Date: Tue, 1 Nov 1994 03:44:38 EST Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Jacquie Groom <100045.3717@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: Name of the Sword pt 2 of 5 She couldn't sleep that night. So many, many years ago. But it seemed like yesterday to her. Was it really eight hundred years since she had stood at Nottingham Castle, one face in the crowd, watching King Richard reclaim his land ? So long since she had seen the outlaw, Robin i' the Hood, appear with his men to stand by Richard's side ? How could she forget Robin Hood ? Not the fair-haired, aristocratic Immortal she had come to see, but the first son of Herne. Robin of Loxley, with his dark hair and his forest-green eyes. Eyes which could look through you, see into your soul. Eyes you could remember through the centuries. A man in a million. But he had died. Shot through by the Sheriff's arrows, dying so that his companions could live. Dying for the people, for the country. The Summer king, who dies to rise again. And Robin Hood rose again, when Herne called Robert of Huntingdon, son of the Earl, to be his son. And, taking up the mantle of the Hooded Man in the forest of Sherwood, wielding Albion for the good of the people, the common folk even began to forget that Robin Hood had ever worn a different face. But some did not forget. Marion, Loxley's wife, did not forget. And although she loved Huntingdon dearly, she could not bring herself to risk losing her love a second time. And so she fled, and took refuge in Halstead Priory. And that was where she, Elenore, had met her. Also seeking refuge, on holy ground, away from the Game, away from the bustle and the dangers of the Crusades. And, wandering round the grounds, she'd been unaccountably drawn to the tall, solemn girl, whose eyes seemed to cry out in pain. "May I sit here ?" Elenore asked, sitting on the bench without waiting for a reply. The other novice nodded, smiling shyly up at her. "Please do," she said. "Thanks," Elenore responded, leaning back on the wall, enjoying the late autumn sunshine. After sitting in silence for a moment, she reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out an apple. "I'm new here," she said with a smile. "Elenore of Brionville. Can't get used to the food yet. I always seem to be hungry !" Marion turned and smiled. "I'm Sister Marion. Don't worry - if I managed to get used to this life, you should be able to." "I'm not so sure," Elenore said with a sigh. "It all seems so - quiet." "Peaceful," Marion agreed. "I love it. But -" She paused, a strange, wistful look on her face. "But what ?" the Immortal asked, curious about this quiet, beautiful novice. She shrugged. "Sometimes - just sometimes, I miss the freedom. The trees, the night sky above the campsite ..." Elenore took a bite out of her apple. "Campsite ? " she asked. A slightly bitter look marred the novice's face. "Haven't you heard all the others gossiping about me ? The Wolfhead's wife ? The outlaw nun ?" Suddenly she recognised her. "You're Marion of Leaford ? Loxley's wife ? But what are you doing here ?" Marion shrugged. "Why do any of us end up here ?" She sat in silence for a moment, punctuated only by Elenore crunching on her apple. "Robin died," she said briefly. "I'm sorry," Elenore said, impulsively taking Marion's pale, thin hand and squeezing it. "He was a wonderful man. I met him, years ago, when I came with Richard to Nottingham." "He was," Marion agreed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "And you've been here ever since ?" She shook her head. "I was with Robin's successor for a while. But ..." She fell silent once more. Elenore glanced at her pale face. "It's all right," she said comfortingly. "I didn't mean to pry." But Marion shook her head. "It's good to talk. Sometimes I feel as if it's almost a dream - something that happened to someone else. Robert - we called him Robin - was such a sweet boy. And I began to care for him. But there was an - incident. I thought him dead, and it nearly killed me. When I found out that he was alive, I knew I could not live through the agony of losing someone I loved again. So I came here." Elenore sat and considered her words. Marion had lost two men she loved . And the pain had driven her to seek refuge in a convent. Whereas she, the immortal, could love and lose men through countless lifetimes. How would she cope ? Her reverie ended as she realised Marion was speaking once more. "He's still out there somewhere. In Sherwood, with his men. My friends." She put her hands piously together. "I pray for them." And then another lightening chance came over her face, as she laughed gently. "Not that they'd be grateful for that." As she spoke, a bell rang in the chapel, and she folded her hands in the large sleeves of her habit, and smiled at Elenore. "Lauds," she said. "We'd better go." "I suppose so," Elenore said with a certain degree of reluctance. She wasn't quite sure if the life of a nun was the right one for her. But Holy Ground was what she needed, and there were few other possibilities for a woman. Hurrying across the orchard, she picked up another windfall, and dropped it in her pocket. You never know ... "Is this Sherwood ?" Richie asked the next morning, shivering slightly in the crisp morning air, as they tramped through the autumn leaves towards the trees. "I thought it would be bigger." "It used to be," Elenore said. "And back in those days, we wouldn't be wandering around like this. It used to be a dangerous place, full of outlaws. And not only relatively friendly ones like Robin. There -" She broke off, a strange look on her face. She glanced at Duncan. He nodded briefly. Richie peered into the trees. "He's out there ?" he asked. "Yes," Duncan said. And then he smiled, and pointed into the greenery. A man was standing in the undergrowth. Tall, with long, fair hair hanging loose round his shoulders. He was dressed in brown jeans and shirt, with a leather, ringed tunic over the top. Elenore brushed away the brambles blocking her path, and wrapped her arms round him. "Robert !" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Holding him at arms length, she looked him up and down, shaking her head. "You're not still wearing that tunic, Robin ?" she said with a twinkle in her eye. "You were wearing that the first time I saw you." There was something else about him which reminded her of the first time they had met. The look on his face. A look of utter despair. It was late autumn; the apples were ripe, and the novices had been drafted in to help pick them. Elenore, delighting in the extra freedom and exercise, had climbed willingly into one of the trees. Up there, perched high above the Enclosure wall, she could see the surrounding trees of Sherwood. While Sister Marion, on the ground, fetched another basket, she gazed out into the reds and golds of the autumn forest. Suddenly, a glint of sun on metal caught her eye. Shading her eyes, she peered into the undergrowth. Someone was out there. A flash of golden hair. "Sister ? Is anything wrong ?" Marion had climbed up beside her. Elenore tore her eyes away from the trees. "I just thought I saw someone out there. Hiding in the forest." Marion shaded her eyes against the low sun, and followed her friend's pointing hand. Her face fell. "It's Robin," she said baldly. "Robin Hood ? Your Robin ? What's he doing here ?" "He's not my Robin any more," she said sharply. She was silent for a moment, then swung her legs over the branch. "He must want to see me. But ..." Her voice trailed off. Elenore looked at her. "You don't want to see him," she stated. Marion shook her head. "I've found peace, here in Halstead. But seeing him, or any of my friends, brings it all back. The pain, and the joy. The friendship and the agony. And I begin to wonder whether I'm doing the right thing. And they tell me about Robert, and how miserable he is ... Elenore, I can't go through it all again." She collapsed to the ground, her face buried in her hands. Elenore jumped down from the tree, and hovered over her friend. "Would it help if I saw him ?" she asked. Marion glanced up at her through tear-stained eyes. "Would you do that for me ?" she asked, slightly warily. Elenore nodded. "You've helped me so much since I arrived. It seems the least I can do in return." The other nun wiped her tears away, then gave a slightly shaky smile. "I've never had another woman for a friend," she said. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd see Robert." "What should I say ?" "Tell him I'm happy. That I'm well. That I've found what I was looking for." She paused for a moment. "That I miss my friends." Elenore put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry," she said quietly. "I'll talk to the Lady Abbess. I'll see Robin for you." He was standing in the Abbess' room, his back to her. Tall and blonde, he had a longbow slung over one shoulder, and a sword hung from his waist. He turned as she approached. "Marion ?" There was a note of pleading in his voice that made her heart cry out. "No," she said softly. "A friend of hers." He looked at her, straight in the eyes. And then she sensed it. That strange, not-quite-buzz. The faint hint, available only to those who were most sensitive. Robin Hood, whoever he really was, was also a pre-immortal. She crossed over to him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Marion sent -" "Couldn't she even bear to see me herself ?" His voice broke. Elenore shook her head. "She's been through some hard times. She's just beginning to pull herself together. To see you now ..." He grabbed her hand; pulled her close. He looked so pale; almost haggard. Without quite knowing why, she lifted a hand to his cheek. "You should take more care of yourself," she said. He sighed; a heartbreaking sound. "How can I, when all I can do is think of her?" He tightened his grip on her hand. "Does she still love me ?" "I don't know. She says she's well. She's at peace." "Does she talk of me ?" Elenore did not know what to say. She could not give him false hope, yet she was so aware of his pain, and wished she could help him. "She said she misses her friends," she said eventually. "But not me." He broke away from her, and buried his head in his hands. After a moment, he turned and headed for the door. As he opened it, he glanced back at her. "Thanks for seeing me," he said. "Tell Marion I love her, if you can." "Take care, Robin," Elenore said with a faint smile. "I'll see you again." That day, long long ago, his face had held the same bleak expression she saw now. "Oh, Robert," she whispered with a groan. "What have you been doing to yourself ?" He held her close to his chest, then nodded to Duncan. "Good to see you," he said, with a nod of his head. "My liege," Duncan said with a grin, bending his knee. Robert raised an eyebrow. "Still going on with that nonsense ?" Duncan nodded. "As long as we're both here." The blonde immortal's face crumpled. "We're all here,aren't we ? That's the problem. We are here, and they - Marion, Herne, Will, Nasir, Claire - they're all dead." Elenore's ears pricked up. "Claire ? Who's Claire ?" she asked. But Robin Hood had disappeared. "Where'd he go ?" Richie asked, turning round in astonishment. "Bother !" Elenore said, with a certain restraint. "I wish he wouldn't do that !" "Are you going after him, or shall I ?" MacLeod asked, leaning on Albion. Elenore sighed. "Give me Albion. I can make a good guess of where he's gone. Can you find your way to Herne's Cave ?" MacLeod nodded. "Right - see you there." Then she, too, slipped into the undergrowth and disappeared. Richie sat down on a tree stump, and ran his fingers through his red-gold hair. "So that's Robin Hood," he said eventually. MacLeod laughed. "Is he always so ..." Richie searched for the right word. "Miserable ?" he finished. "He's lived a long time, Richie. And he's had to bear some pretty hard burdens along the way. But we've spent some good times together, over the centuries." "Why did you bow to him ?" Richie asked. "I've never seen you do that before." Duncan perched on the tree stump, his back to Richie's. "Ancient history," he said pensively. "His father - or adoptive father, we've never been able to work that one out - the Earl of Huntingdon, was brother to the King of Scotland. We were very, very drunk one evening, at a small inn not far from here. And," he said, started to grin, "Somehow or other, I ended up swearing allegiance to him as my rightful king. Just a joke, but we've kept it up ever since." "Right," the younger man said slowly. "But what is it about him ? What are all these burdens he's got to deal with ?" MacLeod shrugged. "You'd better ask Elenore about all that. She knows more about it than I do. " He got up, and headed into the trees. Richie did not follow. "I'll go back to the car," he called out. Strange, how all the trees began to look like each other. Richie, crunching through the leaves, peered up at the grey sky. He rubbed his arms. Surely he should have got to the car by now ? Fighting back a sudden feeling of panic, he carried on. The car park must just be down the track a bit further. And then the path fizzled out, and a large holly bush blocked his way. He swung round. Nothing looked familiar. There were no signs of civilisation at all, no sounds barring the birdsong and the soft rustle of the leaves falling from the trees. There was no doubt about it. Richie was lost. He sat down for a moment, wondering what to do next. He'd only been walking for fifteen minutes or so; he couldn't be far away from the car. And Duncan and Elenore were out there somewhere. It wasn't all that bad. And then the mist came down. He'd never thought of himself as the kind of person to get scared. A toughened young thug by the age of seventeen, expert at house-breaking and picking pockets, he'd then followed it up by over a year in the company of the Immortal who had adopted him. And such things he'd seen ... beheadings, threats and dangers. A world he never knew existed. A world he still had trouble believing in, on those rare occasions when he set his mind to thinking about it all. But there was something about the eerie whiteness which surrounded him which was totally outside his experience. It was as if the forest was watching him, listening to him. Used to the city streets, the lack of lights, of signposts, of signs of civilisation made him feel totally alone in a strange world. There were shadows in the mist. Vague shapes, dancing, moving around him. He tried calling out. "Duncan ! Elenore !" But there was no answer. He set off through the mist. He could barely see a yard in front of him. And before he'd taken more than half a dozen steps, he tripped over a trailing root, and tumbled headlong into the damp leaves underfoot. He lay there for a while, winded, groggy. The mists around him swirled and appeared to coalesce into shapes - human shapes, animal shapes. He saw antlers; figures running. A man with two curved swords raised high in the air. Other figures followed - some tall, some smaller. One tremendously fat. A woman, bow raised high. And a man with flowing hair, and green eyes which seemed to pierce through the milky white fog. And then someone was with him, helping him to get up. Richie peered upwards, and saw the blonde hair and blue-grey eyes of Robert of Huntingdon. "You !" he muttered, rubbing his head. Robert nodded. "Me. Are you all right ?" He gave a faint smile. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name." "It's Richie. Richie Ryan. I'm a friend of MacLeod's." "I guessed that. What happened ?" Richie shrugged. "I got lost. And then the mist came down -" He stopped for a moment, rubbing his head. "It was so weird .." "What was ?" Robert asked. Richie shook his head. "Figures in the mist," he said eventually. "I must have bumped my head, or something. I could have sworn I saw -" He broke off. "Nah - it was nothing." But the Immortal seemed interested. "Tell me," he urged. "Sherwood - can be a very strange place at times. Full of ghosts. We're closer to the past, here." Richie glanced around, his eyes wide. "Ghosts ?" he asked. He shuddered. But he thought for a moment. "There was a man with curved swords," he said after a while. "And a big guy - really tall. And a couple of others." Robin said nothing. "And then there was a girl. Looked pretty. And a man. Long dark hair. And these piercing green eyes ... came right out of the mist, and seemed to look right at me." "My men," Robert said after a while. "As in - Robin Hood and his Merry Men ? Really ?" "Really," Robert said. "Nasir, the Saracen. Much, Will, Tuck, Little John - their spirits still roam free over Sherwood." "And the girl ? And the man with the green eyes ?" Robert stopped. "Marion," he said abruptly. "And Loxley, my predecessor." "Really ?" Richie turned to ask him more. But the Immortal was gone. "Robert?" he called. But there was no reply. "I wish he wouldn't do that !" Richie grumbled. "Robert!" =========================================================================