By now it was almost evening, and the sun, gradually, was beginning to sink behind the tops of the trees.

"Not far now, ma'am," Legrand told her as they walked through the gate and began to cross the small meadow that led back into the forest, "Because we cut through the village we can afford to travel fairly slowly. If we go too quickly we'll be there before the convoy."

"Thank heavens," she remarked wryly to John who walked at her other side, "At least we don't have to run."

"Quite, your Majesty," he agreed, looking as genuinely relieved as she was.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back as they continued walking.

"I must say, your Majesty," Much chimed in as he jogged along beside them to catch up, "It's nice to have a woman around. Apart from Djac, of course, but she doesn't count. I'm almost sorry that we have to see you leave."

She grinned at her shoes. Even when he was supposed to be someone else, she realised, Mr Branson was always walking straight into it as far as she was concerned.

"Almost sorry, Much?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow, "Don't I quite merit fully fledged regret?"

His ear, still protruding from under his hat, glowed slightly.

"No, no," he tried to correct himself, "That's not what I meant at all, your Majesty, I-..."

"Isn't the Queen a good enough companion for you?" Will asked, bashing him playfully over the head with his bow.

"No!" Much insisted, "Well, I'd far rather have her with us than the Sheriff's mother, wouldn't you?"

Isobel hooted with laughter at this unintentionally meagre concession towards a complimentary remark.

"I should say so," Legrand agreed, "She was an old witch even before I went to the Holy Land and that was a good few years ago. It seemed as if she was a hundred years old even then. Is she still alive?" he asked, his tone indicating a definite degree of some doubt.

"Oh, very much so, by all accounts," John replied, "And very much herself."

"What's she like?" Isobel asked him. She was anxious to talk to him properly; he hadn't spoken to her for more than a sentence at a time since he'd seen her being led through Locksley Village under Legrand's cloak with his arms wrapped around her. As he looked in the other direction she cast an observant glimpse at his face. He did look astonishingly like Richard, right down to the moustache, in spite of his increased height and bulk. Isobel really couldn't make up her mind whether she liked him best like this or not. In fact she was so rapt in her contemplation of the matter that she almost missed his answer.

"Rather like a dragon," he told her, "Vicious, predatory, scaly. She stays in the castle mainly-..."

"In the dungeons, some say," Much chipped in.

"Only rears her head to come out in public when there's an execution on, and even then it's only when it's going to be gruesome. And it's said that she has never, in all the time she's been seen in public, been known to smile."

For some reason Isobel thought of Cousin Violet.

"Yes, I know someone like that too," she remarked lightly.

Matthew was walking ahead with Sybil.

"Come on, you lot," he called back to them, cupping his hands around his mouth to shout,"I said we could take our time, but you're taking it to the extreme!"

Isobel sighed.

"Is he always this much of a tyrant?" she asked John, as they picked their feet up a little more quickly.

"He's Robin Hood," he reminded her, "He's a legend. He can afford to be as tyrannical as he likes with us," he gave her a bit a wary smile, "He's young, and he means well."

"Yes, I've no doubt," Isobel replied, "I only wish he would try to mean well in some other way than making me run everywhere!"

…...

They stuck more closely together once they were inside the forest. Only Robin and Legrand knew the way to the place where they would meet the convoy and they all had to keep up to avoid getting lost.

"The convoy will take you back to Aquitaine," Matthew told her, "Passage has been secured for you on a ship that's leaving from Dover without going into the port. You'll be picked up in a fishing boat and taken out to meet the ship. An inconvenience, your Majesty, but it means you'll be safe from anyone who might inform Prince John. You won't be recaptured, I can as good as promise you that."

They had reached a clearing in the trees.

"Thank you," she told him, "I owe you a great deal, Robin-"

"I should say you do," came a loud, drawling, horribly familiar voice from up ahead. It was Cousin Robert again, and it looked like he had a lot of soldiers with him. Apart from the small entourage surrounding him, they began to appear on all sides, surrounding her and Robin's men, "Your life, safe passage through Locksley Village. Not quite safe enough though; you were spotted, my Lady. And , incidentally, is the ambush we've arranged to merit that."

O'Brien! That was the name of Cora's maid, who had looked so like the woman from the village who had given her such a strange look. Isobel groaned inwardly as her stomach clenched in fear, but she was absolutely determined not to show it.

"So much is obvious," she replied, her voice sounding deceptively eloquent, "And you do not scare me, Sheriff," she told him.

"I ought to," he informed her, "As seen as your men are so greatly outnumbered by mine."

There was no argument to that, it was so obviously true. She steeled herself, trying to think of a sharp reply but the facts of the matter only pressed ever more heavily on her mind and she could not think. Cousin Robert laughed at her silence.

"Guards," he instructed, "Capture the Queen, kill the rest."

As the guards advanced down the banks of the clearing towards them, there was flurry of activity as Robin and Legrand's men sprang into action. Sybil, Matthew, Legrand, Will and Much all drew their swords forming a circle around her.

"John!" Matthew called, "MOVE!"

Nodding swiftly, as if he had had the manoeuvre planned all the while, John ducked out of the way of a passing arrow, throwing his arm around Isobel's shoulders, forcing her to duck as well, and making her charge out of the centre of the clearing. It was clear that he was trying to lead her to safety, but on their way away from what was swiftly becoming the main body of a fight they encountered three soldiers advancing menacingly upon them. With one motion with the large wooden staff he carried, John knocked one of them out cold; hooking it around the neck of the other and dragging him forcefully out of the way. Unfortunately, that left one soldier running straight at Isobel.

He stretched his arms out to grab her, and Isobel knew she had to act herself, John was to far away to reach her before the soldier did, she couldn't rely on him to protect her. She swung her left fist around as if making to punch the man beneath his visor, and he easy arrested her wrist in between his thumb and forefinger.

He grinned at her, revealing horrid teeth.

"You'll have to do better than that, your Majesty," he told her, leering.

"Oh, I will," she informed him, "When I use my good hand."

In his confusion she promptly walloped him around the jaw with her free right hand, sending his helmet flying. He was heavily disorientated by the blow, and taking advantage of this, Isobel kneed him sharply between the legs, knocking him easily to the floor.

By that time, John had reached her.

"Come on!" he told her, grabbing her by the hand and running with her further out of the clearing.

They stopped behind a large boulder.

"Your Majesty, get behind there," he instructed her, indicating to the stone, "Get down and stay down."

Turning on his heel to rejoin the fight, he left her and she did as she was bidden, needing a chance to catch her breath. All she could hear from the other side of the stone was shouting and the thud of metal on metal, along with the snapping and breaking sound of the forest being disturbed by the fighting. The longer it went on the more anxious she grew, in spite of the fact that it meant Robin's men were holding out well.

Finally unable to stand this waiting any longer, her heart hammering in her ears, she ventured a peek around the side of the boulder. By now it stood that so many had been hurt or killed that there was now only one on one fighting. She counted all of Robin's men, at least, still standing and fighting individual soldiers. Turning her head to her left, she saw a sight that struck fear into her; Matthew, unarmed, was fighting Cousin Robert who was holding a dagger. Every protective instinct in her immediately made John's warnings fly straight from her mind.

Hurrying across the clearing, she crept as quietly as she could behind Cousin Robert. Taking the crown from her head, she drew her arm back and brought the metal swiftly down across the back of his head with as much force as she could muster.

"That's for the poor!" she told him, as he sank to his knees, keeling over completely.

Slumped on the floor, Matthew kicked him so that he lay on his back. He had been knocked out cold. Matthew looked at her with a mixture of shock, awe and wonderment.

"I promise you, that's as close as he's ever going to get to the crown," she told him when he didn't say anything, wishing he didn't look so stunned. She herself was trying to process the fact that she'd just knocked two grown men to the ground.

The soldiers, seeing that their leader had been defeated, were retreating hastily and the individual fights were breaking up.

"Where on earth did you learn to do that, your Majesty?" he finally asked, his voice rather hushed, "Sporting tussles round the castle in Aquitaine?"

Isobel shrugged.

"Something like that," she replied.

One by one, the men were running across to join them.

"Who knocked the Sheriff out?" Sybil asked Matthew, looking mildly impressed amid her relief.

"Not me," he replied, jerking his head towards Isobel.

Incredulous eyes swivelled towards her.

"The Queen?" Much asked, voicing everyone's disbelief.

Isobel nodded slowly.

"I thought I told you to stay down?" John demanded of her, sounding genuinely angry.

She opened her mouth, about to protest, but she was cut short by Will's voice from the other side of the clearing.

"Over here, everyone!" he called, his voice sounding strained and panicked, "Legrand's been wounded."

She did not miss the fear in Matthew's face as they unanimously turned around to run to where William's voice had come from. Legrand was lying on the ground, his tunic stained black with blood, his head resting on Will's knee. Isobel took one look at him and knew he would not last. No one lasted when some much of their blood was outside of their body.

"Legrand," Matthew fell to his knees beside his friend, clasping his hand in his. Isobel already knew what it would feel like before she saw the shock that Matthew tried to hide: it was stone cold, "Legrand, my friend."

Legrand spoke breathlessly.

"The Queen?" he asked.

"I'm here," she assured him, "I'm safe, Legrand, thanks to you."

His eyes flitting shut, she saw a final smile pass his lips at the news as his breathing stilled altogether. Oh God, she thought, a man has actually died for me. A good and kind man. She put her hand to her mouth, unable to say anything, closing her eyes tightly. She felt an arm around her shoulders, solid and substantial in weight but at the same time rather tentative. Turning her head, she saw that it was John. After a moment, she let her head rest against his shoulder, thinking vaguely of poor Cousin Edith, tears trickling down her face.

"How did it happen?" Sybil asked Will.

"At the beginning he went straight for the Sheriff," he told her, "About four archers went for him at once. And then the Sheriff took advantage and stabbed him."

"He was a hero," Matthew concluded, "He died like one."

Isobel wiped her eyes.

"We must give him a proper burial," she told him, "Before you send me off. I insist upon it."

Matthew waited for a moment, and then nodded.

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