A/N: I wrote reviewer responses! Huzzah for moi! (I was a poet and I didn't even know it!) Anyhoot, everyone who reviewed since my last reviewer responses got one – I checked twice! - I hope you enjoy this chappie! Cuz I have the best reviewers on fanfiction – but shhh! – don't tell anyone! ;-)
Alison – Indeed, I can speak with an English accent. And any fool who says otherwise will be D-E-D, dead. Haha. Great movie, great movie. I always enjoy the little hints you put in your reviews! They make my day! Thanks so much!
Amadea – I heart your reviews! They're always short and sweet, and you come back every chapter! hugs You seem to get very emotional. Lol. I'm glad to know I can get my readers all worked up:-)
Black Pixie – I am blatantly anonymous, and you know it. wink I should be an FBI agent or something. Anyhoot, I am very glad that you like Sara, because she's a weird combo of me and my sister (more sister). And she has to be likeable, after all. She took Will from us hopeless fan girls, by glory! Haha. Maybe that's why my Marian's so hard to sympathize with. She didn't take nothing special, so I didn't have to make her likeable. (haha. Jkjk) And speaking of not being likeable, some people on this website never update! You know the type? Lordie, they're annoying. awkward pause Oh, right. You're one of them. So sorry, sorry--- haha. Jk jk
Black Sheep Alone – Are you proud of me? Because I did update sooner, as you asked! bows low I know; I'm a god. Jk jk. You really make my day cuz you're a consistent reviewer! Much love!
EntertainedbyGrass – Haha. I love your pen name. Does it mean you're easily amused? Because I am too. My friend and I once laughed for a solid three minutes because she tripped over a sidewalk while we were running. But that's beside the point. Thanks for telling me the straight-up on "jennie". I just pick names at random cuz I like the way they sound. Historical accuracy and I aren't exactly connected at the hip. Lol.
HarryluvsMoaningMyrtle – Love the pen name! And thank you for your reviews!
Indigo Dream – Thanks for imparting your New England Young Writers thingie knowledge to me. I never listen to things that my friends say about my writing (they all wanna be scientists, you know), but I do listen to my reviewers. gasp! Thanks again! And you write such loverly reviews! They always have a ton of information, and I look forward to them (even when they're a little late!-)
Inky – Yay! Another reader! I'm so glad you've discovered and that you looked at the Robin Hood section! I heart Robin Hood stories, and so I'm all chipper that there's another person in this area of As for this story being well-researched, I just read too many medieval novels. :-) Sorry about all the cursing, but they said 'damn' all the time back then, supposedly. And I'm a bit of a potty-mouth myself. Haha.
Jadeyuy- You wanted to know how old I was going to have them, so here it is! I have Robin at 19ish, Marian at 20ish, Will at 21ish, and Sara at 20ish. John – I think he's 24ish, but I'm not totally sure yet. David16ish, Allan16ish, Lucy17ish.
Kate/Eh,Man – Beta buddy! You're so flipping nice. Not only do you muck through my over-obsession with the word "and" (lol) and my unusual ability to leave out nouns, but you leave me reviews! And you use your powers of French for good, not evil! ;-) You're the best!
Llyra Monroe – Kudos to thee for your props to Flogging Molly. (And for knowing who they are in general. Most people stare at my like I have serious issues when I say, "I love flogging molly!". Cuz you can take it as a verb/object thing and….yeah.) And your reviews always crack me up. Like the little dialogue w/Robin thing. You're brilliant, mi compadre. Now use that brilliance and start writing stuff again!
Nightvision-uk – I hope you soon have time to read more! (And if not, I'm glad that my first chapter was enough of a teaser to earn a spot in your favorites list!)
Omlette Girl – Guiness-soaked genius! Eeeeeee! Another Flogging Molly fan! Yes! I am not alone! happy jig! (All the posers at my school prefer Dropkick Murphys. Their fecking loss.) And then, of course, you are also a fellow track sufferer. I don't really know why I do it to myself. I'm not even good at it. But anyways, thank you so much for your very constructive and enthusiastic reviews! You always make 'em nice and long, and I always look forward to them! -
ProxyWorker – Yep, Robin can't die. Lol. I'd be screwed over and left w/out much of a plot, eh? ;-) Thanks for reviewing!
Psalm 136 - nibbles on cookies Indeed, I was persuaded….-
Rhapsody's Song – You are so bloody helpful, do you know that? All the stuff that you don't understand, I suddenly realize that I don't understand what the flip I was writing either. It is verily helpful for editing. Kudos to you. And I'm sorry that despite your helpfulness, I sent you into your corner of depression. pats Rhapsody's Song on the head consolingly
Ruby – And here I thought I was the only one who took archery! High five! But my apologies for the language a few chapters ago. (I think I already explained this a teensy bit, but I'll repeat myself. ;-) I based Gisbourne on this poser I know who thinks he's cool because he swears a lot. He's a bully and I'm convinced he'll grow up to be a serial killer of some sort. So I thought he'd make a perfect bloodthirsty knight. Thank you again for your constructive criticism. You always offer some, and it is muchly appreciated. High fives for both archery and honesty!
Squirrel Maiden of Green - haha. Nice medieval language: "verily, I do pine when it is not updated." I enjoyed it, since I'm deficient and can't write that fancy stuff at all.I heart your reviews, and you rock!
The Noble Rot – I can't believe that you read this whole thing through in one night! gets unusually happy I'm sorry about costing you your law school homework. Lol. But at the same time, I'm insanely happy that you enjoyed my little ficcie so much! Thank you for making my day. throws cookies/pies/muffins/whatever-the-heck-The Noble Rot-likes best
Robin was sitting on the floor of the hall, wincing in pain. Sara sighed. "Bite the dagger, Rob. This is going to hurt like--"
"Bloody flaming Hell!"
"Aye."
He turned his head away as Sara finished stitching the wound in his shoulder, his teeth clamped around the dagger in a death-grip. Fecks, that hurt. There was a sharp snap as she bit the thread. "Done," she announced, finishing off her knot.
Robin spat the dagger onto the floor. He turned eagerly to inspect his newly closed wound. It was stitched shut very neatly, and he had to admire Sara's skill. But he was not about to praise her after she'd promised it wouldn't hurt a bit. "Did you really have to make so many stitches?" he snapped.
She snorted. "If you want that blasted thing to close. You saw how many your leg needed, didn't you? Here – it's bleeding a bit."
Robin's eyebrow snapped into an arch. "You did stick a needle in my flesh."
"I'll stick one in your eye if you don't sit still."
"And I'll stick my foot in yours if you tell another lie. 'It won't hurt a whit, Rob – only a few stitches'. Ha! Whoring midwives!"
Sara did not return his teasing. "Will says that, doesn't he?"
Robin's face lost its playful smile. "Aye," he mumbled, eyes downcast. The two of them went quiet. The outlaws had been at the Lea for nearly a sennight, and there had been no sign of Will. At Marian's request, young Richard had even sent out a reward for the younger Norwell – alive, of course. But he was still missing.
David barreled into the room. "Rob! Sara! Sir Richard has returned! And he brings – he brings…" David's voice dropped, and his eyes were wide. "He brings the king with him."
Sara's mouth fell open, and she stared in blank awe at their messenger. The king of England, come to see them? She wondered what his reaction to her brogue would be; even better, what his reaction to the real Robin Hood would be. Knowing English nobility, the whole lot of them would be headless on the morrow.
But Robin whooped in excitement. "King Richard has come home then? And come to the Lea?" The king was home! Good sweet heaven, the king was home! And if Sir Richard brought him, it could mean pardons for them all! Or at least a consideration! He was confident that the knight would not willingly lead Sherwood's outlaws into danger. The king had come home! Robin cried out with joy again and leapt to his feet. Pain in his shoulder or no, nothing compared to this news.
David followed his leader down the hall, fiddling awkwardly with his fingers. "But, Rob, there's someone else with him…there's--"
Robin turned around, still grinning. "Aye, David? It could be the devil himself and I'd laugh."
"It's Will, but – don't smile like that – he's been captured."
Robin stopped smiling. "What?" The hall rang with the word. "Who captured him?" His voice was growing panicked. "It couldn't be Sir Richard, and the king doesn't know who he is and the sheriff would be bragging if he'd--"
"The lady of Locksley's foresters found him."
Robin blinked a few times, and then he frowned. "Since when are foresters under Locksley's control?"
David simpered. "The king gave them that eastern bit of Sherwood, remember? There's a turf wall and everything to separate it from the king's Sherwood, but we never go there."
Robin swore viciously and spat on the ground. He remembered now. Some long-forgotten Locksley had been given it by the king, as thanks for some service or another. It was easy enough to forget, what with the intense tracking the outlaws suffered from the king's foresters. Prince John had granted their control to the sheriff for obvious political reasons, but he didn't dare give away what was Locksley's in the east. That lot caused the outlaws so little trouble Robin had nearly forgotten them. Of course, the one damned thing they forgot. "Any more grand news?"
David grimaced. "The sheriff."
Robin shut his eyes. Stab me. Now. "Thank you for telling us, David."
"Aye, Rob."
Robin smiled wearily at him and then started for the stable yard. Bloody Hell. That explained why Will had been so late. But why were Locksley's foresters out on the hunt – and out of their usual area? The outlaws only terrorized the High Road, and that was strictly the sheriff's jurisdiction. Never had they stolen so much as a pinch of flour from that sorry excuse for a pig yard leading to Locksley. That would have been sheer idiocy, attacking some useless seldom-traveled road and infuriating a powerful noblewoman. Were the nobles out for hire, then? The Lady of Locksley had hired her own foresters out to the sheriff for this occasion, mayhap? Had Locksley come into money troubles? Or had she—
He stopped dead.
Good God.
He tore down the hallway, streaking past doorways and slipping around corners. A page blinked curiously at him when he fell and slid onto his side, but he just charged back to his feet and continued sprinting for the stable yard. It hurt; he was not going to deny that his leg burned, but he had to reach the king or Sir Richard, or – someone who could help him.
He threw his shoulder against a door and the leather hinges willingly gave way to even his slight weight. He staggered out into the rich light of morning that filled the hallway, sickness bubbling in his mouth. Denial clawed at his innards, fear added a cold bite to his blood, and panic jerked about his arms and legs. He struggled in vain in conceal his worry, but his fingers seemed to shake in their own breeze.
It couldn't be true she had taken Will. His mother, that whore of the shire, couldn't have gotten her hands on him. She had hated her nephew, ever since eleven-year-old Will had hurled the boar's head at her during her wedding dinner, calling her a heartless Hell-sent whore and telling the entire room how she had abandoned nine-year-old Robin to his own. Will's father had given him the switching of his life for it, but that didn't save the Lady of Locksley. At every opportunity he had, Will would insult her or remind the other nobles of her past and cost her political allies, up to the very day he came to Sherwood. He had never forgiven her, and she had returned the favor with a very dangerous grudge of her own.
Robin hopped out a window to land on the stable roof. A few stable lads were already perched there, and they were staring open-mouthed at the approaching train.
Some servants below were milling about, watching eagerly for the train's arrival. Others were scattering about in frenzy as the steward roared orders, his face reddening. Maids came spilling from the halls with old and smelly rushes in their hands while serving wenches went in the other way with fresh ones to scatter on the hall floor.
The group of nobles and royalty was only a cloud of dust beneath the horizon, their horses muffled black smudges and their banners alone clear to the eye. The triple lion of England's warrior king was considerably the largest in the train, followed by the black boar on Locksley's blood red pennant and the green tree of the Lea. The sheriff, lacking nobility, had no standard but that of the sheriff's office in Nottingham. Robin smirked, knowing it was a sore spot with the merchant-class man.
As preparations reached a peak commotion, Sir Richard's own horses were taken out to graze in an attempt to make space for the guests' own beasts. The steward glanced nervously at the distant pageant. Features were becoming clearer, and the frowning faces of the train's members were emerging from the fuzz. And another more definite component….
Will's obnoxiously loud voice was rocking against the walls of the Lea.
"Whore!" he cried, "The lady of Locksley is a flaming whore! WHORE!"
Robin smirked despite himself, and the stable lads snickered to one another.
"You want your guards to gag me, milady?" Will continued loudly, in a tone of mock surprise. "But I thought you said nothing I said could affect you! Have I finally gotten to you, then?" He laughed heartily. "Whore! Whore! Heartless whore!"
Sir Richard was the first into the yard. Throwing his reins to a stable lad, he quickly ordered the servants to prepare rooms for their guests. His own rooms were to be cleared for the king's use, and his dead wife's rooms for the Lady of Locksley. The sheriff would have that small room by the only tower the Lea had, and one of the tiny chambers off the kitchen would have to serve as Will's prison. The Norwells would have a fit if he were treated as a common criminal, outlaw or no.
Robin leapt from the roof and dashed to the knight. "Sir," he began.
Sir Richard jumped in shock. "What in God's name are you doing here?" he cried.
"We came – we came for shelter a sennight past. Shall we leave now?" Robin asked it out of courtesy, but in honesty they weren't leaving without Will.
"Nay, nay." Sir Richard seemed distracted. "I was ordered to summon your band at any length; your arrival spares my horse the High Road's mud."
"Then might I ask you what has happened to my cous-"
Sir Richard shook his head. "Not now, Robin, pray."
"But--"
The knight's eyes saddened. "I know."
"Why did she---"
"I know nothing of it but that she appeared in London with Will as her prisoner and demanded an audience with the king. I can tell you no more of the matter."
"But--"
"Robin, please-"
"What crime has he committed? There is no price on his head!"
"He has killed three of her most prized foresters."
"Why did she need to see the king for that? It is not--"
"I was hardly invited to the audience. Her ladyship insisted upon its being pri-"
Robin grabbed Sir Richard's arm, forcing him to stop. "Will she see him die?" His dark eyes were wild with fevered worry and frightened desperation.
Sir Richard looked away. "I – I know not. Now please leave me be. I have much to do with these new guests." He went to move away, but could not ignore the terror of the other man. "I will do what I can for him; that much I can tell you."
Robin retreated into the throng of servants. He watched in silence as the sheriff and lady rode into the stable yard, chatting like old friends. Will was bound and thrown over a horse behind them, still yelling insults at the lady, venom spitting from his voice. Every word brought a grimace to his victim's face, and she outright grit her teeth at some of them. Robin could not control his own grin, and when Will looked up and saw it, he winked. "Murdered any children lately, Auntie? Or are you content with leaving your son to starve?"
Elizabeth leapt from her horse, purpose and hatred in her step. She reached Will in three strides and struck him savagely across the face. He rolled off the horse and fell in the mud, earning himself the mocking laughter of the sheriff. But Will was sitting up in a trice, his face slathered in scorn. It seemed to Robin that his cousin was invincible when it came to humiliation. Even tumbling helplessly into the muck of a stable yard left his feathers unruffled. With his nose bleeding and horse dung in his hair, Will managed to contempt the lady who had pushed him. "Brave as ever, milady," he sneered.
Glaring, the lady of Locksley jerked her head up to survey the remainders of the small crowd. She frowned at the stable lads still reclining on the roof, trying to frighten each in turn to come and help her down. Finding no success, she began to pan the rest of her audience. When her eyes met Robin's, they narrowed sharply, as if she were trying to discover why she remembered his face. But she was soon distracted by the arrival of the Lionheart.
He entered last, preceded by a legion of servants. Towering above his personal guard, he was glaring with irritation. He shook his red-gold hair and snapped at one of the stable lads for handling his horse too roughly. Dismounting, he roared for Sir Richard, who came running out of a kitchen door, face drawn. "My liege?" he cried, flying to his king and dropping to one knee. "You wanted me?"
The king's response was a babble of furious French. The only two words Robin could make out from this distance were "Robin" and "Hood". Sir Richard nodded dutifully and offered his quiet replies, also in Norman French. The two of them continued chatting for a few moments, and then Sir Richard took a sharp turn into the manor.
Robin spun round and went to cut him off. Striding up the stairs, he bobbed his head to Lady Marian and tried to hurry past. But she put her hand on his arm, warm eyes deep with questions. "Who is it?" she asked, and he almost tore away. Looking at her, he wanted to dash his head against the stone and never wake again – never wake to see her wed Richard or look down at him – only stay with her eyes looking up at him and that meaningless gesture on his arm making his skin tingle.
"The king," he answered instead, "the king, the lady of Locksley, the sheriff, and Sir Richard have come. I believe the king wishes to speak with me. So pray excuse me as I go down to see him." He made a move to leave her behind, but she kept hold of him. "Robin Hood," she began. He came so close to wincing at that formality, but he recovered himself. "You cannot speak Norman French," she reminded.
"Nay, I can. Will taught me." He stopped and stared at the dirt on his feet.
She had obviously heard that much. "I am sorry for Will's capture." She, too, stared awkwardly at the ground. "You're barefoot."
He blinked at her. "Aye."
"The king might take that as an insult. I've heard he is very proud."
"Oh."
"I might – well, Richard has a few pairs of shoes. If you wanted, we could hurry to his chambers and – his men would let me in, I'm sure – if it would help at all we--"
"My gratitude."
She stopped mid-sentence and nodded awkwardly. "Oh, aye, then. Come – come along with me, then." The both of them jogged quickly to Richard's chambers, and Robin yanked on a pair of the other man's shoes. They pinched at his toes and they were far too wide for his narrow heels. But at least they were shoes. As he went to stand, Marian reached out almost unknowingly and fixed his hair. He went stock still, trying not to breathe. He knew he looked a mess, and Nan made the same sweeping move through his hair nearly every morn, but it felt so different when the fingertips were Marian's.
Peering upward at her, he quickly asked, "Do I look presentable now, milady?"
She smiled – a genuine, half-teasing half-cheering smile that she used to wear – and his lips eased upward of their own accord. "Aye," she answered, "the king cannot take too much offense."
He bowed quickly and then raced off down the corridor, trying not to think about the nice curve of her smile. Sir Richard was looking for him, and the king of England was waiting for him; he was in no position to think of lady's lips.
"Robin!" The old knight clamped onto his forearm and began dragging him toward the stable yard. "The king wishes to take a ramble about the grounds; his muscles are sore after that ride. And he wants Robin Hood to accompany him."
"He speaks Norman French?"
"Aye."
"Will taught me that; I'm far more than tolerable, but not completely fluent. And I tend to use large words."
"That's not a problem; he's a king, and he is accustomed to that."
"Has he heard that I am blonde and all of that?"
"Unfortunately, he has."
"Would he be angry if – well, if this appeared before him?"
"He has the Angevin temper, if that is what you are asking."
"So we are all as good as dead."
"You are wrong," a voice from down the hall called. Robin and Sir Richard whirled round to find Allan-a-Dale smirking merrily at them. He was bedecked in Lincoln green from his hood to his hose, and leather boots were on his feet. His green cap had a long brown feather in it, and a white hunting horn hung beside a sword on his borrowed leather belt. A bow was in his left hand, and feather-tipped arrows stood proudly in the quiver on his back.
An entertained smile spread across Robin's face as he took in the sight. Allan was the very picture of the ballad's Robin Hood, with his blonde hair and fine face.
"What are you smiling for, Robin? Don't you see? I am fluent in Norman French – it's the language of the nobility, after all, and I've played in their halls many times. I can pretend to be Robin Hood!"
"But Allan--"
"The king has heard of a blonde outlawed nobleman, a-t-il pas? Sir Richard – you repeated this tale and did not mention that Robin Hood was…well…"
"I did go along with the tale," the knight agreed, throwing an apologetic smile at Robin.
"How do you think the king will react when he hears of it being a lie? He will be furious; you do not lie to the Norman royalty if you wish to keep your head. We could not endanger your favor, since ours depends upon it."
"And so you suggest that we extend the lie?" Robin replied skeptically, secretly warming to the plan. Allan could play the idealist better than any of them, and he did fit the tale. Not to mention his exceptionally useful French fluency.
"You need a blonde, good-looking man fluent in Norman French! C'est moi!"
Robin's lips tilted into a smirk at the self-confidence, but he sincerely approved. "Very well, Allan-a-Dale. I ask you to please convince the king that we deserve a chance for pardon. Mention the ransom, the sheriff's corruption and involvement with Prince John--"
"The destitution of the Saxon people and their loyalty to his majestic and noble person?"
Robin laughed. "Aye, Allan, aye."
The minstrel bowed low, sweeping off his cap. "Worry not."
Lucy screeched in excitement, hurling her arm exuberantly round Allan's neck and kissing him ferociously. "Oh, you brilliant devil!" she cried, resting her face against his shoulder. "I can't believe you earned us a conference with the king of England!"
Robin and John dumped a bucket of water over Allan's curls, laughing and clapping him on the back in congratulation. Nan swung Sara around, hugging her tightly. "We shall get Will a pardon tomorrow, Sara! And then all of us can go home!"
The Irishwoman smiled sadly, but in truth she didn't believe that the lady of Locksley would ever let Will free.
A/N: Another chapter, another depressing ending...Thanks sooo much for sitting through this long chapter!