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Robin's archers stood along the wooded bank above the road.

Only two were visible. There were nine altogether. Behind the convoy, a wagon rolled out from a narrow side track and overturned with an enormous crash.

Merry immediately began shouting about soldiers, outlaws, and several things that were entirely untrue.

The rear of the convoy was blocked.

Robin stepped into view above us.

"Hands away from your weapons!" she called. "Nobody needs to get hurt today."

Little John emerged from the ditch and disarmed two soldiers before either could finish drawing his sword.

Alana hurried toward the second cart and lowered its tailgate.

I walked to Sedding's horse and rested a hand against its neck.

"Give the order to stand down," I said quietly.

He looked down at me.

"I'll tell everyone you were overwhelmed by thirty archers. I'll even testify to it under oath if necessary."

His mouth tightened.

"There aren't thirty archers."

"Your men don't know that."

He glanced toward the trees. Neither of us spoke for several seconds. Then he raised his hand.

"Stand down."

His soldiers obeyed. Three men suffered bruises during the confusion, and the young soldier who'd identified me was knocked flat by Tuck.

Tuck promptly apologized to him at considerable length.

Nobody was killed.

Robin moved between the carts, cutting the prisoners' bindings.

Hild of Papplewick climbed down from the second cart without assistance.

When Robin asked whether she was hurt, the old woman informed her that she'd been perfectly comfortable and that the straw in the cart was better than her mattress at home.

I heard Robin laugh.

It was the first time she'd sounded genuinely relieved in days.

As we prepared to leave, Sedding called after me.

"Sheriff."

I turned.

"The order came to me under Lord Fitzwalter's seal," he said, loud enough for his men to hear. "Not the King's."

I held his gaze.