alive to do so.
“Even if we wanted to leave,” said Will, “we’ve got nothing but our clothes, a few weapons, and whatever food we can forage. Hardly enough to get us to the next shire, much less over the channel.”
“I can get you money.” With a start, Marian remembered the pearl hairnet she’d stolen from Seild. It was still tucked inside Robin’s tunic. She stopped pacing, retrieved the net, and tossed it to Will. “Each of those pearls would fetch enough to get you out of the country. The local merchants can’t offer their full worth, but you can get enough supplies to travel, and save a few for passage on a ship.”
The men inspected the delicate, pearl-studded net in silence. She couldn’t see their faces clearly, but one of them—she thought it was Alan—whistled appreciatively. They didn’t ask how she’d come by it.
Alan lifted his face, a pale oval in the dark. “You must need money yourself,” he said slowly. “Robin or not, you don’t have the wealth of Locksley lands to support you. Not now.”
“I’m fine,” Marian replied shortly. “Take it.”
Will was holding the pearls cupped in both hands, gazing down at them with round eyes that caught the patchy starlight and glittered. It was more wealth than he’d ever touched.
Little John got to his feet, unfolding slowly, continuing to straighten long after Marian thought he’d reached his full height. “Maybe this would get us out of Nottingham,” he rumbled slowly. “Maybe out of England altogether. But what then? Outlaws again, only this time foreigners to boot. This is our home. We’ll not leave it.”
Marian blinked. It was easy to dismiss John as a pile of dense muscle and bone, but she hadn’t thought about what they’d do once they escaped. If it were her, she’d find relatives in France, or seek shelter in a convent, which always accepted novices of noble blood. But what recourse did they have?
“Don’t think because we’re outlaws that we’re lawless,” John went on. “We watch each other. We don’t take from people as can’t live without what we take. We’re loyal to the crown, the true crown. And we’d be loyal to you, if you asked us.”
Marian’s throat tightened, and with a strangled sound she turned her back. Frustration and emotion both stole her voice, and she didn’t want them to see her eyes growing damp. The moon was emerging from the clouds, its light painting the clearing in silver and lavender.
What was she to do with a trio of wanted men? Wanted, she thought. What a joke of a word—they’re wanted men because no one wants them. “I can’t ask for your loyalty, because I have nothing with which to reward you for it. I don’t need your help.”
A rustle of leaves made her glance over her shoulder. Alan was standing next to John now, and had laid a hand on the other man’s arm to forestall his protest. The minstrel waited, considering, looking thoughtful in the moonlight. “Why are you here?” he asked finally.
“To help,” Marian replied, echoing the explanation she’d given him when they hid in the trees above Gisborne’s men. “And I’ve done so.” And it’s over.
The thought, rather than carrying relief, brought only a strange discomfort, a kind of unease that made her shift her weight from foot to foot.
“These pearls—if we don’t use them to flee, they could help. They could feed some of those wretches begging at Nottingham’s gates.”
Will looked up, his expression torn, but when he glanced from the pearls in his hands to Alan’s face, he added, “They could buy pardons for some of the other outlaws here in Sherwood, whose crimes don’t yet warrant hanging.”
Marian looked between them, turning back around to face them, her thoughts spinning. “They could pay for livestock levies and prevent foreclosure of Locksley lands.” As well as Edwinstowe, she thought dazedly, remembering the angry helplessness on her father’s face when he’d told her of the Prince’s plans to raise taxes.
“Probably not all those things from a handful of pearls,” Alan admitted. “But nobility travels these roads every day, laden with jewels like these.”
Marian’s heart was thudding so hard she felt certain the others would hear it. “It could help,” she whispered. She was looking at the men, but the faces she saw belonged to the two boys she’d seen as she rode through the crowd of beggars outside Nottingham’s gates.
“We could help,” Little John corrected her gently.
“It’s mad.” Marian’s vision blurred.
“True.” Alan grinned. “But these are mad