On re-reading my last chapter I must apologise, it most definitely wasn't as good as the previous chapter, in fact it was confusing. However, this could be down to the fact that I didn't give the chapter to my friend to proof read! If I've done my job right this chapter should be much more straightforward. Anyway, here is the next chapter!!
"Oh Robin, before we meet again. Bathe" At that Eleanor kicked her heels and the creature set of at a terrific speed, soon there was nothing ahead of them but open road and Nottingham castle gradually revealing itself on the horizon.The clatter of hooves on the cobble stones rattled around the castle courtyard as Gisborne and his men returned. Gisborne dismounted his horse leaving it to be led to the castle stables by a groom; he climbed the steps making his way inside the castle to the main hall where he would find the Sheriff, already he could feel the anger and frustration swell deep within.
"You knew she'd be returning! I just made a complete fool of myself and you knew!" Gisborne burst into the hall, flinging the large oak door aside while bellowing at the Sheriff.
"Gisborne" The Sheriff beamed, directing Gisborne's attention to the figure with hazelnut curls reaching between her shoulder blades, sat near one of the stained glass windows. Eleanor sat and smiled, smugly, at Gisborne the look of victory making itself home on her features.
"How did you reach Nottingham before my men and I?" He asked, genuinely puzzled. He and his men had left Knighton long before she would have even had chance to saddle a horse, and they hadn't passed her on the road. It was though she had vanished and reappeared in Nottingham out of thin air.
"Well. Maybe I didn't stop enroute to evict an entire village or threaten a helpless old woman." She smirked, once again stinging her superior male counterpart with her wit. Eleanor rose from her place and turned to address the Sheriff.
"Considering I've been sat in a carriage all day, I will take a turn around the castle battlements and leave you two boys to discuss 'business'." She curtsied.
"M' lord… Guy." She said quickly flashing her dangerous eyes at Gisborne before coolly leaving the room, fully aware of Gisborne's eyes wandering after her.
"Now, now Gisborne. What happened with the other sister" Sheriff Vasey quipped as he sat and laughed to himself at Guy's misfortune. Gisborne sighed in both frustration and obedience, and quietly threw himself into the seat beside the Sheriff.
"Aww did Marian hurt whittle Guy's heart? HA!" The Sheriff chuckled as he scoffed down grapes.
"If she did, it would have nothing to do with my current unease"
Suddenly the Sheriff stopped eating once he saw an opportunity to mock.
"La de dar de dar. 'My unease'. Well if you had captured Robin Hood like I told you to, you'd still be chasing after Marian and I might get some peace and quiet around here instead of you moping around all day!"
The Sheriff smirked.
"But if it is 'frustration'... there are other ways to alleviate that besides from running after outlaws…" His eyes darted to the serving wench bringing a pitcher of wine, hinting at Gisborne's affair with a kitchen maid a few years ago.
"Say for example there was a pretty girl staying in the castle. Better still; a pretty girl that looks like Marian… Weren't you and Eleanor 'friends' before she was sent to France?" He grinned.
It was true, Sir Guy and Eleanor had been friends, well more then friends or so Eleanor had been led to believe. She had always favoured Gisborne and was rather obvious about it. There wasn't a huge age difference between them, big enough but considering that many girls were married and happy mothers made much younger then Eleanor had been at the time. It was the principal that governed most marriages;
'Old enough to bleed,
Old enough to breed.'
The night after Marian had refused Guy for the first time and declared she loved and was already engaged to Robin; Guy had gotten a little drunk. He wandered through Nottingham castle, wrought with desire, and stumbled upon Eleanor who was staying at the castle with her father.
She was naïve and believed the intoxicated Gisborne when he told her he loved her and sought to make her his wife. She gave up her honour to him willingly under the impression that it didn't matter because she would be his wife.
Then she was sent away to her aunt. Letters arrived from her; Gisborne may have read the first then discarded the others to resume pursuing Marian. He forgot about Eleanor, and one day the letters stopped arriving completely. Did he notice? No.
The sound of the Sheriff giggling brought Gisborne out his daze.
"France. Urgh, she probably caught some social disease you know what those French are like."
In disgust at the Sheriff's remarks and at himself, Gisborne stormed out of the room but not before hearing the Sheriff call after him;
"She always was the wild card of the two" followed by his hollow laughter that echoed off the thick stone walls.
Guy stomped out into the courtyard, his mind burning with hatred at the Sheriff's suggestion and his own memories that came, each stabbing like a blunt knife.
Eleanor had so many reasons to hate him; the empty promise of love and marriage, being fooled into sleeping with him, the ignored letters, his being the reason she was sent to France in the first place. No doubt she would still be sore at him, she had never been one to forgive and forget.
Gisborne's eyes fell on the black horse tied to the single tree that stood in the courtyard a couple of feet in front of him. He recognized his stables signature breed, this horse had been one of his many gifts to Marian, it was surprising that he hadn't noticed the creature when he first arrived.
Gisborne was no fool and it didn't take a genius to figure how the creature had been brought back to him. He walked over and stroked the beast's mane, memories of Marian come flooding back to him, filling him with grief and sorrow. In desperation he looked to the skies hoping to find some answer hidden in then clouds but when his eyes went to the shades of blue he caught sight of something that commanded attention of both man and beast.
Eleanor stood high on the battlements, looming forward watching over everything just as an angel does from heaven. The sun peaked out from behind the stormy clouds and all of a sudden she was shining with divine light of creation. For what seemed an age he gazed up in awe of her but there was no mistaking the look of disapproval she wore when noticing the alien attention. Gisborne felt compelled to go to her. He made his way up the stone stairways and hollow corridors irregardless of whether he would appear callous or caring.
When he stepped out onto the battlements Eleanor had resumed her vigil over the town below and paid him no attention yet she was fully aware of his presence while in her mind she had already begun to work her words.
"Eleanor…"
He back remained turned to him.
"So you do remember my name?" She snapped swiftly whipping around to face him, her eyes alight with raging hatred.
"Four months I spent writing to you. Four months of believing you would save me from my dull life trapped with auntie! Do you have any idea what it was like; to be surrounded by brainless idiots and no word from the man whom I thought would make me his wife!? And why? Because he was too busy chasing after my sister." She hissed then there was silence and the distant rumble of thunder came from the distance. Eleanor turned away from him again, she had to calm herself. She knew to win a battle of words one must remain composed and although her remark had left Gisborne speechless, any further aggression would hold no merit.
"It was a misadventure I can assure you" Guy muttered admitting defeat.
"That, I could have told you." Eleanor replied her voice returning to its own collected state as her rage subsided.
Eleanor sensed that pressing her own personal issues with Sir Guy would only breed further resentment. She inhaled deeply.
"How did my sister die?"
"She followed me to the Holy Lands, an outlaw killed her…" His voice trailed off just as Robin's had in the stables.
"Did this outlaw have a name?"
"Locksley."
His reply came as no great shock to Eleanor; while she had met with Sheriff Vasey she had pressed for news and he had been very obliging to inform her that Robin of Locksley had returned from the Holy Lands, and now ran around Sherwood Forest attacking the wealthy to give to the poor under the name of Robin Hood. Well Vasey had told his own version of the story; Robin was mad, the poor were in fact thieves and murderers. Of course he was totally unaware that the tales of Robin Hood had even reached France. True, she doubted these stories as any other word-of-mouth tale, it had been embellished but if Eleanor had not spoke with Robin before her coming to Nottingham maybe she would have believed the Sheriff, then again maybe not.
Aside from the questionable mystery of Robin Hood, Eleanor now faced another dilemma. Robin claimed it was Guy who killed Marian, Guy swears it was Robin. Both enemies and with men who would support their masters' take of events. Who to believe? Who was more trustworthy: the outlaw or the Sheriff's lapdog? The answer would avail itself in time that much she knew, but if she trusts the wrong person now she may put herself in very real danger.
Eleanor had more reason to hate Gisborne so for now her sympathies would lie with Robin and his merry morons, for now at least.
"Was it my sister's death or refusal to marry you that turned you this cold?" Eleanor commented allowing her voice to be lined with the slightest hint of feeling.
"People change" Came Gisborne's monotone, mumbled reply.
Eleanor slowly turned back to him. His face was down cast to the stone, gently she raised his chin and looked into his eyes; those cold, grey, unfeeling eyes. Guy drew his hand up to push her touch away but when he caught her scent drifting in the breeze he had to pause. He looked at her dark, fiery eyes he felt something inside stir but a strange hue descended and all he could see was Marian.
"You should never have come back" he muttered pushing her hand away. The words had slipped from his mouth and hit them both like daggers before Guy even had the chance to think about what he was saying.
Guy walked away before he could deal anymore damage and the moment he disappeared inside the castle walls, the heavens opened and a heavy downpour soaked Eleanor; as though the elements were trying to distract her from those emotions that had lain dormant for so long.
Slowly, like a funeral march, Eleanor made her way to her room. By the time she reached the door Marian's blue velvet dress she was wearing was thoroughly drenched. Once inside Eleanor slammed the door behind her, barely noticing the cold for the burning hate that fuelled her veins. She caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror, with her wet hair and the feral blaze in her eyes, she looked positively frightening. Her mind flashed back, picking through all those times Gisborne had hurt her, she muttered a French profanity under her breath. Revenge was owed to her and what better way to claim it then to become the very thing Sir Guy both loved and loathed?
Eleanor approached the small satchel she had brought with her to the castle. Meticulously she unpacked the two dresses and came to the more precious cargo; a small wooden box in which lay her most treasured possessions; tarot cards and a white Venetian masque.
Of all these things the masque was the most precious. It had turned a whitish cream with antiquity, with a white ribbon to tie around the back of the wearers head. The plaster-maché covered the upper face, the eyes and nose, with cat eye like slots cut out and curls at the eye edges. But what she loved most about it was the small lion's face that blossomed out of the forehead where the boarders met.
She brushed her thumb over the lion's mane and remembered the one summer she had enjoyed in France. A travelling fair had come to Dijon, with it came a troupe of Italian players; actors, musicians and performers. Many welcomed them, something new and exciting in place of the humdrum of the daily routine. Eleanor's aunt on the other hand forbid Eleanor going near them, every venue whether it was an Inn courtyard or open field was barred to Eleanor.
However, all her aunts measures didn't prevent Eleanor from secretly meeting the Italian actors when the sun set. Nearly every evening she would don breeches and climb down the ivy covered terrace then steal away into the night. By the Suzon river she would find them dancing and singing around a bonfire like heathen worshippers calling out to some foul spirit. No matter their appearance, Eleanor loved them so; the life and energy they bought with them to where ever they roamed.
From them Eleanor learnt the art of deception, acting, she adored the feeling of being something else besides from herself. In the paint and costumes she could loose herself and escape her past and dull present, she could create a fantasy world in the colours. The thought of running away with them seduced her; the colours, delicate lace, grease paints and flickering candle light. It took very little to convince her, she would leave with them, hidden in the wagon among the props and costumes.
She had become very close to one of the actors, Amadeo. He was seventeen, two years her senior. He had beautiful shoulder length auburn hair, warm blue eyes and a slender, bronze body. His appearance was loved by both men and women alike, but it was his nature that attracted Eleanor. Something in the way he carried himself was ever so delicious; he had a dark, elegant grace that drew Eleanor to him.
In his hands she became a marionette on a string, so delicately manipulated by the slightest touch. How she loved him, he was a delightful distraction from her aunt, from her troubles, from Sir Guy.
The masque was his promise to her; to rescue her from her bleak future with her aunt.
When Eleanor went to meet them there was no sign of their camps except for the smouldering logs where the glorious bonfire had once burned. Had they been arrested or had her aunt paid them to disappear? Eleanor would never know. There were nights when the sky was clear and the wind breezed lazily across her aunts home, Eleanor could hear their wild, joyous song drifting in the air but Eleanor knew that for all her dreaming they would never return to Dijon.
There was knocking at the door. Eleanor hastily hid the masque back inside the box before tucking it underneath the bed. Maids hurried in with towels, oils and water to fill Eleanor's bath.
Eleanor closed her eyes as the bathtub filled with warm, steamy water. The rose petals floated on the surface like little boats and just by watching them bob up and down soothed her breaking nerves. Slowly the steam drifted over her, the scent of rose petals and exotic oils filled her lungs with every euphoric sensation known to man. The water barely covered her breasts when she dismissed the maids, and for moment allowed herself to revel in her solitude, something found rarely during her stay with auntie. In the chaos of the maids and hiding her precious box, Eleanor had completely forgotten about revenge, but now her mind was alone a wonderful idea began to form.
A devious grin crept over her face as Eleanor gradually conjured every detail of her marvellous plan.
To Be Continued…
Ok I know this chapter may have made Guy seem more perverted then I intended him to be but I screwed up the ages in the first chapter so I just had to go with it (luckily everything's relative to the time period)
Hope you liked this chapter, not entirely sure what I'm going to write next or when I'll be able to write it as my schedule is currently a traffic jam of school, mock exams, revision, my near non existent social life, and my real exams are in something like 4 weeks …yay... If anyone wants to give me feedback whether this was good, please for the love of god do, and if anyone has any ideas where I can go next suggestions are welcome.
See you in a week or so.
xxx
