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It was raining when Robin stepped out of the cave just before dawn, but he needed to clear his head and almost welcomed the icy drops that fell upon his face. His dreams had been a landscape of disjointed scenes that made no sense: An unconscious Little John having a pentagram scrubbed off his chest; a girl with dark hair writing symbols on a piece of parchment; a group of soldiers, with an assortment of shields and tabards, who seemed to stare back at Robin with lifeless eyes; a tall figure in a hooded cloak affixing a note to a barn post with a dagger; a cold, austere man in black robes, whose very presence was unsettling enough to thrust Robin into wakefulness. It was only then as Robin had sat bolt upright in the dim light of the cave, that he’d known he’d had a vision.

Was the vision a warning? If it was, Robin couldn’t imagine what it foretold. While living as an outlaw always had its share of risks, Robin couldn’t think of any immediate hazard that they were about to face – quite the opposite, in fact. They would be heading to Bildesthorp that day to help build levees to protect the village from flooding. With the recent rainfall and the winter snow that had just melted, the River Trent was expected to overflow. It would be hard work that would involve its own set of challenges, but Robin didn’t believe his vision could be a portent for anything that was likely to happen in Bildesthorp.

Robin was about to head back inside the cave when a hand on his sleeve startled him. Then he smiled sheepishly when he turned and saw Marion standing at his elbow.

“I’m sorry,” Robin said. “I didn’t hear you approach.”

“No, I’m the one who should apologize.” Marion frowned. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t you sleep?”

“I had a vision, but I don’t know what it means.”

“Do you wish to speak about it?” Marion asked.

Robin grimaced. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Was it a warning?”

“Yes,” Robin said, “but I couldn’t tell you what the threat might be.”

Marion squeezed Robin’s arm gently. “Then I suppose we shall just have to face it when it comes – as we always do.” She smiled. “Come back inside the cave where it’s warmer. The others should be awake soon.”

After breaking their fast, the outlaws prepared to leave the cave. Will and Nasir had collected the coins that they would distribute to the villagers, while Marion sorted through different herbs that the village wise woman might need. Much saw to it that their waterskins were full, and Tuck made certain that they had plenty of food for the journey to Bildesthorp. If Matthew of Wickham had arrived just a few minutes later, he might have missed the outlaws, but Matthew appeared at the cave mere moments before the outlaws were about to depart.

Cheeks flushed and breathless, Matthew said, “I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you before you left. Father found this in the barn this morning. He didn’t know what else to do with it other than give it to you.” Matthew handed Robin a dirty and rather creased piece of paper, and Robin remembered what he’d seen in his vision.

“Matthew, was this fixed to a barn post with a dagger?” Robin asked.

Matthew’s eyes widened. “How did you know that? Father didn’t want me carrying the dagger in case I ran across a forester. He’s got it back in the village.”

Will laid a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “Tell your father to keep it well ’idden. The Sheriff’s new deputy is even worse than Gisburne was about that sort of thing.”

Matthew nodded soberly. “I’ll tell him, Uncle Will.”

Will ruffled Matthew’s hair. “’Course you will.”

John nudged Robin, who was studying the note with a look of intense concentration on his face. “So, what’s it say, lad?”

“It says, ‘Robin Hood, meet me at the Abbey of Saint Margaret. Come alone. The fate of England depends on you’.”

“‘The fate of England depends on you’!” Will cried. “It sounds like complete ’ogwash to me!”

Much peered over Robin’s shoulder. “Who sent it?”

“I don’t know,” Robin said. “There’s no name.”

Will snorted. “Then it’s a trick.”

“Or a madman,” John muttered.

Robin frowned as he examined the writing. Although he didn’t recognize the hand, he had his suspicions. If the paper had been of finer quality and the handwriting more refined, Robin might have suspected that the note had been dictated by the Sheriff to one of his clerks. The Abbey of Saint Margaret had been the Sheriff’s choice for a meeting place when he had coerced Robin into rescuing his nephew in exchange for Much, so it made sense for the Sheriff to choose it a second time if he wanted to enlist Robin’s help. But why conceal his identity? He hadn’t the last time. In fact, the Sheriff hadn’t bothered writing a message at all but had simply left word with Much’s grandfather, knowing that would be enough. But if it hadn’t been the Sheriff then who could it have been? Whoever it was had to know Robin well enough to be sure that he’d receive a note left for him in Wickham. It also seemed likely that this same person knew about the meeting that had taken place between him and Sheriff at the Abbey of Saint Margaret, but Robin could think of only one man who fit that description, and he was certain that man was dead.

“You know who it is, don’t you?” Marion said.

Robin looked up from the note to find everyone watching him.

“Of course ’e knows who it is. It’s the Sheriff. It’s got to be.” Will looked smug as his friends stared at him in surprise. “Well, it stands to reason, doesn’t it? Who else would think to leave a note for Robin in Wickham or choose the Abbey of Saint Margaret as a meeting place?”

“He’s right,” John said. “It has to be the Sheriff.”

Nasir seemed less convinced. “Why would the Sheriff hide his identity?”

“Maybe he was afraid someone would find the note and know it was him,” Much said.

John leaned down and quietly said to Much, “There’s no one round here who could read it besides Robin, Tuck, and Marion.”

Much smiled, looking abashed. “Oh, right, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Still,” Tuck said, “I believe that Much could be on to something. Whoever sent that note wanted to keep his identity a secret.” He rested his weight on his staff as he considered the matter. “Sending such a note seems overly dramatic, even for the Sheriff, yet whoever sent it must be familiar enough with our habits to know that such a note would reach Robin if it were left in Wickham. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think–”

“The identity of the man who sent the note isn’t important,” Robin said, “though I believe the message is. Whoever sent the note believes that England is being threatened. I think I should meet him.”

Will laughed. “You’re not serious! If that note’s from the Sheriff, it’s bound to be a trap. Even if it isn’t, it’s a stupid risk to take.”

Robin smiled. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’m going alone.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Marion said.

“But the note said–”

Marion glared at Robin. “I don’t care what the note said!”

Attempting to soothe Marion, John placed a large hand on her back. Then he turned to Robin. “We could hide near the ruins the same way we did last time. That way we’d be close if there’s trouble.”

Robin sighed. “You’re forgetting the people of Bildesthorp. We promised we’d help them.” Seeing that Marion was about to argue, Robin gently laid a finger against her lips. “I can join you in Bildesthorp afterwards.”

“But what if there’s danger?” Much asked. “What will you do then?”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to run as hard as I can to Bildesthorp,” Robin said. He winked at Much, who grinned in return.

John was shaking his head. “I don’t like it.”

“I can’t say I’m all that happy about it either, but I believe I should go.”

“You knew where the note had been left in Wickham,” Marion said. “Was it a vision?”

Robin nodded. “That’s why I think it’s important to go.” He looked at the others, who still seemed skeptical. “I’ll join you in Bildesthorp as soon as I can. Now you really should be leaving.”

“And there ’e goes again ordering us around like we were servants at ’Untingdon Castle.” Will adjusted the bag on his belt and slapped Robin on the back as he walked past. “I sure ’ope you know what you’re doing.”

Choosing to be civil, Nasir simply said, “Be careful, Robin.”

Robin had just hugged Marion and bid goodbye to John and Much when he found himself alone with Tuck, who appeared to be checking the provisions he had packed.

“You don’t really think it’s the Sheriff, do you?” Tuck said.

“No, I don’t.”

“Then do you think it could be–”

“It seems impossible, but…”

“But?” Tuck asked.

Robin rubbed the back of his neck. “Somehow, I know it’s him.”

“Come on, Tuck!” Will shouted. “The journey ’asn’t even begun yet, and you’re already lagging behind!”

Tuck raised his eyes heavenward as if seeking spiritual strength. “Despite what is said in Matthew about resolving conflicts with one’s brother in private, guard yourself and watch your back.”

Robin patted Tuck on the shoulder. “Pleasant journey to you and may Herne protect you.”

“Aye,” Tuck said. “Herne protect you as well, Robin.”

As Robin walked across the long stretch of heath leading to the Abbey of Saint Margaret, his eyes searched the leafless trees, barren bushes, and stark rocks for any signs of hidden soldiers, but he could see none. Of course, at the hostage exchange with the Sheriff, there had been a guard with a crossbow hidden in the ruins, so it was probably the meeting place itself that would hold the most peril.

Much like the last time, the sky was a leaden grey, and the bare branches of the trees creaked. As Robin approached the abbey, a gust of wind whipped his hair in his face, momentarily blinding him. Then, as Robin brushed away the fair strands, he saw a man he almost didn’t recognize step out from the arch where a door had once stood.

Gisburne was thinner now with longer hair and unshaven cheeks. He also appeared to possess a limp, though he could walk without the aid of a stick. However, it was the lack of coldness in Gisburne’s eyes that marked the most drastic change. Gisburne regarded Robin with a calm, almost resigned expression.

“So, it is you,” Robin said.

Gisburne jerked his chin in acknowledgment. “Wolfshead.”

“I was under the impression that you’d died, Gisburne.”

Gisburne gave a quick, mirthless smile. “I nearly did.”

“What do you want?” Robin asked.

Gisburne hesitated for an instant and then sighed. “I need your help.”

Robin stared at Gisburne in disbelief. “You need my help? After everything you’ve done? After becoming a Knight of the Apocalypse and allying yourself with a man like Guichard de Montbalm?”

“I don’t ask it for myself but for England,” Gisburne said. “Its fate is in your hands.”

“You didn’t seem concerned about the fate of England when Baphomet wanted to seize power and wield control over everything. Why should you feel differently now?”

“Because the Baron has no interest in ruling England; he wants to raze it to the ground.”

“Baron?” Robin asked. “Which baron?”

“The Baron de Belleme.”

Robin remembered the man with the detached, contemptuous smile from his vision and was unable to conceal a slight shudder. If the man Robin had seen was the Baron de Belleme, it would explain why he’d felt such alarm and revulsion.

“I see you’ve heard of him,” Gisburne said.

Robin tried to banish the image of Belleme from his mind and failed. “Yes, I’ve heard of him and none of the stories have been good.”

Gisburne snorted. “Well, if you can believe it, he’s become even more deranged. It was one thing when he was summoning demons, but the army he’s been gathering–”

“Army!” Stunned, Robin gaped at Gisburne. He might have questioned Gisburne’s own sanity if he’d been able to detect even a hint of madness in Gisburne’s eyes, or if Gisburne’s tone of voice hadn’t been quite so serious. However, something in Robin’s reaction must have made Gisburne assume the opposite.

“You think I’m mad,” Gisburne said. “I can hardly blame you. There have been days when I’ve wondered the same thing myself.” He gazed at the miles of open land that surrounded them. “I don’t know what I can say that will convince you.”

“You could try the truth. You might be surprised.” Robin walked over to a section of low, crumbling wall and took a seat on the rough stone. From where he sat, he could see the flicker of a horse’s tail and then spotted Gisburne’s destrier grazing on the far side of the ruins.

“I was badly wounded at the battle that took place at the Preceptory of St. John,” Gisburne said as he made his way slowly to Robin. “My leg bled so freely, I was certain I would die.” He winced as he went to mount the wall, and then his eyes widened as Robin grasped his arm and helped him up.

“When you didn’t return to Nottingham, we thought you’d died,” Robin said.

Gisburne grimaced. “There were times when I wished I had rather than be Belleme’s prisoner. If it hadn’t been for Rashida…”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Rashida?”

Gisburne blushed. “She’s a girl the Baron took in. I suppose she’s a witch, though he treats her like a daughter. I’ll…I’ll come back to her.”

“All right,” Robin said. “How did you end up as Belleme’s prisoner? Did he capture you after the battle?”

Gisburne gave a bitter laugh. “‘Collected’ might be a better word for it. The Baron came and collected the bodies of the soldiers after the battle. I must have been so close to the death that I was thought to be a body too.”

Robin eyed Gisburne in confusion. “Why was Belleme collecting the bodies after the battle? He doesn’t strike me as being the type of man who would be willing to tend to the dead and concern himself with Christian burial. What was he even doing at the Preceptory?”

Gisburne was staring off into the distance. “He learned there would be a battle, so he went there in search of men for his army.”

“He obviously arrived a bit late if he found only bodies,” Robin said.

Gisburne’s head turned sharply. “No, he found exactly what he was looking for.”

Robin felt a cold chill go through him. No, he must have misunderstood. Gisburne couldn’t possibly be suggesting what he thought he was suggesting. “Are you saying that the Baron de Belleme was assembling an army of the dead?”

“Yes,” Gisburne said. “Not satisfied with resurrecting himself alone, the Baron began resurrecting dead soldiers as well.”

Robin found himself gripping the solid stone beneath him. “He had intended to resurrect you?”

“Yes, but Rashida realized I wasn’t dead and persuaded the Baron to let her treat my wound. I suppose the Baron didn’t think much of my chances and assumed I would probably die anyway, so he granted Rashida’s request. When I woke, I found I’d been placed in her care, and she ended up nursing me back to health.”

“‘Rashida’ is not a name one usually hears on these shores,” Robin said. Then he remembered the girl from his vision with the long, dark hair and realized that this might very well have been Rashida as she looked as if she could be of Saracen blood.

With his next words, Gisburne confirmed Robin’s suspicions. “Rashida’s father was a Saracen merchant who often sailed to England to ply his trade. As Rashida’s mother had died, she would travel with him. When Rashida was still a child, her father’s boat got caught in a storm near Castle Belleme and was torn apart. Rashida’s father drowned, but Rashida managed to cling to one of the planks and was brought to shore by the waves. The Baron found Rashida the next day and brought her to the castle. She’s been with him ever since.”

“Then the Baron adopted this girl?” Robin asked.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Gisburne said. “It’s difficult to say. Sometimes Belleme treats Rashida like a daughter but then orders her around like a servant. Although Rashida is grateful to the Baron for taking her in, she knows that his plan cannot be allowed to succeed. I suppose that’s why she agreed to let me leave the castle to seek help.”

“Against this army of dead soldiers?”

“Yes.”

“And you came to me?”

Gisburne hung his head. “I…I didn’t know who else to go to. You wolfsheads seem to know of such things as witchcraft and sorcery, and you live in Sherwood with Herne, the so-called forest god. I just assumed…”

“Yes?” Robin asked.

“That you’d know how to defeat this army.” Gisburne raised his eyes again to study Robin’s face. “I can’t tell if you’re humouring me because you think I’m mad, or if you actually believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” Robin said. “I’ll admit that I didn’t at first, but I’m convinced now that you’re telling the truth, unless you have men in the hills who are waiting to ambush me.”

Gisburne scowled. “Have you not been listening to me? I no longer have any men to command.”

Robin nodded, his eyes on the heath rather than Gisburne. “Then I’m willing to help you.”

Gisburne’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath. “That was much easier than I thought it would be. I was sure you wouldn’t believe me and that you certainly wouldn’t want to help me.”

Robin had slipped down from the wall. “Well, you made a very compelling argument, Gisburne – or, rather, the argument was made for you.” He pointed to a line of trees standing to the west, and it took a moment for Gisburne to perceive that he was seeing more than simply tree trunks, and that there was movement that could not be accounted for by the wind blowing branches. Some of Belleme’s soldiers appeared to have found them.

“God’s Blood,” Gisburne said. “I thought it would take them longer to track me down.”

Robin seized Gisburne by the front of his tunic and pulled him off the wall. “You knew they were pursuing you, and you brought them here? What if they had ended up in one of the villages?”

Gisburne shoved Robin’s hand away. “The Baron would have sent them out at some point, whether it was in pursuit of me or not. Be thankful he didn’t send more men. This isn’t even a platoon.”

As Robin had counted at least 15 men, he didn’t feel particularly thankful. Then the meaning of Gisburne’s words hit him. “Wait, are you saying there are more of these soldiers?”

“Last I heard, the Baron had close to 150 men.”

“But Castle Belleme is practically in ruins!” Robin cried. “Where does the Baron keep them all? How does he feed them?”

“They’re being kept in the cellars,” Gisburne said. “As for feeding them, it’s not something that should concern you; the dead don’t require food.” Gisburne glanced nervously at the group of soldiers who were now clearly visible and moving towards them. “Must we discuss this now? I’d rather not be killed if possible.”

“Get to your horse. I’ll hold them off.”

“But–”

“Do it!” Robin said.

Gisburne opened his mouth again as if to argue but then shook his head instead and began hobbling towards his horse.

Robin climbed up into the ruins, reached into his quiver, and nocked an arrow. The soldiers were about 500 feet away. Robin knew he could probably hit one of them from this distance, but he waited for them to draw nearer. When the soldiers were a good 200 feet closer, Robin chose a target, drew back his bowstring, and released the arrow. The arrow hit one of the soldiers square in the chest, and Robin waited for the man to fall to the ground, only he didn’t; he kept walking. Robin quickly nocked a second arrow on his bowstring and fired at another soldier’s head. The tip embedded itself in the soldier’s forehead, yet the soldier didn’t even flinch.

“Get down from there!” Gisburne shouted from below. He was mounted on his horse a few feet from the ruins. “It’s no use! Arrows can’t harm them: nothing can!”

Cursing under his breath, Robin descended the crumbling stairs. “You could have mentioned that before you went to fetch your horse!”

“I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen!” Gisburne leaned forward in the saddle and stretched out his hand to Robin. “Get on my horse before we’re both killed!”

As Belleme’s band of corpse soldiers were barely 20 feet away from them, Robin grabbed Gisburne’s hand and allowed Gisburne to lift him onto his horse’s back. The only course that lay open to them was to evade these men.

Gisburne rode to the nearest stream as Belleme’s soldiers apparently disliked water. They would cross it if they had to, but they preferred to avoid it. As Gisburne had been right about the arrows, Robin didn’t argue with him. Besides, he knew Gisburne’s horse needed to be watered and that he should fill his waterskin.

Gisburne sank down on the ground and winced as he felt a twinge of pain in his leg. “Once my horse has rested and drunk his fill, we’ll make our way to Sherwood.”

“No,” Robin said.

Gisburne’s brow creased. “No? I don’t understand. Don’t you wish to gather your men?”

Robin rose from where he’d crouched by the stream to fill his waterskin. “When you asked me to meet you, you told me to come alone.”

Gisburne rolled his eyes. “Yes, because I thought I stood a better chance of convincing you to help me if I met you alone. I also knew that it would be easier to fight against one man if you didn’t believe me and decided to turn against me instead. Naturally, I assumed that if you agreed to help me, we’d be working with those wolfsheads.”

Robin sat down on the ground across from Gisburne. “They’re needed elsewhere. They’ve gone to Bildesthorp to help the villagers build levees for when the river floods.”

“But surely this is more important than the Trent flooding its banks,” Gisburne said.

“Not to the people of Bildesthorp it isn’t. Besides, you saw how little effect my arrows had on Belleme’s soldiers. I don’t see what my friends could do, even if we were to ask them for help.”

Gisburne sighed. “Then what’s the plan? Do we simply keep evading them?”

“And lead them straight back to Belleme, yes.”

“To what end?” Gisburne cried. “I’ve just come from Castle Belleme! I could have saved myself a journey if I’d known that you intended to do nothing!”

Robin gazed calmly at Gisburne. “Leading them back to Belleme isn’t nothing. I intend to force Belleme to lift his spell from those men.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Gisburne asked.

“I suppose I’ll just have to think of a way to convince him,” Robin said.

Gisburne gritted his teeth in frustration and looked away. “Tell me that you at least plan to see Herne.”

“I’ve already had a vision, which is the reason why I was willing to leave my friends and meet you in the first place. If Herne wishes to guide me, he’ll seek me out.”

They made slower progress than either Robin or Gisburne would have liked. However, without a horse, Robin had to travel on foot. At least Gisburne was able to ride ahead to scout for any signs of Belleme’s corpse band. Robin hoped that what Gisburne had said was true and that he was their sole target. Although Robin fully intended to confront the Baron, he also wished to make the journey to Castle Belleme to lead these soldiers away from the villages or anyone else who might be unfortunate enough to encounter them. Robin didn’t know if he should be relieved or concerned that they had yet to come across these men a second time.

That night, they found some woods in which to set up camp. Robin had built a fire and was cooking the pheasant he had shot with his bow while Gisburne was busy removing his horse’s tack. After Gisburne had unbuckled the saddle, he brought his saddlebag over to the fire and started looking through it. Robin didn’t know what Gisburne was searching for, but he knew the instant Gisburne’s fingers made contact with something he wasn’t expecting to find as his shoulders stiffened, and he froze.

“What is it?” Robin said.

“I was searching for some salve to treat a saddle sore on my horse and found something else instead.” Gisburne drew out a small object that was no more than three to four inches in length. It appeared to be made of grass and twigs. Robin held out his hand, and Gisburne passed the object to him.

On closer inspection, Robin could see that the grass had been fashioned into a bundle that resembled a tiny body, complete with arms and legs. This bundle had been encased in willow twigs that had been woven around the grass to give it shape and hold it in place. Robin could discern no features on the tiny figure’s face, but he could only assume that it was a mommet.

“Did anyone other than you pack this saddlebag?” Robin asked.

“Just Rashida. She was the one who gave me the salve. Why?”

Robin’s eyes fell on the mommet again. “You said Rashida was a witch. I think she might have made this.” When Gisburne stared back at Robin in confusion, Robin said, “This is a mommet. Mommets are sometimes used by witches to cause harm to someone.”

“What?” Gisburne grabbed the mommet from Robin and threw it into the fire.

Robin grimaced as the burning willow twigs crackled. “Umm…I don’t think you should have done that.”

“Why not?” Gisburne cried. “You said it was being used to harm me!”

“I said that it might be intended to harm you, and if that’s true, you could have just made things worse by tossing it into the fire!”

Gisburne stood and started limping away.

“Where are you going?” Robin asked.

“I…I need to…” Gisburne threw up his hands and walked out of the camp.

Puzzled, Robin turned his attention back to the pheasant on the fire. He knew that with his leg injury, Gisburne wasn’t likely to go far, and he certainly wouldn’t leave the camp for good without his horse.

By the time Gisburne returned, Robin had nearly finished eating his portion of the meal. As Gisburne sat down before the fire, Robin offered him some of the pheasant, but Gisburne waved his hand in refusal and grumbled that he wasn’t hungry.

“We have many miles left to travel,” Robin said. “You should eat something.”

Gisburne rubbed a hand wearily across his face. “Yes, all right.”

Robin waited until Gisburne had consumed at least half of his meal before he dared to ask his question. “Do you wish to speak about it?”

Gisburne glanced at Robin in surprise, his mouth still full when he spoke. “Speak about what?”

“Rashida and the mommet.”

Gisburne snorted and took a sip from his waterskin. “What is there to speak about? I was stupid enough to trust her, and she betrayed me.”

As Robin studied Gisburne in the firelight, he noticed that behind the anger of Gisburne’s tone, there was pain as well. Gisburne was trying his best to hide it, but the hurt could be seen all too plainly in his eyes.

“You’re in love with her,” Robin said.

Gisburne almost choked on his pheasant. “What?”

Robin smiled. “Rashida. You love her.”

Gisburne scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset. It’s just that…She saved my life. I thought she…” Gisburne shook his head. “I thought she cared about me.”

“You do love her.”

“Look, how I feel about Rashida hardly matters now, does it? She obviously wishes to do me harm if she created that monstrosity!”

“Perhaps it’s not what it seems,” Robin said.

Gisburne glared at him. “She hid that thing at the bottom of my saddlebag because she didn’t want me to find it. I think it’s exactly what it seems.”

Robin sighed. “Yes, that is rather suspicious. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Gisburne muttered something under his breath and then took a long sip from his waterskin. “I’m not tired, so I’ll take the first watch.”

“Then I suppose I’ll turn in for the night,” Robin said. “Good night, Gisburne.”

Gisburne raised his waterskin in a silent toast. “Good night, Wolfshead.”

Robin was woken from a deep sleep when a hand landed on his shoulder and began to shake him. Robin grumbled and tried to ignore whoever was trying to drag him from his slumber.

“Wake up, you idiot! They’ve surrounded the camp!”

Robin got to his feet and scrambled for his sword and quiver, while Gisburne hobbled across the camp to tack his horse. Robin had just attached his scabbard to his belt when he heard leaves rustling and twigs snapping. Then six of Belleme’s corpse soldiers were bursting into the camp.

Robin reached for Albion and drew it from its scabbard. One of the soldiers lurched towards him, and Robin stepped forward to strike the man across the bicep. Robin had simply intended to repel his opponent, so his mouth fell open when flesh and muscle tore, and the soldier’s limb was left hanging. The soldier didn’t seem to notice; he kept advancing. This time, Robin ran Albion through the soldier’s chest and was barely able to free his sword before nearly being hit in the face by a chain mace. Then Robin was dodging another one of the Baron’s soldiers as the man attempted to grab him from behind. A third soldier entered the melee, and Albion was almost wrenched from Robin’s hand as he parried a blow from that man’s sword.

Seeing that his weapon was essentially useless, Robin’s eyes darted around the camp in search of some means to distract the soldiers long enough for he and Gisburne to escape. That was when Robin took in the campfire and had an idea. Acting on instinct, he picked up a branch and thrust it into the flames. Then, after setting the branch alight, Robin waved it in front of him, hoping to ward off Belleme’s men. To his relief, the soldiers backed away from him.

Robin glanced over his shoulder at Gisburne. “Is your horse saddled yet?”

“Almost,” Gisburne said. He was securing his horse’s bridle. “Can you hold them off a bit longer?”

“It looks like I’ll have to.” Robin swung the branch again as one of the soldiers tried to draw near. At first, Robin was able to keep the soldiers at bay but then two of the men broke off and attempted to sneak behind him. Robin sprang away from them, only to collide with one of the other men. Robin smacked the soldier with the branch, setting his tabard on fire. As the soldier jerked around wildly, Robin leapt over the campfire and out of reach. That was when nine additional men barged into the camp.

“Gisburne!” Robin shouted.

Gisburne rode across the glade wielding his sword and slashing at anything that approached him. More inured to battle than Robin, Gisburne seemed to have no qualms about hacking off limbs, though it probably helped that the men he was facing were already dead.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Gisburne said. “Get on the horse. We can’t afford to tarry here any longer.”

Weaving between the soldiers, two of whom were now on fire, Robin made his way to the horse. Gisburne held out his hand, and Robin grasped it, but before Gisburne could pull him up, Robin felt himself being wrenched away. He had been seized by his shoulders, his jerkin, and even his hair and yanked to the ground. Then Robin caught a glimpse of Gisburne’s horse rearing back on his hind legs, and one of the horse’s front hooves bashed in one of the soldier’s heads. An instant later, Gisburne had wheeled his horse around, and his sword was swinging. Robin saw the smashed head fly through the air and land beside him.

It took several swipes of Gisburne’s sword before Robin could tear himself away from his captors and jump on the back of Gisburne’s horse.

It was slow-going at first as they travelled through the denser vegetation of the woods, but the same thick foliage that delayed their progress also hindered Belleme’s men. Then they reached the road and were able to place miles between themselves and their pursuers.

After they’d covered ten miles, Robin knew he would need to acquire his own horse if they were to have any hope of staying ahead of Belleme’s men. It wasn’t long after they reached Bingham, and Gisburne stopped at a tavern to feed and water his horse, that a grey was literally handed to Robin.

Robin was standing outside the stables when a corpulent man wearing a fur-trimmed cloak arrived on a horse that only just seemed able to bear her master’s weight. Taking pity on the horse, Robin helped the man heft himself out of the saddle.

“Thank you, boy,” the man said. “See to it that this stupid, worthless beast is fed and watered.”

“Of course.” Robin took the horse’s bridle, led her to the stables, and began to remove her tack. It wasn’t until he raised the saddle that he noticed the lacerations on her withers and flanks.

“You poor girl,” Robin murmured. “It’s your master who’s the stupid, worthless beast, not you.” He stroked the horse’s neck and then took her to the water trough. The grey was still drinking when Gisburne crossed the stables to gather more hay and froze. Robin followed the direction of Gisburne’s gaze as Gisburne studied the horse’s injuries. Robin was surprised to see pity in Gisburne’s eyes before they were clouded by fury.

“Show me the bastard who did this, and I’ll pay him in kind.”

“I have a better idea,” Robin said. “Let’s rescue this lady instead. I have need of a horse.”

Gisburne laid his hand on the horse’s shoulder. “First, we need to treat these injuries.”

A couple of hours later, they were riding away from the tavern. The horse’s previous owner was so busy drinking that he didn’t even notice that his horse had left the stables, let alone been stolen. Not wishing to push the grey too hard – or overtax Gisburne’s horse, which had already ridden many miles – they agreed to travel at a slower pace. All the same, it was faster than walking, and it spared Gisburne’s horse from having to carry the weight of two men on those occasions when they needed to make a quick escape. Fortunately, they had not seen the corpse soldiers since the men had invaded their camp. Even so, Robin was taken aback when they heard high-pitched screams coming from the shepherd’s hut they had just passed.

Robin halted his horse. “That couldn’t possibly be them, could it?”

Gisburne glanced over his shoulder and sighed. “It’s them.”

“But we were ahead of them and covered the journey on horseback!”

“We also stopped in Bingham for a couple of hours, and Belleme’s soldiers have no need for rest.”

Robin wheeled his horse around. “We have to go back and help that shepherd and his family.”

“It may already be too late,” Gisburne said.

Robin urged on his horse and galloped to the shepherd’s hut. As Gisburne needed his help, Robin assumed he would follow. Sure enough, Gisburne’s horse had soon overtaken his.

When they arrived at the shepherd’s hut, Robin leapt from his horse and ran into the ramshackle dwelling. The first things to meet Robin’s eyes were an overturned table and clay shards from a cup and some bowls. Then he spotted half of Belleme’s corpse unit, including the soldier whose arm was hanging by only a few sinews. The soldiers’ backs were to him, and they seemed to be searching for something. Unfortunately, Robin had a pretty good idea of what that was. At least there was no sign of the shepherd and his family, which most likely meant that they’d fled as soon as they were able. Gisburne must have reached the same conclusion when he entered the hut as he took Robin by the arm and led him outside.

“The shepherd and his family must have fled,” Gisburne said. “We should do the same.”

“And what if the shepherd and his family return, and the soldiers are still here?” Robin asked.

Before Gisburne had the chance to respond, one of the soldiers – a man who was taller and brawnier than he was – had appeared behind him, wrapped a large hand around his throat, and lifted him clear off the ground. It all happened so quickly that Robin couldn’t even call out a warning.

As Gisburne’s arms flailed and his legs kicked futilely at the air, Robin withdrew his sword, intending to cut off the soldier’s arm or, at least, incapacitate him. However, Robin quickly realized that if he tried to do so, he would risk injuring Gisburne. Unable to think of any other solution, Robin rushed to his horse to fetch his waterskin. It seemed like the best course of action as they had successfully eluded the soldiers that first time by heading for a stream.

When Robin returned, he saw that Gisburne’s lips had started to turn blue, and his limbs were moving less vigorously. Robin yanked the stopper from the waterskin and hurled water at the soldier. Most of the water landed on Gisburne, but enough must have hit the soldier as he released Gisburne and reeled back. Gisburne coughed and spluttered from where he lay on the ground, but he barely had a chance to recover before Robin grabbed him and hauled him to his feet. Robin ran for the horses, pulling a stumbling Gisburne with him. Once they were atop their horses, Robin made to ride towards the trees he could see on the other side of the hill, but Gisburne reached out a hand to stop him.

“We should keep to the road,” Gisburne said, his voice a raspy croak. “There’s a ford up ahead.”

Robin nodded and they rode in that direction instead.

To not strain the horses, they rode at a canter. As the soldiers were on foot, Robin assumed that they could keep ahead of Belleme’s men and that the ford might slow the soldiers’ progress. Then Robin looked behind him and saw that four of the corpse band had managed to acquire horses and were quickly gaining ground.

“Gisburne…”

“I see them,” Gisburne said. “Do you think you can push the mare harder. If we reach the ford, it should deter them.”

“I can try.” Robin squeezed his calves gently, and his horse started to move more quickly.

As Gisburne had predicted, it didn’t take them long to reach the ford. For an instant, it seemed that the soldiers weren’t willing to pursue them across the water, but then one of them began to make his way towards it.

Holding his breath, Robin watched as first the horse’s front legs, and then its hind legs, entered the water. The horse seemed nervous as if it feared either the water or the rider on its back.

“We need to go,” Gisburne said.

Robin shook his head. “Not yet.”

“He’s almost crossed the ford!”

Robin couldn’t be sure what it was that spooked the horse, but its nostrils flared, its ears pricked, and it reared, knocking the soldier out of the saddle and submerging him. The man’s rotting face burst out of the ford, and his arms splashed furiously, but he seemed unable to stand. After that, his frantic movements slowed and then ceased as his body slid back under the water. The other soldiers backed their horses away from the ford and looked as if they had no intention of crossing it.

“Now can we leave?” Gisburne asked.

“Yes,” Robin said. “We shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

They rode another eight miles before they decided that the horses needed to rest and they should set up camp for the night.

During the ride, Robin had pondered what had happened at the ford and why water had been enough to return that soldier to the grave. Robin could understand why fire and decapitation had vanquished those other soldiers, but the water in the ford hadn’t been so deep as to drown the man, not when he should have been capable of standing. The soldier’s head had been above water when his body truly returned to being a corpse again and Belleme’s hold over him had ended.

“How does Belleme control his soldiers?” Robin asked. “How did he cast the spell?”

Gisburne looked up in surprise as he sat cleaning his sword. “You think I know? I wasn’t there when any of it happened. I tried asking Rashida about it, but she thought it better I didn’t know.”

“But she did tell you that water would protect you.”

“Yes, water and fire, though water is something I’ve come across more on this journey than fire,” Gisburne said. “It never occurred to me to set one of them alight as you did. Fire did kill both of those men, didn’t it? I don’t remember seeing them at the shepherd’s hut, and I think it would have been fairly obvious if they’d been there.”

“And then there was the soldier at the ford. Water was enough to end his life – for good.” Robin began to pare the bark off one of the branches he had chosen for a spit. “Have you noticed anything about Belleme’s men that has seemed strange?”

“You mean, other than the fact that they’re walking around when they should be dead?” Gisburne asked.

Robin fought the urge to smile. “Yes, other than that.”

The cloth in Gisburne’s hand stilled, and he stared at the blade of his sword. “There is one thing I found curious. They all seem to wear these small pouches around their necks. They’re kept hidden under their tabards, but I caught Rashida bestowing one to a new…recruit. She told me that the Baron had ordered her to do it but said that, for my sake, she would say no more. Do you think that’s significant?”

For some reason, Robin suddenly remembered the vision he’d had in which Loxley had washed that pentagram from John’s chest. “Yes,” Robin said. “I think it could be significant. You said Rashida was ordered to place that pouch around the one soldier’s neck. Does that mean she helped Belleme cast the spell?”

Gisburne nodded glumly. “Yes.”

“We need to speak to her. If she helped Belleme with the spell, she might know how to break it.”

Gisburne frowned. “She won’t betray him. She says she owes him her life. And you saw what she left in my saddlebag–”

“We still don’t know what Rashida’s intentions were,” Robin said. “Why allow you to go for help, only to try to hurt you?”

Closing his eyes, Gisburne bowed his head. “Perhaps it was her intention to hurt me all along.”

“Then why risk Belleme’s wrath to do so?” Robin asked. “If she simply wished to harm you, she could have done that at the castle. It would have been easier, and she wouldn’t be exposing herself to danger.”

Gisburne’s head jerked up. “Danger?”

“Well, yes, if Rashida allowed you to escape, the Baron isn’t likely to be pleased. I assume you were her responsibility, and she was meant to be watching you.”

“God in heaven,” Gisburne muttered. “We thought that if I slipped away in the night, it would look as if Rashida knew nothing of my plans.”

“Well, perhaps Rashida was able to convince Belleme that she knew nothing.” Robin set aside the branch he had been working on and picked up another. “If she felt that she was not acting against the Baron directly, do you think she might help us?”

Gisburne ran a hand across his forehead. “I don’t know. I-I don’t know what to think.”

“You said Rashida knows that what Belleme is doing is wrong,” Robin said. “Surely, she wishes to stop him from carrying out his plan.” He sighed as Gisburne shook his head. “Well, we have to try. As I see it, she’s our best hope of defeating him.

After travelling a full day, Castle Belleme was finally within sight. As the sun began to set, they could see it in the distance upon a crag overlooking the sea. Despite its battered walls and crumbling battlements, the castle still managed to dominate the landscape and had a formidable, almost forbidding air about it.

Robin glanced at Gisburne, who had grown increasingly sullen and tense the closer they got to their destination. “You know this castle. Will the Baron have guards posted? Can you get us inside without alerting any of the soldiers?”

“Oh, I can get us inside,” Gisburne said. “I just don’t know if I’ll be able to get us out again.”

“Should we wait until nightfall?” Robin asked.

Gisburne shrugged. “It won’t make much difference as far as the soldiers are concerned as they don’t sleep, but it would be wise if we waited until the Baron is abed before entering the castle.”

“I don’t suppose you know when he’ll retire.”

“It’ll be late. If we wish to avoid the Baron, it would be better to wait until just before first light. We’ll be able to enter the castle under the cover of darkness.”

“All right,” Robin said. “We’ll set up camp in that copse over there. We can at least have supper and try to get some sleep before then.”

After they’d set up camp, Robin offered to take the first watch, but Gisburne said that he might as well be the one to stay up as he was unlikely to sleep that night.

Studying Gisburne slyly, Robin asked, “Are you worried about facing the Baron and his men or Rashida?”

When Robin received only a glare in response, he assumed their conversation was over. Therefore, he was surprised when after he lay down to go to sleep, Gisburne spoke again. “How did you know that Marion was in love with you? Did she…give you any signs?”

Robin grinned to himself. “Does Rashida smile when she is around you and enjoy being in your company? Are there times when she cannot take her eyes off you? Do you find it easy to talk to each other, and does she seem to trust you? Does time fade away when you are with her? You’re blushing, so I assume the answer is yes.”

“It’s too dark for you to tell whether I’m blushing or not,” Gisburne said, “so I’ve given you no answer.”

Robin sat up on one elbow. “I can see your face in the firelight. Even if I couldn’t, you know I’m right. You wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t have some notion that it’s true.”

Gisburne rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep, Wolfshead.”

Robin knew he should let the subject rest, but he couldn’t resist one final rejoinder. “You should be the one getting sleep, Gisburne. You don’t want to have bags under your eyes when you see your sweetheart again.”

Gisburne threw a stick at him and Robin laughed.

It was still dark when Robin and Gisburne entered the gateway to the castle. Robin had expected to see guards posted, but Gisburne pointed out that few visited Castle Belleme willingly. Besides, guards drew attention to Belleme, who wished to plot in secret. Robin thought that by sending fifteen corpses to track down Gisburne, Belleme was already drawing attention to himself, but he decided to share this thought aloud.

There were men patrolling the bailey. They might have run smack into three of them if Gisburne hadn’t pulled Robin back and pressed himself against a wall. It wasn’t until they had disappeared around a storehouse that Gisburne deemed it safe to continue.

“We should be able to sneak in through the kitchens while those men are patrolling the other buildings,” Gisburne whispered. Then he made his way to that entrance as quickly as his limp would allow.

They had decided that they would seek out Rashida first, which meant going to her chamber as she was probably asleep. Robin found it interesting that Gisburne had no trouble finding Rashida’s room and wondered if he’d visited it before. Once they were standing outside the chamber, Gisburne seemed to steel himself before rapping quietly on the wooden door. When it opened, they were met by a dark-haired girl, wearing nothing more than a shift. The girl threw her arms around Gisburne, who tensed for a moment before returning the embrace.

As Rashida stepped back, she studied Gisburne confusedly before noticing Robin. Seemingly unalarmed at the sight of this stranger, Rashida ushered both men into her chamber.

“This is the man I told you about,” Gisburne said.

Robin inclined his head. “It’s good to meet you, Rashida. I’m Robin.”

Rashida nodded politely before her gaze returned to Gisburne. “Can he help us?”

“I’d like to try,” Robin said, “but first I have some questions. Gisburne told me about the pouch that hangs around each soldier’s neck. Could you tell me what these pouches contain? Is it some sort of protection?”

Rashida bit her bottom lip. “No, each pouch contains a spell that gives the soldier life – if you can call it that.”

Robin remembered the symbols he had seen Rashida write on that piece of parchment in his vision and wondered why he hadn’t realized it sooner. “So, if the spell is destroyed by being washed away by water or destroyed by fire, the life of the spell’s bearer is extinguished? For good?”

“Yes,” Rashida said.

“And how are these men controlled? Is it through the same spell?”

Rashida shivered and wrapped herself in a blanket from her bed. “No, only the Baron can control them. He has a talisman that he uses to exert his power.”

“Like the talisman you left in my saddlebag?” Gisburne asked. His voice was quiet, but the anger and indignation were only too clear.

Rashida’s mouth fell open. “No, it is not like the talisman I left in your saddlebag as my talisman was meant to protect you!”

Gisburne’s eyes narrowed. “Then why not tell me about it? Why keep it a secret?”

“Because I thought you did not believe in such things and would throw it away!”

“Shh!” Robin said. “Belleme might hear you.”

Rashida, still draped in a blanket, strode across the chamber with all the imperiousness of a queen and stood before Gisburne. “Did you think I meant to harm you? Is that what you think?”

Gisburne gazed down at the floor. “Well, I…um…that is to say…”

Rashida punched Gisburne in the arm. “I love you, you-you ghabiun!” She hit Gisburne a second time and then threw up her hands, causing her blanket to fall to the floor. “By Allah, what more must I do to prove it to you?”

Gisburne, who had been staring at Rashida in astonishment, leaned down, cupped Rashida’s face in his hands, and kissed her. Then, as Gisburne went to pull away, Rashida looped her arms around his neck, and they kissed a second time.

Robin, who had already looked away, cleared his throat loudly. “I hate to interrupt, but you were telling me about the talisman Belleme uses to control his army of the dead.”

Blushing, Rashida stepped away from Gisburne. “It is a pentacle and something the Baron always has with him. You would be a fool to try to take it from him.”

“Then I suppose I’m a fool because that’s exactly what I intend to do,” Robin said.

Rashida arched an eyebrow. “And what do you intend to do once you have this talisman? Do you think you can use it to control these soldiers yourself? What do you know of sorcery?”

“Not much but I expect you know something.”

Rashida’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “No, I cannot – I will not – act against the Baron. He is like a father to me.”

Robin frowned. “A father who forces you to serve him by helping him conjure up these spells?”

Rashida raised her chin. “A father who took me in and gave me food and shelter. It is a debt I can never truly repay.”

“A real father does not expect repayment because everything he does for his child is out of love,” Robin said. “If the Baron has made you feel that you owe him a debt then he was never truly your father, Rashida.”

Gisburne placed a hand on Rashida’s shoulder. “The Baron doesn’t care about you or anyone else. All that matters to him is Azael. Now, I know I said that I would try to keep you out of it, but we could really use your help. If we don’t stop Belleme, he might destroy all of England.”

Rashida squeezed her eyes shut but grasped the hand on her shoulder. “Yes, all right,” she whispered. “I will help you, even if it means betraying the Baron.” Opening her eyes, she looked at Robin. “He likely keeps the talisman near him when he sleeps.”

“Would you recognize it if you saw it?” Robin asked.

Rashida sighed. “Yes, I would know it. I suppose I had better accompany you to his chamber.”

As Robin and Gisburne waited outside Rashida’s chamber while she got dressed, they held a whispered conversation about how best to steal the Baron’s talisman. Gisburne was in favour of subduing Belleme before they began searching for the talisman, while Robin preferred stealth. He would rather slip in and out of Belleme’s chamber without awaking him at all if possible.

“It would be better not to disturb him,” Rashida said. She had just slipped into the corridor holding a candle. She had changed into a brown woolen gown, and her long dark hair was tied in a single plait. “We do not know what he might do if he wakes.”

Robin grimaced. “I’d prefer not to find out.”

By silent agreement, they allowed Rashida to lead the way as they crept noiselessly along the darkened corridor towards Belleme’s chamber. It wasn’t until they reached the door that it occurred to Robin that it might be locked, but there was no resistance as Gisburne turned the handle. As they made their way through the door, three pairs of eyes sought the bed to ensure that the room’s occupant was asleep.

Shielding the candle’s light with her hand, Rashida tiptoed around the chamber in search of where the Baron might have hidden his talisman. Then she was pointing excitedly at a small wooden chest that stood at the foot of Belleme’s bed. Robin crouched down on the floor and frowned at the padlock that confronted him. He gestured at Rashida to lower the candle, so that he might examine the padlock better. Robin wondered if he might be able to force it open with his dagger, but the ever-resourceful Rashida presented him with a hairpin instead. However, before Robin could slip the pin in the padlock, they heard a voice speak to them from the bed.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for in there.”

Robin rose from his haunches and found himself staring at the shadowed face of the Baron de Belleme. From the corner of his eye, Robin saw the candlelight flicker and wondered if the hand wielding it had started to tremble. Yet, although the light wavered, it still reflected off the metal surface of the pentacle that Belleme held in his hand.

“I believe this is what you seek,” Belleme said. “Come and take it from me.” Then, when the three intruders in his chamber remained motionless, he shook his head and tutted. “What? Will none of you approach me? You must not have wanted it as much as you thought if not one of you will step forward and take it from me.”

Robin realized an instant too late what Gisburne intended to do and was unable to stop him from charging at Belleme. Perhaps if it hadn’t been for his limp, Gisburne might have succeeded. Instead, Belleme’s left arm shot out, and he hissed an incantation. “Ingenicula!”

Gisburne gave a sharp cry and fell to his knees. Rashida hurried to his side and then gazed up at Belleme beseechingly once she’d ascertained that the only pain Gisburne was experiencing was because of his leg.

“My lord Baron…”

Belleme regarded Rashida with an icy stare. “I gave you everything, and you betrayed me. I expected it from that fool Gisburne – I’ve seen him betray men before – but not you, Rashida. You were like a daughter to me but no more. This treachery will be your undoing.” Belleme closed his eyes and started moving the pentacle slowly back and forth. “I command you to seek those who have betrayed me. Let nothing stand in your way.”

Robin could feel the hairs on his skin rise as a cold chill swept through the chamber, and the very air seemed to change. Robin glanced at Gisburne, who was standing again thanks to Rashida. “I think it’s time we left.”

The Baron’s eyes opened. “It will do you no good. No matter where you go, they will find you and hunt you down.”

As Robin, Gisburne, and Rashida rushed from the chamber, they heard Belleme’s sinister laugh chasing at their heels. They decided to exit the castle the same way they had entered it and headed for the kitchens. In the distance, Robin thought he heard boots pounding on the flagstones as Belleme’s soldiers made their way up from the cellars. Gisburne must have heard the footfalls too as he quickened his pace despite the pain in his leg.

They were able to reach the bailey before they encountered their first obstacle in the form of nearly a dozen soldiers. Neither Robin nor Gisburne hesitated to strike back or even hack off an arm or two, while Rashida splashed water on the men from a jug she had found in the kitchens. Unfortunately, Rashida quickly realized that the soldiers no longer seemed to fear water and she was forced to abandon the jug.

“Head for the main gate!” Robin shouted as at least twenty more soldiers poured into the bailey.

They were almost halfway to the gate when Gisburne, who had been lagging behind, was set upon by four men. He managed to disarm one of the soldiers before his sword was knocked from his hand and he was pinned to the ground by two other men. The fourth soldier was about to thrust his sword in Gisburne’s belly when his head flew off his shoulders and landed in the grass. Robin struck at one of the soldiers holding Gisburne down, and it was enough for Gisburne to break free. When Robin tried to help Gisburne up, Gisburne shook his head.

“Leave me,” Gisburne said. “I’m putting your lives at risk. If I stay here, I might be able to distract Belleme’s soldiers long enough for you to escape and get Rashida to safety.”

“No!” Rashida cried. “I won’t leave here without you!”

Gisburne gritted his teeth as he rose to his feet. “Rashida, I can’t keep up, and I’m slowing you down. You stand a better chance if I stay behind.”

“It may be a moot point,” Robin said. “Look around you.”

Gisburne tore his eyes from Rashida, took in all the soldiers blocking their path to the main gate, and swore under his breath.

Rashida remained undeterred. “There’s the postern gate! If we double back, we could…” She trailed off as she saw the line of men who had approached them from behind.

“We’re trapped,” Robin said.

As the Baron’s corpse soldiers began to draw closer, Robin turned to Gisburne and said, “It looks like I’ve failed you. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Gisburne asked. “I would have thought you’d be angry at me for bringing about your death.”

“We’re not dead yet. Besides, I would have come with or without your invitation. Belleme needed to be dealt with, and I can at least take some solace in knowing that I tried to defeat him.” Robin tightened his grip on Albion. “If we’re going to die, I think we should die fighting.”

“Good,” Gisburne said. “We’re in agreement then.” He bent his head down, and Robin heard him whisper to Rashida. “Flee if you’re able. We’ll fight as many of them as we can.”

Rashida’s eyes filled with tears, and she clutched Gisburne’s hand. Robin thought about Marion and had to swallow around the lump in his throat when he realized that he might never see her again. He wished he’d been able to say a proper goodbye. At least Gisburne and Rashida would have that.

When Robin heard a horse neighing, he assumed it must belong to one of the corpse soldiers, but then the same horse crashed through the line of men blocking their path to the main gate. Even in the pre-dawn light, Robin recognized the rider in the black leather jerkin with his dark curly hair and beard.

“Is that Nasir?” Gisburne asked. He looked as stunned as Robin felt until an approaching soldier broke him from his trance, and Gisburne was shielding Rashida and parrying a sword’s blow. Robin quickly found that he was similarly engaged as three men tried to surround him at once.

Robin succeeded in disarming one man, only for two more to join the attack. When Albion was wrenched from his hand, Robin thought he would be killed for sure, but then Nasir came riding towards him.

“Go for their heads!” Robin cried. “That’s the only way to kill them!”

Robin saw one of Nasir’s scimitars swing down, and a headless soldier was lying on the ground. Then the scimitar kept swinging until all five men had been vanquished.

“Come, the way is clear,” Nasir said before riding off to fight more of Belleme’s men.

Robin ran over to Gisburne and helped him fend off two men. “Nasir has cleared a path for us. We need to go.”

Gisburne gave a quick nod. “Rashida, head for the gate. We’ll be right behind you.”

Rashida looked like she was about to argue and then had no choice but to run when she was nearly hit by a crossbow bolt.

It took several minutes, but by working together, Robin and Gisburne were able to fight their way to the gate. They had barely made it under the portcullis when it began lowering. Just before it reached the ground, Nasir rolled under it to join them on the other side.

“I disabled the portcullis,” Nasir said. Then an eyebrow rose when he saw who was with Robin. “Gisburne?”

Gisburne smirked. “Nasir.”

Rashida, who had been standing by Nasir’s horse, came and joined them, causing Nasir to lift his eyebrow again.

“Nasir, this is Rashida,” Robin said.

Nasir bowed. “As-salamu alaykum.”

Rashida greeted him in return. “Wa-alaykum as-salam.”

Robin grasped Nasir by the shoulder. “How on earth did you get here? For that matter, how did you know to come here in the first place?”

“Later,” Nasir said. “We do not have much time. We must escape before they come through the postern gate.”

“But where can we go?” Rashida asked. “Even if we manage to escape, we can’t possibly hide from them. They’ll always find us.”

Robin gazed at their surroundings as if trying to seek an answer when he heard the cry of a seagull and waves crashing against the shore. Then he remembered Belleme’s spell. I command you to seek those who have betrayed me. Let nothing stand in your way.

“We need to lure them into the sea,” Robin said.

“And how do we do that?” Gisburne asked. “They won’t go near water unless they have to.”

Robin grinned. “They will now. Don’t you remember the Baron’s spell? He told his men to let nothing stand in their way.”

“The water I threw at them!” Rashida cried. “I thought it would keep them back, but it didn’t work.”

“If I’m right,” Robin said, “it’s because of the spell. No obstacle, even water, must prevent them from hunting us down. Come on, we have to hurry before they catch up with us.”

Nasir pointed to some dunes in the distance. “There’s a path that leads down to the sea.”

The four had just reached the path when they saw that a swarm of soldiers had streamed out of the castle and were not far behind them. It was a sign of their desperation that Gisburne allowed Robin to assist him as they made their way down the path. Gisburne threw an arm over Robin’s shoulders as Robin wrapped an arm around his waist. All four of them were breathless by the time their feet hit the sand.

“Keep going,” Robin said. “We need to get in the water.”

“But it will be freezing!” Gisburne cried. He tried to push Robin away, but Robin wasn’t letting go, and Gisburne found himself being led into the frigid water. “You’d better be right about this, Wolfshead!”

Robin laughed even as he felt the shock of the cold water hit him. “If I’m not, you might not live long enough to crow about it as the North Sea may have killed us first.”

Despite everyone’s protests, Robin insisted that they wade in as far as their chests. Then they stood, shivering, their teeth chattering. Thankfully, they did not have to wait long.

Soon, dozens of Belleme’s men were entering the sea and making their way towards them.

“Swim out a bit farther,” Robin said. “We have to entice them in deep enough to wash away the spells written on each scrap of parchment.”

Gisburne groaned. “You’re utterly mad!”

Nasir and Rashida seemed to be in complete agreement with Gisburne, but the three of them still did as Robin asked. Then it began to happen. Soldiers abruptly came to a stop and then sank beneath the waves.

“It’s working!” Rashida cried.

“Yes, but we are not out of danger yet,” Nasir said. He jerked his chin at the beach, and they were all startled to see the Baron de Belleme running across the sand shrieking at his men.

It was impossible for them to hear what he was shouting, but everyone assumed that Belleme was trying to prevent his men from stepping into the sea. Then when his pleas and commands proved ineffective, Belleme got into the water himself and tried to grab a hold of one of the soldiers to haul him back to shore. The soldier struck Belleme across the face, and Belleme fell backwards into the water. Belleme stumbled back on his feet and ventured deeper into the water. He kept trying to seize a hold of his men and failing, but he must have proved enough of a hindrance to the soldiers for them to want to get rid of him as a group of them suddenly surrounded Belleme and then he could be seen no more.

They had all found dry clothing to wear and were gathered before a roaring fire in the castle’s great hall when Robin finally heard Nasir’s story.

“It was the first night in Bildesthorp. I had just finished praying when I heard Herne’s voice in my head. He told me that you needed help and that I must go to you. He said I would find you in a castle overlooking the sea where an old enemy dwells. I knew he must mean Castle Belleme.”

“And you didn’t tell the others?” Robin asked.

Nasir shook his head. “I did not think it was their fight. If it had been, then why did Herne speak to me alone? I told Much that you had sent a message asking for my help and that I had to leave. Much did not question it.”

“Yes, but I imagine everyone else did!” Robin reached out from under his blanket and placed a hand on Nasir’s wrist. “I’m grateful that you came. Thank you, my friend. We would not have defeated Belleme if it hadn’t been for you, and it might have been us lying dead in the castle bailey rather than Belleme lying dead in the sea…What is it?” Robin had seen Nasir and Gisburne exchange a look.

“Belleme…always seems to return,” Nasir said.

Gisburne shuddered despite the fire. “Yes, he certainly does.”

Rashida shifted nearer to Gisburne and nestled against his shoulder. “I hope he and all those men have found some peace, Inshallah.”

“Inshallah,” Gisburne murmured. He began stroking Rashida’s hair, and it was Robin and Nasir’s turn to exchange a glance.

“What do you plan to do now, Guy?” Robin asked.

Gisburne opened his mouth to respond, flicked his eyes at Rashida, and then looked back in confusion. “I don’t know. I’ve spent so much time trying to survive in this castle, first because of my wound and then Belleme, that I never thought about what would happen next.”

Rashida nudged Gisburne with her elbow. “What are you talking about? You’ll be staying here, of course.”

Gisburne squirmed uncomfortably. “But what would we do? How would we live?”

“What has to change?” Rashida asked. “We’ll live as before. I’ll trade my remedies with those villagers who trust me in exchange for food and other necessities.”

“And what if we need money?”

“Well, I’m certain the Baron has some possessions we might sell,” Rashida said. “We could make it work, Guy. I’m sure we could.”

Gisburne toyed with a lock of Rashida’s hair. “All right, I’ll stay. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to go.”

During this exchange, Nasir had been looking increasingly thoughtful. He addressed Rashida in Arabic, and she immediately lifted her head from Gisburne’s shoulder. The two carried on their conversation a bit longer before they were both rising excitedly to their feet and leaving the hall.

“What was all that about?” Gisburne asked.

“I wish I knew,” Robin said.

Robin did not discover what Nasir and Rashida had spoken about until later that day when they had taken their leave and were riding away from the castle.

“I wonder if Gisburne and Rashida will be able to make it work,” Robin said. “I mean, Rashida’s horse salve is quite remarkable, but will that and her other potions be enough?”

Nasir considered Robin’s question for a moment before answering. “Well, if it isn’t then they could always live on Rashida’s part of the treasure.”

Robin brought his horse to an abrupt stop. “Treasure?”

“Yes, I remembered the stories I had heard and thought Rashida might know something about it. That is what we spoke about in the hall.” Nasir reached inside his jerkin and pulled out a cloth bundle. Opening it, he revealed an assortment of jewels.

Astounded, Robin gaped at the treasure in Nasir’s hands. “I can’t believe it!”

“Yes, I was fortunate to get this much,” Nasir said. “That girl drives a hard bargain.”

Robin continued to stare at the jewels. “Her father was a merchant.”

“Ah, yes, that explains much.” Looking pleased, Nasir stashed the jewels away again.

“Does Gisburne know about this treasure?” Robin asked.

“I asked Rashida, and she said that Gisburne told her that he had seen the jewels once before and never wanted to see them again as he was convinced they were cursed. If the girl is clever, she will keep this secret from him and sell off each jewel as she needs to.”

“Rashida seems both clever and shrewd. It wouldn’t surprise me if she does just that.” Robin smiled in amusement. “I don’t think Gisburne has any idea what he’s let himself in for.” He gazed over his shoulder to the castle’s main gate where Gisburne and Rashida were standing. Gisburne had wrapped an arm around Rashida and was placing a kiss on her forehead.

“On the other hand,” Robin said, “maybe he does.”