The pause between the three men seemed to span centuries. It was only when Robin's smile diminished and he spoke the outlaw's name that the silence was broken.
"Scarlet. Will Scarlet."
"You know me then, do you?" asked Will, with just the slightest tinge of pride and satisfaction in his voice.
"Aye, we know you," answered Tuck, more than a little coldly. Robin stared at Tuck, surprised to see him look almost as angry as he was afraid.
"Don't worry, brother," hissed Will. "I don't kill monks or priests but," he added, approaching Robin, "I have nothing against killing Norman swine."
"No!" cried Tuck. "He's the Earl of Huntingdon's son!"
"Is he?" growled Will. "Well, that's too bad, ain't it? Too bad for him, anyway." He moved a step closer, and Robin's sword flew out of its
scabbard to meet him."
"Nice sword," commented Will. "Do you need someone to teach you how to use it?"
Robin dismounted, facing Will at his own level.
"My lord, don't do it!" protested Tuck. "He's one of the most dangerous cutthroats in Sherwood!"
"Yeah," piped up Will, "and I've fought and killed better men than you."
"I don't want to fight, Will," said Robin. "I only wish to talk."
"Talk? About what? What is it with you? Are you afraid to fight or something?"
But Robin paid no attention to Will's attempt at an insult. "Aren't you a member of Robin of Loxley's band?" he asked casually, trying to discover as best he could what had happened to his friend.
"What? You mean Robin Hood?" Will started to laugh. "You must be joking!"
"Why?"
"Because he's a fool," said Will. "He and his men are absolutely useless. They can't fight. They couldn't even rob an old man if their life depended on it. Believe me, I've seen them try! Why do you want to know about him, anyway?"
"I need his help," stated Robin, causing Will to sputter with laughter again. "I need help from you both."
"My help?" drawled Will. "Now why should I want to help you?"
"Because I'm leaving you no choice," replied Robin calmly. He flew at Will, provoking an attack with his sword almost before the outlaw had time to defend himself. He then took another swipe, but Will blocked the blow effectively. Robin withdrew, waiting to see what kind of effect he had had on Will. It wasn't a good one.
"Who do you think you are waving your fancy sword at me?" shouted Will. "You don't know how to fight. You don't know nothing! You think this is a game, but I fight to survive. I've seen your kind hunting in the forest, destroying everything in their path. And the soldiers burning down villages, killing innocent people--"
"Then why don't you do something about it, Will?" demanded Robin. "Why do you rob the rich if you're only keeping the money for yourself? Why not join others and help the poor? Why do you fight alone?"
"My lord--" gasped Tuck, trying to issue another warning.
"How-how dare you?" said Will in a deadly rasp. "You know nothing about it! It was Norman bastards like you who ruined me! And you come here telling me...telling me that I should do something about it?"
"Yes," answered Robin, who still remained completely calm, "I do. So what are you going to do about it, Will?"
"I'm-I'm going to kill you! That's what I'm going to do!" thundered Will, lunging forward with his sword.
* * * *
"The circle is ready, my lady," said Lilith to her mistress. "Gulnar and I have prepared it."
"Then bring his body forward," instructed the Baroness to two cowering servants, who were terrified of the magical symbols and concentric circles painted on the floor. There were also the black candles surrounding the circle, marking each direction like the positions on a sundial, and the quiet mutterings and incantations being delivered by the witch and the sorcerer. But they were more terrified by what fate they might incur if they disobeyed their mistress' orders, so they brought Guy's body forward.
"Careful!" hissed Lilith, as one of the servants almost knocked over a candle. It was a wonder Guy's body made it to the ground without falling, the servants were shaking so much. However, Marion had some sympathy for their fears. She dismissed them quickly, her eyes following them as they left the crypt. Then they fell on Gulnar, who was hovering outside the circle, fingering what appeared to be a narrow piece of parchment in his bony hands. Marion looked closer, trying to decipher the runes written upon it. She blinked. Was it her imagination, or were the runes forged in blood...?
Gulnar turned to her and Marion could no longer see any sign of the unusual parchment. He observed her confused stare, but only smiled, moving closer to the circle of power again.
"Should I light the candles, Baroness?" asked Lilith, who suddenly stood before Marion, distracting her attention from Gulnar for a few seconds.
"Yes, Lilith. As soon as you are ready."
"I am ready now, my lady," answered the witch. With one last toss of her head towards the Baron's stone coffin, she lifted a torch from a bracket on the wall and walked over to the circle.
Gulnar, who had been leaning over the body with almost bulging eyes, quickly stood and moved to the outside of the circle, giving Lilith room to light the candles.
The Silver Arrow was lying on the ground. The witch lifted it carefully, grasping it firmly in both hands. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she saw nothing but the body as she concentrated deeply. Then, her lips parted. A whisper as soft as the wind escaped from them.
"I conjure thee by the Lords of Darkness, by the shield of Solomon and by the power of Herne's arrow. Venite! Venite!"
In the frozen stillness of the crypt, and the quiet rumblings of the ancient magical power, Lilith took the Silver Arrow and placed it in Guy's lifeless hands.
"Palas aron azinomas!" cried Lilith.
The hands twitched. Suddenly, Guy's eyes fluttered open. Lilith turned pale and stared at him, unable to move a muscle. Marion could only manage a faint and almost inaudible gasp. However, Gulnar stood and grinned, a quiet but menacing laugh escaping from him. The Silver Arrow slipped from Guy's hands, forgotten. Guy rose slowly to his feet. Then, to Marion's astonishment, he coughed and spit out the piece of parchment that Gulnar had made. Now how had that ended up there, thought Marion fretfully.
Guy seemed to wonder the same thing. His forehead crinkled as he studied the group with blank and confused eyes. Finally, he tore his eyes away and looked down at the dark patch of blood that had soaked through his tunic.
Guy leapt back violently, knocking over two of the candles. When he lifted his eyes again, Marion was shocked to see that he was shaking his head and that his whole body seemed to tremble. Words tried to leave his lips, but he couldn't seem to push them out of his mouth. Marion stepped forward, which only caused Guy to move further back.
"Marion?" Guy managed to utter.
"Yes," said Marion gently, laying a hand upon Guy's shoulder. If it had been a branding iron, Guy wouldn't have given so passionate a start. "My lord of Huntingdon, calm yourself. We won't harm you."
"My lord of Huntingdon? What...what are you talking about?"
"My lord?"
"What-what's going on?" Guy demanded. "Where am I? What is this place?"
"You're at Belleme Castle, my lord," explained Marion.
"What?" gasped Guy. "No, no, it can't be! We...I can't be here...Not here..."
"But this is Belleme Castle," said Marion, watching as Guy gazed wildly at his surroundings. What was wrong with him? He acted as if the place was full of ghosts. Then, Marion remembered that it was. Hadn't they just brought this man back from the dead?
"My lord, you're shaking!" exclaimed Marion. "What's the matter?"
Guy's eyes had stopped their frantic search of the crypt and had rested upon the bald bony man in front of him. "He's...You're...But you're supposed to be dead!" Guy cried.
"What?" said Marion, but Gulnar only stood where he was, smiling serenely.
"Am I?" asked Gulnar, possessing all of the innocence of a child. "Perhaps, my lord, you should take a closer look at yourself."
It slowly dawned on Guy that maybe the sorcerer's suggestion was wise. He stared down at his tunic again, his hands reaching gingerly upwards to feel his neck and the head it was attached to, almost as if fearing that he had lost it.
"Am I dead?" Guy dared to ask.
"No, my lord," said Marion sweetly. "We saved you."
"Saved me?" whispered Guy.
"We brought you back."
"Back?"
"From the dead..." drawled Gulnar dramatically.
"From where?" cried Guy. "What-what do you mean the dead?"
"It's true, my lord," said Marion, in such an earnest tone that Guy found it hard not to believe her, but he shook his head, unwilling to accept her story. He tried to move away from them, but found he was trapped, that he had backed himself up against a wall.
"Th-th-this isn't funny!" Guy stammered. "How did I really get here? What's going on?"
"We brought you here, Guy, and, then, together we brought you back from the dead." Marion took a step towards Guy, but he pushed her back roughly.
"Keep-keep away from me!" barked Guy. "You're all mad!"
"But my lord--"
"Why do you keep calling me that? You never call me that! What kind of devilry is this?"
"Devilry?" said Marion. "I'm afraid I don't understand, my lord." She hoped that Guy hadn't somehow discovered the truth about her plans. She didn't know what she would do if he found out about Azael and the Lords of Darkness before she had prepared him for it. Why, even now he was watching her, his eyes colder that she'd ever remembered seeing them before.
"Don't lie to me, Marion. He's a part of this, isn't he? That's why you're here."
"He?"
"That wolfshead!" said Guy. "He's behind this, isn't he?"
"Wolfshead? What wolfshead?" asked Marion indignantly.
"Why, Robin Hood of course! Who else would do this to me? Oh, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about! You know all about it...Lady Wolfshead!"
"Lady who?" gasped Marion. She turned furiously to Gulnar, whose laughter had reached its highest crescendo. "What have you done to him?" she shouted.
* * * *
Will's sword was wrenched from his hand for the third time. He growled in anger as Robin graciously took his own sword and pushed the weapon back to him. Robin had hoped that the fight might wear Will down enough for them to talk, but the fact that Will was losing this duel only seemed to infuriate him further.
Robin sidestepped quickly as Will took another leap towards him, trying to suppress a laugh as his opponent lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
"You're out of practice, Will," stated Robin, crouching down to Will's level to offer him a hand. Will only stared at it, grumbling some kind of curse. Then, after a moment or two of hesitation over whether he should take it or not, a smile spread slowly across Will's lips. Before Robin realized the true intent of that smile, Will had tightly gripped his hand and Robin had been thrown against the ground.
"You were saying?" taunted Will, as Robin fought to get his breath back. "You shouldn't have let up your guard," he continued, as Robin struggled furiously beneath him. Will lifted his sword, and Robin waited for the deadly stroke that was to come. However, both Robin and Will had forgotten about Tuck, who had slipped silently from his horse to pick up a log and...
Will fell forward with a groan, his sword barely missing Robin's left ear. Robin rolled Will's prone body away and sat up.
"Good timing," said Robin, accepting Tuck's assistance from the ground.
"Are you still going to try to convince him to help you?" asked Tuck.
Robin looked down at his fallen friend and current adversary, wishing he could have influenced him to change his mind. Will was a valuable companion and ally, and Robin badly needed both. But he couldn't afford to get himself half-killed in the process. No, unfortunately, Will was a lost cause.
Robin motioned to Tuck. They moved Will's body off the road and into some bushes before riding on.
* * * *
Guy of Gisburne watched his enemies argue heatedly, dazed and confused about what was going on. There were so many questions filling his head, but none of these questions were being answered because he was being ignored. He hated that.
Why had they brought him here? Was he their prisoner? Who was behind all of this? Gulnar or that wolfshead? Was this another mad plan involving that wolf demon, Fenris, or a plot of revenge hatched by Robin Hood and the outlaws? If it was the latter then why was only Marion here and not the others? And what could they possibly gain by capturing him? For that matter, how had they captured him? The last thing he could remember was placing his head down on the execution block.
Despite the jumbled array of images he last remembered in a mind edged with fear, he could swear that he had heard Brewer give the order to kill him. He even thought that he could remember the icy chill of the executioner's axe as it swung down. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled at the memory of it.
"I demand to know what's going on here?" he stated furiously, interrupting his enemies' angry exchange. "What's happening? Why have I been brought here? Where is that wolfshead, Marion? If I don't start getting some answers quickly, I shall have no choice but to force them from you! So are you going to tell me what's happening or not?"
Marion froze, becoming increasingly alarmed at the whole change in Guy's voice and manner. "What have you done to him?" she asked again, this time speaking only in a sharp whisper.
"My lady, I swear that I did nothing more than what you bid me to do," answered Lilith, who was beginning to feel a little anxious about all of this. "If you should question anyone, it should be him," she added, waving a hand at Gulnar.
"Well?" demanded Marion.
"I don't care whose fault it is!" shouted Gisburne before the sorcerer could answer. "I don't even know what you're talking about!"
"My lord, you should rest," Marion said wearily.
"Rest? How am I supposed to rest around here? You only want me to rest so you can kill me!"
"Kill you? I've risked everything tonight trying to save you!"
"Save me? For almost as long as I've known you, you and those wolfsheads have been trying to kill me!"
"But I only met you tonight!"
"You're possessed if you think that, Marion. We've been enemies for years."
"But that's ridiculous, my lord. Why would I be your enemy?"
"Because you're a wolfshead!"
"I am not a wolfshead," said Marion firmly. "I am Marion, Baroness de Belleme."
"And I'm Queen Guinevere," commented Gisburne in such a sarcastic tone that Lilith couldn't help giggling.
"Shall I fetch him a dress?" she joked.
"Get out!" screamed Marion, her cheeks flushing almost as brightly as her hair.
"Yes, my lady," murmured Lilith, who actually blanched. She and Gulnar quickly backed out of the crypt, leaving the Baroness and Gisburne alone.
Gisburne stared at Marion, completely taken aback. He had never seen her look that angry before. Someone must have possessed her and that someone must have been Gulnar. Yes, Gulnar could possess anyone, reasoned Gisburne, remembering his own frightening experience with the sorcerer.
Gulnar had possessed Marion and, for some reason, wanted her to believe that she was Simon de Belleme's wife. Maybe it was a part of Gulnar's spell over her. His enchantment over Marion was why she was acting so strangely. It was why she seemed to insist that he was this Guy of Huntingdon.
Well, she could shout as much as she wanted. Gisburne knew how to shout too. He could shout louder than anyone he knew. However, Marion didn't shout anymore. When she finally did speak to him, her tone was calm and quiet again.
"My lord," said Marion gently, gracing Gisburne with her kindest smile, "I don't wish to harm you. I only wish to help. Do you believe me when I tell you this?"
Did he? He couldn't trust her if his life depended on it! And, unfortunately, by the look of things, it did.
"My lord, something is troubling you. It would help if you spoke about it. You might feel better if you do." Marion looked at Gisburne hopefully, but Gisburne was barely listening.
What was he going to do? He had to get out of Belleme Castle - that was what he had to do! But where could he go? If he went to Nottingham Castle, the Sheriff would personally see to it that his head was put back on the block. If he went anywhere else, the Sheriff might still see to it that he was arrested and executed.
"I'm going," stated Guy, deciding that the risk he was taking was worth it. Anything was better than being stuck in Belleme Castle with a possessed woman and a sorcerer! He pushed his way past Marion, but she didn't appear to be too happy about this. Her hand latched on to his arm.
"I said, I'm going," repeated Gisburne coldly.
"But, my lord, you can't leave," said Marion, gripping Gisburne's arm even tighter.
"And why not?" asked Guy, trying to keep his temper long enough not to explode.
"You're still not well enough. You should--"
"I'm fine!" snarled Gisburne. "Marion, let go of me!"
"All right," replied Marion hastily, watching nervously as Gisburne's mood became darker and darker still. "Yes, all right." She slowly released his arm.
Gisburne managed a very thin smile. "Good. I'm glad you've been taught to obey something." He started to walk away, but then gave another growl of anger as Marion's hand fell on his arm again. "WHAT?" he shouted.
"You may go anywhere you wish, my lord, but I'm coming with you," said Marion.
Gisburne shook his head vehemently. "No, you'll stay here!" he ordered in his best military style of command. Marion ignored him.
"You're going to Sherwood, aren't you?" asked Marion.
"Sherwood? Now why would I do that?"
"You keep talking of Sherwood, Robin Hood and outlaws. You even accused me of being one! Is that where you wish to go, my lord?"
"I don't care about that wolfshead! I have enough to worry about without getting mixed up with him!"
"Then where is it you wish to go?"
Gisburne hesitated then threw up his hands in despair. "I don't know." He pulled away from his adversary, sliding down to the ground. Marion sat down beside Gisburne, watching him with a puzzled glance as he placed his head in his hands. "Leave me alone," Gisburne growled, sensing that she was staring at him.
"But you do want to go to Sherwood, don't you?" Marion persisted, unwilling to give up just yet. "If we went to Sherwood, I could prove to you that I'm not an outlaw. Then, you would trust me."
"Ha!" came the muffled reply through Gisburne's hands. "Trust you?"
"But if we went to Sherwood, we could rid Nottingham of this wolfshead once and for all!" cried Marion enthusiastically.
Gisburne shook his head. She had gone mad. She had truly gone mad. "No," he began. "I..." Then he hesitated, wondering if maybe her idea wasn't such a bad one after all. He would have Marion with him, who had proved to be a valuable bargaining piece in the past. It wouldn't matter to that wolfshead if she were possessed or mad. The miserable fool loved her. He would do almost anything to save her, even, and Gisburne had to smile at this, throw his own life away to preserve her.
With Marion as a hostage, Robin Hood would have to surrender himself to Gisburne. Then Gisburne could deliver the outlaw to the King and be pardoned. Yes, and perhaps he would even be the next High Sheriff of Nottingham. Once he had won the King's favour with Robin Hood's capture, Robert de Rainault would be the one with his head on the block!
"Are we going to Sherwood then?" asked Marion, almost as if reading Gisburne's thoughts.
"Yes, yes, all right!" Gisburne snapped. "We'll go to Sherwood!" God's Teeth, she's as stubborn as a mule, he thought, remembering the words the Sheriff had once used to describe her. And she's as stupid as one too, he mused pleasantly, as they both rose and headed out of the castle.
* * * *
Chapter Five
Loxley sat silently, watching the fire glow against the darkness of the night. His companions slept peacefully around him. He had tried to sleep, but found that it was impossible. The words he had shared with Herne were still etched deeply in his mind.
"But I am your son," Loxley had said.
"There is another."
"Another?"
"Yes. He will come to the forest to be my son and do my bidding and he will lead you until the Wheel turns again. When he comes, you will know and understand his power and you shall bring him to me."
Another son. No matter how hard Loxley stared into the thin orange and yellow flames, he couldn't forget the words. As he watched the fire hungrily devour twigs and branches, he could feel a painful emptiness inside him. It was as if the flames were devouring his heart as well.
He had failed Herne. That was why Herne needed another son.
He wondered if the powers of Light and Darkness had ever truly been with him, or if it had all been a mistake. Had everything they had done been for nothing? Was their quest to help the poor and oppressed nothing but a farce? The people of Nottingham seemed to think so; there was laughter heard whenever someone spoke his name.
Herne seemed to think so, for there was the prophecy he had given.
Loxley had promised to follow Herne's wishes, although he had been unwilling to relinquish his title.
Herne was his master. Loxley had sworn to obey him. However, as Loxley looked down at his sleeping friends, he couldn't help wondering how much longer that would last.
He rose, suddenly feeling cold despite the warmth of the fire. He wrapped his blanket of fur around himself tightly and decided that he would try to get some sleep. After all, he and the others were planning a raid tomorrow. If they were to have any chance of succeeding, they would need all the sleep they could get. It was hard enough for them to rob anyone when they were awake! Loxley sighed. No wonder the people of Nottingham laughed. He sometimes felt halfway between laughing and crying himself.
He was about to kneel down to extinguish the fire, believing there was no point in keeping flames that provided no warmth, when he turned, sensing something other than trees behind him.
"Robin," said a voice, and a young man stepped forward.
Loxley studied the face, trying to remember where he had seen it before. The man's fair golden hair was tinged red like the flames of the fire, his pale blue eyes sparkling from some strong source of energy that came from within. Loxley saw the hope and strength he had been missing, the young man's smile yielding the confidence he could never acquire. And there wasn't just confidence in that smile, but warmth of spirit as well.
"You're the one," stated Loxley.
"The one?"
"My successor...Herne's son."
"I..." began the other man, hesitating. But then he grasped at his courage and looked Loxley straight in the eyes.
"Yes," he replied. "I'm Herne's son."
"Come with me," said Loxley.
* * * *
Robin allowed Loxley to lead him to Herne's cave, although he knew that he could probably guide himself blind which, at night, was what he virtually was. But he and Loxley both knew and understood the forest better than anyone and the steps they took were sure.
How many times had Loxley travelled through the huge and towering trees of the forest, or across the dark still waters of the lake to meet the forest god? How many times had Loxley heard him speak the words of a prophecy, the words of a riddle he could not understand? How many quests had Loxley set out on, carrying the powers of Light and Darkness on his shoulders? For that matter, wondered Robin, how many times had he done all of these things himself?
He's so young, thought Robin. He had momentarily forgotten that Loxley was about the same age as he was, if not older. However, he could still hear Loxley questioning his own competence and abilities and whether his strength and courage as a leader had been true. Had he truly earned the right to be Herne's son? Was this right about to be taken away, along with his title?
Robin could understand Loxley's concerns perfectly. He had felt them himself many times. Robin knew that if he ever returned to his proper time, he would probably experience these same concerns again. If he ever managed to return again...
"We're almost there," said the present Robin Hood, breaking through his companion's thoughts. "See there? Through that tree? That's Herne's cave."
"Yes, I see it. I think I can find my way from here. Thank you."
Loxley gave a brief nod, his eyes wild and lost for a moment. Then he turned away and was gone, disappearing quickly into the night.
I will not steal this from him, vowed Robin. No matter what happens, he is still Herne's son; he is still Robin Hood.
* * * *
Robin listened to the echo of his footfalls as he made his way down the dark passage. Light flickered in the distance. Robin was certain that its source had to be the Sacred Fire.
Herne would be there waiting for him, but would this be the same Herne he had come to know? Robin entered the cave, deciding that it was time to find out. However, Robin paused at the entrance, watching Herne's shadow as it cast itself, huge against the cold damp wall. Then Robin gathered up his courage again and walked forward to greet the man in front of him. They eyed one another for a moment, and then Herne's strong hands clasped Robin by the shoulders.
"Good," said Herne. "You have come. We must act quickly, Robin. The Wheel will soon turn again. You must be prepared."
Robin released the breath he had been holding, vastly relieved to see that at least Herne hadn't changed with the Wheel's turning.
"What happened, Herne?" asked Robin. "Why is everything so different now? I only wanted to save the people of Wickham from dying, not change time altogether."
Herne smiled, but it was with a sense of forlornness. "You ask questions that require too many answers. Come." They moved closer to the fire. "Take the cup and drink." Robin took the chalice from the stone altar in front of him and sipped from it, prepared for the strange burning sensation of the drug as it spread through him. He then braced himself and made ready to look into the fire. But Herne stopped him.
"The answers you seek will not be found in the flame's light. See the pool of water lying on the altar?" asked Herne. Robin nodded, taking in the plain wooden bowl. "It is there that you will find your answers. It is there that you will see the reflection of yourself and the flame's light. The Sacred Fire holds knowledge of the past, as well as the future. The true time will be a reflection of this one. The knowledge of the Sacred Fire will guide you.
"Draw your eyes upon the water. Focus your thoughts to the time that existed before the Wheel turned and what should have been this time, but was not. Let your thoughts fly free and unfettered! Let your mind travel on the ripples of the water and carry you where you must go..."
Robin allowed himself to be drawn and then transported by the ripples. The simple wooden bowl seemed to grow ten times larger. Robin could see his face turn ugly and grotesque as it was reflected in the huge circle in front of him. It shimmered for a moment then slowly disappeared under the smooth darkness of the water. The bright yellow flames of the Sacred Fire rose to replace it. The flames were all he could see. They filled his entire vision until the gentle flow of the water returned again and the flames were calm. Then, it was as Herne had said. Robin let his thoughts float on top of the water, the slow ripples flowing deeper and deeper into his mind.
From the depths of the water, an image began to form. It took Robin several seconds to discern what it was. Then, he saw the trees of a forest and a boy holding a bow at his side. It was Much: a younger Much, in fact, and the forest he was in was Sherwood. Much raised the bow, taking an arrow from his quiver and releasing it. It struck a deer.
The deer's wide terrified eyes were all Robin could see for a few seconds, before the image was washed away by the water. The deer's eyes became Robin of Loxley's eyes as he looked at the slain animal. Next, Robin could see Loxley walking angrily to some bushes to haul out the frightened boy. They were arguing as Robin hoisted the body of the deer over his shoulders and searched for a place to hide it...
The vision faded and Robin almost gasped as he gazed into the cold unfeeling eyes of Guy of Gisburne. The knight was with a small party of soldiers. Gisburne's horse moved and the soldiers were thundering down a hill and into the glade below...
The vision of the horses racing past dissolved and melted away, and Loxley and Much were running frantically from the soldiers. They were soon surrounded on all sides, a triumphant Gisburne gloating down at them from his mount...
Everything was replaced by darkness. Loxley and Much were in the dungeon at Nottingham Castle. A figure stepped into the light. It was Scarlet, accompanied by two other men. One by one their hands fell on top of Loxley's. Their eager faces peered through the grime of the dungeon, out of the grille and into the light...
Loxley and his friends were flooding into the courtyard, soldiers running to attack them. They fought off the ones they could and ran towards the portcullis, everyone escaping but Loxley...
Gisburne was chasing his quarry, his sword waving in his hand. Loxly ran back into the castle...
The stone walls forming the outside of the castle transformed into the inner walls of a chamber. Loxley was staring at a startled girl. She looked as boldly as she could at the intruder. Marion...
Her deep hazel eyes turned into pools of water that merged into the vision of a pond. Beside the pond was a mill. It was the mill Much's father had once owned...
Gisburne was there questioning the miller. The men were arguing. Gisburne's sword was out and, in an instant, the man was dead...
Blood seemed to pass across the water in the bowl. It blocked out everything until Robin could see the vision of Much sobbing in the trees. Then, a shield of mist covered the images Robin had seen. Robin felt himself being slowly released from the strong pull of the water and the hold of the Sacred Fire. He found himself looking into the same wooden bowl he had started with. Shocked, he realized that the reflection staring back at him wasn't his own.
Robin gave a start and backed away from the altar.
"What did you see?" questioned Herne, taking Robin by the shoulders again.
"At first, I thought it was me, but when I looked closer...I don't know who it was...It should have been me, but it wasn't..."
"You will find out soon enough," said Herne. "Rest now and return here by nightfall. Go now and Blessed Be."
Robin did not argue with Herne or insist on staying. His head ached and he suddenly felt exhausted. He was also frustrated that his visions had ended before he had learned more, not that he had understood what he had seen.
* * * *
He walked down the long passage leading out of Herne's cave feeling much less confident than when he had gone in. When he finally made it out of the cave, he was so dazed by all that he had seen that he hardly saw Loxley, who had stepped out from the dark shadow of an oak tree to escort him back to the camp. Somehow, Robin managed to fall into step with Loxley, who wisely kept silent as they travelled, knowing that his companion probably had much to think about after his meeting with Herne. Loxley knew he always did, so he made no attempt at conversation, allowing this stranger to think things through for himself.
Robin had realized soon enough that the scattered images had been a part of the past - the proper past - and that they held some significance. Robin thought back to the set of visions he had seen, trying to decipher what their meaning could be, but the fragments he did remember seemed to offer him no answer. The harder he thought about them, the more confused he became.
Finally, he gave up the effort and focused his mind back on the present where he was walking through Sherwood with Loxley. They had almost reached the camp. Robin peered through the trees and into the sky. He was surprised to notice that the sun had begun to rise. With all of the thoughts running through his head, he hadn't even noticed the amount of time that had passed. However, as he and Loxley entered the camp, it was apparent that Robin Hood's companions were well aware of it.
They had already awoken and were stirring about the camp, waiting for their leader's return, though none of them seemed very anxious about Loxley's disappearance during the night. They greeted Loxley almost casually, as if they were accustomed to him leaving the camp without notice. But, then, with a leader who was Herne's son, they should have quickly become used to it. Nevertheless, they did study the stranger to their camp with questioning eyes. Robin looked down, remembering the fancy clothes he was still wearing from the feast. He wished he had taken the time to change.
Loxley invited him to sit among them, but made no attempt at introductions for either his men or Robin. The outlaws' glances were rather hostile and defensive, yet frightened and curious at the same time. Robin met their eyes without expression. He knew from both instinct and experience that smiling might cause anger, and any toughness or aggression on his part would only provoke a fight. No words were spoken for a time by either side.
The silence was only broken when Loxley passed his guest the communal wooden cup the outlaws were accustomed to sharing. He offered Robin a sip of water: a sign to the others that their leader welcomed the stranger to their camp.
The outlaws relaxed and one or two quiet conversations broke out while Robin drank from the cup. Above the quiet hum of talking, Loxley asked where Much was and Robin realized that Much hadn't been at the camp to greet them.
"Went back to the mill to see his father, I reckon," answered one of the men. Loxley gritted his teeth and uttered a quiet curse. It was obvious that he and Much still had some problems left to resolve. It was also clear that Loxley was concerned about his foster-brother. Loxley wished that Much wouldn't take such risks, like the time when Much was poaching and Loxley tried to protect him from Gisburne...Gisburne. A flood of thoughts suddenly tumbled into Robin's head.
After Gisburne and his men had captured Loxley and Much, Loxley had met Will Scarlet and two of the earlier outlaws, Dickon and Tom...
When they had worked together to escape, it had been Gisburne who pursued Loxley with such zeal across the courtyard, causing Loxley to seek refuge in Nottingham Castle. There, Loxley had inadvertently met Marion and the two had fallen in love...
Loxley met both Herne and Little John in Sherwood, where he and the others had planned to hide from Gisburne...
Gisburne had travelled to the mill to question Much's father, Matthew, about the whereabouts of his son and the other outlaws. When Matthew had failed to cooperate, Gisburne had killed him, driving Much to join Loxley and the others in Sherwood...
Loxley would not have first met Nasir unless he had gone to that archery tournament the Sheriff had held to entice and trap him using the Silver Arrow. To get the Silver Arrow, Simon de Belleme had captured Marion, the girl Loxley had fallen in love with. Because of this love, Loxley had risked his life to save her. By rescuing Marion and killing Belleme, Loxley had liberated Nasir, who spared Loxley's life after he defeated him in a fight. Nasir later went to Sherwood to join Loxley and fight against the Sheriff and Gisburne. Gisburne...
Directly or indirectly, it was Gisburne who had set about the turn of events that had caused Loxley to become an outlaw and meet the group of people who were to become the members of his band. Because Guy of Huntingdon had existed instead of Guy of Gisburne, everything in this time had turned out differently. But why had Gisburne changed...?
Robin suddenly felt his eyes being pulled towards Albion and the answer flashed before his eyes.
He saw himself and his friends in Wickham as they had been before the Wheel had turned. Everything was black: the sky, the ashes of the burnt huts around them, and the cold motionless bodies. He and the others were running across the village, searching for some sign of life among the silent mass. There had been none.
Robin saw himself tremble and kneel beside Alison, Matthew and Edward. He took Edward's hand, tears standing painfully in his eyes.
Why didn't I see this? Why didn't you tell me, Herne? Why couldn't I understand? I could have stopped this if I had known...If only I had known! They were innocent. They did nothing to deserve any of this. I've fought all this time to save them from poverty and injustice and now they're dead. They're all dead! All dead because I wasn't there to save them. You chose your son wrongly, Herne. I wish you had never laid eyes upon me at all! I wish I had never become your son.
Then Robin's eyes weren't his anymore. The two lids that opened were Guy's. Robin remembered the stranger's face he had seen in the pool of water. It had been Guy's! Guy's face suddenly passing over his...
But this wasn't Guy of Huntingdon he was seeing in this vision. It was Gisburne again. The knight was being conducted across the courtyard of Nottingham Castle, his hands tied securely behind his back. Someone was
forcing him to kneel before a block of stone. An execution?
A tall man stood over the knight with an axe wielded in his hands. Everything began to go dark. Robin thought he was losing the vision, but then understood that the knight had been blindfolded.
Robin was afraid but it wasn't his own fear he was experiencing. With a jolt, Robin knew that Gisburne's emotions had forced their way into his mind. Robin struggled to escape from them, but the emotions were so strong that they drowned his own feelings out. The fear was there, but, more than that, there was an immense burning wave of anger. Then, Gisburne's emotions were formed into thoughts, and Robin was amazed that he could hear them as clearly as he did. It was as if the knight were standing beside him and speaking the words, Robin the unfortunate and unwilling witness.
I'm free of you at last, Sheriff. I'm free! If only I had had more power, Sheriff. I could have beaten you then. You, and your position, and money, and men. Oh, but I'll get you, Sheriff...Even if I have to wait until you're in hell to do it.
The thoughts came to a halt. The anger dissipated as fear grew to replace it. Despite the darkness of the blindfold, Robin could suddenly see the axe flying down as if it were coming straight towards him. He felt a strangled cry in his throat.
Robin struggled again but he couldn't make himself move. He tried to shut his eyes against the sight, but the axe kept falling. He tried to cry out. Then, the axe stopped and hovered as if frozen above him.
The darkness was gone. The ugly sight of the sharp axe disappeared. It was Rhiannon's Wheel he saw now. Its ancient mythical stones of grey began to turn slowly before him. The stones whirled around, and Robin knew that nothing could stop them but the ancient gods themselves.
Both he and Gisburne had wished that things could be different. He had wished that he had never become Herne's son. Gisburne had wished that he had more power than the Sheriff. He aspired to be anyone else but the man who had been kneeling over an executioner's block: to be Guy of Huntingdon!
Perhaps it was the tie of blood they shared, or the utter hopelessness and death surrounding them both, that had caused their wishes to be linked as one wish and one plea to the ancients that controlled the Wheel of Time. But no matter what part Gisburne had played in the manipulation of things, it had been Robin who had demanded the Wheel's turning, paying no heed to Herne's warning and thinking selfishly of no one but himself.
"I'm such a fool."
"Why do you say that?" asked Loxley. Robin looked up from Albion in surprise, unaware that he had said this aloud. Robin gazed levelly into the green eyes in front of him and saw the true depth they held. Loxley wasn't so young after all. He had seen more through those eyes than half of the nobles twice his age.
Robin remembered the day he was first summoned by Herne. On that day, Robin had refused to become his son. It had taken him a whole year to accept his destiny.
Loxley's the wise one, thought Robin, and I'm nothing but a fool. His own father had described Robin as "an empty-headed fool who thinks of nothing but himself" when he had refused his responsibility and the future title of the Earl of Huntingdon. His father had spoken about how Robin had again denied his destiny.
Robin had denied his destiny a third time when he had found his friends in Wickham dead, cursing Herne for choosing him as his son. He had renounced everything he had come to believe in by turning the Wheel of Time.
Because of him, his friends had now split up or, to be more precise, had never come together in the first place. Marion was the widow of the ruthless Baron de Belleme. Tuck was a miserable chaplain, cowering under the might of the Sheriff. Will was nothing better than a cutthroat and a thief. Much and Loxley were struggling in an almost crippled band of witless peasants, though fighting even more against each other. John and Nasir were still lost to him, possibly even dead. He was to blame for it all.
"I'm a fool," answered Robin at last, "because I denied my destiny and, because of it, lost everything that was important to me...including my friends."
"Then you must fight to get it back," said Loxley, after reflecting for a moment or two on the subject. "No one can deny their destiny. You must fight if you wish to get it back."
"Even if I'm not certain what I'm fighting against?" asked Robin bitterly.
"That's when you have to fight the hardest," replied the outlaw with a smile. "To protect what is rightfully yours."
Robin nodded, observing the way that Loxley's fingers passed almost lovingly over his sword. Robin gazed up at the trees that towered around them. "I would do anything to get it back," he stated in a voice that was quiet, but firm: so firm that Loxley wished this young stranger would be more open about his troubles.
Loxley opened his mouth to ask the stranger about this destiny of his, but the words that came out were directed at Much. "Now where have you been?" he demanded angrily.
Much glared at Loxley defiantly and ignored the question, sitting down among the outlaws in silence. There was a rustle of leaves and another one of the outlaws appeared, escorting a frightened looking monk who had been thrust into his care. Tuck. Robin had been a fool because he had completely forgotten about Tuck! The poor man must have been wandering alone in the forest for hours searching for him. Robin rose quickly to see Tuck, who beamed in absolute relief at the sight of his young friend.
"My Lord of Huntingdon, thank God I've found you!" cried Tuck. "When you didn't return, I feared that something terrible had happened to you!"
"My Lord of Huntingdon?" Loxley's eyes narrowed as he seemed to notice the fine clothes for the first time. Then he remembered where he had seen the young stranger before. "You're Guy of Huntingdon's brother, aren't you?" he said, and Robin could see that Loxley's pride was still a little bruised after that fight he had lost to Guy.
"I was," replied Robin. "He's dead now."
Loxley's eyes widened a little. "I'm sorry," he said, and Robin was surprised to hear him sound sincere about it: more sincere than he himself could ever sound and more sorry. But Robin was soon to realize how fortunate he had truly been to have Guy of Huntingdon as a brother.
* * * *
The sound of a bird call warbled through the forest and into the outlaw camp. This was a signal from the outlaw Loxley had posted on watch a short time ago. Robin rose with Loxley and the other outlaws as they ran towards the road.
Although they were still some distance away, Robin could discern that it was a party of at least four riders: two in front and two behind. From what Robin could make out of the two riders in front, one was a large man who almost made his horse seem small in comparison. The other man was dressed fully in black and his hair was dark.
Robin rejoiced silently to himself. The two riders in front were John and Nasir. They had to be. There were hardly two men in England like them. His headache subsided a little. John and Nasir were still safe and well, and together, which was surely a good sign. Maybe Robin had at last found someone who could actually remember who he was.
"Don't harm them," said Robin to Loxley and the other men as they spread out across the road. "They may be friends of mine." Loxley gave his assent to this, but had his men ready their arrows just in case.
Robin felt a hand on his shoulder. Tuck, who had been forgotten once again, was there, panting after his tiring run to catch up with the outlaws. Much followed, joining the group just in time to greet the party of riders who were approaching.
As they came closer, Robin could clearly see that it was John and Nasir who were riding in front. As they maneuvered their horses to the sides of the road to let the other two riders pass, Robin could also recognize the faces of the other two members of the party.
At first, Robin felt a flutter in his stomach when he caught sight of Marion, but even his eyes couldn't remain transfixed upon her beautiful and graceful figure. They fell upon the hard set features of the man who rode beside her, the man who had been lying dead in his arms only hours ago. By some miracle, Guy of Huntingdon was breathing life again.
Robin gaped up at his half-brother in amazement as Guy sharply reined his horse in front of him. "Guy, I can't believe it," he said to the stern-looking figure above him. "I thought you were dead,"
"Did you now?" was Guy's only reply.
"My lord," said Marion to Robin, "You must tell your brother that--"
"He's not my brother!" barked Guy.
"What?" said Robin.
"My lord, you really mustn't say such things," protested Marion, looking a little flustered. "He's not well," she added to Robin in a whisper.
"I'm not well?" shouted Guy energetically. "I'm not the one who thinks I'm the Baroness de Belleme, you stupid woman!"
"Oh, my lord!" cried Marion.
"Oh, yes, go on pretending then!" snarled Guy. "But you're mad if you think you can prove to me that you're no longer an outlaw! I never believed it before when you claimed it!"
Marion swallowed back her anger and frustration and looked down at Robin imploringly for help. The outlaws exchanged glances, amused by the scene of drama taking place in front of them. They started to like this noble who had chosen to pass through Sherwood. He was providing them with such fine entertainment.
They wondered how their new friend was going to handle this. Their new friend wondered himself.
What had come over Guy? Was he truly unwell? Marion said he was. Robin still wasn't too sure what kind of behaviour he should expect from Guy, but to say that they weren't brothers and to accuse Marion of being an outlaw...Why, it was almost as if he wasn't Guy of Huntingdon at all, but...
Robin glanced back at his brother sharply. "Guy...?" But Guy was staring past Robin, his attention focused directly on Loxley. His face had turned a few shades paler. Robin believed he was actually shaking.
"He's supposed to be dead!" gasped Guy, almost fearfully. "He should be dead!"
The amused glances of the outlaws turned into troubled ones and a couple of men made open signs of discontent. However, Loxley remained calm, no expression apparent on his face for some time. Then he smiled at Guy slyly.
"What seems to be the matter, Guy?" he asked cheerfully.
Guy's eyes widened and he shook his head fervently. "No, no...it can't be..." He looked at Robin, his eyes piercing like daggers. "By Christ, what's going on here?" he shouted.
Robin recognized the cold unfeeling eyes and knew for certain that this wasn't Guy of Huntingdon. "Gisburne," he said, his voice as dead as a stone. Robin didn't know how it was possible, or how he had managed it, but Gisburne was now here and a part of this time instead of Huntingdon.
"Well, Wolfshead, what's going on here?" exclaimed the knight. "What's happening?"
"That's what I'd like to know," stated a voice. Will Scarlet stepped through some bushes and on to the road. He stood, grimacing angrily as he rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head where Tuck had hit him.
Well, the outlaws of Sherwood were back together again, with the unfortunate addition of Gisburne, who, along with being Robin's worst enemy, was the only person who knew who Robin really was. Gisburne now knew Robin better than Robin's own friends.
Robin started to laugh. He had to. It was his only defence.
* * * *
As the outlaws watched the two brothers, they came to the conclusion that they were both mad. One had almost gone white to the lip, he was so full of fury, while the other laughed as if there would be no tomorrow. The outlaws looked to their leader for some guidance, but Loxley felt just as confused as they did. He was as lost as everyone but Robin and Gisburne, who understood the feud they shared only too well.
Gisburne began to curse. He cursed with such fluency that even Marion blushed and the outlaws listened in awe. But what did Gisburne care? He had had a horrible day or, at least, what he thought had been a day.
First, he had almost been executed, then captured and brought to Belleme Castle, where he had been confronted by Marion, some wench, and Gulnar, all of whom had tried to trick him with a succession of lies. Then, he had landed himself in this trap set up by the outlaws, which made Gisburne especially angry. He had had the perfect plan to capture that wolfshead and the whole thing had backfired on him!
As soon as Marion had summoned her so-called servants, Little John and that Saracen, Nasir, Gisburne knew that any hopes he had had of capturing Robin Hood were gone. He could do nothing with those two around. Nevertheless, they seemed harmless enough. They had agreed with everything Marion had said, even going so far as to call her "my lady".
Of course, Gisburne reasoned, it was probably a part of the whole charade they had used to entice him to Sherwood. This trap included the use of devilry to summon up Robin of Loxley's spirit to haunt him, though Gisburne couldn't understand why they needed to do that! It didn't matter. They had tried to humiliate him...They were humiliating him, and that wolfshead was laughing. Laughing at him.
If I could only lay my hands on him, I would give him something to laugh about, thought Gisburne viciously. I'll teach Robin Hood the price he'll have to pay for mocking Guy of Gisburne. If I could only get down from my horse and throttle him!
Gisburne felt he had good reason to be unhappy, as Robin soon realized. Robin had to calm the knight down before Gisburne said something they would both regret. Robin had learned that when Gisburne was frightened of something, he would either turn abruptly from it, or, more often than not, stand his ground more fiercely than ever.
If Gisburne was pushed far enough, he could possess the courage of the toughest soldier. However, this was also the same man who, time after time, leaped into things without either thought or reason: the type of behaviour that might be more than dangerous. In this time, it could prove deadly.
Robin quickly decided that the best course of action would be to take Gisburne aside and let him cool his head before he said anything else that was foolish or reckless. Robin had to speak to Gisburne alone and do his best to explain what was happening around them, even though he wasn't able to understand it all that well himself.
He allowed his sharp scrutiny of Gisburne to rest for a moment and touched Loxley's arm. Robin pulled the outlaw far enough away so the two could speak in private.
"My brother is obviously not well," said Robin in a whisper he hoped would be convincing in its concern.
"You told me your brother was dead," replied Loxley, who respectfully kept his voice low as well.
"Yes, and so I thought he was! The story I was told of his injuries must have been greatly exaggerated, but, as you can see, he really isn't himself. You noticed that I laughed when I saw him. I did so because I believed that his death must have been some terrible trick that had been played on me and that his strange behaviour was some act of madness he was playing out. But try as I might, I just couldn't humour him. And you must have seen how angry he became and heard the claim he made that you were dead."
"He is mad," stated Loxley.
"Perhaps," said Robin, feigning an expression of sadness. "But maybe he still knows me and it's not too late to save him," he added, allowing a note of optimism to enter into his voice. "Let me speak to him alone. If I could try to get through to him and understand what's happened--"
"Are you sure you want to do that?" asked Loxley, studying the fury in Guy's face.
"He's my brother. I have to," said Robin, wishing he could sound more noble about it. "Listen, he might not be as willing to speak as I am. I might need your help to persuade him. Do you understand?" Loxley indicated that he did and Robin walked back to Gisburne. "We have to talk," he informed the knight.
"Do we?" asked Guy, almost innocently. "Well, go ahead and speak then, though I have nothing to say to you."
"You said you wanted to know what's going on. Come down from your horse and we'll talk about it."
Gisburne stayed where he was. "Do you really expect me to fall for that? To be led into another one of your traps? I'm not going anywhere with you!"
Oh, well, Gisburne, I did try, thought Robin to himself. He gave a quick and meaningful glance at Loxley who, in turn, signalled to his men to raise their weapons. But Marion was equally quick to alert John and Nasir. She looked down defiantly at the ragged outlaws below her.
Albion wavered for a few seconds as Loxley noticed the Baroness for the first time. He believed that he had never seen such a beautiful face in all his life. However, Gisburne ignored Marion's beauty and stared at the weapons John and Nasir held in their hands. He was absolutely astounded. Why in Heaven's name were they so willing to fight against their own side if it only meant protecting him? They hated him. And why was Loxley still standing there in front of him, showing no signs of being dead? This was what really staggered Gisburne.
Perhaps, it was for this reason that he eventually surrendered and dismounted his horse, though Gisburne had been at a complete loss as to what else he could do. The wolfsheads had just been standing there, waving swords, daggers and quarterstaffs in the air. If they had started fighting amongst themselves, it would have been worthwhile to watch, but they had just stood there, frozen to the spot.
Robin beckoned to Gisburne as casually as if he were inviting one of his friends to go hunting with him, or participate in some friendly archery practice. Gisburne resigned himself to his fate and followed, unwilling as he was to accept any terms his enemy offered. Robin led the knight some distance into the forest then stopped when they had reached the quiet secluded glade he had been searching for.
"Sit down," said Robin, indicating the roots of a large tree.
"I'll stand," stated Gisburne, who didn't want to seem too agreeable to anything Robin Hood suggested. He also didn't want to place himself in a position where that wolfshead could dominate him.
"All right, I'll sit, then," replied Robin, who was weary from the previous night's adventure. His head was still throbbing from the visions that had forced their way into his mind. He wondered what he should say. He looked up at his adversary, who leaned against another tree and waited for an explanation. Robin didn't know where or how he should start. He tried to grasp at some words he might use to explain things, but he was saved the effort when Gisburne started speaking first.
"The Sheriff said he was dead," said Gisburne, so quietly that, at first, Robin thought that Gisburne was speaking to himself. "He said that his body was unrecognizable and couldn't be brought back to Nottingham. Why would he lie? Why would any of you?" He focused directly on Robin. "What did Loxley hope to gain by hiding the truth? Why would he pretend all of this time to be dead?"
"He is dead, Gisburne."
"Then why...Who is that man?"
Robin smiled weakly. "Robin of Loxley."
"What?"
"Are you sure you don't want to sit down?"
"Yes! Now what are you talking about? What kind of trick is this, anyway?"
"The only trick is us, Gisburne. We shouldn't be here."
"Yes, I know. I should be in Nottingham!"
"Dead?" said Robin, suddenly taking a real step towards his point. "Because that's what you would have been if you had stayed in Nottingham, isn't it?"
Guy stared blankly at Robin for a few moments before Robin's words had any meaning. "It was you! Why?"
"What do you mean?" asked Robin.
"Don't lie to me!" exclaimed Gisburne indignantly. "You know exactly what I mean. I was to be executed. You must know that. And you stopped it for some reason. And then you took me as your prisoner, to further humiliate me, perhaps!"
"You think we captured you?" said Robin.
"Yes, and then you took me to Belleme Castle...though why I don't know. Why did you, Wolfshead?"
"I didn't capture you, Gisburne."
"And you expect me to believe that when Marion of Leaford and Gulnar were standing over me when I woke up?" cried Gisburne.
"Gulnar!"
"Yes," replied Gisburne, almost satisfied that Robin was surprised by this information. "He's supposed to be dead too, isn't he? As Marion should be, for that matter."
"And so should you," added Robin, angry at the slight Gisburne had given Marion. But Robin only succeeded in causing some amusement for Gisburne, who smiled twistedly. Robin felt his anger rise to a higher level, and then he was rising as well to confront his enemy. But Robin halted a few steps away from the knight. The only hand he laid on Gisburne was one that fingered the dried patch of blood on the tunic in front of him, the fine tunic similar to his own. It was too fine and expensive a tunic to be a part of Gisburne's wardrobe. This could only belong to one man.
"Where did you get this?" demanded Robin, jabbing his finger into the knight's chest.
Gisburne looked down at what he was wearing, but his expression was even more clouded than Robin's. "I...I can't remember," he answered truthfully.
"Well, tell me what you do remember. Everything you remember. Now."
"But--" began Gisburne.
"Do it!" ordered Robin.
* * * *
Gisburne's story, including even the details of his trial and execution, poured out with every bit of anger, contempt and frustration he could muster. But Robin listened carefully, nevertheless. He listened especially well when Gisburne spoke of Marion.
"She's mad," concluded Gisburne. "She claims to be the Baroness de Belleme and says I'm this Guy of Huntingdon. Then, she says I should be grateful to her because she saved my life, that she brought me back from the dead. It's ridiculous! She kept calling me 'my Lord of Huntingdon,' insisting that I rest all the time. What's the matter with her anyway?"
"I don't know," said Robin, "but I mean to find out!" He started to walk off in search of Marion, completely forgetting about Gisburne, until the knight called him back.
"What about Loxley?" demanded Gisburne. "And you still haven't told me what's going on."
Or explained about this new time, thought Robin to himself. He decided that he owed the man that much at least and turned back. "I really do think that you should sit down," suggested Robin, as he took his own seat again.
"Why?" growled Gisburne. "Do you think I'm going to faint or something?"
Or murder me, perhaps, thought Robin. He sighed when Gisburne remained standing. "To start with, we're in a different time," he began.
"A different time? There's no such thing as a different time!"
"There is now," muttered Robin.
"What?"
"The Wheel has turned. The Wheel of Time, Gisburne."
"There's no such--"
"--thing as the Wheel of Time?" asked Robin. "Just because you haven't seen it, doesn't mean that it doesn't exist."
"It does to me."
"You can't be much of a Christian, then," said Robin, thinking of all the people who believed in God, but who hadn't actually seen Him.
"Are you questioning my--"
"No, don't start," interrupted Robin, knowing where such an argument with Gisburne could lead. "Just listen. While you were in Nottingham being executed--"
"For something I didn't do."
"All right. While you were in Nottingham being executed for something you didn't do, we were in Wickham--"
"If you were in Wickham, then how did you know I was being executed?" Guy broke in again.
"That doesn't matter. I'll come to that later. We were in Wickham and--"
"What if I want to know now?" asked Gisburne irritably.
Robin groaned, feeling rather irritable himself. It was hard enough to explain things without Gisburne's constant interruptions. However, Gisburne actually seemed capable of understanding someone else's frustration for once and relented.
"All right, then. What happened in Wickham?"
"It was attacked and burnt to the ground," said Robin quietly.
Gisburne stared back at Robin, startled despite the fact that he had been the one who had wanted to destroy the village for years. "Burnt to the ground?" he asked in disbelief.
"And everyone was killed...That's why Rhiannon's Wheel turned."
Gisburne sniggered. "That's impossible. That heap of old stones turn?"
"You know about Rhiannon's Wheel?" said Robin in surprise.
"Only from the superstitious nonsense I've heard about it."
"Then you know of the Wheel's power."
"I know what those pathetic serfs think."
"It's not only what they think, Gisburne. It's true. The Wheel turned. Why do you think everything is so different? Why is Loxley still alive? Or Gulnar? Why does Marion think that she's the Baroness de Belleme? Why does everyone call you Guy of Huntingdon instead of Gisburne? Where did you get those clothes? Knights can't afford a wardrobe like that!"
Gisburne looked down and studied the immaculate, yet bloody tunic he was wearing. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's a trick of some kind...It has to be."
"It's not a trick! The Wheel has turned and, somehow, we've both stayed the same, while everything else has changed."
"And you believe this, do you?" said Gisburne cynically. Robin didn't answer. "Well?"
"Do you remember the day Loxley was killed?" asked Robin. The knight raised an eyebrow as if Loxley's death was still a matter of doubt. "I shot you in the arm. Do you remember?"
Gisburne looked away. "It's hard not to. I still have the scar."
"Then lift your sleeve and show it to me."
"Why? Do you wish to admire your handiwork?"
"I don't think there's anything to admire. I think any scar you might have had is gone."
"You don't believe there's a scar, Wolfshead?"
"No, I don't."
"All right, then."
Robin smiled as Guy began to roll up his sleeve. He knew that Gisburne wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of proving him wrong. But, once again, the knight would fail.
"I don't see anything, Gisburne," said Robin, as his enemy searched almost frantically for some kind of mark on his arm.
"But that's--"
"Impossible? Sit down, Gisburne."
The knight shook his head. He still wouldn't sit down, but he remained in the glade all the same to listen to Robin's story, which continued, this time, without interruption.
* * * *
Robin carefully told his story, making sure that Gisburne understood that other people only "thought" that they were brothers. This was a very difficult subject for him to lie about, but Robin knew how much trouble could arise if Gisburne knew the truth: it was the sort of trouble that didn't even begin with Guy. Robin found Gisburne's uncanny silence and stony glare unnerving. Gisburne's eyes barely blinked throughout the entire narrative.
When it was finished, Robin glanced up at the knight for a response. He certainly got one.
"That," replied Gisburne, "is the most outrageous lie I've heard."
"You don't believe me?" said Robin, who wasn't really surprised.
"Of course I don't believe you! It's utter nonsense!" Gisburne studied the outlaw's honest earnest face. "My God, you actually believe all of this, don't you? You're a fool. No, no, you're more than a fool. You're a madman! You're insane! You're a lunatic...like Gulnar and Marion. No, stay away from me, Wolfshead. I don't want any part of it!" And, with an elaborate swirl of his cloak, Gisburne started to walk away.
"Gisburne!" called Robin, rising quickly to his feet. "Gisburne, wait! "You still don't understand!"
"All I have to understand is that you're mad!" fumed Gisburne. "That's all I have to understand!"
Robin pursued Gisburne out of the clearing. "What are you running from, Gisburne? You're not actually afraid of me, are you?" Robin caught up to Gisburne and grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Get away from me!" yelled the knight, aiming his arm for a punch. He missed as Robin deftly ducked his swing, receiving a blow to his cheekbone as compensation. Gisburne swooned a little at the blow, but didn't fall. He was determined not to lose this battle. He too was tired and upset and becoming increasingly fearful of the madness that seemed to surround him. He pushed his adversary roughly to the ground and ran in the direction where he hoped the road lay. He went quickly through the camp and past the bewildered outlaws.
"My Lord of Huntingdon!" cried the Baroness, who had been accompanied back to the camp by Loxley.
Gisburne pushed past her as well. The outlaws, including Robin, who had just arrived, breathless, on the scene, followed him. Gisburne mounted his horse just as Robin stumbled forward to grab the bridle.
"Don't be a fool!" whispered Robin sharply. "You don't know what you're up against!"
"I'm going to Nottingham, Wolfshead, and you're not going to stop me."
"But the Sheriff tried to have you executed, remember?" said Robin, grasping at any words that might prevent Gisburne from leaving.
"I'll risk it!" rasped Gisburne, who felt he had been pushed more than a little past his limits. He kicked Robin in the face and thundered off towards the main road before anyone could even think of stopping him.
Loxley assisted his new companion to his feet, watching the blood course from his nose down to his fancy tunic.
"Shouldn't we go after him?" asked Loxley, who knew that if Much ever pulled anything like that, he'd be after him in a flash.
"No," replied Robin angrily. "Leave him. Let him go where he likes."
* * * *
Gisburne rode towards Nottingham Castle, concentrating on barely any of his surroundings. He was too busy calculating what he would say to the Sheriff when he saw him. Gisburne had dismissed several plans of action already, including one that had hinged upon him fleeing north and heading into Scotland. But he refused to run this time.
He was going to face the Sheriff. Fleeing was a coward's resource. Besides, he believed that running was futile. The Sheriff would find him sooner or later. No, he had no choice but to face the Sheriff. However, it would be on his own terms and not de Rainault's.
Gisburne might have been willing to confront the Sheriff, but he wasn't such a fool as to present himself unarmed, though he was not equipped with a sword this time. His weapons were more sharper and powerful than that. They had to be for the kind of game the Sheriff played, which employed fine wordplay over swordsmanship. Gisburne had learned a great many of the skills dealt with in the Sheriff's craft. He had slowly laboured and toiled under the hard tutelage of his lord and he was now prepared to display all that he had learned.
The knight's confidence slowly began to ebb back again as he planned the eloquent speech he hoped to present to the Sheriff. Then, inspiration struck and a wonderful idea presented itself. Gisburne knew how he would beat the Sheriff. If what he had seen in Sherwood was actually real, and not some terrible illusion, then the Sheriff would have to listen to his terms. Loxley was an integral part of Gisburne's plan.
Loxley was supposed to be dead. The Sheriff had claimed that Loxley was killed that day on the tor. But what if Loxley wasn't really dead and the Sheriff had been lying all this time to save his own neck. After all, the Sheriff had been under a lot of pressure from King John to kill Robin Hood.
When Gisburne had asked the Sheriff where the body was, de Rainault had replied that the body was unrecognizable and the people would say it was only a trick. Could the Sheriff have been covering his own deceitful tracks with this unforgivable lie? Gisburne smiled to himself. He would soon find out.
Guy urged his horse to pick up speed when he spotted the castle. He passed through the gates, waiting to see the surprised looks on the guards's faces. However, their features didn't change and they allowed him to pass without question. Gisburne was disappointed. Then, his disappointment was replaced by another emotion entirely.
When he reached the stables and handed his horse's reins to the stable boy, he had expected at least a gasp of astonishment. Instead, the boy bowed almost reverently and didn't say a word. Guy walked out of the stables, completely puzzled. No one had ever bowed to him. These new stable boys were becoming more and more impudent every day, he thought. But, on entering the castle, Gisburne found that this impudence had spread beyond the stables.
He felt wary when more servants bowed to him and no one seemed shocked by his sudden reappearance. He was even more alarmed, though, when he began to think through his plan again. He suddenly realized that there were some very large gaps in his theory about Loxley and the Sheriff. The first problem was that de Rainault would have had to bribe the hundred soldiers who were with him that day on the tor to keep silent. Then, there was the fact that Loxley had gone along with the news of his death when he had no reason to feign his death in the first place!
Gisburne started to doubt the marvelous piece of blackmail he was going to employ against the Sheriff. He felt a strong impulse to turn back and escape from the castle while he still could. However, his feet had already carried him to the great hall and a servant had noticed him in the corridor. And this wasn't just any servant. Gisburne heard himself gasp audibly. It was Ralph! It was the man who had worked a short time for the Sheriff and had tried to steal Gisburne's own position from right under him. Ralph was the man Gisburne had worked with to find the Baron de Belleme's hidden jewels. He was the man Gisburne could have sworn he murdered...
God's Throat, was this Ralph's ghost returning to haunt him? Gisburne felt blood begin to drain away from his face and feared that his legs would buckle under him.
"My lord, are you all right?" asked Ralph, taking Gisburne's arm to steady him.
His fingers...He could feel Ralph's fingers. The bones...they seemed so real!
"Ralph?" quavered Gisburne fearfully. "Is it really you?"
"You remember me," said the other man cheerfully. "I didn't think you would. It's been a long time."
"Has it?" croaked Gisburne.
"Oh, well, of course, it seems like only yesterday."
"It does?" Gisburne trembled.
"My years in that castle were the best years I ever spent. Your father was very kind to me. I looked up to him a great deal. I still do for that matter, of course."
"What?" Gisburne exclaimed. Ralph had to be mistaken about that! Ralph had never known his father. He had to be confusing him with someone else. Edmond of Gisburne had never been kind to anyone.
"And, of course, my lord, the Earl is a great and powerful man," added Ralph.
Ralph thought his father was an earl? And Ralph used to think he was so clever when he was alive. He was a complete idiot now that he was dead! Suddenly, Guy stopped fearing this spirit. "I want to see the Sheriff," he told Ralph.
"Of course, my lord," said Ralph. "If you would be so good as to follow me..."
Follow a spirit? Gisburne didn't think so!
"No, I know the way perfectly well myself!" Gisburne sidestepped the anxious steward and marched stubbornly into the hall.
"Guy of Huntingdon," shouted Ralph, trying to announce Gisburne's arrival.
The knight stopped dead as the name Ralph cried echoed all around him. What the hell was going on?
"My Lord of Huntingdon!" cried the Sheriff, rushing up to greet Gisburne. "It's good to see you again, my lord. I feared for your safety when you disappeared so suddenly last night. I do hope everything is well."
Gisburne stared blankly at de Rainault.
"My lord, you've been wounded!" the Sheriff remarked, observing the blood stain on Guy's tunic.
"It's nothing," Gisburne heard himself say.
The Sheriff guided Gisburne gently to a chair. Was the Sheriff also mad, wondered Gisburne, as de Rainault fussed over him like a mother hen. "Ralph, go fetch the physician immediately!" ordered the Sheriff. "Here, my lord, drink this," he said, shoving his own wine cup under Gisburne's nose.
Is this really happening? thought Gisburne in astonishment.
"My lord, you look exhausted. Might I not conduct you to a chamber where you could rest?"
Rest? How could he rest at a time like this? Everyone around him had gone mad! Then, Gisburne had a terrifying thought. What if he was the one who and gone mad and not those around him? Unfortunately, it seemed to make more sense. Surely the inhabitants of a whole castle, let alone a town, could not all go mad at once. It had to be him.
He had been under a tremendous strain lately with the execution and everything...Maybe, and Gisburne prayed that this was true, the blow he had received on the head when the outlaws had captured him had been a bit too hard and he had temporarily lost his reason. Yes, that had to be it! But, Gisburne reminded himself, would a blow to the head make you see the spirits of three men you thought were dead, or make those around you seem like lunatics?
"My lord, do you wish to rest?" asked the Sheriff once again to the man who had apparently gone deaf.
"Rest? No! I mean, yes...I mean..."
"Perhaps, my lord, it would be best," said the Sheriff, assisting Gisburne from his chair.
Rest, thought Guy. Yes, perhaps he should rest. For some reason, he did feel remarkably tired. If he went to sleep, he could wake a few hours later and find that all of this had ended. It was possible that none of this was real. The whole thing might just be one huge nightmare, including his trial and execution, he hoped. He followed the Sheriff up to his chamber and, for the first time in his life, staked everything on dreams.
* * * *
"He's not well, my lord," said Marion for what seemed, to Robin, to be the hundredth time. "We should go after him."
"Not yet," answered Robin, rubbing tired eyes. "I need time to think." They were both sitting in the outlaw camp with some of Loxley's men, Tuck, John and Nasir.
"He's your brother," argued Marion. "You shouldn't need time to think!" Robin said nothing. "Well, if you're not going to do anything about it, then I shall!"
"You'll stay here," commanded Robin firmly.
Marion rose and glared down at Robin angrily.
"Sit down, Marion, or I'll tie you to the nearest tree," growled Robin, losing his patience with her altogether.
"How dare you speak so...so rudely to a lady?" Marion cried. "I don't care if you are an earl's son. You have no right to speak to me that way. I'll have one of my servants deal with you if you're not careful!"
"Then I wouldn't think you much of a lady," said Robin quietly, looking grimly at his two friends, who were no longer free but bound by the whips of servitude.
He resented the fact that Marion had taken their friends and made them into her slaves. Furthermore, she was willing to use them as a shield in times of trouble, something his Marion would never have dreamed of. He said as much to the Baroness, who flushed and moved towards him in a very uncowardly fashion.
"I am not afraid of you! Just because you choose to dishonour your brother by becoming an outlaw and threatening me--"
"I didn't mean to threaten you, Marion," said Robin more gently. "And, as for being an outlaw, I'm as much of an outlaw now as you are."
"Then why are you here in Sherwood with-with these cutthroats?" asked Marion, turning her gaze to Loxley's men.
"Why are you? Could it be that my brother was right and you are an outlaw? Oh, Marion, no wonder your beloved Guy took off on you!" replied Robin recklessly. When he saw the look on Marion's face, he wished he had bitten his tongue out first.
Marion moved quickly away from him. She sank dejectedly before the fire, staring sightlessly into its flamy depths. She sensed that Robin was watching her and raised her chin high. Robin believed that he had never seen her look so vulnerable or fragile. He began to wonder if he could possibly make things any worse.
As if on cue, a series of shouts echoed across the camp, sounding very much like a heated argument. Then, things became too quiet. Robin and the outlaws stood as one body and ran out of the camp. They didn't have to go far. They met Loxley and the remaining outlaws as the group headed back towards the camp.
"What happened?" cried Robin when he saw Much tearfully assist Loxley to the camp. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," answered Loxley, trying not to grimace as a brief twinge of pain went through him. He held a rather shaky hand against his chest, and Robin saw a bit of crimson seep through Loxley's tunic and on to his fingers. Guy of Huntingdon had been dealt a similar wound and had died from it...
"It's all right," said Loxley, as he saw the look of concern on Robin's face. "The wound isn't deep."
"Who did this to you?" demanded Robin.
"That damned fool, Scarlet," answered one of the other outlaws. "And if we hadn't of stopped him, he might have killed Loxley too."
Robin felt himself go cold. "Did you...kill him?" he asked warily.
"The coward fled!" spat another one with passion.
"We should have killed him," stated Much, trying to keep his voice from trembling. "I-I will kill him! I'll go now. He can't have gotten far and --"
"No," said Loxley.
"But Robin--"
"Killing him will accomplish nothing, Much. Now you know better than that. Didn't I teach you better than that? I taught you all better than that. Besides, I was the one who started it." Loxley smiled despite the pain of his wound.
They walked on towards the camp and soon met Marion at its threshold. She stood as if she had been waiting for them.
"We need your help," said Robin. "He's been wounded."
Much helped Loxley to a place before the fire, and Marion carefully examined the outlaw's wound. Although it had been some time since she had administered her nursing on anyone, she still remembered most of the principles of healing and herblore she had been taught. She was usually prepared for such emergencies anyway.
"There should be some herbs in my saddlebag," she told Much. "Could you fetch them for me?"
"Yes, my lady," said Much shyly, then he ran like a rabbit to find them.
"How did this happen?" Marion asked Loxley as she ripped up cloth to make a bandage.
"He was fighting, my lady," answered an outlaw, who was a little more bold than Much.
"Why?" Marion asked Loxley in interest.
"I was speaking to the outlaw known as Will Scarlet," said Loxley. "It began as an argument then turned into a fight."
"What did you argue about?"
"It doesn't matter," snapped Loxley, wincing painfully as Marion delved a little too deeply into his wound.
"I see," replied Marion quietly, looking away.
Loxley read something he didn't like in Marion's expression and quickly strove to repair any hurt feelings on her part. "I called him a cutthroat," said Loxley, feeling rather awkward. "A common cutthroat,"
"You?" Marion tried to hide a smile.
"I am not a cutthroat, my lady."
"Then what would you call yourself?"
"I am an outlaw but not a cutthroat. We are all outlaws and, unlike cutthroats, we don't kill unless we have to. The money we steal is for the poor, not for ourselves. There is a difference."
"Yes," said Marion. "You're fighting against something you can't possibly hope to conquer. At least this Will Scarlet can see that."
"Can he? We try to fight for what we believe in. Isn't that enough?"
Marion met Loxley's intent gaze, but gave no answer.
"I asked him to join us," continued Loxley, speaking to his friends.
"Why?" asked Much, entering the camp with Marion's herbs.
"I don't know. It just came out. And then we were fighting."
"No wonder," murmured one of his men.
"He's good with a sword," said Loxley, as if hearing the comment. "He's one of the best fighters I've ever seen and I have the wound to prove it."
Much frowned. "He could have killed you."
"Yes..." mused Loxley. "It's a pity I couldn't convince him." He turned his attention back to Marion, who had just finished her careful administrations to his wound.
"There," stated Marion. "You are fortunate that the wound isn't deep. It should heal quickly. Probably in a couple of days."
"Thank you," said Loxley, looking straight into Marion's eyes. They locked and, for the first time since he had entered this time, Robin saw Marion's eyes soften and she smiled a little. Then, she bowed her head and tried to look away, but Loxley reached a finger under her chin and lifted her sad shining eyes back to his again.
Robin watched all of this, the same feeling of jealousy returning like a powerful wave to drown him. But this wasn't the same burning hatred he had felt for Guy of Huntingdon. He knew now, as perhaps he had known last night, that Marion had no feelings of love towards Guy. The love she truly felt was something Robin was witnessing now. No, there was no fury. There was only the sadness she had bequeathed to him the day she had left him and Sherwood.
Robin fled from the camp as Gisburne had fled for Nottingham. Robin went deep into the forest as he had done the day before the Wheel turned. He passed tree after tree, trying to escape from her, trying to escape from every essence and mark she had tenderly pressed into his memory. But it was pointless trying to escape from love and all of the emotions connected with it. Robin soon realized that.
He stopped, letting exhaustion first catch up with him, then overtake him. He sat beneath a large oak, taking shelter in its shadow. He laid his head against the rough, yet nurturing, roots that coiled up from the ground and allowed his body to ease into sleep.
* * * *
A harsh light forced its way through the shutters and fell across the bed, making its occupant recoil and throw a hand against his eyes. Each finger curled around to form a fist, then straightened, the hand falling on the bed. The eyes blinked open. The knight sat up, looking around the room in an attempt to gain his bearings. Was it still morning? Afternoon? Had a whole day passed?
But what did that matter when he had more important concerns? Were the events that had just occurred real, or just part of some strange and frightening dream? Had he really been captured by those wolfsheads and, as a result, rescued from his own execution? Worse still, was Robin Hood's outlandish story true? It couldn't be. Gisburne refused to believe it. And as for the Sheriff being kind and polite to him, he refused to believe that too. Such an idea was both incredible and impossible!
Gisburne didn't care that there hadn't been one angry word or cruel retort, or that de Rainault hadn't even tried to tease or mock him. It only strengthened his belief that everything he could remember had been pure fantasy.
Everything that had happened after he had entered the courtyard for his execution had to be part of a dream. Maybe the execution itself was a dream, along with that terrible trial he had had to endure, though anything that had been that long and tedious had to have really occurred, decided Gisburne. But if the trial had been real, this might be the morning of the actual execution!
Gisburne threw back the blankets of the bed and pulled on a robe. Then, he went over to the window. He was about to open the shutters and discover the time of day, when a quiet knock intruded upon the door.
"Yes?" said Gisburne, cautiously.
The door opened and the Sheriff's head popped through. "Forgive me. Am I disturbing you?"
"No, my lord," replied Gisburne, confused. The Sheriff was being polite and civil to him. Was something still wrong? "What time of day is it?" he asked, waiting for some kind of snide remark from the Sheriff. But the Sheriff only smiled.
"It's a few hours after midday, my lord. You have not slept long."
"I see," said Gisburne, who did not see at all. Was this still a part of one very long dream, he wondered...he hoped. A servant soundlessly entered the room and laid an impressive set of clothing across a chair. Gisburne watched in amazement.
"I've taken the liberty of asking a servant to fetch you a new set of clothing, my lord. Your tunic was rather...Well, I hope these prove to be satisfactory, my lord." De Rainault waited expectantly for some sign of assent or disagreement from Gisburne, but the knight only stared at the clothes, then at the furnishings around him. Gisburne had just realized that this wasn't his own chamber. It was the kind of chamber reserved for counts, earls and dukes. Sometimes, even royalty. He was only a knight.
Guy felt it again: the wave of panic and the earnest belief that he was going mad, the fear that he was mad already.
"My lord, are you all right?" asked the Sheriff, watching curiously as the young lord gazed pensively around the chamber.
Gisburne slowly focused back on the Sheriff. Then, he gathered up his courage, deciding upon one true test to ascertain whether the Sheriff really believed he was this Guy of Huntingdon and that, in fact, he himself was mad. Gisburne took a deep breath. "I'm fine, Robert," he replied, placing rather heavy emphasis on the Sheriff's given name. He watched for the reaction, but de Rainault only smiled again as if it pleased him that Guy should do this.
"I'm glad to hear it, my lord. If it pleases you, I will send a servant to fetch you when supper is prepared. You will stay the night, won't you, my lord?"
Gisburne nodded silently, struck speechless by everything that was going on around him.
The Sheriff left as quietly as he had entered, gently shutting the door behind him. Gisburne sat down on the edge of the bed.
It had happened. It had actually happened. He had gone mad. He had never thought it would happen to him. Gisburne had always believed that, if anything, he was the sanest man he knew. He pictured some of the destitute beggars he had witnessed along roadsides, babbling and muttering to themselves about nothing, waving their arms wildly in the air...Gisburne cringed visibly at the thought of it.
How could this be happening to him? He placed a hand across his face and, for a time, lamented his misfortune. But his feelings of self pity didn't last long.
Guy looked up again and studied the elaborate furnishings around him. His troubled gaze became clear, and a grin slowly crept across his face. If this was madness, then why was he fighting it? Men were treating him with respect for once and he seemed to have power: real power.
Guy had always thought that madness would be something dark and terrifying, but this was rather pleasant. He rose from the bed feeling like a new man. He was a new man. He was a rich and powerful man named Guy of Huntingdon. It didn't matter if he was mad or not. What did he care about madness? He had money and power now and he was damned if anyone was going to stop him from using it!
He lifted his new clothing from the chair and began to get dressed. The sooner he put this madness of his to good use, the better, he decided.
* * * *
Robin opened his eyes, blinking at the mist that had begun to envelop the trees. He had been sleeping so peacefully that he hadn't even noticed its approach. He rose to his feet and stretched. His hand rested momentarily on the tree, its roots having just served as his pillow. He walked through the mist that glided about his knees and headed towards the antlered figure who beckoned to him. Herne.
The forest god watched his son as he approached. Herne didn't speak until Robin was close enough for him to discern his face and know the thoughts that pressed his mind. Robin waited too, waited for the prophecy Herne would expect him to fulfill.
"The Wheel has turned and another time is upon us. It is a time where you control your own destiny, a time where you control both beginning and end."
"But how? How does it end?"
"Only you can decide that. I cannot guide you. I am blind. Darkness has covered my eyes. Only you can see now."
"Is there nothing you can tell me, then?"
"I can tell you this, Robin. You cannot follow the path to destiny until you have resolved the present and past. You must face them both and conquer them. Only then will the path be free for you to follow."
"But what must I do?"
"Together they must be. Together to be free...Brother must aid brother before the Wheel shall turn. When it is done, you will come to me, to a place and time of our knowing..."
"What place and time? How will I know?"
"You will know; you have always known..." said Herne. Then, he was gone.
Robin woke, feeling stiffness and pain in his muscles and joints. He stood and stretched, gazing up at the fading light of the late afternoon sky.
"My path begins in Nottingham."
* * * *
"Nottingham?" Loxley turned his head towards the young lord in interest. "Why?" he asked, more curious than suspicious.
"I'm going to find Guy and try to speak to him again."
"Is that wise?" said Loxley, remembering the dramatic escape Guy had made from Sherwood the last time Robin had tried to speak to him.
"No, but it's necessary. He could be in trouble," replied Robin, as if hoping to justify his reasons for going. Marion's ears pricked up at the word "trouble" but she didn't look at Robin.
"Trouble?" questioned Loxley. "What kind of trouble?"
"With Guy? It could be all kinds." Robin looked at Marion to ascertain this, forgetting, for a moment, that she didn't share a knowledge of Gisburne's vast history of incompetencies. He frowned when he remembered and went to fetch his horse.
Marion began to grow fearful. Why had Robert of Huntingdon looked at her when he had spoken of his brother being in trouble? Did he know? Surely he could have no idea and, yet, he could find out. He might figure out everything, especially if he was going to speak with his brother again...She had to leave Sherwood while she still could. If Robert of Huntingdon found out about her plans, she would be the one in all sorts of trouble.
She looked at her servants, John and Nasir, and they read the intent in her eyes. Soon they too would be leaving Sherwood and returning to Belleme Castle.
* * * *
It was rather late when Robin entered the castle, but he had the feeling that Gisburne wasn't sleeping at the moment. Robin headed for the great hall, assuming that, if anywhere, Gisburne would be there. He was right.
Gisburne laid half-sprawled across the raised chair and table, his legs crossed comfortably in front of him in a rather good imitation of the Sheriff. Robin walked into the hall, unnoticed, which was odd considering that Gisburne was alone. The very nervous and tired servants had finally left Guy to himself.
The Sheriff had managed to escape to his bed about an hour ago. He had listened to all he could bear on the subject of horses, armour and tournaments. The Sheriff had left the hall in great puzzlement. He hadn't been able to understand why an earl's son should be interested in subjects that usually concerned only the most common knights.
Guy hadn't even thought of that being unusual at the time. He had been having far too much fun forcing de Rainault to listen to him as he spoke about some of the things that bored and irritated the Sheriff most. And the Sheriff had had to sit patiently and attentively through it all because he couldn't possibly be rude to an earl's son. It had been glorious!
Gisburne had already begun to plan what subjects he could torture de Rainault with tomorrow. Maybe he could discuss falconry or his opinion on the upcoming war in Wales. Or maybe even Robin Hood. Robin Hood...
"Gisburne!" hissed a voice, breaking through the knight's pleasant reverie.
"Hmm...?" muttered Guy, glancing down to see who had dared to disturb him. "Robin Hood!" He almost dropped the wine cup that was nestled so nicely in his hand.
"You're drunk."
"Am I? I only had a few drinks to celebrate."
"Celebrate what?"
"My madness, Wolfshead. I'm celebrating my madness. To my madness," toasted Gisburne, raising his cup. "Sit down and join me. You probably drove me to it."
So this was how Gisburne was accepting the situation. He had made the decision that he had gone mad. It didn't seem like such a bad notion, really. Robin knew that he had been tempted to think that himself at first.
"You're not mad, Gisburne," stated Robin. "At least, not mad enough to think up all this. You're drunk."
"For more than a day?" demanded the knight. "No, that's impossible. Besides, I could never be so drunk as to see the Sheriff purposely ingratiating himself before me."
"He thinks you're Guy of Huntingdon."
"And so does everyone else from what I've seen!" cried Gisburne.
"Then how can you be the one who's mad? You know you're not Guy of Huntingdon. I know you're not Guy of Huntingdon."
"So what does that prove? That a whole town's gone mad?"
"No one has gone mad. Rhiannon's Wheel has turned and we're in a different--"
Gisburne started to laugh audibly. "You're talking about a bunch of old stones turning and you think no one here has gone mad?" Gisburne pushed the wine jug across the table towards Robin. "Here. Take it. You need it more than I do." Robin pushed it back. Gisburne started to laugh again. He sat down in the Sheriff's chair, folding his hands neatly on the table. "Why have you come here, Wolfshead? What do you want?"
"We need to talk."
"Again?"
"You left earlier before I could finish."
"Yes, well, I'm sitting down now, so you can go ahead." Gisburne sniggered at his own meagre attempt at humour. This was going to be a little harder than Robin had first anticipated.
"I need your help, Gisburne," muttered the outlaw.
"Pardon me?" asked Guy.
"I need your help," repeated Robin. "And you need mine."
"Oh, do I? And why is that?"
"Because unless we help each other, we're going to be trapped in this time forever and we'll never be able to return to our time again."
"Oh, Lord, not that again!" implored Gisburne. "Wolfshead, why don't you find someone else to bother? The Sheriff's gone to bed, but I'm sure if you were to wake him he'd talk for hours!" Gisburne yawned, his hours of drinking beginning to catch up with him. Robin yawned too, thinking about how amazing it was that Gisburne could remain just as unpleasant drunk as sober.
"All right," said Robin, trying another tactic, "even if you don't believe that we're in a different time, you must see that everything around you has changed. And," he said quickly, before Gisburne could open his mouth, "it isn't because you've gone mad. That would mean that I had gone mad as well and I don't believe that."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying that this isn't right. We have to change things back to the way they were."
"Whatever for?"
"What do you mean 'whatever for'?"
Gisburne folded his arms and sat back. "If, as you claim, everything has changed, then why should you wish to interfere with it? Perhaps, it has changed for a reason."
"Yes, but not for the right one. The Wheel turned when it wasn't meant to turn. None of this is right."
"And how do you know that?"
"You just have to look around you to see that. It isn't right. Nothing here is right!"
"Everything looks fine to me. In fact, everything looks perfect."
"But it isn't right," persisted Robin.
"So?" asked Gisburne irritably. "What does that matter?"
"You and I don't belong here. This isn't our time."
Gisburne fidgeted in his chair, looking away from Robin for a moment in exasperation. "How do you know that? Maybe, Wolfshead, it is. Just because you think that you don't belong here, doesn't mean that I don't! Who are you to judge any of this? Do you think I'm going to listen to you because you're some pagan forest god's son? What gives you the right to decide anything?"
"I don't have that right, but I understand what is happening here and I know that it's wrong."
"You don't understand anything, Wolfshead! And I don't understand you! Why would you want to change things back to the way they were? You're free of them. You're free of those cutthroats. You're practically a pardoned man. The Sheriff thinks that you're Robert of Huntingdon again!"
"And that you're my brother."
"Yes, well, what he and everyone else is stupid enough to believe is hardly my concern. The whole notion is absurd! However, although my ambition was to be High Sheriff of Nottingham, I suppose I could settle for being an earl's son."
"This isn't a game, Gisburne," said Robin.
"But that's where you're wrong again, Wolfshead. Everything is a game. Life is a game. You either win the game or lose it."
"I see. Is that why you're afraid to go back? Because you lost?"
Gisburne pushed back his chair and stood up. "I didn't lose! He cheated!"
"Then why don't you go back and tell the truth about what happened?"
"I did, you idiot, and they still believed the Sheriff! Why do you think they tried to have me executed? If I go back there, I'm a dead man!"
"But you're already a dead man here!" protested Robin. "Guy of Huntingdon was killed, remember."
"Well, I'd rather be a rich dead man than a poor one!"
"What's the difference? If you're dead, you're dead!"
"I'm not dead!" Gisburne snapped. "I don't feel dead at all, Wolfshead! Besides, why should you care either way what I do? Why wouldn't you want me to be dead in this time, when you want me dead in the other time...?" Gisburne paused. "What am I saying? There is no other time!"
"So you're mad, then."
"Not as mad as you, Wolfshead." Gisburne sat down again. "I know why you want to deny all of this," he said, his words slightly slurred.
"And why is that?"
"Because you're afraid that you might lose Marion to Loxley. Isn't that right?" Gisburne had hit the target.
"That has nothing to do with it!" yelled Robin.
"Oh, doesn't it? The only reason you joined that group of scum was because of her."
"That's not true!"
"Isn't it?"
"I joined because I wanted to fight against tyranny and bring justice to the people: something you wouldn't understand, Gisburne," replied Robin in fury.
"What I don't understand is why an earl's son would give up his land, fortune and title to join a bunch of cutthroats, unless it was for her. Though why you should think it was worth it--"
"You've never cared about anyone in your life, have you? I don't even think you've ever cared about yourself! You're so heartless, cruel and arrogant! If you're going to drink to something, drink to that!" Robin thumped the wine jug down in front of Gisburne. He started to walk away, adding, "I'd watch my back if I were you."
"Is that a threat?" said Gisburne.
"Not from me," stated Robin, who promptly left the hall.
Gisburne poured himself another drink. "To being heartless, cruel and arrogant then," he toasted. He raised the cup to his lips, draining it of every last red drop.
"Guy," said a voice.
The knight glanced down and saw a skinny bald-headed man before him. Gulnar grinned and this time the wine cup did fall from Gisburne's hand.
