Memory Lane (Tag Will)

[Luke Scarlett]

Even though he had returned to Nottingham so far Luke had avoided setting foot in Locksley village. It had been his home for fifteen years and if he closed his eyes he could picture the place perfectly, how it had been before. When Robin and his family were the nobles, Marian’s father was still the Sheriff and his mother was still alive. Luke set his lips in a grim line, swallowing hard to try and get rid of the lump forming in his throat, he wouldn’t think about it. Reminiscing about the good old days was for the old and the infirm, doing it just helped to remind him how bad things were now.

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, hunching his shoulders as he made his way reluctantly towards the one place he didn’t really want to be. He didn’t want to see how much Locksley had changed, he didn’t want to see Gisborne’s men placed about the village, didn’t want to see how badly the poverty enforced by the Sheriff Vaysey had torn his childhood home apart. He couldn’t avoid it any more, today of all days, Will would be there and he saw his older brother little enough as it was. It would be cowardly of him to back out when Will was risking even more by leaving the forest.

Luke gave a small smile and stepped into the village square, his eyes down turned to avoid looking at anyone or anything to closely. He stopped a couple of buildings away from their old home, leaning against a fence that enclosed six rather scrawny looking chickens. They squawked, disgruntled, as the dilapidated wooden posts creaked under his weight and he hastily stood up straighter, not wanting to draw attention to himself. It was bad enough that they were both going to be here on such an obvious date, they were just banking on the fact that Gisborne and Vaysey hadn’t kept track and just didn’t care.

Today was the anniversary of Jane Scarlett’s death.

[simone]

The summer sky did not trouble the village of Locksley as another morning began. Peasants marched from their homes toward their daily labours; aprons bound about the waists of wide house women, men dressed for either the forge or the field.

Effortlessly inconspicuous whilst dressed in simple peasant’s ware, Will did not disturb the ancient routine, rather sidling past hurrying villagers as he ambled through the village. Locksley Church could be seen as he walked; its ornamental eaves a shadow beneath the steeply pitched rooves. A neat yard could be seen behind the chapel, wooden crosses driven deep within the earth to be decorated with spring flowers. The grief of the occasion began to weigh more heavily upon Will, for this would be where he and his brother commemorated the death of their mother.

Will hurriedly passed the familiar homes that flanked the village roads, glumly wondering if the families he had once know could afford to reside in Locksley. Children did not frolic in the roads anymore, but hurried behind their dutiful parents with hands stowed deeply in shackling pockets. They could engage in only the most clandestine of youthful unruliness, their misbehaviours punished by the lord of Locksley. Will despised the ruthless authority with which Guy of Gisborne governed his estate. The lord had brought nothing but grief upon the peasants, demanding nothing of them but taxes and discipline.

Luke leant against the groaning fence of a small, chicken coop, his hands shoved deep within his trouser pockets. Will knew that his brother did not enjoy visiting the village in which they had once lived and so resolved to make the anniversary a swift affair. He approached Luke silently, before offering a friendly grasp of the shoulder, “Luke – how are you?”

[Luke Scarlett]

Despite looking rather gangly, especially in comparison to Luke's more stocky build, Will had always possessed a grace that his younger sibling could never hope to achieve. This was why Luke didn't notice him crossing the square until he was only a few feet away. The younger Scarlett's expression shifted from grim to pleased in a matter of moments. When he'd come back to Nottingham Luke expected to see more of his older brother, but a combination of the injury Will had suffered and the dangerous job he carried out meant they hardly got to see each other at all. That was all going to change though, Luke had set his mind on seeing Will more with the stubborn determination that all Scarletts seemed to inherit.

He grinned at Will, smile only slightly hampered by the grave mood that had been hanging over him all day. The feel of Will's hand on his shoulder was comforting, his grip sure and steady as Luke had come to expect and rely on from his brother. Ignoring the fact that he was a little too old for hugs he pulled into a quick embrace, arms squeezing tightly before he let go. Usually Luke spent all his time trying to convince Will he was grown up and so tried to avoid any childish affection, but the circumstances of the day were such that he felt the normal rules didn't apply.

"Will!" His good mood dissipated slightly as his brother asked after him, smile fading until there was almost no trace that it had ever been there. "I'm holding up." He answered, not wanting to worry Will, but not quite able to bring himself to say everything was fine and dandy. "And you? How is your hand?" Luke knew it was only down to Djaq's advanced medical knowledge that his older brother even still had the use of his hand. Being run through by a dagger was not an injury that anybody recovered from swiftly, but he was confident that Will wouldn't lose the ability to continue with carpentry.

[simone]

Will heaved a gentle chuckle from beneath the weight of his grief whilst petting Luke warmly on the shoulder. His brother had brought him into a brief embrace and all but consoled the guilt he had felt the past few weeks for not visiting. Will had intended to spend much more time with his brother since the passing of their father, but a raise in taxes had occupied all his promises. The poor of Nottingham were beginning to rely more heavily upon his diligence as an outlaw and he would not disappoint them. He had instead disappointed his brother and for that, he was thoroughly ashamed.

“I’m fine,” said Will, “and my hand is still healing. But, Djaq has done a wonderful job.”

Stretching the aching palm beneath the sleeve of his tunic, Will then brought back the fabric to show Luke the impressive, silver scar that arced across his skin. His recovery had been slow, confined to camp for many weeks to keep from the temptation of straining the healing wounds. And though he had once been worried that Djaq could not repair the fractured bones, he was now sure that his hand would move properly within a few days.

Will turned his head slightly to locate the village guard and assure himself that he and Luke were not being watched. Each man dressed in the bold black and yellow livery was loitering idly by their station, almost pleading for trouble to stir amongst the hurrying peasants. Locksley Church seemed a constant colour in his sight, beckoning him forth to grieve as he watched the guards. Will did not want to hurry the fleeting moments he would spend with Luke today, for circumstance might be unkind to him and not allow another for many weeks. But, he had promised to make this day a swift affair on behalf of his brother and concluded that was best succeeded by beginning toward the cemetery. He gestured for Luke to begin walking toward the church with an apologetic sigh, “I suppose we should go.”