It was yet another gloomy afternoon on Tuesday, August 30th 1194 when a troubled Sir Guy of Gisborne was riding through the outskirts of Nottingham toward the castle to see his cousin – his master – the Sheriff of Nottingham to be sure.
He shook his head as he guided his mare. He knew his cousin would be most displeased with him. He and his men were sent on a mission to get money to the Barons. Gisborne just happened to be looking around when they had stopped a moment having decided to cut through a part of the forest, just after he admonished Friar Tuck for his cursed, drunken singing! And then he saw them – the two illiterate and dyslexic fools who were members of Robin of Locksley's rabble. He raised his sword, ordered half of the men to follow him and the other half to remain behind with the wagon. Inside the wagon was a fortune in gold. The Sheriff's gold. The Sheriff was using the money to gain allegiance from the Barons to join him in the war against Locksley. In Gisborne's quest to find Locksley that afternoon in the forest, when he came back he found he would have more to answer to for the Sheriff besides losing the Sherwood Bandit yet again. When he returned to the small clearing, the only thing left was a lone helm lying on the ground as if to taunt him. His men. The wagon. The gold – missing!
Gisborne came in through the portcullis at Nottingham Castle. He shook his head. He would need to tell the Sheriff of this – but how? Would he… hang for this? No, he told himself. Surely George would never – Ah. He might. He swallowed. It was true. His cousin had been fueled by greed and power of late, and a blind fury over the latest shenanigans that Locksley was up to. Gisborne knew it as sure as he was seated atop his chestnut coloured mare. He will kill me. Probably throw me in the dungeon and hang me. No… this isn't happening. I am but thirty years old! I haven't even had the opportunity to kiss Gisla yet! Gisla was his lady whom he had only began courting recently. He recalled a conversation with his cousin from Sunday morning just after mass.
"Where were you last night?" The Sheriff demanded in hushed tones while they were dutifully meeting with some noblemen in the reception hall of the cathedral. "A nobleman was robbed by Hood en route to Nottingham yesterday. Bloody insect is out of control! I needed you to go after the bastard. Where were you?" He asked again.
"Forgive me, sire. I was with... my lady." Guy explained.
"Bah! What lady? The only thing you ever do is bring whorish waifs to your bed - then you never see them again!" The Sheriff rolled his eyes.
"Aye." Guy sighed. As if the Sheriff was any different? But he couldn't express his thought. "Yes, cousin. I used to do that. This lady is different. She is my true heart. Guy said.
The Sheriff's eyebrow shot north as he narrowed his eyes upon his cousin's dark, steely eyes. He began to chortle.
"I am serious." Gisborne added, never blinking.
"Might I know the name of this maiden who is stealing you from your duties then?" The Sheriff asked as he folded his arms.
"She is Gisla, sire. Lady Gisla Greenley of Clun." Guy smiled.
"Bah! Nothing good ever comes from Clun!" The Sheriff snorted. He rubbed his chin as he mused. "Hmm. Gisla. How peculiar indeed." He looked to his cousin intently. "What are the odds you would fall for a lady with a curious moniker like that?" The Sheriff grinned. "I best not be calling you 'Gis' when she is around then." A beat. "She may get confused!" The Sheriff laughed.
"Right." Guy sighed as he rolled his eyes.
The Sheriff was too busy amusing himself to note his expression then. But when Guy walked through the threshold of the warm and blazing armoury in the sublevel of the north wing of the castle, he knew his master would be anything but amused by his shortcomings now. This afternoon's fiasco in Sherwood was not the first time that Locksley managed to slip through his fingers. He looked downcast as he strolled in slowly. He felt fear for the first time. Not of dying, because he knew he would for this – but of never seeing his beloved Lady Gisla. Of never kissing her. Of never holding her close to him. He knew it already – he loved her. One day he had hoped to make her his bride – despite the jokes about the alliteration in her name that the Sheriff would no doubt have plenty of fun amusing himself with!
Gisborne walked in behind the Sheriff and moved toward an iron gate that was four feet high where an assortment of new swords were assembled and leaned up against for the Sheriff's inspection. The Sheriff was facing it as Guy came toward him. He held one in his right hand and was waving it about to test the feel of it in his hand when Gisborne arrived. Guy moved in front of him and stood before him. He looked downcast then slowly up to the Sheriff.
"We were… ambushed, cousin." He said with his left hand resting on his hip.
The Sheriff moved toward him, straightened the blade, then brandished it directly in his Lieutenant's face. Guy closed his eyes in reaction to it then looked up to his cousin. The Sheriff rested the tip of the blade on top of the iron gate and leaned in uncomfortably close to Guy.
"Spanish steel. Much stronger than our native blades." He taunted with a deviant grin. Nottingham cleared his throat. "Any losses?" He asked as he put the sword back in its place.
"Some." Guy answered as the Sheriff moved away from him down the line to inspect the other swords. Guy stepped forward to rub his eyes. "The truth." He began as he kicked at the ground in frustration. "All of them!" He sighed. He moved back to the display of swords, resting his right hand upon the top of the iron gate, and waited for the wrath to begin.
The Sheriff moved slowly away from him, his back to him, moving to continue with inspection of the work of his blacksmith and swordsmiths. "And the gold?" The Sheriff inquired calmly, his eyebrow quirked.
"Taken." Guy said simply.
"Robin Hood?" The Sheriff asked calmly again, continuing with his task.
"They were woodsmen, cousin." Guy answered.
The Sheriff whirled around to face him and regarded him with his left eyebrow raised suspiciously. He sighed. "Robin Hood!" The Sheriff accurately surmised.
Indeed the man was as sharp as an arrowhead. Gisborne had no choice but to admit the truth and accept the wrath of his master. He looked up to the Sheriff knowingly. "I tried." He muttered. "I tried." He repeated once more with a sigh. He shook his head, his eyes downcast as the Sheriff came toward him. Guy caught the expression on the face of his cousin. What? Why does he look so... forgiving?
"Cousin, we must be strong." The Sheriff said as he went to Guy and embraced him. "We cannot allow an outlaw to make fools of us." He continued as he turned to him and placed his left arm around Guy and led him slowly away from where they stood. Guy rubbed his eyes briefly with his gauntlet covered left hand. Unbeknownst to Guy, the Sheriff was unobtrusively reaching to his right for one of the brand new swords that featured a Spanish steel blade. "And I cannot allow my Lieutenant to fail me!" The Sheriff snarled as he stood before Gisborne with a malevolent look on his face, and before Guy knew it - the Sheriff had ran him through.
The pain was hot. Seering. Guy lost his breath in an instant. The Sheriff pushed him backward and Guy fell back to the floor. Nottingham walked toward him, and stood over him grinning and continuing to taunt him. "Well at least I didn't use a spoon!" He all but laughed. He looked to his swordsmiths gathered on his left – who stood there astonished to witness the Sheriff perform the ultimate act of betrayal – murdering his cousin. Gisborne was the only family Nottingham had. "That's good steel!" The Sheriff remarked. He tossed the sword to the ground to the left of Guy's mortally wounded body and exited the chamber swiftly without looking back once.
Guy lay there feeling his life draining out of him. He began to shiver. He was very cold. So very cold. He saw so many images pass through his mind. Every happy memory – even painful ones were quickly flashing through his mind as he began to slip away. "Gisla…" He murmured softly with his eyes closed.
"Well don't just stand there!" Stephanus, the tall middle aged blacksmith spoke suddenly to the men. "We cannot let Sir Gisborne die here! We must move him!"
"Where?" One of the swordsmiths asked.
"To my chamber – at once! It's just next door. His room is too far away and we haven't much time!"
One of the taller swordsmiths who was very strong indeed went to Guy, bent down and carefully lifted him and slung him over his shoulder. Guy was too weak to protest. He couldn't speak even if he wanted to. He wished these men would just leave him alone instead of fussing over him. But he couldn't begin to say the words.
One of the Sheriff's sentry – a very tall, strapping, blond haired, blue eyed man stood in the threshold, staring at the scene. He managed to conceal the satisfied smile upon his face.
In only moments they were inside of the blacksmith's chamber. The swordsmith carried the nearly lifeless body of Sir Guy of Gisborne to the bed. Stephanus followed behind. He stopped and turned to the same blond haired sentry who followed in case he was needed. "Summon the Sheriff's physician – and don't let our master know it! Do it!" Stephanus demanded.
"Of course." The sentry said quietly and calmly, and turned to carry out the task.
Guy opened his eyes and looked up to Stephanus and the burly swordsmith who stood on either side of his deathbed looking down upon him. He struggled very hard but he managed to convey the words he was desperate to get past his lips.
"Leave me. I command you one final time in one final act as Lieutenant to the Sheriff of Nottingham. You will leave me to die alone. I must. It is my destiny." Guy stated as firmly as he could.
"Sir Guy –" Stephanus began.
"Leave me!" Guy managed to speak more forcefully this time.
The men nodded. "Godspeed, Sir Gisborne." Stephanus said quietly. Then the men took their leave.
He lay there and closed his eyes. His childhood flashed in his mind – the bits he chose to remember, his times in battle, the day he was appointed to be the Sheriff's Lieutenant, and every brief moment he had shared with his Lady Gisla. He lay supine on the bed, still dressed in his noble finery, his long brown hair laying damp on his shoulders and falling to the pillow. He was tall, almost as tall as his cousin, but broader and more muscular. The picture of health in life. An excellent horseman, swordsman, a force to be reckoned with – usually. He was very cold now and his breath began to labour. He knew his troubles would be over soon.
The tall blond haired sentry returned. The guard smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. He had returned but not with the physician. He advanced slowly toward the bed, never taking his eyes from the Lieutenant's face.
He never bothered to summon the physician. The sentry grinned. There would be no need for a medicus. He walked toward the bed and put his hand gently on Guy's left shoulder.
Guy felt it. He opened his eyes weakly.
"Don't speak." The sentry said as he removed his helm and shook out his long, golden blond hair. He looked like a Viking and stared unblinking into Gisborne's eyes.
Guy was drawn in like a magnet to his voice and the weight of his stare. As if… under the influence of a powerful spell. He wondered if the witch was in the room?
"You have only moments, friend. You better listen to me. You have two choices. You can die –"
Guy shook his head. "Leave me." He muttered weakly. "I am dying." He choked breathlessly.
The sentry sat on the bed beside him, unfazed. "Or… you can have eternal life." The sentry said as he continued to pierce into Guy's eyes with his.
Guy looked at him strangely. He was sure he was delusional. Is this man an angel? For... me?
"I can make you more formidable and fearsome than any man in England. One of only few in the world, friend. Take it, Gisborne." A beat. "Choose life." The curious man said in a soothing, intoxicating voice that lured the dying swordsman into his spell.
Guy looked at him in awe but didn't speak. He managed to nod briefly. What did it matter? He was going to die anyway. The man smiled and then suddenly his incisors shot out from his gums like the fangs of a beast. He opened his mouth and leaned down. Guy's jaw flew agape in horror as the Sheriff's sentry – a one hundred and seventeen year old vampire by the name of Eric who had come to England from Scandinavia – took a bite out of the left side of Gisborne's neck.
There was horrible, sharp, indescribable – white hot pain. A gasp escaped his lips as he looked to the ceiling with his jaw agape, far too weak to fight.
The blond guard looked at him, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. "It'll feel better soon, Gisborne. Trust me. This is your only chance." The vampire said as he moved to Gisborne's neck, draining him, proceeding to turn the Sheriff's former number one henchman – into a vampire like him.
And Gisborne had no idea what was happening to him.
Guy tried to resist and fight as much as he could summon his will. The vampire looked down upon him, a satisfied grin on his face as the blood of Sir Guy of Gisborne dripped down from his perfect chin.
"Man up, my soon to be vampire offspring! Soon to be newborn of the vampire race! You shall rather enjoy this. As it is for me, friend - you shall answer to no man after this!" Eric Northman snarled with a grin as he continued with his task.
A/N: Don't ask me how I came up with this idea. I still don't know to be honest. But I do believe this will work. Eric Northman was made a vampire in 1077. He did end up in England eventually, we just don't know when - when he turned his other offspring, Pam in the nineteenth century. So... I decided to have everyone's favourite vampire from True Blood drop in on Nottingham during his centuries of travels. Why not? What will Gisborne do with his new found power? Use it to taunt the Sheriff? Or perhaps.... use it to assist the Sheriff in his attempts to nail Locksley? Or...will he use it to usurp his cousin's power? Well stay tuned, kids - the party is just beginning. There will be plenty of appearances by the rest of the players in the legend in Robin Hood. All of them to be sure. And there will be plenty of Vampire Eric Northman. You can count on that! Thank you for reading. I do hope the readers, and fans of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and the brilliant series True Blood will enjoy this ditty. Since Vampirism is the new part of pulp culture, and people still have a fascination with the legend of Robin Hood, I plan to have fun with this. The characters as portrayed here - except for Stephanus the blacksmith, are not mine. The characters from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves belong to Pen Densham and John Watson who wrote the screenplay. Eric Northman belongs to Charlaine Harris who wrote the Sookie Stackhouse novels which the series is based on. Thanks for reading. ~Donna~