THE THREE SISTERS

Sherwood Forest had been quiet for days. Deep within the hidden green world that they had made their home, the outlaws rested together, telling tales, playing games, and dealing with the lack of activity in their own, characteristic ways. Robin had been expecting trouble; fighting caused by frustration perhaps, or just problems caused by their natural boisterousness and general lack of restraint; but there was none. Will grumbled of course, but then Will always grumbled. Robin would have been more worried if the moody and restless former soldier had behaved.

"I'm hungry." It had been an active morning of sorts, or at least as eventful as mornings had been lately. John's words made them all think of food.

"Yeah. Me too." Robin had been doing little all day save enjoying the sunshine, but he felt hungry all the same. Will scowled.

"If all we're going to get to eat is more of the weird muck we've been having lately, you can keep it. I'd rather be hungry."

"You've got no sense of adventure." John stretched his powerful muscles, and threw down his quarter-staff. He had been practising one-on-one combat with Tuck, who was also skilled with a staff, and both men were exhausted. Tuck laughed.

"That's not a charge you hear pointed at our Scarlet very often."

"With good reason." Will pointed a stabbing finger at John. "Just because I don't like weird food, doesn't mean that I don't like experimenting. I'm just not some... foreigner, that's all."

"Well so long as it's food, I don't mind what it is." Rubbing his tired shoulder muscles, Tuck went over to the fire. There was a pot of stew there, hanging from a spit above the low flames, and some dark coloured flat bread warming nearby. The bread was his own, made from wheat that had been given to the outlaws by local villagers. Tuck had been hopeless at cooking with it at first, when they had all moved into the forest in the early days of their companionship. Now he was making bread as though he had done it for years. "What do you say, Much? Is it ready?"

"Don't know. Suppose so." The youngest member of their little family, and Robin's adopted brother, Much was ever enthusiastic - but was not necessarily the best person to choose for cooking duties. He had a habit of forgetting when he had put things on to cook, and no idea at all when it came to remembering to remove them. With his usual patience and good nature, however, Tuck had been happy to let him help out lately.

"When did you put it on, half wit?" Striding over, Will rapped the boy on the forehead with his knuckles, then peered hopefully at the bubbling contents of the pot. "Looks done to me. Going to be hot anyway, isn't it. Must be ready."

"I suppose so." Tuck reached for the ladle and a pile of wooden bowls. "Call the others, someone. I'll start serving out."

"I'll call them." Bright and eager as ever, Much put his hands to his mouth and uttered a loud, shrill whistle that echoed throughout the trees. Tuck winced.

"Do you have to do that when you're right next to my ears? Now go and fetch the ale barrel, there's a good lad."

"Sorry Tuck." Not looking particularly abashed, Much scurried away on this latest errand. Robin laughed.

"Can't fault him for his energy, anyway."

"Which is more than can be said for you." Clapping the smaller man on the back in a manner guaranteed to cause weak knees and breathlessness, John threw himself down by the fire. It was too hot for such proximity, but he wanted to be close to the food. "The rest of us have been practising all day, and you've just been lying about."

"I was tired!" Robin grinned good-naturedly. "Hard work, you know, being the son of Herne."

"He was out all night again." Coming back with the ale barrel, Much set it down near to Tuck. "Did Herne call you, Robin? You went off just as I was going to sleep, and I didn't hear you coming back."

"Yes, Herne called me." Robin stifled a yawn, thinking back to his night's meeting. "I wish he'd wait for daylight. We might not have had much to do these last few days, but it's still nice to get some sleep."

"What did he say?" Sitting down nearby, Will began pouring the strong ale into the wooden mugs that were waiting nearby. Robin shrugged.

"The usual. Strange things I don't understand; prophecies that don't mean anything to me until they come true." He smiled. "I don't think that it's anything we have to worry about now though - at least, he didn't sound too urgent. If there's danger coming, we'll just have to face it like we usually do."

"True." Will leaned over to sniff at the stew as Tuck began serving it out. "Although the only danger I can see around here is in whatever we're supposed to be eating. Much, what is it this time?"

"Stew." The boy looked very happy about it, oblivious to Will's displeasure. "With carrots and onions and... some green things that Marion found."

"Yeah, and?"

"And..." Wilting slightly under the force of a glare that had often made experienced Norman soldiers quake, Much hesitated. "Some... other things."

"I knew it!" Throwing up his hands, Scarlet turned away. "It's a conspiracy. I knew we should never have robbed that merchant. Should have let him go. Instead we wind up with a box full of weird foreign spices, and no decent food in a week."

"Don't grumble." Happily beginning to eat, John grinned through a mouthful of stew. "I like it. It's different."

"You'd eat anything," Will reminded him. "It's not even proper food, is it. Damn stuff bites back."

"It's interesting." Defending his hit and miss cooking, Much took a plate from Tuck, then sat cross-legged beside the fire. "Nasir said they eat this sort of thing all the time where he comes from. He showed me how to use it."

"Yeah, but he's not here to eat it, is he." Taking an experimental mouthful of the stew, Will winced. "Who'd think up food like this, anyway? I mean, it's no bloody wonder the Saracens have been fighting off all those Christian armies for so long, if this is what they've been eating."

"All the more reason we should eat it then, isn't there." His mouth full, John laughed at his friend's complaints. "Eat a couple of plates of this, and we'll send you off to storm Nottingham Castle single-handed."

"Very funny." Will tried to quell the fire in his throat with some of Tuck's bread. "I just think it's suspicious, that's all. When we found those spices in that merchant's cart, Nasir looked about as pleased as... well, as pleased as he ever looks. But where is he now, hey? Much gave the signal, but he and Marion certainly aren't running back to join us."

"That's true." Robin's eyes drifted away to the hidden path along which Marion and Nasir should have been coming. There was no sign of them; no rustling of trees or bushes, no sound of voices, no whistle of greeting or identification. "I wonder where they are."

"Lost," suggested Much. Tuck laughed.

"That's not likely to happen, lad. I'd never have imagined it a year ago, but Marion's fitted into this forest as though she's been here all her life. I don't think she could ever get lost."

"You don't suppose something's happened then?" The young miller's son looked pale and worried, and his eyes opened wide. Robin clapped him lightly on the back.

"Of course not. There isn't a soldier in Nottingham Castle who isn't afraid of Marion when she's got a weapon in her hands. They'll be along."

"Alright." The boy nodded, although he didn't look happy. Will stuffed the rest of his bread into his mouth as though to bring his meal to a close, and then spoke incoherently around the large obstacle now impeding his tongue.

"Want me to go and look for them?"

"No." Robin was quietly confident, which was enough to put them all at their ease. "There's nothing wrong. I'd know if Marion was in any immediate danger."

"Robin's always known things," piped up Much. The pride was obvious in his eyes, and Robin smiled at him fondly.

"It's a gift that can be hard to take sometimes," he answered softly, but the possibility of pathos in his voice was not matched by the smile in his eyes. "Now hurry up and eat. I feel like a wrestling match."

"But we've been working all day!" His protests only half serious, John tried to sound genuinely indignant. "It's not our fault you've been lazing about in the sunshine, is it. You should have done your wrestling earlier like the rest of us."

"And fought you before you got tired?" Robin laughed. "Not likely. Is there any ale left in that barrel?"

"Just about." Tuck poured him some of the strong liquid. "I'll tell you what, Robin. We'll have another fight if that's what you want, but we do it with quarter-staffs. The two of us against John and Scarlet. Much can see that we play fair." He laughed. "And he can fight the winners."

"Sounds good to me." Will jumped to his feet, as always ready to be off. He did not tire easily, and even the meal that he had just eaten didn't seem to have slowed him down. "Come on then."

"You're a bloody mad man." Groaning as he rose to his feet, as though all of his muscles were protesting against the movement, John stretched his back and arms. "I don't know that I feel up to this right now."

"If you think you're going to fool me into underestimating you, you can think again." Heaving himself to his feet, Tuck tightened the rope belt around his cassock and lifted up his sizeable quarter-staff. "I'm not daft, you big oaf."

"We'll see about that." As they moved away from the fire, already lost in the spirit of the game, Little John let his biggest and most mischievous grin take over his genial face. "We'll see."

**********

Marion had soon come to regret her insistence that she be allowed to stand guard with the others in her turn. Robin had tried to make her waive such responsibilities, but in her eagerness to be a proper member of the gang she had demanded that he agree to her pulling her weight. Standing alone in the bushes, a long way from the company and good cheer of the camp, with cold grass soaking her ankles, she almost felt like admitting that Robin's side of the argument had had its merit.

"I'm cold and I'm wet," she told an equally soggy looking rabbit that was hopping about nearby. It froze at the sound of her voice. "I'm cold and I'm wet, and I'm bored."

"Not for long." Nasir had come from nowhere, and the sound of his voice almost made her jump. Only her nerves, already hardening after the months of wilder living as an outlaw, prevented her from showing how startled she was.

"There's somebody coming?" She couldn't hear anybody, but her instincts were not yet as sharp as she hoped they would some day become. Nasir raised an eyebrow, and gave a nod to indicate the road that snaked its way past them. "Many of them?" She was already reaching for an arrow, although she wasn't sure whether its best use would be for protection or for warning the others back at the camp. Would they see an arrow shot into the air? Robin had told her to use such a signal if she needed to contact him from a distance, but she wasn't sure how effective it was likely to be. Nasir put out a hand, lowering her arm and her bow.

"Not yet," he told her, and she frowned at him. There were times when his reticence was welcome, even endearing, but at other times she wished that he was as chatty as Scarlet or Little John.

"Not yet? When?" He held up a hand for silence and slipped away from her, following the road a little way. She trailed after him, wishing that she was wearing something a little more practical than her dress. It clung to her now, the hem heavy with dew that the filtered sunlight was determinedly failing to dry up. A familiar whistle sounded through the trees, very faint and distant, but recognisable nonetheless. "That's the call from the camp."

"Food," he told her, voice no more than a hiss. "They eat."

"I'm hungry." She said it as though she wanted to hurry back immediately, and in part she supposed that she did. In the clearing where they had set up camp the sunlight would shine down directly, and would be a good deal warmer than in this overgrown, clammy place. The fire would add to the warmth, and her clothes, sodden from accumulated rain that must have been waiting for her in these bushes since the last downpour several days ago, would soon dry. The chill in her bones would ease; she might even start to feel more human again. All the same, she knew that she was going nowhere.

"How far ahead?" Aware that Nasir was taking no notice of her apparent desire to return to camp, she caught him up, trying all the time to mimic his stance and his manner of movement. He cocked his head on one side, listening.

"Not far. Two horses."

"How do you know that?" She was amazed, but he merely frowned at her, his expressive face showing surprise that she would ask such a question.

"I went ahead." It was an obvious answer, and one that made her smile. "One man, one woman. Not rich people."

"They might be in disguise." People did disguise themselves, sometimes, especially when they had to travel long distances. Places like Sherwood Forest had long been filled with outlaws, many who were little more than cut-throats. Pretending that you were poor, and that you had nothing that was worth stealing, was often the best and only way of surviving a journey unmolested. Nasir nodded.

"Then we're going to rob them?" She was excited. Robin often denied her the chance to play a full rĂ´le in things, and this was the perfect opportunity to prove that she could be as valuable a member of the team as any of the men. Nasir's eyes narrowed.

"We watch," was all that he would say. She sighed.

"We're perfectly capable of handling the pair of them. If one's a woman then they're probably not going to put up much resistance."

"You would," he reminded her, and for a second one of his rare smiles flickered into being. She scowled.

"Then we're not going to do anything? We should at least signal Robin."

"No." His eyes were everywhere, and her nerves were beginning to behave in a similar fashion. Maybe it was the known proximity of the two strangers, but never before had she felt so sympathetic to the old adage that trees had eyes. She smiled to herself. She had been alone out here for too long. "No time," Nasir was telling her, eyes now hard. "Look."

"Look at what? I..." She trailed off, watching as the bushes up ahead began to move. Three men, of roughly Scarlet's build, slipped soundlessly from the undergrowth, breaking out onto the road just as the sound of approaching hoof beats became audible to Marion. She gasped.

"Isn't that the gang that the people of Elsdon are so scared of? The man with the patch over one eye?" Her answer was the brief nod that had fast become so familiar. "Then we should do something." She might have been surprised by her own resolve, if she had stopped to think about it. "Whoever those two people are, they don't deserve that bunch. They'll be killed."

"Halt!" Up ahead the leader of the malevolent threesome had fitted an arrow to his bow, and was facing the pair of unfortunate travellers. Marion raised her own bow. If there were just the three to contend with she couldn't see any danger; but if there were other members of the infamous gang hidden nearby, things might get out of control. For a second uncertainty floated through her mind; then she dismissed it and made her decision. She was the wife of Robin Hood, son of Herne - and it was her duty to protect these people from the three men who would certainly kill them.

"What do you want?" The man on horseback stared down at the threesome with arrogant eyes. "Who are you?"

"Just give us your money." One of the men stepped forward, roughly pulling the rider from his horse. "Do what we say and we'll kill you both outright. Otherwise... I don't think you want to know what might happen to your companion." His single cold eye, its cruelty undiminished by the fact that its twin was covered by a rough patch, sent an unpleasant threat towards the second rider, a girl no older than Marion. Hidden by the trees the two less objectionable outlaws exchanged a glance.

"On my mark." Marion wondered if she would be quick enough to reload her bow after loosing her first arrow. She would need to make the first shot count. Beside her Nasir was ready, his eyes fixed unblinkingly on the scene before him. Marion wondered briefly what would happen if they were both aiming at the same man. Would they still have time to take out all three of the enemy? She frowned to herself, and stilled her querulous mind. Herne would guide them, and she had to trust in that, especially if she was ever to prove to Robin that she was as capable as she claimed to be.

"Don't hurt us." The girl had been dragged from her horse as well now, and one of the men was holding a knife to her throat. Her male companion struggled to reach her, but was unable to break free.

"Leave her alone!" His anger was powerful, despite his obvious fear. Marion took a deep breath.

"Ready?" It was an unnecessary question of course - Nasir was always ready. Out on the road the girl was struggling desperately, beginning to cry. Marion thought briefly of a time when she had been attacked by armed men, when the Baron de Belleme had demanded her capture. She knew how that girl felt, and her eyes hardened. As her wrist tensed behind the bowstring, she gritted her teeth and whispered the order to fire.

Her arrow caught the nearest of the three, almost before she was entirely aware that she had loosed it. The man fell, the imprisoned girl tumbling from his arms to land in a heap on the road. She stared at the dead man, and at the arrow protruding from his back, and gave a startled cry. Beside her a second man fell, this time the cruel eyed leader with the patch. Nasir's arrow had struck him in the chest. The girl's cry became a sob of fear, and in desperation she turned to her companion, still held by the third member of the gang. The biggest of the three, this unpleasant fellow was pressing his knife harder and harder against his captive's throat, a warning for anybody who might be about to attack. His eyes roamed the trees, searching for a glimpse of the unseen archers.

"Keep back!" There was a high-pitched edge to his voice, brought on by fear. "I'll kill him! Keep back!"

"No!" Trying and failing to struggle to her feet, the girl also stared wildly about. She had no idea if the arrows had come from likely allies or just from rival thieves, and her face was the colour of chalk. "Don't kill him."

"I'll kill the pair of them!" His eyes blazing with fury, the one remaining member of the gang spun his captive around, knife pressing so hard that the blood was beginning to run. "I'll kill--" He got no further. As the girl's already wide eyes widened further, two arrows struck together into the outlaw's back. The knife fell from his hand, and as he and his pinioned captive collapsed into a heap, the girl made a panicked grab for the weapon. She held it up, a manic gleam in her eyes, as though she felt that the small blade could protect her from whatever threat might still be waiting in the trees. Marion lowered her bow.

"It's alright." She stepped out onto the road with the bow held at arm's length, indicating as best she could that she was no threat either to the girl or to her companion. "Nobody is going to hurt you now."

"You - you're a woman." The girl was still holding the knife up ready to fight. Marion smiled gently.

"That's right. But my arrows are as good as anybody's."

"I don't understand." Standing up, doing his best to look proud despite the blood and the dirt on his clothes, the man frowned at her. "Why - I mean who-?"

"We're simply people of Sherwood." As she spoke, using her clear and gentle voice to attempt to put the pair at their ease, Nasir also stepped out onto the road. He appeared to have no interest in the people that he had helped to save, and instead his eyes were on the road, and on the undergrowth that lined it on both sides.

"There may be others," he said simply, and Marion nodded.

"Good grief." The man, a proud looking type perhaps halfway between forty and fifty, stared with unbridled surprise at the black-clad figure before him. "A Saracen. A Saracen in Sherwood Forest... and a girl no older than my own daughter..." He smiled a little faintly, obviously still shaken from the attack. "When the arrows came I expected soldiers from Nottingham Castle... but I confess that I find this more interesting. Is all of Sherwood peopled by such unexpected people as yourselves?"

"I suppose I can understand why you'd think so." With a smile Marion extended her hand in greeting. "I'm Marion of Sherwood, once of Leaford Grange. This is Nasir."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Marion of Sherwood." He shook her hand, and offered Nasir a polite nod. "My name is Leofric, once of Loxley, and this is my daughter May."

"Loxley!" Marion's eyes widened, and the man smiled sadly.

"That's right. Once a beautiful village, as villages go. A pleasant place filled with pleasant people - but to mention it in these days is almost a heresy."

"I know." Marion thought of Robin, still clinging so fiercely to an ideal passed on from his father, a man he barely remembered, who had lived in a village long ago lost to history. "But you won't find anybody around here who'll stop you talking of it. There are many people in these parts who remember Loxley, and who remember what happened to it as well."

"Brave words, Marion of Sherwood." He smiled at her, eyes warm. "I can see that I've come to the right place. But now... we're forever indebted to you, but I think that we must be saying our goodbyes. My daughter and I must find somewhere to sleep before nightfall, and I've no idea how much longer we shall be searching for. Night is never quite as far away as one thinks."

"But you shall be our guests, surely." Shocked by the idea of her two new acquaintances heading off alone into the middle of the forest, Marion looked towards Nasir for support. He remained silent, but his eyes showed a measure of caution. Nasir, however, was always cautious, and she decided to take his silence to mean that he saw no immediate threat. "We can't let you go off again after what you've just been through. At the very least your daughter should rest among friends, and you can have something to eat and drink."

"Well I must say, it would be extremely welcome." Leofric looked from one to the other of the unexpected pair. "If I wouldn't be intruding... There aren't many people these days who are happy to take in strangers."

"That's because too many people live in fear, of the world and of each other." Marion turned a friendly smile to May, who was still subdued and uncertain. "Anybody who knows the importance of remembering a place like Loxley, is friend enough to most of the people of Sherwood. There's no reason to be afraid here, so long as you're with us."

"Then we would be delighted to go to your... camp? Or do you have a village within the forest?" Leofric was beaming, a warm and amiable smile that made Marion warm to him even more than she had already. "How many of you are there?"

"Seven." Part of her was warning that she shouldn't say too much, but he would soon see for himself anyway. Besides, it was her duty to welcome these people. She certainly wasn't expected to abandon them to the dangers of Sherwood, after what they had just been through? "We've been together now for several months."

"And you chose to live in a forest?" May had found her voice, although she used it only quietly. Marion smiled.

"It's the best place to be free," she said gently. "In the villages, and the places between the villages, we're told what to think, do and say, and not given any means to provide for ourselves. The alternative is to try to find a new way, and then face the same fate as Loxley for daring to try it." Her eyes lowered, for in her long ago life in the safety of Leaford Grange she had known no such hardships. "Here in Sherwood we hold our own counsel."

"You speak of dangerous things." Leofric's face was serious, though his eyes showed the warmth of sympathy and understanding. "And I think we really have come to the right place. Lead on Marion. If your friends will welcome us, we couldn't be happier than to accept your invitation."

"Then it's settled." She was happy, without quite knowing why. "Nasir, follow on behind us, just in case there's somebody watching." He gave a nod, and without another word Marion took the reins of the nearest horse and began to lead it back along the road. Robin would be worried about her, and perhaps a little cross that she had not answered the whistle, nor returned to camp at the sound of it. What would he say, however, when she introduced her guests as natives of Loxley?

"This is very good of you." May seemed to be recovering now, and Marion was glad to see it. She was a pretty girl with a bright shine in her eyes that was starting to assert itself again. It would be good to have another woman to talk to, thought Marion. Somebody of her own age. She couldn't remember a time when she had had that, for even in the days before her virtual imprisonment under the guardianship of the brothers de Rainault, her only female companionship had been in the form of servants. A nurse old enough to be her father's mother; a pair of giggling girls several years older than herself... none of it the stuff of true friendship. Here, however, was the promise of something different; and Marion found that she was looking forward to the conversations that might be to come.

**********

Robin ducked another blow that had come close to shattering his skull, and glared his annoyance at his attacker. Scarlet grinned at him.

"You're just not quick enough Robin."

"It doesn't help that you have more enthusiasm than all the Sheriff's men put together." Brushing his hair from his eyes Robin smiled wickedly, and tried a swift blow of his own. Scarlet stumbled back, taken by surprise, and almost dropped his staff.

"So you can fight dirty!" He sounded delighted at this discovery. "There's hope for you yet, Loxley."

"But not for you, Scarlet!" Coming up behind the smaller man, Tuck hit him lightly on the stop of the skull with his own staff, a mock blow in place of the decisive one that would have ended the fight for good. "You're too easily distracted. If I was one of the Sheriff's men you'd be dead by now."

"Yeah, but you're not." Scarlet had no intention of playing dead no matter how obvious Tuck's victory had been. "If you were one of the Sheriff's men you'd be dead already. No soldier from Nottingham Castle is going to creep up on me like that."

"He might. One day." Robin stood his staff up on one end, and leant on it heavily. "We can't always count on the Sheriff employing fools and cowards. He's not as stupid as he looks."

"And neither is his brother," pointed out Tuck. "The abbot has always been a dangerous man to cross, and we've crossed him rather a lot just lately."

"That's because it's fun," said Will, with his usual lack of gravitas. "He gets so angry, and his face changes colour."

"Yeah." John beamed as a happy memory sprang to mind. "All we did the last time was to hang him from that tree branch by his ankles, and he went as red as his Communion wine. If he doesn't want to be bothered by us, he shouldn't be so much fun to torment."

"All the same," continued Tuck, in the same spirit of semi-serious caution as before, "we can't be getting slack. The de Rainaults aren't all about temper tantrums and bad judgement you know. They're both intelligent men, and the Sheriff at least has the ability to make life very difficult for us. If he ever takes it upon himself to really come after us, instead of leaving most of the work to young Gisburne, we could have a serious problem."

"None of which means that some soldier from Nottingham Castle is ever likely to be able to creep up on me." Will threw his staff to Much, and picked up a jug of wine. "I'm getting hungry again. Can we finish that stew?"

"Marion and Nasir haven't eaten yet," Robin reminded him. "Besides, I thought you didn't like it." Will's answer was mumbled indistinctly through a mouthful of wine, but it was audible enough for Robin to be sure that it was something rude.

"Marion will be coming back soon, won't she Robin?" Reminded by the mention of her name that her return was well overdue, Much laid aside Scarlet's quarter-staff and turned wide, questioning eyes upon his half brother. Robin smiled at him.

"Very soon. She knows I'd worry if she stayed away for too long."

"You're not the only one who'd worry." Tuck was looking meaningfully towards the surrounding trees, obviously searching for some sign of his approaching charge. Marion's spiritual well-being had been entrusted to him a long time ago, and even though she was now married, and technically no longer his responsibility, he still considered it his special duty to watch over her.

"I hear voices." Ignoring the fact that his words had made Much jump and look pale, John laid down his quarter-staff and pulled the wine jug away from Will. "Could be Marion."

"It could be anybody. Could be the Sheriff." Robin took the wine jug away from John, and set it to one side. "Either way perhaps we'd better not all be drunk."

"Hey, who's drunk?" Will's indignation was genuine, although he had good humour enough to pretend to slur his words. "I never get drunk."

"Marion?" Ignoring Scarlet's clownish objections, Robin walked to the edge of the camp. Despite his earlier words he did not really believe that whoever was approaching would be a threat; but he knew that if they were there was no need to fear them. John's hand now lay upon his bow, and Scarlet and the others were always ready. His own fist gripped the hilt of Albion, and he was confident enough that his skill with the sword was defence against any intruder. His instincts, however, didn't lead him to believe that such skills were about to be used.

"Robin!" She appeared out of the greenery the way he had taught her to do; invisible at first, then melting into vision as though from nowhere. "I'm sorry we kept you waiting."

"You're worth waiting for." His eyes had already drifted away from her, and now were a little harder. "Although I wasn't expecting you to bring strangers..."

"Friends." She spoke reproachfully, for there was a part of Marion that was still used to the manners of a rich castle, where guests were always welcome for entertainment and hospitality. "Nasir and I found them in the forest."

"Saved us in the forest," corrected Leofric. He smiled warmly at Robin, and extended his hand in greeting. "I'm sorry. Ordinarily I wouldn't come to you like this. I understand how careful all sensible men are in these times, but my daughter is tired, and she's been through a great deal. All that we ask is some time to rest ourselves."

"We never turn weary travellers away." The sight of Leofric's daughter, clearly exhausted, had had the necessary effect upon Robin's conscience. "I am Robin Hood, and you're welcome to stay with us here."

"And you'll stay for the night, of course." Bustling over to lead May towards the fire, Tuck immediately clicked into his mother hen persona, his round face bright with a warm and gentle smile. "I'm Tuck, a friar of sorts, though I have my arguments with the Church these days."

"My name is May." She smiled back at him, though wearily, and looked back to her father for reassurance. He came instantly, looking rather abashed.

"Yes of course. What must you think of me, leaving my daughter to introduce herself? I am Leofric of Loxley, and it's a pleasure to find myself amongst free men."

"Loxley?" His face showing a seriousness that his friends recognised, Robin crossed over to where the older man now crouched by the fire. "You're from Loxley?"

"I was, yes." Leofric smiled sadly. "But nobody is from there nowadays, are they. It was wiped from the map, and we're not even supposed to remember that it was ever there."

"Not 'there'." Robin's eyes were intense in their passion. "The centre of Loxley is no more than a good bow's shot from where I stand. Loxley is here, and all about us."

"You speak with true feeling, friend." Leofric's eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet. "Do I take it that this particular village is of importance to you?"

"Yes." Lowering his eyes the outlaw let his memory run back over the too few things that he remembered of that long destroyed place. "Long before I was Robin of Sherwood, I was Robin of Loxley. My father was head man there."

"Ailric." The word was a whisper, a dumbfounded gasp. "You're Ailric's boy? By all that's holy I never thought to see this day. Another survivor of Loxley... and to think that it should be little Robin."

"You knew my father well?" It was no surprise to Robin to discover that Leofric had known Ailric, for in a place the size of Loxley all people knew each other. They depended on each other for their very survival, and were closely connected in many ways. But to think that this might be a friend; somebody who could remember his father with greater clarity than Robin himself could... He found that he was filled with a curious sense of urgency to hear more.

"Yes, my boy, I knew your father well." Leofric passed a hand over his face, as though wiping away a sudden and unexpected sweat. "He was my... my cousin, I suppose. Our fathers were related, the way so many people in such places are. I forget the actual details of the blood tie, but at any rate he was my closest friend. We did everything together as boys, and even once intended to marry sisters, Their father rather objected as I recall, and we ended up settling for a pair of cousins." He smiled, and Robin felt himself smiling too. He could almost imagine the two young men going about their courting, making the most of the little freedom and fun available to those as poor and oppressed as themselves. "I remember your mother well. A fine woman, but you were so young when she died. There had been little enough food that year, and the winter was harsh. The fever took many of the villagers before spring came." He shook his head, weariness showing in his eyes. "My own wife died the same year, when May was no more than a day old. It was a difficult time for all of us. A very difficult time."

"I don't remember." If he tried hard, Robin could picture his mother, with her long dark hair and her wise smile. His gift of seeing the future came from her, or so his father had said. It had been a common enough trait, once, in the very long ago days before the Romans had arrived.

"You wouldn't." Leofric's eyes were warm, and perhaps strangely yearning - then abruptly he smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm forgetting my manners again, aren't I. Robin and Tuck I've met, and Marion and Nasir introduced themselves earlier, but I should meet all of you properly. Do you all live here in the forest?"

"Aye, we do." Shaking the hand that was offered, though perhaps showing the task a little too much enthusiasm, John beamed at the older man through the ragged bush of his beard. Leofric blinked in surprise. The giant man, with his loud voice and obvious strength, had been a bit of a surprise. "I'm Little John."

"I can see why you came by that name." Smiling despite the pain in his shoulder that John's energetic greeting had caused, Leofric managed to extricate himself whilst he was still capable of shaking hands with Will. "And you?"

"Will Scarlet." As usual Will's own greeting was less welcoming, for he was always suspicious of a stranger until given real reason to feel otherwise. He smiled though, and was polite enough. "And this is Much."

"Hello Much." Seeing the nervousness as well as the eagerness in the boy's eyes, Leofric adjusted his smile to one of more obvious gentility. "I'm pleased to meet you."

"Did you really know Robin's father?" Never one to be terribly subtle, Much didn't want to wait before finding out more about the new arrival's strange link with Ailric. "I never knew him, but my father and he were friends. My father looked after Robin, so we're brothers."

"Then you must be the miller's boy." Leofric nodded slowly, then eased himself down into a sitting position beside the fire. His legs, it seemed, were stiff after his travels. "Yes, I knew Ailric. It all seems so long ago, but much as I would like to talk about it, my daughter and I should be on our way. We've a long distance to travel, and even if we are going to stay here for a while there are other things I should be doing. The horses..."

"Nasir will take care of the horses." Sitting down beside Leofric, Robin gestured for somebody to serve the guests some stew. The older man turned his head, looking towards the edge of the clearing, where the Saracen was indeed engaged upon looking after the two animals. The former resident of Loxley smiled gratefully, and allowed himself to relax a little.

"You're very kind, Robin. All of you are. May and I never hoped to find such hospitality."

"Where are you heading?" asked Tuck, handing over a full plate. May took a sip of wine, and smiled up at the friar, her eyes bright and warm now that she was recovering so well.

"London," she said, with a fair amount of pride. "My father thinks that we can make the king listen to us. Once he knows how bad things are under the Sheriff of Nottingham, he'll be sure to demand changes."

"Now May, you shouldn't simplify matters so." Leofric shook his head, the weary look returning to his eyes. "I don't really know what we're going to to do in London, but even if the king is there right now, he probably won't agree to listen to the likes of us. We're only going because... of a dream that I had. You'll think me a fool for it, but if I'm right there's more than a little of your father in you, Robin, so perhaps you believe in such things..."

"What things?" Robin's voice was gentle and steady, the firm and reassuring voice that had so often chased away the fears of simple villagers and frightened children. "Everybody gets a fair hearing here, whoever they are, and whatever their claims."

"Good." Leofric nodded. "That sounds like your father speaking. The truth... the truth, no matter how strange it sounds, is that Herne has spoken to me. He came one afternoon in a dream. Oh I know what you're probably thinking. He's a spirit, a legend... but for what it's worth he's a legend that your father believed in the way that most men believe in the trees, and the flowers, and every other unquestionably real thing that they see around them. I'm not sure that I used to believe all that much myself... We heard stories, about sightings at festival time, but I wasn't sure. Not really. And then just a few days ago I had a dream. I fell asleep beside a river at the edge of another forest, two days' walk from here. He told me that I had to go to London. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do when I get there, except that it has something to do with the Sheriff." He shrugged. "And so there you have it. I suppose you think that I'm a fool? If the weather was better I'd think that I'd had too much heat, but it hasn't been quite that hot lately."

"No." Robin stared into the fire, thinking about his own meetings with Herne. It made sense, surely, that this relative of his would also be able to see the Lord of the Forest, and would be receptive to one of Herne's strange messages? "No, I don't think that you're a fool, or that you've been touched by the sun. There are very few people around here who deny the existence of Herne, and if you say that he spoke to you, I believe you."

"We all do." Marion sipped at her wine, and thought about the good fortune that had brought this man and his daughter to the home of the outlaws. "Robin..."

"Yes." He nodded slowly, not needing to ask what she had been suggesting. "Leofric, if you have a mission that Herne has given to you, and if it means that you and May have to make such a long and dangerous journey, we won't hear of you going through it all alone. You'll wait here for a day or two perhaps, and rest properly, and then we'll go together. You need the protection. There are a lot of thieves and cut-throats between here and London."

"Robin..." John's voice carried warning, and a plea for a little thought. "Is that really a good idea? We have responsibilities here in Sherwood."

"Yeah, and you know what King Richard thinks of us." Will shook his head. "We can't go running off to London, whatever dreams somebody's been having."

"We'll talk about this later." Robin's eyes threw daggers at the others, and they knew him well enough not to try continuing the argument just yet. "Much, John, take the watch. Don't go too far from the camp, and stay close together. I'll send somebody to relieve you as soon as it gets dark."

"Right." Clearly still dubious, John rose to his feet. He might disagree with the things that were being said, but Robin was still the leader. "Come on Much."

"I'm coming." Much scrambled to his feet with his usual display of merry haste. "Are we going to London soon then Robin?"

"Not now Much." John hurried him away, although it was obvious that the boy did not appreciate being treated in such a fashion. Shaking off the bigger man's firm hold, he scowled and lowered his voice. Even so the others could still hear him, as he traipsed off out of the clearing and into the trees.

"I was only asking, wasn't I. And besides, maybe it'd be good to go to London. Never been that far. How will we find the way, John?"

"Shut up Much." The voices faded, and Robin turned away from watching the place where his two friends had disappeared. The resolution on his face had not lessened.

"We'll have to make plans," he said evenly, not meeting Scarlet's eyes. The former soldier scowled at him.

"You bloody are planning to go there, aren't you. Robin, we don't know the first thing about these people! You can't go leaving Sherwood, and running off to London, just because somebody that you've never met before claims he had a message from Herne."

"Will!" Although anger showed in Robin's eyes, it was Marion who admonished Scarlet. Her old training in matters of courtesy and proper behaviour came into play, increasing her indignation at his outburst. "Not in front of our guests!"

"No, that's quite alright." Leofric smiled at her, and at Scarlet. "He's entitled to his opinion, and it's an understandable one. You people don't know anything about me, and yet here you are offering to follow me all the way to London. I don't mind in the slightest if some of you are suspicious. I'm sure that I probably would be, if I were in your position."

"That's very understanding of you." All the same, Robin glared at Will. He was rather of a mind to send the inflammatory fellow off to stand guard with John and Much, but decided against it. Scarlet was already angry, and there was no point in making things worse. Instead he turned around, looking to where the two horses were happily grazing at the clearing's furthest edge.

"Nasir? Come and have something to eat. You haven't had anything yet." There was no answer, and he looked around for the quiet black figure. "Has anybody seen Nasir?"

"Not in a while." Tuck looked up in surprise. "You know him. He often wanders off."

"He'll be back." Marion gave Robin's arm a squeeze, and rested her head against his shoulder. "Don't worry about it now."

"There are things I want to discuss." Robin was cross, without quite feeling that he had the right to be. "London's a long way away, Marion. We can't just get up and go."

"Then I'll go and look for him." Obviously in a huff, Will rose to his feet. Robin sighed.

"Sit down Will. There's no reason for you to go off as well."

"Yeah, I know." Scarlet took a last drink of wine from the jug, then flashed a smile at the obviously subdued May. "You make your plans, Robin. You can tell the rest of us about them later."

"Will..." Loxley wasn't sure whether to be angry or just frustrated, but he could see that neither would have any effect. Scarlet was already walking away.

"Oh dear." Leofric stared unhappily at his untouched plate. "I seem to have caused a few problems, don't I. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Putting his arm around Marion, and smiling reassuringly, though distractedly, at his guest, Robin thought about the clearly angry Scarlet. As usual they had collided head on, without trying to talk things through properly, and as usual he was left feeling frustrated. All the same though, surely in this case it was Scarlet's fault and not his own? When fate brought him a man who might even be a relative; a man who was on a mission for Herne, who could expect him to refuse to offer his help? Admittedly he wasn't really thinking straight just now, but that would clear. In the meantime all that he wanted to think about was the fact that here was a man who had known his father; a man who could tell him things that he had never known.

"Perhaps we'd better leave." Leofric reached out for his daughter's hand, ready to lead her away from her comfortable place beside the fire, but Robin moved quickly to stop him.

"No." His smile was as gentle and as genuine as ever, even though his thoughts were still a little troubled. "Stay. Please. You were meant to come here, and Marion was meant to bring you. Don't leave now."

"If it's what Herne wants, I'll be happy to stay." Leofric smiled back at him, in a way that, strangely, brought long buried memories of Ailric rising to the surface of Robin's mind. The outlaw chief nodded in certain confidence.

"It's what he wants. Of course it is. Why else would he have sent you here?"

"Why else indeed." Leofric nodded. "Thankyou Robin. In that case we accept your invitation - and in the morning we'll head for London. Your father would be proud of you."

"Thankyou." Robin was thinking of his new father as much as of his old, but whether Leofric had been speaking of Ailric or of Herne didn't matter. All that mattered now was London, and whatever it was that Herne wanted done when they arrived.

**********

Will wasn't sure exactly why he was so angry. Leofric was a genial enough sort, and his daughter was pretty and seemed sweet. Robin had every right to want to help them, especially since they were relatives of his. Will wondered how he would feel, if relatives he had never known about had suddenly appeared one day; especially if he had been raised, like Robin, with few memories of his home and family. He would probably want to help them, he decided grudgingly, particularly if they came on work of Herne's. So why did he feel so angry? It wasn't jealousy, surely? He didn't feel this way because Robin seemed to have shut the rest of them out so readily, in order to focus himself upon the new arrivals. He wasn't threatened by Leofric's presence - or at least he hoped not. Nothing lasted forever, after all, and if this was an indication that their time together here in Sherwood was soon to end, he shouldn't allow himself to get too sentimental about it. Will was a loner, and had been ever since the death of his wife. He didn't need these people. He didn't need the fellowship of the band within Sherwood Forest. He didn't need to worry about what might happen if Robin really did decide to head off down to London.

The afternoon was growing older, and the shadows thrown by the trees and bushes were longer than they had been. Dusk was a long way away, but Will still felt a little cold, as though he could already feel the day's heat diminishing. He didn't want to go back to the camp though, with its hearty fire and friendly company. Right now he didn't feel like being there, with Leofric and Robin, listening to them discussing their plans. Just because he didn't understand why he felt such anger towards them was not reason enough to stop feeling that anger, at least in his opinion. He wanted to be angry for a while longer yet; and with that in mind he wandered off towards the river. It was quiet there, and he could fume and simmer as much as he liked, without the need to calm down.

He came upon the river at the place where he and the others most often went to swim; a natural widening of the waters, with gently sloping banks and thick tree cover. Much, taking a break from his usual timidity, had been the first of them to try leaping out of the trees and into the water, and since then it had become a frequent game. Even the usually reserved Nasir joined in with the games of daring, and over time the mutual goading had led all of them to climb further up into the branches, looking for increasingly dangerous heights from which to leap. Will might have smiled at the thought if he had been in a better mood; instead he let the happy memories of the most recent set of water games make him even more angry with Robin. What did he think he was doing, suddenly deciding to leave all of this behind for a voyage to London with a man he knew nothing about?

"Will." The quiet voice of Nasir might have made another man jump, but Will merely froze briefly, then spotted the dark clad figure and let himself relax. Marginally. What was Nasir doing here? he wondered; then realised how angry he was to find that he wasn't going to be alone. He scowled.

"What do you want?" It was a pointless question, since it was the kind that Nasir never answered, at least not verbally. True to form he heard nothing in reply, and sighed. "Robin wants to discuss London," he continued sulkily, remembering his hasty excuse for leaving the camp. He had actually been supposed to be looking for Nasir, not bemoaning the fact that he had found him. "We're supposed to go back to the others and talk it over."

"London?" Nasir frowned, and Will could well understand the mixed emotions behind the expression. He was having enough problems himself with the notion of heading down to the capital.

"Yeah. I thought you were still around when we were talking about that? Leofric is on some mission for Herne, and Robin wants to help him. It's going to be quite an excursion by the sound of it. Crazy. They're all crazy."

"In London nobody knows we are wanted," Nasir reminded him. Will nodded.

"No danger, that what you reckon? I don't know. There's always danger in our lives, Naz. Always. Who knows what this mission of Herne's is, anyway? Leofric reckons it's something to do with King Richard, and if that's the case we're all in trouble. He hates us, and he knows that we're wanted. So do half his retinue probably." Nasir's only answer was a nod, and Scarlet scowled. "Bloody London. Who wants to go there, anyway? Passed through it once back when I was a soldier, and it's pretty depressing. Like Nottingham, only maybe a bit bigger. Full of animals and beggars, and Normans pretending that they're in control of it all. Horrible place."

"If Robin believes that Herne wishes it, he will go." Nasir's dark eyes turned back in the direction of the camp. "But you will not?"

"No. I've got no reason to go to London. I reckon if Robin wants to go there, and if Herne really does want him to, then they've both got to have their reasons. Doesn't bode well for what we've got going up here though, does it."

"You think that Robin will not return?"

"I think he probably doesn't have much reason to, no. Why would he? You know how he feels about his father, and now this other relative turns up, with as many stories as Robin wants to hear about Loxley and the people who lived there. If he thinks he can do the work Herne chose him for down in London, or wherever else Leofric leads him to, that's what he'll do. They've been together less than an hour, and they're already acting like they've known each other all their lives. I'm telling you, Naz; Robin won't be coming back here, back to all of this. He'll stick with his family."

"Perhaps." They stood for a moment on the river's edge, then Will sighed heavily and threw himself down to the ground. Perhaps it was Nasir's usual implacability that was annoying him, or perhaps it was his own attitude. Either way he was beginning to feel drained. He wanted to be happy for Robin, and he wanted to share Nasir's attitude - or apparent attitude - towards it all. Instead all that he could feel was this continual sulky fury. He was bored with it, but it didn't seem about to leave him alone.

"So how about you?" Trying to get comfortable on the river's bank, wondering why he was being plagued by all of the lumps, bumps and unevennesses that he would usually not notice at all, Will picked up the first stone he saw and hurled it into the water. It hit with such force and such noise that he was momentarily startled, and was surprised with himself for having thrown the little missile so hard. Beside him Nasir made no sound, but Will could imagine the angle of lift of one eyebrow, and the glint of a question in the eyes. He didn't bother looking, to see if his imagination was as accurate as he thought.

"Will you go to London?" Qualifying his question unnecessarily, he picked up another stone, and threw this one rather more gently. It skipped only twice before sinking, and he scowled. "Marion will go, so Tuck is sure to. Much will want to go as well, but I'm not sure about John. Usually he'd follow Robin anywhere, but I don't think that he likes the idea of London any more than I do. I don't trust this Leofric character."

"Robin does." Nasir had faith in Robin's judgement, and so, usually, did Will. If truth be told he didn't really mistrust Leofric so much as dislike - and perhaps resent - him. As Nasir's words sunk in, he nodded his head.

"You'll go then? Even knowing what King Richard's welcome is likely to be? London isn't like Sherwood you know. You can't hide so easily, or rely on the loyalty of the locals." He glanced up and saw the steady eyes looking down at him; the expressionless face so typically unreadable that he almost smiled. It had been a stupid line of questioning from the beginning of course; naturally Nasir would go with Robin, just as Marion would, and Much and Tuck, and John; and, for that matter, probably Scarlet himself. Even though it had turned out, in the end, to be for the best, Will still felt guilty for not having gone with the others into Nottingham, when they had been summoned there by King Richard barely a month or so before. Whatever his convictions and doubts, he didn't think that he wanted to break ranks again so soon.

"I still say it's a horrible place," he muttered to himself, apparently trying to convince himself that he truly did want to remain behind in Sherwood. "It's depressing. And it's full of Normans. Been there?"

"Yes." Nasir sat down beside him. "When I first came to this country."

"If my first sight of England was a grimy little port full of Norman soldiers, I think I'd turn around and go right back to where I'd come from." Will grinned, a sure sign that he was recovering from his earlier sulk. "Provided I wasn't a guest of the Baron de Belleme, I suppose." Nasir's eyebrows flickered in a display of something that might have been amusement, or might just have been despair at Scarlet's warped sense of humour, and Will's grin grew even bigger. "Come on. We'd better get back to camp before the others head off to London without us."

"I thought you did not want to go." The questioning frown was more a gentle mockery than a real lack of understanding of Will's motives, and Scarlet knew it. He clapped the other man on the shoulder.

"I don't want to go; but I'll be damned if I'll be left behind and let Robin lead the rest of you into danger. You need me to look after you all." Nasir's eyebrows swivelled into another subtle expression of amusement, and Scarlet scowled at him. "Come on. But if it turns out that this is a trap, I'm holding you responsible. You found Leofric." The dark head nodded in acquiescence, before Nasir rose smoothly to his feet. Scarlet sighed.

"You can be a difficult man to have a conversation with, you know that?" Again a slight nod; a slight movement of dark eyebrows, and Will had to laugh. "Honestly - if all Saracens are like you, your country must be the quietest place there is."

"Not when it is full of Normans." Nasir began to lead the way back to the camp, and Will followed in his wake. The afternoon was still ageing, the shadows still lengthening, and evening was growing ever closer. Will felt hungry again. Being angry was hungry work.

"Maybe Leofric and his daughter have gone," he muttered hopefully, thinking how much nicer it would be if there was no more need to think of London. "Robin might have seen sense." There was, as ever, no answer, and he kicked a few small stones out of his way. Maybe sulking had been the better plan after all. "Maybe--"

"They will not leave now." Nasir's eyes were on the sky, which was showing signs of darkening. Dusk might not yet be upon them, but apparently a rainstorm soon would be. Will groaned. Not just rain, but the necessity of sharing their meagre shelter with a pair of travellers he had quite convinced himself of the need to dislike. Could this day get any better?

"Maybe it won't rain much," he offered optimistically, even though a fool could have told that they were in for a deluge. They would be lucky if the forest paths would even be safe to use by tomorrow, and the likelihood of Leofric and May leaving soon was fading as fast as the brightness of the sun. "Well maybe--"

"Maybe we should set our thoughts to London." Nasir did not sound especially enamoured of the idea, although admittedly he rarely sounded enamoured of anything. Will nodded. His friend had a point. Whatever the weather did, and whatever doubts there might be, the signs all pointed resolutely towards one fact. They could think what they liked, and worry to their hearts' content, but it seemed likely that they were going to London.

And if Robin had made his decision, then that, inevitably, would be that.

**********

Robin made no comment when Will and Nasir finally arrived back at the camp. Wordlessly Nasir went to the fire, stamping it out with leather-booted feet that were apparently heat resistant. With Tuck's help he was already stowing away the remainder of the food, along with their cooking gear, in the large strong box that had become the repository of all their stolen goods. Leofric watched, obviously impressed, as they hoisted the box, on a rope, up to Marion, already waiting in the branches of a large tree. Their actions had all the expertise that came from long practice, for although they had had few enough real rainstorms since coming into the forest, Robin had been insistent that they prepare for such eventualities. He had the experience of a man born and raised in the locality, and he knew the vagaries of the weather only too well. It could be a dangerous enemy as much as could the Sheriff, and Nottingham's whole contingent of soldiers.

"You're expecting rain?" asked May, just before the first drops began to fall. Robin smiled at her.

"Looks like it. Don't worry. Getting wet always seems bad when you've got a dry house that you'd rather be in, but once you've got no alternative you soon realise that it's not as bad as you thought it was going to be."

"It's the snow that we're really looking forward to," piped up Tuck with a smile. "Can't wait for the winter, can we?!" Will glared at him, and he sighed. "Well some of us like to remain cheerful, anyway."

"Cheerful's for when the sun comes out again, and we know everything's alright." Will didn't add that cheerful was also for when the talk of London was over, and their guests long gone. He just thought it.

"Some people don't like being optimistic." Well aware of the thoughts that were running through Will's mind, the way that he always seemed to know such things, Robin began to lead the way into the trees. There were caves near the river; small ones, but adequate enough where most showers were concerned. The rain was coming down thick and fast before they reached this minimal sanctuary, and May did not look encouraged when she saw the only shelter that she was likely to have.

"I wish we hadn't left home," she said miserably. Her father laughed, and led the way inside the most easily accessible of the caves. It did not go far back, but it was big enough for all of the outlaws to sit down, without anybody being too cramped. Will and Nasir led the horses to a second cave, tethering them to some heavy rocks, and checked the place over for its rainworthiness. The horses would be comfortable enough - and just for a while Will contemplated remaining with them. They, after all, would not have to listen to unending chatter about London. He followed Nasir in the end though, heading back to the main cave, where the others were jus getting comfortable. Shaking some of the water out of her hair, Marion smiled kindly at May.

"It's only rain," she said sensibly, with the air of one who had long ago become used to it. In point of fact she wasn't sure if she would ever become inured to the sensation of cold water pouring down her back, and no likelihood of warmth and dryness returning any time soon. "Robin, should we call John and Much?"

"Rain isn't really a reason to abandon the watch." Robin sighed, staring out at what was rapidly becoming a sheet of water beyond the cave's entrance. The air had been feeling increasingly thick, and he could tell that a storm was probably brewing. Much would be terrified if he was caught out in the middle of a thunder storm, and that was reason enough to make a hurried decision. "Alright. It'll take a special kind of signal though. They'd never hear a whistle even if they were only a stone's throw away."

"An arrow?" She was already pulling one from her quiver. Robin eyed it speculatively, and then nodded.

"Tie something around it. Something bright." He grinned. "But do you know which direction to shoot it in?"

"Very funny Robin." Giving him the kind of withering glare that had saved her more than once from would-be suitors summoned by her guardians the de Rainaults, Marion set about the task of tying the brightest piece of material available around the shaft of her arrow. May had offered her the piece, torn from the hem of her dress; a loose, flapping piece of mud-soaked, crimson wool. She watched with interest as Marion peered out of the cave mouth, struggling to get an exact bearing in the rain. Robin, she knew, was grinning, waiting to see if she could manage the task unaided, but fortunately she had had time enough to come to know this part of the forest well. Her forestry skills were still developing, but she was outlaw enough by now to be able to do this relatively simple task; and setting the arrow to her bowstring, she fired off the single shot. The arrow arched beautifully through the deluge, and she smiled proudly as she saw it heading in just the right direction. Robin nodded.

"Nice shooting."

"I know." She smiled up at him, then set the bow aside and went back to May. It felt strange playing the part of weathered and experienced archer whilst in the company of a girl who reminded her so much of how she herself had been just a few short months before. She had been pretty miserable too, the first time that she had been caught in a downpour. May had perhaps not had the privileged upbringing that Marion had enjoyed for so long, but she was clearly no hardened peasant. Her father had obviously brought her up far more gently since the fall of Loxley than he would have done had the village not been destroyed.

"You must think that I'm terribly silly." Guessing Marion's thoughts, May smiled up at her, embarrassed. "It's just that I've not had that much discomfort in my life. I know it's nothing but a rainstorm, but... well. It's still not very nice."

"I don't think you're silly. The first time I got caught in the rain I wanted to run straight back to Nottingham Castle and ask for my old rooms back." Marion laughed at the memory. "The only room I'd have been offered was the castle dungeon, but I didn't care. The cold I was used to. Castles are horrible, draughty places at the best of times. It was just being so wet, and never being able to get dry. The rain must have lasted for three days, and I was wet all that time, and cold, and we couldn't start a fire, because the wood was all too wet, so there was no respite at all. We didn't have much food then, either."

"I can see why you decided to stay on then." May managed to laugh, then turned her attention towards trying to make herself look more presentable. Her hair would have to remain straggly and wet, but she made a fair stab at gathering her clothes more neatly about her. "I hope we don't get caught in rain like this when we're on the road."

"If we do then we'll just have to walk faster, won't we. Keep warm that way." Leofric smiled, sitting down beside her. "Never look for troubles when you don't have to, May."

"No, father." She nodded firmly. "Herne will guide us, and keep the path clear."

"Precisely." Her father seemed delighted. "And now Robin. About London."

"Yes." Robin caught Will's eye, and wondered briefly how much support he could count on from his little band of men. They hadn't really known each other all that long, admittedly, but they had been through enough since then to have become close. Could he have underestimated their bond? Will didn't look as though he was prepared to follow him anywhere, and even Tuck looked doubtful. He opened his mouth to speak, but a peal of thunder, already almost overhead, prevented him. In the confined space of the cave the noise was terrific, and made conversation pointless.

"Oh dear." Looking towards the door, Tuck spoke up as soon as the thunder had died away. "Much won't be happy."

"They'll be here soon." Robin felt rather bad for having made the boy go to stand guard with John, even though he hadn't had any idea at the time that the storm was on its way. It wasn't usually hard to see the telltale clouds in the middle of the forest, but obviously this time they had escaped him.

"Are you sure they can find their way in this weather?" Clearly concerned, Leofric rose to his feet and went to the mouth of the cave. Vision was severely limited, for the rain had by now reached truly impressive proportions. Robin opened his mouth to respond, but was once again interrupted by thunder. It was Will who answered in the end, as soon as the world was more or less silent again.

"They'll be alright. Find their way around blindfolded, no problem." It was rather an inaccurate boast, for John was still learning the many paths of Sherwood, and in weather like this Much's own impressive knowledge of the area wouldn't be a great deal of use. He would be too frightened to lead the way. Leofric seemed satisfied though, and nodded his greying head.

"And in the meantime," he observed, with an air of determination in his voice, "perhaps this rain isn't such a bad thing after all. We've got the chance to get to know each other, while we're trapped in here. If we're planning a journey all the way to London, when we don't know a thing about each other, it's only going to lead to conflict between you and your friends, Robin."

"Wise words," said Tuck, with the suggestion of relief in his eyes, and Leofric smiled.

"You don't quite trust me, do you." There was amusement in his voice, but also the hint of a certain satisfaction. "You're a sensible man, friar."

"I hope so." Tuck returned the smile. "So what is there to find out? Talking in the rain doesn't necessarily guarantee truth."

"No." Leofric's steady gaze took in the others in the cave, from Robin, who had accepted him from the outset, to Will and Nasir, waiting by the entrance and showing little interest in the conversation. "But I'd like to clear the air. A lack of trust is self-destructive, and I feel sure that Herne wishes us all to get along. Why else would he have sent me to you, or sent two of you to rescue me?"

"Too much trust is just as self-destructive as the lack of it." Turning away from his fixed stare into the rain, Will let the heat in his eyes blaze upon Leofric for a moment. "It doesn't pay to trust too many people."

"In this world few truer words can be spoken." Leofric shook his head sadly. "I'm sure it wasn't always so, but the Normans have brought many bad things with them. Good things too though perhaps. Hatred unites us, and we were never that united a country before. Perhaps, if we can get around the lack of trust, we can all come together some day to strive for something better. Wouldn't that be a fine thing, Scarlet?"

"Maybe." Looking shifty, as he always did when he knew that somebody had bettered him in an argument, Will glanced away again. "But I still say that it's not always a good idea to trust too much."

"And you're probably right." Leofric's calm eyes turned next to Nasir. "And what of our Saracen friend? What do you think of my daughter and I, and our plan to go to London?"

"You must do what you think you must do." Nasir's soft voice sounded faintly eerie in the close air of the cave, but his words were spoken placidly enough. "As must we all."

"Sounds to me as though we've all made up our minds, as much as they're ever going to be made up." Robin was toying with a piece of stone that he had found on the cave floor, one of the strange chunks of rock that turned up from time to time, with weird creatures caught inside, or perhaps carved by some anonymous craftsman. It wasn't any animal that he recognised, but he found it pleasing to the eye. Leofric nodded.

"I don't want to tear you away from your work here, Robin."

"My work is wherever there are Englishmen. Perhaps it doesn't even have to be that limited." Loxley thought about the pledge that he and his companions had made, to help anybody who needed them, and had to conclude that Herne could just have easily have intended him to fulfil his purpose on the other side of the world, as here in Sherwood. When he thought of it like that, London was not so far away after all.

"Then it seems that we're decided." Tuck shook his head from side to side, comically woeful. "But London's a long, hard walk, Robin. A very long, very hard walk."

"I know." Loxley shrugged. "But there's no need for us all to travel together. In fact several groups might be better, for security."

"Or might make it easier for us to be picked off," added Will, who was still in an argumentative mood. Robin shook his head.

"Who'd be trying to? For that to be a concern, somebody would need to know that we're making the journey. And besides, we're as capable of defending ourselves in small groups as we are in a larger one."

"Will has a point though. We both have enemies Robin." Leofric looked towards his daughter, huddled into a ball beside Marion. "Perhaps if my daughter was to remain here. That way she would be safe, and if one or two of your people stayed with her, they needn't be a part of the trip to London. Certain amongst them don't seem entirely happy with the idea anyway."

"I'm not staying behind." Looking worried by his words, May reached out a hand to him. "Don't ask me to do that, father. I'm coming with you."

"It could be dangerous. It could be a fool's errand." He smiled at her kindly, and patted her hand. "But you're right. I shouldn't leave you behind."

"Who's being left behind?" Appearing in the mouth of the cave like some giant, shaggy dog, John shook a cascade of water droplets from his hair and beard, before stripping off the layers of fur that hung about his shoulders and chest. His face was all smiles, although he was obviously cold. "I thought that we were all going to London?"

"We are." Robin raised a hand in greeting, then ordered Will to make a fire. It would have to be a small one, given the limited size of the cave, but anything would be a help to John. Beside him, looking as though he had been dragged from the depths of the sea, Much was even more bedraggled.

"We're not going now are we Robin?" he asked. John laughed, banging him on the back with such gusto that a fresh shower of water flew from both of them.

"Bit of water never hurt anybody, lad."

"It's not the water I'm worried about." Wringing out his clothes as best they could, the hapless miller's son began stamping his feet in an effort to get warm. "We're not going yet are we Robin? We will wait until the storm ends?"

"We're certainly not going in the dark." Robin leaned back to watch as Scarlet collected together some of the dry wood that they had left stored in the cave, and began to try to light it with a pair of flints. Nasir was helping with a steady supply of tiny twigs and dry leaves, and soon a gentle glow was visible "It would be mad to start now. How was it out there? Was the going good?"

"Lousy." John crouched down beside the new fire, wishing that it was already big enough to make him feel warm. "The mud's ankle deep, and it's sure to be worse in a lot of places."

"The soldiers will all be safe in Nottingham tonight though," pointed out Will. "I'll bet that not a single one of them will set foot outside the castle until the rain has long stopped. They certainly won't be coming into Sherwood for a day or two."

"True." Robin nodded. "Which means that it's less likely we'll have to worry about being seen if we start out in the morning."

"But what if the storm is still going?" Looking very pale in the firelight, Much was doing his best not to shiver. John banged him on the back.

"Don't worry about it lad. There's few enough people get killed by thunderstorms you know. You're only usually in any danger if you're near tall trees when the lightening comes."

"We're in a forest!" pointed out Much, entirely unreassured by this attempt at bolstering his courage. "There are tall trees everywhere!"

"True." Will ruffled his hair, almost knocking him into the fire in the process. "But look on the bright side, Much. If you get struck by lightening, at least it'll dry you off nicely."

"Will..." Marion rolled her eyes at Scarlet's warped humour. "So will we be travelling in two groups, Robin?"

"Three I think." Loxley was frowning at the sheets of water beyond the cave mouth, wondering if they were supposed to be an omen, or a message from Herne. He had soon learnt that the forest spirit had many ways of contacting him, but at the moment he could hear nothing inside his mind; no faint words, no summons to some quiet and secluded corner. Perhaps it really was just rain. "I'll go in the first group with Leofric. We can lead the way, and check for likely troubles ahead. The two of us together can probably move faster than a bigger group could."

"Just the two of you?" Marion was obviously disappointed, and he smiled as he reached out and took her hand.

"I know. And I'm sorry, but I think that it's best if you travel with May. She needs you, and you needn't be that far behind us. We might even meet up when we make camp at the end of the day. Nasir, you're to go with the second group. John as well. That leaves the rest of you to take the rear. You'll watch to see if we're being followed, and be our lifeline if it turns out that we're walking into a trap. It could be very dangerous for us in London, and I want somebody watching our backs."

"In that case, we don't have to travel very quickly." Tuck obviously liked that idea. "A lot more civilised than dashing down there with the wind behind us."

"I thought you'd approve." Robin shared a smile with Marion. "And no, you don't have to travel very quickly. In fact it might be better if you didn't. If the rest of us meet with trouble in London, you have to be well clear of it, so that you're sure to be free, and in a position to help us if necessary. Don't risk being close enough that you get caught in the same trap."

"You are expecting trouble then?" Still belligerent, although apparently now relinquishing a little of his anger, Will finally deigned to sit down beside the fire. "You agree that this could be a trap?"

"Whatever we do and wherever we go, Will, there may be traps waiting for us." Robin's voice was reasonable and accommodating, for the last thing that he wanted was to stoke Will's anger up anew. "Herne has many enemies that we have to watch out for." His eyes acquired a new gentility. "But that doesn't give us the excuse to be rude to those who claim to be our friends. Sometimes an imagined threat is just that. Imagined."

"Huh. Maybe." Scarlet sat down, facing Leofric and May. There was something in the way that the girl was looking at him that made his attitude begin to soften, and he managed to summon up a sort of a smile. "But it's still a hell of a thing to do, Robin. All the way to London, for we don't know what..."

"I thought you liked a challenge." Marion, who had had the presence of mind to bring some food along with her, was beginning to share out some of Tuck's flat bread. It was fairly fresh, and the welcome sight of it made Will's smile grow.

"I do." He was crumbling, and they all knew it. "I just like to be careful, that's all."

"Always suspicious." Robin caught Marion's eye, and they both smiled. "Take the first watch, Will. Think things through. If you still feel this way later, nobody is going to blame you for wanting to stay here."

"Huh." Reduced once again to single syllables, Will took the proffered bread and headed back to the mouth of the cave. By the light of the fire the rain, backed by the darkening sky, looked almost pretty, and rather relaxing. Nasir was still standing there, still staring out at the wet, thunderous world. He was obviously thinking, for his expressive brow was furrowed into an eloquent frown. Will didn't need to ask what he was thinking about.

"London," the Englishman muttered without enthusiasm, as he settled himself down again. The Saracen cast him a sidelong glance, but didn't say anything. Will nodded, fairly certain that he had read the other man's expression correctly.

"Yeah," he growled, in answer to the unvoiced opinion. "My sentiments exactly."

**********

Robin was used to dreaming. Most people dreamt, he knew, but most people didn't remember their dreams with quite as much clarity as he did. He almost always awoke in the morning with clear pictures in his mind; a clear idea of the things that his subconscious, his precognitive powers, and Herne, were all trying to tell him. Sometimes the pictures were cryptic, and he had to think things through before he understood them fully, but he would still always be more or less sure of what the messages were.

But that night, as he lay restlessly in the cave, with the thunder tearing the sky apart above his head, his dreams were anything but clear. Herne was there, though not in the forefront. His shadowy shape, recognisable only by the massive head-dress, hung in smoke that drifted in the corners of Robin's eyes. Always in the corner, never where he could see clearly. He tried shouting to his mentor, but the replies were always too distant, too faint, to hear properly.

He didn't know where he was, either. Not at first. There was a road; a wide one, dirty, covered with mud. His feet were slipping and sliding on it, before he was even aware that he was walking. Walking where? Where did the road lead? He found that out almost immediately, when he came upon a milestone, hidden in undergrowth at the road's edge. It was hard to see through the tangle of branches and thorny leaves, but when they were all gone the milestone's simple message was easy enough to read. London, its small, regular script ran, along with a figure that didn't seem feasible. Was it really that far to London? He stared along the road that led south, and wondered if perhaps he was making a mistake. Such a long journey, and all for what? His mind was trying to make one last thing connect, but it wouldn't come; the thoughts unable to form, just like words that wouldn't properly complete themselves on the mornings that followed feast nights. It was frustrating, and his sleeping mind called out for the answers that were denied it.

"Take the boy. I'll come for him by night." His father's voice, speaking the last words that Robin had ever heard him say, echoed through the mist that filled the dream world. Robin turned his head, but Ailric was a long way away, just as he had been when he had turned, that last night, to wish him goodbye. He was galloping away into the darkness, hooves silent, a dark shape huddled over his horse. Yet again something drifted into Robin's mind. Something vague that he couldn't quite hold onto, yet something that was clear enough for him to be fully aware of it. He tried reaching out his hands in his sleep, seeing if the things that eluded him might catch in his fingers. They didn't. What was it that was bothering him so? Why wouldn't Herne come to him tonight? He tried calling again, but his mysterious father had vanished completely. Tired and troubled, Robin didn't see that he had any option but to give up.

It was only when he was sleeping peacefully again; when his mind had ceased to work and his thoughts had ceased to circle, that Herne stepped out of the rain into the mouth of the cave. Nasir, sitting on watch, was frozen as though Time itself had stopped, and his staring eyes didn't see the dark and powerful figure. The other outlaws all slept, as unaware of the presence in their midst as they were of the passing storm. Herne didn't approach them. Instead he merely stood where he was, looking towards the sleeping form of his son, lying with his arms wrapped about his wife.

"Robin i' the Hood..." Herne's voice was soft, like that of a man who has lost his voice to a fever, and cannot make himself heard. Robin didn't stir. Only Leofric moved, and Herne's wise eyes turned to stare sharply at this stranger to Sherwood Forest.

"Speak to your dreams, Robin i' the Hood." Herne's age-old voice rose with an effort to drown the roaring thunder. Robin moved, muttering something.

"My dreams..." A shiver ran through him, and inside his mind the pictures began again. He saw Herne, standing in the distance, staring at him as though through the thickest of fogs. He saw Ailric, riding towards the horizon, without so much as a wave for the son he would never see again. And he saw a village. Loxley, as it had been in the earliest days of his memory. A world he had once known well, but which now he barely remembered. There were people there, working, talking, eating, laughing; men, women and children who were all now dead and gone. All faces that he remembered, when his mind was empty and relaxed. All people that he had once lived amongst.

But not one of them was Leofric.

"Robin?" Woken by his restlessness, Marion reached out a hand to touch her husband's troubled face. He flinched, eyes snapping open to stare around at the darkened cave. By the light of the fire he could see Marion, bent over him in concern; could see the others, all peaceful in their rest. Nasir was sitting by the cave's entrance, methodically sharpening one of his swords, and the rest of the world seemed to be empty. Only shadows moved and breathed.

"Marion." He smiled up at her, apologetic. "Did I wake you?"

"Were you having a nightmare?" She didn't care about her own rest having been disturbed, and her only thought was for him. He squeezed her hand in gratitude for that.

"I don't know. I don't remember."

"I thought that you always remembered your dreams?"

"I know." He shrugged, then pulled her close, glad of Nasir's tact. "But not this time. It wasn't anything important I suppose."

"I suppose it can't have been." She lay down again, settling her head against his chest. "You didn't see anything then? No warnings, or visions?"

"Nothing." He could remember only the shadows, and the thunder that he was sure must have been the cause of his unrest. "Everything is fine."

"Good." Closing her eyes, she turned her mind to London, and to all that they might be called upon to do there. "Then we'd better get back to sleep. It'll be morning soon."

"Yes." He smiled contentedly, happy now that he was relaxed once again. "And we've got a long journey ahead. Goodnight Marion."

"Goodnight Robin." She let sleep take her, as beside her Robin did the same. Soon, once again, the cave was silent and still, and all was at rest there. Beyond, standing motionless in the rain, Herne still stared towards the sleeping figure of his son, but no more words came from his stilled tongue. All that he did was stand, until Nasir's instincts caused the Saracen to look his way. Herne's powers kept him invisible from even the sharpest eyes, but still the Lord of the Forest melted quietly away. He had done all that he could do, and there was nothing left save to trust in but fate and fortune.

It was up to Robin now.

**********

Dawn came late, the heavy clouds keeping back the sun until the morning was already well advanced. Yawning primly, and stretching her stiff arms, Marion slowly sat up. Robin was awake, lying still beside her so as not to wake her up, and he smiled down at her.

"Good morning."

"Not that good." She sat up, rubbing her back. "I've just about got used to sleeping on the forest floor, but I don't think I'll ever get used to sleeping in here."

"With luck the weather won't be so bad that you'll have to." He glanced about, looking around at the others. John had replaced Nasir on guard, and the Saracen had disappeared on one of his periodic wanderings. Will was stretching and yawning, growling that he hadn't slept a wink even though his snores had rivalled the thunder at various points during the night. Leofric was awake as well, rubbing at his jaw as though surprised to find that he was in need of a shave. He smiled ruefully at Robin.

"I'm afraid that it's been too long since I last slept in a place like this. Or perhaps I'm just too old."

"It's nothing to do with age." Rising to his feet, Tuck kneaded his back. "Ouch. Carpets and four poster beds, that's what this place needs."

"I thought monks were supposed to be used to the hard life." Heading over to the fire, Will threw another log onto it, then stared out of the cave's mouth. The rain had stopped, but the world was still wet enough for a faint haze to hang in the air. Mud was everywhere, and every movement of the trees sent more water cascading down. It looked grey and cold, though strangely clean and fresh.

"This monk never thought much of the hard life." Joining Scarlet by the fire, Tuck held his hands out to warm them in the glow. "And he thinks even less of a ten day walk to London."

"It needn't take that long." Shaking Much awake, Robin began sharing out what was left of the bread. "Not unless the weather stays bad."

"Even if it doesn't rain again, it'll still be heavy going at first. The roads will be little more than mud lakes at the moment." Remembering the torrential storm that he had been caught in the night before, John could only imagine how flooded much of the ground must be.

"Water dries. So does mud." Leofric joined the little group in peering out at the world. "We've all seen worse weather than this and lived to tell the tale. Besides, it won't rain again. Not after last night. How could there be any more water left in the heavens?"

"It will rain again." Nasir came from around the side of the cave, his arrival heralded only by the faint swishing of water that swirled around his feet. Clearly the river had flooded its banks. Leofric shook his head.

"The sky is clearing."

"But it will darken again." Nasir, used to a desert life, had learnt to read the unpredictable weather of this alien country very quickly, as an exercise in self-preservation if nothing else. Much scrambled past the rag-tag assembly, and peered unhappily up at the sky.

"He's right," he said sadly, with all the authority of one who had spent much of his life out of doors within the locality. "Probably rain almost as much as it did last night. There won't be thunder again though Robin, will there? Not if we're going to be outside. I hate being out when there's thunder, especially at night."

"It'll be alright." John cuffed him gently around the shoulders. "Tuck and Will won't let anything happen to you. Besides, it'll be exciting making the journey to London. All that way, to a place we've never seen before? You'll not have a thought for the weather once you start thinking that way."

"But won't London be very frightening?" Much could not imagine what the place could be like. Nottingham was frightening, certainly, and London was another town just like it. He had heard tales from wandering traders and old soldiers, of a place with a mighty river full of boats, and well-travelled men from all over Europe and the strange lands beyond, who talked about the weird sights they had seen in far off places. It had to be a special sort of town, if the kings from ages past had chosen to live there. The thought of kings made him remember Richard, and that did little to bolster his confidence. Richard hated all of them, and would kill them if he knew that they were nearby. John shrugged.

"I don't see why it should be any more frightening than anywhere else in the world. Will's been there, haven't you Will? Was it a frightening place?"

"No." Will's words meant little, since he was hardly the type to admit to any fears he might have experienced. "Just horrible. Dirty and smelly and crowded, like any other town. Full of pigs and sheep and far too many people."

"Not to mention far too many soldiers, I'm guessing." John looked back to Robin. "So when do we start out?"

"Leofric and I will leave soon." Handing Nasir some of the bread, Robin stood by the fire for a moment. The doubts of his men had touched his mind and made him think... but he still couldn't find any reason to abandon his quest. Leofric needed his help, and Leofric was, in some way at least, family. Snatches of his dreams the night before floated back, but none of it meant any sense to him. Had there been something about Leofric? He didn't remember. If only Herne would send him some message, no matter how cryptic and strange, then perhaps he could dispel these last lingering doubts. Herne, however, had chosen to keep to himself.

"So it's your last chance to say so if you're staying behind." Marion took Will's arm, as though daring him to say that he wanted to do just that. He sighed.

"I'm not staying behind. I think this is stupid, and I think that we're probably all going to wind up dead or captured; but I'm not staying behind."

"Good." She squeezed his hand, smiling triumphantly, though when she turned to look at Robin her expression was rather more serious. "I still wish that we were all travelling together though. It feels safer that way."

"We'll be together in London." Robin toyed with the bread in his hand, still troubled by the idea that there had been something in his dream the previous night that he was supposed to remember. It wouldn't come, and he had no choice but to throw the thought aside. "But in the meantime..."

"In the meantime you're leaving." She turned her bright eyes to Leofric, realising with a jolt that this was the last moment she had to make her objections. Why hadn't she stopped to think before about how little they knew of this man? Why hadn't she thought before that Robin had trusted the stranger too much and too soon?

"Yes." He had eaten most of the bread, stowing the rest away in case of food shortages further on down the road. "It makes sense, Marion. We should get as far as we can before the rain starts again, in case it's too heavy for us to continue. You're to follow at noon, the others tomorrow morning. Speak to no one on the road, whether they're friends or not. Tell nobody that we're leaving, or where we're going. And don't take risks if you come across soldiers; hide, and let them pass. Nobody is to fight unless they have no alternative, understood?" A mumbled chorus of agreement, some considerably less enthusiastic than others, answered his firm order. "Good. Leofric?"

"I'm ready when you are Robin." The older man turned to his daughter, taking her hand and pressing a quick kiss against her cheek. "I'll see you soon, my dear. Stay close to Marion, and everything will be fine."

"Yes father." She smiled at him, clearly worried. "Be careful."

"Of course my dear, of course. But I'm sure that there's nothing to worry about. I have Robin to look after me." He gave her hand one last pat, then turned about. "Are we ready?"

"Yes." Pulling Marion into a hasty, heartfelt hug, Robin lowered his voice to whisper his own farewell. She smiled to hear it.

"Take care, Robin."

"You too." Stepping back, he raised his voice to address the others. "I'll see you all in London. Herne protect us."

"Herne protect us." The chorus was ragged, unlike the warm chant from camp fire ritual, but Robin didn't find fault. He merely nodded his head in acknowledgement, before walking briskly away.

**********

The Lord of the Forest was restless. Confused. He had a son, but where had that son gone? He couldn't sense the young man's presence any more; couldn't feel him within the boundaries of Sherwood Forest. Something had come between them, interrupting their connection, closing Robin's mind from that of his mentor. It bothered Herne, and it sent the powers of light and darkness into disarray. Thunder roared, and lightening flashed across the sky, matching the darkness and unrest of Herne himself. He closed his eyes and tried to summon Robin; tried to send him the subliminal messages that would ordinarily have brought him running even if he were miles away. This time, however, nobody came. Herne was still alone, standing in an empty forest glade, listening to the storm of his frustration as it split the sky asunder. The rain poured down, flooding the ground at his feet and turning all to mud, covering his feet with water. It soaked his robes and his head-dress, although if he felt any discomfort he didn't show it. His eyes remained closed, staring into the innermost parts of himself, where there should have been the power to contact Robin.

But still Robin didn't come.

"All is not right in Sherwood." Bowing his head, the great antlers seeming suddenly to weigh him down, Herne opened his eyes to the world. The rain might have blinded anybody else, but it was not a hindrance to him. He saw through it clearly; saw the camp where the outlaws had been so recently; saw the cave where they had spent the night. The outlaws themselves he couldn't see at all. They were there and he knew it, but something prevented him from seeing them. Something was hiding them from him; keeping the son from the father. A flicker of anger crossed Herne's ageing face, and the thunder overhead crashed louder than ever.

"My son..." Herne's voice was like the rain; a sharp flow of words with a harshness beneath it. "My son." There was still no answer though; and still no explanation for the silence. Angry and concerned, Herne closed his eyes again, preparing to wait as long as need be; as long as it took to find out what was wrong.

And in the meantime, in answer to his turmoil, the rain beat down harder still.

**********

There were three of them, in the darkest, thickest part of Lincoln Forest. Three women, one old, one middle-aged, one young; all dressed in grey robes, and gathered around a pitiful fire. The oldest of the women, a toothless crone with a voice as ragged as her clothing, turned her increasingly sightless eyes to stare into the flames, jabbing at them with the long staff that she carried. They crackled and spat at her, but they didn't rise up against the wooden staff. Even if it had not been treated to withstand the fire, still they would not have dared burn it.

"They're coming." Her voice was high-pitched and manic, like the screeching of an owl, but it broke from her dry old throat as if disused for so long that it had barely remembered how to work. "All of them."

"We only need two." The middle-aged woman, a dark, raven-haired figure just turning to grey, gripped a book with blackened pages. "Herne's Son, and his wife."

"But we might have seven." The youngest of the women was extraordinarily beautiful, with long red hair, and green eyes that blazed with fires more powerful than they seemed to have any right to be. Her voice was clearer than those of her companions, and an Irish inflection was more obvious within it. "Seven is a good number."

"Seven is a powerful number." The oldest of the women threw back her head and laughed until she shook. "But what of Herne? With Herne himself it could be eight. It could be more than eight."

"With Herne himself..." The youngest woman smiled, nodding her head. Her seniority amongst the group was more plain now, showing in the height of her head and the lift of her shoulders. "Herne's time will come. When we have the son, and the son's wife; when we have their five followers, and all that they can give us... then comes Herne's time." She bent over the fire, raking over the hot coals with her hands, and stirred the cowed flames up into something much greater. "And after that comes his end."

"And then?" The middle-aged woman might have been the voice of reason, but for the excitement in her endless eyes. Her redheaded companion turned her bewitching face towards her, and smiled her own excited smile.

"Without Herne, the magic of England collapses. Norman or Saxon, it'll all fall apart. Without Herne the pitiful powers that keep this country from tumbling into chaos won't have a chance. It'll all be ours."

"To do what we want with," muttered the oldest woman.

"To recreate," added the second.

The young beauty nodded her head in agreement, before stamping out the flames that lapped around her feet. "Or to torment," she said curtly, as she kicked away the glowing ashes, and watched the grass around her smoulder and smoke. "Or to destroy."

**********

When noon came it found the remainder of the outlaws still waiting at the caves, sheltering from another violent downpour. The rain had begun again shortly after Robin and Leofric had left, and it had continued without a break ever since. It was hard to see now; hard to be sure of anything through the sheets of hammering water, and the wind and intermittent thunder made hearing almost redundant. Marion stared out at the vista before her, as she stood in the mouth of the cave. It didn't look to her like good weather to send her on her way down to London. It didn't look like good weather for doing anything save hibernating.

"Perhaps we should wait," she suggested, although every part of her was yearning to start out after Robin. "What do you think, John?"

"I think we'd be crazy to start now," he told her. "But then I think we're crazy for going at all."

"You'd rather stay in Sherwood." She nodded, wondering why she now thought the same herself. It was almost as though, as Robin and Leofric got further away, so her opinion of their venture changed all the more.

"Aye, I'd rather stay here." He smiled at her, as gentle as ever. "But I won't. Robin's expecting us, and this trek is important to him. He'd be hurt to think that we didn't feel the same way he does, at least in part. It's up to you, Marion."

"Then I think we should go." The last thing that she wanted was to set out in the midst of the downpour, but since there was no sign of a change, and since she was not prepared to put her departure off indefinitely, she saw no alternative but to start out now. May nodded in gratitude.

"Thankyou. I'd rather go now. I don't want my father to get too far ahead."

"They won't be moving fast in this weather." John looked over towards Nasir, who was standing towards the back of the cave, idly sharpening one of his throwing knives. "You ready Naz?" An eyebrow quirked itself in answer, and sliding his knife back into its sheath, Nasir joined him at the cave's entrance.

"You don't have to come." May was looking up at him, as though seeing something in his eyes, or reading something in his face, that was invisible to the others. "You're probably not all that used to rain. If you'd rather wait..."

"I have become very used to rain." Offering her the slightest of smiles that somehow managed to say a lot, and yet barely exist at all, the Saracen stepped past them all, out into the heavy storm. Thunder rolled, and Much jumped.

"The forest spirits must be very angry," he whispered, to nobody in particular. Marion put an arm around him.

"I'm sure that's not true." She smiled as she said it, but even so she was beginning to wonder. The ferocity of the storm was unseasonable, and its unrelenting violence had to mean something, surely? Much turned wide eyes to her.

"They are you know. They're angry. Do you think they're angry with us?"

"Why would they be angry with us?" Will ruffled his hair, rather roughly. "We're on their side, remember?"

"Maybe they don't want us to go to London." Much still sounded miserable, and none of the others could offer him any suitable rejoinder. It was May who closed the discussion in the end, stepping out into the rain, and walking away down the path that her father had already taken. She didn't call back, but her actions clearly stated that she was going to London, whatever they were thinking of the task. John rolled his eyes.

"Somebody's keen." He pulled his furs close about him, hoping that they proved to be at least in part waterproof, then smiled around at the others. "I'll see you in London, I suppose."

"Yeah. Good luck." Will clapped him on the shoulder, then nodded a farewell to Nasir. The Saracen inclined his own head in response, then turned about and headed off after the girl. Marion sighed.

"I wish the weather was better."

"So do I." Giving Much a hug that threatened to break the boy's back, John turned about to repeat the process with Tuck. "But something tells me that it's not going to be getting better for a while yet. We're in for a long wet walk."

"A very long wet walk." Marion smiled sadly. "But I suppose it could be worse. At least it's not too cold."

"It could be snowing," agreed Tuck, stepping up to hug her fondly. "You'll take care, won't you little flower."

"Of course." She returned his hug with warmth. "And you must take care as well. I'm expecting to see you again soon."

"Just as soon as we can get to London ourselves. We'll be setting off at first light in the morning." Tuck released her, stepping back. "But for now you'd better be going. Robin's waiting, and you mustn't forget that."

"To think that I ever could." She turned around to look out into the rain. May and Nasir had already disappeared. "Well, goodbye then. And Herne protect all of us."

"Aye." Tuck watched as she and John both hurried off after their companions. "And may the good Lord protect us all as well."

**********

Robin and Leofric spoke little as they walked, the rain battering them both into a tired sort of silence; the thunder rendering speech useless anyway. Leofric's warm demeanour had been dampened somewhat, and the stories Robin had been hoping for; the tales of life in the village he barely remembered; were not forthcoming. He supposed that it was for the best, since he was not really in the mood for straining his ears to catch the words anyway, but he was disappointed nonetheless. His companion seemed different now; more withdrawn, more reserved, and more hostile. Robin put it down to his own imagination, overworked in this peculiar world of descending water, when all save a few illuminated inches seemed invisible. The rest of creation might as well have ceased to exist, for all that he could see or hear of it, and he was finding that this unfamiliar state of affairs was having strange effects upon his senses. Sometimes he thought that he heard the sweet voice of a beautiful woman singing soothing songs; at other times he could have sworn that the raucous cackle of an old crone was floating above the wind. Absurd of course, and he told himself so; yet still the illusions persisted. All he could do was repeat to himself that it was mere foolishness, and that Leofric was still the man he had been before, but in his heart of hearts he was beginning to wonder if he really believed it were true. Again he tried to find Herne within his mind, but again he had to give up in failure. He was on his own, and for the first time since Leofric had arrived in the camp the previous day, he wondered if he could truly be trusted. Was this trip to London really the best course of action? And yet, even as he was doubting the older man, his mind was telling him that all was well; that Leofric was the finest of men. He might have wondered at that, had his mind been working properly; but it wasn't, and hadn't been for some time. All that it could competently grasp, as he plodded on through the fathomless storm, was the firm conviction that Marion was safe. She wouldn't have set out in this rain. She would be back at the caves, warm, dry and secure. That at least was something to hold on to. He managed a thin smile, and was glad that he had set out alone. If Leofric truly was someone to be afraid of, then Robin would be facing his dangers alone. Only when this last reassurance had had time to calm some of his heart's disorder did he think of something else, and renewed his worries and unrest. If Leofric was not to be trusted; if Robin's instincts had indeed failed him on that count; then what of his daughter, May? Quite suddenly it seemed that perhaps Marion wasn't so safe after all, but Robin didn't have a clue what he should do about it. Confused and alone he made one last appeal to Herne, shouting out his questions in the quiet places inside his mind; but still no answer came. Instead, although that might have been merely his imagination, the rain began to beat down harder still.

**********

Marion was sure that there was a valid reason for rain; she knew that it was necessary for making plants green, and getting crops to grow for instance, and there was certainly something to be said for the pleasant feeling of freshness in the air after a thunderstorm - but surely there couldn't be any reason for rain this heavy? Could anybody honestly claim it served any useful purpose that the countryside should be summarily drowned? That the constant echo of thunder, and furious slashing of the lightening at the sky, was doing anything any good? On the contrary - to her it seemed as though something somewhere was angry, and this mad unleashing of so violent a tempest was nothing but the raging of an unchecked temper. She scolded herself for letting her imagination run away with her, and for coming dangerously close to wallowing in unregulated superstition, but still she couldn't quite shake the worries from her mind. Robin would have laughed, she thought, and told her off for behaving like Much. She would have laughed too then, and let all of the tension flow away. But Robin wasn't here, and nothing that she could think of would take away her uneasiness now.

"This is madness." From his position by her side, where he had been doing his best to act as windbreak and shelter for her, Marion heard John's exasperated voice. "We're all soaking wet, and we can hardly see the road. Much more of this and the mud will be up to our knees. We'd best look for shelter, and try again later when the weather's a bit less angry."

"It does seem rather annoyed, doesn't it." Glad that somebody else had noticed the feelings of anger inherent in the storm, Marion strained her eyes to see through the sheets of water. May was still marching ahead, without so much as a backwards glance at her travelling companions. Of Nasir there was no sign. "I'd like to rest for a bit. Robin has probably decided to find shelter as well, so I doubt we'll be falling far behind."

"Aye. We were mad to even think about starting out with the rain coming down like this." John hurried forward a few steps. "May?"

"What?" She didn't look at him, but just kept on walking. John was a little thrown, but he persisted, voice as gentle as ever.

"Marion and I were thinking that it might be best to stop for a while. Just until the rain lessens. Robin and your father are sure to be doing the same, so it makes sense that we don't risk killing ourselves in all this cold and wet."

"Fine." She turned to look at him, and even through the almost impenetrable rain he could still see her eyes, shining at him. "If you want to rest, go ahead. I'm going on."

"But--" She cut him off before his protest could continue, her level voice rising above the pounding water that had otherwise filled his ears.

"My father won't stop, no matter how bad the weather is. Neither will Robin. I don't want to be left behind. They'll be counting on us, come London. We have to be there."

"There'll be plenty of time to catch up before we reach London." He frowned at her. "What makes you so sure that they won't stop?"

"Because I know that they won't. I know my father." Her voice had acquired an edge; almost begun to sound harsh; but abruptly she smiled at him, and he felt his heart glow. "Our mission for Herne means a great deal to my father, and I know that Robin will feel the same way. They won't rest. Neither will I until nightfall." She smiled again, and this time he thought that he saw her eyes shining more brightly, almost as if they possessed a light of their own. "Please feel free to do what you think best for yourself."

"I..." Something about her single-mindedness was very infectious. "Where's Nasir?"

"I have no idea. Does he often go off?" For a second she looked concerned, and her bright eyes roved about, searching as far as they were able given the limited visibility. John smiled.

"You could say that. Probably off watching the road ahead." He sighed. "Alright, if you're sure. We can carry on a bit longer I suppose."

"I don't want to force you." She turned back, looking to Marion. "I have to go, because my father expects it, and I'd imagine that Marion will want to do the same for Robin, but there's no reason for you to accompany us if you really don't want to. Find somewhere dry, rest for a while."

"No." Embarrassed without quite knowing why, almost as if his strength had somehow been questioned, John managed not to blush only by sheer willpower. "I'll stay with the two of you. There's no telling what other fools might be out and about, even if the weather is fit only for fishes." May nodded.

"As you wish. In that case thankyou for your company."

"My pleasure." Well no, not really, he thought, wishing that the girl had had the sense to agree to stop. It was madness to continue. But then, to be honest, it was madness to have started out in the first place; madness to have even thought about heading for London, whatever the weather. Heart heavy, he slowed his pace, and dropped back to rejoin Marion. She looked at him expectantly.

"We're not stopping, are we."

"Not any time soon, no." He scowled, either amused or infuriated by the situation. "She said that I could wait for the storm to end if I wanted, but that you and she would be wanting to go on. The girl's strange, Marion. Very strange."

"I know." She shook her head, and her long, wet hair added its own drops of water to the many falling from the sky. "It all seems so strange, John. It's as though I haven't been thinking straight lately. As though it's only now that I'm waking up again. Could Leofric have used some sort of magic?"

"Aye, I've been wondering that myself. Certainly this all seems a good deal more foolish since he left." John frowned, his brows beetling together to give him a quite fearsome appearance. "But suggesting that means that this is all a trap, and that we're walking pretty neatly into something that's been set up for us. Robin could be in real danger."

"I know." The girl was pale, even more so than the cold wind could excuse. "He seemed so nice. They both did."

"I know. Looks like Will was right to be so suspicious." John shook his shaggy head. "And to think that we've split ourselves up so nicely. If the Sheriff is behind this, we've put ourselves in a pretty little mess, haven't we."

"I don't think it's the Sheriff. It doesn't feel like him. But you're right about us splitting up." She sighed. "Oh John. Do you really think that Robin is in danger?"

"Depends what they want us for, I suppose." He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to make her feel a little better. "I should think he's safe for the time being. It strikes me that we're being led somewhere, and if that's the case, we might all be safe until London."

"I don't think that this has anything to do with London. That was just a nice story. I think that whatever trap this is, it'll be sprung long before we get anywhere near the place. If only the others were here..."

"But they're not." His hand fell away from her shoulder, for he was aware that it was not doing its intended job of reassuring her. "We're fairly capable of handling things ourselves though, Marion. We could overpower that girl without any trouble, and see what this is all about."

"But if there is magic involved, that might put Robin in more danger." She rubbed at her eyes. "I don't know. It's all so confusing. I wish that Herne would tell us something. Surely if Robin was in any real danger, Herne would have been to speak to him by now? He didn't say anything about a vision or a dream last night, and he didn't go off on his own at all."

"I know. But if there really is magic involved here, perhaps there's nothing that Herne can do about it? It would have to be a strong enchantment I would think, but I doubt that it's impossible to separate Herne from his son." John scowled into the rain. "Something's wrong with the world. I can feel it."

"So can I." She looked up at him, and he saw that her eyes were bright with the fierce determination that had always impressed him so much. "We have to get a message back to the others. Warn them of our suspicions."

"Do you think any of us will be allowed to leave?" His eyes focused upon May, striding forward at furious speed. "I don't know what she can do to stop us, but we don't know what she might be capable of, do we."

"But she said that you could rest a while." Remembering that fact with sudden excitement, Marion caught hold of John's arm. "She said that you didn't have to come with us, remember? And earlier it was almost as though she was trying to persuade Nasir to stay behind. I think that she wants me to go with her, just like Leofric wants Robin - but perhaps the rest of you aren't as important."

"You want me to go off back to the others and leave you alone with that... that witch? Marion..."

"We don't know that she's a witch, John. To be fair we don't even know that she's an enemy. She and her father might have been telling the truth from the beginning, for all we know. We might be doing them a great injustice with all this suspicion."

"You don't believe that?"

"No, not really. I'm right though, and you know it. If there is a trap being sprung here, it seems to be for Robin and myself, rather than for the rest of you. And somebody has to tell the others about our suspicions."

"I'm not leaving you alone." His eyes were fierce, for he was determined not to be ordered away. She smiled.

"I'm not alone. Nasir is probably nearby. If something happens I'm sure that he'll be here in seconds, with the speed he has. Besides, he's bound to return before long anyway."

"Then send him. He can get back a lot quicker than I can."

"But you can go now." She laid a hand on his arm. "Please John. If we're right and there's something terrible going on here, somebody should go back. She's already given you an opening."

"I suppose." He covered the hand on his arm with one of his own, much larger, hands. "But you'll have to promise me that you won't tell her about our suspicions. Don't go trying to get anything out of her. Alright?"

"I'm not a fool, John." She stopped for a moment. "Good luck."

"And to you. Try to get a moment with Nasir to discuss things with him, but not if it draws too much attention to you. He's probably got his own suspicions anyway. Canny fellow is Nasir."

"I know." Stepping back, distancing herself from John, she smiled at him one last time. "Go quickly. Don't stop for anything."

"Or anyone. Don't worry." He knew that he should have been turning away, but he lingered for a moment longer anyway. "No risks, Marion."

"Nor you. Goodbye John." Her tone was firm now, and he knew that it was time to leave.

"Goodbye." He turned and disappeared into the rain. Marion watched after him for a moment, even though he was no longer visible, then hurried to catch up with May.

"You're alone," the girl observed without emotion. Marion nodded.

"John's never liked the rain. He's gone in search of shelter for a bit. He wanted me to go with him, but I told him that keeping pace with Robin and your father is more important."

"It is. He'll catch up with us later then?"

"Yes. When the rain's lessened a little I should think. You don't mind?"

"No." May smiled a gentle smile, one that was accompanied by the kind of merrily sparkling eyes that could have killed off all of Marion's earlier suspicions in one go, had she not been so very uneasy about everything. "I've seen you shoot, remember? And I feel safe enough with Nasir around. We'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

"You're probably right." Marion thought about John, hurrying back through the appalling weather to tell the others - what exactly? She wondered what they would do when the message reached them. Whether they would come rushing to the attack, or follow more slowly? If only she could be sure of Robin's position in all of this. Was he aware of the possible dangers yet?

"Of course I'm right." May was smiling again, shyly now, as she had when Marion had first taken her to the camp. It made her look terribly young, and very pretty, and not in the slightest bit dangerous. If it hadn't been for the storm Marion might never have doubted her sincerity. "We should hurry though. There may be no dangers, but it'll help us to keep warm if we move quickly. Perhaps then we'll catch up with Nasir."

"Not if Nasir doesn't want to be caught up with." Marion wondered where he was. Far up in front, or close by, watching? There was no way of knowing if he was suspicious, or was merely doing what he considered to be his job. Perhaps he had just gone to find somewhere warm and dry. If so then she wished she was with him; that they all were. She would rather be anywhere than lost on this road, in the middle of the storm, and she wished that she had never stopped to help the two unfortunate travellers. Next time she was standing guard in the forest, she would be very happy if all that she had to do was stay bored.

**********

Nasir was oblivious to the rain. His environment, as usual, was irrelevant; something to be acknowledged, then put aside and ignored. Right now he had eyes only for the road.

The fierce weather had obliterated all usual tracks almost immediately, but he was aware of other signs. Little things that indicated the passage of other people fairly recently - areas where the mud had been slipped upon, and had remained pushed out of shape; an overhanging branch partly snapped where somebody had grabbed hold to stop themselves from falling. It wasn't much, but he took it to mean that he had almost caught up with Robin and Leofric. He had made good time, and he knew that he should be able to see more certain evidence of their passing by now. He should more than likely be able to see them. So where were they? His plan before had been unclear, for he did not know what he had been intending to do when he caught up with Robin, but now he was at a much greater loss. Nasir could read tracks on the ground as well as he could read any written word, and what he saw on the ground in front of him now was as clear as day - or as clear as the day would have been, if it had not been for the persistent storm. Robin had disappeared. Just a few paces ahead, along the road where he had apparently been walking without concern, his tracks ended in an empty blur. It was as though he had ceased to exist. Nasir's eyes scanned everything, hoping that his growing unease was foundless, but he had been trusting his instincts for long enough to know that something was very wrong. He didn't know what strange intuition had made him suddenly suspicious - had caused him to come out here to look for the truth, but he was glad that he had listened to it. Now he had to decide what to do next.

He was still now, standing in the middle of the road, the vicious rain sending up a fine spray of mud that drew patterns on the black leather of his trousers. With the noise of the wind and the water he could hear nothing, no matter how keen his hearing - nothing save the weather itself. A crash of thunder seemed to make the world shake, and he thought, inescapably of Much. The boy would be terrified, and he wouldn't be alone. Most of the villagers for miles around would be quaking, afraid that they had upset some ghost or demon, cowering in their houses with their animals, and muttering prayers in the unnatural dark. Being both a Saracen and high born, Nasir was better educated than most Westerners, but even he could begin to sympathise with such feelings of fear and superstition in this storm. And why, lost in the midst of the howling gale, did he seem to hear the cackling laughter of women? He turned slowly in a circle, listening to the mad cacophony of sound, then froze abruptly. The brief moments between rolls of thunder brought relative peace, and during those short seconds, other noises became just a little bit clearer. The teasing hints of laughter; the suggestions of somebody's distant mockery; became more tangible, and infinitely more real. He thought that he heard three voices, joined as one.

"We're getting closer!" It was a triumphant shriek, and the wind blew it so close that it could almost have come from directly behind him. He whirled, but the thunder crashed back again, and once more he was in the midst of too much, too impenetrable sound. he listened again, waiting for the storm to pause for breath, and this time heard a second voice, coming from somewhere else. It spoke words in a language he had never heard before, but he recognised the tone of it. The excitement and the manic satisfaction. It reminded him of the Sheriff of Nottingham, during one of his mad rants, but female and older. Shriller, more forceful, more intense. Nasir listened intently for more of the same, but the thunder was all about him once again, and this time it was many minutes before it faded.

And then the voice really was right behind him. A whisper, rising above the pounding rain; vicious, hissing words in that same, unfamiliar tongue. He spun about, staring into the wind, unable to see anybody but still hearing the voice. He knew then that all of this had been a trap, but he still had no idea who the enemy was. Before him the wind was whipping itself up into a swirling mass of mud and water, and in the midst of it, their mouths simultaneously chanting those strange and foreign words, he thought that he saw three women. They were shadows really; suggestions of people that his eyes were not sure they were seeing. An old woman, her face heavily lined; a middle-aged one, with angry eyes beneath greying black hair; a young one, red-haired and hopelessly beautiful, with an expression that spoke of the worst kind of malice. As the thunder crashed down again, and once more the noise obliterated everything, the spinning morass of whirling wind and impossibly powerful rain churned the three insubstantial faces into one. It was old and misshapen and quite repulsively ugly, and yet its eyes were the bright, malicious green of the beautiful redheaded woman who had been there before. Nasir dashed the blinding water from his eyes and saw that terrifying face staring back at him, reflected in a hundred thousand slanting raindrops. He reached for his swords - but the faces were gone. He was left alone in the road, with no further sound of laughter, no further whispering voices. Even the faces had gone. He stood there for a while, once more blinded by water, surrounded yet again by the crushing weight of thunderous sound. He wasn't sure what he had seen, and was even less sure of what he had heard, but he knew enough now to know that things were very wrong. His eyes travelled uncertainly down the road, back towards the last place where he had seen Marion, John and May. For a moment he was uncertain whether to return, or whether to stay and look for further clues of Robin's fate, but the answer did not take long in coming. Robin had Herne and Albion to protect him, as well as the powers of light and darkness that supposedly were his. Marion had nothing so significant. Turning back the way he had come, Nasir began running, instinct alone allowing him to keep his feet on the treacherous mud. Behind him, standing at the edge of the road, a bent old woman watched him go. Her back was so crooked that she could never have stood upright had it not been for the crutch upon which she leaned. Covered in mud it was all but unrecognisable, but had he looked back Nasir would have known it at once - for no mud, nor even magic, could hide the grace of Albion from anyone who had cause to know it well.

**********

"I don't like this." Arms folded, Will stood at the entrance to the cave, kicking a succession of small stones out into the rain. Much stood behind him, shivering slightly.

"Neither do I." He was referring of course to the thunderstorm. Will glared back at him.

"I don't mean the storm, stupid. I mean this. All of this. Robin going off like that, and the others going after him. Us being back here. Talk about a clever way of splitting us all up."

"You've got to learn to trust people, Will." Tuck was trying to keep the fire going, although they had long ago reached the end of their limited fuel supply. They had finished the bread as well, and he was beginning to feel extremely hungry. "It's was Robin's idea to split up, not Leofric's. Not everybody is an enemy."

"Yes they are, especially with the reward on our heads." Will kicked another stone, much harder this time. "London. Who in their right mind would agree to go to London?"

"Robin's not a fool." Suddenly angry, Much glared at Scarlet with all of the force he could muster. His serious face might have made Will smile, had he not been feeling so troubled himself. He sighed.

"I know. I'm not saying he's an idiot, Much. I just think that there's more to this than we know. It's the perfect trap, isn't it. Somebody turns up claiming to be on a mission for Herne, and saying that he's from Loxley. What better way to get Robin's attention? He'd be sure to listen. Robin doesn't always think straight where Loxley's concerned. You know that better than anyone."

"I suppose so." Much looked back towards Tuck, eyes very wide. "Do you think they're all in danger?"

"I think that it's foolish to jump to conclusions, is what I think." Giving the fire one last poke before giving up on it, the monk joined them by the cave mouth. "But it does seem rather foolhardy to go anywhere in all this rain. I can't help but think that if everything had been right, Robin would have returned when the storm started up again."

"Exactly. They've been lured away. It's a trap, and I can smell it." Will made to kick another stone, and realised that there were none left. "There's something weird going on. Something that stopped Herne from warning Robin."

"Don't let your imagination run away with you Will." Tuck was talking now mostly for Much's benefit, trying to put the boy's obvious fears at rest. "For all we know that man really is some relative of Robin's from Loxley, and he really is going to London because Herne told him to. Just because things seem strange, doesn't mean that they are. It's not good for the soul to always expect the worst."

"Huh. My soul is as suspicious as I am. It likes expecting the worst." Scarlet sat down on the rocky ground, glaring at the almost impenetrable rain. Something moving out in the trees caught his attention, but he dismissed it as a deer at first. "And anyway, what if Leofric is telling the truth? Doesn't make going to London less stupid, does it. Honestly, sometimes I swear I'd be better off alone than staying around with--" He broke off.

"Keep talking, Will." Tuck's sharp eyes had also spotted the movement out in the trees, and just as Will's own suspicions brought his flood of cranky words to a halt, so too did the monk's instincts tell him that this was no time for silence. "Talk to Much."

"Yeah, well." Suddenly at a loss, Scarlet stared moodily back at what was left of the fire. "You know what I mean, Much. Crazy, staying around here, scratching for a living, when there's far better pickings to be made over Lincoln way, or maybe towards York."

"You don't mean that, Will?" Half aghast, and half convinced that it was just words to help them feign indifference to the intruder, Much was gaping. Will rolled his eyes.

"Just shut up and agree with me, you fool," he snapped back, not bothering to notice the inherent contradiction in that order. Much opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again.

"How-?" he began, but Will was spared the question by Tuck's shout. Remarkably quiet when the moment called for it, the friar had taken advantage of the noisy weather, and had slipped around behind their lurking visitor. A shout lifted itself up for a moment above the wind, then was abruptly cut off by more thunder. Will broke into a run.

"Tuck?" It took him a moment to find his friend in all of the rain, but he reached him in the end, slipping and sliding in a sea of mud. "Are you alright?"

"Perfectly." Tuck thrust something at him. "We've got a guest."

"So long as he's not wearing armour and the Sheriff's insignia I don't mind." Will caught the stumbling figure, sent off balance in all the water by Tuck's unceremonious shove. "Edward?"

"Edward?" echoed Tuck, apparently not having noticed this before. Will rolled his eyes.

"We have few enough allies in this world, Tuck, without you beating up the ones we do have." He pointed Wickham's decidedly soggy headman in the direction of the cave. "Are you hurt?"

"No." Edward had to shout above a sudden increase in thunder. "Just cold. I'm sorry to have startled you all, but I couldn't tell who it was at such a distance. I saw the firelight, but I didn't want to announce myself to just anybody."

"A sensible enough attitude." Embarrassed now, Tuck began hurrying him over the cave. It wasn't the best course of action given the supremely slippery terrain, but they managed it in the end without incident, and Tuck huddled Edward as close to what remained of the fire as he could. "You're wet," he observed, somewhat redundantly. Edward laughed.

"Me and all of Sherwood, aye. Somebody is angry with us today, and no mistake."

"Looks that way, doesn't it." Pushing Much aside, and glaring at him for his failure to leap into the flood as well, Will dripped abundantly onto the fire. The already low flames showed their displeasure with some copious hissing. Tuck tried to shoo him away.

"What brings you to these parts, Edward?" he asked, looking around to see if they had anything to offer their guest. Edward pushed wet hair away from his face, and looked around at the dingy cave. If the lack of other outlaws surprised him, he didn't show it.

"I was hunting," he said matter-of-factly. That such an admission might well have won him a flogging at the very least from anybody in a position of authority was irrelevant. Nobody who followed Robin Hood cared for such breaches of a law that they all knew was unjust. "The storm was something of a surprise. I knew we were in for some rain, but this?!"

"Aye, it was a little more than we were expecting, certainly." Tuck rubbed his hands together, already regretting having tried to play the hero by sneaking out into the rain. "Not the best of times for journeys of any sort."

"That's why I was so surprised to see Robin out. What's the hurry? I wouldn't have thought that he'd be fool enough to set out in this weather."

"It seemed like the right thing to do at the time." Much was looking subdued. If Edward didn't think that travelling right now was a good idea, then maybe Will had been right. Maybe something really was wrong. It wasn't an option that he was especially happy with. "Will, did Leofric enchant us?"

"I think he might have tried to enchant some of us, yeah." Will sighed. "You remember Loxley, right Edward? Did you know any of the people who lived there?"

"Loxley? Loxley is a place that I'll never forget, Scarlet." A curious look had come into Edward's eyes, bringing a hard edge to his voice that suggested there was an insult in Will's implication. "Do you think that I'd ever forget a place like that? The people in it, the lives? All that happened to them?"

"No, of course not." Soothing as ever, Tuck shot Will a sharp glare. "That's not what he meant. We were just wondering, that's all. Did you ever hear of Robin and Ailric having a kinsman called Leofric?"

"Leofric?" Edward smiled, a distant look replacing the affront in his eyes. "Yes, of course. He was Ailric's cousin I think. There are a lot of relations in any village, especially one the size of Loxley, but those two were close. Leofric was a young man, not much above my own age. And no matter how old I might look now, I wasn't all that old back then." A frown made his gentle expression darken. "Is all this to-ing and fro-ing in the rain to do with Loxley? Who was that man with Robin?"

"You didn't recognise him?" Although Will spoke slowly, his mind was racing. Edward shook his head.

"If you're trying to tell me that he was Leofric of Loxley... well you're wrong, Will. He wasn't."

"You're sure of that?" Tuck's question was clipped and precise; the succinct words of a man who needed the truth. Edward nodded.

"Very sure."

"It's been a long time," piped up Much. "People change."

"True." Edward spared him a smile, acknowledging a fair point well made. "But I knew Leofric well. My older brother fought with him in Normandy for a time, and I remember him. I'm not mistaken. Leofric died in Loxley, with everybody else."

"The night of the Sheriff's attack?" Will had become very serious, and Edward no less so as he nodded his head.

"I was no more than fourteen the night of the massacre, but I was there. Many of us from Wickham went, as soon as we were sure that it was safe. We went looking for survivors, but we didn't find any. I helped my brother to drag Leofric's body from the ruins, and we buried him that night. He's dead, and that man isn't him."

"Oh." As a rejoinder it was unimpressive, but Will didn't know what else to say. Loudly doubting Robin's judgement, and providing a voice of dissent, was one thing; having his suspicions proved right was another. "Then it looks like Robin really is in trouble."

"I doubt it. Robin isn't the type to make mistakes." Edward's voice didn't quite disguise his own concerns. "Look, what is all of this? Where are the others?"

"Gone after Robin." Will stared at the ground. "We were... well, enchanted maybe. Whoever that man is, he had us all believing in him, and thinking that it was a good idea to follow him wherever he said to go."

"He didn't enchant all of us." Tuck's words were gentle, and were a subtle compliment to Will that Scarlet chose to take with quiet grace.

"We don't know we were enchanted." Much was rubbing his head. "Does this mean that Leofric lied to us?"

"Yes." Tuck shared a look with Will and Edward. "It does."

"Oh." The boy, as usual, didn't quite seem to have a proper grip of the situation, although his companions were in no doubt that he would understand it well enough if need be. "Then what do we do?" Will scowled.

"Forget Robin and Marion, and go to live on the other side of the country," he muttered. Tuck hit him.

"This is no time for your stupid jokes. Robin is certainly in trouble, and I doubt that that man's daughter is any more trustworthy than he is. Who knows who they both are? They've lured four of our friends off to goodness knows where, and it's quite likely that not one of them suspects a thing."

"Well then where's Herne? Supposed to know when Robin's in danger, isn't he." Much folded his arms, and glared out of the cave's entrance. "He always contacts us when things aren't like they're supposed to be."

"He always has in the past." Tuck shook his head. "But what if--"

"What if what?" Edward was beginning to look extremely concerned. Will hung his head, shaking it to-and-fro.

"What if Herne can't get in touch," he supplied, apparently without emotion. "What if something is stopping him from contacting Robin, or us? The same something that let Leofric bewitch us all into believing that he was telling us the truth?"

"Anything that's strong enough to hold off the Lord of the Trees would certainly be able to talk a gang of outlaws into travelling to London." Tuck was fingering the cross that hung on a long length of cord around his neck. "It's not something that I want to consider, but we all know that something's not right."

"This storm, for one thing." Edward gestured at the permanent deluge. "There's not this much water in the skies. And this storm. I've not seen anything like it before."

"It feels like there's magic behind it right enough." Tuck met Will's eyes, holding them in a fierce and steady glare. "Bad magic. But what does whoever is spinning it want with us?"

"Not us." Much was looking very young and very small, but his words were strangely wise. "We were left behind, weren't we. They said we could follow, but what if they knew their magic would wear off us, once they'd been gone for a while? Didn't care, did they, whether we followed them or not."

"Didn't care whether we worked things out or not as well, in that case." Angry, Will kicked out at the fire, sending showers of tiny red sparks into the air. "They're pretty sure of themselves."

"And they're not planning to wait to reach London before springing their trap, either, I'd say. Not if they don't care that we might work things out and go after them." Tuck looked towards Edward. "How fast do you think a man can walk out there?"

"Not fast, but probably fast enough if he wants to." Edward shrugged. "It's difficult to say, especially if we're to believe that there's magic involved. Marion's a different matter though. She's tough, but she's not as tough as Robin. When did she start out?"

"Around midday." Will peered up at the bruised and darkened sky. It was difficult to judge what time it was, but certainly the others had been gone some considerable time. "They've got a good lead."

"But not necessarily good enough." Brushing mud and wet leaves from his robes, Tuck rose to his feet. "We have to go after them. Maybe we can't catch them up before the trap is sprung, but we have to at least try to reach them before... well. Before things get unpleasant."

"Even more unpleasant," corrected Scarlet. The former soldier was looking even more angry than usual, and it was clear that he was looking forward to a fight with somebody. "We'd better get going. There's no telling how much time we've got."

"I'll help of course." Edward was already rising to his feet, but Tuck shook his head.

"No Edward. You stay here. You've got a family to look after, and they'll be a lot worse off without you than they will be without us. Thankyou for the help that you've given so far."

"But you don't know what you might be facing." Edward tried to push past Tuck, but the burly friar held him still.

"No." His voice was firm, and it was clear that he would not be argued with. "This is for us to deal with. You stay here. There's a pair of horses in one of the other caves. Look after them. If we're right about our suspicions, you're welcome to the pair." He smiled gently. "And when the rain stops, go back to your family."

"If it stops," muttered Will, rather grimly. Tuck nodded.

"I rather think that if it does, then we'll have done what we set out to do."

"Then I'll pray for a change in the weather even more than I have already." Edward gripped Tuck's arm. "Be careful. All of you. And may Herne protect you."

"He'd better." Will thought about everything that they might be letting themselves in for, and wondered again if it wasn't too late to go solo. "He'd damn well better."