Culpable
Silently Robin stepped from behind a tree, "What is it you want, traitor?"
Allan felt his throat tighten in dread - he was not prepared. If he only had but a few more minutes, he could have figured out what he was going to say to Robin. His former leader looked on, his face devoid of emotion.
For the life of him, Allan couldn't call to mind why he was here in the first place. What was he thinking? Did he believe that he would just pop over and Robin would welcome him back with wide-open arms? Pretending that nothing ever happened? No. He was a fool. Guy had been right this time - Robin would end him.
Allan rubbed the back of his neck so hard he could feel the skin bunch and he was certain a layer peeled off as well, "The boy at the castle - you need to get 'im out." His throat constricted again and he waited for Robin's angry response to his unnecessary statement.
To his surprise, Robin only gave a curt nod of his head. Allan wet his lips with his tongue, "Any ideas?"
Robin gave a disgusted sort of sound, "Do you think that I would tell you my plans? Just so you could scamper off to Gisborne and tattle? Either you are a more willing pawn of his than I thought, or you're desperate to get yourself out of a scrape you've gotten into with him."
Allan felt his face warm regardless of the cool night. He swiped at it, as if running a hand down his cheek would soothe the burn. If he did in fact believe this, he was mistaken however, for the heat remained and Allan could only hope that the dark night was hiding this fact from his former friend.
"I'm not 'ere to spy."
"Oh? Well I suppose you've done enough of that to last through this lifetime well into the next. Surely your maker the devil will be pleased with all you were able to accomplish in his service."
Allan almost took a step forward. Almost wrapped his hands around Robin's neck. Almost shook him. Almost cried. Not a fretting, childish cry but one that comes from deep within, so strong and so very powerful that there is naught that can be done to stop it. Instead he took a shaky breath, "If I wanted 'ta ruin you, I'd 'ave done it. Don't think I can't tell Gisborne where this place is."
He watched Robin's upper lip shift into a sneer at his threat and he continued, his voice almost shaking, "But I wouldn't. I don't want to hurt you. I want to help the boy."
Though Robin didn't mean it, it was beyond his power to stop or even take back the words once they tumbled from his mouth, "Get Gisborne to help you."
Allan hung his head in pronounced shame, "'es part of it. I-" He hesitated, he wasn't willing to put his thoughts into words for Robin to hear, "I think he's gonna kill 'im." Or has… He remembered Guy being so long down in the dungeon. He imagined what he must have been doing. He felt his nostrils burn and his stomach roll with vomit. However, there was a small piece of him that doubted that Gisborne's intentions were malicious. He recalled the pains Guy had taken in carrying Philip, how Guy had not harmed the stable lad even though he could have… Why would Guy harm him? Why then?
Allan didn't want to think on this anymore. He didn't want to be here standing before Robin. All he wanted was to go home, sink into his bed, and hear the soft crunch of straw as he burrowed under the blankets. He had replaced the musty smell with his own sweat and tears. That bed was all he really had to claim now. His position wasn't as alluring to him as it once was and he secretly wished deep within himself that he had never taken that path. He wished that he had only been willing to be a small part of something larger instead of forcing himself into a place of power that stole his soul from within him.
Robin shook his head, "That's the most obvious statement you've made. Give me a reason to believe that you are here to help us and not betray us." There was a pause in Robin's words before he continued. His voice was slightly louder this time and dripping with all the hurtful emotions that welled up inside him as he looked at Allan, "Again."
Allan felt stung, his chest hurt so violently that he was surprised when he looked down and didn't see a knife sticking out of his heart. Allan grappled with his thoughts, trying to give an answer to Robin. Nothing came to mind and he felt his heart go as numb as his tongue.
Allan's eyes grew wide for a moment - he had remembered something. Yet he didn't want to say - he wanted Robin to come to the conclusion on his own. He didn't want to use the example of him rescuing Much from Spencer to get back into Robin's good graces. It would not be the same if he mentioned it. Not at all.
He was sorry to think that either Much had failed to reveal his part in the rescue or that Robin was choosing to overlook that good deed. He let out a puff of air that had gathered in his cheeks and shook his head. "There's nothin' to say."
Robin felt his anger rising in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know whether he was bothered by Allan refusing to give a reason or by the fact that he knew he was being harsh. But Allan had made his bed… "You are a fool if you think I'd let you come back."
Swallowing, Allan barely nodded his head in assent. He turned to Will and gave a strained, sad smile. Allan took a step, resigned to Robin's decision and then, to his shock, Will grabbed his shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze before releasing him. Robin Hood stood as still and unmovable as stone - his expression unyielding and pitiless.
As he walked back through Sherwood, Allan felt the bitterness coil around his insides, choking them. He almost turned and told Robin about his role in Much's survival. Almost. Almost was too little, too late. No matter how the resentment ate at him, Allan couldn't help but feel that he had brought this upon himself. If only he hadn't been greedy then none of this would be happening! While he replayed the unfolding events leading to this in his mind's eye he saw that everywhere he turned there was avarice. The thought made him sick. Not only would God not forgive his sins - neither would his friends… Allan reasoned that the latter was worst of all; he could wait on God's judgment but his friends' had come too quickly and too powerfully. They would never fully forgive him.
The only shred of hope he had was Will's reassuring gesture. It was like a soothing balm in his stomach and he could only pray that if Will felt that way now - maybe some of the others would be able to excuse his faults too. Doubtful as it was, Allan wanted to believe it was so.
Robin's jaw was set as he watched Allan's progress. When he caught Will's expression, his own softened as he remembered how Allan had been. "We can't trust him." At Will's small, silent nod Robin sighed - they couldn't trust him - could they? He shook his head. No. Of course not…
Marian watched from the bed as Guy put on his boots. She did not feel well and had no desire to greet the day. Her heart felt heavy and she longed to know where he had gone last night. When she had awoken in the early hours before dawn, he was next to her but she was sure countless hours had past before that. She also felt her guilt coming to find her again. She had lied to him to save herself. What would Guy do if he knew that she was still working with Robin? She was less afraid of what he would do to her, though those consequences were inevitable, than what he would do to Robin or even himself…
Despite the fact that she suddenly felt ill again at the thought, she knew that she could not tell him. She couldn't cause him more grief and risk his anger in the process. Sometimes truths were best kept in the heart.
She caught Guy staring at her and looked away quickly, her previous thoughts causing a flush of heat to soak her cheeks. Didn't he know better then to trust her? She could almost justify her actions by that simple thought. If he didn't know well enough by now surely he deserved it. Immediately that thought sped out of her mind and her face grew hotter because of it. She was ashamed.
She slowly turned back to him and frowned at his state of dress. "Shouldn't you wear your coat? It's still cool out."
Guy shook his head and a far-off look entered his eyes for the briefest of moments, "I'll be fine." He rose from the edge of the bed, using his hands to push off his knees. "Besides," he continued, resting a hand on the patterned material that hung from the frame. "I won't need it later."
He remained by the bed and looked down at her, his expression was almost curious. In that moment she was sure that he knew she had lied to him - it had to be noticeable. Marian felt her body chill as she looked into his eyes. She held his gaze and felt her mouth go dry as he stared at her.
Slowly Guy bent down, leaning one hand on the bed to the far side of her. Even slower still, he touched her lips to his and kissed her. Sweet, soft, strong - Marian felt so many emotions whirl around inside that she felt dizzy. Guy pulled away and straightened, tracing his finger over her jaw line before he left the room.
She felt her lips with her fingers, running over the same spot his had been. Her innards tightened and her lie jumped at her like a tangible, predatory beast. It was not as if she hadn't lied to him before… Yet this betrayal to the man she called husband seemed to transcend all her previous falsehoods. She was almost certain that God was punishing her for lying to her mate.
As if her feet had wings, she flew out of bed and rushed to the chamber pot. It had not been dumped that morning and the odor that hung about it was foul. She gagged, pulling her hair to the side to keep any strands from falling into the sour liquid. Her nose burned and then her throat as she heaved. She tried to ignore the small splashes that her sickness caused for fear she might start gagging again. Overlooking those noises was a sad attempt and she felt the remaining contents of her stomach jerk and contract at the thought.
Once she was done, she remained on her knees, doubled over the bowl, hands pressed tightly to her twirling abdomen. Her breathing was hard and gingerly she moved one hand to her face to push the hair out of her eyes. Marian eased away from the urine and vomit and sat down on the bed, taking a shaky breath as she did.
She was cursed! God was indeed disciplining her for her treachery and she couldn't deny that she deserved it. The only hope that she had was that he would not continue to be so cruel in his sentencing.
Guy didn't act surprised to find Allan in the barn though the fact remained that he truly was. He was relieved as well - he had already been thinking of what excuse he would make to the Sheriff for his absence.
He came to a halt, standing over Allan, glaring down at him. Guy's arms drew over his chest and he was the picture of annoyance, "Stop lazing around in the hay. You're not a milk maid."
Allan smirked, "No but I found my fair share of 'em here."
Guy looked to the heavens and hoped that Allan asked God Almighty for forgiveness on account of his lewd tongue and mind. "Get up." His jaw was set as Allan sighed and stood, brushing the straw off his breeches.
Allan felt exhaustion clinging to him. All he wanted to do was sleep. He had gotten precious little of it that night having been locked out of the manor. And when he had lain down, Robin, Will, Djaq and John plagued his thoughts and dreams. Even Much made his own appearance, bent over a boiling pot of squirrel. Allan suppressed a shudder…
Not bothering to question where they were riding to, Allan obediently followed Guy. However, he really did not need to ask - the road to Nottingham was a familiar one and Allan knew they would receive no rest that day.
Guy was on his way to the dungeon with Allan on his heels. There was something he needed to collect. His heart sank to the heel of his boots - not ten feet away, the Sheriff, Prince John, and Sir Spencer emerged from the dungeon. There was nothing to do now but wait. He nodded his head in a respectful greeting to the Sheriff before addressing the Prince, "Your Majesty." He bowed sloppily, for in the process he stamped hard on Allan's foot to drive the point home. Allan gave a suppressed grunt before bowing as well.
To Spencer, Guy gave a look of contempt - a sneer to be precise. So full of scorn and derision that a weak man would crumple under it. Spencer merely licked his lips, thinking - plotting. Guy knew he should be more cautious but at this moment, that was the least of his worries. Had they seen his coat with the boy? If they had, what would they do?
Vaisey tilted his head off to the side in a look of contemplation, "Sir Spencer found something peculiar in Philip's cell." He put his hands behind his back and clamped his fingers over the wrist of his left hand. Singling Guy out, he began to stroll around him at a leisurely pace.
Guy felt the Sheriff's narrowed eyes burning into his back. He shivered. It was worse than if a pack of ravenous wolves were circling him. At least with them he knew what he was up against. With the Sheriff, he never knew where he stood when he was angry. He never knew what that man would do. Guy kept his shoulders stiff as he held his arms rigid at his sides.
Vaisey tapped a finger to his lips, "Do you have any idea what he could have happened across? Shoved in a dark corner - almost didn't see it. Black you know."
Guy remained motionless. There was no doubt that they had found his trespass. His kindness - was worse than a sin where they were concerned. He felt weak and hated the thought that they would look down on him for his compassion - his mercy.
Chuckling, the Sheriff answered his own question, "It was a coat. A leather coat. A black, leather coat."
Guy swore that Vaisey's eyes were sparkling. He was relishing in this moment - he so badly wanted to humiliate him. He was certain that the Sheriff had been humiliated himself upon finding that his master-at-arms was sympathetic to the boy they were planning to kill.
"Any thoughts on who its owner is?" Vaisey raised his eyebrows in question.
When Guy didn't respond, Vaisey continued, "Strange thing to lose in a dungeon - isn't it Gisborne?" Guy stared straight ahead, as the Sheriff reached for and gripped the upper part of his arm, his nails scraping at his jacket, before yanking down on the leather so that Guy's face was even with his, "What were you thinking?"
Guy could feel the Sheriff's breath and spit on his face and it only served to remind him of the previous morning's encounter. He swallowed hard at the remembrance. Before he had a proper chance to respond, Vaisey shoved him away with great force for a man of his size. Guy managed to regain his balance without stumbling. He straightened his posture quickly, holding back a disgusted exhale.
Vaisey was right up against his face a second later and speaking with no tone in his voice - a dull whisper, "Next time you try to fly on your own - I'll make good on my threat to clip your wings. Do you understand?" The Sheriff turned quickly and tugged his tunic down, smoothing it out. He slapped his hands together and beamed, "Shall we continue?"
Allan moved into position next to Guy and the two of them watched in silence as the Sheriff, Spencer, and Prince John continued down the corridor. Turning to look at Guy, Allan tried to keep the shock off his face. He had given that child his coat? He hid his grin along with the pang of guilt that hit him for having doubted Guy's motives. He tried his best to ignore the fact that this didn't change anything in the long run. There was still the possibility that Guy would carry out the Prince's plan.
Philip stared longingly at his only source of warmth as it lay just out of his reach on the dirty stone. The man called Spencer had made certain that he would be unable to get hold of it no matter how hard he tried. Philip knew this first hand - he had already made the attempt. He couldn't do anything. He sighed; at least he had been warm that night.
The door was loud as it opened. The screeching noise made his shoulders convulse and a chill swept over his entire being. He wanted to cover his ears. Couldn't his uncle leave him be? Was it not bad enough that he had tried to strip him of his dignity? Throw him in a cell and dangle his death over him like a sword on a hair? Damocles be damned! He was the one living in fear and he didn't even want the throne. He had never had ambition toward the crown and yet here he was.
Philip turned his attention back to the door. The fact that there were only two sets of footfalls on the stone stairs, partially alleviated his fears. Mayhap it wasn't his father's brother after all. He was suddenly curious as to whom it might be and if they were friend or foe. A flash of desire ignited in his chest. He had heard of Robin of Locksley - the Earl turned outlaw. Even his grandmother had spoken of him and his loyalty to the crown. Dare he pray that it would be that bold man? Of course, when he opened his eyes from his silent entreaty it was not and he closed them again in resignation.
It was the man who had given him the coat - he vaguely remembered his uncle calling him Sir Guy. The other man who had given him his vest that first night was with him. Philip's eyes drifted to the wadded up coat that lay in the middle of the floor. He watched as Sir Guy bent down to retrieve it.
Philip had tried to the best of his ability to hide it in the early morning. He had shoved it to a dark corner and hoped that none would notice it when the flickering torches were burning. The man called Spencer, though, had sharper eyes than most. He had seen it right off and made a show of telling the Sheriff and his uncle. He gritted his teeth, how he hated that man. He had discovered with little effort the knot on the back of his head and had no doubt that Spencer was the one who had struck him down the other night. He almost laughed. At least he thought it was just the other night - he had lost track of time. For all he knew it could have been weeks ago.
He held his chin up and tried to look imposing even while his dirty, greasy hair tickled his eyes. His head pained him still but he did his best to put on a brave front and ignore it. He looked at them from the corner of his eye and brushed his bangs away so they were not impeding his vision.
These were his captors and yet he felt that he owed them something. Even his own blood had cared less about him then they had. Would they be the ones to kill him? He did not know but right now, their kindness deserved some measure of respect.
Guy was looking at him in an unpatronizing way, as if he deemed him worthy enough to be a man - old enough for it to be unnecessary to smooth over words and fate.
Shakily Philip stood, he hadn't eaten for a while and the effects were visible. "Sir Guy?" there was a tremor of a question in his greeting.
Guy paused - how was he supposed to address this child? He was not a prince. He was not royalty - however he was the son of the king… He was no mere commoner. In the end, to settle the quandary, Guy tilted his head in a courteous bow.
Philip's eyes turned in Allan's direction, "And you?"
Allan grinned, "Allan A Dale."
"Philip."
Guy raised up the coat he held, "I see they found this. Hopefully you got some use out of it." He knew that he shouldn't say such a thing to begin with - especially with Allan present. The Lord above knew that Allan would think he was growing soft. Sure enough when he turned to look at him, Allan had an amused expression on his face. He discontinued it soon enough when Guy snarled in his direction. It did give him a slight feeling of triumph in proving that he did not harm the boy as had been Allan's fallacious assumption.
Despite the pleasant warmth that it had provided him - Philip still hadn't gotten that much sleep. However, that was more due to anxiety and righteous indignation than being cold. He nodded.
Guy's face was grim as he reached in through the bars and handed Philip a flask he had brought with him. He watched as the boy gulped greedily at the water. "Don't drown yourself," he said, reaching in and taking the flask back. Philip's expression entertained him - and he was sure that if the child had been a caged beast, he would have bitten his fingers clean off.
"Aw - common Giz. Give it back - will ya?"
Guy gave Allan a withering look before handing the flask back with a warning, "Take it slower."
Philip did as he was bid and drank at a calmer pace, unwilling to risk losing the water again. He did steadily creep away - taking the precious liquid as he went. He never thought that he would see the day when he tried to hoard water. He suddenly felt worthless - like he was unworthy to be descended from a king.
"You won't have the coat tonight."
Philip looked up, using his dirty, stained sleeve to wipe his mouth. Sir Guy's words came as no surprise to him - he hadn't expected that he would. He considered asking what the Sheriff would do to him for his kindness but decided against it. It still bothered him to care about his captors and he refused at this moment to show them that he did.
Without his realizing it, the water was soon drained. He tilted it high up above his head to secure the last remaining drops. Reluctantly he retraced his steps over to the bars and handed it back to Sir Guy. At least he'd had some water, he could survive without food. He knew of a soldier who had lived seven days without provisions and survived. He would not concern himself with eating right now.
Philip leaned against the wall, he still felt unsteady and needed to support himself. He looked Allan over, "I wouldn't turn my back on Spencer if I were you."
Allan chuckled, "Wouldn't you now?"
"He says things. About both of you."
"Prob'ly nothing I 'aven't heard." Allan looked at him before he spoke next, "He say anything to try an' scare you?" It didn't take much for him to picture Sir Spencer taunting a child who was scarce more than eleven.
Philip shrugged nonchalantly, "Empty pots make the most noise."
It took Allan a moment before he started laughing and Guy elbowed him hard to quiet him. "Oi, Giz - I like 'im!"
Guy rolled his eyes. "You can always pick yourself up a homeless waif the next time we're in London."
Allan leaned backwards, "Me - a father? Why? You think I'd be good at it?"
"I think you'd be able to relate quite well to any child in your company." Guy had no scruples about shattering the pleased look that had overtaken Allan's face. "We need to leave," they had been down here far too long and Guy was certain that the Sheriff was well aware of that. The longer he stayed here with the boy the more harm it would cause all of them.
"Sir Guy," Philip said in a brief goodbye. "Sir Allan."
Guy scoffed, "He's no knight."
Secretly pleased, Allan said, "Do ya think it's a good idea to be correct'in the King's own son? If he wants ta call me 'Sir Allan' - well let 'im why don't ya."
Philip glanced between the two of them - bickering. If circumstances had been vastly different, he would have found their banter rather amusing. Nevertheless, the situation being as it was - him in a dungeon and them his captors - he could only prevent his lips from twitching. His humor was slightly put off by the experience to say the least.
Guy looked at Philip one final time before turning and walking down the dark hall. Allan sneaked a peek behind him turning to Philip once again. He offered a weak smile bordering on a grimace and did the only thing that had been of any comfort to him these past few days. He reached in-between the bars and set his hand upon Philip's arm, "Good luck."
The supposed phrase of encouragement only served to make the young lad gulp hard. All his own words were stuck in his throat, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't choke them out. He gave a swift movement of his head to indicate he heard what Allan had said.
As he watched Allan disappear into the darkness and listened as they climbed the stairs, he hung his head. He was going to need all the luck he could get…
Marian was starting to feel somewhat better by the afternoon. She tried to keep her mind busy with other matters and avoided thinking about Guy as much as possible.
Her father was in far better spirits than he had been. At least he was safe throughout all this. Her turmoil was not his. She wanted to keep it that way - leave him in the dark - but as she picked and poked at her luncheon, he knew something was amiss.
When he asked her what was the matter she brushed past it. "I'm fine, Father. Really."
"You were out of sorts yesterday as well. I'll - I'll tell Sir Guy - he can send for the healer."
Marian held up a hand in a quick protest, "No. I'm quite well. I was only tired the other day."
"And today?"
Her lips were tight, "Recovering."
She knew that he didn't believe her, his discerning eyes told her all that she needed to know. He did not question her further and for that, she was more than grateful. She couldn't face Guy and be forced to confess to him that she was sick over the lie she had told him. That she had been consorting with his worst enemy. Though in truth, Marian couldn't be so sure that his worst enemy wasn't the Sheriff…
Allan felt useless at the castle. Nothing interesting or worthwhile was going on. He strummed his fingers noiselessly on his leg while he watched the Sheriff, Prince John, Spencer and Guy. None of whom were doing anything besides quietly talking amongst themselves. Yes - he concluded, his time would be far better spent at the Trip… Had he been actually paying attention to what they said he might not have felt that way.
One word did manage to pique his interest - Hood. They were talking about Robin. If Allan A Dale was a different man, he would have recalled the hurt and anger of last night and been more than willing to launch himself into the conversation and sell out his former friend. However, Allan was not that type and the words only made him curious. He decided to pay closer attention rather than pining away for the sticky seats at the tavern.
"Well it's obvious they know about the boy," Sir Spencer said, his arms were laid over his chest and he was leaning back in his chair with his legs jutting out across the floor, crossed at the ankles.
Guy looked to the ceiling, "Obviously."
Allan didn't miss Spencer's hand lovingly caress the hilt of his sword and he was sure that if he saw it, so did Guy. Allan leaned into the circle of men as discreetly as possible.
Prince John spoke next, "We know that. But how does he know about him?" He took a lengthy drink from his goblet before continuing, "Surely he hasn't met my brother's brat. So who told him?"
Vaisey was staring blatantly at Guy. "Maybe your new sergeant has toddled along in the footsteps of the former one? Humm?" He walked two of his fingers across the palm of his hand for emphasis.
"There wasn't time to breathe a word of this to anyone," Guy said. "The only-" Guy bit his tongue - he would not incriminate Allan regardless of whether or not he had ran off to Hood the night before. There was no need, no one would suspect him - for the Sheriff himself was the one who included him in this pertinent information.
However, the other feeling that he had been smothering all day was being freed. Marian knew… He grimaced slightly before he realized what he was about but Vaisey had already caught it.
The Sheriff waved his hand in a circular motion through the air, "The only… What?"
Guy pressed his teeth together so firmly that they hurt. He couldn't implicate Marian either. By God, he would not put her at risk! Nor would he lay the blame on Allan to cover his wife's possible disloyalty. His leg twitched in his desire to get up and pace, he firmly pressed his hand into the flesh to steady it. "The only ones you told are sitting here." Deciding to make the most of his dilemma he gave Spencer a sideways glance, "Unless Sir Spencer has been wagging his tongue."
Insulted, Spencer stood quickly, causing his chair to clatter loudly on the stone floor as it was knocked over. Fortunately, there was no room for him to draw his sword without slicing a few hairs off the Sheriff - who didn't have any to spare anyway…
Prince John motioned him to sit down, "Temper. No one is saying it is any of you. Though it has to be." His voice was almost a whine as he became more impassioned. He pressed his fingers into his chest, "I certainly didn't tell anyone."
Clearing his throat with a cough, Allan broke into the discussion, "Wha' about your guards?" All eyes were suddenly upon him. Allan swallowed but remained steady. Guy's face plainly told him who he suspected and Allan felt obligated to help him and Marian out. He never bothered to consider that Guy could possibly think it might be him…
Prince John nodded slowly while he took in this new perspective and then with a wave of his hand ordered, "Have them executed."
Allan choked.
Once more, Guy looked to the cobwebs hanging off the ceiling for advice - they were the most honest counselors he had lately… He tried to see if, by some miracle, this would all turn out to be a nightmare. Nevertheless, while it was a nightmare it was not the kind that Guy wished it were. He turned to Allan and shook his head, warning him to keep quiet. There was nothing left to say.
A conflicted look moved across Allan's face and he pressed a fist to his mouth. Guilt tore through every inch of him. Why hadn't he continued in blissful ignorance? Why had he opened up his mouth? His initial word came out as a stutter while he gathered his thoughts, "Th-that's all well an' good but really, who would they tell? Not as though they 'ad time." He hoped that the Prince wouldn't disregard his borrowed argument.
While Prince John considered his words, Allan continued, "'Sides - you'll want your guards with ya on the trip 'ome." He held his breath while the Prince thought.
With a nod of his head, Prince John decided to let them live - there wouldn't be time to properly gather new guards. Allan let his breath go. Oh Lord.
When Guy entered Locksley that evening, he planned to walk upstairs, fall into bed with a flask of mind numbing wine and recover from the day. He didn't expect to find Edward waiting for him at the door. Guy's forehead creased deeply, "Edward?"
He hesitated and Guy looked pointedly at Allan. The latter stalked off, miffed that he was not to be included in this conversation also. It wasn't as if he could get anyone killed now! Much had told him to jigger off before - he could take a hint…
Guy returned his attention to Edward, "What's the matter?" He could feel a headache coming on.
His father-in-law's eyes did a sweep about the room making certain they were well and truly alone. "It's Marian."
Guy's face softened, "Is she all right?"
"I don't know. She was unwell yesterday and I am certain that she felt ill today as well."
"Do you think it is serious?" Guy didn't hide his concern - the words he gave were solemn.
Edward shook his head, "I can't be sure. She refuses to talk to me about it."
"I'll speak to her," Guy said and started past him.
The older man reached out and caught Guy by the elbow, "Don't. I - I don't want her to think she can't trust me."
Guy fixed his stare on him, "So - she keeps secrets from you too?"
Edward faltered; he didn't know how to respond to that without laying blame on his own child. Guy looked away from him and turned his gaze toward the stairs, "At least I'm not the only one." His shoulders were low and he frowned, "If she is unwell tomorrow I'll send for the healer." That bit of assurance would have to do for the time being.
Guy felt uneasy as he entered their chamber after his lethargic trudge up the stairs; Marian was staring out the window. She had been hopelessly trying to keep her mind on more pleasant topics than her current situation. Her stomach had settled somewhat and she didn't feel like allowing her thoughts to return it to its former state of turmoil.
Guy came to stand behind her, he wanted to test her out - to see if she felt as poorly as Edward suggested, "It's a fine evening for a ride."
Marian nodded her head, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground below the window's ledge, "It is."
He ran a finger down her arm and examined her shoulder intently, "I was thinking of taking one. Will you join me?" He still wasn't looking at her but instead at the strands of her hair his fingers unexpectedly found themselves fondling.
Marian was quick to consider everything. Was this simple pleasure worth the risk of her feeling ill again? Would she be able to control her guilty conscience long enough to ride with him? She made her decision without anymore delay. Chin held up she turned around and faced Guy, "Yes, I will."
Guy felt a measure of relief when she agreed to his proposal. She was not seriously sick. "Good. I'll have the horses readied." He did feel a slight tremor of worry - he hoped that Hood would not cross their path. For the briefest instant, he had an image of Marian leaving him standing alone on the forest trail - leaving him for Robin Hood. Once she'd been betrothed to him and he knew from experience that even when a betrothal is broken the feelings don't abate instantly. Even more so, she was recently connected to him as the Night Watchman - what was to stop her leaving besides their hasty marriage? Added to all this was the knowledge that his enemy had been lurking about recently. He regretted his suggestion no sooner than she had accepted. However, he did remember that she told him of her own free will that she would not break her wedding vow to him. Guy of Gisborne was not a man that gave his trust willingly but here again, he found himself blindly handing it over to her - a woman who, he kept discovering, he didn't really know…
They milled around Locksley for a time but Guy could plainly see that Marian was restless. She wanted to gallop - she wanted to run. "We can ride to Nottingham," he said with finality. He wanted to keep her as far away from Hood as possible.
"What is the point of this if I can't stretch her legs?"
"Going to Nottingham will give her plenty of time for that." Though Guy couldn't quite be sure if he was speaking of the horse or his wife…
"The road is dull and confined," Marian said holding her horse back a few paces in order to give Guy time to catch up. "She wants to be free."
"She does not know what she wants." Again he was unsure of whom they were speaking. "She will be just as happy on the road as in Sherwood." When he said 'Sherwood' he knew without a doubt that was where she would rather be. He wondered to himself whether or not she had caught that… Would she address it?
Marian huffed in her irritation and Guy wished he could seek out the recently familiar cobwebs without being discourteous to his wife. Alas! The open sky was quite devoid of those glistening strands this day. What softened Guy's brooding mood and caused him to laugh quietly, was when her mount snorted as if expressing her distaste as well.
Marian had just been getting ready to say something back to him but she stopped short at his almost silent sound of merriment. She knew she was doing something she would regret later. She had to ask herself why she would risk spoiling the moment. Grudgingly she let his wishes be and rode next to him on the way to Nottingham. She also wanted wholeheartedly to deny the fact that it was Sherwood she would rather be wandering through - but she refused to tell him another lie…
Guy gently placed his hand on Marian's back, "Marian? Wake up."
She groaned. She had been awake for a while in fact but she was praying that he would think she was sleeping and let her alone. She felt ill again. She had felt sick when she had gone to bed despite the actually pleasant evening she and Guy had shared. It had eased sometime in the night but then returned to wake her from a peaceful slumber.
Marian didn't even know why Guy was trying to wake her. He didn't need her - being more than capable of dressing himself… She batted his hand away - couldn't he just leave her be? "I'm tired," she said, the exasperation apparent in her voice. Her mouth was watering heavily and her stomach writhed. Feeling like someone was pouring the contents of a well into her mouth, she swallowed hard and pressed her lips firmly shut to keep the water from spilling out.
Guy could see plainly that Marian was ailing and it unnerved him. Edward had been right. "I'm taking you to the healer."
Marian thrashed her head back and forth against the pillow, "No." While she felt something was further amiss than the remorse she felt, she was not ready to disclose how she was feeling to anyone. She started to sit up, to prove that she was better than he presumed but found herself suddenly horizontal again - the room spun. The reason for this unanticipated bout of vertigo was that Guy had taken hold of her, pulled her into his arms, and lifted her out of the bed.
Marian kicked out in an effort to free herself, ignoring the blanket that was fighting against her. She would have succeeded had Guy not been ready for her. He grabbed her legs, pulled them together, and secured them under his arm. She cursed the fact that he knew she was the Night Watchman and able to escape him. He used his strength to his advantage and though Marian knew it was possible to break away from him, she didn't wish to harm him. Had he been an actual adversary she would have used her unbound hands to wreak havoc on his facial features. Nonetheless she considered using the tactic on him regardless.
Guy carried her down the stairs and to the stable where his horse stood, saddled and waiting. Allan, who was also waiting, had been there since dawn's break at Guy's bidding. His eyes widened when he saw Guy carry Marian in, making no attempt to place her on the ground.
"Put me down!" Marian yelled directly at her husband's face.
If Guy didn't have his arms securely around her, he would have felt forced to rub his assaulted ear. He ignored her, "Allan ride to the castle - inform the Sheriff that I'll be in late." Awkwardly, Guy lifted Marian onto the saddle and Allan's eyes grew wider still when he saw that she was in her nightclothes… A savage look from Guy informed him that he should promptly discontinue his evaluation.
Quickly Marian scooted to the back of the saddle - she was not about to be forced into the same embarrassing situation as she had been placed when Guy first rescued her from Winchester. Without comment, Guy climbed into the saddle as well and in his rush clumsily extended the blanket that had been around her moments ago, "Cover yourself with that."
"I wouldn't need to cover myself if you hadn't wrestled me out of my bed!" She snatched the blanket from his outstretched hand and felt a rush of nausea sweep over her. It was all she could do to keep from retching.
Guy sighed and gave Allan yet another stern glare. The gawking man didn't need a third warning. This was not his concern. He led his steed out of the barn before mounting and turning in the direction of Nottingham. Allan couldn't help the growing feeling of dread that was building up inside of him - how would the Sheriff take the news and what would he do to him? At times, the messenger was worse off than the actual culprit…
"I don't need to see a healer!" Marian said once more. Guy had lost track of how many times she had spoken those very words. He growled, trying hard to stay calm and kept his eyes focused straight ahead.
"You're unwell," was his only response. Guy ran his hand down his face as if smoothing out the rumpled places. He felt her arms around him and that only served to increase his worry - a reminder that she was his responsibility, that he had sworn to God he would protect her. He couldn't help but remember his own brush with death just a short time ago. Although he was sure no one poisoned her, he still was anxious over what was causing her ailment.
Guy banged on the door, "Open up!"
He heard rustling coming from inside but no one answered. He jerked his head upwards and glared at the sky before slamming his fist against the wood a second time. "I said open the door!"
Again, there was no response. "Are you deaf?" he yelled, pulling hard on the door handle. However, while the door was old and dilapidated looking, it held firm. He raised his hand, fully intending to beat the infernal thing down, when it creaked open slowly.
By this time, Guy was beyond furious and it plainly showed on his face. "What took you so bloody long?"
The healer didn't give comment to his demanding tone, "What do you need?"
Her simple reply further aggravated Guy, "My wife, Lady Gisborne, is unwell. You'll see to her."
She shrugged, "Sorry. Not taking new customers." She started to close the door blatantly in his face.
Guy grabbed the handle and shoved his foot into the crack that was growing increasingly smaller. "You will see her."
She shook her head at him and yanked back on the handle.
"Is my money not good enough?"
"Oh - so you intend to pay for my services."
Guy's face twisted dangerously. "Yes," was the only word he was able to grind out.
"By all means, bring her in."
Guy stormed over to his horse where Marian remained seated. He held up his arms so that she could slide into them with ease, he didn't feel that it would be proper to let her dismount by herself.
Marian crossed her arms in defiance, pulling the blanket closer to her and turned her head away from him. She was refusing to come down. Guy seethed.
"Get down."
"No. I'm quite well now." In fact, she did feel fine. Her insides had settled themselves during the ride and that was the end of it as far as she was concerned. It wouldn't surprise her to feel sick again later on during the day but she would deal with that when it came. She had a strong feeling that at least some of her illness came from her shame and she was not about to confess that to anyone.
Guy sighed, "Last chance. Get off the horse." He waited patiently for her to come and when she didn't, he shook his head and gave a small, sardonic smile. Before Marian knew what hit her, Guy had taken hold of her foot and her arm, pulling her from her seat and into his grasp.
She kicked at him as he set her down and her foot found its mark, connecting with his shin. She didn't care if she hurt him this time - she was too angry with him and decided he deserved it. Guy cursed into her ear but he also was aware that she wasn't as aggressive as she could be. She was taking it easy on him. That thought in itself made him livid so he quickly pushed it aside.
Guy physically guided her to the entrance of the healer's shanty. Marian let out an angry sound as he pushed her inside. Following her, he leaned against a beam that stuck sloppily out of the wall and waited. He eyed the healer and used his head to motion her to care for his wife.
He took in the small room - chair, table, and bed were so disorderly that they couldn't possibly be used. The only thing that appeared to be tended to was the fireplace which had a steaming pot looming over it. He didn't even want to know what concoction was bubbling inside. Allan had confessed to him that he suspected this woman of some sort of witchcraft or devil's magic and despite having dismissed those idiotic assumptions at the time, Guy was unsure now.
Another thing that he couldn't help but notice was the smell. It was pungent. It was so foul that he would know where to look if any castle guards came up missing. He would probably find them buried under this ghastly clutter, with pieces and parts misplaced. His curiosity was getting the better of him and he wondered what he would uncover if he did make a search of the house. He was truly considering it until the very healer he was paying, shoved him on the arm and told him to leave.
Guy was taken aback - her nerve was unreal.
"I'll see her privately."
"I'm not leaving," Guy said, placing his feet firmer into the dust and debris littering the floor. Push as she might that woman was no match for him. Besides wanting to know what was wrong with his wife, Guy did not think it was wise to let her alone with this odd woman.
Marian locked eyes with him, "Just go, Guy. I'll be fine."
He hesitated before she said more forcefully, "I want you to go!" He made sure to slam the door on his way out - was it his fault that she was ungrateful? His careless disregard caused several of the balancing containers holding plants and salves to teeter and jangle together.
Sulkily Guy leaned against the thin walls of the little house; perchance he would hear some of the goings on… He wore a pronounced frown as he stood and waited. Although his body was still, his mind was very much active as countless scenarios rattled through his head. He crossed his arms tightly and let his chin droop to his chest. Strain as he might, he couldn't hear what they said and that unnerved him all the more.
The healer prodded information out of Marian the best she could when the latter was not forthcoming. Finally, she told Marian that she couldn't care a scrap about what was wrong with her and that she could just sit and rot for all she was concerned. Despite the disrespectful words that were just uttered to her, Marian had to bite back a laugh. She had to wonder - were all herbalists this way?
Slowly but surely, Marian began to relate in the briefest of detail what her symptoms were. When she was through, the healer nodded gravely, "Nothing to do but wait."
Marian looked quizzical. "Wait for what?"
Shaking her head the woman chuckled at her patient, "Are you daft?"
"Daft? How dare you!" Marian said, not smiling anymore. What had she done that she deserved to be treated thus?
The herbalist shook her head, "Didn't you watch the signs?"
"Signs? I don't understand?"
"Didn't your mother teach you anything?"
This woman apparently didn't care to make herself aware of the lives of the nobility, "I lost her when I was very young."
"Ah - more's the shame. But surely when you missed your menses you knew."
Marian's eyes rounded and her chest felt as though it would smother her heart. Her hands involuntarily clutched at the blanket carefully wrapped about her arms. Oh dear God above…
The return to Locksley was icy. Marian sat behind Guy with her arms lightly around him for support but she was silent. Guy's mood was dark - she hadn't offered the slightest bit of information since she had come out of the healer's. Long-suffering as he was attempting to be, he was getting angry. She had no right to keep this information from him! It was his God given due for her to tell him.
Finally he lost his tolerance for her mute tongue, "What?" When she made no effort to respond to his query Guy ordered, "Tell me what she said."
"I'll tell you when I please!" Marian said to his back.
Guy pulled the horse to a sudden stop, "You'll tell me when I say you will."
She gritted her teeth and remained quiet. Scowling, Guy gently nudged the horse spurring it forwards, he was trying to be as pleasant with his mount as possible - it did not deserve his wrath. His wife on the other hand…
What was she supposed to tell him? Marian was not embarrassed to be with child, even if it was testimony to the intimacy they shared. It was not that. She didn't know how to tell him - she had always pictured herself telling Robin… She thought it somewhat shameful now and knew that if any over-zealous man of God found out about her impure thoughts it could very well be the bell, book, and candle for her.
She knew she couldn't keep this from him forever. He was bound to find out sooner or later. She wondered how he would respond, what he would say. Surely this would please him. Guy didn't seem the type of man to balk at the thought of having fathered a child. No doubt he would puff up like a crowing rooster and strut throughout the shire. Everyone would know before the week was out that Guy of Gisborne had produced an heir - whether or not the child was male.
They rode in silence for some moments more before Marian took a deep breath and spoke again - it was now or never and the latter was impossible. What she said almost made Guy fall off his horse, "I'm with child."
It might have been the matter-of-fact way in which she said it, or that she said it quickly and suddenly. It is possible that, after her initial refusal to disclose any information to him whatsoever, he was unprepared for her cooperation on any level. It could have simply been the words themselves. No matter the cause, Sir Guy of Gisborne was rendered speechless.
He had heard those words before and the memory associated with them was an unpleasant one. He felt something sharp in his midriff but ignored it; this was not the same situation and could not be treated as such. He noted that he had not taken a breath since she had spoken and he inhaled deeply.
Guy was unsure himself what to think of the situation. It was a given that all men wanted heirs. They wanted to show off their prowess and enable their name and the name of their forefathers to live on through a child. A son. Without question, he knew he wanted this and more. But it was the state of affairs, the circumstances, the timing that made this announcement a thing of worry and uncertainty.
He remembered how Vaisey had behaved around him after he had learned of his fathering an illegitimate child with a serving girl. The taunting and tormenting had gone on far too long. He could only hope this time it would be different, though he seriously doubted it. The Sheriff could find a way to twist and turn even the most joyous of things… Guy felt very tired, it felt as if all of England rested upon his shoulders and he remained silent much to the confusion and unease of his wife.
Wearily, Guy followed Marian back to their chamber. He removed a glove and rubbed his head vigorously. Besides his own thoughts and worries something else was weighing upon him - how did Marian feel about the babe? She hadn't offered any thoughts, any expressions from the heart. He thought this while avoiding the fact that he hadn't even spoken since she told him - he didn't know what to say to her. Did she hate carrying his child? No. That could not be. It was her child as well and no mother ever hated her own baby. Furthermore, she did not hate him so it seemed - but did she want this?
It was yet another thing to take away her independence. A baby would force her to remain at home to care for it - it would force her to remain safe. That thought made his face soften but he quickly covered over it lest she require a reason from him.
The very thought that pleased him, might grieve her. The baby could be a nuisance and a hindrance if it meant she couldn't do as she wanted. His child might be a bother to her and the reflection was sobering. He sighed - he didn't want to think on this anymore, "I'm needed at the castle. Rest." He gave his first and last words to her without even an acknowledgment of her announcement.
Once Guy was gone, Marian sat tensely at the edge of the bed, then quickly stood and covered the distance of the room again and again. Her shock was visible. She could not believe Guy's actions - or lack thereof. Had he even been listening? She had spoken loudly enough. He had to have heard!
She knew of men who completely ignored their children, considering them pests and nuisances - only something to show off and produce whenever the mood struck them. It hurt her to think that he might be as uncaring and indifferent as they - particularly since he had told her before that wouldn't be the case. For all his faults, she had hoped for more from him.
Guy's indifference changed her outlook. Though the news of a baby came as a surprise it was not necessarily an unwelcome one. Now, though, it seemed an overwhelming complication. How could she have a child now? The answer was that she couldn't. Not when there was a chance that the man she was married to, could hang as a traitor to the crown. Not when the father of her child might kill another man's son. Not when Robin was still coming to her window like he did as a boy. How could she face him while she carried Guy's child?
She felt like screaming or crying. So many things had swiftly blackened what should have been a happy occasion. He hadn't even stayed, let alone said one thing about his child. She knew she was partially to blame for not willingly disclosing the news to him but that didn't excuse his actions.
She needed to talk to someone who would care. Notwithstanding the fact that it was her husband's responsibility she was unwilling to wait on him any longer. On that note Marian ceased her strides and angrily retrieved Robin's neckerchief, letting the shield slam hard against the wall in her fury. Roughly, she tied it to the shutter and waited, running the back of her hand over her eyes when the tears threatened to spill out and onto her burning cheeks.
Allan was standing alone in the corridor when Guy found him. "Well?" Gisborne asked, hoping that the Sheriff had been gracious but knowing truthfully that would not be the case.
Allan shook his head, "'E's angry. I'd get in there if I were you and then right back out."
Stiffly Guy did just that. Sheriff Vaisey was standing with his back to him. Guy spoke, snapping the silence like an ill-fated branch, "Milord?"
Slowly Vaisey turned about and walked in his direction, arms folded behind him. "Gisborne. How pleasant to see you," he smiled sharply, all his teeth showing in a perfect flash of white.
Guy found Allan where he had left him and hoped that his face didn't betray him. He rubbed his shoulder - he didn't know a chamberstick could be so brutal...
"How's Marian?" Allan asked, falling into step next to Guy.
Guy remained silent, unable to put the state of affairs into words. His wife's delicate condition was not a conversation that he ever wished to have with A Dale.
Allan continued talking, seemingly oblivious to Guy's agitation, "Sure seemed worried 'bout her this morning. I bet you were sweating like a pregnant nun."
Guy stopped abruptly and stared horrified at Allan before shaking his head at him. What a dreadful comparison… Especially given the circumstances surrounding his use of it. He was sure even the devil had a higher code of speaking than that. He did, however, recall that Allan himself had claimed to be good with nuns. Darkly he wondered how many had been sweating after they had encountered him on a lonely eve.
Continuing his fast pace, Guy turned the corner and there stood Spencer blocking their way purposefully. Sir Spencer leered at them before leisurely walking forward, "I saw you gave that brat your coat. Pity. I'd thought slightly more of you."
Guy crossed his arms and didn't bother trying to hide his contempt. "Did you?" He chuckled, "You're the better man then, Spencer. I never thought anything of you."
Spencer looked down and grinned mockingly, seemingly unconcerned with the insult. He shook his head slightly, "You know, Gisborne, you're weak. Having sympathy for someone you know is going to die is the most pathetic thing I can imagine. You don't have the courage to harden your heart."
Allan spoke up just when Guy wished that he would have the sense enough to be quiet, "Well a' least he's got one."
Guy was unsure if he appreciated Allan's words or resented them. He didn't want anyone to picture a coddled child when they thought of the name Guy of Gisborne. Since his return to Nottingham, his name had been a symbol of respect. He didn't want to lose that. He wanted deference, he wanted fear and all that seemed to be slipping through his fingers at this very moment. The Sheriff had said as much and now here was Spencer reconfirming it.
These feelings did somewhat baffle him, for he also didn't want his humanity to vanish completely. He didn't wish to turn into the Sheriff, a man who plagued him. Even as he sought Vaisey's approval, he despised him. He wanted his wife's support more it seemed…
Spencer rolled his eyes, "No one asked your opinion, worm." He turned back to Guy without another word to Allan. "I almost hope that you're forced to kill the boy - then you'll have to see that your compassion was useless. Then again, you'll give the bastard a quick death - shameful as that might be. If I'm called upon," he gave a quiet, unnerving laugh, "If I'm called upon, to serve the Prince, I'll give him what he wants."
Guy's jaw went rigid, "And what's that?"
Spencer locked an unwavering gaze onto him, "A show."
Allan wanted to be sick. It revolted him to think that they would make an exhibit of the child's suffering. That witty, spirited lad. And he thought that he was going to hell?
Spencer pushed past them as if they were the ones blocking the way, "Don't get attached."
Allan looked at Guy, who's eyes were steely - he tried to lighten the mood, "Ya know lots a' people make others happy when they go into a room. Spencer, he makes people happy when he leaves." He glanced sideways at Guy who remained expressionless. He tried again, "I think it's gutsy."
Guy turned to him, his face unchanged and Allan wasn't sure if his thoughts were still on Spencer or had traveled not too distantly to him, "What?" It came out as a bark and Allan held back a flinch.
"You do 'ave a lot of courage. You know that boy's gonna die and you're still riskin' all you got ta' show him kindness."
Guy shook his head and the sneer he was holding fell off, "That's not kindness - it's pity."
"Either way - it's more than 'e has."
"Wasn't it the other day that you accused me of being heartless?"
Sheepishly, Allan gave a shrug of his shoulders, "Must 'ave me mistaken for someone else."
Guy didn't say anything in response to Allan's comment - he was too absorbed in his own thoughts. Guy knew at that moment that he was going to be damned without hope of a reprieve. When the time came - he was going to kill Philip. This impulsive decision did not spring forth from any malice or desire to do the lad injury but it came from what Spencer had said. Guy had to admit that he had been right on one head - the method of execution Guy would employ was sure to be quick… That was all Philip could ask for now.
"I need you to go to Locksley and look in on Marian."
Allan looked startled, "That bad?"
"No," Guy said, letting out a sharp breath, "I left her under poor circumstances."
"Wha' of it?"
"She told me something I should have been glad to know."
Allan straightened his vest with one hand and ran the other through his hair, "What did you say?"
Guy pinched the bridge of his nose, "Nothing."
Allan took a step back and held up his hands, "I already covered for ya' with the Sheriff," he gestured in Vaisey's general direction, "I'm not gonna risk my neck twice."
Guy growled and turned to go. "I'll do it myself."
"But Master - we have to get back to camp! They're expecting us soon," Much said, shifting from foot to foot while Robin tested his grip on the trellis ascending to the master bedchamber in Locksley.
"Marian might have heard something about the King's son," Robin said with a grunt as he pulled himself off the ground.
"Shouldn't we wait and bring the others? What if it's a trap?"
"Set by Marian?" Robin craned his head to look down at Much, his mouth agape.
"No. No. By Gisborne."
"Gisborne doesn't know this signal." Robin got his rhythm and began scaling the trellis much faster, leaving Much below. Robin was sure his friend would be considering all that could go awry - foolish as those thoughts might be. He didn't intend to let a little anxiety dissuade him - he was going to see Marian.
Once he reached the top, he balanced precariously with one hand and tapped on the side of the window to proclaim his presence. Marian poked her head out and looked down at him. Robin grinned up at her, "You called?"
Marian gave him a solemn nod and stood aside so he could finish climbing in. He stretched his back when he was on solid ground. "Are you alright?"
"I am with child." There - she had said it. No lies. No half-truths. No hesitation - she refused to make the same mistake twice. Unlike her husband, Robin would be forced to acknowledge her.
Robin felt his jaw go slack before it tensed. He blinked, unable to grasp the full meaning of her words - unable to comprehend what she said. "Child?" Repeating the word pounded it into his body. She was with child - Guy's child? His enemy's child? A bitter taste filled his mouth and his lungs felt like rocks. The woman who should have been his was bringing his rival's child into the world. The woman he loved. The child should have be his…
Despite trying to keep her wishes - Robin wanted so badly to end this. Take Marian as his wife - raise her child as his own. That was impossible and he knew it too well. She wouldn't let him - her promise came first. While he didn't mind placing below the Creator in her dealings - it angered him that he ranked below Gisborne. His heart felt cold and dead as he looked at her. Everything he wanted, desired, and hoped for was dangling in the sour, illicit possession of another man.
"That's," Robin swallowed to keep his voice steady when all it really wanted to do was shatter. "Wonderful, Marian." He felt his eyes prickle. Privately - wrong as it might have been - he used to imagine her speaking those words to him. Now she was - and it cut him so deeply he didn't think he would ever recover. Those dreams were nothing more than the ghosts of past wishes.
"How can I have his child when he's going to kill that boy, Robin? How?" She looked at him intently, "I don't think I could forgive him." There was more to it than that but that is all she wanted him to hear for now. She would not disclose all of Guy's faults to Robin.
Sharply, Robin bit back the stinging comment he felt well up into his bosom, how could you forgive his other crimes against the throne and the poor of Nottingham? Against me? Instead, he tried again, "Marian - you don't have to do this alone. Come with me. I'll protect you and the baby. He's not worthy of you." Hesitating, Robin reached his hands over and laid them upon her shoulders. He felt them slump beneath his touch - was her resolve weakening?
Marian reached up and covered his hands with hers before shaking her head slowly but resolutely.
Robin felt his life's blood pour to the ground. His mouth felt dryer than dirt and his tongue stuck to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He nodded gravely and tried to keep calm. There was nothing he could say to cover over the renewed pain he felt at losing her.
As they stood there, his hands on her shoulders and hers laid across his, the door opened suddenly. They hadn't even heard the steps creak. Simultaneously the two turned and there, stone still in the doorway, stood Guy of Gisborne.
And though initially Guy's eyes were expressionless with astonishment, they grew wide and Robin could see every emotion reflected in them. In the same moment, Gisborne's face fell and with a panicked, almost wild countenance, he fled from the room…
A/N Hi everyone. Sorry for the long delay. I hope the length of the chapter made up for it… I am certain you will know never to trust me again when I say the next chapter will be up soon and I am sure that I have lost a few readers due to the amount of time between updates. But it has been a really busy summer.
My Grandpa just had surgery (he is fine by the way) and things have just been - well, as I said - busy… :o) It seems that by the time I actually have time to write I am too exhausted to do it… But anyway - enough about me. I do hope that you didn't think that I was quitting/forgetting about/ignoring "Humanity." That is something I promise to NEVER do. This story will be finished or I will die typing at four in the morning. :o)
This is the longest chapter so far - almost twelve thousand words.
I'd like to thank the anonymous readers and those that I can't PM. I really appreciate your continued support.
I do hope that the story is moving a little better. I left you with a cliffhanger. Enjoy. *evil grin* I hope that everyone was in character. You know I worry about these things. Guy and Marian were not expecting to be expecting. ;) I hope that I conveyed that in a believable fashion… Take care, dear readers!