Guy slowed his horse as he entered through the castle gate. A flurry of activity swarmed the courtyard, and Guy recognized one thing: a familiar—and empty—cart stationary in front of the castle steps. Four or five soldiers carried the still unconscious body of Captain Atwood up the stairs slowly, laboring over each step they took. Quickly dismounting, Guy raced up the stairs, following the group as they entered into the castle. And meeting the unpleasant and displeased face of the Sheriff.
"Good Morning, Gisborne. I trust you enjoyed your holiday yesterday," his wrinkled face even more sour as he turned to watch the men carry Atwood's body in front of him.
Guy caught his breath, "What's happened here, my lord Sheriff?"
The Sheriff placed his fist over his mouth and cleared his throat, "Well, apparently, Captain Atwood has met with some… foul play."
"Doing what, my lord?" Guy inconspicuously asked, still staring after the soldiers.
"Some, trifle of a mission for me. Nothing out of the ordinary, Gisborne," the Sheriff replied waving his hand and spinning on his heel to follow the men. "But, let me tell you, Gisborne, Captain Atwood has failed me for the last time."
Guy suppressed the beginnings of a smirk, "But my lord Sheriff, wouldn't that have been his first mission for you?"
"Then he has failed me for the first… and last… time." The Sheriff paused in the middle of the hallway. "Nonetheless, I suppose I will at least send for my physician. Atwood received quite the thrashing last night, it would seem." He turned to face Guy, his dark eyes glinting with cunning, "Why don't you follow the men, hmm? Go and… take care… of Atwood."
His breath caught in his throat, "With pleasure, my lord Sheriff," Guy replied.
"Oh, and Gisborne," the Sheriff added, his voice barely audible as he placed his hand on Guy's folded arms, "If you so happen to find out who did this to our… beloved captain… you will inform me immediately."
"Yes my lord Sheriff," Guy answered, stalking off after Atwood's body. He caught up with the soldiers just outside of a bedroom door, opening it wide to let the men enter and set Atwood down on the mattress with a resounding thud. "Well done, men," Guy spoke as he ushered the soldiers out of the room, "I want one of you to stand guard down the corridor. Let me know the very moment you see the physician coming, understand?"
"Yes, Sir Guy," they all saluted, walking off down the hall.
Guy permitted himself a smirk as he shut the door, drawing the bolt securely. Then, he turned his attention to the boy.
His face contorting in pain and his limbs stirring, Atwood was waking up. "Damn," Guy cursed as he scanned the boy's body, wondering where to stab him. This boy's death had to appear to be from his wounds. Not from Guy's dagger, and not by the Sheriff's orders.
Atwood's hazel eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused, "Wh-where am I?" His gaze focused on Guy by the bedside, not noticing his gloved hand clutched on his dagger's hilt. "Sir Guy?"
Guy nodded. And to his surprise, the boy laughed as he began to gingerly feel along his bruised cheeks and jaw.
"What a surprise," Atwood's high-pitched voice growing stronger by the second, "I wake from my beating to find the very man who beat me and abandoned me to a merciless outlaw."
His gaze narrowing, Guy sneered at the boy, "What do you mean abandoned you? You don't deserve my help."
"You left me to die. You left me alone with the Nightwatchman who threw me into the cart, spooked the horse, and knocked me out again. I assume I've somehow made it back to Nottingham, apparently in one piece." Atwood flexed his arms and searched them for wounds as well, "Well, I suppose if I'm in the castle, I'd like to see the Sheriff. I believe there's something I need to inform him of, don't you, Sir Guy?"
Guy snarled as he leaned over Atwood's puffy and bruised face, "You wouldn't dare. Did my last punch to your head make you forget my threat, Atwood?"
Atwood scoffed, "You wouldn't dare kill me in the castle. I would bet that the Sheriff has already sent for his physician for me." Guy sniffed. "I see I am right," Atwood continued, smiling at Guy's reaction.
A slow sneer drawing across Guy's face made Atwood pause. "Yes, the physician has been sent for. Now, what do you want in return for your silence?" Guy straightened as he asked his question, turning away from the bed.
"I want you to recommend me for the title of Master at Arms," Atwood answered, lying back on the bed with his arms behind his head.
With a scoff, Guy turned his head to look at the boy, "And what makes you think the Sheriff would grant you that title, after you failed his mission?"
"I failed because of you… and, I think I understand the Sheriff well enough to know that he wouldn't take too kindly to that information, now would he?" Atwood closed his eyes, feeling a surge of confidence, "You see, one week at the castle, and I already know how to play the politics here, Sir Guy. Exploit those who know more than you do, gather they're secrets, and don't apologize, isn't that accurate?"
Guy chuckled, "Very accurate, Captain. But I'm afraid you haven't learned the most applicable lesson here."
"Oh, and what's that?" Atwood asked, his eyes still closed.
"Never anger the man who knows where all the bodies are buried. And that's me. Literally." Guy unsheathed his dagger, driving it once into Atwood's side beneath his arm. Atwood let out a gurgle of pain as his panicked eyes turned to face Guy who still held the blade in his side. "The Sheriff would like to inform you that your services are no longer required," and with that, he twisted the blade deeper in the wound, drawing it out and wiping it on the bed linen.
With one final spasm, Atwood let out his dying breath, his eyes fixated open on the ceiling above him. His blood soaked the linens of the bed, the crimson streaks spreading out from the wound. Guy ran to the door, opening it and calling out for the guard down the hall. "Send for the Sheriff, Captain Atwood is dead," he yelled, standing in the doorframe.
A few seconds later the Sheriff turned the corner of the hall, "No need to shout, Gisborne, I'm already here." He slowly walked up to Guy and peered around him, seeing the bloodied mess on the bed, "Tsk tsk Gisborne. Such a violent death."
"He had many wounds and bruises, my lord," Guy replied, throwing a quick glance at the soldier just a few feet away from them. He fought the rising anxiety inside him, knowing he was almost through, that he and Catrine were almost safe. "He did come to for a moment before he died, though."
"Yes? And what did he confide in you, Gisborne?" The Sheriff's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he asked the question.
Guy took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully, "He said he was attacked by the Nightwatchman. Nothing more. His wounds were bleeding profusely, and he breathed his last before he could say another word."
"Excellent!" the Sheriff exclaimed, clapping his hands together once, "I mean… his death is a great loss to us. No matter," he began walking down the hall and paused before the guard, "arrange the funeral, have him buried, tell his family, blah-di-blah-di-blah."
The guard nodded and walked off in the opposite direction.
Clasping his hand behind his back, the Sheriff turned to face Guy, bouncing up and down on he toes, "Tell me, Gisborne, is it good to be back?"
Guy smirked, "Yes, my lord Sheriff," he answered following after the Sheriff. He couldn't wait to tell Catrine the news. To tell her they had won. And to celebrate their victory.