The Way Back

Chapter Three

They stabled the horses in Clun, and returned from there on foot.

York had been a disaster. They had no Archer, he no mount; he was lucky, in fact, to escape with his neck. Archer, brother or not, had disappeared with plans of his own, and on Guy's horse. But Guy couldn't summon too much ill-will for this: Archer's had been one of the arrows severing his noose. The other had been Robin's.

They'd stolen him a horse.

He didn't mind being left behind, slowed by riding boots acquired in the same manner. None of the gang knew what to make of him, except Allan. He'd earned grudging approval from John, saving his life in York. The manservant kept a close eye on him, not trusting him anywhere near his precious Robin. Kate would never come round, but Guy didn't care. In fact, he didn't really care what any of them thought - not while he had Meg, sweet Meg.

Sweet Meg? Look at you now, dirty, miserable and alone. And about to be executed.
You always were a bit pleased with yourself.
Doesn't it bother you that nobody seems to care that you're on the way out?

At least she'd always tell him the truth. He smiled and quickened his pace. Allan intercepted him when he was near the camp.

"Stop for a snooze, Giz?"

Guy felt the familiar surge of annoyance, but held his tongue.

"Just in time for Much's squirrel stew."

"You're joking..."

"It can be quite tasty, but don't tell Much. I know, it's not what you're used to at Locksley. You'll find things are different here. We have to get by with whatever we can find."

"Better than dungeon fare."

They walked on in silence, leaves scrunching underfoot, until Allan stopped and turned to face Guy.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't know what I'm going to say!" Allan protested.

"I can guess. And the answer is no, the subject's closed."

"Robin will want to know, one day."

"Perhaps," allowed Guy. "Then he can ask me. But he won't."

"I reckon you owe me, after all we went through. And you loved her, I know you did!"

"I owe you nothing," snapped Guy. "You ran out on us!"

"I had to, did it to save Robin. I'd do it again."

It flickered again, that old envy, his resentment for the loyalty Hood inspired. What made everyone love him? Reliving the past with Malcolm Locksley had brought back old hurts, had reminded him that the youthful Robin hadn't been especially honourable or trustworthy. He still carried himself with infuriating cockiness, and took his gang for granted. But Guy had something of an answer now: in four short, urgent words - "he's one of us" – rasped out as Kate held her  blade above him. And then in an arrow, piercing a noose, in York.

Now Allan was staring him down. Their roles had switched here, Guy the outsider and Allan not afraid to let him know it.

"I wish you'd taken her with you," he muttered, pushing past. Then, "Are you going to stand there all day?" he grated over his shoulder.

Allan followed. They were close to camp, the aroma of cooking permeated the air. Why did I never look for it at this time of day? Not only smells, in the stillness of dusk voices carried. Guy recognised Meg's as she argued with someone.

"You don't know anything about him. How can you be so blind?" Kate was almost shouting.

"I know enough."