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When she heard Will speak those words out loud Djaq crumbled. Her thin shoulders began shaking with the sobs hitching in her throat as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Hearing someone else, especially Will, state her ordeal in such a simple way made it all the more real. It was no longer something she could just try and hide away and pretend it never happened. Someone else knew what had occurred on that night.
Eventually the barrier that she had been desperately trying to sustain broke and the tears flowed through like a river. They just wouldn't stop.
Once Will had said the words he wasn't quite sure whether they were true, however, when he saw Djaq's strong posture dissolve before him he knew it was. Djaq had been….raped. The reality of it hit him like a ton of bricks and it was a moment before he realised that the young Saracen woman was crying. The distressed sobs broke his heart and he moved towards Djaq hoping that this time she wouldn't push him away.
She didn't. Will wrapped his arms around her small frame and enveloped her in a tight, reassuring hug. He didn't pause to think about the fact he was embracing Djaq, the woman of his dreams. All he could think about was the horror this poor woman had endured and how it was obviously affecting her.
When he had lived in the village he remembered his father talking about some young lass that had been attacked and brutally taken against her will. He was about twelve at the time and barely understood what Dan meant before it was explained to him. His mother had been one of the women to go to her home and comfort her saying the best way for her to recover was to share her experience and unburden herself.
When she was gone Dan Scarlett had turned to his son and looked him straight in his young innocent eyes. "Young Will, I want you to promise me that you will never ever take a woman against her will. No matter how tempting it seems a woman has rights and she has to consent. Do you promise me?"
The preteen Will had looked up at his father, expression completely solemn and honest, and said, "I promise, Father."
Never in a million years had Will ever thought that Djaq could be a victim of such a disgusting crime. It had never crossed his mind that that could happen whilst she was out on her own whether it was shopping or looking for medicinal herbs and roots. Despite loving her dearly as a woman he still viewed her as one of the guys.
Remembering what his mother had said about a problem shared being a problem halved Will looked down at the shuddering woman in his arms and whispered very softly.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" His words snapped Djaq out of her weeping and she gazed up at him chestnut brown eyes wet with tears. She seemed to think about his question for a moment before nodding and taking a deep breath.
"I went into Locksley," she began ever so quietly, "To get some new boots. I bought them from that man, Jim, who lives in the centre of the village. After that though I had a little wander round the market and got distracted. By the time I started heading back to camp it was dark. Somewhere just past that inn, The Sheath and Sickle, I was attacked by someone. They came from behind me and I didn't hear them come. I struggled but he put a knife to my throat…" Djaq tailed off looking agitated but Will gave her an encouraging nod and a squeeze of the shoulders.
"Keep going, Djaq."
"…I stopped fighting and he led me into the forest. Then he told me to take off my clothes and…" Djaq shook her head. Despite wanting to open up to Will she still didn't feel comfortable telling him about the actual rape and it wasn't necessary for him to know the details. "At the end he said something like 'Thanks for that, dear, just what I needed. See you again sometime.' Then he smiled with those big rubbery lips and…"
When Will heard those words he saw red, blood red. How could a man from Locksley village be so inhuman? He thought the Sheriff was bad with all his evil schemes and methods of torture but to taunt a woman after taking her honour from her, that was plain immoral. He was filled with the same fury he had experienced when his father had been murdered.
"He won't do that to me again, will he?" Djaq shivered in his grip which only served to get the young carpenter angrier.
"Not if I can help it," he whispered under his breath.
"You won't tell the others?" the Saracen looked into his eyes with a pleading expression.
"Djaq," Will was brought from his murderous thoughts back to caring for the woman he loved, "I think it is better for them to know. Then they can understand and help you. You can't keep secrets this important from them. We are family."
"I know but…" Djaq looked up at the darkening sky, where had this day gone? "…I don't have to do it yet do I?"
"It would be better to do it sooner rather than later," Will stroked the top of her head just as he had wanted to earlier.
"Tomorrow?"
"Alright, tomorrow," Will nodded but didn't add 'Because that'll give me time to do what I need to do.'
The two returned to camp some time later when Djaq was sure she looked presentable enough not to be suspicious. When they arrived the woman immediately dived into assisting Much with the stew he was cooking whilst Will hung back with a deadened look in his eyes. Robin was the only one to notice the younger man's absent expression and emotionless eyes but quickly forgot about it when Much threw a ladle of water at him.
"Oi, lazybones, do you want carrots or cabbage in the stew tonight? You can't have both because we need some for tomorrow."
"Oh, carrots all the way my friend," Robin grinned turning to the former manservant.
"I need to meet someone. I'll be back later," a voice whispered quietly in his ear and the outlaw leader turned in time to see the disappearing back of Will Scarlett. Strange, he thought but then dismissed it in favour of getting revenge on Much.
The Sheath and Sickle Inn. Will read the battered old sign hanging dejectedly outside the drinking tavern. It swung feebly in the slight wind that was picking up and Will drew his hooded cloak closer to himself, seeking protection. He moved as silently as a shadow towards the rickety door that was hanging off its hinges, avoiding several peasants that had obviously spent their week's wages inside already as they were sprawled drunkenly on the ground.
Inside was a slightly musty but otherwise cheery atmosphere with dancing and drinking accompanied by a couple of men playing the lute and sickle in the corner. Will remembered coming her a few times to meet with informants on the Sheriff's dealings but he'd never been here on leisure alone. Being in an inn and drinking was quite a new concept to him. Still, he hadn't spent time with Allan for nothing, he could hold his alcohol.
Moving towards the counter of the bar Will ordered a bottle of ale and spilled a couple of coins onto the wooden surface to pay for the beverage. Once this was done he took a seat in the corner of the inn and watched the dancing with hawk-like eyes.
He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. He couldn't ask Djaq for a description as that would be both distressing for her and suspicious for him. All he had was rubbery lips and this inn. To find this crook he was going to have to use his initiative and get chatting to some people.
Looking at the crowd he picked out the most likely bunch. A group of youngish men who were already close to being completely pissed. Even if they didn't commit the crime they could be witnesses. Will moved in with the subtleness of a wolf and managed to merge himself within the group without much hassle.
"Hey mate, you're new around here ain't ya?" one guy spouted, droplets of ale dribbling down his chin.
"Na, he ain't new," another man stated, "He's been here the whooo-ooole time. Ain't ya boy?" He nudged Will in a friendly manner. The outlaw quirked an eyebrow at the untrue statement realising how far gone this man was. It could work to his advantage however.
"Yeah, I been here ages, mate," Will adopted a slightly drunk drawl and slapped the first man on the back, "Forgot your names though. What are they again?"
"Francis," the first peasant slurred and gulped his bottle of ale.
"Peter."
"Oh yeah."
"And what did you say your name was?" Peter asked dazedly.
"John," Will said drawing the most common name he could think of out of the air so he wouldn't be recognisable.
"I remember," Peter nodded grinning stupidly.
After about an hour of hanging around with the two drunken men Will decided he'd been sickened enough by the smell of their alcohol ridden breath and unfocused eyes and could now move on to a bit of careful interrogation.
"You come here often?" the outlaw asked Peter, the more out of it of the two.
"Uh-huh. I'd come everyday if I could afford it and the Missus didn't have a hissy fit every time I come back plastered."
"Were you here last night?"
"Er…yeah, me and Fran and Henry were here. Got a little extra at the market so we'd thought we'd celebrate."
"Did you um…" Will paused, wondering how to word the question, "See anything suspicious around?"
"Suspicious? You think…" Peter paused to hiccup, "I would see anything suspicious in this state, mate?"
"I guess not," Will sighed.
"Old Vincent over there may have though. He sees everything," Peter jerked a thumb in the direction of the back of the inn, "Why do you want to know anyway?"
"Oh, I just might have had something stolen here."
"Ooh, bad luck, you'll never get that back."
"Thanks. See you in a bit," the outlaw extricated himself from the crowd and headed to where Peter had pointed.
Upon arrival in the darkness of the back of The Sheath and Sickle Will spotted an elderly man curled up in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair. He had ragged features including long wild looking hair that was tangled all about his head and a bushy beard that looked like it had been growing for decades.
"Vincent?" Will queried apprehensively.
"Whose askin'?"
"Um…me…Sam…Hunter." The carpenter scrabbled to put a name together to make himself sound more real.
"You ain't no Sam. I know who you are. You're young William Scarlett, son and apprentice to the late Daniel Scarlett, master carpenter, and Jane Scarlett, wonderful woman. How's your brother?"
"Er…" Will was severely taken aback by the old man's knowledge of his family and his quick identification, "Fine. In Scarborough."
"Good. And what brings such a brave fellow such as yourself out of the depths of Sherwood and unaccompanied by Robin of Locksley's band of merry men," Vincent asked, sniggering at his own joke.
"I….well." In the end Will just decided the truth was the best course of action. "I'm looking for a man who was in here or near here late last night. He…um…attacked a friend of mine."
"A lady friend?" Vincent queried with a sad look in his eye.
"Yes."
"I know of the chap."
"You do?" Will's heart leapt into his throat.
"Nasty piece of work. Never been right since childhood. Used to scare my poor hound, Humbert, half to death with his dastardly tricks and mind games. I watched him grow up, always knew he'd be a wrong'un."
"Yes but who?"
"Adomar Fibbs."
"Who?"
"Short. Hairy. Horrible temper. In fact, he's that fellow just there," Vincent pointed over Will's head.
Will turned and, for the second time that day, saw red.
Ok, so that was a cliff hanger. Can I just say its really funny writing drunk people. :) And I quite like Vincent. He might feature again in this story or one of my others. Please review!