CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A slight overcast filtered moon and stars through a gauzy curtain, casting the countryside in a shifting shadowscape of dark and darker. It was a perfect night for a little clandestine banditry.
Robin and Little John came upon the old Locksley estate through the woods, keeping to the deeper gloom of the trees. The bear carried a bulging haversack over his shoulder; before coming here the two outlaws had paid a quick visit to Little John's cottage. They'd found the place ransacked for its stocks of honey, and all the other food was gone too, but much else remained in the way of clothes and other useful items, all of which had found its way into the former homeowner's burlap sack.
"Guess there weren't any nobles who took my size," Little John mused as he found his wardrobe virtually undisturbed from how he'd last left it.
Robin, meanwhile, had stopped by his bear friend's flower gardens. Many of the varieties growing there were summer bloomers, so even though springtime was nearly at its end, the fox was still able to assemble an impressive bouquet of striking shapes, sizes and hues ... although he had to mostly guess at the last, since it was hard to make out colors in the darkness.
"At least I don't have to worry about the bees," Robin said to himself, casting a thankful glance toward the sleeping hives toward the rear of the property.
Even though King John had declared Little John's cottage and grounds to be royal property, no guards had been posted to watch over it. It seemed that once the honey and other food and drink had been cleared out, little value had been attached to the modest domicile. Certainly no noble would have deigned to dwell in such peasant-style accommodations, even ones scaled to a bear's large size, and the valuable hives in the back yard weren't going anywhere. It was like the place had been pillaged and discarded, with the arrogant expectation that its honey wealth would always be there for the taking.
Robin hoped they'd find that similar imperious negligence had been directed toward his own former country home, but he doubted they would be quite so lucky.
Under cover of darkness and moving silently as a pair of furry, mismatched phantoms, the two outlaws stole over the low stone wall of Robin's yard, bypassing the gate whose squeaky hinges might betray their presence. They also kept to the lawns, forsaking the pebbly path that might shift noisily under their tread. Their stealth got them to the front door, upon which was plastered the same royal poster that had also adorned Little John's portal, declaring this the property of king and crown. No guards were in sight keeping watch over the grounds, and no light shone from any of the windows, but Robin took nothing for granted. Holding their silence, they crept around the side of the house into the back yard.
Another poster was displayed on the back door, but Robin ignored it for the moment, walking to his wife's grave and kneeling at the mound, now fuzzy green with new grass. Digging out a small hole with his paw, he inserted the bouquet he'd assembled at Little John's into the raised patch of earth and tamped the stems into place. It was hard to tell in the darkness how fine a job he'd made of this token gesture, but he knew Marian would understand if it wasn't perfect.
Little John set his heavily-laden haversack down next to the back doorstep, and stood ready with his quarterstaff while Robin carefully tested the door. Finding it locked, he fished his lock-picking tools out of his shirt and set to work. A locked door could mean guards were inside, so the fox went about his business with all the finesse he could manage. After a few minutes' tinkering, his sharp ears and sensitive paws finally detected the satisfying clicks that told him he'd succeeded.
Robin slowly pushed open the door, which obeyed without a single squeak - the main reason he'd chosen this egress. Drawing his sword, he proceeded step by meticulous step down the short back hall and into the reading room. He could more feel than hear Little John bringing up his rear as they ventured further into the house. Robin's superb night vision revealed no enemy presence, but then, with no lights lit and no fires in the hearths, it made sense that any guards stationed here would be snuggled in their beds ...
In Robin's beds. The thought made his blood boil, but he suppressed his anger. For now, he had to check those beds, and do so without stirring up more of a force than the two of them could handle.
The first bedchamber they checked was Bettina's. Creeping right up to the bedside, Robin could make out a form slumbering beneath the covers, too large to be a child or female. Straining to see through the darkness, he also made out a discarded uniform tunic tossed carelessly over the otter laundress's chair, and a sheathed sword and bow with quiver leaning against the foot of the bed. Clearly this was no friend or ally.
Robin lightly touched Little John on the arm, wordlessly signaling his companion. Then, as one, they fell upon the recumbent figure, the bear throwing himself across the guard's body to both pin him and drive the breath out of him while Robin went for the head, clapping a paw over their victim's mouth to keep him from crying out.
Within moments they had the guard - who, sure enough, turned out to be one of the Sheriff's wolves - bound and gagged on the floor, stuffing a pillowcase into his mouth to muzzle him and binding wrists and ankles with his own belts. Satisfied that he'd cause them no further trouble, the two outlaws moved on.
They found another guard enjoying the comforts of Lady Kluck's old bed, and trussed him up in a similar fashion. Florence's room turned out to be unoccupied, the larger guards apparently foregoing the smaller squirrel's bed. Lastly, and with more than a little trepidation, they headed upstairs to see what the master bedroom held. Much to Robin's relief, no intruders were to be found there. Perhaps the idea of sleeping in the bed of the vixen murdered by their treachery was too much for them, and they'd steered clear of it. Whatever the reason, Robin found himself heaving a grateful sigh.
A quick sweep of the rest of the house revealed no further guards; it seemed that King John and the Sheriff had seen fit to assign only a pair of soldiers to safeguard this property, and perhaps Sir Guy had not given the matter any thought at all, his own concerns directed more toward the immediate vicinity of Nottingham. Thus ensured that they could work unopposed, Robin and Little John set about what they'd come to do.
Lighting a couple of small candles whose dim flickering would not draw attention through the windows, the two outlaws started their survey in the kitchen. The bear scowled at what they found - or rather, what they failed to find.
"Picked clean!" he complained as he poked through the pantry. "Just like my place - only worse, 'cos you had a lot more here to start with."
"The way you eat? I'm not so sure about that. I think you may have kept your larders every bit a full as mine ever were. But you're right: It looks like the Sheriff's been through here and pilfered my entire stock of food. There's barely enough left here to keep those two guards fed!"
"Unless they're the ones who ate it all," Little John speculated.
"Maybe the simpler fare, my friend, but you can be sure King John had all the tastier treats delivered right to the castle the moment he claimed my estate for his own. No matter. A little extra food would have been nice, but that's not the main thing we came here for. Come on, let's get to work. I want to be well clear of here by the dawn."
Fortunately, the modest riches they had come to plunder were still to be had in abundance. Clothing. Linens. Bedspreads. Bolts and sheets of uncut cloth. Curtains and drapes. Carpeting and rugs. And, of course, a bevy of tools from Robin's workshop and gardening shed. In short, anything that Kluck might be able to fashion into clothing or tenting material with her seamstress's skill, or that the mole Trammler could find useful in helping to construct shelters at their camp.
"I'm surprised this is all still here," Little John remarked. "I'd've thought they'd strip this place to the bare walls and floors."
"Remember, King John probably had it in mind to bequeath my stolen estate to some noble who supported him. It makes sense he would have kept things more or less intact. I'm just glad the new tenants haven't moved in yet. I have no problem tying up two soldiers, but a noble's wife and children and servants would have been an entirely different matter."
At one point in their labors, they came across the trunk Robin and Marian had planned to take with them to London. The wheeled case had been moved back upstairs to the master bedroom, and had not even been unpacked; again, qualms over disturbing the dead vixen's belongings may have stayed any plundering paws.
Robin stood regarding it for several long moments, then grabbed it by its handles and wrestled it toward the door. "Nice of them to keep this packed for us. Makes our job here that much easier!"
Along with the packed trunk, Robin and Little John cleared out all the closets and wardrobes and dressers, not discriminating between garments for male and female. Klucky, Tina and Florence had been forced to leave many of their own clothes behind, and these went too. Nothing wrought of fabric was to be left behind.
Little John paused as he was removing several of Marian's more luxurious gowns and dresses. "Uh, Rob, are you sure you want to take these?"
"My beloved certainly doesn't need them anymore, and that one gown you're holding now can be made into two or three children's outfits. I'm sure Marian would be gladdened to know they're being put to good use."
They wheeled a large gardening cart around to the front door and began piling everything into it, starting with the tools and the wheeled travel trunk and then adding on the loose clothes and other items. Soon the cart was heaped nearly as high as Little John's head, with curtains and rugs spilling over the sides.
"Well, that about does it," Robin declared. "I don't think we'd be able to take anymore, even if there were any left for the taking."
"Yup. A good night's work, if I do say so myself. Gonna hafta be careful wheeling this through Sherwood, though; one good jostle will send half of it onto the ground."
"That's why I'll follow along with your haversack while you pull the cart. I'll let you know if anything falls off."
"Good thinking. What about those guards?"
"They can stay where they are until someone finds them, or they manage to free themselves. I'm sure Sir Guy will be most eager to hear their report!"
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The sun was above the horizon by the time Robin and Little John approached their forest camp with their heavily-laden cart. They'd stuck to the more obvious paths, since there was no way they could steer their wheeled carrier through thickets and underbrush, but the possibility of pursuit troubled them little; striking Robin's former dwelling in the dead of night as they had, they were well into the dense woods long before dawn began to tinge the sky. For all they knew, it might take hours or even days for the two guards to be discovered or work free from their bonds, and by then Robin hoped to have moved on to his next episode of thievery.
However, they were not to go as unchallenged as they'd anticipated. Drawing near the final stretch of trail leading to the waterfall entrance, an elfin sprite's voice rang out, "Who goes there, friend or foe?"
Robin stepped in front of Little John, stroking his chin as he scanned the bushes for the source of their unseen sentry, but not even his trained woodfox's eye could make out any figure amongst the shrubbery. "Well," he called out to the invisible guard, "I suppose that depends on who's asking, doesn't it?"
"Ummm ... " Amidst a rustle of leaves, one of Skippy's brothers stepped out onto the path before the two outlaws. "I didn't think of that, Mr. Robin Hood sir ... "
Robin strode past the youth, playfully tousling the lad's headfur with his free paw. "Oh, don't worry, that was still very good for your first time out. You'll get better with practice, I'm sure. Good to know we've got such vigilant eyes and ears keeping guard over our highways and byways!"
Prompted by such praise, two more rabbit boys emerged from the bushes to join the first. "Thank you, sir!" they chipperly chimed in.
"We're surrounded!" Little John quipped.
"Just a friendly escort," Robin said. "Who will now, I trust, escort us right back to camp, and help summon some willing paws to get all our ill-gotten gains moved up past the waterfall."
"We're on it!" the first rabbit assured his outlaw protector with a salute, and then all three brothers raced off toward the camp, leaving the fox and bear to themselves once more.
"Well," said Little John, "at least we know Skippy's taking this whole forest patrol thing seriously, having his brothers out here so early in the morning."
"I suspect that's more Will's doing," Robin speculated, "with some input from Friar Tuck and Alan-a-Dale and the others. I'm sure none of them relish the idea of being taken unawares by a squad of Gisbourne's troops. I just hope our young scouts would be a little more discreet about declaring their presence if a column of soldiers came marching along the path toward them. They're out here to warn us about enemies, not friends!"