Written By Time - Year Ten
Title: Written By Time
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: PG - 13
Pairings/characters : Much, Robin, Guy, Vaysey
Word Count: 1944
Warnings: None
Summary: Much and Robin make their Journey to the Holy Land. Life continues to suck for Guy.
Disclaimer: I own very little, and certainly not and recognisable characters. More's the pity.
Change alone is eternal, perpetual, immortal.
- Schopenhauer
Year Ten - Much & Robin
Much wasn't especially surprised to hear that Jerusalem had fallen to the Turks. Of course, it would have been nice to know that before he had practically begged Robin to take him along. He'd thought Robin intended to go as a sort of peace-keeper, help out the cause, train with the king's knights for a bit and then go home. If he'd known there was a war on, he would have found a way to stop his master from going, somehow.
Robin had known, but he hadn't thought it important enough to mention before they had set out. Now they were about to board a boat headed to France, with a dozen other young knights who had either been summoned or had chosen to go fight for their king.
Much learned quickly that he didn't like sea travel, at all. Robin didn't seem to be bothered by the perpetual rocking motion of the ship, and he found Much's discomfort hysterical. When they finally got there, Much decided France was his favourite place ever, because it had dry land. He mentioned this to Robin, and was horrified when his master told him that their next sea journey would be quite a bit longer. Robin tried to draw him a map of their route, but all much could see was the huge expanse of water between France and the Holy Land. He was most relieved when Robin said there was at least a few weeks journey before they would be back on a boat. He hated himself for thinking it, but he thought that if he was lucky, Robin would injure himself on the journey, and they would have to stay in France instead of going on. He didn't want his master to be seriously or permanently injured, just enough to make travel impossible for a time.
One of the boys they had met on the boat trip across, Matthew, stuck close to them during their over-land journey. He was maybe a year or two older than Robin, but he had the same lust for adventure that the younger boy did, and they became fast friends. Perhaps it was because of this friendship that Robin didn't want to believe, when the older boy could barely walk and was coughing up blood, that he was as ill as Much could see he was. As anyone could have seen he was. But Robin tried to hide his friend's weakness, until it was impossible to disguise the fact that Matthew couldn't go on any further. He was dead within three days. Much would always remember him as the first casualty of their time at war, the man who didn't even make it to the Holy Land.
They made it to the port in just over three weeks, but it would be two more days before a ship was leaving for Acre. They were probably the worst two days of Much's life, he was so anxious over getting on a boat that would take up to four months to reach it's destination. The few days from England to France had been awful, how was he going to survive months? Robin seemed to think he would get used to it, and reminded his friend that he had invited himself along on this expedition, and that he could easily have stayed back in Locksley. Much knew that he could never have let his master go off to the far side of the world alone, and so he decided to grin and bear it.
Thankfully, the trip only took two months, but Much was a wreck by the end of it. Even Robin didn't look as healthy as he had at the beginning of the journey, and they were both happy to collapse into beds when they got to Acre. The first uninterrupted sleep Much had enjoyed in two months worked wonders, and Robin looked much better in the morning as well. Now that the worst of the travel was over, Robin was excited at the prospect of earning his place by the King's side. Tomorrow they would begin training with other soldiers to be battle-ready.
Robin's skill with a bow was noticed early on in his training. Word soon got around about him to the higher-ranking officers, and there were rumours that he would become a part of the King's personal guard. Much assumed this was idle talk until it actually happened.
Of course, the King's guard had a hundred odd men in it, but to Robin it was all he could ever have hoped for. He longed to prove himself in battle, and Much heard of nothing else until they were spirited away to the King's camp.
Much didn't like the way King Richard looked at Robin. It felt almost...predatory. He was always uncomfortable in the King's presence, he knew he shouldn't be there, but Robin always insisted that Much remain by his side. Much was tolerated by the others who were close to the King, but he was certainly never accepted, and no-one but Robin ever spoke to him, unless it was to give him a gruff order.
For the first few weeks, life was quiet on the battle front. Much was beginning to wonder if any actual fighting went on during war times, when the first attack came. He kept close to Robin as he fired of arrow after arrow, and watched as Saracens simply dropped to the ground when he hit them. If anyone got too close for his master to shoot them, Much moved to take down anyone who got too close for Robin to shoot. He didn't allow himself to think that he was ending another man's life. They were after Robin, and Robin had to live. Keeping Robin alive and well had been his responsibility for almost ten years, now, and he wasn't about to let him down now.
Eventually the Saracen raiding party retreated, and Much looked around to see Robin slump to the ground. He ran over to his master, heart in his mouth, thinking that he had been wounded while Much had been busy fighting. When he reached his master, Much noticed that he was crying. He had only seen Robin cry once before, back home. Much moved to kneel beside his master, and put a hand on his shoulder. Robin leaned in to his friend and buried his face in the other man's neck.
“Robin, are you hurt?” Much didn't think he was, but he thought it best to make sure.
“No.” Robin sobbed and sucked in a breath.
“Then what's wrong?”
“I killed them, Much. They were people, just like you and me, and I killed them.”
Much wasn't entirely sure what to say. In principle, it was wrong to kill people. It said so in the Bible. But these people had been coming to kill them. But then again, their King had started it, and this was Turk land. At least that's what he thought, he wasn't too clear on the details. But what could he tell his master to comfort him?
“I killed them too. And they would have killed you without a second thought, given the chance, master. Please don't cry, do you want the others to see you crying? Do you want the King to see you?”
When Robin looked up at him, eyes shining with barely held back tears, it truly hit Much just how young his master was. How young they both were. Much thought about telling Robin to give it up, to go back to Locksley and live a normal, peaceful life. But he knew that wouldn't help, so instead he chose to tell Robin an outright lie.
“They aren't like us, you know. You've heard plenty of high-ranking lords say so. Even the King says so, and he must know what he's talking about, right? They're barbarians, Robin, and they shouldn't be allowed to live in the Holy City. That's why we're here, isn't it? To fight for God and King Richard?”
Robin seemed to calm down then, and Much hugged him tightly for a second before standing up and helping him to his feet.
Much wondered later why killing a man hadn't bothered him like it had Robin. He came to the conclusion that it was because Robin's life was more important to him than his own soul. And that was ok.
Year Ten - Vaysey & Guy
February 6th, 1188
Had an incident at Locksley today. Flour was stolen from the stores. Apparently the peasants are starving. Boo hoo. The carpenter confessed. I know it wasn't him, Gizzy knows it wasn't him, but what do we care. His hand is just as good as the real thief's, the lesson remains the same. You can't teach these people individually, they only understand things in a herd capacity.
The trial is tomorrow. I do so love dispensing justice.
February 7th, 1188
The carpenter from Locksley is called Dan Scarlett. Shouldn't he be called “Wood” or “Axe” or something? I'll never understand these peasant names. Why do they need last names anyway? It's not like anyone needs to be able to tell the difference.
I did especially like the part when his kiddies cried and shouted “Dad, no!” - ooh, Mr. Sheriff, please don't hurt my father! Well, little peasant boy, tell your father he's an idiot for thinking that anyone gets away with stealing from me and mine.
Like to see him do carpentry with one hand. Must go watch some day, if I get bored.
April 2nd, 1187
So busy with peasants and local lords coming to whine to me. These people had it far too easy under Eddy. It's not my problem if your crop fails. I don't especially care if your peasants are dying. Yes, that is the correct tax amount, and if you come back without it, I will lock you in the dungeons, and then send for Gizzy to torture you.
June 5th, 1188
Visiting. Nobles. How fun. I do so love catering to the every whim of the overstuffed peacocks who have planted themselves in my castle for the week. A whole week, no less. Excuse me while I go throttle somebody.
It's times like this when I really wish Gizzy still lived in the castle. Then I could palm them off onto him and let him deal with the nuisance. And with his people skills, they may never come back.
Actually, I think I will invite him for the week. And by “invite,” I mean “order him to come stay at the castle”.
June 7th, 1188
Astounded by Gisborne's restraint. At his age, the visitors would already be dead, regardless of what my superiors had told me to do. Obviously he is much better at following orders than I was. Good, just what I want in a right-hand-man.
June 12th, 1188
I think I will throw myself a little party tonight, to celebrate getting rid of our visitors. Gisborne can come too. I might even break out some of the good wine for him, he made such an excellent buffer over the week.
October 15th, 1188
Hard to imagine I only got to Nottingham a year ago today. I feel as though I've only just gotten started here, there is so much left to do. Apparently the tavern was on fire earlier today. I am slightly miffed that I missed it. I hope the owner doesn't think the inconvenience will get him out of paying his taxes. Perhaps I should drop by later to make sure he knows.
Next Chapter
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: PG - 13
Pairings/characters : Much, Robin, Guy, Vaysey
Word Count: 1944
Warnings: None
Summary: Much and Robin make their Journey to the Holy Land. Life continues to suck for Guy.
Disclaimer: I own very little, and certainly not and recognisable characters. More's the pity.
Change alone is eternal, perpetual, immortal.
- Schopenhauer
Year Ten - Much & Robin
Much wasn't especially surprised to hear that Jerusalem had fallen to the Turks. Of course, it would have been nice to know that before he had practically begged Robin to take him along. He'd thought Robin intended to go as a sort of peace-keeper, help out the cause, train with the king's knights for a bit and then go home. If he'd known there was a war on, he would have found a way to stop his master from going, somehow.
Robin had known, but he hadn't thought it important enough to mention before they had set out. Now they were about to board a boat headed to France, with a dozen other young knights who had either been summoned or had chosen to go fight for their king.
Much learned quickly that he didn't like sea travel, at all. Robin didn't seem to be bothered by the perpetual rocking motion of the ship, and he found Much's discomfort hysterical. When they finally got there, Much decided France was his favourite place ever, because it had dry land. He mentioned this to Robin, and was horrified when his master told him that their next sea journey would be quite a bit longer. Robin tried to draw him a map of their route, but all much could see was the huge expanse of water between France and the Holy Land. He was most relieved when Robin said there was at least a few weeks journey before they would be back on a boat. He hated himself for thinking it, but he thought that if he was lucky, Robin would injure himself on the journey, and they would have to stay in France instead of going on. He didn't want his master to be seriously or permanently injured, just enough to make travel impossible for a time.
One of the boys they had met on the boat trip across, Matthew, stuck close to them during their over-land journey. He was maybe a year or two older than Robin, but he had the same lust for adventure that the younger boy did, and they became fast friends. Perhaps it was because of this friendship that Robin didn't want to believe, when the older boy could barely walk and was coughing up blood, that he was as ill as Much could see he was. As anyone could have seen he was. But Robin tried to hide his friend's weakness, until it was impossible to disguise the fact that Matthew couldn't go on any further. He was dead within three days. Much would always remember him as the first casualty of their time at war, the man who didn't even make it to the Holy Land.
They made it to the port in just over three weeks, but it would be two more days before a ship was leaving for Acre. They were probably the worst two days of Much's life, he was so anxious over getting on a boat that would take up to four months to reach it's destination. The few days from England to France had been awful, how was he going to survive months? Robin seemed to think he would get used to it, and reminded his friend that he had invited himself along on this expedition, and that he could easily have stayed back in Locksley. Much knew that he could never have let his master go off to the far side of the world alone, and so he decided to grin and bear it.
Thankfully, the trip only took two months, but Much was a wreck by the end of it. Even Robin didn't look as healthy as he had at the beginning of the journey, and they were both happy to collapse into beds when they got to Acre. The first uninterrupted sleep Much had enjoyed in two months worked wonders, and Robin looked much better in the morning as well. Now that the worst of the travel was over, Robin was excited at the prospect of earning his place by the King's side. Tomorrow they would begin training with other soldiers to be battle-ready.
Robin's skill with a bow was noticed early on in his training. Word soon got around about him to the higher-ranking officers, and there were rumours that he would become a part of the King's personal guard. Much assumed this was idle talk until it actually happened.
Of course, the King's guard had a hundred odd men in it, but to Robin it was all he could ever have hoped for. He longed to prove himself in battle, and Much heard of nothing else until they were spirited away to the King's camp.
Much didn't like the way King Richard looked at Robin. It felt almost...predatory. He was always uncomfortable in the King's presence, he knew he shouldn't be there, but Robin always insisted that Much remain by his side. Much was tolerated by the others who were close to the King, but he was certainly never accepted, and no-one but Robin ever spoke to him, unless it was to give him a gruff order.
For the first few weeks, life was quiet on the battle front. Much was beginning to wonder if any actual fighting went on during war times, when the first attack came. He kept close to Robin as he fired of arrow after arrow, and watched as Saracens simply dropped to the ground when he hit them. If anyone got too close for his master to shoot them, Much moved to take down anyone who got too close for Robin to shoot. He didn't allow himself to think that he was ending another man's life. They were after Robin, and Robin had to live. Keeping Robin alive and well had been his responsibility for almost ten years, now, and he wasn't about to let him down now.
Eventually the Saracen raiding party retreated, and Much looked around to see Robin slump to the ground. He ran over to his master, heart in his mouth, thinking that he had been wounded while Much had been busy fighting. When he reached his master, Much noticed that he was crying. He had only seen Robin cry once before, back home. Much moved to kneel beside his master, and put a hand on his shoulder. Robin leaned in to his friend and buried his face in the other man's neck.
“Robin, are you hurt?” Much didn't think he was, but he thought it best to make sure.
“No.” Robin sobbed and sucked in a breath.
“Then what's wrong?”
“I killed them, Much. They were people, just like you and me, and I killed them.”
Much wasn't entirely sure what to say. In principle, it was wrong to kill people. It said so in the Bible. But these people had been coming to kill them. But then again, their King had started it, and this was Turk land. At least that's what he thought, he wasn't too clear on the details. But what could he tell his master to comfort him?
“I killed them too. And they would have killed you without a second thought, given the chance, master. Please don't cry, do you want the others to see you crying? Do you want the King to see you?”
When Robin looked up at him, eyes shining with barely held back tears, it truly hit Much just how young his master was. How young they both were. Much thought about telling Robin to give it up, to go back to Locksley and live a normal, peaceful life. But he knew that wouldn't help, so instead he chose to tell Robin an outright lie.
“They aren't like us, you know. You've heard plenty of high-ranking lords say so. Even the King says so, and he must know what he's talking about, right? They're barbarians, Robin, and they shouldn't be allowed to live in the Holy City. That's why we're here, isn't it? To fight for God and King Richard?”
Robin seemed to calm down then, and Much hugged him tightly for a second before standing up and helping him to his feet.
Much wondered later why killing a man hadn't bothered him like it had Robin. He came to the conclusion that it was because Robin's life was more important to him than his own soul. And that was ok.
Year Ten - Vaysey & Guy
February 6th, 1188
Had an incident at Locksley today. Flour was stolen from the stores. Apparently the peasants are starving. Boo hoo. The carpenter confessed. I know it wasn't him, Gizzy knows it wasn't him, but what do we care. His hand is just as good as the real thief's, the lesson remains the same. You can't teach these people individually, they only understand things in a herd capacity.
The trial is tomorrow. I do so love dispensing justice.
February 7th, 1188
The carpenter from Locksley is called Dan Scarlett. Shouldn't he be called “Wood” or “Axe” or something? I'll never understand these peasant names. Why do they need last names anyway? It's not like anyone needs to be able to tell the difference.
I did especially like the part when his kiddies cried and shouted “Dad, no!” - ooh, Mr. Sheriff, please don't hurt my father! Well, little peasant boy, tell your father he's an idiot for thinking that anyone gets away with stealing from me and mine.
Like to see him do carpentry with one hand. Must go watch some day, if I get bored.
April 2nd, 1187
So busy with peasants and local lords coming to whine to me. These people had it far too easy under Eddy. It's not my problem if your crop fails. I don't especially care if your peasants are dying. Yes, that is the correct tax amount, and if you come back without it, I will lock you in the dungeons, and then send for Gizzy to torture you.
June 5th, 1188
Visiting. Nobles. How fun. I do so love catering to the every whim of the overstuffed peacocks who have planted themselves in my castle for the week. A whole week, no less. Excuse me while I go throttle somebody.
It's times like this when I really wish Gizzy still lived in the castle. Then I could palm them off onto him and let him deal with the nuisance. And with his people skills, they may never come back.
Actually, I think I will invite him for the week. And by “invite,” I mean “order him to come stay at the castle”.
June 7th, 1188
Astounded by Gisborne's restraint. At his age, the visitors would already be dead, regardless of what my superiors had told me to do. Obviously he is much better at following orders than I was. Good, just what I want in a right-hand-man.
June 12th, 1188
I think I will throw myself a little party tonight, to celebrate getting rid of our visitors. Gisborne can come too. I might even break out some of the good wine for him, he made such an excellent buffer over the week.
October 15th, 1188
Hard to imagine I only got to Nottingham a year ago today. I feel as though I've only just gotten started here, there is so much left to do. Apparently the tavern was on fire earlier today. I am slightly miffed that I missed it. I hope the owner doesn't think the inconvenience will get him out of paying his taxes. Perhaps I should drop by later to make sure he knows.
Next Chapter