DISCLAIMER: I do not own Robin Hood, if I did, I would have made a better job of it than the writers who do own it! so there!
SUMMARY: It's about 2 years on, Robin and Guy are looking for Archer. Some one is in the market crowd and sees them. She runs.
Please feel free to comment, I hope I've shown the development of Guy's character from brute to...Man? Let me know if it worked.
York was like the centre of the world. Both men had been to London and Winchester, but not found the heaving throng of dense and stinking humanity as noisesome as York. Hood and Gisborne rode through the thoroughfare with assurance of men on a mission. That mission, to free their brother, had cemented their uneven truce. Though in truth, it had worked better than either had expected. Now a grudging respect had grown for the others intelligence and abilities. In addition, their newly revealed relationship had forged a bond that may or may not last; only time would tell.
"The Pilgrims Rest is just down by St John Street, off the flesh shambles. I know the landlord of old. For a silver coin, he will tell us all we will need to know." Hood swore as a cart just missed his mounts foreleg. "Jesu, but this place stinks, and I can't abide this crush."
"Never saw you as fastidious Hood. Must be all that clean forest air and emptiness you're used to now." Gisborne raised a brow. In truth, it did stink. Now he was fastidious. He found the smell of the market, the open sewers, the market and the people odious.
The market thronged, making their path slow and painstaking. Gisborne and Hood nudged their mounts slowly and carefully through the crowd. They wanted no attention drawn to them. No word to return to Isabella of their whereabouts.
"Now, Ghislaine not so fast, you'll make yourself sick." The smiling young mother with a girl child on her hip, checked the infant as its small hands crumbled cake into its mouth.
"Aye mistress, she grows apace does she not, look at 'er." The kindly stall holder chuckled the child under the chin. "My, but you're a pretty thing like your mama. Not got your 'air though. Fathers?" It was an innocent question, but Elias's heart misbeat.
"Nay, my mother's. Thank you, for your kindness and the cake. Sometimes I think she will burst she eats so well." The women smiled in mutual motherly agreement. Elias kissed her daughter's dark head and turned away to move on to the next stall.
Looking up, she saw a shape that struck a chord in her memory. A shape that moved to face her. Shading her eyes from the midday sun, she gasped.
"Guy! Oh my Lord. We must go now, my petal." She fled down a ginnel that led to the back of the flesher's shops. The city was so crossed with these alleyways and closes that if he did chose to follow, he could never find them.
Guy heard a familiar voice, near and low. He turned and scanned the sea of faces.
Then he saw her.
"Elias." Her name was a sigh.
"Hood, I'll meet you at the inn. I have personal business to attend." With that, he tossed the reins to Hood and dismounted smoothly. "What the…?" Hood sat back aghast.
"'Tis personal!" And he was gone into the crowd dodging stalls and stinking puddles.
"The woman with the child, she was just here. You know her?"
The stallholder sensed trouble and pulled back. The young mother had done her no wrong. She would do her none.
Gisborne held up a copper coin. "Again, do you know her?"
The woman's husband snatched at the money and shoved her hard. "Tell 'im."
She looked resentful. Men, she thought, always pushing you, pulling you. Her husband slapped the back of her head.
"Mistress Crowe, St Jude's alley, by the Minster." She winced and rubbed her head and pointed to the huge building that loomed above them.
"Here, for your trouble." He put the coin in to the woman's hand and moved purposefully towards the great York Minster.
Guy dodged through alley's weaving in and out of the mass of people and refuse that littered the city byways.
She was gone, but he would find her. She had seen him, he knew it. Now he would know the truth. Breathing heavily, anger growing in the pit of his stomach, he strode on. She had left him when he needed her. His life was in a dark pit because of her. Mistress Crowe the woman had called her, she had married Thomas Crowe? What treachery was this? If she had stayed with him it would have been so different. Her love could have redeemed him, his need for Marian would not have seethed and torn him to the point it did. Ye gods, Marian may yet have lived!
"Goddamn her!" Angrily he turned about. He would find her and by God when he did…Then he saw the street shrine to St. Jude.
All he had to do was bang on every door.
Striding forward, he studied the street and it occupants. The Respectable poor! He sneered at epithet, just the sort of place she would be.
A sign, small and prettily drawn, a needle and a spool of thread, caught his eye. The little seamstress still plied her trade.
He stood at the door, he schooling his face into calm. Only the flicker of a nerve at the corner of his eye betrayed his anger.
The knock was brisk, but not urgent. The bitch would pay for her faithlessness.
And door opened, there Elias stood, her hair loose, simply dressed as always, and beautiful.
"Where is Crowe?"
"Guy…I…"
"Where is the traitorous dog? I left you in his charge, and he stole you away. Where is he?"
"No…no!" She looked down the street, anxious, people were looking. "Come in…please Sir Guy." She pulled his arm. "Please…come in."
He filled the small room, looming over her. His anger spilling from him in waves.
"And he brings you to this hovel? Where is he?" Guy stepped threateningly close.
Elias stepped back in front of a low crib, shielding the sleeping child within.
"Crowe's child?" He sneered.
"'Tis not your concern."
He rounded on her, fury flushing his face, his fists clenched at his side.
"The villain stole you away, fathers a child on you, and it is not my concern?" He seethed, his voice low and dangerous. "You jest surely?"
"Shush, you will wake her, unless you mean to terrorize her too?"
"Where-is-he?"
"He-is-not-here," she said back at him. Almost as angry as he.
Guy swung away, looking for something to kick or smash.
"If you cannot speak reasonably, then you must go." Elias sounded calmer than she felt.
"Where is your protector?" He hissed.
"I have no 'protector', poor Thomas went to Durham to serve Sir Richard Deeming. I bide here only with my child."
"They called you Mistress Crowe!" He snapped.
"Usually they call me Widow Crowe. It is but a show of respectability; I have no husband and a child. Would you have me named whore? Oh, I forgot, to you I am so." She swiped at him. "Tom was a good man, and I was honoured by his proposal, but I could not have married him. It would have been wrong; I could not have made him happy. He could never have had my…" She turned from him. Why was she talking to him, he would only punish her again. She could not allow this, she was no longer the simple girl she had been.
"So the child is…?" he snapped.
"Mine." She would not meet his eyes.
Guy caught her arm tight and held her fast.
"Then she is my daughter." He sounded almost pleased.
"And Seth your son! Think you no more of him? Why then, should Ghislaine be different?"
"The name, how came you by it?" He looked suspicious.
"A fancy on my part." She lied; she knew it to be his mother's name. She had seen his precious pedigree all mapped out on a parchment in his chamber at Locksley.
"'Twas was my mother's name. The child is mine then." He sounded resigned.
"What difference will it make? What do you want from me, Guy?
He looked at the sleeping child in its crib.
"Naught, but the truth."
"Your truth, you mean."
"You promised me heaven in your heart...that night I..." He whispered. The anger was not enough to wipe out the memory.
"I heard Marian died in the Holy land, is it true?"
"Aye, 'tis true." He sat abruptly. "I killed her." It was the first time he had ever said the words out loud.
"I heard as much."
There was silence. Elias took a covered jug from a shelf. She poured small beer into two cups and set one in front of him. Sitting down opposite, she sipped the weak brew. Watched him, waited for his rage to resurface.
"She's mine then." He drew a long sigh and looked heavenward. "I cannot provide for her. I have no lands or money now."
"We need nothing of you. I earn our keep."
"You live in a hovel of two rooms at the back of the Fleshing Shambles. It is not fitting!"
"And what of your son? Where does he live? What care you for your children or their mothers?"
"I would have honoured you." He sounded surprised at her anger.
"Married me?"
"You know that was not possible, but as my leman you would have been..."
"Safe from Vasey? I think not. His hold was too strong, your need for the power to prove yourself, too great."
He laughed and pushed himself up. His big body dwarfing everything in the room.
"And when did my seamstress turn philosophiser?"
"You may mock, but 'tis true. He would have found me and had his will of me." She shivered at the thought of the sheriff's leering interest that day at Knighton. "Would you have accepted the sheriff's leavings?"
"Do not say it..." He knew it was true. He had wanted Marian, but when the sheriff gave her away, he had been powerless.
"And what now?"
"I ride with Hood and his men."
Elias was stunned, open mouthed. "An outlaw! Sir Guy of Gisborne, how can this be? I hear you were made sheriff by Prince John?"
"'Tis all fool's gold. He gives and he takes away on a whim. We are not even chess pieces in some great stratagem. We are the playthings of a child, and we await his next tantrum."
She laughed then. "Now who is the philosopher?" For some reason she needed to touch his face, to stroke the tension from his brow. But she must not be drawn in.
"What? Why do you look so?" What did he see in her face? Disdain?
"You look tired."
"The forest offers few comforts and certainly, no decent beds." He smiled at his own wry comment. Sir Guy was not known for his wit.
Elias puzzled over this. Much had changed. She was no more the acquiescent, adoring girl. He was still arrogant, but tempered now with some understanding of himself. And to her shame, she still wanted him. Wanted to touch his soft, now much longer hair.
"You could sleep here. The bed is tolerable good." She busied herself tidying a tidy room, aware he would hear the unspoken offer there.
He stilled her, his hands upon her shoulders.
"I dare not stay, you know I would never leave, and disappointment would eat anything we had."
She shrugged and tried to look unaffected.
"'T was only a place to sleep, no matter." The ache between her thighs was growing apace. How? He was a danger to them. He caused her such pain?
"No, I will not..." It was a thought said loud, and then his hands were about her head, holding her fast. Lips, gentle but firm, tugged at her own. No fight left for this, Elias allowed it, nay encouraged it, opening to him.
The child stirred in her sleep, and he turned, distracted by the movement.
"I have nothing of worth to give you."
"Did I ever ask for aught?" She straightened her back.
Pride he had only seen once before, the night she left him. Pride that wounded him. The pliant woman-child he had used to slake a thirst, fulfil momentary lusts. Who he had used so ill. The blows and words came back to him. Now she stood proud and he, the weak and powerless one. This slip of a girl, soft and loving, had bested him. After all he had done, he knew she was still stirred by his touch.
"I would...stay if I could but..."
"We do not need you to stay, go fight for…what? your lands back? Your money?"
He felt his anger rising, he needed to defend this new path. She had no right to...
"Just go." She felt herself weakening. She watched his jaw tightening. The signs of his anger were well known to her, once it had been what her life turned on. But the thought of his hands on her, his cock inside her...She swallowed hard and tried to dismiss him. "Leave, I do not want you here." But she was damp with longing. Thighs ached for the pounding of his.
And he was on her. Mouth demanding, taking. Hands pulling at her clothes.
To his surprise, she did not fight him, but tore at his buckles, loosing them clumsily. Now mouths open, sucking, biting. Half words slipping between gasps for air. Clothing shoved aside to gain access to flesh.
She found his shaft, bone hard, and he growled.
"I will not let this finish here." He was inside her. Like so many other times before, but now, so unlike them.
She muffled her cries of need by biting into his jerkin, tasting the leather and cloth.
Her pleasure tore through her, a roll of thunder and a flash of lightening, her body tightened and knotted. Only his mouth stopped her scream.
And he went on pumping into her, twisting one hand viciously in her hair, drawing her head back, the other squeezing tightly at her ripe, full breast.
She thought it would never end. The waves of ecstasy that rolled over her, draining her wits, and she sighed into his hair.
"None other than thee, none ever."
As the words reached his ears, he came, his belly so tight he thought he might die of it.
They slumped against each other, breathless.
And their child slept on.
Guy held her in the circle of his arms, pinioned by his cock, still inside her. She wriggled and he smirked.
"Again lady?"
"Never stop." She groaned.
"Very well." He chuckled, lifting her away from the wall; he carried her into the next room and lay her on the bed. "I must see you." He stroked her chemise over her shoulder. Clothes fell away from them both, till naked, they lay watching one another.
"I will come back and take you to..."
"Hush, do not speak of it." She ran her fingers along his throat. "Touch me."
He laughed quietly, low and husky.
"Oh, you will not stop me, I promise you that." His mouth was on her breasts, hands smoothing, cupping, and weighing the softness. "They are fuller, different, and you taste of sweet milk." He nuzzled her softly.
"Your daughter will suckle still sometimes." Then she gasped as he nipped the bud and pulled.
She took his cock in her hand and stroked its length lovingly, wanting him back in her.
Then he was above her. Tongues tasting skin, fingers teasing and squeezing.
He knelt, lifting her onto him, pulling her thighs about him and rocking his hardness in her. She clung to him, kissing his groaning mouth, joining herself to him, flexing her hips to his rhythm. She arched back as her climax began to invade her belly. He held her still, gripping her shoulder and her waist, still allowing her to ride him to the peak they both needed.
His hand curled deep in her hair and he drew her back to him and their mouths fused as they came, together, almost silently, reverently.
After, they lay entwined, quietly holding each other.
"I must go angel. Hood awaits me. I will come for you when this is over. I care not if I have to earn our bread shoeing horses. We will have peace." He kissed her.
Elias, letting her head rest on his belly, kissed the it tenderly. He would not return. But still, she loved that he had said it.
In the taproom of the Pilgrims Rest, Robin Hood sat, his belly full but his temper frayed.
As Gisborne sauntered across to him, he half rose and spat out, "Three hours I have waited. Three hours! What personal business could keep you thus long?" Hood stopped and sniffed at Guy like a dog. "A woman, you damn well went and fucked a woman!"
"Spoken like the true nobleman you are, Sir."
"Well, I hope she was worth it?"
"Worth far more than I." Gisborne smiled.
Elias combed her child's hair carefully, easing the sleep tangled mass into a sleek black sheen.
"My honey, my heart, my lamb,
"My heart is breaking, my body aching."
Tears slid silently down Elias's cheeks.
Surely now it was ended?