Missing by Ecri
A Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves Story
Previously…
Will took the tray and turned toward the hallway that led off the kitchen. It was a long doorless hall and, to his surprise, there was an opening at the end with a guard leaning lazily against the closest wall. The man barley glanced at him, just waving him through the opening, which led to a steep staircase. On a hunch, Will looked at the man.
"Crocker?" he asked.
The man's eyes narrowed. "Do I know you?"
Chapter Three
Will shook his head. "No, but I was hoping you might know what happened to a man named Locksley.
The man laughed. "I might. I might not. Not tellin' you, though. Not now, anyway." He gestured angrily at the staircase. "Take it up. Now."
There really wasn't any way to argue. He had to learn more about the man and find a way to convince him to help.
It was a long climb, and he didn't rush it. He was fit enough, but the only things he climbed were trees and hills. He wasn't long accustomed to homes with stairs, and certainly not to the long, narrow one he climbed now. The steps seemed to decrease in size the further up he climbed and the walls seemed to close in on him. He was beyond relieved when he finally reached the door at the top. He knocked once, and heard a muffled chuckle before someone called. "Come in."
Will opened the door surprised to see no one. Confusion and consternation left him silent for a moment or two, but then he called out, "Hello?"
A muffled sigh. "You're new." It wasn't a question, but at last Will understood. There was a wall before him. Whoever was waiting for this tray of food had to be behind it. He looked for a door, but there was nothing. The sound of a wood panel drawing aside startled him but not nearly as much as the sight of a hand waving from a slot near the base of the wall at the floor. It was a small opening. Nothing more than a hand would fit through it…well, except for a tray of food like what he carried. Understanding dawned and Will stepped to the wall and knelt by the opening and slid the tray through. He heard a scrape on the other side as the tray was retrieved. "You can wait for the tray or come back later for it," the invisible man said. "It's your choice. Most come back." The last was admitted softly and as though the man regretted that.
Will sighed. It seemed an unusual punishment if punishment it was. If it were a prison, it most certainly was one from which escape was near impossible. There was no door. The wall extended through the room. Whoever was on the other side had no way out.
"I'll wait," Will told the man. "Is it…I mean…are we permitted to talk?" Will didn't want to get in trouble nor did he wish his ignorance to cause anyone to take anything out on the man behind the wall. Whatever he'd done, he was paying dearly for it.
The man laughed. It was almost a hearty laugh, would have been if the man were well fed, well rested and anywhere but in prison. "I am new to London," Will confessed. "I'm not…accustomed…to being around so many…rich boys." Will said the words as he'd once said them to his brother, before the older man understood their relationship and his resentments. He knew now that Robin wasn't deserving of the vitriol he'd heaped upon him, but the people who rubbed elbows with Lady Marian here at court were.
"Rich boys," the man said, getting the inflection to match the way will had said it. "I like that. It says so much more than it says, if you know what I mean."
Will laughed. They fell into an easy discussion of all sorts of things, and Will was sorry when the man finished his meager meal and shoved the tray back through the opening. "Will you be coming tomorrow with my evening meal?" The man asked.
"Yes, I'll be yours for a week. I've…caused some problems in the kitchen, and I think climbing the stairs is meant as a punishment."
"Yes, well, I'll look forward to it. You've given me the first pleasant hour I've had since I was locked up in here."
"How long…that is…when…" Will sighed and stopped speaking. There wasn't a good way to ask.
"It's been two months if my reckoning is right. Near to that at the very least."
Trapped for that long in such a tiny room, the thought made Will shudder.
"You'd best be getting back, my boy. If you're here much longer, they'll come looking. If you like the duty, they'll take it from you. I shall look forward to your return."
Will thanked the man and left. Descending the stairs, as narrow as they were, was even harder than climbing them had been. Will wondered if it would be easier to descend backwards, but there wasn't enough room to turn around to find out. When he finally reached the kitchen, he breathed a sigh of relief. Those stairs would take a lot of getting used to.
Each day near sunset, Will was given a tray of food for the man in the tower. Each day, he'd try to talk to Crocker, but the man rarely even acknowledged the attempt.
One day, that changed.
"What will you trade for the information, boy?" Crocker asked him before he could even find a way to ask the question.
"What do you want?" Will had precious little to offer, and if the man wanted anything at all of value, he'd have to get it from Marian. What little money he'd brought with him had gone to food, bribes, and other incidentals.
The guard shrugged. "Your brother was supposed to pay for my help. He never had the chance. I want what he promised."
"What did he want from you, and who said he was my brother?" Will was both excited at the idea to be following so closely in Robin's footsteps, and suspicious of the man who stood before him. Was he telling the truth? Had he promised help and not delivered? Was he the cause of Robin's disappearance or was he what he claimed—just a mercenary with an eye towards bettering his own circumstances regardless of who he hurt or helped?
The guard laughed. "I have sources, too, boy. Whoever gave you my name isn't the only person in the city who knows more than they should. He promised me help."
"If he made the promise I'll honor it. Just tell me what you can."
The man considered Will for a moment, then nodded and released him. "When you get down, I'll tell you what I can."
Will nodded and all but raced up the stairs. He knew the Tower's occupant looked forward to his visits, but he hoped he could get away quickly tonight. He instantly felt bad for thinking it. He and the captive would discuss things, weather, nature, Will even found himself trying to remember tidbits of court gossip to keep the man informed. He didn't always know about whom he spoke. The names meant nothing to him, but he was careful to get them right. The man laughed at his tales, and Will was pleased he was able to give the lonely prisoner such moments. This evening, as he climbed, he had to stop himself hurrying. He'd managed to filch a small hen from a plate intended for the dining rooms, and he also pocketed a nearly full bottle of wine and a quarter of a loaf of bread, not the best bread, but better than what they'd been giving the man.
When he reached the door, he opened it and stepped inside. He was about to call out his customary greeting but was cut off by the sound of a low moan. Concern flooded him. "Are you all right?" He called out, but the man didn't reply. "Hey!" He shouted as another moan sounded. He put the tray down and lay down on his stomach in front of the small slot. He couldn't see much, but his friend was in some sort of distress. As he peered into the slot, he saw something move. He flinched backwards almost upsetting the food tray when a snake slithered inches from his face baring its teeth like a rabid dog. Will reached to his belt and pulled out his concealed knife. In a move as vicious as it was fast, he skewered the animal and pulled it out of the hole, flinging it across the room. The knife hilt still buried through it, it made a clattering sound as it hit the stone floor.
"Are you all right?" He called again in desperation. He moved closer once again to the slot and peered inside. "I'll call for a doctor…"
"No, don't." The voice paused, but spoke again quickly. "I'm…fine. Really. I woke when it bit me…I'm feeling better now it's let go of me."
"It…it bit you?" Will couldn't hide his surprise. He moved towards the dead thing. Its tail was still twitching, but Will could easily identify it. He exhaled slowly, relief giving him a momentary lightheadedness. "It's just a grass snake, not an adder." He returned to the slot and tried once more to peer inside. "I have your meal…do you think you can eat after an ordeal like that?"
"I won't get another chance," the man admitted. "I'll give it a try."
Will smiled and slid the tray, the hen, and the bottle of wine through the opening. There was a long silence, then the man whispered, "What's all this?"
"I found some extras in the kitchen. I thought you could use them."
"I…thank you, my boy. It's a kindness the likes of which I've not been shown in a long time."
"I'll try to bring you something from time to time," Will knew there wasn't much he could do for someone in this man's position, but he couldn't stand the thought that he might otherwise live his life with nothing to mark it, no frivolity, no kindness. It was too much, this sort of punishment.
"Don't get yourself into trouble, lad." The man's voice seemed thick with emotion.
"Me and trouble, we've been together a long time," Will confessed. His voice was a little shaky, and, so were his hands. He hadn't worked with his knife in the weeks since he'd come to London, and he'd not been sure what to expect when he'd come in to hear the man moaning, either in pain of fighting off illness. He didn't know why it had shaken him so, but the man had become important to him over the week. He'd planned to try to keep the duty, convince the kitchen to keep him on delivering meals to the man.
He'd tried to get the prisoner to give him his name, but he'd refused him the information. "It's best I keep that to myself. If you knew, your life would be forfeit as soon as someone else learned you held such information."
Will had laughed, but he hadn't pushed. Now, seeing a grass snake in the man's tower prison, he could only wonder how important the man must be. There may have been a way for the animal to find access to the castle, but it did stretch credulity. Barring natural means, it had to have been placed there. Why place a snake that could not kill but could cause pain? If murder wasn't the point then what was? Pain? He shook his head in consternation.
As Will waited for the man to finish eating, he found he couldn't keep from pacing. Thoughts of prisons and clandestine attempts to murder captives had lead to some unpleasant surmises as to Robin's whereabouts. He retrieved his knife and began cleaning it, at first relishing the act that kept his mind occupied, but somehow, his memories betrayed him and he recalled when Robin had given him the blade. It had been just before he'd left on his wedding trip with Marian. Robin had been anxious about leaving as he'd not had a brother for long, and the proposed separation for the brothers would be the longest they'd endured since Robin had learned of his father's second son.
Will had teased him at first, finding his own sort of comfort from his own misgivings over the separation in the familiar banter he and Robin had established, but he'd stopped when he'd realized how very much Robin was troubled. "I didn't mean anything by it, brother," Will had whispered suddenly unsure if he had crossed a line.
Robin had smiled sadly, and he'd put a hand on Will's shoulder. "I know. I don't know what's wrong with me. I fought a war on foreign land, and I was less worried about leaving home to do that than I am about leaving you for a few months so that Marian may visit her family in France and London." He'd pulled a crudely wrapped package from his pocket and offered it to Will. "I'd feel a bit better about it if you would take this."
Will looked at it for a moment, and then offered a crooked smile in return. "What's this?"
"Open it and see," Robin laughed.
Will had torn it open with the abandon of a small child—still unaccustomed to receiving gifts of any kind. Something for nothing was not an idea with which he was long familiar. His eyes had widened at the sight of the gift. It was a fine blade, well sharpened, and with a beautifully carved hilt. On one side, it held a stylized L for Locksley along with a small coat of arms for the Locksley family. On the other side was an equally stylized WS with a tree, an arrow, a knife, and a sword interlocking in an intricate background.
"It's beautiful," Will had told his brother, a tear in his eye.
"I had it made just for you. So you won't forget who you are, Will Scarlett. You're the man you've always been, but you're a Locksley as well."
Will had nodded, and allowed Robin to drag him into a fierce hug before he and Marian had departed. He'd watched them move down the road to London until there was nothing left to see.
Now, cleaning the knife, reminded of his brother's predicament and his inability to help, his breath caught and he had to purse his lips to keep his frustration inside.
"The snake has not harmed you?"
Will jumped slightly at the question. "No, no, I'm fine." He rubbed a hand roughly over his eyes and was grateful the man could not see him.
"I think you may be less fine than you'd like me to believe." The voice held equal parts amusement and concern, and for a moment Will considered sharing his thoughts. Then he reconsidered. The man had his own problems. He couldn't help Will find Robin, and burdening him with something like that wouldn't do the man any good.
"Are you well? Do you want me to find bandages? Notify a doctor?" To Will's surprise, a hearty laugh reached him through the wall.
"A doctor wouldn't be permitted to see me. No, I'm well enough for now. He passed the now empty tray through the slot. "I think you should be careful how you dispose of the chicken bones. As for the wine bottle, I'll let you have that tomorrow once I've drunk all the wine. I thank you for your kindness."
Will reached down and picked up the tray. "I'll be by tomorrow, then." He thought to wish the man a good night, but it wasn't a likely thing for either of them.
At the bottom of the stairs, Crocker was still waiting for him. "Your brother knows how to get into trouble."
"It's a family trait," Will admitted.
The man smirked at the words. "Well, I can tell you this much. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wanted to help King Richard, but Prince John learned of that. Robin of Locksley was locked up for his troubles."
"Where? Here? In the dungeons?" Excitement gave way to consternation. "I was in the dungeons. I didn't see him. No one seemed to know who he was."
"My guess is someone down there told you about me."
"Yeah…"
"So, there are levels to the dungeons. If you didn't find him, then you didn't go deep enough. He's down there somewhere…or his bones are." Crocker laughed when Will's eyes closed involuntarily at the suggestion that his brother was dead.
"You wear your emotions on your face, boy. You can't do that and get anywhere with palace intrigue."
"Can…I mean…will you help me?"
The man straightened and took a step back and away from Will. "I gave you all the help I intend to give you."
"But…how will I find him?"
"Not my concern." He started to walk away.
"It is if you want payment," Will said and stiffened slightly when the man turned and glared at him.
"You owe me for the information, not for the act of finding your brother. You're in my debt, boy. If I don't get what I want, I'll turn you in myself."
"Give me time to find him and you'll get whatever you want," Will promised, pushing aside thoughts of how he might fulfill such a promise if he didn't find Robin.
"Make sure I do," was the only reply.
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
Azeem had learned all he could from the few servants who would talk to him. He was a foreigner, and the only thing any peasant might feel was beneath him was a man from a distant land. No, if he were to learn anything, he would have to do it from the shadows. He took to lurking in the stables, polishing tack, mending whatever needed mending, but doing it from somewhere he'd be less likely to be noticed. He needed to be invisible, which was not as difficult a prospect as it seemed. People tended to talk freely in front of others they assumed didn't understand them.
Over their weeks in London, he'd thickened his accent, spoken a bit more in his native tongue, and pretended on many an occasion not to understand the things being said to or around him. He'd received a few blows for his troubles, but nothing painful, and it had established him as stupid, ignorant, and inarticulate. He could listen to talking all around him and no one would suspect that he understood a word.
Impatience was not something that usually hindered him, but he'd found himself asking Allah for strength to deal with the waiting and the lack of information his life had become. He should be on his way home. He should have returned shortly after he'd killed that abominable witch. Somehow, that hadn't seemed possible. Something, Allah in his infinite wisdom, Azeem was sure, kept him here. He felt he was needed. He felt the nagging persistence of unfinished business. He didn't know what it might be that he hadn't done. He'd fulfilled his promise to the Christian and kept him alive in his bid for a better life for his people and destroyed the witch and her spawn when they tried to kill him and defile his Lady. He told himself to be patient, and that Allah would provide the answers, or if, indeed, the danger passed without coming to fruition, Allah would take these strange anxieties from him and he would feel free to return to his home.
His current impatience, however, stemmed from his inability to find a hint as to the Christian's whereabouts. He could see Lady Marian and the Young Christian were growing more and more worried, and though he was concerned for his friend's wife, it was the Young Christian who was his immediate concern. He was looking distracted, foul tempered, and the proximity to all of these so-called nobles was putting him on edge. If he were to make the slightest mistake, or if one of these nobles were to take offense at his presence, Azeem wasn't sure how he would keep the boy safe. He trusted that Allah would provide, but he found his young friend's impatience was becoming his own. "Allah," he whispered, "forgive me, and please grant that I may be of help to these good people."
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
Lady Marian raised her head expectantly at the soft sound of footsteps coming from nearby. She released a sigh of relief at seeing Will Scarlett turn a corner and nod in her direction. She stepped closer to him. "We're alone. Have you discovered anything?"
He shook his head, his gaze falling momentarily to the floor. He seemed to force himself to look her in the eye. "Not really. There's a fear here. They're afraid of Prince John and several of the others." He hesitated then, and Marian recognized the look.
"What? What aren't you telling me?"
He sighed heavily and revealed what Crocker had told him about the dungeons.
"He actually said Robin's disappearance was to do with King Richard? He knows Robin is in the lower dungeons?" Marian had heard tales of those cells, and could only hope they were exaggerations. Windowless rooms with no source of heat or light were not the sorts of places she wanted to imagine her husband had been for all this time.
She frowned. He looked haunted, tired, and Marian couldn't help but want to take him home to rest, but they were nowhere near home, and she couldn't be caught taking a kitchen boy back to her bedchambers. She put a hand to his face, surprised when he jerked backwards at the touch. It had been fast but not fast enough. "You're warm, Will, are you ill?"
He snorted. "No, I work in the kitchens. The ovens are on almost constantly. I climb the stairs a dozens of times a day to fetch and carry for the nobles, and…Marian…did you know there's a prisoner in the tower? A man sealed up behind a wall, no windows, no doors, nothing but a small slot at the floor to slide a food tray into, and the food is just a bit of bread and water most days, though twice a week I can bring a stringy stew to him. Did you know it? Is this how nobles treat each other? It's no wonder they treat peasants like dirt if they lock their own kind up like that!"
Confusion clouded Marian's eyes. A tower prison? She'd never heard tell of it. Though, if a man had been sealed behind a wall there wasn't likely to have been multiple prisoners. "Wait, how do you know the man is a noble?"
Will rolled his eyes. "He talks prettier than Robin…and you." He blushed and looked away. "I mean…he doesn't sound like he'd be at home in Sherwood Forest with the likes of Little John, Bull, and Much." He looked at her once more. "We talk for about an hour a day when I bring his food. I don't think it would be permitted if anyone knew, but they seem to have forgotten about him. He speaks all…" he waved his hand. "I don't know, flowery. He didn't learn to speak in Cheapside. Words I never heard of and some I don't really understand, but the way he talks I know what he means…does that make sense?"
Marian nodded, distracted. "Who has angered John enough that he would lock a nobleman up like this and expect no reprisals?"
Will shook his head. "I don't pay much attention to politics."
Marian barely heard him. "You give him his food and speak to him once a day? Have you been there today?"
Will nodded. "He's had his meal."
"Then I'll come with you tomorrow. I'd go know, but if anyone caught us going up when no one's supposed to be going that way…"
"Wait, wait a minute!" Will said a bit too loudly, then, looking around to be sure no one was coming, he dragged her a bit down the hall and into a small alcove. "You can't go anywhere! I am the only one permitted up and down those stairs."
"Are there guards?"
"There's one at the base of the staircase. That's this Crocker I've just told you about."
"Surely we can think of a way to distract…" A bright smile lit her face and she nodded slowly. "I have it! I'll go in your place!"
"You can't! You would be caught! You're a lady!"
"I'm also very small. I can pass for a kitchen boy if I'm dressed the part!"
Will shook his head. "You don't look like a boy, Lady Marian! Robin wouldn't have been grinning like a fool at the chance to be alone with you if you did!"
"Robin isn't here." She whispered, and cursed herself at the hurt she saw in his eyes just before he turned away. She knew he felt lost and useless since he'd failed to find his brother. "I mean to say, Robin doesn't need to be told. If this noble can be released, we might be able to recruit him and any friends of his to King Richard's cause, and perhaps he can assist us in our search for Robin."
"You mean to break a man out of a prison with no doors on the off chance he might help you find Robin? The man's been up there for two months…Robin's only been missing for…"
Marian winced. "Two months."
Will eyes widened. "But your letter, you said…"
She waved him off and interrupted. "I didn't want to worry you, so I waited a few weeks before sending the letter. I hoped I'd find him without having to burden you with it."
"Burden me?" Will stopped talking and looked away. Marian could see a soft tremor in his shoulders, which he managed to stifle before he turned back to her. "Look, I'll think about it. Let me go on my own tomorrow. If I think I can get you past the guards, I'll bring you along the next evening."
He was mad or upset, she knew, but so was she. Robin's missing had played on her mind, and for some reason she thought he man in the tower might know something. It was irrational, she knew, but it was all she had at the moment.
She composed herself and made her way back to her room telling herself that Will wasn't really mad at her, and that all would be well once they found Robin. She glanced back at him, and saw him watching her with a look in his eyes that spoke both of hurt feelings and resignation.
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
Azeem was late getting back to Will. He'd lingered at the stables hoping to overhear something, and for once, his instinct had paid off. He thanked Allah for everything and made sincere apologies for his impatience of earlier that day. Allah had indeed provided.
He'd been rubbing down a lovely black steed and had heard hushed voices. Instantly stilling, he'd listened hoping against hope for something useful.
"The ship leaves in four days time. We'll have to have both of them on it. Once it sails, Prince John will have no obstacles to the throne."
"I don't like it. They'd both be dead if you'd let me handle it. Throwing them onto a slave ship might seem neat and tidy, but in a lot of ways, death is cleaner."
"You worry too much! Once they are gone, Prince John is ours. As long as he has the title, the riches…he is easily manipulated. We will control him. We will control all of England!"
"Control would be easier if you'd let me kill him and that Locksley fellow outright," the other man muttered as they walked away.
Azeem listened to their footsteps fading as they walked away, but he didn't move until he was certain they were gone. Wherever Robin was, they had to find him soon.
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
The room was dark and dank, but its sole occupant hadn't spared that a thought. He was much too preoccupied with the pain in his arm and head. He had no way to truly examine himself. His arms were chained to the wall, but the uninjured one could just reach the other. There was a break, or perhaps a crack, he couldn't tell. His head had stopped bleeding some time ago, but he could not be sure how long he'd been here. The days blurred together, and he was certain he'd been unconscious more than once. There was a guard who opened the door occasionally to leave food and water, but if there was any regularity to the intervals, he could not discern it. He'd begun to believe they brought food only when they remembered.
He shook his head to clear it, but only managed to bring a wave of pain. Clenching his eyes shut, he waited it out and tried to distract himself. To think of some way out of this. Prison. It was prison regardless of what the guards called it. Detention, he'd heard one say. Another had called it confinement, but that all seemed to civilized. There was nothing civilized here, not the guards, not the man who'd ordered his capture merely to keep his tenuous grasp on power that ultimately wasn't his.
Robin of Locksley stared around his windowless cell—seeing nothing—and wishing for a chink in the stone or even the tiniest of candles just so he could see something of his surroundings. Imagining what was in there was worse than seeing it.
He tried to distract himself, but thoughts of Marian didn't help. They only made him worry. If she looked for him, she could end up in trouble, too, and without anyone to watch her back, anything could happen.
King Richard had brought this on himself, Robin often thought. He was too often absent and Prince John, always covetous of the throne, found it all too tempting. He couldn't imagine things being that way between him and Will, though he did realize that Will must have grown up envying Robin's circumstances. Money, a roof over his head…Will had grown up without these.
Marian had insisted that Robin learn to let go of his self-recrimination, but he found it harder and harder to do so. Will had little in his life save the bravado that got him into trouble. He didn't even always believe in himself, and Robin cursed his own shortsightedness for the affect his hardheaded resistance to his father's healing after his mother's death that it had caused so much pain. He'd cursed his father for leaving him to deal with his grief alone, only to realize he'd done exactly that in return.
Melancholy had taken a firm hold on him in the weeks of his captivity, and Robin could only hope Marian was all right. He comforted himself with the notion, misguided or not, that if his captors had indeed taken Marian, they'd have paraded her misery before him to add to his own.
What, he wondered, would this do to Will? Not only losing him and Marian, the only family he truly had, but his standing as a Locksley and any claim he had on the Locksley lands and title were precarious at best. With King Richard removed, as Prince John seemed wont to do, and himself and possibly Marian imprisoned or dead, Will would be left alone and penniless once again. Would he be able to get through that? He knew Fanny and John Little would do what they could for him, and Azeem as well, though he knew the Moor wished to return to his home. Would Will accept any help? Would he crawl inside himself and become twice as prickly and ill-tempered as he ever had been? Would the Nobles left in Nottingham deny his claim as a Locksley and take the lands and title from him?
What of Marian? If she were imprisoned because of him, or possibly having been told he was dead, what would she do? Would her association with him remove whatever respectability she'd claimed before his return from the Crusades? Would her marriage to him be enough to taint her reputation?
The speculation and worry got him nowhere, but with nothing else to occupy his mind, he found it impossible to stop.
Sinking down as far as he was able and curling into himself to conserve any bit of warmth he had remaining in his body, Robin tried to ignore his discomfort and courted the sweet oblivion of sleep.
