The Heirs of Locksley (The Robin Hood Stories 2)

Her fourth arrow hit the lantern itself. The candle inside burst and sputtered out. One of the men screamed.

“You three wait here.” She went to her brother, who was running toward her, collecting arrows as he came.

“You almost shot me!” he yelled, laughing and gasping for breath.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Where’d you get the bow? Whose arrows are these?”

“You’ll have to ask Eleanor.”

“We’re going to have so much explaining to do.”

“First, we run.”

The attackers were already regrouping to follow. The arrows had only temporarily startled them.

When they reached Henry, Eleanor, and Walter, Mary risked a look back. Six men came at them from across the field.

“Go, go,” she hissed, urging the others before her, steering them away from the hedgerow, down the lane toward the encampments. Witnesses, right now they needed lots of witnesses. They reached the first of the tents, fires, picket lines, and sleeping horses. Now if they could just find a place to hide and rest for a few moments.

She was about to apologize to the king again, but he was grinning. “Was this what it was like for Robin Hood in Sherwood, do you think, when the sheriff’s men chased him?”

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “How frightened are we all?”

“Robin Hood was never frightened, I’m sure of it,” the king insisted.

“The stories tend to leave that part out,” John said. “Mother talks mostly about the wet and the cold and holding your breath while the sheriff’s men walk by and every little noise wracking your nerves. So, yes, I’d say this was a lot like it was for them.”

“But we saved Walter’s life,” Henry insisted. He so wanted to be useful.

“Well, I did promise an adventure,” John said tiredly.

Henry spoke carefully. “A king must do great deeds. Everyone knows this. But I’m not sure what I can do.”

“You don’t have to do great deeds right now,” Mary said, trying to sound reassuring. “You’re only thirteen. Plenty of time to do great deeds later.”

But Henry insisted. “I might reclaim my family’s lands in Normandy. Or go on Crusade like my uncle did.”

“All very expensive,” John said. “The barons will not like it when you start asking them for money for wars abroad.”

“Yes, I know. But I am king.” As if this explained everything. As if going on Crusade was anything like being an outlaw in Sherwood Forest.

“Perhaps it would be enough for you to be a good English king,” Mary said.

“Like Edward the Confessor. He was a great man!” Henry said.

Mary, a little taken aback, said, “Some would say there has not been a good English king since Edward, before the Normans came.”

“William the Conqueror is my forefather. I am his direct heir. Do you disparage him?”

“No. Forgive me, sire. I’m a bit tired just now.”

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nbsp; “Line all my ancestors up—it’s a lot to live up to,” Henry said. “I don’t see how I can.”

“Do not worry so, my liege,” John said. “Some things take care of themselves.”