Wherein Sir Edward starts drafting early structure for the Magna Carta. Because I couldn't resist forming a plot, and apparently I have no chill.

Guest review: Thank you so much! I had a great time playing with these characters. The show was pleasant cotton candy for the brain, and while the characters were pleasantly flawed, their flaws drove me up the wall at times... hence, fic. :) And don't worry, this story is completed and I'm just posted here as I get the chance. Hope you enjoy the rest!

Edward of Knighton was dying. To be sure, it came as no surprise—he had outlived so many of his peers that he spoke with sons and nephews as often as he spoke with fathers now. Gray hair, and the temperance it tended to bring, was becoming a rarer sight at the council meetings.

The worst kept secret in England was that Prince John wished to be king, King Richard preferred a life of royal ransom to ruling to own kingdom, and Elenor refused to control the purse strings of either. John may not be ideal for the crown, but he was still preferable to a void throne.

Voids allowed for the entry of rot.

Edward sighed and hauled himself from his chair by the fire. The party Vaisey had demanded his attendance at had held no amusement, and the chair had been hard and unforgiving. Once Marian had him settled in his rooms, a servant had come to help him dress for bed but Edward had stubbornly sat by the fire to think as the servant pulled back the sheet.

And that was the worst of it. His body, with his wheezing breath and cooling extremities, was shutting down, but his mind was sharp. He often hid that fact, pretending not to hear things and letting his gaze slip, but it worked in his favor. It was generally assumed that he was a doddering old fool. People tended to speak freely.

Edward blew out the candle and picked his way across the floor. The shadows pitched in time with the dancing fire, and he settled into bed with relief, easing his aching bones into the thick bed. He had months, he reckoned. Not long enough to accomplish all the things he wanted to.

But maybe enough to accomplish the things he needed to.

.

The following week found Edward more often at his desk than not. When Marian asked him to join her at supper, he pleaded his head and asked her to have a plate delivered. Sir Guy, her shadow these days, nodded and gently ushered her away in his arms and Edward returned to his stack of parchments.

Men came in all forms of utility, Edward had found, and a different sort was needed for different tasks. Fine hands were as useless on a blacksmith as a thick chest on a minstrel. Likewise, a man like Sir Guy was nearly ideal to protect and carefully guard Marian, but could hardly be used for Edward's purposes. Robin Hood, however…

Edward rubbed his tired eyes. It had taken all night to decide, but he had determined the role he could play. He was an old man and could not ride or shoot, but he knew the lineage and seal of every house in England, down to the best fishing holes on their estates. What was the point of all this knowledge if he could not make use of it?

So he wrote letters, altering his hand for different names, and obtained samples of every seal he could recall, carving bits of wood into facsimiles that would pass casual inspection. It took days, and he focused on every name he could ever recall sharing ale or meat with.

As he worked, it became clear that this could not simply be about Richard, or John, or any one person. Edward tore and burned parchment and rewrote letters, refining his ideas, and selecting the right words, the right recipients.

The pile of spent quills could likely write the words 'liberties and free customs' on their own.

.

After some trial and error, Edward found that it took three days to get a message from Nottingham castle to the forest. Messages had to change hands often so no one knew where they were going, and the last stage was a lowly basket hung on a peg alongside drying herbs. Half his notes were blank paper, but every so often it was not.

Edward surveyed his work, a neat stack of a few dozen letters ready for dispatching, accompanied by specific instructions. It would be months or years before the confusion was sorted, and by then what was read and said could not be taken back. By then, the seed would have taken root.

By then, he would be dead.

A knock at his door. Edward locked away his letters quickly.

"Papa?" Marian called through the door. "I thought you might like some soup. It's very warming."

"Come in, come in!" With a grunt, Edward stood and got the door.

Marian carried in a tray with rich soup and bread and set it on a small table. "I hope you are better today, Papa. We've been worried."

Edward looked up. "We?"

"Well, I… and I have not seen Robin in some days, but I am sure he worries." She fussed with the tray. "And Sir Guy. He asks after you."

"I did not see him tonight."

"No, he is busy." Marian held the chair and helped him settle into it. "I believe he went to Locksley and will be back in a day or two."

Edward ate, less for his own appetite but to satisfy Marian, who was pleased with every spoonful. "He should take care not to neglect his estate."

"It is not-" Marian began, but quickly stopped. She was more careful these days, but needed to rein in her passion for more worthy causes. "Of course he should not. I believe Thornton serves him well, and maintains things in his absence."

"It is not the same. By the way, when he returns, ask if he could look in on Knighton. I should like to know how the wheat and pigs are coming along and if our tenants are maintaining the gates."

Marian blinked.

Edward had chosen his words carefully. She would refuse him nothing if it concerned their home. The thaw between her and Gisborne had been lagging behind the weather, and he was not above making her seek him out.

She pursed her lips for a moment. "Yes, Papa. Is there anything else?"

Edward set down the spoon. "Yes, actually. I have some messages that must be delivered." He slid three wax-sealed parchments from his robes. "The first to the tanner, I need my shoes repaired, the second to the tailor, and the third to the boys in the stables." Edward leaned over. "And give them a few coins to give our horses a good running."

Marian took the parchments with a laugh. Edward grinned. She didn't know that two of them were blank, and one had nothing to do with errands.

"Of course, Papa. Is there anything else? How is the soup?"

"Very good. I'm feeling better after a few days of rest."

She took his hand in hers. "I'm so glad. I'm sure we'll be going home soon, and everything will be back to normal." Her gaze shifted. "And all will be better when Richard returns."

Edward squeezed her hands. "All will be better."

.

A knock at the door, and a low hoot. How the man could slip about a castle like a ghost was beyond Edward, but then, those skills were why he was perfect for this task.

Edward opened the door as quietly as he could, and a black-armored knight slipped in.

The armor was ill-fitted.

"Sir Edward," the knight slid off the dented helmet and pushed back a flop of sandy brown hair. "You are not unwell are you?"

"No, Robin, I am fine. Thank you for coming."

He looked around. "Is Marian here? I hoped to see her. I'm afraid I angered her."

"No, she is not angry, but she could not come. I needed to see you myself."

"I will serve you and Marian in any way I can."

Edward shook his head. "We are well enough for now. England, though, needs your help."

Robin squared his shoulders. "Have you heard from Richard?"

"Yes," Edward lied, "but he begged that we remain silent, and prepare for his return in a careful way. It would not do to alert anyone, but rather send word to a set of earls and barons. Together, as peers, we can begin certain… precautions."

Robin whistled in admiration. "He is truly a great king. Such foresight. Of course, what can I do?"

Edward held out his stack of parchments and the instructions. "Take these, and follow the instructions absolutely. If any seals are broken, burn the letter and do not read it."

"But, Edward!"

Edward gripped the younger man's arm. "Robin, I know you are loyal, I know you love him, but you must not see the contents, lest you be tempted or compelled to betray him. Promise me, Robin, now!"

Robin stared into Edward's eyes and slid a tiny blade from his sleeve. He barely winced as he drew it across his palm. "I swear to you now, Sir Edward of Knighton, on my life I will not betray nor risk betraying you or our king." The blood dripped from his clenched fist and splattered upon the parchments. They drank it thirstily.

Edward released his work into Robin's stained hands, then gripped his shoulders.

"England will rise, Robin of Locksley. And the rule of law will prevail once more."

For a moment Robin looked curious, but swiftly set his jaw and bowed before sweeping the dented helmet over his head and stashing the letters under his cloak.

At the door, he bowed again and hesitated.

"Sir Edward, will you tell-" Robin's breath caught, and he cleared his throat before trying again. "Please tell Marian that I will come back. I—I will come back for her!"

The men exchanged nods. Robin had said those words before. He probably believed it then as well, but many years had passed. Too many.

At least one of them tried to be honest today.

Minutes later, as the castle rang with cries of Robin Hood! Robin Hood! Edward laid down to rest. There was to be a dinner later, and he wished to accompany his daughter, not command her every concern. He had no doubt of Robin's eventual return, but with his absence for some weeks, and the likely increased demands on Vaisey's time soon by Prince John, Edward hoped to encourage a seed of a different sort to take root.