A/N: Okay. I know I took forever and a goldfish's lifespan, but my pre-calc teacher is a foaming-at-the-mouth beast. I got a six-minute lecture for asking to use the bathroom. The audacity of me!

Up hers.

Anyhoot, I had to study for her tests like crazy, and I wanted to kill Sir Isaac Newton, but Time had already done the job.

So please forgive me. :cue puppy dog eyes:

IMPORTANT NOTICE: THIS CHAPTER SUCKS. Remember how I've been saying I hated the last few chapters? This is the crest of the suckage hill. Hence, it's the longest. I struggled to fit in something I liked/that was worthwhile while not boring.

I failed.

Enjoy it anyways, and a sleigh load of thanks for reading! You comfort me after I get my pre-calc tests back. -

"Did someone let the dogs in?" The sheriff of Nottingham smirked at the victim of his latest witticism. Robin Hood looked back at him and shrugged. "You're here, aren't you?" Robin was sitting halfway up the staircase with a crust of bread in his hand. He'd spent the afternoon fitting himself into every dusty corner of the Lea, and jumping to his feet at the sound of someone else's. The panic had ebbed from a short stay on the staircase, which was frequented only by servants.

The sheriff frowned. "Silence, peasant. Where is the king?"

Robin's face tightened. "You will find him in the main hall."

"Angry with our king, are you? I did hear about your outburst today." A dart of wintry panic cracked Robin's calm. He should have known the sheriff was here to arrest him. Why didn't he sprint away when he had the chance? There were probably guards around the corner. Someone had given him away. He'd been trapped like a rat in the cellar.

But the sheriff wasn't moving. He was biding him time. "Why such fury? Is it because I shall be allowed to keep my position?"

A scornful snort burst from Robin's suppressed fear. "I might as well get mad at a dog because it was going to play the lute."

"You think I'll lose my position? Ha!"

Why is he still standing there? "I suppose you think that men have never been dismissed for being the devil incarnate?"

"If they're only a devil in the minds of fools, I doubt that the sane would dismiss them."

Robin popped an eyebrow. "And if they are dishonest devils?"

The sheriff tensed, staring hard at him. "What are you implying?"

Robin blinked with mock innocence. No one was going to arrest him. There were no guards around the corner, and he was safe. "Why, milord, I am not implying anything. I am merely being inquisitive."

"Inquisitive, is it?" His voice was jagged with scorn. "Here's a question – what am I going to do to you when the king orders you back into the Nottingham dungeons?"

Robin returned the scorn. "Prepare for the apocalypse, doubtless. Because that's when the king will order me into your dungeons. My band gave a grand sum to his ransom fund, unlike yourself."

"Ah, but I didn't insult him to his face."

Robin shrugged, glancing dismissively at the wall. "Nay, not to his face."

A vicious kick swung him stair-ward, and stone met spine. "Don't try to threaten me, outlaw."

Robin locked around his attacker's ankles and tugged them into the air. The sheriff's back smacked clumsily against the stairs, and Robin pinned him down by the shoulders. "I'm not in your dungeon anymore, Devilspawn; don't strike me unless you want your face broken. And that wasn't a mere threat."

A malicious grin snaked the length of the sheriff's lips. "Neither is this: William of Norwell will hang."

Robin hauled the sheriff towards him until their noses were nearly touching. "Devil take you," he hissed, "If Will hangs, I promise to stretch your neck from the highest tree on the High Road until Hell opens it mouth to eat you."

He stood, fingers bowed and squeezed into white-knuckled fists. It was wickedly satisfying to humble the man who had humiliated him so viciously. He stepped back. "But you only have a bit of time left before you meet with King Richard, and you have all eternity to roast in the Devil's fire. You may rise." Robin made himself sick; he was acting like a power-hungry bully, but he couldn't stop himself. It just felt so bloody good to drag his tormentor's self-esteem through the dirt.

The sheriff rose quickly and brushed himself off, wearing a sneer as if he'd won. "Revenge is best left to those with the means for accomplishing it," he snapped.

Robin let him have that parting shot. He tilted his head back and let it rest against the wall. He put his hands in his hair, and tried to calm down. He stared hatefully at the sheriff's retreating back, and was physically shaking with the desire to chase after him and knock him down. But he would have his revenge. He'd have it soon enough.
Nan came down the hall a bit later, hands on her hips and frown on her face. "Have you lost your wits, then, Robin?" she yelled.

He didn't look at her, eyes on the stair below him. "Nay, only my temper."

"Well, a grand lot of good it did us with the king. You owe Allan and Sir Richard a great debt for saving your life, do you know that?"

"Aye!" Robin knew he shouldn't have snapped; but he knew all too well how great his debt was.

"And what use did it do? Will isn't any closer to a pardon; if anything, he is farther from it because of your antics! What in all of God's green earth did you mean by that?"

"I don't know!" he shouted, and felt guilty when Nan jumped. The sheriff's threat was a drumbeat in his head. "But I do know that it was stupid! I just…what was I supposed to do?" His voice cracked open like a water jug, and he was sure the tears would spill out. "Did you expect me to sit there quietly while he sentenced my cousin to death?"

"He is the king of England, Rob! They bloody anointed the man!"

"Aye?" Bitterness locked his composure in place. "Pigs are greased for fair day just as well, but I don't hit my knees when they pass!"

She put her hands in her hair and growled in frustration. "You ill-tempered man!" she hissed, "It would have been far wiser to check that tongue of yours, and let Allan handle things. He understands nobles, does he not?"

"He doesn't understand how bloody much my mother hates Will."

"Halfwit! That's completely beside the point. Rational men don't attack the king of England's morals to his face!"

"And do you think that Will would have sat silent if I was the one that royally-greased hog sentenced to death?"

Nan sighed. "Nay," she answered, "but we expect Will to throw a fit. You fooled us into thinking that you were rational." She shook her head. "Heavens, Rob, could you not keep quiet? Sara managed to, and she's near sick with worry."

"I know." He sank down a bit, groaning. "It…I – I suppose she's just clever. And I'm not. She must be fit to kill me, and rightly so."

"Nay, she'll let you live a bit longer. She said she plans to congratulate you on saying what we all should have. But she's also promised to punch you so hard that your wits come out your ears. Take that as you will."

"Oh." He bit his lip and winced at the wall. "Do you really think I ruined Will's chances?"

"Nay," Nan answered, "He has Sir Richard on his side. And Will's a brave man; the king admires bravery. But royalty's fickle, and you were very rude. I don't – I don't know." She brushed at his unkempt hair. "Ah, Rob, what are we going to do with you?"

He shrugged. "If you want to please my mother and the king, jam a pike up my gullet." A concerned frown budded, gnawing at a corner of his lip. "Should you be in the hall now?"

"Lady Elizabeth has yet to arrive. I doubt that I'm needed if she isn't."

"She's not attending the conferences. Not invited, I suppose."

"Why not?"

"Because discussing terms with that bitch would be making a pact with the Devil. That's worthy of damnation –as she is."

"Robin!" Nan was disturbed by the casual hatred in her friend's voice.

"That woman is Hell-sent and Hell-bent! If she choked on her bread, I'd break out the strong ale and make merry 'til dawn!"

"That isn't Christian at all."

"Neither is my mother. And you can hardly condemn me for wanting a death that would set Will free."

She shrugged. "I should go soon. Will you walk with me to the door? I have to ask you about something."

Robin nodded obligingly, and the pair set off for the main hall.

Nan sighed. "How will we be able to show the king Lord Wilfred's information? Remember that bit of parchment he gave you in Sherwood, aye? Well, none of us can understand a word of it, and Allan certainly can't show it to him. He'd seem bloody deceitful and then we'd all be done in."

But Robin shook his head. "Nay, I gave it to Adam. He'll present it to the king."

"Oh, aye. That will work well; the man has only killed nine or ten nobles." Her tongue was leaking sarcasm.

He shrugged. "I doubt the king knows that much, and if he does, we can claim they were loyal to John. I've no doubt that Adam can lie himself out of Hell's belly."

"But Adam will present it?"

Robin shrugged, a half-light smile itching up his cheek. "Likely after the king says he will reinstate the sheriff."

At that Nan allowed herself an irresponsible snicker, and they were reconciled. Together they milled about the hall and waited with the other outlaws. The sheriff rammed the door open and stuck his head out. "When do you plan to enter, Robin Hood?"

Nan arched an eyebrow. "Robin Hood is still eating in the yard, milord sheriff, if you wish to speak to him."

"EXCUSE ME?" He pointed insistently at Robin. "Nay, this is the man I caught." There was hard panic in his tone, and blunt anger in the set of his mouth.

A dismissive shrug dropped from Nan's shoulders. "You caught the wrong man, Milord Sheriff. It is that simple."

Robin smiled smugly at the sheriff. "My name is Cabot Greenfox, milord sheriff. Doubtless you will have the pleasure of being introduced to my leader, Master Robin Hood, later in the day."

"Doubtless I will have the pleasure of treating him as I did you, later in the day."

"If you even try," Robin answered cheerfully, "William of Norwell will literally beat you to death."

"He'll beat me while in chains?" the sheriff asked sarcastically.

Robin shrugged. "You're a weak man."

"A weak man who had you weeping like a child." The sheriff slammed the door on the both of them.

"Son of a--"

Nan put a hand on Robin's arm. "I must head into the hall now, Rob," she said, "you stay out of sight and out of sound until we are finished." She smiled, half-warning.

He nodded but was glaring at a distant wall. "Aye, I have someone I must speak with, anyways."

"Who is that?" she asked nervously.

"One of the stable hands," he lied effortlessly, "I'm sure he pinched David's eating knife, and I'm in a mood to make him confess and return it."

She couldn't hide the relief that soaked her voice. "That's a good thing. I'll see you after our council."

"Aye. Good luck."

The king himself came charging into the room not a few minutes after Nan. "Am I to understand that the lot of you bears something against the sheriff?" he began quickly, arching both his eyebrows mockingly. Allan, seated at his sovereign's right hand, nodded elegantly. "Aye, we do. He raises the taxes past even the demands of your brother, Prince John, to make himself a profit. And, if I may say so, it is no small profit he makes."

"All you have against him is the taxes? We have such corruption across our land, and they were bound to be high when collecting my ransom. As difficult as paying them might have been, you can hardly think you are alone in your sufferings. It is no cause for the rebellion you have demonstrated."
"Nay, my liege," Allan replied evenly, never abandoning his pleasant formality, "Although the taxation is a significant part of our complaints, it is hardly our sole motive. As you may or may not know, being engaged with Crusade as you were, Prince John has given our lord sheriff the sincere honor of hosting His Majesty's foresters of Sherwood. Milord sheriff has given his own somewhat irresponsible brother the post of Chief Forester, and it is generally known that this man feasts on your majesty's own venison. Should one of the lower foresters bring a complaint against such unlawful behavior to the sheriff, he is either beaten badly by Nottingham's guards or brought into abject poverty by unfair wages for a day's labor. Also in regard to the forest, the turf wall which separate the king's realm in Sherwood from that of the Lord Norton has been lowered, and many of his majesty's deer have consequently been able to leap over into Lord Norton's forest range."
King Richard sighed and turned to the sheriff. "And in your own defense?" he asked, expecting a perfectly legitimate excuse. Of course, the sheriff had one.
"I suppose I shall have to defend myself from each of these supposed crimes one at a time. So, to begin - I raise the taxes only to Prince John's requirements. But one must forgive them in that error, for peasants are rather dull and inept at doing sums. They are therefore incapable of understanding the importance of procuring the king's ransom. And the Chief Forester? I certainly knew nothing of that awful practice, and I assure you I will speak to him about on the morrow at the latest. I knew well he paid some more than others, but I supposed it was based on the amount of work done."
The sheriff sneered wickedly at Allan for a moment and then turned an innocent face back to King Richard. "I shall remove my brother, clearly, for he cannot hold his post well, but I see no reason that I should be removed for a crime that is not of my own doing. I only wish that these outlaws had voiced their dissent instead of turning first to violence. However, one must forgive them their ignorant ways; many of these men are nearly animals. Only the ill-bred can even bear to converse with them."

Allan smiled pleasantly at the sheriff. "His Majesty and I spoke together for quite some time this morn."

Sir Richard almost laughed aloud. Allan was showing an unanticipated talent for court manners and backstabbing.

The sheriff gulped like a beached mackerel. Allan's eyebrows darted expectantly into his forehead, mocking twin crescents awaiting an answer. "Are you short of breath, milord?" the minstrel asked politely, clasping his hands and turning an attentive face to the sheriff.

King Richard sighed. "Leave the blunderer free of your wit, Robin," he said, a fond smile on his face as he looked at Allan. "The king's justice must be deliberated now."

Allan bowed his head obediently. "As you wish it, Your Majesty. But might I add another charge before you deliberate?"

"Very well, very well."

"Milord sheriff, despite his indomitable wit," – the barb stuck – "has a blindness which results from noxious ambition. This self-serving sentiment of his drove him to an arrogant act of treasonous nature. He encouraged your brother, Prince John, to usurp your throne and rule England in your place!"

"I never--"

"Why then was Prince John at the hanging of one of my followers? Why then has he been at your castle numerous times – more oft than any proud royalty would patronize some country sheriff? Also, why at one of these visits, did you promise the prince the use of your castle in the…how did you phrase it? Ah, in the 'coming rise of a younger brother to his right place'. Pray, I am eager to hear your explanations."

The outlaws were enjoyably shocked by Allan's unexpected ferocity. They had never thought of him as much of a wit, much less a debater, but he was slicing the sheriff's image to ribbons.

"I was referring to the prince's rise to regent, outlaw. It was well-known that all at court preferred him to the current regent, William Longchamp. He was planning to assume the post by force within the next fortnight, and I pledged my allegiance to his cause. Your Majesty, I can assure you that if your brother had any plans of usurping the throne, I would have shut my doors to him. You are God's anointed and rightful king of this water-walled nation…"

"Why then would you dispute his majesty's choice for regent?" Allan snapped, unimpressed by the sheriff's recovery.

King Richard sighed. "Silence, the both of you. Your bickering wearies me, and I shall deliberate now." He paused, staring at his hands for a few minutes. The others in the room did not make a sound, quietly glancing at one another or holding hands in fear. If the sheriff were reinstated, he would make their lives living Hell, pardons or not. They could expect little peace; nights awake with the candles lit, and unjust accusations were undoubtedly in their future.
And so when their sovereign stirred, their eyes went wide with fear and anxiety. "I have decided," the king began, "after hearing both sides of the story, that this sheriff you all complain of is as fit for this position as any man. I have worse enemies in England than some merchant class sheriff."

Adam Bell suddenly stood and bent over in an elegant and courtly bow. "My liege," he began, in better-accented Norman French than even Allan could manage, "It has been a long time since we last saw one another. When was it last – I do believe it was in the solar at Windsor Castle?"

The outlaws stared.

King Richard frowned in confusion for a few moments. "Aubert - Aubert des cloches?"

Adam lifted his chin and grinned. "Who else could look so dashing with a scar on his face, Your Majesty?"

King Richard smiled at the mock conceit. "Indeed, Aubert, it is you. But what are you doing in Nottingham? I would have thought my mother had better use for a queen's man than this."

The outlaws stared.

Adam cleared his throat. "Your esteemed mother, the lovely former Queen Eleanor, sent me with two of my comrades into Nottingham to investigate the alleged traitorous acts of its sheriff. I found that he was conspiring with your royal brother, John, to intercept funds for you ransom. I also discovered that a certain band of outlaws was fighting his tyranny, and so I 'became an outlaw' – that is, requested that my fair queen sign a few papers, which accused me of murder and such, to convince the sheriff I was a wanted man from London. In such a way, I was able to gain their trust and aid them in their noble quest to antagonize the traitor, and contribute to your ransom fund."

Every mouth present was hanging slack. Adam Bell, the crazed and bloodthirsty man of rumor, was the queen's man? They all could hardly stand to take their eyes from him. Hadn't there been something to give it away? Some sign of his hidden importance?

Adam, now Aubert, reached into his tunic. "And so, my honored Sovereign," he began, bowing anew, "as much as I trust your impeccable judgment, I must disagree, and sadly, apologize. I admit I withheld this information for the time being. I had foolishly assumed that we had enough evidence to ensure this man's dismissal." He flung some parchment dramatically across the table, and it came to rest at King Richard's place. "Your Majesty knows well that I was never a master at strategy."

The ruler stared down at the paper for a time, and then looked up in astonishment. "Is this all true? Have I actually been so cheated?"

"My revered king, one cannot be perfectly sure, but I estimate the population of Nottingham at mayhap one hundred more than claimed in the sheriff's tax reports. I do not recall how many the paper says."

"This parchment reads that the sheriff claims a population of one hundred and fifteen less than the truth, and keeps the taxes from those 115 houses in his own coffers."

Adam nodded complacently, hands clasped behind his back. "That would meet well with my approximations."

"And from whence did you obtain this, you scapegrace?" King Richard was grinning. "Rob it from some cathedral, I suppose?"

"They do not call me Aubert of the Bells for naught, my liege." He winked. "However, this was given to me by Robin Hood. It was written in the hand of Wilfred of Whitby, whose astute examinations of the sheriff's dealings are the source of these numbers. It seems his suspicions were roused by our lord sheriff's lavish spending."

"And you believe this?"

"Robin Hood believes it, my liege. I am willing to place my faith in anyone who has his." King Richard turned a formidable glower to the lord sheriff of Nottingham. "So if this is true, what have you been doing with the extra revenues?" His scowl had grown even deeper when he thought of all that extra money in the hands of that man, used for nothing but frivolity.

The sheriff was struck nearly dumb by the shock of Adam Bell's true identity, but he still had his wits about him. "I - I, well of course I used it to contribute to your ransom fund, Your Majesty."
Adam laughed mockingly. "If you are going to be an ass, milord sheriff, at least be an honest one."

A/N: You are all some sort of angelic chorus for putting up with that one.

Thanks so stinking much for reading! To paraphrase Emerson - the good reader makes the good story. -