a name slip when so many precautions had been taken to guard against easy identification. Of secondary import, but equally remiss on her part, was the fact that she had not retrieved her hat or made any attempt to conceal the shocking red proof that she was a woman in squire’s clothing.
“Since you seem to be so concerned with waste,” Eduard said evenly, “perhaps you could busy yourself by retrieving my arrowhead.”
Ariel glanced down at the body. From the depth of the shaft, she judged the tip to be lodged between the knuckles of the villain’s spine. Freeing it would probably require some digging and cutting … a job worthy of making the strongest of stomachs turn in revulsion. She looked up at Henry, but saw no mercy in his frown. Sedrick, who could usually be counted on for a soft heart, merely shook his head and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. There was no appealing to Sparrow, who would have emblazoned the scene on a tapestry had he been in possession of needle and thread. Robin was off chasing down the rouncies and Dafydd’s protest was choked back on a cold glance from FitzRandwulf’s steely gray eyes.
She drew a calming breath and stared down at the body again. If the Bastard was hoping to humiliate her by seeing her weep or run from the task with her stomach spilling into her hands, he was sorely ignorant of the De Clare bloodlines. Squaring her shoulders, she dropped down onto one knee and gave the shaft of the arrow a halfhearted tug, feeling her gorge lurch into her throat as the steel tip grated on two discs of bone.
Eduard observed for a moment, then turned back to their prisoner.
“Well, Alan, son of Tom, yeoman of the Dale of Sherwood, think you you could find your way back to England without joining company with any more unlucky villains?”
The youth looked over suspiciously.
“Moreover, if we felt inclined to let you keep your eyes and tongue as well as your life, could you give your word not to make me regret denying the carrions another corpse to feed upon?”
“You would let me go free?”
“I see no benefit in keeping you. Nor, as has been so sagely pointed out to me, have we the time or energy to waste in finding the local justicar and making endless explanations.”
“Would it not be easier just to shoot him?” Sparrow asked.
“Aye, Puck, it would. And we will if he feels we cannot trust his word … and his silence.”
If the young giant read more into FitzRandwulf’s generous offer than was intended, or if he began to suspect these knights and their “squire” were reluctant to draw any more attention to themselves, he wisely kept silent.
“Well? Do we have your word?”
“Aye. If you will take it, then you shall have it.”
“Go then. I give you your life … and whatever coin you can trade for a fine, twice-tempered arrowhead. It should be more than enough to buy you your way home.”
The lad glanced down at the arrow stuck in his arm. The fletching dangled by a splinter, which he snapped off and flung aside. With the faintest grunt to mark its passage through, he grasped the barbed arrowhead and pulled the shortened length of ashwood out the back of his arm, gripping it tight for a moment while a shudder of pain passed through him.
“The one debt will be enough to repay,” he said, placing the bloodied shaft with its valuable steel tip in Eduard’s hand. “And repay it I will, my lord. You have my word on that as well.”
The erstwhile outlaw touched his hand to a greasy forelock before turning and ambling off down the gully. Although his arm must have been screaming with pain, a thin and merrily whistled tune drifted back through the trees as he made his way into deeper shadows.
“You are just letting him walk away?”
Eduard took a firmer grip on his patience before he responded to the disbelieving accusation. Ariel had worked the arrowhead free and was standing behind FitzRandwulf with the dripping trophy clutched in her hand.
“I thought we had made enough corpses for one day.”
“But … he knows who you are.”
“So he does. Not, however, because of anything I have said or done.”
“He is a murderer; he admitted as much. And a thief. And a traitor to the king.”
Eduard folded his arms across his chest. “A traitor, is he? For speaking ill of his sovereign? For choosing to boast