Once again, want to thank all those that reviewed, I really enjoy reading all of your comments. I think we can all attest that Robin isn't always the brightest, especially when it concerns himself. That said, here is the next part, and I hope you all enjoy it.
Thanks to Kegel for the beta.
For those of you that asked about INE (It's Not Easy), that story will be updated either tonight, or tomorrow.
Chapter Three: The Sparring Match
He hadn't lasted the whole night. It was sometime in the early morning that Daniel had found Robin, half-awake, doing his best to stay on his feet. The other crusader had been kind, but had firmly insisted that Robin retire for the night. He didn't want to at first; if he had lasted this long, another few short hours could do him no harm. Daniel had convinced him otherwise, and Robin had taken his leave, too weary to even find relief.
It was strange; he could remember that well enough, but he couldn't recall the trek back to his tent. Or falling asleep. All he knew was that one moment he had been out keeping watch, the next, the bright rays of the sun warmly greeted him as they peered through openings in the tent. He was facedown on his bed, covered with a light blanket that had been tucked over and around his shoulders. His eyes searched about the tent, finding it empty save for a small plate of food.
He turned away, his stomach protesting at the sight. He was no hungrier this morning than he had been the night before. Cautiously he pushed himself up, the blanket sliding off of him as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The move made him feel lightheaded, and he stayed where he was, head hanging in his hands as he rubbed his temples. His head wasn't the only thing that was throbbing.
Carefully he raised one end of his shirt, risking a glance at his side. The area around the stitching had started to swell, his skin turning the faintest shades of red and yellow. The slightest brush against it was painful, his skin heated to the touch. It would need to be cleaned, he realized dully. The thought alone caused him to wince, and he let the cloth fall, rubbing his head once more.
It was then he heard it again, the sounds he had first thought to have heard when he had opened his eyes. He had listened, when lying on the bed, for it to repeat again, but all had been quiet, and he had dismissed it as another dream. But here they were again, the echo of metal clashing against metal. His heart skipped a beat, racing inside his chest as he reached for his sword. But something held him.
There were other sounds too, shouts and cries, but none of them from panic or worry. In fact…it sounded almost as if they were…spurring each other on. As though they were cheering….
Moving to his feet he pushed through the opening, his eyes adjusting for a moment before he could see the commotion. A smile crossed his face when he did, watching the two men spar. He had mildly wondered before on how long it would be until they started once again.
One of the greatest difficulties in war was keeping morale high during the lulls. When there was no battle, there were too many thoughts, too many regrets. A bit of activity, such as practicing with a bow, or even matching yourself in mock swordplay not only let loose pent up energy, but it helped to distract from the ills of war.
There had been drawn in the sand a plain circle, a makeshift border that even now was slowly being destroyed as the two men jostled about, wildly swinging their weapons. Around the circle itself, giving room for the two, were a number of men, some standing, others having made themselves more comfortable on the ground. Robin slipped in-between two of the standing men, watching with interest.
The pair was dead-even, straddling the center of the circle, dodging each other's blows. At the moment there was no clear winner, and no clear loser. Both men he recognized; a man by the name of Stern, and then Langley. Stern, like Robin, had been injured in the Saracen raid, a deep cut to his arm. Though not his strong arm, it still caused problems in carrying a shield, or even firing a bow. Right now, the only thing keeping him from losing was his size.
Robin knew that he was different. Most men of war were large, bulky in muscle and drove off of raw power and strength. Yet Robin was not, but where he lacked in size he excelled in speed. That was not only helpful in hand-to-hand combat, but he could loose an arrow faster than one could almost blink. Stern was small as well. Most of his work was with a bow, a fair reason why his injury had troubled him so. But Robin had to give the man credit; Langley was no easy opponent.
He was one of the largest men among King Richard's Private Guard. He was strong; very strong, but slow. Langley's movements were awkward, wide sweeping blows that Stern danced around easily. But Stern did not have the strength to drive Langley to the ground, or force the man from the circle. It was the only way a sparring match could be won.
"He's beat the last four men," the man near him spoke quietly. Robin turned his way, recognizing Mathew, another one of the King's Warriors.
"Langley, or Stern?" Robin wondered, though he could already guess.
"Langley," Mathew answered. "A bit brutish, but you have to consider yourself lucky he's on our side. Wouldn't want to fight a Turk like that."
No….he wouldn't. But Robin didn't voice that opinion. Strength alone did not make a warrior. You had to be cunning, daring…and perhaps a little mad. He smiled at the last thought, watching as Langley pushed Stern further back. The fight would not last much longer.
"How are you holding up?"
"Well enough."
"I had wondered," Mathew confessed quietly, turning so that his voice would be heard over the jeers from the others. "I heard that you are not departing with us at dawn tomorrow. I feared your hurt may be worse than what some of the others were saying."
So the others had been talking about him, and pray what where they saying? It was a gloomy thought, but Robin tried to not let it show. "The king wishes for me to stay behind and lead the others; I will rejoin you in due time."
"The quiet one, what's his name?" Mathew fell silent as he thought for a moment. "Rowan, that's him. An arrow got him in the leg. Even still can hardly walk. Imagine what that must be like."
He could imagine, well enough, and it was bothersome. Rowan, like it or not, would be traveling at the end of the week, whether or not he could walk. Even if Robin had to drag the man through the desert, they would stay here no longer.
"I know it will not be permanent, but it will be strange without you," Mathew continued, his eyes turning back to the fight. "Shame to say that I hope we run into no trouble until you're back with us."
"You'll do fine," Robin encouraged him. "All of you proved that well enough with the raid."
"It was you who saved the king, Robin. Or has the sun muddled your brains and made you forget?"
There was a bit of mirth in the man's voice, and Robin couldn't help but smile himself. There was a reason he loved the man; Mathew was at times all too much like himself. Nothing else was said between them, the cheer of the bystanders taking their attention elsewhere.
Stern had lost, kneeling outside the circle, breathing hard. He had put on a good show, but Langley, once again, had prevailed. And he was letting everyone know, strutting about in the uneven circle, sword held over his head as the blade gleamed in the sunlight. After a time the crowd grew quiet as Langley studied them, sword down now, waiting for someone new to try his luck.
There were many potential opponents, even now that after five men Langley was still there. Surely he was tiring, and a worn target was an easy one. But his success was not lost on the others, and there was no one who would step up to his challenge. Well…almost no one.
Without word, Robin stepped forward. There were a few murmurs among the crowd, none of which Robin could hear. He probably didn't want to hear them, considering they most likely were not encouraging in any nature. Bets were already being passed around, and Robin wondered dimly how many of them were being placed against him.
Langley managed a short huff, shaking his head as Robin drew his sword. "You can't be serious."
"You want to call it off already?" Robin wondered with amusement. Though his tired body would not protest to such a feat, Robin knew the man would never back off. It was the ultimate humiliation, the mark of a true coward, to step from a fight before it even had begun.
"You can't even fire a bow properly," Langley responded, "Can you even swing a sword?"
Robin moved, striking with his blade in one sudden motion for an answer. It caught Langley by surprise, the man hardly able to get his sword up in time. There were more murmurs across the group, and this time Robin knew where they came from. What he had just done was, without question, contumelious.
In any spar it was customary to agree to terms. This helped to avoided potential injury, and gave each opponent time to gather his senses before the fight commenced. With the first strike, Robin had propelled an angry match into motion. Langley was furious with the unannounced blow, and now was working to repay it with one of his own.
The first few blows were easily blocked, the next several dodged. It was awkward, at first, to fall into the rhythm, but Robin picked it up easily after that. Langley was coming at him hard, swinging his weapon in a large, deadly arch. Robin ducked, bringing up the butt of his sword, catching Langley in the side before spinning away. He could feel the air shift near him, his eye catching the glint of the blade in the sun as it came close to him.
The unnerving clash of metal sounded as their blades met, the force enough to throw Robin off balance momentarily. Langley swung again, ready to drive him back further, but missed completely as Robin dodged to his right, making a full turn around the advancing man. He kicked out, catching the man in the back and propelling him closer to the edge of the ring. Robin now had the advantage, and Langley knew it.
The next blow was fueled by wanted vengeance, the shock traveling down the blade and into his arms. Robin winced despite himself, pulling back rather than meeting it head on. The act gave Langley time to work his way back, and now they were once again even. They both had pulled away momentarily, hard heavy breaths filling the air as they paced cautiously, sword tips pointing towards the ground.
Around them the crowd waited anxiously, watching and wondering who would be first to start it up once again. Robin made no move, waiting instead for Langley to be the first to take the bait. And the man did, taking a full step to his left as a mock charge before turning right, and bringing the sword down. Robin pulled back, sidestepping the blow before moving in with an attack of his own. Again their swords locked, and again they pulled back, circling one another.
They must have been some kind of spectacle, for they had drawn a larger crowd. Robin did not risk chancing a glimpse, but he could hear them coming, could hear the voices relaying all that had happened. It was then that Langley moved again, striking not just once, but three times in quick succession. Robin was barely able to keep up with them, dodging the last to dive under Langley's outstretched arm, reaching up with his own sword at the same time.
There was a mild grunt from the other man, the slightest of pauses as Langley studied his arm where the crimson line was now starting to appear. A hush had fallen over the crowd as well as Robin waited, breathing heavily on the other side of the ring.
For blood to be drawn in a sparring match was not unheard of. Sparring in itself could be dangerous, if not deadly. But Robin had been the first to draw blood from Langley, and as a rule, between crusaders, they tried to avoid bloodshed altogether. It did not help in war if one was to wound and kill all of their own through mock play.
And so the wound, as superficial as it might have been, was yet one more reason that fueled this battle with rage. With a roar Langley charged, striking out with more force than he had been using before. The shock of the collision between the two blades dove deep into Robin's arms, causing them to go momentarily numb. Even as he side-stepped, Langley was moving, bringing up his knee in one, hard, fast motion.
It caught him in the stomach, dropping him to his knees. Robin could feel the air leave his lungs, his body screaming out at the same time as a streak of pain shot through his tender side and down his back. But he could not stop moving, Langley already advancing on him once again.
On hands and knees he propelled himself forward, moving to grab his fallen sword. He had to roll to avoid the blade that hacked its way into the sand, scrambling backwards on all fours as it came again and again. There were shouts now, from outside the ring, a mixture of voices calling for this madness to stop. If Langley heard he did not care, running forward with his sword out, ready to finish the mock fight for real.
Robin dug the top of his boot in the sand, kicking out with determined force. The sand hit Langley full on in the face, causing him to stumble quickly to a stop with a shout of pain. Robin used the opportunity to crawl to his feet, lashing out with sword and fist to drive the man back. The pummel of Robin's sword caught the man in the head, knocking him back a step.
Langley lashed out wildly with his sword, half-blinded by the grains of sand that were still clinging to his eyes. The blows were easy to avoid, and Robin kicked out again, propelling the man even further back. He was winning now; Robin could almost taste the victory as he meticulously worked Langley closer to the edge step-by-step.
Without warning, Langley dropped to one knee, bringing his sword across in one short motion. Unprepared for the sudden change Robin was caught off-guard. The blade caught him on the arm, dealing its own superficial wound to him. Even as Robin was trying to recover, Langley brought the sword again, digging the hilt into his side, just above his wound.
It stole the air from his lungs, dropping him to the sand, almost on top of Langley. The man had let go of his sword, choosing instead his fists as struck out. Hands dug into the fabric of Robin's armor, pushing him back flat on the sand. Robin kneed him harshly, kicking him off as he answered with a punch of his own. He was bringing his fist back for a second time when someone caught his arm, and in the span of a moment he was hauled off the other.
There was chaos about him now, Langley briefly obscured from his vision by the mass of people that were intervening. The spectators were now between them, propelling the two opponents apart with various shouts. At the forefront of the group that held Robin back was Mathew, and Robin could hear the man cursing in his ear. He hardly paid any heed, instead his gaze focused on Langley who was now a good few feet away.
There were more men holding Langley back, leaving only a few to restrain Robin who had calmed considerably, hardly resisting as he was pulled away. His attention was only drawn away from Langley as Mathew stepped in front of him, one hand still holding to his shirt firmly.
"You're a fool, Robin. What, pray tell, are you trying to do?"
"I almost had him," he argued back angrily. He was furious the others had intervened. Giving a few more minutes, and he would have bested Langley. Why had they stopped them?
"I saw the look in your eyes," Mathew hissed, pushing him back even further. "This was no small sparring match for you, was it?"
"I could have beaten him," Robin argued further.
"You could have killed him; or he you, whatever had come first. We are members of the King's Private Guard. We do not quarrel with one another!"
He wanted to protest, but kept quiet as he was led further away. Much was calling to him from somewhere in the chaos, pushing through the mass of bodies to reach him. There was stark panic on his face, fading away as he took Robin in. Near him Mathew let out a sigh, shaking his head as he turned away. Much was quick in taking the man's place.
"Where have you been?" Robin snapped testily, his gaze searching the crowd for any sign of Langley.
"With…the other squires," Much breathed heavily, watching him. "What have you been doing? You're bleeding…"
Robin reached up hastily to wipe his nose, wincing as he saw the blood. Langley had landed a fair blow, and Robin wondered mildly if he had managed the same in return. He would find out soon enough, he reasoned, and he was right. The spectators weren't the only ones who had seen the commotion. He could feel his stomach turn, his heart quicken as he saw the king watching from above.
Robin could see the king turn to the man near him, Daniel, and whisper something into his ear. The other crusader nodded, and started off, moving into the fray of the chaos. Robin wanted nothing more than to turn and leave, to be out of there. But he stayed where he was, Much by his side until the crusader had found him.
"Then king wishes to you see right away."
Robin only nodded, already knowing that what would follow would not be pleasant. He waited until Daniel had left, most likely to fetch Langley as well, before he moved. Much started to follow, but Robin stopped him with the shake of his head. Much had no part in this, and so he would not share the same burden.
"I'll meet you back at the tent," he muttered quietly, retrieving his sword that had been forgotten on the ground. Sliding it into its scabbard he set off, head down as he made the long climb.
It was easy to believe that he looked quite like Langley. Parts of the man's face were bruised, turning an odd hue of blue. His lip was split, his chin covered in dried blood. He, like Robin, knelt on one knee on the floor the king's tent, his head slightly bowed.
Robin turned away from him, eyes flicking up to where the king paced slowly in the tent. They had been here for several minutes, and the king had yet to say anything. Robin wasn't sure if he enjoyed the silence more than he would a lecture. Not to mention that kneeling like this was starting to take a toll on his body.
Now that he had been given time to calm down, the aches and pains of his doings were becoming all too clear. It was his entire torso that ached, no doubt from the repeated blows dealt by Langley. Each breath he drew was increasing the mild throb all the more, making him feel as though he was short of breath. His head was swimming too; whether that was from timely blows as well, or the excursion in the sun, he couldn't be sure.
In front of him the king let out a sigh as he sat, meeting his gaze briefly. Robin turned away, letting his gaze drop to the floor.
"Correct me if I am wrong," the king started patiently. "But are not the two of you grown men? Are you not both crusaders, warriors of my private guard? Am I wrong in assuming this?"
"No, your majesty," Robin replied quietly when Langley failed to answer. "You are correct."
"Do you think your behavior is in agreement with this honor?"
Once again, it was Robin that answered. Perhaps Langley was too proud to say otherwise, or perhaps he was wise enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. It was a lesson Robin was still trying to learn.
"I could dispatch the pair of you for insubordination," the king continued after a moment. Robin, along with Langley looked up sharply, both of them silent despite the obvious shock. "But I won't. I value both of you far too much."
There was a relieved sigh that was shared between them, but Robin couldn't help but feel a little miffed. Most of this was Langley's doing, and he felt as though he did not merit the same punishment as the other. But this was neither the time, nor was it his place, to point this out to the King of England.
"That does not mean, however, that I have forgotten this incident," the man continued, his voice sharper than ever. Robin had seen the king angry before, but this was the first time that the anger had been directed at him.
"I have convinced myself that this is what it was. Prove me wrong, and I will dismiss the both of you without question. England needs warriors who will fight the enemy, not each other, and personal disputes are one thing I will not allow within my guard. Do I make myself clear?"
Robin muttered a confirmation in time with Langley. It was humiliating, never having been truly lectured before, and it had to be happening in front of none other than a man he was at odds with. Despite the fact that Langley was receiving the same belittlement, Robin was certain that he would somehow use it to his advantage. What made it worse was the knowledge that he would not be able to retaliate. If the king got even the faintest whisper of trouble brewed between them, they would both suffer the demeaning consequences. Robin could think of no worse fate than to be dismissed due to insubordination.
"I will trust that the both of you can work out whatever disagreement is between you as knowledgeable men, as opposed to bloodthirsty warriors. Do not forsake my generosity in this decision. You may go."
Robin bowed in much the same manner as Langley, moving to get to his feet. He had hardly moved though when the king shook his head. "Robin, stay. I wish to speak to you in private."
Robin nodded mutely, doing his best to ignore the smirk Langley dared to shoot him before he had left. Once alone, he could feel his stomach tighten with worry, a collection of thoughts racing through his head. Normally he took no worry when the king spoke with him, as the man often did, but Robin knew that he was still angry. He was in no mood for another lecture, but Robin could hardly say so.
"Out of all people, Robin, I figured you would have known better."
So it was to be another lecture. He ground his teeth to keep from answering anything foolish.
"Tell me, what exactly were you hoping to accomplish?"
"Men spar all the time. That is nothing out of the ordinary," Robin answered bleakly.
"Spar, yes. What I saw was no sparring. What happened?"
"He challenged me. I had to prove myself."
"For the love of God, Robin!" the king's voice was sharp, causing Robin to wince inwardly. "You are an expert marksman, not to mention deadly with a sword. There is nothing you have to prove, to anyone."
How he wished that was only true. Langley had not challenged him openly, no, but it was something Robin had seen in the man's eyes well enough. Nothing had changed, he knew. Langley would still goad him, even more so since the match had not been finished. That had been beyond Robin's control, but he knew that the other man would still try and pin it on him.
"The Saracen attack came without warning; I know that frustrates you. I also know that you blame yourself, for whatever reason I cannot fathom. Whatever the case, I am quite sure that you can find something more constructive to do with your free time than attempting to slice up our own men into ribbons!"
There were times he hated being close to the king, and one of those times was now. Robin felt as though he were an open book that the man was flipping through. Nothing was said between the pair for a moment, but then the king let out a sigh.
"You are a fine warrior, Robin. One of the best I've ever seen. And you are a good man. But you need to use the common sense that God gave you."
"I will try, your majesty," he answered quietly. He wasn't quite sure on how to take the last comment, if it had been said with admiration or subtle derision. Either of them would have been possible, for the king's voice really hadn't changed.
"Robin…" there was another sigh, as though the man was irritated. "Stand up."
He did as he was bade, grateful for the change in posture, meeting the king's gaze when he was requested. The man had a quizzical expression on his face, as though he was considering something. Finally he shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"
Robin did not have an answer, but he suspected the question was rhetorical. He stood there, hands dangling at his sides as he resisted the urge to wipe free the sweat that still lingered on his brow. The same, strange lightheadedness had returned, and he blinked quickly to try and chase it away. The heat was starting to play tricks with his mind.
"Have you slept?"
The question was unexpected, and it took Robin a moment before he answered. "Yes."
The king nodded thoughtfully, another breath of silence before he spoke again, his words slower this time. "Are you lying to me?"
"I have slept," Robin responded obdurately.
"But not enough."
Robin let out a sigh, turning his gaze away. It did not detour the king, however, the man continuing as though nothing had even happened.
"I leave at dawn, tomorrow. I must know that I can trust you to lead the others when it is time. Can I trust you?"
Robin let out a single nod, remaining silent. He was still not happy with the decision, but he could not change it.
"It is not a punishment, Robin. Despite what you may think. In time I hope you come to realize that. For now, take leave, get some rest."
Robin did not need a second invitation. He left with a bow, frowning as he came to a stop outside of the tent. Much watched him with concern, hurrying to his side as Robin resumed his pace once more.
"I thought I told you to meet me back at the tent."
"This is a tent," Much stressed quietly. "You never said exactly what tent to meet you at. What happened?"
"Nothing. And you know what I meant," Robin chastised him.
"What do you mean nothing? You were in there for a long time for nothing to have happened."
"The king wanted a spot of tea," Robin muttered sarcastically, ducking into the comfort of his own tent. Despite how he felt currently, it was a relief to be back here.
"Really?"
"No," he huffed, taking off his sword belt. Much had seen part of what had happened. He couldn't possibly be that dense as to have no clue as to what had taken place. Yet the man still stood there, waiting expectantly. Robin rolled his eyes.
"Do not worry about it. It is of my own concern."
He moved to take his shirt off, wincing as he did so. His skin was slick with sweat, and Robin glanced down at his side. Much was watching as well, the man wincing as he saw it for himself.
"That looks bad. Does it hurt?"
"Reasonably," he responded. His fingers touched the edges around it, wiping away a bit of blood that had come from a broken stitch. It was no surprise; Langley had landed a good blow.
"We should clean it."
The prospect didn't sound promising, but even Robin could not deny that it was not doing as well as it should. He nodded dimly, easing himself down on the bed. A sudden wave of weariness washed over him just then, and he fought off a yawn, running a hand along his worn face. It was still in the early evening, but Robin doubted the extra sleep would do him any harm.
"Shall I get the physician?"
"Do not bother him. I will go in the morning."
"Master…surely…" Much was shaking his head, but Robin cut him off.
"The king departs at first light; I wish to be awake by then, so that I may see him off. I promise, once he has, I will. For now, let me rest. Wake me in the morning."
Much opened his mouth to say something, but closed it only moments after, realizing that the discussion was at an end. Robin knew that it would be easier to have it cleaned tonight, but his side was still tender from the earlier brawl, and he didn't much like the thought of having it handled none too carefully so soon after. The pain would subside through the night, and after he was able to get some proper rest, he would be able to withstand the discomfort better.
Despite the heat, he reached for the blanket that he had discarded that morning. He felt strangely cold, even though sweat still beaded on his brow, and he took care to wrap himself up securely. His side still throbbed, but in even times with his breath, and it wasn't long before he faded into a restless sleep.
TBC