N/A: I apologize for my atrocious updating behaviour. I have no plausible excuse whatsoever, other than the fact that I just couldn't make myself write.

Since replies to readers aren't allowed anymore, I'll just say an enormous thank you to the people who have been patient.

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Chapter fifteen: Taking action

The catacombs below Nottingham Castle were everything they should be: dark, dank and scary. But this particular one was even more so, because of the person that lived in it. Small animals slithered and crawled around, unseen in the dark; wisps of chilling fog swirled over ominous-looking pools of water on the stone floor; a foul stench was permanently in the air because of the repulsive concoctions that were continuously brewed in a large cauldron.

But the rare visitor paid these things no heed, and advanced purposefully to where a hunched figure stood over the fuming cauldron.

'Ah, Mortianna, my dear. How are you today?' The visitor, being George of Nottingham, asked in a silken voice.

'Stop that useless drivel this instant, it doesn't suit you. What do you need?' The figure's voice was brittle and screechy, and when they turned around a very old hag was revealed. She had very long, thin white hair, through which her skull was visible. Her face was small and scrunched up, except for a beaklike nose. One of her eyes was milky white with blindness, and the rare teeth in her mouth were black. Being used to her appearance, the Sheriff didn't flinch.

Forgoing any more pretence, George got to the point. 'I am in need of some of your foresight. I would like to get some indications as to my next course of action.'

The witch didn't reply, and merely limped back into the shadows to fetch the things she would need for this type of assistance. She finally re-emerged carrying a large, battered gold plate, and a velvet pouch. She placed the plate on a small stone altar, and then plunged her now free hand in the numerous pockets in her robe.

'What is your question?' She asked, while still rummaging in her clothing.

George was silent for a while, considering how exactly to phrase his request.

'Am I…thwarted? Or is there still a way to turn things around before the Lionheart's return?'

The witch didn't answer. She finally extracted her hand from a hidden pocket, holding an abnormally large egg. Holding it over the plate, she plunged her long thumbnail in it, cracking the shell. She then tipped it over, and a deep crimson liquid poured out onto the gold. It looked to be thick, almost viscous blood.

George swallowed thickly; he had seen a lot in his time living with this woman, but this was just disgusting. He didn't even want to think about what kind of animal that egg belonged to. But he couldn't tear his eyes away. He had to see what she would do next. It had always been this way; no matter how repulsive things were, he had to look, to examine, to marvel at the darkness and cruelty of it all.

Satisfied with the way the blood had spread over the plate, the hag spit into it and proceeded to drag her fingernail through it, making a toe-curling screeching noise. She examined the result for a few seconds, and then finally opened the velvet pouch. She turned it over above the plate, not caring if any of the rune stones – because that was what the contents were – bounced of and skidded to the floor. She then hunched over the plate and examined it in silence.

George peered curiously over her shoulder, but for the life of him couldn't figure out what the strange display of smeared blood and saliva and scattered stones meant. His attention snapped back to the old woman when she began to nod.

'You plan…deception?' She glanced sideways at him, seeking confirmation.

George gestured vaguely, and the hag returned to her reading.

'Hmm… You must use the foolishness of youth', she suddenly looked up at him and continued sharply, 'use the plan you have. Soon.'

'But will it be enough?' George sceptically raised his eyebrow.

The witch looked down again. 'It will be… for now. When the weather changes… seek a powerful force to help you.'

'With what! The wench has emptied my treasury! I cannot afford to raise an army.'

Undisturbed by his sudden anger, Mortianna eyed him shrewdly.

'From the north', she added to her previous statement.

George calmed down some, and his mind made the necessary connections. 'You mean Celts', he answered distastefully, 'they drink the blood of their dead.'

'It is your only chance. You must act before the painted man reaches our shores.' She shuddered for the first time. 'If the painted man arrives before you succeed, he will cause our death. Both yours and mine.'

The Sheriff didn't like the sound of that. It was another threat to take into account. He assumed this mysterious 'painted man' would arrive with Richard, whose arrival was bad news anyway. At least he now had an inkling of what he was supposed to do after the winter. If only these readings weren't so bloody vague; it would be a hell of a lot easier.

'How long before King Richard arrives, and this painted man?'

The hag bent over the rune stones once more. 'I cannot tell, but not before the snow has melted.'

George resisted the urge to snort. Well that was helpful. What did I say about vague again? He sighed, resigning to the uncertainty. It was another incentive to act fast.

'I thank you, Mortianna. Your assistance has granted me a new perspective. You shall be rewarded accordingly.'

Without waiting for a reply, George made his way back to the exit. He felt that a distinct chill had settled in his bones, and he was determined to find some wench to get rid of it with.

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He had seen the manor appearing in the distance often enough now for it to be familiar to him. Guy squinted in the harsh sunlight being reflected by the snow covering the land. Ever since George had issued his order to find out everything there was to know about Locksley, either Guy or one of his henchmen had regularly made the trip to the dreary-looking Locksley manor. He could have just told his men to take care of it, but he wasn't his cousin's spy-master for nothing; there was a form of subtlety none of his less educated staff had managed to grasp as of yet. He had also taken the liberty of going a little farther than the Sheriff's order, anticipating what would be requested later on. After getting to know everything about – among others – Duncan, he had decided to already try and influence the superstitious and, more importantly, greedy stable boy. He had fed him unsettling rumours about the supposed intentions of his former mistress, along with a steady supply of pocket money from the Sheriff, and had made his loyalty shift in their favour. When George finally gave him the much expected assignment, Guy couldn't help but feel smug. He certainly wasn't spymaster for nothing!

Having reached the outer wall of the manor, Guy slowed his horse and dismounted. It wouldn't do to alert the servant girl, Sarah, of his presence. He had seen from the beginning that her character was unfit for their scheme; she was much too honest and fiercely loyal to her mistress. She was simply too pure to be able to lie and deceive.

After tying his horse to a nearby tree, Guy sat down on a boulder conveniently located behind some concealing brush. This was their usual meeting place, and he waited patiently for Duncan.

It didn't take long for Duncan to arrive, since he was quite eager to receive another gold-filled purse. The boy looked just as thin and gangly as he always had, with a pointed, mousy face and dirty-blonde hair. He looked around rather skittishly, and the carefully approached the brush. He seemed relieved that Guy was already there. Without waiting for Guy to speak, he launched into an explanation himself.

'Look, I can't talk long today; Sarah's been houndin' me since this mornin'. Did ye bring me money?'

Guy realised with distaste that he had allowed the boy to forget his place. As his stature demanded of him, he grabbed Duncan's shirt in a forceful grip, and yanked him down to meet his gaze directly.

'I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that, because I would be forced to run you through. As for the money, I'm still willing to give it to you, on one condition.'

With satisfaction, Guy could see the boy's eyes widen in greed. He had him for sure; hook, line and sinker.

'Anythin', what do ye want me te do?' He was oblivious to Guy's evil smirk.

Guy beckoned him closer. He might not agree with his cousin's ambitions, but he just loved to scheme and manipulate. He laid an arm around Duncan's shoulder, and said:

'Here's what I want you to do…'

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The two sentries were both shivering. They had been sent out on look-out duty for the day, to check the borders of the Forest. It was something that had to be done for their own safety, but that didn't mean they had to like it.

'How long until we can go back, Notch? I'm freezin' me nuts off here.'

Notch only glowered at his companion. 'Ye've been askin' that same question since before we were even halfway from the village. I don't like it anymore than you do.'

Regardless, he looked up to the sky, trying to asses the time from what little he saw of it.

'We've got to stay 'ere at least until dusk sets in. By the time we'll be back home it'll be about the right time. Look on the bright side, at least we'll 've had our turn already, Bull.'

Bull nodded grumpily, and huddled even deeper into his cloak. What was even worse than simple sentry-duty was if nothing at all happened while you were doing it.

Both quietly musing to themselves after that, they nearly missed the telltale snapping of branches and crunching of feet in the snow of a visitor entering their territory. Bull was the first to become aware of it, and gave his friend a hard nudge in the side. Silencing any protest from Notch, he merely indicated his chin in the direction of the sounds. Comprehension dawned on Notch's wide face, and he stood up, motioning for Bull to join him. Silently, they both strung their bows, and approached the noise.

The intruder was too preoccupied with the branches continuously slapping him in the face to notice the two sentries finally appearing right in front of him. It wasn't until he roughly collided with Bull, that he recoiled in surprise. Notch didn't wait for the smaller person to make a sound, before his booming voice filled the area.

'Who're you, and what are ye doin' in our Forest?'

The boy – for it was a boy – swallowed the big lump in his throat and cleared it.

'My name is Duncan. I'm lookin' for Robin of Locksley.'

The two men conversed in hushed voices, every minute or so glancing over to where Duncan stood. On the outside the boy just looked cold, but that was not the only thing that was causing the tension in his body. The entire success of his mission depended on whether or not they would take him to the village. This was his only chance, for if he tried it again when there were other men stationed here, the word would've assuredly already been spread. He couldn't bear to imagine what would happen if he'd fail. He would have o face Guy of Gisbourne again, and the man would not be pleased. Duncan gulped again. Damn the temptation that was gold! He would be lucky if he walked away with his life…

The two seemed to have reached an understanding, and came back over to the boy. He looked up from his private 'angsting', and watched them expectantly.

'Look, this is what we're goin' te do: we'd like te believe ye, so we'll take ye te Robin. But we're goin' te have te blindfold ye; it's the rules', Notch explained.

'It's standarded procedure', Bull supplied, and at a glare from Notch, trailed off: 'or summit like tha'.'

Duncan looked a little put out at that: now he still wouldn't be able to exactly localize the village. Well, he surmised, I'm just goin' te have te win her trust, and she'll let me go around without that blasted blindfold. As it was however, he realised it was the only way to get in. So he shrugged his consent to Notch, and allowed the man to put a scarf over his eyes.

The peculiar group arrived back at the village much later than expected, due to the delay caused by the fact that one of them couldn't see at all. By the time they stepped into the main clearing, many of their fellow citizens had already gone to bed. Supper was long over. They were met promptly by Robin and John, who had undoubtedly been informed by a look-out.

'Finally!' Robin exclaimed, 'I was becoming rather worried.' She then looked at the third companion.

'Who did you bring? Wait a minute… is that … Duncan?'

In a sudden flurry of movement, Robin tore the blindfold from the boy's face, and instantly recognized it; even though it had been a while.

'It is you! What are you doing here? Is everything alright with Sarah? And-'

'Calm down, Robin. No matter how fast ye talk, the lad can still only answer one question at a time.' John admonished gently, putting a restraining hand on Robin's shoulder.

The girl blushed, and realised she was not displaying very mature leader-like behaviour. She calmed her breathing, and said:

'Sorry about that. You all must be positively freezing! Come to the fire, and I'll ask Wat if there are any leftovers from supper. I'm sure we can fix something for you three.' She then turned and swiftly strode over to the cook's tent, leaving John to deal with the new arrivals.

Quite soon after, she had Wat bustling about once more, putting together a hearty meal for the three men. While she was waiting to take it back to the small assembly at the fireplace, a figure approached her.

'So who's the skinny little imp?' A sarcastic voice asked from behind Robin.

Without turning around, she knew exactly who it was.

'Hello to you too, Will. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?' ignoring his response to the obvious annoyance in her voice, she continued, 'As for your question; he's the stable boy at Locksley Manor.'

When she didn't elaborate, Will raised an eyebrow.

'I see. For months he's never made the effort to come and see you. So why is he here now?' He sounded sceptical.

This time Robin did turn around, and looked straight up into his dark eyes. 'That's what I'm going to find out right now.' And with that, she pushed by him while balancing various large plates of food. Will turned around to look after her, annoyed that he had once more failed to get the last word. His gut feeling told him not to trust the new boy, and he decided to watch him very closely.

'This is all that's left, but it should be enough.' True to Robin's statement, the two men and the boy dug into the food immediately. Knowing men, she waited until every last scrap had disappeared before speaking.

'So, now you're first needs have been taken care of; why have you come to see me?' She was curious, desperate for any news of her old home and its inhabitants.

Duncan's head snapped up, unprepared for the sudden question. He remained quiet for a while, struggling to recall the story he and Guy had fabricated.

'Er, Sarah was worried about ye, Milady. And we were runnin' out of money. So I thought: maybe I could bring messages between you and Sarah, and keep you up to date about the goings-on at the Manor?' He tried to look as sincere as possible, hoping with all his heart she would buy it. He really didn't want to be on this woman's bad side, after what Guy had told him.

Robin was nodding slowly. She could understand Sarah being worried; she hadn't spoken to the older woman since that one time in the Nottingham church. The money issue was also plausible, as she'd last seen the chest of money in her father's chambers with barely enough in it to cover the bottom. As for the offer of being a messenger… she would have to consider that very carefully with John and Wulf. It could prove to be either a valuable asset, or a dangerous liability. Having sorted out her thoughts, she spoke.

'First of all, don't call me Milady. Call me Robin, everyone is equal here. I'll think about what we can do about the money, because I don't really fancy you and Sarah starving. But I'll have to talk with my friends about your being a messenger', she shared a look with John, who was also still present, and added, 'until we've reached a decision you can stay here. But you're going to have to help out. We have a few horses, so you could help out James. I'll introduce you to him in the morning.'

Duncan nodded, masking his disappointed over the fact that he would still have to work while staying here.

'Right', Robin said, standing up and brushing off her trousers, 'I think it's time for bed for all of us. Duncan, you can stay in the spare hut we have for guests, over there.' She pointed to a small hut, located near the communal roofed area. As the boy walked past her to the hut and the others were moving away to their own houses, she suddenly grabbed the boy in a fierce hug. Duncan tensed up, startled.

'It's so good to see someone from home again!' Robin whispered urgently in his ear. Just as fast as she had taken hold of him, she let go. Without another word, she went to her tree house. Duncan watched her for a moment, stunned at her behaviour, which was so unlike anything Guy had warned him about. But maybe this was just her mask. He'd wait with considering her harmless until he'd seen her in a rage.

Still standing where she'd left him, Duncan was approached by a tall man. He looked at the other warily, waiting to be spoken to. It wasn't until the taller man was looming over him that he was addressed.

'Listen, boy, I don't know what you're playing at, but something's not quite right about you. You better not mean any harm to Robin or anyone else, or I'll harm you, got that? I'll be watching you.'

Then Will, for that was who it was, moved away, leaving a very shaken-up Duncan behind. He was quite satisfied with the effect he had on the little sod. While walking back to his house, he frowned. Robin was much too trusting; just look at the way she had failed to keep her distance from the boy after only an hour in his presence. He shook his head now, he'd have to look out for her, make sure the blasted boy didn't get her into trouble.

Entering his house and falling down onto his bed, he forcefully drove any further thoughts of the situation from his mind. For now, he preferred to ignore the exact reason why he felt he had to watch Locksley's back. He wasn't sure anyhow.

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N/A: So chapter fifteen is finally here! Doesn't it make an appropriate Christmas present? I hope it was enough to satisfy your curiosity, though really not much action takes place. But a chapter like this was once again needed.

I think we'll have a time-jump forward to spring soon, so we can get started on the action! Well, I'm off for the holidays, I'm going snowboarding!

Happy 2006 everyone!