For quite a while Robin had resisted to accept the truth. He had refused to admit for a very long time which lies he had been wrapped himself in, he had simply rejected the fact that he had not only fooled his friends - and Marion - but had not even shied away from deceiving himself.

But now he was running out of time and for this reason he finally had the courage - or perhaps the strength - to take a look into his soul and also to be able to see what was there. In no way was it what he had wanted everyone to believe. On the contrary, something completely different was in there, something that he had wanted to keep hidden from everyone all this time.

"Who is your greatest enemy? Always at your shoulder?" Herne had more than once confronted him with this question, and now he was sure that he had always known the answer to it - deep down in his heart. Yet he had not wanted to admit that either, for then his lies would have come to light. However, he had wanted to hold on to them obstinately.

He had then sealed his own fate with this kind of behavior, albeit not only his. If matters went truly wrong, then he had dragged the rest into it as well. Meanwhile Robin had become aware that his life would end on this day, yet he was willing to do anything to prevent the others from sharing this fate with him. He did not know, however, if he would still be in a position to do so. Was it already too late to at last admit the truth regarding his circumstances? He cherished the hope that this was not so, otherwise many people would have to pay for the fact that he had not been strong enough to be able to face himself.

It was already too late to apologize to the rest for having lied to them all along. He would not get any more opportunity to do so, for already he was alone. Much and Marion had left him - one on his promise, the other through his persuasion - and all that remained for him now was to wait for the inevitable. For his death.

He had not managed to confess the truth to the two people closest to him, instead he had lied to them until the very last moment. However, he did not really consider this a bad thing, since he had made it easier for the two of them to move away. If, on the other hand, they had known what was really going on in his mind, then they would have ...

Yes, what would they have done in that case? What would have actually happened if they had learned the truth before this day? Would they still have followed him so willingly? He did not believe so.

Certainly not if they had realized that it was his dishonesty that had determined his ultimate fate. Only now did he understand he would have only needed to be honest with them - above all with himself - to avoid being hunted across the woods like wild beasts. By his dishonesty, however, he had squandered his position as Herne's Son, and he now wondered how the others had failed to notice this. For what other reason would Herne have taken his protective hand from him?

It was also of no significance that he had not been able to accept the truth only for the reason that - according to his conviction - this did not fit in with his position as Herne's Son. No matter how much he might regret his behavior, it could not be changed, for he was already in this place to redeem the damage he had done with his sacrifice.

When Herne had called him to be his Son, when Sherwood and its people had been placed in his care, it had never occurred to Robin that there would come a day when he would have to make the ultimate sacrifice. He had become quite aware that he could die on any given day, but he had only thought of it in the context of the fight against the Sheriff and his henchmen. Literally, that is. He had indeed assumed it would be Gisburne's blade that would bring him death, but also that this was preordained. For what other reason would Herne have kept the knight alive? Robin had never thought that as Robin Hood he was only an incarnation of the Summer King, who in turn was tied to the land and the people. Only as long as the King of Sherwood was doing well, the people were also doing well.

But if this was not the case ...

He had simply not wanted to give it a thought. Thus, he had brought misery upon his own head. Lying to himself had led him onto this path, at which end he now found himself. And lying to the rest had resulted in them stepping onto this path together with him.

All that remained was for him to try his best to give the others a way out. He had provided them with an opportunity to continue on their way, for their paths had not yet come to an end. But he had not been able to avoid that darkness settled over them and that they could no longer see where they were going. Therefore they had stayed with him, thinking that they were destined to share his fate.

'I beg you to forgive me, Marion,' he pleaded in his mind. 'Forgive me for letting you believe I loved you.'

Marion was more than just dear to him. Ever since he had first laid eyes on her, she had held a special place in his heart. It was so very special that he had mistaken his affection for her for love. To excuse himself, he could only say that he had no idea of what love was at that time. Therefore, no one would probably reproach him for this mistaking, and yet that was a very different matter in regard to sticking to the lie. Moreover, it was definitely reprehensible to make Marion believe that he had some feelings for her, which in reality were not existent.

'I beg your forgiveness too, Much,' he asked his foster-brother. 'Forgive me for not trusting you to be able to understand me. Forgive me for still treating you like a child.' Obviously, he had not wanted to realize that the boy he had grown up with - who had always looked up to him and needed his protection - was not a child anymore by now. He had not treated him as he had deserved. He had thought he could not burden him with the truth as he simply would not understand it, when all he had wanted to do was to protect himself from the pain. He had not wanted to admit that.

He had lied to the rest of them, too, but he did not consider that to be so grave - not even now after finally being able to accept it - although he was aware that there should not have been any lies among friends. Then again, he was aware that they had stayed with him for other reasons, and their fate was not as closely tied to his as it was the case with Marion and Much. Which did not change the fact that he had also led them astray and off the path that was theirs. Now he could only try to make amends- as a last act of friendship.

In the end, this left only the one person who was the reason - or the cause - for all these lies and self-deceptions. Had he also led him away from his destiny? He had no idea - did not even know how he could have come to know - but he certainly was aware that he had lied to him, as well. It did not matter that he was sure the other man would not have accepted the truth in any case. This should not have stopped him since, after all, he was Robin Hood and had set out to make the world a better place. He was the one who had always believed himself - and had claimed to others - to be better and not to deceive the people. And yet he had lied and brought misfortune to them.

But what was even worst: his insistence on being the better one had also turned out to be a lie, and he had already become aware of this even before that day. He had been able to live with it since he was of the opinion that it was his right to bring misfortune and suffering to the people who stood in the way to his aims. And to whom he did not feel attached.

But was this also so in the case of the man who had caused him - even if unwittingly - to betray himself? Robin did not think so.

He paused for a moment, his last arrow on the drawn bowstring, and then called out in his mind:

"Remember me!"

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Gisburne was gripped by a restlessness far beyond what he experienced on ordinary days. However, he could not claim that this was a day like any other either, for that would be a fat lie. That said, it caused him to make his rounds through Wickham - almost without stopping - even though he knew full well that his men were at their posts, the outlaws were sitting tied up in a hut, and the serfs were far too scared to do anything. Still, he could not help himself, and as a result he held those soldiers, who had also been forced to remain in the village, accountable for real - as well as imagined - missteps. At the same time, it did not bother him that he knew full well they would roll their eyes as soon as they were out of his sight. But after all, this was no different any other time.

Of course, they were careful not to let him notice that, for they were well aware that he would use that as a reason to let them feel his anger. However, this was only the case if he could no longer pretend to not have seen anything, since being angry all the time was quite exhausting in the long run. Besides, he had once been in a similar position to them, even if he had never been a common soldier. However, de Rainault - regardless of which one he was dealing with - always gave him the impression that nothing had changed since then. He had not forgotten what his reactions had been like when he was younger.

Indeed, if he were honest with himself - a luxury he often could not afford - he would admit that the soldiers served only as a distraction from ... whatever was preoccupying and troubling him.

At first, he had assumed that it was the anger at being put out to pasture in Wickham that was upsetting him, but in the meantime he had reached the conclusion that this was not the case. However, he had not made any progress in figuring out what was causing him to experience this - unusually intense - restlessness.

In the meantime, it was no longer sufficient for him to make his rounds in the village. This was partly due to the fact that he was well aware that the soldiers would do their work worse rather than better if he continued to harass them - even if he himself would call it something else - and he would also make a fool of himself in front of the prisoners if he came storming into the hut one more time as if he assumed they had fled. It was, however, also on account of the fact that he had a strong urge to move. Or more precisely: to move out of the focus of the other people.

The only possible place he could imagine to retreat to, however, was the edge of the forest, and so he had gone there, pretending to check out the situation from this vantage point. In reality, he just wanted to find some peace and quiet. On any other day, the forest would be the last place he would go willingly, but today was different. On this day, with most of the outlaws already captured - including the Saracen and that madman, the two who in the knight's opinion were the most dangerous fighters, Hood aside - and the remaining three being hunted down by the Sheriff with hounds, he could stand among the trees fairly unconcerned.

Of course, he had not forgotten the one who was called Herne by the peasants. When he had first heard of him - back when he began his service with Abbot Hugo - he had dismissed what had been told as humbug, although he was well aware that there was such a thing as magic. If this were not the case, why should the Church have condemned it? As far as magic was concerned, his encounter with a Baron de Belleme, who had returned from the realm of the dead, had shown him that he was well advised to be on his guard in this respect.

However, he could no longer regard Herne's powers as superstition, for he had not forgotten what had happened to him in the forest at the time of the blessing. At first he had tried to ignore what he had experienced, but with that he had not been more successful than with his attempts to get hold of Hood. He could no longer deny - at least not to himself - that there was such a thing as magic in Sherwood and that he should not discount it.

But on that day, Herne was certainly busy protecting his so-called son. Therefore, the knight did not worry about him at that very moment. Instead, he enjoyed being just able to breathe freely for once and to be completely on his own for a brief time, even though he had not forgotten that he had to go back to the village in a while. But still he did not want to ...

"Remember me!"

Gisburne flinched when this call rang out and then he looked around frantically, for he had recognized the voice immediately. He quickly realized, however, that he was still alone. He could not spot anyone who was close by. Had he just imagined hearing that voice? Obviously, there was no one else around, so he must have fancied that he heard Loxley's voice calling him. But why should this have happened to him?

"Remember me!"

Even though Gisburne had just convinced himself that the voice was imaginary, he flinched again. 'Bloody outlaw,' he then thought. 'Even if you're somewhere else in the forest, you're making my life miserable.'

The knight was no longer able to keep quiet. "Where the hell are you, Loxley?" he shouted out, then he once again looked around frantically. This time, however, not so much thinking that the outlaw was sitting somewhere in the bushes here, but rather wanting to make sure that none of his soldiers had approached him. It had been just then that he realized he had uttered these words aloud, which was something he had not actually wanted to do.

Moreover, he was not in the least interested in where Loxley had taken cover. The Sheriff had barred him from this hunt, so now he would not assist him in any way. He was firmly convinced, however, that Hood had succeeded in laying low, for never before had de Rainault managed to gain the upper hand over Herne's Son.

For this reason, the knight's only concern was that he might have been spotted having a talk with someone who was not there at all. However, he could not discover anyone near him and therefore was about to breathe a sigh of relief.

But then all at once Wickham faded away before his eyes and instead he looked down on the Sheriff, as well as his knights and soldiers, which puzzled him quite a bit. But then a cold shiver ran down his spine as he grasped that Loxley had not managed to escape the hunt.

Gisburne had also immediately recognized where the outlaw found himself - oddly enough, he never doubted for a single moment that what he saw matched reality - and then he also realized that there would be no escape from this spot. This time Hood was truly finished. There would be no escaping from this situation. This insight should have been a reason for the knight to rejoice.

Instead, entirely unexpected words emerged from his mouth which he would never have imagined uttering. Yet an inexplicable agony that literally took his breath away forced this statement out of him, and he found it impossible to resist: "What the hell were you thinking, allowing yourself to be forced toward that site of all places, Loxley?"

Of course, he did not expect his question to be answered. He had accepted that he could indeed see what the outlaw was looking at, but at the same time he was forced to remember that the hill was quite far away from Wickham - it was not even within the forest anymore. Therefore, it did not surprise him that Hood did not react to his remark.

Instead, however, there was something else. "Remember me, Gisburne!" Loxley exclaimed, his voice filled with both longing and despair. These feelings came to the knight with such intensity that he had to clutch at the nearest tree to keep from sinking to the ground, for his legs threatened to give way beneath him.

"Damn it, don't go!" he cried out, not caring at that moment if anyone could hear his words. Nor did he care that it should be impossible for him to hear Loxley. Gisburne was no longer aware of where he was, for he had the impression that he was standing on the hill along with the outlaw. More precisely, he had the distinct impression that he was up there instead of the other man.

This time he received a reply to his exclamation, "I have to," Loxley shouted. "I have to. This is my destiny!" Then the knight felt an arrow speed off the bowstring. With absolute certainty Gisburne was aware that this was the last arrow and he was also aware of what this meant.

"Damn the fate, Loxley. You must not go!" Now it was the knight's voice that was filled with longing and despair.

"Come and look for me," the outlaw begged of him, which were the last words he could utter, for now the Sheriff's soldiers sprang into action.

When Gisburne experienced the crossbow bolts piercing his body, he was no longer able to stay on his feet. His body? Surely this could not be! And yet he suffered such pain as he had never before felt in his life.

All of a sudden, there was nothing. No pain, no sound, no ...

... Loxley.

Was it this time indeed going to be a parting for ever? Gisburne did not want to believe that, just as he did not want to believe what he had just undergone. He must have imagined all of this. There was no other way, it had to have been just in his imagination. The King of Sherwood would never let himself be cornered like that. And he would never be so stupid as to leave the forest.

It took some time before Gisburne was able to pick himself up once again, and he only managed to do so knowing that he had to return to the village. No one was allowed to get the idea that anything out of the ordinary had happened, no one was allowed to know anything about what had befallen him. And in no case was anyone permitted to know what he had just experienced. No one ...

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The knight sought to drown the day's events in wine, but all he managed to do was feel even more awful than before.

This had absolutely nothing to do with the wound in his arm, but everything with the realization that the one who had shot him was not Loxley, even if that was what the Sheriff and the soldiers had believed. Gisburne, however, knew better. He had no idea who the man under the hood was, but it was definitely not Robin.

'Where the hell am I going to look for you, Loxley?' Even though he had guzzled enough wine to make him pass out on the table on any other day, he was not so drunk as to have uttered those words aloud.

But he was sure that Robin had heard him, even if he offered him no response. That was again typical for him.

'I will find you,' he threatened him. Or could it be a promise?