LVI

Marian looked stunning, there were no two ways about that.

Francesca figured she could've worn sackcloth and still enraptured them all with her beauty, but to see her in wedding dress and veil; well, it was jaw dropping. Judging by the degree to which Winchester's jaw hung open, he was inclined to agree. Francesca studied him curiously, unperturbed at his interest in the bride, indeed actually pleased by it because it meant that he shut up for two minutes together.

What did perturb her however was what he did next.

Just as Marian was about to walk down the aisle, he left his place in the pews to go to her. It surprised and irritated Francesca, not because she felt any sort of jealousy, no, never that, but because this was Marian's moment and he was intruding.

It seems that others felt the same way because grumbling broke out amongst attendees at the back of the church; they would've forgiven an interruption from her father or a relative but this man? A family friend who hadn't been around for years? It was hardly appropriate.

What could he possibly have to say to her that cannot wait?

At the sight of him approaching, Marian's expression turned sour. It was for this reason Francesca followed him, sensing that nothing good was to come of this.

As Winchester then pulled her into an embrace, tossing aside her veil to clumsily kiss her on the cheek, Francesca felt a jolt of outrage, not for herself but for Marian - after all, who would want this (from him of all people) just as one is about to walk down the aisle?

This is her day, how can he just insert himself into the proceedings like that?

Then again, wasn't this just typical for him? Did he not think that everything revolved around him? Why should it be any different here? He'd already trampled on their engagement party so why not the wedding as well?

He tightened the clinch and Marian squirmed in his grasp. Francesca was aghast. Her horror swiftly gave way to anger and disgust, knowing all too well what it was like to be on the receiving end of unwanted attention from an unwelcome source.

She turned to see if Guy had gotten wind of this. Alas, he had not. He was standing at the altar, eyes to the front, head bowed. Clearly, nobody had bothered to tell him that his bride had arrived inside the church, nor that she was currently being molested by another man. Francesca coughed loudly in the hope that it might attract his attention or at least bring Winchester to his senses. On the latter count it worked, the lord backed off slightly, but not before gripping hard upon Marian's wrist and hissing in her ear,

"He is finished, you know. I'm going to see to it. Who will you turn to then? When everything here belongs to me? If you beg me, I might give him a job. If you are nice to me…" The innuendo implied here was evident in his malicious tones but then his tone darkened, "I'm going to remind you every day of how you looked down your nose at me, you can count on it."

He pulled her close for once last squeeze and Marian had finally had enough - shoving hard to disentangle herself from him. Francesca gave a sigh of relief, but it didn't last long for although Winchester walked out, (uninterested in the wedding now that he'd said his piece), it was Marian who now gave cause for alarm or more specifically the look of panic on Marian's face.

Francesca instinctively rushed forward and was shocked to witness Marian collapsing in front of her. She reflexively brought her hands up to catch her and as her fingers met her waist, Marian flinched and yelped in pain before slumping against her, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Help me." She whimpered, voice barely above a whisper.

Francesca was about to ask what was wrong but didn't get chance.

"What's going on?" The booming voice was unmistakable and Francesca was relieved that Guy was finally with the program.

Marian couldn't say the same. On the contrary, her panic level raised several notches.

"No, please! He cannot know! Please help me!"

Francesca had no idea what she was talking about. It was then that she felt a strange wet sensation against her hand and looked down to discover blood.

What the…?

"I think my stitches broke… as he grabbed me..." Marian gritted out, nodding in the direction of the departed Winchester.

"Stitches!?"

Why would you have…

Oh God, no.

Francesca's mouth dropped open. The realisation hit her like a ton of bricks.

No.

You cannot be…

As if to contradict, her mind helpfully supplied her with a rerun of Thornton's words from the previous day,

"The Nightwatchman… not much I can say about him other than he wears a mask and a cape… and as of last night a nasty wound to the abdomen."

Francesca had exactly zero seconds to digest this revelation and then…

all was chaos.

At once, there were people everywhere. Some rushing to Marian's aid, others stood frozen to the spot with mouths gaping and eyes fixed upon the two women, most pushing to get a better view with which to gawk at them…

and behind them all…

Guy.

Trying to push through the crowd.

Oh God…

He's about to find out!

Panic took hold of Francesca, paralysing her completely.

Luckily Marian was over that point and thinking on her feet. She noticed that Francesca had a bundle in her hands and shuffled to have it pressing against the wound.

In a moment of absurdity, Francesca felt sad as she watched Marian's blood stain the wedding gift she'd gone to so much trouble to procure before internally screaming at herself to get it together and help this woman who was eyehole deep in trouble and about to go under.

Her first instinct was to steer them both so that her body obscured Guy's view of Marian. Her second, was to tie one of the scarves around Marian's waist so that it would secure the other against the wound. In this endeavour she was aided by Thornton, who'd followed Francesca as soon as he'd seen Winchester make a move and now held Marian up from behind thus freeing Francesca's hands to sort out the makeshift bandage. It was another Locksley servant who offered a cloak to put around Marian and not a moment too soon for Guy was practically upon them as Francesca finished the job and pulled the cloak to the front to cover the parts of the stricken bride Guy should not see.

Marian flashed her a relieved smile…

and then fainted.

"What is wrong with her?" Guy thundered, a suspicious glare directed at the group assembled around the now unconscious lady.

Francesca felt panic grip her once more. Guy could read her so well that if she turned to face him, he would instantly know something was amiss.

Fortunately, Thornton stepped in to give answers where she could not. "I fear it is an attack of nerves Sir Guy…"

"Nerves?"

Francesca shivered at the sceptical tone and busied herself with surreptitiously wiping blood off her hands with the inside of the cloak and tying it so it wouldn't fly open and give the game away.

"Yes, well, as you know she's been having trouble since yesterday and it can't be easy for her without her father here…"

"Is that why you are here?"

At first, Francesca didn't realise that it was her he was addressing, though as he roughly twisted her to face him, she certainly got up to speed.

"Yes, I noticed she was upset."

Not a word of a lie there. A grave omission yes, but no lie.

Guy softened at this. For a moment.

"What did she say to you?" There was that icy glare again and it made Francesca feel as if she were as small as a mouse.

"She collapsed… her legs were gone and I caught her… she asked me to help her…" Francesca was stammering and praying to God that Guy did not find her manner suspicious.

Guy, for his part did not - he put her behaviour down to shock. His suspicion was reserved for another woman; the one he should at this very moment be marrying. "She asked you to help her?"

"Yes, she panicked; it was just before she passed out."

Again, no lie. Francesca didn't want to push her luck though, so she said no more.

Thankfully, Thornton was once more to the rescue, "Sir Guy, you can see she is unwell. Would it not be better to remove her?"

"No."

Guy was digging in his heels, assuming that this was some ploy on Marian's part.

"Well, I can't hold her all day; would it not be better for her to lie down?" Thornton reasoned.

"You can't marry her like this Sir Guy, I mean, look at her…" This came from Thornton's fellow colleague Emily, who'd sprung into action as soon as Marian had collapsed, trying to shield her from gawkers and keep them at bay.

It was these gawkers though, who were now murmuring their agreement, trying to make Guy see sense.

"She's not going anywhere." Guy growled, rising up to full height, his posture a challenge to any who would defy him.

Francesca despaired. If things carried on like this, Marian would bleed out whilst they were still debating.

"Has someone gone to fetch a healer?" Someone from within the crowd of onlookers inquired, effectively reading Francesca's mind.

"I'll go." Francesca offered, mindful that not just any healer would do on this one; they couldn't have whoever tended to her blabbing to Guy or the sheriff.

"No. You stay here." Guy's tone brooked no refusal.

"Well, at least let me get her comfortable then."

Please Guy…

The knight brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and muttering under his breath conceded defeat with a nod.

Emily yelled for everybody to back off whilst Thornton and a volunteer carried Marian to a more secluded spot in the church behind the altar. Francesca was about to follow them, but took a moment to take Emily to one side.

"Fetch Mary Lambert." She whispered.

Emily nodded and was about to leave, but hesitated because there was something she wanted clearing up first, "This isn't a case of wedding nerves is it?"

Francesca looked nervously in Guy's direction before whispering,

"Tell her it's serious."


"What in heaven's name is going on?"

Much was watching the stream of guests departing Locksley church and looked to Robin to see if he knew. His friend is shaking his head, sadly none the wiser.

No bells. No confetti. No cheering from the crowd.

No bride and groom.

This day just keeps getting stranger.

He remembered the light-hearted banter of the early morning as the outlaws had been donning their finery for the sojourn to Nottingham as 'The King Richard Appreciation Society'. Allan and Will had been getting into their respective roles; adopting plummy voices and making the rest of them laugh to distract them from their nerves. It had worked so well that Much almost forgot they were about to embark on a dangerous mission.

He didn't have a problem remembering as someone recognised Robin on the outskirts of Nottingham though. Yes, that sort of thing always brings one swiftly back down to earth doesn't it? and before he knew what he was doing, he was running in the other direction yelling at the guards to draw them away from Robin and the others.

Then, after losing the mob tailing him, he'd been on his way to catch up with the gang at the usual meeting point when he'd run into the king.

Except it wasn't him.

Not even close.

He'd run to tell Robin as fast as his legs would carry him only to find himself very nearly on collision course with Winchester. A quick game of hide and seek later and Much wisely disappeared into the forest to find his master waiting for him with the good news that at least the others had been successful in getting inside the castle.

Problem was, they didn't know that the king is an imposter, i.e. 'The King Richard Appreciation Society' doesn't know that it's not King Richard.

It goes without saying that they need to warn them, but that's easier said than done when you're the most notorious man in Nottingham.

One thing they can do though is stop the wedding. If Marian knew about the king, there's no way she'd go through with it.

Which brings us to the present moment and the confusing scene at Locksley church. Has the wedding happened? Has it not happened? Where is Marian?

They would very much like to know the answers to these questions but just as at the castle, there are guards everywhere, which means they can't just go over and ask somebody.

They continue watching the scene whilst thinking what they might do to get some answers when the priest departs the church in the direction of the vicarage.

Robin smiles.

"Whoever said the Lord doesn't answer our prayers?"