I. Bereavement
Bran Ap Rhydderch swung round angrily, spraying water from his rain drenched hair and throwing his hood back up over his face. He felt the familiar prickle of fury shuddering down his spine, and gritted his teeth, quickening his pace and trying to ignore his sister's shouts from behind him. His bag was heavy and his shoulder strained painfully to keep it slung over his back, the bottles and leather pouches snug inside its waxed canvas cover. His sword banged against his hip with every step, but he kept his eyes down and concentrated on the road, closing his ears to Cecilia's calls.
'Bran!?' She swiped her hair back off her face and stopped, staring down the track after him, arms stubbornly folded.
She was tall and slender, and the rain shivered down her face in rivulets, but the fire of her brother's temper burned in her eyes too. 'Stop walking away from me!' she shouted at his retreating figure and sat down in the middle of the road, crossing her legs and drawing her cloak round her.
Bran had stopped up ahead and Cecilia watched as he visibly struggled with himself whether to carry on down the road or turn round and come back. She felt a small smile of triumph tug her mouth as he whipped round and came storming back towards her, a sheen of water following in his wake.
His long fingers gripped into her upper arm and pulled her forcefully up.
'Go home Cee-' he ground out, pushing her a few paces backwards and slinging his bag higher on his shoulder. 'Go home and leave me be, beg someone's charity and live your life. I'm sure some kindly soul would be glad to have you.'
But she stared angrily back. 'You burnt it! You burnt it all and now you're telling me to go back?!' She shook her head. 'What do you think they'll do? Welcome me with open arms? Mad Cecilia and her mad brother! Jesu Bran, you can be a right cretin sometimes.'
Bran let out an irate oath and turned his head away. 'Where's Arawn gone?' he asked testily.
'He's around.' Cecilia snapped, feeling unhelpful.
Bran had lowered his head and seemed to be thinking hard, his hand rubbing across his mouth. Then he looked up. 'Go home Cee. Find Arawn and take a wagon back to the border. I've got work to do.' She looked like she was about to object, but Bran cut across her. 'No. No arguments.'
Cecilia watched as he strode off down the track, dragging his hood back up, and snatching at his cloak as it whipped around him. What was she doing here? She asked herself, as the track turned and Bran disappeared from sight. Trailing after the shreds of a life they'd destroyed. He'd destroyed. She thought viciously.
Well it wasn't good enough. Cecilia twisted the ring on her finger. She wouldn't just desert him. Cretin or not, he was still her brother.
Mind made up, she started to follow, keeping a reasonable distance behind him, reassuring herself he'd calm down sooner or later. The temperature was still dropping and the wind was beginning to pick up again, but with the canopy of the trees over head Cecilia couldn't begin to estimate the time. Soon the trees began to thin, and Cecilia stopped, heart in her mouth as Bran paused up ahead, eyes scanning the track as it led down towards a collection of cottages. If he looked back now he couldn't miss her. But he didn't look back.
Men were reeling out of the inn, their voices loud despite the muffling clouds overhead and Cecilia held back a little. She ducked into the shadow of a building and watched as they stumbled past, laughing and shouting, making sure Bran was still in her line of sight. A man fell-over a few meters away, much to the delight of his friends who stopped to laugh loudly as he pushed himself up, spluttering and spitting out muddy water. A huge man grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him upright. 'Alan, watch your step man,' he said seriously, before bursting into a booming laugh at the sight of Allan's mud splattered face.
'Should have just left him there John-' said a younger man as the group lurched away towards the track, sniggering.
Bran had stopped by the far house, and Cecilia craned out from her hiding place to see what he was doing. He had taken off his cloak and dropped it on the ground under one of the windows, and she watched as he unslung his bag and rummaged around, obviously looking for something. He slipped whatever it was into his pocket and then disappeared into the shadows. Minutes passed, and Cecilia began chewing anxiously at her thumb nail, watching the darkened building.
A hand slammed over her mouth from behind.
Cecilia tried to struggle, but his arm went round her, pinning her hands to her sides and holding her a in bone crushing grip. He dragged her backwards, stumbling over the grass and towards the trees to the side of the house, his breathing ragged in her ears. It was utterly dark by now, and the wind was still driving the rain into their faces, but he didn't stop, just kept tugging her back.
Eventually, she stumbled and fell, and her brother was leaning over her in an instant. 'Don't scream,' he warned, voice cold.
'Bran!?' she gasped, trying to push him away, trying to sit up. 'What are you doing?'
But he put his hand back over her mouth, and pressed her back down viciously. 'I told you to go home.'
Cecilia could see something in his eyes she had not seen before. A recklessness. A fury. She forgot to breathe.
'I warned you, and know I have no choice. You saw.' He took his hand from her mouth and reached in his pocket for something, his other hand still crushing her wrist, holding her down.
'I saw nothing!'
'Don't lie to me Cee,' he spat.
'I'm not lying!'
'You saw me kill him.'
Cecilia stared at him, eyes wide. What had he told her? What had he just let slip? Kill-
'Bran- No! I didn't-'
But he cut across her. 'It's just a job. I just did it for the job.' He was fumbling in the pouch he had drawn out of his pocket, and Cecilia tried again push him away. His hands clamped automatically onto her wrists. 'It's about Gisborne, thats all. It's nothing to do with us Cee.' He looked close to tears now, his eyes bloodshot and shining. 'Sort Gisborne and then I can go, but I can't risk you knowing. I can't risk you telling.' He was mumbling to himself now, furious and anxious, but still strong enough to keep her pinned down.
He grabbed her jaw, and forced her mouth open, his face hovering above hers in the dark, eyes still wide. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry…'
The seeds were down her throat before she could gag and spit them out, and the last thing Cecilia saw was Bran's downturned face before everything went dark.
Guy stared at the villagers as he passed, his gaze sharp, a frown appearing on his brow and his horse tensing uneasily beneath him. Accusatory eyes followed him down the rode and burned into his back, but Guy's glare did not waver. What was wrong with these people? He thought angrily. One day they celebrate my return, the next they turn on me like wild dogs.
As he passed the Inn, men stopped their conversations and gazed darkly at him, several made the sign against evil, their hands flickering across their chests. Guy decided to avert his eyes and pretended to ride on, oblivious to their penetrating stares. But once he had turned past the church and Gisborne Manor came into sight, Guy stopped Alvanor abruptly.
In front of the Manor house, amongst the beds of lavender that Thornton's wife Mary had tended to so carefully, it's pale gold eyes watching him, sat a wolf. Far too large to be a dog, it was lounged on the grass, large head angled towards Guy and Alvanor. Around the animal, was a circle of little wooden crosses. The wolf looked down at them and nosed the closest one with it's muzzle. Guy stared.
Inside the Manor, he could see servants moving around, but no-one came out to greet him. More than a little annoyed and confused, Guy dismounted and looked round for his stable boy.
'Adam!' He roared, and the wolf sat up a little.
The boy came crashing out from behind the stable door, and pelted over to where Guy stood, blonde hair askew and his face a white, petrified mask.
'Sorry, Sir Guy,' he said, grabbing Alvanor's reigns and leading the horse quickly away, Alvanor gave an irritable snort and flicked his tail at Guy. But Guy ignored them both and strode up to the Manor entrance.
His mood was not improved when he was forced to open the door himself, to find all his servants rushing back and fourth in a flurry of activity without so much as a word of greeting.
The wolf had lifted itself lazily to it's feet, and was now standing at Guy's side, watching the scene with apparent interest.
'Thornton!' shouted Guy as he spotted his grey haired steward the other side of the hall, and the man came hurrying over, his usually immaculate tunic slightly askew.
'What's going on Thornton?' asked Guy testily, his eyes taking in the dark clothes of his servants. 'Why are my servants wearing black? Why was there no-one to greet me? What is this-' He indicated the wolf with an irritable, long fingered hand. '-Doing here? And where is my wife?'
Thornton swallowed nervously, and gave the wolf a wary glance. 'Lady Gisborne is in the kitchen, my lord. I'm sure she will tell you all you wish to know.'
Anger softening a little, Guy brushed past Thornton and strode into the kitchen. Alice was standing by the washing sink, scrubbing at plates with a rough cloth, her back to him. A servant girl hovered by her shoulder and she looked up when Guy stepped down into the room, her eyes nervous.
'Alice-' he started cautiously. 'What are you doing?'
When he received no reply, he raised a quizzical eyebrow at the girl.
'She won't let me do it, my lord,' she said quietly. 'She's been scrubbing since the news came. She'll make her hands bleed.'
Guy frowned and rubbed his brow wearily. 'Alice- stop, and let the servants do it.'
But she didn't turn round, and she didn't stop working.
Guy could feel his temper rising. What was she doing? Embarrassing him in front of everyone.
He took two strides towards her, and pulled her away from the sink, his hands gripping her arms and spinning her round to face him. 'I told you to stop!' He shouted, shaking her slightly, his face close to hers. It was only once he had stopped seeing red, that he realised she was crying.
She pushed herself away from him, wiping her eyes with her wet hands. They shook as she wiped them on her skirts, and when she looked back up at him her eyes were still as tearful as before.
'He's dead.' She sobbed, anger in her eyes as well as sorrow. 'You bastard, he's dead.' And she flew from the room.
Guy heard the door upstairs slam.
'Would someone care to tell me what the hell's going on?' He shouted, scuffing a hand through his dark hair.
'She's just received news of Robert Parry's death, Sir Guy. Her father.'
Guy swore, and went and locked himself in his office.
It was around seven when he emerged again. The manor was quieter, and only one servant girl scuttled across the great hall, stopping to curtsey to Guy and then hurrying away again. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
He would go and apologise. Make his peace.
Guy knocked twice on their bedroom door, waiting. He whipped round to face the staircase at the sound of claws scratching on wood, and gave the wolf a level glare. It stared back with it's yellow eyes. Who had let it in? Thought Guy angrily.
He was about to make a move towards it, stare wary, when the door to his right flew open.
'Guy-'
He turned and pushed Alice firmly back into the room, making a grab for the door latch and slamming it shut against the wolf, as it took two paces forwards, gazing at him.
Guy turned slowly, his hand still on the door and a tangle of nerves catching in his throat. Alice stood watching, head slightly on one side. Her hair had grown again, twisted into a thick plait over one shoulder and she subconsciously fiddled with the end as she waited. Guy found himself wanting to run his fingers through it. To undo the plait and let her hair hang long down her back, loose, the way he liked it.
He took a breath.
'I'm sorry,' they both said.
Alice gave a little half laugh, and Guy felt the tension in the air snap like a harp string.
'I shouldn't have shouted at you. You're not a bastard.' She twisted the ring on her finger.
Guy felt a smirk curl his mouth, but he schooled his expression carefully as she took in a ragged breath and looked up at him.
'My-' she faltered, eyes tearing again.
Guy took a hasty step forward. 'I know, Lis,' he said gently. 'I know.'
He took her hands and drew her to him, his chin coming to rest on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. 'I'm sorry too.' He turned his cheek and kissed the top of her ear, her arms sliding round his waist. 'I-'
They looked up startled, as a scratching sounded the other side of the door, and a low growl emanated from behind the wood. Then Alice laughed. 'Poor thing. The villager's are calling it the devil, because it came with the new of my father's death.' She swallowed an involuntary sob. 'Maybe we should let it in?'
Guy looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. 'You're not being serious?' he asked, other hand deftly untying her plait.
'I-' Alice frowned, and then reached up a hand to her hair. 'Guy! I'd just plaited that!' She hit him on the chest, and he masked a smile.
'But I like it down.' He said seriously.
Alice glared at him for a moment more, and then gave up as he met her gaze with a pale stare. 'Oh! I don't stand a chance do I?' She said exasperated and Guy gave a triumphant smirk.
She moved away across the room, her hair now falling loose, and Guy watched as she sat down on the bed, tucking her legs up underneath her.
'Alice-' he began, leaning against the dresser and surveying her with a longing gaze. But she cut across him.
'I don't want to talk about it Guy, as if talking about it will make it real somehow,' she ran her tongue across her lips. 'Tell me about your day.'
She watched him expectantly.
'I went to Nottingham.' He rubbed his mouth. 'Edward is not getting any younger. There are so many men who want his position. The sheriff is an important man, it's an important post. I just fear that there are those not so suitable who are after the job.'
'Vasey,' said Alice bluntly.
'Vasey, yes.'
After his un-scheduled visit a few months back, Alice had taken an instant dislike to the short, snide man. He had been given a post as Lord in one of the local Manors, an honour bestowed on him by Prince John, and he had spread like oil on water, twisting himself into their lives.
Guy came and sat on the bed, rolling his shoulders and bending down to pull off his boots.
'Why don't you offer?' Alice asked suddenly, crawling up behind him and putting her arms round his shoulders.
He looked at her, and then at the floor. 'I have no desire to be Sheriff,' he lied.
They were silent for a while, Alice slipped her hands into Guy's, and he pulled her back onto his chest.
'Vasey made me an offer today,' Guy began slowly, his voice rumbling against her cheek. 'If he becomes Sheriff he has offered me a position.'
'And would you take it?' Alice set her chin on his chest and looked up at him.
He ran his fingers through her hair. 'No. Never.'
Famous last words? Maybe…
Please drop a review and tell me what you think. I got the feeling I was a bit out of practice with this chapter, and it didn't flow as well as I'd like. Robin and his merry men shall be appearing next chappie, so for all you Marian/Robin fans there shall be some reward. Vasey of course shall appearing and I promise more shall be revealed about Bran and Cecilia, and I shall try and post ASAP.