Everything is a Choice

Chapter 24

Previously...

A green dress, lacing at the front. Surely it can't be. I go to take a closer look and my breath catches in my throat.

Marian kept many dresses in the castle, maybe more than she kept at Knighton. She would not have known she would never return to reclaim them.

I press my face into the silky fabric, but all I can smell is lavender. Her perfume, just like her whispered words, is gone.

Nessa lightly touches my arm. "Do you want to talk, lad?"

I shake my head, manage to say, "No, I should be going." I stride out of the house without looking back.

Nessa, Rowena, Much — they are all there for me. And I do want to talk. Except of the people I want to talk to most, one no longer lives, and the other I had sent away.

Chapter 24

I turn around at the sound of someone approaching, lower my nocked bow when I see it's only Allan. Sweat beads his brow, as though he's been running far and fast and I have a sudden fear that Prince John's men are back already and attacking Locksley.

"Is everything all right?" I ask.

"I could ask you the same thing." He bends over to catch his breath, hands on his upper thighs for support. "We've been looking for you for ages. Much was convinced you'd thrown yourself in Locksley pond. He was talking about diving in and searching for you until he remembered he can't swim."

"I was visiting my peasants."

"And your peasants just happen to live in the middle of a field, do they?"  Allan indicates the freshly turned earth, the striped furrows stretching in front and behind me.

"Locksley is my home," I say. "We've been travelling for months to get here and now, in the space of two days, we are leaving. You've never lived in one place for a long time. You wouldn't understand."

"I understand that Prince John's not going to invite us to his next banquet unless we happen to be the main course. I thought we were going to Sherwood, Robin. At this rate, we'll be lucky to make the camp before nightfall."

I look at the sky. Allan is right. We should have got moving ages ago. Instead, I am standing in the middle of a field fretting over a dress. "I'm sorry. I lost track of time."

"Are you all right?" he asks. "Is it Rowena? I don't want to pry or nothing, but have you two had words or something?"

"No. Nothing like that. It's fine. We're fine." I shoulder my bow. My fingers are still buttery from Nessa's fruit bread.

Allan scratches his head and then his nose. He toes a clod of earth until it hits another clod and then crushes them with his booted foot.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Nah, it's nothing. Only..."

"Only what? Come on, Allan. Speak your piece."

"I would, only the last time I did that I got a ruddy great smack for it."

I recall our punch up on the boat: fists and insults flying, a broken jug, me on the floor with a bloody nose.

"Whatever it is, I won't hit you. I promise."

Despite my assurance I won't put a fist in his face, Allan steps back a pace.

"Thing is, you told us you were going to use Gisborne as a spy and then, as soon as we got back to England, you sent him away. I'm not saying that it wouldn't have been a bit...well, weird, him being on our side, but after yesterday I would have thought we could use all the help we can get."