Chapter 20: The Tipping Point

Outlaw's Camp

When Robin returned he found his gang in high spirits, sorting through the collection of coins, jewellery and food they had managed to take from the Locksley gathering. Allan was playing his lute and the others sat around the fire, talking and laughing as if their ambush hadn't almost been a complete disaster.

With scant acknowledgement to his gang, Robin took a seat on his bunk, keeping a deliberate distance from the revelry. After a few moments, Djaq came over to him and silently examined the gash in his arm. It was only a graze; the blood already dry against his skin and it caused him no pain. The sleeve of his doublet had been the real victim, and after Djaq had cleaned the wound Robin removed the garment entirely. Luckily his long undershirt only had a tear and could still be worn, so Robin rooted around in his cubbyhole until he found his familiar hooded leather tunic and pulled it on forcefully. It was old and was wearing through in places, but it reminded Robin of the old days, before he was plagued by fears and had witnessed his own decline into a man of inaction.

It gave him a much-needed confidence, as he tried to build himself up to start a conversation he knew would be exceedingly difficult. But it wasn't long before his mood was noticed.

"Why so glum, Robin?" Carter called from his seat by the fire, where he was examining a collection of rings. "We made a pretty good haul today."

Robin took a few moments to answer, and his silence had the desired effect – Allan stopped his mindless strumming and before long he had everyone's attention.

"I should ask why everyone is so happy with themselves," Robin spoke up evenly. "We could have all died today."

Allan shrugged and seemed supremely unconcerned. "But we didn't," he pointed out. "So Giz was smarter than we gave him credit for," he shrugged. "It all turned out alright."

"We got lucky." Robin wasn't prepared to be as flippant as Allan.

"Robin," Much spoke up somewhat nervously. "You never had a problem relying on luck in the past."

"Things are different now," Robin retorted, and couldn't stop his gaze from falling on Marian. Her brow was furrowed in confusion but she remained silent. "We should have known about those guards in the Manor," he added.

Eve raised her chin at him. "No one knew about that," she said snippily. "I gave you all the information I could."

Robin sighed – this was not going well. "I'm not blaming you Eve," he said, trying to soften his tone.

"I agree with Robin," Little John spoke up in his defence, and Robin was grateful. "We should have checked inside."

"So we will next time," said Will evenly. "We learn from every battle – you taught us that, Robin."

Robin nodded, he could not argue with his own teachings. "But we still have to be more careful."

A light, clear laugh cut through the camp, and Robin turned his attention back to Marian. "It seems strange to hear you preaching caution, Robin," she said with a pearly laugh. "It is hardly your forte."

"It's not strange to hear you dismissing it, Marian," he responded, unable to keep the accusation out of his voice.

Marian's grin faded, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat by the fire. "What do you mean by that?" she asked quietly.

Robin took a deep breath to calm himself. What he was about to say was sure to anger her, and he regretted starting with poorly chosen words. "I mean that I have given the matter a great deal of thought," he began calmly. "And I believe that it would be better if you didn't come on the raids anymore." He couldn't look her in the eyes as he spoke, and the silence that followed was weighty. When forced himself to look up, Marian's face was impassive.

"Why?" she asked, somewhat coolly. "It's not my fault Gisborne was ready for us."

"No," Robin said evenly. "But you almost got the both of us killed." She looked at him incredulously, and for a moment Robin wondered whether it would have been better to approach the matter when they were alone, but decided against it. It was better to do it out in the open, so everyone was aware.

"I needed you to watch my back," he continued when it was clear she did not understand. "But you saw Gisborne and charged over to confront him."

"I was helping Will," she protested.

"You weren't thinking, or watching," Robin responded angrily. "If you had been you would have seen Little John there. Where he was supposed to be. It's important to be adaptable in battle, but it's even more important to stay at your post."

"I know how to fight, Robin," she protested, looking offended. "I don't need to be schooled by you."

"You're a good fighter, Marian," he agreed. "Of course you are. But I'm afraid you're not a very good soldier."

"You mean I don't follow your every order, you mean?" she countered, standing up and folding her arms. Robin was reminded of a similar argument when she'd first lived in the camp. He had thought they had resolved those issues long ago, but he had been blind, too willing to overlook old problems because of her miraculous survival.

"You told me things had changed Robin," she continued, and there was a note of hurt in her tone. "I thought that everyone was meant to have their say."

Robin sighed – she simply didn't comprehend the nature of war. "That's fine for here at the camp," he answered, rising to his feet. "For planning. But in the heat of battle there has to be a place for everyone, and a single point of command."

"Fine," Marian responded somewhat petulantly. "I accept my error. From now on I will follow your lead in battle."

"The trouble is, Marian, I don't think you can," he told her. "And I can't fight properly and watch you every second. When you ran off, I had to follow you, and that guard got the jump on me," he explained. "I almost didn't get there in time to save you from the other one."

"I had it under control," Marian protested. "And if you can't concentrate, Robin, maybe you're the one who shouldn't be fighting."

"Don't be ridiculous," Robin spluttered, shocked.

"How is it any more ridiculous than what you're saying?" she answered, her voice rising in pitch. "What do you propose I do, just sit around here at the camp? Do some embroidery?" she practically spat the words at him.

"Of course not," Robin huffed in frustration. "There's plenty you can do – reconnaissance, food drops. Look at Eve," he gestured to the woman at Much's side. "She does invaluable work, and doesn't insist on fighting."

"Eve doesn't know how to fight," Marian shot back. "If she did I'm sure she wouldn't be content to stay behind."

Eve opened her mouth as if to speak, but Much took her hand and shook his head slightly. Marian had turned to her, probably expecting support, and sighed heavily when none was forthcoming.

"Does no one else have an opinion?" she addressed the gang, before turning back to Robin in defiance. "Perhaps we should put my fate to a vote," she said sarcastically.

But the other members of the gang were silent, as both Robin and Marian looked to them for comment. However, they were met with gazes cast aside, uncomfortable shifting in seats and a deafening, unhelpful silence.

"I see," Marian said as her gaze passed over the other members of the gang, clearly hurt by their inaction. Even Tuck, her erstwhile champion, said nothing, although he was the only one not to turn away from her silent plea.

"Sometimes I think you all forget that this was my cause before it was any of yours," she accused them, her voice wavering. "I was helping the people of Nottingham while you were a dead man here in the forest," he addressed Little John. "While you were getting caught stealing flour," she turned to Will. "While you were poaching deer and feeding no one but yourself," she told Allan. "And you," she turned to Robin. "While you were off on some damn foolish crusade without a thought for the people you're trying so hard to protect now."

This angered Robin – it was unfair of her to bring that up when she knew how ashamed he was of it - to use his regret against him. "I am trying to protect them," he said back, his ire rising. "I'm trying to protect you, too."

"Don't you dare try to tell me that this is for my own good," Marian advanced a few paces towards him, a mix of anger and desperation. "Don't you dare tell me how I should be fighting, Robin, I won't do it, I won't sit here and do nothing because you're acting like a scared, selfish child!"

"Dammit, Marian, you're my wife," he practically shouted, his temper overloaded by her accusations. "You should obey when I ask something of you."

He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth, and Marian was visibly struck. He sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. "I did not mean that."

"You can't do that, Robin," she spat back at him, her lower lip quivering with anger and her fists clenched. "You can't say anything you like and then take it back." She took another step towards him accusingly. "Because you would not say such things unless there was a part of you meant them."

And with that parting blow she stalked off into the forest. Robin felt his face flush and he looked around the camp for support, but instead found the rest of the gang trying to busy themselves and unwilling to meet his eyes.

All except Eve, who gave him a hard look.

"What are you staring at?" he snarled at her before following Marian into the forest.

Marian had never been so angry with him – not when he had left for the Holy Land, not when he had returned, been captured and flippant about it, not even when they had argued about her engagement to Guy. She stalked through the woods angrily, before stopping to lean against a tree and will the tears from her eyes.

Obey. He had said it. It hadn't been an offhand comment about her actions as the Nightwatchman, nor a hurtful jibe about embroidery or cooking, or a pleading with her not to go back to the Castle and resume her act as spy. It was as she had always feared – that he saw her as his wife and therefore his subordinate, his lesser, his servant.

And not only that, he had done it in front of the entire gang, humiliated her beyond belief. Her discontent had been brewing for some time, and had risen to the fore. She was sick of acquiescing, sick of arguing and compromising and trying not to upset anyone. She had not survived a sword in the belly to sit idly by while others fought in her cause. And there was nothing Robin could do or say that would convince her otherwise. And yet, she could not ignore the love she had for him that weakened her resolve. She wanted to relieve his suffering and assuage his fears, and he had given her the opportunity to do it. But at what cost to herself?

She wasn't surprised when Robin appeared nearby. Marian had sufficiently calmed herself down and turned around, pressing her back against the trunk of the tree and appraising Robin thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry, Marian," he told her softly. "This wasn't what I wanted."

"But it is what you should have expected," she responded, keeping her tone even. "Surely you did not think I would agree, no matter how you approached it."

"I was hoping you would understand why I am asking it of you," he said.

"Well I don't," Marian looked at her feet.

"It's not wholly selfish," Robin told her, and she looked back up at him sceptically. "I know that is hard to believe," he continued. "When you…died," he looked away and seemed to have trouble forming the words. "You told me to keep fighting, Marian. But I couldn't – there was nothing for me in this world without you." Robin swallowed heavily, and finally looked her in the eye. "And if I were to lose you again…I would not be able to bear it." He blinked a few times, his eyes shining with unshed tears – bright in the moonlight which filtered between the trees overhead. "And I would not be able to lead my gang, to help my people – to be who I need to be. So you see it is not just your life or mine that I am thinking of. It's everyone."

She was not unmoved by his words, but they had also confirmed the fears she had been concealing since her return. "You can't burden me with that, Robin," she said with an aching heart. "You can't make me the sole reason for your happiness, it isn't fair."

"I know," he said, crossing the distance between them. "But Marian," he continued, cupping her face in his hands. "Do you realise how hard it is for me, how much it hurts – knowing that you don't need me, when I need you so utterly?"

There was such pain in his eyes and voice that she did not doubt his words. She did not wish to cause him pain, but all she had to give was honesty. "I did need you once," she practically whisperd. "You were my entire world, Robin, and I would have done anything you asked. But then you left –you forced me not to need you. I learnt that not needing anyone was the only way to survive."

She took a deep breath, and placed her hands on his chest in an entreaty. "I can't promise you that no harm will ever come to me," she told him softly. "It's a chance we have to take – that is worth taking."

He dropped his hands from her face and turned away, exhaling impatiently. Clearly it was not the answer he had wanted, and since assurance had not worked, she tried logic.

"Think about how I've felt all the times I thought you were dead, or about to die," she pleaded, trying to make him see sense. "I remember you struck in the castle dungeons ready to hang, I remember you dangling over a pit of snakes and fighting for your life over boiling tar. Do you think that was easy for me?" she asked, her voice breaking. "I could hardly bear it; I was so worried about losing you. But I would never try to use that to make you stop fighting."

Robin was still turned away from her, his head bowed, and she could only hope that her words were sinking in.

"If you love me," she added. "You will not ask this of me,"

She saw Robin's shoulders tense, and he turned back around, his expression full of anger and frustration. "Oh, for God's sake, Marian, stop it," he spat out.

"Stop what?"

"Stop holding your love to ransom," he responded angrily. "It's always, If I love you, I'll spare Allan's life, if I love you, I'll let you go back to the castle. If I love you, I'll let you put your life in danger time and time again." He shook his head in disbelief. "Make up your mind Marian, because I do love you," he added emphatically. "And either you love me, or you don't."

Marian suddenly felt very tired and took a moment before responding. "I do love you, Robin," she told him in a much calmer tone of voice. "I do. We can't choose who we love," she added with resignation.

"You've always said that everything is a choice," he challenged.

Marian sighed. "Everything we do is a choice," she clarified. "Not everything we feel."

"Always semantics with you." Robin took a few moments to digest her meaning. "Are you saying that if you did have a choice…you wouldn't choose me…you wouldn't love me?" His voice faltered slightly, but his gaze was firm.

Marian thought back to all of their arguments, her complete and utter heartbreak the first time he had left, the loneliness and sorrow which had forced her to become cold and closed-off, unwilling to feel such hurt again. To the relief mixed with bitter anger on his return, the treachery of her own heart as she had fallen for him again, the way he could always make her lose careful control over herself. She thought of utter joys tempered with painful words, and the knowledge that in loving him, she had allowed him to hurt her. It was loving him that had brought them to this.

Marian took another deep breath. "Yes," she replied, meeting his gaze with firm resolve. "That is what I mean."

He looked taken aback, and stared at her for several moments before blinking rapidly and looking away.

"Robin I don't want to hurt you," she said softly, although she had known her words would do so. "But I'm not sure if I can do this anymore."

"What's that," he asked quietly, eyes on the trees to their left. She had clearly wounded him deeply, but she knew she had to press on.

"Us," she replied. "Trying to be both your wife and a member of your gang – it's not working. You've made it clear that I can't be both. I can either take orders from you, or share my life with you, the choice is yours."

He furrowed his brow and said nothing. It was clear he did not understand.

"You can ask anything of me, Robin," she continued for clarification. "You can order me to stay at camp, to never put myself in danger, and I will…obey." She took another deep breath, a lump forming in her throat as she forced herself on. "But only as a soldier following orders from their Captain," she added. "If you do that…we couldn't be together. I can't…be with you if you've forced me to give up everything else that is important to me."

Robin was silent for several long moments, then looked back at her, his expression hard. "An ultimatum, then," he said coldly. "How out of character, Marian."

Marian held his gaze and felt hot tears prickle behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Robin turned away from her and leaned with both hands against a nearby tree, sighing deeply. She studied his back, rigid and unyielding, ignored his jibe and waited for his answer.

"So I would lose your heart," he said finally, his back still to her. "But you would be safe." Robin turned around, his face impassive. He put his hands on his hips in his familiar defensive pose, and stared at her resolutely. "I think I could live with that."

It took a few moments for his meaning to penetrate. Marian searched his face for any hint of jest, but he was more serious than perhaps she had ever seen him.

"Do you understand what I mean, Robin," she asked, wanting to make sure. Her threat was not empty, but she hadn't actually expected him to make such a choice. "I couldn't be your wife – except in name."

A muscle in his cheek twitched noticeably; cracks appearing around his stern countenance. Hesitatingly, he breached the distance between them and took her into his arms. "I know what you mean," he whispered against her hair. "All I care about is your life – I can't lose you again."

She drew back slightly and looked up at him. "But you will lose me," she told him. "In all the ways that count."

Robin gave her a sad sort of smile and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering for a few more moments than was necessary. Then he released her and stalked away into the forest without so much as a backwards glance.

When he didn't return to the camp that night, no one seemed too perturbed. Perhaps they thought Robin just needed time to cool off, but she knew better. There was a finality to his absence, and she knew that neither of them were willing to change their minds.

Marian waited until everyone had gone to sleep in order to avoid an awkward situation – she could not share a bunk with Robin after such an argument. In fact she wasn't sure if she ever wanted to be close to him again. And yet her heart ached for him, and she cursed its traitorous longing as their argument ran over and over in her mind. It was well after midnight when she finally crawled into their empty bunk, drawing the blankets tight around her to try and ward off the chill. Despite herself, she felt cold without him, realising that she had become accustomed to his warm presence at her back and his arm around her waist.

For the first time since returning to Sherwood, she felt truly lonely.

No one had noticed her sad demeanour, or linked it to Robin's absence except Much, who had been unable to rest until he was sure Marian had retired for the night. The others probably assumed that Robin and Marian were simply in the middle of one of their tiffs, and that it would all work itself out, as they had always done in the past. But Much knew that this time was different – it was serious. They had spoken to each other as no husband and wife ever should, and Much wasn't sure how they could be reconciled.

He lay awake in case Marian needed him, ready to spring into action should she wish to unburden her heart. But all he heard were small, muffled sobs from the bunk below, that continued long into the night.

Locksley

A new day was dawning, and for the first time in a long while, Guy welcomed the rising sun. Rather than carrying the sting of bitter regret and resignation that he would have to face another day, the sunrise now glistened with opportunity and promise.

Anders approached with three of Guy's personal guard, his best and most trusted men. Each of them held the reigns of several large hounds and Guy appraised them.

"Here they are, Sir Guy," Anders said, pride evident on his face. "I acquired the very best."

"Good," Guy nodded approvingly and began to walk to the edge of Sherwood Forest, beckoning them to follow him. He stopped at the treeline, realising that he didn't know the way that Hood and his gang had fled the previous day. Hood's men had all concealed their faces, but Guy had been able to recognise the near-giant with whom he had fought and who had knocked him into unconsciousness. It had meant that he hadn't seen their escape.

Anders appeared at his side. "I believe they went that way, my Lord," he said deferentially, and pointed to the north east. "We should be thankful it didn't rain last night," he added. "The hounds should still be able to pick up the scent."

"Well get on with it then," Guy snapped and handed him the sleeve they had retrieved from Hood's doublet.

Anders nodded and was seemingly unconcerned with Guy's brusque manner, which was one of the reasons he had stayed so long in his employ. He held the sleeve to the snout of each of the hounds, allowing them to familiarise themselves with the scent. Then they stood back while the hounds sniffed the forest floor and nearby trees, searching for its counterpart. It only took a few minutes for them to find the path, tugging their handlers behind them, and Guy followed with a mixture of relief and anticipation.

He had to show Prince John that he was worthy of the Sheriff's position, to give him a reason to usurp Vaisey. Guy had to demonstrate his control over the shire, and be granted official power over it in return. This was the best way he could think of not only to prove his loyalty, but his worth.

He would capture Robin Hood himself.