Chapter Text
Robin Hood: Return to the End
By: Shadow Chaser
Author’s Notes:
Robin Hood and all of its characters do not belong to me. This story is written for fandom and not for profit. All foreign languages will be in italics. Flashbacks will be completely italicized.
Story:
Epilogue – The King Richard Trilogy
It was several more days before Robin had enough strength to walk around the courtyard several times before needing rest. He was still not fully healed and if Djaq had anything to say about his condition, he would never fully heal. He remembered that it was only an hour or two after he had reunited with Marian that Djaq had entered the tent, the King's tent of all places, and had checked up on his wounds. He had been shocked that he was berthed in the King's tent and had tried to move, but Marian and Djaq had stopped him, saying that the King had moved into the castle instead.
“It is healing well,” Djaq had said as Robin lowered his shirt, leaning back against the hay-stuffed pillow that had been made for him, sitting in bed. Marian sat next to him, a worried look on her face, but nonetheless had stayed quiet during his examination.
“So why am I coughing?” he asked as he breathed out quietly.
“The blade pierced your lung. We were able to cauterize the wound, but the damage...” Djaq trailed off shaking her head, “your cough will get worst as winter progresses.”
“But it will go away during the spring season, right?” Marian asked.
“It should,” there was something in Djaq's tone that Robin knew she was not quite telling the truth.
“It's not going to go completely away, isn't it?” he had a feeling of what Djaq was talking about. “It will linger...”
Djaq bit her lip and nodded solemnly and in that moment Robin knew what was his ultimate fate. He felt his lips twitch up in a saddened smile before reaching out and squeezing the Saracen woman's hands, “Thank you...for your efforts.”
“R-Robin?” Marian looked at him worriedly and he released Djaq's hand before turning to face his love. She deserved to know the truth now; and anything less than that would break her heart.
“How long?” he asked Djaq who furrowed her brow before answering.
“Twelve, maybe fifteen if there aren't too many harsh winters.”
“Ah,” Robin breathed out quietly and took Marian's hands into his own. He had seen too many battlefield wounds and knew what had happened to him. “The cough will linger, Marian, and become worst as the winters progress.”
“Why?”
“Because there has been too much damage to my lungs,” he gestured to the bandages, “Djaq tried her best, but...”
“You would only have twelve, fifteen at the most, years left to live,” she finished for him, her voice just barely a whisper. She was staring down at his wound now, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“They will be good years,” he tried to reassure her, “years that I did not deserve, years that I got because I was too foolish and stubborn to realize that what I needed the most was here, in front of me, instead of running on a fool’s errand for glory and for the King.”
Marian was nodding by now and Robin reached out and pulled her tightly towards him, embracing her fiercely. “I'm sorry, my love. I am so, so very sorry,” he whispered into her hair, his own eyes stinging at the realization that he had such a short time to live.
Robin pulled himself from the memory as he noticed the King walking towards him, the other members of the Private Guard following at a discreet distance. He bowed his head slightly in greeting, unable to kneel down like he usually did because of his leg injury. “Milord, it is good to see that you are well,” he greeted in French and saw a slight approving look on his King's face. He knew that his King must have had a hard time in the past week and half since the conclusion of the battle trying to talk to the surviving nobles, all whom swore immediate fealty to him and renounced both Prince John and the Sheriff.
He had seen Carter flit back and forth between helping repair the castle and standing by the King's side, providing translations as need be. Carter was definitely getting his linguistic skills worked on.
“Come walk with us,” the King gave no outward indication that he was pleased to see Robin up and walking, but the slight way the King had been staring at him told Robin that much. It warmed him a little to know that his King had been worried about his health. With that, he turned and started to walk away, waving a discreet hand towards the ground to signal to the others that he wanted to walk alone.
Robin fell respectfully a step behind his King and to his right; his gait matching the King's a half-step. It was a familiar routine to him as he found himself looking around his surroundings, one ear focused on the sounds around them, the other focused specifically on his King. It was an old habit, to protect him for anyone who may think to assassinate him from where he stood. However, he felt a little odd and could not quite place it until he realized he was used to wearing his bow and arrows, ready to take down any archer or swordsman who charged at his King. Right now, he did not even have a single weapon on him except his fists.
He noticed the slowed pace that the King was going as they walked in silence, passing by several peasants and soldiers working, all who bowed their heads in respect before going back to their work. More than a few called out Robin's name and he grinned in response, but said nothing. If the King wanted to patrol and see what was happening within the castle walls and Nottingham himself, he would not say anything as was his position as the Captain of the King's Private Guard.
Once or twice the King stopped to comment on the repairs to which Robin translated easily, eliciting a multitude of gratitude and bows before moving on. He saw the King stop and talk to Allan and Will, the two of whom had been taking a short break, but had leaped to their feet as soon as they noticed the King approaching them. Allan had winced at the movement to which Robin felt a slight sympathy pang for him, having an arrow speared through his own leg too.
As they meandered their way through the repairs, Robin noticed that they were headed towards the church and from there, where the freshly dug and buried graves were. “We must pay our respects to the fallen,” the King said quietly as he followed and Robin knew that the King was not only doing it for that, but also for Robin's benefit.
He had heard of Tomas' death after Djaq had left and Marian had gone to fetch him some dinner. Carter had come in and after asking him about his health told him what had happened. Robin had also learned that Tomas was not a peasant as he had long thought, but was an exiled, disgraced noble whom the King's father had banished. He had learned that Tomas had bequeathed his lands to him upon his death and was immensely touched by the gesture. Carter had also told him that Leopold V was dead, most likely by Altaїr's hands, and that Prince John was under guard in an encampment outside of Nottingham which the King visited every day for a few hours. The Sheriff, the traitorous Matthew, and Gisborne were languishing in the dungeons, though Gisborne had gotten out of the battle with nothing but a bump on his head. The King had already declared that the three were to hang, having been found guilty of the crimes of high treason against the King.
Robin had bit his lip on hearing the King's judgment against Gisborne, knowing that the King still did not know that it was Gisborne who had tried to kill him in the Holy Lands. He had tried to talk to Marian about it, but she had refused to speak a word regarding Gisborne. Robin certainly knew the man deserved to die for his crimes, but he could not help but feel a bit of pity for his rival.
It was also during Carter's brief visit that he had learned about Bridget's unexpected death and that Rowan was slowly dying from his injuries. As soon as Robin was well enough to walk around a little he had immediately headed to see the young man, whom he knew had a promising future, but had been so ruthlessly cut down by the Sheriff.
“Sir Edward's grave is there,” the King suddenly spoke up, pointing towards a freshly dug grave with a marker that was a little more elaborate than the other simple ones.
“Thank you sire,” Robin bowed his head slightly and moved from the King's side to stand before Edward's grave. He suspected that Marian's father had been buried while he had been unconscious and wished that he had been awake to help Marian through her grief. But what was done was done.
“I will keep your promise, Sir Edward,” he murmured towards the grave, hoping that his words carried all the way up into Heaven, “Marian will be protected and she will be safe.”
Taking one last look at the grave, he moved back to the King's side and saw that he was standing by Tomas' grave, prominent against all of the other simple crosses and stones that lined the area because of the giant Crusader shield that marked the freshly buried dirt. A sad smile flitted across his face as he stared at the blood red cross. He heard a few words of prayer whispered by the King in French before he moved on.
Robin did not say anything to Tomas' grave, knowing that the man would not like to have words spent on him and instead, followed the King as he made his way out of the graveyard and headed back towards the castle itself. It was what Tomas would have wanted as a member of the Private Guard – to follow the King and protect him. No words, no sentiments, the duty and the job were what were most important.
“Captain Carter expressed a wish from the young lad, Rowan, that he wished to meet us,” the King did not enter the castle and instead headed towards the medical tents, “we regret that we have been unable to fulfill this request because of our duties. But now that you are here, Captain, we believe that this would be beneficial.”
“Uh, thank you, Your Majesty,” Robin had almost forgotten that Rowan had wanted to meet the King and was puzzled as to how Carter knew about it before he realized someone probably told him about Rowan's request, perhaps Terence or George.
“It is of no consequence,” the King waved away his thanks as he entered the tent and Robin followed after him, his good mood nearly evaporating at what he saw.
Rowan was deathly pale, and only the shallowest rise and fall of his bare chest told him that he was still clinging to life. He realized that it was not long now, that the once strong, hardy young man would pass from this life and into the next.
“Bridget...?” Rowan's faint voice whispered as he cracked open his eyes.
“It is I, Rowan,” Robin stepped forward and grasped the young man's limp cold hands, “I brought a visitor...”
“Oh...” the young man huffed faintly. Carter had told him that no one had the heart to tell Rowan that his beloved Bridget had died and Robin was not about to spoil that illusion. They would meet in the next life, he told himself.
“You are Rowan?” the King rumbled next to Robin in his heavily accented English and he stepped away, allowing the King to hold the young man's hand.
“M-Milord...!” Rowan tried to get up, but was unable to, “I...”
“You...have fought bravely,” the King said slowly, “you have fought...well.”
“...Thank you...Your Grace,” Rowan whispered, his pale sunken eyes bright, “your words are too kind.” Robin murmured a quiet translation to the King for the latter half of the young man's words.
“You have served...squired for Lady Marian, yes?” the King nodded his head, “this is also well.”
A faint color appeared on Rowan's cheeks before he tried to smile but failed as his energy left him. Robin saw Rowan try to stay awake, but in the end his eyes closed as he fell back into unconsciousness. He saw the King look at the young man for a long second before releasing his hand and placing it gently back on the palate and got up.
“Young men like him do not deserve the terrible hand of death,” the King murmured in French and left the tent, Robin following behind him. He would later learn that Rowan died later that night, a quiet, painless death. He saw the King head back towards the castle and he followed, knowing that the King had not dismissed him yet.
The King paused on the steps up to the castle before turning and staring out at the construction work. Robin stood a respectful half-step behind him and waited. “We recognize the dangers that you have warned us about and are prepared to take steps to prevent such happenings again.” The King paused for a moment before glancing down at him, “You are ready to do your duty?”
“As my King commands,” Robin felt a little apprehensive at the words, but there were no other words he could say. He had hoped that the King would release him from his service so that he could go back to Locksley to live out the rest of his days with Marian as his wife. But the King seemed like he was hinting that he required Robin's service once more, perhaps to journey with him to Normandy France.
“Good,” the King nodded once, “you will be our eyes and our ears. You will be the word that speaks from our mouth.” The King smiled a little, “Your service as Captain of the Private Guard has been concluded. Your new service as the Sheriff of Nottingham begins now until we say no more or death takes you. Your titles, lands, and all that was once were have been restored. Robin Hood died fighting for King Richard and for freedom, Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington, has returned from the Holy Lands with full honors.” He drew out a sealed parchment from his robes and handed it to Robin, “We have already announced it to the other shires and decreed it in London.”
Robin broke the seal and read over the decree before rolling it back up and tried to say something, but no words came out. He could not believe that the King was this generous in not only allowing him to stay in Nottingham, but releasing him from his service in such a way that he would serve in another capacity. He immediately dropped to his knees, ignoring the flash of pain that shot through his injured leg. “Your Majesty...”
“Rise, Lord Locksley,” the King commanded and Robin stood up, suppressing the wince as his leg protested his movements. “Do not be so thankful of our gift just yet. We have your first command.”
“Milord?” he looked up at the King and saw that the smile was replaced with a slight frown.
“You will preside over the execution of the traitors Vaysey, Matthew, and Guy of Gisborne tomorrow,” the King said and Robin nodded solemnly.
“As you wish,” he bowed his head a little. It was ironic really, in a twisted sense. He had returned from the Holy Lands months ago and regained his title and lands only to preside over the execution of four of his villagers. Now the King said he was an outlaw no more, regaining his title and lands only to preside over yet another execution. But this was the King's command, and one he could not and would not refuse.
* * *
Sleep did not come easy for Robin during the night. He had no qualms about sending Vaysey and Matthew to their deaths, after all, they certainly deserved it, but rather, he was having second thoughts about the very man that had tried to kill him in the Holy Lands, Guy of Gisborne. He knew that it should have been easy, executing the man that had nearly killed him, had nearly killed the King. But what bothered him the most was not because Gisborne was unrepentant, but because of Marian. He knew he should not blame her for his doubts, but the fact that she had refused to even speak a word and if rumors were correct, not even visit Gisborne once in the dungeons, bothered him. He was aware of Marian's lingering feelings for the man, and had been, was still, jealous of them, so one would think it would be easy to execute his rival.
Yet the fact that he had tried to reach out to Gisborne and had seen the man's reluctance in participating in what had happened before he had lost himself told Robin that Gisborne was a man not to be hated, but pitied. So would not it be easier to put a man whom he pitied down, like a suffering dog, than to let him live? There was nothing he could do anyways, he could not let Gisborne live, it was his King's decree that Gisborne should die. As Robin settled himself to sleep an uneasy sleep in his palate, still within the King's tent, he felt himself plagued by the dreams that had always haunted him, the dreams of the Holy Lands.
Robin woke up a few hours later with Much shaking his shoulder gently. Much bustled around, helping him as he got dressed and ate a quick breakfast before reaching out to strap his Saracen sword to his side.
“Robin...?” Much asked, a little confused as Robin eased his pack of arrows to his back and picked up his recurved bow, shouldering it across himself. He felt a twinge of pain as the strap of the arrow pack pressed against his chest wound, but resolutely ignored it.
“I may be the new Sheriff, but I'm still Robin Hood. The people should know that,” he waved away Much's offer of wearing the fur skins that denoted his nobility status. “And thank you, Much, for helping me.”
“It was no trouble,” Much blushed a little, “just figured...you know...”
“Come on, old friend,” he slapped him on the back as he stepped out of the tent, the two of them walking as fast as Robin allowed himself to move with his injured leg towards the castle where the King awaited them. He did not know if Much had worried over him while he had been grievously injured, but judging by the relieved look his best friend wore, perhaps it was a sign of maturity that Much had not panicked. If it was so, then Much was a much better man than he was.
It was a slight effort on Robin's part and patience on Much's part that they slowly ascended the stairs and finally entered the castle. Robin absently wiped the sweat that was on his brow away from his exertion, ignoring the light pain in his leg. Djaq had said it would take time for him to heal and he should not push himself too hard or else he would never heal. Ollie had directed them to the Great Hall where the King was taking his meal and the two of them entered after being allowed through. The youngest member of the Private Guard had grinned at the sight of him wearing his usual armaments.
“Sheriff Locksley,” the King greeted and it took a moment for Robin to process his new title and name, too used to Robin Hood ever since his return from the Holy Lands.
“Your Grace,” Robin bowed a little. He was a little surprised to see Prince John standing behind the King with a pitcher of what was probably wine in his hands, waiting to serve his brother. The Prince did not meet his gaze and instead stared at a point above where Robin's head was. However, this did not stop Robin from grinning a little crookedly at the Prince's humiliating position. The other two members of the Private Guard, Harry and Daniel were standing by the corners while Carter stood like a sentinel on the King's opposite side.
“You may give your report,” the King waved an absent hand at him and Robin nodded once.
“Everything has been arranged and the prisoners are being brought out at once,” he had given his orders the night before regarding the hanging and when the prisoners were to be brought out. He had also sent town criers across the shire with the announcement and time of the executions, per his King's orders. “The populace should be gathering by now.”
“Very well,” the King wiped his mouth before standing up and looking at him. Robin was a little pleased to see that his appearance had startled the King before a small nod told him that the King approved of his discarding of the nobility furs and instead wore the armaments that were familiar to him. It was a new Sheriff that oversaw Nottinghamshire, not an old one who wore furs and riches of his title and position.
Together they all headed outside and Robin saw Marian, Little John, Will, Alllan, and Djaq waiting near the foot of the steps leading down to the gallows that had been half destroyed during the battle, but steadily repaired. Altaїr along with the three members of the Hashashin that had accompanied him were standing by the side near next to Marian, a seemingly mild expression on his face. The rest of the peasantry had gathered around, some of the murmuring, others quiet with anticipation. Vaysey, Matthew, and Gisborne were waiting by the gallows, each of them gagged and bound, but no hood placed over their eyes.
Belatedly Robin realized that had forgotten his parchment with the decree before Much coughed lightly and handed him the parchment from the folds of his own clothes. “Thanks,” he muttered as he saw the King settle himself near him, Prince John standing a few steps above, deigned to watch over the execution of his minions, while Carter, Ollie, Harry, and Daniel stood around the King in a slightly loose perimeter.
Robin took a few steps down and felt all eyes upon him as he unrolled the parchment and held it aloft. “We are gathered here on the twentieth of November in the year of our lord eleven-ninety-two to witness the execution of these persons for the crime of high treason against His Majesty King Richard of England and the Norman Lands, Count of Anjou, Duke of Normandy, Count of Maine, and Duke of Aquitaine. The evidence has been presented and we have come to the conclusion that death shall be the punishment.
“Such persons as follows, Matthew of Knighton,” Robin looked up and stared straight into the man's eyes and saw him look away, “Sir Guy of Gisborne.” Gisborne did not even meet his gaze and instead stared beyond him. “Vaysey, former Sheriff of Nottingham,” Robin saw Vaysey purse his lips, flexing his wounded but bandaged hand before his lips curled in disgust.
Robin rolled up the parchment once more and nodded to the executioner as he walked the three up to the gallows and started to put the hoods and ropes around their necks. There were so many other crimes that Robin knew he could have announced and written out, but he felt that the greatest of them all was treason against the King and it was enough that they should be known for that. He did not need to tarnish their names anymore with their other crimes, though the populace knew of it. The other shires could only speculate and he was content to let them speculate.
“May the souls of these men find peace in Heaven,” the echo of those haunting words that Vaysey had spoken to him so many months ago was not lost on Robin as he repeated them. He managed not to flinch as the executioner pulled on the ropes, flinging the stools back and letting three dangle from the hangman's noose.
The crowd's whispers rose into a murmur, but no one cried out like last time. Yet he could shake the disquiet feeling that somehow, it was wrong. Yes the Sheriff deserved to be executed, yes Matthew deserved to die, but as he stared at Gisborne's dangling form, the man's head hidden behind the hood, he could not help but feel a little pity, even for the man who was dying in front of him.
Robin flicked a quick glance at Marian and saw that she was staring resolutely at the hanging people. However, upon closer inspection, he saw what looked like a small streak of a single tear work its way down her face before she hastily wiped it away. That was what sealed his decision and Robin inwardly shook his head. For what he was about to do...he hoped and prayed to God that it would work while cursing himself for being foolish.
“Master...what are you...”
Robin ignored Much and the surprise murmurs that started up as he unshouldered his bow and drew one of his arrows, managing not to let the sharp shooting pain of his still healing chest wound bother him as he drew the arrow and sighted down his bow. He could feel himself shaking with the effort and exertion, knowing that he was in no position to even draw a bow that tight or to even fire it. His accuracy could be marred by his injury, his chest screaming in pain now as he willed himself to be steady.
Ignoring the outward looks of surprise and gasps of surprise around him Robin concentrated and let go of his arrow, watching it fly true and snap off the rope that hung around Gisborne's neck. The man toppled to the ground and Robin drew in a deep breath, coughing once, before descending the stairs slowly. As he drew closer to the gallows, he could hear the faint last gasps of breath from Vaysey and Matthew, and ignored them. Those two deserved their deaths, and he knew that his actions could have cost him his King's favor, even if he wanted to shoot down Vaysey and Matthew.
He climbed to the gallows and knelt down next to Gisborne's squirming form, loosening the noose and pulling off the hood, exposing a very red face. Gisborne squinted a little from the bright early sunlight before recognizing who knelt above him and instinctively froze in fear.
“You will kneel,” Robin heard himself say harshly, not because he wanted to, but because of his overexertion, “and swear undying fealty to the King. You will do this and become my steward. Or so help me God; I will kill you right now.” He knew his words were heard in the deathly silence of the courtyard as everyone wondered what he was going to do.
Gisborne did not hesitate to agree with a vigorous nod before Robin hauled him up, his own wounds protesting at his movements and marched the man down the stairs and up towards the King. “Swear it,” he growled out, forcing Gisborne to kneel before the King.
“I swear upon the names of my forefathers and my own that I will serve you, King Richard, until the breath of life leaves me or dismissal from your service,” Gisborne gasped out, still trying to recover from his own near death experience.
Robin looked up at the King who met his gaze evenly, trying hard not to let the slight black spots that were appearing before his eyes show in his expression. The Lion of England nodded his approval and held out his hand with his signet ring. Gisborne immediately took it and kissed it before releasing the King's hand. The man that he had initially felt disgust, anger, and hate for only to feel pity, sorrow at the manipulation he had gone through was now sworn to him and to the King. He trusted that Gisborne's wish to live instead of die then and there was greater and the fact that Gisborne would know that it was he, Robin, who had saved him from death by the King's decree, would always be forever loyal to him. It was humiliating in a way, but also shrewd and calculating in another.
“Disperse the crowd, and see to it that Vaysey and Matthew get proper burials,” he ordered Gisborne as the black spots became a little more frequent before continuing up the stairs and headed back into the castle. “By your leave, Your Majesty,” he managed to get out as he shut the castle doors behind him. He needed to get away from the public eye before those black spots became even larger. The populace did not need to know that he had come very close to passing out in front of them.
Robin staggered to the side, his hand pressed against the pulsating pain in his chest and coughed, wracking his body with even more pain. His other hand tightened the grip he had on his bow. He felt himself stumble and fall to the ground before managing to push himself against the wall and into a sitting position. Breathing heavily through his mouth, he could feel the rivets of sweat dripping down his back and sides of his head and leaned against the cool stonework. A slightly bitter laugh escaped from his mouth as he closed his eyes and rested for a moment.
He should not have done that, but his good conscience told him that Gisborne could be saved and so he had foolishly listened to it at the expense of his own ailing body. The distant murmur of voices made Robin open his eyes again to see three pairs of eyes looking worriedly down at him.
“You...you,” Marian looked angry, “why did you do that?!”
“You should not have done that, Robin. Your body can't handle the draw weight of a bow right now-”
“You gave everyone who knew you a panic out there!” Much cut Djaq off, wringing his hands together.
“I'm fine,” Robin replied automatically before pushing himself off the wall and was unable to keep the wince of pain from appearing on his face, “I just needed to rest.”
“Yes you do,” Djaq piped up before helping him up with Much at his side. “You need to let your body heal. Drawing your bow, fighting with swords, you will rip out your stitching and undo the efforts we have tried to use to heal you!”
“I'm sorry,” Robin was contrite, seeing Djaq's angry, yet pinched expression. He knew how much she had put into healing him where as he could have died from his wounds; he should have died, and he had thrown it all away just to satisfy his good conscience.
She shook her head, “If I ever see you do such a foolish thing again...before you are ready.”
“I won't,” he promised, allowing them to help him to the kitchens and from there discreetly back to his tent where he could sleep for the rest of the day. It took a little while until Robin was back in his tent and as Djaq and Much left him, leaving Marian to fuss over him, he saw her smile a little. “Thank you...Robin,” she said before she left and Robin knew that she was thanking him for sparing Gisborne's life.
As Robin fell asleep once more, he knew that he had made the right choice. Gisborne was a man to be pitied, not to be hated, and perhaps now, he would be able to make the right choices in his life.
* * *
It was early December when the King announced that he was returning to London for the winter before returning to his lands in France once the winter gales had passed in early spring. One of the King's last act before he left was to preside over Robin's marriage to Marian to which the King had insisted upon doing – much to Robin’s embarrassment. And so the two of them were married and the King left a few days later, wishing the newly wedded couple good fortune and the blessing of his Majesty's grace. Along with him were the three remaining members of the Private Guard to whom Robin had heartfelt goodbyes, and Prince John and whatever was left of his own guardsmen. Though the King and Robin would correspond in the years that followed, they would never meet again. The King died in 1199 during a campaign against one of the French nobles’ lands.
Most of Vaysey's former guards had pledged loyalty and fealty to Robin and things were getting back to normal in Nottinghamshire as patrols resumed and the reconstruction of the castle continued.
Robin allowed his gang to stay in the castle as they had no where else to stay and had caught Djaq once chasing Will and Allan out of the bathhouse area. It was Little John who managed to restrain the two and allowed Djaq to thoroughly dress them down. Robin also invited Altaїr and his fellow assassins to stay in the castle to which the master assassin agreed, but said that he would be sending his apprentices back to Venice before the winter gales were in full force. It was the first time since the battle ended that he had a chance to have a private conversation with the master assassin, but not much was said. The three assassins whom Robin had never learned the names of had left soon after, one carrying an ornate staff that was wrapped up in cloth. Robin recognized the object as the Piece of Eden that Leopold had wielded and knew that it was safer in the hands of the Hashashin than anywhere else.
Carter had also stayed behind, claiming that he was going to visit some of his lands in England before rejoining the King's court in the spring. But Robin knew better and knew that the King had left Carter to make sure that his daily health was monitored and reported to the King. He suspected it was also the same with Altaїr, his friend staying to make sure his health was improving, but did not say a thing; both out of pride and out of the friendship he had with the master assassin.
He knew that the two of his friends stayed not only for his recovering health but also wary for any assassins that Prince John may have sent after arriving back in London and reappointed as steward of the English lands when the King left for France. But he knew that the Prince would make no such move against him while the King was still alive and most certainly not right after his failed attempt to take his brother's lands. Assassin would be sent in due time, but there were a few years before that would happen, he knew that much.
It was a week since the three Hashashin left and Robin had finished with the latest audience with the nobles who had presented their grievances. Knighton was slowly being rebuilt. Locksley and all of the other villages terrorized by Prince John's soldiers had their debts paid out of the large coffers that Robin had not known existed in the castle. A part of him still wondered how he could have missed that much gold when he had been in and out of Nottingham castle so much during his days as Robin Hood. But now the money was being put to good use and the first official market day a couple of weeks ago had been a rousing success. He had put Gisborne in charge of making sure the populace knew that a new Sheriff was in charge and that he was a fair Sheriff. The results were a little more than entertaining in Robin's opinion, forcing Gisborne to be civil and the peasants bewildered by the fact that it was Guy of Gisborne, of all people, being civil.
He sat contently in the Great Hall, washed of all blood and any signs of the slaughter that had occurred there weeks ago, Carter leaning against the wall near the fireplace. His presence during the Nobles' Council was to reinforce the fact that Robin was hand-picked by the King to be the Sheriff of Nottingham. Surprisingly, Altaїr had appeared, standing near the shadows during the meeting, observing things with a keen eye. Robin wondered if his friend was gathering information to perhaps affect a change within the Hashashin itself when he eventually returned.
With the Council dismissed, it was only the three of them and Altaїr had emerged from the shadows, taking a seat by the table that Robin sat at, the three of them in companionable silence as Robin looked over the latest reports that had been given to him. An idea occurred to Robin as he felt the corner of his lips quirk up. His friend was the nominal leader of the Masyaf Hashashin so...
“Hey Altaїr?”
The assassin was silent and Robin knew that he had seen the crooked smile. He could practically feel the wariness that the man exuded, wondering what was to be asked of him.
“This parchment of-”
“No,” was the flattest and quickest answer that Robin had received before he started to laugh, burying his head into the parchments. He coughed slightly, rubbing his chest a little before shaking his head and looking over to the assassin whose eyes glittered with a little mirth and consternation behind his hood.
“The wisest answer yet,” Carter muttered and Robin was about to reply before the door opened and Much stuck his head in.
“Robin, err, Sheriff, there's a woman here...”
Robin blinked in puzzlement, “And...?”
“Well, she claims that she knows Altaїr's here and...”
Robin glanced over to his friend who had stood up, his normally stoic expression morphed into confusion.
“Who is this woman? No one save for the Rafiq of the Venice bureau knows that I am here,” Altaїr growled out before Much sudden was pushed to the side as the woman in question stomped in, her hair neatly tied up in a fashion that Robin recognized from the Hashashin order. She was pretty in an odd sort of way, and somewhat familiar. Robin swore he had seen her before, but could not place where or who she was.
“...You,” Carter's jaw dropped as the woman promptly marched up to them, holding a small bundle before dumping said bundle into Altaїr's hands and stepped back.
“You may take care of him for the next three months as I visit my family's lands,” she said imperiously and Robin glanced over to see the most peculiar expression on his friend's face – bewilderment.
Altaїr's jaw worked for a second before the woman cut in again, directing another imperious look at him. “Is this how you greet me after so many months of separation even when I was carrying your child, husband?”
“Husband?!” Carter echoed and Robin felt his jaw drop open in shock. This woman, who talked so imperiously towards Altaїr and not lose her tongue or even her life was Altaїr's wife?!
“Salaam, Maria,” Altaїr finally spoke and the woman's gaze softened before she grinned impishly, showing everyone that she had only adopted the imperious tone and look to throw him off. “Who is this?”
“Your son,” the woman smiled as Altaїr looked down at the bundle in his hands, “or did you forget that you left me six months pregnant to hunt down that Piece of Eden in England?”
“You...have a son,” Carter said and Maria turned to face them.
“Ah, Lord Tulane,” she bowed her head slightly; “I trust that you remember me?”
“Yes...I am surprised...”
“Are you now,” Maria's eyes flashed dangerously before she turned to Robin, “and Captain Locksley, or should I say Sheriff now. Congratulations on your promotion.”
It was then that Robin remembered who she was – Robert de Sable's former steward and a Templar to boot. The last time he remembered seeing her was when he had been investigating Garnier de Napoluse's death in Acre. What had happened that she ended up marrying Altaїr of all people and having his child too? “I see that you are well from your injuries...”
“Err...yes,” Robin had a feeling that she was not talking about the most recent battle, but decided to humor her.
“Well then, I shall leave him in your care Altaїr,” Maria turned and headed towards Much, “Much if you could be so kind as to show me where my husband's rooms are...” The door shut behind them leaving the three men in the Great Hall alone once more.
A faint gurgle of noise brought Robin's gaze to see Altaїr still clutching his son, a little more than bewildered, but nonetheless seemingly warming to the idea of holding a child, his child, in his arms. The baby cooed again and Robin had to smile at the softening of the very stoic and serious assassin's demeanor as he gently prodded the swath of blankets eliciting another gurgle of contentment.
Suddenly Altaїr held the baby away from him and shook his head. “The knives are not for you little one,” he said in Arabic, but the baby, apparently not used to the harshness of Altaїr's voice started to wail. Altaїr brought it back close to him and looked up at the two of them, pleading silently for them to help him.
Robin could only helplessly shake his head, “The last time I tried to calm a baby down, one of my men tried to kill me.”
“Don't look at me,” Carter added and Robin could hear his attempt to keep his laughter at bay.
“You men and babies,” Marian suddenly spoke up from the top entrance to the Great Hall and descended the stairs quickly before scooping the crying baby out of Altaїr's hands. She started to make shushing noises and bounced it around before it finally stopped crying. “I will take care of him since none of you can even know how to take care of yourselves!” she looked pointedly at them before ascending the stairs and leaving them alone once more.
Robin could only hope that the day he became a father, he would at least know how to not make a baby cry.
* * *
The winter months passed and though Robin felt himself mending, Djaq's diagnosis was correct that his cough lingered well into the early spring. In the months of winter, Carter had been true to his word and had left for a short while to visit his family's lands, escorting Maria to her own family's lands before the two returned a month and half later. It was during that time that Robin had learned that Maria's family was subservient to Carter's and that the two had grown up with each other. He had been a little worried that Carter was traveling with a married woman, but Altaїr had not seemed worried so he left the matter at that.
As the snow melted and the rains of early spring started to pour, Robin also noticed that most of his gang seemed a little restless. They had all been pardoned by the King before he had left and while the winter months did not allow for too much travel, he knew that Will had been going back and forth to Scarborough to visit his father and younger brother. Djaq occasionally traveled with him, the two of them betrothed in the most unexpected way.
It had been during a dinner with his friends that Will had suddenly asked Djaq to marry him, much to her delight and embarrassment at such a public display of affection. She had accepted and had asked what she should prepare for a wedding, but Will had surprised her and surprised all of them by saying that he wanted to meet her family in the Holy Lands before getting married with their approval. Djaq had been shocked speechless at the gesture and Will had said that they would travel with Altaїr and Maria when they decided to return to Masyaf.
But it was Little John who was the first of his gang to leave them, once the snow melted in the major roads through Sherwood. Robin had seen the big woodsman looking for a sturdy horse and buying foodstuffs for a journey in the past few days. So when the knock occurred as he was reading the latest reports and Little John had entered the Great Hall, Robin was not surprised to see the big man looking a little more than apprehensive.
“You don't need my permission to leave, Little John,” Robin grinned as he pushed the pile of parchments aside. Carter and Altaїr were not in the Great Hall today during the Council meeting, the former of the two having gone with Gisborne to observe the villages in the shire before composing his latest report to the King. Altaїr was more than likely with Maria and his child.
“I know,” the big woodman looked a little uncomfortable, but drew himself up, “but you deserve the courtesy. I've been...a little cooped up lately.” He gestured vaguely to the Great Hall, “Too big for me. I think I preferred Locksley village anyways.”
“You're going to find Alice and Little Little John?” Robin asked, standing up and rounding the large table to face the woodsman.
“I...received word that Luke the Cooper died sometime during the winter. I was going to call on Alice to return here, but perhaps it would be best that we start anew in a different area,” Little John shrugged, “no offense.”
“None taken,” Robin knew that the place held too many memories, good and bad for John, especially since he had been an outlaw a lot longer than he had been as Robin Hood. He also knew that the castle would be the biggest reminder of the fact that it was here that Forrest died. “Well then,” he reached out and clasped the man's large hands and shook it firmly, “best of luck to you, John. You are always welcomed back here, you, Alice, and your son. Locksley village is always willing to have you as one of their own.”
The large man nodded solemnly, “I was wrong, you know, about you. You gave me something to live for and I cannot thank you enough. Thank you and congratulations. I hope the child born to you and Marian will be in full health and life.”
Robin had to smile at that. It was only a month ago that he had learned that Marian was pregnant, perhaps for over a little two months now, which meant that by this coming fall in the year of 1193, he was going to be a father. He released Little John's hand and the big man walked out of the Great Hall and out of Robin's life forever. He would hear rumors of a giant of a man who was as gentle as a lamb over the next few years, but he never saw Little John again.
* * *
The next to leave was unsurprisingly Allan-a-Dale. It was a couple of days after Little John had left that a cart being two passengers, a friar named Tuck and a woman who declined to name herself, but said that they were from the abbey at Rufford arrived in Nottingham. The two had been admitted and while Tuck was talking to Robin about the good fortunes of the churches of the shire the woman waited. She had only asked to see Allan-a-Dale and the man arrived with Gisborne escorting him, claiming that Allan had been in the taverns swindling people. Robin ignored that part, knowing that Allan was doing what he knew best to survive, even though he was not an outlaw anymore.
Marian had arrived during that time and stood by Robin's side, a mysterious smile on her face that spoke volumes as if she knew a secret he did not. After dismissing Gisborne, Friar Tuck had quieted and stepped to the side, also grinning like Marian.
“You wanted to see me?” Allan asked before Robin shook his head and pointed to the woman who still had the hood of her cloak pulled over her head the whole time.
“Hello Allan,” the mysterious woman greeted and Robin was overcome with a sense of deja vu as he recognized the voice. It was inflected English that was present in most of the higher nobility in the lands, Robin himself occasionally prone to fall into the same accent when he was presiding over the Nobles' Council.
He shot a glance at Marian as the woman lowered her hood, and his wife's smile only grew wider. Robin looked back to see that it was indeed Anna of Rochdale standing before them. However, a part of her face was heavily scarred, from the fire no doubt that she had tried to commit suicide in during the Summer Solstice Tournament months ago. But she still looked the same, still held the same air that she carried herself in.
“A-Anna...” Allan staggered a little, blindly grabbing onto the edge of the table as he steadied himself, “my God, but...” The con man and thief looked towards Marian who stepped forward.
“I saved her from the fire when all of you were fleeing from Nottingham,” Marian started quietly as Anna nodded her agreement, “and would have told you if not for Anna's request that she be allowed to recuperate and think over her actions. She asked that she'd be sent to a nunnery to be forgiven for her actions. We have been corresponding with each other for the past few months and it was only recently after I had told her of what happened here with the King, she had decided it was time for her to make her presence known.”
“But...”
“It was a hard decision for me,” Anna interrupted Allan gently and Robin could see that while she still held herself up like any noble, there was a sense of humbleness that was not there the first time he had met her. Perhaps she did change. “I had thought you to move on, to live your life and I did not want to interrupt that new life by coming back. But Lady Marian convinced me and had even petitioned the King for a pardon of my family and restoration of my titles in Rochdale.”
“When did you-” Robin did not remember sealing any documents to be sent to the King that had mention of the petition.
“I sent it by Carter's weekly reports. He was kind enough to let me do so without your knowledge,” Marian whispered back and Robin had to shake his head in minor exasperation. His wife had thought him to still harbor a grudge against Anna for her role in the whole fiasco. In a way he had for a while, but after seeing her like this, the grudge had disappeared just as quickly. “It was also a surprise.”
“I can see that,” Robin grinned, “a very nice surprise, but...”
“I know, it's all up to Allan,” Marian whispered back before the two of them looked to see Allan still standing agog and gaping at Anna.
“Friar Tuck will be seeing me to Rochdale when I leave tomorrow. I was hoping, wondering that perhaps you would join me? The King's pardon has also forgiven you and absolved you of all crimes that occurred there. For you...and for Tom too, posthumously,” Anna had a hopeful, but guarded look on her face.
“I...uh,” Robin could see that the thief looked terribly conflicted and did not envy him, “I...uh...I need to think.” With that he suddenly bolted from the room, not even bothering to close the door behind him.
Anna's face fell a little before she smiled sadly at Marian, “I tried...I knew he would be like this. I'll...I'll leave now.”
“No wait, please,” Marian stepped forward, clutching her hand, “stay, we would love to have dinner with you and Friar Tuck.”
“A-All right,” the curly-haired woman reluctantly agreed.
It was a few hours later, after dinner had been served and all but everyone had gone to bed while Robin walked along the halls, sleep elusive this night. The pains of his wounds had been replaced by occasional aches that heralded a storm or passing rain shower. He had taken to walking on more than one occasion to soothe those aches and this was one of those nights. It was probably going to rain soon, he supposed, yet another early March rain that was not quite warm, but still too cold.
He was walking along the hallway that gave a view to the courtyard and paused as the moonlight cast a shadow upon the courtyard, illuminating someone sitting on what was once the gallows now a platform for sellers to hawk their wares. Squinting, he noticed that the figure was Allan and headed towards him, pulling his fur-lined vest closer to him to keep himself warm in the chill of the night.
“Allan?” he called out in a quiet greeting.
“Oh, I was hoping it would be you,” the resident thief looked up, swinging his legs a bit and hopped down. “I...”
Robin smiled a little, “You're leaving with Anna, aren't you?”
Allan grinned, still sheepish, “Don't mean to be funny, but yeah.”
“I'm happy for you,” Robin clapped the man on the shoulder, “you deserve this.”
“Thanks,” the other man scratched the back of his head and looked a little away, “Listen mate, if you ever need anything, you know, someone to pickpocket, steal-”
“Lie, say that my wife just had a baby-”
“-you're going to have a baby. I can't use that excuse anymore!”
“True,” Robin laughed, “I'm sure you're clever enough to think of another one, but yes, if I ever need you, I will send you a message.”
“I mean, I'll stop by from time to time, you know, rough up the crowd a little, give Gisborne a few more white hairs – I can't believe he's actually civil – make sure your baby becomes the best thief in all of the shire...”
“Marian will probably murder you in your sleep as the Nightwatchman,” Robin interjected with a crooked smile.
“Good point,” Allan trailed off as the two stared at each other in amiable silence. It lasted for a few seconds before Allan held out his hand and Robin took it, shaking it with a smile on his face.
“Well then...”
“Well then...” Robin echoed before pulling the other man into a fierce back slapping embrace and releasing him, “I'd better not catch you killing any more of the King's bucks.”
“Oh I've learned my lesson,” Allan grinned before walking away, “it was good while it lasted Robin!”
Robin raised his hand in a farewell as Allan left the castle, headed towards the inn that Anna and Friar Tuck had booked for the night, knowing that they were leaving in the early morning hours before the sun was to come up. He wished the best for Allan-a-Dale, a man redeemed.
And so that was how Allan left Nottingham, returning on occasion to visit Robin and Marian but living happily in Rochdale, finally free from the demons that had plagued him for so long.
* * *
Two weeks later Carter announced that he was headed to London to join the King's retinue as they traveled back to France, having been summoned. It was something that Robin had been expecting since the winter thaw had begun and the spring rains had come. He had thought his friend to leave on his own, but was surprised to see that it had taken the King's personal summons to return Carter to his side. The announcement was also unexpected, coming just as Robin had finished inspecting the completed repairs to Nottingham castle. Carter had met him as he ascended the steps back into the castle, dressed in full armor and weaponry, holding a parchment with the King's seal broken and had unceremoniously handed it to him.
“I leave at this moment,” his blond-haired friend shrugged with a feigned indifference, but Robin could see through the bald-faced lie. It seemed that Carter had delayed his departure until the last possible minute and had not told him until just as he was about to leave.
“I'll bring word to the King that repairs have been completed at the castle,” his friend was all businesslike and Robin rolled his eyes and shook his head at the posturing, but humored him.
“Then I expect that your report would be fully detailed as to the happenings of the shire and the recovery of one of England's most profitable trade routes,” he managed to fight off the grin for a moment before the two of them collapsed into fits of laughter, startling some of the guards standing outside of the castle.
As Robin managed to get his laughter under control, occasioned by a few coughs that sent tweaks of pain through his right chest, he shook his head and held out his hand to which Carter shook firmly, glove and all. Nothing else was said before the jangle of a horse in full mail bearing the mark of the Knight Templars and Crusaders made the two of them turn to see Much bringing the steed around.
“Ah, thank you Much, you were definitely better than Jordan,” Carter said as he mounted the steed and stared down at him. “I hope that you are still alive the next time I pay a visit.”
“I hope that I'm not,” Much groused before stepping away. Robin shook his head a little, he would never understand why Much disliked Carter nor would he understand why Carter kept needling Much.
“Lady Marian,” Carter nodded his head over Robin's shoulder and Robin turned to see Marian descending the stairs, a surprised look on her face as she had too not known about Carter's abrupt departure.
“Assassin,” he continued and Robin looked to see Altaїr standing in the shadows with Maria and his child.
“Templar,” was all Altaїr said before Carter turned his gaze back to Robin.
“May good fortune smile upon you, Robin Locksley,” his friend said quietly.
“And to you, Carter Tulane,” Robin replied before he saw Carter wheel his horse around and galloped out of the castle courtyard and out of Nottingham.
In the years before the King's untimely demise, the Templar would occasionally visit while he was in England, most likely spying for the King, but once the King died, Robin did not see him anymore and had heard rumors that Carter had fallen out of favor with former Prince, now King John's regime and had retired to his lands in Tulane. His lands in England had been seized in absentia for one of John's lackeys. But that was the fate of any man who was a confidante and spy of the previous ruler.
* * *
Spring was now in full bloom and it was late April when Robin was approached by Altaїr as he was practicing with his bow and arrow. Djaq had only recently allowed him to draw the full weight of his bow and arrow and had allowed him to spar and get himself back into fighting trim. His cough was all but gone, but Robin knew that it was to return as the weather turned cold again. But for now, he relished the ease of which his breathing had been the weight and solid thunk of his arrow finding its uncannily accurate mark.
It had taken him a long while to recover his full strength, and Djaq had said it was due to not only his injuries sustained in the battle, but because of his imprisonment, torture, and lack of food. His body was trying to recover, but it had no energy to do so and so slowly, little by little, healed itself throughout the winter.
“Catch,” was the command in Arabic and Robin turn and spun, dropping his bow as he grabbed his own curved Saracen sword out of the thrown at him. He caught his blade and flourished it once before suppressing a smile at the sight of his friend holding his own slightly longer and little curved blade.
“I take it you will be leaving come tomorrow?” he asked as he stepped into his familiar stance. He was not too surprised that Altaїr wanted to spar in using the whole of the courtyard. He saw some concern on the guards’ faces, but waved an absent hand at them to relax them. They had seen Altaїr in and out of the place enough times to know that he meant no harm, but he still appreciated the guards' dedication.
“Will Scarlett and Djaq will be leaving with us,” Altaїr said as Robin discarded his arrow pack, kicking it next to his dropped bow. He felt confident enough of his abilities even though this was the first time since that fateful battle that he had wielded his familiar blade. They circled around each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.
“I too would be anxious to leave after leaving Malik in charge of what, a little over a year?” Robin taunted with a grin on his face to show that he meant no malice in his words, but Altaїr reacted anyways with a challenging glint in his eye and launched the first attack.
It was a wide swipe that Robin easily dodged, but had to parry with his blade as the swipe instantly became an upward cut. Their blades clanged loudly in the courtyard, echoing off the rebuilt stone walls. He pushed against the stalemate, before breaking it and shuffled a half step forward, lunging with his own. Altaїr stepped to the side and stabbed at his head to which Robin narrowly avoided and rolled to the ground, coming up into a crouch.
Launching himself at the master assassin he attacked in a flurry, feeling his muscles sing from the exertion and exercise he was putting them through. The assassin blocked and dodged most of his attacks before leaping up to the wooden platform and swiped downwards at him. Robin ducked under the blade before reaching out and grabbed one of the shin guards he was wearing and pulled, sending the assassin unceremoniously onto the floor of the platform.
Once he would have stepped back to allow him to recover, but Robin knew that this sparring match was a little different and instead cut downwards towards the fallen body. The assassin rolled out of the way before righting himself quickly and leapt off of the platform, launching another flurry of attacks. Robin blocked what he could and backed away from those that he couldn't before the Altaїr suddenly got under his guard and smashed an elbow across his face.
Robin reeled against the blow, feeling the stinging pain across his cheek, but it drew no blood and he shook his head to clear the slight stars he was seeing. That was most certainly revenge for what he had done to Altaїr at the platform. He grinned, feeling his blood boil with the understanding that this was definitely a competition to see who would surrender first and saw the same expression on his friend's face, though it was a little more feral than he had expected. Altaїr would not make the same mistake twice.
Side stepping a downward strike, he parried the blade aside before his friend lashed out in a wide arc with both of his hands. However, Robin was instantly wary of the move, recognizing it from long ago, and reacted on instinct. He drew himself closer to the assassin instead of backing away like last time and switched his grip to a single handed one. He shot his left arm out and suddenly trapped the assassin's own free left hand, the one housing the hidden blade, under his and twisted just so, his right hand holding his blade flicking the loosened grip Altaїr had on his own sword, disarming him. He finished his move by placing the curve of his Saracen blade in a reversed grip next to the neck of the assassin, freezing him in place.
Robin glanced back saw the surprise in Altaїr's dark eyes and knew that his friend had not given him the sparring session; he had won it on his own merit before stepping back, steadying his own heavy breathing and sheathed his sword. He watched as the assassin picked up his own discarded sword and sheathed it before facing him, a wiry smile on the normally stoic man's face.
“I-”
“There is no need to explain yourself,” Altaїr held up a hand to stop him from saying anything, “there are times when I must relearn humility and you have delivered it soundly. This match is yours.” The master assassin bowed to him and Robin returned it before finally allowing the grin to appear on his face.
A smattering of applause made him look up to see Marian and Maria, holding Altaїr's child, staring down at them along with Much who was nodding. Will and Djaq were nearby, the former of the two wide-eyed and impressed with what he had seen. Even some of the guardsmen looked impressed with the sparring the two of them had done and Robin suddenly felt self-conscious. He had loved the attention as Robin Hood and still loved the adoration the populace heaped upon him whenever he made his presence known during market days and riding through the villages on during inspection, but this...this was a little more personal.
Robin coughed a little, “Dinner in two hours.” He avoided the gazes of everyone before picking up his discarded bow and arrows before heading into the castle in a completely different direction. The first time he had defeated Altaїr and he somehow felt thoroughly embarrassed.
Dinner was a quiet, normal affair as Marian had asked both Djaq and Will of their plans in the Holy Lands, while also asking Maria as to what route they would take back to Masyaf. Much interjected with a few stops along the way, having taken the same route when he and Robin had been in the King's service. It had left Robin and Altaїr eating in silence, but he was glad because it gave him a chance to reflect upon the fact that the last of the Robin Hood band of merry men was leaving and it would soon just be him, Much, and Marian left in Nottingham.
As night fell, Robin laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, listening to the sounds of the evening creatures, the soft breathing of Marian, now visibly with child, as she slept next to him. He had been fretting his decision since finding out that the master assassin was to return to Masyaf and finally sat up from his bed, easing himself to the side and stared down at his boots.
Picking the left one up, he shook it a little, hearing a faint rattle at the bottom of the heel and dumped out its contents. The small pebble-sized partial Piece of Eden he had carried for so long upon him lay inert in his palm. There was no whisper now, nor had there been the whisper of power since his battle with Vaysey. Rolling it across his palms, he stared at it for a long time. The assassin had trusted him with this, but Robin knew that with his shortened time here on Earth, he may never get another chance to return the object to Altaїr.
He would certainly never bequeath it to his unborn child or to Marian, unwilling to put them in harm's way, even if the seemingly innocuous pebble-sized thing looked harmless. No, he remembered with stark clarity each time he had used this thing, each time it had whispered corrupted words to him, forcing him to confront and expose the darker side of himself. Altaїr had given to him in trust, saying that he was a stronger man to resist its temptations, but Robin knew that he was not a stronger man...he had the same needs and wants as any other man, he just chose not to give into it. The master assassin had said that it was part of a staff and Robin knew that it was the staff that Leopold had wielded, now under the protection of the assassins in Venice. What the staff would end up as, he did not know, but perhaps it was time to reunite the final missing piece.
Robin breathed out a quiet sigh and clasped the partial Piece of Eden in his hand. It was time...
The next morning, Robin watched as Altaїr settled Maria upon her horse as she clutched their son close to her. Will and Djaq had already mounted and were waiting. Behind Robin stood Marian and Much and somewhere within the castle, most definitely watching was Gisborne. Robin did not mind that the man was watching this; in fact, he had hoped Gisborne would be watching, because of what he as going to do.
He walked over to Will and Djaq, smiling up at them as Will held out his hand, leaning a little down from his saddle. Robin took the hand and shook it firmly before patting the man on his forearm. “Have a safe journey and hopefully you and Djaq will return someday with new tales from the Holy Lands.”
“I will Robin, I will,” Will nodded solemnly before Robin moved over to Djaq who handed him a small bottle.
“This is to help with the winter months. It will ease your coughing. I gave a list to Marian for herbs that can make this for the years to come,” Djaq said as Robin nodded and took the bottle, pocketing it.
“Thank you, Saffiya, for your efforts. I hope that when you do return to your home, you will remember England not for its slavery, but for its kindness and generosity,” he deliberately addressed Djaq by her real name and smiled a little to see a faint blush on her cheeks.
“If not for you, then I probably would have found myself dead in a mine or slaving away in another. As long as there are those who remember the name Robin Hood, then I will remember England fondly,” she said.
There was only a gracious nod to Maria for his goodbye, a part of him still unable to reconcile the fact that she was a former Templar, former steward of Robert de Sable, and married to Altaїr of all people, the Grand Master of the Hashashin. As he turned to face the master assassin he could only let a rueful smile appear on his face as he stretched his hand out.
Altaїr met his hand with his own and Robin saw the slight flicker of surprise appear in his eyes as he felt the pebble-sized Piece of Eden in Robin's hand, ready to give it back to him.
“I have guarded it well, but it is time for this Piece of Eden to be reunited with its whole,” Robin said before releasing the master assassin's hand after a firm shake.
“Then it shall be done,” Altaїr replied, “Salaam Robin of Locksley.”
“Salaam Altaїr ibn la-Ahad.”
With that, the master assassin mounted his horse and the four rode away from Nottingham, headed east towards the port towns. Robin would see Will and Djaq on occasion, the two having married in the Holy Lands and returned with new stories and adventures. But Robin would never see his white-robed friend again, nor would he ever set foot in the Holy Lands, the two paths that had converged into an odd friendship now split up once more.
* * *
Another month passed and Robin realized that of all of his gang, Much was the only one who had not left yet, and to his recent memory, Much had not even gone back to Bonchurch. So with much urging and reassurances, Robin officially declared Much his steward of Locksley lands and the lord of Bonchurch, forcing Much to leave Nottingham, though the two friends would see each other every week due to Much being a noble now and had to come to the Nobles' Council.
It was only during the Summer Solstice Festival that Robin had found out Much had been searching for Eve, the woman he had fallen in love with when she had been one of Vaysey's spies before turning against her former master. By the time the Autumnal Festival rolled around the two had married and Eve was now Lady of Bonchurch. A month after that, Marian had given birth to a healthy boy who was named Robert Edward after both Robin and Marian's fathers. It was also one of the few times anyone had seen Robin completely flustered with the impending birth and hopeful survival of Marian from childbirth.
A year later, Robin gave the lands he had inherited from Tomas, his former second-in-command of the Private Guard, to Gisborne and appointed him Lord of the new Gisborne lands to which the man had been very surprised, but had also been immensely grateful. He released Gisborne from his service to tend to his new lands, but kept him at will if he needed to call upon him.
As the years passed and the winters came and gone, the wound that Djaq said would never fully heal was realized. It was the winter of the fourteenth year since that fateful day Robin fought and defeated the Vaysey, the former Sheriff of Nottingham that he passed away in his sleep. It was also only then that King John had made any outward movement against Nottinghamshire and finally appointed his own Sheriff, proving that he had been still scared of his older brother's shadow and the powerful influence Robin had controlling one of England's greatest central trade hubs.
But by the time the new Sheriff arrived to take control, Marian and her son, young Robert of Locksley had already left, Marian having wanted to journey to the Holy Lands to discover the beginnings of the journey her beloved had embarked upon. So they traveled to the Holy Lands, enlisting the help of Carter of Tulane before finally, after three and half months, arrived at Masyaf where they were welcomed by Altaїr and the others of the Hashashin.
“And then...?” a youthful voice spoke up, startling the old man from his narration. He wore the threadbare colorful poncho that had seen better days.
“And then...?”
“What happened to Robert of Locksley, son of Robin Hood?”
“Ah,” the old man laughed, a wheezing sound as he rocked his chair by the fireplace of Bonchurch, “well, that is a story for another time, young one.”
“But Master Much, you said you would tell us the whole story! I thought the legend of Robin Hood wasn't over!” another child whined.
“Now, now,” one of the mothers of the village chided gently before standing up, “children, I think that is enough now. Lord Much needs his rest and you can all come back tomorrow to listen to more stories, is that right?”
The old man nodded, “Yes, yes. I need to still tell you the story of when Robin and his merry band of men met this witch in Sherwood.”
That elicited a series of gasps from the children before they were shuffled out of the door, giggling. The door closed and the old man finally relaxed into his chair, staring into the flickering fireplace. He pulled his poncho closer to him, even though he knew that it would not warm him. Looking up at the mantle, his eyes settled upon the familiar curved Saracen sword, still sharp as ever, but never used since he had been given it at the funeral of Robin of Locksley.
“I've kept your memory alive, Master...” he whispered.
Of all of the outlaws, Much, Robin's former manservant, stayed behind, ever faithful, ever loyal – after all, who else would be able to tell the children and their children the legend of Robin Hood?
~END~
Historical Notes:
In reality, after signing a peace treaty with Salah al-Din in September of 1192, King Richard was captured by Leopold V, Duke of Austria in Vienna after trying to sneak through to Saxony where it was ruled by his brother-in-law. However, Leopold was forced to give up his prized prisoner to Emperor Henry VI who eventually ransomed him for a lot of gold. That gold was collected by both Prince John and by the brothers’ mother Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard was released in March 1194. Richard did arrive in England, but only London and brought his wayward brother to heel.
Soon after, his wealth depleted by years in the Crusades, he launched campaigns against the nobles of Normandy, determined to reclaim his lands after they had been sold by his mother to provide money for his ransom. In 1199, he died after being shot by an errant arrow while on one of his campaigns.
Before he had died, Richard had his adopted son, Arthur declared as an heir over his brother John. But with his death, Prince John seized the English lands and declared himself King while Arthur was left with only the dukedom of Brittany. King John and his mother Eleanor of Aquitaine divided the rest of the lands up since Arthur was in league with Phillip, King of France (and both Richard and Phillip had launched the Third Crusade together, but had a falling out before Phillip left).
Assassin’s Creed Notes:
The staff Piece of Eden depicted in this story will eventually become the Papal staff and powerful Piece of Eden that fans of Assassin’s Creed II know that Rodrigo Borgia, the head of the Templars, wields against that game’s protagonist, Ezio Auditore da Firenze (who is a descendant of Altaїr). I depicted it to be stored in Venice, then lost through the years, especially during the sacking of Constantinople in the Fourth Crusade (where Venice became extremely rich), and end up in the Templar hands instead of Assassin’s safe keeping.
Author’s Q&A:
Q: Why did you kill so many characters?
A: Nottingham and Robin Hood were so far removed from the horrors of the Third Crusade that when war literally came to their front door, people were going to die, no matter what. I had planned for only certain characters (mainly the villains) to die in the initial planning, but as I actually wrote out this story, I realized that it was the populace of Nottingham, not Robin or any of the battle-hardened people, that would bear the brunt of the slaughter. Simple answer: it is war. War is ugly, any other story that dresses it up so prettily is lying. But in respects to the Robin Hood legend, I did not kill any of the gang, since they have legend immunity. I maimed them a little, but did not outright kill them.
Q: But you did kill Robin…or at least shortened his life.
A: Yes, yes I did. As I was writing this whole series, I had this particular ending in mind since I started work on Well Met Steel. And it was a slight tribute to one of my favorite TV series of all time, Babylon 5, but that’s beside the point. I had two choices, kill Robin outright and give him a martyr’s death because as an outlaw, that is what would probably happen, or let him live a little, but with a shortened life. Since Season 3 outright killed Robin in a way that I thought was good and bad (their killing of Marian just put me off of Season 3 completely), I decided to be a little more humane and give him a shortened life. The ending with Much’s narration is also based off of the 1998 mini-series Merlin (not the recent TV series)
Q: What about Gisborne’s fate?
A: Actually Gisborne was on the slate to die for a long time until I talked to my beta while writing this story and decided that Gisborne would actually live. My idea was what if someone actually gave Gisborne and god-honest chance? And the natural question was, besides Marian, who else would do it. The simple answer was, Robin. For all of his hatred to what Gisborne did, I believed that Robin would have eventually pitied the man and in that pity, spare him and give him his chance. So that’s what happened in the story. The Sheriff, oh he was going to die no matter what – you cannot leave a deadly serpent like that alive.
Q: So how did you come up with this whole series?
A: My initial idea was based off of “Tattoo, What Tattoo?” to explore the darker side of Robin. Then watching “Return of the King” made me want to explore what would happen if the real King Richard returned while Robin was still an outlaw. Then I laughed myself silly at the horribly inaccurate portrayal of the King in the season finale of Season 2 and decided that it would be my goal to depict the real King Richard as he should have been in Robin Hood. I added Assassin’s Creed elements only after I started to play the game and fell in love with it and realized it was plausible to cross the two fandoms over because of the awesome and surprisingly accurate portrayal of the King in the game.
Q: Wow you really must like King Richard the Lionhearted.
A: Actually…I don’t. He fascinates me because he’s so horribly flawed and revered at the same time – which excites the inner historian in me. But I really dislike the guy; he’s such an asshole and stupid idiot. Brilliant strategist, I have to give him that, but politically inept. Carter’s perspective on the King is a little closer to my true feelings on the King than Robin’s. Though Robin’s perspective of the King is through a very shiny looking glass. I just make historical figures look good in my stories. ^_^
Q: That’s the second time you’ve used cauterization in your Robin Hood stories, what gives?
A: When writing any historical-based story, even in a fandom like Robin Hood, I strive to be as accurate as possible in both reality and within the series itself. I liked how eastern medicine during that time period was so much more advanced and the TV series also showed Djaq using silver nitrate to clot one a scratch that Little John had received. This is also not the only story I’ve used it in, I used silver nitrate in one of my Jeremiah fanfics to great effect.
Q: Are you going to write any other stories for Robin Hood?
A: Perhaps, a few years down the road. Witch Hazel and Quarantine are the only stories left in this AU that still need to be written and I am considering a couple of one-shots down the line regarding some of the time jumps that happened in the Epilogue. But as of this posting, no. This is my swan song and my exit from the Robin Hood fandom.
Final Notes:
I would like to thank every single one of you readers for staying with this story and your encouragement all the way. I hoped you’ve enjoyed my offerings to Robin Hood. I enjoyed reading your reviews and answering your questions. I encourage you to read my other works if you so please, but if not, then you can go back and re-read this whole series starting from Well Met Steel.
A few people of note I would like to thank: Jammeke, WildFire203, Sapphiresanctuary, ElleB8327, avidgokufan, AKlimesh, Nathol99, Marlab, Dodectron, polissak, AngelsShadow816, Jupiter13-EpicReader, allerdycegirl, MusicIsLife-x, KeepingAmused, C.R. Cheetah, Deb1, sheshhat, ladie red, MontyPythonFan, Forever A Fool of Fortune, gatewatcher, Es Louise Hernandez-Coppard, anybody-out-there, chat-noir-91, Rei Tamashii, alwayslovingsv, Mizco. As of this posting, all of you have stood by my works and have left me invaluable feedback. Thank you. For those of you who have just reviewed, I thank you too.
The final big thank you goes to my faithful and awesome beta reader, Algae09, also known as Legume Shadow, who finally worked up the courage to start posting fanfics on livejournal.
So ends The King Richard Trilogy: The Moment of Truth.