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My heart jumped to my throat. “This isn’t a third-hand tale you’re relaying, Griff?”
“Nay, ma’am.” He shook his head profusely. “Heard it with my own eyes. Erm, ears. Heard it with my own ears.”
“When?” Will snapped.
“Tomorrow.”
A low string of murmurs broke out among the Merry Men listening nearby. Fuck. Tomorrow is . . . soon.
“You’re certain, son?” Tuck asked.
Another heavy nod. “Certain as I am my mum’s dead.”
I stared at the licking flames of the fire, hoping to get lost in them. For a moment, it worked, and the conversation faded around me.
What will Little John look like? What state will he be in? How can we possibly hope to rescue him, against all odds, with just this ragtag band? We haven’t had enough time to build our community! We’ve gotten a smattering of new recruits here and there, and guards like Carter have been useful, but we can’t stage a revolt with this number.
For some reason, I thought of Wulfric the healer. I’d told him we’d be back in a fortnight to discuss the powder, but other matters were becoming more pressing once we learned about John’s imprisonment. I knew I was only thinking of Wulfric to stuff down my ominous thoughts about John.
There’s also my brother to contend with. Robert still would like to meet with me and . . .
Shit. Robert! He could have been helping us all along!
I cursed under my breath and put a palm to my forehead. We needed more men, yet I didn’t even think to ask my brother. I knew where he was staying—how hard could it have been? John had consumed so much of my mind that I hadn’t even considered Robert as an option.
Now it was too late.
“What is it, love?” Alan whispered next to me.
I shook my head. “Nothing, I—”
“Hoy, did you hear the whelp, lovebirds?” Will snapped at us. “Execution’s taking place in the town square. For all the public to see.”
I felt lost in a haze. For the first time, I was glad Will had taken over leadership duties from me, because I was getting too emotional and trapped in my own thoughts. I wouldn’t be thinking clearly, and I proved it as much when I muttered, “Is that . . . a good thing?”
“Yes and no,” Will said loudly. He started pacing like Tuck loved to do, and raised a finger. “The square means an audience. We can use that to blend in—run our scheme we planned.” Another finger lifted. “The square also means guards. It’ll be like the archery tournament. Everywhere we look will be swarming with them.”
“They were always going to be there,” Alan quipped. “We knew that.”
“Why is he doing it now?” Tuck asked. By his tone, it was more of a rhetorical question. He stood from the fire, voice booming so everyone could hear him. “The Sheriff is planning this now to flush us out. He knows we’re close.”
Will spun and flicked Much the Miller’s Son across the forehead. “Because someone decided to announce the Merry Men’s presence in Nottingham.”
Much scowled and rubbed his head. “Mean bug. I thought it would get us recruits, I did.”
“Yet all it did was put eyes on us when we were hidden before.”
“Don’t blame the boy, Scarlet,” Tuck said with a sigh. “George already knows where we are. Do you forget our camp was attacked?”
“We can’t guarantee that attack was the Sheriff.” Will didn’t sound convinced at his own argument.
“Regardless, we can’t stay hidden forever, lad.”
I looked past the fire and noticed Emma shrinking in the distance, trying to make herself small. The trio of Emma, Gracie, and Ada had kept a close watch on the orphans, and had managed to keep all of the children alive and in good health, mind, and spirit.
Most of the younglings were happy to be away from the stuffy almshouse after so many years there. This was a holiday to them.
It’s a holiday because they haven’t seen the rigors and awfulness of this lifestyle yet. We haven’t staged a robbery in weeks, ever since the last debacle, because we’ve been trying to keep a low profile and out of sights and minds. They’ll learn, if they stay with us long enough.
