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Each of my men wielded weapons they didn’t usually use. John’s quarterstaff was nowhere to be seen. Friar’s knuckle-guards were gone. Will’s two longswords hadn’t come off his back yet. Alan’s blade was sheathed.
They fought in a unified front, with the other Merry Men providing backup and support, striking fear into the enemy’s heart. They struck fear into the hearts of the girls behind me, too, as I’m sure Maria and the others worried they were about to be taken by slavers of a different group.
The hillside became a hellscape of death and clanging swords. The soldiers knew they couldn’t flee from horsemen, so they stood their ground, regrouped, and fought against the Merry Men.
A blur flashed behind me—Maria sprinting off, running up the hill.
“Maria!” called a voice from horseback.
I whipped my head over to see Much the Miller’s Son riding by, shock registering on his face as Maria took off. Unarmed and unarmored.
“Maria!” I echoed, and then chased after her.
We ducked under swinging swords and banging shields; around fighting bodies, no one paying us any attention as they battled for their lives.
We’ve made it this far! I thought, pursuing Maria. I’m not going to let you die on my watch!
The girl had saved my life. By unlatching the shackles around the other girls in the wagon, they had given me a fighting chance against Simon, and then killed the men themselves.
Maria barged through the front door of the abbey. I was close behind when a hand grabbed my arm.
I gasped, spinning with my sword—
And stared into the scared eyes of Much the Miller’s Son.
“Come on!” he urged, and we both burst into the foyer of the structure.
The base level was empty, with only a few flickering candles and kitchen workers off to the side, huddled in a corner.
Maria was already halfway up the stairs to our left.
Much and I darted, gaining on her.
She pushed into a room—the same room where Emma, Ada, and Liz had been sequestered.
Everything happened so fast.
I got through the door just behind Much, both of us wielding our swords and leveling them for whatever was in the room.
Baron Mansfield was sweeping valuables and gold cutlery from a table into a leather bag in the center of the room.
Maria advanced on him, yelling, “Baron Easton, how could you?!”
“Bastard set me up!” yelled the baron, but I had no idea who he was talking about.
Much stalked forward, arm outstretched, pining for Maria while calling her name to bring her back to us.
A shadow appeared from the corner, a dagger glinting in the moonlight through the same window I had jumped through weeks ago.
The shadow darted for Maria from the side, white robes rippling.
Abbot Emery.
“Much!” I screamed in warning, and moved out of the door with my sword—
Not fast enough.
Much the Miller’s Son was fast enough. He reacted by throwing himself forward, putting his body between the blade of Abbot Emery and the girl he lunged at—not even having enough time to swing his sword.
