Chapter 7

Unavoidable Choices

During the next few days, Robin spent all his time in the bed, reading several books, including Holy Koran, which he had in possession for quite some time. His friends often visited him, but they stayed only for a brief time and then left. By the end of the week, Robin felt much better; he no longer was ghostly pale, but he was not in a good shape and needed more time to recover.

Much served Robin magnificent breakfasts, dinners, and suppers. In those days, small feasts took place every day, and the meal was delivered to the Crusaders' camp every day for King Richard, Robin, and other high-ranked generals. Much also regularly went to the market in Acre, buying fruits for Robin and some ingredients for cooking Robin's favorite meal.

Robin wasn't accustomed to being served a breakfast of two courses and a dinner of three courses. He felt as if he were a spoiled nobleman who lived in a fairy-tale but surrounded by bloodshed and death. He contemplated the changes in the lives of the Crusaders with grave amusement: they starved during the long and bloody siege of Acre, and many soldiers died from hunger, weakness, and sickness, but now everything changed and supply provision was regularly delivered to the port of Acre from Cyprus and other countries of Christendom.

He learned that he was named Hero of Acre after he had thwarted the Saracen attack on the King's life, and his popularity in the Holy Land skyrocketed. Robin of Locksley was cherished and loved, adored and envied. King Richard spoiled his grand favorite, allowing him to have great food in abundance which very few other men were given. Yet, Robin felt uncomfortable that he was had many privileges, unlike other Crusaders. He had a sickening feeling that he didn't deserve to be at the height of his fame because he didn't believe in the holy cause and because the Saracen attack, which made him Hero of Acre, might have been organized by Prince John.

Robin lay with his head propped on two pillows, a book resting on his chest as he was again reading Holy Koran. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the opened flap of the tent above his head. He was dressed in flat green silk trousers and a green silk tunic, which were one of the very few old things which he kept since his arrival in the Holy Land.

Much poured something from a jug into a plain cup. "Master Robin, you have to drink this."

Robin lifted his eyes from the book and stared at Much. "What is it? Again a tonic?"

"Yes. This is a special tonic for your recuperation." Much approached the bed.

Robin took the cup and slowly drank the liquid. "At least, its taste is not as bad as that of painkilling herbs."

"You need it. It will accelerate your recovery."

"I know, Much. That's why I drink it, though I hate it."

Late afternoon sunlight flooded the tent as the flap of the tent on the front moved, and King Richard appeared at the entrance, his eyes taking in Robin's figure on the bed. Much sank to his knees, and Robin bowed his head, but Richard laughed and dismissed them from formalities.

"Much, leave us with Robin alone," the King said in a gentle tone.

"Of course, sire," Much obeyed, bowing his head deeply in respect to their liege before turning around and heading to the exit from the tent.

As Much disappeared from the tent, Robin began to climb out of the bed, but Richard signaled him to stop. The lion seated himself into a high-back chair near Robin's bed.

"How are you, Robin?" the King asked, his eyes surveying his Captain with concern.

Robin smiled brightly. "I feel much better, my liege. Don't worry about me."

"I'm glad that your health is improving." Richard dropped royal etiquette in privacy with Robin.

The King was holding a parchment in his hand, and it interested Robin. "Did something happen, sire?" He closed the book, his gaze fixed on the lion's face.

"The Sultan's pigeon has just delivered this message." Richard handed the parchment to Robin. "I sent the pigeon to William de Longchamp while you were feverish; I informed him that he captured a Christian assassin in the camp." He sighed. "I also sent Roger of Stoke and Aubrey de Vere to England and Aquitaine, and they are now on their way there."

Robin's heart thundered in his chest. "And do we have any news?"

"De Longchamp sent to me a detailed report, but the news is disturbing."

"Oh," Robin breathed.

"Read it, Robin."

Robin looked through the parchment. It was the last secret message from William de Longchamp, who managed King Richard's expansive network of spies and who had fled England in disguise after his authority had been challenged by Prince John and his loyal supporters. As the King used pigeons for quick exchange of messages, he was in regular contact with de Longchamp.

Robin's eyes widened. De Longchamp reported that Prince John had plotted against Richard. There was information leakage among the Prince's supporters, and de Longchamp had learned that Nottingham had become the center of the conspiracy against the King. Prince John had formed the secret organization of the so-called Black Knights with the intention to kill Richard and replace him with John. De Longchamp asserted that Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham headed the Black Knights, and every member wore a special ring with the Sheriff's insignia.

Robin tore his eyes from the parchment and gazed at the lion. "I have already figured out that Prince John is behind the attempt on your life, milord." His blue eyes flashed with a dark flame of anger. "As soon as I realized that the masked Saracen is Guy of Gisborne, your vassal, it became clear that Prince John sent an assassin to Acre."

"Is it the man who started the fire that consumed your father, Robin?"

"It is him," Robin confirmed with a deep sigh.

Richard Plantagenet had been Robin's legal guardian since the day of Malcolm's death, although Robin had been raised by Sir Edward of Knighton in his everyday life. Robin had lived mostly in Nottingham, but from time to time Richard had invited his young ward to Poitiers. Robin had participated in the knighthood training under the leadership of Lord Walter Sheridan in Aquitaine.

Richard had developed a deep affection for Robin. He had discovered in Robin an interesting personality and had enjoyed their interactions. Robin became not only Richard's ward, but also his friend, protégé, friend, entrusted person, and one of his best generals. Amusingly, Richard was one of few people who understood Robin: the young lord talked to his liege about his life, including the tale of Guy's role in Sir Malcolm's death. Robin was called the King's favorite and his confident, but Richard could have been called Robin's confident as well.

The King stiffened, his gaze turning hard. "Do you know what Gisborne said about you in a fever?"

Robin nodded. "I know."

"Guy of Gisborne hates you and wants you dead," the King snapped, a veil of black fury wrapping his heart. "He tried to kill both of us on the day of the attack."

"He won't kill you and me because he was captured."

"But he almost killed us," the lion added emphatically. "I was unscratched on that night only thanks to your interference, Robin. And you are alive only by the grace of God."

Robin smiled. "We both are alive."

The King eyed Robin, his face devoid of emotions. "I suppose you are going to interrogate Gisborne."

"I intended to do it today if you don't mind, sire."

"Of course, you may do that."

Robin looked thoughtful. "The question is what to do with Gisborne."

The lion raised a brow. "He attempted regicide and was captured. His sentence is death."

"I don't deny that Gisborne's crimes are grave," Robin agreed, folding his hands over his chest. "But the conspiracy against you, sire, is very sophisticated." He emitted a heavy sigh before he resumed speaking. "It would be good if we had a spy among the Black Knights."

The King was amused. "Robin, do you want to keep Gisborne alive?"

"I believe that Gisborne may agree to cooperate. If he switches sides and helps us to deal with the Black Knights and if he repents of his crimes, he may be very useful for us."

"Perhaps, you are right."

"Sire, I hate to offer that, but we don't know who all the participants of the conspiracy are. We need to have someone to spy for us on the Black Knights."

Richard tapped his chin. "It sounds practical." His lips curved into a smile that didn't touch his face. "We only know that Vaisey of Nottingham is the head of the Black Knights club." He smiled. "My brother's minions – the Earl of Buckingham, the Earl of Durham, and the Earl of Spenser – are very likely to be among the conspirators."

"Sire, I hate thinking of that, but I believe that there are traitors in the Private Guard who are spying on us," Robin opined, his blood boiling in rage. "The attack was undetected, and it looks like we were betrayed. I'm sure that some of the guards were bought by the Black Knights."

For an instant, Richard's expression was grave before turning blank. "I agree." He had already had an idea who had betrayed him, but so far he didn't intend to tell Robin about that.

ææææææ

For a while, King Richard and Robin were in a gloomy silence, watching each other.

"Sire, if you don't mind, I want to do something today," Robin began cautiously.

Richard could easily guess that Robin was going to talk about sparing Guy of Gisborne; he could read Robin's mind very well. "Go on, Robin," he encouraged his most loyal subject to speak.

"I mean Gisborne," Robin continued. "Perhaps, we should offer him your pardon in exchange for information and for his help to destroy the Black Knights." He grimaced. "I hate this idea, but it seems that it is our only option to get inside Prince John's inner circle."

The King's heart sank, but his eyes were impenetrable. "Robin, do you understand that Gisborne hates you and that he will kill you if he has a chance?" His gaze turned more intensive. "He stabbed you from the back and ran to my tent. He will backstab you again if he is given a chance."

Robin leaned his head against the pillow, thinking of Guy's future and of the regicide attempt. "I understand all the risks, but we need to learn everything about Prince John's plans to usurp power and kill you," he said in a tight voice. "Gisborne is imprisoned and cornered, but he doesn't want to die. And we need him to make your life safer, milord."

"So you want to keep Guy of Gisborne alive and sway him to our side to prevent new assassination attempts on my life and ensure my safety?"

Robin shook his head. "Yes, though I distaste this idea."

The lion regarded him shrewdly. "Maybe there is something else?"

Robin paled under the King's piercing gaze. Richard knew him too well and could swiftly understand when Robin lied or didn't voice his true thoughts. "I want to make up for my unfair treatment of Guy and his sister," he acknowledged. "I should have defended them on the day of the fire."

"Old drill, Robin? I have already heard that."

"Yes, indeed."

Richard sighed. "You are not guilty. You were a seven-year-old child, while Gisborne was a fifteen-year-old young man. He started the fire due to his stupidity and recklessness, and he paid for that." He took a whizzing breath. "Roger of Gisborne shouldn't have come to the village because he was infected with leprosy." He raised his voice. "It is only the fault of the Gisbornes."

Robin looked at the King nervously. "But I wronged Guy and his sister Isabella when I let the Bailiff banish them from Locksley. I should have found them later, but I even didn't try."

"Stop blaming yourself for nothing. Don't waste your time on trifles."

"Sire, may I offer such a deal to Gisborne?"

Richard stared fixedly into the emptiness, no doubt arranging his opinion in his mind. "Permission is granted," he stated at last, with a stiff nod.

"Thank you, milord."

"Robin, you must stay in a bed as long as you can for your recovery."

Robin frowned. "Sire, I can–"

The King interrupted him. "We have a ceasefire, and you don't have to fight. You need to rest and get your strength back."

"Yes," Robin agreed reluctantly.

Richard sighed, his mind drifting off to the night of Saracen attack. "The Saracen attack was one of the most dramatic events of the Crusade."

"Really?" Robin arched a brow.

"It is always a dramatic event when the wounded Captain of the Private Guard saves his King's life," the King stated in a voice tight with emotion. "Robin, you ran to my tent and saved my life from that Christian murderer. You were fighting for my life when your own life was fading away." He smiled at the younger man fondly. "You are my friend, Robin. Always remember that."

Robin smiled cordially. "I treasure our friendship, sire. I will always be by your side."

"I know, friend," Richard replied with conviction. He rose to his feet. "Take care of yourself."

Smiling at Robin, the King swiveled and walked to the exit. Robin didn't see a cunning smile on Richard's face as he left the tent. The King had a plan, but Robin didn't need to know about that.

Robin heard Much humming one of the King's favorite songs under his breath, and he giggled, thinking that Much would never change. In childhood, Much had always hummed something, at times so loud that Robin had heard his songs from the master bedroom at the Locksley Manor while Much had slept in the servants' quarters. Much's singing and ranting irritated many of Robin's comrades, but Robin didn't reprimand his loyal manservant. Much's love for singing was as well known as Robin's dry humor.

Robin smiled brightly. He loved Much and was grateful to him for his service in the Holy Land. If Much hadn't joined him on the Crusade, he would have already been dead a long time ago. They were brothers-in-arms and worked as a team on the battlefield: Much usually protected Robin from the back and was ready to kill any enemy who could harm Robin. Robin knew that he owed a tremendous debt of gratitude to Much for his utter devotion and his unconditional loyalty to him.

There was something that Robin wanted to do a long time ago. "Much, there is something I need to speak with you about," he declared.

Much went silent, then stared at Robin. "What is that, Master?"

"I have a surprise for you, my friend." Robin grinned widely, his eyes brightened. "We have known each other for a long time, haven't we?"

A look of worry crossed Much's face, but it was replaced with bewilderment. "Well, yes, Master."

Robin sighed. "By the end of this month, it will be over nineteen years. You have been loyal to me, more loyal than I deserved. I have always trusted you and counted on you completely." He gave a small smile. "You have my thanks for everything you have done for me."

Much blinked in amazement. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Much, I'm releasing you from my servitude," Robin continued, feeling relieved that he had said that. "You are no longer my manservant, and I'm going to hire another squire."

Much blanched. "You no longer need my services?"

"Yes. I'm making you a free man."

"Master, you say that I'm loyal and you are grateful, but… you want to dismiss me." Much gasped, fighting for breath. "What did I do wrong? Did I disappoint you?"

"Much, it is not what you think."

Much observed the younger man curiously, as if wondering at the audacity of the speech he wanted to deliver. "It is easy for you to get rid of me. I know that I annoy you, and now you are bored." He stretched his arms towards Robin, his finger pointed at Robin. "And why do I need my freedom if I'm left with nothing? I have no home and no family, nothing at all. I had only you."

Robin was embarrassed that his speech had misled his manservant. A flush of pink came into his pale cheeks, and the rims of his ears darkened with a rush of blood. Looking at Much, he felt that the older man wanted nothing more but to tear him apart with his bare hands for his words; he knew that behind abashment and shock on Much's face there were anger, betrayal, and hurt.

"Much, you are my friend, not my servant," Robin underscored. "We grew up together and mourned the loss of my father together." He let out a heavy sigh. "We both lived through horrors of the war together and spilled… much Saracen blood. We saved each other's lives." He managed a smile. "Do you really think that I will leave you with nothing?"

After a moment's silence, Much said, "You said that you don't want me to serve you any longer."

"You are no longer my servant because I'm going to grant you the lodge of Bonchurch, and the surrounding lands. I will ask the King to officially make you the Lord of Bonchurch."

Much opened his mouth so widely that it was like a gaping hole. "Master, you are a nobleman by birth, but I don't know how to be a lord. I wasn't raised to be a lord."

Robin laughed at Much's frightened expression. "Much, you do deserve this surprise. It is just a small token of gratitude that I can offer you for your loyalty and devotion."

Much smiled: Robin didn't want him out of his life, but only wished to elevate his status and he liked that. "Right then, if you wish, Master." He smiled. "I'm very grateful, but I really don't need Bonchurch. I just want to stay with you."

"I know that you need nothing from me, but I want to take care of you after our return to England. You served me too well and I should have rewarded you a long time ago."

For a while, Robin and Much just watched each other, Robin grinning sheepishly and Much smiling gratefully. Robin was happy that Much had accepted his gift, but Much didn't need wealth. All that Much needed was to be Robin's friend and take care of Robin: Robin's life and happiness were more precious to Much than the crown of England and anything else in the world.

Much's cheeks went crimson. "Oh, Master…" He smiled gratefully.

"Don't call me your master anymore," Robin requested. "I'm Robin for you."

"Of course, Master… Robin…" Much stammered. But he just couldn't stop calling Robin his master.

"Robin," the sandy-haired man amended with a wide smile.

Suddenly, a dark shadow crossed Much's face. "So… we are not going home?"

"Much, I made you a free man, and I'm not going to use you as my servant anymore. The King will make my wish official, and then you can be free and go back to England."

"What about you, Master?"

"Robin," the correction followed.

"Robin," Much echoed.

"I'm not going to England so far. I don't think that the King will let me leave now."

"Then I'm also staying with you."

"Much, you may return to England."

"You know that I will never leave you here alone."

Robin gave Much a warm smile. "In this case, I will make you a guard, but not my squire."

"But I will always take care of you. I will do it better than anyone else can do it."

"I want you by my side, but as a friend."

Much smiled widely. "I will always be with you. I'm yours, Robin."

Robin chuckled. "And I'm yours, my friend."

ææææææ

After Robin had ordered to stop the beating of the masked Saracen, Guy had been dragged by the guards to his dark, damp cell. He had been thrown on a straw mattress; he couldn't have rested on his wounded back as his body still was a mass of bruises and cuts. He cursed the Crusaders for beating and humiliating him. He had never been humiliated as much as he had been by being flogged and obliged to listen to a nasty laughter of the King's men about him, the masked Saracen.

Doctor Matthew Béliveau was summoned to Guy's cell at Robin's request. The physician tended to the wounds on Guy's back, cleaning them with salt water and bandaging them. Although the welts on his back caused Guy much pain, the doctor wasn't allowed to give him any painkilling herbs; Guy had to tolerate terrible pain for several days. Luckily, he didn't contract high fever like it had happened to him when Robin had stabbed him twice in the fight in the King's tent.

During the next days, nobody visited Guy, and only some food was given to him – some bread, a bowl of poultry soup, and water, which he drank in gigantic amounts. When Guy demanded to give him better food, the guards hit him in the face and informed him that he was given a bowl of soup only because Captain Locksley had ordered to feed him well. Legrand said to Guy that he would have flogged him again with fierce brutality if Robin hadn't instructed them to stop torturing him.

Guy had relatively bearable conditions of his imprisonment only thanks to Robin of Locksley, and it injured his pride. He didn't want to be obliged to his sworn enemy, whom he hated so much. Yet, he remembered his conversation with Vaisey's spy, who assured him that Robin would help him get the King's pardon if he had agreed to cooperate. But the mere thought that he had to humiliate himself and beg Robin for his life sent him to the pits of hell; yet, Guy wanted to live.

Since he had been imprisoned, Guy was in hell, physically hurting from the recent torture and plagued by the nightmares about the fire at the Gisborne Manor. If he closed his eyes, he could see Robin's blue eyes, the color of which he hated throughout his whole life. He could almost imagine the inferno, where sinners were burning, and could hear their pleas to God for mercy.

He hated being in jail. The lack of fresh air and the stench threatened to suffocate him. Guy heard that Robin had prohibited everyone from interrogating the masked Saracen; he anticipated that Robin would come to him soon. Stillness augmented his hearing, and he moved at the slightest sound, his heart beating in anticipation that the door would open and Robin would enter. Besides, there were always two guards in his cell trusted by Legrand and the King; they watched the masked Saracen with utmost scrupulosity and wrote down what Guy did or said.

Waiting for his childhood nemesis, Guy was turning more and more anxious. Days were passing, but Robin didn't visit him yet. It seemed that one month had passed since the fateful raid, and if he had escaped from the camp and sailed from Acre, he would have been in Marseilles now. He wondered what Vaisey would do when he got news about Guy's capture in Acre or what the Sheriff would think when Guy didn't return to Nottingham in a due time. Prince John and the Black Knights and Prince would surely wonder what had happened to Guy not because they were worried about his fate but because he knew the grave secret about their plans to kill the King.

Guy lay on a straw mattress; his eyes were shut tightly, his breathing steady. Then he heard the creak of the heavy iron door, and the sound made him shudder in horror. He heard footsteps of the two people, thinking that the guards came to change for the night. Yet, the two men, who had guarded him in the afternoon, walked out of the cell, their footsteps echoing in the corridor.

What terrified Guy next moment was that someone stopped on the threshold of his cell. Then he was suddenly blinded by the flames of the torch. He raised his hand protectively before his eyes. "Who is here?" Guy's heart thundered in his chest.

"How are you doing, Gisborne?" Robin's cold voice coursed through the air.

Guy shuddered in horror, thinking that the minute he had dreaded for so long finally came. He took his hand from his eyes and saw Robin in the flickering light of the torch. Robin was definitely thinner and paler than he had been on the night of the attack, and Guy's heart pounded harder in delight that his enemy had been affected so much by his injury.

Legrand stood at Robin's right hand, holding the torch in his arm.

"Did you come to gloat, Locksley?" Guy growled.

Robin's eyes narrowed at the prisoner with a sudden predatory intensity. "I think my visit will improve your low spirits, Gisborne. You should rejoice that you have a chance to see me alive – to see that you failed to take the King's life and my life as well."

"Yes, I failed," Guy acknowledged.

Robin laughed. "Aren't you happy that I'm alive, Gisborne? After all, we have known each other for many years and we are old friends," he said sarcastically.

Guy wanted to scream in rage. He wanted to punch his tormentor until Robin screamed for forgiveness for the wrongs he had done to the Gisborne siblings so many years ago. But he couldn't attack Robin – his legs and wrists were shackled, and the metallic chain tied him to the wall. Besides, he lay on the stomach and could see Robin only because his mattress faced the door.

"Go to hell, Locksley," Guy said between clenched teeth.

Robin guessed that the other man was infuriated with Robin's appearance. "It is surely better to see my charming persona than to be alone in your cell, only with the guards."

Legrand croaked with laughter. "Robin, you are not only charming but also precious for us."

Robin grinned smugly. "Legrand, my friend, don't exaggerate."

"What do you want, Locksley?" Guy barely repressed his moan as the burning pain in his back slashed through him when he tried to move his body. "It is too late to interrogate me. Shouldn't you be in your comfortable tent and sleep, whimpering in pain from the wound in your side?"

"Robin, I will beat him now," Legrand hissed. "This worm will pay! He will pay!"

Robin placed a hand on Legrand's shoulder. "Calm down, my friend. I don't care what he says." His eyes locked with Guy's, and he flashed a brilliant, haughty smile. "Gisborne, you are in no position to quarrel with me. It is not a wise strategy."

"What do you want, Locksley?" Guy repeated his question.

Robin narrowed his eyes. "Gisborne, you attempted regicide; it is a heinous crime. Do you know that I can have you hanged, drawn, and quartered tomorrow? I can order your death right now."

Guy let out a laugh. "The King needs me."

His mouth forming a sudden "oh" of unhidden amazement, for Robin was shocked with Guy's audacity. Legrand was seething with anger, but Robin's hand restrained him from moving towards the assassin and beating him. Legrand didn't know about that, but he also found himself hardly able to restrain his fist from descending upon the head of the shameless traitor before him.

"I can have you executed even now, and King Richard won't be angry with me." Robin gave Guy a smile that was sheer fury and pure challenge as well. "I know your name, and I know that you are King Richard's subject. It is enough to make right assumptions about the person who hired you."

Gisborne paled, understanding that Robin had already understood Prince John had been behind the regicide attempt. "If you plan to execute me, then do it tomorrow. The sooner, the better."

"I think that you don't want to die, Gisborne," Robin assumed. "And I can help you."

Guy thought that he had misheard him. "What?"

"I will help you, but only on one condition," Robin promulgated. "I will spare your life only if you tell me everything you know about the regicide attempt. You must disclose the names of all your conspirators and the details of your plan to kill the King."

A faint sickness of awe made Guy feel weak. "You are lying," he muttered.

"I'm not lying," Robin contradicted.

Guy didn't believe Robin. "You hate me. You cannot wish to help me."

"I know that you hate me, Gisborne. It is the reason why you tried to kill me on the night of the raid." Robin advanced forward and stopped next to Guy. "You have hated me since childhood."

"I hate you because you ruined my life!" Gisborne shouted. "You stole the Gisborne lands from my sister and me! You are a thief and a liar!"

"Your father was dispossessed because he was a leper – it was not my decision," Robin parried coldly. "And I never lied since the case with an arrow when I… wronged you."

Guy's expression turned into bewilderment. "Are you admitting your mistakes, Locksley?"

"I'm bored," Robin said dismissively. "I gave you a choice, Gisborne. You can cooperate with me and tell me everything about the conspiracy, and then I will spare your miserable life." His voice sounded not hateful, but weary. "If you don't cooperate, I will order your execution."

Guy felt his heart beating faster. "How much time do I have to make up my mind?"

"I will come here in five days when we both feel better," Robin answered, his lips quirking in a slight smile. "Now I have to leave. Have sweet dreams, my dear masked Saracen."

Robin knew that he would probably regret in the morning that he had given Guy a choice to switch sides, but at present, he was glad of the rest, glad of the attempt to make up for the wrongs he had caused to Guy in childhood. Maybe he was a sentimental man who couldn't just execute a man whom he had known since childhood. Maybe his whole speech to Guy about getting royal pardon was a mistake from first to last, but the voice in the back of his head told him that he did a right thing tonight. But at least Gisborne's comic expression of amazement and shock when Robin offered the man a chance for salvation was worth of visiting the dungeons, Robin mused.

Robin and Legrand turned around and went out of the cell. Two new guards entered and took their posts, sniggering at Guy. Guy heard the sound of the door closing and the receding footsteps in the corridor. Guy shut his eyes, a wealth of emotions coursing through him – amazement that Robin had offered him a chance to survive and hope that he wouldn't be executed as a high traitor.

Outside, the King's page stopped Legrand and informed that King Richard had summoned him to his tent. Smiling at his friend and comrade, Robin clapped Legrand on his shoulder and walked to his own tent where Much was impatiently waiting for him. Legrand headed to the royal tent.

The guards near the King's tent bowed to Legrand and stepped aside, letting him enter. Legrand stepped into the tent and saw his liege sitting in a high-back armchair at the table with maps and parchments in the opposite part of the tent. The King had been obviously studying the maps, perhaps the route to reach Jerusalem from Acre in case a new march to the south, before Legrand came. Legrand stood quiet for a minute, waiting for the King to acknowledge his presence.

King Richard glanced from parchments to Legrand. "Legrand, I waited for you. You and I need to do something of vital importance," he began in a personal but somewhat distant voice. The conversation would be too private, and he didn't need to stick to formalities and lose time.

"My liege," Legrand greeted, bowing his head in respect. He was stunned that the King spoke to him without a usual royal etiquette: he was close to his liege and was considered a royal favorite, but the King usually was more formal in his presence.

The King asked, "Did Robin finish the interrogation of the masked Saracen?"

Legrand nodded. "Yes, milord."

"Very well, then," the King said neutrally. "We are going to have an important conversation."

"I'm always at your disposal, sire."

Richard made a mark on the parchment; then he turned his gaze at the blonde Norman knight. "Legrand, you and Robin are friends. Do you love Robin? Do you want all the best for him?"

Legrand looked amazed before his expression regained its neutrality. "I have known Robin for many years. I love him dearly as a friend, almost as a brother."

"Robin is a kind-hearted and honest man, and his humanity is both his weakness and his strength," Richard said rhetorically. "But one day this humanity may kill him."

"Yes, I suppose so," Legrand said quietly.

The lion gave Legrand a paternal smile. "You and I love Robin very much." He sighed. "I'm so happy that Robin is alive. I prayed for his recovery every day."

"And so did I."

"Legrand, we are going to help Robin by protecting him."

"I'm ready to do everything for Robin," Legrand pledged.

The King smiled enigmatically. "Invite Sir James of Kent. Then hide behind the curtains in the corner and listen to our conversation." He let out a short laugh. "You will find our little chat quite interesting and entertaining."

Legrand shook his head, confused. "I will do exactly as you command, sire."

Robin wants to help Guy to ease his conscience because he considers himself guilty of not helping Guy and Isabella in childhood. Robin is a good man, and he has a conscience; so his actions when he gives Guy a choice to switch sides and survive are in character.

King Richard is also planning to do something, but Robin doesn't know about that.

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