Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

 Quintessence of Life

Part 3

Fight for Peace

Prologue

The air was fresh, pure and cool; the sky was dark, and the bleak sun was slowly rising in the east. Sir Robin Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Count de Bordeaux, stood near the window, looking outside, into the harbor of Calais. He watched the howling storm rage over the sea, the stones of the pier shaken by the violence of waves. The weather was wretched and wet, and every vessel was anchored in the harbor as sailors waited for storms to abate before trying to cross the English Channel.

Sir William de Longchamp had left Robin and his friends the next day after their arrival in Calais. Robin’s plans to sail to Dover the next morning had been ruined by the weather. Robin and his friends – Sir Robert de Beaumont, the Earl of Leicester, and Sir Carter of Stretton, Baron Clifton – were the most anxious men among the travelers; Archer, Will, Djaq, and Tuck were able to wait patiently.

Robin let out a sigh of frustration and despair. Today he didn’t go to the harbor with his friends and his newly found half-brother, staying in his room at the inn and trying to have some rest at the insistence of his friends. He waited for Robert, Archer, and Carter to return, and he was very restless; he often paced the room back and forth, or he could stand near the window, looking at the leaden sky, praying to God for a break in the weather.

“Are you again watching the storm?” a familiar voice spoke in English with a slight Eastern accent.

Robin turned around and locked his gaze with Djaq’s. A large smile blossomed on his face, and Djaq smiled back at him. He stalked towards the young Saracen woman and scooped her into his arms, pulling her into an affectionate embrace. He was happy that Djaq had accompanied them on their voyage back to England not only because she was a physician and he often needed her help, but also because he loved her and wanted her back in England.

Robin drew back and stared at Djaq. “I am glad to see you, Djaq.” He took a step back.

Djaq smiled at him. “Is that really better to see me than watching the storm?”

Robin’s eyes sparkled with the old, familiar mischievous twinkle. “Yeah, you know that I am a ladies man. I like women more than storms.”

Djaq laughed. She was very fond of Robin’s dryly humorous nature right from the start of her life in Sherwood, and now she was also relieved to see a glimpse of the old Robin with his shining eyes and his cheeky smile. She was concerned about Robin since his awakening in Jerusalem. As a qualified physician, she knew very well how profound an impact of death could be on a patient, and she watched him with an attentive, keen eye every day, trying to understand what was happening in his head.

“It is good to see you in a better mood.”

A smile was gone from his face, and his expression evolved into one of sarcasm. “Well, sometimes you cannot pretend that you are in a good mood.”

She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know you are perplexed.”

“Yes. I am very worried about King Richard.”

“I think even worse than worried, Robin.”

Robin was locked in a silent battle with his chilling emotions throughout many days since he had heard about the king’s disappearance, and his heart turned leaden at the thought of Richard’s possible death. He didn’t want to lose Richard – his king, confidant, friend, and half-brother after surviving his seemingly mortal wound. He loved Richard too much to lose him so soon after he had learned the truth about their relationship. He was ready to do everything to save the king and England.

There was a tremulous wail of mournful fear in Robin’s heart. He feared that King Richard was in grave danger and that Prince John would do something bad to Marian. He had to save Richard again. He had to save Marian from the clutches of Prince John and the Earl of Buckingham. He also wanted to know what had happened to Guy when the fool had tried to kill the sheriff and had been captured by Prince John’s men. He tried to push a throbbing ache deeper inside himself, but without success.

“Yes,” he confessed.

“I understand.”

“The waiting time is like an eternity,” Robin complained.

“And your anxiety is increasing with every day passing,” Djaq voiced her observations.

“Yes.” His voice was barely audible.

Djaq gave him a long, ever-penetrating glance; then she sighed heavily. “But you are worried not only about the king,” she said cautiously.

“You understand me much better than others.”

“You are a difficult man to understand, Robin.”

“Yes, I am,” Robin agreed, a tiny smile quivering in the corners of his lips.

“It is about Marian, isn’t it?”

“Of course.” He glanced away, his eyes focused on the vast expanse of the raging sea. “She is held captive in the Tower of London. They are going to coerce her into a marriage with Buckingham.”

Djaq knew that Robin was also torn between two women – Marian and his wife. “Have you understood whom you love more?” she asked directly.

Robin turned his gaze at Djaq. “I can hide nothing from you, Djaq.” He was quiet for a moment. “I love each of them differently,” he confessed with something like regret in his voice, bowing his head as if he were unable to look at the woman who could read his thoughts so well.

“Robin, you cannot allow yourself to be so confused! It won’t make you and your wife happy!”

He knew that she was right. Marian’s confusion with her feelings had brought much pain into Guy’s life and his life as well, and he didn’t want to cause more pain to Melisende and himself. “And how can I do that, Djaq? I cannot prohibit myself from feeling just because I want it to stop!”

Djaq stared into his eyes. “You have to ask yourself one simple question,” she continued, stressing every word she spoke, as if she were guiding him from his confusion to the truth that shone with an unearthly glow in the darkness. “Ask yourself whom you need more – Marian or Melisende.” At the sight of confusion on his face, she decided to elaborate. “You have to ask yourself what gives you peace – your love for your wife or your lingering affection for Marian.”

“My love for Melisende,” he answered unhesitatingly.

“Love cannot always bring pain. Love cannot always result in a war with your partner,” Djaq speculated. “You have sweet memories of the happy and carefree days of your youth, and you may love Marian as a part of these days, but now you have a family.”

Robin smiled brightly, his eyes sparkling. “I do love my wife and my son.” Then his smile faded away. “And it would have been a great loss to me… if something happened to one of them.”

“Then you should love what you have at the moment, Robin.”

“Not looking back, right?”

“That’s what I mean. Sometimes it is better to run away from your problems, and this is one of the few cases when you have to do that, Robin.”

Robin sighed. “I told my wife that I love her when we were in Bordeaux.”

“And it is true. Everything else – the past – is not important.” She could see the painful glitter in his eyes, knowing how difficult it was to show his naked soul to her, but she was glad that he did that. “And then it will be as God wills it,” she concluded.

Robin looked thoughtful, his gaze distant. “I was very happy, very fortunate, very arrogant, very impulsive, very righteous, and very proud,” he said in a low voice vibrating in his chest. “Too fortunate. Too arrogant. Too righteous. Too hot-headed. Too happy for a little while. Most importantly, too full of illusions.” He gave a heavy sigh. “And now I am lost and confused.”

Djaq turned her gaze at Robin, her eyes penetrating too far into his thoughts. “Death often has such a strange effect on those who cheat it – you begin to see the world in a different light.”

Robin nodded at her, and she nodded back, a sign that she had understood him. Indeed, Djaq knew what was happening to him – he struggled to find his true path in the world after his resurrection. Djaq could also see that Robin wasn’t entirely ready yet to face reality and struggle with the demons that had driven him to the very brink of sanity. He was overwhelmed by conflicted, intimidating emotions lately, which hurt somewhere deep inside of him and clouded his perception of reality.

Robin had undergone a cycle of nature – he had died and then had come back from the dead. He was somewhere between the past and the present, and his future seemed misty and bleak. Robin longed to again experience a sensation of perfect bliss, which he had felt by during his dying moments when he hadn’t wanted to come back to earth, not wishing to take an invisible hand that had been extended to him in order to direct him on the route back to life. He was glad that he had survived, but his burning desire to again feel the same bliss terrified him out of his wits.

He was constantly haunted by nightmares, by visions of doom and death. Flashes of the tragic scene when he had lain on the crimson-soaked sand in Imuiz sent a chill of dread through him. In such moments, squeezing his eyes shut, Robin forced his mind to go blank, and he felt as if a black hole were opening up inside him every time he thought back to the events in Imuiz. At least dreams of normal, peaceful life became more frequent, not like during the first days after his awakening when he had almost expected that he would die by sunset.

Robin had come to terms with reality, accepting that the past was gone forever and that he had a new life ahead, but it was not easy at all. The world was whirling, changing its colors from black to white. Robin's mood changed as rapidly as time moved forward. He could be frightened and in a moment elated, scared and then excited, hoping desperately that the peculiar limbo, where he was living in, would finally end.

Robin sighed audibly. “My world has changed too much, and so have I.”

“You don’t have dreams and illusions left, do you?” Djaq knew the truth, but she wanted confirmation.

Robin swung around and walked away from the window. He seated himself into an armchair near the hearth. By the glowing firelight, he looked excessively pale as he leaned back in his seat. In spite of having spent several months in Jerusalem, Robin hadn’t tanned even a little, for he had been sheltered from the sun by the roof of the palace where he had spent all the time recovering from his wound.

Staring into the emptiness of the room, Robin spoke. “At times, you have to take part in a bloody war, spill a lot of blood, lose some of your friends, save the king, lose a woman you loved, and finally give your own life for the cause – only to understand that it was all for nothing because your fight has always been ultimately futile.” He trailed off, lowering his head, his chin on his chest. “You make war for peace and justice, and you fight so desperately that you put on the line not only your own life, but also lives of those whom you love. In the end, you lose your life, and death makes you disenchanted.”

Djaq came to Robin and seated herself in the armchair next to his. “Nothing happens without a reason – no fight, no war, no bloodshed, no loss, and so salvation,” she spoke rhetorically, looking at him. “I don’t know God’s will, and I have no idea what mission for each of his children he chose, but I know that everything has a reason and a consequence.”

Robin turned his gaze at her. “And what are the reasons for my fight?”

She gave him a small smile. “Robin, it is not exactly right that you have achieved absolutely nothing in this war,” she said softly. “The reasons for your fight are noble – peace and justice. There can never be absolute peace and justice, but your fight, nevertheless, makes a great difference and gives people hope for the better future and life.”

“You think it makes my fight worthy?”

“Yes, I do think so. Giving hope and making a difference are your achievements.” She paused, letting him have more time to understand her words. “Often hope is the only thing that helps people survive and fight for the greater good,” she added, her voice stressing every word.

There was a pang of sadness at his heart as he recalled deaths of some friends and his own death. “I have already lost too much in this fight. We don’t know our future, and here can be even more losses.”

“There are always losses in any fight, all the more in a fight for something that you want to have but cannot have in real life,” she commented, her expression contemplative. “It was your choice to begin this fight, and it has a good purpose even if you cannot change the whole world. Yet, you can try to have something you want in a different way.”

An eloquent pause followed as Robin was pondering over the situation. "Maybe you are right," he said at last. His voice sounded almost cheerful, and he smiled faintly. "I can have peace in my own lands – in Huntingdon and in Locksley – after the king's return, and my people will prosper then."

There was a mirthful chuckle from Djaq. “So you see that Robin Hood’s cause is not completely futile.”

“It seems so.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, I am,” he replied. “Thank you, Djaq.”

She smiled widely. “Welcome, Robin.”

Robin stood up and came to the window. “Where are they? They should have already returned!”

Djaq emitted a heavy sigh. “Robin, you have been full of anxiety and alarm since we learned about the king’s disappearance. But it cannot continue this way.”

“I am fine,” he said, not looking at her. His eyes took in the dark sky that foretold a new storm.

“Robin,” she called softly.

He turned to face her, his expression blank but his eyes dark with anxiety. “What?”

“How will you save the king if you cannot control your own life?”

For a fleeting instant, Djaq could see a glimpse of vulnerability on her friend’s face, but then Robin collected himself and his expression recovered neutrality. “Perhaps I am being selfish now, but I tell you frankly: it seems that only Robert, Carter, and I are worried about the king. I know that all of you will fight by my side, but I am not sure that each of us is ready to risk their lives to get Richard out of trouble. The king needs us now more than he ever needed us before!” He sighed and paused for a while. “The only thing I want is to have the king at home and live in peace with my family.”

“I am aware what you want, and we all want peace.” She trailed off, frowning thoughtfully. “But you have to understand that not everyone wants to die for the absentee king who cares more about foreign wars than about his people,” she added, anticipating to see Robin angry.

But Djaq was mistaken: Robin didn’t throw an angry barb at her, and his response was a plaintive smile on his face. The illusion that the king was God incarnate on earth was gone, and Robin could see Richard in true colors, but he was tied to the man by blood and it meant everything to him. “I know that Richard is not an ideal king, but the alternative – Prince John – is even worse,” he said quietly. “Maybe the king is not worthy of your, Will’s, Archer’s, or Tuck’s loyalty, but I personally will do everything to find and save him even if I have to give my life for him again.”

“Robin, you have a personal reason to be so loyal to the king.”

“Yes, I do have it.”

“But to save the king, you have to think of yourself because even though your wound has almost healed, your health is still very fragile and can worsen in English cold climate. Your conflicting emotions and your inability to take a hold of them will only aggravate the situation: the more nervous and anxious you will be, the worse you will feel and the sooner you will find yourself again bedridden.”

“You are right,” he acknowledged, albeit reluctantly. Indeed, he was not in the best shape: if he made a sharp movement, he still felt nagging pain deep inside in his stomach, and his heinous scar, which he hated with all his heart as a reminder of his death, often throbbed in pain.

“You have to take your emotions over control,” Djaq said meaningfully, her voice soft and persuasive. “If you don’t do that, you will be unable to lead and fight.”

“I will try,” he promised, but there was no confidence in his voice.

They heard voices in the corridor, and then the door opened as Robin’s friends entered, returning from the harbor. Robin and Djaq rose to their feet automatically, and Robin rushed to Robert de Beaumont. But there was no good news: the wind slackened somewhat, but the fog still shrouded the shore, so it was impossible to sail. They had to wait, and the tension of waiting was becoming unbearable.

§§§

Sir Guy Fitzcorbet of Gisborne and Lady Megan Bennet of Attenborough spent an indefinite amount of time imprisoned in the underground dungeons under the Castle of Nottingham – the underground hell as Vaisey had called the prison and the tunnel system which he had created to have the secret route for possible escape and the place to hide his treasures from Robin Hood and his gang. Time was passing in a monotonous routine, and only Megan and Guy’s rare conversations distracted them from the harrowing reality of impending death.

Guy knew that he had deserved his misery. But Megan had become a prisoner because she had learned Prince John’s secret about King Richard’s capture in Austria, and she had to survive to pass this information to the king’s loyal men. She was young and innocent, loyal to King Richard, Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, and England, and she deserved to have a long, happy life instead of dying in the dungeons or on the gallows. But it seemed that there was nothing Guy could do to save her.

Three weeks ago, Guy had been again put to the rack: the Baron of Rotherham had flogged him brutally, but it hadn't been as bad as the first flogging immediately after his capture. The guards had taken the beaten and unconscious Guy to his cell from the torture room, and Isabella had asked Doctor Blight to come and tend to his wounds. As Guy had been more dead than alive, he had needed constant care, and Megan had been allowed to live in Guy's cell. Guy had been feverish and unconscious for two weeks while Megan had been doing everything to ease his sufferings and save his life.

When Guy had regained his consciousness, he had been as weak as a newborn child not destined to live long in the world, and Megan had always been by his side. Isabella had been so shocked to see Guy utterly broken that she had allowed Megan to be near Guy without protesting and expressing her displeasure. Guy had been in sheer hell, feverish and possibly dying, and Megan had become his only saving grace in the darkness, his angel of salvation.

After his fever had broken, Megan had been no longer permitted to spend time in Guy’s cell. Guy’s recovery had been a long one, but he had never complained of having constant pain in his back. Now Guy felt much better than weeks ago as some of his physical strength had already returned and he had begun to recuperate, though he was still weak. But as soon as he could stand and walk, he swore that he would make an attempt to break out of the dungeons together with Meg.

Guy lifted himself into a sitting position on his straw mattress, and then rose to his feet. He walked towards the grating that separated his cell from Megan’s. “Meg, are you awake?”

“Guy, if I didn’t talk to you in the past hour, it doesn’t mean that I am sleeping,” Megan answered in a steady, loud voice. “Do you already miss my company, my dark knight?”

“It is not a time for jokes, Meg,” he grumbled, irritated.

Megan laughed at him. “You can brood in silence, listen to the sound of water dropping from the ceiling, or enjoy my witty humor,” she said teasingly. “What is better, Guy?”

He smirked. “Your constant talk entertains me.”

She laughed merrily, and then climbed to her feet; she walked towards the grating where Guy stood, looking at her. She stared at him, her eyes large and expressive. She thought that Guy looked even paler than she had ever seen him before in the bleak rays of the cold sun that penetrated the dungeons through the only window at the level of the ceiling, also the surface level.

Guy stared back at Megan, almost breathless, thinking of how beautiful, honest, and yet enigmatic her face was. Megan was like the sunlight in the darkness that surrounded them from all sides, and the world of misery suddenly seemed to be full of the most spirit-stirring, intoxicating tunes. She was such a natural beauty in the way that one could feel there was no manipulation of light or pose which could wipe the delicate shade of honesty and innocence from her features.

Megan chuckled. “My talk is not senseless, Guy,” she said. “I would have never involved an intelligent man like you into idle talk. That’s why I am always telling you about the court of love, the politics in the Angevin Empire, and the latest fashions at various royal courts.” She paused, as if remembering something. “Ah, it slipped from my mind! I also spend much time talking to you about your sins, about what is good and what is bad.” She winked at him. “So I am even trying to annoy you with any kind of nonsense.”

For a brief moment, Guy forgot about everything else, and his mood really improved. “You are a good companion, and you know that. But you want my praise, right?”

She shrugged elegantly. “I don’t think that I deserve your praise, even if I am willing to learn more about your crimes and your desire for redemption.” She playfully pointed a finger at him. “And my talk is not like a talk of babblers and gossipers which is usually incomprehensible because they talk too much and too quickly.”

Guy broke into laughter. “Is it Queen Eleanor’s school of wit?”

“You either have wit, or you don’t.”

Suddenly, his expression turned serious. “Meg, you must be prepared.”

“Why?”

“Soon the guards will come to the cell, and I will have to do something to get us out.”

“Guy, are you really able to fight with them?” she asked with concern.

“I am not as physically strong as I used to be, but I have to do something to save us.”

Megan nodded in understanding. “What should I do?”

“I will overpower the guards. I will tell you what to do once I am done with them,” he replied hastily.

“Be careful,” she requested. Then she returned to her straw mattress.

Guy and Megan lapsed into silence. Tapping lightly on the wall, Gisborne waited, his ears strained to hear the footsteps in the corridor. Guy’s heart pounded as he heard two guards approach him, praying that his simple plan would work.

He positioned himself sideways on the floor, disgusted with the feeling of rotten straw beneath his body. He was pretending that he had fallen senseless from exhaustion, sleep, fear, or illness, hoping that he would outsmart the guards. He only needed to appear unable to respond, talk, or stand. Guy held his breath as the heavy iron door opened, and a beam of light from the torches shone into his barely closed eyes. Two guards strode forward, looking at Guy with curious eyes.

“Gisborne has passed out again, and today he hasn’t even been again tortured yet,” the first guard complained, and there was a nasty laugh in his voice. He leaned over to grab one of Guy’s arms. “Come and help me to take him from here,” he told the other man.

The second man grumbled and complied. The guards broke into a taunting laughter as they grabbed Guy’s shoulders. Guy forced himself to remain motionless in their grasp as they pulled him up and started dragging him to a straw mattress.

“This bastard Gisborne is heavy,” the second man lamented.

The first guard smirked. “He used to be our master once, but now he is nothing.”

The second man sneered. “He deserves to die in his cell and be eaten by worms.”

They were once Guy’s own men! Guy wanted to scream that they were traitors and ungrateful brats after serving him for several years and finally turning their backs on him. He felt betrayed and was seething in anger, but he forced himself to stay quiet, swallowing his humiliation. He knew that there would be little time for him to attack the guards, resist their counterattack, win, and then run away before their escape could be prevented. He had to succeed for Meg and for himself.

One of the guards grunted, pausing to catch his breath. Then the two men lifted Guy and threw him on the mattress, and it was time for Guy to act. Feeling a soundless burst of energy, Guy shot to his feet, taking the two guards so by surprise that one of them fell back, hitting his head against the wall and giving a howl of pain. The man was ambushed and lost his consciousness.

As the second guard was about to call for help, Guy turned to face him and grabbed him by his throat, squeezing it tightly. The man’s eyes bulged in fear, but Guy had no intention of killing him, even though the wretched traitor deserved death. Guy slammed his fist into the guard’s temple, and the man slumped over like a dead man, though he was merely senseless.

Guy looked down at the two guards and spat at them, cursing the day when he had taken them into Vaisey’s service. Then he crunched and found the keys. He unlocked his shackles and threw them away. Rubbing his wrists once he was free of the ties, he breathed a sigh of relief; then he found the keys from Megan’s cell, feeling his heart beating faster in euphoria.

“Meg,” Guy called. “It is done.”

“Did you find the keys?” Megan asked in a hoarse voice as she jumped to her feet.

“Yes, I did.” Guy looked at the door to his cell. It was still open – it was his chance to get freedom back and he intended to use it. “Can you fight?”

Her heart pounded harder in delight at the thought that they would probably be free soon. “My father trained me to fight with many weapons. He wanted me to be able to take care of myself when he was not with me.”

Guy chuckled. “Yeah, a lady from the court of love can fight!”

Megan huffed in annoyance. “Should I be doing my embroidery instead of fighting, Guy?”

“Cool off your head and be ready.”

Guy ran towards the exit. As he moved, the pain from still-throbbing injuries on his back shot through him, and he steeled himself against all sensations. He looked into the corridor, peering into the semi-darkness and preparing to leave. But God was not on Guy’s side on that day: Blamire appeared on the opposite side of the corridor, assessing the situation, his dark eyes focused on Guy.

The dark-skinned man reacted immediately and rushed to Guy. He slammed his fist into Guy’s jaw, simultaneously giving a cry of alarm. “Guards! Guards!” he shouted. “The prisoner is escaping!”

“Damn you to hell, Blamire,” Guy said between clenched teeth.

“Oh my Lord,” Megan whispered to herself. She took a step back and stopped near the stone wall, feeling her heart beating wildly in her thorax. They failed to find the way out of the dungeons, and now Guy was going to pay for their endeavors.

Blamire punched Guy in the face again and hit him in the stomach. Blamire’s blows were so hard that Guy suddenly felt dazed and his vision became blurred. Guy tried to fight with the other man, but exhaustion caught up with him; moreover, in a physical fight, he was no match to Blamire in his weakened state. Soon Guy found himself shackled again, and then Blamire hustled him forward, pushing him towards a straw mattress.

Guy fell on his back and spewed a sequence of violent curses as the heavy door was shut and Blamire disappeared in the corridor. Defeated and deprived of a chance to flee, Guy had to fight hard against the urge to vomit. In misery more abject than any he had ever imagined, he felt panic sweep through him as he heard Blamire’s screams and then Isabella’s metallic voice.

The door flung open and Blamire appeared at the doorway. Already several torches and lanterns had been lit, and the stone wall glowed like a brazier. Then Isabella of Gisborne came forward, holding a torch in her hand and surveying the picture before her eyes.

Isabella eyed Guy; then her gaze stopped at the two unconscious guards. “Blamire, what is going on?”

“Lady Isabella, Gisborne tried to escape. I caught and detained him,” Blamire explained.

Isabella turned her gaze at Guy. “How could it happen?”

“Gisborne knocked out the guards. It seems that he had the plan to escape,” Blamire said.

“Guy, do you imagine that you are Robin Hood?” Isabella questioned scornfully, smiling wryly.

“I am not Robin Hood,” Guy answered coldly, not looking at Isabella. His eyes were tightly shut.

She laughed contemptuously. “And you will never be like Hood who could escape from any trap Vaisey set for him.” She strode forward and took a seat on the only chair in the cell, next to her brother’s mattress. “Lord Vaisey was right that you are an incompetent and blithering idiot.”

Isabella ordered to remove the bodies of two guards from the cell. Several guards came and dragged the unconscious men to the door, casting curious glances at Guy and Isabella. The guards who worked at the castle were surprised to discover the hostile nature of Guy’s relationship with his own sister. They didn’t understand why Isabella hated her brother so much that she didn’t even care about the brutal torture inflicted on Guy twice by Blamire and the Baron of Rotherham.

“Guy, I am giving you a final warning,” Isabella spoke seriously. “If you again try to escape, I will order to use a new torture device on you.” Then she turned around and motioned Blamire to leave.

A long, oppressive silence hung over the dungeons. Neither Megan nor Guy talked for a long time.

When that silence finally became too excruciating, Megan spoke. “I guess we can make another attempt.”

Guy pulled himself into a sitting position. “I told you before that there is no way out of here, Meg,” he said, speaking with great precision and considerable bitterness. “But I should have known in advance that we would be unable to escape at least because Blamire seems to be always around.”

“At least we tried,” she said with a sigh.

“But we failed.” Guy tossed his head contemptuously at the surrounding misery. He was happy that Megan couldn’t see his eyes that were embracing, condemning, loathing all the universe and himself most of all at that moment. “I am sorry that I failed to save you.”

Megan felt her heart skip a beat. Guy’s voice sounded so miserable and was so full of regret that his apology almost took her breath away for a moment. “It is not your fault, Guy.”

Guy laughed. “I did too many bad things in my life, and there were many moments when I wanted to die to be free.” He sighed tiredly. “I wanted to die so much in these dungeons before you appeared here.” He laughed again, this time mournfully. “It is funny that now I want to live to save you, but I can do nothing. Now I can only mourn for my soul.”

 “Are you mourning the loss of many chances to become a better man?”

“Yes, I am. You are shrewd, Meg.”

“Then you are a fool, Guy,” Megan said coolly, without a trace of sympathy. “It is impossible that everything is lost – something always remains.”

“And what do I have now?” He laughed bitterly. “Only misery!”

“Resignation and acceptance,” she replied. ”You accepted your faults and realized your mistakes. If you did try to change yourself but had not enough time to succeed, then your life is not misspent.”

“You think so?” he asked, astonished.

“Yes,” Megan assured him. “Now you can die in peace because you have changed and because you have kept your honor,” she supplied with conviction. “Once Queen Eleanor said that grief is not very different from illness: in the impetus of its fire it doesn’t recognize lords, it doesn’t fear colleagues, it doesn’t respect or spare anyone, not even itself.” She raised her voice. “Guy, do you see how much being aggrieved is similar to wallowing in self-pity?”

"Yes, I do see that,” Guy said.

“Then brace yourself and stop pitying yourself.”

Guy shut eyes and took a deep breath. “At least I can die in peace.”

Megan and Guy didn’t talk anymore during that evening, each of them brooding over life and death, choices they had made and what they had lost in the process. It seemed that nothing could save them.

Chapter 1

Grand Drama in Nottingham

Robin of Locksley and his friends were waiting for a break in the foul weather during several long and mentally agonizing days. They hoped that the weather would improve so that they could sail from Calais to Dover and land in England in a few days. Every morning, Robin, Robert, and Carter came to the harbor and spent some time there, staring at the piers and the sea ravaged by heavy rains and violent winds. For days, the sky was the color of an intense thunderstorm, threatening and ominous. Time was passing, but the weather wasn’t changing, and every traveler was plunging into despair.

However, Robin, Robert, and Carter reached the limit of patience, for they had to thwart Prince John’s plans to usurp the throne of England when King Richard was most likely alive. The others knew that they urgently had to travel to England, and so they agreed that they couldn’t delay their departure anymore. The next morning, they boarded a small vessel and sailed from the harbor of Calais despite the sea looking as menacing as ever and hidden in a silvery fog.

Everyone found their shelter in their cabins, for wave after wave broke over the ship's decks. In an hour, a vast veil of dense fog was enveloping the ship, and it seemed that they were surrounded by clouds from all sides. The gray, cloudy sky showed that even if this storm subsided, another storm would come soon. The passengers were praying to God and especially to Saint Nicholas, the protector of sailors and travelers, as the journey to Dover continued.

It wasn’t raining in the late afternoon, but the sea wasn’t calm at all. Standing on the deck of the ship, Robin watched the distant shores of Flanders which were wrapped in the fog, while Archer conversed quietly with Carter and Robert, sharing with them stories about his incredible adventures which he had had during the years of his itinerant life in the East. Will and Djaq found solitude in their small cabin, their tight and warm embrace protecting them from the cold and the storm. Tuck was praying devotedly for having a safe sea voyage; he decided to keep a distance from the others, knowing that they wouldn’t be happy to see him near Robin Hood.

Robin had some time to ponder over the bizarre twists and turns in his life. Last time when he had been crossing the English Channel, he had dreamt of meeting Marian again after years of separation, even though he had been sure that she had married another man. After his return, he had found out that Marian had still been a maid, but then she had grown tired of waiting for the king’s return and had married Guy – that was the only plausible explanation of her decision to marry his former enemy.

Paradoxically, Robin was traveling across the Channel again, and this time Marian was again an unmarried woman, who, however, was betrothed to the Earl of Buckingham and was held hostage at Prince John’s court. But now everything was different: Robin was a married man, he had a son, and he loved his wife. Directed by the hand of God or influenced by a happy conjunction of planets, Robin had married Melisende Plantagenet, and he was happy in his marriage; he also loved his wife.

Melisende’s violet eyes, glowing with love and desire, as beautiful as iridescent silver when she looked at him, haunted Robin in his sleep. And Marian’s eyes of a rich blue color, like sapphires and like a blue sky, haunted him as well. He had no idea whom of these two great women he loved more.

“Not very busy, my intrepid hero?” an amicable voice came from behind Robin.

Robin turned around to face his friend. “No, no.”

Robert de Beaumont appeared on the deck and walked to Robin; he stopped a step from the other man. "How are you doing today? What are you thinking of? What is bothering you?”

Robin smiled faintly. A blaze erupted in his eyes, and, with a tender expression on his face, he confessed, “I was thinking of my son Richard. I didn’t want to leave him in Bordeaux so quickly.” That was not true, but it was better for Robert to think so, he mused.

“Richard,” Robert said gently. “It is a good name for a child.”

Robin’s expression changed into dreaminess. “I am glad that I married Melisende.”

Robert raised his brow, grinning widely. “So I was right that my little bird has finally surrendered to the entrancing charms of the most beautiful flame-haired lionet in the world.”

Robin laughed, his eyes sparkling. “Yes.”

“Very good.”

“Melisende will arrive in London a week before Prince John’s coronation,” Robin informed.

“And soon you will see Marian,” Robert remarked with undisguised uneasiness.

“I know.” Robin glanced away, at the foggy expanse of the sea.

“I hope it won’t destroy your life, my friend.”

Robin flitted his gaze to Robert, his expression suddenly perturbed. “Robert, I am still confused,” he whispered in a desolate voice. “I love Melisende, but I cannot forget Marian. I dream of my wife, and I miss her when she is not with me, but I remember Marian. I feel terribly guilty of being torn between them.”

“Your love story with Marian is heartbreaking.” Robert’s voice was tight with accusation. “She rejected your love twice. Do you still want to be with her?” He sounded somewhat amazed. “She caused you so much pain. She doesn’t deserve you.”

“No, I don’t want to be with Marian,” Robin asserted.

Robert sighed with relief. “Thanks be to God that Marian’s spell over you has finally fallen apart.”

Robin sighed, his usually pale cheeks flushing with color, which happened so rarely in the past months. “I don’t blame Marian for her decision to leave me and marry Gisborne. I understand her motives, and I really forgave her.” His heart thudded painfully, and he held his breath for a long moment. “But she trampled my heart, and there would be no third time for us.”

A frown of displeasure and worry creased Robert’s forehead. “Robin, Melisende loves you. She fell in love with you before your wedding, when she met you in the moonlit garden in Limassol.” His gaze flew to Robin’s face. “Don’t throw away your chance to be happy.”

All at once, Robin was awash in memories of being with Melisende and holding her in his arms. There was no doubt in his heart regarding his feelings for his wife. “I love Melisende,” he spelled out, his voice husky. “God, help me, but I love her so much.” His heart leaped at his own words, his eyes stinging with the sweetness of his admission, but there was much regret in his heart as well. “But I cannot say that I don’t love Marian, for part of my heart will belong to her forever.” Then he smiled brightly. “I wanted a fresh start, and Richard gave me a chance to have it; now I am content.”

Robert gave a wry smile. “I am happy for you, Robin.”

“When are you marrying, Robert?”

“Immediately after King Richard’s return,” Robert responded.

“Do you want to marry?” Robin gave his friend a questioning look.

“I am marrying out of duty to King Richard,” Robert responded honestly. “And my future wife is a young, beautiful lady, descending from a rich Norman family. What else should I wish?”

“You don’t love her,” Robin noted.

“You didn’t love Melisende either when you married her.”

Robin grinned. “But, I fell in love with her.”

“Maybe I will be able to forget the only woman I have ever truly loved.” Robert’s voice was rough with emotion. “This marriage might help me move on. The old demons are too strong to fight them off alone, and I am going to try to forget the sufferings she caused me.”

“I am glad that you are being so optimistic, Robert.”

They stared at each other in silence. Their minds floated to King Richard.

“The king was kidnapped,” Robert broke the silence.

“And there are only two men who could have done that,” Robin assumed in a grave voice.

“King Richard might have been captured by Duke Leopold V of Austria or by Henry VI, the Holy Roman Emperor,” Robert voiced his thoughts, running his eyes across his companions.

“But I think it is Duke Leopold’s fault.”

“Our intemperate sovereign was utterly wrong when he tore Leopold’s flag and trampled it with his feet. And he did something worse when he hired the Hashashin to assassinate Conrad de Montferrat.”

Robin felt a cold shiver running down his spine; he had always suspected that, but he had never received a verbal confirmation of the fact before. “Was it again André de Chauvigny who did the dirty work?”

Robert swallowed the bitter lump in his throat. “Richard asked André to arrange de Montferrat’s death. One of André’s knights contacted and hired the Hashashin. Then André disposed of that knight – he himself killed the man and buried him in the desert in an unmarked grave.” His gaze pierced Robin, his expression turned pained. “Thus, it was impossible to prove that Richard had been secretly entangled with the Hashashin, but several people, including Carter and me, know the truth.”

An ironic smile was hovering over Robin‘s lips. “Although I was in England at the time of the murder, I figured out the truth immediately upon the receipt of the news from Roger of Stoke.”

“Well, we also did some dirty work for Richard, but not as much as de Chauvigny.”

Duke Leopold of Austria hated Richard with ferocious hatred and suspected that Richard had arranged the murder of his cousin, Conrad de Montferrat. Although Robin had already returned to England by that time, he had easily understood the king’s involvement in de Montferrat’s murder, for he was well aware of how Richard had secretly assassinated some of Saladin’s leading generals – in the most conniving fashion. Robin himself had killed two of Saladin’s key generals at Richard’s behest.

In April 1192, the kingship of Jerusalem had been put to the vote, and the nobles of the kingdom of Jerusalem had unanimously elected Conrad de Montferrat to be their king. Then King Richard had sold Guy de Lusignan the lordship of Cyprus to compensate him for the loss of Jerusalem’s crown and deter him from returning to Poitou; de Lusignan’s family had long earned a disturbing reputation for their persistent rebelliousness, and the king didn’t need Guy back in the Angevin Empire. But Conrad had never been crowned the King of Jerusalem.

On his way home in the fortress of Tyre, Conrad de Montferrat had been attacked by two Hashshashin: they had stabbed him several times in his side and his back, and those wounds had been mortal. At that time, Lady Isabella of Jerusalem, the second wife of Conrad de Montferrat, had been pregnant with Conrad’s child; later she had married Count Henry de Champagne while still carrying her deceased husband’s baby. Conrad’s guards had killed one of their master’s attackers and had caught the other, who had been tortured and had claimed that King Richard was the mastermind of the plot.

“We did our duty to the king by liquidating those Saladin’s generals.” Robin shut his eyes, as if it could help him escape the toxic memories that blazed in his mind, stubbornly refusing to remain in the past. “Yet, it was not the right thing to do. I hated myself for murdering those two men in cold blood.”

Robert gazed away. “I agree with you: it was not the right thing to do, and I was ashamed of myself as well. But Richard protected us from many horrors, and I am grateful to him for that.” He sighed. “We were never involved in as many bloody secret missions as André was.”

“I cannot deny that.”

“Richard did many things incorrectly; you know what I mean.”

Robin’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent; Robert heard his deep sign before he went on. “Despite being sick with a recurrent fever, King Richard rose from his sickbed and fought valiantly to capture Acre in the last days of the siege. But when the city was in our hands, he began to behave downright foolishly; he was too intemperate and arrogant.” He paused for an instant, sighing frustratingly. “Richard argued with Philippe of France and Leopold of Austria. I can understand why Philippe became his adversary – Richard married Berengaria of Navarre instead of Alix of France; yet, I continuously fail to comprehend why our liege was so intemperate while dealing with Leopold.”

Robin and Robert exchanged troubled glances. They rarely criticized their liege, and if they did, they were frank only with each other.

Robert spew a colorful stream of curses out like a fountain; then he calmed down and spoke. “By seizing the treasures of Acre, Richard laid the ground for the break-up of his alliance with Philippe and Leopold. He also refused to share the conquered lands in the Crusader kingdom with anyone, as if he alone were responsible for the eventual surrender of Acre.” He let out a sigh of regret. “The French also helped capture Acre. Hugh of Burgundy was a competent military commander.”

“The biggest mistake was to offend Duke Leopold of Austria, the last surviving vassal of Emperor Barbarossa in the Holy Land. This act alienated many nobles of Outremer.”

“And look at what happened to our king,” Robert surmised with a grievous sigh.

Robin shook his head, focusing his attention on the surface of the water which he could barely see through the fog. “If the king was captured by Leopold, I am sure that he will hand Richard to the emperor. Then they will demand a huge ransom for him.” He sighed. “England will bleed to death when taxes will be increased again. The people will pay much, much more to raise our liege’s ransom than they have already paid to Prince John during the king’s absence.”

Robert nodded, looking pensive. “Perhaps, Prince John raised funds to pay for King Richard’s capture,” he speculated. “I often think of Amicia’s alarming messages about the huge taxes the prince collected.”

“You are right, I think.”

Robin couldn’t suppress the tremble that went through him; the fresh air was chilly, and the wind blew cold. He wrapped his cloak around himself more tightly to keep warmth. The mist was so thick and heavy that he could barely see Robert’s face.

In spite of the bad visibility, Robert guessed that his best friend was freezing. “We should go, Robin. It is very cold, and you are shivering like a small, hunted prey. You cannot catch a cold!”

Robin smiled cordially. “Don’t worry, Robert. I won’t die from the cold. England still needs me.”

“Our country needs me, too,” Robert retorted; he sounded somewhat offended.

“England needs us,” Robin amended, wrapping his arm around Robert’s back. “Let’s go to our cabin.”

It took the travelers about a few days to get to Dover. After they had disembarked, they headed directly to London to meet with Lady Amicia de Beaumont, Robert’s elder sister. Amicia informed them that Prince John had already signed Guy of Gisborne’s death warrant; she also shared with them the disturbing news of Lady Megan Bennet’s disappearance. Alarmed and possessed by deep apprehension, Robin and his companions departed to Nottingham on the same day, intending to stop Guy’s execution.

It was a rimy, damp morning in Nottingham when Robin and the others appeared in the Trip Inn and asked for a place at the most distant table that was hidden from the sight of other visitors. They arrived in the town only two hours before Guy’s execution and were able to devise only a hasty plan; they had no time to go to Sherwood and check whether Allan, Much, and John were there.

Tuck immediately left to Locksley at Robin’s request, whereas Robert went to the central square to gather intelligence about Guy’s execution. Each of them was hooded and behaved very unremarkably, trying to attract to them as little attention as possible. They even moved extremely cautiously, as if any wrong movement could open the ground and dredge them asunder.

Those, who remained in the tavern, ordered several cups of ale. Only Robin refused categorically, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to swallow even a small amount of low-quality English wine; he missed exclusive wines from the king’s collection.

“It is very cold,” Archer complained. “I begin to miss the Holy Land!”

“Archer, don’t whine,” Carter scolded.

Looking at his younger half-brother, Robin nodded and said, “It is really cold.”

The unusual-for-the-season cold aggravated Robin’s still fragile health; the scar on his abdomen was throbbing in pain, but he simply ignored all the uncomfortable sensations. Spring was slow in unfolding in Nottingham: during the past few weeks, there was steadily cold weather, with drizzling rains drenching everyone to the bone throughout the daytime. Yet, at times the sun shone brightly, but some nights were frosty when a cold wind sprang up and a drizzle began to fall again.

“Are you alright, Robin?” Djaq asked in a voice suffused with deep concern.

Robin gave a nod. “Yes.” He let out a sigh. “I am thinking only of our plan.”

Carter chuckled. “Not half a plan anymore?”

“Just for the heck of it, I will tell you that this plan is much better than all of my old half plans,” Robin quibbled, grinning under the folds of his hood.

“We are going to rescue Gisborne,” Will grumbled, displeased with the upcoming mission.

“And what?” Archer raised a quizzical brow.

Will frowned. “This man caused so much harm to us, and now we are going to save him.”

Robin wasn’t going to force anyone to participate in Guy’s salvation. “Will, you may leave.”

Carter was drinking his ale slowly. “Nobody goes anywhere – we are going to work together.”

“I won’t leave Robin and you,” Will pledged.

“I already know about the Saracen attack in the Holy Land,” Archer joined the conversation as he raised a cup of ale to his lips. “Was Robin ever wounded by Guy during his adventures in Sherwood?”

“Oh, that case with Gisborne!” Will hurriedly glanced away. “Better not to remember it.”

Robin tried to explain. “Djaq treated my wounds after I had been Gisborne’s… guest in the dungeons.” He sighed heavily. “Once Guy and his men captured me in the woods and took me to Nottingham. After I had been thrown in the dungeons, Guy wasn’t too gentle with me there.”

Draping his arm around Robin’s shoulders, Archer looked at Robin. "What did Guy do to you, Robin?”

A frown marred Robin’s forehead. “I was locked in the dungeons for several days. At that time, Guy and I were enemies, and he hated me wholeheartedly.” He paused for a moment, seeming to hesitate to speak at first; then he took a deep breath and went on. “Guy flogged me brutally and mercilessly. When the torture was over, I felt as if dogs had torn the skin of my back to shreds.”

“Guy is my brother, but I can say that the more I learn about him, the less I like him,” Archer said in a low voice, his face pale and his body trembling with wrath. “He seems to be a cruel man.”

Will emptied his cup of ale. “You are correct, Archer. Gisborne is a demon. He is–”

Robin cut Will off. “Will, you don’t know Guy of Gisborne well.” His voice faltered, and he fell silent for a brief moment. “I know that Guy seems a thorough-paced villain to all of you, and I think that it is difficult to imagine him a different man. Yet, there were days when he was a well-behaved and honest lad. He loved his mother, Lady Ghislaine, very much and took a good care of her during his father’s absence.” He heaved a deep sigh. “But after the day of the fire, our world turned to ash. Guy had to step on the wrong path in order to survive, and I do really pity him.”

“Maybe I don’t know something, but I don’t like Gisborne. I don’t believe that he can change – he will never become one of us,” Will voiced his judgment.

Robin pursed his lips slightly, but then he gave a nod – a sign of understanding. “I don’t like Gisborne either. And I don’t think that he will ever fight alongside us for freedom of England and the people.”

Archer gazed steadily into Robin’s eyes. Despite his brother’s words, he couldn’t find hatred in Robin’s orbs: instead, he was stunned to discover humanity there. “Robin, you don’t hate Guy, right?”

“I don’t hate Guy of Gisborne anymore,” Robin avouched. “I pity him. I really do.” He became somber and contemplative. “There is too much bad blood between Guy and me, and we will never become friends.” His chest heaved with pain as his mind drifted back to the moment when he had been dying in Imuiz. “But I think that Gisborne deserves a chance to lead a normal life.”

Robin turned his head and caught Djaq’s sympathetic glance. The Saracen woman didn’t interpose in their conversation, but she was obviously listening to their chat attentively. Djaq nodded approvingly at Robin, pleased that her friend had expelled hatred for Gisborne from his heart, although it was now occupied with his powerful hatred for Vaisey, a feeling which was blacker and stronger than ever.

Archer smiled. “Well, you gave Guy such a chance when you asked the king to pardon him.”

Robin maintained an impassive expression, although inside his emotions were churning. He lowered his eyes, his head completely covered with the hood. He didn’t like that they had to take significant risks only to rescue Guy because they originally planned to postpone Robin’s public resurrection. But he couldn’t allow Isabella to execute Guy because saving him was the right thing to do. “Now we will have to take Guy out of the mess he dragged himself into after his failure to dispose of the sheriff.”

Carter raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Do you still think that Vaisey is alive?”

Robin inclined his head in confirmation. “I am convinced that this hellspawn is alive. I feel this.”

They talked very quietly, and nobody was close enough to eavesdrop. The Trip Inn was buzzing with the news that today Guy of Gisborne would die. Everyone seemed to be excited to see Guy dead.

“Robin, you told us the story about your old conflict with Gisborne,” Djaq spoke at last. “Whatever happened on the day of the fire that consumed Gisborne’s parents and your father, your fault was limited by the fact that you let the bailiff chase away Gisborne and his sister.”

Robin turned his eyes to Djaq, his look turning incredulous. “You think so?”

“Yes, I do think so, Robin,” Djaq confirmed, looking Robin straight in the eye. “Gisborne set the fire at the manor, and the bailiff attempted to kill Gisborne’s parents and your father.” She paused for a moment, her eyes never leaving Robin’s face. “Robin, you acted not completely honorably on that day, but you were a child of barely seven years old.” She smirked. “And how old was Gisborne?”

“He was about fifteen,” Robin answered.

“Gisborne was almost a man, not a child, like you, Robin,” Djaq underscored. “And you said that the bailiff wanted the Gisborne lands and your lands as well. He would have killed you in any case.”

In Jerusalem, Robin had told Will and Djaq the story about his childhood and his conflict with Gisborne because he had needed to explain to them Archer’s existence; later he had retold the same story to Carter. Yet, only Djaq knew the truth about Robin’s true parentage because she had heard Robin rave about King Richard and Queen Eleanor in delirium.

“But I had to defend Isabella and him,” Robin persisted stubbornly.

“Robin, whatever you did on that night, Gisborne made his own choices – he chose to side with Vaisey,” Carter declared, endeavoring to conceal his own negative emotions, for he loathed Gisborne.

“Exactly,” Will interjected. “It was his own choice to kill innocent people, not yours.”

Archer and Robin stiffened, for they were aware that Malcolm hadn’t died in the fire.

"Listen, Robin," Archer said in a silken voice as he finished his cup of ale. “It is not the first time when you contemplate your old conflict with Guy. And now, when you aided Guy to receive a royal pardon, I don’t think that you should give way to gnawing feelings of guilt and sorrow.” He chuckled. “After all, you, Robin, are not a man who likes suffering. You are an optimist by nature.”

Robin nodded. “Yeah, I am not a man who whimpers and curses in solitude, resigning to my own misfortunes and hoping that God will reward me in Heaven for my resignation. I never lose a single precious moment – a man who immediately acts and responds to blows of fate without prevarications.”

“Robin and Archer are both men of action,” Djaq opined. “Guy of Gisborne is Archer’s brother, but he is much more passive and weaker than you, Archer and Robin.”

"Straight to the point, Djaq,” Robin said in a voice, in which one could feel laughter.

A Cheshire-cat smile came across Archer’s features. "Well, I agree, too.”

“It seems that Archer is someone between Robin and Gisborne,” Djaq concluded. “But, of course, there is not as much cruelty in Archer as in Gisborne.”

Archer liked listening to the conversations about Robin, Guy, and himself. He didn’t know Guy well and he didn’t loathe him, but he deeply regretted that he had dreamt of killing Robin Hood.

They stopped when they saw Robert de Beaumont enter the inn and walk towards their table. Like each of them, Robert was disguised and hooded, and he was carrying a small bag that contained another disguise which they would use today. A hooded Tuck was walking right behind Robert.

 “Everything is ready. We may go now,” Robert notified.

Robin stood up, looking at his friend. “Were you able to get the disguise?”

Amusement flickered in Robert’s eyes, and then he laughed. “When did I fail to have my way, Robin?”

The hero of the poor and oppressed chuckled. “Almost never, my friend.”

Robert nudged Robin's shoulder with his own. He elaborated, “The tailor was very willing to help and very welcoming when he saw your tag. I had to wait for some time while the man rummaged from room to room, tossing pieces of clothing and fabrics in haste. Then he found what he needed and quickly fit it to my size.”

Robin smiled marginally and began to walk away.  “Then we are indeed ready.”

The others rose to their feet and ambled towards the exit; Carter paid for the ale they had ordered and then hastened to join his friends. Visitors of the tavern didn’t pay attention to the group of hooded strangers as they were too busy discussing Guy’s execution. Nobody knew that Robin Hood had just walked out of the tavern and was about to begin the greatest performance Nottingham had ever seen.

§§§

Lady Isabella of Gisborne, the Sheriff of Nottingham, stood near one of the windows in the study, looking outside, at the central square of Nottingham. She shivered in the bleak rays of early spring sun that filtered through the undraped windows. She could see the scaffold that had been built for her brother, Guy of Gisborne, and Lady Megan Bennet; their execution was scheduled for today.

Yesterday, Isabella had received a strict order from Prince John to execute Guy because Lady Marian of Knighton, the former Lady Gisborne, had tried to escape from the Tower of London, but she had been caught and placed under a heavier guard. Although the prince had initially intended to arrange some kind of eccentric execution for Guy on the day of his coronation in London, he had changed his mind due to the Earl of Buckingham’s demands. The prince owed Buckingham for King Richard’s capture and was willing to do everything to please his favorite, who was besotted by Marian.

Isabella wasn’t as happy with Guy’s execution as she had once thought she would be. After Guy’s last torture performed by the Baron of Rotherham, Guy had barely survived and didn’t recover from his sickness yet. Lade Megan Bennet had taken good care of him, and only thanks to her Guy hadn’t died; today Megan was also supposed to be executed. The prospect of seeing Guy and Megan dead didn’t instill even some gladness into her aching heart – instead, horror clutched it.

“Lady Isabella, we should hurry to watch the show,” the Baron of Rotherham said with inspiration.

Isabella turned around, her steel blue eyes locking with Rotherham’s gray orbs. She began to despise the man after she had witnessed Guy’s inhuman torture several weeks ago. She hoped that Rotherham would leave soon, but he continued staying in the castle, entertaining Isabella in the provincial town, as he called Nottingham sarcastically. The baron had confided in her that he was still in Nottingham due to Megan’s imprisonment, hoping to persuade the woman to marry him. But Isabella suspected that Prince John didn’t trust her completely, and so he needed Rotherham to spy on Isabella.

“Yes, Lord Rotherham, we should go,” Isabella agreed with a fake smile.

Isabella walked to the table, stopped, and grabbed the sealed parchment which she had written last night; it was the verdict of the high court of Nottingham. A twinge of guilt passed through her, for she would have to command to end her brother’s life. But Guy was doomed because Prince John wanted him dead. She struggled with many troubling thoughts since yesterday’s evening when John’s page had arrived from London with the prince’s order to carry out her brother’s execution.

Rotherham sniggered. “What a marvelous execution we will have today!” he drawled, every word dripping with poison and warped delight. “Guy of Gisborne and Megan Bennet became lovebirds while she nursed him back to health after my last beating, which you, my lady, didn’t allow me to finish.”

“I didn’t let you finish because you almost killed Guy. He still is weak to even walk to the scaffold,” Isabella explained, ignoring his scowl. She flung a fine wool cloak around her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

“Megan didn’t want to be my wife, and today she will pay with her life,” Rotherham said, with regret creeping in his voice. “I hoped so much that she would change her mind, but she didn’t.” He made a helpless gesture. “What a feather-brained and stubborn woman! She could have everything, but she refused to marry me!” He smiled somewhat dreamily. “And I have such a wonderful feeling for her!”

Isabella frowned. “Yes, that was foolish of her. I am awfully sorry that she rejected you, my lord!"

Meanwhile, Guy and Megan were waiting for the guards in Megan’s cell in the underground dungeons. With a gloating smile on his face, the Baron of Rotherham had informed them yesterday that Prince John had commanded to execute them as high traitors. Since the fateful announcement, they were quiet and devoted their time to life contemplation. As Guy was still unhealthy, he lay quietly on his straw mattress, weak and vulnerable; Megan still tended to the healing welts and cuts on his back.

In the eyes of death, Guy was afraid that he would go to hell in the afterlife. All was lost in his life, for he was unable to save Marian from Buckingham and Megan from death. He was afraid of dying despite all his assurances that he didn’t care about himself and that it was good to end his empty life, but when he looked at Megan and thought of her courage, an unfamiliar audacious feeling burned inside him, giving him strength to go forward and appear before the bloodthirsty crowds of people who hated him.

Guy was unable to change anything in his life, and he was totally resigned to his death. But at least he wouldn’t face death alone, but later they wouldn’t walk along the same road to the gates of paradise.

“We are really going to die today?” Megan asked in a shaking voice.

Guy sighed deeply. “I am sorry, Meg. We are doomed to die.”

Megan’s deep blue eyes were large and full of fear. “I am scared.”

Guy averted his gaze, and his heart constricted in his chest. “When it comes, it will be very quick.”

“Do you need anything else?” she inquired. “Maybe I can give you some water or food. We still have one loaf of bread.”

Guy lay on the mattress, looking up at her. He flashed a warm smile, pleased to have such a wonderful creature by his side, with the only regret that they would die together. During their imprisonment, they had become as close as only good and old friends could be. Guy had already told her many private things about himself: he had given her a long tale about his childhood in Nottinghamshire, the fire at Gisborne Manor, the banishment from Locksley and Nottingham, and the years of his service to Vaisey.

Guy liked that Megan was always ready to listen to him without mental reservation, without suspicion, without accusing him of doing something wrong. When he talked to her, he felt the freedom that he often lacked in his conversations with Marian, who always compared him with Robin Hood and who wanted him to become himself and yet develop some qualities which she loved in Robin – his heroism and his self-sacrificing and altruistic nature, which he had never possessed. With Megan everything was different: Guy was himself with her, and there was no comparison to anyone else.

“Meg, I need nothing. You have done more than enough. Thank you,” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid of death. It will be not as painful as you think.”

Megan went still, very still. Her heart was no longer bleeding – she had already accepted her upcoming death, and she was content with her fate. She was pleased that she would die together with Guy.

“What would you do if you are granted a chance to live?” Her question was blunt and rather surprised her, for she didn’t know why she had asked it.

“I would have said my thanks to God because only he can save us,” he replied unhesitatingly.

“And Lady Marian?”

“Then I would have done everything to rescue Marian, find my friends, and save the king. But we don’t stand a chance against Isabella and Rotherham.” Most of all Guy wanted to live because he craved redemption. He started his redemption in Acre, but he knew that he could do much more.

In the Holy Land, Guy had freed himself from the darkest demons that had tormented him since the day of the fire. He no longer blamed himself for the tragic death of his parents, and he no longer hated Robin. He had broken from Vaisey and had killed him, and he felt that the atonement for his sins had already begun. Guy’s refusal to kill Richard in Imuiz, his desperate attempt to save Robin only to be stopped by Isabella’s arrow, Robin’s noble request to grant Guy the king’s pardon, the mind-blowing revelations made by King Richard, and Vaisey’s murder by him were the turning points in his life; all those things pushed Guy to accept his own faults and step on the path to redemption.

The sheer darkness, in which Guy had lived in for many years, dissipated, and he found the light. God inflicted on him a great deal of tribulation in his life, and Marian’s love helped him become a free man. Marian pushed him to redemption, but she wasn’t his redemption: she was his savior, as well as Robin who had granted Guy a chance for atonement, but eventually Guy himself had become his own savior, which made him a free man.

Megan shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “I want to do something… unusual.”

Guy awkwardly rose to his feet. He stood next to her, looking at her with interest. “What do you want to do, Meg? Is it something that will astonish me more than I am already feeling in your presence?”

She let out a small laugh. “You will see now.”

She smiled with a slow, striking smile and closed her eyes. And then she began to sing the song which Queen Eleanor loved a lot. She also loved this song and often hummed it under her breath.

De proez'e de joi fui,

Mais ara partem ambedui,

Et ieu irai m'en a Cellui

On tut peccador troban fi.

Guy was staring at Megan, amazed. He understood the Occitan language rather well, although he couldn’t speak it as well as Megan could. What amazed him more was Megan’s ability to stay so calm in the minutes preceding their execution; he admired her ability to control herself.

It wasn’t difficult for Guy to translate the verse. “I held both prowess and joy, but now both have departed, and I shall go to Him in whom all sinners find their end.”

Mout ai estat cuendes e gais,

Mas Nostre Seigner no.l vol mais;

Ar non puesc plus soffrir lo fais

Tant soi aprochatz de la fi.

Guy watched Megan singing, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her expression almost serene despite of the fact that they were going to die. “I have been charming and gay, but our Lord no longer wills it; and I can no longer bear the burden, so near do I approach the end,” he translated for himself.

The young cultured lady was bathing in a sea of artistic melodies and bittersweet words of the song, in which a knight, deprived of joy by pitiless fate, was ready to give up everything in his life and was reconciled to his death. As she was singing, Megan’s features slowly morphed into an unholy mixture of merriment and agony, and Guy’s heart nearly collapsed in his chest at the thought that such a young and beautiful creature was prepared to die and he was powerless to save her.

Tot ai guerpit cant amar sueill:

Cavalaria et orgueill

E pos Dieu platz, tot o acueill,

E El que.m reteigna ab Si.

Guy thought that the song was exactly about him and Megan, although he had never had chivalry, in contrast to the knight from the song. “I have given up all I loved so much: chivalry and pride; and since it pleases God, I accept it all, that he may keep me by Him.”

As she finished the verse, Megan opened her eyes and stared steadily into Guy’s. There was the same resignation in Guy’s unfathomable eyes which she would have seen in hers if she looked at herself in the mirror. Megan felt anguish gripping her heart again as she continued singing about life, death, and sacrifices and about the knight’s sadness stemming from the necessity to leave his beloved and die. The song was so much about Guy and her at that very moment: they were about to depart from the world which they may have made better if they were allowed to live their natural lifespan, and, most importantly, they would never see again everything and everyone they loved.

Totz mos amics prec a la mort,

Qu.il vengan tuit e m'onren fort,

Qu'eu ai agut joi e deport

Loing e pres et e mon aizi.

Aissi guerpisc joi e deport,

E vair e gris e sembeli.

Keeping her eyes closed, she went on singing two more verses, one long and one short. “I enjoin my friends, upon my death, all to come and do me great honor, since I have held joy and delight far and near, and in my abode. Thus I give up joy and delight, and squirrel and grey and sable furs.”

When the last verse was over and Megan stopped singing, her gaze was still locked with Guy’s. They didn’t speak for a long time, their mouths twisted with the colossal effort it was taking them to hold back their bubbling emotions. Megan swore that she wouldn’t weep, but she suddenly found herself unable to control herself: tears shimmered on her lashes and rolled down her cheeks.

Guy sighed heavily. His heart was overwhelmed with grief that Megan was destined to die with him, but he was grateful to God that he wouldn’t be alone in the last moments of his life. He stood silent and somber, gazing into Megan’s eyes, his mind was full of with doleful memories of the past.

Guy said at last, “I think I know this song.”

Megan smiled with a tremulous smile, her eyes brimming with tears. “It is Queen Eleanor’s favorite song. She often sings it, usually in the saddest moments of her life. It is the song written by William IX, Duke of Aquitaine; he was the queen’s grandfather.”

“I guessed that he should be the author.” Guy rubbed his hands over his face. “Duke William was a well-known troubadour. He is a godfather of courtly love.”

“You are right. Duke William wrote this song when he returned from the First Crusade in 1101,” she confirmed, a look of surprise appearing on her face; she didn’t expect that Guy was so knowledgeable about the Aquitanian culture and the art of troubadours. Then her face darkened. “The Count of Poitiers was a fine knight at arms, liberal in life and active in seducing women and philandering, and he was a great composer and singer of songs. But he was excommunicated by the pope.”

“If I am not mistaken, he was excommunicated twice: the first time for an alleged infringement of the Church’s tax privileges and the second time for abducting Viscountess Dangerose, the wife of his vassal Aimery de Rochefoucauld, Viscount de Châtellerault, although she was a willing party.”

Megan cocked her head. “You know the history of Aquitaine very well.”

“Well, I had good teachers, whom my mother hired for me when we still lived in Locksley.”

“Queen Eleanor likes this song because she, too, gave up all she loved so much: chivalry and pride and her normal life when King Henry imprisoned her after the unsuccessful revolt of hers and her sons, and she accepted her fate because it pleased God, as she confided in me once.”

Guy gave a nod. “This song is about the Queen Mother’s life.”

Megan smiled as her mind drifted back to the days of her early youth in Aquitaine. “Sir Robin of Locksley also sang this song many years ago, before the whole court. I was very young, but I attended that feast.” She smiled fondly. “He was mischievous and charming, and he had a great sense of humor! He was full of life, fire, and energy! His cheerful and passionate spirit and generosity were contagious!” She lowered her head. “And today Sir Robin might have saved us if he were alive.”

“But Robin is gone forever,” Guy said sorrowfully. “And soon you, Meg, will meet him in Heaven.” He released a mournful sigh. “Tell Robin that… I avenged his death by murdering Vaisey.”

Tears were shining in her eyes. “You yourself will tell Sir Robin this. You and I will be in Heaven soon.”

A long silence stretched between them, which seemed to be lengthening into a lifetime.

Guy didn’t speak, and Megan found some solace in silence. In that perfect silence, all their sorrows, sufferings, doubts, pains, and everything else fled when an angel of death came to enter their souls. They felt that they couldn’t free themselves from the unwavering grasp of death, but they didn’t wish to – they welcomed death and opened their hearts to God.

Breathless, Guy glanced into Megan’s eyes as he brushed away a strand of hair from her brow. “I have damned myself, and I will burn in hellfire forever. You will go to Heaven without me.”

To his own surprise, she attracted Guy physically, and he swallowed tensely and cursed himself, for he felt that even now, in the prison, he was greatly affected by Megan’s beauty and sincerity, even though he was certain that he would have never fulfilled the painfully mystifying lust he felt for her if they survived. He prohibited himself from feeling anything towards Megan, but he could not bring himself to look away, for she was a dazzling, captivating undertow of desire, and he was under her spell.

Guy saw the seductive lines of Megan’s well-curved body under the folds of her cloak. Megan was one of the most beautiful women whom he had ever met; her beauty could easily rival that Marian’s. Only Melisende Plantagenet was more beautiful, more seductive, and more enigmatic than Megan and Marian, but there was deeply hidden ruthlessness in Robin’s wife, which were the features which Megan didn’t possess, for Megan’s heart was pure and innocent; but Melisende had the Plantagenet blood in her veins, and she was destined to be different from all other noblewomen.

“After what you survived here, you will go to Heaven as well,” she assured him. “Don’t doubt that.”

Guy shook his head. “That’s ridiculous, Megan. You know that I committed heinous crimes, but you sound like Marian who often said to me that there was some good in me and I could be absolved.”

Megan stepped aside from Guy. She didn’t take his last words well – she didn’t want to be compared with Marian or anyone else. She moved farther away from him, and he stared at her with a look of surprise on his face, not understanding why she put so much distance between them.

“Ah, I see,” she breathed.

Guy frowned slightly, feeling emotion blending with a nausea that was already pummeling his gut. “Meg, what did I do wrong? What–?” He broke off when he saw her shake her head sadly at him.

“It is nothing, Guy. Nothing.”

“Did I hurt you?” He took a step towards her.

As their eyes met, Guy tried to look into the depths of her soul, yearning to see something there, an angry fire or a spark of life, but there was only melancholy in her eyes.

“Guy, I want to tell you something,” she whispered, feeling afraid to say the words that threatened to slip from her tongue in the past few days. “No matter what else happens to us, my heart is yours.”

Megan lowered her head, shameful longing for him surging through her. She understood that she loved him when he had been dying. She had never loved another man, never ever in her life, and now she knew what true and deep love was like. She loved Guy for who he was and could ever be. But he didn’t love her back, for she was sure that his heart belonged to the famous Lady Marian. Nevertheless, Guy’s feelings for Marian and for Megan didn’t matter anymore, for they were too close to death.

Her frank words sent an aching stab through Guy. “Meg?” he called.

Megan trembled all over, but the sound of him uttering her name in such a husky and amazement-drenched voice, so uncertain, so filled with concern, shook her from her numbness. She lifted her eyes and glanced into his orbs, full of amazement and astonishment and vulnerability. Looking at him, she let herself unleash a rush of love she felt for him, and through the shadow of sadness, her eyes shone with deep and passionate light. She choked back a sob, brushing away her tears with the back of her palm, but the new flood of fresh tears slid down her cheeks; her tears seemed to flow without end.

Megan smiled ever so slightly, tilting her head to one side. “Guy, it is alright. I know that Lady Marian is the keeper of your heart, and I accept that.”

A long, flustered silence spread over them as Guy tried to grasp the meaning of her confession. It was difficult to believe that such a woman as Megan – independent, willful, spirited, and extremely proud – had just said that to him, but he knew that it wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“It is so complicated, Meg. I… know nothing for certain about my feelings,” Guy responded sincerely. “I loved Marian for so long, and there is a certain part of my heart – a large part of it – which will always love her, but I have been feeling so lost since my return from Acre.” He paused and glanced down for a short moment, biting his bottom lip, before lifting his face and staring at Megan. “You don’t know me well, Meg. So many things happened after Robin’s death; they changed our lives forever and broke Marian, me, and many other people…”

“I don’t know what you mean, but I can say that you have really changed.”

Guy walked over to Megan and stopped near her. He touched her chin with his hand, using his fingertips to tilt her face gently up to him to better see her eyes. “Thank you for everything you have done for me, Meg. You are a wonderful and extraordinary woman!”

Her heart thundered in her chest as she instinctively leaned closer to him. He slid his hands down her back, stopping at the level of her waist. For a moment, just for a moment, they were only Megan and Guy, and nothing else mattered as they stood so close, looking at each other without speaking, letting strange sensations engulf them. And then Megan backed away.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back at her. She was careening between feeling intensely vulnerable and totally flustered, thinking that she shouldn’t have allowed him to touch her, but she justified her relaxed behavior because of their impending death. Guy himself felt guilty for his inability to give her any kind of warmer comfort other than a smile, which she rightfully deserved. But nothing mattered before death – only the fact that they took some friendly comfort in each other’s company.

§§§

The heavy door flung open. Isabella and Blamire walked in the cell. Isabella’s expression was impassive, but her eyes were not as cold as usual. Blamire stood behind her, and there was a large smirk playing in the corners of his mouth.

Isabella crossed the cell and stopped near Guy’s mattress. “It is almost time to go,” she declared.

Guy directed his gaze at Isabella, his eyes pleading. “Isabella, you can still spare Meg’s life,” he said, watching surprise flashing across his sister’s face.

“Oh, my goodness! Guy, you and she have bonded. You are more than jailbirds!” Isabella retorted with a waspish smile. “You know, I pity Megan because she is a fool. She could have already been married to the Baron of Rotherham, but she preferred to stay here and chose her own fate – death.”

“We are just two innocents in the dungeons, Lady Isabella,” Megan intervened; her voice sounded unusually light. “I definitely prefer Guy’s company over Rotherham’s.”

Isabella glared at the other woman. “Guy is far from innocent.”

“He didn’t kill Robin Hood,” Megan raised the issue.

“I know,” the lady sheriff replied matter-of-factly. “As for you, Meg, I can only say that you wouldn’t have been as unhappy with Lord Rotherham as I was with Squire Thornton. Your chances to be happy with Rotherham are much better than mine were with Thornton.”

“It is better to die than to marry a moron,” Megan growled.

Blamire was silent, watching the unfolding scene with the same evil smirk on his lips.

Isabella gave an audible sigh. “At times I think so.”

Guy was going to do something absolutely unexpected. “Was your husband really so cruel to you, Bella?” he asked in a tender tone; he addressed her as he had often done in their childhood.

For an instant, Isabella stood looking at her brother. She was touched by his soft voice and the manner in which he spoke to her. But then her expression regained harshness. “There is nobody worse than my husband, the man whom you sold me for money.”

“You will never forgive me, Bella?” Guy spoke in the same soft voice and used the same endearment.

Isabella steeled herself against any good emotion towards Guy. “It doesn’t matter, Guy.” She released a heavy sigh. “It no longer matters.”

Not giving Guy a chance to say anything else, Isabella advanced forward and walked to the door, her gait straight and proud. She nodded at Blamire that she was ready to go.

Bowing to her, Blamire opened the door, and Isabella swept out of the cell, stepping into the dark corridor. As she was walked down the corridor that led to the ground level, she felt a single tear sliding down her cheek. She lowered her head as she quickened her pace, walking towards the front door that separated the underground prison from the other castle dungeons. Yet, she was affected by her meeting with Guy, but she would never show her weakness to the man who was guilty of her misery.

In a few minutes, Isabella returned to Guy’s cell in the Baron of Rotherham’s company. She entered and stopped in the middle, scrutinizing Guy and Megan in turn. Rotherham paused at the doorway, his face twisted in grim satisfaction; he was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Megan and Guy stiffened at the sight of the two people who had caused them so much pain.

“The day of your death has come, Gisborne,” Rotherham announced after a prolonged silence. “Will you not admit that you are a weakling and a loser?”

“Shut up, you beast!” Megan climbed to her feet and stared at him with the challenge in her eyes.

“What a fiery temper!” Rotherham exclaimed, looking at the lady with desire evident in his eyes.

Guy scrambled to his feet from his mattress. He leveled his stare at the baron, dull and tired of the pain and uncertainty gnawing inside him. “You can do anything you want to me, and you can also say anything, Rotherham.” He lifted his brow at him in a mocking way. “I am long past caring.”

The Baron of Rotherham blanched more than ever. “Very well, Gisborne. You die today and pay for our crimes.” His gaze slid to Megan. “My dear, have you changed your mind? Will you marry me? I still can save your life and plead with Prince John to grant you a royal pardon.”

Megan couldn’t tolerate the baron’s conceited insolence anymore and roared, “Damn you, Rotherham!” She lowered her voice then, feeling too devastated to shout. “Haven’t you understood yet that I loathe and hate you? You are not a man – you are worse than an animal. I won’t marry you!”

Rotherham cursed rudely and then supplied through gritted teeth, “I will take great pleasure in watching you die together with Gisborne, Lady Megan.”

Isabella was silent, her eyes darting between Guy and Megan. She noticed how weak and sick Guy looked: he was not the dashing man whom she had met in Nottingham before their voyage to the Holy Land almost a year ago. Guy was dressed in his old brown cloak and black trousers; apparently, he had lost much weight, and he was also unkempt, for they didn’t have time even to invite a barber to make him look more presentable for his own execution. His appearance was not that of a cool-blooded murderer, and Isabella realized that the people would be shocked to see the defeated Guy.

Gisborne glanced at his sister; he had to try again to persuade Isabella to spare Megan. “Isabella, you want me dead and I accept that. But you can save Meg! She is just an innocent girl!”

Isabella was unrelenting. “It is Prince John’s order. I can do nothing.”

“This treacherous lady has a heart that is colder than a night in the desert,” Megan gave her verdict, throwing at Isabella a scornful look. “She can only sleep with Prince John in exchange for power.”

Isabella froze, startled by Megan’s offensive speech. She began to walk towards the younger woman on impulse, but stopped herself. Anger simmered in her blood, and pity evaporated. “Lady Megan, you could live, but your foolishness precluded you from accepting Lord Rotherham’s gracious proposal. If you think that your remarks have some entertainment value, you are under a delusion.”

Rotherham was savoring the moment of Guy and Meg’s agony. “They both will die in shame today.”

“Guards! Guards! Guards!” Isabella bellowed, repeating the word thrice as if it had magical, coercive powers. “Take Lady Megan and my brother out. Gag them before escorting them to the scaffold.”

Megan looked at Isabella with disdain, understanding why the lady sheriff had ordered to gag them: she feared that Megan would announce King Richard’s capture in Austria. She heard Guy growl behind her, and her heart started beating furiously in her chest; she turned to face him and saw the guards shackle him. Observing Guy struggle with two guards, Megan let go a string of curses and insults directed at Isabella and Rotherham. However, she couldn’t scream anymore as in the next moment another guard approached her and gagged her; then she was shackled.

In half an hour, Isabella of Gisborne and the Baron of Rotherham were already on the front steps of the castle. Isabella lounged in a high-back oversized chair, Vaisey’s former chair; she was at the peak of her fame and power, enjoying that she was known as Prince John’s mistress and occupied the office of Sheriff of Nottingham. His expression haughty and sneering, yet his face frighteningly pale, Rotherham stood at her right. Blamire stood at Isabella’s left, ready to cater to her every whim.

They swept their eyes across the square and gasped for air, for they didn’t expect that so many people would come to the execution despite the rainy and cold weather. For almost everyone, Guy’s execution was a long-awaited and dramatic event. Many well-dressed nobles, idle townspeople, and a lot of ragged peasants came to the central courtyard to watch the execution of Vaisey’s former right-hand man. The people wore menacing and pleased expressions, for everyone hated Guy after Prince John’s sensational announcement that he had killed Robin Hood.

Isabella stood up and raised her hand for silence. Taking a deep breath, she proceeded to her carefully planned speech. “The people of Nottingham, today we have gathered here to oversee the execution of two dangerous criminals – Sir Guy Crispin Fitzcorbet of Gisborne and Lady Megan Christine Bennet of Attenborough,” she proclaimed, sweeping her eyes over the crowd. “Blamire, bring out the prisoners.”

Blamire bowed submissively. “As you command, Lady Isabella.”

The drums beat, and the front doors of the castle opened. The guards pushed forward Guy of Gisborne and Megan who was trailing behind him. However, in contrast to Guy’s expectations, the mob didn’t taunt him and laugh at him as everyone was shocked to realize that the miserable prisoner, who was abnormally thin, ghostly pale, and dressed in rags, was Vaisey’s drop-dead, handsome, and murderous master-at-arms, who had terrorized and oppressed the populace for more than five years.

Guy, Megan, and their enemies couldn’t know that Robin, Carter, Archer, and Tuck were in the crowd, each of them hooded and keeping a distance from prying eyes. A tide of shock and awe spread out through them at the sight of the changes in Guy. Robin gripped the hilt of his Saracen scimitar more tightly and drew it out of the scabbard, but Carter tugged him on his sleeve, signaling to sheathe the weapon. But Robin was almost petrified with shock, and for some time he couldn’t move and speak even when Carter grasped him by the shoulders and began to shake him slightly.

“Robin,” Carter called as he shook his friend again. “Take a hold of yourself. Otherwise, we will fail.”

Robin finally emerged from the trance and blinked. “But we won’t fail, right?”

“No, we won’t,” Archer promised, staring at Guy who stumbled on the way to the scaffold and was pushed forward by the snickering guard.

“It is a pure luck that Amicia managed to learn the date of their execution,” Robin opined quietly. “And we are fortunate to find Lady Megan in Nottingham, for I feared that she might be already dead. We will have to save the two of them.” He swallowed hard. “I am shocked with what they did to Gisborne.”

Archer laughed tragically, which was a low, throaty sound. “Guy looks like a man who was tortured for days and starved almost to death.” He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Isabella is a bitch.”

Robin coughed nervously. “She is worse than a bitch.”

Guy could barely move his legs as the guards led Megan and him to the block; all he wished at that very moment was to be sequestered away from the masses or die on the spot. The people surveyed him with unconcealed interest, stunned to see the man, who had taken last pennies from them and had chopped off their hands, in such a miserable state. Some people mocked him, but the majority of them unexpectedly took pity on the villain, giving him ambiguous, pitiful glances.

Isabella ran her eyes over the crowd, smiling at the people; yet, she wasn’t happy, for she also pitied her brother. “As you all know, Guy of Gisborne is an enemy of the people. He must pay the ultimate penalty for his crimes,” she continued her accusing speech. She unfolded the parchment and began to read a long list of charges against Guy. “Gisborne is guilty of multiple murders, including the murder of Sir Robin Fitzooth of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon and Count de Bordeaux and the murder of Sheriff Peter Vaisey of Nottingham,” she delivered in a monotonous manner.

Suddenly, they heard the angry shouts of the old man, who was hastily trotting through the crowd. Megan gasped as her gaze fell on her father, Lord Hugh Bennet of Attenborough.

Hugh Bennet stopped near the front steps and directed a truculent glare at Isabella. “Lady Isabella of Gisborne, what did my daughter do to you? Why are you executing her?”

A lethal hush fell over the crowd. All eyes were attached to Isabella.   

Guy swung his gaze to Megan, feeling the first inklings of hope. But in a moment, that hope was smashed to pieces as Isabella smiled venomously.

Isabella gave Hugh a condescending glare. “Lord Hugh, your daughter was declared a high traitor by Prince John. She must pay for her treacherous actions. She tried to help Gisborne escape from the dungeons. Therefore, she must share his fate.” Her lips stretched in a spiteful smile, for she was pleased that they had come up with a believable charge against Megan. “In the future, if anyone challenges my authority, they will suffer the same punishment.”

“My daughter is not a traitor!” Hugh screamed in rage. Nothing could ease the pounding anger flowing through him. “She has never betrayed King Richard and England!”

Isabella was stunned for a moment. Everything seemed to slow to a maddening, surreal pace as she oscillated her gaze to Megan and Guy. She stared at Guy, wide-eyed, her mouth twisted in confusion, but then she gathered her wits and gave her brother a farewell smile and the last gaze of hatred.

The lady sheriff turned her gaze at Hugh Bennet. “Lady Megan is a traitor,” she insisted.

“It is a wretched lie,” the desperate man protested.

The Baron of Rotherham stared at Hugh Bennet. “Lord Hugh, I hereby confirm, with a heavy heart, that Lady Megan was convicted of treason and condemned to death,” he intervened, speaking in a high and official tone, but his face reminded the twisted leering of a devilish hypocrite – he was reveling in the emotional torment of Megan’s father. “It is a duty of all loyal and honest subjects to place under arrest and execute those who committed an act of high treason. Justice must be served!”

“You both are traitors,” Hugh’s shrilling voice soared in the cold air. He strode forward, but the guards held him back. “You are criminals, not my daughter!”

Rotherham laughed menacingly. “We also have two more prisoners for today’s execution.” He snapped his fingers, looking at Blamire. “Bring out the other prisoners.”

Blamire bowed and said, “One moment, Lord Rotherham.”

“This is excellent and sweet! We will have a splendorous spectacle today!” Rotherham said in singsong tones that resembled Vaisey’s manner of delivering his theatrical speeches so much.

A deadly silence stretched out as the baron stopped talking. Everyone looked at the two other people who were sentenced to death as well. The peasants gasped as the guards extruded Rebecca of Locksley and her daughter, Kate of Locksley, out of the castle and to the front steps; the nobles didn’t react because they didn’t know the prisoners.

Yesterday, Kate had been discovered by Blamire in the strong room in the castle, where she had tried to steal money which Prince John had refused to pay as a reward for Guy’s capture. After Kate had been incarcerated, at Rotherham’s suggestion, Isabella had ordered the guards to apprehend Rebecca, so that they could execute the potters together, making an example out of them and showing everyone what sort of punishment thieves would suffer in the shire. Isabella allowed one of the female peasants to take little Maggie, Rebecca’s youngest daughter, to her household.

Rebecca and Kate looked panic-stricken. Their faces were red, their eyes overflowing with tears; they had been crying during the whole night after Blamire had told them that they would be executed tomorrow. Like Guy and Megan, they had been sentenced to a noble method of execution – beheading. Blamire had told them that they should be immensely grateful and honored that they wouldn’t be hanged, for hanging, not beheading by an axe or a sword, was a usual punishment for peasants.

“You have no right to execute us!” Rebecca of Locksley screamed, trying to wrench out of the grip of the guard who hit her and sniggered at her unsuccessful attempts. But the woman persisted and cried out, “Release me! Release us!”

“Release us! We have done nothing wrong!” Kate shrieked, tears streaming down her cheeks. In an attempt to subdue her, the guard slapped her hard across her cheek.

“We cannot be executed!” Rebecca cried out desperately. “Robin Hood stole from the sheriff many times over, and now he is remembered as a noble hero! We are not worse than Hood!”

Guy and Megan were already standing on the scaffold, watching the scene in startled awe.

Guy’s eyes locked with Kate’s, and he distinguished fear in her red-rimmed eyes that were swollen from hours of crying. He wondered whether Kate felt guilty of betraying him to Prince John, and somehow he saw in her scared gaze that she was feeling that way. Guy despised Kate, but he felt a lump forming in his throat at the sight of the terrified Kate and Rebecca. As he looked around, a thought occurred to him that he would have begged Isabella to spare their lives, if he wasn’t gagged.

“Damn,” Robin cursed. “We have a problem. We have four people to save.”

“Looks like Isabella is going to have them all executed,” Carter assumed.

Archer let out a distressed sigh. “I am more than shocked.”

“Tuck, are you ready?” Robin inquired, looking at the Hospitaller and hoping that he could trust him.

Tuck nodded. “I am always ready, Sir Robin.”

Robin smiled, relieved. “Very well then.”

“Are Will, Djaq, and Robert ready?” Carter asked.

Robin looked away and stared at the prisoners on the scaffold. “Yes, they are. I hope that Allan, Much, and John won’t come here because they can ruin other plans.”

§§§

Robin and his friends couldn’t fantasize that Allan and Little John would make a great mess out of their plan. Yet, Robin felt a knot of anxiety forming in his stomach as a feeling of bad foreboding was creeping into every part of him. He prayed that they would be able to save the four prisoners.

The hooded man stood in the crowd, looking at a shackled Guy with steel-hearted satisfaction. He would have killed Guy by his own hands, brutally torturing him until the man would have sobbed and beseeched for mercy, and now he believed that beheading was too merciful a punishment for what Guy had allegedly done to his Robin. He had been searching for Guy for many weeks in the daytime, hiding in Sherwood in the night. And when he had suddenly overheard the conversation of two peasants in Locksley about Guy’s execution, he had nearly run to Nottingham. Malcolm of Locksley coveted to avenge Robin’s death and wanted Guy dead, and today he would witness his sworn foe’s execution.

Kate and Rebecca were led to the front steps and forced to their knees.

Blamire handed Isabella the parchment, which she unfolded and began to read; it was about the charges leveled against the potters.

Isabella started reading, holding the parchment up with both hands. “I, Lady Isabella of Gisborne, the Sheriff of Nottingham, hereby declare Rebecca and Kate of Locksley guilty of theft. They are sentenced to death through beheading despite their low social standing. The sentence cannot be commuted to imprisonment and must be carried out as soon as possible.”

“Lady Isabella, please don’t execute us!” Rebecca implored. “My daughter made a mistake, but she is young and dim-witted! Please pardon her! Take only my life!”

Isabella shook her head in denial. “No, your appeal cannot be considered.” She smiled maliciously. “If someone is caught stealing something from my coffers, they will suffer capital punishment as well.”

Many people began to shake their heads disapprovingly. The picture was really a heart-shredding one, and Isabella’s heartlessness didn’t earn her popularity among the town folks.

Hidden in the crowd, Robin breathed in deeply, looking between Carter, Archer, and Tuck. “Isabella reminds me of her brother and of what I saw when I returned to Nottingham.”

“Isabella is out of her mind,” Archer asserted. “She is even crueler than I thought.”

A dark smile flirted over Robin’s lips, and a look of pure disdain flashed across his face, fortunately under his hood. “She complies with John’s orders. She will do everything to accumulate more power.”

“And this is my sister,” Archer managed to murmur through the tightness in his throat.

Rebecca was shaking in anger and fear. She started sobbing and couldn't speak for a minute; then she beseeched, “Lady Isabella, please, I beg you not to execute us!” She swallowed her sobs. “Robin Hood was a thief, but he was pardoned and is mourned by everyone in the town!”

“Robin Hood’s case was different,” Isabella pinpointed; she truly regretted Robin’s death.

Kate’s eyes welled with tears. “Mother, don’t you see that it is in vain? She will kill us!”

Rotherham laughed. “Four people are dying today. It is good when Prince John’s law is enforced.”

Isabella’s face was sharp with contempt at the sight of Rotherham’s gloating face; suddenly, she felt miserable in spite of having power and wealth. Her gaze flickered to Guy. “In the name of King Richard I of England, I, Lady Isabella Gisborne, the Sheriff of Nottingham, hereby proclaim the judgment pronounced by Prince John and the court of law against Guy of Gisborne and Megan of Attenborough to be good and right. All possible appeals against the verdict will be viewed as groundless.”

“Gisborne is the murderer of Robin Hood!” Malcolm cried out from the crowd. He didn’t care about anyone among the prisoners, for his judgment was clouded by his grief over Robin’s death. “He must pay for the murder of Robin of Locksley! He killed Lord Robin who saved the king and sacrificed his life for England, for all of us!” He raised his voice. “Gisborne’s soul is irredeemable!”

Malcolm’s cries elicited the fulminous and violent response from the angry people. Only one thing could pacify their anger – the sight of Guy’s severed head on the block.

“The murderer of Robin Hood!” the people in the crowd echoed.

“Die like a dog and rot in hell!”

“He killed Robin Hood!”

“He murdered our hero!”

“He deserves to die!”

“Burn in hell, you damned murderer!”

Robin was tossing his head, looking around and searching for the hooded man amidst the sea of the people. As soon as he heard Malcolm’s voice, he remembered it from childhood. He knew that his father was there, and that filled his heart with apprehension.

Archer glanced at Robin. “Brother, your death had a tremendous effect on the people.”

Robin didn’t hear Archer’s words; his heart was hammering to suffocation. “Archer, our father is here.”

“What?” Archer’s eyes widened.

Robin leaned closer to his half-brother. His hood shadowed his face. “I remember his voice very well,” he whispered into Archer’s ear. “He is somewhere in the crowd.”

There was a sigh from Archer before he spoke. “Really?”

“Yes,” Robin confirmed. “He thinks that Guy murdered me and came here to watch him die.”

Archer scowled and gritted his teeth. A surge of intense anger swept through him at the thought of Malcolm, and the ferocity of his temper was inappeasable. “He came here to gloat, damn him.”

Suddenly, a shriek ripped through the crowd, and the people began to shift, jostling each other to make way for a young blonde-haired man running toward the block. The newcomer held a longbow in his hands and targeted Isabella. Behind this man, a giant stood, shouting at him and persuading him to stop; he had a large wooden staff in his hands. The two men were Allan and John who had come to Nottingham as soon as they had learned about Guy’s execution.

“Guy of Gisborne is innocent! All the accusations against him are false!” Allan made a mind-blowing declaration as he stopped near the front steps. He aimed at Isabella’s chest. “He didn’t murder Robin Hood! Sheriff Vaisey killed Robin! I was in Acre and watched Robin draw his last breath!”

The announcement drew a gasp of shock from the crowd, and a dumbfounded silence followed.

Little John was exceedingly impressed by Allan’s valiant attempt to save Gisborne, and that gave him the courage to act. “Guy of Gisborne didn’t kill Robin – Vaisey did that! Prince John lied when he accused Gisborne of Robin’s murder!” he proclaimed, standing at Allan’s right. “Gisborne destroyed Vaisey, the man who tormented the populace for so many years!”

Looking at Isabella, Allan felt that he had probably never been as full of bitterness, anger, and hatred as he was at the moment. After Robin’s death in Acre, Prince John’s proclamation, and Guy’s capture, days of impotent rage had burned under his skin until the moment when he had learned about today’s execution, and now he couldn’t keep silent anymore – he needed to speak about the tragedies and injustices which he had witnessed and failed to prevent.

“Lady Isabella, you are being unfair to both Robin and Guy,” Allan promulgated, narrowing his eyes at Isabella. “Robin honorably sacrificed his life to save King Richard! I loved Robin, and he was a great man! His death was the most underserved one!” His voice was a message which was full of anguish, pain, and sorrow. “But Gisborne didn’t take Robin’s life – he tried to save the king and he himself was seriously wounded by you, Lady Isabella! Because of you, Robin was tricked by Vaisey and was killed by this monster. You are guilty of Robin’s death as much as Vaisey was!” He raised his voice so that it rang out adamantly in the courtyard. “You must be ashamed of what you did to Robin Hood: you not only helped Vaisey murder him, but you also tarnish his memory by executing Guy as his murderer!”

“Blatant and brazen lies!” Isabella disavowed the accusation.

Isabella rose from her chair. She blanched and shut her eyes again, clenching her small fist to still the trembling of her hands. She recognized Allan at first glance, for she had seen him in the castle before and she had also been tied up to the poles in the desert with him. And she could see in his eyes the arctic determination to kill her; she could sense his bloodlust in the air. Mortal terror filled her heart.

Guy surveyed Allan and John, his heart pounding in delight. He was so pleased that there was someone who stood up for him, especially Allan whom he grew to love as a friend; he was also astonished that John supported Allan. Despite being gagged, Guy gasped for air, his heart beating faster.

Robin regarded Allan and John with a look of amazement. He closed his eyes against the memory of his own death in Imuiz, for it seemed unnatural when the people spoke about it when he was alive. He opened his eyes and stared at Allan and John, wondering where Much was. Then an aching feeling of anxiety began to burgeon inside of him as a thought entered his mind – they were ruining his plan.

“What the devil does that mean?” Carter growled. “They are not helping us.”

Robin sighed. “Allan likes Guy. They befriended one another when he was Gisborne’s right-hand man,” he explained, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “And now they might foil our plan.”

Archer grabbed one of Robin’s hands and implored him, “We cannot leave Guy! Please don’t do this!”

Robin managed a morale-boosting smile for Archer and released his hand from the other man’s hold. “We will proceed with our initial plan, though with some corrections,” he pledged as he backed away slightly. He looked around, scanning the area carefully. “I wonder where Much is.”

“Looks like Much is not here,” Carter opined.

The Baron of Rotherham advanced forward, but then he stopped, his instinct of self-preservation preventing him from approaching Allan. “You are a criminal if you are defending Gisborne,” he gave his verdict. “Stop and offer a public apology! Put your weapon down and admit your guilt!”

Taking a few steps along with Little John, Allan uttered a cry of rage and trepidation. Then he said in a wrathful voice, “I am not a criminal! I was pardoned by King Richard! And Guy was pardoned as well!” He gripped his longbow tightly, for his hands were shaking. “Lady Isabella, I am gonna warn you only one more time. If you don’t release Guy of Gisborne and the three women, I will shoot you.”

Isabella wanted to intimidate Allan. “You have just sentenced yourself to death, Allan-a-dale.”

Allan didn’t take into account Isabella’s threat. “Release them, Lady Isabella! Or I swear you will die.”

Malcolm couldn’t wait any longer. There was nobody who could sway him from the decision he had already made. Anger flared up in his blood; he prepared his old Saracen bow and stepped in the direction of the scaffold, but then he paused.

Lord Hung Bennet extricated from the guards’ hold and advanced forward, stopping on the front steps. “Grab your weapons and stand against the sheriff!” he addressed the people. “Robin Hood stood up against tyranny three years ago, and he protected us while he was fighting for our freedom in the woods.” He crossed himself. “But Sir Robin is dead, God bless his gentle soul! Now we are alone with tyrants, but we can still defend ourselves!”

Megan’s heart was beating so fast that it was almost bursting out of her thorax. She feared the outcome of the day for her dear father, and as her eyes met Guy’s, she saw the same horror in them.

“Let’s change our lives! We must be as honorable and brave as Lord Huntingdon was! Let’s free ourselves from pure evil!” Hung continued, aggressively gesticulating. “We must unite our forces and settle scores with traitors – Lady Isabella of Gisborne and Lord Rotherham! They are traitors to England and King Richard! They are–” He broke off, before bending over, coughing, and trying to catch his breath. “They did something bad to King Richard who disappeared on the way from Acre!”

Isabella nodded at Blamire, who then barked orders to the guards. In the next moment, an arrow whizzed in the air, catching Hugh unawares and piercing his thigh. And then another arrow flew and struck Hugh in his chest; it pierced him straight through his lungs. The unfortunate freedom fighter fell to the ground, two wooden shafts protruding out of his chest and his thigh.

Megan saw her father fall, but she could do nothing to save him. She kept staring at her father’s prone form, feeling her face heat up, and her eyes were misty with tears. A wave of sobs washed over her, shaking her with violent tremors. Guy looked at her with deep sympathy and affection. But they were held by the guards, and he couldn’t reach out for her to comfort her.

Meanwhile, Malcolm took a step forward, making the people around him part the way as they stared at him, an unknown man armed with a bow. The danger was emanating from every inch of Malcolm’s body, and the fact that he was completely hooded made the people give screams of fear.

Malcolm drew back the bowstring, ready to nock an arrow. “You are an idiot if you want to stop the execution!” His menacing voice boomed in the air. “He murdered Robin Hood! He killed… the savior… of King Richard, England, and the people!” His voice was cracking, and emotions of pain mingled with anger overwhelmed him. Grief and anguish swelled to a torrent inside of him, stinging his eyes and turning each breath into a raspy sob. “He took Lord Robin’s life! He killed our hero! Our savior! He murdered–” His last words slurred. He wanted to say “my son” and stopped himself.

“Guy didn’t take Robin’s life,” Allan affirmed. He didn’t see Malcolm, but he felt that he was targeted, for he registered John’s terrified gaze; he knew that the man who spoke to him stood behind him.

“Don’t attack so far,” Isabella instructed.

The crowd was deathly silent. Every pair of eyes was on the desperate hooded man.

Robin and Archer shared shocked glances; Robin whispered something to Carter and Tuck, and then he left them because he had to get to Malcolm before it was too late. Guy also saw Malcolm and shuddered, subconsciously feeling that he knew the man who threatened Allan.

A tide of black rage rushed through Malcolm, and a thick angry fog began to penetrate his pain-clouded mind. Pieces of the false reality that Robin had died at Guy’s hand came together in his head to guide him, and he was seized with bloodlust. An arrow flew a deadly course and struck Allan in the back.

Allan gave a howl of pain and tumbled to the pavement. Malcolm wanted to fire several more arrows, but someone grabbed him, wrested the bow from him, and dragged him forcibly to the ground.

“Allan! Allan!” John screamed in a horror-stricken voice, his heart thundering in his chest.

John rushed to his friend and crouched, his eyes focusing on Allan who lay with his face down, on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his back.

Allan moved, but the pain in his back was so strong that it precluded him from moving again. He remained motionless, pain evident in every tense line of his body. “I am not being funny, but… it hurts so much,” he said in a pained whisper. “Damn the man who wounded me!”

John sighed with relief that Allan was alive. “You are alive! Thanks be to God!”

“Blamire, arrest them! They are outlaws!” Isabella shouted. “Arrest them!”

At Blamire’s command, several guards rushed to Allan and John. They surrounded them, intending to take them to the dungeons. At the sight of the arrow in Allan’s back, they shared confused glances.

John withdrew the arrow from Allan’s body, and the injured man cried out in pain. “You will be alright. You won’t die,” he crooned. Then he gazed at the guards. “Don’t you see that he is seriously wounded? You cannot take us to the dungeons! He needs a doctor!”

At the same time, Malcolm of Locksley was experiencing the shock of his whole life: he was looking into the pale blue eyes of his presumably-dead son Robin, who almost lay atop of him with after he had thrown himself at his father to stave off the disaster – to prevent the man from shooting another arrow at Allan or Guy. Malcolm needed only an instant to recognize his grown-up son.

Robin blew out an exasperated breath, his eyes blazing with angry fire. “I have never dreamt that this meeting will happen under such dire circumstances,” he articulated between clenched teeth. “Aren’t you happy to see your own son?” A wealth of contradictory emotions coursed through him – shock, amazement, excitement, rage, contempt, resentment, and at last hatred.

Malcolm shuddered, spasms rippling through him as his body reacted to the shock of meeting with a very-much-alive Robin, but more to his son’s hateful tone and gaze. “Robin… Robin…” he muttered.

Robin adroitly got to his feet. “Now stand up!” he said in a hissing tone. “And don’t even try to do something outrageous… like you just did.”

Malcolm obeyed and leaped to his feet, not expecting his son to give him a hand. “They said that you had died,” he murmured, his mind going numb from shock.

Robin shifted the hood on Malcolm’s head, so that he could see the older man’s face. He stared into his father’s eyes. “I died, and yet I am alive,” he spoke in a softer voice. “Vaisey stabbed me, not Gisborne.”

Malcolm’s eyes were full of disbelief and shock. “Not Gisborne…”

Robin gave a nod. “Exactly.”

“But… but…” Malcolm lowered his head, fearing that someone in the crowd would see his scarred face.

“Enough,” Robin snapped as he wrapped his arms around the old man’s waist, his eyes searching for Archer around. “Now you will leave, and we will talk later.”

They stood in the crowd of the people, who parted to let the two hooded men walk away from the front steps. Isabella shouted commands to arrest the hooded man who had shot Allan, but they blended with the crowd and were able to cover their tracks well.

“What about you, Robin?” Malcolm’s voice was overwrought and quavering.

Robin’s gaze wandered to the scaffold where Guy and Megan stood. “I have some deals here.”

All the color drained from Malcolm’s face as he realized what his son was planning. “You cannot save Gisborne. You cannot risk your life for this murderous thug,” he said in a fearful voice.

“Be quiet!” Robin turned his father to himself, seizing him by the throat and shaking him like a doll, rudely and unconcerned about the pain his hands were inflicting on the exposed skin of Malcolm’s throat. “You wounded Allan, one of my men; maybe you even killed him. I stopped you in time.” His eyes glowed reproachfully. “What were you thinking?”

Malcolm’s heart was full of guilt. “Robin, you are entitled to objurgate me, but I beg you to understand me. I was sure that Gisborne… had killed you, and I wanted him dead.” He placed his hands on Robin’s shoulders, ignoring that Robin had treated him without dignity and respect just a moment ago. “And this young blonde man… was about to ruin the day.”

“You were zealous to neutralize the threat – Allan – because his actions could result in the cancellation of the execution,” Robin finished for him. He released Malcolm, feeling remorse for being so cruel to his father. But it wasn’t time to display his remorse. “You were wrong.” He folded his arms over his chest, and his features were clad in an iron curtain of contempt. “You have done so many wrong things.”

Malcolm was unable to look at Robin and averted his eyes. “You hate me, don’t you?”

Robin had no answer to this question. “I don’t know.”

They continued walking as Robin didn’t want to give his father a chance to do anything else. Malcolm was looking around, guessing where they were going, but he didn’t dare ask Robin anything.

Malcolm and Robin left the central courtyard and turned around the corner, where they stopped near one of the buildings. There were fewer people there, but a handful of men, who were there, eyed the two hooded men with suspicion and terror in their eyes.

In a few moments, Archer emerged from around the corner of a nearby building. Robin nodded at his half-brother, signaling that he had found their father.

Archer stopped next to his relatives. “Is it him?”

Robin gave a nod. “Yes, Archer. Take him from here, please. He should wait for us in the empty lane between the bakery and the local whorehouse.”

Archer blinked in surprise. “And you, Robin?” He shook his head. “I cannot leave you.”

Malcolm could only stare at his second son in shock; he recognized him in a split second. “Archer? Archer?” His voice was barely a whisper. “You?”

Archer laughed gibingly. “Aren’t you happy to see your two sons together?”

Pink color stained Malcolm’s cheeks and, slanting Robin and Archer two swift glances, he thanked God that his offspring had somehow found each other. “But… how is that possible?”

“Long story,” Robin croaked. “Archer, take him away. I should go now.”

Malcolm inhaled and exhaled soundly, focusing on finding the right words. “Gisborne is not worthy of the kindness you extend to him, but I can do nothing to stop you. Go, both of you, and be careful.” He sighed wearily. “I will be waiting for you in the forest, in the abandoned cottage near the old mill, in the western part of Sherwood, beyond the inner circle. Come there after you complete your mission.”

Archer and Robin exchanged uneasy glances, not knowing whether to believe Malcolm or not. Then Robin nodded wordlessly, motioning Archer to go, and Archer nodded back in agreement.

Malcolm watched the two young men walk off, his heart pounding harder. He didn’t know how to face his two sons, who would surely come to him soon and would demand explanations. His attack on Allan was a horrid mistake, but he was blinded by the thirst for revenge and couldn’t think straight. And yet, happiness blossomed in his heart because Robin, his beloved son, was alive, and it was the best gift he could ever have; despite all his fears and many uncertainties in his life, he was happy.

§§§

Robin and Archer vanished in the throng, looking for Carter and Tuck, who patiently waited for them in the opposite part of the square. They both were seething with anger that Malcolm had interfered and had injured Allan. However, some good came out of the grungy situation – Malcolm’s actions had delayed the execution, giving Robin and Archer enough time to find Carter and Tuck.

Robin stopped as he spotted Carter and Tuck. “We have to alter our plan,” he declared.

“What do you want to do?” Archer asked worriedly.

“Do you have a new half-a-plan?” Carted laughed.

Robin chuckled. “This time, I have a whole plan.” He veered his gaze to Tuck. “Tuck, I need you to do something very risky. We have to make a performance, and you will be in the limelight.”

Robin and his friends started the dialogue about changes of their initial plan. Tuck nodded twice during the debate, being entirely supportive of Robin’s plan, but Archer and Carter were unnerved and shook their heads disapprovingly.

“We have no other options,” Robin objected. “Everything has changed for the worse: Allan is wounded, and we have more people to save. We have to risk and improvise.”

Robin instructed Tuck to go to the center of the courtyard, and the friar obeyed without any question. As they stalked into the heart of the crowd, moving closer to the scaffold, Robin looked concentrated and unperturbed, but the others weren’t so composed. Then they parted their ways: Tuck kept walking towards the scaffold, while Robin, Carter, and Archer headed to the battlements.

“The Nightwatchman! It is him!” Isabella cried out.

“Ten guards, get him! After him!” Blamire shouted. He decided to send a small group of the guards after the Nightwatchman while others would guard the prisoners and protect Isabella and Rotherham.

The guards and everyone stared at the battlements where a male figure of average height, wearing the Nightwatchman’s costume, appeared. He stood unmoving near the battlements, surveying the square. There was an English sword sheathed in a silver scabbard that hung at the Nightwatchman’s waist.

Guy was shocked to the core. His frantic eyes were darting between Allan on the ground and the Nightwatchman. He felt his heartbeat quickening as he studied the Nightwatchman closely. He knew that this time, it wasn’t Marian because she couldn’t be there. He found himself so confused that he understood absolutely nothing. Megan was shaking her head, feeling helpless and lost.

As a sea of guards launched an assault on the Nightwatchman, the masked hero swung around and ran rapidly from the central square, disappearing in a maze of the narrow streets and lanes.

Guy watched the Nightwatchman move, and a thought pervaded his mind that the hero was a man, not a woman. The question was who he was and why he appeared there before the execution. Guy’s mind was racing through possible explanations, but he arrived at the dead end.

Determined to prevent a disorder from spreading and escalating in the courtyard, Isabella turned to Blamire. “Silence! Silence!” her voice thundered. She waited until hush fell over the crowd before she resumed speaking. “Proceed with the execution!”

The guards pushed Megan and Gisborne down, on their knees, and the prisoners were positioned behind large stumps with wide notches cut out for their heads.

Kate and Rebecca were dragged to the scaffold by the guards as well. Then Isabella announced that the potters would be executed after Megan and Guy.

“Proceed with the execution,” Isabella repeated her command.

Standing behind the lady sheriff, the Baron of Rotherham let out a sigh of frustration. “Oh, I pity Lady Megan. She is so beautiful and so young to die, but she brought this death upon herself.”

In the crowd, Robin observed two executioners take their axes. His temper was quickly rising, and a furious, foaming rage simmered in his blood. He loathed Isabella for her treachery in Acre, but today he was almost berserk with rage. Now the depth of his rage was different – his anger was as jagged and sharp and dangerous as broken ice, for Isabella had crossed the line of his tolerance.

“I wonder why Gisborne and Lady Megan are gagged,” Robin mused aloud. “If Isabella is going to execute them with gagged mouths, then there is something she fears they can say aloud.”

“They definitely know something interesting,” Archer agreed.

“Perhaps, even about the king,” Carter volunteered an opinion.

Robin shrugged. “Maybe.”

Carter eyed Robin with alarm. “Robin, are you really going to do this?”

“Yes, I am. There is important work to be done,” Robin replied in a steady voice. “The Nightwatchman provided us with distraction, for Isabella sent many guards to pursue him. Will and Djaq will provide another distraction, and Tuck is ready.” He chuckled. “And then I will save the day.”

Archer inwardly sighed. “Are you sure, Robin?”

“Yes. No more questions please,” Robin said dismissively.

The audience was silent as the execution no longer excited anyone.

Allan and Little John were still near the front steps, surrounded by six guards. John’s staff had been taken away, and now his hands were shackled. Allan lay motionless on the steps, moaning in pain, his eyes shut, and there was a pool of blood beneath his body.

“Wait!” Tuck shouted so loudly that everyone immediately turned to him. Looking at Isabella, he spoke in a calm and confident voice. “These people cannot be executed when they are gagged. They are in a need of last prayer, Lady Isabella! We must be merciful no matter how great their crimes are.”

Isabella frowned and narrowed his eyes as she rested them on Tuck, who stood right near the scaffold. “Who are you and what do you want? Are you a preacher?”

“I am Brother Tuck,” Tuck introduced himself. “It is sinful to offer no chance of absolution.”

The people in the crowd nodded. The picture of Guy and Megan standing on their knees on the scaffold was so heartrending that some of them dared voice their agreement with Tuck; they were also puzzled why Guy and Megan were gagged. At the same time, Robin smiled slyly under his hood, his heart pumping and his blood boiling with excitement in anticipation of the grand drama ahead.

Isabella heard the people’s whisperings. “Fine. You have my permission to have a short prayer, but they will remain gagged,” she conceded after a long moment of hesitation.

Tuck blessed himself with the cross and then began to pray. “Da, quaesumus Dominus, ut in hora mortis nostrae Sacramentis refecti et culpis omnibus expiati In sinum misericordiae tuae laeti…”

Rotherham looked displeased. “Always the same, these monks.”

“That's enough of the piety,” Isabella snarled, her hands balled into fists at her side. “No amount of prayer words can cleanse their blackened souls. Their sins cannot be absolved.”

“Wait! In the name of God, wait!” Tuck protested, glancing defiantly towards the lady sheriff. “What are you doing? Lady Isabella, you and Prince John, your master and lover, will be punished for executing these four innocent people!” He ignored Blamire's shouts and continued his well-rehearsed speech. “They are innocent! You cannot execute them! You cannot kill them!”

Guy and Megan stared in startled awe at Tuck, their hearts thumping harder and harder. Something was clearly going to happen, and they began to experience the stirrings of hope.

"What?" Isabella yelled as she jumped to her feet and made a step forward. “You have no right to defy Prince John and me!” Her gaze flipped to Blamire. “Arrest this monk!”

“Capture this monk!” Blamire ordered to one of the guards, who dared not disobey and stalked towards Tuck, who hustled to mingle with the crowd and was out of their sight.

“Where is this man? Where is he?” Isabella inquired, bewildered.

“What is going on?” the Baron of Rotherham said, irritated.

In a split second, Tuck again appeared near the scaffold and outstretched his arms. “Soon God will speak. The skies will darken, and the sun will disappear.”

All at once, everything went dark, and a deathlike hush reigned in the courtyard. With every second, it was getting darker and darker, and soon the sun was shaded by the large black ball as the moon stood in a direct line between the Earth and the sun. The chaos, great and profound, ruled by the panicking and frightened people during those minutes; cries and screams of horror rang in the air.

"There, it is happening," Tuck spoke again, his hands still outstretched. “Have faith! For soon a new day will dawn, and you will be saved! Darkness will be gone, and light will come to the world!”

“What is happening? What is it?” Isabella questioned, obviously frightened.

Blank terror gripped Rotherham. “What on earth is going on?”

“What is it? Is it the devil coming?” Kate of Locksley cried out, staring up, at the sky.

“It is the devil’s doing!” Rebecca of Locksley murmured, her gaze fixed on her daughter’s shocked face.

Megan and Guy lifted their eyes to the sky, both astounded and surprised, like everyone else. Their haphazard guess was that it might have been a solar eclipse, for they both were well-educated people and were aware of such strange things happening from time to time on earth. But there was something mystical in the fact that the moon entirely blocked out the sun moments before their beheading.

“The sun emerges again like England's protector,” Tuck’s voice coursed through the air. “Everything is changing! For, out of this darkness, a legend will rise! Hope will be re-born! A new dawn is coming! The sun will rise again over England, over every town and village!” He turned to the battlements, waiting for Robin to appear there as they had agreed. “England’s greatest hero is coming back! His journey is complete! He steps into the light, and he will save you! He has returned! The legend is alive!"

All at once, the slender male figure emerged near the battlements. The man was dressed in trousers and a doublet of dark green color, and he also wore a green velvet cloak; his head was hooded. He was holding a Saracen recurved bow in his hands, aiming at Isabella of Gisborne; a curved Saracen scimitar, sheathed in a golden scabbard, hung at his waist.

Guy shuddered, uneasily aware that in some definable way the newcomer reminded him of Robin. He stared at the hooded man in green clothing, trying to figure out what was happening. He saw so much strong resemblance to Robin in this man that he thought he was hallucinating. Robin Hood was dead – he had died in Imuiz, and it couldn’t be him. But then who was the man? The picture before his eyes shocked him, raising numerous questions within him, and the need to know the answers battled with the equal hope that he wouldn’t die today, that he would be saved by this mysterious man.

"It cannot be true,” John prattled. “He is dead.”

“What is going on?” Allan groaned. He couldn’t see the enigmatic man in green, for he still lay on the steps, writhing in pain from the wound.

The people in the crowd stood frozen in a state of dazed shock, everyone staring at the hooded man. Shaking her head in shock, Isabella threw her hands up in despair and landed onto her chair.

Robin made a mocking bow. “I have missed all of you so much,” he began in a high voice.

Guy blinked as if that could fix his slightly blurred vision. His pulse raced, and blood pounded in his head. Dread overmastered him, and his expression evolved into sheer disbelief and then into utter shock. He knew that male voice – he could recognize it even among a thousand more voices.

There was a shocked silence in the central square, and all eyes riveted on the hooded Robin.

Robin flung off his hood and tossed his sandy-haired head, his gorgeous mane billowing in the wind. He smiled cheekily and turned to Isabella, and, as he locked his gaze with hers, his pale blue eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. In a moment, Robin turned away from her and looked at the people – his people, whom he had fed and protected in the darkest days of Nottingham’s history. He grinned widely, pleased with the effect his appearance had on everyone.

Robin pulled back the bowstring and shot two arrows, which pinned Isabella to the chair, where she was sitting. He fired another arrow that embedded itself near the Baron of Rotherham’s feet, and then two more arrows whizzed in an inch from both sides of Blamire’s head.

Isabella looked up at the sun, shielding her eyes with her hand. Then she glanced back at Robin, who stood silhouetted against the sun. “No, he cannot be here,” she murmured.

“Vaisey boasted that he had killed him.” Baron of Rotherham took several steps back.

Grinning mischievously, Robin laughed outright. “I am so glad that so many people have come to Nottingham today. I see that I was missed in England while I was away,” he promulgated with a note of laughter in his voice. “I am Robin of Locksley, the Earl of Huntingdon! I am Robin Hood!”

John smiled gleefully, shaking his head in disbelief. “Robin…” He crouched and leaned over Allan, whispering, “Robin… is alive, Allan. He has come to rescue us.”

But Allan didn’t hear him. He had already passed out from the blood loss and pain.

Isabella shook her head. “No, it is impossible!”

“He cannot be alive! And yet he is…” Rotherham was struggling to accept the truth as well He shook his head, and an incredulous look draped across his features. “Surprise, surprise…”

“Have you missed me, Lady Isabella?” Robin addressed the villainess in a chilly tone of unmasked derision. “We haven’t seen each other for so long!” He shot another arrow that flew in an inch from Isabella’s ear. He was now staring fixedly at the woman who one of the main perpetrators of his tragic demise in Imuiz. “Lady Isabella, I remember the day when you conspired with Sheriff Vaisey in Acre and attempted regicide on King Richard’s life!” A smile was gone from his face, and his expression changed into harshness. “I will remember this day until the day of my real death.”

“No, no, no,” Isabella muttered. Her head was swimming, and she felt nauseated, as if she might throw up. She couldn’t comprehend how Robin could be alive.

Holding his bow in his right hand, Robin pointed his left hand at Isabella. The moon shone like a dark angel over his shoulder. “The people of Nottingham, you were fed with lies for so long, but I will tell you the truth about the events in Acre.” He spoke in a high voice, his eyes full of anger. “Lord Peter Vaisey, the former Sheriff of Nottingham, and Lady Isabella of Gisborne traveled to the Holy Land to assassinate King Richard.” He narrowed his eyes to slits. “The king was injured by Vaisey’s arrow, but he wasn’t killed. We thwarted their treacherous plans.”

The silence was broken by the loud, blithesome cries of the peasants. The shock of Robin’s unexpected appearance was gone, and the people gave joyful cries and smiled. The villagers of Locksley were enthusiastically greeting their real master, smiling at him and bowing to him in deep respect.

“Shut him up! Shut him up!” Isabella shouted. She was able to stand from her chair as Rotherham had already extracted Robin’s arrows from the chair. “He is saying falsehood!”

Robin shook his head. “Lady Isabella of Gisborne, you are charged with the attempted regicide on the king’s life.” His gaze drifted to Guy, and a tiny smile tugged his lips upward. “Guy of Gisborne didn’t try to kill the king! He tried to save our liege, but Lady Isabella shot him!” He grimaced in disgust. “She not only tried to kill the king, but also injured her own brother!”

Meanwhile, Carter and Archer stood in the crowd, watching the scene of Robin’s resurrection.

“It is sheer madness, but it is sweet madness,” Archer assessed, grinning under his hood.

“Archer, be ready to save Robin’s ass again. We must stay close to him,” Carter warned.

Robin was smiling as he eyed the smiling people, but his features hardened and a vindictive light shone in his eyes as he looked back at Isabella. “Guy of Gisborne didn’t try to kill me in Acre!” he repeated in a booming voice. He wasn’t going to reveal the truth about Guy’s two grave crimes – the first failed regicide attempt in a Saracen disguise and the second attempt on his liege’s life; on the contrary, he needed to whitewash the reputation of his former foe because Melisende and he had the plan to outwit and defeat Vaisey. “I was wounded by Lord Peter Vaisey! Gisborne is innocent – Vaisey is guilty!”

The people started whispering, more shocked than a few moments before.

Robin gave Isabella a close perusal, smiling at the realization that she was frightened by the turn of events; then he turned away and swept his eyes over the crowd. “Almost three years ago, I returned from the Crusade to Nottingham,” he continued, his gaze wandering around and not focusing on anyone in particular. “I was outlawed by Sheriff Vaisey after I had saved four people from hanging, which they didn’t deserve.” He paused, sighing deeply before saying something which he didn’t want to say but considered his duty to do. “I publicly protested against tyranny and oppression, and I did my best to make your life more bearable. But what I see now is disturbing and disappointing.”

A morbid quiet fell over the square. All the eyes were attached to Robin, for his return was sensational; they even forgot about their former fears of the solar eclipse.

“Guy of Gisborne killed Vaisey,” Robin stated; he didn’t say that he doubted Vaisey’s death. “But you came here to witness Gisborne’s death. You rejoiced at the prospect of his death.” His eyes locked with Guy’s. “How is that possible that you are happy to watch him die, knowing that he got rid of Vaisey, who ruined many lives and killed countless innocents? Prove that my eyes deceive me if I am wrong!”

Guy thought that he had gone mad. A multitude of feelings crossed his face: surprise, amazement, disbelief, admiration, and happiness. He couldn’t speak, but his face revealed his emotions clearly, and Robin could read them. He was full of gratitude to Robin for the honest words.

Robin’s accusing announcement drew a gasp of shock from the people, both the nobles and the peasants. Many of them lowered their heads in shame, while others began to whisper.

Robin shot another arrow at Isabella, and it again flew near her face but injured nobody. “I myself asked King Richard to pardon Guy of Gisborne, and the king granted my request.” His eyes met Guy’s for an instant, and then he again eyed the crowd. “If Gisborne was pardoned by the rightful King of England, then why do you tolerate that he is standing on the scaffold today?”

Guy felt his body trembling, and if he didn’t stand on his knees, he would have lost his balance after hearing Robin’s last words. He smiled broadly, looking at Robin. He felt as if something cool and soft were caressing his cheek, and he could almost feel its tender touch, so fleeting and brief, but full of tenderness. Never had he been so relieved that Robin wasn’t his enemy anymore; he felt that he was in debt to Robin.

The townspeople were shocked with Robin’s declaration, and many of them still held their heads low, feeling ashamed for the joy which they had felt before Guy’s execution. Robin himself had said that Vaisey had attempted regicide and had wounded the Lionheart, which meant that Prince John’s announcement was mendacious; Robin’s confession fully proved that.

“Arrest this man!” Isabella’s face was ghostly pale, and she was seized by panic. “He is a liar!”

Robin shrugged Isabella’s words off; he again bowed to the crowd and then turned to face Isabella. “The people of Nottingham,” he said in emphatic tones, “I am your humble servant. It is for you that I live to fight the evil that chokes this country. And if we all don’t stand together against all those who are the traitors to King Richard and the nation, the evil will destroy England and many innocent people will die! No longer shall we live in fear and darkness! We must stand together! Only then will the sun rise over this country, our England, once more!”

The people raised their eyes and looked at the resurrected hero. The peasants erupted into cheers, demonstrating their positive reception of their hero’s speech. While the cheers seemed never abating from the peasants, the nobles behaved in a more restrained manner, fearful of potential repercussions from Prince John and having no doubt that Isabella would notify him about the today’s events soon.

In spite of looking pompous and simultaneously hostile, Isabella was secretly relieved that Robin was alive. But she had to pretend and play her game. Turning to Rotherham, she began to speculate about the incredibility of the situation. "Robin of Locksley was mortally wounded. I saw Vaisey stab him in the gut, and I don't understand how he could have survived."

The Baron of Rotherham shrugged. “It doesn’t matter how Hood survived. We must kill him.”

Isabella became inwardly distressed. “Prince John wasn’t pleased with Hood’s death. Remember the consequences of his murder for the Poitevin nobles, who publicly accused the prince of the evil deed.”

“Then we must arrest Hood, and Prince John will decide what to do with him,” Rotherham proposed.

Isabella nodded vigorously. That was better than anything else, for she didn’t want to take part in Robin’s assassination. “You are right, my lord. We must capture Robin of Locksley, but not to kill him.”

“We will capture Hood and will give him to the prince,” Rotherham closed the topic, his gaze traveling from Isabella to Blamire. “Blamire, I want Robin Hood arrested; he must be unharmed.”

Blamire nodded. “It will be done, my lord.” Then he shouted the respective orders to the guards.