Free Laura Strickland - The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy by Champion of Sherwood

I.”
    Linnet looked to her parents, who watched quietly. “Where are we bound? Surely not to your hermitage.”
    Wren shook her head. “I will not take him there.” She nodded in the direction of Gareth de Vavasour. “But we will stay deep in Sherwood until we decide what to do next.” She fixed Linnet with a golden stare. “Go, take some food to him. I do not want him lagging behind and slowing our pace.”
    So, Linnet thought as she gathered up food last prepared at her own hearth, Gareth was to be treated like a herded animal, kept alive for his value on the hoof. Aye, and what more did he deserve?
    She closed her mind firmly to the memory of her dream and approached the hobbled man, well aware that everyone else watched them closely. When she reached Gareth he looked up, and she caught her breath at what she saw in his eyes.
    Defiance, anger, and a hint of arrogance, still. Aye, he was Norman to the bone.
    “You had best eat something,” she told him. “We will move on very soon.”
    He looked at the food and she could very nearly tell his thoughts: it gagged him to take charity, yet he knew he needed his strength. He accepted a heel of bread and his fingers touched the palm of her hand. Strong, tapered fingers capturing her face, silver eyes gazing into hers, and his mouth—
    Linnet swayed where she stood. She strove to beat back the tangled emotions.
    “How are your wounds? Better after being tended last night?”
    “I am well enough.” A rampant lie; his fine eyes looked bloodshot, the seam Martin had opened on the side of his face appeared ugly and tender, and lines of pain rode the skin beneath the new-grown, golden beard.
    “It is just as well. My mother means to set a hard pace today.” She turned to leave.
    “Wait, please.” He abandoned the bread and reached for her hand. She shrank from the memory of his touch, the intensity of feeling it had prompted in her dream. He saw her reaction and dropped his fingers abruptly.
    “When will they decide what is to be done with me?”
    “I do not know,” she told him honestly. “There are more important things, now, on everyone’s mind.”
    ****
    “Amazing what a scrap of bread can do,” Lark said. “He is keeping up better than I dared imagine.” Walking at Linnet’s side, she glanced back to where Gareth de Vavasour once more brought up the rear of their party, still led by his rope harness.
    “Likely his dignity will not let him falter,” Linnet said. Somehow she kept herself from looking back.
    “Dignity?” Lark snorted. “He does not make such a fine figure of a champion now, does he? Costly clothes in tatters, and walking on our ground—sacred ground.” She appeared to reflect. “Have you thought about what this means, Lin, the significance of Martin’s death, to us?”
    “Of course I have.” Always the threat of taking up responsibility for the triad had hung above Linnet’s head. “But Ma and Pa are still here, and Ma is not one to surrender the reins easily.”
    “True. But the old triad is shattered. The way I understand it, the woven magic will hold a short while. Last night, whilst you tended that swine, I asked Ma how long. She would not say.”
    “Do you think Fal will take up the place of headman in Oakham?”
    Lark scowled. “I am worried about him.” She lowered her voice and shot a look at the back of Fal’s fair head. “All his life he has tried to live up to what his father expected of him, even when it went against his nature.”
    Linnet blinked at her sister, surprised by the astute observation.
    “Do not look at me that way, Lin. I know him.” Lark added simply, “I have always known him, here, inside.” She tapped her breast above her heart. “He is not like Martin, not really, though he tries hard to be. There is perhaps too much of his mother in him.”
    Linnet nodded. Sally Scarlet had been a gentle woman who loved fiercely. Her devotion to her family had been complete. Linnet saw much of that in