Fight or Die part 7
Title: Fight or Die pt 7
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Team Hood
Summary: As a pestilence hits Clun, Much becomes ill and the gang have to deal with the unknown disease.
Author Notes Set after 3x05 but before 3x06
Disclaimer: Robin Hood is copyright to Tiger Aspect and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
~
They’d just finished a meagre breakfast when they heard the signal. Together the three of them made their way to the clearing, hoping Robin or John would be bringing them some good news. Robin was waiting when they arrived, stress and tiredness etching his face, eyes dark from lack of sleep.
“How is he?” Tuck asked the question hanging in the air.
Taking in Robin’s appearance and manner he didn’t have high hopes, but he suspected Much was at least still with them.
Robin gave a shake of his head feeling a little hopeless. “Not much change since yesterday, he’s still not woken up.”
“I’ve made up some tinctures, not sure if they’ll work but,” Tuck held up a small bag containing the mixtures they‘d made the night before. “Better to try than not try at all.”
“I’ll try anything right now,” Robin told him in slight desperation. “It’s been a long night, he’s having nightmares.”
“Brought on by the fever no doubt,” Tuck said knowingly, he’d dealt with enough of the sick and dying to understand how the illnesses worked.
Robin didn’t reply, running a hand over his face instead, through his hair. He looked desperate for answers nobody had to give.
“We were going to go into Nottingham, see if anyone knows anything,” Allan offered up.
“It may help, somehow,” Kate added quietly with a small shrug. She didn’t know how, it just felt better to be trying to do something.
“Perhaps I should stay with John and Much whilst you accompany them,” Tuck suggested.
Robin didn’t look keen on the idea, breathing in a deep sigh. “We still don’t know what we’re dealing with, might not be safe.”
Tuck shook his head in resignation. “I’ve worked with the sick, the dying, the leprous, the diseased. If I can see what I’m dealing with, I’ve a better chance of helping.”
“You need a break Robin, doesn’t do you any good just sitting around waiting in vain,” Allan pointed out gently.
Robin rubbed the back of his neck, easing out the ache he felt there. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Much but Allan was right, sitting watchful and waiting did only so much good and he wasn’t sure how much of Much’s moments of nightmares he could take. It was the sound of them, the anguished cries, a desperate searching and nothing he could do about it. They’d came and went during the night, at times just a grumble and then calm, at others long drawn out minutes which seemed to tap into the deep of him and clawed at his insides. He wanted to crawl into Much’s disturbed dreams and calm and soothe him but he couldn’t, he could only look on and wait for the nightmare to end. In the end he relented, they’d be gone only a short time and he could clear his head.
“I’ll get my bow, meet you on the north road,” he said to Allan and Kate, turning with Tuck to return to the camp.
Tuck looked at the grim sight as he approached Much. John looked haggard and worn out, it was doubtful he or Robin had much rest throughout the night. Much looked no worse but no better either and it worried Tuck that he hadn’t become conscious at any point. Still, the few tinctures he had may make a difference, even if to reduce the fever and help him breathe easier, as for the nightmares, there was nothing he could do to nullify the minds wanderings, Much would have to endure them on his own.
“I’m going into Nottingham with Allan and Kate,” Robin explained to John who gave a brief nod of his head. “Tuck’s got a few treatments he wants to try out.”
“You should get some rest,” Tuck told John. “Let me nurse him for a while.”
John agreed in his usual silent way, moving away from Much as Robin gathered his bow and arrows and slung them over his shoulder, giving a brief look at Much before turning to leave. Tuck was already crouched down by him, setting small bottles into a row ready to administer and Robin could take comfort in knowing he was leaving Much in the safety of two trusted men who cared enough to try and do anything to help him.
~
Guy took the path at a leisurely pace, a smug smile had settled on the corners of his mouth as he neared Clun. He couldn’t quite see the hamlet hidden behind the sloping hills but ropes of smoke swirled into the air, causing a misty grey to rise into the clear blue sky. Clun had been burning the dead and the pyres were still smoking and with them Vaizey’s fortune was slipping away. It wouldn’t do to kill Vaizey outright, he had to suffer first and the Sheriff had few weaknesses to attack, but Guy had known him long enough to know where to strike. Vaizey loved power and money. The two went hand in hand for without one the other couldn’t be waged, not in this land. Prince John was the same, wielded the two powers and played with his pawns as he usurped his brothers claim to the throne slowly and carefully.
Clun was an important player in Vaizey’s game of power. The small hamlet prided itself on it’s farming, they brought in the best crops, worked year in and year out, tilling the soil, readying the fields, sowing and reaping the crops. Each village had its fair share of farmers along with other workers, but Clun was a community who’s assets ran purely on the workings of the land. Without Clun, Vaizey would be seeing his coins already depleting, with each report of another dead, it was another worker to be found to bring in the harvest. No doubt he’d pay for workers to bring in the crops, but it would severely dent his already fading hopes of paying John his due.
Guy gave a smile as he thought over his plan. He’d assured the man his living family would be provided for, there had been little hope left for him, he’d already developed the signs of suffering from the disease his village had been ravaged and depleted by. Guy had sent him on his way, to the little hamlet who’d welcome any traveller weary from walking, offer them shelter and accommodation. The family had been quickly disposed of, no threads left to trail back to him.
It had all fallen perfectly into place, such a simple ploy and the irony was, Vaizey had given him the idea to do it.
~
A week before:
It was a fresh summers day, sun rise had come early, urging the little hamlet into waking, to ready the day for working in the fields. Winnie missed working the fields on days like this, days when you could spend all day soaking in the warm sun toiling the fields. The smell of the crops filling your nostrils, telling her that the harvest would soon be underway. In her old age she stayed in the village, busying herself in her cottage, cooking and baking, provisions for the workers and planning the end of harvest celebrations.
Sitting in the slight shade her small home provided, she sat in her rickety chair and set to weaving her baskets with a smile. From her home she could look out over the fence surrounding the hamlet, up at the fields, watching the workers as they wandered through the fields of gold. Her daughter was up there somewhere, Hannah had the same enthusiasm for working the fields as she had as a young woman. It was in her blood, the urge to work in the vast, rolling hills. Benjamin was out there too, Winnie hadn’t liked to ask too many questions concerning the two, young love so easily came and went, but she couldn’t help but hope something would come of it. Ben was a good man, honest, hard working, level headed and it was evident enough that Hannah had sparked something in his heart. Hannah was more like her father when it came to opening up to people, kept herself so wrapped inside, cautious and wary, but Benjamin had been patient in his pursuit and Winnie hoped he would be able to crack through her daughters self protective layers.
Lowering her eyes from the hills to the small village, she spied the stranger who’d come only the day before into their midst. He seemed a sickly man, tired and weary, perhaps from his travels. She’d not had time to speak to him, curiosity was in her nature and she bade him with a hand to join her. He moved slowly, like his limbs ached, but a weak smile etched his lips as he drew near.
“Come have a seat lad, take some shelter from the sun.” She invited, waving a hand to a nearby seat.
“Thank you,” the man said, sitting down heavily, grateful for the rest.
“And how do you find our little hamlet of Clun? It’s a quiet place, not much for the likes of travellers, not if you’re touting wares. Best go to town for that, not that you’ll find much business there. We’re a poor lot round here, at least in our pockets.”
“It’s a lovely place,” the man said appreciatively and Winnie felt a small swell of pride within her. Despite having never travelled anywhere herself, she found it hard to think of a prettier place than Nottinghamshire. “You’re all very kind to offer me a place to stay, I hope I can return the favour.”
There was something about the man, something in his eyes Winnie thought. A haunting look, like he’d seen things he wanted to forget. She wondered about his story, who he was and what he was running from. He had the air of a man searching for something, his voice wavered as he spoke.
“Where are you travelling to? Do you have a destination or are you a wanderer?” Winnie asked him.
“No-where,” the man said with a strange finality. He saw her looking curiously at him and gave a smile and shrug. “I mean, I’ve no set plans, like you said, I’m more of a wanderer, I go where my feet take me.”
The explanation seemed forced, as he shrugged his shoulders sagged down and he let out a wearied breath. Evidently he’d been travelling for days, perhaps with little sustenance or places so welcoming and offering help. It couldn’t be easy living such a life, not knowing where your next meal would come from or where your feet would take you. Some people lived for that kind of freedom, but like herself, he seemed to type of man more suited for a place to call home, somewhere to settle down and make a life in. His past obviously held the answers but though she liked to talk, she didn’t like to pry, let people tell their stories when they wished to. He evidently didn’t want to talk about what it was he’d left behind, perhaps, if he stayed, he’d open up, until then let him deal with his secrets.
With a smile she set aside the basket her fingers had been working at with repetitive ease and stood.
“You look like you’re in need of a hearty meal and I’m about to prepare myself a bite to eat. You stay there and rest a while and I’ll fix you up some food.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t wish to-,” the man started to protest but she quietened him with a tutting of her tongue.
“Nonsense, there’s plenty to go around.”
“But I’ve nothing to give in return,” the man explained. “Food is scarce these days as it is, I wouldn’t feel right taking advantage.”
“Tell you what, I’ve a few jobs need doing. I need some water fetching from the well, usually I’d wait for one of the young men to pass by and have them bring it for me. Also I’ve a basket to be taken to the millers, his wife’s just had a babe and it’s tradition to present them with a basket of provisions, only my old bones don’t let me get around quite well these days. Have something to eat and you can repay me by doing these few tasks for me.”
The man looked apprehensive, toying with the idea. Part of him seemed to hold back, not wishing to get involved and he sat in thought. A look passed over his face, like he was remembering something, before he took in a breath and gave a relenting nod.
“All right,” he agreed, a forced smile on his lips.
“Well if you’re eating at my table lad, I think we ought to make introductions. I’m Winnie, no doubt someone already pointed it out to you, been part of this hamlet so long I’m like part of the fencing,” she gave an impish smile.
“Robert,” he replied after a brief thought.
The name was foreign on his tongue, part of the ploy Gisbourne had forced him to undertake. He wondered if there were special places in hell for the likes of him, who willingly took death into the midst of good people for the sake of saving his family. Miriam, he had to keep thinking about her and the boys, he was doing this for them. There’d been little hope for himself, he was weary already, every movement, every word forced. Perhaps he’d survive, he hoped he’d survive, return to his family, wherever Gisbourne had taken them. Somewhere safe, away from death, promised coin, a new life for all of them. They’d had such a hard life, it was time their luck changed, for some good to come of their labour and toil. He just needed to survive and pray God would forgive him.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Team Hood
Summary: As a pestilence hits Clun, Much becomes ill and the gang have to deal with the unknown disease.
Author Notes Set after 3x05 but before 3x06
Disclaimer: Robin Hood is copyright to Tiger Aspect and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
~
They’d just finished a meagre breakfast when they heard the signal. Together the three of them made their way to the clearing, hoping Robin or John would be bringing them some good news. Robin was waiting when they arrived, stress and tiredness etching his face, eyes dark from lack of sleep.
“How is he?” Tuck asked the question hanging in the air.
Taking in Robin’s appearance and manner he didn’t have high hopes, but he suspected Much was at least still with them.
Robin gave a shake of his head feeling a little hopeless. “Not much change since yesterday, he’s still not woken up.”
“I’ve made up some tinctures, not sure if they’ll work but,” Tuck held up a small bag containing the mixtures they‘d made the night before. “Better to try than not try at all.”
“I’ll try anything right now,” Robin told him in slight desperation. “It’s been a long night, he’s having nightmares.”
“Brought on by the fever no doubt,” Tuck said knowingly, he’d dealt with enough of the sick and dying to understand how the illnesses worked.
Robin didn’t reply, running a hand over his face instead, through his hair. He looked desperate for answers nobody had to give.
“We were going to go into Nottingham, see if anyone knows anything,” Allan offered up.
“It may help, somehow,” Kate added quietly with a small shrug. She didn’t know how, it just felt better to be trying to do something.
“Perhaps I should stay with John and Much whilst you accompany them,” Tuck suggested.
Robin didn’t look keen on the idea, breathing in a deep sigh. “We still don’t know what we’re dealing with, might not be safe.”
Tuck shook his head in resignation. “I’ve worked with the sick, the dying, the leprous, the diseased. If I can see what I’m dealing with, I’ve a better chance of helping.”
“You need a break Robin, doesn’t do you any good just sitting around waiting in vain,” Allan pointed out gently.
Robin rubbed the back of his neck, easing out the ache he felt there. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Much but Allan was right, sitting watchful and waiting did only so much good and he wasn’t sure how much of Much’s moments of nightmares he could take. It was the sound of them, the anguished cries, a desperate searching and nothing he could do about it. They’d came and went during the night, at times just a grumble and then calm, at others long drawn out minutes which seemed to tap into the deep of him and clawed at his insides. He wanted to crawl into Much’s disturbed dreams and calm and soothe him but he couldn’t, he could only look on and wait for the nightmare to end. In the end he relented, they’d be gone only a short time and he could clear his head.
“I’ll get my bow, meet you on the north road,” he said to Allan and Kate, turning with Tuck to return to the camp.
Tuck looked at the grim sight as he approached Much. John looked haggard and worn out, it was doubtful he or Robin had much rest throughout the night. Much looked no worse but no better either and it worried Tuck that he hadn’t become conscious at any point. Still, the few tinctures he had may make a difference, even if to reduce the fever and help him breathe easier, as for the nightmares, there was nothing he could do to nullify the minds wanderings, Much would have to endure them on his own.
“I’m going into Nottingham with Allan and Kate,” Robin explained to John who gave a brief nod of his head. “Tuck’s got a few treatments he wants to try out.”
“You should get some rest,” Tuck told John. “Let me nurse him for a while.”
John agreed in his usual silent way, moving away from Much as Robin gathered his bow and arrows and slung them over his shoulder, giving a brief look at Much before turning to leave. Tuck was already crouched down by him, setting small bottles into a row ready to administer and Robin could take comfort in knowing he was leaving Much in the safety of two trusted men who cared enough to try and do anything to help him.
~
Guy took the path at a leisurely pace, a smug smile had settled on the corners of his mouth as he neared Clun. He couldn’t quite see the hamlet hidden behind the sloping hills but ropes of smoke swirled into the air, causing a misty grey to rise into the clear blue sky. Clun had been burning the dead and the pyres were still smoking and with them Vaizey’s fortune was slipping away. It wouldn’t do to kill Vaizey outright, he had to suffer first and the Sheriff had few weaknesses to attack, but Guy had known him long enough to know where to strike. Vaizey loved power and money. The two went hand in hand for without one the other couldn’t be waged, not in this land. Prince John was the same, wielded the two powers and played with his pawns as he usurped his brothers claim to the throne slowly and carefully.
Clun was an important player in Vaizey’s game of power. The small hamlet prided itself on it’s farming, they brought in the best crops, worked year in and year out, tilling the soil, readying the fields, sowing and reaping the crops. Each village had its fair share of farmers along with other workers, but Clun was a community who’s assets ran purely on the workings of the land. Without Clun, Vaizey would be seeing his coins already depleting, with each report of another dead, it was another worker to be found to bring in the harvest. No doubt he’d pay for workers to bring in the crops, but it would severely dent his already fading hopes of paying John his due.
Guy gave a smile as he thought over his plan. He’d assured the man his living family would be provided for, there had been little hope left for him, he’d already developed the signs of suffering from the disease his village had been ravaged and depleted by. Guy had sent him on his way, to the little hamlet who’d welcome any traveller weary from walking, offer them shelter and accommodation. The family had been quickly disposed of, no threads left to trail back to him.
It had all fallen perfectly into place, such a simple ploy and the irony was, Vaizey had given him the idea to do it.
~
A week before:
It was a fresh summers day, sun rise had come early, urging the little hamlet into waking, to ready the day for working in the fields. Winnie missed working the fields on days like this, days when you could spend all day soaking in the warm sun toiling the fields. The smell of the crops filling your nostrils, telling her that the harvest would soon be underway. In her old age she stayed in the village, busying herself in her cottage, cooking and baking, provisions for the workers and planning the end of harvest celebrations.
Sitting in the slight shade her small home provided, she sat in her rickety chair and set to weaving her baskets with a smile. From her home she could look out over the fence surrounding the hamlet, up at the fields, watching the workers as they wandered through the fields of gold. Her daughter was up there somewhere, Hannah had the same enthusiasm for working the fields as she had as a young woman. It was in her blood, the urge to work in the vast, rolling hills. Benjamin was out there too, Winnie hadn’t liked to ask too many questions concerning the two, young love so easily came and went, but she couldn’t help but hope something would come of it. Ben was a good man, honest, hard working, level headed and it was evident enough that Hannah had sparked something in his heart. Hannah was more like her father when it came to opening up to people, kept herself so wrapped inside, cautious and wary, but Benjamin had been patient in his pursuit and Winnie hoped he would be able to crack through her daughters self protective layers.
Lowering her eyes from the hills to the small village, she spied the stranger who’d come only the day before into their midst. He seemed a sickly man, tired and weary, perhaps from his travels. She’d not had time to speak to him, curiosity was in her nature and she bade him with a hand to join her. He moved slowly, like his limbs ached, but a weak smile etched his lips as he drew near.
“Come have a seat lad, take some shelter from the sun.” She invited, waving a hand to a nearby seat.
“Thank you,” the man said, sitting down heavily, grateful for the rest.
“And how do you find our little hamlet of Clun? It’s a quiet place, not much for the likes of travellers, not if you’re touting wares. Best go to town for that, not that you’ll find much business there. We’re a poor lot round here, at least in our pockets.”
“It’s a lovely place,” the man said appreciatively and Winnie felt a small swell of pride within her. Despite having never travelled anywhere herself, she found it hard to think of a prettier place than Nottinghamshire. “You’re all very kind to offer me a place to stay, I hope I can return the favour.”
There was something about the man, something in his eyes Winnie thought. A haunting look, like he’d seen things he wanted to forget. She wondered about his story, who he was and what he was running from. He had the air of a man searching for something, his voice wavered as he spoke.
“Where are you travelling to? Do you have a destination or are you a wanderer?” Winnie asked him.
“No-where,” the man said with a strange finality. He saw her looking curiously at him and gave a smile and shrug. “I mean, I’ve no set plans, like you said, I’m more of a wanderer, I go where my feet take me.”
The explanation seemed forced, as he shrugged his shoulders sagged down and he let out a wearied breath. Evidently he’d been travelling for days, perhaps with little sustenance or places so welcoming and offering help. It couldn’t be easy living such a life, not knowing where your next meal would come from or where your feet would take you. Some people lived for that kind of freedom, but like herself, he seemed to type of man more suited for a place to call home, somewhere to settle down and make a life in. His past obviously held the answers but though she liked to talk, she didn’t like to pry, let people tell their stories when they wished to. He evidently didn’t want to talk about what it was he’d left behind, perhaps, if he stayed, he’d open up, until then let him deal with his secrets.
With a smile she set aside the basket her fingers had been working at with repetitive ease and stood.
“You look like you’re in need of a hearty meal and I’m about to prepare myself a bite to eat. You stay there and rest a while and I’ll fix you up some food.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t wish to-,” the man started to protest but she quietened him with a tutting of her tongue.
“Nonsense, there’s plenty to go around.”
“But I’ve nothing to give in return,” the man explained. “Food is scarce these days as it is, I wouldn’t feel right taking advantage.”
“Tell you what, I’ve a few jobs need doing. I need some water fetching from the well, usually I’d wait for one of the young men to pass by and have them bring it for me. Also I’ve a basket to be taken to the millers, his wife’s just had a babe and it’s tradition to present them with a basket of provisions, only my old bones don’t let me get around quite well these days. Have something to eat and you can repay me by doing these few tasks for me.”
The man looked apprehensive, toying with the idea. Part of him seemed to hold back, not wishing to get involved and he sat in thought. A look passed over his face, like he was remembering something, before he took in a breath and gave a relenting nod.
“All right,” he agreed, a forced smile on his lips.
“Well if you’re eating at my table lad, I think we ought to make introductions. I’m Winnie, no doubt someone already pointed it out to you, been part of this hamlet so long I’m like part of the fencing,” she gave an impish smile.
“Robert,” he replied after a brief thought.
The name was foreign on his tongue, part of the ploy Gisbourne had forced him to undertake. He wondered if there were special places in hell for the likes of him, who willingly took death into the midst of good people for the sake of saving his family. Miriam, he had to keep thinking about her and the boys, he was doing this for them. There’d been little hope for himself, he was weary already, every movement, every word forced. Perhaps he’d survive, he hoped he’d survive, return to his family, wherever Gisbourne had taken them. Somewhere safe, away from death, promised coin, a new life for all of them. They’d had such a hard life, it was time their luck changed, for some good to come of their labour and toil. He just needed to survive and pray God would forgive him.