Something was different today. Usually, it was enough for the soldiers to take up arms - drawing them was unnecessary. The gesture alone was normally enough because people knew they had nothing to oppose the guards. On the other hand, it was not in Guy's interest to harm the people - as long as they fulfilled their duties and respected the laws the Crown gave.

"Sheriff, show some heart! Our son died in the war; all we have left is the little farm!" the older woman also interjected, looking from pleading eyes to the representative of the law.

The tension in the air became even more palpable when the youngest Hughes, a little boy named Samuel, could no longer bear the burden of his family's suffering. Full of righteous anger, he stepped out from behind his mother, his voice trembling with defiance. "You can't take everything from us!" he cried. "We have nothing left! This is theft! Get out of here!" barked the boy, who could barely reach the men's waists.

For a moment, Guy smiled at the boy and felt something like respect for his courage. He could have been a great soldier if he had fought passionately for the right cause. But the sympathy died when the lad suddenly pulled a small knife from his boot.

"Samuel!" his mother drew in her breath, startled, as her son held out the blade to the Sheriff.

"Put that down, boy. Now," Guy said in a sharp tone. With an almost snide expression, his father reached for the hilt of his sword, and Guy could see the fear growing in the lad's eyes. Then something shot through the air and violently crashed against the Sheriff's head.

He staggered back and, for a second bewilderment, ruled the representatives of the Crown as well as among the servants. Especially in the face of the Sheriff, at whose feet a stone rolled to the ground. The icy eyes stared at the small, sharp-edged chunk on which his blood clung. Moisture soaked his skin, ran down his forehead, and his fingers slid under the black hair streaked with grey. He looked in disbelief at his glove, stained by the red of his blood!

"Lean up!" a man shouted from the crowd.

With that, the powder keg of discontent building up for too long exploded.

"Go away!" A second stone flew, then a third; a woman even threw her basket at one of the soldiers in frustration, and the peasants grabbed their pitchforks and hoes. People rushed forward, young girls screamed and fled as the square turned into a battlefield.

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. When he raised his eyes this time, the fire of anger burned so hotly in them that blades could be forged with it. A riot! He was ready to strike back with all his might. He straightened and gloated, chin high as if the Lord God Himself was rising above this scene.

"Guy," was all he said, and he nodded once. But no more words were needed.

"Guards!" Guy immediately took command, and now swords whirred, drawn from scabbards. Powerful soldiers against peasants - the battle was decided before it broke loose. Beside him, the soldiers raised their shields. The setting sun flashed on the crown regent's lion crest as his men met the angry people. The soldiers of the lion ready to pounce on the lambs.

A man charged forward. Guy dived under the curving blow with a ragged hoe. Without hesitation, Guy slammed his fist straight into the attacking peasant's face. He could hear the nose crack under the force, and the man cried out and staggered back. Immediately, Guy followed up, stepping forward and forcing his opponent onto his back.

He groaned and gasped. Blood smeared his face, and now the anger in his eyes had given way to sheer agony. Guy dragged the man up by the scruff of his neck, lashed out, and gave him such a hard blow to the head that he sank back into the dirt, defenseless.

Then, the boy appeared beside him all at once and thrust at him with the knife. Guy felt the blade strike his hip - but was stopped there by the chain mail he was wearing. Startled, the fellow's eyes snapped open. Guy lunged and had the grace to strike with the back of his hand. The boy's head flew to the side under the force of the blow, and he staggered. Before the boy could fall or flee, Guy grabbed hold. His fingers closed ironically around the boy's neck, who was now sobbing pitifully.

The soldiers quickly gained the upper hand. Men fell to the ground, and boots kicked until the peasants were spitting blood. Ribs cracked, noses broke, and the agitators soon cowered on the ground. The fire of resistance had been quickly smothered.

"Enough!" the Sheriff roared like a lion over the din of battle.

Moans and whimpers had replaced the battle cries.

Guy's fingers held the boy tight, though he tried to free himself by squirming and grabbing at Guy's arm. In a few long strides, the Sheriff had arrived at his son and the lad. His gaze settled on the lad, whose dirty brown hair fell in his face. Yet even now, rebelliousness flashed in his fawn eyes.

Guy felt a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and all at once, he recognized an old, dear friend in the boy's angry eyes. He had been like that long ago: rebellious, stubborn, and full of good intentions. But the world swallowed such people whole. And today, Robin of Locksley was an outlaw.

'He'll make an example of you, boy,' Guy thought, even before his father opened his mouth.

"The boy has risen and rebelled against the crown!" the Sheriff announced loudly and with cold finality. "This is the seed of rebellion which seeks to tear our country asunder. His Royal Highness and the Crown of England will not tolerate such treasonable behavior. He shall be imprisoned and brought before the executioner in three days." His gaze slid to Guy. "Arrest him, Captain. And from this point forward, anyone who dares to rise against the Crown." At that, he let his gaze wander over the maltreated peasants.

"No, please!" Samuel's mother, eyes red with tears and filled with horror, fell to her knees again, her voice breaking with a mother's sheer desperation. "Please, Sheriff, have mercy on my boy," she pleaded, "He doesn't know what he did! He's just a child! Please! Spare him, I beg you!"

But the Sheriff, unmoved by her pain, only regarded her with icy detachment. "The law is the law," he replied. His voice was devoid of compassion. "Respect and loyalty to the Crown is our highest good. The law distinguishes us from wild animals. The law gives us order and makes us human. Mercy is received only by those whom the Crown itself pardons. This is not in my power!"

The Hughes family, deprived of their home, livelihood, and youngest family member, stood slumped together. The young mother sobbed heartbreakingly, trembled, and held her pregnant belly convulsively.

The soldiers, like wild dogs who had now tasted blood and been irritated, showed astonishing brutality and cruelty in the subsequent seizure and tax collection from the other villagers. They ransacked cupboards and boxes, slashed pillows and mattresses, and broke into every nook and cranny of the houses. They took coins, chickens and livestock, and anything remotely valuable - no matter how much the peasants pleaded and cried.

As Guy mounted his steed, he felt the cold breeze of the gathering night like an icy shiver of a dark foreboding on the back of his neck. This was just one spark of many that fell into the dry straw. And it was getting worse every day.

'How long is this going to last?' Guy asked himself, with an unwelcome bitterness on his tongue. Doing the right thing was not always easy. He knew that, of course. But he found it increasingly difficult to force the 'right thing' out of the citizens. Why couldn't the people understand that this was for their protection? That the money only kept the French and other enemies off their backs?

Guy shook his head and turned the horse. Away from the sight of the village, plunged into despair.

With heavy hearts, the villagers watched Samuel being led away, his hands bound but his will unbroken. He tugged and twisted in the irons, but the shadow of the Sheriff's authority hovered over Eldridge, leaving a bitter taste of injustice.