Ehm... Well, don't kill me after this chapter. /hides/

Thanx for the comments!

Enjoy!
Love/ Miss Trix

Chapter 14:

Thud

It took one look to know.

One look to see the sadness turning his smile into a frown.
Two looks to hear the bitterness turning his sweet words sour.
Three looks to feel the desperation turning his tender touches rough.

All it took was one look and Djaq knew that Allan had heard every word she spoke to Will over the Black Sheep. She cringed when she replayed the conversation in her head and heard it through his ears. The pain and regret in her voice as she begged Will for forgiveness made her wince. Allan must have heard her say that he held her heart against her will, in spite of being the worse man. He must have heard her say that she loved him as well, but he would remember that she wished that she didn't.

His steps seemed heavy where he walked by her side, his jokes desperate as the words of a man who tries too hard. His smile was too wide, his laughter too loud. Djaq wanted to say that she was sorry but realised that she feared the subject too much. As long as it simply lurked under the surface it was controlled, and she was terrified about letting it loose from the shackles that bound it to the darkness. So instead she clung to him, every time the streets became sheltered she kissed and kissed him, she laughed louder and smiled wider. I am here. I am yours. There is nowhere I would rather be. And Allan seemed surprised at first, then fell into the game with lust and joy and naked despair over the last days. They chased each other through the town, he teased and challenged her and she dared him, the kisses became fiercer for every shadow and the tingle in her stomach became a roaring fire.

They shouldn't laugh yet they laughed and played like children, and they ran because they were afraid of the intimacy of stillness. Djaq felt flushed and giddy like a young girl, eagerly lost in a parody of innocence that she couldn't remember ever owning. The shadows striped the streets and divided them between the pretence of light and the honesty of darkness, in a world where you hid in the shade to be free and thus could never be free.

Finally he sneaked up on her, pushed his arm around her waist and pulled closer. She could feel his chest against her back and his lips damp against her ear as they caught their breaths, hearts still beating fast as she leaned into his embrace.

"There were some children playing," Allan mumbled against her neck, his voice sounding distant as if it came from far away. "The thing is-- No one wanted to play Allan, you know? No one wants to be Allan. I don't even want to be Allan mind you. No one wants to love Allan either--"

Djaq felt her breath catch in her throat and found it impossible to respond. It was futile to give him solace from the truth since he was too good a liar himself to be fooled, and there was no way she could honestly tell him that she would love him by choice alone.

"The heart chose for me," she finally answered. "Sometimes the heart is wiser."

"Not being funny but the heart is bloody stupid," Allan grinned. "It's okay Djaqie. I'm a lucky sod that your heart messed up--" She could hear from the way he breathed that there was more he wanted to say, yet he kept silent and started moving towards The Black Sheep instead. They crossed the magic border where the shadows of the narrow alley turned into the light of open space and moved apart as if the sun burned them. As they turned around a corner they saw horses and guards outside the Black Sheep Arms and they stopped, pushing up towards the wall.

"I do not like this," Djaq shook her head. "Something is wrong. That is Guy's horse, but why would he be here with all his men?"

"Perhaps they stopped for afternoon tea," Allan grinned. "Look, you stay back - I'll go in first and deal with sir grumpy, alright?"

"I am not sure. Perhaps we should find Little John and Will." There was something about the way the guards stood, not leaning comfortably but rather at strict attention. Guarding. Why would they be guarding here?

"Nah, don't worry," Allan responded with a flippant shrug. "Guy isn't all that bad really, once you get past all that leather."

Djaq sighed at Allan's cocky grin and watched him prance across the street with the self-assured walk of a man that knows how to put on a show. She didn't like this, her stomach told her to worry and she knew her stomach to be wiser than her heart. But Allan wouldn't listen to her stomach any more than he listened to reason. Se waited until he disappeared through the door, then took a detour around the house and made herself comfortable behind the sheets on the back yard. The voices inside were hushed but she could hear them, and through the door she caught glimpses of people like random pieces of a puzzle. Then she realised that there were guards on the second floor as well and the worry in her stomach turned into ice cold terror.

----

It would have been a lie to say that Allan walked into The Black Sheep with the same confidence that he displayed, and when he stepped over the threshold his anxiety flipped over to fear. The room was silent and tense, the guests standing by the walls leaving the middle of the room empty like an arena where Sir Guy rose like the grim reaper. The image made Allan feel a bit uncomfortable so he took a deep breath and told himself that it was only Guy, the man barked more than he bit in Allan's experience.

But then again, when he actually bit you weren't likely to get out of it with your head still attached to your body.

"Guy! What are you doing 'ere?" Allan grinned nervously and put his hands to his sides. "Marian is still out there-- Right? You haven't found her or whatever?"

"You tell me," Guy scoffed and paced over the hard floor of the ale house. His footsteps echoed in the tense silence as if this room was hollow and lay barren rather than filled with people. They seemed to hold their breaths and Allan swallowed hard wondering what they knew that he didn't. The leather and metal in Guy's clothes creaked and clenched when he moved over to Allan and pulled out something from his pocket. Allan gave Guy a bewildered look, an image of picture perfect well-rehearsed innocence, and moved his eyes down from his master's cocked eyebrow to the outstretched hand. Then his heart sunk. There was an outlaw tag that hung dead and lonely in Guy's hand.

"Who!?" Allan exclaimed as he watched the object paralyzed and hypnotized by the soft rocking movement. A million thoughts ripped and pulled his attention, shuffled it from side to side like a rowing boat on a storming ocean. Who? Why? How? And was he, Allan, in trouble as well? "I mean--" he swallowed and gave Guy a cocky grin. "Look, I don't know them all alright? They're all just bunch of peasants really."

Guy gave out a snorting laughter and clenched his hand around the cord that the tag dangled from, his movements forced and tense from restrained anger. "Really?" he sneered.

"Yes, really!" Allan swallowed again. Of all the sticky situations that he had been in through his life this was the kind that he hated the most. It was the kind where he didn't have a clue about his own crime. Sure, he didn't lack reasons for Guy to rage against him, but witch one was it that made these shadows of fury dance over Guy's features? Breathe in, breathe out, be calm-- everyone will believe you to be guilty if you look it. "Listen," he continued. "Tell me what he looked like right? And maybe I can help?"

"Help?" Guy's features were transformed into a bitter smile. "You want tohelp now do you?"

"Yeah! Sure! Guy, I'm you man now!" He gave the room a nervous scan, letting his eyes dart from face to face. Most of them seemed severe but fascinated, like the faces on the people the day he was hanged. Was this a similar crowd? One that watched a disaster with the indifferent eyes of an observer? He frowned and let his eyes rest a while on Jess Littlelamb. She shook her head at him, and he wished he could ask her why she seemed so compassionate and slightly condemning. What have you done Allan-a-Dale?

Yes, whathad he done?!

Guy's smile became sour and disgusted as he watched Allan. Then he gave the tag to a guard, turned around and paced over to the other side of the room.

"Shackle him," he ordered a guard and Allan felt his heart fasten and a pair of hands grabbed his and twisted them behind his back.

"What? Guy!? What!?" The lump in his throat grew and he searched the room in panic for some support. There were some hushed arguments passing between the guests, faces confused and others that had the all-knowing air of a person who had too much to drink and held all the answers in the world. What did he do? Whose side are we on anyway? Allan filled in the words from the lips that moved, realised that they were watching him but refused to meet his puzzled gaze. "What have I done!? Guy!?" His voice broke off as he met Guy's stare and saw nothing but hate, ice cold and beyond sanity and reason. The pieces of this puzzle didn't fit, but he had a feeling the final picture would be one of gallows and the limp body of Allan-a-Dale.

Guy reached out his hand to one of the guards gave him a sack. His eyes didn't dart from Allan's face even as he grabbed the sack, and neither did they yield when he turned out the content on the floor. Mask. Cloak. The Nightwatchman's gear seemed so very pathetic where it lay discarded on the floor. Allan swallowed as he realised that this was another piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit, but it certainly wasn't looking promising.

"These are your clothes," Guy finally scoffed. "This is your tag. The charade is over, yet you choose to keep the pretence up?! You are worse than a woman!"

"My clothes?!" Allan exclaimed. "No! Guy! Look, you don't understand! They kicked me out! I'm not the Nightwatchman, I'm not with Robin! I'm not!" Allan's heart pounded hard in his chest. Somewhere under the panic and confusion a little voice laughed bitterly. Such irony that a man of so many crimes was destined to fall from one he didn't commit! "Listen, Guy, you 'ave seen me with the Nightwatchman, it can't be me! The day he got stabbed! I was there, remember!?"

"I would not remember a lowlife nobody," Guy sneered. "And even if I did it would mean nothing! Perhaps he died and you decided to carry on his legacy. These things were found in your room together with papers proving that you have given money to Robin Hood."

"What papers! I can't even write! Look Guy I got enemies! We both do and now they turn us against each other. I have been framed! Honestly!"

"Do you deny that you keep registers over your incomes and expenses? You are a greedy man - I would not have managed to buy you from Robin otherwise. Now it seems that was a poor purchase--"

"What? No—" Allan swallowed. This was wrong, so very wrong! "Nah, I mean I do keep 'em, but that is no crime is it?"

"Not in itself, no," Guy smirked bitterly and walked over to Allan with the papers clutched in his hand. "But when your greatest expense is arobin then that is indeed a crime." Allan felt Sir Guy's saliva stain his face as he talked, and the unpleasant scent of leather and sweat that always accompanied Guy lingered in the air. The ale house seemed thick with expectation from all the fascinated observers as Allan stared at the paper. He did keep registers but this wasn't it.

"Wha—" he stammered. "Nah you got it all wrong! It's not a robin, it's just a bird!" He struggled to find a plausible explanation to the rows of painted birdlike figures. 'I didn't do it' never seemed to work, and he had a gut feeling that the fact that it was true for once didn't make much difference. "It's-- Look I'm a lonely man Giz, you know what it's like! A little coin a little company. The birds, that's just women Guy, really, it is nothing but expensive lasses that!"

Guy stared at him for a while then laughed, amused but not in any friendly way. "You're telling me you spend enough money to feed two or three big families on cheap women?!"

"What can I say," Allan shrugged and ignored the nervous tremble in his voice. "I 'ave a problem— Needs and urges. Gives a man a lot of enemies though, some of there gals got husbands and everything!"

"So," Guy smirked sarcastically. "You spend all your money on women and now a jealous husband has gone through with some elaborate scheme to bring you down, kidnapping a noble woman and planting evidence in your room?"

"Well," Allan hesitated, he may be desperate for any explanation but this one seemed rather too far fetched to fool anyone with. "It could have happened like that!" he shrugged. "How should I know!? Look, I didn't do it! I'm loyal to you Guy! Honestly!"

"Did you say the same to Robin when I bought you?" Guy scoffed, then inhaled deeply through his nose and let out a weary sigh. "You will have one chance to live," he spat. "One chance to maybe live to see a fair trial."

Allan gave out a snorting laughter by the notion of a fair trial in Nottingham, but quickly swallowed his scorn as Guy took a firm grip around his collar and gave his face a punch that burned and made him bite down over his tongue. Blood filled his mouth as Guy tightened the grip around his collar and looked him firmly in the eyes.

"Listen to me," he hissed through clenched teeth. "You may be able to betray and humiliate a pansy like Robin Hood and get away with it, but I am no peace loving tree-hugger. We found Lady Marian's bloody clothes in your room and in my book that makes you the lowest most despicable of men."

"You found her clothes? But—Look! I'm—Listen to me! I can explain!"

"Shut up or loose your tongue, trash!" Guy yelled, and Allan shut his eyes to avoid another rain of spit to hit them. "You don't have the brain or guts to do this on your own. This is Robin Hood's work! Therefore I will make a statement tomorrow, by the gallows, that if I do not know the exact location of Lady Marian by dusk then you will not only be hanged. I will personally chop you up while you still breathe and feed your flesh to the birds!!!"

"Look I'm not being funny but—"

"Good," Guy sneered. "I'm not known for my humour." He loosened the grip around Allan's collar, then gave him a heavy kick in his stomach that pushed the breath from Allan's lunges and made him fall down on his knees. The world seemed to be spinning and he saw little stars dance in front of his eyes as he gasped for air. Guy's voice came from far away when he continued, sounded detached and indifferent. "That is your one chance" he said. "One chance for a possibility to see a trial. One faint chance to live. I suggest you take it, or pray that someone loves you enough to save you a-Dale. Though I wouldn't hold my breath on that if I were you."

Allan struggled to his feet and looked around the room in desperation. They all seemed severe yet intrigued and a bit sad that the show appeared to be over. Don't miss the exciting sequel tomorrow by the gallows, Allan mumbled under his breath, Bring your wife and kids.

"Take him," Guy ordered his guards and nodded in Allan's general direction. "Oh, and burn this tainted place."

"What!" Jess Littlelamb's voice rose over the tense silence in the room. "No! I have done nothing but rent this man a room! The Black Sheep is a respectable place! Please, sir! Have mercy! This is all I have!"

"You have aided him in your ignorance and lack of control. You have even washed the bloody sheets for him! Be quiet wench or I will have you hanged!"

"But you cannot burn a house in the middle of the town!" Jess pleaded. "You may burn half the town. Sir, be reasonable! This is all I have!"

"Then maybe you should have thought about that before you aided this sorry excuse for a man," Guy scoffed and walked towards the door. "Burn it!"

---

That night the people in Nottingham fought a fire that ate five houses and killed four people who had nothing at all to do with this sordid story. In the ranks of the sooty towns people rebellion was born, hate grew and blossomed as the smoke lay thick over the streets and hugged every house. They sweated and hated. They coughed and hated. They dug barriers and wasted water and hated more than they had ever hated before. When the day came the streets were thick with upset, hating people, raging like a hurricane under the surface, simply waiting for a chance to break through. There were more clenched fists than ever in the group of people that stood and watched Guy and the sheriff drag out Allan to the gallows. They listened to his crimes yet in that moment fate made him a symbol and a martyr simply for being the victim of everyone's most hated enemies. The air in Nottingham still smelled of smoke and the town still sizzled. Even though the fire was put out, the people burned with hate and fury for the men that killed their peers and razed their houses. The people watched. And they hated.

---

Djaq's first reaction the evening before had been to run into The Black Sheep, kill Guy, kill every guard, anything to get Allan out from there. But her mind spoke louder than her heart and froze her to the ground, forcing her to follow the scene bewildered and desperate yet unable to do anything to stop it. She heard Allan's stumbling excuses, the paper-thin story that he put together instead of simply telling the truth, and in that moment she hated him. She hated him for being such an impossible man to love, for begging Guy to trust him, swearing his loyalties to a monster. She wished he could have at least tried to be honest, stand up for what he believed in for once, and she hated him for lying time and time again. But most of all she hated him for threatening to die away from her. She hated him for being shackled and punched, hated him for being in danger in spite of doing everything to save his own skin. It was irrational, so she hated him from making her irrational as well.

Then the hate faded and she loved him instead. Pure, untainted, simple love that made her cry because it seemed futile and doomed to fail. She cried when she helped the people to put out the fire, and even more when she made a soothing balm for the burns and declared a pale child dead from the toxic fumes. She turned away from the mother cradling her unmoving daughter, coughed from the smoke and told herself that it was the fire that made her eyes water and her mind feel dulled and slow. It took some time before she realised that the fire was put out and she had Will and Little John by her side, and she forced herself to wake up and think. Nottingham was dark but a faint morning light had begun to reveal the extent of the damage. The Black Sheep and its neighbourhood were only black reeking skeletons where people walked around, randomly poking trough the ash as if there were hidden treasures under the layers of sooth. It was such a sad scene, the pitiful greed in these poor people.

"We need to get these people shelter," Little John grumbled. He was covered in sooth and his face was striped by the water that he splashed in it, painting black rivers that brought ash from the curly hair down to the cleansed face.

"I have counted to 27 people homeless," Will added. He sounded sad, but there was something more in his voice that surprised Djaq when she identified it. Shame, she realised, guilt and regret. But why? "3 people dead," Will continued his count. "It is good considering."

"Four," Djaq corrected him. "At least two more people missing. And did you count Allan, Will?"

"Allan is not missing," Will mumbled.

"No but he is homeless."

"He is dead," Will said a bit more forceful. "It is time to care for the living, Djaq."

"He is not dead!" Djaq exclaimed and gave Will a small shuffle. "We need to go to the gallows, we need to help him!"

"Djaq! There is nothing we can do!" Will sounded agitated and annoyed when he spoke. "He is as good as dead. These people need us!"

"You may do as you like," Djaq sobbed, her voice soft but trembling from restrained emotion. "I will go to the gallows."

"We go to the gallows," Little John stated, and put an end to the discussion in his usual manner.

"Thank you," Djaq responded, and gave Little Johna grateful smile. He didn't like this, yet he chose her side with the loyalty of a father looking after his children. She sighed and shook her head. "I do not understand," she said as she watched the ruins that surrounded them. "How did this happen?!"

She felt Will's hand on her shoulder and shrugged it off. She did not want his touch, not now. These days were so stressful, her life was in a mess and everything seemed to be in pieces. Marian may be dead. If Marian was dead then Robin would be lost. If Robin was lost then Much would follow him with the same loyalty as always. Now houses were burned. And Allan may be doomed, only days after she realised that she loved him.

"Someone set him up," she continued with a frown. "Guy said there were books, accounts."

"So? He kept count over his blood money," Will scoffed.

"No, you do not understand Will! Allan could count his own fingers and get it fairly right, give or take one or two fingers, but he couldn't put two and two together if his life depended on it. Keeping accounts was beyond him, I helped him put those together! Me and Jess! There was no symbol looking like a bird, I would have known. Jess only helped him update it, she never changed anything."

Will remained silent and stared at her with wide eyes, and somewhere under the surface there was a new fear turning into a terrible insight gripping Djaq's heart. She felt sick and cold to the bones, her head woozy and aching by the stress and smoke.

"Will," she gasped. "Will, what have you done? Will!! All these people, all these—And Allan! Allan used to be your friend, I do not understand. Why?! Will, why?"

"Djaq!" Will grabbed her hand and took a step closer. "I didn't mean this to happen! You must know that! I really didn't, I'm sorry."

Djaq stared at him and made her hand limp in his. This was Will Scarlet. The nicest most sensitive man she had ever known. A good man. She knew this was an honest mistake, yet the irony of it all was that Will condemned mistakes like this in Allan. He always failed to see that the consequences of a crime could be bigger that the crime, failed to forgive and understand. Did he understand now? Did he feel the domino effect that so often made Allan fall further that he imagined? Did he realise that a small mistake could have dire effects that weren't intended? Could he see, finally, that bad actions didn't necessarily make you a bad man?

She swallowed and took a deep breath. "We will not talk of this now," she decided. "I forgive you the day that you forgive Allan. Do you understand him, Will? Now that you have made mistakes yourself, I beg you—grow from the experience."

Will flinched and took his hand away from her, then he frowned and seemed to think this over.

"I understand him a little," he admitted reluctantly. "I still hate him Djaq. I still love him too. That is what makes it so hard to forgive him."

She nodded at him with a crooked smile, then went over to Little John and gave him a tug. It was morning and they needed to freshen up before the meeting, a little water, a little food. The town seemed strange and tense around them, angry in the smoke that lay like a fog around the houses. Djaq blinked away a tear as they went and the sooth from her lashes stung her eyes. The sky was grey over the smoke and a light morning drizzle washed the worst of the ash from their skin.

Djaq thought her heart never had felt heavier to carry.

---

Here he stood. The people watched in rage but it had struck Allan that they didn't rage against him. It was afternoon and his feet hurt from the hours up on the gallows. He had been punched and threatened and humiliated, and it all hurt ten times as much because he saw Djaq flinch and wince and cry out. Her voice was drowned by the roaring from the people, and there was Will and Little John right behind her. At some point Will motioned that he was sorry and Allan felt a bit surprised that he didn't react more fiercely to the sudden insight that it was Will that framed him. It made sense. Not because Allan was a traitor, he was a trickster and as such he had to read people well. He knew that Will resented him because they both loved the same woman yet Allan won her heart. He could relate to that. He gave Will a bitter smile, shrugged and then watched Djaq again. She seemed tired and upset, sooty even though she had washed up. For every punch against him she grew even tenser and suddenly there was a determination in her face. He frowned. What do you think Djaq? What would he have thought in her situation?

And then he knew. In one painfully clear moment he knew that she would try to save him. It would destroy everything. She would be caught, Will would be caught, Little John would fight like an animal and then he would get caught as well. Eventually Guy would find Marian's corpse and the poor nuns would take the blame as well. Yet what choice did Djaq have? Stand by and watch him die? He could not to it, and he had no one else to compare to than himself - it was the only way of acting that he knew and understood.

Allan swallowed and looked around, scanned the faces of the guards and wiggled his body slightly. They didn't hold him very hard. He cocked his face to the sky and watched the slowly moving grey quilt that hid the sun. It didn't become him to be a hero, yet love makes fools of us all. With a sigh he did a quick turn before he changed his mind, made himself free from the guard that held him and ran towards a soldier he knew as Thomas Marly - a keen newbie who was skilled where most of the guards were lazy. He smiled when the sword sunk into the soft flesh in his side, then screamed by the pain and fell down on his knees. The wood of the gallows seemed blurry and there was blood staining them. My blood, he thought, and gasped for air. He heard a woman cry and scream from far away, somewhere in the crowd. My woman, he thought, and then there was a thud as something hit his head and everything went black.

---

The people of Nottingham watched in rage as their unlikely martyr fell. And then the town finally exploded.