Adele came a little closer. "It's just that, well, I figured I might never see you again. And I didn't want you to go before… That is, I really need to tell you something, Robert."
He pressed his face up against his horse, closing his eyes. "Adele, look-"
"No, let me finish. Please." He heard the woman come closer, now only a couple of feet away from him. When he opened his eyes he saw there was a figure just over her shoulder, her cheeks red from the cold, hair tied back. Mary. He was frightened that she would run off again, get the wrong impression about what was going on. But she didn't. Instead, she coughed politely, causing Adele to start.
"Jack's looking for you," Mary notified her when she turned around.
"But I was just… I needed to talk to Robert for a moment," she said, facing him again, in the hope he'd back her up.
"You should go and find Jack," Robert advised her.
Adele looked like she was going to say something. Instead she gave an almost imperceptible nod and left the stables. Mary watched her go, a mixture of concern and resentment in her expression. Then she focused on Robert.
"I…" he began, but realised he didn't know what to say. But he didn't really need to. Mary walked over, quickening her pace the nearer she came. Then their arms were open, and they held each other; grabbing on as if they felt the other person might just float away if they weren't anchored down. Robert thought about making a nervous joke, something along the lines of: 'You're not going to drug me this time, are you?' but thought better of it.
The time for jokes, the time for talking, the time for arguing and recriminations, was long over. They knew they may not be together again.
As they kissed, the world fell away. Both Robert and Mary wished that this moment would never end. She took his hand, and led him up to the entrance of the castle; then finally up the stairs to their room, where they would try and make the next couple of hours last an entire lifetime.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The army was using open ground to travel between urban locations, that much they'd been able to ascertain from radio messages. And they had a rough idea of where they were, too: somewhere between Doncaster and Gainsborough.
Robert had sent out advance scouts to get a proper sense of the route this war machine was taking now that they'd regrouped and were heading for Nottingham. It had allowed him and his men to lay in wait, to prepare for the confrontation to come. But, as dawn broke and they watched from behind a scattering of trees not unlike those he'd left behind in Sherwood, it would have been easy to mistake this for a normal winter's morning in the English countryside.
Holding up the binoculars, Robert scanned the horizon. There was nothing to see yet. He glanced over his shoulder at the division of men with him, some sitting on horseback, others standing leaning on their bows. He knew there were more ringing these fields, spread out to cause the maximum amount of confusion when the Russian troops arrived. Robert was just about to put the binoculars up to his eyes again when he heard Dale on the left of him say: "Listen… Do you hear that?"
Not only could Robert hear it, he could feel the vibrations coming up through the ground. Something was coming, something big. No, as he brought the binoculars up and focused on the spot he'd been watching, Robert realised that many big things were coming.
The jeeps were first, cresting the hill, bringing with them men swarming like ants — each one wearing a grey uniform and carrying a machine gun. Then came the back-up: tanks. More than De Falaise had dreamed of. More than Robert had ever seen, and there'd been a fair few at the Frenchman's command. But that wasn't all. Armoured personnel carriers and other armoured vehicles, some of which could be mistaken for tanks themselves were it not for the wheels instead of caterpillar tracks and shorter cannons. Then there were the motorbikes, their drone almost drowned out by their larger companions. They nipped in-between, churning up the grass beneath.
"Jesus," said one of the men behind Robert. "How are we supposed to fight… that?"
Robert had to admit, although he didn't show it, he'd expected something slightly smaller; more in keeping with what they'd dealt with before. A part of him was now wondering if he'd made the right decision, bringing these men — some of them only boys, like Dale — out here to face what appeared to be insurmountable odds. And Tate's words came back to him:
"I wouldn't be the first one to say this, but are you sure you shouldn't take some of those things along yourself when you meet this army of yours?"
Those things, those reminders of De Falaise and his rule… But when you were fighting men like De Falaise, shouldn't you meet them on a level playing field — even the odds as much as you could? Robert shook his head. That wasn't the way — he was sure of it. Old Eric Meadows had been sure of it… He just had to have faith that his plan would work, that they could catch bigger prey with the same methods he'd used back in the forest (keep well out of sight, always let them come out into the open — then deliver your surprise).
"We'll fight them," Robert said in answer to the man's question. "And as long as we stick together, we'll win. They won't be expecting an attack like this one."
"Too right!" said another Ranger. "Who'd be crazy enough to do it?"
Robert looked over his shoulder once more and grinned. "We would. Now ready yourself."
"Time to get up on stage and do our thing," Dale ran on, though all the usual cockiness was gone from his voice.
"Time to do our thing," agreed Robert.
If it was going to happen, it would happen here. Bohuslav was counting on it.
As he rode in the lead jeep, he surveyed the area in front of him, not with a pair of binoculars, but with his hawkish and unnaturally sharp vision. They were out there somewhere, he was certain. Did they not think that their little attack would be anticipated? Far from being herded into this stretch of countryside, he and his men were actually hoping to bring Hood's forces out into the open, let them do their worst, then wipe them from the face of the Earth. They'd allowed themselves to be seen, allowed the radio messages to get through without interference purely for this purpose. Hood's scouts had even been spotted trying to determine which direction their army was heading.
Oh, was he in for a shock.
Yet Bohuslav didn't really want to be here. As much as he loved the thrill of slaughter — though it would never replace the kick he got from capturing and killing people on a one-to-one basis — he was uncomfortable about this whole operation. He was proud The Tsar had left him in charge of such a legion, but couldn't help wishing he was with his superior right now. The thought of that bastard Tanek whispering in his master's ear was almost too much to bear. Bohuslav knew the swarthy giant was trying to worm his way in, but there was only room for one second, for one murdering psychopath on the team. Once this was all over, Tanek might well find his throat being slit in the night… If Bohuslav was quick enough to take him. He remembered back to the hovercraft, the knife Tanek was about to stab him with even as Bohuslav had his own blade poised to strike. Not much scared Bohuslav, but the thought of killing Tanek was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
But that was for the future. Right now, there was one small thing to do and he needed to keep himself sharp to accomplish it.
Before he could turn his attentions to Tanek, Bohuslav must rid the world of this new version of Robin Hood.
No sooner had Bohuslav thought this than he saw something down below, not much bigger than his thumb from this distance. It was a man on horseback — who had appeared, quite literally, out of nowhere. His head was bowed, but even if this wasn't the case, Bohuslav wouldn't have been able to see his features because he had a cowl pulled over them.