THE BLACK KNIGHT
by serennog
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Summary: When her cousin arrives, a man who left her father's guardianship many years before, Felyse des Roches' every instinct warn her to be wary of him. Will Guy de Gisborne prove himself trustworthy? Or is he as dangerous as the rumours state? AU from the S3 finale onwards; eventual Guy/OC.
Disclaimer: Guy is the property of the BBC and Tiger Aspect. I'm just borrowing him for, yanno, reasons.
A/N: Guillaume or 'William' des Roches was a real historical figure. If you'd like to learn more about him, feel free to follow the link on my profile page.
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Chapter One
Arrival
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He came to us on a stormy night in June of 1196.
Marie, my maidservant, had barely begun untying the laces on my bodice when there came a pounding on the bedchamber door. She abandoned me with dark grumblings regarding the 'racket' to answer, and exchanged clipped whispers with the page who disturbed us. He seemed a little cowed, but determination apparently gave him the courage to stand his ground against Marie's chastisements. The boy left only after securing Marie's promise to pass his message along, which she did with an air of utmost displeasure.
"The steward summons you. It seems a relation of yours has arrived, and he requires you to identify the man."
"Does this relation have a name?" I asked, considering the possibilities.
"The lad made no mention."
My laces were deftly redone, and the two of us made our way to the great hall where Jocelyn, the steward, hovered over a man sitting hunched at one of the long tables. All I could see of the supposed relation was his broad-shouldered back, draped with a grey blanket, and a head of wet black hair. Despite this, I knew I had never seen him before in my life.
"My lady," said Jocelyn, finally noticing my approach.
"I hope the situation is as urgent as your page seemed to think, Jocelyn. I am tired and the thunder has given me a headache."
Jocelyn spluttered an apology, but my attention was diverted by the stranger who had risen to greet me. He stood a good head taller than my not-inconsiderable height, and was one of the most intimidating men I had ever laid eyes on. I was grateful for the guards stationed about the room, feigning disinterest at their posts.
His appearance was bedraggled, rainwater dripping from his too-long hair and wiry beard to darken the fabric of the blanket he held closed with a pale, almost elegant hand. There were deep shadows about his eyes, a sure sign of sleep deprivation, and the slow, deliberate manner in which he had moved to stand spoke of a stiffness brought on by too many hours in the saddle.
"This," said Jocelyn, interrupting my scrutiny, "is your cousin, Sir Guy de Gisborne." The steward made no effort to conceal the scepticism in his voice.
"Indeed?" I said, not daring to look away from my 'cousin'. As the mistress of the household, I would not be subdued by his intense stare.
"Then you will know, Sir Guy," I continued, "that I was barely two years old when you returned to England. I cannot vouch for your identity."
"I brought something-" said Guy, speaking for the first time. His French was impeccable, his voice rich; cultured and authoritative. "-For just such an eventuality." He reached up for the back of his neck, unclasping a necklace which Jocelyn took at a gesture from the man and brought over to me. I spared Guy a curious glance before taking the piece of jewellery into my palm, fingering the pendant into a position that allowed it to catch the light from a nearby sconce.
It was the des Roches family crest, with the addition of a word engraved beneath it. 'Remembrer'.
"How did you come by this?" I asked stiffly, meeting his gaze with a frown.
"It was my mother's."
I cast the pendant a doubtful glance. "I am afraid this is not sufficient evidence."
Anger flashed in Guy's eyes and he opened his mouth to speak, but I intercepted him. "You could have stolen it."
"I could have," allowed Guy, tone civil though the dangerous spark in his eyes remained. "But I did not. What other evidence does my lady require?"
I considered him silently for a long moment.
"A little family history," I said at length. "You and your sister were my father's wards for three years. Give me names, Sir Guy, and I may just believe that yours belongs to you."
He bowed his head in acquiescence. "My mother was Ghislaine, younger sister to your father, Sir Baudouin des Roches who I was sorry to hear has been dead these five years."
A little flare of vexation rose up in me. If he had cared for my father at all, he would have stayed in touch but, as far as I knew, the progeny of Aunt Ghislaine had severed all contact within a year of their leaving my father's guardianship. However, I kept my thoughts to myself and allowed Guy to continue.
"When my sister Isabella and I came here following the deaths of our parents, your brother and sisters were all present. Except for yourself, though you were already begot. Your mother was Lady Aaliz de Chatellerault, and the eldest of your sisters is named for her. Your brother, Guillaume, who I understand is away on a royal errand, is the second-born. Next to him in age is Jeanne, then Alenor, and lastly, yourself. Felyse."
I swallowed reflexively at the particular emphasis he placed on my name. His tone was honey, but I had the feeling it concealed a barb.
"And why are you here, Sir Guy?" I asked coolly.
"I wished to offer your brother my services. But, as he is not present…"
He took a step towards me. Jocelyn and several of the nearest guards reached for the hilts of their swords, but no sooner had their fingers touched the grips did Guy kneel before me, head bowed, fist clasped firmly over his heart.
"Lady Felyse. I am yours to command."
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I had long since dismissed Guy for the night, sending with him a pair of guards to stand vigil by the guest chamber's door. I could not have been easy otherwise. The man had left me deeply unsettled.
"What do you propose?" asked Jocelyn, pacing in front of the fireplace. We had removed to the solar shortly after Guy's parting to discuss the matter further, and in private.
I sighed, kneading my forehead. "I will write to Guillaume for advice. In the meantime, Sir Guy should remain here as our guest."
"But the man is not to be trusted!" protested Jocelyn, earning himself a scowl as Marie returned with the willow bark tea I had requested.
"I have sweetened it with honey," said my maidservant kindly, placing the earthenware stein in my hands. The mention of honey brought an image of the partial reason for my headache to mind; all darkness and lustre. I forced a smile and thanked her, leaving the tea on a side table to cool.
"I am aware of this," I quietly assured the irritable steward. "But at the same time, he is only one man. I do not see the harm in it."
"But the stories I have heard-"
"And stories are more often exaggerated than not."
Jocelyn exhaled loudly through his nose. "Even so, he will not sit quietly. He does not strike me as an idle man."
"Neither does he strike me as a simpleton," I said, perhaps a little too sharply. "He knows I am not in any position to decide his fate. He will have to sit quietly until Guillaume's return. Or at the very least until I receive a reply to my letter. And speaking of…" I rose from the settle, retrieving my tea. "I will take my leave to write said letter. Goodnight, Jocelyn."
The steward bid me the same, sounding sullen.
Marie and I returned to my bedchamber, silent until she had shut the door behind us.
"I do not like this, mistress," said Marie, wringing her hands. "I do not like this at all."
I said nothing, dipping a taper in the fire to light the candle on my writing desk.
"I heard the guards talking when I went to prepare your tea," resumed my maidservant in an anxious hush. "The ones who first saw him. A black rider on a black steed is what they perceived, having materialised from the darkness like a demon. They say his arrival is a bad omen."
"He is just a man," I said, not entirely sure of whom I was trying to convince. Marie, for her part, looked dubious.
"Pray your brother returns soon."
Sitting at my desk with parchment and quill ready, I reached for my tea and took a cautious sip. Regardless of the sweetener, it left a bitter aftertaste.
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TBC.