Robyn and the Hoodettes Read Free Page A

straight for them.
    “ Hide!” Robyn said.
    They made a dash for the shrubs growing beside the road. They
must have been young holly bushes, for they still had green leaves
but they were spiky and bit into her bare foot.
    The Sheriff’s horses, pulling two carriages behind them like a
double trailer, came into view.
    That’s when Robyn cursed the horse afresh.
    The dense beast stood on the road, in full view.
    Whisper-shouting, Robyn called out, “Get down
here!”
    Oh that horse, she’s going to be the death of me.
    Hiding in the shrubbery, Joan whispered “Stay here”, then she
grabbed a tree branch, pulled her hood over her head and hobbled
out to the road pretending to be years older.
    “ There ye are ye great nag.” S he did something to her voice to sound
like an oldie as well.
    “ Ho there!” A man’s voice said.
    “ Ho-ho to you,” Joan answered, sounding confident and
jolly.
    Knees folded awkwardly under her chin, Robyn heard a series of
creaks from the timber as several men climbed down from the
carriages to get a better look at Joan. Any second now they would
take back their horse. Oh no! What if they accused Joan of stealing
Shadow? She had to do something to help her friend.
    “ Get your stinking nag off the King’s Road!” A man
ordered.
    Wait, what? Could these men not tell a prime horse from a
hack?
    “ Go on, off with you!” Another voice said, cracking in the
middle. It sounded like a really young lad who was trying to sound
older, as if willing his voice to break.
    Through the shrubbery, Robyn saw the shapes of five . . . no,
seven men . . . walking towards Joan to get her and the animal out
of their way.
    “ She’s only got one other speed, and it’s slower,” Joan said,
adding that wheeze old people made so well.
    The way Joan acted, maybe her first parents hadn’t been giants
after all, but travelling minstrels. Seeing how distracted the men
were, Robyn grew emboldened. As silently as possible, she crept
towards the second carriage. Someone had roughly attached it to the
first carriage so they could haul it with them. Would they tow it
all the way to Nottingham? According to the map her father had once
scratched out on her cottage floor–“Not to scale, you understand,”
he’d said–Nottingham was a whole day’s ride away. Sheffield was
closer, although Robyn had never been there either.
    Joan was still talking on the road up ahead, but it wouldn’t
be long before the men returned to the carriages. Sneaking a peak
inside, Robyn saw the sacks of wheat they’d taken from her village.
Sacks of milled flour were in here too, along with a roll of fabric
from the Miller cottage, and Marion’s tools. Things that rightly
belonged to Loxley.
    Whoever had attached the second carriage hadn’t done a very
good job. With a few quiet tugs and twists, she untied the
connecting rope. Heaving all her weight against it, she managed to
push the fully laden carriage five steps before something snapped
with a horrendous crack.
    “ What the devil?” One of the men shouted.
    Robyn grabbed the first thing she could reach and swung it
around hard. It connected with a man’s stomach; he fell to the
ground with a grunt. Whoa, that was easy! Then Robin noticed she’d
whacked him with Marion’s blacksmith hammer. No wonder he’d gone
down with the first swing.
    More thwacks and whacks filled the air.
    “ Joan!” Robyn raced towards the sound of snapping wood and
shouting people. Poor Joan, it would be six against one. The poor
girl didn’t stand a–
    “ Who hoo!” Joan swung her branch like a long staff, whacking
the men into each other. They staggered backwards, regained their
footing, then bolted for the safety of the front carriage, locking
themselves in.
    “ Come back and fight me!” Joan said as she bashed her stick
against the door.
    Looking around, Robyn saw four men sprawled on the road, each
of them groaning or holding their palms up in surrender.
    “ Get on your wagon,”