by N B Dixon
“You cannot win.” Katrina echoed her brother. “You should have married me when you had the chance.”
He was so tired. Perhaps Guy and Katrina were right. He had done all he could. Maybe it was time to let go.
Another voice intruded, desperate and furious. “Damn you. Fight this. I know you’re in there.” And then, softly, “I need you.”
He knew that voice. Ah, he remembered now. Will. Will needed him. Will didn’t want him to go. So there was still something left to fight for, after all.
***
Will groaned and sat up. How could he possibly have fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position—let alone slept the night? His entire body ached, and there was a crick in his neck. He started to rise, stretching cramped muscles, when he felt a pressure on one hand, weak, but unmistakable.
He was still holding Robin’s hand. Will scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pins and needles tingling through his legs.
The fingers he was holding twitched, yet Robin’s body was utterly still.
“Robin?” Will scanned his face anxiously. He was chalk white. The hectic flush of fever had faded from his cheeks. Also, was it his imagination, or was Robin’s skin cooler than it had been?
He laid his free hand across Robin’s brow—still warm, but not burning.
Hope surged in him. “Robin, answer me.” He squeezed Robin’s hand again, and this time, the response was immediate. Robin’s eyelids fluttered, opened.
Will caught his breath. Robin’s eyes focused on him. His gaze was lucid, without the glaze of fever.
“Will?” Robin’s voice was a faint croak, but Will had never heard a sweeter sound in his life.
Relief made him light-headed. “Of course it’s me. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?”
“Where am I?”
“Kirklees Abbey. You were shot with a crossbow bolt. We brought you here four days ago.”
“I remember…David. Is he—”
“Dead.” Will bit off the word.
Letting go of Robin’s hand, he poured a cup of water. “Drink this.”
He lifted Robin’s head, a smile spreading across his face as Robin sipped greedily at the water in the cup.
Pain and exhaustion had hollowed out Robin’s face. His cheekbones stood out prominently, but he was alive.
Will eased him back down, smoothing the hair away from his forehead.
“Was anyone else hurt?” Robin rasped. His eyes were already growing heavy. Will could see the visible effort he was making to keep them open.
“Just you.” Will’s self-control suddenly broke. “God, Robin, you scared me. I thought… I thought I’d lose you this time.”
“You said the same in the Holy Land.”
Will saw the effort it took for Robin to get out the simple sentence. His face tightened with pain. Will imagined his shoulder must be throbbing.
“Lara can bring you something for the pain. Rest awhile. You’re not out of the woods yet.”
Robin lost the battle to keep his eyes open. As he drifted into a relaxed sleep for the first time in days, Will bent and brushed a kiss across his dry, cracked lips.
A sharp intake of breath made him look up, one hand going to the dagger at his belt. Marian was framed in the doorway. She was staring at him as if she had seen a ghost. Will met her gaze levelly.
“He’s sleeping. The fever’s broken.”
Marian was still staring at him. Will brushed past her. He didn’t care what she thought of him, but he didn’t want to have an argument and risk rousing Robin. Now that his immediate anxiety had passed, he could sleep some more.
Robin spent most of that day sleeping. When he woke, it was briefly, and each time he was given water by whomever happened to be sitting by him. In the evening, Sister Agnes examined his wound and pronounced it to be healing. The angry redness had gone from the surrounding skin, and the smell had disappeared. Will knew Sister Agnes believed it was her poultices that had finally drawn out the infection. She applied another one, along with a fresh dressing.
Will had other ideas. Perhaps Robin had heard his plea from wherever he had gone. Or maybe it was Tuck’s prayers. Whatever the reason, Will was grateful.
He was once more perched on the edge of Robin’s bed, while John leaned against the wall. Everyone else crowded in, though Will was pleased to note that Marian and Ursula were absent.
“You look so much better,” Lara said with tears in her eyes.
“I’m as weak as a kitten,” Robin complained. “And my shoulder hurts like the devil.”
“He’s better,” Alan, Much and Edward said in unison.
“And I’m hungry,” Robin went on.
“If you have a good night, you can have some broth tomorrow,” Daphne told him. Her tone was business-like, but her eyes, too, had a suspicious glitter, and Jane was wiping her nose on her sleeve, while everyone else had ridiculous grins on their faces. Robin had clawed his way back to them from the brink of death. It truly was a miracle.
Tuck gave the crucifix on the wall over Robin’s bed a reverent glance. He produced a vial of liquid and a spoon.
Robin eyed it apprehensively. “What is that?”
“Poppy syrup. It will ease your pain and help you to sleep.”
Robin took it obediently and sank back. The others began to leave, one by one. Jane, Lara, and Daphne all bent to kiss Robin before they left. Alan, John, Much, Edward, Tuck and Will remained.
“That’s the last time you get a kiss from my wife, Locksley,” John said with a mock-stern look.
“Perhaps we should finish him off while he’s helpless,” Alan quipped.
Much nodded his agreement.
Robin’s smile was drowsy. “Jealous?” he murmured.
Will exchanged a grin with Edward.
A commotion outside the door had all their hands leaping to their daggers. Will cast an anxious glance at Robin, but the poppy syrup had him in its embrace. He did not stir.
Will moved to stand over him as John strode to the door and banged it open.
“What’s going on out here? You’re making enough noise to wake the dead.”
Will heard Sister Agnes’s voice. “This man insists on seeing Robin Hood. Abbess Evelyn said I was to bring him.”
“He could be a spy,” Will heard Marian say. “How could Abbess Evelyn think of letting him in?”
John turned back into the room and exchanged a silent glance with Will. Will nodded. If this man was alone, he would be easy enough to take out. Plus, it was a strange spy who would arrive at the abbey, ask permission to visit Robin, and walk into the lion’s den unarmed. As the three of them entered the room, Will saw no sign of any weapon on him. In fact, he was holding his empty hands in the air in the universal gesture of peace.
Something about his face rang a familiar bell in Will’s mind. He was still trying to place the name when John spoke.
“You’re Cedric, the potter. What are you doing here?”
Cedric looked uncomfortable. “I need to talk to you.”
“Is there somewhere else we can go, Sister Agnes?” Marian cut in. “Robin should not be disturbed.”
Sister Agnes’s lips compressed in a grim line, but she nodded and beckoned for them to follow her.
Marian and John obeyed at once, but Will hesitated.
“Go,” Tuck said. “We’ll watch over him.”
Sister Agnes led them to one of the numerous guest cells in the abbey. Once upon a time, the building had been home to many more nuns than were currently in residence, and there were a good many rooms that stood neglected and empty.
“Out with it,” John snapped, the moment Sister Agnes had shut the door. “What do you want? He’s in no state to do anything for you or your family.”
“I’ve been sent by the sheriff.” Cedric got no further. John had him slammed up against the wall with his dagger to Cedric’s throat.
“Wait,” the man gasped.
“You’ve got nerve,
I’ll give you that,” John growled. “It’s not anyone who would come waltzing in here, but you signed your death warrant.”
“No! Please, hear me out.” Cedric’s eyes were wide with fear. Will saw tears glimmering at the corners. “The sheriff said he’d kill my family if I didn’t kill Robin Hood. My deadline is up in two days’ time.”
“That is unfortunate,” Marian said, her voice icy. “But we cannot allow you to harm Robin.”
Will bristled. Marian had nothing to do with this.
“You don’t understand,” Cedric protested. “Soldiers came last night and took my family away. I was hoping…hoping you could help me.”
“I don’t see how,” Will said. “As Lady Marian says, we can’t let you harm Robin.”
“We don’t need to.” Everyone turned and looked at Tuck. He had sidled in without anyone noticing.
“Robin?” Will began.
“Quite safe. Alan, Much and Edward are with him. Now then, the sheriff wants Robin dead. He sends an assassin to finish the job. I say we give him what he wants.”
“You’re making no sense,” Will snapped.
“No, he’s right,” Marian said. “If we can convince Gisborne that Robin is dead, then he’ll let Cedric’s family go.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?” John said.
It was Tuck who answered. “We hold a funeral. Cedric tells Gisborne. Gisborne comes to view the body. We give it to him.”
John was clearly having trouble following the conversation. “And what will he see? Robin lives.”
“We can make him appear dead,” Tuck said.
“The poppy syrup,” Will finished for him. “He’s half insensible from the stuff most of the time anyway. We just have to make sure he’s out of it long enough to be convincing.”
Understanding dawned in John’s eyes. He released Cedric, who let out an audible sigh of relief as the knife left his throat.
“What if Gisborne kills my family anyway?”
“Then you’ve nothing to lose.” Will’s voice was hard. “Help us, and you have a chance. Otherwise, you’ll not leave here alive.”
Cedric nodded.
“Will Abbess Evelyn agree?” Will asked Marian.
“I will speak to her. I’m sure she’ll understand. We can hold the funeral tomorrow.”
John escorted Cedric out, leaving Will and Marian alone. Marian’s face showed nothing but hostility.
“Once Robin is recovered, will you take him back to Sherwood?”
Will’s hand was on the door. “He’s not safe anywhere else. That’s where he’ll want to go.”
“Take me with you,” she said.
Will shook his head. “You asked Robin that once before. He told you no, and he’s right.”
“You speak for him?” Marian’s face twisted with contempt. “This…this feeling you have for him, it’s unnatural, godless.”
Will matched her contempt with his own. “Is this jealousy talking, My Lady?”
“What do I have to be jealous of? I’m not the one who is panting after him in secret.”
Will smiled sardonically. “I’ve known Robin since we were lads. There’s no one alive knows him better. If you’re thinking he’ll ride off into the sunset with you someday, you’re in for a disappointment. He doesn’t want you.”
Marian’s answering smile was sweet as honey. “Is that so? Then perhaps you can explain why the night before David betrayed you to Gisborne, Robin was with me in the abbey.”
Will’s heart gave a sickening lurch. For a moment, he was speechless, and Marian took full advantage.
“He’s a nobleman, Will Scathelock, whatever the sheriff says. He cannot run wild in Sherwood forever, and when he is accepted into society again, he will need me. Do you think, given the choice, that he will run away and live with you? Will he defy God’s law and the king’s? You are together from necessity, nothing more. I can wait. You’ll be left alone with your sordid little dreams.”
She was gone in a rustling of skirts, and Will was left standing there, for once in his life with nothing to say. Was she right? If, someday, King Richard came back to England and agreed to pardon Robin, would he return to Locksley? He had left before for Lucy’s sake, but there was no such obstacle in his way this time. With difficulty, Will pushed the worry to the back of his mind. They needed to get through the next few days first. Robin was still very weak, and they had to get Gisborne to believe he was no longer a threat if Robin was ever to have the chance he needed to heal. Everything would depend on the funeral tomorrow.
***
Cedric faced the sheriff and his captain. The hall was quiet but for the crackling of logs in the hearth and his thudding heart, which he was sure they must be able to hear. He had rehearsed his speech over and over. He only hoped he would be able to act his part convincingly.
“Robin Hood is dead, My Lord, as you ordered. I have upheld my end of the bargain.”
The sheriff pinned him with his merciless gaze. “How did he die?”
“Stabbed while he slept, My Lord.”
“And where were his outlaws? Did they not try to stop you?”
“There were only two outlaws there, My Lord, not counting the priest. I said I was a visiting friar who had heard of Robin Hood’s affliction and had come to perform the last rites. I was disguised. They didn’t question me. The priest, Father Tuck was excommunicated. He allowed me in to see Robin Hood. I was alone with him for a few minutes. It was easy. I told them I’d left him sleeping and escaped before they discovered the truth. Will you let my family go?”
“Where is your proof?” Philip Mark demanded. “We have only your word for this.”
Cedric held up a bloody jerkin. It was the one Robin had been wearing when he was wounded. The blood had dried long ago, but Cedric had asked a butcher of his acquaintance to soak it in pig’s blood. Gisborne eyed it with a hungry gleam in his eyes. Cedric knew he had him.
“The funeral is tomorrow at the abbey. I heard it in a tavern in the village where I stopped on the way home. Go if you don’t believe me and see the body for yourself.”
“I’ll do that, Cedric.” The sheriff’s voice was menacingly soft. “And if I find you’ve lied to me, you’ll watch your family die before joining them.”
***
Guy rode at the head of the procession of soldiers, scarcely able to contain his impatience. No matter how often his reason told him this was probably some elaborate hoax, the tiny seed of hope had taken root inside him. If it were true—if Locksley really was dead—then Prince John would be satisfied and his position secured.
He saw the same hope reflected on Katrina’s face. She had insisted on coming along, and Guy saw no reason to deny her.
Cedric rode at the rear, his face a sickly mask of anxiety. He should be worried. If he’d lied, then he’d scream for mercy before Guy was done, and Guy would give him none.
The abbey was silent, without the usual bustle of nuns going about their chores. No one was there to greet them and they approached the chapel and its graveyard unchallenged.
Here, a funeral was indeed under way. The few mourners were gathered in a cluster, and they looked around with varying degrees of fear and rage at the approach of horses. All the Kirklees nuns were present, Lady Marian and Ursula among them, as well as a ragged group of men and women Guy took to be Locksley’s outlaws. The coffin was on the point of being lowered into the earth.
“Stop!” Guy’s voice rang out, cutting short the Latin murmurs of Father Tuck, the ex-priest of Locksley.
Cries of consternation broke out among the small group of mourners. The nuns crossed themselves. The women moved into a protective huddle, and as one, the men’s hands flew to their weapons.
“What are you doing here, Gisborne?” Will Scathelock snarled.
“I heard the famous Robin Hood was dead. I came to pay my last respects.”
“To gloat, you mean,” Marian said. She wore the habit and wimple of a nun.
“Lady Marian. So you did join the holy sisters after all. You might perhaps like to know that Prince John saw fit to award me the earldom of Huntingdon.”
Marian’s eyes flashed. “He had no right. My lands became the property of the Church on my joining the abbey.”
“Enough,” Tuck cut in. “Sheriff, this is a funeral. We are laying our friend to rest. Surely even you can allow the dead to lie in peace.”
The smile dropped from Guy’s face. “Do not play me for a fool, Priest. Do you expect me to believe there is a body in that coffin?”
“I showed you the tunic,” Cedric babbled.
Philip Mark struck him in the stomach with his mailed fist, doubling him over.
“A bloody tunic,” Guy mocked. “You could have taken that from any beggar in the street.”
Cedric began mumbling incoherently, almost sobbing with terror. Guy ignored him.
“Of course Robin is in the coffin,” Tuck said.
“Then you will not mind opening it.”
There was an angry murmur among the gathered men. As one, they moved to surround the coffin in a defensive ring. The women, too, drew knives and moved to stand alongside them, while several nuns began praying.
At a single command from Philip, every soldier drew his sword.
One of the nuns let out a wail. Marian rested a comforting hand on her arm while continuing to look disdainfully at Guy.
Tuck tried again to reason with him. “There is no trick, My Lord. Robin Hood is dead, and this land is a poorer place for his passing.” His eyes fell upon Cedric, weeping with his face in his hands. “How dare you bring him with you? You bring Robin Hood’s killer to torment these good people.”
“Silence, Priest,” Guy snapped. “As I recall, you no longer have the authority to preside over any Church sacrament.”
Tuck flushed.
“If it’s a fight you want, Gisborne,” Will Scathelock drawled, “we’ll be happy to give you one.”
Guy gave the signal and his soldiers charged. The nuns scattered, running screaming for the abbey. Within seconds, the outlaws and the soldiers were engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand combat. The women also joined the fray. Marian swung a quarterstaff two-handed and succeeded in felling a soldier. Another seized the youngest of the women—a girl, really—by the hair, but a dagger thrown by the crippled outlaw burrowed into his arm and he released her. Even Tuck was giving a better account of himself than Guy would have expected. Katrina had moved to stand beside Guy, watching the battle with avid eyes.
