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“Freedom or death!”
Once we were done, hoarse and breathing heavily, I lowered my fist with a decisive nod. Our community is here. Our people are ready, no matter what awaits us in Nottingham tomorrow.
“Let’s get some sleep, everyone,” I said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
Little did I know, of course, just how life-altering and earth-shattering it would really be.
Chapter 26
Robin
Acarriage rolled between our group as we made our way into Nottingham through the eastern gate. Carter gave us the nod at the gate, as well as his friend and ally, Steven. I searched their faces for any signs of deceit.
Obviously, I didn’t find any. Any man could hide their true nature from a passing glance. We’d been paying Carter well over the past few weeks with our dwindling coffers, and hopefully hadn’t given him any reason to give up supporting the Merry Men.
The carriage was driven by Friar Tuck, who wore a fashionable tunic—crafted by Emma and Gracie—and looked the part of a traveling merchant. It was odd seeing him in anything other than his friar’s habit.
A third guard, whom we didn’t recognize, called for a search of the carriage once we pushed through. My heart stuttered and I walked in with a mob with my hood down, trying to avoid attention. The group was a mix of Merry Men and honest commoners, farmers, and merchants coming into Nottingham for morning trade.
The guard approached the carriage and threw open the door. He hopped in and searched around the empty space, finding only a few bundles of clothes, cutlery, and other trivial items. Then he waved us on.
We hadn’t brought the carriage to stowaway Merry Men, because that would have been foolish. The likelihood of getting searched on the day of an execution was sky-high.
We’d need the carriage to smuggle one huge, noticeable fugitive out of town, though, because Little John would be instantly recognizable by the guards here after being captive for so long. We needed to hide him, rather than running him blindly through Nottingham toward one of the gates.
Our group at the eastern gate was comprised of me, Tuck, Will, Alan, and the carriage. At the southern side coming in through Wilford would be Crisp and his crew, while Tate, Griff, Much, and some others would be entering through the north.
The triangulated approach was the best chance of avoiding discovery. If we all surged in at one gate, it would overwhelm the guards and there’d be a greater risk of being recognized. This way, even if one of the groups of outlaws was caught barging into town through a gate, we still had two other entrances and points of attack.
Everything had been meticulously planned. Now it was time to execute before a different type of execution took place.
Alan-a-Dale stood closest to me. He wore his lute, keeping it polished and shining so it would be the first thing people noticed about him—besides his flowing golden hair, of course—and would make him look unthreatening.
Once the crowd of commoners dispersed in separate directions after passing the gate, I noticed Will Scarlet marching on the opposite side of the street from me, trying to stay inconspicuous. He didn’t wear his two swords on his back because those were a noticeable target for trouble, opting instead for a bevy of daggers hidden on his person. It didn’t matter what kind of bladed weapon Will had on him—any sharpened edge would do the trick.
I, on the other hand, managed to smuggle my shortbow across my back, hidden under my cloak. I had it positioned in a way that it didn’t stick up over my shoulders, and thanked the angels that I was accustomed to using a smaller bow than most. It also helped I was a woman—and making that fact clear with my hood down—which people instinctively didn’t see as a threat.
A large congregation of peasants joined our little troop heading for the town square, to watch the largest event of the season. As we walked, criers and heralds called out on their boxes:
“Don’t miss the execution of Little John and his rabid Merry Men! Just through here!”
“Get your merchandise and foodstuffs early, and find a place to stand!”
“The square will be packed full of citizens such as yourself, gleefully cheering on the death of such a heinous criminal!”
Their words vexed me, yet I kept my emotions down. The thread of anger was a steady hum, a pervasive pulse, and all I do was grit my teeth and bear it. I have to remember no one here knows Little John like I do. They only know what he’s been wrongly advertised as by the arm of Sheriff George and the law.
The crowd became dense the closer we drew to the square. People were shoved together, shoulder to shoulder, and for a moment panic set in as I lost track of Will and Alan. I looked up and over a shorter woman’s shoulder and noticed Tuck’s carriage swaying side to side as it rolled over uneven cobbles.
I pushed my way through to catch up. My heart raced, even though the event hadn’t even begun. The truth of what we were doing settled in and took root deep in my belly.
If we were successful today, it would become the stuff of legend. Alan would write a song about it, and he wouldn’t be the only one.
If we failed . . . it would become legend for a different reason. A cautionary tale about what happened when a ragtag band of rebels and outlaws took up arms against the iron fist of the law.
I couldn’t focus on any of that. I had to keep my mind on the simple things: putting one foot in front of the other, staying alert, and making sure I knew where my men were at all times.
As we entered the square, I squeezed in through a group and scurried up behind Will Scarlet, grabbing his hand in a tight grip where no one could see.
