Nocturne, Chapter 7
Original Post
Summary: Robin instigates his plan, and the outlaws do some detective work.
Characters/Pairings: The Outlaws; Robin/Marian
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: Picks up the morning after 1x13 ends; AU from there. Serious Watson'ing within. :D
Disclaimer: I have nothing more than fangirling to do with either anything associated with the show Robin Hood, or anything associated with John Watson.
Notes: Bonus points to anyone who remembers Bess. ;)
Previous Chapter
~7~
It took several days to get everything sorted. Will had been right about the leathersmith in Clun, who was more than willing to make a new mask and not mention the fact to anyone. They also tried to determine the patterns that Marian had used in her deliveries, which occasionally crossed with theirs, but were different enough that it took some discreet asking around to work out. Soon enough, however, everything was set.
The first group of deliveries went very well, and Robin made sure to be "accidentally" spotted by a couple of villagers. By his next outing three nights later, there was already a great deal of chatter amongst the peasants about the Night Watchman still being around. Within a few weeks, the people seemed convinced that the Night Watchman had never left nor been executed-- the latter conclusion aided by the hanged man's true identity being revealed by Allan at the Trip. There were some whispers here and there by those who could have sworn that the Night Watchman was a woman; Robin had always suspected that it bothered Marian to be referred to in masculine terms, and thought that she would be pleased to hear those remarks. However, the general consensus was that the ruse was working.
The Night Watchman was back.
And the hero's infamy was growing; Robin was surprised to hear of deliveries he had not made, as well as arguments being made in favor of the Night Watchman indeed being female-- leading to a request for brutal honesty from the gang regarding his costume, the responses to which fortunately put his mind at ease,-- but those were good signs. Those who were spreading any of the tales were excited by them, comforted that they were not merely surviving on the whim of one outlawed noble with a personal grudge against the sheriff. That was exactly what Robin had been aiming for, so the goal was being achieved.
Initially, the gang pestered Robin over the fact that he was receiving no credit for his actions. If he were to let himself admit it, that was somewhat tedious. Being Robin Hood was difficult enough without adding the responsibility of an entirely separate bandit identity, and some recognition of his efforts would not go unappreciated. Yet, he would never say as much aloud, and he soon found that not speaking of it helped him not dwell on the situation. Thinking of Marian and how proud she was of her alter-ego made it even easier to take. And the odd, hushed, "Bless you, Night Watchman!" that followed him as he disappeared back into the night certainly buoyed his mood, as well.
The Sheriff of Nottingham was taking note of what was going on, although the gang did not discover this fact until the sixth week that Robin was pulling double-duty. One night, when he was about to leave the forest and sneak into Treeton, a brief movement down the road caught his eye. Leaning back into the shadows of Sherwood, he waited and watched. Soon, he began to notice more stirrings here and there; soldiers were stationed all over, and better concealed than they had been at Knighton when he and Marian had pulled their heist of sorts.
Robin should not have been surprised that Vaizey was learning, but somehow, he was not expecting it.
Inching back into the trees, Robin headed toward camp. He hoped the villagers would not be overly hurt by the lack of a delivery that night, but he would make it up to them as soon as possible.
* * *
Apparently, that was even sooner than he realized. The gang was in Nottingham the next day, making their usual deliveries, when Robin overheard a snippet of conversation which stopped him short.
"And there was a plum for everyone, too," one woman was telling another.
"Plums? From the Night Watchman?" her friend asked. "That's a new one."
The first woman laughed. "You won't find a soul in Wadlow complaining. Those were tasty."
Now that he was actually looking at the two instead of just scanning the crowd, Robin recognized them; one was, indeed, a resident of the mentioned village, the other from Farthing. After ensuring that they would not be observed, he ducked over. "Did you say the Night Watchman was at Wadlow last night?"
"Robin!" Ella, the woman from Wadlow, exclaimed. She glanced around frantically, but saw that they were safe for the moment. Lowering her voice, she smiled and nodded. "He-- she-- whatever, wasn't supposed to be by 'till next Tuesday. So, that was a nice surprise."
"And you're certain it was the Night Watchman, and not another donor?"
She rolled her eyes in good humor. "Don't you dare try to take credit for that, Robin Hood. For one thing, four people spotted the Night Watchman. And also, you lot never bring us nice fruit like that."
It was beginning to become apparent to Robin that he was not the only person who had donned the mask, but he could hardly let on. Instead, he merely replied, "Well, when we find some good fruit, I'll make sure you are the first to know." The women gave the small laugh he was aiming for, and he went on his way.
The mystery deepened when Djaq reported that the sheriff was in an uproar. The orchard just outside of Bonchurch, which for now was crown property from which he benefitted, had been raided. Most of the crop was gone, and Vaizey was swearing death to whoever was behind the theft. Of course, he was laying the possibility of blame on the outlaws, but apparently he was not hanging all suspicion on them.
Throwing ideas around as they left Nottingham, the gang all agreed that there was someone, most likely a woman, also acting as the Night Watchman. But, who? And why, if everyone else thought nothing was wrong with the original one?
"We have two clues here," Robin announced. "Well, three, if we accept that the impostor is a woman, although that could just be witnesses remembering Marian and seeing what they expect to see."
Djaq held up a hand before he could continue. "Just a moment. What gives you the right to call this person an impostor? You are not the real Night Watchman, nor were you given permission to take on the role."
Robin started to retort, until he realized there really was no retort. "Fair enough," he finally acknowledged on a laugh. "So, let's not even worry about whether the other Night Watchman is male or female. The two things we know for sure is that they are not following Marian's pattern, as we are; and they are sitting on a large harvest of plums and probably other fruit."
"The fruit came from Bonchurch," Will said. "We could ask around there, see if anyone knows anything. They wouldn't talk to sheriff's men, but they might talk to us."
"And if not to all of us, I bet they will talk to Lord Much," said Robin, nudging his former servant playfully.
Much smiled nervously. "Maybe. No, yes. Yes, I'm sure they'll tell me anything they know." His smile faded into a pout. "I love the orchards. Those plums are so juicy; I remember many a harvest when we were younger, eating as many as we could carry back to Locksley..." He trailed off, getting that dreamy look on his face which they all knew so well. Returning to the present, he frowned. "They were supposed to be my orchards."
Slinging his arm around Much's shoulder, Robin sighed. "Someday, my friend." They all knew that was probably just wishful thinking, but nobody argued the thought.
* * *
As it happened, either nobody in Bonchurch knew what was going on, or they were unwilling to inform their former lord-- either of their former lords-- about it.
A shepherdess named Bess had noticed something that nobody else seemed to. "Somebody was in Hannah and Eve's cottage, oh, just over a fortnight back. I didn't get a good look at them, but considering they went out the back window instead of the door, I don't think they were up to any good."
Much was clearly upset at the thought. "Did they take anything? Were they carrying something they'd stolen?"
A firm shake of Bess's head laid Much's worries to rest. "No, anything Hannah and Eve didn't take with them when they left was ransacked by the sheriff's men, and anything left after the ransacking was claimed." She made the statement unapologetically, nor would any of them have expected otherwise. In such straitened times, there was no sense having useful things lying around, unused.
Puzzling over what she was telling them, Robin asked, "Have you noticed anything odd since that?"
"No, and you'd better believe I've been looking. Somebody who's hit hard times is one thing, but those drifters can be bad news. I've been keeping a sharp eye out, and so has my Frederick, but we've seen nothing else."
"All right. Thanks, Bess." Patting her gently on the arm, Robin then pressed a small coin pouch into her hand.
She began to protest, "We're doing well enough," but he interrupted, with a friendly smile and a slight nod at her heavy belly.
"Three small ones to keep warm through the winter this year, instead of just two. Congratulations, and take it."
Returning the smile, obviously pleased at the impending addition to her family, she said, "Thank you."
After she left, John asked, "Should we search the cottage?"
"No," Robin replied. "If the neighbors found nothing, a burglar wouldn't, either." With a glance at the sky, which indicated that evening was fast approaching, he said, "Let's get back to camp. I have deliveries to make tonight-- that is, if the other Night Watchman has not beaten me to it."
Next Chapter
*
Summary: Robin instigates his plan, and the outlaws do some detective work.
Characters/Pairings: The Outlaws; Robin/Marian
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Warnings: Picks up the morning after 1x13 ends; AU from there. Serious Watson'ing within. :D
Disclaimer: I have nothing more than fangirling to do with either anything associated with the show Robin Hood, or anything associated with John Watson.
Notes: Bonus points to anyone who remembers Bess. ;)
Previous Chapter
~7~
It took several days to get everything sorted. Will had been right about the leathersmith in Clun, who was more than willing to make a new mask and not mention the fact to anyone. They also tried to determine the patterns that Marian had used in her deliveries, which occasionally crossed with theirs, but were different enough that it took some discreet asking around to work out. Soon enough, however, everything was set.
The first group of deliveries went very well, and Robin made sure to be "accidentally" spotted by a couple of villagers. By his next outing three nights later, there was already a great deal of chatter amongst the peasants about the Night Watchman still being around. Within a few weeks, the people seemed convinced that the Night Watchman had never left nor been executed-- the latter conclusion aided by the hanged man's true identity being revealed by Allan at the Trip. There were some whispers here and there by those who could have sworn that the Night Watchman was a woman; Robin had always suspected that it bothered Marian to be referred to in masculine terms, and thought that she would be pleased to hear those remarks. However, the general consensus was that the ruse was working.
The Night Watchman was back.
And the hero's infamy was growing; Robin was surprised to hear of deliveries he had not made, as well as arguments being made in favor of the Night Watchman indeed being female-- leading to a request for brutal honesty from the gang regarding his costume, the responses to which fortunately put his mind at ease,-- but those were good signs. Those who were spreading any of the tales were excited by them, comforted that they were not merely surviving on the whim of one outlawed noble with a personal grudge against the sheriff. That was exactly what Robin had been aiming for, so the goal was being achieved.
Initially, the gang pestered Robin over the fact that he was receiving no credit for his actions. If he were to let himself admit it, that was somewhat tedious. Being Robin Hood was difficult enough without adding the responsibility of an entirely separate bandit identity, and some recognition of his efforts would not go unappreciated. Yet, he would never say as much aloud, and he soon found that not speaking of it helped him not dwell on the situation. Thinking of Marian and how proud she was of her alter-ego made it even easier to take. And the odd, hushed, "Bless you, Night Watchman!" that followed him as he disappeared back into the night certainly buoyed his mood, as well.
The Sheriff of Nottingham was taking note of what was going on, although the gang did not discover this fact until the sixth week that Robin was pulling double-duty. One night, when he was about to leave the forest and sneak into Treeton, a brief movement down the road caught his eye. Leaning back into the shadows of Sherwood, he waited and watched. Soon, he began to notice more stirrings here and there; soldiers were stationed all over, and better concealed than they had been at Knighton when he and Marian had pulled their heist of sorts.
Robin should not have been surprised that Vaizey was learning, but somehow, he was not expecting it.
Inching back into the trees, Robin headed toward camp. He hoped the villagers would not be overly hurt by the lack of a delivery that night, but he would make it up to them as soon as possible.
* * *
Apparently, that was even sooner than he realized. The gang was in Nottingham the next day, making their usual deliveries, when Robin overheard a snippet of conversation which stopped him short.
"And there was a plum for everyone, too," one woman was telling another.
"Plums? From the Night Watchman?" her friend asked. "That's a new one."
The first woman laughed. "You won't find a soul in Wadlow complaining. Those were tasty."
Now that he was actually looking at the two instead of just scanning the crowd, Robin recognized them; one was, indeed, a resident of the mentioned village, the other from Farthing. After ensuring that they would not be observed, he ducked over. "Did you say the Night Watchman was at Wadlow last night?"
"Robin!" Ella, the woman from Wadlow, exclaimed. She glanced around frantically, but saw that they were safe for the moment. Lowering her voice, she smiled and nodded. "He-- she-- whatever, wasn't supposed to be by 'till next Tuesday. So, that was a nice surprise."
"And you're certain it was the Night Watchman, and not another donor?"
She rolled her eyes in good humor. "Don't you dare try to take credit for that, Robin Hood. For one thing, four people spotted the Night Watchman. And also, you lot never bring us nice fruit like that."
It was beginning to become apparent to Robin that he was not the only person who had donned the mask, but he could hardly let on. Instead, he merely replied, "Well, when we find some good fruit, I'll make sure you are the first to know." The women gave the small laugh he was aiming for, and he went on his way.
The mystery deepened when Djaq reported that the sheriff was in an uproar. The orchard just outside of Bonchurch, which for now was crown property from which he benefitted, had been raided. Most of the crop was gone, and Vaizey was swearing death to whoever was behind the theft. Of course, he was laying the possibility of blame on the outlaws, but apparently he was not hanging all suspicion on them.
Throwing ideas around as they left Nottingham, the gang all agreed that there was someone, most likely a woman, also acting as the Night Watchman. But, who? And why, if everyone else thought nothing was wrong with the original one?
"We have two clues here," Robin announced. "Well, three, if we accept that the impostor is a woman, although that could just be witnesses remembering Marian and seeing what they expect to see."
Djaq held up a hand before he could continue. "Just a moment. What gives you the right to call this person an impostor? You are not the real Night Watchman, nor were you given permission to take on the role."
Robin started to retort, until he realized there really was no retort. "Fair enough," he finally acknowledged on a laugh. "So, let's not even worry about whether the other Night Watchman is male or female. The two things we know for sure is that they are not following Marian's pattern, as we are; and they are sitting on a large harvest of plums and probably other fruit."
"The fruit came from Bonchurch," Will said. "We could ask around there, see if anyone knows anything. They wouldn't talk to sheriff's men, but they might talk to us."
"And if not to all of us, I bet they will talk to Lord Much," said Robin, nudging his former servant playfully.
Much smiled nervously. "Maybe. No, yes. Yes, I'm sure they'll tell me anything they know." His smile faded into a pout. "I love the orchards. Those plums are so juicy; I remember many a harvest when we were younger, eating as many as we could carry back to Locksley..." He trailed off, getting that dreamy look on his face which they all knew so well. Returning to the present, he frowned. "They were supposed to be my orchards."
Slinging his arm around Much's shoulder, Robin sighed. "Someday, my friend." They all knew that was probably just wishful thinking, but nobody argued the thought.
* * *
As it happened, either nobody in Bonchurch knew what was going on, or they were unwilling to inform their former lord-- either of their former lords-- about it.
A shepherdess named Bess had noticed something that nobody else seemed to. "Somebody was in Hannah and Eve's cottage, oh, just over a fortnight back. I didn't get a good look at them, but considering they went out the back window instead of the door, I don't think they were up to any good."
Much was clearly upset at the thought. "Did they take anything? Were they carrying something they'd stolen?"
A firm shake of Bess's head laid Much's worries to rest. "No, anything Hannah and Eve didn't take with them when they left was ransacked by the sheriff's men, and anything left after the ransacking was claimed." She made the statement unapologetically, nor would any of them have expected otherwise. In such straitened times, there was no sense having useful things lying around, unused.
Puzzling over what she was telling them, Robin asked, "Have you noticed anything odd since that?"
"No, and you'd better believe I've been looking. Somebody who's hit hard times is one thing, but those drifters can be bad news. I've been keeping a sharp eye out, and so has my Frederick, but we've seen nothing else."
"All right. Thanks, Bess." Patting her gently on the arm, Robin then pressed a small coin pouch into her hand.
She began to protest, "We're doing well enough," but he interrupted, with a friendly smile and a slight nod at her heavy belly.
"Three small ones to keep warm through the winter this year, instead of just two. Congratulations, and take it."
Returning the smile, obviously pleased at the impending addition to her family, she said, "Thank you."
After she left, John asked, "Should we search the cottage?"
"No," Robin replied. "If the neighbors found nothing, a burglar wouldn't, either." With a glance at the sky, which indicated that evening was fast approaching, he said, "Let's get back to camp. I have deliveries to make tonight-- that is, if the other Night Watchman has not beaten me to it."
Next Chapter
*