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How can I forge a legacy different than my family’s?
How can I do something that means something?
How can I make a difference at all?
Chapter 14
Robin
Father hadn’t shown his face since retreating to the carriage after the first stop. I was fine with that, because it meant I didn’t need to talk to him.
It was impossible to pass by the royal preserve of Sherwood Forest without delving into it. We began to pass numerous well-hidden villages and hamlets as the afternoon dragged on into dusk.
We passed the priory of Ravenshead, a popular destination for pilgrims, and straddled Sherwood Forest and the Forest of East Derybshire, while rising and falling with the lush green hillsides and thick woods.
Uncle Gregory woke from a midday nap as the carriage bumped over a rude stone in the road. He called for us to make our second stop of the afternoon after we passed a landmark hamlet he recognized.
I gazed out the window. The sun was about to set, painting the sky a beautiful orange hue. I asked my sleepy uncle, “Why stop here? We’ve just passed the hamlets. We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Not that I could complain. I enjoyed the crisp outdoors of the forest. Yet we hardly had more than a clearing to work with.
Gregory frowned, strapping his belt and sword to his waist before standing as the carriage rolled to a stop alongside the road. “The middle of nowhere is precisely where we want to be, dear niece.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “You must understand something, Robin. There are bad people in this world.”
“I’m well aware, Uncle.”
His smile was mischievous. “Yes, I’ve no doubt.” Then his expression turned serious. “We are royalty, Robin, and we can’t escape it. Even I, who desperately tried to run away from his name, could not do it. As sad and cowardly as that may sound, I had my reasons.”
He sat down in front of me, on a crate of linens. “As an heiress of a grand estate, you are used to life being a certain way for you. In Nottingham, you are waited on and worshipped. In an unfamiliar place like this, somewhere between Derbyshire and Yorkshire, in the middle of the woods? Secrecy is our best friend. Our noble bloodline is not worshipped here. We are targets and prey.”
“Isn’t this where the bandits stay, though? Out in the woods, away from authority?”
“They typically make camp inside hamlets just like the ones we passed, where sheriffs and lawmen are scarce. They might have associates posted, watching for a regal arrival such as ours.”
I bit my lip nervously. “Maybe we shouldn’t have brought two lavish carriages on this trek, then.”
He chuckled. “It was your father’s idea.” He gestured at himself, in his rough leathers and worn-down boots. “Do I look like a man who cares about presentation?”
I smiled. “No, Uncle, I can’t say you do.”
It was another critique of Father. Not only did he claim everything under the sun, he also needed everyone to know about it. It put us in a precarious position, because now we had to camp outside of civilization.
“If our carts were seen rolling into nearby hamlets,” Gregory said, “ne’er-do-wells roving the town might tip off the bandits in these woods. I’d sooner avoid that altogether. Last thing we need is an ambush at daybreak, you see?”
I nodded slowly.
He gave my shoulder another light squeeze. “We always have to be cognizant of our surroundings, lass. For people like us, doubly so, because the less fortunate folk want what we have.”
“Riches.”
“And a whole shitload of them in this very carriage,” Uncle Gregory finished with a wink.
I let out a shaky sigh.
My uncle noticed and tapped the scabbard hanging from his belt. “Never fear, lass. I have steel to protect you, as do the guards I brought. Just in case the fools get testy with us.”
His reassurance made me feel better about the situation.
Which, in hindsight, was foolish, because I would learn that pain and turmoil followed me everywhere I went. Almost unnaturally so.
