I crossed my arms. “I reckon if you continue being yourself, we’ll need a coffin that’s fully intact in short order.”
Rob scowled at us. “Lads—and Scar—there’s loot to be sorted. Does this not hold your interest?”
I blushed. “Interested.”
John kicked the box open. They bent over it, pushing through things, but I stood rooted to the floor. It were sitting there, on top of everything: a lock of dark brown hair wrapped in bright red ribbon. The scarlet ribbon were too close to the ones I tied to my knives; even if the boys didn’t know whose lock of hair it were, they’d yap about the ribbon.
I reached in and grabbed the hair, twisting it round my hand in a trice to hide it from the lads. Rob looked at me quick, but we just kept digging through the things. There were clothes and boots, some money but not a lot. Much got into the jewelry, which we could melt down and sell for the most money.
“What’s this?” asked Rob, looking over his shoulder. He picked up a small ladies’ ring. “This is the Leaford crest, isn’t it?”
“Leaford were his fiancée,” I told them. “The one that killed herself.”
“He kept her ring? He must have taken her death hard,” John guessed.
Honestly. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about or what a villain he is, John,” I told him.
Rob looked at me in that way of his, and I looked down.
“What’s that mean?” John asked.
“He just wanted to own her, like he owns her ring. And she killed herself rather than have him.”
It felt like a wave of water were coming to crush me with the weight of Rob’s stare.
“You knew her.”
I couldn’t cop to that. That would put me in Leaford’s lands, which weren’t far from Nottingham. “She had a sister. I knew her sister.” Even talking about Joanna made my pipes hurt. I couldn’t swallow proper.
I weren’t sure if Rob believed me or not. He kept looking at me, like I left a door open and he were trying to crane round the side to peek in.
John looked up at me. “So you must know more about him than you’re letting on. What do you know?”
“Nothing useful. Nothing good.”
“Tell us, Scar,” Much said.
“There’s nothing you want to hear. She just said he were awful. Signed the contract before it were even legal to wed and set the date for the first day it were. She said that her sister cried and cried to her parents that she didn’t want to be married, and they didn’t care. He wanted the land, and her parents wanted his money, and that were all there were to talk about.”
“So she killed herself,” John said.
“So they say.”
“That really doesn’t sound all that awful,” John muttered. “Not worth dying for.”
“You know nothing of it, John. To be silenced when your wishes don’t matter, to be sold like property, and to a man like him?” I spat at his feet. “A man would know nothing of it.”
“And what would a thief know of it?” John scoffed. “Like you’ve ever done a damn thing you didn’t want to.”
I shook my head. “I know what it’s like when you can’t get no one to listen to you. When what you say don’t matter. I half think every girl knows what it’s like to be silenced.”
“It’s a terrible practice,” Rob agreed. “Most parents wait longer. Most suitors want them to.”
“Let’s open the second one,” I suggested, kicking it open like John did. My foot rang and jangled with the contact, but it felt good after all the talking.
“Ooh, weapons,” Much said.
John pushed him aside. “You don’t even know what to do with them, Much.”
Much scowled dark, and before I could fuss at John for it, John tossed me a set of knives. I caught them.
They were treasures, the metal darker than most I’d seen. There were a fine grain where the metal had been folded. “This is Saracen metal,” I breathed. Both had a small ruby set in the hilt, a finer version of the garnet in my favorite knives.
“Easy, Scar—we should sell those,” Rob reminded.
I frowned. “You’ll never get a good price for these here, not what they’re worth. Besides, I can steal back the value if you give me the say-so.”
“Maybe she is a girl after all, hankering after shiny baubles.” John laughed.
My fist balled up but I didn’t sock him. Me wanting shiny knives and fool girls’ sighing over shiny jewels weren’t near the same thing.
“Do whatever you think is right, Scar. I can’t tell you what to do—isn’t that what you always say?” Rob said. He weren’t smiling at me, though, and he turned away, as if he didn’t want to see me nick them.
My mouth tightened and I tossed them into the pile that we’d sell or give away. I don’t have no grand thoughts of myself—I ain’t no saint to be sure—but thinking of Amy Cooper and the people who didn’t have nothing to eat, it’s not like I could keep them fair. Nothing were fair.
We kept digging through Gisbourne’s belongings, and the only thought that cheered me up were Gisbourne’s mug when he found out.
Much and I set to sorting the clothing into packages that we could give away. We could do that with the clothes since none were too distinct, but the jewelry and metals had to be melted and broken to sell raw. See, if Gisbourne were to find someone with something of his he could recognize, he’d kill the lamb for sure, innocent or not, and we couldn’t risk that. John and Rob took to hacking and snapping the other bits.
“Will you show me how to throw a knife, Scar?” Much asked, quiet.
I looked up at him. He weren’t looking at me; he were tying off a package of clothing. “Not sure if it’s your weapon.”
He frowned. “I know I’d have to borrow your knife.”
I shook my head, pointing at Rob with one of my knives. He had his long bow strapped ’cross his back. “Bow is Rob’s weapon. It suits him. He moves with it; it works like his arms got pulled out and shaped to a bow.”
“It’s part of him,” Much said, tucking his bad arm ’neath his cloak.
I nodded. “I’ll teach you, but I ain’t sure it’s your weapon.”
“Of course it’s not,” he muttered, piling more clothes.
“Hey,” I said, enough bite that he looked up. “I ain’t saying you don’t have a weapon, Much.”
His eyebrows got bunched up tight together. “Sure you are. I only have one decent arm. How can I fight worth a damn?”
My mouth twisted, and I pushed him. “Shut it, Much. People think I can’t fight worth a damn, even not knowing I’m a girl, and I prove ’em wrong. We prove ’em wrong. And I have an idea, all right?”
He shook his head. “You lot think I’m not good for anything. John says as much every chance he gets.”
“Oh, and he would know? All he does is hit things.”
He rubbed his chest where I shoved him. “You do a fair lot of hitting yourself, Scar.”
“Don’t make me do it again. John ain’t the be-all of opinions.”
He sighed, going back to his pile of clothing.
“Look, I ain’t saying it will be fair easy.” I pushed up my sleeve and showed him loads of little white scars from nicks and cuts. “I were terrible with my knives when I first started, but they were the only weapons I could hold and hide, so I learned them.” I showed him the ribbon on one of them. “And then they learned me.”
“I don’t understand.”
I ran the ribbon through my hands. “I used to tie ribbons on them to grab them quick. They’re my hair ribbons. And then when Rob nabbed me in London, I wouldn’t tell him my name. So he called me Mr. Scarlet till he found out I were a girl. Then it were just Scarlet.”
“It’s not your real name?”
My eyes met his, fair serious, fair dark. I shook my head slow.
He looked at me for a long time, and I looked down. When his mouth opened, I said, “What’s the rock you’ve been cutting at?”
He lo
oked up. His face changed a little, and for a breath he were looking at me like he looked at Rob. “Want to see?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
He smiled and jumped to his feet. I followed him, going to the fire pit. He took a smaller log from the banked fire and went into the corner of the cave. I could see he’d hollowed out a vein in the big rock, collecting the graveled bits in a bowl. He put the torch on the ground, then stepped far back, pushing me with his bad arm.
He took a pinch of the grayish powder. “Don’t scream,” he said with a smile.
I scowled. “I don’t scream, Much.”
“You might.”
He flicked the powder toward the flame.
It caught, flaring up in a bright white flash that looked like God himself came into the cave with no burning bush to announce him.
I knocked Much over, covering our heads, slamming to the stone ground in a pile.
He were chuckling as my vision came back slow. White light were still arcing ’cross my eyeballs, but it were beginning to feel more like the Devil’s work than God’s.
“What in Christ’s name was that?” Rob shouted. Smoke were rolling out of the cave, but the burning were done. He and John were waving their arms like it would do any good.
“Not sure,” Much called.
I slapped his chest. “Me neither, but good job, Much.” I looked to him, and he smiled. “Rob, I think Much might know a way to stall the sheriff a bit.”
“I do?”
I sat up, pulling Much with me, and looked at the powder. “Don’t you? Seems to me the only thing we didn’t reckon is that the sheriff can’t go after the people if he’s busy with his own bits.”
Rob came forward. “You want to set an explosion?” He looked to Much. “Do you have enough of this powder?”
“To tumble Castle Rock? No, but maybe I can find some more in the other caves.”
“Do it.”
It took us two full days to move what we could, sell some of the metal, then give away the clothes and stockpile the jewels and coin. It also meant two days off the road, and it felt like time were sinking its claws into us.
We met in the inn that night, and I came in unnoticed as usual. My head were beating like a hammer from the cut and bruise surrounding it; since the guard clobbered me it had lumped up and colored dark, and my hat pushed on it tight. Still, I’d rather the pain than strutting ’bout without my hat, so I were fair out of luck. I also had bad news, and that never put me in a good mind.
John nodded to me as I slid in.
“Rob’s not here yet?”
“No. Tuck made you a meat pie,” he told me. He moved over, meaning I should sit next to him. I looked around. Much were sitting on the edge of the other end of the bench, no room beside him. The bench kind of curled around the table. I sighed and sat next to John. There were a pie, and it had an S cut into the top of it. It smelled better’n Heaven. I picked up the spoon and stabbed it, taking a scoop and eating it. My stomach rolled and I stopped, wondering if I had waited too long to eat. I could feel John looking at me, so I tried another bite.
Rob came in then, and his eyes went straight to me and the food. I took another bite and my stomach twisted. “Finish that, Scar. You didn’t eat breakfast.”
“And you only took a bite of dinner last night,” Much reminded.
I glared. “Thanks, Much.”
Rob crossed his arms, and I took another bite. Sweat broke on my head; I felt like I were going to retch it all back up.
“Well, the good news—after a fashion—is that I couldn’t fence the weapons; they are too distinct. No one around here is selling anything like them. So we all just got new weapons. Scar, you just got your knives back.”
I winced out a bit of a smile, and he stayed watching me for a second. I took another bite. I held it in my mouth, trying not to swallow, but he just watched me.
I swallowed, and he looked away.
“Christ,” I moaned, jumping up and slamming out the back door. I just made it outside when all the food rushed back up. My knees wobbled and gave out as I retched again, but Rob’s arm caught me around my waist, holding me against him.
I retched one more time and tried to get my legs under me. “Easy,” said John’s voice.
I looked up, trying to pull away. It were John? Why had I thought it would be Rob catching me?
“Easy, easy,” he repeated, rubbing my back.
“Stop touching me, please,” I muttered. He stopped rubbing, but his arm didn’t leave my waist. I pushed him off, crouching down over my knees. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. My head were beating out a mean tune.
“You all right?” Rob asked. I turned and saw Rob and Much standing there. Rob’s arms were crossed and he looked dark. I hated the way they were all looking at me.
“Fine,” I said. I stood, feeling only a little wobbly.
“Scar, you’re sick,” Rob said, and his voice were rough and a little frightening.
“I ain’t sick,” I snapped. “I just told you, I eat when I’m hungry.”
John were still on one knee. “You’re too hungry. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
I crossed my arms, and he stood up.
“That’s what happens when you don’t eat enough—you can’t even eat when you want to. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I eat, for Christ’s sake,” I growled. I moved to go back into the tavern, but Rob wouldn’t budge.
“Still, after all this time?” Rob asked, soft. “You’ve been lying to me about eating more?”
“It’s not about you, Rob,” John said.
Rob’s eyes shot to John, but I didn’t dare look at neither. “No, it’s about her. I promised I’d look out for you, Scar. After you were so hungry in London, I swore to you that I’d get you fed. Why have you lied to me all this time?”
I felt shame rising up in my throat behind the food, and I hit his chest. “Because it weren’t what you wanted to hear, Rob!”
“Well, I’m listening now, Scar.”
I shook my head. “I’m fine! I eat. But these damn bruises make my face hurt so much my stomach twists up. And sometimes just thinking of all these people that can’t even scrape up a crumb, that twists up my belly too. But there ain’t much I can do ’bout it.” I glared at him. “And it doesn’t go away. It ain’t something you can fix. I were hungry for a long time, Rob, and much as I’d like, bits of me won’t never get over that. No matter what you grump at me ’bout.”
He grabbed my arms, bringing me close to his face, and his eyes looked like the ocean, deep and dark and full of things I knew nothing ’bout. “We don’t lie to each other, Scar. Especially not about things that mean I might lose you.”
My breath froze in my chest. Did he just say that?
He let me go. “Because losing one member would put the whole band at risk. Do you understand?”
Just like that, I felt all the heat leave my bones, and I shivered. I nodded, and John put his arm around me. Christ, he were warm all of the sudden. “Let’s get inside.” To me, quieter, he said, “Try eating some bread or broth. They’ll go down easier than a pie.”
I nodded and let him keep his arm around me as we went in. John sat real close to me, warm and protective. He pulled a piece of bread off the plate with the pie and pushed it toward me.
In all the time I’d known John, he’d played the older brother to most everyone at some point, but never with me. And to have him do it then felt fair strange.
I picked the bread up and took a little bite, gnawing on it a bit. “I have some information,” I said, hating how feeble my voice sounded.
Rob didn’t look at me. “Go ahead.”
“Gisbourne’s getting us back. He’s tripling the forest patrols, day and night. Anyone caught poaching will be strung up the next dawn.”
Rob nodded. “Well, he could have done worse. We’re prepared for worse. Just tell the townspeople that we’ll get them food; they can’t risk it themselves.” r />
“I don’t think it helps,” Much said. “They all know if they get caught, we’ll get them out, so they try it anyway.”
“Then tell them Gisbourne intends to kill them on sight,” Rob said. “Because I’m sure that’s what he really has in mind anyway.”
I nodded. “He’s every kind of awful.”
“Which also means for the next few days, we all will be hunting and patrolling the forest in pairs, then scaring up the roads in the morning.” He sighed, and his shoulders bent a little, like someone were shoving down hard. “We can sell the furs, at least.”
“And antlers,” I added.
He nodded. “If anyone’s not up to doubling their time over, say it now.”
We all were silent.
“Good. Stay sharp. We can’t afford mistakes right now. Scar, since you and I are the hunters, I’ll take John and you take Much.”
Everyone stopped at this.
“That’s foolish. I’ll go with Scar,” John said. Rob’s face turned stormy, but John continued. “Rob, I’m no hunter, but if she runs amok of Gisbourne’s men, I’ll be more help than Much.” Much frowned, and John shrugged. “Sorry, Much.”
Much sighed. “He’s right. We’re the scrawny ones, Scar.”
“But we both have our uses,” I reminded.
“Fine,” Rob said, his teeth gritted. “John, go with Scar.”
I waited for John to make some rub about going with me, but he didn’t. Who knew it took retching for a lug like him to be friend-like? Not that I expected it to last long, mind.
“Should we go now?” Much asked.
“Would you two wait outside for a moment?” Rob asked, nodding to John and Much. “Can we talk, Scar?”
I didn’t nod, but I didn’t leave neither. I let John out from the bench and leaned against the wall, crossing my arms and looking down. He leaned against the opposite wall, looking at me. “What should I be doing for you, Scar? Honestly.”
“Doing?” I repeated.
“When we left London, you weren’t eating, and I tried so hard to get you to eat more. For years now I thought it was working. I thought you were eating just fine. But you’re not, and I don’t know what to do for you.” He raked his hand over his hair, and it went every which way in his wake. “You scare me,” he said. “Thinking of you hurting scares me. So I have to do something. And you need to tell me what it is, because obviously what I was doing before wasn’t right.”