Part 7 – "Fire and Tears" (Set during "Sisterhood")


If horses were prone to contemplating how much their lives could change in a few short hours, Hawk would have been thinking hard on the subject. As it was, he wasn't terribly introspective about his change in life once again, though he was certainly confused and on edge about it as he inspected the unfamiliar stable.

The evening had started routinely enough. Marian had saddled Hawk and gone out on her weekly rounds as the Nightwatchman. Despite Robin's claims that the Nightwatchman wasn't a risk she needed to take – or more likely in spite of them – Marian had started a weekly sweep of the nearby villages not long after her ruined wedding. In fact, her wound had barely been healed before the mask and cloak had been donned again and any villager that Robin and his gang might have missed was being provided for by the Nightwatchman. Hawk became an important part of the routine in the early stages of Marian's reappearance as the Nightwatchman, as she was able to cover a large swatch of territory in a decent amount of time. The smooth and steady gaits of the stallion also helped stave off the fatigue of riding longer than if she had been on Owl. All in all, Hawk was well adjusted to this pattern and rather enjoyed it.

After several hours galloping across fields, weaving through the forest's edges and waiting near villages, Hawk was put away once again. Marian was fast but thorough in her care of him, and few would have been able to tell that the horse had been galloping about in the aid of outlawry that night. Content with a small ration of hay and a comfortable stall, Hawk relaxed, ears drooping and a hind hoof cocked up.

Suddenly, there were the sounds and smells of approaching horses, and even the old cart horse, Sparrow, lifted his head and nickered a greeting. Human voices were raised in tones that the horses knew as anger and fear. There was restless and nervous shifting from the horses outside, and the uncertainty made Hawk became anxious; it quickly spread to the rest of the stable, and the horses were tense and fidgety in their stalls.

With a sudden increase in the shouts and screams; the tang of a terrifying scent which hit the nostrils of the Knighton herd. A roar throbbed in the air just outside, growing ever louder and bringing more smoke and the sensation of heat with it. Hawk lunged against his stall door and squealed. Owl and Sparrow panicked, backing into the far corners of their stalls with pleading whinnies; the bay carriage horses were rearing and screaming in terror. Hawk struck at the door with a fore hoof, chipping the wood with the force; both fight and flight demanding to be followed. He desperately wanted to get out, but he also wanted to protect his small herd from the threat.

The stable doors flew open with a bang and a handful of Gisborne's guards rushed in.

"Throw open the stall doors and herd them out!" one yelled.

Another man, plainly more worried about Gisborne's wrath than anything, shouted back, "No, just grab the stallion! That was the only one he wanted."

"Get them all!" a third ordered. "The whole manor and this stable are likely to go up in flames!"

He quickly tossed a rope around Owl's neck and urged the old stallion out of the stall. After a brief hesitation, Owl snorted and lunged forward, galloping out of the door and down the road. The guard loosed the rope as Owl flew by and used it to give the horse an unneeded slap of encouragement on the rump.

"They'll follow the rest of the horses, and we can catch them properly later. If they don't come right away, put your cloak over their eyes and lead them out!"

Stall doors flew open, and despite any worries the guards might have had, the horses all willingly rushed out of the stable. The fire was in the opposite direction from the promise of freedom. Once out of his stall, Hawk pushed past the guard in his way and galloped out to the road, whistling for his herd. The bay carriage horse rushed to him, nickering nervously. Sparrow, limping slightly, followed by a coughing Owl. By the time that the guards, both on foot and mounted, had caught up with the herd, Hawk was pacing around the other horses to keep them in a knotted bunch. After a brief conference, the guards decided to drive the herd down the road to Nottingham, with the riders leading the way and the foot soldiers urging the horses from the rear.

The arrangement worked well for all involved. The horses were still incredibly nervous and normally would have been a handful for the guards to lead, yet they were willing enough to move away from the fire. Hawk's desire to keep the herd together helped the guards to drive them in an almost organized fashion. After a few miles, the horses relaxed, but continued to move out at a good pace. Sparrow's limp seemed to have eased away, but Owl continued to cough. His head hung low, and occasionally he shook his entire body, as if to drive away the lingering wisps of smoke from his old lungs. Hawk continued his circuit around the perimeter of the tiny herd, head and tail high, snorting indignantly at the guards.

In Nottingham, Gisborne spared only enough time to order that the Knighton herd be put in the castle stables; their exact fate would be decided later. Despite the night's terrors and the strangeness of their surroundings, the horses soon relaxed under the care of the efficient and kind Nottingham stable hands. By the time dawn colored the sky, the former herd of Knighton was asleep in their new box stalls, weary but content.

If horses were in a habit of considering their futures, Hawk would have been satisfied thus far with his newest life. His herd was with him, and a familiar friend had been stabled next door. Fox was also being kept in Nottingham for the time being. Yes, if horses were in the habit of pondering on the strangeness of life, Hawk would have been full of thoughts. As it were, he was more concerned with eating his hay, and making sure that Fox still realized he was in charge, and that there was no way the hay would be shared.

Marian felt like bursting into tears for the second time that day. She might have put up a strong front for Robin and argued her case brilliantly, but she was still heart sick. In less than a day, her home had been burned, she and her father arrested, she thought Robin had died, and a plot to kill the king had been uncovered. And in spite of everything, she had only allowed herself a few moments of the comfort given by Robin's sure embrace and a kiss before turning her back to the whispered freedom of the green wood and facing the cold work of a spy in the castle. Surely, even she, willful daughter of a lord, Nightwatchman, and now spy, was allowed a few moments to wallow in self pity and weariness after everything that had happened.

Even as those thoughts formed, Marian realized that her feet had taken her back to the castle. Knowing that her father was safe, even if he was likely worried and ill informed about the commotion around the castle that was only now settling down, he would be fine without her company for a few more minutes. She crossed the courtyard and entered the stable. The quiet darkness enveloped her and worked its subtle magic on her nerves. Moving slowly down the aisle, she looked over the horses absently, hardly noticing them individually but drinking in the peace that only horses could lend her.

A familiar nicker greeted her. Locating the source, Marian opened the stall door to see Hawk looking at her with pricked ears and fluttering nostrils. His expression was the same as if he were in Knighton, questioning but eager for a ride to escape the comfortable confines of the stable. Owl nickered at her as well, and she stopped in shock. The horses had been the last thing on her mind, but she suddenly realized that she had assumed that they had been left in the stables to face the flames.

Marian finally did burst into tears for the second time that day. She slipped into the stall and pulled the door shut behind her before wrapping her arms around Hawk's solid neck and burying her face in his long mane, sobbing. The simple reminder of her home had been too much, but the memory of Robin attempting to analyze the gift giving rights of the horse made her ache for the embrace of her exasperating outlaw. But Hawk also brought to mind Gisborne and the times when she thought he had feelings for her, those hopes now reduced to ash. Fingers twined in the thick black mane and the warm scent of horses filling even her tear clogged nose, Marian wondered if this was to be the pattern of the rest of her life. It would seem she was doomed to forever be caught somewhere between an arrogant outlaw and a disinherited knight, with the scent of smoke from lost dreams and hopes lingering in her nostrils.

TBC