My eyes burned. “It’s right fair to blame me, Much.”
“You didn’t do this,” he insisted. “Besides, what can you do without us?”
“It’s easy,” I said soft. “Gisbourne will do just about anything to get me. I can trade for the townspeople.”
“What are you talking about?” John asked, stepping closer.
Much sighed. “Are you Marian, then?”
I nodded.
“Scar, you can’t go. He barely knew Thom. What’s he going to do to you?”
“It doesn’t matter. My life can purchase twenty-seven others, Much. What would you have me do?”
Much stepped up a stair, closer to me. “Fight.”
I looked at him.
“Fight, Scar, because God knows I can’t fight the way I want to.”
I never thought ’bout Much’s arm if I could help it, the scarred, black stump where his hand were cut off by the sheriff’s men. He kept it away, in a pocket or under a cloak. He put it between us now. I put my hand on it. If I could ever heal anything, I wished it could be that.
“I’ll help, then I’m leaving,” I told him. “For good.” Much looked to Rob, but I pushed past him. The front door of the tavern looked awful tempting, but I went instead to the kitchen, taking some broth. Relief were washing through me in pulses with the pain, and so were a toppling, crushing, mind-cracking amount of fear.
Tuck let me stay in the room for the next few days. I needed to heal up a bit, and it were better done warm and fed. I think the lads agreed to it because Tuck and his wife kept a closer eye on me than they did. It felt strange to be so far from the lads. Felt strange to be far from Rob, but I didn’t want to think about that none.
I didn’t want to go into the town. I were sure they’d stone me or something fair awful. I needed to come up with a plan, but nothing were coming. Any minute Rob were going to walk through and tell me the townspeople were set to die the next day, and I wouldn’t have a plan.
The lads came together while I were mopping the floor. Ethel, Tuck’s wife, thought that there were no reason I shouldn’t be put to some light work since I weren’t paying none. I stopped, straightening up. “When is it?” I asked.
“Five days,” John said.
“Five?” I asked. “But isn’t that Ravenna’s wedding?”
“The sheriff’s, you mean?” Rob said. “Four days. They’re hanging everyone the day after the wedding. Because the sheriff is disappointed that the locals don’t love him as they should.”
I looked at him. He looked worn, like an old doll.
“There’s more,” John said. His voice sounded heavier than a ship anchor. “They’ve moved the prison. All our townspeople are being held in a place where we’ve never been and don’t know how to break out of.”
The mop fell from my hands. “How do you know?” I asked. This were all kinds of bad.
John looked to Rob, and Rob leaned forward, wary of the other bodies in the place. “Ravenna.”
I craned forward, sure I heard him wrong. “What?”
“Ravenna. She passed us the information, and she’s going to try and get a map of the prison.”
I double-stepped forward, pushing at Rob’s big shoulders. “You stupid blighter, you’re going to get her killed!” I hissed.
John pulled me back. “Easy, Scar. Godfrey gave it to us. We didn’t go asking for it.”
“Well, you shouldn’t take the map! They’ll figure it out. Gisbourne’s smarter than all you lot and he will know, and he’ll tell the sheriff and the sheriff will kill her. I may be responsible for the rest, but you’re to blame for her, Robin!” I snarled. It weren’t true, and I knew so, but I felt sick and angry and awful hateful toward him.
Rob pushed John off and shoved me. I stumbled, more out of shock than pain. It were the least gentleman-like thing he’d ever done. “They are all my responsibility, Marian,” he said, spitting out my given name like a curse. “Every death and every pain that they bear gets charged on my soul—do you understand that?”
Fury and shame caught like kindling inside me. “You don’t get to do that!” I bellowed. Well, as much a bellow as I could muster, leastways. I caught his shoulders and kneed him in the bits, making him double over as John and Much each gave a moan for him. I heaved him onto the ground. “You do not get to be some goddamn martyr, you hear me? You are a pigheaded, stubborn, stupid boy and you are not going to put more people in danger. We will figure out the lay of this prison like we done the last. We will get them out and get them free without her help. And don’t you ever, ever call me Marian.”
I picked up the mop and started washing again as Rob struggled to his feet, red faced. John laughed, and Much covered a smile.
“You lot think this is funny?” I asked. “I’ll unman you too, if you wish it.”
They jumped back, and Rob grunted, “You haven’t unmanned me, and I resent the implication of it.”
“It were a warning blow,” I told him, shoving the mop ’cross the floor. “Next time I’ll try harder.”
Rob covered himself. “No next time, Scar.”
I could lie and say that I didn’t even notice him calling me Scar, but I did, and it thrilled me.
“Look,” I said, continuing to mop, “I might have a plan.”
Rob crossed his arms, but the others looked fair interested.
“Gisbourne’s mucked with everything in the castle, but there’s one sort can still get through.”
“Rats?” John asked with a chuckle.
“I don’t think she means animals, John,” Much said soft.
“A holy sort,” I told them, and I looked to Rob.
Robin’s eyebrows shot skyward. “You want us to impersonate the clergy?”
“He knows your secret,” Rob muttered to me, rearranging his monk’s robes as we walked behind Brother Benedict.
“Can’t lie to God.”
He jammed a hand in Benedict’s direction. “He’s not God.”
“He’s a monk, Rob.”
“So you never told me because I’m not holy enough?”
“Just hush. When this is done, we won’t never have to talk ’bout it again, and never see each other neither.”
“You’re really going to leave?”
“I told you I would.”
“You told John you would before too, and that didn’t happen.”
“I don’t tell you lies, Rob. I never talked about my past, but I never lied to you none, and I’m not lying now. Once the townspeople are safe, I’m gone.”
“Fine.”
“You’re the one who’s always telling me to go, ain’t you?” I snapped.
“I said fine.”
I glared at him, but I were hidden in the monk’s hood, so it went unnoticed. Dark were falling on us as we came to the castle, and the guard looked us over.
“Too many, Brother!”
“I was told you have a great many to tend to.”
The guard looked to the portcullis. “God’s truth. Go in,” he said, waving to the other guards to open the gate.
Honestly, this were what I liked best about being a thief—even a dirty one at that. Sometimes, if you just had a bit of ichor in your blood, you could walk where no one else could and do things that no one else dared. Like walk into Nottingham Castle with an escort that didn’t mean to lock you up.
We walked through the levels of the castle, past the old prison on the middle bailey and on up to the uppermost bailey. The guard led us to the side of the residences where, almost a full month past, I’d seen all the builders and guards going to and fro. Fool that I were! Why didn’t I look in on it? We would have known this all ages ago, and I would have had time for a proper plan.
There were a set of stairs carved into the ground, and we started going down into the rock that Nottingham Castle were built on. The staircase were narrow and bottomed out into a wide bailey with several guards, which meant that the entrance may as well have been Death’s own scythe; we’d ne
ver sneak in through that way alive.
The guards let us into a big U-shape of cells, thirty in all. Light were coming from lamps, but the air were thick and close, crawling over my skin. There weren’t no fresh air coming down, and that meant no vents, no way for me to sneak in nor out. There were a staircase leading lower in the far corner, and my mind went to it first.
I heard a whip crack from that way, and I guessed what lay on the next floor down. I hit Rob’s wrist, and while he and the others began to move to the prisoners and pray with them, I darted off to the side, going down the stairs.
I stayed close to the wall, not sure whether playing the monk or the darting thief would help me with whatever stood at the bottom of the stairs. I walked down slow, seeing the rough, carved-out wall. It were wet with water. I crouched low, looking into the room, then pulling back. There were a big fire and blood. Blood everywhere. The prison were bare weeks old, and it already looked soaked into the ground, draining into a grate in the center of the room. There were manacles and chains and a wall of torture devices that made my knees weak. Some were stuck in the fire to make them hot and ready. By the fire there were a block with a groove chipped into it, washed over with blood till it set and stained. I knew what that were for: cutting off hands like they done to Much.
I swallowed back the sick taste in my mouth and went down the stairs. A big man with hair furred over his chest were there. He only had pants on and his skin were the color of bronze, but I didn’t know if it were from firelight, blood and sweat, or his own strange coloring. Whichever way, he were half again as big as John, and I felt fear creeping up.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Brother Francis,” I said. “Come to pray with the prisoner.”
He spat on the floor into the river of blood and nodded, going up to give me time alone with him.
The man sagged in his manacles, his ripped back seeping blood. His chains twisted and he wheeled around slow. It were Hugh Morgan, fool Mistress Morgan’s husband. “Brother,” he groaned, lowering his head. I could hear water running and the fire roaring, but he were gasping low, rasping out breath, and with it came spittle and drool.
“My child,” I said, my voice rough. “Why are they treating you like this?”
“They think I know where the Hood stays.”
“And you will not tell them?”
“They’ve taken everything from me. My wife and my daughters are upstairs—have you seen them?”
“Not yet. I’ll look.”
He nodded. “Tell them I love them.”
“You aren’t dying, Hugh.”
“You know my name?”
Damn. “Eh,” I said. “I’m a man of God, Hugh.” It were a weak lie.
“I won’t give them anything when they’ve taken everything else, Brother.”
I laid my hand on his chest, hoping he were too much in pain to see that it were small and smooth, with no furry knuckles. “Salvation will come, Hugh.” I leaned closer. “On the fourth day. Hold on, Hugh. Please, hold on.”
“Will the Christ come for me?” he groaned.
“No,” I said, tipping up my hood enough so he could see my eyes. “I will.”
I saw it then, in his eyes. Hope. The whole reason we did any of this, the whole reason I weren’t sure I could ever leave Rob—it were all hope.
“Stay strong, Hugh. And pray. It helps.”
“Look after my family.”
I nodded as the torturer came down the stairs. I went to him. “This man has confessed his soul to me, and he swears no knowledge of the Hood’s hole. I cannot fathom he would risk his immortal soul to protect a rapscallion.”
The man heaved a grunt, looking at him. “Done with his lot anyway. If the Hood has a haunt, these people don’t know of it.”
I started up the stairs, then paused. “If you want to confess yourself, God and his Son both wait to lighten your soul,” I told him.
He thought it over a moment. I didn’t know if he had a ripe secret to confess, and I were sure I’d have to confess it myself on Sunday, but it were worth the chance. “No, Brother.”
I nodded, going up the stairs. The others were with the prisoners, speaking to them, praying with them. I walked through and saw Mistress Morgan and her girls huddled together and sobbing. I slipped bread in through the bars, not meeting her eyes as she took it. She caught my wrist and squeezed it, not a cruel thing but a kind one, and I nodded. It weren’t the time for pride.
I parceled out the rest of the food that I snuck in, and I didn’t speak. Hugh would spread the word more quiet than me.
It were a terrible feeling to leave. I thought of Ravenna, and Joanna, and all the times I left someone behind and near killed myself for it later. It wouldn’t be the same with them. I could get them out.
We three left, and we never spoke till we gathered at Tuck’s after returning Benedict and the robes. Once there, we went down to the cellar, and Tuck brought us ale to drink.
“It’s not far from the tunnel,” I said. “Much closer than the last.”
“Yes, but we’ll have to have a monumental distraction. Something to draw all those guards out of the prison, because the only way in and out is the front entrance.”
I nodded, thinking of the grate in the floor below. I’d have to see where that led before I piped up, though.
“I think I can create a distraction,” Much said. “With the powder from the cave.”
“An explosion?” Robin asked.
Much shook his head. “I haven’t found enough for an explosion. Close to it, but not enough.”
“But what can we light that they’ll care about?” I asked. “The residences are too close. It won’t give us near enough time.”
“The noble residences,” Rob said, draining his cup. “But I reckon all the guards have families in the shacks. And we want the guards defecting, don’t we?”
“Without hurting anyone,” I added.
Much nodded. “That I can manage. With John.”
John looked to me, and I felt his eyes on me. “You’d have to really protect her, Rob.”
“I’ll protect her with my life and bones, John, you know that.”
His words were fierce and he meant them, and I found myself staring. He flicked his eyes over my side and back.
“Got to keep you in shape enough to walk away from us, Scar,” he told me.
“We all protect each other. No one is getting hurt, pinched, or nothing,” I said.
“We have two days to get everything we need. We’ll go the night before the wedding,” Rob said.
“Why not the next night?” Much asked. “We’ve a lot to prepare.”
“We can’t risk it,” Robin said. “If anything goes wrong, if they anticipate us, we need the extra night to ensure that everyone gets out of there alive.”
Chapter
Fifteen
Two days passed in a rush. I had checked the stream by the castle, but there weren’t so much as a drop of blood in it. If the prison grate led out, it weren’t to here. Sticking to our plan, we stood in the cave together, dressing for battle. I covered every bit of me with knives, and Rob had his big sword from the Crusades, knives, and a longbow besides. Much had his kattari and John his quarterstaff and sword. The boys had bits of armor we’d lifted, but nothing fit me right, so I were girded in heavy leathers. The mother cat were making rings round my ankles, and I told myself it were luck, like she were patterning me with old Celt magic.
John took my wrist and drew me outside, out of view of the others. He kissed me, a quick little one. I scowled and he said, “For luck” before I could holler. “And this is for luck too.”
He pushed cold metal into my hand, and I looked down. My favorite knife, the one that guard had broken, were reformed and perfect, down to the small red garnet in the handle. He’d tied my ribbon to the hilt like I liked.
“You have to stay safe, Scar. Maybe it’s your bits in a dress and maybe it’s just you, but I’m awful fond of
something in there. So don’t get killed.”
I jumped a little to wrap my arms round his shoulders, and he held on, hugging me off the ground. “You too,” I told him. “And keep Much alive. I’m pretty fond of all you lads.”
He let me down. “No special fondness for me?”
“Don’t think it’s the kind you want, John.”
“Come on, Scar, we both know you like me.” He grinned at me, but I looked away. Much and Rob had appeared at the edge of the cave, and my eyes went sharp to Rob’s form.
John’s face folded into a scowl. “You do like me. But I disappear as soon as the noble Earl Huntingdon is around, isn’t that right?”
My eyes came back to him. “John—” I tried, but he shook his head, walking away from me.
I slid the knife to its rightful spot in my vest with a sigh. I hugged Much and then went to Rob, standing before him for what seemed like a whole life. “We’ll get them out, Rob. I swear it.”
“I know,” he told me. “You’re the only person I’d trust with this, woman or not.”
My heart swelled up. “You’re the only person I trust, Rob.”
His face jerked, like I’d slapped him. “I don’t want to hear that you trust me. You don’t trust me. You lied to me about everything.”
“I didn’t lie ’bout everything, Rob.”
“No? What’s something you told me the truth about? Your name? Your family? Your intended?”
I scowled. “I gave you more than anyone. Ever. No one knows ’bout Joanna. I’ve never told no one the things I’ve told you. I know you’re cross with me, and you’ve a right to be. But you said it yourself—you saw me, and you knew me, when I didn’t want anyone even taking a peek.”
He shook his head sharp. “And that’s the worst part, Scar! I thought I knew you better than anyone. I thought it meant something, that I could tell you these things shackled around my heart and trust you with them. That you could do the same with me. I was a fool to think—” He stopped short and shook his head again. “But I was wrong. You know me because I gave you me. But you were not your own to give, were you?”