Marian's heart was pounding with excitement.
She could barely believe that Robin had allowed her to join his gang, hidden among the trees in the forest, waiting for Gisbourne and his men to arrive in search of her. But here she was, bow in hand, sword strapped to her waist, blending into the landscape, thanks to her "new" clothes.
He trusted her, or his plan. Or both. What did it matter? He was showing her respect by letting her fight. Her already racing heart soared, even while her body shivered.
Just after dawn, the air in Sherwood had a chilly bite to it, and Marian wished she had a cloak to pull around her. Or better yet, she wished she could get warm locked in Robin's arms. Smiling, she could still feel them around her, remembering last night's love while the rest of the gang had been gone. Her heart began beating even faster.
"I hate waiting," she heard Much complain to Robin, just a few feet away. "You'd think the fighting would be worse, but it isn't! It's the waiting that makes you think...think of all the horrible things that might happen, once the fighting starts! I hate it!"
"Much," Will said quietly, from his hiding spot in the leaves, "shut up. Robin's trying to listen."
"Listen? He never listens! Well, not to me! He listens to Marian...!"
"Shut up," Little John growled.
Robin, all senses alert to Gisbourne's approach, ignored the exchange, well practiced at tuning out his best friend's nervous complaints. Marian, nervous herself about the possible upcoming battle, drew upon her courage by letting her eyes linger on the man she loved.
She could almost see the tense energy flowing within him as he aimed his bow at some distant target. And then, suddenly, without warning, he drew back his bowstring and fired.
Pivoting, Robin fired again, in a different direction.
Much's hated waiting was over. The battle had begun.
Robin fired a third time, hitting the rope that would release a volley of arrows on the third of Will's latest invention, huge contraptions strung with dozens of arrows. Many of the arrows were blunt, for the aim was to frighten their enemies away, not kill them.
As usual, it had been Robin's idea, but only Will was able to turn the clever concept to reality.
It seemed to be working. The gang could hear Gisbourne's men screaming, believing they were being ambushed by hundreds of outlaws. Marian cringed when she heard Guy himself bellowing out oaths. She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he had come, despite his own wound, to "save" her.
She needed to tell him, once and for all, the truth, and end the deception. If only she'd been able to convince him to turn from the sheriff, before this possible bloodbath!
But, happily, there wouldn't be bloodbath today. unless any of Guy's men were wounded, no blood at all would be shed.
Will's invention had worked. Echoing through the forest, Marian could hear Guy's voice shouting out the order, "Retreat!"
"Good work, Will!" Robin called out, jubilantly.
"It was nothing," the young carpenter said with a blush.
Much was every bit as thrilled now as he'd been anxious earlier. "Nothing?" he repeated, grinning. "It was genius!"
Sheathing his sword, he began taking long strides in Gisbourne's direction. In a flash, Robin raced forward and pulled him back.
"Master!" Much objected. "I'm only going to get the arrows! Somebody around here needs to keep things tidy!"
"Remember, Much! The last man?"
Much froze, gulping so loudly that everyone heard it. "Sorry!"
"If he's any kind of leader, which I doubt," Robin said, "Gisbourne himself ought to be the last to go." Especially when it's you, my love, he thinks he's trying to rescue.
"We won today," Robin told his men, "but he'll be back. In the meantime, we've got work to do, spreading a bit of happiness in Nettlestone."
"I like Nettlestone!" Much declared. "George there thinks I'm smart!"
"I assume you're including me?" Marian asked.
"You are a part of my gang," Robin admitted, hiding his misgivings for her safety.
The happy embrace she gave him cheered him even more than their easy victory had done.
"Shall we?" Robin invited, leading his lads to Nettlestone.
