Sherwood Forest - Alice and Little Little John have since arrived at the Outlaw Camp (he perhaps more joyous about their coming than she), where Little John is slowly convalescing, proving a poor patient, and they have settled in (for the moment) to life there.
Allan and Aislinn's triumphant return catches the gang on the back-end of an operation and escape, so Luke has not yet come back to camp.
There is much back-slapping and high-spirits at everyone seeing each other after being separated.
Much: Ah, the minnesinger returneth. [trying to razz Allan, as he is so often razzed by him] Now we may enjoy [sarcastically] 'entertainment' without ceasing.
Allan: [dubious] Minnesinger?
Much: It is a German word for romantic love.
Allan's face shows his surprise at such coming from Much.
Much: [insulted by Allan's genuine shock] I can...[splutters] know things!
Aislinn: Have no fear, Much. Allan's skill, as it were, has greatly improved while we were gone. At least, [grinning] so the ladies seemed to think. [all laugh uproariously, though the joke is not so clever a one as might deserve such an outsized response. They are glad to see one another again, to be together, a family, again.] He even turned the head of the Queen.
Much: [impressed, but also excited, as he counts her a friend] Eleanor? You performed for Richard's mother? [calling off to the side, toward the heart of camp] Did you hear that, Big Bear? Allan is back, and he has seen the Queen!
Allan: Wot's that? [looks about] Where is John? Off with Luke?
Robin shakes his head, 'no', biting his lip. And so Allan and Ash, before they tell their own tale of time away hear instead the story of the past weeks in the Forest, Gisborne's death, and Little John's perilous injury.
Allan: [trying to clarify] And Sir Clem, he now walks?
Robin: [again similarly shakes head, 'no'] It would seem, as Fate would have it, that though he both walked and fought that day, he is unlike to do so ever again. He is over-spent, and has not left his bed, much less attempted to put his feet to floor, since his man Wad found and returned him to Knighton.
Much: [finishing for Robin] Though no one knows much of a difference, save us, as he had kept his reborn abilities secret from all.
Aislinn: [ever with the troubadour's heart, sounding a bit like Tristan] What a fantastic tale that will one-day make! To fight and best Gisborne, and yet to lose...
Much: [pragmatically calling Aislinn down][showing a bit of jealousy for her fantastic recent adventures, and the fact that he is currently having to make lunch] Yes, but he's the one that has to live it now, isn't he?
Moving to the center of camp where Little John is bedded (awake and able to listen), all settle in to eat and continue to share news. [Alice has taken off with Little Little John elsewhere momentarily, as she fears him knowing too much of what goes on at camp, and sympathetically aware the gang needs a moment to reconnect and re-group.] Conversation begins with more than a few slights to the origins of Much's cooking, and Allan and Aislinn sharing kindred looks over their plates, knowing better than to brag about the hearty rich fare they have been served during their time away.
Much: [trying to deflect further insults away from himself] What, no jolly stories to share of time at Court?
Robin sees Allan getting ready to wind up and oblige, and stoppers it.
Robin: First, I think, we must be to business, saving cheery tales for the cold nights to come.
Allan and Aislinn in tandem (they have not acted as an effective team these last weeks for naught), share the outcome of the Sheriff's man at Court.
John: [incredulous] You paid for this man to be waylaid by...[referencing #35 "The Nature of Love and a Good Brisket", stalls out on the indecorous word. Alice is, after all, somewhere about]
Allan: [shrugs] 'Twas all I could think of at the time.
Robin: [dubious as to the method] So you have spent all the monies sent with you? On wenches? For someone else?
Aislinn: [chokes a moment on her food] Hardly.
Much: [horrified] For yourselves?
Allan: [laughing] Nay, Much. Nay. Calm yourselves, gents. [pulls out his money pouch-pouches-drops them to the ground at Robin's feet]
Robin: [whistles][quoting one of Richard's favorite swears] Old Henry's toenails! That is more than three months' thieving in Sherwood.
Much: [defensively] Unless we hijack a large shipment, which we often do.
Robin: [practically] Which are infrequent, at best...
Much: [still pouting, feeling outshone] Still...
Robin: How came you by it? Waylaying the barons on their way to the privy?
Much: Extortion? Thieving it while they slept?
Little John: [feeling better, and knowing Allan] Insurance against the seduction of their wives?
Aislinn: [bragging, perhaps a little][her tone like a little song] All earned, in the usual way.
As Robin runs his hands through the wealth of coin, Allan shares the meat of his findings.
Allan: Queen Eleanor plays a dangerous game. Not tryin' to be funny, but to my eyes she's running a long con.
Allan relates what is known of the Lady Matilda who is said to have Richard's child.
Robin: And the child's mother?
Allan: I never yet saw her, as she was in confinement when we arrived. [inclines head in Aislinn's direction] Ash spent no small amount of time with her.
Aislinn nods her agreement to his assertion. But she does not volunteer more.
Allan: She is called Matilda.
Much: [brainstorming] Is that not Queen Eleanor's mother's name? Perchance it is a pseudo-, [stutters] pseudepigra-alias?
Aislinn: [looks to her staff][in some way, wishing to protect her friend] Is her identity so very important to us?
Robin: [studying on the situation] A child would, perhaps, call the King home. Particularly were it to prove an heir he must formally claim.
Allan: Oh, on that account...
All present turn to him, even Ash, who has not been told his biggest piece of news.
Allan: I have it from the Queen's own mouth, to her Lord Chamberlain's ear, that Richard is even now in France, on an overland journey which will bring him to England. The child was born the very day we left Court. It was a man-child. But the King's true purpose in returning [smiles] is to be the tending-to of his rule, here.
Robin gives an un-confidant look of skepticism (because he has to look at things with a critical eye, even when, as in this case, he does not want to). They have been taken in by rumors of the King's return before-most disastrously.
Allan: [continues on] Then again, perhaps the Queen plays two long cons. Yet, the King's return was tacitly a State secret. It was not published about, which makes me tend to credit it more.
Aislinn: [her old desire coming back from #37, "Not on Those Days", to add a romantic shine to the story of Matilda and Richard][defending her friend] Well, the Lady Matilda is attended by a most-exotic Saracen, which makes me 'tend to credit' the tale of her and the King meeting in the Holy Land. Of a certain the babe is His. The Queen lies about nothing.
Robin: [magnanimously] That would set her [meaning the Queen] far apart from most other royalty; politics being based, often, on who can posture and invent the fastest.
Aislinn: Well, Allan knew the attendant well. Didn't you, Allan? [Allan has wandered over to Little John's side for a chat] Allan?
But she does not further pursue the question, as she sees Luke coming toward camp through the trees. Robin looked on wistfully as Aislinn touched a quick, insecure hand to her hair and took off at a run, racing toward Luke, toward her husband, and a reunion. Surprising no one, the couple did not continue toward the center of camp, but departed immediately for other parts of Sherwood and privacy.
SCENE: Post-news of the King returning, which has thrown a wrench into Robin's original plans to leave upon Allan's return, and find Marian.
Robin has walked some distance from camp, certain to avoid following any other footsteps or tracks visible, as he did not wish to stumble upon the reunited Scarlets, nor the Littles. But neither did he truly wish to be alone with his thoughts, with his current quandary.
It is not long before he encounters Vision Marian (whom you may recall from #15 "Crusader's Memory"), ready as always to chew over the decision he must make.
She is staunchly in favor of going to the King. (So we must assume, as Vision Marian comes entirely from Robin's psyche that at least half of his mind is also in favor. So in essence, he argues against himself.)
Marian: We've both sacrificed too much to Richard. Without him there is no 'us'.
Robin: [taken aback] That's extreme.
Marian: Very well, without him we can never live in the light. And the people we gave our lives to help (and the ones we could never even reach) will continue to suffer. Will we attempt to build our happiness on the backs of them? Is that not the very thing we live to prevent?
Robin: [sighs, why can't she ever agree with him, with, what he at least thinks is his position on the subject?] Marian, you have ever been a tourbillion, a tempest in a bottle. Can you not curb your intensity? I stand breathless in the face of your zeal.
Marian: [bringing it down a notch] The King is the key. He has ever been so. Without him, I think we must continue as we are. [her hands illustrate their separation, indicating the space between them even now in this clearing]
Robin: [impassioned] But that is the very problem, Marian. I do not know how you are, and I have no wish to continue so. I am no longer willing to live as Pluto to your Persephone. Seeing you only by turns, and watching as Locksley and Nottinghamshire languish in your absence.
Marian: [with steady gaze] Then ensure the King's safe arrival on English shores. For as the King goes, so go I.
Robin: [bows his head, his position defeated] Yes. I shall see to Richard.
Robin raises his head, his hand already outstretched, planning to take hers and find his way into an embrace, but when he lifts his eyes, Vision Marian is gone, like the transient mist now rising off the melting snow at his feet, the Forest warming as Spring finds its way surely back to Sherwood.
Robin announces his intention to the gang of going to meet the King in France and joining with Richard on his road to England. Much, knowing of Robin's prior plans to abscond and find Marian, is the only one surprised by the decision.
But it soon comes about that the gang must needs delay going.
Alice Little: Robin, he asks for you.
Robin goes to Little John's bedside, to see what the big man wishes.
Little John: [as always, a man of few words] I will with you to the King.
And so it is done. Robin grants John's request. They will hold off another week before departing, that Little John might further rest to accompany them on the journey south.
Conversely, no amount of delay, it seems, will enable Sir Clem to join them. He has not regained the full spectrum of use in his limbs, though his health is otherwise recovered, and even could they fashion a way for him to go along, any absence of his would be sure to be noted by the Sheriff and raise unwanted suspicions. Not to mention, chance his loss of Knighton and his re-instatement as its lord.
Calais, France - Salima, feeling more alone in the world than she has since meeting Marian, finds herself bisected, caught somewhere between joy over the baby, and all things related to Marian; a life at Court she is surprised to find dimmed by the loss of Allan's presence; and an overriding fear of her next encounter with Gautier, which she knows is only a matter of time.
Marian misinterprets Salima's mood, believing it to be rooted in insecurity, and her oft gloom-and-doom approach to life. Since Salima began keeping secrets, Marian has none of the right clues to decode the root cause of her friend's angst. Still, she tries to comfort her to make things better.
Marian: Salima, you love me, you love the baby, though I see you are terrified to say it. I will not take him from you. Ever.
Nottinghamshire, Sherwood Forest - Surprisingly, Michel has found his way into Sherwood (though nowhere near Camp) to join up with the gang.
Robin: [with a cynical eye] Why wish you to join with us?
Michel: I go where Asher goes.
Robin: You have thought long on this?
Michel: I have thought of nothing else.
Robin: Though you understand that Asher, er, Aislinn, is wife to an husband, and you may have no part of that life with her?
Michel nods without hesitancy.
Robin: And if trouble should arise from such, I would not tolerate it within my gang?
Michel: [earnestly] On my honor as a Frenchman.
Robin: Wherein lies my next question. You are French. Why, then, join with us? For those of us that are not outright Saxon are nonetheless Englishmen, and fight for England.
Michel: And does England not fight against you?
Robin: Certain sectors, yes. That is our chief complaint: Englishmen who abuse the English people.
Michel: French, English, it matters little to me, [shrugs] for I am a Jew, and as such hated by all countries. I choose my own battles, and I stand here to say I choose yours.
Robin: [charmed] Bold words, my friend. I shall consult Luke for in this instance I will do naught without his approval, and we shall see if you have what it takes to brave Sherwood, and its Sheriff.
SCENE: Allan is easily the most experienced of the outlaw band where women (of a certain type) are concerned, outpacing even Robin (who has, of course, retired some time ago) in his physical exploits. Pursuits which in the past Allan certainly has never shied away from sharing with the gang in great (and often interesting) detail when the mood struck him to do so. (To a band of men cloistered in the Forest, his stories, filled with bawdy tavern-style humor are not entirely unwelcome, though Much will prudishly pretend not to be listening when, in fact, his ears are nearly always attuned to the fantastical feats and sensual descriptions Allan relates.)
Allan's acquaintance with women, women of loose morals in particular, goes back to his 'hard-times good-time girl' mother (see #35 "The Nature of Love and a Good Brisket") and her various tavern-working colleagues. The bulk of his raising having taken place in a tavern's second-floor brothel has made him far from bashful about such things, and even further from being judgmental of such pastimes.
But it has not given him a very clear picture of a well-adjusted sex and home life. Brothel life is harsh, and at times often cruel, the women fierce of necessity, kindest to their fellow whores and children. And while, in the times and culture into which he was born, little or nothing is thought of a trollop beyond what one could buy from her (or take, if one is pitiless), Allan himself would never willingly have exploited or hurt such a woman. [The notion that engaging a prostitute was, in fact, exploiting her and perpetuating her own enslavement certainly not in existence during the Middle Ages.]
That said, Allan has been attempting to separate the concept of physical love one might buy or charm out of a woman from the concept of emotional, romantic love-which of course might ultimately terminate in a physical expression of love, but which is not built upon it. (Hard to do, coming from a world where physical pleasure-bought or taken, never given freely-is the sole end, and only sign and stand-in for "love".)
Finding Robin alone, he ventures to ask him about it. After all, Robin has been (however briefly to Allan's limited knowledge) a married man, and by all accounts, even Allan's, has shared a profound romantic love with Marian for years.
Allan: I would ask Little John [meaning, 'my questions'], but he'd just grunt and then go off and have a pout about Alice.
Alice and Little Little John have left the Forest, as the gang begins their preparations in earnest for journeying to meet the King.
Robin: [his curiosity piqued by the nature of the questions posed] Are you saying you wish to take a wife? Where shall you keep her? [counsels] There are not many women like Aislinn, content in outlawry.
Robin expects the usually explicit Allan run-down, which does not come.
Robin: Alright, tell me about her...[meaning physically, Robin makes a gesture that is rather lewd, of a purpose]
Allan: [affronted, doesn't like the question]
Robin: [satisfied] There you go, Allan, you've answered your own query. Didn't even need me.
Allan: How's that?
Robin: Allan-A-Dale, unwilling to sing the praises of a woman's form? Either she is supremely homely-in which case you are so in love you will not even lie to me about her appearance, or you have developed a long-overdue sense of propriety, and wish to protect her from unsavory commentary and licentious eyes. In which case you are in love. [tickled at the thought] The simple fact that you bothered to ask yourself the question to begin with: you are in love. I wish you all joy.
Allan: [surprised by Robin's insight] You do not think that it is only that I have not "had" her? That this is only due to unsatisfied lust?
Robin: [shocked. Allan has not yet sampled the woman's treasures and he is speaking of love?] Hah! And yet she haunts you with such questions? 'Tis love, of a certain. Bring her, I shall see you married forthwith.
Allan reacts, his concerned expression hardening.
Robin: [gets it] Ah. You are separated by the Channel. [his own mood darkens]
Allan: By far more than mere geography.
Robin: Married?
Allan shakes his head; 'no'.
Robin: Holy Orders?
Allan shakes his head; 'no'.
Robin: Then do not give up planning, Allan. I have never yet known you to be boxed in by any situation from which your superior wits could not free you.
But Allan could not tell him, chose not to tell him, that though he saw the world as many things: grifter, thief, outlaw, and man...he had never yet learned how to see it, how to navigate it and understand the way in which it turned, as a lover.
Beyond the borders of England's shores - This next bit would be, initially intentionally disorienting to viewers. We are not entirely sure where we are located on the map, nor where in the timeline of the series.
There is a great deal of sand shown in the establishing shot, so we may well be in the Holy Land, or, even, on the shores of France. (The look of the scene starts out lit and colored like Robin's dream/flashback in "Tattoo? What Tattoo?")
As we follow the camera inside the largest tent among the many pitched, we see Richard, Coeur-de-Lion, the King, tossing (though not too wildly) in His sleep.
But again, where, and when, are we?
SCENE: Richard dreams. He dreams of Portugal, of wintering there. He dreams of Himself carrying the paper to Robin, whom He found carelessly astride a third-story window, having seated himself on its narrow ledge observing the townsfolk below. The King feels strongly that Portugal was the right choice, before continuing on their journey. The day is bright and sunny. Robin's hair and complexion have both begun to show its effects, one lightening, the other darkening with the constant exposure.
He brought him the paper personally, as Locksley was one of the few of His lords (though young) that was himself educated enough to read, and such news seemed, perhaps, more real written down.
It was a rather rote report from Robin's home shire, but among the notes of cattle bought and squabbling neighbors was the brief legal statement that the marriage contract between Edward, Sheriff of Nottingham and Robert, Earl of Huntingdon which was to have joined their children and thus their estates, had been dissolved.
The King sees the momentary flick of concern on his young knight's face when he first recognizes the Sheriff's coat-of-arms at the top of the document. But the expression is fleeting, and upon his comprehension of what has passed, Sir Robin of Locksley appears soon enough reconciled to it.
Richard dreams. A night on the battlefield, a good day, one in which He prevailed. However, upon returning to camp, and settling into the necessary attention given matters of State, He finds He must call for Robin.
As Robin enters the King's tent (he is never far from it) we briefly glimpse Much, left behind to wait outside for his master. Robin reacts oddly to the unusual obeisance done him by the guards at the tent flap. He can sense something momentous has changed.
Richard: It seems We bring you only ever ill news, Captain of Our Guard.
Robin looks suspicious.
Richard: [cutting to the chase] Kneel, Robin of Locksley, son of Robert, and give Us your heart and fealty, [significantly] Huntingdon. [extends His ring]
Robin drops to his knees (though some of the whole-heartedness of this movement may be due to the suddenness of the news that his father, yet not an old man, has died). He kisses the King's ring, says his oath (which he has memorized since a child, starry-eyed at the thought of pledging himself to a king), and in a moment Richard is across from him, having dropped to one knee, the hand with the ring just kissed now behind Robin's neck in a gesture of comfort and solidarity. Richard kisses Robin's cheek (in a manly way), and strongly grips him with His arm in an embrace.
For a moment, Robin allows himself the informality of burying his head in Richard's Lionhearted shoulder.
Richard dreams. Sweat and fever, a wound swiftly going sour. Floating in and out of consciousness. The concerned, but beautiful, face of the Sultana Salima; sometimes close, as when she is tending His bandages, sometimes distant, as when she is watching over Him during the long nights of His illness. But always present.
Richard dreams. A searing pain in His shoulder, a useless arm, dust in His nose, eyes, mouth. The weight of the horse fallen atop Him. But oddly, a young woman. Saxon, He thought. What was she doing here? Her clothing white as angel's wings, she speaks of love. She begs a man for the life of her King. His life. The menacing glint of steel so familiar to His eyes in this desert place, but He cannot move. He has no weapons, He is (as a King should never be) a warrior, unmanned. He can protect neither this lady, nor Himself. She sheaths the sword, unnaturally, deep in her abdomen. Her action, her death, as stalwart as any knight's (Saracen or European) He has yet seen.
Richard wakes. He calls for His valet, though it is yet deep in the night. [The text at the bottom of the screen now lets us know] He is camped somewhere in Middle France, the sands outside not of the Holy Land as we had perhaps assumed. So it is true. The Queen did not lie. Richard Plantagenet, son of Henry, heart of a lion, is on His way north.
Richard: [addressing the valet][declares, pleased] We have had an oracular dream.
As is His way, Richard often forgets things not of immediate use to Him, and Marian and Salima have surely been far from His mind this final stretch of His Holy War. The dreams have returned them to the forefront of His thought, which He welcomes, knowing that for the moment His mission is not one of war, but of reconciliation and order-bringing. He will not tempt what powers that be that sent Him the dreams, which He chooses to believe are a message, an instruction for Him to follow. So the King called for the man with whom he wished to speak
Richard: William?
We are shown, in a spinning shot to reveal who is opposite the King, that it is (of all people) Will Scarlet that He addresses, temporarily attached to His traveling Court, along with his Saracen wife as Councilors, having proven helpful consultants and translators in the peace-making process so recently concluded. Will still wears his Sherwood tag, prominently displayed on the outer side of his tunic as proudly as were it a Templar's cross.
Will Scarlet: [not really sure why he was called out, singly, to meet with his sovereign] Yes, your Majesty?
Richard: [grandly, as though in His throne room, and not at all in His traveling tent] We give to you the honor of telling the men that We change our course today, to the north, to Paris and beyond. Le roi le veut. For We find We've a need to attend upon Our mother's Court visiting in Calais, and there retrieve something.
Will, never one to be totally at ease with the King, especially without Robin, and when Richard was in full-on 'royal we'-mode, cannot sufficiently stifle his look of puzzlement. The King is too pleased with Himself to much mind.
Richard: [chiding him, though Will has not asked any questions] Do not beseech Us to tell you what such a parcel may be-only that it is for love of your Hood We thus incommode Ourself...and Our men. [dropping for a moment into a more laid-back mood][very pleased with Himself] You know, Master Will, I do not doubt this gift shall prove a perfect fit.
Will manages a chary smile, as though 'oookay', and if D'Jaq were present he would certainly have shared with her a look of eyebrows raised in question at the King's sphinx-like proclamation. But D'Jaq was not present, so he does as he was commanded. And shortly went to find her, wondering what Robin could possibly have need of that currently rested with Queen Eleanor, and her Court
...TBC...
Please note that due to circumstances beyond the author's control, this is the last part that will be available until on or around Wednesday, 6 October 2010 (at the earliest). Regrets.
