Disclaimer; All versions of the Robin Hood characters belong to Richard Carpenter. I've just borrowed them to play with. The others I claim as my own :) This is my attempt to answer some of the unfinished storylines of the 1980's Robin of Sherwood series. If you haven't seen it (where have you been?) I recommend it to you. I hope you enjoy my version of what might have happened. Feel free to pull me up on any canon or historical bloopers. If anything can be proven and backed up with evidence I will amend the story. Please be nice though :)

A/N: Story contains some own characters, for which I make no apologies, and is turning out to be very long!

sidenote; To differentiate between the two Robin's I have used Loxley for the Michael Praed character and Robert or Huntingdon for the Jason Connery character, except where Huntingdon is being spoken to directly. He is called Robin by the outlaws.

Thanks to Fayzalmoonbeam for her patient beta-reading and encouragement. Also to the members of the various RoS groups around the 'net who answered some rather odd questions regarding Castle de Belleme, arrow fletchings and other RoS related stuff. Cheers all!

In memory of Robert Addie and John Abinieri; two members of the wonderful cast who bought this show to life.


Guy of Gisburne squeezed himself against the mud wall of the pit as a shower of vegetable peelings and human excrement splattered onto the floor beside him. He retched at the stink of the fetid mess and heard laughter above his head. He glowered up at the peasants gathered there, then slammed backward as a second load of noxious liquid was tipped into the hole.

"Too good for the pigs...thought we'd save it for you my Lord."

The mob above him howled with laughter and began to trail away about their business. It was early and the hustle of a market place setting out its wares reached the knight. Gisburne cursed de Rainault. Where was the Sheriff? King John had called him to the great hall of Newark Castle two nights before, yet no-one had come to take Gisburne out of the town's crude version of an oubliette. He felt a thrill of fear touch him. De Rainault could easily afford both fines set by the King, but what if he decided not to pay Gisburne's?

I saved his life, Gisburne thought to himself, but he knew that would count for little in his favour. He remembered the glint of the upraised blade in the torches of Grimstone's great hall as Grendal's master pulled a dagger from the mouth of the beast he worshipped.

Gulnar grants you the privilige.

De Rainault's eyes had never left his. There was no fear there and Gisburne found that he could not do it; could not butcher a nobleman with a madman's knife. Three times that day he held de Rainault's life balanced on a blade. Three times he had chosen not to draw blood. Now, for the first time, he wondered if he'd made the right choice.