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Chapters (76)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. PART II
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. PART III
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. INTERLUDE
  35. PART IV
  36. TWENTY-SEVEN
  37. TWENTY-EIGHT
  38. TWENTY-NINE
  39. THIRTY
  40. THIRTY-ONE
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. INTERLUDE
  45. PART V
  46. THIRTY-FIVE
  47. THIRTY-SIX
  48. THIRTY-SEVEN
  49. THIRTY-EIGHT
  50. PART VI
  51. THIRTY-NINE
  52. FORTY
  53. FORTY-ONE
  54. FORTY-TWO
  55. FORTY-THREE
  56. FORTY-FOUR
  57. FORTY-FIVE
  58. INTERLUDE
  59. PART VII
  60. FORTY-SIX
  61. FORTY-SEVEN
  62. FORTY-EIGHT
  63. FORTY-NINE
  64. FIFTY
  65. FIFTY-ONE
  66. FIFTY-TWO
  67. PART VIII
  68. FIFTY-THREE
  69. FIFTY-FOUR
  70. FIFTY-FIVE
  71. FIFTY-SIX
  72. EPILOGUE
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  75. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  76. Newsletter Sign-up

“This Waleran wants me to go after the Chancellor, and he wants me to win. But I don’t intend on winning. I told him. I don’t want to be king. England needs a good king, not me, it needs my brother. Not ever me. If we start making England a better place, then Richard has no reason to come back.

“But if England burns,” John continued, taking the quill, “then he has to come back. He simply has to.”

The edict was complete but for a signature at the bottom and an emptiness in the middle where he was to appoint a name as the new sheriff. John signed his own name at the bottom, then wrote Lord Guy of Gisbourne in the empty space. Ten times worse than de Lacy, Red Roger had said, and John was counting on it.

The candle burned his finger when he dripped its wax onto the paper, but John didn’t mind the pain.

PART V

LEX TALIONIS

THIRTY-FIVE

ELENA GAMWELL

BERNESDALE

ELENA GAVE WILL’S LIP a soft bite, and for a moment there was nothing but him. She tried to pull him closer but he pushed her off, the brat, softstepping away into the dark, turning just in time to flash that irresistible smirk. His warmth was still there, on her chest and in her arms, and she held onto it until the chill took over. Only then did she turn back to see John Little’s patronizing smile, which turned into a silent pucker and a flash of his bushy greying eyebrows.

“Get your own,” Elena teased him, and looked back at Bernesdale’s market.

Removed from the rest of the village, a wide shoulder-high stone ring circled a dozen or so long low storehouses, all made from the same heavy misshapen stones and straw thatching. For an hour or two, that wall and the night had given them plenty of cover to watch the comings and goings of the raided plunder. A steady fire was kept raging at the center of the ring, where there would normally be a motley of merchants and roving traders. But there were no colorful wares or tradesmen now, just the blue and steel of the Nottingham fucking Guard.

Fortunately, as they predicted, only a handful of gords actually stayed with the supplies. Most were out collecting it. Every now and then a wagon would roll in, sometimes two or three, with men huffing to keep pace beside. There was always some sort of confusion as to what they were supposed to do with their loot, until eventually it was organized and distributed to different storehouses. Then they’d leave again, back on the road, or to find shelter over in the village. Elena watched one empty wagon driven by men in plainclothes, who actually loaded supplies and left again toward Nottingham. That had given Will the inspiration for their plan.