A SCORE TO SETTLE

Rodger could hear voices. All else was dark and dim and far away. He felt as though he floated on a waveless sea under a black sky devoid of stars, drifting aimlessly. There was no pain, no fear. There were only voices. They faded in and out, muted and indistinct. They were talking about him, and to him.

"Rodger….hear….darling?"

I can hear you, Mother.

"Answer—squeeze my—hand….try, please try!"

I want to, Mother, but I can't. I'm so tired.

"Did this—you? Tell us!"

Father. Where am I? What's happening to me?

"Guy….don't think….hear you."

I can, Uncle Robin, I can!

"—God! Please, Rodger, wake—!"

He heard the heavy sobs of a man's inconsolable grief, and then the plaintive weeping of a woman.

Mother? Father? Why are you crying? I'm here! Aren't I? Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm dead. No, I can't be. I wish they'd stop talking at me now. I want to sleep….

One by one the voices faded away into silence.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Rodger did not regain a full measure of consciousness until the afternoon of the following day. He stirred, sighed, and slowly opened his eyes. He was lying in bed. It was not his own bedroom, and yet the room, softly lit by candles, was familiar, and someone was holding his hand. He turned his head, and the first face he saw was his mother's.

"Mother."

He didn't recognize his own voice. It came from his parched lips as a harsh, dry croak.

"Rodger, darling, oh, thank God you're awake!"

"What—what—where am I?"

"You're at your grandfather's. Do you remember?"

Of course. I was walking to Grandfather's house and—ow! What's wrong with my eye?

He reached up toward his face, but Mother took his hand, pulled it back to her, and clasped it tight.

"Don't touch your eye, Rodger. Wait until the swelling goes down."

Swelling? He attempted to sit up, but intense pain wracked his body from head to foot. He clutched at his abdomen and his chest, and, with a deep groan, eased himself back down.

"Lie still, dear! You're hurt. Don't try to get up. Guy, come here, he's awake."

Father, his face pale and his eyes exhausted, bent over him and took his hand.

"Do you remember anything, anything at all, son?"

Remember anything….

"Guy, please don't question him now."

"We have to find out who did this to him!"

"Wait until Robin comes back, at least. Where is Matilda?"

"Right here, Meggie, dear."

Matilda's warm, soothing hand stroked his brow. "How are you feeling, lad?"

"I'm thirsty, and I hurt real bad."

"Of course you do. You took quite a pounding, my boy. You must be made of tough stuff. Here, drink this, it will help."

A pounding? Oh, yes, I remember now. There was this boy—

She held a cup to his mouth, and he drank its contents down with a wrinkled nose.

Must be one of Matilda's remedies—effective but nasty.

The sweet fruit could not quite disguise the bitter aftertaste. He choked on the last few drops, sending fierce spasms down his chest.

"Let him rest a bit longer, Sir Guy," he heard Matilda say. "He hasn't come fully 'round yet. When his head's clear it'll be time enough to ask him questions. See if he wants something to eat. Just a few mouthfuls, mind you."

When Meg returned with a bowl of soup a short time later, Rodger had already fallen asleep.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I was walking here when they surrounded me. There were four of them, I think."

Father and Uncle Robin sat on either side of him. At the foot of the bed stood Archer. Rodger peered at them through one eye. The other was swollen shut. Both the physician and Matilda had looked carefully at Rodger's eye, however, and agreed that it would heal with time, as would the dark bruises that ran the length and breadth of his body.

The cracked ribs, and there were several of them, hurt worst of all. Mother and Matilda fussed with the arrangement of his pillows and blankets until Rodger could lie in tolerable comfort. Then the two women went downstairs to reassure Sir Wallace and Jane, and send word to their respective households in Locksley village.

News of the attack on Sir Guy and Lady Meg's son had already spread throughout Nottingham, to the family's dismay, but there was no keeping it secret. Rodger had been found by a group of men returning home from a tavern. One of them had recognized Gisborne's son, despite his bruised and bloodied face, and carried Rodger to his grandfather's house. Robin and Guy questioned the men afterward, but there were no eyewitnesses to the assault.

"Who were they? Do you know them?"

"Two of them I've never seen before. One I know, but the fourth—I don't know his name. He—he was the boy from the horse race, the one who hit me."

"Peter." Robin shook his head and grimaced.

"Who?" said Guy. "You know this boy, Robin?"

"Yes. He's Rowan's son."

"Rowan," Guy muttered. "Rowan. Where have I heard that name before?" He stared at Robin. "Wait. Is he—the same one who—Rodger, is he—"

"He's the boy I had a fight with in the marketplace, after he said you killed his grandfather."

"Why didn't you say something to us about this? Did you have words with him after the race?"

"No, I only saw him from a distance, at the dance."

"Who was the other boy who ganged up on you?" asked Archer. "You said you knew him."

When Rodger didn't answer, his father gripped his shoulder. "Rodger, you have to tell us."

"It-it was Robert."

"Robert? Sir Henry's son?"

Rodger nodded.

"Why? What was he doing there?"

"He said I stole Eleanor from him. Or maybe Peter said it. I can't remember."

Robin snorted. "Stole Eleanor from him? As if my daughter is anyone's property. Robert has no claims to her!"

"I only danced with her, Uncle Robin. I wasn't trying to steal her from anyone. We're friends, that's all."

"Rodger, did Robert hit you, too?" said Archer.

"I don't think so, it was just Peter. He said he was going to make me pay, and then the other boys held my arms, and he started to hit me. I asked Robert to help me, but he stood there and watched. They let go of me and I fell on the ground, and Peter started kicking me. I must have blacked out after that. I don't remember anything more."

The three men looked at each other, their faces somber.

"Should the Sheriff be called in on this?" asked Archer.

"Absolutely!" answered Guy vehemently, but Robin shook his head.

"We can't let them get away with this!"

"We won't, Guy, but let's not go to the Sheriff yet. It's late. We all need some rest. Let's wait until tomorrow, and then decide."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Robin and Marian returned to Locksley, while Guy and Meg stayed with Rodger. Early the next morning, a servant arrived from Sir Wallace's house. Rodger had eaten a little food, he told them, and was now resting and doing as well as could be expected, but Lady Meg wished to speak with them as soon as possible about an urgent matter.

Both Robin and Marian had a good idea what the "urgent matter" was about. They finished their breakfast hastily, secured Eleanor's promise that she would cooperate with Anna to care for the other children, and rode to Nottingham. Meg met them at the door.

"Archer is with Guy," she told them. "They're in the back garden."

The mask of calm fell away as tears filled her eyes.

"Robin, please help! I don't know what to do with Guy. He's so angry! I've never seen him like this. I'm afraid of what he will do. He wants to go to Rowan's house and confront him. I've begged him not to, but he won't listen to me."

When Guy won't listen to Meg, there's real trouble, thought Robin.

He looked into Meg's anxious face, her frightened eyes, and understood her fear. The man threatening violence against Rowan and his son was not the man Meg had married. This man was a stranger to her, but not to Robin.

When she met Guy, he was locked up in prison awaiting execution. A broken man, weak from hunger and torture, humbled and deeply remorseful. He found his courage after that, joined up with us, changed his ways, and became her hero, and that's how he's been all these years since.

But the man out in the garden with Archer? This is the side of Guy she never knew, the way I remember him when he was Sheriff Vaisey's lieutenant. A coldhearted, brutal, dangerous man who, under Vaisey's orders, had people tortured and killed. The man who terrorized villagers and took everything they owned for the Sheriff's unjust taxes. This is the man who could thrust a sword or a knife into another man and walk away without a backward glance.

Guy has fought hard to put that man behind him. Is he now about to lose the fight, and go down that same dark path again?

No, I won't let him, for Meg and his children's sake if not for his.

"Marian, stay here with Meg. I'll see what I can do."

"Let me talk to him, Robin."

"No, Marian, not this time."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Robin walked out to the back garden of Meg's father's house. The lovely, serene setting—the rows of heavily laden fruit trees and tidy beds of herbs and flowers—stood in sharp contrast to the raised voices of Guy and Archer, deep in a heated argument.

"To hell with him and his son!" he heard Guy say. "I don't care what Sir Henry thinks, or what he does with that idiot son of his. He's not my concern right now. It's Rowan and that bastard—"

"Robin!" Archer turned to Robin, his face radiating an expression of relief. "See if you can talk some sense into our brother before he does something crazy."

"I don't need anyone talking sense into me," Guy snarled. "I can bloody well think for myself. And enough with this pointless discussion. We need to do something now!"

"Guy, where are you going? If you're—no, don't! Wait one minute!" Robin grabbed for his arm, but Guy shoved him away.

"Robin, do not tell me what to do! You either, Archer!" he shouted, pointing a finger at each of them in turn.

"Guy, I'm just asking you to—"

"My son is lying in there, Robin! My son! You expect me to just take it? Say nothing, be all forgiving and let it go?"

"Guy, listen to me. No, stop yelling and listen. Have you forgotten that I have a child, too? What if it were Eleanor, if she'd been beaten up, or worse? And, no, I'm not suggesting you just let this go. I'm asking you to wait until we think this through."

"What is there to think about? That boy and his gang beat my son half to death!"

Robin took hold of Guy's shoulder in a strong grip as the man once again started to walk away. Robin felt him tense, and glimpsed the dark fury in his eyes. He wondered how much of that fury might possibly translate into rash actions, and how much was bluster. One never knew with Guy. He was as unpredictable as he was volatile. He tried to pull his arm from Robin's grasp, but Robin held on tenaciously and forced Guy to stop and look him in the face.

"Rowan needs to be confronted, I agree. He needs to know what his son has done. And so does Sir Henry. And there needs to be action taken to punish the ones responsible. I don't disagree with you. But if you go over there in a fit of anger, nothing good will be accomplished. Please, Guy! For once, stop and think before you act!"

"You don't know what you're asking me."

"Yes, I do. Don't do this. It won't solve anything. You know as well as I that there'll be no end of trouble that will come of it. Don't do this to Meg, to your other children."

Guy clenched and unclenched his fists, and fixed Robin with a murderous glare. But Robin saw past it. Guy was not angry with him, or Archer. He was angry at Rowan, at Peter, and most of all, he was angry at himself—the outraged father of an innocent boy who had been cruelly punished for his father's past sins.

That's Gisborne, he thought, with a pang of pity and understanding. Always thinking with his heart instead of his head. Rodger is hurt, yes, but both Matilda and the physician agree that he will recover. Guy and I have suffered worse. We've done worse to each other. Rodger's a strong lad, he'll get through it, but not if his father goes off on some out-of-control vengeful rampage—

"Don't go over to Rowan's house right now. As your friend and your brother, Guy, I'm asking you. Don't do it."

Guy stared at him wordlessly, hung his head for a moment, and then slammed his fist against the wall of the house in impotent rage.

He'd like to bury his fist in my face right about now, and Archer's face, too, just to relieve his frustration, before he runs off to Rowan's house and wrecks havoc there. But I won't allow it, for his own good. If Archer and I have to take him down and sit on him, or tie him up, then by God we will.

"Guy, listen, before we involve the Sheriff or anyone else, let me go over to Rowan's house. We can both talk to Sir Henry if you like, but for now, let me deal with Rowan and Peter. Stay here with Archer and look after your son. I'll be back soon, and we'll go from there. Are we agreed?"

There was a long, sulky silence, before Guy finally nodded a reluctant acquiescence. Robin left him in Archer's care. He walked out onto the street in the direction of Rowan's house, and, with a heavy sigh, wondered for the hundredth time what he had gotten himself into when he made a friend and brother of Guy of Gisborne.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Note: My apologies, dear readers, for the delay in getting this chapter up, after leaving you with a cliffhanger last time! I've had company for several days, been out of town for several more, and am now quite sick with some weird virus. This chapter is largely the product of a feverish brain, so I hope it makes sense! The next chapter will be a continuation of this one, and I will try to get it written and posted a little quicker. Thank you all for reading, and for your patience!