PART ONE
Chapter One
"As Constable to the King, it is my duty to decide both of your fates and to pronounce whatever sentence I see fit," spoke William Brewer to the two lords who sat side by side below him. Brewer himself was stretched out comfortably in the High Sheriff's chair, his heels lying slack on the table. He glared down at the two men as contemptuously as a god might gaze upon two fleas.
This was a trial to determine which lord had been responsible for the loss of the grain shipment collected from various villages of
the shire. This
grain was to have been added to the supplies sent to Newark, where King John was gathering an army of men to march against Llewellyn. Because both the High Sheriff, Robert de Rainault, and his steward, Sir Guy of Gisburne, had failed to safeguard this shipment, the charges levied against them were all the more
serious...and deadly.
Their plan to seek a pardon from King John was quickly dismissed when they both realized what truly lay at the bottom of their newly acquired cart, that
it wasn't the body of Robin Hood but some kind of clay-being instead. And so with this in mind, and too close to Nottingham to turn back, they had returned to the castle to await whatever fate had left in store for them. Now, a week later, they were facing a man who was about to determine not only their crimes, but their very lives as well.
They both knew which man was guilty. Perhaps William Brewer knew as well, but in a court run by King John's Constable justice didn't matter. Power was
the game here. The Sheriff had claimed that he would clear both their names, but every word that he and his brother had spoken that day had been against
his steward. Gisburne soon discovered that this was another promise the Sheriff didn't intend to keep. The Sheriff was only interested in saving his own neck, not risking it to save somebody else's. Unfortunately for Gisburne, the extent Robert de Rainault had gone to save himself had not made the knight look good at all.
"From what I have heard so far," spoke Brewer, "you, Guy of Gisburne, have much to answer for. Both the Sheriff and his brother, Lord Abbot Hugo de Rainault, have given various testimonies against you. I have listened to the accounts of both these men carefully and I don't like what I've heard. Your incompetence has been...utterly astounding! It has cost soldiers' lives rather than those of any of the outlaws, which was supposed to be your responsibility in the first place! In fact, you have made barely any progress whatsoever in
capturing this rogue, Robin Hood.
"Your ineptitude has been a shame for us all to bear. You have no right to any position within the law, or for that matter, any position at all! I find it incredible that you have managed to live this long without surrendering your head to an executioner's block and astonishing that you have not been tried
before this!" William Brewer paused, taking a long and exasperated sip from his wine cup before continuing. "I'm surprised, de Rainault, that you have put up with him all these years. Why did you allow him to continue working in your service for so long, when you knew the truth about his vices?" he questioned.
"My lord," answered the Sheriff, in his best speaking voice, "it shames me to think that I could have been so mistaken about the true nature of my steward and so blind to his...his wickedness and apparent abuse of power. Yes, I was blinded. Blinded by the loyalty I felt I owed a man who had once served
my good brother. Blinded by the belief that if I provided...Guy with the proper training and knowledge, he would eventually learn to be a competent steward
and deputy. I always thought of him as my...protege, hoping that one day he might take over the position of High Sheriff after my own untimely passing."
Gisburne stared at the Sheriff in amazement, unable to believe the complete fabrications that had just tumbled out of his mouth.
"That's a lie," he stated at last, finding his voice.
"What did you say?" inquired Brewer, squinting haughtily down his nose at Gisburne. "Is there something you wish to add?"
"Yes, my lord," answered the knight. The scribe stopped his frantic writing for a moment, as Guy rose slowly from his seat and placed both hands flat upon the
table in front of him. "They're lies! They're all lies!" he protested.
"All of them?"
"Well, yes. Most of them anyway."
"So you admit that some of the Sheriff's accounts are true. This is not good, Gisburne."
"My lord, I am innocent," pleaded Guy, with long and steady deliberation, and with something close to weariness in his voice. He had spoken those same words
some seven or eight times throughout the trial already. It had gotten to the point where even he had some trouble believing it.
"Gisburne, I wish to hear nothing further from you. Sit down. My lords, I have reached a decision. I find Guy of Gisburne guilty of mismanaging the supervision of the grain shipment from the villages of this shire, as well as plotting possible treason against our His Majesty, King John."
"That's not true!" exclaimed Guy, his blue eyes blazing as he jumped up again.
"Really, Gisburne, you should have more respect!" remonstrated the Sheriff. The fire behind the knight's eyes suddenly died and they became cold and barren. Suddenly, he launched himself on the Sheriff, both hands circling de Rainault's neck. In the end, it took three guards to pull Gisburne away.
"This has gone too far, Gisburne!" hissed Brewer, who was loath to such scenes of violence. "I have had enough of you! Tomorrow morning you will be sent to
the castle courtyard where I shall personally supervise your execution. Guards, take this thing to the dungeon!" he cried. Brewer's gavel crashed down on
the table, its loud echo ringing in the powerless knight's ears as he was hauled away.
* * * *
"Have you heard the news?" asked John, entering the outlaws' camp. "The King's heading for Nottingham. He should be here by tomorrow."
"But I thought he was in Newark gathering an army to march against the Welsh," replied Tuck, offering his friend a swig of ale, a gift from the rich and colourful merchant they had met that morning.
"I wouldn't have thought that anything would drag him back to Nottingham now."
"I reckon something bad has happened."
"Or something that was important enough to draw him away from Newark," added Tuck.
"Oh, oh. The Sheriff and Gisburne must have really messed up this time," said John with a grin.
"Don't be daft," stated Will, deciding to join in the conversation. "Those two are always getting into trouble and the King doesn't come running."
"Aye, well, maybe you're right, Will, but why did Gisburne run off to join Gulnar and Fenris then?" argued John. "Either the Sheriff got rid of him, or he
was in trouble, right?"
"He went back to the Sheriff though, didn't he?" said Will.
"Maybe the Sheriff wants to get rid of him again," suggested Much.
"He doesn't need the King to do that!" answered Tuck. "The Sheriff could easily boot him out any time he wants to."
"Or Gisburne could get himself booted out without anyone's help," muttered Will, causing his friends to laugh.
"Look, we still haven't figured out why King John's coming to Nottingham," spoke Tuck, who wasn't willing to let the subject rest just yet.
"And what road he'll be taking," voiced Nasir.
"But I want to know why he's planning to come to Nottingham in the first place!" persisted Tuck.
"To leave all his fancy jewels with the Sheriff so we can take them from him," answered Will. Tuck sighed and looked at Robin.
"Why do you think King John's coming to Nottingham, Robin?" he asked. The outlaws turned to their leader as one. Up until that moment Robin had
been trapped in a daze. He sensed that his men were staring at him and found that he had to release the one part of Marion he had left: his memories of her.
"I'm sorry, Tuck. What did you say?" Tuck rose and laid a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Why don't you go and talk to her?"
"What do you mean?" questioned Robin, although he knew perfectly well.
"Marion. Why don't you go and talk to her?"
"No. There's nothing left to say. She's made her decision. Nothing I can say will change her mind."
"Well, you can try, can't you?" said Will. "Maybe she has changed her mind."
"It's been a week, Will, and I haven't seen any sign of it."
"Perhaps she's afraid," spoke Much, trying to make a contribution.
"Don't be stupid. They love each other," replied Will.
"Yeah, but if she loves him, then why didn't she stay with us?" The outlaws groaned silently to themselves and Robin put his head in his hands.
"Much, go on watch," ordered Will.
"Why? What did I do?"
"Just go!" Much stood up, resigning himself to the task.
"Why is it always me who has to do it?" he grumbled, stomping away.
"You know, Much is right. She is afraid," said Robin, once Much had left. "She's afraid that if she loves me, she'll lose me as well. Perhaps she was
just trying to be kind. Perhaps she never loved me at all."
"Now hold on!" cried Tuck. "That isn't true! Listen, Robin, I've know Marion for some time. I've known her as a girl and as the woman she has become. She loves you. If you love her, you'll fight for that love. It's not too late. You can still go to her and--"
"No!" said Robin. "She's made her decision and I've accepted it."
"Look, lad, you haven't!" protested John, hoping to knock some sense into him. "You've been moping around this camp all week, saying nought to any of us. If
you really love her, go and tell her! You can't go on like this, Robin. You've got to do something." Robin seemed rather startled by this outburst, almost as
startled as John himself.
Robin opened his mouth to speak. Then, he cast his eyes away and quickly left the camp. John rose to stop him, but knew it was too late.
"Now why'd you do that for?" questioned Will, glaring at his confused companion.
"I didn't know he'd do that!"
"Yeah, well, maybe you should have. I should have sent you away instead of Much, that's what I should have done!"
"Ah...shut up, Scarlet!"
"Me? You're the one who--"
"That's enough," said Tuck, putting an end to their squabble. "This isn't going to help him and you know it. Isn't that right, Nasir?" The Saracen nodded wisely.
"It is right."
"Robin needs time to heal his broken heart," explained Tuck.
"Time heals all wounds," stated Nasir.
"If he's left alone, he can seek solace within himself and find comfort."
"There cannot be a new day without the sun..."
"As David said to Solomon--"
"Hold on, this is all hogwash, that's what it is!" exclaimed Will. "And since when have you had so much to say?" he asked Nasir. The Saracen smiled and
shrugged. "He's made us all mad, that's what he's done. I love Marion as much as you lot. Maybe even more. But it's her fault, ain't it? He's lost his
senses completely because of her. He's no good to anyone...He's absolutely useless!"
"Will's right. He can't even think straight anymore," replied John sadly.
"I'd best have a talk with him then," spoke Tuck.
"You had better," agreed Will. "Just keep David, Solomon, Moses and any of that other lot out of it."
Robin ran through Sherwood, swerving around trees, leaping over fallen logs and branches, heading deep into the forest's lair. His heart thumped and pounded
within him, his lungs threatening to burst. But he kept on running, heedless of it all.
There was a hollowness inside of him. An invisible claw had tightened around
his throat. Thinking of her made every breath he had to take more painful. He stopped and slid to the ground, exhausted more by his emotions than any
physical strain. Sweat beaded his brow and his hair clung damply to his face. He closed his eyes for a few moments, opening them to find mist creeping
slowly around him. For one moment, the glade was empty. Then, in a flash of brilliant light, Herne, forest god of Sherwood, had appeared. Robin went on one knee and Herne gently laid a hand on his shoulder.
"The Time of the Wolf has ended, but a new time could come to take its place."
"A new time?"
"A time where you control both beginning and end. A time which might have been, but wasn't. The people cry out and are lost in pain and despair. Death afflicts them. You cannot hear them. You do not understand until it is too late and the Wheel turns again. Remember that you control your own destiny.
The greatest battle will be with yourself, but by believing in what is right you shall succeed. Make of it what you will, Robin i' the Hood."
Herne lifted his hand from his son's shoulder and was gone. Robin watched the mist disappear with him and rose wearily to his feet. What did it all mean? What was he supposed to do? It was another one of Herne's riddles. There had been no visions or dreams to guide him, no path that he could follow. Robin gave a quiet murmur of anger. He may have been chosen by Herne to be his son and do his bidding, but it didn't mean that today he had to like it.
That night, under a starless, black sky, a small group of savage men both dishonoured and possessed, entered the village of Wickham. Their weapons were daggers, staffs, torches, and a burning desire for revenge. They were the wolves who had been separated from their pack. They were lost and left with nothing.
They knew only one craft: killing. Murder would satisfy their gnawing and relentless hunger for blood. They hungered for the blood of innocents: man, woman or child. It didn't matter in the least to them.
The people of Wickham slept, ignorant of the evil that had begun to menace their village. Some dreamed and some had nightmares. Others tossed and turned,
like Edward, who had the fate of his village to fret over.
The past couple of weeks had been hard for all of them. They had suffered much in the fight against Gulnar and Fenris. Some of them had died in this
struggle, leaving women without husbands and children without fathers. They had lost their precious grain. They might have starved when winter came if Robin Hood and the other outlaws hadn't helped them. The villagers and outlaws had fought bravely against Gulnar and Fenris. They had certainly earned the grain they had taken from the dead monks of Grimstone.
There was peace in the village now as people tried to continue with their lives. They were safe at present, for a little while at least. But Edward couldn't help feeling frightened and tense about something. At the back of his mind an unrelenting fear nagged at him, but it was one he didn't understand. Surely the dangers they had faced were over. Still, there was that fear in his mind and
a terror he felt about something...About what?
A torch was struck against one of the straw roofs and orange flames began to greedily engulf a hut. Then there were screams and weapons clashed. More
torches found their way to the village homes. Men and women began to fall, crushed and battered to the ground. Blood spilled as the horror and chaos grew.
People who tried to escape from the savages did...at the cost of their own lives.
Both girls and boys were beaten and small children wept for their mothers and fathers. A hundred voices seemed to cry out against this injustice, but no one heard them. Soon Wickham, like Loxley, was destroyed.
"Robin Hood! Robin Hood!" called a frantic voice. "Robin Hood, where are you?" Little John, with quarter-staff in hand, appeared on the well-worn road that led through Sherwood. He met up with a wide-eyed peasant, who he had seen enough in Elsdon to know by name.
"Stephen, what are you doing here?" asked John in astonishment.
"Little John, I've just been to Wickham to see Edward and, and..." The man shut his eyes and shuddered.
"What is it, lad? What's happened?" demanded John, suddenly feeling his blood run cold.
"I think you had better come...As soon as you can..." John grabbed the villager's arm and they quickly headed for the camp. In a matter of minutes, the outlaws were rushing to Wickham. Then they were staring at the village in horror.
There was nothing left standing. Huts were just dead, black ashes with wisps of smoke rising from the ground. Livestock had been stolen or killed during
the onslaught. The villagers of Wickham lay silent and still.
The outlaws broke out of their stunned trances. They bolted across Wickham to search for anyone who might have survived. Then Robin saw Edward, his wife and son huddled together in a pile. Robin shook as he slowly knelt on the grass beside them and took Edward's cold hand in his.
Anger, pain and anguish welled up inside of him like fire. His mind reeled desperately with a whole array of confused and bewildered thoughts.
Why didn't I see this? Why didn't you tell me, Herne? Why couldn't I understand? I could have stopped this if I had known...If only I had known!
They were innocent. They did nothing to deserve this. I've fought all this time to save them from poverty and injustice and now they're dead. They're
all dead! All dead because I wasn't here to save them. You chose your son wrongly, Herne. I wish you had never laid eyes upon me at all! I wish I had
never become your son.
Robin bent his head and closed his eyes, feeling the scalding tears burn in them. He concentrated fiercely and his mind locked with Herne's.
Herne, Lord of the Trees, I call upon you!
There was a flash of lightening and the forest god was before him.
Guy of Gisburne was led into the courtyard, his hands tied and forced behind his back. He had given up his struggle. He chose instead to meet death as honourably as he could, as a knight and a soldier. He felt many eager eyes upon him, but he didn't flinch as he was made to kneel in front of the block. He didn't look up at the large, dark executioner, with axe wielded in hand. He let
himself be blindfolded and rested his head on the hard stone. He gave no speech and said no words. He didn't even make an attempt to pray. His mind was focused on the man who had brought him here and was about to witness his death.
I'm free of you at last, Sheriff, thought Guy bitterly. I'm free. If only I had had more power, Sheriff. I could have beaten you then. You, and
your position, and money, and men. Oh, but I'll get you, Sheriff...Even if I have to wait until you're in hell to do it.
Gisburne's thoughts ended there, as William Brewer finished pronouncing his sentence of death. There was a terrible silence. Guy almost
felt his heart stop. Then, the axe flew down and the Wheel turned...
* * * *
