Chapter 11
Robin woke up to a sharp kick to his stomach, when he opened his eyes he saw the black clothed men above him. They lifted him to his feet, and with a rough shove in the back, led the way. Robin stumbled and swayed on unsteady legs as he followed his escorts, trying to memorize the path they were taking.
He was dragged into a cramped, low-ceilinged room in one of De Bellem's castle dungeons, stripped of the rest of his clothes, and roughly pushed into a huge tub of water. Following the Baron's instructions to wash him well, the servants rolled up their sleeves and got to work. The water was warm, but Robin didn't even have time to feel it, for he was scrubbed, soaped, rubbed, and scraped as he was dunked headfirst into the water. Dumbfounded at this hasty treatment, Loxley hardly resisted, but when he was plunged against his will once more, and nearly choked to death, his patience broke. With a short swing, he slammed his fist sharply into the jaw of one of those closest to him, the other received a kick from him and fell on his back. Raising a cloud of spray, and straightening up sharply to his full height, Loxley shouted angrily for them to leave him alone and get the hell out. To his surprise, they suddenly obeyed. There were five of them, and the forces were clearly unequal, but the baron's servants turned and walked meekly toward the exit. One of them was limping, the other holding his hand to his bruised cheek, glaring angrily at Robin. The servants clearly wanted to slap the brave brigand, but apparently they were forbidden to beat the stubborn prisoner. The heavy deadbolt rattled, and Loxley was left alone.
He took a breath and looked around slowly. There was nothing in the room but a tub of water and a small bench. Faint morning light filtered in here through a pair of small, barred windows under the ceiling.
He looked up and regretfully thought that escape was out of the question. Sighing, he lowered his eyes and looked at his chest. He rubbed it thoughtfully with the palm of his hand and frowned. He remembered exactly how recently the tip of a crossbow arrow had protruded from that chest, piercing through his body. He remembered not being able to breathe and choking on his own blood. He also remembered the faces of the soldiers looming over him, twisted with rage. They were shouting something, but he couldn't hear them anymore. It sounded like he was being beaten. He felt the blows, but the agony did not last long, and merciful darkness soon took him away. Was it a dream? Robin wasn't sure of that. He remembered how slowly he had climbed toward the light through the dark tunnel. The bright, unearthly glow ahead beckoned to him, promising joy and peace. There was eternal bliss there, and he was almost there when suddenly something from the darkness grabbed him and dragged him down into the darkness with a snarl. It was choking him, tearing at his flesh and tearing him apart from the inside out. It seemed to last forever. He screamed, his body convulsing, until he found himself half undressed, filthy and bloody on the stone floor of the black wizard's castle.
His body was now cleaned of dirt and blood. He took another look at himself. There wasn't a scratch on him, so where had all that blood come from? He was completely confused, but he knew one thing for sure: there was no sorcery involved.
Robin of Locksley, dead on a rocky hill, shot by the sheriff's men, and the fact that he now sits chest-deep in cooling water with his arms around his knees is nothing more than the intrigues of a dark magician.
With a loud creak, the door swung open, and three of de Bellem's concubines entered. They brought hot water. Silently they poured the steaming contents of the buckets into the barrel where Robin sat, and silently headed for the door. Loxley felt one of the concubines furtively glance in his direction.
He had met such looks many times. The women in Wickham village, and in many others where he had been, had looked at him that way. He had never been short of female attention, and there was a time when he had taken advantage of it willingly. He smiled, remembering his years in his foster father's mill. At that time, young Locksley had only two passions - archery and girls. He never chased after them; they fell willingly into his arms. They liked his thick dark hair, his fine facial features and bright hazel eyes framed by thick dark lashes, his chiseled, statuesque figure. Angry villagers, mostly honourable fathers of families, chased him more than once for what they thought was seducing the local girls, but he easily and laughingly escaped their righteous anger on the roofs of barns and henhouses.
They often complained about him to his father. The old miller scolded his adopted son, but Matthew was a kind man, and never laid a finger on his boys. God rest his soul. He burdened his unlucky eldest son with work at the mill so that he would not have time and energy for love affairs. But it did not help much. Loxley's young and hot temper was hard to tire of, and he could hardly tell how many other young ladies he had kissed in the haylofts.
But when he and Marion secluded themselves in the cave after the wedding ceremony and Hearn's blessing, everything changed. Since he had first seen her, all other women had ceased to exist for him. He had sworn loyalty to her for the rest of his life, and he had been true to his vow. She was the only one he truly loved and with whom he was immensely happy. He would have liked to live with her until he was old, but would it be realised?
Marion...
The thought of her made him straighten, and a pang of longing squeezed his heart. Where is she? What was wrong with her? Had she and Much escaped?
He took a deep breath and leaned the back of his head against the edge of the wooden font. The hot water was relaxing and lulling. Steam rose slowly above the water. His breathing was steady, his eyelids heavy, and he felt sleepy. He closed his eyes and there was Marion in front of him. He can reach out and touch her face. Sunlight plays in the cloud of her copper hair, a gentle blush on her warm golden skin, eyes laughing. Somewhere on the edge of consciousness he heard the bolt of the door creak and he was alert, but sleep was stronger.
They stand under the jets of a forest waterfall. Hot lips give gentle kisses. Marion laughingly pulls away and disappears into the stream of falling water like a river nymph. Her laughter sounds close by, but he can't see it. Suddenly her cool palms are on his back, sliding slowly over his wet shoulders, gently down his chest. Her gentle hands brush his long, wet hair away from his forehead, he feels her kisses on his cheek. Her lips became greedy, demanding. With a gentle touch, she traced a damp path from the flesh above his collarbone to where a thin vein beat defenselessly beneath his skin. His breathing becoming confused, she caresses his neck and gently bites his earlobe. Locksley arched his muscular back and a groan escaped his lips as she laughed softly, running her long clawed fingers through his thick hair. But in the blink of an eye, the claws turn into the claws of a predator. The beast!
As if hit in the face, he woke up instantly.
- Hello, darling! Did you miss me?
Loxley recognised the voice. Sometimes he heard it in his nightmares. Blinking dazedly, he tried to figure out if it was a dream or reality.
He turned round sharply, splashing water onto the stone floor around the font. No, he was awake now that the vision behind him wouldn't go away.
- Lilith... - he exhaled.
The sorcerer's concubine stood smiling contentedly at him, her dark eyes sparkling in the half-light.
- Are you not happy to see me? - Her thin eyebrows rose in surprise, but when she lowered her gaze, she added snidely:
- Oh, no. I can see you're glad.
She laughed loudly, tilting her head back, her wavy black hair spilling over her shoulders.
- What are you doing here? - He shouted, trying to hide his embarrassment and annoyance with anger. But remembering that the water in the tub was too murky for ablutions, he realised that the wretch could hardly see anything.
She stopped laughing and stared at him, mimicking innocence.
- Don't be angry, I brought you clean clothes.
With these words she pointed to a bench. Indeed, there was something lying there in a neat stack.
- The water is getting cold fast. It's time to drain you and dress you up. Don't be so modest, for you and I already know each other.
Her voice was soft and enveloping, just as it had been then. Loxley shook his head, chasing away the obsession. He didn't notice how quickly she was there, sitting on the edge of the couch.
- If you're trying to seduce me again with your charms, you're doing it for nothing," he said contemptuously.
He tried not to look her in the eye, you could expect anything from this sorceress.
- Really?" Lilith said mockingly, "You're faithful to your mate, aren't you? That's honourable. But I wonder what your red-haired friend would say if she saw you writhing and wriggling at my touch just a moment ago. - she said and laughed again.
Robin burst into flames.
"Oh, cunt!"
He quickly assessed what his chances were of wringing her neck and getting out of this devil's lair. The latter was the least likely. In his mind, he ordered himself to calm down and not show any sign of letting the bastard tell him anything important about his fate.
- She's not you," Robin said calmly, "Don't you dare talk about her like that.
- You're already giving me orders, that's nice," Lilith continued to sneer.
Robin stared at her silently, unresponsive to her barbs.
Seeing that the pause had lengthened, the sorceress continued thoughtfully:
- 'I saw you dead,' she said quietly, 'Your body was brought here on a cart, in a filthy sack. My dark lord bought you from the Sheriff of Nottingham like a sack of oats at a slightly higher price. Well, I'll be honest, your mortal remains cost my lord a fortune.
Robin snorted and rolled his eyes. De Reynaud hadn't missed an opportunity to make a profit. Not only was he a thief and a scoundrel, but now he was a dealer in the dead. Hit bottom.
- Why would your master do that? Why did he bring me back? Don't tell me the Baron missed me terribly. To put it mildly, we were never friends.
- He needs you.
- Why?
- You'll find out when the time comes, my sweet.
Lilith ran her fingertip thoughtfully over the water, drawing circles beside Robin.
- Tell me, how does it feel to be in hell? - She asked suddenly, staring intently into Locksley's eyes.
Lilith ran her fingertip thoughtfully over the water, drawing circles beside Robin.
- Tell me, how does it feel to be in hell? - She asked suddenly, staring intently into Locksley's eyes.
- I don't know," the gunner answered, trying to see where she was going with this, "But why?
- You know," Lilith interrupted him, averting her gaze. -You've been there. Anyone can go there, but not everyone can come back. Tell me, did you see him? Did you see Asriel?
Robin shook his head no.
- I didn't see anyone. Why do you ask me that?
- Because you may soon be back there again, my dear," the witch said softly, smiling as if she were the best news in the world.
Robin glared at her incredulously.
- What kind of game are you playing with me? What are you talking about? Where am I supposed to go back to?
- Back into Asriel's arms. You belong to him now, and your soul will go to hell when you die.
Robin grinned.
- I wonder who decided that.
- Baron Simon de Bellem.
- Is that so? And who gave him the right to dispose of people's souls?
- The Forces of Darkness gave him that right!
Lilith's voice rose, and even took on a kind of solemnity and reverence.
- Thanks to the patronage of the forces of darkness, the Baron managed to pull you back from the dead. Can you imagine what someone with that kind of power can do?
- And what is the price of this power? - Robin said sarcastically. He was beginning to guess the purpose of the black wizard's concubine.
- The price is nothing compared to what those who swear allegiance to the Lord of Eternal Night receive! Power, wealth, glory, and even immortality - is it not worth it to join the dark forces?
She fell silent, looking at Loxley with eyes as sparkling as two obsidians, and then continued in the same affectionate voice.
- You can join these forces, Robin. You can become part of the mighty world of Eternal Darkness, and the Demon Prince himself, the great Asriel, will be your patron. In fact, you don't even have a choice.
Loxley hesitated, lowering his head and frowning.
- I see, Lilith. I get it. The Baron has brought me back to make me part of his demon retinue. And how is he going to do that?
- Well, first he must complete the ritual. You will have to drink from the cup offered by my lord the elixir of eternal life. This will mark your final passage to the world of the living and your acceptance of the Seal of Darkness. And you will gain powers you never dared to dream of.
- Why didn't the Baron strip me of my will, as you once did to me, to make me do what he wants?
-Oh, that's impossible. It's a very weak magic that dissipates quickly, and the deal is that you must accept the Seal of Darkness willingly.
- And if I refuse?
The witch looked at him with pity, as if he were insane.
- Then hell awaits you, my dear. And it doesn't have to be devil's cauldrons and devils with red-hot pans. Hell can be a lifetime. Dungeons and shackles. What could be worse than being trapped forever in a damp stone bag, without sunlight or air, eating rats and cockroaches? My lord can't just kill you. Your souls are now bound. Your soul is in the Baron's power, and both of you belong to Asriel. If one of you dies, the other…
The witch suddenly faltered, and bit her lower lip in frustration, as if realising she had said too much. Loxley was alarmed.
- What, Lilith? What happens to the second one?
- It doesn't matter. Forget it, sweetheart.
She shook her black curls and gave the gunslinger a gentle smile.
- You probably think the Baron sent me to you. I wasn't. I came on my own. I just wanted to see you. Again…
She reached out slowly and touched Locksley's wet hair. He didn't pull away, waiting to see what would happen next. She brushed a wet strand of hair away from his forehead and looked intently into his eyes.
- I really like you a lot, Robin. Ever since we first met. You're very handsome, very…
As she moved closer, she switched to a passionate whisper.
- You're so beautiful... You have such eyes... It would be a shame if your beauty and youth were to be lost in this castle.
Loxley watched as her face slowly drew closer, her eyelids languidly lowered and her lips ajar and eager to be kissed.
He moved forward a little toward her, and a second before their lips met, he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered breathlessly:
- You know, Lilith... If I had a choice of kissing you or the most poisonous toad in the world, I'd probably choose… the toad.
She pulled away sharply. The mask of gentle seductress was gone from her face in an instant. It was flaming with anger now, and the black eyes glittered with fury and annoyance. She swung round and slapped him viciously. Loxley laughed heartily.
He had avenged her!
She straightened up, shook herself off nervously, and, throwing her captive a disparaging glance, headed for the exit. Fury!
Robin couldn't bring himself to stop laughing.
She went to the door and knocked twice. The door was immediately opened by the guards. She paused for a moment on the threshold, looked back at Robin, and blurted out:
- Oh, by the way. I forgot to tell you. The elixir of life I told you about is blood. The blood of a human sacrifice that's ready and waiting. The sacred altar will soon quench its thirst.
Robin raised his head.
- Victim? What are you talking about?
But the witch was already out the door.
- Lilith, wait! Who is the victim? - Loxley shouted after her, but of course there was no answer. The witch had left him alone with the disturbing thought that the Baron seemed to have prepared for him some vile ordeal.
The door to his dungeon opened wide, and three guards entered. Then it was time to get out of the water and get dressed. Where they would take him next, he didn't know, and he had a bad feeling about it.
Robin, with his hands bound, was led out of the cramped bathing chamber and pushed to the back, towards the wrought iron bars, which were locked. Two armed guards walked in front of him, a third led him by the free end of a rope, and two other soldiers closed the procession. The corridor was narrow and cramped, with no room for manoeuvre, so Robin mentally assessed the situation and decided to wait for a better time to escape.
They stopped short of the grate, the guard fiddled with the key, cursed softly, and opened the grate with a rattle. They walked on, turned right, and climbed the spiral staircase. They crossed a dilapidated hall with stone columns and, climbing the stairs to the next level, found themselves in front of a door that led to another part of the castle. The atmosphere was cosier here, and it felt like living quarters. Robin's nose caught the smell of roasting meat, and he realised how hungry he was and felt a slight dizziness and cramps in his stomach.
The door opened before them, and a servant stood on the threshold of the room, who bowed respectfully to them, stepping aside a little. Robin was led in, the door was shut behind him, and the guard who had accompanied him released his hands from their restraints and stepped aside.
