A/N: Thanks to Emmithar for the beta!

Chapter 7: Debates

Djaq had been torn. Every instinct inside of her had urged her to jump into the fight the gang was losing outside of Nottingham. Her reasoning had told her differently. It had told her in calm words that the men who were battling there, who had lain ready in wait to trap the outlaws, had not noticed her. She had trailed behind the rest of the gang and in the confusion of the battlefield they had missed the small woman.

So she had ducked out of sight, her mind telling her that she needed to get away, so she could come back for another fight, a fight they might be able to win. She had listened to reason, although her emotions were punishing her for it, giving her a feeling of having abandoned the gang. The only way she would get rid of this feeling would be to go after them and help them.

But she knew that she had to bide her time. It wasn't long before the outlaws surrendered and were taken into the town. She waited till all of the guards had left, waited even after that had happened. After a long while, she pulled her hood over her head and walked on. She was not certain how she planned to get into the town, but she hoped that the guards would not pay attention to her, as they had not paid attention earlier.

Djaq felt the pressure on herself. The gang had been on the way to save Will. Now she was on the way to save the gang. She was alone, the only one left and she prayed Will was still there to be saved, too. She knew she could not fight her way into the dungeons. She could handle a bow well enough, but she would not be able to rescue the outlaws from the gallows as Robin could. But then she also realized that she could do things Robin couldn't. While he might use a sword or bow and arrows, she had other ways. She only had to think it through, then she would be able to help the men.

As she slowly walked over the drawbridge, she thought back to the big cities of her own lands. The English towns were backward compared to those back home. It seemed almost an absurd thought, at least it certainly would have been considered so at home, that she was now trying to sneak into such an English town on a cold autumn day to save a bunch of English outlaws. She smiled sorrowfully, keeping her head down to hide her expression from the guards that stood at the gate to Nottingham.

She had almost passed the gate when it happened.

"Stop," one of the guards called. "Where are you going?"

She stopped dead in her tracks, but did not answer the question. She knew anyone would realize she was not from here as soon as she opened her mouth. So she kept it closed, and started gesturing with her hands instead. She pointed at her head, at her mouth, trying to communicate that she could not talk. Finally it seemed to work.

"I think he's dumb, Harry."

"Looks that way, doesn't it," the other man agreed. "Are you going to the market?" he asked Djaq.

She stared only ahead, unwilling to look directly at him. "You!" he called very loudly. "Market?" he pointed into the direction of the place.

Djaq nodded.

"Alright. Get going," the guard shrugged and when Djaq didn't react although she felt like running, he rolled his eyes and pointed at first at her and then at the market place.

She nodded again and hurried to get away. When she was well out of sight of the guards, she let out a sigh of relief. What she had done would have never worked with the whole gang of outlaws. The man had only paid attention to the fact that she seemed to not be able to hear or speak, but they had not even looked at her closely enough to notice that she was a woman.

She moved through the town, evading bumping into people doing their daily business. The sounds of work and of talking filled her ears. It was all just a drown of words at first, but then she picked out meanings of a conversation two men were leading next to her, waiting at a well to be the next to fill their buckets. It was the mentioning of outlaws, then of Robin that caught her attention and she stopped, pretending to wait at the well, too.

"Serves him right, I say," one of the men said.

"I'm not sure. He did a lot of good. He helped." The other man shook his head.

"All of the winter storage is gone, you know what that means?"

"Who says it's all gone?"

"People say it. They saw the outlaws. They burned it all."

"They don't burn food. They give food to the poor."

"It's as I told you," the man pressed his lips together to a thin line.

"Now what the sheriff's telling-"

"It's not just the sheriff saying so. It's the people. I don't believe all the sheriff's saying, no, I don't. But you've got to trust what your fellow man says."

"I still think Robin has done a lot of good. He's saved all those lads from hanging, way back."

The other man grimaced. "Well, this won't work well now, will it?"

"I still think it isn't right."

"It's the law."

There was silence for a moment before the other man spoke again. "Law says they will hang the outlaws."

The other man nodded. "I heard they strung up one of them this morning. Now that they've got the rest of them, they are going to hang, too."

"Even Robin."

"Well, the sheriff isn't quite through with him yet, and neither are the people I'd say. It had to come to this one day, was clear as the sun. But if they really stole and burned all the food," he shook his head. "How many people will die this winter? I'm not going to shed a tear for them. Maybe it's better they're all gone."

The other man did not reply again, and soon afterwards it was his turn to fill his bucket at the well. Djaq moved out of the way as more people lined up after her to stand there and wait for their turns.

She hoped she had misunderstood the man. Her ears wanted to make her believe they had said that an outlaw had been hung this morning. She figured she probably didn't know the language as well as she had thought, for it was not possible that they had hung Will Scarlet even before Robin and the gang had reached Nottingham. If they had killed Will, and would kill the others later, there was no one there anymore for her to help. There would be no point in her being there. So this could not be right. She had surely misunderstood.

Djaq hurried away from where the conversation she had overheard had taken place, making her way deeper into the town. She kept hearing word of the store being empty, food being destroyed, outlaws being caught, outlaws being hanged. Her ears still did not want to cooperate.

When she finally reached the market, she slipped behind a large sheet that had been strung up to shield off some goods. There, at this protected place, she admitted to herself that her ears were fine and her language skills sufficient. She swallowed, trying to stay calm, focused. She had to save the others. She had to save who could still be rescued. Later she could grieve for those who could not.

The sheriff had spread a story that had a base in some truth, though it still was a lie. A lie the people believed and Djaq knew this meant that most would not be willing to help the outlaws escape. They would have to manage on their own. She could only pray that they would not try to stop the gang from getting away, hope they remembered the good Robin had done, whatever they were led to believe now.

These thoughts were going through her head, when she felt her hope being shattered at what she saw. It was in the distance, on the castle yard, but she could not doubt her eyes, as she had tried to doubt her ears. What she saw told her that she could not trust the people to remember the good. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that these were only ordinary, hardworking people who believed the basis of their survival for the coming cold and dark season gone. They were not vile; they were despaired, though she was still abhorred to see what some of them were doing.

Her heart went out to Robin as she made her way over to the castle yard. Nobody was blocking the gate, the people were allowed to move freely through it, surely to see the outlaw who was bound there. There were guards placed at his side, and Djaq wondered if it was more for his protection from the blood lust of the people, or in order to keep Robin from fleeing, however he was supposed to manage such a feat in his situation.

She knew she wouldn't be able to free him with the guards, and the people, around. They would be at her in moments. She would have to wait and bide her time again. She saw the ready gallows and the strained face of Robin, and guessed that she had not much time for waiting. She considered approaching him, maybe able to give a few comforting words to him, but then she knew she did not want to draw anyone's attention to herself. Some words from her might help Robin now, but they might hurt them all even more later if she did not manage to stay undetected.

She watched him for some moments though, hoping he might look up and catch her gaze. When he did not do so, she turned away sadly and walked back into the streets of Nottingham. She wondered how the situation would be at night. Would they leave Robin out there? Would still guards be with him? Maybe she would have a chance to free him then, when the castle and the rest of Nottingham was sleeping. Then there were the other outlaws. She would need Robin to get into the dungeons. Guards would be everywhere. She remembered the day she had been kept prisoner by the sheriff. Acid dissolving the metal bars of the cell had then helped her escape it, only for her to run into the jailer.

It created an additional problem. If she freed Robin and did not manage quickly to rescue the other outlaws as well, it would end badly for them, as the sheriff's wrath about Robin's escape would prove. So getting to the outlaws first so they could all come for Robin afterwards seemed to be the better solution, but there was still the question as to how she could accomplish that.

She let her mind wander through these questions while her eyes and ears remained focused on the world around her. She walked over the market place again, watching and listening to the people. It was then that she believed to see a familiar face. She shoved through several people to reach her.

"Marian!"

The woman turned around, surprise on her face. "Djaq." After the initial smile her face returned to a strained expression that the Saracen could understand very well. "We've got to talk," Marian said, glancing towards the castle yard.

"Is it safe to talk here?" Djaq asked quietly, pressing her lips together in emphasis and hinting a glance behind the other woman. A guard was standing some feet away and he seemed to be paying attention to the two of them, seemed almost about to come over.

Marian smiled, turning around to look at the man briefly before facing Djaq again. "It's Will."

"Will?" the Saracen asked sharply, looking closer at the guard now, recognizing the man's features under the helmet he was wearing, something she had missed earlier, as she had not expected to see him. She had not expected to see him again at all, and it was a small smile that came to her face now. "He got away."

Marian nodded, tension still in her expression. "The sheriff has Robin's men in the dungeons," she said quietly. "Robin... you have seen him, I think."

"We are going to save them," Djaq assured her, elevated and hopeful thanks to Will's appearance.

"But you're right. We've got to go somewhere else," Marian said quickly. "You can come with us into the castle."

"Into the castle?" Djaq saw all the opportunities this would offer.

"You can be my maid. As Will here is my guard," she smiled, "nobody's going to know you didn't leave with me earlier." She looked at the other woman. "You're going to need some other clothes though."

"Where am I going to get them?"

"I'm going to buy some at the market."

Djaq nodded and Marian walked off to fulfill the task, Will following behind her. Djaq watched him and saw that he still had trouble with his injured leg. She would have to ask about it later, would hopefully get a chance to take a look at it when they would be in the castle and help him with the pain. There were also so many things she wanted to ask him. They were many things to be discussed, plans to be made. And they had little time, she knew that.

Allan had debated it. He had debated an opportunity that wasn't even there yet, but he had decided that he had to think about it. Gisborne surely had to appreciate the work Allan had done during the last months, and although he hadn't started it fully voluntarily at first, he figured that he could just as well use the appreciation he should have gained with the man. It was certainly better than hanging.

Gisborne hadn't shown his face in the dungeons yet since the outlaws has been brought here, but as Allan knew painfully enough, the man sometimes did drop in. And once he would actually come... Allan had to prepared for that, would need to have made a decision what to do.

It wasn't easy. He couldn't outright ask Gisborne to release him in recognition of what had been. If the attempt failed, the other two outlaws would kill him, Allan was sure about that. The mood in the cell was dark. Much had been yelling after Robin for several minutes when they had taken him away, cursing the guards with violent words, and had then succumbed to grief, crying bitterly. Allan had felt very uncomfortable and had let John handle the situation.

It felt strange. He couldn't quite believe yet that both Will and Robin were gone. It felt wrong that they were sitting in the dungeons while their leader was hanged outside. Allan wasn't quite sure this was the only thing they had done to him. It certainly showed that the sheriff meant business and Allan felt that he had to do something or he and the other two outlaws would hang as well.

He had to convince Gisborne to let him go. Once he had achieved that he'd be able to come back for Much and John. They would still be angry then, but if he saved their lives they would surely be ready to forgive him. In order for that to come to be, he had to get out of here first, and this without risking being killed by the other two grieving men who would probably blame him for Will's and Robin's death if they learned of his cooperation with Gisborne. They wouldn't care that there was no truth behind that. Allan was certain he hadn't told Gisborne anything that had led to this mess. He would never do anything such as this.

As the day moved on Allan had to realize that Gisborne wasn't coming. It slowly dawned on him that the man wouldn't do so at all. The Master-At-Arms didn't need Allan anymore, as he reluctantly had to admit to himself. Gisborne had got what he had wanted; Robin. Robin was dead and Allan could deliver no more information about him that would be of any use to the sheriff's man.

Much had become quiet by now. He was sitting on the hard floor of the cell, his back leaning against the stone wall. There were no tears in his face anymore, but Allan found it disturbing that he was so quiet. John joined him in his silence.

Allan tried to catch the man's gaze, but John didn't look up.

"Maybe he got away," Much said suddenly. "He's good at that."

Allan grimaced, not quite ready for so much optimism.

"Yes, I'm sure he did," Much went on, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Why didn't he come back for us then?" Allan pointed out, feeling somewhat uncomfortable dashing Much's hopes.

"He's working on that," the man nodded. "He's going to get Djaq and they'll come back for us."

John remained silent. Allan would have liked to believe what Much was saying, but he was sure that the sheriff wouldn't have risked Robin getting away. The archer had managed unlikely escapes before, but even Robin couldn't do much on his own with all the guards around and without any weapon. Allan didn't believe he had managed to get away, and was actually fairly certain that the man's body was still swinging on the gallows outside, much to the sheriff's enjoyment.

Allan swallowed, remembering his own experience with the noose. Will had been there too, back then, when Robin had first saved them. Death had caught up with Will now and Allan was afraid he'd do so with him little later, if he didn't find a way to talk himself out of it.

TBC