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All mistakes are my own.

Chapter Five: A Wrong Turn

The great halls of Nottingham Castle rang with laughter, spirited talk and lively music as the procession took way, and aromatic sensual of food and drink beckoning to the large crowd. It was as almost as it was before King Richard had left for the Holy Lands, back when Sir Edward was the Sheriff, and times were merry. Though this is what it seemed to portray, Will knew that the merriment was forced, and the many of the Nobles here were anxious to leave as soon as they could.

They were not the enemy, he knew, but they may as well be. They supported the Sheriff and his sinister scheme out of fear, turning a blind eye to those who truly needed help, and refused to acknowledge that a problem was brewing in the populace of England. Yet Will knew that without them, there would be no hope for the people of England. For it was they who the outlaws robbed to feed and supply the poor, to keep them safe from the castle's dungeons, and strong for their families. So much pain, so much suffering, but Will knew they couldn't give up hope. Somehow everything would see its way through in the end.

With Djaq by his side, they passed through the castle without hesitation, that alone being a foreign feeling. Normally they were slinking in the shadows, or scaling the walls, sheltered in hiding. They were still hiding, true, out in the open, disguised as nobles instead of outlaws. It still made him anxious. Subconsciously Will tucked his free hand into the vest he wore, fingering the head of the axe that sat against his skin snugly. It was powerful knowledge, to know he was armed even though giving the appearance he was not. It gave him the confidence he needed to strut in without hesitation, even though that part in itself was forced.

Torches lined the walls, burning brightly, lighting the normally dim interior and casting an entirely new feeling about the room. It was a grand scheme, he had to admit, on the Sheriff's part. Truly he would be impressed if he had never walked the halls before. The deception was amazing, a ploy well thought out by the man.

The touch on his shoulder drew his attention away, and he smiled as Djaq led him further into the crowd. The dress she wore moved about her flawlessly, embracing her skin, the stitching holding tight in just the right places. She wore a matching wrap in her hair, one that helped hide her boyish cut, drawing the lurking eye to gentle face instead.

She was beautiful, he had to admit. Maybe too beautiful, but then he always felt that way about her. Her arm wrapped about his, her small delicate, yet strong fingers gently gripping his forearm. Cautiously Will placed his own hand over hers, smiling to himself when she did not object. Growing up there were no girls that he particularly fancied, and was content to living a quiet life alone in the freedom of Locksley village. But that was before the Sheriff came to power, and before he had met Djaq.

The more time he spent out in the woods, the more he longed for a life of his own, the more he longed…longed to be with her. It was a childish feeling, he knew, but it was one he couldn't stop from creeping up on him in the midst of the nights. If only there was peace again in the Holy Lands, and King Richard would return. Then he would build a homestead, somewhere near Locksley he supposed…and then he would ask her…

Not to marry, no, because he knew she would never accept. She came from a different world, and believed in a different heaven. How could he compensate, give her what he could never promise? No, marriage was too foreign for the both of them, and most likely she would laugh if he tried. But he would ask her to stay. The truth was that he did fancy her, perhaps too much now, and he couldn't imagine a life apart from her. Too many nights they had shared over the campfire, too many missions had they barely come out alive. Too many times had they saved one another, risked their lives for one another…it could not be all forgotten in the end, could it?

They had drawn into the shadows now, Will snapping from his momentary dream, glancing around him. It felt safer here, but that was merely from habit, so he knew the reasoning they had come here now could not be a good one.

"What is it?"

Djaq still had him by the arm, her eyes narrowing as they gazed across the room. "Robin will not find the chest. It is here."

"Where?" Will asked quickly, following her gaze. Robin had been counting of the chest to be beneath the castle, within the store rooms. They all had, it was part of the plan. Plans changed of course, but the Robin had always been with them to formulate a new one. Now the man was not here…

"We need to get back to Allan and John," he told her suddenly, the eerie feeling washing over him.

She knew it as well, already pulling away from him, her warmth leaving his side. But they did not get far. Will pulled her back into the shadows as the Sheriff came near, not having to say a word for her to still her tongue.

The man walked, nearly skipping as he made his way through the crowd, holding his hands up to quiet the musicians. There was an unmistakable glee on his face, one that was sickening as well. Will moved another step into the shadows, Djaq following as the man began to speak. More than anything now Will wished for his cloak, wanting to conceal his face with a hood, or even a simple hat. They were too close to slip by unnoticed, and the Sheriff would surely notice them if they tried.

"My friends! Lords…and Ladies," Vaysey laughed softly, "Welcome! Welcome, to my, humble abode…really now."

"Where is Gisborne?" Djaq whispered in his ear. "I see the guards, we might get by them, but I don't see Gisborne."

Will glanced about the hall, peering over the heads of the Lords and Ladies who stood in the center of the room. Usually the man wasn't too far behind the Sheriff, but in this case Djaq was right. He was nowhere to be seen. That could only mean bad news for them.

Will's attention was drawn back to the front as the Sheriff began speaking once again.

"The War in Holy Land continues, our 'beloved' King Richard is leading the way to victory. But if we are to have this victory," Vaysey held up a finger, "We need to support our fearless leader in every way we can. We need to be devoted, faithful…loyal."

Will shook his head, scoffing quietly. "What does the Sheriff know of loyalty?"

Djaq hushed him quietly, her free hand pressing against his chest.

"But there are some, who don understand what those words mean," the man continued, earning an incredulous laugh from Will. Once again Djaq was quick to silence him, this time giving him a sharp glare. Though Will disagreed, he also knew that drawing unwanted attention to themselves was not going to help. Carefully he surveyed the crowds around them, trying to locate John and Allan. They were outside…not inside, and that would only hinder them.

"Robin Hood…does not, understand how authority works. He does not understand loyalty, or devotion. War does that to a man you know…" Vaysey grinned, pointing to his head. "Muddle thoughts…yes…"

He shook his head. "No, you don't know," he laughed quietly, addressing the audience as he raised his hands. "He has come here tonight, to try and steal your generous donations. We cannot help our King with such petty criminals about. Your hard work…going into the hands of outlaws. It is maddening!"

"That is why, we have taken extra precautions tonight, you see. Your generous donations are right here," Vaysey walked over to the chest, pushing off the lid. Hastily he reached inside, pulling out several of the coins, letting them fall back in with noisy clinks. "Here in front of your very eyes. Hood will not be able to steal it when so many are watching. No…you hear that Hood!"

In the silence the man's voice shot through the empty air, reverberating off of the walls. No one would dare breathe while he spoke it seemed, and Will closed his eyes as he held his own breath. Robin and Much would be entering the Castle from behind by now, and more in likely headed straight for a trap.

"Enjoy yourselves, now, wont you?" The Sheriff clapped his hands, the music starting as though it never had stopped. For a moment it was still, but soon the dancing began once more, the hall filling with muddled voices as the chest was surrounded by guards.

"This was a bad idea," Will whispered quietly, "we need to get out of here, and find Robin."

Getting in was never a problem. It was getting out that was troublesome. The number of guards there was dramatically lower than what they had expected. Between the pair, they were able to dispatch of them easily. Robin first checked the opening, before climbing through, helping Much up as well. It was easy enough, the evening events providing more than enough distraction to allow them to slip through unnoticed.

Still Robin kept to the shadows, he and his companion switching on and off between the walls, the corners, and any other form of shelter they could find. This was the reason why Robin preferred to travel with Much than any of the others. The man was war trained, quite similar to himself. He knew how to move, and for the most part, could do so on his own. Still, the quiet reminder would be needed from time to time, but Robin trusted the man to be able to read him better than any of the other members of his group.

Coming against a wall he forced himself to still, nodding to the other man as the hallway drew unwanted guests. Holding his breath Robin watched them walk by, waiting until they had disappeared from view before he took the lead once more. He could not afford to wait; the chilling memories of what happened before still clung heavily in his mind, and Robin had been working to chase them away. The slightest misstep could result in deadly error, and he had neither the time nor the patience for such a mishap.

Alone once again they moved down the hall, Robin keeping close to the walls, peering about the corner before actually turning it. Quickly he motioned to Much, stepping out in into the empty corridor. "By now the Sheriff would have the donations collected, and stored. Now it is time to play our part."

"Are you sure it was safe to send them in like that?" Much asked him, keeping watch as Robin worked to get the door open.

"They can handle themselves," Robin nodded, "Allan and John are there as well."

"Still don't like it."

"Well, you don't have to," Robin reminded the other man. He concentrated his last effort on successfully picking the lock, holding up the small pick triumphantly. "Thank you Will."

"Let's thank him later," Much hurried him, pushing the door open.

Robin gripped his sword, pulling it free as a routine precaution, urging his companion inside, following shortly after. The familiar musty odor greeted them, the darkness being chased away by the torch Much held up. Robin followed warily, sword ready, his eyes glancing about the room. Dust lined the floor in a thick layer, stirred into the air by their movement. Above them, thick cobwebs, suffocating from grime, hung loosely, as though threatening to fall at a moments notice. Slowly Robin shook his head.

"This isn't right," he whispered quietly.

"Where's the money?"

"It's not here," Robin answered, bringing his sword up. The uneasy feeling he had before was only getting worse as he edged back towards the door. "This room hasn't been used in ages, they didn't come here."

"But why? They always used this…I mean…why lock an empty room?"

Robin let out a long sigh, shaking his head. An answer he didn't have…it didn't make sense…not unless…

He could literally feel his heart fall into his stomach, his entire demeanor changing as he tensed up. "Out."

"What?"

"Out, now!" Robin ordered, no longer worried about who might hear him. He moved for the door, pushing Much ahead of him. They were mere moments away when the door slammed shut, Robin throwing his weight against it even as he heard the lock slide into place.

There was a string of vile curses that left his lips, fueling his own fear as he brought his sword against heavy wood. It would do no good he knew; even with Will's axe, the instrument designed to split through wood had no use here.

"A trap?" Much questioned, "but how?"

"They knew we were coming," Robin yelled, turning back towards the man. "We've been tricked."

Much was shaking his head, denying what he already knew to be true. "The others…what about the others?"

"I'm sure the Sheriff will find them soon, if he hasn't already," Robin let out a sigh, sliding down to the floor against the wall. "We shouldn't have come."

"But the money," Much argued with him, "You said it would be here."

"It's not," Robin answered crossly, watching him.

There was realization in his eyes now, and slowly the man nodded, accepting his fate for what it was. Robin pressed his head into his hands, cursing himself quietly. He was a fool…he knew the risks, that the odds were not in his favor, and still he insisted. Now he would not only pay with his own life, but his friend as well. And the others, if they did not make it to safety.

Death, of course, would be a blessing. Once already he had been to the other side, and knew that there were worse things than death. That the promise of endless torture, of pain inflicted to not only yourself, but to the ones you so deeply cared about that you could not stand to see them hurt. Such as Marian…

He hated himself for letting her go. But it was the only way, he knew. She could begin a new life, living in safety with her father. The temptation to leave with her had been overwhelming at that time. Part of him no longer cared for England, or for the poor. He would be content as long as he had her.

But his men…he could not abandon them so easily. Nor Much, who was more to him than just a comrade. A life long partner, and solid friend, someone he both loved and hated with each passing moment. Much had filled a great deal after the passing of his parents, and truth be told the man was more like a brother than a friend, having shared some of the best joys, and most painful sorrows.

"Forgive me, my friend," he told the man quietly, earning a confounded look from his partner. Robin laughed despite the situation, sharing in his friend's confusion. Of course there was no way for Much to follow his thoughts when he did not speak them.

"We are…going to die, aren't we?"

"That is the general idea."

Much was shaking his head. "You're supposed to say that you have a plan."

"Alright," Robin shrugged, "I have a plan."

"No you don't!" Much cried. "Don't say that!"

"What? That's what you told me to say."

"I didn't mean for you to lie," the man shook his head. "Come on, you have to think of something."

"Much, the door is solid wood; even with an axe it would take ages to cut through it. The lock is on the outside, and we can't reach it. We have nothing in here to help us. What do you suggest?"

"A different room," he answered quickly, bringing a smile to Robin's lips.

"Well, we can't help that, now can we?"

Much nodded, "The others, they will realize something is wrong, and come and find us. I say we wait, right here."

Robin watched him concernedly, raising an eyebrow. "Good idea Much. We will just stay right here. In this locked room."

"You're not coming up with anything better!"

"Patience," Robin told him, silencing him. "Gisborne and the Sheriff will have to come for us eventually. When they do, we will be ready."

Much nodded, sitting down opposite of him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Right…what do we do until then?"

"Wait."

"Yeah," Much nodded again, sighing heavily. "I could have figured that out on my own."

Robin shook his head, smiling sadly. Charging the pair with an unknown number of guards was suicidal at best. Yet it was a more promising fate than what he had been offered before.

"What if they don't come for us?" Much asked quietly. "What if they leave us locked up in here forever?"

"Then we die," Robin suggested mildly.

"No water," Much shrugged, "No fresh air, no food…" he moaned quietly. "No food…we're going to starve."

"We are not going to starve."

"No more pig…or beef…no more cheese…"

"Much!" Robin hushed him again.

"Easy for you to say," he cried, "you're not the one who's going to starve."

Robin let out a sigh, bumping his head against the wall. Sometimes reason was not the man's best friend. But Much had brought up a valid point. Their only chance remained in storming the guards when the door opened. But the door did not have to open; and the reality of a slow death such as the one they were now facing, was more than alarming.

TBC