The Wolf's Head: Part 8
Title: The Wolf's Head
Author: corrielle
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/characters: Guy, Djaq, Marian, Allan, John, Will, and Robin. Guy/Marian-ish
Word count: 3,957
Summary: The Wolf's Head and his men go after their greatest prize yet.
Notes: Many thanks to endcredits, who graciously agreed to be my beta at short notice and gave me both excellent advice and much-needed encouragement. Also, this story probably wouldn't be here without my girlfriend Rae, who read it first.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to legend and the BBC, and I make no profit from this work.
Previously: Part 7
Part 8
Four days before All Hallows Eve, Guy found a strip of blue cloth tied to one of the oak's blackened branches, and when the sun set that day, he and his companions were waiting by the blasted tree. Marian did not keep them waiting long, and she raised her hand in greeting as she approached. She looked at the other outlaws uneasily at first, as if surprised that Guy had brought them with him.
"If you have news for me, they need to hear it too," Guy said by way of explanation.
"Very well then," Marian said. She sat down on a gnarled root, and Guy stood next to her. "The Sheriff plans a feast for All Hallows…" she began.
"As he does every year," Guy reminded her.
"Yes, but this feast will be different," she said. "This year, he plans to give a gift of great value to one of his most loyal supporters."
"What's the gift?" Allan asked, suddenly more interested than he had been.
"I'm getting there," Marian said, holding up her hand to tell him to be patient. "Do you remember Lord Southwell?" she asked Guy.
"Well enough," Guy said. Southwell was a sycophantic little man who spoke up in support of the Sheriff's policies loudly and often, simply because it was expedient. He had always seemed harmless enough, and Guy had never paid him much attention.
"He and the Sheriff have been thick as thieves since you left, and he commands considerable attention in the Council. And so, to reward him for his loyalty, the Sheriff plans to recognize him with a toast when the feast is done, and to give him…" She paused for dramatic affect, and every single one of the outlaws leaned forward to catch her next words.
"Thirty polished emeralds, each one worth a small fortune."
Allan's eyes grew wide, and he whistled appreciatively. "Lord Southwell's a lucky man," he said.
"I was thinking that, with the Night Watchman's help, it might be your luck instead," Marian said.
"Steal the emeralds right out from under him," Will said, smiling at the idea.
"How?" John asked abruptly. He was the only one of them not impressed in the slightest by the richness of the prize at stake. "This stinks of a trap. The Sheriff's not the generous sort, and yet he's giving away a king's ransom to this Southwell? He knows. And he will be waiting for us to try and take it."
"It is true that the Sheriff has ordered the guard to be doubled on the night of the feast," Marian said, "but I am sure we can find a way around them."
"And what would that be?" Allan asked, shaking his head. "Are you expecting them to fall asleep and let us walk right by them?" It was obvious that Allan found the idea absurd, but Djaq apparently did not. Her face lit up as if Allan had just given her the answer.
"There are several herbs that, in the right quantity, will put a grown man into a deep sleep," she said.
"That's good," Guy said, the plan taking shape as he spoke. "We'll need as much as you can find. Enough for fifty men."
"How do we get this sleeping potion to the guards?" Will asked.
"The toast," Guy told him. "Every year, the Sheriff allows his soldiers a cup of wine on All Hallows Eve to drink with the rest of the guests. It keeps the men from grumbling that they're working while the rest of the city celebrates, and Vasey knows that one cup of wine won't keep them from their duty."
"But wine laced with sleeping draught…" Djaq said, seeing where Guy was going. The two of them grinned at each other like unruly children.
"And who gets the herb into the kitchens?" John asked, still skeptical.
"That will be my job," Marian said. She saw that Guy was about to protest, and she cut him off before he could say anything. "Any of you would be out of place there, and it will be busy. You cannot avoid being seen. I am known in the castle, and no one will question my presence."
She looked at Guy expectantly, as if waiting for him to argue with her, but instead, he said, "Fine. Make sure that you mix it in to the right drink. The Sheriff does not spend more than he has to on his soldiers' comfort. The less costly wine will be theirs." As much as he hated to admit it, Marian was right. None of them would have been able to move about the castle with such ease, and he supposed that there wasn't too much risk involved.
"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" Allan said, rubbing his hands together.
"The Sheriff will look like a fool, and Allan can write another song," Will said.
"'The Ballad of the Stolen Emeralds,'" Allan said with a melodramatic sweep of his cloak. And as Marian left them and they started towards home, Guy suspected that Allan was writing pieces of it already.
#####
On the afternoon of All Hallows Eve, while the outlaws were preparing to sneak into the castle, Will pulled Guy aside.
"I have something for you," Will said, reaching for an object on the work bench he had set up in one corner of the cottage. "People call you the Wolf's Head, so I thought that you should look it. Here." He handed Guy a leather mask, and as Guy turned it over in his hands, he saw that it was the face of a wolf. The cut of the eyes gave it a predatory look, it had two triangular points at the top for ears, and it was shaped along the bottom to mimic the slender lines of a wolf's muzzle. The nose extended just a little longer than it should have, and Will had covered the whole thing with delicate embossing that suggested fur.
"Try it. See if it fits," Will urged.
There were already leather ties hanging from either side of the mask, and Guy slowly put it up to his face and secured it behind his head. Will had done a fine job, for it fit snugly on Guy's features without being uncomfortable. He could see clearly, and it felt right to be wearing it. The people had been calling him the Wolf's Head for months, but now, for the first time, he truly felt the name was his own.
"It suits you," Will told him.
"This is a fine gift," Guy said, running his fingers over the leather.
Will shrugged, humble as always. "Just something I'd been working on. I thought tonight might be a good time to give it to you. It is our first appearance at the castle."
"And we shall do our best to make a good impression," Guy said, smiling like a hunter who had just scented his prey.
#####
They entered the castle one by one. Will and Allan went first, hidden in a group of servants who were returning from the market. John gave a farmer two gold coins to let him and Djaq drive the man's wagon full of apples through the gate, and Guy slipped through while the guards were arguing with a butcher over payment for meat brought for the feast.
Once inside, there was little for Guy to do but wait. He needed to keep out of the way of the servants who were setting up tables and decorations in the courtyard, and so he carefully let himself inside through a servants' entrance and climbed up to the upper level of the castle. There were fewer people there, though Guy did have to hide around a corner several times while harried serving maids bustled through the corridors carrying linens and bedclothes for the Sheriff's guests.
He did not quite know where he was going until he arrived at the door of the chamber that had once been his. It was not one of the better rooms in the castle, but it had been spacious and private. He listened for a moment, and when he heard no movement inside, he rapped lightly on the heavy wooden door. No one answered, and so Guy gave the door a push. It was not locked. Glancing down the corridor one last time, he stepped inside.
Everything of value was gone, of course-the heavy chest filled with gold that had stood in the corner, the tapestry with the hunters and the white stag that had hung on the wall, and the silver candlesticks and inkwell that had sat on the table were nowhere to be seen. Guy ran his finger over the mantle, and it came away covered in dust. The room had not been cleaned in months, and Guy doubted that anyone had been in it since the Sheriff had confiscated his belongings. It was the perfect place to hide. He pulled a chair up to one side of the window and sat down to watch the preparations for the feast down below.
At sunset, servants came to light the torches that ringed the courtyard, and soon the tables were filled with nobles, wealthy merchants, and their families, all dressed in their finest. The Sheriff and Lord Southwell sat at the head table. In the seat that should have been Guy's, there was a tall, blocky man Guy had never seen before. The company feasted on roasted meat, fresh bread made with grain from the recent harvest, and ripe fruits from Nottingham's orchards, and Guy's stomach rumbled at the good smells rising up to the room in the tower where he hid.
When the kitchen staff began to clear away the dishes from the meal, Guy snuck back out into the hallway and made his way down to the courtyard. Though the torches lit the center where the tables were, there were plenty of corners and shadows that remained in darkness for him to hide in. Soon, serving women with wine in silver pitchers were moving among the castle guests, filling their cups for the toast. The guards, too, were given their drink, laughing with the pretty girls who served them. Guy watched carefully as each guard had his cup filled. He did not know if Marian had been successful in drugging the wine, but he had no choice to trust that she had. If she had not, their venture would be a short-lived one.
When all of the guests had been served, the Sheriff rose from his seat. He was dressed in a blood-red doublet, a maroon shirt, and black breeches. Guy was not sure he believed in such things, but the Sheriff looked very much like one of the evil spirits the villagers feared were abroad on All Hallows Eve. And when he flashed an insincere, toothy smile at the assembled nobles, the likeness was even more startling.
"Good people," the Sheriff began, "it was very kind of you to come to our little party tonight…"
"Hear hear!" someone yelled drunkenly. Vasey waited for a moment through the smattering of applause that followed, nodding magnanimously at the recognition.
"I ask that all of you join me in raising a glass to the King, may he stay safe in the Holy Land as he fights for England and our precious faith," the Sheriff continued when the noise had died down. He said it as quickly, as if by rote, and he drank with little enthusiasm. Some of the guards, Guy noticed, drank with more gusto, but that was perhaps because it was the first wine they had been allowed all night.
"And now, let us turn our attention to one who stayed at home. Not because he was not willing to fight for his God or his king, but because he knew that with so many of our finest men away, his loyalty and wisdom would be needed here." Vasey motioned for Lord Southwell to rise, and he did so, acknowledging the company with a perfunctory nod. "Let us drink to my friend Lord Southwell's health, ladies and gentlemen. By his many services to me, he serves you, and he serves England."
The company drank amidst scattered cheers this time, and many of the guards downed the rest of the wine in their cups. Guy watched them closely for signs of drowsiness. Djaq had said the drug might not take effect immediately, and Guy hoped that Vasey was long-winded enough to give it time to work.
"It is unfortunate but true," the Sheriff said over the clatter of two hundred cups being set on tables at once, "that many times, virtue must be its own reward, that loyalty goes unrecognized, and good work goes unnoticed." He held out his hand, and a servant who had been standing by his chair gave him a small leather pouch. "Let it never be said, however, that this is true in Nottingham." He closed his fist around the pouch's drawstrings and thrust his arm out toward the crowed for effect. All eyes were on the Sheriff, and no one saw that one of the guards who had been standing against the wall was now leaning against it with his chin resting on his chest and his spear on the ground at his side.
There was a flash of movement at a window to the side of the courtyard, and Guy looked up to see Will Scarlett there. Will saw him as well and nodded slightly. This meant the rest of the outlaws were in position, and when the moment was right, they would be ready. Guy began to creep along the wall until he was even with the Sheriff's table, stepping over sleeping guards as he went.
"I want it to be known that this is how I reward my true friends," Vasey said. "And so I am presenting Lord Southwell here with this small token of my appreciation-emeralds from the Orient, one for each day of the month during which he serves me well."
There were gasps of astonishment from the crowd. All of them were wealthy, but the small bag in the Sheriff's hands was still worth more money than most of them could ever hope to gain by honest means, and behind the polite applause, Guy could see envy written clearly on their faces.
Just as the Sheriff was about to hand the pouch to Southwell, an arrow flew through the air, passing inches from their hands, and struck the table, where it quivered for a moment before growing still. The Sheriff's head snapped up, following the path of the arrow up to the battlements.
"It's the Night Watchman!" someone shouted, and sure enough, the familiar hooded figure was running along the top of the castle wall. Everyone in the courtyard craned their necks to see him. With everyone's attention on what was going on above them, no one noticed Guy dashing through the courtyard until he had already jumped onto the platform that raised the head table above all the rest.
The Sheriff's fingers were still tightly wrapped around the pouch's strings, and when he saw Guy in his wolf's mask standing before him with his sword drawn. He regarded Guy with sharp eyes. For a moment, Guy was worried that somehow, Vasey might have recognized him, but then, the Sheriff laughed.
"An unexpected guest, ladies and gentleman! It seems the Wolf's Head himself has deigned to join us tonight, as well," Vasey said, then he raised his voice and shouted, "Guards!"
The entire courtyard was still for a moment, as if everyone were waiting to hear the tramp of booted feet, but no one came. Several seconds passed, and the crowd began to whisper restlessly. Guy held his sword up to the Sheriff's throat.
"Looks like your men are asleep on the job, Sheriff," Allan's voice came from the far end of the table, and Vasey turned his head slightly toward the sound. Allan was standing at the edge of the platform, grinning and pointing at one of the sleeping guards. There were muffled screeches from the crowd as Djaq, Will, John, and the Night Watchman all revealed themselves at various places around the courtyard, weapons drawn. Guy held his hand out, and the Sheriff, wrinkling his nose in disgust, turned the pouch over to him.
The instant that Guy lowered his sword, the tall stranger sitting on the Sheriff's left sprung into action, drawing the sword hanging at his side as he rushed at Guy. Whoever the man was, he was quick and ruthless and well-trained. They fought down the center of the courtyard, nobles and merchants hurriedly vacating their tables to get out of the way of their blades.
"Kill the Wolf's Head for me, Bollen, and one of those emeralds is yours!" the Sheriff shouted. Lord Southwell turned a little pale at the promise, but he did not object. With time, Guy thought he could have been more than a match for his opponent, but they needed to get away now, before the shock wore off and some of the nobles who knew how to wield a sword decided to join in the fight. So, Guy gave up ground, drawing the man the Sheriff had called Bollen toward the wall near the gate. Thinking that he sensed weakness, Bollen attacked with more force than ever, and, assuming he had Guy cornered, he did not see John or the staff that knocked his legs out from under him until it was too late. He landed on his back, and John and Guy ran for the gate.
All was confusion in the courtyard now, and just as Guy and John were about to run out the open gate, Djaq met them and quickly shook her head, leading them into one of the column-lined corridors that encircled the castle gardens. Allan was already waiting there.
"Let me see them" Djaq said urgently once they were sure that no one was pursuing them. "Let me see the emeralds."
"Now?" Guy asked. He hadn't intended to open the pouch until they were safely back at the cottage.
"Please. Trust me." Djaq said. "We don't have much time."
Guy handed the small bag to her, and she untied the knot and poured some of the stones out in her hand. Allan reached for one and held it up with a skeptical look on his face.
"I told you so, didn't I?" Allan said.
"It was a trick," Djaq explained. "These are not emeralds. These are pebbles."
She poured the rest of them into Guy's hand, and he let the smooth little rocks fall through his fingers.
"Damn it," he whispered angrily. The rest of them did not seem shocked by his profanity.
"I always thought it would be stupid to have something worth that much out in the open," Allan said. "The real gems are probably hidden somewhere safe."
"If they exist at all," John said.
"The emeralds are real enough," Guy insisted. "Southwell may be a flatterer, but he's canny, too. He wouldn't let the Sheriff get away with pretending to give him emeralds. He'd want the proof of his favored status."
"Does Southwell have rooms in the castle?" Djaq asked.
"He does tonight," Guy said. "I'll start in the guest wing. The rest of you, spread out. Find Will. Tell him what happened, and start looking for guards posted in front of doors where there should be none. Djaq, how much time do we have before our wine wears off?"
"An hour, two at the most," she told him.
"Then we'll be sure to be gone before then," Guy said, and he took off in the direction of the Sheriff's finest guest chambers.
#####
The halls of the castle were filled with people-mostly frightened servants leading frightened wealthy men to the relative safety of their rooms-and Guy had to be quick to avoid them when they passed by. He did not think any of them would try to fight him, but they would probably make a great deal of noise.
There was no doubt that the luxurious rooms near the Sheriff's own had been assigned to Southwell, but there was no sign of the man when Guy entered. Quickly, he searched the chest at the end of the bed and the wardrobe. He threw back the covers on the beds and felt all of the pillows, and still he found nothing. Guy was beginning to think that perhaps the Sheriff and Southwell had indeed outwitted him when the door to the room swung open. Guy had his sword out and ready, but it was only Allan who stepped inside.
"We found someone you might want to talk to," Allan said. "Come on."
Guy followed Allan down one flight of stairs, then another. They had reached the cellar of the castle when the came upon Djaq, Will, and John standing over a terrified merchant. He was a thin man with a ring on each finger of both hands.
"Who's this?" Guy asked.
"This," Djaq said, "is the Sheriff's jeweler."
"The one who provided him with Southwell's emeralds," Will added.
"I see." Guy knelt by the jeweler's side. "Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. We know this bag was a decoy." He held up the pouch he had taken from the Sheriff earlier. "But I think you know where the real ones are. The Sheriff and Southwell probably had you keep them safe until after All Hallows." He leaned forward threateningly, and the jeweler flinched. "Tell us where they are, and we'll let you go on your way."
"The Sheriff will kill me," the jeweler said.
"But the Sheriff is not here right now. I am. And I will break your fingers if you don't speak. We'll see how well you can do your work then." It was a cruel threat, and Guy knew it, but he would not leave the castle having put all of them in danger for nothing. The jeweler pursed his lips, shook his head, and refused to talk. "John, give me your staff," Guy said.
John handed the thick length of wood to him, and the man they had captured broke.
"In my workshop!" he hissed. "The emeralds are locked in an iron box in my workshop in the city."
"You're going to take us there," Guy said. "Quietly."
"Has the Sheriff paid you for the emeralds?" Will asked. The jeweler nodded.
"Good," Guy said. "Then we steal from him, not from you."
Djaq and Will hauled the man to his feet, and they forced him to walk in between them as they wound through the cellars.
"Here," Guy said at last as they rounded a corner into a low-beamed room that smelled of earth and grain. "There's a trap door in the ceiling that opens from the inside. It lets out into a courtyard outside the castle walls where the farmers bring their grain tributes."
"I know the spot," Will said, and he climbed up on top of the bags of grain that were piled under the trap door and unlatched the door. Quickly, he scrambled out. He returned a few moments later and said, "It's safe. Come on." One by one, Will helped them pull themselves out of the cellar. The jeweler had the most difficulty, but even he finally hauled himself over the lip of the trap door into the small courtyard.
"Lead the way," Guy said to their prisoner once all of them were out. Sighing, the jeweler picked himself up from the ground and started walking down one of the narrow streets that led into the city.
Next: Part 9
Author: corrielle
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/characters: Guy, Djaq, Marian, Allan, John, Will, and Robin. Guy/Marian-ish
Word count: 3,957
Summary: The Wolf's Head and his men go after their greatest prize yet.
Notes: Many thanks to endcredits, who graciously agreed to be my beta at short notice and gave me both excellent advice and much-needed encouragement. Also, this story probably wouldn't be here without my girlfriend Rae, who read it first.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to legend and the BBC, and I make no profit from this work.
Previously: Part 7
Part 8
Four days before All Hallows Eve, Guy found a strip of blue cloth tied to one of the oak's blackened branches, and when the sun set that day, he and his companions were waiting by the blasted tree. Marian did not keep them waiting long, and she raised her hand in greeting as she approached. She looked at the other outlaws uneasily at first, as if surprised that Guy had brought them with him.
"If you have news for me, they need to hear it too," Guy said by way of explanation.
"Very well then," Marian said. She sat down on a gnarled root, and Guy stood next to her. "The Sheriff plans a feast for All Hallows…" she began.
"As he does every year," Guy reminded her.
"Yes, but this feast will be different," she said. "This year, he plans to give a gift of great value to one of his most loyal supporters."
"What's the gift?" Allan asked, suddenly more interested than he had been.
"I'm getting there," Marian said, holding up her hand to tell him to be patient. "Do you remember Lord Southwell?" she asked Guy.
"Well enough," Guy said. Southwell was a sycophantic little man who spoke up in support of the Sheriff's policies loudly and often, simply because it was expedient. He had always seemed harmless enough, and Guy had never paid him much attention.
"He and the Sheriff have been thick as thieves since you left, and he commands considerable attention in the Council. And so, to reward him for his loyalty, the Sheriff plans to recognize him with a toast when the feast is done, and to give him…" She paused for dramatic affect, and every single one of the outlaws leaned forward to catch her next words.
"Thirty polished emeralds, each one worth a small fortune."
Allan's eyes grew wide, and he whistled appreciatively. "Lord Southwell's a lucky man," he said.
"I was thinking that, with the Night Watchman's help, it might be your luck instead," Marian said.
"Steal the emeralds right out from under him," Will said, smiling at the idea.
"How?" John asked abruptly. He was the only one of them not impressed in the slightest by the richness of the prize at stake. "This stinks of a trap. The Sheriff's not the generous sort, and yet he's giving away a king's ransom to this Southwell? He knows. And he will be waiting for us to try and take it."
"It is true that the Sheriff has ordered the guard to be doubled on the night of the feast," Marian said, "but I am sure we can find a way around them."
"And what would that be?" Allan asked, shaking his head. "Are you expecting them to fall asleep and let us walk right by them?" It was obvious that Allan found the idea absurd, but Djaq apparently did not. Her face lit up as if Allan had just given her the answer.
"There are several herbs that, in the right quantity, will put a grown man into a deep sleep," she said.
"That's good," Guy said, the plan taking shape as he spoke. "We'll need as much as you can find. Enough for fifty men."
"How do we get this sleeping potion to the guards?" Will asked.
"The toast," Guy told him. "Every year, the Sheriff allows his soldiers a cup of wine on All Hallows Eve to drink with the rest of the guests. It keeps the men from grumbling that they're working while the rest of the city celebrates, and Vasey knows that one cup of wine won't keep them from their duty."
"But wine laced with sleeping draught…" Djaq said, seeing where Guy was going. The two of them grinned at each other like unruly children.
"And who gets the herb into the kitchens?" John asked, still skeptical.
"That will be my job," Marian said. She saw that Guy was about to protest, and she cut him off before he could say anything. "Any of you would be out of place there, and it will be busy. You cannot avoid being seen. I am known in the castle, and no one will question my presence."
She looked at Guy expectantly, as if waiting for him to argue with her, but instead, he said, "Fine. Make sure that you mix it in to the right drink. The Sheriff does not spend more than he has to on his soldiers' comfort. The less costly wine will be theirs." As much as he hated to admit it, Marian was right. None of them would have been able to move about the castle with such ease, and he supposed that there wasn't too much risk involved.
"We're really going to do this, aren't we?" Allan said, rubbing his hands together.
"The Sheriff will look like a fool, and Allan can write another song," Will said.
"'The Ballad of the Stolen Emeralds,'" Allan said with a melodramatic sweep of his cloak. And as Marian left them and they started towards home, Guy suspected that Allan was writing pieces of it already.
#####
On the afternoon of All Hallows Eve, while the outlaws were preparing to sneak into the castle, Will pulled Guy aside.
"I have something for you," Will said, reaching for an object on the work bench he had set up in one corner of the cottage. "People call you the Wolf's Head, so I thought that you should look it. Here." He handed Guy a leather mask, and as Guy turned it over in his hands, he saw that it was the face of a wolf. The cut of the eyes gave it a predatory look, it had two triangular points at the top for ears, and it was shaped along the bottom to mimic the slender lines of a wolf's muzzle. The nose extended just a little longer than it should have, and Will had covered the whole thing with delicate embossing that suggested fur.
"Try it. See if it fits," Will urged.
There were already leather ties hanging from either side of the mask, and Guy slowly put it up to his face and secured it behind his head. Will had done a fine job, for it fit snugly on Guy's features without being uncomfortable. He could see clearly, and it felt right to be wearing it. The people had been calling him the Wolf's Head for months, but now, for the first time, he truly felt the name was his own.
"It suits you," Will told him.
"This is a fine gift," Guy said, running his fingers over the leather.
Will shrugged, humble as always. "Just something I'd been working on. I thought tonight might be a good time to give it to you. It is our first appearance at the castle."
"And we shall do our best to make a good impression," Guy said, smiling like a hunter who had just scented his prey.
#####
They entered the castle one by one. Will and Allan went first, hidden in a group of servants who were returning from the market. John gave a farmer two gold coins to let him and Djaq drive the man's wagon full of apples through the gate, and Guy slipped through while the guards were arguing with a butcher over payment for meat brought for the feast.
Once inside, there was little for Guy to do but wait. He needed to keep out of the way of the servants who were setting up tables and decorations in the courtyard, and so he carefully let himself inside through a servants' entrance and climbed up to the upper level of the castle. There were fewer people there, though Guy did have to hide around a corner several times while harried serving maids bustled through the corridors carrying linens and bedclothes for the Sheriff's guests.
He did not quite know where he was going until he arrived at the door of the chamber that had once been his. It was not one of the better rooms in the castle, but it had been spacious and private. He listened for a moment, and when he heard no movement inside, he rapped lightly on the heavy wooden door. No one answered, and so Guy gave the door a push. It was not locked. Glancing down the corridor one last time, he stepped inside.
Everything of value was gone, of course-the heavy chest filled with gold that had stood in the corner, the tapestry with the hunters and the white stag that had hung on the wall, and the silver candlesticks and inkwell that had sat on the table were nowhere to be seen. Guy ran his finger over the mantle, and it came away covered in dust. The room had not been cleaned in months, and Guy doubted that anyone had been in it since the Sheriff had confiscated his belongings. It was the perfect place to hide. He pulled a chair up to one side of the window and sat down to watch the preparations for the feast down below.
At sunset, servants came to light the torches that ringed the courtyard, and soon the tables were filled with nobles, wealthy merchants, and their families, all dressed in their finest. The Sheriff and Lord Southwell sat at the head table. In the seat that should have been Guy's, there was a tall, blocky man Guy had never seen before. The company feasted on roasted meat, fresh bread made with grain from the recent harvest, and ripe fruits from Nottingham's orchards, and Guy's stomach rumbled at the good smells rising up to the room in the tower where he hid.
When the kitchen staff began to clear away the dishes from the meal, Guy snuck back out into the hallway and made his way down to the courtyard. Though the torches lit the center where the tables were, there were plenty of corners and shadows that remained in darkness for him to hide in. Soon, serving women with wine in silver pitchers were moving among the castle guests, filling their cups for the toast. The guards, too, were given their drink, laughing with the pretty girls who served them. Guy watched carefully as each guard had his cup filled. He did not know if Marian had been successful in drugging the wine, but he had no choice to trust that she had. If she had not, their venture would be a short-lived one.
When all of the guests had been served, the Sheriff rose from his seat. He was dressed in a blood-red doublet, a maroon shirt, and black breeches. Guy was not sure he believed in such things, but the Sheriff looked very much like one of the evil spirits the villagers feared were abroad on All Hallows Eve. And when he flashed an insincere, toothy smile at the assembled nobles, the likeness was even more startling.
"Good people," the Sheriff began, "it was very kind of you to come to our little party tonight…"
"Hear hear!" someone yelled drunkenly. Vasey waited for a moment through the smattering of applause that followed, nodding magnanimously at the recognition.
"I ask that all of you join me in raising a glass to the King, may he stay safe in the Holy Land as he fights for England and our precious faith," the Sheriff continued when the noise had died down. He said it as quickly, as if by rote, and he drank with little enthusiasm. Some of the guards, Guy noticed, drank with more gusto, but that was perhaps because it was the first wine they had been allowed all night.
"And now, let us turn our attention to one who stayed at home. Not because he was not willing to fight for his God or his king, but because he knew that with so many of our finest men away, his loyalty and wisdom would be needed here." Vasey motioned for Lord Southwell to rise, and he did so, acknowledging the company with a perfunctory nod. "Let us drink to my friend Lord Southwell's health, ladies and gentlemen. By his many services to me, he serves you, and he serves England."
The company drank amidst scattered cheers this time, and many of the guards downed the rest of the wine in their cups. Guy watched them closely for signs of drowsiness. Djaq had said the drug might not take effect immediately, and Guy hoped that Vasey was long-winded enough to give it time to work.
"It is unfortunate but true," the Sheriff said over the clatter of two hundred cups being set on tables at once, "that many times, virtue must be its own reward, that loyalty goes unrecognized, and good work goes unnoticed." He held out his hand, and a servant who had been standing by his chair gave him a small leather pouch. "Let it never be said, however, that this is true in Nottingham." He closed his fist around the pouch's drawstrings and thrust his arm out toward the crowed for effect. All eyes were on the Sheriff, and no one saw that one of the guards who had been standing against the wall was now leaning against it with his chin resting on his chest and his spear on the ground at his side.
There was a flash of movement at a window to the side of the courtyard, and Guy looked up to see Will Scarlett there. Will saw him as well and nodded slightly. This meant the rest of the outlaws were in position, and when the moment was right, they would be ready. Guy began to creep along the wall until he was even with the Sheriff's table, stepping over sleeping guards as he went.
"I want it to be known that this is how I reward my true friends," Vasey said. "And so I am presenting Lord Southwell here with this small token of my appreciation-emeralds from the Orient, one for each day of the month during which he serves me well."
There were gasps of astonishment from the crowd. All of them were wealthy, but the small bag in the Sheriff's hands was still worth more money than most of them could ever hope to gain by honest means, and behind the polite applause, Guy could see envy written clearly on their faces.
Just as the Sheriff was about to hand the pouch to Southwell, an arrow flew through the air, passing inches from their hands, and struck the table, where it quivered for a moment before growing still. The Sheriff's head snapped up, following the path of the arrow up to the battlements.
"It's the Night Watchman!" someone shouted, and sure enough, the familiar hooded figure was running along the top of the castle wall. Everyone in the courtyard craned their necks to see him. With everyone's attention on what was going on above them, no one noticed Guy dashing through the courtyard until he had already jumped onto the platform that raised the head table above all the rest.
The Sheriff's fingers were still tightly wrapped around the pouch's strings, and when he saw Guy in his wolf's mask standing before him with his sword drawn. He regarded Guy with sharp eyes. For a moment, Guy was worried that somehow, Vasey might have recognized him, but then, the Sheriff laughed.
"An unexpected guest, ladies and gentleman! It seems the Wolf's Head himself has deigned to join us tonight, as well," Vasey said, then he raised his voice and shouted, "Guards!"
The entire courtyard was still for a moment, as if everyone were waiting to hear the tramp of booted feet, but no one came. Several seconds passed, and the crowd began to whisper restlessly. Guy held his sword up to the Sheriff's throat.
"Looks like your men are asleep on the job, Sheriff," Allan's voice came from the far end of the table, and Vasey turned his head slightly toward the sound. Allan was standing at the edge of the platform, grinning and pointing at one of the sleeping guards. There were muffled screeches from the crowd as Djaq, Will, John, and the Night Watchman all revealed themselves at various places around the courtyard, weapons drawn. Guy held his hand out, and the Sheriff, wrinkling his nose in disgust, turned the pouch over to him.
The instant that Guy lowered his sword, the tall stranger sitting on the Sheriff's left sprung into action, drawing the sword hanging at his side as he rushed at Guy. Whoever the man was, he was quick and ruthless and well-trained. They fought down the center of the courtyard, nobles and merchants hurriedly vacating their tables to get out of the way of their blades.
"Kill the Wolf's Head for me, Bollen, and one of those emeralds is yours!" the Sheriff shouted. Lord Southwell turned a little pale at the promise, but he did not object. With time, Guy thought he could have been more than a match for his opponent, but they needed to get away now, before the shock wore off and some of the nobles who knew how to wield a sword decided to join in the fight. So, Guy gave up ground, drawing the man the Sheriff had called Bollen toward the wall near the gate. Thinking that he sensed weakness, Bollen attacked with more force than ever, and, assuming he had Guy cornered, he did not see John or the staff that knocked his legs out from under him until it was too late. He landed on his back, and John and Guy ran for the gate.
All was confusion in the courtyard now, and just as Guy and John were about to run out the open gate, Djaq met them and quickly shook her head, leading them into one of the column-lined corridors that encircled the castle gardens. Allan was already waiting there.
"Let me see them" Djaq said urgently once they were sure that no one was pursuing them. "Let me see the emeralds."
"Now?" Guy asked. He hadn't intended to open the pouch until they were safely back at the cottage.
"Please. Trust me." Djaq said. "We don't have much time."
Guy handed the small bag to her, and she untied the knot and poured some of the stones out in her hand. Allan reached for one and held it up with a skeptical look on his face.
"I told you so, didn't I?" Allan said.
"It was a trick," Djaq explained. "These are not emeralds. These are pebbles."
She poured the rest of them into Guy's hand, and he let the smooth little rocks fall through his fingers.
"Damn it," he whispered angrily. The rest of them did not seem shocked by his profanity.
"I always thought it would be stupid to have something worth that much out in the open," Allan said. "The real gems are probably hidden somewhere safe."
"If they exist at all," John said.
"The emeralds are real enough," Guy insisted. "Southwell may be a flatterer, but he's canny, too. He wouldn't let the Sheriff get away with pretending to give him emeralds. He'd want the proof of his favored status."
"Does Southwell have rooms in the castle?" Djaq asked.
"He does tonight," Guy said. "I'll start in the guest wing. The rest of you, spread out. Find Will. Tell him what happened, and start looking for guards posted in front of doors where there should be none. Djaq, how much time do we have before our wine wears off?"
"An hour, two at the most," she told him.
"Then we'll be sure to be gone before then," Guy said, and he took off in the direction of the Sheriff's finest guest chambers.
#####
The halls of the castle were filled with people-mostly frightened servants leading frightened wealthy men to the relative safety of their rooms-and Guy had to be quick to avoid them when they passed by. He did not think any of them would try to fight him, but they would probably make a great deal of noise.
There was no doubt that the luxurious rooms near the Sheriff's own had been assigned to Southwell, but there was no sign of the man when Guy entered. Quickly, he searched the chest at the end of the bed and the wardrobe. He threw back the covers on the beds and felt all of the pillows, and still he found nothing. Guy was beginning to think that perhaps the Sheriff and Southwell had indeed outwitted him when the door to the room swung open. Guy had his sword out and ready, but it was only Allan who stepped inside.
"We found someone you might want to talk to," Allan said. "Come on."
Guy followed Allan down one flight of stairs, then another. They had reached the cellar of the castle when the came upon Djaq, Will, and John standing over a terrified merchant. He was a thin man with a ring on each finger of both hands.
"Who's this?" Guy asked.
"This," Djaq said, "is the Sheriff's jeweler."
"The one who provided him with Southwell's emeralds," Will added.
"I see." Guy knelt by the jeweler's side. "Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. We know this bag was a decoy." He held up the pouch he had taken from the Sheriff earlier. "But I think you know where the real ones are. The Sheriff and Southwell probably had you keep them safe until after All Hallows." He leaned forward threateningly, and the jeweler flinched. "Tell us where they are, and we'll let you go on your way."
"The Sheriff will kill me," the jeweler said.
"But the Sheriff is not here right now. I am. And I will break your fingers if you don't speak. We'll see how well you can do your work then." It was a cruel threat, and Guy knew it, but he would not leave the castle having put all of them in danger for nothing. The jeweler pursed his lips, shook his head, and refused to talk. "John, give me your staff," Guy said.
John handed the thick length of wood to him, and the man they had captured broke.
"In my workshop!" he hissed. "The emeralds are locked in an iron box in my workshop in the city."
"You're going to take us there," Guy said. "Quietly."
"Has the Sheriff paid you for the emeralds?" Will asked. The jeweler nodded.
"Good," Guy said. "Then we steal from him, not from you."
Djaq and Will hauled the man to his feet, and they forced him to walk in between them as they wound through the cellars.
"Here," Guy said at last as they rounded a corner into a low-beamed room that smelled of earth and grain. "There's a trap door in the ceiling that opens from the inside. It lets out into a courtyard outside the castle walls where the farmers bring their grain tributes."
"I know the spot," Will said, and he climbed up on top of the bags of grain that were piled under the trap door and unlatched the door. Quickly, he scrambled out. He returned a few moments later and said, "It's safe. Come on." One by one, Will helped them pull themselves out of the cellar. The jeweler had the most difficulty, but even he finally hauled himself over the lip of the trap door into the small courtyard.
"Lead the way," Guy said to their prisoner once all of them were out. Sighing, the jeweler picked himself up from the ground and started walking down one of the narrow streets that led into the city.
Next: Part 9