Hello, and welcome to Chapter Ten! Here we find the trio making their plans to get themselves into the castle, Djaq being somewhat devious, and the reader discovering that the boys aren't quite as naive as Djaq thinks. (Yes, I've cheated a bit in taking the POV away from Djaq in order to get Allan and Will's opinions of her, but I think it's worth it for a Allan/Will heart-to-heart).

I have shamelessly stolen an idea from "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" - if you've seen that movie you'll probably see what it is...if you haven't, then you're not missing an awful lot (except Alan Rickman having the time of his life) and you can be none-the-wiser as to what it is I've nicked. Bwhahaha!

Chapter 10: Knighton Hall

As she reached the forest's edge she spotted Allan and Will, moving restlessly on the verge of the trees, seemingly poised between running back to Locksley and staying where they were. Will was visibly relieved to see her return, and Allan's stormy expression reminded her suddenly of her father's face the time she'd run into the road as a little girl and nearly been run over by a passing cart. She held up her vial as way of explanation, feeling a little guilty at the exasperated look that passed between the two men.

"Sorry," she muttered, slipping the precious bottle of acid back into her pocket.

"Alright, alright," Allan said. "But you still haven't told us what's going on."

"I need to go to Nottingham and speak with Khalid. I will go by myself if I have to," she declared, knowing full well that she didn't stand a chance of achieving such a thing without them.

Once again a look passed between Will and Allan, but to her frustration she could not interpret this one. Anxiously she waited, her eyes flitting between he two of them, and finally, the barely perceptible drop of Will's shoulders told her that at least one of them had relented.

"We'll have to find Marian," Will told them. "She has access to the castle and may know what room this man is lodging in."

Djaq nodded eagerly as Allan lifted his eyes to the heavens.

"So – Knighton Hall then," he sighed. "This is going to be a long day."

Once again Will took the lead, trudging through the puddles and mud with Allan and Djaq carefully following in his footprints so to avoid the worst of the muck underfoot.

Behind her relatively peaceful demeanour, Djaq's mind was spinning, fastening onto one potential plan before discarding it as impractical and moving quickly to another. She had never been much good at thinking on her feet, preferring to take her time, gather the necessary information and act rationally and accordingly. But time wasn't on her side, intentions of the involved parties weren't entirely clear, and she was still floundering in unfamiliar waters, with opposing waves of past and present threatening to submerge her. She was desperate to gain control of the situation and in turn, some semblance of power over her future. But she'd never really owned such a thing as either Safiyah or Djaq, having been caught up in the chains of family and duty before the all-too-literal chains of slavery that had followed. She had compensated by maintaining strict discipline over that which she could control…but now that once-immutable faith in her innermost self was coming undone. She once again found herself powerless against the tides of fate that were lapping at her heels, and entirely at the mercy (not that they knew it) of two men who may or may not be trustworthy.

She cast a sidelong glance at the man next to her, the man who was almost certainly sulking at the prospect of endangering himself for purposes she refused to explain, and then ahead to the cloak-shrouded youth, whose own emotions were buried so far deep under a stoic expression that she still couldn't fathom what went on in his head. She bit her lip in frustration. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed both of them if she was to accomplish this – they had the knowledge, the resources and the skills essential to carry her through Nottingham Castle to the room where Khalid and her final decision was waiting for her. For better or worse, she was stuck with them, and there seemed little point in continuing her plan of avoidance and aloofness. She'd just have to start communicating with them: tricking, cajoling, ordering – even pleading if worst came to worst. Whatever it took to do what had to be done…even if it meant calling on some of her mother's gifts. Thinking of her appearance, she wryly admitted to herself that such charms would not have much potency in her present state, but any man was susceptible to flattering words if one could tell them what they most wanted to hear.

Will was a few paces ahead, carefully picking out his path through the trees, and she glanced over at Allan again. In the time she'd known him, she was finally beginning to get the measure of him. There was a desire to be liked and respected by the people in his life, and a wanting for something more that he couldn't sate or even fully understand – he could only feel its presence, and it made him restless. Djaq could relate. According to her analysis, what he wanted – in the short term anyway – was some fuel for his ego. Her mother's lessons filtered through her mind (the ones that Fatima had always called "charming" men, but which Safiyah had secretly considered "trickery") and a few steps later, she had a shaky plan to ensure his enthusiasm for her little mission.

"Thank you for helping me," she said quietly, pouring gratitude into her voice. "I get the feeling that you're good at sneaking in and out of places undetected."

Allan visibly straightened.

"Well…let's just say that the gang found it difficult to get in and out of the castle before I came along. You know, one of the first times I saw Much he was half-way up a ladder that didn't reach the top of the castle walls."

She allowed herself a smile at that mental image, and continued, her voice low.

"Yes…I get the impression that Will might not be skilled at deception. He seems very young. But I bet you already have a plan for how to breach the castle walls."

The blue eyes of the man walking next to her were positively gleaming by now, and he flashed her a proud grin. As she'd suspected, he was proud of his ability to lie, cheat and steal, considering them valuable assests that he never seemed to get much credit for.

"Got some ideas. I'll get you inside, no worries. And yeah…Will is a bit too innocent for his own good. Which is odd considering all the time he spends with me. He's all "the poor needs this" and "the poor deserves that"… that boy would give up his last meal to a hungry puppy."

His voice was affectionate, but there was something else in his tone of voice, hidden under the joviality. Was it…resentment? Wistfulness? Self-defensiveness? She couldn't tell…and was it just her, or had there been the slightest emphasis on the word boy?

Inside she was cringing, feeling cruel and manipulative, not to mention incredulous at how impossibly easy it was to bend this man to her will. But it was all necessary if she was going to get what she wanted, she told herself. She'd make it up to them somehow once all this was over. And it wasn't doing any real harm. She sighed, and silently told herself to shut up.

Knighton Hall was a pretty place, even in the miserable weather, and Djaq admired the neat gardens and the well-kept building as Will carefully aimed and then threw pebbles at the window of what what she assumed was Marian's bedchamber.

On their arrival, Allan had accosted a group of female servants heading to the village to check if the Lady of the House was at home, whilst Will and Djaq hung back just out of earshot and tried to look inconspicuous. As they waited, she tentatively turned to Will, and posed to him the same sentiment she'd passed earlier to Allan, curious to see how the reaction would differ.

"Thank you for helping me," she said, letting her eyes widen innocently, calling upon her mother's advice almost subconsciously. "I know it's a lot to ask…and there's nothing in it for you."

Will answered whilst keeping his eyes on the group of women, currently giggling at something Allan had just said to them.

"It's alright. I like…helping people."

She shuffled a tiny bit closer.

"It's just…you seem very honourable. And Allan – he's very friendly…but I'm not sure he's entirely trustworthy."

"He'll help," Will admitted after a heavy pause.

"I'm grateful to both of you," her words inviting him to say more.

There was another silence, and then Will spoke again, blurting out his words as though he'd been holding them in for days:

"Just be careful around him. He tries to be good, I'm sure he does – but he just gets carried away sometimes. He was on his own for a long time, and he's still getting used to being part of a team. So just…be careful."

She was surprised at the intensity of his pleading, and nodded speechlessly. He nodded in return, and then turned back to the sight of Allan approaching them, swaggering a little, as the women carried on their way again. Something had instantly become clear to her.

Like many best friends, there was a rivalry that existed between Allan and Will, buried so far deep that they probably weren't even aware that it was there, a subtle ebb and flow of opinions and decisions and one-up-man-ship. It derived from the fact both were vaguely intimidated by the other, unknowingly participating in a competition to prove themselves to the world, and a recognition that each held traits that the other desperately wanted. A similar dynamic had existed between herself and her twin, and she suddenly shrunk into her cloak. The words she had spoken had been chosen to ensure their cooperation in getting her into Nottingham Castle – now she realised they might be having an entirely different effect.

Allan had returned to inform them that the Lady Marian was indeed at home, though resting (as was her habit on a Saturday afternoon).

"What took you so long?" Will grumbled, the sound of women's laughter fading as the group disappeared down the path. "It was a simple enough question."

Allan grinned.

"I thought I'd pump them for a little information on the whereabouts of the sheriff's mysterious houseguest. Some of them have family members working in the castle, and kitchen girls usually know more than high-court ladies when it comes to the ins and outs of a place like that."

"And did they? Know anything?" Will pressed.

"No."

Will had rolled his eyes and pushed impatiently past Allan to the back of the house, poking about on the ground for pebbles. Now Djaq stood in the drizzle, listening to the soft tap-tap of the tiny stones upon wooden shutters.

It was only a few moments before the window opened and a radiant face looked out – a radiance that quickly faded to disappointment when Marian realised that it was not the dashing and heroic figure of a hooded crusader, but three bedraggled and slightly sheepish looking outlaws.

She gestured with one white arm to the small barn around the side of the house, and moments later Allan, Djaq and Will were letting down their hoods and shaking the damp off their cloaks. Marian entered a few minutes later, looking around them as though they might have Robin hidden away behind them somewhere. Djaq watched her, being closer to her now than she had been the last time in Nottingham. She was not a good judge of beauty, (especially in this country) but she supposed that Marian was indeed beautiful, what with her graceful posture and those strange blue eyes that seemed to be so prevalent amongst the English. But her hair – surely her dark brown hair wasn't meant to be that short. Not as short as hers of course, but certainly shorter than the other women she'd seen, most of whom wore their hair in long braids trailing down their backs.

"Where's Robin?" she asked briskly.

"Actually, we're here alone," Will said. "We need some information."

She glanced at them each of them curiously, her eyes finally settling on Djaq.

"I don't believe we've been introduced."

Will gestured Djaq forward, and the two women solemnly shook hands as Will introduced her as Djaq, a refugee that Robin had saved from hard labour in the mines and was now living among the outlaws as their physician.

"Well, that's certainly handy," Marian commented, as Djaq silently pondered the fact that Will had left her gender unmentioned. It couldn't be that he didn't trust Marian…perhaps he just liked the idea of keeping it a secret for now. "What is it you all need?"

"We were hoping you knew where to find…um…"

"His name is Khalid," Djaq took over. "He is the Saracen staying in Nottingham Castle."

"He'll be lodged in the guest quarters. I've seen him at court rubbing shoulders with the sheriff, though I have not yet spoken with him. He seems most distinguished…despite his unfortunate associations."

"The sheriff got his tribute then," Allan commented.

She nodded. "And he's still crowing about the generosity of the East. He's offered Lord Khalid the use of all his guards in the search for this woman he's looking for."

She cast another glance at Djaq, a slightly suspicious one this time, and Djaq swiftly diverted her attention with another question.

"Which part of the castle are the guest quarters?"

"The east wing, aptly enough. On the third floor. I can draw you a map if you like – wait here."

Marian left the barn to gather some parchment, and the outlaws gathered together.

"Why didn't you tell her Djaq here is the woman they're all searching for?" Allan asked.

"Not my secret to tell," Will replied, glancing shyly at Djaq.

"Perhaps it's best if we keep it to ourselves for now," she said, and changed the subject. "Even if we know where Khalid is, we still need to find a way to get to him. Surely the guest quarters will be more heavily guarded."

"Not to mention the fact that everyone will be out looking for a Saracen woman," Allan added. "And that disguise may not be enough to stop certain people from taking a closer look at you."

She unconsciously pulled her waistcoat closer around her chest, thinking of the guard that had caught her unawares in Locksley. It was unlikely that he would share the information with his peers, given the advantage that his knowledge would have in catching her, but surely he would know the chance of running into her again were slim. But in that case he might choose to bribe her fellow Saracens with the news that she was dressed as a boy. No, her short hair and bulky clothes wouldn't be good enough if she was going to roam about the busy streets of Nottingham in which every pair of eyes would be alert to Saracens of any shape or form. She would need something else…

At that moment Marian reappeared, blowing the ink dry on a parchment that had scrawled upon it a rough map of the east wing interior, with a small X placed over a room that Marian explained was the largest guest room, and therefore the most likely one for Khalid to be housed in.

She passed over the parchment, and then once more gazed speculatively at the outlaws.

"Is Robin going with you?" she asked.

"Nah, this is a little something we three are takin' care of," Allan said.

"So…where is Robin?" she asked, and then sighed impatiently as Allan simply shrugged.

"We're not entirely sure," Will told her. "We all got separated yesterday night."

Her eyes flashed. "Then I suppose he's out doing something idiotic by himself."

Knowing this was probably true, Will and Allan smiled uneasily, leaving Marian to tap her foot in irritation. Djaq watched her demeanour uneasily. Marian was supposed to be in love with Robin. So where were the dewy eyes and stupid smile that marked all those who wandered about in such a state?

"You must excuse me now," Marian said. "My father and I are participating in the Feast of St Radegund tomorrow and I must prepare. Guy is accompanying us to the church."

There was no doubt in Djaq's mind that Marian had dropped Guy's name in the hopes that they would pass it on to Robin, and that both men were entirely oblivious to this fact. She scolded herself – she had better things to worry about than the strange mating habits of others – and instead watched as Allan shuddered:

"Lepers," he muttered darkly, and Marian raised an eyebrow at him.

"Unfortunates," she corrected him, and with a last nod at the three of them, left.

"Lepers?" Djaq asked, wondering how on earth they had suddenly entered the conversation.

"It's the Feast of St Radegund," Will explained. "Lepers are allowed into Nottingham to get a blessing in the church."

"Lepers…" Allan repeated, almost to himself, causing Will and Djaq to glance up at him questioningly. He looked back at Djaq with the beginnings of a wicked grin pulling at the sides of his mouth. "I got an idea."

"See, it's perfect," he said, pulling a dirty white garment out of a lumpy sack. Djaq recognised it as the disguise he'd worn at the mines the day they'd met and began to have an inkling of what he had in mind.

The three of them were back at Allan's cave, and he'd hefted a sack out of the darkness of the cave's interior to explain his idea for sneaking Djaq into the castle undetected. "You wear this, and we wrap up your hands and head. Everyone will think you're a leper come for blessings! No one will even want to come near you, let alone think you're a Saracen. Plus, the town will be full of 'em – no one will notice one more."

"What about us?" Will asked, and Allan dug deeper into the sack, a variety of other odds and ends falling to the floor, including a several hats, an eye-patch and something that looked suspiciously like a lady's handkerchief. Finally he pulled out the murky-brown robes of a friar and shook them triumphantly at Will.

The look that passed between Will and Djaq conveyed that neither of them particularly wanted to know how or why Allan had a friar's robe stashed away at the back of a cave, but she had to admit it was a good idea. She took the ragged white robe from Allan and held it against her body – it was far too big of course, but that hardly mattered when she would be playing the part of a leper.

"We'll escort you to the church and no one will raise an eyebrow – then it's just a simple matter of slippin' out the backdoor and making our way to the castle."

"We'll haul ourselves up the rubbish chute entrance," Will said. "Then follow Marian's map to the room she marked for us."

And then I'll end this, Djaq added silently, and clenched the white fabric with her fingers.

Fatima's wailing filled the entire household, and Safiyah could not escape the terrible keening no matter where she went. Even the twins' courtyard was no refuge, not just because the sounds of a heartbroken mother drifted down from the open windows of the women's quarters, but because it was no longer the twins' courtyard. There were no twins anymore…just Safiyah. The place was just the same: the flagstones, the spindly trees, the stucco walls, but it hurt to look at them because Djaq would never again be among them. He would never do anything again, and Safiyah would never ever again hear his laughter or feel his affectionate nudges or see his flashing eyes that matched her own in their shape and size so perfectly.

And so she walked listlessly about the house, her mother's grief rising and falling in volume depending on how close she wandered to her room, the sound soaking into every corner and invading every crevice of the house. Safiyah added her own mental rhythm to the ceaseless wailing, for with every step she took, a single word pounded in her mind: dead, dead, dead, dead… it was never-ending. A small part of her mind – the part that somehow managed to retain coherent thoughts – wondered if she would be trapped inside this restless dirge forevermore. Finally, the world itself answered her question, and the night stole away her mother's voice as she succumbed to exhaustion.

But Djaq's face was dancing before Safiyah's eyes as she walked ceaselessly throughout the halls and courtyards in a pointless attempt to out-walk the memories. If she just kept moving, surely the image of her brother's face would leave her soon. But it didn't, and the events of the last time she'd seen him kept replaying in her head.

He had snuck into her room and shaken her gently awake, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

"Saffy! Saffy!" he had whispered, and she sat up grumpily.

"What now?" she muttered, imagining that some pigeon had just returned to him with a message from his beloved.

"I came to say goodbye."

"Hhhmmm?"

"I'm leaving. I'm joining the army – I'm going to fight the Englishmen and rid this country of them once and for all!"

She was instantly wide awake.

"Djaq, are you crazy!" she hissed softly. "You're not old enough! Father won't allow it!"

"Father isn't going to find out. You're not going to tell him."

As she kicked at her blankets and tried to get out of bed to do precisely what he'd told her not to, he swiftly leaned over and pinned her wrists down on the bed with his hands. His force surprised her, and she stopped struggling.

"Safiyah," he said, in a tone so serious she barely recognised it. "I have to do this."

"But why?"

"All my life…I've never really done anything. And I never wanted to either – I was happy just playing tricks and making people laugh. But…I can't be that way forever. I just…I want to be more like you. And if you were a boy, you'd be fighting in this war too, you know you would. And you'd probably win single-handedly."

He flashed her a sad smile.

"This is something I can do for the family…and the country…and Allah."

"And for you," she said. For a moment he looked stricken, and shook his head frantically.

"No…no…it's nothing to do with me!"

But under the steady gaze of his sister, he faulted and slumped his shoulders in defeat.

"Maybe it is. I'm just sick of being treated like a layabout. Everyone thinks I'm useless. I want to be respected. I want people to think I'm a good man."

She was unsure of what to say. Seconds ago she had been ready to awaken the household, to fight him – physically if need be – into staying, but now looking into his sad eyes, she knew she couldn't deny him this pathetic, hopelessly misguided request. Chances were the army officials would take one look at him and send him back anyway.

"If you're going to tell father, at least give me a head start," he said sullenly.

"I'm not going to tell father. It's your choice Djaq."

He glanced back at her, his face brightening once more.

"Don't worry about me Saffy," he said. "I'll be fine. And when I come back, I'll have fame and fortune and a wife waiting for me!"

He moved forward and kissed her forehead, then stole silently out of the room once more, glancing back to give her one last excited grin. And he was gone.

She sat there, wide-awake for the rest of the night and the early hours of the morning, feeling stunned. It was surely just another of Djaq's ridiculous schemes. They'd probably find him sleeping in the garden the next morning, having changed his mind halfway to the front door. He couldn't really be gone.

But the memory of his eyes glinted in her mind, as did the echo of his last words. She'd forgotten to tell him that such things wouldn't make him a good man, and as she finally settled down uneasily into her blankets, she felt as though their goodbye had been hopelessly inadequate and incomplete.

And now she wandered the house aimlessly, knowing there was nothing she could do to bring him back. It was too late to rush out to the battlefield and cut down any one who threatened him. It was too late to tell her father about Djaq's midnight escape. It was too late to convince him that he was needed at home despite his insistence that his abilities were unwanted and disregarded. She had failed.

She awoke to the sound of soft whimpering beside her, and for a dizzying moment she thought she was back home, curled up near her mother as she sobbed softly into her pillow. But no, this wasn't Fatima, but Allan, and once again he was caught in a nightmare, twitching and muttering in his sleep, a sheen of sweat across his face. She rose up onto her elbows, and looked at his sleeping visage closely. Surely she should wake him – surely it would be kinder to break whatever nightmare held him captive in his own mind. And yet, she dreaded the reaction that would follow should he awaken and find her mothering him.

But she could not just do nothing.

Tentatively she raised one hand and then lowered it softly on his collarbone, just above his heart, adding pressure ever so slightly so that his dreaming-self would feel its weight. Quietly she began to hum Fatima's lullaby, the lilting passage feeling odd and out of place in this chilly English cave. But she continued, watching his face intently, and to her relief, he eventually began to quieten under her palm. Finally he gave a small sigh and settled into a deeper sleep – one that was seemingly devoid of any night-horrors.

She settled back down into her own blankets, but just before closing her eyes, she risked a glance at Will, still on watch at the cave entrance. His face was turned toward her, having watched the exchange silently, and on meeting her eyes, he turned back to the view of the forest.

Several hours later, Will prodded Allan awake with his foot, informing him it was his turn at watch. And yet when a bleary Allan hoisted himself up and shuffled over to the entrance of the cave, Will made no move to fall asleep. Instead he gazed so pointedly at the Saracen sleeping on the stony ground, that Allan could not help but guess his thoughts, and opened the conversation that his young friend was trying to start.

"She's something, eh?"

Will's eyes flicked in his direction.

"I heard her talking to you. She said I was very young."

"Well, you are, ain't you?"

Seeing something rather like hopelessness in Will's eyes, Allan gave a small sigh.

"I wouldn't take it personally mate. She was just sweet-talkin' me to make sure I get her into that castle. I suspect she said something similar to you."

A wispy smile flitted across Will's face.

"She said she couldn't trust you."

Allan stifled a laugh. "Well, there you go. At least she's honest when she's lying."

Will snorted. "More than we can say for you."

Their eyes drifted back over to the woman, who was frowning slightly in her sleep.

"She looks smaller when she's asleep," Will said.

"Less scary."

"Scary?"

"You know what I mean," Allan seemed a little flustered. "She's pretty…forceful."

Another pause, and then Will spoke again:

"She's afraid."

Allan nodded thoughtfully.

"Mmm. Of this man, d'you think?"

"Lots of things. Who do you think he is?"

Allan shrugged. "A family member – an uncle maybe. Didn't she say her parents were dead? Or maybe – hey, maybe she's a princess or something. That's why the reward is so large, and this lot chasing her are like her…guards or summat."

"A princess?" Will asked sceptically.

"Or a noblewoman, I dunno. She sure as hell ain't a peasant."

"Maybe…well…do you think he could be her husband?" The reluctance with which he asked the question belied the fact wasn't sure he wanted an answer.

"No."

"No? What makes you so certain?"

"Pretty useless husband if he lets his wife get taken into slavery like that."

"Maybe she was kidnapped or something. He's going to a lot of trouble to get her back."

"She doesn't seem to want to go back…I'd say she wants to stay right here. Otherwise, why not just give herself up?"

"But why ask us to help her get to him?"

A pause.

"Look, I think we're jumpin' to a lot of conclusions here. Besides, she hasn't got a wedding ring on."

"Maybe Saracens don't have wedding rings."

They were quiet for a few moments, frustrated at their own ignorance.

"How old do you think she is?" Will asked.

"Older than you, younger than me. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"What do you think she looks like…as a girl?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

"I…she…I don't know. She has a nice face."

"Well yeah, but what about the rest of her? I'd like to see her without that waistcoat."

"Shut up, Allan."

Will put a sudden end to the conversation, clambering down from his rocky seat and into Allan's discarded blankets, allowing himself one last look at the mystery sleeping beside him before closing his eyes.

Wow, that was quite a whopper of a chapter - I honestly don't mean them to get this long!

Hopefully Djaq doesn't come across as too manipulative in this chapter, and I was hesitant at having her use "feminine wiles" to get Allan and Will to do her bidding, but keep in mind that she's in a pretty desperate state of mind at the moment (the reasons for which will hopefully become clear once we reach Khalid's room). Plus, I tried to compensate by having the boys fully aware that she's flattering them into getting what she wants - Allan especially knows when he's being played - and the idea that they're not quite as dense as Djaq thinks they are (I love Djaq to bits, but she is a bit of an intellectual snob!) Plus, she won't be using them again in the near future - she doesn't like doing it, and she'll learn her lesson by the end of this fic.

Just for the record, the "Feast of St Radegund" is completely invented by me, although Radegund is a real saint with an association with lepers.

Next chapter: the trio put their plan into action, and we find out what happened the night Safiyah's parents died (I'm afraid it's almost time to start "breaking the cutie", as Television Tropes would say).