Robin returned to his senses slowly. He could hear voices. They had been distant and muted at first, but they were louder and clearer now. He blinked his eyes open, squinting at the bright glare of the setting sun.
“This is how it started with Gisburne,” he heard Tuck say.
John’s voice followed. “It’ll be fever next. Fever if he’s got the same thing as Gisburne.”
“Well, of course ’e ’as!”
Robin winced. There was no mistaking Will.
“Robin,” Marion said. Robin tilted his head back and found Marion looking down at him. That was when he realized his head was in her lap. He was about to sit up, when he felt Marion stroking the hair back from his forehead. After that Robin decided that it
would be best to remain where he was.
A laugh rumbled quietly from John’s chest when he saw that Robin was awake, but in no hurry to leave his place of rest. He nudged Tuck and gestured towards their leader. “I reckon that at least one of us is going to die happy, wouldn’t you say?”
Tuck’s lips twitched for a moment before he grew sober again. “This is serious, John. We’ve got to figure out what to do.”
John sighed and nodded. “Aye, I know.” He gaze travelled from Robin to Gisburne. The knight was now firmly in the grip of his fever. His pale face was bathed in sweat and his head was twisting from side to side. John knelt down beside the knight and ran a cloth over the fevered brow. Gisburne muttered something, and John just managed to catch the word.
“What’d ’e say?” Will demanded. He strode quickly across the camp to stand beside Gisburne’s supine form.
John glanced at Will with a confused expression. “He said…” John paused, stared at Gisburne, and shook his head. “He said ‘pigs’.”
“‘Pigs’?” Will asked in disbelief. “‘Pigs’?”
“Will – ” Tuck began.
“That ungrateful bastard!” Will spat. “We try to ’elp ’im and ’e insults us!” His hands clenched into fists and he glared at Gisburne.
“He’s delirious, Will. He doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Marion said patiently.
“Maybe he’s hungry,” Much suggested.
“Hungry?” Will cried.
Tuck grinned. “You know, pigs-pork.”
Will scowled and took a step towards Tuck. The monk gulped and backed away.
Robin struggled to rise from the ground. “Will,” he said.
Scarlet whirled around. “This is your fault! You brought this on yourself!” he yelled, pointing a stubby finger at Robin. “This never would ’ave ’appened if you ’ad killed Gisburne!” Will kicked a stone angrily. “And now whatever ’e’s got is spreading! You’ve got it and you’re going to die! We’re all going to die!”
“Will!” Marion said sharply.
Robin managed to sit up. He was about to speak when he head a faint rustle just beyond the camp. He glanced quickly at his friends and was alarmed to discover that no one was missing.
“Uh…who’s on watch?” he asked. His friends exchanged startled glances and immediately drew their weapons. Robin raised a hand to indicate that they should remain quiet and still. Scarlet shook his head and bit back a curse, but obeyed his leader all the same.
A twig snapped loudly, and everyone in the camp tensed. Then a face was peering anxiously at the outlaws from behind a tree. Robin recognized the man at once: he was one of this father’s messengers.
“You can come out, Godfrey,” Robin said. “No one will harm you.”
“You know this man?” Tuck asked. He was gripping his quarterstaff tightly in his hands.
“This is Godfrey,” Robin explained. “He works for my father.”
The young man had emerged cautiously from his hiding place and was walking towards them. Godfrey smiled when he saw Robin, looking visibly relieved. He was just as Robin remembered him, with his freckled skin and large hazel eyes. His dark hair fell just above chin level, a style that seemed to be in favour at the moment.
“My lord, I was afraid I’d never find you!” Godfrey said.
“How did you find me?” Robin asked. He was amazed that Godfrey had had enough courage to travel through Sherwood alone. He never would have thought that Godfrey would be able to track down their camp. There were few men who could.
“It wasn’t easy, my lord. At least, not at first.” Godfrey crouched down in front of the outlaw. He had noticed that Robin wasn’t standing and wasn’t accustomed to looking down at a nobleman when he was addressing him. “I was lost, my lord,” Godfrey admitted. “Hopelessly lost. I was forced to leave my horse behind and travel on foot. That was when I heard a voice.”
“A voice?” Robin said in amusement.
“Yes, my lord. It was a loud voice. I could hear it shouting. It led me here.”
Robin’s gaze drifted to Scarlet. Will squirmed uneasily and stared down at his feet. When Robin looked back at Godfrey, he saw the messenger lick his lips nervously.
“What is it?” Robin asked.
Now Godfrey bit his bottom lip and looked as uncomfortable as Will. “My lord, although I am truly happy to see you again, I wish I could have postponed our meeting until I could deliver better tidings.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I have not failed to notice that you are unwell, which makes this task all the more difficult.”
There was a sickening tremor in Robin’s stomach that had nothing to do with his illness. “What’s happened, Godfrey? Is it my father?”
Godfrey nodded but it was a long time before he could speak again. It was almost as if he were unable to find the words or the will to impart the news. Then he cleared his throat and managed to finish the task.
“My lord,” he said hoarsely. “Your father is gravely ill. He had grown weak and was suffering from a fever when I left Huntingdon. The physicians could find no cause for the earl’s illness. They…they seem to fear the worst.”
“What?” Robin gasped. He immediately struggled to his feet, despite Marion’s protests. Godfrey stood as well, grasping Robin’s arm when the outlaw’s quivering legs threatened to give out.
“I must go to my father at once,” Robin said.
“Robin, you’re in no condition to travel,” Marion cried. She leapt up and placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder.
“She’s right, lad,” John said. “You can’t help your father if you’re sick yourself.”
“You can’t help your father if you don’t know what you’re facing,” Tuck added.
Robin rubbed his face wearily. “You think my father has the same illness?”
Tuck shrugged. “What are the chances that you and your father should fall ill at the same time when you’re both so many miles apart? Then there’s Gisburne…” Tuck clamped his mouth shut, realizing, too late, that he had said too much.
“What about Gisburne?” Will demanded.
Robin glared at Tuck, who blushed and looked away.
“Gisburne?” Godfrey asked in confusion.
Will jerked his head at the knight, who had gone unnoticed by the messenger until now. Robin stumbled slightly as Godfrey suddenly released his arm and walked towards Gisburne.
“I know this man,” Godfrey said, staring down at the knight.
Robin was surprised that Godfrey knew Gisburne, or that he would, in fact, be able to recognize him in his current condition. The knight was still delirious and thrashing weakly. His face was chalky and covered in sweat. It was so pale that his blond hair almost appeared dark in comparison.
“I know this man,” Godfrey repeated. “He arrested your father.”
“So ’e’s arrested me before and you don’t hear me moaning about it,” Will said.
Godfrey ignored Will, his gaze fixed on Robin. “I thought Gisburne was your enemy. Why are you helping him?”
Robin closed his eyes for an instant as he was hit by a brief wave of dizziness. Marion wrapped an arm around his waist, and John moved quickly towards them.
“I’m all right,” Robin said, though he allowed Marion and John to lower him to the ground. Marion laid a hand on Robin’s forehead and frowned.
“I can’t believe it,” Godfrey said. “How is this possible?” He turned to Tuck. “The earl and his son have had no contact with each other. How can they both be suffering from the same illness?”
Tuck shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
“As do I,” Godfrey said with a sigh. His eyes flicked back to Robin. “My lord, I’m very sorry. I wish I knew how to help you. However, I fear that I can do nothing. It would be best if I returned to Huntingdon. They may need me back at the castle. Your father…” Godfrey trailed off, staring pensively at the ground.
“You’ve just had a long journey, and it will soon be nightfall,” Tuck said. “You should stay with us for the night and rest.”
“You are most kind, brother, but my place right now should be back at Huntingdon.”
Robin shifted position. “If you really wish to serve my father, you’d stay,” he said. “If we find a cure for this illness, I may need you to deliver it to him.”
“A cure?” Godfrey raised his eyebrows. “Forgive me, my lord, but I don’t see any physicians.”
Robin looked at Marion and smiled sadly. “I don’t think any physician will have the cure.”
* * * *
There were times when Tuck almost regretted his calling. This was certainly one of those times.
Surely the years he had spent in his abbey’s library and scriborium should have equipped him with some knowledge, but he had no answers to give. He couldn’t even give his friends spiritual guidance because he was lost himself. He knew they wouldn’t have accepted his words of solace. He had already made a half-hearted attempt to comfort Marion, but she had been too absorbed in her own misery to listen.
Robin was now delirious. He had been hit by fever, and, even though night had fallen, Tuck could still see the ghastly pale cast of Robin’s face in the firelight. Despite Marion’s best efforts to brush Robin’s hair off his forehead, long flaxen tendrils still clung to his cheeks and neck. When he had started to shiver, John had covered him in blankets, only to have his friend throw them off when his body burned again.
Although Tuck hated to see Robin suffer, he feared the alternative more. Gisburne had slipped into unconsciousness and was drifting closer to death with every hour. He was too still to be merely sleeping. With his grey, haggard complexion, the knight resembled a corpse more than a living breathing man. If they didn’t find a cure soon, Robin would reach this stage as well.
Tuck gazed about him helplessly, as if hoping the solution might lie somewhere in the camp. Marion sat diligently at Robin’s side, pressing a cloth to his fevered brow. Much and Nasir were sitting by the fire, staring into the flames glumly. John was leaning heavily on his staff, and Godfrey was hunched against the same tree they had bound Gisburne to earlier. Will was the only one who couldn’t keep still. He was pacing continuously, striding from one end of the camp to the other. When he caught Tuck watching him, he stopped pacing.
“’Ave you thought of anything yet?” he snapped.
Tuck lowered his eyes. “No, I’m sorry, Will.”
Scarlet muttered a curse and resumed his restless pacing.
“We should go to Herne,” John said. “He’d know what to do.”
Will crossed his arms but kept moving. “What good will ’e do? ’E’s been useless so far.”
“Maybe Herne doesn’t know Robin’s sick,” Much said from his place by the fire.
Will laughed quietly, shaking his head. “’Erne sees things before they ’appen. ’E knows Robin’s sick.”
“Then why doesn’t he do something?” John asked, the frustration evident in his voice.
“Maybe ’e doesn’t want to ’elp. Maybe ’e wants Robin to die,” Will said.
Marion looked up sharply, her cheeks flushing. “How can you say that?” she cried angrily.
Will’s eyes flashed. “You of all people should know that, Marion. ’E left your ’usband to die, didn’t ’e?”
A shocked silence descended on the camp. Then Marion was on her feet.
“That isn’t what happened and you know it, Will!” she shouted.
Tuck walked over to Marion and placed a hand on her back. He could feel her trembling and couldn’t tell if she shook from rage, fear, or a mixture of both emotions. He glared at Scarlet.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Will Scathlock,” Tuck said, managing to keep his voice calm in spite of his own anger. “Why would Herne want his son – sons – to die? He’s saved all of our lives at one point or another.” Tuck cast a quick glance at his leader. “When Robin – this Robin – was shot in the leg by that poisoned arrow, Herne came to the camp to cure him.”
“Then where is ’e now?” Will exclaimed. “If ’e’s planning to cure ’im then why ’asn’t ’e come? Why won’t ’e ’elp us?”
Marion slipped out from underneath Tuck’s arm and stood directly in front of Scarlet. “He has helped us, Will.”
“What?” Will stared at Marion blankly.
“He guided us through Marion’s vision,” Tuck explained.
Will’s eyes narrowed. “You mean that dream of yours?” he asked Marion. “The one with the witch, the curse, and the ‘murderer’s blood’? What good is that supposed to do?”
“Maybe that’s what we’re meant to find out,” John said.
“Yeah? Well, you’re welcome to it,” Will grumbled. “All it’s given me so far is an ’eadache.” Shaking his head, Will walked around Marion and flung himself before the fire.
What did the dream mean? Tuck had been pondering that very question since Marion had first told them about it, and its significance continued to elude him. His mind kept returning to the murderer’s blood.
He knew that Robin, the earl and Gisburne all shared the same blood, but who was the murderer? Was it Gisburne? He did seem like the most likely suspect. He had killed before and not just in battle. Had Gisburne killed someone close to this woman? If she wanted revenge on Gisburne then why was she causing Robin and his father to suffer as well? Did she hate Gisburne so much that she wished to kill everyone who shared the same blood?
“Robin, hush. You need to rest.”
Tuck looked at Marion. She was kneeling beside Robin, trying to soothe him. Robin had grown agitated. His arms were flailing and he was muttering in his delirium. As Marion mopped his brow yet again, she bent forward to try to hear what he was saying. That was when her eyes widened and she froze.
“What is it, lass?” John asked. He dropped his staff and went to her at once. However, even when the remaining outlaws had gathered around her, Marion’s eyes stayed on Robin.
“He said the same thing as Gisburne,” Marion stated, sounding stunned.
“What do you mean?” Tuck said, sitting down beside her.
She turned her head towards Tuck slowly. “He said the word ‘pigs’.”
“What?”
Will couldn’t help grinning. “Normans,” he said.
“It isn’t funny, Will,” Marion snapped. “It must mean something if they both said it.”
“Yeah, it means they both like pork,” Will joked.
“Or it could be a clue to their illness and who might have caused it,” Tuck said, regarding Will with a serious frown.
“So you still believe they were cursed,” Will said, rolling his eyes.
Tuck didn’t even blink. “Yes, I do believe that,” he answered.
“But what could pigs have to do with it?” Much asked.
John laid a hand on Much’s head. “That’s what we’ve got to figure out, lad.” He looked at Tuck to receive confirmation, and the monk nodded.
“Maybe they both ate pork that was poisoned,” Much said after taking a moment to consider the problem.
Tuck smiled despite the gravity of the situation. “No, Much. Robin hasn’t eaten any pork for a long time. And for Gisburne to have become ill, he would have had to share a meal with Robin and his father.”
“And we all know that hasn’t happened,” John muttered.
“Exactly,” Tuck said.
Will groaned. “This is worse than chasing that mad woman’s pigs – and ’er pigs were real, not a load of ’ogwash.”
John laughed at Will’s pun. “Hogwash!” he said. “I like that!”
Will bowed his head graciously at John. Then he looked at the rest of his friends to see if they had appreciated the joke. Much and Nasir were smiling, but Marion and Tuck were both staring at him with open mouths.
“What?” Will asked nervously.
Marion and Tuck broke out of their trances, though they still seemed dazed. Marion leaned towards the monk, and Will was surprised to see an excited gleam in her eyes.
“Do you think it could be her, Tuck?” she said. “Mad Mab?”
“Well, she was accused of witchcraft,” Tuck said.
“But the charges were false. Robin’s uncle made them up.”
Tuck tilted his head thoughtfully. “The charges may have been false, but what if Edgar was right about the rest of it and Mab really was – is – a witch?”
“You think Mad Mab did it?” Will blurted out. “If you believe that, you’re madder than she is!”
“It would explain the pigs,” Tuck said, as if he hadn’t heard Will’s outburst.
“And the state of the woman’s hands,” Marion added.
“But Mab’s mad!” Will exclaimed.
“Maybe that’s why she did it,” Tuck argued. “Can you think of any other reason why she would do such a thing?”
“If she did it,” Will said, sounding skeptical. “I’m still not sure if Robin was cursed in the first place.”
“Do you have any better ideas?” John asked.
Will opened his mouth, paused, closed it again, and shook his head.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” John said. “Let’s go.” He looked at Marion, expecting her to rise to her feet immediately, but she didn’t move. “Marion?”
“What if Will’s right and it isn’t Mab?” Marion fixed her gaze on Robin, and her fingers curled around his limp hand. “What if my dream doesn’t mean anything?”
John and Tuck glared at Will. He shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Will,” Tuck said sternly.
Scarlet nodded and knelt down in front of the young woman. “Look, what do I know?” he said to Marion. “You and Tuck are the ones with all the brains.” He smiled, hoping to provoke a similar reaction in Marion. “Come on, finding Mab is better than sitting around ’ere on our bums, isn’t it?”
Marion bit her lip, clearly torn. “I should stay with Robin.”
“I’ll stay with him,” Tuck said. “You’ll do more good if you go find Mab.”
“But what if it isn’t Mab?” Marion asked. “We’ll be wasting time.”
“Lass, you can do nought for him here,” John said. He bent over and picked up his staff. “Besides, we have nothing else to go on.”
Will stood and held out his hand. “Come on, Marion.”
Marion hesitated for a moment then reached out and took it, allowing Will to pull her from the ground.
* * * *
It had still been night when they had passed through a slumbering Wickham, but now the sun was beginning its ascent. Its gold and crimson light was visible through the trees, as they crept along the path to Mad Mab’s hovel.
Mab’s dwelling hadn’t changed since the last time they had seen it. It still had its wattle and daub walls and, of course, the pigpen. However, in the faint light of dawn, the hovel almost seemed sinister. It was eerily silent and not even the grunts and squeals of pigs could be heard.
The outlaws approached the doorway cautiously, prepared to either draw back or draw their weapons at the first sign of danger. But the darkened hut appeared to be empty.
“Mab,” Marion called. There was no answer. Only the faint smell of smoke from a dying fire indicated that Mab had been there recently.
“Maybe she slipped outside,” Much said. He had walked across the hut and was looking through a hole in the back wall. “There are some bushes out here. She could be hiding.” Much squeezed through the hole before anyone could stop him and went to search the bushes.
“Much!” Marion cried. Nasir instantly went through the hole after Much, and the rest of the group rushed out the door. Fortunately, when Marion reached the back of the hut with Will and John, she found Much and Nasir standing calmly by the bushes, completely unharmed. Marion sighed in relief. “Much.”
“She isn’t hiding,” Much announced cheerfully. “She mustn’t be here.”
Marion forced a smile. “You could be right.” She turned to look at the sun rising steadily behind them. “Nasir, is there enough light to track her?”
Nasir squinted first at the sun and then the ground. “I think so,” he said. Then he disappeared to the front of the hut to put his woodcraft to good use. The others walked over to the pigpen and gazed down at the swine. All of the pigs were sleeping except for the largest one, Ethel, who had started rooting around the pen restlessly, as if impatient for her breakfast.
“Mab must be coming back,” John said. “She wouldn’t leave her pigs.”
Will snorted. “Where else would she go? It’s not as if anybody else would ’ave ’er. The smell alone would drive most people away.”
“Will – ” Marion began, preparing to defend Mab despite their suspicions about her.
“Where’s Rutterkin?” Much asked, interrupting. His friends quickly scanned the pen, noticing for the first time that the little black pig was missing.
“He’s right,” John said. “Rutterkin’s gone.
Will shrugged and scratched his head. “’E must ’ave run off. Can’t say I blame ’im. I wouldn’t want to live with a mad woman, especially if she were a witch!”
“I don’t know,” John said. “I reckon she knows how to take care of her pigs well enough.” He looked inside the pen for a moment then frowned. “Well, except for that one in the far corner. The little bugger looks miserable.”
Will craned his neck and located the pig in question. It was thinner than the other animals and instead of sleeping it just lay there despondently, its dull eyes staring at nothing.
“I’ve seen sheep look like that when they’ve been dying,” John said.
“Do you think its sick?” Much asked anxiously.
“Sick or in pain,” John answered.
“Could you cure it?”
“What?” John’s head swung around sharply. “Much, I was a shepherd, not a swineherd.”
“You cured that one sheep in Hathersage,” Much argued. “The one that hurt its leg.”
John closed his eyes and groaned. “Much, it had a pebble lodged in one of its hooves. All I did was pull it out.”
Much’s brows drew together. “But that’s what I said. That you’d cured it.”
Will grinned and patted Much on the back. “That’s right. John cured it.” The former shepherd shot Will a dirty look, but Will only laughed. Then his attention shifted when he saw Nasir walking towards them. “What did you find, Naz?” he asked.
“There are tracks leading into the forest,” Nasir said. “It looks like those of a woman and…” Nasir flicked his eyes at the pigpen in disgust.
“Then Rutterkin did escape,” John said.
“Rutterkin’s missing,” Marion explained when she saw the confused expression on Nasir’s face. “Mab must have gone after him.”
“Which means she could come back at any time if she’s found ’im,” Will said.
Marion nodded. “I’m going to look around Mab’s hut before she returns. John, you should see if you can do anything for Cedric.”
John stared at Marion blankly. “Cedric?”
“It’s the name of the sick pig. I think we should try to help him if we can.”
“But, Marion – ”
“Just take a look at him,” Marion said. “You’ve handled pigs before. You won’t hurt him.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about,” John grumbled. But Marion was already heading for Mab’s hut.
As it was now daylight, Marion could see the contents of the hut properly. When she stepped through the door, her eyes latched onto an iron cooking pot. In her dreams it had been a full-sized cauldron, but Marion could see nothing else in the hovel that resembled such an object. If Mab wasn’t the culprit then who was?
Marion was about to turn back to the door, when more sunlight streamed into the hut and fell on the pot. A strand of fiber clinging to its brim caught her eye. Marion grabbed the pot at once and reached inside. When her fingers closed around the first lumpy knot, the pot fell from her hands and crashed to the ground.
She stared at the rope in disbelief. It was the same rope from her vision. She touched one of the knots and an image flashed in her mind. She saw the grimy hands clutching the rope. Then the woman’s voice was inside her head.
I curse those tainted with the murderer’s blood,
A poison that flows like a river in flood.
May sickness and fever take flight,
And the knots that bind beget darkness, not light.
Eyes still fastened on the rope, Marion tried to decipher the meaning of the words and any clues they might provide. She was concentrating so intensely, that she didn’t know she had company until a hand landed on her shoulder. Marion jumped and spun around.
A woman with filthy matted hair and layers of tattered rags had emerged through the hole in the back of the hut. Mab.
Marion jumped again when she felt something brush against her skirts. A black pig rushed past her and out the front door. Marion expected Mab to go after Rutterkin, but she remained rooted to the spot.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Mab said.
* * * *
Mab’s hands were on her hips and she wasn’t about to back down. That was fine with Marion. If Mab was looking for a fight, she’d give her one. She lifted the rope and dangled it in front of Mab. “Why did you do it?” Marion asked.
Mab’s eyes widened. “Where did you get that?” She tried to grab the rope, but Marion pulled it out of reach. “It’s mine!” Mab cried. “Give it back!”
“Why did you do it?” Marion repeated.
Mab tried to snatch the rope again, but Marion kept it hidden behind her back. For an instant, Mab’s eyes were full of rage, and Marion nearly stepped back in fear. Then the anger faded, and Mab’s eyes reflected sorrow instead. Marion nearly returned the rope, wishing to ease Mab’s pain, but then she remembered that Robin was suffering more and she toughened her resolve.
“Tell me, Mab,” she said coldly.
Mab crossed her arms and glared sullenly at the opposite wall of the hut. She started muttering quietly to herself, and Marion had to listen closely to catch the words.
“He did it,” Mab whispered. “I know he did it. The one who took Rutterkin, the one who killed my husband. He’s made Cedric sick. He wants all my babies to die.”
Marion gasped and instinctively reached out to touch Mab’s arm. “He killed your husband?”
Mab didn’t answer – just continued to stare at the wall.
“I don’t know why Cedric’s sick, but Edgar couldn’t have caused it,” Marion said gently. “Edgar is dead.”
Mab shook her head. “He isn’t dead. Not while they live.”
“They…?”
“The ones with the murderer’s blood,” Mab stated solemnly.
I curse those tainted with the murderer’s blood,
A poison that flows like a river in flood.
Marion’s fingers curled tightly around the rope. Robin had been cursed for sins his uncle had committed. Both he and his father were suffering simply because they shared the same blood as Edgar.
“No, wait,” Marion said. “That can’t be right. Gisburne’s sick too.” She was about to question Mab on that point when a high-pitched squeal erupted from outside the hut.
“Cedric!” Mab cried. She pushed past Marion and bolted out the door. Threading the rope through her belt, Marion followed closely on Mab’s heels, fearing what the woman might do to her friends. However, when Marion reached the pigpen, it was all she could do to stop herself from laughing.
Will and Much, plastered in mud from head to toe, were trying to hold down a struggling Cedric. They had managed to pin the pig on its side, but literally had to sprawl across the animal to prevent it from escaping. Meanwhile, a grimacing Nasir was straddling Cedric’s neck and had grabbed the pig by the snout. John was spread out on his stomach, facing Cedric. He was holding some string in his hand and was obviously determined to get inside the pig’s mouth.
“Stop it!” Mab shouted. “Leave him be!”
“It’s all right, Mab. They’re just trying to help Cedric,” Marion said, trying to stifle her giggles. Unfortunately, Mab couldn’t see the humour in the situation. Before Marion realized what was happening, Mab had pulled out a scrying glass from somewhere on her ragged person. With a look of pure loathing, she raised the glass and focused intently, only to have Marion seize it from her hands.
Howling in protest, Mab flew at Marion, knocking the younger woman to the ground. However, before Mab could take back her prize, Marion flung the crystal as far as she could, sending it into some bushes. Mab shrieked, but instead of attacking Marion, she charged towards the pigpen.
Nasir had finally managed to pry open Cedric’s jaws, and John was sticking a hand inside the pig’s mouth. Cedric continued to struggle furiously against his captors, his enraged squeals a testament to his outrage. But Cedric’s emotional turmoil paled in comparison to that of his mistress.
When Mab hurled herself at John, the outlaw felt as if he had been struck by the Furies themselves. The air was knocked out of him as he was slammed into the ground. He was still wheezing when Mab tried to claw at his face. However, his friends were quick enough to rescue him and keep the woman at bay. Between the three of them, Will, Nasir and Much were able to subdue Mab. John was just sitting up when Marion knelt by his side.
“Are you all right?” Marion asked.
Gasping for breath, John nodded. Marion studied him skeptically, but held her tongue. She was about to assist John to his feet, when she spotted something embedded in the mud. Curious, she plucked it from the ground. It was the same piece of string John had been holding earlier, but there was now a small pointed object attached to one end.
“By Saint Thomas,” John said hoarsely. “It worked.”
* * * *
The outlaws stood outside the pigpen watching Cedric eagerly consume his breakfast. Mab had settled down in the mud with her pig, crooning softly to him and scratching his ears. Marion smiled at the sight. She was glad to see that Cedric had recovered from his ailment. Marion had discovered the truth when she had taken a closer look at the object she had found in the pigpen. However, she didn’t have the heart to tell Much when he started to share the story with her.
“John reckoned that Cedric had a toothache and that he looked sick because he hadn’t been eating, so John pulled the tooth out,” Much said, gesturing towards Cedric excitedly.
“It had begun to rot,” John added. “I had found some string and thought I could tie it around the tooth and pull it out.” John shook his head ruefully. “I had just looped the string around the tooth when Mab attacked me.”
Much grinned. “And that’s when the tooth came out.”
Marion’s lips twitched. “I see. Well, Cedric seems to be much better now.”
“Yeah, but is ’e going to stay that way?” Will said.
Marion glanced at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
Will glared at the woman sitting in the pigpen. “Did she curse Robin? ’Cause if she did, that pig’s bacon.”
Marion crossed her arms and raised her chin. “Leave Mab and Cedric alone, Will.”
“Did she do it?” Will demanded.
“Yes, she did it, but she had her reasons.”
“’Er reasons!” Will shouted. “She wanted to kill Robin!”
“She was confused and frightened, Will. Cedric was sick and she thought he could die.”
“Why are you defending ’er? Do you want Robin dead?”
Marion didn’t flinch despite the sting of Scarlet’s words. “Robin’s uncle killed Mab’s husband.”
“What?” Will gasped. His anger was momentarily forgotten. The other outlaws seemed equally stunned by the news.
“Are you sure?” Will asked. “I mean, she’s mad. ’Ow do you know she’s not making it up?”
“She isn’t making it up, Will. I’ve lost a husband too. I could see that she wasn’t lying.”
Will fell silent, crossing his arms over his chest. Marion knew that Will understood. He had lost his wife, Elana, and he was still haunted by her death.
“I told Mab that Edgar’s dead and that he couldn’t hurt her or her pigs,” Marion said, “but she said it didn’t matter because those with the ‘murderer’s blood’ still live.” Marion paused for a moment, studying her hands. “She cursed Robin because she hated and feared his uncle. When she thought Cedric was sick, she decided to attack her enemy or, at least, those who shared his blood.”
Will’s hands curled into fists. “If Robin’s bleedin’ uncle wasn’t dead, I’d kill ’im,” he growled.
“Well, he is dead,” Marion said, “and he doesn’t matter – not anymore. What does matter is breaking this spell.”
“How do you reckon we do that?” John asked.
Pulling the rope free from her belt, Marion looked hard at the series of knots Mab had tied along its length. Then the final two lines of the riddle flooded into her head.
May sickness and fever take flight,
And the knots that bind beget darkness, not light.
Marion’s eyes widened. Could that truly be the answer? Could it possibly be that simple?
“Marion, what is it?” Will asked, sounding concerned.
And the knots that bind beget darkness, not light.
Marion raised her eyes from the rope and smiled. “I think I’ve found the cure.”
* * * *
They had been in good spirits for most of the journey, but as they drew close to the camp the outlaws began to grow anxious about what they would find when they reached it. And, so, when Tuck rose quickly from the fire, they didn’t know what to think. Then they saw Tuck’s smile and the excited glint in his eyes and knew that all was well.
“I don’t know how you did it,” Tuck said, clasping Marion’s hands, “but Robin’s fever is gone. I think he’s going to recover.”
Marion planted a kiss on Tuck’s cheek and moved to Robin’s side. Blushing, Tuck watched as Marion rested a palm against Robin’s forehead and her shoulders slumped in relief. Robin was sleeping peacefully.
Tuck turned to face his other friends. “How did you do it?” he asked. He was surprised when John produced a length of rope and placed it in his hands. “I don’t understand,” Tuck said. “How could this have helped you?” Then his eyes grew large with fear. “You…you didn’t hurt Mab, did you?”
John laughed and slapped Tuck on the back, almost knocking him off his feet. “No, lad, we didn’t kill her,” John said in amusement. “Marion just broke the spell.”
“She used the rope to break the spell?”
“No, the rope was the spell.”
“What?” The baffled monk looked beseechingly at Marion, who was rolling her eyes at John.
“Mab used it when she cast her spell,” Marion said. “The magic was bound by the knots she tied in the rope. When I untied the knots, the spell was broken.”
“By heaven,” Tuck gasped in amazement. “I can’t believe it. All this trouble over some knots in a rope.”
John cocked an eyebrow at him. “What were you expecting? Fire and brimstone?”
“Well, given some of our adventures in the past, I really didn’t know what to expect,” Tuck replied good-naturedly. Then he frowned when he heard a startled cry from the fire. “Will, what are you doing?”
Scarlet had grabbed Godfrey by the front of his tunic and was pulling him to his feet. “What’s ’e still doing ’ere? Shouldn’t ’e be ’eading back to ’Untingdon if the earl’s better now?”
Godfrey pulled away from Will and glared at him scornfully. “I have no proof that the earl is better or that his son has, in fact, recovered – even if his fever has broken.” Godfrey directed his gaze at the knight lying a few feet away from him. “This man, Gisburne, hasn’t improved at all.”
“Really?” Will said. He crossed over to Gisburne at once and, crouching down, he stared at his enemy. He apparently liked what he saw because he broke into a huge grin. Then he rose from his haunches and threw his arms around Godfrey. “Gisburne’s going to die!” he cried joyfully. Godfrey tensed and struggled to free himself from Will, but the outlaw had begun to dance him around the fire.
“Will, you don’t know that,” Tuck scolded. “Gisburne became sick before Robin, and his illness spread further. He may require more time to recover.”
Will released Godfrey and plopped down before the fire breathlessly. “Whose side are you on, Tuck?” he demanded. “You should be ’appy ’e’s going to die. ’E deserves it.”
Tuck walked over to the fire and sat across from Will. “No one deserves to die,” he said. “If Gisburne does die, it will be through God’s will, not yours.”
Will tossed another glance at Gisburne and snorted. “Well, God obviously does want Gisburne to die since ’e got sick when ’e wasn’t even cursed.”
Tuck’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the spell,” Marion said with a sigh. Then she began to explain everything she had learned when she had confronted Mab. “Because Mab put a curse on ‘those tainted with the murderer’s blood,’ Gisburne must have fallen ill for another reason.”
“Unless ’e really is related to Robin,” Will said. The comment was made in jest, but Tuck took it seriously all the same. He knew what the implications would be if the truth was revealed.
Tuck picked up a stick and poked the fire. “What if the spell doesn’t mean what we think it means? What if instead of cursing those who shared Edgar’s blood, Mab was cursing those who had been blighted by his misdeeds?”
Will frowned in confusion. “‘Blighted by his misdeeds’?”
Tuck regarded his friend calmly. “Mab cursed those ‘tainted by the murderer’s blood’. While Robin and his father do share Edgar’s blood, it’s the shame of his actions they’ve got to live with.”
Will leaned forward curiously. “And Gisburne? ’Ow does ’e fit in?”
“Gisburne was in Nottingham when Edgar accused his brother of treason. In fact, it was Gisburne who arrested the earl and brought him to the castle.”
“And it was the king who ordered Gisburne to do it,” John added. “Do you think he became sick too?”
“Well…it’s certainly a possibility,” Tuck said. As King John was a renowned hypochondriac, it seemed a safe enough assumption. Tuck just hoped that his friends wouldn’t try to track down anyone else who may have had a connection to Edgar.
“It sounds like a lot of rubbish to me,” Will grumbled.
John grinned. “The only reason you don’t like the idea is because it means Gisburne could get better.”
Will scowled but made no attempt to deny the accusation. Tuck glanced from Robin to Gisburne and began to breathe freely again.
* * * *
Two days later, Robin was walking across the camp with Nasir and his father’s messenger. Godfrey was returning to Huntingdon, and Nasir had agreed to escort him to the castle.
“Safe journey to you, Godfrey,” Robin said. “Please give my regards to my father when you see him.”
“I will do so gladly, my lord, assuming that your father is in any condition to receive them,” Godfrey answered. He cast his eyes on the knight lying by the fire.”
“Marion says he’s only sleeping and that he should wake up any time now.”
“Well, I hope the same thing can be said for you father, my lord,” Godfrey said, keeping his eyes on the knight.
Robin clapped Godfrey on the back. “I hope so too, Godfrey, but if my father hasn’t recovered…”
“I’ll return to Sherwood at once,” Godfrey said.
Robin smiled. “Look after him, Nasir,” he told the Saracen.
Nasir nodded. “I will.” He looked pointedly at the blankets that made up Robin’s bed. “You should rest.”
Robin pouted. “Yes, all right.” He moved over to the fire and sat down with a dramatic sigh. Nasir raised an amused eyebrow, but said nothing further. Godfrey waved at Robin and bid him farewell. Robin watched them both leave the camp then looked around cautiously. Tuck looked up from his preparations for supper and shook his head. Robin sighed again and decided to follow Nasir’s advice.
Robin and Tuck were now the only outlaws in the camp. John, Will and Much had gone hunting, and Marion had gone for a walk by the stream. Although Robin didn’t want to admit it, he knew that Marion was collecting memories of Sherwood to take back to the priory.
Robin turned his gaze back to the fire and was lost in thought for some time before he realized that someone was watching him. Snapping his head around, he found himself looking into the bleary eyes of his enemy.
“Well, we were wondering when you might wake up,” Robin stated cheerfully.
Gisburne stared at his enemy for a moment. Then he tried to rise. He almost managed to prop himself up on one elbow before he flopped back down in defeat.
“You’ve been sick,” Robin said. “Close to death.”
Gisburne opened his eyes cautiously. “Was I wounded?” he whispered.
“No, it was an illness.”
“An illness?” Gisburne gasped. “But I was fine when I left Nottingham.” He started coughing, and Tuck quickly approached with a cup of water. Kneeling down beside the knight, he lifted Gisburne’s head and put the cup to his lips. Gisburne drank from it thirstily.
“Easy,” Tuck said when it looked as if Gisburne might drain the entire cup. Considering how long Gisburne had been unconscious, Robin couldn’t blame him for trying to quench his thirst.
“How long was I…ill?” Gisburne asked, as if reading Robin’s mind. Tuck had removed the cup and the knight was lying flat on his back again.
Robin couldn’t help smiling. “Nearly three days,” he answered.
“Three days?” Gisburne winced. “Why didn’t you just kill me?”
Robin laughed quietly. “Oh, Will wanted to kill you, but we wouldn’t let him.”
“Why not? Were you hoping for information?”
“No, not at the time, though I’ve just thought of some information you could give me,” Robin said.
Gisburne made a half-hearted attempt to glare, but even he seemed to realize that it wasn’t up to his usual standard. “What do you want?” he asked.
“We only want to know what happened to the money.”
Gisburne passed a hand over his face wearily. “Money?”
“The money the Earl of Derby was sending to King John,” Robin said, trying to sound as if they were discussing a topic that was only of mild interest to him. But Gisburne knew his enemy well enough to see through the act. He actually smiled, though it did little to improve the sick pallor of his complexion.
“Oh, that money,” Gisburne said. “You mean, the money you failed to steal.”
Robin gritted his teeth and gave Gisburne his opportunity to gloat. He deserved it after everything he had just gone through. “Yes, that money,” Robin answered.
“Oh, it was sent to Nottingham on the Newark road.”
Robin gaped at Gisburne. “The Newark road?”
“Yes, the Newark road.” Gisburne yawned and his eyes slipped shut. Robin continued to stare at him long after he had fallen asleep. Then Tuck was standing over him, so Robin looked up at the monk instead.
“They sent it on the Newark road,” Robin said.
Tuck nodded sympathetically. “Yes, I heard.”
“But I had that dream. I saw Gisburne standing by a river,” Robin insisted.
“Maybe your dream had nothing to do with the money,” Tuck said. He patted Robin on the shoulder. “I’d best get back to my stew. It’ll soon be time to put it on the fire.”
Tuck was just returning to his task, when Marion entered the camp. She paused, studied the stew pot thoughtfully then sat down beside Robin. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I’m all right,” Robin said. “Better than some people,” he added, glancing at Gisburne. “He finally woke up by the way. We talked a bit, he drank some water, and then he went back to sleep.”
“It sounds like he’s going to recover, then.” Marion shook her head sadly. “Poor Will.”
Robin laughed. “Yes, poor Will,” he said. Then he grew serious again when Marion reached out to brush an errant strand of hair from his brow. Robin took her hand and gazed deeply into her eyes, trying to read what lay behind them. Tuck muttered an excuse about needing to fetch water, but they didn’t hear him.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Robin asked.
Marion lowered her eyes. “Now that you’re almost better, I’m not needed here anymore.”
Robin tightened his grip on Marion’s hand. “You’re always needed here. I need you. We all need you. Why can’t you stay?”
“You know why, Robin,” Marion whispered. Robin looked away and released his hold on her. He was about to rise, but Marion cupped his face with her hands and kissed him gently. “Maybe someday,” she said. “Just not today.”
Robin stared at her incredulously. “Someday?” he echoed.
Marion nodded and Robin pulled her into an embrace. When they parted, Robin cleared his throat to cover his emotions. “You shouldn’t travel back to Halstead alone,” he said.
Marion stroked Robin’s cheek. “I’ve asked Will to take me back.”
“Will?” Robin asked in surprise.
“I thought it would be best if Will left for a while,” Marion said. “It will distract him from killing Gisburne…or visiting Mab.”
Robin’s mouth fell open. “Visiting Mab?”
Marion smiled. “He was going to ask Mab to curse Gisburne again.”
* * * *
Mab stood contentedly outside the pigpen. While most of her babies were lazing around in the mud, Cedric was eating more swill and little Rutterkin, who wasn’t so little anymore, was butting his head against Ethel’s huge torso. Finally, all seemed right with the world. They were going to leave her in peace at last.
Mab turned and was about to head for her hut, when she heard a loud grunt. Swirling back around, she was horrified to see Rutterkin limping around the pigpen.
“Rutterkin!” she cried. She rushed into the pen at once to examine the pig. Noticing that Rutterkin seemed to be keeping off his right hind leg, she focused her attention there. Rutterkin squealed indignantly as Mab grasped his leg. Holding back tears, Mab wondered who would be cruel enough to harm her baby. Would they never stop plaguing her?
Feeling the leg, Mab could find no signs of physical injury. The leg wasn’t cut, swollen or broken. She began to inspect the hoof. She ran her fingers along the cleft of the cloven foot and froze. Squinting, she studied it more closely. Then she burst into laughter.
“Silly little pig!” she said. “You’ve got a pebble lodged in your hoof!”
