Chapter 2
Failure in Acre
"Robin!" Robin and Guy heard someone's voice, their eyes still locked. "Stop them!"
The Crusaders stood near the King's Captain and the Saracen assassin, holding unsheathed swords and bows in their arms. The tent was illuminated by the torches brought by the Crusaders. They wore anxious expressions. Everyone stared at Robin and the Saracen. As Robin and the Saracen froze in what looked like an embrace, it wasn't clear who was more seriously wounded.
Guy of Gisborne turned his head, and his eyes widened at the sight of a relatively young, tall Crusader of fair complexion and huge height, with a head full of red-gold hair. His skin was pale, his shoulders – broad and muscular; his posture was regal. He was undeniably handsome. Guy noticed that the man's fingers were covered with many silver and gold jeweled rings. Guy uttered a cry of horror as the realization dawned upon him – the man was King Richard the Lionheart.
Surrounded by his guards, the King of England stood close to Robin and Guy. The Lionheart was unscathed and fully awake; he held a sword up in his right arm. He wore a crimson velvet mantle with a high collar over a white Crusader tunic; obviously, he had just risen from the bed and hastily put on his mantle. Even without his armor, Richard truly looked like a great warrior.
Gisborne had never been so scared in his entire life. He shuddered in fear, his heart seized with mortal terror. In the Holy Land, Vaisey's accomplices told Guy that the mere sight of the Lionheart, the greatest among all warriors and the bravest of all the Christian Kings, mounted on his powerful war horse, was quite enough to make the Turks flee from the battlefield.
Now Richard was not on his horse, but it didn't matter at all because his imposing personality and cold regalness frightened Guy. Guy was ready to flee even at the sight of Richard's unemotional face and hateful, angry eyes that pierced him to the core, to his heart, sending strong waves of dread through his body. Obviously, the King was furious because of the scene of the finished bloody fight in his tent.
Gisborne recognized several people in the crowd that had gathered around the King. One of them was the treacherous Crusader who had helped Guy organize the Saracen attack and had ensured that the raid would be undetected. The traitor showed no sign of recognition what happened in the royal tent. Their eyes met for the shortest instant, and Guy saw only pure loathing in his cold glare. Of course, the crafty and evil man looked at Guy as though he had been the Saracen, the King's potential killer, although he knew very well who Guy was in reality and who had sent him to Acre.
Guy also recognized another young Crusader. He was a young, green-eyed, dark-haired man of an average height; his stern, cold handsomeness was unforgettable. He was the well-known Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester and the Captain of the Second Guard. Robert was the King's second grand favorite, as well as Robin of Locksley's old friend and companion.
Guy was aware of the fact that the Lionheart held Huntingdon and Leicester in high favor. They were the King's grand favorites. Huntingdon and Leicester were the two people who would willingly die the first for King Richard and sacrifice everything they had for the monarch's life.
Sheriff Vaisey's allies had warned Guy that Leicester could have been an exceptionally dangerous enemy if he had met him during the attack. Guy had no doubt that the Earl of Leicester's fighting skills were outstanding: he himself had fought with Robert on a tournament in Normandy, and they had ended in a draw while Guy had usually won. Leicester was deadly with a sword and very good with a bow. His archery skills were not as perfect as Robin's, but he never missed his aim at a medium distance. Unlike Robin, he couldn't kill an enemy with closed eyes.
Guy turned to face his enemy; then he glanced into Robin's eyes. Locksley was silent, his expression pained. Guy noticed that Robin gritted his teeth, trying to repress his groans. Robin's gaze was unfocused, and Guy was sure that Robin wasn't aware they were not alone in the tent.
Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, stared at Robin and the Saracen. His eyes were shooting daggers; he was furious. "Damn Saracens! Damn them!"
"Captain Locksley!" King Richard exclaimed, his voice thick with undeniable anxiety. "Robin!"
Pools of crimson blood were everywhere on the ground. There were many blood traces in the tent, from the King's bed to the corner of the tent, where Robin and the Saracen fell. It was Robin's blood, the symbol of the King's sacred life and its salvation. There was a large pool of the Saracen's blood in the area where Robin had injured his enemy twice.
"Robin! Robin!" Sir James of Kent, the second-in-command to the Captain of the Private Guard, cried out. "Oh, no," he whispered as he saw a pool of blood beneath Robin's body.
Leicester shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't recall when he saw so much blood after a one-to-one combat. "Holy mother of God! So much blood! Whose blood is it?"
"I don't know," James muttered. "I don't want to know." He shook his head in shock.
"It is horrible!" Sir Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford almost choked with words. "Horrible! Have I gone mad or is there really so much blood here?"
"You have not gone mad. There are rivers of blood here," Leicester said tonelessly.
"I hope it is not Robin's blood," Sir Roger of Stoke said.
Aubrey de Vere and Roger of Stoke were King Richard's favorites and entrusted soldiers.
"Oh God! Not Robin!" Sir Legrand de Maulevrier was at loss in shock. He was the fearless Crusader from Normandy, whom Richard kept in high regard.
Robin turned his head and blinked as he saw the King and others. He inclined his head and looked down, on the ground, at a pool of blood that sparkled red in the semi-darkness. He was appalled how much blood he had already lost. He moved his body, trying to crawl from the Saracen, but his strengths were leaving him. With a loud groan, Robin fell to the ground.
The guards examined the tent, and it became clear that the assassin had been seriously wounded by Robin in a fight. The King's life was no longer in danger thanks to Robin of Locksley's bravery.
"Robin defeated the assassin," Sir James of Kent reported.
"Detain him," King Richard said coldly, throwing out his arm in a commanding gesture, his gaze falling for a moment on the assassin. He gave Guy a glance full of rampage and contempt.
"A moment, sire." James bowed to the king, then headed to the assassin.
Next moment, Much entered the King's tent. A cry of horror coursed through the air as he stared at the picture in front of him. "Master! No! No! No!" he screamed.
"Much, don't scream!" Robert, the Earl of Leicester, reprimanded. The situation was too serious and they had to control themselves; they didn't have time to calm down a hysterical man.
Much blinked his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "My Master is wounded… So much blood… He is so skinny to have so much blood in his body…" He looked horror-stricken and terrified.
Much usually controlled his emotions. He was an accomplished warrior and had saved Robin's life many times while on Crusade. The squire killed many Saracens in battles or on Robin's secret missions, like assassinations of Saladin's generals. He had already gotten accustomed to carnage, screams of wounded and dying men, and flame-colored sand soaked with crimson blood – these things were an everlasting part of their lives during the long five years of fighting in Palestine.
But now Much was heartbroken, beyond any grief because his beloved Robin had been injured. His heart drummed against his rib cage and froze in fear at the sight of Robin's motionless body on the ground. He feared that his Master would die today, and he didn't want to lose Robin.
"Restrain him," Richard ordered, his eyes were at Much.
"Much, wait. Make one movement towards Robin, and we will take you away from here," Robert threatened; his arm encircled the squire's waist. "Please stay here," he whispered into his ear.
"I must go to my Master! He needs me!" Much persisted.
"Silence, Much!" Robert raised his voice. "Robin doesn't need you now. He needs a physician, not you."
"But… but… Lord Leicester! My Master… Robin is here!" Much couldn't leave Robin.
"Shut up, Much," Robert thundered. Then he pointed at Much, looking at the guards. "Take him away. Don't let him be here. Not now."
Two guards approached Much and led him away from the tent by force. Outside the King's tent, Much moaned and wept with pain and fright, releasing tension in a flood of tears. He shouted the name of his Master, he wailed, trying to get to the tent again, but the guards held him firmly. Finally, they took pity on Much and released him. Much sank to his knees on the sand, looking around constantly and restlessly. Then Much started sobbing and calling for Robin, but whether his voice remained unheard or unheeded, no reply came from his Master to his frenzied cries.
ææææææ
Sir James of Kent, the second-in-command to the Captain of the Private Guard, ordered to surround and shackle the Saracen assassin. They couldn't risk and allow the enemy to be close to the King of England, especially knowing that Richard would surely want to stay near Robin.
Guy of Gisborne sneered as he heard the King's orders. It was exactly what he had expected. It was his death. Gisborne had been cornered, and there was no way to run away from the Crusaders' camp. He had been injured twice, and the King's soldiers were so close to him. He was on the verge of physical collapse, and he was losing blood. All his strength washed out, and he finally let his large frame drop on the ground. He no longer could remain in a sitting position.
Guy could see Crusaders fussing over unconscious Robin. Several guards approached and surrounded Guy. Now he couldn't see Locksley anymore, but he could hear the King's sharp commands spoken in Norman-French to fetch the royal physician for Robin. Guy was angry that the King was so worried about his favorite; there was nobody who was worried about him because he was among his enemies.
Somebody kneeled to Guy and hastily examined his injuries. The blood surged to Guy's cheeks, and his face turned pale from fear under his Saracen's mask; he was grateful that he wore the inconvenient mask for disguise in the attack. He uttered a low groan at the first touch of calloused hands at his flesh. The guards roughly grabbed him by his shoulders and forced him to stand on his feet. Then the King's men shackled Guy's wrists and ankles. Guy tried to struggle, but he was outnumbered and too weak to resist his captors; he closed his eyes, resigned to his defeat.
Guy of Gisborne had been defeated by Robin of Locksley. He, the masked Saracen, was not only at the King's mercy but also under Locksley's control. Robin was the Head of the Private Guard, and if he had recovered from his injury, he would be responsible for Guy's interrogation and probably even torture. In Acre, Guy had heard that the Private Guard had always cruelly tortured captured assassins; he could imagine Robin's smug face at the sight of Guy's tortured by the King's guards. Guy had handed himself to his sworn enemy, the man whom he hated from the bottom of his heart, and he dreaded the future.
Guy could imagine Vaisey's angry face and could hear the Sheriff's voice insulting his mental abilities and fighting skills. If Vaisey had known what had happened during the Saracen attack, he would have called Guy a pathetic weakling or a good-for-nothing, incompetent idiot. But Guy would have never agreed with the Sheriff of Nottingham as Vaisey had never encountered Robin of Locksley. He had planned the attack very well beforehand, but he had still failed because of Robin's interference.
Guy cursed in his mind that he had agreed to assassinate the King of England and had traveled to the Holy Land. He cursed Vaisey who had chosen him for the mission in the Holy Land. He cursed that he hadn't killed Robin of Locksley when he accidently stumbled into him near the King's tent. He had utterly failed his mission in Acre – he had failed Prince John, the Black Knights, and Vaisey. Even if he had survived and somehow had escaped from the King's camp later, the Black Knights would never trust him again. He had lost his chance to be in Prince John's favor after his capture.
So many things would never happen. If he had killed Robin in the Saracen attack, he would have prospered and would have lived a long, happy life in Locksley. As Robin had never been married and had no surviving sibling, Guy would have become the permanent Lord of Locksley and the only rightful Earl of Huntingdon. Sir Guy of Gisborne, the Earl of Earl of Huntingdon and the Lord of Locksley, sounded amazing – it was exactly what Guy had wanted for himself for so long. He believed that he deserved to be granted Robin's titles and lands after everything what young Robin of Locksley and his father, Malcolm of Locksley, had done to the Gisbornes and personally to Guy.
If he had killed the King, Guy would have been given power and wealth beyond measure. All the Black Knights would have felt in debt to him. Prince John would have been grateful to him, and Guy would have become a royal favorite, like Locksley was King Richard's favorite. Guy would have become King John's most entrusted servant.
If Locksley had died in the attack and Guy had fled from the King's camp, Guy would have been able to marry Lady Marian of Knighton, even if the Lionheart was still alive. Guy liked Marian: she was a beautiful young lady with an old, proud family name and could be a good wife to continue the Gisborne lineage. If he had married Marian, Robin's former betrothed, his revenge on Locksley would have been completed. Guy had been trying to court Marian for more than a year, but she wasn't fond of him. Guy suspected that she had still loved Robin of Locksley, waiting for his return from the war. Locksley's death was important to make Lady Marian more prone to his advances.
But now his dreams and his life had been ruined. All his hopes and dreams had been shattered. It was all Locksley's fault. Robin of Locksley was Guy of Gisborne's angel of death and his tormentor. He attributed all his suffering he had ever endured in his life to Robin. Robin should have died in the Holy Land before Guy had decided to travel there. The King's favorite should have been stabbed by the Saracens, dying on the spot or bleeding to death, and his body should have perished in the desert. But Locksley was alive, and the man's invincibility infuriated Guy.
Gisborne was happy that he had at least wounded Locksley. Guy wished Locksley to die from his grievous wound. If Robin had died, it would have been fair because Guy had killed him and, thus, had avenged the disgrace of the Gisbornes and his own sufferings. In this case, both Locksley and he, Gisborne, would have died in Acre and would have been buried in the desert. The thoughts about Robin's death were the only consolation for Guy.
If Guy had survived, what future would he have? Would he be executed or pardoned by the King of England? Guy knew that the King would probably never pardon him for regicide attempt and an attempted murder of the Captain of the royal guard. Acre and the sand threatened to become Guy's tomb. His finale would be his disgrace and painful death for high treason unless he somehow managed to escape or find another way to save himself by cooperating with King Richard.
The thought that he could betray Prince John and the Black Knights crossed Guy's mind, but it seemed useless. Even if he had cooperated, it would have been unlikely to be pardoned. King Richard was an unforgiving and ruthless monarch, who would also be eminently vengeful because Guy had not only tried to kill him, but also had severely injured the King's grand favorite.
The brave Captain Locksley, obsessed with principles of honor and loyalty, was known to mercilessly persecute the King's would-be assassins and traitors to the Crown. The treacherous Crusader, Vaisey's spy in the camp, had told Guy that Locksley as the Captain of the Private Guard had often presided over trials of traitors and assassins, but Robin had never executed prisoners himself. Guy thought that humanity was Robin's weakness.
Regicide was a grave crime, and Guy expected that Robin would sentence him to the most brutal punishment – to be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Then his corpse would be buried in the desert, in an unmarked grave, or would be burned to ashes. He would appreciate beheading more than hanging, drawing, and quartering, but he doubted that Locksley and all the other Crusaders would be merciful to the man who had attempted regicide and had injured their Captain.
If Locksley survived, he would take his revenge on Guy for his attempt on King Richard's life. Guy could imagine how Robin would announce his sentence at the end of his trial. It would be the most amusing. Guy was a dead man walking, and he began to think that it would have been better if he had died from his wounds; in that case, he wouldn't have been shamed by Robin and all other Crusaders.
Guy opened his eyes and looked at the somber faces of the King's guards. He was being carried somewhere, perhaps to the prison, he mused. The guards were silent and rude with their prisoner; they didn't care that their rough hands hurt Guy's wounds, causing him more pain. Guy moaned in pain at the pressure of their hands on his skin, but they didn't react. The chains caused him great pain. Of course, he couldn't hope for better treatment as he was their enemy.
One of the guards announced that the King had ordered to throw the assassin into the cell. Guy swore an oath in his mind. He was supposed to be imprisoned even in his miserable condition, while Locksley would be treated by the King's personal physician and would rest in a warm, comfortable bed. It was unfair. He hoped that at least he would be attended by the physician, but he wasn't sure of that. On a flip side, they would soon discover that he wasn't the Saracen, and then they would most likely decide to keep him alive in order to interrogate him later. His disguise and deception bought him some time.
Another thought struck Guy: maybe Vaisey's spy in the camp, the treacherous Crusader, would find a way to save him from the King and help him escape. He had seen the man among the Crusaders in the King's tent after all. But the hope was vague, but he still hoped against any hope.
Suddenly, they stopped and entered the building; Guy guessed that it was his prison. The guards opened the door, and they continued their way through a long corridor. Guy believed that soon he would see his new home – a damp cold cell where assassins spent the last moments of their lives before executions. One of the guards shouted to bring bandages and asked to fetch the second physician to the prison. Then Guy heard nothing else as he lost his conscience.
ææææææ
The moon had turned from silver to copper in the dark sky and the stillest hour of the night had come, but nobody slept in the Crusaders' camp after the undetected Saracen attack. After the assassin had been removed from the royal tent, King Richard walked to the place where Robin lay on the ground. Robert, the Earl of Leicester, and Roger of Stoke followed the King. The King knelt to Robin and ran his eyes over Robin's body; Robert and Roger also knelt to their friend.
King Richard sighed sorrowfully, his heart pounding in fear. He didn't remember when he had been so worried before. He feared that Robin would die. The death for the King and England was an honorable and heroic death, but it still was death. Robin was too young to die, and Richard wanted him to live.
"Robin," the King called. His face was unreadable, but the sound of Robin's name was enough to realize that the King was deeply moved by the heartbreaking picture before his eyes.
They sighed with relief because Robin was still in the land of the living. They could see the shallow rise and fall of his chest as Robin was taking shallow and unsteady breaths.
"He is alive," Robert said matter-of-factly.
"Barely alive," Roger underscored.
"He is wounded." Richard lowered eyes and looked at the wound in Robins' side. He could see blood flowing out of Robin's body, and his heart skipped a beat. He had never seen Robin so brutally sliced.
"And grimly." Robert's voice sounded grave.
"He is almost mortally, if not mortally, wounded," Richard declared what everyone feared to say aloud. He turned his gaze to the guards. "Fetch my personal physician here. Hurry up," he urged. Then his gaze flew to Robin. "Hang on, lad. You must live," he said as if Robin could hear him.
Robin's eyes were open, but he didn't hear what the King and the others were talking about.
"Robin, my friend?" Robert uttered.
"Do you hear us?" Roger hoped to see any sign that Robin had been able to see them.
Richard sighed heavily. "He is too weak and in great pain to think clearly."
Indeed, Robin felt as though he had been in a mist. He cast a short glance at the King, then looked between Robert and Roger. He blinked, but his vision was blurred. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. The adrenaline from the fight had evaporated, and so had all his strength. His body was weak, he was dizzy; he couldn't carry on anymore. He closed his eyes, and the darkness claimed him.
"He lost his conscience," Robert commented.
"It is for the better," the King said flatly.
Roger nodded. "At least he is alive."
As they saw the physician enter the tent and hurry to the King, Richard leaped to his feet. He signaled the doctor to approach him and spoke. "Help Robin," he asked impatiently.
Although the guards had tried to restrict Much and keep him outside of the King's tent, they had failed to handle the distraught man. Much had fiercely struggled with them and had managed to escape to the King's tent. As he entered and his gaze focused on Robin, the squire stopped, staring at Robin with tearful eyes. The loyal manservant was only interested in Robin's health.
"Master!" Much shouted, his expression horrified, his heart thundering in his chest
Roger of Stoke came to Much. He grabbed Much's shoulders and gently shook him. "Much, stop it right now. If you want to be here, then calm down. Be quiet and wait."
"I'm sorry. I…" Much stammered.
Roger's eyes met the King's. "Sire, should the guards take Much away?"
"No, it is not necessary." Richard shook his head in denial. "If he wants to be here, let him stay. He will just fight with the guards and run here again." His gaze slid to Robin's manservant. "Much, don't panic and make noise. Otherwise, you will be sorry," he said, his tone not so quite dulcet.
Much gave a slight nod. "Sire, I beg my pardon. Thank you for letting me stay here, with my Master."
The King smiled slightly. "Welcome."
"Better help us, Much," Robert offered.
"But, Much, please don't fuss," Roger warned.
One of the tables in the royal tent was empty, and King Richard ordered to take Robin there. Raoul de Déols, King Richard's personal physician, stood near the King, staring at his patient. Raoul was a tall French man of forty years old, who carried off his handsome velvet suit with assurance, and his admirable roman profile was marred by a single imperfection – a slight gap between his front teeth.
"Be careful when you carry him," the physician recommended.
"We are very gentle with Robin," Robert assured him. "We must find where the wound is."
"Remove the clothes from the upper part of his body," the physician requested.
The Earl of Leicester, Sir James of Kent, and Sir Roger of Stoke peeled off the layers of Robin's tunic from his upper body. The tunic was drenched with blood that had also soaked into the carpet on the ground. Sir Aubrey de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, and Sir Legrand de Maulevrier were also inside the tent, staring at the prone form of their Captain with worried eyes.
"Master," Much whispered to himself. He stood near the table, doing his best not to control himself, fighting back tears.
Raoul, Robert, and James examined Robin, trying to find where the King's savior had been injured. As soon as Robert raised Robin's left arm, the brutally torn flesh on Robin's left side came into view. The raw wound looked fatal and deep; it was clear why Robin was losing blood.
"Captain Locksley is seriously injured on his left side," Raoul declared.
Much's eyes betrayed his fear, his knees and hands were shaking. He had never seen Robin so weak and so vulnerable. "Is my Master's injury dangerous?" His voice was cracking.
The physician nodded. "Yes, it is. Very dangerous."
King Richard sighed heavily before he spoke. "Can you save him?"
"I'm not sure that Captain Locksley will pull through," the physician opined with ingenuous frankness. "The wound can be fatal – at least it looks almost fatal." He sighed. "Now we have to cauterize the wound. He may not survive the process, but it must be done."
"Then do that," Richard said neutrally.
"Save him," Robert, James, Roger, Aubrey, and Legrand said together.
"I will do what I can," Raoul pledged as his gaze shifted from the King to the other men. "I will need a clean knife, hot fire, a bowl of fresh water, and many bandages."
James, Roger, and Aubrey hurried to the medical tent where they could find a dagger and other tools. Much brought a bowl of water and placed it on the table; then he lit many candles in the tent, and followed all the instructions as they were preparing Robin for the excruciating procedure.
The groan tumbled from Robin's lips, his eyes half opened. All the eyes were attached to Robin.
"Robin?" Aubrey, the Earl of Oxford, called.
"Master…" Much smiled, but his smile vanished as he heard another groan.
"It seems that he awoke," Legrand noticed.
"He is better to be unconscious during the procedure," Raoul said with a sigh.
"King Richard," Robin murmured, wishing to learn about the King's fate.
The words were spoken loud enough to understand the meaning. Driven by a desire to talk to Robin, Much took a step forward, but Roger of Stoke gripped Much's forearm, preventing him from leaving.
"Robin wants to see the King," Roger pointed out. "Wait here, Much."
Much blushed. "I won't go there. It is just…" Much broke off abruptly.
Roger patted Much again upon the shoulder as he said, "I know what you mean."
"Robin wants to know whether the King is safe," Much assumed.
"Yes," Robert agreed.
Roger nodded. "He always put the King before everyone else in his life."
"I know." Much was jealous of Robin and the King because he loved Robin most of all in his life.
King Richard approached the table where Robin lay. He took the knight's right hand in his, then leaned down to the soldier. "Do you hear us, Robin?"
"My liege," Robin drawled; his eyes were foggy.
The King smiled warmly. "We owe you our life, Captain Locksley. England owes you more. You saved our life many times. We are in huge debt to you."
The golden-haired regal head was inches away from Robin's, and Robin recognized the King. Relief washed over him that Richard was alive. "Milord, you have no debt to me. Are you alright?"
"I'm unscratched," the King answered, dropping the royal etiquette. "You will also be well."
"My life doesn't matter if you are safe," Robin choked out.
"Oh, Robin, my dear Robin." Richard squeezed his hand in affection. It was both pleasant and painful for the King to hear that Robin, who suffered from pain and was still bleeding, cared for his King's safety so much. The Lionheart was outraged that the assassin had hurt his favorite knight so badly.
"The assassin has a wolf's head tattoo on his right forearm," Robin whispered.
The King stroked Robin's sandy hair. "You wounded him twice in a fight."
"I remember." Robin hardly had any strength to keep his eyes open and even to talk. His left side was like an open bleeding wound, and his heart was beating so fast that he feared it could explode in his chest. But there was something he needed to tell the King. "The assassin has steel blue eyes. There was so much hatred in his cold gaze when our eyes met. He may not be the Saracen."
"The Saracens hate the Christians, and he hated you because you defeated him."
Robin swallowed hard. "His skin… is so pale as though he had just arrived in the Holy Land."
Richard frowned. "Did you see that well?"
"Yes, I did." Robin coughed and winced in pain. "There was something strange in him. Unmask this assassin, sire; you need to check who he is."
Richard heard the knight's quiet words only because his face was close to Robin's. Confused, he shook his head; he was unsure what to answer. "We will do that."
Robin believed that he was on the threshold of death. He had never felt so terrible before. Every movement and every breath hurt him, and throbbing pain ripped across his body. His left side was burning with fire, and the blood in his veins was boiling. He guessed that infection was spreading in his body, and his time was probably running out. He wouldn't live for long, he mused.
"Much… I love him. He is my best friend," Robin murmured. "Sire, I have no heirs. I beg you to transfer some of my estates to Much if I die soon. He deserves a reward from me. It is my last wish."
"Robin, we will do that if you wish that – you have my word. But we won't need to do that because you will survive." Richard didn't know what else to say.
Robin chuckled; he didn't share the King's false optimism. "I'm not a fool, sire."
"Robin, you will be alright."
"I have another request," the young Captain whispered. "If I die from my wound, please send my body… to England. I want to be buried in Locksley, in the family graveyard." His voice was cracking.
"Don't speak about death. You will live," Richard said steadily.
There was a faint smile on Robin's lips. "We… cannot control… death, milord." A quiet groan erupted from his lips. "If I die, then I die a happy man… There is nothing… better than a death for your King."
The King's heart collapsed in his chest. He stroked Robin's hair, smoothing it off the soldier's forehead. His other hand held Robin's hand. "Thank you for everything, Robin."
Robin blinked. "If I die, she won't know that I still… love her…" He swallowed hard. "Marian… Marian…"
"She will know, Robin." The King remembered what Robin had once told him about Lady Marian, his former betrothed, who had broken the engagement when he had decided to join the Crusade. It was an overdramatic moment for King Richard, a great warrior with a heart hardened in many wars. Richard wanted Robin to recover, feeling grateful to him for everything he had ever done for him. He thought to send a messenger to Lady Marian even if Robin had survived.
"Marian," Robin whispered to himself. His last coherent thought was about the woman he had abandoned five years ago. He didn't hear the King's words. A dizzying and acute lightheadedness had entirely overcome him. He couldn't think and talk anymore. He shut his eyes and passed out.
The King sighed and stepped aside. At the same time, Aubrey, Roger, and James returned to the tent. Now they were ready to perform the brutal procedure to save Robin's life.
"You have to hold Sir Robin because he may have pain shock and body convulsions," the doctor said. He was holding a dagger in his hand, which had already been heated up.
"Save him," King Richard demanded. Then he spun on his heel and walked quickly away; then he left the tent with two guards, who waited near the entrance.
Robert, James, Roger, and Legrand held Robin during cauterization. Roger and Legrand fixed and held Robin's legs, while James and Robert held Robin's shoulders. Much took Robin's right arm and squeezed it, offering as much support as he could to his Master. Robert took Robin's left hand, also trying to give some comfort to his best friend. All the others somberly observed.
At the touch of the heated dagger at the wound, Robin gave a howl of pain, and his body shook in agonizing convulsions. His hands were shaking as he squeezed Much and Robert's hands. They had to force a piece of wood wrapped in cloth into his mouth to prevent him from biting his own tongue. Robin writhed in uncontrollable pain as the doctor performed cauterization. Unfortunately, they had to do cauterization twice as after the first time slight bleeding continued.
As Doctor Raoul de Déols cauterized the broken blood vessels in the surface of the torn flesh, bleeding finally stopped. The physician cleaned the wound with salt water mixed with garlic to prevent infection from spreading in Robin's body. Robin was still held by the Crusaders during the time when the physician tended to his injury. Stitching took two hours as the doctor was very accurate and gentle, trying not to cause his patient more pain. When they finished stitching Robin's wound, the dawn was already unfolding out of the darkness.
In this chapter, the physician is taking care of Robin. Robin is barely alive, but he is clinging to life. Guy is imprisoned at the King's order, and soon the physician will come to him too.
Will Robin and Guy survive? Or will one of them die? You will have an answer in the next chapter.
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