Robin ignored Much's approach, and tried to ignore his friend's greeting, but Much wasn't having it. He settled beside the archer, his face grim. "Master?" It was the one thing guaranteed to get Robin's attention. He hadn't called the man his master for a long time.
"You're a free man, Much, you call no man master," Robin replied absently with the ease of long friendship. "What's on your mind?" There had to be something to bring him up here when it was obvious Robin wanted some privacy.
"She wouldn't want this for you, you know," Much said quietly as he followed Robin's gaze. "She'd hate the idea that you're pining for her. And she wouldn't want you to die just to follow her."
"Much!" Robin swiveled to regard his friend with some consternation. "What makes you think I'd die? The Sheriff and Gisborne, they're not that good." He wore his customary smirk, but suddenly he realized he wasn't fooling Much. His friend had been beside him for a very, very long time. He knew Robin's moods as well as he himself did and often knew what Robin was thinking. No, he wasn't fooling Much. "I don't want to die." Stubborn to the end, that was him; and he'd keep denying it. Maybe if he kept denying it long enough he'd believe it.
"Then stop taking such foolish risks." Much's voice held a note of strength Robin wasn't used to hearing from him. "Risking the pickets at Nottingham was sheer idiocy. And if Gisborne hadn't helped Tom, we'd never have gotten her out without losing some of us. It was a stupid plan in the first place, and she's the first to say so. But you went along with it." He shook his head. "I'm your friend, Robin, and always will be. But I need you to help me, and you can't do that if you're dead. Please." He shook his head. "Don't do this. We need you. ~I~ need you. I've few enough friends in this world, don't make that number smaller."
"I'm not going to die, Much." But Robin gave a sigh of resignation, just the same. "I promise not to do anything any more foolish than normal. Is that enough to keep you quiet?" But the rebuke was tempered with a small smile, a genuine one this time.
"As long as you're not actively seeking death, I suppose," Much replied with a long-suffering air. "But this discussion isn't over, either. I'll be watching, and I imagine the others will be, as well. They're all afraid for you, too."
"Then let's stop talking about it for now. I gave you my promise. That's going to have to be enough." And it would be, Robin realized. His word was important to him; he'd never break it. So, time to stop being more foolish than normal and work out some new plans. "We were in Locksley this morning; there was nothing happening. We need to go to Nottingham, we need to find a way to get hold of more of the Sheriff's gold."
"Let's talk about something else, first. Did you notice something different in Locksley this morning?" Much had to voice it. He'd been shocked, especially since Gisborne was actually THERE at the time.
Robin considered for a moment. "The people were less frightened," he said slowly as he replayed the visit in his mind.
"Notice the children? They were actually playing." Much looked out into the forest. "I talked to a few of the women. Gisborne's changed things. He's not made life any easier, but he's stopped with a lot of the punishments. If you're sick, I mean really sick, you don't have to work. New mothers have a few days to care for the babes. It's – well, it isn't like him at all, really. He's being kind."
Robin didn't want to face what that might mean. The knight had been so cruel for so long... that he might change now, it just didn't make sense to him. "He's not following the Sheriff's laws?"
"Yes, he is. But you know the lord of the manor can decide which punishment to use for minor crimes. Crimes such as not working. And Gisborne's – well, he hasn't gone soft, not really, but he's eased the punishments. They don't have to worry about being turned out for being ill. As long as they pay their taxes, they give their tribute to Gisborne, he's letting them alone." Much was still shocked at the thought. "But he's not going against the Sheriff, either. If the tax man comes and they can't pay, he puts them out. He lets things seem to stand while Vaizey's around, and then things ease up again."
"He's playing a very dangerous game, if that's what he's up to," Robin said succinctly. "I think I need to have a talk with Tom's husband, at that."
(a bit later)
It was a simple matter to wait until dark and slip into the manor at Locksley. Robin had been doing it since he was a child, it was easy to remember how to do it unseen and he did so.
He crept across the floor, silent as the grave, and stood looking at his enemy for a moment, one hand on his knife, wondering if he should just kill the man while he slept. It would be easy to do. One swift, sure strike across the throat would let them rest, would allow Tom peace. But he couldn't do it. He wasn't a murderer or assassin.
That decided, Robin sank into a chair near the bed and kept watch for a moment. What was it about this man? He had been a menace for so long, was it so unbelievable that he could change?
As he watched, Gisborne thrashed in the grip of some nightmare. His face was tortured, full of grief and guilt. He moaned, a lost, despairing sound, and Robin decided he'd heard enough. He stepped away several paces where the knight couldn't reach him if he woke up ugly and used the fireplace poker to shove at his leg.
Gisborne woke with a shout and a thrown dagger and Robin barely dodged it. "Easy, now!" he growled from his new perch on the end of the bed. His hand was on his own knife. "I'm here to talk, nothing more," he growled.
"Then talk," Gisborne snapped as he ran his hands through his hair and settled back against the headboard, watching the outlaw carefully. He had another dagger if it came down to it and he didn't trust Hood.
"Why are you treating these people differently?" Robin demanded. It wasn't how he'd meant the question to come out, but no matter. Blunt was probably better. "You're being kind, Gisborne, and that isn't like you."
Guy shrugged. "You wouldn't understand," he said quietly. He wasn't sure HE understood. But Marian haunted him, he dreamed of her, of her death, he dreamed of her coming to him to change, to be a better man. All the things she had done in her life, as the Nightwatchman, she had done to make things better; and now she came to him in his dreams, demanding he change, that he atone for killing her. It was the only way he felt any lessening of the guilt for her death, was in changing his cruelty for if not kindness then at least not viciousness.
"Try me." Robin was marginally encouraged. The knight hadn't attacked him out of hand, hadn't demanded his departure. It was a start. And there was something in his face, something fearful. That he hadn't expected.
Guy had to swallow twice before he could say it out loud. "Marian." He was hoping that would explain everything.
"You killed her!" Everything Robin had been holding back came to the fore with those simple words. His anger, his fury at losing her to this man's hand, his devastation at her death, his desire to join her in death, everything came crashing in on him and he snarled wordless threats at the other man.
"I know." Quiet, hopeless words. "You don't know what I would do to take that back. To hear her laugh, see her smile, even when they weren't for me her smiles were beautiful. But she was never mine." His words carried a bitter tinge. "She was the love of my life but she was never mine." He glared over at Robin as though finally registering his presence. "She was always yours."
Robin said nothing. Gisborne's pain resonated with his own and he didn't want to accept that. They had both loved Marian, both of them, and her death had nearly destroyed them both. Just the same, Robin didn't want to accept the knight's pain. He wanted to keep him at arm's length, keep him firmly labeled as the enemy. Unfortunately, it wasn't working.
"She haunts me," Gisborne was saying and Robin's unease deepened. If he could make this man his ally – no! What was he thinking? He couldn't be trusted! Ruthlessly he drew his attention back to the other's words. "She is in my thoughts, my dreams. She rails against injustice, and she condemns my plots to gain power. The only time she is silent is when I do something she would consider 'right.'" He shook his head.
Robin thought for a moment. "She's become your conscience," he said slowly. There were worse things that could happen; if Gisborne could be counted an ally – no. No, he couldn't be trusted.
Guy nodded. "These people... I never truly understood they WERE people, I don't think. Peasants, cattle, they were much the same to me. She taught me otherwise." He rose and went to the fireplace, stirring up the embers a bit to add a little more wood. His back was completely unprotected and for a moment Robin considered knifing it, but this was too informative. "That I have hurt so many people – I surely have a place reserved in hell. But at least in this life I can try to atone for those mistakes."
Robin couldn't speak for several moments. Gisborne seemed so sincere, so driven; but could he be trusted? "You used to enjoy the sounds people made while they were punished," he said slowly. "Or at least, you seemed to."
Gisborne shrugged, still not looking at him. "You'll believe what you will," he replied evenly. "But believe this, if nothing else. I bear you no further ill will. I must keep up appearances, but I mean no harm to you or any of your gang. I will help you if I can."
"You'll help us." THAT Robin just couldn't believe. "What of Tom, then?" he demanded suddenly. "You've hurt her badly."
"That was never my intent, even at the start," Gisborne said with some heat. "I believed what I was told, and for that I'm sorry. I would make things right if I could, but she wouldn't come back, even if she were free to do so. I hurt her too badly for that." He shook his head and sank into the chair, watching the flames, seemingly oblivious to Robin's presence save that he was still conversing. "But I will try to make it right, nonetheless."
"If you really mean to help us, help these people," Robin said quickly. "Help them have enough to eat. Don't punish them for stupid reasons. And when the taxes come due, be reasonable."
"I'll do all I can," the knight promised. "But I must go carefully; the dungeon waits if I make a mistake. I'll send word when I can if there's news you should hear. That's the best I can offer."
Robin nodded and suddenly offered his hand to the other man. For all he wanted not to believe, for all he wanted still to mistrust, he couldn't. There was too much pain in the knight's eyes, too much self-loathing for him to ignore. He meant what he was saying. "For Marian," he said quietly.
Gisborne took it and then cocked his head. "Nearly dawn," he murmured with a jerk of his head toward the window. "If you're caught here, I'll have to arrest you. Go."
Robin gave him a cheeky grin. "You could try," he scoffed good-naturedly as he dropped from the window. He melted into the darkness just before dawn with a lot on his mind.