They buried Legrand by the river at the other side of the clearing. Sybil rooted around and found some wild flowers which they tied together with a strip of cloth from Isobel's cloak- she insisted on it despite their protests- and placed at the head of the grave. They stood around the small mound of earth in a solemn silence for a few moments, the light above them beginning to slowly fade away. Isobel looked at John standing next to her. There was a good foot between them, they were not touching at all, yet oddly, absurdly, it felt almost as if he was holding her hand; their wrists fell to the same level, and she could almost feel the pull in the symmetry between them.

"It's starting to get dark," Matthew finally broke the silence, "We must be on our way. We need to see the Queen off safely."

One by one, they started to make their way, following Matthew and Will up the slight incline, through the thinning trees until the wood stopped altogether and they were on the edge of the road.

Cautiously, Sybil peered out of the trees, turning her head both ways along the road.

"I can see the convoy, Robin," she told him, "They're here."

"How far?" Matthew asked her.

"Close. Fifty yards."

"Come on, then," he told them all, "Let's go. But don't make too much noise."

As quietly as they could, they all emerged from the trees onto the road. Isobel could see the convoy up ahead: a group of horses and their riders stood resting, all clad in the same colours and coats of arms. Suddenly, Much grabbed onto Matthew's arm.

"You don't think they could be the Sheriff's men disguised as the convoy, do you?" he asked in an urgent whisper.

"Don't be silly," Isobel told him- at this point she did not want to contemplate the notion of further complications- "If they were they would have shot us by now!"

Matthew nodded his agreement.

"I think her Majesty is right," he replied, "Besides, they will have a password so we know it's really them."

They continued to approach them. By now the soldiers had seen them.

"Long live the King," one of them still on his horse called.

"And the Queen," Matthew replied as they finally drew level, "What is the password?"

"Sandwiches."

Isobel almost sniggered; she had been expecting something very impressive and Latin. Hearing the password, the group parted so that the soldiers could see her.

"The Queen is here," Matthew told them, "We will leave her in your care to convey her back to Aquitaine."

"As you will, Robin Hood," the soldier replied, "We have a horse for her."

Oh blast! Isobel thought. It was a good few years since she'd been on a horse and she had never been exactly graceful in the saddle even then. Just her luck to have defied death and captivity to make a prize fool of herself now. Mercifully, it seemed that John had seen her apprehension and he stepped forward to help.

Linking his fingers together into a step for her, he leant down so that he was level with her knee, all the while looking up at her.

"Would you allow me to be of assistance, m'Lady?" he asked her.

"Yes, I would," she told him, then, leaning closer to him so that only he could hear, "Lifesaver."

She saw him suppress a smile. Putting her foot in his hands as gently as she could, she allowed him to hoist her up, helping her into the stirrups of the horse and then into the saddle itself. Once she was settled on the horse, all the while carefully trying to maintain her balance, she allowed him to be the first to kiss her hand. As he backed away respectfully, his eyes never left her face, and it was only with a great effort that she managed to tear her gaze away from him to turn towards Matthew.

"Thank you, Robin Hood," she told him, "For everything. You are a truly good man and I am proud to know you."

"It was all in the line of duty, Ma'am," he told her, kissing her hand himself, "Both to the King and to your good self."

"Well, be that as it may, you still nearly got yourself killed for it," she reminded him, "Be more careful in future. And that goes for the lot of you," she told them all, her eyes wandering over to Sybil.

"Are we ready to go, your Majesty?" one of the soldiers asked, "We should try to make it out of Nottingham before nightfall."

"Just a moment," she told him, fishing in the pocket of her cloak, for the money she had felt clinking against her side as they ran.

"It can't be much," she told Matthew, throwing the bag of gold down to him, "But it's for the poor."

"Ma'am, this will feed Locksley Village for the winter," he told her, weighing the bag in his hand, looking up at her in awe.

"Well, it's a lot better off doing that than weighing me down," she told him, beginning to turn the horse around, and beginning to trot away, the soldiers following her, "Until we meet again, Robin!"

It struck her now as Robin and his men called their goodbyes after her that she had no idea at all where they were going. They were taking her back to Aquitaine, yes,- her mind hadn't quite processed that yet- but where before that? Isobel sighed. She would just have to trust the soldiers to get her where she needed to be. It was growing dark quite quickly down, the sun at a low angle sliced down over the dark tops of the trees in bright gold. She realised that she was dreadfully tired. The evening had a definite hazy quality as she travelled along rather wearily. She could only hope that where ever they were taking her was somewhere like home.

…...

Her eyes snapped open. She felt very peculiar indeed; there was a cool clammy feeling on her forehead, and her left hand seemed to be gently trapped against a soft flat surface. Where ever she was was very dim indeed; even squinted she could only make out vague shapes. She wondered if the Sheriff's men had caught them and if she was now in captivity. When she tried to speak her voice was oddly hoarse.

"W-where am I?" she asked croakily, hoping someone friendly would be there to understand and answer her.

"Isobel?" she heard a familiar voice to her left hand side.

Her vision coming into better focus, she turned her head. To her astonishment, she saw Dr. Clarkson. Not bulky bear-like Dr. Clarkson either, real Dr. Clarkson. Dr. Richard Clarkson. That was the reason she couldn't move her left arm: he was holding her hand. Squinting some more she saw that she was in her room at home, lying in bed.

"What happened?" she demanded of him. Then another thought occurred to her, "What are you doing here?" she asked, a small, incredulous smile creeping across her lips.

"Matthew sent for me," he told her, "He thought you were having a fit and I can understand why. When I got here you had a fever and you were thrashing and flailing, tossing and turning. At times it was almost as if you were fighting someone. And you were shouting in your sleep."

She felt her face colour a little.

"And what was I shouting?" she asked him.

"It was incomprehensible, mostly," he replied, "You seemed to be trying to talk to someone; a man called John? And I'm sure you said something about a bear."

Isobel felt her colour deepen considerably.

"I tried to calm you down," he continued, "That's why you've a damp flannel on your forehead. Do you want to take it off?"

"No," she replied, think of the way she was still blushing a little, "No, I think I've keep it on a little while longer. Where's Matthew now?"

"He's having a lie down," he replied, "I told him he needed to get some rest; he's been up most of the night."

"You must have been too," she pointed out, ""What time is it?"

"Nearly half past six. The sun is about to come up, I would have said."

"Oh, goodness, I'm sorry, Richard," she told him, trying to sit up a little, "I really have kept you up half the night!"

"It's alright," he told her with a smile, "It's my job."

"Still, is there anything I can do for you to make it up?"

He sat quietly for a moment, his hand still resting on her bed, frowning.

"Richard?"

"Who is John?" he asked suddenly.

She almost laughed out loud at the expression on his face. However, she sensed that this was not quite the moment to laugh at him. Cautiously, she took back ahold of his hand.

"No one," she assured him, "It think Matthew was right, I was quite mad for a little while."

He glanced towards their hands, linked and lying flat on her bed.

"And how do you feel now?" he asked, his voice formal but faltering a little.

She looked at their hands too, and squeezed her fingers ever so slightly around his.

"Fine," she replied, "I feel fine."

End.

Please review if you have the time, I really hope you have enjoyed it.