Much gave the signal but got no answer. He tried again, unwilling to show himself until she had responded to him. Something might have gone wrong and then where would he be? Alone in the forest with certain death to be found if Gisborne was lurking about. Where was Tom?

A knife flashed past his face to embed itself into the tree next to him. It hadn't missed him by more than a hair and his heart nearly stopped before he realized it hadn't been meant to kill. It was only a warning. But hadn't she recognized him? It was dark, he reasoned, maybe she hadn't. "Tom?" he called softly.

She stepped out from behind another tree and he could see her shoulders slump slightly as she realized who he was. "You scared me to death, Much!" she growled as she got closer and then she held out her hand to him. "Where are the others?" Her pulse was suddenly pounding and her mouth was dry.

"On the way to Portsmouth." Quickly he detailed what had happened. "The Black Knights were supposed to be disbanded. That they've been reformed is bad, very bad." He reined in his usual babble. "YOU were supposed to be safe inside the camp."

"I got scared. There were soldiers wandering about out here, obviously looking for Robin. They almost found the way in." She shrugged. "So I led them away. Right now they're looking for me miles from here." She looked tired and worn and he suddenly had a new respect for her. She had protected them as they had sworn to protect her.

"Come on." They went inside where Much gathered a few things, a small bag of coins and some bread. "We're going to Locksley. Gisborne wasn't with the others, and that means he's up to something here."

She snarled silently. He watched the expression on her face, watched as her fury grew to frightening proportions. Suddenly he wasn't at all sure it was wise to take her along, but he had no choice. He couldn't do this alone and he was certain it was what Robin had intended. After all, he was supposed to talk to her and then go to Locksley. That meant he was to take her along to help him.

She visibly controlled her anger and put a hand on her short sword. "Let's go, then."

(Two days later)

Portsmouth was a disaster. Robin and the others had managed to frighten off the horses and beat the knights to their destination, but then it had gone very, very wrong.

It had been a trap, pure and simple.

There had been no rebellion to squash; the people there were despondent, incapable of raising enough hope to even think about fighting back, much less actually do it. They had tried to stir the poor, had done what they could, and then the troops closed in.

Royal troops. Those wearing the colors of Prince John himself.

It had been a mad dash to get out of there before they were taken and none of them escaped unscathed. Cuts, bruises, small prices to pay for their freedom, but still it galled them that they had been so thoroughly played.

Robin was in a foul, foul mood when they reached the camp and it wasn't eased any when he realized that both Much and Tom were absent. They hadn't returned from Locksley, though it had been more than two days and a half since they'd parted ways. That in itself was bad. That his friends might be in Gisborne's hands was worse. He knew, without any doubt, that Gisborne would stop at NOTHING to get what he wanted, whether it was Robin's head on a pike or Tom in his bed. Ruthless and heartless weren't strong enough words to describe the knight.

Gisborne had killed Marian with his own hands when she stood in his way. He had loved her, and he'd still killed her. So what chance did Much and Tom have when he bore no trace of tender emotion for either of them? His hatred would make him even more dangerous.

They would have to sneak into the village and try to overhear what had happened. With Gisborne in attendance there, they couldn't bloody well walk right up the road into town; it would have to be stealthy and cautious.

They were halfway to their destination when Robin held up a hand and they once more concealed themselves in the underbrush. But what they heard wasn't as much cause for alarm as it was cause for hope.

Two sets of feet, running. Only two. No pursuit, nothing more than two people, running hard. Then voices came to them and they relaxed, Robin giving a smirk as he recognized Much's incessant complaining. "I don't know what you're whinging about," Much was gasping as they neared. "It wasn't you he was aiming that crossbow at! I could have been killed!"

"Yes, Much, of course you could have." Tom's voice was full of good humor though she was panting with the effort. "Oh, come on, they're not following any more. Listen. No sound. So slow down already!"

They both stopped and bent over, heaving for breath, but it didn't stop Much from going on. "It could have been worse, I suppose," he said finally as he turned his head to look at her. He wore a small smile. "You could have been caught."

"I almost was. Good thing I had something to throw." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Well, it seems you two had quite an adventure while we were gone!" Robin said brightly as he stepped out onto the road, the others following. "Come on back to camp, then, and tell us all about it." That something bad was in play was a given; Much had a spreading black bruise on his temple, a nasty cut in the center of it, and Tom's shirt was torn at the shoulder. No, not torn. Cut. Sliced cleanly and there was a nice wound beneath it, though nothing life threatening. He threw his arm around his lifelong friend and withdrew it quickly when Much winced. "And Djaq can look the two of you over while she takes care of us." He indicated a few of his own bruises with a rueful smile.

They made it back, were safe, and Djaq had set to work doctoring them up before Tom realized John was hurt. She immediately went to him, light, gentle fingers barely touching the gouge in his arm while Djaq tended to Robin. "It looks painful," she said softly. She swiveled and got a clean cloth and some of the water Djaq had warmed. "I can at least clean it while you wait. What happened?"

"Trap," he said simply. "Prince John. He's smarter than the Sheriff and Gisborne combined." But her hands were gentle on his skin and he gave her an apologetic smile.

"Which is not a good thing," Robin piped up from where Djaq was stitching a stab wound. He gritted his teeth when she tied it off, remembering much gentler hands doing the same for him and forced himself out of memory.

Tom nodded. She cleaned the puncture carefully, using the antiseptic herbs Djaq handed her, and bound it up for him. Then the reality of what had happened set in and she forced down a shiver. She and Much could have been killed. They ALL could have been killed. And for all their friendly banter to the contrary, it had been a much, much closer call than she really wanted to think about.

John's fingers on her cheek brought her out of her reverie and she tipped her eyes up to his, searching. She saw nothing but kindness and concern and relaxed slightly. "Let me see," he rumbled quietly as he touched the cut in her shirt.

"Give me a minute," she murmured and went behind a screen, then came back in a sleeveless tunic. The cut was long, but not deep. It wouldn't need stitching, but an inch or two higher and it might have sliced her neck instead. John fought down a shudder at the thought and instead forced his hands to remain steady as he cleaned it and regarded it carefully. It wouldn't even need a bandage.

"They tricked us into fighting on their territory, on their terms," Robin was explaining as Djaq finished with him and turned to Much. He wasn't badly hurt but he'd have a headache for a while, it seemed. Someone had bounced a rather solid object off his head in an attempt to knock him out of the fight. It hadn't worked, not this time. Then his tunic came off and Tom hung her head in shame as Robin hissed in fury.

Much had been beaten, and badly. Welts from the whip crisscrossed his back, from the waist up, and many of them were broken open and bleeding. Tom couldn't look at it. She hadn't stopped it. She'd wanted to; but if she had stepped forward, Gisborne would have found her and that she couldn't face. She'd thought she could go there and confront him, face him on her terms, possibly impress on him that she was no man's possession and certainly not his. Even if she'd had to do it at the point of a sword. But when she'd seen him, she'd frozen in in sheer terror and been unable to help when Much was dragged from his own hiding place into the center of the village and quickly bound up.

It had only been when Gisborne pointed a crossbow at her friend, intending to end his life as Robin hadn't come to his rescue, that she had been able to act. The first large stone that came to hand was pitched across the intervening space, smashing the weapon away from Much and rendering Gisborne's hand unusable for a moment. He'd been roaring rage and demanding that his men find the thrower and she'd crept around to the other side of the square, only showing herself when Guy reached for the weapon and by then, she'd mostly had Much ready to run.

If Guy had realized it was her, he'd have spared no effort to track them, she thought angrily. But she couldn't have let her friend die, not for anything. And it had only been blind luck that they got moving, fast, and the bolt meant for him had struck her a glancing blow on the shoulder instead.

Much was babbling on again, telling them the story, and she kept silent. She was bitterly ashamed of her fear, her inability to act. It could have cost Much his life. She should have stayed behind, but her desire to see Gisborne grovel at her feet had been too strong to resist. And yet the very sight of him had rendered her immobile, terrified and desperate to get away. But wait... Much wasn't blaming her. He was telling them that if not for her, he'd be dead.

She shook her head. "It's my fault you got caught in the first place," she said emphatically. "If I'd been where you told me, you wouldn't have had to go looking and they wouldn't have seen you. I froze and it nearly got you killed. Maybe I'm not meant for this."

"It doesn't matter," Robin said firmly as he moved to the opening they watched from. "You were afraid and you still acted. You saved his life." He turned back to face them, obviously choosing his words carefully. "It takes courage to stand your ground when all you want to do is break and run. It takes courage to put a friend's life before your own. And don't tell me you didn't. Much is alive because you DID."

"These will scar," Djaq said quietly into the ensuing silence. "You will need them salved morning and night for a few days until they completely close over." She handed him a cup. "Willow bark tea for the pain. You can have more later."

John drew Tom back against him, holding her lightly as she fumed in a lightning switch of mood. Robin's words weren't wasted on her. She realized they were true, but she also knew how close it had been. And she couldn't forgive herself for that inaction. Robin was speaking again though so she'd listen – and it felt good being in John's arms, her back pressed against his chest. She felt safe, but it was more than that. Ruthlessly she drew her attention back to Robin's words.

"We have to help these people," he was saying slowly as he paced. "It isn't just Nottingham any more. It isn't even just England. The Irish and the Scots are in the same position. And Prince John controls it all." He wanted to punch something. "King Richard isn't returning any time soon. He can't. It's on us, and people like us."

Will nodded silently and Djaq watched them, her expression hooded. "There aren't many like us," Much began evenly. "And those in Locksley are being beaten down more by the day. Gisborne's punishments have begun to rival the Sheriff's in cruelty. People are hung for the slightest "crimes," including being unable to work. If you're ill, you'd best be able to rise and go about your business or you're dead. Women who give birth are unable to care for their babes for having to work in the fields or the manor. Anyone who says a word about the unfairness of it all has their tongue removed." He shifted painfully. "Floggings are commonplace, as are the stocks and the forges." He watched Djaq's expression of horror. "Yes. Many are branded as lazy or cowards when they can't work, if they're not killed outright. And many of the villagers wear Gisborne's device somewhere on their skin. They're not given a choice. He treats them as property, not people."

Tom shuddered. She was bound to Gisborne, no matter that she wasn't with him and didn't support him. She was bound to him by the laws of England and the laws of the Church, and she wasn't sure at the moment that she cared about either. No, she was sure she didn't. She wouldn't go back. She wouldn't let him kill her, and she wouldn't let him touch her. It just wasn't going to happen.

"I had an idea," she said slowly as they began to settle down again. "It will take a lot more planning than I can manage on my own, but I think it'll work." She knew she had their attention by the way silence fell in the camp. She didn't move from John's loose embrace, using it instead to steady her nerves. This would be difficult to sell to them because of how they felt about the nobles, but she had to try. "I've friends among the noblewomen still. Friends who'll help me if I ask, who'll help US." She caught Robin's eye and held it. "My father's estates at Sibley don't yet belong to Sir Guy. They belong to me. And I can use that influence to get those friends to drop supplies and perhaps even coin to those in need."

"And how long will that last?" Much demanded. "If he's your husband, doesn't that automatically mean he can manage your estates without your assistance? Didn't he gain everything when you were married?"

She chewed her lower lip for a moment. This wasn't going to be pleasant for anyone. "He has to have an heir before things pass completely to him, remember? However, there is a clause he could use. After a year, if I haven't given him a son, he can have me declared barren, and the marriage is dissolved leaving him with everything. Or if I die."

"So why didn't he kill you outright?" Robin mused and she shivered.

John's arms tightened fractionally around her and she nestled a bit closer still. "Because he'd much rather have an heir. Because that's what Prince John expects. And because he wants to make me suffer for stabbing him in the first place." She felt John's rumble of protest and saw the others close in, angry on her behalf.

"Then we have a year to use your plan," Robin said quietly. "Where do you want to start?" He wasn't certain of this for a moment. Their last foray out of their usual haunts had been disastrous, as witness all the wounds Djaq had tended that night. And Much, Much was in no condition for them to do anything for a few days.

"Lisette of Fontaine will be in Nottingham next week, with her husband. He's to pledge his support to the Sheriff then. If I can get her alone, we can make our case to her. She'll help. She hates Vaizey, and she doesn't really care for her husband. She'd do it for the excitement alone." Tom shook her head with a wry smile. "She's a bit of a rebel and her husband tolerates it. Mostly. She could be a big help to us, spread the word. I just have to be able to get to her to give her the details."

"Next week." Robin's jaw tightened.

"It will give us time to heal first," Djaq said suddenly. "We can't fight in this condition and if we go to Nottingham, we will have to fight. Things are worse there now, too." Her voice was soft. Will put his arm around her reassuringly and she leaned back into it.

"These people can't wait a week!" Robin exploded. "If what Much says is true, a week could mean the deaths of all of them. We have to do something NOW."

"What can we do, then?" John growled back. "You can barely lift your sword, and Much can't possibly do any fighting. No. We can't go now. We have to wait."

Robin made a strangled noise of rage and glared at the ceiling. It didn't matter that they were right. He needed to do something, and he needed to do it now. It tore at him that he couldn't help those in danger.

"Maybe there's something we can do," Djaq said quietly into the strained silence. "There are plants that can cause illness without really damaging the body. If we could get Gisborne and his men to eat them, they would be too sick to hurt others."

"And how do we get them to eat it?" Much demanded. He was getting cranky. His back was on fire despite the salve, and his head was throbbing like a drum. "We can't bloody well just deliver it to the manor and tell them to enjoy!"

Robin smirked. "Much, that's exactly what we're going to do."