In spite of the urgency of his errand, Robin couldn't help but be thrilled by the exhileration of his midnight ride on Achilles' bare back. With no reins to guide him, Achilles followed his rider's unspoken commands perfectly.
The speed of his mount caused Robin to grip the horse's mane at times, but mostly he managed to keep his seat by moving as one with his steed. The danger and challenge of the ride excited him, but he didn't account for the more threatening danger that lay ahead.
As he came over the rise of a hill, his startled eyes were met by a row of archers standing ready to meet him...all twenty-four of Gisbourne's guards, not to mention Gisbourne himself, as well as Sheriff Vaisey. Gisbourne and Vaisey sat upon their horses, pleased by the success of the sheriff's little trap.
Without a saddle or reins, Robin couldn't stop Achilles or turn him around to head in a different direction. He felt his best course of action was to continue riding at the tremendous pace he had set, and pray he could ride straight through the archers. He'd done it before...when he was escaping Nottingham the day he had become an outlaw, as well as in battle in the Holy Land. Giving a cry to encourage his horse, he boldly rode forward.
The archers were alarmed, and frightened. The last thing they wanted was to be trampled to death. The sheriff and Gisbourne watched closely...nervously, hoping against hope they would finally succeed in capturing Hood.
Arrows were loosed, but seemed to bounce off Robin. One lucky shot missed its mark, but brought the horse down instead.
Achilles was not killed, nor permanently lamed, but an arrow had lodged in his left flank, and the horse buckled to the ground, causing Robin to spill and roll, until he stopped right at the feet of Guy of Gisbourne's magnificent black mount.
"Well done!" Sheriff Vaisey crowed in delight. "Gisbourne, find your man who shot that arrow. He's a hero!"
Robin's fall had been hard, and he was woozy from having hit his head more than once. His only concern was for his horse.
"Achilles," he breathed, panting hard. "Is my horse alright?"
"Your horse, Hood?" The sheriff made little clicking noises with his tongue. "Now, that's where you've gone wrong, Hood. You seem to be under the mistaken impression that everything belongs to you!" He altered his voice in mockery. " 'Mine! Mine! Mine!' A clue...no."
Climbing down from his white horse, he carefully stepped upon the back of a guard who was acting as a human stepping stool, then approached Robin. Seeing him lying prone, so obviously faint and dizzy, the sheriff cried, "Oh, this is good! This is good! Gisbourne, would you care to do the honors, hmm?"
Sir Guy of Gisbourne leaped from his horse's back, gathered rope from one of his men, and strode toward Robin. "My, my, Hood," he gloated, looking down at Robin with avid malice in his eyes, "did you really think you could steal my horse and get away with it?" Using the rope as a whip, he beat Robin's face with it, raising an instant welt to his cheek.
"Very good, Gisbourne!" Vaisey approved. "Now, shall we escort Locksley to his new home, hmm? At least, it will be his home for his few final days. After all, Locksley Manor isn't your home any longer, Hood, despite the little visit you just paid it. And how did you find things in your former happy hovel, hmm, Hood? A bit on the nauseating side?" He laughed. "Gisbourne! You must have a word with your cook! It won't do to feed the servants tainted food now, would it, hmm? After all, who will do the work when all the help is dead?"
"Poison?" Robin asked with disgust.
"Of a sort," Vaisey bragged. "Food poisoning...most effective! All it takes is some meat left out in the sun to spoil, a few spices from the East to cover up the taste, and soon, you have everyone going on a most effective diet!" He laughed, pleased with this night of nights.
Suddenly Gisbourne was standing over Robin, demanding his men to lift and bind him. "Hold him," he ordered, his voice ringing with hatred. "Take his weapons. And whatever you do, do not let him escape!"
Robin carried nothing but his hunting knife. One of Gisbourne's men seized it, and handed it to his master. "I ought to slice your throat right now with this, Hood," Gisbourne sneered.
The sheriff waited. No clever retort came back. Hood really was woozy. Too bad. Vaisey so enjoyed using words to spar with the handsome outlaw. Well, there would be time enough for that later. The sheriff wanted to keep Hood in the dungeon for several days to play with him before finally doing away with him once and for all.
Robin was pulled roughly to his feet, his wrists bound with thick cords. The other end of the rope was tied to Gisbourne's saddle.
"I think you know how this goes, Hood," Vaisey replied smugly. "You've done this before. Gisbourne! Lead the prisoner to Nottingham!"
Gisbourne proudly climbed aboard his horse and touched spurs to sides. The horse lunged forward, causing Robin to fall and be dragged for several feet, before regaining his balance and pulling himself to a standing position.
"Oh, this is good! This is good!" Vaisey remarked, watching Robin's retreating form, his eyes glued to the outlaw's tight little dusty backside.