Denial: Stick and Stones...
A/N: No previous knowledge of the Denial story is needed other than to know that Much is squire to Carter and serving King Richard in the Holy Land.
Title: Denial, Ch. 34: Sticks and Stones...
Author: robinfanatic
Characters/Pairings: Much/Carter, King Richard; mentions of Robin, Legrand and the gang
Rating: PG-15
Genre: slash if you squint
Words: 3643
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; I just want to play in their universe
Notes This continues the 'Round-Robin' fic 'Denial'.
Beta'ed by darkentwisted & wastingyourgum
Summary: The sheriff and Prince John have twisted the events of Queen Eleanor's rescue in Nottinghamshire and their message about what transpired at Midsummer has arrived at the king's camp in the Holy Land. This story takes place prior to and during the events of 2x12, A Good Day to Die.
Want to play? Come join us! Check out the Rules and join in the Round Robin fun!
Previous Chapters: Summary of previous chapters...
Ch. 34: Sticks and Stones
by robinfanatic
The pavilion was crowded with the king's guard, twenty or so Knights Templar, and a handful of Hospitallers. Much was on the far side of the room refilling a pitcher of mead when the first whisp of Robin's name passed someone's lips at the king's table. Richard heard it, too, looked up and glared. James appeared too drunk to notice that he'd caught the eye of the king. When the words that were murmured mixed with what sounded like 'traitor' and 'betrayed' Much's ears perked up. He grew more incensed as the talk spread. Soon the whole room seemed alive with hatred, jealousy, and indignation. Robin... Legrand... the queen... traitors...
Carter heard the ugly rumors, too, as bitter and shocked voices snaked through the room. He saw the heat rise in Much's face and waved his squire to his side. Holding his goblet up, his face flashed with concern. His gaze met Much's and he shook his head as Much poured the mead.
Much's eyes grew large, angry, until suddenly he could no longer stand it. He pounded the pitcher onto the table so hard that it tipped and crashed to the pavilion floor. "I cannot believe this!" he shouted. The words were nothing but lies and deceit, and he didn't care if half of the king's private guard knew how he felt. He didn't care that this was supposed to be a celebration of the king's birthday.
"Tame your squire," one of the knights grumbled.
"Much, this is not the place-- Quiet," Carter urged.
"I will not be quiet. I cannot stand here and listen to these lies about Lord Locksley!" He shot a pleading look toward Carter then back to the king. "Your Majesty, please. Robin has defended your name against the likes of the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John, whom you and every good knight in this room know have been plotting to seize your throne! He has given up his lands and his titles, he lives in the forest like an outlaw and protects your crown. Robin saved your life and nearly died for you! He would never... never... harm the Queen Mother!"
"Much," Carter said quietly tugging at his tunic, "we will get to the bottom of th--"
Much would not be shushed. He pushed Carter's hand away and kept his focus on the king. "You sent Legrand to seek Robin's help because you trusted them. That trust was not misplaced, Your Majesty. You must not believe this message!"
"Much, please--"
"I cannot stay, My Lord." He bowed his head to King Richard and to the other nobles then hurried from the pavilion.
Carter stood up. "Your Majesty, if I may--"
Richard's face looked haggard, older. He'd merely meant to toast his mother's safe return to Aquitaine. He'd planned to tell Carter and Much of Robin's involvement later after the others left but Sir James, who'd had far too much wine, blabbed the shocking news out in front of his closest knights. Richard took a deep breath and said nothing--they were at war and reserving judgment 'til he'd heard his mother's side of the story might not be possible. He could only imagine her devastation if the news were true--Legrand and Robin traitors. Legrand dead. Two of his finest knights. He waved a hand at Carter.
"Much!" Carter called as he ran across the sand to catch up with his lover.
"Leave me alone!" Much cried as Carter's arm snaked across his shoulders.
"Much! I am on your side!" Carter exclaimed as Much pulled away from him. Carter grabbed him again and wrapped his squire in his arms, ignoring the stares from the men around them. Torchlight caught the glint in Much's eyes. Tears streamed down his face and he buried his head against Carter's shoulder. "It'll be all right," Carter whispered before he led him to their tent.
"Lies! All of it," Much shouted as Carter pulled the tent flap down behind them. "The sheriff put Prince John up to this. You know Robin--" Much paused realizing that Carter could count on one hand the number of days he'd known his former master. "And Legrand... he paid little mind to me when I was Robin's manservant but you knew him, didn't you?"
Carter ran his fingers along Much's jaw line and nodded. "Legrand was a good man, one of the bravest knights who served in the king's guard. He was a fierce competitor, one who bested me now and then in games though I'd heard Robin took him down many times." Carter noticed that elicited a small smirk from Much. "But he would never turn against the king. If he is dead, as Prince John's message said, it is because he defended the Queen Mother to his death."
"Surely the king knows that! Why would he believe the word of his brother?" Much paced, not an easy thing to do in the narrow space between their cots. "That blackguard wants his throne! He and the sheriff are in this together."
"You're right, Much. And the king will learn the truth. It's only a matter of time before a message arrives from Queen Eleanor. And we will send a message to Robin."
Much wanted to believe Carter. He ran a hand across his forehead. "Messengers can be waylaid," he said, remembering that Roger of Stoke never delivered Robin's message about the Black Knights to the king.
"Then when the king returns to England, the truth will be told," Carter proclaimed, pulling Much's hands into his. "He listened to every word you spoke. He won't take these accusations lightly. Now calm down."
Much took a deep breath and blew it out hard. "I shouldn't have yelled at the king."
Carter nodded. "True. It could be a hanging offence."
"What?!"
"Shh! There are no guards here to drag you away. I assume the king will find other ways to punish us."
"Us?" Much paled, his blue eyes wide. "What do you mean?"
Carter tried to keep a straight face. "You are my squire. It's obvious from your outburst that I've not trained you properly."
"What will he do?"
"Let's hope he doesn't tie us up," Carter teased, trying to make light of the subject.
"That is not funny," Much chided him.
Carter turned serious. "Would you promise me something?" he asked as he pulled Much into his arms.
"Anything," Much replied.
"Everyone in the camp will know of Prince John's message by morning's light. There will be gossip, and men who once called Robin 'friend' will speak of him as a traitor to the king. You must... must promise that you will hold your tongue. No matter what is said, promise me this."
Much agreed reluctantly and the two lovers curled close together on the mat that served as both bed and floor in their tent. Dawn would come far too soon, and with it another day of scouting the land and villages to the east toward Jerusalem, another day with Saracen raiders attacking their flanks. Carter watched Much drift toward sleep. He ran a finger softly across his forehead, grateful when he heard the soft snores and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Outside the tent a half dozen drunken knights stumbled toward their own respite. Rising carefully, Carter stood up, rubbed his eyes, and headed back to see the king.
>>>---------------->>
Torchlights revealed a nearly deserted pavilion except for three knights who remained keeping the king's company. Sitting to either side of the Lionheart, they communed over wine and the remnants of the feast. James looked less intoxicated than he had when he'd made the damning revelation about Robin and Legrand. Not one word was slurred as he told the tale of a Genoese soldier who'd wandered away from camp the evening before to answer nature's call and ended up being chased back by Saracen raiders, his breeches down around his ankles. The knights and the king roared with delight but the men fell quiet when Richard waved Carter in.
Carter hurried to the king's side and fell to one knee. "Your Majesty-- I beg your forgiveness," he implored.
Richard leaned toward the younger man and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. It was by no means an unusual gesture but Carter felt the hair on his neck rise certain that James' eyes were boring into the back of his head. "Sit," the king said waving at James and the others to move away as he pointed Carter to the bench by his chair.
James tensed but withheld the typical glare he reserved when the handsome young knight had the king's attention. The other two men merely nodded politely and shuffled to the far end of the table.
"How is he?" the king asked, his forehead pressed to Carter's.
"The accusations are hurtful--"
"And will get worse as you well know," Richard replied.
Carter nodded, his fist clenched tightly in defiance. "Words... lies... hate... can kill, Your Majesty. Much is right about Robin. He's an honourable man."
Richard breathed in a sigh, released it. "Did you know Robin when you served here before?"
"I knew of him. We never met," Carter replied. "He'd left by the time I joined your private guard."
"Then how can you be certain that he would not turn against me? Alliances come and go like the seasons." Richard had endured politics long enough to know that anyone could be bought for a price. He leaned forward on the table again, his eyes fixed on Carter. He knew this knight's heart. "You... are in love with Robin's former manservant," he said, his voice low so the others would not hear. "That easily might taint your reasoning. You know my feelings for the two of you. I envy the passion you share, but you cannot let that drive you."
It was the first time the king had openly and honestly acknowledged Carter's relationship with Much. Infatuations were common in the camps, lonely men who just needed to feel alive when they were so far from home. Liaisons came and went--like alliances, Carter thought--with the seasons. "Believe me, Sire, it does not," he said. He raised his voice to be certain the others heard. "My belief in Robin comes from seeing his actions in your name. You and your good knights always spoke so highly of him. Was he not called the best fighter, the best archer, the best swordsman? Most loyal. All seemed to agree how great he was."
Richard noticed that James and his other two knights were nodding. Truer words were never spoken yet he was certain he detected resentment. "Do I hear a hint of jealousy, Lord Carter?"
"Words colour our impressions too often. And any who have your favour must deal with others' perceptions, Sire," the younger man said, his gaze trailing toward James then back to the king.
"And would the perception of losing favoured status cause a man to betray me?"
Carter drew back in surprise. "What? You mean Legrand, Your Majesty?"
"He felt he was being dismissed when I sent him to find Thesaurus Patriae." Richard could still picture the look on Legrand's face. He knew these men better than he knew his own brothers. He knew their competitive nature all too well. Had it turned to something more dark and ugly than he dared think? Did it outweigh their devotion to their king?
"I knew Legrand, Sire. It's true we vied to be the best in your eyes--"
Richard half-smiled and did not miss Carter's glance toward the far end of the table. "Oh I should have liked to have had you, Legrand, and Robin here together."
Carter lowered his eyes. Richard eyed his favourite knight curiously. "Lord Carter? Why do I have a feeling there is something you've not shared with me?"
"What a man chooses to hear weighs heavily on his mind and in his soul." Carter pursed his lips. "It's not something I'm proud of, Your Majesty."
"I see it pains you greatly," the king observed as he ran his hand gently along the knight's jaw line. He noticed James and the other knights looking intently at them. "Leave us," he ordered, his voice booming. His blue eyes softened and met Carter's.
Carter's breath rattled in his throat. "Whilst I remained here in your guard my only desire was to be better than Robin, to train myself..." His voiced trailed off and he pressed his fist against his lips then looked up at Richard hoping the king would not think less of him. "I despised Robin and lived for one purpose only. I dreamed of meeting him because the one thing that would have made my brother's death worthwhile would be to kill the man who left him to die in that village."
Carter buried his head in his hands. Richard tilted his chin up, his face a mask. "Go on," he said quietly.
"I had him at swordpoint. I could think of nothing else but to take his life as he'd taken Thomas'. I was ready to run him through, Sire," Carter admitted. It had been nearly a year since he'd cornered Robin in the barn in Clun. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Robin told me he held Thomas when he died. He repeated words that Thomas would not have said to anyone but family. He must have loved Robin like a brother. I finally realized that the stories I'd heard here were tainted by my own hatred and jealousy and I knew that Robin felt the pain of Thomas' death as I had."
Richard dabbed at a tear that escaped Carter's eye and then brushed his lips with a gentle kiss. "Go back to your lover, Carter. Cradle him in your arms. Hold him tightly. Go."
"We have ruined your birthday."
The king waved him away with a gentle smile. "He needs you more than I do."
Carter hurried back to his tent and crawled beneath the blanket next to Much.
Much stirred. "You were with him?" he asked quietly.
"I went to apologize for your outburst and for deserting him on his birthday. He is very understanding. He told me to come back to you."
Much tugged Carter's arm over his chest. "The king is a very smart man," he said twining his fingers through Carter's hand.
Carter spooned his body around his squire's. The two lovers held each other tightly against the ugly tide of treasonous talk that would wash across the desert sands by daybreak.
>>>---------------->>
Robin was calm as always, never perturbed when words dribbled from Vaizey's mouth. He studied the faces of those gathered in the courtyard, his mouth curling into a tight smile when he saw his friends. Gisborne smirked, his dark eyes torn between watching the Lady Marian and Hood. Soldiers stood guard warily. It never failed that something was bound to go wrong whenever Hood was involved. But on this day Robin could not stop fate. He shot Much one final look. It's not your fault, he mouthed. His body dropped, legs dangling beneath him. He did not kick, did not fight the noose, but the momentum of the plunge made him swing from the hangman's rope. After a few moments his corpse stilled.
Suddenly the gang encircled Much trapping him like a wild animal. They glared and spit at him, jabbing sharp fingers into his chest.
"Why didn't you save him, Much?" Will asked.
"He believed in you, Much," Djaq said.
John nodded. "You let him down."
"He trusted you! You cleared your own name, Lord Much," Marian cried. "You were supposed to save Robin, too!"
"I tried, Marian. The king--"
"You are the traitor. You killed him!" Marian exclaimed as she slapped Much hard across the face.
Much bolted upright, his heart pounding. Drenched in a cold sweat, he gasped for breaths. His sudden movement woke Carter.
"What is it?" the knight said, sitting up quickly, his hand reaching for his sword. "Are we under attack?"
"No. Sorry," he said, his voice shaky. "Go back to sleep."
Carter's hand slipped from the hilt of his weapon. He rubbed his eyes and peered at his lover through the darkness. "You're upset."
"Better one than both of us. It was just a bad dream."
"Don't want to talk about it?"
"No." Much paused then spoke again. "Well, yes. But no."
"Much!"
"Robin... I saw them hang Robin." Trembling, Much ran his hand through his hair grabbing the locks, twisting them painfully as if to punish himself. He pursed his lips and sucked in a breath. "The gang was blaming me, saying I'd not done enough to clear his name. It's all my fault. We should be back in Sherwood by now."
Carter sighed. Five weeks had passed since the king's birthday, weeks spent waiting and wondering why the only word from England had been from Prince John and not from Queen Eleanor. He'd watched Much toss and turn in fitful sleep so many nights. Watched the pain on his face when the gossip and suspicious looks forced him to keep his earlier promise to Carter.
"I've failed him, Carter," Much said, "failed all of them. Don't allegiance, loyalty or trust mean anything during wartime? Can't they see that Robin is a good man?"
Carter pulled Much into his arms and comforted him despite a growing feeling that Much's heart might still belong to Robin. Robin this, Robin that... A year since they'd left Sherwood and Robin was never far from his squire's thoughts. Stop this! he told himself. He tipped Much's face toward his, ran his hand through his soft blond curls, and kissed him on the forehead. The drums and chants from the nearby Saracen stronghold had stopped, a momentary lull that on any other night would have made the quiet of the night its own glorious song against the stars and the moon outside the tent.
They lay wrapped around each other but Much squirmed and then looked up sharply. "What day is it?"
"I don't know. Thursday? What does it matter?"
"No, what is the date?" Much said insistently.
Carter thought for a moment, wondering why his lover was so upset. "The fourteenth of October, I think."
Much nodded, calmer now, and nestled his cheek against Carter's warm chest. The knight played his finger lightly along Much's face and smiled down into his beautiful, soft melancholy eyes. "Well?"
"It's Robin's birthday. Do you suppose the gang remembers? If I were there..." His thoughts drifted off when Carter sighed and his fingers trailed away from his face. It was almost as if he'd heard Carter thoughts.
"What would you do?" Carter asked with genuine interest surprising himself. They needed something less gloomy to talk about after weeks of hearing Robin's name cursed from one end of the camp to the other.
"I would surprise him with a roasted pig! A big, fat, juicy roasted pig!" Much took a deep breath as if he could smell the animal cooking over an open fire. "Everyone would be there. You, Djaq and Will, Little John. Maybe we'd invite the villagers--"
Carter smiled. "What about Marian?"
"Well, yes," he said with slight hesitation, "of course she'd--"
"Much, you are still jealous!"
"I am not!" He sat up and pouted.
Carter drew up on his elbows forgetting his own jealous moment and threw his lover a cheeky grin.
"Why would I feel jealous? I have you," Much reasoned. "Y'know it's funny - everyone splitting into couples. Djaq would say that she and Will were going to get honey. But why did it need two of them, hm? Honey is one of those things."
"Honey?" Carter frowned.
"It's a-- what do you call it when you use a sweet innocent word but what you really mean is something else?"
"A euphemism?"
"A euphemism. Exactly."
"Honey?" Carter laughed.
"Yeah. There must be plenty of honey going on back in Sherwood."
"Ah, so Will and Djaq--"
Much nodded. "--and Robin and Marian nipping off into the forest for long walks."
"So you got paired with Little John?"
"Robin said once we made an odd couple and I joked that if that's the way the pairings were going to go, I didn't fancy mine much. I don't think John took it personally. He was good company but... " Much grew quiet for a moment suddenly remembering the looks that passed between himself and John. They knew that something was missing in their lives. John had Alice once. He still yearned for her soft touch. You could hear it in his voice whenever he mentioned her name, see it on his face when they passed her old house in Locksley. And Much had... had... no one... at least not then. Not until Carter came into his life. He reached for Carter's hand and tugged it into his own, running his fingers back and forth across his palm.
"What is it?" Carter asked.
"Just thinking that John is all alone now. I'm glad I'm not anymore."
Carter squeezed Much's hand. "Mm... " Carter said licking his lips, all thoughts of Robin suddenly gone from his mind, "all this talk of honey is making me hungry."
"Well I don't think the mess tent is open at this time of night," Much replied with blue eyes so childlike that Carter had to smile. "I'm sure the cooks would not--"
Carter cuffed his lover's neck, his own eyes twinkling mischievously as he brushed his lips against Much's.
"Oh," Much sighed. "You mean honey," he said as Carter's mouth covered his with a bruising kiss and gently pushed him on to his back. The sounds of their short, rasping breaths, quiet moans, and whispered words of love were like a lullaby in the pre-dawn stillness.
>>>---------------->>
a/n: the story of the Genoese soldier is an actual incident recorded by one of the chroniclers of the 3rd Crusade.
Chapter 35 this way.... it's October 14 -- time to celebrate Robin's birthday!
Title: Denial, Ch. 34: Sticks and Stones...
Author: robinfanatic
Characters/Pairings: Much/Carter, King Richard; mentions of Robin, Legrand and the gang
Rating: PG-15
Genre: slash if you squint
Words: 3643
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; I just want to play in their universe
Notes This continues the 'Round-Robin' fic 'Denial'.
Beta'ed by darkentwisted & wastingyourgum
Summary: The sheriff and Prince John have twisted the events of Queen Eleanor's rescue in Nottinghamshire and their message about what transpired at Midsummer has arrived at the king's camp in the Holy Land. This story takes place prior to and during the events of 2x12, A Good Day to Die.
Want to play? Come join us! Check out the Rules and join in the Round Robin fun!
Previous Chapters: Summary of previous chapters...
Ch. 34: Sticks and Stones
by robinfanatic
The pavilion was crowded with the king's guard, twenty or so Knights Templar, and a handful of Hospitallers. Much was on the far side of the room refilling a pitcher of mead when the first whisp of Robin's name passed someone's lips at the king's table. Richard heard it, too, looked up and glared. James appeared too drunk to notice that he'd caught the eye of the king. When the words that were murmured mixed with what sounded like 'traitor' and 'betrayed' Much's ears perked up. He grew more incensed as the talk spread. Soon the whole room seemed alive with hatred, jealousy, and indignation. Robin... Legrand... the queen... traitors...
Carter heard the ugly rumors, too, as bitter and shocked voices snaked through the room. He saw the heat rise in Much's face and waved his squire to his side. Holding his goblet up, his face flashed with concern. His gaze met Much's and he shook his head as Much poured the mead.
Much's eyes grew large, angry, until suddenly he could no longer stand it. He pounded the pitcher onto the table so hard that it tipped and crashed to the pavilion floor. "I cannot believe this!" he shouted. The words were nothing but lies and deceit, and he didn't care if half of the king's private guard knew how he felt. He didn't care that this was supposed to be a celebration of the king's birthday.
"Tame your squire," one of the knights grumbled.
"Much, this is not the place-- Quiet," Carter urged.
"I will not be quiet. I cannot stand here and listen to these lies about Lord Locksley!" He shot a pleading look toward Carter then back to the king. "Your Majesty, please. Robin has defended your name against the likes of the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John, whom you and every good knight in this room know have been plotting to seize your throne! He has given up his lands and his titles, he lives in the forest like an outlaw and protects your crown. Robin saved your life and nearly died for you! He would never... never... harm the Queen Mother!"
"Much," Carter said quietly tugging at his tunic, "we will get to the bottom of th--"
Much would not be shushed. He pushed Carter's hand away and kept his focus on the king. "You sent Legrand to seek Robin's help because you trusted them. That trust was not misplaced, Your Majesty. You must not believe this message!"
"Much, please--"
"I cannot stay, My Lord." He bowed his head to King Richard and to the other nobles then hurried from the pavilion.
Carter stood up. "Your Majesty, if I may--"
Richard's face looked haggard, older. He'd merely meant to toast his mother's safe return to Aquitaine. He'd planned to tell Carter and Much of Robin's involvement later after the others left but Sir James, who'd had far too much wine, blabbed the shocking news out in front of his closest knights. Richard took a deep breath and said nothing--they were at war and reserving judgment 'til he'd heard his mother's side of the story might not be possible. He could only imagine her devastation if the news were true--Legrand and Robin traitors. Legrand dead. Two of his finest knights. He waved a hand at Carter.
"Much!" Carter called as he ran across the sand to catch up with his lover.
"Leave me alone!" Much cried as Carter's arm snaked across his shoulders.
"Much! I am on your side!" Carter exclaimed as Much pulled away from him. Carter grabbed him again and wrapped his squire in his arms, ignoring the stares from the men around them. Torchlight caught the glint in Much's eyes. Tears streamed down his face and he buried his head against Carter's shoulder. "It'll be all right," Carter whispered before he led him to their tent.
"Lies! All of it," Much shouted as Carter pulled the tent flap down behind them. "The sheriff put Prince John up to this. You know Robin--" Much paused realizing that Carter could count on one hand the number of days he'd known his former master. "And Legrand... he paid little mind to me when I was Robin's manservant but you knew him, didn't you?"
Carter ran his fingers along Much's jaw line and nodded. "Legrand was a good man, one of the bravest knights who served in the king's guard. He was a fierce competitor, one who bested me now and then in games though I'd heard Robin took him down many times." Carter noticed that elicited a small smirk from Much. "But he would never turn against the king. If he is dead, as Prince John's message said, it is because he defended the Queen Mother to his death."
"Surely the king knows that! Why would he believe the word of his brother?" Much paced, not an easy thing to do in the narrow space between their cots. "That blackguard wants his throne! He and the sheriff are in this together."
"You're right, Much. And the king will learn the truth. It's only a matter of time before a message arrives from Queen Eleanor. And we will send a message to Robin."
Much wanted to believe Carter. He ran a hand across his forehead. "Messengers can be waylaid," he said, remembering that Roger of Stoke never delivered Robin's message about the Black Knights to the king.
"Then when the king returns to England, the truth will be told," Carter proclaimed, pulling Much's hands into his. "He listened to every word you spoke. He won't take these accusations lightly. Now calm down."
Much took a deep breath and blew it out hard. "I shouldn't have yelled at the king."
Carter nodded. "True. It could be a hanging offence."
"What?!"
"Shh! There are no guards here to drag you away. I assume the king will find other ways to punish us."
"Us?" Much paled, his blue eyes wide. "What do you mean?"
Carter tried to keep a straight face. "You are my squire. It's obvious from your outburst that I've not trained you properly."
"What will he do?"
"Let's hope he doesn't tie us up," Carter teased, trying to make light of the subject.
"That is not funny," Much chided him.
Carter turned serious. "Would you promise me something?" he asked as he pulled Much into his arms.
"Anything," Much replied.
"Everyone in the camp will know of Prince John's message by morning's light. There will be gossip, and men who once called Robin 'friend' will speak of him as a traitor to the king. You must... must promise that you will hold your tongue. No matter what is said, promise me this."
Much agreed reluctantly and the two lovers curled close together on the mat that served as both bed and floor in their tent. Dawn would come far too soon, and with it another day of scouting the land and villages to the east toward Jerusalem, another day with Saracen raiders attacking their flanks. Carter watched Much drift toward sleep. He ran a finger softly across his forehead, grateful when he heard the soft snores and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Outside the tent a half dozen drunken knights stumbled toward their own respite. Rising carefully, Carter stood up, rubbed his eyes, and headed back to see the king.
>>>---------------->>
Torchlights revealed a nearly deserted pavilion except for three knights who remained keeping the king's company. Sitting to either side of the Lionheart, they communed over wine and the remnants of the feast. James looked less intoxicated than he had when he'd made the damning revelation about Robin and Legrand. Not one word was slurred as he told the tale of a Genoese soldier who'd wandered away from camp the evening before to answer nature's call and ended up being chased back by Saracen raiders, his breeches down around his ankles. The knights and the king roared with delight but the men fell quiet when Richard waved Carter in.
Carter hurried to the king's side and fell to one knee. "Your Majesty-- I beg your forgiveness," he implored.
Richard leaned toward the younger man and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. It was by no means an unusual gesture but Carter felt the hair on his neck rise certain that James' eyes were boring into the back of his head. "Sit," the king said waving at James and the others to move away as he pointed Carter to the bench by his chair.
James tensed but withheld the typical glare he reserved when the handsome young knight had the king's attention. The other two men merely nodded politely and shuffled to the far end of the table.
"How is he?" the king asked, his forehead pressed to Carter's.
"The accusations are hurtful--"
"And will get worse as you well know," Richard replied.
Carter nodded, his fist clenched tightly in defiance. "Words... lies... hate... can kill, Your Majesty. Much is right about Robin. He's an honourable man."
Richard breathed in a sigh, released it. "Did you know Robin when you served here before?"
"I knew of him. We never met," Carter replied. "He'd left by the time I joined your private guard."
"Then how can you be certain that he would not turn against me? Alliances come and go like the seasons." Richard had endured politics long enough to know that anyone could be bought for a price. He leaned forward on the table again, his eyes fixed on Carter. He knew this knight's heart. "You... are in love with Robin's former manservant," he said, his voice low so the others would not hear. "That easily might taint your reasoning. You know my feelings for the two of you. I envy the passion you share, but you cannot let that drive you."
It was the first time the king had openly and honestly acknowledged Carter's relationship with Much. Infatuations were common in the camps, lonely men who just needed to feel alive when they were so far from home. Liaisons came and went--like alliances, Carter thought--with the seasons. "Believe me, Sire, it does not," he said. He raised his voice to be certain the others heard. "My belief in Robin comes from seeing his actions in your name. You and your good knights always spoke so highly of him. Was he not called the best fighter, the best archer, the best swordsman? Most loyal. All seemed to agree how great he was."
Richard noticed that James and his other two knights were nodding. Truer words were never spoken yet he was certain he detected resentment. "Do I hear a hint of jealousy, Lord Carter?"
"Words colour our impressions too often. And any who have your favour must deal with others' perceptions, Sire," the younger man said, his gaze trailing toward James then back to the king.
"And would the perception of losing favoured status cause a man to betray me?"
Carter drew back in surprise. "What? You mean Legrand, Your Majesty?"
"He felt he was being dismissed when I sent him to find Thesaurus Patriae." Richard could still picture the look on Legrand's face. He knew these men better than he knew his own brothers. He knew their competitive nature all too well. Had it turned to something more dark and ugly than he dared think? Did it outweigh their devotion to their king?
"I knew Legrand, Sire. It's true we vied to be the best in your eyes--"
Richard half-smiled and did not miss Carter's glance toward the far end of the table. "Oh I should have liked to have had you, Legrand, and Robin here together."
Carter lowered his eyes. Richard eyed his favourite knight curiously. "Lord Carter? Why do I have a feeling there is something you've not shared with me?"
"What a man chooses to hear weighs heavily on his mind and in his soul." Carter pursed his lips. "It's not something I'm proud of, Your Majesty."
"I see it pains you greatly," the king observed as he ran his hand gently along the knight's jaw line. He noticed James and the other knights looking intently at them. "Leave us," he ordered, his voice booming. His blue eyes softened and met Carter's.
Carter's breath rattled in his throat. "Whilst I remained here in your guard my only desire was to be better than Robin, to train myself..." His voiced trailed off and he pressed his fist against his lips then looked up at Richard hoping the king would not think less of him. "I despised Robin and lived for one purpose only. I dreamed of meeting him because the one thing that would have made my brother's death worthwhile would be to kill the man who left him to die in that village."
Carter buried his head in his hands. Richard tilted his chin up, his face a mask. "Go on," he said quietly.
"I had him at swordpoint. I could think of nothing else but to take his life as he'd taken Thomas'. I was ready to run him through, Sire," Carter admitted. It had been nearly a year since he'd cornered Robin in the barn in Clun. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Robin told me he held Thomas when he died. He repeated words that Thomas would not have said to anyone but family. He must have loved Robin like a brother. I finally realized that the stories I'd heard here were tainted by my own hatred and jealousy and I knew that Robin felt the pain of Thomas' death as I had."
Richard dabbed at a tear that escaped Carter's eye and then brushed his lips with a gentle kiss. "Go back to your lover, Carter. Cradle him in your arms. Hold him tightly. Go."
"We have ruined your birthday."
The king waved him away with a gentle smile. "He needs you more than I do."
Carter hurried back to his tent and crawled beneath the blanket next to Much.
Much stirred. "You were with him?" he asked quietly.
"I went to apologize for your outburst and for deserting him on his birthday. He is very understanding. He told me to come back to you."
Much tugged Carter's arm over his chest. "The king is a very smart man," he said twining his fingers through Carter's hand.
Carter spooned his body around his squire's. The two lovers held each other tightly against the ugly tide of treasonous talk that would wash across the desert sands by daybreak.
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Robin was calm as always, never perturbed when words dribbled from Vaizey's mouth. He studied the faces of those gathered in the courtyard, his mouth curling into a tight smile when he saw his friends. Gisborne smirked, his dark eyes torn between watching the Lady Marian and Hood. Soldiers stood guard warily. It never failed that something was bound to go wrong whenever Hood was involved. But on this day Robin could not stop fate. He shot Much one final look. It's not your fault, he mouthed. His body dropped, legs dangling beneath him. He did not kick, did not fight the noose, but the momentum of the plunge made him swing from the hangman's rope. After a few moments his corpse stilled.
Suddenly the gang encircled Much trapping him like a wild animal. They glared and spit at him, jabbing sharp fingers into his chest.
"Why didn't you save him, Much?" Will asked.
"He believed in you, Much," Djaq said.
John nodded. "You let him down."
"He trusted you! You cleared your own name, Lord Much," Marian cried. "You were supposed to save Robin, too!"
"I tried, Marian. The king--"
"You are the traitor. You killed him!" Marian exclaimed as she slapped Much hard across the face.
Much bolted upright, his heart pounding. Drenched in a cold sweat, he gasped for breaths. His sudden movement woke Carter.
"What is it?" the knight said, sitting up quickly, his hand reaching for his sword. "Are we under attack?"
"No. Sorry," he said, his voice shaky. "Go back to sleep."
Carter's hand slipped from the hilt of his weapon. He rubbed his eyes and peered at his lover through the darkness. "You're upset."
"Better one than both of us. It was just a bad dream."
"Don't want to talk about it?"
"No." Much paused then spoke again. "Well, yes. But no."
"Much!"
"Robin... I saw them hang Robin." Trembling, Much ran his hand through his hair grabbing the locks, twisting them painfully as if to punish himself. He pursed his lips and sucked in a breath. "The gang was blaming me, saying I'd not done enough to clear his name. It's all my fault. We should be back in Sherwood by now."
Carter sighed. Five weeks had passed since the king's birthday, weeks spent waiting and wondering why the only word from England had been from Prince John and not from Queen Eleanor. He'd watched Much toss and turn in fitful sleep so many nights. Watched the pain on his face when the gossip and suspicious looks forced him to keep his earlier promise to Carter.
"I've failed him, Carter," Much said, "failed all of them. Don't allegiance, loyalty or trust mean anything during wartime? Can't they see that Robin is a good man?"
Carter pulled Much into his arms and comforted him despite a growing feeling that Much's heart might still belong to Robin. Robin this, Robin that... A year since they'd left Sherwood and Robin was never far from his squire's thoughts. Stop this! he told himself. He tipped Much's face toward his, ran his hand through his soft blond curls, and kissed him on the forehead. The drums and chants from the nearby Saracen stronghold had stopped, a momentary lull that on any other night would have made the quiet of the night its own glorious song against the stars and the moon outside the tent.
They lay wrapped around each other but Much squirmed and then looked up sharply. "What day is it?"
"I don't know. Thursday? What does it matter?"
"No, what is the date?" Much said insistently.
Carter thought for a moment, wondering why his lover was so upset. "The fourteenth of October, I think."
Much nodded, calmer now, and nestled his cheek against Carter's warm chest. The knight played his finger lightly along Much's face and smiled down into his beautiful, soft melancholy eyes. "Well?"
"It's Robin's birthday. Do you suppose the gang remembers? If I were there..." His thoughts drifted off when Carter sighed and his fingers trailed away from his face. It was almost as if he'd heard Carter thoughts.
"What would you do?" Carter asked with genuine interest surprising himself. They needed something less gloomy to talk about after weeks of hearing Robin's name cursed from one end of the camp to the other.
"I would surprise him with a roasted pig! A big, fat, juicy roasted pig!" Much took a deep breath as if he could smell the animal cooking over an open fire. "Everyone would be there. You, Djaq and Will, Little John. Maybe we'd invite the villagers--"
Carter smiled. "What about Marian?"
"Well, yes," he said with slight hesitation, "of course she'd--"
"Much, you are still jealous!"
"I am not!" He sat up and pouted.
Carter drew up on his elbows forgetting his own jealous moment and threw his lover a cheeky grin.
"Why would I feel jealous? I have you," Much reasoned. "Y'know it's funny - everyone splitting into couples. Djaq would say that she and Will were going to get honey. But why did it need two of them, hm? Honey is one of those things."
"Honey?" Carter frowned.
"It's a-- what do you call it when you use a sweet innocent word but what you really mean is something else?"
"A euphemism?"
"A euphemism. Exactly."
"Honey?" Carter laughed.
"Yeah. There must be plenty of honey going on back in Sherwood."
"Ah, so Will and Djaq--"
Much nodded. "--and Robin and Marian nipping off into the forest for long walks."
"So you got paired with Little John?"
"Robin said once we made an odd couple and I joked that if that's the way the pairings were going to go, I didn't fancy mine much. I don't think John took it personally. He was good company but... " Much grew quiet for a moment suddenly remembering the looks that passed between himself and John. They knew that something was missing in their lives. John had Alice once. He still yearned for her soft touch. You could hear it in his voice whenever he mentioned her name, see it on his face when they passed her old house in Locksley. And Much had... had... no one... at least not then. Not until Carter came into his life. He reached for Carter's hand and tugged it into his own, running his fingers back and forth across his palm.
"What is it?" Carter asked.
"Just thinking that John is all alone now. I'm glad I'm not anymore."
Carter squeezed Much's hand. "Mm... " Carter said licking his lips, all thoughts of Robin suddenly gone from his mind, "all this talk of honey is making me hungry."
"Well I don't think the mess tent is open at this time of night," Much replied with blue eyes so childlike that Carter had to smile. "I'm sure the cooks would not--"
Carter cuffed his lover's neck, his own eyes twinkling mischievously as he brushed his lips against Much's.
"Oh," Much sighed. "You mean honey," he said as Carter's mouth covered his with a bruising kiss and gently pushed him on to his back. The sounds of their short, rasping breaths, quiet moans, and whispered words of love were like a lullaby in the pre-dawn stillness.
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a/n: the story of the Genoese soldier is an actual incident recorded by one of the chroniclers of the 3rd Crusade.
Chapter 35 this way.... it's October 14 -- time to celebrate Robin's birthday!