The Treatment of the Lower Orders

by whatcatydidnext

This is the story of Guy of Gisborne and Elias Renouf, of their journey. It's a story about love in it's many forms. This isn't a misunderstood, sensitive Guy of Gisbourne; here is an angry, frustrated man. It's also the story of the shy, lonely, but valiant Elias, the second seamstress of Nottingham Castle, these are the trials she endures to have, and hold fast to her love.

2. Chapter 2

The Treatment of the Lower Orders. Part 2

The sun shone and it was hot, too damn hot.
He hated the fact that people smiled so much when the sun came out, it made him mad. What the Hell did peasants have to smile about any way?
But it was almost harvest time and was likely to be a good one; there would be money that couldn't be hidden.
"More for little me!" He said out loud and rubbed is hands together gleefully.
Vasey glanced up looking for Gisborne, then he remembered that it was the idiots wedding. Damn fool nonsense. He couldn't see why Gisborne hadn't just raped her to start with. She would have had to marry him then, easy! When Marian had a brat or two she'd forget all that bleeding heart rubbish, get ugly and fat and he could have his Master at Arms full attention once again!
In his opinion, Gisborne was better off fucking the little seamstress in dark corners.
Vasey liked that. Guy thought that his employer didn't know, but he knew everything that went on in the castle. He'd even watched a couple of times. No finesse that boy, all huffing and puffing, grabbing and spurting, ugh! He shivered theatrically.
He considered the girl for his own use, now she was nicely warmed up, so to speak. He did sooo hate virgins, all that screaming and pleading gave him a headache.
She had pale skin, he liked pale skin, and it marked so well. He vaguely wondered where she was now. Hmm could be interesting? He rubbed the grizzled beard on his chin.
Vasey mused on the double pleasure of marking the soft creamy flesh with his favourite whip, and maybe, introducing Gisborne to this one of his own particular proclivities. He was sure the boy would take to this one. He considered himself to be an artist with the lash; lovingly applied the results were excruciatingly beautiful.
His birds twittered alarm calls as he stood up. They saw him coming and retreated to the tops of their cages.
But it was not to crush a Lark between his stubby fingers that he stood. A commotion in the courtyard had gotten his attention.
Gisborne was back, without his poisonous bride! And looking thunderous! Wonderful! What had my Lady Leper done this time?
Sheriff Vasey thought he might have to put off his plans for the little seamstress for another day. Still it could help rouse Gisborne's interest in the Punishing Arts.
Something amusing to look forward to.