Guy of Gisburne glared down at the four people in the cellar sternly. Robin waited for the knight to summon his servants or fly down to attack them, but Gisburne just stood there...swaying. “Gisburne?” Gisburne’s lips twitched and he suddenly burst out laughing. The outlaw sighed.
“You’re drunk...again,” stated Robin. “And don’t tell me you only had a few drinks to celebrate.”
“No, but I will now,” said Gisburne, once he had managed to regain some of his composure.
“By Saint Thomas!” cried the Earl. “You buried your sister today! Where’s your respect, man?”
“Respect?” spat Gisburne. “How can I respect a woman who didn’t exist?”
“What?” The Earl glanced at Robin for an explanation, but Robin was still studying his enemy carefully.
“But she was real. That’s the trouble, isn’t it? You began to believe in her.”
“Robin, what are you talking about?” asked Marion, laying a hand on his arm in concern. He didn’t seem to hear her.
“I don’t have a sister,” spoke Gisburne quietly but firmly. “I never have.”
“I know your sister did some things you didn’t approve of,” began the Earl, “but that’s hardly any reason to - ” Robin raised a hand and his father desisted.
“Some men drink to forget things,” said Robin.
“Do they?” replied Gisburne.
“You’re drinking to forget about Margaret.”
“No he isn’t.” Robin turned to the lady who had guided them to the cellar in surprise. Gisburne raised an eyebrow and smiled smugly as if issuing a silent challenge. He pretended to yawn, then leaned against the door frame.
“He’s drinking to forget the memories he has of this place. Every room is filled with sadness. He wishes he hadn’t returned, so he’s been trying to escape by drowning the pain. It isn’t working, is it?” Robin looked quickly at Gisburne. The smile had faded and some of the colour seemed to have drained from his cheeks.
“How did you know that?” asked Marion, who was also studying Gisburne.
“Oh, the servants gossip and I’ve heard stories...And everyone seemed shocked to see him again. Not just surprised but shocked, as if they thought he would never come back here again.” Gisburne shifted uncomfortably, then stood very straight. He was no longer feigning boredom. She had his complete attention now.
“Margaret told me that she was raised in a convent and not here: an admission that left me with an unfavourable impression of the place,” continued the lady. “I’m glad she never met her father. He sounds as if he was an extremely cruel man.” The lady’s eyes were fixed on the ground, but she lifted them briefly to cast a sympathetic glance at the knight. “I’m sorry, Sir Guy.”
Gisburne stared at her as if he couldn’t quite understand what she had said. One hand was clutching the door frame. His knuckles were white.
“Who are you?” he gasped hoarsely.
“Margaret was my friend.”
“Who are you?” he shouted. The lady lifted her chin and, placing her hands on her hips, regarded the knight with an air of authority despite the coarse wool of her grey gown, her dry, red hands and the frayed edges of her wimple. The eyes that had seemed to hold compassion before were now dark and inscrutable.
“I can’t tell you,” she answered.
“You ‘can’t’ tell me or won’t tell me?” demanded Gisburne. The lady opened her mouth, but Robin leapt into the conversation instead.
“She knows about the men who killed Margaret. She could help us find them.”
“Us?” asked Gisburne incredulously.
“I want them as much as you do.”
“Is that why you’ve come here, then?”
“Yes.” Gisburne shook his head in disbelief and turned towards the door.
“You should have left the storytelling to the woman, Wolfshead,” said Gisburne. “You’re fortunate to have her, you know? She can help you while away the time until the soldiers come to arrest you.” Gisburne’s hand reached for the door.
“Gisburne, wait!”
“What?” snarled the knight, wheeling around clumsily.
“They’re heading here. They could be here already. If you lock us in here, we can’t help you fight them.”
“What makes you think I need your help?”
“You’re drunk, Gisburne. You can barely walk without tripping over your own feet!”
“Oh, can’t I?” spat the knight. “Watch me.”
“Gisburne - !” The door slammed shut. Robin ran up the stairs, but they all heard a definite click as Gisburne turned the key in the lock. Robin pounded on the door, but it was to no avail. Gisburne had no intention of letting them out. The outlaw kicked the door in frustration, then headed back down the stairs.
“Well, this is certainly a fine mess,” commented the Earl.
“Yes it is, isn’t it?” yelled his son.
“If you hadn’t goaded Gisburne on - ” began the Earl.
“Me?” cried Robin. “No, I believe your friend had a lot more to say to him than I did!” He threw a sharp glance at the lady in question then froze. The blood had drained from her face and her whole body was shaking.
Marion rushed to her side and placed an arm around her shaking shoulders, guiding her to the stairs. The lady slumped down on the bottom step.
“My dear, what is it?” asked the Earl in concern.
“My son...He’s out there. If those men find him - ” She placed her head in her hands and started to weep.
* * * *
Robin cursed himself for attacking a woman who obviously had more troubles than they did. And he had blamed her when she had the most to lose by being trapped in the cellar.
“We’re going to get out of here, my lady, and then I promise to protect your son,” said Robin gently. The lady lifted her head and gazed at the outlaw through red, teary eyes.
“But how can we possibly escape? He’s locked the door and I don’t see any windows.”
“I’ll think of something...Father, if we both placed our full weight against the door, perhaps we could knock it down.”
“Do you really think that will work, Robert?” asked the Earl, sounding doubtful.
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Huntington shrugged. He certainly didn’t have any better ideas. The lady rose to clear a path, and the two men started to head up the stairs.
“Uh, Robin,” spoke Marion.
“What?” She pointed to his belt with a smile. Robin looked down and blushed. Albion was hanging securely in it scabbard.
“And I said Gisburne was drunk,” muttered the outlaw sheepishly.
“He was,” replied Marion. “If he had been thinking clearly, he would have tried to take Albion from you.”
“Well, it’s a lot to expect from a man who never thinks at all,” quipped Robin.
“Stay here, Father. I’m going to see what Albion can do before I ask you to bruise your shoulder.”
“I would appreciate that,” said the Earl, who didn’t like the look of the solid wooden door. Robin pulled Albion from its scabbard and advanced up the stairs.
“But that could take hours,” spoke the lady dismally.
“Then I’d better get started,” answered Robin. He swung his sword and tried to hide his disappointment when the blade barely made a mark on the door.
“Where did you last see your son?” asked the Earl, hoping to keep the lady distracted while his son hammered fruitlessly at the door.
“He’s in the village. I took him there this morning.” Robin turned around in surprise, his task momentarily forgotten.
“Then he’s safe.”
“Safe?” The lady laughed bitterly. “That boy hasn’t been safe since his father died.”
“But they won’t think to look in the village, will they?” asked Marion.
“Oh, they’ll search it. They’ll search everywhere until they find him.”
“Why?” demanded Robin. “Who’s behind this?”
“Haven’t you guessed, Robert?” said his father. Robin placed Albion back in its scabbard and walked down the stairs. “Some men will do anything to obtain wealth and power, even kill a little boy.”
“My husband was a very rich and powerful man, you see,” explained the lady quietly, “but he had one weakness: his brother.”
“His brother?”
“He made the mistake of trusting him. He died thinking his brother would protect our son and serve his best interests. He couldn’t have been more wrong.”
“Then his brother is the man who’s been chasing your son?” asked Robin in astonishment.
“A brother can be capable of anything. You should know that as well as anyone,” stated Huntington. Robin whipped around.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, Edgar, of course. Who do you think I meant?”
“No one, Father,” replied Robin quickly. “How could I forget Uncle Edgar? He betrayed us both.”
“Then you can understand why I’m so frightened,” spoke the lady, “and why it’s so important for me to find my son. He’s already killed Margaret. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
“How was Margaret involved? I see now that she must have hidden you both here.”
“She did more than that. She made sure that they would follow her and leave my son alone.”
“She must have gone to Nottingham when they got too close. She planned to ask Gisburne for help and lost the courage,” said Marion.
“Then he really doesn’t know anything?” asked the lady in surprise.
“He knows that men were hunting his sister and that they thought she was enough of a threat to kill her,” answered Robin.
“He saw the men chasing Margaret?”
“He was there when she was wounded.” The lady winced.
“It looks like he killed the man who...who did it.”
“What can you tell me about the man he killed? I need to know.”
“He had fine clothes.”
“A cloak with ermine trim,” added Marion, suddenly remembering her dream. The lady’s eyes widened.
“But that’s him...My husband’s brother!”
“What?” exclaimed Robin.
“Then you’re safe,” said Marion. “If he’s dead, there’s no one to hunt you or your son.” But the lady was shaking her head.
“There’s his son. He craves money and power almost as much as his father did. And now that his father is dead, there will be one less obstacle...”
“By Saint Thomas,” groaned the Earl. Robin turned around and headed back up the stairs again to attempt to drive down the door.
After almost an hour had passed, an exhausted outlaw was prepared to admit defeat. It was a surprisingly solid door and, even with Albion, Robin had failed to force it down. He made one more half-hearted thrust, then pulled his sword away. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs when he heard the shuffle of feet outside the door.
“Gisburne?” called Robin. “Who are you?” demanded the voice. It was Daniel.
“Daniel, please let us out,” spoke the lady. “I need to find my son.”
“Matilda? Is that you?” The Earl glanced at the lady in astonishment and mouthed the name back to her. She smiled and shrugged before addressing Daniel again.
“Yes, it’s me. Please let me out.”
“How did you end up down there in the first place? And who’s down there with you?”
“I...I was fetching more wine for Sir Guy and the door must have shut behind me.”
“And your friends?”
“They...uh...came down with me to...uh...keep me company.”
“What did you say to make him angry?”
“What?”
“The door only locks when someone has turned the key. My lord of Gisburne has the only key so he must have locked you in there, Matilda.”
“He was drunk,” said Robin. “He didn’t know what he was doing.” There was a quiet, almost sardonic chuckle outside the door.
“Oh, I’m sure he knew exactly what he was doing.”
“Daniel, you have to let us out!” pleaded the lady. “There are some men...They...they want to kill my son!” There was silence for a moment.
“Why would anyone wish to harm the boy?” asked Daniel at last.
“For the same reason they killed Margaret,” spoke Robin.
“How...how do you know about Lady Margaret? Who are you?”
“We were her friends,” stated Marion.
“But...but if you were her friends why did Sir Guy lock you in the cellar?”
“We need to get out of here, Daniel,” said Robin, ignoring the question.
“But Sir Guy has the only key!”
“Then you must fetch it from him.”
“Why should I do that? He locked you in here. He must have had a reason. I’ll speak to him. See what he says.”
“No! Wait!” protested Robin, but he could already hear the sound of footfalls as Daniel walked away.
“Damn him,” cursed the Earl.
“Daniel’s very loyal. You can’t expect him to disobey Sir Guy,” argued Matilda, trying to keep her voice level.
“I was referring to Gisburne, actually!” answered Huntington.
“Ah...” Marion laid a hand on Matilda’s shoulder.
“We’ll find a way to escape, my lady. I know we will.” Matilda forced a smile.
“Yes,” she said, “but will it be in time?”
Robin had begun to attack the door with renewed vigour when a shout from outside stopped him in mid-swing.
“Stop hammering at the door! You’ll break it!” yelled Daniel.
“That was the idea!” said Robin.
“Look, I’ve got the key. If I have Matilda’s word that you won’t harm an old blind man, I’ll open the door.” Matilda leapt to her feet, hope dancing in her eyes.
“You have it,” she called. “I promise.” There was a brief pause, then a click of the key as it was inserted in the lock. The four prisoners hurried up the stairs and were there to meet Daniel when he pushed open the door.
“Gisburne agreed to set us free?” asked Robin, who was grateful for their liberation, but had to question the generosity of their host.
“He...he doesn’t know,” admitted Daniel.
“You stole the key?” said Matilda in surprise.
“Well, he was...indisposed.”
“Yes, we know that!” replied Robin.
“He had...He had passed out in the solar. I almost tripped over him. I took the liberty of...uh...” Matilda kissed Daniel’s cheek, then quickly strode past him into the kitchens.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Robin, grasping her arm before she had a chance to disappear. She glanced at him sharply then nodded once, relenting.
“We’ll return as quickly as we can,” Robin told Marion. “Be careful.”
“You too.” He turned to say something to Matilda, but the lady had already left.
“Uh...goodbye!” called Robin, sprinting after her.
“Who is he?” questioned Daniel. “For that matter, who are you?” Although both Marion and the Earl knew that Daniel was blind, his gaze still seemed penetrating. Marion took Daniel’s hand gently.
“My name is Marion. And this is...”
“I’m David of Huntington,” spoke the Earl, shaking Daniel’s other hand.
“What is your business here?” asked Daniel, sounding a little less gruff.
“We were Margaret’s friends,” explained Marion.
“Were you? Well, there isn’t much you can do for her now, is there?” He turned, walked away, then stopped. “You seem like...good people. If you’re wise, you’ll leave before Sir Guy wakes up. You may have been his sister’s friends, but he seems to think you’re his enemies.”
“Where are you going?” asked Huntington when Daniel started to walk away again.
“He’ll be in a foul enough temper in the morning without waking up on a hard, cold floor.”
“But you can’t carry him by yourself, surely?”
“I once carried his father halfway across Jeruselem.”
“Well, we’re not in the Holy Land now, Daniel. Let me help you.” Daniel’s eyes fell on both strangers again in that oddly probing manner.
“As you wish, my lord,” he conceded reluctantly. He led them out of the kitchens and soon they were walking down a corridor towards the solar.
The Earl was hardly relishing the thought of carrying his son’s enemy to bed, but he knew it would have been unforgivable to allow Daniel to carry the knight himself. Of course, if he could have his own way, he would leave Gisburne just where he was. Perhaps waking up cold and sore would teach that young man a lesson.
“Oh! Forgive me!” He had been so lost in thought that he stepped into the solar without seeing Marion, who had halted abruptly.
“What is it?” asked Daniel, who had heard the woman’s footfalls cease.
“Oh, God,” gasped Huntington, looking over Marion’s shoulder.
Gisburne was face down on the floor, one hand resting by his head, the other clutching his belly. He was lying in a pool of blood.
“What’s happening?” demanded Daniel as Marion rushed to the knight’s side. She felt for a pulse along his neck.
“We need to staunch the blood,” she spoke.
“Blood! But he’s - he was - ” Daniel turned pale, almost as pale as the knight lying prone on the floor. Huntington took Daniel by the shoulders and directed him to a chair.
“You didn’t know,” said the Earl.
“But how...how could this have happened? I don’t...” Then Daniel’s face suddenly grew more grave. “He thought someone was chasing him, the same men who - ”
“My lord,” called Marion. “I need your help.”
The Earl left Daniel in the chair and approached Marion quickly. She was holding one hand against the wound, her eyes searching the room for an item that could be used for dressing. Huntington began to search as well. Both eyes rested on the tapestry above the fireplace. The Earl soon yanked it down and was handing it to Marion. She pressed the thick cloth against the wound firmly.
“Is he going to die?” spoke Huntington.
“I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood and...look at his face.” The knight’s left cheek was pressed against the floor, but the Earl could already see the bruises forming on the right side of his face. So they beat him, then stabbed him. And Gisburne had been too drunk to even attempt to defend himself. In fact, Daniel had assumed that he had passed out because he had been drunk, not wounded.
“I didn’t know he was bleeding,” said Daniel as if he could read the Earl’s thoughts. “I thought he had only...He had been drinking so much, you see...”
“You’re not to blame, Daniel,” replied Marion gently. “If we’re going to blame anyone we should blame the men who did this.”
“He could have bled to death if you hadn’t been here.” Daniel shuddered.
“Daniel,” Marion said more sharply. “You must stay calm. I need your help too.”
“But - but what can I do, my lady?” questioned the servant, rising from his chair nevertheless.”
“Well, you can help me carry your master to his bed,” answered Huntington.
“Gently,” said Marion as the Earl took Gisburne by the shoulders and rolled him onto his back. As the knight’s head lolled back, the Earl noticed the cut lip and the swelling around his right eye. Had they been questioning Gisburne about the boy?
His own questions would have to wait decided the Earl as he hooked his hands under Gisburne’s arms and Daniel grabbed his legs.
* * * *
Robin and Matilda stood at the edge of the woods, gazing into the village.
“It’s so quiet,” said the lady. “Praise be to God. My son must be safe.” Robin scrutinized the huts, suspending his judgment. Everything was quiet, yes. Too quiet perhaps.
“Where is everybody?” asked Robin, realizing that there wasn’t a villager in sight. Matilda opened her mouth to answer, then clasped a hand against it instead. Her confidence in her son’s well-being had suddenly been extinguished again.
“Wait here,” spoke Robin. He drew Albion from its scabbard and crept silently towards the huts. The only visible movement was the wind stroking the grass. Then Robin heard a faint cry coming from one of the huts. He decided to head there first.
When Robin reached the hut, he pressed his ear against earthen wall. He heard the murmur of voices, but he was unable to tell whether he was listening to the hut’s inhabitants. He would obviously need his eyes as well as his ears.
Robin pierced a tiny hole into the wall and looked inside. He saw what appeared to be a family huddled in a corner. A tall but stout man was standing before them wielding a sword. The outlaw was about to pull an arrow from his quiver when he realized that a scream from this man would alert his comrades, and possibly expose this family to even more danger. No, stealth was what was required here.
Soon the hole had grown bigger and, as Robin squeezed through, he was reminded of another occasion when he had broken through the wall of a hut. He had managed to free Tuck, John, Will and Nasir from Gisburne and the Sheriff. They had all escaped unharmed. Robin hoped this rescue attempt would be as successful. However, he had not considered how the prisoners might react when they saw him. One of the children gasped, and their captor wheeled around before Robin had the chance to rise from the ground.
The man’s sword swung down, but Robin raised Albion to block the blow. He rolled away and quickly leapt to his feet. The sword came at him again, but this time Robin managed to wrench his opponent’s weapon from his hand. Then Robin punched him squarely in the face. His enemy’s knees buckled and he fell forward.
“Help me tie him up,” Robin instructed the father. The man obeyed the stranger at once and managed to create rope out of some cloth his wife had been using to mend the children’s clothes.
“Thank you,” said the father as Robin placed a gag in their enemy’s mouth. “I don’t know who you are or even why you chose to help us, but we’re grateful all the same, friend.”
“What did he want with you?” asked Robin, trying not to sound too interested.
“He…They - there was a whole group of them – came to the village looking for some boy. He’s from the manor it would seem.”
“And did they find him?”
“No, Walter would never let that happen. He’s hidden the boy somewhere safe.”
“Walter?”
“The blacksmith,” explained the wife, with a toss of her dark curls. Then, she suddenly seemed afraid that she had said too much.
“It’s all right,” said Robin. “I want to help the boy. Those men…They killed a friend of mine. She died trying to protect him. If I help him she will not have died in vain.” The mother wrapped her arms around her children protectively, and her husband grabbed a staff from the corner of the hut.
“I’ll take you to Walter,” spoke the father. Robin nodded and followed his new ally out the door.
“My name is Tom,” stated the father once they were outside.
“I’m Rob-Robert,”said Robin, who had decided that the name “Robin” might stir up too many questions. He also couldn’t be certain where this village’s loyalty lay.
“The blacksmith is on the other side of the village, but we should reach it quickly,” explained Tom as they walked.
“The sooner I find the boy, the better.” Robin quickened his pace unconsciously, and Tom was forced to jog in order to keep up with the outlaw.
“There. That’s it over there,” panted Tom a short time later. Robin looked where Tom indicated and saw more than just the blacksmith’s workshop. They had appeared just in time to see the boy being carried off.
The child struggled furiously as a man threw him across his horse’s saddle. Yet the boy’s hands and feet were bound, and his captor had already mounted the horse.
Robin quickly notched an arrow and, without giving the matter a second thought, pulled the string back and fired. The man fell with a shriek. The horse moved forward a few feet in fright, but then stood still again. However, the other men had heard their companion’s cry and were running out of the workshop.
Robin drew Albion from its scabbard again as one of the men immediately attacked him. He parried the blow and managed to disarm the man. His opponent lashed out desperately, with both fists flying, and Robin ran him through.
The outlaw glanced over at Tom to see if he needed help. One man was laying by the villager’s feet and the other man was fleeing from the village as quickly as he could. Tom seemed safe enough.
“Is he dead?” Robin asked as they both studied the man on the ground.
“No, but he’ll be asleep for a long time, I reckon.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Tom. Will you watch him while I see to the boy? I’d like to ask our friend a few questions when he wakes up.” Tom nodded and poised his staff above the unconscious man’s head as if he feared that the man might suddenly leap up and attack. Then the dead man’s horse whinnied and Robin was reminded again of the boy.
He quickly lifted the child from the saddle and untied his ropes. The boy looked at Robin with wide brown eyes, his freckled face pale. He was frightened but he made no attempt to struggle when Robin placed his hands on his shoulders.
“Where’s Walter?” asked the boy.
“I don’t know,” answered Robin honestly.
“I’m here,” said a voice. A man walked out of the workshop clutching his head.
“Walter!” cried Tom. “Are you all right?” The villager studied the blacksmith in concern. There was a deep cut on his forehead.
“Forget me. You should be worrying about the boy.” The blacksmith approached Robin and the boy slowly. “I’m sorry. I promised I would protect you and – ”
“Bend over,” said the boy. The blacksmith stared at him in confusion then complied. The boy examined the cut. “He needs a physician.”
“He won’t find no physician round here,” replied Tom with a laugh.
“I’m fine,” argued the blacksmith, trying not to sway. Robin grabbed his arm and guided him to a chair in the workshop. There he bandaged the man’s head, while the boy watched and Tom stood outside guarding the prisoner.
“You’re a good lad,” said the blacksmith. “If you hadn’t come along…Well, I don’t know what would have happened.”
“I’m going to find those men,” stated Robin.
“How do you reckon you’re going to do that?”
“I’ll question the man outside when he wakes.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Then I’ll just have to find another way, won’t I?” The blacksmith gazed at Robin for a few moments as if weighing a question in his mind.
“How much do you know about all this?” Robin looked at the boy, who was eagerly examining all the tools around the forge, then proceeded to explain the situation to the blacksmith in a whisper. When Robin had finished his tale, Walter gave a low whistle.
“I knew the boy was in trouble, but I never imagined – ”
“I need to return him to his mother and then take them both somewhere safe.”
“Is there such a place?” spoke Walter, tousling the boy’s hair as his young charge returned to his side.
“I hope so,” said Robin.
It didn’t look good. His bruised and battered face was pale, so pale that his fair hair almost seemed dark against his skin. His breathing was shallow and he still showed no signs of waking.
A servant named Cecily, the woman she and Robin had seen at the well, had arrived shortly after they had carried Gisburne to bed. She had taken one look at the knight, crossed herself, then disappeared. Marion had assumed that she wouldn’t be seeing that woman again any time soon, so she was surprised when Cecily returned with a basin of water, some fresh bandages and a collection of herbs. Cecily suggested that they stitch the wound, hardly waiting for Marion’s approval before engaging in the task.
Marion turned her attention to Gisburne’s assortment of bruises and cuts. She had been about to apply some crushed tansy to the bruise on Gisburne’s right cheek when the servant’s hand fell on her wrist.
“Not that. He came out in a rash the last time.” Then, as Marion pondered the meaning behind the phrase “the last time,” Cecily passed her some crushed sorrel leaves instead.
After the women had tended to the cuts and bruises and stitched the wound, Marion volunteered to sit with the knight. Although Cecily had several chores left to finish, she still seemed reluctant to leave the patient. However, Marion promised to fetch her if the knight’s condition changed. Cecily reluctantly agreed to leave the knight in Marion’s care. As Cecily left the room, Marion wondered what would have happened if Cecily had known that the patient and his nurse were enemies.
They were enemies and yet she was sitting here waiting to see if he would live, not die. When had that happened? Why did it suddenly seem to matter? She hated him. He stood for everything she opposed. However, the alternative had been unthinkable. She couldn’t have left a man, even an enemy, to bleed to death on a cold, stone floor. And so she watched his chest rise and fall as he continued to draw breath and waited to see if his eyes would ever open again.
Marion sat there for a long time, so lost in thought that she didn’t realize Robin was in the room until he was standing across from her, on the other side of the bed.
His eyes were on Gisburne, and Marion saw an expression cross his face that she couldn’t recognize. Was it anger? Shock? Grief…?
“What happened?” asked Robin quietly. His face was now a mask. He had managed to conceal his emotions, though his eyes were still fixed on the knight.
“We found him in the solar. It must have happened when we were locked in the cellar.”
“But Daniel - ”
“Daniel didn’t know he was wounded. When he found Gisburne on the floor, he thought he had only passed out.”
“Oh.” Robin walked around the bed and stood beside Marion. “Is he going to die?”
Marion glanced down at the pale immobile face and sighed.
“I don’t know, Robin.”
He was climbing a hill. It wasn’t particularly steep or tall, yet he felt as if he had been scaling it for hours. It was as if some force was holding him back and pulling him fiercely at the same time.
He turned to see what was at the top of the hill, but it was shrouded in mist. He tried to turn around, but he couldn’t move his legs. Perhaps it was just as well; the mist had covered everything now.
“You are lost. I will guide you,” said a voice. It was familiar somehow, but he just couldn’t place it.
“I can’t see. Where are you?”
“I’m right in front of you, Guy. Take my hand.” Guy reached out and was quickly pulled forward.
Guy opened his eyes. He couldn’t remember closing them, but he must have done. Had the mist cleared? It had yielded, certainly, but a thin blanket still rested at the bottom of the hill.
Guy looked around and suddenly realized that, like the voice, this place somehow seemed familiar. It was only when he observed the crag that it hit him. He was at the tor.
He turned around slowly and came face to face with Robin of Loxley.
