Little John

It was past noon by the time Little John and Will Scarlet left camp for Nettlestone, armed with silver to dispense to the poor.

This was by far John's favourite part about being one of Robin Hood's men. He had been an outlaw for the better part of ten years, taking to Sherwood Forest as a dead man to avoid capture, but it was only upon Robin's arrival just over a year ago that Little John began to appreciate what they could achieve, living outside of the law. The benefits that they could offer the community, taken straight from the pockets of the rich and undeserving, was something that warmed John to the core. He believed in Robin's cause completely, and he loved to see the look on the faces of the poor when they were handed a joint of beef or a purse-full of silver, or anything that would transform their lives, even if only for a short period. Whereas before, John had felt shame and disappointment in himself for being caught stealing and choosing to desert his family rather than accept his punishment - now, he felt that his actions were redeemable, and that, eventually, when his time came, God would forgive him for his misdemeanours because of the good they were doing for the poor. Feeding the needy was a salve to his conscience, and, while it could never replace the family he had lost, it helped him come to terms with the lifestyle he had chosen. And that was the best he could ever hope for.

Little John liked venturing out with Will. The carpenter was sensible and methodical, and only spoke when it was absolutely necessary, which appealed to John's sense of peace. Not that it meant he didn't love the other members of the gang, because he did. But Much could talk the hind leg off a donkey, and trouble seemed to follow both Robin and Allan in equal measures, which, at times, could get quite taxing on the old nerves. It was always nice to go out on an easy drop-off, straight in and straight out, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't end up in the castle dungeons.

He should have known that things wouldn't necessarily go to plan when that magpie had hopped onto his bed this morning. Coming out of the forest onto the old farmers route that lead to Nettlestone, Will put a hand out to stop him and they both paused, watching the group of guards gathered around something further up the track. It was unusual to see anyone on these abandoned back routes, let alone a small convoy of the Sheriff's men. Something was definitely afoot, and it was better that they disappeared before the guards were alerted to their presence.

"Is that— is that Much?" Will said in disbelief. Little John took another look.

It was indeed Much, stood on the track clutching the spoils from his latest hunting trip while the guards interrogated him.

John and Will looked at each other, aghast, and melted quickly back into the bushes, out of sight of the guards.

"What is he doing?" Will was horrified. "Why is he just stood there? They'll hang him, for sure."

Little John shook his head, wearily. And there he was, hoping for a quiet day.

"Come on," he said, grimly. They began to move through the greenwood, inching closer to Much and the guards yet keeping low to avoid detection. But they hadn't gotten very far when Much decided to make a run for it, heading away from them in the direction of Nettlestone.

The guards immediately gave chase.

Will began to run, dodging lightly through the forest, and John raced after him, trying to keep Much in sight. They were focused so intently on the track that they nearly collided with Allan and Roana, who appeared from out of nowhere.

"Oh, thank the Lord!" Roana exclaimed, looking relieved to see them. "We need to rescue Much."

They all looked out onto the track as Much lost his footing and sprawled into the ground. One of the guards was out of his saddle in a flash, hauling Much to his feet by the scruff of his neck.

"You do realise that there are penalties for poaching on the king's land, don't you?" He said, pompously, grabbing the rabbits from Much's grasp and throwing them to one of the other guards.

"What, them?" Much tried to look innocent. "They aren't mine. I found them, over there." He gestured vaguely into the forest. "Just lying there, they were."

"Don't you be lying, now," the guard grabbed him by the lapels, and then paused, scrutinising his face, suspiciously. "Don't I know you?"

"Who, me?" Much gave a fake laugh. "I don't think we've met."

"Yes, we have," the guard growled. "You're one of Robin Hood's men."

Much raised a finger. "Umm, actually.."

The guard shook him, roughly. "There's no actually about it. I recognise your face." He stared at Much, intently. "Where is Lady Roana?"

"Lady who?" Much said, querulously, at the same time as there was a thud behind him.

The guards grip suddenly loosened and his face drained of some of its colour as he stared over Much's right shoulder. Something heavy bounced close to Much's ear and the guard slumped to the ground.

Whipping round, Much came face-to-face with Little John, brandishing his staff and scowling deeply at the rest of the guards. Grinning in relief, Much drew his sword with a flourish and turned to face the guards.

"Get them!" One of them shouted, and the horses surged forward as Allan and Will erupted from the forest on either side. Reaching up, Allan grabbed the nearest guard and pulled him bodily from the saddle. On the other side of the convoy, Will manhandled a guard of his own, using the butt of his small axe against the guard's helmet, which subdued him instantly.

In the ensuing melee of loose horses and grappling men, the outlaws fought valiantly and almost cheerfully, easily overpowering five of the guards. The sixth man, however, had skilfully wheeled his horse away from the commotion, unnoticed by the gang. Turning back to scope out the action, he drew his sword and kicked his mount into a thundering canter, heading straight for Much and Little John.

Allan let out a warning shout, but it was too late. The guard was almost upon Much, sword raised high and ready to fall.

The arrow seemed to come out of nowhere, whistling through the air and slamming straight into the guards arm. With a yelp, he lurched to the side, dropping the sword and tumbling from the saddle, the arrow protruding from his arm.

Will finished off the job with a sharp blow to his head, knocking him out.

Standing amidst the fallen convoy, the outlaws looked to the forest, ready to greet their leader. But it was Roana who stepped from the greenwood with a worried expression on her face, clutching Allan's bow.

"Is everyone okay?"

Little John, Much, Will, and Allan looked at Roana in astonishment.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" Allan said, impressed.

Roana's brow knitted as she gazed at him, then she seemed to remember the bow in her hands. She handed it back to him with a shy smile and shrugged. "Oh. That. My brother taught me when I was young. I guess some things you just never forget."

The men exchanged surprised glances that turned into shrugs of acceptance; after all, Robin had taught her, and he was the best. They began to pick their way over the inert bodies of the guards.

"Anyway, Much," Will said, conversationally. "What did you think you were doing? You could have been caught, or killed!"

"I was rescuing Roana," Much stated, as if it were obvious. "They were looking for her."

Allan paused to pick up the rabbit carcasses that had been dropped in the commotion. "It might have been an idea to tell us first. You just disappeared. We had no clue what was going on."

"Oh, yeah," Much said, thoughtfully. "I didn't think of that."

They all laughed, more from relief than anything else. "Next time," Little John said. "Leave the thinking and the planning to Robin."