Hullo, just one thing. This is my first ever story, so be kind. If you want to read about Guy, you've come to the right place!
This will detail his life, pre the TV programme right up till then, so this giant saga of mine will just end sort of after the plot of the King… and then naturally the story continued is the programme. So, the ultimate ending is in the writer's hands. Er… let's hope they don't stick with the traditional legend i.e. beheading Guy; as his following life shows it's not very nice and yeah he deserves a happy ending. Enjoy, I'll shut up now!!
P.s. Reviews are good : )
"Grow up, Gisborne"
Chapter 1
On the 19th November 1159 a baby boy was born to the hopeful couple, Elfrieda and Harold of Gisborne. The newlyweds had only just inherited the small estate upon Harold's father's death. The couple were deeply in love and it had not taken long for Elfrieda to become pregnant.
Bathing in the afterglow of the birth and looking down upon the tiny baby in her arms all the parental love in the world filled them up, they could envisage nothing but joy and happiness lighting the way for their newborn son.
The local woman who had helped with the delivery looked up and smiled, "He'll grow up to be a fine one that I'll warrant my lady" and she smoothed the baby's black hair so that it would lie flat before leaving the new family to bask in their contentment.
"We'll call him 'Guy'; after my father, if that meets with your approval, my dear?" Harold mocked. Elfrieda looked up and offered him an indulgent smile before looking down again at her son.
"Guy," she said out loud to herself as if finalizing it. The name suited him, she thought. Harold was proud of his father's heritage and wanted his son to know it to and be proud. For indeed the name was meant to be an honour.
Harold's father Guy was the first to have been given the estate. He had been knighted by King Henry after distinguishing himself in first Crusade. Harold's father, very talented with the sword had single-handedly protected the King's life once the city's walls had been breached, ruthlessly killing the cities fiercest warriors to save him.
As a consequence, in the spring of 1117 Guy was finally set free from his obligations to the Earl of Norwich, and at only twenty-three he had released himself from his feudal overlord. He became a knight, with only one overlord, who was twenty miles away and only required a portion of tax each year. It was hard to believe at first that he was being given a small estate, which had lain deserted for seventeen years, and to adjust to being called 'milord'! Guy thought that he would be destined to bow and scrape to his master; a hard upbringing in the Norwich Castle, as page boy, had taught him not to dream.
However, since the old noble the previous owner, had died and no heir had assumed control it was free to be handed down to some deserving young buck. It was rumoured that the previous master had one surviving daughter, but she had left and never returned. In the seventeen years which the estate had been unsupervised the serfs had grown lazy and fat.
At first the surfs were loath to do the bidding of, as they saw it, a young interloper and what's more, a commoner with no drop of noble blood in his veins. In comparison, the previous master had been granted the estate in recognition for helping to secure the great victory for the Norman King William in the great conquest of 1066.
In the early days Guy caused much resentment as he was young and re-focused them on their duties, which was no easy task. Though eventually the fear turned to respect, and the serfs were treated as well as could be expected, and were able to do the young master's bidding with pride as he was imbued an inner nobility of spirit.
Harold knew that this respect had been hard won and he had grown up learning to adopt a lofty air when addressing the peasants to maintain the distinction. He knew he would raise his son to be like him in that respect, and teach him be worthy of the knightly class. However, little did Harold know that unruly serfs would be the least of his son's problems. The fate of the boy as heir presumptive was already being questioned merely twenty miles away…
In Nottingham Castle:
No matter, he thought, he could still have a future. On the night of this sixteenth birthday Robert was plotting. He was very intelligent; a Machiavellian, just like his mother. Mother! He thought and quickly damned her name, if only she had got the man to say a couple of vows in the presence of a priest before manipulating him into sex; Wouldn't have been a bloody bastard then.
His father was a weak willed man lacking any passion, ironically, as he had been conceived in a fit of passion by his parents. Robert was particularly interested in researching his father's mother's side of the family - he was sure there was money in it. And though his mother was no common prostitute but mistress to Edmund Sheriff of Nottingham… He lived in a degree of quality and had the title of Strathclyde, but it was only that; a title, meaningless. It had only been awarded through his mother's talents and by the Sheriff's fear that he might be his own illegitimate son.
It was a place where morals were few and far between. But Robert was determined to have money and position and he know that through his father's mother's side he was related to one who fought with the conquering Norman army alongside King William. Robert was connected with victory and nobility and he reckoned he should ruddy well have a piece of it for himself.
Robert picked up his glass and studied himself. He knew he was handsome, with chiselled features and high check bones a pale complexion topped off with tousled light brown hair. He also had all of his white teeth from childhood, which was rare. He'd sucked in his checks and perfected that look of haughtiness to enhance his beauty. He knew that beautiful people deserved success and he was beautiful and also cunning. Therefore, his future must be equally bright.