LV

"What say you my man - is there still room at the front?"

The guard blinks confusedly at this question and makes sure to get a good look at the speaker. The nobleman is unruffled and patiently waits for an answer.

"Oh yes, we must be well situated Cedric, I ended up staring at the back of your head last time and that's hardly diverting."

Chuckles from all in the vicinity at this, particularly from 'Cedric' who is highly amused with the name that his friend has just made up for him.

"Well, how is it looking? Do you think we shall have a good view of his majesty or is the place overrun?"

The sentry frowns. All he'd had to do so far was check names on the guest list and now people were asking him questions. He didn't like it.

"Who wants to know?"

"Why, The King Richard Appreciation Society that's who!"

Shrugs. Bafflement.

"Now don't tell me you've never heard of us - we have members in such far flung places as Rochdale and Scarborough!"

If there were crickets in Nottingham, one would've been able to hear them right about now.

"Oh dear, you haven't… this is vexing indeed..."

'Cedric' has to hide his face in his sleeve at this because Allan is cracking him up. Little John nudges him as a reminder to get it together.

"Ah well, nevermind, we shall brave the crowds and make the best of it. For the love of the king you understand." He declares melodramatically and is rewarded for his fine acting skills with a hidden smile from Djaq.

No smile from the guard however, only a blank look, which is precisely what they're aiming for. There is a small crowd gathering behind them now and they're hoping he'll soon tire of their chatter and wave them through.

"Has Sir Edward of Knighton arrived? I am sure he would be so kind as to advise us where best to stand; he's always been very good to us when we've been visiting this fair town."

Allan knows he is taking a risk in namechecking Sir Edward; he is not one of the sheriff's favourite people after all, but figures it wouldn't hurt to have noble connections if they are to have a chance of getting in.

The guard sighs in irritation. They're holding everybody up. He scans the list and lo and behold, there is Sir Edward. It's good enough for him. He knows he's supposed to check their names, but they keep wittering on about the king and it's doing his head in. He's about to let them through, but hesitates as he notices the big man.

"He's a member of your society as well?"

"Why yes, of course! but Jo… Joffrey here doubles as a bodyguard – one can't be too careful these days, there's outlaws and unsavoury characters about you know."

How Allan kept a straight face whilst saying this, Will would never know. He had to turn away on the pretext of patting 'Joffrey' on the shoulder. Little John's unimpressed grimace at his new moniker only made him worse. This was no time for descending into fits of giggles though, because they were being scrutinized.

Fortunately, their finery, (stolen loot every bit of it), passed muster.

That is until the guard pulled up Djaq.

"You can't be telling me that he's in your club."

The 'nobles' floundered a moment before Will/Cedric smoothly took over, "Why ever not? He's a very good boy I tell you. We purchased him from one of the most respected handlers, indeed, if you're ever in need of one I can certainly recommend the fellow."

Murmurs of interest from some, but groans of exasperation from most. The guard decides he's finally had enough.

And so it came to pass that after all the trouble they'd had the previous evening, not only did Robin Hood's men get into the castle on the day of King Richard's visit, the guards were practically pushing them through the gate to the sounds of cheers from the nobles waiting in line behind them.


"I do enjoy a good wedding don't you?"

Francesca clenched her jaw and focussed upon the scenery outside the carriage. Perhaps if she ignored him he would shut up.

"Yes, all those ring kissers in Nottingham will be missing out today!"

No such luck.

Wait a minute…

She frowned as her brain tried to make sense of the puzzle that was her future husband. What was so terrible in wanting to see the king instead of attending a wedding? And more to the point, who was he to look down on others for doing something he was notorious for? And if the wedding was so 'good' then why was her father staying in Nottingham with the rest of the 'ring kissers' as he so aptly put it?

Then again, the shoe definitely fits there.

She brought her eyes to his, as if that would somehow help her solve the riddle, but instantly regretted it as he then, (for perhaps the first time ever), turned his attention to her well-being.

"My dear, you must not be sad today, I know you were once fond of him…"

Were? I think you'll find that I still am.

"But you must understand that Gisborne is on the way out you know? Not that he was ever really in if you catch my meaning… poor prospects… whereas you and I…" He gestured expansively to signify their great prospects and it looked so ridiculous that under other circumstances she would've laughed.

As it was, she bit back a frustrated sigh, not knowing which was more excruciating; the faux concern for her or the ridiculous assumption that his having better prospects would make her more comfortable marrying him and less distraught to lose the man she loved. Not for the first time, she decided he was utterly absurd.

Naturally, she kept such sentiments to herself, merely nodding to show that she had understood and that seemed to satisfy him.

For all of two seconds.

"And we make quite the pair do we not? I for one am not ashamed to be seen with you."

Francesca repressed a cringe. She could neither agree nor reciprocate so she pretended to be flattered whilst wondering if she could jump out of the carriage and run to the hills.

Or maybe the forest?

Any outlaws up for kidnapping me today? I am not above begging…

Winchester gave her a respite from his chatter to fuss over his attire and she rolled her eyes at his vanity, that being the obvious source of his 'compliment' – it went without saying that any positive words from him concerning her appearance were only to be understood in terms of how she might make him look better.

Still, whichever way she wanted to take it, she supposed she should be grateful to receive any compliments at all considering how terrible she felt. Despite her talent for hiding her emotions, a part of her still boggled that the sadness she felt was not blatantly obvious. To her it was as if a black veil clung to every inch of her, inside and out, colouring all that she was but when she looked in the mirror, she looked no different, not in any way that would be noticeable to most people and certainly not to self-absorbed types such as Winchester.

Dot Whittleworth had seen it though.

She'd arrived at the castle that morning, grumbling good-naturedly about the guards and the twenty questions she'd had to answer to get in the place, and the first thing she did was pull Francesca into a hug. Struggling to contain her tears, Francesca pulled out of the embrace only to erupt into sobs as soon as she saw the finished scarves. Dot pulled her back into her arms, completely unsurprised at this outburst and held her as she wept.

"There now, they're not that bad surely!" Dot quipped, to which Francesca could only laugh. They were in fact beautiful and Francesca said as much as soon as she managed to quit laughing and crying simultaneously.

In truth, as she had visited her the previous afternoon with scarves and patterns in tow, she had not thought the old lady would be finished in time nor that the work would be so finely wrought but she had never been happier to be proved wrong.

Her happiness was short-lived however, as her father disturbed it by banging on the door of her chamber and yelling at her to get a move on.

She smiled sadly at Dot in apology for the rude interruption and drew her into one last hug, thanking her from the bottom of her heart before paying her liberally for a job well done and declaring that if her father would allow it, she would certainly come visit her again soon.

If she could have, she would have said much more. She would've thanked her for being there for her, for noticing her sadness and comforting her, for making her laugh at a moment where she felt she might never stop weeping. Where others would judge her harshly for loving such a man, Dot had shown her understanding and compassion - had even gone so far as to tell her Guy's story – something that brought her closer to him, made her better able to understand him and…

wish him the best.

That's what the scarves were for. That's what Dot had been helping her to do.

It was thoughts of her friend that helped her keep her head up as the carriage drew closer to Locksley. Winchester would probably think that it had been his doing, but she couldn't care less. In fact, she made it her mission to tune out any further pointless chatter from him the rest of the way and focus upon the good people in her life, letting her thoughts of them soothe her as best they could in the battle against her ever-increasing agitation.

All too soon, the church came into view and the carriage came to a standstill. Francesca could already feel a painful lump forming in her throat and tears burning in her eyes, but willed herself to keep all effusions of emotion at bay.

This is not about you, it never was. This is their day.

She took a moment to breathe, reflexively running her fingers over the piece of paper in her pocket as she had so many times since the previous evening – unconsciously seeking comfort in the physical reminder that Guy had once loved her.

Wasn't that what she had wanted? What she had agonized over all these years?

Now she had her answer...

and was that not more than she'd thought she would ever have?

It could so easily have turned out differently. She could've still been sitting in the nursery at her sister's house none the wiser, but no, now she knew and he was lost to her, yes, but did she not always think that he would be?

As Winchester took her hand to help her out of the carriage, she tried to think of this. She had so much more than she'd ever thought she would have, indeed for most of her life she'd never thought that anybody would love her in that way at all.

Blessed and cursed. Bittersweet as life so often is. A small smile crept upon her lips, one of self-consolation but also gratitude. You will get through this.

"Are you amused my dear? Yes, I must admit it is rather amusing isn't it?" Winchester gestured to the decorations, all smirks and mocking tones, "Still, I suppose it's the best he could do which was never going to amount to much was it?"

Francesca clenches her jaw, offended on Guy's behalf. She sees villagers arriving with flowers and can't find fault with their efforts.

"Now, our wedding will be something else entirely - nothing but the finest I assure you, nobody will be abandoning our wedding in favour of a king that isn't coming that's for sure."

She turns abruptly to face him.

What do you mean 'isn't coming'?

Normally she wouldn't want to know. In fact, when it came to business, she found it better not to, but this… well, this was too interesting to ignore.

"You do not think he will come?"

"No, I do not. I would've heard if he had such plans."

Winchester left it at that to greet the men standing guard outside the church and she politely did the same whilst pondering what the king's non-arrival might mean for them all.

Her eyes drift to a dark figure talking with his manservant by the pond and she wonders if he knows.


"Thornton, are you married?"

"Alas, my wife has died Sir."

A twinge of shame hits Guy that he doesn't already know this; Thornton has been working for him for years. He sighs. Another sin to add to the pile.

"Did she understand you?"

"I think so Sir. Yes." Thornton smiles fondly and Guy wonders if he will someday smile that way when speaking of Marian.

"That is the thing isn't it? To be understood..."

"Oh yes indeed Sir."

Will she understand him though? Will she be able to look past the things he has done?

"I have committed crimes."

"Really?"

"Heinous crimes..."

You have no idea…

"… but by taking Marian in holy wedlock, it will wash away those crimes…

her pure heart will cleanse mine."