Chapter Thirty

“My love, why must you go from me?” Marian asked plaintively. She never felt at rest without Robin at her side and especially now, so near her time. She laid her hands on the great swell of her belly as if to caress the babe within. His child, lad or lass—blessed child. But she wanted him with her for this birth.

She wanted him with her always.

Robin turned his head and looked at her with a smile in his eyes. By the Lady’s light, but she lived for his smiles. They echoed through her being, and allowed her to breathe.

But he straightened and slung his quiver over his shoulder, where he settled it with an unconscious, practiced movement. His brown hair slapped his back, and the morning light flowed over him like a benediction.

“You know I must. We have but one chance to rescue those men before they are hauled away to Nottingham.” His expression clouded. “I would leave no one in the Sheriff’s hands.”

“I do know that.” And he, along with his men, had made so many rescues in the past. “Yet, love, I feel a great uneasiness and dread.”

He came to her where she stood in the May dawn—Beltane light, that should have brought nothing but joy. He smoothed his hands down her arms with infinite gentleness, and the love inside her stirred, almost like pain.

“’Tis just that you are so near your time, Marian. It makes you anxious, but fear not—Lil will be here with you, and I will not be away long. I will be with you again this afternoon.”

“See that you are. I am not prepared to birth this child alone.”

“And I am not prepared to miss his or her arrival.” He leaned forward and kissed her; the sweetness of it poured through her like light, like need answered.

She curled her fingers around his wrists and spoke into his mind, You carry me with you always.

And he responded, as ever, Always, you carry my heart.

****

“Geofrey! Lillith! Marian, come!”

The cry pierced the quiet afternoon the way a hail of arrows pierced armor. All day long, ever since Robin’s departure, Marian had waited for it as she often waited for a storm to break over Sherwood, with an ache of distress. Now it came—the end of everything.

Suddenly a party of men burst into the village, carrying another between them. A litany broke out in Marian’s mind.

No, no, no, no, no, no—

People streamed from everywhere, wailing and exclaiming. Lil was there, her black hair hanging loose down her back, and the headman, Geofrey, with his great air of calm authority.

Marian stumbled to her feet and strove to see through all the backs in her way. She wanted to see. She did not want to see. She counted heads: Will Scarlet she saw—he turned and shot her a look, his face full of fear and agony. The front of his tunic matched his name. And John, the gentle giant, he cradled someone in his arms the way he might a child.

No, no, no, no, no, no—

She moved forward like someone caught in a dream, in a nightmare. They parted to let her through, and she floated up as if made of air.

“He lives.” Who spoke the words? Lil, who knelt, her hands already stained red and trembling visibly. “But it is bad.”

“Soldiers are after us.” The warning tore from Scarlet’s throat. “We cannot stay here.”

“I do not think we dare move him.”

“If we stay here—if they take him—he will die for sure.”

The voices came and went in Marian’s ears, pounded like her pulse. She stared down at the man sprawled on the ground. His eyes were closed, his face still, his body awash with blood. But she could feel him, feel him still.

Robin!

I am sorry, my love. I did not know. Or he would never have left her. She could not bear for him to leave her.

You must remain with me. Robin, come awake now!

“—must go into Sherwood. The magic there may well save him.” Another voice—Alric, their holy man.

Aye, Marian thought, finding hope for the first time. Sherwood would not let Robin go from her, not when he had given so much. Sherwood would hold him, protect him.

“Aye, let us take him to Sherwood,” she declared.

They gathered him up without further debate, the six of them together, his bearers crimson with his blood, and carried him to the magic. Marian walked holding his hand, so cold in hers, and the child inside her kicked wildly as if in protest.

“How did this happen?” Geofrey asked as they went.

“’Twas a trap,” Scarlet gasped. “The prisoners we sought were not even there. But the clearing was surrounded by soldiers. They aimed straight for him.”

John rumbled, “Two of our men, Seth and Michael, gave their lives so we could get Robin away.”

“How many wounds?” Marian told herself she did not hear despair in Lil’s voice.

“Six.” John’s voice faltered. “I counted six.”

No, no, no, no, no, no—

“He is strong.” Alric. “And he belongs to Sherwood. He is Lord of Sherwood.”

Sherwood gives. And Sherwood takes.

“Put him down. Lay him down here. We are losing him.”

Tenderly, Robin’s bearers stretched him on the ground. Marian sank with him, his hand still caught in hers. She could no longer see his clothing for the blood. It burgeoned up from him the way a spring might bring forth water.

John’s big hands, already stained red, came out and touched Robin’s head.

Robin opened his eyes, deep blue and glowing. Marian knew her world lay there, everything she wanted, everything she was. No hardship could be too great if it brought her to him. He could not leave her. She could not face such terror.

Robin, I cannot live without you. Do not ask it of me. Anything but that.

You must, love. You are strong.

I am only strong because of you. Tears fell from her eyes, unstoppable. She could feel him still, feel his spirit, yet his hand grew ever colder in hers.

I will always be here in Sherwood.

“Too many wounds,” Lil murmured. “Too much blood.”

Robin’s eyes fluttered closed.

No! Marian screamed at him.

The others worked over him desperately. Lil’s eyes met Marian’s for a terrible moment; the healer shook her head.

Marian cried aloud, “Do not leave me, Robin—you cannot!”

His eyes opened, their light not yet dimmed. Surely her love, great as it was, could hold him even from death.

“Please.” Her hot tears fell down on him one by one like rain. “You must stay with me. You must stay for your child.”

So beautiful, you are so beautiful. He spoke only into her mind, his lips waxen and still. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. Stay strong. Stay strong for me, Marian.

She gasped like a drowning woman. I cannot. My love, my love, my love, you are all my strength. I need you to keep my heart beating.

I do not go far. Watch for me. Listen for me. I do not leave you.

Inevitable as the setting sun, his eyes closed.

She wailed. Her pain rose up in a cry of maddened and uncomprehending protest.

“But I need you, Robin. I need your warmth. I need your touch. I need your light!”

You have them all.

The words sounded, strong and bright, in Anwyn’s mind. She could feel Robin’s arms around her, holding her so tight against him. She could feel his spirit wrapped around her, real and vital. Her cheek pressed to his chest, and there she could hear his heart.

His heart.

He stood before her, he lived, he breathed. Again.

Drops of water fell like tears from the trees that surrounded them. But there were no tears now, and no pain—only renewal, only relief, only promise.

Sherwood took. But oh, Sherwood gave.

They drew apart far enough to gaze into one another’s eyes. The face Anwyn saw was not Robin’s face but Curlew’s. She did not mind that, for the same beautiful light shone at her, the same great love.

Joy flowed through her, touched every part of her, eased all the restlessness and answered all the pain.

“’Tis you,” she breathed.

“Aye. I told you I would not go far.”

“It seemed an insurmountable distance. It seemed an age.” Regret arose, sudden and sickening. “But I failed you. I failed you and our daughter.”

“Your love never failed.”

He kissed her, and the last of the chains binding her heart fell away. She clung to him, knowing what she held in her hands—not just the man she loved, but a second chance. One thing is certain, she spoke into his mind, I will never fail you again.