Page 63 of Rogue of the Greenwood
He was already climbing out of the wagon. John grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Rob, where are you going?”
Robert shook off his friend. He swung his legs over the side rails and dropped to the ground. Dustinghimself, he took a deep breath and prepared for battle.
“God help me, but I’m going to church.”
“Stay back!” Marianne barked down to the men gathered below her.
Her voice growled and reverberated in the cold height of the bell tower where she had positioned herself. Hopefully, the men would not detect she was female—the costume she wore did much to conceal the fact, but she was careful to speak as little as possible. A few well-placed arrows at the feet of the encroaching lawmen held them back far better than any words she could have uttered.
“Listen to him!” Mr. Fraytuck called to the men from the door of the church. “This archer is not playing games. Anyone who comes closer gets an arrow to the chest!”
Marianne held her bow higher, the arrow nocked steadily, and prayed the men would take heed. She had no intention of actually shooting anyone, though Mr. Gisborn stood below with the sheriff. They made quite tempting targets. So far both men were obedient, so she spared them.
Mr. Fraytuck was proving a helpful ally. He’d been quite perplexed when she showed up in his vestry, ranting that there was a scheme underway to capture Robin Hood. Perhaps what gave him the most shock was her apparel. Marianne had been wearing the musty old costume she’d brought back from the lodge.
She’d half expected the vicar to dismiss her claims, but he did not. In fact, he seemed very much aware of Mr. Gisborn’s plan and assured her that Robert wasactually in very little danger. He hurriedly explained that this was merely a ruse they had invented to distract Mr. Gisborn while Robert and his men tended to other matters in town. Mr. Fraytuck was rather cagey about details on that, despite her many questions.
All he would tell her was that her help was appreciated, but not needed. She ought to hurry home before she got herself even more involved in things that might endanger her. He suggested there was a secret way he could help her leave, but she was in no hurry to go. If not for the fact that she could sense his honest concern, she would have thought him insultingly dismissive. In the end, his warnings proved useless.
Mr. Reeve and his men showed up at the church earlier than expected. He pounded on the door, demanding Mr. Fraytuck let him in to search the place. Mr. Gisborn stood there, too, clearly the orchestrater of this action. Their arrival had left Marianne trapped, confined in the church, wearing her Robin Hood costume. The good vicar had no choice but to allow her to pursue her original plan. She would let Mr. Gisborn think he truly had found Robin Hood.
She ran up the narrow, twisting steps to position herself in the belfry. Mr. Fraytuck met the men at the church door, greeting them and claiming to be in fear for his life. The wild archer would surely shoot him if he left the church, he said, and Mr. Reeve’s men were doomed if they tried to come closer. To establish herself as a true threat, Marianne’s first arrows hit precise targets, forcing the men to back away from the church doors and take shelter behind corners or cartsor whatever they could find.
Now here they were, at an impasse. Gisborn and Reeve’s men could see her clearly, but from a safe distance. With Mr. Fraytuck’s insistence thatshewas ahe, the illusion of Robin Hood seemed complete. How long could she maintain it, though?
At some point Mr. Gisborn was bound to order his men into the church. How many could she stop before they made their way up to her? Or worse, how long would it be before someone produced a musket and dropped her where she stood?
Mr. Fraytuck’s last words to her were that he knew a way for her to escape this, she simply needed to provide a few minutes of distraction. She had done that, but those minutes had ticked away quickly. Now she prayed he truly did have a way to get them both out of this mess she had created.
“Please, Mr. Reeve,” the vicar pleaded loudly. “Keep your distance. Let me go up and speak to him. As a man of the cloth, perhaps he will listen to me and give himself up before there is unneeded bloodshed.”
The men in the churchyard grumbled and Mr. Reeve shook his head angrily, but Mr. Gisborn was clearly in charge.
“Very well,” he announced. “We will wait. Warn the man that the church is surrounded. If he does not agree to come out peacefully, or if he harms you in any way, we will take him by force.”
The huge door of the church slammed shut as Mr. Fraytuck left his post there. Marianne stepped into the shadows, her bow still taut and visible to those on the ground. Her muscles were beginning to ache, but she held steady. It would be just a few minutes longer; surely she could manage that.
Soon she heard the vicar’s footsteps on the old wooden staircase leading up toward her. He did not come all the way to the top. Instead, she was shocked to hear voices. He was speaking to someone on the level below! But who could it be?
Footsteps sounded on the staircase again, but not the heavy, labored feet of the vicar. No, these footsteps were pounding toward her rapidly, urgently. She was almost afraid to look. Had one of the sheriff’s men managed to gain entrance? Was she found out already?
Taking a cautious step toward the opening for the stairway, she steeled her stance. Her bow was tight, arrow pointed down into the darkness. Whoever was coming for her would regret it a moment later. To her surprise, though, she recognized the face that appeared.
“Mr. Locksley?”
“Ah, Miss Maidland and her bow,” he said, smiling from the dark opening even as he shushed her. “If you’d be so kind, please avert your weapon and come quickly! I’ve got to get you out of here.”
“But… how are you here?”
“Hurry! Their patience will run out at any moment. Fraytuck will hold them off as best he can, but you cannot be found here.”
“Neither can you,” she noted. “Oh, why are you always in such trouble?”
“Me?” he laughed quite heartily. “Dear Miss Maidland, you are not like any other.”
He reached up from the stairwell and nearly pulled her down to him. She stumbled on the first step, but he steadied her and led her quickly by the hand. Her nerves were quite a mess and she was glad for hissupport, even though she had a suspicion that it contributed greatly to her nervous disorder.
