Robert did. He'd assumed — wrongly as it turned out — that Jack had been sent into the woods to assassinate him. He was actually auditioning, as he called it (Jack and his movies!) for the role of the man in front of them. One of the old Hood's most faithful companions. It had worked out similarly this time around as well, Robert had to agree. He didn't know now what he'd do without the hulking American by his side.
Robert lit a couple of torches, then led Mark inside a big building off to their left, forcing open a stiff door. As they stepped inside, Mark could see through into a deserted shop on his right. It looked like a cave filled with ancient treasure. Cobwebs covered everything: from toy bows and swords, to hats with feathers in them; from mugs and plates to pens, badges and notebooks. Ahead of them, though, was an exhibition — which, via winding corridors, told the history of the original Hooded Man. Robert took them past another statue of that man, in a more familiar pose, about to fire an arrow. This, too, was covered in cobwebs. As they ventured further inside, there were more representations, including one of the Sheriff of Nottingham in full panto villain mode, rubbing his chin.
"What are we doing here?" asked Mark. "It's all a bit creepy."
Robert knew what he meant: the parallels were too close for comfort. But there was a purpose, as he showed him soon enough. Behind the wooden walls of these displays Robert had hidden an entire arsenal of weapons. Dotted throughout the exhibition were dozens of real bows and swords, bolas made from twine and rocks, and quivers bristling with arrows, even spare clothes. It was his own private stash.
"The stock room we passed on the way in was far too obvious, plus I didn't want them all in one place," he explained. "I came back a while ago. Thought I'd leave all this in case of an emergency."
"What kind of emergency?"
Robert shrugged. "It wouldn't be an emergency if I knew in advance."
The boy was studying his features in the light from the burning torches. "You've never really considered that castle your home, have you?" Once again, he had to hand it to him — the fount of all knowledge. "Is that why you left this lot, because you thought you'd be back one day?"
Robert didn't answer that. "I just wanted to show someone. Not even Mary knows."
Mark gave Robert a hand to conceal the weapons again, then they made their way up and through the final winding corridor. Before they came to the exit, both of them paused. There was a display on their right. Behind cracked and smeared glass was an arrow embedded in some earth. "'And where this arrow is taken up,'" read Mark, "'There shall my grave be.'"
Robert pushed him out by the shoulder. "Not yet you don't."
The pair headed deep into the forest, with Robert preferring to make a new camp rather than seeking out an old one.
He'd noticed a change in himself almost as soon as he'd entered this place. His body had relaxed, but was still coiled and ready to attack if provoked; just like it had been when he'd first moved here. His mind was also more balanced than it had been in a long time. Robert had seen Sherwood in all seasons, so the bare trees were not a shock to him — in fact they only added to the beauty of the place on this winter's day, especially with that sprinkling of snow on them.
When they'd found the right spot — somewhere that was hard to locate if an intruder might be looking for it, but gave them a clear 360? view of the area — they set up their camp. "Your base camp should be the safest location in your territory," Robert said.
"This is all so cool," Mark told him. "Do you know how often I wished you'd teach me all this stuff when we were here before?"
Robert gave a half smile. "Well now I am, so pay attention."
He went through how to make a lean-to, using branches for poles and whatever foliage they could find — not easy at this time of year — then how to make a bed out of moss.
"Okay, time to go hunting," announced Robert. Nothing big at first, in fact just a couple of hares which they staked out near a warren. "Rabbits and hares don't hibernate in the winter," Robert explained in hushed tones, "but fortunately for us they become slower and less active to conserve energy. So they're easier to catch when they're rattled. Now keep well out of sight. Always let them come out into the open — then deliver your surprise."
Mark had grumbled a little about preying on such easy targets but, as Robert informed him, when you lived out here sometimes meat was in short supply. You took what you could find. Besides which, hare was tasty.
When they returned to camp, Robert taught him how to make a fire, tucking away the lighter and forcing Mark to use the tried and tested method of rubbing sticks together. When the boy had built up a sweat, Robert chuckled and finally showed him the easier way of using a little bow to create friction, feeding the flames when they began to catch light.
That night they cooked the animals over a spit and talked more about their time together here before. Most of the stories were preceded by: "Do you remember when?" and Robert was surprised by how many ended with them both laughing. It had been a trying period, out here waiting to be discovered or killed by De Falaise's troops, but it was also, in some ways, a happy time. With each moment that passed during that evening, Robert was more convinced he'd done the right thing by bringing Mark here.
As the fire died down a little, Robert caught Mark resting against his backpack and looking at his missing finger, lost in thought. "You still think about what happened back then, don't you?"
"Don't you?" Mark said, tossing aside a piece of bone that had been picked clean and taking a swig of the water they'd made from boiling down the plentiful supply of snow.
Robert nodded. "It takes a while to come to terms with our demons, whatever shape they take."
"Is this about facing your fear again?"
"Sort of. Only sometimes we get to face it in the flesh." Robert poked the fire, then jabbed a finger at it. "That was one of mine."
"Yeah, I remember what happened when the Mexican used those incendiary grenades. It sent you almost to pieces."
Robert stared directly at him. "It made me weak, that fear."
"Some folk might say it made you human," Mark countered.
"Then being human can get you killed."
"Or save you. Are you ever going to tell me why it frightens you so much?"
Buried memories intruded now: his house on fire, the knowledge that the men in yellow suits were cooking his wife and son, dead upstairs in the bedroom. His dog, Max, limping out, fur alight…
Robert ignored the question, and rolled onto his back, looking up into the night sky. "The stars seem so much clearer out here. Everything's clear, in fact. No distractions."
"You're going to have to open up someday," he heard Mark comment. "To me, Mary. Maybe even Reverend Tate."
"What I'm doing now," Robert broke in, totally off topic, "with you, I mean. Someone else did the same with me. His name was Eric Meadows. He showed me the ropes."
"I don't underst-"
"And do you know the most important thing, the first thing I learned from him?" Robert couldn't see Mark shaking his head, but he knew the boy was doing it. "To keep my mouth shut and listen." He rolled back onto his side, resting his head against his hand and looking past the fire at Mark. "He was older than me, more experienced. So I listened."
Mark looked down into the fire. "And was there ever a time when you were able to help him?"
Like most of Mark's questions, this caught him off guard, but his mind automatically supplied an answer. Another memory, not buried, just forgotten until now. Of Robert and Eric being called to a fight in a bar, where two twenty-somethings had decided to kick off over a girl who looked like she wanted nothing to do with either of them. By the time they'd arrived, the men were smashing bottles and throwing punches, so Eric had been the first to wade in. What he hadn't spotted was that one of the guys had mates in the corner, who came at Eric and were about to glass him when Robert stepped in. Several years down the line from the first collar he'd made, and he was a different officer. Confident, though not a risk-taker (because he had a wife to return to and they were planning on starting a family soon), but able to assess a situation like this and turn it to his advantage.