CHAPTER 1
Iflung open the door and tossed a leather bag full of gold coins down on the wooden table, interrupting my father’s morning meeting. The bag burst open and several coins rolled out. The Merry Men surrounding the table whooped gleefully as Father picked up one of the coins and tossed it appreciatively in the air.
“Another success!” Will Scarlet called, and the others clamored to give their congratulations.
“Robin Hood, your daughter is just as crafty and sly as you are!” Little John said jovially to Father, slapping his back and grinning from ear to ear.
“Atta girl, Laurel! I knew we could count on you.”
I grinned. “All in a day’s work, boys, no need to thank me!” I swiveled an empty chair around and sat, tilting the chair back onto two legs and propping my boots up on the table.
Father motioned for everyone to quiet down. “What news of King Richard?” he asked me.
“Still in the Holy Land.” I polished an apple on the sleeve of my tunic and crunched into it. “And rumors are that Prince John is trying to amass an army to make another go at the throne, but that’s nothing new.”
Father nodded grimly. “Just what we thought. And the sheriff?”
“Didn’t see hide nor hair of him. He must still be hiding from Richard’s soldiers. They’re still looking for him.”
“Well, men, that brings us to our next item of business.” Father jabbed his forefinger onto the map laid out in front of him. “We know John’s position. And as long as he stays holed up in his castle, he isn’t much of a threat.However, if the sheriff is doing what we suspect and is gathering forces, that makes Richard’s situation much more precarious. We need to find the sheriff and see what we’re up against. Until King Richard returns, he’s counting on us to keep peace in England.”
“Hear, hear!” shouted Dale.
“As for local matters, we should rebuild some of the huts before winter. We need extra layers of mud and thatching,” James, ever the most practical of the Merry Men, commented quietly.
“Okay, men, we can rebuild the huts. Laurel, can you manage to track down the sheriff and see how many men are in his camp?”
I nodded. Father never had any qualms about sending me on dangerous missions alone. I knew that this was uncommon for fathers and noticed that other men tended to be overprotective about their daughters, but not Robin of Locksley. He would send me to carry out a jailbreak or to collect information about someone just as readily as any of his men, perhaps more. People rarely suspected an attractive young girl to be capable of villainy. I was able to gain access to places that a large, hulking man like Little John could not.
“Okay!” Father clapped his hands together. “We’ll start tomorrow, first thing in the morning.”
As we all ducked out of the hut used as the command center, the woodsy, earthy scent of the pine trees filled my nostrils. Iinhaled deeply, reveling in the wild smell, and gazed around at the clearing we had created in the heart of Sherwood Forest. The Merry Men’s families were scattered about, tending their gardens or hanging out the wash while several children chased a dirty ball.
I set off for the target area, intent on getting in some knife throwing practice before dusk. Ever since I was a little girl, my father had taught me the art of hand-to-hand combat and how to use a variety of weapons. I was deadly with a throwing knife, my preferred weapon, and could wield a dagger just as well as Little John. Though I couldn’t even hope to match my father’s skill with a bow and arrow, I still managed to shoot respectably well.
When I was eight, my mother, Marian, had been killed. From that point on, my father vowed that no daughter of his would ever be in a situation where she would be unable to defend herself. I ground my teeth at the vague memory, hating the sheriff even more. Ever since that time, Father had diligently dedicated time each day to help me learn all he knew about combat. When I was only fifteen years old, I gained admittance into the elite band of Merry Men, the first woman ever to do so, and had been with them for four years now.
I arrived at the secluded practice area, away from the huts and cooking fire, and reached into my belt for one of my knives. One after another, my weapons thudded home to the target. I began alternating throwing hands to increase the difficulty, then began with my back turned or from my knees.
Just as I went to retrieve the blades, I felt someone join me. I wrenched the knives from the target boards and turned to see Peter, one of Little John’s sons who was close to my age, watching me.
“Nice day,” he commented.
“It is.” I hoped my dismissive tone was enough for Peter to take the hint.
“Nice day for a walk,” he said pointedly.
“Enjoy, then!” I had returned to my starting position and turned to face the target boards again.
“Would you like to come with me? I’m starting training as a healer, and I was going to tell you…”
“Keep walking, Peter.” I began throwing the knives again.
Peter’s shoulders sagged as he left.
I’d once been good friends with Peter, and all the other boys in camp, for that matter. But once my abilities eclipsed their own, they began to exclude me from their games and activities. Though I had been hurt at first, I soon found that I didn’t need their company. And now that we were older, I certainly didn’t want any of their flimsy attempts at courtship. Showing romantic interest in me merely out of a lack of options was hardly a compliment.
There were far more boys than girls in our group in Sherwood Forest. Very few girls my age traveled with our band—none besides me were official members—and I wasn’t close with any of them. Let the boys pursue those girls. I had no interest whatsoever in any of the sons of the men I worked with. I preferred to dedicate myself to helping the poor and fighting against enemies who threatened King Richard’s throne. These were all causes that none of the other children of the Merry Men seemed concerned with.
