SHERWOOD FOREST
MARION KNEW SOMETHING WAS wrong the moment they returned to camp. The sounds were off, there was anticipation in the air like a lightning storm. At first she thought it her imagination—a paranoia that something would undoubtedly ruin the tremendous news she’d come to share. But Sir Amon clearly sensed it, too. His blade was already drawn, and he motioned for her to stay back.
Horrors filled her head, of course, that their day had finally come. It was only a matter of time before the Nottingham Guard crashed through their camp, ending with blood their winter chase—which was specifically why her news was so critical. To think that the rug would be pulled out beneath her now, when she was finally so close to saving them all, was more than she could bear.
But as the camp drew closer, Marion’s alarm faded. The only terror evident in her companions’ faces was that of surviving another day. They were breaking down their battered tents and tying meager bundles of food into their packs. Campfires were doused. Down by the stream, deerskins were being filled with water.
They were on the run again.
Yesterday, it might have broken Marion’s heart. The pain of seeing her people suffer—despite her efforts to help them—had no name. Their nomadic status had degraded with each week, and the victories they’d collected at the top of winter did nothing to fill their bellies now. Most of this group had no quarrel with Nottingham, but suffered the Sheriff’s wrath, nonetheless. Yesterday, moving camps would have meant they were one rung closer to the bottom of a ladder overhanging an abyss, the Nottingham Guard stomping down on their knuckles.
But today, it meant they’d be ready to travel as soon as possible, to the new home she’d found for them.
“Help me gather them,” she commanded Amon, who nodded and went to it.
She craned her head to search for Will Scarlet, but he was already upon her. His mourning beard had overtaken his entire face, his eyes barely visible like two baby birds in a nest. He rushed through an attempt to bow to her. “Sorry to interrupt your morning stroll, m’lady,” he said, all sarcasm.
Marion had never been a mother, but she suddenly had the urge to smack some sense into her child. “I see you’re in a mature mood this morning.”
“I see you’re in a bitch mood this year.”
She wasn’t going to let him bitter this. She turned, searching for anyone less useless. “Tuck! What happened? Why are we moving?”
The friar’s face flustered red as he explained, in short and accurate sentences, how the Nottingham Guard had spotted Arthur and David on the Sherwood Road. Marion considered it gravely, but it was only more reason to hasten. “We’d best be on our way then.”
“You think so?” Will scolded her. “What did you think we’re fucking doing?”
Marion balled her dress into her fists, but would not let him rile her. If this had been any other man, Marion might suspect him drunk. But Will Scarlet had been entirely sober since Elena’s death—that which tore at his soul came from within. He’d been particularly combative with her for weeks, off and on, ever since they’d realized they were no longer on the winning side. He’d thought that simply claiming the name of Robin Hood would compel the world to bow to him, and had grown sour that life was more realistic than that. He was good at gravelly insults and a brooding lurk—but when it came to survival, their group was still very much Marion’s Men.
Will smirked, for reasons only he could know. “Pack up, Marion,” he ordered. “Unless you’d rather stay. Give my best to the Nottingham Guard. They’ll be here soon.”
A heavy moment passed between them. It was so difficult to forgive his grief, and to remind herself that everyone had their own method of coping with the unimaginable. Some people like Will let it out to attack everyone, while others …
… others preferred to stuff it into a perfectly round ball and swallow it, where it would probably kill her later.
He started up the hill, making a show of leaving. Their squabble had thankfully already attracted the majority of the camp, mostly packed and awaiting direction. Marion’s eyes lingered on a solitary figure watching from halfway up the climb, who showed no interest in coming any closer.
Good, Marion thought. First decision Arable had ever made that didn’t get someone killed.
She packed it into a perfect ball and swallowed it.
“I know that nobody wanted to travel today,” she announced, even as a few people started up the hill to follow Will, “but the good news is that we have an actual destination. Someplace we can stay. No more running.”
John Little, who had finally joined them, lit up. “Well that’s ever good to hear! What do you have in mind?”
She didn’t even pause. “We leave the Sherwood. We leave Nottinghamshire.”
An unease rippled outward, infectious as a rumor. She’d expected that. They’d long decided against fleeing the county borders. Outside of the Sherwood, their group would be easy to notice, and they would be at every disadvantage. But those risks only lasted so long as they were impermanent.
“Where?” Tuck asked. “You said your home was too dangerous…”
“Not my father’s estate, no,” she answered before he could finish the thought. Her grandfather’s lands were too far, and carried too many complications. “That will never be an option. But I’ve been communicating with Lord Robert, Earl of Huntingdon, and he’s consented to take us in.”
It had been no easy feat, and the news should have been greeted with celebration. But she knew the journey would sound daunting. Huntingdon was, as far as most of this group knew, on the other side of the earth.
“Huntingdon?” Will coughed.
“He seems downright eager to have us,” she laughed. “Lord Robert has been one of your primary supporters, though most of you would never know it. He was the one who purchased most of the jewelry we took in the autumn. He loved knowing it came from his political rivals.”
“Huntingdonshire is two counties away,” Arthur said, somewhat delicately. “There’s no way a group this size can travel that distance in secrecy.”
“And the days are still short,” warned David.
“You don’t have to do it in secret,” Marion answered, hoping to encourage them. Her group would need all the manpower possible to make the journey. “The Earl Robert will welcome you openly.”
“Openly?” Tuck asked. “What is he offering? This Earl Robert?”
Marion wished there was a way to make this more exciting, but there was very little thrill in what lay ahead. “I won’t lie, it won’t be an easy life. You’ll work. Huntingdon is struggling to pay its share of the ransom as well, make no doubt. But you would have safety as his vassals. Work his land, or his estate, each according to their ability. You would be … people again. Instead of outlaws.”
Will had not moved. “You want us to give up on everything.”
She didn’t look at him. “I want you to consider your options. Your real options. This is a chance to live a peaceful life again. Not just what you had at Locksley, but before that. Lord Robert is being very generous with his offer. It is, without doubt, the best opportunity you will ever have.”
“And all we have to do,” Will’s voice rose, “is pretend none of this ever happened.”
“All you have to do,” Marion matched him, “is walk away before anyone else is hurt.”
“Walk away and let them get away with it.”
Marion’s temper flared before she could grapple it down. “Yes, Will. Actually, yes. They’re going to ‘get away with it.’ Everything they’ve done, they’ve already gotten away with it. There is no scenario in which we ‘win.’ They have the power, and it doesn’t matter if you think that’s unfair. That’s how the world works. Grow up.”
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t. “Well then. You just said it. You don’t think we can win.”
It was hardly an opinion, and she was sick of pretending otherwise. “Look around. Where are your victories, Will? I wanted you to succeed, God, more than anyone! But I see burnt trees. I see starving people. How can you not see that?”
She didn’t ask the rest of the question. How could he not see that it was his fault?
“Of course I see that. But I see the rest, too.” He thrust a finger at the nearest tree trunk. “I see the trees that are still standing, that would have been burnt if not for us. I see the people still living, who would have died if we hadn’t fought back. You’re only seeing failures because they’re all you’re looking for, Marion.”
That ball, she could not swallow.
Will cooed. “You don’t understand. How could you? You come and stay in the woods with us for a week or so and then go home—or to Huntingdon, apparently! This is our life, that you choose to visit on holiday. You think of us as your little playthings, Marion’s Men, for you to move around where you want. Fuck that. Keeping us on a short leash, keeping us from doing anything that will actually make a difference.”
He started to circle her, playing to the crowd.
“God’s teeth, you had us roaming village to village giving out coin rather than putting that money to real use. I wonder if we might be doing a bit better now if you hadn’t made us throw it all away?”
She’d long run out of patience in correcting this particular argument. “Put it to real use?” she echoed his phrasing. “You never recognized that our charity was a strategy. It was a bribe. You’re only as safe as the first villager willing to sell you out. When you stopped helping the people, you stopped giving them a reason to help you. And you wonder why you’re hunted everywhere you go now, you wonder why you cannot steal as much as you used to.”
All eyes returned to Will, who tapped his fingers restlessly. “Do you notice how she always uses the word you instead of we?”
“Your insults don’t feed people!” she snapped at him. “You want to attack me, fine. But don’t pretend that helps anyone. What’s over that hill, then?” She pointed up and out of the willowbank, where he’d been headed. “Where were you planning to take them?”
Will shook his head. “A. Way. From. Here.”
“Down the river a bit?” She frowned, and found a few sympathetic faces. “We’ll find another beautiful stretch of mud until we get discovered there as well?”
At that, Will slung the pack off his shoulder and descended back toward her in contempt. “If you want to leave so much, then go home, Marion! We don’t need you anymore. We aren’t taking in any jewelry or necklaces anymore, so we don’t need you and we don’t need Huntingdon. The next time we start shopping for trinkets again, we’ll find you.” He snorted, eyeing her up and down. “Or are you worried we’d think poorly of you? If I had a castle and a featherbed waiting for me, you can bet I would’ve left a while ago.”
Marion was undeterred. “Nobody doubts your willingness to be rid of us.”
“Fuck you.” He quivered. “Oh, fuck you so much.”
“Stop it!” Tuck threw his hands up between them, as if there were a risk of violence. As if Will were a danger to anyone but himself. The idea had never even crossed Marion’s mind.
Will’s gaze was stuck on her, staring her down with alternating eyes. Marion ate up his spite. “My question stands, what better option do you have? I’m not being a bitch, Will. I’m asking you an honest question. I want to know what your plan is.” She let a few moments pass. “Do you even have one?”
Will snorted again. “I do.”
“Then why don’t you try answering me when I ask you a question,” Marion scolded, “instead of pissing all over the ground just to prove you’ve got a dick?”
Arthur a Bland let out a low whistle. “Holy mother of fuck—”
“Shut it, Arthur,” Marion said.
“Never mind, then.”
“You think I like roaming around the forest scavenging like this?” Will asked, his eyes moving quickly. “Barely surviving? Hiding from everyone just in case they might mean us harm? It’s pathetic. We’ve got an awful lot of mouths to feed and there aren’t many of us bringing in the food. But I’m still here, so don’t you fucking tell me you think I’m trying to be rid of everyone.”
“Fine,” Marion consented. He was right. “I’m sorry for that.”
“We need more men, is what we need.” Will returned to a higher place on the hill, and it made him appear deceptively taller. “If the Nottingham Guard is building outposts on the Sherwood Road, we can’t stay on the defensive. If they control the forest, we’re done. But we know we can stop them in small groups, you all know I can deliver on that promise. So we can’t let them build. We have to fight back.”
“Fight back,” Marion echoed. “To what end, Will? You’ve already tried violence, why don’t you remind me how successful that was?”
That, apparently, struck a nerve. “We didn’t draw first blood,” he growled.
A perfect ball.
Swallow.
Will just laughed at her. “I don’t know what kind of world you think this is, but you’re fucking clueless.” He paced away, then back again, speaking with his hands. “This is no children’s story where the plucky underdog wins because he’s just so plucky. This is reality, and we’re dying. I thought we’d have more time, to recruit some men from the villages, train them. But we don’t. We need men now, or we die.”
“And so this plan of yours…?”
“I go to Nottingham.”
By the crowd’s reaction, Marion was not the only one shocked by this. Nottingham was literally the last place any sane person would go.
“I have a lot of friends back there,” Will continued. “Friends who hate the Guard as much as we do.”
“Street rats,” Marion translated.
“Talented men,” he shot back. “Real thieves, who have the skills we need. Right now we barely have enough men to keep ourselves fed. But if I bring back even a dozen of my old crew, then we can stop these outposts before they’re built, and we turn the Nottingham Guard back cold.”
“Gang members,” Marion scoffed. “Loyal to nobody.”
“You think they’ll follow you?” Arthur asked.
“I know they will. When I led my boys out of Ten Bell Alley into Red Lion Square, we became the strongest gang in Nottingham. They’re still there. They’ll know about Robin Hood—and right now that’s me. They’re sure to follow the man who killed the last two Sheriffs. I get my boys again, we get a useful crew, we get back to making a difference.”
He smiled, and for a moment it reminded Marion of the charismatic man he’d been a year ago. Confident. Cocky, perhaps, but only because he could back it up. It was good to see that drive in him. She honestly wished they could just slip back into their old ways. But even his boldest words didn’t make his idea any less of a disaster.
“And what about everyone else?” Marion asked, searching the crowd. Women and children looked back at her—the very people Will had just labeled useless. “These families, they’re supposed to … what? Wait here until you come back? If you come back? With no protection in the meanwhile?”
“I’ll only need a few days.”
“What if we have to run? How would you find us?”
“We’ll work out the details. God’s tits, I know it’s not perfect, but we need the help. I can get the men, I can bring twenty of them back here, ready to fight!” Will humphed. “Let’s let everyone choose. Those who want to run away and beg for handouts from some rich lord are welcome to do so. Welcome to go back to living like slaves, and wait until this all happens again. But those who have any amount of self-respect can follow me.”
“And by follow me,” she clarified for him, “he means stay here. And hope he comes back.”
“I’ll be back,” he said, with a perfect calm, “before you even get to Huntingdon.”
She hated him in that moment. For offering them easy answers he couldn’t back up. The group murmured with indecision. It was beyond reason that any of them even hesitated. She spat under her breath at Will, “Why do you have to be so stubborn about everything?”
“I’m not being stubborn, goddammit!” he said at full voice, halting the murmur. “I’m being faithful! Faithful to the people who died, that you clearly don’t give the first shit about. I’m the only one trying to make sure they didn’t die for nothing!”
Marion tried to hide her fury. She started one sentence, thought better of it, started, and stopped again. She tried to roll it up, but the ball wouldn’t form, it resisted until she couldn’t hold it back. “I didn’t realize you had a monopoly on grief.”
Stillness. Even the wind silenced itself, leaving nothing but the tall tree-spears around them and tiny Will Scarlet suddenly on the edge of madness. It was Will’s voice, but his lips didn’t move. “Don’t go there.”
She had to bite her lip to keep from breaking. “You’re not the only person who lost someone they loved,” she whispered.
“I didn’t lose anyone!” Will yelled back. “Mine were taken from me. Ripped out of my hands, right out of my fucking hands! At least Robin died doing something he believed in, he died the way we all ought to die. He died fighting for you and you’re just walking away from him.”
She slapped him. Hard.
For a moment Will reeled, and then he slapped her back. Just as hard. Not harder.
It stung, and her ear rang—she must have been knocked backward because she was in Sir Amon’s arms. Once she was on her feet again, Amon positioned himself between them, his sword whispered out of its scabbard. Will kept his eyes on Marion, utterly ignoring the steel point now trained on him.
“You have no idea how lucky you are.” Will’s voice was terrible, and his face even worse. Tears streaked down both cheeks, his skin was nearly purple, and not from bruising. “Robin died a hero. You have that, at least. What do I have?” He pounded his chest. “Elena died a traitor. You really want to compare scars?”
Marion touched Amon’s arm, who obeyed without question. His sword vanished as though it had only been a thought. “Will.” She reached her hand out, palm up, begging for him to join her. “You have to let her go. You can’t do this for her, you can’t. If you go to Nottingham, it will be suicide.”
In retrospect, she should not have used that final word. It found whatever softness he had left within him and dried it to chalk. “You want to run away, then hurry up.” His eyes looked through her, at nothing. “I’m not coming with you. That would be suicide. Because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”
There were no more words to be said after that. Will picked up his pack and marched himself up the ridge, halfway to forever. Something tugged downward inside Marion, grounding her where she stood, feeling even more helpless than ever. She had neither the words to unite her people, nor the ability to tear herself in half and go with both groups. The others were now loudly making their own decisions.
Arthur a Bland and David of Doncaster spoke in hushed tones, and Marion approached them. “You know we need you.”
David bit his lip.
“I think Will needs us more,” Arthur answered, and would not meet her eye.
She didn’t want to lose them. “It’s a long road. You two are the best hunters we have.”
“But when you get there, it sounds like you’ll be safe. And fed. And then what?” Arthur swallowed hard. “You’re saving these people … that’s good, it is. But the Guard is still coming, still going to look for us here. We’d be abandoning all the people who’ve helped us in the villages. They’ll suffer for it. They’re waiting for us to come back. I don’t know. Leaving for this earl of yours … it seems … I think it seems selfish.”
That hurt. Selfish was the last thing Marion thought she deserved to be called.
But by the end of it, thank God, it seemed there was no real decision to be made at all. Only Arthur and David stood by Will, volunteering to go with him to Nottingham. They tried to instill a sense of adventure and righteousness into some of the other men, but most had never developed the temperament for a criminal life.
“Come on then, Stutely,” David coddled the bloated nomad whose mouth was as large as his belly, but Marion could tell that even he did not want to go. “You’ll finally get a chance to show us how brave you say you are.”
Will Stutely hung his head and followed Scarlet like a dog.
Charley Dancer struggled greatly with his choice, but Arthur took the burden away from him. “You’ll be no good to us, Charley. That leg of yours will slow us down. It’s not fair, I know, but that’s the way of things.”
David slapped John Little’s back, trying to smooth over the tension. “Come off it.” He smiled. “Let’s not make a big deal out of this. We’re splitting up, is all.”
“It’s good strategy, really,” Arthur seconded. “It will make it harder for them to find us.”
“Splitting up?” Marion was hardly able to hide the vile taste of the day. Losing four strong men would be devastating for what lay ahead. “Why don’t you try counting, Arthur? There are three of you following Will, and a hundred of us that are not. This is not splitting up. This is you abandoning us. I don’t care how you want to sell it to yourself.”
David looked genuinely hurt. “We’re not abandoning you, Marion. We’re going to get more men from Nottingham, and we’re going to rebuild. We’ll come back, and anyone here can come back, too. We’ll keep going like before.”
The murmur from the crowd said they did not believe him.
“This isn’t the end,” Arthur insisted.
“It is,” Marion laughed. “Will’s a river rat. He’s going home. And anybody who follows him is going to drown.” She slung a hemp sack over her shoulders and nodded to John Little, steady and somber. “Let’s go, everyone. We have a long way to go, and the work just got harder.”