She didn't realize she was crying until the tear had trickled to the edge of her chin. Reaching up to wipe the moisture away, a much larger hand suddenly imprisoned hers. She looked up into the golden eyes of Navarre. With a sob, Kendra threw herself against him, her arms around his neck. He gathered her to him as her sudden cry rent the silence around them. One of the guards peered into the cell, then laughed and passed on. Robin and the other prisoners moved tactfully away, leaving Navarre to comfort her in relative privacy.

Kendra clung to her knight. Her tears seemed never ending, as though a dam deep inside of her had broken, as pain, submerged for years, poured out of her, drenching both of them with the truth of their predicament, drowning them in its sadness. At last, her stomach twisted one last time and she stopped crying, as suddenly as she had begun. Peeling empty and bereft, she stood within the protection of Navarre's arms and leaned her head against his chest, silent and spent.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm not usually such a baby. It's just that-" she broke off as the tears threatened to return. She brought herself back under a tenuous control, her lashes brushing her cheeks as she kept her gaze on her clasped hands. "I'm so afraid, Navarre."

"Garrick will not harm you," he promised. "I failed Talam. I will not fail you." He raked his fingers through her tangled hair, gathering the mass over one shoulder and using it to draw her nearer. "Talam was the first woman I truly loved, and my love for her was deep, but it was nothing compared to the love I bear you, Kendra. Do you know why I thought you a witch?" She shook her head wordlessly. "Because I had never felt such desire for a woman in all of my life, had never known a burning fire that possessed me night and day, and so I thought that I must be enchanted." He hesitated. "Do you know now what I believe?" he asked.

Kendra shook her head again, azure eyes locked with golden.

He leaned toward her, his lips close to hers as he spoke softly. "I do believe you have enchanted me. Kendra O'Brien," he said, laying one finger across her lips as she started to protest. "But not with magic. You have enchanted me with your courage, your sense of honor, your love of life, your good humor, and aye, if I be honest, your beauty. But most of all, you have enchanted me with your love. Think you that I will lose you easily? To Garrick? Even to time itself?" He shook his head. "Nay. We shall find a way, you and I, a way to circumvent the very powers of heaven if need be."

"And what about hell, my love?" Kendra whispered.

"Aye," his voice buried itself in her hair, along with his kiss, "if I have to fight the devil himself."

"Talking about me again behind my back, eh, Navarre?"

The two looked up and Kendra sagged against Navarre as the door to their cell swung open and they stared into the laughing eyes of the Sheriff of Nottingham.

Heart pounding, Kendra clung to Navarre, protesting audibly when the knight gently but firmly pushed her away from him, facing the sheriff in a warrior's stance. Robin moved to stand beside him. She glanced from Garrick to the eight guards behind him and paled.

"No, Navarre," she whispered, moving to his side. "There are too many of them." Navarre stiffened and shoved her again, more roughly this time.

"Stay back, Kendra."

Garrick laughed, hands behind his back, his black cape whipping about him as he and his entourage entered the dirty room. "Do you challenge me and my men. Navarre?" His even teeth flashed as his gray eyes darkened to charcoal. "How noble, how brave, how..." his smile disappeared "... stupid."

Navarre went for the sheriff's throat at the same instant that Garrick jerked his hand from behind his back. To Kendra it all happened in slow motion, the knight's desperate lunge forward just as Garrick's hand appeared, the gun in his clutches. Kendra heard herself scream as two shots rang out and Navarre went down, Robin beside him. Then everything went back to real time as one of the guards grabbed her from behind, the injured men of Sherwood rose to attack the guards, and all hell broke loose.

Kendra kicked and screamed against her assailant but he stood as unmoved as a statue to her batterings, his hands like twin vises around her wrists. Kendra could hear the shouts and cries of the men as the soldiers moved in and began flailing the prisoners with their fists as well as their feet. Suddenly the man who held Kendra hoisted her up onto his shoulders. Continuing to scream at the top of her lungs, she craned her neck around, fighting desperately to find Navarre. At last, she saw him, lying motionless on his side near the door, Robin beside him.

"Navarre! Robin!" Neither man answered and Kendra began to thrash in earnest. "Let me go you rotten bastard! Let me go!"

Garrick swept her a languid look, then nodded at two of his men. They crossed to the fallen men and pulled them to the center of the room. To Kendra's relief, they both began to moan and struggle against the guards, proving they were at least alive. They slumped against one another. Robin's shoulder was bloody and a rivulet of crimson ran down the side of Navarre's face. But it looked to her like neither had been directly hit.

"Navarre!" Kendra cried, struggling so violently that her guard lost his grip and she went crashing to the floor. Her elbow hit first and she was blinded by the pain for a moment. When her vision cleared, Garrick towered over her, his leering smile sending a wave of nausea through her before he turned to Robin.

"Locksley, old fellow, you must be the first to hear the good news. Richard's ransom has been paid and he journeys even as we speak, hurrying home to England."

" 'Tis the best news you could give me," Robin said, his voice laced with pain as he clutched his shoulder. "Though why you yourself would call it good I know not."

Garrick feigned astonishment. "My dear sir, I would have you know that Prince John and I are so anxious to see dear Richard again that we have sent an entourage to meet him, to accompany him on the long journey back to England. Why, who knows what might befall the king if he were not properly protected? Alas," his eyes grew sad, his mouth clownishly pulled down at the corner, "in spite of our efforts, I would not be surprised to hear that King Richard never returns to England." His voice fell to a stage whisper. "He has many enemies, you know."

"Aye, one who is Satan's spawn," Robin said, trying to stand. He collapsed back to the floor as Garrick's laughter swept through the dank cell.

"Hardly that, my friend, though I do thank you for the compliment. My dear stepmother would have been proud. And now, if you will excuse me, my friends, I would like to retire." He reached down and grabbed Kendra, pulling her up and into his arms. His hand closed over her breast and she cried out as he tightened his fingers. Kendra reacted immediately, trying to kick him in the shin, but Garrick only dodged her blows, laughed, and squeezed harder. Hot tears of frustration and shame burned down her cheeks as he lowered his head and drew his tongue down the crevice between her breasts.

"No!" The ragged cry sent the sheriff back a step from her as Navarre shot up from the floor and buried his fist in Garrick's face. Kendra went down, sobbing, as eight guards converged on the knight and dragged him to his feet. Garrick pulled himself up from the floor, wiping a thin trickle of blood from his mouth, his gray eyes like shards of glass as he faced his attacker.

"I swear upon my mother's grave," Navarre said harshly, struggling against the men holding him, "if you take her now, I shall hunt you down like the dog you are and slowly torture you to death!"

"That will be difficult to accomplish, I wager, while hanging from the gallows," Garrick said. "You have lost, Navarre. Robin has lost. Richard has lost. But I at last, have won! And now, I shall celebrate my victory." He moved toward Kendra.

Navarre went suddenly still between the men holding him. "Let her go," he said. The desperation in his voice brought fresh tears to Kendra's eyes as she slumped against the guard restraining her. "In the name of our friendship, I beg you, let her go, Garrick."

"In the name of our friendship?" Garrick smiled and took a step toward him. Kendra stiffened as he stopped inches away from Navarre, then she stared in confusion as the sheriff lifted his hand and drew his fingers gently down the length of the knight's face, an expression of tenderness in his eyes.

"I think not, dear Navarre," he whispered, letting his fingers curl inward. "Our friendship is officially... over. Or will be as soon as the execution takes place tomorrow morning."

"No!" Kendra shouted, straining forward. "You promised."

"Oh, I didn't tell you? So sorry, so remiss of me. Yes, I've decided to entertain Nottingham tomorrow by hanging all of these scurvy outlaws."

"You promised you wouldn't hurt him!" Kendra screamed helplessly, feeling almost beyond sanity as the sheriff raised his fist. "You promised!"

Garrick's laughter filled the cell, echoed off the stone walls and pierced her throat, her eyes, her ears. She watched, suddenly silent, frozen, as the sheriff buried his fist in Navarre's stomach. That first blow doubled him over. The second brought him to his knees. Kendra felt her legs collapsing beneath her even as the guard held her erect.

"Stop it! Stop it!" she cried, as Garrick's fists cut into the man she loved. "I won't tell you the secret if you kill him. Do you hear me? I won't tell you!"

Navarre lay in a heap on the floor and Garrick stepped back from him, cradling his fist in his hand.

"Bring her."

Kendra couldn't seem to stop screaming. She screamed as she was dragged back and hefted once again onto the guard's back; she screamed as he headed for the cell door, Garrick behind him; she screamed as the door slammed behind them and the sheriff bolted it shut. Then she stopped screaming, for someone else was screaming. Kendra's breath caught in her throat. She began to sob silently, closing her eyes against Navarre's ragged cry of despair.

As the guard carried her away, and Navarre's desperation followed her, a strange calm settled over Kendra. It was up to her now, and panicking would only make things worse. She had to remain cool. She had to think. She stopped struggling as they journeyed through the dim corridor and ransacked her brain for an idea, an answer, a way out. She was coming up empty for the fifth time as suddenly her transportation slowed, then came to a complete halt. A strong, unfamiliar voice rang out.

"Put her down. Release that woman at once!"

Lifting herself up on her captor's shoulder and twisting around so she could see who had spoken, Kendra stared in amazement at the challenger. A man stood in the hallway in front of them, his form silhouetted against the torchlight, legs braced firmly apart, his girth almost as wide as his height, which was little more than five feet. How this tiny butterball of a man thought he could defy the sheriff and his guard was a puzzlement. Who was her diminutive defender?

"Father Tucker." Garrick's voice sounded hushed, strained. He gestured to the soldier beside him and Kendra slid to the floor in a startled heap.

Kendra stared up at the man who had so easily commanded the sheriff. His bald head gleamed in the dim light as he bowed it toward her. His brown robes were a trifle grubby, but a large golden crucifix hung from the rosary beads around his thick waist. His face gleamed with ruddiness, while a circle of curly gray hair made a ring about his head, giving him an almost angelic look. That gentle comparison stopped abruptly with the man's eyes, which were a dark, steely blue. They were eyes that seemed to see to the core of a man's soul, eyes that now had the effrontery to cast a look of condemnation toward the Sheriff of Nottingham.

Kendra glanced at Garrick, who stood frozen, practically hugging the stone walls of the corridor. Fear, stark and real, glistened in the sheriffs eyes, and with dawning comprehension, Kendra made the connection. Father Tucker. Friar Tuck. Friar Tuck. Robin Hood's Friar Tuck? How many could there be? But what was he doing living in Nottingham Castle instead of taking care of the souls of the merry outlaws living in Sherwood? Perhaps he hadn't yet gone over to Robin's side. Perhaps he didn't even know what was going on. In any case, his next words brought a glimmer of hope to her heart.

"What evil are you about this night, my son?"

The words were soft, concerned, but his stem gaze belied their gentleness.

"Father," Garrick whispered, "I thought you had left the castle."

"You hoped I had left," the priest said tersely. "You hoped I would not see the new depths of degradation to which you have descended." He shook his head. "I had such hopes for you, Garrick. You were doing so well."

"You do not understand. This woman-"

"This woman is now under the protection of Holy Mother Church. Give her to me. Now."

The sheriff nodded and Kendra didn't waste time asking stupid questions. She jumped to her feet and hurried to the ample protection of the priest's body. Friar Tuck shook his finger at Garrick. "And while I attend to this lost lamb, you will ask God to have mercy on your immortal soul. I will assign penance for you directly. This way."

The sheriff dismissed the guard. Kendra glanced back over her shoulder fearfully as Garrick followed the priest meekly down the corridor. They arrived in front of a wooden door so small Garrick had to duck to fit himself through the opening. Inside was a room about half the size of the cell she and the other prisoners had occupied. Plain to the point of being ugly, there were no tapestries, no stained glass windows, no statues, save for one of Mary. A table was crowded with candles of various sizes and heights and the light lent a ghostly aura to the chamber. A giant crucifix hung on the wall behind a crude altar, and hard benches lined either side of the room, forming an aisle down the middle. Tuck led Kendra toward a small booth built to one side, draped with red velvet curtains.

"I shall hear this child's confession first," the priest told Garrick, "and then yours. Prepare yourself.'"

Once behind the curtains, Friar Tuck took Kendra's hand and squeezed it sympathetically. "Poor child," he whispered. "From the looks of you, you have already endured much."

"Don't worry about me," she said, "it's Robin Hood who is in danger-and Navarre de Galliard." Kendra searched his face as he didn't respond to her words. "Are you Robin's friend? Do you know he is in the dungeon? Are you Friar Tuck?"

"Shhh," he cautioned, peeking out between the curtains. Garrick knelt obediently before the altar. Tuck turned back to her, one side of his mouth quirked up in quiet amusement. "I am Friar Tuck and I am indeed Robin's friend. I have worked hard to maintain my place within these walls, child, in order to help not only Robin, but others in Nottingham, so please, keep your voice down. Marian has told me of your plight and there is no need to worry."

"I'm sorry," Kendra whispered. "How will you help them?"

"There is no way tonight," the priest said softly, "but do not despair.'"

"But he's going to hang them in the morning!"

Tuck patted her hand. "Robin is my friend and I will not leave him here to die. Navarre de Galliard is another matter, but, because of his kindness to Marian, he shall be freed as well."

"Thank you, Father," Kendra said sincerely, breathing a sigh of relief. "You're as terrific as your legend."

The priest blinked at her, then chuckled again. "My legend? Faith, I did not know I had one."

Kendra parted the curtains slightly and watched Garrick kneeling before the altar. She let the curtains fall back together. "Why is the sheriff obeying you?"

"That is a long story. Suffice it to say that I am the one man who helps hold the demons haunting him at bay."

The curtains of the booth were suddenly jerked apart as the Sheriff of Nottingham thrust his face into the private sanctuary, his lips twisted in a leering smile, his gray eyes dancing with depravity.

"I have asked God for a favor," Garrick said with a short laugh, "and He, in His infinite wisdom, has granted it. Step aside, dear Father, for God Himself has ordained that the woman is mine to do with as I see fit."

Kendra shivered and shrank into the corner of the booth.

"Nonsense," Tuck snorted, placing one hand against Garrick's chest and shoving him back from the curtains. He stepped out of the confessional and glared at the sheriff. "God has done no such thing. The woman stays here, with me."

The gray eyes darkened and Kendra began to fear for the little priest. Whatever power he wielded over Garrick seemed to be waning fast.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what I can or cannot do?"

"You know who I am," Friar Tuck said, his hands folded in front of him, "and Whom I represent. Your disrespect will not go unpunished. Take care you do not push me too far."

"I am the Sheriff of Nottingham." Garrick's mouth twitched, then spread into a mocking smile. "And in my city, I do the punishing. Take care you do not push me too far." He lunged for Kendra. Using the heavy crucifix dangling from his belt, Tuck popped him on the forehead much as he might have an unruly dog. Garrick sat down unceremoniously at the foot of the steps, one hand to his head, his gaze unfocused, disoriented.

"You will not take her," the priest said. "You must fight your darker side, Garrick. We have spoken of this often and you can have the victory if you only have faith."

Garrick rose to his knees, his fair face drawn up in a dark scowl. He crept toward the priest like an uncaged animal. "This night will see you out of Nottingham Castle -forever."

"Then who will protect your soul from the minions of hell, my son?" Tuck asked softly. The sheriff stopped in his predatorial approach, his face suddenly stricken. "From the demons your stepmother called forth to possess you when you were but a child?"

Garrick's eyes widened, like a wild animal trapped, then went dull and hollow. Slowly he turned back and faced the crucifix on the wall. Kendra stifled a sob as his childlike, bewildered voice echoed around them. "She is not here. Say she is not here, Father."

"Do not fear, Garrick," Tuck said, and Kendra felt tears again at the sound of the true compassion in the priest's voice. "Your stepmother is dead. She can no longer harm you. It is your own wickedness that harms you now, and others."

A pounding at the door drove the bewilderment from Garrick's eyes as the wooden barrier slammed open. The soldier outside cursed as he bent almost double through the opening, then stood at attention in front of the sheriff. Garrick blinked, as though awakening from a sleep, and with sinking heart, Kendra saw the sharpness return to his eyes like the edge of a steely blade.

"Jenkins, what are you doing here? I told you to take de Galliard's place with the men."

"Nottingham is under attack," the big man reported. "Those cursed outlaws have infiltrated the walls and are setting fires all over the city."

"Good. At last, they have made a fatal mistake." Garrick paused and looked back at Kendra. "Do wait up for me my dear, for I will be back to celebrate my victory with you, whether dear Father Tucker likes it or not."

His laughter rang out again as he left the chapel, pulling the door shut behind him.

"He's crazy," Kendra whispered, her voice echoing in the silence of the room.

Tuck shot her a sharp look. "You didn't know?" She shook her head and he shrugged. "Aye, and has been since he was just a wee lad, though it has only recently come to the forefront of his personality. His mind is double-sided, changes from moment to moment. At times he is the child he was before his stepmother-" he shook his head and fell silent.

"What?" Kendra prompted.

"There are horrors even a man of God fears to speak aloud. Rest assured, Garrick did not become the monster he is by himself."

"It doesn't matter." Kendra sank to a bench, her legs suddenly too weak to hold her. "He is a monster and he intends to kill Navarre, Robin, and all of his men, at dawn."

Tuck sighed and sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. "Have faith, my dear. Remember how God sent an angel to open the cell where the apostle Paul was imprisoned?"

Kendra leaned her face into the palms of her hands. "Somehow I'd feel better if I knew they had something a little more definite to count on, Father. Do you have a plan? Is this attack on the castle part of it?"

The priest didn't answer and in irritation she lifted her face to his, only to find his blue eyes twinkling as he patted her shoulder.

"God works in mysterious ways, my child, and many have entertained angels unawares. Now, wait here and I will fetch you a softer pallet."

Kendra tried to return his optimistic smile as he walked away, but she fell her emotional strength crumbling. Blinking back tears, she stretched out on the bench, her hands trembling beneath her head.

"Angels," she whispered. "Dear God, let them bring swords." She fell asleep with Navarre's name on her lips.

Chapter Thirteen.

The servants came for Kendra in the chapel the next morning and after an initial protest. Friar Tuck changed his mind and encouraged her to go with them.

"On the tourney field my dear, you will be better able to flee when all hell breaks loose."

Kendra frowned at him, confused by his less than priest-like statement. "Is all hell going to break loose?"