Page 9 of Queen of Sherwood

Chapter 3

Robin

Istood in the tent Robert had lent me, which I’d been expecting and hoping to sleep in tonight. Alas, trouble waited for no one.

Quickly strapping on my bow, my quiver of arrows, and the belt around my waist that held my sword, I spun around and marched outside—nearly running into Robert as he approached my tent.

My brother was dressed for battle, a sword strapped around his waist, too, with a bow on his back.

My brow crinkled. “What are you doing?”

“Coming with you.”

With a lurch, I asked, “To Ravenshead? Why? Your people are here.”

“Your people are my people now, sister. We’re a team. And I’d like to see how you handle . . . trouble.”

I rolled my eyes and breezed past him. “I don’t need a guard dog, Robert, and I don’t need to be coddled.”

He hurried to keep up. “No, I suppose you don’t. I’m still coming.”

My eyes moved to a nearby fire, where Uncle Gregory sat alone, staring into the licking flames as if contemplating his entire life.

“Uncle doesn’t want to come?”

Robert scoffed, seeing where I was looking. “That old man? He’d be the first to admit he’d only slow us down.”

I shouldered my brother, but couldn’t hide my smile. “Little John and Friar Tuck would take offense to that. They’re older than us, too.”

“Good thing they didn’t hear me then, aye?” He bobbed his eyebrows to make his point. “Besides, someone needs to stay behind to watch the camp.”

“Bess can’t do that?”

Robert chuckled. “She is quite amazing and unexpected, isn’t she?”

With a small nod, a sad, reminiscent smile grew on my face. “She reminds me of Mama Joan. Stern and formidable.”

“Aye. Only funnier, too.”

Slowly, I regarded my brother. The man could hardly stand still, and as our eyes crept toward our horses in the distance—where Tuck and John were preparing supplies—he only grew giddier.

“What has you in such a good mood?” I asked.

“Suppose I’m just happy we’ve finally made an alliance, sister. We can be a family again.”

The sentiment was nice, though I wasn’t sure that was it. We were running headlong into danger, after all, and I got the sense Robert relished it . . . sort of like me.

“You just want to be away from the doldrums of camp life, don’t you?”

His head bobbed from side to side. “Might have something to do with it. I’ve always grown bored easy. You know that.”

“Aye. You sailed halfway across the world to fight a war because of it.”

He flashed another smirk.

We walked by the fire where Gregory sat, opting not to disturb him. Once we were a few paces past him, though, the old man’s gravelly voice rose and stopped us like children caught in the pig pen.

“Hoy.”

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