Robin took one final look at the lock on Much's cage, just before the sheriff's guard placed the helmet over his head. "Much," Robin implored, "if you love me, you must remember Aggstein."

"Aggstein?" the sheriff asked. "What is this, Locksley, hmm? Some secret code between lovers?"

Much was indignant, terrified, and agonized all at the same time. "We are not lovers!" he exclaimed. "We are brothers...brothers-in-arms! You are revolting!"

"And you, Bonchurch Who Never Really Was, are dead! Or you will be, once your beloved Robin Hood misses the lock! Oh, this is good! Hood cannot possibly hit it, blinded beneath my helmet! More likely, his arrow will go astray, and hit you!"

"Robin never misses."

"Oh! Such faith! How very moving...very touching! But not even Hood can hit a target so small, without his eyes to guide him." The sheriff watched the guard snap the two halves of the helmet shut, surrounding Robin's head in stuffy darkness. "Very good! You've given Hood his arrow? Well then, poke him to begin! Enjoy," he told the crowd.

Unseen by all, Robin's hands had been busy while the sheriff spoke. Not wanting to risk shooting his friend, he had broken the metal arrow point from the single arrow he had been given, leaving its end blunt. He had next slipped the arrow point up his sleeve, hoping to use it to cut through his bonds should his hands be bound again. He needed to shoot quickly, while he could still see the lock on the cage in his mind's eye, and free Much. He was confident he could hit it, but less sure the sheriff would keep his word and let Much go free.

It was not easy to shoot, unable to take a proper stance with his ankles still bound, his sight gone and hearing muffled beneath the sheriff's helmet, but his bow felt right in his hands. Once, when unburdening his heart to his men in the barn in Nettlestone, he had claimed he could kill a man with his eyes closed. It was no empty boast...he knew he could. He believed now that he could save a man without the use of his eyes. He took a breath, loosed his arrow, and waited, secure only that he had not killed Much because his arrow shaft had no point.

Much had shut his eyes tight, bracing himself to be shot. Instead, he heard a click followed by a rousing cheer. Much opened to eyes to see the lock on his cage sprung open, with an arrow sticking from it. Robin had done it! Much had known he would!

Now he was undecided what to do. He appeared to be free, yet could he leave Robin? He must. Robin wanted him free. Besides, he could race back to camp, tell the others, and somehow, somebody would think of a plan to rescue their leader! Much took one final look at his master before racing away.

Gisbourne rose to his feet, demanding the sheriff break his word. "My lord, you cannot let this runt go!"

"Why not, Gisbourne, hmm? Do you think I want him dirtying up my castle?"

"He's Hood's right hand man! Kill him! Prince John, I appeal to you. Why let the runt go free? He'll only return to the forest, and gather Hood's men for a rescue."

"Exactly, Gisbourne," the sheriff said. "Exactly."

"Why settle for one, Gisbourne," Prince John agreed, "when you can have the entire pack? And speaking of that, isn't Hood's luscious wife a part of his gang? She'll be back, and I can still enjoy my dream of my twins in my bed."

"Let me warm it up for you, Sire," Isabella said, blowing in his ear. She needed to make Prince John forget about Marian, if she could.

Gisbourne was seething with rage. "We need to kill Hood now," he demanded.

"Later," Prince John said, leading Isabella away. "I must take my pleasure with your sister first. Hood's not going anywhere, Gisbourne, locked in the sheriff's helmet. You ought to be thinking of consummating your marriage. Your squeezable little bride has been so patient waiting. Let's all have fun! I'll be thinking of your pleasure, while I take mine."

Gisbourne was disgusted. He had no interest this moment in the marriage bed, not while Hood was before him. He watched as guards dragged Hood away to the dungeon, determined to kill the man himself rather than let him escape again.

"I know you want him dead, Gisbourne," the sheriff said. "So do I. But think of the agony he'll suffer first, and take comfort."

"What agony?" Gisbourne snarled.

"Come with me to Hood's cell, and discover for yourself. Oh, yes! I'm going to toy with Hood's sweet mind, and watch the suffering on his pretty little face. I might even let you beat him again with his bow, the way you did when we had him suspended over my sister's babies."

"Yes," Gisbourne agreed. "I would like that."

"Guy?" Meg asked. "What about me?"

"I'm working," he told her, then followed the sheriff into the castle and down the steps to the dungeon.

...

Robin could only guess that his arrow had freed Much. He knew it had not killed him, even if it had struck him. If he had missed, Much might have been thrown into the boiling vat of oil, but Robin doubted he had missed.

His head was still encased in the helmet, yet he knew he had been taken back to the dungeon. He had been bound to a pillar, with his wrists tied behind his back. He was slowly working them now to loosen his bonds so that he could reach the arrow point he'd stashed up his sleeve and slice through them. Escape would be impossible with the helmet on his head, but as Marian said, "First things first."

To his surprise, he felt the helmet move as a key was inserted in its lock, then open on its hinges and be removed from his head. He took in deep breaths of the foul dungeon air, then coughed.

The sheriff, Gisbourne, and the jailor stood before him.

"You're probably wondering, Hood, what became of your little Mulch."

"You mean Much. I freed him," Robin said.

"You see that, Gisbourne? So confident! But a clue, Hood...no. Your arrow struck him. He's dead, Hood. Killed by your hands. Oh, this is good! This is good!"

Robin masked his relief. Much, he knew, could not have died from his blunted arrow. The sheriff was lying. Robin did not know, however, whether Much lived or died, was free or still the sheriff's prisoner. "So, what are your plans for me, Sheriff?" he asked.

"Prince John is occupied, enjoying Gisbourne's leper sister. They've been apart several days, while you had her in your camp, so it might take awhile. I thought you might enjoy experiencing what your king endures, locked away in an unknown castle."

Robin instantly grew suspicious. The sheriff had heard him tell Much, "Aggstein," the name of the castle in Austria where Isabella claimed the king was being held. Vasey surely would have understood, if indeed that was Richard's location. Robin felt himself back to square one, wondering where the king could be.

The sheriff continued. "So, Hood, I'm going to leave you here, locked in my dungeon with my helmet over your head, unable to see, eat, or drink, until Prince John is ready for further entertainment. Just as King Richard is starving in another dungeon, you shall starve here. Prince John enjoys starving his guests. I hear it's a very painful way to die."

"You should know, Sheriff. You let many of my own people starve, before I returned from war."

"Oh, la dee dah dee dah! Do I care? A clue...no. Gisbourne here would like to have a bit of fun with you, Hood. I think you remember the sting your bow can inflict. He's beaten you with it before."

"You had me tied up in the forest, Hood," Gisbourne snarled. "Now it's my turn to torture you." He began beating him, using all his force to vent his anger. "You're going to die, Hood," he threatened. "If I don't kill you myself, you'll suffocate under that helmet, or starve to death."

"Or fry in the courtyard, in my boiling vat of oil," the sheriff added, excited by Robin's pain. "Which to wish for? I wonder."

Gisbourne beat Robin again and again. "When you're dead," he gloated, "I shall make Marian my wife."

"She'll never marry you," Robin told him. "She'll die first."

Gisbourne's rage boiled over. "She should have been mine!"

"She never loved you. She and I were made for each other. She's my wife, Gisbourne. Don't you have your own wife now?"

"It isn't legal," Guy growled, surprising the sheriff before beating Robin again.

"Oh! very good, Gisbourne!"

Gisbourne hit Robin again. "If Marian won't have me, I shall take her by force. One way or another, she will be my wife!"

A page approached, summoning the sheriff away. "Excuse me, Sire," the page said, trembling in fear. "Prince John wishes to speak with you."

"Already?" the sheriff asked. Letting himself out of the cell, he told Gisbourne, "Enjoy yourself while you can. Little Robin Redbreast here might just become fried chicken earlier than we expected. Don't forget to put his pretty little head back in my helmet. Goodbye, Hood, for now." Whistling, he strutted up the dungeon stairs.

Robin knew he had little time. His fingers gripped the arrow point, as he carefully sliced through the ropes binding his wrists. Neither Gisbourne nor the jailor noticed.

Gisbourne's hatred, jealousy, and rage toward the outlaw only seemed to grow as he hurt him. He beat him so furiously he broke Robin's bow. Throwing it to the ground, he pulled out his dagger.

"You marred my face with your knife, Hood," he seethed. "Time for me to ruin your pretty looks."

Robin snapped his bonds free and grabbed Gisbourne's head between both of his hands, shoving it into the pillar he'd been tied to. It took three quick blows before Gisbourne was unconscious. Robin next knocked out the jailor with his fist. That only took one blow. Quickly, he tied Gisbourne to the pillar and placed the sheriff's helmet over his enemy's head. Laughing, he seized the jailor's keys and locked the two unconscious men in the cell.

He quickly searched every cell, looking for Much. Not finding him, he could only pray his friend was still alive as he raced toward the castle kitchens.

Kitchen girls were amazed to see the handsome outlaw rush past them. Grabbing a turnip out of one woman's hands, he tossed it back, saying, "Sorry! I thought it was an apple," before squeezing his body through the shaft they used to toss out the kitchen scraps gone bad.

Robin was free. He wasted no time finding a horse and riding toward the forest. His mind was racing as fast as his horse galloped, trying to think of a plan to rescue King Richard. The only map he had was in his head, from having studied the sheriff's book of maps. And now, uncertain where His Majesty could be, he felt only one thing was clear. He wouldn't get any closer to saving his nation by remaining in England. Aggstein or elsewhere, Robin would travel with his gang to Austria. He hoped with all his heart that Much would be with them.