“Yes, but who is buying?” Hamon Glover was asking. “Diamond necklaces and earrings don’t do them any good.”

“Perchance they have more friends than we think,” came the trademaster, rising. “Perchance there are some lords in Nottinghamshire who are financing this terrorism, for their own reasons.” Blame, William realized. He had offered solutions, but they wanted punishments. It wasn’t that he’d missed his mark, it was simply that nobody cared.

“We know who to talk to.” Gisbourne drew close to de Lacy now, though he could hardly hide his voice from the rest of the table. “We know she’s helping them. She could be the public ending we’re looking for.”

De Lacy’s face twitched as he measured the suggestion, then responded with all gravity. “I trust I don’t have to remind you who her family is.”

Gisbourne snorted. “Her family.”

Marion. She’d made a strong impression upon William at Locksley Castle, before all hell broke loose. But as highly as Robin spoke of her, she was treading in dangerous waters. If she was indeed responsible for turning Robin’s stolen jewelry into actual coin, then she might be the key to stopping it all. William cursed himself for not pursuing that thought earlier.

“If she were here, I would speak with her,” de Lacy admitted. “But nobody has heard from her for weeks. She keeps a room in Sheffield, which we are watching. But we cannot idle ourselves until she resurfaces. We have the more pressing task of getting our own house in order. We’ve failed so far. I’ve failed so far. I want options on how to proceed.”

“You don’t know how it is out there,” Papplewick whined. “Half of my people are gone. I already lost half to the war. How am I supposed to live on what’s left? How are any of us? If the Sheriff of Nottingham cannot take care of a problem like this, I don’t know why I came here to ask for help.”

“Let’s be honest, at least,” Roger replied. “You did not come here to ask for help. You came to ransom it.”

“Why should we pay,” Oughtibridge huffed, “if we get nothing in return? You’re the High Sheriff. We’ll pay your taxes when you prove you can protect us from this sort of treason!”

He sloshed his wine about and cursed it when it spilled, along with a few other things about the room he found worthy of his expletives.

William tried to salvage something from it all. “We need to encourage merchants to use the Sherwood Road again. Gisbourne, couldn’t you assign men as escorts through the forest?”

Gisbourne scoffed. “Escort duty? We’re the Sheriff’s Guard, not mercenaries for hire.”

“Your dignity aside,” William licked his lips, “could it be done?”