Page 3 of Queen of Sherwood

I couldn’t fault him for it, even if it made me sad to see Tuck angrier and less civil than I was used to seeing.

With the Merry Men, he was the soul of our people. The heart that kept us beating, at times, with his wise words. After perhaps Alan-a-Dale and some of the innocent younglings, he was the best of us.

Luckily, the conversation stopped there, because we arrived at the Oak Boys’ camp shortly after. The sprawling meadow where it sat had trees lined along the riverside. The tents and structures looked much the same as last time: lived-in, orderly, efficient. Women worked at the riverbank in a row, while men chopped wood and set fires going for evening supper. Groups were huddled around campfires, starting the nightly chores, just as the sun was beginning to set in the distance.

Robert and Uncle Gregory stood in the center of camp. I smiled when I saw them approaching me.

I rushed up to Gregory and gave him a hug, and then my brother. Meanwhile, I noticed some of the villagers giving Friar Tuck deep bows and nods of respect.

Turns out these people have missed God more than Briggs realized, looks like. That was something I hadn’t noticed the first time here: the decided lack of religiosity among their midst.

I assumed the neglect of piety or devoutness among the Oak Boys—which the Merry Men did not lack—had something to do with Robert’s grim time in the Crusade, where God was forefront on everyone’s mind and the last thing to be thought about before dying in the trenches on a nameless battlefield.

Robert caught my attention with a hand on my arm, “Took you a few months, sister, but I’m glad you’ve returned.”

I nodded to him, and kept my eyes on Uncle Gregory even longer. It was always nice seeing my kind uncle, who had only ever worked hard to make sure his niece and nephew succeeded in life, where our parents had failed.

“I’m glad to be back,” I said with a firm nod. “We have a lot to discuss.”

“Aye, of course. Have you convinced the Merry Men of what we set out to do together?”

I nodded again. “That’s why I’m here, brother.”

“Yet I only see three of you? I had heard you carried a household of men around you at all times.”

My cheeks flushed pink as I turned away and glanced at John and Tuck, who were still making introductions to members of camp, away from us. Tuck had met the round, white-haired woman Bess, who commanded the cookery like a general of war. They seemed to be hitting it off quite swimmingly.

“That’s two of them,” I told Robert. “The other two remained at camp to make sure things stay tidy while we’re gone.”

“Smart.”

Uncle Gregory stepped forward with a soft chuckle, running a hand through his long gray beard. “Were you a man, dear niece, people would call you the luckiest one in England.”

I shot him a roguish smile. “Oh, Uncle, that fact still holds true.” I leveled my gaze on John’s massive frame and Tuck’s familiar, enjoyable body. “I am the luckiest person in England, man or otherwise.”

“Noted, my dear.” Gregory bowed low.

My smile vanished. I locked eyes with Robert. “Now then, brother. Are we ready to forge this alliance? You two might be my only blood relatives left alive, but I’m ready to add new members to my family. I hope you are, too.”

Chapter 2

Robin

Isat in the largest tent in the Oak Boy’s camp, located directly in the center. Next to me were Tuck and John. Across the war table from us sat Robert, Gregory, and Briggs.

With everyone looking awkward, I opened my mouth to speak.

Robert held his hand up, first. “Hold. We’re waiting for one more.”

I furrowed my brow. “Who?”

As if on cue, the flap to the tent opened, and in waddled Bess. The large elderly woman held a tray of mugs on it, and I wondered if she was acting as our handmaid for the evening of discussions. She wore an apron down her dress that was dirtied with handprints.

“There she is,” Robert said, dispelling my belief that Bess was simply acting as our servant—an idea that dismayed me.

Bess set down the tray on the table and took her seat across from me, offering me a kind smile. “Apologies, boys and ma’am. Some dirty whelps wanted second servings before I closed up shop.”

Robert snorted playfully. “Was it Albert and his ilk?”

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