A Merry Band of Bandits

Chapter Five

A Merry Band of Bandits

Uploaded 18 December, 2011

Copyright 2011 SamRider

Chapter Five

The nearest village was quaint and undisturbed in the early morning light. A rickety sign that read "Craigsworth Pub and Inn" creaked with the slight breeze. Robin led the gang inside, the slight chatter of the first customers put Joey on edge.

"Hello," Robin said, approaching the bartender. A middle-aged, overweight woman with a stern face and dirty apron looked down on her. "We'd like some breakfast."

"D'you have money?" The woman grunted. Robin took a small sack from her coat and poured six gold coins onto the counter. The woman picked them up one by one, inspecting them, then slipped them all into her apron.

"Sit." She said, indicating the stools. Pulling out seven tall glasses, she started to fill them with pale orange juice.

"You all from 'round 'ere?" She asked, eyeing Joey's straw colored hair.

"No," Robin said. "We're traveling."

"Not e'ryday we get younguns like you 'round 'ere. Where ya from? Go on, tell ol' Helga your names."

Two large plates of eggs and three glasses of orange juice later, Joey stood with the rest to leave.

"You sure y'all don't wanna stay? You sure look like you need a bath." Helga stared them up an down, and Joey had a strange feeling she could see right through his heart and to his lies.

"No ma'am, thank you," Robin said politely, backing them out of the restaurant. Outside, she shuddered.

"That woman gave me the creeps." She muttered.

"Me too," Joey replied.

"Hey kids!" Robin called, halting them. "There's a field with a pond over there, why don't you go swim? Lexor, Rell, take care of them."

As the others ran ahead, Robin turned down the lane. They passed an apothecary and physicians outfit, a tailor and a book keep before coming to a barbershop. Strolling confidently inside, Robin held her head high and approached the storekeeper while Joey hung back.

He looked around the small shop. High backed chairs lined the walls, a sheet of metal hanging in front of each one to give a reflection. Small bottles, scissors, and combs lined the back shelf behind a smiling old man.

"Hello, kids," He said in a jolly tone. "What can I do ya for?"

"Would you have any dye, by any chance?" Robin asked sweetly, her dirt-smudged face twisted into a trusting smile.

"Why of course, what color?"

"Joey, come here, pick something."

Joey sauntered slowly up to the desk. He glanced at Robin's dark hair and thought about Klo's crazy chocolate curls.

"Brown, please."

Back in the woods, Joey fingered his new brown hair. Robin had spent hours dying it, trying to rid him of every golden lock. It had turned out not like Klo's chocolate or Robin's ebony, but like mud. At least, Joey thought, it doesn't feel like it.

Now, it was night, and Joey kept watch under a tree, a ways away from the others. They had found a new clearing far from their old one, but closer to where the soldiers slept.

Joey watched as a body stirred under the moonlight. One of the others sat up, stretching. Their face caught the moonlight; it was Robin.

She made her way over to Joey and plopped down across from him. "Can't sleep?" He whispered. She nodded slightly, watching the stars wink out through the branches.

"Do I want to know who you are?" She asked suddenly, breaking the silence. Joey let out a deep breath; he'd known this was coming.

"No. But not because I'm a bad person. It's-it's more complicated than that." Robin nodded, her eyes still trained on the sky.

"What about you?" Joey asked. "Who's Robin, besides Robin the Leader, Robin the Sister, Robin the Poor. Where'd you come from? How'd you get here?"

"A little nosy for someone who can't bear to part with his secrets." Robin grinned, then faded a little. "You really wanna know?" Joey nodded, and Robin began.

"When I was almost one, a prince was born. He was said to be the handsomest babe in all the kingdom; or so we were told. People in my village celebrated for weeks.

"But with the birth came a terrible price; three years later, my brother was born. The eighth child. Eight was an unlucky number in my village, they warned my father.

"Six days later he became gravely ill. A doctor was called but my poor family could no afford to pay him. He left.

"Another doctor was called, but he was young and inexperienced. My mother sent him away for fear of mistake.

"The last doctor was old and kind. He told my father that it was his unfortunate duty to say that he was inflicted with polio. My father died a year later.

"My mother became distraught. She could not work or eat or sleep, and soon we were all starving. One day she came home frantically pulling her hair and gnawing her nails, and with her came a horse.

"She had stolen it. Three days later, soldiers came. They took her and burned our house. Lexor and I made it out; I was eight, he was four. The last thing I saw before a soldier chased us away was flames licking the tip of my chimney. I never knew if anyone else made it out alive. But ten years later, here we are." Her voice hadn't wavered through the entire monologue, but Joey could see tears streaking down her face. "I've never told anyone before," She whispered. "And Lexor was too young too remember." She turned to Joey for the first time. "But you, you're the first one who might understand. You lost your family to fire too."

Joey felt a pang of guilt. He was disgusted with himself for lying, but he couldn't stop now. He'd be just like Richie.

"I'm sorry," He found himself whispering. "I'm so, so sorry."