Robin lay shivering, dreaming fretfully, while Little John stood watch.
John had finally convinced Much to go home to Bonchurch, but he knew Much would not be able to keep away from Robin for long. He would soon return, and Little John wouldn't be surprised to find Will, Djaq, or Allan with him.
It comforted John to know they would come, no matter how hard Robin tried to force them away. They were closer than family, all of them, and it was time to rally round their former leader and hold him up to keep him from hurtling toward madness or death.
They shared his grief...not to the same extent, but they had all loved Marian and the girls. Every one of them were battling shock and disbelief at the sudden, brutal murders, but they pushed aside their own despair in their need to help Robin.
Tears spilled down John's cheeks, wetting his tangled beard, as he watched Robin tossing and turning in a fitful sleep. "God help him," the giant quietly muttered.
...
Robin had the sense he was dreaming, yet it was all so real to him, he couldn't say for certain whether he was awake or asleep.
He was making his way through the forest, driven towards the stream, but it was nearly impossible to reach the water's edge. He had to reach it! Something was urging him onward...some deep seeded need within him.
Branches slapped him in the face...trees shot up out of the earth, blocking his path, yet he surged onward, cutting and hacking his way with his sword. Still the trees grew, thicker and heartier than before. The forest grew darker as the sun was blotted from the sky.
His bow. It would take a single arrow shot, he knew...not a hundred swipes with his sword. Drawing an arrow from his quiver, he nocked it to his bow, aimed a shot through the ever thickening foliage, and fired.
He found himself standing on the edge of the stream. The air smelled different, fresh and sweet and clear. Sunlight danced on the sparkling crystal clear water.
Robin's heart felt light...joyous. He felt the urge to run and leap and roll down hills, to climb trees and leap backwards from the highest branches. He felt the urge to dive into the water and swim, knowing his arms would never tire in this water.
And then he saw her, and his heart leaped in his chest.
Marian stood wading in the stream, wearing a fresh gown of yellow and white flecked with tiny blue flowers. She had hitched the gown up to her knees, to keep it from getting wet. Wearing a gentle, dreamy smile, she bent to dip her fingers into the clear cool water. She was beautiful...ageless...unblemished and pure. So content...so tranquil. Robin's heart ached just to look at her. He wanted to call out her name, but found he couldn't make a sound.
"Marian! It's me, Robin," he silently voiced his thoughts toward her, hoping she would somehow hear.
She froze, and he saw her take in a quick, startled breath. Her smile widened, and she looked up expectantly. She had heard him! Slowly, she looked all around, trying to find him. She stared right through him, not making him out, but kept looking.
"I'm here!" his thoughts called to her. Still, she did not see, though her face shone with anticipation as she searched for him.
"Marian!" He tried to run to her, but every step he took caused the water to recede, and he remained on land while she waded in the water.
"Help me," his soul whispered, and swift as lightening, he saw her eyes lock onto his and he felt waves of exhilaration surge through him.
They smiled at each other through a mist, through a fog, neither one blinking or willing to look away. She was so young...so fresh...he felt old and unworthy. Yet just looking at her made the years wash away. Gazing at the form of his love, he felt he was being handed a special and rare gift.
"A secret," her soul was whispering to his.
"What? What secret, Marian?" He took another step toward her, only to be disappointed to see the water recede again, and to find her still distant from him.
"Five," she answered, so proudly.
"Five? I don't understand. Help me to understand."
"Five." She was smiling at him, her eyes shining with such love and pride. It reminded him how they had shone when she had delivered their children.
And then he got it.
Five children? His heart felt light as he counted them. There were Ellen and Grace and Edward, of course. And Richard, their son who had lived only a few short hours. But there must be one more. Of course! There was the child she had just begun to carry when Gisbourne had plunged his sword through her in the Holy Land. The child who had never been born.
Robin had heard five children laughing under the water. Five children, before he had heard Marian's happy laughter.
His joy knew no bounds. "Boy, or girl?" his soul asked, and he felt akin to how he'd felt when Matilda had first placed the newly born Ellen in his arms.
Marian was telling him, but he couldn't make out her answer. The fog was coming on thick, hiding her from him. He beat his hands through it, crying out her name with his voice which had returned with the fog.
"Marian! Marian!" he was crying.
Little John shook him awake, and Robin sat up, staring about him with wild eyes.
"You're in the forest," John told him calmly. "You're with me, Robin."
Instantly, Robin leaped to his feet and ran for the stream. Before John could stop him, he had plunged his body into the murky water, running and splashing and fighting his way through it, calling and crying out the name of his lost love.