Grant What I Wish

Grant What I Wish - Chapter 9. Zwischenzug

Chapter 9. Zwischenzug

When I remember your love,
I weep, and when I hear people
talking of you,
something in my chest,
where nothing much happens now,
moves as in sleep.
-Rumi

Sherwood Forest
1195

It was late at night in the outlaw's camp. All save two were sleeping in their beds, exhausted from the excitement and activity of the day. One of those still stirring sat by the dying fire, watching the embers cool and puzzling over the events that had passed, especially the stranger that had found his way to their camp. The other sat by the bed of the injured girl, ready to comfort her in case she should awaken in fear or pain.

Robin poked the embers absentmindedly as he uneasily kept turning events over and over in his mind. At Nottingham, he had been shocked to discover that a young girl was to be hung with Gisbourne. He had felt no remorse for Guy, whose punishment was fitting, but had been deeply disturbed at Isabella's plans to enact revenge on an innocent. He had been stunned when Guy had spoken out so strenuously against Isabella's plans, and pled with her for Meg's life. Perhaps there was a small spark of humanity in that black soul after all. He said a quick prayer that the girl's life would be spared.

More disturbing was the fact that a stranger knew his way to their camp. He recalled the warriors who had sprung to Gisbourne's defense earlier that day as the exploding keg created a diversion. These warriors had fought with a ferocity and skill he had not seen since his days in the Holy Land. The one who had rescued Guy had been particularly lethal, in spite of his short stature and smaller build. Robin had been amazed that, small as he was, he appeared to have inordinate strength and skill. In the blink of an eye, this renegade group had dispatched a full complement of guards, and slipped from Isabella's grasp with the prisoners in tow.

Robin had enjoyed the sight of Isabella screaming in impotent fury for the guards to pursue Guy and Meg; everything had been in such a state of chaos that it had taken several long moments for the soldiers to mount their horses and make their way free of the gates. Robin and his men by silent consent had done whatever they could to hinder the pursuit. By the time the soldiers finally made their way out of Nottingham, he was certain the fugitives were well hidden-but where? This line of reasoning led him back to the thoughts that kept him awake.

Who were these men, and why were they in Nottingham? It was clear they held no love for Isabella, but the fact that they rescued Guy did not bode well for Robin or his cause. Guy was a traitor to Prince John, true, but he was no friend of Richard's, either. Robin thought grimly that anyone who aided or abetted Gisbourne was no friend of his. After all, Guy had killed Marian, and there could be no forgiveness for such a heinous act.

A sudden moan from the invalid's bed made him turn his head. Meg was thrashing about beneath the covers, consumed by fever. In an instant, Much was on his feet, dipping a rag in the cool water he had toted from the river to bathe her face.

"There," Robin heard Much murmur as he laid the cloth upon the girl's forehead, "let's see if this helps. Do not be afraid, you are among friends."

"I'm so hot," she said in a fretful tone. "And my side hurts!"

"I know," Much replied. "I have more of the tisane that your rescuer left for you to drink-I added poppy like he instructed to help with the pain. Will you try to swallow some for me?" He slipped his arm carefully beneath her shoulders and lifted her up to a seated position, supporting her while she drained the cup. When she was finished, he tenderly laid her back on the bed and adjusted the covers around her. "Good girl," he crooned in a gentle voice. "Now, try to sleep. I will be right here by your side if you need anything."

She is so young, Much thought in wonder-much too young to have suffered so at the hands of Nottingham's soldiers. He found it incredible that Gisbourne had saved her, he who normally thought of no one but himself. Nay, he thought the next instant, Guy had thought well of Marian. But she was dead, and it was obvious that the plight of this young girl had touched that villain's heart.

Much felt a stirring of jealousy-did she care for Guy? He was much too old and tainted by life-he would end up breaking her heart. His protective instincts rose-she needed someone to care for her, now that her family had cast her out and she was a fugitive from the law.

Meg opened her eyes and focused on Much's face. "I do not like men," she announced in a slurred voice. It was obvious that the poppy was taking effect already.

"I am not like other men," Much responded promptly.

She smiled at him and touched his hand. "Good. Perhaps I will like you." She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep. Much stared at her for a moment before he pulled his chair closer to the bed. He reached over and took her hand in his once more. It would not do for her to wake up and be frightened.

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