Men of Sherwood (A Rogue's Tale Book 1) Read online

  After checking them over he said, “They’ve been branded, it’ll make them difficult to sell.”

  “Then we leave them somewhere to be found,” I said.

  “They’ll be fine food for someone,” he said.

  I balked at the idea despite my stomach growling. The man looked at me and smiled. “You disapprove of eating horses?”

  “No, yes, I wish it wasn’t necessary.” I stroked a velvet nose.

  “Can you ride?” he asked.

  I nodded. “So can Tuck, not that he’ll admit it readily and he’s not great.”

  “You are?”

  “I’m a better minstrel than I am a horseman but I can hold my own.”

  “You did well with that sword,” he said.

  I nodded. “Thank you and thank you for saving our lives. I couldn’t have saved Tuck against five men.”

  “Then why do you let him preach?” he asked as we caught up two more horses.

  “Because if he doesn’t a big part of him will die. He believes he is doing God’s work,” I said. I removed the saddles of the other two beasts, took the saddlebags containing the taxes, and finally took the bridles off. We couldn’t feed five horses, so I smacked their backsides and they wandered off. I left the equipment on the side of the road for others to find and use.

  “And you don’t?” asked the scarred man.

  I managed a rueful smile. “No. I’m not close with the Good Lord, but I do believe in my brother and we want the same thing.”

  “And what would that be?” he asked.

  “A just and fair world where men and women are equal in the eyes of the law.”

  The man looked amused and horrified all at once. “You’re going to have a tough job making that happen.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I muttered, swinging up into the saddle of a small grey mare. I grunted as various muscles protested at the sudden movement. A hand settled on my thigh, startling me with its heat.

  “You alright?” he asked. His concern felt genuine.

  I stared into the vivid blue eyes, with the late autumn sun on them I could see the multiple shades, running from dark to light, outside to inside, they were crystal bright.

  “Yes,” I whispered, confused by the intensity of his gaze.

  He nodded, dropped his hand and swung up into the black’s saddle. I took hold of the reins belonging to the chestnut and we rode off the road and down the slope to return to Tuck.

  2

  MY EVER PRACTICAL BUT Godly brother helped me take the boots, cloaks and gloves off the dead men. We also took their weapons and belts. The clothes and armour weren’t great quality and I was right, they were riddled with lice and fleas, making them difficult to sell or exchange. Besides, armour didn’t come off men easily and I didn’t want to spend the time stripping them rather than returning to our camp.

  The stranger watched us work but didn’t comment and when we remounted, he handed me a chunk of rough bread and pale cheese.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You’re welcome. Where are we going? As I seem obliged to follow your mad monk on his mission to salvation.”

  I smirked while Tuck scowled, but for once he kept his mouth shut. That could be because he’d finally given in to my pleading and was also stuffing his face with bread and cheese. “There’s a cave not far from here. We’ve been using it as a base. We should make it back before dark.”

  “You still haven’t given us your name, stranger,” Tuck said around a mouthful.

  “No, I haven’t,” the scarred man replied and he kicked the black horse into a fast trot, forcing me to drop my reins and ride out my mare’s sudden lurch into canter before I lost my food.

  Half a league down the muddy road I called a halt towards the stranger. He rode with easy confidence and I had glimpsed heavy mail and pieces of plate armour under his cloak as we’d ridden, but no sword. A narrow path led off the road at the side of a huge oak tree and I dismounted.

  “We shouldn’t ride the horses down here. I’m trying to keep the path as small as possible so it’s not seen. Tuck and I walk single file and make sure we follow the deer path rather than make a more direct route.”

  The scarred face assessed the path and me. “It would be wise to keep the horses but I agree the added weight will increase their tracks.” He pursed his lips for a moment and looked around. “I’ll take all three of them and lead them back to the outcrop using a different route. The cave is in the outcrop?” he asked for clarity.

  I nodded. “This side.”

  “Good, have a fire going by the time I return, with luck I’ll have a bird or rabbit for the pot,” he said with easy confidence.

  “Meat is forbidden on a Friday and it’s –”

  “Listen, monk, I’m fine with you spouting your faith at me if you wish but try depriving me of the necessities of life and I’ll leave you to your fate – hand of God on me or not,” he said.

  Tuck snapped his mouth shut and his pale skin flushed pink. The scarred man hid a grin and winked at me sharing the conspiracy. I smiled in return and felt my cheeks colour but with entirely different thoughts to those of my brother. The way the stranger’s eyes twinkled at me had parts of me waking up for the first time in months, if not years.

  I watched the horses follow the large man with a meekness I wanted to imitate in that moment, then looked at Tuck, who was staring at me. “It’s a sin,” he said the moment the scarred man was out of earshot.

  “Shut up, Tuck or I’ll shut it for you.”

  “Will, it’s wrong to lust for another person, never mind the fact that he’s a man and don’t lie to me and tell me you weren’t lusting, I know that look,” he said, following me as I strode onto the small deer track.

  “Shut up, Tuck.”

  He took the hint and quietened down, following me along the narrow path. We wove between the large trees and damp foliage, the ground slick beneath our feet as the path turned upwards. The birds were settled for the night and the light was fading fast, so I pushed the pace a little and we raced up the final slope to the cave. The outcrop of dark stone stood dozens of feet high and had a narrow fissure in its face which allowed access to one man at a time. I paused before slipping over the threshold to look at the view over the forest. It never failed to take my breath and leave me feeling both small and powerful all at once.

  With the sun turning the sky to fire, the wind shivering the tree tops surrounding the outcrop, and their autumn grace shimmering from the rain earlier in the day, it looked like an eternal paradise. The beauty hid the crimes that existed under the vast canopy of the forest, covering the terrible suffering of the small forest dwelling communities. They were starving to death and disease was growing because of the weakness inherent in the constantly hungry. I closed my fists wanting justice for those lost souls struggling to survive.

  Tuck, never as strong as me, reached my side and stared out over the forest, panting a little. “It’s so beautiful up here,” he murmured. “You can almost see God’s plan.”

  I snorted in derision then saw Tuck’s expression turn from joy to sadness at my dismissal of his faith. I touched his hand and his fingers linked with mine. “I see God’s plan in you, brother.”

  His lovely face flushed with colour as he smiled. I watched him return to the cave and when he’d gone from my sight I sighed and allowed my shoulders to drop. The beating I’d taken at the hands of the soldiers made my right arm hurt and my ribs ache with every breath, and I’d been fighting the need to limp since I’d dismounted from the horse. My face hurt from the bruises I’d doubtless be sporting by now and I licked my split lip, but at least my nose hadn’t broken. I hurt and I knew I’d come far too close to losing Tuck and my life but my need to protect him made me hide the near constant fear and now the physical pain.

  His mission to save the people of Sherwood Forest from the ravages of Church and State, their taxes and tithes that drained body and soul, as well as their constant injustices from those cha
rged to protect them, drove him to preach rebellion and freedom. He also had a nasty habit of standing in the road and declaring the guards who were going through the villages collecting the taxes as devils and sinners, hence the fight I’d tried to save him from earlier, and when we could we robbed them. I loved my brother dearly but he was going to get us both killed, or worse, imprisoned. He might escape the noose as a cleric but I wouldn’t.

  I sighed and turned at the sound of horses coming up the narrow deer path. The man who’d saved my life that afternoon led the three animals and I had the perfect opportunity to study him in the last rays of the dying sun. He moved with the animalistic grace of a dog fox I’d once encountered as a child and he spoke with a gentle rumble that made the horse’s ears twitch. The confidence and strength in his movements from the fight made it clear he was a warrior but he carried no sword at his hip, just a bow, now unstrung and wrapped in oilskins at his back and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. He looked up, sensing me watching him and stopped moving forwards for a moment. Our gazes locked and I felt a shiver travel from the core of my being to the crown of my head and back to my damned cock.

  I had to break the rising tension inside me with something mundane because in that moment all I wanted to do was feel how soft his russet blond hair might be against my cheek. “Glad you made it,” I said.

  “I found a river to hide the hoof prints, no one will track me up here,” he said. I saw the rabbit hanging from the saddle. We’d have meat tonight.

  I nodded. “The horses can come this way, there’s food for them and a small stream for fresh water.” I turned away from him and took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. My hands trembled. I led him around the side of the narrow escarpment and a tiny plateau opened out before us.

  “You have quite a home here,” he said.

  “You should see what we’ve done inside,” I said. “I’ve built this pen for the sheep but I’m sure they won’t mind the company, we only have two, mostly for the milk.”

  “How long have you been living up here?” he asked.

  “Since the spring,” I said. “I don’t know how practical it’ll be come winter, but I need to keep Tuck safe and out of trouble if at all possible.”

  “He seems to be a handful,” the man said.

  “He’s a driven man. I admire that.”

  We began untacking the horses, their winter coats already making them fluffy. Fortunately they were in good condition and seemed to be calmer than most – or maybe that was the company they kept with the stranger. He made me calm and twitchy all at once.

  “You have his faith?” he asked.

  I snorted. “I’m not convinced Jesus himself had Tuck’s faith.”

  The stranger laughed, a warm rolling sound, and my stomach quivered in response. “So you don’t have the same faith?”

  “No,” I said without explaining in detail.

  “Probably wise, one of you has to live in the real world.”

  “Hmm,” I said, carrying a saddle, bridle, bedroll and saddlebags.

  The stranger followed, hefting two saddles without any obvious effort, and everything else. He followed me around the side of the cave and we walked through the narrow entrance, twisting sideways because of the bulky baggage.

  I arrived in the main part of our hidden complex and the stranger whistled. “You’ve been busy.”

  A large fire pit sat in the middle, a natural chimney drawing the smoke up and out of a small crevice. Around the fire were roughly built wooden chairs I’d fashioned and we’d covered in blankets robbed from other soldiers I’d had more luck defeating during the summer. A rise in the rock bed floor gave us a sleeping platform and I’d made two beds. Tuck had gathered the herbs and bracken for the mattresses and we had food stored for at least a few months of the cold season. We’d be a lot better off than many in the forest.

  “I like to make sure I have a home,” I said. “You can place your bedroll near the fire.”

  “Stew tonight,” Tuck said, stirring a large cauldron over the fire. The stranger dropped the rabbit into Tuck’s lap. He grinned and set to dismembering the creature. “The turnips are on the turn though and we’ve run out of swede. I found some burdock and the last of the spring’s garlic I’ve been drying. If you give me a hand we can make some flat bread.”

  “You can wash up back here but you’ll need the lamp to see where you’re going,” I said. I took my fire flint out of the purse hanging from my belt and sparked a light onto the wick of a small clay lamp we’d robbed. I handed it to the stranger and he followed me through the narrow tunnel at the back. Having been here for months I knew my way in the dark to our latrine. With Tuck needing to be clean, because of the monastery training he’d endured, I’d built him the reredorter of his dreams. I’d diverted the small stream running through the back of the cave, channelling some of it off to a small basin for washing, and the rest to carry our bodily waste from the cave, making certain it didn’t pollute the river systems farther downstream by constructing a well for the heavy shit to moulder at the bottom of the pit. I could also close it off and shovel out the shit when necessary. We had a wooden seat to sit on and Tuck collected the leaves or stripped old fabrics that we used for cleaning.

  “I’m impressed. You did all this?” the stranger asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m practical. It’s not difficult, you just have to think things through.”

  “Even the castle in Acre doesn’t have this level of care taken to it,” he said.

  I glanced at him. “You were at Acre?”

  He’d been in the process of putting the lamp down but he stiffened and straightened. “I was.” Shadow hid his face from me again, but his eyes glittered in the small light afforded by the lamp.

  Intuition told me to be careful but the man at least owed me a name, and I thought he might tell me that if I forced him to talk about something else more personal. “You’re a Crusader,” I stated.

  “Can I have some privacy?” he asked, ignoring me.

  I sighed and left the small cave to return to Tuck. He smiled as I approached and we hunkered down to finished preparing our meal. “He like your handiwork?”

  I smiled. “I think I confuse him.”

  Tuck laughed. “Wait until he hears you sing.”

  I smiled but felt a sadness at my core. I loved my brother and we were friends but his loathing for my need to have a special companion, always made it hard for us to be honest with each other. I found the stranger attractive, and if I were alone, having heard his sideways confession about enjoying men, I’d be pursuing the possibility of having a little fun, but Tuck made everything hard work. I understood his anger, it wasn’t like I was innocent of the harm that could be done to a young body, but he took his rage and used his faith to batter me with it.

  The stranger joined us and Tuck made him help with the cooking, and he proved his worth when he produced a small box of pepper for us to add to the stew. I’d only tried the spice a few times in my life and I’d always loved it; a few ground up seeds sprinkled into the pot and the aroma had my mouth watering.

  “We should add wine to the stew, we have plenty,” the stranger said.

  “I’m not putting wine in the stew,” Tuck said, frowning with a ferocity I didn’t want to cross.

  “Well, if you want to be all conventional about it.” He glanced at me and winked. I couldn’t prevent my smile.

  Tuck narrowed his eyes and growled. He grabbed some wooden bowls from beside the fire and started to heap stew into them. I noticed he served our guest first as tradition dictated. I took mine, and the bread that had browned on the hot stones by the fire. I sat in expectation while Tuck served himself. The stranger started to ladle stew into his mouth with his spoon until Tuck began reciting prayers. I waited with patience but my stomach growled through the endless litany he forced us to endure. When he finished with the amen, I started eating with vigour.

  “The least you can do now we are feeding you is
tell us your name,” Tuck said, eyeing the man over his bowl while he chewed.

  “Robin,” he said.

  “From?” Tuck pressed.

  “Nowhere and everywhere. Robin will do,” he said, those blue eyes glittering in the firelight. The shadows threw his scar into an aspect frightening enough to scare children.

  “Well, Robin, it’s lovely to meet you and I’m very grateful you decided to help us,” I said.

  “You are welcome, Will,” he said and he smiled at me. A fire lit in my belly until Tuck growled and snatched up some more bread from the hot stones.

  When the meal finished I took the bowls and rinsed them in the running water then I returned to the fire and saw Tuck cradling my beloved lyre.

  “Play for us, Will,” he said.

  I glanced at Robin and he shrugged. “I haven’t heard more than a crow’s cackle for weeks, it would be good to hear a ballad or two.”

  3

  I SETTLED DOWN BETWEEN Tuck and Robin, tinkered with my prized possession and launched into a bawdy song all soldiers knew well. Our guest joined in the chorus and I even managed to get Tuck to sing a verse in harmony with me. Next came a romance, with King Arthur at its core and a sad tale of lost love, it was a new ballad I’d picked up from a travelling minstrel who’d been in Aquitaine before coming north. When I finished, Robin applauded.

  “A man of many talents,” he said.

  I allowed my fingers to dance over the strings of animal gut and nodded. “I have a gift.”

  “Humble to,” he chuckled.

  “Are you humble about your skill with a sword?” I asked. “Despite not carrying one.”

  Robin’s eyes narrowed and I watched his expression close down. “It is time for sleep.” He rose from the ground and stepped away from the fire; I caught Tuck watching him with concern.