Fic: Passages
Sep. 8th, 2011 12:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roh_ficsTitle: Passages (28/?)
Characters: Robin, Djaq, Will, Allan, Guy of Gisborne, Little John, OCs (in approximate order of appearance)
Rating: R
Genre: Gen, het
Warnings: Mild sexual content
Notes: Many thanks, as always to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wenrom31, beta-reader extraordinaire, cheerleader, and friend.
Summary: Will and Djaq do plotty things.
Chapter 28. Asunder
Robin of Locksley sat on a rock, scratching something into the dirt with a stick. He’d been morose and out of sorts, but the news of King Richard’s capture had been just the thing he’d needed. It had roused him to action and given him a new purpose. He now had a plan, and more importantly, a new course for himself and his men.
Too long, this business of helping the king had been a vague proposal, a mere wish for a better world than they lived in. Robin himself often doubted whether an England with Richard at the helm was necessarily a good thing. Prince John was a clever man, cast mostly in his father’s mold, and perhaps in the end, he would prove better suited to the throne than his brother. But as Henry had run afoul of his barons and been forced to make friends with unsavory men, so John had put too much faith in creatures like Vaysey, who were like cancers on the face of the land. Richard, on the other hand, and despite his many faults, was a good man. He was not easily swayed from the right path, and with the influence of his mother and his loyal knights, he could do much good for England. Indeed, he’d have to, just to make up for the damage his absence had done to his people.
That would have to wait until the man actually came back to England, of course. And now, with his capture and ransom, his safe return was once again in deep doubt. Robin turned his attention to Djaq. She seemed on-edge, as did Will. It was a curious thing too, because it was mirrored almost exactly by Allan’s uneasiness. It made Robin question what they were keeping from him, but he trusted Djaq and Will too much to believe they’d be up to anything nefarious. He pushed aside his own disquiet and gave Djaq a questioning look.
“So what do you know about the ransom?”
She shrugged. “Not enough, I’m afraid. The details were…spotty.” She seemed about to say more when Allan interrupted.
“Yeah, and remember, we were just eavesdroppin’ and all. You can get a lot of stuff wrong that way.” He grinned, more sheepish than amused.
Will glared at Allan, and mumbled. “Yeah, you would know.”
Robin allowed himself a moment of amusement at their bickering before lapsing back into seriousness. “Well, whatever it turns out to be, we need money.”
“We could always steal it, like.” Peter of Doncaster had been a mostly silent witness to the conversation so far, and when he spoke, Robin startled. Then he relaxed and chuckled, but found no answering trace of amusement on the other man’s face. Well, then. Stealing it is.
“We need a plan.”
Djaq laughed. “You mean you don’t have one yet?”
“Fair enough. But I’ve always had you lot come up with something, so that’s what we’ll do now.” Thoughts began to race through his head at lightning speed, and he began to reel off names and tasks.
“Allan, get Little John back to Torloton. Find out what the villages have for weapons. Bows, arrows, knives, whatever you can find. If we do this, there’s going to be trouble, and we’ll need to make sure we’re armed.
“Will, we’re going to need boxes or chests, something to keep coin in. But be clever about it. We don’t want anyone else to know we have money.” He waited until the sullen expression on Will’s face cleared and he could see the younger man’s eyes turn bright at the prospect of a job, a real task.
“And Djaq. When you get back to the priory, tell Much I need a full account of his food supplies, and how many people he expects to feed there this winter.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully before continuing. “I was going to do this myself, but you might as well. Write a letter to the abbot at Kirklees, only as if it’s from me. Tell him what you’ve heard and that the king will need to be ransomed somehow.”
Djaq frowned at him. “Is that safe? Are you certain he’s your…er, ally?”
“I’m not certain at all. But friend or foe, you’ll only be telling him the truth, and his reaction will confirm whose side he’s on.”
Djaq nodded, although the look of doubt did not leave her face. Robin ignored it, having long-resigned himself to having only half-a-plan and working through the rest of it as it came to him. Djaq was clever enough to understand where he was going, but she had only a shallow understanding of the political machinations at play in England, and in a way, the less she knew, the better it would be. For the king, for Robin and even for Djaq herself.
He stuck the stick back into the dirt. “We’ll meet back here in a week’s time, and you can tell me whatever else you hear. True or otherwise. Understood?”
Satisfied only when each of them had considered his words and nodded approval, Robin dusted off his breeches and walked back into the woods, Peter following close behind him.
—
Djaq pulled her knees up to her chest and moved closer to Will. By the time they’d been ready to leave and make their way back to their respective billets, it had been too dark to walk through the forest, and they’d decided to simply spend the night at the old camp. It had been amusing at first, but then the rain had come. The camp roof was in desperate need of repair, and water poured through gaping holes in the rushes, drenching them to the bone.
They’d finally found a corner in the back of the camp where the ground was only a bit damp and where the rush-covered roof was still holding up. It was too wet to build a fire and too noisy to sleep, so they’d settled for just cuddling together to keep warm and talk.
“So what is the problem with this pack you have?”
Will looked sheepish. “It’s…nothing. Just something I found in the woods.”
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Allan seemed very curious about it though.”
“Yeah. But Allan’s curious about everything that isn’t his business.”
Djaq laughed. “You are very silly when it comes to Allan. Whatever it is that happened between you, it’s in the past now. You should let it go.”
Will met her eyes, but in the darkness she could not discern the expression on his face. “That’s just it. I’m not so sure it’s all in the past.”
She frowned at him. “What does that mean? What does that have to do with this mysterious pack?”
“It’s just…it’s hard to explain. Someone had it who shouldn’t have had it, and I think Allan knows about it.”
“Because?”
Will bristled. “I don’t know! Because Allan’s a thief.”
Djaq was appalled at the accusation, but a moment later, she laughed. “So what? We’re all thieves. We steal from all the people who come through the forest.”
Will frowned, silent and sullen for a long while. When he spoke up, his gaze was so intense that Djaq had to look away, even in the darkness. “What’s the point of all this?”
She stared back, confused. “Of what?”
“Of what we do? Of stealing. Or fighting. For the poor, for the king, whatever?”
“It’s…” She hesitated, realizing she’d never thought of it as more than a chance to help others and somehow end the strife in her own land. “I think it’s good that we help those who can’t help themselves, that we help bring justice to the world—”
“Yeah, that’s fine. But what happens after all that?”
“After?” Djaq shook her head, uncertain where Will was going, and uncomfortable with the pain in his voice. She put a hand on his knee. “Will, what is it you want?”
He shrugged off the hand. “I want to be a man.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “We do all this so there’ll be justice in the world, yeah? So there’ll be peace, and we don’t have to be outlaws anymore. So we can be real men.”
He put a hand to his head. “I’m sick of all this. I want to be a man, a real man. The sort of man who can take care of himself, of his wife.” He grunted in exasperation and threw a twig at one of the corner poles in the camp. The noise startled Djaq and she jerked away from him. He caught the movement and was immediately mollified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No.” She sidled back close to him, snaking her arm through his. “I understand. But you shouldn’t worry. You don’t have to take care of me. I’m—”
He gripped her hand, and his hold was so tight it was almost painful. “I do. I know that you take care of yourself, that you always have. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it too.” He looked her right in the eye and this time, Djaq found she could not look away. “You’re all I have now. You and the baby, and I want to be able to take care of you.” He was shaking in frustration, and she ran a hand along his arm to calm him down. “I want a home, a real home. A family. I just…” His voice trailed off, but Djaq could see he was miserable and she hugged him close.
“Shh, shh. I know. It will be alright. I promise.”
—
On the road to Torloton
Will sat on a tree stump, whittling a twig. Chips of wood flew angrily off the edge of his knife as he tried to gather his thoughts. It had been half-a-day since he’d set out from the old camp back to Torloton, but a driving rain had forced him to take shelter. There had not been much cover in that part of Sherwood, and eventually, he’d settled for this old tree stump and the hood of his cloak. Neither had done him much good, and he was now sopping wet and miserable. To top it off, he was no closer to figuring out the mystery of Anne and her pack. He had hoped to make it back to the camp by nightfall, so he could confront her with it, but the sun was already low in the sky and he was nowhere near the caves yet.
He sighed and tossed the twig onto the ground, finding a longer piece of wood to work with instead. He had put it off as long as he could, but now, he had no choice but to stop and contemplate the day’s events. He’d been surprised—nearly as surprised as Robin—to hear of the king’s kidnapping, and he was perturbed that Gisborne was the one who’d delivered the news to Djaq. Will wondered how Gisborne had even heard the news. The man was not close to the seat of power anymore, so it seemed strange that he’d know of the king’s whereabouts when even Robin did not. More, however, he was upset and worried that Gisborne had tapped Djaq as his messenger. Will did not know why exactly, but he could not keep down the feeling that her involvement could only be a bad thing.
He’d meant to talk her out of it, tell her to stop because she’d already done her part. Let Gisborne take care of Gisborne’s salvation. But once they’d reached the old camp and he’d seen how tired she looked, he’d decided to keep his worries about the situation to himself. In the end, she’d ended up being more concerned about him anyway. He’d wanted to tell her about what he’d learned about Anne, what he thought Allan had to do with it all. But he did not know the whole story yet, and without all the details, he hadn’t been able to muster the right words.
But he had said other things to her, and he cursed himself roundly for them. It was not in Djaq’s nature to be angry with him, not really, but he’d probably left her thinking he was afraid of fatherhood—and the worst of it was this was not necessarily a lie. The child itself did not really scare him, of course. He’d been around babies before, and they were innocent and helpless. But they were also deserving of love and guidance, of parents who knew enough to teach their children the difference between good and evil, between right and wrong. His own father had been such a good man. Will had fond memories of Dan teaching him how to saw wood, how to catch fish in the river, even how to be polite and respectful of the women in the village.
But in the end, Dan had been a slave to his circumstances. Crippled by poverty and injustice, he’d allowed others to control how he lived his life. In that instant, it had not been Dan but Robin who had shown Will—indeed, all of them—the way. For all his recklessness, his stubborn refusal to see the world as others did, Robin had shown them it was possible to stand up for what you believed in, to fight against those who wanted to trample on you. That was the difference between Robin and other men in the end. Robin was a man of conviction, of action. Dan was a…
The knife slipped and nicked Will’s hand, and he dropped it in shock. It was not the sight of blood but the sudden realization that had surprised him. Dan was a father. Whatever else he’d been in his life—apprentice, master craftsman, serf—it must have all paled in significance before the real charge laid for him. He’d raised his sons as well as he could, and if he’d never risen up against those with more power, it was not because he’d been afraid of the consequences, but because he could not afford to lose the two lives that mattered most to him.
So that’s it then. Your job is to fight, but not for yourself. Not for the king. Not for the poor. For Djaq. For the baby. That’s all.
—
Somewhere near Newstead
Djaq kept a brisk pace, ignoring the cramping in her legs from sitting too long, or the sharp hunger pangs she was beginning to feel. She shot a dark look at Allan, walking beside her, and for once, in complete silence.
“You don’t have to follow me. I can walk through the forest without falling down and breaking my neck!”
Allan looked sheepish. “Look, it’s not like I don’t know that. I know you can take care of yourself. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need help.”
Djaq ignored the creeping discomfort she felt at the sharp echo of Will’s words in Allan’s speech. She put her arms on her hips and stared him down, willing herself to look defiant instead of petulant. “What do I need help with?”
Allan matched her, stare for stare, and then smirked. “Lots of things. But for now, we’ll just stick with Gisborne.”
Djaq feigned ignorance for a moment, but realized quickly that Allan would see through such an obvious evasion. “And how do you intend to help me on that score?”
“Well, I know where we can find him, for starters.”
She goggled. She’d been hoping to find some sort of missive or message from Gisborne, instructing her where they could meet next, but apparently, even Allan was privy to more information than that. “How…how do you know?”
“He’s lodgin’ at a tavern near Blidworth. One of my men—er, one of the lads in the gang—he tracked him down.” Allan shuffled his feet before giving Djaq a pointed look. “And I worked for Gisborne, remember? I know how his mind works.”
She was about to dismiss Allan’s remarks with a snigger, but it struck her that Allan was at least partly right. He did have more insight into Gisborne than almost anyone else, and maybe that was worth mining. She considered Allan for a long moment, speaking only after she was certain he was aware of her scrutiny. “It is very hard for me to understand Gisborne. I don’t know how…why…he did what he did.”
Allan shuffled his feet, not meeting her eyes at first. But after a while, he gave a resigned shrug. “I don’t think he meant to do it. It was just…an accident.”
Djaq gaped at him, appalled at his easy dismissal of Gisborne’s greatest crime. “An accident? So he pulled out his sword, and Marian just happened to be in the way?”
Allan hesitated before answering. “I just don't think he meant to do it.”
Djaq scoffed. “Yes, that's a good excuse for everything, isn't it?”
“No, that's not what I meant. I think he really cared about Marian.” Allan paused, giving Djaq a pleading look, begging for her to understand. “I think he loved her. In his own way, I mean.”
Djaq kept her silence, if only to put Allan's mind at ease, but in truth, she could not understand a love so dark it would move a man to kill. Perhaps it was blood lust, perhaps it was madness, but it was not love. She shivered at the thought, and tried to change the subject, but Allan was not quite done yet.
“The thing is, he always tried to help her, protect her. You know? From the Sheriff, from other people who wanted to use her, from the noose.” He gave her a small, sad smile. “Even from herself sometimes.”
Djaq nodded. If there had ever been a woman who needed to get out of her own way...
Something Allan said leapt back at her. “The noose?”
Allan cleared his throat, nervous but keen to share. “Yeah. He found out she was the Nightwatchman, see. The Sheriff knew about the arrest and wanted a hanging.”
“He knew?”
“Yeah. But Giz helped her get away. Well, we helped her get away.” Allan laughed, the sound echoing sadly through the forest. “Not far enough away, mind.”
“No,” added Djaq, saddened again by Marian's senseless death and the renewed sense that it could have been avoided. If only Marian had stayed with the gang in the forest; if only she'd realized she couldn't save Gisborne, not least from himself. If only...
She turned to Allan. “You never told Robin? That Gisborne knew about Marian and the Nightwatchman?”
Allan had the sense to look away. “I...I wanted to, but the time was never right. And then I couldn't really see the point to it.” He gave her another pleading look. “You have to remember, we all thought Gisborne was dead, long gone!”
Djaq nodded, temporarily without a good response to Allan's logic. She fell silent and started to walk away, Allan falling in beside her. They traveled a good distance before either of them spoke, their silence full of the noise of doubt and uncertainty. At length, Djaq felt tired, and sat down heavily under a tree. “I am hungry.”
Allan laughed. “We just ate.”
She snapped at him. “So? We have been walking all over the forest. And we ate hours ago!”
“You sound like Much now.”
Djaq swallowed the words on her tongue, and allowed that Much's obsession with food was humorous, if only in the sad, desperate way of all their lives these days. Besides, Allan had no reason to suspect why she needed food so badly, so she shrugged off his mockery, digging into her pack to retrieve bread from that morning.
She chewed thoughtfully as Allan made tracking marks on the trees. That's clever of him. In spite of all her time in the forest, she'd never learned even the basics of tracking through the woods. Allan, on the other hand, was an expert, better than anyone but Little John. It made her wonder what he'd been up to in the world before Robin had found him. She let her thoughts wander as Allan finished up and dropped himself on to the ground next to her.
“We should take shelter. Or we'll be swimming home soon.”
She spoke around the food in her mouth. “You know something? I don't know how to swim.”
“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised, but the expression cleared and was instantly replaced by one of mischief, a dark twinkle in Allan's eyes. “I could teach you. I'm good at it.” He shrugged meaningfully. “You'd have to take your clothes off, of course.”
Djaq nearly choked on the last piece of her bread, but recovered quickly enough. “Maybe another time.” She stood and dusted herself, taking great satisfaction in Allan's open-mouthed gape. She walked away and called back to him. “You better close your mouth. Before a tree branch falls into it.”
Allan stammered in response and scrambled to his feet, quickening his pace to catch up with her. He spoke haltingly, more nervous than she'd ever seen him. “Would you really?” A look of alarm flitted across his face. “I mean, let me teach you how to swim, that is.”
Djaq chuckled. “I do not think that's what you meant. And no, I would not.” Too late, she realized she'd probably wounded him, and she tried to soften the blow. “Swimming seems quite useless in England, when it is so cold and rainy.”
Allan laughed in a subdued way. “Yeah, and besides, Will would probably kill me.”
“There is that.”
Once again, they became quiet as they made their way to the forest, and this time, Djaq could barely hear the forest over the din of unspoken thoughts, Allan's and her own. It was Allan who made the first move.
'Djaq,” he began. “If I ask you something, just one thing, will you answer it. Honestly, I mean?”
She stopped in her tracks, almost certain where Allan was going, but surprised to hear him give voice to his thoughts. She hesitated at first, but at length, she decided to let him speak his mind. It was good for his soul, if not for hers. “Yes, of course, Allan. Always.”
“Would you have ever...I mean, was there ever a chance. For you and me?” His voice trailed off, and he gave Djaq a pained look she'd never seen before.
For one frantic second, she considered lying to him, telling him what he wanted to hear, if only to erase the hurt from his face, his heart. But he'd asked her for an honest answer, and she would not give him false hope, not for the sake of convenience.
Djaq walked back to where he stood, looking so small under the canopy of trees. She reached up and cupped his face in her hand, and instinctively he leaned down towards her, expecting a kiss. But instead she laid her cheek against his and whispered. “You are my dearest friend, Allan. More than a friend, and you mean the world to me. Please let that be enough.”
He was stiff and her words brought him no comfort, so she wrapped her arms around his waist and stroked his back until she felt the tension leaving his muscles. She pulled away from him, but was dismayed to see the hurt look still on his face. Oh, Allah, give me strength.
She cast about for words to console him with, mere platitudes that would at least be a temporary salve. But Allan saved her the effort.
“It's alright, Djaq. I mean, I'm a grown man, and I've heard worse. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She gave him a weak smile and pointed at the trail. “Shall we?”
He nodded and fell into step next to her. “Just tell me this one thing. Why Will?”
Because he's truth and hope and all that I thought I'd lost in this world. But she could not quite speak the words that ran through her mind, so she shrugged. “I don't know, Allan. It just happened.”
–
Torloton
By the time Will arrived at the makeshift camp, the caves were just jagged shadows against the night sky. He was tired, still quite damp and wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a chance to sleep. But instead of the quiet sight he'd expected, he found a buzz of activity at the camp.
As he neared, Matthew hollered out to him. “Where have you been? We've been looking for you!”
“I wasn't gone that long!” Will yelled back. “Got stuck in the rain.”
“Well, get yourself inside now. There's work to do.”
Will trotted up to the mouth of the cave, pleased to see a fire going and the men sharing a stew of some sort. A bowl was thrust into his hand, and he knelt by the fire, shoveling food into his mouth until he felt like himself again. He chewed hastily and spoke around a mouthful of bread.
“What's going on here anyway?”
“Little John's back. He wants us to make rounds of the villages to get information. Wouldn't say why, mind.” Matthew laughed. “But we don't ask questions, we just do as we're told.”
“A good plan.” He tried to stick with the light mood in the camp, but if John was already doing what Robin had asked, then news traveled fast in Sherwood indeed, faster than even men did. Will's mind was awhirl. Did they have some intricate way of sending messages? Pigeons? No, it wasn't possible that so much had changed in the time he and Djaq had been away. There had to be something else. Or someone else.
He fingered the pack still lodged safely under his arm. If he was a betting man, he'd wager the girl Anne knew a thing or two about it. She was at the camp now, sitting quietly next to Brother David, signing words at him every now and then. The monk listened carefully, and it was an entirely different conversation that he'd ever seen the girl have with anyone else, even with signs.
Will waited for the commotion in the camp to die down, and as men finished their meal and the mouth of the cave became less crowded, he rose and made his way to Anne and David. She smiled brightly at first, but as he got closer, the expression changed and he noted her glance at the monk in alarm.
He dropped the pack at her feet. “Do you want to tell me what you're up to?”
Anne drew the pack quickly to herself and gaped at him, mute as ever. Will hissed in irritation. “And don't pretend you can't hear. I think you hear just fine, and you can probably speak too.”
She shook her head, looking frightened, and Will felt ashamed. It had not been his intention to frighten her, but he'd put the question out now, and he needed an answer. He tried to soften his voice. “Tell me what you're doing, why you have the Nightwatchman's things.”
“Leave her alone.” The monk rose and stood between Will and Anne. “She can't tell you anything. You know that.”
“I don't.” A new thought came to Will. “And what's your game here? Are you in on this with her?”
David smirked, but gave no answer, pushing Will to more anger. “You're probably not even Welsh. Or a monk. Is David even your real name?”
The monk laughed. “Well, two of three isn't all bad, wouldn't you say?”
Will frowned, confused by the jest and unsure how to react.
David dropped his voice to a whisper. “My name is David, and I am a Welshman.”
“So you're not...not a monk then?”
David laughed in response, but another voice, only a whisper, spoke for him. “No. Far from it, in fact. He's my husband.”
It was Anne.
–
Near Blidworth
Djaq drummed her fingers on the wood of the table, impatient and annoyed with herself for having taken such a chance. The last message she'd had from Gisborne was unclear, and he had not specified a time or a place for a meeting. But armed with Allan's information about Blidworth, she'd decided to take matters into her own hands.
Once she'd arrived at the inn where Gisborne was lodging, however, the bravado had receded a bit, and matters were made worse by the curious stares she was getting from a strange man on the other side of the room. She shivered, and across the table, Allan gave her a knowing smirk.
She glared at him. “This is your fault. You said he was staying here.”
“He probably is. Maybe he had to step out. Maybe he's havin' a bit of a kip.”
Djaq's fingers itched with a sudden desire to strike Allan, and she began to have sympathy with Will's views on their friend. Still, it was hardly Allan's fault that she'd decided to come to Blidworth uninvited, and it would serve her right if she were to return empty-handed. But her wounded pride was not the only thing at stake. She was desperate to gain some knowledge, insight into the king's capture, anything that would help Robin in his cause.
Allan leaned across the table. “I could help you, you know. If you asked me.”
Djaq glared at him, ready to put him down with a cutting remark. But this was also just the opening she was looking for. “That would be very helpful. Maybe you can ask the innkeeper.” Djaq eyed him meaningfully. “She seems just your type.”
Allan turned and gave the innkeeper a quick glance. “Maybe.” He winked at Djaq, but became serious a moment later. “Do you really need my help, or are you just trying to get rid of me.”
“Yes.”
Allan laughed. “You think you're pretty clever, and that's alright. Because you are clever and all. But be careful, alright?”
She put a hand over Allan's, reassuring him. Satisfied, Allan sauntered off to chat up the innkeeper, leaving Djaq to her own thoughts. She was annoyed with Allan, but mostly just with herself. This trip to Blidworth had been a whim more than anything, a chance to prove to Robin what she was capable of. Yet neither Robin nor any of his men had actually asked for proof, or even suggested a need for it, so she was at a loss to explain her own conduct. Her life was changing, of course, and there was a good chance this would be her last great adventure. That thought rankled and she pushed it away, not wanting the reminder of her womanly limitations.
She scrubbed at a stain on the table so fiercely that her fingers rubbed off a bit of the finish, and as she cursed herself, a voice behind her caught her attention. Gisborne...
“Has the table offended you?”
“No.” She crossed her arms defiantly and stared him down. “You're late.”
Gisborne did not answer, instead drawing up a chair and studying her carefully.
“Well?” Djaq asked, with some irritation.
“Well what?”
“Information. I assumed you had some.”
Gisborne laughed, a bitter edge to his mirth. “You sound like the Sheriff now.”
Djaq was appalled. “No, of course not. I'd never--”
“Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just...he always wanted to know everything, and always right away. Sometimes I think he cared more about knowing things than he did about money.” He paused, looking out of the window for several moments, lost in his thoughts. “The Sheriff would say that a man who didn't know things wouldn't have money either, I suppose.”
Djaq pondered his words. Gisborne was bitter, even angry, but the wistful tone of his voice was not lost on her either. He'd spent a lot of time with the Sheriff, after all. And if Allan could see good in someone like Gisborne, then perhaps Gisborne could see good in a man like the Sheriff.
“So what happened?” she asked.
“What?”
“With you and the Sheriff. You were once his most loyal man, and now you want to bring him to his knees.”
“That's a good thing, isn't it?”
“Good? Yes. Sensible? I don't know.”
He scoffed. “I've never been sensible, so it's hardly a surprise.”
“But why now? What's changed?”
Gisborne gave her a sharp look. “Everything. The world is...upside down. This is the only way to right it again. I'm going to put a dagger through his heart, maybe with Hood's help, maybe without. But at the end of the day, the Sheriff will be gone, and everything will be right again.”
“But it will not. You said so yourself before. There are hundreds of men just like the Sheriff.” She hesitated, worried about pushing him too far. “It's not really about helping Robin defeat him, is it? It is just...revenge, is it not?”
“Maybe.” There was anger in his eyes, a fury that Djaq thought might be unleashed against her. Instead, he banged a fist on the table and turned away from her. “They're true, you know. The rumors.” He laughed mirthlessly and the sound echoed dully in the near-empty room. “I did try to kill the Sheriff. But I didn't quite make it. Instead, he stabbed me and left me to rot in the desert.”
He turned back to her, eyes blazing, but voice low and soft. “But it isn't really about him, or even men like him. I don't care one wit about Hood either.” He scoffed. “In fact, if Robin of Locksley died tomorrow, I'd dance on his grave.”
Djaq startled, surprised by Gisborne's vehemence, the strength of his bile. “Do not say--”
“No, it's not about the Sheriff,” Gisborne went on, not even pretending to listen to Djaq. “It's about undoing the things he's done. The things I've done in his name. It's about...” His voice trailed off and a look of great pain crossed his face. “It's about doing the right thing, to honor her, to do something worthy of her.”
“Stop it,” Djaq interrupted. “You cannot speak of her. You cannot take her name like this. Not after what you've done.”
Gisborne slapped the table with such force that Djaq nearly jumped out of her seat. “Damn it! Don't you see? That's just why I have to speak of her, to do the things she wanted. It's the only way I can make up for it.”
Djaq bristled. “You think there's some way to make up for what you've done? You are mad if you think that anything short of--”
“Dying? Letting Hood kill me? Does that make up for it then?” He smirked. “Or is it just revenge?”
“No, that's...”
Gisborne relented a little, moving away from her, his manner softening as he spoke. “She wanted to do things, big things. Change the world, if she could. I didn't really understand that. I don't think Hood did either.
“So I want to help change it. I don't think it's too late.” He regarded Djaq frankly. “And I need Hood's help to do it. That's why you're here.”
Djaq nodded, trying to compose herself as Gisborne's emotional words and her own thoughts roiled inside her. “You have something to tell me?”
He nodded. “The ransom. It's been decided. The king's mother will take charge of it and travel with it to the Emperor.”
“And the money? She will raise it herself?”
“No, it's being raised here, by a new tax.”
Djaq groaned. Robin would not be happy about this. But then again, neither would the Sheriff, since this money would not benefit him. “How much? How long to collect it?”
“It's the same as the Saladin tithe.” He gave her a sad smile, and Djaq forced herself to return the gesture, the irony obvious to both of them.
“William de Longchamp, the king's chancellor, has been charged with taking the ransom to Aquitaine. But he and Prince John are not on good terms, and the Sheriff is in the prince's corner.”
“So? He's going to try to stop this Longchamp?”
“Yes. Longchamp travels south to France from his home in the north. He'll be carrying too much gold to travel inconspicuously, and he'll avoid the forest for fear of robbery.” Gisborne laughed. “That's more your area than mine, to be honest.”
Djaq smiled, allowing this was true. “So the Sheriff is going to steal the money before Longchamp gets to France, presumably.”
“Exactly. Hood needs to get to Longchamp first; take the money before the Sheriff gets wind of it.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Not much at all. Longchamp leaves Lincoln in two days. He'll be near Nottingham, somewhere on the Great North Road, by the end of the week.”
Djaq nodded. “Robin will think of something.”
Gisborne sputtered. “Yes, I'm sure he will.”
Djaq ignored the slight mockery in his voice. Gisborne and Robin could contest as they liked, but she wanted no part of it. The woman they were fighting over was long gone, and there seemed no point to their mutual hatred, beyond revenge. She sighed, deeply saddened by the whole thing and got up to leave.
Gisborne seemed to catch the change in her mood, and as she stood, he took hold of her wrist to keep her from leaving. He stammered a bit. “I...I don't know if you care. But I did love her, you know.” He laughed nervously and looked to her for some sort of approval.
Djaq was surprised to hear the echo of Allan's earlier words. This was not love. What sort of love bound a man instead of freeing him? What sort of love brought anger instead of joy? What sort of love was it that had to be endured instead of enjoyed? Poor man. But he'd never know the difference, and she wasn't about to shatter his illusions.
She nodded sadly, pulling her wrist out of his grasp. “Yes, I imagine you did love her. In your own way.”
–
Will looked from Anne to David and back to Anne, his surprise keeping his mind from being able to work out a response. He sputtered, searching for the right words, but gave up when a stupid sounding “Eh?” was the only thing that came out. He settled for a raised eyebrow and an unspoken question.
“I suppose we need to explain ourselves,” David added, more amused than angry. Anne, on the other hand, seemed genuinely upset to have been discovered.
She spoke in a whisper. “I'm sorry. But I can't be seen talking. Do you understand?” Will noted she had a different accent than David, almost French, and with her low tone, that made her even harder to hear. But he got the general idea, and nodded. Relieved, she loped away to a different corner of the cave, the pack secure under her arm.
David said nothing, watching her intently as she walked away. After several quiet moments, he turned to Will. “Do you know that feeling? You look at a woman, for the first time or maybe even the thousandth time, but something happens, and you can't even remember your own name?”
Will chuckled. If there was a man in the world who knew that feeling exactly, it would be Will himself. He felt a dull ache in his chest and a lump in his throat, a reminder of how much he missed Djaq. He tried to shake off the feeling by focusing his attention on David. “So what's the story? You're not a monk.”
“No. In fact, I'm a prince of sorts.”
“Really?”
David chuckled at Will in the good-natured way of a shared joke. “But being a prince in Wales is a lot like being a peasant in England, so it's not saying much, mind you.”
“And her?”
“She's nobody. She's really called Emme, but the name's never been important. Not to her anyway.” He leaned towards Will and whispered conspiratorially. “And I was a monk once. Or at least I was going to be.”
“What happened?”
“She did. Once I'd seen her, it felt like I'd already found what it took other men a lifetime to discover through prayer. I couldn't forsake all my worldliness for God after that.”
Will nodded. “What are you doing here then? Why are you even in England?”
“We had to leave Wales. There was a bit of a scandal, with a monk running away with a girl and all.” David scratched his chin thoughtfully before going on. “As to what we're doing here? Well, we're keeping an eye on Robin of Locksley. On behalf of the king.”
Will was aghast. “Why? Robin's always been loyal to the king. Before anyone else.”
David hesitated, but met Will's eyes evenly. “Well, to be honest, it's not really Robin we're concerned about. It's the men around him. Not just his gang, mind you. But the lords and the ladies who claim to be his friends, whose cause he furthers in the name of King Richard.”
“So you're spies then?”
“I don't like that word, I must admit. But yes, I am. So is Anne.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “Who else?”
“Nobody.”
“Liar.”
David laughed. “Alright. Just two others. Peter of Doncaster. You know him?” He did not wait for Will to acknowledge. “I'm sure you do. He's a bit hard to miss, what with the scar and the hard manner.”
“And?”
“A woman called Mary Baxter. In Newstead, although to be fair, she was already at the priory, baking bread, long before the rest of us came to the forest.”
Will considered all the information. “But if all you need to do is know who surrounds Robin, maybe even warn him, why not just do it straight up? Why all the disguises and the secrecy?”
David laughed again, but this time, mockery was apparent in the sound. “Don't know much about being a spy, do you?”
“You'd be surprised.”
David raised an eyebrow, a bit thrown by Will's answer. “Well, there's a trick to being a spy, see? You have to get men to speak to you, or at least around you. And in an open and honest way.”
He gave Will a pointed look, and after a moment, Will looked away, remembering that he'd done nearly the same thing with so many men in Acre. He'd tried to persuade them to see things his way, and he'd done it by hiding his real thoughts while pretending to care about theirs. Only I wasn't really pretending, was I? I did care... The voice in his head did not sound convincing even just to him.
David spoke on, unaware of Will's inner battle. “You can pretend to be deaf, so men will speak their mind without paying you any attention. You can bake bread and win the trust of many a hungry man. You can look so frightening that no man would ever consider lying to you.” His voice trailed off, and Will was glad for the moment of silence, because it gave him a chance to piece everything together.
David fingered the fabric of his cowl. “I'm a monk, or I pretend to be one. The robe inspires trust, the crucifix I carry invokes faith. I find most men desperate to confide in a man with a direct connection to God.”
“But you're lying to them, about what you are. And when you're discovered--”
“If we're discovered...”
“When you're discovered, the men you lied to will be shattered. They'll think you betrayed them.”
“You intend to tell Robin?”
“I have to. He doesn't like his men keeping secrets from him.” The words made Will uncomfortable, a sudden reminder that he was not being entirely honest with Robin either. And Djaq was keeping her share of secrets as well. “I have to tell him about the Nightwatchman business, at least.”
“Ah, that one, at least, was not our idea. It was Allan's plan.”
Will sighed. Of all the things he'd learned today, this was the least shocking. “Of course it was Allan's idea.”
David sighed in return. “You shouldn't be so hard on Allan. He's...a good man. His heart is in the right place.
“More than that, he knows how to get things done. And if he's not always perfectly honest or scrupulous, so what?”
Will bristled. “What's wrong with being honest? Or scrupulous?”
“Nothing,” David shrugged. “But there are no rewards for poor men who are honest.”
“It's supposed to be its own reward.”
“Is it?”
Will frowned. He felt cornered, like David had deliberately pushed him to admit to things he hadn't even considered before. He shrugged. “I...I don't know about all that. I just know this business with the Nightwatchman...it's wrong. I have to tell Robin.”
“Why?” David pressed on. “What does it have to do with Robin anyhow? Allan told us the Nightwatchman had been bringing the poor succor long before Robin ever did. Is it so terrible that someone should don the mantle again?”
Will shook his head and was about to add that his own family had felt the Nightwatchman's generosity, but a new thought came bursting out of his mind. It gave Will a chance to ensnare David as that man had done to him not moments before. “Don't you ever wonder what happened to the Nightwatchman? The real one, I mean.”
David gave Will an odd look. “I...I suppose I never thought to ask. I assumed that whatever man had done the deed before, he was gone.”
“Gone alright. Dead.” Will moved in for the finish, surprised at the glee he felt at sparring with words and ideas. “And not a man either.”
“What?”
Will smirked. “Didn't you know? The Nightwatchman was a woman.” He stood and dusted himself off. “And not just any woman. Robin's woman. Marian.”
David gaped at him, too shocked to answer. Will decided it was wise not to press his victory too much. It was enough that David—and Anne—knew where they'd gone wrong.
He was nearly to the mouth of the cave when David's voice caught him. “Where are you going?” he asked, alarm clear in his voice. “Are you going to tell Robin?”
Will sighed. “No. I wanted to. But I changed my mind.” He turned and fixed David with his stare. “You used to be a monk. It's for you to decide how you make up for your sins.”
–
Several hours later
Djaq stood at the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree. She watched Will from a distance, enjoying the sight of him sitting on a gnarled tree stump, his hands busy with a new project. She sighed in contentment, glad that Will was the thing that awaited at the end of a day that had gone on just a bit too long. Allan had let her go into Locksley and then to the old camp by herself, but only with great reluctance. She'd practically had to threaten him with dire consequences just to get him to leave her be. In the end, he'd relented and she guessed it was at least partly because he knew she was off to see Will. She chuckled softly, amused by the fact that Will and Allan were so much alike, despite being so often at odds.
She watched as wood shavings flew off the stick Will was working with. Djaq was always amazed at how things took shape in his hands. Of course, the hands themselves were a marvel, moving constantly, scraping, whittling, making something out of nothing. She had a sudden memory of his hands in an entirely different context, against her skin, rough and callused, stroking and caressing, and she shivered in remembered sensation.
Djaq felt lightheaded and shook her head to clear it, calling out to him as she walked up to the tree stump. Will looked up as he heard her, his face breaking into a broad grin.
She held out her hands to him, happy to see the joy on his face. “You look happy.”
Will took her hands and pulled her quickly into his lap. "I am now." He kissed her through her giggles, and as she felt those wonderful hands make their way under her tunic, she sighed against his mouth, and surrendered all rational thought. His lips were warm as they drew away from her mouth and across her face to her neck, and then lower, into the hollow at her throat. She gasped, clutching at his shoulders, saying his name in a breathy
whisper.
And then, everything stopped. There was a different sensation now, new life asserting itself deep inside her womb. She'd never felt the baby move before, and it was a startling discovery.
“Will, stop!” She pushed him away and brought a hand immediately to her belly, worry and awe mingling in her mind.
He stopped at the sound of her voice, taking ragged breaths as he tried to compose himself. “What? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”
“I...I don't know. It's the baby. I think he moved.”
Will gaped in surprise, but recovered quickly, giving her a shy smile. “Can I feel?”
Djaq nodded, and he put his hand to her stomach. After a few moments, he shook his head in confusion. “I don't feel anything.”
“Maybe it will take a little longer,” Djaq said, distracted. As Will waited patiently, new thoughts swarmed Djaq's mind. She was having a baby. It was not the first time she'd ever thought about the being growing inside her, but it had been an abstraction, a vague concept for the future. Now, everything was different. It was a living, moving thing, and soon, it would come into the world. She was going to give birth to a wailing, squirming baby. In the forest. As an outlaw.
What were we thinking? What have we done? There was a lump in her throat and she could feel hot tears of despair forming in her eyes. With effort, she blinked them back, not wanting to worry him with her new-found doubt. She moved Will's hand away and ignored the obvious question in his eyes.
“You know what? We need to go now.”
He frowned. “What? Right now?”
“Yes.” She tried to brush off her own anxiety and gave him a bright smile.
Will narrowed his eyes at her, not fooled by the attempt at false cheer. “We can't live in Sherwood anymore, can we?”
“No.”
–
A day later
Torloton
Will sawed through a long piece of wood, letting it fall to the floor with a thunk when he was done. He leaned back and stretched, letting out an almost contented sigh. With Matthew's help, he'd managed to collect wood and frame the chests Robin wanted. He'd had to remind himself to keep it simple and functional, but Robin had charged him with finding a way to store coin while also hiding it, and that would need a lot more planning. He'd spent the best part of the last hour thinking about it, but nothing had come to him. The most obvious solution was to give the chest a false bottom, but that was too simple, and Will felt, less elegant a solution than he would have liked.
He sighed and kicked the sawn piece of wood away, letting his mind turn to other things. He'd been worried about Djaq since they'd parted a day ago. He'd been pleased she'd come to the same conclusion as him, that they could no longer live in the forest and still be a family, but he could not shake the feeling that leaving was still a last resort for Djaq, the thing she would do only if no other path was left to her.
As far as he knew, and despite her newfound fear, Djaq had little desire to leave Sherwood, and if she ever agreed to the proposition, it would only be to make him happy. But that was the last thing he wanted. He could not imagine a worse fate for Djaq than being pushed to do something out of fear. She'd spent half her life in mortal danger, but she'd always met it headlong. He'd just have to accept living in the forest . There were babies born in strange places all the time, and if anything, living in Sherwood might protect the babe from the sicknesses that spread so quickly in most towns and villages. Plus, they'd be in Robin's care and surely he'd never let anything happen to them...
His reverie was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. It was Matthew.
“We done here, Will?”
Will shook his head. “We still have to figure out a way to hide coin in the chest, if we need to.”
“Just make a false bottom?”
“Yeah, I thought of that. But what if there's a lot of coin? The false part would need to be nearly as big as the whole chest. It would be pretty easy to figure out where the money was, yeah?”
Matthew nodded. “What if you put the false bottom somewhere else?”
“What? Like in the top? Instead of the bottom?” Will guffawed, but felt bad a moment later when he caught Matthew's crestfallen face. He thought of words that might take some of the sting out of his mockery, but his mind took him elsewhere, to a brand new idea. He gaped at Matthew, and then grinned, clapping the lad hard on the shoulder.
“Of course! You're a genius. I can't believe I didn't think of it myself. Not in the bottom, indeed.”
Matthew frowned, clearly pleased by the compliment but unsure where Will was going. Will laughed and tried to explain himself.
“We'll put it in the sides of the chest. We'll make a chest with false walls instead of a false bottom. And we'll make the posts hollow and use those to hide coins too.”
Matthew's face lit up. “That's brilliant. You're the genius.”
Will colored predictably at the compliment and shrugged it off. “Nonsense. You thought of it, and now you're going to help me make it.” He surveyed what they'd done so far. “We'll have to get more wood, of course.”
They headed out of the caves and into the daylight, right into a bustling crowd. Half the camp was milling around and talking, their voices mixing into a low buzz as they all spoke at once. He could see both Allan and Little John in the crowd, but he could barely make out what any of them were saying. Fortunately, Allan made the problem go away, by letting out a sharp whistle blast that quietened the crowd immediately.
Allan grinned and then punctuated his moment of triumph. “Shut it, yeah? We've got important stuff to tell you.”
Little John cleared his throat. “Robin's asked us to go to France.” He hesitated and watched the tops of his boots for a minute before clearing his throat again and starting over. “We're off to Aquitaine, to see Queen Eleanor and save the king.”
Will gaped in surprise. He couldn't think of any two of Robin's men less suited to the task. John was a good man, of course, but he’d lived so long in the forest, he'd never be mistaken for anything but an outlaw. And Allan? To Will, that was the same as setting a fox amid the chickens. What was Robin thinking?
He raised an eyebrow, more confused than curious. Allan caught the gesture and came over. From the expression on his face, however, it was clear to Will that Allan was not particularly pleased about the day's events.
“So. You're off to Aquitaine.”
“Yeah.” Allan smirked, although there was a wistful tone to his voice. “Can't you just see me at court?”
“No,” Will added, with more good nature than he'd intended at first. “So...”
“You want to know why in Hell Robin would send me to do anything important?”
Will said nothing, wisely choosing not to admit to anything that Allan could throw back at him later.
“Well, he had to send someone.” Allan called out to Little John. “It's not like Big Bear here can really travel on his own.”
Little John frowned. “I could. I'm strong enough to--”
Allan chuckled. “You can't just be knocking people over with your staff, you know. Sometimes you need to be a bit more...delicate, like.”
John snorted. “Yeah. You're delicate alright,” he added, tapping his temple gently and rolling his eyes.
Allan mocked being hurt. “Make fun all you want. But if you're going to have brawn along, you need some brain too.”
Will allowed—a bit grudgingly—that Allan's particular skills might actually be useful on a journey to France. It was like David had said before. Whatever other faults he might have, Allan was a man who knew how to get things, how to talk to people. Little John would keep him on the right path, so there was little chance for Allan to be tempted in his usual way. A voice in Will's brain piped up. You're being unfair. Give him a chance.
He watched as the other men surrounded Allan and Little John, full of questions and congratulations. Will sensed it was not quite the right moment to speak to either man, so he dropped back, happy to be away from the noise and the crowd. The wood for the coin chests was not going to collect itself anyhow. He strapped on his long axe and set off.
Will was certain he'd slipped away unnoticed, but after just a few minutes, he caught sight of the two shadows that had followed him into the woods. He wheeled on them, ready to give them a piece of his mind, but the sheepish look on the faces of both Anne and David made him temper his words.
“So you're following me? Again?”
Anne shrugged. “To be fair, it's really the first time we've followed you.”
“Not suspicious enough for you?” Will asked.
She crossed her arms in a show of defiance. “Not important enough.”
Will was more amused than hurt, and he chuckled. “Fair enough. It's true I'm not very important.”
David narrowed his eyes. “Oh, but you are. In your way.”
“You only say that because you're worried I'll talk to Robin.”
Anne bristled. “We're not worried--”
The rest of her words were cut off by her husband. “What she means is that we're not afraid. Of you. Or of Robin of Locksley. But we have a mission, a charge. And we can't do what we set out to do if you tell Robin everything.”
Will sighed. “For some reason, I thought you'd decide differently. That you'd want to tell him. Because you're an honest man. Or at least you must have been one. Back when you were still...”
“A man of the Church? Well, I was an honest man. And I still am, and I daresay more so than most men of the Church.”
“Then why don't you just tell Robin?”
“Only the sinner confesses, and I have committed no sin.” David stared at his feet for a long time before speaking, the silence punctuated only by his breathing and by mumbled words from Anne that Will could not make out.
When he spoke again, there was regret in David's voice. “But I concede that what we've unwittingly hurt Robin. I think the knowledge would wound him more though, so I won't tell him.” He gave Will a pointed look. “Do you understand?”
Will nodded. “Fine. Why are you telling me all this? It makes no difference to me.”
David seemed troubled, so Anne spoke for him. “We feel bad for all that's happened. But we want to make amends somehow. We thought maybe we could go to France. With the others.”
“With Allan?”
“Yes. And maybe you could talk to Allan and Little John on our behalf,” David added. “Persuade them that we'd be useful.”
“Why do you want to go?”
“It is our...atonement, if you will. We can help Robin from afar, and keep him out of trouble. But we'll put the Nightwatchman to bed, and we won't spy on his men. Not anymore.”
“And the other spies? What about them?”
Anne shook her head. “They're on their own. They had no part in what we did, and we had no part in their actions.”
Will considered the two of them carefully. Anne did not seem particularly sorry for anything, but there was a desperation to her defiance, a wild look in her eyes that suggested fear. Probably afraid of what'll happen to her if Robin knows. Oddly, he felt no sympathy for her, nor any anger either. It was David's plight that moved him. Whatever the man had done, it had been for the love of a woman, and Will could not fault him for it.
He nodded sagely. “Fine, I'll ask Allan.”
Anne grinned broadly, more triumphant than grateful. David said nothing, but as Will began to walk away, he stood in his path and held out his hand. Will took it but was taken aback when he felt something cold and hard press into his palm.
He pulled his hand away and shook his head. “No, I don't need your coin. Consider it a favor.”
David smiled, and held his palm up so Will could see the thing he'd refused. “You misunderstand me. I do not buy your favor. Rather, I'd hope to give you mine.” He held up a flat circle of wax. “It's my seal. I told you I was a prince of sorts. It may open a door or two for you. Later in life, when you are done with outlawry perhaps.”
Will took it, fingering the raised letters. “Thank you. That's very kind.”
David nodded, and this time, it was Anne who held out her hand, clasping Will's forearm in a gesture of friendship. “I think it's a fair exchange. Thank you.”
They turned and walked away. Will watched them in silence, wondering about sacrifice and gratitude until the shadows began to grow and he set himself to chopping wood once again.
--
The sun had dipped in the western sky, and a lone torch had been lit outside the cave. Allan leaned on the wall of the cave, enjoying the cool of the rock on his back as he waited for the first star to appear in the sky. It was the first quiet moment he'd had in days, and he suspected it would be the last for a long while. He sighed in contentment, and drew in a long breath, trying to etch the smell and feel of Sherwood on his lungs.
But as he let the breath out, the sound of rustling leaves broke the serenity of the moment. He turned to find Will lugging an armload of firewood to the mouth of the cave.
“You need some help with that?”
Will shook his head and dumped the load of wood at the mouth of the cave. “No sense carrying it in anyway. I'm just going to whittle it down.”
Of course. What else would Will be doing anyway? But Allan wisely kept that thought to himself. “You don't have to chop it yourself, you know. Get one of the younger lads to do it.”
Will shrugged. “I needed something to do anyway.” He smirked at Allan. “I was getting a little bored of your celebration too.”
Allan laughed. “Worth celebratin', mate. I mean, think about it. If I go to Aquitaine, and the king's mother makes me a lord, you might have to raise your glass to my health and all. I'll be the new Sheriff.”
Will rolled his eyes. “I think you should worry about getting there first.”
“It's nothing, innit? Just a bit of travel over the sea and in France. Be there in no time. And Little John's staff will take care of the rest, I reckon.”
Will gave Allan a pointed look, worry in his eyes. “You don't really want to go, do you?”
“What makes you say that? It's the chance of a lifetime for me.” Of course I don't want to go. You just got back to England. And Djaq. She trusts me again...she always has.
Allan shrugged off the thoughts in his head. “Besides, I couldn't really say no to Robin, could I?”
Will said nothing, and they lapsed into a silence that would have been comfortable for any two other men. But there were a million unsaid things between him and Will, things that had a life of their own and made it impossible to be at peace.
“Listen,” Will's voice broke into the quiet. “Maybe you could take a couple of others with you. The monk David. Maybe the girl Anne too.”
Allan raised an eyebrow at him, although he suspected Will couldn't see the expression in the dark. Pieces of a puzzle began to come together. He nodded. “So you know about her then? About the Nightwatchman stuff?”
“Yeah.” Will scuffed the ground with his boot. “And I think I understand why you did it. But it has to stop.”
Allan offered no argument. There were a hundred reasons to stop, and a hundred more reasons to go on. But it was wrong, morally wrong, and that was the only thing that mattered to Will. He shrugged. “Fine. Stop it then.”
“They go to France with you, and it stops. Right?”
“What would I do with them? Two travelers is nothing, but four is a poncy pilgrimage. Especially when one of them's a monk.”
“He's not really a monk.”
“What?”
“It doesn't matter. You'll figure it out. But you need to take them with you. They could be useful. David can read. He talks like a nobleman. Maybe that helps. And Anne's good with a sword.” Will chuckled. “You made sure of that. And between you and her, you could probably steal most of what you need.”
Allan sniggered, allowing this was true. “And you don't think Robin will care that I took more of his men with me?”
“I'll explain it to Robin.” Will did not elaborate and Allan did not ask for an explanation.
Silence fell on them again. Allan could see a sliver of moon in the sky now, and the pale point of light that would brighten into the North Star. He willed himself to speak. Tell him he's as good as your brother, the one you should have had. He wanted to give Will sage advice of the sort an older man should give a younger man. But nothing came to him. And Will's already smarter than I am, in the ways that count...
“So when do you leave?”
Allan sighed. “At first light. Before all the men are up. Too bloody early, if you ask me.”
Will nodded, and then took Allan by surprise. “I'm going to miss you.” There was a wistful note to Will's voice, a hint of melancholy that carried over and landed on Allan like a giant cloak, at once both warm and sad. It was like the end of all things, and Allan felt a lump in his throat.
He tried to shake off the sadness. “Nah. No reason to miss me. I'll be back in the forest before you know it.”
Will shook his head. “I might not be here though.”
“You...you're leaving?” Alarm rose sharply in Allan's chest, clouding out his melancholy. “Why?”
“I can't stay here...we can't. Not now.” Will hesitated and cleared his throat before he went on. “We're having a baby. I mean, Djaq is. I mean—”
“What?” Allan let the words sink in. He thought about how tired Djaq had been, how she was hungry all the time. Of course!
He clapped Will gently on the shoulder. “That's bloody fantastic! I should have guessed, really. I can't believe you didn't tell me before.” He knew he was blabbering, but the words seemed to have a mind of their own, and he knew of no other way to hide his disappointment at being left out of another part of his friends' lives. “But why do you have to leave?” The question was barely out of his mouth, but he knew the answer already. Nobody wished outlawry on their children.
He raised an eyebrow at Will. “Have you told the others? Robin?”
Will shook his head. “Just you. Djaq wants to wait a while.”
“Well, I'm flattered then.” He grinned at Will. “And if it's a boy, you'll name him after me, of course.”
Will laughed. “Of course.”
Allan laughed with him, but after a moment, the heaviness in his heart returned. Even if Will and Djaq stayed in the forest, even if the three of them were reunited, things would never be the same again. They'd made themselves into a family, and he'd never be a part of it, never be more than the third wheel. It's just as well I'm leaving...
He felt suddenly tired, exhausted by his own loneliness, by the cloying happiness of his friends. “Listen, Will, I need to talk to Little John about the monk and Anne.” He ducked his head into the cave, but Will pulled him back with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Allan,” he said, his hand still clapped to Allan's shoulder. “Thank you.”
In their minds, the two men embraced.
–
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Characters: Robin, Djaq, Will, Allan, Guy of Gisborne, Little John, OCs (in approximate order of appearance)
Rating: R
Genre: Gen, het
Warnings: Mild sexual content
Notes: Many thanks, as always to
wenrom31, beta-reader extraordinaire, cheerleader, and friend. Summary: Will and Djaq do plotty things.
Chapter 28. Asunder
Robin of Locksley sat on a rock, scratching something into the dirt with a stick. He’d been morose and out of sorts, but the news of King Richard’s capture had been just the thing he’d needed. It had roused him to action and given him a new purpose. He now had a plan, and more importantly, a new course for himself and his men.
Too long, this business of helping the king had been a vague proposal, a mere wish for a better world than they lived in. Robin himself often doubted whether an England with Richard at the helm was necessarily a good thing. Prince John was a clever man, cast mostly in his father’s mold, and perhaps in the end, he would prove better suited to the throne than his brother. But as Henry had run afoul of his barons and been forced to make friends with unsavory men, so John had put too much faith in creatures like Vaysey, who were like cancers on the face of the land. Richard, on the other hand, and despite his many faults, was a good man. He was not easily swayed from the right path, and with the influence of his mother and his loyal knights, he could do much good for England. Indeed, he’d have to, just to make up for the damage his absence had done to his people.
That would have to wait until the man actually came back to England, of course. And now, with his capture and ransom, his safe return was once again in deep doubt. Robin turned his attention to Djaq. She seemed on-edge, as did Will. It was a curious thing too, because it was mirrored almost exactly by Allan’s uneasiness. It made Robin question what they were keeping from him, but he trusted Djaq and Will too much to believe they’d be up to anything nefarious. He pushed aside his own disquiet and gave Djaq a questioning look.
“So what do you know about the ransom?”
She shrugged. “Not enough, I’m afraid. The details were…spotty.” She seemed about to say more when Allan interrupted.
“Yeah, and remember, we were just eavesdroppin’ and all. You can get a lot of stuff wrong that way.” He grinned, more sheepish than amused.
Will glared at Allan, and mumbled. “Yeah, you would know.”
Robin allowed himself a moment of amusement at their bickering before lapsing back into seriousness. “Well, whatever it turns out to be, we need money.”
“We could always steal it, like.” Peter of Doncaster had been a mostly silent witness to the conversation so far, and when he spoke, Robin startled. Then he relaxed and chuckled, but found no answering trace of amusement on the other man’s face. Well, then. Stealing it is.
“We need a plan.”
Djaq laughed. “You mean you don’t have one yet?”
“Fair enough. But I’ve always had you lot come up with something, so that’s what we’ll do now.” Thoughts began to race through his head at lightning speed, and he began to reel off names and tasks.
“Allan, get Little John back to Torloton. Find out what the villages have for weapons. Bows, arrows, knives, whatever you can find. If we do this, there’s going to be trouble, and we’ll need to make sure we’re armed.
“Will, we’re going to need boxes or chests, something to keep coin in. But be clever about it. We don’t want anyone else to know we have money.” He waited until the sullen expression on Will’s face cleared and he could see the younger man’s eyes turn bright at the prospect of a job, a real task.
“And Djaq. When you get back to the priory, tell Much I need a full account of his food supplies, and how many people he expects to feed there this winter.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully before continuing. “I was going to do this myself, but you might as well. Write a letter to the abbot at Kirklees, only as if it’s from me. Tell him what you’ve heard and that the king will need to be ransomed somehow.”
Djaq frowned at him. “Is that safe? Are you certain he’s your…er, ally?”
“I’m not certain at all. But friend or foe, you’ll only be telling him the truth, and his reaction will confirm whose side he’s on.”
Djaq nodded, although the look of doubt did not leave her face. Robin ignored it, having long-resigned himself to having only half-a-plan and working through the rest of it as it came to him. Djaq was clever enough to understand where he was going, but she had only a shallow understanding of the political machinations at play in England, and in a way, the less she knew, the better it would be. For the king, for Robin and even for Djaq herself.
He stuck the stick back into the dirt. “We’ll meet back here in a week’s time, and you can tell me whatever else you hear. True or otherwise. Understood?”
Satisfied only when each of them had considered his words and nodded approval, Robin dusted off his breeches and walked back into the woods, Peter following close behind him.
—
Djaq pulled her knees up to her chest and moved closer to Will. By the time they’d been ready to leave and make their way back to their respective billets, it had been too dark to walk through the forest, and they’d decided to simply spend the night at the old camp. It had been amusing at first, but then the rain had come. The camp roof was in desperate need of repair, and water poured through gaping holes in the rushes, drenching them to the bone.
They’d finally found a corner in the back of the camp where the ground was only a bit damp and where the rush-covered roof was still holding up. It was too wet to build a fire and too noisy to sleep, so they’d settled for just cuddling together to keep warm and talk.
“So what is the problem with this pack you have?”
Will looked sheepish. “It’s…nothing. Just something I found in the woods.”
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Allan seemed very curious about it though.”
“Yeah. But Allan’s curious about everything that isn’t his business.”
Djaq laughed. “You are very silly when it comes to Allan. Whatever it is that happened between you, it’s in the past now. You should let it go.”
Will met her eyes, but in the darkness she could not discern the expression on his face. “That’s just it. I’m not so sure it’s all in the past.”
She frowned at him. “What does that mean? What does that have to do with this mysterious pack?”
“It’s just…it’s hard to explain. Someone had it who shouldn’t have had it, and I think Allan knows about it.”
“Because?”
Will bristled. “I don’t know! Because Allan’s a thief.”
Djaq was appalled at the accusation, but a moment later, she laughed. “So what? We’re all thieves. We steal from all the people who come through the forest.”
Will frowned, silent and sullen for a long while. When he spoke up, his gaze was so intense that Djaq had to look away, even in the darkness. “What’s the point of all this?”
She stared back, confused. “Of what?”
“Of what we do? Of stealing. Or fighting. For the poor, for the king, whatever?”
“It’s…” She hesitated, realizing she’d never thought of it as more than a chance to help others and somehow end the strife in her own land. “I think it’s good that we help those who can’t help themselves, that we help bring justice to the world—”
“Yeah, that’s fine. But what happens after all that?”
“After?” Djaq shook her head, uncertain where Will was going, and uncomfortable with the pain in his voice. She put a hand on his knee. “Will, what is it you want?”
He shrugged off the hand. “I want to be a man.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “We do all this so there’ll be justice in the world, yeah? So there’ll be peace, and we don’t have to be outlaws anymore. So we can be real men.”
He put a hand to his head. “I’m sick of all this. I want to be a man, a real man. The sort of man who can take care of himself, of his wife.” He grunted in exasperation and threw a twig at one of the corner poles in the camp. The noise startled Djaq and she jerked away from him. He caught the movement and was immediately mollified. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No.” She sidled back close to him, snaking her arm through his. “I understand. But you shouldn’t worry. You don’t have to take care of me. I’m—”
He gripped her hand, and his hold was so tight it was almost painful. “I do. I know that you take care of yourself, that you always have. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it too.” He looked her right in the eye and this time, Djaq found she could not look away. “You’re all I have now. You and the baby, and I want to be able to take care of you.” He was shaking in frustration, and she ran a hand along his arm to calm him down. “I want a home, a real home. A family. I just…” His voice trailed off, but Djaq could see he was miserable and she hugged him close.
“Shh, shh. I know. It will be alright. I promise.”
—
On the road to Torloton
Will sat on a tree stump, whittling a twig. Chips of wood flew angrily off the edge of his knife as he tried to gather his thoughts. It had been half-a-day since he’d set out from the old camp back to Torloton, but a driving rain had forced him to take shelter. There had not been much cover in that part of Sherwood, and eventually, he’d settled for this old tree stump and the hood of his cloak. Neither had done him much good, and he was now sopping wet and miserable. To top it off, he was no closer to figuring out the mystery of Anne and her pack. He had hoped to make it back to the camp by nightfall, so he could confront her with it, but the sun was already low in the sky and he was nowhere near the caves yet.
He sighed and tossed the twig onto the ground, finding a longer piece of wood to work with instead. He had put it off as long as he could, but now, he had no choice but to stop and contemplate the day’s events. He’d been surprised—nearly as surprised as Robin—to hear of the king’s kidnapping, and he was perturbed that Gisborne was the one who’d delivered the news to Djaq. Will wondered how Gisborne had even heard the news. The man was not close to the seat of power anymore, so it seemed strange that he’d know of the king’s whereabouts when even Robin did not. More, however, he was upset and worried that Gisborne had tapped Djaq as his messenger. Will did not know why exactly, but he could not keep down the feeling that her involvement could only be a bad thing.
He’d meant to talk her out of it, tell her to stop because she’d already done her part. Let Gisborne take care of Gisborne’s salvation. But once they’d reached the old camp and he’d seen how tired she looked, he’d decided to keep his worries about the situation to himself. In the end, she’d ended up being more concerned about him anyway. He’d wanted to tell her about what he’d learned about Anne, what he thought Allan had to do with it all. But he did not know the whole story yet, and without all the details, he hadn’t been able to muster the right words.
But he had said other things to her, and he cursed himself roundly for them. It was not in Djaq’s nature to be angry with him, not really, but he’d probably left her thinking he was afraid of fatherhood—and the worst of it was this was not necessarily a lie. The child itself did not really scare him, of course. He’d been around babies before, and they were innocent and helpless. But they were also deserving of love and guidance, of parents who knew enough to teach their children the difference between good and evil, between right and wrong. His own father had been such a good man. Will had fond memories of Dan teaching him how to saw wood, how to catch fish in the river, even how to be polite and respectful of the women in the village.
But in the end, Dan had been a slave to his circumstances. Crippled by poverty and injustice, he’d allowed others to control how he lived his life. In that instant, it had not been Dan but Robin who had shown Will—indeed, all of them—the way. For all his recklessness, his stubborn refusal to see the world as others did, Robin had shown them it was possible to stand up for what you believed in, to fight against those who wanted to trample on you. That was the difference between Robin and other men in the end. Robin was a man of conviction, of action. Dan was a…
The knife slipped and nicked Will’s hand, and he dropped it in shock. It was not the sight of blood but the sudden realization that had surprised him. Dan was a father. Whatever else he’d been in his life—apprentice, master craftsman, serf—it must have all paled in significance before the real charge laid for him. He’d raised his sons as well as he could, and if he’d never risen up against those with more power, it was not because he’d been afraid of the consequences, but because he could not afford to lose the two lives that mattered most to him.
So that’s it then. Your job is to fight, but not for yourself. Not for the king. Not for the poor. For Djaq. For the baby. That’s all.
—
Somewhere near Newstead
Djaq kept a brisk pace, ignoring the cramping in her legs from sitting too long, or the sharp hunger pangs she was beginning to feel. She shot a dark look at Allan, walking beside her, and for once, in complete silence.
“You don’t have to follow me. I can walk through the forest without falling down and breaking my neck!”
Allan looked sheepish. “Look, it’s not like I don’t know that. I know you can take care of yourself. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need help.”
Djaq ignored the creeping discomfort she felt at the sharp echo of Will’s words in Allan’s speech. She put her arms on her hips and stared him down, willing herself to look defiant instead of petulant. “What do I need help with?”
Allan matched her, stare for stare, and then smirked. “Lots of things. But for now, we’ll just stick with Gisborne.”
Djaq feigned ignorance for a moment, but realized quickly that Allan would see through such an obvious evasion. “And how do you intend to help me on that score?”
“Well, I know where we can find him, for starters.”
She goggled. She’d been hoping to find some sort of missive or message from Gisborne, instructing her where they could meet next, but apparently, even Allan was privy to more information than that. “How…how do you know?”
“He’s lodgin’ at a tavern near Blidworth. One of my men—er, one of the lads in the gang—he tracked him down.” Allan shuffled his feet before giving Djaq a pointed look. “And I worked for Gisborne, remember? I know how his mind works.”
She was about to dismiss Allan’s remarks with a snigger, but it struck her that Allan was at least partly right. He did have more insight into Gisborne than almost anyone else, and maybe that was worth mining. She considered Allan for a long moment, speaking only after she was certain he was aware of her scrutiny. “It is very hard for me to understand Gisborne. I don’t know how…why…he did what he did.”
Allan shuffled his feet, not meeting her eyes at first. But after a while, he gave a resigned shrug. “I don’t think he meant to do it. It was just…an accident.”
Djaq gaped at him, appalled at his easy dismissal of Gisborne’s greatest crime. “An accident? So he pulled out his sword, and Marian just happened to be in the way?”
Allan hesitated before answering. “I just don't think he meant to do it.”
Djaq scoffed. “Yes, that's a good excuse for everything, isn't it?”
“No, that's not what I meant. I think he really cared about Marian.” Allan paused, giving Djaq a pleading look, begging for her to understand. “I think he loved her. In his own way, I mean.”
Djaq kept her silence, if only to put Allan's mind at ease, but in truth, she could not understand a love so dark it would move a man to kill. Perhaps it was blood lust, perhaps it was madness, but it was not love. She shivered at the thought, and tried to change the subject, but Allan was not quite done yet.
“The thing is, he always tried to help her, protect her. You know? From the Sheriff, from other people who wanted to use her, from the noose.” He gave her a small, sad smile. “Even from herself sometimes.”
Djaq nodded. If there had ever been a woman who needed to get out of her own way...
Something Allan said leapt back at her. “The noose?”
Allan cleared his throat, nervous but keen to share. “Yeah. He found out she was the Nightwatchman, see. The Sheriff knew about the arrest and wanted a hanging.”
“He knew?”
“Yeah. But Giz helped her get away. Well, we helped her get away.” Allan laughed, the sound echoing sadly through the forest. “Not far enough away, mind.”
“No,” added Djaq, saddened again by Marian's senseless death and the renewed sense that it could have been avoided. If only Marian had stayed with the gang in the forest; if only she'd realized she couldn't save Gisborne, not least from himself. If only...
She turned to Allan. “You never told Robin? That Gisborne knew about Marian and the Nightwatchman?”
Allan had the sense to look away. “I...I wanted to, but the time was never right. And then I couldn't really see the point to it.” He gave her another pleading look. “You have to remember, we all thought Gisborne was dead, long gone!”
Djaq nodded, temporarily without a good response to Allan's logic. She fell silent and started to walk away, Allan falling in beside her. They traveled a good distance before either of them spoke, their silence full of the noise of doubt and uncertainty. At length, Djaq felt tired, and sat down heavily under a tree. “I am hungry.”
Allan laughed. “We just ate.”
She snapped at him. “So? We have been walking all over the forest. And we ate hours ago!”
“You sound like Much now.”
Djaq swallowed the words on her tongue, and allowed that Much's obsession with food was humorous, if only in the sad, desperate way of all their lives these days. Besides, Allan had no reason to suspect why she needed food so badly, so she shrugged off his mockery, digging into her pack to retrieve bread from that morning.
She chewed thoughtfully as Allan made tracking marks on the trees. That's clever of him. In spite of all her time in the forest, she'd never learned even the basics of tracking through the woods. Allan, on the other hand, was an expert, better than anyone but Little John. It made her wonder what he'd been up to in the world before Robin had found him. She let her thoughts wander as Allan finished up and dropped himself on to the ground next to her.
“We should take shelter. Or we'll be swimming home soon.”
She spoke around the food in her mouth. “You know something? I don't know how to swim.”
“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised, but the expression cleared and was instantly replaced by one of mischief, a dark twinkle in Allan's eyes. “I could teach you. I'm good at it.” He shrugged meaningfully. “You'd have to take your clothes off, of course.”
Djaq nearly choked on the last piece of her bread, but recovered quickly enough. “Maybe another time.” She stood and dusted herself, taking great satisfaction in Allan's open-mouthed gape. She walked away and called back to him. “You better close your mouth. Before a tree branch falls into it.”
Allan stammered in response and scrambled to his feet, quickening his pace to catch up with her. He spoke haltingly, more nervous than she'd ever seen him. “Would you really?” A look of alarm flitted across his face. “I mean, let me teach you how to swim, that is.”
Djaq chuckled. “I do not think that's what you meant. And no, I would not.” Too late, she realized she'd probably wounded him, and she tried to soften the blow. “Swimming seems quite useless in England, when it is so cold and rainy.”
Allan laughed in a subdued way. “Yeah, and besides, Will would probably kill me.”
“There is that.”
Once again, they became quiet as they made their way to the forest, and this time, Djaq could barely hear the forest over the din of unspoken thoughts, Allan's and her own. It was Allan who made the first move.
'Djaq,” he began. “If I ask you something, just one thing, will you answer it. Honestly, I mean?”
She stopped in her tracks, almost certain where Allan was going, but surprised to hear him give voice to his thoughts. She hesitated at first, but at length, she decided to let him speak his mind. It was good for his soul, if not for hers. “Yes, of course, Allan. Always.”
“Would you have ever...I mean, was there ever a chance. For you and me?” His voice trailed off, and he gave Djaq a pained look she'd never seen before.
For one frantic second, she considered lying to him, telling him what he wanted to hear, if only to erase the hurt from his face, his heart. But he'd asked her for an honest answer, and she would not give him false hope, not for the sake of convenience.
Djaq walked back to where he stood, looking so small under the canopy of trees. She reached up and cupped his face in her hand, and instinctively he leaned down towards her, expecting a kiss. But instead she laid her cheek against his and whispered. “You are my dearest friend, Allan. More than a friend, and you mean the world to me. Please let that be enough.”
He was stiff and her words brought him no comfort, so she wrapped her arms around his waist and stroked his back until she felt the tension leaving his muscles. She pulled away from him, but was dismayed to see the hurt look still on his face. Oh, Allah, give me strength.
She cast about for words to console him with, mere platitudes that would at least be a temporary salve. But Allan saved her the effort.
“It's alright, Djaq. I mean, I'm a grown man, and I've heard worse. Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She gave him a weak smile and pointed at the trail. “Shall we?”
He nodded and fell into step next to her. “Just tell me this one thing. Why Will?”
Because he's truth and hope and all that I thought I'd lost in this world. But she could not quite speak the words that ran through her mind, so she shrugged. “I don't know, Allan. It just happened.”
–
Torloton
By the time Will arrived at the makeshift camp, the caves were just jagged shadows against the night sky. He was tired, still quite damp and wanted nothing more than a hot meal and a chance to sleep. But instead of the quiet sight he'd expected, he found a buzz of activity at the camp.
As he neared, Matthew hollered out to him. “Where have you been? We've been looking for you!”
“I wasn't gone that long!” Will yelled back. “Got stuck in the rain.”
“Well, get yourself inside now. There's work to do.”
Will trotted up to the mouth of the cave, pleased to see a fire going and the men sharing a stew of some sort. A bowl was thrust into his hand, and he knelt by the fire, shoveling food into his mouth until he felt like himself again. He chewed hastily and spoke around a mouthful of bread.
“What's going on here anyway?”
“Little John's back. He wants us to make rounds of the villages to get information. Wouldn't say why, mind.” Matthew laughed. “But we don't ask questions, we just do as we're told.”
“A good plan.” He tried to stick with the light mood in the camp, but if John was already doing what Robin had asked, then news traveled fast in Sherwood indeed, faster than even men did. Will's mind was awhirl. Did they have some intricate way of sending messages? Pigeons? No, it wasn't possible that so much had changed in the time he and Djaq had been away. There had to be something else. Or someone else.
He fingered the pack still lodged safely under his arm. If he was a betting man, he'd wager the girl Anne knew a thing or two about it. She was at the camp now, sitting quietly next to Brother David, signing words at him every now and then. The monk listened carefully, and it was an entirely different conversation that he'd ever seen the girl have with anyone else, even with signs.
Will waited for the commotion in the camp to die down, and as men finished their meal and the mouth of the cave became less crowded, he rose and made his way to Anne and David. She smiled brightly at first, but as he got closer, the expression changed and he noted her glance at the monk in alarm.
He dropped the pack at her feet. “Do you want to tell me what you're up to?”
Anne drew the pack quickly to herself and gaped at him, mute as ever. Will hissed in irritation. “And don't pretend you can't hear. I think you hear just fine, and you can probably speak too.”
She shook her head, looking frightened, and Will felt ashamed. It had not been his intention to frighten her, but he'd put the question out now, and he needed an answer. He tried to soften his voice. “Tell me what you're doing, why you have the Nightwatchman's things.”
“Leave her alone.” The monk rose and stood between Will and Anne. “She can't tell you anything. You know that.”
“I don't.” A new thought came to Will. “And what's your game here? Are you in on this with her?”
David smirked, but gave no answer, pushing Will to more anger. “You're probably not even Welsh. Or a monk. Is David even your real name?”
The monk laughed. “Well, two of three isn't all bad, wouldn't you say?”
Will frowned, confused by the jest and unsure how to react.
David dropped his voice to a whisper. “My name is David, and I am a Welshman.”
“So you're not...not a monk then?”
David laughed in response, but another voice, only a whisper, spoke for him. “No. Far from it, in fact. He's my husband.”
It was Anne.
–
Near Blidworth
Djaq drummed her fingers on the wood of the table, impatient and annoyed with herself for having taken such a chance. The last message she'd had from Gisborne was unclear, and he had not specified a time or a place for a meeting. But armed with Allan's information about Blidworth, she'd decided to take matters into her own hands.
Once she'd arrived at the inn where Gisborne was lodging, however, the bravado had receded a bit, and matters were made worse by the curious stares she was getting from a strange man on the other side of the room. She shivered, and across the table, Allan gave her a knowing smirk.
She glared at him. “This is your fault. You said he was staying here.”
“He probably is. Maybe he had to step out. Maybe he's havin' a bit of a kip.”
Djaq's fingers itched with a sudden desire to strike Allan, and she began to have sympathy with Will's views on their friend. Still, it was hardly Allan's fault that she'd decided to come to Blidworth uninvited, and it would serve her right if she were to return empty-handed. But her wounded pride was not the only thing at stake. She was desperate to gain some knowledge, insight into the king's capture, anything that would help Robin in his cause.
Allan leaned across the table. “I could help you, you know. If you asked me.”
Djaq glared at him, ready to put him down with a cutting remark. But this was also just the opening she was looking for. “That would be very helpful. Maybe you can ask the innkeeper.” Djaq eyed him meaningfully. “She seems just your type.”
Allan turned and gave the innkeeper a quick glance. “Maybe.” He winked at Djaq, but became serious a moment later. “Do you really need my help, or are you just trying to get rid of me.”
“Yes.”
Allan laughed. “You think you're pretty clever, and that's alright. Because you are clever and all. But be careful, alright?”
She put a hand over Allan's, reassuring him. Satisfied, Allan sauntered off to chat up the innkeeper, leaving Djaq to her own thoughts. She was annoyed with Allan, but mostly just with herself. This trip to Blidworth had been a whim more than anything, a chance to prove to Robin what she was capable of. Yet neither Robin nor any of his men had actually asked for proof, or even suggested a need for it, so she was at a loss to explain her own conduct. Her life was changing, of course, and there was a good chance this would be her last great adventure. That thought rankled and she pushed it away, not wanting the reminder of her womanly limitations.
She scrubbed at a stain on the table so fiercely that her fingers rubbed off a bit of the finish, and as she cursed herself, a voice behind her caught her attention. Gisborne...
“Has the table offended you?”
“No.” She crossed her arms defiantly and stared him down. “You're late.”
Gisborne did not answer, instead drawing up a chair and studying her carefully.
“Well?” Djaq asked, with some irritation.
“Well what?”
“Information. I assumed you had some.”
Gisborne laughed, a bitter edge to his mirth. “You sound like the Sheriff now.”
Djaq was appalled. “No, of course not. I'd never--”
“Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. It's just...he always wanted to know everything, and always right away. Sometimes I think he cared more about knowing things than he did about money.” He paused, looking out of the window for several moments, lost in his thoughts. “The Sheriff would say that a man who didn't know things wouldn't have money either, I suppose.”
Djaq pondered his words. Gisborne was bitter, even angry, but the wistful tone of his voice was not lost on her either. He'd spent a lot of time with the Sheriff, after all. And if Allan could see good in someone like Gisborne, then perhaps Gisborne could see good in a man like the Sheriff.
“So what happened?” she asked.
“What?”
“With you and the Sheriff. You were once his most loyal man, and now you want to bring him to his knees.”
“That's a good thing, isn't it?”
“Good? Yes. Sensible? I don't know.”
He scoffed. “I've never been sensible, so it's hardly a surprise.”
“But why now? What's changed?”
Gisborne gave her a sharp look. “Everything. The world is...upside down. This is the only way to right it again. I'm going to put a dagger through his heart, maybe with Hood's help, maybe without. But at the end of the day, the Sheriff will be gone, and everything will be right again.”
“But it will not. You said so yourself before. There are hundreds of men just like the Sheriff.” She hesitated, worried about pushing him too far. “It's not really about helping Robin defeat him, is it? It is just...revenge, is it not?”
“Maybe.” There was anger in his eyes, a fury that Djaq thought might be unleashed against her. Instead, he banged a fist on the table and turned away from her. “They're true, you know. The rumors.” He laughed mirthlessly and the sound echoed dully in the near-empty room. “I did try to kill the Sheriff. But I didn't quite make it. Instead, he stabbed me and left me to rot in the desert.”
He turned back to her, eyes blazing, but voice low and soft. “But it isn't really about him, or even men like him. I don't care one wit about Hood either.” He scoffed. “In fact, if Robin of Locksley died tomorrow, I'd dance on his grave.”
Djaq startled, surprised by Gisborne's vehemence, the strength of his bile. “Do not say--”
“No, it's not about the Sheriff,” Gisborne went on, not even pretending to listen to Djaq. “It's about undoing the things he's done. The things I've done in his name. It's about...” His voice trailed off and a look of great pain crossed his face. “It's about doing the right thing, to honor her, to do something worthy of her.”
“Stop it,” Djaq interrupted. “You cannot speak of her. You cannot take her name like this. Not after what you've done.”
Gisborne slapped the table with such force that Djaq nearly jumped out of her seat. “Damn it! Don't you see? That's just why I have to speak of her, to do the things she wanted. It's the only way I can make up for it.”
Djaq bristled. “You think there's some way to make up for what you've done? You are mad if you think that anything short of--”
“Dying? Letting Hood kill me? Does that make up for it then?” He smirked. “Or is it just revenge?”
“No, that's...”
Gisborne relented a little, moving away from her, his manner softening as he spoke. “She wanted to do things, big things. Change the world, if she could. I didn't really understand that. I don't think Hood did either.
“So I want to help change it. I don't think it's too late.” He regarded Djaq frankly. “And I need Hood's help to do it. That's why you're here.”
Djaq nodded, trying to compose herself as Gisborne's emotional words and her own thoughts roiled inside her. “You have something to tell me?”
He nodded. “The ransom. It's been decided. The king's mother will take charge of it and travel with it to the Emperor.”
“And the money? She will raise it herself?”
“No, it's being raised here, by a new tax.”
Djaq groaned. Robin would not be happy about this. But then again, neither would the Sheriff, since this money would not benefit him. “How much? How long to collect it?”
“It's the same as the Saladin tithe.” He gave her a sad smile, and Djaq forced herself to return the gesture, the irony obvious to both of them.
“William de Longchamp, the king's chancellor, has been charged with taking the ransom to Aquitaine. But he and Prince John are not on good terms, and the Sheriff is in the prince's corner.”
“So? He's going to try to stop this Longchamp?”
“Yes. Longchamp travels south to France from his home in the north. He'll be carrying too much gold to travel inconspicuously, and he'll avoid the forest for fear of robbery.” Gisborne laughed. “That's more your area than mine, to be honest.”
Djaq smiled, allowing this was true. “So the Sheriff is going to steal the money before Longchamp gets to France, presumably.”
“Exactly. Hood needs to get to Longchamp first; take the money before the Sheriff gets wind of it.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Not much at all. Longchamp leaves Lincoln in two days. He'll be near Nottingham, somewhere on the Great North Road, by the end of the week.”
Djaq nodded. “Robin will think of something.”
Gisborne sputtered. “Yes, I'm sure he will.”
Djaq ignored the slight mockery in his voice. Gisborne and Robin could contest as they liked, but she wanted no part of it. The woman they were fighting over was long gone, and there seemed no point to their mutual hatred, beyond revenge. She sighed, deeply saddened by the whole thing and got up to leave.
Gisborne seemed to catch the change in her mood, and as she stood, he took hold of her wrist to keep her from leaving. He stammered a bit. “I...I don't know if you care. But I did love her, you know.” He laughed nervously and looked to her for some sort of approval.
Djaq was surprised to hear the echo of Allan's earlier words. This was not love. What sort of love bound a man instead of freeing him? What sort of love brought anger instead of joy? What sort of love was it that had to be endured instead of enjoyed? Poor man. But he'd never know the difference, and she wasn't about to shatter his illusions.
She nodded sadly, pulling her wrist out of his grasp. “Yes, I imagine you did love her. In your own way.”
–
Will looked from Anne to David and back to Anne, his surprise keeping his mind from being able to work out a response. He sputtered, searching for the right words, but gave up when a stupid sounding “Eh?” was the only thing that came out. He settled for a raised eyebrow and an unspoken question.
“I suppose we need to explain ourselves,” David added, more amused than angry. Anne, on the other hand, seemed genuinely upset to have been discovered.
She spoke in a whisper. “I'm sorry. But I can't be seen talking. Do you understand?” Will noted she had a different accent than David, almost French, and with her low tone, that made her even harder to hear. But he got the general idea, and nodded. Relieved, she loped away to a different corner of the cave, the pack secure under her arm.
David said nothing, watching her intently as she walked away. After several quiet moments, he turned to Will. “Do you know that feeling? You look at a woman, for the first time or maybe even the thousandth time, but something happens, and you can't even remember your own name?”
Will chuckled. If there was a man in the world who knew that feeling exactly, it would be Will himself. He felt a dull ache in his chest and a lump in his throat, a reminder of how much he missed Djaq. He tried to shake off the feeling by focusing his attention on David. “So what's the story? You're not a monk.”
“No. In fact, I'm a prince of sorts.”
“Really?”
David chuckled at Will in the good-natured way of a shared joke. “But being a prince in Wales is a lot like being a peasant in England, so it's not saying much, mind you.”
“And her?”
“She's nobody. She's really called Emme, but the name's never been important. Not to her anyway.” He leaned towards Will and whispered conspiratorially. “And I was a monk once. Or at least I was going to be.”
“What happened?”
“She did. Once I'd seen her, it felt like I'd already found what it took other men a lifetime to discover through prayer. I couldn't forsake all my worldliness for God after that.”
Will nodded. “What are you doing here then? Why are you even in England?”
“We had to leave Wales. There was a bit of a scandal, with a monk running away with a girl and all.” David scratched his chin thoughtfully before going on. “As to what we're doing here? Well, we're keeping an eye on Robin of Locksley. On behalf of the king.”
Will was aghast. “Why? Robin's always been loyal to the king. Before anyone else.”
David hesitated, but met Will's eyes evenly. “Well, to be honest, it's not really Robin we're concerned about. It's the men around him. Not just his gang, mind you. But the lords and the ladies who claim to be his friends, whose cause he furthers in the name of King Richard.”
“So you're spies then?”
“I don't like that word, I must admit. But yes, I am. So is Anne.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “Who else?”
“Nobody.”
“Liar.”
David laughed. “Alright. Just two others. Peter of Doncaster. You know him?” He did not wait for Will to acknowledge. “I'm sure you do. He's a bit hard to miss, what with the scar and the hard manner.”
“And?”
“A woman called Mary Baxter. In Newstead, although to be fair, she was already at the priory, baking bread, long before the rest of us came to the forest.”
Will considered all the information. “But if all you need to do is know who surrounds Robin, maybe even warn him, why not just do it straight up? Why all the disguises and the secrecy?”
David laughed again, but this time, mockery was apparent in the sound. “Don't know much about being a spy, do you?”
“You'd be surprised.”
David raised an eyebrow, a bit thrown by Will's answer. “Well, there's a trick to being a spy, see? You have to get men to speak to you, or at least around you. And in an open and honest way.”
He gave Will a pointed look, and after a moment, Will looked away, remembering that he'd done nearly the same thing with so many men in Acre. He'd tried to persuade them to see things his way, and he'd done it by hiding his real thoughts while pretending to care about theirs. Only I wasn't really pretending, was I? I did care... The voice in his head did not sound convincing even just to him.
David spoke on, unaware of Will's inner battle. “You can pretend to be deaf, so men will speak their mind without paying you any attention. You can bake bread and win the trust of many a hungry man. You can look so frightening that no man would ever consider lying to you.” His voice trailed off, and Will was glad for the moment of silence, because it gave him a chance to piece everything together.
David fingered the fabric of his cowl. “I'm a monk, or I pretend to be one. The robe inspires trust, the crucifix I carry invokes faith. I find most men desperate to confide in a man with a direct connection to God.”
“But you're lying to them, about what you are. And when you're discovered--”
“If we're discovered...”
“When you're discovered, the men you lied to will be shattered. They'll think you betrayed them.”
“You intend to tell Robin?”
“I have to. He doesn't like his men keeping secrets from him.” The words made Will uncomfortable, a sudden reminder that he was not being entirely honest with Robin either. And Djaq was keeping her share of secrets as well. “I have to tell him about the Nightwatchman business, at least.”
“Ah, that one, at least, was not our idea. It was Allan's plan.”
Will sighed. Of all the things he'd learned today, this was the least shocking. “Of course it was Allan's idea.”
David sighed in return. “You shouldn't be so hard on Allan. He's...a good man. His heart is in the right place.
“More than that, he knows how to get things done. And if he's not always perfectly honest or scrupulous, so what?”
Will bristled. “What's wrong with being honest? Or scrupulous?”
“Nothing,” David shrugged. “But there are no rewards for poor men who are honest.”
“It's supposed to be its own reward.”
“Is it?”
Will frowned. He felt cornered, like David had deliberately pushed him to admit to things he hadn't even considered before. He shrugged. “I...I don't know about all that. I just know this business with the Nightwatchman...it's wrong. I have to tell Robin.”
“Why?” David pressed on. “What does it have to do with Robin anyhow? Allan told us the Nightwatchman had been bringing the poor succor long before Robin ever did. Is it so terrible that someone should don the mantle again?”
Will shook his head and was about to add that his own family had felt the Nightwatchman's generosity, but a new thought came bursting out of his mind. It gave Will a chance to ensnare David as that man had done to him not moments before. “Don't you ever wonder what happened to the Nightwatchman? The real one, I mean.”
David gave Will an odd look. “I...I suppose I never thought to ask. I assumed that whatever man had done the deed before, he was gone.”
“Gone alright. Dead.” Will moved in for the finish, surprised at the glee he felt at sparring with words and ideas. “And not a man either.”
“What?”
Will smirked. “Didn't you know? The Nightwatchman was a woman.” He stood and dusted himself off. “And not just any woman. Robin's woman. Marian.”
David gaped at him, too shocked to answer. Will decided it was wise not to press his victory too much. It was enough that David—and Anne—knew where they'd gone wrong.
He was nearly to the mouth of the cave when David's voice caught him. “Where are you going?” he asked, alarm clear in his voice. “Are you going to tell Robin?”
Will sighed. “No. I wanted to. But I changed my mind.” He turned and fixed David with his stare. “You used to be a monk. It's for you to decide how you make up for your sins.”
–
Several hours later
Djaq stood at the edge of the clearing, leaning against a tree. She watched Will from a distance, enjoying the sight of him sitting on a gnarled tree stump, his hands busy with a new project. She sighed in contentment, glad that Will was the thing that awaited at the end of a day that had gone on just a bit too long. Allan had let her go into Locksley and then to the old camp by herself, but only with great reluctance. She'd practically had to threaten him with dire consequences just to get him to leave her be. In the end, he'd relented and she guessed it was at least partly because he knew she was off to see Will. She chuckled softly, amused by the fact that Will and Allan were so much alike, despite being so often at odds.
She watched as wood shavings flew off the stick Will was working with. Djaq was always amazed at how things took shape in his hands. Of course, the hands themselves were a marvel, moving constantly, scraping, whittling, making something out of nothing. She had a sudden memory of his hands in an entirely different context, against her skin, rough and callused, stroking and caressing, and she shivered in remembered sensation.
Djaq felt lightheaded and shook her head to clear it, calling out to him as she walked up to the tree stump. Will looked up as he heard her, his face breaking into a broad grin.
She held out her hands to him, happy to see the joy on his face. “You look happy.”
Will took her hands and pulled her quickly into his lap. "I am now." He kissed her through her giggles, and as she felt those wonderful hands make their way under her tunic, she sighed against his mouth, and surrendered all rational thought. His lips were warm as they drew away from her mouth and across her face to her neck, and then lower, into the hollow at her throat. She gasped, clutching at his shoulders, saying his name in a breathy
whisper.
And then, everything stopped. There was a different sensation now, new life asserting itself deep inside her womb. She'd never felt the baby move before, and it was a startling discovery.
“Will, stop!” She pushed him away and brought a hand immediately to her belly, worry and awe mingling in her mind.
He stopped at the sound of her voice, taking ragged breaths as he tried to compose himself. “What? Is something wrong? Are you alright?”
“I...I don't know. It's the baby. I think he moved.”
Will gaped in surprise, but recovered quickly, giving her a shy smile. “Can I feel?”
Djaq nodded, and he put his hand to her stomach. After a few moments, he shook his head in confusion. “I don't feel anything.”
“Maybe it will take a little longer,” Djaq said, distracted. As Will waited patiently, new thoughts swarmed Djaq's mind. She was having a baby. It was not the first time she'd ever thought about the being growing inside her, but it had been an abstraction, a vague concept for the future. Now, everything was different. It was a living, moving thing, and soon, it would come into the world. She was going to give birth to a wailing, squirming baby. In the forest. As an outlaw.
What were we thinking? What have we done? There was a lump in her throat and she could feel hot tears of despair forming in her eyes. With effort, she blinked them back, not wanting to worry him with her new-found doubt. She moved Will's hand away and ignored the obvious question in his eyes.
“You know what? We need to go now.”
He frowned. “What? Right now?”
“Yes.” She tried to brush off her own anxiety and gave him a bright smile.
Will narrowed his eyes at her, not fooled by the attempt at false cheer. “We can't live in Sherwood anymore, can we?”
“No.”
–
A day later
Torloton
Will sawed through a long piece of wood, letting it fall to the floor with a thunk when he was done. He leaned back and stretched, letting out an almost contented sigh. With Matthew's help, he'd managed to collect wood and frame the chests Robin wanted. He'd had to remind himself to keep it simple and functional, but Robin had charged him with finding a way to store coin while also hiding it, and that would need a lot more planning. He'd spent the best part of the last hour thinking about it, but nothing had come to him. The most obvious solution was to give the chest a false bottom, but that was too simple, and Will felt, less elegant a solution than he would have liked.
He sighed and kicked the sawn piece of wood away, letting his mind turn to other things. He'd been worried about Djaq since they'd parted a day ago. He'd been pleased she'd come to the same conclusion as him, that they could no longer live in the forest and still be a family, but he could not shake the feeling that leaving was still a last resort for Djaq, the thing she would do only if no other path was left to her.
As far as he knew, and despite her newfound fear, Djaq had little desire to leave Sherwood, and if she ever agreed to the proposition, it would only be to make him happy. But that was the last thing he wanted. He could not imagine a worse fate for Djaq than being pushed to do something out of fear. She'd spent half her life in mortal danger, but she'd always met it headlong. He'd just have to accept living in the forest . There were babies born in strange places all the time, and if anything, living in Sherwood might protect the babe from the sicknesses that spread so quickly in most towns and villages. Plus, they'd be in Robin's care and surely he'd never let anything happen to them...
His reverie was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. It was Matthew.
“We done here, Will?”
Will shook his head. “We still have to figure out a way to hide coin in the chest, if we need to.”
“Just make a false bottom?”
“Yeah, I thought of that. But what if there's a lot of coin? The false part would need to be nearly as big as the whole chest. It would be pretty easy to figure out where the money was, yeah?”
Matthew nodded. “What if you put the false bottom somewhere else?”
“What? Like in the top? Instead of the bottom?” Will guffawed, but felt bad a moment later when he caught Matthew's crestfallen face. He thought of words that might take some of the sting out of his mockery, but his mind took him elsewhere, to a brand new idea. He gaped at Matthew, and then grinned, clapping the lad hard on the shoulder.
“Of course! You're a genius. I can't believe I didn't think of it myself. Not in the bottom, indeed.”
Matthew frowned, clearly pleased by the compliment but unsure where Will was going. Will laughed and tried to explain himself.
“We'll put it in the sides of the chest. We'll make a chest with false walls instead of a false bottom. And we'll make the posts hollow and use those to hide coins too.”
Matthew's face lit up. “That's brilliant. You're the genius.”
Will colored predictably at the compliment and shrugged it off. “Nonsense. You thought of it, and now you're going to help me make it.” He surveyed what they'd done so far. “We'll have to get more wood, of course.”
They headed out of the caves and into the daylight, right into a bustling crowd. Half the camp was milling around and talking, their voices mixing into a low buzz as they all spoke at once. He could see both Allan and Little John in the crowd, but he could barely make out what any of them were saying. Fortunately, Allan made the problem go away, by letting out a sharp whistle blast that quietened the crowd immediately.
Allan grinned and then punctuated his moment of triumph. “Shut it, yeah? We've got important stuff to tell you.”
Little John cleared his throat. “Robin's asked us to go to France.” He hesitated and watched the tops of his boots for a minute before clearing his throat again and starting over. “We're off to Aquitaine, to see Queen Eleanor and save the king.”
Will gaped in surprise. He couldn't think of any two of Robin's men less suited to the task. John was a good man, of course, but he’d lived so long in the forest, he'd never be mistaken for anything but an outlaw. And Allan? To Will, that was the same as setting a fox amid the chickens. What was Robin thinking?
He raised an eyebrow, more confused than curious. Allan caught the gesture and came over. From the expression on his face, however, it was clear to Will that Allan was not particularly pleased about the day's events.
“So. You're off to Aquitaine.”
“Yeah.” Allan smirked, although there was a wistful tone to his voice. “Can't you just see me at court?”
“No,” Will added, with more good nature than he'd intended at first. “So...”
“You want to know why in Hell Robin would send me to do anything important?”
Will said nothing, wisely choosing not to admit to anything that Allan could throw back at him later.
“Well, he had to send someone.” Allan called out to Little John. “It's not like Big Bear here can really travel on his own.”
Little John frowned. “I could. I'm strong enough to--”
Allan chuckled. “You can't just be knocking people over with your staff, you know. Sometimes you need to be a bit more...delicate, like.”
John snorted. “Yeah. You're delicate alright,” he added, tapping his temple gently and rolling his eyes.
Allan mocked being hurt. “Make fun all you want. But if you're going to have brawn along, you need some brain too.”
Will allowed—a bit grudgingly—that Allan's particular skills might actually be useful on a journey to France. It was like David had said before. Whatever other faults he might have, Allan was a man who knew how to get things, how to talk to people. Little John would keep him on the right path, so there was little chance for Allan to be tempted in his usual way. A voice in Will's brain piped up. You're being unfair. Give him a chance.
He watched as the other men surrounded Allan and Little John, full of questions and congratulations. Will sensed it was not quite the right moment to speak to either man, so he dropped back, happy to be away from the noise and the crowd. The wood for the coin chests was not going to collect itself anyhow. He strapped on his long axe and set off.
Will was certain he'd slipped away unnoticed, but after just a few minutes, he caught sight of the two shadows that had followed him into the woods. He wheeled on them, ready to give them a piece of his mind, but the sheepish look on the faces of both Anne and David made him temper his words.
“So you're following me? Again?”
Anne shrugged. “To be fair, it's really the first time we've followed you.”
“Not suspicious enough for you?” Will asked.
She crossed her arms in a show of defiance. “Not important enough.”
Will was more amused than hurt, and he chuckled. “Fair enough. It's true I'm not very important.”
David narrowed his eyes. “Oh, but you are. In your way.”
“You only say that because you're worried I'll talk to Robin.”
Anne bristled. “We're not worried--”
The rest of her words were cut off by her husband. “What she means is that we're not afraid. Of you. Or of Robin of Locksley. But we have a mission, a charge. And we can't do what we set out to do if you tell Robin everything.”
Will sighed. “For some reason, I thought you'd decide differently. That you'd want to tell him. Because you're an honest man. Or at least you must have been one. Back when you were still...”
“A man of the Church? Well, I was an honest man. And I still am, and I daresay more so than most men of the Church.”
“Then why don't you just tell Robin?”
“Only the sinner confesses, and I have committed no sin.” David stared at his feet for a long time before speaking, the silence punctuated only by his breathing and by mumbled words from Anne that Will could not make out.
When he spoke again, there was regret in David's voice. “But I concede that what we've unwittingly hurt Robin. I think the knowledge would wound him more though, so I won't tell him.” He gave Will a pointed look. “Do you understand?”
Will nodded. “Fine. Why are you telling me all this? It makes no difference to me.”
David seemed troubled, so Anne spoke for him. “We feel bad for all that's happened. But we want to make amends somehow. We thought maybe we could go to France. With the others.”
“With Allan?”
“Yes. And maybe you could talk to Allan and Little John on our behalf,” David added. “Persuade them that we'd be useful.”
“Why do you want to go?”
“It is our...atonement, if you will. We can help Robin from afar, and keep him out of trouble. But we'll put the Nightwatchman to bed, and we won't spy on his men. Not anymore.”
“And the other spies? What about them?”
Anne shook her head. “They're on their own. They had no part in what we did, and we had no part in their actions.”
Will considered the two of them carefully. Anne did not seem particularly sorry for anything, but there was a desperation to her defiance, a wild look in her eyes that suggested fear. Probably afraid of what'll happen to her if Robin knows. Oddly, he felt no sympathy for her, nor any anger either. It was David's plight that moved him. Whatever the man had done, it had been for the love of a woman, and Will could not fault him for it.
He nodded sagely. “Fine, I'll ask Allan.”
Anne grinned broadly, more triumphant than grateful. David said nothing, but as Will began to walk away, he stood in his path and held out his hand. Will took it but was taken aback when he felt something cold and hard press into his palm.
He pulled his hand away and shook his head. “No, I don't need your coin. Consider it a favor.”
David smiled, and held his palm up so Will could see the thing he'd refused. “You misunderstand me. I do not buy your favor. Rather, I'd hope to give you mine.” He held up a flat circle of wax. “It's my seal. I told you I was a prince of sorts. It may open a door or two for you. Later in life, when you are done with outlawry perhaps.”
Will took it, fingering the raised letters. “Thank you. That's very kind.”
David nodded, and this time, it was Anne who held out her hand, clasping Will's forearm in a gesture of friendship. “I think it's a fair exchange. Thank you.”
They turned and walked away. Will watched them in silence, wondering about sacrifice and gratitude until the shadows began to grow and he set himself to chopping wood once again.
--
The sun had dipped in the western sky, and a lone torch had been lit outside the cave. Allan leaned on the wall of the cave, enjoying the cool of the rock on his back as he waited for the first star to appear in the sky. It was the first quiet moment he'd had in days, and he suspected it would be the last for a long while. He sighed in contentment, and drew in a long breath, trying to etch the smell and feel of Sherwood on his lungs.
But as he let the breath out, the sound of rustling leaves broke the serenity of the moment. He turned to find Will lugging an armload of firewood to the mouth of the cave.
“You need some help with that?”
Will shook his head and dumped the load of wood at the mouth of the cave. “No sense carrying it in anyway. I'm just going to whittle it down.”
Of course. What else would Will be doing anyway? But Allan wisely kept that thought to himself. “You don't have to chop it yourself, you know. Get one of the younger lads to do it.”
Will shrugged. “I needed something to do anyway.” He smirked at Allan. “I was getting a little bored of your celebration too.”
Allan laughed. “Worth celebratin', mate. I mean, think about it. If I go to Aquitaine, and the king's mother makes me a lord, you might have to raise your glass to my health and all. I'll be the new Sheriff.”
Will rolled his eyes. “I think you should worry about getting there first.”
“It's nothing, innit? Just a bit of travel over the sea and in France. Be there in no time. And Little John's staff will take care of the rest, I reckon.”
Will gave Allan a pointed look, worry in his eyes. “You don't really want to go, do you?”
“What makes you say that? It's the chance of a lifetime for me.” Of course I don't want to go. You just got back to England. And Djaq. She trusts me again...she always has.
Allan shrugged off the thoughts in his head. “Besides, I couldn't really say no to Robin, could I?”
Will said nothing, and they lapsed into a silence that would have been comfortable for any two other men. But there were a million unsaid things between him and Will, things that had a life of their own and made it impossible to be at peace.
“Listen,” Will's voice broke into the quiet. “Maybe you could take a couple of others with you. The monk David. Maybe the girl Anne too.”
Allan raised an eyebrow at him, although he suspected Will couldn't see the expression in the dark. Pieces of a puzzle began to come together. He nodded. “So you know about her then? About the Nightwatchman stuff?”
“Yeah.” Will scuffed the ground with his boot. “And I think I understand why you did it. But it has to stop.”
Allan offered no argument. There were a hundred reasons to stop, and a hundred more reasons to go on. But it was wrong, morally wrong, and that was the only thing that mattered to Will. He shrugged. “Fine. Stop it then.”
“They go to France with you, and it stops. Right?”
“What would I do with them? Two travelers is nothing, but four is a poncy pilgrimage. Especially when one of them's a monk.”
“He's not really a monk.”
“What?”
“It doesn't matter. You'll figure it out. But you need to take them with you. They could be useful. David can read. He talks like a nobleman. Maybe that helps. And Anne's good with a sword.” Will chuckled. “You made sure of that. And between you and her, you could probably steal most of what you need.”
Allan sniggered, allowing this was true. “And you don't think Robin will care that I took more of his men with me?”
“I'll explain it to Robin.” Will did not elaborate and Allan did not ask for an explanation.
Silence fell on them again. Allan could see a sliver of moon in the sky now, and the pale point of light that would brighten into the North Star. He willed himself to speak. Tell him he's as good as your brother, the one you should have had. He wanted to give Will sage advice of the sort an older man should give a younger man. But nothing came to him. And Will's already smarter than I am, in the ways that count...
“So when do you leave?”
Allan sighed. “At first light. Before all the men are up. Too bloody early, if you ask me.”
Will nodded, and then took Allan by surprise. “I'm going to miss you.” There was a wistful note to Will's voice, a hint of melancholy that carried over and landed on Allan like a giant cloak, at once both warm and sad. It was like the end of all things, and Allan felt a lump in his throat.
He tried to shake off the sadness. “Nah. No reason to miss me. I'll be back in the forest before you know it.”
Will shook his head. “I might not be here though.”
“You...you're leaving?” Alarm rose sharply in Allan's chest, clouding out his melancholy. “Why?”
“I can't stay here...we can't. Not now.” Will hesitated and cleared his throat before he went on. “We're having a baby. I mean, Djaq is. I mean—”
“What?” Allan let the words sink in. He thought about how tired Djaq had been, how she was hungry all the time. Of course!
He clapped Will gently on the shoulder. “That's bloody fantastic! I should have guessed, really. I can't believe you didn't tell me before.” He knew he was blabbering, but the words seemed to have a mind of their own, and he knew of no other way to hide his disappointment at being left out of another part of his friends' lives. “But why do you have to leave?” The question was barely out of his mouth, but he knew the answer already. Nobody wished outlawry on their children.
He raised an eyebrow at Will. “Have you told the others? Robin?”
Will shook his head. “Just you. Djaq wants to wait a while.”
“Well, I'm flattered then.” He grinned at Will. “And if it's a boy, you'll name him after me, of course.”
Will laughed. “Of course.”
Allan laughed with him, but after a moment, the heaviness in his heart returned. Even if Will and Djaq stayed in the forest, even if the three of them were reunited, things would never be the same again. They'd made themselves into a family, and he'd never be a part of it, never be more than the third wheel. It's just as well I'm leaving...
He felt suddenly tired, exhausted by his own loneliness, by the cloying happiness of his friends. “Listen, Will, I need to talk to Little John about the monk and Anne.” He ducked his head into the cave, but Will pulled him back with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Allan,” he said, his hand still clapped to Allan's shoulder. “Thank you.”
In their minds, the two men embraced.
–
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Date: 2011-09-08 02:40 pm (UTC)OMG! ROFL!
(I'm off to do the laundry but will be back shortly to read and comment)
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Date: 2011-09-08 06:14 pm (UTC)I know I already said loads of stuff about this chapter but, now that I've reread it here, I've got more to say. Surprised? No? Yeah, I figured. ;)
I really like Robin's thoughts about the king's flaws. I wish there had been more of that in the show. I get why he's banking on KR as England's only hope and all that, but it's so nice to read that he does, indeed, realize the man is not perfect. I like political!Robs quite a lot, actually. At least in this fic I do. I never really warmed to that side of him on the show and, in fact, it was that side of him which made me really mad at times. But here, having his thoughts to accompany his actions, it makes sense and doesn't throw him OOC as it often seemed to on the show.
Also, the scene between Djaq and Allan was really nicely done. Now you know that I've never really bought into the whole Djaq/Allan ship. I just never saw any sign of a budding romance or unrequited love between them on the show. I know, I know. There are many who would disagree with me about that, lol. But I just never saw it. I did, however, always really love their special friendship. But, having said all that, I did like this little conversation between them. It was awkward (as it should be, of course) and yet very touching at the same time.
Alas, now you're sending Allan and LJ off to France. *sigh* Why-oh-why can't the whole gang just stay together? *sniffle* Can't they all just live forever in the forest together? Like happy little campers? And have awesome adventures and lots of romance and a love interest for everyone? And Marian could be alive (there'd be no Kate, of course). And even Gisborne could join the gang and...and...um...well, I can't work it all out just now, lol. But a girl can dream, can't she? :)
Anyway, brilliant work, as always. The idea of Allan and Will embracing in their minds was very moving. So much has happened between those two and, in some ways, their friendship will never recover. But that brotherly bond still exists between them somewhere and it was nice to see it here. What a lovely and bittersweet way to end the chapter. Go, you!
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Date: 2011-09-08 09:50 pm (UTC)I feel like I've been paying tribute for years and am still behind on the payments, lol.
But here, having his thoughts to accompany his actions, it makes sense and doesn't throw him OOC as it often seemed to on the show.
I'm not sure this bit actually worked out the way I wanted. I wanted it to be clear that Robin knows the king isn't perfect, but also that he's 100% committed to his king. He's sort of put all his eggs in this one political basket. As for OOC, well, wait till next chapter, lol.
I just never saw any sign of a budding romance or unrequited love between them on the show.
You know what? I don't disagree with you, or at least not that much. Whatever feelings Allan has, I'm not sure I'd use either "budding romance" or "unrequited love" to describe them. I think it's a more a case of Allan feeling something beyond mere friendship for this extraordinary woman who saw him as a man, and more significantly, as worthy of her friendship. I don't think he's had enough experience with "real" feelings to know what he feels for Djaq, so he uses words like "chance" when he really means to ask is about his worth as a man.
But in my head, Allan still needs some sort of closure, ergo the awkward scene. Was it too much, you think? *sigh*
Why-oh-why can't the whole gang just stay together? *sniffle*
It's sad, but Sherwood Lodge was never meant to be a permanent home for any of these characters, IMO. Would it help if I told you that almost everyone comes back into the story at some point, if only in a non-Sherwood context?
So much has happened between those two and, in some ways, their friendship will never recover.
Never say never, lol. Again, in my head, as mature as Will sometimes is, he still has some growing up to do. And when he can look past a person's obvious faults and misdeed, and see him/her for what he/she is, he'll be a better man. It will just take another 50K words to get him there, lol.
In other words, you'll still be beta-ing this story when you go to your grandchild's high school graduation. ;)
Thanks for reading, and for the extended commentary. I ♥ you.
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Date: 2011-09-08 10:56 pm (UTC)That's exactly how it came across and that's what made it so good. On the show, we saw several instances of Robin defending the king, singing his praises, telling everyone how much better things would be once he returned, etc. (Even after he'd hung them all out to dry in the desert. Literally, lol.) But it was never quite clear (at least to me) whether or not Robin was completely blind to the king's shortcomings. I'd much rather think that Robin saw the whole picture but still believed KR was England's best option based on the good qualities Robin knew him to possess.
I think it's a more a case of Allan feeling something beyond mere friendship for this extraordinary woman who saw him as a man, and more significantly, as worthy of her friendship.
What a lovely way to put it. I agree.
FWIW, I don't think his feelings toward Will were all that different from this. Don't get me wrong, lol. I haven't suddenly started shipping W/A. But I think his feelings for both of them ran incredibly deep and yet were largely undefinable (or is it indefinable? Whatever. You know what I mean).
But in my head, Allan still needs some sort of closure, ergo the awkward scene. Was it too much, you think? *sigh*
Not too much at all. Totally believable, in fact. And I agree that Allan would need closure, or at least some sort of validation. I think Allan defines himself based on how he's thought of by those he admires. In the shadow of his betrayal (as well as all the changes brought about by Will and Djaq becoming a couple), he's bound to need confirmation that he's still a "good man" (as Djaq once called him).
BTW, nothing would make me happier than to beta this story for the next twenty years or so, lol. You have no idea how sad I'm going to be when it finally comes to an end. Seriously.
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Date: 2011-09-09 03:50 am (UTC)OMG, don't say that! It will just be an excuse to procrastinate that long. ;)
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Date: 2011-09-10 08:58 pm (UTC)I love that Robin isn't completely blind in his loyalty to King Richard and is, in fact, not entirely convinced that he's the best ruler England could have. His analysis of Richard vs. John seems pretty astute.
Will's reflections on being a man and a father are just wonderfully done: nuanced and sensitive, introspective but never heavy-handed about it. Will's realization that he is facing the responsibilities his father faced years ago, and his new understanding of Dan, was particularly poignant.
I love that Allan knows where to find Guy, lol. Interesting way to bring up his years in Guy's service, and what he knows about Guy/Marian.
I'm of two minds about whether Allan would have told Robin about the Nightwatchman episode. I could see him telling Robin about it on the way to Acre, to reassure him that Guy wasn't going to let anything bad happen to Marian. On the other hand, "Marian's going to be all right -- she's got Gisborne to look after her" may not exactly win brownie points with Robin, and also Allan might hesitate to say anything "nice" about Guy given his own history.
Great Djaq/Guy scene. "Has the table offended you." LOL! I love Guy's occasional moments of dry wit. The way he explains his motivation here makes a lot of sense to me -- he wants to honor Marian's memory, but I think his desire to right the wrongs he has helped commit has to do with his own sense of honor, as well. Interesting that he still has such vitriol toward Robin (obviously the monks didn't do a very good job with the "love thy enemy" lessons).
Djaq's final reflections on Guy's strange love for Marian are very in-character for her, but I also think she's objectively wrong, so to speak. For Guy, being in love with Marian was definitely an improvement on his state before that. His love for her may have bound him, but it also freed him from his bondage to Vaisey; I wonder if Djaq gets that?
(More later on Allan, Will, and the David/Anna twist.)
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Date: 2011-09-11 03:32 pm (UTC)See, I can't see him saying that. Even if he believes that Guy won't harm Marian, there's no way Allan thinks she's safe from the Sheriff, especially now that the Sheriff knows she's the actual NWM. Allan would just be lying to Robin (and for my part, I'm not fully convinced Allan thinks she's completely safe with Guy either).
His love for her may have bound him, but it also freed him from his bondage to Vaisey; I wonder if Djaq gets that?
I don't think she gets that, because she just doesn't know enough about Guy. Also, in her mind, Guy is still the guy who killed the woman he claims he loved. His love for Marian hasn't necessarily been a positive force in his life, and that's what Djaq is reflecting on.