Page 121

My stomach tightened.

"Where did they go?"

"The old burial ground. They've cleared the brambles and brought spades. There's a man with a measuring line directing them."

I stood so quickly I nearly knocked over the water pot.

"Robin," Guy said.

"They're digging up my family."

"We don't know what they're—"

"They've already torn apart the chapel twice, Guy. Twice in six years, and they found nothing."

I pulled out the compass again.

"Now Fitzwalter sends twenty soldiers with spades and a measuring line to the place where nine generations of my family are buried."

I looked at him.

"What else could they possibly be looking for?"

Guy got to his feet, one hand pressed against his injured side.

He didn't argue.

"Then we need to get there first."

I gathered my bow, quiver, and the stolen order bearing Fitzwalter's seal.

Then I slipped my grandmother's compass back into its usual pocket.

I hadn't set foot on the Locksley estate in six years.

I'd ridden around it, taken longer routes through the forest, and avoided every road that offered a view of the house.

I'd told myself I was being careful.

The truth was that I couldn't bear to see what had become of my home.

Part of the house had burned after my father's arrest. Strangers kept their horses in his stables, and the land where I'd spent my childhood belonged to the man responsible for destroying my family.

I'd spent six years trying not to think about any of it.

Now Fitzwalter's soldiers were digging through our burial ground.

He'd been searching Locksley for something my father left behind, and whatever it was, I intended to find it before he did.

25

ROBIN

Iknew we were getting close to Locksley when I recognized the old stone bridge. It looked almost exactly as I remembered. Moss still covered the walls, and the same willow leaned over the stream. Someone had replaced the railing along one side, although they'd done a poor job of it.

The last time I'd crossed that bridge, I was sixteen, with soldiers chasing us and my grandmother riding ahead of me, shouting for me not to look back.

Now I was crossing it with the Sheriff of Nottingham riding beside me.