People started crowding round me. The Clarkes, the Morgan girls, the Percy family, everyone I’d known for years. Touching me, like all of the sudden they thought well of me. Like they’d missed me. It jumbled inside of me, with hurt and confusion and wonder that maybe that were the way of it—maybe they missed me. Maybe they loved me.
Allan set right about greeting the people he knew, and David waited for me to introduce him round, with a stern frown at Rob, who were still holding me close to him.
Robin were there, looking at me strange. People were all talking at once, and I felt so overtaken by all of it.
My people. They were my people now, in a way that had always been true but never so exact. I weren’t this strange hero-thief that they misremembered. I were their lady now.
And they were hurt, and sad, and frightened.
“Will you tell us what happened?” David asked, coming into the clearing.
“Sit,” Rob said over the din. “We can all eat together, and we’ll tell you.”
Rob took my hand and it felt like an anchor on rough seas. He tugged me toward the big cave; when we used to make this our shelter, we’d had one log chopped and laid out to sit on, and they’d brought more down so many more people could sit. It were near enough, and the children clumped together, bumping into one another, torn between playing or seeing what all the fuss were about. Their mothers sent them off to play. It were just as well. From the state of Nottingham, they didn’t need to hear what had happened.
We sat on the log, and Rob let my hand go to sit, but I threaded my fingers back through his. His eyes met mine, shadowed but smiling.
His smile faded. “Prince John came through many days ago, and gave an urgent call for the knights of the shire to aid him in collecting the king’s ransom. The knights went. Two days later, men on horseback came at dawn. Their only goal was destruction, and they made neat work of it.” Rob’s throat worked.
“Were they knights?” I asked.
“Yes and no,” Rob said. “I’m fairly certain they were the same men, but they weren’t wearing colors or armor. Our few remaining knights tried to keep them out of the gate. It didn’t work, but it bought enough time, and people flooded to the castle, thinking I would be able to protect them there. The men started to burn the city, and then they came for the castle.”
“He got people out through the tunnel,” Much told me.
“The tunnel? I thought they blocked that,” I said, looking at Rob.
He lifted a shoulder. “Not well. I opened it while I was sheriff.”
My mouth tightened. Why would he have done that? I couldn’t guess, but it felt like it had something to do with me. With me being away from him.
“He sent word to me,” Much said. “And I got everyone from the villages to the forest before they could come for their homes too.”
People squished closer to one another at this, like being close would prevent it from being true. Or maybe from happening again. Or both.
“Who were the people on the battlements?” David asked soft.
“Two of the knights that remained,” Rob said. “The others were just people that didn’t come to the castle fast enough.” He shook his head, looking grim. “They just killed whoever they could get their hands on. Like life meant nothing to them.”
“They didn’t get their hands on many,” said another voice, coming through the gathered people. “Thanks to you, Sheriff.”
People moved aside to let Bess through, and I saw why. She were heavy with child, big and round and slow in the way she walked. Much stood, taking her hand and guiding her to him, and when she were close enough, he kissed her cheek. She gave him a gentle smile and sat down. He sat beside her, and she moved closer to him, leaning into his form.
Much’s eyes closed for a moment, like it were a joy to have her close to him. And then they opened, and looked at me. “You remember Bess, Scar?”
Loosing Rob’s hand, I stood and knelt by her so I could hug her. She touched my back to do it, and I stiffened but didn’t pull away. “You look—you’re . . .” I couldn’t. I had no words to say to her, when all I could see when I looked at her were John, dead in the snow.
“I’m Bess Miller now,” she told me. She fished a simple ring on a thread from around her neck with a smile. “I used to wear it on my finger but my fingers have gotten fat,” she told me, holding her hand up like I could tell it were thicker. I couldn’t.
Much took her hand, smiling at her, and it took me a breath to remember Miller were Much’s family name. She were Much’s wife. Much, who were bare a man. “Congratulations,” I said, stunned.
She covered my hand with a watery smile. “Thank you, Scarlet.”
“I’m sorry . . . I wish I had been here for the wedding,” I said, looking to Much.
He shrugged, and his throat worked. “You were dead, Scarlet,” he said. “Everyone said for months that you were. You’re not, and that’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”
“We have had enough of death,” Bess said. “Scarlet, please tell us your story. You cheated Death.”
A stone settled inside my chest, and I could bare breathe around it. Cheated Death—no, I brought death straight to their doors.