Page 124 of Queen of Sherwood

“I agree, too,” I said. “We have to imagine George is sending scouts in every direction from Ravenshead. They’ll be popping up all over Sherwood, in all the villages Marian pointed out. Hell, they could already be in our ranks as we speak. Not every villager will be willing to keep our hideout a secret. Not when their own lives are at risk. And all it takes is one to give us up.”

It was grim tidings, yet true. No one could deny it.

“Which is why,” Marian spoke up, “we must act preemptively. Get ahead of the bastard, before we’re surrounded by Sir Montford and his horsemen. At that point, it’ll be too late, and we’ll all be dead in the water.”

I gave her an impressed pout, saying, “What are you implying, Marian?”

“I’m not implying anything, Robin. I’m saying we must kill Sheriff George before his army can swell.”

My jaw flexed. “Cut the head off the snake . . .”

“And the body will follow.” Marian smirked at me.

I couldn’t help but smirk back at her.

“It’s a risky gambit,” Robert said. “Like, utterly-insane risky.” He paused. Then: “I love it.”

They smiled at each other, mischievous as a couple of rogues.

I shook my head, snorting. God above. Maybe they’re perfect for each other. Good for you, Rob. You’ve found your whelp-giver.

I scratched my forehead. “So, erm, what’s the plan, then? If George is staying in Ravenshead, as we imagine he is, then our best time to strike is . . . now. Is it not?”

As I looked around the tent, everyone slowly nodded.

Uncle Gregory said, “I can’t find fault with it. And I’m nothing if not a fault-finder for a poor battle strategy. The way I see it, we have our backs against the wall. A precise strike may be the only thing that wins us the war. We don’t have the numbers for many prolonged battles.”

“I think we’ve only got one in us, old man,” Robert said, clapping our uncle on the shoulder.

“Aye,” Little John grunted. “Our people are too untrained, too uncoordinated, and we haven’t enough time to get them where we need them to be.”

“What are you saying, John?” I asked.

“I’m saying, little hope, in order to cut down on potential casualties, we need to make this a well-coordinated attack from a tight group. Small numbers. We must rely on stealth and quick maneuvers to win this.”

Friar Tuck threw up his arms. “For the tactician of the group, that sounds incredibly vague and, offense intended, like a fucking death sentence.”

“Have you any better ideas, Tuck?”

Marian said, “John isn’t wrong. I know how Sheriff George will set himself up, if I know George at all.”

“And do you?” I asked. “Know George at all?”

Her smile turned cruel when directed at me. “Sir Guy may have catapulted me into my station in Nottingham, but it was George who held out the initial olive branch. I wouldn’t have been able to take your family estate without Sheriff George’s go-ahead. He relished the idea.”

I pouted. Good to know. “Very well,” I said, gesturing down at the map with a sweeping hand. “Where would you suggest we go in?”

She drummed her fingers on the map, bending over, narrowing her eyes. After a moment, she tapped a specific spot near the southern edge of Ravenshead. “Here, given all the entrances and exits to the village. It’s situated closest to Nottingham—a straight southern shot—should anything go wrong for him. It provides an area where he can easily put his tail between his legs and run. I know these hills well. If his army camps at the base of them”—she jabbed the spot again, harder this time—“this is where the Sheriff’s command tent will be.”

There was a unified holding of breath after Marian finished her spiel. I looked left to right, to all my mates, my uncle, my brother. Asking for their assistance, because this was too big of a decision for one person to make. Too much at stake. Our very survival was at stake.

“I can’t say I disagree,” Will Scarlet said at last. He let out a huff. “I know Ravenshead better than anyone here, little thorn. I was reared there. I know every tree, lake, and hillock surrounding that village. The area Marian points to provides solid cover from a north, east, or west attack, especially if George keeps his regiment in front of him. Behind him, well, he wouldn’t want to choke the supply line from Nottingham, or stuff the access point with too many campsites or fires. He’ll need a large meadow or pasture for the Templar steeds to graze and sleep. The southern base of this hill provides it. It also gives him a good visual in every direction, being on top of the hill. There are a few thick wooded areas we could use to our advantage nearby but, generally, they’re a deterrent for any fast-moving invaders. Which would include us.” He finished his report with a long sigh, then a shrug directed at me. “It’s as solid a campsite as any for the leader of a military operation. Especially one as finicky and frightened as Sir George is.”

To hear Will confident gave me everything I needed. I looked to my mates: first Alan, then Tuck, then John. I wanted their opinions.

None of them said a thing. They gave me small nods. Tuck was the slowest of all, because he was the most cautious. Alan nodded because it seemed like the right thing to do. John, well, he seemed the most assured.

“If you go, we go, Robin,” he said.

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