Two days later, the weather changed completely. It became bitterly cold and the first storm blew over the land. Nasir arrived late that afternoon and told them that they were safe. The weather had forced the Sheriff to turn and give up. Relief came over the outlaws and they made themselves comfortable for the winter.
Robin regained consciousness late that night, but didn't react at any question he was asked. He was completely absent. Full of concern, the outlaws watched over their leader and friend during the next few days.
Robin became thinner and thinner. His bones could be clearly seen under his pale, tortured skin. Every time they tried to feed him they had to stop because he wouldn't react. Marion didn't move from his side.
Tired and sad, she nearly fell asleep three days later, when she saw a small movement at her side. Robin opened his eyes and looked at her. His lips formed her name. Marion stroked his cheek gently. His green eyes had lost their vitality. They were dark and dull. Marion's heart grew heavier. Suddenly Robin grabbed her hand. He closed his eyes for a moment and she saw how exhausting this little gesture was for him. "Don't give up, please!" she begged him.
Robin smiled weakly and he shook his head slowly. He knew that he couldn't. He knew that Herne had begged him for the same promise, and he didn't want to disappoint either of them. But he felt nearer to death than to life. The pain was there all the time and he felt the fever burning deep inside him, waiting to come out. His lips were dry and he was thirsty. Struggling, he tried to form some words. "Mar...thirsty..." The words sounded rough and nearly incomprehensible, but Marion understood. She stood up and brought back a cup of water and herbs.
She slid her hand under Robin's neck and lifted his head so that he could drink. Patiently, she waited until he had finished drinking. He often had to pause. Then he fell asleep again.
The next morning, John woke her
up. "Marion!"
"What is it, John?" she grumbled.
"I'm tired. It was a long night." She moved her body into a
sitting position.
"We're leaving for a few days, Marion. We
need food, so we're going to hunt and then journey into Wickham to
fetch some things for winter."
Suddenly she was wide awake.
"Oh, all of you?"
"No, Little Flower, I'm staying here,"
Tuck said.
Marion yawned. "All right. When will you be back?"
"I think Samhain, at the latest, in three or four days," John
said, thinking it over.
"This year will not be a happy feast,"
she murmured.
"I know, but hope never dies," Will said,
looking at Robin.
Marion nodded and stretched. "All right,
we'll watch over him. Good luck!"
John and Will grinned wryly
and left with the others.
But over the next few days nothing really changed. Some of his injuries were healing, but it was only a small progress at best. Robin was too weak to speak, to move, to open his eyes. Tuck and Marion took the best possible care of him.
Then the fever came. In the early morning hours, soon after Marion had made something to eat for herself and Tuck, she heard a groan from Robin's direction. Marion put her work down and hurried to his side, seeing immediately that he was moving restlessly. Marion felt his forehead and noticed the fever.
She shook her head. "My God, Robin, what else must you stand?" She called to Tuck and they both made wet bandages to cool down the fever, which, in his condition, was deadly. Robin was closer to death than he had been before, but neither Marion nor Tuck nor Robin thought about giving up.
Robin's mental
power was strong. He knew that and he used it. Again he was faced
with a decision. And, as he had done before, he continued on the hard
way. If my body is weak, my mind isn't! he said to his
greatest enemy and turned away. Walking along the path he chose, his
heart started to beat more strongly and the fever went down. This all
took about half the day in which Tuck and Marion fought to bring down
his fever.
Marion nearly broke down when it was over. She stroked
Robin's damp hair off his forehead and thanked God and Herne
loudly.
Tuck prayed and crossed himself. "That was a narrow
escape, Little flower. My God, I want to know where he had the
strength to survive. Any other man would have wasted away long before
this."
Marion wiped her tears away: "Sometimes I think that
he is very similar to Herne, but doesn't know that. Remember when I
died at Rhiannon's Wheel? How he had brought me back? He said to me
that it was Herne, but it wasn´t him. Robin did it. I didn't
felt Herne's presence. I felt his. He has the power, but he can't
use it without guidance. I'm sure that Herne is guiding him now,
and that same power has guaranteed his survival."
"That's
an interesting thought, Little Flower. Maybe it is that power. Maybe
it is God. We don't know. We only can hope that he'll recover
soon." Tuck nodded confidently, though he knew that Marion's
words explained many of the strange occurrences that had happened
around them.