The Queen Of Arrows

Chapter 18 - The Hideout

A storm of anger and recrimination raged across Nottinghamshire, and its thunder filled the hearts of all those with whom it came into contact. First, there was the Sheriff, who, lacking options, unloaded the blame for the sentry's failure and the thief's capture on his subordinates. Guy and the other captains were the victims of a half-hour rant that culminated in each of them taking the displeasure they were subjected to directly to his soldiers.

Those were harangued for the next few days, and training sessions were doubled. The penalties for violations were drastically increased. Those who did not want to end up in the dungeon themselves or receive whippings now better did not fall asleep during the guard shift - and God help the poor soul whom one of the commanding men would catch with a jug of alcohol. The little sleep and draconian punishments, coupled with the prohibition against drinking, caused the guards to become easily irritable and immensely unfriendly.

There were now an annoying number of guards in the corridors, and blacksmiths and locksmiths were called in to renew or improve locking devices. Some carpenters were replacing doors, and even in the stables, some men were now keeping watch at night. Castle De Burgh was on high alert. The men were frustrated and under the watchful eyes of their superiors - who in turn were under pressure from the Sheriff - every little misstep was reported. Men and women were questioned harshly, and Marian heard more than one maid cry because she had been accused of blabbing information about shifts in the guards or corridors and threatened with beatings or worse.

Marian's contempt for the Sheriff and his methods only grew with each complaining guard and each crying maid. They had knocked out the guards, tied them up neatly, and finally locked them up. Now, as punishment, they sat for several days in the very cell in which young Samuel had found himself. He was right about one thing: it couldn't go on like this.

But Marian had to talk to Robin about that. Besides, a distrustful part of her feared that this scoundrel might make off with the entire booty instead of giving her the promised share.But under the given circumstances, it was anything but easy to escape from the castle unnoticed. Attentive eyes were now lurking everywhere. Many were ready to deliver someone else to the knife.

It took almost a week before an opportunity to slip away finally presented itself. A storm the previous night had probably damaged the roof of a grain store in one of Nottingham's neighboring villages. Her father was busy with other matters, and so Marian generously offered to look at the damage.

On horseback, it was barely two hours from the small village to the spot on the edge of Sherwood Forest where Robin's most current shelter was located. At the site of the forest, which was sparsely populated, the forest had taken over a large portion of an abandoned farm. The grass stood tall and wild. Gently it swayed in the balmy summer breeze. New thickets had taken over the former farmland between the spurs of the trees.

Only little was left of the old homestead. The former barn had collapsed, and all that remained was a skeleton of rotted wood overgrown with ivy. The small farmhouse had also partially collapsed. Part of the roof was missing, and a large hole, like a yawning mouth, adorned the ridge from which the broken beams and shingles protruded like teeth. The long branches of the surrounding trees cast shadows over the ruins, shrouding them in dim twilight. Marian was overcome by an oppressive feeling at this eerie and abandoned sight.

A queasy feeling spread through her stomach as she ducked under the slanted door beam and slipped into the dim interior of the house. Immediately, the smell of rotten wood and thick dust hit her.

"Robin? It's me, Marian," she sent ahead, lest she perhaps fall victim to one of the super-fast arrows that were so quick off the thief's hand. "We need to talk!" she began, even as her eyes slowly adjusted to the new light conditions.

Her gaze tried to pierce the long shadows inside the house. A fallen table lay on its side; a pitiful stool had only two legs left. Where the third had gone, no dying soul could say. The fireplace had collapsed, and bricks lay scattered around the room. A few windows were partially smashed, some windows were boarded up, or the shutters were closed. A few of them hung so crookedly on their hinges that a bit of sunlight penetrated inside, allowing one to peek out as well.

'Surely he would have seen me coming?' thought Marian as her gaze roamed. Further back, some stones from the fireplace had been piled up to form a makeshift fireplace. But the fire was out, and no coals were glowing anymore. Immediately, the sinking feeling in her stomach grew worse. Her thoughts overflowed with dark apprehension.

Had Robin and the boy been caught? Or found the hiding place?'No. I would have known,' she hastily wiped those thoughts away. The Sheriff wouldn't have missed the opportunity to announce Robin's capture publicly. He would still have dragged him on a rope through villages and the castle courtyard to present him like a trophy.

'That can't be. He wouldn't have dared. He's not that audacious.'

Had Robin fled with the loot? Immediately, Marian took larger strides into the interior of the hideout. "Robin!" she called out louder and firmer now. The gloomy atmosphere in the castle, the confrontation with the Sheriff, and now this. Her nerves were frayed, and she hoped - for Robin's own good - that this wasn't some foolish prank of his!

"Robin of Locksley!" she hissed more irritably. "Come out and stop this nonsense. I'm not in the mood for jokes." Marian peered behind the table and focused on the two smaller rooms. In front of one, a large and stained sheet was hung, probably to keep the wind out. "This isn't funny! I fear the Sheriff is suspicious of me. And he threatened to report to the King if not-"

Marian stopped. The shutters were closed in the room, and the gaps were stuffed with moss. An old bed stood in the corner of the room, which had been somewhat tidied up compared to the rest of the courtyard. The piles of leaves had been swept away. On a small, crudely repaired table, there lay a lovely foreign bow and a quiver of arrows - both of which she immediately recognized as Robin's belongings.

However, she paid no attention to anything else in the room - because what demanded her focus was the bundle of blankets rolled up on the abandoned bed. Right next to it were several bottles, probably once filled with wine, as a reddish stain had spread next to one on the stone floor. Yet, it also smelled stronger - like spirits or something similar. Marian couldn't believe it!

Driven by burning anger, she strode forward to the bed.

"Are you serious? Did you really throw away the money for alcohol and then just lie around here drunk all these days?" Marian couldn't prevent her voice from growing louder with each word. She had been worried and barely slept these days due to the Sheriff's threat. And here he was, lying around and getting drunk?

"Damn it! You really haven't changed a bit!" Marian hissed, gripping his shoulder firmly and tugging at it. To her surprise, there was no resistance. Robin's body simply yielded and rolled to the side - and Marian caught her breath.