Baron hissed back, “Because he’ll make your life miserable.”
“Why should you care if he does? I can handle anything this dolt thinks up.”
Baron threw up his hands in exasperation.
The man who had been sent on the sheriff’s errand had returned with a long chain. I fully expected to be tethered to a tree in the center of camp. After my two escapes, it would probably be the safest option for them.
The sheriff approached me menacingly. If I hadn’t had my feet bound after I’d dismounted, I would have delivered a swift kick to the man’s groin. He grabbed me by the hair and forced a metal collar the width of two fingers onto my neck. I felt it snap closed and he locked it. Then he threaded the chain through the loop welded onto the collar.
“Go ahead.” I challenged, acting supremely unconcerned by my predicament. “Chain me to a tree. Or a tent. Give me ten guards. I’ll find a way out again.”
A sinister look stole over the sheriff’s face. “No, I don’t think so.”
The sheriff then beckoned to Baron. “You’ll be chained to the one person who has managed to keep you here. I’m sure he can handle you easily enough.” A cuff was then snapped onto Baron’s wrist, linking us firmly together by twelve feet of heavy chain. Baron looked every bit as dismayed as I felt, and we eyed each other warily. My chance of escape had just been greatly diminished.
All that day, everywhere that Baron went, I was forced to follow. I refused to trail pathetically behind him like a puppy—especially with the collar digging uncomfortably into my neck and strands of my hair frequently getting wrapped around thechain links and ripped from my skull—so I set out to make our forced bondage as difficult as possible for him. I harassed Baron just enough to make his life frustrating and problematic, but not quite so much that it would warrant a severe punishment. I wasn’t eager to find out what torture would be cooked up for an uncooperative prisoner.
I stepped on the heels of his boots whenever I could, or darted from side to side to tangle the chain around his legs. Once, I tried going completely limp to weigh him down, but he easily solved the problem by tossing me over his massive shoulder and toting me along, which I didn’t appreciate in the slightest, and more so because I didn’t want the sheriff to see me thus. Whenever I saw the man, he would leer unpleasantly and tap his neck to mock that I was now chained like a dog.
The rest of the men in camp stared any time they thought I wasn’t looking, and whether it was because I was the famed Robin Hood’s daughter or because there were no other women to look at, I didn’t care. I had to keep my eyes in front of me. The one time I stumbled and fell, still light-headed from hunger, the chain between Baron and me went taut and the collar jerked at my neck so that a sharp, shooting pain blasted through my body.
That evening, Baron sat down to his supper, away from the other men, outside his personal tent. I fixed my gaze resolutely away from his food and refused to ask for some for myself. Apart from the few nuts and berries I had scavenged during my most recent escape, I was now at several days with no sustenance. My head constantly ached from the lack of fuel, and I’d had to sit on my hands to stop them from shaking throughout the past day—whenever we stopped moving and I was allowed to sit, that is. At this rate, I would starve to death.
“Are you ever going to eat?” Baron asked.
“And be poisoned?” I answered waspishly. “I think not.”
“Why would I poison a hostage we need to keep alive to barter with?” Baron asked. “That would be stupid.”
I snorted. “And it would be stupid of me to trust anyone holding me captive.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!“ Baron took a huge bite of a roll and a large spoonful of stew and swallowed. Then he handed me his platter and bowl. “There. Now you know it isn’t poisoned. Eat.”
I stared suspiciously at the food. It did smell wonderful. Perhaps a small bite wouldn’t hurt… “I’m not hungry,” I lied, “Especially for this slop!” But my stomach betrayed me and growled so loudly that the whole camp must have heard.
“Right.” Baron scoffed and turned to get another bowl for himself.
While his back was turned, I stole a quick bite of the mutton stew. The taste was a shock to my system—it was rich and savory, far better than I would have expected from Baron of all people. Then again, I was starving; perhaps even boiled bark would have seemed divine. Still, warmth spread through my hollow stomach, and I nearly melted with relief. After so long without food, even a few mouthfuls felt like life returning to my limbs.
Baron sat on the log next to me with his fresh bowl. “Nothing spectacular, but it’s okay,” he said, and ate contentedly.
Since I didn’t want Baron to know just how hungry I really was. I slowly ate my portion, savoring each bite. I didn’t know when my next meal would come. But when I finished the bowl, Baron took it and refilled it. Then with a meaningful look at me, he again took a large bite out of my bowl’s contents before handing it over. Then he filled a large mug with water and took a hearty swig before passing it to me.
I concealed a smile and finished my meal, feeling full for the first time since leaving Sherwood Forest.
Now that Iwas chained to someone else, I wasn’t sure how I would ever rest comfortably, and doubted that I would sleep at all with how mistrusting I was of everyone. The other time I had slept in camp before, my slumber had been forced upon me from the drugs, and I was wary of putting myself in any position that would weaken my defenses, but there seemed to be no other option.
Fortunately, Baron must have been high-ranking enough that he had a large tent to himself. It was so spacious that I could stretch the chain to its full twelve-foot extent and lie down on the hard ground on the opposite side of the tent from him. The collar was miserably uncomfortable, constantly digging into my skin and pinching my neck and hair, and the small corner of the tent I had selected was very cold and drafty, but I refused to move any closer to the man who was holding me prisoner. I huddled into a ball with my back to the tent wall, used my arm as a pillow, and tried to preserve any amount of warmth I had.
As I watched Baron through slitted eyes while he settled on his bedroll, I reminded myself not to trust anyone here—least of all him. Yet exhaustion crept in, slow and heavy. The past three days of running, fighting, and being dragged back had worn me thin. Holding myself in constant readiness drained me further, and the cold only deepened the fatigue, making my limbs sluggish and my thoughts dull.
The night felt endless. I never slept for more than a few winks before jerking awake, certain I would find danger looming over me. Baron, however, lay still and quiet, breathing slow and deep. His thick wool blankets wrapped him in warmth, his large frametrapping heat the way a bear must in winter. I shivered and envied him for it.
I tried to plan my escape, forcing my mind to work through the haze of exhaustion, but every idea slipped through my grasp like water through fingers. My thoughts were fogged, heavy, uncooperative. No brilliant plan came to save me.
As early as I dared the next morning, I slipped outside, dragging the chain with me as silently as I could manage. The cold bit straight through my chilled clothes, sharp enough to make my teeth chatter. I knelt by the fire pit and coaxed a flame to life with numb fingers, desperate for any warmth. Late autumn had settled in, and winter wasn’t far behind. If I didn’t escape soon, I could very well spend the coldest months chained like this.
How would I survive? Would Father come? And if he did, how would he break these chains any better than I could? A blacksmith would be required, or else the sheriff’s key.
