Don’t make a sound,” I said. “Do not alert your bailiffs or so help me you will lose an ear.” I kept my voice low. Angel stood and growled, moving quickly to the hallway and sniffing the air.
“Quiet, girl,” I said to her.
“You are a fool,” the Shire Reeve whispered. “My bailiffs-”
I pushed the sword closer to his neck and his words died in his throat.
“One sound from you, a shout, even a heavy sigh and I will run you through,” I said. “Do you understand me, sire? This can be over quickly, with no harm done if you pay attention. How many bailiffs are on duty in the jail?”
“I won’t tell you any-” he stammered, but another jab from my sword persuaded him to speak the truth. “There are two. Only two.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Now, you will turn and walk silently down the hallway. You will take us directly to Master Hode and you will not call out or warn anyone, is that clear?”
“You won’t-”
“Is that clear!?” I said through clenched teeth, moving the sword ever closer to his throat.
With exaggerated care, William Wendenal, the Shire Reeve of Nottingham, turned and walked down the hallway. Angel took the lead, her nose constantly working the air, and I followed behind him, my sword point pressed against the small of his back. The hallway was as spartan as the room we had just left. Over the Shire Reeve’s shoulder I could see light ahead as it led to a bigger room, which must be the jail.
Angel gave a low whine and I assumed it was because she smelled men ahead, or perhaps she had caught Robard’s scent. I shushed her and we kept moving forward.
“I have the authority to hang you for this,” Wendenal said.
“Sire, there is a long list of people far more powerful than you who have threatened to hang me, and yet I’m still here. Be silent.”
The walk down the hallway took an eternity. With every step I second-guessed myself. My heart was hammering in my chest as we stepped into a large room with stone walls and a series of iron-barred cells along the rear wall. Two bailiffs sat at a large table to my left. At first they didn’t understand the situation, but once they observed my sword pointed at the back of the Shire Reeve, they jumped to their feet, drawing their own blades.
“The first of you to move against me will have your reeve’s blood on his hands,” I said as calmly as I could.
They stood stock-still. When I chanced a glance at the cells, my heart sank, then pounded with rage. There were three of them, each nearly ten feet on a side. And they were full of men, at least ten or fifteen in each cage. They were dirty and ragged, and their smell nearly overwhelmed me. They were so crowded together there was barely room for any of them to move.
“What have these men done to be treated so?” I demanded.
“They have refused or proved unable to pay their properly levied taxes to the crown,” the Shire Reeve insisted.
“My God. And you think you’ve the right to lock them up like animals?” I nearly cried.
“They have broken the law. There is-”
“Enough!” I interrupted him.
I couldn’t spot Robard through the crowded cells. They were too full of men. But Angel found him. She barged forward to the center cell and wormed her way through the bars. Startled, the men inside moved aside as she ran to Robard, who was sitting against the rear wall. He was in bad shape. He appeared to have been beaten severely and sat with his head slumped forward on his chest, but when Angel jumped into his lap, he raised his head and gazed at me through swollen eyes.
“I was wondering when you’d get here,” he groaned.
“Can you stand? Walk?” I asked.
He nodded and two men in his cell helped him to his feet.
“Sorry about your jaw,” he said.
“Don’t worry. Maryam hits harder than you.” I laughed as I spoke, and so did he. And it might be true: Maryam did hit awfully hard.
Watching him limp slowly toward the door, my blood boiled. If I had not sworn to obey the Templar Code, I would have struck down the Shire Reeve, defenseless or not.
“Instruct your men to unlock the cells,” I ordered.
I expected token resistance or another warning of the rope awaiting me, but Wendenal shrugged toward the bailiff with a large set of iron keys on his belt, and he obediently opened the middle cell door.
“Come, Robard, we have places to be,” I said.
“A moment, Tristan,” he said as he walked through the door of his cell. I thought the bailiff might strike him down, but with another glance in my direction he stayed his hand. Robard snatched away first his sword and then the keys.
As quickly as his weakened state would allow, he unlocked the remaining cell doors.
“All of you are free. Leave now. Return to your homes and families. If you’ve a mind, join me in Sherwood. Thanks to this man, we don’t have much, but we’ll share what we have. If you’re no friend to tyranny, find me there,” he said.
Some of the men, exhausted and abused as they were, remained still, too afraid to move. But eventually they filed out of their cells. Some of them limping and moving gingerly, a few helping the sick and infirm. Slowly at first, then more rapidly they filed past me and down the hallway to the constabulary.
Robard prodded the bailiff into the cell with his own sword. Suddenly, the other bailiff made a move. Angel barked in warning and I shouted. Wendenal tried to squirm away, but I grabbed him by the collar of his cape and held him firmly, making sure he could feel my sword at his back. As the bailiff advanced, Robard threw open the cell door, catching the man square in the face. He tumbled to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Groaning with the effort, Robard dragged the unconscious man into the center cell and locked him in.
“All right, Shire Reeve,” he said. “In you go.”
“You are insane. I will see you both hang for this,” Wendenal sputtered.
I pushed him forward roughly and he stumbled into the last remaining empty cell. Robard turned the key in the lock and smiled, though it appeared to cause him pain. He shuffled across the room and stuffed the keys in his belt, then snatched up his bow and wallet from where they had been stacked in the corner.
“I will find you,” Wendenal said through the bars, his voice full of rage. “My men and I will hunt you down and you will both hang.”
Robard walked back to the cell, staring at Wendenal through the bars.
“My name is Robard Hode, son of Robard Hode the second, and I consider you his murderer. I’m returning to my land in Sherwood Forest, and if you intend to hang me, find me there if you can, or dare. Enjoy your stay in your own jail, Shire Reeve.” Robard limped over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. His face was bruised and scratched, and it was difficult for him to move, though he tried not to show it.
“I knew you’d come for me,” he said.
“You’d do the same. In fact, you already have.”
“Aye. So what do you suggest we do next?” he asked.
“Run,” I said.
“That’s the best plan I think you’ve ever had,” he said.
So, with Angel barking and leading us down the hallway, and as quickly as Robard’s wounds would allow, we ran.
We had not reached the front room before the shouts of Wendenal and his bailiffs rang out. We burst through the door into the street and squinted at the light. Maryam raced to Robard’s side and pulled him into a fierce embrace. There was joy on her face mixed with the rage she felt at seeing him so beaten. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of sending Maryam into the jail with her daggers and letting her settle with the Shire Reeve.
Tuck and John joined our little group, and across the street I saw Will and his men stand ready, drawing arrows. Tuck quickly examined Robard’s arms and hands and shook his head to me while making a motion with his hands as if he were snapping a twig in two.
“Tuck says you have nothing broken,” I said.
“Really? Have him check again if you don’t mind, for I certainly feel as if I do.” Robard smiled grimly. This only caused Maryam to hug him harder and this time he squawked in pain. “Easy, Maryam. You win this round,” he joked.
Allan approached quickly with our horses.
“Little John, I expect a few men will be shortly coming out the door there. Would you stand ready?” I asked.
As we helped Robard into the saddle, a window above the jail crashed open and a crossbow poked through. “Ho!” Will shouted in alarm. He and three of his men stepped forward from their hiding places and sent a hail of arrows at the window, driving the man there back in retreat before he could get a shot off.
The door to the jail crashed open and two bailiffs rushed out. “Halt in the na-” one of them tried to say, but Little John’s staff took the man square in the gut and drove him to the ground. The man behind him had his sword at the ready, but before he could move, Little John snapped the end of his staff into his jaw and he fell to the muddy street unconscious. The downed man tried to stand, but John drove a very large fist into his jaw, and he collapsed and moved no more. Very quickly Little John produced a small length of rope from his tunic and wrapped one end securely through the large wooden handle on the door. He tied the other end tightly to a nearby hitching post, which effectively made the door impossible to open from the inside.
Curious onlookers gathered in the street outside the jail, and when they saw Little John and Will Scarlet besting the Shire Reeve’s men, many of them cheered. The noise brought more villagers to investigate the commotion. Before he mounted his horse, Allan Aidale climbed up on top of a nearby barrel and shouted, “Why, it must be the Merry Men we’ve heard tell of! They’ve come to test the Shire Reeve! Only they could stand against him!” And he exhorted the crowd to chant, “Merry Men! Merry Men!”
With the cheers of the townsfolk ringing in our ears we goaded our horses to run and rode hard and fast for Sherwood Forest.