Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1)

Everything I Do

M. C. FRANK

For Pauline

who was the first to say: “why don’t you write it down?”

when we were seven.

Well, a million years later, here it is.

PROLogue

The vault

A man stood alone in the rain, his ragged, torn, peasant’s clothes dripping with water, his hair shining with it, his hands clenched at his sides.

The icy water pelted mightily on him, still he did not stir, he did not so much as move a muscle, oblivious to the cold. He was a tall man, accustomed to standing proud among the sun-drenched trees of Sherwood Forest, clad in green from head to toe so that he would blend in amongst the leaves and thus conceal himself from enemies who wanted to destroy everything he stood for:

He was an outlaw, and proud of it.

Yet tonight his appearance was the exact opposite of what it had once been. His black eyes were ablaze with rage and desperation, his fists were bloodstained and scraped raw at the knuckles. His hair curled at his collar, overgrown and glistening with raindrops in all its black, untamed glory.

His face was lean and angular, thinner than usual, but still handsome underneath the sorrow and pain that marred his tanned brow. His cheeks were unshaven, as though he had gone a long time without rest or proper care, and his eyes were bloodshot, dry with unshed tears.

The man who was known as Robin Hood flexed his muscles as though he was readying himself for battle, and took one step forward. Then he froze again, a fear stronger than anything he had ever known gripping him. For this battle had already been fought. And lost. There was nothing to do now, no arrow left to let fly at his enemy, no sturdy rod to carry in his hands. And his enemy stood within him rather than in front of him, and there was no way to defeat him.

He heard a faint rustle of movement from within the burial vault in front of him, for, despite the constant song of the rain, his ears were trained like a cat’s. Frowning, he moved towards it.

He had to stop once more to take a deep breath, for his lungs threatened to burst.

Within that vault, on one of the marble graves, lay what had been most precious, most important to him once. What he had once fought for with his every breath, what he would once gladly give his life for. And still. But he had lost her forever, murdered her love for him by his own hand.

And now, her life lay in ruins as well. A life lost, a life wasted.

How many times had he nearly lost her? How many times had he been irrevocably separated from her? He could remember it all with perfect clarity. And now… it would seem that fate had won after all.

It would seem that hope had finally died.

A sudden pain sliced his heart like a knife, and he collapsed on his knees, the rain obscuring his vision, his bruised skin screaming in protest. He had spent the night in the Sheriff’s dungeons -he shuddered to think of others that had gone through an experience as horrific as that.

And yet, he would have given everything to be back in there right now, and not to have to face what awaited him in the vault that lay a few steps before him.

The night, black as ink, was illuminated by a thin ray of light coming from inside, for no doubt many candles had been lit, keeping vigil over the recently dead. Inside, a shadow moved. Then, Robin heard a soft thud.

His heart in his mouth, he picked himself off the ground and ran.

CHAPTER
1

THE BOY

It was around dusk when they brought the boy before him.

The branches of the great oak tree were silver with raindrops and Robin Hood’s deerskin knee-high boots sank in the mud with every step, as he climbed lightly to the ground. He met his second-in-command’s glance squarely, and then his eyes traveled to the grey gelding he was leading by the tether.

Next to it walked a young lad, not a day older than fifteen by the looks of him, his eyes wide and innocent, looking up to meet Robin’s trustingly. There were no signs of a struggle on him, for his simple peasant clothes were intact, as was his rather slight person.

“What have we here?” Robin asked in his deep, pleasant voice. He towered a good head and a half above the boy and he had to bend his dark-haired head to look into the lad’s honest face, as he always did when sizing up a stranger. He was surprised to find sincerity in the boy’s gaze and perhaps a bit of urgency.

Another thing he was surprised to find was that the lad’s eyes were of a deep emerald color, thus complimenting the coppery hair that escaped his dark blue hood, and they appeared out of proportion large in his narrow face and quite beautiful.             

Meanwhile the boy didn’t seem to eagerly take in his strange surroundings, as did almost anyone who was invited to the Merry Men’s Camp in the heart of Sherwood Forest. On the contrary, he seemed intent on observing -even perhaps  memorizing- every detail of the chief’s face. So mesmerized did he appear, that Robin had to laughingly ask him twice about his name.

“My name is Stuart and I work in the castle yonder, good sir,” the boy said, in a voice that sounded surprisingly gentle. His pronunciation was suspiciously clear as well, and Robin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, studying him more thoroughly. It could not be denied, he found, that his appearance stated clearly his humble origins and Robin concluded, not without some amusement, that the young lad had taken to imitating the speech of his betters.

Looking into large, impatient eyes, he smiled and said kindly:

“Listen, lad, you are too green to join my band of Merry Men. Honored as we all are, I am sure, I would have you come back a few years hence with a couple of summers on your back and then we will talk about turning you against the law. Until then go help your father and be wary of the evil Sheriff in whose service your family is, as I understand.” For the ‘castle yonder’ the youth had referred to was the residence of the much-hated and much-feared Sheriff of Nottingham.

“No, no! Sir, that is not the reason I sought you out.”

“
Sir
? You are aware I am no gentle-bred lord, boy, are you not?” Robin Hood raised a dark eyebrow in mock surprise.

“You are to me, sir.”

Now both eyebrows went up and in Robin’s intelligent eyes the flicker of a doubt appeared.

“What do you want then, Stuart of the Castle?”

The boy smiled in delight at this informal christening.

“I wanted to speak with you, to warn you.”

“To warn me! Now that is a bold aspiration for one of your years. Come, sit with us while we wait for the meal to be prepared.”

The boy sat quietly, his eyes taking in everything, while Robin Hood went around the camp, greeting his men and asking about their deeds during the day. They all knew that they had to wait until after the meal to hear of their leader’s own adventures, but for now they spooned large mouthfuls of tender game and rich broth to fill their hungry stomachs. Soon enough, their chief came to where Stuart was seated and offered him a drink of water.

Stuart accepted it and began his tale:

“You see, sir, when one lives at the castle, one cannot help hearing things, especially if one tries.” Stuart smiled mischievously. “So I heard something today, which I think may -
must
be of interest to you. I believe the Sheriff intends to pay a visit to the nearby town of Lewes in the next day or so.”

“And when you say visit, you mean, tax collecting and administering a few beatings…”

“And burning a few homes, yes.”

“Good Lord, I thought we had finished with that kind of thing, for this month at least. Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I find the fact that you call me sir a bit unnerving, Stuart of the Castle.” Robin’s eyes were sparkling with humor, but there seemed to be sincerity in his words as well. “And you claim to have gathered this information from the proximity of the…”

“Stables.” Stuart’s voice sounded a bit unsure, but Robin looked in the boy’s eyes, and they seemed clear like water from a spring. They had an odd color, a quite exceptional green, and an even more unique shape. The lad would grow up to become a handsome man, he thought. That was a strange thought to strike him at the moment, but the youth seemed to have already found a place in his heart.

Too bad there was no way he could believe him.

“Come on, Stuart. Let’s get something to eat. You will find that our cooking may excel even that of our good Sheriff’s kitchens.”

“Thank you, sir, I am sure it is. It certainly should be better for the heart, at any rate.”

Robin turned to look at the boy in surprise for the third time in the course of the evening. He could have sworn that it was not possible for such a young mind to contain such deep thoughts on the world.

“But since I have nothing more to tell you, I think it would be best if I were to go back before I was missed.” With these words, the boy stood up to leave, a serene smile of satisfaction on his lovely face.

Suddenly the thought was unbearable to Robin that this fragile youth should have to brave the dangers of the forest amid the gathering darkness.

“I’ll take you”, he said before he had time to think.

Stuart’s eyes seemed to have gotten incredibly round with surprise and alarm.

“No!” he almost shouted.

“What I say goes here, boy. This is my territory, I will have you know.”

“I know it is your territory, Robin Hood. But you would be a fool to even consider going near the direction that I am going.”

He liked the sound of his name on the boy’s lips. Odd, that. Anyway, he somehow had to persuade him to accept his escort. His feelings of protectiveness allowed him to do no less.

“Come, I will take you only as far as is safe, I promise.”

They rode in silence for a while, and then the boy spoke:

“I can’t believe I did it!”

His voice sounded so excited and childlike, that Robin couldn’t help but smile.

“Did what?” he asked.

“I managed to come to you and warn you. I may have saved all those poor people!”

Robin pulled on the reins of his horse and put out a hand to halt his companion’s horse, too.

“I won’t say that it wasn’t incredibly brave of you to seek out a band of outlaws in the forest, for it was. But whoever sent you, you should let them know that their plan failed.” He tried to sound gentle, for somehow he was loath to quench the joy he had  heard in the lad’s voice. However he was angry at those -the Sheriff himself, perhaps? Surely it would not be beneath him- who had picked a mere boy as their envoy for the trap they meant to set him. It was the act of a coward and a sloth and it infuriated him. “I have to say though; this is not a very promising beginning for the life of a youth such as you. I hope in future you can choose your advisors more carefully.”

The boy that called himself Stuart looked at Robin, incredulity written on his face. Then, as understanding slowly dawned on him, he said in a trembling voice, as if he had difficulty crediting the words himself:

“You… you don’t believe me!”

Robin laughed aloud, his mirth echoing in the descending darkness.

“What kind of a leader would I be if I naively lead my men into every trap that was laid out for us? Do not look so out of sorts, lad. I tell you, I should have done a lot more than laugh at your expense. Don’t push your luck now.”

The boy turned to look at him full in the face. Robin was taken aback by the deep sadness he saw in the boy’s eyes. It was unprecedented that he would be so much disturbed by a petty little traitor, but so it was. He was silent for a moment, as the youth’s gaze bore into his very soul, it seemed, and the boy struggled for words amid his frustration.

“It never occurred to me that you would doubt my sincerity and my devotion to you,” the boy finally said, in a somber tone that belied his years. “I suppose that is daft. It’s merely that … I risked so much and faced such… well, I didn’t have time to worry about how to persuade you.”

“What were you going to say? Just there, you faced… what?” all the pity was gone from Robin’s voice now and he was genuinely intrigued.