Epilogue
The following year, King John died unexpectedly.
On an October day in 1216, in his unrelenting campaign to punish his lords who had forced him to agree to Magna Carta, he lost the treasure he always carted around with him. As his troops crossed the River Wash to punish his lords, the river tide unexpectantly rose up, covering the carts and horses hauling the king's gold and jewels. Even the crown itself was lost, buried under the mud at the river's bottom. The king wept bitter tears, stomped his feet in a rage, and foamed at the mouth as he screamed vile curses.
That night, at the urging of his guest, the beautiful and mysterious Abbess of Kirklees, King John attempted to drown his sorrow by gorging himself on fruit, eels, and cider. Within the week, he lay dying, screaming in pain.
There were some who claimed the king had been poisoned. He certainly had more than enough enemies to wish him dead, with his queen, Isabella of Angloumene, among their number. In fact, Isabella wasted no time marrying her lover, Hugh de Lusignan, the only one of the Lusignan clan to have escaped John's punishment of being roasted on a spit years before.
But whenever the rumors of poisoning reached the seashell like ears of the mysterious Abbess of Kirklees, she batted her large blue eyes and pursed her thin red lips together in disapproval. "Now, now," she would scold, "who are we to question the ways of the Lord?"
King John and Isabella of Angloumene's son, Prince Henry, succeeded his father to the throne. The nine-year-old wore a makeshift crown in a hasty ceremony conducted in Gloucester Cathedral, since London was currently under the control of Philip Augustus's Dauphin, Louis.
Nottingham continued to suffer, with Sheriff Jasper, King John's "man," viciously ruling the shire. Robin Hood and his gang of outlaws frequently foiled the sheriff's schemes, but Robin himself was a changed man.
Although his gang supported and fought alongside him, they continued to maintain their private lives with their families. For the next ten years, Robin chose to live in solitude in the forest, he who once could never have too many loving people surround him.
The years which had been so kind to Robin overtook him with the loss of his family, and the once handsome and youthful seeming lord now appeared far older than his years. It was rare indeed to see him smile, or to witness a sparkle in his eyes. Only at night, while he dreamed, did his beautific smile grace his lips.
One day, while Djaq was busy delivering her daughter Saffia's and young Allan's first child, Robin was wounded in a squirmish. Much alone was with him to help.
"Robin? Are you alright?" Much asked, panic springing at the sight of Robin's blood. "Stay here! I'll fetch Djaq!"
"No, Much. Djaq's needed elsewhere. I'll be alright."
"No, you won't! I've got to get you care!"
"Help me to Kirklees then," Robin stated. "I've heard the Abbess is skilled in treating the sick."
And so, Much helped Robin to Kirklees Abbey, where the Abbess seemed strangely excited by the outlaw's presence.
"Leave us," she ordered Much, and the poor man paced back and forth in the hallway, praying for Robin to recover.
"So, Robin Hood, you place yourself at my mercy," the Abbess said. "Allow me to care for your wound."
She carefully selected a potion from the many bottles she had collected. Pouring a generous amount onto a cloth, she dabbed at his wound.
"I don't know how to thank you," Robin said, slightly uncomfortable, sensing something to be wrong.
The moment his eyes met hers, he stopped, realizing his terrible mistake.
"Isabella," he murmured. "You're the Abbess of Kirklees."
Isabella of Gisbourne laughed. "Yes! Isn't it ironic? All these years, I've lived in luxury here at the Abbey, while you've struggled and starved in the forest. And now...you come to me for help! Oh, revenge is so sweet! But never fear, Robin, I have shown you mercy. You did me a great favor, killing my louse of a brother. And so, the poison I just applied to your wound will be swift, unlike that I gave poor John. Oh, his death was a slow, lingering one. He held on for days! You won't even last an hour! Yet it shall be no less painful. Didn't I promise you, I would get you at last?"
With another laugh, she strode from the room, admitting a nervous Much back into Robin's presence.
When Much saw Robin, he knew.
"Robin, no! Robin, you can't be...you can't!"
"Much," Robin whispered, "my bow."
Not even bothering to fight back his tears, Much handed Robin his beloved bow. Aiming an arrow, Robin summoned the last of his strength and let it soar out the open window.
"Bury me where it falls, Much," Robin told his grieving friend.
"Robin, don't leave me! What will I be without you?"
"You are more of a man than I ever was, my friend. Much, I've loved you always like a brother, but I have used you sorely. Can you forgive me?"
Much couldn't believe his ears.
"Robin, you took me in when I was starving...when my family couldn't keep me! You befriended me when others mocked and scorned me! You gave me Bonchurch, and raised me from my humble beginnings to be a lord, like yourself! Used me? No! No, Robin! You have always been my truest, most trusted friend!"
Tears stinging their eyes, the two men embraced, but Robin was close to death and couldn't hold on. "Please don't go!" Much begged. "Death's the one place I cannot follow you!"
"You will follow me one day, Much, but it won't be simply into Death. Live your life, my friend, love your wife and children, but one day, I swear, I will see you in Heaven."
Much watched as the man he loved more than he loved himself breathe his last earthly breath, and was blessed to see a miracle transpire before his very eyes. As the life slipped away from his friend, Much saw Robin's eyes light up with their old familiar sparkle. He saw his friend seem to grow visibly younger before his eyes, and heard him call out in recognition, the name so beautiful on his lips, "Marian."
"Thank you, Lord," Much cried, "for taking away his sorrow and his loneliness. Thank you for taking away his pain."
~FIN~