He cocked one eyebrow, and I glared at him. I don’t back down. Rob worries. There were times when we first met up that I were awful sick on account of how long I didn’t eat, and he never forgets it. ’Course, I don’t forget it neither, but thinking of it makes things worse. I remember that I’ve gone weeks without eating much, days without eating nothing, and I can survive. I reckon the little Cooper kids couldn’t.
And Rob should understand. He takes the guilt and responsibility that others can’t. John takes the punches. I just take the hunger, and most times it feels like awful little.
“Well, if you’re not hungry, I am,” John said, coming and taking the food away from me. He were doing it to be mean, but I really weren’t hungry, so I let him.
He sat down next to me and ate it noisy. He sat right up against me and pressed his elbow into my side. I hit his arm and he spilled the spoonful down his tunic. “Perfectly good food, Scar.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t sit so close to me.”
He pushed closer, which only made me push against Much. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”
I stood up and slapped his bowl up, spilling it over him. “Didn’t think you liked sitting with rats,” I snapped, stalking off.
“Scarlet!” he roared.
I smirked but kept ambling on. Served him right.
I made a pass through Edwinstowe, keeping my head down but eyes open. The houses were all set off from the central water well, little thatched roof bits with rickety fencing for their chickens, if they were lucky enough to have one or two. There were one or two farmers in Edwinstowe and they kept their livestock in a corral by the well.
I didn’t see any castle guards or any of the sheriff’s men. They were the only ones around here who wore armor, so it made them easy to spot. Lady Thoresby walked the small town as well; she were the wife of Lord Thoresby, who protected the town from the sheriff. He weren’t very good at it, but he did his best.
Lady Thoresby were pretty as far as those things went. So pale and blond, she kind of looked like the sun in the day and the moon after night fell. She were taking her pretty skirts to the Coopers’ house; I wondered if she were fixing to tell Mistress Cooper that her son had escaped the prison. She were kind like that—even if she couldn’t do much, it were a help to warn the family that the sheriff might be coming down on them. It made our job easier too.
She had a guard with her, but he were no threat to the townspeople, so I began to walk toward Nottingham. It weren’t really the right time of day for wagon fare, so I climbed a tree and began to run through the overlapping branches. The trees were old and the branches were decent thick; as long as I ran fast, they bare had time to bend. It were the best way to get around during the day. It didn’t make too much of a clatter neither.
Nottingham were a market town, but the market weren’t as good as Worksop, most because the sheriff just scooped up anyone who were any good and stationed them in the keep. As sheriff, he set the taxes in Nottinghamshire, and it were how his big castle ran itself; they taxed the grain from the farmers, the weapons from the smiths, the cloths from the weavers and dyers, and so on. Sheriff never had nothing what he made himself. He also had a tendency to take the best grain and food as a tax. Showing at Nottingham meant you’d often lose your wares, but some still did it.
I nicked an apple as I went past, leaving a coin in its place. The coin were worth far more than the apple, but that didn’t matter much. I didn’t steal from people who couldn’t afford it, but I also didn’t like to barter neither.
A little girl and her brother were curled on the ground beside their father’s shop, and the whole set looked threadbare and thin. My stomach growled—I were a little hungry for once, not having eaten the yesternight—and I sighed. Without looking at her, I pushed the apple into her hands, sinking back into the crowd before she really saw me.
The gates were open, so I walked right in past the heavy guard. I’m fair good at not being looked at.
I walked round the lower bailey, listening. The laundress and baker were down in the lower one, and they were women with other women working for them, so they tended to cluck up a storm while they worked.
I had sewn my vest special; it had a pocket against the small of my back that I could fill up with whatever I needed, and despite making me look a fair bit thicker, you couldn’t tell what were in it. I began sliding rolls into it and nicked a fine pair of black woolen hose. Then I just leaned into a shadowy corner and listened. I considered eating one of the rolls, but too many faces from the village popped into my head. Tuck would give me food later on.
One of the girls laughed, and I heard a snap as she whipped out the wet cloth. “These that fancy man’s things?” she asked.
“Aye,” said the laundress.
“They’re not much more than threads!” she said.
“He’s been wearing them, but they’re not his,” another girl said. “Jameson told me that his things are being sent up from London.” She made a noise. “Don’t like him. Eyes look like God took the light from ’em.”
The laundress laughed. “Jameson? Like him well enough to be running off with him every chance I give you.”
“Oh, no, I like Jameson very well. That Sir Guy. He’s terrible.”
“Least he keeps his hands to hisself,” another said.
“God’s truth.”
“I heard he was in the Crusades.”
“I heard he’s killed a hundred thieves. God’s own work, that man is after.”
I heard a splash. “That’s not on, Margery. He’s been called to string up Robin Hood. Not God’s work at all.”
“Careful with that tongue, little one. You may be new here, but there are things we can’t talk about.”
“Well, the Hood may help us with the washing, leastways,” said the one who carried on with Jameson. “I heard they’re awful afraid that Hood’s men will nick Gisbourne’s things. They were sending it up the river, but Jameson’s been sent to bring it through Sherwood, disguised somehow.”
The laundress laughed. “Robin Hood won’t be fooled by a disguise! Best tell Jameson he’s off on a fool’s errand.”
“I tried, but he’s gone already. Hopefully they’ll be back with it tomorrow.”
The women started whistling, though I couldn’t much tell why. “Remember, lass, there’s the milk and there’s the cow, and the cow part should come first.”