Chapter 5

The First Meeting

As the enormous iron door of his cell was closed, Guy of Gisborne felt mortal terror fill his soul, and suddenly another idea took possession of his mind, so used to misfortune. Rage overcame him; he was angry, very angry with Vaisey whom he blamed for his misfortunes, for it was the Sheriff who had sent him to the Holy Land on the mission to kill the King.

Guy uttered blasphemies in French that made two guards, who watched him inside his cell, recoil with horror. He dashed himself furiously against the walls of his prison, tried to break from his chains. He wreaked his anger upon everything, and soon the least thing – a grain of sand, some straw, or a wooden bench near his mattress – led to paroxysms of fury.

The guards had to calm the prisoner, and then they fetched the doctor. They held Guy tightly as the physician gave him a calming draught to prevent him from being too agitated and out of sorts, to avoid hurting himself. Soon, Guy drifted off to sleep, in a sitting position, hugging his knees, his head leaning down the wall, his long legs stretched along the stone floor. He didn't like sleeping on the straw and was able to sit on the floor or on the mattress thanks to his improving condition.

The night gradually drew on. Gisborne finally awoke with a beating heart, looking around his cell. There was almost no light, and his eyes searched for something in the darkness, looking in vain for someone. His mind registered the thought that he was alone in the cell, which was unusual as two guards always stayed with him. In silence, he vainly listened for the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor. He heard someone pause near the door and unlock it, and the clatter of iron locks alarmed him more than the absence of the night guards.

Sir James of Kent stepped from the darkness into the cell. "Gisborne?"

Guy felt his heart beating faster because Vaisey's spy came to him. "Sir James?"

James lit a candle and crouched to better see the prisoner. They looked at one another for a moment, on James's side with a sort of bored indifference and on Guy's side with a choking misery.

James sighed. "I bring no good news."

"Then why did you come?"

"I want to know why you didn't flee on time. Do you realize what is going to happen to you?"

The prisoner's reply was a faint shrug and a mirthless laugh. "An idiotic situation, isn't that what you mean?"

James looked angry. "The raid on the camp has not only been failed but also has done many people no good! What did you hope to gain by letting them capture you?" He sneered. "Did you hope to overpower Robin in a fight? Or did you want to be captured and befriend the King?"

"I didn't plan to be captured and defeated."

"I agreed to make half of the night guard disappear from their posts, which only I could do. I did everything to make this raid successful and help you kill the King, but you, Gisborne, failed because of a stupid thing. And now you are the most dangerous prisoner in the Holy Land."

Guy laughed quietly. "You call a fight with Robin of Locksley a stupid thing, don't you?"

"Fool!"

"I know," Guy snapped irritably.

"I told you that it is extremely difficult to overpower Robin in a fight. I warned you that Robin is an exceptionally skilled swordsman, but you laughed into my face and said that Robin is a braggart whose light complexion makes him unable to defeat a man as strong as you are."

"I underestimated Locksley."

James drew a deep breath, seething with anger and barely keeping his voice steady. "I told you to attack the camp, but I didn't want you to attack Robin from the back. I never asked you to kill Robin." He looked down at the prisoner with a sad smile. "You injured Robin from the back, but he, weak and bleeding, saved the King and became the true hero of the day."

"He is not a hero," Guy spat.

"Robin is a hero because the King is still alive only thanks to him!" James shot back. "And you are only the villain who is ironically known as the masked Saracen among our men."

The news came as a shock to Guy who had hoped for the death of Locksley. "So Locksley is not dead, is he?" he forced the words to come out.

"Robin is alive," James replied unpleasantly. "But he is still feverish, and… and we don't know how long his delirium will continue."

Guy's heart was pierced by the utterance of the truth that he hadn't finished off Robin of Locksley. "That's a great pity. I hoped that he would die."

James frowned. "I don't know why you hate Robin, but I have heard about your fever dreams. Legrand and other men are talking. Everyone wonders why you hate their Captain." His face lit by a faint smile at thought of Robin. "I have never wanted to see Robin so badly injured. I have always liked him; I asked you not to murder him in the raid."

"You are right that I planned to kill Locksley on that night, Sir James."

"Don't say my name aloud. Don't you dare tell them that I helped you and Vaisey to organize the raid on the King's camp!" The spy's voice was shaking with fear.

With a painful effort, Guy managed to raise himself on the mattress, trying to measure the distance between Vaisey's spy and himself. The movement brought fresh stabs of pain to his injury and he uttered an involuntary groan of pain. "And if I do that, what will happen?"

"They won't believe you," James said confidently, but his tone didn't convince even himself.

"They will be interested if I confess that Prince John has hired me to kill the King and that you, the second-in-command to the Head of the King's Private Guard, are a traitor who spied on them for more than a year by now," Guy parried.

James began walking slowly back and forth across the dungeon, partly as a cure for impatience and partly to calm his nerves. But all at once he stopped dead, his eyes glittering with danger. "I don't recommend that you make me your enemy," he hissed. "I can simply organize killing you in this cell, but I want to help you and myself."

Guy raised a quizzical brow. "How can you help me? Do you have a plan of escape?"

James shook his head in denial. "No, no. There is no way from here. You are guarded like one hundred most dangerous prisoners. I can do nothing. I could only organize that I have ten minutes to come to you today while all the guards are at the meeting with the King.

"Then you can do nothing."

"There is the way," James countered. "We have to switch sides. Now."

The steel blue eyes widened in amazement. "What? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I'm not."

"But your words speak otherwise."

"I'm speaking the plain truth. Now our only chance to survive is to cooperate with King Richard," James declared. He trailed off and again began pacing the cell, and Guy noticed the man's stiff and tense posture in the distant gleam of the burning candle. "This is only your fault that you were captured. You should have left Robin in the King's tent and run away. You shouldn't have tried to kill him when he appeared in the King's tent and saved Richard."

That was undeniable that Guy should have escaped, but he hadn't done that.

Guy lowered his head. "Yes, I did want to kill Locksley in the King's tent. I wanted it with all my heart. You cannot imagine how much I wanted him to die, to pay for everything he did to me."

James let out a laugh. "But Robin wounded you."

"Yes, damned Locksley," Guy growled between his teeth.

"And he did his job pretty well. You almost died, Gisborne."

"My condition was so bad?" Guy felt his heart thudding anxiously.

"You were very bad. If not for our qualified physician, you would be dead now."

"Perhaps it would be better if I died," Guy muttered, taking his head into his hands.

James abruptly sank to his knees and grabbed Guy's shoulders. "Listen to me, Gisborne. They will interrogate you again, and you must continue keeping silent until Robin comes to you." There was a touch of solemnity in his tone. "He will come if he awakes, and I pray that he survives because I like Robin very much, though you have the opposite opinion."

Guy raised his head, and their eyes locked. "Locksley is my mortal enemy."

The King's man shook his head in disbelief. "You don't know Robin."

"I have known him since his childhood. He–"

James interrupted him. "I don't care what you think of Robin. He is a good man, a rare man." His lips thinned. "And I'm very angry with you that you attacked Robin."

"I don't care what you think."

"You should care. I'm the only man who can help you," James said confidently. "And you will do as I say. You will say nothing until Robin comes to you… And he will come and soon."

Guy scoffed. "Why? Locksley hates traitors."

"Even though he hates traitors and may hate you, Robin is a very human man. He is a good man, and he will listen to your story. If you switch sides and agree to help him, he will collaborate with you to save the King whom he dearly loves," James explained flatly.

"Nonsense! Could you truly believe that such a thing is possible that Locksley will help me, his sworn enemy?" There was a somewhat ironic smile on the prisoner's lips.

"Robin will help even the foulest traitor if the said traitor can help make the King's life safer."

"Locksley is besotted by the King," Guy said disdainfully.

Sir James of Kent rose to his feet. "I'm running out of time. I have to go. Take care, Gisborne." He sighed. "Remember what I told you. This is our only chance."

James left the cell, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. Soon the night guards returned to the dungeon, and Guy pretended to be asleep. He half opened his eyes and saw a glimpse of the guards who stood with their swords down like flashes of lightning, scarcely perceptible, for the darkness was great and the small candle they had lit on the table in the corner was not enough to illuminate the cell.

Guy mused what he should do next, but it didn't seem very clear. He didn't know what to do, for James' advice confused him. The idea of cooperating with Robin was outrageous! But he wouldn't beg Robin for help! He would rather die than allow others to humiliate him ignominiously. He shut his eyes, and soon sleep stole over him, giving him temporary oblivion from his deadly situation.

ææææææ

The fever continued ravaging Robin's body for another week, and the King's personal physician only shrugged helplessly, saying that they shouldn't hope to ever see Robin awake. But Robin was not dead, and he was fighting for his life tooth and nale.

Robin was in a strange, almost trancelike sleep that left him unconscious of his surroundings and yet not entirely losing the fleeting glimpse of reality. He often heard voices speaking hurriedly nearby, and he thought that he recognized the Earl of Leicester's calm voice, Much's desperate and high-pitched tones, sounding very much alarmed, and the King's steady baritone, each of these voices alternating with the deep voice of the phantom.

Robin was slipping in and out of consciousness, muttering something under his breath and calling Marian, his hands roaming over his own body and the silk sheet that was soaked with sweat. Through the thick fog, Robin heard the voice in the back of his head. The voice was low and toneless and infinitely sad, but encouraging him that he couldn't die before he saw.

Through a fog that clouded his mind, Robin heard a young woman crying desperately, and the harder his heart hammered, the clearer he realized that it was Marian weeping for him due to his death in the Holy Land, mourning for him. And then the same voice in the back of his head said that it was not his time to die, that he couldn't die in his tragic loneliness that had followed him to the very edge of the world, to Acre, since the day when he had left England so long ago.

Robin's eyes filled with tears. "Marian, Marian," he whispered to himself.

Robin shifted on the bed. He knew that he must break out of the lethal fog and find his path in the right direction, to the light instead of the darkness that had enveloped him so many days ago. With the violent effort of will, Robin managed to open the dragging curtain of his heavy eyelids.

The first thing he became aware of was a nagging pain in his left side. The next was the warm and comfortable surface of the bed beneath his body, and then the realization that he was alive and lay in his own tent. He shut his eyes and opened them again, only to close them immediately as the sunlight sent a knife blade of pain ricocheting through his head.

He stretched his limbs, and then furrowed his brows, cringing in disgust from the stickiness of his body and the sheet, which were damp from cold sweat. His brow was streaming with perspiration, and he wondered whether he was still suffering from his fever at that instant. He took the sheet and threw it away from his chest, the sensation of being less wet and warmer pleasant and reassuring.

Robin turned his head and saw his manservant sleeping in the chair near his bed. He smiled, feeling content, and started struggling into a sitting position, but his strengths deserted him and he sank back onto the soft pillows. His chest wasn't covered, and he could see the bandage above his grievous wound. It was very light and warm in the tent, but he found that he was shivering, with fear mingled with an excitement that he was alive and that Much was near him.

Shuddering and weak, Robin strained to hear anything unusual. But he could hear nothing strange, apart from the sound of Much's snores. His mind was grappling with the unsettling knowledge that he had been injured near the King's tent and then had fought with the Saracen whom he had almost dragged from his liege's bed. He had vague memories of what had happened to him, the reality was mixed with strange fever dreams, and he could not say what was real.

Robin was at first surprised and then appalled to realize that he was so lean and that his hair was so unkempt, his fingernails red with blood, but he warded off the urge to rise and make himself presentable. After all, he had awakened only recently. He cheated death once again, and he was anxious to learn about the fate of the assassin whom he had wounded in the fight.

After a while, he eased himself off the bed and straightened to his full height without a sound. He reached out for the chair, where his bow and sheathed sword were. He leaned down and unsheathed the scimitar, then put the empty scabbard on the chair, and then held the shining blade vertically to reflect the sunlight. As he did so, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him.

"Master Robin!" Much called, his voice cracking, his features anxious and sleepy. His big blue eyes fixed on his master's face, and he let out a shaky breath. "You awoke! Oh, Thanks to God! Thanks to God! We have been worried sick about you – we feared that you would die."

Robin gave him a crooked smile. "I'm not dead. I was not going to die," he assured.

"But you gave us a good reason to believe that you would die."

"And I'm sorry for that." Robin sheathed his scimitar and threw it on the ground.

"I know you can say that I'm fussing, but you don't understand how worried I was," Much prattled. "The King was beyond grief. Everyone was worried. With every day passing, we grew frightened that you would never awake." He smiled brightly. "And now you are up!"

"I will not die," Robin assured him, with a sardonic glance in his servant's direction.

Much glanced at him, a frown marring his forehead. "Master, you don't understand what we lived through when you were dying. Why did you get up? You cannot be up! You are still weak!"

Robin shook his head in disagreement. "I'm alright, Much."

Much looked very concerned. He came to Robin and wrapped his arm around his master's shoulder for support. "I will help you return to bed. You will have to rest at least for a week more."

"I will do that only on condition that you will help me shave and look presentable. I need a bath," Robin agreed dismally.

"I will do everything for you, Master! I will!"

"I know, Much," Robin replied with a large smile.

Much brought much warm water in the bucket for Robin's bath. As he was still wounded, Robin had to resign to a quick wash. The water was warm, and Much included a small scrap of soap, which Robin used diligently. Unwilling to wear his robe or be naked even under bedcovers, Robin insisted that he be dressed in a silk tunic and trousers; he didn't wear his chainmail and armor. It was amazing how much better he felt afterward, even if he had to spend more time bedridden.

Freshly bathed and appropriately garbed, Robin landed on the bed and let Much cover him with a fresh silk sheet. His stomach rumbled and he felt that it was becoming urgent to eat. Never had his stomach been so empty. He said only one word, and soon Much brought some fresh water, stew, crisp bacon, and some fruit. Refreshed and dressed, the young Captain was still hungry, laughing at himself that his immense appetite was like Much's on that day. But what he wished he couldn't have – he wanted strawberry, apples, grapes, goose, pigeon pies, roast beef, hot scrambled eggs, and some other delicacies, which he liked very much when he lived in Locksley.

Robin asked Much about the assassin whom he defeated. Robin wasn't astounded that the assassin had been the masked Saracen as he remembered very well the man's blue eyes – eyes of such a rare color for the Turks. Much was surprised to learn that his master had always been suspicious of the assassin, and he looked amazed at the accuracy of Robin's guess. Much also informed Robin that the disguised Saracen was suspected to have come to the camp to kill Robin and the King on the same night.

Robin relaxed on the bed and closed his eyes for a long moment, trying to digest the news. Then a hint of a smile manifested on his face. "Well, Much, I don't know whether the masked Saracen wanted to kill me, but he definitely wanted to murder our King. And I stopped him."

Much sat on the edge of the bed, his face anxious. "Master, I have heard that this disgusting murderer refused to speak. Legrand told me that he would make him confess."

"I will take everything in my hands soon. I will interrogate the assassin."

"Master, you should rest! You cannot do your duty now! You are not healthy!"

"Much, I'm fine," Robin objected, tilting his head to one side. "How is King Richard?"

"Our King was worried about you; he was very distressed and often spent some time near you, sitting on the edge of your bed. Doctor Raoul said that you would die in your deep slumber, and only the King, Lord Leicester, I, and a few other people didn't give up on you."

Embarrassed and oddly tongue-tied, Robin nodded. He couldn't believe that the King had spent time with him in spite of their friendship and Richard's well-known devotion to Robin. It was wonderful to know that Richard had a deep affection for Robin. He laughed, feeling a fierce, exultant joy sweeping through him at the news that Richard had been so worried.

Yet, Robin groaned as the sharp pain slashed through his side. His wound was still raw, and he had to be careful in order not to hurt himself. "I'm fine. Don't worry," he hurried to say.

"You should rest," Much muttered.

Robin's eyes twinkled, a grateful smile playing on his lips as he stretched his exhausted body on the bed. "Thank you, Much. Thank you for taking care of me."

Much looked at him in amusement. Robin had never thanked him. Sometimes his master showed his gratitude in his own way, but he had never really spoken. "You are not planning to die, aren't you? Are you feeling worse, Master?" he asked, with a nervous undertone. "That's not your style to thank me… This cannot be your way to say goodbye to me… You will not die!"

The smile on Robin's face grew wider. "No, Much. I just thank you for… everything."

Much smiled. "Good!"

Next moment, King Richard emerged on the threshold of the tent. The King smiled, and Robin smiled back at his liege. Richard stood silent and motionless, looking at the Captain of his Guard, his expression obviously both relieved and startled as he had found Robin awake.

"Oh, Robin!" Richard exclaimed. "What a fright you gave all of us! Thanks to God you are alive!"

Robin was amazed that the King dropped the usual royal etiquette. "My liege, I'm very pleased to see you in good health and high spirits."

Much jumped to his feet and tumbled to his knees, but Richard dismissed him from his bow. The monarch walked to the bed and slid down on the edge.

The King looked at Robin for a long, long moment, his expression joyful. He smiled warmly at his Captain, and then fastened his strong arms around Robin's back, drawing his favorite into his arms tenderly and carefully to avoid hurting him.

The King drew away from Robin, and smiled at the younger man. "I'm very happy to see you alive. I feared that you would die, Robin."

Robin smiled at the King. "I'm not going to die."

"Robin, I owe you a tremendous debt of gratitude," Richard said in a silken tone.

"You owe me nothing, sire," Robin protested. "I saved your life not to do my duty to my King, but because I wanted to save you."

The King flashed a large smile; he loved his young Captain very much, and Robin didn't know how deep Richard's affection for him was. "You have always been the most loyal of all my men."

Robin's expression changed into haughtiness. "I know."

Richard laughed. "On the verge of complacency!"

Robin shrugged elegantly, smiling mischievously. "I beg my pardon for my manners."

"It is fine." The King lovingly rumpled Robin's sandy-colored hair. "Now you should rest. I will ask my physician to come and examine you. You will do nothing for several more weeks."

"But, sire-" Robin was going to protest.

Richard interrupted him. "I don't need your sacrifices, and your health is very important to all of us." He climbed to his feet.

"I'm fine," Robin asserted.

Richard shook his head. "Robin, you need more time to recuperate. It is not the question for discussion – it is your duty to yourself and me," he said dismissively, his tone insistent and firm. "You will have everything that you need. My best doctors will continue taking care of you."

Robin smiled gratefully. "Thank you, milord."

"Welcome, Robin." The King smiled back at his Captain. His gaze flew to Much. "Much, take two guards and go to the central market in Acre. Buy everything your master wants to eat."

Much smiled serenely. "I know what he wants. He wants strawberry, apples, goose, and eggs."

"Then go and buy what our Robin wishes. Don't save money, for I will give you as much as you need to buy food and everything else Robin wants," the lion instructed, smiling at Robin's absent-minded face. "Now I have to go, Robin. I will visit you in the evening."

As soon as the King LEFT, Robin smiled easily, full of confidence in his importance to King Richard, and the transformation in him that the smile generated almost made Much give a joyful cry, for his master's entire being seemed illuminated by its radiance at that moment. Much also smiled, content and calm for the first time in so many long days; he was already planning how he would cook Robin's favorite food and feed his master who had lost too much weight.

ææææææ

In order to break the prisoner and make him confess, Sir Legrand de Maulevrier ordered to have Guy flogged. The Crusaders dragged Guy from his cell, through the corridor and outside, to the place where executions were usually carried out by the King's guards.

Guy immediately realized what they intended to do with him. The thought that he would be beaten like a peasant or, worse, a slave, was revolting. But there was nothing he could do to escape from the degradation forced upon him by one of the King's men.

In a minute, Guy was stripped of his clothes to the waist. The Crusaders, with disdainful expressions and contemptuous smiles on their lips, surrounded him. Legrand signaled to begin the punishment of the assassin. An absolute silence was broken only by the ghastly sound of the lash biting into the naked flesh of Guy's back. Legrand stood nearby, presiding over the punishment.

"This despicable man deserved his punishment. We spent too much time trying to talk to him and push him to reasonable cooperation, but he remained a stupid fool and a simpleton," Legrand said in a booming voice. "Now let him ripe the fruits of his treason."

"Maybe we shouldn't do this? Maybe not now?" the Earl of Leicester questioned, his eyes focused on the young blonde Crusader, who was administering the flogging and was armed with a long whip made of thongs of plaited leather. "Robin didn't give this order."

The Earl of Leicester didn't like watching torture, but he decided to stay in order to prevent punishment before it could become unbearable and excessive. He hated the masked Saracen, but he preferred to talk to Robin at first and then decide what to do next. If Robin had died from his wound, Leicester would have brutally killed the assassin; but Robin was alive and his condition even improved in the past several days, although he still was unconscious, as they believed.

"You are too soft, Lord Leicester," Legrand commented, looking at the disguised Saracen who winced in pain visibly at every stroke of the lash.

"You know that I hate traitors. I always condemn them to brutal punishment for regicide attempts, but not in the case when I need them to cooperate," Leicester contradicted. "Besides, the assassin's injuries are still healing. Your punishment will only have one effect: he will feel worse and won't talk."

Legrand gave a hard glare to Leicester. "Robin is unconscious. When he is here, then he will command. The King told me to make this worm talk. I'm doing my duty, Lord Leicester."

"Lord Leicester, we love and respect you, but, in this case, we have to say that it is not your business. You are the Captain of the Second Guard, not the Private Guard," one of the Crusaders stated; his expression changed into satisfaction as he watched the beating. "We are doing this for our King and Sir Robin. He nearly murdered them and deserves something worse than beating."

"Robin wouldn't have approved of your actions. This man is injured, even if he attempted regicide and seriously wounded our dear Robin," Sir James of Kent interjected.

Leicester nodded. "Exactly."

"The King ordered me to make him talk!" Legrand repeated at the top of his voice.

"Beat this worm! Harsher! Harsher!" one of the young soldiers cried out.

"Make this worm squirm in pain and beg for mercy!"

"He deserves much worse for what he did to our King and our Robin!"

At the same time, Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and the Captain of the Private Guard, was on his way to the place where the beating of the masked Saracen was happening. As soon as Much had told his master that Legrand had ordered to have the masked assassin flogged, Robin had climbed out of the bed and had asked Much to help him stop that. Despite Much's protests, Robin had hurriedly left the tent, wishing to stop the beating. Much had trailed behind his master, ranting that Robin needed to stay in the bed; Robin simply ignored him.

Guy tried not to roar in pain, and only the faintest moan erupted from his throat each time the lash touched his back. But the more he was beaten, the more difficult it was becoming to suppress his moans. His face was a mask of suffering, and every part of his body was hurting; the skin of his back was afire, and blood was seeping from the lacerated flesh. His eyes were closed, and he didn't dare open them to watch the faces of so many Crusaders who enjoyed his pain and agony.

A new strike followed, but again only the faintest groan escaped his set lips. Guy mentally cursed the young Crusader, who was flogging Guy, clearly trying to inflict the greatest pain. The man was not hurrying and instead was savoring every moment, enjoying the effect of flogging on the prisoner. Guy could easily imagine how Robin could have been happy if he had seen his punishment and had recognized Sir Guy of Gisborne in the miserable prisoner.

Robin of Locksley forced a way through the tight-packed ranks of the King's men. There were soldiers from various columns of King Richard's army there, but all of them knew Robin and stared at him with wide-open eyes. The Crusaders were abashed with Robin's unexpected appearance, for they still didn't know that Robin had awakened. The men, who served in the Private Guard, bowed to Robin and smiled at their Captain, anticipating that Robin would now stop the beating.

As Robin managed to get far enough through the crowd to see the bloody sight, blood froze in his veins. He knew that the assassin was still healing from serious injuries, as he himself had wounded the man twice. Robin hated when injured people were put to the rack, although he often gave orders to torture captured Saracens and kill them afterwards. But torturing a sick man, even an assassin, was a different thing – it was not a right thing to do. Besides, they had to make the masked Saracen help them resolve the problem of the unknown conspiracy against the King.

"Stop it," a steady, authoritative voice spoke in Norman-French.

Legrand turned his gaze to the voice. "Robin," he whispered in disbelief, his face turning from paleness to crimson. "Stop the punishment," he shouted.

"Very well, then," Robin said. Much stood right behind his master.

"Oh, Robin, thank goodness!" the Earl of Leicester cried out happily. He turned on his heel and rushed to Robin, pulling him into a warm embrace. "My friend, why wasn't I notified that you awoke? I would have immediately come to you," he said with a slight rebuke.

"Robin! Our Robin!" someone cried out joyfully.

"Sir Robin!" the guards greeted.

"Captain Locksley is alive!"

"Lord Huntingdon is alive! He is here!"

"Thanks to God that Sir Robin survived!"

"I awoke only an hour ago, Robert," Robin said with a merry laugh as he pulled away. "Only King Richard knows so far. I thought that he had already sent someone to you."

"Well, I didn't know and nobody told me, but I'm so happy," Leicester said genuinely.

Sir James of Kent smiled. "Robin, I'm delighted!"

Robin smiled. "Thank you. It is good to be back."

"Master, you must rest!" Much exclaimed. "We must go back to your tent! You cannot be here! The physician should examine you! You are not healthy! King Richard himself will kill you if you wear yourself out now when you have just started recovering!"

Leicester nodded in agreement. "I agree with Much, Robin. You should rest."

Robin assured his friends that he felt good. Then he was quiet, staring at Legrand, his gaze cold, his expression displeased. There was an uncomfortable silence between them. Before silence became too awkward and too unbearable, there was a welcome interruption from Robin.

Robin narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't told about this punishment," he said coldly, his tone changing from friendly and jovial into cold and disappointed.

Legrand knew that his Captain was angry. "Robin, he refuses to talk. I'm fed up with him."

Robin shook his head disapprovingly. "Legrand, you know how the King and I value you, but this time I have to say that you exceeded your authority. You were commanded by our King to make the assassin speak, but you decided to use a wrong method. You shouldn't have ordered to beat a wounded man, at least because it will only make him angrier and more uncooperative."

Legrand bowed his head, in shame and acknowledgment of his guilt. "I hate this damned man. He attempted regicide and almost killed you, Robin."

Robin smiled wryly. "Legrand, there are other methods to make him more receptive and friendly towards us. Leave him to me."

"But you haven't recovered yet," Legrand remarked.

"I know," Robin confirmed with a slight nod. "Now, when I feel better, I will try to participate in the ongoing deals, although I won't be able to lead the Private Guard as a soldier for quite some time."

"I will do exactly as you command, Robin." Legrand's spirits plummeted. He always felt embarrassed when Robin criticized him.

"Legrand, don't be offended," Robin spoke.

Legrand's face recovered neutrality. "I'm not offended."

Robin gave a nod. "Good."

"What else can I do, Robin?" Legrand asked.

"Nothing, my friend," Robin answered with a smile. "Later I myself will interrogate the assassin."

"But please take your rest," Legrand recommended.

"I will," Robin promised. His gaze flew to the assassin who lay on the sand with his face down. "Take him to the dungeons. Ask the physician to come to him," he instructed.

Two men took the disguised Saracen assassin by his arms and started dragging him away. Gisborne didn't struggle with them because flogging had seriously weakened him. Silently, Guy thanked the man who stopped the beating, but he didn't know who his savior was. Guy turned his head and looked around, his eyes darting to the young man with the hair of sandy color who stood in the circle of the smiling and laughing Crusaders; he felt all his body trembling all over as he recognized Robin of Locksley in the man who had obviously ordered to stop the punishment.

Gisborne wanted to look away, hoping that Robin wouldn't see him at least now, not in his miserable state, but he failed to avoid Robin's curious gaze. The moment when Guy's eyes locked with Robin's time stopped and everything disappeared as the two archenemies contemplated each other in grave silence. Guy noticed that Robin's expression was curious, but for a moment the lines in his face were graven deeper than ever, which could have betrayed his inner tension.

Guy had no doubt that Robin had recognized him. Now there was no way to avoid humiliation and embarrassment now. Guy averted his eyes, perhaps trying to minimize the inevitable catastrophe and at least not watch Robin come to him. A mixture of hatred and shame bubbled inside Guy's chest, something so vast and strong that he thought he hadn't felt that way for a very long time as the uncontrollable force of destiny guided him to the meeting with Robin of Locksley.

Robin survived and has already awakened from fever. I think you pitied Guy in the scene of flogging, but Robin appeared there in time to stop the beating. Robin acted in character because he couldn't have allowed his men to beat an injured man, even if this man tried to kill the King.

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