Young Writers Society

Part One

-The Train-

The first Robin heard of the train was the rhythmic chugging of four large pistons and the rattling clank of the cars. Soon afterward, from their vantage on an old roman aqueduct they saw a plume of steam arising into the sky proceeded by the black engine rounding the corner bringing the train past the trees into the open air, the round boiler upon which was the smokestack, seemed to be screaming as the breaks were gently applied to slow the train as it rode the bridge above Robin and his men -perhaps it foresaw it’s passengers fate.

Made of large blocks of sandstone, the aqueduct was proof of the ancient Romans engineering feats, even thousands of years later, the British government trusted their old conqueror's irrigation system to hold up the London-Yorkshire rail link.

Chugging soundly, the great engine soon passed over them and Robin felt for a moment as if the bridge would crumble. The whining changed to a rumble that was felt more than heard. Soon it was over, and Robin signalled his men, each holding a rope with a grappling hook that they then began to swing, their dark coats swinging in the wind were of little camouflage now, but it was doubtful whether someone on the train would lean out so far and see them anyway. As for Robin himself, he wore a thick brown vest meant more to absorb blows than to look good underneath his green jacket, -it was not the attire of an English nobleman that Robin had worn regularly a few years before, yet there he was all the same.

Letting their hooks fly, each man found his target, and they all felt the sudden tug as the rope went taut, at which point they swung off the aqueduct out into the open air. They had a few precious moments to pull themselves up as the train flew along with them in tow, neither Robin, nor any of his men, felt like getting dragged against the hillside when the train left the bridge.

Little John was the first to make it up, by the time Robin was nearly within reach of the boxcar, his best friend’s burly hand reached out to him. Nearly everyone got up in time, however, despite some help from Robin and Little John, Cecil didn’t make it. As the young blonde haired boy let go of his rope and tumbled into the overgrown foliage near the rail line, Robin felt a pang of guilt, realising he was relieved. He hadn’t wanted Cecil to come in the first place, he was too young and inexperienced. He’d be fine, and they’d pick him up on the way back, Robin consoled himself.

“Well then,” Robin turned to his men and pulled out his revolver, Little John unslung his rifle from his broad shoulders, and brushed aside his dark locks, each man in turn followed suit along the train as they observed the person ahead of them do so, “Shall we?”

There was no hesitation among the men, and as windows broke and doors banged open, a few aggravated screams erupted from several cabins along with infuriated shouts, as the rich passengers realised they were being robbed.

Robin's gang consisted of roughly twenty men, each with a gun, at least two for each first class passenger car. Unlike his rowdy fellows who climbed along or over the train so as to burst through windows or in a hatch in the roof, Robin preferred to enter the door. It was a hard thing to forget the manners one had been taught from such an early age.

The car was only the second back from the locomotive and after gently prodding several purses from a few sour-faced ladies, Robin heard a shout up ahead. A defiant shout -that was never good.

Calling Little John who was just finishing up in his car, Robin said “I think there's a problem ahead. I’ll go check it out, you finish up here, but keep your ears open ‘ight?”

“Got’ it,” John answered, nodding, then turning to the ladies he began “well, looks like you lucky ladies get a second round, so how about it? We’ll start with the jewels, how ‘bout?”

Robin exited the car and tried to listen through the doorway to hear what was happening up ahead, but the rattling of the train drowned out any other noise. Opening the door cautiously he was immediately assaulted by the same defiant shout, only this time he comprehended its meaning and recognised a hint of panic in its tone.

“You there! Get in here! Now!” He did as told and found two of his men in front of him each with their hands in the air, beyond them were two officers with rifles, each wearing the red uniform of the Great British empire.

“Come on, now, stop standing by the door -no leave it open, just come on up, weapons on the floor. yeah I see that, put the gun down.”

Robin advanced slowly and as instructed pulled out the revolver he’d tried to hide under his coat. Holding it sideways, he slowly put it on the floor and flicked it over to the officers.

“Alright. We wanted you to attack, you see.”

The officer speaking was obviously trying to gloat, but Robin could still tell he was scared.

“So which one of you is the man they call Robin hood?”

No one answered, his two men looked at eachother and glanced at Robin. He returned the look with a barely perceivable shake of his head and nudged the man. In the event of capture, it would be best if they thought someone else was the priority prisoner. One of the men -Jeremy, he’d joined them about a month ago, answered with a shaky voice. “M-me sir, I-I’m Robin Hood”

“Good good,” the officers adjusted their aim in Jeremy’s direction, still very tense.

Perfect, Robin thought.

“You’ll just stay right there and-” he was cut off by Robin shouting to the wall behind them.

“That's it John! Hit ‘em from be’ind!”

Not having expected the ‘mere accomplice’ to be so bold the officers panicked, one turned his rifle to Robin but before he could fire the other swiveled to the door and in such close quarters, knocked his companion off balance with his gun’s barrel.

Seizing the chance Robin leapt forward, wrestled the gun from the off-balance officer, and in turning to hit the other one found a long steel barrel pressed against his face.

He froze, the barrel was icy cold and the panic in the officer's eyes was dangerous. Robin knew there were a few exaggerated stories of his boldness, but he’d always found the misperceptions to be his advantage, now he wasn’t so sure. He watched the twitchy finger on the trigger and tried to find a way to slowly put down his seized weapon without removing his gaze.

There was a bang as the far door slammed open and a gun went off. The officer fell against the wall and slid to the floor clutching his arm. Robin turned to see Little John holding a smoking revolver.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Robin nodded gratefully to his friend, and turned to the officer, Little John was a good shot, he’d hit the man's gun arm on purpose and the wound wasn’t very bad. They were robbers, not murderers.

A quarter hour later, and they’d finished with the passenger cabins, Little John had tied up both officers and bandaged the wounded one. The other two men had gone forward to make sure that the engineers were properly bribed for slowing the train as it went over the bridge, and for turning a blind eye to the robbery. Robin turned to Little John. “Why do you think these two were here?”

“I s’pose people ‘ave begun to tink we're a real threat” He answered plainly. Robin gave him a critical look.

“You don’t think?” Little John stood up and returned his thoughtful gaze.

“We might as well check the boxcars.” Robin supposed with a playful grin

Their speculations were proved correct a few minutes later when they burst into the third boxcar from the end to startle two more uniformed men.

“ ‘ello there” Robin said, pretending to lift an invisible hat to the men as Little John and himself revealed their guns. Luckily having taken them by surprise both officers were far more easily dealt with and as they sat tied up in the corner, Little John grabbed a nearby crowbar and pried the top off the nearest crate.

Robin lifted out a large silver ingot, it was of good quality, and underneath the top layer of silver various gold ingots were carefully stacked, each one reflecting the dim light of the car into a thousand silver beams. He handed the ingot to Little John and inspected the crate's lid. It was addressed to the Nottingham estate. Robin turned to the officers. “Now why would Lord Theodore be sending for so much gold?” Theodore of Nottingham had been an old friend of Robin's father, and back when he’d still been part of the noble circles, Robin had been good friends with the old man, he was wealthy to be sure, but he wasn’t overly lavish and Robin admired his generosity. The officers looked at each other hesitantly. “Um, well you see, Lord Theodore’s dead, his sons taken possession of the Nottingham estate now, the silvers going to ‘im”

Feeling’s of loyalty were quickly overcome by their own intentions for the wealth as they found the rest of the crates were addressed to Nottingham but from various different nobles whom they’d stolen from before and they called the rest of the men to help them ‘offload’ the crates. In all thirteen large wooden crates tumbled out the car door, then Robin and his men with their bags of loot. It was once they’d gathered everything together and some more of their companions arrived with horses and a cart, that Little John asked about the extra wealth.

“What about it?” Robin answered questioningly. “We’ll stash it in London and distribute it as necessary. You know, the usual.”

“No no. not that, I mean you seem worried about it” Little John said.

“Ah, that. Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Is it Lord Theodore's death? I know he was a good friend wasn’t he?”

“No not really- I suppose, maybe, but he was rather old, and after all I’d probably never see him, if he was living. I just- this business with the silver worries, me, I have a strange foreboding. I mean why was his son in need of such silver? What was he going to use it for?”

“It’s Theodore's son, remember, his father was a great man, how much worse can he be?” Little John tried to reassure Robin, but he changed little, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

—

Lord Rulliver Strutted to and fro along the field's length, the carriage should have arrived by now, he thought with annoyance. Fidgeting with his leather purse with one hand, while with the other he stroked his short brown beard. Despite the best efforts of a score of barbers, he had never found the straggly roughness of his beard could ever be undone; it would always feel prickly, like him.

Suddenly he heard the tumble and bang of a carriage, it came through the opening in the trees along the hastily made dirt path, it wasn’t the simple carriage he had been expecting and he marched over to it with the same mix of curiosity and annoyance as a fish following bait.

The carriage was pulled by two large black horses, and its cabin had gold furnishing in a few places indicating it had once been incredibly ornate but was now wearing from use, beyond the trim the carriage was mostly white matching the footman's suits. Reigning in the horses, the driver hopped off and out of the cabin a heavy man with a white wig and several strained buttons along his vest stepped out.

The bait had been whipped up too fast. Lord Gurthur.

“Ah yes,” Gurthur wheezed, then attempted to clear his throat. “Hello, Rulliver. So this is where it shall be held, I only just got your invitation. I supposed I had better come over and clear this up before you got started, m’ hm, yes, that wood over there what is that for?”

“Rulliver held back his anger, he had grown up as the teasing pet of all the noblemen, now at last with his father dead he had some property yet they were still thinking themselves better. They will see soon enough, he thought to calm himself, and answered. “The wood is for the targets and some platforms for the contestants. I am also going to make a platform where we may watch them and I will present the prize to the winner. But this is supposed to be secret, and why are you here the invitation-”

“Yes, yes about that prize.” Gurthur waddled around looking at the various supplies gathered as though he knew anything about carpentry. “You see, I suppose perhaps you wouldn’t understand the difficulty, your father having made some kind of arrangement with the man, but you see, if we are each to bring a bet to this occasion you must provide some means of protection, you see Robin hood, surely you’ve heard of him? He will of course jump at such an opportunity and so I thought it my duty to come warn you who have so little experience with the fox.”

Rulliver gritted his teeth. He had given far more thought to the robber everyone was always complaining about. “Yes, well actually, I do have a plan for Robin Hood, I have given it much thought and you see- well you know I am sure he is an oddly bold robber?”

“Well yes of course, though how you would gain the information.” Gurthur sighed patronisingly, still not looking Rulliver in the eyes. “I truly wouldn't know.”

“Yes, while if he is indeed as bold as so many of our fellows often mention complainingly.” Rulliver emphasised both our and complainingly rather subtly but Gurthur understood well enough. Rulliver could play the game as well. “Then surely he will withhold his men so as to partake in the contest himself. After all, it is said that he can shoot the hands off a clock from a mile away, would he not enjoy the challenge?”

Gurthur inhaled and nodded a bit. He was impressed but he wouldn't show it. “I see, yes, of course, it’s an interesting plan, there are still a few problems, but I suppose I must be going now.” He pulled out his pocket watch and examined it. “Yes yes, I must be going now.” He climbed back aboard his carriage which was whisked quickly away.

Rulliver smiled looking down the forest road after it, he always enjoyed that final moment, the sudden realisation that he was no young gentleman living easily on his father's money, but in fact a ruthless lord above them all.

Soon however his enjoyment died as he turned once again to pacing. Why wasn’t the cart here yet? He wondered many times that afternoon. It was at least an hour later than expected but finally, the small steel trimmed black carriage tumbled down the road coming into the field where it stopped and Rulliver noticed with dismay that underneath the back sun cover, there sat only the driver -clad in a brown suit- and a noticeable lack of silver filled crates.

“What is this?” He barked at the driver. “Where’s my silver?” The driver got down and made a hasty bow, stuttering.

“So-sorry sir, you see, we em while we- there was,”

“Talk You fool!” Rulliver ordered.

“Bandits! Robbers- the passengers say it was Hood- he took the crates”

Rulliver stared incredulously at the driver for a moment before dismissing him to order some more, and double the guard this time, the silver was paramount to his deception.

He chuckled, then started when one of the workers glanced his way, and regained his composure. Of course, how had he not thought of that? The nobles were always complaining about what a nuisance Robin Hood was and now he was interfering in the very plan for his capture

Part Two

-The Party-

“Ah yes that is exquisite is it not?” the applauding store owner, lauded over Robin as he examined the suit, it was a blue jacket, with a silver vest and white shirt, not his usual earthy attire.

“Isn’t it a bit unusual though? Somewhat overly lavish?” He said. As he had entered the white washed store he had observed the owner convince a fat man with a large purse that this suit was too strange and he ought to buy something else, the man left the small downtown London establishment with a noticeably lighter purse.

“Well yes of course some may say that, but it- you see” the man was struggling, Robin decided he would take a chance.

“How much?” he asked.

“Oh, oh yes, it em, fifty-seven pounds.” the owner said and regaining his vocabulary as they walked over to the counter. “Might I say that it really does match your hair- oh and the vest of course is the best part”

“I rather like the jacket,” Robin said counting his coins.

“Oh yes, yes as I was about to say the jacket truly is of the best quality in every aspect you will find it- it is both comfortable and stylish.”

The store owner continued to shout praises after him as he left the place, passing through the mess of closets, it was not the most reputable shop, and he noticed the dark beams around the display window were wearing and cracking. However, he had decided it would do anyway.

As arranged Robin met the others at the train station, -Bishopsgate was as busy as ever and Robin felt as though he was amongst a pack of ants rather than a crowd of humans. Because of the hustle, they weren’t able to talk until they had found a lounge car and managed to pursuad the few occupants to leave. inside the noise was muffled and they were able to better plan. Each wore their suits, and Robin noticed with slight dismay that all the suits were rather cheap, he had given each of them a fair enough share of the loot to buy something nice, but it seemed they were still cheapskates at heart, he decided not to mention it though. His earlier gloomy mood had turned to sternness once they got the loot to their London hideout and he felt that he owed them somewhat.

Little John hushed the few conversations around the car and Robin laid out his plan.

“Alright, so, Lord Rulliver, is having a party at his the Nottingham estate reportedly in celebration of his recent inheritance, and among the festivities he will have a hunting contest luckily for us, any who wish to participate may come, not just those he has invited, though we don’t want ot stick out to much hence the suits. Now, each of the gentlemen who participate in the contest must bring a bet, once one bet is given each man afterward cannot give any less so we must bring a large portion of our stores just in case. Anyway, once I have entered the contest the hunters will leave and you may all mix with the crowd and enjoy yourselves, I shall win the contest easily enough and after we have the prize money safely in our carriage we may simply ride off and away and no one will ever know who we were. So what do you say?”

Most of the men seemed happy enough, and there were nods of approval and few hurrahs, it wasn’t the excitement they were used to but the boldness of posing as nobles would likely make up for a lack of action -they all enjoyed surprising people. However, contrary to Robin's expectations, Little John looked worried.

“John? What do you think?” Robin inquired.

The burly man shifted in his seat and adjusted his dark jacket. “I don’t know, you don’t think it could be a trap do you?”

“A trap? Of course not! Why would Lord Rulliver set one? His father was always in our good graces, and we’ve never directly stolen from him.”

“Well I mean it all seems a bit odd, after all, perhaps the fools have finally found your weakness, they know you’re a bold one so they’ve given you the perfect chance to show it. Maybe they’re expecting us, that's all I’m saying”

“Well it seems my bad mood from earlier has rubbed off on you, you said yourself, not to worry, we’ll be careful enough and no one will notice.”

“Ah yes but you know as well as I do that I was only reassuring you. In fact, since then I haven’t got it off me’ mind.”

“Really?” Robin looked around the room. A few of the other men were looking doubtful now, and he could feel how the mood changed as the car jolted and the train began to puff along. "well you will all be there, even if they recognise me, what could a group of old men do to us?”

Little John nodded reluctantly. “I suppose, still I’d rather you didn’t go alone into the forest.”

Robin sighed. “Alright, then we’ll compromise, John. you may accompany me on the hunt, and perhaps” he began to have the beginning of an idea, “while everyone’s focused on the merry making, a few of the men could sneak in and pilfer a few things from the Nottingham house? Agreed?” He looked around, his plan seemed to have worked, he had eased Little John somewhat and given the men something exciting to do that would at least stop them from worrying. Though Little John probably saw through his persuasion attempts, he had to realise that the men were now exited at the prospect of another heist, and there was no going back. They spent the rest of the ride to York organising their plan and assigning jobs.

Bright and fresh the day of the party dawned, and Robin and his men set out for Nottingham, they came in a small carriage, along the Roman roads that set out from York, rolling up the long drive past the wide lawns and gardens on either side, they got a good look at the grand house and it’s rich exterior. Robin remembered it well. A dark roof covered the grey building as it stood on the rich sandstone foundation, there had once been rich green shutters and curtains but now, they had been repainted, blue, the new colour stood out against light walls. Robin smiled, in the face of a new challenge, his confidence had returned.

They found the party on the right side of the house where tables had been set up under a few partial awnings over a porch. They milled amongst the guests for an hour, Robin keeping his head low when he could, after recognizing several people he had robbed directly. And once half the food had disappeared and the guests were getting restless and bored with simple talk, the lord of Nottingham himself -Rulliver Tuckerson, appeared on a balcony overtop of his guests. He was an imposing figure as he called for their attention from above wearing his thick purple suit, and decorative sword slung up with a red and gold sash.

“Hello dear guests, I do hope you have enjoyed the party? All praise for the food and wine I should hope?” several shouts and encouragements answered and once silence had been regained their host continued. “First I would like to thank, and welcome you all to my celebration, My father certainly held onto this shack long enough for sure!” more cheering “Yes good now, surely many of you have come for the main event! The hunt of course, I have held you in suspense for too long, and I assure you it will begin shortly, and I have already collected your bets as you well now.” A butler had gone around the crowd collecting their bets earlier, while everyone was still eager and excited, he’d asked for a name as well and Robin had identified as one Lord Hollin Robertson -a rather stylish alias he thought. “And I have a special surprise that will be revealed after we have finished with our hunt. So for the rest of you do not fear, there will be more entertainment later on. Now, if the hunters would be so kind as to retrieve your guns, and take a horse they are being brought out as I speak.” With this he gestured to where a few dozen horses were being led out by servants along with the guns each contestant had brought. After they had mounted, Rulliver came out with his horse and they set out into the forest.

Sheltered from the breezes inside the forest, the hunters found a comforting heat as though summer was still there, ordinarily hunting was not allowed to others, as it was the private property of the Tuckers and part of their Nottingham estate so many animals were lurking in the undergrowth. Leaves crunched under their horse's hoofs signaling the beginning of fall, and every few moments a spooked animal jumped from the bushes and made a desperate sprint into the deeper edges of the forest, where the paths stopped and the ground disappeared beneath the foliage, -either that or they were shot down by one of the party members.

“Well? How are you feeling?” Robin asked his companion, perhaps an hour into the hunt they had begun to slow down to fall behind and enjoy the forest having easily proved themselves good enough with a rifle. “Enjoying the sport of gentlemen?”

“Keep your voice down” Little John reprimanded. “Your right things are going well, but I’m worried about that ‘surprises’ Rulliver keeps mentioning, how ‘bout you? Not coming to terms with your mood again eh?”

“No no, certainly not, actually, I’m feeling as bold as ever- although, I have been keeping your worries in mind, don’t fret, I’m pretty sure that surprise is just another part of the hunt, some kind of target contest, I heard mr. Gurthur talking about it.”

“Well you sure ‘ave been pulling you shots, so thank you, I at least know you could do far better-”

“Thank you”

“-but, that’s not to say you shouldn’t keep being cautious, I don;t like how Rullivers been sticking back here with us, he keeps eying everyone and he’s been going around asking questions, it worries me.”

“Well, I’ll admit that’s a little strange, but he has yet to say anything, and together with the forest you and I could easily disappear at will.”

This seemed to calm his friend’s worry for a little longer and the hunt continued for a little longer before the path led them over a rise from which they saw the trees ahead parting to reveal the field and Rullivers set up.

The afternoon sun set the field in a dying light as it was partly overshadowed by the setting sun over the treetops behind them. In the centre of the field a large platform as tall as an ordinary man had been erected with stairs on one side that lead to the large throne atop. The throne faced the longest stretch of the field where seven smaller platforms marked the beginning of a range at the far end of which were seven targets in the shadow of the nearby trees.

Perpendicular on either side of the range were a couple of platforms on which sat benches for the other guests who arrived shortly after the hunters rode in.

As Robin dismounted near the large platform which Rulliver quickly climbed atop, he noticed the smell of newly sawed wood in the air. The men milled about for a moment before Rulliver from his throne on the makeshift stage addressed them.

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen yes, colleagues and newcomers alike. Surely many of you are wondering what we are doing here. Well I promised you a surprise did I not? This is it, of course, the final part of our contest where I shall truly judge the finest amongst you” He paused looking over the crowd with a searching gaze before continuing. Sweeping his hands out before him he directed their gaze toward the range. “Behold Gentlemen! The final part of my contest. While you all shot your share of beasts I have been watching and discerning from among you the finest hunters, and as soon as the other guests arrive those of you who have done the greatest shall take your place on one of the seven platforms and take your best shot. and whoever wins will receive the culmination of the bets and of course best of all the, Silver Pistol! My own contribution to the prize.” At this, he flourished forth from within his cloak a large flintlock pistol, made of pure silver embellished with various intricate carvings. As he set the beautiful prize down beside his throne on a small pillow, Robin followed his every move.

—

The party somewhat quieted after the hunting party left, a hired band had begun playing, and most of the guests found places to sit down and talk of meaningless things. Robin's men were getting restless, and an hour after the hunters left, they gathered on the south side of the house -opposite that of the partygoers.

Muffling the crash by using a rifle butt covered in several cloths to break the window, they remained unnoticed and came into the ballroom. It was a large and spacious area. To their right, the dancing floor extended to the back of the house, above, a chandelier lit the room, and to their left, a small stage, for a band, and a couple of doors out. One was marked ‘kitchen’

and it was through this that three of them went while the others began filling their bags with the jewels studding some furniture, and whatever silver was set out on the few side tables -a few even contemplated getting the chandelier down.

The kitchens were a buzz of activity for the party required constant attention, however, the men entering with their large firearms, and stern expressions caused a sudden hesitation among the servants who eyed them cautiously unsure of the correct procedures. A large man with a demeanor of authority came up. He was nearly the size of Little John and his apron was grease stained. His face held a stern authority and his eyebrows raised in question.

Returning the chief chef's gaze one of them pulled out a large bag and placed it on a nearby table, out of the poorly tied bag, a few gold coins spilled onto the table. Nodding at the men, who swiftly went to join the others, the chef took the bag and turning on the others began in a commanding tone.

“Come on then back to work, and doubly so now, it looks like we’re all getting paid -with money! Hey you! Kid! Go tell the butler and the maids upstairs, we ‘ave some house guests, and their not to be disturbed understand?”

The young servant nodded and bolted away.

—

The guests arrived at the range, and it was with great excitement that the hunters listened as Rulliver stood to call for his choice contestants. During the hunt, Robin had initially held back, even missing intentionally to remain inconspicuous, however as the list of names was read aloud, he felt regret at his earlier caution, the silver pistol having stolen his attention, he wished for it above all the other bets.

“Earl, Wilfred Carter.” Rulliver said. A cheer went up for a tall gentleman with straight grey hair and a simple moustache as he took his place at the range. “Sir Donnelly Lewis.” Another shout, this time a dark haired man with a few medals upon his jacket, took his place. “Lord Richard Miller” A simple blonde haired man, arose amongst lighthearted encouragement. “Lord Joel Marshal'' Another man with medals took his place with few to no cheers from his comrades. “The Honourable Duke Laurance, Cooper.'' A white haired man with a stern expression to match his dark apparel stepped up to the range as though his reflective boots had only been waiting for the chance they knew would come. “Master Nathaniel Rogers.” A young man was ushered to the second to last place by a few encouraging friends. Robin eyed the final platform with envy. Rulliver paused, gazing out at the crown, then saying.

“And last, perhaps least” he provoked a few laughs as he eyed the crowd. “Lord, Hollin.” his

gaze rested on Robin. “Robertson.”

Robin only glimpsed Little John shaking his head at him as he slipped away through the crowd to his place. His friend could worry enough for both of them and now. Robin was set on achieving that pistol.

Each man in turn loaded their guns and as the crowd assembled on the nearby bleachers the call was given to the Earl to fire at will. He leveled his gun, and after sighting down the barrel for so long some wondered whether he would fire at all, a resounding bang held the crowd stunned, before applause erupted as they noticed the central hole in the far off target.

The rest continued in their turn with Duke Cooper astounding them all by not only hitting the target but knocking it back and over with the power of his shot. It was at that point that Robin decided he would have to do something spectacular if he was to make his victory guaranteed.

All eyes turned to the strange nobleman no one had recognised as his name was called. Robin lifted his gun and sighted, the targets were arranged very near the edge of the field where the dark forest began to intrude. Beyond the outlying bushes and foliage, the inner depths of the forest were shrouded in darkness. Robin lowered his gun and called to Lord Rulliver.

“If you please sir, have them move the target several paces back.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Rullivers face, and Robin felt a hint of guilt at his recklessness.

“But Lord Robertson,” Rulliver answered. “That would place it amongst the trees, can you see it well in the darkness?”

“I have been told my sight is good and true,” Robin replied.

Rulliver acquiesced and two servants were sent to place the target further back. Despite their speed, it took them a minute to reach the target and another two, to reposition it. During this time Robin glanced around for Little John, he was watching the target move back amongst the trees with dissatisfaction and worry written upon his face, he glanced once at Robin, however, didn't intervene, at this point, it was too late.

Once again Robin lifted the gun and sighted, a few branches hung out and blocked parts of the barely discernible target, though not the centre. He called out again before the servants had entirely returned.

“Another seven paces if you please.”

Rulliver looked somewhat skeptical at this point however he ordered the servants to do so anyway.

On his third sight down the rifle barrel, Robin couldn’t make out the target, deep in the forest. He took a breath and relaxed his fingers for a moment, then let his ring finger slide down the side of the gun in a fluid motion as he imagined the target enveloped in the far off darkness. He pulled the trigger. twice.

Despite the climactic build up, and the unexpected double shots, the crowd remained silent, the bangs hadn’t even been as unusually loud as irrationally expected, and none could see the target anyway, so as far as anyone knew, Robin had missed horribly.

The tension continued, as Rulliver dispatched the servants again to assess the target. With a great eruption, the crowd cheered and shouted as the servants brought the targets within eyesight, one hole was visible cutting clean through the target's centre.

When the servants came back -now thoroughly exhausted- they revealed to the astonishment of the crowd and pleasure of Rulliver, two bullets fused with the first deformed by the second which had hit directly from behind.

Several minutes of applause and excitement from the crowd persisted before Rulliver finally managed to calm them. He announced with a pleasing demeanor that Lord Robertson was undoubtedly the winner and called Robin up to the stage.

Mindful of Little John's worries, while elated at having pulled off his act, Robin ascended the platform slowly, keeping an eye out for any sudden activity, no one assailed him, however, and he greeted Rulliver with a blissful smile.

Rulliver made a grand speech about the whole affair of the hunt and the party which fell on deaf ears in Robin's case, for he was being handed several bags of gold by the servants, and paid the speech no attention. Neither did he notice several guards emerge from the crowd.

Rulliver gingerly picked up the silver pistol. Up close Robin could see the beautiful engravings showed some kind of story, it must have been a great smith who had devised such a beautiful, yet functional thing. His fingers twitched to let go of the heavy bags and grasp the pistol, but he retained the figure of a respected noble, and instead waited for Rulliver to pass the pistol on.

It seemed Rulliver couldn’t resist a final word before he gave over the prize.

“I commend you, truly there has never been as good a shot as you yourself Robin Hood.”

He handed over the silver pistol, and as they both turned to face the crowd, Rulliver waving, Robin Hood holding the pistol aloft in victory, Rullivers words hit Robin. Robin Hood.

Part Three

-The Chase-

Propelled by a sudden panicked madness, Robin leaped from the platform and somehow made it through a dozen guards before running into another. Like a hunted fox, Robin turned sharply and pummeled his way through the crowd as more and more guards joined the chase along with a few of the others.

As he reached the forest his way was blocked by two horses that galloped up to the road, he nearly turned and ran back to the crowd but his wits were returning and upon seeing Little John he leaped atop the other horse and they sped off, and away.

Rulliver's men had better horses and upon seizing them they made off in hot pursuit. Soon the two robbers heard galloping behind them and when Robin glanced back he saw not more than ten yards back several soldiers round the bend. One of the men, seeing Robin looking back, tried to fire, uselessly spending a full round in the attempt.

Robin pulled out the silver pistol, -he’d lost his other gun in the fray following his near capture- and examined the pistol, it already had a round loaded and ready, and he knew he had at least three rounds in his pouch. Holding up the pistol he called Little John.

“four! You?”

His friend, holding the reins with one hand, unslung his rifle. “Five, used one gettin’ the horses.”

Robin nodded, nine chances. He turned, and reined in his horse as they rounded a bend, going too fast would make it more difficult. The soldiers came round nearly as soon as he’d turned, and firing once at such close range, the lead soldier slid from his horse. Robin turned and sped off, several shots following him.

Little John was a good enough shot, however firing from horseback was difficult, and Robin found loading the pistol was twice as difficult as firing on horseback so that between both of them only four horsemen were downed before they came to the edge of the forest, and could see the crisp, clean, sides of Nottingham House, partly obscured by the remains of the party.

Coming around the side, Robin had just reloaded and was turning to make another shot when a gunshot sounded and a small metal ball flew across his shoulder. They stopped abruptly. There was a line of eight more soldiers ahead of them, the four that made up the chase had stopped a short distance from them, the Nottingham house on their left, and the dense forest on their right.

Rulliver rode up from behind them

“Hello Robin Hood '' he said sardonically. “Did you enjoy the party?”

The soldiers loaded their rifles. Robin had no words, his mind was racing, he looked to Little John, was he thinking the same thing?

“Take aim!” Rulliver called. The soldiers did so.

Robin looked around, they were trapped, or, were they?

“Fire!''

Several ear-ringing bangs sounded. Robin Hood slid off his horse to the ground beside his friend and companion.

—

Throwing up his arms in reaction Rulliver felt the crossfire whiz past him, how had not seen this coming? He was furious, looking around him he saw five of his men had been shot, by their companions on both sides, fortunately, they had been aiming at Hood and none of the wounds from the crossfire seemed fatal- Hood! Where had the robbers gone?

Rulliver called to whatever men were able to begin searching -and fast. Dismounting, he began looking wildly around, they couldn’t be very far. The two horses were riderless, they must have jumped off right as the men fired. He cursed his own lack of attention, though outwardly he blamed his soldiers for their stupidity.

“Lord Rulliver! The house!” One of the men called to him, he rushed over to the front of the house, a dozen or more men, all clad in ratty suits issued from the front door, each carried a large bag and they headed for the carriage Hood had arrived in, they snapped the reins and making their escape in mad haste. More of Robin's men! A few of the soldiers began to make chase, but then there was a great crash followed by the tinkle of glass and Rulliver turned to see Hood and his companion rushing from some bushes through the broken window.

“Hoods in the house you fools!” shouted, “after them, all of you!”

—

Robin and Little John split up once inside. Racing down the dark lit halls, and across several rooms filled with untouched furniture before he slid onto a linoleum floor, and hearing a door slam in the other room. Sidled up against a large wooden cabinet, he was in the dining room, and across from his hiding place, a long dark table was covered in a lace edged tablecloth. The few glasses set out on the table shuddered as a soldier burst through the door. Rulliver's shouting could be heard now, he must be in the main hall, Robin thought.

The soldier came forward slowly, and, as he turned Robin rushed out, hitting him once with the butt of his pistol. The soldier recoiled for once then elbowed him, Robin gasped.

“O’er here!” the man shouted as Robin regained his breath, no point in being stealthy now that the soldier had shouted, his pistol was still loaded and he shot the man in the leg -just enough to inconvenience him. And ran off. Several pairs of footsteps thudded after him. He felt as though the soldiers were multiplying. Rulliver had been taking no chances when he laid his trap.

–

There was more than one flight of stairs in such a large house, and having spent so many years exploring the secrets of his father's mansion Rulliver quickly deduced which stairs the soldiers must be thudding up. He raced down a dimly lit hall and turned up the narrow servant's stairway at the end.

He burst through precisely when and where he meant to. A guest room on the second floor. Two large curtained windows opposite him looked out toward the forest, and to his left on the other side of a four poster bed. The door, behind which a rumbling was heard as the soldiers raced across the creaking wood.

Hood burst into the room and leaping over the bed, barreled into Rulliver. They struggled for a moment before the soldiers got there and then Robin got up and backing a little away held the gun pointed at Rulliver.

“Tell you men to stand off” he shouted, his tone commanding and his expression calculating, looking for a means of escape. But Rulliver could sense his fear anyway. Look at the great Robin Hood now. He thought, dusting himself off. He turned to his men, they had paused at the doorway looking from their master, to their quarry.

Rulliver looked at Robin as well, he was holding the silver pistol, it was of flintlock design, Rulliver had heard the bang that followed the soldier's shout. Robin couldn’t have loaded it in such a short time while he was running, the robber was a bold one, after all, surely he was bluffing.

“Don’t fall for it, his gun isn’t loaded.” Rulliver said, looking at Hood. Robin met his gaze, and Rulliver glimpsed the fear once more. There was a moment of hesitation that was broken as soon as the first soldier stepped forward.

Throwing a nearby lamp at the soldiers, Hood rushed through the nearest door on the right wall and down a hall. Rulliver smiled, it led to the balcony in the ballroom. With Rulliver in the lead, the soldiers filed through the door. He unsheathed his sword before opening the door.

The balcony was carpeted in red, and two matching chairs with gold trim occupied the middle, beyond the white fence a large crystal chandelier could be seen, under which the large rectangular ballroom was laid out. But the balcony was empty.

Rushing to the edge Rulliver observed a blue coat disappear behind the door to the kitchens. In a rage, he hurled the chairs off the Balcony and pushed through his soldiers in the hallway.

“Guard the doors, don’t let him escape this house, I'll deal with the robber myself!”

—

Frantically Robin loaded the gun, he’d only bought time and now his arm hurt. There was a thud somewhere in the house, followed by a few muffled voices, and door slamming. Swerving through the crowd of servants in the greasy kitchen something sizzled near him, and steam covered the ceiling. The servants seemed to ignore him, going about their duties with only a few worried looks in his direction. He rounded the next corner, coming into the entrance hall.

Large and spacious, it was lit by two chandeliers, and he found to his right, a flight of steps. Across the room, two doors, with a painting in between. To his left, the grand wooden doors to freedom -blocked by two guards who rushed toward him as he came out. Firing once, he hit the lead man before making a break up the steps, the soldier followed but he was able to lose him around a corner by side stepping into a closet. The soldier thudded past. Robin loaded his gun.

Glancing back around the corner he saw two more men ascending the stairs. Staying in the closet he waited, the soldiers came around soon enough, and the last one tripped into Robin's fist and was unconscious before his companion turned around to see the silver pistol flash in his direction.

Only one guard left, Robin thought. He reached into his pouch and felt the empty interior with dismay. Pocketing the now useless gun he snuck down the hall as lightly as he could. Coming to the top of the stairs, he was elated to find the door unguarded. However the sigh of relief he uttered, starting down the stairs caught in his throat as a figure moved from the shadows.

Rulliver.

His face was a mass of calculated fury, far beyond his confident composure of the earlier hour. His sword unsheathed, was held with a death grip and his purple coat had a rip.

Robin took a step back up the stairs, inhaling, he regretted every decision he’d made, every one had been specifically devised to bring him to this moment. He was faced with a man full of personal hatred toward Robin -and they’d first met only a few hours ago. He should have listened to Little John.

Like a frightened rabbit, Robin dashed back up the stairs, and down a hall before coming back to the dining room. The dining room! He thought the window was still smashed! He could get out! He turned toward the window and nearly walked into Rullivers sword point. The man knew his house better than any ordinary man should, Robin decided. He turned to run, the sword singing back and forth right behind him. Upon passing the cabinet he had hidden behind previously Robin noticed a decorative old cutlass, adorned with a red jewel hilt and green leather strap.

Whipping around and using the cabinet door to block Rullivers slash, Robin grabbed the cutlass and -ducking again- thrust upward, Rulliver was forced back. However Robin was not the one with superior skill in such a fight and after his initial thrust, he was kept busy warding off Rullivers attacks.

Several times Rulliver succeeded in hitting Robin, but they were only minor cuts and Robin at least knew a thing or two about warding off a direct stab. They tallied back and forth across the dining room, Rulliver striking twice as fast, a thrust, a slash, an easy parry, and before Robin had time to recover the point came at him again, often to be avoided only by a back step.

After only a few minutes, Robin began to feel his exhaustion. He had been riding, running, and defending for nearly an hour. Rulliver thrust once again and Robin parried, and then in a final attempt, tried slashing across. However his timing was off, and Rulliver took advantage of his open guard and delivered a direct stab to his leg.

He collapsed on the floor, and looking up found Rulliver, red faced, standing over him, he hesitated for a moment -obviously, the strain was also getting to him. Robin tried to back away but the pain in his leg flared up, like a million tiny daggers falling at once. His feeble attempt reminded Rulliver of how often Robin had gotten away, and the madman, grasping his sword in both hands, heaving with anger and exhaustion, turned the point downward. And swiftly fell dumbly to the floor.

Little John appeared behind the collapsed Rulliver, holding a large metal plate, evidently from the kitchens.

“Well then, still think it ain’t a trap?” he leaned down to help Robin to his feet.

“No dear friend” Robin staggered a little, but his friend supported him, as they left the building. “Not in the least.”

Little John brought Robin out of the house slowly, for he was still incredibly exhausted, not to mention his leg wound. Evidently, John had dealt with the final soldier, and the others -after realising their leaders were missing in the ensuing escape- had turned tail, returning to the house they found Robin and Little John staggering out of the broken window.

Taking the long winding country roads, rather than the train back to London, they soon came to a small stream. Its gentle flow trickled away underneath them as they passed over the arch of a centuries old bridge, it was made of old stones packed in between with some kind of plaster that now felt as hard as the rocks themselves. Robin asked to stop. His leg had been bandaged by now, and he was feeling just well enough to wobble out on his own, he’d been quiet as they rode on, his men had bandaged his leg thinking he was sleeping -but he wasn’t.

Robin had thought long and hard as the carriage jumped and jolted over uneven roads. He had thought of the expensive suit he had gotten for his final charade as a nobleman. He had thought of the stash of gold in their London hideout that he yet to be distributed among the poor, he wondered how long it had been since he’d allocated that job to his men so that he might have more time to plan the next heist, it had been a long time since he’d seen an old beggars face light up at the prospect of a few pieces of meat. And as he leaned out over the bridge, Robin thought of the many sad peasants they’d passed on the way to the party.

Pulling the silver pistol out of his jacket, he studied it once again. The long barrel, the intricate stock, and the weighty feel. Silver, it was far less dense than a good steel barrel, and it could scratch and dent easily enough, those beautiful carvings wouldn’t last more than a month of regular use.

And it was of a flintlock design -one bullet at a time, nowadays revolvers were used far more, they were faster, easier, -and in some cases simpler. Flintlocks were for duels, the sport of gentlemen with little else to do than kill each other.

Robin leaning on the edge of the bridge, and surrounded by the forest -he’d always liked Sherwood, perhaps he would spend more time there- cast the pistol to the stream. It gave a satisfying plop as it hit the water.

Robin Hood did not want to be remembered as a nobleman, nor a thief, nor a murderer, nor a Robber. He did not want to be remembered as anything at all.

And so he was remembered as a hero.

The End

Or only the beginning