The Successor
by Jennifer Campbell

None of the characters belong to me, unfortunately. I'm just
having a little fun and will return them, no worse for wear,
when I'm done. This story takes place early in Series 1. No
beta, so blame the typos on me.

This is the first chapter of probably four or five. So if you
enjoy this part, please check back in a few days for the next
installment. And I would love to hear your feedback.

#

Mist swept across the ground with a life of its own, despite
the total absence of wind. It obscured the lush undergrowth as
it spilled down a hill to Robin's feet, and a hush descended
over a forest usually teeming with the music of life. In all, it
was an eerie feeling, as though this tiny slice of the world had
slipped out of reality. Robin of Sherwood --formerly Robin of
Loxley -- knew well what the mystical occurrence heralded: Herne
was approaching.

At one time, not so long ago, visits from the forest god had
filled him with apprehension, and maybe even fear. But those
days were gone. Now, Robin merely planted his long bow firmly on
the forest floor and leaned against it casually as he waited.
Moments later, the familiar antlers came into view, atop the
hill. Herne raised his arms in benediction, barely visible amid
the swirling mist, and Robin bowed his head in greeting to his
master.

"A man is coming to the forest," Herne pronounced. "One
intended to follow in your steps."

The words threw Robin back a step. "A man? What man?"

"When you meet him, you will know," Herne replied. "He has
strayed too far from his destiny. You must help him to find his
path once more, or all that you have worked for will be lost."

"I don't understand," Robin called out. "Who is this man? What
do you mean he will follow in my footsteps?"

Herne lowered his arms and spoke quietly then, though his voice
easily carried to Robin. "It is enough. All will be made clear
in time. You must go now, my son, but do not forget. The future
rests in your hands."

A bright flash exploded atop the hill like a small star, and
Robin instinctively shielded his eyes. When the light vanished,
Herne was gone. The mists cleared quickly, and a soft breeze
rustled the leaves overhead. Nearby, a bird began to sing
cheerfully. Sherwood once again became the forest Robin had
learned to call home.

Yet he hardly noticed the resumption of life as he replayed
Herne's directive in his mind, as had become his habit. He
gripped his bow tighter in frustration. Riddles. More riddles.
For once, he wished Herne would forgo the obscurity and speak as
all men do. Yet, the horned one -- he wasn't a man. Not
entirely. He stood a step apart from the mortal world, and he
saw things. The future. A man to follow in Robin's footsteps.

A successor.

With a troubled heart and heavy feet, all too aware of what
Herne's words meant for his _own_ future, Robin headed back
toward
camp.

#

At the edge of Sherwood, two young men reined in their horses
and peered under the canopy of trees. The road curled around a
bend and vanished into the forbidding darkness. The fair-haired
boy, no older than seventeen, urged his mount forward a few
steps, right to the place where grass surrendered to forest. His
companion dropped back.

"Come on, Kyle," the fair-headed one teased. "Are you afraid of
a few trees and rabbits? Or perhaps you are the rabbit, to turn
back now."

"We shouldn't be doing this, Robert," Kyle replied nervously.
"We should be getting back to Huntingdon before the earl finds
out."

Robert's lip curled in a sneer. "My _father_ wouldn't notice
unless I went missing for several days, and that's not going to
happen." He paused. "Then again, maybe that's not such a bad
idea. At least then he'd pay me some attention."

"He'll certainly notice that his sword is missing." Kyle's eyes
strayed to the ornate hilt protruding from the scabbard at
Robert's hip. "Come on. We don't want to get in trouble."

"And what if we do? It's going to be my sword someday, anyway,
by right of succession. I ought to get used to it now, don't you
think?"

"Yeah, well, nothing will happen to _you_ if we're caught. They
can't touch you because you're the earl's son. But Lord Edgar is
sure to give me a whipping."

Edgar, Robert's uncle, trained all the young pages and squires
of the castle. He proved a harsh taskmaster, quick to punish
when his boys disobeyed but also generous with his praise when
it was warranted. Robert hoped to earn much of that praise on
this particular day, and no one, not even his best friend and
appointed companion, would deter him from his path.

"I'm going in."

"Robert, this is _insane_," Kyle pleaded. "What makes you think
we can even _find_ Robin Hood, let alone kill him? The Sheriff
has
been trying for months, and _he_ hasn't succeeded."

With a scornful glance at his friend, Robert pressed his horse
forward a few more steps, past the first line of trees. "Are you
coming or not?"

Without waiting for a response, he rode forward. Kyle muttered
some curses, but soon he was riding by Robert's side. They
followed the road around a bend and left the safety of
civilization behind. The sounds of the forest surrounded them --
birds singing, small animals rustling through the undergrowth,
wind whipping through the branches high above. A virtual
symphony of life, and somehow comforting to Robert. In a strange
way, it felt more like home than Huntingdon ever had.

"This is not a good idea," Kyle muttered.

"Oh, be quiet," Robert admonished.

"What do you want to find out here, anyway?"

Robert grinned. "Once we kill the wolfshead, our names will be
known across England. We'll be heroes. King Richard himself will
thank us."

"I never wanted to be a hero."

Robin urged his horse to a trot, with Kyle following
reluctantly behind. Eventually, by virtue of chance, they would
stumble across the outlaws, those unkempt barbarians of the
forest. They wouldn't stand a chance against the superior battle
training of an earl's son and a squire. And then, well ...

Then glory would be his.

#

Marion poked restlessly at the ground with a stick, punching
tiny holes in the dirt that caved in all too quickly. She
glanced up again at Robin, her sullen husband, barely visible
through the thick foliage. He had shrugged them all off after
returning to camp, refusing to speak about what Herne had
revealed to him. Not even to her. He sat outside camp and had
hardly moved for hours.

Most of the others had grown tired of waiting and had gone
hunting. Only John had remained with her. They had been here for
what seemed forever, keeping a silent vigil over their
mysterious leader.

She stabbed again at the dirt, harder this time.

If only he would open up to her. Share some of the weight
pressing down on his heart. She would happily accept the burden,
if only to spare him the pain of carrying it all alone.
Certainly, he shared many things with her: His hopes and dreams.
His passion. His love.

Still, sometimes his eyes turned remote, and cold. He folded in
on himself and no one could coax him from his shell. Not until
he wanted to come out. Right now, that was obviously the case.
Whatever Herne had told him, it had disturbed him greatly.

She looked up as Will crashed into camp. He stalked closer and
sat across from her, twirling a knife impatiently in his hand.
"Has he moved yet?"

"What do you think," she answered, more a statement than a
question. She looked up at him, not bothering to hide her
frustration.

"So, that's a 'no,' then."

She sighed. "He hasn't moved."

Will leaned forward intently. "What do we do if he stays up
there all day? Answer me that. Do we just sit here and wait?"

"He'll come down," John said as he sauntered over. He crouched
beside Marion and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He
has to come down eventually."

"I just wish he'd open up to us," Marion murmured.

"I know, lass," John soothed. "Give him time."

"Well, what if we don't have time?" Will insisted. "What if
we're supposed to be out there doing something, and he's not
telling us about it?"

"Will ..." John's voice dripped with warning.

"No, Will's right," Marion looked at both of them in turn.
"Robin can't stay up there all day. We have a right to know
what's going on." She rose to her feet and brushed the twigs
from her skirt. "I'll talk to him."

Before either man could respond, she turned and marched up the
hill, toward her husband. She sat beside him, gingerly. His dark
eyes flickered toward her, but still he refused to move. He sat,
still as stone, his chin resting on his folded hands.

"Robin?" she asked quietly. "Is everything all right?"

He hesitated, then said, "I'm fine, Marion."

"You're not acting fine. We're worried about you." When he
offered nothing more, she dared to press harder. "What did Herne
tell you? Please, if there's anything I can do to help ..."

"There's nothing to be done," he murmured. Then he shifted,
turning slowly to face her. "Herne said ..."

He stopped, tightened his lips and bowed his head. Almost
sadly, Marion thought. She set her hand on his shoulder and
squeezed lightly.

"I'm here for you, Robin."

He smiled softly. "I know. It's just -- I might not always be
here for you."

She drew back, as though burned. "What do you mean?" she asked
sharply.

"Herne said that one was coming who would follow in my
footsteps. I'm to help him find his path."

"But, that could mean many things," Marion offered. She tried
to sound supportive, but inside, her spirit wilted. How could
Herne even think of replacing Robin, so soon after calling him?

"It is my successor. He is coming."

"I don't believe it," she said, with more resolution than she
felt. "No one can replace you, Robin. No one. Not in this
forest, or in our hearts. You are our leader, and we wouldn't
accept anyone else."

At that, Robin's gaze slowly came to her face, and he ran his
fingertips tenderly along her cheek. His eyes burned with so
much love that she caught her breath. How could she ever believe
in anyone else like she believed in him?

"My beautiful wife," he whispered. "Thank you."

His eyes darted back toward camp, to the anxious men who waited
there, and he rose slowly to his feet with a groan. In the ash
tree above them, a startled bird took flight. Robin stretched
his arms lazily over his head, and Marion rose beside him.

"I need to take a walk," he said.

"I'll come with you," she quickly responded.

"No," he said, then softened the rejection by brushing his lips
against hers. "I need time to think. Alone. I'll be back before
dark."

"Be careful."

He nodded, and then, with one more kiss, quickly vanished into
the forest. He moved so silently that in moments, she heard
nothing of his passing. She sat down again, dejected, and rested
her chin on her knees.

"Well, what did he say?" John asked as he approached, Will
close behind him.

Marion opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut again.
What Robin had shared had been for her ears alone. The others,
they didn't need to hear about a possible successor. Not now,
just as they were coming together as a team. As a family.

"Are you going to tell us or not?" Will asked impatiently.

"He said ..." She hesitated. "He said he had some thinking to
do and he'll be back by dark."

Will threw his arms up. "Well, that's just great, ain't it.
We're stuck here all day while he sulks."

"Give him time, Will," Marion said quietly, an unintentional
echo of John's earlier words. Her eyes strayed back into the
forest, to where Robin had vanished. "Just give him time."

#

"Do you even know where we're going?" Kyle asked.

Robert looked sidelong at his nervous friend. The boy, only a
year his junior, made a wonderful companion for castle living.
They could sneak into the kitchens better than anyone else,
snitching bits of food between meals. And only Kyle could match
Robert's proficiency in weapons training. Yet out here, beyond
the gates of Huntingdon, Kyle was proving a poor choice of
comrade, indeed.

They had stopped for a short break, to water their horses at a
small stream. Robert had unbuckled his father's sword, and it
now lay on a flat rock at the water's edge. He stretched out
beside it, enjoying the sunny afternoon.

"If we keep going that way," Robert said, pointing down the
road, "we eventually come to Nottingham. Back the other way,
Huntingdon."

"But we're not going to Nottingham."

"No."

Kyle sighed. "How I wish I were back in Huntingdon right now.
You've met Margaret, haven't you? One of the serving girls? She
promised to meet me in the stables today. But instead I'm riding
around Sherwood with you."

Robert grinned. "Ah, now the truth comes out. She's the reason
you keep wanting to go back, isn't she?"

"I'll lose her to that oaf, Carlisle, after this." He sighed
again, in mock regret. "She's _very_ pretty, you know, with hair
that shimmers like the sun."

"You won't lose her," Robert said confidently. "Not when we
come riding home with the body of Robin Hood."

Now it was Kyle's turn to look sidelong at his companion. "Why
are you doing this, Robert?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why this sudden urge to play the hero?"

Robert shrugged. "I guess I'm just tired of doing what everyone
tells me to do. So for once, I'm going to do what _I_ want to."

Kyle snorted. "No one tells you what to do. You're the earl's
son."

"Are you kidding?" Robert asked in amazement. "Everyone is
_always_ directing my life. 'Read those books, study that scroll,
act like a nobleman. Rule over all those worthless peasants that
aren't worth the trouble. Better do a good job, because you're
stuck with it for the rest of your life.'" He groaned at his own
misfortune. "You have no idea how much I wish to be free of it."

"And you think this little adventure will help?"

"No. No, I don't." Robert shook his head sadly. "Nothing can
free me of my destiny."

They sat in silence then. Robert pushed all thoughts away,
letting the soothing gurgle of the stream dull his sudden
melancholy. The forest, he realized, had a rhythm to it. Every
movement of the trees, every sound, it all fit into a greater
pattern. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him,
knowing deep in his soul, he could stay here forever and be
happy.

Then, a twig snapped. Out of tune, out of order. Robert's eyes
snapped open.

"Did you hear that?" he asked softly.

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed. "Hear what?"

"I think someone is there."

Robert cocked his head, listening for another break in the
forest rhythm, but nothing came. Maybe it had only been his
imagination. He chided his own foolishness as he rose to his
feet, buckled on his belt and sword, and gathered the reins of
his horse in hand. Still, his uneasiness remained.

"Come on," he said. "It's time we were on our way."

Kyle nodded without words, his eyes darting about the forest in
the wake of Robert's warning. As they mounted and continued down
the road toward Nottingham, Robert glanced back over his
shoulder. Something had been there, watching them. Listening.
Biding its time under Sherwood's lush cover. He was sure of it.

#