Chapter XXVI
Sherwood Forest, September 8th, 1194
"Let's stop. Soon it'll be too dark to go on", said the man who had introduced himself as Buckingham. He was clearly the leader, a tall and muscular man with icy grey eyes. "We set camp here."
"Small fires", one of the others admonished. His name was Spencer, a shorter, stockier man than his accomplice. "And have them into pits."
This way, the light of the flames would be shielded, making it difficult to detect them at a distance.
Rotherham, the third Black Knight, was leading Snowflake by the reins. He turned toward Violet.
"Dismount", he commanded her. Thinking that resistance was futile at the present time, Violet obeyed. As soon as she was off the saddle, Rotherham leaped down from his horse, then he seized the prisoner's arm and dragged her unkindly to a tree with enormous roots. "Sit down and don't move."
Again, Violet didn't resist and seated herself upon one of the roots. Rotherham remained close, keeping an eye on her, one hand on the hilt of his sword. The soldiers – a total of seven, two of them hadn't taken part in the ambush because they were guarding the road from and to Nottingham – began to busy themselves, digging two firepits, fetching firewood, tethering horses, unfolding bedrolls, taking out provisions from their saddlebags, carrying out their tasks with the typical military efficiency.
It didn't take long before the camp was ready. One of the man began preparing food.
Rotherham moved a step closer to Violet.
"And so, Gisborne married the sole heir of Nottingham", he commented. "An heir of whom nobody knew anything about."
Violet turned toward him, looking at him coolly.
"King Richard knew, and that's enough", she countered. Rotherham took another step forward and, bending down, he snatched her chin, forcing her to lift her face. She tried to withdraw, but the baron's grip became painful and she gave it up.
"Gisborne has truly won everything", Rotherham commented, looking at her closely in the fading daylight. "Not only the title of baron, but a very good-looking wife too. And moreover, you're a widow, so he hadn't even to go through the trouble of teaching you the way to please a man in bed…"
Violet used both her arms to knock away Rotherham's hand and glared at him.
"Someone should teach you some good manners!" she snarled, furious.
"Ho ho, what a fiery character!" he teased her. "I wonder what it would be like taming a mare like you…"
All colour drained from Violet's face at the thought of what Rotherham could do to her, but she clenched her teeth and kept a bellicose expression. She was actually very scared though.
The baron sneered evilly, then he took two steps back. Violet mentally sighed in relief, trying in every way to avoid giving him the satisfaction to see her frightened, and slowly calmed down.
Shortly after, a soldier came, one of those who had prepared food. He handed Rotherham a wooden bowl, then he gave one to the prisoner too. Violet peeped at the food – simple strips of dried meat and bread – with a certain degree of mistrust.
"If you're picky, lady, you deserve an empty stomach", Rotherham said sarcastically, chewing noisily at his bread. She glared at him. He had no idea what she had dealt with during her life. She bit into the strip of meat.
"I am a healer, sir", she retorted in a sardonic tone, eating open-mouthed on purpose. "I observed excrements, vomit, decay and every sort of mucus as they leaked out of human bodies of every age and cleanness degree, or lack of it. Do you really think that some rancid beef and stale bread could disgust me?"
She enjoyed the sickened face Rotherham made at her description. The Black Knight mumbled something unintelligible and moved away. She saw him placing down his bowl and go on walking until he disappeared among the trees. Apparently, he had lost his appetite, and maybe the images Violet's words had evoked in his mind had him disgusted to the point he had felt the need for fresh air. The young woman grinned inwardly, pleased with her small revenge on her kidnapper.
When she finished her frugal dinner, Violet placed her bowl down beside her. She was thirsty, but she had been ordered not to move and she didn't want in any way to draw her captors' wrath upon her, therefore she waited. Soon, the same armiger who had fetched her food came with a canteen and wordlessly handed it to her. Violet took it and drank, then she returned it and the man walked back to the fire, taking the empty bowl with him.
As she had nothing to do, Violet began watching the members of the group. The three noblemen carried fine swords and long hunting knives at their sides, while the armigers had more modest swords and daggers. A couple of them had bows, too, and Violet considered the possibility of getting hold of one, possibly during the night when the owners were sleeping. However, they would surely have sentries and she doubted she would be able to move without being seen. And besides, what could she do, alone against ten men? She could threaten to kill them, but she knew she wouldn't be capable of it, because she was a healer, she was supposed to save lives, not to take them... Anyway, she decided to keep an eye on the two archers. She alone could do nothing, but when Guy would arrive – and surely he wouldn't be alone – in the confusion of the fight that would ensue, she could seize a bow and incapacitate a few men by aiming at their arms and legs.
Later, Rotherham returned and tossed her a blanket that stank of horse sweat.
"Sleep", he ordered. "Don't try to run, there will always be at least two men on guard who will keep an eye on you." He gestured toward a sentry sitting a few yards away. "Anyway, for extra safety, I'm going to tie your hands", the baron concluded, showing her a coil of rope.
Determined not to give any satisfaction to her captor, Violet took the blanket without blinking an eye at the stench and rose, only to crouch down between two roots and pile up some dry leaves in order to create a sort of pillow. Then she stood up again, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, and stretched out her hands to Rotherham. His frown – which she could see in his wrinkled brow and thinned lips – gave clearly away his frustration. He was very disappointed for having failed in driving her into a whining heap, as one could expect from a spoilt noblewoman.
The Black Knight wrapped the rope around her wrists, tightening it firmly. Scarcely looking at him or at anyone else, Violet clutched the blanket and lay down, then she closed her eyes. A few moments later, she heard the sound of the baron's footsteps as he left.
Violet lay still. She doubted she would sleep, not much because of the discomfort of her rustic pallet, but because of the fear that Rotherham, during the night, would assault and force himself on her, as he had not very subtly threatened to do. The fact he was a nobleman didn't reassure her about his intentions. He was a Black Knight and, as such, he was an unscrupulous and disreputable individual. She clenched her fists. She had overcome the disgust and the fear that her former husband's behaviour had caused her only thanks to Guy's patience and love, and just now that she was learning how much pleasure and tenderness a woman can experience in a man's arms, she was risking to be raped. The terrible irony of it had a sob leaking from her throat, born from dismay and bitterness.
What would she do, if Rotherham would truly approach her to rape her? She wasn't as strong or trained as Rebelle was to try to defend herself, and anyway he could call his two accomplices to have them holding her or even tie her spread-eagled, so that the rapist could have his way with her. And then maybe after the first, the other two would follow, even the entire group.
The horror of that possibility almost overwhelmed her like a black tide, choking her. Stop it, she told herself, fighting the panic arising inside of her. It needn't to be that way. She had to cling to the thought that she would be well, that Rotherham wouldn't sink so low and abuse a noblewoman, that he had just wanted to frighten her in an attempt to subdue her. Surely, his and the other two barons' intent was to ensure Guy's silence about their membership of the sect that wanted to dethrone Richard in favour of John, and it wouldn't be a brilliant idea turning Guy against them by raping his wife. And Guy would come to her rescue, one way or other, of this she was absolutely certain.
She relaxed a little and soon afterwards, without knowing it, she fell asleep.
OOO
When it was too dark to discern the traces, Robin got off his horse and took two torches from his saddlebags. In preparation for a night-time chase, he had brought them in good number. He gave one to Little John, keeping the other for himself. After lighting them, they entrusted their horses to the other members of their group and continued on foot, so they could hold the torches close to the ground to see the trail. This way they would move slower than on horseback, but they were not forced to interrupt the hunt.
After about three hours, Robin turned to the rest of the group.
"The traces are fresher", he announced. "We're getting closer."
"How much?" Guy asked, unable to control the anxiety in his voice.
"Two hours, at most", Little John answered.
They went on. Despite Guy's apparent impatience – quite understandable – Robin preferred advancing slowly, paying close attention as not to miss, in the darkness, the signs of the passage of the group that had abducted Violet, even because they were moving carefully, leaving few and light traces that less expert trackers than he and Little John could easily overlook.
Eventually, in the small hours of the night, Robin signalled them to halt and get off the horses. When everybody had gathered around him, he spoke in a whisper. "We're very close. I'm going on reconnaissance to locate their precise whereabouts."
"I'm coming with you", said Guy. Robin nodded, as he was expecting it and thought it was useless trying to stop him.
"Keep your torches down", he recommended, giving his to Much. "And tie the horses. We need to get there on foot and in the dark."
He and Guy started walking among the trees. When they were far from the dim light of the two torches, they halted to get their eyes used to the almost complete blackness of the nightly forest, which required about twenty minutes. Guy could barely contain his anxiety, as he was awfully afraid for Violet. Had they hurt her? Had they beaten her, or tortured, or worse? He didn't know the three Black Knights well, but he thought them capable of anything, as they had come as far as to join the sect that Vaisey had led, and for this reason he felt a terrible anguish.
Eventually their nocturnal vision improved enough to move. Robin began advancing stealthily, making no sound like a ghost, proceeding slowly as not to risk stumbling over any invisible obstacle or bumping into some low branch. Guy copied him, reining in his impatience in favour of prudence, because making a noise could mean revealing themselves and jeopardise not only their safety, but Violet's too.
After moving with agonising slowness for a few minutes, Robin stopped suddenly, silently signalling Guy to do as much, then he pointed his finger to their right side. The baron looked in this direction and, just a few yards away, he discerned the reddish glow of a fire in a pit. No, there were two fires, the second one farther on, still to their right hand. Shadows darker than night lay between them.
They stared at the camp for long seconds, then Robin approached Guy and spoke softly into his ear. "Two sentinels, eight sleepers."
Guy nodded, as he too had counted ten people.
"Who may be Violet?" he whispered.
Robin shook his head.
"Impossible to determinate in the dark", he answered. "We have to wait for enough light to see and then we'll attack them. Let's go get the others."
Guy wanted to rush right into the middle of the camp and slaughter them all, but he realised that it would be foolish.
"Alright", he replied quietly.
Slowly as they had come, they withdrew from the enemy's camp. Robin retraced their steps with no hesitation and Guy felt impressed, because in this darkness he would certainly go lost. It was apparent that the ex-outlaw didn't brag at all when he had stated he knew the forest like the insides of his pockets.
OOO
"They've been away for far too long", Rebelle declared, agitated. "We must go looking for them!"
"No", Little John stopped her briskly. He ignored the warrior maiden's glare and went on. "Robin knows what he's doing."
"I agree", Much interjected.
Rebelle pulled a face.
"He always had an inclination to get into trouble", the reminded them. She loved Robin, but this didn't mean she didn't see his flaws.
"Not when the life of someone he loves is at stake", Allan countered. Rebelle was on the verge of replying gruffly, but then she realised the truth in Allan's words and her shoulders slouched.
"This wait is killing me", she sighed.
Drastan came up to her and brushed her arm in a reassuring gesture.
"Relax", he invited her. "You're beside yourself because of concern and I understand that, but we must be patient."
She looked at him gratefully, appreciating his support. She nodded.
Long minutes passed by. It was almost one hour since Guy and Robin had set out when they heard a voice. "Here we are."
Drastan whipped around with his sword drawn, Rebelle unsheathed hers halfway and Little John raised his quarterstaff, which was his favourite weapon and from which he never parted, while Much and Allan, slower that the others, put their hands to their swords. All this happened in an instant, before everyone was aware that the voice belonged to Robin He emerged from the shadows, keeping his arms well away from his body in a pose showing clearly he meant no threat. He knew well his men and Rebelle, knew they were capable of deadly promptness in reaction, and he got the idea that Drastan their equal, therefore he had decided to warn them before stepping into the small circle of light cast by the torches.
Guy appeared behind him.
"Thanks goodness you're back!" Much cried, relieved. "Did you find them?"
"Aye", Robin answered. "They're not far from here. Two sentries. I counted eight pallets, one of them mayhap Violet, but 'twas too dark to be sure."
"What are we going to do?" Drastan asked, turning to Guy. The sheriff rose his gaze to the sky they could discern among the tree branches and guessed the hour from the position of the stars.
"Dawn will come in half an hour", he said. "Let's go back to the camp and round them up. As soon as there's light enough, we attack them. Buckingham, Rotherham and Spencer will pay dearly for their misdeed."
"Do you want to kill them?" Drastan asked. There was no trace of disapproval in his tone, only a request for clarification.
"Aye", Guy answered through clenched teeth. "Otherwise, they'll always be a threat, for me and for the people I love."
"Not only", Robin intervened. "They're a threat to King Richard too. The lodge of the Black Knights doesn't exist anymore, but they can always form another one and plot once more against him."
"Precisely", Guy confirmed. Robin gazed at him, lifting an eyebrow.
"You agree with me, Gisborne? Now that's something new..."
Guy hurled him a black look, but Robin just shrugged. He had only meant to lighten the mood in his peculiar way and he didn't care if Gisborne had grasped it or not.
"Let's move", he said.
OOO
Violet woke up with a sudden start, as if someone had shaken her. She jumped up in a sitting position and looked around her, blinking in the uncertain light preceding dawn, but she didn't see anyone close to her. The only people awake, besides her, were the two sentinels – not the same as the previous evening – while the others were still asleep, lying wrapped in their blankets next to the remains of the fires.
She wrinkled her brow, wondering what had woken her up. She observed the trees, but dusk still lingered under their branches and she saw nothing. Everything was still, even the two sentries, who were seemingly dozing, but she sensed a kind of tension in the air that made her skin crawl. Slowly, she began moving towards the trunk of the tree under which she had slept, until she had her back against it, her eyes unceasingly searching the close proximity.
After a few moments, she heard the hiss of an arrow sailing in the air on her left side. The sentinel closest to her gave a shout and fell backwards, hit in one shoulder. The others awakened suddenly and in a moment, the entire camp was in turmoil. Violet shrank against the tree, trying to conceal herself, then a booming battle cry drew her attention. She saw Guy's tall, black-clad shape rushing in from under the trees, brandishing his two-handed broadsword. He leaped right in the middle of the men and wielded his weapon in a lethal arc that fully caught one of the soldiers, almost cutting him in half, and wounded another soldier in a leg. At the same time, from different directions other warriors appeared, and Violet recognised Rebelle, Drastan, Robin, Much, Allan, Little John and Ralf. Tears welled up in Violet's eyes as she realised that her friends had come to her rescue. She had never doubted it, but seeing them in action, risking their lives for her, moved her deeply.
The fight broke out furiously. The opponent forces were equal – as three of Violet's abductors had been already taken out – and therefore the melee turned almost immediately to single combats. With a roar, Little John hurled himself at the biggest soldier, whirling his quarterstaff; Ralf, Much, Allan and Rebelle engaged other soldiers; Guy found himself confronting Buckingham, while Drastan and Robin crossed blades respectively with Spencer and Rotherham.
Buckingham was almost as tall as Guy, and sturdier. He was a highly skilled swordsman and was giving his adversary a very hard time. Violet followed the duel with her heart in her mouth. She saw Guy dodging a diagonal sweep, then the blades collided with a metallic clang, so loud that it drowned out the noise of the other combats. A feral grimace distorted Guy's face, and his eye flashed with a deep but cold anger. Buckingham staggered backwards, but he recovered and attacked again.
Violet's eyes leaped for a moment to Rebelle, who was struggling with a clearly stronger opponent than her, but the warrior maiden was used to this kind of situation and she largely compensated her disadvantage with her exceptional nimbleness. She dodged most blows in order to weaken her antagonist and to throw him off balance, and then she would strike him as soon as she would catch an opening in his guard.
Violet got back to watch Guy duelling against Buckingham as their fight proceeded with no one having the upper hand. The Black Knight bled from a cut in the arm, probably a superficial wound as it didn't seem to cause him difficulties. After exchanging a few blows, Buckingham was able to get past Guy's guard and tried to hit his shoulder. Guy swerved to one side at the very last moment, but a cut appeared on his jacket. Violet brought her hands to her mouth to stifle a terrified scream. She saw Guy's expression turning even more resolute and he attacked again. Buckingham began to retreat in the face of his charge.
Slightly reassured, Violet decided that she couldn't just stand by. Even if she was unable to participate in the battle, she had to do something. First and foremost, she had to untie the rope around her wrists. She looked around for something to cut it. The sentry who had been hit first was still lying on the ground, dead or too badly wounded to move, and was just a few yards away.
Seeing her chance, Violet stood and discarded the blanked, then crouched as to not being noticed and quietly stole to the fallen soldier. His sword was laying next to him and Violet, keeping an eye on him in case he was conscious and tried to attack her, she grasped the hilt and withdrew, dragging the weapon with her. At a safe distance, she placed it back on the ground and began rubbing the rope tying her hands on the edge of the blade. She needed only a few seconds, but it felt like forever. Eventually her hands were free and she stood up quickly, her gaze turning again to the fight that was still raging. None of the combatants had fallen yet, but several on both sides were bleeding from different parts of their bodies.
For a moment, a feeling of frustrating impotence overwhelmed Violet, then her gaze fell on another weapon of the guard: his bow. Quickly, she snatched it up, seizing the quiver full of arrows along with it. She ran to a tree to seek cover, placed the quiver against the trunk, grabbed an arrow and nocked it into the bow, then she tried to bend the weapon. It was harder than the bow she was used to, better suited to a stronger person than her. The additional hardness would prevent her to maintain the aim for a long time, but she was enough experienced to aim before drawing the bow.
She turned to look at the fighters and she noticed at once that a few situations had changed: Ralf had overrun his adversary, but he had received a cut in his forearm that he was now dabbing with his neckerchief; Rebelle had worn out his opponent, who was now wearily staggering, and there was no doubt she would get rid of him soon; Much instead was in trouble, pressed by an especially skilled antagonist. Violet readied herself, raising the bow and stretching it until the nock brushed her cheek. She had already determined which point she would hit and therefore she had to keep the tension only for a few moments, the time she needed to wait for Much's adversary to move enough away from him to offer her a safe shot. She released the arrow and it struck exactly where she had aimed, the upper part of the arm holding the sword, a blow that wouldn't kill the soldier but would knock him out. The fighter screamed and reeled backwards, dropping his weapon and clutching his wounded arm, then he dropped to the ground.
M uch whipped around to see who had come to his aid and he spotted Violet, standing with a bow in her hand as she was already picking up another arrow to nock it to the string. He smiled at her gratefully.
Violet didn't notice it because she was busy searching for another target. She was surprised about her own cool head, because she had expected that consciously wounding a human being would make her feel remorse. Instead, at that moment she wasn't feeling anything but her impellent need to help her friends.
She saw Allan fighting like a lion against an adversary who was clearly stronger and more skilled than him. She raised the bow, preparing for another shot, but at that moment the soldier plunged his sword into Allan's thigh. Allan collapsed with a yell of pain. His opponent freed the blade and took a short step back, raising his sword again with both hands and preparing to strike a mortal blow. Violet fired. The arrow hit the hand placed on the lower part of the hilt, piercing it from side to side. The blow sent the soldier pivoting in a half circle, then he crashed down with a terrifying yell.
V iolet's healer instinct made her take a step towards Allan to go and provide him assistance, but then she saw Much running to him and therefore she quenched the impulse, turning again to the quiver. She took out a third arrow and nocked it to the string, on her face a determined expression hardening her usually soft features. She saw that Rebelle had tamed her adversary, who was now lying on the ground, if dead or only wounded Violet couldn't assess because of the distance. The warrior maiden looked around and, seeing that Ralf was injured, she headed for him.
Violet cast a glance to Little John who, judging from the way his antagonist was retreating, was successfully leading the improbable quarterstaff-against-sword duel. As she watched, the huge peasant lashed out a terrible thrust that caught his opponent's head. Despite the helm protecting him, the blow was such that the man collapsed instantly, surely dazed if not knocked out senseless.
Now, only the three Black Knights remained, still duelling with Guy, Drastan and Robin. A few moments later, Drastan ran his sword through Spencer's chest. The baron fell without a sound. One minute later, Robin took down Rotherham, slashing his throat with a horizontal cut of deadly precision, and the Black Knight dropped dead uttering a horrible gurgle.
Now only Guy was left, still engaged with Buckingham. Violet noted anguished that her husband was bleeding from a couple of superficial cuts, the one on his left shoulder and another on the upper part of his right arm. But the now only surviving Black Knight was worse, as his left arm was covered in blood and dangled from his shoulder, lifeless and useless because of an injury Guy had caused him. Buckingham was fighting with the despair of a trapped animal. With a dart in which he surely put all of his fading strength, he penetrated Guy's guard, inflicting him a blow in his side. The sheriff successfully dodged the strike, preventing the blade to sink into his flesh, but nonetheless Violet felt her heart skipping a beat. She grasped the bow harder and began raising it, determined to strike Buckingham – and not to injure him, but to kill him. She looked for a safe shot, but Guy had flung himself upon Buckingham and the two of them were now entangled, fighting furiously, as each one tried to disarm the other one. After endless moments of terrible tension, Violet saw Buckingham stumbling backwards. She stretched the bow, but then she noticed that a crimson stain was spreading on the Black Knight's chest and she withheld the shot. Buckingham stared at Guy with wide eyes, as if he couldn't believe at what was happening, then he collapsed without a sound.
It was over.
Guy took his eyes off Buckingham's cadaver and looked around, seeking his wife. Violet dropped both bow and arrow and rushed to him, lifting her skirt as to not stumble. Seeing her running to him, Guy dropped his weapon in turn and moved a few steps toward her before welcoming her into his arms.
Violet held him for dear life, trying to avoid his injuries, but he wrapped her into a tight embrace, heedless of his pain.
"My blossom..." he murmured, closing his eyes as he felt relief overwhelming him. They stayed entangled into one another's arms for long moments, then Guy withdrew.
"Are you well?" he asked, watching her closely. He didn't dare to formulate even the thought that they could have hurt her, beating her or worse.
Violet guessed his thoughts, which had been hers too.
"Aye, I'm well", she reassured him. "They treated me respectfully. Well, relatively speaking at least", she added and pulled a face, recalling the frugal dinner, the stinking blanket and the tied hands.
"Good for them", Guy growled. "If they had laid a finger on you... If they weren't already dead, I'd slaughter them again."
His fierceness didn't surprise Violet, because it was the same feeling she had had when she had seen Buckingham wounding Guy. For a moment, she had been ready to turn from healer to exterminator. But that moment was over and now Violet was herself again. She therefore remembered her husband's injuries and those of her friends.
"Let me have a look", she said in a peremptory tone that startled Guy. Quickly, Violet checked the cut on his shoulder, verifying its seriousness. It wasn't very deep, but it was bleeding and it had to be cleaned and bandaged. The other wound instead was luckily just a scratch and thus she ignored it for the time being. She took a step backwards and stooped over Buckingham's lifeless body, grasped the hem of his tunic and tried to rip off a strip, but it was too resistant. Therefore, she pulled his knife from his belt and used it to cut the cloth, then she ripped a piece from it and topped the wound on Guy's shoulder with it, a temporary solution that would last only the time she would need to check on the other wounded.
"Press firmly", she commanded. "And go sit down until I get back to you."
Guy wouldn't even dream to protest or contradict her, as it was absolutely clear that Violet knew exactly what she was doing and that, at that moment, she was the most suitable person to take control of the situation. He had to issue just one order before performing the one he had got from her.
"Drastan!" he called. His deputy rushed to him. "Look if there are survivors. In that case, if they're conscious tie them, then we'll see what to do with them."
Drastan nodded and moved away to carry out the task he had been appointed with. Rebelle followed him.
Seeing her moving, Much called Violet because Allan's injury was bleeding profusely and the young man was very pale. Violet hastened to them and examined the cut in the upper part of Allan's thigh. It was very deep and she felt concerned. She could stitch it up – a technique she preferred to the much more commonly practiced cauterisation, which she thought needlessly brutal and which she would use only in case there were not alternatives – but in the middle of the forest she wasn't equipped. Allan had to be carried to the castle as soon as possible.
"We must stop the bleeding", she said. "Take off a tunic from one of the cadavers, quick."
Much hurried to carry out her order with Little John's help. Violet ripped to strips a portion of the garment, using them to tie the rest as a compress over the wound.
"He cannot ride", she asserted. "You have to build a stretcher and fasten it to a horse."
"We'll take care of it", Robin offered, gesturing to Little John.
Violet then checked on Ralf too. Luckily, his injury was little more than a scratch and he had it promptly covered with his neckerchief.
"Much", she called. "Please, see if you can find a canteen with wine or even better with whisky."
As Much began looking for what she had requested, Violet returned to Guy. She verified his shoulder injury and observed relieved that the bleeding had almost ceased. When she received a flask of whisky, she used some of the spirit to wash the wound. Guy started at the burning sensation, but he clenched his teeth and didn't complain. After all, he had suffered worse things, such as the acid that had erased his tattoo. Eventually, Violet changed the compress and bandaged the injury, again using parts of Buckingham's tunic.
As she was treating the wound on his right arm, washing it with the whisky, Drastan came back and reported to Guy.
"Three survivors, all unconscious at present", he said in an unmistakably satisfied tone.
"I'll take care of them", Violet announced, raising after finishing with her husband. "Just sit there", she advised him, then she set off.
The first soldier she had hit using the bow was the most seriously injured, with the arrow planted into his arm. She broke the shaft, but she couldn't remove the head without a knife passed over a flame, so she simply made a bandage that would hold the shaft stump still, then someone else would take care of it.
The second soldier was easier to treat, because the arrow had pierced through his hand and the head was protruding from the palm. From the way his fingers were bent, Violet realised that a tendon had been damaged and therefore the soldier would be crippled for the rest of his life. She felt sorry, but at least he was alive. She broke the shaft and took away the arrow, then she dabbed the gash on the palm – much larger than the one on the back – washed the injury with the whisky and bandaged the hand.
The third survivor was Little John's adversary. Violet took off his helmet with the greatest carefulness and found a big bump on his brow, which she rubbed with the whisky. It would be reabsorbed in a matter of days and there was no need of serious medical care.
When she was done with the three injured soldiers, Violet returned to Ralf and washed his wound with the spirit, then she went to Allan and checked the cut in his leg. The bleeding had diminished, but it hadn't ceased.
"Is it very serious, lady?" the young man asked. His voice was firm, however his blue eyes betrayed the more than understandable fright he was feeling.
"Only if you won't be treated", Violet reassured him. "But I'll take care of it, don't you worry. Actually, I'm going to start right now. Give me your belt."
Allan complied, unbuckling his belt and giving it to her. Violet fastened it around his leg, in direction of his heart, and tightened it as a kind of tourniquet.
"Loose it each time you feel your foot tingle", she instructed him. "Then tighten it again."
The ex-thief nodded to show he had grasped her instructions. Violet rose and headed for Robin and Little John, who were fastening the stretcher to Allan's horse.
"We have to take Allan to Nottingham as soon as possible", Violet urged them.
"We're almost done", Robin reassured her. "I'm going to tell the others to get ready to start."
Meanwhile Drastan had returned to Guy.
"Well, have you made up your mind about what we should do with those people?" he asked, pointing to the three survivors.
"We're going to leave them here", the sheriff answered, having thought it through. "They'll bury the dead, or they'll carry them to Rotherham. They will say that they've been victims to an ambush. They can't surely declare they had abducted the Baroness of Nottingham and that her husband and her friends came to take her back and that in the fight they have been nearly all killed."
"I agree", Drastan nodded. "Should they try to make accusations, it'd be their word against four noblemen's: you, I, Locksley and Bonchurch."
It still felt weird to Guy counting Much among the nobles, but though his appointment was very recent and not yet ratified by the king, he looked at it as valid.
"Precisely", he said.
Robin approached them.
"We're good to go", he announced.
"Fine", Guy said, starting to rise. Drastan moved at once to help him and Robin did likewise. Guy cast him a glance, surprised by his concern, and the Earl of Huntingdon shrugged, as much surprised as the sheriff was.
A few minutes later, everyone was up on their horses, except Allan who had been placed on the stretcher. Violet took position beside him to keep an eye on him along the way to Nottingham, which would take several hours. Guy, reluctant to be too far from his wife, came right after her, leaving to Robin the task to lead the group, while Drastan and Rebelle made the rearguard. At Robin's signal, the small procession started, abandoning dead and wounded to their fate.