“Instruct your men to unlock the cells,” I ordered.
I expected token resistance or another warning of the rope awaiting me, but Wendenal shrugged toward the bailiff with a large set of iron keys on his belt, and he obediently opened the middle cell door.
“Come, Robard, we have places to be,” I said.
“A moment, Tristan,” he said as he walked through the door of his cell. I thought the bailiff might strike him down, but with another glance in my direction he stayed his hand. Robard snatched away first his sword and then the keys.
As quickly as his weakened state would allow, he unlocked the remaining cell doors.
“All of you are free. Leave now. Return to your homes and families. If you’ve a mind, join me in Sherwood. Thanks to this man, we don’t have much, but we’ll share what we have. If you’re no friend to tyranny, find me there,” he said.
Some of the men, exhausted and abused as they were, remained still, too afraid to move. But eventually they filed out of their cells. Some of them limping and moving gingerly, a few helping the sick and infirm. Slowly at first, then more rapidly they filed past me and down the hallway to the constabulary.
Robard prodded the bailiff into the cell with his own sword. Suddenly, the other bailiff made a move. Angel barked in warning and I shouted. Wendenal tried to squirm away, but I grabbed him by the collar of his cape and held him firmly, making sure he could feel my sword at his back. As the bailiff advanced, Robard threw open the cell door, catching the man square in the face. He tumbled to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Groaning with the effort, Robard dragged the unconscious man into the center cell and locked him in.
“All right, Shire Reeve,” he said. “In you go.”
“You are insane. I will see you both hang for this,” Wendenal sputtered.
I pushed him forward roughly and he stumbled into the last remaining empty cell. Robard turned the key in the lock and smiled, though it appeared to cause him pain. He shuffled across the room and stuffed the keys in his belt, then snatched up his bow and wallet from where they had been stacked in the corner.
“I will find you,” Wendenal said through the bars, his voice full of rage. “My men and I will hunt you down and you will both hang.”
Robard walked back to the cell, staring at Wendenal through the bars.
“My name is Robard Hode, son of Robard Hode the second, and I consider you his murderer. I’m returning to my land in Sherwood Forest, and if you intend to hang me, find me there if you can, or dare. Enjoy your stay in your own jail, Shire Reeve.” Robard limped over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. His face was bruised and scratched, and it was difficult for him to move, though he tried not to show it.
“I knew you’d come for me,” he said.
“You’d do the same. In fact, you already have.”
“Aye. So what do you suggest we do next?” he asked.
“Run,” I said.
“That’s the best plan I think you’ve ever had,” he said.
So, with Angel barking and leading us down the hallway, and as quickly as Robard’s wounds would allow, we ran.
We had not reached the front room before the shouts of Wendenal and his bailiffs rang out. We burst through the door into the street and squinted at the light. Maryam raced to Robard’s side and pulled him into a fierce embrace. There was joy on her face mixed with the rage she felt at seeing him so beaten. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of sending Maryam into the jail with her daggers and letting her settle with the Shire Reeve.
Tuck and John joined our little group, and across the street I saw Will and his men stand ready, drawing arrows. Tuck quickly examined Robard’s arms and hands and shook his head to me while making a motion with his hands as if he were snapping a twig in two.
“Tuck says you have nothing broken,” I said.
“Really? Have him check again if you don’t mind, for I certainly feel as if I do.” Robard smiled grimly. This only caused Maryam to hug him harder and this time he squawked in pain. “Easy, Maryam. You win this round,” he joked.
Allan approached quickly with our horses.
“Little John, I expect a few men will be shortly coming out the door there. Would you stand ready?” I asked.
As we helped Robard into the saddle, a window above the jail crashed open and a crossbow poked through. “Ho!” Will shouted in alarm. He and three of his men stepped forward from their hiding places and sent a hail of arrows at the window, driving the man there back in retreat before he could get a shot off.
The door to the jail crashed open and two bailiffs rushed out. “Halt in the na-” one of them tried to say, but Little John’s staff took the man square in the gut and drove him to the ground. The man behind him had his sword at the ready, but before he could move, Little John snapped the end of his staff into his jaw and he fell to the muddy street unconscious. The downed man tried to stand, but John drove a very large fist into his jaw, and he collapsed and moved no more. Very quickly Little John produced a small length of rope from his tunic and wrapped one end securely through the large wooden handle on the door. He tied the other end tightly to a nearby hitching post, which effectively made the door impossible to open from the inside.
Curious onlookers gathered in the street outside the jail, and when they saw Little John and Will Scarlet besting the Shire Reeve’s men, many of them cheered. The noise brought more villagers to investigate the commotion. Before he mounted his horse, Allan Aidale climbed up on top of a nearby barrel and shouted, “Why, it must be the Merry Men we’ve heard tell of! They’ve come to test the Shire Reeve! Only they could stand against him!” And he exhorted the crowd to chant, “Merry Men! Merry Men!”
With the cheers of the townsfolk ringing in our ears we goaded our horses to run and rode hard and fast for Sherwood Forest.
23
Robard,” I asked as we galloped along, “do you think this is a good idea?”
“What?” he said through gritted teeth. I felt his misery. My side still ached from my wound, though Tuck’s salves had made it considerably better. I knew how painful it was to ride a horse in such a condition.
“Riding straight to Sherwood? Why don’t we hide out somewhere else?”
“We could, but where would we go?” he countered. “In Sherwood, we have places to hide, the people are on our side, and we know the terrain far better than he does. It will give us a great advantage. Besides, we can’t leave my mother unprotected.”
I supposed Robard was right, but I couldn’t help but worry. We had managed to make another powerful enemy, and I was sure, once the Shire Reeve put out news of us, that Sir Hugh would hear of our exploits here. He wouldn’t care a whit about Sherwood’s people or terrain or anything else. He would strike at us no matter where we decided to hide.
We rode on in silence. There was nothing to say. We needed to put space between ourselves and Nottingham. Then we needed rest and food. And a plan.
The woods deepened as we rode on through the remaining daylight. Though it was winter, the trees grew thicker and the stark beauty of the landscape revealed itself. This forest must be glorious in spring and summer, I thought as we rode along.
Toward twilight, we steered off the main trail and cut into the woods before pulling up at a spring to water the horses. Robard nearly tumbled from the saddle, then walked stiff legged back and forth, trying to work the soreness out of his bones. While we waited, Will and his men made a thorough check of the horses, inspecting their hooves and forelegs.
“They’re nearly ready to give out, Rob,” Will said to Robard.
“I know. Not much farther, though,” Robard replied.
I watched in fascination as Allan shinnied up a nearby tree. He kept climbing high into the branches.
“What is he doing?” I asked.
“Watch,” Robard said.
