EPILOGUE

"And so," Much fretted to Matilda months later, "you have to come to our camp and help Robin! We won't even blindfold you. I mean, you've been to our camp before and you weren't blindfolded then."

Matilda looked seriously at Much and Little John, knowing she would refuse them nothing. She would do anything to help Robin of Locksley, a man who had once saved her life, a man she had delivered into this world, a man she loved almost as a son.

"You're not so stupid as people say," she told Much, "bringing Little John along to persuade me. Rosa would never forgive me if I denied him anything! I'll come with you, but to be frank, I don't know what I can do. I can't bring Lady Marian back from the dead, and that's the only thing that will cure Robin."

"At least fix his shoulder!" Much cried. "We used to have Djaq, you see. She could cure anything! But she stayed behind in the Holy Land to marry Will, or Will stayed behind to marry her, and now we've got Tuck, and he saved Robin when Gisbourne threw him over the cliff, but Tuck didn't do a good job on Robin's shoulder. It still hurts him when he shoots, so he can't even enjoy shooting any more. And every day's a bigger and bigger struggle for Robin, and I can't take it!"

"Take a breath," Matilda advised. "I'll come with you. I'll do what I can to heal his shoulder, but only time can ease his heart."

"Goodbye, John," Rosa said sadly, taking baby Alice back from the big man.

Matilda worried the entire walk through Sherwood. She'd caught glimpses of Robin since he'd returned with his diminished gang and without his lady, continuing to fight injustice. He seemed a shadow of his former self, a ghost, a sleep walker. Always so vivid a presence in the past, he seemed faded, with misery etched on his face. He'd aged beyond his mere twenty-six years. Oh, now and again he'd pull himself together and deliver a rousing speech, execute a daring rescue, or even light up the forest with his radiant smile, but it was short lived, a sham. He'd lost most of his former swagger and his charm.

Arriving at last at the outlaw camp, Much called out, "Master! Little John and I have brought Matilda, to see about your shoulder."

Matilda saw Robin leaning on a rope ladder, lost in dreary thought. At Much mentioning her name, Robin lifted his eyes. Matilda drew her breath in sharply, she was so startled. His eyes, always so brilliant before, were dark and empty. His brave attempt to smile nearly broke her heart.

Tuck put down the cooking spoon and strode forward. "Who is this?" he demanded. "And why have you brought her here, without a blindfold?"

"Give it a rest, Tuck," Allan said, his tone seeped in annoyance. "She's with us."

"How do we know we can trust her?"

"How do we know we can trust you?" Allan shot back.

"Or you," Tuck parried, "for that matter?"

"Shut up!" Little John growled.

Matilda wondered at the change in the camp. When she'd been here before, Robin had been in charge. Even with the knowledge there was a spy in the camp, there had not been such an unpleasant atmosphere. There had been suspicion, yes, but brotherhood, and togetherness, and a sense of purpose had still reigned. Now, all of that was gone.

"Here's Robin," Much said, stepping over Kate to lead Matilda to his master.

Kate was sitting on her haunches at Robin's feet, staring up at him.

"If it isn't Kate," Matilda said. "The scraggly scarecrow of Locksley."

Allan snorted out an approving laugh.

"Shut up," Kate snapped. "Everyone knows you're a witch."

"Everyone knows you're a bitch," Matilda remarked.

"I won't allow a witch in this camp," Tuck announced.

"She's not a witch," Much explained. "She's a healer. She's here to see Robin. Master, show her your shoulder. She'll fix it for you."

"The right way," Allan said snidely, toward Tuck.

"And what did you do?" Tuck responded. "Tell lies, boast about nuns, and turn traitor?"

"Not bein' funny, but I never turned any of us over to Gisbourne, even when I worked for him!"

"I did that to help Robin. It worked, didn't it?"

"Let's watch one of us try it on you, and see how you like it."

Matilda waited for Robin to take control, but he didn't seem to notice the squabbling. "Take off your shirt," she told him. "Don't be shy. Remember, I've seen you in your altogether, when you were a baby."

Robin blankly pulled his shirt over his head, wincing in pain as he did. Kate sat up higher, taking notice.

"Down, Fido," Matilda ordered.

The healer carefully pressed her hands into Robin's shoulder, accessing the damage. "That's a new tattoo," she remarked.

"We got it in the Holy Land," Much explained. "A few months ago. It's a cross. It's over the scar he got, where Marian stitched up an arrow wound."

Matilda looked sharply at Robin, but he betrayed no sign of emotion. "I'm sorry I mentioned babies just now," she told him quietly.

Robin struggled to pull himself out of the depths of despondency. "How is Alice?" he asked politely. "And Rosa's well, I hope?"

"Both doing well. Hold still. Now, does this hurt?"

"Nothing hurts," he lied.

"Nothing and everything," Matilda said. "I am sorry, Robin. Losing your lady was bad enough, but losing your child, too..."

For the first time since she'd arrived, Matilda saw a glimmer of interest in Robin's eyes.

"What did you say?" he asked breathlessly.

"Child?" Much exclaimed. "What child?"

"You didn't know?" Allan asked. "Marian never told you?"

Robin's eyes were intense as they looked back and forth between Allan and Matilda. "Tell me now," he demanded.

"She was expecting your child," Matilda told him gently. "She told me it happened, her words, at Loaf Mass."

Robin's mouth hung open while his eyes welled up with tears. His breath was ragged as he struggled to contain his feelings.

"Pregnant," Much said quietly. "I knew it."

"Why didn't she tell me?" Robin cried out at last.

"I think she musta been, you know, waiting for your birthday," Allan guessed. "She was sewing a fancy baby hat. It was gonna be your birthday present."

Robin stepped over Kate and approached Tuck with a vengeance. Seizing him, he cried out, "Why didn't you let me die?"

Little John knew just how Robin felt. He'd felt very similar that night of Robin's birthday in the barn in Nettlestone when he'd cried, "I want to die! Let me die!" Will had held him then, until he'd regained his reason. He lumbered over to Robin and held him in a bear hug. Robin struggled to be free, then began sobbing savage cries.

...

"How is she?"

Will watched as his lovely wife sat on the sleeping patient's bed, counting her pulse.

"She is strong," Djaq said in amazement. "Nearly strong enough to travel."

"Still sad?"

"It will take time for her to get over her loss. And she will likely never become pregnant again. Gisbourne's sword saw to that."

"You brought her back from the dead twice," Will remarked, gazing in loving awe at his wife. "I wish Robin knew."

"I do not understand why the bird came back, with the message we sent still attached to its leg."

"Should we try again?"

"No. It would not do any good. Allan had the pigeon's mate in its cage when they left. I hope nothing bad has happened."

Will silently agreed. Neither one of them could know that Much accidentally mistook the gang's carrier pigeon for supper, and cooked it one night in the forest.

"The birds ought not to be apart," Djaq said. "They need to be together."

Will nodded his head. "Birds of a feather," he said.

...

THE END

Continued in my next story, SHE WAS MY WIFE.