Sunset found Allan A Dale and Will Scarlett outside the manor of Lord Fenwick, dressed in the clothes borrowed from Adela.
"It figures these wouldn't fit," Will muttered. "And my ma says I'm still going to grow!"
"Look at it this way; you make an even more pathetic figure in too small of pants. It will work to our advantage," Allan said slightly ungraciously. "At least you're not wearing the clothes of a dead man."
"Not superstitious are you?" Will asked, eyebrow raised.
"Not at all," Allan replied too quickly to be completely believable. "It's just…ooky."
"Ooky? That's the best word you could come up with. Are you sure you can handle this? I say we go back home right away. And when I say home, I mean I go back to Locksley and you go back to stealing from old ladies in whatever town you choose to, far from me."
"Calm down, boy. I have this handled; be prepared to be amazed by the skills of Allan A Dale. You saw the villagers in the town earlier, they were eating it up. And that was just a sampling of what I offer." Allan said snidely.
"And Adela? Was she just a sampling?"
"What about her?" Allan said, grabbing Will's too small shirt and shoving him against the wall to the side of the door. "You know, you're really starting to annoy me with your self-righteous comments. How about you head home like you want to instead of whining? You'll have no money to give to poor, dear mommy, but you will be rid of me forever. How does that sound?"
"Let go of me," Will gritted through clenched teeth. Allan stared hard at him for a few more seconds before releasing the taller man and taking a few deep breaths, looking back at the town.
"Just drop your grievances and put some faith in me," Allan said his voice seemingly calm. "You may be good with wood, but I'm good with words. As for Adela, she's an adult as am I. Just because you've never been with a woman doesn't mean you have to be rude and ignorant."
Will opened his mouth to protest and restart the argument when the door opened and the steward stuck his head out of the door.
"Ah, my lord brothers, welcome to the home of Lord Fenwick. Please come in, dinner will be served presently, but firstly his lordship would like to meet you."
Allan thanked the man in the haughty voice of his and the two stepped inside, with Allan making sure to step in front of Will so that he entered first. Biting his tongue, especially when Allan gave him a cheeky side smile, Will followed the two older men into a side room where the steward gave them drinks and bade them wait for the Lord before making his exit.
A simply made, yet elegant side table stood nearby and Will couldn't stop the hand that reached out and caressed the sturdy table. A quiet smile crept upon his face as the memories it evoked took Will back seven years.
"Your dad?" Allan asked quietly, suddenly next to the startled Scarlett.
Will nodded, fingers still dancing across the oaken top. "And me," he added softly, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone.
"Did you two make all of this furniture?" Allan asked, his keen eyes taking in the chairs and other table in the room.
"Yes, and some other things, such as the lord's bed," Will said, fingers stopping their waltz and tightening into a fist.
Allan observed this gesture curiously. "Well, I have to say your dad is an artisan. And if you helped, you're well on your way as well. I'm surprised you need the money what with nobility buying your services."
"Yeah," Will said shortly. "It took my dad nearly a year to finish all the pieces the Lord had commissioned. He started my apprenticeship then; one of these chairs is the first I ever made. If you look closely, you might even see my initials carved in there."
"So what's with the glum face? I would have thought the memory of baby's first chair would bring a smile, not a grimace." Allan finally asked bluntly.
"What are you on about?" Will asked, turning his face from the older man. "Now be quiet, the steward might be back at any moment."
"What are you hiding?" Allan asked, his voice raising slightly. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"
"I'm not hiding anything," Will insisted.
"So says the kid with clenched fists and a scowl so deeply furrowed, good luck ever getting those wrinkles out. Now tell me," Allan commanded.
Will crossed his arms in front of his chest and jutted his head up so that Allan couldn't look him in the eye. This continued for a few minutes before Allan gave a frustrated, strangled sound and stalked off to the other side of the room. Jolted by the sound, Will gave his own little sigh as he realized just how petulant and childish he was acting. He was an adult now, taking care of his family. And as an adult he would have to own up to his own little indiscretion to the sulking thief in the corner.
"The order was so big my father was unable to take in any more work. He didn't care so much because the money he was going to receive would have taken care of us for a few winters. He even had to defer Lord Robin's request to Harvey Potts, whose work is nowhere near my father's standard. We had a good time, my dad and I, but the food became less as our money dwindled. My mother took on some extra mending to help out, and I myself did a few odd jobs, but it was worth it we kept saying. My dad went on and on about the fine dresses he was going to buy my mom and the warm woolen coats he would buy Luke and me," Will spoke out to the room, eyes downcast so that he couldn't see Allan watching him closely.
"And finally the day came where the last of the order was ready, the large dining table. I came with him to deliver it; he was so excited, Allan. We delivered the table and my father waited here, in this same room, for the rest of his payment. Lord Fenwick never showed up. He sent one of his servants in to escort my father out. He was then told that his work was mediocre and beneath what befits a Lord, and that he should be lucky that his lordship didn't throw my father in jail." Will finished venomously.
"And you didn't get paid," Allan prompted softly.
"No, we didn't. We were still owed over twenty gold pieces for the work," Will told him, finally looking Allan in the eye.
Allan digested the information, staying in his corner. "So you, the innocent little lamb, had an ulterior motive," he mused.
"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier, but I would have thought revenge to be a game you enjoyed," Will said hesitantly, unsure what to make of Allan's response.
"Revenge in itself is fine, hell, there's nothing higher up than avenging one's honor. But revenge that threatens the job, is a risk that shouldn't be taken, you idiot! Why the hell didn't you tell me this, we could have done something different, but now we're too far in!" Allan lectured Will as loud as he dared. "How can you be sure he won't recognize you? If you, a pasty uptight kid gets me killed, so help me I will drag you into hell with me!" Allan whispered the last part as footsteps were heard.
The steward bowed his way into the room. "Dinner is ready, sirs. The Lord is waiting for you at the table."
Allan gestured for the man to lead the way and swept up close to Will's ear to whisper his final advice. "Don't talk and avoid eye contact with Fenwick, I'll do the talking. And whatever you do, you idiot, don't let him even come near to guessing who you might be. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Will whispered back, slightly abashed but defiance remaining in the set of his shoulders.
"Good, now let's go eat and pray his lordship is as ignorant of peasant's faces as most. Hopefully this will be worth your twenty gold pieces." Allan told him before they caught up to the Steward. And hopefully I'll never be stuck with a novice like you again, the experienced con man thought to himself as the three entered the dining area of the manor, just as a portly middle-aged man rose from the large table in the center.
"Welcome to my home, I am Lord Fenwick."
