For King and Country (1/?)
Title: For King and Country
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Word Count: 1783
Warnings/Genre: angst, slash
Characters/Pairings: Much/Carter, Robin/Much, Allan, John
Copyright: BBC & TA own; I just want to play in their universe
Summary: a post series 2 tale of DeNile - yes, Carter still lives! The gang's mission: rescue King Richard from his captors in Bavaria.
A/N: pardon my French and my German. Let's see if Babelfish works! And pardon the departure from actual history--hey, if TA can change the historical record, why can't I? This is fiction after all...
>->------------>>
Chapter 1
Much looked back longingly at the coastline of south England fading on the horizon.
“Ha’ penny for your thoughts,” Carter said. The young soldier placed his hand atop Much’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“This is getting to be a bad habit,” Much replied.
“It’s for a good cause. Maybe this time will be our last.”
Much glanced toward the deck where John and Robin appeared to be learning about the finer points of sailing from the captain at the wheel. Though this channel crossing wasn’t as rough as their last, poor Allan was miserable, once again hanging off the bow of the boat. “I imagine Allan certainly hopes so. I wonder if John might miss Aquitaine.”
“You mean he might miss Queen Eleanor,” Carter said with a mischievous grin. “He can always go back on his own.”
“That is true.” Much threw Carter a half-smile. “It is quite a view,” he sighed turning his sights back on England’s rugged coast. “I think the only thing more beautiful was seeing Locksley when Robin and me came back from the Holy Land that first time.”
“Wait…I thought me riding on that steed into Clun was the most beautiful thing you’d seen.”
Much frowned in concentration then shook his head. “No. I think it was Locksley,” he said quite seriously before a huge grin lit his face.
Carter poked him in the side playfully. “You’ll see Locksley again, Much,” he told the outlaw. “We all will.”
Much turned somber again. “We’ve been through too much not to make it back home. Maybe if we finally get the King home to England we’ll have more normal lives.”
“Why so sad?” Carter asked, reaching out to cuff Much’s neck.
“Can anything in our lives be normal?” There was a hint of anger in the outlaw’s voice. He glanced toward Robin again. “Marian is gone. Robin won’t have the life he’d dreamed of. What’s normal when you’ve lost the one you loved? What’s normal when your best friend says he listens and he understands, but avoids talking to you unless it’s about the mission?”
“You did tell him to jigger off,” Carter reminded him.
“That was days ago,” Much replied. “He apologized for all the hurt he caused. I accepted that, told him I’ll always love him. I want my friend back, Carter.”
“Men do stupid things sometimes.”
“Calling me stupid now, Carter?” Robin kidded as he joined the men at the rail.
“Yes,” Much replied matter-of-factly. “Intelligent men can do stupid things. Even me…sometimes.”
“Then we’re agreed,” Robin smiled. “We’ve done stupid things but that will never, ever get in the way of our friendship.”
“Glad you finally admitted that, Locksley,” Carter said.
“Don’t remember asking for your opinion, Carter,” the archer smirked.
“Well since I’m part of this friendship I thought I should say something. Besides, Much walks around all glum when he thinks you’re upset with him. Makes my life a bit more difficult!”
“What!” Much shouted indignantly.
Robin and Carter laughed, each planting a kiss on Much’s cheeks which drew a huge smile from the outlaw.
“Can we trust Count Friedrich, Robin?” Much asked.
Friedrich Bertrand Otto von Wittersburg aligned himself with the gang the previous year in Nottingham after being one in a line of Vaisey’s unwitting-or in this case-not-so-unwitting victims. “He was devoted to Marian, sincere in his pledge to help us with our cause,” Robin replied. “The Queen Mother felt his letter was free from deceit and showed an honest desire to honor her memory.”
“We’ll have a rough road ahead,” Carter said. “Through enemy lands.”
“They were not our enemies in the Holy Land,” Much said sadly.
“Getting there will be easy.” Robin looked around to ensure no one else was close enough to hear their conversation. “Getting the king out of Bavaria-“
“We must be insane,” Much said.
“Definitely unbalanced,” Carter added.
Robin arched his brow. “What? I thought we’d be daring and courageous.”
“Heroes?” Carter asked.
Much snorted. “Only if we pull it off.”
“What do you mean, if?” Robin asked.
“Alright. When we pull it off,” Much replied.
“Exactly! It’s a bold plan. Just what we’re used to,” Robin said.
Much shook his head. “Bold and dangerous.”
“Well, yeah, but if there wasn’t a bit of danger involved, what would be the fun in that?” Robin said with a smile.
Allan staggered over to join his brothers-in-arms. His blue eyes looked haggard, his skin pasty. “I’m not bein’ funny,” he said, “but are we there yet?”
>->------------>>
It wasn’t unusual to see men of holy orders travel together to the East on pilgrimages. No one appeared to take more than casual notice as the five monks disembarked from the boat. Their brown robes caught on the strong breeze at the port, their hoods drawn to protect themselves against the cool spring air.
Their leader, his face in shadow, appeared to speak passable French. He asked a dockhand for directions to the Church of Saint Pierre following instructions he'd received from the Queen Mother. The church stood several blocks down the Rue Mer.
Within minutes they’d met their contact at the church. “Follow me,” the priest said. “You do not look like outlaws,” he added, his English heavily accented.
“We’re supposed to look like men of the cloth,” Allan said.
The priest eyed them and smiled. “Passable,” he said.
“Will people ever stop referring to us as outlaws?” Much asked. “We have been pardoned by the King.”
“Indeed, my lord Bonchurch,” the priest replied causing Much to do a double-take when the man called him by name. “Our lady, Queen Eleanor, has you in her favor. In these times, she does not trust many. She holds Robin Hood in the highest regard. As do I.” He eyed the darkened streets. “Please, no English for the next few minutes.”
He guided them behind the church and across the street. They moved through an alleyway that opened into a plaza flanked by a number of establishments including one called the Maison du Cheval.
“House of the horse,” Robin said quietly.
“Shhh!” Much whispered.
“It is alright, my friends. We are safe here,” the priest replied as he led them into the livery and pointed out five strong steeds laden with supplies and funds from the Queen. He handed Robin information about their contacts in Bavaria. “Her majesty regrets you will be on your own until you meet with the count’s associate outside Speyer.”
“Her majesty has been generous. We have everything we need for this journey.”
“Dieu vous benissent, mes fils,” the priest told the outlaws as they mounted the horses.
Little John, Allan, and Much threw blank looks at their traveling companions.
“It means God bless you, my sons,” Carter told the men as they urged their horses to take to the wind.
“French?” Much smiled as he and Carter brought up the rear. “What else will I-we learn about you on this trip?”
The outlaws rode through the night under cover of shadow and found shelter in a forest just as dawn broke. They slept a few hours but by late morning their mission called them to the road again. Galloping through the countryside well into the night again, they stopped only to change horses and replenish their supplies. Allan and John were convinced that it was their monks’ clothing that aided them more than Robin’s passable French and Carter’s command of that language and his flawless German.
Covered with the dirt and grime of the road, they arrived at the rendezvous point in Bavaria nearly two full days after landing on the coast. The count’s associate turned out to be another priest-Abbot Johann--at a church in Speyer. He provided them with further instructions and offered them a meal of broth and bread and a place to sleep for the evening. Exhausted from their journey, they graciously thanked him, ate their meal, and collapsed on threadbare beds in the monastery.
Bells tolled even before the sun came up and the abbot urged his guests to rise and join their brethren for breakfast. The outlaws dutifully donned their habits and joined the parade of monks in the refectory. After the meager breakfast, eaten in silence, they followed the others to morning mass. Abbot Johann intercepted them as they left the service and guided them to his study.
Carter and the abbot spoke in German for a few minutes. “Word of our arrival has been sent,” Carter translated for the others. “The abbot says that our contact should arrive by the evening meal. He will take us to Gebirgsschatten after darkness falls.”
“What should we do in the meantime?” Allan asked.
“Pray in silence,” Robin replied. “Stay out of sight as much as possible.”
“Don’t talk to each other where anyone might overhear that we are English,” Carter added.
The abbot nodded his agreement and, through Carter, explained the daily ritual. The call to High Mass would occur at ten, then dinner at half past eleven followed by a rest period. The monks generally worked between one and five and the abbot suggested the gang could spend their time in the church or outside in the gardens in quiet contemplation until the bells tolled for Vespers. The evening meal would be served at six.
“This will be a long day,” John said.
“I’m afraid we’ll miss the evening reading,” Carter told them.
Allan grimaced. “Oi! That’s quite alright-“
Robin cleared his throat, smiled, and extended his thanks to the abbot again though secretly he knew exactly how Allan felt.
Robin drew his friends into a tight circle and studied their faces as the abbot departed. “Are you all sure you want to do this?”
“We cannot disappoint the queen,” John said.
“What they’ve done is an affront to God,” Allan added.
“I didn’t know you were a godly man,” Much told the poacher.
“I’m not really, but am I right?”
“You are right, Allan,” Robin said, placing his hand on Allan’s shoulder.
“King Richard always led his men into battle. He charged toward Saracen lines and put his life on the line far more times than we can count,” Carter said.
Robin nodded his agreement. “He would do everything in his power to save any man caught in the line of fire.”
“He was a very brave warrior,” Much reminded them as he threw his arms across Robin’s and Carter’s shoulders. “But reckless.”
“Sounds familiar,” Allan said, drawing John closer.
“Then I would say we are in very good company,” Robin replied as Carter’s hand rested on John’s shoulder.
John nodded confidently to his companions. “We-“
“-are Robin Hood!”
>->------------>>
Chapter 2 >>---------------->>>
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Word Count: 1783
Warnings/Genre: angst, slash
Characters/Pairings: Much/Carter, Robin/Much, Allan, John
Copyright: BBC & TA own; I just want to play in their universe
Summary: a post series 2 tale of DeNile - yes, Carter still lives! The gang's mission: rescue King Richard from his captors in Bavaria.
A/N: pardon my French and my German. Let's see if Babelfish works! And pardon the departure from actual history--hey, if TA can change the historical record, why can't I? This is fiction after all...
>->------------>>
Chapter 1
Much looked back longingly at the coastline of south England fading on the horizon.
“Ha’ penny for your thoughts,” Carter said. The young soldier placed his hand atop Much’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“This is getting to be a bad habit,” Much replied.
“It’s for a good cause. Maybe this time will be our last.”
Much glanced toward the deck where John and Robin appeared to be learning about the finer points of sailing from the captain at the wheel. Though this channel crossing wasn’t as rough as their last, poor Allan was miserable, once again hanging off the bow of the boat. “I imagine Allan certainly hopes so. I wonder if John might miss Aquitaine.”
“You mean he might miss Queen Eleanor,” Carter said with a mischievous grin. “He can always go back on his own.”
“That is true.” Much threw Carter a half-smile. “It is quite a view,” he sighed turning his sights back on England’s rugged coast. “I think the only thing more beautiful was seeing Locksley when Robin and me came back from the Holy Land that first time.”
“Wait…I thought me riding on that steed into Clun was the most beautiful thing you’d seen.”
Much frowned in concentration then shook his head. “No. I think it was Locksley,” he said quite seriously before a huge grin lit his face.
Carter poked him in the side playfully. “You’ll see Locksley again, Much,” he told the outlaw. “We all will.”
Much turned somber again. “We’ve been through too much not to make it back home. Maybe if we finally get the King home to England we’ll have more normal lives.”
“Why so sad?” Carter asked, reaching out to cuff Much’s neck.
“Can anything in our lives be normal?” There was a hint of anger in the outlaw’s voice. He glanced toward Robin again. “Marian is gone. Robin won’t have the life he’d dreamed of. What’s normal when you’ve lost the one you loved? What’s normal when your best friend says he listens and he understands, but avoids talking to you unless it’s about the mission?”
“You did tell him to jigger off,” Carter reminded him.
“That was days ago,” Much replied. “He apologized for all the hurt he caused. I accepted that, told him I’ll always love him. I want my friend back, Carter.”
“Men do stupid things sometimes.”
“Calling me stupid now, Carter?” Robin kidded as he joined the men at the rail.
“Yes,” Much replied matter-of-factly. “Intelligent men can do stupid things. Even me…sometimes.”
“Then we’re agreed,” Robin smiled. “We’ve done stupid things but that will never, ever get in the way of our friendship.”
“Glad you finally admitted that, Locksley,” Carter said.
“Don’t remember asking for your opinion, Carter,” the archer smirked.
“Well since I’m part of this friendship I thought I should say something. Besides, Much walks around all glum when he thinks you’re upset with him. Makes my life a bit more difficult!”
“What!” Much shouted indignantly.
Robin and Carter laughed, each planting a kiss on Much’s cheeks which drew a huge smile from the outlaw.
“Can we trust Count Friedrich, Robin?” Much asked.
Friedrich Bertrand Otto von Wittersburg aligned himself with the gang the previous year in Nottingham after being one in a line of Vaisey’s unwitting-or in this case-not-so-unwitting victims. “He was devoted to Marian, sincere in his pledge to help us with our cause,” Robin replied. “The Queen Mother felt his letter was free from deceit and showed an honest desire to honor her memory.”
“We’ll have a rough road ahead,” Carter said. “Through enemy lands.”
“They were not our enemies in the Holy Land,” Much said sadly.
“Getting there will be easy.” Robin looked around to ensure no one else was close enough to hear their conversation. “Getting the king out of Bavaria-“
“We must be insane,” Much said.
“Definitely unbalanced,” Carter added.
Robin arched his brow. “What? I thought we’d be daring and courageous.”
“Heroes?” Carter asked.
Much snorted. “Only if we pull it off.”
“What do you mean, if?” Robin asked.
“Alright. When we pull it off,” Much replied.
“Exactly! It’s a bold plan. Just what we’re used to,” Robin said.
Much shook his head. “Bold and dangerous.”
“Well, yeah, but if there wasn’t a bit of danger involved, what would be the fun in that?” Robin said with a smile.
Allan staggered over to join his brothers-in-arms. His blue eyes looked haggard, his skin pasty. “I’m not bein’ funny,” he said, “but are we there yet?”
>->------------>>
It wasn’t unusual to see men of holy orders travel together to the East on pilgrimages. No one appeared to take more than casual notice as the five monks disembarked from the boat. Their brown robes caught on the strong breeze at the port, their hoods drawn to protect themselves against the cool spring air.
Their leader, his face in shadow, appeared to speak passable French. He asked a dockhand for directions to the Church of Saint Pierre following instructions he'd received from the Queen Mother. The church stood several blocks down the Rue Mer.
Within minutes they’d met their contact at the church. “Follow me,” the priest said. “You do not look like outlaws,” he added, his English heavily accented.
“We’re supposed to look like men of the cloth,” Allan said.
The priest eyed them and smiled. “Passable,” he said.
“Will people ever stop referring to us as outlaws?” Much asked. “We have been pardoned by the King.”
“Indeed, my lord Bonchurch,” the priest replied causing Much to do a double-take when the man called him by name. “Our lady, Queen Eleanor, has you in her favor. In these times, she does not trust many. She holds Robin Hood in the highest regard. As do I.” He eyed the darkened streets. “Please, no English for the next few minutes.”
He guided them behind the church and across the street. They moved through an alleyway that opened into a plaza flanked by a number of establishments including one called the Maison du Cheval.
“House of the horse,” Robin said quietly.
“Shhh!” Much whispered.
“It is alright, my friends. We are safe here,” the priest replied as he led them into the livery and pointed out five strong steeds laden with supplies and funds from the Queen. He handed Robin information about their contacts in Bavaria. “Her majesty regrets you will be on your own until you meet with the count’s associate outside Speyer.”
“Her majesty has been generous. We have everything we need for this journey.”
“Dieu vous benissent, mes fils,” the priest told the outlaws as they mounted the horses.
Little John, Allan, and Much threw blank looks at their traveling companions.
“It means God bless you, my sons,” Carter told the men as they urged their horses to take to the wind.
“French?” Much smiled as he and Carter brought up the rear. “What else will I-we learn about you on this trip?”
The outlaws rode through the night under cover of shadow and found shelter in a forest just as dawn broke. They slept a few hours but by late morning their mission called them to the road again. Galloping through the countryside well into the night again, they stopped only to change horses and replenish their supplies. Allan and John were convinced that it was their monks’ clothing that aided them more than Robin’s passable French and Carter’s command of that language and his flawless German.
Covered with the dirt and grime of the road, they arrived at the rendezvous point in Bavaria nearly two full days after landing on the coast. The count’s associate turned out to be another priest-Abbot Johann--at a church in Speyer. He provided them with further instructions and offered them a meal of broth and bread and a place to sleep for the evening. Exhausted from their journey, they graciously thanked him, ate their meal, and collapsed on threadbare beds in the monastery.
Bells tolled even before the sun came up and the abbot urged his guests to rise and join their brethren for breakfast. The outlaws dutifully donned their habits and joined the parade of monks in the refectory. After the meager breakfast, eaten in silence, they followed the others to morning mass. Abbot Johann intercepted them as they left the service and guided them to his study.
Carter and the abbot spoke in German for a few minutes. “Word of our arrival has been sent,” Carter translated for the others. “The abbot says that our contact should arrive by the evening meal. He will take us to Gebirgsschatten after darkness falls.”
“What should we do in the meantime?” Allan asked.
“Pray in silence,” Robin replied. “Stay out of sight as much as possible.”
“Don’t talk to each other where anyone might overhear that we are English,” Carter added.
The abbot nodded his agreement and, through Carter, explained the daily ritual. The call to High Mass would occur at ten, then dinner at half past eleven followed by a rest period. The monks generally worked between one and five and the abbot suggested the gang could spend their time in the church or outside in the gardens in quiet contemplation until the bells tolled for Vespers. The evening meal would be served at six.
“This will be a long day,” John said.
“I’m afraid we’ll miss the evening reading,” Carter told them.
Allan grimaced. “Oi! That’s quite alright-“
Robin cleared his throat, smiled, and extended his thanks to the abbot again though secretly he knew exactly how Allan felt.
Robin drew his friends into a tight circle and studied their faces as the abbot departed. “Are you all sure you want to do this?”
“We cannot disappoint the queen,” John said.
“What they’ve done is an affront to God,” Allan added.
“I didn’t know you were a godly man,” Much told the poacher.
“I’m not really, but am I right?”
“You are right, Allan,” Robin said, placing his hand on Allan’s shoulder.
“King Richard always led his men into battle. He charged toward Saracen lines and put his life on the line far more times than we can count,” Carter said.
Robin nodded his agreement. “He would do everything in his power to save any man caught in the line of fire.”
“He was a very brave warrior,” Much reminded them as he threw his arms across Robin’s and Carter’s shoulders. “But reckless.”
“Sounds familiar,” Allan said, drawing John closer.
“Then I would say we are in very good company,” Robin replied as Carter’s hand rested on John’s shoulder.
John nodded confidently to his companions. “We-“
“-are Robin Hood!”
>->------------>>
Chapter 2 >>---------------->>>