Chapter 9

Robin found himself in a lone cell, separate from any other prisoners the sheriff surely had down there. He wasn't sleeping; he was sitting on the cot the cell offered instead, leaning with his back against the wall.

He was trapped. He knew he should be feeling glad that Marian was found and well, but then he had no idea how long this would be the case. He doubted the sheriff would leave it at one attempt to kill her. Robin was certain that it had all been the man's doing. Accusing Robin of it just served as a bonus for the man.

Once Robin was dead, he wouldn't be able to protect Marian anymore. While he knew that Gisborne would also try to do so, it was no happy thought that Marian would have to rely on that man of all men.

There was still the gang though. They were safe, back at the camp. They would still be there to continue to fight against the sheriff, to help the poor, to protect Marian. He was sure they would do so, knowing that it was what he would have wanted.

They wouldn't be able to keep her safe from the sheriff in the castle though. Robin had known it for a long time. He had always tried to convince her to go with him into the forest, fearing for her safety in the castle. She had refused because of her father. After his death, she had been ready to come. Why had he let her go back?

Robin shook his head. She had to leave the castle. She had to find sanctuary somewhere. He prayed she would realize this soon enough. Or would she still stay after he was hanged here?

The night stretched long. Longer than he thought it would. Maybe it was because he was worrying so much, worrying about what would happen, things he wouldn't know about anymore, wouldn't be able to do anything about. That was what made him feel the worst. He had always felt sure that if he was there to somehow do something, he would be able to bring change, or at least would be able to keep the horrible things that could happen in bay.

He wasn't able to determine the time, but after what he knew had to be several hours, he started hearing sounds outside of the dungeon's door. He closed his eyes, calming his breath. He had looked death into the eye so often that he shouldn't be this nervous. Still, he couldn't keep his heart from beating faster.

He waited and the sounds ebbed away. Nobody came for him though. He repeatedly heard the sound of voices and of steps, but still the door remained closed. As time dragged on, Robin moved away from the cot he had been sitting on all night. There wasn't much space to walk, but he couldn't sit anymore. In his mind raged pictures of all the things he imaged to be happening right now, as the day went on.

Then the door that led to the cells opened and Robin could see the jailer's face for a moment. There weren't any guards behind him. Instead it was a lone man, clad in black. He spoke with the jailer quietly and the other man left him alone with Robin.

Robin crossed his arms before his chest, looking at Allan darkly.

"What do you want? Or should I rather ask: what does Gisborne want?"

"I'm not here on Giz' orders."

"On whose then?" Robin was only mildly curious.

Allan shrugged. "On my own."

"So the jailer just let you in so we could have a chat?"

"Well, I told him I'm here on Giz' orders."

"So, what is it you want?"

"Nothing, really."

Robin moved closer to the bars of the cell. "I'm telling you, don't think you can sell out anyone else, the gang, Marian, just because I can't kill you anymore. There's going to be someone else who will make you pay."

"Seriously, Robin, I'd never-"

"So, what's going on?" the archer interrupted him. "How comes I'm not a guest at the sheriff's festivities yet?" he asked with a scowl on his face.

Allan lifted his eyebrows. "He isn't in town actually. He's ridden out somewhere, don't know where to." He stared at Robin for a moment. "Oh, you mean why he hasn't... yeah, I guess he had more important matters on his mind." Allan said the last thing with a smirk that told Robin clearly how much he himself believed his own tale.

Robin scoffed. He could imagine this being the sheriff's latest idea of a game. "Has Gisborne gone with him?" he asked in a tone that showed it to be of only minor interest to him.

Allan nodded. "Yeah. There are still double guards everywhere though. Nobody gets in or out who doesn't have explicit permission from the sheriff." He answered the question as if Robin had asked after any chance of escape. There were some moments of silence, before Allan went on. "How comes you're in here anyway? I heard you were arrested for plotting to kill Marian. I guess there's not much truth in that."

Robin shook his head. "What did you expect? The sheriff discovering his conscience? You should know who you're working for by now."
He wasn't very willing to discuss the attack on Marian. He still couldn't be sure on whose orders it had happened, although his mind had already formed a clear answer that pointed at the sheriff.

"I just wondered what happened, as I haven't seen her around." Allan shrugged.

"What do you mean, you haven't seen her around?" Robin asked sharply.

"Well, I'm not sure if she's skipping meals, but a servant girl I... talked... to said she hasn't taken any of her meals yet."

Robin froze. Had the sheriff acted during the night? He moved away from the bars, away from Allan, staring at the rough walls of the cell. He was trapped.

He sat down at the cot, laying his head on his hands, breaking his mind to come up with a solution. He had almost forgotten the other man, when Allan spoke up again.

"You know, Robin, if I knew a way, I'd help you out of here."

"Sure, unless your buddy Giz ups the price," Robin retorted bitterly, not even looking at the man, his mind still on Marian.

"Robin, I never wanted any of you to be killed, I swear!"

"Go back to whoever sent you here."

"Robin-"

"Leave!"

Robin didn't watch him depart, but knew Allan had indeed left when the heavy dungeon's door opened and closed some moments later. He wasn't certain that Gisborne had sent Allan, but was mildly curious as to what he had expected to achieve by doing it, if it was indeed the case.

Robin's thoughts returned to Marian then and he wondered if Guy knew where she was. He had ridden out with the sheriff, according to Allan, so Robin could only assume that he hadn't any tasks that kept him at the castle.

Robin stood up and walked to the bars again, looking into the darkness. He knew it was pointless, but he couldn't help it as he tried to make them move in frustration. He had been here before. He had been about to be executed several times. Never had he wanted to give the sheriff the satisfaction of showing desperation, but right now he couldn't imagine anything worse than being trapped here, being able to do nothing.

He remembered Marian's words from so long ago. She had argued that he wouldn't be able to help anyone when he was dead. He had retorted that he couldn't let the sheriff hang his people. She had told him that everything they did was a choice. It had been similar words he had used with Allan when the man claimed he had had no choice but to betray the gang.

Robin still didn't regret anything he had done to help his people, but he couldn't keep the desperation away of having no choices left, nothing left he could do. Almost nothing at least...

"Jailer!" he yelled as loudly as he could, hoping the man would hear him through the heavy door. "Jailer!"

He doubted for some moments that it had worked, but then the door opened and he could see the man walking through.

The man smiled chillingly. "Can't wait for your hanging, can you?"

Robin looked at him sternly. "I want to see Lady Marian," he said in his most authoritative tone. He knew that Marian wouldn't be able to do anything for him this time, but he had to find out if she was alright. Maybe she was at the castle after all and Allan had just told another tale...

The jailer grinned. "You want to see her? Now what else do you want? Shall I tell the cooks to prepare a grand dinner for you? Maybe some cushions for your cot? Or do you maybe want to leave us early?"

Robin ignored the taunting. "Go and tell her that I want to see her."

The jailer hadn't changed his expression, only looked at Robin for some more moments, before he turned away.

"Then get Gisborne down here," Robin called after him, feeling that he had to get answers from somebody. Maybe Gisborne would be ready to talk to him. The jailer though wasn't talking to him anymore, but wandered away without turning to Robin again.

He kicked the bars once more in frustration.

It was hours later that the jailer returned, carrying a small plate this time. Robin didn't even glance at the food he brought.

"Have you talked to Gisborne? Will he come down here and talk to me?" he asked, having decided on this somewhat more diplomatic approach. The jailer shoved the plate into Robin's cell.

"Sir Guy is too busy to do what a man who won't live another day wants from him," he told Robin. "They're preparing things for the hanging out there. Joyful picture for a man like me!"

"Have you talked to him at all?" Robin demanded.

"Talk? I only hear talk. Swing you will in the morning, I tell you!" The man seemed excited.

Robin bent down in one motion, grabbing the plate, and threw it through the bars with as much force as he could muster. It hit the man squarely in the face.

While the move was one of pure rage and frustration, Robin also realized that he could only hope for the jailer to be angry and stupid enough to go and storm into the cell. He would be ready for such a move.

The man held his face, showing a small cut on the forehead.

"You're going to regret this, my boy," he said slowly. To Robin's disappointment, he didn't open the cell. Instead he left, rubbing his head.

Robin meanwhile investigated what had originally been on the plate and had now fallen to the ground. He hadn't looked at what was at the plate before, but he was hungry, that much was certain. It had been the day before that he had eaten last, having not even received anything in the morning. The hanging had been supposed to happen then, so maybe the jailer had considered any food wasted in that occasion. Robin was still alive now, though, and his stomach was empty. He found some bread on the floor that was almost as hard as said floor. There was a bowl as well that had originally been filled with water but had been spilled it as he had thrown the plate. He felt the bread in his hand, knowing he wouldn't be able to eat it this way. At least it was something else he could throw at the jailer in case he returned, even if the only thing it earned him was satisfaction.

The man didn't show his face again though, not delivering on his earlier threat for reasons unknown to Robin, who also didn't bother to call for him again. The man wouldn't bring either Marian or Gisborne, and Robin had no other way to find out what he needed to know.

He lay down at the cot, feeling tired. He hadn't slept during the last night, his mind full of fears and thoughts of what was going to be. His mind wasn't less full now, but it was his body that was refusing to go on any longer without sleep. He didn't want to sleep. He still had to try and come up with something he could do. He mustn't sleep. He mustn't waste the little time he had.

Before he finally drifted away, he realized that he would at least know in the morning. If Marian was there at the hanging, he would at least know then that she was alright. He wished he had any way to know about the rest of his men as well.

Guy had risen very early. His sleep hadn't been as restful as he would have wished. Although he had the calming knowledge that Marian was back at the castle, there was still the worry at the back of his mind.

Maybe it had also been the promise of the hanging that had brought him out of bed early. It was certainly a much anticipated event among the sheriff and his followers. If Guy was honest to himself though, he didn't enjoy the prospect as much as he should. He didn't mind the fact that Hood would be killed. What he minded was the way he had been caught. Guy didn't think much of any standards of fairness. At the end the man who was the strongest one, the most ruthless one, was the one who would succeed, who would survive.

Still, Guy hated the fact that Hood had been caught when he had been working with him, when he had been helping him to save Marian. It gave Hood some worth, somehow, for this very moment at least. It was a worth that resulted from seeing Marian safe. Without Hood, there was no telling what would have happened to her. It had been his idea, after all, to return to Nottingham. It was his insistence and unwillingness to take no for an answer that led them to find Marian in time, and Guy didn't like that he would die at the end of the day because of that.

For some time, there was also the question as to Hood's motives on his mind again. Strangely enough, it also caused him to remember the conversation with the sheriff he had led some days ago, Vaysey demanding to find out about Hood's sore point... Guy shook his head. It was impossible.

He had seen Marian to her chamber the night before and he planned to see her in the morning again. She would surely be at the hanging. They could spend some time together afterwards and Guy would be able to shove the wrong feelings he had about Hood's capture into the back of his mind. Maybe he would find out then where she had been those last days. She had been silent on the matter the night before. He could only guess that she had been about to return to the castle when those men had ambushed her.

Guy dressed and walked outside into the castle yard. On the first glance he noticed that the gallows hadn't been readied. He frowned. Surely the sheriff didn't plan to let Hood live. It was an interesting concept, when he thought about it, having the outlaw rot in the dungeons. Hanging was a quick way to have it over with. If they kept the man suffering in the dungeons, it would be a sign that would possibly hold true for years to come. Guy knew though that the sheriff would neither risk that, always fearing the outlaw to get away somehow after all, nor had the patience for that. Not that Guy would usually have supported any such solution.

The sheriff himself stood beside him moments later. Guy looked down at him. "Sir."

"What a day, isn't it, Gisborne?

"Yes, my lord."

"You and me, we're going to ride out today." The sheriff seemed cheerful, clapping his hands.

"Sir," Guy turned to him again. "Is there not going to be the hanging today?"

"Now are we eager, Gisborne!" the man smiled. "You will see the outlaw hang early enough. Let us not spoil our mood today with the thought of criminals!"

"Do you think this wise, my lord? Hood has gotten away many times before."

Vaysey was still smiling. "That is why I told you to double the guards. I also chose to order archers being placed everywhere around us. If the outlaw shows his nose outside, they're going to be there. They've been ordered not to kill though, for I am going to see Hood hang, no matter how much or little alive he is going to be then."

Guy nodded. So the sheriff hadn't changed his mind about Hood at all. At the end of the day he was still as preoccupied to see the outlaw killed publicly as ever. Still, Guy didn't understand the man. If Guy wanted someone dead, they died. Guy didn't play, or think and hesitate until the chance was gone.

Guy had no notion of where the sheriff was leading him, as he did not know most days, and he followed without question. This was not the first time the sheriff acquired an odd taste for peculiar rides and meaningless missions. All that the man cared for was to have his Master–at-Arms with him. Even at times Gisborne suspected the sheriff enjoyed his company, but the man would never openly admit to it. What he did know was the fact that it would take up their day, the very reasoning of why the hanging had been rescheduled to the next morning.

They returned late at night and Guy was disappointed about having lost the day he could have spent with Marian. It was even too late at night to go and see her. Guy led his horse back into the stables himself and then wandered slowly through the darkness on his way back into the castle.

When he had almost reached the entrance, a man nearly bumped into him. Guy shouted at him, enticing an apology from the other. Gisborne recognized him to be the jailer.

"Sir Guy," the man said, still appearing distraught.

"What is it?" he asked with a cold feeling of foreboding in his stomach. It couldn't be...

"The outlaw."

"What about him?" Guy demanded, not even asking if they were actually talking about Hood.

"He threw a plate at me," the man gulped. "Do I have your permission to make him pay?"

Guy stared at the man. He was in no state of mind to deal with such trivial nonsense. The jailer was acting as though he was merely a child intent on getting revenge, and obviously he failed to see the simple solution at hand.

"I would suggest that you do not give him any more plates then. Consider yourself lucky it was a plate and not something of a more sharp nature, such as a sword or dagger," he added. "In any way, he will hang in the morning."

The jailer seemed unhappy. "So quick. Nearly painless, if he is lucky and his neck breaks."

Gisborne smirked only.

"He wanted to talk to you, Sir Guy! But I wouldn't let him have it!" The man kept talking as he walked back towards the castle at Guy's side. As they were stepping inside, the man turned to him again. "May I have my simple pleasure, Sir?"

"No," Guy refused decidedly. "He will hang in the morning," he repeated. "You're not going to touch him till then. He will hang and pay for his crimes."

The jailer's disappointment was evident, but Guy didn't give him another chance to approach the topic, instead left the man standing at the entrance of the castle and walked up to his room. He knew that he could easily have let the jailer torture Hood. He had planned to do the same when he thought the outlaw was hiding Marian, and was usually no man who hesitated in that matter, if he saw the need for it. But now he wasn't seeking any answers from the outlaw anymore. And as the situation was, he wouldn't get any satisfaction from the knowledge of torture being done. Neither would he let the simple-minded man of a jailer have any of it.

Guy was still waiting for the satisfaction about the upcoming hanging to set in. He would feel it, he was sure about it.