The Dragon of Throxenby, Part 9
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"Oi, Quenilda," Allan said as they walked. "You know your father's been looking for you for days now?"
"My father?" Quenilda echoed, her voice sounding brighter.
"Yeah, he's sent messengers all over the shire, even to us. Did you know that Robin and the Earl knew each other before the Crusades?"
"No," Quenilda replied. Guy wondered if the Earl had mentioned that fact to his older daughter, Isolda.
"All right, I mean, Robin said he only met the Earl once, years ago, but he knew his brother in the Holy Land before he got sent home with only one leg. Anyway, Robin promised the Earl's messenger that we wouldn't hurt you, and if we found you in the forest, we'd make sure you got safely to Nottingham. That's where he'll be staying."
"The messenger?" Quenilda asked, and Allan said, "No, the Earl."
"The Earl's coming to—?"
But instead of finishing her question, Quenilda gave a short, sharp cry, and Guy heard the rustle and thud of somebody falling onto old leaves.
"Sorry, didn't mean to let you trip," Allan said. "Here, I'll help you up."
Feeling the pull on his arm that meant Much had stopped walking, Guy stopped too, and waited for Quenilda to say something. After a moment of silence, Allan spoke again, and there was a slight element of uncertainty in his voice. "Quenilda? You all right?"
Much asked, "What's she doing?"
"Dunno," Allan replied. "Quenilda?"
"What's happened?" Guy demanded.
"She tripped and fell, but now she's just … lying there," Allan said.
"Did she hit her head?" Much asked. He sounded as worried as Guy felt. "Did she break her neck?"
"Nobody breaks their neck by tripping over a twig in the forest, Much!" Allan protested. "And she didn't hit her head. You can see she was starting to get up, I dunno why she just stopped like that. Oi! Quenilda!"
Then there was a slight sound of crackling leaves, and Guy heard Much suddenly inhale. The sound chilled him, and he tugged at the cord around his wrists, wanting to break them so that he could rip off his blindfold and see for himself what was happening with Quenilda.
"You all right now?" Allan asked, and to Guy's great relief, Quenilda finally answered. "Yes … yes, thank you."
"What was all that about, then?"
"I apologize if I kept you waiting," Quenilda said briskly, sounding exactly like the Earl. "I was just a little … shocked, that's all. Because I tripped."
"Oh, well, if that's all," Allan said, but he didn't sound convinced. "Come on, then, the camp's not going to get up and walk to us!"
It seemed that everybody except Guy had forgotten the question of the Earl himself coming to Nottingham, because they continued on in silence after that. The wind whipped at them from behind, and Guy clenched and un-clenched his hands continuously in an attempt to combat the cold. Then they changed direction so that the wind battered his left side, which wasn't much better. Eventually, however, after they'd made their way down a fairly steep slope, Much finally announced, "Well, here we are."
He let go of Guy, and Guy heard the jingle of the horse's bridle as Much secured the reins to something. At the same time, somebody approached him from in front and reached up to tug off his blindfold. It was Quenilda; she gave him a little smile, which Guy hardly noticed. He was looking beyond her at the outlaws' camp, which wasn't at all what he had expected. Instead of motley tents and rough lean-tos, he could see into a wooden structure that wasn't exactly a hut or a house, but something just as solid constructed up against the rockface of a small cliff.
"Robin," Much called. Having finished with the horse, he now grabbed Guy's arm again and pulled him inside the structure. "Robin, we've got Gisborne!"
Robin had been sitting close to a fire in the middle of the structure, fletching arrows by the look of it, but as soon as he saw Guy, he grabbed his bow from nearby and fitted one of the finished arrows to the string.
"You'd shoot me when I'm unarmed?" Guy taunted him. This was not how he'd imagined facing the outlaw again. "When my hands are tied behind my back?"
"Marian was unarmed!" Hood shouted, and jumped to his feet. His face contorted in pain and he almost lost his balance, but he hastily shifted his weight to his left foot and brought his bow into position again. A moment too late, Much stepped forward to help, but then, seeing that he wasn't needed, he fell back and turned to Guy.
"I'll untie you," he said threateningly, reaching over to Allan and plucking Guy's dagger from his belt. Then he moved behind Guy and sliced through the cord, freeing Guy's hands. Surveying the new situation, Guy pulled his arms around to the front, holding his hands up to emphasize his lack of weapons.
"And here! You're armed!" Much tried to give Guy the dagger, but Guy refused to take it and merely gave the outlaw a scathing glance before returning his attention to Hood. Hood was so close that he couldn't miss, and the arrow had more than enough force to go right through him. It would be a quick death, he realized, but the thought still frightened him. Not wanting to give Hood the satisfaction of seeing his fear, however, he attempted to appear nonchalant, even as Hood took closer aim.
"Don't kill him!" Quenilda said, coming a few steps around the fire and then stopping halfway between Guy and Hood. "Please, don't shoot him."
Hood didn't even look at her. "He deserves to die! He killed my wife!"
"It was an accident, and he hates himself for it," Quenilda stated.
"What do you know about it?" Hood demanded, his voice dripping both disbelief and contempt. For the first time, he turned to look at her. "Who are you, anyway?"
"My name is Quenilda," she said.
"Lady Quenilda of Throxenby," Allan said. "You know, the one the messenger was telling us about?"
"She said she was Gisborne's betrothed wife," Much scoffed.
"What?" Guy blurted out, hearing Hood speak exactly the same word at the same time. They both turned to look at Quenilda, who started to tremble under the scrutiny. Had it only been a lie of convenience? Guy watched her, and wondered.
"I didn't know who you were," she replied, her gaze taking in Much and Allan. Her voice was a little shaky, and she couldn't meet Guy's gaze. "And it was not so very far from the truth … once. Sir Guy rescued me from the dragon, and my father offered me to him in marriage."
"Doesn't your father know anything about Gisborne?" Hood demanded. "Don't you? Haven't you heard anything about what kind of man he is?"
Guy waited, anxious to hear what Quenilda would say about him, torn between his desire not to reveal his deepest feelings to the outlaws and yet wondering if doing just that would keep them from killing him.
"I heard him crying in his sleep," Quenilda explained. "I heard him crying for Lady Marian. He was in such pain! You don't have to punish him for what he's done, he's punishing himself enough already. Even if you kill him, you can't send him to a worse hell than the one he's made for himself! Don't you know, Robin Hood, why he came to Throxenby in the first place? It was because of how much he bitterly regrets what happened, because of how much pain he's suffering!"
As she spoke, Guy gazed at Quenilda, trying to see into her soul the way she had obviously seen into his. She'd said something similar to him earlier, when they'd both been in the wagon, and now here she was, saying it yet again, and sounding as though she were pleading his case before a court. It was almost frightening to think that she had looked so deeply and seen so much, yet hadn't run away screaming. She'd not only accepted him, but she'd also ridden out to try and prevent his death, and even now, she was still trying to save his life.
Quenilda continued, "Pain can make people violent –"
"I do not want to hear about Gisborne's pain!" Hood snapped, but then he looked away to his left, and even seemed about to lower his bow.
"You're in pain, too," Quenilda said. "Not just your heart – there's something wrong with your leg, isn't there?"
"Never mind about my leg!" Hood growled.
"I have both knowledge and herbs," Quenilda said, laying a hand on the bag at her waist. "I could help you … if you'd promise to let Sir Guy go."
Guy felt something stir inside his heart, a strange but pleasant combination of feelings that he knew would only be destroyed by others, and soon, if he didn't make the effort to strangle them himself. That effort, however, proved more difficult than he'd expected. He wanted to feel hope, he wanted to feel that somebody cared for him, he wanted to enjoy the fact that somebody – no, not just somebody, but specifically Quenilda – cared if he lived or died.
"Right," Hood scoffed. "You think I'm just going to let the man who murdered my wife walk free in exchange for a few leaves or a bit of bark?"
"I think you'll regret it sooner rather than later if you kill Sir Guy now," Quenilda said, and Hood grimaced, but before he could say anything, someone shouted, "Robin!" from outside the camp. Guy turned with the rest and saw a big, burly man jogging down the slope towards them. To judge by the staff he carried, which was taller than himself, it was the man they called Little John.
"Robin," he panted as he came into the camp. "Robin, there's a dragon!"
For a moment, there was a stunned silence, and then Allan laughed. "What?"
"A dragon?" Much repeated. "Here?"
"In Locksley," John confirmed. "It ate a girl. Kate."
"Kate?" Much echoed, suddenly stricken. "The daughter of Rebecca, the potter?"
"She was a maid. It ate her because she was a maid," Quenilda mused out loud, and Guy watched as John nodded, then gave Much's shoulder a silent, sympathetic squeeze. Guy remembered Allan's joke about women throwing themselves at the outlaws all the time, and wondered if it hadn't actually been the other way around, at least once.
"Too bad the Sheriff isn't a maid," Allan said. "The dragon won't be eating him, then."
Nobody smiled. John turned to Hood. "There's more. The dragon breathed fire on Locksley Manor. It was still burning when I left."
My house! Guy thought, but didn't dare to express his indignation out loud.
"They say that Aldith was inside," John said. "Tending to one of the guards. No chance for them to get out, any of them."
"It's following Sir Guy," Quenilda murmured in the same low voice. "It knows he killed the other dragon."
Guy gawped at her, along with the others, and watched her flush under their scrutiny as he asked, "How could it know that?"
"It ate the other dragon," Quenilda reported, "and then it knew. Do you remember how that other dragon bit you in the arm? It tasted you and now, somehow, this dragon knows how you taste, too. And – forgive me, Sir Guy – it knows how you smell. Your scent must be very strong in Locksley, to draw it there."
"If it's following Gisborne, if it can smell him, is it coming here?" Much asked, edging away from Guy and glancing fearfully to the opening. Guy looked as well, suddenly knowing exactly how a deer felt when the hounds were after it, and was not exactly relieved when there was no sign of anything swooping towards them. That only meant it would come later, and perhaps at a much worse time.
"Maybe it'll go to Nottingham next," Allan suggested weakly. "If Locksley stinks of Gisborne, then the castle will, too."
"How do you know all this?" Hood demanded.
"I—I have the second sight," Quenilda admitted in a small, embarrassed voice. "I saw it."
"You knew it was coming after Gisborne, and you didn't tell us?" Much cried. "Is that – is that your plan, to use Gisborne to lead it here, so it can eat us?"
"No," Quenilda said, but Much drew his sword as he continued to speak. "Burn our camp down? Eat our flesh, crunch our bones and suck the marrow from them—"
"No!" Quenilda protested again, sounding puzzled as though that possibility had never occurred to her. It hadn't occurred to Guy, either, though he found himself suddenly wishing it could be possible. But the outlaws weren't maids, not by any stretch of the imagination, and anyway, according to Quenilda, the dragon was looking for him. No doubt it wanted revenge on him, wanted a death for a death, just like Hood. He was damned whichever way he turned.
Much pointed his sword in Quenilda's direction, and she cried out, "I didn't know anything about the dragon until I tripped in the woods! That's when I had the dream, not before! And I didn't know what it meant, not until he came."
She indicated Little John with her eyes, then returned her glance to the tip of the sword, trembling visibly.
"Get out of our camp," Much said, jabbing his sword first at Quenilda and then at Guy. "Get out, both of you, and take your dragon with you!"
Guy turned to do exactly that, but Hood's arrow landed in the doorpost exactly at eye level, a mere foot in front of his nose, and Quenilda cried out. Shocked, Guy raised his hands again in surrender and turned back. Hood had already drawn a new arrow and set it to the string, but instead of shooting, he looked over at Quenilda. "What else do you know about the dragon?"
Quenilda was staring wide-eyed and frightened at the arrow quivering reproachfully in the doorpost. It took a while before she could drag her eyes away to look at Hood, and even longer before she finally said, "I don't – I don't know much that will help."
"Tell me."
"It burned the manor house because it expected Sir Guy to be there, and it was angry that he wasn't. It also flamed the keep in Throxenby for the same reason, but that didn't hurt anybody, because the keep is made of stone." Quenilda was silent for a moment, staring into the distance and seeing something else besides the camp. "I saw that it hatched … out of the body of the other dragon. It was inside an egg, inside the body, still alive, even though the mother dragon was dead. When it hatched, it ate everything; the eggshells, the body, even the bones."
"Dragon lay eggs?" Much asked. "Like ducks?"
Quenilda nodded, and Guy shuddered inwardly at the thought of an entire family of dragons flaming across the sky.
"So … this is a baby dragon?" Hood asked.
"Yes," Quenilda agreed reluctantly. "But they grow quickly. It must be almost as large as its dam now."
"And as dangerous?"
Quenilda's face expressed frustration over the fact that she just didn't know, and she said, "Yes. All dragons are dangerous."
"Did you see anything else?" Guy asked, willing her to say that she'd seen it being defeated, that it could be defeated, but hoping, also, that she wouldn't say that he had to be the one to defeat it.
"It wasn't in the forest," Quenilda remembered. "I don't think it can come down between the trees, its wingspan would be too big. It was in the open. Near a building of some kind, though."
"Could be anywhere," Allan said with a shrug.
"Well, if it can't land in the forest, it probably can't land inside Nottingham, either," Hood mused. "But if it's looking for Gisborne and doesn't find him, what's to stop it from setting the forest on fire – or any other town or village where Gisborne's ever set foot? I can't imagine the Sheriff letting everybody take shelter in the castle. This'll just mean more destruction, more innocent people getting killed. Right, everybody, get your weapons, let's go."
"Go?" asked Much. "Robin, you're not going anywhere. What about your leg, especially now that Aldith is dead? Quenilda said she had herbs, she said she could help. Look at you! You can hardly stand, let alone fight. You're not well! We – the rest of us – will go and you can stay here and let Quenilda take care of you."
"Lady Quenilda said she'd only help you if you let me go free," Guy broke in. "She won't help you if you're planning to tie me hand and foot and use me as bait for the dragon, then kill it while it's eating me."
Quenilda gasped, and Guy realized she'd never thought of that possibility. How could somebody who was so knowing in some ways be so trusting and so innocent in other ways?
"That actually sounds like a good plan to me," Much murmured.
"No, you can't do that!" Quenilda pleaded. "You can't – you must let Sir Guy at least have a fighting chance! He killed the other dragon – he can kill this one!"
"Can he?" Hood asked, and then quite suddenly, he lowered his bow and collapsed backwards onto the stool where he'd been sitting before. Much gasped in dismay, but when Guy started to lower his hands, he swivelled back and pointed his sword in Guy's direction. Little John moved to block the exit from the camp, raising his staff, and even Allan put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Yes," Quenilda stated. "He can. He will. And if he doesn't, then –"
"Then what?" Hood asked dully. "Then the dragon kills him?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hood?" Guy sneered.
"I'd like for my people to be safe," Hood said, sounding weary. "Tell me, Quenilda, if it does kill Gisborne, will it go away again after that? Go back to where it came from, and stop threatening us?"
Quenilda bit her lip, then shook her head. "No. It won't. It has to be killed. Sir Guy has already killed one dragon, he knows how to do it! I saw – I saw a flaming arrow fly towards it, and that's how Sir Guy brought the other one down, with fire."
Hood snorted mirthlessly. "Gisborne's such a terrible shot, he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn unless he was aiming at the house next to it."
"Well, I'll just aim for you, then, shall I, and kill the dragon by accident!" Guy snapped, and saw Allan grin.
"I was going to say, if the dragon kills Sir Guy, then you will have your revenge on him," Quenilda said quietly, bringing the bickering to an end. "But it won't."
"Please, Robin," Much urged. "Take her offer! I know you want revenge, but what good is killing Gisborne going to do if you get gangrene or blood poisoning in your leg and it kills you? I would want revenge for your death, but I cannot take revenge on gangrene!"
Hood smiled a little at his man's impassioned speech.
"Lady Quenilda's offer also means you don't shoot me in the back, either, after I've killed the dragon," Guy put in swiftly.
Sighing, Hood said, "All right. I'll put aside my thoughts of revenge, Gisborne, for one day, if you'll do the same. You've got until sundown to-morrow to kill the dragon, and after that, my men and I are free to shoot at you again. And the same goes for you trying to kill or capture us. In the meantime, I'll let Lady Quenilda look at my leg, then I'll take her to Nottingham myself. Have we got a deal?"
He extended one hand, and after a moment, because Quenilda was looking enthusiastically at him, Guy stepped forward to take it. "Deal."
They shook, then let go as soon as possible, and Hood, said, "Allan, have we got a spare sword for Gisborne? John, you can give him Djaq's old bow, too; he might just need it."
"I've got a sword, it's on the horse outside," Guy said, and Hood commanded, "Get it for him."
Allan darted towards the opening, while John turned towards one of the storage areas by the bunks, and Hood sighed again. "Allan, John, Much, I know this is asking a lot, especially since I can't be with you, but go with Gisborne and give him any help he needs. The sooner we get this dragon killed, the sooner we can get back to normal."
"You mean normal like revenge?" Guy asked, and Hood flashed his quick smile again. "Yeah, something like that."
Allan returned with Guy's sword belt and held it out. Taking it, Guy was reminded of the time when Allan had worked for him. Allan must have been reminded of it, too, because he lowered his eyes from Guy's gaze, a faintly embarrassed look on his face, and stepped back. Guy buckled the belt around his waist, then held his hand out to Much in silent entreaty for his dagger. It took Much a moment to realize what he wanted, and then he handed it over grudgingly. Little John had the same expression of disapproval as he extended a bow and a quiver of arrows. When Guy had secured them on his back, the man produced a length of cord and said simply, "Hands."
Guy sighed, but let him tie them together in front, while Much took the blindfold and tied it around his eyes from the back.
"We'll leave the horse for you, Robin," Much said, but if Hood answered with anything more than a nod, Guy didn't hear it.
"I will pray for your success, Sir Guy," Quenilda said, and Guy turned his head in her direction. "Thank you, my lady."
Then the outlaws guided him out of the camp and back into the cold, windy forest.
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Quenilda let her gaze linger on Sir Guy's back as he walked away. She'd been frightened before, recognizing the scene from her dream, but everything had turned out differently than she'd expected. She'd expected Robin Hood to shoot at some point, but that point had come as such a surprise, and had happened so quickly, that she wouldn't have been able to prevent him if she'd wanted to. Not to mention the fact that the arrow had gone by so close that its wind had rushed across the side of her face and ruffled her hair. Staring at it, she'd realized that if she'd moved at the right moment, it would have gone directly through her eye, and the thought had left her shivering with more than cold. Sir Guy had been shocked, too, she could tell, and she thanked God that Robin Hood had only shot as a warning, not to kill.
Well, there was no time to consider the matter further. She'd offered her assistance to the outlaw, and now that Sir Guy was safe, she had to do her duty. Turning to Robin Hood, she said, "It would be easier for me to look at your leg if you could lift it up. Do you have another stool, or perhaps you would like to lay down on one of these beds?"
Slowly, painfully, Robin stood up and hobbled over to the nearest bed. After he'd eased himself down onto it, Quenilda wrestled his boot from his foot and rolled up his trouser leg.
"What happened?" Quenilda asked as she probed the wound just below his knee. Somebody had had a rough go at stitching it up, and it didn't look good in any sense of the word.
"Can't you use your second sight to find out?" Robin asked through gritted teeth as she tested the surrounding tissue. His skin was hot, infection was setting in, and she suspected that only his determination was keeping him upright.
"A sword cut," she guessed. "While you were out … ambushing somebody?"
"In the castle, actually," he corrected her. "But yeah, a sword cut."
As she removed her supply of herbs from the bag and sorted them out on the bed next to him, he asked, "Did you know your father's been looking for you?"
"Your men mentioned it on the way," Quenilda said, picking out the things she needed and putting the rest back. "Did the messenger really say that the Earl was coming to Nottingham?"
"He should be there already," Robin replied. "Or by sundown at the latest."
"Well, then. Let's see what I can do to help you. I'm afraid I have no poppy juice to help you sleep through the pain, but I can give you something else."
"I wouldn't want to sleep anyway," Robin said. "I still have to get you back to your father. By the way, I met him once, before the Crusades. And I knew his brother Alfred, out in the Holy Land. He sailed for home before I did – do you know if he is still alive?"
"He is married now, and doing quite well," Quenilda said. "He and Aunt Maud have three children and another on the way in the new year."
"I didn't think he'd been home that long," Robin said, surprised, and Quenilda smiled again, but didn't answer. Once she'd overheard her father laughingly complaining that Alfred had it too good, spending all his time in bed, but she wasn't about to repeat that, especially not to an outlaw. It wasn't even true, anyway, as Uncle Alfred did get up as much as he could.
Eventually, she'd done all that she could do for the wound at that time. She'd also made an extra poultice for Robin to apply the next day, and a large batch of herbal drink to help fight pain, fever, and infection from inside the body. Watching as Robin finished his first dose of the drink, made a face, then collapsed back onto the bed, Quenilda said, "You should rest, let your body heal while you're asleep. If you'll just tell me the way to Nottingham, I'm sure I can find it on my own."
Robin propped himself up on one elbow. "And let you give that information to Gisborne? By all respect for your father, my lady, I don't think so. I'll trust you to give me a hand here, but I won't trust Gisborne not to wheedle the location of our camp out of you somehow."
Quenilda helped him stand and balance while he armed himself, not only with his famous bow and arrows, but also with a sword. Allowing him to lean on her shoulder, Quenilda also helped him hobble out of the camp and gave him a leg up onto the horse. He sat there for a moment with a pained expression on his face, gritting his teeth and breathing out very slowly, then reached down his hand. "Put your foot on mine and I'll pull you up behind me."
To do that, Quenilda had to hitch her skirts above her knees again, but unlike Allan, Robin didn't ogle her bare legs as she lifted her left foot and placed it in the stirrup on top of his. Then she took his hand and swung herself up onto the back of the horse, behind the saddle. Although she tried hard not to knock his injured leg, there was just barely enough space between it and the saddle bags for her own leg, and Robin grunted in discomfort as she settled in. When she was finished, he passed something back over his shoulder. "Put this on, then put your arms around me."
Once Quenilda had blindfolded herself, she leaned forward and clasped Robin around the middle, thinking how much Isolda would envy her this position. If she were honest with herself, however, she knew she'd much rather be clutching Sir Guy like this, especially when the horse took its first step and she lurched forwards, involuntarily tightening her grip. She remembered how Sir Guy hadn't turned away from her in the wagon, and how he'd looked at her after she had spoken to Robin about his pain and regret. He hadn't rejected her outright either time.
Now all Sir Guy had to do was slay this dragon and then, perhaps …
Part 10
"Oi, Quenilda," Allan said as they walked. "You know your father's been looking for you for days now?"
"My father?" Quenilda echoed, her voice sounding brighter.
"Yeah, he's sent messengers all over the shire, even to us. Did you know that Robin and the Earl knew each other before the Crusades?"
"No," Quenilda replied. Guy wondered if the Earl had mentioned that fact to his older daughter, Isolda.
"All right, I mean, Robin said he only met the Earl once, years ago, but he knew his brother in the Holy Land before he got sent home with only one leg. Anyway, Robin promised the Earl's messenger that we wouldn't hurt you, and if we found you in the forest, we'd make sure you got safely to Nottingham. That's where he'll be staying."
"The messenger?" Quenilda asked, and Allan said, "No, the Earl."
"The Earl's coming to—?"
But instead of finishing her question, Quenilda gave a short, sharp cry, and Guy heard the rustle and thud of somebody falling onto old leaves.
"Sorry, didn't mean to let you trip," Allan said. "Here, I'll help you up."
Feeling the pull on his arm that meant Much had stopped walking, Guy stopped too, and waited for Quenilda to say something. After a moment of silence, Allan spoke again, and there was a slight element of uncertainty in his voice. "Quenilda? You all right?"
Much asked, "What's she doing?"
"Dunno," Allan replied. "Quenilda?"
"What's happened?" Guy demanded.
"She tripped and fell, but now she's just … lying there," Allan said.
"Did she hit her head?" Much asked. He sounded as worried as Guy felt. "Did she break her neck?"
"Nobody breaks their neck by tripping over a twig in the forest, Much!" Allan protested. "And she didn't hit her head. You can see she was starting to get up, I dunno why she just stopped like that. Oi! Quenilda!"
Then there was a slight sound of crackling leaves, and Guy heard Much suddenly inhale. The sound chilled him, and he tugged at the cord around his wrists, wanting to break them so that he could rip off his blindfold and see for himself what was happening with Quenilda.
"You all right now?" Allan asked, and to Guy's great relief, Quenilda finally answered. "Yes … yes, thank you."
"What was all that about, then?"
"I apologize if I kept you waiting," Quenilda said briskly, sounding exactly like the Earl. "I was just a little … shocked, that's all. Because I tripped."
"Oh, well, if that's all," Allan said, but he didn't sound convinced. "Come on, then, the camp's not going to get up and walk to us!"
It seemed that everybody except Guy had forgotten the question of the Earl himself coming to Nottingham, because they continued on in silence after that. The wind whipped at them from behind, and Guy clenched and un-clenched his hands continuously in an attempt to combat the cold. Then they changed direction so that the wind battered his left side, which wasn't much better. Eventually, however, after they'd made their way down a fairly steep slope, Much finally announced, "Well, here we are."
He let go of Guy, and Guy heard the jingle of the horse's bridle as Much secured the reins to something. At the same time, somebody approached him from in front and reached up to tug off his blindfold. It was Quenilda; she gave him a little smile, which Guy hardly noticed. He was looking beyond her at the outlaws' camp, which wasn't at all what he had expected. Instead of motley tents and rough lean-tos, he could see into a wooden structure that wasn't exactly a hut or a house, but something just as solid constructed up against the rockface of a small cliff.
"Robin," Much called. Having finished with the horse, he now grabbed Guy's arm again and pulled him inside the structure. "Robin, we've got Gisborne!"
Robin had been sitting close to a fire in the middle of the structure, fletching arrows by the look of it, but as soon as he saw Guy, he grabbed his bow from nearby and fitted one of the finished arrows to the string.
"You'd shoot me when I'm unarmed?" Guy taunted him. This was not how he'd imagined facing the outlaw again. "When my hands are tied behind my back?"
"Marian was unarmed!" Hood shouted, and jumped to his feet. His face contorted in pain and he almost lost his balance, but he hastily shifted his weight to his left foot and brought his bow into position again. A moment too late, Much stepped forward to help, but then, seeing that he wasn't needed, he fell back and turned to Guy.
"I'll untie you," he said threateningly, reaching over to Allan and plucking Guy's dagger from his belt. Then he moved behind Guy and sliced through the cord, freeing Guy's hands. Surveying the new situation, Guy pulled his arms around to the front, holding his hands up to emphasize his lack of weapons.
"And here! You're armed!" Much tried to give Guy the dagger, but Guy refused to take it and merely gave the outlaw a scathing glance before returning his attention to Hood. Hood was so close that he couldn't miss, and the arrow had more than enough force to go right through him. It would be a quick death, he realized, but the thought still frightened him. Not wanting to give Hood the satisfaction of seeing his fear, however, he attempted to appear nonchalant, even as Hood took closer aim.
"Don't kill him!" Quenilda said, coming a few steps around the fire and then stopping halfway between Guy and Hood. "Please, don't shoot him."
Hood didn't even look at her. "He deserves to die! He killed my wife!"
"It was an accident, and he hates himself for it," Quenilda stated.
"What do you know about it?" Hood demanded, his voice dripping both disbelief and contempt. For the first time, he turned to look at her. "Who are you, anyway?"
"My name is Quenilda," she said.
"Lady Quenilda of Throxenby," Allan said. "You know, the one the messenger was telling us about?"
"She said she was Gisborne's betrothed wife," Much scoffed.
"What?" Guy blurted out, hearing Hood speak exactly the same word at the same time. They both turned to look at Quenilda, who started to tremble under the scrutiny. Had it only been a lie of convenience? Guy watched her, and wondered.
"I didn't know who you were," she replied, her gaze taking in Much and Allan. Her voice was a little shaky, and she couldn't meet Guy's gaze. "And it was not so very far from the truth … once. Sir Guy rescued me from the dragon, and my father offered me to him in marriage."
"Doesn't your father know anything about Gisborne?" Hood demanded. "Don't you? Haven't you heard anything about what kind of man he is?"
Guy waited, anxious to hear what Quenilda would say about him, torn between his desire not to reveal his deepest feelings to the outlaws and yet wondering if doing just that would keep them from killing him.
"I heard him crying in his sleep," Quenilda explained. "I heard him crying for Lady Marian. He was in such pain! You don't have to punish him for what he's done, he's punishing himself enough already. Even if you kill him, you can't send him to a worse hell than the one he's made for himself! Don't you know, Robin Hood, why he came to Throxenby in the first place? It was because of how much he bitterly regrets what happened, because of how much pain he's suffering!"
As she spoke, Guy gazed at Quenilda, trying to see into her soul the way she had obviously seen into his. She'd said something similar to him earlier, when they'd both been in the wagon, and now here she was, saying it yet again, and sounding as though she were pleading his case before a court. It was almost frightening to think that she had looked so deeply and seen so much, yet hadn't run away screaming. She'd not only accepted him, but she'd also ridden out to try and prevent his death, and even now, she was still trying to save his life.
Quenilda continued, "Pain can make people violent –"
"I do not want to hear about Gisborne's pain!" Hood snapped, but then he looked away to his left, and even seemed about to lower his bow.
"You're in pain, too," Quenilda said. "Not just your heart – there's something wrong with your leg, isn't there?"
"Never mind about my leg!" Hood growled.
"I have both knowledge and herbs," Quenilda said, laying a hand on the bag at her waist. "I could help you … if you'd promise to let Sir Guy go."
Guy felt something stir inside his heart, a strange but pleasant combination of feelings that he knew would only be destroyed by others, and soon, if he didn't make the effort to strangle them himself. That effort, however, proved more difficult than he'd expected. He wanted to feel hope, he wanted to feel that somebody cared for him, he wanted to enjoy the fact that somebody – no, not just somebody, but specifically Quenilda – cared if he lived or died.
"Right," Hood scoffed. "You think I'm just going to let the man who murdered my wife walk free in exchange for a few leaves or a bit of bark?"
"I think you'll regret it sooner rather than later if you kill Sir Guy now," Quenilda said, and Hood grimaced, but before he could say anything, someone shouted, "Robin!" from outside the camp. Guy turned with the rest and saw a big, burly man jogging down the slope towards them. To judge by the staff he carried, which was taller than himself, it was the man they called Little John.
"Robin," he panted as he came into the camp. "Robin, there's a dragon!"
For a moment, there was a stunned silence, and then Allan laughed. "What?"
"A dragon?" Much repeated. "Here?"
"In Locksley," John confirmed. "It ate a girl. Kate."
"Kate?" Much echoed, suddenly stricken. "The daughter of Rebecca, the potter?"
"She was a maid. It ate her because she was a maid," Quenilda mused out loud, and Guy watched as John nodded, then gave Much's shoulder a silent, sympathetic squeeze. Guy remembered Allan's joke about women throwing themselves at the outlaws all the time, and wondered if it hadn't actually been the other way around, at least once.
"Too bad the Sheriff isn't a maid," Allan said. "The dragon won't be eating him, then."
Nobody smiled. John turned to Hood. "There's more. The dragon breathed fire on Locksley Manor. It was still burning when I left."
My house! Guy thought, but didn't dare to express his indignation out loud.
"They say that Aldith was inside," John said. "Tending to one of the guards. No chance for them to get out, any of them."
"It's following Sir Guy," Quenilda murmured in the same low voice. "It knows he killed the other dragon."
Guy gawped at her, along with the others, and watched her flush under their scrutiny as he asked, "How could it know that?"
"It ate the other dragon," Quenilda reported, "and then it knew. Do you remember how that other dragon bit you in the arm? It tasted you and now, somehow, this dragon knows how you taste, too. And – forgive me, Sir Guy – it knows how you smell. Your scent must be very strong in Locksley, to draw it there."
"If it's following Gisborne, if it can smell him, is it coming here?" Much asked, edging away from Guy and glancing fearfully to the opening. Guy looked as well, suddenly knowing exactly how a deer felt when the hounds were after it, and was not exactly relieved when there was no sign of anything swooping towards them. That only meant it would come later, and perhaps at a much worse time.
"Maybe it'll go to Nottingham next," Allan suggested weakly. "If Locksley stinks of Gisborne, then the castle will, too."
"How do you know all this?" Hood demanded.
"I—I have the second sight," Quenilda admitted in a small, embarrassed voice. "I saw it."
"You knew it was coming after Gisborne, and you didn't tell us?" Much cried. "Is that – is that your plan, to use Gisborne to lead it here, so it can eat us?"
"No," Quenilda said, but Much drew his sword as he continued to speak. "Burn our camp down? Eat our flesh, crunch our bones and suck the marrow from them—"
"No!" Quenilda protested again, sounding puzzled as though that possibility had never occurred to her. It hadn't occurred to Guy, either, though he found himself suddenly wishing it could be possible. But the outlaws weren't maids, not by any stretch of the imagination, and anyway, according to Quenilda, the dragon was looking for him. No doubt it wanted revenge on him, wanted a death for a death, just like Hood. He was damned whichever way he turned.
Much pointed his sword in Quenilda's direction, and she cried out, "I didn't know anything about the dragon until I tripped in the woods! That's when I had the dream, not before! And I didn't know what it meant, not until he came."
She indicated Little John with her eyes, then returned her glance to the tip of the sword, trembling visibly.
"Get out of our camp," Much said, jabbing his sword first at Quenilda and then at Guy. "Get out, both of you, and take your dragon with you!"
Guy turned to do exactly that, but Hood's arrow landed in the doorpost exactly at eye level, a mere foot in front of his nose, and Quenilda cried out. Shocked, Guy raised his hands again in surrender and turned back. Hood had already drawn a new arrow and set it to the string, but instead of shooting, he looked over at Quenilda. "What else do you know about the dragon?"
Quenilda was staring wide-eyed and frightened at the arrow quivering reproachfully in the doorpost. It took a while before she could drag her eyes away to look at Hood, and even longer before she finally said, "I don't – I don't know much that will help."
"Tell me."
"It burned the manor house because it expected Sir Guy to be there, and it was angry that he wasn't. It also flamed the keep in Throxenby for the same reason, but that didn't hurt anybody, because the keep is made of stone." Quenilda was silent for a moment, staring into the distance and seeing something else besides the camp. "I saw that it hatched … out of the body of the other dragon. It was inside an egg, inside the body, still alive, even though the mother dragon was dead. When it hatched, it ate everything; the eggshells, the body, even the bones."
"Dragon lay eggs?" Much asked. "Like ducks?"
Quenilda nodded, and Guy shuddered inwardly at the thought of an entire family of dragons flaming across the sky.
"So … this is a baby dragon?" Hood asked.
"Yes," Quenilda agreed reluctantly. "But they grow quickly. It must be almost as large as its dam now."
"And as dangerous?"
Quenilda's face expressed frustration over the fact that she just didn't know, and she said, "Yes. All dragons are dangerous."
"Did you see anything else?" Guy asked, willing her to say that she'd seen it being defeated, that it could be defeated, but hoping, also, that she wouldn't say that he had to be the one to defeat it.
"It wasn't in the forest," Quenilda remembered. "I don't think it can come down between the trees, its wingspan would be too big. It was in the open. Near a building of some kind, though."
"Could be anywhere," Allan said with a shrug.
"Well, if it can't land in the forest, it probably can't land inside Nottingham, either," Hood mused. "But if it's looking for Gisborne and doesn't find him, what's to stop it from setting the forest on fire – or any other town or village where Gisborne's ever set foot? I can't imagine the Sheriff letting everybody take shelter in the castle. This'll just mean more destruction, more innocent people getting killed. Right, everybody, get your weapons, let's go."
"Go?" asked Much. "Robin, you're not going anywhere. What about your leg, especially now that Aldith is dead? Quenilda said she had herbs, she said she could help. Look at you! You can hardly stand, let alone fight. You're not well! We – the rest of us – will go and you can stay here and let Quenilda take care of you."
"Lady Quenilda said she'd only help you if you let me go free," Guy broke in. "She won't help you if you're planning to tie me hand and foot and use me as bait for the dragon, then kill it while it's eating me."
Quenilda gasped, and Guy realized she'd never thought of that possibility. How could somebody who was so knowing in some ways be so trusting and so innocent in other ways?
"That actually sounds like a good plan to me," Much murmured.
"No, you can't do that!" Quenilda pleaded. "You can't – you must let Sir Guy at least have a fighting chance! He killed the other dragon – he can kill this one!"
"Can he?" Hood asked, and then quite suddenly, he lowered his bow and collapsed backwards onto the stool where he'd been sitting before. Much gasped in dismay, but when Guy started to lower his hands, he swivelled back and pointed his sword in Guy's direction. Little John moved to block the exit from the camp, raising his staff, and even Allan put his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Yes," Quenilda stated. "He can. He will. And if he doesn't, then –"
"Then what?" Hood asked dully. "Then the dragon kills him?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hood?" Guy sneered.
"I'd like for my people to be safe," Hood said, sounding weary. "Tell me, Quenilda, if it does kill Gisborne, will it go away again after that? Go back to where it came from, and stop threatening us?"
Quenilda bit her lip, then shook her head. "No. It won't. It has to be killed. Sir Guy has already killed one dragon, he knows how to do it! I saw – I saw a flaming arrow fly towards it, and that's how Sir Guy brought the other one down, with fire."
Hood snorted mirthlessly. "Gisborne's such a terrible shot, he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn unless he was aiming at the house next to it."
"Well, I'll just aim for you, then, shall I, and kill the dragon by accident!" Guy snapped, and saw Allan grin.
"I was going to say, if the dragon kills Sir Guy, then you will have your revenge on him," Quenilda said quietly, bringing the bickering to an end. "But it won't."
"Please, Robin," Much urged. "Take her offer! I know you want revenge, but what good is killing Gisborne going to do if you get gangrene or blood poisoning in your leg and it kills you? I would want revenge for your death, but I cannot take revenge on gangrene!"
Hood smiled a little at his man's impassioned speech.
"Lady Quenilda's offer also means you don't shoot me in the back, either, after I've killed the dragon," Guy put in swiftly.
Sighing, Hood said, "All right. I'll put aside my thoughts of revenge, Gisborne, for one day, if you'll do the same. You've got until sundown to-morrow to kill the dragon, and after that, my men and I are free to shoot at you again. And the same goes for you trying to kill or capture us. In the meantime, I'll let Lady Quenilda look at my leg, then I'll take her to Nottingham myself. Have we got a deal?"
He extended one hand, and after a moment, because Quenilda was looking enthusiastically at him, Guy stepped forward to take it. "Deal."
They shook, then let go as soon as possible, and Hood, said, "Allan, have we got a spare sword for Gisborne? John, you can give him Djaq's old bow, too; he might just need it."
"I've got a sword, it's on the horse outside," Guy said, and Hood commanded, "Get it for him."
Allan darted towards the opening, while John turned towards one of the storage areas by the bunks, and Hood sighed again. "Allan, John, Much, I know this is asking a lot, especially since I can't be with you, but go with Gisborne and give him any help he needs. The sooner we get this dragon killed, the sooner we can get back to normal."
"You mean normal like revenge?" Guy asked, and Hood flashed his quick smile again. "Yeah, something like that."
Allan returned with Guy's sword belt and held it out. Taking it, Guy was reminded of the time when Allan had worked for him. Allan must have been reminded of it, too, because he lowered his eyes from Guy's gaze, a faintly embarrassed look on his face, and stepped back. Guy buckled the belt around his waist, then held his hand out to Much in silent entreaty for his dagger. It took Much a moment to realize what he wanted, and then he handed it over grudgingly. Little John had the same expression of disapproval as he extended a bow and a quiver of arrows. When Guy had secured them on his back, the man produced a length of cord and said simply, "Hands."
Guy sighed, but let him tie them together in front, while Much took the blindfold and tied it around his eyes from the back.
"We'll leave the horse for you, Robin," Much said, but if Hood answered with anything more than a nod, Guy didn't hear it.
"I will pray for your success, Sir Guy," Quenilda said, and Guy turned his head in her direction. "Thank you, my lady."
Then the outlaws guided him out of the camp and back into the cold, windy forest.
+++++
Quenilda let her gaze linger on Sir Guy's back as he walked away. She'd been frightened before, recognizing the scene from her dream, but everything had turned out differently than she'd expected. She'd expected Robin Hood to shoot at some point, but that point had come as such a surprise, and had happened so quickly, that she wouldn't have been able to prevent him if she'd wanted to. Not to mention the fact that the arrow had gone by so close that its wind had rushed across the side of her face and ruffled her hair. Staring at it, she'd realized that if she'd moved at the right moment, it would have gone directly through her eye, and the thought had left her shivering with more than cold. Sir Guy had been shocked, too, she could tell, and she thanked God that Robin Hood had only shot as a warning, not to kill.
Well, there was no time to consider the matter further. She'd offered her assistance to the outlaw, and now that Sir Guy was safe, she had to do her duty. Turning to Robin Hood, she said, "It would be easier for me to look at your leg if you could lift it up. Do you have another stool, or perhaps you would like to lay down on one of these beds?"
Slowly, painfully, Robin stood up and hobbled over to the nearest bed. After he'd eased himself down onto it, Quenilda wrestled his boot from his foot and rolled up his trouser leg.
"What happened?" Quenilda asked as she probed the wound just below his knee. Somebody had had a rough go at stitching it up, and it didn't look good in any sense of the word.
"Can't you use your second sight to find out?" Robin asked through gritted teeth as she tested the surrounding tissue. His skin was hot, infection was setting in, and she suspected that only his determination was keeping him upright.
"A sword cut," she guessed. "While you were out … ambushing somebody?"
"In the castle, actually," he corrected her. "But yeah, a sword cut."
As she removed her supply of herbs from the bag and sorted them out on the bed next to him, he asked, "Did you know your father's been looking for you?"
"Your men mentioned it on the way," Quenilda said, picking out the things she needed and putting the rest back. "Did the messenger really say that the Earl was coming to Nottingham?"
"He should be there already," Robin replied. "Or by sundown at the latest."
"Well, then. Let's see what I can do to help you. I'm afraid I have no poppy juice to help you sleep through the pain, but I can give you something else."
"I wouldn't want to sleep anyway," Robin said. "I still have to get you back to your father. By the way, I met him once, before the Crusades. And I knew his brother Alfred, out in the Holy Land. He sailed for home before I did – do you know if he is still alive?"
"He is married now, and doing quite well," Quenilda said. "He and Aunt Maud have three children and another on the way in the new year."
"I didn't think he'd been home that long," Robin said, surprised, and Quenilda smiled again, but didn't answer. Once she'd overheard her father laughingly complaining that Alfred had it too good, spending all his time in bed, but she wasn't about to repeat that, especially not to an outlaw. It wasn't even true, anyway, as Uncle Alfred did get up as much as he could.
Eventually, she'd done all that she could do for the wound at that time. She'd also made an extra poultice for Robin to apply the next day, and a large batch of herbal drink to help fight pain, fever, and infection from inside the body. Watching as Robin finished his first dose of the drink, made a face, then collapsed back onto the bed, Quenilda said, "You should rest, let your body heal while you're asleep. If you'll just tell me the way to Nottingham, I'm sure I can find it on my own."
Robin propped himself up on one elbow. "And let you give that information to Gisborne? By all respect for your father, my lady, I don't think so. I'll trust you to give me a hand here, but I won't trust Gisborne not to wheedle the location of our camp out of you somehow."
Quenilda helped him stand and balance while he armed himself, not only with his famous bow and arrows, but also with a sword. Allowing him to lean on her shoulder, Quenilda also helped him hobble out of the camp and gave him a leg up onto the horse. He sat there for a moment with a pained expression on his face, gritting his teeth and breathing out very slowly, then reached down his hand. "Put your foot on mine and I'll pull you up behind me."
To do that, Quenilda had to hitch her skirts above her knees again, but unlike Allan, Robin didn't ogle her bare legs as she lifted her left foot and placed it in the stirrup on top of his. Then she took his hand and swung herself up onto the back of the horse, behind the saddle. Although she tried hard not to knock his injured leg, there was just barely enough space between it and the saddle bags for her own leg, and Robin grunted in discomfort as she settled in. When she was finished, he passed something back over his shoulder. "Put this on, then put your arms around me."
Once Quenilda had blindfolded herself, she leaned forward and clasped Robin around the middle, thinking how much Isolda would envy her this position. If she were honest with herself, however, she knew she'd much rather be clutching Sir Guy like this, especially when the horse took its first step and she lurched forwards, involuntarily tightening her grip. She remembered how Sir Guy hadn't turned away from her in the wagon, and how he'd looked at her after she had spoken to Robin about his pain and regret. He hadn't rejected her outright either time.
Now all Sir Guy had to do was slay this dragon and then, perhaps …
Part 10