The story is set in pre-series to the Robin Hood BBC show.
Robin of Locksley is almost mortally wounded by the masked Saracen in regicide attempt on King Richard's life in Acre. In reality, the masked Saracen is Guy of Gisborne. They fight and Guy fails to flee as he is gravely injured by Robin. Will Robin and Guy survive? How can their relationship be different?
I'd like to thank Penelope Clemence for her original idea and her help in writing this story.
I don't own Robin Hood BBC and the characters.
The King's Favorite and the Masked Saracen
Chapter 1
Unexpected Saracen Attack
It was a cold night in the Holy Land. After the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, the temperature plummeted, and by midnight it was almost freezing. The dark canvas was star-spangled and seemed endless, the sheen of the moon painting it silver. The beauty of the sky, a symbol of freedom, made the night a little more tolerable among the monotonous yellow dunes.
Stillness reigned in the Crusaders' camp located just outside the walls of Acre. It seemed that not a soul was awake at that late hour. Only several guards were on their posts, guarding the entrance to the camp and all the existing paths that might be used to sneak into the camp unnoticed. Two guards stood near the King of England's large tent, their hands at the hilts of their swords.
In his tent, Sir Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Captain of King Richard's Private Guard, slept on a canopied, large wooden bed, with a headboard carved in elaborate designs.
Everyone could say that it was a tent occupied by a man of a royal favorite. In the tent, there were expensive hangings and fine silk bedding sheets and pillows, some splendid pieces of furniture, and luxurious Turkish rugs with countless soft pillows thrown on them. Much, Robin's loyal servant, slept on a narrow makeshift bed near Robin's bed.
It was a difficult day for Captain Locksley. Robin had several meetings with King Richard, and they discussed the current ceasefire and the terms of its continuation they planned to present to Saladin's generals. Talks of peace had become usual many months ago, but this time, there was a real chance that the Crusaders would sign a long-awaited peace treaty with Saladin.
Yet, Richard still sought new allies against Saladin. As a result, today Robin had to entertain Rashid ad-Din Sinan, also known as the Old Man of the Mountain. He was the grand-Master of the Assassins of Syria and was at odds with Saladin since he replaced the Fatimids of Egypt many years ago. Peace negotiations and simultaneous search for new allies in the region were the strategies which didn't let Robin hope for the quick end of the peace negotiations. At least they had the ceasefire in the past four months, and they didn't have to fight every day.
In the Holy Land, Robin had a reputation of the brave Captain Locksley. On the battlefield, he was a professional bloodthirsty soldier who killed, killed, and killed, never letting himself think of being killed. He fought with natural grace, dark beauty, and murderous skills, outwitting Saracens in battles and never thinking of failure, which helped him win all the battles he had led or participated in. Robin's name was spoken in the Holy Land with adoration, fascination, envy, and fear; his enemies knew his reputation in the war, and they feared him in the battle.
Robin was well known for his high sense of honor and humanity; he was one of the few Crusaders who was against massacring Saracen women and children; there were cases when he commanded his men to ensure that children and women had been escorted out of the towns and villages, which were captured by the Crusaders. Robin was respected by his enemies for his honor and humanity. The dauntless assassins – the assassins of Masyaf and of Syria – also respected Robin and even agreed to have alliance negotiations with King Richard the Lionheart.
King Richard loved Robin most of all among his knights and held him in the highest favor. It was said that Robin of Locksley was the King's grand favorite, rivaled only by Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, the Captain of the Second Guard of the King's own forces and Robin's close friend. Huntingdon and Leicester were the most beloved knights of the King of England. Robin's men from the Private Guard adored and loved their Captain, who was a good leader and a talented military commander, who knew how to lead and inspire others.
Robin was the best marksman in King Richard's army, if not in all Christian troops in Outremer. Robin was a man of average height and had a lithe, slender complexion, which was far from ideal knightly attributes, but he still was an excellent swordsman, without exaggeration one of the best swordsmen in Christian troops and, of course, in the King's Private Guard he himself headed. His murderous skills with a sword and a bow were ideal for non-stop, brutal slaughter and massacres.
Despite the King's great favor, nobody could say that Robin hadn't deserved his high-ranking position in the King's troops as it was given to him due to the King's acknowledgment of his military talents. He had demonstrated the potential of a skilled soldier and a military strategist in the battle of Messina on Sicily, when Tancred of Lecce seized power after the death of his cousin King William II of Sicily and kept Princess Joan Plantagenet, Dowager Queen of Sicily, as a prisoner, demanding her to marry him.
King Richard had attacked and had subdued the city of Messina, and his knights had saved his sister. Robin had displayed tremendous courage and excellent warrior skills when he alone, without other Richard's soldiers, had managed to sneak into the tower, where Princess Joanna's had been held prisoner; he had taken her out of the prison and into Richard's camp, to her brother's warm embrace.
The King had been impressed with Robin's brave actions in Messina and had remembered the case very well. Later Robin had become the hero of the Battle of Limassol when Richard's troops had captured Cyprus. After the late Head of the Guard had been killed in the battle of Limassol, Robin had been appointed the Captain of the King's Private Guard. By now, he headed the Guard for over four years, and the King had never regretted his appointment.
Robin achieved great glory on the battlefield. Robin's clever and extravagant war strategies saved the lives of King Richard and his comrades many times. Yet, he killed many people for the King and for the glory of God, but he no longer believed in the holy cause several years ago. Every night, he dreamed of coming back home to Locksley, to his beloved Marian. But every nightmare reminded him that he was still in the Holy Land, trapped in a Godless universe of indiscriminate bloodshed and death.
He started hating the Holy Land on the third year of the Crusade as all the thoughts about glory evaporated from his young idealistic mind – there was nothing holy in their cruel and pointless butchering of the Saracens. Robin hated the dark-skinned people, the King's enemies, and whom he killed out of duty to his sovereign. He barely tolerated the smells of blood and rotting bodies. He loathed the heat in the daytime and the cold in the dead of the night.
Robin dreamed of coming back to England. He left his home as a boy, many years ago, but he grew up and became a young man. He got accustomed to living in the desert, but he hated that; the views of yellow sandy dunes haunted him like a nightmare. He longed for dampness, humidity, forests, and rivers in England. He often imagined Sherwood Forest, a plenty of green trees, and green grass. He imagined Locksley Manor and quiet evenings near the pond in the company of his villagers.
Robin often remembered the face of his beloved Marian, her slow, enchanting smile, her shimmering blue eyes, her slender arms and her well-curved figure. All the memories of Marian gave him comfort and strength to wake up in the morning and fight with the Saracens; thoughts of Marian gave him hope that one day they would be able to go back to England, to Nottingham. The thought that he wanted to see Marian at least once more in his life gave him the strength to survive through bloody days of fighting under the blazing sun and through lonely nights under with shining stars.
Robin would have loved to dream only of Marian, but, unfortunately, he rarely saw Marian's face and the scenes from their past in dreams. But if his dreams were about Marian, they were not pleasant. Her lovely face was not happy and she didn't smile at him: instead, she screwed up her face in disgust as she reprimanded Robin for going to the war, for killing and for massacring his enemies, for leaving her and choosing glory over a chance to have a life with her in Locksley.
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The night was like many others. Robin was very tired, but sleep didn't claim him despite his physical exhaustion. He was deprived of peaceful sleep well as he was always haunted by recurring, terrible nightmares. He could hear loud cries and screams of pain and agony; he heard everything as clear as he could hear in his waking hours.
Every night, Robin dreamed of the war horrors: hissing clash of sword on sword, sword on shield; loud and desperate screams of pain and death; brutal slaughter on the battlefield; faces of Turkish children and women, screaming and begging for mercy; eyes of dying men, rolling, trembling and whinnying with fear; bodies, whole and with severed limbs and heads, rotting on the yellow sand; the obnoxious, lingering odor of blood, rottenness, sickness, and sweat; the burning sun above the desert, in the dark blue, unclouded sky; and bloodshed on a massive scale.
Robin stretched his legs across the soft sheets. He stiffened, the muscles of his entire body tightened. There was an all-pervading clash of metal upon metal somewhere in distance. The screams of wounded and dying men were muffled, but he heard them. Swords crossed, and people screamed again. Metallic sound was becoming louder and louder, as though someone had been fighting near his tent.
Robin stirred and took another deep breath. The blue eyes flung wide-open; his heart skipped a beat and then pounded harder. Robin awoke and stared at the ceiling of his tent. He strained his ears and heard the same murderous hiss of steel against steel as the soldiers fought outside.
He wasn't dreaming: despite the ceasefire with the Saracens, the Crusaders were attacked. Why the attack was so sudden and how it was undetected in advance, Robin didn't know, and that didn't matter at that moment. The King's life was in danger, and he had to protect his lord and sovereign. He swiftly jumped to his feet; he gripped his bow and a bundle of arrows, his sword on his waist. He hurried to the exit from the tent and ran into the inky darkness.
Outside, Robin stood rooted, turning his head and looking around, trying to assess the threat the Saracen raid could pose. He froze and looked around, his mind still spinning with the remnants of his dreams and yet trying to grasp how it was possible that half of the night guard was absent. He could see some of his fellow Crusaders being involved in the fierce fight with the intruders, but there were all the others was a mystery.
He shook his head, if he were trying to shake off the sense of unreality. He didn't have time for brooding and had to act. The only consolation was that he didn't see many intruders, at least at first glance, and they could be easily defeated, he told himself.
"Much! Much!" Robin cried out as loud as he could to awaken his squire. "Saracen raid! The King is under attack! Much!" His voice became a fevered shriek.
Robin was swiftly moving on the sand until he found a suitable place and crouched, preparing to shoot. He aimed at the chest of the Saracen and fired an arrow. One Saracen fell. He released another arrow, and one more enemy was dead. With deadly accuracy, two more arrows struck the assassins in their necks, and their bodies tumbled to the sand. Robin grinned, pleased with the results of his shooting.
All at once Captain Locksley felt a hand land on his left shoulder. He didn't turn around, thinking that Much had come to him to protect his back. Then violent pain shot in his left side as the cold edge of the curved blade cut his skin and deeply sliced his flesh through his ribs. The wound throbbed in acute, almost wild pain, and he screamed in agony. Robin gasped for air that seemed to be so heavy that he was barely able to inhale or exhale.
He felt lightheaded, and through the mist enveloping him, he saw the crimson, thick blood slipping out of his body. He was sure that the wound was most likely fatal and he would probably die today. He grimaced and tried to move, but his knees buckled, and he fell to the sand, helpless and motionless.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look around. His whole being was strained, thinking hard and listening to every sound while he counted the interminable seconds in time to the labored beating of his heart. It meant nothing that he was wounded if the King was attacked. The assassin got away from him, and he posed a threat to the King's life; he had to act quickly.
Robin found his bow and lifted it; a quiet groan erupted from his dry throat as he slowly moved his body. His jaw clenched, his teeth gritted in pain, but he still released an arrow, though it missed its aim and whizzed in inches from the assassin's face.
Stunned by an unexpected attack, the Saracen paused for a moment and ran his eyes across the camp. Robin could swear that their eyes locked for an instant, but then the assassin's tall dark figure moved towards the King's tent. He killed two guards and entered the King's tent.
Robin panicked. His heart started hammering harder to compensate for the massive blood loss; he was tormented by strong waves of dizziness drilling through his temples. He was suddenly angry with himself that he had allowed the Saracen to get away; he felt guilty because the assassin's escape placed King's life in grave danger. He had to protect the King, get help, and get rid of the assassin.
He heard Much's anguished cries as his squire rushed to him and knelt to inspect Robin's injury. They had no time for that now, and the King's safety was their first priority.
"Master! Master!" Much shouted.
"Go, get help, the King's tent," Robin muttered. He scrambled to his feet, pushing Much away and signaling him to leave and warn others about the attack.
Much didn't move. He paused at loss, unsure what to do. He wanted to help Robin because he saw blood on Robin's tunic and on the sand, but his Master wished him to leave.
"Go! Much, go!" Robin shouted. He sighed with relief as Much got on his wheels and started running in the camp with a loud cry of alarm.
He barely cast a glance at two dead bodies of the guards and entered the King's tent. The picture before his eyes made his blood run cold: the Saracen stood above the King's sleeping figure, with a raised sword in his arm, ready to strike a fatal blow.
Robin raced towards the King's bed. "Your Majesty!" he squealed.
At the sound of Robin's voice, the assassin turned his head and looked at the King's savior. But Robin didn't know that the assassin was only the masked Saracen, in reality, Sir Guy of Gisborne, the drop-dead gorgeous master-at-arms of Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham, the acting overlord of Locksley in Robin's absence, and a landless knight in its true sense. Robin also didn't know who the Black Knights were and why they wanted to kill his King.
In a second, Robin of Locksley was already near Guy of Gisborne. Robin swung his curved sword at Guy, trying to draw him away from the King. Hoping that he would have enough strength to fight with his enemy until others came to the tent, Robin lunged, ducked, and parried, attacking with expert wide and corner blows and slowly driving the opponent deeper into the tent.
It was ludicrous that Robin was fighting with the man who had become his sworn enemy, but who could have been his stepbrother if their parents had married if the fire hadn't consumed them at the Gisborne Manor. If Robin had known the truth, he would have been shocked to the core.
Streaks of sharp pain shot through his left side, stomach, and back as Robin moved, but he didn't care and fought, neglecting pain. He fought for King's life, which was more important than his own wound. His mind was clear and focused, and he knew that he had to seriously wound or kill the Saracen to save his King. Every blow sucked more and more strength out of him, but he kept fighting. He continued losing blood, though at a slower pace.
Robin was a blur of steel in a battle. His fighting style with a sword was graceful, unique, and difficult to imitate. Robin invented his own exclusive lunges, parries, blows, and their combinations, many of which were tricky to mislead his opponents. Even the best swordsmen in Christendom were astounded with Robin's specific fighting style, which he needed to fight against physically stronger and larger opponents.
His unique fighting style allowed him to kill several men with just one blow, like a circular blow and a magic swirl. Many of these lunges and parries were technically complicated and could be performed only by knights with great adroitness. Robin's ability to fight with several men greatly helped him to survive in bloody and fierce battles.
Of course, Robin regularly practiced and improved his fighting skills, but he got the greatest practice on the battlefield, in the brutal slaughter of the Saracens. Although he taught his men to shoot and fight, he never disclosed many of his secrets, like specific and rare types of blows, parries, and lunges, as well as their different combinations; he preferred to preserve the singularity of his style because it gave his advantage over his enemies. Many combinations of tricking blows were so unique that almost nobody could remember sequences of his blows, parries, and lunges.
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Guy of Gisborne blocked Robin's blows and parried. He was very astonished, silently cursing over and over again. Locksley didn't suffer from the disadvantages of his light complexion, and he was fighting as though he hadn't been injured, Guy thought.
As Robin continued shoving him off the King with every new assault, Gisborne began to believe that Locksley, even though he was bleeding and injured, wouldn't let him kill the King. Possibly, he would be unable even to escape if the King's men suddenly appeared in the tent or the King himself woke up. Guy was angry with himself because he had obviously underestimated Robin of Locksley.
After Guy had arrived in Nottingham with Sheriff Vaisey and had learned that Robin had gone to the Holy Land with King Richard, he had concluded that his enemy hadn't valued what he had been given by generous life if he had dared abandon his people to fight in the distant lands. Guy had started hating the younger man even more ferociously.
Gisborne knew about Robin's reputation in the Holy Land. On the third year of King Richard's Crusade, Vaisey had informed Guy that Robin had greatly distinguished himself on the battlefields of Outremer and had already been the Captain of King Richard's Private Guard for several years. Guy had also learned that Robin had been the royal favorite and the King's friend. After he had gotten that news, hatred for Robin had consumed his entire being, and he had feared that Robin would return and he would again lose everything to Robin, like he had lost in childhood.
Guy dreamt that Robin would die in the Holy Land, but the news Vaisey had shared with him had been opposite to Guy's dreams – Robin was alive and became the war hero. Then the Sheriff had offered Guy to travel to Acre and kill the King, hinting that he could also kill Robin to become the permanent Lord of Locksley. Guy had been enthusiastic about the opportunity to become the man who would kill the mighty King Richard the Lionheart, so he had traveled to Acre, full of hopes for power and wealth.
In Acre, Guy had done his best to organize the Saracen raid on the King's camp. Vaisey's Saracen allies had warned Guy about the potential danger from the brave Captain Locksley because Robin was able to thwart regicide attempt. Gisborne had seen Locksley in Acre before the attack. One of the treacherous Crusaders had shown Robin to him. Robin and several other King's guards had stood on the opposite side of the narrow street when Guy had watched them from his hiding place.
The Crusaders had laughed at something Robin had told them about, and Guy had been seething with anger, wishing only to run to Robin and punch him in his smug face. Robin's pose had been lazy and pompous; it had only made Guy hate Robin more, for he had always despised Robin's vain nature and arrogance. Guy could think only of the destroyed Gisborne Manor and the years of poverty in Normandy after Guy and Isabella had been banished from Locksley and Nottinghamshire. The plans of cruel revenge on Robin had formed in his mind. Locksley had to die at his blade sooner or later.
Guy had recognized the grown-up Earl of Huntingdon at first glance. It hadn't been difficult at all, although many years had passed since their last meeting on the day when their parents had died in the fire. Guy remembered Locksley as a child: Robin had been a skinny boy with hair of dark sand color and almond-shaped, blue eyes. Robin had grown up, changed, and matured, but his face hadn't lost boyish features, which became clear as soon as Robin's face had broken into a familiar cheeky grin.
As Robin had laughed together with his war comrades, Guy had noticed that the familiar devilish imps of mischief had danced in Locksley's pale blue eyes. The cheeky grins and mischievous smiles, which Robin flashed his friends and everyone so often, irritated Guy since their childhood. At the same time, Guy couldn't deny that the grown-up Robin became a handsome man, with a devilish, captivating charm, to Guy's utter displeasure. With bitterness filling his heart, Guy had concluded that nothing changed in Robin's personality: Robin was a true charmer since childhood.
Robin's good-looking, charming appearance undoubtedly attracted many women. Guy nicknamed Robin a swaggerer because of his charm, top-loftiness, and arrogant, impressive manners. He had easily understood why Marian could have been easily swept over by Robin's charms. Guy also was very handsome, brutally and darkly handsome, but he was cold, reserved, and detached. His gaze was often cold and hard, never mischievous and amicable, unlike Robin's. Guy definitely attracted the attention of many women, but he didn't have Robin's light charm and outspoken personality, which made it so easy for many people to like and adore Locksley, seeking his company and enjoying interactions with him.
Having seen Locksley in Acre, Gisborne had found only one positive aspect of their meeting: Robin didn't have a standard knightly complexion, and it would make it easier for Guy to kill his enemy. In contrast to his childhood nemesis, Guy was taller and physically stronger, with broad shoulders and muscular arms; he was slender, but he wasn't lean like Robin. His large, muscular frame and strong arms allowed him to make such powerful, deadly blows with a sword, and he was highly skilled with a sword. Gisborne was glad that Locksley looked a weaker opponent.
Gisborne wondered how Locksley could have earned the reputation of the brave Captain Locksley whom the Saracens feared so much. Talking to the spy of the Black Knights in the King's camp, Guy had snapped that Robin's glory on the battlefield had been highly exaggerated and that King Richard had probably promoted Locksley's reputation because Robin had been his favorite. Guy had said that Robin had a complexion of a courtier, not of a knight. However, Vaisey's spy had laughed at Guy at the top of his lungs and had warned him that Locksley would be the most dangerous rival in any fight.
Fighting with Robin of Locksley in the King's tent, Guy was laughing at himself that he hadn't believed the Crusader's words before. Robin deigned to display the full fruits of his genius with a bow and a sword during the attack. Guy was an expert swordsman and knew his own strengths, and he stood a fair chance of killing even an extremely skilled opponent. But with Robin, the situation was different because Robin's fighting style was too different from the one Guy was accustomed to. Now Guy even didn't dare compare his own various fighting talents with Robin's.
Before the raid, Guy had decided that he wouldn't try to find Locksley on purpose because he would have a little time to murder the King and flee. He wanted Robin to die, but it was no time and place for that. He had to kill the King. Locksley could wait, he thought. But he had kept it in mind, thinking that he would deal with Locksley if he quickly found him in the camp.
At the beginning of the attack, Gisborne managed to catch a glimpse of an archer with a familiar profile in a distance. He headed there and accidently stumbled into Robin, who was shooting arrows at Guy's accomplices, killing them one by one. Rage simmered in Guy's veins, and bloodlust blinded him. Guy decided to kill King Richard and Robin on the same night. Locksley was alone, only with his bow, he didn't see Guy, and it was Guy's real chance to get rid of his enemy.
Guy had slowly approached Robin from the back, and had put a hand on Robin's shoulder. Then he had plunged his sword into Robin's side, and Locksley had dropped dead. The injury had seemed to be fatal, and Guy had been sure that he had killed the man whom he hated so much. His heart pounding in delight, he had run to the King's tent; he had killed two guards and had entered.
But Gisborne had been mistaken. Providence had saved Locksley from an immediate death, and at the moment when Guy had been ready to strike a downward lethal blow at King Richard, he had heard a familiar loud voice calling for King Richard. Next moment, Robin of Locksley had appeared near the King's bed and had attacked Guy. And now Guy had to fight with his enemy again, all the more in the King's tent. Guy was shocked that Robin was still alive. It was an unexpected twist of fate.
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Locksley frightened Gisborne in a fight. Robin easily tricked and misled Guy regarding his next lunge or blow, and it infuriated him. He was shocked when Robin was fighting like a madman, as though he hadn't been injured. Never before had Guy dealt with such an adroit, resolute, and skilled swordsman, capable of fighting for his King even with a fatal wound. Guy realized why Locksley's sword fighting style was so dangerous, which was brought to his attention by Vaisey's Muslim allies.
Guy wondered how Robin's passionate desire to save King Richard might have been stronger than his own desire to kill the same man. Was loyalty to the King driving Robin so insane that he was able to fight, tolerating terrible pain? The most amazing thing was that Robin was fighting without self-preservation. Guy wondered whether Robin didn't care for himself, but only for his precious King.
In spite of being lighter and physically weaker than Gisborne, Locksley masterfully used his smaller size against his opponent; Robin was one of the most difficult opponents Guy had ever dealt with.
Robin had what Guy didn't possess – tremendous agility, extreme bravery, rare foolhardiness, and a unique sword fighting style. It might have seemed that Robin fought with scrappiness as his rival might have viewed his blows and lunges as unpredictable and unsystematic. However, an experienced warrior, like Guy, could realize that the perceived scrappiness was, in reality, the specific feature of Robin's fighting style. Guy suspected that Robin had adjusted the standard fighting skills, which he had gained as a knight, to himself to compensate him for his smaller size as compared to other knights.
Robin was a virtuoso of fighting with a curved Saracen sword. Guy wasn't as proficient with a Saracen scimitar as Locksley had become due to the constant fighting with the Turks. Now Guy almost wished that he could have his old broadsword to fight with Robin because he would have been able to fight better then. Unfortunately, he couldn't have used Christians' typical weapon if they wanted to make everyone believe that King Richard had been killed by the Saracens, not his own countrymen.
Gisborne lunged forward, trying to slice down hard at Locksley's head. Robin ducked and hesitated for a moment as a new wave of pain slashed through his body. Time was passing, but Guy still didn't corner Robin, seriously thinking to simply flee and save his own life. Guy used his chance and tried to pass to the back exit from the tent as they were almost in the corner.
Guy couldn't predict what would happen next. Gritting his teeth, Robin advanced forward and grabbed Guy's right arm. Robin swung his sword and made a deep cut on the enemy's forearm. Through the tatters of the torn sleeve, Robin caught a glimpse of a highly-stylized tattoo – a wolf's head tattoo.
Guy yelled in pain and backed away. Fueled by hatred and desire to repay for the cut on his forearm, the masked Saracen lunged at the King's favorite, wishing to punish his annoying opponent, end the fight, and escape from the King's tent and the Crusaders' camp. Robin looked weaker and weaker, and Guy intended to use that to his advantage. But Guy was destined to fail on that night.
Robin had a clever plan – to wound Guy in a close embrace by tricking him and catching him off-guard. He planned to use a parallel combination of deceptive movements and then one finishing strike. It guaranteed that he would disarm and defeat the assassin and save the King.
Robin parried a blow with less strength than before, staggered backwards and began falling, but he knew how to use that to his advantage. Suddenly, Robin grabbed Guy's sword arm, as if he were trying to disarm his rival or support himself. Guy had no understanding of Robin's tactic, thinking that perhaps Locksley didn't want to fall and instinctively used Guy to support himself. In an instant, Robin plunged the blade deeply into Guy's right side through the ribs.
Guy didn't anticipate Robin's trick. He bellowed in pain, his sword slipped from his arm – now he was disarmed. He felt Robin pushing the sword forward and then twisting the tip of the blade into Guy's flesh. Then Robin wrapped his arm around his rival's back and again pushed the blade forward, so that the scimitar penetrated Guy's body deeper. Violent pain shot through Guy who gave a howl of pain.
The deceptive blow that had defeated Guy was one of Robin's last-resort sword assaults, and Guy didn't fail to notice the quality of Robin's trick. The blade remained between the two men. They were locked in a lethal embrace, feeling the heat radiating from their bodies. Their eyes met shortly. Robin's light blue eyes looked into Guy's steel blue orbs. They shuddered in shock and trepidation.
Robin gasped at the sight of Guy's hateful and cold eyes. There were murderous hatred and morbid loathing in that gaze, which puzzled Robin. Robin was close to collapsing, but he still didn't lose all his vigilance he had trained during the years of his service in the Private Guard. The realization struck him that he had already seen those eyes somewhere before, a long time ago. The air around the Saracen was permeated with familiarity, even if his face was hidden, Robin thought.
Robin shook his head, confused. He couldn't have met the assassin before. Interestingly, the dark-skinned Saracens most often had brown or black eyes; blue eyes were a rare feature for the Saracens. But the Saracen had blue eyes, eyes of such a rare color for the Turks! Robin suddenly thought that he had already seen those eyes somewhere else. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
Gisborne still held Robin's gaze. He gasped for air as a new wave of pain slashed through his body. He drew a shallow breath, but he couldn't exhale and coughed. He was in horrific pain. Besides, the blade was still inside Guy's flesh; Guy bellowed in pain at the new feeling of the blade twisting in his side.
Guy was shocked with his proximity to Robin, the high and mighty the Earl of Huntingdon, whom he had hated for so long, and now he was finally staring into his enemy's blue eyes; curiously, Locksley's gaze wasn't haughty and mocking, but lost, unfocused, and perplexed. For many years, Guy's tortured mind invented the scenes of his first face-to-face meeting with the grown-up, arrogant, spoiled son of Malcolm of Locksley. But never had he imagined that he would have to face Robin in the King's tent, both of them badly wounded. Never had he thought that Locksley would again cause his demise.
The devil was laughing at Guy: he was doomed to be brought down by Locksley twice in his life. Robin became not only his sworn enemy but also his most frightful nightmare. What he wanted more than anything at that moment was to be gone from the King's tent and the cursed Arabian city as soon as possible, but he suspected that his injury would prevent him from escaping.
Knowing that he had stabbed and disarmed the disguised Saracen, that the King was safe, Robin found himself feeling an immense relief so shattering that he almost swooned with it. He didn't move, his forehead sweaty, his eyes closed, listening to the frantic drumming of his heart. Then his wound throbbed in pain again, and he groaned, clutching his left side with his left hand.
Robin removed the sword from the Saracen's body, causing his enemy to give a loud groan. Too weak to hold his scimitar, Robin let the weapon slip from his grip, and it fell to the ground. Guy and Robin were weaponless, and then they dropped to their knees. Robin of Locksley and Guy of Gisborne were exhausted and wounded. The fight was over, and Robin had won today.
I hope you liked this chapter. Robin was wounded by Guy before the fight in the King's tent. Later, Robin defeated Guy. What happens next?
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