Let You Down
The sun was just barely breaking though the thick layer of tree leaves, signaling a new day. To many people daylight brought a new set of worries, fears, and troubles. Their problems included affording food for their families, their children's hungry tummies, harvesting the fields they worked, and paying their taxes. However, not all faced these problems. A particular group of people, hid quietly away in the deep green wood, was confronted with a different dilemma. Their leader, Robin, was in dire straights and even more danger was closing in...
This was the third day that Marian had been gone - taken by Lord Winchester in order to fulfill the Sheriff's scheme. It was only moments after Marian had been stolen that Robin had raced after her - he wasn't about to let her down. Without thinking on the consequences, he galloped off on his horse - no reinforcements, no plan.
Much was hurt that his Master had not waited for him, even when he had tried so hard to get ready to accompany him. He swallowed his hurt feelings and decided to follow his master, praying that he would eventually catch up with them. He rode out of camp, deciding on a quick pace in hopes of reaching them sooner.
Figuring that Robin would have already rescued his ladylove, Much muttered to himself the entire hour that he rode. He complained that Robin didn't care about him now that he had Marian, that he would be left out in the cold when they were pardoned by King Richard, and that Robin and Marian would sit warm and full by Locksley fire while he stared longingly and lonely through the window on a cold winter's eve.
It was only when Much saw his Master's horse, off grazing by itself, that he began to panic - taking back everything that he had previously said and swearing to the Lord above that he wouldn't speak again if only Robin were alright... Seizing the reigns of the unattended animal, he began a desperate search for his Master.
The hunt took Much over knolls, hills, and tors - then he found him. Lying in a heap, slightly curled inwards, was Robin; Much couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Leaping off his own mount and running as fast as he could, Much knelt down by his side. There was dried blood on the side of Robin's head and he could feel the stiff knot that was embedded there. Much saw the culprit, a large rock exposed on the tor. He cursed loudly and then, surprised at himself, checked Robin's pulse. Yes, he was still breathing. "Master?" Much gave him a little nudge - no response. "Master?" his voice was just above a whisper and he gently pulled up Robin's eyelid. The eye underneath jerked involuntarily and Much let it snap shut as he jumped backwards. Getting braver, he took hold of the lid again and repeated his question; this action obtained a moan from the wounded man. Much heaved a sigh of relief and tried to rouse his master again.
Much felt a sick feeling in his stomach that he had let his Master and friend down; he wasn't there when he needed him. If only he had been quicker to follow him! Robin would not be wounded, they would have saved Marian, and all would be well!
Once he had both horses near the fallen man, Much took on the difficult job of hoisting Robin up and over the saddle. Though Robin was almost dropped on several occasions, he did not know and was blissfully oblivious to his friend's struggles and of the dubious situation he was in. Much was not happy at all; he truly wished that he had John here to help. However, he didn't, and Robin needed him - our reluctant hero took on the task and dealt with it.
It was several hours later when they finally rode back into camp. Robin was positioned over the saddle of his horse, which Much was slowly leading. He called for Djaq, his voice a deep pant, almost choking on his own fear. She approached, her eyes locked on Robin and then on Much. "What happened?" she said, already starting to examine her patient.
"He fell off his horse," Much wheezed as he dismounted. "Well?"
Djaq looked at him puzzled, "Well what?"
"Will he be alright?" he threw his arms wide into the air, giving a small bounce for emphases. He was concerned, no - that was too mild a word, he was frightened. What would he do if Robin died? Why, he might as well die too.
It also frustrated him that everyone else seemed to be so calm. John lifted him off the horse as if he were a scrap of blanket, Djaq walked to her bunk to get her sparse supplies, and Will took the reigns of the horses and guided them away to be tethered. No one appeared to be as worried as he was. Much could feel his face turn red from anger, he clenched his teeth and clamped his eyes shut - trying to compose himself. It was not usual for him to feel like this and he wasn't sure what frightened him more: Robin's condition or his own fury.
Couldn't being thrown from a horse mean death? Yes, Much answered his own question. Why, there had been a man in the Holy Land that had been thrown and - and… Much couldn't continue; he tried not to think about it. Master Robin would not die! He couldn't, he just couldn't…
Robin was laid upon his cot, and Djaq knelt down to begin whatever treatment he might need. Much dropped beside her, "How is he?"
"I need to look at his head."
"I already looked at it. It's bad," Much said as if his explanation could save her steps and time. Eyeing the wound anxiously, he recalled that it looked far worse earlier.
"Let me look at it first," Djaq said on a sigh, gently swooping Robin's hair over to the side. She was then confronted with a large contusion, caked with dried blood and dirt. At the sight, Much stood and began to walk back and forth - he was pacing. Were it not for the situation at hand, Djaq would have found his fidgety behavior amusing. She did feel sorry for the worried man, for she knew something he didn't, though there might be a lot of blood, head wounds always bled more; though this one looked worse than any normal head injury.
"Much," Djaq said, looking up from the wound. He ran back to her, heart in his throat. "Go and get me some water and a piece of cloth."
Without another word, Much had grabbed up a bowl, then ran to fetch the water, leaving Djaq in relative peace. In a brief amount of time, he had returned and handed Djaq his findings. She dipped the cloth into the cool liquid, quickly wringing it out. Pushing Robin's hair away again, she began to rub against the blood that was encrusted on his head. Slowly it came off, showing up on the material, rather than on his scalp. Once the majority of crimson was removed, Djaq could see that the wound was as bad as Much had tried to tell her. The head appeared to be cracked and the skin had been pushed to the side, leaving only meaty flesh exposed.
"There," she said, giving a forced smile at Much. "That doesn't look so bad." She hated to lie, especially to him, but if he knew the truth - only Allah knew what he would do.
Cocking his head slightly, Much eyed his master, "Then why doesn't he wake up?"
"He took a hard fall; he might not wake for a while."
"He groaned before," he said trying to find a bit of hope to cling to.
"That is a good sign," she placed a hand on Much's shoulder. "He is going to be fine. He just needs to rest." Her conscious told her that it was for the best, yet it ached so, to see him believe her fallacious words.
Standing, Djaq left Much and approached John, surely he would know what to do. Robin's wish would be that they find Marian; of course, that wish could very well be his last… "John," she said, her hands fidgeting, her actions made her worry that Much would take note and see something was wrong. "I need to speak with you."
John stepped over to the side, to the shadows of Sherwood - where only the trees and ground could hear them. John knew, full well, that they were good at keeping secrets, "What's this about?" His eyes questioned hers and he could see the fear in them.
Taking a deep breath, Djaq said, "Robin's wound - it - it is bad. I fear he could die." She quickly raised a hand, stopping anything that John could say - be it an outburst or a foul word. "Don't let Much hear. I don't think he could live knowing it."
John nodded, slowly and continuously, as if trying to wrap his mind around the abrupt, new thought. "What of Marian?"
Djaq could see that he wasn't looking directly at her, as if he were talking to the trees - asking the tall silent beings for advice. Allah knew that would be far more help than she was.
"You are who Robin would place over us," her voice cracked, on the word Robin. She shook it off; he was no different from the others she had lost. She needed to keep in control and keep her feelings quelled. "The choice is yours."
Steadily, John gazed into the distance. Djaq could see that he was thinking hard - trying to figure out a way around this. John said, looking her directly in the face the first time since she had told him of Robin's condition, "We stay here."
Djaq agreed with a nod of her head, she was not about to question his decision. Her head snapped up when John suddenly spoke again, his tone grave, "We bury him when the time comes. I will not leave him for the wolves."
Djaq tried to say something in response to his statement, but her voice choked on the words. All she could do was watch as John walked back to camp and proceeded to take Will aside. She looked over to Much; he was right where she had left him, by Robin's bed - his deathbed…
Much continued to keep a vigil over Robin, intending to do so for the remainder of the night. His thoughts were scattered as he sat but it was during that time he wondered what Marian would say about Robin's unruly haste. Marian! How could he have forgotten her? Dear God, what she must be going through!
Much jumped up, dragging everyone's attention to himself, "Marian! We need to go and find Marian!"
"We know Much," John said, his tone gruff and short. He sighed, shaking his head and looking at Robin - sadness clouding his expression. "It is too late tonight."
Much's protests went unnoticed by the others as they moved away. They did not want to hear his thoughts - for he echoed their own. Either way it seemed, that another one of their friends would be lost - Marian to a living hell, Robin to the dirt beneath their feet, and Allan to his traitorous execution on the gallows.
Much was angry yet again. How could they just ignore him! Though it wasn't anything out of the ordinary for Much, he couldn't see how they could disregard his words about such a subject. Flopping down loudly by Robin's side, Much said, weariness darkening his words, "I tried, Master. I tried."
The next day Much believed he was the first to wake, having fallen asleep on the ground near Robin's cot. He couldn't understand the crick in his neck and the ach in his bones, then the recollections of the previous day came rushing back, backhanding him across the face. Much jumped up and tentatively leaned over his Master, gazing at his chest as it rose and fell - shallow as it was.
He didn't know that Djaq had been up most of the night - saying prayer after prayer to the two God's she knew and others that she didn't. The one glimmer of hope she had was that Robin had lived through the night. At least her skills had not let him down yet; though they might very soon.
Feeling relieved that Robin was still doing well, Much began to move about noisily, in hopes of waking the rest. His clattering and stomping did not achieve the desired outcome - John and Djaq were already awake and engaged in a private conversation; Will was oddly absent.
"Where did he run off to," Much said so his companions could hear him, a slight bitter tint to his voice - didn't he care about poor Marian? They needed to find her, get her away from that cretin Winchester, and bring her back to Robin - surely, Marian would nurse him to health.
Djaq gestured to the woods in response to Much's question, "He went to town."
Crouching down, Much only half-heartedly listened to Djaq's explanations of the supplies they were running low on. Large portions of them were herbs. He did not pay that much attention, what did he care about what seasonings they were out of - they could just go without! His only true acquaintance with plants was which ones were edible and which ones weren't - even then he wasn't always sure... He did not know that she was speaking about plants that could heal.
As Djaq rambled, his thoughts rested only with the girl his Master loved. These thoughts were then interrupted by Will, who was racing towards them.
Will Scarlett skidded to a stop before the trio to catch his breath. Resting his hands on his knees he managed to gasp out a warning, "Sheriff - in - Sherwood."
Exchanging brief glances, those seated, stood quickly. John made sure that there was no evidence that anyone had been around, while the others moved into the hidden camp. Shutting the covering of leaves from the inside, John and Much peaked out from inconspicuous openings. Djaq knelt by Robin, making certain that he wouldn't groan out in his sleep, as Much claimed he had done earlier.
It was not until late in the day when they could hear proof of Will's testament. Dogs. Dogs, their handlers, and horseback riders were all encroaching in on the four outlaws. Much, who was beginning to get angry at the fact that nothing was happening, turned silent at the far off sounds. For that is all they were right now - sounds - apparitions in Sherwood, yet the phantoms were becoming more and more real each passing hour. It was obvious to the conscious members of the gang that the forest was being searched systematically - and they were the targets…
Nothing could describe Much's aggravation when the sounds stopped, still without any sign of the Sheriff. He wanted to sneak out, continue with their unplanned plan of finding Marian. Alas, no one else seemed to share in his wishes. Another thing that cut Much to the quick was that Djaq was tending to Robin far more than he was. Nevertheless, every time he attempted to gain control of being caretaker - she always found something or the other for him to do. Much did all that he was asked, with a growing resentment that she was trying to replace him. Usurp him as it were.
Not a soul slept that night in camp and soon the watchful night turned into a watchful morning - the dogs baying in the dawn. The silence was thick where the outlaws hid, no one dare speak; all they could do was listen. Djaq prayed again, silently and without the knowledge of the others. Her leader lay somewhere between sleep and death; moreover, the Sheriff was getting closer to finding them - hope seemed to be slipping out from beneath her feet.
Howling broke into everyone's thoughts as the first of the dogs and riders appeared in the distance. That sound brought them to where they were now - their leader broken and death looming over them all. Each one would trade their place right now for a peasant's lot. It did not seem possible that there could be a way out of this mess - even the most elaborate plan couldn't save them. The only thing they could do was sit and wait…
Breaths caught as the Sheriff and Gisborne rode forwards, the latter looked tired and his usual sneer had been replaced with a blank stare. Djaq knew the reason for that man's misery was the same reason for Robin's deathbed - Marian. Many men had lost wives in Djaq's land and they all had to continue on, fight, and die themselves to save their people. Sadly, she realized that if Marian was lost to these two men, neither would recover sufficiently to carry on. She was also suddenly aware of how much she felt sorry Gisborne. That notion startled her - this was the man that hunted them down like animals! But the expression, or lack of it, on his face made Djaq's heart go out to him. It was a new thought for her that Sir Guy could feel so deeply about Marian; she shook it from her mind - he was here to kill them - that was that. How could he feel true emotion? But those eyes haunted her and she knew, full well, that they carried more pain and hurt than most men could bear.
A voice piped up from the back of the conglomeration of guards and Black Knights, it spoke to the Sheriff, "My Lord, we have been over the entire forest, they aren't here." There was an edge to the words where tiredness and anger mingled.
Vaisey's head snapped back and yells could be heard, all directed at the opinionated guard. The Sheriff was not about to give up when he had extra qualified hands to help him take down Hood. The remaining Black Knights had good reason to want Robin Hood dead as well - having the same aspirations made them powerful allies.
"Search anyway!" the Sheriff said, looking through the trees for any indication of Hood. His gaze then floated to the direction of Gisborne, whose expression was distant and eyes downcast.
Leaning to the side of his white mount, Sheriff Vaisey swatted the air in front of his master at arms, "What's the matter with you?"
Guy's eyes drew themselves upwards to Vaisey's face. His voice was soft, countenance crestfallen, and head almost down with his hair falling into his bleak eyes, "I don't feel well Milord. A headache."
"Ah," the Sheriff shook his head in a silent reprimand. "You've been complaining of that since your little leper was taken away. I am sick and tired of your whinging and whining - you sound like a woman!" The words were acerbic and Guy jerked backwards to escape them. Paying no heed to the discomfiture he caused, Vaisey said, "Don't women mewl and say they have headaches when they don't want to submit to their husband's desires?"
The Sheriff was suddenly dangerously serene and began to circle Gisborne. He smiled into Guy's gloomy eyes, planning his next move - one that would hurt and rip worse than any mortal's sword. "Do you think that if Maid Marian complained of that fatigue it would help her situation?" Vaisey emphasized Marian's title, putting a snide twist on the now obsolete term.
Guy's eyes, formerly chillingly emotionless, clouded over - not with sorrow, hurt, or loss but with unnerving hate. Unable to repress the feeling, and fearing that he might draw his sword on the Sheriff before thinking, Guy of Gisborne turned his horse about and galloped towards Nottingham. Rage misted over his thinking - or maybe, just maybe, that one emotion had cleared it.
Hidden behind the screen of leaves, Djaq watched as Sheriff Vaisey, still seated on his horse, cocked his head to watch Gisborne ride off through Sherwood. He started to chuckle, a low menacing sound that was more than capable of twisting a dagger in a man's heart or making jest of the unwilling loss of a girl's maidenhead. What kind of man would be able to do that? What kind of man would be able to work for such a monster?
Guy of Gisborne dismounted and, snarling at the quivering young groom, told him to tend to his horse. He stomped up to the small room in the castle he had claimed as his own. It was meager, a cot, desk, and chair, were the only things that inhabited it when he was absent. The room only warranted living in when the Sheriff kept him late.
Sir Guy dropped to the edge of the paillasse, the straw crunching under his weight. Let the Sheriff hunt for Hood on his own - neither of them mattered anymore. His head drooped to his hands; he cradled it - letting his mind wander to think on Marian. His Marian, the woman he loved.
All day he sat, feeling his grip on reality loosen and a mad fever take control of his body, soul, and mind. Marian was in danger, and he hadn't prevented it. The image of her being violated couldn't force itself from his mind's eye. Over and over and over- he stood quickly, the backs of his legs pushing him off the cot. He had to get that picture away!
Lashing out he grabbed at the chair adorning the small desk. He tossed it to the other side of the room, a powerful force controlling him. A loud snap greeted him, as one of the wooden legs cracked. Guy imagined it to be several people: the Sheriff, Winchester, and whoever else betrayed her. Sadly, he sunk down again, that would have to be him - he had betrayed her. He had let Marian down…
Guy stood again and looked out the lancet in his room, dusk had fallen quite some time ago - he had to hurry. For what, only he was planning and only he could accomplish but his mind was suddenly twisting and turning and his heart was as if on fire. He wrenched open the door and strode down the hall, he had an itinerary and his next stop was the stables. It was not long after that he came back to the castle walls, re-sheathing his dagger and giving his head a toss to clear his mind. Threats were the only thing that people responded to nowadays - he knew that all too well.
Guy needed help for his sudden plan and the only one who could aid him now was Hood's former man, Allan A Dale. He couldn't trust his own troop of men; they were still under the Sheriff's control. Putting a slight hitch on his idea was the fact that, A Dale was incarcerated in the dungeons after failing to kill Hood in the Sheriff's twisted staff contest. Allan was now playing a waiting game but the outcome, a slow execution, was inevitable.
Of course, to have A Dale's help, Guy was going to have to get him out of the dungeon. That aspect of his plan would have to be done without any notice. He waited silently to be sure that he was not followed or seen - a wait that seemed to take an eternity for one now so impatient. Once he was confident in his solitude, Guy of Gisborne opened the door to the dungeons…
A/N Sorry for the delay, I have had a very busy few weeks. Never fear, I do not intend to not finish this - I am having far too much fun with it. We will go back to more of Guy, Allan, and Marian in the next chapter (I wish that Guy had a more prominent role in this chapter). This chapter showed what happened to our favorite outlaw and what brought Guy back to reality - kind of a prequel to the first chapter, which starts up where this one left off. Boy I hope that makes sense… Gulp.
Now of course Robin does have a good excuse for being thrown off his horse - he is not a poor horseman, but that explanation will come later.
I know that all the outlaws might have had a hand in saving Marian in the show, but for this story's sake let us just say that Robin took off after her - solo.
Also, I know that we never see the outlaw's horses unless we are meant to… They always seem to have horses when they -um- need them. So, I figure that the gang probably have them squirreled away in some little corner of Sherwood. Ah well, their care can be another chore for poor Much!
Thank you for reading and if you would like, please leave a review - they make me happy. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and the BBC - not me - owns any conversations or characters that you recognize.