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Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
The Long Road Home by Ecri
Part 7: Truth and Lies
John and the men he'd taken with him into Sherwood Forest had returned to Marian's home with better news that Azeem had imagined.
After much discussion and debate, they all agreed to salvage what was still useful and to find a new site for their settlement. None of them were willing to resettle closer to Nottingham or to return to the village they'd abandoned for the welcoming anonymity of Sherwood Forest until they learned how things would go with whoever took the Sheriff's place. With no formal pardons, they were outlaws and would remain so until either the new, as yet unnamed sheriff, pardoned them or until King Richard returned and could be persuaded to set things right. For now, the power struggle among the local and not so local lords with whom the Sheriff had dealt was keeping anyone from wondering what had happened to Robin and his men.
They would use this time to their advantage. Azeem was pleased that they had all agreed not to set up their robbery schemes unless the Sheriff's replacement was as bad or worse than he was. If they could live freely and support themselves without resorting to antagonizing the new man in charge, they would.
Azeem had found himself becoming the man they turned to when cuts, scrapes and more serious accidents happened. Since he'd helped Fanny deliver her baby and had cared for Will's more prolonged recovery, he had been readily accepted even by those, such as the Friar, who had been reluctant to see him as civilized.
He laughed at the absurdity of it. His own people were guilty of such thinking as well, so he knew it was human nature and not unique to the English. Courage in the face of adversity was not unique to his own people, either. The Christian had said that the Crusades had taught him that no one fights harder than the man who fights to protect his home, and these English had fought and lost twice over, once when they abandoned their village to seek the shelter of Sherwood's trees and now after Celts had burned those trees. Now, they were faced with rebuilding their homes yet again.
Rebuilding the community was no easy task. They tried to make things safer, but fire was still a concern. When you lived amongst trees, a conflagration was perhaps the scariest thing to contemplate. Azeem was no exception. The sight of those blazing arrows aimed at the trees that day had chilled his heart like the damnable English weather had not.
His own country was much different. Apart from being warmer, and Azeem missed the warmth of his own country's sun more than he could have imagined, there were so many differences. He tried not to dwell on them as he knew it would be a long time before he saw the land of his birth again.
True, he had fulfilled his vow. He had known when he'd killed the Sheriff's witch that this was the person Allah had sent him to protect the Christian from. The witch had possessed an evil about her, a vibrating, pulsing malevolence that was surely demonic in nature. He had met evil men, evil women in his life, and none had seemed remotely like this foul creature.
Even with that success, having saved the Christian from that demon, he could see there was much more to be accomplished. The Christian and his brother were making progress, but he could see more hurt in their eyes than either seemed willing—or likely, knowing what he did of their characters—to reconcile. The Christian carried guilt with him as though it were attached to his arms, and the Young Christian—Azeem shook his head—he had grown up unwilling to trust or to believe in anyone let alone in himself. Allah had created these men with the capacity for infinite love and they could not see it. Guilt, doubt, distrust, they would never see what joys Allah would provide for them if they did not release these burdens. Azeem meant to help them while they were still capable of recognizing that they were indeed family.
He kept a close eye on the boy's healing wounds, and, truth be told, he was pleased with his progress. The Christian had become overprotective again, but that was understandable. In time, he would learn to let go.
This fine morning was a case in point. The Christian had finally accepted that his brother was well enough to assist in the rebuilding of their homes. Though he'd permitted his brother to help, he hovered nearby, and each time Will Scarlett took a break or seemed to struggle with anything Robin Hood stood nearby offering assistance. Azeem didn't know how the younger man had managed to contain his infamous anger in the face of it, but by the time the boy was preparing to scream, Robin must have seen the exasperation on his brother's face. He begged pardon, to everyone's astonishment, and made himself scarce so that he would not irritate the young man again.
The rebuilding was going much better than they'd imagined, and little improvements had already been adopted. Storage areas for food and supplies were common now, but each home now reflected a bit of its inhabitant's character. He himself had a fine home set with a platform facing east so that he would always be able to heed the rules Allah had set for him and his people.
Azeem was brought out of his admiration for the new homes when he saw Fanny Little carrying some firewood. He moved to her side to relieve her of the burden. "I would be happy to help," he told her as he did.
She laughed. "I'm used to it, but I won't turn you down!" She looked up at him. "I've been meaning to ask you…is there some way we can thank you? You've done so much for all of us, and we just take you for granted." As they reached her home, she rubbed at her belly. "If you hadn't helped me, I wouldn't be here now, nor would my son."
Azeem put down the wood and placed his hand on hers. "I am an instrument of Allah's will. It was he who saved your baby. It is all part of his plan."
"Well, all right, but can't it be part of his plan for me to be grateful to you? You could come to eat share my family's evening meal." There was a hint of fear, and Azeem could see she was concerned about upsetting him by discussing his beliefs.
He nodded. "I had not considered it, but, if that is what you feel, than certainly Allah is trying to teach me something."
"What would that be?"
"To reply to your gratitude. You are welcome, Lady, and I am pleased to be of service to you and yours." He laughed and accepted her invitation to dine with her and her family that evening.
It was late when the dinner at the Little's was finished. Azeem had rarely enjoyed a meal more, though it was the friendly conversation more than the strange English cuisine that appealed to him. As he strolled through the quiet camp towards his own home, he saw movement by the center campfire. The plan to maintain lookouts through the night had seemed to demand a fire be kept burning through the night for warmth and for light.
Azeem was surprised to find the Scarlett sitting silently at the fireside.
"Are you well, Young Christian?" Azeem asked.
Will nodded. "Fine, thanks."
Azeem could tell from the tone that something troubled the young man, so he sat. He talked about the dinner he'd just enjoyed, shared a few stories John Little had told him, and, when Will did no more than smile, he finally spoke.
"You say you are well, but you do not seem so. If it is not your wounds that trouble you, tell me what does. If you cannot tell me, tell your brother."
Will shook his head. "I'm fine."
"So you say," Azeem replied. He stared at the younger man until the silence told him Azeem was not going to go, and then he tossed a stick into the flame and watched it burn. Something Azeem had never seen him do. Usually the young man did not stare at flame or even casually glance in the direction of fire. He did not know why, nor did he pry.
In time, the boy spoke.
"You came through a war, Azeem. Were you ever…afraid."
"Many times."
"Have you ever been afraid of something you probably shouldn't be?"
"I have found that each man's fears are his own. I may fear things that you find commonplace and easy to handle, while your fears may seem as foreign to me as your strange tongue and the foods you eat." He leaned in closer to the boy. "What troubles you my friend?"
Will looked down at the ground between his feet. He was silent so long, Azeem was not sure he would answer. When he did, he spoke so softly that Azeem almost did not hear him.
"Robin. I'm afraid of Robin."
Azeem was startled and could not hide it. "He is your brother. There is nothing to fear. He would not hurt you."
Will shook his head. "That's not it. Not exactly, anyway. I mean, he wouldn't hurt me physically." The boy rubbed at his hand and Azeem saw the scarred mark where Robin's arrow had once protruded. "Not anymore," he amended. Azeem shook his head. The Christian was stubborn and temperamental, and the whim of a moment could well have cost him dearly. "But…Azeem…" Will Scarlett sighed and the weight of it echoed the heavy thoughts he shared. "I'm so tired." He choked back a sob, and tried to hide his own surprise at the depths of his fatigue. "I think that's why I hated him so much. At the river, when he fell in and John demanded taxes of him…when he told us his name, I hated him so much." The word, when he said it was infused with hatred. It dripped from each syllable.
Azeem had never heard it said so vehemently, and he was taken aback that the hatred had run so deep.
"But I was suddenly so tired. I've been on my own a long time. I was ten when my mum died."
Azeem had not known how young the boy had been when left alone in the world. It had to have been hard. He'd known boys in his homeland in similar circumstances and they were hard and uncaring. They did not have the compassion or the thirst for justice Will Scarlett had.
Will continued. "I had tried to find my…our…father when I was a child. When that didn't work, I'd tried to avoid Robin…and suddenly there he was invading my home and standing there…two servants, fine weapons…a medallion that looked like it was worth more money than I've ever seen in my life…" He shook his head unable to continue the litany that he must have gone over a thousand times in his head.
"He came to my home. He met the people I'd known most of my life, and suddenly I was the one no one trusted." He sighed. "I suppose that's my own fault, but ever since then, I kept expecting him to send me away. So the other day, when he said…" his voice faltered, but itt was then that Azeem understood.
He had found the brothers speaking to each other last a few days ago. He'd stayed far enough away not to hear the conversation believing they needed privacy to begin to forge their relationship. He had seen the exchange begin with Robin saying something mildly, tentatively, and then Will had exploded up from his seat by the fire and thrown some insults. Robin had risen and walked dejectedly away, but Azeem had seen the sudden look of fear on Will's face.
"When he walked away from the fire…" Azeem prompted.
Will's head hung down, but Azeem could see that he was struggling against his own demons to be able to speak at all.
"I have not been on certain ground where he is concerned. I have not been on certain ground with anyone since I met him." Will's head snapped up and his eyes, filled with equal parts anger and fear stunned the Moor. "I thought Robin was asking me to leave. He says he wasn't…that I misunderstood. What if I've chased him away? What if he wants nothing to do with me now that I've misunderstood again…I want to tell him that I'm sorry. It's not him. It's me. I don't…" He shook his head searching for the words that would explain. "I don't…" He ran trembling hands through his hair desperate to find words that would not come. "I can't…I'm so sorry…"
Will stood and Azeem knew he was about to run. It's what he did. It was how he'd survived and how he'd gotten through years living first on his own and then with the other thieves in the heart of Sherwood Forest.
He took one or two steps, but Azeem's hand on his arm stopped him. He tried to shrug it off, but the Moor's grip was too strong.
"You must speak to him, Young Christian. Make him see that this is hard for you. Believe it or not, it is hard for him as well."
"How can he forgive me?" Will demanded.
"Forgive you for what?" Azeem asked.
"For always assuming the worst of him."
Azeem shrugged. "You have had good reason. The Christian understands that." He put a hand around the boy's shoulders. "You should go to him. He cannot understand you if you do not explain yourself."
Will nodded. "You're a good friend, Azeem. I don't know what Robin did to deserve you, but I'm sure I don't deserve you."
"Allah knows a man's worth better than the man himself. He has sent me to you both for a reason, and I do not argue Allah's plans." He smiled and pointed Will in the direction of his brother's home. "Go now," he advised.
Will nodded and headed off in that direction, calling softly to Robin as he entered. Azeem heard him say they had to talk and he smiled. Allah be praised, he thought.
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
Lady Marian stared out of her window hoping that Robin would get her message. She didn't really know how she was going to tell him what she had to tell him, but she knew that she would have to insist he be reasonable. She had noticed how quickly he jumped to conclusions since his return from abroad, and she wanted him to be open minded.
She stopped her thoughts as she saw his horse approaching. She rushed out of her rooms, through the corridors, and down the stairs to the courtyard. She wanted to be sure he heard this from her.
"Robin!" She greeted him and took the arm he offered her as they walked back inside. She didn't encourage any small talk until they were safely behind the closed doors of her brother's study.
"Robin, thank you for coming."
Robin frowned. "That's a bit formal. Has something happened? Have you heard from King Richard?"
She shook her head, impatient with his questions. "No, nothing to do with that. Robin, I've had a visitor. It was a night or two ago. He came looking for someone…he…" she faltered, still unsure how best to tell him.
"Marian, what is it? Why do you hesitate?"
"I know you, Robin, and I know how you will react. I see only two ways you could react, and neither of them is good." Marian turned away and sat on a high backed, uncomfortable looking chair beside her brother's desk.
"It can't be that bad."
She turned to face him. "The man who came was looking for one of your men. He had a wanted poster…a copy of the one listing some of the men known to be your associates. He claimed to be a long lost relative…"
Robin smiled. "Then this is good news! A missing relative! Who was it?"
"Robin, he said he was certain his son was working with you."
"Who is it? Bull? John?"
Marian shook her head. "Will."
Robin laughed. "No…" he stopped. The smile fell from his face when he saw that she was serious. "So what you're saying is that Will has lied to me?" He shook his head. "No, that's not possible."
Marian could see uncertainty in his eyes for a moment, but when the moment was gone, his eyes were hard, cold, and unreadable.
"No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying that a man has come forward who claims to be Will's father. He could be the one lying."
"To what purpose? He cannot be after Will's money, for he has nothing."
"Yes, but he could think to get something from you." Marian suggested.
"What could he possibly want from an outlaw?" He shook his head. "The man is mistaken or else he has some nefarious reason for what he's saying. I don't want Will to hear of this. He's having a hard enough time adjusting."
She stepped closer to him. She knew what Will meant to him. He had latched onto the idea of having a brother a bit quickly, a bit ferociously, and more than a bit obsessively. He had seemed to want nothing more than to get to know Will Scarlett, and had done a lot to help the younger man heal from his wounds…both the physical ones recently sustained and the emotional ones from a lifetime on the edge. It would take a long time, she knew, for Will to trust Robin completely, but she could see that they had both taken the first tentative steps toward that end. She was glad that Robin disregarded the claim. If Robin began now to distrust Will, she wasn't certain how Will would handle that sort of a setback in their relationship. He was tough in many ways, but oddly enough, he was also incredibly fragile.
An idea came to her, but she wasn't sure if it were something they should try or if she should be ashamed of herself for coming up with it. "Perhaps the only way is to speak to the man yourself…you are an excellent judge of character…and then to allow him to meet Will. If we watch Will for some reaction, we are sure to learn if he knows the man. Will is not exactly good at hiding his reactions."
Robin smiled. "No, that's true enough. Will Scarlett is an open book where his emotional state is concerned even when he won't discuss it."
Marian nodded trying to get past the foreboding that had suddenly sprung up deep inside her. She hoped she had not given Robin bad advice.
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
It was an easy enough arrangement to make. Robin would meet this man at Marian's home and have him explain himself. He'd told Will only when he was about to leave. Their trust was tentative enough that if Will suspected Robin was keeping something from him, it might be difficult to rectify. Predictably, the news had kindled Will's rage to astonishing proportions.
In the end, Robin had agreed to allow Will to be present when the man arrived. He'd be in the next room with Azeem. The Moor was the only one Robin thought Will might listen to if his anger were sufficiently stoked.
Now that the man had arrived, Robin found he was as impatient as Will Scarlett to prove the man a liar and get back to Sherwood.
He waited in the dining hall while Marian went to greet the man and lead him inside. Will and Azeem were secreted behind a door used by servants in better days as a shortcut to the kitchens—useful when a large party was enjoying Marian's father's hospitality. Robin knew Will was beside himself. It had taken all of Robin's powers of persuasion to explain that he did not believe the stranger's claim, but wanted only to discover the man's purpose. Will had been certain that everything was about to crash down around his ears, and after his brother's tentative confession a few nights ago that he was afraid that Robin would one day tire of him, or send him away, or decide that he had been lying all along, Robin had been hard pressed to convince his brother otherwise.
Just as Marian returned to the room with the man in tow, Robin could hear Azeem whispering in an attempt to calm Will down. He coughed loudly both to cover the noise and to alert Azeem and Will to the man's arrival.
The man seemed unsure of himself. He wore ill-fitting clothes with the well-worn appearance that any peasant's garb might have, but there was something odd about them, as though the man wasn't sure of himself in them. His eyes darted quickly around the room and came to rest on Robin. He smiled tentatively.
Stepping towards the man, Robin introduced himself. "I'm Robin of Locksley. The Lady Marian tells me you are related to one of my men."
The man nodded. "I am. My name is Nigel Pierce. Will Scarlett is my son."
"Will doesn't talk much about himself or his family." Robin said. "When did he last see you?"
"Oh, well," the man said, shifting from foot to foot and looking more than a little uncomfortable. "It's been a while." He forced a chuckle. "I won't claim to be the best father. Lord knows I let 'im and 'is mother down often enough."
Robin nodded. "So what made you want to contact him now?"
The man shrugged. "I suppose I've put off seein' 'im long enough. I know 'e's grown by now, and I know 'e likely 'as no need for me, but a man reaches an age where 'e needs to be with family. I s'pose my time 'as come."
"Mr. Pierce, have a seat and tell me of the last time you saw your son." Robin gestured to the table that stood in the center of the room. He noted the man's hesitation and uncertainty, but he didn't remark on it or try to alleviate it. He took a seat and Lady Marian took one beside him. Nigel Pierce sat stiffly as though not sure why he was there. Sure enough, he said as much a moment later.
"I'll be honest, Robin 'ood, I expected to see my son today. Is he here?"
Robin just smiled. "I'm a bit protective of my men." More so of my brother, he thought. "I want to get to know you. Whether you are or aren't his father is irrelevant if I think you mean him harm."
The man looked startled, shocked, and he didn't hide it. "Now, see 'ere! I'm Will Scarlett's father! You can't keep me from seein' my son!"
"Tell me when you last saw him. How old was he?" Robin insisted.
"I dunno…maybe about…twelve. I was visitin' from London. I'd 'ad a job there, and when it ended, I came through Nottingham to give 'im and 'is mum a bit of money." He smiled a crooked smile. "I wasn't the best father, like I said, but I did provide for them when I could." He leaned closer to Robin as though sharing a confidence. "Truth is, I regret not bein' around. Last time I saw 'im, 'e'd started tellin' tales. Lies dripped off 'is tongue like water down a falls." He laughed. "I remember 'is mum tellin' me e'd taken to tellin' people all sorts of stories. But surely this can wait. I want to meet my son."
Robin considered the man's words as well as his appearance and demeanor. He knew the man was lying, but he wasn't lying very well. Will's mother had died when Will was ten, so there was no way the man had given her money when her son was twelve, but that wasn't all.
Robin knew enough about Will to know he resented people questioning his veracity. He'd wondered that Will had been able to lie to the Sheriff and claim he'd seen Robin's grave when he knew perfectly well that Robin was nearby, armed, and planning a rescue. Will's stutter when he'd done it had made him sure the Sheriff wouldn't buy it, but Marian swore to him that, from where she stood, the words had been very convincing.
He though he heard a slight scuffle behind the nearby door, so again he cleared his throat.
"Told tales? What sort of tales?" He asked the man, sure that he didn't have much time before Will burst from behind the door threatening to cut the man's lying tongue from his head.
The man laughed as though he had a good joke to share. "Oh, once 'e told a neighbor I was off fightin' the Crusades! Once, 'e even 'ad a nobleman believin' that e' was the man's son!"
Robin opened his mouth to speak, but Will burst through the door at that moment, anger and shouts. Piss and wind.
"Liar!" Will screamed. "I'll cut your lying tongue from your head!" With those words, and with Azeem trying in vain to catch the young man's arm, he threw himself at the polished table and slid on his belly coming to a stop with his knife inches from the man's throat. "Tell Robin the truth!"
The man, too startled to run and too afraid of the knife hovering at his throat, moved his eyes in Robin's direction. "What…who is this?"
Robin raised an eyebrow and rose from his seat. He moved around the table and stood by Nigel facing him. "This? Why, Nigel! Don't you recognize your son?"
Nigel inhaled. "Why…sure…course I do! Will Scarlett! It's been…"
Will cut him off, his face contorted with rage, his eyes blazing a fury that made Robin glad he'd never seen that much of it directed at him. What Will had cast in his direction had been quite enough.
"Tell us why you're lying, and maybe Robin can convince me not to carve out your tongue." Whether it was the fierce conviction behind the words or the undeniable rage twisting Will's features, the man broke.
"I'm…I'm not…I don't know the boy." He glanced at Robin. "I made it up. I'm not his father."
"Will wonders never cease?" Robin asked, noting the change in the man's speech. "Why did you make it up?"
"I…thought there might be a way to get some cash from you…or something…being related to one of your men, maybe you'd take pity on me and let me have something…help me set up some sort of business. I'm…broke. I've lost everything…" He began to tremble. "I'd heard tell of the boy and that you'd become fond of him. There are tales that you blew up the Sheriff's castle when the Sheriff threatened to kill him. I thought I could use that."
Will just looked angrier with each passing word. "He's still lying," he told Robin.
Robin nodded. "I know."
"Just a minute!" the man declared. "I admit I had an angle, but this ruffian has no right…"
Robin snorted as Will's free hand shot out to punch the man in the face. His head smacked back against the back of the chair and forward again into Will's upraised fist a second time. Will then grabbed a hold of the man's hair and moved his knife closer to its target.
"Give me a reason." Will swore at the man, his low voice all the more menacing for it.
"Will," Robin said and Will froze, the anger in his eyes shifting as he turned to look Robin in the eye.
"Robin," Will replied, his exasperation obvious.
"Please, Will. He won't get away with it. Let him go."
Will hesitated, but only for a moment. He looked at Nigel Pierce and spat in his eye before releasing him and slipping his knife into its sheath in his boot.
As Will moved away, Azeem took his place. Towering over the still seated man, he waited fro Robin's order.
"Now, Mr. Pierce, tell us the truth. Or shall I tell you what I already know just by speaking to you?" When the man gave him a look full of skepticism, he laughed and began to tell the tale as he understood it. "You came looking for something, but not necessarily for yourself. You lost your accent when you told us you were trying to get something from me, so that's probably only a half-truth. Your hands…beneath the obvious dirt, are not the hands of a farmer or of a laborer. Who are you? Or should I let Will carve that out of you along with your tongue?"
The man turned pleading eyes to Lady Marian. She merely smiled.
To Be Continued