It was a plan born of desperation, one each member of the diminished band of outlaws secretly feared was doomed to disappointment and certain death for all of them. Still, it had to be attempted; none could live with himself if they didn't at least try. Of all of them, only Much had any private confidence at all, and even he had some doubts. After all, they'd failed to save the man he'd loved as a brother, and that memory burned as painfully in his heart now as it ever had. He'd come to respect and admire the new Robin Hood Herne had called to them, and he hated to think of either him or his beloved Marion dying at the end of a hangman's noose.

And if they did? Well, then it was likely he'd be joining them so he wouldn't have long to mourn their failure to rescue their friends.

Friar Tuck was kneeling before the three Christian members of the woodland band, leading them in prayer before battle. Nasir stood respectfully to one side while he waited for the others to say their "Amens", then joined them as they returned to their feet—Tuck a little slower than the others, and with a great deal of grunting and grumbling under his breath as he used his staff to support his return to the vertical.

Their reservations only grew as they neared Nottingham and the site of the hanging. The sheriff had wasted no time upon his return in announcing the capture and imminent execution of Robin Hood and his mistress, who had so publicly embarrassed and refuted Gisburne only a few days earlier. Of course was loudly proclaiming that the wedding had only ever been a ploy to capture Robin Hood, but no one believed it of him, especially not the sheriff.

No, in his opinion Gisburne had merely found himself for once at favor in fortune's eye. He refused to credit his underling and favorite whipping boy with any cunning in how he'd managed to locate Marion, force her to return and even in how he captured Robin Hood. Nor did he keep his opinion to himself, which was how Robin's own men knew how de Rainault had publicly ridiculed Gisburne when he tried to take credit for his actions. "God alone knows how you stumbled onto Marion or how your ridiculous marriage ploy worked to lure Robin in from the greenwood, but no one would ever believe you planned it to happen that way!"

His words had been gleefully repeated far and wide, and as a result Gisburne hadn't been seen in public since. He was reported to be skulking about his family home, in temporary exile, no doubt wondering how his brilliant plan had been co-opted by a man who hadn't even been there at the time.

Still, it was nothing for them to worry about; he was safely out of the way and they had only the sheriff and his men to deal with.

And deal with them they would, they'd all silently vowed. To the last man, if necessary. If none of them made it out alive but saved at least Marion and Robin, it would be a sacrifice well worth making.

Interlude

He watched as the Hooded Man's loyal followers slipped unseen into the crowd, arriving one by one and at different times in order to minimize their chances of being caught. He approved; as someone who'd been raised in the study of tactics and battle strategy, it made eminent sense for them to split their admittedly small force. de Rainault had his men looking out for suspicious groups of four or more, not singletons, which had led to some amusing and not-so-amusing encounters between outraged visiting noblemen and sullen but unresisting groups of commoners, both come to witness the double hanging they'd been promised, although probably not with the same hope as to the outcome in their hearts.

At any rate, it had certainly been interesting to spot Little John doubled over and slouched at nearly half his normal height, bearing the weight of a false hunch hidden under his cloak. He'd shaved as well, head and beard, another tactic the watcher approved. Twas far easier to spot a false beard than to recognize a man who'd removed his real one.

Now that they were all in place, he could signal his own men when the time came. Then and only then would he know if his plan would work, or was as doomed to failure as the outlaw's own desperate ploy would ultimately turn out to be.

Nottingham Castle, The Dungeon

"Are you ready?"

The priest's words were brusque, unsympathetic, and Marion had the distinct impression the young Norman priest could care less if they wished to prepare their souls before facing the gallows. Still, she felt no desire to risk her immortal soul by disdaining confession this morning. Although she still held out hope for their rescue, part of her knew the chances were slimmer than usual. If they hadn't been freed by now, it was unlikely they'd escape the gallows, at least not both of them. Even if Robin's band consisted of a dozen men or more, the sheriff had taken great pains to explain how thoroughly he'd planned for every possible contingency.

With these uncomfortable thoughts, Marion slid to her knees and clasped her hands in front of her, head bowed as the priest mumbled his way through the Last Rites. He took her confession without comment or even change of expression, as if he'd heard it all before and found nothing surprising.

Of course, she confessed nothing that shocking, especially since she felt within her heart and soul that very little of her actions during her brief life required confessing. She'd done what she knew to be right; only in indulging in marital relations with a man not her husband had she felt worthy of confessing.

As soon as the priest murmured the words of absolution over her head, he rose to his feet and shouted for the ladder to be lowered. As he clambered up, she watched with a feeling of serenity she'd never have expected. Even a priest who obviously just wanted to get the sacrament over and done with had the ability to bring a sense of comfort to her soul. If she died today, she died with a clear conscience and an expectation of a heavenly reward.

She only hoped Robin felt the same way, although he'd stubbornly refused to give his confession. As the Son of Herne, she supposed it made sense; his sense of right and wrong was even more refined than her own. It was mostly for the sake of their unborn babe that she'd consented to make her own confession. She would not send their child into the next world with a double load of original sin to stains its unborn soul.

When the guard called for them to climb up after the priest, swords lowered threateningly from all sides of the small, square opening, she and Robin exchanged glances. He reached out silently and clasped her hand in his, squeezing it encouragingly. She squeezed back, nodded once, then climbed the ladder and headed for her fate.

A/N: Only two chapters left, then the story is told. Hope you've enjoyed it.