CHAPTER TWENTY

A fierce battle raged in the heart of Sherwood Forest.

The glade echoed with the harsh and frantic clack of heavy oak staves, the symphony of staccato raps rolling over the clearing in a nonstop percussive assault. The two adversaries refused to yield any quarter to each other, leaning into the confrontation with gritted fangs and intent gazes. Back and forth they battled across their wooded arena, pressing and retreating and surging forward again as they parried and swung their staffs with deadly expertise, neither content to let the other best them. The stakes were just too high ...

"Auch, they're good, aren't they?" Kluck remarked, looking on in admiration.

"Young Will certainly can hold his own with a quarterstaff," added Bettina, "although Sir Robin ain't no slouch himself ... "

"They're not bad, for amateurs," Little John said, "although there's still a thing or two I could show each of them."

The three spectators sat up in the low branches of a spreading rowan that bordered one edge of the glade; it was the only safe vantage, since the furiously dueling fox cousins ranged from one end of the campsite to the other in their dogged determination to keep their contest going as long as possible. Any unenlightened onlooker might easily have assumed them to be mortal enemies instead of fond relatives, the way they chased each other up and down hillocks and rocks, jumped up onto tables and benches and tree stumps, all without abating in their parries, swings and thrusts. Surely no battle-hardened knights could have provided so thrilling an exhibition.

Into the midst of this two-fox melee intruded a third unexpected and unsuspecting figure, emerging from the dark recesses of the waterfall cave. Alan-a-Dale stepped from the shadows into the afternoon sunshine ... and nearly had his lute smashed to splinters by Will's quarterstaff.

Robin responded with his accustomed split-second archer's reactions, stepping back and lowering his staff while calling out to Will to do the same. "Whoa, hold your wood there, Will! You almost got Alan's gizzard just now!"

Recovering his wits after the near-assault, Alan beamed at the younger fox. "Why, Billy the Red! Didn't think I'd be findin' you here!"

Will leaned on his stave. "Oh, there's never any telling where I'll show up, you old featherduster! And call me 'Billy the Red' one more time, and I'll be wishing I really did give you a smack or two ... "

The rooster strutted into the glade two more paces, then froze at the sight of Lady Kluck nestled on a tree limb alongside Bettina, regarding him with adoring eyes. "Oh, uh, did I come at a bad time?"

Robin grinned. "I'm sure Klucky's happy to see you too. Now, let's have a peek at what you brought us - hopefully some good grub in that sack over your shoulder, to go with some good news from Nottinghamshire. It's been quite a few days since you were last here, and we've all been waiting for the latest word from town."

Trying his best to ignore the amorous hen, Alan strode further into the clearing while everyone gathered around him. Will relieved the minstrel of his haversack, and wasted no time in setting it on the ground and sticking his snout into its top to drool over the contents. "Sparring like that sure does build up an appetite ... "

"I think you'll find the grub as good as any ol' Tuck an' I've ever been able to rustle up for you," Alan said. "We've convinced three of the farmers on the outskirts of Nottingham to donate a portion of their crops to us - includin' the one whose scarecrow you redecorated. He got a chuckle out of that, at least, even if the Sheriff didn't. But as for th' rest of the news, 'fraid it might not be so much to your liking ... "

Robin looked at Alan with concern. "Nothing's happen to Tuck, has it? I can't help but notice you came back alone ... "

"Oh, that badger was fine 'n' dandy when we parted ways. He just wanted to stay in Nottingham to keep an eye on th' situation there while I reported back to you."

"Well, that's a relief," said Little John. "So, what's this bad news of yours?"

"It appears," the rooster replied, "that there's a new sheriff in town. He wanted me to tell you that himself, Rob, in those exact words, just to make sure you knew it. A rather disagreeable sort who calls himself Sir Guy of Gisbourne."

Both Robin's and Little John's eyes went wide. "Sir ... Guy of Gisbourne?" the archer fox echoed hollowly.

The others couldn't help but notice their leader's reaction to this name. Thus far, Robin and Little John had kept the vision of Marian, and the warning she'd borne, between just the two of them. "Someone you know, cuz?" Will inquired, finding something to interest him more than the food sack.

Robin turned and slowly walked over to a mossy log bench, seating himself on it. The others followed, concerned mystification on their faces; never before had they seen the bold outlaw so quickly deflated in his manner and bearing, as if a huge weight had just been set upon his shoulders. To Kluck and Bettina, he looked almost like he did the day he'd lost Marian.

"There's something I must tell you all. The night we heard the news that King John had run back to London, Marian visited me in a vision. She warned me of this Gisbourne ... told me to beware of him. Apparently, if I'm not careful, he's fated to kill me."

In spite of his somber demeanor, these last words came out in such an offhanded way, as if Robin were remarking upon the weather, that it took Will, Bettina, Alan and Kluck several moments to fully appreciate the gravity of this revelation. Only Little John, who'd previously known of Marian's spectral warning about Gisbourne, understood before Robin even spoke how dire this turn of events was.

Will finally broke the silence. "Well, that's quite something to be hit with. Just about enough to ruin a chap's day, ain't it?"

"Well, we're not gonna let it happen!" Bettina avowed. "We'll just ... just ... " The otter laundress let her voice trail off, realizing she didn't have a clue what any of them could do about this matter.

Robin picked up the thought for her. "It's a safe bet that Gisbourne is hearing a great deal about me from everyone he's talking to in Nottingham, so it's only fair that we return the favor and learn as much about him as we can. Alan, we'll start with you. What can you tell us about him?"

"Well, he's a black panther, maybe half a head shorter than Little John, and only half as wide, too, if you get my meaning. That cat's all muscle. Very well spoken, too. He and I traded pleasantries just before I left the castle. If ever there was a beast who'd kill his own mother without batting an eye, he's it. Oddly enough, word has it that he loyally served King Richard during the Crusades."

"He was a knight under Richard?" Robin asked with obvious surprise. "I can't imagine any honest warrior who'd turn his back on chivalry to become an enforcer for King John. And I certainly don't recall Richard ever mentioning anyone named Guy of Gisbourne during any of our talks about his adventures."

"Could be Richard didn't consider Gisbourne worth mentioning," Little John suggested. "Maybe Sir Guy likes to overstate his own importance during those campaigns."

"Hmm. Or maybe Richard deemed Gisbourne's actions during the Crusades too shameful for civilized ears." Robin turned to Alan again. "Perhaps you could shed a little light on something that's been puzzling us ... " He proceeded to tell Alan-a-Dale about the dead royal captain they'd found along the roadside.

"Oh, no secret there," Alan said. "Gisbourne and his brigade marched into the place two evenings ago, and by yesterday morn, word of that incident had spread throughout the castle. Seems our panther friend took his squad the long way around to come to Nottingham from the north. Must've been hoping for an early meeting with you, Rob. Anyways, the captain of his squad tried to assassinate Gisbourne when they were passing through Sherwood. No one knows why. Gisbourne slew him on the spot, easy as you please ... or so everyone was sayin'."

"Well, that clears up that mystery," Robin sighed. "And I can attest to the fact that that wolf was slain with his own blade. Gisbourne must be as fast as he is strong. But if that captain tried to kill Sir Guy, there's a good chance he was acting on the king's orders. Which begs the question, why would King John order the death of the one he's sent to take care of me?"

"Maybe it was his way of keeping Gisbourne on a tight leash, and things didn't go as planned?" Will speculated

"If that's true," said Little John, "then there's nothing holding Sir Guy in check now ... except for the Earl."

"The Earl's paws are tied," the rooster informed them. "The king's orders grant Gisbourne the authority to run wild over all of Nottingham, and he hasn't wasted any time in doing just that ... " Alan shared what he'd seen about the increased security at the castle, from bolstered sentries to the sign-in book.

"He's bottling that place up tight, isn't he?" Little John surmised.

"Oh, I hope Flo's gonna be awright," Bettina worried. "What if he 'spects she helped us put the castle to sleep?"

"It's not just Florence," Robin reminded them. "There's Skippy, and Avery, and the Earl himself, and everyone in between. If that panther gets it into his head that the court is full of traitors, he could mount an inquisition that targets everyone there, whether they helped us or not."

"And once he's finished there, he'll turn his attention outward," picked up Little John. "To Nottingham, and all the peasants."

"We're not gonna let him get away with any of this, are we?" Will challenged. "If he wants a fight, I say we give it to him, in spades!"

Robin waved a paw his cousin's way. "Settle down, Will. We can't even think of a fight until we've seen and heard a lot more. Alan, is Tuck in any danger?"

"He didn't seem to be when I left him, but that was some time ago - it's quite a trek through the forest to get here from the center of Nottingham, y'know. But it was his decision to stay behind to see what he could do there."

"Hm. Sometimes I think our dear Tuck is too kind and caring for his own good. I just hope he's got the sense to stay clear of Gisbourne. One thing's for sure: We need to go there ourselves to get a better idea what our next step will be."

"Hope you've got yourself a disguise in mind that tops even Simple Simon," said Little John, "'cos if Gisbourne so much as sniffs that you're anywhere near Nottingham, he'll go all-out to get you, Rob."

"Then let me go," Will offered. "The Sheriff never gleaned onto the fact that I was part of your band back when - I can be your secret weapon! What're they gonna do, arrest me on grounds of being a fox who's not Robin Hood?"

"From what we know of Gisbourne," Little John cautioned, "I wouldn't put it past him to do exactly that. This isn't a game, Will."

"Then send me instead," Kluck said. "I'm not a fox, an' nae on Sir Guy's most wanted list either, I wager. I'll be able to move more freely than anyone here."

"We can't leave Tuck high and dry, that's for sure." Little John looked to Robin. "Someone's gotta go, and you, me 'n' Tina are pretty much out of the question. That cuts down our choices quite a bit."

"Okay, let me give this some thought - not only about who goes, but what we want them to do once they're there. Do we pull Tuck out and all fall back here to see if we can wait out Gisbourne, do we keep close watch over Nottingham and help those we can, or do we go on the offensive? A lot of that will be depend on what Sir Guy does, so in the meantime ... " Robin nodded toward the sack of food Alan had delivered. "Let's get a meal in our bellies and worry about the rest after we've had dessert!"

00000000000

"Is this the best map you have?"

Guy of Gisbourne stood in the spacious quarters the Earl had assigned him as both bedchamber and office, regarding the map hanging on the wall that the Sheriff had provided him that morning. The oversized parchment, nearly as wide as the panther could spread his arms, depicted in colorful fashion the entire county of Nottingham, the main town as well as its hamlets and all the surrounding countryside. The Sheriff looked on in puzzlement at Sir Guy's dissatisfied tone.

"Why, sure, there's no better map you'll find anywhere in this castle or the town beyond. It's got all the settlements, the roads, the farms ... what more could you want?"

Gisbourne pointed in disdain. "And Sherwood Forest is nothing but a huge green splotch. The only feature shown in that entire vast area is the King's Highway. None of the smaller roads, no paths, no lakes or rivers or streams, no glens or clearings or meadows or cliffs or bogs ... why, I'll bet it's not even drawn anywhere near to its proper scale, or within its exact boundaries. All of which makes it useless to me!"

"But, nobody lives in Sherwood Forest!"

Gisbourne leveled a hard stare at the wolf. "Nobody except the very outlaw I journeyed all the way here from London to capture and kill. That woodland is practically a small county of its own, and Robin Hood could be hiding anywhere within it. I am aghast that no better effort was ever made to map that territory. No wonder our bandit friend has been able to elude the authorities for so long, laughing at us from a hideaway he knows we'll likely never find!"

"Well, uh ... are you sayin' we oughta make a survey of it now?"

"No, my good Sheriff, I do not plan to tarry here the many months that such a task would require to be done properly. But Robin Hood is in there somewhere - " Sir Guy stabbed a claw-unsheathed finger at the heart of Sherwood on the inadequate map, " - and if he does not come to me, sooner or later I must take the battle to him, where he lives."

"So, what do we do to draw him out?" the Sheriff asked.

"That is what we must decide, isn't it? He has in the past certainly shown a tendency for poking his head out of his forest fortress when it suits his purpose. Oh, if only I had been here the night he'd made his failed attempt on the king's life! He cannot have had any advance warning of my coming to Nottingham, but now that I am here, you can bet he will soon know of my presence, if he doesn't already ... and I am willing to wager that he will be most curious about having a look at this strange knight who has come to challenge him. We will see him, Sheriff - of this I am certain."

Gisbourne started for his chamber door, beckoning for his partner in law enforcement to follow. "But, we must not allow Robin Hood to learn too much about me, or else he will never remain curious enough to come investigate me for himself. It is a beautiful day, Sheriff. Let us go for a walk through your precinct. I have taken the measure of things here in the castle; now it is time to do the same for the town around it."

00000000000

Friar Tuck was, that very same afternoon, staked out in the Greenleaf Tavern, negotiating with the barkeep Stephold between customers over what assistance in the form of food and drink the boar might be able to lend Robin Hood ... and what assistance he could expect in return if he should ever need to call upon the archer fox in time of need. The negotiations were stubborn ones, and not only because of the constant interruptions from thirsty patrons and Tuck's desire to keep their discussion from unwelcome ears, but also due to Stephold's very attitude.

"I dunno, Friar," the boar said. "Sure, th' Sheriff's taxed me over this Robin Hood business, just like ev'ryone else hereabouts, but I'm still makin' a decent living. Fact is, his guards are some o' my best customers, an' long as some o' the money he's takin' from me ends up back in my purse through them, I'll have no trouble gettin' by. Now, if I go an' help out Robin Hood, an' the Sheriff catches wind of it, then I get to see the inside of a cell, an' that won't help anyone, least of all me."

"Oh? How long do you think your plentiful times will last with this Gisbourne in Nottingham now?" Tuck countered. "From what I've heard, he's hell-bent on bringing in Robin, and he'll crack down on everyone to make that happen!"

"All the more reason to keep my snout clean," Stephold returned. "It's bad enough that Robin and his otter lass Tina were staying here during that last bit o' trouble we had, an' I ain't lookin' to invite any more through my doors."

No sooner had he spoken these words than the tavern's front door swung wide, and in sauntered the Sheriff himself, followed by several of his soldiers. The portly wolf quite literally bellied up to the bar, favoring Friar Tuck with a glare of utter disdain. "Howdy, Steph! Not associatin' with wrong elements here, are ya?"

"The Friar's just on his way out," Stephold explained, "now that I've made it clear that he'll not get a free flagon of ale outta my stocks."

This brought a heartless smile to the Sheriff's face. "Aw, now ain't that a sorrowful state! How's it feel t' be without a farthing to yer name, Friar?"

Tuck forced a smile and spread his paws. "The charity of others shall be my boat upon troubled waters and sustain me."

The Sheriff sneered. "Whoever's givin' you charity better not let me catch 'em doin' it, or I'll jail 'em fer aidin' 'n' abettin' beggary! An' mayhaps I'll toss you in chains too just fer good measure!"

"And a good day to you too, sir!" Tuck said with a clearly insincere grimace, and made for the exit. His purpose here with Stephold had hardly been accomplished, but he preferred not risk the Sheriff's presence one moment longer than necessary, in case the law-wolf decided to arrest him on a whim.

In the street outside the tavern, Tuck found another dozen or so of the Sheriff's hooded guards standing about, waiting on their master. Seeking to avoid them, the badger made a quick left and then another, to take him into an alleyway between the Greenleaf and a small weapons shop ... and then he stopped short, finding his path barred by the black panther who stood there leaning with one paw against the tavern wall and legs crossed, tail slowly swishing back and forth.

"Going somewhere, my good Mr. Tuck? You seem to be in an awful hurry ... "

Tuck started to back up, but realized to his dismay that several of the guards had moved to block the alley. "Um, just enjoying this fine day. Last I checked, taking a stroll through public streets was no crime."

"These streets belong to the king," Gisbourne said, "which means that they also belong to me. And as for crimes, strolling might not be one - " he reached out and plucked idly at Tuck's brown robe, " - but impersonating a member of the church certainly is. I was given to understand that you were excommunicated by the Archbishop. I should hope you're still not trying to pass yourself off as clergy."

"The spirit that dwells in the hearts of the honest obeys not the commands of those who dwell in palaces, or who think they know the intent of God better than do the truly pious."

"Hmm. Sounds to me like you're skirting dangerously close to heresy there." Gisbourne looked past Tuck. "What say you, Sheriff?"

"Ah'm all fer arrestin' him if you are, Sir Guy."

Gisbourne studied the badger before him as if examining an offensive speck of dirt. "No, I don't think that will be necessary, Sheriff. At least not today. But we shall have to keep a close eye on this one, won't we? A very close eye indeed." He stepped around Tuck, strolling to the end of the alley to join the wolf. But as he did so, four of the guards detached themselves from the main group and strode forward to form a close cordon around the surprised badger. "Come along, Sheriff, we still have much more of the town to cover ... "

"Um, er, uh ... aren't you forgetting something?" Tuck sputtered, gesturing toward the four guards.

Gisbourne turned and deliberately paced back toward Tuck until they were nearly snout to whisker. "Oh, no, not at all. Did I forget to mention? These four are now your permanent escort. From this moment henceforth they will be at your side, as close as your shadow and never more than an arm's-reach away from you. They will go wherever you go, inside Nottingham and out. They will know every place you visit, every person you speak with, and every action you take. Which means that I will know it as well. Now, please do enjoy your stay in our fair town for as long as you like ... or feel free to take a stroll in the woods, all the way to Robin Hood's lair. Just remember that your four new best friends here will be going with you."

Friar Tuck was left standing there, ringed in by the quartet of guards, utterly at a loss as Gisbourne and the Sheriff walked away with the rest of their troops. "You ... you can't do this!" he called after them in protest, red-faced.

"I just did," Gisbourne snapped off, and then he was gone.

Out on the main concourse, the wolf said to the panther, "You sure it wouldn't've been easier just arrestin' that busybody?"

"There can be almost no doubt that Tuck has helped Robin Hood in the past, and will probably seek to do so again," Sir Guy replied. "If we throw him in a cell, we gain nothing. This way, he is free to wander as he pleases and meet with whomever he will. He may be tempted to try to make contact with Robin Hood or others from the outlaw band, or they may try to approach him, and if that happens, we will know it. Failing this, we have at the very least cut him off from our enemy, so that Hood will no longer be able to use Tuck for gathering information. He is as neutralized as if we had him in chains in our dungeons - and far more useful too, if his activities betray some of his accomplices to us."

The Sheriff arched a woolly eyebrow. "You are a crafty one, aren'tcher? But, what if he manages t' shake off his escort an' escape t' Sherwood?"

"Then he is a better badger than I give him credit for."