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Anger burned through Dav, a deep fiery anger that threatened to explode.
That meant he had to temper his strength.
Once he’d seen a blacksmith make a sword, shaping it with a hammer before firing it to red-hot. Then the man plunged the hot metal into cold water to quench the heat before he beat out the black slag. That’s what Dav had to do. Hammer his anger into a sharp, straight end then fire the emotion even higher before he plunged it into cold logic, transforming his anger into killing steel.
Not yet could he act. Not until dawn.
He tracked the guards who had carried away Raneth’s body.
They had thrown it onto the middens, as if the lad belonged with trash. Stabbed by the one person he’d thought was a friend, Raneth’s betrayal was similar to Dav’s, when his lover turned against him for lust and greed. The lad deserved better than the trash heap.
The rain began, drenching rain that turned the trash into mud. Dav retrieved the body then carried it away, cradled like a child.
He would bury Raneth in Sherwood, where the lad had found a home. He wouldn’t take him to camp yet, but he knew where the body would lay for the next few hours.
His stumbling walk across the footbridge and into the forest became his penance. He would pay a greater penance for not stopping this fool attempt at robbery. He would let Robin set that penance while Friar Tuck set the other, greater one.
This horrid walk through dark and rain, this was his penance for not warning the lads that they walked into a trap. Only a needle-thin chance would have prevented the unfolding of Wilf’s betrayal. As soon as Sgt. Acwell and his men left the tavern, Dav should have hastened to the mayor’s house to stop the lads.
The rain stopped. The trees dripped, thick plopping drops filled with cold water. After a bit, the rain began once more, starting in the distance then pouring toward him, the heavy summer rain that stole away all warmth.
Dav turned onto the trail to the outlaws’ camp. First the trail would wend past a three-trunked tree and a Faerie ring, tall trees ringing a clearing, mossy rocks at their roots. He wouldn’t need to go as far as the Faerie ring. Long before he reached it would be a smaller clearing, new this spring, created when the last wintry storm felled a giant beech that had survived deeper snows.
Dawn crept in as he reached his goal. The rain ebbed to a drizzle. Athwart the trail, the felled tree was not really a barrier. The outlaws found it easy to scramble over although the rangers turned back when they saw it. Now they only occasionally came along the trail. The outlaws just climbed over and continued on their way.
As the day brightened, Dav gathered bracken and pine boughs. On the other side of the beech’s trunk, he created a bed and laid Raneth on it. He crossed the lad’s hands over his heart.
The rain had washed away all traces of the middens and blood and started on the dye that had turned blond hair into red. The corpse looked waxy pale, cold, stiffening. The soaked linen shirt was transparent with only a faint ruddy stain where the knife had pierced through to Raneth’s heart. His darkened woolen hose sagged at the knees and feet. Dav brushed hair back from that stilled face then wiped his dye-stained fingers on his own trews.
He draped the body with his own cloak. Soaked to the skin, he spied a thick-trunked beech and stood behind it to wait. And wait.
The morning warmed. His sodden clothes steamed. A drenching rain came again.
Wilf came during that rain. He trudged along with his head bent, watching his feet, not spying around him. He had a sack slung over one shoulder. With no cloak, he was as drenched as Dav and Raneth. He looked very young and scrawny, a woebegone lad, not one who had betrayed his friend.
He entered the clearing, not pausing until he reached the beech trunk. He fumbled with the sack then tossed it to the other side before scrambling up and over.
When he bent to pick up the sack, he saw the length of the corpse, draped by Dav’s cloak. He stilled then slowly straightened.
No one would miss that the draped form was a body. The rain had plastered the cloak to the body’s shape, the head, the crossed hands over the torso, the legs and feet.
Rain ran down Wilf’s face, dripping like tears. He backed up until he bumped into the tree trunk.
Then he looked around.
Dav stepped from behind his tree.
Wilf spotted him. He started to speak then clapped his mouth shut. He tried to meet Dav’s stare, but his gaze skittered away. He gestured to the corpse. “That’s Raneth, ain’t it?”
“You would be right.”
“A sorry business that. The guards were waiting for us when we left the mayor’s. Everything went slick and easy in the house, then there we were in the midst of `em.”
“An even sorrier business when friend stabbed friend. When did you decide to betray him?”
Wilf grimaced, then his face set in hard lines as he cast off his attempt at a lie. That cold expression, emotionless rather than twisted with grieving regret, that gave Dav the quenching cold that he needed.
But Wilf tried another lie. “I didn’t have a choice. Him or me, that’s what the captain said.”
“When did you talk to the captain? When you reached town? Before you went to the mayor’s?” Hard questions, ground out like rocks.
“I—I—.”
“Couldn’t have talked to him, could you?”
“It was—.”
“I suppose you told that ranger about Raneth’s plan, before you even left Sherwood for town, and he told the captain. Come on, Wilf, tell the truth. You’ve lied for weeks.”
“Aye, I did tell the ranger. I had to!”
“Why did you come into Sherwood? Did the sheriff bribe you?”
“He didn’t have to bribe me. I doubt he even knew the captain sent me. He promised me a promotion, up from recruit to a full guard.”
“Death is a hard price to pay for advancement, Wilf.”
“I didn’t mean to kill Raneth. I just didn’t want him to get away.”
Dav shook his head. “The knife slipped? That’s another lie. I saw, Wilf. I watched. You stabbed him deliberately. Why did you do it? To keep that captain and the guards from learning that you’ve not even met Robin? You’ve barely even seen him.”
Wilf winced, proving Dav’s guess. “I know where the camp is!” he retorted.
“That just makes it easier, lad.”
He looked genuinely puzzled. “Makes what easier?”
. ~ . ~ . ~ .
Sunlight blazed down on their solemn circle around the grave. They’d dug it near the quiet pool. Melly and Ellen placed purple posies of herb-robert on the heaped dirt. Friar Tuck spoke kind words over Raneth.
Dav supposed the crows and kites would reveal where he’d hidden the other body. He didn’t plan to explain to anyone but Robin Hood.
. ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .
