Epic Short Fic: The Devil You Know (Part 2)

[ladyarcherfan3.livejournal.com]

Title: "The Devil You Know
Author: ladyarcherfan3
Word Count: 11,335 total, 1,383 this part
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Characters/Pairings: Robin, the gang, Gisborne, the Sheriff, Robin/Marian, OC
Spoilers/Warnings: Drug induced hallucinations; set between S1 and S2
Summary: A confrontation with a revengeful element of his past sends Robin into a world where nightmares and memories blend into something far more terrifying than either.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood and related characters are not mine, I'm making no money from this. 
Thanks to my beta auroracat65

  
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Part 2 - Plans

Robin woke with a soft gasp. For a moment the world twisted and heaved around him as reality and dream battled for the upper hand, but the cool breeze settled him. The wind, wet and green, was so unlike the harsh, hot wind of his nightmares that it helped him leave behind the ghosts of the past faster than anything else. He sat up, feeling a phantom ache in his side with the movement. His nightmares would come and go as they would, a lingering punishment for his part in the Holy War; yet, an image of a white cross still hung in his mind’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was from a dream memory or simply the sight of it the day before that had caused it to be the center of this particular nightmare. Robin scrubbed his hand through his hair to chase away the remaining effects of disturbed sleep and stood stiffly. 

Much was working by the fire, preparing porridge for breakfast. He watched Robin out of the corner of his eye as the outlaw leader stretched and went around to the rest of the gang, waking those that were still asleep. Much shook his head slightly; Robin’s nightmare had been obvious to him, who had seen his master plagued by such night terrors more times than he could count. And it always seemed that some of their worst adventures occurred the day after a nightmare. The worst of all had been the time of the King’s birthday and the whole affair of Gisborne’s tattoo and the attack on the King in Acre. That particular incident was the worst thus far, though the time where Much nearly died in a stream held a close second for the man.

Much shivered again at the thought of his near drowning. It had all started with Robin demanding to play capture the flag with one of Gisborne’s banners. And it was not just any banner, but one hanging over the hearth in the manor itself. The banner was secured, but Robin and Much literally had the guards breathing down their necks as they ran out of Locksley. The escape route included a stream crossing. Robin had cleared the narrow span of water with ease, but Much had slipped as he jumped and fell in. The water hadn’t been very deep, certainly not over his head, but it was fast flowing and he could not get his feet back under him. Robin had heard his gurgled cries for help and pounded downstream in an attempt to head Much off. The gaurds gave up soon after, and Robin pulled the thoroughly soaked and terrified Much from the water. The incident had been laughed off, but Much never forgot it. No doubt about it, Robin had to be watched closely after he had nightmares.

At the moment, though, Robin was not showing the normal signs of frantic mischief he normally displayed. If nothing else he was rather subdued. Much shrugged his shoulder slightly; he’d keep an eye on Robin, nonetheless. 

During breakfast, the gang sat through the normal listing of tasks that had to be accomplished that day, and which villages had to be visited. As he finished, Robin’s face darkened slightly and he paused before continuing. 

“As you’re out and about, lads, keep an eye out for a black gypsy wagon.”

Allan snorted in amusement.  “Lookin’ to have your fortune read?”

“It has a white cross painted on the door, and the driver wears robes like a monk.” 

“So, a Hospitaller?” Djaq hazarded.

Robin shook his head. “It looks like it, but I don’t think so. Someone who wants people to think he is one. I saw it last night, but wasn’t sure if I should follow it. But I think we should find out who he is and what he’s doing here.” 

Much shifted uneasily as the description was painted. Just the mention of the Hospitallers was enough to send his thoughts spinning back to the Holy Land; Robin’s nightmare was explained now. He was relieved that at least his master wasn’t planning something along the lines of stealing the Sheriff’s silk pajamas to beat the success of stealing Gisborne’s banner, but following this possibly false monk might not be the best idea either. 

Robin was in Nettleston that afternoon when he finally spotted the wagon. It was rolling out of the village away from him as he broke the cover of Sherwood. Instinctively, he broke into a run, wanting to follow it. After a few moments he slowed, considering his options. The wagon had obviously just been in the village; he could pick up intelligence there. Despite what Much and Marian said about him, he did often than not make a plan before launching himself into a situation. It was not his fault no battle plan survived contact with the enemy. 

“Owen,” Robin said as he trotted up to the miller.

The man was standing defensively in front of his home, watching the wagon trundle down the road. At the sight of the outlaw, he relaxed slightly. “Hello Robin. What brings you to Nettleston?”

Robin nodded down the road. “At the moment, that wagon. Do you know anything about it?”

Owen shook his head, but answered. “Not very much. The man claimed he was a . . . Hospitaller. . . yes, that was the word. He said he had herbs and medicines to sell. Between you and the Nightwatchman, no one needed anything. So we sent him on his way.”

“Right.” Robin nodded, his thoughts turned inwards. “If you hear anything else about it, let either me or my gang know.”  

“Do you think he’s trouble?” 

“I don’t know – and that bothers me.” Robin sighed and turned the conversation to less shadowed subjects. “So I see the mill is fully operational again!”

Owen smiled and launched into a full description of the repairs and the small celebration the village was planning for it. Robin pushed all thoughts of the wagon and the Hospitaller to the back of his mind, though  he hoped the lads had more luck finding information on it.

“I saw that wagon o’ yours today, Robin,” Allan declared that night as the gang gathered back at camp. “Was at Clun,” he continued with relish, knowing that he had an audience, “The driver was this biggish bloke with a limp. Well, I say biggish, but he weren’t taller than John, maybe almost as wide. But he looked like it, the way he stood and walked; you had to look twice to notice the limp.” 

“Did you find out what he wanted or what he was doing?” Robin demanded. 

Allan shrugged. “’E seemed pretty harmless. Said he was a ‘Ospitaller, wondered if anyone needed medicines, herbs.” 

Robin noticed that both Much and Djaq responded to the mention of a Hospitaller. “What?” he asked, looking intently from one to the other.

Djaq shrugged slightly. “I knew of the Hospitallers – my father worked with several when I was young. I just did not think to hear of them in England.” 

“Is that where you learned to speak English, from the Hospitallers?” Will asked.

Djaq smiled and nodded.

Robin smiled himself at learning this bit of Djaq’s history, but turned to Much. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry. 

“It’s nothing, Master,” Much claimed. “It’s just . . . well, from what Allan said, this Hospitaller sounds a bit like Lucian. Except, Lucian didn’t limp when I saw him, but . . .” Much paused, looking at Robin a bit expectantly. “Don’t you remember Lucian, Master?” 

Robin shook his head. The description and name did nothing to dispel the shadows that shrouded whatever memories he might have had. “You would have remembered the Hospitallers better than I would have Much, considering the state I was in when they were around.” His voice and face closed suddenly, leaving no room for further discussion. 

Much, about to retort, closed his mouth rapidly enough to snap his teeth together. To the amazement of rest of the gang, he did not press the issue. 

“Did this Lucian mention where he was going next?” Robin turned to Allan.

 “Yeah, ‘e did. Locksley. Planned to stay there tonight and tomorrow, maybe the next day.”  

“Well,” Robin said slowly, “that’s where we’ll be tomorrow.”

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