"I'm sorry, Lord Locksley. No amount of demanding on your part will change the fact that this ship is docked until spring. The storm blew us way off course, and another one could spell the end of her."

"Where are we?" Robin asked the captain, tampering down his impatience to be off.

His three remaining men stood just behind him on the dock, glad to be out of the storm, at least the one at sea. All of them knew that the storm raging in their leader's breast wouldn't be so quickly extinguished.

Robin, understandably, had not been himself. No longer denying Marian's death, nor wishing for his own, he had lost his dejectedness. A new fire burned within him, a dangerous fire his men had rarely seen before. It reminded Much of his master as they prepared for the Battle of Acre, and Little John of the time they believed Marian dead in the cave, with the sheriff's men surrounding them. Allan could only remember Robin this fierce when he'd battled him in the castle kitchen, thinking he'd betray Marian. Or the time when he'd tied Giz to a tree in the forest and kept accusing him of trying to kill the King.

Well, Robin had been right about that all along, and Allan wondered whether he was blaming them now for having stopped him from killing the man who'd really killed Marian.

"We were blown up the Adriatic," Captain Bowman explained. "We're not far from Milan. Austria's just to our north."

"Austria?" Much exclaimed, then quieted when Robin raised a silencing hand.

"There's not another ship will carry you home, not in this season," the captain remarked. "You'll just have to content yourselves with wintering here."

"Not bein' funny, but I could fancy an Italian vacation!"

"There isn't going to any vacation," Robin almost snarled. "If we can't sail, we'll ride. Or walk, if we have to."

"Walk?" Much exploded. "Unbelievable! Master, we can't walk through Austria!"

"Try and stop me," Robin answered, already paces ahead.

Much, running to catch up, began pleading. "Robin, have you forgotten how much the Duke of Austria hates you?"

"I'm not planning on paying him a social call, Much. I'm just trying to get home."

"This, I do not like."

"Look, not bein' funny or anything, but why does the Duke hate you?"

Robin, striding with purposeful steps and a grim mouth, made no effort to reply, but Much was only too happy to explain.

"Leo of Austria fought with us at the beginning of the Crusade. He killed so many Saracens at the Battle of Acre, his tunic was soaked completely red afterwards, except for a white stripe across the middle, where his belt was. And that's what he adopted as his flag...a white stripe on a red background. Well, Robin was a hero in that battle, too, with medals from the King to prove it!"

"Stick to your story. We know all about Robin's medals. Why does Leo hate him? Some camp follower prefer Robin's arrow stickin' her to Leo's sword?"

"Wha-wha-what? You are revolting! Why does everything always have to be about...about...about THAT with you?"

"Don't knock it till you've tried it."

"Just go jigger off!"

"Come on, finish your story. Why does the Duke of Austria hate him?"

It took Much a moment to calm down, but he was only too happy to be invited to continue talking, for once. "I must say, this makes for a nice change, you telling me to talk! I could get used to this."

"Tell the story," Little John fumed.

"Oh, yes! The story! Where was I? Yes! Well, Robin isn't the only one Duke Leo hates. He hates King Richard, too."

"Sounds like he should be a, you know, Black Knight or something."

Allan's mention of the Black Knights made Robin draw in his breath in a quick hissing sound. Other than that, he offered nothing more to say.

Much proceeded to tell the story of how, after the crusaders had conquered Acre, Leo raised his blood stained tunic over the city, claiming it for Austria, then was infuriated when Robin, at King Richard's orders, tore it down.

"You see," Much explained, "Austria was only one army that helped win that battle. France helped, of course, but Acre never would have been won without our English king. Guy de Lusignan had been leading his army to win it for two years before we arrived, with no success. Then, we sailed into port, and within a matter of two quick, hot, horrible months, it was ours."

"That doesn't sound like Leo's got anything much to be angry about."

"He is, though," Much explained. "He was so mad at the time, he packed up, and went home."

"You're joking! Just for that? You sure there's no woman involved?"

"None. Anyway, it wasn't until after Robin mistakenly heard that Marian was married, that he even looked at another...sorry! I shouldn't have said that!"

The fire in Robin's eyes died out at the mention of Marian's name, to be replaced by a look of infinite sorrow.

Robin stopped walking. It appeared he was shattered, and unable to take another step. Much, not knowing what to do, offered him his flask.

"Water, Robin?"

Robin shook his head, forcing himself to picture Gisbourne. It was the only way he knew how to go on. Besides, it was far easier to feel anger and hatred, than to live with the sorrow, pain, and emptiness he faced without the woman he loved...his wife.

"Come on, lads," he said, clenching his teeth and squaring his shoulders. "Let's go home."

(Note: I know I've mentioned the facts about Leo of Austria in other stories, but it bears repeating. The Austrian flag of a white horizontal stripe surrounded by two bars of red is said to originate from Leo's blood soaked tunic at the Battle of Acre. Also, he did become enraged at King Richard when the Lionheart forced him to take down the banner he raised claiming Acre, since the victory was a joint effort, and not solely Austria's. This is important because this is the reason Leo later captured King Richard on his way home from war, handing him over to the Henry of Germany, who held him for ransom.)