Trouble in the Forest Book One: A Cold Summer Night by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro Page A

Whoever you are, I am—”
    A figure emerged from the darkness, a tall man in a long cloak: the hood was thrown back revealing a mane of bone-white hair. He held out empty hands. In long strides he approached Piers without a trace of fright, though he was apparently at a disadvantage. “The sword will avail you nothing, soldier.”
    “If you try, you will discover otherwise,” Piers countered, using all his will to keep from shaking. His sword felt heavier than he had ever imagined it could, and he suddenly regretted not wearing the pyx as Wroughton had ordered.
    “Such foolishness,” said the white-haired man, reaching out and seizing Piers’ wrist in a strong grip that reached all the way up his arm.
    Shame filled Piers as he felt his strength ebb at the white-haired stranger’s touch. The sword dropped, and Piers could not contain the moan that rose from the depth of his soul, certain now that he was lost.
    “You see?” the man went on calmly as he forced Piers down onto his knees. “These Austins and I have an understanding. I and my men will leave the Grey Friars in peace as long as they provide us with travelers for fodder.” His eyes were red, glowing like hot coals as he bent to his work.
    Gouts of blood steamed in the cool night air, but they vanished quickly as the followers of the pale-haired creature converged on Piers in a delirium of slaughter, as relentless as wolves, as terrible as tigers.

What Sir Gui commanded deSteny to do

    HUGH DESTENY regarded Sir Gui deGisbourne with angry disbelief. “But it would be unwise to leave at this time,” he protested. Ever since Sir Gui’s arrival in Nottingham at mid-morning, they had been closeted together, their tempers fraying as the sun rose high overhead, as if the fire of the noon-day sun heated their humors to dangerous levels.
    “Well, I can’t have my affianced bride brought here by a company of rough soldiers for her escort. Her father would be displeased. It would not be fitting,” said Sir Gui, making an impatient gesture with his pomander. “She would be offended.”
    “Better off offended than hurt, and if her father cannot bring her himself, he would surely be more pleased to have his men with her than yours,” said deSteny, his eyes hardening. “It is not as if there is nothing for this garrison to do. We have duties enough for another company of men. You have not forgot the outlaws in the woods who prey on travelers. We have a responsibility to provide anyone abroad in this shire with a modicum of protection. With Wroughton away, I cannot spare more men for such duty as escorting your bride. It would place Nottingham at risk to have the garrison depleted. Perhaps when Wroughton returns ...” He let this trail off, hoping it would be enough to convince Sir Gui that he was not being capricious.
    “Oh, yes—that errand to Windsor,” said Sir Gui in a tone of ill-use. “You sent him off with six men without so much as a word to me.”
    “Time was my first concern,” said the Sheriff. “It would have meant a two-day delay for them, and that might have been too much.”
    “And because of this ... mission, you have insufficient men available to bring my bride to me? What a paltry thing you must think me.” He scowled. “Am I nothing more than a landless knight, that I have no men to do my bidding? Must I depend upon her father—who is old and ill—to spare his men for this task, which should be mine, as if I were only a country yeoman?” Sir Gui pulled at his short-trimmed beard. “Her father will not like it.”
    “Very likely not,” said deSteny, recovering himself somewhat. “No one wants to send men into Sherwood now that there are so many tales of marauding outlaws.” He paused. “All the more reason to ask her father to use his veterans for the work instead of Nottingham’s men-at-arms.” He knew he would not prevail in this dispute, but he was hoping to gain a little time so he would not have to unman the garrison