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    Sherwood Forest: Sins of the Father
    Sherwood Forest: Sins of the Father
    Sherwood Forest: Sins of the Father
    Ebook65 pages1 hour

    Sherwood Forest: Sins of the Father

    By Laura McVey

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    About this ebook

    When an unexpected ally arrives in Nottingham, Will is torn over who he can trust. Meanwhile, Alice seeks revenge on Gisbourne and Allan contemplates his loyalties.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLaura McVey
    Release dateOct 15, 2014
    ISBN9781311273543
    Sherwood Forest: Sins of the Father
    Author

    Laura McVey

    Laura McVey is a university graduate with a minor in history, though neither of these things seem to have done her any good yet. She writes stories about heroes and kissing.

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      Book preview

      Sherwood Forest - Laura McVey

      Sherwood Forest: Sins of the Father

      by Laura McVey

      Copyright 2014 Laura McVey

      Smashwords Edition

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

      or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,

      please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did

      not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your

      favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard

      work of this author.

      This game is ridiculous, Shaima said.

      Perhaps, Much replied with a shrug, but as we’ve nothing else to do and I haven’t heard you suggest anything, you might as well play. He leaned back against a tree, tucking his hands behind his head. So, my question: what would you rescue from your home, were it to burn down?

      My home’s already burned down, in case you’d forgotten, Will said, voice heavy with sarcasm. So I’m not sure that I have anything to add to this.

      Consider it wishful thinking, Much said, eyes hanging lazily half-closed. A chance to right the wrongs of the past, if only in your own head. Do you have an answer?

      Will sat back on his heels, chewing his lower lip. Honestly? The chapel Bible.

      Much snorted. I’d not judged you as particularly pious.

      I’m not, Will said, then glanced over at where Robin was fletching his arrows. That is- I believe in God, of course I do. It’s only that the Bible had been passed down through Robin’s family from father to father for generations, and it held a history of Nottingham going back to the Conquest. We’ll never get that knowledge back in full. There are men who can fill in bits and pieces, but the details have all been lost. He looked wistful. There was a story in there written by a man who claimed to have sailed into England with William the Conquerer and spoken to him personally. I wish I could remember more of it- how many first-hand accounts of him do we have?

      Plenty, Much said. But fair enough. Shaima?

      My sisters, she said without hesitation. But as Will said, I’m not sure I’m a good choice to play this game. My family home is still standing, so far as I know, but I have few hopes of returning there.

      It’s a chance to use your imagination, Much retorted. And you can’t pick a family member, that’s cheating. Assume they all left the house before you.

      Fine. She blew out a breath. Then I would probably seek out my mother’s wedding clothes and save them from the fire. Much snorted, and Shaima glared at him. She adored those clothes. It would have destroyed her to lose them.

      And nothing for yourself? he asked. You must have had some treasures of your own.

      She gave her answer, Will said, sparing Shaima from having to snap back. She nodded to him gratefully. It’s your turn now. What would you save?

      A somewhat limited question, I must admit, Much said with a yawn, given that my house only contained three goods at a time, on average, and most were pots and pans that wouldn’t burn or melt in a fire. But if I must . . . He pursed his lips. I’d take the cookpot. Valuable asset, that. If nothing else, I could sell it for the money I’d need to build a house.

      You must have some treasures of your own, Shaima mimicked, coarsening her voice with an English accent to replace her usual one. Much flicked a twig at her. You gave your answer, and I’ve given mine. Time for a new game. He stretched his arms over his head. What goods would you buy for your new house? Assume cost was no concern.

      That’s a fairly large assumption, Will said. Even Robin wouldn’t be able to build a new manor irrespective of cost.

      "That’s why it’s a game, Much said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. So we’re not constrained by reality. Now-"

      A sharp whistle pierced the air above them and made all three sit up and take notice. From his position in the corner, Robin rose to his feet. The whistle was followed by two similar blasts, then silence.

      John’s signal, Robin said briefly. The other three rose to their feet, grasping for weapons. To the road. Shaima, you stay behind. She opened to her mouth to complain, but Robin silenced her with a look. Someone needs to guard the camp, and today it’s your turn. Stay.

      I’m not a guard dog, she hissed under her breath, but she sank back down onto her knees. Will and Much grabbed their weapons- a bow in Will’s case and a short knife in Much’s- and scrambled up the slope after Robin.

      John was knelt at the top of the hill, where one of the roads into Nottingham passed by. Robin, John, and Marian hadn’t planned it that way when they’d created the campsite as children, but it worked out perfectly for them now. It let them spy on whoever was going in or out of Nottingham, be the peddlers or noblemen. It also (so Much insisted) provided them with an opportunity to gain more wealth when a particularly wealthy-looking carriage rolled by, but Robin had quashed the idea; they couldn’t risk giving away their location. For John to call them up just as a carriage train

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