The Force of Destiny, Chapter 22
Original Post
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/characters: Just about everyone
Word count: 2924
Spoilers: While this alters the end of S2, there are still minor spoilers for the whole run of the show, including S3.
Summary: The taking of Nottingham Castle doesn't go as planned.
Notes: Thanks to wastingyourgum for the help with King Richard's full title! :)
Disclaimer: I make nothing from this, and claim no rights to the show or anything related to it.
previous chapter
-22-
The next morning, the now-substantial group shared breakfast, but conversation was minimal. The outlaws-- soon to be legally-instated citizens once again-- were anticipating an end to their persecution. The guardsmen did not have much to say. The king was thoroughly entertained by the children, not having been around many before.
The guards, disguised as they had been the day before, left for Nottingham to retrieve the other soldiers waiting there. While they waited for everything to be in place, the gang repacked their belongings, some of which had not even been put away yet. They would leave their things in camp for now, expecting it to take a day or two for them to sort out their living arrangements, but seeing that Sakina was already packed, the others decided it was as good a way as any to pass the time.
After lunch, King Richard looked around at the faces looking to him expectantly, and said, “Let’s go to Nottingham.”
“If it is acceptable, I will stay here,” Sakina said. When she was met with puzzled looks, she explained, “I have not been involved in this fight; I am content to wait.”
Eying his daughter, Robin asked, “Would you watch Atiya, then? I would rather that Vaizey never catch sight of her.”
“I’d like to stay, too,” Little Little John piped up. “Nottingham Castle, I do not like.”
“I would not mind watching the children,” Sakina agreed. After that was settled, the rest of the group set out.
When they got to the edge of the forest, they found all of the king’s men waiting, dressed in their Crusader’s uniforms, with his horse at the ready. He ducked deeper into the foliage, out of sight, and reemerged in his own mail and tunic, crown affixed on his head.
“That’s better,” he commented, retrieving his horse and slinging himself into the saddle. Flanked by his guards and followed by the outlaws, he led the way to the town gate.
The town guards could not believe their eyes. They had been given no notice of the king’s arrival, and were so stunned, they did not even notice Robin Hood and his gang behind him.
As they dropped to their knees, Richard told them, “You will remain here, at your posts. If you see the sheriff attempting to leave Nottingham, you will detain him. Is that understood?”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty,” one of the men stammered. The other nodded frantically.
That said, Richard spurred his horse forward. When the guards glanced up and saw the infamous outlaws, they jolted in surprise, but said nothing.
A crowd quickly gathered along the road to the castle gates, as word spread through the town that the king was there. A ripple of murmurs spread through the kneeling assembly when Robin and the others were spotted, the murmurs turning to cheers as it became clear that the outlaws were not under arrest, but were accompanying the king.
It did not take long to reach the castle gate, and when the company arrived, Richard gave instructions very similar to those delivered to the guards at the town gave. Then, the group moved forward into the courtyard, facing the castle steps.
Castle guards hurried forth, and from his perch atop the horse, Richard said to one of them, “Tell the Sheriff of Nottingham that His Majesty, Richard, By the Grace of God, King of the English and Duke of the Normans and Aquitanians and Count of the Angevins and Lord of Ireland, demands his attendance.”
The man gaped at him.
“Now."
The guard fled into the castle.
With that, Richard dismounted, handing the reins to Gilbert. “Robin,” the king called.
Robin came up beside him. “Yes, sire?”
“When I speak with the sheriff and Gisborne, I want you present.”
“Of course.”
Just then, Guy appeared in the corridor to the side of the castle steps. Meg hovered a few steps behind him; it was evident that she was nervous, but Guy seemed composed. He walked toward the king, kneeling at an appropriate distance.
“Your Majesty, I am Sir Guy of Gisborne, and was part of the plots against your life under the Sheriff of Nottingham. I deserve no mercy, but beg it of you, regardless.”
Richard regarded the man in front of him, glancing briefly at the lovely young woman standing off to the side who was inadvertently crushing her skirts in her hands. When she realized that she had not acted properly, she dropped to her knees. His eyes again on Guy, he said, “Your offenses are beyond severe, Sir Guy. However, Robin informs me that you have been aiding him in his work for the people of Nottinghamshire.”
Keeping his head lowered, Guy replied, “I have done what little I can.”
“For that, I will speak with you after I have dealt with the sheriff.”
Guy finally dared to look up, disbelief on his face. “Thank you, sire.”
He stood and moved back to stand with Meg, who grabbed hold of his arm as if she would never let go.
That was when Vaizey leaned out of the tower window overlooking the courtyard. Without a word, Guy shook off Meg’s grip and broke into a run, disappearing into the castle. Robin watched him go, wondering what he meant to do.
“Your Majesty!” the sheriff bellowed. “I see that you have gathered that band of ruffians, likely to see to my downfall. But I can’t make it that easy, now can I?” He smiled with cruel glee at the outlaws, initially singling out Marian. “I told Gisborne you could not be trusted, but he never listened. Always making eyes at him, and then running off to the forest with your little tidbits of information.” Then he looked to Allan. “I’m still surprised they trusted you, after all the little tidbits you brought me. But, I suppose that would be the Robin Hood way, wouldn’t it? Forgiveness,” he sighed sarcastically. His eyes fell on Eve and Much. “Ah, my delightful, devious Eve, all good and noble now. Tell me, Much, have you figured out how to get her to make that little... mewling... sound yet?” Much stared at him, denial making him uncomprehending for a moment; the rest of the gang stared, shocked, at Eve, whose face flamed. “No? That’s too bad; maybe later, she'll show you how it's done.”
Fed up, Robin yelled, “That’s enough, Vaizey! It’s over!”
“It may be over for me,” Vaizey called, just barely loud enough to be heard, “but do not think I’m going alone.”
He produced a bow that he had been holding out of sight, below the window, and fired it at the king.
In the same moment that Vaizey let the arrow fly, two things happened: Guy came up behind the sheriff and ran him through, just a split-second too late to stop him; and Robin threw himself in front of Richard. The force of the arrow as it entered his chest threw him back into the king, although Robin did not quite understand what had happened when he found himself lying on the cobbles. Apparently, the breath had been knocked out of him when he fell; and as he tasted blood, he wondered if he had bit his tongue.
Marian screamed his name and Much cried, “NO!” at the same time the pain hit him. He instinctively tried to gasp, but he could not get enough air; every time he breathed, it hurt even worse than the last breath. The groan he emitted was weak, and muted by the blood in his mouth.
When Gisborne had stabbed him three years ago, the pain had been inconceivable. That was nothing compared to this.
He realized what was happening when he looked down at his chest and noticed the shaft sticking out of it. The thing rose and fell with each labored breath he took, and for a minute, he was hypnotized by the sight.
Then, he was surrounded by people. Marian, his love, her cheeks ghostly white and soaked with tears, dropped down beside him, her hands floating helplessly around as she realized she had no notion of what to do. Finally, with a sob, she ran her hands through his hair. Without knowing it, she was murmuring, “No, no, no, no, no...” Much was across from her, horror on his features. Behind them, several more faces were a blur; he could not focus enough to make them out.
A particularly nasty streak of pain shot through him as he attempted to draw in more air, and his body spasmed against it as he cried out, only to have some of the blood in his mouth run down his throat the wrong way. This caused an excruciating series of coughs that was so agonizing, he could no longer tolerate it, and he lost consciousness; his last sight was the panicked faces of his wife and his best friend as they saw him slipping away.
Marian’s murmured mantra became another scream as she watched Robin’s eyes go vague, and then close. “NO!” She clutched his head, the thin line of blood running from the sides of his mouth staining her fingers. “Robin, please,” she sobbed hysterically. Wake up, she silently begged. Wake up; say something! Do not just fade away like this!
Djaq took her shoulder and tried to move her back. “Let me see him; I might be able to help.” But Marian was unable to even comprehend what she was hearing, so Little John reached over and moved her back. She struggled against him, until she saw that Djaq was studying Robin.
“Is he...?” Marian asked, afraid to finish the sentence.
“He is alive, for now,” Djaq answered as sympathetically as she was able to do while in medical mode. “Will, I need wine, olive oil, clean linen, wax, and herbs-- oregano, thyme, basil and barberry.”
“Right.” He ran toward the castle.
“This is going to cause more damage if I do not remove it,” she commented to nobody in particular, leaning over Robin and grabbing hold of the arrow. Fortunately, it had not gone in too deeply, having been fired without proper preparation. She pulled it out quickly, as closely in line with its entry as possible, wincing as it came out with a wet, sucking noise.
Her arms still held by Little John, Marian nearly fainted, herself; but she fought the dots that swirled through her vision, the distant sound of voices right next to her. If Robin was dying, she was not going to miss his last moments, no matter how much her heart broke to witness them. Please, do not die. At least not without saying good-bye to me. The gurgling sound he had made before his coughing fit echoed in her ears, which could not be the last thing she ever heard from him. She was not counting the hollow wheezing sounds coming from his chest at the moment; he would speak to her again.
He had to.
Marian had just regained control of herself as Djaq sliced his shirts up the front, revealing the puncture wound that bled freely now. When it was obvious that Marian was not going to fight anymore, Little John released her, and she moved around Robin until she was opposite Djaq, beside Much; and then she sat, holding her husband’s hand.
“As I thought; his lung is breached,” Djaq said. “We need to get him into a bed; somewhere he will not have to be moved for some time.”
“In here,” Guy instructed, having rejoined the group in the courtyard.
Richard offered his cloak for use as a litter, and John, Much and Allan each took a corner after John and Guy had moved Robin onto it. Guy reached for the fourth corner, but Richard stopped him. “That arrow was intended for me. Allow me to help.” They swiftly, yet cautiously moved him into the chamber Marian had once inhabited, not far off the courtyard.
Will had the things Djaq needed by then, and as soon as Robin was settled into the bed, she cleaned the wound with the wine and olive oil. She then melted the wax and mixed the herbs into it, ripping the linen into strips and dipping it into the poultice before applying them around the hole in his chest.
Marian had silently walked alongside the litter, feeling as though she were moving through molasses, that time had slowed to nearly a standstill. Each difficult breath Robin drew was like a year, each step across the courtyard, a decade. Part of her almost prayed for his suffering to end as she listened to him laboring for air; but she was too selfish to truly want that. He had to live; he absolutely had to.
He was just about to regain Locksley. They were about to regain Locksley; them, and Atiya too.
Oh, Atiya. Thank God she had not been there, or Little Little John! The boy had witnessed too much already during his short life. And the girl... She could not lose her father, not after just gaining him.
And then there was the baby that Marian carried, which she had first kept secret so as to be sure, and then had decided to tell Robin about when they were finally in Locksley Manor.
But, to be completely selfish, Marian needed him to live for herself. It had taken her too long to grasp how much she loved him, and ever since she had come to the realization, she had also acknowledged that she could never go back from it. When he left for the Holy Land, she told herself it was just as well; she would not want to be married to a man who disregarded her so casually. While he was gone, she flirted, given the opportunity-- but there were not many opportunities. She had finally decided to try to develop some feeling for Guy, keeping Meg's admonitions in mind, when Robin returned. Her joy at knowing he lived, safe and whole, was tempered by the frustration that had grown over those five years, as well as his apparent assumption that they could simply pick back up where they had left off.
She had been a fool not to.
Of course, there was so much going on after that, there had been times when she wanted to scream to the heavens to stop the world for a moment and let her catch her breath--
--and as she thought that, Robin gasped for air. He was still unconscious, but that was for the best.
And now, Marian watched as Djaq competently applied the compress around the wound. They were so fortunate to have such skillful friends, she mused, not realizing how much her mind was wandering. At the foot of the bed, Much stood staring at Robin’s still form, stricken. Eve was beside him, holding his hand, knowing that there was nothing she could say to alleviate his fear.
The person Marian needed beside her was there, but he was on his back and could die at any moment.
He needed her to hold his hand right now, she thought, easing onto the mattress beside him.
“Be careful,” Djaq warned. “He must be still if he is to heal.”
“He will heal?” Marian asked, desperation in her voice.
Djaq’s eyes grew sad as she looked at the other woman. “I cannot promise that. He is in danger of drowning, or taking an infection; I have done what I can to prevent it, but that is not much. However, if he avoids that, then yes; he should heal.”
It was not the reassurance any of them had hoped to hear, but it was better than none at all.
Glancing down at him as she took his hand, Marian gasped. “His lips are turning blue! That’s not good, is it?”
“Good, no; but it is normal.” Djaq made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “This is going to be beyond my knowledge. Is there a physician in town at the moment?”
Guy answered her quietly, from where he stood inside the door. “Not one capable of this.”
“Matilda!” Will exclaimed. “I’ll bet she knows what to do.”
Djaq nodded. “Have her fetched, quickly. I do not know how much time he has, otherwise. In the meanwhile, he should have some peace, to rest.”
“I am not leaving,” Marian declared.
“Of course not. You and I will--”
“And me,” Much cut in.
She nodded. “We will stay.”
Meg offered, “I’ll have chambers readied for everyone, and a meal set out in the Great Hall.”
“No,” Guy quickly replied. “Have the meal set out in the sheriff’s chambers. We will have chairs and tables brought in.”
She gave him an odd look, but left to pass the instructions along without argument.
As they exited the room, the king walked up beside Guy. “What of the sheriff?”
“Dead,” Guy answered flatly. “I was too late to stop him, but he will never harm another soul again.”
“You are certain of this?” Richard queried.
Guy’s eyes were dull when he met the king’s gaze. “I have had his body taken to the Great Hall, for your inspection. His head should be there, as well.”
“Separately,” the king remarked.
“Quite.”
“Excellent.”
Soon, the majority of the group had filed out, and the bedchamber fell silent, except for the wheezing coming from the bed.
next chapter
*
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/characters: Just about everyone
Word count: 2924
Spoilers: While this alters the end of S2, there are still minor spoilers for the whole run of the show, including S3.
Summary: The taking of Nottingham Castle doesn't go as planned.
Notes: Thanks to wastingyourgum for the help with King Richard's full title! :)
Disclaimer: I make nothing from this, and claim no rights to the show or anything related to it.
previous chapter
-22-
The next morning, the now-substantial group shared breakfast, but conversation was minimal. The outlaws-- soon to be legally-instated citizens once again-- were anticipating an end to their persecution. The guardsmen did not have much to say. The king was thoroughly entertained by the children, not having been around many before.
The guards, disguised as they had been the day before, left for Nottingham to retrieve the other soldiers waiting there. While they waited for everything to be in place, the gang repacked their belongings, some of which had not even been put away yet. They would leave their things in camp for now, expecting it to take a day or two for them to sort out their living arrangements, but seeing that Sakina was already packed, the others decided it was as good a way as any to pass the time.
After lunch, King Richard looked around at the faces looking to him expectantly, and said, “Let’s go to Nottingham.”
“If it is acceptable, I will stay here,” Sakina said. When she was met with puzzled looks, she explained, “I have not been involved in this fight; I am content to wait.”
Eying his daughter, Robin asked, “Would you watch Atiya, then? I would rather that Vaizey never catch sight of her.”
“I’d like to stay, too,” Little Little John piped up. “Nottingham Castle, I do not like.”
“I would not mind watching the children,” Sakina agreed. After that was settled, the rest of the group set out.
When they got to the edge of the forest, they found all of the king’s men waiting, dressed in their Crusader’s uniforms, with his horse at the ready. He ducked deeper into the foliage, out of sight, and reemerged in his own mail and tunic, crown affixed on his head.
“That’s better,” he commented, retrieving his horse and slinging himself into the saddle. Flanked by his guards and followed by the outlaws, he led the way to the town gate.
The town guards could not believe their eyes. They had been given no notice of the king’s arrival, and were so stunned, they did not even notice Robin Hood and his gang behind him.
As they dropped to their knees, Richard told them, “You will remain here, at your posts. If you see the sheriff attempting to leave Nottingham, you will detain him. Is that understood?”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty,” one of the men stammered. The other nodded frantically.
That said, Richard spurred his horse forward. When the guards glanced up and saw the infamous outlaws, they jolted in surprise, but said nothing.
A crowd quickly gathered along the road to the castle gates, as word spread through the town that the king was there. A ripple of murmurs spread through the kneeling assembly when Robin and the others were spotted, the murmurs turning to cheers as it became clear that the outlaws were not under arrest, but were accompanying the king.
It did not take long to reach the castle gate, and when the company arrived, Richard gave instructions very similar to those delivered to the guards at the town gave. Then, the group moved forward into the courtyard, facing the castle steps.
Castle guards hurried forth, and from his perch atop the horse, Richard said to one of them, “Tell the Sheriff of Nottingham that His Majesty, Richard, By the Grace of God, King of the English and Duke of the Normans and Aquitanians and Count of the Angevins and Lord of Ireland, demands his attendance.”
The man gaped at him.
“Now."
The guard fled into the castle.
With that, Richard dismounted, handing the reins to Gilbert. “Robin,” the king called.
Robin came up beside him. “Yes, sire?”
“When I speak with the sheriff and Gisborne, I want you present.”
“Of course.”
Just then, Guy appeared in the corridor to the side of the castle steps. Meg hovered a few steps behind him; it was evident that she was nervous, but Guy seemed composed. He walked toward the king, kneeling at an appropriate distance.
“Your Majesty, I am Sir Guy of Gisborne, and was part of the plots against your life under the Sheriff of Nottingham. I deserve no mercy, but beg it of you, regardless.”
Richard regarded the man in front of him, glancing briefly at the lovely young woman standing off to the side who was inadvertently crushing her skirts in her hands. When she realized that she had not acted properly, she dropped to her knees. His eyes again on Guy, he said, “Your offenses are beyond severe, Sir Guy. However, Robin informs me that you have been aiding him in his work for the people of Nottinghamshire.”
Keeping his head lowered, Guy replied, “I have done what little I can.”
“For that, I will speak with you after I have dealt with the sheriff.”
Guy finally dared to look up, disbelief on his face. “Thank you, sire.”
He stood and moved back to stand with Meg, who grabbed hold of his arm as if she would never let go.
That was when Vaizey leaned out of the tower window overlooking the courtyard. Without a word, Guy shook off Meg’s grip and broke into a run, disappearing into the castle. Robin watched him go, wondering what he meant to do.
“Your Majesty!” the sheriff bellowed. “I see that you have gathered that band of ruffians, likely to see to my downfall. But I can’t make it that easy, now can I?” He smiled with cruel glee at the outlaws, initially singling out Marian. “I told Gisborne you could not be trusted, but he never listened. Always making eyes at him, and then running off to the forest with your little tidbits of information.” Then he looked to Allan. “I’m still surprised they trusted you, after all the little tidbits you brought me. But, I suppose that would be the Robin Hood way, wouldn’t it? Forgiveness,” he sighed sarcastically. His eyes fell on Eve and Much. “Ah, my delightful, devious Eve, all good and noble now. Tell me, Much, have you figured out how to get her to make that little... mewling... sound yet?” Much stared at him, denial making him uncomprehending for a moment; the rest of the gang stared, shocked, at Eve, whose face flamed. “No? That’s too bad; maybe later, she'll show you how it's done.”
Fed up, Robin yelled, “That’s enough, Vaizey! It’s over!”
“It may be over for me,” Vaizey called, just barely loud enough to be heard, “but do not think I’m going alone.”
He produced a bow that he had been holding out of sight, below the window, and fired it at the king.
In the same moment that Vaizey let the arrow fly, two things happened: Guy came up behind the sheriff and ran him through, just a split-second too late to stop him; and Robin threw himself in front of Richard. The force of the arrow as it entered his chest threw him back into the king, although Robin did not quite understand what had happened when he found himself lying on the cobbles. Apparently, the breath had been knocked out of him when he fell; and as he tasted blood, he wondered if he had bit his tongue.
Marian screamed his name and Much cried, “NO!” at the same time the pain hit him. He instinctively tried to gasp, but he could not get enough air; every time he breathed, it hurt even worse than the last breath. The groan he emitted was weak, and muted by the blood in his mouth.
When Gisborne had stabbed him three years ago, the pain had been inconceivable. That was nothing compared to this.
He realized what was happening when he looked down at his chest and noticed the shaft sticking out of it. The thing rose and fell with each labored breath he took, and for a minute, he was hypnotized by the sight.
Then, he was surrounded by people. Marian, his love, her cheeks ghostly white and soaked with tears, dropped down beside him, her hands floating helplessly around as she realized she had no notion of what to do. Finally, with a sob, she ran her hands through his hair. Without knowing it, she was murmuring, “No, no, no, no, no...” Much was across from her, horror on his features. Behind them, several more faces were a blur; he could not focus enough to make them out.
A particularly nasty streak of pain shot through him as he attempted to draw in more air, and his body spasmed against it as he cried out, only to have some of the blood in his mouth run down his throat the wrong way. This caused an excruciating series of coughs that was so agonizing, he could no longer tolerate it, and he lost consciousness; his last sight was the panicked faces of his wife and his best friend as they saw him slipping away.
Marian’s murmured mantra became another scream as she watched Robin’s eyes go vague, and then close. “NO!” She clutched his head, the thin line of blood running from the sides of his mouth staining her fingers. “Robin, please,” she sobbed hysterically. Wake up, she silently begged. Wake up; say something! Do not just fade away like this!
Djaq took her shoulder and tried to move her back. “Let me see him; I might be able to help.” But Marian was unable to even comprehend what she was hearing, so Little John reached over and moved her back. She struggled against him, until she saw that Djaq was studying Robin.
“Is he...?” Marian asked, afraid to finish the sentence.
“He is alive, for now,” Djaq answered as sympathetically as she was able to do while in medical mode. “Will, I need wine, olive oil, clean linen, wax, and herbs-- oregano, thyme, basil and barberry.”
“Right.” He ran toward the castle.
“This is going to cause more damage if I do not remove it,” she commented to nobody in particular, leaning over Robin and grabbing hold of the arrow. Fortunately, it had not gone in too deeply, having been fired without proper preparation. She pulled it out quickly, as closely in line with its entry as possible, wincing as it came out with a wet, sucking noise.
Her arms still held by Little John, Marian nearly fainted, herself; but she fought the dots that swirled through her vision, the distant sound of voices right next to her. If Robin was dying, she was not going to miss his last moments, no matter how much her heart broke to witness them. Please, do not die. At least not without saying good-bye to me. The gurgling sound he had made before his coughing fit echoed in her ears, which could not be the last thing she ever heard from him. She was not counting the hollow wheezing sounds coming from his chest at the moment; he would speak to her again.
He had to.
Marian had just regained control of herself as Djaq sliced his shirts up the front, revealing the puncture wound that bled freely now. When it was obvious that Marian was not going to fight anymore, Little John released her, and she moved around Robin until she was opposite Djaq, beside Much; and then she sat, holding her husband’s hand.
“As I thought; his lung is breached,” Djaq said. “We need to get him into a bed; somewhere he will not have to be moved for some time.”
“In here,” Guy instructed, having rejoined the group in the courtyard.
Richard offered his cloak for use as a litter, and John, Much and Allan each took a corner after John and Guy had moved Robin onto it. Guy reached for the fourth corner, but Richard stopped him. “That arrow was intended for me. Allow me to help.” They swiftly, yet cautiously moved him into the chamber Marian had once inhabited, not far off the courtyard.
Will had the things Djaq needed by then, and as soon as Robin was settled into the bed, she cleaned the wound with the wine and olive oil. She then melted the wax and mixed the herbs into it, ripping the linen into strips and dipping it into the poultice before applying them around the hole in his chest.
Marian had silently walked alongside the litter, feeling as though she were moving through molasses, that time had slowed to nearly a standstill. Each difficult breath Robin drew was like a year, each step across the courtyard, a decade. Part of her almost prayed for his suffering to end as she listened to him laboring for air; but she was too selfish to truly want that. He had to live; he absolutely had to.
He was just about to regain Locksley. They were about to regain Locksley; them, and Atiya too.
Oh, Atiya. Thank God she had not been there, or Little Little John! The boy had witnessed too much already during his short life. And the girl... She could not lose her father, not after just gaining him.
And then there was the baby that Marian carried, which she had first kept secret so as to be sure, and then had decided to tell Robin about when they were finally in Locksley Manor.
But, to be completely selfish, Marian needed him to live for herself. It had taken her too long to grasp how much she loved him, and ever since she had come to the realization, she had also acknowledged that she could never go back from it. When he left for the Holy Land, she told herself it was just as well; she would not want to be married to a man who disregarded her so casually. While he was gone, she flirted, given the opportunity-- but there were not many opportunities. She had finally decided to try to develop some feeling for Guy, keeping Meg's admonitions in mind, when Robin returned. Her joy at knowing he lived, safe and whole, was tempered by the frustration that had grown over those five years, as well as his apparent assumption that they could simply pick back up where they had left off.
She had been a fool not to.
Of course, there was so much going on after that, there had been times when she wanted to scream to the heavens to stop the world for a moment and let her catch her breath--
--and as she thought that, Robin gasped for air. He was still unconscious, but that was for the best.
And now, Marian watched as Djaq competently applied the compress around the wound. They were so fortunate to have such skillful friends, she mused, not realizing how much her mind was wandering. At the foot of the bed, Much stood staring at Robin’s still form, stricken. Eve was beside him, holding his hand, knowing that there was nothing she could say to alleviate his fear.
The person Marian needed beside her was there, but he was on his back and could die at any moment.
He needed her to hold his hand right now, she thought, easing onto the mattress beside him.
“Be careful,” Djaq warned. “He must be still if he is to heal.”
“He will heal?” Marian asked, desperation in her voice.
Djaq’s eyes grew sad as she looked at the other woman. “I cannot promise that. He is in danger of drowning, or taking an infection; I have done what I can to prevent it, but that is not much. However, if he avoids that, then yes; he should heal.”
It was not the reassurance any of them had hoped to hear, but it was better than none at all.
Glancing down at him as she took his hand, Marian gasped. “His lips are turning blue! That’s not good, is it?”
“Good, no; but it is normal.” Djaq made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “This is going to be beyond my knowledge. Is there a physician in town at the moment?”
Guy answered her quietly, from where he stood inside the door. “Not one capable of this.”
“Matilda!” Will exclaimed. “I’ll bet she knows what to do.”
Djaq nodded. “Have her fetched, quickly. I do not know how much time he has, otherwise. In the meanwhile, he should have some peace, to rest.”
“I am not leaving,” Marian declared.
“Of course not. You and I will--”
“And me,” Much cut in.
She nodded. “We will stay.”
Meg offered, “I’ll have chambers readied for everyone, and a meal set out in the Great Hall.”
“No,” Guy quickly replied. “Have the meal set out in the sheriff’s chambers. We will have chairs and tables brought in.”
She gave him an odd look, but left to pass the instructions along without argument.
As they exited the room, the king walked up beside Guy. “What of the sheriff?”
“Dead,” Guy answered flatly. “I was too late to stop him, but he will never harm another soul again.”
“You are certain of this?” Richard queried.
Guy’s eyes were dull when he met the king’s gaze. “I have had his body taken to the Great Hall, for your inspection. His head should be there, as well.”
“Separately,” the king remarked.
“Quite.”
“Excellent.”
Soon, the majority of the group had filed out, and the bedchamber fell silent, except for the wheezing coming from the bed.
next chapter
*