But frankly, Robin agreed with Richard. He certainly didn’t want to be held responsible for his own family, either. It was senseless to be bound to another person, to be obliged by their mistakes, for the mere coincidence of being related. True bonds, such as the one he shared with William, were earned.

A week after being able to walk again, Robin was well enough to travel. He had desperately hoped Richard would change his mind, but been disappointed as usual. Robin would leave the war as a cripple chasing a diplomatic waste of time. There was, however, one bright bit of news.

“I’m coming with you,” William de Wendenal said with a grin, pulling his pack onto his shoulders.

“Bullshit,” was all Robin could say. “Why? You’re not injured.”

“King’s orders.”

“Why send us both?” Robin couldn’t understand it. “There are any of a dozen lords he’d happily be rid of, but we’re valuable to him.”

“Those lords would be happy to go back.” William shrugged. “Perhaps he’s sending us because he knows we don’t want to go. Or perhaps to keep each other honest.”

“Well damn,” Robin said. “That means we’re going to have to actually investigate the missing supplies.”

William snorted. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Ride a mile north, set up camp for a month, then ride back and say we couldn’t find anything?”

“That sounds helpful.”

“We’re helpful here,” Robin said, more seriously. “But something tells me you’re going to insist that we actually see this one through.”

“You’re right as always.” William slapped his back. “Richard needs someone he can trust to fix this. Whether I care to admit it or not, you and I are the smartest people here. Which means we can make short work of it, and get back here before they march for Jerusalem.”

Having his closest friend as a companion would make the journey far better, but Robin still felt uneasy at the mission. It would likely be months before they returned to Richard’s side.

But those were the consequences.

The damned consequences.

Robin had few goodbyes to give, but made certain to visit the Earl of Derby, William de Ferrers. He had not seen the man at all during his recovery, and wanted to visit him before departing—if only to comment on how lucky he had actually been to not officiate the surrender. But outside the home Ferrers had claimed, Robin was greeted by a group of French men-at-arms who had made themselves quite comfortable. They had been living there, they explained, ever since the ambush. It seemed smaller riots had broken out throughout the city that day, acts of opportunity really. The Frenchmen further explained that Ferrers, whose name they hadn’t even known, had been stabbed to death by a young beggar boy, whom they had subsequently cut down and thrown over the breakwall.