“Who was it, then?” Tuck asked, his face sour.

“Godfrey Mason,” Rob told him.

Tuck pulled back. “Godfrey? No. Wasn’t him, Rob.”

“I wish it wasn’t, but it was.”

“But he’s such a good lad. Always been right awed by you too. If he did—and I’m not saying so—he must have done it for Ravenna. Maybe they’re in trouble.”

Robin shook his head. “No. Perhaps, but I don’t believe so. Until I find out otherwise, I need to be sure no one passes him information about my lads.”

Tuck nodded. “I’ll make sure of it. You and Scar head on back. I’ll get you some food.”

“Thank you, Tuck.”

We went into the back, and Rob sank onto the bench. “Do you think it was him, Scar?”

I slid in beside him, putting my hands on the table. “Yes. He’s a good kid, but he’s got a rotten father and a silly mother, and he’s got his sister depending on him—if she’s not married off soon.”

He nodded, reaching forward and flipping my hand over. “I think even in these times they want more money.”

I tried hard to swallow, staring at his hand touching mine. “Working for the sheriff would be good money.”

“Most likely.” Quick and sure, his thumb pushed over each finger, dragging lightning over my hand. “We played together as children, you know. My father hired his father to build half the Locksley estate. I’d been gone for those few years for the Crusades, but I always thought we were friends.”

His fingers slid into mine, locking into a grip. I were staring at the hair on the knuckles of his big hand. “Everyone thinks high of them. Ain’t no one doesn’t like the twins.”

“But to betray us?”

I hesitated. I knew I tended to see things different, but this were still hard to say right. I squeezed his hand and pulled my eyes up to his face. “As far as betraying goes, he didn’t get us pinched. It weren’t a trap, but Gisbourne thinks he got victory.”

Robin scowled. “That’s true. Why didn’t Gisbourne ambush us instead of burning the tree?”

“Maybe Godfrey will know.”

Robin pulled my hand under the table and didn’t let go till the lads arrived.

Godfrey made a bit of a mistake that night. Tuck told people to keep their traps shut, of course, and he had to tell them why. John heard, and so did all the customers of Friar Tuck’s. Godfrey showed up well into the night, which meant most of the men were more than a drink down.

When Godfrey appeared, the place busted open, attacking Godfrey and launching into a drunken brawl. I understood that. It made big men feel better to hit someone when they were scared, and God knew everyone were scared these days.

He took a few punches, but I managed to squirrel him out while the bar were heaving without anyone noticing him gone. I tugged him around the building to the back door.

“What in God’s name was that?” he demanded, spitting out some blood.

I crossed my arms. “You know.”

His face went white. “They all know?”

I nodded. “You want to be marshal?”

He sighed. “Look, my parents want to marry Ravenna off to a Frenchman. A Frenchman. If I can start my own household, she can live with me.”

“You near cracked Robin.”

He hit the wall. “I figured.”

“Maybe you should be talking to him,” I told him.

“I’m listening,” Rob said, coming from behind me. He must have followed us out.

Godfrey’s face went all kinds of mournful. “No one got hurt, did they? I told them that’s where you pass messages with the townspeople, not that you live there.”

“We’re all right.”

“I’m sorry, Rob. Gisbourne wanted the information or he said he’d throw me in the prison.”

Rob nodded. “It’s all right. We just can’t tell the townspeople anything anymore. And that will include you, Godfrey, but I’m not singling you out.”

“I know. And I suppose I’ll get a rough shake from the townspeople, then.”

“Probably. But come on, we’ll see what we can do to fix that.”

Rob put his arm around Godfrey’s shoulders and brought him in through the back door. It weren’t a moment or two that John appeared, kicking a bucket so hard it split in two.

“Unhappy?” I asked him.

He spun around to look at me, and then kicked a bucket bit again. “He betrayed us and Rob’s welcoming him back. He’s a rat!”

“Thought I were a rat.”

He wedged his hands onto his hips and looked at me. “Different sort. Your kind of rat isn’t so bad.”

“He did what he thought he had to, John.”

“Christ, I don’t get you, Scar. You spit with venom at the likes of the thief taker and the sheriff, but other than that, you can’t judge a living soul.”

“I’m a thief. Ain’t got so much moral ground to stand on.”

He gave me a little smile at that. “I suppose. I still think Robin’s a fool.”

“We both know he’s no fool.”

He looked at me, his eyes running over my face. He came closer, and I were against the wall, so my heart started to flutter-beat in my chest. I didn’t much like feeling trapped. He palmed my hat, pushing it back.

“What are you doing?” I asked, pulling away.