Page 11 of Queen of Sherwood

I slanted my head, then nearly got vertigo from trying to watch the blurring road in front of me from that angle, and righted myself.

“I wonder if that means the Sheriff is too occupied with all of that to hone in on us,” I said.

“It could.” Robert shrugged. He rode his steed like Alan-a-Dale, elegant and straight-backed. I was envious, because I was still white-knuckling the reins even hours after leaving his camp.

“My network tells me soldiers have taken up residence in many small towns and villages in Sherwood Forest. The soldiers are tucked away, not on the roads. Some of them are there to avoid being sent to Jerusalem, no doubt—”

“Recruitment opportunities into our ranks?” I blurted.

“—while others are likely celebrating the victory at Acre. I’ve even heard and seen evidence of the Knights Templar making their way to our woods.”

“Fucking hell,” Tuck groaned. “The Templars? That’s not good for anyone.”

“Nay, it’s not, friar.”

My head swiveled between them—left to right. “Why not? Are the Knights Templar bad?”

“They’re grandiose, self-important shock troops that are too overzealous for their own good,” Robert growled. Clearly, he had experience with these knights, and it wasn’t a good one. “Amazing warriors, but generally awful people.”

I’d heard of the Knights Templar, of course, though I’d never met one. It seemed to be quite a generalization on my brother’s part, yet I wasn’t going to argue with something I knew nothing about.

“Awful because . . . they fight for God?”

“Robin,” my brother began, and I knew a lecture was coming by his tone. “The Knights Templar fight for God in the same way I fight for Mama Joan. It sounds admirable in theory, but in practice? It’s bullshit. They’re one of the wealthiest organizations in the land. Wherever they go, they’re treated like royalty. They can cross borders freely, and they aren’t even taxed.”

“Fuck.”

“Yes. Fuck.”

Little John said, “Untaxed, noble assholes? I’m an admirer already.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“The problem is, unlike most groveling shit-heels in the army, these men can actually fight. They’re one of the most preeminent fighting forces in all Christendom. And because of their free-borders policy, their allegiance to the pope and no other king, they can get away with anything. It’s common for them to set headquarters in visiting countries, nab farmland from honest folk, and call it their own.”

I shook my head. “Jesus Christ. And they’re just allowed to do this because . . .”

“You just said it, sister: Jesus Christ.”

Silence fell over us, with the thudding din of heavy hooves filling my ears. This was unfortunate news. I knew the Knights Templar had positions in England, though I’d never run across one, so I figured they were nonentities.

“Now with the Siege of Acre complete,” Robert finished, “I fear the Templars likely will cozy up to the lords of England and set down roots. They already have in the three temples they’ve built in London, Lincolnshire, and Essex. With them throwing their weight around, I worry they’ll present a problem moving forward.”

“Or an opportunity . . .” I muttered, mostly to myself. Honestly—and I knew it sounded brash—these knights sounded like the perfect targets for our exploits.

“If we have to fight these men, we are in trouble,” Little John pointed out. “When I served in King Henry’s army, they were not as much of a factor. The Crusade has bolstered their forces and importance.”

“Aye,” Robert said. “If Sheriff George brokers an alliance with them . . . the Merry Oak People might be fucked before our alliance even gets off the ground.”

The color drained from my face, and I felt suddenly cold. I couldn’t let outsiders ruin our chance to bring down the Sheriff of Nottingham. Surely, if they were men of God, rather than soldiers of fortune, they would recognize the tyranny that George represented among the commonfolk?

Seconds later, I shook my head, letting out a grunt.

I couldn’t be naïve. Not these days. That Robin was gone. If these warriors truly ran such strong businesses with the blessing of the pope, with bullying practices, then they were nothing but bad news.

“I’m assuming Pope Clement’s recent death doesn’t make things easier for us,” John drawled.

“Nay, Little John,” Robert said. “Clement ran a tight ship. With the new pope, Celestine the Third, everything is up in the air. The Knights Templar, the Knights Hospitallers . . . they’re in flux. Which doesn’t bode well for anyone as they try to fortify their positions.”

I bit my lip. “Then I suppose we have to hope we never come across them . . . and that Sheriff George never manages to recruit the Soldiers of God to his side.”

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