Robin had lost all interest in hunting that morning. The walk back to camp with Marian was silent and tense. All along the way, Robin upbraided himself silently in his thoughts.
What had he done? he wondered. He'd allowed himself to be carried away by love and desire, and had made Marian cry. Dropping all aspects of chivalry, he had regarded Marian's virtue lightly. Still worse, he had forgotten her vulnerability in her state of mourning. He only hoped she would forgive him soon, and stop hurting. From now on, he vowed, he would do nothing but protect and honor her, as he had tried to do when she first came to the forest.
Marian was engrossed in her own thoughts. Yesterday, she had exulted in the way Robin had known how to elicit such intense, delightful responses from her body. Today, she believed herself wiser, and now she was certain he could only have known from previous experience, or experiences. Just as he was an expert marksman with the bow partly from natural ability and partly from extensive practice, she felt him to be expert in what they'd begun doing for the same reasons...natural ability and practice.
How much practice had he taken? She knew that Acre was a cesspool of a port city, with more brothels than places of worship, despite being part of the Holy Land. And after he'd left Acre, what then? No one, she believed, was immune to his charms, though she pretended to scorn them. Even Much, who knew all Robin's tricks, could not resist him, doing whatever he asked once Robin softened his tone and looked at his servant with appealing eyes. Only Guy and the sheriff were immune, she believed, because they hated him.
Try as she might, she could never hate him. She had tried before, and now she did not even want to. She loved him with all her heart and soul. But she would keep her body to herself. He would not have her, as he'd had other women before her. They must have been fools! Marian valued herself too highly to be just another notch on his arrow.
Reaching the camp, Robin and Marian entered to find everyone up and busily preparing for the day. Much was cooking acorn pottage over the fire, and Little John, Djaq, and Will were preparing their weapons.
"Right, lads," Robin said, sounding more composed and confident than he felt, "work to do." His voice softened as he gently said, "Marian, I told you I had a job for you."
She pretended to ignore him, though she was secretly interested in what he planned for her.
Opening a chest partially filled with gold and silver, Robin told her, "I need you to stay here and fill these pouches. Tomorrow," he continued, addressing his gang, "we go to Nottingham to spread a bit of happiness. As for today...who's up for an ambush?"
All the gang were enthusiastic in their approval.
"Right," Robin said, his eyes gleaming. "There are travelers on the Great North Road. I spotted them on my way home."
Marian was speechless. How dare he? Why was she even here? She'd done far more good alone as the Night Watchman than he'd ever permit her to do in his outlaw gang! He did not respect her, so why should she respect his leadership? She still held her bow and wore a quiver of arrows on her back. Fill pouches? No! Racing from the camp, she headed for the Great North Road to waylay the travelers before Robin could stop her.
...
"This better be good, Gisbourne," the sheriff said, strutting down the steps to his dungeons.
"My lord, I think you'll be pleased."
But the sheriff was not. "What is this, Gisbourne? A leper?"
Hannah huddled in a corner of a dungeon cell, chained to a wall, shivering with fear.
"She's a wench from the tavern," Gisbourne explained. "Rumor has it she helped Hood escape."
"Oooh!" Now the sheriff was interested. "Very good, Gisbourne!" Facing the barmaid, he asked, "Did you not know, the penalty for helping Hood is death? Oh, look, Gisbourne, she's frightened. Shall we show compassion, since she's a woman? A clue...no. Tomorrow, she shall swing!"
"Milord," Gisbourne said, "I would like to question her first."
"I take it you'll use toys, Gisbourne, hmm?"
"The branding iron is ready."
"Very good, Gisbourne! Ask away. But don't kill her. She might just draw pretty little Hoodie Hood from his hiding place tomorrow." Addressing Hannah again, he asked, "Isn't that what you're counting on, hmm? Robin Hood heroically swooping down from my battlements, firing an arrow and coming to rescue you? Don't worry. That's exactly what I'm counting on, too!"
Gisbourne objected. "Milord, hang her now. Why risk Hood saving her, and humiliating us again? What about the assassin? Have you given up on that plan?"
"Just when I thought you knew me, Gisbourne...! I'm grieved. A clue...no. I'm still expecting my assassin to arrive, kill Hood, and bring me back my pact! But if we kill Hood before Carter arrives, I won't have to pay him the full 500 pounds!"
"Carter?"
"The name of my assassin! Do I have to spell everything out for you, Gisbourne, hmm? Get on with your questioning. You know how much I enjoy watching you inflict pain."
Gisbourne unlocked Hannah's cell and approached her menacingly with a red hot branding iron. "Tell me, Wench, who else helped Hood?"
Hannah could barely get the words out, she was so frightened. "I don't remember," she answered, her voice a squeak.
"Let me jog your memory," Gisbourne sneered, holding the iron to her face.
"I don't know."
Hannah's screams rang out when Gisbourne seared her cheek. The smell of burning flesh filled the dungeon cell.
"Oh, this is good! This is good! I like this," the sheriff cooed.
"Who else helped Hood?" Gisbourne snarled. "Answer my question, and all this will end."
Hannah remained silent except for her sobs.
Gisbourne held the iron to her other cheek.
"Not so fast, Gisbourne," the sheriff ordered. "Brand her on her ass...ets. She certainly didn't make her living from her face! The other cheeks, I think, Gisbourne, hmm? Her bulbous buttocks."
"Very good, milord." Shoving Hannah over, Gisbourne lifted her skirts and asked again, "Who helped Hood, besides yourself?"
"No one."
Hannah shrieked as the iron burned her.
"Who else?" Gisbourne roared. "What woman?"
"A beauty," she answered at last, sobbing. "A dark haired beauty. I don't remember her name."
Gisbourne's eyes grew wide. Fury tore through his body. Betrayal! The worse sin a man could commit!
"The Saracen," the sheriff said. "We know all about her, don't we, Gisbourne, hmm? Bored now. Come along, Gisbourne. Your performance has, shall we say, stimulated me. Follow me to my quarters. I want to show you my bird."
