I wrote the bits below for a few friends about a month back, and am now posting here despite certain reservations. These revolve around the AU plot that I mapped out in my only long RH story, the Darkest Hour, but may be confusing and tricky to explain to someone who has not read DH and (for the second snippet) the shorter story I wrote, Second Thoughts. However, if you read and liked those, read on – then these two might make sense.
There were a couple of sequences I had in mind for the Darkest Hour that I never wrote at the time, but ended up coming back to in mid-August when prompted in a LJ discussion. The first one picks up right after Chapter 11 and immediately precedes the siege. The second one happens after the siege between Chapters 17 and 18… except that I had to make matters confusing there and bring up the Second Thoughts twist of Marian being alive. The reference only comes up for a 3-4 paragraph passage, but contradicts the DH plot, so that the sequence sort of becomes a prequel to Second Thoughts instead. By way of explanation, I was too tempted for my own good by the wish to give Guy a chance to characterize Marian to another person not as someone he killed (I suspect he would shut up, grind his teeth, or rub his nose, for a while, and start bashing himself again), but as a living woman he had to give up (so that he was able to come up with a two-paragraph character sketch). I know it is a mess. But with these two being the only remaining ideas I had re: RH plots, and having sat on these for a while, I figured I'd 'clean out the closet' and the board would probably survive if I posted – and it might even entertain some of you. So here goes.
1. A day in the forest ('chapter 11½')
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Neither one had wanted to break away, but eventually they were too breathless to continue. Meg opened her eyes and looked at Guy, their faces inches away from each other, before sinking back against him. He drew an arm around her and with his free hand, took one of hers, holding it to his chest. Neither one spoke for a while, as if afraid to break the spell. Meg wished that the moment would never end. Guy half wished he would die that very instant while he was so impossibly happy, and half prayed that he would live long enough to grow old and die in her arms. Then she stirred against him, and he cocked his head to look at her.
- Meg?
- What? – her voice sounded dreamy.
- Where did you go today when you left the camp?
She chuckled.
- I did not go far. I had no intention of getting lost, - she smiled as she looked up at him, – but we were both upset and we both needed time to think. At least I did.
- You are right, we both did, - he kissed the top of her head. – So where were you?
- I went about a quarter of a mile toward the Nottingham road, until I saw a fallen tree and sat there. And then I thought of maybe going to the river…
- Meg!
- What?
- The river is at least two miles away, what were you thinking?
- You are talking as if it were twenty miles, Guy.
- If you went there you would have got lost!
She laughed softly at his belated concern.
- You do realise that I am back now, do you? In any case, I had barely walked a hundred yards when Robin saw me and we strolled around for a bit and then came back. What were you doing all this time?
- Not much, really. Sitting.
- Sitting?
- Right here.
Her fingers slipped out of his grasp to wrap themselves around his hand.
- I did not mean to… punish you, you know. I was just… upset.
- I know. And you did the right thing. – He had needed that time too, to think, to admit the truth he had long been turning away from. – Especially by coming back. – Guy's mischievous smile lit up his handsome features.
- Oi guys, - Allan's cheery, deliberately loud voice interrupted their murmured conversation, - are you going to have supper or are you getting all your nourishment from kissing?
- Will be right there, Allan, - Guy said over his shoulder but made no move to get up.
- 'Cos if you're not, we'll finish it off and you'll have to hunt to get food, - Allan grinned before returning to the fire and to the gang seated around it.
- Be right there, I said, - this time Guy's voice carried a note of urgency, and when Meg looked at his suddenly anxious face as he helped her up, she could not help laughing once she had realised the reason.
- You do know that he was joking about hunting, don't you, Guy? – she asked, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
- With these people, - Guy sighed, - you never know.
They approached the others hand in hand, and even though Robin was the only one fully aware of where things stood, their beaming faces were impossible to ignore. As usual, Allan was the first to comment.
- Well, what do you know, here are the lovebirds at last!
- Allan… - Guy made his best attempt to summon the usual menace to his voice.
- I did not say anything, - Allan retorted mock-defensively. – Well, not anything that ain't leapin' to the eye, anyway.
- Meg and I are betrothed, if you have to know, - Guy made a final attempt at silencing his former lieutenant, - so you can stop your jests.
The announcement was met with silence, but the glances that accompanied it were neither hostile nor surprised – with the exception of Kate, who pursed her lips and stared at the fire. Yet Guy was surprised when Robin was the next to speak.
- Congratulations, then. Here's to hoping that you two live happily together. – he drained his ale and looked around, inviting the other men to follow his example.
And, to Guy's great surprise, they did.
Then again, Meg's radiant smile had made it impossible to do otherwise.
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Meg sat just outside the doorway of the shack she shared with Kate, gazing up at the starlit sky beyond the treetops. She had always liked looking at the stars, but had never seen them so late at night, and from the middle of the forest – they seemed bigger and brighter now that the sky was at its deepest midnight blue and there was darkness all around. She almost wanted to go to Tuck's hut and call out for Guy, who was sharing it, to join her – but stopped herself. Guy was still tired from their York adventure, and even though he had done his best not to show it, his face was beginning to look haggard as they sat around the fire after supper. Yet his eyes lit up again when he bade her good night with a gentle kiss on the cheek and wished her sweet dreams. But as much as she might be willing to humour Guy, dreams, sweet or otherwise, were about the furthest thing from her mind. And as the memories of the day played out before her mind's eye, Meg realised that she was no longer interested in stargazing that night.
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She woke up late and had to shield her eyes from the bright sunlight when she walked out of the shack. Unlike the day before when the camp had been almost deserted for most of the morning, this time there was a buzz of activity. Robin and Allan were the only ones gone, hunting for the daily supper, but the others were around, going about the minor fixing and cleaning chores that kept the camp habitable. Much and John greeted Meg with friendly smiles and Tuck gave her a blessing, but Kate barely acknowledged her with a curt nod.
- Have any of you seen Guy? – Meg asked after quickly breaking her fast on a piece of bread and an apple. She had not seen him since she woke up, but thought that perhaps he was still asleep as well.
At that moment, Kate's patience seemed to have snapped.
- How can you care about that man?! – she turned to Meg with sudden blind anger in her face. – How can you want to marry him when he is a murderer?
- Robin has killed as well, - Meg answered calmly, - and yet both you and I respect him still.
- He killed my brother! – Kate screamed.
- I know that Guy has committed crimes, - Meg countered in a firm voice, - but if you knew him any better – if you knew him half as well as I know him now – you would know that he repents them. – Meg had seen the distraught look on Guy's face at the mention of past wrongdoings and knew that it was true.
Kate said nothing, measuring her with a cold stare. As if to say, "believe it if you want to".
Meanwhile, Much came to Meg's rescue.
- My lady, - he still used the formal address, the same as he had used for Marian, despite Meg having all but become a full-fledged outlaw, - I have seen Gis- Sir Guy this morning and I think he was going to the river. I think he mentioned something about going for a swim.
- Thank you, Much. – Meg was grateful both for the information and for the welcome distraction from Kate's diatribe. – When was it that you saw him?
- I would say, an hour or so ago. He should be back soon, I suppose.
- Which direction is it? I think I will go out to meet him.
Much hesitated.
- I am not sure if… it would be a good idea, my lady. He mentioned before he left… he asked us not to let you out of our sight, my lady. – Much did his best to sound apologetic, but Meg had an idea.
- What if you go with me? – she tried her most winning smile on Much. – That way I can still go and you won't have let me out of your sight for an instant.
Much looked over at the others, and after seeing a wink from John and a nod of approval from Tuck, turned back to Meg obviously more convinced.
- Very well, my lady. When will you be ready to leave?
- I am ready.
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They had barely gone halfway – or so Much had said – along the dried stream that ran to the river when they saw Guy walking toward them. Meg smiled happily at seeing him but tried to dismiss the momentary flash of disappointment, not wanting to think why she had been hoping to make it to the river while he was still there – so that we would walk back all the way together, she told herself. Guy looked slightly preoccupied when he spotted them, but upon seeing that Meg was obviously unhurt and seemingly happy, his face relaxed.
- Good morning, my lady. Good morning, Much, - he almost smiled as Much's eyes went wide at the unexpected courtesy. – What brings you out here?
- You do, - Meg answered smoothly. – Well, I should say I do, being that I wanted to come and meet you and I asked Much to come along. How was the river?
- Very good. – he still looked surprised at the notion that Meg would take such an interest in his whereabouts. – Very good indeed.
- Sir Guy, - Much spoke as if he had suddenly remembered something, – I… think I will go to the river myself. I have been thinking I wanted to bathe… if you don't mind, my lady, - he looked at Meg hopefully.
Both Guy and Meg chuckled at his excuse which, for all its awkwardness, had lost none of the consideration.
- Of course we don't mind, Much, - said Meg, taking Guy's hand, - enjoy yourself! My lord? – she turned back to Guy with a wink. - Shall we?
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- So tell me, - she said when they had walked for a few yards. – What happened in York? What did you and Robin do?
- You know already, - Guy sounded almost surprised. – Robin told you, didn't he?
- He only told me that you shared a half-brother, that you found it out a few days ago, and that you helped him escape from the dungeon before he rode away. That is all. We did not have that much of a long talk. And besides, - she glanced at Guy again, - I told you that I wanted to hear it from you.
- Really? - Guy looked back at her with his typical smirk. – Very well, I will tell you.
As he recounted to Meg the eventful tale of their daring adventure in York, the ruse that got him into the dungeon, the mad race through the castle and the narrow escape from an intended execution – omitting the part where he was nearly hanged in the process – she looked alternately excited and frightened and relieved, as if the story were not merely a past matter. But by the time Guy had finished, and had said in conclusion that their brother had left them with barely a word, she looked sad.
- Maybe he was not sure if he could trust you, - she said eventually. - I still think he did the wrong thing, but maybe he felt safer on his own… - Meg herself sounded less than convinced.
- Yes, so he was going to work for Isabella after we had got him out, - Guy laughed bitterly. – Whatever his reasons, the best I can hope for – for all of us – is to never see him again. Better no family at all than a family of backstabbing hypocrites.
- We do not know for sure that he will work for Isabella, - Meg said quietly, shaken by the pain in Guy's voice, - you may be right, but give it just a little more time to see where things go.
Guy sighed. With his sister's ambitions growing more exorbitant every day, things seemed firmly headed toward trouble. But he did not want to dwell on that while he still had a few precious moments – hours? days? – left to spend with Meg in the happy illusion that all could be well with the world.
- We'll see.
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They did not see much of each other for the rest of the day – or rather, they did, but had to resort to casting glances from a distance as Guy offered John to help sharpen the swords and set the munitions in order and Meg offered to help with mending tattered clothes – "we must earn our keep", she had joked to John, in reality glad to be doing something that kept her away from Kate, who had busied herself with furiously cleaning cooking pots. So while Meg and Guy hardly left each other out of their sight, they did not speak again almost until supper.
Meanwhile, it looked as if things were heating up in Nottingham. Robin and Allan came back late with a nice fat hare, but their faces were gloomy as they recounted their failure to intercept a courier - from Prince John, judging by the flash of livery they saw before the man disappeared into the city gate – which could only mean that Isabella was still scheming, and likely planning something big in her pretender patron's support. They agreed to keep watch along both roads leading from Nottingham through the forest early the next morning – no courier would venture into Sherwood forest at dusk - to catch whoever Isabella would send back with a reply.
With the meal over and the plans for the next day made, the mood relaxed somewhat, and the outlaws stayed around the fire bantering until Robin got up and bade everyone good night. Whether by coincidence or design, Kate started yawning profusely and soon retired as well. The others stayed for a while longer until John and Tuck likewise headed for bed, and Much followed soon afterwards. Allan stretched lazily before getting up and turning to look at Guy and Meg with a wink.
- I'd love to stay here and chat with you lot, but I fear that you sweethearts will not appreciate my eloquence. Good night to you both, and see you on the morn!
- Allan… - Guy began, with the closest approximation of a threatening tone that he could manage while trying not to smile.
- Good night to you too, Allan, - Meg said lightly. – Sleep well!
Allan smirked back at them and wandered off into the darkness, leaving Guy and Meg alone by the fire.
- I never thought that living in Sherwood forest could be so pleasant, - Meg said, sidling up to Guy to rest her hands on his shoulder before he put an arm around her waist to bring her closer.
- Trust me, it is not always so, - he chuckled. – I have done it before.
- You?! – she sat up, looking at his face in amazement, quickly turning to confusion at seeing the pain in his eyes. – Why?
Guy closed his eyes and was silent for a few moments.
- I told you that my parents died when I was your age, - he said finally. - We lived near here, my father held land that was later added to the Locksley estate.
Meg inhaled sharply but forced herself to stay silent.
- He was away at the Crusades and presumed dead, and my mother… was going to marry Robin's father thinking that she was a widow. Archer is their child, as I suppose Robin told you.
Meg nodded quietly.
- When my father came back it was eventually discovered that he had contracted leprosy, and he was exiled, but… one day he came back to the manor, - Guy could not, not yet at least, force himself to recount what had led to the altercation, - and Lord Locksley came to confront him. I argued with him and… we fought over a lit torch that started the fire, but I could not stop him from going upstairs… My parents… died in that fire. Locksley was thought to have died too, but he survived and… went away for many years. He is dying now anyway. But after that fire we lost the land, and Robin became the new lord.
- Robin?! – She should have figured it out, really, but Meg was still shocked at the mention of the other man's name.
- He is Locksley's son, so he inherited his father's lands. And ours, as they had been granted to my father and I was not of age yet. He had guardians, you see, who handled these matters for him… - Guy tried to keep the rancor from his voice. – In any case, Isabella and I left but we had nowhere to go, so we lived in this forest for months… and I am telling you, it was not pleasant in the least. – He gave a bitter laugh.
- This is… terrible, - Meg said eventually, - and completely unfair. – She had always wondered why Guy had chased Robin with such determination, and finally understood. – What did you do next?
- We wanted to go to France to look for family but we had no money so we found work… as servants and such, - Guy was talking through clenched teeth now. – We made it to Portsmouth but… Isabella was always… doing things behind my back, playing with danger and thinking she could get away with it. I tried to stop her, to protect her… but I could not handle her. We met Thornton in Portsmouth and he… offered to marry her. I did not want to let him at first but then… I agreed.
Meg said nothing. She had seen Thornton to be a cold, cruel man, but it was obvious that Guy had had his reasons for the reluctantly-struck bargain.
- Do you really have family in France? – she asked instead.
- Not really, I am afraid. I went there, but found only distant relatives, no real family… It is a beautiful country, though. I liked it there.
- I'd like to see it, - Meg smiled. – Will you take me?
Nothing I would want more, Guy thought. If only I live to do it.
- I would like to. I will, if we have that chance.
- Thank you.
They sat in silence until the fire had gone out.
- Come on, you need to sleep, - Guy said eventually. - Everyone will be up early and they will wake you up in any event. – He got up and helped Meg to her feet.
She would rather stay by the fireside than go to Kate's shack, but Meg realised that Guy himself needed to be up early for their watch for Isabella's courier.
He walked her to the cabin and stopped just outside, holding her hand and smiling at her in the darkness.
- Good night, ma chère, - he whispered before kissing her lightly on the lips.
Meg held on to his arm, reluctant to let him go, before eventually giving up. Guy smiled at her again before turning toward Tuck's hut.
Good night, my love, she thought as she smiled back at him.
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2. A night in jail ('chapter 17½')
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This place stinks.
Guy grimaced as he kicked the pile of slippery rotten straw that had been tossed into the empty room to provide a semblance of a bed. Or rather, a mockery of one.
Not that I would consider sleeping, anyway.
It had to be just before midnight. He had come back to the riverside cave in the forest an hour after sunset, and had barely spent half an hour sitting next to Meg outside before the brief and vicious scuffle had resulted in him being bound and gagged and thrown unceremoniously across a horse's back to be brought back to Nottingham. He had fought hard, but with five men against him, he had hardly stood a chance.
At least he had killed the one in charge. It did not help his cause much, especially as he then had to suffer the indignity of having the body trussed next to him over the saddle – not with the other four men and, he realised belatedly, two more who had stayed to watch the barracks having been ordered to bring him to the Black Knights in Winchester and promised a good reward. Still, Guy had used the precious moments before he was overpowered and his dagger, the only weapon he had on him after unbuckling his sword scabbard by the fire, was forced out of his hand by a cut to his wrist, to drive that dagger into the chest of Baron Mowbray who had had the stupidity to have punched him and left a bloody gash in the side of his face with his signet ring. Guy had recognised the irritable, stocky man when the moon shone briefly on his face, and had instantly known that his past with Vasey had caught up with him. And in an ironic twist, the place he was dragged back to had been built on Vasey's orders for the Black Knights' visit – a small barracks near the crumbled castle wall, now disused, constructed hastily to house the knights' retinue of guards and their supplies, little more than a dormitory with rows of bunks and a storeroom at one end.
Guy looked up with a sudden realization that he had been pacing nervously around the room, oblivious to the limp he had developed. A month ago, he had viewed the prospect of death as salvation, as a chance of blissful oblivion. But now, he was worried. Not for himself; since Richard was back in his kingdom, Guy's life was eventually forfeit anyway. But for the first time in years, he wanted to, needed to stay alive because a beautiful, brave woman was waiting for him in the middle of a forest, alone in the dark. And he had to see her safely through this turmoil, whether or not he would live to marry her when it was over.
When he had uttered a quick prayer for her safety, Guy's thoughts wandered to their meeting in the castle dungeon. He had been content to be left alone in the dim, musty cell, and had viewed the young stranger as an intrusion upon his well-deserved misery. Yet he was now infinitely grateful for whatever blessed misguided idea had impelled Meg to talk to him. If he dared, he would have prayed that they could escape Richard's wrath in France – he had long dreamed of buying land and a winery there if he ever had extra money – and live a long peaceful life together. But he did not dare hope for that much.
At least for the moment he had something else to be grateful for: whether by accident or by design, Meg had stayed hidden during and after the fight. Guy could not bear to think of what might have happened had the brutish guards caught sight of her while he was helpless, tied up and unable to defend her. Still, the thought of Meg alone in Sherwood Forest was enough to send a chill through his bones.
He took another turn around the room, more purposeful this time, taking in the details of his prison in the hope that an escape opportunity would occur to him. It was not a purpose-built dungeon cell; the room was designed with restrictions in mind, but the intent had been to keep people from getting in rather than out: Guy was locked up in the emptied storeroom. The main advantage of that was an unexpected degree of privacy: unlike dungeon cells, the room boasted a massive door of solid wood. The only link to the outside world was a small barred window in its long wall; Guy tested the bars, but they refused to budge. The window was likely too small to let him escape in any case. There was no furniture save for a huge wooden chest left in a corner; Guy's hands were manacled behind his back – at least the guards had the courtesy to have taken off the gag - but he managed to grab hold of the sloping lid to ascertain that the chest was both open and empty. If he had half a day, he mused, it would have been possible to dig a hole in the packed dirt floor big enough to crawl through – he had no weapons left but could use the spurs on his boots for that purpose – but with the matin hour approaching, he likely had no more than four or five hours before he would join his captors for their return journey to Winchester.
For the first time in years, perhaps in his entire life, Guy wished that someone would come to his rescue. He had been in trouble countless times before, and had even been rescued before. Most of the time, however, it had been Vasey to have aided him. Vasey, who more often than not had put him in danger in the first place, and who invariably charged a high price for his charity in the form of endlessly berating Guy afterwards, to a point when he would wish he had been killed instead. Yet there had been others, and Guy still remembered those occasions with amazement. Most recently, in York and at the siege, he had been saved by Robin and Archer; before that, in a most incredible and heartbreaking turn of events, by Meg; once before, by Allan; once or twice, even Marian had apparently deemed his life worth saving. But he had never needed his life and freedom as desperately. Still, he had to admit, with Robin dead, Allan wounded, and Marian away, no one would care to help Guy of Gisborne – save for Meg, and she had no way of knowing where he was.
His train of thought was broken by the matin bell tolling, and just then -
Let graaaateful loooove quell maaaaiden shaaaaame -
The forceful, tuneless bellowing made Guy wince. Did the guards get so drunk so fast as to forget all pretence at secrecy? If so, they would be in no shape to travel at dawn. Maybe there was hope, after all. But the song grew even louder, and in the next moment Guy was staring in momentary shocked incomprehension as the storeroom door was unlocked and another man was pushed through it to stumble and fall on the dirt floor, muttering slurred curses.
Guy's bewilderment lasted only until the newcomer looked up, and even in the absence of lights – moonlight outside was providing the only illumination – Guy recognised his half-brother's keen eyes and handsome features. He had the good sense to keep quiet, but as soon as the guards' footsteps had retreated, Guy carefully set himself down next to Archer, who by then was sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, seeming perfectly at home, and greeted him in a husky whisper.
- Fancy seeing you here, brother!
- I figured it had been too long since I was last in prison. I was beginning to miss the experience, - Archer drawled.
Both chuckled. As Archer shifted slightly, Guy became increasingly aware that the other man reeked of strong drink, and that his boots were coated in mud as if he had been crawling in it, and feared for a moment that his half-brother was completely drunk.
- How long have you been boozing?
- Don't be silly, - this time, Archer's whisper was crisp and businesslike. – I poured the stuff all over my clothes before I challenged the fools guarding this place outside to a game of dice, so they would take me for an easy target to dupe. – I have used up half a skin of perfectly good eau-de-vie, but I assure you I am stone cold sober. Just needed to make enough ruckus for them to want to stick me in here with you, away from the hall.
Guy sighed with relief. His brother might be sixteen years his junior but he had clearly mastered everything to do with fighting and tactics.
- Thank you, - he said finally, after they sat for a while in silence listening to the guards bantering noisily through their late meal. No doubt, rejoicing over Guy's capture and the unexpected boon of a few coins confiscated from the drunken fool with an unfortunate passion for nighttime gambling. Or so they thought.
- For what?
- Well… you came here, didn't you? Even though it is still incredible that he did.
- You did it for me, remember? And then I went and got you and Robin in a tight spot with all that powder. – Archer fell silent for a moment, remembering that his other brother had never made it through that last spot of trouble. – Besides, you had the most persuasive supplicant arguing on your behalf.
- Who?! – for an instant, Guy was genuinely dumbfounded.
- Your betrothed, of course. She came to our camp –
- No! – Even though there was nothing he could do about it, Guy was protesting. – She did not walk alone through the forest at night to find you –
- Oh, but she did!
It took a few moments for Guy to collect his wits. He was too lost between gratitude and frustration.
- That woman, - he finally managed, - is impossible.
- You'd better thank your lucky stars, brother, for whatever it was that made her fancy you so much. For without her we would have never known what happened, let alone –
- We?! – So Archer and Meg are not the only people who do not want me dead? This is getting stranger by the instant.
- Well, John and Much and Tuck and I, that is.
- I see. – He still had difficulty understanding it.
Meanwhile, Archer's thoughts ran in a more pragmatic vein.
- Are you badly hurt?
- Not really. – Guy's body was aching all over and he suspected that a close look would reveal its share of scratches and bruises, but the consequence of his being greatly outnumbered by better-armed opponents was that it had not been much of a fight. And he was lucky that they happened to need him alive, after all.
- Good, - Archer muttered. - Excellent! – he added as he looked closely at Guy's boots.
- What?
- You have spurs!
- Why, don't you? – Guy squinted at Archer's muddy boots, surprised that something so commonplace could seem unexpected.
- I did, but I had to sell them. Bought me a week's meals in York before I was caught.
Guy looked down in silence. In his relatively comfortable life until a month ago, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be destitute. Almost forgotten what his own life had once been like.
- I was not saying it to shame you, - Archer's tone was unexpectedly conciliatory.
- I did not take it so. You might be surprised… but my life was little different when I was your age.
– Give me one of those so I can cut through the bindings here, - Archer continued, motioning to Guy's spurred boots with his wrists, tied together with a length of rope.
Guy kicked off the boot and sat watching Archer as he pried off the spur, returned the boot to him and started scratching away at the cord.
- How did you manage, anyway? – Guy finally asked. - How did you become a weapons trader?
- Simple, really. I did not have a lot of choice. Grew up in Canterbury as a choir boy at an abbey until I was ten, but then ran off to London and apprenticed myself to an armourer. Three years later the man died and I went off to France, then made my way to Marseilles, got hired as a deckhand on a ship bound for Constantinople, and there met an Indian merchant who told me all sorts of wonderful stories about the riches in his country. I was fourteen by then, and he took me on as a bodyguard – no one suspected that I was a good fighter at my age – so I accompanied him to India. But when we got there, I heard more stories about wonders that lay further east, and took my leave to go there. I did not get rich but I found out things that I thought could make me a fortune in Europe. So I sought out my Indian patron and returned with him on his next journey to Byzantium, and brought samples and writings with me. Back in Constantinople, he helped me meet a local armourer who made me a good supply of munitions in exchange for eventually getting the powder formula from me, and after selling a small portion of those I had enough money to charter a ship for England loaded with these things. I thought I would set myself up for life, sell all that and buy myself a huge damn castle, except that once or twice I cheated and got caught, and once or twice I was cheated upon, and one thing leading to another, I got in trouble with the Sheriff of York's cousin. You know the rest.
- You have seen more of the world than I could ever dream of, - sighed Guy, in awe of his little brother's adventures. – More than most people could dream of, really.
- Funny, and all that time all I wanted was to have a home here.
- I know what you mean. – Guy's voice was genuinely sad. – You and me both, brother.
- At least you are betrothed to a lovely lady now. One way or another, the two of you will find a way to make a living.
If Richard does not have me executed first, Guy thought.
- How come you never married until now? – Archer continued. – You are what, thirty? Thirty-five?
- Almost thirty-seven, - Guy muttered. – I was betrothed… once.
- What happened?
There was a long silence.
- She left me, - Guy said very quietly, just when Archer thought that he would leave the question unanswered.
- Why?
- The lady... is Robin's wife. Robin's widow, - he corrected himself, trying to ignore Archer whistling in surprise. – She always loved him, I suppose, but when I met her while he was away, I hoped... wanted to hope that she would consider me, would choose me... once I knew her I could not imagine a life without her, but she never loved me, and I could never be good enough for her... Maybe she was right. And when I finally saw that she would never stop loving Robin I... hated him all the more for it but knew that I'd never be able to keep her. So I... let her go. – Guy's voice caught in his throat. He still could not think back to that day, that evening, without choking in pain. It was as if he had died then, as if Marian had died, and everything since then had been a peculiarly lifelike variety of hell. Until he met Meg, that is.
- What is she like? – it was a cruel question, but Guy knew that it was prompted by pure curiosity. Archer had never set eyes on Marian, and had only heard her mentioned in passing during the siege, as she had spent those past few weeks away at the abbey of Rufford giving birth to her and Robin's child.
Guy hesitated again. Since the day they had said their goodbyes, he had seen Marian again, had even spoken to her, but it was as if she had become a ghost to him. He could still recall her face, its many expressions, alternately coquettish and stern, concerned and mischievous, but the memory of her was distant and faded. The pain was there, but it almost seemed as if all that had happened to someone else.
- She was… is… stronger, and more reckless than Robin and I put together. And better-looking, - he smirked. – And noble, not just by title. Always had a soft spot for the peasants and the poor, and I could not see eye to eye with her on that for the life of me. I pray that she… does not take the news too hard. And I hope she finds happiness again. As I have found it.
- You and Robin were really at each other's throats a lot, were you not? – Archer asked, shaking his hands to get rid of the stiffness once he had finally cut through his restraints.
- We had our reasons, - Guy countered somewhat more defensively than he would have liked to. – But in the end, it did not matter…
- Shhhh… - Archer lifted his now-free hand and turned to the door to listen. There had been hardly any noise from the other side of the door for a while, and after a few seconds of silence, they were able to discern the welcome sounds of heavy snoring coming from the hall. The guards had finally drunk themselves to sleep.
- So what do we do now? – asked Guy as Archer fished out a long curved pin from a concealed pocket in his jerkin and expertly manoeuvred it to pry open Guy's handcuffs.
- What do you think we do? We escape! Or do you think that I merely wanted to keep you company here? – Archer was whispering, but his voice still managed to convey all the smugness of a loud retort. Just like Robin, really.
- I know that, you brat. But how the hell do we escape? There is nothing…
Guy's voice trailed off as Archer pulled of his soiled boots – soiled, he now realised, for the exact purpose of rendering them unattractive in the eyes of anyone who might want to relieve Archer of his footwear – to reveal that the high boots had been packed tight with leather satchels. Guy had seen enough of Archer's merchandise to know what they contained.
Presently, the younger man lifted his shirt and began to uncoil strands of rope wound about his waist. Judging by the smell, the rope had also been doused with spirits.
- You never know when these things can come in handy, - Archer chuckled as Guy tried not to look too much in awe of his young brother's resourcefulness. – You are lucky I had some of these leftovers at the camp.
- But we do not need this much to blow open the door, - Guy reasoned.
- Who said anything about the door? There are still four guards in here, plus two outside, and drunk as they may be, they are armed with swords and pikes, which is more than can be said about us. No, brother, I think we are better off blowing up this wall here, - Archer pointed to the outside wall with its small window.
- What, and have it fall in on us?
- Not if I place the powder charges correctly, - Archer countered. – Get your other spur.
Guy unbuckled the remaining spur off his boot and watched Archer as he proceeded to use the first spur to dig a small, deep hole at the base of the wall before motioning to Guy.
- See how I do it? Make them deep enough, but not too far out so that the wall collapses outwards, not inwards.
They moved along the central portion of the wall, digging holes every couple of feet – with Archer's half a dozen satchels, they could well blow a gap two or three yards wide to make certain that they could escape – before Guy reattached his prized spurs, Archer planted the charges and affixed the rope fuses, and before they pushed the empty chest to the wall opposite the one they were about to blow up, and tipped it sideways, with the open top side facing the near wall away from the impending explosion.
Archer next produced, from somewhere inside his jerkin, a jagged flint and a bent bracket of firesteel, and unwrapped a remaining leather pouch, spreading the leather flat on the floor to reveal a chunk of dried horse's-hoof. He crouched on the floor and prepared to strike the flint when Guy grabbed his shoulder.
- Wait! – he hissed. – You cannot spark a fire when your clothes are soaked in spirits!
- Oh bloody hell! – Archer clenched his hand in a tight fist. In the excitement of the moment, he had actually forgotten about that, and was both grateful to Guy for staying alert and angry at himself for his near-fatal blunder.
- Let me, - Guy offered.
- No, I'll do it, -Archer insisted. He stripped off to his bare chest and rubbed his skin with the dry back of his linen shirt before turning to Guy.
- Give me your jerkin.
- What for? – Guy's voice was laced with suspicion.
- What do you think for? – I need to cover up my trousers, they are soaked as well.
Guy looked hesitant.
- You will not burn through it, will you? I like this jerkin…
- Oh, you will have your precious jerkin back.
- Question is, will I have it back with a big hole burned in it?
- Would you rather have a big hole burned in my nether parts? I would not.
Guy chuckled as he shook off the jerkin and handed it to Archer, but still managed to look vaguely sulky.
After a few attempts, the firesteel sparked and the horse's-hoof kindled with a patch of glowing points. Archer picked up the chunk of fungus and blew on it to keep the fire going.
The two men now crouched just inside the upturned chest as Archer prepared to light the fuses. Despite his best efforts to conceal it, Guy looked visibly tense.
- Skittish, are you? – Archer teased.
- I had a bad experience with powder, - Guy growled.
Archer was seemingly unimpressed.
- It cannot have been that bad. You are alive, and still have your hands and feet attached, which is more than most of those who have truly had a bad experience can boast.
- Very well, but barring that, it was bad enough. I had three barrels of powder explode some thirty yards behind my back. Three huge barrels stuck in a mountain cave!
Archer whistled softly.
- How in the world did that happen?
Guy shook his head.
- Robin, - he said finally.
This time, Archer almost laughed out loud.
- And yet you were fighting side by side by the time I met the pair of you. Now this sort of forgiveness is impressive indeed.
It was Guy's turn to chuckle.
- Somehow I never looked at it that way.
- Ready? – Archer asked, holding the rope fuses in one hand and the smouldering fungus in the other.
- As ready as can be, - Guy sighed.
Archer held the horse's-hoof to the fuses long enough to ensure that they were all lit, before dropping them and ducking inside the chest alongside Guy.
- Cover your ears, - he had time to say before the room filled with the brilliant flashes of the exploding powder, the air turned acrid with smoke and dust, and the thunderous crash reverberated through the street.
The explosion had propelled the chest and its occupants closer toward the wall, but a good push was all that was needed to widen the gap enough to get out. The two men cautiously poked their heads out of their shelter –
To see an irregular gaping hole at least four yards wide in the wall opposite, surrounded by piles of rubble. Some might call the sight ugly, but to the two prisoners, it was nothing short of beautiful.
They had made their way through the gap long before the shocked guards stumbled to the storeroom door.
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