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Monday, Dav rose early and collected the tincture for Arthur’s ailing mother, then he headed for town.
He stopped to visit Brother Jerome, whose hermitage was near Tuck’s quiet forest pool. He shared the bread and ham that old Alcide had wrapped for him, and the hermit shared his pottage of mushrooms and wild greens.
He didn’t see anyone else until he crossed the old bridge on the road for Nottingham, where the beaten forest tracked joined the wider King’s Road. Behind him came a ranger, unstrung bow in hand. The man hailed Dav as he trotted across the weathered and splitting planks.
“Ho there, how goes it?”
Dav stopped and waited. Rangers worked at the king’s behest, but they answered directly to the sheriff. He didn’t want to attract any attention. He greeted the man with a hearty grin, false to his eyeteeth. “Heading back to town? How long you been out?”
“A fortnight.” He clapped a hand on the scrip dangling at his side. “Out of food.”
“A fortnight?” Dav would never be an actor, but he managed to sound incredulous. “I didn’t think rangers stayed out that long.”
“We were running some old trails deep in the forest.”
“Deep in the forest? Where the faeries are?”
“You don’t believe in that old tale?”
He’d seen faeries in camp. He counted the hunter Fenric as friend. He hoped the rangers did stumble into some old doorway to Underhill. “Just you out here?”
“Couple of mates as well. They came in yesterday. I caught a sign that—.” He stopped abruptly.
“A sign?” He clapped a hand over his heart and faked a strong shudder. “A sign that leads to Robin Hood and his Merry Men? Don’t they live with the faeries?”
“Mock all you want. You’ll mock me until Robin Hood himself attacks you and steals everything you’ve got, even your shoes.”
“I thought that was just a tale by merchants who want to keep the sheriff off their backs. That would be a neat tale, wouldn’t it? A forest robber that stole all their coins, so they don’t have to pay a toll or any kind of tithe for market.”
“Robin Hood is real enough, he and his men. I’d like to find him. That would get me a fat purse of coins from the sheriff.”
“Where was this sign? So I can avoid that part of the forest,” he hastened to add.
“Wasn’t that kind of sign,” and he couldn’t be drawn to explain more.
The ranger’s pace flagged when they saw the town walls. He stopped to converse with the guards, and Dav had to stop when a guard stepped in front of him.
“What’s that?” He pointed at the dark bottle Dav carried. “That beer? You’re the one that works for the brewer?”
“I am.” He shook the bottle. “It’s not beer. A healing tincture, for a friend.”
“That from the new healer?”
“New healer?” He hadn’t heard anything about a replacement after Melly had fled Nottingham. Another healer was bound to take her place. She’d be hard pressed to improve on Melly’s work, though, with Faerie magic in everything she touched.
The guard waved him on.
The chatty ranger caught up in a few steps, but he looked a little disgruntled when Dav turned off the main street to enter the brewer’s side yard. “You’re headed there?” he asked, clearly confused.
“I work here. Rolling barrels around for Master Brewer.”
The ranger hesitated, shifting from one foot to the next.
“You need something? Want a beer? Master Brewer will have a tapped keg.”
“Nay, nay. Be seeing you. Tinker’s Wife Tavern, right?” he named Dav’s usual haunt for a beer and a bit of supper.
“That’s right. Be there after twilight. I’ll give you a game of Mummers.”
Wilf and Raneth came at sunset, before the bells rang for Evensong. Dav had worried they would come at sunset, when Master Brewer liked to give orders for the next day. They strolled in, bold as brass, although Raneth’s eyes darted around and his shoulders kept hunching. Dav ushered them to the stable, far back of the side yard, with the mules and the wagon. “You’ll hear the bells for Compline. I wouldn’t stir until then.”
Wilf groaned. “We have to be quiet? Nobody will notice us. The guards didn’t even look at Raneth. Not even a side eye, not once.”
Raneth nodded but said nothing, too busy unwrapping his arm to comment.
“Don’t use up the luck,” Dav warned. “You’ll need it tonight. You can stay till morning, but you’ll need to be gone before Master Brewer is stirring around.”
Wilf kicked hay into a clump then plopped down.
Dav lingered long enough to add, “Stay as long as you need. I’ll cover for you.”
His last task was sweaty work, rolling filled barrels down a ramp into the cellar. Years of aging had filled the vast cellar with the heady smell of yeast and wort, and his mouth watered in anticipation.
He emerged to full dark. Master Brewer gave him leave for the next day. Dav headed for the stable, listening as the master jangled his keys to lock the cellar door then crossed the side yard, a torch lighting his way to the house.
The youths were gone.
Dav idly patted a mule’s nose before trudging out. A swift wash in the rain barrel, then he left by the back gate, leaving it on the latch.
At the Tinker’s Wife Tavern, he leaned on the bar and argued the merits of mushrooms in stew with Gil Whitehand.
“Depends on if it’s chicken or pig,” he said just as someone planted a thick elbow beside him.
The man cleared his throat.
Dav straightened to his full height, ready to intimidate, then saw the man’s equipment, recognizing him as a guard. Then he realized the man was Sergeant Acwell. “Ho, you surprised me. You want a game of mummers?”
“Not tonight.” Sgt. Acwell’s gaze drifted around the room. “Got doings on.”
A sinking feeling hit Dav’s gut. “Have you now?”
“Just came in to round up a couple of guards.”
“Rounding up guards that you let have time off? Oh ho, the grousing will never end, Acwell. I hope these doings are worth the trouble.”
“Well worth it.”
“How can you know? Or is this one of the sheriff’s half-baked plans? Like the golden arrow on May Day.”
Bent over a tap, Gil looked up to grin. That golden arrow was supposed to trap Robin Hood. The gold was mere paint; the archery competition was rigged. Instead of the sheriff snaring a pesky outlaw, a glamoured Faerie won the prize. Since May Day, the outlaws had enjoyed many a laugh and a toast at the sheriff’s expense.
“Oh ho, another golden arrow?” Dav dared to crow. Yet worry pricked as he imagined Wilf and Raneth creeping along the alley to the mayor’s back fence, guards lurking in every doorway to seize them. “No, wait, we can’t have an archery competition at night. Or can you?”
“Leave off,” Acwell grunted, no anger in his pale eyes. “It ain’t that.”
“But it needs guards who are off duty.”
Acwell lifted his chin to meet Dav’s wary eyes. “Didn’t think you’d be that interested.”
Gil planted a pint of beer in front of the sergeant, saving Dav from a response. “For your thirsty work.”
He drained the beer then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Needed that. We’ve been rushing around since the noon.”
Dav’s gut sank lower. Noon. He and the ranger had entered Nottingham not long before the bell tolled the noon hour. The ranger had headed for the barracks in the castle. He’d dodged Dav’s question about the sign in the forest that had delayed his return. Had he somehow discovered the plan to rob the mayor?
How? Only Dav and the lads had known about the robbery.
Unless—.
He shook his head and drank from his pint. The beer tasted foul, and he knew—he knew that trouble was coming.
How much did the guards know? That’s what he needed to find out.
“I came in at noon. Went to visit an herbalist for a tincture.”
Acwell grinned. “Got a touch of something?”
He ignored the question. “Walked in with a ranger who said he’d been deep in the forest, looking for signs of Robin Hood. Does the sheriff think Robin Hood’s fool enough to dance into Nottingham on a whim?”
From behind the sergeant, Gil shot him a warning look. Since May Day, Robin had sneaked in and out of town a baker’s dozen of times, until he’d gone on this trip to Barnsdale.
Acwell snorted. “That robber won’t set foot in town. Nay, this is something else the ranger got wind of.” He flicked the pint, shifting it a couple of inches on the bar. “Thanks, Gil. That helped. Be seeing you, Dav. Maybe tomorrow for a game of Mummers? I’ll tell you everything then.”
“Do that.”
“Until tomorrow then.” He pushed away from the bar and turned to collect his guards.
Dav frowned into his pint.
“You know what he’s on about?” Gil asked, the words almost too low to hear in the room’s chatter.
“I hope not.”
