The Sheriff, in his angry rage, threw a chair across the room and it crashed into a table, splintering into little bits as the broken pieces shattered across the floor. The messenger cowered in a corner, watching between his fingers as the Sheriff wrecked havoc to his bedchamber. He watched as the sharp-featured man as he tore down the gaudy draperies from his four-poster bed, stomping on them as he did so. He flung open the large windows and screamed out into the late-summer night, "ROBERT, I HAVE DISOWNED THEE ONCE IN A LIFETIME, AND I WILL NOT HESITATE TO DISOWN THEE IN THE NEXT!"
Then, he sat at his desk, or what was left of it, and promptly took out a piece of paper, dipped his quill in an ink well, blotted the pen, and started to write.
"Notice: All persons in connection with the outlaw ROBERT LOXLEY, shall be rightfully punished, hanged, or branded. If he is found, bring him ALIVE to the Royal Castle, where his sentence will be executed forthwith. There is a disclosed reward for the return of this man when he is found," the Sheriff muttered as he wrote it. He signed it with a flourish, rolling it up and stamping it with his family crest. He shoved it into the still cowering boy's hands and ordered, "Post this all over the city, and make it quick." The lad bowed and scuttled out of the room saying, "Aye, Sheriff Loxley."
Marian awoke to the sounds of screaming women. She wiped her eyes, still groggy from her sleeping state, scrambled to the door, and peered through a crack. The nuns of the convent were being tied by ropes and dragged harshly across the street to awaiting castle guards. One nun fell, and Marian covered her mouth to stifle a cry as one of the men kicked her and pulled her roughly up to her feet, pushing her to join the other nine nuns, who were in the same state, begging for their lives.
"We have reason to believe that the Sisters of Saint Bridgetta have been aiding the outlaw Robert of Loxley," one of the guards said to a pleading Friar Tuck.
"Robert Loxley?" Marian whispered and pressed her ear closer to the wall, trying hard to listen to the guard.
"The Sheriff has ordered for all accomplices of the bandit be persecuted for their crime of high treason against the crown."
"No! The Sheriff!" Marian cried softly, her brow furrowing with anger. Was this Sheriff the same one who had captured her mother? She strained again to hear the rest of his speech.
"They are to be hanged at dawn," the guard said, and hopped on his horse leading the men holding the nuns to the city of Nottingham.
"Nothing can be done to save them?" Tuck asked, stopping the lawman.
"I wouldn't even try."
After the last of the Sheriff's men had left, Marian opened the door with a great strength and ran to the sobbing man. His red-rimmed eyes looked up at her, "They have been taken...even Mother Marie."
"Come, we shall go to see Robert of Loxley of whom they speak, and hopefully we will prevent this ugly thing from happening." She helped the man onto her horse and rode down the road in the direction that she hoped was the right one.
"I...I'm afraid I don't know where I am," Marian said, dismounting the horse and leading Friar Tuck through the dense forest.
"We're losing time," Tuck worried, wringing his hands.
"Quiet, so I can think straight," Marian ordered and she stood silently, listening for sounds of life. Sweat dripped off her nose as she waited for a smell, or a murmur of something recognizable in the forest. Suddenly, a burst of laughter billowed from the right of them.
"This way," Marian called with replenished hope, and led the friar on the horse through the trees to the origins of the sound. They came upon a clearing of sorts, and Marian drew her breath as she took in the sights.
Tattered huts were erected throughout the makeshift camp, and tiny fires lit the place. Bow targets were set up in a far corner, and as her eyes swept the clearing, they came upon a gathering of about fifteen men. They were all sitting around a campfire, obviously listening to someone's story. Breathing a silent prayer, Marian stepped hesitantly into the clearing and called, "Robert of Loxley!"
Nothing prepared her for the sudden clamor to their weapons, and and unexpectedly, all arrows were pointing at her.
"What dost thou want with him?" A shadowed figure asked.
"I need his help."
The shadowed figure pushed his way through the crowd. He stepped into the light, and Marian could see his face clearly.
Robert had seemed to change since Marian last saw him. He stood with his legs apart, a defensive stance, a dagger strapped to his belt. His shirt was dirty at the collar, and is broad shoulders stretched at the green jerkin he wore. A slight growth of stubble grew on his chin, his scarred face stood out shockingly in the torchlight, yet his piercing blue eyes remained the same. Her mother's emerald ring still glittered on his hand, making Marian slightly flush with anger.
"Robert, I need thy help,"
"Oh, I see," he said, his brow furrowing, "Tha first insults me and then comes crawling back after."
"Look," she said stubbornly, coming almost nose to nose with him, "As I remember it, The day was hot, and tempers rise, tha would've done the same thing under the circumstances." Her intenseness excited the thieves in the clearing.
"Is that an apology?" he asked, one eyebrow raised, his cool azure eyes shooting arrows into her.
"I need thy help," she repeated, averting her eyes and changing the subject, backing away from him a pace.
"What can a rag-tag bunch of ungovernable thieves do for mylady?" Scarlet stepped forward, smiling gently at Marian
"How did tha find this place?" Robert asked, glaring at Scarlet, but completely perplexed on how she came to find him.
"LISTEN!" she shouted, slightly peeved at the gang's nonchalant manner. and everyone crowded in close, "The Sheriff has taken the Sisters of Saint Bridgetta as prisoners..."
"Women of the church?" Scarlet asked from the crowd. Much, standing next to him, said, "The Sheriff does whatever he pleases."
"...And he plans to hang them at dawn," Marian said, and looked beseechingly to the men around her, "These women have helped me in every way they could, and they are not guilty of their crimes. Please, help me..."
"Ten hanged nuns...'twould be wrong if we did not help them..." someone said from the middle of the crowd.
"Aye, I would never be able to forgive myself..."
"I am ready to do battle for this fine woman..."
"Count me in..."
"Me too..."
Robert looked around at the determined faces of the thieves, and at the fat monk on the horse, then to the proud face of Marian who looked expectantly at him. He nodded his head in agreement, "I owe the church much, and give no allegiance to the Sheriff." The way he said "Sheriff" with such malice made a shiver run up Marian's spine.
Marian, Robert, and Scarlet leaned against the wall nearest to the city square, where the nuns were stocked and shackled, waiting for the signal from Alan. The guards were doing their rounds throughout the town, carrying dangerous looking staffs and metal plated armor. Even the balmy late-summer night could not keep Marian's teeth from chattering.
"Nervous?" Scarlet asked her, noticing the soft clicking. Marian looked over her shoulder at Robert, who was anxiously lurking like a hungry wolf hunts it's dinner, before she said, "A little." A small smile creeped across his face, before he turned serious again, "Dost thou really think we are that horrible?"
"What?" Marian asked distantly, blinking away from Robert, who was glancing fitfully in their direction.
"What tha said to us...to Robert that day…"
She sighed and began to roll up her sleeves carefully, and her tone then softened, "I am sure tha has thy reasons for living a life that tha does."
He sent her a devilish smile, which made Marian feel uneasy.
A shout from Alan made Marian startle, and Robert looked at the two of them suspiciously and said, "Let's go."
Four men were already hacking away at the stocks with axes when they got to the stocks. The sisters were cheering victoriously but Marian hushed them with stern warnings. Reeling in the chaos, she saw Tuck holding Sister Mother's hand as she was being hastily unshackled. She sighed at the sight of his devotion to Mother, and was wondering what to do with her shaky hands, when she turned and spied some one creeping behind Robert.
"ROBERT! LOOK OUT!" She screamed, and he turned quickly and caught a castle guard by the arms and threw them down with a sharp motion. The guard quickly reached out for his leg as he plummeted, but Marian was there and smashed a loosened board from the stocks over his head. She looked triumphantly down onto the sooty face of the guard and kicked him with contempt in the stomach.
Robert bowed slightly to her, in thankfulness, and without Marian's warning this time, whirled around to attack another guard that had come upon them.
"I thought Alan gave the all-clear!" Marian shouted to John, who was helping one of the last nuns from her bonds. She aided him in prying loose the shackles. Once all the sisters were free, Marian knew I was her job to secure their safety.
"I thought 'e di' too," he said, and Marian led the nuns to the ox-driven cart hidden in the woods beyond the square that John had driven just this afternoon.
"Marian," one of the Sisters huffed, short of breath, trying to keep up with the young woman's pace, "I-I-I-knew thee would save us."
"Not without help though," Marian said, helping her into the small cart, and going back to get the others. When she returned, the muddy square had turned into a horrific battle between Sherwood's outlaws and Nottingham's lawmen. She dodged a swinging sword as she nimbly climbed the wooden platform where just minutes before the nuns had been trapped in the hated stocks.
"RETREAT!" she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. The men heard her and gave their opponents one more taste of their thieving strategy of fighting. Marian whooped as she jumped down from the dias, right into the chest of a strange, some how familiar looking, dark-bearded man.
"Greetings," he said, and Marian could smell the stinking stench of ale that hung on his breath, "Thou art a brave lady to surge against the Sheriff."
"Anyone who takes a mother from their child should be confronted."
"Is that so?" the Sheriff asked, a bit confused.
"And anyone who would be so bold as to capture women of the church and punish them for crimes they did not do, should absolutely...ROT...IN...HELL!" she shouted, spitting into his face. His cheeks and forehead grew a deep purple color as he wiped away the spittle with the back of his black gloved hand. She started to run away, but was caught by two of his patrolmen, and was dragged against her will after the disengaging Sheriff and his troops.
"Have with her what thou will…then bring her to me," he hissed through sharp teeth.
"ROBERT!" she screamed, wildly trying to fight away the men who held her in their clutches.
He turned when he heard his name being called. Scanning the square, across the retreating thieves, the stocks, the well, and then saw her. Marian. She was struggling to free herself from the vice-like grips of two steadfast soldiers, he saw her kick one, and then pull herself away from another, only to be caught again by someone entirely different. He saw them pulling at her legs and ripping at her skirts, and as hard as she kicked, he knew she would soon succumb to any horror the guards put her through.
Robert could not contain the fathomless rage he felt for his father. It had been so many years ago that they had met face to face, and Charles Loxley had turned his back on Robert. Refusing to let him come back, Robert fled, and adopted the lifestyle that he lived now. He now watched the man he hated most watch in amusement as his men grabbed at the crying, kicking girl, and begin to take her with him, the girl who hated him to no end.
"MARIAN!" he shouted, and mustered up the energy to stampede towards them, and tackle the Sheriff and his men, sending her flying into the brown mud. The guards started foreward, but halted at the command of the Sherriff.
Both men wrestled to gain control of one another, and Marian stood there, panting dumbly, unsure of what to do.
"Marian...go...now!" Robert said, pinning the Sheriff.
"Not without thee!"
"Stubborn...isn't she?" his father said mockingly through clenched teeth. Robert glared at him.
"Go!" Robert barked, and with one last reluctant look at the tangled duo, she ran out of the square, hellbent for leather. After he watched her go, Robert turned back to to his father, his face red with anger, "Murdering nuns now...are we?" The Sheriff just laughed heartily, "Aye, thee must remember that I am an evil man."
"How could I forget," Robert said, rolling off of him, and blocking a punch.
"I still love thee, tha knows..." the Sheriff now said, faking kindheartedness, and circled him.
"Lies! All of them!" Robert said, wishing he could cover his ears.
"...And all I want is some love in return..."
"Thou art looking in the wrong places. Using the wrong methods."
"...All I want is my son back..." the Sheriff said, letting his blows cease to none.
"And all I wanted was a father," Robert hissed, and saw Marian expertly riding Horse towards them, "Be aware that there is no bond between us, only blood...blood that I've wished many a time that I did not have."
Marian halted Horse and jumped down from the saddle, picking up a discarded sword, holding it defensively in hand. Her gaze darted from Robert to the Sheriff, both muddy and breathing heavily from the fight. Feeling his words were said, Robert noiselessly started towards Marian and Horse, claiming his place in the saddle. He looked down at Marian, who had dropped the sword, looking up expectantly at him. He reached down his hand to her, and she locked eyes with Robert. She pulled her up behind him in the saddle, and she wrapped her arms protectively around his waist, glaring hatefully at the Sheriff. The horse reared and Robert raced out into the dawning light, Marian wondering how personal their dispute was.
"Art thou okay?" a guard asked behind the Sheriff. The sharp man smiled, then laughed heartily.
"I feel better than I have in years..." and in his mind he tallied a score on his board for finding Robert's weak spot...the girl...the girl who looked quite familiar, though he could not put a finger on when he last saw her.
Marian relaxed her hold on Robert's body as they entered the safety of the forest. Her eyes were drooping in exhaustion, though she was unsure that she would sleep, if at all, when they got back to Robert's camp. Her anger was still bubbling as she remembered the searing touch of the Sheriff's gloves on her skin, and the sharp pierce of his blue eyes. Robert cleared his throat, and this startled Marian, he had been mostly quiet on the way back.
"He is...was...my father," he said, and Marian could feel his muscles tense in his back through his jerkin.
"Thy father took my mother away from me..." she said, a cold tang to her voice.
"He has done many things, though I do not hold myself responsible for his actions."
"I hate him..." Marian said, and the tiny hairs on the back of Robert's neck stood up, just to hear someone else say those words. He had repeated the mantra over and over, so many years in his head, never telling anyone that he was in close relation to the horrid Sheriff of Nottingham. He wanted her to say it again.
Marian's cool hands felt strangely comforting placed around his hips, and he could not remember a time when any other woman, besides that red-headed strumpet that he had kissed once on a dare in Nottingham, had ever been this voluntarily close to him.
As they approached the camp, the whole company was standing outside, motionless and still in the early morning twilight. Marian and Robert rode into the clearing and dismounted slowly, staring back at the mixture of people. And it was a sight to see...people who would never talk to each other were standing side by side, in a promising group. Nuns amongst rogues, sisters with brothers, women beside men, but all with good in their hearts. They watched as Mother stepped forward, and said clearly, "We have conquered the Sheriff!"
A raucous cheer rose up from the shabby clearing, and Robert was sure that Prince John had heard the noise from his secluded solar in his castle, and that he had the metallic taste of royal defeat on his tongue.
Marian silently watched Robert lead Horse to a grassy field beyond the camp, and he looked up from what he was doing and looked at her, as if he was trying to see something in her, trying to fathom something she could not yet understand.
She stared back at him, unable to tear away her eyes from his figure silhouetted in the morning light. People milled around her, busy once again, and she lost sight of him, but only for a moment. His brown hair fell lightly into his blue eyes, and she thought she could see a timid smile cross his lips, but then as fleetingly as it had come, the smile vanished, leaving Marian wondering what it all meant.