The Ghosts of Sherwood (The Robin Hood Stories 1)

Their captor came over and ripped out her gag. She spat against it, coughed. “She won’t speak, she has no voice. Please, leave her alone, I beg you.”

Edmund considered, glancing back at the girl who huddled by the tree, shivering. “No voice? Mute?” Mary nodded. “Is she simple?”

She didn’t answer, because Eleanor was certainly not simple but she would seem so to a man like him. If they thought her so, maybe they would leave her alone. Or maybe they would torment her even more.

“What are your names?” the man asked her.

“I’m Mary. These are John and Eleanor.” She hoped to set him a little at ease so he would stop harassing Eleanor.

He nodded. “Thank you, Mary of Locksley. Give them some water.” He gave this order to the youngest of them, a beardless youth with a constantly startled expression. He had a bruise on the side of his face—so he’d been one of the ones the ghost had struck. Alas, that the ghost hadn’t killed them all.

And the ghost was likely dead now.

The young one came to them with a water sack and regarded John dubiously. “I take this off, you promise to be quiet?” John nodded quickly. They all stayed quiet and drank when he tipped the sack to their mouths. Eleanor spit the water back out. The boy sighed and left them alone.

Mary ought to keep quiet. She’d put Edmund somewhat at ease and ought to leave him there. But she didn’t. “Who

are you? Why are you doing this?”

“Your father has enemies.”

She laughed. She didn’t mean to; it was just such a ridiculous thing to say. Of course her father had enemies, but never ones that had stooped to kidnapping. “And is this meant to win him over? He will kill you for this.”

He leered. “Not with you standing between us.”

“Then you’re a coward.” She should not have said that. She expected that he would hit her for that, and she braced for it, determined not to cry out.

He stepped over to her and spoke low. “When I was a boy, I served the Sheriff of Nottingham. Many of my friends died with arrows in their backs. Robin of Locksley is the coward and should hang as a thief and a murderer. Taking you will remind him of what he has to lose.”

“And you’re so very brave and honorable, bullying young girls while they’re tied up.”

That time, he backhanded her with a closed fist. Her vision lit up; her skull rattled. She bent over, gasping. It hurt, and her nose filled. Blood, maybe. Don’t cry, don’t cry . . . Straightening, she stared at him, trying to project an utter lack of concern. She could pretend not to be frightened.

John’s and Eleanor’s eyes both went round; they stiffened with fear and anger. But they remained still and quiet. Good. If Mary could keep Edmund’s attention, he would leave them alone.

One of the others laughed. “She certainly has her father’s tongue, doesn’t she?”

“Tell me, Mary of Locksley. You speak like your father. Do you also shoot like him?” He held up a bow. And what was he going to do now . . .

“Nobody in England shoots like Robin of Locksley,” she said.

“But you do shoot?”

She nodded.

“I want to see.”

He took a knife from his belt and cut the rope off her hands. First thing she did was touch her face. Her right cheek was numb, and yes, her hand came away from her nose bloody. Gently as she could, she wiped her face with her sleeve. Made more of a mess than not, but nothing felt broken. Just bruised and bloody. Made it easier to glare at him. Slowly, she got to her feet.

He offered her a bow and arrow, and she took them, imagined shooting him. But he pointed off into the woods. “You see that birch there?”

It was far off, nothing more than a white line in shadow, especially in the late afternoon light. Edmund said, “If you can hit the notch between those two branches, I will let you all go.”

She couldn’t do it. It was too far away and he knew it. He was teasing her. But the worst part was John and Eleanor both looked at her with hope, as if they believed they were already saved.

He added, “And if you point that at any of us, I will beat the little one bloody. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”