The gates lowered another notch.
My place weren’t never inside the castle, not while the people were being pushed back and abused.
My place weren’t never behind a line of men with their swords drawn who knew not what they were meant to protect.
My place were on the other side of the gates.
I took off running.
The guards may have called to me; they weren’t ready to hold back someone from behind them, and I broke through the armed guards with ease. I ran for the seam where common folk and guards were pushed together, and saw them heave their fists and elbows like arrows through the faces of the hungry and the poor. I saw blood and brutal injustice.
The gates slammed down not moments after I made it out, and the crowd surged against the portcullis, carrying me with it in the flicker of torches and dark.
I fought my way back until the crowd let me go, and behind the throng were other souls standing about, watching, clutching their children and keeping back.
“What happened?” I asked a full-cheeked woman, going to her three young girls and pulling my cloak off my shoulders and round them.
She showed me a bit of bread, crawling with mealworms. “They gave us food,” she said, sniffling. “And it was rotten. A few of the children took sick fast, and then the men started for the castle.”
It dawned on me, sick and awful. “Because you ate the food anyway.”
A fresh wash of tears went down her cheeks, but her little ones didn’t notice, giggling and playing inside the cloak. “We’re hungry,” she whispered.
I looked at her, straight in the eyes, and I wanted to wipe her tears off her face but I couldn’t rob her of them, like for me to say it weren’t so would unmake her pain. It would be a mock of it. “I’ll get you food,” I said. “Before the night is over, I’ll get you food.”
She cried more, but I didn’t think it were much because she were grateful. I think it were because she didn’t believe me and feared for her babies.
“Go get warm,” I told her.
She nodded, taking the cloak from her daughters.
“No,” I said quick, stepping back. “It’s for them.”
“You’ll freeze,” she said, confused.
I shook my head. “Keep it. Please.”
I went from her before she could give it back, and I set to running, down to the closest inn I knew. I didn’t bother going inside. I went to their stables and filched a horse before any could tell me no, hauling atop it and tearing my skirt to sit astride the beast. I set off for Edwinstowe, praying Rob were awake and I wouldn’t have to venture into hell to pull him back. I rode into the dark, snow-silenced countryside, for the first time in months feeling like my feet were carrying me toward something and not away.
It were long enough into the night that the lads might have been at the monastery already, but not enough that it were a certainty. I didn’t think, at least. My blood roaring were the only thing keeping my body in motion; my skin were thick and clumsy and I’d long since stopped feeling for the wet and cold.
I went to Tuck’s, sure I’d at least find John there. Not even bothering to peep in the window, I dropped from the horse and burst into the place. It felt like my body caught up to my blood, and it were a violent coming together, more like stabbing pain than heat. There were a fair amount of men there, and I could bare look upon them before I bent over, wheezing and shivering as the warmth broke through.
Someone were calling my name, and I straightened in time for Rob to pull me into a hug, dragging me off the ground and hugging me so hard I feared I might shatter, and my hand slung against my ribs protested.
“Scar, you’re like ice,” he said, pulling me over to the huge fireplace and kicking other folk out of their seats. Much appeared with a blanket and John were a moment behind him, and in a breath, even half-frozen, I felt like no time had passed, and all were like it used to be.
Rob tugged off my silly shoes and wrapped his hands around my feet even as I winced away, the heat hurting. “Jesus, Scar,” he murmured, looking at my face in full. “What, did you run here from Nottingham?”
“There are riots,” I said, trying to suck in a deep breath against the cold.
“Riots?” Much asked. “What for?”
“The prince gave the people rotten food from the feast,” I said. “A few of the little ones took sick, and the people just … fought.”
Much looked at John, who frowned back at him, but Rob just rubbed my feet more and smiled. “I take it you came up with a plan on your way.”
I nodded. “I know where the castle food stores are. Most of it collected from Nottinghamshire.”
John shook his head. “No,” he said.
We all looked to him.
“No,” he repeated, fair shocked, like it were a crime we didn’t know what he were about. “I’m not doing it.”
“You heard her,” Rob said. “Children are dying. What would you have us do? Nothing?”
“Yes!” he snapped. “Because that’s all it ever is. Nothing but sticking our necks out. Changing nothing, fixing nothing.”
“John—” Much said.
“Actions have punishments,” he said. “We steal the food, hand it out, then what? You think Prince John will just let us off about our way? We almost died fighting the sheriff and this is the prince. He will kill us,” he said.
“He won’t kill me,” I said, scowling at John.
He jumped forward and grabbed my chin, tilting my bruises to the light. “No, he has his own ways of punishing you, Scar, and I’m not putting that on you. Rob may be fine with turning your face purple but I’m not.”
Rob let go of my feet to stand to John’s challenge, but I didn’t bother. “Oh for Heaven’s sake, Rob, sit,” I said.
“Are you questioning my honor, Little? You, who is acting like a damn coward right now?”
“I’m questioning all of it! You think you’re ready to fight the damn prince? You’ve barely slept in a month! You’ll get us all pinched covering your worthless hide.”
Much stood too. “Are you two really going to brawl in Tuck’s? Again?”
“Again?” I snapped, and they both looked fair sheep-like ’bout it.
“If you want out of the band, just say so, John. That’s all there is to it,” Robin spat, sitting back down and grabbing my feet.
I kicked him, dangerous close to a part of him he prized. He grunted and held my foot up, scowling, but I scowled back. “Don’t threaten him,” I said. “Honestly, you like to throw that about a fair bit. ‘Out of the band this, out of the band that.’ We’re barely a band right now so don’t go kicking people out. It ain’t nice.”