Sherwood – One Week Later

Marion was gone. Marion had left Halstead, destination unknown according to the Abbess, and Robin and his men had been forbidden to question any of the sisters. To "disturb" them, as the Abbess put it, her cold, patrician features as implacable and unassailable as those of any plaster saint.

Marion hadn't returned to the forest, hadn't gone to her family's Leaford estate. It was as if she'd vanished into the mists.

Robin slammed one fist into the tree he was leaning against. Where could she have gone? She had distant relatives in various parts of England and even some in Wales, but none close enough for her seek sanctuary with, none that wouldn't immediately return her to Halstead once they learned she'd fled a convent. Or worse, give her over to the Sheriff of Nottingham for the price on her head.

He shook his head in continued disbelief. That she'd done so uncharacteristic an act still raised hackles of suspicion in his heart. Marion wouldn't have simply vanished during the night, as the Abbess insisted. She wouldn't have run away unless there were a good reason for doing so, and she most assuredly would have found her way back to Sherwood if that were the case. She knew who she could trust, who she could count on, even if she kept herself apart from them to spare herself the potential of future grief.

Something had happened to her, and he was powerless to understand what. If he and his men attempted to infiltrate Halstead, to wrest the truth from the Abbess or one of her flock, he'd be putting them all in danger of the hangman's noose as surely as if he marched into Nottingham Castle and demanded that de Rainault hand over the most recent tax money he'd collected.

Bold, he'd been called, and daring, occasionally foolhardy, but not stupid. Never stupid.

With a last angry slam of his fist he pushed himself away from the tree and stalked to the edge of the clearing, arms folded tightly across his chest. She hadn't just vanished, she'd gone somewhere and with some reason. If it took him the rest of his life, he vowed, he'd discover where she'd gone and why.

Little John watched Robin through weary, blood-shot eyes. They'd combed every inch of Sherwood for any sign that Marion had passed that way recently, to no avail. Scarlet insisted that she'd run off to another abbey to make sure none of them could find her, but no one else agreed with that assertion, least of all Robin. It had been a week and they still hadn't the smallest hint of which direction to look for her.

That was all any of them needed, even Scarlet, truth be told; a hint, a crumb, something to follow that would lead them in the right direction. Otherwise they could do naught but sit on their hands as it felt they had been doing since their frustrating visit to Halstead.

The old witch of an Abbess knew something more, John felt it in his bones, but how to drag it out of her? Halstead was a true convent, not a cover for a coven of devil worshippers out to steal Albion, Robin's sword. And if it had been, Marion would have legged it back to them as soon as she found out.

Unless, of course, she found out too late and lay buried in some remote corner. That thought was too much to bear, and John turned from it, resolved never to broach the possibility. Even Scarlet hadn't brought such an idea to Robin's attention, whether he believed it possible or not.

For now, all they could do was return to their daily routines.

And wait.

oOo

News came to them, as it often did, borne on the legs of Edward of Wickham's son, Matthew. The boy entered Sherwood at a run and was quickly discovered by Much, who brought him to the most recent encampment the outlaws shared. It was two days later, two more days during which the Sheriff remained absent from Nottingham on his mysterious business in London, two days during which Gisburne remained locked up in Nottingham Castle on some equally mysterious business of his own, and two more days without word from Marion.

When Matthew and Much arrived, breathless from running, Robin awaited them eagerly. If Gisburne (your brother, his mind whispered) was up to no good, at least it would give them something to do besides endlessly brooding on Marion's disappearance. Things had been far too quiet lately.

But when Matthew spoke, the words tumbling over each other in his eagerness to share the news, Robin's eyes went flat with disbelief. "Gisburne is getting married?"

Matthew nodded. "Me Da says he's posted the banns and has a priest comin' from somewhere. Rumor says he wants it done an' over before the Sheriff gets back." The boy spat reflexively as he spoke the hated title. "Thing is, no one knows who he's marrying!"

"He could hardly have posted the banns without the lady's name being mentioned," Tuck objected.

Matthew shrugged; such details were beyond his experience and interest. "People are sayin' it's got to be a lady he brought into town nigh on a week ago, wore a veil so no one could see who she was, an' none o' the guards are talking."

A ripple of shock passed through the group; all eyes turned to Robin, who stood motionless at Matthew's revelation. "Where did the lady come from?" he asked softly.

"I dunno, but they come through Sherwood well enough, while you were away," Matthew replied. "Thought you knew about it." He looked around uneasily; he'd thought he was bringing a bit of gossip or a possibility for the outlaws to do Gisburne some mischief, but he hadn't expected this sudden chill, the uneasy looks Scarlet was casting Robin's way, Nasir's frown or John's nervous gnawing at a thumbnail as he, too, stared at Robin. "Um, I'd best get back home," he said, and they let him go without another word.

When the boy had vanished into the forest, John spoke. "It can't be her," he protested, knowing he'd lost the argument before it was made. Hell, he only half-believed his own words. "Marion would never agree to such a marriage, and there's no way Gisburne could force her into it!"

"It's not like he hasn't tried before," Will pointed out, shifting uneasily at the memory of his own behavior during that particular time period. "When he tried to make that Jew girl marry him…"

"Perhaps he's found Sarah and forced her to come back," John interjected. "That would make more sense, that he hunted down a lady who'd rejected him and found a way to force her—"

"The timing is right," Robin said in a low voice. Not for a forced return of Sarah, but for the disappearance of Marion from Halstead. "He must have had her in some disguise, threatened her or blackmailed her into coming back with him and now this." He buckled on his sword sheath with a grim determination the others recognized all too well. "Either way, I have to find out. Whether it's Sarah or Marion or some other unfortunate Gisburne has hidden away, we need to know the truth. If it's someone there of their own free will," his tone indicated his doubt that such a situation was possible, "then at least we'll know."

Nottingham Castle

"Well, my lady? Have you made your peace with our impending nuptials?"

Marion glared up at Guy from her seat by the window. "You've given me very little choice in the matter," she bit out. He'd kept her imprisoned in this room, seeing no one but himself, not even a chambermaid or guard. She felt as if she were going mad with a combination of boredom and helplessness, grateful only for the fact that her morning bouts of nausea seemed finally to have passed. As relieved as she was at that change in her condition, it hardly made up for the fact that she'd been here for over a week and there had been no sign of rescue from Sherwood, no sign that Robin even knew she was trapped here.

She'd attempted escape on more than one occasion, to no avail. She hadn't enough length of bedclothes to make her way out the window and down the side of the castle walls. Attempts to bribe the guard stationed outside her door met with notes shoved back under the door and an obstinate silence on the other side. The one time she'd pushed her one piece of jewelry under the door, the gold cross she'd been wearing upon her capture, it had been pushed back even quicker than the notes.

She had clothes to wear (with thoughtfully-supplied extra wide seams to accommodate an expanding waistline, even if hers hadn't bothered doing much expanding so far), food, even an embroidery hoop of the kind she hadn't touched since her year in exile from Sherwood after her husband's death. Her lodgings also boasted a bible, a water pitcher and elaborate hip bath in the small cubby off the room opposite the window, and not much else to while away the time.

Short of stabbing Gisburne with the embroidery needle and overpowering the guard outside her door, she had no chance of escaping. Even worse, de Rainault was due to return within the fortnight, at least according to Gisburne. She wouldn't put it past him to lie about such a thing, but the longer she took to answer him, the more nervous he seemed. The one thing she did believe was that he wanted her safely married to him before the Sheriff returned, although she wasn't exactly sure why. After all, the baby would be born soon enough after the wedding that, no matter how much Guy blustered and bluffed, everyone would know it had been conceived well before the wedding night.

She was almost three months pregnant. Even the earliest of early babies wouldn't arrive a mere six months after the expectant parents were wed. And no one, absolutely no one, would believe the babe to belong to anyone but Robin Hood.

Marion said as much to Gisburne as he approached her, but he merely offered an insolent smile and sat next to her, uninvited and unwelcome. She made as if to rise, but he restrained her with one hand on her wrist. "Of course they'll suspect I'm not the father," he agreed. "But who's to say I never laid hands on you before our wedding night? And Huntingdon and I are alike enough in coloring that if the child doesn't favor your red hair no one could outright deny me as a possible father."

"No one will ever believe I let you touch me," she hissed, yanking fruitlessly at his hand, failing to free her wrist but unwilling to give up trying.

"Not willingly, no," he said, the insolent smile growing into a smirk. "But my reputation has sunk so low in the shire that no one would doubt my ability to take a woman by force." Perversely he seemed proud of that fact, and fact it was; Marion knew exactly how little people thought of him.

"You disgust me," she said, but Gisburne merely continued smiling at her as if he'd already won.

"That's as may be, but I still want you to marry me."

"Why?" Marion asked, surprised that she hadn't thought to ask him this before. "Use me to get to Robin, that I understand, but how will marrying me and claiming his child as yours…" Her voice trailed off as understanding dawned. "You want to raise his child as yours," she whispered. "To keep Robin away from him."

"I'll be doing the babe a favor, and you as well," Gisburne replied, the smirk disappearing as his desire for revenge showed itself to her eyes more clearly than ever before. "To be the son of a pair of outlaws is to be assured of a very short life, make no mistake there. To be the son of a nobleman is something else entirely. Your father purchased a pardon for you once; I'm confident I'll be able to manage a second one for you, but more easily if we're already wed and your condition is announced."

King John's incessant need for money was well known, as well known as the fact that Gisburne and de Rainault squirreled away as much of the tax money they wrung out of the local peasantry for themselves as they could manage. It wouldn't take more than a hefty purse to purchase her pardon, and Gisburne was right; it would be even easier should that pardon be sought by her husband, a man known to be loyal to the crown and violently opposed to outlawry. And if he publically claimed her child as his? He could be doubly trusted under those circumstances, the king would no doubt believe, to keep his unruly wife firmly under his thumb.

"You're mad," Marion declared flatly, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt. "You know Robin will hound you to the ends of the earth once he knows you have me. And he'll know the truth, that you never laid hands on me, that he's the baby's father. I'll deny you!" she cried defiantly. "I'll swear you never touched me, swear it in front of God with my hand on the bible!"

"Then I'll let de Rainault decide your fate," Gisburne said, his voice cool but eyes hot with anger. "What do you think he'll do when he has Robin Hood's whore and bastard under his roof? Do you truly think he'll allow you to live long enough to give birth to the next generation of outlaw?"

Marion froze at his words, at the truth in them. de Rainault hated Robin and all he stood for; he'd been responsible for the death of her husband and the desecration of his corpse, for denying Robin of Loxley the decency of a Christian burial. They'd never found the body, and she suspected the Sheriff had had it burned in contravention of church law.

Not that it mattered, not now. All that mattered was the life of her unborn child and the fact that Gisburne knew very well that she would never be able to sacrifice her baby's life. Still, she had a choice, and if neither of the options were palatable at least one of them offered a shred of hope. "I'll marry you," she whispered, defeated, lowering her eyes to her lap. Gisburne had released her, and her hands clasped themselves nervously together.

"You'll not deny me as father?" Gisburne pressed, confident of victory. "You'll make your vows before God and swear to honor me as your lord and husband? In every way?" he stressed, making clear his desire to take her as wife in more than just name.

"Yes," she said, her voice as gray and colorless as the future she now faced. "I'll do it. Just swear you'll protect the child from de Rainault and I'll do everything you ask. Everything except betray Robin and his men," she added with a momentary flash of her usual fire. "I'll never give them up to you, no matter what threats you make. My life and," she swallowed, "that of my child aren't worth that much to me."

Gisburne could see she was determined on this, but in light of her capitulation to his other demands, he decided to be gracious. "Very well." He leaned down and grasped her chin with his hand. "Come, a kiss to seal the bargain."

Marion suffered the press of his lips on hers, made no move to stop him, but her very passivity brought an end to the embrace with an abruptness Gisburne no doubt hadn't intended. With a curse he shoved her away from him. "Play it that way until we exchange vows Sunday next," he sneered, rising to his feet. "But on our wedding night I will expect you to live up to your word and act as my wife."

Then he was gone, and Marion found herself crumpled in a tight ball, weeping as if her heart would break. Once she was married to Gisburne, her world would come to an end. The only consolation she had was that Robin's child would be safe, at least from the Sheriff. "Oh my baby," she whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry I'm bringing you into a world of such sorrow."

The Next Day

They'd breached Nottingham so many times in the past it was fast becoming a game, but always one with serious, if not deadly, consequences. This time, however, they didn't risk themselves on reconnaissance, but asked Edward of Wickham to aid them. Willingly he did so, for the many times the outlaws had come to Wickham's aid in the past as well as for everything they'd tried to do to help the people of Nottingham.

It was with a troubled mind that he sought them out the day after his sojourn. "He's planning a wedding, well enough," he told them as they sat around the campfire. It was early evening and Edward intended to stay the night in Sherwood before making his way back home with the goods he'd purchased (with money provided by Robin, naturally) for his wife and son and fellow villagers. "The banns are posted, a priest has apparently been bribed or threatened into performing the ceremony in haste and without the identity of the bride being revealed. For 'security reasons', is all Gisburne'll say, but I think we know what that means."

"To keep us from interrupting the blessed day," Tuck interjected dryly. "And when exactly is the blessed day?"

"Sunday."

Sunday. Less than a full week away. Not much time. Tuck turned to face Robin. "It's got to be Marion." There was no doubt in any of their minds, not now.

The other man nodded grimly. "The only question is, why is she going along with this madness?"

"It isn't because she suddenly found room in her heart for Gisburne, that's for sure," Scarlet snorted, then took a hefty draught from his cup and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "No, he's threatening her into it. Probably with our lives," he added morosely.

"Empty threats at best," John objected. "He's not got any of us in hand, and Marion wouldn't believe him if he told her so without proof. Maybe he's promised to leave us be if she cooperates. Or perhaps it isn't a wedding at all," he added, inspired by a sudden thought. "Maybe it's just a trap to capture us."

"Of course it's a trap," Robin snapped. "Whether he intends to go through with the ceremony or not. Either way, we have to stop it from happening."

"Aye, we know that," was Scarlet's impatient reply. "The only question is when and how."

When and how indeed. While Robin pondered those very questions the rest of his outlaw troop prepared for sleep. Edward had a long day behind him and was snoring a full hour before the rest of them.

While Robin stared into the fire, Much crouched next to him. Scarlet, Nasir and John had settled into their bedrolls, trusting to their leader to figure out a solution to their current predicament. "You'll bring her back, right Robin?"

He put an arm around Much's shoulder and gave him a reassuring hug. "Of course I will." Or die trying, he vowed inwardly.

Much grinned at him, unaware of Robin's private thoughts, relieved and trusting, then headed for his own night's rest.

Robin continued staring into the flames long after the others had begun their nightly chorus of snores and unconscious mumblings. He should have known Marion hadn't simply swanned off into the night of her own free will. Gisburne and the Abbess must have colluded in this, he concluded. It was the only thing that made sense. It was remotely possible the woman was guilty only of turning in a wanted outlaw to the proper authorities, but if that was the case she should have done so before accepting Marion into the fold and offering her the sanctuary of the church. He wanted nothing more than to ride back to Halstead and choke the truth out of the Norman bitch, but there wasn't time. Next Sunday either a real or false wedding would take place, and Robin had no intention of wasting a single second fretting over past betrayals when he had his hands full in the present.

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