Nevertheless, the man had seen little action since undertaking his work at the castle. The legend of The Hooded Man might have spread, but the reality of the situation was very different. Which was probably why he'd started to brush up on his basics again, why he'd begun going out on missions in spite of the fact Mary didn't want him to. She said there was no reason to risk his life anymore, but every reason to stay safe. Mark felt guilty about that; like maybe he was the one who'd started Robert thinking about it again. But he was only saying what all the men thought. If they felt like he was hiding away behind a wall, while they tackled who knows what, then their respect for him wouldn't last.
As Mark made his way down the steps, he spotted something that cheered him up. Coming down the main path was Mary, and she wasn't alone. Walking with her, on this crisp February morning, was a girl he'd recognise anywhere. He remembered the first time he'd seen her, in a small village, standing across the way in that yellow summer dress, freckles dotting her cheeks.
Sophie. Lovely Sophie. A couple of years older than him, she'd fixed Mark a drink and then quizzed him about his time with The Hooded Man, flashing that gorgeous smile of hers.
But even that memory was tinged with sadness. The Sheriff's men bursting in, attempting to take her with them… until Mark intervened; until he'd taken her place as a hostage. Then outside, the guys he'd travelled there with to return stolen food: all dead. Massacred in cold blood.
When things had died down, when he'd recovered from his ordeal at the castle, he'd been surprised to get a visit from her. Mary had knocked on his door and told him there was someone to see him. "She came looking for you."
"Who is it?"
It had been so unexpected, but he was delighted to see her. So delighted he'd almost tripped over on the way to give her a hug.
"Sophie! What are you doing here?"
"That's nice."
"No, no… That's not what I meant… I just…"
"Relax," she said, grinning an impish grin and hitting him on the arm playfully. "I'm just messing with you. I came to bring you this." Sophie reached into a bag and brought out a battered photo album. "Here you go. I found it after the soldiers left."
Mark's mouth dropped open. He thought he'd never see that again. It had been taken off him as he was bundled into the back of one of the Sheriff's armoured trucks. He turned the pages, and they transported him back to a time not just before the castle, but before the world went crazy.
"Oh, and here," said Sophie, handing him a single photograph. It was the one of Mark with his real parents that the scarred soldier, Jace, tore up. Sophie had picked up the trampled pieces and taped them together again.
Mark didn't know what to say, so he hugged her again.
"Easy tiger," she'd said, laughing.
"I'm… I'm sorry," Mark said when he let go. "It's just this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. You came all this way."
Sophie looked him in the eye. "You're forgetting, I owe you mister. If it hadn't been for you I'd have been driven off in that truck, and God knows what would have happened to me. I certainly know what those men wanted to do."
"It was my pleasure."
"Hardly," said Sophie, taking his hand. "Mary told me about what happened. Thank you." Then she kissed him gently on the cheek. As Mary had taken her away to get some food, Mark rubbed the spot on his face where her lips had just been, and couldn't help imagining what they would feel like brushing against his own.
He'd asked Robert immediately if Sophie could stay and he'd said of course. He remembered her, too, from the village — after they'd gone there looking for Mark. He also recognised a certain look in Mark's eye. One that told him exactly how Mark felt about the girl.
Even now, after months of her being here, his heart felt like it would break out of his chest whenever he saw Sophie. Hormones, his head told him. That's all. But he couldn't help the way he felt. What he didn't know was whether Sophie felt the same. They'd spent a lot of time together, but he still had no idea whether she just wanted to be friends or something more. And now things were even more complicated.
Mark made his way past the trainees and down the path. Sophie was dressed in a thick parka, trousers and boots. It was a million miles away from what she'd worn the day they met, but she still looked beautiful.
He was about to shout across to them when he heard a bellow come from one of the gatehouse crew. "Green Leader is back!"
Both Mary and Sophie turned at the same time, to see the gates open wide. A number of men on horseback rode through, Robert — hood drawn — leading the way, with Jack not far behind. It was good to see them again, and in one piece, because Mark knew they'd been after some very dangerous men in York. There were no prisoners with them, however, which meant that they'd either been unsuccessful or they'd already dropped them off at one of the nearby hotels they used as jails — a step up from the caves De Falaise had favoured, and more than some of the prisoners warranted.
Mark watched the rest of the men ride in, spotting another figure he knew all too well.
Dale.
The twenty-three year old had joined them the previous summer, breezing in like something out of a US soap opera. His cropped hair and model looks belied the skill with which he fought. Many of the women under their protection had gone nuts over this guy — in fact he would be the pin-up hunk of the castle if such a thing existed any more. It didn't help that he'd once sung lead vocal for a band called One Simple Truth, and insisted, even now, on writing songs and strumming them out on that guitar of his to pass the time.
Mark knew it was only jealousy; not only was Dale older than him, he was also much cooler. In fact he was everything Mark should be, including the first choice for missions like this one. And here he was, not even on the long list for training sessions yet. It just wasn't fair.
Watch those hormones, Mark…
But his jaw set firm when he saw Sophie run over to the men on horseback. Over to Dale's horse. Mark carried on down the path, noticing how Mary hurried over to Robert, who was climbing down off his horse, wincing as he did so.
"Robert! Oh my God, are you all right?" Mark heard her ask.
Robert gave one of his trademark silent nods.
"He's just a little sore, aren't you, Robbie?" Jack swung down from his own mount, handing over the reins to a lad who'd come down from the castle's stables. "We saw a bit of action, y'see."
"Action?" Mary looked from Jack to Robert, her forehead crinkling; then, carefully, she pulled down his hood. "Oh no, look at you." There was indeed a nasty purple bruise on his chin. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" She was examining him now for any other wounds, and stopped dead when she saw the cut across the front of his jacket.
Robert pulled away. "Mary, don't fuss… please. I'm fine."
"But you might not have been. I asked you not to go, but you went anyway and — "
"If he hadn't I might not still be alive." Mark looked up to see a woman riding behind one of the Rangers. She had short, black hair, and a striking face; high cheekbones and perfectly plump lips. The Ranger helped her down from the horse and she walked over to Robert and Mary, then stood between them. "He saved my life."
Mary looked the woman up and down. "And who are you?"
"Her… her name's Adele. I said she could return with us to the castle."