FIC: "A Life Less Ordinary" Chapter 14.2 (Robin Hood)
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 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13.1
Locksley
It was mid-morning when they visited Locksley, and Marian was able to see Tuck at work. He was wearing his Hospitaller robes, which naturally drew people to him out of curiosity or respect, while Marian hung back, hood drawn to shadow her eyes, thankful that few seemed to pay attention to her while Tuck was there.
Will had freshly carved a new tag with the Locksley symbol that morning so Tuck could use it to convince the villagers he could be trusted. Marian had argued that her presence should have been sufficient, but Robin had asked her not to reveal herself to anyone just yet, as they could not be sure the information would not lead its way back to Vaisey. She didn’t really see the need to conceal her survival from anyone, but Marian was unwilling to start an argument over something so trivial. She had been prepared to argue over Robin’s seeming desire to prevent her from joining the mission, but he had surprisingly relented on first confrontation. Of course, he’d gotten his way in the end, although Marian had to concede the point that the stiffness in her side, most likely brought on by the cold weather, had not been conducive to physical exertion, and it would have been difficult to swing her sword or draw a bow with ease if the situation had warranted it.
It had also given her the opportunity to see the villages again as she had longed to, and Tuck, with his respectful silence, made that easier on her. And yet he came alive when speaking to the villagers, showing them the tag with the Locksley crest, explaining that he had joined Robin Hood, and that he was at their service. There had not been a priest in residence at Locksley for some years, and of course Robin had killed the Canon the previous year. Marian could never forget that, for it had been the same day her father died. It was clear that the people distrusted any men of the cloth, fearing that they may be in the employ of Vaisey and would be all too willing to break the seal of the confessional and betray any information which may be of worth to him. Tuck, it seemed, was very welcome.
Marian slipped away and found herself in the Locksley chapel. She walked down the aisle towards the altar, mirroring the steps she had taken the last time she’d been there, in her almost-wedding to Guy. How much had changed since that day, she reflected.
To the left of the altar, in the back corner of the chapel was the familiar statue of the Virgin Mary, several unlit candles placed around her feet. Marian heard footsteps behind her, and looked back to see Tuck approach. He genuflected to the altar and made the sign of the cross. Then he looked towards the statue in the corner, bowed his head and began speaking so softly Marian almost couldn’t hear him. It took her a few second to realise he was reciting the Hail Mary, holding the rosary than hung from his belt. When completed, he looked up again and smiled at her.
“I am not surprised you would take inspiration from our Holy Mother,” Tuck said. “She was a woman not unlike yourself, after all.”
Marian had thought she was beyond being surprised at Tuck. “Why would you say that?” she asked cautiously.
“What I say is not intended to be blasphemous,” he told her genially. “Our Lady was an ordinary woman,” he nodded towards the statue. “But very good. And she was given a great burden… but she did not deny it, or shirk from it. She gave all that she had to protect those that she loved, and showed true bravery in the face of hardship. That is why people love her - why they ask for her guidance and protection. As people ask it of you and your friends.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Will you do me a favour Tuck?” Marian asked.
“I am at your service, Lady Marian.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Save the preaching for the pulpit.”
But Tuck was not offended, and simply gave a low laugh in that strange way of his. “As you wish.”
There as a crash behind them, and Marian whipped around to see a woman by the entrance to the chapel, hands over her mouth in shock and a broken bowl of wildflowers at her feet. Marian took no pains to hide her appearance, and instead took a few steps towards the woman.
“My Lady Marian,” the woman said, curtseying clumsily. “How can this be?”
“Sarah?” Marian asked, immediately placing the face of her former maid.
“Oh, my Lady,” Sarah began to sob. “They said you were dead!”
Marian stepped forward and placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders in comfort. “It’s all right,” she told her. “I’m alive.”
“Oh, praise the Lord,” Sarah cried out and embraced Marian tightly. “I lit a candle for you every week, my Lady, and here you have returned!”
Marian smiled into Sarah’s embrace, fond memories of those same comforting hands who had nursed her when she had been unwell - it felt like a touch of home. And when she drew back, there were tears in Marian’s own eyes.
“Sarah worked for my family,” she explained to Tuck.
“It is more than that,” Sarah told him eagerly. “The Lady Marian saved my daughter’s life!” She recounted the tale briefly, to Marian’s discomfort and Tuck’s obvious delight.
“Why are you in Locksley?” Marian asked, changing the subject. The last time she had seen Sarah had been in the Pitt Street quarantine.
“I have married Tom the Thatcher,” Sarah explained, and Marian congratulated her. “He has provided a good home for me and Jess,” she continued, blushing. “And it is easier in Locksley these days,” she added.
“What do you mean?” Marian asked, curious.
“Well, Master Guy,” Sarah began. “He is away in London now, but when he is here you barely notice it. He collects the Sheriff’s taxes but does not demand any other payment or additional work as he used to.”
“Does he treat you well?” Marian asked. She knew that Guy had been hard on the people of Locksley in the past, and had the capacity for cruelty, but she had always believed that he had an equal capacity for kindness.
“I would not say that, my Lady,” Sarah answered hesitantly. “Not as Master Robin does,” she continued firmly. “But he leaves us alone.”
Marian was curious as to his change of heart. She had often wondered what had become of Guy, and other than receiving confirmation from Robin that he was alive, hadn’t enquired further since the subject had made him so uncomfortable. And yet here was her opportunity for unbiased intelligence. Ignoring Tuck’s knowing look, she asked Sarah for more information on what had been happening in Locksley the past year.
**********
Bower, Nottingham Castle
Getting into the castle had been easy - although Allan was more than willing to put that down to his own skill, he had to admit that the security had been rather lax. But then, they had not snuck into the castle or even made their presence known in Nottingham town for some time and perhaps the Sheriff had become complacent.
Allan and Will had worked their way through the rooms on the upper levels and right wing of the castle, until they reached their final destination to search. Although from first glance it looked like the room had already been searched - furniture was overturned and broken, dresses ripped and strewn on the floor, glass and parchment underfoot. There was even an excessive amount of ashes in the fireplace which indicated some of the items had been burnt.
“This was Marian’s old room, wasn’t it?” Will asked, assessing the room as Allan had done. “Do you think Gisborne did this?”
Allan shrugged, but wouldn’t have been surprised is Guy had flown into a rage and destroyed all of Marian’s belongings. And yet…that time he’d met him in the forest hunting that pig, Guy had not seemed capable of such action - instead he’d seemed solemn, remorseful. Empty.
“I’m glad Marian isn’t here to see this,” Will said softly.
“Let’s get on with it,” Allan suggested. “Remember, grab anything valuable and wait for Robin’s signal.”
*********************************
Sheriff’s Strongroom
There had been booby-traps on the door, but it appeared the majority of them were obsolete, about which John had mixed feelings. On one hand, the absence of hot lead and dogs meant their task was easier, but it also signified that the Sheriff no longer feared them. John blamed himself for not shaking Robin out of his stupor earlier - they had given the Sheriff an entire year within which to collect unfair taxes from the people of Nottingham, for the most part unbothered by their gang. Oh, they still raided the transports in the forest, but they had not assaulted the castle or the Sheriff directly for some time. It had been a failing.
And yet, for all their failure to properly fleece the Sheriff, there was no evidence of the funds in the strongroom like he had expected.
“There’s not much here,” Carter commented quietly, echoing John’s thoughts and sifting through the small piles coins and valuables. It certainly was not enough to justify the taxes that were being collected.
John grimaced. “Take it anyway,” he said, filling his own pack with coins. “Hopefully the others have better luck.” He turned to Djaq. “Last time there was a hidden panel.”
“I remember,” Djaq nodded, and moved to the back of the room, careful to avoid the triggering stones. “Nothing,” she said with frustration after carefully examining the wall.
John was bewildered. “So where is it all?”
***********
Locksley Church
Marian had allowed Tuck to speak to Sarah alone to hear her confession, and the pair sat in the first row of pews while she kept watch at the entrance of the church. It did not escape her notice that Sarah kept glancing over at her with happiness and a bit of reverence.
Before long, however, there was movement throughout the village, and Marian saw Thornton exit from Locksley Manor, calling out orders to the servants who scurried to obey.
A black horse rode up to the manor, and a familiar rider dismounted. Marian felt her stomach drop as she saw it was Guy - his hair longer than she remembered, and even from the distance he seemed thinner, almost fragile, although he still cut an imposing figure in black. The last time she had seen him, she had been held in his arms, his sword through her belly. As long as she lived she would never forget his face in that moment, his expression of bitter rage and disbelief fading into shock as he’d realised what he’d done. Nor would she forget the pain of his sword slide through her, the breath forced from her lungs and the darkness which had followed.
Marian took a few steps forward towards Guy’s direction, but soon found herself halted by Tuck. ‘My Lady, do not,” he said, holding her back.
“Let me go, Tuck,” she demanded. “I wish to speak to him.”
“Is that all?” Tuck asked, and looked pointedly down to her side. Marian followed his gaze and saw that one hand was resting on her scabbard and the other on the handle of her sword, ready to be drawn. She released them both immediately with shock.
“Come,” Tuck told her, tugging on her arm as Guy disappeared inside Locksley Manor. “We must go before we are noticed.”
They ran to the edge of Sherwood and slowed to a brisk walk as they disappeared into the trees, confidant they had not been seen. Marian fumed inwardly on the way back to camp, until she could no longer contain her annoyance.
“What do you think you were doing?” she asked Tuck shortly, refusing to look at him as they walked. “You had no right to stop me.”
“Forgive me, my Lady,” Tuck answered in that infuriatingly calm tone of his. “You appeared to be drawing your weapon, and I thought it best to prevent any action you would later come to regret.”
“I certainly wasn’t going to try to fight him,” she replied dismissively. “I wished to speak to him. If I was reaching for my sword…well, it was a defensive act, only.”
“It is natural, Marian,” Tuck continued calmly, hands still on her arms holding her back. “To be angry, to react instinctively on seeing the man who tried to kill you.”
“I am not angry with him,” she insisted.
“And yet without thinking, your reaction is to confront him…whether physically or not,” he cut off her unspoken objection. “My Lady, I do not pretend to understand the situation fully, but from what I do know, you tried to reach out to this man - you had a level of trust and expectation for him. And you are disappointed and angry that he breached that trust and did not meet those expectations. The Bible speaks of an eye for an eye, and that is an instinctive reaction, one you could not prevent yourself from feeling.”
Marian did not answer, but contemplated inwardly. That was the core of it, she realised, for Guy had professed to love her, had claimed to want to protect her, and his actions felt like the deepest kind of betrayal. Of course she knew that Guy had killed men in cold blood before, had committed unspeakable crimes, and yet she had never expected him to turn into that man against her. She had cared about him, tried to encourage the goodness in him, and he instead had chosen the Sheriff - had chosen the way of hate and anger. Marian was well aware in her own culpability, that she had deliberately taunted him with her love for Robin to distract and break him, but she had not expected him to take such a drastic leap backwards and physically lash out at her.
The truth was, he had disappointed her. The truth was - she was angry with him, bitterly so. What concerned her was that she simply didn’t know what to do about it.
*********************
Sheriff’s Quarters, Nottingham Castle
Robin searched through the contents of the Sheriff’s private safe, disappointment lacing through him. There were some papers and coins which he pocketed, but nothing like he had expected. He had assumed that the Sheriff would have acquired more of a hoard whilst they had been less than active, but there was little of importance to be taken.
“Anything in the desk, Much?”
Much looked up from the ransacked drawers and shook his head with regret. “I don’t understand it.”
“It may all be in the strongroom,” Robin suggested. “We don’t have time to think about that now, let’s get our signal ready.”
Much smiled back at him, once again exuberant, and walked over to the open window. There he fixed the short end of the rolled-up fabric they had acquired in town to the window so that when unrolled and released, it would form a banner which would be visible for miles around.
“Once they see these they’ll know we’re here,” Much reminded him. “We’ll have a time getting out.”
“I know,” Robin nodded. “It’ll be alright Much, we still have the element of surprise,” he continued with confidence. He poked his head out the window and to the left, whistling in the signal they had decided upon. After a few moments Will’s head poked out of the window of the rooms down the hall, parallel to the Sheriff’s. He whistled in return and nodded that they were ready.
Robin waved his hand to signal Will to proceed. “Now!” he told Much, and they both pushed the fabric out of the window, where is cascaded down beautifully to cover the length of the castle wall. He allowed himself another look out the window to see an identical banner now hanging down from the room Will and Allan had searched. But he also saw the guards below looking up and pointing.
“Time to go,” he urged Much, and they both ran from the room to meet up with the rest of the gang in the courtyard as planned. Robin felt giddy - the pure joy of the raid, the danger, the success all coming back to him like an old friend - he was finally himself again.
**********
Great Hall
Vaisey was unwilling to waste anymore wine on Sir Jasper, but the man simply refused to leave. He really was the most vile leech, and Vaisey usually found such a person useful, but when he was the one being sucked dry his tolerance tended to wane. If Jasper did not have the ear of the Prince and Vaisey’s own position had not been so tenuous, despite his success with Richard’s capture, he would have dealt with Jasper like he had so many other annoying, trumped-up knights in his time.
He was contemplating risking Prince John’s wrath when one of the castle guards burst in through the door of the Hall.
“My Lord Sheriff!” the guard called, out of breath, and Vaisey stood, hearing the sound of clashing swords and yells from the courtyard. “My Lord - it’s Robin Hood and his men, they’re here!”
“WHAT?!?” Vaisey shouted with a mixed rage and disbelief.
Jasper tutted. “Oh, dear.”
“Shut up!” Vaisey yelled and ran out of the Hall, following the sounds of the fighting to the outer courtyard. But it was too late, and even as Vaisey bounded down the castle steps shouting orders at his guards, he saw Hood and his gang were already on the other side of the closed portcullis. All of the men, save Robin, wore hoods which concealed their faces, and Vaisey filed that detail away for consideration later. Now, he was too full of rage.
Hood caught sight of him, sheathed his sword and gave a theatrical bow. Then the laughed and turned to follow the rest of his men through the town, disappearing into the crowd. Vaisey barely noticed Jasper appear at his side, and instead demanded answers from the Captain of the Guards who stood nearby.
However, the captain was staring, open-mouthed at the castle behind him. “Answer me, you fool,” Vaisey forcefully removed the man’s helmet and slapped him across the face. “Don’t just stand there.”
“It would appear, Vaisey,” Jasper spoke up with an obvious sneer. “That you have not contained the Hood problem at all.” He pointed back towards the castle where the guard had also been looking, and Vaisey whipped around, fuming.
Hanging from each window of the castle were long banners which reached almost all of the way to the castle steps below - Hood and his men had obviously hung them there before escaping. More troubling, however, in a challenge to his authority and a clear message to the people, was the familiar symbol sewn into the green cloth of each banner and large enough to be seen from the edge of Nottingham Town.
The Locksley crest.
“They’ve hit you where you live, old boy,” Jasper continued with a smirk and he began to put on his gloves. “I must report this to Prince John of course,” he added and ordered a servant to prepare his carriage and made ready to return to London.
“The ground beneath you is crumbling, Vaisey,” Jasper told him lowly before leaving, as Vaisey seethed inwardly, too angry to speak. “One of you must fall,” Jasper continued. “You better make sure it is Hood who takes the tumble.”
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 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13.1
Locksley
It was mid-morning when they visited Locksley, and Marian was able to see Tuck at work. He was wearing his Hospitaller robes, which naturally drew people to him out of curiosity or respect, while Marian hung back, hood drawn to shadow her eyes, thankful that few seemed to pay attention to her while Tuck was there.
Will had freshly carved a new tag with the Locksley symbol that morning so Tuck could use it to convince the villagers he could be trusted. Marian had argued that her presence should have been sufficient, but Robin had asked her not to reveal herself to anyone just yet, as they could not be sure the information would not lead its way back to Vaisey. She didn’t really see the need to conceal her survival from anyone, but Marian was unwilling to start an argument over something so trivial. She had been prepared to argue over Robin’s seeming desire to prevent her from joining the mission, but he had surprisingly relented on first confrontation. Of course, he’d gotten his way in the end, although Marian had to concede the point that the stiffness in her side, most likely brought on by the cold weather, had not been conducive to physical exertion, and it would have been difficult to swing her sword or draw a bow with ease if the situation had warranted it.
It had also given her the opportunity to see the villages again as she had longed to, and Tuck, with his respectful silence, made that easier on her. And yet he came alive when speaking to the villagers, showing them the tag with the Locksley crest, explaining that he had joined Robin Hood, and that he was at their service. There had not been a priest in residence at Locksley for some years, and of course Robin had killed the Canon the previous year. Marian could never forget that, for it had been the same day her father died. It was clear that the people distrusted any men of the cloth, fearing that they may be in the employ of Vaisey and would be all too willing to break the seal of the confessional and betray any information which may be of worth to him. Tuck, it seemed, was very welcome.
Marian slipped away and found herself in the Locksley chapel. She walked down the aisle towards the altar, mirroring the steps she had taken the last time she’d been there, in her almost-wedding to Guy. How much had changed since that day, she reflected.
To the left of the altar, in the back corner of the chapel was the familiar statue of the Virgin Mary, several unlit candles placed around her feet. Marian heard footsteps behind her, and looked back to see Tuck approach. He genuflected to the altar and made the sign of the cross. Then he looked towards the statue in the corner, bowed his head and began speaking so softly Marian almost couldn’t hear him. It took her a few second to realise he was reciting the Hail Mary, holding the rosary than hung from his belt. When completed, he looked up again and smiled at her.
“I am not surprised you would take inspiration from our Holy Mother,” Tuck said. “She was a woman not unlike yourself, after all.”
Marian had thought she was beyond being surprised at Tuck. “Why would you say that?” she asked cautiously.
“What I say is not intended to be blasphemous,” he told her genially. “Our Lady was an ordinary woman,” he nodded towards the statue. “But very good. And she was given a great burden… but she did not deny it, or shirk from it. She gave all that she had to protect those that she loved, and showed true bravery in the face of hardship. That is why people love her - why they ask for her guidance and protection. As people ask it of you and your friends.”
There was a long moment of silence. “Will you do me a favour Tuck?” Marian asked.
“I am at your service, Lady Marian.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Save the preaching for the pulpit.”
But Tuck was not offended, and simply gave a low laugh in that strange way of his. “As you wish.”
There as a crash behind them, and Marian whipped around to see a woman by the entrance to the chapel, hands over her mouth in shock and a broken bowl of wildflowers at her feet. Marian took no pains to hide her appearance, and instead took a few steps towards the woman.
“My Lady Marian,” the woman said, curtseying clumsily. “How can this be?”
“Sarah?” Marian asked, immediately placing the face of her former maid.
“Oh, my Lady,” Sarah began to sob. “They said you were dead!”
Marian stepped forward and placed her hands on Sarah’s shoulders in comfort. “It’s all right,” she told her. “I’m alive.”
“Oh, praise the Lord,” Sarah cried out and embraced Marian tightly. “I lit a candle for you every week, my Lady, and here you have returned!”
Marian smiled into Sarah’s embrace, fond memories of those same comforting hands who had nursed her when she had been unwell - it felt like a touch of home. And when she drew back, there were tears in Marian’s own eyes.
“Sarah worked for my family,” she explained to Tuck.
“It is more than that,” Sarah told him eagerly. “The Lady Marian saved my daughter’s life!” She recounted the tale briefly, to Marian’s discomfort and Tuck’s obvious delight.
“Why are you in Locksley?” Marian asked, changing the subject. The last time she had seen Sarah had been in the Pitt Street quarantine.
“I have married Tom the Thatcher,” Sarah explained, and Marian congratulated her. “He has provided a good home for me and Jess,” she continued, blushing. “And it is easier in Locksley these days,” she added.
“What do you mean?” Marian asked, curious.
“Well, Master Guy,” Sarah began. “He is away in London now, but when he is here you barely notice it. He collects the Sheriff’s taxes but does not demand any other payment or additional work as he used to.”
“Does he treat you well?” Marian asked. She knew that Guy had been hard on the people of Locksley in the past, and had the capacity for cruelty, but she had always believed that he had an equal capacity for kindness.
“I would not say that, my Lady,” Sarah answered hesitantly. “Not as Master Robin does,” she continued firmly. “But he leaves us alone.”
Marian was curious as to his change of heart. She had often wondered what had become of Guy, and other than receiving confirmation from Robin that he was alive, hadn’t enquired further since the subject had made him so uncomfortable. And yet here was her opportunity for unbiased intelligence. Ignoring Tuck’s knowing look, she asked Sarah for more information on what had been happening in Locksley the past year.
**********
Bower, Nottingham Castle
Getting into the castle had been easy - although Allan was more than willing to put that down to his own skill, he had to admit that the security had been rather lax. But then, they had not snuck into the castle or even made their presence known in Nottingham town for some time and perhaps the Sheriff had become complacent.
Allan and Will had worked their way through the rooms on the upper levels and right wing of the castle, until they reached their final destination to search. Although from first glance it looked like the room had already been searched - furniture was overturned and broken, dresses ripped and strewn on the floor, glass and parchment underfoot. There was even an excessive amount of ashes in the fireplace which indicated some of the items had been burnt.
“This was Marian’s old room, wasn’t it?” Will asked, assessing the room as Allan had done. “Do you think Gisborne did this?”
Allan shrugged, but wouldn’t have been surprised is Guy had flown into a rage and destroyed all of Marian’s belongings. And yet…that time he’d met him in the forest hunting that pig, Guy had not seemed capable of such action - instead he’d seemed solemn, remorseful. Empty.
“I’m glad Marian isn’t here to see this,” Will said softly.
“Let’s get on with it,” Allan suggested. “Remember, grab anything valuable and wait for Robin’s signal.”
*********************************
Sheriff’s Strongroom
There had been booby-traps on the door, but it appeared the majority of them were obsolete, about which John had mixed feelings. On one hand, the absence of hot lead and dogs meant their task was easier, but it also signified that the Sheriff no longer feared them. John blamed himself for not shaking Robin out of his stupor earlier - they had given the Sheriff an entire year within which to collect unfair taxes from the people of Nottingham, for the most part unbothered by their gang. Oh, they still raided the transports in the forest, but they had not assaulted the castle or the Sheriff directly for some time. It had been a failing.
And yet, for all their failure to properly fleece the Sheriff, there was no evidence of the funds in the strongroom like he had expected.
“There’s not much here,” Carter commented quietly, echoing John’s thoughts and sifting through the small piles coins and valuables. It certainly was not enough to justify the taxes that were being collected.
John grimaced. “Take it anyway,” he said, filling his own pack with coins. “Hopefully the others have better luck.” He turned to Djaq. “Last time there was a hidden panel.”
“I remember,” Djaq nodded, and moved to the back of the room, careful to avoid the triggering stones. “Nothing,” she said with frustration after carefully examining the wall.
John was bewildered. “So where is it all?”
***********
Locksley Church
Marian had allowed Tuck to speak to Sarah alone to hear her confession, and the pair sat in the first row of pews while she kept watch at the entrance of the church. It did not escape her notice that Sarah kept glancing over at her with happiness and a bit of reverence.
Before long, however, there was movement throughout the village, and Marian saw Thornton exit from Locksley Manor, calling out orders to the servants who scurried to obey.
A black horse rode up to the manor, and a familiar rider dismounted. Marian felt her stomach drop as she saw it was Guy - his hair longer than she remembered, and even from the distance he seemed thinner, almost fragile, although he still cut an imposing figure in black. The last time she had seen him, she had been held in his arms, his sword through her belly. As long as she lived she would never forget his face in that moment, his expression of bitter rage and disbelief fading into shock as he’d realised what he’d done. Nor would she forget the pain of his sword slide through her, the breath forced from her lungs and the darkness which had followed.
Marian took a few steps forward towards Guy’s direction, but soon found herself halted by Tuck. ‘My Lady, do not,” he said, holding her back.
“Let me go, Tuck,” she demanded. “I wish to speak to him.”
“Is that all?” Tuck asked, and looked pointedly down to her side. Marian followed his gaze and saw that one hand was resting on her scabbard and the other on the handle of her sword, ready to be drawn. She released them both immediately with shock.
“Come,” Tuck told her, tugging on her arm as Guy disappeared inside Locksley Manor. “We must go before we are noticed.”
They ran to the edge of Sherwood and slowed to a brisk walk as they disappeared into the trees, confidant they had not been seen. Marian fumed inwardly on the way back to camp, until she could no longer contain her annoyance.
“What do you think you were doing?” she asked Tuck shortly, refusing to look at him as they walked. “You had no right to stop me.”
“Forgive me, my Lady,” Tuck answered in that infuriatingly calm tone of his. “You appeared to be drawing your weapon, and I thought it best to prevent any action you would later come to regret.”
“I certainly wasn’t going to try to fight him,” she replied dismissively. “I wished to speak to him. If I was reaching for my sword…well, it was a defensive act, only.”
“It is natural, Marian,” Tuck continued calmly, hands still on her arms holding her back. “To be angry, to react instinctively on seeing the man who tried to kill you.”
“I am not angry with him,” she insisted.
“And yet without thinking, your reaction is to confront him…whether physically or not,” he cut off her unspoken objection. “My Lady, I do not pretend to understand the situation fully, but from what I do know, you tried to reach out to this man - you had a level of trust and expectation for him. And you are disappointed and angry that he breached that trust and did not meet those expectations. The Bible speaks of an eye for an eye, and that is an instinctive reaction, one you could not prevent yourself from feeling.”
Marian did not answer, but contemplated inwardly. That was the core of it, she realised, for Guy had professed to love her, had claimed to want to protect her, and his actions felt like the deepest kind of betrayal. Of course she knew that Guy had killed men in cold blood before, had committed unspeakable crimes, and yet she had never expected him to turn into that man against her. She had cared about him, tried to encourage the goodness in him, and he instead had chosen the Sheriff - had chosen the way of hate and anger. Marian was well aware in her own culpability, that she had deliberately taunted him with her love for Robin to distract and break him, but she had not expected him to take such a drastic leap backwards and physically lash out at her.
The truth was, he had disappointed her. The truth was - she was angry with him, bitterly so. What concerned her was that she simply didn’t know what to do about it.
*********************
Sheriff’s Quarters, Nottingham Castle
Robin searched through the contents of the Sheriff’s private safe, disappointment lacing through him. There were some papers and coins which he pocketed, but nothing like he had expected. He had assumed that the Sheriff would have acquired more of a hoard whilst they had been less than active, but there was little of importance to be taken.
“Anything in the desk, Much?”
Much looked up from the ransacked drawers and shook his head with regret. “I don’t understand it.”
“It may all be in the strongroom,” Robin suggested. “We don’t have time to think about that now, let’s get our signal ready.”
Much smiled back at him, once again exuberant, and walked over to the open window. There he fixed the short end of the rolled-up fabric they had acquired in town to the window so that when unrolled and released, it would form a banner which would be visible for miles around.
“Once they see these they’ll know we’re here,” Much reminded him. “We’ll have a time getting out.”
“I know,” Robin nodded. “It’ll be alright Much, we still have the element of surprise,” he continued with confidence. He poked his head out the window and to the left, whistling in the signal they had decided upon. After a few moments Will’s head poked out of the window of the rooms down the hall, parallel to the Sheriff’s. He whistled in return and nodded that they were ready.
Robin waved his hand to signal Will to proceed. “Now!” he told Much, and they both pushed the fabric out of the window, where is cascaded down beautifully to cover the length of the castle wall. He allowed himself another look out the window to see an identical banner now hanging down from the room Will and Allan had searched. But he also saw the guards below looking up and pointing.
“Time to go,” he urged Much, and they both ran from the room to meet up with the rest of the gang in the courtyard as planned. Robin felt giddy - the pure joy of the raid, the danger, the success all coming back to him like an old friend - he was finally himself again.
**********
Great Hall
Vaisey was unwilling to waste anymore wine on Sir Jasper, but the man simply refused to leave. He really was the most vile leech, and Vaisey usually found such a person useful, but when he was the one being sucked dry his tolerance tended to wane. If Jasper did not have the ear of the Prince and Vaisey’s own position had not been so tenuous, despite his success with Richard’s capture, he would have dealt with Jasper like he had so many other annoying, trumped-up knights in his time.
He was contemplating risking Prince John’s wrath when one of the castle guards burst in through the door of the Hall.
“My Lord Sheriff!” the guard called, out of breath, and Vaisey stood, hearing the sound of clashing swords and yells from the courtyard. “My Lord - it’s Robin Hood and his men, they’re here!”
“WHAT?!?” Vaisey shouted with a mixed rage and disbelief.
Jasper tutted. “Oh, dear.”
“Shut up!” Vaisey yelled and ran out of the Hall, following the sounds of the fighting to the outer courtyard. But it was too late, and even as Vaisey bounded down the castle steps shouting orders at his guards, he saw Hood and his gang were already on the other side of the closed portcullis. All of the men, save Robin, wore hoods which concealed their faces, and Vaisey filed that detail away for consideration later. Now, he was too full of rage.
Hood caught sight of him, sheathed his sword and gave a theatrical bow. Then the laughed and turned to follow the rest of his men through the town, disappearing into the crowd. Vaisey barely noticed Jasper appear at his side, and instead demanded answers from the Captain of the Guards who stood nearby.
However, the captain was staring, open-mouthed at the castle behind him. “Answer me, you fool,” Vaisey forcefully removed the man’s helmet and slapped him across the face. “Don’t just stand there.”
“It would appear, Vaisey,” Jasper spoke up with an obvious sneer. “That you have not contained the Hood problem at all.” He pointed back towards the castle where the guard had also been looking, and Vaisey whipped around, fuming.
Hanging from each window of the castle were long banners which reached almost all of the way to the castle steps below - Hood and his men had obviously hung them there before escaping. More troubling, however, in a challenge to his authority and a clear message to the people, was the familiar symbol sewn into the green cloth of each banner and large enough to be seen from the edge of Nottingham Town.
The Locksley crest.
“They’ve hit you where you live, old boy,” Jasper continued with a smirk and he began to put on his gloves. “I must report this to Prince John of course,” he added and ordered a servant to prepare his carriage and made ready to return to London.
“The ground beneath you is crumbling, Vaisey,” Jasper told him lowly before leaving, as Vaisey seethed inwardly, too angry to speak. “One of you must fall,” Jasper continued. “You better make sure it is Hood who takes the tumble.”