It was a cool and overcast spring morning on April 24th, 1194. The people of Nottingham village were assembled in the cathedral for Sunday worship. Among those present was the dark and enigmatic Sheriff of Nottingham. He was tall with a regal air about him. His looks were a combination of mystery and erotica. His dark, tousled wavy hair gleamed like the down of a raven and fell just to his collar. He had fierce, glowing amber hazel eyes that could pierce through to one's soul in a glance. He had a somewhat large nose that only added to his looks. His perfectly shaped lips were full and upturned almost into a smirk, even when he wasn't consciously smiling, and his face was framed by a neat beard which added to his enigmatic appeal. He wore black breeches tucked into shiny black boots, a black doublet trimmed in gold toned leather, and a beautiful regal black cloak embellished in gold embroidery. He looked more like a monarch than a Sheriff. He tried not to fidget there in his seat. He loathed attending mass. He no more believed in God than the idea of a heaven. He would much prefer to stick flaming arrows in his eyes than waste his time with this foolish formality. Alas, he was only there for political reasons. He moved in the same circles as the Bishop of Hereford who conducted the service, and a few of the Barons were present this day, so he dutifully attended.
His head ached. He had been making rather merry the night previous. He would have preferred to have ravished the wench again who kept his bed warm this morning, instead he sent her on her way, paying her a meager ten shillings for her company, despite her protests that the Sheriff of York would pay her in gold pieces for the same ministrations. The corners of his dark mustache curled when he grinned thinking of how she had pleased him several times until he finally fell asleep, somewhere near the witching hour. And then when the cock crowed he groaned, for it was then he suddenly remembered what day it was. How he loathed Sundays.
His ears pricked suddenly from the odious tedium at the mention of his name by the Bishop of Hereford during his parting words at the close of the service…
"… our noble Sheriff of Nottingham. Grant him the wisdom…
The Sheriff gave a halfhearted smile his eyes then moved downcast. God's nightgown, just get on with it!
"… to guide and protect…"
With his head bent down in feigned humility, he slowly turned to his left to steal a glance at the noble Lady Marian of Dubois. She sat across and slightly in back of him on the other side of the vast cathedral, obviously more interested than he was in paying attention. He had been eyeing her for some time. The beautiful maiden he had yet to conquer.
She was suddenly aware of his eyes upon her. Finally she caught his boyish gaze upon her, a smile she knew was a flirtatious gesture. She offered a tertiary courteous smile in return. She fidgeted slightly in discomfiture. Her servant, Sarah straightened in her seat to the right of her, immediately sensing Marian's alarm. Marian returned her gaze to the Bishop. The Sheriff quirked his left eyebrow, feeling somewhat defeated as he turned his attention back to face the Bishop.
"… the lawless men who would threaten its safety and prosperity, and the judgement to punish them. In your name. Amen."
The Sheriff genuflected along with everyone gathered there but it was an act performed perfunctorily and wholly devoid of meaning. Then he couldn't help but notice in his peripheral vision, when the Bishop added: "Go in peace.", that Lady Marian all but bolted from her seat to make her escape, no doubt from him. Curses!
Later in the cathedral foyer he stood talking to the Barons. Again he noticed her in the distance to his left, this time she was kneeling before an altar. Myriad candles burned brightly before her casting an aura of light about her. A tall, curious hooded figure stood to her right holding a staff. The unfortunate man was turned slightly left as if he were speaking to her. A brief thought entered his mind that perhaps the man was Locksley, stealing a moment with her. He dismissed it. Surely the whelp wouldn't dare come here after he had killed four of the Sheriff's men!
Then he remembered a recent discussion with his cousin – his Lieutenant Sir Guy of Gisborne, who informed him that the sorry oaf along with his Moorish companion who wielded a Saracen sword, had also been reported to have stolen two of Lady Marian's horses. Gisborne had been suspicious she was attempting to shelter outlaws, but this had been her account of the matter. The Sheriff smiled to himself as he nodded to the tall, husky red haired Baron, for he suddenly had an idea form in his calculating mind. He would speak to her when she drew herself away from the altar. He made his excuses to the Barons and slowly made his way to a large column near to where she stood, waiting unobtrusively after the hooded vagrant took leave. He waited like a predatory animal eyeing its prey, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike and catch her off guard.
Finally she turned and was heading in his direction. She indeed looked enchanting. She wore a deep orange gown and a cloak that was rust in colour embroidered in gold. Her tight auburn ringlets that framed her flawless milky complexion was covered in a chiffon wimple that matched her gown. He smiled at her moving toward her and took her gloved left hand before she could escape.
"You shine like the sun, my lady." He said in his perfectly smooth as silk baritone voice as he kissed her hand, wishing it were not covered by the long, fawn coloured leather glove.
She smiled graciously as he did so. He wondered if it was genuine or feigned interest?
He was disappointed when she turned down his offer of protection for her – moving her household within the city walls to shield her from the grasp of the outlaw. She almost appeared as a frightened bird with her reply.
"I do thank you, my lord, but I much prefer to stay in my family's home for now."
He sighed in resignation, then made another attempt at winning her affections.
"Well then perhaps, you would do me the honour of accepting a small token of my undying devotion to your safety." The Sheriff said as he swiftly produced a golden handled dagger from its sheath under his belt. It gleamed of brilliant rubies, three large ones vertically placed on the handle and four smaller ones across.
She seemed rather startled but she accepted it notwithstanding, saying the Lionheart would be deeply moved for his concern for her welfare. When he warned her he worried of the King making a safe return, she made it clear in her reply that her cousin would indeed return, and then of course, underhandedly insulted him all in the same sentence muttering something about the King rewarding his faithful subjects in her mocking, impertinent manner.
Huh. Not if my friend Prince John and I have anything to say about it.
Later that evening he thought about it while alone in his chambers sipping brandy from an ornate golden goblet in an attempt to dull the smarting wound on his left cheek caused by Locksley only moments after his brief meeting with Lady Marian. I knew it. I knew that was him standing there with her! He wondered why he was so drawn to Lady Marian? Was it because he knew the words she spoke to him were only meant to placate him? That she merely tolerated him? She was independent and wilful. Someone should marry her soon, for it appeared she needed taming. Anything would be better than her continuing to consort with the outlaw. She was one of the few maidens in the village who refused to throw herself at the Sheriff. In fact, she seemed rather put off by him. Perhaps that was what made the pursuit of her so intoxicating to him. The only thing he knew for certain was that she was the prettiest maiden in the shire, and in the deep caverns of his blackened soul, he knew that if ever a lady could be capable of redeeming him, it would be Lady Marian of Dubois.
A/N: I realize that Prince John wasn't mentioned in the film, but I feel it was oversight not to have mentioned even casually, this important supporting character in the legend.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who wonders what could have happened between the Sheriff of Nottingham and Lady Marian. So I hope the readers will enjoy this. The characters as depicted here are not mine, they belong to Pen Densham and John Watson who wrote the screenplay. This story of mine is loosely based upon a fan video I created for YouTube last October involving the same characters. Naturally I'll be able to go into it more here than I can in a six and a half minute video. People there seem to be enjoying it so I figure - what the hell? The title has been changed b/c it too closely resembles the title to my other story here. Anyway, I hope the readers enjoy this and I hope to post more soon. ~*Donna*~
