The other Guy
Carefully he raised his head, then lowered it again, sharp pain sending a bolt of lightning through his throbbing temple. He groaned and tried again to open his eyes. The man blinked several times and his gaze finally focused on some men standing around him, poorly dressed peasants. He struggled to get up, but sank back; his arms sagged when he tried to lean on them, and scornful laughter was the reaction to his futile attempts. One of the men drew a dagger and crouched down, holding it at the man's throat.
"Now, Sir Guy, how does this dagger feel at your skin? After all, a dagger is your favourite weapon. Or should I say, was? I should cut you off like the pig you are right now and let you bleed to death."
The man blinked again, but didn't say anything. Sir Guy? This was his name? He didn't remember, he didn't remember anything. Who was he? Who were these people?i
"What! Not even a cocky remark? It seems you are a coward after all. Cat got your tongue? It was you who said 'Loosen your tongues or lose your tongues', wasn't it? Maybe it's time you lose your tongue, too," the peasant sneered.
"Yes, let's cut out his tongue…Let's stake him out and let him be eaten by the wild dogs… Tie him behind a horse and drag him to death…I'll cut his limbs off slowly." the men shouted.
"Stop it!" a voice cut in and another man stepped forward. "The Sheriff knows that Gisborne has ridden here. If he dies or disappears here, the Sheriff will burn down our village and kill everyone. We'll take Gisborne to Robin Hood."
"Walter is right. We have to think of our wives and children. We'd all be killed. There is a place in the woods where I can leave a message for Robin and he'll contact us."
The murmurs subsided and the others nodded. Taking Gisborne to Robin Hood would solve their problems. Robin seemed to hate Gisborne even more than he hated the Sheriff. Gisborne had been captured and there had been rumours about a fight between Robin and Gisborne, but in the end the Sheriff's henchman had been traded in for Djak.
One of the peasants hurried toward the woods. A certain arrangement of stones in the woods would cause Robin to come to the village. The injured, now unconscious man was drawn into a hut, a cloth placed on his gashing shoulder wound to diminish the blood loss, and a lad guarding him, although he would not be able to escape in the near future.
The man awakened and opened his eyes, and then moved carefully and sat up. He blinked and his gaze focused on the face of a young man who looked him over with hateful eyes. He was surrounded by other men with bows. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Sir Guy, and this time, there will be no need for a trade. – Bind and blindfold him and bring him to the camp," he added, addressing his men. "He seems weak enough now, but you never know how fast he'll recover."
Guy was pulled to his feet roughly, blindfolded, bound and attached to a rope, then staggered behind the men, the rope fastened to a horse. Several times he lost his balance and was pulled over the ground, the laughter of the men in his ears. Then he was sat down and the blindfold was removed. Still, he had not said a word.
"Tend to his wounds, Much", the young man, obviously the leader, said. "I'll talk to him later."
Much looked bewildered. "Tend to his wounds? Me? Who is tending to my wounds when I am injured? I have always to do it myself. Besides why bother. The last time you wanted to i talk /i to him he ended up half dead," Much protested, then sighed. "Yes, master."
He took a knife and cut off the sleeve of the shredded leather shirt, not caring, whether he hurt Guy furthermore. The shirt underneath was bloodstained. Much washed the gashing wounds on Guy's shoulder and applied several herbs and a patch of gaze, then turned away, spitting in the grass.
Robin looked at Guy. They had had several encounters and ended as deadly enemies, not because of Locksley, but because of something else. This ruthless bastard had one weakness, and this was Marian. Otherwise, Robin would have sworn that he had no heart and could kill a man like he would kill a fly. But this was not why Robin hated him with all his heart. Not long ago, he had found out that Guy of Gisborne had tried to kill King Richard in the Holy Land.
The man was evil and had to be killed. If he were not wounded, Robin would have killed him immediately. He'd never felt like this. And then – Marian; she'd not believed him, had thought him jealous; and Robin admitted to himself, he was. He had seen the way Marian had looked at Guy, despite herself. He had stirred her. Raging fury rose in him and he scrutinized Guy with disgust, then narrowed his eyes. Something was different, the man was different.
Even captured and wounded, Gisborne had always found snide remarks for him, had tried to ridicule him. Guy looked up directly in his face, and then Robin knew what was different – his eyes. The blue eyes, which were usually piercing and hateful, didn't show the usual overbearing attitude, they were blank. Robin's eyes narrowed and he frowned.
Guy swallowed and moistened his lips. The men's leader sat beside the camp fire, seemingly relaxed, but Guy was not fooled. He was young, very young, from his outer appearance carefree and a man who liked to laugh. A dagger stuck in the man's boots, which could be removed in an instant. Anyway, in his present condition, Guy was not able to escape least to fight. What should he say? Of course, nobody would believe him, if he told them that he didn't even know who this Sir Guy was. But so what? Should he sit there, mute until they slaughtered him? He had seen the hate in the eyes of the men, had heard their remarks. He would surely die, but he wanted to know why and he would not die a worm but a man. "You addressed me as Sir Guy, and so I suppose I am he. I don't remember. Who are you?"
Robin sat there, stunned. Guy claimed not to remember who he was? Robin detested this man, but he knew Guy was no coward. He would not look for an easy way out, wouldn't he? "If I give you your sword, will you fight for your honour and your life?"
Guy nodded slowly. "I will, but before, I need to know whether there is honour worth fighting for. Who are you, and who am I?"
Robin drew a deep breath. He had been right; Guy didn't know who he was. The Guy of Gisborne he knew would never have spoken like this. "I'm Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntingdon, called Robin Hood." Guy's eyes remained blank. "And you are Guy of Gisborne, the sheriff's henchman, a man with ambition, but without money and without mercy. You kill and torture people at a whim and you will stop at nothing seeing me dead. And I will kill you for betraying our king. Does this answer your question?"
