We the people By Rosa17
Three stories in one, I hope you will be able to follow it. Contains some series 2 content.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.
Part 1
1214
Much sighed with frustration and bitterness as all he held dear was taken away, in one fell swoop. He watched as the King's men stripped him of everything he owned, including his land and his home. They forced their way into the lodge and threw him out with a power that brought tears to the sensitive man's eyes. He had longed to die at Bonchurch, ever since he had been granted the lands by Richard in, 1195. Now it was all gone. Where was he to go? He didn't have any family, not to call his own.
He sadly recalled his son, and his wife who had died within moments of each other, days after his son was born. It seemed he was doomed not to have loved ones round him. The only other people who were as close as family, but not of his bloodline were the infamous Locksley's. Much knew in his heart that the only place he could go to was there.
Locksley still thrived where other places did not, and Much did not know the reason for this. Robin was out of favour with the King as much as he himself, and yet he still held onto his lands. Perhaps it had something to do with the allegiance he had with Richard and the disposal of the Black Knights, despite John now being King of England. Much didn't know. No one told him the ins and outs of everything back then in the good old days, or now in the days, which seemed far worse than they had ever been before.
Taking a small leather bag containing all that he was permitted to keep, he walked the short distance to Locksley. It had been raining; warm summer rain, and children were now out splashing in the puddles.
The Manor house stood like a beacon at the far end of the town. It had been extended in recent years but still resembled the only home Much had known as a young man. He had grown up on the Locksley estate, his father working for the then Robert of Huntingdon. When his own father died, he found himself the manservant of the cheeky and somewhat arrogant, but clever and principled son and heir of the manor, Robin.
Robin, to this day he was his best friend. And that was why Much had not told him of the impending visit from the King's men. Robin would have defended him in an instant, but Much did not want that. The truth was after he lost his wife Ann and his son whom he named Arthur, life at Bonchurch was simply not the same. If Arthur had lived he would have been ten years old. It hurt everyday and that was one reason he avoided Locksley to a point, for everywhere he looked he saw children. Serf's and peasant's children, but most of all Robin's children.
Robin's children; two of which were now waving at him in great excitement, he gave a half hearted wave in return. Well this was it, this was where he had to tell Robin his fate and beg on his mercy to ask him to take him in. Into a home that was filled with love, laughter, a few fights along the way, a house full of servants and a full quiver of children.
Before he knew it the two children were about his legs and he ruffled the boy's hair and stroked the girl's cheek. They each took one of 'Uncle' Much's hands and dragged him into the middle of the manor house to the hall. Here it was a mass of activity, more children appeared and Much hardly knew where they all came from, but they were not all Locksley offspring.
His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. When he got through the sea of children, the raised voices of the adults caught his attention. Now he wanted to leave, he had arrived at an inopportune moment, just his style. He reprimanded himself and sighed. The children took him to the table, sat him down then fetched him a plate of food and a cup of mead. He tucked in, noticing the two children sat and watched him, he smiled at them. Soon the noise from the argument Robin was having with his wife faded into insignificance over his food.
As Lady Locksley stormed out of the house Robin sunk onto the bench and rested his head on his arms, across the table from his former manservant. When he looked up he finally registered that Much was there.
Much looked back at him haplessly. "I have nowhere else to go."
"The King took Bonchurch?" Robin asked unsurprised.
"Yes." Much replied.
Much noticed that Robin suddenly looked older, no longer was he the young sprightly fellow who he had followed to the Holy Land and back. But they were all older, considered old men now, well into their forties. Robin smiled, the old smile Much remembered so well and Much knew that everything was going to be alright.
"'Uncle' Much," a voice said which belonged to a boy whose voice was breaking. He gave Much, 'a Robin' sort of grin and sat opposite his father.
"Marcus," Much greeted in reply.
Marcus grinned again and looked at Robin. He resembled his mother in hair colour and temperament, but had Robin's father's eyes. He was gangly and seemed to out grow his clothes by the week. There was no doubt he was deemed to be taller than his father, or even his elder brother, who topped Robin by a good two inches already at sixteen.
"What?" Robin asked.
"Tristan's back. Mother walked to the forest alone. You fought about Tris didn't you?"
Robin looked at Marcus who had given too much information away already to Much.
"Again? He just wants to be a man. He wants to be like you. He is like you twenty five years ago Robin." Much told Robin, with utter conviction.
"Now you sound like my wife." Robin replied wryly.
"Good, because she is right. You should listen to her more than you do." Much told him, wagging his index finger at his best friend.
Robin jerked forward as Tristan slapped him hard upon the back and sat down beside him. Tristan was the child most like Robin and perhaps that was why they often rubbed each other the wrong way. And why also that Robin's wife loved him, and believed in her son as she did.
"Where…." Robin began but Tristan cut him off.
"Not now Father. Where is Mother? I must speak with her, she was right." He replied his eyes clouding over with love.
Marcus laughed, and said to his older brother in mock innocence. "How is Elizabeth?"
"Beautiful," Tristan replied. "Gorgeous."
Robin muttered something under his breath about his son being a fool to mess with a girl of a man who was in allegiance to the King. Pushing himself up to stand he said to Much. "My friend you have a place here with us for the rest of your days. Please excuse me while I go and make amends with my wife."
"I swear," Tristan said after his father had left. "That he fights with Mother on purpose just so they can kiss and make up."
Much rolled his eyes and the elder two boys of the household just laughed with the two younger children sniggering alongside.