Captain Rogers?" she said. "Never heard of him." Robin chugged her ale and slammed the mug on the table. "But you say he's a treasure chest."
The monk shrugged. "He's a pirate and built a name for himself overnight. Pirate or king. Still a greedy bastard."
Pirates in monster ships started sailing the seas years ago. Just like Rogers. They emerged from the mist and never left.
A pirate? Never had one of those." Excited, she flapped her mugless hand a few times. "Tuck. Tuck, why don't you come back with us? We miss you."
I'm too old, Robin. And I've taken my vows."
She tossed her head back and groaned. "You're no fun."
Where else are you going to get reliable hits? You have a bounty over your head."
"What's it at now?"
Jack cackled, and she turned to him. "You've been quiet. What's your take?"
"Let's take down the treasure chest. The usual. No arguments from me."
"I'd like an argument from you. It gets old having someone who always agrees with me."
He sipped his ale, smirking. "I'll argue about that."
"How exactly do we find a pirate, Tuck? A fucking rowboat?" She had been so excited that she forgot logistics. And maybe the ale was partially to blame. She couldn't tell anymore.
Tuck shook his head. "Patience--"
"You know I don't have that!"
He stifled a smile. Part of being a boring man of God, she guessed. But he ignored her interruption, although he made a point of drawing out his next words to irritate her. "Patience, usually. But I have word that his ship is headed towards the port. Suffered some sort of injury."
"You know I play fair," she said, her playfulness gone in an instant. "I will not steal from a man when he can't even stand up to catch me in the act."
"Oh, there's plenty of risk. Remember. He has a crew. And as for him standing, that won't be a problem. Word is he lost a hand."
She looked past him as he clarified. Robin never looked anyone in the eye. She tried but could never get herself to. A person tells too much through their eyes, and she could never pay attention to their words when their eyes were a mystery.
It made for a great rumor about the legendary "Robin Hood, who looks no one in the eyes." Whatever the hell that means. But she was fine with it, since that seemed to scare the upper tier of society.
"Sword hand?"
"I heard he can use both!" Jack interjected.
"How the hell do you know about Rogers when I don't?"
"I don't always brood in the forest with you."
Rude.
"Are we sure Rogers is a man?" Robin questioned.
Tuck considered her. "All pirates are men, Robin."
"All pirates so far," she corrected. "Men don't pop out of nowhere like Rogers. There's always a trail because they aren't usually considering safety. A woman knows how to hide her tracks."
"Maybe there's a trail we haven't heard of," Jack said.
"I'll task you to finding out and reporting to me."
"Already planned on it."
Jack and Robin left the chapel at the time of night when the only whisper of life was the warm smell of spices and vanilla from the covered market carts. The monastery was in the rich part of Nottingham, safe from the average shit-smelling streets. Jack stretched and yawned. "Any interest in the brothels tonight?"
"You always ask, and I always say no."
"Because your heart will always go to Marianne," he said mockingly. "It has been ten years, Robin. She's probably dead. What kind of fuck was it to make you not want to fuck anyone else for ten years?"
She rolled her eyes. "No. Not because of Marianne," she said. And she wasn't lying. She didn't think of the girl with the wild, brown curls in the tiny village by the sea much anymore. But the reminder of her made the healed scar ache. "Because I'm exhausted and need to think of a plan to rob a pirate ship."
Marianne's voice echoed in her head.
"This was just a shared loss, Robin. Just that." [M]
Okay, well now, she certainly wasn't going to a brothel. If Jack kept reminding her, then she never would. Fuck it. "And she is dead. You know."
He raised his eyebrows. "How'd you-"
"I risked going back two years later. The entire town was razed."
"You never told me."
"That's not true, and you know that's not true." [R]
She shook her head, preferring not to get into it. In fact, there was a glimmer of hope of Marianne being alive if a record she found was right. But it wasn't anything Robin would stake her life on. She'd given up on looking a long time ago.
"I'm going back to the camp, Jack. You have fun. Remember to pay them extra." She threw a small pouch of coins at him. "They get paid shit."
"Are you sure?" he asked, counting the coins with wide eyes.
"Go get your cock wet before I change my mind."
Jack didn't need her to repeat herself, and he scurried off towards the inner streets.
"I love you." [M]
"Are you sure?" [R]
"No." [M]
-----
The wait wasn't long. In three days, Captain Rogers' ship was spotted on the horizon.
She decided only she would go in. Usually, she'd have a backup, but she could climb the ship in the dark of night and be invisible. Over one person would alert the crew.
Fishers and sailors scurried to relocate their boats. A line of wealthy swerved around the bank, waiting to withdraw their valuables. On any normal day, they wouldn't be caught waiting for anything in public. Robin smirked. Rogers wasn't known to raid villages, but there's a first time for everything. Anything that made gold hoarders panic was fine with her.
What did Rogers raid exactly? Robin tossed this question around in her mind. Was he worth stealing from if he wasn't harming anyone? She was only acting based on hearsay and rumors. Not her usual fat cat target like those waiting in front of the bank. It was tempting to frighten them a bit by spreading rumors "Robin Hood" was in town, but she was supposed to be keeping a low profile.
Didn't want to disappoint Tuck again.
The "wanted" posters depicting her bore no resemblance, but she switched out her green cloak with a velvet black cape that felt too heavy. The town of Nottingham was large. So large that no one would look for familiar faces. They were too worried about the pirates on the horizon.
Worried and spellbound, but they'd never admit it. She was willing to admit to herself, however, that she was at least a little curious.
The ship arrived at midday a day earlier than expected. A hush fell over the square while the ship aligned with the dock. A few figures stayed in dark corners, hoping to not be noticed, but brave enough to marvel.
And a marvel the Witch of Wellfleet was.
New captain. New ship. It looked like it had just been built yesterday. The paint was unblemished on the sides. The wood gleamed from varnish. Even Robin couldn't help but have an odd sense of awe when it docked. It was the largest ship she had ever seen. Tall sails stretched to the sky. So much further than should be possible. But it wasn't large just to be large. It seemed every inch had a purpose. It was like the ship was from another time.
She had heard that pirate ships were a category of their own, far departed from any cog, but she didn't expect one to be massive. She didn't expect the sails to be large enough to capture heaven.
Doubt tugged on her sleeve. Was this a usual treasure chest? Would taking from Rogers truly benefit anyone? The crew members were not as fearsome as she expected. The few descending to the markets laughed amongst themselves. No evil in their eyes.
Tuck, you better not be wrong on this...
But he had as keen of instinct for corruption as she did. Pirates didn't keep their corruption a secret, though. That was the difference. But did it make one to her?
Still, something fascinated her about pirates. She knew nothing about them, but was curiosity such a bad thing? It was what kept her alive for this long.
The sun crept below the horizon, and Robin stood. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she tossed off her cape.
She walked a distance away from the ship and stood at the edge of the sea. Again, she thought of Marianne for a heartbeat. The girl who was "born of the sea" like Aphrodite. Robin couldn't look at the sea without thinking of her.
Nottingham's shore was sharp and rugged, like it was ripped out of the earth and never meant to be by the sea. She walked into the dark water until she was chest-deep and sucked in her breath before going under. The moon illuminated just enough that Robin could see a path to the ship.
When she reached the stern, she felt around for the anchor. It was only a few feet beside her. Excellent. Grabbing the rope, she hoisted herself to the surface, drawing in a silent gasp of air.
She reached the top and surveyed the deck. No one except a few drunk pirates on the far end. The rest would be guarding the entrance, she thought, hopping over the edge.
She knew how to find treasure. It would always be in the safest place a desperate treasure chest could think of. The basement or cellar. What kind of person was Rogers? Not knowing made her nervous.
"Fuck it," Robin muttered before tiptoeing to the back of the ship. The middle entrance would lead to the captain's quarters. If Tuck was right, she would just need to go through the office to find a hatch leading to the captain's private cargo hold. No candlelight peered through the glass. Rogers wasn't in there.
Robin turned the handle and stepped in, closing the door carefully behind her. Her gamble had paid off. No one was there. The only sounds were her breath and the gentle creak of the ship. She straightened from her crouch and investigated.
The desk in the center of the room made her feel like she was being watched, and despite her curiosity about what a pirate would have on a desk, she wanted to get in and get out with as much as she could swim to shore with. She noted the ornate door that likely led to Rogers' bed.
But she stopped and held her breath when she noticed another sound. A barely discernible clicking.
Click. Pause. Click. Pause. Click.
At first, she thought it was the sound of someone's footsteps, but traced the beat to a wooden circle hanging on the wall.
Behind a clear cover of glass, there were three sticks surrounded by numbers. Two gold and the smallest silver. The silver one moved-on its own-to the pace of the click.
What was moving it? Now, her curiosity was stronger than her wariness. She brought her hand to the glass and found a latch that opened the cover. Swinging it open, she touched the silver stick, feeling the thin metal. So thin, she could hardly feel it. The average yeoman would think only witchcraft could explain such a device. She knew better.
Tuck's monastery held hundreds of scientific devices in storage. The monks toyed with them even when they weren't supposed to. Plates that could track the stars. Intricate locks that required much more than a key to open. Little contraptions put together by artisans in Greece and Rome once upon a time.
This circle reminded her of astrolabes. Tracking the stars. Was that what this was for?
A thud sounded from the next room. This one was undoubtedly human. Shit. She scurried to a corner, fully intending to pretend she was invisible, but found a hatch. Perfect. She lifted the door and jumped into the dark room, striking the wood floor with her knee.
Motherfucker.
She stifled her cry of shock, but she squeezed her eyes in regret when the hatch clanged loudly back into position. Wincing and bruised, she found she was surrounded by crates and barrels.
This was what was in the captain's storage? There was no time to question where the treasure was. Above her, heavy boots thudded closer the grate. She scurried around the barrels trying to find the corner she would have the best chance of leaving alive.
She was fucked. The hatch opened with a long, metallic scream before it hit the ground with a thud.
Robin found a small crack between two crates and squeezed between them. The only thing she had going for her was that her knee wasn't broken. There was no way she would get out of this, nevertheless, her instincts were to frantically concoct every possible escape plan in her head even knowing there were none.
The captain's descent down the ladder was slow and uneven, and he paused at the bottom. Just for a second.
"I know you're in here," Rogers said.
Fuck, she knew that voice.
Before she could stop herself, she was in the open facing the so-called Captain Rogers. She couldn't keep her mouth from hanging open.
"A pretty girl like you must have a name." [R]
She was in her nightgown, but there was no mistake. It was her. Her dark curls were wilder now, and the beginnings of age marked the edge of her eyes. One hand held a pistol, and the other was wrapped in a cast. Well, where there was once a hand.
Marianne lowered the pistol. "It's been a while."
"Hah!" Robin said, leaning against the wall. "How'd you manage this?"
I suppose you are wondering the same, reader. How did I manage this?