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Yes, definitely going on a tangent.
“Because the Merry Men,” I continued, changing tracks, “will give you the one thing you’re missing. Respect.”
Owen scoffed. His head reeled in disgust. “Respect? You think your band of thieves can give us respect?”
A blur in my peripheral made my heart lurch and I spun—
In time for Benoit to crack the wooden haft of his spear against the side of my head.
Pain lanced through my skull, white lights shooting behind my eyes.
I crumpled to the ground.
“Robin!” Tuck and Alan yelled in unison.
Staring up from my back, momentarily blinded, utterly confused at the abrupt turn, I heard the voice before I could see it.
“Respect that, you fucking whore,” Benoit growled over me. “You think bottom-feeders can give us anything? You’re the most disrespected, indigent bastards in all of—”
Benoit’s voice ended on a gurgle.
Warm liquid splashed over my face and body. I blinked until I could see straight, and noticed Will’s sword sticking out the other side of Benoit’s neck, spraying blood.
The mustachioed man dropped his spear, jaw dropping and lips moving but only blood pouring out.
“Fuck!” Owen yelled, raising his sword.
Tuck leapt forward and punched the mercenary’s sword out of the air before Owen could strike. The friar’s iron knuckle-band, either Atonement or Discipline, filled the air with sparks.
“No!” I cried out.
Will crouched, spun with his free blade—leaving the other one in Benoit’s neck—and dragged it across the joints in Owen’s armor.
His expert precision eviscerated the soldier, opening his belly. Owen stared down as his intestines spilled out in a heap. He cursed loudly, dropping his blade to try and gather them up.
Will Scarlet was already moving on.
The guards whipped into action around the carriages, moving to meet Will head-on—
Only for arrows from the trees to come whistling in, striking two of them dead before they’d even moved five feet. For every one arrow that hit, another six missed, but it only took one to incapacitate a man.
I stared in abject horror as my plan went to shit before my eyes. Dust kicked into the air and I coughed. My head thumped in agony. Horses screeched and whined.
The Merry Men needed new recruits—soldiers to swell our ranks, to make us a feared group in Nottinghamshire so comments about our status, like Benoit’s, wouldn’t ring true.
More than that, we needed sentries with close ties to Nottingham so we might be able to learn about Little John’s whereabouts. We needed inside men, and these were supposed to be them.
Then Benoit had attacked me.
Now Hell had cracked open. I could hear the telltale sounds of steel on steel, the clattering of weapons and shields, the screaming of men dying all around me.
I couldn’t see it through the dust and chaos, on my back, but I didn’t need to. I stared up at the circling stars overhead and screwed my eyes shut as I tried to block it all out.
The gurgling of spilled blood was the worst. I could close my eyes, but I couldn’t close my ears.
Then I heard horses shuffling, wheels creaking.
A screech came from inside the lead carriage directly in front of me. It started moving, with Baron Mansfield on the bench, leading the beasts directly through us.
