The Good the Bad and the Rest

City of York

"I am not a good person, Godric, am I?"

Ever since Godric had joined Isabella's personal guard he was asked to do many things. Things of small importance and things of great impact. Harmless deeds and disastrous actions. He never questioned her motives, not even secretly. It was not his place to raise objections. When his opinion was requested he offered it with great care, but honestly. But never did he imagine that she'd ask him that question.

"My Lady, I do not know how to answer this for any soul."

"Do you believe there are people, capable of goodness, though? Somewhere, somehow."

"Good one day, bad the next few and so it goes, my Lady."

"Perhaps you're right." Isabella clutched something in her hand. Godric didn't know what is was, but he knew it was something she never let anyone see.

"We must travel early, my Lady. You need to rest."

Isabella didn't insist. "I don't need anything else, Godric. You may go."

"Goodnight, my Lady."

Sherwood Forest, under the tree where Marian's ring was buried

"Hood?" Gisborne called in a challenging way.

Three little heads turned to look at him. Three little bows with three little arrows, pointed at him.

"New recruits?" he sneered at them.

"You're an awful, awful man!" a little girl with black hair said.

Gisborne growled at her, but the girl didn't flinch. She stood defiantly with her bow ready. However, Robin stood protectively between them.

"It's alright, Anna." He winked at her. Then he turned to the boys as well. "Children, training is over. Go home and be careful."

The children protested, but Robin had already taken their bows and sent them on their way. They were disappointed their lesson was over but he knew they couldn't resist the urge to go away from Gisborne. When they were not close anymore Robin turned to the least desirable company in England.

"What does that make you feel? People despising you."

"You expect me to burst into tears because a little brat doesn't like me?"

"No worries, then? Not even if your own son, Seth, would come to you with nothing but hatred in his heart for you?"

Gisborne didn't respond. Robin couldn't see guilt, at least not the way other people showed it. And only God knew how long Robin had been searching for guilt in Gisborne.

"No, I really want you to answer this. What would you do if your son would come and ask you why you tried to kill him?"

"Do you? Really?"

"You're right. If we go down that road there's a long list of people you must answer to."

Gisborne remained silent, avoiding eye contact.

"How many times do you reckon she was beaten on that slave ship where you abandoned her?"

"I shouldn't have told you what happened..." Gisborne sighed.

"But you did!" Robin cried. "Why did you?"

"I wanted to atone for my mistakes."

"You thought I was going to kill you and you would be released from your wretched life?"

"You certainly tried. But you couldn't do even this simple thing."

"Simple thing?" Stopping a beating heart is simple?"

"You would have your revenge and I would have my peace. Now look at us."

Robin shook his head. "If only that were true."

For days Robin had been in good spirits. He had been satisfied with the news of the King's return and the fact that he knew the Sheriff's plans. But it didn't last. Gisborne revealed to him what he had done.

Robin had lost control of himself. He attacked Gisborne and nearly killed him. His hands had been soaking with Gisborne's blood, but the monster was still alive. It was the same as that day in the desert. Every time he was close to end his life, Robin stopped. Sometimes he thought is was too soon, too quick, too easy. Gisborne's punishment had to be a long and arduous journey. Sometimes he thought it was the wrong thing to do. It was maddening.

Now instead of avoiding Gisborne he spent most of his time with him. There had to be something that could explain why he would condemn Marian to the life of a slave; or worse. But his thoughts never went further than that. There was an unspoken agonizing doubt about the true extent of Marian's suffering, which he never properly addressed. He didn't know how to do it.

"You never told the others. Why?" Gisborne asked.

It was Robin's turn not to answer. He sat up. "What did you catch for dinner?" Robin's ease to go from sinking in the greatest darkness he had ever experienced to caring for everyday chores was improving. It scared him, but he needed these two different parts of his life to be remain separated.

Gisborne shrugged.

"The next time you'll be tasked to go hunting, you'll do as you're told or you can starve. See if anyone cares. Move now."

Gisborne moved to leave, but Robin grabbed him by the neck and forced him against the tree.

The darkness swallowed him. Again.

"And one last thing. You. Will. Never. Set. Foot. Here. Again." He bellowed. "Understood?"

Theirs had not been a complicated relationship; they had been rivals, champions of opposite sides. Now they shared their duties, but they didn't put their mutual hatred aside. They just let it flourish in the confided space of the camp and the endless God's green Earth.

York, next morning

Isabella was holding the mask she had found in a dusted corner of the castle. When she had asked the guards and the servants, she heard several stories about the Nightwatchman, the masked figure who gave food and money to the poor.

Gradually she became obsessed with the mask, keeping it always on her, spending hours looking at it and wondering about the person who hid behind the mask. Was that person still around? Why hide their face? For weeks she searched for answers, but her efforts were unsuccessful.

One day a young girl who was working at the stables came to her for her usual report. Isabella didn't understand the loyalty that girl was showing towards her. She had done nothing important to deserve it, but she had earned it somehow.

"My Lady, a former servant was seen with Robin Hood. He gave her medicine, I think."

Isabella had no plans to interfere with this aspect of Hood's activities."Is she ill?" She asked out of habit, rather than concern.

"I couldn't say, my Lady. Perhaps for her daughter. A couple of years ago, the child had been poisoned, too. Poor child."

"Who would poison a child?" Shebecame interested in the story.

"Well, first they said it was the Nightwatchman-"

Isabella straightened her back and reached for her pocket. "The masked trouble maker?"

"Yes, my Lady. But it was a lie. For years she used to leave food and medicine at people's doorsteps, my Lady. The only one to help until-" The girl bit her lips. Any praise of outlaws meant severe punishment. "Forgive me, my Lady."

"A woman?" Isabella whispered the word, ignoring the rest.A woman, of course. It made sense.

"Yes, my Lady. I saw her."

"You saw her?"

"Once. Not her face. But I saw a woman's figure. Of that I am sure, my Lady."

"Where is she now?"

"There's a rumor... that the Nightwatchman is dead, my Lady," the girl's voice broke. "Some believe it, some don't and still wait for her to come."

Isabella thought the rumor had substance. With no public appearance of the Nightwatchman, what else could they assume? "What do you believe?"

"I am sure she is dead."

"Why is that?"

"I believe I know who she was. The real her, I mean. And that woman is dead."

"A name?"

"Lady Marian, my Lady."

She sent the girl away. She needed time to think.

No further introduction was required. Marian had been everywhere. In Robin's rejection. In her brother'ssickeningmisery. Marian was echoing inthe corridors of the castle. Even in Vaisey's insults; most of the times he disliked her for what she was, but there were moments when he disliked her for reminding him of Marian. His words.

Isabella hated this ghost that hovered over her life, but she wondered what she had in common with Marian. Now she learned about the Nightwatchman. It didn't help.

She didn't wanted to be anything close to the idea of a masked hero. But lately she wanted to know if she could be.

Many days later she called for the girl again."Why do you believe it was her?"she resumed their conversation. "What made you think that a privileged woman would risk getting caught helping the poor?"

"She helped the people very often. Without the mask, my Lady. She was even arrested or it. It fits, doesn't it? She couldn't watch others suffering. And ever since she died, there's no Nightwatchman."

Isabella had tried to help people, but when it became dangerous she chose to save herself.

"Not a good person..." she whispered.

"Do you mind me siting with you?" A woman asked Isabella to join her at her table. "I am expecting a friend and he's usually late."

Isabella, startled by this stranger, motioned for her to sit, without realizing she was doing it.

"Fine day, don't you think?"

Isabella nodded. "What brings you here?" she asked.

"The fair."

"You perform?"

"I steal from those who watch those who perform."

"Lucrative?"

"No complains," the answer came with the two bowls of soup. "How about you?"

"Visiting family."

"Not so lucrative."

"It depends on the family."

"I have a big family. Many brothers and a sister. But none of them has two pennies to rub together." The woman smiled.

"Do they love you?"

"They do. As much I love them. Yours?"

"When I was young, my older brother sold me to a man."

The woman lowered her gaze and then asked nervously. "Is this the family you're visiting?"

"No. My aunt, my mother's sister. She had something I needed."

"And your brother?" the woman asked, still nervous

"Unfortunately, still darkening this world."

"This can change, you know," she whispered, more calmly than before. "It can be arranged."

Whether that woman was offering to kill Guy or not, Isabella could not say for certain. "It'll happen, one day. For now, I want to see how his new circumstances will affect him. He's living with his former enemies. Depending on them for his survival."

The woman didn't reply.

Godric walked in and approached them. "We'd best be on our way."

"I agree."

Isabella put on her gloves, standing up. The mask fell from her pocket.

The woman picked the mask. She examined it and then gave it to her. "Is it yours?"

"No."

"Strange thing to carry."

"I found it and..."

"Well, one day you may give it back to the one it belongs to. Have a good day." The woman disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.