IX – A Weight to Carry

The Sheriff of Nottingham had always had an unconventional view of the world. Many people called him greedy, and someone else might have taken it as an insult, but not Vaisey. To him, it simply meant that he knew what he wanted in life. So long as one had money and power, everything else was an afterthought. Money and power could be used to buy all other things. Only a fool could not see that, and only hypocrites claimed that they never put their own needs first. From a young age, Vaisey's priorities had been clear: gather as much money and power as possible. The order of everything else he valued in life was irrelevant.

Being appointed the Sheriff of Nottingham had been a great opportunity for Vaisey. Unfortunately, the road to power was rocky and full of people seeking to stop him. What was so wrong in wanting a little more in life? So what if it cost a few lives of some peasants here and there? Or the lives of a king or two? Everyone else was always looking out for themselves, so what made Vaisey's quest for power so wrong?

Lately he had been running into too many obstacles on his road to power – and most of them happened to take the shape of a certain outlaw. Life had plummeted downhill before Robin of Locksley had become Robin Hood. That man was like a roach that refused to die.

At this point getting rid of him would bring Vaisey so much satisfaction that putting an end to Hood for good was third on his list of priorities, right after money and power.

It wasn't only Hood making life difficult for him, though. When one is constantly the smartest person in a room, everyone else begins to look like incompetent fools. Vaisey was sick of those people as well.

One such fool that kept disappointing Vaisey time after time was Guy of Gisborne. When the two had first met, Vaisey had sensed potential in Gisborne. He had seemed like someone who would eventually become the ideal right-hand man: loyal and unquestioning. Yet over time Vaisey had sensed the weakness in Gisborne, and despite his best efforts to pluck it out of him, that weakness had only grown.

Ever since the two had returned from the Holy Land, Gisborne's usefulness had lessened with each day. The man was haunted by a murder he himself had committed. Vaisey knew that when doing such acts, it was important not to feel regret. Yet Gisborne failed even at that simple task. He was far from the perfect right-hand man Vaisey had once imagined. Nowadays, he seemed to be more of a weight that was slowing Vaisey down.

This led to the next fool bothering Vaisey: Lady Isabella. At least she had kept her word and stayed out of his way – he had only seen her in passing a few times since she had arrived. In that regard she was a much more pleasant house guest than Lady Marian had ever been. Yet Vaisey did not intend on letting her stay in his castle for free.

Her sudden appearance in Nottingham had done nothing to bring Gisborne out of his slump as Vaisey had first hoped. People were sentimental – not Vaisey, though – so it had been possible that Lady Isabella could have helped her brother become a functional human being again. But that had not happened, and Vaisey had looked into Lady Isabella's past a little more closely. It was not difficult to find out about the husband, and just like that, Vaisey had another card he could play to his advantage whenever he pleased. If Guy of Gisborne's usefulness had run out, then perhaps his sister could still serve Vaisey's interests.

Tuck had met many outlaws and thieves in his life, but for some reason he had developed a particular fondness towards the ones living in Sherwood. Despite their difficult circumstances, they found the strength to fight against injustice and look after others. Lesser men would have given up by now. These outlaws fascinated Tuck, because they were so different from anyone else he had ever met.

On a warm August evening Tuck found himself at their camp once more. In exchange for news from the outside world he got a full plate of Much's stew – which, considering their circumstances, was quite good. In these calm summer nights where they were all gathered around the fire, eating dinner, talking, and laughing together, it was easy to forget that these people really were outlaws.

Tuck took a seat next to Robin, who was deep in thought.

Robin was a natural leader. The others held great respect for him, but that did not stop them from being friends. In Tuck's experience, it was unusual for a nobleman to treat their lessers in the way Robin treated his friends. Yet the weight of duty was obviously heavy on his shoulders. It was clear that even after Tuck had encouraged Robin to open up to his friends, he was not ready to share that burden.

Even if Robin wasn't willing to let others help carry his worries for him, Much did it anyway. He was one of the most loyal men Tuck had ever met, but he was constantly wound tight with anxiety like a string on a bow. That did not stop him from looking after his friends, and he was just as up for a joke as the rest of the outlaws – for an illiterate servant he was surprisingly quick-witted.

"Allan, how many times do I have to tell you? This is rabbit, I caught it today! You were there with me!" Much said and waved at the pot of stew he had been stirring.

"What, you mean the bony mass of fur you said you were going to use for lunch?" Allan asked.

Although Allan was often snarky, he was full of banter and good humour that only occasionally overstepped boundaries. Tuck had heard of how Allan had betrayed the others before, but little remained of the tension it caused. There was clearly more going on beneath his cocky surface, but on the whole Allan a Dale was a good man. And if he wasn't that, then he was a man very much trying to be good.

Much mouthed words noiselessly, seemingly rumbled by Allan.

"Allan, stop pestering him about it," John mediated.

Much looked at him gratefully.

John Little was often the one who managed to de-escalate situations where a joke was threatening to turn into an actual argument. His calmness balanced well with the younger outlaws' dramatic tendencies. Tuck could see that although Much was Robin's best friend, John was his advisor, and he kept the gang focused on what was important: helping the poor.

"It's not his fault the only stew he knows how to make is squirrel," John said, breaking his tired demeanour. Allan dissolved into chuckles, and Much looked aghast between them.

John's often gruff outlook fell away in times of joy. Behind the grumpy pretence there was a real warmth to him.

Beside Allan, Kate was laughing too, but sent Much a sympathetic look. "I don't care if it's squirrel or rabbit, Much, I appreciate your cooking."

Kate had come a long way from when Tuck had first met her. She seemed to have adjusted to life in the forest much better after she had become the Nightwatchman. Tuck still did not understand the full story behind this mysterious character, but Kate was thriving whenever she wore her mask.

"You say that, Kate, but if you found out it was rat, would you still be so appreciative?" Adam smirked.

The one outlaw Tuck couldn't put his finger on was Adam. There was nothing particularly strange about him. In fact, he was just like any other young man with a defensive and self-centred attitude. Yet there was still something about him that bothered Tuck. Despite Adam's insistence that they had never met, Tuck couldn't shake the feeling that there was something eerily familiar about him. But since there was nothing outright suspicious about the young man, Tuck tried his best to push this feeling away.

These outlaws were quite a strange bunch indeed.

Tuck was content with just watching the scene from the side. In his travels he had stayed in many places, and these types of conversations seemed to happen in every family.

The argument went on, and eventually Tuck turned his attention to Robin. They had not had a chance to have a proper conversation since Tuck had urged Robin to open up to his friends.

"So, have you considered what we spoke about?" Tuck asked quietly.

Robin poked at his food absentmindedly. "You mean the whole opening up to my friends thing?" He kept his voice low, although the others paid no attention to them since Much was now demonstrating that one of the pieces of meat was simply too large to be from a rat.

"Yes," Tuck replied.

"I've… considered it, but it's not easy," Robin admitted. Tuck noticed him glancing at Much.

"Of course it's not. But I'd like to remind you that it's never too late to at least try," Tuck said.

Robin nodded.

Tuck did not want to push him, but he really believed that Robin shouldn't bottle up his feelings. Tuck believed in him – not just Robin Hood, the legendary hero people talked about, and not Robin of Locksley, but Robin. There was something about him that made Tuck believe he could achieve great things. But Tuck also knew that no great man had ever achieved anything alone.

His thoughts were interrupted when Kate announced that she truly did not care what she had on her plate.

"Rat or squirrel, at least we have food," she said and handed her empty plate to Much. "Come on, Adam, let's have a shooting competition before it gets dark." She grabbed two bows and offered one to Adam.

"Do I have to?" he groaned. "I swear, you get some sick pleasure from proving that you're a better shot than me."

"Yes, and?" Kate said, poking Adam with the end of the bow.

"You've already proved it many times! You're a better archer than me; is that what you want to hear?" Adam asked.

Kate was not giving up.

"Come on, just humour me."

Adam let out an exaggerated sigh and made a dramatic show of taking the bow from her.

"Fine. Maybe I'm lucky and you'll miss the target and shoot me."

"I know how to hit the target. Trust me, when I shoot you, it will be on purpose," she said.

Everyone – including Adam – laughed.

Tuck watched as the two left the camp with their bows, the setting sun stretching out their shadows behind them.

And then, like lightning had struck him, Tuck realised why Adam was so familiar.

Isabella felt cold. It was always cold when he was around. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there. She heard his footsteps behind her.

"You really thought you could hide from me?" he said right against her ear.

She felt his hand slide up and down against her neck. Her body was frozen in place, even though she wanted nothing more than to run.

"I will always find you, Isabella," he said. His long, cold fingers wrapped tightly around her neck.

She wanted to scream.

"You will be punished for your disobedience."

His grip tightened. She could not breathe, but her head stayed uncomfortably clear, as if she wasn't losing any air. Isabella heard her neck cracking under his fingers, but he wasn't letting go.

"You have no-one to help you."

Isabella gasped for air. She saw Guy standing in front of her. He watched her with a cold, empty look in his eyes. She tried to beg for help, but the sound got stuck in her throat. The hand around her neck was gripping her tighter and tighter. Why couldn't Guy help her?

"You're all alone, Isabella," the voice in her ear said. Everything was so dark and cold. Especially the hand on her neck. God, she needed to breathe! But the cold, long fingers were colder and longer than before, almost like they were made of stone.

Isabella wished for a quick death, but it never came. These things never ended like that.

Isabella woke up from her nightmare covered in cold sweat and gasping for air. It took her a few moments to return to reality. She was in Nottingham. He was not. She was safe.

But for how long?

At first Isabella had found comfort in the fact that it was unlikely anyone would look for her here. But over time paranoia creeped in. The longer she felt safe, the more she feared that her time would run out. England was only so big, and one day someone would come here to look for her. And it wasn't like people here didn't know who she was. One loose-lipped servant or gossiping peasant could be enough to end her peace.

And when her husband would eventually come looking for her, who would protect her? Not Guy, that was certain. Isabella and her brother had been mutually avoiding each other ever since the dinner at Locksley. Clearly, she was just a burden to him – just like she had always been. But there had to be a very small part in him that still cared about her, because otherwise he would have revealed her hiding place already and she would be living in hell rather than just having nightmares about it.

It was still dark outside, and Isabella knew she should get some more sleep, but with the nightmare still looming over her, she knew she wouldn't be able to. She reached over to her mother's rosary that was laying on a small table next to the bed. Even after all these years she found it difficult to think of the object as hers. Maybe it was because nothing had ever really been hers.

Isabella drew in a few deep and calming breaths and began to pray.

Early next morning Much was carrying water from the stream to the camp. He really wished they could have built the camp just a little closer to some water. Or better yet, build an actual well. Although how they could have managed that, Much wasn't sure, but Will was a genius – surely he could have come up with something. But with Will gone, Much was stuck carrying the heavy buckets all the way to the camp, slowly making his way up the hill to make sure he didn't spill a single drop.

"Need a hand with those?"

Much was startled, but managed to not stumble. He saw Robin leaning against a tree and holding out a hand.

"If I had known you were going to help, I would have brought more buckets," he said and handed one of the buckets to Robin.

The two walked in silence. Much wasn't sure why Robin even was here. He never carried the water to camp, it had always been Much – or someone else, but mostly Much. Not that he was complaining. It was certainly nice to give his arms a break.

Robin wasn't sure about being here either. The conversation with Tuck kept bothering him, and so he had decided to finally talk. Except that now, when he was at last alone with Much, he couldn't seem to think of what to say. Oh, if only Much would open his mouth first. That was how they had always worked: Much talked, and Robin worked from there. But now Much was not saying anything, and Robin was left to figure out how to get words out of his mouth.

"So… You do this every morning?"

Great. What a great conversation-starter. Where was the social and witty Robin that would have come up with something more clever?

"Yes… But you know that already, don't you?" Much asked, confused.

"Well, yes. I just… never mind," Robin sighed. He already regretted this. There was nothing to talk about anything. Much knew everything Robin had been through. He knew Robin almost as well as he knew himself. What was there to say at this point?

"I'm still waiting for you to talk," Much said.

Robin felt a pang of guilt.

"Talk about what?" Robin asked, pretending that he didn't know what Much meant.

"You know… everything. And don't think I'll bring up everything you need to talk about! Tuck told me that you need to take the initiative."

Robin sighed. "Of course he did."

They continued along the path – it was strange to think that they had lived in the forest for so long that they had left behind paths where none had existed before – in silence. Robin hated this. As irritating as Much's rambling could get, it was also comforting. This silence was uncomfortable.

"Well?" Much asked.

"Well what?"

"Talk."

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything! Everything! Just tell me what's going on inside your head. I know you've never been good at talking like this, but ever since Marian died you've… cocooned."

So much for Much not taking the initiative.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just very difficult. I… I miss her," Robin said. He gripped the bucket's handle tighter.

"I miss her too," Much admitted. His gaze fell to his feet, his brows pulled tight with sadness.

"I know I've been… selfish while dealing with all this grief," Robin said.

"You loved her. It's understandable that her death hurt you the most."

"Still, it's no excuse. I'm sorry."

Much nodded in reply. Robin drew in a deep breath; now that he'd started, he might as well continue.

"I would also like to apologise for still not appreciating everything you do. I promised myself I would stop treating you like a servant, but in my grief, I've neglected that promise."

Robin meant every word of what he said. In the barn – God, had it almost been a year already? – he had felt ashamed when Much had pointed out how wrongly he treated him. Much was his best friend, always had been, yet despite everything they had been through Robin still took everything Much did for granted.

"I… Thank you." It was all Much could say.

"And if there's anything I can do, just say it."

"Well, it would be nice if someone else went out to get the water for once," Much said with a hint of a smile on his lips.

Robin felt himself relaxing.

"And will that make you worry less?" he laughed.

"No, because there's still many other things I have to do. But it would be one chore less."

"You work and worry too much," Robin said playfully, shaking his head. But Much had a serious expression on his face again.

"Of course I do! Someone has to. I know we all have our own chores for the most part, but without Will and Djaq, I was the one who took up most of what they used to do. Even with Kate and Adam around, I'm still doing more than I used to."

Robin took a moment to think. Besides fixing up the camp in the spring and making a few changes to sleeping arrangements, they hadn't really talked about what Will and Djaq's departure meant for the rest of the gang. All their chores just magically did themselves, so Robin hadn't wasted a thought on that. Of course it had been Much who picked up the slack.

Robin felt even more guilty now; how could he have been so selfish? Much was always anxious and worried about everything, but Robin could at least offer to help.

"I'm sorry about that, too. I promise I'll do more than just… plan things. And I'll ask Kate and Adam to help out more, if you want me to," Robin offered.

"That would be nice, but there's one thing I'd really want you to promise."

"What's that?"

"Promise me that you'll actually talk to me. I want to know what goes on in your head," Much said.

"All right. It's not easy for me, but I'll try," Robin replied. He reached over to take the second bucket from Much. "And if I don't keep that promise, I give you permission to pin me to a tree and use me for target practice until I talk."

Isabella liked visiting the market in Nottingham. There she could just blend into the crowd and be alone while still being surrounded by other people. She did feel a little guilty for not buying anything most of the time, but she could at least spend some time by browsing through fabrics or just watching people go about their business. There wasn't much else for her to do in Nottingham anyway.

That day, when she was returning to the castle, she found the Sheriff standing idly by the steps in the courtyard. During her stay, Isabella had barely seen the man, much less had a conversation with him.

"Ah, Lady Isabella," the Sheriff said in a tone that made her skin crawl. "Were you visiting your brother?"

Isabella's initial assessment of Sheriff Vaisey had been that this was a man she had no desire to be friends with. After overhearing a few conversations about the man, she knew that it was probably better to stay away from him altogether.

"No, my lord, I was at the market," she replied politely and headed up the stairs. Unfortunately for her, the Sheriff seemed to be in a mood for a conversation and followed her.

"Shame. Guy doesn't come to Nottingham much, have you noticed?" the Sheriff asked.

Isabella knew that the man had to want something from her, but what, she wasn't sure yet.

"Yes, well, I'm sure he's just busy at Locksley."

"Hmm. The peasants there are pesky and in need of some discipline indeed. But you have not been there in a while either, have you?"

Isabella kept looking ahead, but she could feel the Sheriff's eyes on her as they walked along the corridor.

"I'm sure he appreciates the break from my mindless chatter," she lied. Well, it was not a complete lie, since Guy probably did appreciate not having her around, but it was not the full truth either.

"And do you think your husband has had enough of a break from it already?"

Isabella froze. The Sheriff might as well have punched her in the face. Did he know the real reason she was here? The Sheriff was amused by her shock.

"You didn't think I wouldn't find out about him, did you?" he asked.

Isabella took a deep breath.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, trying to lie one last time despite knowing it wouldn't work.

"Oh, I think you do know. It would be a shame if I had to write to your dear husband about your location. I hear he's been worried sick trying to look everywhere for you."

The smile on the Sheriff's face made Isabella sick. She decided to drop the act. Clearly the Sheriff meant business – and business meant an offer was on the table. If it wasn't, her husband would have showed up in Nottingham by now.

"What do you want?" she asked coldly.

The Sheriff began pacing around her slowly. "Oh, not much. Just a little help in finding out what your dear brother is up to."

"I think you've already noticed that we don't talk much," Isabella said. In her head, she was already trying to calculate how long it would take for her to pack up her belongings. But where would she go next? She had no friends or family to go to.

"Well, you'd better start talking. Guy has proved himself to be quite a disappointment lately, and I need to know if I can still trust him," the Sheriff said. "All you have to do is tell me what he does, says and thinks, and I won't have to send a letter to your husband."

"So you want me to spy on my own brother?"

"Well, he should be used to the treachery of women by now." The Sheriff took a step closer, until his mouth was uncomfortably close to Isabella's ear. She tensed and held her breath. "Prove to me that you can be useful, Isabella, and you can stay safe inside these walls."

It wasn't until the Sheriff had walked away, leaving her to stand alone in the middle of the corridor, that she allowed herself to breathe again. She did not want to betray her brother. But then again, hadn't he once put his own safety over hers? Right now, she had no desire to go see him again, but if staying safe meant having to pry secrets out of him, maybe it would be worth it.

Tuck had spent the night at the outlaws' camp, and although usually he would have left early, this time he lingered around a little longer. Much and Robin returned from getting water, and from Much's good mood Tuck could tell that they had been able to talk. As Much set the buckets aside, Robin told Adam to go get some firewood. The boy complained, of course, saying it was too early, but went anyway. This was when Tuck said his goodbyes to everyone. He declined Robin's offer to walk with him to the road.

It was easy to find Adam by following the sound of an axe hitting on wood. Tuck watched for a moment as the boy worked, still looking slightly annoyed and tired. This did not surprise Tuck – he had never exactly been a morning person.

"It took me a while to figure it out," he said finally, loud enough to announce his presence. Adam turned to look at him, but he very quickly went back to work.

"Figure out what?" he asked.

"Who you are," Tuck replied.

Adam hesitated with his next strike, and the axe barely made a dent in the wood.

"I don't know what you're on about," he said through gritted teeth and threw the axe down with more strength.

Tuck took a seat on a nearby log.

"That means you either have a bad memory or that you are lying. My guess is on the latter," he said calmly.

"What makes you think that?" Adam asked, not looking up at the friar.

"Adam," Tuck said, raising his eyebrows.

Adam finally met his eyes. "Even if you are right – which I'm not saying you are – what do you want with me?" He knelt down to arrange the already chopped pieces of wood onto a neat pile.

"Nothing," Tuck said. "I'm just curious to know what reason you would have to lie."

"Does it matter?"

"It depends on the reason."

Adam stood up again, picking up the axe.

"It's not a malicious one, if that's what you're scared of," he said.

"So you admit it, then?"

Adam and Tuck stared at each other for a moment. Tuck was not sure how to read the expression on the young man's face. His lips were pressed together into a thin line and his brows were scrunched together in a frown.

"All right, I admit it," Adam said finally.

Tuck nodded in approval. He had of course known his hunch to be correct, but it was good to get confirmation on it.

"So, why lie?"

"I'm not lying to anyone," Adam said through gritted teeth and struck the axe down harder than before. "I've just started over. I owe no-one explanations."

Tuck stood up and walked over to him. Adam avoided his eyes again.

"You're right, you don't owe anyone explanations. But isn't it easier to start over if you can first be honest about your past?"

Adam couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

"What, you want me to tell everyone everything about myself?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes," Tuck said. "I'll tell you what I told Robin: Whatever weight it is you are carrying, it is easier to carry it together with friends." He tried to give Adam a kind smile, but Adam stared down at the pile of chopped wood.

"I… I can't," he said quietly.

"Why not?"

Adam took a deep breath, his hands running nervously up and down the handle of the axe. Tuck watched him set it down on the ground before pulling something out of his pocket. Adam hesitated for a moment before handing Tuck a small, folded piece of paper without saying a word. Tuck kept his eyes on Adam as he unfolded it. The boy had never looked this serious. Tuck bent his neck to read the words on the paper. He had to read them twice before the message became clear to him. He looked back up at Adam, who still had the serious expression on his face.

"What… Where did you get this?" Tuck asked.

"The Sheriff's room," Adam replied simply and took the paper from Tuck. He folded it back into his pocket.

"Have you told anyone about this?"

Adam shook his head. "I'm not sure if it's real."

Tuck took a deep breath before stepping closer and placing a hand on Adam's shoulder. "I think this is definitely one of those weights you should not carry alone."