AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Iexplained the Oak Boys and my adventure with Little John—leaving out certain bits—and Friar Tuck explained what he meant by “losing” Emma. He hadn’t simply misplaced her or turned around and found her missing.
No, he had been attacked from behind, knocked unconscious, and left to bleed out on the street like a dog.
If it hadn’t been for Rosco chancing upon him an hour later, combing the roads and alleys with Tick while looking for their missing friend Jimmy, we may have lost Tuck. The friar owed a debt of gratitude to the guttersnipe who had once been his charge at the orphanage. Rosco and Tick had returned to our camp, too, after being unable to find Jimmy. Or Emma.
They were the final two lads to return that evening, deep into the night after a futile search. Returning empty-handed. Emma going missing seemed to strike Rosco worse than anyone. I knew he was infatuated with my former handmaid, so it made sense.
Around the campfire that night, Much and Griff consoled and befriended Rosco and Tick. I considered them the next generation of Merry Men, and it was good to see the younger lads commiserating and finding some camaraderie with each other.
Much said, “You’re like me, then, Rosco. Lost the girl I loved, too.”
“I don’t love her, louse!” Rosco snapped.
Much, sounding much wiser than his age, patted Rosco’s knee and nodded gravely. “I know, lanky bug. I know. I thought the same thing about Maria, too. Now that she’s gone? I recognize the truth.”
I stared at their fire pit from the edge of Tuck’s tent. Hours had passed since we’d arrived, and Little John was busy regaling the Merry Men at a different fire with tales of his capture, however begrudgingly. I was sure he was leaving out certain bits, too.
Alan and Will stuck by my side, watching the four small huddles around the different fire pits: John and the soldiers, Much and Rosco’s growing gang, the band of rambunctious orphans, and close to them were Gracie, Ada, and some of the other girls from the almshouse.
A frown etched itself onto my face as I watched from a distance. Everyone was chatting. Spirits were high since Little John’s return, though my involvement was still questioned by the older soldiers and men. Not all of them saw my actions at the execution as noble, ordering them to free the strangers who were going to be hanged, only to disappear myself. Passing the burden of liberation onto them, as it were.
I wished they understood my intentions. They had Little John back, so could they be that angry with me?
“Look what you’ve done, love,” Alan-a-Dale murmured near my ear. He splayed a hand in front of him. “You’ve built the community you wanted.”
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” I answered glumly.
Why was my spirit so sour? Because Tuck was injured? Because Emma was missing? Because things weren’t perfect? I didn’t have an answer to that question. I just felt . . . off.
Will Scarlet—ever the blunt one of the group—scoffed on the other side of me. “It’s exactly what you had in mind. Guttersnipes, ragamuffins, orphans, servants, and bandits. If this isn’t what you hoped for, or expected, then what is?”
He made a fair point. My head bobbed from left to right. “I suppose I’m not sure.”
We had an opportunity to do something here. Maybe it was the juxtaposition of Robert’s orderly Oak Boys with our haphazard Merry Men that jarred me. I had only just been with the Oak Boys earlier this morning, and the thought of Robert and Uncle Gregory out there in the forest, without me, didn’t sit well.
I was welcome to bring the Merry Men to them, but what good would that do right now, other than bringing attention to their ranks? No, it was better to let the Oak Boys sit in the shadows for a while, until we figured out our next plan.
Or maybe the opportunity for us to do something was smaller than that. Smaller than rebellion and revolution and toppling princes and kings.
I should have been content with what I had, staring out at this ragtag band of unexpected comrades. People from various backgrounds, breaking bread, conversing about romance and stories. Becoming friendly and familiar with one another. Forming bonds that would last a lifetime.
Was this, before me, not the stuff of life?
Alan slapped my ass lightly, earning a surprised yip from me, and then he winked. “I’ll be back.”
He returned with his lute, then visited each fire pit to play tunes for the masses, enrapturing the band with his jaunty voice and pleasant melodies.
Despite the violence of the execution, we had only lost three men, according to Will’s count. We should have been content with that.
That was still three Merry Men I hadn’t been able to save. Three men we’d need to bury without proper respect, because their bodies remained lying in the streets of Nottingham, gathering flies and maggots, flesh picked by vermin.
Compared to the Oak Boys’ six losses, however, ours weren’t so bad.
Deep down, I knew why I wasn’t fully content: I was happy all four of my lovers had returned to me, yet I knew this wasn’t the end. It was a calm wind that precipitated a great storm. We had so much to do. I wanted to be happy for the Merry Men, and just let them relax for once in their lives.
But I knew there was no rest for the wicked bandits of this society. We were a scourge on the land, the peasantry, and the nobility. The lies told about us were becoming the stuff of legend, so much so that I was starting to believe the lies. Our actions at the execution certainly didn’t help our case as being fighters of freedom.
With all the untold destruction brought to the city and its people, I had no doubt Sheriff George was raising awareness and spreading more hate against us, even now.
