Everything I Do: a Robin Hood romance (Rosa Fitzwalter Book 1) (11 page)

“What is all the commotion about?” she asked.

Helena paused in her scurrying about the room.

“Did you not hear my lady? Your father has declared today a day of festivities.”

Rosa tried to conceal her shudder beneath the covers. Her worst fears were being realized.

“Whatever for?” she asked.

“I thought maybe you could tell us that, my lady. No one else seems to have any idea what we are supposed to be celebrating. Except for the merchantmen, of course… They are celebrating the prospect of filling their pockets…”

Helena seemed to expect some kind of answer from her mistress, but Rosa wasn’t listening. She appeared to be considering something intently and then suddenly she flung her covers aside and ran outside, her white shift billowing behind her, Helena shouting in protest. In no time at all she was on the balustrade, gazing down towards the village. Soon enough she saw what she was looking for and she stood for a moment motionless, her mind racing ahead. Then she turned around and went back to bed.

“I will not come down today, I think, Helena. I feel unwell,” she said, her rosy cheeks belying her words.

“You do?” Helena asked, not without sarcasm.

“If someone asks, I do,” Rosa answered coolly.

“Very well, my lady.”

“And please see to it that no one looks for me during the festival.”

Helena nodded and went about her business, praying to all the saints that her mistress would be safe whatever mad plan she was scheming about this time.

Rosa leapt out of her bed once more and got dressed swiftly. Then she sat down, thinking. For a moment, all she could see in her mind was the scaffold she had seen from the balustrade, rough and ugly, built overnight on a wooden platform right in the middle of the festival ground. Around it, red and blue archery tents were being raised and the merchants were already laying their goods in display beside their carts. The Sheriff’s plan was pretty obvious and she didn’t have enough time to go to the forest and warn the outlaws about the trap. Which they could almost certainly guess, she knew. But they wouldn’t shy away from rescuing Will either, no matter the danger.

Most probably the Sheriff was planning on keeping Will inside his prison while the archery contest lasted, hoping thus to lure the merry men, who would eventually come to his rescue. The prison would be doubly guarded even now; there was no doubt of that.

Of course, if Robin’s men failed to show up during the games, he would bring Will out to the hangman. That would certainly provoke them to come forth.

For a minute, all Rosa could do was worry about Robin. What if he took it into his thick head that there was nothing for it but he must come in person? And his head
was
thick at times. Then she remembered Friar Tuck’s words from yesterday and she tried to pray. But she was so scared for him, she could hardly think. It had been bad enough, she thought, knowing that last night was the last time he would see her as his friend. But how could she ever go on living knowing that he was no more?

She quickly checked her train of thought. She would not be of any help to them at all if she succumbed to this despair. She tried to think as Robin would, with his eternal optimism and his sunny smile, but it wasn’t so easy without the tall trees surrounding her or the soft brown earth beneath her feet. She tried to stay still and repeat the words in her head, like a chant.
Please help them, God Almighty, please help me help them
. That seemed to calm her enough that she could think coherently.

Then, suddenly, a plan began to take form in her mind.

She got up and strode resolutely to an old, intricately-woven Spanish chest in the corner. Bending down, she swept carefully away the heavy woolen cloth that covered its weather-beaten surface and then she lifted the lid. Inside, neatly folded and stacked, lay her dresses, a couple of veils and a few winter cloaks. She’d never cared for gowns and finery, but her father expected her to look regal the few times he had allowed her inside the dining hall, and so she had reluctantly accumulated some fine garments over the last few years.

Now she lifted them out, every one of them, hurriedly, and put them aside, smiling when she came across her boy’s clothes, hidden among the pile of slippery silks. She then reached down to pick up a small object that was lodged at the rough bottom, relieved when her fingers touched its cool surface, for she hadn’t been entirely sure she’d find it.

She swiftly lifted the tiny glass bottle to examine its contents against the light, and proceeded to conceal it deftly among her skirts. Then, putting everything back meticulously, she left her room tidy and clean as it was before and she left her quarters, the hall around her ringing with the determination of her steps.

Descending to the kitchens, Rosa quickly grabbed a chunk of bread without sitting down to eat breakfast properly. She meandered around the stalls of skinned chickens and dried-out herbs distractedly until her eye caught the barrels, brimming with ale, standing in a cluster close to the doors and ready to be moved outside. The Sheriff liked to be thought of as generous, at least for as long as the festivities lasted, so he provided about a dozen barrels of free ale for the villagers’ benefit every time there was a festival in Nottinghamshire. The villagers drank every drop of it with glee, forgetting for the moment that he’d make them pay him back tenfold in taxes for every cup they drank.

Rosa quickly singled one out and towed it aside from the rest using all her strength. When she was sure she wouldn’t confuse which one it was, she opened its  wooden cover slightly and poured inside the entire contents of the little glass bottle. She closed it again, all in one quick movement, unobserved by the busy kitchen-maids.

Then she went to the stables to find Jo. He looked at her suspiciously as soon as he heard what she wanted.

“Make sure that you don’t pick the wrong one. I have singled it out of the rest, it’s pretty obvious which one I’ve put aside for you. Oh, and if anyone asks any questions, you are to say that it was on my orders,” she added quickly.

“Are you sure you want to do this, milady?” he asked again. “I am not only worried for my safety, but for yours too.”

“I’m sure. Thank you, Jo, I will not forget it,” she said simply, not bothering to assure him of her own safety. For one thing
she
wasn’t assured of it at all, but the truth was she wasn’t even concerned about it.

“I’ll take it there, my lady, as soon as I can find another to help me carry it.” For a minute he seemed to want to add something more, but he pressed his lips together and watched her walk briskly away. He shook his head after her and went away, calling to a skinny lad he could see in the distance.

Rosa walked around the gardens to the back side of the castle, trying to school her features into calmness.

The ugly stench of sickness and misery assailed her as soon as she walked in through the heavy gates of the prison. The guards knew her, of course, and drew their weapons aside to let her pass, and she walked along confidently, no trace of the empathy and pain she felt evident on her face as she witnessed the squalor around her.

A mere quarter of the hour later she had finished her business and was walking back to the castle, her heart light and hopeful. Suddenly, she bumped into something so strong and hard that she would have stumbled and fallen if two arms hadn’t reached out to steady her.

“My lady!” a familiar voice said and once again she looked into Sir Hugh’s brooding countenance.

“Sir Hugh,” she answered, mimicking his tone.

“I heard you were unwell,” he said.

“Did you?” suddenly she had no patience with him.

“I was hoping fervently, praying even, that it was not true, but I suddenly find myself wishing that it were, rather than…”

“Why the sudden change?”

“Do you not realize, my lady, in how much danger you are deliberately putting yourself?”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked innocently, abandoning her sarcastic tone.

“It does not take much thought to put two and two together,” he answered severely, his gaze traveling to the iron prison gates and back. Rosa sighed, exasperated.

“What’s it to you, good sir, if I choose to help save a man’s life?”

“A criminal’s, you mean. A robber’s.”

“I do not expect you and me to think alike in this or any other matter.”

Sir Hugh opened his mouth to speak, but he changed his mind. He bent his head down low, reaching as close as he could to the level of her eyes, and the intensity in his nearly stopped her heart with fear. He took her hands in his, for a moment gripping them so hard it hurt her.

“Is there any chance that you will be in grave danger today? Please tell me… You know I would put everything aside, our differences, even my honor,” at this Rosa lifted one eyebrow, but he went on as if he hadn’t noticed, “to come to your aid. Please tell me the truth this once.”

“There will be no cause for you to put your questionable honor aside, I assure you, Sir Hugh.”

He raised his hand to his mouth, as if trying to keep himself from speaking. Then he took her by the shoulders and simply looked at her, searching her face intently.

“What is it?” she asked, puzzled.

“Nothing. I was trying to see whether you…” he stopped, distracted.

“Well, since you seem so concerned, I will tell you that the only thing I did was donate one barrel of ale to the prison guards. I was only just in there, explaining to the head guard: my father would like them to partake in the festivities in this way, not leaving the premises of course, but since everyone will be at the festival, it wouldn’t hurt for them to drink a cup of spirits. That was all.”

He let go of her abruptly, wondering what she was planning to do.

“I would be honor bound to tell the Sheriff of this,” he said harshly.

“Then do,” Rosa replied, a challenge in her eyes.

Sir Hugh scrutinized her face for a minute, then, surprisingly, he smiled.

“You seem to think little of my honor, princess, and even less of my affection for you,” he said and his voice was tender like she had heard it only once before. “Would that it were not so, but I cannot do anything to help it, can I?”

“You are mistaken, my lord. I think little of your honor, it is true. But as for what you call ‘affection’ for me, I mistrust it, but more than that, I despise it. I think of it as your weakness. And mine.”

“Yours? How?” he sounded hopeful.

“I am ashamed to think I have seemingly won so unworthy an admirer.”

Silence, hard as light to a sleeping eye, followed her cruel statement. Before her eyes, Sir Hugh drew himself up and his face became dark and stony once again.

“I see,” he said finally, ice dripping from his words. “Then I have only to bid you farewell, my lady.” And with one final look in her direction, he left.

Sometime later, while she was waiting anxiously in her room, she thought about why she had spoken thus to him. She regretted her cruelty a bit, but nothing of what  she had spoken to him was untrue. She had thought of him as someone of dishonor and deceit before, but now, knowing as she did that a man was facing his death this very day and Sir Hugh did nothing to prevent it, she was disgusted with him. Even more so when she thought about the trap that was waiting Robin’s men, maybe even Robin himself. She was sure that if Sir Hugh hadn’t been instrumental in the hatching of the scheme, then he had at least been privy to it.

Then she turned her thoughts to the little dark stinking cell, two levels below the ground where she had last seen Will Scarlet.

Was he still there? Had her plan failed? For a minute she shut her eyes against a horrible memory. When she had approached his cell, he had been asleep on the ground, a ball of misery and pain, and she hadn’t wanted to wake him. She had only slipped her arm through the iron bars and concealed her small knife between the folds of his dirtied and torn clothing. He would find it when he awoke and put it to good use, she knew. She wished she had been able to carry a larger weapon, but that short knife was all she could secret away in her dress. Scarlet would know how to cause serious damage with even that, she was certain.

The agony of waiting was almost too much to bear, but she tried turning her thoughts to piousness again and it helped pass along the time a bit more easily.

The minutes could still not pass soon enough for her, but at least now she could ease their torturous trickling by until news of success or failure would reach her, and change her fate forever.