Robin Hood

"The people will love you if you're kind to them, protect them."

Her clear eyes were beautiful in their beseeching. But it was her words that compelled. They rang true to him - he was not clever or wily, but he was physically strong, and to stand against evil felt right.

The difficulty came in defining evil. It had felt so clear, when the Sheriff had explained it. Outlaws, those who eschewed lawful society.

"She's not to be trusted. Come now, Gisborne. The people? The ones who support the law have been cowed into silence. Intimidate the lawless..."

How to decide?

There were advantages to being tall, and those compounded when a youth spent drawing a bow and swinging a sword gave breadth to the shoulders. So a weaponless brawl was a fine place for Guy.

“Oi!” The owner of the booming voice stood above the rest of the crowd, easily as big and broad as Guy was. The difference was, a charmingly broad smile was spread across his face. “Pick on someone yer own size, why doncha?” Little John bellowed.

A less charming grin spread across Guy’s own face. “Have at you!” he barked. Fists flew with joy and abandon.

The Sheriff was angry.

People unfamiliar with him wouldn't notice. His normal anger was not subtle; he raged, he fumed, he indulged in a hanging or torture of prisoners, or some light physical abuse on Guy. It burned brightly, but burned out quickly.

This anger, however, was a more insidious thing. It simmered, it seethed, presenting almost as calmness. Rationality. Objective detachment.

"Gisborne!" he said, and ice flowed through Guy's veins. "We need to talk about Lady Marian's latest slip in manners. Her recent behavior is a bit... incompatible with life."

Talking him out of this would not be easy.

The threat of torture was no idle one. The twisted snarl on Robin's face at his demands for a confession was animalistic, betraying his rage. The outlaw would have his due, his answers - and after that, would that be his justification to be judge and executioner, as well?

His passion was evident - his desire to do right by a King whose passions did not lie with tending to his kingdom - spilling English blood in foreign lands, instead. Robin's inability to justify it was clear in his anger at Guy...

It pleased Guy, to see that his barbs had borne fruit.

The deer were trumpeting, a cacophony that echoed through the forest. Their reputation for being shy, withdrawn creatures was overstated, Sir Guy had found - certainly in the King's forest. With his eyes closed, he could hear the deer more clearly; with his eyes closed, he could feel the sword at his throat, the cold metal of it, the sharp point just barely piercing his skin.

With his eyes closed, he didn't have to watch the outlaws loot the chest he had been tasked with guarding.

The deer were trumpeting in a way that sounded a bit too close to laughter.

"Robine Hoode! Vylez z toho lesa"! huláká šerif z Nottinghamu.

Nic.

"Neštvi mě! Vylez, kryso"!

Ještě hlasitější nic.

"Proč vlastně ještě nejste v Sherwoodu"? obrátí se šerif vztekle na své muže. Ti se na sebe rozpačitě podívají.

"Asi se - bojíme"? zkusí to jeden z lučištníků.

"Ach jo. Nevím, kdo je větší sebranka, jestli ti v tom lese, nebo tahle banda vyděšených fretek", zavrčí šerif.

"Ale šéfe, je fakt nutný dělat takový povyk kvůli..."!

Hrobové ticho.

"Kvůli... praseti"? troufne si dokončit větu zbrojnoš.

"Bylo to MOJE prasátko", odvětí důstojně šerif. "A já ho měl RÁD".

Lesem se pomalu šíří vůně vepřového.

Seděli u ohně a mluvili o zimě, i když jaro bylo v plném proudu. Nevěděli, co si počít s těžkým srdcem, i když byl čas oslav králova návratu. Cítili smutek nad tím, že s novým jarem už se nesejdou pod sherwoodskými duby.
"Vrátím se do Loxley," řekl Robin.
Will Scarlet chápavě kývl. I jeho čekalo rodné panství. Bratr Tuck měl své místo v klášteře. Much bude lovčím. Allan bude dál zpívat o jejich hrdinských činech.
"A kam půjdeš ty, Johne?" zeptala se lady Mariana.
Malý John se protáhl.
"Domů. Kam jinam? Někdo musí ze všech těch zbraní udělat něco užitečného."

Byl to chlapík jako víno - teď už notně kyselé,
ty tam byly nevšední dny, proměnlivé, veselé.
Teď jsou všechny jako jeden vyrovnané do řady
a hrdina setká se jen s berňákem a úřady.
Čas, kdy byl zván dobrodruhem, osamělým lovcem,
jsou dávno pryč a on - štramák - je slaměným vdovcem.
Kdysi pyšně nosil toulec, teď se ruka třese,
dávno není postrachem, co řádil v tomhle lese.
Chlapi už si našli ženy a upletli sviště,
čas je ke všem neúprosný, není žádné příště.
Tak to končí s těmi, kteří myslí jenom na Sherwood,
neslavně tak dopadl prý i ten slavný Robin Hood.