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I pressed a hand against the letter beneath my shirt.

Then someone shouted from the other side of the wall.

"Someone's disturbed the stonework!"

Guy turned immediately. "Robin. Up."

I was already moving. He tucked the three documents inside his coat, while I kept my father's letter against my chest.

I grabbed my bow, and we hurried toward the orchard gap. The shouting grew louder behind us. A soldier came running around the chapel corner and stopped about ten feet away.

His gaze moved from my bow to Guy's face.

I saw the moment he recognized him.

"That's Bisbane!" he shouted. "That's the sheriff! He’s…”

I fired an arrow into the ground between his boots.

He stumbled backward and landed hard on his backside.

Guy stepped forward and took the man's sword before he could recover.

"Stay where you are," Guy told him. "You'll be alive to eat your supper."

Then the rest of the soldiers came around the chapel.

I put two fingers to my mouth and whistled.

An answering whistle came from the trees.

Then another.

Nine archers against twenty-three soldiers weren't particularly good odds in an open field.

Fortunately, we weren't standing in an open field. We had trees, stone walls, and elevated positions overlooking the burial ground. The first volley struck the grass, the brambles, and the chapel roof.

Not a single arrow hit a soldier.

But the men immediately ducked behind the nearest headstones, uncertain how many archers were waiting in the woods.

Guy moved beside me.

"The clerk isn't commanding them."

"Then who is?"

"Behind the yew. Blue sleeve. He's raising his hand."

I spotted him.

"How do you know?"

"The others keep looking to him for orders."

I drew an arrow. The officer raised his arm again.

I fired.