N/A: Soooo, hehe. I obviously didn't make my deadline, and the posting of this chapter was even more delayed because my lack of internet in my new home… I hope I've made up for it with the length of this instalment. So, please don't be mad and enjoy the show. .;
Yet again, a huge thanks to the reviewers, you rock!
Chapter fourteen: News both unexpected and unwelcome
Following that particular conversation with Robin, Wulf had taken to observing her interaction with Will more closely. It was strange to see that, though they were both always busy with numerous small tasks, they bumped into each other at least twice an hour. The longer Wulf watched he could see that neither seemed to do it on purpose, nor were any pleasant words exchanged between them. Apparently, they had settled for snide jokes and sarcastic comments that sometimes were really hurtful. Only the strangest thing was that neither Robin nor Will was taking them seriously.
As winter progressed – and Wulf kept watching – he never caught them doing anything inappropriate, which didn't keep him from being insanely jealous. Not that he would ever admit to it, of course. It wasn't that he was in love with Robin or anything, just that she clearly shared a private type of humour with Will, and it somehow stung him that she couldn't do that with him. He had found in Robin his best friend ever: he trusted her enough to feel safe to tell her anything, both intellectual and less intellectual things. She didn't laugh at him and valued his words. They also had tons of fun together.
But clearly, it wasn't enough for her. Wulf knew he was being unfair; that he couldn't forbid her to talk to Will, but God knew he felt the urge often enough. He just couldn't understand her when she said those things, like there was something there that he couldn't grasp, like there was a different side to Robin that he'd never seen before. And that scared him. He'd come to think that he knew Robin as well as he knew himself, but now it was pointed out that he didn't. Robin didn't freely volunteer information about herself – however trivial it may be – and Wulf had thought he'd gotten all there was to get. It hurt to see that he was wrong.
A small sun was doing its best to warm the snow-covered ground of the Forest. What it lacked in strength it made up for in enthusiasm, and though it didn't succeed in its effort, it did cause a general uplifting of spirits. The sky was blue; the sun was shining and despite the fact that it was still as cold as ever, the winter didn't seem so harsh anymore.
It certainly was a change from January, which had been mostly dark and depressing. That month had really hacked into their supply of firewood, and now the weather was improving no time was wasted to replenish the stock. Due to the strict rationing of the food, there was no problem in that area. But the rations hadn't been very large, so such a good day for hunting was also taken with both hands. In short, the sun could be very proud of its accomplishment; the village was once more bustling with outdoor activity.
Since most mothers had been cooped up inside with their bored children for a month, they didn't hesitate to grasp the opportunity for an excursion into the Forest – even if it was to collect firewood. There was of course the small dilemma of what to do with their children, but this was soon solved when Robin walked in their line of sight.
With nothing else to do during the bad weather, she had worked diligently on the rebels' attack and defence strategies. Those were now more or less perfected, leaving Robin with nothing particularly pressing to do.
The plotting mothers seized their chance and before Robin could say a word, she was left watching over at least five or six small children ranging from a baby to an eight-year-old. When it came to small children, Robin hadn't dealt with those since she'd been one herself, and even then only in moderation. She didn't have a clue how she was supposed divide her attention between all of them. The mothers had decided to take full advantage of their situation, and would clearly stay away all morning. They counted on their children's fascination with the female leader to keep them from running off. Luckily for Robin, their assumption was right, but that did mean the infants would nag at her the entire morning.
She was just trying to listen interestedly at little Beth's story about the time she'd found a "twin-acorn", when Will walked onto the scene. At first he looked confused, but soon smirked evilly when he thought of the perfect taunting opportunity this situation presented. He casually walked over, already anticipating a fantastic verbal sparring. He had stopped himself from thinking altogether about the unfamiliar reactions the girl evoked in him, and had decided that as long as it didn't cause immediate harm to his person, he might as well enjoy it.
'Well, well. You didn't strike me as the motherly type at all, Locksley. Guess I was wrong.' He knew how much she hated being called that, which was his only reason for doing so in the first place.
Robin groaned. Not him… Please, not right now. She sighed; realising there was no turning away the inevitable and raised her eyes to meet those of her tormenter. Don't exaggerate; you seek these fights just as much as he does. There was no escaping her inner voice, and she inwardly hung her head in consent. Yes, but not right now. Can't he just let one slide for once? But she already knew the answer: never. Accepting defeat when it smiled her in the face, she decided to go with it as best she could. She'd get back to him for this eventually.
'Yes, well you're wrong about a great many things, so no surprise there, right? So unless you came here to take at least three of these urchins of my hands, please save you're witticisms for another time.'
Will merely chuckled, not in the slightest about to honour her request. Instead he stayed exactly where he was, inspecting his nails nonchalantly.
'Nah, I don't think I will. This is a once in a lifetime occasion.'
'Oh yeah? How so?' Robin answered, preoccupied with grabbing a small hand before it poked her in the nose.
'Oh, I don't know. Just that I don't think you do this type of feminine activity very often.' Will glanced away from his fingers, wanting to catch the reaction his words would elicit.
Robin controlled her rising irritation, and said coldly: 'So now I'm not feminine? What's next, the accusation that I'm a man after all?'
Will merely snorted. 'Of course not. Not even Notch could make that mistake, and he has the intelligence of the average potato. I just meant that you rarely do any of the things other women do.'
Robin felt strangely insulted. She was feminine enough! While prying her hair loose from the hand of some toddler whose name she'd forgotten, she protested:
'I am feminine! Just because I don't wear dresses, knit, sew or know how to cook doesn't make me some kind of "man-woman". I do plenty of womanly things.' She sulked a bit, trying for all she was worth to find some evidence of her statement.
'Like what?' Will chuckled, knowing he'd struck a sore spot. 'All I've ever heard you do was sing an old lullaby.'
Mortified silence hung between them for a while at his words; for Robin because no one had been supposed to hear that, for Will because he might as well have said he'd been spying on her. He didn't know where to look, and felt his cheeks flush. How on earth could he have been so stupid! This was exactly one of those things no one should know about. Oh boy, he'd fouled up royally this time…
'How did you know that?' Robin finally asked him with a tiny voice. He could barely hear her over the children's noise; they were still completely oblivious to the mood-change that had occurred.
Will frantically searched his mind for a plausible reason, and when he couldn't find one, he merely said:
'So… you don't know how to cook?' He closed his eyes, wishing Robin would fall for the distraction, to no avail.
'Don't change the subject,' she said, a little firmer this time, 'When did you hear me sing that song? I only did it a few times when I was in my house.'
Will remained silent, feeling the conversation slipping through his fingers. When glanced up to Robin's face, she held his gaze and demanded:
'Tell me.'
For some reason, Will couldn't refuse and hesitatingly began to explain.
'It was in December. I was walking back to the clearing when I heard the song come through your window.'
Robin was struck by how Will had completely lost his normal attitude and arrogance, but at the moment she had bigger fish to fry.
'Am I supposed to just believe that? How do I know you don't just sneak up to my house and spy on me while I take a bath!' She fought to keep her voice low.
After a while, Will shrugged helplessly. 'I guess you can't,' he looked her in the eye again, 'you're just going to have to trust me on this.'
Robin managed to keep herself from laughing. It wasn't that funny anyway. 'But I don't have that much reason to, do I?'
Will sighed and sat down facing Robin. 'No, you don't. And that's entirely my fault. But there is one thing you should know: I have as much reason to fight against the Sheriff as you, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I don't think we could continue this without you. And because of that, I would never intentionally hurt you,' he dragged his hand through his hair, feeling distinctly uncomfortable now but ploughing on anyway, 'I've even come to respect you in some odd way. Don't ask me when that happened, because I sure don't have a clue.'
When he saw Robin wanted to say something, he added:
'Still doesn't mean I like you, though,' he felt a change of subject was in order, and continued: 'So what's with the cooking? You still haven't answered my question about that.'
He managed to produce a cocky grin that was still only half of what he was normally capable of.
Robin decided to drop the subject, knowing from experience that this confession had taken Will a great deal of effort. He had trusted her with his pride; supplying her with the only way she could believe he had been telling the truth about how he had heard the lullaby. And for that she appreciated his disguised peace-offering even more; because that's what it actually was, a clever way to bury the hatchet. She decided to allow Will his dignity and merely answered:
'Just like I said: I don't know how to.'
Grateful that she was playing along, Will reverted back to his old self in no time.
'You really don't? What is the world coming to if a woman can't even set food on the table anymore? How will you ever find a man?'
He looked at her mockingly. Robin narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the child that was once again pulling on her hair.
'For your information, I was never meant to learn that. We had servants to do that for us. So that would never have posed a problem for me finding a husband,' Robin raised her chin defiantly, 'Not that I'm looking for one, anyway.'
Will chuckled. 'Not right now, you're not, but what about in a few years? And I doubt you'll find one in the high society you're talking about, because I don't think they'll be to pleased to have a wife who is considered an outlaw, has a prize on her head, and has lived in the Forest for a week with nothing but men!'
Robin protested blushingly. 'Oi! Nothing happened in that week, and it still isn't. I'm not that stupid. And I don't expect I'll be an outlaw long when King Richard returns.'
'Aha! So you do admit you're at least a bit stupid. I knew it all along,' Robin rolled her eyes at this, but Will paid her no heed, 'But seriously, you still think the Lionheart is going to return? Don't you think that's a bit naïve? He's been gone for over six years. My guess is the Saracens killed him, him and his entire bloody army. Waste of precious money, if you ask me.'
Robin remained quiet for a while, then raised her eyes to meet Will's.
'It may be naïve… but I can't stop believing he'll return. Because if he doesn't, neither will my father or brother.'
In that moment, Will caught a glimpse of the magnitude of Robin's worry for her family. He suddenly felt horrible for talking so coldly about the crusade. They remained silent for a while, until Will trusted himself enough again to speak.
'You must miss them a lot.'
Robin smiled sadly. 'Yes. They say it gets easier with time, but it doesn't.'
Will didn't know what to say to that, since he had never had to experience the same thing. He merely continued sitting there, even taking an exceedingly annoying toddler from his companion's hands. It wasn't long before the mothers came back. They each carried such large bundles of wood that Robin couldn't possibly be annoyed with them for their extended absence. The women did look oddly at her and Will sitting so calmly side by side, but refrained from commenting in fear of Will's sharp tongue. They were content to take their children inside and start gossiping as soon as they were out of earshot.
Robin and Will parted without a word. Especially Robin was too drained from the emotional rollercoaster that the morning had been, to engage in anymore colourful insults. She somehow always ended up having deep, unsettling conversations with that particular man, which turned her views of him completely upside down every time. She shook her head one last time, and went to find something different from the offspring of others to busy herself with that afternoon.
The people in Sherwood Forest weren't the only ones whose activity pattern had been drastically altered by the heavy snowfall. George of Nottingham, the Sheriff, was also forced to keep his soldiers inside the city. But he wasn't complaining. Having decided to put his active search for the Forest community on hold, he busied himself instead with profusely flattering the barons. As he had been unable to pay their bribes ever since that blasted Robin Hood had started raiding his convoys, he was reduced to grovelling and simpering to keep their favour. The remainder of his time he devoted to revising and improving his plans and strategies, which were always sure to put him in a better mood. He was doing just that when a knock was heard on his door.
'Enter!' He called, disinterestedly.
The intruder turned out to be Guy, which was the case at least 80 of the time. George put down his elaborate quill and invited the other to come closer.
'What is it, my cousin? Any interesting news?' He smiled, in a good mood for once.
Guy shifted a bit nervously before answering. 'Well, you could certainly call it… interesting. Pleasant would be another thing entirely.'
George merely raised his eyebrow and waited for his younger cousin to continue.
'I've finally received word from my agent in France. He is the last of a chain of informants I have that stretches as far as the holy land. They communicate by means of – '
'Yes, yes, get on with it. I don't care a whit about that. Just tell me what he said.'
Guy decided to ignore the interruption. '– homing pigeons. His message to us was delayed because of the bad weather over the canal, which caused the animal to be blown off course.'
Here, Guy inserted a pause, ignoring how impatient the other was.
'The note says that though his army has been broken…the Lionheart is on his way home.'
George was struck dumb. Not in his wildest dreams – or should he say nightmares – had he expected this kind of news. Someone up there really didn't like him.
Encouraged by this response, or lack thereof, Guy continued.
'It also says that the damage has been contained. All other messages sent to any of the barons have been intercepted, so no one on the islands knows about this but us. When this message was sent, Richard was still in the East, waiting for a ship to be ready to take him back to the continent.'
George finally gathered his wits and proceeded to properly explode.
'Oh yes, just what I needed! That bloody fool coming back when I'm only halfway with my plan! Why couldn't those blasted Saracens do their job and finish that crazy bastard off! He practically asked for that, for pity's sake!' He had by now shredded his expensive-looking quill completely and stood up to start pacing his study. Guy had silently retreated to stand closer to the door. George was presently tugging at his hair.
'What in the seven Hells have I done to deserve this! What the Devil am I supposed to do now! He'll have me hanged for sure…' Following this came a string of muttered curses, and George seemed to calm down, if only a little. He suddenly stopped pacing and faced Guy again, though his eyes were unseeing.
'No… I won't let that happen. Taking in account the season and the Lionheart's luck….. Yes, it's still possible….If I just….'
At this point, Guy decided to leave his more than slightly deranged cousin to his devices, and made a hasty retreat to the kitchen. When he had received the bad news it had been close to lunchtime, but upon reading the message his appetite had left him entirely. As the terrifying confrontation was now over with, it now returned in full force. He pushed the Lionheart to the back of his mind, and forced himself to leave it all to George.
A small part of him, however, hoped that King Richard would be on time to prevent too much of a disaster. His situation did not seem so hopeless now. In this small part of his mind the cogs started working, considering the pros and cons of defecting and redeeming himself, and somehow making sure that George was executed before he had the chance of exposing Guy's shady past.
For now this part remained dormant, but the seed was planted, and would certainly not die before fully blossoming.
After Guy had left, George's mind continued to work full speed on this new problem. He decided to force a breakthrough in the stalemate he had gotten himself into with Robin Hood, however dangerous it may be. He reasoned that if he didn't do it, the outcome would be highly unfavourable anyway. Making up his mind, he went back to his desk and absently felt for his quill. When he noticed the thing was only fit for the hearth, he grumbled a bit and searched for another one in his drawer. While he was sharpening its tip with vicious movements of his pocket knife, the last of his aggression was drained away. This allowed him to focus calmly and calculatingly on the task at hand.
He had decided to finally make use of the information Guy and his henchmen had been steadily gathering for him for a few months now. In addition, he scheduled a meeting with his…caretaker… from when he was a child. She had certain capabilities that could prove to be quite useful. He smirked at the thought of other people's superstitions. She wasn't a witch persé… Another thought struck him, and his smile turned truly malicious. He would use that same superstition against the Locksley wench, to his own benefit. Talk about irony. Completing his newest plan of action that, conveniently enough, could mostly be executed while it was still winter, George felt satisfied with how he had dealt with this unpleasant turn of events.
For now, he leaned back in his chair; tomorrow he would put his new plans into effect. He glanced at the clock. He wondered if it was too late to summon the little minx that was the new kitchen maid to his rooms. Or better yet, if she should bring a friend… His lip curled at the thought and making his decision, he rang for his personal servant.
N/A: I myself think the dynamics between Robin, Will and Wulf are pretty realistic. If you've got some suggestions about this or that aspect of it, don't hesitate to make them known.
Sooo, whatcha think of this last bit of news the Sheriff got? This certainly speeds things up a bit, as he's forced to take some more desperate measures. Guy will also start to play a bigger part sometime soon, but probably not yet next chapter. What will he do; remain faithful or betray the betrayer? That's for me to know and for you to find out, muhaha…
P.S. It's very late at the moment and I don't have the energy to thoroughly spell-check this. So forgive me for any toe-curling errors.
Toodles!
