and hold a quick, whispered council of war. Little John and Much would circle around to the north, where the undergrowth was thicker; Will and Alan, with their lighter, slighter forms, would come from the south. Marian and Elena would come along the stream leading Jonquille, and while Elena startled the horses into bolting, Marian would mount and signal the attack, shooting from horseback until she ran out of arrows.
Marian looked at the drawn, tense faces gathered around her and knew she ought to have some stirring speech to hearten them, words about honor and duty and charity, or else a joke to lighten their hearts. But she said only, “Listen to me, all of you. I’m glad to fight at your sides. I’m even gladder to have you fighting at mine. But I want no more death. If you can, spare their lives. And if I order it—if the fight turns sour, and you hear me signal—run.”
She saw Will’s expression darken, sensed John shifting his weight. She balled her hands into fists, resting them on the ground as she bowed her head, shutting all of them out. “If you ever had any love or loyalty for me, you will run if I order you to, understand? I will not fight unless you swear to me, on your honor as my men, that you’ll run if I ask you to.”
Silence met her demand at first, and she imagined—for she would not lift her head to look at them—her people exchanging glances, silent protests, grimaces of disapproval. But then a gentle voice murmured, “I swear.”
Much’s hand fell on her shoulder and squeezed. And then other voices joined his, and when Marian lifted her head again, her heart felt a little lighter. She nodded around to each of them, but no one moved.
“Well?” A flicker of fond irritation quickened her voice. “Go, then!”
Little John and Much began making their way down the ridge line, and Will melted into the forest. Alan, close at Elena’s side, cast Marian a sidelong look. “‘Go, then’?” he echoed, voice dripping with arch disapproval. “That might be the most moving farewell I’ve ever heard.”
“I don’t intend that it should be a farewell,” Marian retorted.
Alan had Elena’s hand in his, though he didn’t look at her as he spoke. “No one ever does.” He lifted her fingers to his lips for a long moment, and Marian turned away, feeling like an intruder upon something not for her to see.
It was some few minutes later that a gentle touch at her elbow bade her turn back. Alan was gone, and Elena stood with Jonquille’s reins in one hand, the other on Marian’s arm. She was frightened, and made no effort to hide it, but when Marian caught her eye, she smiled.
“He’s afraid,” she said softly as she fell into step beside Marian, and they began picking their careful way down the slope to the stream.
“He’s not the only one.” There was no need for Marian to keep using the lower, rougher voice now that she and Elena were alone, but she found it strangely difficult to stop. The warmth of Robin’s cloak, the weight of weaponry, the pressure of the mask on her face, were like an enveloping cocoon. Marian was too deep inside it to be seen—she was only Robin Hood now.
“I mean he’s afraid for you.” Elena had her eyes on the ground, taking each step with great care to avoid a tumble of leaves or stone that might alert a sentry. “He’s angry, but he loves you, too.”
Marian drew breath, too astonished to remember she was meant to be quiet, but Elena interrupted swiftly before she could betray herself.
“Not that way,” she whispered, amusement warming her voice. “I mean he loved you as Robin Hood. What he means, what he represents. The idea that one man could make a difference . . .” She paused to lead Jonquille around an outcropping of limestone. “It seems such a simple thing, but no one had ever told him that before. No one had ever told any of us that before.”
“I don’t know that I have made a difference,” admitted Marian softly.
They reached the bottom of the gully, and Jonquille paused to lip eagerly at the water in the stream. They were some distance back from the road, out of sight of the other horses, where it would be easier to mask the sounds of their approach.
“I don’t know either.” Elena reached out and took Marian’s arm, halting her