SUMMARY: After the events in the Holy Land, Robin Hood returns to England feeling defeated. But new adventures wait for him and the other outlaws in Sherwood, and there is work to be done. With the help of new friends and allies, the outlaws resume their fight against the scheming Sheriff of Nottingham and Guy of Gisborne, who is haunted by his own past. The future is uncertain, and only time will tell who determines England's fate.
WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, blood, minor character death, major character death, implied/referenced domestic abuse, implied/referenced rape (These are not all present in every chapter, but I won't specify which ones apply to which chaper)
A/N: This story has already been published in its entirety on Ao3. There you can also find the full tags and warnings. I'm posting this here just in case there happens to be someone here who doesn't use Ao3 for some reason.
DECIDUOUS - Sherwood's Keeper
Part 1: Marcescence
I - A Mortal Man
John was certain he never wanted to travel again. From now on, he would stay in England even if the whole country sank into the sea. He would rather drown than set foot on a ship. But the worst part of travelling wasn't the sea sickness, or the blisters caused by constant walking. No, the worst part was Much's endless commentary. It seemed that travel made Much even more talkative than usual, even when everyone else would have preferred to stay silent all the way from Acre to Nottingham. John knew Much was a good and loyal friend, but right now he couldn't wait until they could all split off into separate parts of Sherwood for some peace and quiet. Based on the look on Allan's face, it seemed that John wasn't the only one feeling this way.
"– and what if we have to build a whole new camp? I mean, maybe wild animals built nests in our camp for the winter. We left behind food that could have attracted some. I am not sleeping in the middle of–"
"I swear, if you don't shut up, I will feed you to the first animal we see," Allan said, cutting off Much's rambling. Much looked offended, and for a moment it seemed like he might argue back, but even he must have been tired, because instead he just muttered something under his breath and sped up his steps to walk in front of the others.
John glanced at Allan, who seemed very satisfied with the newfound silence, before turning to look at Robin, who was walking ten feet behind the others. His face had the same look of empty determination that he had had since they set sail from Acre. John was worried about him – they all were – but there was no way to know what the man was thinking. For the whole journey Robin had only talked about one thing; getting back to Sherwood. He never talked about what would come after, and he absolutely refused to even mention Marian. It couldn't be healthy, holding one's emotions in like that, but John supposed that maybe being in a familiar place would give Robin the chance to grieve properly and be Robin Hood once more.
But John also knew that nothing would be the way it used to be. Will and Djaq were no longer with them. John was genuinely happy that they had the chance at a normal life that none of the others did, but he missed their presence. Who would now treat their wounds or keep a roof over their heads? The four outlaws would have to manage on their own. And they would; John had lived in the forest for years, so a hole in the roof would only be a minor inconvenience.
The bigger change, and the one John worried about more, was Lady Marian's death. More specifically he worried about how Robin was handling it. They would have to get back to work once they got back. Who knew what had been going on in Nottingham while they were gone? Things could have been even worse than when they left. John knew that the people would need Robin Hood once more, but in the state he was in now, Robin would not be useful to anyone.
Much stayed quiet for about half an hour. But with the scenery turning more and more familiar, Much's excitement began to catch onto John and Allan as well. By the time the sun was low enough to paint the sky with pink and orange, the four of them had almost reached camp. They avoided all the spots where their traps were – they were unlikely to work after being left unattended for months, but it was better to be careful.
And then, after the worst journey of John's life, they were finally home.
It turned out that Much's prediction of the camp being overtaken by wild animals was wrong. Instead, a part of the roof had collapsed from the heavy weight of the snow and lack of upkeep. It was nothing they couldn't fix on their own, but it did prove to be inconvenient at the moment.
"Why did it have to be my bed? Look, everything's wet!" Much complained. Allan and John brushed past him, Allan to claim the bunk he had occupied a long time ago, and John to assess the damage.
"Just sleep in Will's bunk tonight. It's not like he's going to need it," Allan said. Then he went quiet, like he had just realized what he said. The camp that was originally built for six people suddenly felt too big.
John looked over at Robin, who was standing at the entrance, looking around. He was still gripping his bow tightly in his hand.
"Robin?" John said, snapping the man back into reality, "Whatever it is you are thinking of doing can wait until tomorrow."
Robin sighed and began moving again. He said nothing as he set down his weapons. John kept an eye on him as he lifted a part of the collapsed roof out of his way. Allan and Much busied themselves with getting ready for bed.
"I'll get some firewood," Robin said finally, disappearing into the forest. The others shared a look. It was the first time Robin had spoken all day. Many things had changed since they were last here. But were those changes too much for their leader?
It was still dark when Robin decided that he'd had enough sleep. Not that it was much – his nerves had kept him from falling asleep. He got up and gathered his weapons quietly, making sure not to wake up the others. They would have tried to stop him from doing what he was planning. They were probably right, but it didn't matter now.
It took Robin no time to get to Locksley. He lingered at the edge of the forest, observing the quiet village. He debated his approach. The old Robin would have caused a scene. But right now he had no interest in gaining an audience or risking alerting Gisborne's men. Instead, he would lure Gisborne out, so that they could settle this privately. Robin made his way along the forest closer to the manor. He stared up at the bedroom window. There was the man that had taken everything from him. Robin reached for an arrow and shot it right through the window.
He immediately turned and headed deeper into the forest, up the hill and then back down until he reached a small clearing. Robin was sure Gisborne would follow him. He set his bow against a tree – it would be too easy to just shoot Gisborne. He stood in the middle of the clearing and waited as the darkness of the night turned into dusk.
It didn't take long for Gisborne to reach him. Robin heard him coming, of course, and he turned around to face his enemy. Gisborne looked like he had not had much more sleep than Robin. He had dark circles under his eyes, but the look in his eyes was anything but tired. He was filled with as much anger as Robin was.
"I believe we have unfinished business," Robin said and drew his sword.
Gisborne walked closer, measuring him with his eyes.
"So you're finally man enough to murder me," Gisborne replied, his voice hoarse.
"This is not murder. We both have weapons to defend ourselves with," Robin said. "Murder is what you did to my wife."
Gisborne wasted no time with his attack.
The fight went on for a while, and as the two aimed blow after blow at each other, the sun slowly made its way higher up the sky. Eventually both Robin and Gisborne lost their swords and resorted to using their fists. Somehow the fight felt better this way. Every kick to the ribs and every punch to the stomach brought relief that gave them both more energy to go on. Robin was sure that the punch he had landed on the side of Gisborne's face would bruise. Not that one bruise would matter once the man was dead.
As Robin took a step back to steady his footing, a tree root buried under dead leaves made him lose his balance for just a moment. Gisborne saw his chance and grabbed a dagger he had hidden in his boot. Robin ducked, but Gisborne managed to tackle him to the ground. Robin grabbed his wrist, trying to keep the blade away from his throat. They were both exhausted. Only their anger and bitterness toward each other kept them going. Robin's grip on Gisborne's wrist slipped. The dagger slashed his forearm, and Robin groaned in pain. The movement made Gisborne lose his balance just enough to give Robin a chance to kick him with all the strength he had left. Robin managed to twist the dagger out of Gisborne's hand. He grabbed it and jumped to his feet, running to the trees.
With Robin's arm injured, Gisborne had the upper hand. Robin knew he needed a moment to breathe, so he hid among the trees. He tightened his grip on the dagger, still dirty with his own blood. He stayed crouched down as he heard Gisborne looking for him. He waited for the man to come closer – then he would strike. But Gisborne was taking his sweet time, and eventually his footsteps disappeared. Robin waited some more. He wouldn't give up his element of surprise. But as the moments dragged on, Robin knew he couldn't hide forever. He risked a look from his hiding place to where he had last heard Gisborne. The forest was empty. The wound in Robin's arm stung painfully.
When he got back to the camp, Robin was frustrated. He had been unable to find Gisborne again, and eventually he had to admit to himself that they would have to finish their fight some other time. He had gone back to gather his weapons before heading back to the camp. His left sleeve was covered in blood. Much would lose his mind if he saw it. Robin hoped the others were still asleep, but by the time he got back, everyone else was busy working around the camp.
"Where were you?" Much asked. He only glanced at Robin briefly before going back to trying to make breakfast with whatever little food they had brought with them. John and Allan were already working on fixing the roof.
"Out," Robin replied simply, hiding his left arm by keeping it still against his body. Much clearly wanted to say something else, but Robin's flat tone made him keep his mouth shut.
As the others focused on their work, Robin headed to where Djaq had kept all their medicine and bandages. He hid himself at the back of the camp as he silently cleaned and bandaged his wound, although it was difficult to do with just one hand. The shirt was ruined, but fortunately he managed to find a spare one lying around. He wasn't sure whose it was, but he put it on anyway.
"So what's the plan?" Allan asked as Much handed them all breakfast. All three of them looked at Robin. He hated this. Couldn't they just leave him alone right now?
"We need to know what's been going on while we were gone," Robin heard himself say. Maybe it would be better to get them all something to do.
"Nottingham?" John suggested. Robin just nodded as a reply.
Nottingham was busy as ever. It almost felt like no time had passed since the outlaws had last been there. Most of Robin's attention was on his aching arm, which he had managed to keep a secret from the others. If he kept it still and slightly bent, he could almost ignore the pain.
"Doesn't look like the Sheriff's done much damage since he got back. Everything seems the same," Allan noted as they passed the guards at the city gates.
"So… Should we ask around? See how people are doing?" Much asked.
Robin shook his head.
"No. Let's just… look around. I don't want rumours about our return to go around just yet," he replied. I don't want rumours about myreturn to go around, he added in his head. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and made sure his hood covered his face.
The men walked around, blending in with the crowds. Allan had been right – it seemed that in their absence, the Sheriff had not caused any more damage to the people than he normally did. After a while, a small crowd that had gathered near the market stalls caught their attention.
At the centre of the captivated crowd stood a dark-skinned friar. He was preaching, but Robin thought that the tone of his voice was closer to that of a king or a general than the typical holy man.
"– and anyone, who does not condemn this senseless violence, has the same blood on their hands. And that same bloodshed continues here. How many mothers buried their children this winter? How many of you have struggled to feed your family while paying taxes that fund a war that kills not only soldiers but innocent civilians?"
The outlaws listened to the friar in slight shock.
"Is he… That could be considered… treason! Is he allowed to say that?" Much whispered.
The friar kept going, unashamedly criticising the crusades, the Sheriff and even Prince John for the high taxes they inflicted on the people of England. Robin noticed that he cleverly avoided mentioning anything about King Richard, but it was clear that the man did not hold him in high regard based on the way he talked about the war.
Suddenly the crowd began to scatter, and the friar stopped his preaching. Robin saw him handing out a coin to an old man that hurried away with his head down. The outlaws stepped to the side into the shadows as they saw the reason for this interruption: the Sheriff's guards. They walked in a small group towards where the crowd had been. Just listening to words like that could earn someone a punishment in a corrupted town like Nottingham. But the friar stood still and calmly made eye contact with one of the guards. They walked past him, as if he had not just preached against the Sheriff himself.
"Since when do the Sheriff's men allow that kind of talk in Nottingham?" Allan wondered out loud. His words were only intended for his friends, but the friar must have heard them.
"Even they are just men, and they don't dare touch a man of God without being threatened into doing so," he explained as he approached the four outlaws.
"I take it that the Sheriff doesn't know about you then," Allan replied.
"Perhaps. So far he has left me alone," the friar said.
"But you're practically speaking treason!" Much blurted out.
"If half of the things I have heard are true, the Sheriff himself has committed treason in ways I never could," the friar said.
"How long have you been here?" John asked.
He must have realized the same thing Robin had; since this friar did not know them, he could be a good source for information without revealing their true identities. Regardless, Robin stayed back, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
"A little over a month. Are you travellers?" the friar asked.
"Yes," Allan replied.
"No," Much said at the same time.
The friar seemed amused.
"My name is Tuck," he said, offering his hand. Allan and John hesitated, but Much felt compelled to continue the introductions.
"I'm Much. And this is Allan, John and Robin," he replied.
Robin sighed. There went their anonymity.
Tuck turned his attention straight to Robin.
"You must be Robin Hood himself, then," he said.
"How do you know that?" Much asked, clearly not considering the fact that they could have still denied being outlaws.
"Everyone in Nottingham keeps talking about you. I understand you have been gone all winter," Tuck said, still looking at Robin.
"We had things to do," Robin said simply.
"Well, I am honoured to meet you. And I would be happy to help you with your wound," Tuck offered and nodded at Robin's arm.
Robin glanced down. The sleeve was clean, but somehow the friar knew something was wrong with his arm, perhaps because Robin had been cradling it against his body.
"Thank you, but I am-"
"What? Why didn't you say anything?" Much exclaimed and grabbed Robin's arm, pulling up his sleeve and revealing the bandages, which had now turned slightly red from blood.
"It's nothing, Much. I don't need help," Robin said. He pulled the sleeve back down.
"Are you sure? I have experience-" Tuck began, but Robin cut him off.
"I'm sure. Thank you, but we must go," Robin said, desperate to get away. He turned to leave, feeling his friends' eyes boring into him.
The Sheriff of Nottingham was quite pleased with himself. He generally disliked celebrating his birthday, so he did not mind that this year he had been on a ship heading back to England. Actually, he disliked celebrating his birthday with other people, but he did not mind rewarding himself for getting through yet another year. So, instead of being a reward for assassination well done, the birthday present he had commissioned for himself was a good consolation prize after Gisborne failed to kill the King.
The present in question was a miniature model of the Nottingham castle and the surrounding town. A wonderful show of craftmanship, he had to admit. The Sheriff inspected the model carefully. Perhaps he should have the stables moved just a little so that the execution platform could be made bigger. That way he could execute more people at the same time.
Unfortunately, he couldn't think his plans through any further because Gisborne walked into the room, ruining the Sheriff's peaceful morning.
"Gisborne, what do you think about expanding the execution platform?" he asked, not bothering to look at the other man.
"My lord, Hood is back," Gisborne replied, ignoring the Sheriff's remodelling plans.
The Sheriff straightened up and looked at Gisborne. The man had a black eye, and the Sheriff could guess where it had come from.
"I assume that's from him? Matches your clothes," he commented.
Hood's return was not a surprise. It had only been a matter of time before the outlaw showed up to ruin the Sheriff's day again. But this time, the Sheriff would make sure to capture him and his little friends right away and not give them the chance to spoil any more of his plans.
"What do you want to do with him?" Gisborne asked, clearly irritated.
The Sheriff stopped to think for a moment.
"Gather up some men. We'll wait for him to walk into a trap," he said, turning back to admire his castle.
"At least tell us how you got it!"
Much had been bothering Robin about the wound all the way back to the camp. Robin knew that the others would disapprove of his decision to go after Gisborne, so he had decided to just brush off any inquiries about his arm with a simple "I'm fine". But Much was Much, and wouldn't leave him alone until he knew for certain everything was fine.
"Just leave it, Much. I don't need help, all right?" Robin snapped as he sat down by the fire pit.
"Let me look at it, it's still bleeding and-" Much began, but Robin interrupted him.
"You've done enough for today. Didn't I say I wanted us to lie low? But you just had to ruin that one, didn't you?"
Much huffed and stormed into the kitchen. Robin knew he had overreacted and that Much was just worried for his friend, but Robin wasn't about to apologise right now. They would both need to cool down first.
Allan and John had watched the two from the other side of the camp. Robin was clearly not all right, but they knew better than to push him on emotional matters. John was the first to approach their leader. Maybe talking about work would calm down the situation.
"So… Do you have a plan? Where are we going to start?" he asked, sitting down next to Robin.
Robin looked from John to Allan. Couldn't they make a single decision on their own? What had happened to "We are Robin Hood"? They could figure things out on their own.
"There's no plan. You can do what you want, but I'm done," Robin said, looking down at the wrapping on his arm.
"What do you mean 'done'? We just got back!" Allan said. Much pretended to be busy in the kitchen, but he was clearly listening to the conversation intensely.
"I mean that I'm done playing Robin Hood. I'm quitting."
John and Allan stared at him in shock.
"You're just tired-"
"No! I mean it. I'm done," Robin repeated. The wound on his arm stung painfully. Allan took a step closer.
"You can't just quit. Just because Marian-"
Robin jumped to his feet and grabbed his bow. Without a word, he marched out of the camp. Allan almost went after him, but John stood and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Let him have his tantrum," he said.
Much slammed a pot unnecessarily loudly on a table.
"So what do we do then?" he asked, looking like he might just chuck the pot across the camp if he didn't get something else to do.
John noticed that both Much and Allan were now looking at him, waiting for an answer.
"We do what we've always done. Help the poor. We'll start by checking if any of our storages survived the winter."
Robin's knuckles were turning white as he squeezed his bow tightly. He wasn't sure where exactly he was going, but it didn't matter right now. He might as well use this frustration to shoot the first deer or rabbit he came across.
Robin had not planned to live to this point. A part of him had hoped that in the process of killing Gisborne he would meet his own end as well and be free of all this pain. But Gisborne was still alive, and all Robin had was a throbbing pain on his arm. Now he had to live in this awful and unjust world without the woman he loved. The optimism and hope that one day things would be better had been buried in a desert in the middle of nowhere, and Robin wanted nothing more than release from his own thoughts. What was the point of fighting if nothing ever changed? Even if Robin killed both the Sheriff and Gisborne, would things be better? No, of course not, because Prince John would just send someone else to do his bidding. The people would continue to suffer. What difference would one man with a bow make? None. And worst of all, nothing Robin did would ever bring Marian back.
He had been walking for a while, but he stopped when he realized where he had ended up. This was the place where he had proposed to Marian. That day felt so far away, like it had happened to someone else many years ago. Back then Robin had felt hope. He had really believed he could make a difference, that one day he would get the reward that all heroes got at the end: a truly happy ending. But that was all gone now.
Robin was lost in his thoughts. He hadn't even realized that he had lifted his hand to the cord around his neck that held two objects: his tag and Marian's ring. They felt foreign under his touch, and for the first time in weeks, Robin felt tears in his eyes.
"I can't believe you just reused the same hiding places!" Allan said as the three of them examined one of the storages the outlaws used to store food they had acquired in various ways.
"Well once you had led the Sheriff's men to clear them out, it was unlikely anyone would be back to check them again," Much replied, his tone serious and accusing.
"Hey, I've said a million times that I'm-"
"Sorry. Yes, we know," Much said, much more cheerfully now, "And I'm quite sure it hasn't been a million times. I mean, I can't count that high, but I know that it's more than a hundred."
"Ha ha, very funny," Allan said, rolling his eyes.
Somewhere in the distance a twig snapped, sending an echo through the forest.
John dropped two sacks of flour by their feet, getting in between the two.
"These are all right. Rats got to the rest, but there might be more in the storage by the stream," he said.
Much bent down to pick up one of the sacks. "I still think we might as well just hide everything closer to the camp. I don't care what Robin says, I hate running around the forest just for a couple sacks of flour."
"Just worry about getting these to the people who need them before you start worrying about how to store food we don't have," John replied and grabbed the second sack.
"Or maybe worry about those first," Allan said, pointing up the hill.
About a dozen of the Sheriff's men had surrounded them.
"Oh, great," Much groaned and dropped the sack back down.
A little further away, a shadowy figure observed the scene, hiding himself behind a tree.
The arrow just barely missed the deer and spooked the animal away. A stinging pain had gone through Robin's arm, throwing off his aim at the last second. Maybe he should take another look at the wound and make sure it was healing properly. Robin decided to give up on the deer and turned to walk down the hill to the direction he had come from.
"Are you certain you do not want help with your arm?" someone said. Robin turned back around and quickly nocked his arrow, looking for the source of the voice. The friar from Nottingham stepped out into the sun, unphased that an arrow was pointed at him. Robin relaxed.
"I'm not sure I want help from a stranger," he said, putting the arrow away.
"Sometimes we need help from strangers instead of ourselves or our friends," Tuck replied.
Robin glanced down at his arm. His stubbornness was strong, but the ache in his arm was making him more open to help.
"Just let me make sure that you are healing properly. I'm sure you'd like to shoot again sooner rather than later. There is a stream nearby," Tuck said and gestured further down the hill.
Robin let the friar lead him to the small stream, and the two sat down. Robin rolled up his sleeve and unwrapped the bandages. The wound had stopped bleeding, but his arm was covered in dried blood. Tuck began to clean the wound.
"How did you get this?" he asked, wetting a clean cloth in the stream and pressing it gently on the wound.
"I tried to kill the man who murdered my wife," Robin replied.
"I didn't know you were married," Tuck said.
Robin was a little surprised that the man paid no attention to the part where he had confessed to having tried to kill someone.
"Why would you have known it? We've never met before," Robin said and hissed in pain as Tuck touched a part of the wound where the flesh was still raw.
"From the day I arrived in Nottingham, all anyone has talked about is Robin Hood. I know quite a bit about your life."
"And yet I know nothing about you."
"There is not much to know about a simple friar," Tuck said, smiling.
"I disagree. You're quite a strange friar. I have never met one who would so openly speak against the Sheriff and even the King," Robin replied.
"The people need something to believe in. Someone must set an example and show them that it is possible to have hope. I do not see how it is that different from what you have done."
Robin looked away from Tuck.
"Well, you can take over then. I'm not going to be Robin Hood anymore," he admitted.
"Why?" Tuck asked.
"Because I am tired. What have I really achieved? Nothing has changed since I became an outlaw! I have lost friends and even the woman I love, and now I'm just supposed to go on like everything is fine! So why shouldn't I quit? What difference has Robin Hood really made?" The words slipped out of Robin's mouth. Weeks of pent-up frustration were finally releasing.
A silence fell around them. Tuck continued to clean the wound. It wasn't until he reached for some clean bandages that he spoke again:
"No-one is asking you to be a perfect hero. You are a mortal man, just like anyone else, and you are allowed to feel angry and frustrated, so long as you don't let those feelings consume you. And that is exactly why you should continue to be Robin Hood. I can only offer the people words about God, but you can show them the difference one man can make. You say that you have achieved nothing, but I disagree. I have been to many places, but only in Nottingham have I seen so many people truly believe that things could be better, and that they do not need divine intervention for change to happen. You are not just a hero to them, Robin. You are someone who sees those people as worth fighting for."
Tuck finished wrapping Robin's arm and stood up.
"If you truly believe it is time for Robin Hood to die, then no-one can change your mind. But I hope you have enough strength in you to pull off one more heroic act," he said.
"What do you mean?" Robin asked, confused.
"The Sheriff's men have captured your friends. We must go to Nottingham soon if we wish to save them."
Robin sighed. As tired as he was, he could not abandon his friends.
"Ah, we meet once more. I'm afraid this will be our last meeting," the Sheriff said with a grin as the guards dragged Allan, Much and John in front of him. All three men looked very displeased about their current situation, unlike the Sheriff, who was absolutely delighted. "Are you sure no-one saw you bring them in?" he asked the guard closest to the door.
"Yes, my lord," the guard answered.
"Excellent. Get the gallows ready – I want these three executed before Hood finds out we have his little friends," the Sheriff said, dismissing a few of the guards. The rest stayed behind in case the outlaws tried something.
"What, you're not going to offer us a last meal?" Allan couldn't help but comment.
"Oh, I believe you have had enough meals in my castle," the Sheriff replied, walking closer to Allan, "You could have had more if you hadn't thrown everything away. And for what?"
"I just really missed the taste of overcooked squirrel," Allan said and looked calmly down at the Sheriff. Realistically, he should have been a lot more worried about his upcoming execution, but at this point it felt more like an inconvenience rather than an actual threat on his life. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Much was pressing his lips together tightly, probably to keep from protesting against the comment on overcooked squirrel.
Robin and Tuck had arrived in Nottingham in time to see the gallows being prepared for a hanging.
"It seems that we are just in time," Tuck noted. Robin was already counting the guards, making a note of all possible exits and going through the list of things that could go wrong before they put their plan into action. He didn't like any of those possibilities, so he pushed them from his mind.
"Are you sure this will work?" Robin asked. He knew his part, but he wasn't entirely sure if Tuck could be trusted to do his.
"If even half of the stories I have heard about you are true, you have done far more difficult things," Tuck said with a smile.
A small crowd was starting to form in the courtyard. The people's curiosity would work to Robin and Tuck's advantage.
"I'd better get in place," Robin said.
"Good luck," Tuck replied and moved to join the slowly expanding crowd.
Robin hurried down the streets of Nottingham, looking for a secluded spot where he could climb up on the wall that separated the castle from the rest of the town. He kept his face hidden by his hood, even though he didn't come across any people. After a while he came across a house that was closer to the wall than the rest, so after making sure no-one saw him, he climbed on its roof. It wasn't too difficult, since someone had conveniently left a ladder leaning against one of the walls, but pulling himself on the roof was a struggle with the wounded arm. Robin took a moment to consider the gap between the house and the wall. He could make the jump, but he wasn't entirely sure if he could get a good enough grip to pull himself up on top of the wall.
But there was no time to waste. Robin jumped.
He managed to just barely get a good enough grip on the edge of the wall. Robin was very grateful that Tuck had bound his arm as well as he had. He bit his teeth together and pulled himself up on top of the wall. That was the difficult part done.
Robin kept his head down as he made his way back towards the courtyard. He was lucky, because on the way there was only one guard, and he was looking over the courtyard and conveniently missed Robin sneaking behind him. The outlaw settled in a small nook, where he could hide himself until the right moment. He took in his surroundings. The way out had only one guard, so that was no problem. However, further up the wall were more guards. Better make this quick, then, he thought.
Looking down at the courtyard, Robin could see that the crowd had gotten bigger. He guessed that none of them knew who the people set for execution were. To them it could be anyone, he thought, the Sheriff punishes the innocent all the time. Tuck's words about hope kept going through his head. Once the people knew Robin Hood was back, they would expect him to be the hero they had come to know. But could he do it? Could he find the strength to go fight, even though right now it seemed hopeless? He had to, because if the people could get hope from Robin Hood, he could get strength from them.
Robin's thoughts were cut short as he finally spotted Tuck among the crowd. The friar had made his way closer to the platform. Just then, the three prisoners were brought out. Robin watched as his friends were led to the platform. Some of the people clearly recognized the outlaws, because the crowd began to buzz like a hive of bees. The Sheriff walked out of the castle, beaming like the sun itself.
Tuck was ready. The guards seemed to assume that he was there to pray for the outlaws, so as the three men walked past him, he was able to get close enough to John to whisper to him: "Free yourself and your friends, but do not move until my signal." John said nothing, but he felt something small and sharp fall into his bound hands.
"People of Nottingham!" the Sheriff addressed his audience, full of his usual confidence, "You can all sleep happily knowing that today we finally execute three of Robin Hood's outlaws!" He paused for a moment, allowing the crowd to have their reaction. "Now, if you see Robin, please tell him that I have a nice, comfortable rope reserved for just him, so-"
"Why don't you tell it to me yourself?"
Robin had jumped up from his hiding place. Everyone's attention was on him now, and gasps and whispers filled the courtyard. The Sheriff looked disappointed. Of course Hood was here to ruin his moment. Everyone in the courtyard was looking up at Robin, so no-one saw the other three outlaws cut themselves free.
"How very kind of you to join us. But unfortunately I don't have the time to exchange pleasantries," the Sheriff said, "Get him!"
The guards to Robin's left began to approach. He started to run towards the one he had passed earlier, and it proved all too easy to just grab the guard and practically throw him at the others. From the corner of his eye, Robin could see three figures running towards the kitchen with guards following them. Tuck's plan had worked. Robin ran up the wall as fast as he could. He had to get down before they brought out archers. Somewhere down below he could hear cheering. When Robin reached the point where he had climbed up, he jumped from the wall of the castle without even looking around. Unfortunately, his landing on the adjoining house's roof left much to be desired, and he nearly fell down, but managed to find his footing just in time.
Robin could hear more guards approaching from the ground. He jumped to the roof of the next house, ran across it, and jumped to the next. An arrow landed next to his feet. That was his cue to get down. He spotted a tree between two houses. He jumped on it and climbed down as fast as he could. Now he just needed to hide. The guards were getting closer. A well caught his eye, and without thinking about it further, Robin jumped in, grabbing the rope on the way. As the guards ran past his hiding place, he stretched out his legs so that he could rest his back against the side and take some of the weight off his wounded arm. Now he just needed to wait.
Meanwhile back at the castle, Robin's friends were making their escape.
"How are we going to get out?" Much asked as they made a sharp turn left. He was getting disoriented, and he wasn't sure if at this point he could even get back to where they had come from.
"We'll get out through the back, but we need to get there before they get more guards there. This way!" Allan replied and led them to another turn and down the stairs.
"Why are we going down? I thought we needed to get out!" Much complained.
"Trust me, this is a shortcut!"
"Right, of course you know that," Much mumbled, out of breath.
Allan, Much and John managed to get out of the castle with relative ease, thanks to Allan's shortcut. They made it back to the camp only a little before Robin and Tuck joined them.
"So… I take it that Robin Hood is back?" Much asked. Robin was much more relaxed than before.
"Yes, I suppose so," Robin answered. He offered Much an apologetic smile, although he wasn't quite ready to apologize properly. There was an awkward silence, before Robin remembered their guest: "Well, anyway, I invited Tuck to join us for dinner. I thought we owe him since he's the one who warned me about the Sheriff's plan."
"Well, thanks for that," Allan said.
Much was still staring at Robin, like he was waiting for something, until he suddenly snapped out of it.
"Right, I should start making dinner then," he said and marched into the kitchen.
"I hope you like overcooked squirrel," John said with a smile.
Robin and Tuck didn't quite catch why this was so funny, but Allan laughed, and Much threw a wooden spoon at him.
As his friends continued their banter and Tuck watched with amusement, Robin excused himself and made his way out of the camp. There was something he had to do.
Robin walked back to the tree, which now in his head had become his and Marian's tree. There he knelt down and dug a hole with his bare hands, took Marian's ring off the cord around his neck, dropped it into the hole and filled it up again.
All of Nottingham knew now that Robin Hood was back. And that was how it should be. Marian would never have forgiven Robin if he just gave up. He had to keep going, if only to keep her memory alive. It would take a while until the scars had healed – not just the one on his arm, but the one in his heart as well – but one day he could go forward in life. Right now, he needed to grieve.
He stayed kneeling by the tree for a while. He mourned Marian. He mourned the future they could have had together. He mourned the missed opportunities. He mourned the children they never had. By the time he stood up and left, the sun was already setting, painting the forest in a golden glow.