“Dressed like that I think I do.” He cast about in the marketplace. “So where is Robin Hood?”

“Where he ought,” I said. “With his people.” We passed a shanty of a house on the edge of the marketplace, and two children were there, filthy and still, watching all the people go by.

Frowning, I turned back to the nearest bakers stall and gave the rest of my coin for bread. “You’re paying for things?” Allan said.

Lifting my shoulders, I went back toward the children. “Not my coin, so that ain’t quite so.”

He laughed. I gave a loaf to the two children and quick enough others came, and Allan were quick to take bread from my stack and rip it apart to spread round. “I’ve heard this is what you do,” he said. “Stealing to feed people.” His head went to the side. “It’s so … strange.”

“It’s what nobles do,” I said bitter. “Prince John feasting every night—he’s taking the game and the crops from the people of the shire, putting them to starve in winter. Least I ain’t stealing to feed myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “He’s stealing to feed his ego, not his belly. It hasn’t been so well tended these days.”

“His ego?”

Allan kept the last bit of bread for himself, and with the food gone, the children went too. He nodded, chewing. “You didn’t hear?”

I frowned. “I ain’t much for gossip.”

He stopped, swallowed, and then did a turn with a tuck of his cap, winking for show. “This is the royal court, fair thief. It lives on gossip, perception, and hearsay.” His hands spread wide. “Let me spin you a tale, then.”

He bowed and I crossed my arms.

With a shrug, he stood. “Well, when Richard left for the Holy Crusade, he kicked John to France. Told him to stay out of his country while he was away, and named his wee nephew his heir. Because God knows, Richard knows how to steal a crown—it was taught to him in the womb, so they say. Eleanor of Aquitaine herself incited her sons in rebellion against their father. And if he didn’t learn violence from her, then maybe from the Devil that bore them all.”

“Devil?” I asked.

“Oh aye, you haven’t heard that one either? Richard loves to boast of his Devil’s blood, begat when his ancestor wed a serpent.”

My eyes rolled. “Christ, you’re a fool.”

“Don’t let a few silly truths muddle up a good story,” he told me sharp.

I looked Heavenward, but there weren’t no help there. “What’s this about John’s ego?” I reminded.

He frowned. “Can’t appreciate a decent yarn. Something wrong in your head, Lady Scar. Richard kicked John out of England, and the bishops were bickering as bishops are wont to do, and Eleanor petitioned for John to come back. So Richard allows it, right, and John’s been setting up his own royal court outside of the bishops meant to rule in Richard’s stead. The two courts have been rising, both powerful, and fighting each other in petty ways. So Richard sends in the Archbishop from Rouen to keep the peace—and knock John’s legs out. Prince John makes his stand and he’s expecting everyone to rally to him, but they don’t. They keep Richard’s orders and leave John. So John runs north at Mummy’s command and is trying to win back the people’s hearts.”

I gawped at him. “So it’s true, then? He wants to change things around here?”

Allan laughed. “He wants … to make England his very own high-priced whore. He wants to feel loved without ever caring what it takes to earn the real thing. A little coin, a little bread, and watch England do her merry dance.”

My shoulders lifted. “So long as the whore is paid and eating, what’s the difference?”

He tossed his apple core onto the street. “Ask the whore.”

We were near the edge of Nottingham, and I saw the market and the castle beyond in one direction. I saw forest in the other, and my heart ached so fierce I almost set off for it, like wading into the ocean with no hope of swimming for distant shores. Allan were talking—for a thief he yapped an amount I could bare fathom—and I thought how easy it would be to just step over the road and into the forest.

“Scarlet!” he yelped, grabbing my dress and yanking me back as a carriage thundered past.

Landing on my backside, I stared up at the blue coach, hung with gold and the royal seal.

“You don’t want to be crushed by the Queen Mum,” he told me, giving me a hand up.

“That’s Eleanor of Aquitaine?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Her carriage, at least.”

“Scarlet,” said another voice, and this one were farther. The dust from her carriage cleared and Rob were there, looking dark and shadowed and haunted.

My blood ran fast to beating and my mouth hung open. I fair thought I’d know what to say to him, but I didn’t.

“Don’t tell me you’re Robin Hood,” Allan said, crossing his arms. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Robin strode across the road, stepping close to me, so close Allan weren’t even in my world anymore. I blinked and stared at him. Good Lord I couldn’t look at him but for thinking he held everything in my heart. It were a terrible power to keep over me.

“Who are you?” Robin asked, looking to Allan.

“Allan a Dale,” he said. “You sure you’re her man, because I’ll tell you, the stories I hear put you at about seven foot tall.” He paused, but I didn’t look to see his face. “And the stories I tell have you much more game for a laugh.”