CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Oh, come on! It'll be fun! Just like old times!"
On Will Scarlet's second day in the outlaw camp, the impetuous gray fox implored his famous cousin and Little John to join him on a stakeout of the main road through Sherwood Forest. The bear, ladling out their morning meal from the cauldron that simmered over their cookfire, glanced up at the overcast morning sky. "I dunno, Will. Looks like we might be getting rain later on. This is the kind of dreary day that's best for staying close to home, in case we need to get under cover real quick... "
"Oh, a little rain never hurt anyone!" Will scoffed, and turned to Robin. "Whaddya say, Cuz? You told me yesterday you haven't made even a single trip to the main road since becoming an outlaw again - and that before I showed up, you and Fat Johnny here were just lazing about wondering what to do to while away the time. Well, here's something to keep us busy!"
"Hey," Little John protested, "I'm not fat! Just big boned!"
"You do make the prospect sound tempting, I'll give you that." Robin stroked at his chin as he pondered both his breakfast and Will's proposal. "Tell you what - if it hasn't started raining by the time we finish eating, we'll make that stroll. Little John, you can stay here if you want... "
"Naw. Who's gonna keep you two out of trouble if I stay behind? Besides, I'd get stuck with Tina and Kluck, and they'd probably set me to washing and mending. I'd rather get wet in the woods."
Bettina, taking her plate from Little John, shook her head. "Menfolk! Rather go trampin' about gettin' themselves dirty an' makin' more work for us than tend to what needs tendin'!"
Little John gave the otter laundress a playful peck on the cheek. "Aw, but we do love you, Tina... and not just for your launderly ways, although heavens know we'd be lost without them!"
"Then it's settled," Robin declared. "After breakfast, the three of us will go check out the road... although I don't anticipate any trouble, Little John. We're going just to observe, and see what there is to see. We'll not be doing any robbing today."
"Not even if a big, juicy nobles' coach comes along, laden with ill-gotten treasure just ripe for the plucking?" Will protested with obvious disappointment. "Cousin, you've gotten soft."
"Soft, perhaps," Robin chided. "But alive, and reasonably happy - and I plan on staying that way. No thievery today, Will... and I'll hold you to that!"
Will slumped in defeat. "Yes, boss."
Little John, serving himself last, looked up from his plate. "Guess it is a good thing I'll be going along, Rob. It'll take both of us to keep this feisty kit out of mischief!"
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"Something isn't right here."
Robin, hidden in the undergrowth along the road with Will and Little John at his side, sat watching the latest knot of travelers stamping by, unaware that they were under secret observation. This was the main thoroughfare that connected Nottingham and points north. Foot traffic was light this day, with fewer than a dozen small groups and solitary journeyers passing by this spot since the outlaws had set up their clandestine hideout around midday. Perhaps the misty, drizzly weather had kept some off the road. Robin's trio had brought along spare cloaks, which they spread over some shrubbery to provide them with a degree of shelter from the lazy raindrops. Still, they grew pretty damp as the afternoon wore on.
"What's bothering you, Rob?" Little John inquired, genuinely curious.
"You've seen the way some of these travelers have been acting," the archer fox said. "Looking around as if they're afraid they're in mortal danger, like they might be attacked at any moment... "
Will was quick to wave off his cousin's apprehension. "It's like I said earlier - they know you're back in Sherwood Forest, and they're afraid of being waylaid and relieved of their riches... and with good reason, I'd say. We won't always be just watching, like we are today."
"That remains to be seen," Robin replied. "But I still can't shake the feeling that something's amiss. One of the peasants who passed was Otto the blacksmith, and he knows I'd never rob him, yet he looked as anxious as any of the rest. This bears further investigation." He parted the dewey branches before him and crept out of their shelter.
"Where're you going?" Will asked.
"Well, to investigate further, of course. You two coming or not?"
Shadowing the roadside, the three of them struck out to the north. It only took a few minutes of damp walking for them to discover what was causing such consternation in Sherwood this day - and it certainly wasn't the weather.
The wolf lay on his back by the side of the road, in plain view to everyone who might pass by. His uniform was clearly that of a royal soldier and not one of the Sheriff's guards. Robin knelt to inspect the still form while Little John and Will stood back, wary for any danger.
"Looks like he's been here for at least a day, maybe two... and the knife's still in his throat," Robin assessed. "Right up to the hilt under the jaw. A clean, strong thrust, by the look of it. Whoever did this was a skilled and experienced killer."
"But, that's one of the king's soldiers," said Little John. "What would he be doing here alone?"
"Maybe he wasn't alone. And he's not just any ordinary soldier, either - this one bears the markings of a captain. But it gets stranger." Robin pointed to the dagger's hilt, then lifted the hem of the wolf's tunic to reveal the holder. "See? The designs on the hilt and the sheath match. This poor wretch was slain by his own knife."
"What the devil is going on here?" Little John wondered with creased brow.
"Do you suppose the Sheriff did this to make you look guilty?" Will asked Robin. "If he can spread word that you've taken to murder, he might be able to turn more townsfolk against you... "
"It makes no sense." Robin stood, scratching at his jaw. "There's already a huge price on my head from assaulting King John, so this wouldn't make me any more wanted than I already am. Besides which, we're well outside the area where the Sheriff usually operates, and I don't know if I'd credit him with enough wit to concoct such a scheme anyway. No, I don't think this has anything to do with the Sheriff."
"Maybe rival bandits?" Will proposed.
"Bandits would be out for loot. They wouldn't attack and kill an armed soldier who's likely not carrying any riches."
"Unless he was guarding someone else who did have loot," Little John suggested.
"Now there's an idea. But if this were part of some bigger altercation, there'd be signs... " At Robin's instructions, the three of them fanned out through the nearby woods, on both sides of the road, never straying beyond earshot of the others. A few minutes later they reconvened at the body.
"Not a thing, Rob," Little John reported. "No other corpses, no tracks, no abandoned carriage or empty chests or discarded clothes or anything like that. This guy's all alone."
Will shrugged. "For all we know, he could've been a bandit himself, disguised as one of the king's soldiers. Maybe he went and messed with the wrong crowd, and ended up getting himself killed."
"Or maybe he really is what he seems to be, and was deserting," Robin mused. "Those still loyal to King John wouldn't take such a thing lightly, and might not hesitate to kill a deserter. The simply truth is, we just don't know... but if this really does have anything to do with Nottingham, we'll leave it up to Alan-a-Dale and Friar Tuck to uncover it. Although... " The fox knelt and began rummaging through the dead wolf's pockets.
Little John looked on in alarm. "You're not gonna strip him, are you?"
"No! Don't be morbid! I'm just checking to see if he might have any dispatches or letters on him that would clear up the situation a bit." Robin turned out several small personal effects, but nothing to shed any light on this mystery. Respectfully, he replaced all the items.
"What're we gonna do with him?" Little John looked to Robin for guidance.
"No time for a proper burial, even if we had shovels. Let's just move him off the road and into the forest a bit, so that he's not scaring travelers anymore. That'll have to be his final resting place. We'll have to hurry just to get back to camp by dusk... and if there's someone lurking around Sherwood who can do this to an armed king's guard, I'd rather not be caught out here after nightfall."
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That same evening, the residents of Nottingham stared and gawked at the column of nineteen royal guards, headed by the grim-faced black panther, parading through their streets on the way to the castle. Among the onlookers were Friar Tuck and Alan-a-Dale, who monitored this detachment's arrival with great interest. The sentries at the main castle gate stepped back quickly to make way for Sir Guy to pass; one glance from those cold yellow eyes was enough warning that he was not to be trifled with.
The Sheriff and the Earl, notified in advance of these unexpected reinforcements by the walltop lookouts, stood in the courtyard outside the castle proper to receive their new guests. Many of the other nobles and staff had turned out as well, in spite of the inclement weather, curious and eager to see these strangers and hear what news they might have to bear. Gisbourne nodded to the Sheriff and favored the Earl with a half-bow, then passed his official orders to the white cat. "Sir Guy of Gisbourne, reporting at the king's pleasure. I am here to solve your Robin Hood problem."
While the Earl took Gisbourne's papers and read them over, the Sheriff nervously regarded the panther. So, the king had sent somebody else to see to Robin Hood. Was this formidable hunter also meant to be the executioner who would put the Sheriff's head on a pike, as John had threatened? Sir Guy didn't look all that fearsome, standing there at ease before the Earl. The Sheriff was sure he could take him on in a fair fight, if it came to that... although he hardly intended to keep things fair, not if his life hung in the balance.
Then the wolf's gaze shifted to the column of rain-sodden guards ranked behind Gisbourne. Something about their demeanor filled him with disquiet. Clearly, they were intimidated by their commander, and fear glimmered in more than one eye. These soldiers had marched all the way from London with Gisbourne, and they would have had a chance to see quite a bit of the black panther. What had they witnessed that could have cowed them so?
These were unusually perceptive and cogent observations for the normally dimwitted Sheriff, but the threat of decapitation had heightened his awareness to astonishing new levels.
The Earl skimmed over the royal orders a second time. "I... I'm not quite sure in what capacity you are here, Sir Guy. I see nothing mentioned in this dispatch that we are not already doing."
"Have you caught Robin Hood yet?"
"Uh, no... "
"Then I would say there is a great deal that you are not doing. I am here to rectify such matters. And you'll see that those orders grant me the authority to do whatever I deem necessary to achieve that particular goal. Now, if you would be so kind as to show me to some appropriate quarters."
"Er, yes, of course, of course. And what about your troops?"
"They are here to bolster your own. Deploy them as you see fit this night; after tomorrow, once I have had a chance to fully tour this castle and take proper measure of its defenses, I will assume that responsibility henceforth."
"That was very kind of His Majesty, but I assure you we have sufficient guards here already to make sure no one gets into Castle Nottingham."
"Oh, they are not here to keep intruders out, Earl. They are to keep possible traitors in."
"Traitors? I can assure you we have none of those here, Sir Guy!"
"Then you'll have no objections if I investigate the matter myself, will you? Perhaps that otter laundress who escaped after the attempt on the king's life was the only member of your staff helping Robin Hood... and perhaps not. I shall have to make this determination for myself. Needless to say, I will expect your full cooperation in this area - and if it is not forthcoming, then I shall demand it."
The Earl, not accustomed to having anyone other than the king himself address him in such a manner, wasn't sure how to respond. In a matter of moments, it seemed, Gisbourne had marched into Castle Nottingham and taken complete command of it for his own... and the dispatch he bore with him gave him every right to do just that.
That same dispatch was now being read by the Sheriff, who'd taken it from the Earl for his own perusal. Most of the more formal language was beyond his easy comprehension, but something about the uneven formation of Gisbourne's troop column nagged at him. He stood back and did a quick head count as those soldiers filed into the castle after Sir Guy and the Earl, then raced alongside them to catch up with the two felines, each so very different from the other.
"Hey, wait a minute!" the Sheriff said to Sir Guy. "It says 'ere you were travelin' with an even score o' troops, but I only count nineteen. What's goin' on here?"
"Well, that's a funny thing, now that you mention it," Gisbourne replied without breaking his stride. "When we were in the middle of Sherwood Forest, my captain inexplicably and without warning tried to kill me. The incident was most curious."
The Sheriff and the Earl both gaped at the panther, aghast that anybody could be so unflustered about relating such an event. "But... but where is he now?" the Sheriff asked.
"He's fertilizer," Gisbourne answered with calm menace. "You'll find I do not take kindly to assassination attempts... not on the king, or on myself. Now, Earl, I hope your kitchen staff have prepared something for dinner fit to satisfy a warrior's appetite. It has been a long march from London."