Vesey was split in a cacophony of indecision. His brain did not have the matter to decide which could be worse: England's rebellion over the inauguration of Prince John or the pressing Saracen troops edging ever closer and ever heavier to his country's border. Both, he had concluded over the past few sleepless nights, were inevitable. The Sheriff of Nottingham melted away his underlying worry with a sinister grin. His pudgy knuckles popped as he resituated himself in the wooden chair at the table. The cellophane honey he spoke was little trouble if his plan paid off.
"I mean, what have you to lose, my friend, hm? Your superior army organized across these lands, our trade routes booming! The heart of England forever in the debt of your country." He batted his eyelashes across the mahogany furniture. The deep brown eyes of the Italian leader wandered around the room as he pondered each sugar coated promise Nottingham had just offered him. The foreign representative placed his olive toned hands flat to the table, the firmness of his strength highlighted.
"I fear that is not enough, Sheriff Vesey," he replied, "What is to keep you from taking advantage of my generosity? Frankly, I do not trust you. What is in it for me if I lend you my troops to lose their blood for your cause?"
"Yes, well…" the moment ignited a furnace that boiled the back of his neck before Vesey was recollected.
"No offense, my good man, but times are hard."
"Of course, England is no different than Italy in that sense… what is it you want?" The Sherriff directly questioned, his eyes smoldering with a passionate curiosity as he leaned over the edge of the table. His guest feigned a hesitation of thought.
"My daughter. She is old enough to marry, but not humble enough for a suitor. I propose an arrangement."
"Arrangement?"
"My daughter is to marry your son, keep the blood of Italy pumping in England, in return for my soldiers at your limited disposal."
"Well, you see, I don't have a so- hang on a minute… yes. Yes, I think this could work out wonderfully… do tell me about this daughter of yours."
Underneath the soil and stone of Nottingham castle there was not a soul who was capable of acting out a drop of gratitude or any smile, for that matter, for here were the recesses of darkness and despair. Within the dank and musty dungeon sat no need for any formalities. Whether the imprisoned were innocent or not, they were treated the same; as scum lit only by orange ribbons from mounted torches along the molding walls. Newcomers harbored utter cowardice in their eyes before the torturer, Sir Guy of Gisborne, but those already maimed with his signature held only contempt. As the most feared man in Nottingham emerged from the hellhole he had helped create, he discovered his superior picking stubbed fingernails just outside the door.
"Ah, Gisborne, hard at work, eh?" Vesey rocked his weight from his heels to his toes with a smirk Guy instinctively crawled from.
"Let's just say Nettlestone will be sure to be caught up on taxes next time." His baritone voice hummed.
"Good. Well, my dear Gisborne, I have a bit of a gift for you. After all, you have been getting those gloves mighty dirty lately, mmm?"
"Gift?" Guy's eyebrows shrunk into a furrow as his leather tightened to protect his heart from whatever was to come. His stubbled jaw slacked to the right. The Sheriff waggled a finger in command to follow and, like a well trained poodle, Guy obliged. The duo sauntered down an open corridor that framed the garden; their height difference was striking, and yet both men were filled with equal hate that could halt anyone.
"Tell me, are you still upset about that whole Marian thing?" Vesey waved off the words with a casual air. The breath, however, was beaten from Gisborne's lungs with a board as his body shut down momentarily. His stride fell back to his boss but his mind did not. Marian Knighton, the girl he loved but the personality he despised, the beauty he craved with the attitude he spat back, the one who abandoned him to live in the forest with his nemesis. It had been months since Marian had run off with Robin of Locksley but the rejection still pained his nerves.
"She is an outlaw now." came the masking answer to his humanity.
"Yes, well, I think I have something that will cheer you up," the Sheriff chuckled, "I mean, after all, you do have a thing for brunettes, don't you?"