An Indecent Betrothal [Book One of the Lady Heloise Adventures]

Chapter Three

Dicslaimer: Robin Hood and most of the characters are based off of the *drum roll* BBC re-edition. Heloise and Robert belong to Lady Evelyn Fae of Wattyland. End of story... or well, at least not this story... yet...

Sherwood Forest

Three days later.

For three nights, the storm raged. The winds roared and snow beat against the outer walls of the cave. Inside, the outlaws drank, ate, talked and slept. Each took a turn on guard duty, more out of routine than desperate need. As the hours wore on, the echoes of their chatter faded away, replaced by the sounds of the wind and the almost continuous sizzling of wood on a fire, as one by one, each outlaw returned back to the inner sanctuary of their own private thoughts.

On the third morning, Robin woke first. Stretching his arms out like a cat, he rolled onto his back, catching the first streams of sunlight dancing on his bare torso. Shrugging off the deer skin cover, he stood up and followed the ray of light to the source: an almost miniscule crack in the wall of the cave

The main chamber of the cave itself remained shrouded in darkness. The fire had burnt itself out, leaving only blackened lumps of wood in its place. Djaq, Will and John were fast asleep still on their separate bunks. Allan was where Robin had left him, unconscious and sprawled out on the cave floor, an empty cup resting in his hands. Robin fervently hoped that the wet patch on Allan’s crotch was a result of an ale spillage rather than anything else.

At the opening of the cave, Much snored happily, oblivious to being on guard duty. Robin crept past him, out through the narrow arch and into the sun light.

The storm had passed. In its place was a world of white and a clear blue sky. Using his hand as a shield from the bright reflection of sun on snow, Robin surveyed the area. During the seventy or so hours, several feet of snow had fallen, covering trees and trails in its wake. As Robin took a hesitant step forward from the step leading into the cave, his bare foot sunk into the snow like a knife through butter. Gritting his teeth against the burning pain, he pushed his foot through the layer until it collided with the hard earth beneath.

The pain overwhelming, Robin leapt back, as if scolded, rubbing his hands ferociously against the numb skin of his leg and the wet breeches congealing to his thigh. As a man of almost six feet tall, for snow to reach halfway up his thigh, this meant trouble.

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“I can’t see why we ‘ave to dig our way to Nottingham,” Allan whinged, shovelling snow miserably. It had taken Robin less than an hour to wake up the rest of the gang and have them attire sensibly. It had taken him longer to stir Allan, finally resorting to the use of a snowball. Bleary eyed and majorly hung over, the young man stared at the snow resentfully. “I ‘ate snow. Mam never said it brought anythin’ good.”

“It doesn’t snow every week, Allan,” Much chirped happily, making a neat pile out of snow. “We can make the most of using it to freeze the meat for winter.”

“What’s wrong with salt? Salt doesn’t wake you up!”

“Allan, Much, shut up,” John growled, his own head banging from drink and the cold.

Robin stared out impatiently from his perch at the opening of the cave. Wrapped in furs and leather, the cold bothered him little. It was the slowness of his team that infuriated him and left him barking orders and biting his lip.

“Allan, stop moaning! Much and John, just leave him and get on with it! Djaq, now’s not the time…” The Saracen woman glared at him reproachfully as she admired her snow angel.