Title: Suffering Enough
Author: reef
Rating: M
Characters: Ensemble, Original character
Pairing: None Summary: For how long will the Crusades continue to haunt the soldiers that fought?
Authors Notes: This is an AU and my first Robin Hood fic. I did a little research and found that the story line for the show matches up perfectly with the time line for the movie Kingdom of Heaven, and that the movie itself is actually quite historically accurate. So consider this a crossover if you like but most of the stuff about Hattin and the Siege of Acre is actually considered historical fact.
WARNINGS: Mentions/infers torture. War. Mass murder.
Written: 26/06/07

Suffering Enough

Chapter 2

"To kill an infidel is not murder! Those who seek forgiveness for their mortal sins and have not received such must pay homage to God as they have fallen out of favour with the one true Lord. And they shall follow this servant of God to the Holy Land to beg forgiveness at the gates of Jerusalem and if not, give up all they're worldly belongings to support those who would make that journey."

The man who preached as he walked through the village of Nettlestone was dressed in heavy draping robes of lush fabrics, bright white material crosses shone in the morning sun. The glinting jewels on his fingers caught people's attention and they flocked to him as if he were their salvation from the tyranny of their daily lives, the reflections brighter sparks of hope than the words he spoke to those who had so little.

A murmur quickly spread throughout the village and soon the preaching man was stood on a low-standing table that the blacksmith's apprentice had pushed out into the town centre for him. A small coin had been handed over surreptitiously to the boy in exchange for the coal pot that now sat on the table. Three lonely coins sat dully in the bottom, so far, all the villagers had afforded.

One or two of Nettlestone's orphaned boys had signed an X beside their names as the preacher had inscribed them on the parchment he carried in his sleave.

Will and Alan watched as another ill-afforded coin was dropped into the coal pot. The look on the cooper's face as he did so showed the outlaws exactly the reason for the 'donation', as the barrel maker was stared down by the preacher, a look of guilt came over the poor man's features. He shuffled off.

"Orphans forsaken by God will find peace in the welcoming arms of God as they enter the Holy City…"

The two outlaws turned to each other before silently climbing down the back of the small hill that overlooked the village, the drone of the preacher drowned out as they put distance between them and the edge of the town.

"They can't afford that! No one can!" Alan exclaimed as soon as they were far enough away. "As if the Sheriff's taxes weren't enough, I mean, common, he may as well be asking for the food off their tables, that's if they hand any to be taken."

"The King has to pay for his Crusade somehow," Will said quietly, "but there is nothing left to give." He agreed with his friend yet he was torn between fighting for his people and supporting his King. But what good was supporting the King in a war in another land if there was no longer an England for their leader to return to?

The two walked on lost in their thoughts for a while before Alan spoke again, "If those boys go to war, they will not return." He said with uncommon conviction. "They may not have families here but no village under Nottingham can afford to lose anymore men. We should tell the others, Robin should know."

………………………………..

"Who's this preacher again?" Robin asked as he slung his bow over his shoulder, a confused and worried look darkening his face.

"Well we didn't catch a name, but the rings on his fingers would have fed Nettlestone for a year, not to mention the robes he was wearing." Alan told him. He kicked at the fire-pit as he spoke, putting out the last embers and covering it with leaves to leave no trace. "He was calling for people to follow him to the Holy Land. The coins were more out of guilt than anything else though."

"I doubt he would have got much, there's little left to give." Little John said as they began the trek toward the village in question.

As they walked through the trees to the side of the all too well-travelled road, Robin thought over the information. "Will, go on ahead. Find out if this preacher's still at Nettlestone, if not, find out where he's going next."

Will nodded and pulled his hood over to disguise his face as he took off through the undergrowth.

"The King's Court in the Holy Land needs no support from us or these villagers. There are riches in those lands that are beyond imagination." Robin paused, thinking. "The Lords and Earls return to gather knights and troops for their battles, not the church. The church preaches forgiveness within the walls of Jerusalem, it gathers followers for the pilgrimage but it doesn't sign up orphans to fight a war." He spoke his thoughts aloud though seemingly only to himself, as if trying to put some order to them.

"Something is not right." He knew it. He picked up his pace.

………………………

They had not been walking yet an hour before Much noticed Robin stumble slightly on an exposed tree root. No one else had seen, but they had not been watching for it.

Much knew his friend was still exhausted, he had continued to watch him sleep over the last few days and the dreams had not eased. There was a change though, Robin's cries whilst he slept were no longer those of pain and suffering, now it seemed as if his Master were pleading, begging for… for something… life. They had not spoken again about the matters but Much at least made sure the already lean man continued to eat.

It was almost as if all five years they had spent in the Holy Land had been replayed in his Master's dreams over the last week or so, and Much could not say it was not also taking its toll on him either.

A shrill whistle broke the air and the outlaws quickly found cover. A few seconds later, Will appeared amongst them and they read his easy stance to mean there was no immediate threat. Robin broke cover first and could see that Will was slightly out of breath.

He took a ragged breath before speaking, "He's left Nettlestone. Little John was right, he didn't get much, and there are two boys from the village travelling with him." He took a more steady breath as Robin waited for the rest. "He's headed this way, about a mile behind me."

"Saving us the trip, that's good of him." Alan brightened at the idea of the upcoming opportunity for mischief.

"We might even get camped in time for dinner." Much smiled, already thinking over his supplies, rubbing his hands together.

Robin gripped Will's shoulder in thanks as he turned to look at the road beside them, judging the best spot for an ambush.

"The cutting. Before the road splits to Nottingham and Loxley." The archer told his men. The outlaws nodded, heading out now with a purpose.

Robin looked one more time in the direction their quarry was travelling from.

"Let see just who you are, Your Grace."

……………………………..

Hoods pulled low, barely inches between them as they walked, a loud conversation drifting away from them, Will and Alan made their was along the Nettlestone Road, seemingly oblivious to the horse-drawn carriage approaching in front of them. They looked up as the horse whinnied and its master called it to a halt.

"Move if you will. As God is my witness I travel to Loxley to do the Lord's work." A deep voice called out to them. One of the Nettlestone boys was at the reigns whilst one stood beside the horse, wooden crosses hung about their necks, their eyes were downcast. The preacher stuck his head out the carriage door.

Robin looked up sharply at the voice. He was still hidden behind the cutting but there was something familiar about the voice and a face immediately came to mind. Impossible!

"Are you deaf? I said I have the Lord's work to carry out in Lox…" The preacher trailed off as Will and Alan dropped their hoods and allowed their weapons to show from beneath their cloaks. The preacher gaped like a fish as more outlaws appeared around the carriage.

Robin cleared his thoughts for the moment and, keeping his hood down so his face was completely obscured, he stepped on to the road in front of the preacher.

With one hand resting on the top of his bow the other on the hilt of his sword, Robin spoke.

"I think you have business here with us at the moment, Your Grace, but please, enlighten us." There was a hard edge to Robin's voice that no one had expected. "What part of the Lord's work exactly are you here to carry out this time?"

He had identified this man in front of him. Impossible as it seemed, his recent nightmares seemed to have solidified into the face before him. The face of a man he had sworn vengeance against if he ever laid eyes on him again.

In one fluid movement the tip of Robin's curved Saracen sword was at the Holy man's throat and a small trickle of blood was running down his neck, staining the ornate robes.

"Collecting more lambs for the slaughter?" Robin gestured with his bow to the two orphans. "Or are you collecting money to fund your own private war back in Jerusalem?" Robin stepped back, his sword still pointing toward the man's neck. He pulled back his hood, revealing his face. "Because surely King Richard would not send an excommunicated priest to raise funds that he does not need, Terric, former Abbot of York."

"You!" The once holy man hissed, darting forward before pulling up at the sharp sting of Robin's sword at his throat again.

………………………………..

Terric of York sat, hands bound, against the wheel of the carriage, Will and Djaq were removing everything of value from the carriage, the former abbot of York having already been liberated of his trinkets, and were securing them to the horse, now free of its burden.

"You're nothing but a thief Loxley. Taking from funds what would go to support troops in the Holy Land. Look what you've become. Pathetic!" The bound man had not stopped cursing at Robin since he had been forced to his knees in the dirt. Mud seeped into the already heavy material.

"If I believed for one moment that this money was going to support anyone but yourself in the south, maybe then I would be a thief. But at least I would not be a murderer like you." Robin bared his teeth as he spoke to the former Abbot, true hatred in his voice.

"No, you are the true thief here. Steeling the lives of these boys." He point to the Nettlestone boys without taking his eyes from Terric's face, "Just like you stole all those innocent lives at Acre. How many were there, Terric? How Saracen prisoners did you order be killed?"

Terric stammered and stumbled, trying to find an answer. Right now, he was truly scared of the man in front of him, leaning down, in his face.

"King Richard…"

"No!" Robin shouted in his face, now making his own men nervous.

"Not King Richard. You! You made the decision for him and he had no choice but to save face. Do you not remember how many? Shall I remind you?"

Robin took a step back, staring at the man below him. Finally he looked up at Djaq, saw the shine of new tears in her eyes as he spoke of her people.

"All of them." Robin said quietly. "Two-thousand, seven-hundred men, women and children."

TBC