This is a draft chapter in a posted work. It will be kept unless the work is deleted.
Preview Chapter 4: Dead and Alive Chapter by Eugeal Chapter TextTuck led the donkey to the cave and tied him to one of the bushes growing near the entrance to allow him to graze the leaves while waiting for his return.
Finding that shelter had been a lucky chance: the cave was hidden deep in the forest so it was safe, and it was also dry and small enough to be heated with a simple fireplace. That refuge would allow him to rest for a few days, to replenish stocks of herbs and to smoke more meat or fish before resuming his journey.
The friar scratched the donkey's head between the ears before leaving him alone. He wouldn't be gone long, just long enough to take some water from the river, and he didn't think that any thief could find his mount before his return.
As he approached the river, the cawing of many crows made him understand that the corpse of some animal, or worse, must be somewhere near. He glanced from behind the bushes and sighed: the river had washed ashore the bodies of two men, leaving them stranded on the sandy beach and hungry birds were preparing to make havoc of them.
The friar ran toward them, waving his hands and the crows flew away, cawing their displeasure.
Tuck looked at the nearest of the two bodies and sighed, making the sign of the cross: the man was definitely dead, his neck broken and his head bent at an impossible angle.
The friar took off his coat to cover the corpse, he would bury it later, and walked over to the other body.
Tuck shook his head as he bent down to check, he was sure he would find another dead body: the man's back was covered in blood and the friar could see the hilt of a dagger planted in his chest.
When he touched his neck to determine the death, the man let out a soft moan of pain that startled Tuck.
He recovered quickly from his surprise and he immediately began trying to help the wounded stranger. He looked briefly at the wounds on his back, definitely signs of lashes, and he decided to ignore them: they bled a lot and the greatest danger would be that of an infection, but for the moment they could wait.
The dagger wound worried him a lot more: if the blade had touched the heart or the lungs, he couldn't do much to help the man.
The hilt was tilted, a sign that the blade had entered in diagonal: perhaps it struck a rib and had slid along it without going too deep, but he couldn't know if the tip of the dagger had pierced the lung if he didn't pull it out first.
He tore a piece of the robe he was wearing to obtain a swab, then he pulled the knife from the wound, trying to be fast, but delicate.
He watched the blood that began to flow immediately from the wound: it was copious, but it remained fluid without foaming or making air bubbles. For the first time since he had seen the bodies on the bank of the river, Tuck allowed himself to a smile.
Marian took an apple from the fruit basket and began to listlessly peel it. It was Guy who brought her that basket only the night before and that kind act caused that absurd chain of misunderstandings that had put her in a difficult situation.
The girl looked at the sky outside the window: now it was dark and the first stars were beginning to appear, but Gisborne had not returned to the castle yet.
Marian wondered if he had decided to avoid her. Perhaps her silence had hurt him more than she had imagined and Guy had returned directly to Locksley not to see her.
The door of her room was opened abruptly and Marian was not surprised to see the sheriff who entered without asking for her permission. The ubiquitous armed guards came behind him, and Allan, who seemed uneasy for some reason, was the last to enter the room.
"Ah. I don't see him. Weird." The sheriff said, irritated, looking at the bed. "Tell us, Lady Marian, where is Gisborne?"
"Why should I know?"
"Because when that idiot tends to disappear, I usually find him around you trying to get under your skirts. Oh. Maybe now that he succeeded he lost interest, isn't it?"
Marian stopped just in time from throwing the bitten apple in his face and she just looked at him with disgust.
"Perhaps Sir Guy preferred to return to Locksley tonight."
"If he had, I would know." The sheriff said, then he gestured imperiously to the guards and left.
Marian cast a worried look at Allan and the young man shrugged because he had no idea of where Guy was.
The girl looked up at the dark sky, restless: at night Sherwood Forest could be a dangerous place.
He was dead.
He was dead and that had to be hell: icy cold that reached to the bone while the flames from his nightmares licked him, burning him alive. Guy felt the burn on his back, the pain too strong to think he could bear it for eternity.
Someone was touching him, maybe it were the devils themselves who came to drag him further down into the depths of hell, because every touch of those fingers unleashed a new stab of searing pain down his back.
Guy opened his eyes with a groan of pain, trying to escape that contact, but the hands that a moment before had tortured his back tightened on his arm and held him still.
"Calm down." Said a voice, authoritative and reassuring at the same time. "Now you're safe, but you must not move or the wounds will reopen. Now breathe more slowly. Slow."
The man's voice had a relaxing, almost hypnotic cadence and, as he spoke, he had continued to hold Gisborne with one hand, while with the other he stroked his hair with the gentle and repetitive movements that he could have used to reassure a wounded animal.
Guy stopped panting in panic and began to realize that the place where he was was not hell.
He was lying on the ground on a sort of bed made of dry leaves and grass and he was turned on his side.
The hand of a stranger held him in that position, but, even if he had wanted, he couldn't move because both his back and his chest hurt too much. The bed had been placed next to a fire, but, even if he could feel the heat of the flames on the skin, Guy had the impression he was freezing and he could not stop shaking.
He wanted to ask the stranger what had happened to him, but he could not speak.
"I know it hurts," the man said, sympathetically "but I have to clean the wounds that you have on your back or they will get infected. Drink this, it will alleviate some pain, but it won't be pleasant."
The man lifted his head and brought an herbal tea to his lips. Guy drank it greedily despite the unpleasant taste: he was thirsty and he felt so cold that the warmth of the drink was a comfort to him.
The stranger let go of his arm, now that he was certain that Guy had stopped fidgeting and he went around the hearth so Gisborne could see his face.
"My name is Tuck. I don't know what happened to you, son, but here no one will hurt you." The monk smiled apologetically. "Except for the pain needed to take care of your wounds, obviously. Now let me take care of your back, then you can sleep."
Guy was completely feeble, but managed to make a tiny nod. The monk nodded, filled a bowl with the herbal liquid that was boiling in a pot and went to sit behind him.
"Now try to be still, it will be very painful, but necessary." He said, then began to clean the wounds of the lashes with the warm infusion.
Guy moaned in pain: the friar had not lied, whatever substance he was using to treat him, it stung terribly, but he forced himself to remain still. He closed his eyes and tried to think of Marian, of the sincere and grateful smile that she had given him when he told her that he had sent food to her father.
It didn't matter how strong the pain could be, he decided: he had to survive to see her again, whatever it was the price he had to pay.
He slipped back into unconsciousness thinking of her.
Marian yawned as she walked into the courtyard of the castle. That night she didn't sleep well. When she tried to close her eyes she found herself thinking of Guy. Of Guy who had not returned to the castle or to Locksley that night, of Guy who was maybe angry at her.
She looked out from one of the windows of the porch, hoping to see him coming on horseback from the main gate, but the figure of the black knight could not be seen anywhere.
She however noted some commotion near the gate and she hurried to the courtyard. She arrived at the top of the stairs at the same time the sheriff came out the other door and Marian thought that he must have been called by a servant while he was in his chambers.
Near the gate, a group of guards had gathered around another soldier who was walking unsteadily, clearly exhausted and upset. Two soldiers held him by the arms to prevent him from falling, but the boy continued to drag himself to the foot of the stairs, shaking convulsively.
Marian realized that he clutched a dark bundle to his chest and he had a hand wrapped in a rag soaked in blood.
The sheriff looked at him, vaguely disgusted and the boy stopped in front of him, beginning to sob convulsively.
"So? These whining must go on for long?"
"They killed them! They killed them all and I had to look ..." stammered the young soldier. "They said it was a message to the oppressors of the people and that's why he had to die ..."
"Who are you talking about, boy?" The sheriff interrupted him, irritated by those confused words.
"I don't know, they were masked, they were so many! A trap! It was a trap. They killed them all and then massacred him. Everyone except me ... The blood, there was so much blood ... Each of them has whipped him and they would have hanged him, but then they stabbed him to the heart and he was thrown into the river. They said he had to die because he was the sheriff's dog..."
"Who are you talking about?!" Marian shouted suddenly, interrupting the groans of the boy and everyone looked at her.
The young man dropped to the ground the bundle he had held in his arms and Marian realized with horror that what at first had looked like a bundle of rags, was actually a black leather jacket with clasps shaped like wolf heads, a jacket that she knew all too well.
Then the boy spoke, confirming what she already knew by now.
"Sir Guy. Those bandits killed Sir Guy and all my comrades..."
