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It is two days since you both heard the sermon, and your fears are finally starting to abate. And then Robin comes to you while you are oiling tack. It is quiet, satisfying work, the smell of leather and steady motions of your hands calming after a morning following Robin on one of his hare-brained schemes.
“My father will equip me to go on crusade!”
There are many things wrong with this, but what you blurt out is, “And what shall I do while you are gone?”
Robin blinks. “But you'll come with me.”
You are mollified, but the cold in the pit of your stomach doesn't go away.
“We will be like Roland and Oliver!” he exclaims as you follow him out of the stable. He rolls his eyes when you remind him that they died in the end.
You follow him across the field and up the hill, shielding your eyes against the sun. Robin gazes out as if he could see the whole world, the gentle hills of the shire fading to desert and the glittering spires of a strange and holy land. You turn, and the homely sight of Locksley makes you want to run back to the safe familiarity of the stable. But then Robin grins, full of plans and life and hope. Well, someone's got to make sure he doesn't get himself killed.