Hawksmaid (8 page)

T
HE BOYS AND
M
ATTY
slipped quietly up the bank of the creek and made their way wordlessly through the forest until they reached the cave.

“They are the very same rubies as those on the chalice. I swear!” Rich gasped.

“So what might that mean?” Fynn asked. “If, Rich, as you said, the chalice was been taken for repair, did it look the same when we last saw it in church or different?”

“Well, if the rubies were missing, we would have noticed,” Matty said.

“Certainly,” Will agreed.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Fynn said, rubbing his chin.

“Suppose so? I know so,” Rich said firmly.

“But would you have noticed if they weren't the same rubies?” Fynn asked.

“Weren't the same rubies?” they all said at once.

“Yes, what if the silversmith substituted fake ones?”

“How do you fake a ruby, Fynn?” Hubie asked.

“I have no idea. But it seems to me if they can make stained-glass windows with ruby-colored panes—I've heard about the ones at Canterbury…”

“If…” Matty said slowly, “they can make stained-glass windows that look as red as rubies, then what Fynn is saying is that they can make fake gems out of glass that look like real ones.”

“It's hard to believe that the church would do that,” Will said.

“Remember the rumors about the Bishop of Hereford,” Hubie said.

“Yes, the Bishop of Hereford and Prince John
together would do that,” Fynn agreed. “And now think of how the abbess fits into all this.”

“These rubies alone could buy the prince land and any soldiers he wanted most likely. It could be civil war and with Richard so far…” Matty's voice melted away.

“They could be all that stand between John and the crown,” Rich said.

“A king's ransom,” Matty said quietly.

“What should we do with them?” Rich asked.

“Well, we can't exactly return them to the church, can we now?” Will said.

“But we can't keep them for ourselves,” Hubie replied.

Fynn looked about and then motioned them to come closer. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “These rubies cannot fall into John's hands. They will help put a villain on the throne of England. He will use them to buy an army to achieve his goal. Anything we can do to stop that is good.”

“Maybe the rubies could help more people,” Hubie said.

Listening to both Fynn and Hubie, an idea began
to form in Matty's mind.

“Maybe the rubies could help overthrow tyrants,” Matty said. A quiet descended on the five friends. They each thought about the suffering they had seen in the past years. A stolen round of cheese or haunch of venison could go only so far. But might there be enough wealth in these rubies to stop the tyranny?

Finally Fynn broke the silence. “I see what Matty is saying. But we must bide our time. Rubies like these are not easy to trade for money. Safer to steal gold and silver from the prince or the sheriff's coffers to help the people. I think for now we should hide them, hide them well, and not all in one place, but five different places that we all know about.”

Matty knew that Fynn was right about this. For now they must hide the jewels—hide them where they could never be found. Matty suddenly remembered such a place.

“There is a sickness that sparrow hawks get. It is carried by wood ticks and once a hawk gets that disease it abandons its nest.”

“I know about that illness. It's as if the whole tree gets sick. The leaves turn gray and scaly,” Rich said.
“The hawk leaves the tree and no other birds will nest there. And even people don't go near those trees. It's like they're haunted. The ghosts of trees long dead.”

“Exactly my point,” Matty said. The boys' eyes widened as they realized what Matty was really saying. “I know of five such trees in this forest. They all have hollows perfect for hiding. They are unbothered by the birds and people, and their timber is not good for firewood. They are—” She hesitated as she remembered the woman Helena she had met on the road. “They are not merely haunted or ghosts. They are the lepers of the forest. That is where we should hide the rubies.” Then Matty stood back and looked grimly at each boy. “Until now I have never joined your thievery.”

“Aah, don't worry about it, Matty,” Rich said.

“I never worried about it, Rich, but all that was petty thievery compared to this.”

“Yeah,” said Fynn. “That was pickpocket, cutpurse. Now we're committing a far greater crime.” He seemed to smile as he said the words.

“Well, that's the point,” Matty replied. “You can count me in. I'm a robber now as well.”

“Not you, Matty,” Fynn said. “This is not girls' work.”

Fury flared within her. “It's outlaws' work is what it is. Thieves' work. A thief can be a man, a woman, a girl, or a boy. I found the rubies!” The color had risen in her cheeks. She was not so much angry as determined for them to see her as who she was and who she knew she could be: an outlaw like the rest of them.

“I want you to trust me. We all need to trust one another. It has nothing to do with being a girl or a boy. What we've taken is not a prize hen's eggs, a round of cheese, or a deer from the royal forest. I think we need to make a blood oath, for indeed we are in possession now of unbelievable riches. So we must swear an oath of loyalty.”

The four others nodded in solemn agreement. Fynn drew out his hunting knife. Each one took it, and in the dim light of the cave slashed the tips of their thumbs. They then went around and pressed their thumbs to one another's and repeated the words after Matty.

“I solemnly do swear upon this oath of blood never to reveal my knowledge of the rubies to any human
being. The riches we have found will be used only in service to our lawful king, Richard, and to defeat the tyranny that prevails in this land but never for our personal gain. This I swear in the name of our Lord.”

A
LL THROUGH THE SUMMER
and the fall of 1191 and well into the next winter, the rubies nestled hidden in the five hollows of the trees that Matty called the lepers of the forest. The people grew poorer. Prince John grew bolder, and the five friends grew bolder as well and more desperate. Matty had proved herself an excellent cutpurse, but the takings were slimmer even from the sheriff's men.

Beyond stealing, the boys had to find ways to earn a penny here or there to help their own families, for there were mouths to feed. Rich helped his father at
the mill. It had been seized by the sheriff, who forced them to grind grain at half price for the sheriff and any of his men. Similarly Will Scarloke's father, by decree of Prince John, was made to shoe the horses of the sheriff's men free of charge. Will worked in his father's forge and had started to juggle on market days in various towns to make enough money to help buy food. Hubie spent less and less time in the forest and more time helping his mother brew and deliver ale. And Fynn's father had gone lame and could no longer work as forest warden. The family relied on the money that Nelly could get for her services as a midwife and they ate what Fynn could catch.

“We have to do something!” Fynn said, pacing the cave where they often met now.

“Is it time for the gobbets?” Will asked.

The friends had, shortly after their blood oath, decided never to mention the rubies by name. They had a score of code words for the five rubies. “Rowan berries” was one, for in winter the rowan tree bore bright red berries that were used to make dyes. Another code word was “blood,” another “the gobbets” still another was “bunions.” They tried to come up with words that suggested something common and
not something rare or precious.

“No, not for the gobbets, but it is time for something else.” Fynn had grown, it seemed, almost a head taller in the last six months. He was nearing his sixteenth birthday. He stopped pacing and ran a hand over his cheek. “We are men now. Look, I have a beard…or almost.”

“I almost do!” Rich said.

“Me, too,” Hubie and Will both said at once.

“Oooh, me, too!” Matty said with a great sigh. She hated all this carrying on about shaving and becoming men. It seemed rather childish to her. “Just tell me, Fynn—all of you—what does a beard have to do with anything?”

“Nothing really,” Fynn replied, and looked her directly in the eye. “Old lady Biggle is dying, Matty. She be dying of starvation.” He paused. “You see, Matty, it is time for us to act as men.” He paused again. “And women,” he added, taking a step closer to Matty. The color rose in her cheeks as he studied her. He was looking very deeply into her eyes as if searching for something. The awkward silence was broken by Hubie.

“Old lady Biggle be dying of heartbreak as much
as starvation,” he said. “They took her son away and threw him in the sheriff's dungeon 'cause he wouldn't cobble boots for the sheriff's guard for free. The shop is closed. They have no livelihood.”

“It's like me own father and the mill,” Rich said. “Me mum's starving and she be expecting a baby. Baby might die before it gets born.” He paused and his eyes began to well up. “And me mum might, too.”

“If it's not time for the rubies, it might be time for something almost as valuable,” Matty said.

The boys turned toward her. Their brows were creased in bewilderment.

“Do you know where the sheriff keeps his coffers?” Matty asked.

“Nottingham Castle. It's well fortified,” Fynn replied.

“Exactly,” said Matty. “You don't have a chance of getting in there. And it's where the prince stays when he comes here.”

“Do
you
think you have a chance of getting in?” Fynn asked.

“Better than you,” she fired back. “I can be a maid. I can work in the scullery, the laundry, serve in the kitchen.”

“She's right! Fynn!” Will leaped up. “Matty could find out all sorts of things for us…like—like—” Rich, Hubie, and Will all were speaking excitedly.

“Like where they keep the silver!” Hubie said. “You don't think they eat from trenchers, taking their ale in wood cups like the rest of the world, do you? She's perfect for the job! Our spy. No one will suspect Matty.”

Matty's eyes were bright now. But Fynn had grown very still.

Matty walked over to him. “What's wrong, Fynn? Are you mad because I thought this up?”

“No.” He scowled. “But, Matty, it's dangerous. You'll be in the thick of it. You could get caught or hurt and—”

“And there is no choice!” Matty said. “You heard what Rich said about his mum and the baby. People are dying. Dying!”

“And what about your birds, Matty? Who will take care of your hawks while you serve the sheriff?” Fynn asked.

“Ooh!” Matty said softly. She hadn't thought of that. Just before everything had seemed so possible, but now…?

“I will!” Rich spoke up. “I can take care of them.”

“I can help, too!” Will said.

“And me!” Hubie said.

They all now turned to Fynn. He nodded slightly and then smiled. “Count me in, Matty.”

“Oh, Fynn!” she cried, flinging her arms around him. She squeezed him hard and then broke away. But she had felt his lips brush her cheek, and it had sent a wonderful jolt through her. Now he was looking down at his feet and shuffling. Had she embarrassed him by this quick embrace in front of his friends? Before, her heart had soared, but now she felt mortified. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass Fynn. She backed away several steps and, turning to the other boys, said, “Don't worry about me. Just let me get a position in the castle. I know castles and I'll figure out this one quickly. You know it won't take me long and then I can just quit, leave. Say I have to go home to take care my aged father.”

“And you won't give them your real name?” Fynn asked.

“No—no, I'll call myself…” She paused and thought for a few seconds. “Let's see…how about Marian?” She looked at the leaf that Fynn had tucked
into his cap. “Marian Greenleaf!”

“All right.” Fynn paused “Maid Marian.” He then looked at the three others. “I think I want a new name, too!”

That is so like Fynn,
Matty thought.
Probably thinks I bested him coming up with this name.
He touched the peaked green hat that he had started to wear. “If Matty is to call herself Maid Marian, I shall call myself Robert Hood.” He stopped and shook his head. “Sounds rather dull, actually. How about Robin? Robin Hood? More of a ring to it, don't you think?”

Hubie stood up. At barely sixteen he had become a giant of a young man, standing well over six feet with massive shoulders and hands like hams. “I have always hated the name Hubert. So I shall call myself John.”

“John!” They all gasped.

“Not like Prince John!” Matty blurted out. “How could you?”

“Me grandfather was named John. He was as right and honest a man as ever lived. One bad prince shouldn't spoil a perfectly good name.” He gave them a sly look now. “But if it bothers you I'll call myself Little John and you can call me Little for short. Or Tiny or Teeny or Teensy.” They were all laughing now
as Little John rose on his tiptoes and began cavorting around the cave, which seemed much too small for his large figure.

“And what will you call yourselves?” Robin said, looking at Rich Much and Will Scarloke.

“I am perfectly happy with my own name. Rich as in Richard. And it is
much
an honor to bear our king's name,” he said, laughing.

“And you, Will?” Marian asked.

“Scarlet—Will Scarlett or just plain Scarlett?” Rich asked.

“Scarlet—one
T
please. Never fancied that second one hanging off the end,” Will replied.