Riddles

The evening was cool and the breeze that flew past every so often made comfort impossible. Guy was grateful for his leather coat that draped around him keeping him from the wind's bite. He risked a brief glance at the lad who rode between two guards - the boy couldn't have been any older then twelve and yet he had no cloak to shield him from the chill. The boy's eyes met his and Guy looked away. There was nothing he could do.

Were his morals so askew that he would assist in the murder of a child? For that was without a doubt what the Prince had planned. Was his heart that black? He didn't wish to think so, but the truth was staring at him this very moment.

Sadly, he understood why parents left their newly born babes out to die. Lack of food, not enough room, illegitimate offspring - why, hadn't cultures down through the ages practiced similar methods to rid themselves of unwanted children? Was this any different?

He tried not to dwell upon it and instead kept an eye out for Spencer, who was still preoccupied in the forest - wasting plenty of good leaves on his efforts… There was sure to be a shortage when he was done. Guy figured that he would rejoin them when they stopped for the night. That was until Prince John informed them that there would be no stopping.

"I'm perfectly content sleeping here," he said, patting the luxurious cushioned seat. "I wish to arrive in Nottingham by morning. I can't deprive my admirers in the shire one moment longer than necessary! They love me! Go, go!" He waved them onwards with his hand poised daintily out the window, his rings catching the last of the evening's sun.

Guy set his jaw and snarled at the guards to continue, secretly wishing the wind to tear through the carriage and freeze the Prince. Remounting his horse, he took another look at Philip; the boy looked exhausted, having been riding for quite some time. Though his buried empathy continued to arise and nag at him, Guy pushed it down deeper and rode on.

When the sun finished its descent and the cold worsened, Gisborne started to hear the boy's teeth chatter. He cringed. It didn't help that Allan was glaring at him when, just hours ago, he was quite content.

Veering off from his position beside Gisborne, Allan trotted up behind Philip. Although all he wore over his shirt was a vest - Guy's vest to be precise - he quickly removed that thin layer and tossed it the best he could over the youth's boney shoulders. Guy cringed again - Allan had far more humanity than he.

Though these thoughts bit into his mind and heart, Guy refused to show compasion to someone that he might be prevailed upon to kill. He had learned that lesson with Lambert. Although it was in fact the Sheriff who killed him, Guy knew that he hadn't prevented it. Marian acted as if he had done the act himself. That alone doubled the regret of loosing a comrade. The Sheriff demanded loyalty and for the sake of Marian's life, Guy would not give emotion a chance to make him question himself again.

He felt sick when he noted Philip looking at him once more; his soft blue eyes were peering out from under his unkempt, lengthy hair. Why the devil did he keep staring at him? If the boy expected him to assist in any escape attempt, he was deluding himself. Guy was already treading the deep and treacherous waters of the Sheriff's good graces; he couldn't afford to upset him again - not to mention the Prince.

Allan felt his stomach protest the fact that he had not eaten since the early morning. He hoped that the Prince would demand his supper soon. He rubbed his hand against his left shoulder trying without much success to warm up his chilled flesh. It was worth the extra suffering to give that child his vest. What angered him the most about the situation was the fact that Guy refused to do anything for the boy. Then, recalling to mind how Gisborne treated the stable lad, he could rationalize Guy's cold indifference. It made him wonder what type of father he would be should Marian ever feel a babe quicken - that reflection made him grimace…

Guy dreaded traveling through Sherwood at night. There was a greater chance for Hood and his scruffy band of outlaws to ambush them from a dark thicket. He could only hope that Prince John would change his mind before they reached the edge of the forest.

The pallid white moon gently lit the way for the travelers. The sounds that echoed through the cool night air were the low, abrupt hoots of owls and the shrill, smooth howls of wolves. Young Philip was skittish and seemed to jump at every noise he heard. Guy shook his head; Philip was obviously a craven child. Even the two men guarding him backed off ever so slightly - he would be too frightened to run, that was for certain.

Not long after these observations, another sound broke through the night - Spencer. "I'm announcing myself!" he yelled in the direction of the traveling party before riding up.

"Are you announcing yourself to the entire village we're passing through?" Guy growled when he was within proper hearing range.

"There was a distinct possibility that you would 'mistake' me for an outlaw and have me shot."

Guy nodded curtly - he couldn't deny this accusation, nor did he want to. The thought had been wafting about his mind…

The company, having stopped long enough to give Spencer a chance to get near, gave the later opportunity to swing off his horse and politely drop down before the carriage door. Guy hoped his knees got wet. "Your Majesty, I regret having been delayed but I took the opportunity provided me to procure some venison for your evening meal," Spencer took a quick glance to the back of his horse where a long, lean deer dangled. His planned speech had done its job and the Prince ordered a respite to prepare the meal.

Guy was disgusted. That was all that could be said. The Prince was overly pleased with Spencer's thoughtfulness and Sir Spencer was gloating in Guy's face. He sneered, feeling hot, angry, and wanting to utilize his power of authority, he almost told Allan to go and refill Spencer's flask from a nearby well - it was only a passing notion and he thought better of it… However it did afford him a slight smirk.

While Prince John's guards were collecting wood for a fire on which to roast the deer, Gisborne watched with disinterest, his only focus was on Spencer who seemed to have his own agenda. Let him try to impress the narcissistic Prince - he knew better. Guy was all too aware that the Prince's favor was as easily lost as won. Regardless of this wisdom, Guy still felt himself rankle - he didn't like to think of what it would mean for him if Spencer made himself the Prince's pet…

The fire turned into a roaring blaze that threatened to devour the scant village that was nestled nearby should an unwatchful eye let it loose from its confines. Guy bitterly hoped that the deer burnt. He also doubted the intelligence of the meal preparations. Not only for the fact that an accident could readily occur but this sizeable fire was drawing attention to them and with Hood always two steps ahead it was unwise to give any would be informant opportunity to expose them.

Allan felt a shiver of relief as warmth ran down his body while he held his hands out in front of him before the fire. He smiled grimly and went to get the child and move him closer to the inviting heat of the flames. It was in his utter surprise and shock that he called out, "Where'd he go?" At his unchecked words, every body pivoted in his direction and as a result, in the vicinity where young Philip had sat, mounted on his horse. The sudden and tense anger that penetrated the air made Allan wish that he hadn't said a word. Made him wish that he had given the lad a head start. Made him wish that he had given Philip the slim chance of survival. Instead, he had condemned the boy to almost certain punishment and future death. Allan A Dale felt ill.

Guy cursed under his breath and at once swung into his saddle, grabbing his horse's reigns. Spencer mounted his steed as well and bolted after him into the darkness of the surrounding forest. Guy knew, or at least hoped, that the pitiful animal that the lad rode wouldn't get far. As if forging an unspoken agreement and unholy alliance for this chase, Guy and Spencer split apart to endeavor to cut the boy off. His face contorted into a mask of anger - he refused to work with Spencer in any shape or form and decided to constitute his act as a separate search for Philip.

Gisborne had to give the boy some credit, his convincing act of terror and trepidation had caused a lapse in his guard and in effect, the chance for him to attempt escape. Clever lad.

His rapid pace blew his hair back and forced him to blink against the onrush of wind. Guy's nostrils flared almost painfully as the night air invaded them. The new green growth was set in shadow and he squinted to see better. There was no sign of Philip, he would have to rely on more than just his vision.

He brought his horse to an abrupt halt and listened. A deep scowl etched across his face, it was nigh impossible to hear with Spencer crashing through the brush like an addled boar… Ah - there was something. Guy ascertained that there was a distinction between Spencer's crashing and the child's. He listened carefully and was able to figure the approximate location of the boy.

Turning his horse to the left, Guy made his way in the direction of Philip. It was but a moment before he came upon the sorry beast and its rider, plodding noisily along. "Stop!" Guy commanded, bringing his steed to a halt. The boy turned and looked back at him with frightened eyes. He felt a rush of pity for the child but choked it back forcibly. Alas, the emotional disruption of his task gave Philip ample time to kick the horse hard, causing it to clumsily gallop further into the night.

Sir Guy cursed his ill fortune and tried to work his way around the undergrowth without twisting any of his mount's legs. This slowed him up and gave his quarry an even greater advantage; the brat had gotten away again!

Finally free of the vegetation, Guy sped after him and swore that he would not let this child outsmart him. He could almost hear Vaisey's derision if such an event occurred. That thought alone spurred him onwards.

It was a little bit before Gisborne could locate the boy this time but truth be told, it was only the horse he found, skittering away from the edge of a stream. No Philip in sight. Unlike the old, decrepit horse that was frightened by the running water, Guy's stallion had no trouble crossing the watercourse and he was once again on the hunt for the boy who was now on foot. That fact could work to both his advantage and detriment. Philip wouldn't be able to travel as fast on foot but he could hide with ease. He prayed that the frightened lad would continue to run…

His prayers were answered. Gisborne spotted Philip ducking out from a bush and running in the opposite direction of him. He gave chase and watched with growing frustration when Philip tumbled down a small incline, unable to stop his decent; his hands tied. Steadily Guy followed him and calmly spoke as if his tone of voice would make up for all the unspoken and spoken threats the boy had been subjected to, "There's no where to run. Give it up you can't hide from me."

Wild eyed, the lad turned back to look at him, "I don't want to die!"

"No one's going to kill you, boy," Guy said dangerously, though he bit his tongue on the unsaid and dreadful word 'yet.' He was not naive to the Prince's plan; he only feared the part he would be forced to play in it. "There's no use trying to escape, you'll not get far," Guy continued, swiftly dismounting his horse not far from the shaking child.

Philip stood still against the backdrop of fresh greenery; his shoulders slumped in defeat and sadness. He waited while Guy approached, ready to accept his fate. Philip mumbled something that Guy couldn't quite catch or maybe it was that he didn't want to hear it. Only one word but he could tell that it was harshly said.

Ignoring this Guy stretched out his hand as one would steady a spooked horse, "That's right. There's no where to go."

Suddenly the boy's knees buckled and he fell to the ground in a heap. Guy looked on in consternation but before long, the sickening crack that he had heard registered and he looked up from the helpless body of Philip and into the triumphant face of Sir Spencer who was gripping a large, thick stick.

"What in God's name are you doing?" Guy yelled, his eyes fixated on Spencer even as he bent down to see if the boy was still living.

"Fetching the brat," Spencer said, breathing heavily. Gisborne couldn't see any sign of his horse and assumed he must have gone on foot for some distance. He was also soaked from the waist down. If different circumstances were present Guy would have been amused - but that was not the case.

"Are you to bring him back dead?" He felt a pulse - thank the holy mother…

"Does it matter?"

"Do you want to take the pleasure of deciding that away from Prince John?"

The silence on Spencer's end took on a terror - apparently he hadn't thought of that. Guy gave Philip a shake to rouse him but there was no response. Growling he closed his eyes in frustration, what was he to do with an unconscious child? There was only one thing he could do. Sliding one hand under Philip's knees and his other under his head, he lifted the boy up and into his arms. He was surprisingly light for his age and Guy figured that he had been living in peril for some time.

Gisborne stomped over to his horse and laid Philip over the saddle. He mounted his steed and awkwardly managed to pull Philip into a seated position. Spencer stood there and watched; his brow creased with deep lines of thought - or was that worry. "Are you just going to stand there?" Guy snarled. "I'm not about to clean up your bloody mess."

Slowly Spencer began to walk on ahead of Guy. The latter let him take the lead - he did not intend to bring the injured boy back alone. He would not take the blame!

It was not long before they came upon Sir Spencer's discarded horse, tethered to an outstretched limb on the other side of the stream. Patiently Gisborne waited while Spencer waded across and dripping, swung into his saddle. He was very much aware that his foe, sensing imminent misfortune, refused to again take the lead.

Embittered Guy rode forward, taking charge of bearing Philip back to the Prince - taking the boy to his death. Looking down at the limp body in his arms he felt a worming feeling of anger toward Spencer. What he had done was uncalled for. It was then that Guy recalled Allan's reaction to his killing of Rodger of Stoke. Had that been unnecessary? No. He was ridding Nottingham of one of Hood's accomplices - it was necessary. If he could justify that - why was this affecting him so?

Though he was still breathing in hard, shallow waves, Guy felt a pang of disquiet that the child would die in his arms before the night was over. He could hardly stand to admit to himself that the Sheriff might order him to strike the fatal blow. He grimaced in dread and also derision of himself. Marian was supposed to save him, redeem him, however it seemed that he was still making deals with the devil - only now it was to keep her safe… As long as she lived, he had the chance of redemption but what if the price of his salvation was blood? An innocent child's blood? Surely, that would cancel the other out…

Slowly he reentered the makeshift camp, carrying Philip and hoping that the Prince would be in a spirit of good will and not blame him for something that was not in his power to prevent. Sir Guy took a deep breath and looked pointedly at Sir Spencer. Silence. Prince John, never a patient man, awaiting an explanation from no one, strummed his fingers against the side of the carriage where his bejeweled hand was resting.

The Prince raised a questioning eyebrow at the limp figure cradled against Guy, "Clumsy?"

"No," was Gisborne's stoic reply. "Sir Spencer hit him over the head when I already had him," he relished the bluntness of his statement - the anticipation of Spencer's retribution made his chest feel lighter. His eyes glinted as he caught Spencer squirming in his saddle.

Prince John slowly shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose while giving his head a mild shake. "Is he alive? I don't want him dead before I can enjoy it."

Guy felt his nose wrinkle and he swallowed hard, trying in vain to rid himself of the bitter taste in his mouth. Despite his internal struggles, he maintained eye contact with the Prince and began to answer.

Spencer didn't give him a chance to reply, "He is alive, your Highness - he just won't be giving us anymore trouble." He added as an afterthought, "Sir Gisborne hadn't apprehended him yet - but all was resolved by my hand."

Guy growled privately while the Prince waved them off with a sharp flick of his wrist. He thrust the lad down to Allan who, with the force of the action, stumbled backwards barely managing to keep hold of Philip.

Allan carried the soaking boy over towards the fire and laid him down to keep warm, his vest did him little good now. Guy crossed his arms and watched the scene - which most might consider recounting as touching - fold out before him. It irked him that Allan was taking such time to tend to the lad and previously he himself hadn't even cared if the lad was chilled or not. Angrily Guy sent Allan out after Philip's abandoned horse - that would give him something to do other than fussing about the child and it would get him out of his sight. Mayhap Vaisey's own disdain for do-gooders was rubbing off on him…

Guy knew that Allan was looking down his nose at him for not being more considerate of the boy. However, Guy of Gisborne did not pride himself on kindness - he was the Sheriff's enforcer, not a wet nurse. It did unnerve him that he caught himself worrying about Marian finding out about his callousness. Mayhap it was too late for redemption - his humanity was too far gone to be worth saving...

As he was leaving, Allan stopped and surveyed Spencer's sodden appearance, looking him up and down as one might a horse they were about to purchase. "Couldn't find a garderobe?" Before Spencer could respond or attack, Allan vanished into the woods. Even though he was with Gisborne now, Allan still possessed the ability to disappear quicker than you could blink.

The only thing that made the remainder of the evening worth passing was the glares that Spencer received from the Prince. It was not for the fact that his illegitimate nephew lay unresponsive in the dirt, but for the fact that the meat was hardly worth eating. It had roasted unevenly - half was burnt while the other half was raw and chewy. Although it wasn't Spencer who sat by and watched the meat ruin, it was Spencer's gift and the Prince blamed whoever suited him.

Upon mounting his horse, Guy silently watched Allan's own unspoken anger at the Prince's refusal to allow the unconscious Philip permission to ride in the carriage.

"Just toss him over his saddle," Spencer said from his seat near the quelling blaze. He poked at the smoldering sticks sending sparks springing forth into the cold air - they disappeared as quickly as a firefly's flash. His own mind was working rapidly - what was he to do? The more Prince John approved of him the easier it would be to convince the Sheriff that Gisborne was of little use anymore. But if the Prince expressed anger to the Sheriff on his account - ill founded as it may be - well then, all would be lost to him. He had been planning this for years and he couldn't allow it to go up in smoke.

Sir Spencer wiped his hands down his pants and stood, flipping his hair to his back. Spencer was determined to be in control of his future. His father had repeatedly instructed him in the ways of control, action, and power. He could be a king in a sea of commoners if he set his mind to it and was willing to take any risk that enabled him to get closer to his goal. That goal was in Nottingham.

Guy knew there was a good chance that the boy would fall off, if not watched closely. Heaving a sigh and looking in A Dale's direction, Guy motioned to Philip. Though he doubted his acumen for his next words, he spoke them anyways, "Hand him up here."

Allan at first looked startled but then bit his lip in amusement, "You're gonna 'old him?" The thought of Guy carrying Philip all the way to Nottingham made all the mischief rise up inside him but Allan knew better and forcibly gulped down his mirth.

"Do you think it better to let him fall again? Hitting his head in the process?"

The smile dropped off Allan's face, "No - I 'spose not." With an exaggerated grunt, Allan scooped up the lad and hoisted him up to Guy's outstretched arms.

Lip flinching backwards as he tried to position the boy comfortably, Guy felt his arms tense at the light weight; he closed his eyes, letting his reluctance settle deep into the pit of his stomach. He hadn't held many children. The last baby he held felt like it had occurred a lifetime ago and the one before that - he didn't care to think on again. That was an unpleasant memory at best…

The dark path was scarcely visible and Guy dreaded what they would encounter once they passed the cusp of Sherwood. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him Hood would be waiting for them. He always knew when Gisborne was most vulnerable and that thought disrupted his peace more than the awkward situation he was in with the boy. Guy did not know how to be around children - even unconscious ones.

Every noise set his teeth on edge. His horse felt his uneasiness and drew backwards, Guy nudged him on. It was at this point in the journey that Allan volunteered his services and offered to take Philip for a turn. Guy was about to silently pass the youth over, when Spencer added his snide, derision-filled comments, "That boy's about as big as you are. You're not man enough to carry him."

Allan had never been considered small of stature before. It was a shock to his ego and he didn't take kindly to it. "And I 'spose you could do better?"

"Yes. Yes I could," he drew his horse along side Gisborne's animal. "I'll take the boy."

Guy's eyes glanced sideways at his foe and then rolled upwards as if begging God to either send him a message or smite him. God did neither and thus Guy was expected to continue on his own and knowing what he did about Sir Spencer, he did not think it wise to entrust him with the care of the lad. It was obvious that he had some ulterior motive, more then likely entailing earning the Prince's forgotten favor again.

Allan shared his thoughts and took the boy from Gisborne before Spencer could object, "I think I'll tae' him." His teeth shown in a flash of a grin and he added with apparent sincerity and relish, "Wouldn't want what happened to you to happen to 'im too."

Flummoxed and angry that he should be foiled so quickly Spencer said, "And what would that be?"

"I wouldn't want him dropped on his 'ead."

Seething, Guy knew wholeheartedly that Hood would find them before they reached the castle. There was not a candle's chance in fiery hell that Robin Hood could miss them. It was not the size of the party that would give away their whereabouts - it was the Prince's mouth. Prince John could not keep his voice down to save his soul and Guy could do nothing for fear of loosing his own tongue.

Prince John continued to loudly prattle on, making a knot of warm unease fill Guy's stomach. The Prince was speaking of his nephew, "I'll say he was killed during a hunting party - a lion ate him. Oh - sweet fate! Wont it be a lark for my brother, The Lion Hearted, for his natural son to be eaten by a lion?" From where Sir Guy rode, he could hear the Prince slap his knee for giddiness.

Guy frowned and let the blackness crease his brow. "My

Liege, with all due respect I don't believe there are any lions in Sherwood," he said this on a light sigh although he kept the irritation out of his words as much as possible.

"And how do you know?" the Prince squealed indignantly. "If I want to say there are lions in Sherwood - I'll say there are lions in Sherwood!"

He gave a brief 'of course My Lord' and rode ahead closer to Allan. Even though he could understand why Prince John wanted to do away with the boy, he could not understand what great joy it held for the man.

The moon cast strange shadows along the uneven path. More then once Guy was certain that he saw an outlaw waiting for them to step into an ambush and yet each time it was only a stray limb or some other apparition that sent the hairs on the back of his neck shooting upwards. Therefore, it was with the large quantity of perceived danger that his guard continued to lessen and he was grossly unprepared when an arrow whizzed past his ear.

He drew his sword before he knew it and Gisborne felt his jaw set like stone and his hands clench tightly around the hilt of his weapon, "Show yourself!"

His horse danced on the trail, becoming more frightened by the tense feelings. Gisborne couldn't see well; the trees blurred together in the darkness, the shadows played tricks on his mind, the moon taunted him with its teasing light. Guy steadied his mount and searched the tree line for his enemy's hiding place. All he heard was a mocking voice call back to him, "Out for a moonlit stroll Gisborne?"

Guy let his face contort into a half grin half grimace, "I'm surprised to find you Hood. All of Nottingham thinks you've been frightened off."

"Maybe I just keep my doings private. Unlike you. Tell me - did you really think you could murder a child without anyone hearing of it?"

Gisborne felt his stomach lurch and then tighten - who told Hood? Immediate suspicion fell to Allan. Hadn't he betrayed Locksley? What was to prevent A Dale from betraying him as well? But Allan was by no means an addled fool - he wouldn't dare risk Guy's wrath… The only other people privy to the knowledge of Philip was himself, Vaisey and Sir Spencer… Would Spencer inform Hood to meet his own ends? Surely not. But that was the last option unless… No! Guy refused to entertain the thought. She wouldn't. Or would she? His mouth was dry - she was more than capable of finding out what she wanted to know. She could. And she would…

Composing himself and ridding his mind of those terrible thoughts in favor of the task at hand, he said, "Your outnumbered, Hood."

"Maybe in manpower but not in wit."

Guy gave a low growl, "Why don't you show yourself?"

Robin's boyish grin broadened and he looked to see if Much shared his mirth. Satisfied that he did, Robin nocked another arrow into place and drew it back. It sailed just past Gisborne's head again and smack into Prince John's fashionable carriage. Robin guffawed when he heard the King's brother shriek in terror. "Was that good enough?"

Though he wished that he could continue to goad Gisborne, he knew that his small gang could not defeat fifteen armored guards without risk to Philip. Prince John might order the instant execution of his nephew and what if Robin was unable to prevent it. They would get the boy, but not tonight. At least they knew that he had arrived. That was a start - but only a start. Though Gisborne and his band were the interlopers now, Robin would trespass on the castle as soon as he was able…

He took a good look at the boy that his former comrade, Allan, was holding. Memorizing his features so that the Sheriff wouldn't be able to attempt any trickery. Had he known that the errand Vaisey had sent them on was to escort the Prince he would have been more prepared.

Without another sound, the band of fugitives disappeared leaving no trace, save the twin arrows. One embedded into the ground, the other adorning the carriage wall - a memento that they had happened upon Robin Hood and a reminder of what he was capable of. Silently he swore to the King that he would save his son's life or die trying. Gisborne might be willing to have that child's blood on his hands - Robin of Locksley would not. He would save Philip but with a plan that was as flawless as possible. Well - at least half a plan…

It took a while for all to be considered safe before the Prince would consent to continue. Guy was unnerved by Hood's presence more than he cared to let on. He was even more unsettled by how they knew about Philip. Even if someone had seen them and informed Hood that they were heading for Sherwood - not a soul knew about the boy. His doubts ate at him, chewing slowly away at the surety he had for those closest to him.

Deception. Lies. Liar! The word jumped out at Guy suddenly. Liar. That was the word Philip had spoken. He had called him a liar when he said that no one would kill him. Sir Guy couldn't deny the accusation - the lad was right, he was a liar. Oh, how much more torture it would be to have to look that boy in the eye and tell him so. If fortune was showing him favor perhaps the Sheriff would assign the unsavory task to Spencer. Guy shook his head, no - fortune had never smiled on him before…

A/N Umm… Hi there! I hope this chapter made sense - especially Guy. He was very hard to deal with in this chapter… (I mean REALLY!) I hope he didn't seem too nice (or not nice for that matter). He is trying to deal with the thought of what he might be forced to do. And whereas he has been able to distance himself before (e.g. when he would rather send the boys from 'Childhood' to the mines to an almost certain death, instead of killing them himself) he is unable to do that now and is having problems with it... I think. I hope.

Also I think that I might have misspelled Gisborne in some parts near the end (I saw what I did and tried to fix them - hopefully I found them all) but I was sick and taking cough syrup when I wrote it (finally had an excuse to sit down and write - I'm sick…) so that is my justification for the error and any subsequent mistakes throughout the chapter (written before my sickness or not.).

I would also like to thank all the anonymous reviewers! You guys are great!

And that's a wrap! (well - for this chapter anyway. ;) )