Janet inhaled the rich, sweet-smelling air of the caravan, surveying the many mysterious objects that filled the space. Bottles of colored glass lined the walls, and what looked to be musical instruments were scattered about. Saffron-colored silk, lined with spangles, draped a small, round table. She shifted awkwardly on one of the small, poufy cushions that lined the floor, dragging her bad ankle, and sniffed at the posset Tsura had given her before she went outside to serve the men, who had decided to go out and feed their ponies. Despite her protestations, everyone had insisted she rest her ankle, and she was forced to sit inside with the little boy, who sat playing with a little red ball a few feet away from her. Men, she thought disgruntedly, as she heard a guffaw of laughter outside. Shaking her head, she sipped the posset. It tasted wonderful, filling her with a deep warmth, reaching all the way to her sore foot. A slight bump against her good foot snapped her out of her reverie: Nicu's ball had slipped out of his hands, and had rolled up against her. Keeping fixed to the spot, his enormous eyes were filled with fear as he focused on her face. Tentatively, she leaned forward and picked it up, offering it to him, but he remained frozen. "It's all right," she said gently, gesturing a bit. "I won't hurt you." To her surprise, the boy dragged himself right next to her, extending his tiny hand towards her, taking the ball. He leaned in close, like a lost puppy, and she found herself putting an arm around him, stroking his soft black curls. He must have been through a terrible amount of trouble this year for one so young, his mother had been taken away from him in the worst possible way, and he had nearly lost a foot. No wonder he looked so frightened all the time. Giving a little contented sigh, he nestled into her, letting her breathe in his scent, lavender soap mixed with some kind of spice she couldn't name.

She thought that the boy had fallen asleep for a moment, but when she looked down, she found him gazing expectantly up at her. Smiling to herself, she gave him and encouraging little pat on the arm. Janet had never been a girl for dolls, or thought of herself as the maternal type, but she couldn't help feeling affectionate towards this little scrap. In truth, although she certainly hadn't been a docile, obedient child, it hadn't stopped her from dreaming about the children she and Philip might have one day. And this little boy, with his velvety golden skin and sweet smile, reminded her of a young Philip. Perhaps she should tell him a story, she thought, to break the silence. When she and Philip were children, their favorite tales were those of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. In all their games and excursions, Philip was always Sir Lancelot, she was Sir Yvain, and Alfred, when he was old enough to join them, was Sir Percival. She settled on one of her favorite stories, the tale of Sir Gareth, the kitchen boy who became a knight.

"Once, a long time ago, at the Feast of Pentecost, King Arthur and all his knights were having a grand festival. At the stroke of midnight, the herald announced a young man who wished to make a request. The man approached, poorly dressed and all dirty and bedraggled, with a great beard and stinking up the hall. The only thing clean about his person was his large, beautiful white hands....why," she chuckled, as the little boy continued to stare up at her without any sign of comprehension, "you don't understand a word I'm saying, do you?"

"He understands from your voice," Janet was filled with shivers as she heard Tsura's deep, dulcet tones, not having noticed her come in. "He knows you wish to share a story with him, and that you wish to make him smile. See?" For the first time, Janet saw Nicu's little face curling up in a cherubic little grin, his two front teeth poking out endearingly. Her heart, which had felt dead for so many days, began to warm over, and she couldn't resist giving him a little kiss on the top of his head. "We'll get you well soon, petit. I promise."

"You see someone you know in him." Janet jerked her head up at Tsura's statement. The older woman's aged, still-beautiful face had a shrewd look, although the tone of her voice was still gentle and soothing as ever. "Someone you lost."

"How…how d'you know?"

She laughed, a rich, throaty chuckle. "We are the Rom. We know everything. You loved him very much, no?"

Janet tried to blink back the tears that pricked her eyes every time Philip was mentioned. "Yes...well I thought I did…I mean… I still do, it's just…"

Tsura waved a hand. "You do not need to speak of it, if it pains you. But from loss, can come new life, and new love. My daughter was taken from me, and my heart aches for her every day. But in Nicu, I see her. He has helped me heal, and he has taught me how to love again. One day, you will heal too."

At her words, Janet sighed. She wanted to say something, but she kept silent for fear of appearing foolish. Instead, she continued to stroke Nicu's hair, and even started a little game of catch with him.

"He is very handsome, your young man, if rather plainspoken." A twinkle of humor in her eyes, Tsura gestured towards outside, where Luke was in conference with the men. His fear seemed to have gone entirely: he stood nearly as tall as Djordji, the sun glinting off his golden brown hair.

"What? Oh no…sorry… it's not like that between me and Luke. He's not my young man."

The gypsy said nothing, simply raising an elegant eyebrow.

"We're outlaws, we work together…and we're friends. But that's all. I'm not in love with him, and he's certainly not in love with me. I don't think I'll be able to fall in love with anyone, ever again."

Tsura merely laughed and shook her head. Wondering if the older woman was mocking her, Janet began to retort, but was interrupted by the entrance of the men.

"How are you feeling?" Luke went over to Janet, concern in his eyes. Janet tried to avoid Tsura's gaze as she answered. "Quite well, have you thought of anything?"

"We'll go into Locksley this afternoon, you and I will have to hide in the caravan someplace in case they search us. Then, Shandor and Djordji will break into the castle and track down the storehouse for the traps while you and I free Robin and the others."

"And tell me, how exactly are we going to do that?" Janet gave an exasperated groan. "I've said before, neither of us know anything about the castle prisons, and the Sheriff would notice if there were…: She was silenced by Shandor's raised eyebrow.

"If there were Roms running about his castle? But we have thought of a solution to that. Djordji and I shall pose as traders in metal, wishing to see and offering to improve upon the traps."

"And what about us? How will we free our friends?"

Djordji laughed. "Your part. You shall do it." Luke shrugged.

"We can think of something! Suppose if we got guards' uniforms…"

"I think they'd notice if one of the guards limped and was shorter than average! Besides, they'll be expecting that. Robin's used that trick countless times."

Luke had no words. She was right.

"Wait a minute." Janet's eyes widened as an idea came. "That posset…have you got a bottle of it? And Tsura, do you have a chest of clothes of some sort?"

Tsura nodded, bemused, while the brothers exchanged looks.

"Good. Now…we just need to go back to camp…unless…you don't happen to have a sleeping draught on that shelf, do you?" She pointed to the array of glass bottles.

"Janet, what on earth are you playing at?" Luke, though accustomed to her mood swings now, still found himself completely bewildered by her excitement.

She grinned, a new hope and life in her face. "You'll see."

*************************************************************************************

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand. Why can't you be the woman? You're a girl, after all!"

" Well…" She tightened a sash around Luke's waist. "First, they've seen me all before in women's clothes, they'll recognize me right away. Second, I've been here longer than you have, they know my face well by now. And third, if they did hypothetically catch me, I wouldn't be able to run away, would I?" She gave her foot a little wag as she adjusted a brown skirt, the plainest she could find in Tsura's chest. Taking her hands away, she narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized the job she had just done. "You know, it's a pity we haven't got a corset, that would really give you the right shape…"

Luke surveyed his feminine garb, and for once was glad his brother wasn't there to witness this ultimate humiliation. If might have been a bit better if Janet was not clearly biting back giggles. "You are," he groaned "the strangest girl I have ever met."

"Oh, and how many girls have you known then?" She finally was able to suppress her mirth as she leaned forward to tie a kerchief around his head.

He bit his lip in thought. "Just you really," he said as she secured the knot. "And mother."

She grinned as she straightened his kerchief, covering his hair. "Ravishing. Now, this posset has got a sleeping draught in it. Just pretend you're lost on the way to the Sherriff's rooms or something, and then leave it for the guards. If I know guards, they'll drink anything right up that resembles wine. Then you use this…" she shoved a hairpin into Luke's hand, "to pick the locks off the gang. When you're done, come outside…the guards will be dead to the world…and we'll be waiting for you with the caravan. Djordji and Shandor will have set fire to the storeroom, so we can escape in the confusion. Understand?"

"No, actually, I think you're positively insane."

"Well have you got a better idea than?"

He began to protest, but then stopped. "Er…no. But this plan is completely mad!"

"I know." She gave a rueful smile. "So mad it just might work."

As always, reviews are welcome! :-)