Hello dear readers, thank you for your subscriptions and reviews, and here's chapter five!
But first, a disclaimer:
There is a scene in this chapter concerning Djaq's reaction to English rain that was directly inspired by a lovely one-shot Allan/Djaq fic by Keeping Amused called "Discovery in a Dark Alley," that comes very highly recommended by me! Thanks KA for letting me nick your idea, this chapter is for you!
Chapter Five: Will Scarlett
The outlaws gathered together in a nearby clearing, struggling to catch their breaths. Naturally, Robin was the first to recover, standing up straight and announcing their next move. Djaq could almost see the wheels churning in his head as he spoke: "A nobleman is visiting the sheriff – we need to figure out who is and what he wants…and when he's coming. Something's going on here – maybe something to do with the king. We'll get to Nottingham and see what Marian can find out –"
His face grew suddenly more animated and his eyes shone at the mention of the name. Djaq hid a smile as the shoulders of the other outlaws slumped.
"First, we eat," John announced firmly. "We're not far from the Edwinstowe campsite."
Robin tapped his foot impatiently, but his empty stomach made him reluctantly nod his head in agreement.
"Fine – we eat, then to Nottingham. There's something funny about all this…those men-"
As he spoke, Djaq absentmindedly pulled the glass vial out of her pocket and then jumped in fright as Allan suddenly staggered away from her.
"Oy – keep that away from me!" he yelped, nearly falling over himself in the attempt to put distance between himself and the tiny vial.
Robin snorted with laughter.
"It's not a real potion Allan!"
Allan glanced around at the others nervously, and then cast his gaze back to the bottle in her hand.
"Oh," he muttered, straightening his shirt and trying to regain his dignity – a difficult feat considering the snickering of the others. "Well, I know that now."
Djaq glanced at him a little wearily. Superstition and falsity ruled the lives of so many people – she never thought she'd live to see herself consort with the likes of these men…but watching his expression now, she was surprised to glimpse a grin snake across his face. Once he realized the nature of her bluff, he looked as pleased with it as though he'd come up with the idea himself.
His unexpected reaction reminded her guiltily of Will. She'd dismissed him as a peasant boy, and then been witness to unsurpassable skill. Now she felt ashamed for having considered herself superior to him. Just because he couldn't read or write didn't mean he wasn't the master of his own craft, honing his skill until it was as refined as the calligraphic painter she'd witness as a child. Recalling the way her father's Asiatic visitor had written out Safiyah's name with his fine brush and black ink, she could not help but be reminded of the way Will had wielded the axe that was now slung over his shoulder: it was an instrument of purpose that he had mastered so entirely that he had ceased to consider it a mastery, and instead believed it to be a typical aspect of his being. She cringed at her own arrogance, especially when acknowledging her own less-than-refined abilities with a sword.
"Let's go!" Robin cried, shaking her out of her thoughts as he bounded off through the forest, leaving them to follow in his wake. Djaq fell into place behind Much, turning the vial slowly between her fingers, casting her mind back to the ambush. Her troubled thoughts must have reflected on her face, for a soft voice suddenly spoke at her side.
"Robin wasn't going to hurt that man," Will told her, glancing at her tentatively. "He gets a bit carried away sometimes. But there's a line he won't cross."
She looked back at him, surprised that he'd guessed what she had been thinking, and risked a small smile in his direction.
"He told me as much on my first day among you," she admitted. "He is such a passionate man though. When I saw him…I suppose I just panicked."
"It was a clever trick though," Will said, and then looked away from her hurriedly; though his stride slowed slightly in order to keep pace with hers.
"Thank you," she replied, feeling awkwardness crawling into this first attempt at communication.
She supposed that ending the conversation was a good thing, but her past briskness with the youth and her newfound appreciation for his talents left her with the nagging feeling that she needed to make up for her previous behaviour. She gestured to the axe.
"It must be useful to have an axe as a weapon. It dispatches guards, and then chops up firewood."
A smile flitted across his face, just a tiny one, but it changed his entire expression: strangely enough, happiness made him look older.
"I can't remember a time I didn't have it," he told her. "Before coming here, I was a carpenter in Locksley with my father, before he…" he cleared his throat uncomfortably and continued. "We made most of the furniture in Locksley Manor from these very trees."
He raised one hand to brush his fingers through the leaves of an overhanging branch as they passed by.
"These trees," she echoed. "They're so strange to me. Before coming here I'd never seen a forest before."
Will was speechless for a moment, clearly finding the thought of a world without trees incomprehensible.
"I get so lost in this forest," she continued, copying his gesture and plucking a leaf from a tree they were passing. "They all look the same to me."
Regardless of whether he understood her intention, Will nevertheless took the cue she offered and pointed out the nearest tree.
"That one's a birch tree," he told her. "You can always tell because they're a silvery colour and they don't have proper bark. Look –"
He approached the nearest one, and pulled papery strip from its truck, offering it to Djaq.
"It's good for kindling," he told her, and she returned the vial to her pocket so she could curl the strange substance through her fingers.
"This one here – this is an oak," he continued. "They're the oldest trees in the forest. See the leaves? You can tell the oak by the shape of the leaves."
He passed her another example – an oval-shaped leaf with serrated edges, which seemed suddenly familiar.
"The weapon's stash!" she said suddenly. "It was an oak tree that you carved out to hide the weapons."
"That's right," he said, sounding more impressed with her recollection that was strictly necessary. "There it is over there."
He pointed to another nearby tree, and with a jolt the foreign surroundings suddenly fell into place in Djaq's mind. The outlaws were fast approaching the very first campsite that she'd ever stayed in. They passed the hollowed-out oak tree that still held two swords, several bows, a few knives and an assortment of arrows, and climbed the ridge to familiar surroundings sheltered under a massive tree – a massive oak tree – she told herself.
"That's one of the biggest oaks in the forest," Will told her. "It's called the King Oak."
A playful smile tugged at the sides of her mouth.
"Is that what everyone calls it, or just what you call it?" she asked, and Will looked away, turning bright red.
She winced at his embarrassed reaction to her words. Like most teenagers, Will Scarlett was clearly someone who didn't like to be teased. She'd have to remember that in future, but in the next moment, she realized for the first time that a coppery stain was soaking through his shirt about his elbow. Stunned, she could only point at it in shock.
He glanced at his arm and cringed. "Oh…it doesn't hurt that much."
"Don't be daft," cut in another voice. Allan approached them and peered at the blood smeared on the cloth.
"She's a physician, ain't she? Let her 'ave a look."
The others gathered around, and Robin voiced his agreement with Allan's suggestion. Djaq's heart began to thud in anticipation – this was her first chance to prove herself as an invaluable member of the group. Any one of them could fight, but only she could stitch up the results of such fighting.
Robin guided Will to a nearby rock and forced him to sit, telling him to carefully roll up his sleeve. Djaq knelt down next to him, gazing intently at the wound. It was a small cut, but reasonably deep, no doubt caused by one of the traveller's swords in that final skirmish before the hurried retreat. In the space of a second she'd made up her mind – the cut didn't need sewing. With a simple bandage, it would heal on its own over the course of a few days. But she would be a damn fool if she didn't use this unfortunate circumstance to demonstrate her usefulness to Robin. Shoving aside a tickle of guilt – both for the unnecessary steps she was about to take, and for her secret delight that Will's injury provided her with this opportunity – she asked for a needle and thread.
It was Much who fetched his pouch of sewing equipment, Allan who used his flint to set fire to the strip of birch tree and Robin who held it carefully as Djaq sterilised the needle in its heat before turning again to Will's bloody arm. As the four other outlaws crowded around to watch the procedure over her shoulder, she threaded the needle and gently pinched the wound between her fingers. Three tiny stitches later, she was wrapping a clean strip of cloth around the wound and glancing at Robin out the corner of her eye. It was hard to tell, but she thought he looked impressed, or at the very least, pleased. Then she made the mistake of glancing up at Will and her heart sank. She'd gone too far in her friendly gestures, for now Will was looking at her in the same way she had seen her lovelorn brother gazing upon various maidens throughout his youth.
"All done," she said quickly, standing up and wiping her hands clean in a bucket of water John had fetched for her.
"Right then!" cried Robin cheerily. "To Nottingham! Much, bring the food. We'll eat on the way."
She sighed to herself. Didn't he ever slow down?
For her first venture into Nottingham, Djaq made sure that her hood covered her head and that she didn't stray too far from John's side. Poor villagers didn't seem to care one way or the other about a Saracen in their midst, but she knew that towns were very different places from simple hamlets. Even so, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity in seeing the woman who held Robin's heart in her pocket. As they wound their way through the busy streets, she could see that the situation here was just as Robin had described it to the mysterious men in the forest: beggars sat on every street corner, filthy children ran barefoot through the mud and muck, and an expression of fear and unhappiness was on every pale, sickly face she saw.
As they crept into the shadows of an alleyway, Much whispered an explanation to her that Marian usually spent most of her days in Nottingham, consorting with the nobles at court in the attempt to gain inside information on the sheriff's plans.
"Okay lads," Robin said. "Split up and keep your eyes open. She's usually in the market this time of day." As they dispersed – Djaq noticing out the corner of her eye that Will took a few hesitant steps toward her before changing his mind and turning to chase after Allan – she came to a decision concerning that infuriating word. "Lads" must mean a gang or group. Whenever it was uttered, it seemed to refer to the whole company of them, and everyone acted accordingly to the orders that inevitably followed it. Yes, that must be it, she told herself, and fell into step next John to kept her eyes open for a woman that she'd never seen before.
After fifteen minutes of pointless wandering she and John heard a "psst!" and followed the sound to where the rest of the outlaws were squeezed into a narrow street, crowded around a blue-eyed, dark-haired noblewoman. Marian cast her eyes over the rest of the outlaws, and Djaq moved back into John's shadow, astonished to discover that she felt a little shy. The noblewoman looked very young, barely out of girlhood, and regarded Robin with a look of barely-contained irritation. Djaq frowned. Surely that wasn't the face of someone who was in love.
"Go on," Robin was saying. "Tell them what you told me."
Marian took a breath and addressed the outlaws: "I don't know much, but there is news of a nobleman visiting Nottingham within the next few days. Whoever he is, the sheriff seems pleased about it, though that could simply be because of the tribute that came with the messengers this afternoon. The whole castle is preparing for his arrival."
"Will he take any precautions to get the man here safely?" Robin demanded, and Marian gave a sigh of annoyance.
"I don't know Robin, all I've heard is the gossip in the castle. The envoy arrived, demanded to see the sheriff, and told him that the man who sent them could be expected to arrive within the next few days. It is all quite mysterious. When I first heard it, I expected it was some elaborate prank on your behalf."
"Not this time. We ran across the men in the forest. There wasn't any indication what road the man would be taking?"
"No. But there's only one road from the port to Nottingham and that's through Sherwood Forest. Unless he's planning on going the long way around…but then he wouldn't have said he'd be arriving so quickly."
There was silence for a moment as the outlaws pondered the situation. Then Marian gave a start, as if she'd just remembered something:
"Oh Guy did say one thing – that whoever it was might travel by night or in disguise to try and avoid all of you. After all, if this man knew enough to provide a coffer of money for you, then he knows all about you already."
Robin scoffed. "Gisbourne came up with that theory all by himself?"
Marian rolled her eyes. "Just thought you might want to know."
"Well, be careful in there," Robin sniped. "Gisbourne might blind you with his dazzling insight."
"Be careful out there," she shot back with a smirk. "It looks like it'll rain tonight."
And with that, Lady Marian turned on her heel and marched away. She had not even noticed Djaq.
It did indeed rain that evening, the first English downpour that Djaq had ever seen, and it wasn't long before she was standing in the middle of it, her face raised to the sky, dumbstruck at the sensation of tiny raindrops softly beating against her body. The wonderment of the trees were nothing compared to this.
Along with the rain she felt another sensation soak into her: it was a growing sense of joy that was so far removed from the despair of the past few months that it seemed a gift from Allah, and tears soon joined the flow of raindrops pattering down upon her face. Later on, she'd feel embarrassed at her conduct, especially when recalling the assorted faces of the outlaws, watching her with expressions ranging from amusement to befuddlement, but at the time there was nothing else she could have done but let herself get drenched and occasionally laugh out loud like a town drunkard.
Finally Much came to fetch her, despite Robin's admonitions to let her be, and dragged her back toward the shelter.
"You'll catch a cold and I don't want to be the one to look after you," he told her.
She grabbed hold of him and struggled for words.
"There's…there's so much!" she gasped, and then dissolved into idiotic giggles.
"It's just rain," he grumbled, but there was a smile in his blue eyes.
She lay under her blanket that night, trembling with cold and in excitement, feeling as though a piece of her – a dark, ugly piece of her that had been squatting in her soul like a toad – had been washed away, and something better was bursting to life in its place. "It's happening," she thought blissfully, unconsciously twirling an oak leaf between her fingers. "I'm coming back to life again."
Apologises for falling to the old "woman tends a wounded man's injuries" cliché, but hey – she IS a physician, and it seemed the natural way to begin The Crush.
Also, the "King Oak" is actually a real tree in Sherwood Forest, and said to be the main hiding place of Robin Hood and his men (though it's called the "Major Oak" after the Major Hayman Rooke who came WAY after Robin's time, thus the name change here). Thanks Wikipedia!