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"Uhhh!" groaned the knight. He sat up slowly and groaned even louder when he remembered who punched him. He hung his head low. "To be caught as a wolfshead...by a wolfshead!" Gisburne lamented. "It's more than I can bear!" He eyed Robin mournfully. "You had might as well take that magical sword of yours and run me through with it!" he moaned.
Robin stared at his nemesis increduously. "Why, Gisburne? Why?"
"I didn't mean for it to happen. If it hadn't been for that sheep--"
"Sheep?" said the outlaw. "I think you had better start from the beginning. I'll pretend to listen."
Although Gisburne wasn't accustomed to taking orders from a wolfshead, he proceeded all the same. "One night, the Sheriff started criticizing me. He said I was incompetent and that I would never arrest you."
"So? What else is new?"
"I was completely sober at the time."
"Completely?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"I decided to rectify the situation and get drunk."
"And did you?"
"Oh, yes."
"What happened?"
"I devised a brilliant plan. I decided to spy on Wickham."
"At night?"
"I was drunk. Anyway, after ignoring the Sheriff's threats, I rode to Wickham expecting to find the villagers engaged in some devious pursuits."
"Like a wild orgy?"
"Yes, I had hoped so, but of course those serfs had to disappoint me! They were all asleep, probably with the intention of rising early and tilling the fields, the lazy scum! I was about to haul them from their beds when I caught movement in the corner of my eye. I turned quickly and saw a man trying to sneak out of the village with a sheep under his arm. I couldn't allow that, of course, so I forced him to release the animal. However, I was then left with this terrible dilemma. I knew I had to arrest the man, but could I risk revealing my identity to do so? I had meant to spy on Wickham in secret after all. And, then, there was the sheep to consider. How could I possibly take it and the thief back to Nottingham at the same time?"
"I don't understand. Why would you take it to Nottingham at all?"
"Why, as evidence of course."
"No other reason?"
"Stolen goods must be confiscated."
"And?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"And?"
"That's none of your concern."
"And?"
"God's Blood! I wanted some mutton, Wolfshead! All right?"
"But you didn't get it, did you?"
Gisburne pouted. "I tied up the thief and started off with the sheep. That was when the villagers decided to wake up. Suddenly, some man was yelling: 'Thief! Varlet! You took my goat!'"
"Goat? I thought it was a sheep."
"So did I," muttered the knight. "Apparently, it was a goat."
Robin started to laugh. "You can't tell the difference?"
"They both say baaaaaah, don't they?"
"Well, yes, but..."
"And it's not as if I could taste them."
"Well, no..."
"And it was very dark."
"But you must have felt its woolly coat!"
"Do you want to hear this story or not, Wolfshead?"
"Yes...but to not know the difference between a sheep and a goat--"
"Stop interrupting, damn you!" yelled Gisburne.
"All right."
"Shut up!"
Robin opened his mouth then nodded.
Gisburne glared at him suspiciously then continued because he enjoyed listening to the sound of his own voice. "When I saw the villagers, I ran for my horse, but that peasant scum surrounded me. I believe Edward was gathering stones to hurl at me, when his brat noticed the thief I had tied up by the shee-goat pen. 'Father! Father!' he said. 'The Varlet tied somebody up!' I thought that was the end. Edward would stone me for sure."
"What happened?" asked Robin, forgetting about the code of silence.
"You'll find this hard to believe, but after Edward ripped the gag out of his mouth the thief confessed!"
"What?"
"It's true! He said he had been stealing sh-goats all his life and had never been caught. He was so ashamed that he vowed never to steal again. It's rather a pity that I'll be hanging him on Tuesday."
"No you won't."
"Oh?"
"We're planning to rescue him."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Damn!"
"Don't worry. We might not succeed. The Varlet could beat us to it."
The knight groaned piteously. "I should have ripped off that cloak and arrested all of them!"
"Why didn't you?"
"I couldn't. They-they..."
"Yes?"
"They said I was a hero. I had never been one before."
"A hero?" scoffed Robin. "For saving a goat?"
"It wasn't just any goat!" protested the knight. "It was Yug!"
Robin suddenly leapt to his feet and Albion was out of its scabbard.
"What's the matter?" asked Gisburne, who sensed that something was the matter.
"You! You're the matter!"
"Oh. What have I done now?"
Robin thrust his sword into the ground angrily. He grew even more furious when he realized that he had missed his intended target. "You have a song!" shouted the outlaw. "I don't have a song!"
"Of course not. You're not the Varlet."
"But I'm Robin Hood!"
"Ah, but you're not the boldest in the land, the renegade without a band."
Robin attempted to extricate Albion from the ground.
"Whenever there's trouble, He's sure to make it double. The Varlet! That's the Varlet!"
"This has to end!" cried Robin, who was beginning to panic.
"You're right."
"What?" Robin released his grip on the hilt, and Albion flew through the air.
"I can't bear it any longer," explained the knight, as Robin searched for his sword. "At first, it was wonderful, but now...all the praise and adulation is just too much. It's hardly the sort of thing I'm accustomed to."
"You had a bad childhood too, didn't you?" said Robin bluntly.
"Yes! Why, did you?"
"No. Mine was very happy. I've just heard that there are people who did and I always felt rather bad about it."
"I hate you! Do you realize that?"
"Yes, I've had my suspicions. I used to assume it was because you were jealous."
"Jealous!"
"Yes, and I think you still are despite your cloak, horse and song."
"Oh, is that so?" Gisburne delved into his black cloak and pulled out a roll of parchment. "Why, I received this letter just the other day."
"Oh no...Scarlet's not sending you death threats again, is he?"
Gisburne glared at the outlaw, though he was relieved to finally learn the identity of his industrious correspondent. Nevertheless, Gisburne unrolled his weapon. "'My Dear Varlet,'" he read. "I have heard stories of your daring exploits, even here in this quiet lonely priory. These tales have stirred my interest, but your cloak has won my heart.'"
"What?" cried Robin.
"'I thought that I could never love another hooded man again, but I fear that you may prove me wrong.'"
"But--"
"'Please meet me in the chapel at Halstead Priory after evensong,'" continued Gisburne. "'I'll be in the third row, second nun on the left.'"
"NOOOOOOO!" screamed Robin.
"'Yours so very truly, Lady Wolfshead.'"
"Give me that!" Robin snatched the letter and pored over it frantically. It took awhile, but eventually Robin's fury subsided a little.
"There's only one way to end this," he said.
"Meet Lady Wolfshead in that pew after evensong?"
"No!" said Robin angrily. "We have to kill the Varlet!"
Gisburne stared at him, shook his head, and stood up quickly. "Oh, no! I may be thicker than Friar Tuck's midriff, but even I won't fall for that!"
Robin rose to his feet as well, blocking the knight's path before he could attempt another escape. "Gisburne, we make it look like you killed the Varlet."
"What? How?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you seem quite happy to play this game of yours."
"Happy! How could I possibly be happy? Do you know how exhausting it is to steal all those things during the night, simply to rise early the next morning, ride to all those villages and confiscate everything the Varlet has taken! I've barely slept in days! I-I've stopped caring whether I catch all those bloody poachers or not, the torture chamber has lost all of its appeal...even my cape has been drooping!"
For a brief moment, Robin almost felt sorry for him. He also began to wonder if killing the Varlet was such a wonderful idea. Perhaps the Varlet should be killing Gisburne instead...Then Robin remembered the humiliation he had suffered in Wickham, the bitterness of defeat. "The Varlet must die," he growled.
"Well, how? How can I kill him if he's me?"
"I was going to tell you when you started making all of those allusions to Tuck's stomach!" Robin looked around carefully and lowered his voice. "I'll disguise myself as the Varlet and visit Wickham tomorrow at dusk. You'll also appear, but as Gisburne."
"And?"
"And you shoot me with a crossbow," explained Robin.
His enemy smiled blissfully.
"I'll have something under my tunic, Gisburne!"
"Oh."
Robin noticed that Gisburne did little to hide his disappointment. "Is it agreed?" he asked impatiently.
Gisburne glared at the outlaw, but knew he had no other choice. "All right," he replied reluctantly. "I agree."
* * * *
"Who's singing?" asked Robin.
Edward pointed towards the source of the music. The outlaw walked as if he were in a trance. A crowd had gathered around the goat pen. However, instead of chewing on a boot or a small child, Yug was...
"You're singing my song!" Robin pushed his way past the villagers and stood before the goat pen, enchanted.
"Robin Hood," sang the goat. "Robin...da, da, da, da...the Hooded Man...Da dum. Robin Hood. Robin...da, da, da, da...Gisburne's half-brother. Da dum!"
Robin screamed and sat up, sweat pouring down his face.
A hand fell on his shoulder. "What is it, lad?"
Robin stared at the bearded face in front of him, but this wasn't any goat. It looked like he wasn't in Wickham anymore. Suddenly Robin remembered stumbling into the camp after his startling confrontation with the Varlet, exhausted and eager to put one thoroughly bad day behind him. "I had a dream, John," he said.
"A dream?" Tuck asked. "I'd call that a nightmare!"
"I suppose it was. I dreamt that I was in Wickham and Yug was singing my song."
"Your song?" said John.
"Yug?" exclaimed Will.
"Yes, the one I started working on yesterday. Robin Hood. Robin...da, da, da, da...Gi-uh...never mind."
"'Gi-uh...never mind'? That ain't no song!"
"Aye, Will, it had no rhymes," said John.
"There's no metre either," added Much. "No alliteration, no kennings..."
"And 'Gi-uh...never mind' sounds awful!" stated Will.
"Well, I don't see any of you coming up with anything better!" yelled Robin.
"It would be hard to come up with anything worse!" retorted Will.
Robin was on his feet in an instant. "Right, I'll leave you to it, then!"
"Oh, he didn't mean anything by it, Robin," said Tuck, always the peacemaker. "We're all just upset about the Varlet."
"Are you? Well, you won't have to worry about him after tonight."
All of his men turned to him in surprise.
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Will.
Robin smiled. "Let's just say that you won't be in such a hurry to leave this band," he stated, looking directly at Nasir. "Oh, yes, I saw what you were doing in the woods yesterday."
The Saracen blushed deeply. He didn't realize that Robin was referring to a different activity altogether. "I'm sorry, Robin," muttered Nasir.
"You should be," said Robin sternly. "If I still thought you were the Varlet, I might not forgive you."
"Psst! Over here!"
The Varlet urged his horse forward, and Robin flew down from the tree.
"Ow!" howled Gisburne, who was lying supine on the forest floor. "What was that for, you fool?"
"Sorry. Force of habit."
"Force of habit? How's this for force of habit?" exclaimed Gisburne, biting Robin's leg.
"Hey, you've never done that before!"
"Oh? Haven't I? I always meant to." Gisburne slowly rose to his feet, and Robin took several steps back. The knight proceeded to brush the dirt off his black cloak. Robin approached cautiously, and Gisburne kicked him with relish. As the outlaw sank to the ground, Gisburne peeled off the cloak and tossed it at his enemy. "Here. I suppose you'll need this."
"I'll need your horse too, Gisburne."
"What?"
"His steed is black and quick its pace."
"But-but you can't! You're a wolfshead!"
"And the Varlet isn't?"
"But-but I need my horse!"
"You've got legs."
"I'm a knight! I can't be seen without my horse!"
"You've lost it before. If anyone asks you about it, just tell them I stole it."
"You have!"
"Then there shouldn't be any problems."
"All right," agreed Gisburne sadly. "You'll look after him, won't you?"
"Yes."
"And you won't dig your heels in too hard?"
"No."
"Will you--?"
"Oh, for the love of Herne, I'll look after your horse!" cried Robin. He patted the horse's flank gently as if to prove his good intentions. "Now, you'd better get going if you're going to reach Wickham by sunset."
"Look, everybody! It's the Varlet!"
"The Varlet! Where?"
Robin beamed behind the hood. Yes, this was much better. Robin dismounted Gisburne's horse gingerly and greeted his followers.
"Hey, didn't you used to be taller?" asked Matthew, who was already organizing a line of children in front of Gisburne's horse.
Robin shook his head.
"I could have sworn you were taller."
Robin shook his head.
"Did you go on a daring adventure today, Varlet?"
Robin shook his head.
"But you robbed somebody, didn't you?"
Robin considered the question for a moment, then shook his head.
"Have you brought us anything?"
Robin shook his head.
"Are you sure you're the Varlet?"
Robin shook his head. He instantly regretted it when Matthew gaped at him with wide hurt eyes.
"Oh...uh..."
"He's not the Varlet or, at least, he won't be when I'm through with him!" barked a voice both Robin and the villagers knew only too well.
Gisburne emerged from Yug's pen with a crossbow in his hands. Some villagers cursed and others screamed. Most just cleared a path for the knight. Robin touched the large block of wood under his tunic. Gisburne would have to be a very bad shot, indeed, if he missed this target. Perhaps this was why Robin was surprised when an arrow embedded itself in his shoulder.
"You shot me!" shouted Robin.
Gisburne dropped his crossbow, unsure whether he should be upset or overjoyed. It didn't take him long to decide. "The Sheriff always said you'd go far. No, wait...I've used that line already. Damn! I can't think of another one! Oh, well, I suppose I'll have to settle for gloating. I shot Robin Hood! I shot Robin Hood! Not the Sheriff of Nottingham or one hundred men on some tor, but little ol' me in little ol' Wickham!" Gisburne laughed as the villagers began to flee to their huts. "That's right! You'd better run! I might shoot you too!" The knight's laughter increased as Robin writhed in agony on the ground. Then, the mist started rolling in...
"Oh, oh..." said Gisburne. He knew he should run from the village, from Nottingham, and possibly even the shire, but he stood frozen to the spot. A figure slowly emerged from the mist: a figure with antlers...
"Wh-wh-what do you want?" stammered Gisburne.
"The Powers of Light and Darkness are with you. You are the Hooded Man," stated Herne.
"What? No I'm not! I'm not a wolfshead!"
"Yes, you are."
"But my name isn't Robin or Robert!"
"It would have been if your father had known about you."
Gisburne stared at Herne, unable to produce speech for some time. "You know who my real father is?" whispered the knight.
"Yes, but forget about him, Guy. I'm your father now."
Gisburne shook his head and started to back away. "No, that's not true...That's impossible!" *
"Search your feelings. You know it be true." *
"NOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" *
"Guy, why are you cradling your wrist like that?"
Gisburne stepped farther back, then took to his heels.
"You'll be back," called Herne.
"Herne," croaked Robin.
"You cannot deny your destiny."
"I'm not dead yet." **
"Use the Powers, Guy!"
"Aren't you going to heal me?" demanded Robin, who didn't notice that the forest god was stuffing several pieces of toffee into his mouth. "Herne?"
"Oh Shwit!"
* Lifted directly from The Empire Strikes Back.
** Strongly influenced by Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Ah, hell! I stole this one too, okay?
