Whatever Happens
Title: WHATEVER HAPPENS
Author: Marji
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or Robin Hood, and I make no profit from them.
Word count: 3,308
Summary: Episode 1 x 12 scene filler following Marian’s collapse in the forest.
Warnings: (if there are any) Spoilers for the season one finale. Some slightly graphic description of a wound.
Author's Note: From my first viewing of this episode, I thought the gap between Marian’s collapse and Robin’s arrival at the cave was just begging to be filled in. That’s what I’ve tried to do here, but you will note that I took a little liberty with the beginning of the cave scene.
Thanks gratefully offered to my betas, hoodie622 and jas.
WHATEVER HAPPENS
Based on photo prompt
They had some distance yet to go before reaching the outlaw camp at the cave. Robin turned around to see what was keeping Marian. It was not like her to dillydally. The last sight he expected to see was of his beloved bent over and struggling to stand. “Marian! What is it?!”
“Unhh…. Is nothing-.” She uttered the meaningless words automatically while clearly failing to stand back up.
Robin’s eyes went wide with shock. “No, we don’t have time for that now. ‘Nothing’ would not make you crumple over in pain like this. Please, Marian, what happened?” he urged, his distress mounting with each second. What was going on?
“I … [gasp]…. He stabbed me, I think.”
“What! When? At Locksley?” Of course, at Locksley. Where else? Stop being an imbecile. He wanted to ask more questions, but now was not the time for questions.
Robin didn’t wait for a reply. On the battlefield, time is the enemy. Acting on his instincts, honed by so many years of violent loss, he tried to help Marian to straighten out on the ground so that he could see where exactly the problem was. She was so doubled-over in pain that it was hard to make her relax her clenched muscles. Panicking, Robin tried to adopt his best battlefield coping skills. “Easy, now, Marian. Just take deep breaths. I’m holding you. Just let your weight fall into my arms.” As she relaxed somewhat, Robin slowly arranged her in a sitting position and then finally laid her on her back. She was breathing hard and letting out a short groan with every exhalation. Something was seriously wrong, but in the failing forest light, Robin could not at first find the damage.
Then he saw the blood seeping through her trousers by her right hip and staining the fabric down her right leg. There was quite a lot of it-this was no scratch. “Marian!” he implored. “Why have you been walking about on your own without telling me?”
Marian moaned, “I th-thought I could get to your camp first. Then Djaq c-could help.” Talking was getting so difficult all of a sudden. “It didn’t feel so b-bad be-before.” She was shaking. For the first time Marian began to feel the edge of fear creep over her as she realized the truth of her statement. The wound was much worse than she had at first imagined. What damage had Guy done?
Robin quickly quelled his urge to question her, to admonish her for hiding the injury. That was all totally beside the point right now. He had to focus on the actual problem, which was that Marian was bleeding profusely from a wound of unknown severity, and the two of them were at least two miles from camp where the others were surely already arriving. Marian had seemed to be in no hurry to get there after their initial sprint from Locksley, and until now, Robin had relished the quiet walk in the woods with his secret love. It had been a blessed chance to talk to her and tell her of his plans to save her from a damnable marriage. He had been so caught up with his news about the testimony Gisborne’s doctor would surely give that he hadn’t really watched Marian or noted the signs that all was not well with her. Now he prayed that they hadn’t wasted precious time strolling among the trees when her wound should have been tended.
What could he do for her? Should she try to walk directly to camp since the damage was already done? He had to see the wound and gauge its depth. He wished he had seen the weapon Gisborne had used. It must have been small, something hidden in his hand or sleeve, but even small weapons could do lethal damage. And what if the blade had been poisoned? Robin thought in terror. Could that be why she is suddenly much worse? Robin bit down on this new source of panic. It would do no good to instill such a fear into Marian now. She needed all her courage and her strength to get back to camp.
“Marian, I have to see how bad this is. I’m sorry, but will you permit me to look?” A small piece of Robin’s brain registered that this was not how he had ever envisioned gaining his first intimate view of her body, but the worry that overwhelmed him prevented any such further thoughts. A whispered “yes” from Marian was all he needed. Quickly removing her belts and untying her trouser laces, Robin stole a glance to Marian’s face. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were compressed in a tight line. He could see that she was willing herself to hold steady. Not wanting to waste precious time, Robin turned back to the task at hand and gently pulled away layers of trouser and hosen fabric until he could see a full 3-inch cut, gaping slightly and oozing partially clotted blood. What was most distressing was that the blood seemed to be coming out in pulses. The bastard must have struck deep. The cut’s position defied all his elementary knowledge of first aid. There was no way for him to slow the flow of blood short of sitting there with his hand pressed down on the wound, nor was there any way for him to bandage a wound in such a position with the little he had about him. He could tie his shirt around her hips, but it would do no real good. Robin knew enough to realize that the pulsing was a terrible sign. That answered one question. Marian was not going to walk further. Somehow, he had to carry her. Or else, he had to run and get help. Which would be quickest? And best for Marian? The sight of such a serious wound on his dear Marian made his stomach churn and his head dizzy. Now he really had to fight his fears and focus on action, for his choices were becoming few indeed.
Robin knew he was no Little John, but he was stronger than he looked. And desperation always increases strength. Maybe he could carry her all the way. On the other hand, he was a fast runner, and perhaps it would be best to avoid moving Marian and instead bring the help to her.
“Robin?” Marian gasped. Robin realized he hadn’t moved for some moments and reached up to stroke her hair and calm her. “It’s all right, darling. We have to get you help, that’s all. I’m sure Djaq can handle this wound.” He was lying to her already. He wasn’t sure of anything except that Marian could walk no further. It paralyzed him, and he knew that was the worst that could happen right now. He needed to act. Robin took a deep breath. “Marian, I don’t think you should walk another step. You’ve lost some blood, well, a lot, you know, and walking will make that worse.” Robin paused to sort out his thoughts better. Mental images of her dying in a pool of blood kept threatening to overwhelm him. “Marian….”
“Robin, I’m afraid. Hold me.” Her face contorted in pain as she spoke these urgent words. For a moment, Robin didn’t know what to do. There was no time, but she needed time. And she needed to be held. Knowing he shouldn’t try to lift her at all, he lay on the ground next to her and touched his face to her pale, cold cheek. Wrapping his arm around her chest well above the damaged area, he spoke her name softly. He wanted so much to tell her he loved her, but he had been too neglectful of such words; to say them now would seem so trite and self-serving. Why had he not made his feelings clear before? What should he say now? “Marian, I will get you help. You’ll be just fine.” There it was. The same old dross-flamboyant promises that he might not be able to keep. No wonder she acted so fed up with him sometimes. But he was helpless to say more while her life’s blood seeped from her. He wanted to kiss her cheek but was afraid she’d be angry that he had taken advantage. In the end, he brushed his beard as if by accident against the corner of her mouth as he sat back up, sighing.
“Marian, look at me.” Her eyes fluttered open. “We have two choices. I can leave you here while I run to camp and bring back Djaq to help you, or….”
“Don’t leave m-me,” she interrupted. “I’m afraid … to b-be alone.” And her eyes showed her fear like he had never seen before.
She had never been afraid of the forest or the dark, Robin knew. Was she afraid of dying alone, while he was gone? Did she guess how bad it was? He stroked her cheek and tried to smile but failed. Bowing his head to avert his eyes, hoping she would not see the truth of his fears in them but realizing that such hope was already pointless, Robin said as levelly as he could, “Then I will have to carry you. Don’t worry. The camp is very close.” Another lie.
At that moment a flash of lightning underscored the necessity for haste. Robin stood and adjusted his bow on his left shoulder and across his body so that his arms were completely free. Then praying that he would find the strength to reach their destination, he knelt and slowly brought Marian into a sitting position. She hissed but suppressed all other sound. At that moment the crack of thunder reached their ears. Attempting to ignore the sound of the approaching storm, Robin lifted her arms. “Try to hold on. That will help me get you home more quickly.” He thought momentarily about how he had just said the word “home” and wondered what that really meant under the circumstances. Marian, however, simply nodded and clung tightly around his neck. Gently reaching under her back and knees, Robin tried to stand gracefully, but fear had made his muscles tense, and he jostled her as he stood up. “Sorry,” he blurted.
“Robin, thank you for helping me. Whatever happens.” Marian’s voice was weaker, now.
What did she mean? Her words, meant as an offering of peace, made Robin frantic. She must not speak of ‘whatever.’ “Shhh. Don’t talk. Keep your strength,” he admonished while his heart rebelled. Why was he shushing her when all he ever wanted was to hear her voice? How could he expect her to understand his heart when he could never say what he truly felt and he didn’t even let her speak?
Marian quickly fell silent, all her energy focused on staying conscious. Robin for his part wished he could keep talking to her, but the task of carrying her in the failing light occupied too much of his attention. Stepping carefully so as not to fall or disturb his precious burden, struggling to make the journey as quickly as possible, Robin found he had no breath for words even if there were any he could think to say.
The mutual and uneasy silence was broken now and then by approaching thunder claps. Robin tried desperately to hurry before the lightning caught up to them, but there was only so much speed he could muster. He was breathing hard now from the exertion, but he had just passed an old oak that told him he was halfway there. The sight was heartening, and he thought he might manage this feat, after all. Marian was quiet, eyes closed. He dared not stop to check her breathing. There was no time left for that. All that remained for him was to carry her back to camp. Then he would know if she still lived. Oh, God. Let her live. Please, I need to tell her. Give me time to tell her. He pulled her tightly to him, trying to better balance her weight against his. Her wound was now pressed hard against his own abdomen, and he hoped that the pressure would help slow the bleeding. Yet some bleeding continued. Soon he could distinctly feel her blood soaked into his trouser leg making it stick to his skin down to his knee.
One foot in front of the other. His head was swimming, but he must not fall. He wanted to concentrate on his task, but his thoughts wandered of their own accord. Did she hear him call her “darling”? It was an accident. He had once freely called her by many endearments-in the distant past, but he had not dared to say such words aloud since returning home to face her blame and society’s shame. No glory or fame, but that hardly mattered any more. What mattered is that he knew she was his darling. Did she know how much more he meant that word now than ever before? Did she understand how he had gone to the holy land only to learn the meaning of what it was to hold something dear? He hadn’t realized it at the time, but if God had taken him to the holy land for a purpose, then learning that particular lesson must have been part of it.
The sky opened up releasing a downpour. Robin blinked the stinging drops out of his eyes mindful of the slippery stones and mud now lying in his path, a path he could hardly see in the near darkness. Marian would be very wet and cold quite soon. He began to pray for sure footing. He thought he could feel the increased weight of her water-soaked clothing, and his arms burned with the sustained effort of carrying. When her grip around his neck began to loosen, he started to lose hope. A close lightning strike sizzled through the tree branches, and he gritted his teeth. He would get to camp somehow, or in the morning the gang would find both of their dead bodies lying together in the mud. He was exhausted and unable to shake the cramping pain penetrating his muscles. Marian now lay limp and apparently unconscious in his arms. He wasn’t sure that the option of lying down in the mud was such a bad idea, but somehow he trudged on. As the pain from his strained muscles became nearly unbearable, Robin remembered a similar time in the holy land when he had had to help Much back from a skirmish that had gone horribly wrong. Much had tried to walk, but for a good part of the way Robin had mostly dragged him along. The heat and his thirst had become unbearable, but remembering some sage advice from an old soldier, Robin had focused on the source of his pain, concentrated on his thirst, and lost track of time while his feet carried him forward. A good deal later, as the sun was disappearing over the horizon, he finally became aware again and realized he had succeeded in reaching the Crusader camp without understanding how. Trying to duplicate that effort this night in Sherwood, Robin focused all his thoughts on his aching body and dragging feet.
At first, the tactic failed him miserably. Nothing would quell his fear for Marian’s life and his inability to save her. He could barely admit to himself yet that it was at his instigation in the first place that the Nightwatchman had gone to Locksley last night. His heart pounded and his breathing grew ragged as his mind refused to quit dwelling on consequences. He wanted to scream-or sob-or curl up into a ball, as the cold rain poured off him in streams. Then a lightning flash came so close that he felt some of the searing jolt pass through his body. It hadn’t hurt him, but he was severely shaken. He looked at Marian in his arms, her grip around his neck gone lax, but then she whimpered. Whether she was conscious or not, he at least knew she was still alive, and with that, he found the mindless strength deep inside that he had been seeking.
It seemed only a moment later that the mouth of the cave stood before him. Robin was startled out of his daze by its sudden looming presence in the wild night. For a moment he thought no one was there, but of course they would all have to be deep inside where it was safe, dry and unseen. Staggering into the dark entrance, the rush of relief from having arrived at his destination sapped all of Robin’s remaining strength. Barely able to remain standing, he called for the one person whose powerful bulk he had thought about most as he had struggled against hope to carry Marian all this way.
“JOHN!” He hadn’t meant for the shout to be so loud. Unexpectedly, all his pain and fear came out in that one tortured vocal release. It did not matter. No stranger would be in the forest to hear him on such a bestial night as this. But what if no one answered? Suddenly a new panic gripped him. There was nothing left inside him, no strength of will to do anything but collapse with Marian where he stood. Despair began to wash over him once more. Moments later, however, John and Much and all the others did appear, with worried faces and helpful hands and bearing hot, bright torches out of the darkness. John took Marian inside. Djaq shouted directions, and they all disappeared back into the cave, scarcely noticing that he could not manage to follow. But he was not entirely abandoned. Much was trying to get his attention.
“Master? Master, you are soaked through! Come inside and get warm.” Much laid a hand on Robin’s arm, only then realizing how badly Robin was shaking. It wasn’t so much the cold that made him shake. The aftermath of his struggle to carry Marian had left him nearly too weak to stand.
“C-c-can’t w-walk further, Much-ch.” His teeth chattered from inner tremors deep inside. His knees threatened to buckle if he tried to move.
Much looked at Robin and guessed that he must have been carrying Marian a long while. Nearly half a day had passed since they had left Locksley, and Much, for one, had been very worried for some time. But mystery solved. Marian was in good hands, and it was just a matter of getting Robin inside, out of the wet clothes, and wrapped up warmly before the fire. “Here, let me help you in, Master. Hold on to my shoulder.” Much gripped Robin’s waist and half lifted him until his feet began to move in a forward motion. After some stumbling, the two of them made it into the main chamber of the cave. Much hauled Robin to the fire and began pulling off his hooded tunic and shirt as well as the sodden boots and foot rags. In moments, Robin was huddled on the ground, wrapped in dry bits of blankets and anything else Much could find for the purpose. A bedraggled and somewhat dazed outlaw looked up to see Djaq examining Marian while John held torches. “Much,” he whispered hoarsely. “She has to live.”
“Of course she will live, Master. You’ve saved her,” Much tutted.
Robin always envied Much his unvanquishable confidence in the justice of all things.
Fin
Author: Marji
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or Robin Hood, and I make no profit from them.
Word count: 3,308
Summary: Episode 1 x 12 scene filler following Marian’s collapse in the forest.
Warnings: (if there are any) Spoilers for the season one finale. Some slightly graphic description of a wound.
Author's Note: From my first viewing of this episode, I thought the gap between Marian’s collapse and Robin’s arrival at the cave was just begging to be filled in. That’s what I’ve tried to do here, but you will note that I took a little liberty with the beginning of the cave scene.
Thanks gratefully offered to my betas, hoodie622 and jas.
WHATEVER HAPPENS
Based on photo prompt
They had some distance yet to go before reaching the outlaw camp at the cave. Robin turned around to see what was keeping Marian. It was not like her to dillydally. The last sight he expected to see was of his beloved bent over and struggling to stand. “Marian! What is it?!”
“Unhh…. Is nothing-.” She uttered the meaningless words automatically while clearly failing to stand back up.
Robin’s eyes went wide with shock. “No, we don’t have time for that now. ‘Nothing’ would not make you crumple over in pain like this. Please, Marian, what happened?” he urged, his distress mounting with each second. What was going on?
“I … [gasp]…. He stabbed me, I think.”
“What! When? At Locksley?” Of course, at Locksley. Where else? Stop being an imbecile. He wanted to ask more questions, but now was not the time for questions.
Robin didn’t wait for a reply. On the battlefield, time is the enemy. Acting on his instincts, honed by so many years of violent loss, he tried to help Marian to straighten out on the ground so that he could see where exactly the problem was. She was so doubled-over in pain that it was hard to make her relax her clenched muscles. Panicking, Robin tried to adopt his best battlefield coping skills. “Easy, now, Marian. Just take deep breaths. I’m holding you. Just let your weight fall into my arms.” As she relaxed somewhat, Robin slowly arranged her in a sitting position and then finally laid her on her back. She was breathing hard and letting out a short groan with every exhalation. Something was seriously wrong, but in the failing forest light, Robin could not at first find the damage.
Then he saw the blood seeping through her trousers by her right hip and staining the fabric down her right leg. There was quite a lot of it-this was no scratch. “Marian!” he implored. “Why have you been walking about on your own without telling me?”
Marian moaned, “I th-thought I could get to your camp first. Then Djaq c-could help.” Talking was getting so difficult all of a sudden. “It didn’t feel so b-bad be-before.” She was shaking. For the first time Marian began to feel the edge of fear creep over her as she realized the truth of her statement. The wound was much worse than she had at first imagined. What damage had Guy done?
Robin quickly quelled his urge to question her, to admonish her for hiding the injury. That was all totally beside the point right now. He had to focus on the actual problem, which was that Marian was bleeding profusely from a wound of unknown severity, and the two of them were at least two miles from camp where the others were surely already arriving. Marian had seemed to be in no hurry to get there after their initial sprint from Locksley, and until now, Robin had relished the quiet walk in the woods with his secret love. It had been a blessed chance to talk to her and tell her of his plans to save her from a damnable marriage. He had been so caught up with his news about the testimony Gisborne’s doctor would surely give that he hadn’t really watched Marian or noted the signs that all was not well with her. Now he prayed that they hadn’t wasted precious time strolling among the trees when her wound should have been tended.
What could he do for her? Should she try to walk directly to camp since the damage was already done? He had to see the wound and gauge its depth. He wished he had seen the weapon Gisborne had used. It must have been small, something hidden in his hand or sleeve, but even small weapons could do lethal damage. And what if the blade had been poisoned? Robin thought in terror. Could that be why she is suddenly much worse? Robin bit down on this new source of panic. It would do no good to instill such a fear into Marian now. She needed all her courage and her strength to get back to camp.
“Marian, I have to see how bad this is. I’m sorry, but will you permit me to look?” A small piece of Robin’s brain registered that this was not how he had ever envisioned gaining his first intimate view of her body, but the worry that overwhelmed him prevented any such further thoughts. A whispered “yes” from Marian was all he needed. Quickly removing her belts and untying her trouser laces, Robin stole a glance to Marian’s face. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were compressed in a tight line. He could see that she was willing herself to hold steady. Not wanting to waste precious time, Robin turned back to the task at hand and gently pulled away layers of trouser and hosen fabric until he could see a full 3-inch cut, gaping slightly and oozing partially clotted blood. What was most distressing was that the blood seemed to be coming out in pulses. The bastard must have struck deep. The cut’s position defied all his elementary knowledge of first aid. There was no way for him to slow the flow of blood short of sitting there with his hand pressed down on the wound, nor was there any way for him to bandage a wound in such a position with the little he had about him. He could tie his shirt around her hips, but it would do no real good. Robin knew enough to realize that the pulsing was a terrible sign. That answered one question. Marian was not going to walk further. Somehow, he had to carry her. Or else, he had to run and get help. Which would be quickest? And best for Marian? The sight of such a serious wound on his dear Marian made his stomach churn and his head dizzy. Now he really had to fight his fears and focus on action, for his choices were becoming few indeed.
Robin knew he was no Little John, but he was stronger than he looked. And desperation always increases strength. Maybe he could carry her all the way. On the other hand, he was a fast runner, and perhaps it would be best to avoid moving Marian and instead bring the help to her.
“Robin?” Marian gasped. Robin realized he hadn’t moved for some moments and reached up to stroke her hair and calm her. “It’s all right, darling. We have to get you help, that’s all. I’m sure Djaq can handle this wound.” He was lying to her already. He wasn’t sure of anything except that Marian could walk no further. It paralyzed him, and he knew that was the worst that could happen right now. He needed to act. Robin took a deep breath. “Marian, I don’t think you should walk another step. You’ve lost some blood, well, a lot, you know, and walking will make that worse.” Robin paused to sort out his thoughts better. Mental images of her dying in a pool of blood kept threatening to overwhelm him. “Marian….”
“Robin, I’m afraid. Hold me.” Her face contorted in pain as she spoke these urgent words. For a moment, Robin didn’t know what to do. There was no time, but she needed time. And she needed to be held. Knowing he shouldn’t try to lift her at all, he lay on the ground next to her and touched his face to her pale, cold cheek. Wrapping his arm around her chest well above the damaged area, he spoke her name softly. He wanted so much to tell her he loved her, but he had been too neglectful of such words; to say them now would seem so trite and self-serving. Why had he not made his feelings clear before? What should he say now? “Marian, I will get you help. You’ll be just fine.” There it was. The same old dross-flamboyant promises that he might not be able to keep. No wonder she acted so fed up with him sometimes. But he was helpless to say more while her life’s blood seeped from her. He wanted to kiss her cheek but was afraid she’d be angry that he had taken advantage. In the end, he brushed his beard as if by accident against the corner of her mouth as he sat back up, sighing.
“Marian, look at me.” Her eyes fluttered open. “We have two choices. I can leave you here while I run to camp and bring back Djaq to help you, or….”
“Don’t leave m-me,” she interrupted. “I’m afraid … to b-be alone.” And her eyes showed her fear like he had never seen before.
She had never been afraid of the forest or the dark, Robin knew. Was she afraid of dying alone, while he was gone? Did she guess how bad it was? He stroked her cheek and tried to smile but failed. Bowing his head to avert his eyes, hoping she would not see the truth of his fears in them but realizing that such hope was already pointless, Robin said as levelly as he could, “Then I will have to carry you. Don’t worry. The camp is very close.” Another lie.
At that moment a flash of lightning underscored the necessity for haste. Robin stood and adjusted his bow on his left shoulder and across his body so that his arms were completely free. Then praying that he would find the strength to reach their destination, he knelt and slowly brought Marian into a sitting position. She hissed but suppressed all other sound. At that moment the crack of thunder reached their ears. Attempting to ignore the sound of the approaching storm, Robin lifted her arms. “Try to hold on. That will help me get you home more quickly.” He thought momentarily about how he had just said the word “home” and wondered what that really meant under the circumstances. Marian, however, simply nodded and clung tightly around his neck. Gently reaching under her back and knees, Robin tried to stand gracefully, but fear had made his muscles tense, and he jostled her as he stood up. “Sorry,” he blurted.
“Robin, thank you for helping me. Whatever happens.” Marian’s voice was weaker, now.
What did she mean? Her words, meant as an offering of peace, made Robin frantic. She must not speak of ‘whatever.’ “Shhh. Don’t talk. Keep your strength,” he admonished while his heart rebelled. Why was he shushing her when all he ever wanted was to hear her voice? How could he expect her to understand his heart when he could never say what he truly felt and he didn’t even let her speak?
Marian quickly fell silent, all her energy focused on staying conscious. Robin for his part wished he could keep talking to her, but the task of carrying her in the failing light occupied too much of his attention. Stepping carefully so as not to fall or disturb his precious burden, struggling to make the journey as quickly as possible, Robin found he had no breath for words even if there were any he could think to say.
The mutual and uneasy silence was broken now and then by approaching thunder claps. Robin tried desperately to hurry before the lightning caught up to them, but there was only so much speed he could muster. He was breathing hard now from the exertion, but he had just passed an old oak that told him he was halfway there. The sight was heartening, and he thought he might manage this feat, after all. Marian was quiet, eyes closed. He dared not stop to check her breathing. There was no time left for that. All that remained for him was to carry her back to camp. Then he would know if she still lived. Oh, God. Let her live. Please, I need to tell her. Give me time to tell her. He pulled her tightly to him, trying to better balance her weight against his. Her wound was now pressed hard against his own abdomen, and he hoped that the pressure would help slow the bleeding. Yet some bleeding continued. Soon he could distinctly feel her blood soaked into his trouser leg making it stick to his skin down to his knee.
One foot in front of the other. His head was swimming, but he must not fall. He wanted to concentrate on his task, but his thoughts wandered of their own accord. Did she hear him call her “darling”? It was an accident. He had once freely called her by many endearments-in the distant past, but he had not dared to say such words aloud since returning home to face her blame and society’s shame. No glory or fame, but that hardly mattered any more. What mattered is that he knew she was his darling. Did she know how much more he meant that word now than ever before? Did she understand how he had gone to the holy land only to learn the meaning of what it was to hold something dear? He hadn’t realized it at the time, but if God had taken him to the holy land for a purpose, then learning that particular lesson must have been part of it.
The sky opened up releasing a downpour. Robin blinked the stinging drops out of his eyes mindful of the slippery stones and mud now lying in his path, a path he could hardly see in the near darkness. Marian would be very wet and cold quite soon. He began to pray for sure footing. He thought he could feel the increased weight of her water-soaked clothing, and his arms burned with the sustained effort of carrying. When her grip around his neck began to loosen, he started to lose hope. A close lightning strike sizzled through the tree branches, and he gritted his teeth. He would get to camp somehow, or in the morning the gang would find both of their dead bodies lying together in the mud. He was exhausted and unable to shake the cramping pain penetrating his muscles. Marian now lay limp and apparently unconscious in his arms. He wasn’t sure that the option of lying down in the mud was such a bad idea, but somehow he trudged on. As the pain from his strained muscles became nearly unbearable, Robin remembered a similar time in the holy land when he had had to help Much back from a skirmish that had gone horribly wrong. Much had tried to walk, but for a good part of the way Robin had mostly dragged him along. The heat and his thirst had become unbearable, but remembering some sage advice from an old soldier, Robin had focused on the source of his pain, concentrated on his thirst, and lost track of time while his feet carried him forward. A good deal later, as the sun was disappearing over the horizon, he finally became aware again and realized he had succeeded in reaching the Crusader camp without understanding how. Trying to duplicate that effort this night in Sherwood, Robin focused all his thoughts on his aching body and dragging feet.
At first, the tactic failed him miserably. Nothing would quell his fear for Marian’s life and his inability to save her. He could barely admit to himself yet that it was at his instigation in the first place that the Nightwatchman had gone to Locksley last night. His heart pounded and his breathing grew ragged as his mind refused to quit dwelling on consequences. He wanted to scream-or sob-or curl up into a ball, as the cold rain poured off him in streams. Then a lightning flash came so close that he felt some of the searing jolt pass through his body. It hadn’t hurt him, but he was severely shaken. He looked at Marian in his arms, her grip around his neck gone lax, but then she whimpered. Whether she was conscious or not, he at least knew she was still alive, and with that, he found the mindless strength deep inside that he had been seeking.
It seemed only a moment later that the mouth of the cave stood before him. Robin was startled out of his daze by its sudden looming presence in the wild night. For a moment he thought no one was there, but of course they would all have to be deep inside where it was safe, dry and unseen. Staggering into the dark entrance, the rush of relief from having arrived at his destination sapped all of Robin’s remaining strength. Barely able to remain standing, he called for the one person whose powerful bulk he had thought about most as he had struggled against hope to carry Marian all this way.
“JOHN!” He hadn’t meant for the shout to be so loud. Unexpectedly, all his pain and fear came out in that one tortured vocal release. It did not matter. No stranger would be in the forest to hear him on such a bestial night as this. But what if no one answered? Suddenly a new panic gripped him. There was nothing left inside him, no strength of will to do anything but collapse with Marian where he stood. Despair began to wash over him once more. Moments later, however, John and Much and all the others did appear, with worried faces and helpful hands and bearing hot, bright torches out of the darkness. John took Marian inside. Djaq shouted directions, and they all disappeared back into the cave, scarcely noticing that he could not manage to follow. But he was not entirely abandoned. Much was trying to get his attention.
“Master? Master, you are soaked through! Come inside and get warm.” Much laid a hand on Robin’s arm, only then realizing how badly Robin was shaking. It wasn’t so much the cold that made him shake. The aftermath of his struggle to carry Marian had left him nearly too weak to stand.
“C-c-can’t w-walk further, Much-ch.” His teeth chattered from inner tremors deep inside. His knees threatened to buckle if he tried to move.
Much looked at Robin and guessed that he must have been carrying Marian a long while. Nearly half a day had passed since they had left Locksley, and Much, for one, had been very worried for some time. But mystery solved. Marian was in good hands, and it was just a matter of getting Robin inside, out of the wet clothes, and wrapped up warmly before the fire. “Here, let me help you in, Master. Hold on to my shoulder.” Much gripped Robin’s waist and half lifted him until his feet began to move in a forward motion. After some stumbling, the two of them made it into the main chamber of the cave. Much hauled Robin to the fire and began pulling off his hooded tunic and shirt as well as the sodden boots and foot rags. In moments, Robin was huddled on the ground, wrapped in dry bits of blankets and anything else Much could find for the purpose. A bedraggled and somewhat dazed outlaw looked up to see Djaq examining Marian while John held torches. “Much,” he whispered hoarsely. “She has to live.”
“Of course she will live, Master. You’ve saved her,” Much tutted.
Robin always envied Much his unvanquishable confidence in the justice of all things.
Fin