Juliana Garnett by The Baron Read Free Book Online

would know it had been true.
    She knelt on one knee, her hands around the longbow, so cool beneath her palms. He had given it to her. The gift angered her mother; she had heard them later, when they thought she was asleep, their voices raised, one in protest and the other in defense. In the end, she had been allowed to keepthe longbow, though she did not know what had been said to arrange such a miracle.
    Braced with arms on her bent leg, she gazed out from the oak and waited. It was so hushed and still that she knew the moment he came; she heard the heavy step, and smiled.
I knew he would not fail me.
    Abrupt shadow obliterated the light from without. From the dark came a familiar voice: “Be ye in there, my lady?”
    “Yea, John Lyttle, I am here. What of you?”
    Soft laughter preceded the immense form that stooped, peered into the cocoon of bark and decay, then put a huge foot inside. The rest of him followed, agile for so large a man. Set into a face bearded with red-gold and marked by years were bright blue eyes and a wide grin.
    “I never thought to see ye again in the belly of an oak.”
    She smiled, foolishly pleased to see him again, greatly relieved he had come. “It has been a long time.”
    “Aye. Too long. My bones ache with age.” He shifted; legs encased in cross-gartered hosen and boots bent beneath him to lend more room inside the hollow. One hand scratched along his bearded jaw in the speculative habit she had forgotten. “Is this a fool’s dream we ply?”
    “No.” She drew in a deep breath that smelled of damp wood. “It can be done.”
    Thick fingers stroked the beard that had sprinkles of gray amidst the red-gold. “Aye,” he said at last, pensive and heavy, “if Robin were still with us. He is not.”
    “Will came. And Alan of the Dales. They brought others who weary of empty bellies and purses.”
    “I saw them.” He grunted, boots shifting on the thick cushion of moss and deadfall inside the tree. He smelled of wet wool. “ ’Tis dangerous, my lady.”
    “Yea, so it is. When did Little John begin to mewl an old man’s complaints?”
    “When I became one.” He paused. “Or thought I would live long enough to see the prince become king.”
    “We are still here.”
    “Not all of us.”
    He did not have to say the name again; she knew it well, hadheard it since infancy, loved it since she was old enough to follow the laughing woodsman who was uncle, earl—and the outlawed Robin Hood.
    “No. Not all of us.” She curled her hands more tightly around the sleek yew of her bow. “But enough of us. Here. Today. With the means at hand to thwart the sheriff.”
    “My lady—”
    “Tax men come along the Birklands road. Four of them. Only four. There are ten of us.”
    “Nine.” Resignation clenched his jaw. “If I stay, ye must go.”
    “You need my skill.” She waggled the bow. “I will stay safely in here, but my arrows will fly. Even soldiers cannot endure a swift arrow through mail—and these are garbed as monks.”
    “Monks? Not soldiers?” John’s brows knitted. “The new sheriff is either bold or witless.”
    “He thinks to disguise them, but Tuck sent word that these monks wear leather hauberks beneath their robes.”
    “And they travel through Sherwood.” John shook his head doubtfully. “I had not thought Devaux foolish. Ruthless in seizing monies and men for the king’s service, but not so foolish to send only four men through Sherwood laden with silver.”
    “You have been talking to Will.”
    “Aye, that I have. He said nothing about monks. He said soldiers.
Normans
. The sheriff’s men and thus the king’s as well. We would hang if caught.”
    “If caught.” She put a hand on his arm. Taut muscle flexed beneath her fingers. “Children go hungry because the outlaws take what little the king leaves. If we take the sheriff’s monies, he will pursue those outlaws at last.”
    “What will this serve? Killing the sheriff’s men will only bring