Thanks to Kegel for the beta, and thanks to all who reviewed! Onto the next part :)

Chapter Thirteen: A Question of Trust

He had been watching them, waiting, and praying. His eyes never left the village, his mind drifting here and there as they waited. Morning stretched into noon, noon into afternoon, and the people below went on about their lives, unaware of what was transpiring in the woods behind them. Robin let out a sigh, shifting on the ground, willing himself to stay patient. Gisborne would return…he had to.

"I still don't understand," Much voiced, watching him. "I can't believe you told him our plans. When did we start helping Gisborne and the Sheriff?"

"We are helping ourselves, my friend," Robin corrected him, moving his bow in front of him. Carefully he leaned back against the tree behind him. "We want for Gisborne to think we will go after the silver, it is all part of the plan."

"I thought we were going after the silver."

"We are," Robin nodded, smiling at him, seeing his confusion. He let out a breath, shaking his head as he tried to find a way to explain.

"Gisborne knows the silver is safer in Locksley, he will not move it. But he knows he cannot just leave it for us to try and gather. He will try and fool us."

"When he's distracted," Djaq spoke quietly, drawing both of their attention. "That is when we will go."

Robin nodded, smiling at her. "Gisborne will need as many guards with him as possible, whatever they plan to do, he has to make it seem real. The silver will be left unguarded."

"Well," Much turned to him, frowning skeptically. "Here's your chance to prove yourself. Gisborne's coming now."

Robin turned his gaze back to the village, watching as Gisborne rode up with several men. The man himself was in the lead, his stance rigid and erratic as he dismounted, trudging into the house in a hurried motion. Robin held his breath, moving to his feet as he took a few steps closer, crouching near a tree.

"How many did you count?"

"Dozen," Much answered him, his voice low in comparison. "Plus the four that have returned. It's not going to work."

"It will," Robin returned, his eyes trained on the house below. It had to…

They waited, their breaths filling the air as more time passed. The guards stood about idly, the peasants casting one or two worried and curious glances towards the silent commotion, but continued to go about their way. Robin bit his bottom lip, drawing in another breath, holding it, listening to his heart hammer inside his chest. His eyes flicked from the door to the fence where more guards stood, and then back to the cart near the side of the house. The same cart he had left there the night before.

That had been risky, but Robin had taken the time to hide it well, brambles and branches covering it, to ensure its stay there through the night. If Gisborne had found it, surely the man would have questioned it, but distracted by the events of earlier, the man had more than enough to occupy his small mind.

"He's not coming out," Much chided him.

"He will."

Robin was starting to lose his patience. He had been so certain that this would work. Had felt it with his heart and mind. He knew Gisborne well enough, knew that man would take a chance in catching him again…but the man knew him, too. That was the worst of it. For every move that Robin could guess he would make, Gisborne could guess his own. Perhaps that was what happened here, and perhaps Robin had now ruined the chance to garner the money.

But even as the thoughts crossed his mind they were banished as Gisborne reemerged, pausing to wait out in the open. Robin moved even closer, as much as he dared, urging the man on with silent encouragement. He smiled, watching as they went.

"Well, there goes our chance of getting anything," Much commented dismally, crouching near him.

Robin grinned at him, his gaze flicking between the man and the village. "Let's move, I fear we won't have much time."

"We are going to attack all of them?" Much wondered, jutting a thumb towards the chests that were being carried through the village.

"That is not the silver," Robin laughed, grabbing the pile of bags from the forest floor.

"How do you know?"

"Because, I know," he responded without looking back. They had only one shot at this, and he wasn't going to spend his time arguing. He swung the bags over his shoulder, running swiftly yet silently, letting his feet fall over the ground with gentle yet determined motions, distributing his weight evenly.

He slowed as he approached, weaving in and out of the last line of trees, pausing as he watched the procession continue. Much and Djaq slowed to a stop as well, watching from over his shoulder. Robin waited only a moment longer, turning to the two of them.

"Quick, silent, and effective. There will be at least half a dozen guards left still in the house, and we need to silence them as quickly as possible."

He knew this was going to be the hardest part. They could not afford a breach in their security, could not afford to battle against even greater odds. They needed all the time they could get, and then even more. Robin waited till the others nodded, then led the way, sword drawn and ready as they wrapped around the back of the house.

Two guards; but both were taken down before they even registered what was happening. That left at least four…possibly more, depending on how accurate their count had been to start out with. The door swung open easily; his servants used this door often, and rarely was it ever blocked.

Here he came to a pause, waiting till Much and Djaq moved the unconscious forms to the shelter of the woods. If they were to wake, or someone was to find them, the assumption would be that they had been off on a break when something had gone wrong. It was a notion Robin wanted to keep in order to help secure their plan. Hurriedly he waved as the pair returned, waiting till his other two comrades moved through the door, taking up the tail of the group.

Another pair of guards…Robin barely caught glimpses of them as Djaq took one out from behind, Much sidestepping another before delivering his own blow. Robin jumped easily over their fallen forms, taking the lead again into the main room. It was empty, of both guards and money, the trio coming to a halt, their eyes casting about their surroundings.

"I told you nothing was here," Much hissed at him, but Robin only met his remark with a grin for he knew what his former manservant did not.

Robin motioned for Djaq to guard the door, seeing the pair of Gisborne's men standing just outside. They had not yet seen the intruders, and he desperately wanted to keep it that way. Robin had expected Gisborne to use the chests; after all the trio had seen them come in earlier, they would be fooled by none the less. That was why it had taken them so long to carry the chests out. Because they had been emptied.

Robin waved Much over, handing him his supplies as he dropped to his knees, pulling out his dagger and forcing it in between the floorboards. Carefully he worked it between the cracks, tilting the knife so that one end of the board slid free. He was quick in grabbing it, pulling it out from the rest of the flooring.

"You knew this was here? A secret compartment?" Much asked incredulously, watching him. "All this time? And you never told me?"

"That's the point of it being secret," Robin answered him, reaching in to pull out one of the bags of silver. "Thornton was the only other one who knew aside from my parents. Surely Gisborne forced him to tell. Bag."

He held out his open hand, as Much worked one of the bags free. Robin was quick in transferring the silver, refilling the previous bags with a mixture of rocks, dirt, and other debris that could be found, tying it off in the same fashion Gisborne had. Dropping it back down, he slid the board back into place, forcing it back down before moving to the next hold. There were five in all, and Robin was certain that the man had utilized them all.

Slowly but surely he worked from one hold to the next, moving quickly, but taking as much time as he dared to make the transition complete. He wanted as much time between their departure, and Gisborne's discovery of the theft as possible. As he worked, he handed the bags to Much, having the man move them outside, hiding them in the brush. They would have to load the cart, borrow a horse, and flee to the refuge of the woods in a matter of moments.

"He's returning," Djaq called quickly, keeping her voice down. Robin let out a groan, glancing up at her, then back down to his task at hand. The blade of the dagger was back in the floor, slowly raising one of the boards, but it was stuck.

"Robin…" she warned.

"Almost there," he breathed, pushing on the handle roughly. They were so close…

"Master," Much came up near him, gripping him by his shoulder. "Leave it, we got the rest."

"I have it," Robin shook him off, prying the board up quickly. "Go, go load the cart, I'll be behind you."

His hands shot into the darkness, gripping the velvet bag tightly, pulling it free from its hiding place. Much and Djaq still had not moved, and he turned to them, even as he dumped the last of the silver into the bag. "Go!"

Much nodded, a cross of exasperation and worry on his face. Robin knew the man did not like leaving him behind, but if they were to get out of here, they had to hurry, and now. Hastily Robin filled the bag, hastily retying it even as he dropped it back down. Hands gripped the loose board, sliding it back into place as Gisborne's voice reached his ears. The man was nearly here, and things would turn ugly very soon if he wasn't careful.

With a last forceful shove, the board slid back into place, as though it had never been touched and Robin grasped the handle of his dagger, moving to his feet quickly. He slipped through the open archway, disappearing around the corner as the door opened. He moved slowly now, keeping quiet as he headed for the back entrance. Lush, cool air greeted him, and Robin wasted no moment to savor it as he moved outside.

Much was loading the last of the bags, Djaq trying to calm a nerved horse at the same time. Robin dropped the last bag he was carrying on the cart, moving around Much quickly as he reached up to the frightened creature, helping Djaq in her futile attempt. With his help she was able to bind the rest of the straps about the alarmed animal, Robin mounting barebacked, urging the mare onwards, circling around to face the forest.

The house behind them was silent, and Robin kept the pace slow, whispering quiet words to keep the nervous horse at bay as Djaq and Much climbed the cart, keeping low as the trees began to surround them. So far, so good, but Robin would only be thankful when they were safely in the woods.

The first problem had been the issue of actually transporting the silver. Will had countered that with the simple answer of retrieving the cart they had used earlier. Allan had taken the task upon himself to fetch another horse, gloating about his intellect and quick hands as he came back riding in. They had ridden in as normal peasants, shrouded in cloaks as the sun began to set over Locksley.

The back of the cart had been filled with bundles of hay, borrowed from another village. Borrowed because Allan proclaimed they had stolen it, whereas Will had the notion to return it once this mission was over. The fact it had been taken without the farmer's knowledge or approval was only a minor detail.

Taking care not to be seen Will had led them in through the back of the village, halting the horse near the fence line of his old house. It too was now empty, and he looked upon it dispiritedly, memories of his father and brother fleeting through his mind. He missed them, and the brief thoughts of what they were doing now entered his mind. But he was quick in banishing them, scolding himself. They had things to do, he had to remain focused.

They took shelter near his house. Will had half the mind to go inside, but he knew they would be seen then. The house had been quiet for so long that any activity inside would alert Gisborne, and draw unwanted attention. And so they waited, the sun disappearing behind the trees, and the warm light of the day melting into darkness. That was what they needed; Will was counting on the cover of night to aid them.

Even still he held off, ignoring Allan's quirky questions, and heavy impatient sighs. It wasn't until the village was completely silent that Will felt comfortable in moving out. He drove the cart slowly, squinting through the darkness to see. Though light would have given them great aid, Will had refused to bring any. This alone was still tricky, as in the back of his mind he was certain that Gisborne would still be watching. The less attention drawn, the better their chances.

John took the lead as they reached the old mill, prying the boards loose with apparent ease. His sheer strength alone had proved useful in many situations, and now Will was silently grateful the man had come along. One by one the planks were pulled free, falling into a pile at the side of house. Slowly Will eased the animal to a halt, sliding off the cart as John kicked the door open.

He was in first, followed by Allan as Will paused, glancing over his shoulder to assure himself that no one had heard. Then he stepped inside; the heavy odor of dust and mold greeted him, causing him to wrinkle his nose in distaste. Ahead of him he heard Allan sigh.

"Nothing's here."

"Try upstairs," Will answered, pushing past him. "They wouldn't leave them right next to the door."

It made sense in his mind; more sense than trying to haul two heavy chests up a flight of stairs. At least he hoped so. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he reached the top, moving to the side as Allan and John pressed by. The pale light of the moon shone through the slits in the window, heavy boards having been nailed across them as well.

Furniture still remained in here, broken and forgotten, the tapestries that hung over the window coated in a heavy layer of dust. Cautiously Will reached out, running a finger along it, nearly choking as an entire cloud billowed from the small movement. The floor underneath his feet creaked with every step, and Will shuddered slightly. This building was a death trap. The sooner they got out of here, the better.

Ahead he could hear Allan's gleeful laugh, watching as the man dropped to his knees in front of one of the chests. "We did it!"

"Quiet," Will hissed, moving through the doorframe into the new room. They still had to get the chest out, and then come back in for the second one. He huffed impatiently as Allan threw the lid open, reaching inside to grasp the treasures. "We don't have time for this!"

"Not being funny, but this isn't silver," Allan responded, hardly listening to him. His hands brought out a rock, and then another one.

Will stared at him, as though he had been the one to cause the misfortune, but inside his mind was racing, trying to piece together what had just happened. It didn't make any sense, why go through all this trouble…unless…

Will jumped, along with the others, as the door below slammed closed, the vibration echoing throughout the house. Quickly Will moved to the window, his gaze falling upon the ring of guards that encircled the house, the light from their torches casting away the darkness. Gisborne's voice echoed through the air, demanding their surrender.

"A trap," John huffed angrily.

"I knew we shouldn't have done this," Allan replied bitterly, moving to the window to glance outside as well.

"It was your idea!" Will hissed, reminding him. "I hadn't wanted to do this in the first place, but you said we could handle it!"

"Since when did you start listening to me?"

Will shook his head, disbelief coursing through him. He had no response for that, nothing to argue with, but thankfully he didn't need any, John breaking through to the both of them.

"What do we do?"

"Always check your surroundings, not only for your own sake, but for the safety of the men you are leading. Every decision you make affects them, never forget that."

But he had…the one thing Robin had told him, the one thing he knew he should have done. Will closed his eyes, thinking for a moment. Every window was boarded up, and by the time John pried any of them free they would more in likely be shot. From what he saw, every guard was equipped with a bow, arrows fitted and drawn tight, ready to fire should an escape attempt to be made.

"Will?"

He met Allan's gaze with a frown, shaking his head sadly. He had no ideas, his mind searching through his memories quickly and haphazardly. This was what Robin was good at, these were the times that Robin would be able to come up with his greatest of plans. Will could think, too…but not as quickly, not as efficiently.

For a moment he considered bargaining himself, but the thought died shortly after. He was no Robin Hood, his head was not as desirable as the troublesome outlaw, and Gisborne would not be willing to let two outlaws go when he already had all three of them.

That left only one option; they would have to charge, would have to fight, and pray that somehow…somehow they made it out alright.

The Sheriff's plan had been meticulous yet simple. If Robin knew the silver was at Locksley then he had seen the chests come in. The wooden boxes were finely decorated, and no look-a-likes would pass the test to fool the man. Yet there was no way in seeing inside the box, and so it would be the box that the man would so foolishly follow. Gisborne had been skeptical; something in the back of his mind screamed it wasn't right, but he wouldn't openly argue with the Sheriff, not after all that had happened.

So he had returned to Locksley, following the man's orders. He had taken the time, outside of the guard's view, to pack the silver in bags, and hide them in the flooring. The chests were then filled with rocks, and closed before he summoned his guards. It had to be that way; his men had to assume that the silver was actually inside. With the weight, they most likely believed it as well.

Gisborne had waited outside while the chests were loaded in the house. He hated places that were old, unkempt, and ready to fall apart. There was no way he was going to risk his neck in there. They had taken their sweet time, his patience growing thin as the last of the boards were secured once more.

Trap set, he had returned to his house, watching and waiting, his guards on constant patrol. He had returned to find several of his guards missing, the result causing the man to scowl. Half his guards were worthless, and seemed to only cause more problems. Why was it that they were always wandering off? He would have to think of it later, he knew, his concentration focused instead on the mill. It seemed like forever, but finally patience paid off as he could finally see movement in the back of the village.

Gisborne had seen them wander through the darkness, move to the house. That was when he first signaled his men. He wanted to give them enough time to get inside, but he knew if he wasn't quick enough, Robin and his men would slip out and escape, once again. Hood would not escape…not again. Gisborne was tired of playing these silly games; he would win once and for all.

And now the arrogance was rightly seen, the spiteful grin on his face as he slammed the door shut, ordering his men to fire at will should any of the outlaws be seen. Smugly he called out for their surrender, knowing already that it would not come. Yet that was fine by him; Gisborne did not wish to take them back to Nottingham, did not wish to wait for a hanging. That only gave them more time to escape; he wanted it to end, here and now.

Hastily he grabbed the torch from the nearest guard, ordering the man to use the dry hay to stuff into the cracks and crevices of the old wood, smiling as the man did so. The house would burn easily enough, but the dried grass would serve as a wonderful accelerant, speeding up the process entirely.

The flame danced at the end of the torch, licking the darkness in a carefree manner. So small, yet so deadly…Gisborne smiled to himself, turning to glance at the man next to him, the guard watching the entire event unfold with mild apprehension.

He could remember the Sheriff's words from earlier, remember the Sheriff wanting him to rid of the loose ends. There would be no hard feelings if he was to kill the man, Collin, as he had been little use, but he rather disliked the thought of bloodshed, most certainly at his own hands. At the thought his smile widened, the prospect seeming all to clear now.

Without a word he passed the torch to the guard, Collin taking it without hesitation, not even meeting his gaze. "Torch it."

That got his attention; the youth turning to him suddenly. "Sir?"

"Burn it down," Gisborne repeated, anger rising in his voice. It was amazing how often he had to repeat himself. His guards were useless nitwits.

"I do not deal in murder."

"But you do follow orders," Gisborne reminded him. This was a test, plain and simple, one last chance for the man to redeem himself, to prove his loyalty and show who he stood with.

"Burn it, or lose your life."

TBC