In the castle courtyard, there was an incredible and opaque tangle. The Sheriff of Nottingham tried to control it with harsh orders and soldiers while their lordships were escorted to safety by their guards. Crowds of people rushed to the gates, soldiers pushed them back, and shouting came from everywhere. The stable had caught fire, and even if it was slowly brought under control, horses were still running crisscross. The men barely managed to catch the startled animals. Mothers called for their children, desperate cries mingled with the loud crackling of the fire, groaning wood, neighing horses, and barked orders echoing across the castle courtyard. A tremendous noise level and mindless chaos, as if a fox had invaded the henhouse. And all because of...

"Hood!" blared Guy of Gisborne's voice, spurred on by all the anger that seethed within him. This was supposed to be a joyous celebration, and now that filthy good-for-nothing had ruined it all again!

With shock, Guy watched Robin snatch Marian from a guard's hands.

"Just a little more, Sire," chimed in beside him as his anger burned brighter than the flames around him.

"Get on with it! Lift the damn thing already!" he barked at the men pushing the farm wagon upwards with groans. Immediately he crawled out from under the cart. His body ached, and for a moment, Guy had to hold on to himself to keep from breaking. But immediately, his attention was fixed again on what was really important: Marian.

Guy was about to turn his steps towards the action when one of the soldiers near Marian suddenly threw the lady over his shoulder. Gisborne's features slipped at the sight, and for a second, he stared, stunned at the image, before quickening his pace. Until now, he could have justified the soldiers' involvement - but this was clearly going too far. Only now did he realize that something was wrong.

His gaze rushed back and forth between Robin and Marian. Her red hair disappeared between the fleeing people, and Guy stumbled to the side to avoid a steed. Everything in him bristled and tore. What was he to do? He had to make a quick decision: Nail Hood or save Marian? He didn't even have to finish those thoughts to have already made the decision.

"Damn!" Guy picked up speed and immediately ran in the direction the disguised guards tried to escape with the clamoring Marian.

"Sheriff!" He yelled, hoping his voice would manage to rise above all the noise. One of the damned bards was even still playing his goddamn lute!

Two soldiers turned their heads, one running toward the Sheriff to divert his attention.

"Father!" shouted Guy, and now the scowling Sheriff of Nottingham turned his head in his direction. Guy pointed at Hood, who was tugging at the knife that held him against the stand wall.

"Robin Hood! Set him down! Quick!" he shouted, but without slowing his steps. He ran on, past fleeing people he pushed aside and servants and soldiers who brought water in a chain.

It burned under his fingers to finish off this damned thief and lawbreaker here and now. "They have kidnapped Lady De Burgh! Follow me! IMMEDIATELY!" he yelled at more men who followed on his heels in pursuit. Today he had a different target!

🏹

A punch hit the self-proclaimed King of Thieves in the face, and briefly, Hood saw only stars. Two men gripped Robin tightly by the arms and shoulders while a third grabbed the knife to pull it out. He tugged at the knife with a furrowed brow but couldn't get it out either. The blade was really deep in the wood and fabric. Then suddenly and entirely unexpectedly, a voice sounded from behind the guards.

"What makes Clonk and says 'what'?"

The soldier turned his head. "What?"

A hand as big as a bear's paw grabbed the man's head and slammed it full force against the wall. The metal helmet produced a dull >>clonk<< and the guard slumped unconscious while the others turned their heads in alarm.

But John took advantage of the moment of surprise, reached out, and smashed their heads together with such force that they, too, fell to the floor like wet sacks.

Robin groaned, still suffering from the pain of the previous blow to the guards, but nevertheless gave a harsh laugh when he saw John.

"I knew I picked just the right man for the challenge!" said Robin, as John grinned, grabbed the knife, and pulled it out as easily as from a block of butter. His head was buzzing, so he pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Now, let's get out of here! Before they catch us!"With that, Robin hurriedly directed his steps towards a nearby side building, for the Sheriff was already barking at men to give chase.

"What are you doing? The gate is that way," John said, waving in the direction Scarlet had also disappeared with Marian.

"Will escaped that way! They'll first lower the portcullis, and then we'll be trapped like mice! We'll take an exit they won't count on!"

Under an archway and in front of a double door stood two guards with pikes, who immediately crossed lances as the rabble approached.

"Stop! Stop at once!" they sternly commanded, but the two thieves had no intention of heeding this warning.

Immediately, one of the guards thrust his gun at John. The skewer narrowly missed the giant and whizzed past his torso. John, in turn, immediately grabbed the long wooden shaft with a firm grip and pulled on it with a powerful jerk. The poor fellow stumbled towards him and stared at him with wide-open eyes. The bandit clenched his right hand into a fist, and with a blow like a hammer, John knocked out the guard's light. A single impact was already enough - and Robin hoped he hadn't directly smashed the poor guy's skull with it.

At that moment, the second one dared to attack.

"Palim Palim!" a voice suddenly rang out in a bright singsong. A blow struck the guard with full force at the back of the head, accompanied by a bright-sounding >>clang<<. The sound of a lute bursting, its last note testifying to a heroic end of countless songs, while the resonant body was merely held by a few strings and rocked like a bell under the jetty.

The bard, who until just now had been plucking his lute and singing loudly despite all the chaos raging around him, had rushed to the scene and was looking at the broken instrument in his hands with evident heartbreak. Chin-length brown hair flowed in wild waves around a charming, attractive face with a trimmed beard shadow on the rakish cheeks. There was a flash of mischievousness in the fawn eyes, unlike Robin's.

"You owe me a new lute, Robin," the bard stated, pulling a regretful pout, curving the corners of his mouth downward most emphatically. The young man with colorful clothes usually stood out among the thieves like a rooster. However, at a festival like this, Robin had chosen the minstrel as the perfect spy and inconspicuous observer. A cheerful man called Alan-a-Dale.

"I'll get you three lutes in a minute, Alan, as soon as we get out of here alive!" Robin said with a laugh while John was already pushing open the double doors, and they fled into the shadowy darkness of the corridor.

"Get them, you lazy dogs!" the Sheriff's voice rolled like thunder into the dim corridor, along with the sound of chainmail and the clank of their pursuers' swords.

The fire of torches flickered as the fleeing bandits ran past them. The drumming of footsteps behind them even drowned out their pounding heartbeats. An arrow whizzed through the passage, missing Alan-a-Dale by a hair's breadth and leaving a clack as it bounced off the stone and fell to the ground. Another shot past Robin's shoulder struck across and almost sent John stumbling out of reflex.

Robin's pulse raced - but at such moments, he felt as alive as he rarely did otherwise.Robin remembered precisely the path that had been described to him. Every bend. Finally, they reached a massive door with wide iron fittings. Robin reached for it and pushed.

With a metallic groan of the hinges, the door gave way, and the corners of Robin's mouth lifted in relief. They fled to the other side, and just as they turned, another arrow shot in their direction. The projectile whizzed towards them, and John yelled out in pain as the point dug deep into his shoulder. He staggered back a step, but then he screwed up his face and reached for the wooden shaft to break it off.

"The door! Quickly!" Robin didn't have to give the order twice. John pushed against the gate and locked it before the first soldier ran into it. The force made the wood tremble. It sounded like a mighty drumbeat. Then John threw himself with all his strength against the gate and roared. Alan-a-Dale also pressed himself against the wood. From the other side, punches and bodies thumped against it, and again and again, the door shook.

"Just a moment more! Hold them off just a moment longer!" shouted Robin against the din of voices, groans, and groans of exertion as he reached under his doublet - and pulled out a jingling bunch of keys. Robin let the keys slip through his fingers, twice inserting one into the iron lock, but it did not move. Under the jerking of the damned door, it was anything but easy to turn the key at the appropriate moment - let alone find the right one.

But then the right one finally slid into the lock, and the door was locked with a soft >>clack<<.

On the other side, the Sheriff roared against the moans and groans of his inept men. The bandits were only an arm's length away, and only that damned door stood between them! These criminals had an appointment with the hangman, and the Sheriff had no intention of letting them miss it. Suddenly, however, he heard the click and the gaze of bright eyes latched onto the door lock like a hawk on its prey.

"No. Impossible," he muttered as his hand slid to his hips and under his cloak in a mechanical movement. At that moment, the Sheriff of Nottingham remembered a beggar clinging to him and his dirty fingers tampering with his clothes...

Time seemed to slow down for the Sheriff and drag on like a treacle. Sounds faded, and only one remained: the click of the damned lock and the iron bolt shifting, scraping several times.His fingers grasped at nothing. His keys were gone. That filthy bastard had dared to steal from HIM, the Sheriff himself!

The blow of this realization tore down a dam of self-control, and the Sheriff's face turned red with anger as his rage-filled scream echoed through the corridors of the fortress.

"Hoooood!"