Chapter 10

Robin stood there, looking after Guy and Marian for a while, and then sat down hard. He was still dizzy, but this was not what let him weary: He'd lost her, he'd lost Marian; he still couldn't believe that she had chosen Guy of Gisborne of all people over him. She belonged to i him /i and not to this loathsome traitor. When she had told him that she had agreed to marry Gisborne to protect herself and her father, she had lied. Somehow that bastard had managed to ensnare her and she fancied herself in love with him. Robin knew that soon she would recognise the truth and see the evil in Gisborne, but then it would be too late; she would be his wife.

Finally, Robin clambered to his feet and grabbed the satchel with bread, wine and cheese Marian had left for him. She had also added a dagger and a knife, since she had not been able to bring his bow. Still, Robin felt weak and knew it was best to rest for a while; he was hiding in a hole beneath a tree, covering himself with twigs. Since it would have raised suspicion if Gisborne had left the horse in the forest, Robin would have to walk, but at first… He was fast asleep in less than a minute. Hours later, he woke up; he would have to hurry up if he wanted to arrive at the camp before dusk.

"A ghost, a g-g-ghost!" Much cried, his feet rooted to the spot. He had been out in the bushes to relieve himself, and all over sudden, the figure of Robin had appeared in front of him. "Nno, nno, ghosts are supposed to appear at midnight, what… And w-why are you haunting i me /i ? I've always been faithful to you, master. You should be at Nottingham Castle, haunting Guy of Gisborne." When the figure drew nearer, Much seemed to regain his senses; he ran away, his arms moving like a wind-mill. His mates were still sitting around a little fire where some rabbits were roasting, although nobody, even Much, had appetite today. They looked up in astonishment when they saw Much running towards them, who finally lost his balance and fell on his face. But nobody wasted a second look on Much when they saw who was coming out of the bushes. "It's really nice to have such helpful mates," Much grumbled, getting to his feet and dusting his clothes. "You should… What's the matter with you?" He turned around to the direction where everybody was staring and saw Robin. Reality sank in; it had been no ghost he had seen: Robin was alive. His friends hugged him and clapped him on the back, then urged him to sit down. Robin was still pale and had bruises and cuts on his face. "How did you escape? We heard that Gisborne killed you."

"Marian helped me", Robin said slowly. The men sobered instantly. By this time, Marian had become the wife of Guy of Gisborne.

"We won't abandon her," Allan said. "You were right when you wanted to kill him. We have to put an end to this. Tomorrow, when everybody is still drunk from the festivities, we'll go to Locksley and disburden Marian from her new husband and Locksley from its new master."

"No!" Robin said. His friends looked at him in surprise. "No, leave her," Robin repeated, his voice flat. His friends knew better than to request an explanation and even Much didn't say a word when he saw the expression on Robin's face. They said at the fire for a while and then Robin lay down, covering himself with a blanket; it was nearly dawn when he finally slept.

Robin seemed a little refreshed though the next day, but Much noticed that he had changed. Gone was the easygoing young man, who liked to joke. As much as his mates questioned him, Robin didn't tell any details about his escape from Nottingham Castle nor did he talk about Marian again.

Guy slipped out of the bed and walked over to the hearth, putting some fresh logs in, then went to the washstand and poured fresh water into the bowl, washing himself. It was dawn, and Marian was still sleeping soundly. The night with her had been wonderful, all he had dreamt of, but probably he had been given a glimpse of paradise only to lose it afterwards. Deep in his thoughts, Guy stepped to the window and looked out. What should he do now? When - and this was only a matter of a few days - the Sheriff found out that Locksley was alive, he would try to dispose of his lieutenant. Albeit the Sheriff himself had ordered the examination of Locksley's "corpse" by a physician, he would blame Guy for Hood escaping again; Guy knew that he was walking a thin line.

The Sheriff smiled; he was content that everything had gone so well. His lieutenant was married and it would be nice to watch the couple making the living hell out of each others life. Robin Hood was dead, and without his lead, the other outlaws would be as harmless as they used to be. The peasants had learned what happened if the Sheriff's orders were questioned. Yes, this was a good day and a good time to raise taxes. Maybe he'd think of an additional tax tomorrow, a tax for breathing the good air of Nottinghamshire perhaps.

Three days later, the Sheriff didn't smile any more. His transport had been attacked and the money been stolen. The guards were positive that they had recognised Robin Hood. The Sheriff didn't know how the bastard had faked his death. Probably, the physician had been bribed, but unfortunately, he could not be questioned since he had fled as soon as the news had spread that Robin Hood was alive. It was Gisborne's fault, of course. If he had not challenged Hood and beat him up afterwards, Hood would have been hanged. Gisborne turned out to be a burden.

The Sheriff had been too friendly; he hadn't raged about the stolen money nor had he accused Guy of having been careless with Robin Hood. He'd even offered good wine and fine venison and Guy knew he had to be more careful than ever from now on. It was late at night when he walked through the empty halls and yard, heading towards the stables where his stallion was tied. Suddenly, his skin prickled and the fine hairs on his neck stood; he hadn't heard a sound, but he knew someone was there. Surreptitiously, he drew his dagger. Then, more sensing the movement than actually seeing it, he swiftly stepped aside, but too late to escape the blow. A sharp pain in his shoulder let him cry out.