I'm tired and overworked (who isn't?), so my responses to reviews will be brief. Nevertheless, each and every one of you have my heartfelt appreciation for your interest in this story (well, all but one of you). xoxo

fiamma71: Once again, another astonishingly insightful review. I swear you know Ajsa better than I do! Thank you, as always. :)

williewildcat: Gisborne's not Satan's little helper, no, yet he's also not an angel either. But we don't like those squeaky-clean heroes, do we? ;)

Margaret Thornton: My goodness, thank you! Yes, my favorite scenes to write are the ones between Guy and Ajsa, so I'm thrilled you enjoy them, too. I'm also glad you like Ajsa, because I always strive to create OFCs who readers can relate to, or who are at least believable. The fact that they're likeable is a major bonus. :D

Guest: Hmmm, I hate to break it to you, but I am not responsible for Marian's death. Maybe you should watch the show, because I'm not sure we're referring to the same Robin Hood. (Also, it's called fanfiction, so whether the plot is "right" or not, I have free rein with it. That's one of the beauties of this genre!)

FYI, this chapter did not turn out like I had outlined it. Guy and Ajsa have a mind of their own, and they would not be ignored.

Enjoy! :)

Chapter 10: A Fire Stoked and Quelled

Life had been relatively quiet in Locksley. Gisborne was often too deeply mired in guilt or grief or wine to terrorize the villagers, and the Sheriff had other priorities, as well. What they were, Ajsa could not guess, but she was thankful for them if they kept him away from Locksley Manor. All those evenings spent biting her tongue, enduring his haughty derision and churlish innuendos. She was glad to be rid of them.

Ajsa was filling a bucket at the well, when a figure caught her attention. It was a man, striding through town with a bow and arrow, his gaze fixed unerringly on the manor. Townsfolk gathered, a mix of curiosity, excitement, and recognition on their faces. Realization dawned. This was the famed Robin Hood, and from the angry blaze in his eyes, he had come to seek revenge.

Her first instinct was to return to the house to warn Gisborne. But she checked it, deliberating. Lately, Guy had been almost kind to her, yet she was nevertheless still his captive. He could have freed her at any time but chose not to. Thus, Ajsa did not owe him her loyalty.

She glanced at Hood. He, like her master, looked worse for wear. Both men were visibly suffering, but it was Gisborne who had created that agony when he murdered Robin's beloved. A crime of that magnitude had consequences, and today, it seemed, there would be a reckoning. Who was she to deny the outlaw his rightful vengeance?

So she remained by the well and watched the inevitable confrontation unfold. Although Guy was the bigger and taller of the two, they were not evenly matched. With each strike, Hood was beating Gisborne. Ajsa winced. She had witnessed several brawls, but this one was different, more vicious, spurred by a mutual hatred that went back decades. Robin was coldly efficient, while Guy used his rage, to his detriment. He was swiftly disarmed, and if the guards hadn't distracted Hood, perhaps Gisborne would already be dead.

In the chaos, Ajsa was the first to notice when Guy's attention shifted to a young, red-haired girl. She moved, darting through the crowd, but failed to reach him before he hoisted the child over his shoulder and ran. She followed him, along with Hood and some villagers, through the forest to the edge of a cliff. Below it, Ajsa heard the rushing of water.

"One more step and she goes over," threatened Gisborne, holding the girl in front of him.

"Let her go," said Robin. "I'll drop the weapons."

The black knight glared at him. "You first."

Hood hesitated. To Ajsa's horror, Gisborne dangled the girl over the edge. The child's scream jolted her forward, but she stopped almost immediately. If her master was indeed intent on using the girl as blackmail, then Ajsa's approach could jeopardize her safety.

Fortunately for the girl, however, Robin complied, and Gisborne let her go. They circled each other, like two wolves, gauging strengths and weaknesses, while hurling accusations.

"The time's come for you to pay for what you did," said Robin.

"No, it was you," insisted Gisborne, his voice tinged with desperation. "You forced me to do it."

"You murdered her," the outlaw retorted. "She didn't love you. You couldn't have her."

"She should've been mine!"

"She was my wife!"

Those four words were all it took for Guy to attack Hood. With a fierce shout, he quickly overpowered the smaller man, whose head struck a rock as they tumbled to the ground. The blow dazed him, allowing Gisborne to lift him onto his shoulders. As he strode towards the edge of the cliff, his purpose was obvious.

"Sir Guy, no!" cried Ajsa, rushing forward. A guard caught her around the waist, holding her back. "Do not do this," she pleaded, but he ignored her.

She looked to the villagers and was shocked by their inaction. There were over a dozen of them. They outnumbered the two guards yet made no attempt to aid their champion. A flash of black in the corner of her eye brought Ajsa's focus back to Guy. She watched in dismay as he heaved Robin above his head and threw him from the cliff.

Then a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere, racing wildly towards Gisborne. But she hardly noticed him. Likewise, she barely registered when the guard released her to deal with the newcomer. Gisborne's yell of triumph echoed in her ears, blinding and deafening her to all else.

Ajsa walked to the ledge, peering at the river below. The current must have already carried the outlaw's body downstream, because she could not find it. As she turned, a hand wrapped around her upper arm to pull her away from the cliff.

Gisborne's icy gaze met hers.

"Thinking of joining the heroic Hood, are you?" Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A sneer marred his handsome features, and he led her out of the forest."I heard you pleading for his life. He was a complete stranger to you, yet you still tried to save him."

Ajsa struggled against his grasp, but to no avail.

"Because he was a good man," she retorted, "whatever you may think of him."

"A stupid man," corrected Guy. "He fought tirelessly for his precious peasants, but when his life was at stake, they didn't return the favor." He looked disgusted as his gaze passed over the townsfolk. "Filthy, stinking people. They left him to die, like rats fleeing a sinking ship. They don't deserve his loyalty."

She regarded him with a bemused expression."You sound almost angry that the villagers did not try to save Robin Hood," she observed. "Of course, that would be ridiculous, since you hate him."

He leveled a measured glance at her. "You presume too much, Ajsa. Just because I've been lenient with you doesn't mean my patience is endless," warned Gisborne. They had reached the house, but he paused at the entrance. "I must go to the castle now, and when I return, things will change."

He saddled his horse and rode off at a gallop. Ajsa stared at his retreating figure, her eyes narrowed in thought. She had no idea what his vague proclamation meant, but she knew it did not bode well for the residents of Locksley. Without Hood to protect them, they were helpless against the Sheriff's malice.

#

It had only taken a few hours for the villagers to feel that malice. When Gisborne returned from Nottingham, he'd ordered the soldiers to search the townsfolk for anything of value. Rings were slid off fingers. Bracelets were snatched from wrists. Necklaces were torn from necks. And even fastenings, such as buttons and clasps, were confiscated. Gold and silver and iron alike were collected in lieu of coins for the Sheriff's latest tax.

Once it was over, once the people had nothing left to give, Ajsa stood by the window and watched the aftermath. Her heart went out to them, because in many ways, their lives were harder. Although she was a slave, Gisborne treated her better than he did the villagers. He supplied her with everything she needed, so she didn't have to worry about how to obtain the basic necessities, like food or clothing. Neither were Locksley's residents any freer. They were subjugated to Gisborne, the Sheriff, the prince, and the king, while Ajsa only to Gisborne. She would certainly not classify her current situation as optimal, but at least she didn't fear for her life.

It was this line of musings which occupied her mind when Guy came home. The door creaked open, then slammed shut, the hinges rattling in protest. Startled, Ajsa dropped the pair of breeches she'd been sewing and jumped to her feet.

"Wine. Now," barked Gisborne, removing his sword from around his hips. It fell to the floor with a metallic thud.

Ajsa didn't bother filling a beaker with wine; she brought him the entire jug instead. He grunted in thanks and promptly drank two goblets' worth. She hovered nearby, waiting for his next directive. He was in that sort of mood tonight; he usually was after his visits to the castle. He would shout for wine, drink far too much of it, then rant about Hood or the Sheriff or both.

This night was no different.

"I hate him," he growled, banging his cup down onto the table. Gisborne slumped into a chair, his face partly hidden by a veil of black, unkempt hair. "I swear to God that one day I will kill him. I'll run my sword through his gut and laugh as he bleeds to death."

Sitting across from Guy, Ajsa reminded him calmly, "But you have already killed Robin Hood."

"Not him," snapped Gisborne. "Vaisey." Then his expression darkened further. "And I didn't kill Hood after all. The bloody outlaw lives, so my usefulness to the Sheriff is nearly spent."

"He survived that fall?" she asked, astonished. "How?"

He glared at her, resenting the hint of awe in her voice. Hood bested him in every way. He was favored by the king, worshiped by the people, loved by Marian... The man had even managed to conquer death. For all that Guy despised Robin, he was loath to acknowledge a grudging respect towards him.

"Why don't you run to the woods and ask him? I'm sure that rabble of his could use a decent cook." He smirked and leaned in closer, to bring his gaze level with hers. "Or perhaps you could console Hood, take his mind off Marian. He's still a man, you know, despite his apparent immortality."

Ajsa's jaw clenched at the insinuation. When she spoke, her tone was cold as ice.

"He is certainly more of a man than you, Sir Guy."

His eyes narrowed. "What?"

"How long did you court Marian? Years? And all that time, she remained loyal to Robin Hood, even in his absence." Ajsa saw the dangerous glint in his eyes and knew she should stop talking, lest he finally lose his patience with her. But Ajsa had never been the most sensible of women. "Her pretty smiles blinded you, and in the end, she married Hood, not you."

The goblet went flying across the room and crashed against the wall hard enough to leave a dent. Gisborne was on her in a flash, hauling her up from the bench until her feet were off the ground. His face was twisted in fury; his teeth, bared.

"I have borne enough from you, slave," he spat. "I have cautioned you to hold your tongue, but you obstinately refuse. Why?" he demanded. "Why do you insist on testing me? Are you so miserable here that you wish for death?"

She met his gaze unflinchingly. If he would punish her, so be it. She would not cower.

"I 'test' you, as you call it, because I can," she answered. For an instant, the hardness in his eyes gave way to curiosity. Ajsa forged on, her resolve bolstered by the slight change. "You claim to be haunted by demons for your past crimes, and I do believe you are sincere in your grief and regret over Marian. Yet instead of striving to atone for your sins, you continue to commit them." Her hand rose, hesitating, before it settled on his cheek. Guy flinched, evidently expecting a more violent touch. "You are capable of goodness, Guy of Gisborne. I should know, for I have experienced it."

He leaned briefly into the caress, then set her down, his hold loosening but not retreating. Though his features remained tense, the fury had dissipated.

"Time and time again, you disarm me, Ajsa," he said faintly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I cannot fathom it, this power you wield over me. Perhaps you really are a witch, sent to torment me for my sins, because not even Marian had this effect on me."

Now it was her turn to look at him curiously. He offered her a rueful smile.

"After Marian abandoned me at the altar, I burned down her home."

"My goodness, no wonder she rejected you," Ajsa remarked. She winced. The words had left her mouth unbidden, but to her surprise, he did not rile at them. "But I still do not understand what effect I have on you."

Gisborne sighed and released her. As he lowered himself onto the bench, he appeared suddenly quite weary. It was not a sight that Ajsa liked.

Looking up at her, he patted the spot next to him. She took it.

"I'm quick to anger," Guy explained. "But you, Ajsa...," he paused, searching for the proper phrasing, "are able to quell it like no other." He gave her a pointed glance. "Which is rather fortunate, since you also seem to enjoy stoking it."

"Oh, I do," she agreed, with a bright smile. "How can I not, when you strut about, issuing your commands? You are so confident they will be followed that I cannot resist not following them."

He shook his head again, this time in exasperation. But despite his frustration, he could not help feeling amused.

"It was a good thing that I was the one to discover you at the slave market," he said, "for I fear you would have been any other man's undoing."

"Or my own," she murmured.

"Aye, or that."

Guy glanced down at her hand, which rested on the bench beside his thigh. He could barely resist the urge to clasp it within his. What was wrong with him? Marian had only been dead for a few months, and he was already considering another woman?

Clearing his throat, he stood.

"It has been a trying day," he said, not looking at her. "I think it's best if I retire."

Ajsa pursed her lips, wondering what had caused his sudden shift in demeanor. He had softened and was beginning to relax, only to stiffen again. There had been nothing untoward about their interaction, yet his behavior seemed to indicate otherwise.

But she voiced none of this, merely dipped into a perfunctory curtsey and bade him good night.

Guy ascended the stairs, troubled as ever, except now his inner turmoil included the green-eyed spitfire he'd rescued from Thomas.