Having safely escorted Matilda back to her cottage, Robin and Much continued leading Isabella toward Nottingham.
"I don't know why you had to blindfold me and not her," Isabella complained, though she'd long since shed her blindfold.
"She's a friend," Robin answered tartly.
Much finished his master's thought. "And you're not," he told her, and he meant it to sting.
Isabella ignored him. "I can locate your camp, you know," she boasted, trying to goad Robin into some kind of reaction. So far, except for the three words he had just spoken, he had ignored her the entire journey. "I walked back and forth between it and your bathing pond," she continued, "so all I need to do is find the pond, and you're finished, Robin Hood."
"Ha!" Much exclaimed, after first panicking for a moment. "You'll be caught in one of Will's traps, if you get anywhere near the pond! I've been caught myself, more than once I might add, and I know where all the traps are! So go ahead and try to find us, I say!"
They arrived at the meadow, where Isabella wished to tarry. If only Robin would dismiss that annoying idiot Lot, she was sure she could tempt him. At least she would try. She sank gracefully down upon the flower strewn grass, saying, "You must allow me to rest! I cannot go another step."
Robin welcomed the opportunity to try one final time to persuade her to tell him where King Richard was. He'd promised Marian he would do so the entire way back to Nottingham, but so far, he had been too furious toward Isabella to even look at her, let alone carry on a discussion. Leaning on his bow, he peered down at her, and began. "Alright, Isabella. Instead of me trying to coerce you, why don't you tell me what it will take on my part to get you tell me what I want to know?"
"Where your precious Richard is, you mean? I'll admit, I do know where he's being held, unless Prince John's had him moved, or he's succumbed to starvation. But I doubt he's dead...yet. We would know, wouldn't we? Bells would be ringing out their joyful peel, announcing to all England, 'Long live King John!' "
"Your anthem already," Robin snarled. "But at least you admit you know where he is. So, Isabella, what do I need to do to persuade you to share that knowledge with me?"
He looked so tempting, and she was enjoying this game with him. Wishing to prolong it, she began slowly massaging her feet. "You were cruel, Robin, not allowing me shoes. My poor feet! At least we're out of the forest. The meadow grass is a pleasure to walk upon." She stopped rubbing her feet and sank further down, lying upon her back. "Mmm, such a comfortable spot! So much softer than that bunk in your camp!"
"Is she going to nap here now?" Much complained. "Unbelievable!"
"You remember, Robin," Isabella continued, her voice seductive, "how soft it is to lie here. Though there was nothing soft about you! You were harder than a rock that day, as I recall."
"You can forget it, Isabella," Robin told her, angrily. "What else do you want? My offer to protect you still stands."
"Protect her?" Much exploded. "Robin, she tried to kill Marian!"
"Marian told me to do whatever it takes, Much," Robin tried to explain.
"Mmm," Isabella said, slowly licking her lips. "Then what are you waiting for? You clearly have your wife's permission. Dismiss your servant, and come enjoy me. You know you want to. Despite all your denials, you and I both know how well I pleased you that day."
Robin strode a few steps away and pulled a purple flower up by its roots. "Is this what you used to poison my wife?" he demanded.
"Temper, temper," Isabella teased. "You look so sexy when you're angry. Let me soothe all that nasty tension away. I'll leave you limp and exhausted, but oh so happy when I've taken my fill of you, Robin Hood."
"Is she...is she trying to seduce you, Robin?" Much asked. "You're married! And to Marian!" He stared angrily down at Isabella. "You are revolting!"
The sound of a dog barking made Isabella turn pale and rise to her feet. Terrified, she grasped Robin's arm.
"It's only a dog," he said, disgusted by her and her cowardice.
"It sounds like...like Wulf," she said, trembling.
"Woof, woof!" laughed Much, though he was somewhat frightened of dogs as well.
The dog, a huge mastiff with slobbering jowls and sharp gleaming fangs, broke through the trees at a furious pace to run straight toward Isabella.
"Help me," she cried, gripping Robin's arm so hard it hurt him. "It is Wulf! Shoot him!"
Without thinking, Robin flipped his bow over his wrist and scooped Isabella up into his arms, then raced toward a giant oak. Lifting her above his head, he told her to grab hold of the lowest hanging branch and pull herself to safety. Once free of her, he jumped to reach the branch himself and pulled himself up. Lying on his belly along the branch, he reached a hand down to help Much up, but the dog clamped his jaws onto Much's backside, tearing his trousers while attempting to force him to the ground.
Much pulled out his sword and swung it backwards, trying but failing to slice the dog's throat.
The dog trailed a leather lead attached to its collar. Within seconds, Robin had its lead pinned to the ground by an arrow.
"Are you alright?" he asked Much, leaping to the ground and tying the dog's lead to the trunk of the tree, then replacing the arrow in his quiver.
"I hate dogs!" Much wailed. "Especially huge, vicious ones!"
"You like dogs, Much," Robin reminded him. "Most of them. They're kind, loyal, they follow you anywhere, they like to eat..."
"You don't have to spell it out! I get it! Why don't you add, 'They bark all the time and never shut up?' "
"Do they? I never noticed."
"Very funny!"
Robin's mood had definitely improved with the adventure. He didn't want to admit it, but Isabella had fired his blood, both from anger and desire. He hated feeling that way, disloyal to the wife he adored and was completely devoted to. He would never have given in to Isabella, but he couldn't help remembering how she had made his body respond to her expert touch one time before.
Isabella remained on the tree branch, shaking in fear while the dog jumped and snarled at her.
"You know this monster?" Robin asked her.
"He belongs to my husband," Isabella answered, her voice weak.
As if on cue, a tall, thin man in his early forties stepped from the forest.
"Isabella," he said coldly. "We meet again. And you dressed in next to nothing, with two men, I see."
Robin had never seen her so frightened. Always before, she had faked her fear, panting as though to allure him. She was not panting now, for she could barely catch her breath.
"My husband, Thornton," she said, introducing him.
"Thornton?" Much cried. "He's not Thornton!"
"I assure you it's my name," the man said. In spite of his fine clothing, no one could call him handsome, with a narrow face like a greyhound's and an extremely high forehead. He did not impress one as being cruel, the way Guy of Gisbourne did. His cruelty was more like the sheriff's... hidden. But Isabella had felt its sting for seventeen years.
"Well, then," Robin said, not meaning what he was about to say, but using it to get what he wanted. "Much, it looks like our job of escorting Lady Thornton back to Nottingham is over. Goodbye, Isabella." He and Much turned and began walking away.
"Don't go!" Isabella shrieked, terrified.
Her husband began unwrapping his dog's lead from around the tree. He couldn't wait to turn the dog on his wife.
Robin stopped. Without turning back, he tried to make a deal. "I'll protect you, Isabella, if you tell me where the king is."
Isabella thought quickly. "He's in Aggstein Castle," she lied, naming the castle Prince John had chosen for his brother's captivity, rather than where Duke Leopold actually held him, in Durnstein Castle.
"And where, specifically, is that?" Robin asked, hiding the elation he felt under a calm demeanor.
"It's on the Danube River, more than 200 miles west of Vienna. Until recently, it was part of Bavaria."
"Bavaria!" Robin couldn't help saying.
"Don't we know somebody from there?" Much asked, trying to remember.
"We know a lot of people," Robin reminded him, having fought alongside Christian crusaders from France, Austria, and Germany. "But I think I know who you mean, Much." Turning to address Isabella, he said, "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it? Alright, Isabella, what do you want me to do to your husband?"
"Murder him," she said, seething.
"You know I don't kill."
Thornton was about to finish untying his dog's lead from around a tree. "Harm me, and Wulf will rip your throat out." Rather than finishing what he'd begun, he simply undid the lead from the dog's collar, freeing him. "Get them!" he ordered, and Wulf raced toward the outlaws.
Robin did not want to kill, but he had no choice. His arrow split the dog's throat, just as the beast was about to pounce on Much.
The dog seemed to hang suspended in the air, then fell to the ground with a thud.
Much held his own throat, unable to speak. At last he said, "Unbelievable! He almost got me at both ends."
"You're outnumbered," Robin told Thornton. "So get out of here."
"You destroyed my property, and I'm sure you've had my wife. Who are you? You shall pay dearly."
"We are Robin Hood," Much proclaimed proudly.
"I suggest you go," Robin added, "unless you want an arrow in your throat, too."
"Swords, not arrows," Thornton said. "And only one of you. Fight me for my wife, if you think she's worth it. You'll learn soon enough, she's not."
"Oh, we know," Much told him. He also knew that Robin would welcome a fight.
Isabella watched as Robin and the husband she feared and despised, swords unsheathed, circled one another to charge, thrust and parry blows. They were sizing one another up, and both men soon realized that Robin would easily win. Robin was disappointed that the battle would not challenge him, but he saw no need to prolong it, especially now that his mind was forming a plan to rescue the king. In three quick, graceful moves, he'd knocked Thornton's sword out of the man's hand.
"You'll be sorry, Isabella," Thornton warned, escaping to the treeline, where his horse was tethered.
"No, you will," she promised, sneering.
Robin let Much help her down from the tree, wanting to avoid all physical contact with her.
She was relieved to be safe, and pleased she had tricked Robin about King Richard's location.
They resumed their journey to Nottingham with two of them silent, although Much couldn't stop yammering on and on about how the dog had bitten through the seat of his trousers and had almost ripped out his throat.
When they drew close to Nottingham, Robin stopped. "Do you hear bells?" he asked.
They all listened. "Those are bells alright," Much agreed. "I love the sound of bells peeling!"
Isabella gasped. "It must be that the king is dead! Long live King John!" she cried out, triumphantly.