Right, here is chapter 4. It doesn't happen much in it to be honest, but I like it. The last part is very sad.../sob/

Thanx for the comments!

Marian66: lol, omg... well you won't have any reason to kill me, don't worry. The next couple of chapters might hurt a bit though... /runs and hides behind a sofa/
loredana: ty :-) I like writing Gisbourne a lot... He's cruel but with... eh depth.
DeanParker: Well the plot will thicken in the next chapter... You'll see.

Chapter 4: The Last Supper

"We need to get into town" Allan said, as he and Will saw the grey walls of Nottingham appear between the tree trunks "It shouldn't be too hard really- the gates should be open…"

"We just need to make sure the guards don't notice us" Will added. "It's getting trickier every time"

The growing fame had started to become a problem for the outlaws- they were often recognized by guards they had encountered before or even from descriptions or rumours. When cloaks become an attribute then cloaks also fails to be good disguise, and even though people in general wore cloaks they didn't curl up under them as if they were afraid to turn into dust in the sun. Will and Allan stopped by the south entrance and watched the scene before them; the two guards would recognize them without doubt, it was unlucky but inescapable. Allan knew these two men well enough to greet them if he met them in the street- well he wouldn't do that, obviously, but he could have.

"That one guard is called Peter, the other one is S… S something…" Will said shaking his head "We can't sneak past them. Shall we check the other entrances?"

"But this is the best one" Allan whined. He didn't even want to go into town and now his shoes were soaked in suspiciously thick yellow water. They stood down by the vagrants and general outcast-trash that weren't allowed within the city walls and thus camped by the bridges- unpleasant smelling people that were too low to be helped. These people were lost, there was no kindness left in the harsh lives they lived. Allan knew, he had spent time with this kind of trash- and to be honest most of them weren't very good people. Desperation made them turn to alcohol- a man could easily get killed in a fight over the last ale in the bottle here- the men beat up their women and the women beat up their kids. Allan would like to believe that they were born better, that they could change and be saved. But who would save them? Who would dedicate their life to make an old boozer see sense and repent his sins? Who would cover up the grey hair on an aging prostitute and make her a decent woman?

When Allan looked around he was suddenly struck by the realisation that this wasn't the kind of vagrant trash that he knew. In the yellow stinking mud sat widows with small children that had little chance of growing old in this world- elderly couples crouched under a shared blanket to comfort each other in this their autumn years. The winter would kill the small children and the elderly, Allan realised with a sudden chill running through his body. They would never be able to save them all, not all the stolen bread in the world was enough. In fact, with a few drunken exceptions, the stronger outcasts weren't here at all- they would be by the other gates. In the world of vagrants and beggars the south gate was as low as you could get. It was situated by the dyer's quarters, and the whole area reeked of urine from the bleaching process. This was also why it was the best gate; there would never be more guards there than necessary- no one in the right mind lingered by the south gate.

"Clever that shiffi ey?" an old woman suddenly turned her wrinkly weatherworn face to Will "Lissen lad you look like a sweet boy, you don't belong 'ere, so you must be one of those thugs the shiffi is after. We hear a lot down 'ere us old crones, 'n it's like this you see…" she paused to cough, making the small birdlike body convulse in spasms. Forget the winter, Allan thought, the autumn will kill off the elderly. "The shiffi takes the guards that know ye…" the old lady continued "…'n he put 'em up by the gates. That way you can't sneaky peaky round walking in 'n out of Nottinam no more"

The woman blinked at Will after revealing this secret to the two young men, seemingly quite pleased with herself. They would have to get her something to thank her, some bread perhaps. Give her too much and she would end up being killed by greedier and stronger outcasts.

"Oh sod it!" Allan exclaimed "Let's go home instead, we can do this another day, well prepared mind you. This is madness"

"We can't wait we have orders! And…" Will suddenly stopped in the middle of the sentence, his attention caught by something on the bridge "Allan look! This might be our lucky day"

Allan followed his gaze and felt his heart jump as he realised what he was looking at, or rather what was looking at them. On the edge to this pit of human misery stood Katie Butcher and studied the face of the man that used to be her lover. Allan thought that he would have liked their first real meeting after so many years to be less degrading- less drenched in mud and privy waste- but then again it might suit him well. Young Allan had always been the kind of man that people threw out with the trash when the ale houses closed.

---

There he was, Katie Butcher thought, Allan-a-Dale. He looked good, even standing ankle deep in urine, the years complemented him. No one would say that about her, she knew as much, but ugly women couldn't afford to be self-conscious. There was only one thing in this world that Katie could do, and that was to disappear, to watch from a distance, to be a shadow. This was the way to be safe- to always remain harmless. She had too many secrets in her chest- carried too many terrors that could never be let out. Some would call her scarred but what human isn't scarred. Katie lived the only way she knew, moment by moment, and now she needed to help these people to get into the town. She didn't really know why, it was just something she felt she had to do.

It would be tricky- she did not have her sister's charms so that was out of the question. Just a distraction, a little theatre act, it was something that she mastered from years of fraud and deception after all. She scanned the vagrants for a suitable figure, someone that looked unsavoury, not too weak and preferably far from Allan and that other boy. What did the rumours call that friend by Allan's side? Will Scarlet - that must be him. He looked like the kind of boy who should be kept far from Vix.

Now Katie found a suitable man for her scheme, not one of the elderly but rather the kind of vagrant that she knew- a hopeless boozer with red spongy skin and eyes constantly out of focus. She fixed Allan's eyes nodding to him- he looked confused but seemed ready enough. Then Katie Butcher screamed.

"Guaaaaaaaards!!!!! Guards that is him!!!!" she pointed a thin accusing finger at the boozer who looked up with drunken eyes. He looked strong- he would give the guards a fight, and that served her intentions well "Guards! Hurry before he gets away! That man… he robbed me! He touched me in ways that I would not let my husband even! That man followed me to my work in the castle, he must hang! Guaaaaaaaaards!!!!!!"

And the guards came, both of them, running to take care of this pressing problem. If this woman worked in the castle, a married woman none the less, then this was a grave matter indeed, it could not be overlooked. The gate was unguarded as the soldiers occupied themselves with a surprised old boozer- the man was beaten, pushed into the yellow mud and arrested for crimes he would have been to drunk to commit. Allan had to grab Will's arm and drag him into Nottingham since the boy couldn't believe what he just witnessed.

"The man…" Will said as they were safe in the dyer's quarters "Allan that man, this Katie girl sacrificed an innocent man to get us in! We should have helped him!"

"What, get him convicted for associating with outlaws as well? Will, this worked, it was harsh I know, but then again you understand now"

"Understand what?"

"Why you never… ever… trust a Butcher sister" Allan said to his younger friend fixating his eyes in a steady stare "And that applies to all Butcher sisters, alright?"

"Alright" Will answered, still feeling rather uneasy "What do we do now?"

"We wait for Katie"

"Can't we just find Vix instead…"

Allan silenced Will with a look and then they stood and watched the street for any sign of the small read headed woman. Allan felt rather embarrassed by his own emotions. What Katie had done, that horrible theatre outside the gates, had only spurred his fascination. It was clever and brave, she had chosen the perfect victim, and she had acted. He always found her most interesting when she put her passivity aside, and now he was shocked to realise that she till enchanted him- that he still craved her. He should be feeling the same uneasiness that Will was trapped in, but instead Allan-a-Dale waited for Katie Butcher full of shameful expectation.

She sneaked up on them from behind- Allan should have known that she would. Katie knew every road she had ever walked; she could have told you the amount of windows you passed from point A to point B and the exact number of ways you could move between the two locations. This was a tactic she used to survive- Katie Butcher would never find herself trapped anywhere.

"Hello" she said simply "What do you want?"

Allan looked down at her, wondered what it was that made everyone think she was so plain. Did they not see how big her eyes were, how sharp that look under the flaming red curls? Still, she was the same old Katie once again- stood before him and asked them to take the initiative. Passive and faint, someone offering her services but completely lacking all interest in them.

"Take us to Vix?" Will asked her at Allan's odd silence "I'm Will by the way"

She gave him a brief look, a shadow of a smile and then added a short "I know. Come then"

As they followed her through Nottingham Will felt anxious, afraid that she worked for the sheriff and would trap them as rats. It was reasonable doubts, would indeed be less reasonable not do doubt her, yet they followed.

"How did she know who I am?" Will whispered to Allan.

"She knows stuff"

"Why do we follow her, we'll get trapped for sure"

"We have our orders mate- I'm just doing as Lord Hood of Sherwood told us"

"But…"

"What is this- the bloody inquisition!?" Allan snapped "We'll just have to be careful"

They heard Vix's voice as they closed up to the stables- saw her between the wooden beams that held up the stable building's roof- her colourful figure joined by a tall dark man clothed in leather. It would be easy for Katie to call out if she wanted them to be found, but she didn't. She simply crouched down by Allan's side. He could feel her small, almost feeble body by his, knew that she would still give it to him if he asked. But it would not be what he wanted, that passive pale woman simply shrugging her shoulders at him, he would want her to meet him and she wouldn't do that now. She would never do that again.

"Tell me Guy, what is sheriff Vaysey's first name?" Vix said, her loud voice clear enough to hear every nuance from where they hid.

She stood by Gisbourne's side looking light, amused, pleasing- and she touched Sir Guy in the most subtle of ways, making it look almost accidental.

"I wouldn't know" Sir Guy answered her, but he was obviously taken by her charm- letting her distract him from the work he was occupied with. It seemed like he was making a retinue ready, apparently on his way out into the countryside.

"Oh but I think you do know. Since he doesn't mention it then I'm sure that it must be terribly embarrassing" She moved closer to the dark man, caressing his arm and making her eyes big and playful "Please tell me, just to humour me. Guy…" Her voice grew darker when she said his name, husky and cloaked in a promise that was not so innocent.

"It's not embarrassing Vix, it's a name worn by kings"

"Oh Guy just tell me! If you do not tell me then I will call you by our little…"

"You wouldn't!"

"I would. I so like your little nickname"

She smiled at him, locking her eyes in his. And then something happened that Allan hadn't expected. Sir Guy melted- his grim cold façade fell and his features gave away to a smirk. Not a Sir Guy smirk, mind you- it was the kind of smirk that two people would try to conceal as they shared a mutual amusement in a crowded room. It was the kind of smirk that you give in to when something is… well funny. Sir Guy actually seemed to consider something to be funny!

"Well" he said and leaned towards her, keeping his voice low enough to be only barely audible from where the outlaws hid "It is 'Pippin' actually…."

And Vix laughed, she behaved just as Vix would, laughing and clinging to Guy's tall strong body. That was not odd, but the fact that Gisbourne seemed to like it was very odd indeed. The man actually laughed, not a roaring laughter, but still not the evil chuckle that one would expect for him. It was simply an amused sniggering over a shared delight. Allan had not remembered how good Vix Butcher was, but now he could see the dark jealousy in Will's eyes and realised that the Butcher sisters might be more than just a little trouble…

---

It was not long until Sir Guy left together with the sheriff, leaving Vix Butcher to join her sister and the two outlaws in the shadows by the stable buildings.

"Allan-a-Dale! Oh I never… "Vix laughed as she saw the rather uneasy looking outlaw "You are still living outside the law I see. Well that's fine- we don't mind do we, Katie? Old friends are old friends after all. But you know, I like new friends even better! And who is this stunning young man by your side Allan? How ever did you keep a friend like that from me?!"

Will swallowed, looking nervous and stiff as he answered. "I'm Will Scarlet, miss" his voice was a little unsteady- his handshake hardly more than a vague gesture that just as well could have been an accident.

"And I'm Vera" she beamed "But call me Vix, all my friends do. And my enemies too mind you" She turned to Allan, pleased with the blush on Will's cheeks. He was where she wanted him- in a place where she was the sun and the moon and the earth and the heaven. "What do you want- surely it is something terribly dangerous."

"What do you know about the friars?" Allan said- eager to finish this off quickly. They had come for this- they would ask only this and then leave before the memories came over him again.

"They're in the dungeons. Katie brought them food didn't you?"

"Yes"

"Katie, how were they, are they being mistreated?" Will inquired. "Where are they being kept more precisely?"

"In the dungeons. Downstairs. They are being treated as prisoners with information"

"What, tortured?"

"Yes" she agreed- her face blank of all emotions "The abbot will die. A day perhaps. Maybe two"

Allan nodded at the information. It was hardly unexpected yet it was all the facts they got. Vix said less than she knew, no doubt, and perhaps Katie too. How much did these women know about the sheriff's plans?

They stayed for a while, Will small talking with Vix about this and that- flirting with her even. Allan didn't like it, but he couldn't concentrate on his young friend's badly chosen company now. His head was spinning and pounding with the old familiar headaches that he got under serious stress. He was standing face to face with Katie Butcher, and she was wearing a crimson wool dress that was wrong for her- it was too big, too expensive, too bright and far, far to red. When the two outlaws made their way back to the camp Allan could think of nothing but this red dress- how Katie Butcher once again had been standing before him draped, drenched, suffocated, in masses of crimson coloured waves…

----

"… And in exchange…" Marian said, partly turned to the corner where the outlaws hid, but her eyes were fixed on Sheriff Vaysey. She did not shiver- her gaze never flickered; only the voice had an undercurrent of anxiety.

Much had been watching Robin tensely ever since the sheriff and Gisbourne entered the hall- his master's features were dark, lost in a place deep inside that Much failed to reach. Still he kept watch over his master as one watches a wild animal; anxiously scrutinizing his mood for signs that might be alarming. These words Marian spoke felt like a judgement and they fell hard on Robin as a feared and anxiously awaited conviction. Much held his arm around on his master's shoulder- shocked to feel him tremble as a mouse with uncontrollable tiny shivers rippling through his body. His skin was rough as if he was cold- every fine hair standing at strict attention- his breathing laboured and heavy. It was only a matter of time, Much thought- but he hardy had time to finish the reflection before Marian's verdict was cast, and he was forced to control Robin's sudden reaction.

"…In exchange I take the fall instead" her nearly, but not perfectly, steady voice finished the sentence.

Robin was to tense to think, on the very edge of sanity, his body overtaken by emotions beyond his control. He was vaguely aware of Much's hand on his shoulder- a tingling sensation as the tiny hairs on his skin was forced to bend under the pressure. He had expected something like this from her, but that had only built on his anxiousness that now forced its way through his shields. There was wild and unstoppable turmoil in him- he tried to rise from where they sat shrouded in the darkness of the old manor, but Much threw himself over his back- forcing him back into safety with his own weight. The low thumping sound from the fall cut through the room as a dagger for Much, who was sure that they would be found. It would ruin everything, his master was about to get them all killed! Robin twisted and turned and tried to hiss out a strict order for Much to let him go- only to find himself stuck in his manservant's surprisingly tight grip. Much held his hand over Robin's mouth- turning his objections into a low muffled moan- and the seconds that passed grew thick with frustration and rage that slowly faded from Robin's face. It gave away to something different, an aching desperation, but it was tamed and his thoughts controlled his body- not the other way around. Now he was afraid instead, just as Much had been during the entire conversation, and feeling an unreasonable irritation at his manservant's sharp breaths as he panted for air after the odd skirmish.

A good manservant knows what his master needs even before he knows it himself, and Much was a very good manservant. Therefore it was truly disturbing to him that, ever since the return from the holy land, he'd found it increasingly difficult to understand Robin and predict his actions. Marian's presence in his life made him irrational and even more impulsive than usual. Now the two outlaws listened to the rest of the conversation in tense silence, hardly daring to breathe for fear of making a sound. Much could feel his feet going to sleep- pins and needles in his toes- lactic acid in his legs. He could still sense Robin's body shudder and tremble. The sheriff moved from away the fireplace, passing them close enough to see the weave in his dark wool trousers, and then he sat down on a chair with his back to the outlaws. He seemed pleased, the only one in the room who was content with the turn of events.

Vaysey and Sir Guy remained a while longer in Knighton Hall, making small talk and let themselves be tended to, ate the food and drank the wine that the maid came with. It felt like a hundred years, an eternity of patience, to the outlaws. Much thought his body would fall apart, it hurt like never before, he was so hungry- and the sheriff ate with great appetite close enough for them to smell the lovely seasoned meat and sweet fruits. Robin tried to ignore his own body, knew that it was weak and trembling- knew that the heart beat so hard that he was surprised that the sheriff didn't hear it, but he pushed it all away from him. Let the stupid heart pound and bounce, let the stupid hands tremble and shutter, just be silent. He had to think, but the smell of newly cooked meat made his stomach flip. He always lost his appetite when he was stressed- felt disgusted with the smell and taste of food, even the thought of it was revolting and made him feel sick. Finally the waiting seemed to draw towards its end as the sheriff rose from the chair and made his way over to the door.

"We'll pick you up tomorrow I think Lady Marian, hm?" he said as he strolled across the room "A little walk through the Wednesday market, declaring the open trial to the populous. Advertising it, yes I think I like that. And, oh… Make no mistakes My Lady. If you fail to do as you have promised I will show no mercy to there friars" He looked at the two nobles with nothing but delighted amusement in his scornful features "Well then, Marian, Eddie, see you later. This have been fun, we should do it again some time… Goodbye"

With those words sheriff Vaysey left Knighton Hall, a sulking Sir Guy close behind him, and Marian motioned to Much and Robin to stay down until the coast was clear. Then she turned to the corner where they hid, watching Robin's face in the shadows- awaiting his reaction. While Much hurried up as soon as he could Robin lingered, remaining crouched down and partly hidden. He felt shattered, unable to gather his thoughts, and now he had to face Marian. What could he say? It was too late to talk her out of it, to late to scream and cry at her, to late to pray and plead. Would this never end? Marian, she lifted him up, made this hard life wonderful and bright, and she tore him down again and again. Robin rose with some effort- his body felt so weak, feeble and pathetic- for a moment wondering if this would be his downfall eventually. He called himself a warrior but felt as a cripple faced with these problems, this woman- he needed her so badly and yet she was always in jeopardy, threatening to disappear from him forever. He stood with his hands in his sides, the heavy head slightly tilted and bent down, suddenly feeling how sore his eyes were. He had not known that he had cried, he never cried- yet he always cried for her.

There were three other people in the room but Robin could hardly feel their presence- Much's worried face, Sir Edward's silent desperation over the daughter that he failed to control, and the maid that stood so discrete and watched the tragedy- they were all shadows in the periphery. The maid didn't know what to do, but in the simple way of servants she stepped up to the table to get on with her chores and take away the food. Her movements made them all watch her, concentrating on this one activity taking place in a room that seemed paralysed. Much was the first one to speak, took charge of the situation in the same way as he always looked after his master and saw to his needs and wishes.

"Sir Edward, can I have something to eat?" he said, turning to the master of the manor. He was a commoner, a servant even, ordering nobility around, but that didn't matter. Faced with resourcefulness they all did as they were told. "The maid could give me something in the kitchen. And why don't you come with me Edward? My master and Lady Marian needs to talk"

They left the couple alone in the hall; Marian wishing he would speak and Robin wishing she had never spoken a word that day. He felt angry with her, it was irrational but he clung to that one more manageable emotion as he always did faced with a trauma.

"What do you think you are doing?" he said finally, his voice low and a bit edgy "Are you completely out of your mind!? Marian what are you doing?!" He could hear his voice rising, becoming louder until it resembled the scream that still rippled through his body, letting it out. He had to let it out. "They will hurt you, torture you, kill you even, Marian what do you think you are doing?! What were you thinking?! Marian!!!" Silly girl, silly, silly girl! "Marian why do you do this!? Why?! You're behaving as a fool Marian!!!" His face was wet so he had to be crying, the picture of Marian was too blurred to see what state she was in. She might be cold or broken- she might be angry or aloof. There was only silence from her- she let him yell at her, taking in the accusing words, accepting his panic and fear. He looked at her now, saw that she stood erect in the middle of the room, her face wet with tears. It made his anger fade- the overwhelming sadness growing in its place. It was too late, why had she done this.

"Marian…" he said with a final effort- his husky voice faint and pleading. "Why?"

"It was the only way to save them" she whispered to the room, to the walls and floorboards, to the flames in the fireplace, to the flies that circled around the left over food on the table, to the fading flowers and the woven tapestries on the walls. She knew that he heard her words but she couldn't speak them to him.

"It was not the only way" he said, some energy returning to his voice "We would have found a better way- we could have used the church's influence now that they are involved already…"

"The church is corrupt Robin, we don't want them here. Prince Johns reign has made everything corrupt. He wants it that way, a weak and corrupt England that is easy to manipulate and…"

"…Oh please! No more politics now" he interrupted her "This 'greater good' you always talk of, how can this be the greater good?! Is the greater good an abbot named Thomas now? You sacrifice yourself the same way that I did, this is madness! Don't you ever listen to yourself?!"

He felt angry with her again, frustrated and trapped by the impossible situation. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her, shake her hard and violently until she admitted that this was wrong, found a way to turn back the hands of time and make it all well. He wanted to shake her, but when his hands closed around her soft shoulders and their eyes locked into each other he pulled her close instead. This kiss he gave her was violent, soaked in tears and fear and pain and panic; it shook her more than his hands ever could have done. They squeezed together so tight that it hurt- the kisses were so deep and desperate, sucking and tugging- they clung together with such force, pushed each other around in something that was a fight and a lover's embrace all in one. It was tender and harsh, and in another time it would have ended with flesh against flesh, acting it out in tormented pleasure. Now it simply faded, their clothes dishevelled, their skin bruised and scratched. They stood leaned against each other and panted for air, taking comfort in the mild pain the dance had caused their bodies. He held her in his arms, only caressing her with light strokes now, giving her soft pecks. She tasted salt from tears, everything tasted salt.

"Why fight over this?" Marian said- her voice hushed and a bit thick from crying "It is too late. I made my choice, we can hope for the best"

She felt Robin twitch a little, but he was tired now, too tired to argue with her.

"God how this hurts" he whispered, hardly more than a draught from his lips. His words felt out of character to Marian, they were too truthful and simple. There was nothing more to say on this subject, nothing she could do to ease his pain and fear. It wouldn't help to be brave, so she gave in to her own fear and simply nodded and pulled her betrothed closer. They remained like this, silent and entangled in each other, until Much and Edward came back up to meet with them.

The father and best friend of the two lovers had heard the bulk of the conversation from the kitchen. Now Much ordered the maid to serve them supper, Edward was so feeble faced with this shock that Much took over his role as master of the house. They ate under strangely cheerful small talk- joking and speaking of the old times- but the undercurrents of tragedy never left the room. Robin would have liked to stay the night, he could have slept in the stables, he could have sat by her window until the sun rose- he could even have put a sword between their bodies and lied by her side. But Sir Edward needed this time with his only child- Much knew that even if no one else in the room did- and he made sure that it happened that way. He could be driven in times of need- he could pull himself together when his master fell apart. And that was why Robin loved him.

It was also why Robin hated him when they strolled back to the camp, exhausted by the events that had made this day into such a nightmare. Much silenced the other outlaws with a strangely authorising look in his face at their arrival- whatever Allan and Will had found out in Nottingham could wait. There was nothing more Robin could do about this, and in the moment his head hit the ground he simply fell into a dreamless slumber as a pure instinct of self-preservation.

Well that's it... Next chapter is more eventful, but I hope you liked this all the same.

plz comment!

/Trix