XXV

The Prodigal Brother

Somehow the single kiss had multiplied. Shy had woken first, the sun already bright and high in the sky, it was hardly morning anymore. The leather cloak which had served as a blanket, fell from about her shoulders as she shifted from her slack position. She must have fallen asleep rather quickly; she had been exhausted from traveling on foot all day and through most of the night. Guy was still asleep, his head was resting against her shoulder. He had fallen asleep holding her, and his arms did make movement rather difficult. Shy had kissed his forehead once, hoping to wake him. When he did not stir, Shy found herself attempting again and again using the same method. When she pulled away she saw a smirk upon his lips and realized he had been feigning sleep. Shy gave him a jab to the chest. "Wake up, you cheat."

Guy cracked one eye open. "Good morning." He placed a kiss against her neck and shoulder. Shy laughed as he nuzzled the sensitive skin. "Good morning, my love."

The endearment took Shy by surprise, along with the bright look in Guy's blue eyes. It was as if she had woken up to a complete stranger. Or perhaps this was not the stranger, this was Guy without the mask of darkness and anger. It was hard to believe, nearly impossible, that this kind and loving man had been lurking just underneath the surface all this time.

They untangled themselves from about each other. Shy helped in cleaning up the camp and making ready to leave. "We've spent half the day asleep as it is," she said, "at this rate we'll be lucky if we make it to Warwick in three days time."

"There is no rush," Guy said, "We will not be able to go to my estates right away. Lord Waleran still has the deeds to the land. I told him I would only accept them after I saw you safely to Rotherham."

Shy grinned, "Imagine what he'll say when he sees me riding up with you?"

"I think he will be expecting it. I believe our friends knew something we did not when we left Warwick," Guy mused, "Gavin even warned me I was not to show my face there again if I did not have you married and-"

"Married?" Shy gasped.

"Yes," Guy hesitated, "Shy, did you think I meant to take you back with me as some...mistress I would set up in my home?"

"No, but...married..."

"You...you do not want to be married?" There was the cloudy sullenness come back. How quickly he could turn at the mention of one wrong word.

"It is not that," Shy said quickly, trying to think of how best to speak to him so that he would not think she was offending him, "It is only, I never thought of marriage before. To be a wife, to have...a family—how was I ever supposed to imagine such a life unless I wanted to break my own heart over the impossibility of the thing?"

Guy rose to his feet and took Shy's hands in his, "Then let me ask you to imagine it now. Will you marry me, Shy?"

"And have a life with you? A family?" Shy asked.

"Yes."

Shy kissed him and threw her arms about him by way of response. Guy was satisfied with such an acquiescence. "Now," Shy said with a laugh, her cheeks were a deep crimson and she placed a hand over them to cool herself, "make yourself useful, and help me get ready to leave."

Guy assisted her for a time before snatching up two of the, now empty, water flasks. "There's a stream that runs through here, it's not far," he said. Shy gave him leave to go, protesting that he would only continue to slow her down if he stayed.

He knew these woods almost as well as the outlaws which lived in them. Ah, but he must not forget that he was an outlaw himself while still in Nottingham. It was better to keep Shy close to the camp, anyone could get lost in Sherwood if they did not know the way. He walked for only a short distance before coming up to a quiet stream. Beside the calm water was a tree bent low beside the bank and under the dipping trunk was a small collection of stones. Only Guy recognized it as the marker for a grave. There had been another reason he had been so keen on getting to this particular spot in the forest.

"Never expected to see me again did you?" His voice was quiet and barely above that of a whisper. He smiled and placed a hand lovingly atop one of the stones, "Hello, Meg, my angel."

He sat down next to the grave marker and uncorked one of the flasks, dipping it into the water and filling it. The water was of a translucent blue and it flowed quietly down through the forest, with only the slight ripple of miniscule waves against the gravel of the bank. He always thought Meg would have liked being laid to rest here. It was a peaceful spot, and yet so full of life and a hidden wildness that was carried by the water towards the rushing river further downstream. Not that Meg had had a choice on where to be buried, Guy thought with a pained stab. He would never understand the mad bravery that could have been coursing through that young woman when she had decided to stand in the way of that soldier's pike. No, that was a falsehood, he would do the same now for Shy rather than ever see her hurt. But it could not have been the same sense of love. Meg had only known him for a few hours. That was not enough time for someone to know they loved another. These were thoughts he had spun long ago, how funny that he was still dancing in the same circles.

"I believe I found that freedom you wanted me to find," he said, capping the first flask and filling the second. "You may have been right about me," he paused, "But I'll be damned if I admit that to a living soul, and don't you dare speak of it wherever you are." It was quite easy to imagine Meg sitting beside him, just around the other side of the bent tree, her easy-going smile on her face and the knowing wink in her eye that wouldn't let him tell a single lie without feeling the shame of it. "I am betrothed, Meg," he whispered, "To a woman I—oh, I wish you might have been able to have met her." Shy and Meg were rather alike, now that he thought of it; both with the same hunger for freedom and to take charge of their own futures, but he had always admired that spirit in a woman. "For as long as I live, Meg I will never forget what you did for me. I would have died in shame, and willingly. Now, I-" but he did not now how to word his feelings, even speaking his own desires and hopes to the thin of the air felt like an overexposure. If Meg was truly watching him now then there was no reason to speak at all. She would know his thoughts and that was enough.

Guy capped the second flask with a sigh. He ran a hand through his dark hair, recollecting himself. How prophetic that he should return to the one spot where he thought all hope for any form of a redemption in him should have died. Instead it proved to have been merely a rebirth. It seemed that, contrary to all he believed, God and his angels had far from abandoned him, they had led him directly to a form of salvation, even though he still doubted he deserved it.

A shrill scream shattered the tranquility. Guy felt the air in his lungs vanish. That was Shy's scream, full of sudden terror and outrage. Guy unsheathed his sword and ran back towards the camp with demonic speed. The twin flasks of water lay upon the stream bank, flung down in Guy's haste to get to his weapon and hurry back to Shy. One had been uncapped by the impact, its flowing contents staining the soil a dark and murky black.

Shy had just finished cleaning the camp and had been tightening the saddle on the horse when the trouble had first started. An arrow had flown through the air and pinned the sleeve of her dress to the trunk of the tree. In her surprise she screamed, half thinking her whole arm had been pierced by the sharp projectile. She shut her eyes, expecting the wave of pain to arrive at any minute. Another arrow zipped through the invisible spaces between the trees to pin the side of her dress to the tree, it was followed by another, one at the left and right. She was perfectly immobile. Shy struggled against the arrows, tugging on her arm, but the arrow had cut so close to the skin and the point had neatly pinned the garment down that she could not rip it off. She hissed in pain as she accidentally nicked her wrist on the arrow's corner. Blood ran down her hand in slow drops, the warm stickiness of the blood only furthered her aggravation.

"Don't struggle, or you'll only continue to hurt yourself," a voice called out from the woods.

Shy immediately stopped moving at the very loud, very male demand. She scanned the area, but could see no one. Then, as if materializing from the foliage itself, a gang of men appeared. They were five all told, and one a women which caused Shy some amount of confusion. The one with the bow had another arrow notched to the string and was aiming it right at her. Shy pressed back against the tree, her breath coming in short gasps. At a nod from the archer two of the men began to look about the camp. When one, a large man with a formidable looking wooden staff, began to rummage through the saddle bags, Shy began to struggle again. "Get away!"

"Ah," the man with the bow waved it about, clicking his tongue like a mother hen, "Tame. Now don't worry," he said, "we won't hurt you. Just you stay there and keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet. We'll relieve you of any valuables and go in peace."

"I don't have any valuables, so you had best be on your way, thief," Shy muttered, trying to land a kick to the man with the staff. He growled at her. Shy snapped her teeth at him.

"A little spirit, eh? That's all right, I like a girl with some fight in her," he laughed and Shy felt her insides grow cold. What did he mean by that? "And don't play me for a fool. I can see by that lovely dress you have on that you're far from destitute. What's a lady like you doing traveling all alone?"

Shy bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out to Guy. If these outlaws knew she had a companion, they'd go looking for him and take him by surprise. Shy curled her hands up into fists, shaking with anger and fear at the leering stare in the archer's eyes. Her fingers touched upon the point of the dagger up the sleeve of her free arm. She brought her arm down to her side in order to curl one finger down inside her long sleeve and inch the dagger out of its sheath. It slipped out easy, and Shy stopped it with two fingers, pinching the flat of the blade between them she pulled it out further until she could grip it properly. "My affairs," she said, "are none of your business!" This last word was said with rushing exhale as she threw the dagger straight at the archer.

It was prevented from reaching its true destination by a dark-skinned man dressed in a monk's habit who was standing alongside the archer. The dagger quivered in the handle of a small, thick club. The archer did not seem the least bit shaken. Instead he laughed, "Oh very good, my lady," he gave her a smirk which Shy blanched it. It looked the mirror of Guy's, but that was impossible.

The monk pulled the dagger out of the club and examined it. "Fine, little dagger. Excellent craftsmanship."

Another one of the men peered over the monks shoulder. "Hang on, I've seen that somewhere before."

"Oh come off it, Much, you think you've seen everything somewhere before," the blonde haired woman snorted.

"No, I have!" He looked up at Shy with a derisive laugh, "You little, thief!" he cried, "Hah, where did you get this, hm?"

"It was a gift," Shy snarled.

"Gift my right eye," Much laughed, "The only way you got a hold of this was if you were mucking about in graves. Told you I knew this dagger, Tuck, it belonged to Sir-"

A fearsome roar filled the clearing as Guy charged out of the forest, sword at the ready. He placed himself between the outlaws and Shy. "Get away from her!" His voice grated, snapping like the yelp of a wolf warning others away from its mate.

Shy grinned at the stricken expressions of terror on the outlaws' faces. Why, they had all turned as pale as spirits and their weapons all shook in their hands. She looked at Guy, waiting to see when he would choose to send these miserable dogs running back into the woods with their tails between their legs. The bow and arrow fell to the ground. "Guy?" his voice was barely above a whisper. Beside him the monk uttered a prayer.

The red in Guy's vision faded and he lowered his sword, allowing recognition to filter through his addled mind. "Archer?"

There was a moment of silence before Archer laughed like a maniac and lunged for Guy, clapping him on the back in an embrace. Guy stood immobile. "You are supposed to be dead! No one could have survived a wound like that let alone manage to escape the collapse of the Castle! What do you have, brother, the Devil's luck?"

Similar statements of incredulity were echoed among the others. Their faces were still pale and only the one called Archer was capable of approaching Guy. The others regarded him as a living ghost and either could not touch him or would not for fear of being cursed. Guy spoke at last, trying to regain his composure after letting the fear of Shy being attacked wash away from him and then the shock of seeing his brother again. "It is a long story, and you would not believe me."

Shy cleared her throat loudly so that the others might turn their attention back to her and notice her state. Guy went at once to her and snapped the ends of the arrows off, lifting her immobile arm first and drawing the rest of the arrow through the hole until it was pulled through. He did the same with the two arrows at her side. Archer dipped his head, "Beg pardon," he said with a sheepish cough, "Introduce me to your companion here, Guy."

"This is Shy of Rotherham," Guy said, "Shy this is my brother, Archer."

"Your brother?" Shy raised an eyebrow, having already picked up on that fact after listening to the two reunite. "I might have recognized that impulse of attack first ask questions later."

"We are on our way to Warwick," Guy explained.

"Warwick?" Archer asked, taken aback, "What have you been doing since your death, brother?"

"Like I said, long story."

"Well, come back to the camp and tell us all," Archer said.

Guy looked to Shy for her approval and Shy merely shrugged, not seeing a way to refuse. They walked behind the rest of the gang, leading the horse along with them. Guy took Shy's injured hand and gently examined it. Shy batted him away with a laugh, stating it was only a small cut and nothing serious.

"So, Shy," Archer remarked as he fell back to walk alongside them, "tell me how you came to find yourself in my brother's company?" He had a roguish gleam in his eye, which startled Shy at first, until she realized she doubted the man knew of his constant flirtatious nature.

"It is rather the opposite," Shy said with a smirk of her own, "ask your brother how he fell into my company."

Archer looked over at Guy who merely took Shy by the hand, interlocking his fingers with her own and answering simply, "She saved my life."

Archer glanced from Guy to Shy and he grinned, "I see," he gave a mischievous laugh and began whistling a bawdy song as he strolled away, his arms supporting the bow at his back.

Shy laughed at his antics, "I see he got the jester blood of the family."

As if to prove Shy's point, Guy remained silent. He raised Shy's hand to his lips and gave it a light kiss. Her hand was quickly covered by his own. "You charmer," Shy snickered. Her laughter was cut short as she noticed one of the gang, the blonde-haired woman, had craned her head around was watching them with a sour face. "Oh my," Shy whispered, "I get the distinct feeling that one does not like me at all." She smiled wolfishly at the woman who blushed a crimson then looked away.

They walked until they reached a small gorge in the forest. A camp seemed to rise up out of the ground at the pull of a lever hidden between the rocks. Shy whistled, "That's rather clever. I like that." She walked inside and examined the small hearth kitchen and the rows of bunks.

"Well now," Archer announced, throwing down his bow and unslinging a quiver of arrows from off his back, "I believe a proper explanation is in order."

"Do you want to tell them, or shall I?" offered Shy.

Guy shook his head, taking it upon himself to relate the story of his apparent resurrection. He began from as much as he could remember of the aftermath of the siege of Nottingham Castle. He told the outlaws of how he met Shy and how she had managed to bring him back from the brink of death. The description of the slaver's cart was told with little detail, heads had already turned upwards at the mention of Shy's former status, it did not need to be further spoken of. After breaking free from the slaver, Guy went on to detail his involvement with Sir Gavin and Lord Waleran, the Imposter's campaign against Warwick and the subsequent position waiting for him back there. He could not be sure if he was fully believed by the outlaws once he had finished relating the recent events which had befallen him. Some even looked at Shy as if she were not truly in existence, as if they had all caught the same madness and were half expecting her to evaporate into the air; a fabricated creature created from Guy's own imaginings.

Tuck stood with his arms crossed, laughing as Guy concluded his story. "I would never have believed it if it was not staring me in the face. A miracle indeed. It seems your time spent among Robin Hood was not in vain after all, hm Guy?"

"Robin Hood?" Shy interjected, "You are Robin Hood's gang?" She was overawed for a moment when she received an answer in the affirmative.

"Aye, and I'm the new man in the hood, see?" Archer flipped up the hood of his cloak. "The people know my real name, but the title stuck. Go round through Nottingham and they call me Robin. As if he never died."

A dead silence fell over the gang. "He is dead then?" Guy asked somberly. His brother nodded quietly.

"Buried him in Locksley," Much added.

"Poor sense of justice in the world," the blonde-haired girl said with barely concealed contempt, "that he's dead and this one's still breathing."

"No justice at all," Shy interrupted any rebuttal from the gang, "Medicine has a hard time telling the difference between hero and villain."

"Shy!" Guy warned, "Don't feed into it, and Kate," he looked over at the other woman, "don't encourage her."

"If you knew anything at all about the man you've been traveling with you'd think twice before defending him so easily," Kate snapped.

Shy stared at the woman, her head tilted slightly in acceptance of the challenge. Her gray eyes clouded and only Guy knew the warning storm was beginning to brew. "I know it all. I know that to you he is a traitor and a murderer. While he has never told me of the cruelty I am sure he had inflicted upon you at one time, I have my own imagination to rely on for that. Believe me, I have seen the darkness in his soul you were so kind as to allude to. However, that does not concern me at all, does it? To me he has been a good and honorable man, and I assure you I've known blacker villains. So if you think to shame me by my association with him, you are quite mistaken."

Guy gave Shy's arm a none-too-gentle squeeze. At last, Shy conceded the battle and let her words stand in the icy silence which followed. "I'm not asking for your acceptance, or forgiveness. I never will," Guy said, "We are only passing through. When we leave you are free to consider me as I once was: dead."

"You will not stay even for a single day?" Archer asked, "At least to hear of what has happened to Nottingham since your...disappearance?"

"I have never cared for Nottingham," Guy said, "And neither did you last time I asked."

Archer shrugged, "Times change. People change," he ignored his brother's condescending laugh. "maybe it's just in my blood." He said this last on purpose to rile Guy. "At any rate things are at a crossroads. After the fall of the Castle, with no Sheriff and no lord of Locksley there was complete chaos. My gang and I took over as the unofficial law and order you might say. We continued to give out food and care for the needy while Nottingham was cleared out from under the rubble. The construction of the new Castle is still underway. You know for a time we were living in Locksley Manor. With no guards to run from anymore it seemed fitting. Anyway, word finally reached Prince John and Nottingham is to be getting a new steward until a Sheriff can be appointed. He's due to arrive any day."

"The best of luck to him. He will need it. I do not envy him," Guy said with the same disinterested shrug.

"It seems to me," Tuck said, "that we may have a new card to play in all this. With Robin Hood dead both you and Guy are the rightful heirs to the Locksley estates, and with Vaysey gone, as his former Master-At-Arms, Guy, that leaves you as the logical candidate for Sheriff of Nottinghamshire. We could take such a petition to the Prince, before a full council it would be impossible to refute."

"Don't you even think of dragging me back down to your affairs," Guy warned, "Prince John would have my head if he knew I was still alive and in Nottingham."

"Not necessarily," Tuck said, "He's tried to kill you more than once, and if he were to have proof of your still being alive after the fall of Nottingham Castle, I think the baffled Prince would be too scared to try his luck again on an immortal such as yourself, Guy."

"Why are you rallying around Gisborne?" Kate asked, "Or have you all forgotten how hard times were while he was our lord and master?"

"Yeah, Tuck," Much said, "wouldn't it make more sense to get Archer the Locksley estates and set him up as Sheriff? He could pardon all of us and...we could all go back to our lives."

"Excuse me, but do I get a say in all this?" Shy asked.

"It really isn't your concern," Kate said.

"I would say the affairs of my future husband were my concern, and it seems to me you have all avoided asking Guy whether or not he even wants the responsibility of ruling over a people who still believe him dead and gone."

All eyes were upon Guy as they waited for an answer. He shook his head, "No. I don't."

"Well, then, there you have it," Shy sighed. "Sorry we can't be of more assistance," but she hardly sounded sorry at all. She flounced from the outlaws camp to see to the horse, expecting Guy to follow her shortly.

"Do you mean that?" Archer asked, "You won't stay to help your own people?"

"They are not my people," Guy hissed. "There is no reason for me to stay and risk my neck for their miserable sake."

"That is not what you believed when you stayed to fight for us all back in Nottingham. We have never had ties to any people. We are exactly alike, yet we both know we risked our lives fighting for something greater than ourselves that day. I saw the change in you as you saw it in me. Where's that gone now, Guy?" Archer snapped, giving him a look which nearly made Guy believe that it was not his brother standing before him, but Robin Hood himself. "Stay. Stay for this one day and see what I mean. You can afford that at least, for my sake?"

Guy looked over to where Shy stood waiting for him with impatient eyes and then back to his brother. He sighed, "Fine," he growled, clasping his brother's hand, "but only for the one day." Even as he made the bargain he was certain he was going to regret it.

A/N: Hurray! The outlaws are back! That means trouble can't be far behind. ;)

Also, the next chapter is done so be on the look out for that soon. And don't forget to review!