FIC: "A Life Less Ordinary" (Chapter 11)
Title: A Life Less Ordinary
Fandom: Robin Hood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Outlaws, Marian, Carter, Guy, Sheriff. Canon pairings.
Setting: Post-season 2
Spoilers: 2.13
Summary: They’d saved the King, but had they saved England? An alternate season 3 fic.
Disclaimer: The title comes from the Danny Boyle film, the rest belongs to the BBC
Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10
In this chapter: The gang are finally reunited.
A/N: Thanks to ladykate63 for looking over the Guy scenes for me and her insights.
Chapter 11: Getting the Band Back Together
English Channel
Carter inhaled the sea air deeply, revelling in the crisp wind blowing through his hair and whistling around his ears. Perhaps it was his imagination, but it tasted like home; it tasted like England. The cliffs which stood tall in the distance were certainly not his imagination, the white chalk unmistakable even though he had never before lain eyes upon them.
None of them had sailed from Dover, for the route to the Holy Land left from Portsmouth, stopping briefly in Italy before crossing the Mediterranean to Palestine. Their return journey, however, had included the detour to Bavaria, and so their path back to England had been through France and across the Channel from Calais. They had briefly considered visiting Aquitaine with the hopes of an audience with Queen Eleanor, to give her firsthand the news of her son. Marian, particularly, had seemed torn on the subject, but had eventually told them that it was too far out of their way, that they had delayed long enough and needed to return to England to further the cause there. And as had become their habit, they acquiesced to Marian’s decision.
She was beside him on the deck of the merchant ship on which they had purchased passage, her eyes too on the white cliffs of Dover. Carter was never quite sure of what Marian was thinking, as she hid her emotions well, but her sheer joy and relief at the first glimpse of England was plain upon her face. He thought that she may weep a little (Carter certainly felt like doing do) but her eyes remained dry even as they fixed themselves on the horizon.
Will and Djaq stood next to Marian and they also did not speak, although Carter saw Will take Djaq’s hand and squeeze it tightly. Tuck was below, and Carter was at least pleased that he was for once not imposing himself on their party.
“I never thought I’d see home again,” Carter said to break the silence, for he needed to share his joy with them. After the Sheriff had stabbed him, and Carter had felt his life bleed away as his blood soaked into the sand, he had faced the reality of his own death, alone and so far from home. When Djaq had found him, he had been so far gone he’d thought she was Saint Michael, her short hair silhouetted by the setting sun.
“None of us did,” Marian replied softly, and Carter thought perhaps her thoughts were aligned with his. “They are beautiful,” she added, her eyes on the cliffs which grew closer with the cresting of each wave which was broken by the bow of the ship.
“I imagine Sherwood will look even more beautiful,” Carter said, a smile forming as he thought of the dense green trees, the flowing streams and the dark brown earth of the forest which he had missed so much amid the sand and dry, hot air of the Holy Land. During his weeks of convalescence, he’d dreamed of the woods where he’d found a reason to live again, where Robin had helped him unbury his heart. He found that will once more in his sickbed, and now at the sight of his homeland he ached with happiness. .
“Yes,” Marian agreed, but she seemed less certain about it. “I hope…that everything works out.”
Carter surmised she must be anxious about returning to a land where those in power thought her dead and would no doubt try to rectify the situation when they found out she was not. “At least you won’t have to worry about Gisborne,” he interjected, trying to comfort her.
Marian looked at him quizzically. “Why is that?”
Carter blinked. “Well...” he began, “I would assume Robin has taken care of him.”
Marian visibly bristled. “I hope not.”
Carter looked over at Will and Djaq, but they seemed unsurprised by this information. They knew Marian better than Carter did, who still found the lady an enigma. At times she seemed serene and level-headed, but he still remembered the fierceness of her right hook. “Robin believes him to be your murderer,” he reminded her.
“Robin doesn’t believe in killing,” she replied somewhat shortly. “You know that. I would hate to think he would abandon his principles to avenge me.”
He saw Will and Djaq exchange a very brief, knowing look, which did not go unnoticed by Marian.
“What is it?” she asked them.
Will turned away and cleared his throat, but Djaq kept her eyes on Marian, something like pity in her gaze. Carter leaned forward slightly, eager himself to hear what she had to say. Robin, after all, had been the one who preached against revenge, and had himself helped Carter realise that it was not the correct way to remember his slain brother. But his blame had been misdirected at Robin - Gisborne was actually guilty and so to Carter his death would be righteous, not revenge.
“In the cave, after Gisborne stabbed you…the first time,” Djaq began after a long silence, “we thought you were dead.”
Marian furrowed her brow, but made no comment and allowed Djaq to speak.
“The traitor Pitts had led the Sheriff right to us,” she continued evenly. “And there were dozens of guards who had us surrounded,” Djaq continued. “Will and Allan were…not yet back to camp.”
Will cleared his throat again and looked slightly ashamed, but Djaq ignored him.
“It was only myself, John and Much…we thought we were making a last stand,” she told them. “And then Robin came out of the cave and he…he lost control.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, clearly distressed by the memory. “He slaughtered them, Marian - we all did,” she added. “I had never seen him like that - like a soldier, like he had no soul, or conscience. As if he didn’t care if he died, too.”
“Oh.” Marian was clearly troubled by the information.
“He wasn’t like that in the Holy Land,” Will spoke up, clearly trying to reassure her. “When he thought you had died. He was determined to keep fighting.”
“So…I do not think he would have killed Gisborne,” Djaq added.
Carter was more confused than ever. “I do not understand why you are so concerned about Gisborne,” he said, exasperated. “Do you not want the man who has almost killed you - twice - to be brought to justice?” he asked Marian.
“Revenge isn’t justice,” Marian said very quietly. She looked more disturbed than ever, a small frown marring her face and her eyes glassy as she looked straight ahead, still fixed on the cliffs which drew ever closer.
“You have a forgiving heart, Marian,” he said finally, astounded by her kindness towards a man who had taken so much from her.
She was silent for several long moments, and did not seem pleased by the compliment. “Not really,” she said finally, before retreating back into the hold of the ship.
Carter looked to Will and Djaq for an explanation, but found none.
**********************************
London
The streets of London were dark, but that seemed to suit Guy. He knew he cut an imposing figure and so did not fear the bandits and thieves who lurked in the narrow alleyways as he passed by. The stench of the city still bothered him and despite many weeks he had not gotten used to the cramped housing, the human and animal waste in the streets and the bustle of people who seemed not to care about their surroundings. He was not inexperienced in human suffering or the underbelly of society, but London unnerved him. Guy found himself thinking fondly of Locksley with its mere dozens of small but clean homes and the vague smell of birch from the woods that bordered the village.
It was strange, as he had always thought of Locksley as a mere patch of earth, a name, something to possess. He never really thought he would find a home there, at least not without…
But putting that aside, he realised that he’d been at Locksley almost seven years, longer than he had ever lived anywhere. It meant something more to him than just a part of Hood’s heart that he had taken for his own - it represented the only stability in his entire life. He was not sleeping in another man’s bed, eating his food, looking after his servants; all of those things were Guy’s, now. He had the claim of time upon them.
Guy was lost in thought as wandered the streets, until he found himself once again at Westminster Palace. It had been days since he’d met with Prince John, and his presence had not been requested again. And yet Guy couldn’t bring himself to leave. As much as he disliked London, and missed Nottinghamshire, there was a freedom in the city he had not felt for a long while. To be out from under Vaisey’s thumb had been quite a relief, given him time to clear his head.
The Abbey was across the street, lit dimly by torches around the tall walls and Guy paused momentarily. He imagined the monks inside, attending to their prayers, doing the Lord’s work by simple candlelight. Guy had not been inside a church since his aborted wedding day, although he longed to have the courage to cross the threshold, to have a priest hear his sins and grant absolution. But he knew that it would not be enough - not after all he had done.
He turned away from the church and walked down to the riverbank, until the waters of the Thames lapped quietly against the toes of his boots. It was foolish to think of forgiveness when he had come to the city with murder on his mind.
Prince John had all but forbidden him from killing Vaisey, although how he had known that was Guy’s intent he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he considered it inevitable, given his speech on loyalty, that the lieutenant would always turn on the captain if given enough time. In fact, he Prince’s words had reinforced the turn of Guy’s own mind in the recent months.
Loyalty is a falsehood which will be broken as soon as one party stops being of use to the other the Prince had said. And what use had Vaisey been to him? He’d given him Locksley, and power to a certain extent, membership among the Black Knights. But he had also belittled him, made him look foolish in front of others and forced him to go against his instincts and conscience more than once. Vaisey was a means to an end, and he felt as if he had finally reached that end.
Guy wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if he’d killed the Sheriff when Marian had asked him to. Would he be in the Vaisey’s position now, in control of the north, Marian as his bride? But of course, that had been a trick, a ruse to get Guy to do what she could not.
He’d buried his grief and guilt at Marian’s death deep within him in an effort not to feel - all that he allowed himself was bitter resentment. He could have saved her - saved them both, if she had made a different choice. If she had chosen him. Instead he was no better off than before, still Vaisey’s lackey with no real power of his own, except over the serfs of Locksley who did not need or ask for his help or guidance as their lord. Their love also belonged to another - a selfish, conceited man who played the hero and yet brought destruction upon everyone he met.
Everything, Guy concluded, that had happened could ultimately be lain at Hood’s door. He had seduced Marian with his charm and smiles and clever words, had preyed upon her good nature, had twisted her kindness and sympathy for the poor into serving his own ends. Guy was angry at Marian for rejecting him, for betraying him, for not loving him, but he hated Hood for corrupting her.
When he’d first returned from the Holy Land, Guy’s grief and guilt had been palpable, and he would have let Hood kill him, to put him out of his misery. But the months had passed and Guy had replaced his grief with anger, with a drive to obtain the power he’d sacrificed so much for and had not yet been able to achieve. If he had the chance to kill Hood, to exact revenge upon him for turning Marian into a weapon against him, for putting her in the situation where she’d faced Guy down in Acre, he would take it, and hope that it would be enough.
That’s all he had left. That, and the hope of becoming more than just a lord of a small northern shire, more than just a Sheriff’s man.
For Prince John had called him Sir Guy, almost with respect, and even when he had laughed at him it was not with derision. John’s laugh had almost seemed like a reward for amusing him, an encouragement to further elicit his good grace. If Guy was to find true power and influence, it would be through Prince John, in ensuring that he became King and knew Guy’s part in helping him to the throne.
It was almost - almost - with pleasure that Guy gazed out across the dark water before him. If one stood by the river for long enough, he reflected, it may change its course. And he was intent that it would change in his direction.
*****************
Sherwood Forest
Their gang of five walked through Sherwood in silence, keenly aware that they had no knowledge of the state of affairs in Nottingham or the forest. It was Robin Hood’s turf, so to speak, but that did not eliminate the danger of running foul of some less than savoury outlaws or even the Sheriff’s patrol guards who occasionally raided the woods.
Will knew Sherwood better than any of them, and so he led the party, Djaq at his side. Marian was behind them, flanked by Tuck and Carter, both of whom, he noticed, already had their swords drawn, just in case. Marian herself seemed agitated, fingers running across the string of her bow which was slung across her shoulder, eyes darting into the trees. Will could feel Djaq’s excitement which matched his own, the anticipation that they would be home amongst their friends again, with Robin, Much and John and most especially Allan.
And yet he and Djaq were returning together. He glanced sideways, but as ever, she seemed determined and focussed. If she was apprehensive about the upcoming reunion, she did not show it.
“It feels good to be back in the forest again,” he murmured to her, noting her smile even as she kept her eyes on the path ahead.
“Sometimes I feel as if it could not have been a whole year since we last saw it,” she replied just as softly. “And yet other times it feels like a lifetime.”
“A year.” Sometimes Will didn’t quite believe it himself. “It was the 14th of October last week” he added after a moment.
Djaq glanced very quickly at him, smiled again, and then looked away. “I noted the date.”
“You didn’t say anything?” But Will was pleased, not accusatory. It had been one of the happiest days of his life; hearing Djaq tell him that she loved him. But he’d felt foolish to bring the anniversary of the date up, they were not, after all, married. It was something that they never discussed, content just to be together with no expectations or restrictions of a standard courtship. They were not a standard couple. That, and to be married under either one of their religions one of them would likely need to convert. Will would never ask that of Djaq and in truth he did not know enough about her faith to make the decision for himself.
“I do not need a date to remind me of that night,” Djaq answered after a brief silence.
Will smiled. “Neither do I.”
The rustling of leaves silenced them both and Will halted, drawing his axe and holding it ready in his hand. Beside him, Djaq silently drew her sword and pointed to the dense bushes to the north-east of their position. Will glanced behind him and saw both Carter and Tuck creep towards the direction Djaq indicated as Marian notched an arrow in her bow.
There was another noise from the opposite direction and Will spun around, placing himself between it and Marian. They were still a way from the camp and so could not be sure who was lurking in the bushes. But it appeared they had them surrounded, and Will heard one final noise from the dense branches of a nearby oak tree.
“Show yourselves!” Tuck called out, brandishing his sword.
“If you insist!” came a familiar-sounding voice, and in an instant Robin had dropped from the oak tree, drawn back an arrow in his bow and pointed it directly at Tuck’s head.
By the time Will had turned back around, Little John, Allan and Much had appeared from the surrounding shrubbery, each carrying their own weapons, ready to strike.
Allan was the first to lower his bow. “It’s you!” he exclaimed. “Bloody hell, we thought you were the Sheriff’s men!”
“What gave us away?” Djaq asked wryly, sheathing her sword.
“We’ve been tracking them,” Much explained, looking at them one by one in what only could be described as wonder. “They can’t have been more than ten miles away and we couldn’t exactly see clearly in those bushes.”
“It’s you!” Allan exclaimed again, and before Will knew it he pushed roughly past Carter and ran to them, almost knocking both he and Djaq over in a fierce embrace. “We got the message from Lardner, but…”
Will returned the hug with affection, patting Allan on the back. “It’s us,” he confirmed.
He looked over at the rest of the group, however, and saw that they were all standing around awkwardly, as if they did not have Allan’s courage. And then Will realised they were looking at Marian; all waiting to embrace her but not daring to do so until Robin had the chance.
Robin had lowered his bow, although it was still grasped in his hand. Will noticed that his knuckles gripped the curve very tightly, and his face was pale. He was staring at Marian as if he was seeing a ghost, and perhaps in his mind, he was. Tuck stepped away to clear the path to Marian although Robin did not acknowledge the action nor move at all. Much’s eyes flickered between Robin and Marian and Will and Djaq, his feet making small contradictory movements, as if he wanted to go to all of them at once. Little John leant against his staff and shot a quizzical glance at Tuck. Carter brushed at his robes from where Allan had pushed him in the dirt, and seemed annoyed and yet interested in how the scene was going to play out. Will sought Djaq’s hand and it found his immediately, squeezing his fingers tightly.
They were all silent as they waited for something to happen, unable or unwilling to intervene. But Robin stared at Marian, and Marian, who had put the arrow back in her quiver and strung the bow across her back, stared back at him, as if neither of them were capable of making the first move.
Eventually, Robin swallowed heavily and took the slow steps over to where she stood, stopping less than a foot away from her. Marian looked up at him and smiled ever so slightly but Robin did not return it. He brought up his free hand and hesitantly traced her cheek with his fingers, as if checking to make sure she wasn’t an apparition.
Marian’s smile widened. “Hello, Robin,” she said softly.
And quite suddenly it was as if the dam broke. Robin’s bow dropped to the ground and he all but collapsed into her arms, his face burying itself in her shoulder, hands holding her tightly about the waist and his body visibly shaking with what could only be assumed were sobs of happiness and relief. Marian closed her eyes and her hands cradled Robin’s head, stroking the hair at the base of his neck.
The whole thing suddenly felt very voyeuristic. Will cleared his throat and looked away. “We should go,” he told Djaq softly, and she nodded although he noticed her eyes were very bright and she blinked several times rapidly.
“Yes…yes,” Much spoke up as he saw Will, Djaq and Allan begin to move off. “Come on, you lot, back to camp.” He nudged Carter along. “Oh, it’s you Carter,” he said to him, halting momentarily to give him a pat on the back and a handshake before nudging him again. “And who are you?” he asked Tuck accusingly. “Oh, never mind,” he said before Tuck had the chance to answer. “These two need their privacy, camp is that way.” And he gave Tuck the same nudge, herding them all in the direction of the camp.
Little John followed them, and waited a discreet distance before enveloping first Will in a firm embrace, and then Djaq, clearly unable to keep the grin off his face. “It hasn’t been the same without the both of you,” he told them earnestly, and held one of each of their hands in his for a long moment before Much appeared beside them.
“Alright, John,” he said with exasperation. “Don’t crush them.” And he removed John’s hands, and although he had been squeezing Will’s fingers a bit tightly, Will didn’t care in the slightest. Much gave Djaq a very long, fierce hug and whispered something to her in Arabic, to which she laughed softly. “Will,” Much hugged him next, patting him heartily on the back, “so good to see you.”
“Miss us, did you?” Djaq asked.
“You have no idea,” Allan rejoined them, breaking away from his conversation with Carter and putting one arm around each of them. “The gang is back together, as it should be.”
“With some new additions, I see,” Much again looked at Tuck suspiciously and Tuck, true to his way, smiled cryptically and said nothing.
“It’s a long story,” Will told them. “We’ll tell you back at camp.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Allan, still with his arms around them, urged them on. “I don’t think we’ll see Robin and Marian for a while.” He chuckled to himself. “I guess we’ll have to wait to say ‘ello.”
Will smiled and chanced a glance behind them. He could still see Robin and Marian in the distance between the trees, locked in the same tight embrace. He turned and left them to their privacy, allowing Allan to lead them back to camp, listening to his comforting chatter. A sense of peace and utter contentment filled him as everything seemed to be as it should.
They were home.
Fandom: Robin Hood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Outlaws, Marian, Carter, Guy, Sheriff. Canon pairings.
Setting: Post-season 2
Spoilers: 2.13
Summary: They’d saved the King, but had they saved England? An alternate season 3 fic.
Disclaimer: The title comes from the Danny Boyle film, the rest belongs to the BBC
Prologue I Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4I Chapter 5 I Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10
In this chapter: The gang are finally reunited.
A/N: Thanks to ladykate63 for looking over the Guy scenes for me and her insights.
Chapter 11: Getting the Band Back Together
English Channel
Carter inhaled the sea air deeply, revelling in the crisp wind blowing through his hair and whistling around his ears. Perhaps it was his imagination, but it tasted like home; it tasted like England. The cliffs which stood tall in the distance were certainly not his imagination, the white chalk unmistakable even though he had never before lain eyes upon them.
None of them had sailed from Dover, for the route to the Holy Land left from Portsmouth, stopping briefly in Italy before crossing the Mediterranean to Palestine. Their return journey, however, had included the detour to Bavaria, and so their path back to England had been through France and across the Channel from Calais. They had briefly considered visiting Aquitaine with the hopes of an audience with Queen Eleanor, to give her firsthand the news of her son. Marian, particularly, had seemed torn on the subject, but had eventually told them that it was too far out of their way, that they had delayed long enough and needed to return to England to further the cause there. And as had become their habit, they acquiesced to Marian’s decision.
She was beside him on the deck of the merchant ship on which they had purchased passage, her eyes too on the white cliffs of Dover. Carter was never quite sure of what Marian was thinking, as she hid her emotions well, but her sheer joy and relief at the first glimpse of England was plain upon her face. He thought that she may weep a little (Carter certainly felt like doing do) but her eyes remained dry even as they fixed themselves on the horizon.
Will and Djaq stood next to Marian and they also did not speak, although Carter saw Will take Djaq’s hand and squeeze it tightly. Tuck was below, and Carter was at least pleased that he was for once not imposing himself on their party.
“I never thought I’d see home again,” Carter said to break the silence, for he needed to share his joy with them. After the Sheriff had stabbed him, and Carter had felt his life bleed away as his blood soaked into the sand, he had faced the reality of his own death, alone and so far from home. When Djaq had found him, he had been so far gone he’d thought she was Saint Michael, her short hair silhouetted by the setting sun.
“None of us did,” Marian replied softly, and Carter thought perhaps her thoughts were aligned with his. “They are beautiful,” she added, her eyes on the cliffs which grew closer with the cresting of each wave which was broken by the bow of the ship.
“I imagine Sherwood will look even more beautiful,” Carter said, a smile forming as he thought of the dense green trees, the flowing streams and the dark brown earth of the forest which he had missed so much amid the sand and dry, hot air of the Holy Land. During his weeks of convalescence, he’d dreamed of the woods where he’d found a reason to live again, where Robin had helped him unbury his heart. He found that will once more in his sickbed, and now at the sight of his homeland he ached with happiness. .
“Yes,” Marian agreed, but she seemed less certain about it. “I hope…that everything works out.”
Carter surmised she must be anxious about returning to a land where those in power thought her dead and would no doubt try to rectify the situation when they found out she was not. “At least you won’t have to worry about Gisborne,” he interjected, trying to comfort her.
Marian looked at him quizzically. “Why is that?”
Carter blinked. “Well...” he began, “I would assume Robin has taken care of him.”
Marian visibly bristled. “I hope not.”
Carter looked over at Will and Djaq, but they seemed unsurprised by this information. They knew Marian better than Carter did, who still found the lady an enigma. At times she seemed serene and level-headed, but he still remembered the fierceness of her right hook. “Robin believes him to be your murderer,” he reminded her.
“Robin doesn’t believe in killing,” she replied somewhat shortly. “You know that. I would hate to think he would abandon his principles to avenge me.”
He saw Will and Djaq exchange a very brief, knowing look, which did not go unnoticed by Marian.
“What is it?” she asked them.
Will turned away and cleared his throat, but Djaq kept her eyes on Marian, something like pity in her gaze. Carter leaned forward slightly, eager himself to hear what she had to say. Robin, after all, had been the one who preached against revenge, and had himself helped Carter realise that it was not the correct way to remember his slain brother. But his blame had been misdirected at Robin - Gisborne was actually guilty and so to Carter his death would be righteous, not revenge.
“In the cave, after Gisborne stabbed you…the first time,” Djaq began after a long silence, “we thought you were dead.”
Marian furrowed her brow, but made no comment and allowed Djaq to speak.
“The traitor Pitts had led the Sheriff right to us,” she continued evenly. “And there were dozens of guards who had us surrounded,” Djaq continued. “Will and Allan were…not yet back to camp.”
Will cleared his throat again and looked slightly ashamed, but Djaq ignored him.
“It was only myself, John and Much…we thought we were making a last stand,” she told them. “And then Robin came out of the cave and he…he lost control.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, clearly distressed by the memory. “He slaughtered them, Marian - we all did,” she added. “I had never seen him like that - like a soldier, like he had no soul, or conscience. As if he didn’t care if he died, too.”
“Oh.” Marian was clearly troubled by the information.
“He wasn’t like that in the Holy Land,” Will spoke up, clearly trying to reassure her. “When he thought you had died. He was determined to keep fighting.”
“So…I do not think he would have killed Gisborne,” Djaq added.
Carter was more confused than ever. “I do not understand why you are so concerned about Gisborne,” he said, exasperated. “Do you not want the man who has almost killed you - twice - to be brought to justice?” he asked Marian.
“Revenge isn’t justice,” Marian said very quietly. She looked more disturbed than ever, a small frown marring her face and her eyes glassy as she looked straight ahead, still fixed on the cliffs which drew ever closer.
“You have a forgiving heart, Marian,” he said finally, astounded by her kindness towards a man who had taken so much from her.
She was silent for several long moments, and did not seem pleased by the compliment. “Not really,” she said finally, before retreating back into the hold of the ship.
Carter looked to Will and Djaq for an explanation, but found none.
**********************************
London
The streets of London were dark, but that seemed to suit Guy. He knew he cut an imposing figure and so did not fear the bandits and thieves who lurked in the narrow alleyways as he passed by. The stench of the city still bothered him and despite many weeks he had not gotten used to the cramped housing, the human and animal waste in the streets and the bustle of people who seemed not to care about their surroundings. He was not inexperienced in human suffering or the underbelly of society, but London unnerved him. Guy found himself thinking fondly of Locksley with its mere dozens of small but clean homes and the vague smell of birch from the woods that bordered the village.
It was strange, as he had always thought of Locksley as a mere patch of earth, a name, something to possess. He never really thought he would find a home there, at least not without…
But putting that aside, he realised that he’d been at Locksley almost seven years, longer than he had ever lived anywhere. It meant something more to him than just a part of Hood’s heart that he had taken for his own - it represented the only stability in his entire life. He was not sleeping in another man’s bed, eating his food, looking after his servants; all of those things were Guy’s, now. He had the claim of time upon them.
Guy was lost in thought as wandered the streets, until he found himself once again at Westminster Palace. It had been days since he’d met with Prince John, and his presence had not been requested again. And yet Guy couldn’t bring himself to leave. As much as he disliked London, and missed Nottinghamshire, there was a freedom in the city he had not felt for a long while. To be out from under Vaisey’s thumb had been quite a relief, given him time to clear his head.
The Abbey was across the street, lit dimly by torches around the tall walls and Guy paused momentarily. He imagined the monks inside, attending to their prayers, doing the Lord’s work by simple candlelight. Guy had not been inside a church since his aborted wedding day, although he longed to have the courage to cross the threshold, to have a priest hear his sins and grant absolution. But he knew that it would not be enough - not after all he had done.
He turned away from the church and walked down to the riverbank, until the waters of the Thames lapped quietly against the toes of his boots. It was foolish to think of forgiveness when he had come to the city with murder on his mind.
Prince John had all but forbidden him from killing Vaisey, although how he had known that was Guy’s intent he wasn’t sure. Perhaps he considered it inevitable, given his speech on loyalty, that the lieutenant would always turn on the captain if given enough time. In fact, he Prince’s words had reinforced the turn of Guy’s own mind in the recent months.
Loyalty is a falsehood which will be broken as soon as one party stops being of use to the other the Prince had said. And what use had Vaisey been to him? He’d given him Locksley, and power to a certain extent, membership among the Black Knights. But he had also belittled him, made him look foolish in front of others and forced him to go against his instincts and conscience more than once. Vaisey was a means to an end, and he felt as if he had finally reached that end.
Guy wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened if he’d killed the Sheriff when Marian had asked him to. Would he be in the Vaisey’s position now, in control of the north, Marian as his bride? But of course, that had been a trick, a ruse to get Guy to do what she could not.
He’d buried his grief and guilt at Marian’s death deep within him in an effort not to feel - all that he allowed himself was bitter resentment. He could have saved her - saved them both, if she had made a different choice. If she had chosen him. Instead he was no better off than before, still Vaisey’s lackey with no real power of his own, except over the serfs of Locksley who did not need or ask for his help or guidance as their lord. Their love also belonged to another - a selfish, conceited man who played the hero and yet brought destruction upon everyone he met.
Everything, Guy concluded, that had happened could ultimately be lain at Hood’s door. He had seduced Marian with his charm and smiles and clever words, had preyed upon her good nature, had twisted her kindness and sympathy for the poor into serving his own ends. Guy was angry at Marian for rejecting him, for betraying him, for not loving him, but he hated Hood for corrupting her.
When he’d first returned from the Holy Land, Guy’s grief and guilt had been palpable, and he would have let Hood kill him, to put him out of his misery. But the months had passed and Guy had replaced his grief with anger, with a drive to obtain the power he’d sacrificed so much for and had not yet been able to achieve. If he had the chance to kill Hood, to exact revenge upon him for turning Marian into a weapon against him, for putting her in the situation where she’d faced Guy down in Acre, he would take it, and hope that it would be enough.
That’s all he had left. That, and the hope of becoming more than just a lord of a small northern shire, more than just a Sheriff’s man.
For Prince John had called him Sir Guy, almost with respect, and even when he had laughed at him it was not with derision. John’s laugh had almost seemed like a reward for amusing him, an encouragement to further elicit his good grace. If Guy was to find true power and influence, it would be through Prince John, in ensuring that he became King and knew Guy’s part in helping him to the throne.
It was almost - almost - with pleasure that Guy gazed out across the dark water before him. If one stood by the river for long enough, he reflected, it may change its course. And he was intent that it would change in his direction.
*****************
Sherwood Forest
Their gang of five walked through Sherwood in silence, keenly aware that they had no knowledge of the state of affairs in Nottingham or the forest. It was Robin Hood’s turf, so to speak, but that did not eliminate the danger of running foul of some less than savoury outlaws or even the Sheriff’s patrol guards who occasionally raided the woods.
Will knew Sherwood better than any of them, and so he led the party, Djaq at his side. Marian was behind them, flanked by Tuck and Carter, both of whom, he noticed, already had their swords drawn, just in case. Marian herself seemed agitated, fingers running across the string of her bow which was slung across her shoulder, eyes darting into the trees. Will could feel Djaq’s excitement which matched his own, the anticipation that they would be home amongst their friends again, with Robin, Much and John and most especially Allan.
And yet he and Djaq were returning together. He glanced sideways, but as ever, she seemed determined and focussed. If she was apprehensive about the upcoming reunion, she did not show it.
“It feels good to be back in the forest again,” he murmured to her, noting her smile even as she kept her eyes on the path ahead.
“Sometimes I feel as if it could not have been a whole year since we last saw it,” she replied just as softly. “And yet other times it feels like a lifetime.”
“A year.” Sometimes Will didn’t quite believe it himself. “It was the 14th of October last week” he added after a moment.
Djaq glanced very quickly at him, smiled again, and then looked away. “I noted the date.”
“You didn’t say anything?” But Will was pleased, not accusatory. It had been one of the happiest days of his life; hearing Djaq tell him that she loved him. But he’d felt foolish to bring the anniversary of the date up, they were not, after all, married. It was something that they never discussed, content just to be together with no expectations or restrictions of a standard courtship. They were not a standard couple. That, and to be married under either one of their religions one of them would likely need to convert. Will would never ask that of Djaq and in truth he did not know enough about her faith to make the decision for himself.
“I do not need a date to remind me of that night,” Djaq answered after a brief silence.
Will smiled. “Neither do I.”
The rustling of leaves silenced them both and Will halted, drawing his axe and holding it ready in his hand. Beside him, Djaq silently drew her sword and pointed to the dense bushes to the north-east of their position. Will glanced behind him and saw both Carter and Tuck creep towards the direction Djaq indicated as Marian notched an arrow in her bow.
There was another noise from the opposite direction and Will spun around, placing himself between it and Marian. They were still a way from the camp and so could not be sure who was lurking in the bushes. But it appeared they had them surrounded, and Will heard one final noise from the dense branches of a nearby oak tree.
“Show yourselves!” Tuck called out, brandishing his sword.
“If you insist!” came a familiar-sounding voice, and in an instant Robin had dropped from the oak tree, drawn back an arrow in his bow and pointed it directly at Tuck’s head.
By the time Will had turned back around, Little John, Allan and Much had appeared from the surrounding shrubbery, each carrying their own weapons, ready to strike.
Allan was the first to lower his bow. “It’s you!” he exclaimed. “Bloody hell, we thought you were the Sheriff’s men!”
“What gave us away?” Djaq asked wryly, sheathing her sword.
“We’ve been tracking them,” Much explained, looking at them one by one in what only could be described as wonder. “They can’t have been more than ten miles away and we couldn’t exactly see clearly in those bushes.”
“It’s you!” Allan exclaimed again, and before Will knew it he pushed roughly past Carter and ran to them, almost knocking both he and Djaq over in a fierce embrace. “We got the message from Lardner, but…”
Will returned the hug with affection, patting Allan on the back. “It’s us,” he confirmed.
He looked over at the rest of the group, however, and saw that they were all standing around awkwardly, as if they did not have Allan’s courage. And then Will realised they were looking at Marian; all waiting to embrace her but not daring to do so until Robin had the chance.
Robin had lowered his bow, although it was still grasped in his hand. Will noticed that his knuckles gripped the curve very tightly, and his face was pale. He was staring at Marian as if he was seeing a ghost, and perhaps in his mind, he was. Tuck stepped away to clear the path to Marian although Robin did not acknowledge the action nor move at all. Much’s eyes flickered between Robin and Marian and Will and Djaq, his feet making small contradictory movements, as if he wanted to go to all of them at once. Little John leant against his staff and shot a quizzical glance at Tuck. Carter brushed at his robes from where Allan had pushed him in the dirt, and seemed annoyed and yet interested in how the scene was going to play out. Will sought Djaq’s hand and it found his immediately, squeezing his fingers tightly.
They were all silent as they waited for something to happen, unable or unwilling to intervene. But Robin stared at Marian, and Marian, who had put the arrow back in her quiver and strung the bow across her back, stared back at him, as if neither of them were capable of making the first move.
Eventually, Robin swallowed heavily and took the slow steps over to where she stood, stopping less than a foot away from her. Marian looked up at him and smiled ever so slightly but Robin did not return it. He brought up his free hand and hesitantly traced her cheek with his fingers, as if checking to make sure she wasn’t an apparition.
Marian’s smile widened. “Hello, Robin,” she said softly.
And quite suddenly it was as if the dam broke. Robin’s bow dropped to the ground and he all but collapsed into her arms, his face burying itself in her shoulder, hands holding her tightly about the waist and his body visibly shaking with what could only be assumed were sobs of happiness and relief. Marian closed her eyes and her hands cradled Robin’s head, stroking the hair at the base of his neck.
The whole thing suddenly felt very voyeuristic. Will cleared his throat and looked away. “We should go,” he told Djaq softly, and she nodded although he noticed her eyes were very bright and she blinked several times rapidly.
“Yes…yes,” Much spoke up as he saw Will, Djaq and Allan begin to move off. “Come on, you lot, back to camp.” He nudged Carter along. “Oh, it’s you Carter,” he said to him, halting momentarily to give him a pat on the back and a handshake before nudging him again. “And who are you?” he asked Tuck accusingly. “Oh, never mind,” he said before Tuck had the chance to answer. “These two need their privacy, camp is that way.” And he gave Tuck the same nudge, herding them all in the direction of the camp.
Little John followed them, and waited a discreet distance before enveloping first Will in a firm embrace, and then Djaq, clearly unable to keep the grin off his face. “It hasn’t been the same without the both of you,” he told them earnestly, and held one of each of their hands in his for a long moment before Much appeared beside them.
“Alright, John,” he said with exasperation. “Don’t crush them.” And he removed John’s hands, and although he had been squeezing Will’s fingers a bit tightly, Will didn’t care in the slightest. Much gave Djaq a very long, fierce hug and whispered something to her in Arabic, to which she laughed softly. “Will,” Much hugged him next, patting him heartily on the back, “so good to see you.”
“Miss us, did you?” Djaq asked.
“You have no idea,” Allan rejoined them, breaking away from his conversation with Carter and putting one arm around each of them. “The gang is back together, as it should be.”
“With some new additions, I see,” Much again looked at Tuck suspiciously and Tuck, true to his way, smiled cryptically and said nothing.
“It’s a long story,” Will told them. “We’ll tell you back at camp.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Allan, still with his arms around them, urged them on. “I don’t think we’ll see Robin and Marian for a while.” He chuckled to himself. “I guess we’ll have to wait to say ‘ello.”
Will smiled and chanced a glance behind them. He could still see Robin and Marian in the distance between the trees, locked in the same tight embrace. He turned and left them to their privacy, allowing Allan to lead them back to camp, listening to his comforting chatter. A sense of peace and utter contentment filled him as everything seemed to be as it should.
They were home.