Page 89 of Queen of Sherwood

I bit my lip, staring down at him, and he looked up at me from his knees.

“I won’t ask why I’m here,” Sutton said, frowning. “I am sure it is a misunderstanding, and if you release me now, I will pray for your souls and make sure nothing comes of this.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. He spoke softly enough to be a priest. Didn’t remind me of Abbot Emery whatsoever.

Surrounding me was Little John, Will Scarlet, and my brother Robert. A bevy of teary-eyed Merry Men were behind us a fair distance, putting Jamie and our comrades’ bodies to rest. We were still waiting on Alan-a-Dale to return from Ravenshead with his report.

One noticeable absence from our small crew in front of Sutton was Friar Tuck. He had locked himself away in his tent, and I hadn’t seen him in over an hour, since we’d returned from the battle.

I hoped I hadn’t lost him for good.

Shaking my head, I tried to think of the task at hand.

I was back in that carriage, surrounded by scared girls, drugged and lost, set to be traded on an illicit market for lecherous bastards across England and abroad.

Raped and beaten. Fighting for our lives.

Anger swelled inside me. The rage carried me forward a step. I said to Sutton, “There’s been no mistake.”

“Oh?” Sutton tilted his head. “What is it you think you have against me, dear woman?” His eyes moved to my left, to Little John. “Jonathan? I remember you from your jail cell in Nottingham. Did I not pay you respect? Treat you like a man worthy of life?”

“You did. We had good talks.” Little John grunted. “You also gave me my Last Rites with your sly tongue, Father. Unbeknownst to me.”

Deep grooves formed in the priest’s forehead. “I promise you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that so?” I snapped. “Did you know what you were talking about when you stood atop the gallows, ready to damn innocent men to Hell with nooses around their necks?”

“Innocent?” Sutton scoffed, shaking his head. “None of those men were innocent of crimes.”

“They were innocent of being Merry Men! You lied to the entire populace of Nottingham, to simply suit Sheriff George’s wishes. Meanwhile, George held Little John captive and . . . and . . .”

I cut myself off before I could expose John.

“Ah,” Sutton said after a beat. “Is that what this is about? Do you consider my Rites to damned men—men whose crimes and punishments I had nothing to do with—to be vile and wicked, Robin of Loxley?”

I gulped. “I . . . don’t know. We’re getting off track.”

“What do you mean, lass?”

“That’s not why you’re here, Bishop Sutton.”

The frown on his face deepened. “Then please, enlighten me. These ropes are digging into my bones, you know.”

“We’re not loosening the ropes, you squirrelly old man.”

Sutton chuckled to himself. “Aye, I suspected as much. For whatever reason, I’m your captive. I suppose I’ll get used to it, however long this lasts.”

“How does it feel, Sutton? To be a prisoner?”

His nose wrinkled. “What are you getting at, girl?”

“There have been horrible crimes lodged against you, Father, and we’re here to force the truth out of you.”

“The truth? About what?”

I let out a heavy sigh and glanced over at my mates and Robert. They all looked at me encouragingly, as if willing me to say the words I needed to say.

But my mind was addled. I was too tired for this conversation right now. There were Merry Men weeping and saying prayers right behind us, giving Jamie and the others burials.

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