Grant What I Wish

Grant What I Wish - Chapter 3. The Game Begins

Chapter 3. The Game Begins

Nottingham
1194

Be melting snow,
Wash yourself of yourself.
—Rumi

The cavalcade of horsemen proceeded down the wooded path at a brisk pace. Perched behind an outcropping of rock, Robin and Much watched their progress. Both recognized the colors and banner pronouncing the allegiance of these men to Prince John.

"I don't like this," Much muttered. "There are too many soldiers guarding those supply wagons-it is too large a procession for us to ambush."

"Relax, Much," Robin murmured in a soothing voice. "I have no plan to ambush them-I'm just doing a bit of reconnaissance." He grinned lazily, and his compatriot returned a reluctant smile before both returned their attention to the scene unfolding below them on the road that wended its way through Sherwood toward Nottingham.

Life had been relatively quiet lately, Robin thought, as the Sheriff continued to struggle in his attempts to raise the taxes imposed by the prince. Vasey had tried several different ploys of late to coerce the money from the peasants and nobles of Nottingham, but Robin and his followers had been able to thwart his every move.

Robin suspected that Prince John's patience-of which he had very little, venal, petty man that he was-would soon wear thin, and that he would come charging to Nottingham any day now to deal with the situation personally. Robin relished the thought of tangling with Prince John. Royalty he may be, but Richard's youngest brother was a pale, puny imitation of the Lionheart, and did not deserve to wear the crown of England, let alone usurp it.

As that moment, the procession halted, and Robin heard a familiar voice ring out. He cocked his head, thinking his ears were playing tricks on him. It was impossible-his adversary had been trussed like a pheasant and dragged to London weeks before to explain the Sheriff's inability to collect the taxes demanded by the crown. It seemed impossible that the prince had not let his fury and vengeance rain down upon that particular head.

Robin peered over the rock and felt his heart sink. "He is returned," he whispered grimly, and Much nodded once in cold understanding. Gisbourne had come back to Nottingham. Robin smiled grimly. The two of them still had a score to settle, and he guessed Gisbourne would not rest until he found him and faced off with him once more. Robin studied his enemy. He was much better dressed since Robin last saw him-he had a richly ornamented tunic of black leather and cloth, with silver trappings. He wore his customary leather breeches, and looked tired and hard.

Robin and Much remained motionless until the procession of soldiers continued along the road and disappeared in the distance. Even then, they sat immobile until the sounds of horses' hooves were heard no more. As they began to climb down from their perch, Robin stayed his companion with a swift movement of his arm. Someone was galloping along the road, followed by two men on horseback. The first rider stopped and swung off the horse, slapping the horse's rump to urge it on its journey as a decoy for those in pursuit. Robin peered around the edge of the outcropping and espied a dark-haired woman in a fine gown and cloak; the cloak was pinned at her throat with a large, ornate brooch.

For a moment, Robin's heart leapt in astonished joy-it was Marian! But, no, Marian was dead-and, upon second glance, this woman, while lovely, did not possess Marian's rare beauty. He thought wistfully of Marian's creamy skin, the liquid brilliance of her eyes, and the silken texture of her hair. She was a sweet armful, although she could be stubborn and shrewish when she felt she was not being taken seriously. When he had asked her to marry him, he had likened her to his bow-something that was dear to him and served him well. He was certain once she was his wife, she would be content to fill the role of help mate rather than warrior, spy, or rebel. He had never felt comfortable with her roaming the countryside, playing at Night Watchman, and was relieved that she had set the role aside after the injury she had sustained at Gisbourne's hands. Gisbourne, he thought as his anger mounted. Because of him, Robin would never make Marian his wife, or take her to the marriage bed. Gisbourne had destroyed his dreams. His fist clenched around the hilt of his sword as regret and fury tore through him once more.