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Will’s eyes widened. “I have to see that.”
“No, you don’t,” I said, tugging Will’s collar in my direction, shoving him toward a horse. “There’s no time to dally, lad.” He was showing his age.
Tuck chuckled. “The nuns live akin to Cistercians. We should get along. Perhaps they know something of Maid Marian’s whereabouts, or even Robin.”
“Doubtful, but worth a peek,” I said. “We’ll reconvene by midday at our lookout point next to Newton on Trent. You all know the spot?”
The men nodded curtly. Will mumbled to himself, looping his leg over the steed. I mounted the second.
Frowning, I looked to Alan. “We don’t have the horses, mate. Join Tuck at the priory.”
“Why does he get to?” Will whined.
I rolled my eyes. “Because if I keep you close, I can keep an eye on you.”
Will grumbled again but gave no more argument.
With my command in place, we took our spots. The three younger lads joined the procession going to Broadholme, while Will and I galloped toward Skellingthorpe.
What began as a sunny day became covered with thick clouds and a low fog on the valley near the thorps. Many of these locations were mired by moorlands, which made the going tough.
Will and I learned nothing of Robin’s whereabouts in Skellingthorpe, nor Maid Marian’s and our missing horse. Neither woman had come through here.
After thanking our connection and getting two men to join our band, we left for Newton on Trent, where we learned Tuck and Alan had faced a similar outcome.
Convening along the lookout above the River Trent’s wide shores, Tuck crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Little luck at Broadholme,” he said. “Seems I overestimated my capabilities with the nuns there. I think my name is starting to gain somewhat of a reputation as a miser and whore.”
I laughed humorlessly. “We’re wasting time.”
I had no clue where Robin would have gone. I made the decision to circle back to other villages in Sherwood. They would eventually bring us west, which would distance us from Guy of Gisborne’s trackers.
We went from spot to spot, using the rest of the sunlight to do it. The day was a failure in our overall mission, yet we managed to recover nearly ten Merry Men we had positioned inside the villages and hamlets along the roads to build our spy network.
Even as our ranks swelled, I didn’t consider us safe from Guy. He was as tricky as they came. We couldn’t face his militia in the open field. We’d be slaughtered like mice to a feline massacre.
The problem was Sir Guy of Gisborne knew this forest as well as I did. He had lived the majority of his life inside these woods. We were playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and I was anxious to find out who would win the chase.
As the sun began to sink on that first day, I felt defeated. I sat around the campfire with the others, and even though the camp was livelier than it had been in weeks, I couldn’t bring myself out of my cold sweat.
We were located further west from Guy now, so I permitted Alan to play a few tunes over supper, to bolster our morale. It worked, and we woke up early next morning to do it all over again. We went from hideout to hideaway, scouring the land for any signs of our star.
And we came up empty.
It was when we doubled back to the “abandoned well” locale that lush memories sprang on me. Robin sitting on my lap after witnessing me gut Peter Fisher like a fish. The way she smashed her hips into mine, bounced on my cock, and lost her mind to the pleasure.
God, I need that again.
My brow furrowed as I remembered a snippet of conversation before our torrid after-session took place.
I sat straight, gaining the attention of the others. “Shit,” I breathed, biting into a stick of meat. When everyone looked at me, I imagined the wide-eyed expression on my face. By the looks of it, their leader was cracking under the pressure. I stood from the bonfire. “I have an idea, men.”
They gazed up, fire flickering in their orbs.
I stamped the end of my quarterstaff on the ground. “If I’m wrong, we may never see Robin again, because the distance would put us on the western side of the forest, and north. It would put us out of our trajectory.”
“So?” Will said. “We have to make our own luck. You can’t shoulder all the burden, Little John. Tell us.”
“You’re right,” I said with a stern nod, appreciating his opinion. “I have a gut feeling.”
