Robin Hood

[maderr]

Consolidating Robin Hood story, as best I can. Part One in two sections, and the second post will have the start of Part Two.



Part One: Return to Nottingham

"Here now, milady," Will said, as he opened the carriage door and offered his hand. "Have a care, the steps and ground are quite slick from the earlier rain."

The hand which reached out from the carriage to rest in his was fine-boned and delicate as a bird's wing, though he knew they held strength not readily apparent. It gripped his firmly, soft white leather bright against his own much rougher and worn black ones. The hood of her cloak was drawn up, shadowing her face against the light of the late day sun, but he could see the hint of a smile as she stepped gingerly to the ground, holding her skirts high in her other hand to keep them from the mud.

Behind her came a maid, holding up what portions of the heavy, cumbersome skirts her mistress could not manage.

"Thank you, Captain Scarlock," she murmured, "for getting us here so quickly, and agreeing to come along. I know you will be sorely missed…"

He kissed the back of the hand he still held. "Now, milady, you are too dear a friend to me to leave you here all alone." He smiled briefly, looking around a landscape he had not seen for some years, but had never forgotten. "Nottingham is my home, besides, and I must ensure she is presented well to you."

A soft laugh, and he was glad to hear it, for since… His mouth tightened briefly, and his hands wanted badly to draw his swords, but he shoved the rage and hate aside, for his only mission at present was to protect her now. He would not fail a second time.

Turning, he tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow and led her across the vast courtyard. "Castle Huntingdon, milady. Long has it been in disuse, save as a guard post, since the last Earl of Huntingdon was hanged for treason."

"It is in markedly good repair."

"Aye," Will replied, mouth curving briefly in a sad, nostalgic smile. "He was regarded as a traitor by the crown, but the folk around the village always spoke of his kindness, his devotion to them. They maintain the keep, in respect to that memory."

They drew to a halt as they reached the line of servants which had assembled themselves outside the keep proper. Will drew himself up, resting his free hand lightly on the hilt of one of his swords. He pulled away slightly, lifting the delicate hand in the air, his own wrapped protectively around it. "Good people, I present your new mistress, Lady Marion, here to make Castle Huntingdon into a proper home once more. Give her your allegiance and your love, and she will give the very same to you. Milady, your most humble and devoted followers."

Lady Marion pushed back the hood of her cloak and smiled at the servants – who in turn stood gawking for more than a moment. Though a wimple hid her golden curls, her face was breathtakingly lovely enough on its own, and she had a smile to melt the coldest of hearts.

He should know, for his had been deemed quite cold before she won his devotion.

Will bit back a smile, pleased that so far a good impression had been made. It had been a daring move, to take over the long abandoned castle as a refuge for Lady Marion, but one he had been certain would find success. No lord had claimed it in decades now, and those who watched over it had no love of the crown.

Should that crown come to Nottingham searching for the missing Lady Marion, no one here would speak of her presence.

Now, where was the very man he had written to arrange all of this…?

"Where is Tuck?" he asked, when a second glance about failed to reveal him.

Several of the older servants looked at him in surprise. Will nearly laughed, for it was clear they had not expected him to say that name – it was a local one, not a name to be known or used by a soldier of the King, come to Nottingham only in the past few minutes.

He wondered who would recognize him first.

The old woman who likely commanded the household, a woman who oft had watched him and his brother when they were mere boys, peered at him through narrowed eyes.

He sketched her a bow, and grinned.

"Bless my soul!" the woman exclaimed, hands going to her breast. "Is that Will Scarlet?"

"Aye, madam," he said, laughing now. "I see I am not entirely forgotten."

She strode toward him and trapped him in a fierce hug. "My word," she said, when she at last stepped away. "Look at you, now. I did not recognize you until that smile, full of trouble, just like that brother of yours."

Will laughed again. "Where is that brother of mine? I wanted to write him, but did not trust he would be about to receive it."

"Wise of you," she said, clucking her tongue and shaking her head, looking sad. "I'm afraid he ran off months ago, after having it out with the local Sheriff. It was that or stay and be arrested, and your brother never had a taste for being locked up."

"Robert never had a taste for being still," Will said dryly, fighting back his disappointment. He had hoped that upon his arrival, he would find Rob somewhere about the place. If there was anyone he had well and truly missed when he had departed to seek his fortune, it was his half-brother.

"Where is Tuck, then?" he asked. "I had thought he would be here to meet us."

The woman clucked her tongue again. "Like as not, the good Friar Tuck," she winked at him, "is at the monastery tending to some trouble or another. That Sheriff!" She sighed. "Come now, Will, you should get a bit of rest. Your journey must have been a long one, especially seeing as we did not expect you until the morrow."

Will was tempted to give in, for an hour or so of rest would be a fine thing indeed. He had exhausted himself ensuring they got here as quickly as was possible, and without being followed by the scoundrels Prince John would have set to keep watch upon his latest conquest.

"Nay," he said, finally forcing the refusal out. "There is much yet to which I must tend. See that Lady Marion is cared for, and I will return as soon as I can."

"Be careful, Will Scarlet," Lady Marion called out, eyes sparkling with mirth.

He rolled his eyes. "Aye, milady." He wondered how many stories she would be told of his boyhood before he managed to return, and hid a wince. So much for retaining his dignity as Captain Scarlock.

Bowing to her, he accepted the horse a soldier had waiting for him, and mounted, riding off back toward the town. He pulled up the hood of his own cloak as he went, against the threat of rain promised by the lingering dark clouds. He had feared the foul weather would forestall their journey, but it had held back until the very last, when they were well past the worst of the roads and closer to the castle.

His home had not changed in the past thirteen years, not really. Little things here and there, but by and large it was much as his memories had preserved it. He had not known how he would truly feel upon his return, but being here…

Odd as it was, he was near giddy with joy. He had missed his home more than he had thought, and wondered now if he would be able to leave it again once it was safe to restore Lady Marion to her proper place.

He drew to a halt before the small church at the far end of the village, around which the oldest buildings of the town clustered, the smaller, more recent dwelling spilling out from those beginnings. His own family's humble little home was at the very edge. He could see it now, though did not recognize the woman who stood in the doorway, calling for her children.

Turning away, he dismounted and tied his horse, then strode into the chapel, pushing back his hood. "Hallo!" he called, voice an echoing boom in the wide, empty room.

It was as bare and simple as he recalled, with faded strips of old cloth covering the few windows, to block out as much cold as possible. Torches were lit at the farthest end, but they offered little in the way of light, even less in the way of heat. The floor had been recently tended, though, for the straw was still relatively clean and undisturbed.

There was a door at the far end, no doubt leading to the more private rooms, but he was only halfway across the chamber when it swung open to admit a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in the humble robe of a friar.

He immediately recognized the face, though it had aged fourteen years. The red curls he remembered were gone, the head shaved smooth – but it was one of his oldest and dearest friends, of that there was no doubt. "Tuck!"

Tuck stared for a moment, then broke into a grin. "Will! You made it! I am sorry I was not there to greet you, I was taken off to deal with a minor problem at the last." He crossed the room and swept the slighter Will up in a tight embrace, causing Will's eyes to water.

He coughed when Tuck finally set him free. "Tuck! Why are you a friar?"

"Various reasons," Tuck said, and grinned, "not least of which is all the food and ale which I am given."

Will rolled his eyes, and wondered what the real reason was, though he did not doubt for a moment Tuck was as free with his ale as he had ever been. "Where has my brother gone?"

"A good question," Tuck said grimly, but again did not offer an explanation.

He was beginning to sense that something was amiss with his brother, something more than simply running afoul of the Sheriff. Thinking about it started up a throbbing ache in his head. He loved his brother dearly, more than anyone else on earth – but he had long ago lost count of the number of times they had nearly found themselves strung up in the village square for one brilliant idea or another hatched by Robert.

"Well, come," he said, and clapped a hand on Tuck's enormous back. Always large, it would seem Tuck had not really stopped growing in the years Will had been gone. "We have brought fine wine along with us, and you are more than welcome to help deplete it. Though I do beg you not to do so all in one night."

"Yes, Captain," Tuck replied, shaking his head and laughing. "Off to seek your fortune, and it would seem you found it. Robert will laugh, of course, but you look well, Will." He reached out and tugged at the bright scarlet sash wrapped around Will's waist. "Some things never change, eh, Will Scarlet? Do they call you that, in your fancy city?"

"No," Will replied. "I have not been called Scarlet since I left."

"Well, it is good to have you back," Tuck said, and threw an arm over his shoulders, leading them from the chapel and back out into the streets.

"Friar! Friar!" Two women came running up, caps tumbled from their hair from the haste with which they had been moving. They gasped for breath. "Robin Hood has struck again, and this time he stole the deer meant to be taken to the Mayor this evening."

Tuck said words that a friar perhaps should not. "I will have to enjoy that wine with you another day, my friend," he said to Will. "Pardon me, this is a matter I must address at once." He ran off in the direction opposite the castle, robes held high so as not to impede his movements, and Will watched until he vanished into the dark of Sherwood Forest.

Will felt a cold chill at the back of his neck. He turned to the women, sketching them a deep bow. "My pardon, but who is this Robin Hood of whom you speak?"

The woman laughed, cheeks flushing as they regarded him. He had never been as handsome as his rapscallion half-brother, but he had never suffered from unfavorable looks. Often, they worked to his favor, as it would seem they would now. He and Robert both had their bright blonde hair from their mother, but Robert's eyes were blue where his own were green, and he had always been a bit more rugged than his almost winsome younger brother. He was also more slender, taller, though in thirteen years that all could very well have changed.

"Oh," one woman tittered. "Have you not heard about him, then?"

"Nay," Will replied, wondering if these two were girl he had once played with in the city streets. He did not recognize them…but he had always spent far too much of his time admiring his friends, while they admire the girls. He coughed. "I am arrived only within the hour."

"Robin Hood is enemy to the Mayor and Sheriff of Nottingham," the other girl replied. "He and his men, they rob the crown's officials whenever they pass through here. The Sheriff has been going quite mad trying to find him, but so far he's had not a bit of luck."

Surely not…please let his instincts be wrong. "What is this Robin Hood like?"

"Oh, he's a bold one," the first woman said, tittering again. "Fine hand with a bow, they say he's equally fair with a sword, and faster than any man alive. They come close, but never quite catch him. Call them all the Merry Men of Sherwood."

Will bit back unseemly language, and bowed again. "Thank you. Now, I think you should get on home before it grows dark and your men begin to worry."

Laughing, flushing, they curtsied to him and then turn and ran off, still giggling to each other.

Swearing colorfully, Will mounted his horse and rode off in the direction Tuck had taken.

The woods were filled with shadows, the slowly setting sun not completely able to breach the thick trees.

He had not gone far when a warning arrow landed several paces ahead of his horse.

Will dismounted and drew one sword. "If it is a fight you want, Merry Men of Sherwood, then come out and face me like men."

Laughter echoed through the trees, but there was a great deal of arrogance in it.

A moment later a man nearly as large as the trees themselves appeared.

He might have known that Little John had been dragged into this farce. John and Robert had always been partners in mischief, with he and Tuck left the unrewarding task of getting the lot of them back out of the scrapes in which they had been mired.

John approached, a quarterstaff held lightly in one hand. "You stand no chance against me, little soldier of the King."

Will barred his teeth. "I have thrown you in the creek at least a dozen times, Little John, and bested you in thrice as many sparring matches. Now tell my good for nothing brother to show himself so that I might give him the thrashing he clearly needs."

He got a dumbfounded, disbelieving look for a moment – then John threw his head back and laughed, dropping his quarterstaff to wrap both his arms around his middle section as the laughter consumed the whole of his body.

"Well, I will be damned!" He finally exclaimed. "Will Scarlet, returned to us at last!"

"Where is my brother?" Will demanded.

John clapped him on the shoulder, nearly causing Will to fall over. "Come, come, we will take you to him. He will be happy to see you, Scarlet!"

"Not after I beat his head in," Will muttered, but sheathed his swords and allowed himself to be led deeper into the forest.

His temper sparked and began slowly to burn as they made their way slowly through a maze of trees. Once, he had raced through this forest with impunity, his only though to catch up to Robert and John, to prevent their doing something or knock them senseless because the deed had already been done.

When he saw the encampment – clearly in preparation for a long campaign – he nearly lost his temper right then and there. He did not know what Robert thought he was doing, but Will intended to knock some enough sense into his thick head there was no more left for such nonsense as this.

People stilled in surprise as they saw John and the others returned unexpectedly, voices stirring in an anxious murmur as they saw their fellows had arrived in the company of a stranger – and one dressed like a royal soldier, at that.

Before anyone could speak or act, a familiar clear, bright – at present displeased – voice cut through the camp. "Little John! Who the hell—"

The figure stalking toward them drew up short, mouth gaping open in shock – then he burst into a delighted grin. "Will! No one told me—you bloody bastard—"

Despite his anger, Will could not help but return Robert's enthusiastic embrace.

"You sly bastard!" Robert said as they broke apart. "Why did you not send word you were returning? I would have arranged a worthy welcome."

The question recalled Will to the true reason for his visit to the depths of Sherwood Forest. "You buffoon!" He snapped, and cuffed Robert upside the head. Then he grabbed the front of his tunic, and shook him until he was fairly certain he could hear Robert's teeth rattling about in his foolish, empty head. "What do you think you are dong? An outlaw? Did Little John knock you upside the head one time too many, that you think this is a wise recourse?"

He did not wait for an answer, but immediately rounded on John. "What would your mother say? I would have thought that in thirteen years," He jabbed John's chest hard with his fingers, "at least one of you would have managed to acquire a measure of sense! A bit of maturity!"

Movement caught the corner of his eyes, and he latched onto his next victim. "Tuck! You let them carry one with this nonsense? You have intelligence, I bid you keep them from this sort of atrocious behavior! Nor could you give me the slightest warning. I should thrash you after I am done with them."

"I see the Scarlet Temper has not cooled in thirteen years," Robert muttered.

Will swung around, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Robert held his hands up in appeasement. "Peace. Sorry, Will. Look, you've no idea what has gone wrong in your absence. The new Sheriff what took over two years ago is a right bastard. He and that Mayor…" He glared at something only he could see. "For starters, John's mother cannot harangue him for being an outlaw because the Sheriff arrested her months ago for falling behind on her taxes." He spat the words out. "He does all the work for that fat toad Mayor, and takes entirely too much pleasure in doing it, if you ask me. They're bleeding Nottingham dry as a bone, the two of them, between the taxes and the increased restrictions on where we can hunt – and every other little thing what occurs to them. They tried to run me off, but look at all that has earned them."

He shook his head, motioning impatiently. "Never mind all that for now, Will. The important thing is, you've come back to us. The four of us together again, not even the King himself could stop us."

Will smiled briefly, feeling a pan of nostalgia. He did miss the days the four of them had run about Nottingham as though it were their own private kingdom. Everyone had known them on sight – Scarlet, Rob, Little John, and Tuck. Those had been the days, all right.

"Nay," he said, forcing the word out. "This is foolishness, and it will only end in tragedy. I'll not be party to your deaths."

Robert looked hurt and angry. "Oh, right," he snapped, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. "Gone thirteen years, leaving me alone, turning away from your friends – then you appear as though from nowhere and decide you still have the right to tell me what to do."

Will glared at him. "Look at what I wear! You are lucky I do love you, little brother, else my uniform would oblige me to hand you over to this Sheriff myself. I cannot be an outlaw—" Because he was already dangerously close to being one anyway, and did not wish to rush that unhappy circumstance. "Because I have another duty which takes precedence to helping you with this tomfoolery."

"Duty," Robert said the word as though it were poison. "Duty to the very crown which is permitting the destruction of your home?" He reached out and shoved Will hard. "Bugger off with you, then, and take your duty with you."

Losing all desire to control his temper, and in no mood for such petulance, Will swung hard and knocked his brother right in the jaw. "Now listen to me," he snapped, hoping that the stark silence which had fallen around the camp meant at least a few people were listening and learning. "I gave you a chance to explain, and you damned well will do the same for me before you go off to sulk. I am here in secret, to hide and protect a woman who was herself wronged by that very same crown. Turning outlaw now would endanger her, and I cannot risk that."

Robert slowly stood up, and brushed off his clothes – then moved with all the speed for which he had been known as a child, returning the punch Will had given him full measure.

Will grunted, and reeled back a few paces, but did not fall down.

"A woman?" Robert said after a moment. "Never say you are smitten, brother."

Will bit back a sudden wild impulse to say that no, he would not be smitten unless something tall and dark and handsome, with decidedly male attributes, stepped into his path and made his interest quite plain. "No," he said coolly. "Milady has my devotion, but no claim upon my heart. She is a friend – nay, more a sister."

"No claim upon my heart," John mimicked, batting his eye lashes. "Pretty Will Scarlet has fancy words to go with that fancy face, now."

Will rolled his eyes. "Me, pretty? I seem to recall 'twas yon Robin Hood who dressed as a fair shepherdess to fool that drunkard shepherd who let his sheep run about all over. What did you call yourself?'

"Clarinda!" Tuck said, chortling so hard his face turned bright red. "You were a pretty lass, Rob, I do declare."

Robert grinned. "Yes, I know. I could see plain enough how I affected you. Thought you were going to lift my skirts and have a go."

"Bugger off," Tuck said cheerfully. "John, go fetch the ale!"

"Nay," Will said regretfully. "I cannot stay, though I would enjoy it. I promised milady that I would return as soon as possible, and I have already been gone too long.'

Robert made a face. "Barely do I see you, and off again you run, back to some maiden. You cannot even raise one glass to our family reunion?"

"I will raise a glass to us when I know you will not be swinging from the gallows as an outlaw," Will said tersely.

Robert smirked. "What if I were to swing as something else?"

Will cuffed him. "Clearly no one has maintained discipline in my absence. That will be addressed with all due haste on the morrow. Enjoy your ale this night, brother, for with the rising of the sun you will have something far greater to fear than a Sheriff."

John and Robert groaned, but any protest Robert might have offered was cut off at a look from Will.

Brother properly quelled, Will softened. "It is good to see you again, Rob. I have missed you."

"And I you," Robert said gruffly. "Get on, the, back to your 'milady'. I will see you tomorrow."

They embraced again, then Will turned to John. "Take me back."

John nodded, and without a word turned and led him back through the forest, to the clearing where Will's horse stood patiently waiting.

"It really was our only recourse," John rumbled in his deep voice. "That Sheriff—wait until you meet him. He's a blight upon the land. We have no other way to fight back; if he knew who we were, he would know our families, and use them against us."

Will sighed, but bit back all the arguments which came to mind. "We will discuss this tomorrow. Good night, Little John."

John grunted, but smiled and rested a hand briefly on Will's shoulder. "Good night, Will Scarlet."

With a last nod, Will rode out, keeping his horse to a slower pace so that he could keep his mind more on his thoughts and less upon the road. He had not expected Robert to turn into an exemplary model of citizenship in his absence, but this—it was too much. Just the thought of what could happen…all the executions he had seen, after he had arrested more than a few of the outlaws himself…

No, he would have to stop this now, before something happened that could not be undone. If this Sheriff was as terrible as they said, and it was unfortunately far too possible he was, then going the path of outlaws would ultimately cause more harm than good.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he had given his brother a parting cuff upside the head to give him an aching head of his own to ponder the rest of the night.

The sound of another horse drew his attention, and he looked up, expecting to see another on the road. He was past the town, and halfway back to the castle…and there was no horse. Casting further about, he finally just spied the horse off in the woods.

Was someone hurt? Lost? Simply loitering about? He hoped the man was not poaching…

Turning his horse off the path, Will led it toward the horse which proved to be tethered to a tree.

Dismounting and securing his own mount, he wandered a bit further on until he came to a creek in which he and his brothers had played many a time. It was relatively secluded here; they usually played a bit closer to the castle, where it opened into a field that as often as not was thickly carpeted with wild flowers.

A man sat on the bank, legs drawn up so that his forearms rested upon his knees. His clothing was entirely black, and Will could see discarded leathers nearby. Whoever he was, he did not go about in armor, which meant he was no knight. A commoner, then?

He stepped upon some fallen leaves, creating just enough noise to draw the stranger's attention. The man whipped around, and Will found himself struck.

Handsome was not the word he would use to describe the man, though something about him certainly captured the eye. He had sharply cut features, with a nose just slightly too big for his face, but it drew the gaze to eyes that were the color of the late evening sky above them – a deep, dark blue not quite faded yet to black. The finest scar ran the length of his chin, visible only because the rest of it was covered in a day's growth of beard, His hair came to his chin, the ends crudely cut, as though he had done it himself, not able to afford a more skilled hand.

Though plain and worn, his clothes seemed of good quality, and they were old enough they fit him well, shaped to every sharp cut of muscle. A sturdy sword belt was slung low on his hips, and the hilt of his sword seemed to indicate the blade had not come cheap.

No, handsome was not the word he would use. He did not know what word he would use, but whatever it was, Will could not look away.

"My pardon," he managed to say. "I heard your horse, and wondered if perhaps someone was in trouble. I did not mean to disturb your solitude."

The man looked startled – and Will realized abruptly that he also looked tired, and even a trifle sad. "Nay," the man said, and his voice was deep, with a hint of a rumble to it, and Will did not doubt for a moment that voice would be part of his dreams that night. "I should be on my way. You are both new and familiar…"

"Aye," Will replied. "I lived here many years ago, and have returned only this day."

Slowly the man stood up, bundling together his discarded leathers. "By your face, I would guess you to be the brother of Robert Locksley. Will Scarlock, is it not? Though, I believe the villagers call you Will Scarlet."

Will nodded. "Aye, though I am embarrassed that you know me, and I do not know you."

The man smiled, though it was hesitant, as though he were not used to smiling. "Forgive me." He seemed to hesitate a moment. "I am Abraham Woodward, and I am only come to Nottingham in the past few years. Your name is a popular one in discussion amongst the villagers."

"I hope it is only my name they speak, and not tales they should not be telling," Will replied.

Abraham smiled again, and this time Will was certain there was sadness in it. "Your name is all I hear, I do vow it. No unseemly tales have been told to me, so ease your fears. If you are returned only this day, Will Scarlock, then you must be tired and looking for your bed. I hope the evening finds you well."

Bowing his head and shoulders in a courteous half bow, Abraham strode past him and up the bank, vanishing over the short rise. A moment later Will heard him ride away.

He made a note to ask Robert about Abraham – after he had knocked his brother around for an hour or three, and lodged a bit of sense in that thick head.

Mounting his horse, he rode quickly back to the castle.

Full dark had fallen by the time he reached it, but torches had been lit throughout, making it a bit easier to see about the place.

Earlier, in the courtyard, he had been too distracted by other matters to linger long over the castle itself. He had even more to linger upon now, but…

He could not even clearly remember the last time he had stood in these halls. Thanks to the kindness of the villagers, it was not fallen into disrepair. The heavy beams across the ceiling were as he remembered them, though the banners which had once hung from them were long gone. Rather than mere rushes, his father had taken care to put in a proper wood floor – to impress the love of his life, so she would marry him, he had often said with a wink toward his wife.

Once, four tables had graced the hall. Three were gone now, leaving only the main where the family had always sat, with the rest of the household at the others. It stood right before the great fireplace, in which a small fire currently was laid.

Marion sat at the right end of it, her gold hair glowing in the firelight as she ate from a bowl of soup. She looked up at the sound of movement, and smiled at him in welcome.

He wished, not for the first time, that he could love her the way a man should. It would not be a bad life, indeed it would be a fine life, to take Lady Marion to wife and raise a family with her here in his old home. Though he never before had claimed his birthright, he could if he chose. His father had hanged as a traitor on the orders of Prince John, but the Prince did not yet have the right to reclaim the title.

If he married Marion, they could live here in peace and comfort, and he could retire from the army life he had led for the past thirteen years. All her problems would vanish with the union, as well.

She was only as a sister to him, though, and his love held none of the passion she deserved.

"Will," Marion said warmly, standing to greet him though he motioned her to stay seated. "Thank you again, for all that you have done. It cannot have been easy, to convince the villagers to permit me the use of this castle. I did mean it when I said I would be content with a farmhouse. Such trouble as this was not necessary."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Milady, you deserve far more than this simple castle. Please, do not trouble yourself thinking about it. I assure you no one minds seeing the castle used once more. Sit, and eat. You need your strength."

She nodded, smile fading into an anxious frown at the mention of needing her strength – but she was not one to hide from realities. He had never known her to, even when reality was the greatest of burdens.

"You should eat as well," she admonished. "I know you have scarcely slept, let alone dined, since our harried departure. That is my fault, of course…"

Will cut her off with a sharp motion. "Milady, there is only one person to blame in this entire affair, and 'tis not you. Now, enough recriminations. We have made our choices, and we gain nothing by regretting and fretting over them. Did you get to explore the castle?"

"Yes," Marion said, shaking her head at him slightly, laughing softly. "It is beautiful. I think it a shame that it has gone uninhabited so long. Did the unfortunate Earl have no family to remain in residence?"

"They thought it best to leave after he was killed, fearing what might happen if they lingered," Will replied with a shrug. "Like you, milady, they knew that being titled and wealthy were not vital to a happy life."

Marion nodded. "Did you know them?"

"In passing," Will replied, ignoring a niggling guilt. Until it became necessary, he reminded himself, there was no sense in adding further complications. "Is your room adequate?"

"Yes," Marion said. "It's beautiful. A woman's room before, I believe."

"Yes," Will said, and almost bit his tongue as he nearly said 'my mother's'. "The Countess. Her private solar." He wondered if it still smelled like her, the wild lavender she and the other women had picked themselves to scatter amongst the trunks of clothes.

He reached for his wine, and took a deep draught to ease the sudden tightness in his throat. "The circumstances are far from ideal, milady, but I hope your manage to enjoy your stay, however brief or long it might be."

"I am enjoying it already," Marion said, and reached out to cover his hand with her own, smiling in her gentle way, that said she loved him as he did her. The bond had been there from the first, when he had first come to her aid. He had missed his brother these past fourteen years, but he had gained a sister. "Truly. This is the first time I have felt as though I can breathe, in a very long time."

He turned his hand to capture hers, squeezing it gently. "Good," he said, and fell silent as a servant brought them the next course and refilled his wine. "I wish I could take you riding about the village," he said when the servant had gone, "but it is too soon to take such risks."

"Oh, I think I can occupy myself indoors for a time." Marion smiled and nibbled at her food. "I and the women were talking of pulling some things out of storage, getting a bit more color to the place. Not that it lacks," she added hastily.

Will laughed. "Of course it lacks, milady. It has been closed up for almost two decades now. I am certain soon you will be overwhelmed with all that the villagers will want to do to make it a proper castle again. Do as you see fit; I will see you are left with plenty of coin."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Will," she said softly. "I wish…"

He returned the smile, and briefly stroked her cheek. "As do I, but we both know our fates lie elsewhere, though we know not where."

"I prefer not to think about," she said, face twisting in wry amusement. Then her face turned suddenly impish. "Many an interesting tale have I heard this day, Captain Scarlock. Did you know, some young boy called Scarlet once ran through the village, without a stitch of clothing?"

Will choked on his wine, and felt his face heat, no doubt turning the very color after which he was called. "Of all the stories!" he said with a groan. "Rob tricked me into that one, I vow it. Never again was I foolish enough to bet against him, especially when he and Little John whispered together for a time beforehand."

Marion giggled. "Little John! Oh, I have heard a tale or two about that one, and your brother Robert."

"I can only imagine," Will said dryly.

"Oh, I do wonder what your men would think, to hear the childhood tales of the fierce and terrible Captain Scarlock."

Will mock glared at her. "They had better not ever hear them. Milady."

She giggled again, and pressed a finger to her lips, winking. "Not a peep from me, Captain, I do vow it."

He nodded, and eager to keep her happy and laughing, drew out which tales had been told, and added others to her store, until it grew so late they both began to fall asleep in their sweetmeats.

Rising, he offered his arm and escorted her to her room, kissing her hand and wishing her a good night.

Then he made his way back downstairs, too restless from being truly home again to know quite what to do with himself.

"Your bed is prepared," said a voice behind him – the woman from this morning. Alice, he recalled her name to be.

"My bed?" Will asked. Being the Earl's children, he and Rob had slept in the attic rooms.

Alice smiled in polite amusement. "Yes, my lord. Your bed."

"Oh," Will replied, comprehension dawning, and he looked at the fireplace, which was open on both sides to provide light and heat not only to the hall, but to the solar behind it where his parents room had been.

His room, now, it would seem. It felt…wrong, somehow. Impertinent, perhaps. "I have no intention of taking up the title again," he said, worried that rumors were already flying about.

Alice clucked her tongue. "Of course not. That would not be like you at all, Will Scarlet. Still, it is your bed and you will sleep in it."

Never let it be said he did not know how to follow an order when it was issued. Sketching a bow in graceful defeat, Will gave one last look around the great hall, then strode off to bed.

*~*~*

When he woke, his first thought was that something was wrong.

He was mostly dressed and scrabbling for his swords before it dawned on him where he was, and another moment or two before the comprehension sank in that of course here, at Castle Huntingdon in Nottingham, that a relatively quiet morning was not something about which he had to worry.

Breathing a sigh of relief that he would not have to go yanking his men from the beds of whores or the stables where they had been tossed after drinking too much, even more relieved that there were no angry nobles or vile princes to be placated if not avoided altogether, he finished dressing at a calmer pace.

Smiling at the smells of the country, especially the fresh bread coming from the kitchens, he tugged on his boots and strapped his swords in place, then went to find someone from whom he could cozen breakfast.

A fine repast already awaited him, however – as did a familiar face.

"Rob," he snapped. "What in the devil are you doing here?"

Robert grinned where he was comfortably ensconced in the chair Will had occupied the previous night. "Why, I came to bid my brother good morning, of course."

Will rolled his eyes. "You came to see milady."

"Well, if she happens by, I shall probably look," Robert replied.

"It is entirely too early to endure the sight of you," Will groused, and dropped down onto the opposite bench, tearing into the bread and cheese set out, thanking Alice as she brought him a tankard of cider.

Robert laughed. "You are the one who said I would be in great pain come the rising of the…" He drifted off, bread slipping from his fingers.

Will smirked, and stood as he turned, striding over to Marion, who had just arrived. Not expecting guests, she had not bothered yet to put on her wimple, hair pulled back only loosely, so that many curly strand slipped forward to fall against her cheeks and neck.

"Milady," he greeted, taking her hand to guide her to the table. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," Marion replied, smiling at him. Then she slid her gaze back to Robert. "I need not ask who this young man is," she said formally, and Will almost snorted. They were not more than two years apart, Robert and Marion. Then again, especially of late, Marion had always been too old for her age. "You are Will's younger brother."

Robert stood hastily up – not, Will noted with a barely smothered laugh, as graceful as usual – and bent in a bow that was remarkably elegant. "Milady," he said. "Robert Loxley, at your service. An honor to make the acquaintance of one my brother holds so dear." He rose, smiling, all his charm brought to the fore. "You are far too beautiful for humble Nottingham."

He was vastly underestimating Marion, and Will was more than happy to let him learn that the hard way.

"You are quite the charmer, I see," Marion said, polite and friendly – but unmoved.

Robert laughed, though Will could see he was a bit startled. "Milady? Do I offend? I mean only to be friendly; my brother spoke quite highly of you, and he never speaks well of anyone if he can help it."

Marion shook her head. "Simply an observation. I would not care to offend the brother of my dearest friend. I note only that you possess a great deal of charm."

"Charm is not a bad thing to have," Robert replied, sensing now he was being challenged. "Indeed, it is a good thing to have. Look at my brother," he said playfully. "He has none."

"Yes," Marion replied, "and it is his most charming quality." She gave him a polite nod, then made her own way to the table, resuming the seat she had occupied last night.

Will smirked at his brother, who stood looking horribly confused.

Then Robert scowled, and took his own place at the table once more.

"So what are you going to do today, Will?" Marion asked when everyone was settled and eating.

"I thought I would spend the day with my brother," Will replied, tone idle but a glint in his eyes as he briefly glanced Robert's way. "Ah, do not let me forget to leave you coin, milady. Also, Alice should have the master ring of keys. Do tell her I said to give them into your care." He smiled. "I look forward to seeing you restore this place to its former glory.

He saw Robert giving him a look and gave a minute shake of his head. They would discuss it later.

Robert returned the nod, and reached for more cheese. "I wonder what remains of the old rose garden. I recall m—the Countess had a fine time getting those old thorn bushes to grow." He laughed. "My favorite words and phrases, I learned from listening to her fight with the rosebushes."

"I did not explore the outdoors much," Marion said, looking thoughtful – and amused, though Will doubted his brother could see that. "I shall seek out what remains of the roses later today, perhaps." She looked at Robert. "What do you do, young brother of Will? You did not follow him into the army?"

"Ha!" Robert declared. "He practiced his sword upon me growing up; I was not going to follow him so that he could do it further and with the King's blessing. I remained here, and fell under the tutelage of one of the local foresters. He died five years ago, and I have taken up his duties, appointed by the Warden himself." Bitterness flickered briefly across his face, gone so quickly Will almost doubted he had seen it.

He had thought Robert was merely being flippant – witty, but flippant. Suddenly he wondered if his brother were being honest. Had he been a forester before turning outlaw? Certainly no one had known Sherwood better growing up.

Yet one more thing about which he must inquire, when he had the chance to speak to the appropriate persons, as he would never get a proper answer from his brother.

Conversation turned back to the castle shortly after that, and Will put his questions away until he could address them properly. He let his brother attempt to flirt with Marion for a few more minutes, then cut it off when it was clear Robert was about to meet with a resounding defeat. He pushed his empty tankard away and stood. "I am afraid we must be off. Milady, I do hope you enjoy your day. Send someone to find me immediately if you should encounter any trouble."

"I will do that," Marion said, and reached out to cover his hand with her own. "Have a good day, Will." She turned to Robert. "The very same to you, of course."

"Thank you, milady," Robert said with less grace than he would usually display, obviously still feeling the sting of Marion's smooth rejections. He stood up, swallowing a last few bites of food.

Amused, for it was rare that Robert faltered about anything, Will nodded once more to Marion, then led the way to the courtyard.

"So are you coming with me?" Robert asked.

Will considered. "No," he said after a moment. "I believe I will pass through town, first. See what there is to see in the full light of day."

Robert's lip curled. "The Sheriff is about, no doubt looking for someone to arrest."

"No doubt in his efforts to catch an outlaw," Will said tartly.

"We are fighting back the only way we can," Robert snapped. "I wish you would see that."

Will glared at him. "Breaking laws and endangering lives is not the best way to handle the problem."

"You have not been here," Robert snarled. "Do not tell me what is best."

"I will see you shortly," Will replied coolly. "We can discuss this further then."

Robert turned away and mounted the roan mare that a servant brought to him. "As you wish." He turned to go.

"Is Tuck with you?" Will asked, forestalling him. "I want to speak with him."

A reluctant grin curved Robert's mouth. "No, we deposited him in his church just before sunrise. I am certain at present he is devoutly at his morning prayers."

"Indeed," Will said dryly. "Why in the world is Tuck Brewster turned monk?"

Robert shrugged, his momentary levity dying. "His idea, not longer after that new Sheriff arrived. He could not afford the taxes owed on his family's inn, not with his mother sick – she died this past winter."

Will winced. "I am sorry to hear it."

"Do not mention it to him, quite yet. He still does not hold together well," Robert replied. "Anyway, the last friar wandered off one day and never came back." He squinted thoughtfully. "My money is still that he was drunk and is lying dead somewhere in Sherwood, but so far the body has not turned up. Animals, as like as not." He shook his head. "Tuck took it up on a lark, thinking initially it would keep him from jail himself. I think he's rather come to like it, though. You know Tuck. He gets along with everyone. Running a church is not completely different from running an inn and tavern, or so he tells me." He shrugged again. "Since I and Little John and some others took up…foresting…he has also proved vital in obtaining and passing along information."

Will shook his head. "Little John I understand, but I thought Tuck had more sense than to get mixed up in such nonsense."

Robert snorted in exasperation and amusement. "His exact words were 'this a foolish idea, and if Will were here he would beat you black and blue for even considering it. I am not Will, alas, and I cannot seem to talk you out of it. So I will help you, since that way I can keep you out of some trouble, and hopefully alive.' So he helps."

"True enough," Will said with a sigh. He looked up at Robert. "Black and blue is what you will be at the end of the day, do not doubt that."

"Then you are going soft," Robert retorted, "for once you have left me on the ground colored scarlet." He raised a hand in farewell. "I will see you in due course, brother." Turning his horse, he rode off.

Shaking his head, equal parts amused and aggravated, Will called for his own horse and a moment later was riding away himself.

He arrived in the town to find it strangely subdued. More than a few looked fearful, almost all looked miserably resigned. The further into the town he got, the worse it seemed to grow, until he could hear a loud, angry voice.

"Did you think you would get away with it?" the voice asked coldly. "Has not a one of you idiots learned that challenging me is futile."

"Robin Hood—"

The protest turned into a choked cry.

Will lightly touched the hilt of one sword as he rounded the corner, and took in the scene dominating the small square at the center of a cluster of houses.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair, dressed head to foot in black, held a smaller, older man by the front of his tunic – and well off the ground.

The dark-haired man…

Will drew a startled breath. The man he had seen last night – Abraham, his name had been. Surely he was not…

But even as he thought it, the dark-haired man turned and threw the older man against his home, sending him crashing into the crates and bundles and other miscellany neatly stacked there. "I think it will be the stocks for you," Abraham said coldly, his voice so unlike the one Will had recalled over and over in his bed last night. "This is your second offense, Thatcher. You had best make certain there is not a third."

"Y-yes, Sheriff," the man said, not moving to recover from his awkward and painful landing.

Will frowned. "Here now," he called. "What is the meaning of this?"

Abraham jerked his head around, and Will saw his eyes widen briefly in surprise before they turned flat and cold again. Nothing, he thought bewilderedly, like the man he had met last night.

"Captain Scarlock," Abraham greeted. "There is no need for you to offer your assistance. I have tended matters."

"I—" Will bit off his reply, recognizing it for the trick it was – he was a royal soldier, he could not simply state he refused to assist with the maintaining of order and the upholding of the King's law.

Yet he could not stand by and simply watch the Sheriff – for the blazon upon his leathers made it perfectly and painfully clear that Abraham Woodward was the nefarious Sheriff of Nottingham about whom he had heard so much since his return – hurt the people of his town.

"Sheriff," he said, as politely as he could manage without choking on it. "Of what crime is this man guilty?"

Abraham motioned dismissively. "Petty theft. Poaching. I would simply throw him in jail, but," he bared his teeth in a mocking smile, "the jails of late have been quite full. So, the stocks for eight hours." He motioned to his men, two of whom moved forward to take up the old man and carry him off. "Perhaps that will teach him to cut purse strings and shoot arrows where he ought not."

Will said nothing. He could see that people wanted him to do something dramatic, that many recognized him by name at least, if not by sight.

He dared not try anything, and the look in Abraham's eyes said he knew precisely the dilemma Will suffered.

"You could lessen it to four hours," he suggested with a bored shrug. "The man is old, and old men are oft addled. Tomorrow he'll like as not cut the purse strings of his own woman."

The Sheriff threw his head back and laughed. He motioned to the men who held the old man. "Very well, Captain, I will indulge you, as we are brothers in arms and all."

"I thank you," Will replied, and rode on, not lingering on the chance only more trouble was stirred.

He could feel the discontent, the glares upon his back, but what would they have him do? Dash about like a Robin Hood himself? Foolishness. There were better ways to solve such problems, and this very day he would begin to deduce what those alternative methods might be.

The brief encounter in the woods flickered through his mind, and he tried to overlap it with the Sheriff he had just met…the two would not mesh, save in appearance. Even that did not align properly, for the dark eyes had today been frozen, and the voice colder still.

Perhaps he was only remembering things as he wanted, and an encounter of a few moments was hardly anything by which to judge...

Shaking his head, he pushed the matter aside, for at the moment he did not have enough information to ponder, never mind use to make an informed decision.

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 close friends with Prince John himself. Others say he is 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 close friends with Prince John, same as 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 a dangerous and harmful person has gone 'missing' 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 bout, 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.