Archive for July, 2008

Off on a mission

Sherwood Forest


“Master, we can’t let them hang Allan,” Much said excitedly.
Robin was thinking hard and had not heard Much.
“Master, if the Sheriff kills Allan then he wins and that would be-,” Much tried to make a point, but was cut short.
“Much, just hush. We need to think and that cannot be done while you are telling us what we already know, all right?” Djaq knew only too well that Much would not be helping anyone with his verbal thinking! Much was used to be told to hold his tongue, and for a good reason, so he sat down and thought, silently.
“Robin, any plan?” Little John wondered aloud.
Robin felt he had to be strong, or at least appear it, so, picking up his bow, he said, “I have a plan, well, half a plan.”
The outlaws knew when Robin said that, he usually had no idea. Bearing this in mind Will said somewhat obviously, “You don’t have a plan, do you?”
Robin sighed before continuing, “It should be easy. Enter the castle, break into the dungeons, rescue Allan and any other prisoners, ‘rescue’ a few valuables, humble the Sheriff and Gisborne and then leave. But you’re right. I don’t have a clue HOW to do this. The whole place is locked down tight now and it is almost impossible to get into the castle grounds, let alone the dungeons!”
“Robin, we have to find a way to get in. The future of England could be at stake. Remember the Black Knights. No good can ever come out their plotting,” Djaq spoke urgently; she knew how much England meant to Robin.
“Right, I have a plan!” Robin informed the rest of his band.

“Well, that is the best news that I have heard, Robin, since I heard that you hadn’t died in the Sheriff’s snake pit. Believe me, it was terrifying to think of you being dead!” It was Much’s turn to rejoice.
“So what is your plan?” Little John and Will asked in unison, both eager to know.




Nottingham Castle


A coach rumbled up to the castle gates and stopped, the horses welcoming the little rest.
“Who goes there?” Two guards walked over to the carriage to inspect its contents.
“Name?” barked the taller of the guards.
“Sir Walter,” replied the man, who had led the team of horses. He was dressed like a Black Knight.
“And your business?” asked the second guard as he inclined his head toward the carriage.
Sir Walter discreetly showed the guards a ring that, if looked at upside-down, looked like a jackal.
“Open the gates,” yelled the first guard to the gate-keeper. Then to Sir Walter he said, “Pass.”

As the carriage passed through the gates the occupants inside heaved a sigh of relief.
Because the carriage was small, and no guards walked in front to clear the way, the Sheriff, assuming that another load of grain had arrived, did not go out to meet it, but instead sent a guard to help unload the grain.
Expecting someone would come to give a thorough inspection of the carriage, Sir Walter thumped on its side and whispered, “Now lads, time to disappear!”
Out jumped a tall guard, wearing a uniform of black chain mail that didn’t quite fit. Next came two guards of medium height, one being slightly rounder than the other. And lastly, a robed figure and small of stature leapt nimbly from the carriage. Sir Walter walked round to the company and then led the band of guards through the crowd of marketgoers and into a narrow alley way. There Sir Walter removed his helmet revealing the face of Robin Hood! The rest followed suit and Little John, Will Scarlet, Much and Djaq could be seen standing there, waiting for a word from their leader.



“Guards, you!” The Sheriff pointed to one of the ten guards that had answered his call, “You, go and help that man unload his cart. I suspect he is just delivering some grain, oh and while you’re at it you might as well make some money. You could charge him tax or something!”
“Yes M’lord,” answered the guard.
“And,” added the Sheriff, “if anything goes wrong, don’t come to me for help! I already have enough on my plate without having to bother about a merchant and his wares!”
“Yes M’lord. If anything goes wrong though-”

“Enough on your plate?” questioned a voice behind the Sheriff.
“Yes,’ answered the Sheriff without thinking about who he was talking to.
“Did you heed this morning’s advice and buy tongue from the market, or maybe you like pork. It’s your choice really.”
The Sheriff spun around and looked a Black Knight right in the face
“Who are you, Robin Hood?” the Sheriff demanded.
“No!” laughed the Black Knight, “I am Sir Walter of Surrey, and ever glad to be in your service.”
“Then ho-ow do you know about…tongue?”
“Word travels fast, Sir.”
“Oh no! So all the populace knows about my humiliation?”
“I’m afraid so. But all is not lost.”
“If they know, then they will pay!”
“And how will you make them pay?”
“When you and your fellow men are seated in the long hall, then I will tell you my plan.”
While they had been talking the Sheriff had guided Sir Walter to the balcony overlooking the long hall and the pair surveyed the vast space, empty save for the oversized table at the far end. Behind the table was a throne-like chair and in front, facing the table, were ten chairs arranged in a semi-circle. 

“Very well, but please do allow me to take a tour of the castle before we talk. I’ve never been here before,” Sir Walter continued.
“Ah, yes alright. But can you find your own way around? I have to make a few arrangements and-”
“Don’t worry, some of my guards have been here before. Besides, I don’t get lost easily. I have a wonderful sense of direction, maybe even as good as the great Robin Hood!”
“All right, but please don’t mention Robin. He is an enemy of the Crown and has a price on head; five hundred pounds, to be precise.”
“Five hundred pounds, that’s a lot!”
“Yes, and he’s worth every penny!”


Tracked like deer

Sherwood Forest


The outlaws split up into teams of two and ran silently after the Sheriff and the Black Knights.
Robin and Djaq went up the west side of the carriage, Allan and Will the east side and Little John and Much ran a little way behind as back-ups. The outlaws caught snatches of the conversation that the Black Knights were having.
“So how is…Shah Mat…the moat…peasants…but…Sheriff…night watchman…King…Holy land…outlaws…clever…dead?…my brother…” It was hard to tell what they were saying, but it was enough to make all the outlaws curious.
By this time the Black Knights were entering Sherwood Forest. The conversation between them stopped altogether. Who would want to be attacked by outlaws if it could be helped?
It was so quiet; only the sound of the horses’ hooves padding against the soft turf of the forest floor could be heard. Suddenly the most unexpected thing happened. Allan tripped over a tree root, going down with an almighty crash. Immediately the outlaws stopped and hid behind the nearest trees. But Allan, as yet unrecovered from his winding, remained prostrate on the ground. The Sheriff stopped his horse and put his finger to his lips. Without breaking the silence Robin, Djaq, Much, Will and Little John strung their bows, ready to defend Allan.
The Sheriff dismounted his horse and stood looking around him.
“Don’t let him see me,” Allan thought. He took a breath and closed his eyes, hoping.

A rabbit hopped in front of him, causing the leaves to rustle. The Sheriff’s eyes were drawn to the spot, and in so doing, he caught a glimpse of a boot sticking out from behind a bush. The Sheriff pointed at it and motioned for Gisborne to follow him.
Robin saw what was happening and without hesitating he let his arrow fly. It landed right at the Sheriff’s feet. Following their leader’s example the outlaws sent their arrows to join Robin’s. One, two, three, four. In a row. The Sheriff stopped short of his target and shot a look at Gisborne, which cried, “HELP!”
Gisborne merely blinked and then slowly backed away from the Sheriff and up to the carriage, taking control of the situation.
“Arm yourselves,” he commanded the Black Knights, “We may capture one of Robin Hood’s men, IF you do exactly what I tell you to. We must be careful though, because Robin Hood is in bow range. I, for one, do not intend to die by means of his arrow!”
The Black Knights nodded in agreement and followed Gisborne’s orders. They strode over to where Allan was still lying on the ground. They pulled him up and looking triumphant, they invited the Sheriff to pronounce his judgment.
“Hey, what are you…,” Allan exclaimed in surprise.

“You are one of Robin’s Rueful Ragamuffins, aren’t you,” the Sheriff greeted Allan.
“N-no,” stammered the captured.
“Then what, may I ask, were you doing?”        

Allan had an old habit of lying and now that he was in a tough situation this vice surfaced. 

“I was just hunting that rabbit, over there.” Allan tried to make it sound like he was telling the truth, but failed miserably.

“If you want me to believe you, you’re going to have to try better than that. Here, let’s give you another turn. Forget the rabbit, and tell me….do you have a tag, you know, a wooden tag with a symbol on it?”

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with the rabbit?” Allan answered, puzzled.
“I told you to forget the rabbit. Now on with my interrogation. So you are one of Robin’s Merry Men.”
“N-no I’m not. Look I told you I was hunting that rabbit and…”
“And you just so happen to have one of Robin Hood’s tags. I know his tag when I see one, because he gave me one when he visited once!” The Sheriff pounced at the opportunity to display his knowledge.
“Oh that tag, Robin gave it to me after he helped me get out of trouble, but that hardly makes me one of his men.”
“You’ve almost convinced me. Maybe you’re not lying. Now what sort of trouble would that have been?”
“Ahh, well I-” But Allan didn’t have time to defend himself. Gisborne interrupted. 
“M’lord this man feels familiar. He is the one that your guards caught taking food from the pig trough, like a prodigal son. He was quite lost too. When Robin came to pardon those from Locksley Manor, this man said he was from Locksley Manor. Then when Robin didn’t believe him he said to the jailer that there had been a mistake and that he was a visitor from Rochdale and that was why his name was Allan A Dale. Believe me, he was lost!”
“Well Allan A Dale from Locksley Manor, Rochdale and wherever you woke up this morning, I have a surprise for you. You are not going to be a merry man for much longer. Your lying certainly has not improved! You are going back to the dungeons,” shouted the Sheriff. “Gisborne, Guards, when you have escorted this man to the dungeons, meet me in the long hall.” Then to Allan, he promised, “You will hang this evening. The gallows have been gathering a bit of dust lately.”

A higher calling

Knighton Hall


“People of Knighton,” the Sheriff addressed the peasants, “I have an announcement to make.” Then gesturing for his serving boy to pass him a scroll, he proceeded to read aloud.


“My humble citizens, I am sure you are all aware of how important it is to obey the law, without question, otherwise you will be punished!”

“Aye,” a peasant lifted his arm, or what was left of it. He knew punishment. Even the unjust laws were to be obeyed.

 The Sheriff nodded his head and continued his speech,

“Unfortunately, in our midst there are people who defy the law, those who question it. As I have said many times before, they must be punished…have an example made of them. It is time to ‘stir our stumps’ so to speak,”
the Sheriff chuckled at his own joke and then continued speaking.
“So on this the third day of the tenth month in the year of our Lord 1193, I hereby declare that Edward of Knighton, representative of the Nottingham council and Marian of Knighton, daughter of Edward, are to be placed in the stocks for the duration of three days and three nights, under the charge of speaking against the law.”


There was a disappointed murmur as the peasants saw Edward and Marian being led to the stocks.
“To add to the ‘festivity’, why don’t you throw a few refreshments to our guests? Tomatoes and eggs would do nicely,” Gisborne suggested.
“Wonderful idea Gisborne, you are developing your nasty side quite nicely!” the Sheriff complimented.

As Much had predicted, the peasants did not throw any food at Edward and Marian, because for a start they did not have enough to spare, and additionally, they loved Edward and Marian. The peasants slowly started to walk back to their business. The Sheriff had not anticipated such a response, and thinking quickly, he called out, “I am offering ten pounds to the peasant who throws the first egg or tomato or anything.”
But the peasants just ignored this offer and continued their retreat from the stocks.
“Father, do you see that? The peasants…” Marian was impressed by the peasants’ loyalty to her and Edward.
“It will not last. The Sheriff is bound to make them throw at least one rotten tomato at us.”
And Edward was right. The Sheriff could see that the ten pounds was not going to persuade these peasants to betray their esteemed landlord.
“So,” he thought “I will have to make them.” Then to the peasants he said, “People of Knighton. I have seen that you are not going to throw food at Edward and Marian of your own accord, so…I am giving you one last chance to throw the food, or else I will have to enforce my words.”
The peasants remained; motionless, steadfast, determined. Then one of the peasants, a short man holding a staff in one hand, called out, “Sheriff, if we are to throw any food it must come from your plate.”
The Sheriff would not tolerate this cheek so he stood up and said with forced calmness, “I think that maybe you would like to see what is served on my plate?”
“Only if it -”
“Come here then and see.”
The peasant walked to where the Sheriff was standing.
“Guards show this man what I like to eat for dinner.”
One guard held the man while the other picked up a pair of scissors then forcing the peasant’s mouth open he attempted to cut out the peasant’s tongue.
Whizz. An arrow went flying through the air and knocked the scissors out of the guard’s hands.
“What…what was that?” the Sheriff asked with mock surprise.
“An arrow, Sir,” answered the guard, who had been wrestling with the scissors and the peasant’s tongue.
“Of course it’s an arrow, I can see, but whose arrow?” asked the Sheriff.
Sh-should I let this man go?” the guard enquired. He could still feel the shaft rushing past his fingers. Whoever had fired that arrow was one good archer! 
“A clue: no! Tell me, Gisborne, who fired that arrow?”
Gisborne knew that there was only one person, who could have fired a shot with such accuracy, so he ventured, “Robin Hood. M’lord I think that it would be wiser if we went back to the castle if there is a killer on the loose!”
“Not scared are you?”
Gisborne clenched his sword and his teeth: “No.”

“Then don’t tell me what to do. I’m the one who gives orders. Right guards, out with his tongue!”
The guard, who had tried to let the peasant off, now said rather faintly, “I can’t,”
“And why not?”
“Because…” The guard fell over with an arrow in his back and nothing else was heard from him.
“For goodness’ sake tell the guard to stand up, I don’t like it when people bow down to me and ask favors!”
“M’lord, he’s dead,” said Gisborne somewhat tiredly.
“Dead?” this time the Sheriff was genuinely surprised. “But he was my favorite.” Then turning to the remaining guard, he summoned him to cut out the tongue.
This guard looked as terrified as the first and then he too fell down with an arrow protruding from his back. Finally a voice emerged through the crowd of peasants, “Sheriff, if you do not want to join your guards in their fate, let this man go with his tongue.”


“Master, we have to go, there is a whole wagon load of guards coming.” Much warned Robin of the approaching danger. “Much, you go with the rest of the band, I’ll come once I have finished my speech.”
As instructed, Much accompanied the band hiding themselves in the shrubs that grew on the outskirts of Knighton Hall. They smiled at Robin’s daring piece of advice.
“If, by any chance, you actually like eating tongue, buy some from the market – it tastes much better!” Robin carefully threaded his way through the crowd and ran over to where the outlaws were hiding.

“Looks like you have made the Sheriff’s day,” joked Allan.

“Talking about the Sheriff…” Will nodded his head towards the place where the Sheriff was mounting his horse. Much interrupted, “He’s leaving with those guards!”

“Black Knights,” Robin corrected.

“But why is he going with them?” asked Djaq.
“He has had a higher calling and we are going to follow them,” said Robin.
“Surely, Master, surely not.” That was what Much liked to say in such situations.
“Come on. Split up into teams of two, and whatever you do, keep hidden,” commanded Robin. 

He still persists


Nottingham Castle – the dungeons


Marian and Edward were being led down into the dungeons. Edward, who had a calm nature, went quietly. Marian, who had not inherited her father’s personality, was protesting.
Edward was put into the cell closest to the flight of stairs that led up into the very middle of the castle. Marian was put into the cell opposite her father.
As Edward sat on the wooden bench that served as a bed, his mind was full of regret. If only he hadn’t spoken, if only he had bided his time, like he was always telling Robin to, if only… This train of thought went on for some time, then stopped abruptly.

“Now is my chance to see what the dungeons look like,” Edward thought to himself.
The dungeons were fairly new to Edward. They had been constructed when the new sheriff had taken over. When he had been sheriff there had been no dungeons, nor any need for them. There had only been a set of stocks and even they weren’t used that often. Edward sighed and looked over to where his daughter was pacing up and down. He knew she would be trying to form an escape plan, but he also knew it was useless. They were stuck behind iron bars with nothing to aid their escape. Edward watched Marian as she sat down on her bench with her head in her hands. He stared at the hard packed earthen floor and waited. For what? He did not know, but still he waited.
Marian was angry; why was she here in the dungeons? For speaking up for her father! But she was glad she that she had spoken up – both for her father and for England! She glanced at her father and wondered what he was thinking. Without realizing it she had begun pacing back and forth.

“I have to think of a way out of here,” she resolved. “How does Robin do it?” She wandered over to the bench and resumed her former pose, head in hands and thought. One of her hair pins fell out. Marian picked the hair pin up and looked at it, a recollection of former times aroused. Marian recalled that once when she and Robin had been trapped outside the scribe’s room Robin had taken one of her hair pins and had pushed it into the lock. Marian remembered asking if it would work and Robin had confidently replied that there was no need to worry, because he had done it many times before.
If the hair pin trick had worked for Robin, then surely it would work for her. Marian walked over to the cell’s entrance and called out softly, “Father, I think I can get us out of here.”
“I have a hair pin and it should be able to unlock -” Marian stopped abruptly. Gisborne was coming down the stairs into the dungeons and behind him followed the jailer. Quickly Marian dropped the evidence of her thoughts.
Gisborne raised his hand and said to the jailer, “Wait here.” Then going to the cell where Edward stood, he said, “I am sorry that you should have come to be here.”
However, Edward knew that Gisborne was not sorry for him, but only sorry for Marian.
“You cannot have her,” Edward stated.
Gisborne only raised his eyebrows and went over to Marian. “Marian, it is rather unfortunate that I should see you here…If you could, would you escape?” Gisborne asked.
“I think even a madman would,” came the curt reply.
“Marian, I can free you, but you would need to be protected from the Sheriff. I can give you that protection if you marry me.”
“I would never marry you!”
“Why not?”
“Because you are a traitor. You went off to the Holy Land and tried to kill King Richard. That’s why!”
Gisborne look sorrowfully at Marian, then called to the jailer, “Keep an eye on these two.”
Pouting, he walked back up the stairs into the castle.
Edward gave Marian a questioning look.
“He still persists,” Marian said by way of answer.


Trial post from Word2k7

Testing one two three


Sherwood Forest – Outlaws’ Camp


Robin Hood walked into the section of the forest, where he and his band had built an ingenious camp.

He had just been out at Knighton Hall and while he was there one of the many peasants from the castle had sent word to him saying, “Edward and Marian are going to be placed in the stocks that you have just seen being built.”

“Right lads, we are needed at Knighton,” replied Robin, all the while placing more arrows into his quiver. Much looked up and without hesitating, countered, “But Master our camp needs waterproofing…that I would know, because I happen to sleep under the exact spot, where there is a leak. Besides, you yourself said we would be doing that today and to put your mind at ease, Knighton Hall is run by a very capable man.”

Robin was used to this kind of speech and was slightly amused by it. Usually he teased Much about not wanting to work, but this time he decided to refrain from jesting.

“Much is right, Robin. Edward hardly needs a hand at running Knighton,” Allan A Dale put in. Djaq, the Saracen woman, who Robin Hood and his men had freed three years ago, and always capable telling when something was wrong, spoke up, “Robin, has something happened to Edward?” and after some consideration she added, “or Marian?” “It’s a bit like this,” Robin said slowly, “On a whim Prince John has decided to put Edward and Marian in the stocks. Also, Knighton is in danger of being overrun by vermin!”

Will Scarlet, who had been listening thoughtfully, asked, “When you said vermin, did you mean rats?” “Might as well be rats,” answered Robin looking very serious. Allan, who always saw the funny side of things, asked Robin, “Look, I’m not being funny, but are we going to be the Pied Piper of Knighton?” He received an answer that he was by no means expecting, “Yes, I think we could be. Will, we need those instruments that we had yesterday.” The instruments were actually swords and bows cleverly disguised as a harp, a banjo and a flute. Thanks to Will the ‘Crafty Craftsman’, the instruments looked very realistic.

“Why weapons?” That was Little John, John to the outlaws, a man of very few words.

“Would it help if I told you that one of the rat’s names is Sir Guy of Gisborne?” said Robin with the all-to-familiar grin on his face. When the outlaws saw this grin they knew that their captain would do anything. Usually Little John could persuade Robin not to do anything that might endanger their lives even more than the usual, but this time Will took on this job.

“Robin we cannot go, Knighton Hall will be teeming with…with vermin. It will be dangerous and…” Will stopped and looked for help from the others, but they offered none. Much had stopped stirring the squirrel stew he was cooking and was looking hopefully from Will to Robin. Then suddenly he burst out, “Master, the peasants love Edward and Marian and have so little that they won’t go throwing their precious food at them, would they? Once we have got them out of there, we can waterproof the roof. I, for one, will not sleep under a drip!” Robin thought this was getting ridiculous. The men who he, Robin, relied on to help him restore justice, were now worrying about a little danger. Danger was not new to the outlaws and they knew it! He needed to make them see the importance of this matter. And so looking at Much, but speaking to them all, he said with determination, “We have no choice but to go. As you all know, Edward is very weak now and I don’t think he has much of a chance to…unless we get him out of the stocks tonight.” There was a long silence as everyone thought about what Robin had just said. Allan broke the silence, “Well, I always thought his days were…somewhat numbered.”

“It’s not like he’s died yet,” retorted Much, rather indignantly. “Robin, if what you say is true, then Edward must have help, urgently!” Djaq said with concern. Robin smiled. If there was one person who would say that, it was Djaq.

“So are you coming with me?” asked Robin.

“I’ll go where you go, Robin,” said Will, sorry that he had mentioned it would be dangerous; of course it would be dangerous, everything they did was dangerous. The law and outlaws had swapped places and that was dangerous. All the outlaws nodded in agreement. Robin looked gratefully at his band. These were the men he knew.

“Where there’s a WILL there’s a way,” Little John said. He liked sayings and this one was used often, always predictably aimed at Will.

“Is that another saying?” asked Much. He never did understand the sayings.

“Right, meet me on the Great North Road in one hour.” Having said that Robin went off to hunt for something to eat; he was getting a bit tired of eating the squirrel, even though Much said it was chicken.



To the stocks!

Nottingham Castle – the long hall

“Ah, but Robin Hood is an outlaw and outlaws should, and must, be punished….hmm….hung,” said the Sheriff with a grin on his face that was far from kind.
Gisborne sighed. If the Sheriff had said this once, he had said it a thousand times before, each time gaining nothing.

“Forgive me, but if I might be permitted to speak. You kill too readily. When I was Sheriff-,” pleaded Edward.
“Shut up,” barked the Sheriff, then, realizing that the only way to gain this man’s confidence was to listen to what he had to say, he finished warily, “So what do you propose I do?”
Edward briefly looked taken aback, then taking hold of the chance that was in front of him he proceeded to say, “When I was Sheriff I used the stocks or -,” Edward stopped as Sir Guy of Gisborne, otherwise known simply as Guy or Gisborne, stood up.
“M’lord, this man speaks treason. HE must be punished,” said Gisborne with a superior air.
The Sheriff had got up from his throne-like chair and had been pacing up and down the length of the long table that Edward and Gisborne were seated at, when Gisborne interrupted Edward. Now he stopped and looked up at Gisborne.
“Get your dictionary, Gisborne, and find out what treason means. Edward, how would you like to be beaten, then put in the stocks and have rotten eggs and tomatoes thrown at you all day long?”
“Much better than being hung,” replied Edward.
“How much better?” enquired the Sheriff.
“I would rather be first in the stocks than thousandth to be hung, of that I am certain!”
“Oh la di da di da, guards! You can take him away. No, wait! Before you escort this man to the dungeons, I have something to say. Edward, it is a pity you’re not a favorite of Prince John or he might have let you remain as Sheriff. As it happens I am now the Sheriff and I say you are going to wait in the dungeons until I have some stocks erected at Knighton Hall, then you will try them out. Guards! On with the show.”
The guards were just grabbing Edward when Marian burst into the long hall, and seeing her father being led away, she was surprised, but not so surprised that she could not talk.
“What are you doing to my father?”

Gisborne looked over to where the words had been spoken. He was equally surprised to see Marian standing there, but not at all surprised at what she had said. Marian was the type of person that liked to know what was happening.
“Why are you here, Marian?” Gisborne queried.
“Lepers, Gisborne, lepers,” the Sheriff reminded under his breath.
“What, in the name of King Richard, are you doing to my father?” Marian persisted.
“She’s pretty ‘til she talks, isn’t she, Gisborne? Wait guards,” said the Sheriff.
Marian was getting desperate “Guy, what is happening…Guy?”
But it was Guy’s father, who answered. “Oh, Marian, it is a bit like this. Your father and I were discussing the subject of outlaws and law-breakers and what to do with them.” The Sheriff stopped for breath.
“He means Robin Hood!” thought Marian.
The Sheriff continued speaking, “And your father wanted to introduce the stocks. He even went so far as to say he would like to be the first in them.”
Marian was puzzled. It would be the first time her father had said anything of the sort.
“Father?!” she questioned.
“Marian, you know what I would and wouldn’t say. Go my dear.” Edward finished with urgency in his voice.
Now the Sheriff was not about to let Marian go, so, calling his guards, he summoned them to take Marian to the dungeons along with her father, and to the lass he said, “Marian we wouldn’t want you running to Robin Hood for help now, would we? And to enable you to have a party with your father, I will be generous and supply the refreshments – as well as the location. Ha ha.”
Gisborne still had some sense of justice left and he still loved Marian, which is why he protested against the Sheriff saying, “M’lord, about Marian, she is a high born lady.”
“And I am higher. Gisborne, it would do you well to remember who gives the orders,” remarked the Sheriff and with a glance in the direction of Marian, Edward and the dungeons, he went off to see about erecting the stocks. 

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