Sherwood Rogue

Chapter Twenty-Two

November thirtieth, Much arrived, ready to ride with me the next day. We had a special dinner in his honor, and Will and I stayed up late talking with him.

Andrea came in at dawn to wake me. Will stirred as well, but pulled a pillow over his head after recognizing her. I got up and dressed quietly, buckling on my swords and knives. After letting my belt out another notch, I put my hand on my swollen belly, thinking about the life growing there. Sometimes I was able to forget I was going to be a mother. It was at times like this I wished it was over with. Extra weight, extra restrictions on my movements. I had always gone where I wanted when I wanted. That freedom would be gone once the baby came.

I left for breakfast feeling quite grouchy, but when Much met me halfway down the stairs, my mood began to improve. Who could stay a grump when your companion always had a ready smile?

The sun came up, promising a clear, albeit frigid, day. The morning shadows grew short as the day lived up to its potential.

"Like old times," said Much with a grin as we reached the forest. "We should make a day of it."

I laughed. "A bit cold for swimming." Unaccountably nervous for him, I double-checked Much's left arm, making sure he wore his Lincoln green. "And we didn't bring lunch."

"Well, a morning of it then." We laughed as we rode into the forest.

Halfway to Lincoln, I heard a call. I'd known someone was in the underbrush, following us, but I'd ignored him. He was just making sure.

When I heard the call, I pulled up short. "This is it, Much," I said. "And it's about time." Much nodded. I knew he'd known about our "shadow," too.

"Who's that?" Peter asked, with no greeting. He didn't come out, but I recognized his young voice.

"Much," he said, gesturing to the green band around his arm.

Peter didn't answer, obviously waiting for me.

"You've heard of Much the Miller's Son. He was one of Robin's," I tried to assure him. "I brought him to meet Bran."

Peter came out a little, but stayed in the shadows. "The clearing by the river. You know the one." Then he disappeared. We couldn't hear his retreat.

"I guess he doesn't trust me," said Much.

"He will. He's young and smart enough not to make any decisions on his own. But he'll trust you. They all will. We've got to backtrack a little to the river."

Fifteen minutes later, we were in a small clearing at the Trent. Off to one side of the clearing, under a drooping willow, a rock was propped up. The name chipped into it had filled with moss.

Much smiled when he recognized where we were. "A lot of memories here," he whispered, more to himself than me.

We dismounted. While we waited, I squatted in front of the stone and traced Mark's name with my fingers. Recalling the day he died no longer saddened me, just brought fond memories of our brief friendship.

It was a few minutes before Bran appeared.

"Kay," he said by way a greeting. "Who's this?"

"This is Much," I told him. "He's going to take my place."

"What for?" asked Bran. He hadn't come very far into the clearing, and though he didn't look behind him, I knew there were others.

"I won't be able to come out again for a while," I said, putting a hand on my belly for emphasis. My pregnancy was beginning to be quite obvious.

"Ahh-mmm," Bran mumbled, his ears turning a bit pink. "So," he said, trying to come to a point without saying the obvious, "Much here is going to check up on us while you're, ah, detained?"