Filey Manor, Filey, East Riding of Yorkshire
Roana was crushed. She had assumed that, when her uncle had shown signs of mellowing towards the outlaws, it would include his acceptance of her relationship with Allan, but that didn't appear to be the case. She had not realised how stubborn he could be, but his comments indicated that he would not be welcoming Allan into the family any time soon. It was infuriating. The very fact that women were treated as second-class citizens, as if they didn't know their own minds, had always frustrated her, and, growing up, she had assumed that Robert sympathised and understood. He had allowed her to turn away suitor after suitor over the years, content to allow her to follow her heart and make her own decisions. Yet now, when she had met someone she truly loved and wanted to be with, he had become stern and uncompromising.
She knew that they needed to have a conversation, preferably alone, so she could explain her feelings as succinctly as possible and hopefully bring him around to her way of thinking. But, until then, she had to clear her head.
She felt like crying. In Nottingham, her relationship with Allan had been so easy, and had filled her with such joy. But now, back in Filey, her mind was clouded with doubts and confusion. She loved Allan; there was no question about that. She wouldn't give him up, but she didn't want to lose her family in the process. And Robert was making things very difficult for her.
Falling behind as Robin steered Robert towards the gang, she picked up her skirts and, giving Allan an apologetic smile, hurried in the opposite direction, making her way to the stables. She hadn't visited her horse, Pilgrim, since their return the previous day, and was curious to learn how she had fared in Roana's absence. Pilgrim had been with her for the past ten years, ever since Roana had helped to hand-rear her after her dam had died in childbirth. The mare had been her closest companion, providing comfort and a non-judgemental ear to her woes over the years, and it seemed only natural to enter the horse barn, her heart heavy, and head for Pilgrim's stall.
Roana called her name and there came a delighted whicker and the rustle of straw before Pilgrim's bay head appeared over the half-door, the white stripe bright in the gloom of the barn as she looked in Roana's direction. Roana felt a little of the tension leave her shoulders at the enthusiastic greeting. The love of an animal for a person was always heartwarming to witness, especially for the person on the receiving end.
Reaching the stall, Roana cupped the mare's muzzle in her hands and planted a kiss on the soft velvet of her nose. Pilgrim lipped at her palms and, finding no treats, nudged Roana, leaving a streak of chewed hay on the blue of the dress.
"Oops! My uncle will not be pleased." Roana gave a dry laugh as she looked down at herself, but it turned into a sob and, suddenly, tears spilled from her eyes. She put her arms around Pilgrim's neck and buried her face in the mare's black mane, allowing herself a moment to cry quietly, while Pilgrim stood, patiently, chewing on her mouthful of hay.
"Ro?" Allan arrived so silently that she didn't hear him until he was stood behind her, a hand outstretched, awkwardly unsure of what to do.
"Oh!" Roana straightened and quickly wiped her cheeks with her fingers, drying them on her skirt before she turned to him, aware that tears made most men uncomfortable. Aware that tears made her uncomfortable.
She smiled, wanly, avoiding his eyes. "I just needed a moment."
"There are no moments that don't involve the two of us," Allan said, and gathered her into his arms, stroking her cascade of nut-brown hair as she lay her head on his shoulder.
Roana sighed, deeply, and wrapped her arms around his waist. When she spoke, her voice was low and filled with emotion. "That was surprisingly poetic, A Dale."
Allan laughed. "I know. I was quite proud of it too."
They lapsed into silence for a moment, embracing tightly, before Pilgrim grew bored and nudged Allan sharply in the small of his back, jerking them both, roughly.
"Ouch," he said, wryly. "I don't think your horse likes me."
Roana laughed, despite herself, and raised her head to look at him. "She does. She just has a strange way of showing it."
Allan raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Oh, really? Story of my life."
"Not anymore," Roana said, pertly, and kissed him, firmly.
"Not anymore," he agreed, and kissed her back, gently, cupping her cheek in one hand and stroking her jawline with his thumb.
Pulling away slightly so he could look into her eyes, he paused before posing his question. "What are we going to do, Ro?"
She answered from the heart, knowing exactly what he was referring to, and knowing exactly what she wanted. "We will help save the house and the farm, and then we will leave. Together."
Allan regarded her for a moment, finding the sincerity in her gaze, and kissed her again, soundly, before lifting her up and spinning her around in joy. Roana laughed, tears forgotten as she clung onto him. Over his shoulder, through the rear door of the barn and out across the fields, her attention was caught by a flash of colour, the gleam of metal catching the sun, and she was suddenly alert.
"Allan, there's somebody out there."
Startled, Allan set her down and swung around, hand on the hilt of his sword. Roana moved to stand beside him, pointing.
"Look. Riders, passing through the fields."
"Bridlington," Allan growled. "We need to find Robin."
Filey, East Riding of Yorkshire
Vaisey, Sheriff of Nottingham, was in a cheerfully insufferable mood, and had been for most of the morning. Since leaving Bridlington, he had amused himself by berating both his cousin and Gisborne for the entire journey. There was no particular reason for his unbearable behaviour; he merely enjoyed it.
It rarely occurred to Vaisey that his conduct did not earn him many friends. He simply did not care what anybody thought of him, and made a habit of speaking his mind. He displayed an ignorance for the feelings of the people around him, a trait that was often apparent in men of his stature. He hadn't clawed his way up the ranks by being nice to people, after all. He reveled in the fact that he was feared and loathed in equal measures, and it gave him great pleasure to have such power over others that they allowed him to act as despicably as possible without recrimination.
He was looking forward to the day's proceedings, having listened with barely concealed glee to Bridlington's planned actions once they arrived at Filey Manor. He didn't quite understand it - all this fuss over a leper - but who was he to stand in the way of an unauthorised burning? Prince John would be furious, but Vaisey hadn't bothered to mention that. Let Bridlington find out for himself, and, by then, Vaisey would be firmly back in Prince John's good books.
Vaisey sighed, happily, and looked out of the window at the passing countryside. It had all looked pretty much the same since they had set off from Bridlington; on one side, the sea, and on the other, a neverending tapestry of green with the occasional cluster of buildings.
Vaisey missed Nottingham. He missed the castle, and his creature comforts. He even missed the annoying town folk, and his idiotic garrison, who, at times, had the intelligence of a particularly stupid ox. However, he was intent on making his way to Scarborough and winning his way back into Prince John's favour. And if that meant setting his cousin up for a fall, then so be it.
"We're nearly there," Bridlington announced, peering out of the carriage window.
"How can you tell? Everything looks the same," Vaisey retorted, and grinned at Gisborne, who barely smirked in return. His little leper sat beside him, huddled into his side, gazing at Vaisey, wide-eyed.
Vaisey rolled his eyes. Gisborne had been in an odd mood for the past few days, and it was becoming tiring. It probably had something to do with his leper. Gisborne wasn't good with women. He got attached far too quickly, and then sank into depression when his feelings weren't reciprocated. He had made a complete fool of himself over Marian, moping around the castle for weeks after she had jilted him at the altar. Mind you, this new girl appeared to like him, but she obviously saw him as a meal ticket and a fast track out of servitude, Vaisey thought, disparagingly.
The carriage came to a halt, and Bridlington leapt up, startling Vaisey, who glared at him. They were outside a large and sturdy wooden gate, reinforced with metal. Beyond it lay a long track that lead through trees and bushes, winding to the left and out of sight. To the left of the trees and across sloping moorland, the roof of a house could be seen, surrounded by barns and farmland. A tall, sturdily-built wooden fence separated them from the land.
"So, this is it, hmm?" Vaisey stepped out of the carriage and looked around, unimpressed. "Filey Manor."
"Yes." Bridlington's expression was one of disappointment as he surveyed the gate, which was clearly a new addition. "But we can't get in."
"So, we've come all of this way and you're going to let a little fence stop you?" Vaisey scoffed. "Oh, come on, Bridlington. Where's your fighting spirit? Where's the fire in your belly?"
Bridlington looked at him, uncomprehendingly, for a moment, and Vaisey fancied he could see the sea breeze blowing in one ear and straight out of the other with no obstruction whatsoever. And then, as it dawned on him as to what Vaisey was referring to, his face lit up.
"You there!" He gestured to two of his accompanying guards, and then pointed at the fence. "Set light to this. Let's burn our way in."
"My lord Sheriff." Gisborne had stepped from the carriage, and was glowering at Bridlington. He crossed to the fence and placed his hand on the top of it, attempting to shake it. "This is good, solid cedar wood. It will take hours to burn through it. We don't have the time."
"Good point, Gisborne," Vaisey said, thoughtfully. "Do we have an axe instead?"
Gisborne's little leper gave an audible gasp, and Vaisey turned to raise his eyebrows at her. She subdued immediately, but looked stricken. Gisborne really knew how to pick them, Vaisey thought, darkly. Gisborne put a hand on her arm and she moved behind him, out of the way. Vaisey pretended to ignore the glare Gisborne sent his way, and turned away, shelving it to mull over at a later date. Potential dissent in the ranks was something he constantly kept an eye out for, and Gisborne was skating on very thin ice just lately.
An axe was found, and a guard was ordered to chop through the fence. Vaisey bounced from foot to foot in barely suppressed glee as he watched from the sidelines, and clapped his hands together as the guard raised his arm for the first blow. The spectators held their breath.
An arrow slammed into the fence just beneath the guard's nose. He jumped back in shock, dropping the axe and stumbling over a tuft of grass, falling backwards, his face a mask of fear.
"Not today, Vaisey," came a disembodied voice, and Vaisey gave a sharp intake of breath.
"Hood! What are you doing here?"
"What do you think I'm doing here?" Hood's voice came from somewhere within the trees to the side of the track on the other side of the gate. "I'm protecting my family. And, before you get any ideas..." Four more arrows appeared, fired one after the other from different directions; one impaled itself in the door of the carriage to Vaisey's left, one hit the ground to the right of the assembled group, one thunked straight into the shield of a guard, and a final arrow ended up in the ground at Bridlington's feet, quivering with the force of it's impact. "I'm not alone."
"Show yourself, Hood, you coward!" Gisborne shouted, stepping forward instinctively only to be pulled back by his leper.
"You don't need to see me, Gisborne," came the reply. "Just as long as you can hear me. And Bridlington, this applies to you, too."
Bridlington bristled, puffing his chest out and stalking forwards a few steps. "What is the meaning of this? I demand to be allowed access, by order of the Sheriff of Yorkshire."
There came laughter from the trees inside the gate. Bridlington looked outraged; Vaisey and Gisborne both glanced at him and smothered smirks.
"Funny you should say that, Bridlington, because we have it on good authority that your father doesn't even know you're here, and he wouldn't be very happy to learn of it. Now, run along like a good boy."
Bridlington had gone bright red in the face. "Look, this can all be ended quite easily. Just send Roana out and then we will be on our way."
Hood fell silent, and there came the far-off sound of intense discussion, carried towards them in scraps on the sea breeze.
"That's not gonna happen, Bridlington," a different voice shouted, coarser and angrier. "Your betrothal is over. I'm not being funny but you need to move on."
Vaisey turned to Gisborne. "Your boy?" he said, sharply. Gisborne shrugged.
"Vaisey?" Hood's voice came again. "I suggest you take your two lapdogs and leave. If you stay, I can't be held responsible for what happens. But know this - I'm prepared to fight to the death for my family, and I can guarantee it won't be my death. It's entirely up to you. But I'm going to count to ten, and if you haven't left by the time I finish... well, I'll leave that to your imagination. What's it going to be, Vaisey?"