The Way Back

Chapter One

Disclaimer: all characters belong to Tiger Aspect and the BBC, no infringement intended and no money being made.
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"Alright Isabella, you win. I'll do anything you want. Kill me, if you must, but don't take her life."

Against his will, Allan's steps slowed. He didn't want to see this, was glad Robin had sent him and Little John to the armoury. But the desperation in Gisborne's voice dragged him to the balustrade.

"Come on," John urged him, waving for Allan to follow.

Allan held up a hand – he wanted to hear.

"Proceed with the execution!"

"She's just an innocent girl."

John tugged at his arm.

"We need to go, now."

Allan shrugged him off. He lifted his bow, even drew an arrow.

"Shouldn't we do something?" he asked.

"What, and save Gisborne? Why?" John was genuinely puzzled.

"Well, him and the girl."

"No need." John pointed. "Robin'll take care of it. Come on."

As John spoke Allan saw the executioner drop. Then Robin took a second, spectacular shot – one of those only he could make – to knock the falling axe from its trajectory. He watched Guy free the girl and descend the steps and was about to follow John when he saw a guard attack them. Then Guy was swinging the injured girl up into his arms and fleeing. 

"John...they're in trouble..."

"So will the rest of us be if we don't get those weapons. We go, now!"

"OK big man," he said, following John's lead.
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"Hood! Get him," shrieked Isabella.

All hell broke loose. Guy leapt to his feet, as did Meg; they freed each other's wrists. Unable to repress a smile, Meg's eyes shone with relief and hope. Guy felt it too. But they weren't out of danger, the chaos would give only moments' cover. Guy leapt from the platform, and turned to help Meg down.

"Guy, look out. Guy, no!"

At her cry he spun, saw the lunging guard, and pushed Meg aside. A swift blow felled the man. Guy turned and saw Meg teetering down onto the steps, clutching her side.

"No," he breathed, "no...."

Scooping her up, Guy stumbled towards the nearest gate. No one molested them, but it wouldn't be long before they were pursued. Like every fugitive before, Guy headed for the concealment of Sherwood. Close to the town its paths were well-known to every guard in Nottingham; they would have to find somewhere well hidden to be safe. He half-ran and half-stumbled, Meg's blood seeping across his arm. He tripped on a rock, and she whimpered softly. Guy shifted his grip for a better hold. They must stop. He needed to check the injury, and decide what to do. He'd lost track of time, but when they emerged from the trees into a dim glade and he saw the angle of the light glinting on the water he reckoned the day to be fading.

"Let's just rest here for a while," he murmured to Meg.

Guy sank onto the piled leaves at the base of a tree. He carefully settled her in his lap, reclining her against the trunk.

"There we go."

His hands grazed gently down her arms and he moved hers aside so that he could assess the wound.  He'd deflected the blow, but the pike had grazed her side, leaving an ugly mess of fabric, flesh and blood all torn and mingled together. Guy ran his hands up and down her arms, reassuring himself as much as her. She was alive, but this was beyond his power to mend; he inflicted wounds, he didn't heal them. Where to find help? No one would aid Guy of Gisborne. Any healer or physician would hand him straight back to Isabella. He thought of Locksley Manor.  His steward, Thornton, would help. He was a good man, and they'd worked together comfortably enough.  But even if Isabella hadn't installed a new lord there, once she had the situation in hand in the castle her first priority would be to dispatch guards to watch the manor. Which only left Hood. He'd intervened already to save Meg and would no doubt do so again. And just as quickly hand him over to Isabella. Should that stop him? Guy tenderly brushed the curls back from Meg's face. He would risk that; much as it galled him to ask, he knew the outlaw would keep her safe. But with no idea where to find him, Guy didn't have much time.