Title: Into the Hands of Darkness Part 2
Author: Leiasky
Pairing: Robin/Marion
Archive: If you
choose. Please tell me first.
All of my fic can be
found here:
http://www.oocities.org/tenel.geo/robinofsherwood/rosfanfic.html
Summary: Part 2. Robin is taken to Nottingham to be
executed and Marion to the Abbey to be cleansed.
Disclaimer: The
characters are copyright HTV and John Carpenter. Used herein without permission
and solely for fun.
Credits: Clannad, for the song lyrics used in Chapter
2.
“The
Crystal Cave” by Mary Stewart for references to Merlin and Maximus.
Soldiers pulled
Marion and Tuck to their feet, inconsiderate of her injured leg. She yelped,
drawing their attention, and Robin’s.
“Leave her be!” Robin
hissed, struggling in the firm grasp of the soldiers. A metal hilt connected
with the base of his neck once again, knocking him unconscious. He slumped in
their grasp, chin against his chest as a steady stream of blood curled around
his neck to be absorbed by the forest green jerkin.
“Robin!” Marion
cried. “Leave him alone. You’ll……”
“Kill him?” Gisburne
laughed. “Why, that would be my ultimate goal, yes.”
Gisburne turned to the
soldiers holding the unconscious wolfshead. “Take him back to Nottingham.”
The soldiers complied
quickly, dragging the unconscious Robin from his wife’s sight and out of the
sacred glen.
“What did you do to
the people?” Marion asked, looking around the trampled forest.
“They chose to
scatter rather than be associated with the likes of you.” Gisburne sneered,
approaching Marion with a spring in his step. “Amazing to find where their true
loyalty lies when a blade is pressed to their throat.”
“You cannot beat the
people by bullying them.” Marion argued, pulling at her bonds with as much
strength as she could muster.
“Ah,” Gisburne
extended his arms to indicate the empty forest, “but I have and there is
nothing you can do about it.”
-----------------------------
Two soldiers stood
guard while Marion paced behind the great oak door. She had not been thrown in
the dungeon, but rather been safely stowed inside her old room, the very room
in which she had met her beloved Robin.
Her leg had been wrapped
and mended by the Sheriff’s personal doctor. Marion couldn’t fathom why if she
were to be executed with Robin.
She limped to the
high window and peered out at the flurry of activity below. The soldiers were
erecting a large platform in the center of the courtyard. She shuddered,
thinking such a structure could only be used for one purpose; to make a public
display of Robin’s death.
Marion looked around,
along the edge of the window, and searched for any way she could possibly
escape. Before she could put much more thought into her plan, the large oak
door swung open and in walked the sheriff, the bishop in toe.
“What do you want?”
Marion stared, walking slowly away from the window so that neither of the men
could put together the fact that she was looking for a way to escape.
“To baptize you, my
child,” the bishop stepped before Marion and placed a gentle hand on her
shoulder. “To cleanse your soul so that you may begin anew within Christ’s
church.”
“Anew?” Marion was incensed.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You have been
violated by that outlaw and…”
“Violated?” Marion’s
voice rose as her shock at such a statement washed over those present. “There
was no such thing. I went to my husband by choice, not by force.” She turned and
walked to the window, watching the soldiers working vigorously to finish the
structure meant to destroy her husband. “Now you are going to murder him in
cold blood.” She steadied herself and turned to face them, determination
shining from her hard gaze. “And I will watch while you execute this travesty.
I will watch and burn into my mind the horrors that you commit in the false
name of the law.”
The bishop was truly
horrified at her words, gasping as she spoke and crossing himself in the name
of his lord. “My child, this wolfshead has blinded you. You need….”
“I need my husband!”
Marion cried, glaring at the two men that stood before her in shock at her
words. “And since you will not bring him to me, or me to him, get out.”
The sheriff led the bishop toward the door, whispering,
“She’ll change her mind after that troublemaker Loxley has met his death at the
end of my noose.”
“Not likely!” Marion
screeched, overhearing the whispered words as the door was closed and bolted
shut behind the two men.
----------------------------
“We have to get him
out!” Will fumed as he paced the forest floor. “They’ll kill ‘em!”
“What do you want us
to do?” Tuck, the ever calm and rational mind, asked painfully. “Waltz into
Nottingham and ask them to release Robin?”
“We can’t just sit
here!” Will bellowed, glaring at the fat friar.
“We won’t,” John
whispered slowly. “We’ll find a way.”
“What if we go to
Herne?” Much looked up from where he’d had his head buried in his hands. “Wouldn’t
Herne ‘elp Robin? He‘s ‘is son.”
“That’s a good idea.”
Tuck nodded, reaching over to ruffle the half-wit’s unruly hair. “Let’s go!”
---------------------
“Watching is a cruel
punishment, even for a lady.” The Abbot Hugo stared as his brother readied
himself in his best finery for the hanging of his arch enemy.
“She is no lady,” the
Sheriff spat, “she went into that man’s arms and bed willingly. She is lucky I
do not hang her alongside him!”
“Give her to me,”
Hugo implored, “I will escort her to Kirklees myself.”
The Sheriff stared at
his brother and huffed, “Perhaps an even more cruel punishment will be to let
her live while her renegade husband dies.”
“Indeed.” Hugo
followed his brother out of his rooms to oversee the hanging of Robin Hood.
"What is
it?" the Sheriff whirled on the man who cowered behind Gisburne. "
Speak up man! I have a hanging to officiate!"
"A letter, Lord
Sheriff," The man extended a trembling arm toward the ornately dressed
man. "From the King."
The Sheriff grasped the scroll, mumbling loud enough for
the entire room to hear. "He probably wants me to wait until he gets here
before executing that troublemaker!” He
ripped open the document, waxed shut with the King's seal, and began to read
while walking toward the courtyard; Gisburne and the Abbot following closely
behind.
"What!?"
The little man roared, eyes widening over the parchment.
Gisburne skidded to a
halt behind the enraged Sheriff and attempted to use his considerable height to
read over the smaller man's shoulder.
"I don't believe
this!" The Sheriff crumpled the parchment into tiny pieces and threw it to
the floor, disgusted. "This is an outrage!" he rushed out into the
courtyard and called to the prison-keeper. "Bring out the wolfshead!"
Gisburne stepped out
moments later, after having read the letter, and whispered meekly, "But my
Lord Sheriff, are you certain this is wise….?"
---------------------
Marion sat in the
window, watching as they readied the platform. She closed her eyes and prayed
to Herne, to God, to anyone who would listen, to save her beloved's life.
Marion studied the workings and the wooden structure as if burning it in her
mind for eternity. She cringed when she
heard the Sheriff's voice calling for her husband. She stood and gripped the
edges of the stone, seriously considering throwing herself over it in an effort
to spare her husband a few more minutes of life.
Behind her, the large
oak door swung open and two soldiers strode confidently through, Gisburne
walking exultant between them.
Marion turned to
glare at the soldiers, silently hoping that perhaps they were here to take her
to be put to death beside her husband.
"Close the
window," Gisburne ordered and Marion protested. "Take one last look,
Marion. For you will never see him again!"
Marion whirled toward
the open window, staring at the hooded figure, as he was led, arms bound behind
his back, toward the platform that would end his life. Small tears began to
sting the corner of her eyes as she watched, fingers gripping the edge of the
window in anticipation of being dragged from it. She had not long to wait. The
guards grasped her arms and pulled her away, amidst her frantic screams.
"Let me go this
instant!" She struggled, kicking and clawing at their arms. "You
cannot keep me from watching!"
"We can and we
will." Gisburne stared down at the struggling woman. "The Sheriff has
decided that this would be too horrific for a Lady such as yourself to
watch."
"He is my
husband!" She cried, tears freely flowing down her cheeks as she continued
to struggle. "You have no right!"
"We have every
right." Gisburne smiled. "You are not legally married to that man and
thus have no rights whatsoever other than those of a greenwood whore."
Her hand impacted with
his cheek before he had a chance to intercept it. Emerald eyes blazed at the
accusation and she attempted to slap him again when a gloved hand stopped the
motion in mid-air. "Now, now little Lady, calm down. It will all be over
in a few minutes."
"No." She
wrenched her hand from his grasp and turned toward the now closed window. She
could hear the Sheriff speaking, could hear him reading a list of Robin's
supposed crimes against the people, against the Sheriff and against the King
himself. She could hear every word as if he punctuated it especially for her
ears.
Silence fell and her
heart thumped in her chest.
Her hands tightened
into fists and she closed her eyes, ready for the eventual sound of the gate
below her husband’s feet to fall open.
A loud clang was
heard followed by a loud gasp from the crowd and a sob broke through her lips.
"No," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly. She took several deep
breaths, silently praying for her husband. She turned and stoically walked to
her bed, sitting down and pulling the covers to her chin.
The soldiers watched
as she buried herself in the coverings, the material catching large tears as
they fell unhindered down her cheeks.
"Finally, it's
over." Gisburne rejoiced as he pulled open the door and strode out of the
room, leaving a still sobbing Marion behind.
As soon as the door
slammed shut, Marion was on her feet, limping to the window and tugging it
open. She stared at the now empty platform, squinting as the light momentarily
blinded her through her tears.
"No," she
whispered and fell limp against the window. She stared for a long moment at the
empty noose, the hidden doorway hanging open in the center of the platform.
Leaning her head against the hard wall, she closed her eyes and released a deep
breath. Her hands shook and her body trembled.
Never before had she
thought she would not be with her beloved when he finally met his end. She
fully expected to die with him, had welcomed the inevitable. One last thing the
Sheriff had robbed of her. Now she was to walk the rest of her days alone, the
sheriff's final words buried in her mind, and the sight of the hooded man
walking to his death before her eyes, embedded into her heart.
Several more minutes
passed and she drew more cautious, shaky breaths, lifting her voice, beginning
a song she'd not heard since she was a young child.
Her mother had sung
this piece to her in the night to ease her fears. As Marion sang the lyrics,
she found herself unable to be comforted by the words.
Hope is your
survival
A captive path I lead
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a long, long time
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a thousand years
Nachgochema
Anetaha
Anachemowagan
Marion stumbled over
the pronunciation of the foreign language. She was unsure of what the words
meant as a child and she was still unsure now.
She sang from memory, the soft words leaving her lips with as much
emotion behind them as she could remember when her mother had voiced the same
song.
No matter where you go
I will find you
In the place with no frontiers
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a thousand years
Marion began to sob
as she sang, the words holding more meaning for her now than when she was a child.
This time it was not her mother singing for a father away at battle. This was a
wife singing for her dead husband; a husband whose life had been cut short by
the desire to free his people from the tyranny of Nottingham.
Hale wú yu ga I sv
Do na dio sv I
Wi ja lo sv
Ha le wú yu
Do na dlo sv
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a long, long time
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a thousand years
No matter where you go
I will find you
In the place with no frontiers
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a thousand years
No matter where you go
I will find you
"I will find you,
Robin," Marion took one last look at the platform and turned to slowly
walk back to the bed. She slid between the covers and buried her face in the
crisp, clean linens, sobbing into her hands. She collapsed from the strain,
emotional and physical, that she had been put through in the last two days.
"And then we will be together always."
“Nothing is ever
forgotten.” She whispered into the pillow.
As she drifted into a
restless slumber, his words echoed through her mind, comforting in their
clarity. Words said to comfort his rag-tag band, words that made her fall even
more deeply in love with the Saxon who cared more for his people that his own
King.
"Our friends who were killed. They will never starve,
or be tortured, or chained in the dark. They are here with us is Sherwood, and
they always will be. Because they’re free."
Chapter 3
"This is
unbelievable!" The Sheriff whined, pacing his room like a caged animal.
"I can't believe the King would do this, ask this. After all the trouble
that wolfshead put us through!"
"To disobey the
King would put our necks in the noose," Gisburne added, rubbing his
throat.
"I'm aware of
that, Gisburne!" the Sheriff spat, stopping only to glare at the soldier
before grasping a mug of wine and throwing it against the wall.
"Let’s go before
I change my mind and risk the King's wrath!" the Sheriff growled as a
servant settled the heavy cloak over his shoulders.
-------------------
"No!" Will
cried as Edward informed the outlaws of Robin’s quick execution.
“The Sheriff wasted
no time.” Edward said sadly, “I don’t think he wanted to give anyone time to
plan an escape.”
John's large bulk
sank to the ground, closely followed by Tuck, their heads leaned back in
dejection against the nearest tree.
“Robin was injured,”
Tuck whispered. “No way he could have escaped.”
“Not without help,”
Edward nodded. “That’s what the Sheriff wanted to prevent. I think he knew that
you all were still in a bit of shock after Robin and Marion were taken.”
“Where is my little
flower?” Tuck asked quickly, eyes wide, afraid she had befallen the same fate
as her husband.
“The sheriff has her
locked in the castle,” Edward answered quickly, understanding Tuck’s concern.
“No one has seen her, and no one knows what he plans to do with her.”
“If he was going to
kill her, he would have done so already.” John whispered. “He’d have hung her
with Robin.”
Much simply stood in
shock, face reddening, tears forming quickly in normally bright, vibrant eyes.
"We ‘eren't in time," he sobbed, mumbling incoherently.
"Herne is no
where to be found!" Will fumed, throwing his bow to the ground in anger.
"His son has been killed by the Sheriff and he is gone, vanished into the
trees. We searched for him all day!"
Will stalked into the
forest, screaming for the horned god, cursing him for allowing Robin to be
killed in his name.
Tuck rolled to his
feet and followed the enraged Scarlet. "Will! Will!" the fat friar
breathed, trying to catch the man as he wove through the trees, slapping and
kicking at the branches in his anger.
"What, Tuck?" Will whirled on the friar, tears slipping from the
corner of his eyes, face red with anger. "What is left to say? He's gone,
dead, and that good for nothing god that he believed in so strongly, followed
and obeyed, abandoned him when he was needed the most!"
"There had to be
a reason." Tuck said softly, truly unable to believe it himself.
"The sheriff is
planning an unexpected trip to London," Edward, followed by Much and John,
advised from behind. "No one knows why, but he has an army ready to escort
him through Sherwood."
"Does he
now?" Will’s eyes brightened. "This is our chance to go down
fighting. For Robin." He turned toward the band of outlaws surrounding
him. "Are you with me?"
"We need to
think this out, Robin used to…"
"Tuck!"
Will interrupted, "Robin isn't here to help us plan this attack thanks to
the Sheriff. We can gather a few more people and attack that little caravan or
we can attack it ourselves. Sherwood will hide us."
"He would be
prepared for that." John whispered, tears drying along his dirty cheeks.
"We are better
than a hundred of the Sheriff's men!" Will implored. "We know the
forest. He doesn't. We can set traps. We can ambush his men. We can stay hidden
much longer than he could!"
Edward, feeling
guilty that Robin was captured just outside his village, settled his hand on
Will's shoulder and nodded. " Let's hear your plan."
Much sobbed in the
background and Will stared hard at the young man. "We don't have time to
grieve, Much! We are going to avenge his death, with our own if need be, but we
will damned well take the Sheriff down with us!"
----------------
"We've
eight volunteers," Edward returned
later that day to the makeshift camp, eight men trailing silently behind.
"They are willing to fight and possibly die to avenge Robin’s death."
"That's
it?" Will glanced at the men, they were either old or very young. Either
way, not what he had hoped to see return to fight in Robin’s name.
"Most of the men
have families," Edward explained, "they are unwilling to risk the
Sheriff's wrath if they were to be caught or killed."
Will was silent for
several moments, thinking about his grand plan, of how he could make it work
with so few people. "We'll make it work." Will clasped his hands
together. "John is going to teach you how to use a bow, to strike your
mark on the first shot, and when he is done with you, we are going to work on
some traps that will do the job of an arrow."
Will turned to where
Tuck and Much sat, watching closely. "Tuck will start making extra bows
and arrows. Much help him.”
The two men nodded and
set to their task, working quickly and quietly, each thinking over the destiny
that lay before them and the lives that would probably end with this last
standoff with the Sheriff.
"What do you
think Will 'as planned?" Much asked. They worked quickly, slipping the
quills into newly made arrows and fastening them with sticky sap.
"I don't
know." Tuck stole a glance at the eager ex-soldier. The man seemed too
eager for Tuck's peace of mind. There was no need to worry the Much any more
than necessary, so he remained silent. His foster brother had just been killed
and he'd not had the proper time to grieve. Tuck didn't need to give him
anything else to worry about.
While the new
additions to the rag-tag band practiced their accuracy with a bow, Will set about
to gathering the materials they would need for their traps to work.
He and Nasir strung
long rope across and through the trees, attaching pulley's to each end so as to
stretch them tight when the time came. They gathered snares and hung them high
above the forest floor, ready to be dropped on any unsuspecting soldier that
passed beneath. Circled rope, carefully covered by the leaves, served as an
ankle noose.
A stretch of trampled
road through Sherwood became their battle point. Brush was carefully cleared
away behind the small ridge that followed the road enabling the outlaws to run
quickly along the designated path. Large tree trunks were dragged to the end of
the designated point, effectively trapping any and all who rode along that
stretch of road.
They knew they didn't
have much time. Word had already come that the Sheriff had left Nottingham with
his caravan. They had less than a day to prepare.
They would fight and
they would go down fighting to avenge the death of their friend, Robin Hood of
Sherwood Forest.
----------------
"I want two
riders to pace before us two miles." The Sheriff commanded, "I want
no surprises from those outlaws."
"Perhaps we
should take another route?" Gisburne offered, straightening his cloak.
"You
imbecile," the Sheriff spat, "If there was another route that would
get us to London faster than riding through that cursed Sherwood, I would take
it."
"Yes, My
Lord." Gisburne conceded and opened the door to the covered carriage for
the Sheriff. Turning to two mounted soldiers, he ordered, "You two will
ride ahead. Go now!"
The shorter man
looked inside, and with a disgusted snort, entered the carriage, closely
followed by Gisburne.
"Lets get on
with it!" the Sheriff growled, settling himself in for the long, uncomfortable
ride through Sherwood to London.
------------------------------
Marion watched them
go from her tower window. With a sad determination in her eyes, she vowed to
break free of this prison and either return to Sherwood or die trying.
A soft knock on her
door drew her attention from the departing carriage and the virtual army
marching toward Sherwood. "What is it?" she asked, staring as the
Abbot Hugo appeared with two nuns at his side.
"We have come to
return you to the convent where you belong." An elderly nun held out a
hand toward the young woman. "We will dress you while the Lord Abbot waits
outside."
"I am not going
to Kirklee's," Marion snapped, shooting a defiant glare toward the Abbot.
“You will release me or you will have to kill me, here and now.”
The nuns crossed
themselves and drew closer to the young woman, “With God’s guidance, you will
be set along the right path once again, my child.”
Marion turned a cold,
hard stare on the woman. “My path ran through Sherwood beside my husband.” She
glared at the Abbot, who had opened the large oak door to admit two soldiers.
“If you take me it will be against my will.”
The Abbot stepped
away as the soldiers entered, marching quickly around the two stunned nuns, to
restrain the Lady of Sherwood.
“To Ravenscar.” The
Abbot pronounced and Marion stifled a gasp, a horrified look crossing her pale
features.
Chapter 4
"They're coming,
they're coming!" Much nearly fell into Will as he called to the others, branches
bending and twigs snapping in his wake.
“Into position!” Will
cried, ducking below the cover of the trees.
Every member of the group wore leaves and branches stuck from their clothing to
better hide them within the forest. They could not easily be seen by someone
standing right next to them, much less a soldier on the road below.
The men took their
places, ready for the coming battle. The band was surprised to find only two
lone riders, their horses cantering oblivious along the road.
“Damn!” Will stood
and took aim. “He sent scouts ahead to look for trouble.” Will turned to John.
“You take the one on the left and I’ll take the one on the right.”
John nodded as the
horses skidded to a halt in front of the large trunks that blocked their way. The
soldiers wheeled their horses around and then gasped in horror as two arrows
struck them in the chest, dropping them from their seat.
The men closest to
the dead soldiers leapt out of the trees and dragged the bodies into the brush,
hiding them from the approaching caravan. The men led the horses into the tall
trees and tied off the reins so they were unable to run away. They might be
needed for an escape.
"Get
ready!" Will mouthed, signaling the men to take their positions. The
ex-soldier lined arrows in the dirt in front of him allowing quicker access.
Within a few moments,
horsemen rounded the corner, sitting straight in their seats, eyes watching the
road ahead. The wheels from the carriage rumbled roughly over the terrain, it's
occupants oblivious to the impending danger.
The outlaws, leaves
and branches stuffed into their clothing to aid in their disguise, took aim,
each targeting a different soldier. They watched Will closely, some shaking
with fear at the prospect of killing a soldier. Others took aim quickly, ready
to loose their arrows at the men who, indirectly, had caused the death of their
Sherwood King.
The self-proclaimed
leader of the outlaws loosed his arrow, catching a soldier square in the chest.
The rest followed suit, dropping their targets quickly to their deaths.
Horses reared, nearly
throwing several soldiers from their seats.
The carriage came to
a screeching halt, throwing its occupants against the doors. The drivers fell
from their seats, arrows protruding from their chests and back.
The Sheriff opened
the door in a huff, lips parted to scream curses at his men. An arrow aimed at
a soldier sailed wide and struck the open door, barely missing the Sheriff's
cheek.
"What is the
meaning of this!" De Rainault screeched, arching his neck to see who'd
shot the arrow but they'd already disappeared into the dense foliage.
"Find them!" he commanded. "Kill them all!"
"They are
hidden, my Lord Sheriff!" Came the cry from outside the carriage. "We
can't see them!"
De Rainault pushed at
Gisburne," Get out there and kill those outlaws!"
"But, but, my
Lord…"
"Now!" the
Sheriff screamed, pushing Gisburne out of the carriage.
The Sheriff drew his
sword and settled it against the neck of the shackled man sitting across from
him. "One move and my face is the last you will see before you die."
----------------------------------
Marion sat calmly
atop her horse as the small caravan left Nottingham.
Outwardly, Marion
showed no emotion, no fear, but inside, her mind was racing, her heart
breaking. The horses passed the platform on which her husband was hanged and
her heart plummeted into her stomach. She'd meant to die with him. Together
until the end. But it was not meant to
be. And she would be damned now if the Abbot took her to Ravenscar to be
imprisoned in that cursed place.
There were few
soldiers riding as escort, Marion noted. Most having been recruited to
accompany the Sheriff on whatever banquet he'd been invited to attend now that
his arch rival had met his end.
Marion winced as she
remembered the covered body she'd seen them carry, depositing into the carriage
like a sack of grain. She surmised it was the body of her dead husband, being
taken to London to be paraded in front of the King's court.
Anger welled in the
young widow at the thought of her husband's body subjected to the whims of his
enemies.
At least there would
be no more pain. They could do what they would to his lifeless body. Marion knew
that he had passed to another plane, another form of existence where only the
followers of Herne the Hunter could be found. One day she would join him there.
Together for eternity.
Her eyes focused on
nothing, regarding those who looked on her with a blank stare.
For now, she would wait and search for a time when she could avenge her
husband's death. For now, she would continue his dream and work free the people
of Sherwood from the tyrannical rule of the Sheriff of Nottingham.
-----------------
"Go! Go!"
Gisburne commanded, taking the reins and slapping them against the horse’s
backs. The brown stallions reared, pulling the heavy carriage down the
road….toward the large trunks that blocked their way.
The carriage slowed
and the Sheriff cursed beneath his breath. "What's going on out there,
Gisburne?"
"They've blocked
the road!" Gisburne called, his voice breaking as an arrow caught him in
the arm.
"Well un-block
it!" the Sheriff commanded, eyeing his shackled and barely conscious
prisoner carefully.
Cautiously, the
Sheriff stuck his head out the door, careful that the attacking outlaws were
not able to use it as a living pincushion. "Send some men into the trees,
the woods. Find those filthy outlaws!"
"Yes, my Lord
Sheriff!" Gisburne picked several soldiers and sent them in two different
directions with instructions to kill those outlaws or not bother to come back.
The outlaws took to
the trees, using rope and pulleys to lift them high into the air above the
soldier’s heads.
One unlucky soldier
stepped into the ankle noose and soon found himself hanging upside down, blood
rushing to an un-helmeted head.
Two others rushed at
Much, who'd deliberately caught their attention and moved slowly so they could
catch up. The men soon found themselves tangled in a large net, the young
half-wit cocking them on the heads with his staff and knocking them
unconscious.
Mounted soldiers
steered their horses around the carriage and raced toward the other end of the
road - the end that was not blocked. Arrows flew from the trees, catching most
of the riders and toppling them to the ground beneath their horse’s feet. Two
continued on their way, not looking back, praying they would be forgotten as
the outlaws laid into those still trapped.
"Damn!"
Will cursed. "Two of them got away!"
"And it will
take them most of the night to get back to Nottingham." Tuck placed a
trembling hand on Scarlet's shoulder. "By then what is to be done, will be
done."
"Right,"
Will agreed and took aim at another soldier who thought to follow the other's
path.
That soldier fell
from his steed with a cry, an arrow embedded deeply into his back.
Much darted around
the large oak, barely escaping two short arrows that sailed toward his head.
Soldiers pursued him into the forest, foolishly thinking they could catch the
half-wit. Rounding a large tree, Much sliced at the bark with a knife, cutting
the rope holding large logs far above the heads of the approaching soldiers.
Much didn't look back as the cries from the crushed men reached his ears.
The outlaws were
rapidly running out of arrows and would soon have to face the remaining
soldiers blade to blade or risk letting them go.
The outlaws looked
around as Will made the decision. He drew his blade with a loud schting!
and charged the remaining soldiers. The others followed, Nasir drawing both his
blades and slicing at the nearest shocked soldier.
Parry. Reposte.
Slash. Parry. Lunge.
Blades met and
clashed. Steel on steel. Steel on flesh. Soldiers fell quickly at the outlaw’s
hands, unable to match the talent and quickness of Robin's men.
Blood flowed down the
blades like water, staining red the ground to which they'd fallen.
Soldiers turned and
ran as they watched their comrade’s fall to their deaths. Most did not live
from an encounter with the famed outlaws of Sherwood. And those still living
had no intention of seeing the Sheriff's safety through to their own end.
Will fought his way
toward the carriage that carried the Sheriff.
His rage kept blades at bay as he downed each soldier that dared step
into his path. With a parry and a twist, he dodged the blade of one soldier and
caught another by surprise, causing the aimed crossbow to miss its mark.
The soldiers who
dared, loosed deadly arrows at the closest outlaw, downing a few of the new
additions to the rag-tag band. This gave few soldiers courage to face those who
made for the Sheriff's carriage and they turned and ran, on foot, through the
darkening Sherwood Forest.
Robert De Rainault
mistakenly poked his head through the small window and nearly had it taken off
by a stray arrow. "You fools!" he spat at the soldier who had
mistakenly fired the arrow. "Weren't you taught how to aim properly!"
The Sheriff watched
helplessly as the soldier's eyes widened and he slumped forward, crossbow
clattering to the ground.
Scarlet's evil grin
made the Sheriff tremble as the outlaw pulled his blade from the soldiers back
and let him slump to the ground.
De Rainault's head disappeared
within the carriage once more and Scarlet grunted. He threw open the door to
the carriage and stared wide-eyed at the Sheriff and the bound man a
hairs-breath away from the end of the Sheriff's blade.
"One more move
and he dies," De Rainault warned, glaring at Will.
Chapter 5
Robin stared at Will
through heavily lidded eyes. Shackled since his capture with his injuries
untreated, had drained him of whatever energy and life the young leader had
struggled to maintain.
Will stared from De
Rainault to Robin and back again, his shock betraying the upper-hand he'd
intended to use.
"If I have to
say it again, you'll see your precious leader die before your eyes," the
Sheriff threatened, knowing full well that if he killed Robin, his death would not
be mercifully quick.
"And if I
refuse?" Will snapped, glaring at the Sheriff.
The blade pressed
into Robin's neck, drawing a small trickle of blood, and Will slowly lowered
his sword. "Go, you will be given free passage."
De Rainault laughed,
fist clenching around the hilt of his blade. "Only while I have your
precious leader as my prisoner. Don't think I don't know your filthy ways. As
soon as my back is turned, there will be an arrow, aimed and shot toward
it."
"You have my
word." Will muttered through gritted teeth. The battle began to slow
around him as the soldiers that still lived became prisoners or took what cover
they could in the unknown wilds of Sherwood.
"I know what the
word of an outlaw signifies," De Rainault glared, staring down at the
weakened Robin, nearly unconscious from enduring such as he had in the days
since his capture.
"Will,"
Robin mouthed, his parched lips trying desperately to voice the words he wanted
to say, "let him go." His voice was a strangled whisper that both men
strained to hear.
"Let's get the
Sheriff out of there!" John called from the other side of the carriage. He
threw open the door and stopped cold, the smile fading from his lips only to be
replaced by shock. "Robin?" John whispered, disbelieving his own eyes.
"Yes, yes,
yes," the Sheriff mumbled loud enough for those close enough to the
carriage to hear," your precious leader still lives….. for the
moment."
"Let him
go," John demanded, glaring at the Sheriff with hatred-filled eyes. He
grasped the sides of the carriage, knuckles whitening from the tight grip.
The Sheriff steadied
the tip of his blade against Robin's neck, drawing further blood as a larger
cut formed along the pale skin. "I don’t believe you are in a position to
be demanding anything."
John took a deep
breath and resisted the urge to launch himself inside the carriage and rip the
Sheriff's limbs apart with his bare hands.
"We're going to
let him go," Will decided, righting himself and casting a look around the
forest at the dead and injured. "When you are out of longbow range, you
will let Robin go. Or we will catch you and you will endure a slow and painful
death."
"You are in no
position to make demands," the Sheriff sneered, smiling as Robin tried to
clear his head enough to speak.
"If you kill
Robin, we kill you, slowly and painfully." Will began, fingering his
blade. "Those are the facts. However that goal is achieved, it matters
not. Only that it will happen should you make the wrong choice."
"I want the
half-wit, if he still lives," the Sheriff added with a small grin,"
to drive this carriage out of Sherwood."
"No." John
interrupted with quick glance at his feet. "You can have Gisburne. Who,
miraculously, still lives thanks to his cowardice."
"Fine. We'll
leave now." De Rainault decided quickly. Darkness was falling on Sherwood
and he didn’t want to be stuck in the cursed woods alone, with only Gisburne as
his protection.
John laughed and
turned to where Gisburne was bound at his feet. "It's your lucky day,
Gisburne. You get to live."
The soldier wisely
kept his mouth shut and climbed into the carriage seat, gripping the reins as
if they were a life-line. His injuries were forgotten as he wheeled the
carriage around and began rolling back toward Nottingham. He nervously kept watch
over his shoulder for any sign that the outlaws were following. Seeing no sign,
Gisburne called to the Sheriff.
"I don’t see
them, My Lord."
"That doesn't
mean they are not hidden there in those damnable trees," came the terse reply,
strained from the fear of a possibly slow death at the hands of his enemies.
"I'm not releasing Robin Hood until I'm certain they are not close enough
to kill us with those cursed longbows."
A few moments of
silence passed. The only sounds were the whistling wind through the forest.
"Keep going.
Quickly." The Sheriff commanded, keeping a close eye on his prisoner.
"Yes, my
Lord." Gisburne sighed as he slapped the leather reins against the horse's
backside.
The horses trotted on
with only the sounds of the rocks being crushed beneath their wheels. Night was
falling and Gisburne urged the horses to move faster. He, too, did not wish to
be caught in Sherwood after dark.
"Stop!" the
Sheriff called from within and Gisburne frowned.
Complying, Gisburne
pulled on the reins, halting the horses and the carriage. He hopped from his
seat and opened the door.
"Why are we
-?"
The Sheriff pushed
Robin out of the carriage and the outlaw landed with a hard thud to the forest
floor. "Mercy has been granted you, King of Sherwood, be certain you do
not take advantage of my kindness in the future."
Robin stared at the
Sheriff with emotionless eyes, shifting his bound position so as to lessen the
pain in his bound limbs.
De Rainault stared at
Gisburne," Well. What are you waiting for? Go!"
"Yes, My
Lord," Gisburne jumped into the seat and slapped the reins, urging the
horses into a trot.
Robin closed his eyes
and sighed, wincing as pain shot up his arms and into his shoulders. He'd been
bound for days, mercifully been unconscious for the majority of the time, but
his body was weak from lack of food. He closed his eyes and lay motionless
along the side of the road, playing dead to any soldier who may have been
following. In the back of his mind he heard the hoof-steps of horses but didn't
bother to open his eyes. He hadn't the strength to meet the death he was
certain would follow.
"Robin!"
Much called, dismounting his steed in mid-step and rushing to his
foster-brother's side.
"Careful!" Will
sounded from behind him, leaping off his own horse steps behind Much.
"He's injured." Will fell to his knees behind Robin and worked
carefully on the rope binding the outlaw's hands behind his back.
Much held Robin's
head, brushing back the ebony hair as it spilled over the young leaders eyes.
Robin moaned into Much's arms, eyes squeezed tight as if that simple gesture
would block the pain. When his arms
were free, he remained immobile until Will carefully righted his arms across
his chest.
John bent down and
lifted the young man into his arms, seeing that he would not be able to move of
his own volition.
"We need to get
him food and shelter." John murmured, staring down at his friend and the
obvious pain in his closed eyes.
"Thank
you," Robin murmured into Little John's jerkin, his voice barely a whisper
in the wind.
------------------
"Damn
them!" the Sheriff fumed all the way back to Nottingham. Two miles outside
the city gates, a garrison of soldiers arrived to meet the lone carriage
rolling quickly toward the city.
"Where were you an hour ago!"
"We only just
learned of the ambush, My Lord," The captain sputtered. "We mounted
as soon as we heard."
"I want you to
track down that cursed band of outlaws and kill every last one of them!"
De Rainault turned to Gisburne. "You ride on to London and tell the King
what has happened. Tell him we need more men if we are to put an end to this
damned outlaw!" He turned to the captain. "You take your men into
Sherwood and search every stinking town from here to London! Robin Hood is
injured; they will be looking for a place to tend his injuries!"
"Yes, m-my Lord
Sheriff," the captain stammered and motioned his men forward.
De Rainault watched
the horsemen ride in the direction of neighboring villages with a grin. He so
very much wanted to see his men capture and kill Robin Hood, but he wasn't
willing to risk his own life.
-------------------
The small village of
Sedwick was ill prepared for the arrival of the outlaws.
"Please,
please," the village leader, Mark,
asked for silence. The crowd surrounding the outlaws grew as news of
Robin's survival spread. "You must remain silent. If the Sheriff or the
soldiers realize you are here, they will destroy the village."
Will stared hard at
the man. "We destroyed them on the road to London today. There will be no
one left to come after you."
Mark looked around
nervously. " You can't stay here. Please, we are all happy that Robin
lives but we can't risk it." He bowed his head, unable to look any of them
in the eyes. "I'm sorry."
Chapter 6
Will stepped breast
to breast with Mark and stared him in the eyes. "Do you mean after all we
have done for you, you will not help us? When help is most needed?"
"Don't -
endanger - them -"Robin's hoarse whisper silenced the crowd murmuring
behind the two men as they all strained to hear his words. "Go else -
where."
"Robin,"
Little John stared down at his friend. "You are sick. Your injuries need
to be treated."
"If Marion was
here, she'd - " Much began and then shut his mouth when Will shot him a
silencing look.
"Marion,"
Robin slowly lifted his head, eyes searching the crowd. "Where - is -
she?"
"Don't worry
about that now," Tuck counseled, stepping beside Robin and smoothing a
chubby hand over their injured leader's forehead. "You need your rest.
When you are stronger -"
"Where is
she?" Robin whispered, dark eyes glaring at John.
The big man looked
away and whispered, "The Sheriff has her."
"And you went
after the Sheriff rather than rescue her?" Robin roared, voice cracking
from the strain. He lifted himself out of John's arms as much as his strength
would allow and stared at his men.
"And it's a good
thing we did too!" Will shot back," or we'd not have found you and
she'd be spending the rest of her life thinking you'd died at the end of that
noose."
"We have to find
her!" Robin slurred, what strength he'd gained with his freedom
disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"We will,
Robin," John soothed, cradling his friend tightly in his arms. To the
others he said, " Lets find someplace safe for the night where he can
rest."
Will glared at Mark
and quickly spat," Remember this the next time you ask for help. We will
not be here."
Nasir turned dark
eyes from Mark and led the way down the path toward Sherwood.
"Wickham is too
far," Will grumped, kicking at the rocks and branches that littered the
small pathway.
"Then let’s just
find some shelter and make camp for the night," Tuck suggested, trudging
ahead of his friends, "Robin will rest easier if he is not bent in John's
arms all night."
After a few minutes,
Tuck located a group of large firs with low-hanging branches off the small path
on which they were walking. He pulled down a few leaves and branches to make a
bed more comfortable for Robin to rest. Sitting protectively next to his little
flower's husband, he muttered a silent prayer for Robin's quick recovery and
Marion's well-being.
-----------------------------------
Marion glared at the
Abbess as she stood with several sisters at the entrance to Ravenscar. Ever
since Morgwyn had been discovered to be a devil worshiper and the sisters her
loyal followers, Marion had been wary of the place. Regardless the monastery
had been cleansed three times over before anyone was allowed within its gates
once again.
Soldiers flanked
Marion and the Abbess eyed them warily as she welcomed the young woman into the
Abbey.
"Thank
you," the new Abbess turned to Hugo, "We will take good care of her.
Soon she will turn from her wild ways and embrace God's wisdom."
"I should hope
so," Hugo folded his arms across his abdomen and stared at Marion.
"It is time for her to forget those ruffians she called friends."
-------------------------
"How's he doing?
Really?" Scarlet's concern for Robin shone through his hard gaze as he
stared at Tuck for an answer he hoped not to regret asking for.
Tuck sighed heavily
and turned away from his patient. "He's got a fever. I'm trying to keep
him chilled enough to bring it down, but I'm scared. They didn't take care of
his injuries while they had him in Nottingham and I'm afraid they’re
infected."
"Well what do we
do?" Scarlet was clearly not happy with this news. "Who do we go to
for help?"
"He needs a warm
bed and to be away from the harsh outside air. That would be a start."
Tuck placed a cool compress of moss to Robin's forehead.
"Tuck,"
Scarlet leaned down so that he was face to face with the fat friar. "Can
we do this? If not, who do we ask?"
“We can, with
difficulty.” Tuck sighed. “All the medicines needed, the forest will provide;
however, comfort and warmth to break the fever are luxuries that do not easily
come to us.”
“Then we will find
someone who will take him in. And you. The rest of us will stay in the forest
so we don’t attract attention.” Scarlet, his mind made up, stood quickly and
made his way back to where the others were standing not two feet away.
“The caves. There are
some, I know it. There has to be.” Much offered, wide-eyed with fear for his
brother’s continued well-being. “There are caves all over the mountainside.”
Much bounced at Scarlet’s side. “Why, there are even rumors that the crystal
cave of Merlin himself is located somewhere in these forests.”
“That’s a legend.
You’d do better not to think of such things.” Little John scolded, and Much
shrank back from the large man’s hard stare.
Much plopped beside
Robin, took his hand and muttered to himself. “I know I’ve heard the forest men
speak of it. I just know it. I’ll prove to John that I’m right. Somehow.”
Robin’s head lolled
from side to side in his fevered slumber, muttering un-identifiable phrases and
words. Much leaned closer to listen but was unable to understand the broken
phrases and seemingly strange dialects being uttered by Herne’s son.
-------------------------------
He walked alone in
the forest with nothing but the sweet singing of the birds overhead and the
wind at his back, whistling through the leaves.
He was no longer sick.
The fever had gone. But he was alone. His men were no where to be seen and
Marion, usually at his side, was noticeably absent.
Dark eyes scanned,
unseeing, through the brush, searching, for something unknown to him,
searching, for something Herne had brought him to these forests to find.
Something long lost. Something belonging to his people and taken abruptly away
by the former High King of the lands and his enemies.
A Raven swooped
overhead, diving abruptly to intercept Robin’s path. Directing the young man’s
attention and gaze to a small, dark opening at the base of the mountain beside
which he had been walking.
Brush and trees
covered the small opening. A cave, situated deep into the forest, long
forgotten, had once again been found.
-------------------------------
Robin
tossed in his slumber, muttering ancient phrases, with his poor upbringing, he
could never have hoped to learn.
Myrddin.
Maximus.
Artos.
Macsen.
Tuck and Much crept
closer to listen. Dialects and words flowed from the young leader’s lips like water, until his eyes flew open in terror
at the scenes his minds eye had witnessed.
His fever had broken.
In its place lay
knowledge placed before the young man’s eyes that none had seen, heard or
spoken in centuries.
-------------------------------
Marion’s thoughts
traveled to her dead husband, and her spirits tumbled. Her stride
slowed, her breathing became more labored, and her eyes were downcast.
The gardens were beautiful
at this time of year and Marion enjoyed the fragrant bloom of the flowers
crawling along the walls of the old building. Something, a glint of metal, a
gouge in the wall, caught the young woman’s attention and she stopped, staring
at a crawling vine, thick in bloom, hanging from one side of the far wall.
Flowers and large, waist-high bushes blocked her way, but she pushed around
them to reach the wall.
Marion took a few more steps, careful of the heavy vines
seemingly draped over the top of the wall. There was something written,
something gouged into the stone. An inscription, and it wasn’t Christian.
“Sister?” Marion turned around to her escort, arching her
neck around the top of the bushes to see the young woman standing in shock that
Marion had disappeared behind the bushes.
“Yes, Marion?” Came the meek voice of the young girl who had
been appointed Marion’s guardian.
“What is inscribed here?”
“I don’t know.” Came the
honest reply.
“You mean no one has bothered to investigate this?” Marion
stepped closer and tried to brush aside the thick branches. “ No one has ever
noticed the inscription here?”
“We are instructed to keep away from the moss and vine
covered walls, M’Lady.” The young initiate offered, eyes downcast, avoiding
Marion’s curious gaze.
“Why?”
“Evil lurked here at one time and was purged by the
Christian crusades. The inscriptions were left here as a reminder of what our
country used to be.”
“A country split by war and death, you mean? War between the
Saxons and the English? Between Rome and England before that?”
“Yes, M’Lady.”
It was no surprise to the Initiate that Marion had this knowledge.
As a King’s niece, Marion would have had the best educators, and indeed had
just proven she was given such.
“It is a history that no one in this country should forget.
We should learn from those bloody times so that days as such should not follow.”
“Yes, M’Lady.”
“I should like to see what is behind these vines.”
“No, M’Lady.” The young woman’s eyes widened in fear, “That
is forbidden.”
Marion stared at the young girl and back to the wall.
Smiling slightly at the partial inscription she could see clearly now, she
relented, determined to come back here at a later time – without her guardian.
“All right.” Was all she said to the young girl, and moved from behind the
bushes to continue her walk around the garden.
-------------------------------
“Where would they have taken her?” Robin stared at his men,
eyes boring into each one of them for the slightest bit of information they may
have on where the Sheriff had shipped Marion.
“We don’t know.” Scarlett frowned.
“We were too busy thinking about revenge for your death.”
Robin sighed. Visions of the mysterious cave lingered in the
back of his mind, but he pushed them away, unable to understand their meaning,
in favor of locating and rescuing his wife. He was used to visions from Herne
and was content not to pursue their meaning at this time. They would come of
their own volition, whether or not the King of Sherwood wanted.
“Word will have traveled. If for no other reason as she is a
relation to the King and would be closely watched and protected. The Sheriff
would never dare harm her.”
“I’d sooner trust a ravenous wolfhound as protection than
the Sheriff or wherever he has taken her.” John sneered, staring at Robin.
“As would I.”
Looking around, Robin watched the birds dart between the large
branches overhead, watched little critters scatter beneath anything that would
serve as protection from the intruders walking through their domain.
-------------------------------
As dawn broke over the horizon, Marion wrapped a shawl
around her shoulders, swept past her guardian and around to the wall at which
she had been forbidden to look. Marion cast a cautionary look over her shoulder
to make sure no one had followed her. Noting for the future that she would be
easily able to escape this prison, she took the small knife she had stolen from
her dinner the previous night and began to cut the tangled vines.
Pale fingers pulled vines away from the wall, Marion could
see that not only were there words inscribed into the stone, there was, what
looked to be, a covered doorway, long filled in with stone and brick.
Marion stared at the words, concentration plainly written
across her features. They looked strangely familiar, with their intricate
script and style. She had learned many
languages as a child in the King’s court but this was a language that was
foreign to her.
Which meant only one thing.
This place had been built or used by the armies that had
conquered Britain many centuries prior.
Long, pale fingers traced the letters as she struggled to
form a single thought from the mass of jumbled ones that flooded her mind.
Devil worship had been discovered here. Down in the dungeons
of this place. Where Morgwyn tried to raise the long dead Lucifer.
Talk was silenced about the place now, the Abbot making a
large spectacle of ridding the place of
the evil that had inhabited beneath.
As her fingers passed across a particularly long word,
darkness flooded her mind and she caught glimpses of what she would only later
be able to describe as a bloody, brutal past; The crowning of a bastard King; A
jeweled sword being raised in triumph as Britain unites under one King in
peace. The images passed across her eyes so quickly she had no time to form
coherent thoughts as to what she might be seeing. She was only able to decide
that none of the structures or people she saw in this vision were living today.
They had, in fact, been gone a very long time.
Marion pulled her hand away as if she had been struck by
lightening, gasping for air. She stared wide-eyed at what little she could see
of the inscriptions that were
not still covered by the thick vines growing along the
walls.
She raised her small knife and began to chip away at the
obvious seal in what used to be a small door. She knelt behind the large shrubs
when she noticed the top of the seal came no higher than her waist. Mortar
began to crack under her gentle pressure but would be very difficult to chip it
all away without anyone noticing. She began to lift the heavy vines away from
the wall rather than cut at them, the thick leaves providing shelter and
keeping prying eyes from her task.
She returned just
before dawn for several weeks, quietly chipping away at the seal before any of the
sisters or her guardian awoke. She was content, for now, to stay at the Abbey.
Her curiosity to find whatever was hidden behind this door, had overcome her
desire to return to the forest and her dead husband’s men.
As the days went by, she found herself content to be where
she was. She became more trusted, and allowed to walk the grounds alone. The
nights she took time from her books to reflect on her life, she wondered if she
would ever want to return to the forest. Her husband was gone and her desire to
remember their time together in the forest was too painful to think about.
-------------------------------
“Word is that she has been taken to Ravenscar Abbey,”
Scarlett crept through the trees to Robin’s side.
“Ugh,” John groaned.
“They cleansed the place,” Tuck offered.
“Wherever they’ve taken her, I’ll get her out.” Robin stared
at the trees as if they whispered their secrets in some sort of archaic
language.
“I’m surprised King John hasn’t asked her to be sent to
Court.” Tuck thought aloud. “That would get her out of the forest and under the
watchful eye of the insecure little weasel.”
At that, John gave a hearty chuckle. “ Why Tuck. How you
speak of your King.”
“And yours,” Tuck retorted. “He’ll do nothing good for this
country, I tell you. King Richard’s death was a blow to the Kingdom.”
“He’s not dead.” Robin whispered, staring at the sky.” He’s
waiting, hiding.”
“For what?” Scarlett spat, kicking the ground. “ For his
people to be starved and bled dry by his brother’s rule?”
Robin stared at his men with a glazed look on his face.
“England has done badly in the Crusades. Richard’s lost a lot of his followers, once grand supporters for the
Crusades, to John, who favors strengthening his own borders over invading other
lands.”
“What will it take for the people to see that John can do
this country no good by sitting on the throne?” Robin continued, as if someone
or something was speaking through him. His eyes cleared as quickly as they had
glazed and he stared at his friends.
Tuck crossed himself in the manner befitting his religion as
the rest of the men stared.
“Careful Robin,” Scarlett joked, “we’ll have to start
calling you a Seer.”
“I’ve never felt anything like that before.” Robin stared at
each of his friends. “It’s like something needed to be said and I was the only
outlet.”
“What that has to do with getting Marion out of Ravenscar,
we’ll probably never know.” Scarlett mumbled, clasping Much on the shoulder and
startling the simple lad.
Suddenly a raven fell from above, diving for something
unknown hidden in the trees. The men exchanged startled glances and realized at
once, that perhaps they had just been shown a sign.
In an ancient tongue, long forgotten, a Raven was called Myrddin.
Or…..
A Merlin.
Marion played into the Sister’s every word, reciting prayers
and seemingly forsaking her previous life. Once she had gained the Sister’s
trust, and was allowed to explore on her own, the young woman made straight for
the basement of the Abbey -- the very place where she and the rest of the
outlaws had been offered as a sacrifice to Lucifer over a year ago.
Marion searched, seemingly for hours, the walls along the
side of the structure that she was sure must contain something similar to the
covered wall on the outside of the building.
Discouraged that she was unable to find anything, and with
not much time, Marion turned to make her way back up the stairs…. when her eyes
caught sight of something large looming in the shadows.
Far in the corner of the underground chamber stood a large
altar and she walked slowly, carefully toward the unknown object. It was
covered and unidentifiable to any who specifically wanted to look at what was
beneath the large tapestry. The statue was easily twice Marion’s size and she
slowly lifted the tarp to look up at the strangely carved features.
It was a statue of a
God.
A God Marion did not recognize.
In a Christian Abbey.
As Marion’s eyes focused in the darkness, she stifled a
gasp.
She recognized the statue.
It was an image of Arianrhod; the mother to both a sun god
and a god of darkness. As history would have it and as Marion remembered it,
her place was taken by Morgause, Sister
to the once High King of Briton.
The discovery and recognition of the statue only compelled
her to search for an answer.
Her time was up for the evening and Marion returned to her
studies in the church, vowing to continue her efforts to unlock whatever
secrets may lie within the ancient walls of the Abbey.
-------------------------------
Her sleep was plagued with dreams. Those dreams unlike any
other she had ever experienced. Something was driving her. And she wasn’t sure
if she wanted to know what it was.
Night after night, Marion slipped downstairs, affording what
precious little spare time she had to discovering the secret of Ravenscar. She
slipped into the small space between the altar and the wall, searching for an
opening to the small waist-high doorway she had located on the outside of the
Abbey. She traced every inch of the wall with her fingers and could find no
indentations that this was ever an opening in the wall.
She sat in stillness for a few moments, thinking, wondering
what the inscriptions on the outside wall said. The language was one in which
she was not familiar.
Few people, she noticed ventured into the depths of the
Abbey. Memories of what had taken place down here obviously still frightened
most of the sisters.
Resting her hand on the base of the statue, Marion pushed herself
to her feet, the still air parted only with her sigh of disappointment at yet
another failed attempt.
As she stood, the stone beneath her palm moved, revealing a
hidden compartment encased within the statue’s base.
Wide-eyes narrowed as
Marion drew her small torch closer and pushed at the small opening, widening it
to fit her entire hand.
Something rested inside the chamber, long and encased in a
soft cloth wrap. As Marion reached inside, she noticed a small inscription,
this time written in a language she could read - Latin - which read ‘Here it
shall rest until the true heir returns.” For a second, Marion thought it
might mean the statue, but this was inscribed at the back of the base, low
enough to the ground that one would have to be close to be able to read or even
see the words.
Marion twisted her hand inside and grasped the sword,
pulling it quickly from the stone as if there was something hidden beneath that
would do her harm. She unfolded the soft cloth and stared at the jeweled hilt,
a short gasp leaving her lips as she instantly recognized the blade.
Marion quickly covered the steel and the statue and stood,
wondering how she would remove the sword without anyone seeing her. It was dark
and would soon be prayer time. All of the sisters would be in the chapel for
nightly prayers and confession.
Marion would be just a bit late.
-------------------------------
The commotion outside drew Marion to her window and she
looked down on the courtyard, squinting in the early morning light. Before she
had time to react, her door was thrown open, much like a time so long ago when
she lived in the Sheriff’s castle, and someone she thought never to see again,
rushed through the door.
She stood in momentary shock, realization slowly dawning
that what was once thought lost was now returned to her.
A myriad of emotions raced through her, short flashes of her
past life, exploding before her eyes like lightening bolts through a dark sky.
She stood forever locked in a dream-like state as images from her past pelted
her from all sides, leaving her breathless and unsure.
She didn’t know how long she had been standing there before
a strong, familiar embrace wrapped her tightly against his chest.
“Oh Robin,” Marion whispered, falling into her husband’s
arms and embracing him tightly. Her head fell against his chest and she
breathed deeply, inhaling the familiar scent of the woods on his skin.
Her body still tingled from the visions.
“Lets go,” Scarlett whispered from where he kept watch at
the door. “We have to move.”
Marion stiffened in her husband’s arms. With a flash she
realized what needed to be done.
Robin took Marion’s slim hand in his and made motion to
move. When the gap between the couple widened and Robin was unable to move any
further without releasing Marion’s hand, he turned a questioning glance toward
his wife.
The look in her eyes was all he needed to see. His heart
fell and his breath quickened.
“I can’t do it any longer, Robin.” Marion whispered, turning
away. “I can’t live each day knowing I might lose you.”
“What?” Robin gaped, staring at the long, red-gold tresses
cascading down her back.
“Go without me.” Marion whispered, drawing Scarlett’s
attention this time with her comments.
“You can’t mean this,” Robin closed the distance between
himself and his beloved in seconds. He turned her around and lifted her chin so
that he could search her downcast eyes. “Marion?”
“I love you, Robin. With all of my heart, until the end of
my life,” Marion whispered. “But here,” she indicated the Abbey, “ I’ve come to
realize, our paths must separate.”
“No.” Robin whispered, taking her hand in his and bringing
it to his lips.
Marion sighed and lifted her hand out of his grasp. Turning,
she bent to retrieve something from beneath a hidden compartment under her bed.
“Take this,” Marion implored, dropping the cloth-covered
sheath into her husband’s outstretched hands. “Keep it for the King until he
returns to claim his kingdom. Keep it safe, Robin.”
Robin stared at the blade as Marion placed it in his open
hands. “Look later.” She implored, as he moved to un-sheath the sword.
“It is the sword of Kings. And it belongs to King Richard.
Keep it safe until his return.”
Robin stared at Marion, dark eyes begging her to change her
mind. Her fingers covered his over the scabbard and she leaned forward to press
a gentle kiss to his lips.
She broke the embrace moments later and pushed him toward
the door. “Go. Protect the blade. Keep it safe. Safer than Albion.”
“They’re coming!” Scarlett called.
“I’ll return for you.” Robin whispered as John, against his better judgment, pulled the young
leader out the door.
Standing in the forest overlooking Ravenscar Abbey, Robin
unsheathed the sword Marion had thrust at him. The outlaws stood behind their
leader, watching, wondering, and remembering.
Robin pushed the fear of loss and loneliness out of his mind
as he turned the blade over in his hands.
With a heavy sigh, he stared down at the jeweled hilt that
had not been seen in more than a century.
Robin’s eyes widened as he looked down at the forged metal.
It was indeed the sword of Kings.
The same sword, born of blood and destruction, a symbol of
peace and prosperity, that was lost after the last great battle that finally
broke apart the peace of Arthur’s rein.
It now sat in the hands of the King of Sherwood.
And under his protection it would remain until the rightful
King came to claim it once again.
END