by Kate Danley
But as she wound up the stair, a knight in chain mail came towards her. He was wearing a surcoat marking he was a man of the king, but it was a lie. He was not a stranger, but a man who fell outside the law and was her only hope.
She leaned against the wall, resting her forehead against the back of her hand as she tried not to let the darkness engulf her.
"Oh, Robin..." whispered Marian. "They mean to hang John."
Robin's face paled. "So it is to happen? How soon? Where?"
"On the castle green," she replied. "For the murder of the guard when he freed you. Hung... and worse. He is kept in the prison, but in two days’ time, he will be taken out and executed as an example to all who might follow you."
"Well," said Robin with finality. "We must show them, indeed, what happens to those who follow me."
Her words caught in her throat. "I am also to be engaged to be married," she confessed.
"What?" asked Robin, the shocked tone in his voice cutting through the gentle whispers.
She tried to be strong. "Sir Guy of Gisborne will be traveling to my uncle to ask for my hand. He will be away from the castle. Perhaps you can use it to your advantage to free John."
"Or free you—" began Robin in revulsion and resolve.
"If my uncle or I refuse him, the Sheriff will come after my family, naming them as conspirators in John's misdeeds. If we accept the offer, the Sheriff will say nothing. John will hang, but my uncle will not hang with him."
The resigned horror on her face struck Robin's heart. Silently, she brushed passed him, but he took her arm as she passed, holding the crook to his lips, and holding her there. She turned her face away so he could not see her heartbreak.
"I will not allow that to happen," whispered Robin.
"There is no other way," she replied.
She slid her arm away from him. But just as the comforting shadows engulfed her, there he was, quiet at her side, muscles pressed against her as his strong arms surrounded her. His lips were urgent on her mouth, the silence of their love creating a stolen moment of safety where, for both of them, the world could stop.
He stepped away and they continued in their separate directions, alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The sky was blue and the heat of a secret summer slipped into what should have been a cool, fall day. Dying leaves fell from Nottingham's trees, leaving the branches bare.
The men gathered inside Much's brewhouse. It was absent of guests. Everyone else was making their way to the castle green for the hanging. Much kept Robin's men busy rolling out the casks of ale for the festivities.
"It just seems wrong," said Much, wiping a table as he watched another barrel went out the door. "All of this celebration for the death of a man. And not just a man, our friend. Our friend!"
"It will be over soon," said Robin, resting his hand on Much's shoulder. "One way or the other, it will be done soon."
Much heaved a sigh. "My father used to take me to the hangings, and then beat me afterward to make sure I'd never forget it."
"Well, Much, if we have any say, there will be just one man beaten tonight," said Robin, "and only the miraculous lack of hangings for the children to remember."
"What if they find out?" hissed Much. "What if the Sheriff finds out I'm the reason you and all these men got into the castle?"
"Then we die." Robin shrugged as Much's face blanched. "Although if the Sheriff lives longer than us, I'm sure that there will be many in this town who think an early death is a kindness."
"Ooooooh..." said Much, picking up an empty tankard and wiping it out so hard, it seemed he might sand it down. "It's not good, Robin. It's not good at all."
"Just keep the Sheriff's men drinking at the hanging," said Robin. "Give away as much ale as you can as quickly as you can. Sleepy men with muddled heads are easier to defeat than those who are awake and sharp."
"Right," said Much, repeating the words as if they were a mantra. "Free ale to anyone who wants it today and lots of it."
Robin pulled out a clanking bag from the front of his tunic and placed it in Much's hand. He curled his friend's fingers around the silver. "Keep the spirits flowing. Our spirits may depend on it."
Much nodded in agreement and understanding. Robin gave him an encouraging nod and then walked out to the door.
A cart stood outside loaded with barrels. "Ready to go?" he asked.
"Straight through the gates," said the unsuspecting driver.
"A gift for the soldiers who keep the people of Nottingham safe from the likes of Robin Hood!" declared Robin. He patted the horse's withers.
"It will be most welcome," the driver noted, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Take some for yourself," said Robin, with feigned sympathy. "What a day! Such heat! A guardsman carrying heavy barrels and driving on hot, dusty roads? Give me your drinking vessel and wait here!" He walked inside the tavern, poured a cup for the driver, and brought it out. "For your troubles, kind sir."
The driver took the horn from Robin's hand and lifted it in thanks. "A happy hanging day to us all!"
"The miscreant has gotten exactly what he deserved," replied Robin through a forced smile.
The driver turned the wagon towards the castle and Robin gave him a cheerful wave as he went. But Robin marked the driver's face as someone to trouble on the road if their paths ever crossed in Sherwood Forest.
Suddenly, a young man came tearing down the cobblestones to Robin. He wore the courtly dress and soft pointed shoes of a page. He stopped, bending over to catch his breath. "Robin?" he gasped.
Robin was immediately on alert. "What name did you call me?" Robin asked, terrified there were others who knew him, who might be watching.
The page gestured it was all right. "You saved my sister," said the boy. "My sister was starving, her husband killed in the Barons' War. You left her enough money to survive to the harvest. I always swore I'd repay the kindness if I ever had a chance."
Robin had no idea who his sister might have been or how he had helped her, but he nodded. "Go on."
"I was standing in the alcove, holding the wine for the Sheriff and Sir Guy when I overheard them talking. Sir Guy's left for the forest. Maid Marian told me to find you and tell you." He held out the bit of embroidery Robin had given to Marian. "She said if you saw this, you'd know everything I say is true."
Robin took the embroidery from the boy, the delicate threads suddenly heavier than lead. "You're not making sense," he said. He was already aware that Sir Guy would be making his way into the forest to ask Sir Richard for Marian's hand. Their entire plan hinged on it. As soon as Sir Guy left, they would make their move to rescue Little John.
"The Sheriff told Sir Guy you'd be coming to save John Little. He said that Sir Guy should kill John's family and bring back their heads on pikes, so that even if John Little lives, he'll wish that he was dead." The boy gulped. "I think he wanted me to hear. I can't be sure. Maid Marian said it didn't matter. Sir Guy said he was going to 'stalk the beast that stalks them.' Maid Marian wants you to know you'll only have time to save John or John's family, but you'll have to choose. She said the Sheriff planned everything so that you'll only have time to save one."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Robin's heart pounded as he rode into Sherwood Forest. Sweat prickled on his brow as he gave the horse his head and urged him into a gallop. His was torn in two. He wanted nothing more than to save Little John, but his friend would not want a lifetime without his wife and children. In fact, he would not put it past John to take his own life if he learned his family no longer walked the earth, especially as the price of his escape. There was no decision to be made. Robin was doing what his best friend would want.
That did not mean he liked it.
Robin hoped the knight would only have a vague recollection of Robin from that day so long ago on the archery field. He also wore the chainmail he stole in Nottingham Castle. He hoped that Sir Guy would dismiss him as just another nameless guard.
His horse cornered the bend and Robin pulled the animal hard into a walk. Sir Guy was right in front of him, mere feet away. Robin did not even have a chance to pull out his weapon. Sir Guy's mount was hitched to a low bush, and he was walking back onto the road, adjusting his tights beneath his tunic. Sir Guy looked up at Robin with puzzlement.
"What brings a guard of Nottingham pounding down the road?" asked Sir Guy, placing his hand on his sword. "Surely not a change in orders."
Robin panicked. He was too close. He had imagined he'd see Sir Guy in the distance. Sir Guy would cut him down before he could even get his arrow nocked. He didn't think his horse would obey a command to trample Sir Guy. Without thinking, Robin switched his voice to the accents of the townspeople and replied, "I'm to escort you."
The delay in response may have been too long. Sir Guy's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And why would the Sheriff feel that was fitting?"
Robin shrugged. "Just obeying me orders, sir." He looked around, trying to figure out how to do the deed. Rash decisions had gotten them into this trouble and dying now would not help Little John's family.
"Really," said Sir Guy. He folded his arms. "And are you... good with a blade? Do you understand the nature of what we are setting out to do?"
Robin shrugged again and jerked his thumb towards the quiver on his back. "Better with the arrow, Sir Guy. But I can swing a blade in a fight."
"Hmm," said Sir Guy, appraising Robin. He wandered over to his horse and rested his hands on the saddle for a moment. He then turned back to face Robin. "You know, I like to know the skills of a man before we go into a battle together. Just so I know what weaknesses might get me killed. And vice versa. What do you say we have a test of archery? It would be so lovely if we could wipe out this family of snot-nosed offspring without getting dirty."
Sir Guy watched Robin for any show of resistance, any sign that he might balk at a massacre of innocents. Robin kept his face steely and cold, despite the bitter hatred blazing in his soul for this man. Instead, Robin gathered his things and dismounted. "Very well, sir. Where shall we shoot?"
Sir Guy ran his thumb along his lip, considering Robin and then looked down the road. "Do you see that knot in that tree down at the next bend?"
Robin squinted. "It's a fair pace, but I think I see it, sir."
"Strike it with your arrow and you may come with me. Miss, and I'll have no use for you."
Robin made a show of gulping nervously. "I'm not sure I'm seeing the right knot. Would you hit it first, sir, and then I'll know for sure?"
Sir Guy smiled. He took his bow and arrow from behind his horse's saddle. "Quite wise. Wouldn't want you to aim for the wrong mark and be disqualified for stupidity." He pulled back his arrow and sent it flying. Down, far in the distance, it struck the trunk of the tree and buried itself into the wood. He stepped aside. "Your turn."
Robin made a show of nervously planting his feet. He pulled out his arrow and nocked it on his bow. "I’m not as good an archer as you, Sir Guy. Just know that. I'm here for your protection from outlaws. It'll be luck if I hit it."
Sir Guy gave him an oily smile. "Try anyway."
And then Robin, certain that Sir Guy knew something was not right, decided to show him the archer he was up against. He let his arrow fly and it struck the center of Sir Guy's arrow and splintered it through.
"There is only one man I know who could shoot an arrow that well," said Guy, pulling out his sword. "And he goes by the name of Robin Hood."
"Then you know me," replied Robin, throwing down his bow and quiver and pulling out his own sword. "Alas, not for long."
And then their swords clashed.
Robin gasped at the strength of Sir Guy's blow. His strike quaked his bones like thunder. Then came another. And another. Sweat began to pour from Robin's brow. His joints felt like they would be battered from their sockets.
Sir Guy merely smiled. "The Sheriff knew you would try to stop me. I am to chop off your head and bring it to the gallows, playing a horn as I ride so all may see your fall. I think I shall place your bloody skull in the lap of Maid Marian as a wedding gift."
Robin dug deep and looked for moments to attack. He wanted nothing more than to wipe Guy's smile from the face of the earth. He could not allow himself to be baited into distraction, could not allow himself to stumble at the image of Marian holding his corpse.
"You are nothing more than a little green man, living in the little green forest, filled with the world's outcasts," hissed Sir Guy. His blade scraped along Robin's, almost to the hilt. "When you die, no one shall remember you. You shall be struck from the record and fade into nothing, peasant." He then shot his free fist at Robin's nose.
Expecting the move, Robin dodged away.
So, the fight will be dirty, he noted.
Robin thought of how this man enslaved good men like Little John into the Sheriff's guard. He thought of the way he leered at Maid Marian and how that would be her fate forever unless he won. He thought of the fire and the smoke of his burning home, and the death of his father, and how this man believed it was the right thing to do. How many more sons and daughters would hold their dead parents if this man was allowed to live?
He attacked with rage.
Over fallen tree trunks and down steep hollows, into streams and up their banks, they went.
It was a battle to the death fueled by hatred. A moment of rest, no matter how much they both wanted it, was a moment where their opponent might gain the strength to regain the upper hand. Neither was willing to cede that advantage to the other, not when it meant one would live and the other would die.
Robin's breath burned in his lungs. His arms screamed from the pain of hoisting his sword. He leaped on top of a stump, hoping to gain some downward advantage. Instead, he cried as Guy's sword stabbed his arm, pricking through his chainmail and breaking his skin. His ankle turned and he fell.
He scrambled to his feet. Sir Guy saw the blood and weakness and it was as if his energy had returned tenfold. It seemed the advantage he had been looking for and he pressed Robin back.
Robin stumbled on a tree root and fell again to the ground. He crawled backward until he was pressed against the rough bark of an ancient oak. Her limbs, though wide and strong, stretched across the sky and could not reach down to protect him.
Guy relished the moment, relished the sight of this powerless outlaw squirming as death came. "I have waited for this." He lifted his sword slowly and advanced. Robin's arm tried to hoist his own heavy steel, but refused.
This was the end.
The face in the gnarled tree gazed down upon the blood he spilled on her roots.
"Old gods!" Robin whispered from the depths of his need.
"Old gods of Sherwood... do not desert me..." Robin shouted, invoking his call.
Sir Guy actually paused, then he laughed at Robin's words. "Pray as hard as you want to the devil for salvation. There is none for you."
The ghostly owl should not have been flying through the forest.
She should have been asleep.
She should have ceded the daylight to the falcon and eagle.
But She had heard him.
Mankind forgets.
He makes himself tidy laws and human feuds.
He forgets his bones can be crushed to dust beneath mountains of stone and storms, torn by the claws of Her beasts and devoured, starved by Her heat and denied Her rain. And no matter the size of his kingdom, his treasury, his brood, he will always return to the dirt where he was made.
Man forgets he is meat.
And Guy had come into Her domain, this Land of Sherwood Forest, thinking he had power.
He should have known to hide.
The owl swept Her talons across Guy's scalp, leaving deep rivers of blood. He raised his arm, crying to protect himself.
And as he did, Robin rose to his feet.
Taking his blade, he reached inside and drew from his last reserve of strength. With a mighty cry, he swept
the hungry steel across Guy's fragile throat.
Guy dropped his sword and, gurgling, lifted his hand to the blossoming scarlet bubbling from his windpipe. It seeped through his fingers and baptized the ground, giving his life back to the earth. He fell to his knees, and then prostrated himself in defeat.
And then, with a quiet twitch, he was gone.
Robin trembled in exhaustion and disbelief.
All the horrors created by Sir Guy's hand, the lives taken, the towering fear, it faded as the life dimmed in his eyes.
A man so mighty now was nothing.
He was dead, and everyone would be glad.
Robin fell to the ground, almost as still as the corpse beside him.
The hungry owl landed upon Sir Guy and began to eat her kill.
"Thank you," Robin whispered.
The owl looked at him once and blinked, cold and cruel, and then went back to her task.
Robin stared up at the branches of the old oak tree. He wanted nothing more than to stop, to rest for a moment, to sleep.
Instead, he stood.
For the day was still far from won.
When the owl had taken her fill of the sacrificial offering and flown away, Robin removed Guy's clothing. The bile rose in his throat, but this time, he did not shirk. He took his sword and hacked off Sir Guy's head from his shoulders. Guy's face was so marred by the owl, no one would recognize it, but he struck it a few more times to be sure. Robin then took off his own shirt and tied the skull inside the cloth.
He left the body to be reclaimed by the forest.
He heard the predators emerge as soon as he was gone. A howl from a wolf followed him as he walked down to the stream to wash. He cleaned his blade and rinsed the dark red from his palms. He did not spend too long. He knew there would be more blood on his hands soon. He took his knife and cut his black curls into the even, short style that Guy wore. He used the water to part and comb his hair to the side. And finally, he dressed in Guy's clothing and stepped into the man's shoes.
He replaced Guy's bow and arrows with his own, and strapped the quiver to his back. He placed the knight's head in the man's saddlebag and mounted Sir Guy's horse. He had to get back before John was hung, and looking at the sky, he did not have long at all.