A New Player

"Are they gone?" Marian emerged from the cave to erase the worry from Robin's face.

"Why did you hide?" he inquired, more suspicious than worried.

"I didn't want her to see me. She might have recognized me."

"From where?" Much and Allan chorused.

"York, a few weeks ago."

"Is it my head injury or was that confusing for everyone?" Allan wondered.

"Friedrich's orders. He instructed us-" Will offered the explanation but his efforts were cut short.

"Not now," Robin stated and walked away. He would have the truth. First he would have safety.

The outlaws' camp

"Two blankets." Robin held out the prize of his research. It had been a long time since he had cared to look for comfort of such kind. Cold or heat it didn't matter. He took what nature had to offer. The coldness in his heart after her Marian's death, or what he though was death, circled everything living in him. And then the fire that burned in him, after Gisborne's revelations of Marian's true fate burned everything away. Now he cared. Not for himself, not yet. She was his first and only care. "Will they do?"

"I think so. It's a warm day," she replied and fastened her sword-belt more tightly, keeping both her daggers strapped on her boots.

"Right, off we go. We'll be back in two days."

"Only two days?!" Allan cried. "Poor Marian."

"Why?!" Much's bewilderment amused Allan who wasn't allowed to elaborate on his innuendo.

"Will, Djaq, no reason to make a fuss." Robin pointed at their lodgings. "It is your home. Enjoy it. Carter, you're an old guest, make our new friends comfortable and keep an eye on things." And by things Gisborne was implied.

While walking away, Robin cast a glance at the big, black, unconscious lump that was Gisborne and he wondered if he would have to kill him the next time he'd see him. That would depend on Marian; on whether what she had to say was incriminating Gisborne beyond any redemption; and on whether Marian would make an attempt against him herself. Yes. Robin didn't know what had happened, but he knew the way Marian held on to her weapons wasn't ordinary.

"Let's see what you've been up to these months." This phrase was uttered by both Robin and Marian. And everyone wondered which one had the most surprising revelations.

Somewhere in Sherwood

"Are you hungry?"

"What?!" Robin was puzzled. Food was another subject he didn't ponder on much. Much knew to avoid asking him. The others wouldn't dare. She did, though.

"Have you eaten anything today? Or the day before?"

"I have regular meals."

"How bad is it?"

Robin sighed. "Quite bad." He finally admitted. "There was no rain for months. The crops nearly died. Many people did." The weight of the world once again appeared on his shoulders, not that he ever forgot, and Marian seemed prepared to share it.

"You need your strength. We fight to live."

"It seems we live to fight."

"It will end soon."

"Once I told them that I love you because you made me believe it will end well for us."

"And now? Have I lost my talent?"

"Now... Now it seems that we bleed and sweat just to prolong our death." The King was returning soon. But not soon enough. Not for the people who were starving.

"It will end, Robin, because now we have the means to end it the way we want to."

It was the moment they both realised they had to share whatever news regarding their cause they had. Robin told her about the coded messages he received from the King, informing him of his return. Marian explained to him about Friedrich's network of allies that were ready to take arms for the King.

Marian was impressed. She knew that wheels were set in motion but she didn't dare to imagine that the King was finally on his way home.

"Friedrich didn't say? He must knew if he's so involved."

"He must have, although he gave us the impression that he's a mere enabler of finances and in charge of seemingly innocent gatherings. What's said in hushed whispers, who's to say? Were his exact words."

"Talented liar."

"A husband and a-father-to-be, I must inform you."

"What woman made a tamed beast of our Friedrich?" Robin's spirits were lifted.

"Olaf's sister, Helga."

"Ah! That explains the vikings here. How did you move a Viking army and no one noticed?"

"Very quietly."

"Do you trust them?"

"Reasonably enough."

"Look at us!" he commented. "Proper adults, talking about the important things."

"Aye," she replied with a wink. "You finally grew up. I don't think I like it."

"Don't worry. It doesn't last for long."

"Prove it. What are thinking right now?"

"That we're not doing what we ought to be doing after so much time apart."

"And what is that?" Marian was behind him a few paces, probably catching her breath. It had been a long journey. She must had been exhausted.

"Being wrapped around each other until neither of us remembers what it feels not being together." He walked as he spoke, climbing on the rock to get a better view from the road bellow.

"Then I suggest you stop moving further and further away from where I am standing."

Robin turned around to see if Marian's face matched her tone of voice. He looked and he saw so much more. And he didn't waste his time, because she obviously wouldn't allow him such mistakes.

Locksley Manor

"Master?" George called from the door. He didn't know in what mood Archer was.

It's not my fault, anyway. I found them. I got them here. He's the one who lost the opportunity to make something great.

"I am tired of being the joke in this situation." Archer's anger was far from the frightening sight of Gisborne's rage or Isabella's shivering, cold manner. "Prince John has plans to move permanently to Nottingham and I am the last to know. Hood knows it before I do! And she just takes my prisoners! Just like that. She doesn't value me. She just keeps me here so that another Lord cannot claim Locksley."

George didn't correct him on the fact the prisoners weren't his. And he thought it best not to mention that Archer's presence wouldn't affect any claim on Locksley, made by any Lord.

"She has secrets and as long as I don't know them she can do whatever she likes. This must change."

This was the first thing that George assessed as an intelligent thought.

"And I know just the person in York, to help us find out."

Perhaps there's a chance for him after all.

"I'll have the horses ready, Master."

North France, close to the borders with Germany

A man dressed in black walked in the tavern. He removed his cloak that was soaking from the rain and gave a coin to the boy for a seat at a specific table. He ordered for more fire with another coin and made himself comfortable while the conversation on the next table was getting louder.

"What makes you think your information is worth paying for?" the tall man requested.

"The Count-" a blond man began to utter the name but the look on the first man's face stopped him. And identity best kept secret. "The Count will pay and he will pay well."

"Not unless you give the name of the noblemen who are willing to join our party."

"The money first."

"Tell me, whom do you take for a fool? The Count or myself?"

"You have secured the North. You need the South."

The tall man, the one with the money and the connection to the mysterious Count, rose from his seat. "I won't pay if I don't know what I am paying for."

"There aren't many who can give the right names, you know. But others are interested in this information."

"Is that what you think? That you're the only one with the right names? Do you think I am so poorly equipped to do this job that I only found you as a source?"

"You need me!"

"This on doesn't have anything to sell." The man dressed in black interrupted the heated argument.

"What's it to you, old man?" the blond man demanded.

"It hurts me to watch money or time being wasted and you managed to do both. Get rid off him," he addressed the tall man.

Several minutes later it was as if the blond man had never entered the tavern, his stupid trick forgotten forever.

"If half of what you said is true I should kill you now."

"Report back to your Count. And meet me in a week."

"It's not like me to make threats, but when I do, I carry them out. Always." The tall man promised.

"Understood." The man dressed in black acknowledged. He knew threats. Better than anyone.

The tall man galloped away and the man dressed in black gave another coin to the expecting hands of the little boy.

"Good," he moaned with satisfaction. "This is good."