Hello! Thank you to all those who reviewed chapter 11, and hope you enjoy this chapter. Next chapter should be up quite soon! As its half term week =P
***
'Loki! Heel!' Alice tripped down the gangplank of the huge ship, the dog scampering ahead of her, eager to be away from the lurching vessel and onto dry ground. He stopped to investigate some dry camel dung and Alice managed to catch him off guard, grabbing him by the scruff and dragging him backwards from under the hooves of a tall horse.
Rupert had followed her down, and stood on the parched, sun hardened earth, breathing deeply. Marian stood behind him, eyes wide with wonder at the strange buildings and the exotic smells wafting past on the hot breeze.
The city of Acre sprawled out before them, streets and allies leading off in all directions from the bustling port.
'Here you are ladies.' Rupert grinned. 'At long last.' He spun on his heel, gauging direction and time, with a quick glance at the buildings and one up at the sun. 'You have about four hours before the sun even begins to set, and the King's Camp is over to the west of the city, fifteen minutes or so ride from the West Wall.'
Alice stared. 'Wait a minute- you're not coming with us?'
'No, I have some business to deal with. But I shall join you later. Anyway, you can look after yourselves.' He shot a sly glance at Marian.
***
Robin was sitting with his feet up on a crate, enjoying the last of the hot evening sun and easing his stiff muscles into more comfortable positions. The sun was a white blaze low in a tangerine sky, its sinking rays silhouetting the horizon in dark purples and reds.
The dull ache in his shoulder was no more than an underlying irritation now, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing sun. Just coming over the crest of the closest dune, he could see two figures dark against the sky. He watched as they rode closer.
As they reached the outskirts of the camp, Robin could see both riders had long hair. He squinted to see their faces, presuming they were men from the city guard, who tended to let their hair grow long and wild. They were stopped by the sentries on the outermost post, but they soon passed through.
Robin sat himself higher in his seat, curiosity getting the better of him. They were very strangely dressed…
As the man on the first horse turned, dark hair spilling over a pale cloak, Robin felt his heart jolt. Impossible. His mouth was dry, and he leant heavily on the tent pole, trying to stand up to get a better look at- No, it couldn't be!
'Marian.' He breathed.
As if she had heard his whisper, she turned back round the other way, eyes scanning the tents, and her gaze locked with his.
'Robin!' She shouted, and dismounted.
He stood, heart beating fast, as she ran towards him.
It was a dream. A wonderful, impossible dream. He was hallucinating. Maybe his wound was infected.
But as she thudded into him, nearly knocking him off-balance, and threw her arms around his neck, he knew that it was not a dream.
He felt a sob rise in his throat as he breathed in the scent of her hair.
Marian, thinking she had hurt him, stepped back. 'Sorry! Did I hurt you.'
Robin swallowed. 'No. I- Marian-' He gazed at her, his eyes telling him what his mind would not dare to believe. 'I never thought I'd see you again.'
She reached up a tentative hand to touch his cheek and smiled weakly. 'Well, I'm here now.'
'Before-,' he swallowed, unable to say or even think 'we' for the hole that marked Guy's absence. 'Before I left for the Holy Land, I thought I was not man enough for you Marian-' He faltered.
Marian looked at him closely. He had grown another inch, and his face had lost its boyish roundness. He looked tired, older, and less trusting. His eyes were not laughing. Her forehead creased.
'You're not the boy I knew Robin.'
He looked up quickly, dismay obvious in his eyes.
'You're a man now.'
He looked down, and reached across to twine his fingers with hers. 'Thank you for coming, Marian.'
***
'You are certain it was John's man?' King Richard rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyes on the short report that had been laid before him.
'Yes.'
Richard flipped the parchment over and scanned the other side. 'Close to Acre you say?'
'The palace of a wealthy man called Amil Ak'Salib, about half an hours ride from the Eastern Wall.'
'His name? I presume you know him?'
'Yes. Modred. Formerly, Sir Mordred.'
The King glanced quickly up.
'Dangerous?'
'Unfortunately, yes. Slimy piece of work, very- persuasive. Knows how to twist men's minds.' The King cleared his throat and took a sip from his goblet.
'Does he pose any immediate danger?'
'I couldn't say, your majesty.'
King Richard placed another roll of parchment over the report he had been reading and looked over to the guard who stood by the tent entrance.
'You may send Sir William in now.' He smiled.
***
Alice was the closest to biting her finger nails she had been since she was seven years old. What should she say when she met the King? Your Majesty, or your Highness? Or Sire?
In fact, the first thing she said when she stepped carefully into the King's tent was-
'Rupert!' He turned to glance at her, and a small smile tugged at his mouth.
'Your Majesty,' William turned to the two girls. 'This is Lady Marian of Knighton, and Alice Parry.'
Both girls curtseyed hurriedly and Marian shot Rupert a curious glance.
'I see you both know my friend Rupert D'Lacy.' King Richard sat back into his chair.
William and Rupert shook hands, and Marian and Alice stood awkwardly to one side.
'Rupert.' Hissed Alice, as he broke away, looking round for where the girls had gone. 'Come here.'
He sauntered over.
'Business?' Asked Marian one eyebrow raised. 'With the King?'
'I told you no lies, Marian.'
'But what you omitted to tell us was that you worked for the King!'
Rupert made hushing noises and put his back between the King and William, and the girls.
'Do you think we would have gained such safe passage, had I been heralding my relationship with his majesty? More to the point, would you have trusted me, had I claimed to be in conference with the King?'
Alice looked down at her feet, but Marian twisted her mouth. 'No, I suppose not.'
'Now, would you like me to show you to your tent?' He extended his arm to Alice, and raised his eyebrows at Marian. 'Or shall I leave you to find your way yourselves?'
***
Guy stood in the darkening courtyard, the new dark cloak and head scarf he had been given making him feel tainted with the blackness. Farraj stood across from him, his head bowed, fingers tracing the edge of a long blade.
Guy clenched his hands, letting his fingernails dig into his palms. He could hear the clop of horses hooves and looked up as two were led into the courtyard. Not Alvanor.
He felt something tug slightly at his heart. Alvanor. His short tempered, stubborn horse. He hadn't even given him a second thought.
Thinking of Alvanor made him think of Alice.
His hand flew to his throat, fingers searching for the cold chain that had been pressed into his hand all that time ago. His fingers scrabbled at thin air.
He let his hand drop, fingers brushing the scimitar that hung at his side.
He stopped himself from thinking of anything except what he had to do tonight. No distractions. He glared at the sorry looking horse that was lead across the hot stones towards him.
As he swung himself up into the saddle he turned to glance round and saw Mordred standing in the shadows, his eyes fixed on Guy.
Guy took a long moment to give him a hard glare, then, circling his horse round, he dug his heels in and galloped out of the courtyard, Farraj following.
It was a good half hour before Guy saw the first of the tents, dark against an even inkier sky.
He swallowed, throat dry and slowed his horse slightly.
Mordred's voice appeared in his head.
Scared Gisborne? Lost your nerve?
Guy suppressed a growl and pushed the horse into a canter. Confidence; if he crawled nervously into the King's camp, head down, 'shifty' etched all over his face, he would be stopped before he could get within thirty meters of the King. He was a lord, come to pay his respects.
This thought brought a wry smile to his lips. Respect. Oh yes, respect indeed.
'Who goes there?' The first guard shouted as he entered the outer ring of tents.
'Lord Robert D'Alembourd.' Shouted Guy confidently, not slowing the horse's stride. 'Come to see the King, he's expecting me.'
He did not stop to hear the guard's reply, and rode on with baited breath for the whistle of an arrow and the thud as it found it's mark. Nothing.
Not a shout or cry of warning.
Guy permitted himself a small smirk.
Idiots. That had been so, easy.
He slowed the horse to a trot and circled round the innermost ring of tents. Not much stirred as he and Farraj rode silently by, the sand muffling the horses light hooves.
He could see his goal from twenty paces.
There was a candle flickering in the King's tent. Guy squinted, but he could see no movement from behind the thin canvas.
He brought the horse in a sharp circle, halting it at the back of the tent and dismounting silently. He pulled the scarf up to cover the bottom of his face and gripped the hilt of his scimitar tightly. Guy found his hands shook slightly and clenched his teeth together.
Revenge. Revenge for your father and your mother.
Silently, Farraj following close behind, he cut a slit down the back of the tent, the fabric tearing easily. He winced as the sharp blade snagged and the noise it made seemed deafening to Guy's hyper sensitive ears.
Dragging aside one flap of the slit he had made, he slid into the tent, sword before him.
He was in an area at the back of the King's tent. In one corner stood a stand with a bowl and the other a chest. The King's dressing room.
He moved across the floor, which had been roughly strewn with rugs, both his and Farraj's boot muffled easily.
There was a noise from behind the partition.
'Hello?' Richard's voice seemed to dig into Guy's soul and he swallowed his fury.
'Guards? Is there anyone there?'
Controlling his rage, Guy padded over to where the tent opened out and stood for a second behind the canvas, which billowed slightly in a breeze. Then with a grunt of effort, he flung himself around the corner.
The blade of his scimitar met with a clang and jolt of effort, the broadsword of Richard the Lionheart. Guy tried another swipe and put the whole of his weight behind the blow, sending the King's sword swinging awkwardly away.
'Guards!' Bellowed the King, as Guy advanced again, managing to slice the tip of his scimitar into Richard's forearm. The King hissed in pain and raised his heavy broadsword to deflect another blow.
Guy could hear the shouts of alarm being raised outside the tent and cursed under his breath, trying desperately to back the King into a corner. But Richard would not be moved. He stood, feet firm, defending and matching each of Guy's blows, their collisions ringing clear in the night air.
'You majesty!' Guy's head whipped up as a group of guards burst through the main entrance to the King's tent, the scarf falling from his face.
His eyes locked with one of them for a moment, and he saw the man's eyes widen with realisation.
Robin.
He swore and threw himself away from the King, aiming a last useless blow at the King's chest.
As the guards and Robin began to advance, he ducked back the way he had come, the blood pounding in his ears, heart beating fit to burst in his chest.
Without a glance over his shoulder, he swung himself up onto the horse, turning the frightened animal in a full circle, his eyes squinting through the dark for Farraj. He cursed again. He couldn't afford to wait, or he would be caught too.
Growling, he whirled the horse round and whacked the flat of the blade, hard across it's flanks. Terrified, it reared and shot off, hooves pounding a fast rhythm on the sand. Dust billowing up behind it.
***
Alice woke to the sound of alarmed shouting. Still groggy with sleep, she rolled off the low wood bunk and stumbled to the tent flap.
As she emerged out onto the sand, the sound of thundering hooves began to grow louder. Frightened, she stepped back a pace, and a rider came hurtling past, dark cloak whirling in the wind slapping past. The flame from a brazier caught his face in the flickering light, illuminating it for an instant.
Alice staggered back against the tent, the canvas sagging beneath her weight.
Guy.
***
Mwahaha. Thanks for reading! Hope you're enjoying it =)
Dunno when the next chapter will be up - hopefully soon. But don't hold your breath. =P
V
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