Fletching Arrows
Who: Djaq
What: Fletching arrows, having some time alone to think
Where: Sherwood, near camp
When: Late afternoon, 21st September
The afternoon was quiet and still, as Djaq sat; the shaft of an arrow firmly held in one hand, deftly manipulating the thread around it with her nimble fingers. It was easy to lose track of how many arrows she had fletched in the last month. There were always more arrows needed. And it no longer required the concentration it had when she had first learned the technique, so taking a bunch of freshly whittled arrows into the forest to fletch made a perfect excuse to sit and think, undisturbed by the others.
Today, Djaq didn't need to think, she just needed to be alone. The camp felt stifling recently. Things no longer worked like they used to, when Allan was part of the gang. Of course things would never be the same. But things felt wrong. No-one seemed to want to talk about what had happened, and everyone seemed to want to carry on as if nothing was wrong. Getting rid of the traitor had caused more problems than it had solved. And why did Djaq feel so much like the group was falling apart? It didn't feel like they were a gang anymore, it felt like they were just five outlaws in the forest. There was the distinct terrifying possibility that they were growing apart.
For the first time since arriving in England, she really felt alone. It had taken very little time working with them to realize that she fit in here, with them in their little group. She had to be grateful for their acceptance of her, which she had taken as a good sign from Allah that she was indeed finally in the right place for her. Slowly, she had learned that she could rely on them. At first, not sure how to be with these Englishmen, she had viewed it as an exchange, everything they did for her, from food to favors, she felt the need to repay, anyway that she could. But over time, she learned that they intended to indeed be friends, and so such things were common between them and did not require reciprocation. Only now, she felt as if she was on her own again. In Nottingham alone, all yesterday; it felt like everyone was equally separate again. As if they now lived side-by-side instead of together.
Djaq paused, trying to flush the thoughts from her mind, trying to focus on the arrow in her fingers and nothing else. She gently tugged the feathering one by one to make sure she had pulled the binding tight enough. Satisfied, she snipped off the excess cord between her thumb and the sharp knife kept primarily for this task. As she laid that arrow to the side and turned the knife to carefully split a new feather into six fletches, her mind played over yesterday's events.
It had bothered her, feeling alone. She couldn't blame anyone; John and she had to separate so that one of them could get into Nottingham and take the important money-drop to the people who were expecting them there. No matter, Djaq could handle it. Things could have gone a lot better if there had been someone else there, though. She would have been able to ask for someone else's support for her hastily altered plan. If she hadn't been alone she could have found out something about Sir James, without getting hanged before anyone would realize she even needed their help. And if she hadn't been alone, she wouldn't have felt the pressure to work out the situation herself. Everything worked better when they were a team, when they protected each other, when they knew someone else would catch them if they fell.
Sir James was an odd one, though. At first, he had given them no impression that he was a Black Knight. He just didn't seem dangerous enough, or driven; he didn't seem like he'd fit in with the Sheriff's collaboration of traitors. Perhaps he was only the new occupier of Teversal, a gentle man just passing this way; the man who had spoken so politely to her, in her native tongue and called her "my lady". If speaking Arabic in England was rare, then being called "my lady" was an absolute nonoccurrence. There was nothing she had done that he should hold her in such high regard for; she was an outlaw in the forest. Never a "my lady" from anyone! But maybe that was the plan, that he had been forewarned of her presence in Robin's gang, that he was to act peaceful and polite to gain their trust, but in reality, he was allied with the Sheriff and the Black Knights. It fit with the way that as soon as he entered the castle, he changed his attitude. He looked like a completely different man after that. Like he could fit into the Black Knights easily.
Still, Djaq would know the truth after Lucas' letter. And then she might be able to piece things together and tell her friends the truth about Sir James. For now, all she could do was warn them to be careful around him. Careful about what they said, and careful not to put themselves at his mercy. It always paid to be cautious, no matter who or what they were dealing with. Unless Lucas was not going to help her either, but she reckoned she already had enough information on Sir James to work out if there was a contradiction between her knowledge and his message. So if the young squire was being untruthful, she'd know, and know that she could no longer trust him.
Maybe if she hadn't put herself in such a dangerous position, and following back from that, if she hadn't felt forced to work on her own, she wouldn't have had to trust the young man. But if the others had been around, they would never have met. She deeply regretted that she had put herself in such a vulnerable position before him; a man she had only just met, she didn't know if she could trust him. They had been forced to trust each other. At first, she had assumed that he had the advantage because he could have called the castle guards at any time, but he never did. And he had trusted her to disarm him, even though it became clear he valued his life so much. She shouldn't have trusted him so easily, so what was it in her that bade her to so strongly?
He had certainly caught her off-guard by calling her pretty. Did he really think that? Or was he just trying to flatter her, and make her do what he wanted? There wasn't many men who talked to her like that. Either they didn't think it, or knew that it was better not to patronize her that way. In fact... The last man to flatter her like that was Allan. He seemed to like to tease her that way sometimes, and he was bold enough to face her like that, unlike some of the others. She missed it, missed him, more than she could admit. Allan could never be replaced and everything had to change now he was gone. So Djaq had quietened, and kept to herself, always observant, until things settled in the camp and she could find her space in the group again. As far as Djaq could see, though, they were still in the process. But no matter how many times Robin advised it, forgetting him was not so simple and so easy. He had been their friend for such a long time, and it felt wrong to shun him, especially when that was the time he needed them most.
Once again, Djaq found herself wanting to clear her mind, and wishing she didn't think at all. She quickly picked up another arrow, hoping to bury all concentration in this work. She definitely didn't want to think about Allan. Robin was right, no matter how difficult, forgetting him was the best way. Even if she could shun the man from her thoughts while she was alone or in the forest, they only had to go to Nottingham to see the Sheriff parading the man round like his prize, won or lured to their allegiance. Djaq stopped again, pulling the chord tight in her fingers until it was pressing uncomfortably into them. She refused to let herself think about him. There were other things to think about and distract herself with. Like once again processing yesterday's events in Nottingham.
She hated herself as she watched herself reacting again. She couldn't bear to think of how she had acted so weak, and let herself be so vulnerable. Lucas had no idea what it was like to be treated as someone's property instead of a person. It was demeaning to have no say in every action one had to undertake that day. Djaq had had a lucky escape, thanks to her new friends in England. As awful as that fate would have been for such an independent person, what he had suggested was far worse. It was no secret that crusaders caught beautiful Saracen women for their pleasures back home. It was inconsiderate and abhorrent, utterly against human values. But then, most crusaders didn't see Saracens as human at all; they couldn't kill her people as passionately, brutally and thoughtlessly if they did. If they had any spark of human kindness, they wouldn't sell them as slaves. They had to know what was waiting for those they so callously sold; for the men, hard labour, but for the women, a life of humiliating sexual domination. There was nothing worse. It would have been better to have died taking her last stand than to be subjected to that. And as lucky an escape she had achieved at the mines in Nottinghamshire, there was nothing luckier than the escape she had already given herself. She could not have let her captors find out she was not the man she pretended to be, for her own protection.
Sometimes it still was too much to be Djaq all the time. Her friends knew her as strong and brave, equable and composed, rational and knowledgeable Djaq. But the facade was slipping, and so was she, she worried. No, Djaq was no mask, even if the name was borrowed. Djaq was her, but no matter how much it was her nature and no false pretense, it felt so pressured and claustrophobic right now. Not a facade, she corrected herself, it was a reputation. That didn't make it any easier to take a break from. In fact, it made it harder. Harder because the very friends who would help her were the same people for whom she had to maintain that reputation. It made her thankful that it was Lucas in front of whom she had been so weak; a young squire, sent as a messenger, probably wouldn't even be in Nottingham much past Michaelmas. He was hardly important, and she could easily not see him again and not have to face up to her lapse.
That wasn't right, though, because she could feel that she did want to see him again. It surely couldn't be because she wanted to see his endearing nervous smile and listen to his sweet but cheeky comments again, could it? There was no sense in that. He did have a pretty face, she couldn't deny, and such big blue eyes. Djaq took a breath. What was it with Englishmen and their beautiful blue eyes? They just seemed so innocent, so adorable. It would be her downfall if she allowed every blue-eyed man to take her trust at the first time of asking, though. There were too many, and innocent eyes did not an innocent man make. Lucas still had to prove himself.
If he proved himself trustworthy, and the contents of his note would be testament to that, then she felt compelled to keep his information exchange open. He seemed to have information from the castle, and was low enough in rank to not be noticed. As were many of the servants, but they generally weren't talkative much about anything they knew: they were probably too scared of possible repercussions or kept too busy with duties to find out much at all.
Lucas was scared for his life, too, but maybe that was the best way to assure his assistance. Perhaps he would continue to fetch her information if she promised him protection. She made up her mind to write him a note, and personally make sure he received it, asking for more information, offering protection. The words already started to form in her mind. For a second, she considered including that she was a friend of Robin Hood, but that wasn't a wise idea. It might scare the young man to think that he might be in such danger, and even if he was braver than that, it wasn't wise to put him in more danger than necessary by leaving him with a letter that implicated his association with an outlaw. That was the very reason she couldn't tell him her name. He would probably assume that she couldn't trust him yet, which was a reasonable assumption. The whole situation could be a trap - it was he who had insisted on leaving the note someplace. It was a distinct possibility that she could be arrested by the castle guards the minute she retrieved it. Especially if he had found out she was an outlaw, he could gain some reward from the Sheriff by turning her in. She'd have to plan very carefully if she didn't want to fall foul of such a callous betrayal.
All the same, Djaq so wanted the boy to be honourable and wanted him to make a good contact. Partly because she wanted to prove to the others she had been being useful with her time in Nottingham, procuring help that would benefit them all. Only, it was mostly because she didn't want to believe that every blue-eyed, slightly cheeky young man was a traitor, with his loyalties sold to the highest bidder. If she could have had a second chance to persuade Allan to apologize and stay with the gang, she would. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to get a second chance for Allan. So she had to try this time for a chance for Lucas' sake.
What: Fletching arrows, having some time alone to think
Where: Sherwood, near camp
When: Late afternoon, 21st September
The afternoon was quiet and still, as Djaq sat; the shaft of an arrow firmly held in one hand, deftly manipulating the thread around it with her nimble fingers. It was easy to lose track of how many arrows she had fletched in the last month. There were always more arrows needed. And it no longer required the concentration it had when she had first learned the technique, so taking a bunch of freshly whittled arrows into the forest to fletch made a perfect excuse to sit and think, undisturbed by the others.
Today, Djaq didn't need to think, she just needed to be alone. The camp felt stifling recently. Things no longer worked like they used to, when Allan was part of the gang. Of course things would never be the same. But things felt wrong. No-one seemed to want to talk about what had happened, and everyone seemed to want to carry on as if nothing was wrong. Getting rid of the traitor had caused more problems than it had solved. And why did Djaq feel so much like the group was falling apart? It didn't feel like they were a gang anymore, it felt like they were just five outlaws in the forest. There was the distinct terrifying possibility that they were growing apart.
For the first time since arriving in England, she really felt alone. It had taken very little time working with them to realize that she fit in here, with them in their little group. She had to be grateful for their acceptance of her, which she had taken as a good sign from Allah that she was indeed finally in the right place for her. Slowly, she had learned that she could rely on them. At first, not sure how to be with these Englishmen, she had viewed it as an exchange, everything they did for her, from food to favors, she felt the need to repay, anyway that she could. But over time, she learned that they intended to indeed be friends, and so such things were common between them and did not require reciprocation. Only now, she felt as if she was on her own again. In Nottingham alone, all yesterday; it felt like everyone was equally separate again. As if they now lived side-by-side instead of together.
Djaq paused, trying to flush the thoughts from her mind, trying to focus on the arrow in her fingers and nothing else. She gently tugged the feathering one by one to make sure she had pulled the binding tight enough. Satisfied, she snipped off the excess cord between her thumb and the sharp knife kept primarily for this task. As she laid that arrow to the side and turned the knife to carefully split a new feather into six fletches, her mind played over yesterday's events.
It had bothered her, feeling alone. She couldn't blame anyone; John and she had to separate so that one of them could get into Nottingham and take the important money-drop to the people who were expecting them there. No matter, Djaq could handle it. Things could have gone a lot better if there had been someone else there, though. She would have been able to ask for someone else's support for her hastily altered plan. If she hadn't been alone she could have found out something about Sir James, without getting hanged before anyone would realize she even needed their help. And if she hadn't been alone, she wouldn't have felt the pressure to work out the situation herself. Everything worked better when they were a team, when they protected each other, when they knew someone else would catch them if they fell.
Sir James was an odd one, though. At first, he had given them no impression that he was a Black Knight. He just didn't seem dangerous enough, or driven; he didn't seem like he'd fit in with the Sheriff's collaboration of traitors. Perhaps he was only the new occupier of Teversal, a gentle man just passing this way; the man who had spoken so politely to her, in her native tongue and called her "my lady". If speaking Arabic in England was rare, then being called "my lady" was an absolute nonoccurrence. There was nothing she had done that he should hold her in such high regard for; she was an outlaw in the forest. Never a "my lady" from anyone! But maybe that was the plan, that he had been forewarned of her presence in Robin's gang, that he was to act peaceful and polite to gain their trust, but in reality, he was allied with the Sheriff and the Black Knights. It fit with the way that as soon as he entered the castle, he changed his attitude. He looked like a completely different man after that. Like he could fit into the Black Knights easily.
Still, Djaq would know the truth after Lucas' letter. And then she might be able to piece things together and tell her friends the truth about Sir James. For now, all she could do was warn them to be careful around him. Careful about what they said, and careful not to put themselves at his mercy. It always paid to be cautious, no matter who or what they were dealing with. Unless Lucas was not going to help her either, but she reckoned she already had enough information on Sir James to work out if there was a contradiction between her knowledge and his message. So if the young squire was being untruthful, she'd know, and know that she could no longer trust him.
Maybe if she hadn't put herself in such a dangerous position, and following back from that, if she hadn't felt forced to work on her own, she wouldn't have had to trust the young man. But if the others had been around, they would never have met. She deeply regretted that she had put herself in such a vulnerable position before him; a man she had only just met, she didn't know if she could trust him. They had been forced to trust each other. At first, she had assumed that he had the advantage because he could have called the castle guards at any time, but he never did. And he had trusted her to disarm him, even though it became clear he valued his life so much. She shouldn't have trusted him so easily, so what was it in her that bade her to so strongly?
He had certainly caught her off-guard by calling her pretty. Did he really think that? Or was he just trying to flatter her, and make her do what he wanted? There wasn't many men who talked to her like that. Either they didn't think it, or knew that it was better not to patronize her that way. In fact... The last man to flatter her like that was Allan. He seemed to like to tease her that way sometimes, and he was bold enough to face her like that, unlike some of the others. She missed it, missed him, more than she could admit. Allan could never be replaced and everything had to change now he was gone. So Djaq had quietened, and kept to herself, always observant, until things settled in the camp and she could find her space in the group again. As far as Djaq could see, though, they were still in the process. But no matter how many times Robin advised it, forgetting him was not so simple and so easy. He had been their friend for such a long time, and it felt wrong to shun him, especially when that was the time he needed them most.
Once again, Djaq found herself wanting to clear her mind, and wishing she didn't think at all. She quickly picked up another arrow, hoping to bury all concentration in this work. She definitely didn't want to think about Allan. Robin was right, no matter how difficult, forgetting him was the best way. Even if she could shun the man from her thoughts while she was alone or in the forest, they only had to go to Nottingham to see the Sheriff parading the man round like his prize, won or lured to their allegiance. Djaq stopped again, pulling the chord tight in her fingers until it was pressing uncomfortably into them. She refused to let herself think about him. There were other things to think about and distract herself with. Like once again processing yesterday's events in Nottingham.
She hated herself as she watched herself reacting again. She couldn't bear to think of how she had acted so weak, and let herself be so vulnerable. Lucas had no idea what it was like to be treated as someone's property instead of a person. It was demeaning to have no say in every action one had to undertake that day. Djaq had had a lucky escape, thanks to her new friends in England. As awful as that fate would have been for such an independent person, what he had suggested was far worse. It was no secret that crusaders caught beautiful Saracen women for their pleasures back home. It was inconsiderate and abhorrent, utterly against human values. But then, most crusaders didn't see Saracens as human at all; they couldn't kill her people as passionately, brutally and thoughtlessly if they did. If they had any spark of human kindness, they wouldn't sell them as slaves. They had to know what was waiting for those they so callously sold; for the men, hard labour, but for the women, a life of humiliating sexual domination. There was nothing worse. It would have been better to have died taking her last stand than to be subjected to that. And as lucky an escape she had achieved at the mines in Nottinghamshire, there was nothing luckier than the escape she had already given herself. She could not have let her captors find out she was not the man she pretended to be, for her own protection.
Sometimes it still was too much to be Djaq all the time. Her friends knew her as strong and brave, equable and composed, rational and knowledgeable Djaq. But the facade was slipping, and so was she, she worried. No, Djaq was no mask, even if the name was borrowed. Djaq was her, but no matter how much it was her nature and no false pretense, it felt so pressured and claustrophobic right now. Not a facade, she corrected herself, it was a reputation. That didn't make it any easier to take a break from. In fact, it made it harder. Harder because the very friends who would help her were the same people for whom she had to maintain that reputation. It made her thankful that it was Lucas in front of whom she had been so weak; a young squire, sent as a messenger, probably wouldn't even be in Nottingham much past Michaelmas. He was hardly important, and she could easily not see him again and not have to face up to her lapse.
That wasn't right, though, because she could feel that she did want to see him again. It surely couldn't be because she wanted to see his endearing nervous smile and listen to his sweet but cheeky comments again, could it? There was no sense in that. He did have a pretty face, she couldn't deny, and such big blue eyes. Djaq took a breath. What was it with Englishmen and their beautiful blue eyes? They just seemed so innocent, so adorable. It would be her downfall if she allowed every blue-eyed man to take her trust at the first time of asking, though. There were too many, and innocent eyes did not an innocent man make. Lucas still had to prove himself.
If he proved himself trustworthy, and the contents of his note would be testament to that, then she felt compelled to keep his information exchange open. He seemed to have information from the castle, and was low enough in rank to not be noticed. As were many of the servants, but they generally weren't talkative much about anything they knew: they were probably too scared of possible repercussions or kept too busy with duties to find out much at all.
Lucas was scared for his life, too, but maybe that was the best way to assure his assistance. Perhaps he would continue to fetch her information if she promised him protection. She made up her mind to write him a note, and personally make sure he received it, asking for more information, offering protection. The words already started to form in her mind. For a second, she considered including that she was a friend of Robin Hood, but that wasn't a wise idea. It might scare the young man to think that he might be in such danger, and even if he was braver than that, it wasn't wise to put him in more danger than necessary by leaving him with a letter that implicated his association with an outlaw. That was the very reason she couldn't tell him her name. He would probably assume that she couldn't trust him yet, which was a reasonable assumption. The whole situation could be a trap - it was he who had insisted on leaving the note someplace. It was a distinct possibility that she could be arrested by the castle guards the minute she retrieved it. Especially if he had found out she was an outlaw, he could gain some reward from the Sheriff by turning her in. She'd have to plan very carefully if she didn't want to fall foul of such a callous betrayal.
All the same, Djaq so wanted the boy to be honourable and wanted him to make a good contact. Partly because she wanted to prove to the others she had been being useful with her time in Nottingham, procuring help that would benefit them all. Only, it was mostly because she didn't want to believe that every blue-eyed, slightly cheeky young man was a traitor, with his loyalties sold to the highest bidder. If she could have had a second chance to persuade Allan to apologize and stay with the gang, she would. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to get a second chance for Allan. So she had to try this time for a chance for Lucas' sake.