Sorry it took so long! I'm a slacker, what can I say... I finally got back into archery after a couple years out for a wrist injury, and dammit do NOT shoot a 40# bow without a guard on your ENTIRE ARM. I literally have a huge bruise three inches long and 2 inches wide on the side of my elbow.
When Gilan had gone back to the clearing, thirty men had been waiting for him in complete silence. They closed in around him, ambushed him. He had managed to take five of them out, but there were just too many. They put him in chains and slung him over a horse like a bag of rubbish. Then, Alan and Little John had shown up. They were swiftly captured as well. The men waited another thirty minutes for someone else to appear for them to kidnap, but no one came.
"Where's Robin 'Ood?" the leader of the group had asked. Gilan, Alan, and Little John didn't reply. The leader hit Gilan repeatedly, hoping for an answer. Of course, Gilan could have taken the man's punches all day... But Gilan wanted them to get out of the clearing. If Halt, Will, Robin and Mauch returned while those men were still in the clearing, they would all be taken captive too, and then they'd all be screwed. So, that left Gilan with precisely one option.
"I'm Robin Hood," Gilan said, finally.
"Really?" the leader asked, scowling down at him. "I heard Robin 'Ood was a tiny squick of a lad. You aren't big, but you aren't precisely tiny either."
"People love to exaggerate," Gilan said, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
"I know you have more men. When will they return?" the leader asked.
"Two days," Gilan lied.
The man snorted. "Not waiting that long," he sneered. "Bill! Leave them a message..."
A scrawny, mean looking man – Bill – grinned in response. He pulled a dagger from his belt and threw it into the ground, tip digging into the leaves.
"Let's go," the leader said.
When they arrived at the Baron's castle, the three of them – Gilan, Alan, and Little John – were promptly thrown in a cell. Within a half-hour, a guard appeared and told them they were sentenced to death the following morning at dawn.
Gilan felt ill to his stomach. He had spent the entire night trying to get out of the cell, but no matter what he did he was trapped. They had taken everything away from him; his sword, his cloak, everything but his shirt, shoes, and pants. He had always managed to find a way out of this before, but now... now there was no way out. He cursed himself under his breath; how had he been so foolish?
He hoped that Will, Halt, Robin, and Mauch had realized it and come up with a plan to help. But he knew he couldn't rely on that... If they had stayed by the road, or gone on a trip, they might not be discovering they were gone until it was too late for them to make a plan.
All of his weaponry was gone, but they hadn't taken the pin from his cloak. He took off his oakleaf gently, and he poised the point on the backside of the pin. He crept towards the door, hoping to pick the lock. He wedged the thin strip of metal into the door and rattled it around inside.
"Hey, you!" a man's voice yelled, and Gilan snapped his hand and his pin back inside the iron bars. A guard came into view. The man was short and fat, with a greasy face colored with too much liquor, but his beady little eyes were fixed on Gilan's hand none the less. "What have you got there?!"
"Just a pendant for good luck," Gilan breathed.
"Fat chance! Hand it over," the man snapped. Gilan hesitated, then reached his hand out to hand over the pin. "Ha! I'm not that dumb. Like I'm getting anywhere near your hand. Drop it and kick it through the bars."
Gilan sighed, and did as he was told. The guard picked up the leaf and flipped it over, looking at the metal pin on the back.
"Pendant my ass," he growled, and snapped the metal pin off. He tossed the leaf back at Gilan, and then turned on his heel and left. Gilan sighed and walked back to the far wall of the cell and slid down to the floor, resting his head on the heel of his palm.
"Well, what's the next plan?" Alan asked, looking at Gilan expectantly. For once, Gilan was at a loss. He had nothing to get out, no plan, no idea.
"I haven't got a clue," Gilan finally said, truthfully. The three stared at each other in silence for a long while. It was Little John who finally broke the silence.
"Well... I've got an idea," he said slowly, looking up at the others. Gilan looked at him attentively, and Little John motioned for them to come closer. Little John cast a furtive look beyond the cell door, and then began whispering. "There's always another way out of the dungeons. Not a real way, but a drainage way, because moisture accumulates. It releases into a sewer system and flows out of the castle. It's dry now, and so we can get through them with plenty of space..."
"That's great and all, but how do we get there?" Alan asked.
"When they come to let us out of the cells. On person pretends they're ill, and the guards will come into the cell and tell the others to stand back. That puts us in the perfect position to attack the guards from behind and then lock them in the cell. By the time other guards come to see why the first guards were late, we'll already be in the sewers and have disappeared."
Gilan took a deep, shuddering breath.
"It's not much. It can go wrong pretty easily," Gilan said. "But it's all we've got. Let's do it."
