Chapter 10
He remembered when he first came to the forest. Everything had been fine to start with. The thrill of adventure, the excitement of openly denying the sheriff, a very thing he had long wanted to do. Setting traps, catching game, both for eating and raiding depending on what unlucky victim was to fall in it. All of it had been infatuating to begin with. Then reality had started to settle in.
No more warm beds to sleep in, no more easy meals. Not that meals had been easy to come by since the arrival of the new sheriff. Things weren't bad in the forest, but they were quite different. And for a boy who had been sheltered by his mother, and protected by his father, it was a change he wasn't quite used to.
Things were different now. Will had gotten used to sleeping under the trees, a feat made easier with the camp. But still the nights were cold, and he shivered as he pulled the blankets tighter. The nights were longer now, darkness still hanging in the air. He figured it was still early, a guess he made listening to the heavy breaths around him. And the quiet snores. At least Much was sleeping soundly.
He opened his eyes briefly, trying to search the camp around him, but could see nothing. He drew a breath, pulled the blankets around him tighter, and tried to go back to sleep. There would be time to worry in the morning.
He and Robin had to wait until nightfall before they were able to sneak out of Nottingham. Matilda had kept them entertained with what little food and drink she had. Twice they had to hide when voices could be heard at the door. Both times were of no worry; the first was a neighbor checking in on things, the second was Rosa, Matilda's daughter returning for the day. She had given them a sour look upon discovering them hiding there. Matilda had ensured them it was due to the coming baby as opposed to anything personal. Her earlier suspicions had been right; her daughter was already beginning to show.
Will could not blame her for any hostility. Rosa already was without her husband, and with the way things were going there was no telling if she could take care of the child. What was supposed to be a momentous occasion was instead shrouded by fear.
He had overheard the two talking, Rosa urging the older woman to leave with her, go somewhere far away, as opposed to Locksley where Matilda had wanted to take her. Will could not blame Rosa for not wanting to go there. Locksley had been his home, but with Chaffee residing there even he had less desire to return than when Gisborne had been staying there. Robin had convinced them to stay, promising that everything would be right again before the child came.
While there had been a lot of conviction behind his words, Will had trouble believing them. They hardly had a plan, and most of that rested on the chance that the sheriff would send the letter like Robin had wanted. When he had brought up the concern to Robin the man had merely shrugged his shoulders, answering with a typical "He will send the letter."
As much as he wanted to argue against that, the topic had changed. Robin had wasted little time on their way back to camp in grilling him about the incident that had occurred between him and Chaffee. It was a conversation he had been dreading, and one he had hoped to avoid altogether truth be told. Yet in the end things had not gone so ill. Robin had listened, had been upset, but had understood why he had done what he had. And Will had once again stressed why Chaffee was not someone to treat so carelessly.
Whether or not Robin would listen to him would remain a mystery. The man had hardly commented on it and really did not have a chance to. The others had been waiting for them, a mixture of relief and anger towards them for the lengthy delay. Robin had simply told the others that the two of them had been detained, and left it at. He of course left out the fact they had eaten and drank some wine. As watered down as it may have been, it was far more than what the others had. They had gone back to camp, and soon after they had turned in for the night, with plans of securing the stores and lacing more traps for the following day.
And that was why he needed to sleep. There was plenty of time to worry once the sun was up, and until then he needed to rest. But already his mind was racing, thoughts and ideas being worked out, and it was then that he had heard it. Will had already wondered to what had woken him the first time, but hadn't thought about it long. Now he could hear it, could hear someone walking just outside their camp.
Any thoughts of the cold were banished. Will eased himself to a sitting position, one corner of the blankets falling off as he reached for his sword. By now it was a bit easier to see in the dark, fingers tightening around the hilt as he listened. One person, a person who was taking care to not be heard. That was why it had taken him so long to hear anything in the first place.
Will debated on waking the others. This was not the first time a stranger had wandered by. There were others thieves out here in Sherwood besides them, and not one of them had found their camp. If this was the case here, it was best to say nothing; any sudden noise could draw them closer.
He also knew that strangers were not the only ones in the woods. It could be Marian, he reasoned. She was often coming to visit Robin. But why would she come at such an hour? He glanced over to where Robin was sleeping, noting that the man was completely unaware to anything that was taking place. If it was Marian he should at least try and wake him. It was then he saw the empty bedroll, and the earlier tension released.
Will let go of the hilt, pushing the rest of the blankets off. Quietly he made his way to the edge of the camp, slipping out in the night air. He wasted little time in wrapping the cloak around his shoulders, shivering as the cold bit at him and fighting off a yawn as he rounded the front of the camp.
Djaq turned as he neared, her voice low as she greeted him. "I did not mean to wake you."
"I already was awake," he lied, responding with a whisper as well. He motioned to a clearing away from the camp where they could talk more freely, without worry of waking any of the others. She seemed to understand, and took the lead.
Overhead the skies were clear, the stars littering the sky in numbers far greater than what he could ever count. The moon itself was almost full, it's light filtering through the tree branches. They stopped at the edge of the clearing, resting against a tree.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Will followed her gaze to the sky, nodding in agreement. "And cold," he added, glancing back to where she stood.
She had her cloak pulled around her shoulders just like he. And like his, he doubted that hers offered much protection from the cold, his suspicion proved correct when he saw her shiver.
"How long have you been out here?"
"I could not sleep," she avoided answering him. "I have been thinking."
This he could understand. Had he not just been doing the same a moment ago? He watched her, wondering if she was having the same doubts as he was. As much as he wanted to speak of it, he wondered if it would only cause more concerns.
"What about?" he prompted her when she did not continue right away. Will was curious to what she would say.
"What did the sheriff say? Will he send the letter?" Once again she had avoided answering him, and he wondered if the was intentional, or if she was truly so distracted by her thoughts that she did not even notice.
"I wasn't there," he pointed out. Sure Robin believed the sheriff would send it. But he had his doubts.
"You do not think he will?"
"I don't think it matters if he does or not," he confessed. This he gathered was what bothered him the most.
"You do not trust him."
It was not a question. A statement, rather. No, he did not trust the sheriff. The man was not their ally, and he was not there to help them. He was only out for himself. Why Robin could not see that was beyond him. The letter demanded of Chaffee's deposition, in return of the seized tax revenue. Will could imagine the simple response to that would be one of a threat that either the sheriff or the outlaws would have to pay. And he had little trouble guessing who that would be.
"And if it does not work, what then?" she wondered.
"We move onto another plan," the answer was simple.
"I mean at all."
He met her gaze, and his confusion must have been obvious, because already she was elaborating.
"If it does not work, and Chaffee does become the sheriff...and we can no longer help the people."
Will could only shake his head. The thought had entered his mind before, but he had never let it linger for long. Robin was back, he had returned, and there was little doubt in his mind that Robin would somehow make everything right again. Maybe not in this way, working with the sheriff and Gisborne. But surely there would always be another way...
"I did not intend to stay," Djaq was speaking once again, and he saw she was looking up towards the sky. "When I first was taken as a slave, I thought of nothing but returning to my home. Yet the further away I went, the less I wanted to go back. I realized I was tired; tired of the fighting, of watching my people die. I do not know where I planned to go, somewhere different, I suppose. You and the others gave me a reason to stay."
"And now you no longer have a reason?" he asked quietly. He was afraid of the answer. The notion was silly. Yes, he did have feelings for her, but after all this time and nothing had been said. He could not blame her for her ignorance.
"I do not know." It took her a moment to answer, and she met his gaze. "It has been a long time since I was last home. I do not know what remains of it, or if there is anyone still there that would welcome me."
"You are thinking of leaving then?"
"If this does not work out..." she paused here, and he could see she was struggling to find the right words. "If we all agree that there is nothing more we can do...will we not all leave?"
He found himself shrugging. He gathered they would eventually all go their own ways. Will knew his family had gone to Scarborough, and always fancied that he would go their as well someday. But he hadn't expected it be this soon...or having things end like this. Yet what had he been expecting? That the sheriff and prince would just leave? Go on their merry way and life would return to how it was before? That all of them would be pardoned, rewarded even?
There was no word on the return of the king, no indication that crusades were close to being over. Trying to convince himself or anyone else of that matter would be nothing but a cruel joke. That was why they were here, that was the entire reason for their efforts. To help those who could not help themselves. To provide what little comfort they could offer. And Djaq was right. If they could not do that, then what reason did they have to stay here?
"We have to give it time," he finally managed to say. "We owe Robin our loyalty. If...and only if he decides it can't be done..."
"I was not planning on betraying him," she cut him off, "I was only thinking of what might come."
He didn't know how to respond to that. The thought of her simply leaving had never entered his mind, and he had never intended to implicate she would do such a thing, not without speaking to Robin first. She had ever been faithful to him; even when he and the others had left for that short time, Djaq had remained with Robin.
Will had thought about what the future might bring from time to time. He missed his family, yes, but had he not found another family here? He really hadn't placed much thought of leaving them, any of them...and yet here was Djaq, thinking of what would come after. Will always assumed that would be a long way off...yet now it didn't seem so far away anymore.
He watched as she shivered again, and without thought he held out an arm, beckoning her close to him. Djaq hesitated, only for a second, and soon he was wrapping his cloak about her, her frame pressing against his. She, much like him, was cold. But already he could feel the warmth building up between them.
He rested his head on her shoulder, thinking over what she had last said. Of what might come. If Robin's plan did not work...
"We can't give up on him," he answered in a whisper, elaborating when he realized he hadn't exactly been voicing all his thoughts.
"Robin will make things right; we have to believe that." And he so needed to believe it. Because there was little else he could believe in at the moment.
They had split up into groups, checking the stores and securing the last of their fortune before making their way back to camp. Yet another raid had been well executed the day before, and slowly their fortune was building. Robin could practically see Prince John rolling over in his bed as they secured the final hold. Mildly he wondered if the sheriff had sent off the letter. Of course he would have read it, and Robin had been counting on that.
It would make things all the more believable. He had explained this much to Will when the man had pointed it out. The letter was an exact duplicate of the others they had delivered to both Chaffee and Vaysey, only with an added note. One that specified the Sheriff of Nottingham was to see the letter delivered or forfeit his life.
No doubt Vaysey would find amusement in that, considering it was an idle threat, but the Prince would not know this. The mock threat however gave the sheriff a perfect cover in why he was sending an letter penned by outlaws without revealing they were secretly working together.
Robin knew that Will held his doubts, as did most of his men as to if the sheriff would indeed send the letter, but Robin felt strongly it would be done. The man would be a fool not to, and Vaysey's dislike for Chaffee was far greater than his disdain for Robin at the current moment.
The thought gave him a smile, yet when he began to laugh it was for a different reason altogether. Allan was growing frustrated trying to explain himself, following as they made their way along a trail above the North Road.
"I'm being serious; with the money we have now, we could buy up half of Nottingham. Then who do the peasants pay taxes to? They pay it to us; it's a perfect idea."
"It doesn't work like that," Robin shook his head, a smile on his face. They had been discussing this for the past few minutes now; yet Allan wasn't quite ready to give up the argument. Robin continued to explain.
"The taxes go to London; or in this case, the Holy Lands, they support the King."
"Not around here, they don't," Allan pointed out. "And I'm not saying we'd use all of it...just some of it. Make an investment, you get what I'm saying?"
"Half of that money has to go back to the sheriff," Robin pointed out as he came to a stop. Half, and perhaps more. Though the agreement had been reached between them, he was quite aware of how the sheriff operated, and would no doubt take all he could get. As long as they had something of value to help once things were seen through... "The rest will go to the peasants. They need it more than we do."
"Yeah, but you're just thinking of the short term, I'm trying to set up for the future-"
"And if the people don't survive the winter, there won't be a future. You know how hard the winters are."
"Well, yeah," Allan agreed.
"Then no more discussion about it, alright?" It had been amusing to start with, but now it was becoming aggravating.
"Fine," the man agreed with a bit of a sigh. Robin shook his head, turning back to take the lead.
"I'm just saying we should at least think about it."
"Allan, it doesn't work that way," he turned back around. "And even if it did, do you really think that the sheriff will let us buy out half of Nottingham and collect the taxes? With stolen tax money in first place, not to mention."
"Well, we wouldn't go as ourselves; we disguise ourselves as lords or what not, and do it that way."
"And the sheriff recognizes you and the next you know you have a date with gallows."
"I don't like that part," Allan admitted. Robin merely rolled his eyes, turning back around. Allan started to follow, already starting to come up with another sound argument as to why they should keep some of the money for themselves.
But Robin had stopped listening. There was something coming. He held out a hand, motioning for the other to stop. Robin dropped to the ground, Allan following suit without asking any questions. Though the look on his face said he was not sure as to what was taking place. Robin pointed towards the road, and saw the understanding the other man's eyes. All the silly talk and notions were gone, in it's place was focus and concentration.
Robin scooted himself up further, allowing him to see over the ridge of the hill they were perched atop. Allan did the same, and a grin crossed his face as he saw the traveler on the road. The man was dressed in fine black robes, embroidered in red, riding a white steed. He was alone, and at his side were several purses that even from this distance looked heavy.
"Would you get a look at that," Allan commented gleefully. "I'll go around, cause a distraction, you come in from the front?"
Robin grabbed his arm, stilling his movement, "Quiet..."
"What?" he fell silent when Robin glared at him.
Robin turned his attention back to the rider, chewing on his bottom lip. Something didn't seem right about this...
"I think I recognize that seal," Robin explained, realizing just then what it was.
"What seal?"
"On his shield," the man pointed, Allan frowning as he tried to see. "You can see that from here?"
"I'm not sure, but I think it's the prince's" Robin confessed. It was difficult to tell, and maybe he was being paranoid. But something about this lone rider gave him reason to pause. A target that appeared too easy was often not. This was something he had learned the hard way.
"The prince?" Allan was surprised. "You mean Prince John?"
Robin nodded, "I won't be sure unless I get a closer look."
"What are we waiting for then?" Allan was getting ready to move, but Robin still held him down. Allan was starting to protest, but Robin motioned for him to be quiet, and then pointed to the road as another wave of riders could now be seen. Now there was no doubt in his mind. This man did come from the prince; the reputation through Sherwood was well known and no doubt this was an attempt to draw them out. Bait them with what seemed to be one lonely rich traveler, only to have an entire bodyguard just moments behind. How clever...
"A trap?" Allan wondered, bringing up the thought on his mind. Robin nodded in agreement, but it was more than just that.
"I think that might be our messenger," Robin explained, motioning to the man in the front. "Prince John wouldn't send him alone, not with the reputation of our forest." He hoped it was; surely by now the letter the Sheriff sent would have reached the prince. And this was his reply...
"So what do we do?" Allan wondered, as Robin counted the men that followed. Far too many to attempt an ambush with just the two of them. Even with all of them...
"We follow them," Robin answered, scooting back. Allan followed his lead, both of them keeping close to the ground. There would be no time to go back for the others, he mused, and he wanted to see exactly were they were headed.
"Stay out of sight, keep silent, and whatever you do, do not intervene."
They had gone to Locksley. Robin had told him that Chaffee might have his own personal messenger, and he was wondering if this was it. The lone traveler was dressed elegantly, noting a position of high rank, or at least good luck. The man moved with ease to front of Locksley Manor, thumping the door multiple times.
It was Thornton who answered, Allan making out his frame only moments before the man disappeared. Chaffee was there soon after, the two men exchanging greetings as though they were long lost friends. He glanced at Robin, who was watching with a deep frown on his lips.
"What are they saying?" they sounded like a bunch of children, words garbling and mixed together. It wasn't that he couldn't hear them, but more so he couldn't understand them...
"He's a messenger alright," Robin answered, daring another step forward. They were in the village, hiding at the edge of an abandoned house. They were far to exposed here for Allan's liking, especially given it was in the middle of the day, but Robin hardly seemed fazed. Yet he supposed all the attention was focused on the bizarre exchange happening only a few feet away.
"You can understand that?"
"Some," Robin explained, "another Frenchman."
"Of course," Allan rolled his eyes, and pressed himself against the side of the house. "So we know he's a messenger, can we go now?" The sooner they got out of here the better.
"We can't leave. The fact he is here might be because of us. I need to know what's happening."
"What, you gonna go up there and invite yourself in?" He raised his hands in protest at the glare Robin turned on him. "What? I'm just being honest, you can't expect just to waltz right in."
"No," Robin agreed, and Allan let out a sigh of relief. For a time he suspected Robin might just do that. The man might be fine taking unnecessary risks, but he wasn't.
"We'll go back to the camp. You can go to Nottingham tomorrow and find out what happened." Without him, he wanted to add. Going to Nottingham to babysit Robin, that was Will's business.
"I don't trust the sheriff" Robin hardly gave it consideration.
"Funny, and here I thought you two were the best of pals," he muttered, regretting the words as soon as he said them. Robin however didn't respond, his gaze still focused on the manor. Allan could hear the voices die down, a door shut, and Robin's frustrated sigh.
"You're not seriously considerin' going in?" Now he was really worried. If Robin did go in, Allan would have to as well. And he really didn't fancy that idea. The man didn't answer, instead he moved away, darting across the open road and into the shadows on the other side. Allan swore under his breath, watching as Robin motioned for him to follow. He was crazy...
Allan edged his way to the side of the house, watching as the guards that remained outside mulled about. None were looking in his direction, but that thought was hardly comforting. The streets were empty, most of the villagers having fled to their homes when the procession arrived. With his luck, he would be spotted.
"Allan," Robin hissed at him, motioning for him to hurry. He drew in a breath, taking one last look at the meandering guards, and darted across.
"You're going to get us killed," he grumbled, crouching near the other. His heart was hammering, his body tense, waiting for the sounds of heavy footfalls, signaling they had been found. But there nothing save for the birds singing in the trees, the slight whispering of the wind.
"Have some faith in me will you," Robin mocked him, acting as though Allan had wounded him. He didn't wait for a response, already moving along. Allan followed with a sigh, knowing what was coming. He gave Robin a boost, waiting until the man had made his way into the room before climbing up after. He could easily stay out here, and much preferred that, but he also knew the others back at camp would skin him alive if they discovered he let Robin go in alone.
Besides, he figured this way he could at least hurry Robin along. The sooner they got out of there, the better off they would be.
It was dark in here, heavy clouds hanging overhead blocking out most of the day's light. Robin gave himself a moment for his eyes to adjust before moving towards the door. With slow, steady movements he reached out, taking a hold of it. He jumped when hands landed on his shoulders, cursing under his breath at Allan as it slipped from his hands.
"Sorry, I didn't see the rug," Allan griped, kneeling down near him. Robin pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him as he reached up for the door once again. He opened it just enough to peek out, and to allow the sounds to filter in, but not enough to draw any attention should any unwanted gazes pass their way.
They were speaking still in French, that much Robin could tell, and he could pick up enough of the conversation to understand what it was about. Drinks were poured, food was served, the delicious aromatic scents wafting up to them through the air. Next to him he could hear Allan's stomach growl, the man blushing as he glanced at him.
"I haven't eaten since this morning," he protested. Robin nodded, knowing that he too had not eaten since. He hadn't realized how much of the day had passed already. They would leave as soon as he got some answers. That was promise he could hold to.
Robin turned his attention back to the conversation, listening as they discussed the taxes, or rather the lack of them. Chaffee was flustered, which gave Robin cause to smile. So it seemed their plan was working. But what of the letter, he had to wonder. Did the sheriff send it? Did John not send this man as a response?
It was then he heard the mentioning of a letter, and he scooted closer to listen to what the response was. He let out a sigh a moment later, discovering it was not the one he was hoping for. Instead they were discussing the mysterious letter Robin supposedly received. They were desperate for it, and that only made Robin wonder what exactly the content held.
Before long his joints began to ache. He shifted, trying to ease some of the pressure. Allan was doing the same next to him. Time was passing, the meal downstairs ending, the clearing of plates and hustling of feet as the servants cleaned up the mess. Talk was idle now, two friends speaking of mundane topics. They had been here for too long. Any talk of interest had already passed, and Robin knew he would not learn anything here.
He closed the door, moving carefully to his feet. Allan did the same, letting out a groan as he stretched. "I can't feel my legs..."
Robin's own muscles were stiff and sore, tingling with every step he took. He crossed the room to the window, bracing himself as he checked the surrounding area. Some of the villagers had come back out, but the streets were still quiet. Best of all, there were no signs of guards. Now would be the time to leave.
"Come on, let's get out of here."
"Give me a moment will you-"
The man didn't get a chance to finish; the door burst open just then, Robin turning just in time to see Allan grabbed from behind. Robin yelled his name as he moved, seeing the sword come out of nowhere as the man was pulled back. In one, quick stroke, the blade sliced into Allan's throat, bringing Robin to a stop.
"No..."
"Robin," Allan called out to him, the tension clear in his voice. The cut had not been deep, had not been lethal, but blood still pooled, running over the blade that had returned to rest against his throat. From behind, Chaffee stood, pinning Allan between him and the sword. Robin took another step towards them, but the man was shaking his head.
"Now, now; small cut, he bleeds a little. Big cut..." the man trailed off, leaving the rest to Robin's imagination. It wasn't too difficult to figure out what he was indicating.
"Let him go," Robin demanded once he had found his voice. His heart was still pounding, thrown off by what had just happened, to what he thought might have happened. He met Allan's gaze, could see the fear in his eyes.
"I zink not," Chaffee answered mildly, moving the blade slightly. Allan flinched, but dared not move any further, not with the sword at his throat. As it was, both hands were gripping Chaffee's arm tightly, Allan trying to keep his balance.
"He has no part in this."
"Yet he is here, in my house?" Chaffee laughed, leaning his head against Allan's as if they were old friends. "You and I? We are going to spend some quality time together, yes?"
"Bugger off," Allan swore at him, "let go of me."
"Mind your tongue," Chaffee scolded him, "Or we could always remove it, if you don't."
"There is no need for this," Robin said slowly. "Let us settle this; it's me you want."
"You know what I want."
"And what is that?"
To his surprise the man laughed, switching to french just then. "Don't pretend that you do not know. Did you think I did not notice? That several of my possessions have gone missing?"
"There is no letter," Robin answered, no longer pretending innocence.
"Français."
"What?"
"Répondez-moi en français."
Robin shook his head. "I will not play this game."
"You will," Chaffee pressed him, switching back to English. "Or he dies."
Robin watched as Allan closed his eyes, the man's breaths heavy. With a sigh he shook his head, anger building in him. He hated the fact Chaffee was toying with him, but Allan was his main concern; he would do whatever was necessary to ensure his safety. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts; he hadn't spoken the language for quite some time.
"There is no letter."
"A shame; your accent gets in the way," Chaffee mused, "But you know you the words well enough."
"What is it that you want?"
"Français," Chaffee pulled the blade back, causing Allan to wince.
"What do you want?" Robin snapped, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"I think we have already discussed this matter."
"And my answer is still the same. There is no letter."
"A shame...then I have no use for your little friend here."
"Wait," Robin took a step as Chaffee began to move the sword.
"Ah, suddenly there is a letter now?"
Robin drew his breath, unsure of what to say, or even do. He had only a dagger, but even if he was armed properly he could not even begin to approach. Chaffee was halfway across the room, in perfect position to kill with one small move. But by doing nothing, he could be sealing the man's fate all the same. Robin drew in a breath, trying to piece together his next words.
"Or is it that you say there is no letter, because you fear of reprisal from the king?" Chaffee saved him the trouble, bringing the new question into the midst.
"I will not betray my king," Robin answered, repeating himself in french when it was requested.
"The king is weak," Chaffee scoffed. "He turns his back on his people, his only focus on the war. People die in wars, as you know. Even more so a king, where assassins from both sides wish him dead. You saved his life once, did you not?"
"How do you know that?" Robin asked quietly, his brow furling in confusion. There were not many outside of the king's army that knew of his deed. It was not something he talked about; so how did this man know?
Chaffee's only response was to raise an eyebrow. Robin let out a sigh of frustration, repeating himself once again.
"I know many things about you," Chaffee confessed. "I know that you served in the king's private guard, that you were wounded and sent home, that you once lord of this manor. Now you are an outlaw, no title, no lands, living out in the woods. And I also know that you are not weak."
This answered nothing, only left things open for more questions. Robin shook his head in confusion even as the man continued.
"You and I? We can make a good team. Help me rid ourselves of the sheriff; I know that is what you want."
"And do what? Be your puppet? I don't think so."
Chaffee laughed, the smile playing out on his face. "If it is treason you fear, then you have no worries. Once the king is gone, John will become king, and you will have his protection. I will be sheriff, you will be by my side, my master-at-arms. Think about it; Locksley will be yours again. You will have power...even your friends here," he indicated towards Allan with a nod, "they will be pardoned, cleared of wrong-doings. Isn't that what you want?"
"I will not betray my king," Robin repeated firmly, his decision already made up. It was never even a choice in the first place.
To this, Chaffee merely shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "Such a shame; you have such potential. The things I could make you into-"
"I am not yours to make into anything," Robin cut him off.
"You made your choice zen,"he laughed, switching back to English just then. Most likely for Allan's benefit. "Zis is how zis will work. Noon tomorrow."
"What?"
"Zat is when you will be back here tomorrow," Chaffee explained. "You will bring ze letter-"
"I do not have it-"
"You will bring it, or somezing most unfortunate will happen to your friend here."
"Robin," Allan called out him again, pleading almost.
"I cannot give it to you," Robin pressed, the urgency coming through in his voice.
"And every hour zat comes after zen, another unfortunate zing will happen. How many zings can happen before he dies, I wonder?"
"Robin," Allan called again, "help me. Please."
"I will get you out of this," Robin promised him.
"So sweet," Chaffee interrupted them. "But we will be going. You know ze way out. No guards...I value somezing more zan your capture."
He took a step back towards the door, forcing Allan to come with him. Robin started to follow, but was held off as the blade was pressed against Allan's throat, cutting deeper into flesh. Robin held his hands up, indicating a surrender.
"Oh, and one more zing," the man added on, as though it was an afterthought. "Any attempts to rescue him, and someone will pay," he nodded to Allan, "if not your friend, zen someone else. Someone random...you will not know who..."
"If you harm him-"
"Tomorrow, noon," Chaffee cut him off. "And zink about my offer."
It was the last that was said, the door being shut by one of the guards that had been lingering there, and already Robin could hear it being braced. There would be no way he could follow. With a curse he turned, climbing out the window. He needed the others, and he needed them now.
TBC