Chapter ten:

Marian's POV:

A few days passed, after Robin and Much left and the numbness I felt was beginning to fade.

That first night, I couldn't sleep, I could only cry. Every time I started to drift off, I saw Robin and Much fighting. They were fighting for their lives, but they were losing, badly.

A group of Turkish soldiers surrounded them, and they were closing in, swords drawn.

It was then that I woke up, crying.

Deciding it was easier to stay awake, rather than face my nightmares, I crept out of bed. As quietly as possible, I dragged my duvet and some pillows over to my windowsill, and sat there.

The night sky was pitch black, making it easier to spot the stars. Opening my window slightly, so the cool, summer air could drift in, I looked into Sherwood. It would be harder to be in the forest, knowing that Much and Robin wouldn't be joining me for a long time.

The moon shined brightly in the corner of my vision, they would probably be on the boat, to the Holy Land now. Seeing as it is nearly the next day, they had been gone for roughly a day. It was probably still daylight where they were, we weren't even looking at the same sky! His was light, while mine was cast into darkness.

Before now, I had always loved the night sky, because it was calm. All of the stars reminded me of how small I was compared to the rest of the universe, that thought comforted me.

Wrapping my duvet around me, I tried imagine it was Robin hugging me. That he hadn't left, and he was still here, holding me.

Robin's POV:

Much had fallen over an English solider, who was on the floor. The soldier's eyes were cloudy, and his stomach laid perfectly still.

Much looked tired, like he'd been walking for weeks. His face was sandy and dry, he needed water but I couldn't see a water canteen anywhere on him.

His eyes widened when he realised, that he was in a graveyard, with dead soldiers everywhere. This one wasn't the first, we'd passed through several dead soldiers, both English and Turk, on the way here. Much's gaze drifted back to me, who'd come back to help him up.

Reaching into my bag, I tried to find my canteen, to give to Much. Although, after shaking it slightly, I put it back, realising it was empty.

Much had stood back up again, and was walking with me. We both quickened our pace, to catch up to father, who was ahead.

My body was hunched over, in exhaustion. How long had we been walking?

Father said we would be meeting the rest of the soldiers at the camp, just ahead, but I was beginning to think we would never get there.

After a few more hours of walking, we reached a large tent. It looked deserted from the back, we couldn't hear or see anyone in or around it.

Folding the map he had been given, father entered through the front flaps. He had told Much and I to say back for a minute, while he went to talk to the King.

Father was one of the most trusted Lords, sent to protect and defend the King. That meant that he had to report to him directly, and as soon as we arrived.

Much and I did as we were told and stayed back, while he went in. But after roughly ten minutes we became restless.

"Father?" I called in, but no reply came.

Much and shared a look, and both unsheathed our swords, and went in.

At first glance, it looked there were soldiers lying on the floor, sleeping. But when my eyes adjusted, my breath got stuck in my throat.

The soldiers weren't laying on the floor sleeping, they were laying extremely still, with red patches leaking through their chainmail, and onto the back of their uniforms.

Oh Lord.

Around two dozen, littered the floor. They were all dead.

Every. Single. One.

Much looked as white as a sheet. He gagged, and ran out of the door, I heard him throw up outside.

Where was my father?

Stepping over bodies, I had my sword out ahead, so if anyone came towards me, I would be ready.

Quietly, I crept into a different section of the tent, a large desk sat in the middle of the make-shift room. This must have been the King's quarters.

It was then that I saw some movement in the corner of my eye. Turing suddenly, I recognised it was my father, he had his sword raised, but lowered it when he saw it was me.

Father gestured for me to be quiet, when I opened my mouth, to speak.

"Someone is under there." He mouthed, pointing to the desk.

Nodding, I mouthed back, "Okay, on three." I held up three fingers.

Holding down my fingers, on at a time, we pounced.

Father went round to the front, while I stayed back, ready to catch the person if they tried to run.

It happened so fast! One second, father was at the front of the desk, ready to grab the person. The next, a massive man came out from under the desk and pinned father to the floor!

Describing the man as "massive" was an understatement. Father's sword had landed on the other side of the room, it had fallen out of his hand on impact, when he'd hit the floor.

The man hadn't seen me yet, so I started to sneak up behind him.

"Who are you?! Your lot's already been round here and taken everything!" He growled at my father.

The man's sword was pressed against father's neck, so he couldn't speak even if he wanted to. Scanning the man, I took in his clothes.

He was wearing a chainmail suit, a white tunic/ robe with a belt tide around his waist to hold his sword. But the back of his tunic had a big, red cross on it.

He was English!

I pressed my sword into the back of his neck.

"If you took a moment longer to examine his uniform, you'd soon discover that we are, in fact on your side." Announcing, I saw father had realised.

"Now, if you would kindly release my Father," Much entered then, still wide-eyed, "I'm sure we can figure this mess out." Giving Much a look, he stifled a laugh.

The man dropped his sword, and stood up, chuckling.

Sheathing my sword, I walked over to father and helped him up.

"Now, mind telling us who you are?" Much asked, still looking a bit ill.

"Name's John Nailer. Friends call me Little John." John, admitted, sheepishly at his ironic nickname.

"What happened here?" Father questioned, rubbing his neck.

Marian's POV:

The next morning, I anxiously awaited a letter. Even though I knew I wouldn't get one this early, I still paced anxiously in my room.

When will he write to me, will he ever have the chance?

A week passed by, but it felt like an eternity. I'd been trying to distract myself, by helping out with William, and doing extra chores.

While I was tidying my bedroom, I couldn't shake the image of Robin and Much being killed, from my dream. Their blood glistening on the swords of our enemy, their bodies lying lifeless on the sand.

A loud bang interrupted my distressing thoughts. I didn't even realise I had been crying until my hand were wet from the dripping tears.

Coming to my senses, I stepped out of my room and walked into my parents' bedroom, where there was a window overlooking my front garden.

A carriage had pulled up in front of my house, and the door had been swung open, the inside left empty.

My parents hadn't told me that we were expecting any visitors, but maybe they'd just forgotten. But, with a second glance, I recognised the carriage, and the man stepping out of it.

Opening my mouth, about to shout down to my parents that someone was here, my voice was cut off by the front door being blown open.

"Fredrick!" A low voice bellowed, from below me.

Peering around from the top of the stairs, I was met with a pair of infamous, black boots.

Gisborne. But no Guy with him this time.

"We were not expecting your company, Sir Gregory. I would appreciate you not slamming my door open next time." Father muttered, slightly bitter.

"Can we help you?" Mother asked, having just come in from outside. She looked confused, and slightly worried.

"I think you know very well what I'm here for." Gregory said to my mother.

Looking towards father, he announced, "It's high time we let out you little secret, Fredrick."

What was he talking about?