HANGING DAY
I stood casually in the crowd, waiting with the peasants under my cloak. The hanging was taking place right outside the town gates, where the grass had been long dead, and there was already an ancient gallows erected. Usually these events were held in the inner square, but that popular gibbet was already full of swaying poacher corpses. Besides, Robin Hood's ravaged body would offer a nice warning to any visiting ruffians. I was sure that the sheriff was not too excited about the arrangement, considering he would be unable to spit upon Robin's body every day. Moreover, any criminal rescuers would have a trouble-free escape route.
None of the onlookers carried weapons; those had been removed at the gate. The sky was darkening, and I knew it would rain heavily soon. There had been promise of such a storm for days now. A large number of those around me already had their hoods up. I eyed the foreboding gibbet with loathing. I would sooner place my own neck in that noose than stand with these cheering buffoons as Robin swung. How could they forget him so quickly? How many of them had he helped?
There was a movement in the crowd, coming from the direction of Nottingham Castle. I saw four of Nottingham's guards, one for each corner of the podium upon which the noose was. Robin was being dragged by the first two. He could not stand on his own. His face was nearly unrecognizable, nose smashed and burn mark tearing through his appearance. What was left of his tunic was torn and ragged, hanging off him in shreds. The only thing keeping it plastered to his torso was the dried blood from his wounds holding it captive. His eyes were squinted against the unexpected light of day. The guards yanked him up onto the platform. He winced at the pain in his arms. They threw him to the floor roughly. He cried out in pain.
I waited for everyone in the crowd to roar with laughter, wincing in expectation. But they said nothing. Nobody laughed. There was not a sound. I grinned to myself under the secret shade of my hood. The one time they had any entertainment and they gave it up! My eyes darted round, catching a glimpse of every single solemn face, some glowering, and feeling like the world was perfect again. My heart, leaden before, lightened. Taking a breath of this faithful air, I sensed fragments of joy returning to my heart. They had come to see a rescue, not a death.
Nay, wait. A small group was snickering. Everyone else turned to glower at them.
I pretended not to recognize Richard, who was leading the group. Everyone else, on the other hand, let him know bloody well they recognized and loathed his presence. Every look seemed to ask, "Why are you here?" He and his friends were the center of attention for a few moments, scores of hostile eyes beating upon them. They shut up.
The sheriff came up onto the platform and kicked Robin in the side. "Stand up, outlaw," he ordered. Robin staggered to his feet, and then fell to his knees. "I cannot," he murmured, voice cracking. The sheriff burst into laughter. "Stand!" he barked again, this time sending his boot into Robin's stomach. Robin groaned so quietly I could barely hear him, and tried again. He managed by some miracle of God to stand. I thanked whoever up there helped him. Then the sheriff knocked him down.
Someone in the crowd protested loudly. Others joined him in roaring at the sheriff. I had to grin. Thank heaven for loyalty. Inwardly, I flinched at my own thought. What loyalty to Robin there was, none came from me. The sheriff glowered, and kicked Robin again. "Get up," he commanded once more. Robin crawled to his knees and shook his head. "I cannot," he repeated miserably, shame written all over his expression.
The largest guard finally took pity on Robin; he grabbed his arm and forced him to stay upright. This greatly annoyed the sheriff, who had heartily enjoyed publicly humiliating his prisoner. By now, Robin's eyes had adjusted to the light. He blinked, staring at the crowd. "You - you're here," he stammered. They all giggled and chuckled. Robin smiled. His lip was bleeding down his chin.
Prince John was sitting in his own pompous corner of the square, smiling slightly and surrounded by guards. No one had even introduced him. I did not for a minute think it was his own humility. He was only placing huge emphasis on this stupid hanging, trying to get a message out. I glowered at him, though one face of a thousand was not going to matter to him. Next to the prince was my cousin Aedre, taking my place. She was nervously scanning the crowd, and doing everything in her power to avoid looking at Robin. The sight of him had brought her near to tears, and the sheriff's public torment had caused her to whimper in sympathy. Prince John was continually asking her what was wrong. Aedre was too compassionate for her own good sometimes, disregarding his comments with a dismissive flick of her hand. Besides which, she was searching for me. We had a plan to execute.
I had not seen my outlaw friends. But I had spotted Adam Bell, the only other outlaw leader in Sherwood. What was he doing here? Did he too loathe Robin? I turned my face upward to watch Robin. His good eye fell on Adam, as mine had, and a wry smile appeared for a trice on his face. Adam nodded slightly, a smirk on his face. Friends? I was under the impression they were enemies.
Prince John stood. "Keep the outlaw quiet until I say otherwise!" he bellowed. Robin whirled around to scowl fiercely at him. "I did not know that our sheriff had stooped so low in his standards as to rank wild pigs among our shire's citizens!" he cried. Robin HATED Prince John. HATED. The crowd was howling with raucous laughter.
One of the shorter guards struck Robin viciously across his broken nose. Robin did not even blink. There was strength in anger, and just the sight of the usurper drove him mad. "That was a rather pathetic blow for someone in mail," he spat, though a nasty bruise was forming, in the shape of a human hand. The peasants cheered, laughing happily, and some clapping. God, I loved them.
"Hang him already!" Prince John screamed, face glowing scarlet. Robin was dragged towards the noose and forced to stand upon the stool. "Any last words outlaw?" the sheriff asked, smirking. Robin smirked in return. "You'll never catch Will Scarlet!" he bellowed, curling his lip in disgust, "And I go to my death knowing I need not threaten maids to conquer my enemies." Again, the crowd chuckled. The noose was around his neck. I was crying quietly into my cloak. Not Robin. The priest stood behind the sheriff, ready to say the basic absolution. "Shall I?"
The sheriff leaned towards Robin's ear. "To Hell with you," he murmured, "and say that I sent you." And he set him swinging. The fall didn't break his neck. He was too bloody light. I screamed. He'd sent him straight to Hell. The sheriff was seriously going to send him to death with that murder on his soul. By heaven. The plan had dissolved from my mind in worry.
Suddenly, Aedre screamed that someone was robbing her. All eyes turned from Robin's kicking, swinging form and watched her. Adam Bell was holding a knife to her throat. God's hands! That was not part of our plan.
Arrows whizzed through the air simultaneously, and Robin dropped to the ground. The largest guard sent a knife through the ropes binding his hands. This was all a bit too fast for the other three guards to register, as their bulging eyes were focused strictly on the safety of a noblewoman. For a moment, gasping Robin could not move. He posed on his knees, staring in bafflement at his livid, FREE wrists. The guard pushed him into the crowd. It was then I realized the largest guard, whose height I had recognized instantly, was Little John.
Will was next to his fallen cousin in an instant. Where had he come from? I was as utterly baffled as Nottingham's guards. "Run!" he cried, grabbing Robin by the arm. And then, realizing his cousin could hardly stand, much less run, his eyes sparked with pity and he helped him to stand up.
The crowd scattered, screaming and flailing, as another volley of arrows were sent into the gaps between people. I, of course, recognized one of Robin's panic instigation tactics, but the sheriff was oblivious. "GUARDS!" the sheriff screeched, "CLOSE THE GATES, CURSE YOU! AND FIND THOSE ARCHERS!" Robin, leaning heavily against Will's shoulder, practically carried, looked back. He was muttering something to Will, but the taller continually dismissed him, actually running. Will often underestimated his own strength. The gates of Nottinghamshire were closing.
A flash of orange whizzed through the crowd, away from the gate, and tore towards our sheriff. "CLOSE THE GATES!" the sheriff was roaring, "CLOSE THE -" The orange flash kicked him in the throat, knocking him to the ground.
Nan kept her foot on the sheriff's neck, planting him to the ground. Her wild hair had fallen from its braid and was whipping round her head in the wind. Eyes alight with hatred, she held a notched arrow two inches from his forehead. "Keep the gates open!" she ordered. Everyone froze, screams halfway through their throats, watching the peasant girl about to murder the sheriff.
"Nan, don't!" someone cried, breaking the perfect silence. The words were slurred. Robin.
"Kill her!" the sheriff ordered. The guards drew their swords. "They take a step and I'll kill you," Nan threatened. "Stay put!" the coward bellowed. I smiled slightly. Nan knew her man, obviously.
"Now," Nan ordered, "Keep those gates open." The sheriff shook his head. Nan moved her arrow forward. "A Welsch longbow can go straight through a man at twenty times this length. I wonder how deep it should go now."
"DO NOT CLOSE THE GATES!"
The guards remained still and in place and the outlaws filed out. Prince John was fuming in his seat, face a shining crimson. Adam Bell, realizing his chance for escape, left Aedre, saluting to her. "My lady," he said, "You have been a great aid in this conquest." Aedre blushed. "Please refrain from doing this again," she asked. Adam Bell bowed low, winking, and stepped out the gates. Last to go was Nan, holding that arrow to the sheriff until the last. She was lucky she got him that close to her exit. A few feet more and she would have been caught. As soon as she was out, I "accidentally" triggered the lever that shut Nottingham's gates, smiling abashedly as the guards began working to open it. I was only a foolish woman.
And the heavens opened up.
*** **** **** **** **** **** *****
The rain fell in sheets. Robin drifted in and out of consciousness, slipping slowly off of Will's shoulder until he fell senseless in the mud. The outlaws were soaked to the skin, shivering.
Sara bent down and propped Robin's limp form against her own soaked shoulder, draping his arm across her neck. He groaned slightly. "Hush, Robin," she ordered gently. Will immediately protested. "Nay, Sara, I should take him."
Sara laughed. "He's light as thistledown, you fool," she jested. Nan sighed. "We need to find shelter. It is nearly twenty-five miles to Sherwood. We can not make it there today, you know. Robin's looking bad enough as the weather is now." She had calmed down now that Robin was safe. In fact, she was nearly back to her normal, caring self.
She sighed and bent down. "I can't take this anymore," she muttered. She lifted her dress to the knees. She bent down and removed the quiver strapped round her leg. "By the rood, was that uncomfortable," she muttered, "but I'll admit that it worked." Sara laughed. "Aye, and it is quite a wonder it did. Poor Gatty was making quite a clank. If it weren't for her leaning on that staff, they would've suspected something. As it was, they thought it was the clunk of her lame foot."
Will nervously watched his cousin, who was slowly coming to. Sara smiled encouragingly. "Cold out, isn't it, master?" she cajoled. Robin snorted, bemused but tired. "Aye, serf," he mumbled, clutching her sleeve. Sara giggled. 'Well, at least he hasn't lost his lack of wit." Robin smiled, one good eye open now. He was trying to walk on his own, but he kept staggering. Sara always caught him when he fell, putting his arm back around her neck kindly. Will looked like he wanted to carry Robin in his arms like a babe, but he knew full well his cousin's pride would not allow that, though Will was sure his condition warranted it.
"You and Nan discuss where we go there, Will, my boyo," Sara commanded, shifting Robin's arm to keep him upright, "I'll take care of portly over here." She gestured towards Robin. Everyone laughed.
"We're going to Sherwood," Robin snapped, jerking his head upward. Will sighed. "Robin, you won't make it the next fifteen miles." Robin shook his head angrily. "We will not go to Sir Richard!" he cried. The exertion of yelling sapped his little energy, and he fell back on Sara's waiting shoulder, breathing heavily. Dozens of worried eyes watched him. Sara put an arm around his waist to help keep him standing, and forced his head onto her shoulder.
Nan grinned, thumping Robin on the shoulder. "Hadn't even considered that. Thanks." Robin shook his head. "We most certainly will n-"
Sara slammed her fist into his head as hard as she could. Robin slumped, and his eyes closed. "That ought to shut his mouth for now," she commented dryly.
*** **** **** ***** ***** **** ***** *****
Sir Richard's head cook came to the door of her kitchens. "No beggars," she barked. David stopped the door with his foot, showing her his most charming smile. "Not beggars," he corrected, gesturing towards the immobile Robin, who was currently senseless and held in his cousin's arms. The cook screamed. "Outlaws!"
Sir Richard of the Lea was there in a trice. "Pardon?" he asked, his head coming out the door. Sara smiled. "Good day, my lord. Perhaps we can sleep in the kitchen tonight? He needs warmth to heal." She waited, staring intently at the lord of the Lea. "Oh," she added, staring at Robin's completely unrecognizable face, "He's Robin Hood."
Sir Richard opened the door and the entire band of outlaws filed in. Nan smiled, rubbing her shoulders and basking in the newfound warmth of a fire. They could not light fires at night in Sherwood, because it would be suspicious. Everyone else shared her glee in this rare treat. The cook sighed. "You can warm up, but then you're getting out, understood?" she barked. The wolf's heads nodded obediently.
"I - well, you may stay here, of course, but I am having half the nobility in the shire here tonight for a celebration, and it may be dangerous for you to be here," Sir Richard called, shutting the door behind them. Sara's head jerked up. "We - we should not be here. We endanger him," she hissed to Will. He looked down at Robin and shook his head. "We have to risk it." He gently placed his cousin in a corner by the fire, smiling with satisfaction.
"Thank you, Sir Richard," Nan called, "We only need tonight, and we will leave tomorrow, early in the morn." Robin glowered ferociously at her from the corner where he'd been dropped. "We'll leave NOW," he snapped.
Sara raised her fist. "When did you wake up?"
"A few moments ago - and Will, I told you not to carry me."
"Do not force me to knock you senseless again," she barked. Robin scowled intensely at her, black clouds in his one open eye. "You just adore inconveniencing people, don't you?" he sneered. Sara rolled her eyes at him. "Please ignore the pest in the corner, my lord," she said to Sir Richard, smiling.
Sir Richard smiled in return. "Well, we shall have to forgive him, since he is incapacitated. And if I remember correctly, Robin cannot for the life of him handle lying still." He raised an eyebrow at Robin, who pretended not to catch the gesture, and was instead fiddling with the frayed edges of his tunic. But Sir Richard continued staring intently at him, and finally he jerked his head up. "Aye, my lord?" he asked, pleasant as ever.
Sara was fuming at this sudden show of geniality. Sir Richard smiled cordially. "Nothing," he replied happily. Robin nodded solemnly. "Thank you again, my lord," he said, "I did not mean to sound ungrateful."
"Well, you did," Sara snapped at him. Robin pretended not to hear her.
Sir Richard nodded. "Well, this house is, in all technicality, yours," he replied. Robin shook his head fervently. His head spun. They had had this argument before. "Nay. It is yours. It always has been, and shall be until your death. It was only stolen from you, and I merely stole it back." Sara grinned roguishly, remembering. Sir Richard had been in debt, as he was required to pay the blood money for a man his son, also Richard, killed. But he could not pay, and the sheriff and bishop were threatening to take his lands away. On the day they were due to strip kind Sir Richard of his domain, Robin had shown up, hair dyed blonde by some infernal flower, and thrown double over the amount owed at the sheriff's feet, smirk on his face and mocking laughter in his voice. He called it payment for past kindness. The other outlaws did not understand, but Sir Richard had. And he had smiled gratefully. Now, Sir Richard sighed. "Yet --"
"Besides, it was not only I doing the robbing. The others actually did more than I did."
Sara quickly interrupted their debate. "So it belongs to neither of you, but to every fat pig that had the rotten luck to use the Nottingham High Road that particular month," she snapped, 'Since it is their money that paid for its return."
Robin smiled weakly, and Sir Richard laughed aloud. "A witty maid," he told her. Sara shrugged. "Thank you, my lord," she replied happily, bowing. Then she smirked childishly at Robin. "Beat that, fiend!" she snapped.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ****
I stood casually in the crowd, waiting with the peasants under my cloak. The hanging was taking place right outside the town gates, where the grass had been long dead, and there was already an ancient gallows erected. Usually these events were held in the inner square, but that popular gibbet was already full of swaying poacher corpses. Besides, Robin Hood's ravaged body would offer a nice warning to any visiting ruffians. I was sure that the sheriff was not too excited about the arrangement, considering he would be unable to spit upon Robin's body every day. Moreover, any criminal rescuers would have a trouble-free escape route.
None of the onlookers carried weapons; those had been removed at the gate. The sky was darkening, and I knew it would rain heavily soon. There had been promise of such a storm for days now. A large number of those around me already had their hoods up. I eyed the foreboding gibbet with loathing. I would sooner place my own neck in that noose than stand with these cheering buffoons as Robin swung. How could they forget him so quickly? How many of them had he helped?
There was a movement in the crowd, coming from the direction of Nottingham Castle. I saw four of Nottingham's guards, one for each corner of the podium upon which the noose was. Robin was being dragged by the first two. He could not stand on his own. His face was nearly unrecognizable, nose smashed and burn mark tearing through his appearance. What was left of his tunic was torn and ragged, hanging off him in shreds. The only thing keeping it plastered to his torso was the dried blood from his wounds holding it captive. His eyes were squinted against the unexpected light of day. The guards yanked him up onto the platform. He winced at the pain in his arms. They threw him to the floor roughly. He cried out in pain.
I waited for everyone in the crowd to roar with laughter, wincing in expectation. But they said nothing. Nobody laughed. There was not a sound. I grinned to myself under the secret shade of my hood. The one time they had any entertainment and they gave it up! My eyes darted round, catching a glimpse of every single solemn face, some glowering, and feeling like the world was perfect again. My heart, leaden before, lightened. Taking a breath of this faithful air, I sensed fragments of joy returning to my heart. They had come to see a rescue, not a death.
Nay, wait. A small group was snickering. Everyone else turned to glower at them.
I pretended not to recognize Richard, who was leading the group. Everyone else, on the other hand, let him know bloody well they recognized and loathed his presence. Every look seemed to ask, "Why are you here?" He and his friends were the center of attention for a few moments, scores of hostile eyes beating upon them. They shut up.
The sheriff came up onto the platform and kicked Robin in the side. "Stand up, outlaw," he ordered. Robin staggered to his feet, and then fell to his knees. "I cannot," he murmured, voice cracking. The sheriff burst into laughter. "Stand!" he barked again, this time sending his boot into Robin's stomach. Robin groaned so quietly I could barely hear him, and tried again. He managed by some miracle of God to stand. I thanked whoever up there helped him. Then the sheriff knocked him down.
Someone in the crowd protested loudly. Others joined him in roaring at the sheriff. I had to grin. Thank heaven for loyalty. Inwardly, I flinched at my own thought. What loyalty to Robin there was, none came from me. The sheriff glowered, and kicked Robin again. "Get up," he commanded once more. Robin crawled to his knees and shook his head. "I cannot," he repeated miserably, shame written all over his expression.
The largest guard finally took pity on Robin; he grabbed his arm and forced him to stay upright. This greatly annoyed the sheriff, who had heartily enjoyed publicly humiliating his prisoner. By now, Robin's eyes had adjusted to the light. He blinked, staring at the crowd. "You - you're here," he stammered. They all giggled and chuckled. Robin smiled. His lip was bleeding down his chin.
Prince John was sitting in his own pompous corner of the square, smiling slightly and surrounded by guards. No one had even introduced him. I did not for a minute think it was his own humility. He was only placing huge emphasis on this stupid hanging, trying to get a message out. I glowered at him, though one face of a thousand was not going to matter to him. Next to the prince was my cousin Aedre, taking my place. She was nervously scanning the crowd, and doing everything in her power to avoid looking at Robin. The sight of him had brought her near to tears, and the sheriff's public torment had caused her to whimper in sympathy. Prince John was continually asking her what was wrong. Aedre was too compassionate for her own good sometimes, disregarding his comments with a dismissive flick of her hand. Besides which, she was searching for me. We had a plan to execute.
I had not seen my outlaw friends. But I had spotted Adam Bell, the only other outlaw leader in Sherwood. What was he doing here? Did he too loathe Robin? I turned my face upward to watch Robin. His good eye fell on Adam, as mine had, and a wry smile appeared for a trice on his face. Adam nodded slightly, a smirk on his face. Friends? I was under the impression they were enemies.
Prince John stood. "Keep the outlaw quiet until I say otherwise!" he bellowed. Robin whirled around to scowl fiercely at him. "I did not know that our sheriff had stooped so low in his standards as to rank wild pigs among our shire's citizens!" he cried. Robin HATED Prince John. HATED. The crowd was howling with raucous laughter.
One of the shorter guards struck Robin viciously across his broken nose. Robin did not even blink. There was strength in anger, and just the sight of the usurper drove him mad. "That was a rather pathetic blow for someone in mail," he spat, though a nasty bruise was forming, in the shape of a human hand. The peasants cheered, laughing happily, and some clapping. God, I loved them.
"Hang him already!" Prince John screamed, face glowing scarlet. Robin was dragged towards the noose and forced to stand upon the stool. "Any last words outlaw?" the sheriff asked, smirking. Robin smirked in return. "You'll never catch Will Scarlet!" he bellowed, curling his lip in disgust, "And I go to my death knowing I need not threaten maids to conquer my enemies." Again, the crowd chuckled. The noose was around his neck. I was crying quietly into my cloak. Not Robin. The priest stood behind the sheriff, ready to say the basic absolution. "Shall I?"
The sheriff leaned towards Robin's ear. "To Hell with you," he murmured, "and say that I sent you." And he set him swinging. The fall didn't break his neck. He was too bloody light. I screamed. He'd sent him straight to Hell. The sheriff was seriously going to send him to death with that murder on his soul. By heaven. The plan had dissolved from my mind in worry.
Suddenly, Aedre screamed that someone was robbing her. All eyes turned from Robin's kicking, swinging form and watched her. Adam Bell was holding a knife to her throat. God's hands! That was not part of our plan.
Arrows whizzed through the air simultaneously, and Robin dropped to the ground. The largest guard sent a knife through the ropes binding his hands. This was all a bit too fast for the other three guards to register, as their bulging eyes were focused strictly on the safety of a noblewoman. For a moment, gasping Robin could not move. He posed on his knees, staring in bafflement at his livid, FREE wrists. The guard pushed him into the crowd. It was then I realized the largest guard, whose height I had recognized instantly, was Little John.
Will was next to his fallen cousin in an instant. Where had he come from? I was as utterly baffled as Nottingham's guards. "Run!" he cried, grabbing Robin by the arm. And then, realizing his cousin could hardly stand, much less run, his eyes sparked with pity and he helped him to stand up.
The crowd scattered, screaming and flailing, as another volley of arrows were sent into the gaps between people. I, of course, recognized one of Robin's panic instigation tactics, but the sheriff was oblivious. "GUARDS!" the sheriff screeched, "CLOSE THE GATES, CURSE YOU! AND FIND THOSE ARCHERS!" Robin, leaning heavily against Will's shoulder, practically carried, looked back. He was muttering something to Will, but the taller continually dismissed him, actually running. Will often underestimated his own strength. The gates of Nottinghamshire were closing.
A flash of orange whizzed through the crowd, away from the gate, and tore towards our sheriff. "CLOSE THE GATES!" the sheriff was roaring, "CLOSE THE -" The orange flash kicked him in the throat, knocking him to the ground.
Nan kept her foot on the sheriff's neck, planting him to the ground. Her wild hair had fallen from its braid and was whipping round her head in the wind. Eyes alight with hatred, she held a notched arrow two inches from his forehead. "Keep the gates open!" she ordered. Everyone froze, screams halfway through their throats, watching the peasant girl about to murder the sheriff.
"Nan, don't!" someone cried, breaking the perfect silence. The words were slurred. Robin.
"Kill her!" the sheriff ordered. The guards drew their swords. "They take a step and I'll kill you," Nan threatened. "Stay put!" the coward bellowed. I smiled slightly. Nan knew her man, obviously.
"Now," Nan ordered, "Keep those gates open." The sheriff shook his head. Nan moved her arrow forward. "A Welsch longbow can go straight through a man at twenty times this length. I wonder how deep it should go now."
"DO NOT CLOSE THE GATES!"
The guards remained still and in place and the outlaws filed out. Prince John was fuming in his seat, face a shining crimson. Adam Bell, realizing his chance for escape, left Aedre, saluting to her. "My lady," he said, "You have been a great aid in this conquest." Aedre blushed. "Please refrain from doing this again," she asked. Adam Bell bowed low, winking, and stepped out the gates. Last to go was Nan, holding that arrow to the sheriff until the last. She was lucky she got him that close to her exit. A few feet more and she would have been caught. As soon as she was out, I "accidentally" triggered the lever that shut Nottingham's gates, smiling abashedly as the guards began working to open it. I was only a foolish woman.
And the heavens opened up.
*** **** **** **** **** **** *****
The rain fell in sheets. Robin drifted in and out of consciousness, slipping slowly off of Will's shoulder until he fell senseless in the mud. The outlaws were soaked to the skin, shivering.
Sara bent down and propped Robin's limp form against her own soaked shoulder, draping his arm across her neck. He groaned slightly. "Hush, Robin," she ordered gently. Will immediately protested. "Nay, Sara, I should take him."
Sara laughed. "He's light as thistledown, you fool," she jested. Nan sighed. "We need to find shelter. It is nearly twenty-five miles to Sherwood. We can not make it there today, you know. Robin's looking bad enough as the weather is now." She had calmed down now that Robin was safe. In fact, she was nearly back to her normal, caring self.
She sighed and bent down. "I can't take this anymore," she muttered. She lifted her dress to the knees. She bent down and removed the quiver strapped round her leg. "By the rood, was that uncomfortable," she muttered, "but I'll admit that it worked." Sara laughed. "Aye, and it is quite a wonder it did. Poor Gatty was making quite a clank. If it weren't for her leaning on that staff, they would've suspected something. As it was, they thought it was the clunk of her lame foot."
Will nervously watched his cousin, who was slowly coming to. Sara smiled encouragingly. "Cold out, isn't it, master?" she cajoled. Robin snorted, bemused but tired. "Aye, serf," he mumbled, clutching her sleeve. Sara giggled. 'Well, at least he hasn't lost his lack of wit." Robin smiled, one good eye open now. He was trying to walk on his own, but he kept staggering. Sara always caught him when he fell, putting his arm back around her neck kindly. Will looked like he wanted to carry Robin in his arms like a babe, but he knew full well his cousin's pride would not allow that, though Will was sure his condition warranted it.
"You and Nan discuss where we go there, Will, my boyo," Sara commanded, shifting Robin's arm to keep him upright, "I'll take care of portly over here." She gestured towards Robin. Everyone laughed.
"We're going to Sherwood," Robin snapped, jerking his head upward. Will sighed. "Robin, you won't make it the next fifteen miles." Robin shook his head angrily. "We will not go to Sir Richard!" he cried. The exertion of yelling sapped his little energy, and he fell back on Sara's waiting shoulder, breathing heavily. Dozens of worried eyes watched him. Sara put an arm around his waist to help keep him standing, and forced his head onto her shoulder.
Nan grinned, thumping Robin on the shoulder. "Hadn't even considered that. Thanks." Robin shook his head. "We most certainly will n-"
Sara slammed her fist into his head as hard as she could. Robin slumped, and his eyes closed. "That ought to shut his mouth for now," she commented dryly.
*** **** **** ***** ***** **** ***** *****
Sir Richard's head cook came to the door of her kitchens. "No beggars," she barked. David stopped the door with his foot, showing her his most charming smile. "Not beggars," he corrected, gesturing towards the immobile Robin, who was currently senseless and held in his cousin's arms. The cook screamed. "Outlaws!"
Sir Richard of the Lea was there in a trice. "Pardon?" he asked, his head coming out the door. Sara smiled. "Good day, my lord. Perhaps we can sleep in the kitchen tonight? He needs warmth to heal." She waited, staring intently at the lord of the Lea. "Oh," she added, staring at Robin's completely unrecognizable face, "He's Robin Hood."
Sir Richard opened the door and the entire band of outlaws filed in. Nan smiled, rubbing her shoulders and basking in the newfound warmth of a fire. They could not light fires at night in Sherwood, because it would be suspicious. Everyone else shared her glee in this rare treat. The cook sighed. "You can warm up, but then you're getting out, understood?" she barked. The wolf's heads nodded obediently.
"I - well, you may stay here, of course, but I am having half the nobility in the shire here tonight for a celebration, and it may be dangerous for you to be here," Sir Richard called, shutting the door behind them. Sara's head jerked up. "We - we should not be here. We endanger him," she hissed to Will. He looked down at Robin and shook his head. "We have to risk it." He gently placed his cousin in a corner by the fire, smiling with satisfaction.
"Thank you, Sir Richard," Nan called, "We only need tonight, and we will leave tomorrow, early in the morn." Robin glowered ferociously at her from the corner where he'd been dropped. "We'll leave NOW," he snapped.
Sara raised her fist. "When did you wake up?"
"A few moments ago - and Will, I told you not to carry me."
"Do not force me to knock you senseless again," she barked. Robin scowled intensely at her, black clouds in his one open eye. "You just adore inconveniencing people, don't you?" he sneered. Sara rolled her eyes at him. "Please ignore the pest in the corner, my lord," she said to Sir Richard, smiling.
Sir Richard smiled in return. "Well, we shall have to forgive him, since he is incapacitated. And if I remember correctly, Robin cannot for the life of him handle lying still." He raised an eyebrow at Robin, who pretended not to catch the gesture, and was instead fiddling with the frayed edges of his tunic. But Sir Richard continued staring intently at him, and finally he jerked his head up. "Aye, my lord?" he asked, pleasant as ever.
Sara was fuming at this sudden show of geniality. Sir Richard smiled cordially. "Nothing," he replied happily. Robin nodded solemnly. "Thank you again, my lord," he said, "I did not mean to sound ungrateful."
"Well, you did," Sara snapped at him. Robin pretended not to hear her.
Sir Richard nodded. "Well, this house is, in all technicality, yours," he replied. Robin shook his head fervently. His head spun. They had had this argument before. "Nay. It is yours. It always has been, and shall be until your death. It was only stolen from you, and I merely stole it back." Sara grinned roguishly, remembering. Sir Richard had been in debt, as he was required to pay the blood money for a man his son, also Richard, killed. But he could not pay, and the sheriff and bishop were threatening to take his lands away. On the day they were due to strip kind Sir Richard of his domain, Robin had shown up, hair dyed blonde by some infernal flower, and thrown double over the amount owed at the sheriff's feet, smirk on his face and mocking laughter in his voice. He called it payment for past kindness. The other outlaws did not understand, but Sir Richard had. And he had smiled gratefully. Now, Sir Richard sighed. "Yet --"
"Besides, it was not only I doing the robbing. The others actually did more than I did."
Sara quickly interrupted their debate. "So it belongs to neither of you, but to every fat pig that had the rotten luck to use the Nottingham High Road that particular month," she snapped, 'Since it is their money that paid for its return."
Robin smiled weakly, and Sir Richard laughed aloud. "A witty maid," he told her. Sara shrugged. "Thank you, my lord," she replied happily, bowing. Then she smirked childishly at Robin. "Beat that, fiend!" she snapped.
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