BooksBarbecue
Back Nottingham Save as PDF
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

Bodies slammed into him, and they all tumbled down. Two against twenty were never winnable odds. But their weapons were useless in a dogpile, no room to pull back or swing, and William’s mail protected him. The hairy man on top of him struggled to leverage his sword, while William dug his thumb into the man’s neck, just under the jaw, hard enough to break the skin. The man rolled away into the legs of another who tumbled over and cracked his jaw against the stony ground. Then suddenly the swell of men was retreating, they turned from rage to panic. William stayed down, let them run, and watched a few catch crossbow bolts in their backs as they fled. Rolling up, he laughed out loud to see Robin, being carried away safely on the stretcher, aiming a crossbow at the fleeing men. Each successful shot brought forth a rally of cheers from his soldiers, and they held his stretcher dangerously high in salutation, breaking into an old victory song and carrying him up and out of the plaza and out of sight.

William climbed to his feet and took in the carnage. It was a fucking mess. Scrambling toward him was the boy Craton, though he wasn’t as young as William remembered.

“Call a return.”

“What?” Craton seemed to forget what the words meant.

“Return. Now.”

Craton nodded, unslung a horn, and blew the notes, loud, that were meant to bring the soldiers back to the line. Not a retreat, a return. Retreat may have caused them to panic, but return meant it was safe.

Slowly the soldiers arrived again in the plaza, trickling in from the alleyways of its perimeter. Their white tabards streaked with blood, swords still out and shining of gore. Every one of them grinning so wide their heads could have split the fuck off.

They walked through the center of the yard, stepping over bodies with no care. A chorus of stories rose, each one of the returning men telling a tale to a soldier who had stayed behind, most of them embellished to godlike prowess. William kept silent, looked down at the collection of dead civilians around them.

He counted which ones were his.

He counted again, in case he had missed one.

Nine lives, nine souls, still dripped off his sword. These weren’t soldiers. He doubled the number, that was how many parents would grieve. He tripled it, the number of siblings. And children. They suffered for no reason, caught up in a fight they didn’t understand, unnecessary casualties of someone else’s war.

It was the way William’s brothers had died.

Some still wriggled their last throes, and he couldn’t watch. He turned to catch up with Robin’s stretcher.

NINE

ROBIN OF LOCKSLEY

ACRE

CONSEQUENCES WERE STUPID THINGS.