make certain she was where she meant to be. A shallow, marshy ditch ran around the inside of the wall, but beyond it was a cluster of slumped, crooked houses, and a narrow lane that would soon be occupied by waking townsfolk going about their days.
Marian dropped back down on the outside of the wall. Her skirts caught on the rough, rocky wall and nearly knocked her off balance, and she swatted at them irritably. At her feet were Robin’s cloak and Alan’s bow and quiver.
Robin will meet me in the forest, she’d told her men, as they moved, leading the mare, toward Nottingham. This message tied to Jonquille’s bridle will tell them his demands. You three will go to Nottingham as planned, give out the pearls, and tie Jonquille to the gates. By the time a guard comes, you must all be safely away, back under cover in the trees.
They had protested, all of them, but especially Will. His eyes were passionate as he spoke over Marian, telling her that it was too dangerous for her, that she’d already risked too much in freeing him, that they could use some other ruse. When she’d asked him to provide an alternate plan, though, he’d fallen quiet, merely looking at her with anguish.
She’d kept Alan’s bow after he’d promised her he could get another, and one for Will as well, so that they’d have more than Little John’s staff should they run into trouble. And then she’d checked that the missive in Jonquille’s bridle was secure, reassured her mare as Will approached her warily, and watched as the three set off toward the town. She’d waited until they were out of sight before breaking into a run at an angle, aiming for the western part of the town.
Marian might have to play two roles this morning, if there were any snags in their plan. Now that she stood looking down at her costume, she was restless not with fear, but with anticipation. Robin had triumphed—albeit without much grace in some cases— every time he’d come up against Gisborne and the Sheriff. Today would be no different, except that instead of just trying desperately to save herself and the small handful of people she could defend, she was taking action against their enemies.
The spot where she stood was still in shadow, but over her shoulder dawn was touching the distant edge of Sherwood Forest with rosy fingers and resurrecting the autumn colors from the leaching darkness. Though she could not see the crowds at the gate, she wasn’t all that far away, hidden around the curve of the western wall. The indistinct murmur of far-off conversation had risen and smoothed as more voices joined in, and when one voice rose over the others in a cry of relief and gratitude, Marian knew that the “merry” followers of Robin Hood, as Alan had called them, were continuing their work handing out Lady Seild’s pearls.
Moving quickly, Marian tied back her hair and secured her mask. She was wearing her dress, for there was no room in the timing of her plan to change her clothing. But she’d wound her skirts about her thighs and tied them, and once she’d donned the green cloak, she might as well have been wearing men’s clothes.
As Robin, she crept back along the wall, one hand against the stones, the other gripping the bow. The grass gave way to mud, and as she rounded the curve, she saw the mud dotted with rickety lean-tos and bedrolls. They were empty, however, and once she caught a glimpse of the crowd, she knew she’d interpreted the sounds correctly. She could not see Alan and Will in the press of people, but she could see Little John’s head above the others, grinning broadly and shouting greetings and well-wishes in response to the mixed cries of entreaty and gratitude.
Marian’s eyes slid left, and she saw Jonquille by the gates, shifting her weight nervously and watching the crowd. There was no sign yet of the guards, but the commotion would bring them at any moment. Go, she shouted silently, gaze shifting back to John’s smiling face. Don’t stand there basking, GO!
But as she grew more and more accustomed to the voices, able to pick out more of the conversation, she realized why they were lingering. Alan was doing most of the talking, telling tales of Robin o’ the Hood, the nobleman-turned-outlaw, the legend who’d returned from the grave to help the people in their