Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
The Long Road Home by Ecri
Part 9: Hanging in the Balance
John stood as soon as they were out of sight. He called to the oldest child still remaining in camp. The boy was all of 17 years old, and had once idolized John, though that had calmed over the years. As he'd grown up, he'd earned John's respect and in turn the respect of most of the men in the camp.
"Jack!" The boy raced to him. "Can you follow them without them seeing?"
The boy nodded and made to head off, but John caught his wrist. "I mean it. Keep out of sight. Take no chances. That man will kill you if he catches you. Just follow at a distance and see where they go." The boy nodded once more and was gone.
John turned to Fanny. "Everyone all right?" When she nodded, he turned to the remaining men. "We need to be ready. Robin may want us to go after Will, or he may want to do that himself. He likely will want us to move. Those men found us. We can't stay here any more. Until we're pardoned, we're still outlaws."
John set tasks for them all, reluctantly leaving Fanny to clean up their little one's scrapes. They set about cleaning up after the mishap. John couldn't help but wonder what the man wanted with Will and Robin. He couldn't believe that the boy had gone and offered himself in exchange for them all. Not that he didn't consider Will a brave man. Of course he was. It was just that the grand gesture was usually not something he was accustomed to making.
As they worked, John couldn't help but grow anxious. The anticipation of how Robin would take this was tearing him up. Robin had become fiercely protective of Will since he'd learned of their relationship. John couldn't help but feel he'd let the man down. In a sense, Robin had left Will in his care. Not explicitly, of course, but leaving at all was only something Robin was comfortable doing because John was here to look after things. Those things included Robin's little brother.
He hoped something would lead the hunting party home early, but he knew they'd planned to stay out overnight. After an hour had passed, he decided there was no way around it. He had to go and find Robin on his own. He told Fanny what he intended.
"Of course, you're right, John, but is it practical? Do you even know where they were going to hunt?"
John shook his head. "I know they had a few places in mind." He looked up with a sudden idea. "We can send one of the kids to each place to get a message to him."
Fanny shook her head. "No. I don't think that's safe, and…we only have one copy of the letter that man wrote. He'll have to come here to read it anyway. He'll be back by morning at the latest. Jack hasn't even come back to tell us where they've gone yet, so even if he got here right now, he'd have to wait."
"Robin and Azeem could track the horses." John insisted.
"True enough." She smiled at him. "Go on then. See if you can find him. I'll keep the letter here, though so he can read it if he comes back before you."
"Safer that way, anyway." John agreed. He gave her a kiss and started walking.
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
The mornings in Sherwood were some of the prettiest mornings in all of England, Robin was sure. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent and happy all over again that he'd returned from the Crusades.
He hadn't slept well last night. Something troubled his sleep, keeping him tossing and turning as though in anticipation of something, but seeing this morning' golden light and smelling the sweet, clean air, it was hard to maintain the kernel of worry that had gnawed at him in the deepest part of the night.
They'd risen early and packed up the carcasses and had been on their way home for about a half hour when they bumped into John.
"John, what are you doing here?" Robin smiled, though he was confused.
John's relief at seeing Robin was obvious and wakened the worry he'd managed to push aside. The smile slipped from his face as John approached. "What's happened, John?"
"Men came to the camp. They took Will." John began.
"What?" Robin felt the kernel of worry blossom into a full-blown panic. "Who was it? Why did they take him?" Anyone there to arrest Will would have taken John and the others as well, so this was something else. It dawned on him then. "This is something to do with the man who claimed to be Will's father."
"I couldn't say, but it's likely. He didn't identify himself. He did leave a message for you. Fanny has it for safekeeping. I've sent Jack to follow the men who took Will. With any luck he'll be back by now with some news of where they went." John took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Robin."
Robin shook off the apology. "You've nothing to be sorry for, if that bruise is any indication of the fight you put up."
"But…Will…"
"We'll find him," Robin said, with a certainty and bravado he didn't actually feel. He turned to look for Azeem, surprised to find the Moor by his side since he hadn't heard the man's approach. "We should go on ahead. We can move more quickly if we go now." He seemed to be asking his friend if he thought the others would be able to make it back without them.
Azeem nodded. "They will be fine. We must find him."
Robin turned to Bull, who was hovering nearby waiting for some word of what Robin would do. "Bull, Azeem and I are going on ahead with John. You're in charge of getting everyone back safely."
Bull nodded. "We'll 'urry, Robin, in case you need us."
Robin smiled and turned back to John and Azeem. "Let's go."
The trio moved swiftly through Sherwood. It was their home and they knew it well. Fallen trees, tree roots, rocks, nothing was a real impediment to them. As they moved, John told them what happened.
"It was a brave thing to do, Rob," John said, shaking his head.
Robin agreed. "He'll never believe that. He'll say he was just being practical." Robin sighed and looked at John. "Will considers himself a coward. I sometimes wonder if that's my fault."
John looked startled.
Robin waved a hand vaguely and exhaled slowly. "For telling him the one weapon he lacked was courage."
"You can say a lot of things about Will Scarlett, Robin, but you can't say he ever made it easy." They shared a laugh before John continued. "Will was never what you'd call bold. He counseled against direct attack. It's no wonder really, since that sort of thing often backfired for him. Will was brave, but he'd never choose to face something head on if a round about path could get him the same result. Made him good at finding that round about path." John sighed. "Of course, you weren't the first to mistake that for cowardice. It made him…sensitive."
"I should never have said that." Robin shook his head, brooding now over the hurt he imagined he must have caused his brother. He'd antagonized Will—baited him. On some level, he thought as he walked, I had to know he'd react. It's no great surprise that he would lash out. He'd been looking for a reason since we met. I handed it to him and shot him in the hand for daring to take the shot. Robin shuddered at the memory. He had been upset at the time, telling himself that he hadn't purposely baited the boy, but deep down, he'd known he had. There wasn't any other way for a boy like Will to have reacted to being called a coward in front of everyone he knew.
John shook his head. "I've got eight children, Robin. Every time one of them get into some sort of trouble, I blame myself." He held up a hand when Robin tried to interrupt. "All I'm trying to say, Rob, is that you were both wrong. He was mad at you for reasons you didn't know at the time, and you were mad at him because he'd made you a target of his anger for so long. That's not what this is about. This is about him being missing. This is about him being taken from you when you weren't there to prevent it. This is about him doing the brave and bold thing for once and likely ending up in more trouble than he can handle." He looked Robin in the eye. "This is about family."
Robin nodded and offered John a tentative smile. "You're a smart man, John Little."
John laughed and shook his head. "If there's one thing I know about Robin of Locksley, it's family."
Robin slipped into silence. He had to admit, John Little knew a lot about family. It was perhaps the thing Robin himself knew least about. His mother had died when he was still a child. He and his father had been estranged for more than half his life. He'd discovered he had a brother just a few weeks ago. It wasn't something to which he could honestly say he'd readily adapted. Recalling his reaction when Will had told him, he felt his cheeks flush in shame. He'd pushed Will repeatedly. He'd told him to shut up. He'd screamed at him that he was lying, when, in his heart, he'd known the truth.
Moments later, he'd embraced Will and clung to him as though to life itself, and, in a way, it had felt like that. He had been alone. Yes, there were friends like Azeem, John, and the others. There was even Marian, with whom he hoped to make a family of his own, of course, but there was no one else of his bloodline. No one else connected in any way to his parents, his childhood, or the life he had known. Granted the connection was tenuous at best. He and Will had not grown up together. They did not share the same childhood memories or have a history to draw upon in the traditional way that siblings did, but when Will had said who he was, he had stirred the emotions of a twelve-year-old boy who had lost his mother and was angry with his father. It had almost been as if the intervening years had not happened. He felt as that boy had felt…that misguided, selfish, unrepentant child who had destroyed the lives of Will, his mother and of his own father. In a way, it had been the twelve-year-old Robin who had denied Will's words and pushed him away. Given a moment to adjust to the shock, the present-day Robin had embraced Will wholeheartedly.
He had told himself that he would always be there for Will, protect him, support him, and make up to him all the things that his selfishness had cost him.
He hadn't done too well.
They reached the campsite and Robin couldn't say he'd actually been aware of the journey. He'd been lost in his memories, guided by his guilt and worry.
Now he moved quickly to Fanny, who, having seen Azeem, Robin and her husband return, raced toward Robin, the letter Will's captor had left held tightly in her hand.
"Robin! Thank goodness!" Fanny said as she handed it to him.
Robin tore open the letter and read it hurriedly. Reaching the end, he read it through again.
"Rob?" John asked softly, and Robin immediately explained the high points of the letter.
"It's not signed. It says he sent his man to collect Will to 'pay for the peasant boy's transgressions' and because 'his sanity is in question as his tales are pure imagination' …he goes on to say that Will won't be long for this world and will soon 'share his mother's fate' and if I should try to rescue Will, he might consider my sanity in question and petition to ensure that my father's lands and titles are never restored to me."
He looked up from the letter. "It says, 'share his mother's fate'" Robin said softly. "His mother died in a fire…"
Fanny, tears in her eyes, nodded. "She was burned alive."
Azeem cleared his throat. "You are going after him." It wasn't a question, and Robin knew Azeem would go with him if he needed help. Azeem had told him that Allah had brought him to England to help in Robin's struggle against Nottingham. He had then told him that he was sure part of Allah's plan had been for him to bring peace between Will and Robin. Like so many things that Azeem said, Robin hadn't really understood it at the time. He and Will didn't need Azeem's help in that respect. They weren't warring with each other. Certainly not after Will had revealed who he was.
Now, thinking about it, he realized that while they had reached a tentative peace, they had not yet even begun to try to understand each other. They did a careful dance between revealing too little and revealing too much. Will especially seemed unable to believe that Robin intended to acknowledge him as a brother. He himself hadn't really tried to understand what Will's life had been like. It was well and good trying to learn everything he'd been through, but he couldn't help but wonder if that had been anything more than morbid curiosity. Surely he should have gone to Will and not gone to John and Fanny and gathered information behind his brother's back.
Robin looked at Fanny. "Has Jack returned?"
Fanny nodded, "Just before you got here. Poor lad is tuckered out. He's having a bit of stew." She gestured toward her home, and Robin, Azeem and John headed straight for it. "Now, hold on!" Fanny said cutting them off. "I'll not have you lot running in there and scaring the boy to bits." Having their attention, she continued. "Let me go in to let him know you're back."
She disappeared inside. They stood nearby, properly chastised for their haste. Robin was clearly impatient. Azeem put a hand on his shoulder in silent support and to help the man calm himself.
John laughed. "That's my Fanny! A few words from her, and we're all standing around saying 'yes, ma'am' with hats in hands!"
Robin was about to reply when Fanny came out. "All right, you can come in. He has a lot to tell you."
The others stood a moment, making way for Robin to go in first, then followed. They found the boy standing by the small window, though his back was to it. He seemed nervous and Robin couldn't tell if it was because of what he'd seen or simply because he had to talk to Robin about the people who'd taken his brother.
Robin put him at his ease. It was something he'd learned to do by watching his father. A word, a gesture, and someone in authority became someone to confide in. He'd done it often enough in his earliest days in Sherwood. The adults were now his friends. The children were sometimes in awe of him, and Jack, somewhere between adulthood and childhood, was half way in each.
Seated around John's and Fanny's home, Robin asked Jack to tell him where Will was.
The boy shook his head as he grimaced in anticipation of Robin's reaction. "I lost them."
Robin clenched his teeth for a moment to contain his disappointment.
The boy faltered, and Robin gave him a smile. "It's all right. Tell us what you do know."
The boy sighed in relief, but seemed reluctant to tell his tale.
Azeem interrupted. "You have a story to tell, Jack. Even if we don't know where it ends, tell us the rest."
"Yes, by all means, Jack." Robin said, warmly. "Tell us all you know."
Jack took a deep breath and began his story.
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
Azeem watched Robin and Jack by turns. He watched Robin to see if he were handling the news without caving to his anger, and he watched Jack because he knew the boy had likely seen more than he would report. Not on purpose, of course, but he was young and remembering to report everything no matter its perceived significance would not readily occur to him. He wanted to know when he should ask questions to drag more out of him.
The boy hesitated, but then began his tale.
"I followed them like John said. I stayed well back, like we used to when we were spotters to take the taxes for crossing through Sherwood. I used our signal once, the bird call that Will taught us, so he'd know at least that he wasn't alone." He looked down and stopped.
Robin looked at Azeem, and the Moor saw that the Englishman's worry prevented him asking. He spoke before the silence grew too awkward. "You must tell us everything, Jack. Was Will hurt? We need to know if he might be too injured to aid in his own escape."
The boy nodded, though whether confirming Will's injury or indicating he understood, Azeem couldn't say. The boy took up the story before he could ask.
"Will was tied. His wrists were tied together, and there was a long lead tied to the head man's saddle."
Robin and Azeem looked to John, who had not mentioned this. The man nodded. "They did that before they left, Rob. I'm sorry. I forgot to mention. If I could have done anything…"
Robin nodded. "I know." He turned back to the boy. "Go on, Jack."
"Well, every so often, if the road was clear enough, the leader moved into a trot. Once or twice he flat out galloped. Will tried to keep up, but he fell a few times." The boy shuddered at the memory. "They stopped a few times, either to get him up or to water the horses. They didn't offer Will any water."
The way he hesitated Azeem felt he had to ask. "There's more?"
"Yes," the boy sighed as though he could delay having to say any more. "Once or twice they offered the water, but they pulled it back when he tried to accept it. After that, he never took them up on the offer.
"He was brave, Robin! He never pleaded, even when they told him to, and he never cowered away from any of them, even though he must have known they were going to hit him." He smiled for the first time. "Once, when the leader yanked him to his feet after a fall, Will spat in his eye and butted heads with him like a fifteen-point stag! He gave as good as he got!"
Azeem smiled sadly at the image of the Young Christian, defiant and belligerent, even though bound and threatened.
Robin hadn't gotten past that image. "Having head-butted his captor, I assume they didn't just laugh that off." It wasn't a question, Azeem noted, but it demanded an answer anyway.
Jack shook his head looking down again.
"Go on," Azeem urged when he stopped.
"He walked up to Will and he said something. I couldn't hear it, but Will seemed shaken by whatever it was. Then he kicked Will's legs out from under him. When Will fell, they kicked him in the stomach." Jack was uncomfortable now. Tears stood in the boy's eyes, and he dashed a hand across them obviously hoping no one had seen it. "They were heading toward Nottingham, but when I got close, one of them saw me. They chased me and I nearly didn't get away…"
Azeem reached across and patted the boy's shoulder. "You've done well, Jack. You've given us a start and the information we need. You should rest. You've been up all night."
The boy looked to Robin, who nodded with a half-hearted smile. The boy thanked Fanny for the food and left.
Azeem looked to John and Fanny. "We will need to make our plans. How many men can we count on?"
John looked surprised at the question. "As many as you want and then some. There's not a soul who wouldn't help that boy after what he did. Those men were going to start killing us and we all knew it. Somehow, Will talked them out of it and offered himself as a means to protect all of us." John shook his head and Azeem saw the wonder in his eyes. "He keeps to himself so much, that lad, that we forget sometimes that when he's pushed up against a wall, he can always find a way to protect himself and the people he wants protected."
Robin shook his head. "He didn't protect himself."
Azeem knew Robin was still tormenting himself with the idea that, had he been here or had he insisted on Will going on the hunting trip, he could have dispatched the hired men or found some way to keep them from getting a hold of his brother. Azeem knew two things. One, if Robin had been here, they would either have both been taken or both been killed, and two if Will had not been there, the camp would have been burned a second time, and there could well have been no survivors.
Azeem looked at Robin. "We need to make our plans," he said again more firmly. "We can yet discover where he is being held. The note will contain clues, even if the author did not intend it to be so."
Robin nodded. "We need to move our camp. They know where we are and how to find us."
"But…what if he escapes?" Fanny asked. "He won't be able to find us."
Robin looked Fanny in the eye and Azeem knew what he was thinking. How was he to tell the woman that there'd be no escape for Will Scarlett? Somehow, Fanny saw it in Robin's face. She nodded absently, eyes wide in horror, as the rest of the group moved outside and sat by the fire talking to the other outlaws of Sherwood. Their plan would be vague at first, at least until they could discover where Will was being held, but now at least, he'd gotten Robin to work on the task instead of lamenting his brother's fate.
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
It was darkness so complete it was overwhelming. There was no hint of light. Will woke slowly, his head pounding though whether that was from his journey here, the falls he'd taken, the blows he'd received or simple hunger and thirst, he couldn't guess. He tried to open his eyes, and realized he was blindfolded. From the stench and lack of fresh air, he was sure there was some sort of sack over his head as well. He shifted and felt the floor shift beneath him. Reflexively, tried to move his hands to steady himself, but they were tied to…he moved his hands slightly feeling metal at his wrists as well as rope. Bars. Metal bars. He was in a cage and tied to its bars. A cage that swung over open air…he felt a breeze flutter through the bars and realized he had no shirt.
Why would he be suspended in a cage with no shirt? Why was there no one here to taunt him or to torture him? Not that he looked forward to the torture. He much preferred solitude to pain, but as many times in his life as he'd been a captive, this was like nothing he'd ever experienced.
Deciding he had nothing to lose, he shifted again, and waited for the swinging to settle. When it did, he realized the cage was being lowered. Slowly, it moved to the ground, which it hit none too gently.
He heard someone fumble on one side of the cage…the side directly opposite where he was tied. "Hello?" He called out, but the word was muffled even to his own ears.
"Ah, awake, are you Scarlett?" The voice was not the one of the man who'd taken him from Sherwood, but Will would know it anywhere. He felt rage awaken in his heart and he struggled against his bonds.
The man made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Now, now, Scarlett, is that any way to behave?" He heard the door open and the man leaned into the cage. He swung out with his foot and was rewarded with the sounds of surprise and pain. Will grinned.
The sack was torn from his head, and the blindfold ripped from his eyes. He blinked, adjusting to the daylight with difficulty, and saw the face of the man he hated more than he'd ever hated his own father or brother. He tried to spit in that face, but his mouth was too dry.
"You have told tales best not told, boy, and you have made claims no peasant bastard should make." He smiled maliciously. "Do you recognize this?" The man gestured to the cage, but Will could only glare at him. "No? Pity. It's the cage that held your father as he breathed his last. Assuming that Lord Locksley was indeed your father. If he was, it's a fitting enough resting place for his bastard son. If he wasn't," again the malicious smile lit the Duke's features. "Then his spirit can take revenge for your accusations. If you believe in vengeful spirits, of course."
Will's stomach sank at the thought. He'd seen the cage and his father, lifeless and decaying, inside it for months. He'd had to swallow his own tears when he'd seen the dead body of his father hanging from the burned out ruins of Locksley Castle. He'd started to climb the ruins hoping to find a way to cut the man down arguing with himself as he did that he was under no obligation to the man who had thrown his mother and him away like so much garbage. An old, blind man—whom he now knew was Duncan—had shouted at him to go away, and rather than explain himself he'd done just that. He'd refused to allow himself the luxury of grieving for the man, but he had grieved for the lost possibility of meeting Lord Locksley and telling the man who he was.
He almost choked on the stench of decay still clinging to the cage, though he wasn't sure he hadn't imagined that. As he turned his head, he realized the cage wasn't the only similarity to his father's final resting place.
Wide-eyed, he glanced around at the ruins of Locksley Castle.
The Duke saw the recognition there. "Ah, yes, it's Locksley's home. Robin of the Hood will never think to look for you here. So it serves my purpose in so many respects."
He leaned inside the cage once more, eyes blazing with rage. "I will have satisfaction. You accused me in front of Lady Marian and the rabble staying there of things to which no nobleman would admit. You accosted me and would have tried to exact your revenge with your blade if that fool Robin Hood had not stopped you!" He wrapped his hands around Will Scarlett's throat and squeezed.
Will struggled for breath, his arms convulsing in instinctive spasms as he pulled against the ropes in an attempt to bring his hands over to keep the Duke from killing him. He tried to use his legs, but he couldn't get the leverage.
The Duke, however, had no intention of killing Will just yet. He released Will watching the desperate attempts to take in more air, the coughing, and the continued struggle against the too tight ropes. When Will was finally breathing, albeit roughly, the Duke began to whisper.
At first, Will wasn't able to focus, but after the first few sentences, he realized the Duke was as unhinged as he was wealthy. He stared in apprehension as he realized what the man was saying.
"Your 'brother' will look for you, though I'm sure he's not really your brother. He will search, because for some reason, he does believe you. He thinks I intend to burn you alive as your mother burned." He waved a hand in a vague gesture. "I let him believe that." He reached for the blindfold tying it to cover Will's eyes. "You will die, of course, but it will be a slow death…one of exposure and hunger and thirst." He smiled. "He may never find you at all, not even your remains, but if he does, he will find you as he found his father…dead and decaying and far too late!"
The Duke produced more rope and tied Will's legs securely to the cage. He was secured in an upright position, standing. He could not kick. He could not turn his back to the wind. He could not curl up in an attempt, however feeble, to preserve whatever body heat he still possessed, and, shirtless in England's early winter, he wouldn't have much warmth left for very long.
The nobleman dropped the hood to the ground, deciding for some reason not to use it, and then he slammed the cage door shut. A moment later, Will heard the squeaky pulley and felt the cage lift slowly into the air. He tried to scream, but his throat was raw and sore and it was still difficult to take a breath. Will could only hope that there was no permanent damage from the Duke's attempt to strangle him. He tried to kick, but the man had secured his legs too well. He pulled on the ropes holding his hands in place, but they were immobile. He shook his head, hoping he might shake off the blindfold, and his mind insisted on conjuring images of his father being held in this same cage.
A sound assaulted his ears, surprisingly loud. It was the sound of wings…a raven perched above him cawing madly for a moment or two and he could not acknowledge it. He could not talk to it, kick it or kill it and eat it. His stomach rumbled at the thought of eating, but a moment later the appetite turned to nausea as he remembered where he was.
He was tired, but he was too afraid and too cold to sleep. He was so thirsty that swallowing was difficult. He was so dizzy that he had become lightheaded. His brain continued to replay the Duke's words. Unhinged was too kind a word for the man.
He'd seen lunacy before. He'd seen it up close. You couldn't live on the streets and not see it once in awhile. A man who'd spent to many winters sleeping rough might walk into a river covered in ice. A woman who'd lost too many children to hunger and harsh weather might take to talking to a piglet as though it were a babe. A child who'd taken one too many beatings might lash out in anger against a platoon of the Sheriff's men being rewarded with a sword to the belly.
He shivered as these memories swam in his mind, although he pretended it was merely the cold.
Will summoned his defiance and his anger thinking that might keep him warm. He'd wanted to compose another limerick, to toss out an insulting rhyme at the Duke that would let the man know how little this abduction had affected him, but his voice had deserted him. He'd tried to swallow to get it to work again. When he'd thought he could speak, he'd realized his tired brain would not give him the words. Never before in his life had words ever abandoned him. At one time or another, everyone he knew or cared about had done just that, but words had been his weapons. He could always hurl them with great accuracy whether he meant to injure or persuade, humiliate or insult, his quick wit had never failed to find the right combination of words combined with the correct tone for the occasion to achieve what he desired…until he'd met Robin at any rate. Robin had stirred his hatred, and for a time, that hatred had enraged him to the point that words had failed him. Just like fear had done now. When confronted with the Duke, and the horrors of where he was and what the man had planned for him, he'd drawn a blank.
The only thing that had still in his power was the defiance in his eyes and the hatred he had long nurtured against wealthy lords and noblemen.
It had not had the desired affect. He'd seen the calculation, and the ruthlessness as well as the insanity and knew at once that even had he found the words he'd wished for a moment ago, they would have been of little use. He would have no affect on this man. He could not persuade or humiliate. He could not injure or induce trust. The man was a calculating, patient and insane man. Will knew it then. He had met the mad man who would be the end of him.
To Be Continued