IV

Shoreline

Robin was dreaming; he was back at Locksley with Marian. It was summer and all about the forest was alive with colors and the very air seemed golden and bright. Marian was waving at him from the doorway of the manor, beckoning to him to come closer and there was an air of mischievous happiness about her. To Robin she had never looked more beautiful.

He tried to run over to her, but found his legs leaden and numb. Marian laughed at his attempts to reach her. Her eyes sparkling bright with mirth. Robin felt himself smile at his own clumsiness and with a slower and more determined stride he tried to reach the doorway to the manor. He couldn't move. Panic was beginning to seep into his blood. Marian was still patiently waiting for him. It was like he was being pinned down somehow.

He tried to lift one leg with his hands, but nothing would work. He tried to make out some sort of sign that he couldn't move; that he was trapped. Marian hardly seemed to notice. Panic became terror, although why he should feel so frightened in such a peaceful place he did not know. He tried to cry out to her, but he had no voice. Why couldn't Marian see his fear?

He clapped hands over his ears to block out the sound of her laughter and he shut his eyes. The scene changed and he found himself once more back in the Holy Land. He was standing alone in a small city square. A fountain trickled steadily at the center and he could hear the water droplets as clear as small knives scratching the stone basin.

Tentatively he lifted his leg, only this time he found he had movement. No longer frozen he began to walk towards the fountain. The panic had not receded, and Robin still did not understand why there was such turmoil springing from within. He quickened his pace, urged on by some unseen nightmare.

Walking about the fountain he saw her. Marian lying dead upon the sand, her white dress stained with her blood. He screamed, charging towards her. He lifted her gently into his arms. His hands traveled to the wound at her side, shakily he covered it as if hoping to stem the flow of blood. He shook her, mumbling her name. He kissed her forehead. She felt so cold to the touch.

Suddenly Marian's eyes snapped open, glaring at him accusingly. "Why did you let me die?" She demanded.

"I tried Marian...I tried to save you..." Robin moaned.

"You were too late." Marian said coldly.

"Forgive me." Robin cried.

He awoke with a sudden jolt, he toppled over off of the small bed and onto the floor of his cabin, tangled in the blankets. He did not even attempt to rise to his feet, he lay where he fell, panting and breathing heavily, trying to regain his senses. He looked about the dimly lit room. He could see the only lantern in the room sway side to side as the ship rocked.

With a sigh, Robin passed a hand over his eyes in relief that the nightmare was over for the night. The agonizing peace was shattered when, from outside upon the door, came a few, short, consecutive, and loud knocks. "Master!" Much called.

Groaning Robin picked himself up from the floor, throwing the blanket back down upon the bed with a restrained fury. "What?!" He snarled.

"Master, shore's in sight." Much said excitedly.

Within seconds Robin had wrenched the door open. "And you only sought to tell me now? How long ago was land sighted?"

"I came as soon as I heard." Much said with a shrug.

Only running back into the cabin to fetch his cloak he tore up the ladder, past Much, and broke up upon the deck. Still groggy from his abrupt awakening, Robin tottered over to the rail. He cupped a hand over his eyes to glance off in the distance. He could see land, but only just. It appeared as only a cloud bank at first glance, but it was too flat and unmoving to be clouds.

"You," Robin said abruptly, grabbing one of the sailors without warning, "how long until we reach port?"

"From this distance?" The man responded, titling his head to one side in momentary reflection. "'Bout two, three days I'd say. Now, iffn' ye don't mind. How's about lettn' me get back t' work?" The sailor said roughly, plucking himself out of Robin's grasp.

"What did he say?" Much asked, finally catching up.

"Two to three days." Robin repeated mechanically.

"Fantastic!" Much cheered.

"Not soon enough." Robin said, dampening his friend's good mood.

"There is only so much we can do, Master." Much said, attempting to be reasonable.

"What's going on, hm?" Allan asked as both he and Little John made their way over to the pair.

"Just got word," Much said, turning to address them, thankful for the interruption, "landing in a few days."

"Ah, nice, can't say I'll miss this bloody ship." Allan said, rubbing his hands together eagerly.

"Eager to get back on solid ground, Allan?" Robin said gruffly.

"Aye, an' I'll never leave it again." Allan laughed.

"Like you said you would never leave us, hm?" Robin said, eyeing him strangely, "I wonder, Allan, if you're not so much eager to get back on land as you are to get back into the service of the Sheriff, and Gisborne."

"Hey, now, I told you I left 'em for good." Allan shot back, stun by the unexpected assault on his loyalties.

"None of this would have happened if you hadn't proven yourself such a traitor." Robin spat back.

"Are you blaming me for everything that's happened?!" Allan shouted.

The two men were turning on one another and the mood had gone from dark to positively murderous. Much placed a hand upon Robin's shoulder. "Leave him alone, Master; you know he's not to blame."

"Once a traitor always a traitor. Maybe we'll just decided to leave you at port when we land, Allan; have you find your own way home." Robin snarled, shrugging Much's hand away. He stormed off from the rest of the gang, tugging his cloak about him furiously as he went.

Allan stared after him, eyes whirling in fury. "He can't be serious. It ain't my fault that Marian got killed. It ain't. An' I'm not gonna turn traitor again. I learned my lesson. I ain't lying...you believe me....doncha?" He turned, suddenly anxious to his friends.

"I believe you." Little John barked, more to calm the mood of everyone then out of any truth.

"Sure, we believe you." Much nodded absentmindedly.

Allan nodded, unconvinced and hurt that his friends had lost so much faith in him. Much sighed. Not even back in England and already they were falling apart. How were they to destroy the Black Knights if they themselves were an unified rabble? If Robin didn't learn to control his grief and if they couldn't try to trust Allan again...then they would lose faith in themselves and their cause. If they didn't band together now, then everything they had been working so long and hard to protect would be destroyed.

***

The Sheriff was in a dark and impatient mood. If he knew Robin Hood, and he prided himself that he knew that boy and his motives better than any man alive, he would be on a ship heading for England just as he was. He had no sense of direction out on these waters. Were they at the head or was Robin leading the way? Either way he felt himself racing with invisible forces and on a track of which he could not control the outcome. It was making him extremely irritable, more so than usual.

What was worse was that his Master at Arms was completely and utterly useless to him. One would have thought he would have gotten over his petty grief for the leper girl already. The first few weeks had been tolerable, as all Guy had done was lock himself in his cabin. By the fourth week he had seem to come alive again, but only to steal wine from the the ship's thinly stocked cellars and drink himself into a state of oblivion once again. If Guy did not cease this act soon enough, the Sheriff was tempted to throw him overboard and find himself a new right-hand man. But as it was he let Guy alone, there was not much which could be done while on this accursed ship.

However, the Sheriff could no longer let Guy wallow in his grief. A ship had been sighted, coming up directly after them. At the moment they were relatively a safe distance away and the captain had insisted there would be no need to engage in any kind of contact for the time being. The Sheriff had his suspicions. What if that was the ship carrying Robin and his gang? All well and good that they keep out of contact, for at the moment he was in the lead, and the Sheriff was a man who preferred to come in first. He need to devise a plan to catch the outlaw as they came into port, and unfortunately for him the man who would be doing the catching was lying in a drunken stupor in his cabin.

The Sheriff was about to bang upon Guy's door when one of the ship's crewmen halted him. "Wouldn't do that, if I was you." He said seriously.

"Well then, thank God you aren't me." Sheriff Vaysey said sarcastically.

The man merely shrugged his shoulders, "Man's gone mad in there." He continued to explain, "Broke ol' Finch's back two days ago, an' he never did no wrong but look at him funny. Poor ol' Finch...'ad ta t'row him overboard naught but yesterday. Dead as a doornail he was."

The Sheriff listened to the man's story with odd amusement. Good to know that Guy had at least not lost his killing streak. He did not require the man to be sane, just brutal. "My good man, come here." Vaysey gestured congenially.

"Aye, sir?" The man complied taking a few steps over to him to receive any further instructions.

Swiftly as if to prove a point the Sheriff rapped three times upon the heavy wooden door. Almost immediately he could hear pounding footsteps near the door. It was wrenched open and the Sheriff ducked down, shoving the unfortunate sailor forward. Without looking Guy merely reacted in the way he had been to all who disturbed him; he punched the man squarely in the jaw. The man flew backwards, his head connecting with the wall behind him. He fell face down; unconscious even before hitting the floor.

"Fantastic aim." Vaysey remarked, coughing lightly as if to hide his own amusement at the brutish scene.

Guy turned to glare at him, almost tempted to send the Sheriff reeling backwards with a punch as well. Guy swayed on his feet, only his hand upon the door kept him upright and slightly steady. He stared down at the Sheriff through blood shot and bleary eyes.

"Are you sober?" the Sheriff sniffed.

"I think so." Guy slurred out, he had been in constant drunken state for so long he had forgotten what soberness felt like.

"Then get yourself on deck." The Sheriff snapped impatiently. "There's something you need to see."

"Yes, m'lord." Guy growled out.

Staggering, Guy followed the Sheriff up the ladder and out onto the deck. The sun momentarily blinded him. He shielded his eyes with his hand as he stumbled out into bright light. Blinking, his eyes adjusted to the sudden change in lighting. The fresh ocean air whipped about him and it was surprisingly cold. He was unused to feeling the coldness of the breeze. That was when he noticed the state of his dress; his coat was in complete shambles, half on and half off, and some of the clasps were either missing or dangling awkwardly to one side. One of the sleeves was torn, how that had happened Guy could not recall. He had lost his gloves, again, as to their whereabouts Guy could not be sure.

Still following the Sheriff, Guy found himself leaning out against the railing. The Sheriff pointed out to see. "Do you see that?" he asked him.

"The ship?" Guy said, squinting hard to see the outline of the vessel.

"Right first time!" The Sheriff mocked, "Do you know who might be on that ship?"

Guy was silent, although whether or not he was truly thinking over his answer the Sheriff could not tell. "Robin Hood, you imbecile!" He answered for him.

At the mention of that man's Guy seemed to hunch over, like a wolf crouching down in a hunter's pounce. His hands clutched the railing tightly, he looked as if he would have jumped overboard and swum the entire length from this ship to the one behind them if it meant he would have the opportunity to kill Robin Hood. "Are you sure?" Was all he asked.

"Shall we take a chance that I am not right, for once?" The Sheriff remarked, "If that is Robin Hood on that ship then we lead him by a good stretch of time. When that ship docks I want us ready to intercept him."

"Are we going to kill him?" Guy asked, his eyes whirling darkness and hell.

"Oh, so quickly?" The Sheriff asked, "Capture him first. He can come with us back to Nottingham, and then, Gisborne, we shall make an example of him...and I will leave the workings of that up to you."

Much to the Sheriff's surprised Guy actually smiled; although it looked more like a wolf baring it's fangs. The Sheriff shuddered; what kind of devil was he working with now? And how soon before the dog turned on it's own master?

***

Shortly after Guy's short excursion on deck he returned to his cabin. Already in his mind he was devising ways he would like to see Robin Hood meet his end. A hanging was too quick. He wanted this man to suffer; this man who had had everything he never had: The people's respect, a good family and friends who had loved him, and Marian...above all things Robin had had Marian. He would have sold his soul to have been given the chance to trade places with Robin even for a day. The next best thing was to have his enemy suffer as he had. He wanted him to scream, to plead, to beg, to cry like a little child; he wanted him to want to die, oh but he wouldn't let him so quickly. He would draw it out day by day; killing him slowly; and Guy promised himself it would be a long, long time before he ever allowed Robin Hood to die.

He fell asleep, lulled by the idle daydreams of Robin's torture and subsequent execution. In his mind the screams of his enemy was like the sweetest of music. He could survive off these dreams. He felt stronger because of them. Suddenly his hellish dream seemed to fade and there was a familiar buzzing of words. Such hate...such violence...what has made you so angered at the world?

The hooded woman had come again. The figure had been a familiar haunt of his dreams, and while he could not always see her he was becoming acutely aware of how to tell she was there. This time though, the figure appeared haggard and unsteady on her feet, not at all like the graceful image she usually embodied. "Who are you to judge me?" He snarled viciously into the darkness.

Do you think it makes you stronger? Carrying all of this bloodshed in your thoughts and heart?

"Yes!" Guy challenged, "This is who I am! I'm a killer, a murderer. Why shouldn't I revel in bloodshed?"

Because it hurts you and you despise it. The hooded figure said clearly. And I've seen you shed tears for those you've hurt...

"You know nothing. You're not even real!" Guy said, feeling a cold chill race down his spine at his intimate secrets being turned around and admitted to him.

I am real. You are my dream...and yet...yet you seem as much flesh and blood as I am.

Guy was feeling rather frightened of this presence now. He backed away. "What do you want?"

Stop hurting. The hooded woman sounded pleading almost, When you are in pain I hurt, when you are angered, I can feel your rage, when you are sorrowful I....The voice silenced itself.

Guy stared in silence at the figure. She was looking down, but then Guy could never see the hooded woman's face. Her arms were hugging herself as if to stop herself from reaching out to grab him instead.

Guy sneered at the figure, obviously this was a figure of his long dead conscious; manifesting itself in a dream of his. He had only to ignore it and it would sink away back into his subconscious.

The hooded woman looked back up at him. No more of these nightmares. She said, Sleep without dreams...She faded and he was left in soothing darkness.

When Guy awoke the following morning he had no recollection of the dreams he had had, or of the hooded woman who had visited them.

Next chapter should be up soon, in the meantime do review. :)