Scarlet

“I know you can handle yourself. Other people are the tough part.”

“I ain’t made of glass, John. Someone hits me and I don’t shatter.”

“Listen good, Scarlet. Long as I’m around, if someone wants to hurt you and I can stop it, I will.”

I flicked my eyes over to him, and he were staring at me in that way that I hate, like if he looked long enough he’d see everything I were. “I’m going to throw some knives around.”

“No, no, no,” Tuck called, pushing through the door frame and blocking my exit. He had a platter of food. “Robin says you eat.”

“Bugger off,” I snapped.

He scowled. “Scarlet, you wouldn’t refuse my food, would you? Drive an old man to drink?”

“You’re already a drunk and a terrible cook.”

“Now that’s just mean. Sit. Eat,” he told me. “And I’ll have a drink while I watch you.” He smiled, and his cheeks caught the light and filled with good-natured redness. He herded me back to the table, and John pushed closer so that they caged me in. Tuck put a bowl of venison stew in front of me.

I knew the more I ate the less they’d stare at me, so I choked down a few bites before they started chatting with each other. I chose that moment to duck under the table and slide out the back way before they could catch me.

It’s not like I don’t eat. I eat. I just don’t like charity and I don’t like them thinking they can put their noses into my life. Rob wants us all to be like a family, but I don’t. I want them kept far away from me.

Besides, I had errands to run. I managed to get a few loaves of bread from the sheriff’s baker and some clothes off the line from the keep’s laundress, and it weren’t like I had any use for that. Friar Tuck’s Inn were in Edwinstowe, the small town that were closest to our camp in the forest, and we knew the people there the best, so I knew who needed what. The thatched houses were so close together, like huddled-up children, and it always made them seem weak, vulnerable. Like they could be crushed. I left little packages in front of the doors; the people looked for them in the morning, and I knew, in some bit of a way, it bucked them up.

I did as much as I could, but it weren’t like I could get everyone something every night. That seemed like the cruelest part. I tried not to think ’bout the people that woke up and rushed to the door and didn’t find nothing; it made my chest hurt.

Chapter Two

I went back to the inn to meet John a while before midnight; Edwinstowe were to the north of Nottingham and we had ground to cover to get to Castle Rock. John weren’t there yet, and I didn’t go in, just leaned against the tree and blended in.

John came out of the inn with Bess, one of the prettier, bustier wenches at Tuck’s. He were grinning and let her push him against the wall, pressing her mouth to his. Despite all the noise of the forest, I could hear every sloppy motion of the deep, open kiss. She dug her fingers in his hair, and he chuckled.

He pulled away with a wide smile. “I have to go now, m’love. Why don’t I sneak into your window later on?”

“I’ll leave the usual sign.”

He pushed her back to the inn. “Off with you, then.”

As she closed the door with a giggle, I came out from the trees. I didn’t say anything, and he just nodded with a grin and pushed away from the wall.

“No remarks?” he asked when the inn were out of sight. The road were rough beneath my shoes, and without a lamp, the clouded-over moon were the only light, shining silver and soft on the way. It were like the road we walked near every day were gone, and we were walking to a fey and foreign place instead of the sheriff’s keep. I could just bare see John.

“I suppose you want me to say what a tart she is. Or you are? But really, every time you climb in her window, you make her think that’s all she’s good for. Bess is a nice girl.”

“You must have known all sorts in London.”

I didn’t say. I don’t yap ’bout London. And besides, he didn’t answer me ’bout Bess.

“You ran out pretty quick from Tuck’s.”

“I do that when I’m being bossed ’bout,” I said, cutting a glare to him.

“So how are we getting into the castle?”

I looked up. “Good night for a climb.”

“Aw, Scar,” he moaned. “I hate climbing, and you know that. And it’s not a good night. You did that on purpose.”

I didn’t say that neither. I walked faster.

They call Nottingham Castle the Castle Rock for good reason; it’s built on a big pile of rocks. One side is sheer rocks and the other side is a series of heavy fortified baileys. Most would think that’s the way to go, but I see rocks and I can’t help but climb ’em. The rocks are the fortifications, not the walls on top. An army can’t scale rocks, can it? And castles are built to keep armies out, not thieves.

Rob used to live there, before the Crusades—and before the sheriff, with Prince John’s approval, took over the keep. They called Rob’s father a traitor after he died and said his lands were forfeit to the English Crown. It weren’t that he were a traitor in truth, but there were lands and there were no Rob here to defend them, so the Crown took what it could—and yet they call me a thief. When Rob heard his father died, he came back and found there weren’t nothing here but pain and suffering all around. While he were off defending his country, they were taking his birthright.

Rob used to be an earl, if you can believe it. It’s why he feels so particular ’bout his people, and why they feel so particular about him. Most still call him Your Grace. He’ll be an earl again when King Richard comes back for sure. Rob’s the one who taught us most of the ins and outs of the castle, but some I’ve found on my own, from listening and watching and general poking round.

“Scar?” I heard in the distance. I looked down. John weren’t far up at all. “Don’t go so fast.”

I smiled. “I’ll wait for you at the top.” ’Course, I weren’t honestly going to the top. Three quarters up there were a secret entrance. But he didn’t need to know that; I could get in and out with Freddy before he would even be up there.

Climbing up were quick and steady by the bright light of the moon, making the handholds gleam like the moon were pointing them out to me. There were a big rock overhanging the tunnel entrance, hiding it from sight, and I scrambled under. From there it would all be dark and lightless, but that were well enough—I had no need to see the crawlers hiding in the rock.