Post of the Month

~ December 2006 ~

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Merries ~ Written by all writers.  Posted on the HoS Yahoo group January 2006.

John's head was throbbing from the heat of the day.

It was a close, sticky summer day, even with the cool green canopy of the trees closed over them. Little sunshine penetrated the leaves in this area of Sherwood - just the occasional splash of brilliance here and there - but despite the absence of the bright sun and the throbbing heat it brought, John's head and eyes ached both. The heat from his leg had seemed to rise to cover the whole of his body - a most curious feeling.

Thankfully the horse he rode was tired. It plodded along, following Will, who was a few yards ahead, forever keeping an alert look-out, and leading the way.

John glanced behind him. Tuck and Rhiannon followed the horse along the track; Tuck carrying a large bundle and puffing and blowing as he forged his way through some bracken, his stout quarterstaff in his hand. Rhiannon walked beside the friar, a pack and a water skin slung over her shoulder, an asleep Ellie sagged against Rhiannon's chest, safely secured in her carrying sling. Watching Ellie, John was suddenly minded of his mother, who had had eleven children, of which he had been the eldest. She had used to work out in the fields of Hathersage with the latest edition of the Little family secured to her like that....

_She's a sturdy little maid, I'll give her that,_ John thought with admiration, watching Rhiannon, and was reminded of Meg in some ways. Born of tough village stock. He could not help but compare both women to slim, fragile Marian, who had always looked as though she was not resilient enough to live in Sherwood. She had proved surprisingly hardly, physically - but not so emotionally, John thought with some sadness, thinking back over the previous year and how Marian had become detached from them after Loxley's death.

He wondered if she was faring well at Halstead Priory. Perhaps the peace there would bring peace to her troubled mind. He hoped so.

Behind Rhiannon and Tuck, walked Alan and Robert, Alan guiding Robert. Not that Robert needed guiding; by now he seemed to have learnt almost every track and stream in Sherwood and John knew for a fact that Robert knew his way along this particular track - but sometimes he seemed to like guidance just for the sake of some physical contact. Or to enable him to focus more on his inner thoughts whilst he walked. All of them were comfortable with guiding Robert now if he requested, knowing by now what he needed from them - but Robert often chose Alan to guide him. Alan was usually quiet and uncomplicated company, but more than that, he had always seemed to be on the same wave-length as Robert, John thought. Perhaps that was why he was often chosen by Robert to provide guidance.

Robert seemed to be enjoying their walk, judging by the occasional slight smile that crossed his face. Or perhaps he was relieved. The tension that had been apparent in him at the old camp had lessened in his face, in his whole body, as they had left the old camp behind. John had noticed. Robert kept pace beside Alan, his hand lightly holding onto to Alan's arm, sensitive to every slight change of direction and quick to respond, and he kept turning his head to listen around him.

John knew by now that Robert absorbed Sherwood more deeply and in ways that his sighted friends never could. It was not for nothing that Robert chose to bring up the rear of this small travelling company. As Will was the advance guard, Robert was the rear guard, and he was listening for potential danger all the time. It was not that his ears were better than theirs, but they were far more attuned to the forest, to his changing surroundings, and they could focus in far better to all the sounds and sift them to determine what was usual and what was not.

Alan seemed more pensive than usual. He was quiet as he walked with Robert along the narrow track. John studied the minstrel thoughtfully. _A woman's the cause,_ thought John. He knew Alan well by now. _Well, Scarlet won't like it if Alan goes after Jenet of Elsdon. That is, if she'll have him...._

He shook his head to himself and turned back to face the front as the narrow trackway in all its green splendour unfolded before them. He could smell smoke, but he wasn't alarmed. They were almost at the lakeside camp, and clearly Much and Nasir had arrived and got a meal on the go, thought John.

Robert could smell the faint trace of smoke, also. He lifted his head as he walked beside Alan, sifting that scent amongst all the other scents around him. The smoke of a camp-fire...

He walked on, keeping a light hold of Alan's upper arm, quick to turn when Alan did. The track twisted and was narrow in places; Robert's stick hit tree-roots and bracken to his left, and he recognised the changing route only too well. They were almost at camp. The forest around here was very thick at this point - thorn-bushes, waist-high bracken and trees clustered closely together. They kept passing in and out of his perception as hard vertical lines amongst the blurs of softness he could feel around him. There was a damp, earthy smell to the air, even in the heat of this summer's day that suggested a large body of water nearby - the lake.

Robert felt relieved. This was deep forest indeed, a place where very few folk came, and this area of Sherwood always felt secure to him. It enveloped him like a pair of protective arms. The trees always seemed extra watchful here, to him, and as he walked now, they rustled above him, seeming to whisper calmly to him that all was well here, there were no intruders.

Alan was quiet beside him. He had been quiet for most of the walk, occasionally giving Robert a snippet of visual description or a brief explanation why they had made a slight detour. There had been a time once, shortly after the restoration of Robert's blindness, that he had used to pour into Robert's ears a whole host of visual description if they had walked together. But then he had seen that the born-blind Robert could not understand the majority of it and was not interested in poetical description of light and colours, and so had ceased with such description. Instead, he had learnt to give Robert the sort of factual description needed - description of distance, objects that were in their way or ahead out of Robert's range of perception, description of how deep something was, or how high or how wide. All useful information to Robert.

"We're almost there," Robert observed quietly to Alan as they walked.

"Aye," Alan replied, unsurprised at Robert's observation without sight. He too felt relieved at leaving the old camp. They had probably camped there for longer than they should have. Here by the lake felt much safer. He had always felt secure at this particular camp - perhaps it was because of the presence of the high cliff face at their backs.

And there was something about the lake near the camp that drew Alan. Folk said it was inhabited by some sort of monster which resided in its deep icy depths - but Alan only found peace and serenity there, not foreboding. There was nothing about the lake that he found alarming - in fact, there was almost a religious atmosphere about it, a sanctity. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that when Loxley had died, they had stood at its edge and shot flaming arrows high up into the air above the lake as a goodbye. He had learnt that the outlaws in the past had often performed this ceremony for other, fallen friends who had joined them in Sherwood.

The sound of swishing bushes came ahead of Robert now, the sounds of the horse John was riding going through, and then the bushes came up to meet him; thick but flexible and yielding. There was always a path through, but several yards to push through before they broke out into the space of the clearing that served as their most hidden camp in Sherwood. Alan was forging ahead; Robert kept pace beside him, and kept his free hand up in front of his face to protect it as twigs whipped back against him. Then the outlaws suddenly broke out of the bushes and the space of the clearing was before Robert.

As soon as they pushed their way through the thick screen of bushes and everyone, including John on the horse, stopped short just inside the space of the clearing, Robert knew something was wrong. He stopped short beside Alan, and bewildered, touched his free hand to Alan's guiding arm to get his attention.

"What's amiss?" Robert questioned, immediately sensing everyone had stopped because of something they had seen.

"They ain't there," Will said grimly from where he stood beside Robert.

"What?" Robert couldn't believe what he heard.

"Nasir and Much. They ain't there," Will repeated, standing with the others on the perimeter of the clearing. "The camp's deserted."

Robert scanned over the empty space of the clearing before him, endeavouring to pick up any slight sound or movement that did not come from the rest of the outlaws paused beside him. He could not find anything, and bewildered, swung his head in unease, concerned by the absence of Nasir and Much. "Well, where are they? I can smell smoke from the fire..."

Alan touched Robert's arm. "A fire has indeed been built. But it's all but extinguished."

"Looks like they've bin here," said Will warily, "but gone again."

Robert frowned. "This is ridiculous. We told them to be here - we said we would be here at noon."

He knew this camp like the back of his hand. Letting go of Alan's arm, he walked forwards, until his sweeping stick clicked against round smooth stones. He felt over them with his stick, exploring their pattern. A ring of hearthstones encircling the fire which had been built.

Robert's stick clashed with the iron cookpot set on the hearthstones; he sat on his heels by the fire and felt over the rim of the cook pot. It was warm, but only just, having been moved away from the embers, and the fire was out, as Alan had said. He listened to the clearing around him, the smoke from the spent fire drifting up into his face, and he felt a prickle of unease run down his spine. "So one, or both, have been here, started a meal - and left again."

"They might be down at the lake fishing," Rhiannon suggested, shifting a now woken and restive Ellie onto her hip where she stood by the fire.

Robert frowned as he leant over the abandoned cook pot and finding the wooden spoon still within it, tasted the mixture within. "In Heavens name, why? They've been preparing food here - rabbit and squirrel - and one of them has fetched water for the meat to cook in....why in the midst of preparing a meal, have they suddenly decided to go fishing?"

He sat back on his heels and contemplated the possibilities. "This abandoned and half-cooked meal is worrying..."

Will scowled to himself, thinking the same thing, and patrolled the perimeter of the clearing, glaring into the depths of the shrubbery, alert to any unusual movement or sound coming from it.

"Alan, go down to the lake and see if they're there," Robert said finally over his shoulder to where the minstrel stood.

"Aye, Robert." Alan turned and darted off quietly through the shield of bushes.

Rhiannon shot Tuck a worried glance. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed, and went over to the fireside, laying a hand on Robert's shoulder as he bent to examine the contents of the cookpot.

"Do you think both of them were here, or just one?" Robert asked low of the friar at the feel of Tuck's touch to his shoulder. "Who started the meal do you think, Tuck?"

"Nasir." Tuck spoke with certainty as he inspected the contents of the cookpot, lifting the spoon to his mouth to taste the congealing stew. "He's added herbs and spices to the meat - Much wouldn't have done that."

"Looks like Naz laid the fire, too," John said from where he still sat astride the horse which had dropped its head to graze. "He has a certain way of laying it; it's unmistakable."

Robert deliberated over the information. "So Nasir has definitely been here. But where is Much? I sent him ahead of us at least a full hour before Nasir left us....."

"There's no sign of him, lad." John rode the horse slowly around the perimeter of the clearing, scanning it.

Robert rose slowly, and poked at the embers of the fire with his stick. "Fire's out. Any wood around here, Tuck?"

"Not by the fireside, lad. Should be some dry bundles in the cave." Tuck lifted the cookpot off the hearth stones with a slight grunt and shook his head at the contents. "The meat's only half-done, but I can salvage it. We need food in our stomachs-" he glanced anxiously across the clearing to John whose face looked ashen, "-so let's get the fire going quickly and I'll add some wortes to this mess Nasir has left."

"Here, Tuck." Rhiannon went across to the horse and unhooked from the back of the saddle the sack of food. She carried it back across to the friar and held it out to him; he took it and delved inside to pick out several shallots and a turnip.

"I'll fetch some wood," Robert said.

Having gained his bearings within this familiar space, he walked across the clearing towards the rock face, sweeping his stick before him. No-one offered assistance, they knew he did not need it. He came up against the rock face, reached out and felt over it with his hand, and followed it along to the cave opening.

The cave in the rock face was small, but it was at least dry. Robert felt his way to the very back, to a small corner, where dry wood had been stored from the previous time the outlaws had camped here. Such foresight could save a life on a cold winter's day or chilly rainy night, when firewood to be found in the forest was buried under snow or too damp to light.

There were several bundles of wood propped in the far corner. Robert gathered up such a bundle, and as he did so, inwardly cursed at Much afresh. If the youth had lost all track of time and become sidetracked for some paltry reason, causing Nasir to waste his time in search of him, some harsh words were going to be spoken when he arrived back.

_Supposing he has not arrived at camp for good reason though?_ nagged the thought away at Robert as with an armful of wood he headed out of the cave and back across the clearing to the sounds of Tuck and Rhiannon talking by the fire. _There were soldiers in Sherwood yesterday - who's to say there will not be soldiers in Sherwood this day? Especially if that one I shot at and wounded lived to get back to Nottingham and raise the alarm...._

He suspected that thought was on the others minds also, but he did not voice his own as he reached the fireside. Bending, he carefully added the wood to the fire, and heard small flames lick at it, as the embershungrily latched on to their new fuel.

"That's grand, lad." Tuck spoke more lightly than he felt. He was concerned as well, but decided not to voice it. Instead, he inspected afresh the contents of the cookpot, added fresh water and set the pot to the side of the fire on the now fiercely glowing embers. A few deft slashes of the knife he took from his belt, and the thick pieces of turnip tumbled into the pot to join the half-cooked meat, followed by the shallots.

Alan came panting back through the trees, pushing his way through the bushes to enter the clearing. "No-one's at the lake," Alan said. "No sign of them at all. They're not down there."

"This is madness!" Robert swore, struck the hearthstones with his stick and paced restlessly around the sputtering fire.

"Maybe they encountered trouble here," Alan said.

Will shook his head grimly, standing there with folded arms, looking on. His keen eyes had already swept the ground of the clearing. "Nah. No signs of a struggle here."

"Besides," Rhiannon added, "that cook-pot was quite clearly taken off the fire and placed aside. So the food wouldn't burn whilst the cook attended to something else. That wouldn't have happened had there been trouble here or some sort of attack or ambush."

Tuck wearily struggled to his feet from by the fire. "That's true enough."

Where he sat in the saddle, John looked around him at the camp and shook his head to himself. "You have to wonder if Much never got here and Nasir got worried; went to look for him."

"If that's the case, what's happened to Much?" Robert replied.

"You know how he can lose track of time, sometimes, Robert," John offered.

"Not when it MATTERS, John!" Robert swung round irritably in his direction. "Why make excuses for him? We said noon - he can see the bloody sun in the sky, can't he? Like you all?" He lowered his head, frowning to himself in agitation.

Will came up behind him, clapped an arm roughly around Robert's shoulders, and put the side of his forehead against Robert's. "Want me to go look for 'em?" Will asked quietly of Robert with surprising calm. The tactile gesture was intended to communicate to Robert to calm himself and regain focus; after a year of living with Robert, Will had found out what sort of physical contact worked and what did not.

Robert drew a deep breath, glad for the physical contact between he and the most undemonstrative of the outlaws. "Let's wait awhile first," he answered, more calmly.

Will drew his head away and looked Robert in the face. It kept clouding with trouble. Will knew how Robert felt.

"All right," Will said simply, gave the side of Robert's cheek a couple of brotherly pats with a grubby hand, and moved round the fire.

Robert sighed to himself and ran his hand through his hair. He felt unsettled and did not know how to describe his feelings to the others. At the back of his mind lingered the unpredictability of Much. The lad hadn't been in the best of moods when he had left camp; uncommunicative and distant. Sulking, almost, like a child.

_I cannot sort his feelings about me for him,_ Robert thought. _I have remained constant in nature towards him throughout this past year - but it is he who withdraws from me, not I from him. He expects me to be more than I am. That I cannot be...._

He swung his head uneasily to himself.

_Life with Loxley in Sherwood mayhap seemed like an adventure, a game to him, in some ways. He was just a young lad, and Loxley shielded him, made allowances for him. But he is no longer a young lad to be allowances for. And life in Sherwood is not an adventure. Not a game._

Where she stood by the fire with Ellie on her hip, feeding the child with a crust of bread from the sack of food, Rhiannon watched her husband anxiously. It was clear his inner thoughts were troubled, and she felt she knew where Robert's thoughts lay.

Over the past year she had witnessed the distance between he and Much, caused by Much's hurt and anger at Robert for not telling the band of his blood-tie with Gisbourne as soon as he had known about it. Ithad been that, more than Robert's actual blood-tie with Gisbourne, that had hurt and angered Much. He had lost some trust in Robert, some faith. Marian's slow descent into mental turmoil had added to Much's distress.

Yet none of his detachment - sometimes even coldness - towards Robert had been directed towards herself, and Rhiannon had been relieved, for she had felt the need to prove herself to this group of men in many other ways, particularly with first becoming pregnant and then returning to be part of the band with the child. She was Robin's half-sister, and in a way she was a link with Robin - a bridge to the past. Marian had seemed to find that unbearable, but over the past year, Much had seemed to find it a comfort.

She wished she knew how to bring the two men together again, to the former affection they had undoubtedly had for each other, before Robert had revealed his concealment of his blood-tie with Gisbourne. Over the past year, she had often seen Robert reach out to Much, and Much either not respond, or shrug Robert away. The result being of that action that Robert became hurt and irritable, and Much became even more distant and irritable, and the gulf between them widened just a little bit more.

Rhiannon wished she knew how to close the gulf.

She was brought out of her thoughts by a tug on her hair, and looking down at her child set on her hip, found Ellie's blue eyes focused on her, and her plump fingers firmly clinging onto a strand of hair. Realising her mother's attention was on her, Ellie squirmed and gave a restive wail, the bread crust in her other fist forgotten.

"She's fractious," Robert observed from where he stood, turning his head towards the sounds of his baby daughter.

"Hungry, and her teeth are sprouting, judging by the way she currently gnaws on everything. I'll feed her and hopefully she'll settle." Rhiannon passed by Robert, briefly laying an understanding hand on his arm as she passed, giving him a touch she knew would speak volumes to him, and she headed over to the horse, whereupon she, still with Ellie on one hip, began to untie the rolled up blankets behind the saddle, so she could spread one on the ground to lay Ellie on.

"I'll give you a hand, lass," John said, and swinging his leg over the saddle, dismounted.

He slid down awkwardly from the horse, and suddenly a stabbing pain ripped through his leg, and it buckled under him. He almost fell before he took his weight on his good leg, and he swore, screwing his eyes up.

"John!" Rhiannon rushed round the horse to his aid, putting out her free hand to steady him, whilst Ellie, sat on her mother's hip, gave a slight wail, sensing all too well the alarm about her mother.

Robert jerked out of his thoughts at Rhiannon's exclamation and John's pained curse, and hastily tapped his way over, putting his hand out to find John's form. "John? What's amiss?" He felt over the shape of John beside him, finding that John's shoulders were bowed, his whole frame slouched.

Tuck hurried over as well. "It's his leg," Tuck said; John gritted his teeth and hung on hard to the side of the saddle. "Look at his face, he's got a fever, no doubt about it."

Robert put his hand to John's face and gently explored it with sensitive fingertips. The shepherd's eyes were screwed up and his brow was creased in a clear expression of pain and effort to stay upright. Hisjaw was clenched and his mouth was taut. Most of all, the skin on John's face was burning.

"I'm all right," John insisted, putting one arm around Robert's shoulders for support as they hobbled over to the log near the fireside.

"No you're not," Tuck said calmly, moving to the other side of John to give support, "sit down and let me look at this leg."

John subsided onto the log with a sigh of relief, finding his legs had gone ridiculously weak.

Robert sat beside him, unslung the waterskin from his shoulder and pressed it into John's hand. "Here," said Robert. "-it's ale," he added, when he felt John made to push the waterskin away.

That made all the difference, John uncorked the waterskin and drank thirstily - almost desperately, like a man wanting to use the ale to dull the pain, Robert thought, concerned, listening to the shepherd gulp down the ale.

"Yeah, get him drunk again," Will said more lightly than he felt, hovering nearby and watching John with a concerned eye, but not knowing what to do to help his friend.

"Is he all right?" Alan, having tethered the horse at the edge of the clearing, now hurried across to join the small group clustered around their comrade.

Tuck swiftly unwrapped the wound, amid John wincing. "No. No, he's not," Tuck said quietly. "One of the stitches has broken, the surrounding flesh is swollen. The wound's infected." He looked seriously at John. "It must have felt bad this morn before we set off. Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't want to hold you up," said John. "We had the horse, I knew I could manage until we got here. Don't deny we needed to get to a safer place and I would have held you up if you'd known about the leg earlier-" he added defiantly, seeing Tuck about to draw breath to call him a fool.

Robert clapped a hand on John's shoulder. "Well, we're here now," Robert said, deciding not to chide John, knowing well he spoke the truth, "at least we're more protected here and you can rest."

"Aye, well," Tuck said meaningfully, "This infected wound's going to take more than just rest in order to heal. It's going to have to be cleansed and poulticed."

"What's needed?" Robert asked, rising from the log.

Tuck sighed and sat back. "Hog's fennel. It wards off gangrene and infection. It's the best for a wound like this. But I don't have any."

"Can't you get some?" said Alan. "Where does it grow?"

"It's the powdered root I need, lad," Tuck replied. "Mixed with some vinegar, it'll cleanse the wound." He felt John's forehead. "He needs something for the fever, too. Meadowsweet's the best - but I don't have any of that on me, either."

Alan's mind suddenly flashed back to the interior of Jenet's cott at Elsdon, and the aroma of many herbs hung in bunches from the rafters to dry. "Perhaps we can get some. Howabout Jenet?"

"Jenet? Jenet of Elsdon?" Robert queried, surprised.

"Yes," Alan answered. "She's a healer. When I dried off in her cott after rescuing her child from theriver, she had a lot of herbs there. She told me she was a healer. She seemed skilled...."

"Tuck?" Robert asked.

"If anyone has a good knowledge of healing with herbs, Jenet has," Tuck admitted. "She's more skilled than I."

"Yeah - an' she don't do only HEALING-" Will said savagely where he stood beside Robert.

Robert put out a hand and laid it on his shoulder to check him.

"If anyone has hog's fennel, she has," Tuck said. "And we need the powdered root - she would have that."

"Elsdon's a long way from here," Rhiannon said.

"No matter," said Alan. "We've a horse. I'll ride over there, and I can be back before evening."

"All right," said Robert. "Go and get what John needs."

"ROBERT-!" Will turned to him aggrievedly. "She's a bleedin' DANGER!"

"Can't we seek help from another village?" John said, wincing as Tuck dabbed at the oozing wound with the corner of a damp cloth.

"Who else would have the skill and the herbs we need, Tuck?" Robert asked.

Tuck shook his head. "I can't think of anyone as good as Jenet, Robert. She'd be the best to go to. Sometimes she's performed near-miracles with the healing in her village."

"Are you saying I need a miracle?" John tried to jest.

"You will do if you don't shut up an' let Tuck see to you," Will replied.

"Then it has to be Jenet we call upon to aid us," Robert decided."If she has what we needs and would be willing to help..."

Alan felt eager. "Then I'll go and ask for her help." He turned away to cross the clearing.

"Alan-?" said Robert; the minstrel turned back to him, knowing there was more coming. "Just bring the herbs here," Robert said wryly. "Not the woman."

"Yeah, this ain't a bleedin' bower for you to sing love-songs in to all the women of Nottinghamshire," Will said acidly.

"I never presumed it was," Alan replied just as acidly and stomped over to the horse.

"Alan-" Robert followed him over, and catching him up, laid a hand on the minstrel's arm as he untied the horse's reins from the tree. "Have a care. If there be soldiers around Elsdon, don't take unnecessary risks. Much and Naz gone missing is enough."

Alan turned to face Robert. "I'll be back by evening," Alan assured.

"Make sure you are; I don't want to have to come looking for you," Robert said wryly.

Alan smiled, reached out and touched Robert's cheek in indication that he understood the joke.

"I'll be back by evening," he repeated calmly, and led the horse out of the clearing and through the bushes.

Will glared round at the rest of the company within the clearing, then darted through the bushes after the minstrel and his steed. He caught up with Alan just as the minstrel began to lead the horse up the ash-tree covered slope to a track that led West to Elsdon.

Alan didn't give Will a glance as the outlaw caught up with him. "I thought we'd already bid each other a fond adieu," Alan said sarcastically.

Will kept pace with him up the slope. "You're bleedin' mad!" Will hissed. "An' I know why you're goin' - it ain't just for the herbs....!"

Alan kept his head down as he led the horse up the slope. "She'll help us. I know she will. I saved her child from drowning - she will be happy to help us."

Will marched up the slope alongside the minstrel. "Well, don't you tell her where we're camped. We don't want a repeat of what happened last time she knew where we were - we had GISBOURNE breathing down our bloody necks!"

Reaching the top of the slope, Alan swung himself aboard the horse and gathered up the reins.

"Do you want to come with me?" Alan asked pointedly. "You've been intent on accompanying me thus far."

Will glowered at him and turned away and stomped back down the slope. Alan gritted his teeth, nudged his heels against the horse's sides and set it off at a trot along the narrow track West.

Rhiannon had left camp and was standing at the bottom of the slope as Will stomped back down it. He reached her, and she looked at him searchingly. "Is Jenet really as bad as all that, Will - or do you just hate her for what she did years ago? What she was forced to do, under duress?"

Will ran a hand through his hair as he headed back towards camp, she kept pace with him. "Will?" she demanded.

"Nah, I don't HATE her...." Will muttered. "But someone's got to make Robert aware what happened before. I mean, REALLY aware, Rhiannon. He, you, Alan - you all don't know what REALLY happened back then - you don't know how CLOSE we came to being killed. All because of HER..."

"All because you were chivalrous, rescued her and brought her to the camp," Rhiannon added quietly but meaningfully.

"Yeah, well," Will said quietly with meaning, "I know better now...."

They headed back into camp.