Chapter 6
A Bad Surprise
Robin felt his blood run cold. He held his breath, his heart pounding. For an instant, his face evolved into confusion and then turned into contemplation. He thought that the assassin looked strangely familiar, trying to unearth in the depths of his memory where he had seen the man before. But it was not a mere hallucination – he knew the masked Saracen in the past.
Taking a deep breath, Robin took in the assassin's features. His left hand fidgeted nervously with his collar; the other hand was at his side. And then Robin's face changed into fury, and he uttered a curse under his breath. He remembered the face of the young man who had killed his father by starting the fire in the Gisborne Manor; he recognized Guy of Gisborne in the prisoner.
"Wait! Wait!" Robin shouted. If he spoke too loud, it created significant pressure on the muscles of his chest and his injured side throbbed in pain.
The guards stopped and looked at Captain Locksley, waiting for a new command. Robin stopped near the prisoner, his eyes focusing on the raven head lowered in pain and weakness. Robin asked the Earl of Leicester, who stood beside him, to give him a scimitar. He extended his arm until the tip of his blade caught the point of the prisoner's chin, which pushed the man's face up.
"Guy of Gisborne, what a bad surprise from the past," Robin said matter-of-factly.
Guy scoffed. "Still not dead, Locksley?" His voice was slightly tremulous, so great was the humiliation he had to endure after being flogged and then approached by his mortal foe.
Robin leaned down to Guy's face. "So you are the so-called masked Saracen."
"Astonished, Locksley?" Guy laughed but then groaned in pain.
"I have always known that one day devil will send you back into my life and we will eventually meet," Robin replied with a faint smile on his face, the tip of a scimitar caressing Guy's chin.
Guy smiled painfully. "It is a pity that you are not dead."
"You tried to kill King Richard and me on the same night, didn't you?" Robin demanded, outraged, his blue eyes darkening with anger, the tip of the sword tracing Guy's throat.
"My life is out of your business." Robin knew the truth, and Guy didn't need to say anything aloud.
Robin's cold voice spoke, "Well, it shouldn't be a surprise for me that you turned a traitor because there can be no more bad surprises about you than I have known what you are capable of doing since childhood. Nevertheless, I have to say that I'm amazed to see you here."
"Shut up, Locksley," Guy barked.
Robin punched Guy into his stomach with all his strength he was able to gather. Guy screamed in pain, and Robin punched him again, this time in his mouth. Digging his nails into the palms of his clenched fists, Guy cursed aloud and gave a murderous glare to Robin; blood was flowing out of his split bottom lip. Then Robin thrust his fist into Guy's stomach, again and harder, so hard that he himself had to suppress a groan of pain that swept through him because of the increasing tension in his body. Then he again slammed his fist into Guy's face.
The Earl of Leicester and Much were silent, Much in awe and Leicester in understanding as he had already realized who Guy was in reality and what role he had played in Robin's life.
Robin bent forward, closer to Guy, his face in inches from Guy's. "You killed my father, Gisborne, and I haven't forgotten that," he hissed between clenched teeth.
Guy eyed Robin contemptuously. "Your father deserved to die."
Robin slammed his fists into Guy's face again, and Guy screamed in pain.
The two guards, who were holding Guy about his shoulders, were listening to the dialogue; they were shocked to the core. They didn't know the back story of Robin's old conflict with Guy, but the fact that Robin accused Guy of murdering his father took them aback.
"What is this criminal talking about?" Much intervened. "How can he say something bad about Sir Malcolm of Locksley, one of the kindest men in the world?"
Much loved Malcolm and mourned the loss of the man together with Robin. Robin's father had found Much in the street in Nottingham several months before the fire at the Gisborne Manor; then he had taken the boy to the Locksley Manor and had let him become Robin's manservant. If Much hadn't been taken to Locksley by Malcolm, he would have starved to death.
Leicester tugged on the sleeve of Much's tunic. "Much, don't interfere."
"Don't provoke me, Gisborne. I can become less magnanimous," Robin threatened; his face was in inches from Guy's, and it was contorted by anger. "Gisborne, you almost killed me. You wounded me from the back, not in a fair fight, and I won't forget about that easily."
"Ah, Locksley! Pretending to be chivalrous, eh?" Guy said with a sour laugh. "King Richard's best warrior and grand favorite?"
Robin nodded at the guards, who held the masked Saracen, giving his permission to beat Guy. The youngest guard slapped Guy hard across his cheek. The first slap was followed by the second and the third and then another more. The second guard slammed his fists into Guy's stomach and chest until Guy gave a howl of pain. Then Robin raised his hand, signaling to stop.
Robin punched Guy into his face again. "Most importantly, Gisborne, you almost killed King Richard, my sovereign and my friend." He drew a deep breath, holding it for a long moment; then he turned his gaze at Guy. "Now you will answer to the King for your treason and pay to me for your crimes."
"Locksley, I don't care what you are saying." Guy's tone was edged with scorn.
"Gisborne, you are not a fool, and you understand the grave nature of your crime," Robin shot back. "You wanted to kill King Richard. Your deserved sentence is a brutal death."
"Damn you! Go to hell!" Guy growled.
The guard spat into Guy's face. "Respect King Richard and Captain Locksley, you murderer."
"Your Captain is a bloody hypocrite," Guy snapped angrily. "He plays a hero and a soldier, but he is nothing – absolutely nothing."
Robin slapped Guy again. "Shut up, Gisborne." His lips curved in a lethal smile. "You are an utter fool. Don't make your situation worse. Or did the heat deprive you of your last brains?"
After these words, Guy went still. He realized that he had done a wrong thing when he had allowed himself to have a clash with Robin. Perhaps, he lost a chance for survival.
Guy hung his head. He was lightheaded and very weak from all the beatings.
"Robin, what we should with this worm?" Legrand asked cautiously, struggling with anger and rage which overwhelmed his heart; he loathed and hated Gisborne.
Robin turned around to face Legrand, who stood behind him. "Legrand, all my previous instructions are in full force. This man should be fed well and his wounds should be tended to."
Legrand gave a nod. "I will do as you command, Robin."
Robin cast a disparaging glance at Guy, nearly gasping with outrage and fury. "I strictly prohibit everyone to conduct interrogations of the masked Saracen. As soon as I feel better, I will interrogate him by myself. Now you must keep him alive and let him recover."
Legrand's face changed into bewilderment. "Yes, Robin. Should we take this murderer away?"
"Just a moment," Robin said quietly, his tone neutral. "Legrand, what I will do to the captive is only the King's deal and my deal. This man is mine and only mine for interrogation. Do you understand me?" There was a ring of finality in his tone.
"Yes, Robin." Legrand heard Robin's conversation with Guy; he was shocked with the connections between the King's favorite and the masked Saracen.
"Good," Robin said. "Take him away."
Robin lingered his gaze on Guy of Gisborne, his sworn enemy. It angered him madly, that there might have been anybody from his past who wanted to kill the King of England and him on the same night and so cunningly. He didn't remember himself being ever so angry. He clenched his fists, frantic, vulgar curses boiling up in his throat, but then he clutched his wound as pain shot through his side. Much and Leicester rushed to Robin, embracing him about his shoulders.
Robin slowly walked back to his tent, supported by his friend and the manservant. He was watched by the King's men who were happy to see Captain Locksley alive and at the same time stunned with Robin's reaction to the appearance of the Christian assassin. The deal of the masked Saracen promised to be a hot thing after Robin's announcement with the hints that the assassin's crime somehow fell into the area of Robin's private interests. Everyone guessed what Robin would decide to do to the captive, but now they could only guess and wait.
ææææææ
After the beating of the masked Saracen had been stopped, Robin of Locksley was led to his tent by Much and Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester. Unnerved by the meeting with Guy of Gisborne, Robin overexcited himself and strained his body so much that he couldn't walk quickly and barely repressed his groans as the pain in his side had intensified.
In his tent, Robin was placed on his bed, and Much immediately hurried to find the physician for Robin. Raoul de Déols, the King's personal physician, appeared in Robin's tent in a few minutes and found Robert sitting on the edge of the bed and holding Robin's hand in his own. Robin had already been undressed and lay on the bed; his body was covered with a silk sheet up to his waist.
Doctor Raoul unpacked several bottles with oils and powders. He also extracted many clean bandages and pieces of clean cloth from his medical bag. He instructed Much to bring a cup of fresh water, and the manservant stormed out of the tent. Then the physician walked to the bed and knelt, preparing Robin to tend to Robin's wound.
"Captain Locksley, you are the most disobedient patient I have ever treated," Doctor Raoul said in a lecturing tone. He removed the old bandage from Robin's wound, and once the material was peeled off, Robin gave out a howl of pain. Then the doctor took clean cloth in his arms.
Robin grinned, but his expression was painful as the removal of bandage caused him much pain. "I'm the most intolerable and the most irresistible man in the world."
Robert laughed. "My dear Robin, you are becoming yourself!"
The flap of the tent moved, and Much appeared at the entrance; he was holding a bowl of water in his arms. He dashed to the bed and put the bowl on the ground.
"Lord Huntingdon, you are so full of yourself," the physician said neutrally.
Doctor Raoul soaked a clean cloth in the water and placed it on Robin's wound. He expertly performed a long procedure of soaking therapy on Robin's healing wound. He cleaned the damaged area with red wine mixed with rose oil and some salt water, which possessed an antiseptic effect on the healing wound.
"Well, it is me, right?" Robin chuckled. "Otherwise there would be no fun in that."
"There is no fun if Robin and I are not there," Robert stated with a large smile.
"My Master was a disobedient child; he grew up into a troublesome man," Much complained, looking at the doctor's manipulations with the wound. "That's why my Master is a disobedient patient. I fear I will be unable to make him stay in the bed in the next days. I cannot just tie him to the bed, though I think it is a good idea to do that so that he cannot stand up and hurt himself."
"Much, shut up," Robin snapped.
Much lowered his head. "I'm saying nothing. I'm saying nothing."
"Robin, you are too harsh," Robert admitted. "Much is worried about you."
"Sir Robin, your manservant is right," Doctor Raoul agreed. "You need more time to recuperate."
Robin sighed. "Was my condition really… so bad after I had been stabbed?"
"Actually, I was sure that you would die in fever and that you would never awake," Doctor Raoul confessed. "Your wound was almost fatal." He removed the cloth from the wound and soaked it with oil from the bowl. "You survived, and I believe that God spared your life for some reason."
Robert sat on the other side of the bed. "Robin, I also believe that it is God's will for you to live."
The sandy-haired man shook his head. "I don't know."
"Master, believe me, you were very sick," Much said quietly. "I was always by your side, and I saw your agony and pain for many days." He swallowed heavily. "At times, I thought that you would die if I fall asleep, and then I would never see you again."
Robin shut his eyes; he felt almost sick of guilt at the thought that he had just insulted Much when the man was simply worried about him. "I'm sorry for being unkind to you, Much."
Much regarded his master with a small smile. "Master, you don't need to apologize."
"Anyway, I'm sorry," Robin muttered under his breath.
Much blushed, and his eyes grew wide. Robin had never apologized to him before, though he had often hurt Much, at times even deliberately. "Thank you, Master," he answered with a large smile, warmth blossoming in his heart that was beating faster in delight.
Robin smiled at his loyal manservant. "Welcome, Much."
Doctor Raoul took a large bottle filled with rose oil from his medical bag. As Much brought a cup of fresh water, the doctor measured a few splashes of liquid in the cup. Then the physician soaked a fresh bandage with the liquid and placed it on Robin's left side.
"Ah!" Robin moaned at the touch of the cloth with his wound. The sensation was cool and irritating.
"You have to be patient, Sir Robin," Raoul said in soothing tones. "We need to keep it on your wound for at least five minutes."
"Oh." Robin gritted his teeth at the unpleasant sensation on his hurt.
"Doctor Raoul, how is the wound healing?" Robert inquired, his gaze focused on Robin's side.
The physician lifted his eyes and stared at Robin. "It is healing well," he informed. "Captain Locksley doesn't have any infection or inflammation, and he won't contract another fever."
A look of vulnerability crossed Robin's face. "Does this injury… have any lingering effects?"
"No, it doesn't," the doctor responded with confidence, sliding his fingers across the muscles of his patient's side. "Sir Robin, you had a penetrating injury on your left side, but neither your lungs nor any other vital organs were damaged." He muttered something unclear under his breath. "It is a miracle that the assassin's blade didn't pierce your heart and that you didn't die on the spot."
Much and Robert felt their bodies trembling as their minds drifted off to the moments of Robin's demise in the King's tent. The visions of Robin withering in pain, moaning quietly, and shaking in convulsions were dreadful and engraved into their memory forever.
Robin felt his heart filling with mortal terror; it seemed that he had been very lucky to survive. "I was shooting arrows when I was stabbed by the masked Saracen. I think I slightly changed the position of my body when he stabbed me; it should be the reason why the sword didn't damage my heart."
"Most likely, you are right," the physician said. "If the angle of the penetration had been a little different, you would have already been dead."
"Master, I was so scared when we found you in the King's tent," Much lamented, his expression shocked, his voice anguished.
Robin smiled. "Much, I survived. It will be fine."
The physician finished the oil treatment of the wound. Then he bandaged it, trying to be as gentle as he could, but there was no way to avoid causing Robin at least some pain. He got to his feet and took another bottle with a white powder. He took a cup and added the powder to the water. Raoul nodded at Robert and Much, and they pulled Robin up from the pillows.
The doctor brought the cup to Robin's lips. "Drink this, Captain Locksley."
"What is it?" Robin was dumbfounded.
"Sleeping draught mixed with painkilling herbs," the physician clarified.
"Thank you." Robin's lips were trembling as he drank the thick liquid.
Doctor Raoul sighed with relief as Robin emptied the cup. "Sir Robin, you will fall asleep soon. Your sleep will be calm and peaceful; you won't be plagued by nightmares." His gaze slid to Much. "Take care of your master, Much. If something happens to him, come to me." He chuckled. "But I don't think that he will awake until tomorrow's evening. He will have much time to rest."
Robin scowled at the physician, understanding that he had been given sleeping draught to prevent him from leaving his bed. He frowned at the sight of Robert's smiling face and Much's relieved expression. And yet, he couldn't deny that he hadn't recovered yet and, thus, needed much rest. He was even glad to some extent that he would be able to have a peaceful sleep and forget the dreadful reality – the regicide attempted by Guy of Gisborne.
Doctor Raoul gave Much more instructions. He bowed to Robin and Robert and headed to the exit. He walked directly to King Richard's tent; Richard had demanded that he would come straight to him after the examination of Robin's wound to give a full report about Robin of Locksley's health and recovery.
Robert and Much helped Robin to lean back against the cushions. It was already dark outside, and Much lit the torches in the tent. Robert looked at Robin in anticipation, while Robin stared broodingly into the dancing orange flames of the torches, thinking about the masked Saracen.
"Robin, is the Christian assassin the man whom you once told me about?" Robert inquired.
Robin swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes, he is Guy of Gisborne."
"Master, I don't understand why you were so angry when you saw the masked Saracen. Who is this murderer? Why did you accuse this wretched man of murdering Sir Malcolm? And why does he hate Sir Malcolm?" Questions tumbled from Much's lips one after another.
Robin reclined back into the cushions. "Much, my father took you to the Locksley Manor several months before the day of the fire." There was a tremble in his voice. "You are three years older than me, and you remember many events better than I do." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "If you remember Lady Ghislane of Gisborne, then you should remember her two children – Guy and Isabella."
Much gave Robin an incredulous look. "Now I remember the Gisbornes! Roger of Gisborne was banished from Nottingham because he was a leper and was slowly dying. Gisborne used to be a small village near Locksley, but it was included in the Locksley estates after the day of the fire."
"Exactly," Robin confirmed.
"Well, this is what I thought." Robert's face darkened.
"Master, are you sure that it is Guy of Gisborne?" Much wanted to know.
Robin shook his head angrily. "I recognized Guy of Gisborne at first glance." His voice was low and cold. "I would have never forgotten the young man whose reckless behavior killed my father."
"Robin, this damned man hates you," Robert said briefly.
"Gisborne hates me, and I hate him," Robin bristled hotly. "I will never forget that it was Guy who started the fire at the Gisborne Manor. He killed my father and his own parents."
"Gisborne started the fire and killed several people," Much growled. "He became a murderer on the day of Sir Malcolm's death. In his adulthood, he continued killing people, and now he came to Acre to murder King Richard." His expression twisted into hatred. "Eventually, Gisborne has become a traitor."
Robert gave a nod. "This wretched man is a cold-blooded murderer and a traitor."
"But I also committed many mistakes," Robin admitted truthfully. "I lied that it wasn't my arrow that wounded the priest. Guy was almost hanged for an act of my own mischief with arrows." A pang of guilt stirred in his heart. "I allowed Bailiff Longthorn to banish Isabella and Guy from Locksley after the destruction of the Gisborne Manor by the fire." He glanced away, sighing deeply.
"What are you talking about, Master?" Much stared at Robin in shock. "You were just a seven-year-old child when Sir Malcolm died. You were shocked and frightened on the day of the fire. And there was nothing you could have done to stop the Bailiff because everyone wanted to banish the Gisbornes from Nottinghamshire – everyone in Locksley and Nottingham."
"But maybe I could have done something," Robin contradicted, suddenly looking very weary. He felt dizzy and lightheaded, understanding that the sleeping draught was starting to work. "Indeed, I was scared, and there was chaos in the village." His voice resembled a lament. "But I also wanted Gisborne out of Locksley and out of my life because I blamed him for the death of my father."
Robert took Robin's hand in his and squeezed it. "Robin, look at me."
Robin turned his gaze at Robert. "What?"
Robert glanced into Robin's eyes. "Robin, my friend, you did a wrong thing with an arrow, but I agree with Much that it is not your fault that Gisborne was banished from Locksley. Everyone wanted Guy out of the village after he had set the fire and had killed Sir Malcolm. And Gisborne's father was a leper, and there was a chance that his children could have been infected with a mortal disease as well."
Robin smirked darkly. "I could have defended Guy and Isabella, but I didn't want to do that."
Much shook his head disapprovingly. "Master, you could have done nothing." He pointed a finger at Robin. "Master, you must never blame yourself for Gisborne's crimes!"
"I feel guilty not of his regicide attempt, but of my role in his downfall," Robin acknowledged.
"Robin, stop blaming yourself," Robert said gently. "You did a bad thing when you denied your guilt of injuring the priest by your arrow, but everyone makes mistakes. And you learned from your mistakes."
"I never lied again," Robin said truthfully.
"I know," Robert said. "Everything that happened on the day of the fire is Gisborne's entire fault."
"I remember young Guy of Gisborne," Much interjected. "Young Guy often came to Locksley with his mother, Lady Ghislane. I liked Lady Ghislane, but I barely tolerated the sight of Guy." His expression twisted into obvious loathing. "Guy seemed to be a well-behaved young man, but in reality, he was cruel and sadistic."
Robert arched a brow. "Was Gisborne cruel in his boyhood?"
"Yes," Robin answered with a nod. "Once I witnessed Guy's cruelty, and I was scared." He took a deep breath. "In the warm summer afternoon, three months before the fire, my father and I went on hunting in Sherwood; Much accompanied us." His voice took a lower octave. "On the edge of the forest, we spotted Guy among the trees. He held a rabbit in his arms, and then he twisted its neck, killing him… for some strange reason."
The manservant grimaced in disgust. "He did that for pleasure because he was cruel."
Robin shrugged. "Maybe for entertainment, for it didn't look like he was hunting in the forest."
Robert frowned, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, it seems that Gisborne has always been cruel. If he had been a kind and well-behaved boy before the day of the fire, he would have never killed a rabbit in that way." His frown deepened. "It has some similarity to killing in cold blood."
"Yes." Robin stared into the flames of the flickering torches.
"Whatever he did in childhood, Guy of Gisborne committed an act of high treason," Robert said uncompromisingly. "He deserves the most brutal punishment – being hanged, drawn, and quartered."
"Guy of Gisborne is a traitor." Robin's voice was icy chill. "You are right that nothing he had to endure after his banishment from Locksley can justify his regicide attempt on King Richard's life."
"I have heard about Gisborne's fever dreams. The guards talked," Much said in a hissing tone, looking at Robin. "Master, this man came to the King's camp to kill both our King and you."
Robin was quiet for a long time, and nobody dared break an oppressive silence. He felt his body shaking with helpless rage that Guy of Gisborne, the man whom he had blamed for his father's death, was the King's would-be assassin. His feelings were beyond anger and rage that Guy of all people had arrived in Acre to assassinate the King and him on the same night. He hated Gisborne with all his heart for the murder of Malcolm of Locksley since the day of the fire, but the revelation that the same man had almost killed the King and him sent him to the verge of his sanity.
"I know that Gisborne hates me," Robin said sharply, unaccountably angry. He blinked his eyes, trying to get from the clutches of sleep. "He tried to murder the King and me, but I stopped him at the very last instant." He clenched and unclenched his fists. "And I loathe him more not for trying to kill me but for his attempt on the King's life."
Robert saw that Robin wanted to sleep. "Robin, we will discuss it later. You need to sleep."
"I'm so tired," Robin whispered, clutching at Robert's hand and clinging to it tightly.
"Sleep, Master. You need to rest," Much said softly.
Robert brushed away the strands of hair from Robin's forehead. "The more you sleep now, the better you will feel tomorrow, my friend." His voice was a caressing murmur.
"Yes, I'm falling asleep," Robin murmured with a dreamy smile.
Robin pressed his hands on his forehead, feeling dizzy, his eyes heavy with sleep. His eyes darted between Robert and Much, and he felt as if he were falling deeper and deeper, into the darkness of the blackest void. He shut his eyes and drew a deep breath. The darkness enveloped him burning away his consciousness, and he could no longer struggle with sleep.
Robert left Robin's tent, while Much watched his Master with a large smile on his face. Much was happy that Robin's life was no longer in grave danger. Much feared that Robin's energetic nature would prevent his master from being attentive to his health; he was secretly relieved that Robin had been given sleeping draught, for Robin needed rest to recover. He also rejoiced that he could sleep himself because he was tired after nursing Robin back to life.
ææææææ
Robin awoke next evening, and he knew instantly that something was different, but it took him several moments to identify what the difference was. There was a silence, deep and profound, and as he absorbed that, it was broken by Much's gentle humming. The spacious tent glowed in the orange light from two burning torches that hung on the two opposite walls.
Robin smiled, thinking that Much's habit to sing something under his breath would one day make him kill his manservant. Several times, when they had been hiding from their enemies, Much had started singing, and, as a result, they had been discovered by the Saracens and had had to fight for their lives. But today Robin liked Much's singing, for it meant that he wasn't alone and that he was alive.
Robin lay still for a long time, listening to Much's singing. If he didn't move his body, he didn't feel pain on his side, and he enjoyed the sensation of comfort and safety a great deal. He lay quiet and relaxed, his heart beating in a normal rhythm, but his thoughts churning wildly with the visions of his bloody fight with the masked Saracen in the King's tent.
He tossed his head on the pillow, trying to get rid of the thoughts about Guy of Gisborne at least for a while. He turned his head and saw Much standing near the table in the opposite part of the tent, but he couldn't understand what his manservant was doing. Gradually, as his eyes focused, he saw more: the table was heavily laden with platters of fish, roast beef, goose, stew, hot scrambled eggs, several sauces, and bowls overflowing with apples, grapes, pears, and strawberries.
"Much, are we going to have a small feast?" Robin asked curiously.
Much stopped humming, and turned around to face his master. There was a wide, pleased smile on his face. "Master, you awoke in time! You will be able to eat so many delicacies now!"
"Where did you take all these things?"
The manservant smiled. "Master, you lost much weight, and now you need good and rich nourishment. In the morning, I took two guards and went to the market in Acre. I bought all this food for you."
Robin lifted himself into a sitting position on the bed. Much rushed to his master and propped Robin up with some pillows. Robin thanked him and patted Much's shoulder fondly.
"Thank you, Much." Robin combed his hair back away from his forehead, brushing the thick sandy strands of hair away from his forehead. "I'm hungry. I would like to eat some goose and strawberry."
"I will give you everything you want, Master!" Much put several pieces of food on the platter. "At first, you should eat stew and goose. Then I will give you a lot of fruits and eggs."
"Good."
"Master, how are you now?" Much came to the bed and handed Robin the full platter.
"Much better." Robin's face was pale white, and he was very lean, but he really felt stronger and better rested than yesterday when he had just emerged from his slumber.
"Should I fetch the doctor when you finish your dinner?"
A grin spread across Robin's face, ear-to-ear. "Much, call the physician only if it is time to tend to my wound. I don't want to listen to his lectures about my smugness."
Much gave a little gasp of astonishment, then smiled. "As you wish, Master."
Robin remarked how Much was looking at food; he understood what his loyal and ever-hungry servant was thinking of. "Take food and eat everything that you want, Much."
Much stared at his master in shock. "But, Master, this is what we bought only for you."
Robin smiled gently. "I'm not greedy, Much. Take food and eat with me." He held the platter with food in one hand, and with the other took a swallow sip from a goblet of wine.
"Thank you." Much dropped his gaze to the ground, then turned away, embarrassed. Then he smiled and went to the table. He grabbed an empty platter and loaded it with large pieces of stew and goose. Then he sat down in the chair beside the bed, staring at Robin and smiling as he ate.
Robin finished eating goose. "The meal is fabulous and delicious," he praised.
"I'm so hungry! I'm so happy that we have a great choice of delicacies!" Much smacked his lips, and his stomach rumbled. "God bless King Richard for giving you, Master, all this food!"
It was hard to cook at the war court, and soldiers usually had quite poor daily food rations. During the siege of Acre, the King's troops had starved and many soldiers had died from hunger and weakness, but the situation had significantly improved after the capture of the city and the achievement of a ceasefire with the Saracens. Now the Crusaders didn't have to fight; they also had a decent meal every day.
Much and Robin ate rancorously, enjoying the delicious meal cooked by the King's personal cook at the Citadel of Acre – the residence of King Richard and the King's nephew Henry of Jerusalem, Count de Champagne, in Acre. Much was jealous that Robin liked French cuisine so much, for usually he cooked for his master, but, of course, he enjoyed moments when he had to do fewer things as a servant.
"Master, are we going home after your recovery?" Much's heart hammered harder.
"No, no." Robin shook his head in denial. His eyes were darkened with sadness. "The King didn't send me home, and I suppose that I will continue serving him as soon as I recover."
A shadow of mingled incomprehension and worry drifted over Much. "Master, you nearly died saving the King's life. You cannot lead the Private Guard right now."
Robin placed an empty platter on his lap. "The Saracen attack didn't ruin ceasefire, and we don't have to fight now. The King isn't going to march to the south in the next several weeks, so that I have enough time to recover."
Much took the platter from Robin's lap. He came to the table and took a bowl of fruits, then returned to Robin. "Take it, please. There are strawberries among the fruits."
Robin smiled with a satisfied smile. "Thank you." He placed a strawberry into his mouth.
"You have to eat. You are lean and need to gain more weight. And some fruit will revive your spirits."
"I will be alright soon," Robin allayed.
Much's face darkened. "And the masked Saracen…"
"Yes, there is the deal of the masked Saracen. Gisborne tried to kill King Richard," Robin said with anger, rising in his voice. "Gisborne is the King's subject. Does it tell you something, Much?"
Much blinked his eyes. "Englishman traveled to Acre and wanted to murder the King."
"Exactly."
"What do you think about that, Master?"
"Gisborne," Robin said the name as if it were a poison. "He was sent by someone from the Angevin Empire or England, and this person wants our liege dead. There is a conspiracy against the King in England." He shot me a look of anger. "Our own countrymen want to kill the King."
Much was confused. "Then it means that… some nobles want our King dead."
"It is worse," Robin said, his tone low and sad, as if he had just buried the dead, for his voice sounded morbid and deadly. "I think Prince John conspired to overthrow King Richard in his absence and sent his own assassin to Acre. The King's death is the Holy Land is in Prince John's interests."
"Oh my God," Much said, almost quietly. "You are right."
Robin sighed. "It means that we don't know what we will see home and what happened there in our absence." Another more unpleasant aspect struck him. "And if Prince John hired Gisborne, it means that there are other conspirators against the King. We need to think how to act."
"Well, it looks that we are staying in Acre," Much said sadly.
"Precisely," Robin confirmed. "I feel much better, and I'm going to interrogate Gisborne in several days." His chest heaved with apprehension. "And then we will see what to do."
Robin saves Guy from the flogging, only to realize that the masked Saracen was his childhood enemy. Robin shows his humanity by stopping Guy's punishment, but he becomes furious when he realized that Guy of all people tried to kill the King.
How do you think Robin will act? Will he execute Guy or help him?
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