Hello everyone, here's chapter eight, in which the plot thickens...thanks to all my readers, especially those that take the time to comment: Keeping Amused, soulprovider, SereneTeaCup, Derry and City Light Lyrics. Big thanks to you guys!
Chapter Eight: Locksley
She forced herself to stay awake for the remainder of the night, huddled underneath her cloak and shaking off sleep. Next to her, Will's eyes were closed and his head drooped, and next to him slouched Allan, who was supposed to be on watch, even though she suspected he'd fallen asleep as well. Had it been Much, or even John, sitting next to her, she would have let her head fall against his shoulder to make herself more comfortable, but that wasn't something she was going to try with either one of these two.
The forest gradually came to life around her, the animals and birds of the forest awakening even before the sun rose in order to start their daily business. She watched through bleary eyes as a strange bushy-tailed creature that looked like a large grey rat scurried up a nearby tree, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste, suddenly missing heat and the sun and the expanse of the desert.
Movement next to her signalled Will's awakening, and his sharp kick into Allan's shin roused their dozing watchman.
"All clear," he announced, sitting up straight. "No sign of anyone."
Will and Djaq exchanged a glance and rose to their feet.
"We should return to the camp," Will said. "But the others have probably moved on by now. If they even went back at all. It's more likely they'd find a hiding place farther away from the road."
"Still, it's a good startin' place," Allan said, straightening his cloak. "Though we should watch out for them witches. They shot fire from their hands!"
"No, no, it was not fire," Djaq said. "It is just a mixture of chemicals. When it is combined with heat it explodes and causes…"
Even in the darkness she could see their blank faces.
"Never mind," she sighed. After all, perhaps it was better these two believed black powder was some sort of magic. Her father had always said fear of the unknown was the most dangerous type of fear there was, but it certainly meant that neither one would be foolish enough to mess with it should they come across it again.
The three of them trudged through the cold and the early morning darkness, their hoods up and their heads down, the drizzle falling through forest canopy and onto their cloaks. Occasionally Allan would make a sarcastic comment about the pleasant weather, but for the most part all three of them were lost in nervous, gloomy silence. Will was leading the way, sometimes pointing out landmarks to her – a tree, a stream, a rock – all of which she carefully noted and stored away in her memory, when suddenly he stopped, causing her to bump into him.
"Shh," he warned her, glancing behind to Allan and gesturing for him to halt. The two were still, intently opening their ears to the noises of the forest. Suddenly, they heard the reason for Will's alarm: the sounds of someone – maybe several someones – heading toward them.
"Maybe it is the others," she whispered as they moved closer together.
"No," Will whispered. "We're moving southward, and I know I saw John and Much run north. They're coming at us from the wrong direction."
"Robin then…"
Will shook his head.
"If it was Robin, we wouldn't be able to hear him at all."
All three glanced uneasily at each other through the cover of darkness that the morning was swiftly stealing from them, and their hands drifted to their weapons.
"We don't know how many there are," Allan whispered. "We have to hide while we still have the chance."
"No. I want to see who they are," Will hissed back.
The two men glared at each other for a moment, a tense moment of opposition crackling between them. She froze with indecision. Should she tell them? Would they listen? She opened her mouth nervously, uncertain of what exactly she was going to say, when Will visibly backed down before Allan's blue glare.
"Fine," he muttered. "But where do we hide? There's not much overgrowth in this part of the forest."
Djaq glanced around, conscious of the heightened sound of approach, and realised that the trees were indeed sparsely populated in this part of the forest, giving way to smaller seedlings and open spaces. But Allan pointed to a large oak tree, its thick branches spreading out and upward toward the sky.
"Climb it," he ordered. "No one ever bothers to look up."
Will cast his eyes up the tree and nodded curtly.
"Quickly then. And quietly."
Ignoring the plummeting feeling in her stomach as she ran her eyes up the towering tree, she swiftly followed Allan and watched as he began to hoist himself onto the lower boughs. She was not built for tree climbing, having neither height nor upper-body strength, so it was with reluctance that she accepted Allan's proffered hand and scrambled up next to him. For the next few moments she concentrated solely on climbing her first tree without slipping, falling, or in any other way making a fool of herself, till she and Allan teetered on a high branch, his hand on her shoulder to steady her.
It was then that they realised Will was not with them. Allan cursed under his breath.
"He's gone to see who they are," he muttered angrily, close to her ear. "Should have known he'd do that."
"He probably thought he would not get a good look at them from up here…will he be alright?"
Her stomach was twisted in knots. If something happened to him…if she had just admitted what she knew…
"Yeah…yeah…he'll be alright," Allan answered, just as much to himself as to her. "He's good at sneaking around."
"Yes," she admitted. "I know."
Sure enough, it was only a few moments of uneasy waiting before the branch beneath their feet began to shudder slightly under the weight of a third person climbing toward them. Will's face suddenly emerged through the leaves, his lean body following as he hoisted himself up and perched on the branch opposite them. She could feel Allan's tense body relax next to her, and his hand suddenly slipped from her shoulder to her waist.
She opened her mouth to say something scathing, but was distracted by the troubled look Will was giving her. He had seen them. Could he have guessed? No, no, that was impossible – but of course, now he suspected something. How could he not?
Again she opened her mouth to speak, but Will shook his head firmly and pointed downwards. All three of them froze at the sound of movement below. The strangers were moving slowly and quietly through the trees, unused to the leaf-strewn terrain and so taking extra precautions as a result. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest as their conversation filtered up through the leaves, confirming her worst fears. She craned her neck, attempting to catch a glimpse of them though the leaves. He wasn't there…just his men…but where was he?
The men conferred for a few moments more, and then – to the horror of the tree-dwellers – they settled down where they were, passing around food and drink, and then unravelling their small mats upon the damp forest floor in order to pray. After a few minutes, Allan leaned down and whispered in her ear:
"How long does this go on for?"
She cast him a grim look.
"A while."
As the soft chanting continued, Djaq closed her eyes and let the familiar rhythm of the Arabic prayers wash over her. The lulling sensation passed throughout her whole body, bringing with it memories of home: the calming vastness of the desert, the shuffle of birds, the softness of her mother's fingers through her hair, her brother's voice…She should have slept when she had the chance, for now she felt her body drift beyond her control as fatigue took its toll. She had been too strung-up that was all, too painfully aware of the presence of two men she didn't feel totally comfortable with to let sleep steal away the defence of consciousness, too afraid that the combined efforts of the dark and the cold would cause her to shuffle closer to them…
But now, as the dim sun gradually lit up the forest, as voices from home trailed up to her, as Allan's arm crept around her waist, she could feel herself slipping…
She awoke with a jump, and then jumped again – this time in alarm – when she realised the precarious balancing act surrounding her. The dawn had broken whilst she slept, and Allan's arm was around her waist to prevent her from falling, while Will leaned forward to brace her shoulder with his hand, giving Allan some leverage on her dead weight. Instinctively she jerked away from the two of them, and a strange, clumsy dance played itself out as each one fought to regain their balance.
One by one they righted themselves, and – embarrassed beyond words – Djaq firmly turned her face from the two of them. Aware of how uncomfortable she was, the men cast uneasy glances at each other.
"They've gone now, anyways," Allan said. "We just thought we'd let you sleep. You haven't been out long."
She nodded silently, aware of their chivalrous gesture and hating it. They should have forced her to stay awake. She should have forced herself to stay awake. Almost three weeks amongst them and they were still according her special treatment.
The three of them began their descent, the men careful not to help or touch her in any way, and Djaq breathed a sigh on relief on reaching solid ground in one piece. But now another problem had suddenly presented itself, and she shifted uncomfortably.
"Those three men were Saracens," Will said, gazing at her intently. "Did you know them?"
Djaq forced herself to remain calm, and raised an eyebrow.
"You assume that because I am a Saracen, I must know every other Saracen that lives?"
He blinked, and then wriggled uncomfortably.
"Sorry. I just thought…"
"Well, at least you can tell us what they were saying," Allan interrupted, bouncing on the spot.
Trying futilely to hide her bodily discomfort, Djaq answered: "They are going to Nottingham to meet with their leader who went on ahead with more of his party in the carriage. The three we saw decided to travel on foot because…because they wanted to hunt in the forest."
She hadn't lied, not really. She just hadn't told the whole truth.
Will wrinkled his brow in confusion, moving from one foot to the other in an agitated manner.
"They must have been the same men from last night. Somehow their leader got past John's fallen log…got past Robin…"
To ease his mind, she spun him a white lie. "They did not mention killing anyone. I'm sure he's alright."
The three of them looked at each other, noticing clearly for the first time that each was shifting uncomfortably on the spot. In that moment they realised that they shared the same problem. Silently they turned their backs on each other and hurried off in different directions to find suitable underbrush in which to release their aching bladders.
A few minutes later they returned, looked at each other again, and suddenly all the stress and discomfort and strangeness of the past twelve hours unexpectedly purged itself in three hysterical fits of laughter, brought on by the rather literal feeling of relief. It went on for quite a while, three distinct sets of laughter echoing out amongst the trees, and as soon as they thought the outburst was coming to an end, one would catch the eye of another, and set all three of them off again. Djaq gave herself up to it, almost tearful with the release that such laughter accorded her.
Once they'd finally regained control of themselves (after several false starts, in which an odd-sounding snort from Allan or a tiny squeak from Djaq would make Will burst out laughing all over again), they forced their attention back to the task at hand.
"Look," Allan said impatiently, wiping away his grin. "We still gotta figure out what to do next. And now I'm getting hungry."
"We need to check the camp," Will insisted. "The others may be back there by now, waiting for us. And we have to pass on Djaq's information."
"There's no food there. We ate the last of the supplies last night. And by "we", I'm talking about Much."
"I suppose Locksley is close…"
"Then that's where we're going! Robin always keeps Locksley well-stocked. They're sure to spare food for some heroic outlaws."
"We're supposed to give to the poor, not beg scraps off them."
Once again, the two men were caught in a glare, but this time it was Allan who backed down.
"Alright, we'll head back to camp. But then we go to Locksley."
As Will had predicted, the camp was indeed bereft of the other outlaws, though the food supplies were not at depleted as Allan had believed. Silently the three of them devoured the remains of a loaf of bread, the men allowing her to have a few extra slices in exchange for her portion of salted pork. After a quick search to make sure there were no secret messages or instructions left behind, and a couple of nervous glances at the ominous dark-grey clouds that were forming overhead, they once more headed out into the expanse of the forest.
"Storm coming," she heard Will mutter under his breath.
He was right, and within a few hours of walking through what felt like endless trees, the clouds darkened the sky and rain began to fall in what Djaq could only describe as an onslaught. It was nothing like the first rainfall, the one that had seemed to wash away her grief and pain. This one wanted to hurt her. It beat down like a living thing, forcing the three of them to shout to be heard, obscuring their vision and drenching them within seconds. Thunder rolled overhead, frighteningly loud, and the ground beneath her swiftly became a slippery, dangerous mess of mud and leaves.
"We need cover!" Will yelled over the fury. "We can't keep going on in this!"
"Where's the nearest cave?" Allan cried back.
"Miles away!"
"No…no it ain't. I know a closer one."
Even though shouting destroyed most of the nuances of speech, Djaq imagined she could still here a trace of reluctance in his tone, but there was nothing either she or Will could do when he took the lead and steered them in a southerly direction.
After a few minutes of struggling through mud and pounding rain, her only sight the rain-splattered hood of Allan in front of her, they came to a ravine that was concealed amongst the tall trees. Dimly, she saw Allan gesture toward a small crack in the rock face, and she hurried forward, hunched over.
The mouth of the cave was low, and the interior a little cramped, but the three of them crowded in, desperate to get out of the gale. The morning had passed by swiftly as they'd been struggling through the drenched forest, and it was three tired outlaws who collapsed into the clammy warmth of the cave.
"Does Robin know about his place?" Will asked once he caught his breath.
"Not…really," Allan replied reluctantly.
"Why not?" Will demanded. "A place like this could have come in handy."
Allan searched the air for words.
"I just…I thought…look, I've been using his place for years, long before I met you lot. Is it a crime that I wanted to keep it to myself? Besides, it's not a secret anymore, is it? We're all out of the rain, aren't we?"
"This could have been a valuable hiding place," Will told him angrily. "Instead you've been keeping it a secret!"
Suddenly exhausted beyond belief, Djaq spoke up: "Oh, quiet you two!"
To her amazement, they actually complied, and she shrugged off her sopping wet coat and hunched down against the cave wall.
Quietly, the men followed her lead, and Will took up a seat near the cave entrance, looking out at the sheets of water gushing past.
"This storm may pass soon," he said. "We could still get to Locksley today."
"Good," Allan replied, one hand on his stomach. "Because I'm still hungry."
He ignored Will's glare, and shut his eyes. Djaq stifled a yawn, feeling that a nap wasn't such a bad idea. A warm cave was certainly a better place to nod off than that dratted tree, and there was enough room that she could curl up without touching anyone else. She closed her eyes, letting sleep catch up with her again.
Djaq's tearstained face looked up at her.
"It's not fair!" he whined to his sister. "Why can't I do it properly?"
Safiyah sighed and patted his shoulder. "You've only been at it for a week. You can't expect to be a master straight away."
Her brother gazed sullenly at the wooden practice sword in his hand.
They were twelve, Djaq's lessons had begun in earnest, and it was clear that they were not going well. The twins had met in their secret meeting place: the tiny courtyard wedged between the women's quarters and the garden wall. It had been designed at the last minute by the architect of the house, finding that there was a space in his plans that needed filling, and even though it provided thoroughfare between the women's rooms and the kitchens, it was seldom used in favour of the quicker passage through the house itself. And so the courtyard – the afterthought of a somewhat absent-minded designer – became the private world of the twins, who would warm their bodies on the flagstones, escape their tutors, plan the practical jokes that were systematically played on each member of the household, and discuss what the future held for them both. After today, it would have yet another purpose.
"All the other boys are better than me. I just can't do it."
Safiyah rolled her eyes. It wasn't that he wasn't good at it – it was that he didn't want to do it. Djaq was more interested in daydreaming, in mooning over different women of various ages, of practicing slight of hand and magic tricks, of making all the other children laugh. When it came to military training, Djaq's head was full of heroic charges and glorious battles, and not the hard physical work and discipline it took to reach that stage. But he had made his decision, the only one available to him, for he cringed in horror from his father's surgery, his books on human anatomy, and the sight of blood. How he could glorify one field of occupation while avoiding the other, when both relied so heavily on the same elements of violence and pain, was a paradox of her brother's mind that Safiyah had long since given up trying to understand.
"Here, let me see," she said, holding out her hand for the sword. She took the wooden hilt and grasped it in her hand, swishing it back and forth through the air.
"There…is this right?" she asked.
Her brother shook his head glumly.
"No. Your grip has to be firm, and your hand close to the hilt."
He got to his feet and adjusted her hand. "That's right. Now try to block me."
He snapped a spindly branch off a sickly-looking tree growing in the corner of the yard and swiped it in her direction. She reacted instinctively and the sword hit the stick with a satisfying thwack.
"That's right!" Djaq said, surprised. "That was good!"
"I'll try on you," she offered, and lunged in his direction. Djaq raised the stick and swatted her sword away.
"See, it's not so hard," she told him. "Sometimes it helps if you've got someone to teach. It helps you remember what you've been told."
He gave a tiny, hopeful smile.
"Maybe I could teach you."
She looked at him sceptically.
"Djaq – you can't teach a girl how to fight. I was thinking more of one of the serving boys in the house."
"No! No, it has to be you!" he cried, suddenly frantic. "Please, Saffy! It has to be you!"
She groaned internally. She didn't want to learn sword-fighting, not even for his sake. Her parents kept her busy enough, what with her father's book studies and her mother's tutoring in the feminine arts. She got precious little time to escape to the peace of Bassam's house, away from the constant bustle and noise of her own household. Besides, she was a peaceful person at heart. She didn't want to learn how to kill people – she was too much in awe of her father's ability to put them together again.
But Djaq was so upset about this – more upset than she'd ever seen him. Under his large brown eyes, she felt herself weakening.
"All right," she sighed. "But not for long."
"Oh no," he assured her. "Just for a week or so."
Naturally, the lessons went on for years, and the clearest memory she had of her brother was the first time she'd bested him, sending his practice sword spinning across the courtyard. He'd looked at her with despair in his eyes and said: "You should have been the boy Safiyah."
He began whimpering and shuffling before her…but no, he hadn't done that…he'd simply trudged back into the house. So why was her vision filling with the sight of her brother gasping and whimpering before her, as though he was dying a soft and quiet death? Something was pulling her away from him, a noise that was drawing her up toward consciousness. She opened her eyes and glanced around – Will was still crouched at the mouth of the cave, looking out at the rain. Next to her was Allan, fast asleep, and apparently having a nightmare. She looked down at him in alarm: his skin was pale, his face creased, and he was muttering something under his breath. She couldn't believe the level of his distress: his forehead beaded with sweat, his body occasionally twitching. She looked up at Will again.
He was looking at her uncomfortably.
"It happens now and then. We can all hear him."
So this was why he chose to sleep apart from the group, she realised. For a few moments she looked at him, wondering if she should wake him up or simply let the dream run its course. Will didn't seemed inclined to do anything, his gaze having turned once again to the rain, and just as she was about to lay a tentative hand on his shoulder, Allan suddenly gave a sigh and settled into silence.
She gave a small sigh of relief and glanced up at Will again.
"How often does that happen?" she asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. Perhaps thinking that she could provide him with a prognosis, Will considered the question carefully.
"Maybe once a week. Sometimes more."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"What do you think he dreams about?"
Will shrugged.
"Don't know. He's never loud enough to really hear what he's saying. Maybe his family. He never talks about them."
She looked down at the sleeping man and then up at Will again.
"What about your family? Where are they?"
He gazed at her intently for a moment, and then took a slight breath.
"My father and brother are in Scarborough. My mother's dead."
Without thinking, as the subject of death had never been made her uncomfortable, she asked: "How did she die?"
"From hunger. She died to feed my brother and me. We didn't realise she was…"
He drifted off into silence, his eyes moving from her face to the wall of the cave.
"My mother is dead too."
His eyes darted back to her, and she could see him struggling with the question in his mind. She answered it for him:
"My home was destroyed by crusaders. Only I…and one other…managed to escape. She helped us. But she couldn't get out herself."
His expression was unreadable, and in the absence of anything else worth looking at, they gazed at each other in silence. No more details arose as to the nature of their mothers' deaths, but for now, the basics were enough; the shared knowledge that both were sitting there looking at each other because two mothers had died for the sake of their children.
Their reverie was broken by Allan waking up with a jump and a groan.
"Urrghh. What time is it?"
"Past noon," Will told him.
Outside, the storm had ended, though the sky still looked murky and grey. Allan crawled over to the entrance and peered out.
"Stopped raining," he told them unnecessarily. "I hear Locksley calling!"
This time Will gave him a small smile.
"All right then," he sighed. "Let's go."
It was a strange moment when Djaq looked down on the village of Locksley, knowing it to be Robin's home. Despite his lofty speeches on England and King Richard, it was this small community that he really fought for, a smaller version of his entire world, his reason and his reward. It was a lovely place, even in the grim weather, and she hoped one day she would be able to visit it under better circumstances.
The three of them, their hoods drawn over their heads, crept quietly through the houses, their eyes alert for any members of the garrison that often patrolled the village. Yet today, they seemed to be in luck, for there were no sign of any soldiers; the cold weather providing simple incentive for them to seek shelter.
Will lead the way, stopping only briefly to point out a modest dwelling and tell Djaq: "That was my house," before tapping on a small door on the side of an even smaller cottage. A few moments passed, there was the sound of movement within, and a young woman with large eyes looked out, her face instantly relaxing when she saw Will.
"Will!" she whispered. "Everything alright?"
"Alright," he answered. "Can we come in?"
The woman glanced past him and saw Allan and Djaq's shrouded figures, and obligingly stepped back to allow them entrance. They filed passed into the small room, Djaq glanced around curiously. It was the first English home she'd ever been in, and having giving the matter absolutely no thought, she had no idea what to expect. The roof was thatched, and there were various herbs and flowers hanging down in bunches from the rafters. A fire crackled in a small stone fireplace, and the floor under her feet was a blend of packed earth and layers of straw. There was a small table, several stools, a cupboard leaning against the wall, and a half-open doorway leading to another room. It didn't smell particularly nice, though Djaq supposed that might be because of the rain.
Lost in her observations, she was only dimly aware of Allan talking:
"We were waylaid by at least twelve guards out in the forest and had to fight our way out. We've been running all night, through all that rain. And you're not going to believe this, but I swear it's true – there were men who could shoot fire from their hands."
The three of them grouped around the small table, and the woman bustled about, fetching wooden cups and a pitcher of water. Allan sat up a little straighter, no doubt hoping that food would follow, and Will - sensing that he was about to voice his request - gave him a warning nudge. Seated between Allan and Will, Djaq hesitantly raised her hands to her hood and pulled it down to properly expose her face. Surely she would be safe enough here.
The woman turned around, and gave a slight start on seeing Djaq properly for the first time, her surprise quickly transforming into a quizzical expression. On either side of her, the men shifted.
"It's alright Kate," Will said. "She-"
In the same moment the word left his mouth, he realized his mistake, and at once began to cough viciously.
"He's with us," Allan said over the noise. "Meet Hood's new physician. Djaq."
Kate blinked, and composed herself, apparently oblivious to Will's slip of the tongue.
"No, I…I don't mean to be rude," she said. "I was just surprised…did you come with the others?"
Djaq's heart began to thump.
"Others?" she asked.
"The other Saracens. They were here late this morning."
She was acutely aware of Will and Allan exchanging glances, and her hands clenched.
"Did they hurt anyone?" Will asked.
"Oh no," Kate said, her eyes wide. "They came into the village with supplies - plenty of food for each household. They just wanted some help. That's why I thought you were with them." She gave Djaq a nod.
"Food?" Allan asked.
Kate smiled. "I'll get some – it's just out in the storehouse."
"Wait," Will called as she headed for the door. "What did they want help with?"
Kate turned at the door.
"They're looking for a woman. A Saracen woman."
It had started raining again, and the woman darted out quickly in order to reach the storehouse before it got any worse. Inside the cottage, there was silence. Djaq looked down at the table top, instinctively hunching her shoulders and wishing she'd never taken off her hood.
Allan cleared his throat.
"A Saracen woman," he said. "That wouldn't be you, now, would it?"