The story of the foreigner
Hidden in the forest a secret community thrived within the shelter and protection of Sherwood Forest. The old stories about the cursed and haunted forest had made it a safe haven for outlaws with price tags on their heads. It was perilous times, the Sheriff's hand was strict and ruthless in the absence of King Richard. To steal a mere loaf of bread was enough to be handed a death sentence if you got yourself caught. This secret village in the treetops of Sherwood was the home of many unlucky soul that couldn't return to their home in fear of getting caught, but they didn't complain. There were many people back in the village who were far worse off than them.
Wolf Little was the centre of attention in this night as the little community gathered round the campfire. Over and over again he told his tale about the foreign-dressed stranger on the black stallion and how he'd been hunted down by the Sheriff himself and many of his men. As the darkness came closer and it was time for the smallest of the children to go to bed, Wolf had just finished round four of his story. As most stories this also tended to grow more spectacular by every repeat. Wolf was a skilled boy who knew how to keep his listeners on their toes wanting more, and his father was silently wondering when the lad would start telling how this stranger started to whinny at the horse, telling it, it had to head home and put the kettle on.
"There now, Wolf! We've all heard your tale! Now it's time for you to join your sisters and brothers! Off to bed with you now!"
"But dad!" the boy complained and put on a miserable face: "I haven't got a chance to tell Robin yet!" John Little was a tall man, vigorously built and strong as a bull. But he was a big softie who couldn't stay firm to his own kids if so his life depended on it.
"Oh, all right then," he sighed as the boy lit up in his entire face: "But just one more hour! I don't know where Robin's hiding out tonight, but I bet he'll be home no earlier than the previous nights he's been out lurking in secrecy.
"Come on!" the round bellied munch beside him moaned: "Are you blind my good man? Have you seen the face of that man when he rides in here at night, the smile, the perky walk.. The man's in loose! He looks just like me when I can relax with a keg of delicious mead!" Brother Tuck laughed and patted John on the back with an unsteady hand: "I'm telling you Little John, our good friend and leader has found him self a lady friend!"
And indeed the munch had struck bull's eye this time. For Robin of Loxley had in fact fallen in love, and head over heals in love to be exact. A secret love-connection was blossoming between Robin and the fair Maiden Marion. They had secret meetings in the woods, and tonight was one of these nights when they met in a clearing in the woods, taking a midnight stroll while Marion's servant girl minded their horses. The two of them were made for each other, a match made in heaven. The stubborn, rebellious Robin and the wise, clearheaded Marion. They had fought as cat and dog in their childhood years, but when Robin returned from the crusades only to find misery, he found solitude in Marion's sparkling green eyes and untameable red hair. Now they met in secrecy as often as they dared, just to spend some treasured minutes together. On their small walks they would talk about what went on in their lives and about rumours that were spreading both in the forest and the village.
Marion was as stunningly beautiful as always this evening. She wore a lavender cotton-woven dress, and the simplicity of it made her beauty even more outstanding. Her hair was braided and she wore a simple wreath of daisies. Her white, slender hand was tucked neatly into Robin's and her head rested easily on his shoulder. Oh yes, Robin was indeed very much in love. He saw nothing but her face these days, and to think he managed to rob tax-carts without screwing up in this joyous mood! In fact he'd pulled his last stunt this very day. To think the Sheriff was stupid enough to be lured into his little set- up! Robin and his men had collected more "taxes" this day then they'd been able to scrape together in a whole year! The money they had collected had already been handed back to their rightful owners by Bull and Will, two of Robin's most trusted companions.
They had been walking for ten minutes in blessed silence, just inhaling each others presence when Marion tilted her head upwards towards Robin.
"Have you heard the latest rumour from the village?" Ah, those green, green eyes- like emeralds. Robin smiled at her gaze and shook his head:
"No, this one must have escaped me, I've been so busy today I haven't had the time to sit down and squabble with any nosy old know-it-all's yet. But, please! Fill me in!" He laughed as he had to duck from a tiny fist aiming at his jaw.
"There, there! Temper, woman!" he ordered with a big boyish grin on his face as they both tumbled down on a moss-covered patch. Marion laughed and her bright smile shone up the whole forest as for Robin concerned and they settled in each other's arms with a tender kiss.
"So, tell me already, my fair maiden!" Robin kissed her nose and brushed her cheek with a brown hand.
"There's rumours about a stranger that tried to escape from the Nottingham Mansion today," Marion told and supported her head on an elbow as she continued:
"Buggwick, the miller told me he'd seen a strange looking man riding down the village-street as if his heals were on fire. He was dressed all in black, and he was riding a black stallion. He rode so fast no one was able to catch his face, but he had to be a foreign of some sort, because he wore strange clothes. Down by the tavern the Sheriff and his men caught eye of him and they drove him towards the forest. An hour later he was supposedly brought back, but they had covered up his face as if someone was afraid somebody would recognise him." Robin never got tired of looking at her face, or to feel the natural compassion this woman felt for all living beings:
"Sweet, sweet Marion, has the Old Buggwick been glancing into the old mead barrel again? I thought you stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago. I have my contacts in the old Nottingham Mansion, if there was anybody there I should know about, I would have." Marion sat up, a small frown on her face as impatience caught the better of her:
"Can you please let me finish before you start telling me what to believe or not?" she said in a rather irritated tone of voice:
"A couple of months ago I went to see George, the Sheriff, because an old and poor munch had told me how the Sheriff had raised the taxes AGAIN and was threatening to burn down the monastery. I was so outraged I went straight into town to yell at him and he was still eating breakfast in the dining hall when I came."
"Ah, with the foul creature that's supposed to be his mummy?" Robin asked. "Yes, her and.. him." Marion answered with a far away gaze.
"Him, who?" Robin asked as he too sat up, pondering who it could be making his Marion get that look on her face. All right, maybe he was feeling a little prick of jealousy then.
"It's odd, really. You see, he was seated in front of the Sheriff, in stead of besides him. When I entered both men stood up, and then he turned… He was dressed all in black and had shoulder long, black hair. He looked like nobody I've ever seen, but before I could get close enough to see his face George came running to greet me, as if he was afraid I would get a glimpse of his guest. I know it sounds weird, but I felt some sort of connection with the stranger, and I really wanted to meet him somehow. But I was mad, as I told you, at George- and when he started talking to me it was like I forgot the stranger. And when I asked George about him he pretended he didn't hear me. I never saw that man again, but I'm pretty sure the man that was fleeing for the forest today and the man I saw that morning was one and same man." Robin had a puzzled look on his face:
"That's odd," he said and scratched his chin: "I've never heard anything about this man. I wonder…" He said no more for a while and Marion got to her feet, correcting her dress.
"I better start heading back, you know Mary, she'll be worried to death if I stay away to long." Robin followed her example with a sigh.
"I hate every goodbye we have to make, Marion." They folded hands and went slowly back the same way that they had come.
"I know, I hate them too," Marion said and leaned her head on his shoulder once more: "I only wish cousin Richard would be back from the crusades soon. What do you think of the stranger I told you about? I worry about him, you know, even before I heard about his attempted escape today. He's left some sort of mark on me, and I have this feeling he's in great peril.. Do you think there's anything you could do? Find out who he is maybe, why he's in George's captivity? Robin placed an arm round her slender waist:
"I'll see what I can do, Marion." He would definitely look into it. He needed to know who this man that was occupying Marion's mind was..
He rode into the very "Town of the treetops" as Little John had one last, hopeless attempt at chasing his eldest son to bed. As Robin's white horse made it's entrance, with their leader on top, Wolf ran towards him with an eager expression on his face:
"Robin, Robin- I have something to tell you!" he yelled and took the reins Robin offered him.
"Not now, Wolf. I have something important to discuss with your father and the rest of the men," Robin said as he stepped down from the horse.
"But.." Wolf started, but knew the battle was lost. He sighed and took Robin's horse to the paddock he and his father had built a few weeks ago, to shelter the horses from the worst winter cold.
A plan was brewing in Robin's mind. He was going to pay this mystery guest a visit, tonight. He needed some of his men to help him, because he was planning a kidnapping, not just a cup of coffee and fond goodbyes. He wanted to know everything about this man, and the fact that he was dining with the Sheriff would have to make him pretty darn important. This was no ordinary prisoner or common man. But what and who was he? Why was he in the Sheriff's captivity? Why had he tried to escape? What was the Sheriff's interest in him? And even more important, why did Marion feel this strange connection to him?
*-*
Severus awoke with a silent scream as a strong hand clamped around his throat and squeezed it until he was near choking. Every bit of hope of ever getting away from this hell vanished as Severus realised he was more afraid than he'd ever been in his entire life..
He was blinded by the darkness and the lack of oxygen to his brain started to affect him, the wizard was sure his final hour had arrived.
Panic struck his brain as he fought to lift his arms, he was tied down again..
"Be silent, or I will kill you!" The voice didn't belong to the Sheriff. It was far to husky and growling, like the man of whom it belonged talked far down in his throat.
"Promise!" the voice said and squeezed a little harder. Severus tried his best to nod, and the grip eased a tad.
"Bull, cover up his face, but be sure to bribe him first!" a new voice whispered. Severus suddenly realised there were a lot more men in this room than he'd first reckoned, it had to be at least four- five of them, scurrying about. A piece of cloth was jammed into his mouth to keep him from screaming, and a sack that smelled like flour was dragged down over his head. The chains tying him down were loosened and the next Severus knew he was dragged on his feet. What was going on? Who were these men, and where were they taking him? Could it be the Sheriff had worked out some devious plan in order to psyche the broken wizard even more out? Was he waiting down in his secret bedchamber preparing to kill Severus the slowest and most painful way possible? Or worse, was he going to let him live..?
The battered and very tired alchemist had no idea where he was dragged. He had no chance to give away any sound, his mouth was too stuffed, and he probably wouldn't anyway. He had only one mission and that was to stay on his feet. If he fell now, with his hands tied on back, he could hurt the thing growing inside him. Down some stairs, to quick, he had no chance to keep up with the fast pace of his kidnappers or what ever they were. His lungs started to burn and he got far too little oxygen through his nose.
"Get moving, lard ass!" somebody hissed and shoved him forward. Severus tried his best to quicken his pace, but he was starting to get dizzy and his battered body was starting to cave in on him. He made a gurgling sound and fell down to his knees, too tired to stay on his feet.
"Get up!" the same voice growled and a small kick was placed on his lower back to state the stranger's point.
"Don't you see, he's exhausted! It won't help if you kick' im like that," a new voice interfered: "Let me carry' im!" The next Severus knew someone strong was carrying him in his arms like a little baby.
"Yeah, that's nice! Save him the trouble of walking!" the hostile voice hissed on what Severus believed to be his left as the journey continued to the unknown destination.
Sudden cold covering his body told Severus his captors had brought him outside into the thin winter air, that would mean he was being brought away from the castle, but where? Where in this rotten little area would someone be in need of a near death potions master who no longer had the will to fight? Could it be… the Sheriff's hated enemy had learned about his plans about taking over the kingdom in King Richard's absence? If so he was as dead in the rebels' hands as he was inside his prison cell up in the tower.
He was thrown onto the back of a horse, thankfully on his side. A man, probably the man that had carried him all this way, mounted the horse afterwards and sat the defenceless wizard firmly between his thighs. An arm, hard as concrete was placed over Severus chest in case he would make any sudden moves and try to escape.
"Stop babying him, Little John, get a move on!" And with that the big man with the wizard, more resembling a potato sack, neatly tucked between his thighs told the horse to move with a sharp click with his tongue.
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