XLI
"It won't work."
Guy couldn't fault Hood's logic but there was an obvious flaw in his plan.
"Shut up!" Robin hissed whilst backing himself and the taller man away from Winchester. He couldn't believe that for a second time this day he'd been reduced to taking a hostage.
"Do I have to spell it out for you? He doesn't care about me: he will just shoot us both you idiot!"
Ah yes, he had a point there.
A point that was proved right as seconds later an arrow sailed past, narrowly missing both of them. Either Winchester was a bad aim or that had been the warning shot. The smirk on the lord's face suggested the latter.
Well this was a conundrum.
He could stay put, which meant that Winchester would most likely shoot Gisborne because he was currently doing an excellent job of being a human shield but then there was the problem of the two guards who'd accompanied Winchester and were now approaching them from both sides. Or he could drop Gisborne so-to-speak and make a run for it but then that would mean he'd end up being pursued by Winchester, the guards and Gisborne.
What he decided on in the end, (and not a moment too soon), was to twist himself and Gisborne round to face the guard to his left before forcefully shoving Gisborne at him. As the duo toppled over, he then turned his attention to the guard to the right and swiftly put him out of action with a hefty punch to the face. He then relieved the man of his shield and it was a good job too because an arrow promptly landed smack bang in the centre of it. He cursed at Winchester before gathering his wits to face Gisborne.
As it happened, he was spared the trouble.
The troops had arrived.
He looked up to see Much competently dealing with the guard Gisborne had landed on. Nearby, Will had already knocked out Gisborne and was stood glaring at the man lay prone upon the ground. The cherry on the cake though was the satisfying sight of Little John smashing Winchester in the back of the head with his staff before growling "Him, I don't like."
"I was dealing with it you know!" The archer quipped, and despite the bravado, his enormous grin spoke volumes of his happiness to see them.
"Yes of course you were." Much said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
This was no time for banter however - more guards were coming up over the ridge where Winchester lay. Little John sprinted away from them, towards his friends and Robin directed him and Will to grab Gisborne whilst he and Much held up the new arrivals. Winchester would've been a better prize but Robin was hardly about to pass up the opportunity of taking Gisborne either.
We're not done yet
"What happened? What have you done to him?"
The inhabitants of Sherwood forest were surprised to find that their guest had not only got over her bout of light-headedness but was no longer mute.
No one was more shocked than Allan, who'd been tasked with keeping an eye on her whilst the others went to fetch Robin, and had been hoping to coax a word or two out of her whilst they waited. It wasn't to be. Instead, it was the sight of an unconscious Gisborne being hauled into camp by Little John and Will that inspired this sudden improvement of health and desire to speak.
"Table leg to the head is what happened to him." Will answered casually, as if he were merely giving her the time of day.
"Oh! So that thing is a table leg is it?" Much chuckled, "I've been wondering about that!"
"Weapon of choice for me these days." Will replied, proudly brandishing said object and the men were grinning and patting him on the back as if he was a fine fellow, which to them he was.
Francesca felt differently however. She was fuming. "Excuse me, but are you telling me that you hit him over the head with… a piece of furniture!?"
"Well he is a carpenter!" Allan joked and everyone groaned.
Everyone except Francesca that is, who looked like she might 'table leg' Allan any minute. In his defence, he did have the decency to look sheepish, not for very long but yeah…
Much had been about to say that strictly speaking it hadn't been a piece of furniture but actually a piece of a piece of furniture but the crestfallen look on Francesca's face stopped him from doing so.
"Why would you do that?" Her voice, which was thick with tears, was like a cold shower over the jubilant mood of the outlaws at having captured their enemy.
Robin was the first to snap out of it. Her behaviour was so strange as to be practically offensive to him. He stormed over to Gisborne and began tying him up, "Do you know who this is?" he shouted.
Francesca shrank into herself; she had not expected to be yelled at. She nodded in answer to his question.
"Oh you do, do you? Well then you would know that this man is responsible for despicable crimes against the people of Nottingham then wouldn't you?"
Francesca had no idea what he was talking about, that much was obvious from her pained expression.
"Was it not enough for you at Locksley? Did you not see what he did to one of our gang?"
She was about to protest that what Guy had done was no worse than what he'd done to her but the outlaw was not done with speaking yet.
"Did you know that the house in which he proudly announced his betrothal was my house? That he took it from me? My home! My lands!" Robin was now dragging Guy towards a tree and Little John went to help him but upon seeing the furious look upon his face, thought it best to leave him to it.
Francesca was shaking her head; there must be some mistake…
"And that he and the sheriff have done nothing but terrorize the people of my village? My people! Cutting off hands, cutting out tongues, hanging peasants for minor offenses…"
The words rained down upon Francesca like blows but still Robin continued and all the while, he roughly tied the unconscious man to the tree, so tightly that were he conscious, Francesca was sure it would hurt, and she wanted to look away, to cover her ears, to somehow make it all stop.
"I mean look around you! Did you get a good look at the people of Nottingham on your way to the party?" Robin was striding towards her now, his anger in full flow, words tumbling out of him fast and loud, "They are poor! Taxed to the hilt! Hungry and desperate! and look at us…!" His arms were outstretched gesturing to his men, "Look at where we are living! Do you think we wanted this? Do you think I fought five years in the holy land for this!?"
A heavy silence hung over the camp. Francesca kept her head bowed but out of the corner of her eye could see one of the men (the one she now knew as Much) moving over to the leader and placing a hand upon his shoulder. He was not to be comforted however, standing rigid with arms folded, shaking his head, "And don't get me started on what he's doing to Marian…"
"Robin. Stop."
The voice came from behind them. Everybody turned to look.
"It's not her fault."
It was a strange voice and it belonged to an even stranger looking person. Francesca thought she'd seen everything this day but no, here was something else to prove her wrong. Well, Somebody else to be more accurate – a somebody wearing a mask and cape…
Am I dreaming? Could it be that when I passed out, I never came to?
Guy smiled lazily.
He was dreaming and it was heavenly.
He leant forwards to capture her lips with his own and found that he could not. He tried to raise his arms but it wasn't happening. She was staring at him now, a shy smile upon her lips and oh god how she undid him.
Kiss me please…
"Shhh… don't struggle, you'll hurt yourself even more."
The pain hit him then. A stinging pain at the back of his skull. Once more, he tried to raise his arms and it was then he saw the rope tightly wound round his body and realised this was no dream but in fact a waking nightmare. "Where…?"
"We're at their camp." Francesca whispered, her voice soft and sad. She hated that she had gotten him into this.
"No!" He snarled and strained against his bonds, his face contorted with anger. "Hood! Let me go!"
In his frustration, he banged his head against the tree and white-hot pain surged through him. Francesca winced in sympathy, "Shhh…" She moved to clean the wound at the back of his head again but he was like an injured animal, twisting away from her. "Guy please don't, you'll just make it worse…"
He looked at her then, with eyes so vulnerable it made her ache. She remembered that look. Lord, how she remembered… she closed her eyes and there he was - her poor sick man, poisoned and feverous, half-mad with fear.
But he wasn't her man.
He was someone else's man. Someone who was probably worried sick about him.
Yes Fran, overstepping the mark here aren't we? Don't think his lady would be too pleased to see you with him like this eh?
It was at that moment she realised that the entire camp was watching her. She blushed and bowed her head before resuming her task. Guy continued struggling but after a short time became still just as she had known he would.
That's it my love, you remember this don't you?
She mentally cursed herself again. He wasn't her love. He wasn't even hers to clean up but in her distress upon seeing his injuries she had begged the men to let her, had even told them that Guy would be easier to handle if they let her and now here she was…
She sensed movement to her left. It was the leader and the masked man, returned from a private discussion somewhere outside camp. They were staring at her as well, wearing the same shocked expressions as their comrades nearby.
What? I'm not going to run if that is what you're worried about.
Needless to say, that wasn't what they were worried about.