Page 18 of Queen of Sherwood

Robert cocked his head. “What is going on there?”

She shrugged. “No idea, sir—”

“Whatever it is doesn’t concern us,” a man behind her cut in, which was followed by half a dozen “ayes” of agreement.

“Daresay it don’t concern you lot, neither,” said another, jutting his chin at Robert.

There. That’s the response I expected.

The older lady Florence came to my brother’s defense. “Bellingham, hush your mouth. Sir Robert has been nothing but kind to us.”

Beside me, Little John muttered in a whisper, “Didn’t you tell me you and the Merry Men tried to be kind to the people here in my absence, too?”

I nodded, frowning. “Yes. They didn’t take to us, though.”

“Was it something Will did?”

“Oddly, no. It’s because of who we are, I think.”

John furrowed his brow, his handsome face flattening. “Robert leads a group of rebels and bandits also. What makes the Oak Boys different?”

“They’re not seen like us, John. That’s what I’ve been trying to explain. They’re tidier than the Merry Men. Have more women—”

“Maybe not now after we retrieved those poor souls from the slave carriage.”

“—and are more connected. Let’s face it, love: Robert has outshone both of us as a leader. Maybe I would do well to let him lead the alliance.”

John’s hand fell roughly on my shoulder. He spun me so fast I gasped, and tilted my chin with his thumb—melting my insides immediately with the roughness and concern of his touch. “Oh no, little hope. I’m not letting you go down this road again.”

“This road?”

“The one leading to self-pity and doubt. You tried that once already with me, thinking you weren’t worthy to lead the Merry Men over me. Look how you won their respect. You will do the same with the Oak Boys. If your brother didn’t also see it, he would not have agreed to step aside in your favor.”

Surprise made my eyes widen, and a sting of tears made me blink rapidly as I stared into his sincere, dark eyes. I supposed I should have expected such a thing from my giant: kindness, understanding, and sincerity wafted off him in waves, at all times. At least when it came to me. He was the ultimate companion, and I couldn’t have been more privileged and happier to have him on my side.

His heartfelt words made me want to climb him like a tree. Instead, I settled for going on my tiptoes and kissing him lightly on the lips, with a quick smile. “Thank you, John.”

He nodded firmly, forehead still creased with wrinkles. “Don’t forget who you are, lass. You’re Robin Hood . . . and he’s just Robert.”

Color came to my cheeks. I gave him a tiny smile. “It’s not a competition.”

“It is until you stop thinking of it like one. And until you do, just know that you have the support of me and the rest of the Merry Men. We will love you until you are strong enough to love yourself in the way you need to.”

I nodded decisively. “Understood.”

“Now then,” John said, clearing his throat loud enough that Robert and Tuck heard him and turned to face us. “Should we go see what all this commotion is about at William Elder’s estate?”

TWO TALL MEN STOOD near the foot of the gentle incline leading up to William Elder’s estate. They wore white mantles, white garb, and heavy armor. Red crosses marked every piece of their equipment—stamped on their shields, their chests, their cloaks.

I was looking at two Templar Knights, in the flesh. They looked terribly impressive.

Across from them, twenty paces away near the front door of the estate, stood Will Scarlet and two other Merry Men—the young man Griff, and the wily guttersnipe, Rosco. Will had his dark leather armor on, with a scar of hate marring his beautiful face. The other two ragtag Merry Men looked entirely overwhelmed, eyes darting from one Templar Knight to the other.

Behind the standoff on the Templar’s side was another huddle of Ravenshead commoners, whispering amongst themselves.

Robert, John, and I pushed through the crowd to get to the front, behind the knights. One of the knights—an older man with a bald head and gray beard, lifted a scroll in front of him.

The knight spoke with a booming voice, for all to hear. “This property and its land have been repossessed by the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon. I have the writ of ownership right here, young man.”

---