Allan waited amidst the shadow corners of the inn. The fire was roaring bright and rich, but he had to still himself away from the glow of the flames, no matter how enticing they might be. Snow was falling steadily outside, it had started yesterday night and had continued into the morning. Winter had finally arrived at Nottingham. Again, Allan cursed for the umpteenth time his hatred for the cold, dreary season. He tugged his cloak around him. He only hoped Robin showed. He could see the faces of the guards monitoring him from around the inn. He licked dry, chapped lips; if he could notice them so clearly he only hoped that Robin somehow would not.
Suddenly a hooded dark figure stalked over to him, he took out a dagger and held it straight out at him. “Your name?” the figure croaked.
Allan nearly tumbled from his chair, “For the love of God, Robin, put that away before you stab a poor man's eye out!” he hissed.
The figure sheathed his weapon, drew up a chair opposite of Allan, but refused to lower his hood. “Sorry, I had to make sure it was you.”
“You knew damn well it was me!” Allan snapped.
“What information do you have?” Robin asked.
“The messenger,” Allan leaned in closer, “he's a decoy. The real message was sent out months ago.”
“For what purpose?” Robin asked, folding his hands in his cloak.
“Robin, from what I've heard...I still don't know exactly...”
“Allan...for what purpose?” Robin asked again.
“There is a plan, a plan to hold the King hostage in foreign territory.” Allan finished swiftly.
“And this was sent out months ago?” Robin said softly.
“Aye.”
Robin cursed louder than he meant to, “Allan, do you know what this means? The Black Knights could have been holding the King all this time. We may already be too late!”
“Dunno 'bout that. I think the plan is to keep the King alive and well.” Allan said.
“I don't want you to think, I want you to know.” Robin sighed and rubbed his forehead, just above his eyes, “Go back to the Castle, contact me when you know more. Immediately.”
Allan nodded, “What will you do in the meantime?”
“If the King is being kept alive. There will more than likely be a ransom. I'm going to raise one.” Robin growled before disappearing into the crowds of the inn.
Alan exhaled in relief. There was no plan to capture the king, but it would serve to keep Robin distracted for a time until the Black Knights convened again in Nottingham. By that time Robin would surely realize he had been duped, when no messages for ransoms arrived.
He rose to his feet, gave his cloak a tug and nodded to one of the guards to signal he was ready to leave. He made his way out into the lightly falling snow. If he was grateful at all to be back in the Castle it was only because he would not be spending another winter freezing to death back in the forest.
The Castle Gates opened before him and he hastily made his way past the Grounds and into the torch-lit halls. The gloominess of the outside only added to the darkness inside. Without the sun to filter in through the windows, the Castle was looking more and more like a dungeon each day.
He blinked as he saw Lynna, bundles of broken strands of yarn in her arms and streams of them trailing along the floor beside her feet. “Need some help, girl?” Allan offered.
“No.” Came the curt reply and Lynna continued to hobble down the dark hallway.
“Are you sure? Looks like that bundle's twice as big as you!” Allan's joke failed to produce even a smile from the girl.
YOU ARE READING
The Storyteller
Fanfiction(A Robin Hood BBC fanfic) After suffering the loss of Marian, Robin Hood has fallen into despair and Sir Guy is rapidly spiraling into madness. The imprisonment of a Locksley weaver girl and storyteller may recall them both to life. One will find hi...
