Kendra handed him a hard square of paper and on its surface was a perfect likeness of him. He had dropped it as though his skin had been seared and rose with a roar from the tree stump where he sat.

She had calmed him and then shown him the other box, telling him it made similar "photographs," but of a higher quality. She pointed it at him too, after moving a round circle on the front of it back and forth. The box made an odd "click" and he gazed with interest at the bottom of the box to watch his image appear again. Nothing appeared, however, and she told him those kind of pictures had to be "developed" with something called chemicals. He found himself growing more fascinated with each word she spoke and, with her instruction, peered through the camera as she told him about "settings" and "composition" and something called a "flash." Navarre caught himself, realizing he was swallowing her tale without so much as a question.

"Cease!" He stood, slicing the air with the edge of his hand. "I cannot listen further. My God, have I fallen in love with a madwoman? Kendra, this box that paints my picture-" he stood staring down at her, the question he would not ask in his eyes.

"I swear, Navarre, I am not a witch, and I am not mad," Kendra stamped one leather-clad foot in frustration. She gathered the two squares from the ground and shook them in his face. "I'm telling you the truth. How else would you explain it?" She held up both hands to stop him from speaking. "I know, I know-witchcraft." She sighed, pushing back her tangled auburn hair.

Navarre groaned silently to himself, following the gesture of her hand with his gaze, remembering the perfume of her red-gold tresses, and the way he had wound the cascading length around his hand while they made love, drawing her lips to his. Crossing to her side he grasped her by both arms, shaking her slightly.

"Do you not think I wish to believe you?" he demanded. "How can I? Your tale is beyond sensibility."

"What about your druid lady's prophecy?" she asked, jerking away from him, blue eyes flashing. "Was that sensible? Was it intelligent for you to wait at Avebury for Richard's salvation to appear simply because some old woman said it would happen?"

Navarre stiffened. "At first, I did not believe it was prophecy. I believed it was a clever way for the woman to relay a message to Locksley from Richard. But what I witnessed in Abury had to be a type of magic. It would be foolish to deny it."

"In my world there is a kind of magic, called science. Men study how the universe was created, how it works, what it does. But that kind of magic is simply knowledge, Navarre, the kind of knowledge I'm trying to share with you." She held out both hands to him imploringly.

Navarre pressed his lips together, then released his breath explosively. "Knowledge and magic are not the same. One is of God, the other of the devil."

Kendra turned away, her shoulders slumping with dejection. "What can I say," she murmured, "what can I do to prove that I'm telling the truth? Would you believe me if I told you what happens to Richard? To John? To the whole Plantagenat family?" She turned to face him, a few wisps of hair dancing across the pallor of her face.

"If I told you that Richard will die a few years from now, killed by an archer's last arrow, would that convince you? If I told you John will eventually rule, would that stop you from murdering Richard?" She smoothed the linen of her tunic-like dress with one hand, her eyes lowered. "The camera that made your photograph. Could even a witch do that? What about the gun? Is it like any weapon you've ever seen or heard of? Navarre," she said, wetting her lips, "you must believe me. I am from another time, another place-I am from the future. I lived in a place called New York City, I was married and had a little girl but they were both killed before I traveled back in time. I was a reporter for a newspaper, a kind of scribe. Please, Navarre, please believe me."

Her gaze burned into his and Navarre very nearly looked away, but instead, looked deeper, trying to see into the heart of this woman he loved. There was no evil in her, of that he was certain, but was there madness?

She moved to stand beside him, wrapping her arms around his waist, gazing up at him. "Do you believe my words of love were false as well? I would never lie to you. Will you believe me?"

" 'Tis a wondrous story to believe, were it but true."

Kendra jumped at the sound of the harsh voice cutting through the stillness of the forest behind them. Navarre moved to put his arm protectively around her, then his golden eyes narrowed and he dropped his arm from her shoulder.

Robin Hood stood in the clearing, a longbow in one hand, the other clenched at his waist, his eyes dancing with anger. Twenty men flanked him on either side. Navarre could see Marian timidly poking her head from behind the outlaw.

"Good morrow, fair maid-or does the term no longer apply?" Robin said with a brief bow in Kendra's direction.

Navarre thought quickly. He knew not how much the outlaw had overheard of her insane tale, but he did know that if Locksley thought Kendra had been persuaded to Navarre's side of things, he would take her prisoner. Better for them both if he thought her affections toward him only a ruse to help Richard. Breathing a silent prayer that she would understand and go along with his ploy, the knight turned on her, his hands clenched into fists.

"So this is why you seduced me, wench! You lure me into Sherwood, leaving me open to an attack from Locksley and his cutthroats."

Kendra stared at him, her mouth open, her blue eyes registering first shock, then fury. Navarre felt his spirit sink. She thought he meant it, that he did not really trust her. In faith, he must tell her the truth later. He could make her understand.

"I did not!" Kendra exploded. "If you don't believe me ask Robin-ask Marian! There was no plan."

"As if I would believe them. At least you were telling the truth when you said you did not harm Marian." He darted a glance at the girl. "Did she? Tell me truly, Marian, and may-hap I will forgive you for your own treachery. The blood on your gown- whose blood was it really? Did you leave it to lead us to the witch or was it to make me grieve and lament your passing-or was it the witch's idea?"

"Kendra knew nothing about it," Marian said softly, hanging her head. "I-I was angry with you for ignoring me, for leaving me at the mercy of John and Garrick. I stole chicken's blood from the kitchen. I suppose I thought if you cared, you would follow." She glanced over at Kendra. "I am sorry, Kendra."

"You should not be asking her forgiveness but mine," Navarre said harshly. "You repay my kindness with wickedness!"

"Do not speak to Lady Marian about treachery and wickedness," Robin said, casually slipping an arrow from the quiver on his back and fitting it into the longbow he held. "For that is a crime you know too well yourself. As for this encounter, I am quite willing to take credit for that which is mine, old friend, however, in this I must plead innocent. Nevertheless, I do thank the lady if indeed her plan was to deliver you into my hands. However, I do not understand the meaning of the story she was spinning unless it was meant to delay you until we arrived."

"I did not plan this," Kendra said emphatically, "and my story is true. I was sitting by the spring-"

"Sitting very enticingly, I might add," Navarre said.

Suddenly Kendra had had enough. She whirled on Navarre, her hand flying to connect with his solid face in a resounding whack. He flinched and she spun away from him, resolutely stalking over to Robin Hood where she stood, arms folded across her chest, her expression furious.

"I do think that-" Robin began, only to be cut off by Kendra's angry voice.

"Shut up! I've had enough! I've had enough from all of you! You're going to listen to me!" She punched her finger into the astonished outlaw's chest as he and his men looked on, open-mouthed. "You heard me tell Navarre my story. I am from the future! I don't know why I was brought back here but here I am! Now if you want to lock me up, kill me, burn me at the stake, go ahead and do it! But there's one thing you should know. Since I'm from the future I know the future and I could be a great asset to your plans to save England! Moreover, Navarre and Garrick have a weapon that could easily kill Richard from a great distance. So I suggest everyone be a little nicer to me, if you want my help."

She sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands, too exhausted to go on.

Robin stared down at her for a long moment, letting the longbow sag, the arrow between his fingers.

"Your words ring true," he said, "and it would explain much. Yet, there is only one way to find out where you speak the truth or lie."

Kendra looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, her voice calm. "What do I have to do?" she asked. "Just tell me what to do."

The corner of Robin's mouth lifted in a half smile. "You, milady? Why you do not have to do a thing. Little John!"

The big man strode forward at the command. "Aye, Robin?"

"Go into the forest. Find Magda and bring her here."

"Magda?" Kendra's eyes widened at the sound of the name. "Is she the druid priestess, the one who prophesied I would come?"

"The one who prophesied that Richard's salvation would come to Abury," Robin said. "Aye. She will come and tell us if your words be false or true."

"What about him?" Little John asked, jerking his head toward Navarre.

Robin lifted the longbow once again and pulled the string taut, the shaft of the arrow balanced straight between his fingers and the bow. He turned the point toward Navarre de Galliard and let the arrow fly. Kendra cried out as the shaft darted through the air toward the knight.

"Navarre!"

Navarre didn't move as the arrow winged toward him, even as the two men holding him dropped his arms and fled. Navarre de Galliard stood straight and unyielding, staring at Robin Hood, his golden eyes burning with suppressed anger.

The arrow swept past him and buried itself with a resounding plunk in a round knot in the tree.

Robin smiled with a curious kind of satisfaction, then turned back to Little John. "Tie him up," he ordered. "Tie them both up and set a guard over them. We shall hear what Magda says about the woman, whether she be Richard's salvation"-the smile disappeared as suddenly as it had come-"or his destruction."

The woman called Magda sat at the fire's edge, her eyes closed, her hands clasped together in front of her, her throat quivering with the low-voiced keening she had begun the moment she first saw Kendra. Little John had brought the druid priestess into the camp a few minutes before sundown and now he, Robin, Alan-a-Dale, Kendra, and Navarre all sat watching the old woman rock back and forth performing her strange ritual. A handful of Robin's men stood guarding them. Marian sat in the shadows, her eyes round with wonder. Kendra and Navarre sat on the ground with their backs touching, their hands tied together behind them.

"What is she doing?" Kendra asked, craning her head back toward Navarre.

"She is communing with the gods," Navarre said, his voice low. "In a moment she will cast the runes to the ground and read them. Your fate rests in her hands."

Kendra closed her eyes. "I thought you believed me when I said I wasn't a witch," she whispered. "Did all of last night mean so little to you? I gave myself to you, body and soul. You said you loved me. Did you think to revenge yourself on me by making me think it was true?"

Navarre opened his mouth to tell her it was only a ruse to protect her, when out of the corner of his eyes he caught sight of Alan-a-Dale sitting behind the copse of bushes at their backs, listening very attentively to their conversation.

"Aye," he said roughly. "You had tortured me with your seductress ways for so long, that I decided to make you burn with the same fire you had lit inside of me. Now that I have satisfied myself, I am free of you."

He grimaced as he felt Kendra's sharp intake of breath and felt the tremble in her body at his words. Cautiously he felt for her hands behind his back, hoping to press them and communicate to her his pretense. He was surprised when she complacently curled her fingers inside of his. Turning around toward her as far as the ropes would allow, he saw one eyelid slide into what could have been a wink before she glared back at him.

"Do not speak to me," she said, averting her face. "For you have sorely wounded me with your hateful words. I knew you were evil and that Robin was good! May God forgive me for ever believing your words of love."

Magda stopped singing abruptly, then slowly turned and looked directly at Kendra. Their gazes locked for a long moment and Navarre saw Kendra shiver as the old woman's eyes narrowed.

"Bring her to me," she said.

Robin cut Kendra's bonds and jerked her to her feet, propelling her toward the old woman, his face grim.

The forest had grown dark again and Navarre wondered how soon he dared try to escape. If Magda declared Kendra to be Richard's salvation, Robin would grant her freedom and in return, she would help him as soon as she could, of that he was certain. He frowned. Or rather, he was reasonably certain. Surely she had realized his ploy, else she would not have winked at him. Unless that was mayhap an accident, not intended as a signal. No, of course it was. Of course she knew he had not truly betrayed her.

Robin stopped at the old woman's side and, dropping Kendra's arm, bowed from the waist, one hand sweeping down toward Magda.

"Milady," he said politely, "this is Magda, the last druid priestess in all of England. Do not fear. Even if Magda's words speak against you, I promise no harm will come to you." His white teeth flashed evenly in the moonlight. "Unlike my friend, Navarre, I do not mind that your beauty has ensorcelled me, and I welcome any fire you may wish to ignite within me."

Navarre felt the jealousy dart through him, then smiled grimly to himself. Locksley would burn in hell before he would touch Kendra.

"Come here, child," Magda said, motioning with one gnarled hand. Kendra sank down beside her, her eyes suddenly round and fearful. Magda lifted one hand to her face, touching her cheek lightly, staring deeply once again into the woman's eyes, her own pale ones hawk-like in the moonlight. Kendra stared back at her as one transfixed, and Navarre shifted uneasily on the ground.

He had heard many tales of Magda. Magda the Good, she was called, but nevertheless, the thought of Kendra's fate resting in the hands of a pagan priestess who still worshiped trees and a whole plethora of gods made him suddenly quite nervous. He leaned forward as Magda picked up Kendra's hand, turning it over and smoothing the palm with her own. She then cupped Kendra's face between her withered fingers and gazed for another long moment into the woman's eyes.

"Your palm speaks of great destiny," Magda said at last, "and your eyes have revealed your secrets. Robin has told me naught of you, neither where you came from, nor whom you are." She chuckled, the sound deep and surprisingly pleasant. "In spite of himself, Robin is, in fact, quite the Christian. The only way he believes poor Magda anymore is if I tell him all, without his giving me so much as a hint."

"Enough, Magda," Robin said quietly. "Read the runes and tell me of this woman -who she is, where she is from, what her purpose is in England."

Magda nodded, wisps of thin gray hair falling forward as she dropped Kendra's hand and picked up a jumble of small, stone-like tablets from her lap.

Magda was keening again, soft and low, and Navarre felt a prickle of apprehension dance up his spine. Kendra glanced back at him and he saw fear in her eyes, then carefully, almost imperceptibly, she once again lowered her left eyelid. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath and now expelled it in a sigh of relief. She understood. Relieved, yet impatient to be rid of his bonds, Navarre tested the ropes that held him. He froze as Magda's voice drifted back to him.

"Do not struggle so against your destiny, Navarre de Galliard," she said in her singsong voice. "You must allow the salvation to touch you as well."

Navarre saw Robin glance his way, and responded with a shrug.

"Tell me of Kendra O'Brien," Robin said.

The priestess dropped Kendra's hand and stood. "She is not what she appears to be. Her home is in a far and distant place, and yet, it does not yet exist. She lives where men fly and people live to great ages, where people speak to one another from far distances through small boxes, and where other, powerful boxes control almost everything. Their powerful, mighty weapons destroy everything in their path and warfare has become so fearful they dare not wage it for fear of destroying the earth itself. She is from the far and distant future, my lord."

Robin flung the drink he held into the fire, his face wreathed with anger. "Again this nonsense! I care not of men flying or small boxes. Is she the one sent to save Richard?"

Magda paused, the moment long and pregnant. Navarre tensed as he watched Kendra's back grow rigid with apprehension.

"Aye," Magda said, nodding her gray head. "She is Richard's salvation, but she also brings his destruction with her."

"The gun," Kendra whispered under her breath.

"She spoke of a weapon," Robin said quickly, "a weapon that Navarre and Garrick can use to kill Richard."

Magda nodded, continuing to stare at the runes. "Aye, I see it now. She is Richard's salvation, though perhaps not as we supposed." She turned and looked directly at Navarre. "Perhaps this would be a good time to inform Sir de Galliard about the barons journeying to Nottingham, eh, Sir Robin?"

Navarre shot the outlaw a suspicious look. "What does the crone mean?"

Robin crossed the short expanse between them, coming to a stop in front of his prisoner, legs spread, hands on his hips. He stared down at Navarre, his sharp-featured face shadowed in the firelight, his gaze searching that of his old friend. Navarre returned his stare, trying not to remember the carefree days before the crusade when he and Robin had been friends.

Apparently the same thoughts were crossing the outlaw's mind, for suddenly he squatted beside his prisoner, his face earnest, his voice low.

"Why, Navarre?" he asked. "Why have you turned against Richard and England? I know you are too intelligent not to realize the destruction that will come if John sits upon the throne. Or perhaps you hope to be one of those who will pull his hapless strings and in this way rule England?"

"You know better than that, Robin," Navarre said, finding it hard suddenly to maintain his anger as his old friend spoke to him so frankly.

Robin shrugged. "I know nothing about you now. The Navarre I knew would not have thrown his lot in with such men as Garrick Neushaw, nor Richard's ruthless brother. The Navarre I knew would have been at my side, helping me fight the men who are bleeding England dry, not fighting with them."

"It is Richard who has bled England dry, my friend," Navarre said solemnly. "He sold her lands and titles to the highest bidder-I am proof of that-so that he might journey to other lands and wage war against the innocent."

Robin lifted one tawny brow in surprise. "Surely you do not consider infidels innocent?"

"I consider any woman or child an innocent, regardless of their religion."

"Ah." Robin sat down beside the knight, linking his hands together. "You speak of Acre."

Navarre glanced over at Kendra and Magda. The two sat silently, their gazes fixed on the two men. The knight nodded.

"Aye. If you've heard of the atrocities there then you know why I have turned my back upon Richard."

"War is not pretty, Navarre. You know that better than I. Soldiers kill and oftentimes it is the helpless and innocent who must pay."

Navarre twisted his arms suddenly against the ropes holding him. "War does not justify murder," he said, his voice deceptively soft. "Not even for a king."

Robin nodded. "I have heard tales of a great knight whose heart was stolen by an infidel maid. When she died, at Richard's command, they say the knight turned his back on his king and vowed to one day murder him."

Navarre saw Kendra struggling to keep from looking at him, felt Magda's eyes upon him, and fought against the rage bubbling up inside of him.

"Children's fables," he said, when he could govern his words. "What is this of the barons?"

"Ah, yes, another interesting twist to the story. I and my men began a journey to Nottingham last eve, which is why the fair Kendra's absence went unnoticed. I had taken most of my men, leaving only some younger louts as guards, none of which had yet met our beautiful guest." He nodded in Kendra's direction. "Along our journey we chanced to bed at an inn-Alan-a-Dale and Little John and I-whilst the rest of the men continued toward Nottingham." He stood and paced a few steps toward the fire, his hands clasped behind him. "Can you guess whom we met at the inn?"

"I am not a child to play at guessing games," Navarre growled.

Robin spun around, the cocksure grin back in place. "A large group of men entered as we sat drinking our ale, several of whom I recognized-Warwick, Suffolk, and others-" Navarre stiffened and Robin's smile widened. "What do you suppose could have moved those worthies to journey together?"

Navarre stared back at him stonily. He and Garrick had arranged for a meeting with the barons, but it was not to be for another fortnight. Had Garrick taken advantage of his absence and called for the barons to meet without him?

"'Rather a foolish proposition, wouldn't you say," Robin went on, "for all of the most powerful men in England to gather together in one place? 'Twould make them an easy target for their enemies."

"What is your point?" Navarre demanded.