"I'm leaving, Much."

There was a brief silence filled with the buzz of insects and the rustle of the wind in the tall grass on the hillside. His master looked at him with gleaming blue eyes, clearly expecting to see his pride and excitement reciprocated. But all Much could do was repeat, "Leaving?"

"I'm taking the cross. I'm going to the Holy Land to fight for King Richard."

The words were not unexpected. Robin often spoke of England's new king and his valor in battle with the same gleam in his eyes. But he had a life here, an estate to run. No finer place in England, Much thought as he looked down at the village of Locksley, his home. What was Locksley without its lord? Would it still feel like home when Robin was gone?

How can you leave it behind? he wanted to cry out. How can you leave me behind? But he knew that a nobleman was expected to place his duty to the king above all else. What could he do, then, except wish Robin well?

"It has truly been an honor to serve you, Master," he said at last, his voice shaking slightly. "I promise that I will…take care of things while you're away."

Robin grinned. "No, you won't."

Much shifted uncomfortably. "Of course I will."

"No, you won't," Robin repeated, "because you won't be here."

Won't be here? Surely Robin didn't mean…but Much could think of no other explanation. He had devoted the past five years to serving his master's every need; he would give his life for him if need be. Had he truly been such a disappointment? "But…but where will I go?"

Robin chuckled. "To the Holy Land with me, of course." He gave Much's shoulder a gentle shove. "Did you think I was dismissing you?"

Much nearly doubled over in relief, then blushed fiercely. "Of course not," he said with a nervous laugh. Wait…Robin had said something else. When he remembered it, his eyes widened in surprise. "I'm going to the Holy Land?"

"Why not? Every soldier needs a squire."

"Me, a squire?" Much asked incredulously. Even if he were not a mere serf, he would be of little use as a squire. He knew how to feed his master and mend his clothes, but protecting him on the battlefield? "Master, what good am I in a fight?"

"You can learn," Robin assured him. "We won't be leaving for some time. But Much-" he placed a hand on Much's shoulder, "-you have more than fulfilled your duties as my servant. If you do not wish to do this…"

Again, Much looked down at the peaceful village that was his home, the children playing in the fields while cattle grazed nearby. Was he prepared to leave it for a war oceans away in the barren desert? Looking back at his master, he knew there was no choice. If Robin asked, Much would follow him to the ends of the earth.

"It does sound rather exciting. You and me, brothers in arms." Despite his misgivings, a grin spread across his face as he imagined the two of them riding side by side against the enemy. Perhaps he'd even get to meet the king himself. How many serfs could claim that honor?

Robin smiled. "Then you'll come?"

Much squinted at the sun and breathed in the scent of fresh grass and field flowers, and wondered what the Holy Land would be like. "I will."