Portsmouth

Allan-a-Dale did not notice it at first, and he cursed his blindness that he could not see what was so obvious in hindsight. True, the headlong rush to Portsmouth had left little time for observation, but still, now that he knew, it all seemed plain as day.

He should have noticed that the others gave Will and Djaq a wide berth, leaving them to their own devices most of the time. He should have noticed that Will was always just a little closer to her than he needed to be, but most of all, he should have noticed the way Djaq smiled at Will, an impossibly girlish expression he was certain he had never seen on her face before.

Of course, they had barely spoken to him, although Will had given him a friendly nod of the head in Nettlestone, and Djaq had patted his shoulder affectionately and thanked him for being a good man. Finally, he had been forced to ask Much what had happened, and Much had merely rolled his eyes and muttered something about confessions of love being better when they were kept secret.

That had been enough for Allan to put two and two together. Now that he knew, he was not sure how to feel about it. He was happy for them, certainly, and also desperately curious about how the painfully shy Will had ever made his feelings known. But he could not help the tightness he felt in his chest when he saw the two of them together, an odd sensation that was somewhere between dull ache and searing pain.

He knew he had feelings for Djaq, a lingering affection that had stayed with him even when she herself had not. A man other than Allan-a-Dale might have called it love, but not him. To Allan, love was just a word, a vague concept like gratitude or loyalty, things that only mattered to those who had been raised with coin in their pockets and food in their bellies instead of by a father who drank too much and a mother who gave up too soon. No, he could not say he loved Djaq, but that did not make things any easier for Allan.

Still, they were his two best friends, and he had no reason to assume things would be any different between the three of them. He knew he could rely on the fact that there would always be a space for him with Will and Djaq, and the thought became a buffer against envy and resentment, a balm that soothed the ache in his heart. Everything would soon be just as it had been before.

--

She watched him standing at the edge of the dock, only a smudge against the darkening sky. But Will was so tall and his stance so unmistakable that she could never take him for anyone else. And I would know him anywhere, she thought, and she could not keep the smile off her face. She had been relieved beyond measure, that day in Nettlestone, to discover that the cold light of day had not given lie to her confessions of the night before. Still, she and Will had barely had a chance to even speak in all the chaos of their journey to Portsmouth, and she was glad to find him alone, even if only for a moment.

He heard her coming, and gave her a smile of his own. She could see that it was different from the way he smiled at the others, and the knowledge made Djaq's heart beat just a little faster.

"Will. What are you doing here, all by yourself?"

He pointed at the waves breaking near the edge of the dock. "I've never seen the sea before."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I've never really been away from Nottinghamshire before." He ducked his head, apparently embarrassed by his lack of worldliness, but she just laughed in response.

"In that case, Will Scarlett, you are about to embark on a grand adventure indeed."

He laughed. "It's just another way that . . . I mean, I never imagined my life would turn out like this."

"Like this?"

"You know…with Robin, and going to the Holy Land…and," he hesitated. "And…and you."

Djaq blushed, feeling a sudden shyness she was sure even Saffiyah had never felt. Will put his hand on her shoulder, and though it was a gesture that had passed between them a hundred times before, everything was different now. His touch was gentle, his calloused fingers uncertain as they stroked the back of her neck. But it was enough to make her blood run faster, enough to make something pool in her stomach, delicious and molten, and so shocking in its intensity that it made her flinch.

He dropped his hand, and looked at her in alarm, obviously worried that he had stepped over some invisible line of propriety. She shook her head and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"I…it's…I like it when you do that." There. It was simple and it was the truth. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them, because Will looked as if he was about to die of embarrassment.

He looked away, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see red beginning to stain his cheeks. She cursed under her breath, wondering why everything between them had to be so awkward and uncertain. But then he turned back to face her, and brought his hand to her cheek.

"I'm glad, then." He said the words simply, and then, maybe because he did not know what else to say, he bent his head and kissed her, driving all thoughts of awkwardness and uncertainty from Djaq's mind.

--

From the shadows, Allan watched the two young lovers embrace, and the ache in his chest returned with great force. With just one small gesture, and without a word to him, Djaq and Will had erased any chance of Allan's perfect reunion with them, any chance that things could just be as they had been before. They had forged something new for themselves out of the space he had left behind, shutting him out as surely as if he had never existed. He felt the tides of envy and resentment lap at his heart, and slowly but surely, the murky waters invaded the space and filled the gaping hole left by his two closest friends. Nothing would ever be the same again.

--

"Fancy a pint, mate?"

Will turned on his heel, surprised to hear Allan address him in so familiar a way, especially as they had barely spoken since Allan had arrived at the barn in Nettlestone to deliver Will and the others from near-certain death.

"I don't think . . . Robin would . . ."

"Never mind about Robin. Just you and me. Like old times. C'mon, Will!"

There was something about the way the way he said the words, something about "like old times" that gave Will a sudden and sharp pain somewhere in his chest. It will never be like old times, Allan.

Still, though Will could not easily forgive Allan his trespasses, he could not easily ignore that Allan has saved them all either, and indeed, that he had saved Will more than once. More than that, he knew that Djaq saw some good in Allan, and for her sake, he hoped to see it too.

"Fine. Just one pint. Where?"

"Oh, I dunno. Portsmouth's bound to have an inn or two, innit?"

Will could not help but chuckle in response. He suspected that Allan already knew where the inns in Portsmouth were, and that he would promptly take him to the shadiest and least appealing one of them all.

They walked a bit in relatively companionable silence, before Allan broke it with a sudden burst of laughter. "I'm not being funny, but you don't need the hood here, Will!"

Will was naturally cautious, and his first instinct had been to draw the hood of his cloak down low over his face. Robin was wary of his men being seen in public, and Will had no intention of being arrested.

"Nobody knows who we are here. Too far from Nottingham, mate."

Will whipped off his hood and nodded, slightly embarrassed and feeling out of his element. He needed to relax. It had been days since he'd had anything like a free moment, a chance to reflect on everything that had happened in the mad rush from Nettlestone to Portsmouth. And then there was the thing that had happened in Nettlestone. And Djaq. He found himself smiling unaccountably at just the thought of her, and suddenly wished she was going to the inn with him instead of Allan.

He was jolted out of his reverie when Allan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "And here we are. The Three Kings!"

The Three Kings did not quite live up to its lofty name. It was old and grubby, and neither the thatch on the roof nor the rushes on the floor had been replaced in what seemed like months. Allan did not seem to mind all that though, as he called someone over, and two pints of ale were deposited on the table, liquid sloshing messily over the sides.

"How much? That's daylight robbery! And I know a thing or two about daylight robbery!" The woman who had brought the ale shrugged and waited for Allan to pay her, holding out a grubby hand for the coin. Allan paid reluctantly, and then turned his attention back to Will.

"Drink up, mate. Who knows how long it'll be before you see England and its fine ale again?"

That thought was sufficiently alarming to make Will take a swig, and he soon discovered that the ale was even dodgier than the alehouse. Allan didn't seem to mind that either, though, downing his entire pint in one shot and calling for another.

Allan was just a little drunk, and this made Will even more cautious than usual. He regarded Allan out of the corner of his eye, wondering how he could extricate himself from this situation without simply leaving the other man behind.

He caught Allan fixing him with a surprisingly steady gaze, and something about Allan's expression made the hair on Will's neck stand up.

"So. . ." Allan began, his speech still unslurred by all the ale. "You and Djaq."

Will stiffened; the tankard of ale stopped halfway to his mouth. So they had finally come to it. He was aware that Allan cared for Djaq, but he'd always ignored that, the way you ignored the stench of dead animals in the forest once you got used to it. He sighed and shrugged in response, not really wanting to discuss Djaq with Allan.

"You should've told me, mate." Allan's tone was as matter-of-fact as ever, but Will thought he detected something else in it, an accusation. Not "you should have told me" but "you should have asked me".

Will felt a sudden rush of anger. "I would have told you, if you'd stayed. But you left, you betrayed us. You made your bed."

Allan raised an eyebrow at him, and then he laughed, but it was an odd and mirthless sort of sound, and it made Will shiver. "You missed your real calling, Will. Should've been a priest, you. You're so righteous and good. Always doing the right thing, yeah?" He spat the words out, his tone all the more remarkable for the sudden and complete absence of any of his usual forced cheer.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know what it means." Allan slammed his tankard down on the table, making Will flinch at the sudden motion. "It means you always come out smelling like roses, when I come out smelling like the castle privy."

Will narrowed his eyes and clenched a fist under the table, trying to control his anger and his tongue. There was a voice in his head that sounded surprisingly like Djaq telling him to end this, to leave the place before there was trouble. But there was also another voice, a morbidly curious one that was telling him to press on, to see where he and Allan would take this.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Allan cut him off, his voice now eerily quiet and surprisingly menacing. "You're an outlaw, a thief. What makes you think you're so much better than everyone else? So much better than me?"

"Allan . . ." Will kept his voice low and even, hoping the other man would hear the warning in his tone and stop his ranting.

But Allan took no heed of Will's voice. "You scarpered off to Scarborough willingly enough, and when we came back, nobody said a word to you, but they all looked at me cross-eyed, didn't they? You ran off to kill the Sheriff because you were in a snit, and everyone just felt sorry for you. I ran off, and I come back to everyone calling me a traitor." Allan paused, taking a long swig. "I get all the crap, and you get all the glory."

Will smirked as one of the dark whispers formed itself into a thought. He would regret it later, but the words were out of his mouth before he could really think better of them. "That's right, Allan. And now I get the girl too."

Allan looked stricken, but only for a moment, and he quickly schooled his expression back to normal. He gave Will another mirthless chuckle. "Oh the gettin's the easy bit, mate. Keepin' a girl is a lot harder!"

Will began to speak, but his words were drowned out by Allan's.

"What do you even know about Djaq, Will? Do you know what she was before she was with us? She's like . . ." Allan seemed to be searching for the words, and as he waited for Allan to finish, Will could hear alarm bells going off on in his head. "She's some kind of noble . . . and she knows things we've never even heard of . . . she can read and write in, like, five languages." Allan stood now and leaned over Will, as if taunting him. "And you, you're so simple, you can't even see that you don't belong with her . . . you're just a simple peasant with an axe who can barely write his own name."

Will allowed his indignation to mix with his anger, and the two emotions left an acrid taste in his mouth. "And you belong with her? What are you, Allan, some sort of scholar?"

"Oh, me? Don't need learnin', mate. I got this." He patted a small bag of coins hanging from his belt.

Will stood up, towering over Allan. "You can't buy someone like Djaq . . . she's . . ."

"Oh, you can buy everyone, Will. Everyone has a price. Even your precious little Dj . . ."

He never managed to finish the thought, because, just then, Will's left fist made violent contact with Allan's face.