Author's Note: This has been a labour of love, and was written for a number of reasons. The most significant reason was because Sir Guy of Gisburne never got the chance to successfully "get the girl" in the series, and I wanted to redress the balance! Just as significant was something I learned from the AddiesFaction message board about Robert Addie wanting to play a romantic lead and never getting the chance. So here's my take on both of those bits of information, all 30,000 words of it.

In terms of the actual plot, I was taken by the scene in "Alan a Dale" (Series 1) where Guy of Gisburne has to collect the sixteen year old Mildred de Brecy for her wedding to the Sheriff. As she is standing by the altar in the chapel, it seems that there is almost an attraction between the two of them, which got my plot bunnies jumping up and down excitedly! What if the rest of the episode never happened? What if Alan never got to Nottingham and the outlaws didn't rescue Mildred? What if she had to marry the Sheriff? What if she then fell in love with the malevolent but sexy Gisburne? Well, this is my take on what might have happened. It's really cheesy, it's written like a bad Mills and Boon novel, and it's essentially a projection of the author into Mildred's character (but I think I've kept her, and the other characters pretty much in character) and it's too bloody long! I hope you enjoy it and take it in the spirit in which it's intended, an affectionate love story that tries to capture the spirit of the characters created in Robin of Sherwood.

The Deathbed Confessions of Mildred de Rainault

Chapter 1

There is little time left for me now in this world. I have known for some time that my life would end long before I lived to see grand children and other descendents. Something within me has always known that the impact I would have would be intertwined interminably with the destiny of the two men who brought me to Nottingham. And so it is time for me to confess my sins, and free myself from the secret that has brought love and pain to my life in equal measure. May God, and those who have been a part of that secret, have mercy on my soul.

It was the winter of 1209. I was a young, foolish girl when I was brought, under great duress, to Nottingham Castle. My father was overjoyed to rid himself of the daughter who was a little too gentle and timid for his tastes. I knew that part of the reason for his relief that I was finally to leave the family home was my growing resemblance to my late mother. My presence was more than a little painful for him, and as I grew older and more like her, he became angrier in his own grief. After all, my entrance into this world had precipitated her exit from it, and he had never quite come to terms with that. The doctor had tried everything to save her, but in the end the Caesarean that saved me cost her life.

As a result of this growing intolerance of my father's, when the Sheriff of Nottingham negotiated a very reasonable dowry for me, my father was satisfied that he could let me go with a clear conscience. Ten thousand marks was a good price to pay for ridding himself of a millstone in the shape of a youngest daughter. I did not have any say in the matter, which, to be fair, was as it should be.

However, there was something that my father hadn't taken into account; the capricious and passionate nature of his youngest daughter's heart. He knew, of course, that I had formed a most unsuitable attachment to the bard who had entertained the castle for the past few months. In fact, my attentions to Alan had been a key factor in my father's eagerness to make an alliance with the Sheriff.

I had fallen headlong in love with the bard who had been employed more out of convention than for my father's love of music, which was virtually non-existent. We spent our days together, and soon the music that so charmed me was forgotten in the delicious melody of first love. However, this was to be short lived. As soon as my father found out about the affair, he dismissed Alan and negotiated a dowry for me with the Sheriff of Nottingham. I was sold to him, and I lost my first love.

I often wondered if Alan came looking for me. After all, he spoke and sang of heroic deeds performed in the name of love all the time. I hoped that he was still alive somewhere, but I feared that he had been murdered by my father's men. I never really found out for sure. Curiously, I heard tell, in later years, of an ageing bard who scratched a living singing ballads about the lusty Baron's daughter, but many rumours abound in the counties and shires. In time, I learned to forget. I was brought to Nottingham, and my old life was over.

On the day I was to leave, I wept and begged my father to reconsider, but his mind was made up. He instructed my maid to dress me in my finest gown, and as the hour drew near of my departure, my tears fell bitterly. I was terrified. What life was I being sold into? I knew the Sheriff was an unpleasant man, and that he ruled Nottingham with an iron fist. The fact that I was expected to marry such a man was enough to drive me to thoughts of suicide, but my faith stopped me. I knew that if I took my own life, I would spend eternity damned.

So it was that I was prepared, with my trousseau and the dowry, for the journey to Nottingham. I knew that my new husband would not escort me personally-his interest in me was purely financial, and I was unsure who would be meeting me for the long journey. I remember saying goodbye to the maidservant who had looked after me since I was born, and brushing away more tears, both from her and from myself. As the sound of approaching horses hooves grew louder, I tried to resign myself to my fate.