"Oh, Robin, it's you," said Marion in relief. Her fear of being discovered by Gulnar had been intense enough to jolt her when Loxley had entered the room.
"Have you found the Arrow yet?" asked Loxley, moving to Marion's side.
"No!" whispered Marion in despair. "I think he must be the best sorcerer I have ever seen if he can make the Arrow disappear completely."
"Sorcerer or street conjurer?" teased Loxley with a smile. "Oh, Marion, it's too important to be tossed aside that quickly. It's hidden somewhere in this castle and we're going to find it, even if we have to search this place from top to bottom."
Marion looked up at Loxley, noting his use of her given name for the first time. "You're certain that the Arrow is in this castle?" she said, suddenly feeling a little shy around Loxley.
"Oh, yes. I can feel it."
"Feel it?"
"I am its guardian. I swore an oath to protect it."
"And do you feel this way about everything you have sworn to protect?"
Loxley's smile vanished and he became quite serious. "Yes," he answered. "Yes, Marion...yes."
Marion was met with the full brunt of Loxley's emotions. They were so strong, that she believed she might be swept away by their force if she continued to stare at him a moment longer. But she let Loxley hold her; she didn't want him to let her go.
"My lady."
Loxley's eyes released Marion, and Marion felt her cheeks flush.
"My lady," repeated Nasir, his quiet voice actually sounding excited.
Loxley's hand closed in around Marion's arm as they both walked to where Nasir and John were crouching. Nasir had pushed a loose tile of stone aside, revealing the perfect place for hiding treasures...
Both hands fell upon the loose stone at once. This time, both Loxley and Marion blushed as their fingers touched. Their eyes met again.
"You are its guardian. You must find it." Marion tried to pull her hand away from Loxley's, but Loxley's grip tightened, and together they sought the Arrow.
* * * *
Robin and Will headed down another corridor in search of Margaret. After hearing Clun's uproar over what they believed to be her disappearance, they thought they could save some time and trouble for everyone if they found Margaret themselves, especially if she had somehow managed to escape from her captors.
If they had stayed a little longer outside Margaret's door, they would have heard the conversation between Clun and Gulnar and realized that the danger they now faced had increased tenfold. Their presence in the castle had been detected. At that moment, they were walking into a trap.
* * * *
Gulnar stepped lightly into the room, waiting eagerly for the figure at the window to turn.
"Where have you been, Clun?" demanded the figure, hearing the sound of feet sweep the floor. "I've been--"
"You've been waiting for me to come?" Gulnar gave Gisburne a friendly leer. "I've been waiting for you. I knew you would come. You had to."
Gisburne raised his sword in defence, but, with the simplest movement of his hand, Gulnar sent it crashing against a wall. The knight's eyes widened and Gulnar laughed with quiet menace.
"I warned you, didn't I?" stated Gulnar. "I said I controlled you completely, and you did not believe me."
"I still don't believe you," growled Gisburne, his anger outweighing his fear.
"Don't you?" Gulnar laughed again. "You will, Guy. Oh, yes, you most certainly will!" The sorcerer moved towards Gisburne, and it took every bit of willpower Gisburne possessed not to flee from the room. It would have been better if he had, but, with Gulnar blocking his escape, he had no choice but to remain where he was.
Gulnar was so close now that he was practically standing on Gisburne's toes. "I'm going to destroy Herne's son, Gisburne, and you're going to help me do it."
The knight struggled, feeling Gulnar's eyes as they bore into him. No, thought Gisburne desperately. No, no, not again!
* * * *
"Welcome to Clun Castle," said Grendel. Robin and Will halted in their tracks. About twenty men drew around them, swords and daggers bared. "Drop your weapons," ordered Grendel. "Now!" he added, observing that the two men were reluctant to oblige. Finally, they dropped their swords and the men closed in. "Lord Owen of Clun has asked me to escort you to the blood games. You are to be his guests."
"Guests?" asked Robin.
"Oh, yes," replied Grendel, with a sudden grin. "Until your services are needed in the blood games, of course. Take them away," he told his men.
* * * *
Retrieving the Silver Arrow had been harder than Loxley and Marion had first anticipated. The loose part of the floor had become stuck. It was only with a combination of one of Nasir's swords and John's strong fingers, that the Arrow had revealed itself at all.
Marion had the honour of lifting it from its hold. Then, the Silver Arrow was lying in Loxley's hands.
"Let's find the others and get away from this place," said Marion, as if she could feel the chill of Gulnar's breath on the nape of her neck.
Loxley nodded and both John and Nasir agreed willingly. Loxley shoved the Arrow into his tunic then led his friends out into the corridor. They had only managed to travel as far as the next few chambers, when Loxley spotted someone. "Get back!" he hissed, and they all retreated into a recess in the wall.
"It's Gulnar!" whispered Marion.
"And see who else," said Loxley.
"Guy of Huntingdon!" gasped Marion. "But what is he doing with Gulnar?"
"That's something we'd all like to know," stated John.
"What does he think he's doing?" asked Loxley angrily. His companions didn't have time to answer. They drew in a collective breath and were silent as Gulnar and Gisburne passed.
"Oh no..." began Marion.
"What?" said Loxley, concerned by the unpleasant tone of Marion's voice.
"Guy of Huntingdon has been possessed."
"Possessed! How do you know that?"
"Didn't you see his eyes? We've got to warn Robert."
"Warn Robert?"
"Yes! Oh, Robin, you don't understand. With Guy of Huntingdon in his power, Gulnar might be capable of anything."
* * * *
As he and Will were led into the arena, Robin wondered just what Clun planned to do with them. The boisterous shouts from Clun's fellow Marcher lords instantly reminded Robin of the day they had come to the same amphitheatre to rescue Marion. He had challenged Clun's champion to a fight to gain her back. The champion had been Nasir, though Robin had not known it at the time. It had only been after Nasir's helmet had been knocked off his head, and John and Will had signalled to the Saracen that Robin was an ally, that Robin and his friends had defeated Owen of Clun and rescued Marion. But, now, Robin could see nothing to fight for, or any men to fight against. Margaret had not been brought into the amphitheatre yet, and Robin could see no sign of a champion he was meant to fight. All he could see was Clun and hundreds of other lords towering above him. Why had they been brought down to the ring? Was it simply for Clun's amusement? With Clun's first comment of derision, it certainly seemed that way.
"You fool!" Clun shouted at Robin. "Did you really think you could take this whole castle yourself? Did you and your brother really think that I would fall for your stupid trick?"
So Clun knew that Guy of Huntingdon, or the man he knew as Guy of Huntingdon, wasn't dead. Gisburne had been discovered, which meant that neither he nor Margaret had escaped.
A servant entered the amphitheatre and bent forward to whisper something in his master's ear. Clun laughed loudly, his dark eyes focusing on Robin again.
"The signal fire's alight," he stated calmly. "We're under attack." There were gasps and shocked cries among the spectators, but Clun silenced everyone with a flick of his hand. Then, he laughed even louder. "It's only another trick by this young imbecile and his brother! He wants us to believe a mad woman's story about the hundreds of men she claims they have in the valley. But there isn't a single one. In fact, I don't see a real man anywhere in sight," he proclaimed, glaring straight down at his two prisoners. Will gritted his teeth, but the insult didn't register with Robin. His mind turned sharply to Marion.
His spirit began to die when he realized that Marion had been discovered too. He silently cursed his misfortune. He had attempted to take every precaution, even keeping one of Loxley's men with Tuck to ensure that the monk lit the signal fire on time. He thought he had prepared for everything, but now it seemed that all of their work had been for nothing. All of the plans they had made were falling apart...
Clun sensed his anger. He leaned forward in his chair in delight. "That was a clever trick you two played on me," he said, referring specifically to Gisburne's performance as Guy of Huntingdon's ghost. "I almost believed it was true. Almost...Now it's my turn to play a trick on both of you. But I don't think you'll like my trick. I don't think you'll like it at all." He beckoned to the servant who had brought him the news about the signal fire. "Fetch me Gulnar. Tell him to bring his guest. And have Margaret of Huntingdon brought to me. She'll want to see this."
"Leave her alone, Clun!" shouted Robin.
"Leave her alone? With so many men willing to fight for her honour? And her own brother here to fight as her champion? Oh, no, she must be present for this match, though she may have some difficulty choosing a champion to favour. You see, there's more than one champion to choose from. There is you, her brother, and there is another champion Gulnar has found for me. Gulnar says that there's a good chance that his champion might win. Either way, your sister will lose something in the bargain."
"What do you mean?" demanded Robin, who received nothing in reply but a hearty laugh from Lord Owen of Clun.
* * * *
Robin was not armed with the broad sword and dagger of the blood games, which caused a stir of discontentment among the spectators, including the host himself. But as Gulnar slid into a chair beside his master, he insisted that Robin must remain armed with only his sword, as his own champion would be.
"All right," said Clun gruffly. "They can fight with their bare hands if they wish it, as long as one of them dies."
"As long as Herne's son, Robert of Huntingdon, dies," replied Gulnar, quietly correcting Clun. "And he will die."
"And your champion, Gulnar?"
"He will die too...once I am finished with him."
"A fitting end for them both then, Gulnar," replied Clun with a grin. "I wish to see this champion of yours. Bring him forward!"
The sorcerer signalled to two of Clun's guards. They entered the arena, escorting Gulnar's champion.
Robin gaped at him, aghast. Gisburne? Gulnar's champion was Gisburne? But why would he have chosen Gisburne...? Because Margaret would be in attendance. Owen had said that she would have difficulty choosing a favourite: difficulty because the choice lay between two brothers who were about to battle to the death!
But Margaret had not arrived yet, and he and Gisburne had made a truce, albeit a temporary one. Surely Guy wouldn't risk his own life, or that of the man who could transport him from this time...would he? No, Gisburne probably didn't want to fight any more than he did. Gisburne was being forced to fight under protest. This meant that he and Gisburne could fake the match, as he himself had done with Nasir, once they had realized they were on the same side. Then, at the right moment, they could get Margaret and break away from the arena, taking Clun as a hostage if they had to. This was ambitious, perhaps, but he and the others had managed to do it before. The issue here was whether he could succeed in such a plan with Gisburne...
Robin studied his adversary carefully. Gisburne looked determined. A little too determined. Was it just a mask, or was this how the knight was really feeling...? Robin watched as a sword was placed in Gisburne's hand. Was it his imagination, or were Guy's fingers curling a bit too greedily around the pommel...?
Clun announced that the games were about to begin. He added both tension and excitement when he stated the champions' names and titles, disclosing the fact that they were brothers. A satisfied roar went up in the arena, increasing in volume as Robin and Gisburne moved towards each other, swords in hand. Then, they were ordered to fight.
Robin would reason with him. They would brush swords a few times, so as not to arouse Clun's suspicions, but their real objective would be to discuss a means of escaping from the castle. Unfortunatley, Gisburne didn't share the same aspirations as Robin, as the latter was about to learn.
"Well, Guy," said Robin, observing the knight's cold glare, "it would seem that we've landed into trouble. What do you think we should do about it?"
Gisburne didn't answer.
"Guy...?"
Gisburne's sword lashed out in an incredible swipe. Robin just managed to duck in time, the weapon missing his head by barely an inch.
"Gisburne, what are you doing?" Robin half-screamed. The sword flew out again and this time Robin was able to block it, though the force behind the blow was almost powerful enough to knock him off his feet. "Guy!" he shouted.
Light from one of the torches suddenly shone in Gisburne's eyes. Robin saw nothing behind them except the clouded gaze of a possessed man. This wasn't Guy of Gisburne or Guy of Huntingdon. This wasn't Guy at all. He was the man of clay Gulnar had set into motion, the man of clay over whom he had seized complete control.
Of all the men Gulnar could have possessed, it would have to be...
Gisburne's sword made another deadly swing.
Gisburne. Robin's worst enemy, the man who had wanted him dead since the first day they met: Guy of Gisburne. Guy of Gisburne and his obsession to put an end to every outlaw in Sherwood. Well, he wasn't going to put an end to this outlaw. Robin would do everything he could to make certain of that!
"Guy, we're on the same side," said Robin, making an attempt to break through to Gisburne. "We want the same thing. We want out of this castle and free of this time."
Gisburne remained silent, slicing the air with his sword a few times with frightening precision. But Robin believed that Gisburne could hear him, although his mind was deeply enveloped in the curtain of Gulnar's spell. Robin tried again.
"We had a truce, remember? We made a pact to help each other, to work together. Gulnar is your enemy right now, not me. You have to fight against him, Guy. You can't let him do this to you. Look at me! He'll destroy you if you don't listen!"
"Enough of this babbling!" yelled Clun, dismayed by the total lack of action on either side. "Why won't you fight?"
Gulnar moved out of his chair, and Robin saw that Gisburne's gaze was instantly upon the sorcerer.
"Kill him," commanded Gulnar.
Kill Herne's son...Kill Robin Hood issued the order in Gisburne's head.
Robin saw the look of hatred intensify behind Gisburne's eyes.
Gisburne's sword crashed against Robin's. Robin blocked the blow, able to hold his stance long enough to make a thrust at his opponent. Then, Robin gasped in pain as Gisburne pried Robin's sword from his hand, almost wrenching his wrist off with it.
Get the sword, thought Robin quickly to himself. Get the sword, or you're dead!
Robin dove to the ground, grabbed his weapon, and rolled, hearing Gisburne's sword ring as it tried to strike him. A cheer went up from the crowd and some of the spectators found favour with Robin as their champion. Although neither Robin nor Gisburne knew it, men were making wagers all around the arena over which man would triumph.
The encouragement from the spectators seemed to goad Gisburne on. Robin wasn't even back on his feet when Gisburne's sword struck at him again. Robin rolled out of the sword's path, but only just in time. He looked in astonishment at a lock of his hair, cut away by Gisburne's sword. He had been that close to...
Gisburne's sword swooped down like a hawk overpowering its prey. But the prey wasn't as helpless as all that. Robin extended his legs and hooked them around Gisburne's knees, sending the knight to the ground. The spectators roared their approval, and Robin promptly found his footing again. However, so did Gisburne. Their weapons met again.
The two circled the ring, Gisburne attacking and Robin defending himself from the blows. Robin was starting to grow tired of all of this, but Gisburne fought as if the battle between them had just begun. Then, their weapons locked and stayed, Robin's wrist throbbing in slow agony. They broke apart.
Robin nursed his wrist, resting it in his other palm. Gisburne had paused for a moment, intently studying the ground as if calculating his next move. A hum of impatience emanated from the crowd. Some of the spectators yelled down in disgust. Robin was only too glad for an opportunity to catch his breath. What was Gisburne thinking about? What was running through his mind?
Gisburne suddenly lifted his eyes and smiled...If you could have called it that. Robin braced himself, though the attack came before he had a chance to defend himself properly.
With an incredible force, Robin was slammed against a wall. His legs gave out on him and he pitched forward onto his hands. For an alarming length of time, Robin felt quite senseless. Then, the clamour of Clun's guests pounded in his head. He had to get up. He had to get back on his feet, or he was a dead man. Robin shook his head to clear it then reached out to touch the cold clammy wall, raising himself back up on two shaky limbs. The cold hard lines of Gisburne's face were there to meet him.
Fury welled up inside of Robin, clouding his thoughts even more than the blow to his head. He practically threw his sword against Gisburne's, while the knight effortlessly pushed it back, the tip of his own sword biting Robin's cheek. Robin felt the sting of it, yet the blood dripped down his face, unnoticed. He's too strong, thought Robin, as it took all of his strength, and two arms backing his sword, to block Gisburne's carefree one-armed blows. This can't be him. He's too efficient. He fights too well. Even Guy of Gisburne needed to surrender once in awhile!
But Gisburne's strength and tenacity were unrelenting. Robin was sweaty and exhausted, yet Gisburne remained completely unaffected. Robin was beginning to think that he couldn't take much more of this. He began to wonder when the final stroke would come...
It was about to.
Gisburne lunged forward in a fierce attack. The two swords clashed and struggled, raised up above their owner's heads. Robin groaned as the weight behind Gisburne's sword was forced upon him.
"No!" exclaimed Robin. He was hurled to the ground, his sword flying all the way to the other side of the ring. Robin saw Gisburne tower over him, his sword arched lovingly in his hand.
He's going to kill me, thought Robin. I'm going to die.
Gisburne's unblinking eyes were fixed intently on his adversary. Robin faced Gisburne squarely, unwillingly to shy away from his fate. The shadow of his enemy's sword fell across him and Robin waited.
"Guy!" cried a voice in horror. "Guy, no!"
* * * *
The spectators became silent at once, awed by the dramatic entrance they had just witnessed to the blood games. Robin looked up above him and saw Margaret gazing down at Gisburne anxiously.
"What are you doing?" said Margaret. "Guy, stop this at once! Guy!"
Gisburne hesitated as if he could register her voice somewhere in his mind.
"Guy!" cried Margaret.
Gisburne glared up at Margaret, as if frustrated by the fact that she was trying to ruin his victory. Then the slits of his eyes widened and he stared at Margaret, fixated.
Gulnar shrieked at Gisburne to kill Herne's son, but Gisburne heard and saw nothing but Margaret.
"Guy," repeated Margaret, so softly that she could barely be heard.
Gisburne slowly lowered his sword, and Robin rolled out of his way very carefully, rising even more guardedly to his feet. Gisburne still hadn't taken his eyes off of Margaret, but was studying her in complete wonder.
What did he see? What was it that she represented to him? Whatever affect Margaret had on Gisburne, it had saved Robin's life. If I don't act now, her efforts will have been wasted, thought Robin.
Robin knew it wasn't very sporting of him, but he saw no other choice. He crept up behind Gisburne and, with the blunt edge of his sword, hit Gisburne on the back of the head. Gisburne crumpled forward on the ground.
With another piece of perfect timing, Much and the other outlaws fell in behind Clun, their arrows notched and ready to fire. Loxley, Marion, John and Nasir also appeared. The man holding Will was forced to release him. However, it was Margaret who made the first move against Clun.
"I didn't think it was possible, but I hate you now even more than I did before," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
"Hate is a strong word, Margaret," answered Clun, forging a brave grin on his face.
"Not strong enough."
Clun reeled back, taking the force of Margaret's fist as it pounded him in the face. Pain spasmed in Margaret's hand, but she ignored it, focusing instead on her brothers below her.
"Please help me," she said.
"Yes, my lady!" responded the outlaws, as if knowing what to expect from Margaret if they disobeyed her, citing Owen of Clun as an example. Will and John stepped forward. By each taking an arm, they found they could lower Margaret down to Robin. Robin caught Margaret by the waist, and she fell into his arms, embracing him.
"Robert! Robert! You came! You came!" cried Margaret.
Robin stroked Margaret's hair and managed to laugh. "By the look of things up there, I don't think I needed to."
"Oh, but you did need to! I'm so glad you came! I can't believe you came!"
"What? You didn't expect me to leave you in this awful place, did you?"
Margaret raised her head from Robin's chest and looked up at him. "Robert, your face!"
"It's only a cut," said Robin, trying to reassure her, but Margaret was already dabbing Robin's cheek with the edge of her sleeve. Then Gisburne groaned. Margaret looked in his direction as if she had just remembered he was there. Robin released Margaret and she rushed to Gisburne's side. Margaret helped Gisburne sit up as he stared at his surroundings.
"What...?" gasped Gisburne, unable to remember what had just occurred, or how he had ended up in the arena. He was even more surprised to see the woman who knelt beside him.
It couldn't be, he thought, his mind still wrapped in confusion. It was impossible. But her face...her eyes...She looked so much like her...
"Margaret...?" Gisburne dared to ask.
Margaret nodded and smiled, then threw her arms around Gisburne. "I thought you were dead! Thank God, you're not dead! I'm so happy you're all right..." She started to weep, the tears she had been holding back for days flooding out.
"Comfort her," mouthed Robin to the bewildered knight, giving a jerk of his head towards Gisburne's hands. Gisburne slowly wrapped his arms around Margaret and did what he could, which wasn't much. It had been a good many years since he had actually tried to comfort anyone and he was terribly out of practice.
* * * *
"My lord! My lord! An army of men are heading towards the castle!"
"What?" thundered Owen.
"It's a pity that Gulnar did not listen to me," said Marion to Loxley, loudly enough for Owen to hear them. "I told him that there was an army of men in the valley and he didn't believe me."
"Gulnar!" roared Clun. He leapt out of his chair and grabbed Gulnar by the shoulders. "You said there'd be no attack. You swore it was a lie, Gulnar!"
"It cannot be, my lord!" cried the sorcerer. "I would have seen it!"
"Well, you didn't see it, you fool!" Clun started to shake his servant violently.
"Master!" gasped Gulnar. "We must defend the castle!"
Owen looked around him and saw his guests stumbling around in panic. "I'm surrounded by cowards and idiots, Gulnar! Defend the castle, you say? With whom shall I defend it?" he shouted.
Gulnar struggled desperately as Clun's fury threatened to overwhelm him. Loxley watched the two in disbelief then sensibly focused his attention on the crowd of spectators around him.
"We have to get out of here," said Loxley to the outlaws. He looked down into the ring. "Robert!" he called.
Robin caught sight of Loxley and signalled that he understood. He turned quickly to Gisburne. "Get Margaret to safety!" he yelled as the first stream of attackers burst into the upper level of the amphitheatre. "The way is clear! Get out of here now!"
Gisburne, though still in a stupor, could recognize an attack in almost any state of consciousness. He pulled Margaret to her feet. "Run," he told her, and Margaret took Gisburne's hand, allowing him to lead her out of the castle.
Robin looked up into the stands, witnessing the onslaught of the battle. Then, he felt quite nauseous as his eyes fell upon the hideous corpse of Gulnar still sitting up in his chair. His master was lying on the ground beside him. He rapidly flicked his eyes away and saw the outlaws embroiled in the midst of the fighting. What if they shared the same gruesome fates as Clun and Gulnar?
"Jump!" shouted Robin, trying to catch Loxley's attention. He knew that the distance between the outlaws and the ring was safe enough to risk it since he had made the same jump himself. When he managed to alert Loxley, he repeated his suggestion. Loxley hesitated over this option for a moment but, as he now trusted his companion, he took no longer than that to make his decision.
Loxley began to herd as many of his men away from the fighting as he could, instructing them to leap down into the pit. At first, this proved to be difficult, as most members of the band had become engaged in fighting themselves. Nevertheless, three men managed to break free and leapt into the ring.
Once they had regained their footing, Robin ushered them through the same exit Gisburne and Margaret had followed out of the castle. Soon, a few more outlaws plunged into the arena and were told to escape from the castle too.
More of Clun's enemies flooded into the amphitheatre. Robin watched them enter in concern. His friends were still up on the higher level...
"Loxley!" hollered Robin.
Loxley saw the soldiers and managed to pull Much away from the fighting.
"Jump!" he ordered.
"But what about you?" asked Much.
"Just do it!" shouted Loxley.
After putting up a struggle, Much was sitting at Robin's feet. He had been partially convinced, but mostly pushed into the arena. In a matter of seconds, John, Will and Nasir had landed beside them.
"Where's Marion and Loxley?" demanded Robin.
"Still up there," answered Will grimly.
Robin peered up at the platform and gave a start. "Marion!"
A very large and burly warrior was approaching Marion from behind, but she seemed to be aware of this fact already. The huge forearm was hardly around her when Marion grounded her heel into his toes and elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The warrior wheezed painfully, and Marion broke free from the battle.
Loxley managed to seriously wound the man he was fighting. He grabbed Marion by the arm before they both leapt into the arena.
"Marion, are you all right?" asked Robin and Loxley in unison.
"Yes, I'm fine," replied Marion, quickly shaking out her skirts.
"Can we get out of here now?" said Will.
Robin shook his head. "Wait. Two men still haven't come down."
"They won't be going anywhere," stated Loxley, bowing his head. "Adam and Hugh are dead."
John placed a hand on Loxley's shoulder. "They fought well and they were brave."
"There's nothing else you can do for them," added Will.
Marion took Loxley's hand. "Let's go home," she suggested, and the outlaws left the arena.
* * * *
"They're Welsh," said Gisburne, once Robin had managed to spot him outside the castle.
"Welsh? Are you sure?"
"Well, they're not English! I'd know their colours from a mile away."
"I bet you do," muttered Will.
"They must be attacking Clun because he sided with King John," said Robin.
"Does it really matter?" asked Loxley. "Whoever they are, they're just as willing to kill us as they are to kill Clun's men."
"You're right," said Robin. "It doesn't make any difference to us. Where's Margaret?" he asked Gisburne.
"On the hill with that fat monk, Tuck, and the rest of them," answered the knight. "I found some horses for the journey," he added.
Robin raised an eyebrow as he studied the row of horses in front of them.
"Welsh horses?"
"Does it matter?" replied Gisburne, almost looking sly.
"You're learning more quickly than I thought," admitted Robin with a laugh. They began to untie the horses from their posts.
"What on earth happened anyway?" asked Gisburne, suddenly observing Robin's bloody face and rather dishevelled clothing.
"You don't remember anything, do you?"
"Remember what?"
"We fought in that arena just now."
"We did what?" cried Gisburne. "The last thing I remember is--"
"Being with Gulnar?"
"Yes..."
They started to walk with the others, leading their newly acquired steeds up the hill.
"Gulnar possessed you," continued Robin. "He ordered you to kill me...Does any of this sound familiar?"
Gisburne shook his head. "What happened?"
"What usually happens when we fight. I knocked you out and won," replied Robin.
"Guy! Robert!" called Margaret, hurrying down the hill to meet her brothers. "When I saw all of those soldiers heading into the castle, I was afraid you wouldn't get out," she told Robin. Then, she eyed them both critically. "What was going on back there? Why were you both fighting?"
"It's all right, Margaret," said Robin. "We fought only because we had to. It's all over now."
"Well, thank goodness for that!" exclaimed Margaret. "I thought Guy was going to kill you!"
Now it was Gisburne's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Who won?" he asked coldly. He tugged his horse's bridle and continued past them up the hill.
"Robert, what's the matter with him?" demanded Margaret.
"Who? Guy? He's probably just tired. You know Guy..." said Robin, hoping that Margaret really didn't.
"Yes," conceded Margaret, though she still sounded doubtful. "It's as if he's a different person. He looks and sounds like Guy, yet it isn't him somehow. He's colder, Robert...like a stranger...He will barely even speak to me. Is he angry? Have I done something wrong?"
"No, of course not," said Robin quickly. "He...he hasn't been well..." He winced inwardly as he was forced, once again, to employ this very old excuse.
"Is it because of what Owen did to him that he's acting this way?" asked Margaret. "Because he almost died..."
"Yes, in a way," replied Robin, mixing truth with a lie.
"Is he very ill?" asked Margaret fearfully.
Ill enough to have died, thought Robin sadly, only too aware of the fact that the brother Margaret truly knew and loved was gone. Gisburne would have to replace him, whether he liked it or not. He would have to be her brother for as long as they remained in this time.
"He's fine now," said Robin, trying to lift Margaret's spirits.
Margaret gave a wan smile. "I'm sure you're right, Robert. He's my brother. He can't treat me like this forever..."
You really don't know Guy, thought Robin. Hopefully, you won't get the chance to...
"Robert! Are you coming with us, or not?" called Loxley.
"Come on," said Robin, and they continued up the hill.
"Robert, who are these people? They look like--"
Robin cut Margaret off with a smile. "Friends. They're our friends, Margaret."
* * * *
"You still haven't told me how you got into the castle," said Loxley to his men.
One of the outlaws smiled. "It was all Much's doing."
"Much? Really? Good work, Much. How did you do it?"
Much smiled shyly, then, encouraged by his friends, he answered. "I can't tell you everything, can I?"
Loxley groaned while the others took turns thumping Much on the back.
They had reached the camp in Sherwood. Robin and Gisburne had agreed to stop long enough for Margaret to rest, but the outlaws had insisted that they stay for a meal. Robin soon found that he had no choice but to accept. He agreed not just because of his friends's insistence, but because Margaret wished it. Learning the true identities of her rescuers had not deterred her in any way from expressing her gratitude. Margaret expressed it a little too warmly, perhaps, if Robin could judge by the red in some of the men's cheeks.
"I don't know how to thank you," said Margaret. "You risked your lives to save me when there wasn't anyone among you who knew me very well."
"My lady, please," protested Loxley, whose modesty had made him the most vulnerable victim of all. "You don't need to thank us. You make too much of this."
"Nonsense," stated Margaret. "You did more for me than you'll ever realize." She smiled and looked at Marion. "Even you were there, Baroness."
"It's just Marion now, and it was all of us...and your brothers," replied Marion. "No, if you should be thanking anyone, it should be them."
"I know, but words don't seem to be enough."
"We're just glad to have you back again, aren't we, Guy?" said Robin.
Gisburne's head jerked up. "What? Oh, yes...of course." He had been trying hard not to listen.
"Well, I think you were very brave, Robert," Marion stated. "You not only helped your sister, but all of us...especially me...Thank you." She kissed Robin's cheek and, laughing, squeezed his hand. "We did it!" she whispered, and Robin returned her smile. He now knew that Marion finally felt safe from Azael and the Lords of Darkness and the haunting memories of her past.
Loxley didn't smile. He felt as if another piece of his heart had been wrenched from him by just watching the two of them. He rose silently and stole out of the camp. Gisburne saw him, but said nothing. It provided a tiny amount of satisfaction to know that there was at least one other man in the camp who felt as wretched as he did. And, although Loxley's misery was very different from Guy's, it ran almost as deep.
Loxley went farther into the forest, allowing guilt and remorse to trail closely behind him. He thought of the two companions he had lost and again felt guilty for their deaths. He had been unable to do anything to help them. All he had been able to do was watch them die.
Even Much, who had often been called a half-wit, had managed to find a way into Clun Castle. Loxley had relied on the merits of another: the man Marion loved, the man who succeeded where he had failed. The man Loxley believed was a better leader than himself.
Loxley knew what had to be done. He had to relinquish his title as Herne's son.
* * * *
"Why do you come when you have not been called?" said Herne, appearing before his son at the foot of his cave.
Robin Hood went down on one knee and held Albion out before him.
"You are Herne's son."
"No! I have failed you. I am nothing. There is another. He must take my place."
"It is not his time to do so."
"Why? You said he would be leader. You said he was your son."
"He is my son and your successor, but this is not his time or place."
"Then why did you send for him?"
"To aid you. To help you find your strength and see your worth."
"I see nothing!"
"Then search deeper. You are the Hooded Man. You must lead them. You cannot deny your destiny. You are my son." Herne placed a hand on Loxley's shoulder. "Go now. Return to those who will follow you and fulfill your destiny. Go with my blessing."
Loxley turned and walked away, still unable to understand why he should be leader of the band. It angered him that Herne saw some purpose in his staying when Loxley believed that, up until now, his efforts had been futile. Why couldn't Herne see that? Why did he persist in claiming him as his son?
Loxley took his sword and threw it as far as he could.
"Robin!" Marion stepped through some trees and into Loxley's sight. She walked past him and picked up Albion, studying it as she carried it back to him.
"It's a beautiful sword," said Marion. "Why should you wish to throw it away?"
Loxley didn't answer.
"Robert's leaving. He wants to say goodbye."
"Then why aren't you with him?"
"I came to fetch you. He wants to say goodbye to you." Marion frowned. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. You wouldn't understand."
"Wouldn't I? You might be surprised.
"Maybe I don't want to be." Loxley turned away. "You shouldn't be here. Hurry and catch Huntingdon before he leaves you behind."
"What?" Marion laid a hand on Loxley's arm. "Is that what you think? Look at me." Loxley's gaze slid back towards Marion slowly. "I told you. My place is here."
"It shouldn't be. You would be better off with him."
"Why? Because he lives in a castle?"
"Because he's in love with you. He can give you so much more than I can and I know you love him too."
"How do you know that?" gasped Marion.
"How could I not?" exclaimed Loxley. "It's been in front of my eyes for days now!"
Marion shook her head. "Then you must see things that neither Robert nor I can see."
Loxley spun around in surprise.
"Yes, I do have feelings for him...very strong feelings," said Marion, "but Robin of Loxley is the man I'm meant to be with. Robin of Loxley is the man I love."
Loxley's eyes widened and he gaped at Marion, astonished. "But--"
"But?"
"Why should you love me instead of Huntingdon?"
"I...I don't know. Why shouldn't I?"
"Why shouldn't you?" asked Loxley. "To start with, he's more brave and clever than I am. Look at the plan he came up with to get into Clun Castle! And he's a better leader than I'll ever be! The others followed him because they trusted him. He probably saved each of us a dozen times over! And...and he's done so many other things that I can't even name them all! He can give you so much, Marion. You should be with him."
"And what about you?"
"What about me?"
Marion sighed. "What you say isn't true. He isn't a better leader than you because he is not the leader of this group. You are. You decided what should be done. The men admire you. Robert may have come up with a great plan, but he didn't do it alone. You helped him. Without you, we might not...we would not have succeeded.
"What about John and Nasir? Who accepted them when no one else in Nottingham would? Who befriended the cutthroat, Scarlet, and made him an honourable member of this band? Who risked his life to help a friend save his sister? Who retrieved the Silver Arrow? Who thought of his men before himself and fought the longest and hardest, so that they might escape from Clun Castle first? And who was brave enough to admit it when he was wrong? Who allowed me to stay and join the fight?"
Loxley opened his mouth to protest, but Marion pressed it shut with a finger.
"Do you love me?" asked Marion, carefully removing her finger.
"Yes...more than I can say, but--"
Marion covered Loxley's mouth again, sealing his words with a kiss. "This is our time," she said. "We are meant to be together."
"Just in this time?" asked Loxley cautiously.
"No. The love we share will never die, for we can never be parted."
Loxley took Marion's hand in his. "Nothing's forgotten--" he began.
"Nothing's ever forgotten," said Marion.
Loxley smiled, his countenance filled with wonder. Marion returned his smile, pushing a stray lock of hair back into place. Loxley stroked Marion's cheek gently.
Although it was nearing the end of summer, all they saw was the warmth and beauty of spring.
* * * *
"Are you sure you can't stay any longer?" asked Loxley, as he and the other outlaws escorted their guests to the road leading out of Sherwood.
"I wish we could," replied Robin, "but my father will be concerned about Margaret."
"And the two of you if I know Father," added Margaret.
"Either way, I suppose we had better get back," said Robin. "Wouldn't you agree, Guy?" he added, tossing a glance over his shoulder.
Why do you keep asking me as if I had some choice in the matter? You're the one making all of the decisions here, not me, thought Gisburne furiously. He gritted his teeth.
"I hope you recover soon, my lord," said Loxley impishly to Gisburne, though he meant to be kind.
Gisburne saw it only as a slight. "You as well," he replied, hoping to add an insult of his own.
"Why, thank you, Guy!" Loxley beamed, touching the tender spot of his wound. "I appreciate that!"
Gisburne rolled his eyes. He would have grumbled something unmentionable if Robin hadn't politely intervened. He indicated that Guy might be better off waiting with Margaret by the roadside. Gisburne complied gruffly.
Robin said goodbye to each of the outlaws in turn and shook their hands. He lingered longer with John, Nasir, Will and Much, whom he had seemed to form a natural bond with, despite their ignorance of the strong friendship they held in the other time. Nevertheless, they only had kind words to say to Robin and the goodwill they expressed in their humble farewells was very touching. And, with a friendly bear hug from John, Robin realized that, in some very important ways, this time was not so very different from his own.
Included among the friends he was to leave behind was Tuck, who had decided that he could do more good in Sherwood any day than Nottingham Castle.
"Bless you, my son, and thank you," said Tuck, warmly grasping Robin's hand. "I hope you find what you've been searching for," he added in a solemn whisper.
Suddenly, Robin remembered that Tuck knew more than almost anyone else about the true nature of his quest. "I think I shall find it soon, Tuck," he answered, then he returned Tuck's blessing as well.
"Long life and happiness to you," said Loxley, as Robin came to stand before him. Marion quickly embraced him. Robin learned everything he needed to know from the tender look in her eyes. Robin and Loxley shook hands. As they did so, Robin couldn't help but noticing Loxley's arm as it circled gently around Marion's shoulders.
"I hope you will both be very happy."
Loxley and Marion stared at Robin in amazement, but Robin simply smiled. It wasn't for him to share the source of knowledge that revealed the future they would share.
"Herne protect you," said Loxley.
"Herne protect you."
"You will return one day, won't you?" asked Loxley, and Robin could see that he truly wished to see him again.
"Yes," replied Robin. "One day." He mounted his horse, and Gisburne and Margaret started to ride away. Robin turned back briefly, studying each face carefully.
"Goodbye," whispered Robin softly. "For now..."
* * * *
They had hardly journeyed a mile when they were met by an army of men and the Earl of Huntingdon himself.
"Father!" exclaimed Margaret.
The Earl dismounted at once and lifted his daughter from her horse. "My dear girl," he cried, embracing Margaret tightly. "I feared that I might never see you again!"
"So did I," said Margaret. "I'm so happy to be free of that terrible place!"
"But how is that you are free, Margaret?" asked the Earl.
"Why, Guy and Robert of course." Margaret smiled up at her brothers.
Dark brows fell over dark eyes as the Earl trained his sight on his sons.
"What sort of foolishness is this, then! You could have gotten yourselves killed!"
Robin and Gisburne exchanged weary glances as the Earl continued to scold them.
"Father, please," said Margaret, finding that even her gentle patience with her father's tirade was growing thin.
The Earl relented for his daughter's sake and, when he looked up at Gisburne and Robin, his expression softened. "All right," he stated gruffly. "I should just be relieved and happy to have you back." Gisburne looked away, feeling uncomfortable, but the Earl went on, nevertheless. "I was very concerned about both of you, as well as Margaret, and very upset when I couldn't find either of you...but this isn't the place to discuss this," he added, remembering the group of soldiers who were his witnesses.
Robin smiled, assuming that his father was willing to forget the subject. But this certainly wasn't the case. The Earl caught sight Robin's smile. It was a reminder of his son's previous impudence.
"We'll continue this discussion later, over supper tonight at Huntingdon Castle," said the Earl sternly, watching the smile on Robin's face slowly fade.
* * * *
The ordeal of being the oldest son was apparent during supper that evening, as the Earl did indeed continue their discussion from the road. Not that this especially bothered Gisburne. He really couldn't understand what the Earl was talking about anyway and, furthermore, he didn't care. He found that the meal was excellent and agreeing very well with his palate, even if the general conversation wasn't.
"I always knew that Robert was stubborn and impetuous at times, but I at least expected a bit of sense from you, Guy! Oh, but I'd forgotten about the incident involving you, your brother, and that wild beast you call a horse!"
"My lord?" asked Gisburne, who had absolutely no idea what the Earl was talking about. However, the Earl continued, unabashed.
"It's bad enough that my only daughter should be taken from me, but to have my sons disappear without any word or notice--"
"Father, Guy tried to send word to you, but there was no reply," said Robin, trying to clear up matters since Gisburne was incapable of doing so himself.
"I received his letters," answered the Earl. "All three of them. But when I was finally able to reply, I found that my industrious correspondent was gone. Last I heard, you were dining with the Sheriff, and then you were gone in the night! Where did you go, boy? Don't you know how concerned I was about you?" he demanded. But Gisburne didn't hear the question. He was fuming over the fact that the Earl had had the audacity to call him "boy."
"My Lord of Huntingdon--" began Gisburne.
The Earl stared at him. "'My Lord of Huntingdon'?" he questioned.
Oh, no, thought Robin. Even when he had been furious at his father, he had never called him that!
"Aren't you being a little formal, Guy?" asked the Earl.
"My lord?"
Not again, groaned Robin to himself.
"You're angry with me, then, are you?" said the Earl, as if stating a challenge. Gisburne had no objections. Margaret did.
"Leave him alone, Father. He's tired and he hasn't been well."
"I'm fine!" snapped Gisburne, wishing to God Margaret would stop fussing.
"You don't look it," argued the Earl. "None of you look it."
"But we're safe now and reunited again," said Margaret. "Please, Father, can't we just leave it at that?"
"You're right, my dear. As always," replied the Earl, kissing the top of Margaret's head. But Robin could see a look of determination in his eyes, suggesting that he wasn't quite ready to let the subject rest. However, the conversation soon turned to lighter topics. For the moment, the Earl was willing to let the interrogation end.
His mood improved and he cheerfully proposed a toast to the safe return of his children, going so far as to apologize to Gisburne and Robin for treating them unfairly. Gisburne felt that it had to be the wine talking, not Huntingdon. He found the warmth and ease of those around him unnerving. It made him tense.
His stomach suddenly provided him with little appetite. The meal that had seemed so lavish was now unappealing. Only drink found favour with him because it numbed the senses and made the meal seem a little more bearable. But not much. He was completely unaccustomed to dealing with a father who actually loved his son...
"Guy?" said the Earl, who had been watching Gisburne and wondering what was troubling him.
Gisburne raised his head and he contemplated whether he could hide the fact that he hadn't been listening. "My lord?"
My lord, thought Robin angrily. Still not "father". Gisburne had been able to pass himself off as a brother, but he would not provide his father with a few hours of happiness, now, while he still could. Robin gave Gisburne a look, but the knight saw nothing. Even if he had, he would never call the Earl of Huntingdon "father". Not while he believed he still possessed none.
"Guy," repeated the Earl, "is something the matter?"
"What? Of course not," answered Gisburne.
"But...ever since you returned, you have seemed..." The Earl let his sentence trail, though his eyes regarded Gisburne earnestly. "Guy..." He sighed. "Did something happen while I was away?"
"No, Father," said Robin.
"I was asking Guy," stated the Earl curtly, keeping his gaze on Gisburne constant. But it made no difference to Guy. He had been tried by harder tactics than that. The Earl decided to surrender for the moment, though he still refused to give up on one point. "Did you truly seek help from outlaws? From Robin Hood and his men?"
Gisburne turned to Robin, uncertain how to answer that question.
"Yes," replied Robin, seeing no reason why they should lie. "We needed their help. We couldn't have saved Margaret without them."
"But I had men...It wasn't as if you were powerless..."
"Your men would have made us powerless. We entered the castle by stealth, not force."
"Hmm..." said the Earl with a growl, "but to ally yourselves with outlaws...Could you not have found other men to help you?"
"Father, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Robin Hood and his men," stated Margaret, as the men sitting around the table suddenly focused their attention back on her. "They are good kind people. Instead of chastizing Guy and Robert for seeking their help, you should be grateful."
"Grateful because they succeeded where I failed?" asked the Earl quietly.
"Grateful because they cared as much as you did about rescuing me from Owen. I know what you were going to do for me, Father. Owen told me all about it. He said you were foolish, and you were, but it proved to me how much you love me...That you would be willing to sacrifice your life for me."
"I would sacrifice my life for all of you," said the Earl, looking humble for once as his eyes moved around the table.
Margaret clasped her father's hand. "Yes," she agreed, "as each of us would for you. As Robin Hood pledged to do when he agreed to help Guy and Robert."
The Earl grimaced then graced his children with a smile. "It would seem as if this scoundrel Robin Hood has won poor Margaret's heart."
Margaret laughed and an almost mischievous twinkle flashed behind her eyes. "Adversity proves who are our friends, Father."
Gisburne dropped the dagger he had been eating with and stared across at Margaret, startled. That was a phrase his mother once used. It was a phrase he had hoped never to hear again. He pushed back his chair and left the hall.
* * * *
"Guy!" shouted his father. "Guy, come back here at once!"
Margaret rose to pursue Gisburne, but Robin made her stay.
"No, let me," said Robin angrily. He walked out into the corridor and caught up with Gisburne before the knight reached its end.
"You could have at least tried to be friendly towards them, but that was too much for you, wasn't it? You couldn't have even pretended could you, Gisburne?"
"Why?" snapped Gisburne. "Must everyone in your family be happy?" He crossed his arms and glared down at the floor, feeling very ill at ease.
"It's her, isn't it?" said Robin. "Margaret..."
"That strumpet?"
"Strumpet!" Robin laughed. "Guy, she's your sister!"
"That woman is not my sister!" snarled Gisburne. "She is as much my sister as you are my brother, meaning not at all!"
"Why not?"
"Why not!"
"Why couldn't she be your sister?" asked Robin bluntly.
"Because it's--" Gisburne had been about to say impossible, that it would have been impossible for his mother to have had another child because Edmond of Gisburne couldn't give her any, and that he himself was a...Some secrets were meant to be hidden, thought Gisburne, especially when those secrets were about himself!
"She isn't my sister," repeated Gisburne quietly. "I don't have any family, Wolfshead. My family is dead." He looked down again, finding Robin's gaze disconcerting. "When are we leaving here?" he asked, wanting terribly to change the subject he had fallen into.
For a moment, Robin wasn't sure what to say, but then he could hear Herne's prophecy droning in his head.
"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...You will know. You have always known..."
"First light...The Wheel...Rhiannon's Wheel..." Robin answered, as the time and place of their journey's end suddenly flashed before his eyes. It was where it had all began and where it now had to end. What he had always known was that, one day, like Loxley, he would have to face the Wheel's power, to face his very destiny...
"Good..." said Gisburne warily, as Robin slowly emerged from the trance he seemed to be under. Gisburne began to walk away.
"We'll leave by midnight," called Robin. "I'll make sure to wake you!"
"Don't worry," responded Gisburne. "You won't have to." Then Gisburne was gone. To Robin's chagrin, he realized that he hadn't come any closer to understanding Gisburne, although they had just spent more time in each other's company over the past few days than they had ever spent together in their entire lives. Robin convinced himself that it was probably better this way. He returned to the hall to try to explain Gisburne's behaviour, despite his inability to understand it himself.
"I just don't understand it," said the Earl as Robin entered. "I have never seen Guy act this way before."
"What could I have said to upset him?" asked Margaret, looking upset herself.
"Nothing," replied Robin, attempting to console Margaret and his father. "He's just--"
"Yes, I know," said the Earl. "Tired and unwell...Well, Robert, I think it was more than that. Guy was like a different person...a stranger...I know my son. The man who dined with us this evening wasn't him."
"Oh, Father, come on!" protested Robin, beginning to feel uneasy about his father's admission.
"It was his eyes. He hardly looked at me, but, when he did, the eyes I saw did not know me. They were so distant and..." The Earl swallowed then bowed his head. "Margaret has told me what happened at that place...about how you were both engaged in that fight..."
"Father--" said in Margaret in concern.
"No. I have to know. Did Guy truly wish you dead?"
"Of course not," replied Robin, vastly twisting the truth.
The Earl wasn't easily fooled. "Robert..."
"He was possessed. He couldn't help it. He was made to do it."
"Clun ordered him to kill his own brother?" gasped the Earl, before the rest of what Robin had said became clear to him. "Possessed!" he cried at last. "Is that why he...Is he still...?"
"Under their power?" asked Robin. "No, their power over him is broken."
"Can you be certain of that? I mean...Look at him!"
"Father," said Margaret gently, "if something was really the matter with Guy, don't you think Robert would tell us? He has always been honest with us, so why should he lie to us now?"
Robin felt a terrible pang of guilt because of Margaret's complete trust in him, but, at the same time, he knew that the truth, in this instance, would hurt more than his lies. If they discovered that the true Guy of Huntingdon was dead, it would surely devastate them. No, this was just one more secret Robin would have to keep.
"I'm sure he'll be back to his old self by morning," said Robin. His old self in his old time, Robin hoped.
* * * *
Just before the appointed time, there was a quiet knock on Gisburne's bedroom door. Gisburne appeared, the light from his candle casting deep shadows across his face.
"Are you ready?" asked Robin in a whisper.
"Not yet. There are still some things we need to discuss."
"We can talk about it on the journey."
"No. I'm not leaving here unless we discuss them now."
"But I thought you were the one who wanted to get out of here, Gisburne."
"I do, but I want to be certain about what I'll be returning to. And if I don't hear the kinds of answers I want to hear, neither one of us will be leaving here."
"Even with Margaret?" asked Robin.
Gisburne pretended not to hear him.
"All right then," said Robin, "let's talk about it." He walked past the knight into the chamber, and two eyes watched Gisburne shut the door.
* * * *
Margaret watched Guy admit Robert into his chamber and shut the door. She had hoped to speak to Guy herself. She had almost been outside his door when she had heard both her brothers speaking in a whisper. She had wondered what they could possibly be discussing, but felt she had little right to eavesdrop. She had been about to return to her own chamber when she observed Robert entering Guy's room. There had been something furtive in their movements, and Margaret found she was intrigued by it all.
Margaret had been so distressed by Guy's behaviour that sleep had been impossible. She sincerely believed that Guy was in some kind of trouble and she wanted to help him. She had also witnessed his animosity towards her and wished to discover why he was angry with her.
Margaret moved closer to her brother's lighted doorway. She found that she was trying to listen to the hushed conversation despite herself. She couldn't quite make out their words, but by the tone she detected in their voices, it seemed that they were spending more time arguing than engaging in friendly conversation.
What could they possibly be quarreling about at this hour?
The voices eventually became hushed, and Margaret had to strain her ears to catch anything. Then, she heard the sound of a hand falling upon the latch of the door. She sprinted into hiding.
"You won't need the candle," stated Robin to Guy. "I know this castle well enough."
Guy acquiesced and blew out his candle, bending down on his haunches to place it carefully on the floor. Margaret listened to the soft echoes of her brothers' footfalls as they walked down the silent corridor. They were both fully dressed and heading in the direction of the stables, which could only mean one thing: they were planning to leave Huntingdon Castle.
Margaret was dressed in barely more than a shift, but she was determined to follow them and decipher what all of this plotting was about. She threw on a cloak and ventured out of the castle in pursuit of her brothers. Unfortunately, by the time she reached the stables, Robin and Guy had already left. She watched the silhouette of their forms as they passed through the gates and rode off in a gallop.
Margaret knew that she had to catch up with them somehow, but getting past the gate in only a shift and cloak was going to be a challenge. And the fact that she was the Earl of Huntingdon's daughter made everything all the more difficult. However, as she entered the stables to find her horse, she spotted something that would make her task much easier.
When Margaret emerged from the stables again, she was dressed in the guise of the stable boy, wearing his trousers and rather oversized boots. Her clothing felt odd, but with her hair tied back, and most of the rest of her hidden under a hooded cloak, she believed that she could fool the guards at the gates.
She delivered a fairly good imitation of the stable boy's voice and manner, stating that it was imperative that she find the Earl's sons. She succeeded in getting past the guards and discovering what direction her brothers had headed off in. Her only concern now was not to lose them.
But Margaret had spent more time in the stables than any of her family knew, or might have wished. She might not have shared her older brother's interest in the hunt, but she did share his keenness for horses. She was also endowed with much of his skill and, although she had never managed to get Guy to admit it, she could, at times, outride him as well.
* * * *
They reached Rhiannon's Wheel shortly before daybreak. Dismounting their horses, they moved into the center of the ancient stones.
"What happens now?" asked Gisburne, trying not to appear nervous by the eery silence of his surroundings. Robin smiled as he read the knight's discomfort.
"Herne, the pagan forest god, shall come and make this pile of old stones turn," answered Robin, remembering some of Gisburne's previous remarks.
"Well, I can't see anything," said Gisburne.
"Can't you?"
Mist had started to billow towards them, gliding swiftly up to their knees and around the ancient stones. Before Gisburne could understand any of it, Herne was before them. Gisburne did not say another word.
The sun slowly began its ascent. The sky transformed itself from inky darkness to the beauty of rosy gold daylight. Herne raised his arms and the stones began to rumble, then turn.
* * * *
As the great stones started to rotate, Robin felt the ground momentarily shift beneath his feet. Everything in his vision seemed to blur. Robin distinctly heard the stones whirr as they rushed past him. He had the sensation of being trapped in a powerful storm, but he wasn't afraid. The only startling moment was when he thought he saw a woman's face whirl past him, but it appeared almost as quickly as it disappeared. Then, everything else around him seemed to fade as well. Robin could only see a massive streak of grey thundering around him.
* * * *
The Wheel stopped. Everything was still once more. The sun had ascended past the horizon. It was now day. Robin gazed around him. For an instant, he wasn't sure what was wrong. Then he realized: Gisburne was gone.
Robin scanned the field, thinking that Gisburne might have somehow fled from the Wheel without him knowing it. But there was no sign of the knight anywhere. Had Gisburne not made it back, or had he been safely restored to his place as the Sheriff's steward at Nottingham Castle? Had he been removed from existence again...?
If Gisburne had not returned to this time, there was nothing Robin could do for him now.
Robin mounted his horse and headed towards Sherwood and his friends.
* * * *
Chapter Eleven
Gisburne woke and looked wildly about. He was in his own bed in his own chamber, but he had no recollection of how he had gotten there. The last thing he could remember was walking into the center of Rhiannon's Wheel with Robin Hood and...
He got out of bed and dressed quickly. He had to discover what had happened, find out how everything had turned out. Was he safe now, or had he been thrown into deeper peril? He didn't know what day it was, let alone if it was morning or night.
He didn't know where he should be heading either, but his instincts led him in search of the Sheriff. If there was anyone in the castle who could sort him out, it had to be de Rainault. Gisburne stopped a servant and asked him where he could find the Sheriff. He gained directions and headed across the courtyard. Then, he heard the Sheriff shouting. He knew where he was for certain.
"Gisburne!" hollered de Rainault. "Gisburne!"
It was his name! The Sheriff didn't think he was Guy of Huntingdon anymore!
This could mean trouble, thought the knight, as he remembered that Guy of Gisburne's lot hadn't been too favourable before he had left. And his head wasn't in the most secure position. It might still end up on the block. However, at this point, Gisburne felt he had little else to lose.
He grasped a hold of what remained of his courage. He walked into the room de Rainault was occupying, just managing to avoid being hit by the messanger de Rainault shoved out of the room.
"Ah, Gisburne," said the Sheriff. "A little hard of hearing, are we? I thought you'd be in your armour. Isn't there that wretched tournament today? You're on the Earl of Derby's team."
The tournament? But that would have been days ago...
"You know," continued the Sheriff, in the same angry verbatim, "I don't employ you to prance around the countryside getting your head knocked off, whilst I stay here in Nottingham slaving away from cockcrow to sunset!"
Gisburne gaped at the Sheriff in astonishment. They had had the exact same conversation on the day when all of his troubles had first begun.
Could this be his chance to amend everything...?
"Well?" demanded the Sheriff, further irritated by Gisburne's silent stare. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Yes, my lord," answered Gisburne, carefully calculating his reply. "I...I wasn't planning to go to the tournament. As you said before, there are much more important matters to be dealt with in Nottingham."
"What?" Now it was the Sheriff's turn to be awe-stricken. "Good God, man, are you ill? You've been badgering me about that tournament for days and now you're telling me it doesn't matter?"
"Yes, my lord," said Gisburne calmly. "With a war in Wales, we will have to collect grain from the villages for the King's army and--"
"How do you know about that when I've only just received the King's letter myself?" replied the Sheriff in surprise.
How did he know? Perhaps a better question should have been: How could he possibly explain this previous knowledge to the Sheriff?
"Gisburne, you haven't been reading letters addressed to me before I have, have you?" asked the Sheriff, his voice betraying both suspicion and malice.
"No, of course not, my lord!" protested Gisburne.
"Then, pray tell me how you could have possibly known about the war in Wales, Gisburne."
"Well, my lord..." began the knight.
"Yes, Gisburne...?" drawled the Sheriff.
"Well, it was only a few nights ago when you said you were certain there would be a war," said Gisburne, quickly inventing a lie.
"I said that?" asked the Sheriff.
Gisburne took a deep breath and plunged into an even deeper lie. "Yes, my lord. When I saw the messenger just now, and the King's seal upon the letter, I just assumed--"
"You just assumed that, in this letter, the King was demanding grain from the villages?"
"Yes, my lord," replied Guy hoarsely.
"Hmm...you must be more observant than I've given you credit for," stated the Sheriff, who believed that if Gisburne had really read the letter before he had, which would have been next to impossible, the guilt would have been plastered all over his face. Gisburne would never have been able to lie effectively about it.
The Sheriff concluded that he must have spoken his suspicions aloud to Gisburne then simply forgot about it. After all, he had been drinking rather heavily a few nights ago. How could he be expected to keep an accurate account of the evening? It was shocking enough that Gisburne had! De Rainault figured that there had to be a lie somewhere in Gisburne's story, but, at the moment, he didn't have the patience to go looking for it. He passed the letter to Gisburne.
"I see no purpose in having you read this, since you seem to know so much about it already, but here it is..."
Gisburne unrolled the parchment pretending to make a careful study of the letter he had already read through before.
"If the King's army needs grain, it's up to us to provide it, isn't it, Gisburne?" said the Sheriff.
"Yes, my lord."
* * * *
"Lad, where have you been? We've been looking all over for you!" Little John laid his large but gentle hand on his leader's shoulder. Robin, who had just entered the camp, grinned as his friends began to crowd around
him, questioning the absence they believed had been but a few hours.
"I was with Herne," replied Robin, making a statement that wasn't far from the truth.
"With Herne were you?" said Will. "Since when has he kept you away this long? Where were you really? Come on. You can tell us."
Tuck nodded. "Aye, Robin, we'll understand."
"Tell us," said Much.
"Well..." began Robin, suddenly feeling very tempted to tease them, "I woke during the night and met up with Gisburne, who decided how nice it would be if we went riding together."
His friends stared at Robin, looking completely taken aback.
"You did what?" shouted Will. "With who?"
Robin instantly felt himself go cold. They didn't know who Gisburne was, which meant that the knight couldn't have returned to his own time. Once again, he had messed up everything! Robin suddenly feared that he was going to go mad, but, then, the outlaws began to laugh and John thumped him on the back.
"That's a good one, Robin! I'll have to remember that!"
"Yeah," agreed Will. "That must have almost been as good as the night I dined with the Sheriff!"
"Aye, John, but not nearly as exciting as the time I attended that feast of King John's," piped up Tuck.
"Or the time I went hunting with him!" said Much.
"Or the time I fought beside Saladin," added Nasir. The outlaws' laughter grew louder.
Robin joined in too, both relieved and amused that his story had been accepted without further question. However, when the last member of the band entered the camp, the truth about his previous whereabouts was one of the last things on Robin's mind.
"Robin!" said Marion. "There you are!"
"Marion, it's you!" cried Robin.
"Of course, silly. Who else would it be?" Marion studied Robin in confusion. Robin was practically grinning from ear to ear.
She had returned to Sherwood. She wasn't in Halstead Priory anymore...
"Robin, where have you been?" demanded Marion. "We haven't been able to find you anywhere! You've been missing all morning!"
"Oh, it's all right, Marion," replied Will. "He only went riding with Gisburne last night."
The others began laughing anew.
"Gisburne, was it?" said Marion. "Well, I believe that, for once, I'm less angry with him than I am with you!"
"Uh, oh..." murmured Will and John.
"Marion, let me explain..." began Robin.
"Explain! If you explain to anybody, it should be to Matthew. He came here for an archery lesson and instead he had to help us search for you!"
"Matthew?"
"Aye, Will made him his own bow and everything," stated John. "Didn't you, Uncle Will?"
"Shut up," grumbled Scarlet.
"Today?" asked Robin. "Matthew was supposed to come here today?"
"Aye, Robin, you said you'd teach him yourself," Tuck said.
But surely the day he had promised that had been the day when his problems with Gulnar and Fenris had first began. If this was so, then he had also made it back to this time before Marion had left Sherwood and Wickham had been destroyed...Wickham...His place right now was in Wickham...He started to walk away.
"Robin!" cried Marion. "Where are you disappearing to now?"
"Wickham," replied Robin. "Are you coming?"
All of his friends seemed unsure what to think, except Will, who was prepared, as always, to provide his leader with a quick and ready answer.
"I'm coming," said Will. "With the adventures you've been having lately, I'd hate to be left behind!"
* * * *
Robin gazed at Wickham's simple huts and its struggling crops. Next to Sherwood, this was the most beautiful place he had ever laid eyes on. Robin had feared that he would never be able to rid himself of the horrific memory of the burnt and charred remains of Wickham's huts, or the lifeless faces of the people who had represented its destruction. But when he saw the village of Wickham standing intact, and looking more proud than he had ever known it to look before, he understood that such terrible memories could be dealt with, though never forgotten.
He may have helped save Wickham from the ravages of Fenris by entering another time, but it was through his neglect in this time that the villagers had suffered. Robin swore that he would never allow that to happen again. He had another chance. This time, he would do all he could to set things right. It was his duty as Herne's son and, the friend of every village, Robin Hood.
"Greetings, Robin!" said Edward, quickly approaching the group. "Matthew said you'd gone missing. I'm glad to see you've been found."
"So am I," answered Robin.
"Well, we're not," joked John. "You're welcome to have him if you'd like."
"We'd love to have him here," replied Edward, beaming.
"That's very good of you, Edward," said Tuck.
"Not really. We owe him that much at least...and more. He's helped us many times in the past. You all have."
"We were glad to do it, Edward," said Marion, placing an arm fondly around Matthew's shoulders as the boy and his mother came to stand beside them.
"Aye, we know it, and we appreciate it more...Well, more than words could ever show."
"Thank you, Edward," replied Robin, feeling very touched.
"Hold on, I'm not finished," said Wickham's thane.
"Oh. Sorry, Edward."
"You're also young and strong and you have a good back. We could use your help getting all of this work done in the village."
The outlaws laughed.
Robin smiled. "Any time."
"Well, you could help us with this digging, then, Robin," said one of the villagers with a groan.
Robin turned his head to see a couple of Wickham's inhabitants with shovels in their hands and a pile of dirt at their feet.
"Wolves?" asked John, who, as a shepherd in Hathersage, had had much more experience dealing with them than he would have liked.
"It's supposed to keep the wolves away from the village," replied Edward. "We lost animals three days in a row."
"There's far more wolves in Sherwood now," stated John.
"Never seen so many wolves," added Tuck.
"I'd set fires around the village if I were you, Edward," said John.
"Tried to. Makes no difference. We lost six more goats at dawn."
"Six!" exclaimed Robin, leaping into a conversation that had originally taken place without him.
"Aye," said Edward. "It's bad enough we've had a bad harvest this year. Got everyone worried. That and the wolves..."
"The Sheriff!" cried a villager in warning.
"More wolves," muttered Edward.
The outlaws quickly dodged for cover, spreading themselves out to hide in and between the huts. As Robin looked around for a suitable piece of cover for himself, he spied Marion on the other side of the village with Alison and Matthew. Suddenly, he realized that she hadn't heard the shout of warning.
"Marion!" yelled Robin, running towards her. One could distinctly see the figures of the Sheriff and Gisburne, escorted by a large group of soldiers. They were heading down the hill towards them. Robin grabbed Marion's hand and pulled her under a broken cart that lay on the far side of the mill. Then, with bated breath and pounding hearts, they waited anxiously for their enemies to arrive, praying they would leave as quickly as possible.
"My Lord Sheriff, my lord," said Edward, greeting the Sheriff and Gisburne unenthusiastically as the two men reached the village threshold. He began to walk between the two lords's horses as they rode into Wickham.
"I've come for your grain," stated the Sheriff.
"How much of it, my lord?" asked Edward.
"All of it."
"All of it, my lord? There's been a poor harvest, my lord--"
"I don't want a speech, Edward. Where is it?"
"In the mill, my lord," admitted Edward sadly.
The Sheriff glanced at Gisburne, and the knight realized that this was the order to fetch the grain. He motioned to his men and they moved towards the mill.
As he watched the grain being loaded into the wagon, Gisburne thought about how uncanny it was to be repeating all of this, to be reliving this one moment in time all over again. Even the conversation between the Sheriff and Edward had seemed the same, replayed word-for-word.
"Come on, you idiots. Hurry up and load the wagon. We haven't got all--" Gisburne immediately cut short his words when he remembered saying the exact same thing before...on the day his neck, and the head it was attached to, had first fallen into danger. Gisburne kept his mouth shut, wishing, if possible, not to repeat any of the same actions, even if they had had no connection with his previous downfall.
Gisburne stopped badgering the villagers and allowed the Sheriff to do it in his place. Gisburne could hear de Rainault arguing with Edward and Alison as he directed his horse from the present scene he found himself emersed in. The knight rode to the other side of the mill with the pretense of checking for a hidden supply of grain. He didn't realize what he was about to find instead.
Robin and Marion spotted Gisburne and froze as his keen eyes fell upon the derelict cart and the two outlaws lying beneath it. For an instant, neither party seemed to know what to do. Then Gisburne tilted his head slightly to one side. A smile slowly crept across his face as he toyed with the idea of arresting them. Robin met his gaze squarely, deciding that it could prove deadly to look away or show any sign of fear. He trailed a finger across his neck, reminding the knight of one reason why they had been forced to work together. However, it was the glint of metal Gisburne detected from the corner of his eye that made him reconsider. And it was experience, rather than any kind of insight, that warned Gisburne that an arrow was trained at his back.
Gisburne wisely chose to wait another day to catch his enemy and reap his revenge. He gave Robin a sign that he was still willing to keep to his side of their agreement. He wheeled his horse back around to join the Sheriff, who had begun to shout for him impatiently.
Robin glanced at Marion. He noticed that she was staring at the knight's retreating form.
"What is it?" asked Robin.
"I could have sworn that Gisburne just looked at us and winked!" exclaimed Marion in an excited whisper.
"What?" said Robin, feigning surprise. "Gisburne? No, you must have imagined it, Marion. When did Gisburne ever wink at anyone? No, he must have had a speck of dirt in his eye."
* * * *
Once the Sheriff and Gisburne had left, seeking the next victim of King John's tyranny, the outlaws reappeared. They immediately began to discuss the situation in a very serious manner.
"What will they do without bread?" asked Tuck.
"Nothing," answered Will, dispiritedly.
"They'll never make it through the winter," said John.
Marion bit her lip anxiously. "We have to do something!"
John gazed back at Marion helplessly. "What can we do?"
"Get the grain back," replied Nasir, as if the matter was a perfectly simple one.
"How?" asked Much.
"Well, we steal it back, don't we?" said Will.
"How?" asked John, repeating Much's question.
"We'll gather together all of the villagers of Wickham," Robin told John. "It's their grain that has been taken. They should have as much say in this as we do." He glanced at Much. "Gather everyone together."
"What should I tell them?"
"Tell them we're going to get their grain back," said Robin.
* * * *
Robin knew that they had previously managed to retrieve the grain from Grimstone Abbey. After defeating Gulnar and his followers, they had come across enough grain to replace the amount that had been lost, but to Robin that wasn't important. He felt that, as before, injustice had to be dealt with. The villagers had to stand up to the Sheriff and Gisburne if they were to get their grain back. Besides, Robin reasoned, Wickham wasn't the only village that had had a bad harvest. The surplus of grain could easily be used for the good of other villages in the shire. Nevertheless, Robin remembered the promise he had made to Gisburne.
Robin had pledged that, no matter what happened, he would not steal the grain from Attlebury Grange. Gisburne swore that if Robin did, he would most certainly make him pay for it. Not that this alarmed Robin. He had never really paid much attention to any of Gisburne's threats. However, as unwilling as Gisburne had been to do it, he had kept to his side of their bargain: even when he had had the perfect opportunity to kill two of his enemies. Not that he had been given much choice under the circumstances, with Scarlet's arrow aimed at his back.
Robin didn't think that Guy of Gisburne was the type of man to accept martyrdom when he could keep his own life intact. But Gisburne's morals did not concern him. Robin's concern was for the welfare of Wickham.
He made a quick assessment of those before him and began to deliver a similar speech to the one he had given previously. He explained to the villagers the need to fight for their grain and the grain belonging to Aldbury and Leaford. He told the villagers that the battle against oppression was something he and his friends could no longer fight alone. Then Robin asked the villagers who would join them. After a moment's indecision, and a strong reprimand from Edward, every man stepped forward to volunteer his services.
"Why don't we attack the wagons?" suggested Edward, as the outlaws and villagers began to discuss a plan.
"We couldn't on open country," argued Will.
"We'd have to get the grain before it left for Newark," said John.
"What? You mean steal it from Attlebury?"
"No!" cried Robin, remembering what he had promised. It couldn't be done that way again...
"Then how are we going to do it?" demanded Will impatiently.
"We must get the grain on its way to Newark...Draw their attention away from it somehow..."
"But how?" said Tuck. "They wouldn't leave the grain unguarded, unless they were ordered to by the King himself."
Suddenly, Robin's eyes widened and his expression harboured a satisfied smile.
"What is it, Robin?" asked John, who could read a hint of excitement in his friend's face.
"I think I have an idea," said Robin.
* * * *
"Do you really think this will work?" asked Marion, as she and her friends gathered at the bridge on Newark's road.
"You're the most comely lass I've ever seen," stated John sincerely.
"Too comely for the likes of King John!" grumbled Will.
"Just about any woman would be," said Robin, "but his soldiers won't know that. Marion, you have nothing to worry about. If you remember, King John was quite taken with you. You really captured his eye..."
"And a few other things we won't mention," muttered Scarlet.
"Will!" said Marion. She needed no reminders from either of them about King John. Her skin still crawled when she thought about him. She turned to Robin and made an attempt at a good-natured smile. "I don't have to be concerned about fooling the King this time. I have to fool his men and, in these clothes, I don't know if I can!"
Robin stole a quick glimpse at her and thought she looked as beautiful as ever, which did little to ease his mind. Robin had not approved of Marion's willingness to play the main part in his plan, though he knew how clever her idea had been.
He could understand why she might start having doubts about all of this, although her anxiety did not arise out of any fears for her own safety. She was only concerned that she might not be able to play her part convincingly and crush the hopes of her friends and the villagers of Wickham.
"They're coming," called Nasir from his post.
"If you don't want to do this, Marion..." began Robin.
"No," said Marion. "I must do it. I'll be fine. Really, Robin."
"All right, then, but if you need us at all--"
"I'll call out."
Robin took Marion's hand and squeezed it in encouragement. Then he kissed her quickly and took his place with the others in a ditch by the roadside.
Marion lifted her skirts and began to run towards William Brewer and the guards who made up a portion of King John's fighting men.
* * * *
William Brewer found himself in a surprisingly amiable mood as he accompanied King John's soldiers and the heavily guarded wagon full of His Majesty's newly acquired grain. It gave him a sense of pride and satisfaction to know that he had earned his sovereign's admiration and, hopefully, his gratitude, in no less than monetary terms. It seemed rather miraculous, he thought, considering the past record of incompetencies by that shifty little man, de Rainault, and his brainless lout of a steward, Guy of Gisburne.
He remembered the mixture of lies that had been woven by the two over the years, stories placing the blame for their failures squarely on the shoulders of that cutthroat, Robin Hood, and those other filthy vagabonds. Why, even a knight's daughter had been implicated in their excuses for corruption, as if one woman could possibly be capable of all the feats that were attributed to her.
He found the stories of the outlaws hard enough to fathom without the addition of some woman to further muddle up matters...or maybe she served to clear them up. Surely such tales could be proved false if a lady appeared as a character in them!
Brewer could not understand why the King even bothered listening to de Rainault, or why he allowed him to remain in his employ. Brewer almost wished that the Sheriff had lost the grain so that he might have the pleasure of removing his head and possibly the head of that thing de Rainault called his steward...!
"My lord," said the captain of the guard. "My lord, look!"
"What is it?" asked Brewer impatiently. He scanned the road in front of him and saw the figure of a woman hurrying towards them. "God's Throat," he cursed, as she arrived breathlessly before them.
"My lord!" gasped the lady. "My lord! You must come at once! The King is in danger!"
"The King? Woman, are you mad?" thundered Brewer.
"No, my lord. You must believe me! The King was travelling from Newark when he fell under attack! A large group of men surrounded us--"
"Impudent wench! Do you really expect me to believe that you were among those in his party?"
"Why, yes, my lord. I'm...I'm..."
"Yes?"
"One of his...diversions, my lord..."
There was a ripple of laughter among the men but, with a cold look from Brewer, it quickly ended.
"Tell me," said Brewer, "why would anyone dare to harm the King?"
"I don't know, my lord. The men were shouting about grain. They said King John...His Majesty...had stolen it from their villages and seized it from their children's mouths."
The soldiers started to look uneasy, and the captain of the guard cleared his throat.
"My lord, we must go to the King at once," said the captain.
"What? Are you telling me that you are prepared to believe the word of this harlot?" asked Brewer harshly.
"My lord, if you distrust me so, send two men to verify my story," the woman replied, with equal sharpness.
Brewer hesitated then reluctantly gave his consent. Two men broke from the line and took off down the road. It wasn't long before they returned, excited and out of breath.
"She's right, my lord!" exclaimed one. "There's a crowd of peasants blocking the road, shouting like you wouldn't believe!"
"We heard a man calling for help," added the other. "It must have been the King!"
"Well, don't just stand there, men," said the captain. "The King is in danger. We must go to his aid at once!" And before William Brewer could order them to desist, the soldiers were rushing off to save their sovereign, leaving Brewer alone with the grain. But he wasn't alone for long. He soon had ample company.
His company consisted of six men to be exact. And it was with an impending lurch of his stomach, that Brewer noted the longbows in their hands. The woman smiled as the leader of the group congratulated her for the fine work she had done. He placed an arm around her waist and gazed up at Brewer, armed with not only a sword but, what was worse in Brewer's eyes, an insolent grin as well.
"Good day, my lord," said Robin Hood. "We're sorry to have to delay your journey back to Newark, but I'm afraid you've taken something that doesn't belong to you."
"You filthy cutthroats! Do you dare oppose King John? What is all this about?"
"It's the grain King John plans to steal from the villages of Wickham, Aldbury and Leaford," answered Robin calmly. "We're here to get it back."
* * * *
"That was good work from all of you," said Robin, praising the villagers of Wickham. It had been the villagers who had staged the mock riot, convincing the soldiers that King John was in danger. By the time the guards had stormed down the road, the rioting villagers were gone...and so was the grain. However, although the incident had proved to be much to William Brewer's chagrin, it turned out to be much to the villagers' and the outlaws' delight. They could certainly be seen celebrating the fact as they conducted their prize deep into Sherwood's depths.
Robin's companions had suggested that they hide it in the cave in Sherwood, which was known to both the outlaws and the villagers, but Robin felt the need to hide it somewhere safer. He knew what the fate of the original grain shipment had been. Gulnar's men had set flames to it while it had been tucked away in Hob's Cave. This time, they would hide it better and it would be guarded carefully until Gulnar and his followers had been beaten and the power of Fenris had been destroyed once and for all. To do that, some things would have to be done very differently.
Robin wanted to remember the mistakes he had made and make amends, to change some of the circumstances that had driven the Wheel to turn in the first place. Men might die if he failed, and the bonds of friendship and love broken. Robin looked at Marion, catching her glance for an instant. Yes, he thought. Some things would have to turn out very differently.
He had a chance to keep Marion here, to help her release that part of the past that caused her so much pain, though he did not want her to forget the love she held for Loxley. Robin wished to show Marion that she could still find happiness in the future, that, if she wished it, he would be right there beside her to share in it all - if she would only conquer her fears and let him.
He couldn't rush her or force her into marriage if she wasn't ready for it. If he truly loved her, he would have to be willing to let her go in order to keep her. If the love that existed between them was true, it was only time that kept them apart. Time, which had always seemed to pass so quickly, was faltering. It seemed to move too slowly for Marion to heal. Robin knew that nothing was forgotten, but the passage of time could still provide one with the strength to acknowledge pain and face whatever demons plagued the past.
He loved her. Whether it took days, months, or years for them to be together no longer mattered. He would wait. As difficult as it was for him, he would wait. He would wait for the day when Marion could come to him and return his love without the remnants of the past acting as her barricade, the day when she could return his love with the deepest parts of herself, return his love completely.
Robin cast his eyes to Marion again, but, instead of meeting his look, she began to walk away. Robin abandoned his reverie abruptly and followed her. Even though he had been engrossed in thought, he had seen her watching their friends from Wickham. He could tell that she was upset about something.
"Marion," said Robin, trying to catch her attention. "Marion?" He was led out of the clearing and found himself almost breathless by the time he caught up with her. "Marion!"
Marion stopped as Robin touched her arm, but would say nothing for some time. Then, when she did speak, Robin was confronted by serious imploring eyes.
"Do you think it will ever end, Robin?" asked Marion. "Do you think the villagers will ever have to stop fighting for their grain, fighting for what is rightfully theirs? Do you think there will ever be a day when the people are free and we have no need to defend them?"
"Will there ever be a day when there is no spring. Or lovers? What about lovers?" Robin was trying to be light-hearted, but he could see that it wasn't having the desired effect.
"What about it, Robin?" said Marion, and Robin saw that she was very much in earnest. He frowned pensively, trying to provide her with a good answer. "What about freedom for the people?" she continued. "Will there always be injustice and tyranny? Can we ever end that?"
Robin sighed. "I don't know, but I believe that we each forge our own path. What is here now belongs to us: the trees, the forest, the land...It's ours, Marion. What I'm trying to say is that we have the power to end all of this one day. We control both the beginning and end of things. This place, this time, it belongs to us. Nothing that anyone ever says or does can change that. Can you understand that, Marion?"
Marion looked down and appeared to study the ground.
Had he said something wrong? Something she had found hurtful? Had he said too much...?
Marion's hand found its way into his and she kissed him. Robin met Marion's eyes in surprise.
Marion smiled and, with a graceful movement, tapped her foot on the ground. "Is this our path then?" she asked, and Robin saw that their feet were indeed resting on a worn patch of the forest floor that seemed to form the beginning of a path.
"Yes, Marion, I believe it is." Robin placed his arm around Marion and they looked at what lay before them.
The path they took might fork and split one day, and they might have to part, but today the path was smooth and appeared to stretch for miles and miles ahead of them.
* * * *
"De Rainault!" yelled a voice. "De Rainault!"
The Sheriff lifted his head nonchalantly, though he was rather peeved at the disturbance. Gisburne glanced up as well, his eyes leaving the figures he had been working on. He noticed, with dread, that it was William Brewer. He nervously pushed his work aside as Brewer walked up to the Sheriff's chair and fixed him with a scalding glare.
"I'm taking your head to the King, de Rainault!" announced Brewer.
No, not again, pleaded Gisburne silently to himself. He was almost on his feet to defend his lord when he remembered that this action on his part had almost resulted in his downfall the last time.
The knight fought the urge to protest and carefully ensured that he made no sound that even resembled speech. For once, Gisburne was unwilling to draw any attention to himself. Instead, he waited mutely for the Sheriff to make his first move apparent.
"My head?" asked de Rainault, who didn't sound alarmed. On the contrary, Gisburne could see that it was Brewer who was afraid.
"The grain shipment has been stolen by Robin Hood!" shouted Brewer.
"Stolen?" said the Sheriff.
"Yes!" hissed Brewer. "And, as it happened in the shire you are supposed to be administrating, you will be held accountable."
"I will be held accountable?"
"You should have dealt with Robin Hood and those cutthroats years ago. Instead, you have allowed them to seize control of this entire county!"
"Come, my lord," said the Sheriff, laughing lightly, "I think you are exaggerating a little."
"Exaggerating? Exaggerating when those wolfsheads attacked us on an open road!"
"You mean, he didn't attack the wagon while you travelled through Sherwood?"
"Of course not! Do you think I'm such a fool as to travel through there? How can anyone travel through Sherwood after what you've allowed it to become?"
The Sheriff stared at Brewer in mock confusion. "I apologize, my lord, but I don't quite understand. Are you telling me that Robin Hood was able to capture a wagon guarded by His Majesty's own men on open ground?"
Brewer didn't answer for a moment. He seemed only capable of fuming.
"We were tricked," he said at last. "It was a ruse. A woman came and told us that the King had been captured by a crowd of unruly peasants!" Marion, thought Gisburne, who suddenly found favour in her name.
"A woman told you this?" asked the Sheriff, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
"Yes," muttered Brewer, almost inaudibly.
"Pardon me, my lord?"
"Yes!" replied Brewer.
The Sheriff's eyebrows rose. "And you believed her?"
"I sent two men to verify her story. They returned, stating that it was true. The captain ordered his men to go there at once."
"Leaving the grain unattended?"
"They-they left to attend to His Majesty."
"Who wasn't actually in danger."
"Well--"
"And you let them?" said Gisburne, who found he could no longer hold speech back. The Sheriff eyed his steward in a seemingly appreciative manner before they both glared at Brewer in contempt.
"Look here, I'm not to blame for this!" shouted Brewer, who found he had to force himself to meet the accusing set of eyes.
"The grain was stolen while under your charge, my lord, and yet you still insist on blaming us?" cried the Sheriff, feigning astonishment.
"Of course I'm blaming you! The grain was your responsibility, de Rainault!"
"Yes, it was, but then it became your responsibility. Once the grain had been placed into your care, it was completely out of my hands."
"What?" shrieked Brewer.
"If I had thought that a convoy of the King's men would not be enough, I would have gladly provided you with a further escort made up of my own men..."
"Not that he could have commanded them any better," Gisburne dared to mutter.
"What did you say?" demanded Brewer.
"Gisburne was just marvelling at your audacity, Brewer," answered the Sheriff.
"My audacity?" snarled Brewer, enraged.
"You claim that this is our fault and, yet, it is your competency, or, rather, lack thereof, which is to blame," countered the Sheriff smoothly. "King John provides you with perfectly good men, and you are unable to command them properly. In fact, you seemed quite prepared to endanger their lives on account of the lies told to you by one woman!"
"How dare you?" roared Brewer.
"How dare I?" asked the Sheriff. "What you have done is committed treachery through the greatest degree of ineptitude I have ever had the misfortune to witness!" he shouted. And, at this point, Gisburne made sure to remain doubly silent. "You have made a mockery of the King's justice," continued the Sheriff. "If I were you, Brewer, I would throw myself on the King's mercy and beg for his forgiveness. He can be generous when the mood suits him. He might spare your head, though I wish to God he would remove your tongue!"
Gisburne stared at the Sheriff in amazement, then fought the impulse to laugh as Brewer turned ghastly pale. Guy couldn't tell if Brewer's reaction stemmed more from fear or anger. Whatever emotion it was, it prevented Brewer from uttering any kind of coherent speech for some time. When Brewer did manage to speak again, all three of them were aware of whom the victor was in this battle.
"I...I shall report this incident to the King!" said Brewer, managing to grind out these last words.
The Sheriff smiled, but it wasn't with kindness. "As I hope you shall," he responded sternly, "though I pray you will not waste His Majesty's precious time with this farce of yours as you have wasted mine. Good day, my lord."
Brewer shot both men one final attempt at a threatening scowl before he fled from the hall.
Once Brewer was gone, the Sheriff allowed himself a quiet chuckle.
"What if he does report this incident to the King, my lord?" asked Gisburne, who found he was too cautious to accept victory that easily.
"What if he does? It won't be my head in jeopardy, will it? The man's a fool. I bet that, even if he tried, he couldn't lie well enough to save his neck! Why, even you could make up a better story about all of this than he could, couldn't you, Gisburne?"
I can now, thought Guy, looking back at everything he had just gone through. Then, he realized with a start that that wolfshead had actually helped him. It was now Brewer's head that was in danger, not his own. Perhaps a little collaboration with the enemy wasn't so terrible after all...
"I wonder what other surprises we will encounter today," mused the Sheriff aloud, as if interpreting Gisburne's thoughts. "You don't have any surprises for me, do you, Gisburne?" he asked, looking his steward straight in the eyes.
"No, my lord. I don't believe so..." But he did. The herald soon stood before them, announcing their guest.
"Lady Margaret of Gisburne," said the herald.
"What?" gasped Gisburne. No, it couldn't be! His mother was dead. She had died at Croxden Abbey. They had told him she was dead!
The Sheriff saw the knight go pale. He watched Gisburne's face as a mixture of emotions churned within it.
Lady Margaret entered the hall, and Gisburne wasn't sure if he should be relieved or even more startled. The one thing he seemed sure about was his confusion. He was very, very confused.
Lady Margaret strode confidently towards Gisburne. When she reached him, her arms went around him and she kissed him on both cheeks.
"Greetings, brother," she said.
"Brother?" exclaimed the Sheriff, goggling at the two of them.
"Yes," replied Margaret, breaking away from Gisburne. "I'm his sister."
The Sheriff took in the fair flowing hair of the woman in front of him, judging the rather patched dress she wore critically.
"Margaret of Gisburne," added Margaret, making her own introduction. "You must be the Sheriff of Nottingham." She curtsied and took the Sheriff's hand, shaking it before the Sheriff could stop her.
Gisburne found he couldn't speak. He could only stare at Margaret increduously.
Why was this happening? How did she get here? What was she doing here...?
"I find it strange that Gisburne has never spoken about you," said the Sheriff, addressing Margaret directly.
"You mean Guy has never mentioned me?" asked Margaret, sounding rather hurt.
The Sheriff's sharp glance shot back to Gisburne. "No, he didn't."
"Didn't I?" said Gisburne feebly. He saw Margaret smile, and the Sheriff look even more infuriated. But Gisburne knew that he was much angrier than the Sheriff and fuming silently to himself didn't seem quite good enough for the occasion.
I'm going to kill that wolfshead for this, he thought, and took what little comfort he could in plotting his revenge.
