Tuck watched the two men in wonder. Neither father nor son had kept still since they had returned. While the others had sunk dejectedly before the fire, Robin and his father had paced restlessly around the camp. It was as if both men were driven by some emotion they couldn’t express, let alone understand. Did Margaret’s death weigh on them so heavily, or was there more to it than that?
Robin suddenly stopped in front of the monk as if he could sense his thoughts.
“I’m going after him.” The outlaws stared at their leader in surprise, while the Earl swivelled on his heel and marched briskly towards his son.
“The man just lost his sister, Robert. Leave it be.” Robin shook his head impatiently.
“The men who killed Margaret know who Gisburne is. They’ll go after him next.”
“So?” demanded Will.
“If they kill Gisburne, Margaret won’t receive a proper burial,” answered Tuck gravely.
“You don’t even know where he’s heading,” spoke John, poking the fire with his staff.
“Home.”
“Where’s that?”
“Margaret was heading for Hereford when we met her on the road,” said Tuck.
“The manor,” stated the Earl. What had been surprise before was now astonishment. The outlaws were struck speechless.
“You’ve been there?” asked Robin at last. The Earl nearly smiled.
“No.”
“But you know where it is.”
“Yes.” Robin waited expectantly.
“I don’t need to tell you because I’m going with you.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”
“These men are dangerous.”
“I have a sword.”
“And how many years has it been since you wielded it? Ten? Twenty?” The Earl flushed and Tuck tugged at Robin’s sleeve.
“Let him go,” he whispered, pulling his friend to the other side of the camp.
“Tuck, you know I can’t do that. You saw what happened to Margaret. What if they kill him too?” Tuck laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder.
“He’ll go whether you allow him to or not. He’s too much like his son to give up once his mind is set on something.”
“Why couldn’t he be more like his other son and just not care...about anything?” growled Robin softly. The outlaw had made this last comment partly in jest, but Tuck still seized it as a means of supporting his argument.
“Let him perform this one service for his other son. It may be the only chance he’ll ever have.” Robin looked at him sharply and Tuck realized that he had overstepped another boundary. He quickly switched tactics.
“Robin, wouldn’t it be wiser to have your father with you than for him to travel alone and unprotected?” Robin sighed, his defences weakening. He stood for a moment in silence, trying to make the right decision.
“Robert.” The Earl, who had never been the most patient man, had acted against John’s advice and decided to interrupt the hushed conversation. Tuck instantly moved away and Robin was left to face his father alone. He waited calmly, expecting an angry rebuke or a stern lecture.
“I need to go. I can’t explain it. I don’t know if I understand myself.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know. That’s why I’m going to do everything you tell me.”
“What?” The Earl laughed when he saw the perplexed look in his son’s eyes.
“You know these men and you’ve proven that you know how to fight. I would be a very foolish man indeed if I didn’t heed your commands.” Robin almost pinched himself. It had to be a dream.
“I mean it, Robert,” spoke the Earl, as if he could interpret Robin’s thoughts. This was obviously important to his father. He had cast aside his pride and submitted almost humbly to his son’s authority. Robin knew he should feel honoured, but his father’s behaviour only caused concern. He retraced his steps and headed back to his friends in gloomy silence.
“He’s talked you into it, hasn’t he?” asked John. The outlaw only needed to take one glance at his leader’s face to know the answer. “When are you leaving?”
“First light.” Will shook his head.
“And what do you think Gisburne’s going to do when you get there? Greet you with open arms?”
“He’s not going to see me. He won’t even know I’m there.”
“And you’ll leave once Mar--she’s buried, won’t you?” said John firmly.
“Yes.”
“You’re lying. You’re going after those men.”
“Someone has to.”
“Then let us come with you, Robin.”
“No!” The voice was sharp, the answer too quick. Will’s eyes narrowed.
“Why not?”
“I...I need you here.”
“Hogwash.”
“There are the villages to think of,” argued Robin.
“We’ve left them before and they’ve survived. Besides, how much harm can they come to with Gisburne gone?” Robin closed his eyes wearily.
“At least let one of us go with you,” said John. Robin opened his eyes.
“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll decide in the morning.”
Marion trudged through the forest, stepping over dozens of tangled roots, her hands defending her face from the stinging blows of branches. She had been following the woman for hours, but she just couldn’t catch up. She would be close enough to touch the woman’s shoulder when the woman would mysteriously disappear. Then, when Marion though she couldn’t take another step, the woman stopped.
Golden hair flowed down her back. She wore a white gown and a velvet ermine-trimmed cloak was wrapped around her like a shroud.
“Margaret?”
“You knew I was dead as soon as you saw me.”
The cloak slipped off her shoulders and the gown was no longer white but red...
Marion woke with a start, glancing quickly around the camp as if expecting Margaret to be there. However, the only pair of eyes she met belonged to Robin.
“Bad dream?” he asked.
“Margaret,” confessed Marion, resting her head on his shoulder. “Is that why you can’t sleep?”
“No,” said Robin, lowering his eyes. “Not Margaret.” Marion tried to read his expression, but he had placed himself behind that wall again. He had cast it up before and each time it seemed to grow higher. What secret was he guarding...?
“I’m coming with you,” she blurted out suddenly.
“Why?”
“I...I’d be doing it for Margaret.” Robin looked up, studying her closely.
“Would you?” Marion opened her mouth to defend herself, but the truth tumbled out instead.
“I failed her,” she answered quietly.
“Failed her? What do you mean you failed her? Of course you didn’t fail her!”
“I let her die.”
“No, not even Gisburne believes that.”
“Then perhaps he should.”
“Marion--”
“I could have helped her. I could have tried to understand.”
“This isn’t about her wound, is it?” Robin wrapped his arms around Marion and, for a time, they were silent. Then Marion pulled away and Robin cupped her chin in one hand.
“My father won’t like it.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Not necessarily.” Marion stared at him and Robin grinned. “I defied him once before because of you, remember?” Marion blushed, then squeezed his hand.
“He’ll be very angry.”
“Probably.”
“Don’t you mind?”
“No, I think that will be the least of our troubles.”
* * * *
The Earl had been furious. It had been bad enough when Robin had agreed to allow one of his rabble to accompany them, but why in heaven’s name had he picked Marion? He just couldn’t understand at first. However, as the journey progressed, his anger subsided. He was forced to concede that he might have been mistaken. Indeed, he began to believe that Marion had been the best possible choice.
When he and Robert had quarrelled, she had gently intervened. When his head began to nod with exhaustion, she had insisted, in a firmer tone, that they rest. She had even killed a rabbit on the first night for supper. Although the Earl hardly approved of Marion’s behaviour, he had to admit that she had proven her worth. He wondered if Margaret had possessed similiar skills.
“Do you think Margaret would have made a good outlaw?” asked the Earl on the third day of their journey. Robin almost drew in the reins of his horse.
“I-I don’t know. Maybe in time...”
“And maybe if she hadn’t been your enemy’s sister,” suggested Huntington dryly.
“Well, it would have helped,” admitted Robin.
“I wish we could have known her better,” said Marion suddenly.
“You were fond of her?” asked the Earl. Marion hesitated, unsure how to broach the question.
“No, I didn’t like her, my lord,” she answered quietly. “I didn’t trust her. It’s not easy to like someone you don’t trust.”
“Why didn’t you trust her?” His voice wasn’t sharp, just curious.
“I knew she was hiding something.”
“The truth about her brother.”
“Yes,” agreed Marion, “but there was something more.”
“The reason why those men were chasing her,” stated Robin. “The reason why she was killed.”
“You should have questioned Gisburne,” said the Earl.
“I did. He didn’t know any more than we did.”
“But he was her brother...Well, I suppose I don’t blame her for not choosing to confide in that brute.”
“That must have been some argument,” teased Robin invitingly, but his father was suddenly too preoccuppied to be baited. They had reached a sweeping valley with a hundred green hues. However, what immediately caught everyone’s attention was the long graceful river that glittered in the sun.
“It’s beautiful,” breathed Marion.
“It’s the Wye,” replied the Earl. “It won’t be long before we reach the manor.”
It resembled at least a dozen homes Robin had visited. There were the thick, stone walls of the tower, the gatehouse, the great hall and the chapel. There was the thick cluster of trees that formed the woods. They could even see the woolly, white backs of a flock of sheep grazing in the meadow. From a distance, it almost seemed idyllic.
“Is this it?” said Robin in disbelief. He glanced quickly at his father, who was staring at the manor. The hands at his sides had curled into fists. “Father?” The Earl realized that Robin was speaking to him and attempted to compose himself. Only his eyes betrayed him. Robin no longer needed an answer to his question.
“We’ll set up camp in the woods,” he spoke, “then I think I’ll pay a visit to the manor.”
They waited until nightfall before they crept towards the manor. Robin had wanted to explore the manor alone, for he feared that three were more likely to be discovered than one, but neither Marion nor his father were willing to stay behind.
Robin led them to the stables. Although he knew that Gisburne should have reached the manor before them, he still wanted to be sure that the knight had arrived. If Gisburne had met those men on his journey, they were wasting their time at the manor.
Robin eased the creaking doors open. The stables were immersed in darkness until Marion stepped inside with a makeshift torch. Robin and his father went to the stalls to search for Margaret’s grey horse.
“Do you see it?” asked Marion, trying to keep the flame close to the men without startling the animals. Robin studied the last two horses in the stables and shook his head.
“It isn’t here.”
“Could he have come and gone without us seeing him?” questioned the Earl.
“I don’t think so.” Robin headed to the door. “We’ve seen enough here. Let’s go.” His hand was on the door when he suddenly drew back.
“Quick, douse the torch! Someone’s coming!” he whispered. Marion extinguished the flame and the three scrambled up the ladder to the loft. A dark shape pushed through the doors and Robin saw it rush towards the ladder.
“Marion!” he gasped. She grabbed his arm and he pulled her up just before snapping jaws could snare her skirts. There was a deep, rumbling growl and then the creature started barking loudly. The door creaked open again and the three lay flat in the hay.
“Who’s there?” demanded a voice. Robin lifted his head slightly and another shape shifted into view. He watched a man move slowly around the stables, covering almost every section of the floor. Robin was surprised not to see him carrying a torch or a lantern. Then he understood why the man had no need for such objects: he was blind.
“What are you chasing now, boy? Rats? Come away. There’s nothing here,” spoke the man. Yet, the dog continued barking despite the command. The man’s hand fell on the dog’s collar and the barks subsided into growls.
“Roland,” warned the man. Suddenly the dog broke free and bolted out the door. They heard barking again and then silence. The door opened a third time and a pool of light jolted into the stables. The dog had brought another man back with him but, instead of snarling at him, the dog sat there contentedly, wagging his tail.
“So,” said the blind man, “you’ve finally returned, Master Guy.”
* * * *
“Daniel!”
“Robin wasn’t sure if the lantern’s light was deceiving him, for he thought he saw Gisburne smile, his expression betraying genuine affection. The smile faded rapidly, though, when the knight’s eyes met those of the other man. He turned quickly and hung up the lantern by the door.
“How...how did you know it was me?”
“Who else would Roland be happy to see but his master? You’re the only man he doesn’t bark at except me, and that’s only because I feed him!” Daniel reached down and patted the dog’s head fondly. Then he took a few steps forward and rested his hand on top of Gisburne’s head.
“Well, you haven’t grown any taller, at least, thank heaven.” The hand drifted down to Gisburne’s face, the fingers pausing briefly against one cheek as if they had discovered a new scar. The knight swallowed uncomfortably.
“When did you...How long have you...?”
“Ah, about a year ago. I knew it would happen someday. My eyes have never been strong. Old Roland’s my eyes now aren’t you, boy?” The dog was gazing up at both of them, his tail still thumping wildly. Apparently, the intruders had been forgotten.
“Where’s your horse?” asked Daniel.
“I left it drinking at the trough outside,” replied Gisburne, who left immediately to fetch the animal. He returned shortly with the grey horse they had been seeking earlier.
Daniel bent his head to one side, as if he was listening to every clop the hooves made. He reached out to touch the horse’s head, then gently cupped the horse’s muzzle in his hand. Soon both hands were running across the horse’s back. Daniel crouched down on his haunches to examine the legs. The horse neighed once but gave no other indication that she objected to this inspection.
Only when he was satisfied did Daniel finally rise. He walked to where he believed Gisburne was standing and stared unseeingly at the knight’s shoulder.
“This isn’t your horse,” he announced.
“But how do you know that?” exclaimed Gisburne.
“Master Guy, I thought I taught you better than that! There’s a scar along the right hind leg, against the fetlock.”
“Yes, but how do you know that--”
“I’ve seen -- come across -- this horse before,” said Daniel calmly. “It belongs to your sister, the Lady Margaret.” Gisburne stepped back. Robin suspected that the knight paled, but found it impossible to be sure in the dim stables.
“Margaret was here? Are you sure?”
“A woman with your mother’s face and your hair and eyes? Who else could it have been?” demanded Daniel, who had obviously been given a fairly accurate description. He led the horse to an empty stall and began to unbuckle the saddle. “She was hoping to find you. I’m glad she did. But where is she, my lord? Isn’t she with you?” The stables grew silent for an instant and Robin feared that the men might hear three people breathing above them.
“She’s dead,” said Gisburne.
“Dead?”
“The body’s in the chapel.”
“She was killed? Who did it?”
“We’ll bury her in the morning.”
“Why did you come here in the middle of the night?”
“It’s not the middle of the night.”
“Who are you hiding from?”
“No one!” snapped Gisburne.
“I may be blind, my lord, but I’ll always know when you’re lying.” Gisburne strode to the doors, stopped, hesitated, then walked back again.
“I thought that someone was following me. I rode to Brinsop, then Bishopstone before I headed here.”
“You thought that no one would be watching the manor after dark.”
“I hoped that no one would be watching the manor after dark.”
“You’d better see the sheriff tomorrow.”
“No!”
“My lord--”
“I’m tired,” said Gisburne. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“How long are you staying?” asked Daniel, before Gisburne reached the door.
“I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“Edmond’s gone. You know that.” Guy turned around sharply.
“Yes, I know that. Good night, Daniel.”
“Wait. I’ll come with you, my lord. I’m finished here and I think Roland has stopped chasing rats.”
“He still chases rats?”
“He chases anything that moves, my lord.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“He seems jumpy,” whispered the Earl once Gisburne, Daniel and Roland had left. Robin sat up, shaking bits of hay from his hair.
“He usually is.”
“Do you think someone was following him?” said Marion. Robin laughed lightly and started to climb down the ladder.
“Well, we were,” he answered, offering Marion a hand. “We should watch the manor tomorrow. Gisburne may be expecting more visitors.”
Robin suppressed a yawn. He had been watching the gatehouse for hours and all he had managed to see so far was a pedlar, who quickly left, and a priest, who stayed longer. Robin was surprised that the priest hadn’t been cast out of the manor as quickly as the pedlar until he remembered that Margaret was going to be buried that day.
He again wondered if Gisburne felt any remorse. He had travelled some distance to a place he apparently hated. Had he returned to the manor for her sake or his own?
“Robin.” The outlaw started, then cursed himself for allowing someone to sneak up on him, even if was only Marion. “Robin,” she repeated, “I can’t find your father.”
“What?”
“The last time I saw him he was watching the side gate, but when I returned just now he was gone.”
“But-but where would he go?”
“Back to the camp?”
“Yes, let’s hope so.”
It was almost dusk and Robin and Marion were very concerned.
“He must be somewhere,” said Marion, as they studied the side gate again.
“He wouldn’t have left here without us.”
“But we’ve looked everywhere.”
“No we haven’t.” He tossed a glance towards the manor and Marion followed his eyes reluctantly.
“If Gisburne sees us...”
“I know,” spoke Robin grimly.
“Maybe Gisburne’s gone to bed early,” suggested Marion hopefully. Robin laughed and pulled her to her feet.
“We’ll stay away from his chamber just in case.” They walked through the gate quickly, then pressed against the nearest building. Robin spotted a servant across the courtyard collecting water from the well. As they waited for her to complete her task, Robin cautiously peered at the buildings around him.
“How are we going to get inside?” whispered Marion. Robin’s eyes rested on the chimney of the next building and he smiled.
“We’ll go in through the kitchens.”
“The kitchens? Do you think your father’s there?”
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure Gisburne won’t be. Look, the servant’s leaving. Here’s our chance.” They ran past the household lodgings and to the door of the next building. Robin was about to lead them inside when Marion grabbed his arm.
“Robin, if that servant was at the well, she might be heading for the kitchens. What do we do if she sees us?”
“Say ‘hello’?” Marion tried to smack him, but he was already walking through the door. Marion sighed and hurried to catch up with him.
Robin had seen no smoke coming from the chimney, but he reasoned that the servants had to be preparing supper and that the kitchens would be bustling with activity. He hoped that the servants would be so occupied with their tasks that they wouldn’t notice two strangers sneaking past. He was about to be disappointed.
The kitchens were silent and the only person present was a woman, who sat with her hands folded neatly on a table.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.
Robin and Marion stared at the woman in astonishment. Marion’s first thought was that the servant at the well had seen them, but this woman appeared to be a different person altogether.
“What took you so long? Your father’s been concerned.”
“He’s been concerned? We’re not the ones who disappeared!” exclaimed Robin, before the full significance of her words hit him. “You know where my father is?”
“Yes, and so will everyone else in the manor if you don’t keep your voice down.”
“Where is everyone anyway? Shouldn’t they be preparing supper for their lord?”
“Sir Guy is...indisposed. At the moment, they’re just trying to stay out of his way.”
“Indisposed?” spoke Marion in surprise. “Is he ill?”
“No. He probably won’t feel ill until the morning.” The woman rose from the table. “Come, I’d better take you to your father.”
“Where is he?” asked Robin.
“In the cellar. I convinced him to stay hidden while I watched for you.”
“Who are you? You dress like a servant, but speak like a lady.”
“Well, it’s an odd household, isn’t it?” She made her way to the cellar door and Marion shot Robin a questioning look. He shrugged, then indicated that they’d better follow. He didn’t know what else to do.
“Your father said I should trust you,” stated the woman, stopping just outside the door. “I don’t know if I can.”
“What can I do to convince you, my lady?”
“I suppose there’s nothing you can do.” She smiled but her expression was sad. She opened the door and they started down the stairs and into the darkness of the cellar.
“Father, are you down here?” They were greeted by silence at first, then they heard the shuffle of boots.
“I’m here, Robert.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry. I realize that this wasn’t part of your plan, but when I saw her I had to find out what was going on.”
“Yes, we’ve met your friend. Who is she?”
“David, please,” pleaded the woman, who was suddenly at his side. “For the sake of my son, say nothing. Tell them what you wish, but don’t tell them my name.”
“Father, what’s going on?” demanded Robin.
“Yes, that’s what I’d like to know,” came a voice from the top of the stairs. Robin spun around and saw the lord of the manor standing in the doorway.
“My lord, I -- ” began the lady, but Gisburne’s attention was focused on Robin.
