"The men are hiding down by the river." These words were uttered in close proximity to Gisburne. The knight, however, did not bother to look around for his companion or to ask him if he was certain. Mainly since he was well aware that this would be of no use, but this was only due to the fact that he was also aware that he could definitely rely on the information that the other man had given him. After all, this man had never been wrong and, moreover, he had never lied to him.
Therefore, the Sheriff's steward ordered his men to advance to the river and then he immediately put himself at their head. He was not one to shirk from a fight, but he was also aware that the risk for him was much lower than for the rest, as he was much better protected than his soldiers. Unless someone shot at him with one of those bloody longbows.
His men did not possess the ability to advance noiselessly, but in this situation it did not matter. The outlaws he was after on this day had maneuvered themselves into a hopeless position when of all places they chose this spot by the river as a hiding place. It was quite possible that they believed no one would suspect them in the immediate vicinity of Nottingham, but in this respect they had been mistaken. Since there was someone who had been able to track them down, their fate now awaited them in the person of Sir Guy of Gisburne with his soldiers.
In the end, the entire matter turned out to be a very simple one, for this scum had nothing to oppose the men from Nottingham. Those of them that survived the fight were taken to the town to end up in the dungeons. They had to wait there for the next court day to be tried and then sentenced. No doubt they would swing thereafter, for their guilt had been sufficiently proven. Too many people had witnessed their misdeeds, so in their case the Sheriff would have no trouble passing a just sentence. Besides, no one would shed a tear for them or come to their rescue. Not even Robin Hood.
Usually, Gisburne would have been pleased with de Rainault's praise; after all, it was rare enough for the latter to express himself in this manner to his steward. Although Gisburne had been very successful in fighting ordinary outlaws over the past four years, the Sheriff was annoyed with him on most days. When it came to dealing with the extraordinary outlaws, he failed on a regular basis and quite dismally at that.
In this case, however, the knight was not able to really enjoy the praise, which was definitely due to the season. You would think that even Gisburne would consider summertime to be pleasant, but on the contrary, at this time he found it difficult to pursue his work in Sherwood. And the closer a certain day approached, the more the knight took to wine, provided his master allowed him the time for that. Since Gisburne was not too picky in this respect, it could also be ale. He would prefer not to have to leave the castle at all during this time, but to his chagrin he had no choice. Of course, he had to carry out his duties, but as hard as that was, he knew that he would not stay away from the forest even if that option was actually open to him, as odd as that must seem. During the last three years he had attempted to do this every summer and had failed each time. For that reason, this year he had resolved to stop resisting being drawn to a certain place, but to take something stronger with him to get drunk. In this manner, he hoped to keep the memories at bay.
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"This isn't a good idea, Robin," John protested once more as his friend and leader prepared to leave the camp.
"I'll be careful, John," the other one tried to allay his friend's concerns. "I don't intend to do more than observe, and I won't get involved in anything else. But I need to know if there is indeed a messenger from the Earl on his way here to the woods. My father wouldn't send me a message unless it was something important. Nor need it be suspicious that the man was cautiously trying to make inquiries. After all, it is not easy to find us in the woods. We wouldn't want this to be easy either, John."
The giant shook his head, for he was still not convinced. "Can't ye wait anoth'r day, Robin?" he entreated the young man with the long blond hair.
"For what reason should I do that?" was the prompt counter-question. "If it really is about something important, as I suspect it is, I don't want to reproach myself later for having waited too long."
"We can't back ye up today," Will interjected all at once. It was not apparent from his facial expression whether he was as displeased about Robin's plans as John was, for he always gave the impression of being at odds with everything.
"I know you do, Will," Robin admitted. "And I'm not asking you to. I understand that you don't have time for anything like that today. Do you think I still don't understand how important this day is for you? I would never ask you not to remember him. But you are also aware that I cannot take part in it. On this day I always prefer to distract myself with something else. That's why the search for the Earl's messenger suits me just fine."
Nasir placed a hand on his young friend's shoulder for a short moment. He, too, had understood that the other man did not see himself as a part of their fellowship on this particular day, but he had also understood as to why that was the case.
"I will be careful. I promise!" his leader answered the Saracen's unspoken request. "Herne will protect me," he then added with confidence. He was convinced he was quite right in this regard. After all, in the last three years he had learned to move in the woods as if he were a ghost. Therefore, he was not afraid of a man to whom this terrain was unfamiliar. Of course, he had considered that this could be a trap, but actually he did not assume that, since such a plan would be much too subtle for Gisburne, whereas the Sheriff would always use someone else for this kind of action, since he would never dream of getting his hands dirty himself, and this approach would also give him a scapegoat in case things did not go as planned. Given that his steward had more than once managed to bring the Sheriff's plans to a less-than-successful outcome, for some time now de Rainault had gotten out of the habit of using him for such schemes. And as far as Robin knew, there was no one else he could use. Therefore, the leader of the outlaws felt quite safe.
Tuck finally reached the conclusion that they would not be able to stop Robin from what he was doing anyway, so he ended this discussion. Before the young man left the camp, however, he handed Albion over to Marion, which had nothing to do with the fact that he was perhaps secretly afraid of walking into a trap. It was simply that he knew very well how important it would be for his friends to have this sword with them on this day, while he would not necessarily need it. Of course, he would not set out unarmed, as Will literally forced his own blade on him. As if he would expect the younger man to refuse to take it.
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"I'm goin' to kill 'im," Will raged. "I'm goin' to kill that damn bastard. I'm not lettin' 'im get away this year. This year it's 'is turn. I'm not goin' to put up with 'im stainin' this place with 'is presence anymore."
"Take it easy, Will," Tuck tried to dissuade his hot-blooded friend from a hasty action, though he was annoyed as well.
"Ye want me to take it easy?" the former soldier retorted, upset. "Ev'ry year on this day, 'e sits there. What's 'e tryin' to do? What's 'e tryin' to prove? 'e wasn't even there."
"Maybe that's why, yes? 'cause he didn't see it then?", Much attempted an explanation, but none of his friends listened to him.
Will had had enough. He did not care what his friends were thinking, he had to do something right now and this ended up in him rushing forward.
"Gisbuuurne," he roared. "I'll kill ye."
The knight who had caused this trouble was sitting on the crest of the hill, a bottle in his hand, while his black stallion was grazing not far from him. When he heard Will's yelling, the man raised his head and looked around, but his movements did not seem very directed, nor did he make a particularly worried impression. Instead of reacting to a suspected attack by leaping to his feet, he raised the bottle to his lips and took a large swig from it. Then he turned his head away once again to gaze instead at the spot where four years ago Robin of Loxley must have perished. None of the outlaws now present, however, had been around back then, but neither had the knight. He had remained in Wickham with the captured outlaws while Marion and Much hid in the woods. But the soldiers who had accompanied the Sheriff on that day had not remained silent for long. This was not surprising, considering that it was not every day that Robin Hood was seen to be killed.
Gisburne had visited this place for the first time the day after Hood's death, although the ride had not been easy for him, since he had been wounded during the liberation of the other outlaws. Nevertheless, he had felt a compulsion to come here, and once here he was also quite sure that he had found the right spot, even if he could not discover any traces in this place. There was no sign of the body that the Sheriff claimed to have left behind. At that time, the knight had assumed that Robin Hood's friends had taken him away to bury him in the forest. He could not know that they too had no clue as to what had happened to their friend. Of course, they had searched the area as well, but they had even less information than Gisburne about the place where Robin had died. Only little by little had they come to know where their friend had made his last stand. Still, every year they gathered there on the anniversary of his death. Only to find Gisburne here as well on each occasion, clearly getting drunk in this place. Of course, the outlaws were convinced that he was celebrating the victory over his enemy in this manner, which was, of course, utterly abhorrent to them. They had avoided calling him to account for it in recent years only by wanting to commemorate Robin in peace. This year, however, Will was no longer willing to let him get away with it.
"That's enough, Gisburne!" the red-haired outlaw bellowed once again while charging towards the knight with his weapon raised. But all of a sudden he stopped, as the other man still did not react to him in the way that was to be expected.
In the meantime, the rest of the outlaws had come close as well and now they were all gathered around the knight, who in turn stared at them out of small, red-rimmed eyes, as if he neither knew who they were, nor what they wanted from him. Then he turned to his bottle once again and took another big swig. In doing so, he gave the impression that he had already forgotten who was surrounding him.
"Why ishn't he here?"
The outlaws cringed, for they had not expected Gisburne to utter anything. And his words surprised them even more than the fact that he could still express himself intelligibly in his state.
"He's dead drunk," John noted in astonishment.
"I can kill 'im even in this state," Will tried to maintain his aggressive temper, but really, he already did not make it sound like he would actually be able to do that anymore.
"Forget it, Will," John replied.
"What are we going to do with him now?" Marion demanded to know, but none of her friends had any answers to her question.
"Why ishn't he here t'day?" Gisburne let himself be heard once more, as if it were not Robin of Loxley's friends who surrounded him. They stared at him again, dumbfounded.
"We're going to do what we came here to do," Marion decided all at once. "And then we'll take him with us. I don't want him to stay here on his own. And you'll do yourself no good if you kill him in this state, Will. We really have no choice but to take him with us.
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The outlaws found it much more difficult to take Gisburne back to their camp than they had thought beforehand. This was not because he was resisting them, but even though he was still able to utter intelligible words, he could not move without assistance. Finally, they got the idea to put him on his horse. They were able to lead it through the woods without any problems, since the black stallion caused them - surprisingly - no difficulties at all. It almost seemed to them as if it sensed that its rider could no longer manage on his own.
When they finally managed to arrive at the camp with their prisoner, there was of course no question that he would not be tied to a tree. But in contrast to the previous occasions, when this had always served to prevent him from attacking any of them or from escaping, this time they made sure that he could remain sitting upright. Otherwise, this would have been quite difficult for him, since in the meantime the booze, which he had obviously consumed, had taken full effect.
Even Will refrained from further attacking the knight, not even with words, for he had understood by now that none of his remarks were getting through to the man. Gisburne was so drunk that he now had completely passed out. None of the outlaws had ever seen him in such a state, nor could they explain why he had gotten so drunk on this day and in this very place. It did not fit at all into the image they had of him.
But before evening fell, Gisburne started to talk once again. First the outlaws paid no attention to him, until they realized that he was asking the same question over and over again. The same one he had asked on the hill. "Why ishn't he here t'day?"
It was immediately obvious to the group that he was talking about Robin of Loxley, though they did not understand now any more than they had understood earlier why he was asking this question in the first place.
At some point it got to be too much for Will and he could no longer hold back: "'e's dead, Gisburne. 'e's not 'ere, 'e's dead. Ye killed 'im four years ago. 'e'll never be 'ere again."
The knight just stared at him blankly and then shook his head with vehemence. "He's not dead. He's just not here t'day. Why ish he not here t'day?"
"Why don't 'e shut up?" muttered Will. "I can't listen to this anymore. 'e acts like 'e's lost a friend."
"He's not dead!" the knight repeated forcefully.
Tuck shook his head. "Why is he even able to utter anything? If you had consumed that much, Will, you wouldn't be able to utter anything intelligible."
"He can't do that anyway," John declared, making his friends laugh at this statement. Except Will, of course, who glared angrily at him.
"Gisburne," Marion spoke up at this point. "Robin is dead." She just could not stand to hear the knight's question any longer.
Gisburne shook his head once again. "He's Herne's Son, he can't die."
Marion stared at him, stunned. She could not remember Gisburne ever seriously addressing Robin's status as Herne's Son. And now he was talking about how that was the reason Robin could not be dead. "What has he been drinking?"
"I don't know," Will admitted. "Is there anythin' left in the bottle?"
John tossed him the vessel, whereupon the red-haired outlaw unscrewed the cap and sniffed at the opening. Right then and there, he had a coughing fit. "I wouldn't even touch this stuff if I didn't have ale or mead. Where did 'e get it?"
"I'd much rather know when he's gonna die from it!" John now added, having also sniffed at the opening, only to immediately shudder afterwards.
"Those aren't the right questions," Tuck corrected his friends. "We should be asking why we can still understand what he's saying?"
"It's all bullshit," Will enthused. "Why are we listenin' to 'im?"
"'cause Robin died?", Much replied to him, although Will did not actually give the impression that he expected or wanted an answer to his question.
"We shouldn't listen to 'im today," Will tried to convince the rest of the group of his point of view.
But apart from his friends, the knight had obviously listened to him as well. "I'm not talking to you either, Wolfshead. I'm talking to him. Why ish he not here t'day of all days? I need him. Why did he abandon me t'day?" No sooner had he uttered these words than he closed his eyes completely exhausted and fell asleep on the spot.