9. A Woman with Fine Features

The rays of the cruel sun beat upon the hot sand of the desert. The air was thick and hazy, their steps sunk into the searing soil. Uncontrolled anger was choking him, his sweaty hand clentched the hilt of his sword. I cared for you!, he wanted to scream. You were everything for me! She took one step away from him, her upper lip curved with disdain. „I would rather die than be with you, Guy of Gisborne! I am going to marry Robin Hood. I love Robin Hood. I love... Robin Hood." Her brilliant, grey eyes - no! Marian's eyes were the myriad shades of blue like the summer sky – radiated mockery, humiliation, aversion. He could not bear it any more. He gave a roar of burning rage and stumbled one step after her, blind from pain, his hand moved by itself... her mass of red hair, long waves of molten fire swirled around her in the light... she grasped for air as the sword run through her soft body... she fell into his outstretched arms with a silent sigh... No! Heather! Heather, my...

He woke up panting in helpless terror, his heart was hammering. He was shaking violently, his breath came in short gasps. He sat up, struggling to regulate his breathing. Hot tears were burning his eyes.

The sun was up. A beacon of cold, morning light pierced through the mullioned panes of glass. As his racing heart slowed down, he got up and started to dress.

Heather was waiting for him with a radiant smile on her face in the inn's dining hall when he walked down the cracking, old stairs. Guy regarded her with an emotionless expression. He spoke with a flat, lifeless tone.

„I am pleased to see you up and ready to continue our journey, my lady." He turned to Tom who was comfortably curled up on the wooden bench. Cold ashes were smoldering in the great fireplace. „Go and fetch our horses!"

Heather's smile faded. „But... I thought..."

„What?" Guy snapped bitterly. „What did you think?"

She turned away, unable to look at him.

„I thought... we had an understanding last night. Your implications suggested... that you would let me go free."

His eye twitched but his face remained expressionless.

„Well, you had mistaken my implications," he responded dryly. „I have promised you nothing." Liar. „Do not question my loyalty. If the Sheriff knew I was about to let you go, my life would be in danger."

„Why do you work for him?" Desperation lingered in her voice. She looked up into his sombre, inscrutable face. Guy stood tense and motionless, with his armed crossed.

„I have nobody."

„So you choose him?"

Guy turned away with cold fury. He knew his dream came as a warning. Its intensity was still haunting him. How could he believe she felt anything for him? She tried to deceive him with her sweet lies. She cared for „Robin", her devoted, lost friend, not for him. He never expected her words to hurt him so much, it felt like a thousant knives just pierced through his heart.

„So I chose power. He is my route to position, standing."

„He is cruel and heartless, you know that?" Heather did not want to give it up so easily. She bit her lower lip to control tears. Guy still refused to raise his eyes to look at her.

„Maybe. Or maybe he is smart. He does not allow distractions to divert him from his cause. So should not I."

„Distractions? Like a little humanity?" she lashed out. She was angry now, Guy could tell.

„Humanity is weakness," he retorted coldly.

„Guy... You can't believe that."

„End of discussion. We must leave at once."

Thick, heavy silence descended upon them, oh so much different from last night's warm, intimate quietness. An invisible barrier rose between them. Then Heather raised her chin. She was trembling visibly.

„I have heard aspersions cast on your honesty, my lord," she said bitterly. „I was unwilling to give them any credit. But now... I know you are a coward and your heart is just as black and evil as they claimed it was. I never want to see you again in my life."

She turned and headed for the front door. Guy watched her go and saw her square her slender shoulders as she went. And that gesture went to his heart, more than any words she had spoken.


After a few hours of hard riding they reached the crossroad between Doncaster and Barnsdale. This was the meeting place Heather was to be handed over to the men of Sir Roderick. A small group of guards were waiting in the dim shade of the bushes. Guy reined in so suddenly his black stallion went back on its haunches, pawing the air. He signed to their retinue to stop.

A man left the team and walked towards them. He was powerfully built, nearly six and a half feet tall, a giant of a man, heavy of barrel and thick of neck. His face was mostly obscured by a black, shaggy beard.

"Sir Guy!" he rumbled over the distance. "I am pleased to have you finally arrived! Where is my lovely betrothed?"

Guy turned to help Heather and had found her already dismounted. Grooms were coming forward for her mare. He peeled off his gloves and handed them to Tom. Sir Roderick hurried forward and stopped in front of Heather. His big hearty voice billowed out.

"There you are, my shy flower! My word, but you are a woman with fine features! Where could the Sheriff find such a beauty I wonder?" He raised her chin with his index finger. "Remarkable eyes, eh? And a profitable fortune as well."

Heather could feel the heat growing in her cheeks. Sir Roderick inspected her like a horse trader examines a horse's part. She felt Guy stiffen next to her.

"I shall leave two of my men to escort back the wagon later," he offered. He mounted again, ready to leave.

"Yes, yes," mumbled the knight with approval. He waved to his guards. "To horse!" Then he turned his large head to Heather again. "And you, my little bud, get in the wagon at once!"

She gave him a startled smile. "I prefer riding, my lord."

"Nonsense!" Sir Roderick boomed. He gripped her upper arm firmly. "I do not tolerate disobedience, my honeybee. Get into the wagon, I said," he commanded.

Heather's face did not change but her lips went very white. She let him lead her away without any further objection. When her hand went out for the handle she took a final look over her shoulder.

Guy spurred his horse and never looked back at her.