Sorry for the long wait, life has been crazy as of late. Hopefully things have calmed down a little, so I can concentrate on writing some more :)

Many thanks to kegel for the beta!

Chapter 38: Waterwheel

He was glad that Eleri had found a way for him to stay that night. Much felt enough guilt for his earlier speculations, and though relieved to find out they were not true, he couldn't help feel all the worse for thinking them in the first place.

They hardly had a chance to talk, however. Robin fell asleep soon after Eleri had gone, with Much promising to wake him if anything happened. What could possibly happen here, Much wasn't sure, seeing they were far down in the depths of the cave, but he had promised nonetheless to ease Robin's anxiety.

Yet it did little to ease his own. Despite the questions he had asked, Robin had not given him a clear answer. He had passed all that had happened off as no big matter, shrugging his shoulders, and pulling away despite Much's attempt to look him over. Much did not believe Robin's argument that he was well enough, for he could easily see for himself that he was not.

With Robin's hood pushed back, Much could easily see the bruises that marred the man's face. A mixture of colors, hues of blue intermingling with shades of yellow showed just how recent all of it had taken place. More concerning, to Much's thoughts it seemed, was the bandage that encased his right hand. There was no blood to be seen, which he thought was a good thing, but it had been easy to notice how Robin was using it…or rather, wasn't.

Robin had not come down with any weapons. None that Much could see, at least, but still wondered what exactly Robin would do. They had talked about it before, certainly, about escaping this place. Robin had said there was a plan, but had also said there would most likely be a fight. Yet how could Robin fight like this? He would be able to wield a sword, that was for certain. Robin had become well acquainted with fighting with either hand, yet Much had to wonder if the man would even have the stamina to hold his own. And certainly using his bow would be out of question. He wouldn't be able to shoot.

That worried him. It was not because Robin was good with a bow; and he was, Much knew he had not seen anyone better. It worried him more because shooting was one thing Robin loved to do. Robin had not said anything about it, just like he had not said anything about the rest of his injuries, which Much felt were far more than he could see at the moment. Of course, Much rationalized that Robin was not speaking of it because he did not want to think of it. The man was often like that.

That was not something Much could understand. Not thinking of something didn't make it go away. Yet Robin seemed to act as though it did. He glanced back up at the man, surprised to find Robin watching him.

"How long has it been?"

His voice was rough, and he worked to clear it as Much answered.

"It's not morning yet."

He hadn't been keeping track of the time. That was something Much had given up long ago; it was too difficult to tell down here if minutes had gone by, or hours instead. Rather it was the rousing from the guards that got them up, that signaled it was morning. And Eleri had not come for him yet, so he knew that it was not.

Robin nodded to the answer, closing his eyes in a grimace of pain that Much could easily see. Whatever had happened to him must have been unfavorable, seeing now how distanced he was. Much waited, but after Robin had not said anything further, he came to the assumption the man had fallen asleep once more. That was a good thing, he decided. Djaq was always after Robin to rest after he had been hurt. She always said that it helped, and after tending to Robin in the Holy Land after his injury, he had seen the same result.

"What made you think that I had left?"

Much had not been expecting for Robin to say anything. It caught him off guard, not just because of that, but also because he wasn't sure how he would answer. Robin had opened his eyes after Much failed to respond, meeting his gaze. Much turned away, shrugging.

"I…we heard nothing from you," he said simply, hoping that would be enough. He still felt horrible for thinking all those things in the first place. Why did Robin have to remind him of it?

"Even if this hadn't happened…I may not have been able to come to you," Robin pointed out.

"Yes, that is true," Much supposed.

"Then why did you think otherwise? Have I let you down before?"

"No," Much shook his head quickly, meeting his gaze again. Surely Robin did not think that. "Of course you haven't. I just…what I said before, about you and Marian. I know how you feel about her. I figured I upset you…and I thought maybe, well, that maybe you felt you would be better if I didn't come back with you."

The confession came out faster than he had intended. Yet when he had started, he hadn't been able to stop himself, and after, he found himself blushing shamefully as he tried to occupy his attention elsewhere. He could feel Robin watching him, and he didn't want to meet the man's gaze.

Much felt like a fool to even believe such a thought, but there was a greater fear in him that his thoughts were indeed real, rather than imagined. Only that Robin would be too kind to say otherwise.

It was quiet between them for a long while, and finally Much risked a glance up to see what the other was doing. Robin was sitting still where he had been before, but his gaze was empty, staring almost straight down, hands crossed over his chest. Much wet his lips, trying to think of something to say.

"It's just a silly thought, really, I know it is. You know me, I'm always thinking of silly things," he tried to pass off a laugh, to lighten the mood, but the humor did not catch on with Robin.

"No," Robin shook his head, watching him. "If it is something that bothers you, then it is not so foolish. I'm sorry that I've made you feel as though it is."

To this he said nothing. What could he say? Much couldn't help the way he felt, but he hardly could blame Robin for his feelings either. Could he? Sure, there had been times where Robin had been callous in things he had said and done, but he could also remember the other things the man had done, the times were Robin had stood up for him, had been his friend.

He was about to point this out, in an attempt to cheer Robin up, but did not get that far as a voice interrupted the both of them. It was a quiet voice, a faint whisper, one they could barely hear, but they both noticed it none the less. Robin sat up quickly, moving to his feet with some difficultly and Much followed, edging around the rock face and to the back corner, underneath the entrance Robin had used before.

Above he could see the faint flickering of light from another torch, and the shadowed form of the person that had come. Robin called up to see if things were alright and the man answered back in affirmation. Much could not place the voice, nor could he see the man's face. He looked questioningly at Robin.

"Who is that?"

"A friend," Robin answered cautiously. "He wasn't sure if he could make it back here tonight or not. I guess he did."

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

Much was disappointed, but that was very much like Robin. The man gave him a smile, clasping his hand on one shoulder. "When the time comes, you will be the first. You have my promise. But it must be kept quiet for now."

Much nodded, but said nothing else. He took a step back as Robin did, watching the end of the rope come twirling down. There was a loop at the bottom, the rope knotted with itself and Robin worked to get one of his boots inside. Much ended up having to help, Robin unable to use his bandaged hand. Once it was in place though, Robin called back up to the newcomer, before turning back to Much.

"Go back with the others. I'll come back here tonight."

"What if you don't?" Much reached out to grab him by the forearm. Robin had just come back, and now already he was leaving. He knew that Robin had to; but still he didn't like the idea of it.

"I will," Robin was quick to reassure him. "You have my word."

He knew that now. Yet Much was referring to another matter altogether. Robin had been caught once; it could happen again.

"You didn't before; what if they find out? What if you're caught again?" Much took a moment to point this out, watching the man intently to see his response.

"Nothing will happen. They think I'm dead; they won't even be looking for me. I will come back."

The last was stated firmly, and finally Much relented. He hated seeing his master go, but Robin could not stay it seemed, if any of them were to get out of here. Giving him a nod, Much stepped back as Robin was slowly lifted up towards the ceiling. He watched until Robin had made it safely, and the light of the torch disappeared before he finally turned away.

It was time for him to go back, he supposed, and Much knew the following day would be long, and tiring, seeing he had not slept any. That would not be the only reason, he knew, glancing back the way Robin had gone. He would worry until he got a chance to see Robin that night again.

Nathaniel helped him over the last of the ridge, fingers grasping his forearms and pulling until he was all the way up. The rope was curled, shoved in one corner to await their return, and a moment given for Robin to rest.

He had been relieved to see that the man had come for him tonight. Robin was anxious to see if his plan would work, but in order to do so, he first needed to see things for himself. Ready to move, Robin nodded towards him, a futile move given how dark it was around them. The torch he had brought was small, a faint flicker of light, and Robin guessed that Nathaniel was more worried about being caught than trying to find their way.

"We haven't got much time," came the warning that proved Robin's suspicion. Nathaniel was helping him, but it was easy to tell he did not fully approve. Robin knew the risk was great; they would both be killed if caught, without a doubt, but Rhodri too would pay. Robin hated involving the child, but already they were in too deep to try and change things around.

"We should be going then. You know the way?"

Robin had asked him before, when he had first come down into the mines after leaving Dax. He had been there once himself, to the room that held the oversized waterwheel, and believed he could find it once again if given the time. It would go faster, however, if Nathaniel knew the way for certain. It was why he had asked earlier, hoping that if the man did not know, that he would have taken the time to find out.

In response, Nathaniel simply turned, and led the way. Robin was close behind, more awake now than he had been before due to the rest he had taken in the cave. Still though, he was not well, and that much was apparent due to the ever growing aches and weariness he was feeling . Robin could not remember a time he had felt like this, and had begun to wonder if he would ever recover.

Nathaniel kept up a steady pace, one that was almost too fast, but Robin understood the need for it. The only time they did slow was when they came to the main chamber, where guards normally took watch. Yet Nathaniel had taken the shift that night, and so it was clear. He took care to make sure that no one had come to search for him, and when they were certain all was clear, they crossed through.

It was a few more turns, a couple long tunnels that they traveled, before Robin could hear the first murmurs of falling water. Minutes after, they arrived. It was the first time he had seen the room, and despite Dax's explanation, it was still unexpected. Robin stayed near the entrance as Nathaniel went on in ahead, slightly awed at what was before him. The man turned back around when he realized that Robin wasn't following.

"What is it?"

"This is incredible," Robin was shaking his head, finally able to move once more.

The ground sloped at this point, going downhill. Like in some of the other rooms, small, narrow shafts that bore up to the ground above allowed minimal light in. More light soon followed, and Robin realized that Nathaniel was lighting some torches near the wall.

"Who designed this?"

The waterwheel was enormous, towering over them as it turned steadily. Above it were two more, much smaller versions that turned in opposite directions, and Robin heard, rather than saw, that it was being powered by water itself as Dax had explained to him before. He glanced down quickly as he went further, realizing that he had stepped into water. By the aide of Nathaniel's torch, Robin could see that part of the cavern was flooded. Of course that made sense. This room had been built lower than the others, a sort of cache for all the water in the mines. It eventually ended up here.

"I took years to perfect," Nathaniel answered him finally. "Alfred had some of the best craftsmen in the shire hired for this project alone. Most of them are dead now. The few that live still work for Alfred, to keep it maintained."

"How often does that happen?" Robin wondered, crouching where he stood. A few more steps out, and he was confident the ground would disappear altogether. Just how deep this cave went, Robin could not say. The water near where he stood was motionless for the most part, but he suspected the closer one got to the moving contraption, that the current would become unbearable strong. He watched as the giant arms dipped below the surface, noticing then the hollow buckets that were hanging to the sides. They went in empty, but came out full on the other side. There they trailed up, until they hit a platform, effectively tipping the bucket upside down, and emptying the contents, before swinging loosely back into place, and preparing for the downward trip where it would all begin once again.

"A few times a year, perhaps?" Nathaniel shrugged, crouching near him. "This isn't my line of work, so I honestly don't know. Why?"

Robin didn't answer right away. Instead he stayed where he was, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought. He hadn't realized the enormity of the equipment, and wondered how that would change things, or if it would do so at all. He still felt flooding the caves was his answer. It had to be done, slow enough to allow people time to make it to the surface, but fast enough that they knew there would be no other option than to allow the slaves to do so.

Looking at it here now, Robin was at a loss in how to proceed. Even if he could reach the wheel from here, it would take weeks, if not months, to do some serious damage. And what if Alfred sent workers to check on it during that time? No, it had to be sooner than that, he knew. Destroying it would be out of the question. But what if he needn't destroy it, but rather do something that was simpler. All he needed was for the water to stop being bailed. He focused on the wheel, watching it turn, the buckets disappearing into the water below. Suddenly a thought hit him.

"What are the buckets fastened with?" he asked suddenly.

Nathaniel held up the torch, as if that would help see any better. The man was shaking his head, clearly at a loss. "Looks like rope, maybe. I would guess some bolts of some sort. Why?"

"I think it's rope as well," Robin agreed, barely able to see it from here. But it would make sense. The buckets had to be secure, but not so firmly that they would not be able to swing free, or tilt. Rope would allow that movement, and if that was the case, there might be a chance.

"What are you getting at?" Nathaniel had been patient with him thus far, but the irritation was creeping into his voice. "You said you had a plan."

Until now, Robin had not said anything to him about his thoughts. In fact, he hadn't told anyone aside from Dax, as well as Much, though he hadn't told either of them everything. He hesitated in telling Nathaniel now, unsure if that was wise. It was ironic, he knew, knowing he could full well trust the man.

He had brought him thus far, and Nathaniel had saved his life. Still he questioned it, for he knew of Nathaniel's protectiveness over Rhodri, and wondered what the man would do if he felt the boy in any danger at all. Robin knew that if Nathaniel did not agree to his plan, then he would once again be in trouble.

He had to trust him. Robin came to the decision almost immediately after he started debating it. Nathaniel was one of the few people who were willing to help.

"I do have a plan," he began, turning to face the man. "It's not exactly safe, however."

Nathaniel seemed wary at first, but Robin was surprised to see him nod after a moment. "I never expected it to be. If it was easy, or even safe, to get away from all this, I would have done it long ago."

That much made sense, and Robin nodded, feeling a little relieved. "We need to get the miners above, to the surface."

"How do you propose to do that?"

"Make it so they can't stay down here. If we stop this from working, the caves will flood."

The bluntness of the statement shocked Nathaniel. The man looked as though he had just been slapped.

"You can't," he started at first, but then changed directions, "you'll kill everyone!"

"No," Robin was shaking his head. "We'll get them to the surface."

"Alfred won't allow it."

"He will. Alfred won't do anything to endanger the operations of the mine. The flooding would only be temporary, a few days, a week at the most, before they got things under control again. Replacing a lot of workers, however, is not only costly, but dangerous."

"Alfred won't allow it," Nathaniel repeated, but his argument was weaker this time. "He'll be upset, for sure, but…"

"Even if Alfred won't, you'll have over a hundred men and women down here that will be in a blind panic to try and get out. A handful of guards won't be able to stop them, and most likely won't even try, if they're trying to get out themselves."

It was a gamble. Robin trusted he knew how Alfred thought, how he would react, but the truth was he could always be wrong. His entire plan could come to a disastrous end if what Nathaniel said was true. Alfred could order a few strong men to guard the entrances to the mine, and to shoot down whoever tried to leave. The death and the damages would leave him without a working mine for months, if not years, but it was something the man could possibly do. Robin had thought of all these possibilities before, but in the end, it always came back down to what he felt now. That Alfred would not want to wait.

"Even if it does work," Nathaniel continued after a moment, "even if we do get everyone above ground, what then? Do we just ask Alfred to let everyone go? Expect him to say yes?"

"I'm assuming it won't be that easy," Robin admitted with a small laugh. His voice turned more serious when he spoke next. "We'll have to fight, take control of the manor. We'll have to take Alfred, and most of the guards, I'm sure. Some of the guards will run, and others may even join us."

"Fight?" Nathaniel was shaking his head. "What are you thinking? None of these people here are fighters. Meanwhile, Alfred has hired men who have fought in the war, who won't hesitate to kill, and they have weapons, we do not."

"They have picks, and shovels, and anything else heavy will work," Robin argued, knowing it was a weak point. But what he was about to say, was not. "Not to mention that everyone in this mine is stronger than the guards up there," he pointed briefly above his head.

"They've spent years, breaking their backs, swinging picks, carrying loaded buckets, building up muscles. Meanwhile the guards have eaten their weight in food, and drank themselves into a stupor on a nightly basis. Most of them probably haven't seen a real fight in years. They're here for easy money."

Nathaniel opened his mouth to argue, but found himself unable to say anything. Robin nodded to him, knowing he was thinking over what he had just said.

"It'll be in our favor," Robin continued quietly. "The guards, and Alfred, will underestimate them just as you did. We'll have the element of surprise."

"That won't last long," Nathaniel pointed out. "They're still not fighters. They'll fight where they have to, but they'll run given the first opportunity, and that's when Alfred will get the upper hand."

"Then we have to make sure they don't run," Robin answered. And that was easier said than done, he knew. Nathaniel was right; they were not fighters. Once they got a chance of freedom, they would not stick around and risk being killed. They would simply try and run. Some would make it, he assumed, but most would not. They would either be killed, or taken captive once more.

"How?"

He had asked the one question Robin had hoped he wouldn't. To that he didn't have an answer. He could get the workers to fight at first, for they had nothing to lose, but to stay, long enough to overwhelm Alfred and the guards? Robin shook his head.

"I do not know. I'm still working that much out."

"And what about this?" Nathaniel wondered, waving a hand in front of them, indicating the waterwheel.

"We have to stop it somehow," he started, continuing before Nathaniel could argue. "I can sever the ropes; if the buckets are gone, then the water won't have anywhere to go."

"You can't get close to that thing," Nathaniel argued. "They close the vent above, for a short time, they use a boat, and still it is extremely dangerous. Alfred wasn't responsible for all the craftsmen who've died, just so you know."

"I don't need to get close. I'm a good shot, I can do it from here."

"Can you?" Nathaniel wondered, glancing down, and Robin realized he was looking at his hand. Robin carefully pulled back, glancing down as well. He had forgotten about that, if only for the moment. He had often questioned whether or not he could still shoot, if he would be able to. Grimacing, he closed his fingers into a fist, before glancing up at Nathaniel once more.

"I guess there's only one way to find out."

TBC