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I turned to walk away, to the tune of Will’s diabolical whistling. “There’s my good girl. Where was I? Do you want me to split you from collar to balls, old man, or shall I make you watch as I slit your son’s throat first?”
“Wait. Wait! Hold!”
I stopped halfway through the parted crowd. Didn’t turn around, waiting.
The old man’s voice was shaky now, as he realized I was one thing, but Will Scarlet was an entirely different animal. “Don’t kill my boy. Please. I take it back.”
Now I did turn. Folded my arms over my breasts. “Where was the Baron Mansfield leading you?”
“To Nottingham.”
As I suspected. “Why?”
“We go where the baron takes us. How should I know? We get paid to swing a sword, not think.”
“Not good enough. Try again.”
The old man clamped his jaw shut, then Will inched closer to his son’s neck with his sword.
“Big meeting going on,” the old one continued, “I suppose, between the Sheriff and some higher ups. Bishops or priests, I think?”
I furrowed my brow. “Why would the baron be needed for something like that?”
“Now that I truly don’t know, girl. I do know he wanted to deliver the robes you stole. Maybe to the priests. They liked the baron’s fabrics.”
My stomach dropped as I realized a separate implication. With my mother dead, that leaves a huge gap for other clothiers to fill—out of town merchants—until my estate and Mama’s workshops are taken over . . . by the Sheriff and his deputies himself, no doubt.
Sheriff George is trying to eradicate the existence of my family name.
I curled my hands into fists under my folded arms, my fingernails biting crescents into my palms. “Why take the route you took, in the middle of the night? There are quicker paths from Mansfield to Nottingham.”
“To avoid detection.”
“Because the baron’s goods were untaxed and illegal.” Less of a question than a statement.
“S’pose so.”
“Baron Easton of Mansfield is a close acquaintance of Sheriff George,” I said. “Why would he deceive the Sheriff?”
The old man tilted his head, his bushy white eyebrows threading together. “How the hell would you know that?”
“I told you!” Carter yelled from his side. “I recogni—”
“Shut up, son,” his father chided. He stared daggers at me, as if trying to place my face.
I wasn’t hiding under my hood—had no reason to amidst the Merry Men. This was my home, as much as my comrades didn’t like me right now.
“I s’pose Easton would want to hoodwink the Sheriff for the same reason as anyone, lass: Because Sir George’s taxes are insane.”
With a sigh, I shook my head. “If your captain had any smarts, eight more of you would be alive right now. You should have joined us if you feel that way.”
The man chuffed with a snort. “Captain Owen was right, girl. We’re guards deputized by Baron Easton of Mansfield. Why would we go backwards? Your little gang of thugs are the shit on our boot treads.”
“That’s it,” Will said, raising his sword point-down toward the man’s shoulder.
He was two seconds from sinking that blade down the man’s shoulder blade and into his heart when I threw my hand out. “Will—no!”
Will paused. One of the Merry Men said, “Do it, Scarlet! Show these fuckers what we’re about!”
