Thanks Goes out to Kegel for betaing this for me. Chapter isn't as long as the others this time, but I'm expecting a longer chapter next time. Let me know if you're still reading, and thanks to your patience


Chapter Ten: Acceptance

The fair maiden still lingered on his mind. Like a ghost from his past. He knew full well that if it had not been for her, then he would have met his match. He had seen her before, once in the hallways after being led from the dungeons. But he knew her more than that…and yet not at all. She certainly knew who he was. Then again there were many that did, and he could not even recall their names.

Still, something inside of Robin knew to not be surprised by her fighting prowess. Somehow he knew she was there to help, and not to harm. And something else was there that kept him from speaking of her to the sheriff. Robin had almost convinced himself it was because the mission had been his and his alone. Admitting that another had helped was almost the same as admitting he could not carry out the mission given to him now. And if he could not do that, then his life would be forfeit.

Robin let out a breath, rolling to one side, the knowledge heavy on his mind. Wrapped in the warmth of his bed roll was a far difference in comparison to the musty stench of the dungeon. It was, he had to admit, quite pleasant. It wasn't just the soft cushions underneath him, but the sounds of the forest that surrounded him, the even breaths around him from his companions that helped ease him.

Yet at the thought, the knot that was in his stomach earlier had returned. Robin found himself rolling to his back once more. Rest was not coming easily to him, despite how worn and tired he was. His mind was afire with what he knew and the wonderment to what was still missing. It was a collection of jumbled thoughts, leading him to wonder if half of the memories were real, or if they were concocted in order to please his wandering mind.

Such as the maiden he had met before. There was something that told him there was something about her. Something he couldn't speak of. She was in some form of danger, but he couldn't describe what type of danger, or where the source of danger was even from. He remembered the foreboding feeling that lingered in his chest when he met with the sheriff afterwards. Of how the words danced on the edge of his lips, and even still he could not speak them. He was keeping her safe; but from what, and more importantly why?

Robin had followed his own instinct then, even if he didn't truly know what it wanted. He was sure, that even if his mind could not remember, his body would. And yet, what he had just done felt more of a sin than anything he could even imagine. Not the keeping of the secret, but of the killing. He had killed before. The feeling was not foreign…just unwanted. And yet the deed had been done.

Was there any choice in the matter? Robin liked to believe there had not been. The man had not been surprised to see him, had not waited to see what he would do. Even when Robin had offered him a chance at retaining his life, the man had cast it aside like empty words. Instead he had been the one to attack, driving him back, willing and needing to take his life.

The man had been good with a sword. But so had he. Robin unconsciously fingered the hilt of the dagger that remained hidden amongst the blankets. Even though these strangers…these people he knew and yet could not recall, had welcomed him warmly, and had risked their lives to see him safely out of the castle, Robin did not trust them. Not if they had been the ones to cause this misfortune in the first place.

The sheriff had urged him to take haste, that no time could be wasted. Every moment that was lingered on indecision could be his last, that there was no certainty as to when or even how they would strike next. And the secrets they could pull from him if information was what they were truly seeking could be devastating. If he could remember anything, that was.

Robin let out a sigh, closing his eyes. What he would give to remember anything coherent, instead of the faint whispers that danced in his mind just beyond his reach. He could see faces, and hear voices. He knew them, knew that he could trust them, but the new voices that entered his mind tricked him, deceived him, made him think that all was not what he believed. There was more to this riddle; he knew that much for sure. There were more questions he had, and they needed answers before he acted on them.

Tomorrow…somehow, he would find a way back into the castle, find his way back to the sheriff, to Guy of Gisborne, and find out what else was missing. It would be the first thing he would do, before taking any form of drastic action. Even if it meant risking his life. Somehow that just seemed natural, something he would do…Robin was sure of it.

It had been so long…so long since she had last done this. She felt the thrill, but also the fierce pounding of her heart, drowning out any sounds around her. Marian took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm down, reassuring her mind that all was well. After all, she had done this many a-times, just a few years ago.

And yet the Nightwatchman had yet to make an appearance for that long. It was foolish, her mind reasoned. They would connect the two instances, her disappearance happening at the same time as the phantom, and his reappearance with her. How could they not?

But the Nightwatchman had been wounded all that time ago. Some would believe him dead…others would imagine he had taken leave to recover. So his reappearance wouldn't be too suspicious, or so Marian hoped. Yet it wasn't only that, but her journey here hadn't left her in the best of sorts for packing. Toting her leathers and mask along with her wasn't the primary thought on her mind when she had left.

The clothing was Lyre's; the man was larger than she, but only marginally so. She hadn't hired him for his strength, but instead his wits. She could care for herself well enough, and only needed a guide for appearance. He was a simple man who had lost his tongue in an unfair fight, and had been the one to help her and her father's transition to their new life.

He too, was staying in the castle, at her request. Guy was so eager to please her he had even offered the fanciest of rooms for them, but she had declined. It was easier to hide when one blended into society, and she needed the camouflage more now than ever. Slipping to Lyre's room had been easy, and the man didn't even question when Marian requested some of his old clothing.

They were plain, a grayish dark without any embellishments. But it was what she needed. The black of the night would help conceal her, keep her identity hidden if anyone was to spot her. The cloak was long and tattered, having seen more than its fair share of use. But it would do. She fastened the fabric about her neck, pulling on the hood.

A scarf, one her father had given her, served well for a mask once dyed in berries. It was thin enough to allow her to breathe without trouble, and tucked beneath her eyes would conceal most to all of her face. All it needed to be was secured…

The knock at her door made her jump, stifling a curse as she pulled the cloth away with haste. She couldn't be found clothed like this, by anyone, lest it raise any questions. Her heart skipped a beat, but she willed herself to stay calm. More in likely it was simply a servant coming by to fetch her dirty linen. Marian could easily dismiss her.

"Who is it?"

"Marian…I wish to speak with you."

She felt her insides turn to ice, the cloth fall from her hand. Curse it all, out of everyone, why was it him? A servant she could send away…Guy was more persistent. And if he saw her, if he knew whom she really was, he would kill her.

She saw the handle move, and lunged for it, grasping it as it turned. Her weight was thrown against the door, Marian's mind racing for an explanation. Guy would certainly demand one.

"Marian?"

The tone in his voice had changed from the pleading to one that was more firm, demanding. The same tone he used with his guards that dared to question an order. Marian swallowed, trying to come up with an excuse, any excuse.

"I…I'm not decent!" she cried, taking a breath and forcing herself to stay calm, "just a minute!"

She stayed for only a moment, dodging away when and only when she was certain he would oblige. Quickly she scooped up the fallen scarf, shoving it under her mattress, following suit with the rest of her clothes. Half followed the scarf and the rest, cape included, was flung under the bed. If found, they were ratty enough to pass as forgotten items from the last tenant, and both Marian and Lyre would have to do without the garments.

Guy was knocking again, voicing his concerns, the handle moving once more. He was not a patient man. Yet Marian knew she would not have the time to dress fully once more, it would only open her up to more suspicion. Her own cloak, adorned with fur and the one she wore for the coldest of nights while traveling through the forest, would have to do.

Hardly had she had it on and covered herself when the door opened. Marian let out a sigh, whether of relief she had made it in time, or of irritation that Guy had no decency she wasn't sure. At any rate she wasn't going to press her luck, for fear of rousing questions of curiosity.

"You caught me at an awkward moment," she confessed. "I was just heading to bed."

"In that?" he wondered, his frame hardly more than a silhouette in the doorway. His gaze moved from her to where the fire was, the flames dancing in the hearth.

She knew what his lingering gaze meant. Already the warmth was becoming uncomfortable, but she faked a smile, taking a seat on her bed. "I feel chilled…I think perhaps by what happened earlier."

"There is no need to worry, My Lady," he nodded towards her, coming into the room. "We have scouts seeking the man responsible. No one would dare return, not after what happened."

"Can you be so sure?"

Marian moved to one side, allowing him room to sit. She felt oddly uncomfortable as he did, and though the heavy cloth covered her she felt as though it was not there. As though he could see through her ploy, and tell that she was lying.

"You are safe here. I would not ask you to stay if I did not believe so. I care for you."

There were many things she could have said in response. Bring up the fact he had attempted to force her into wedlock, or how he lied about the king's return, and chased her from her home. She could have brought up the fact that the only reason she was staying here was because her home was gone, burned by his own hand. Yet she had not the time for a fight tonight.

She gave him a smile, one that proved confidence and nodded. "I trust your judgment. I am simply weary, that is all. I need my rest."

"I was actually hoping we could speak with one another. It has been so long since we have had the time just to talk."

Talking wasn't going to make him leave, rather encourage him to stay, and Marian needed that time to herself. Her worry was for Robin, her curiosity was drawn to finding out whom that man was. Something wasn't right, and her insides were heavy with that knowledge.

"If we must," she started, her mind searching for excuses. "Though I was hoping we could wait…at least until I have rested."

"Are you ill?"

The question was of concern, and quickly she smiled. The same smile that was becoming worn on her face. She would not be able to keep up the ploy much longer. "It is as I have told you; I am simply weary. It is not every day that a woman experiences so much…excitement."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded, moving to his feet. "Forgive me, Marian. I was thinking only of my own desires. I have seen more than you have and forget that things like this is a rarity for you. I will leave you to your rest, if you promise to meet with me in the morning."

Relief flooded through her, and she held herself back from accepting the deal too readily. All she would need would be the night. Then she could blame her fatigue on poor sleep. "Thank you, Sir Guy, you are too kind."

"I'll have a guard stay near your chamber," he started, continuing before she could protest. "That way no one will disturb you, and it will ensure a peace of mind for myself."

"You said it was safe…"

"There have been times where I have been wrong. I am not afraid to admit my faults, Marian. In time I'm sure you'll come to appreciate that."

"Of course," she whispered, and then nodded. "Thank you, I shall sleep easier knowing that I have added protection. Good night, Sir Guy."

"I shall call upon you in the morning."

Marian watched him leave, a scowl working her way to her face. Her excuse of being worried about the supposed murderer had turned against her. The chances of her slipping away unseen were even less now. They had been small before, and worry was always resting with her that Guy would come calling and find her chamber empty. He had come calling, and nearly caught her as well. Her antics would have to be executed more cautiously from now on.

That included starting tonight. She would find no answers, and the concern in her gut would have to be crushed until tomorrow, during a time in which she could find an opportunity to slip away without being missed. This would prove exceedingly taunting, seeing how close Guy was keeping her.

Letting out a groan she flopped back on the bed, the pillows cushioning her fall. There was little to do now but sleep, gather her strength, and try again tomorrow.

He dreamt. Of people he didn't know, of places he hadn't seen, of things he wasn't sure he had ever done. And yet it felt so real, as though he did know all of those things, somewhere, at some point in time. He reached out for them, trying to grasp them, to pull them back, to reclaim what was once his. But they were only shadows, ghosts of his memories coming back to taunt him. They slid through his fingers, coming so close that he could taste them, and smell the aroma, both good and bad in which they were associated.

He saw yellow…burning lands of sand as far as the eye could see. There was red…staining the white of the fabric, and tears due to pain. Not physical, but something else, yet what he couldn't understand. A figure cloaked in rags, an arrow nearly hitting him. There was something strange about that man…

The dreams changed, the visions shifting to a village, of people working, then running. Fleeing from those on horseback. They stormed houses, stole rings and purses right off their mantels and straight out of their pockets. There was more crying, more pleading, begging. Some words he heard, some he understood, but most were lost in a sea of cries. All swirling, pulling him one way and then another. He tried to fight against the current, but didn't have the strength.

The smells returned, this time more fiercely, of meat, cooked goods. A man offering work in exchange for food, he needed help with digging. He didn't need the food…he had food…didn't he? But someone was asking…no begging. He couldn't resist the pleading…

Robin opened his eyes, the vision fading but the smell as strong as ever. Out of his dazed sleep his eyes were slowly focusing, coming alive to the world that was around him. Whatever dreams he had held the night before were gone, reality chasing them away and proving to him that his memories were still elusive as ever.

A plate of food caught his attention, and he gripped it wearily, blinking in the early morning light. His mind, overworn and still confused from recent incidents had difficulty processing what was happening.

"Told you it would wake him up."

The voice sounded cheered, relieved at the same time, Robin eyeing the man suspiciously for a moment, trying to recall his name. He had never asked, never wanting to raise suspicion, but now he wished he had. Sorting all these occupants of the forest out was proving rather difficult.

"Well the way you cook, Much, would wake the dead, right out of their graves."

Much…that was his name. The man glared at the other who had spoken, jutting his head upwards. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You don't even know what that means."

"Of course I do," Much argued, "I can say it, can't I?"

"And I can say that I'm King of England, but that doesn't mean I am."

"I can say to both of you to be quiet, or I will make you, and I do mean it," the dark skinned one said. He turned to Robin, the humor leaving his face. "We were worried…you normally don't sleep that long."

Robin had half listened to the brewing argument, picking instead small morsels of food from the crude wooden plate. It wasn't as fancy as the ones back at the castle, but it proved its usefulness. The meat was dry, indistinguishable, but carried flavor. He ate cautiously, as though expecting any morsel to suddenly kill him due to poisoning.

But after the first few bites went without harm he continued, still willing to bring his mind from the fog that surrounded it. His thoughts from last night were still with him, and now he was even more determined to have his way. It was like an insatiable need, an urge as strong as his hunger had been the day before, unwilling to submit until his curiosity had been quenched.

"Are you going to tell us what happened? I mean, we risked our lives to get you out, but you seemed quite able yourself. Taking a detour to kill someone even…"

The question caught his attention, most particularly because the voice had been raised. Robin finished chewing the food that was in his mouth, swallowing as he starred at the other man. What had they just called him? Allan?

Names weren't that important that moment, excuses were. He could not tell them of his findings, nor could he accuse them of his injuries. Not only did he not know, but if it were true, he was honestly in real danger.

"It was something I had to do," he answered simply, hoping that would be enough to satisfy them.

"The man," the dark skinned one spoke again, his speech short but clearly understood, "he was the one in the forest."

At his blank stare he continued. "I guessed... Much had told me some about him…he sounds like what our people call a ḥaššāšīn."

"Assassin," Robin spoke the word, even though he didn't recognize the language. Somehow he knew what it was, there was no doubt in his mind. The sheriff had said he had hired the man to kill…that would make him what he was. "How did you know?"

"She knows everything," Allan commented, leaning against the tree behind him.

She? Robin turned from him to the other man…or woman, and he recognized her now. Beneath her folds of clothes was the slightest indication of curves, ones that would be missed save for a closer inspection. He blushed, turning away. With so much on his mind it was understandable on how he missed it…but surely…he had hoped, his memory would have been good enough to remember something like that. It only proved his rising fear; he could remember nothing tangible…

"If he was an assassin…who was he here to kill?"

Me…Robin thought dimly, swallowing the last bit of meat on his plate. But he could not even voice the thought, for fear of having to explain how he knew. Instead he shook his head, letting out a breath as he tried to sound calm. "Whatever the case, it couldn't have been good. I had to stop him."

"But kill him?" Much wondered.

Robin swallowed, knowing the man's words echoed those of the maiden's that had essentially saved his life. He needed to see her…needed to see Guy. "I need to get back into the castle."

"You were just there," Will argued. He was the only man that Robin hadn't forgotten, the man he had incidentally wounded with an arrow. "And you killed one of the sheriff's men. It's too dangerous."

"Will is right," the woman agreed, "you should wait."

Robin could feel his insides turn, his mind afire with questions. Why was it that they did not wish for him to return? Was it because they actually feared for his safety? Or was it perhaps because they did not trust for him to return? Was it because they wanted him here…so that they may carry out any of their planned deeds?

There was nothing for him to fear in the castle; Robin reassured himself of that. The sheriff and Guy would see him, would answer the rest of his questions. There hadn't been much time for explanations after the murder…yes, they would see him again. He would not be harmed. But the others must not know that.

"There is something I must do," he insisted, moving to his feet. "Wait here."

"We all go."

The voice startled him. For a time Robin had forgotten about the giant of a man that resided with the group. He looked like a man of strength, as though he held the ability to snap any man in two if he so desired it. At first Robin had been weary of him, his imagination running wild to the possibilities of what these people could do with such a man on their side.

But he spoke little, kept to himself, and soon Robin had grown accustomed to him. Had almost grown to like the man's quiet company. But his company was not one he desired on this escapade. He wanted to say no, wanted to forbid it. Yet he had no real notion as to how the others were to react if he said so. He didn't want to alarm them, didn't want to tip them off to his devious deed.

Instead he nodded, calming his nerves, and forcing a smile. "I will need help to get inside, I suppose."

"Getting in is easy," Allan replied, "getting out is the hard part."

"You're all insane," Much argued. "A man is dead…and Robin his hurt. So is Will; we should stay here."

"I'm fine," Will argued, already on his feet. His arm was still bandaged, but it hung freely at his side, clutching a bow. "And I'm coming."

Robin nodded, "Then let us be off."

TBC