Eventually, the man returned and led Robin into a clearing that sprawled wide and flat. Long grass swayed in a breeze that found its way from the other side, between which were twenty or thirty ramshackle tents. They were dirty and flapping about, each one built shoddier than the last, as though he’d come across some great contest of incompetence. Here and there were empty fire rings, skinny dogs chasing after each other, and a gathering of people faring only slightly worse than their tents. They clustered around a great oak tree, standing alone in the middle of the clearing, its massive low branches reaching out and down, either protecting or eating the people beneath. A crowd had already begun to gather.

“If you still see yourself as having the upper hand,” John said, “thought you’d want to meet the rest of your prisoners. Hope you don’t mind the imprisonment of women, children, and men of the cloth amongst.”

He spoke true enough. This was no gang of thieves, not the rogue band of mercenaries Robin expected. Old men, backs crooked and skin tanned bronze, women carrying bundles of canvas and straw, children who were too skinny, and men who were little better.

A young girl with inky dark hair, braided with twine and trinkets, came running and flung herself into Will’s arms. A sister, Robin guessed, until she gave him a kiss that said anything but. On second look, she was not as young as he’d thought, just small, and Robin forced himself to look elsewhere when he realized they were still kissing.

“Who’d you catch, darling?” she asked loudly, though her lips were still only inches from Will’s. “Someone important?”

“Apparently so.”

“All on your own?”

“Well Alan ran off, and John spent some time swimming, so yes, all on my own.”

“I had no doubt.”

She bit his lip and tugged it, cocking an eyebrow at Robin. Dark, almond eyes, paired against smooth white skin. Lucky boy.

“My apologies to all!” John called out, settling the crowd. “We knew this time would come. I’m afraid we are but surrendered!”

This was met with a variety of animated reactions, none of which seemed to take it seriously. Any fear that Robin had of being held captive or ransomed had vanished at the edge of the glen, but neither were the tables reversed. He wished William was here, he was always better at dealing with people.

“Quiet now, quiet,” John calmed the banter. “This here, well he’s a friend of the Sheriff.”

A bevy of boos and hisses followed as though they were the audience of a Passion play.

“And he’s asked for our captivation. So we’ve had a good time, but it seems this here is the end.” He turned to Robin, holding his hands out and together as if bound. “Your prisoner, John Little.”

“A pleasure to meet you, John,” he lied.