Title: Brilliant Disguise (2/?)
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Guy, Marian, Robin/Gang
Disclaimer: The characters herein are the property of the BBC. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement intended and no profit is made by the author.
Summary: She fought down the hysterical urge to laugh as she wildly wondered whether she could overcome the confused mix of feelings she had for Guy and sink the dagger into his chest in order to protect Richard.
A/N: Assumes a very different ending to S2's journey to the Holy Land
Chapter Two
"You have known him for several years, but I have known him since he was a babe in his mother's arms," Richard said. "He is my godson." (Chapter 1)
Richard graced Guy with an affectionate smile, pointedly ignoring the surprised gasps of the others in the room.
"You look like you could use some wine." The King nodded toward a servant who had been hovering nervously near the door. "Bring some wine and food," he ordered. "Enough for all."
"Come," he continued. "Let's get you a chair." Richard heartily clapped a hand on Guy's shoulder. The younger man stumbled and would have fallen had it not been for Marian. She instinctively reached out, her hands sliding beneath his habitual leather coat and steadied him.
"Oh!" she exclaimed as she pulled one hand free. Her fingers were coated with the warm stickiness of his blood. "Guy, you're injured!"
She began to peel the leather coat from his shoulders, pushing it roughly down his arms in an attempt to see the extent of his wounds.
"Marian." Guy gave a pained gasp and dropped his forehead weakly onto her shoulder. "Have a care," he groaned.
"Sorry." She snatched her hands away, afraid of causing him further pain.
Richard intervened. "Come. You will be more comfortable sitting down." Marian offered a supporting arm, guiding the injured man to a chair and Guy sank into it with a grateful sigh.
The King beckoned a guard to his side. "Ride out to the main camp," he instructed, "and bring back the physician."
Marian shot a quick look at Djaq who stood with the rest of the gang and gave a relieved smile when the other woman's head dipped in acknowledgment of her unspoken request.
"My lord," Marian said softly. "We have a skilled healer among us."
Robin stepped forward. "Now wait a minute, Marian," he exclaimed. "You can't just expect Djaq to −"
Marian shook him off and turned her attention again to the other woman.
"Djaq?"
"Of course," Djaq said in her lightly accented English as she crossed the room toward them.
Richard opened his mouth as if to protest and insist on summoning his physician but subsided when Guy waved a calming hand.
"It will be fine, my liege," he murmured. "I have seen ample evidence of this woman's skills in the healing arts."
Djaq swallowed her surprise in the face of Guy's easy acceptance of her offer of aid and the openness of his expression. Having seen plenty of evidence of his crimes with her own eyes and having little reason to put her faith in Richard's endorsement of his character, she was understandably having difficulty in reconciling the quiet figure of a man before her with all that she thought she knew of him.
Shrugging off her disquiet, she sank to her knees next to his chair.
"I need to see the wound." She stated the obvious. "It is impossible to judge how much damage there is with your shirt in the way."
Marian began tugging his shirt free of the waistband of his breeches. "It's all the black," she said. "Really, Guy, your wardrobe is ridiculous." Her chastising tone masked her worry over the extent of the wounds hidden beneath the dark fabric She peeled the material back while speaking, stopping only when Guy let out a pained hiss as the cloth stuck to his wound. He clamped a hand over hers to stop her movements.
"Marian," he gritted. "It is possible that your skills lie more with a sword in hand or in the council room than they do in the art of nursing," he said in a low groan.
Marian dropped her hands into her lap and nodded to Djaq to continue. The other woman lifted the edge of the cloth and peered beneath to study the manner in which it was adhering to the wound.
"I will need hot water, clean cloths and a number of other things," she said and the King gestured to a waiting servant to attend her.
"This will be hot," Djaq warned as she dipped a cloth into the basin of steaming water brought to her by the servant. Guy nodded and only the slightest flinching of his features gave an indication of his discomfort.
It will loosen the dried blood," Djaq explained as she held the hot cloth in place. After the temperature had cooled, she set the cloth aside and again gently pulled on the edge of the material of Guy's shirt. This time it gave way.
"I think it would be easier to cut this away," Djaq mused, "rather than attempt to pull it over your head."
She jumped back when Guy leaned abruptly forward and reached into his boot to withdraw a hidden knife. He flipped the weapon in his hand and offered it to her hilt first. Djaq took a moment to study the knife. The steel blade was honed to a razor's edge and its handle was of sturdy, unadorned wood. A soldier's weapon. No gems or gold inlay decorated the handle nor did its blade bear any intricate engraving. Deadly in its simplicity, Djaq acknowledged it as the vicious weapon it was.
Guy allowed his arms to dangle on either side of the chair and tipped his head back to allow Djaq access to the front of his clothing and she wondered at his ease in exposing those most vulnerable areas of the body – jugular, chest and abdomen – which are usually fiercely protected by any animal. Shrugging, she used the blade to neatly slice his shirt up the middle.
"I am just going to help you…" Djaq motioned for Guy to lean forward so that she could remove the now ruined material. She leaned close and studied the damage revealed. One long, continuous gash began on the right shoulder blade and continued all the way around, slicing deeply into the upper swell of his bicep and pectoral muscle and ending just above his naval. The wound was deep and ugly and its path made it clear that Guy had sustained it while spinning away from a deadly swipe.
"This wound is very deep and will require many stitches," Djaq murmured.
A tiny sound of dismay slipped from Marian's lips and the other woman smiled at her sympathetically before continuing her examination. Djaq skimmed gentle fingers over a bruise which bloomed on his left shoulder and again over the swollen flesh along his side.
"You have two, maybe three broken ribs," she stated matter-of-factly, "and this will be sore for many days," she said as she gestured toward the livid bruise.
"I see nothing that is life-threatening," she said, "but it is almost impossible to know what is going on inside. If you develop a fever, feel hardness in your belly or begin to cough blood, you must say something immediately." She caught Guy's gaze with her own, leaning forward to impress her point and Guy acknowledged her warning with a calm nod.
The King summoned the servant back to his side. "Prepare a bedchamber for Sir Guy," he instructed, then turned his attention to Djaq. "Please let James know of anything you need," he said, gesturing towards the hovering servant, "and he will see to it that it is brought to Sir Guy's chamber."
"I believe it would be better to stitch him up here," Djaq murmured. "He needs to lie on a firm surface and I need a good deal of natural light," she said as she nodded toward the windows.
Richard gestured to the servant and a long trestle table on the other side of the room was swept clear and wrestled into a position beneath the windows. A clean cloth was spread over the table and Djaq waited until Guy was seated on the surface before she approached him.
"Drink this." She offered him a pewter cup filled halfway with a greenish colored liquid.
"What is it?" he asked with a cautious sniff of the cup's contents.
"Something to help you sleep."
"I have been stitched up many times before." Guy held the cup out in refusal. "I do not need to be drugged for it."
"You have never had so many stitches," Djaq countered. "I need to keep each stitch very small and place them close together in order to minimize the scarring. This will take a long time."
"Scars do not matter," he sighed.
"And yet there is no reason for you to bear an ugly reminder of such a terrible wound for the rest of your life, nor should you have to suffer while it is being closed." Unsure of why it was so important to her, but knowing that she did not want to see him suffer needlessly, Marian stepped forward and placed her fingers beneath the cup, urging it toward him. "Drink, Guy," she said softly. "And when you wake up it will all be over."
Guy sighed, helpless, as always, to deny her anything when she looked at him with such a pleading expression on her beautiful face. He took the cup from her hand and tipped it to his mouth, draining it in one gulp. He grimaced at the bitter taste and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth before handing the cup to Marian.
"Do what you will," he said. "But it is a scar I would proudly wear," he told her.
"How did you come by this injury, Guy?" Richard asked, as Djaq helped Guy to lie on the table.
"Vasey," Guy muttered as he stretched out onto his left side and watched Djaq bustle about bracing two small cushions and a mound of clean cloths against his torso.
"So that as your body relaxes in sleep you will be comfortable," she explained.
"Vasey?" The King directed Guy's attention back to the matter-at-hand. "Where is he now?"
"He is dead," Guy said blinking as the drug began to take effect. "He did not go easily but I killed him."
"You lie," Robin snarled.
"No," Guy sighed. "'s dead."
"You have had plenty of opportunities in the past to kill Vasey and you never took them," Robin growled. "Why now?"
Guy shook his head to clear it. "Because he was coming here to kill the King," he said simply.
"The Sheriff has long plotted to kill the King," Marian pointed out.
"Yes," Guy nodded. "But always before I was able to thwart him or convince him that the time was not right or distract him." He looked up at Robin and Marian. "And if I could not do so on my own, I usually managed to find some way of bringing one or both of you into the picture."
Marian's cheeks burned at the thought of being manipulated in such a manner and Robin bristled at the implication that his actions were not wholly his own.
"But we are supposed to believe that now was the perfect opportunity for you to dispose of the Sheriff?" he asked jeeringly.
"Yes." Guy grimaced and shifted gingerly on the hard table, seeking a more comfortable position.
"Why?"
"Because I had what I needed," Guy sighed tiredly. "The pact was signed by all who would commit treason, including the Sheriff. I wanted to be finished with the job and could not be until Vasey was dead."
Robin and Marian looked at one another in confusion.
'Job,' Robin mouthed and Marian shook her head, confusion evident in the furrowing of her brow.
"Sleep," Richard ordered. "You will provide me with the details when you have rested."
Djaq waited another moment until she was sure that Guy had slipped completely under the influence of the drug she had administered before picking up the threaded needle to begin the laborious task of stitching the gaping wound closed.
Richard gestured for a goblet of wine from a hovering servant and sank wearily into a chair on the other side of the room. A tired smile crossed his face at the hesitant approach of Robin and Marian.
"I am sure you have many questions." He gestured for them to be seated.
"Sire," In light of Richard's obvious affection for Gisborne, Robin trod lightly as he sought the right words. "It is evident that you hold a great liking for Gisborne," he began carefully. "I am sure you knew him well in his youth," he continued, "but we have borne witness to Gisborne's actions in recent years." He paused. "My lord, he is not the man you believe him to be."
"Lady Marian?" The King looked toward her for confirmation.
"Your Majesty," Unable to deny what she knew, Marian groped for the right words. "He served as Vasey's lackey and showed no hesitation in carrying out any of his orders, no matter the cost in lives or property," she said quietly.
"And if I told you he was carrying out my orders and not the Sheriff's… what would you say then?"
Robin's eyes grew huge. "I would not believe you, Sire," he said thinking of the atrocities committed upon the people of Nottingham under Vasey's rule.
"Ah, but it is true." Richard settled back into his chair and took a deep sip of wine. "I have known of my brother's treacherous plans for years and I knew that he was looking toward Vasey to help him carry them out." He cast a brooding glance toward the other side of the room where Djaq labored over Guy's wounds. "I ordered Sir Guy as one of the most trusted of my soldiers to infiltrate Vasey's inner circle and to gather as much information as possible."
"My lord, he did much more than gather information," Robin spat. "Villagers have been taxed – literally to death! Men beaten to within an inch of their lives for minor infractions, or sent to prison for no reason other than not having the money to pay another ridiculous tax. Women and children thrown off their land, forced into prostitution or to become beggars on the street."
Richard winced and nodded. "I know."
"People have died, my lord," Marian said softly. "Your people," she stressed.
"On Vasey's orders, but at Gisborne's hand," Robin sneered.
"I know," the King repeated as his steady gaze met and held the younger man's.
Marian shook her head. "I do not understand," she whispered. "My lord, you said that you sent him to gain information for you, but they… but he…" She swallowed hard against the lump that rose to her throat. "Are you telling us that the people of Nottingham have suffered – and died – under your orders?"
Richard released a heavy sigh and stared unseeingly into the depths of the chalice in his hand.
"Once Sir Guy had gained Vasey's trust, he quickly came to realize that the Sheriff and my brother were plotting not only to steal the treasures of England as I had originally believed, but to overthrow the monarchy by having me killed so that John could take the throne." Richard scowled at the thought of his brother's treachery.
"John has many in the peerage and the landed gentry on his side and it would not be enough to merely accuse him of treason," he continued. "It was important that we have proof."
"The pact," Marian murmured.
"Yes," the King nodded. "Sir Guy agreed to remain in Vasey's household and obtain the proof we needed. It was he who planted the idea of the pact in the Sheriff's head and he who worked tirelessly over the last two years in gathering the signatures of all those who would consent to commit regicide. And with that proof, I am in a position to remove the threat that is my brother."
"But my lord," Robin protested. "The crimes Gisborne perpetrated in Vasey's name…"
"Were necessary to maintain the Sheriff's trust and belief that he was nothing more than a bootlicker who would obey any order given to him."
Robin and Marian each struggled to make sense of what the King was telling them and to reconcile this new image of Guy with the man they thought they knew.
Richard leaned forward in his chair and rested a gentle hand on each of theirs. "I know that this is much for you to absorb and understand," he said quietly. "You have learned a great deal and I am sure that you have many other questions. I promise that in due time you will have your answers, but for now…" He squeezed their hands with his own.
"All is well," he smiled. "And we will do what we can to heal the wounds in Nottingham."
TBC