As the sun rose over the battle camp and Marian's eyes fluttered open, she was greeted by the sight of Robin watching her, already wide awake. They were lying together, Marian on her back to avoid irritating her wound and Robin on his side so as to better see her face.
"Good morning," he said softly.
"Good morning," she murmured. It took her a moment or two to remember where she was and why she was there, but when she did, she smiled.
"How are you?" he asked.
She conquered the urge to laugh at him with great difficulty. "I'm fine, Robin. Stop worrying."
"You're my wife now," he reminded her. "I'm allowed to worry about you as much as I like."
"Not if I have anything to do with it," she countered, but she couldn't resist smiling and so betraying her teasing.
They got up and dressed—someone, most likely Djaq, had been considerate enough to put a less elaborate dress in the tent for Marian—lingering over the task. She couldn't stretch enough to pull the garment over her head, so Robin had to help her, and she tried not to shiver when his fingers brushed over her back. Marian pulled her fingers through her hair, not having a comb or any ribbons with which to tie it back, and Robin pronounced her as beautiful.
"You are a little biased," she said.
They made their way out of the tent and headed over to where the kitchen area seemed to be. The other members of the gang were already convened there, already eating a thin gruel for breakfast.
"Good morning!" Robin said as he ladled out some gruel for himself and Marian.
Everyone chorused the same back.
"You sound cheerful," Allan said slyly.
"And why wouldn't I be?" Robin retorted gaily.
Allan could not find an answer to that. Not in the presence of a lady, at least.
"When are we leaving for Bassam's?" Marian asked abruptly, before the conversation could stray into areas that she would rather were not explored.
"Whenever you want," Djaq said. "He is expecting us at any time today."
Djaq had taken some time during the past week to visit her uncle and ensure that he would not mind the gang staying at his house for a few days. Due to the delay of the wedding, Marian was almost in travelling condition, but Djaq was taking no chances, especially with the growing temptation of staying in the country. Will had not liked the idea of letting her go off alone, but she pointed out that she was not a minority here. In fact, she was in absolutely no danger for once.
"Will we be safe, just walking through Acre in broad daylight?" asked Much.
"I think so," Djaq replied. "Still, I think it would be better if you wore native clothing. Marian, you should wear a veil. Then we can blend into the crowd."
John looked vaguely incredulous at this idea. "That, I do not think will work."
"It will," Djaq said with certainty.
"Is there a back-up plan?" Allan asked.
"Not really," Robin admitted. "We could let Marian and Djaq go on ahead, and then we can go at night, but I'd rather not."
"I prefer the first plan," Will decided.
"You would," muttered Much.
"We'll need to inform the King of our departure," Robin said.
And so they found themselves once again begging an audience with King Richard. He, however, was in the middle of planning an attack on a neighbouring town, and could not spare any more than a few minutes.
"Godspeed your journey," he said grandly to the assembled gang of not-quite outlaws.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Robin said.
No one else was inclined to address him at all.
"And I shall return," Richard continued. "When all is safe here and I can come home to England safe in the knowledge that there is peace in the Holy Lands."
"But this war has been going on for years already!" Much said.
"Therefore it cannot go on much longer," the King said smoothly.
Robin and Much exchanged a glance, but said nothing.
"Funds for your journey," he continued, nodding at an orderly who gave Robin a bulging purse. "May God be with you," he finished.
"And with you, Sire," Robin said courteously. With that, they left.
"That is a hell of a lot of money," Allan said once outside.
"You can say that again," said John.
"That is a hell of a—"
"Alright, we get the idea," Robin said.
"I say we spend as little as possible and give it out when we're back home," John volunteered.
"Agreed," Marian said.
"But we can try and get better berths than we did coming?" Much asked.
"We were in with the cargo for a while," Djaq explained to Marian.
"Oh, go on then," Robin said. "If only because I want Marian to have somewhere decent to sleep."
She rolled her eyes indulgently but didn't argue. She, too, had been left with the cargo on the journey out, and had no desire to repeat the experience.
Back at their tents, they changed into some native garb. In the smaller tent, Djaq checked Marian's bandages once again and helped her adjust a veil, and in the larger, the men laughed at John in a bright blue tunic.
"This will not help me blend in," he grumbled.
"Suits you, though," Allan said with an entirely straight face.
It hadn't taken him long to slip back into his old role as the camp joker, which was part of Allan's charm. Still, Will in particular treated every joke with a little suspicion. John grunted, and Robin laughed. There wasn't much that could spoil his mood right now.
For hopefully the last time, they walked out of the battle camp. At least, they tried.
"Oi! You! What are you doing?"
The person calling was a soldier of middling rank. He ran up to them with sword drawn and ready, no doubt worried by the weapons they all still carried. Even Marian and Djaq were armed, though their knives were hidden under their billowing sleeves.
"Hold, friend!" Robin called. "We're English. We're leaving for the port."
The man skidded to a halt as he saw their faces. "Oh. Lord Locksley, Lord Bonchurch. I'm sorry."
"No harm done," Robin said. "You should be congratulated on your vigilance."
"Thank you, sir," the soldier said. "Um, have a good journey."
"Thank you," Much said loftily.
Djaq giggled.
The man scarpered, and Much rounded on Djaq. "What's so funny? I am a Lord now."
"We know," John said shortly.
"Yeah, you only said it about twenty three times last night," Allan added.
Much continued to grumble as they made their way into Acre, until Robin finally took pity on those who really were getting sick of it and told him to stop speaking English in case it gave them away.
"Shukran," Djaq said. Thank you.
"'Afwan," he replied. You're welcome.
Walking through a bustling Muslim town, active before the sun reached its zenith, was a bizarre experience for all concerned. Djaq found it odd to be back in the town where she had spent much of her childhood, especially bearing in mind her companions. She navigated the streets with ease, muttering "alma'derah" as she passed through the thronging streets and wondering if anything had changed here at all. John felt incredibly conspicuous, and kept his head down even as Will couldn't tear his eyes from the exotic architecture, the light stone buildings which were so beautiful when compared to the wooden huts that he was used to. Allan watched the people, and told himself that he was stupid for not even thinking that they'd be exactly the same as the English, though they all seemed to be a lot richer. How else could they afford all these brightly coloured clothes? And hang about, weren't the Muslims supposed to be really depressing sort of people? Didn't look like that to him, as he walked past a stall selling spices which smelt so pungent they made his head spin, and so vibrant that he didn't know why they ate them. Much had, of course, been here before, and he did not like repeating the experience. The whole country held so many bad memories for him. He barely bothered looking around, just wondering how long it was to Bassam's and wishing he could ask. It all looked so different in the daylight. Robin was not quite as haunted as his friend, and he enjoyed listening to the constant stream of Arabic, picking up words and phrases he knew and trying to patch them into context. He was also listening out intently for anyone who noticed them at all, but so far it seemed no one had. Too often, though, he heard the words for "died" and "soldiers" and "war" and he felt ashamed that he had once been part of it. Marian, like Allan, watched the people, seeing little children playing in the streets, people bartering for food and noticing that although there seemed to be hundreds of people out and about, none of them stopped. They were all moving with purpose, not wanting to tarry outdoors for too long. It reminded her of people in Nottingham nowadays when there were guards around.
The heat was beginning to become irritating again. John, with his ragged mane of greying hair and large frame was beginning to sweat, and for once Marian did not relish the privacy her covered face lent her. On the contrary, Robin, Will and Allan were all grateful for their loose Arabic clothing. Much was not so keen on wearing something so blatantly un-Christian. It made him feel a bit guilty, though he didn't know why.
There was one moment where Djaq felt her heart flip over. A woman turned around directly in front of her as she once again said "excuse me," and she stopped in her tracks.
"Na'am?" the woman asked.
"Walu," Djaq replied swiftly, and moved on. Nothing.
Robin picked up on her moment's hesitation. "Who was that?" he asked her in Arabic.
"Muhsina," she replied. "She used to be my best friend. She didn't recognise me."
He nodded. "It must be hard for you," he commented.
"Not hard," she countered. "Just... strange. It doesn't feel like home anymore."
"I sometimes wonder if it'll be like that when I live in Locksley manor again," he said. "With a soft bed, and a roof over my head, and servants! And even though I had all that before, I can't imagine it now."
"It's the same for me," Djaq said. "And now we are completely different people."
Finally, they turned onto the path leading up to Bassam's house, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief that they had not been discovered though some were more obvious than others. Djaq knocked on her uncle's door and a serving girl answered.
"Al anesah Safiyyah!" the girl said in surprise. Miss Safiyyah!
"Sabah el kheer, Najwa," Djaq replied. Good morning, Najwa.
Najwa stepped back to let them in, staring at the Englishmen with unashamed curiosity. Will shifted a little under her inquisitive gaze.
Bassam entered the hallway then, having heard Najwa's cry.
"'Amm Bassam," Djaq said respectfully. Uncle Bassam.
"Bent al akh Safiyyah," he smiled. Niece Safiyyah. "Salam," he said to the group at large. "I am glad to see you alive," he said, switching to English.
"Thank you," Robin said.
"And indeed, you seem to have one who I did not see a week ago," Bassam noted. "May I assume this is Lady Locksley?"
"Assayed Bassam, may I introduce my wife, Lady Marian," Robin said proudly.
Marian removed her veil, wondering if Robin would ever grow tired of saying that, and curtsied slightly.
"Congratulations," Bassam smiled. "Safiyyah told me of your wedding. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Marian."
"And you, sir," she replied politely.
"I am sure you would like to rest before lunch," he said. "Najwa will take you to your rooms."
The girl, who had been hovering awkwardly by the door, snapped to attention at the mention of her name. Bassam repeated the instruction in Arabic for her, and she murmured "Na'am, si'di," before beckoning to the group to follow her.
They made their way past a hall with a decorative pool which made Marian widen her eyes in awe, up a stone staircase and down another corridor.
"It's like a palace," Marian exclaimed. "I didn't know you came from such a rich family, Djaq!"
"When I first saw Robin, I didn't think he was noble born either," Djaq said.
Najwa stopped outside a door and muttered something.
"Two of the men can sleep in here," Djaq translated. "Will and Allan?"
Robin concealed a smile as he saw what she was doing. Will was the most suspicious of Allan, having been the closest to him before, but he would not say no to Djaq. Allan would relish the chance to regain what had been lost between them. Sure enough, Allan opened the door, and though Will looked troubled, he followed the other man in without question.
At the door opposite, Djaq told them that this was her room.
"So you know where I am," she said.
"Right next to Will?" said Much
"Don't start," she warned him.
Najwa said something else to Djaq, who answered dismissively, and the girl hurried off with one last incredulous glance. Though of course she had heard her employer's discussions with his niece, she had believed that perhaps the spymasters' plans had yet to come to fruition. But here they all were, alive and well. She would never give up the malice she bore all Englishmen, but she was not fool enough to fight these, who had evidently defeated so many. As things stood she would let them go, though with less than good grace.
"Much, John, you are here," she said, leading them to the next door along. "And Robin and Marian, you are here." She indicated the door opposite as John and Much entered their chamber with a mixture of suspicion and awe.
"Thank you," Marian said. She paused. "Is it strange, with Bassam calling you Safiyyah?"
Robin must have told Marian her story. "Yes. I haven't been called Safiyyah for a very long time. But maybe I will get used to it."
She left, retreating to the room she had used back when she was Safiyyah as Robin held the door to a richly furnished guest room open for Marian.
"Do you think she'll want to stay here?" Marian asked.
"I don't know," he said.
