robin hood
Jul. 31st, 2008 09:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrI think this finishes up part one. still need a proper title, but eh. It'll come to me.
He sighed as he reached Tuck's church, and tethered his horse in front, before slowly strolling inside.
The sounds of torturous groaning filled the room, and he looked without sympathy at the man sprawled on the floor, robes hiked halfway up his hairy legs from rolling about on the floor, hay stuck positively everywhere, gripping his head lightly with both hands.
"Serves you right, Tuck," Will said, moving to stand just over him, looking straight down at the face contorted in pain. "Do not think god will give you any sympathy, not when you have been making the same fool mistake for at least half your life, and I am fairly certain you have been drinking this hard since you were ten."
Tuck groaned. "Good morning to you, too, Will Scarlet." He slowly opened his eyes and glared – but then his expression shifted to one of amusement.
Will quirked a brow.
"Why, Will Scarlet," Tuck said, snickering. Will realized a heartbeat too late Tuck could see straight up his tunic. "I see your back is not the only place you carry two swords."
"Tuck!" Will bellowed, mortified, feeling his face burn as he stepped hastily back.
Roaring with laughter, aching head apparently forgotten, Tuck slowly pulled himself to his feet. "Morning finds you well, Scarlet?"
"If you do not shut it," Will snapped, willing his face to cool, "I will give your head an ache fierce enough those left by your binges will seem trifling."
Tuck chortled, unfazed by the threat. "That is our Will Scarlet, so in control until someone mentions indelicate things. Now that you are sorry you came to see me, what can I do to help you?"
Will sighed and rubbed his temple. "I do not even know where to begin, anymore. Tell me more of my brother, and the Sheriff – everything, for I get a lot of shouting and waving of arms, but very little in the way of proper explanation."
"Well, with as much anger as there is about the place, I cannot think why you would expect to get better," Tuck said.
"Did my brother truly become a forester?"
Tuck snorted at that. "As though he would become anything else?"
Will smiled. "Of course. So what happened?"
"That Sheriff happened," Tuck said. "He came in with orders from the Mayor that all foresters and agisters were to be removed from their posts, and replaced with his own officials. Robert did not take it well, and demanded an explanation." Tuck grimaced. "To put it simply, the Sheriff more or less said that all foresters and agisters were no longer trusted by the Mayor or the Warden who had appointed them. You can imagine what the implication of treason did to your brother…"
"Yes," Will said soberly, balling his hand into a fist. "I take it matters only devolved from there?"
Tuck nodded. "Your brother 'left' after that, and has called Sherwood his home proper ever since. All the other local foresters and agisters – Little John one of them – joined him, and many others since have joined his band of Merry Men."
Will sighed and sat down on the hay-strewn floor. "Tell me more about the Sheriff, then."
"Sheriff Abraham Woodward of Nottingham," Tuck said, and began to pick at the hay clinging to his robe. "The Black Sheriff, some call him." His eyes flickered briefly with amusement. "Scarlet and Black, I cannot tell if you should be friends or foes."
"I cannot see us being friends," Will said, trying to sound amused, wondering why he felt disappointed. The man in the forest…
Was clearly a lie, or he had misread everything, or misremembered it. Something.
Perhaps, he thought in annoyance, he had been too busy admiring the man's pleasing features to note his personality properly.
"Some say he is bosom buddies with Prince John himself. Others say he is simply cousin to the Mayor."
Will frowned at that. "I had never thought the Mayor to be that bad a sort…unless Lord Ainslie is no longer mayor?"
"No," Tuck said, shaking his head. "You were not exaggerating when you said everyone has managed to tell you practically nothing." Snorting, shaking his head again, he continued, "Ainslie was killed round about four years ago. A pity, for he was as corrupt as any politician, but a decent sort of corrupt, so far as that goes." He scratched and the day or two worth of growth on his jaw. "Sir Guy of Gisbourne was appointed Mayor, by Prince John himself. Word is, he wants to be bosom buddies with Prince John, same any noble currying favor if you ask me. With that goal in mind, he works very hard to be an excellent Mayor."
"Bleeding the county dry to fund Prince John's excesses, you mean?" Will asked, unpleasantly reminded of all the corruption and general unpleasantness he had left behind when fleeing with Marion.
Tuck nodded. "Aye. Not that anyone can prove a bit of it, but its common belief that the tax money they seem to collect nonstop goes three places – Prince John's coffers, the Mayor's coffers, and the Sheriff's purse."
Will grunted. "I encountered him briefly on my way here." He explained all that had transpired.
Tucks brows went up when he finished. "Trying to find an ally, you think? He has no one around these parts to call friend or comrade. Even his own men, I think, follow him more out of fear than loyalty."
Will nodded absently, mind going again to the two different images he had in his head of the Sheriff – the quiet and sad man from the previous night, and the brutal Black Sheriff whom everyone hated.
They simply would not reconcile.
He almost started to speak of what had happened the previous night, that single brief encounter, but at the last he held his tongue. Better, he reminded himself, to gather more information first. "Is there anything redeeming about him?" He could not help but ask, hoping for something that would solve the riddle quickly and easily.
Tuck looked at him as though he were quite mad. "Redeeming?" he repeated. "I should think not. Man's heart is as black as pitch, and harder than stone. I suppose next you will want to know the redeeming qualities of Prince John?"
Abraham must be bad, if even Tuck was speaking so of him. He grunted at the mention of Prince John. "His Highness is beyond redemption," he said shortly, feeling the hot-cold anger stir in his gut, the bitter hate.
"Indeed," Tuck said, eying him askance.
"If the Sheriff is as bad as all that," Will asked, "why has no one killed him? I do not mean to sound cold or blunt, but it would hardly be the first time an unpleasant body has 'vanished' in Sherwood."
Tuck shrugged, and if he was disconcerted by the question, he gave no sign of it. "The Mayor is apparently fond of his Sheriff, for one. Some also say he is worse. Better by far to deal with the Sheriff fond of throwing men in jail or the stocks, than the Mayor who would just as soon kill you and be done with it."
Something prickled along Will's skin, an intuition he had long ago learned to obey, even if he did not understand what it was trying to tell him. "The Black Sheriff has not actually killed anyone?"
"None we have heard about, or can point a finger over," Tuck said with another shrug. "He prefers to lock them up and let them suffer."
Will nodded, but stored the bit of information away. He knew men like the Sheriff, had worked beneath them – had risen through the ranks with them, though their reasons for promotion differed vastly. They were in plentiful supply in the city, any of the larger towns. Brutal, cruel, and a blind eye was turned when they killed people. If circumstances warranted, the law said, and the law keepers these days had a very broad definition of 'warranted'.
Strange, he rather thought, to find one of that ilk who did not kill.
"Are you accompanying me to visit my brother?" he asked at last.
"I would love dearly to come along and take in the sight of Rob and John getting exactly what they deserve, but I've duties to attend. Never fear, however, I will come by in a few hours to bandage wounds and laugh at their expense."
Will smiled. "A good day to you then, Friar Tuck."
Tuck chortled. "Knock them good, Will Scarlet." They walked outside, and with a wave he went off toward the heart of town.
Mounting his horse, Will headed off toward Sherwood Forest. Once deep within it, a man appeared and led him silently through the dense trees to the encampment.
He saw immediately that Robert had prepared for his arrival – a sparring ring of sort had been made of the center of the camp, everything else cleared away.
At present, Robert was matching swords with a man Will did not recognize, though a glance around proved he did recognize a little over half the faces. He wondered how many of them were foresters and agisters who had been kicked from their posts. Probably most, if this had been going on for months and months. No one knew the forests better than those responsible for it, and a relatively new Sheriff would be no match for such a group of men.
With a resounding cry, Robert ended the bought, leaving his opponent on the ground laughing ruefully.
"That will not do you any good," Will called out.
Robert turned, and grinned. "No, but it does make me feel better."
Will laughed and moved into the circle as the other man stumbled out. "Clearly you are in need of some discipline. Like my men – no good without periodic beatings."
"You always did like to administer a sound beating," Robert replied. "Come on then, Will Scarlet, and instill lost discipline. It will come to nothing, but you are welcome to try."
"As you wish, Robin Hood," Will replied, and drew one sword.
Robert scowled. "There is no cause to be insulting."
Will smirked. "Prove to me I need to draw both," he replied – and attacked.
A few minutes of sparring proved only what he had expected – his brother was good. Very good – but he could and should be far better. Not that it was necessary of a forester, but with a man who was playing bandit and challenging the authority of the King's men…
He grunted and caught a blow with his sword, and kicked out with one leg, catching Robert unaware in the gut. As Robert's sword went slack with surprise, he shoved it away with his own, then swung back, catching his brother across the side of his head with the flat of the blade.
Robert started to fall, clearly dazed, but Will gave him no chance, holding him by the scruff of his tunic.
"Bastard," Robert gasped out. "You bloody cheated."
Will gave rough shake. "Cheated? I fight the way any soldier fights – the way you should be fighting, if you insist upon challenging the Mayor and Sheriff of Nottingham. Do you think, if you come up against them or their men directly, that they will fight you fairly? Hiding in the woods with bows and arrows and fighting overworked, underpaid soldiers is one thing – but someday soon you will find you have bitten more than you can chew, Rob. Clearly you do not understand what it is you are doing, and if I have to beat the sense into you – I will."
Robert glared at him. "I do not care what you say or do to me, Will, I am doing the right thing. The money and everything else they take belongs to the people of Nottingham. The taxes they demand time and again are not fair. WE cannot fight them openly for fear they'll hurt those we love."
Letting him go with another shake, Will replied, "Did you speak to the magistrate? Complain to the throne?" He bit back a feeling of hurt. "Damn it, Rob, if things were so awful, why did you not send for me? Did you believe I would not come? Did you think so little of me?
He knew it had been selfish to leave Robert alone, only two years after their parents died, but he had been no different than any other young boy dreaming of fortune and glory, of the wider world beyond Nottingham.
All he had found, of course, was that reality was nothing like dreams. Now, he was finally home, only to find that the poison of the wider world was seeping into his Nottingham.
"Of course I knew you would come," Robert said, his anger fading. "I think am a bit past the age of running to my big brother for help, however. Besides, I had no idea where you were, really. Soldiers often travel, you could have been anywhere, and my note would have reached you far too late to be of use to anyone." He gave Will an odd look, oddly solemn for his usually cheerful face. "I was happy to learn, if only by chance, that you were in fact alive."
Guilt flickered through Will. "I'm sorry. I should have written more than I did."
Robert shrugged. "It was rather amusing, actually. I had gone a few villages over on a favor, and was sitting in a tavern. A group of soldiers was in the back corner, talking and laughing, complaining about their superior officers. Two of them were from the city, and started bitching about their Captain." Amusement lit their eyes. "Another fellow thought he sounded familiar, and asked them to describe him. 'Right fierce bastard, wields two swords, always wears a crimson sash, temper to shake the very earth when its riled."
Will felt his face heat. "If I have such a temper, people should learn not to stir it." He looked at Rob. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"You're home now," Robert replied. "Even if you are being bloody obnoxious about my being an outlaw. I think I make a fine one."
"I think you're a fool," Will snapped. "However, I have others to beat before I return to you." So saying, he turned on his heel and faced Little John, lifting his sword and pointing. "You next."
Little John groaned, and started to launch into a protest, when a great crashing sound came through the trees – but even as everyone drew swords and bows, Tuck came into view.
"Will," he gasped out, clearly having run the whole way, face red from the exertion. "Trouble. Mayor—searching for—you know—"
Not waiting for him to finish, Scarlet sheathed his sword and ran to his horse. "Stay here," he snarled, when Robert made to come with him. "Do you think any good will come of showing your face now?" He gentled slightly at the hurt look on his brother's face. "I need you to go to the castle, protect her. If something seems wrong, take her to safety."
"I vow it," Robert replied, and turned to start barking orders.
He had a moment to be impressed at the speed and smoothness with which Robert's orders were obeyed, but in the next he was rushing away, racing through the woods as quickly as he dared.
As he reached the town, he slowed his pace, not wanting to look rushed and panicked.
Not far from the church, he found the crowd of people – including a heavily built man dressed in rich velvet and wool in bright jewel tones, sitting astride a white horse, sneering down at someone Will could not see. All around them, people were stone silent, fear and anxiety thick upon the air.
A few heard him, and whispered to still others, until attention seemed as much upon him as the pompously dressed oaf on the white horse, whom he presumed was the Mayor.
The stirring of the crowd drew the Mayor's attention, and he looked up and spotted Will. "You…you are Captain Scarlock."
His spine stiffened, not liking the tone, or the look, or the fact this man knew him on sight when he knew they had never met before. "Yes, my lord," he said stiffly.
"Mmm," the Mayor said, combing through his black beard thoughtfully. "I received a missive two days ago that you had deserted, and should be watched for here, as it is your home, I believe?"
"I have most certainly not deserted!" Will snapped, temper getting the better of him. He reined it in with an effort. "I am no deserter, my lord."
The Mayor merely lifted one brow. "Then why are you here, instead of where you were posted, without permission or having given notice?"
"I was attempting to explain it to you," said a cold voice, and Will looked toward it, seeing now that the Mayor had been talking to the Sheriff.
Abraham looked at him briefly, blue eyes flickering briefly with something Will could not read.
The Mayor flicked his gaze back to Abraham. "What?"
"As I have been trying to tell you," Abraham said with what Will thought was a shocking amount of disrespect and impudence, "he is here on my behalf."
Will froze with shock, and barely bit back an urge to demand what in the world he was talking about.
Abraham continued, "You have told me to concentrate my energies on the outlaws poaching and stealing in his Majesty's forest. I am doing so. We believe the bandits to be a group of yeomen, all of them having one trifling reason or another to blame the crown for their personal woes. One of those men, I believe, is one Robert Loxley. This is his brother, Captain Will Scarlock. He has agreed to assist me with hunting the outlaws, as no one would know Robert Loxley and his devious ways better. All the proper paperwork was sent, do not take issue with me or the Captain if your people cannot do their jobs. Until further notice, he is my deputy."
The Mayor did not look convinced. "Yet it was his commanding officer who contacted me about his desertion."
"Oh, yes, and their record-keeping skills are exceeded only by your own," Abraham snapped. "I have all my documents in order, do not take issue if the rest are too deep in their cups to recall who they told to go where and when."
"Fetch me your paperwork, then," the Mayor snapped.
"Fine," Abraham retorted. "Let us go to my home, well over an hour away, prove that I speak the truth, then come back here to resume the work we left off to look at a bit of paper. I do not know about you, my lord, but I have better things to do with my time than prove the general incompetence of the army."
The Mayor looked at him. "One day, Sheriff, your impudence will cease to be amusing and I will finally kill you."
"Yes, my lord," Abraham replied with a shrug. "Now that we have cleared the good Captain has every right to be here, was there anything else I can do to assist you?"
The Mayor peered at Will for several minutes, eyes narrowed in suspicion and thought – but even Will could see he was too lazy to really press the matter, and likely would forget it entirely once Will was out of sight. "Yes," he said at last. "Lady Marion has run away, or been kidnapped, we are not yet certain which. Has anyone suspicious passed through here?"
Abraham snorted. "Oh, yes, we saw a noblewoman come right through here and let her pass without remark. Do I look like a fool to you? No such person has passed through here, and if she had I would have sent word straight away of peculiar travelers in Nottingham."
"I should lock you away," the Mayor snapped. "Guard your tongue, Sheriff, else you will cease to be amusing very quickly. You were sent with a high recommendation from his Highness, but accidents do happen."
"Yes, my lord. My apologies."
The Mayor sniffed, then dismissed the matter. "Keep me apprised, and see that the paperwork for your little Captain is sent to me, so I may send confirmation back to those fools in the city and tell them to leave me in peace."
"Yes, my lord," Abraham said again.
With a final sniff, the Mayor motioned to his private guard and rode off.
The crowd dispersed with remarkable speed, but to judge by the looks he received, Will did not doubt they were rushing off to tell everyone else that Will Scarlet was now the Sheriff's deputy, brought home to catch his brother, the notorious Robin Hood.
He rubbed his temple, then slowly looked up – and realized that not quite all the crowd had dispersed.
Abraham stood looking at him, then slowly turned and mounted his own horse. He looked back once, eyes the color of an evening sky, and lacking the coldness Will had seen earlier that morning. No, those were the eyes he remembered from the previous night.
Then Abraham looked away, and rode off.
Drawing a deep breath, letting it out slowly, Will then flicked his reins and followed after him.
He sighed as he reached Tuck's church, and tethered his horse in front, before slowly strolling inside.
The sounds of torturous groaning filled the room, and he looked without sympathy at the man sprawled on the floor, robes hiked halfway up his hairy legs from rolling about on the floor, hay stuck positively everywhere, gripping his head lightly with both hands.
"Serves you right, Tuck," Will said, moving to stand just over him, looking straight down at the face contorted in pain. "Do not think god will give you any sympathy, not when you have been making the same fool mistake for at least half your life, and I am fairly certain you have been drinking this hard since you were ten."
Tuck groaned. "Good morning to you, too, Will Scarlet." He slowly opened his eyes and glared – but then his expression shifted to one of amusement.
Will quirked a brow.
"Why, Will Scarlet," Tuck said, snickering. Will realized a heartbeat too late Tuck could see straight up his tunic. "I see your back is not the only place you carry two swords."
"Tuck!" Will bellowed, mortified, feeling his face burn as he stepped hastily back.
Roaring with laughter, aching head apparently forgotten, Tuck slowly pulled himself to his feet. "Morning finds you well, Scarlet?"
"If you do not shut it," Will snapped, willing his face to cool, "I will give your head an ache fierce enough those left by your binges will seem trifling."
Tuck chortled, unfazed by the threat. "That is our Will Scarlet, so in control until someone mentions indelicate things. Now that you are sorry you came to see me, what can I do to help you?"
Will sighed and rubbed his temple. "I do not even know where to begin, anymore. Tell me more of my brother, and the Sheriff – everything, for I get a lot of shouting and waving of arms, but very little in the way of proper explanation."
"Well, with as much anger as there is about the place, I cannot think why you would expect to get better," Tuck said.
"Did my brother truly become a forester?"
Tuck snorted at that. "As though he would become anything else?"
Will smiled. "Of course. So what happened?"
"That Sheriff happened," Tuck said. "He came in with orders from the Mayor that all foresters and agisters were to be removed from their posts, and replaced with his own officials. Robert did not take it well, and demanded an explanation." Tuck grimaced. "To put it simply, the Sheriff more or less said that all foresters and agisters were no longer trusted by the Mayor or the Warden who had appointed them. You can imagine what the implication of treason did to your brother…"
"Yes," Will said soberly, balling his hand into a fist. "I take it matters only devolved from there?"
Tuck nodded. "Your brother 'left' after that, and has called Sherwood his home proper ever since. All the other local foresters and agisters – Little John one of them – joined him, and many others since have joined his band of Merry Men."
Will sighed and sat down on the hay-strewn floor. "Tell me more about the Sheriff, then."
"Sheriff Abraham Woodward of Nottingham," Tuck said, and began to pick at the hay clinging to his robe. "The Black Sheriff, some call him." His eyes flickered briefly with amusement. "Scarlet and Black, I cannot tell if you should be friends or foes."
"I cannot see us being friends," Will said, trying to sound amused, wondering why he felt disappointed. The man in the forest…
Was clearly a lie, or he had misread everything, or misremembered it. Something.
Perhaps, he thought in annoyance, he had been too busy admiring the man's pleasing features to note his personality properly.
"Some say he is bosom buddies with Prince John himself. Others say he is simply cousin to the Mayor."
Will frowned at that. "I had never thought the Mayor to be that bad a sort…unless Lord Ainslie is no longer mayor?"
"No," Tuck said, shaking his head. "You were not exaggerating when you said everyone has managed to tell you practically nothing." Snorting, shaking his head again, he continued, "Ainslie was killed round about four years ago. A pity, for he was as corrupt as any politician, but a decent sort of corrupt, so far as that goes." He scratched and the day or two worth of growth on his jaw. "Sir Guy of Gisbourne was appointed Mayor, by Prince John himself. Word is, he wants to be bosom buddies with Prince John, same any noble currying favor if you ask me. With that goal in mind, he works very hard to be an excellent Mayor."
"Bleeding the county dry to fund Prince John's excesses, you mean?" Will asked, unpleasantly reminded of all the corruption and general unpleasantness he had left behind when fleeing with Marion.
Tuck nodded. "Aye. Not that anyone can prove a bit of it, but its common belief that the tax money they seem to collect nonstop goes three places – Prince John's coffers, the Mayor's coffers, and the Sheriff's purse."
Will grunted. "I encountered him briefly on my way here." He explained all that had transpired.
Tucks brows went up when he finished. "Trying to find an ally, you think? He has no one around these parts to call friend or comrade. Even his own men, I think, follow him more out of fear than loyalty."
Will nodded absently, mind going again to the two different images he had in his head of the Sheriff – the quiet and sad man from the previous night, and the brutal Black Sheriff whom everyone hated.
They simply would not reconcile.
He almost started to speak of what had happened the previous night, that single brief encounter, but at the last he held his tongue. Better, he reminded himself, to gather more information first. "Is there anything redeeming about him?" He could not help but ask, hoping for something that would solve the riddle quickly and easily.
Tuck looked at him as though he were quite mad. "Redeeming?" he repeated. "I should think not. Man's heart is as black as pitch, and harder than stone. I suppose next you will want to know the redeeming qualities of Prince John?"
Abraham must be bad, if even Tuck was speaking so of him. He grunted at the mention of Prince John. "His Highness is beyond redemption," he said shortly, feeling the hot-cold anger stir in his gut, the bitter hate.
"Indeed," Tuck said, eying him askance.
"If the Sheriff is as bad as all that," Will asked, "why has no one killed him? I do not mean to sound cold or blunt, but it would hardly be the first time an unpleasant body has 'vanished' in Sherwood."
Tuck shrugged, and if he was disconcerted by the question, he gave no sign of it. "The Mayor is apparently fond of his Sheriff, for one. Some also say he is worse. Better by far to deal with the Sheriff fond of throwing men in jail or the stocks, than the Mayor who would just as soon kill you and be done with it."
Something prickled along Will's skin, an intuition he had long ago learned to obey, even if he did not understand what it was trying to tell him. "The Black Sheriff has not actually killed anyone?"
"None we have heard about, or can point a finger over," Tuck said with another shrug. "He prefers to lock them up and let them suffer."
Will nodded, but stored the bit of information away. He knew men like the Sheriff, had worked beneath them – had risen through the ranks with them, though their reasons for promotion differed vastly. They were in plentiful supply in the city, any of the larger towns. Brutal, cruel, and a blind eye was turned when they killed people. If circumstances warranted, the law said, and the law keepers these days had a very broad definition of 'warranted'.
Strange, he rather thought, to find one of that ilk who did not kill.
"Are you accompanying me to visit my brother?" he asked at last.
"I would love dearly to come along and take in the sight of Rob and John getting exactly what they deserve, but I've duties to attend. Never fear, however, I will come by in a few hours to bandage wounds and laugh at their expense."
Will smiled. "A good day to you then, Friar Tuck."
Tuck chortled. "Knock them good, Will Scarlet." They walked outside, and with a wave he went off toward the heart of town.
Mounting his horse, Will headed off toward Sherwood Forest. Once deep within it, a man appeared and led him silently through the dense trees to the encampment.
He saw immediately that Robert had prepared for his arrival – a sparring ring of sort had been made of the center of the camp, everything else cleared away.
At present, Robert was matching swords with a man Will did not recognize, though a glance around proved he did recognize a little over half the faces. He wondered how many of them were foresters and agisters who had been kicked from their posts. Probably most, if this had been going on for months and months. No one knew the forests better than those responsible for it, and a relatively new Sheriff would be no match for such a group of men.
With a resounding cry, Robert ended the bought, leaving his opponent on the ground laughing ruefully.
"That will not do you any good," Will called out.
Robert turned, and grinned. "No, but it does make me feel better."
Will laughed and moved into the circle as the other man stumbled out. "Clearly you are in need of some discipline. Like my men – no good without periodic beatings."
"You always did like to administer a sound beating," Robert replied. "Come on then, Will Scarlet, and instill lost discipline. It will come to nothing, but you are welcome to try."
"As you wish, Robin Hood," Will replied, and drew one sword.
Robert scowled. "There is no cause to be insulting."
Will smirked. "Prove to me I need to draw both," he replied – and attacked.
A few minutes of sparring proved only what he had expected – his brother was good. Very good – but he could and should be far better. Not that it was necessary of a forester, but with a man who was playing bandit and challenging the authority of the King's men…
He grunted and caught a blow with his sword, and kicked out with one leg, catching Robert unaware in the gut. As Robert's sword went slack with surprise, he shoved it away with his own, then swung back, catching his brother across the side of his head with the flat of the blade.
Robert started to fall, clearly dazed, but Will gave him no chance, holding him by the scruff of his tunic.
"Bastard," Robert gasped out. "You bloody cheated."
Will gave rough shake. "Cheated? I fight the way any soldier fights – the way you should be fighting, if you insist upon challenging the Mayor and Sheriff of Nottingham. Do you think, if you come up against them or their men directly, that they will fight you fairly? Hiding in the woods with bows and arrows and fighting overworked, underpaid soldiers is one thing – but someday soon you will find you have bitten more than you can chew, Rob. Clearly you do not understand what it is you are doing, and if I have to beat the sense into you – I will."
Robert glared at him. "I do not care what you say or do to me, Will, I am doing the right thing. The money and everything else they take belongs to the people of Nottingham. The taxes they demand time and again are not fair. WE cannot fight them openly for fear they'll hurt those we love."
Letting him go with another shake, Will replied, "Did you speak to the magistrate? Complain to the throne?" He bit back a feeling of hurt. "Damn it, Rob, if things were so awful, why did you not send for me? Did you believe I would not come? Did you think so little of me?
He knew it had been selfish to leave Robert alone, only two years after their parents died, but he had been no different than any other young boy dreaming of fortune and glory, of the wider world beyond Nottingham.
All he had found, of course, was that reality was nothing like dreams. Now, he was finally home, only to find that the poison of the wider world was seeping into his Nottingham.
"Of course I knew you would come," Robert said, his anger fading. "I think am a bit past the age of running to my big brother for help, however. Besides, I had no idea where you were, really. Soldiers often travel, you could have been anywhere, and my note would have reached you far too late to be of use to anyone." He gave Will an odd look, oddly solemn for his usually cheerful face. "I was happy to learn, if only by chance, that you were in fact alive."
Guilt flickered through Will. "I'm sorry. I should have written more than I did."
Robert shrugged. "It was rather amusing, actually. I had gone a few villages over on a favor, and was sitting in a tavern. A group of soldiers was in the back corner, talking and laughing, complaining about their superior officers. Two of them were from the city, and started bitching about their Captain." Amusement lit their eyes. "Another fellow thought he sounded familiar, and asked them to describe him. 'Right fierce bastard, wields two swords, always wears a crimson sash, temper to shake the very earth when its riled."
Will felt his face heat. "If I have such a temper, people should learn not to stir it." He looked at Rob. "I'm sorry," he said again.
"You're home now," Robert replied. "Even if you are being bloody obnoxious about my being an outlaw. I think I make a fine one."
"I think you're a fool," Will snapped. "However, I have others to beat before I return to you." So saying, he turned on his heel and faced Little John, lifting his sword and pointing. "You next."
Little John groaned, and started to launch into a protest, when a great crashing sound came through the trees – but even as everyone drew swords and bows, Tuck came into view.
"Will," he gasped out, clearly having run the whole way, face red from the exertion. "Trouble. Mayor—searching for—you know—"
Not waiting for him to finish, Scarlet sheathed his sword and ran to his horse. "Stay here," he snarled, when Robert made to come with him. "Do you think any good will come of showing your face now?" He gentled slightly at the hurt look on his brother's face. "I need you to go to the castle, protect her. If something seems wrong, take her to safety."
"I vow it," Robert replied, and turned to start barking orders.
He had a moment to be impressed at the speed and smoothness with which Robert's orders were obeyed, but in the next he was rushing away, racing through the woods as quickly as he dared.
As he reached the town, he slowed his pace, not wanting to look rushed and panicked.
Not far from the church, he found the crowd of people – including a heavily built man dressed in rich velvet and wool in bright jewel tones, sitting astride a white horse, sneering down at someone Will could not see. All around them, people were stone silent, fear and anxiety thick upon the air.
A few heard him, and whispered to still others, until attention seemed as much upon him as the pompously dressed oaf on the white horse, whom he presumed was the Mayor.
The stirring of the crowd drew the Mayor's attention, and he looked up and spotted Will. "You…you are Captain Scarlock."
His spine stiffened, not liking the tone, or the look, or the fact this man knew him on sight when he knew they had never met before. "Yes, my lord," he said stiffly.
"Mmm," the Mayor said, combing through his black beard thoughtfully. "I received a missive two days ago that you had deserted, and should be watched for here, as it is your home, I believe?"
"I have most certainly not deserted!" Will snapped, temper getting the better of him. He reined it in with an effort. "I am no deserter, my lord."
The Mayor merely lifted one brow. "Then why are you here, instead of where you were posted, without permission or having given notice?"
"I was attempting to explain it to you," said a cold voice, and Will looked toward it, seeing now that the Mayor had been talking to the Sheriff.
Abraham looked at him briefly, blue eyes flickering briefly with something Will could not read.
The Mayor flicked his gaze back to Abraham. "What?"
"As I have been trying to tell you," Abraham said with what Will thought was a shocking amount of disrespect and impudence, "he is here on my behalf."
Will froze with shock, and barely bit back an urge to demand what in the world he was talking about.
Abraham continued, "You have told me to concentrate my energies on the outlaws poaching and stealing in his Majesty's forest. I am doing so. We believe the bandits to be a group of yeomen, all of them having one trifling reason or another to blame the crown for their personal woes. One of those men, I believe, is one Robert Loxley. This is his brother, Captain Will Scarlock. He has agreed to assist me with hunting the outlaws, as no one would know Robert Loxley and his devious ways better. All the proper paperwork was sent, do not take issue with me or the Captain if your people cannot do their jobs. Until further notice, he is my deputy."
The Mayor did not look convinced. "Yet it was his commanding officer who contacted me about his desertion."
"Oh, yes, and their record-keeping skills are exceeded only by your own," Abraham snapped. "I have all my documents in order, do not take issue if the rest are too deep in their cups to recall who they told to go where and when."
"Fetch me your paperwork, then," the Mayor snapped.
"Fine," Abraham retorted. "Let us go to my home, well over an hour away, prove that I speak the truth, then come back here to resume the work we left off to look at a bit of paper. I do not know about you, my lord, but I have better things to do with my time than prove the general incompetence of the army."
The Mayor looked at him. "One day, Sheriff, your impudence will cease to be amusing and I will finally kill you."
"Yes, my lord," Abraham replied with a shrug. "Now that we have cleared the good Captain has every right to be here, was there anything else I can do to assist you?"
The Mayor peered at Will for several minutes, eyes narrowed in suspicion and thought – but even Will could see he was too lazy to really press the matter, and likely would forget it entirely once Will was out of sight. "Yes," he said at last. "Lady Marion has run away, or been kidnapped, we are not yet certain which. Has anyone suspicious passed through here?"
Abraham snorted. "Oh, yes, we saw a noblewoman come right through here and let her pass without remark. Do I look like a fool to you? No such person has passed through here, and if she had I would have sent word straight away of peculiar travelers in Nottingham."
"I should lock you away," the Mayor snapped. "Guard your tongue, Sheriff, else you will cease to be amusing very quickly. You were sent with a high recommendation from his Highness, but accidents do happen."
"Yes, my lord. My apologies."
The Mayor sniffed, then dismissed the matter. "Keep me apprised, and see that the paperwork for your little Captain is sent to me, so I may send confirmation back to those fools in the city and tell them to leave me in peace."
"Yes, my lord," Abraham said again.
With a final sniff, the Mayor motioned to his private guard and rode off.
The crowd dispersed with remarkable speed, but to judge by the looks he received, Will did not doubt they were rushing off to tell everyone else that Will Scarlet was now the Sheriff's deputy, brought home to catch his brother, the notorious Robin Hood.
He rubbed his temple, then slowly looked up – and realized that not quite all the crowd had dispersed.
Abraham stood looking at him, then slowly turned and mounted his own horse. He looked back once, eyes the color of an evening sky, and lacking the coldness Will had seen earlier that morning. No, those were the eyes he remembered from the previous night.
Then Abraham looked away, and rode off.
Drawing a deep breath, letting it out slowly, Will then flicked his reins and followed after him.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:27 am (UTC)It's so unfair. I've been able to not like the Sheriff in any story so far, and yet I already adore him in this. This is all your fault.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:38 am (UTC)Heh. It's no fun playing with a popular tale if I cannot contort it. The Sheriff is always a bad guy or a buffoon (or both), so I thought I'd tweak him a bit.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:34 am (UTC)Also, um, yay first response! Yay for the Sheriff not actually killing anybody. It seems like he's in the best of a bad situation boat. Maybe Will can get him out of it while he's getting him in bed... Hur hur hur... *looks innocent*
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:37 am (UTC)Yeah, that's the sort of thing I'll address when I edit. At this point, typing is more important to me than word choice. But thanks.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:44 am (UTC)No, you're fine. I'll remember what you said. It's just, I tend not to go back and fix stuff as I go anymore. I've found it's easier just to keep going forward, and not look back 'til I'm done. Stopping to fix every little thing slows me down and has before simply made me want to stop working.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:46 am (UTC)Hm, I like the interplay between the Sheriff and the Mayor - it lets the reader realize that not all is at it seems in Nottingham. (Not in Nottingham?) And our dear bipolar Sheriff is just trying to make the best of a bad situation.
And Marion - that hussy! Why is she running away? Did she get somebody pregnant?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:49 am (UTC)Oh, yeah, I leave off at bad points. Hello, Pot, my name is Kettle.
Bipolar Sheriff, ahahaha. Indeed.
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 06:58 am (UTC)Also, always knew there was something funny about Marion... never thought she was a hermaphrodite, though! The poor lads, they never thought they'd be butt-smexed by a woman!
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 02:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 04:34 am (UTC)be an interesting role for him. How he's going to juggle that role
and that of big brother and of protector of Marian...
Why is Marian in need of protection again? Is it just the normal, she's
going to be wed to someone she doesn't want to?
no subject
Date: 2008-08-01 04:47 am (UTC)Abraham is obviously protecting Will from the Mayor there, but why? And I get the feeling that Abraham is just going through the motions of being Sheriff, without actually trying very hard to catch Robin Hood.
I am much intrigued. ^__^
no subject
Date: 2008-08-02 01:23 am (UTC)like: how the heck, if abraham is (seemingly) good, did the OMFGEVIL prince recommend him?
like: what did marion do/running from?
like: oh will, how many minutes are you going to last before you just jump his bones?
thankee!