Paul Kane - Broken Arrow

Bill, though he had things to attend to first with his market network, had agreed to come back and help with the general day-to-day running of the Rangers. He claimed Robert needed someone to "keep a bloody eye on him". This would allow The Hooded Man to go on more patrols, to be out there where he should be. "I still think ye should be armin' them lads properly," he'd said, Bill being Bill. But for now he seemed to have dropped the subject. For one thing he was busy fixing up one of the Black Shark attack helicopters they'd retrieved near Doncaster. "Look at that beauty," he'd practically drooled. "It'll be protection for the castle while you get your other defences up and running again…" Robert was too tired and too preoccupied to argue with him this time.

Bill would be helped by Tate, who'd moved back permanently. Robert felt the most sorry for him. They'd both gone out to New Hope, after hearing that Gwen and Clive Jr were alive and safe, that they'd somehow escaped on their own. But Robert and Tate had been prevented from entering the village by the armed guards at the entrance. After Tate told them they weren't moving until they saw Gwen, the woman had reluctantly appeared. At first she wouldn't even look at the Reverend, even after he apologised. Then, when she did, she told him:

"I never want to see you again. Don't come here any more."

Robert saw how much the words upset Tate — he'd only been doing what he thought best. The Reverend never spoke all the way home.

But even he hadn't moped as much as Jack. Robert's second had taken both Adele's betrayal and his own — he called it that no matter what Robert said — to heart. Or maybe it had been the torture; sometimes he woke the whole castle up at night with his bad dreams. Perhaps Robert's forthcoming wedding would take his mind off things. Who knows, maybe Jack would even meet someone from the neighbouring villages at that, because — like last year's summer fete — they'd invited all the people under The Hooded Man's protection.

Robert recalled now those agonising days waiting by Mary's bedside, with Sophie telling him he should still be recuperating himself.

"I need to be here," he insisted, and she'd left it at that.

Robert held Mary's hand and was there when her eyelids finally fluttered open, a smile breaking on her bruised, but lovely face. "Hey…" she'd croaked.

"Hey yourself."

"Did… did we make it? Back, I mean. What happened… with…"

"Sshh, shh." He stroked her hair, then kissed her forehead. "Everything's okay. We're at the castle. The Tsar's dead. Mark, Sophie, Jack, the Reverend, Bill, they're all…" He paused, but said it anyway. "They're all fine."

Mary nodded, then winced. "I feel dreadful."

"Well, you look beautiful."

"Liar," she said, laughing, then wincing again. "How about Tanek… and Adele?"

Robert shrugged. "Tanek I don't know. Adele you shot."

"Good old Dad, all those hours hitting tin cans were definitely not wasted. Yay me. Did you find the other Peacekeeper, by the way? In the caves?"

Robert nodded. "I know how much they mean to you, even though I don't technically approve. But yes, you have a pair again, now." He was skirting round what he really wanted to say, so he just got on with it. "Look, this probably isn't the right time or place, but, well, I've been thinking."

"That's dangerous," she said.

She must be feeling better. " I almost lost you, and I'm not sure if I could go through something like that…" Robert let the end of that sentence float away. "Mary, I guess what I'm trying to say is-"

"The answer's yes, you know. It always was." She smiled back at him. "You looked like you needed helping out."

And that had been that. They'd set a date over the summer, a special one that marked the anniversary of becoming a proper couple, and asked Tate if he'd perform the ceremony. His answer had been: "Nothing would give me greater pleasure." Now, if this quiet period would just hold out till then.

They'd had no more reports of invasions, nothing about the Morningstars — it was as if they'd vanished, just as they did from the castle — no trouble yet from those prisoners that had got away, and that was how Robert hoped it would remain for the time being.

As Mary joined him on that sunny, but slightly chilly morning — still using a stick to get about — he thought about what he'd said, about almost losing her. Not even the castle had been safe; they both realised that now.

"When you're feeling up to it," he told her, slipping an arm around her waist, "how about we go out on a few patrols together. I know Dale would welcome the back-up. So would I."

"You old romantic," she said to him, slapping his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, feigning pain at the wound he'd received at the hands of Bohuslav. "Oh, I'm sorry, love."

"Maybe you should kiss it better."

Mary grinned. "I think that can be arranged. I wonder if the stables are free…" She took him by the hand and led him down the path.

As she did so, Robert realised that he didn't feel lost anymore. He been found, in more ways than one. He was both Robert Stokes — the man — and Robin Hood, the legend.

There were worse things in life he could be, and this woman had rescued him from that.

In a broken world , he said to himself, what more could anyone ask for?

The country had welcomed him back into her arms like a concerned mother.

One that also admonished him for ever wanting to leave. He comforted himself with the knowledge that none of this had been his idea. It had all been The Tsar's, the old Tsar's. Now that man was dead, along with Xue and Ying. Just as he had almost been.

As he stepped out into the cold, flanked by soldiers to the left and right, on his way to the combat arena from the Marriott, Bohuslav's wrist throbbed again, at the stump which he'd cauterised himself, almost passing out from the pain.

He felt the pull of the stitches at his stomach, the wound which would have seen his intestines spill out on the floor had it been a couple of millimetres deeper. As it was, he'd had to sew up the flesh with his one good hand — his driver useless at anything medical it seemed — dosing himself with antibiotics so there was no infection.

By the time he was fit enough to travel, news had reached them of the failure of their troops to retain the castle. Bohuslav had been numbed by the realisation that their entire operation had been a spectacular catastrophe.

There had been only one thing to do at that point. Waiting for them just off the coast were the fleet of empty hovercrafts, including The Tsar's, which he'd followed them in. He'd told his driver to radio that he would be returning, and that he would now be taking charge of the fleet — and indeed of The Tsar's entire army. They would return home to Russia to bide their time and replenish their forces.

It had been enough of a pasting to make him think twice about trying it again for a good while. Or at least without any major allies. One day, however, one day…

Because, as much as he loved his motherland, Bohuslav was also thirsty for vengeance. Not just on those who had done this to him, but also on the man who had lured The Tsar and his men across to that fated isle in the first place.

Tanek.

Even the name caused him to clench his fist as he climbed into the limo. He couldn't clench the other, as that position was now occupied by a handheld (Bohuslav would laugh at the inappropriateness of that, if it didn't remind him of the pain he'd endured) sickle, attached to the stump that was now aching so much.

Yes, one day he would meet both Hood and Tanek again. And when he did…

Bohuslav wondered where that cowardly giant had run off to after leaving his leader in the lurch. Reports were sketchy, but he'd apparently abandoned him at Sherwood after a confrontation with their enemies.