"Robin, you're wounded!"

Turning a corner in a castle corridor, Much and the rest of Robin Hood's gang came upon their friend and former leader, gripping his thigh in a futile attempt to stop the flow of blood.

"Isabella stabbed me," Robin shot out, more concerned about his desperate need to find Marian than his loss of blood. "She must have struck an artery."

Without a word, Djaq set to work, probing his wound with her fingers. A crimson spurt of blood confirmed Robin's analysis. With quick efficiency, Djaq tore off her own sleeve and began fashioning a makeshift tourniquet and bandage.

"We've got to find Marian," Robin told his men, single minded in his urgency. "Djaq, how long before you can get me up and moving again?"

"Robin, I am sorry, but you need to stay off your feet."

"Not until I find my wife," he vowed, in a tone that would stand no argument. "John, Allan, ask around. You know more people than anybody," Robin said to Allan, pleading with his eyes. "See if anyone knows any other place Bruno might be hiding."

"Yeah," Allan agreed, nodding his head. "Couple a guards I'm tight with might know."

"We go, now," Little John urged, trodding heavily behind his smaller, faster friend.

"Robin, what do we do?" Much asked.

Robin didn't care that his command might shock Much. Nothing mattered, while Marian was still missing. He didn't even want to think about Isabella's sly implication that Gisbourne might have returned from France and be behind all this, though the very thought of it made his blood first run cold, and then boil.

"I need you and Will to go to the Cherry Pit," he told a gaping Much, "in case Bruno's shown his face again there."

"The-the WHAT?" Much cried, aghast. "But, Robin, that's a...a..."

"A whore house," Robin completed the words Much couldn't bring himself to say. "I'm sorry. But do it for Marian. Please, Much."

"Of course we'll go," Will assured Robin. "Where exactly in Nottingham is it?"

While Djaq's expert fingers bandaged his wound, Robin was struck by how good and decent his men were. Neither Will nor Much knew where to find the Cherry Pit, and they'd spent most of their lives near Nottingham. Robin guessed Will had never set foot in such a place...Much had only once, in Acre, after Robin had been misinformed that Marian had married, and Legrand had taken him off to one of the cities' notorious brothels, paying to get him drunk and laid. The memory of Much's disappointed, shocked, accusatory face could still make Robin hang his head in shame.

But none of that mattered now. The thought of Marian in danger, perhaps at the vengeful hands of Guy of Gisbourne, was driving Robin mad with worry and despair. He had to find her! Pulling her lock of hair from inside his shirt where he'd placed it over his heart, he kissed it again, pleading silently with God for her safety.

Before he could give Will directions to Gropecunt Street, Allan and Little John returned. "Not bein' funny," Allan eagerly told everyone, "but MacAlaistair swears he knows where Bruno is! The good old Cherry Pit isn't the only place he works. Seems he spends half his time at the Cock and Ass. Oi! I didn't name the place! It's just a couple of farm animals, Much, but judging from the ugly hags workin' there, they oughta call it the Cow and Pig. It's just a couplea doors down from the Cherry Pit."

Robin was already down the hall, hobbling as fast as his bandaged leg could carry him.

"We go, now," Little John said for the second time that afternoon, lumbering after Robin.

"Immediately!" Much agreed.

...

Through the fog of her drug induced state, Marian could tell things were horribly wrong. But somehow, try as she might to summon her will and energy to object, she could only whimper.

"No," she told the heavyset, balding man leering over her. I'm not for sale. Don't touch me. I will kill you.

But the words wouldn't come. "No," was the most she could eek lethargically out.

He reminded her of a wild boar, his eyes small and dark and piglike, his breath wheezing and snorting as he looked lustfully upon her, his flesh reeking, fouling the already putrid air of the bedchamber. A boar spear would be too good for him, yet she felt, unless she could summon the will to resist, she would be the one getting poked, not he.

"You got no right to say no," the man snarled, fumbling with his belt. "I paid in advance for you. I got you for a quarter hour, before the next lucky sot gets his turn, so turn around. The sign out front shows a cock and an ass, and that's what I paid for...my *#* in your-"

Before he could finish, chaos exploded into the room. The door was flung open, and a whirlwind in brown shoved against the man, knocking him to the ground, and began pummeling him with hammering fists.

Marian stood by watching, as if from far away. A vaguely familiar man with tears in his eyes and a round, colorful shield, was holding her arm, keeping her from swaying. "It's alright, Marian," he was saying. "We're here. You're safe."

The whirlwind stood up and stared deeply into her eyes, then hobbled toward her, enfolding her in his strong arms. She knew those eyes, recognized his scent, the very essence of him. His heart pounded against her sluggish one, and she felt him remove her blond wig and brush his lips tenderly against her hair.

"Robin," she breathed, closing her eyes, resting her cheek against his heart.

"Are you alright, my love?" he asked.

She sighed, and heard him say the words she longed to hear.

"Come on," he invited, holding her protectively. "Let's go home."