SISTERLY LOVE? A CLUE—NO!

"I wish I knew for sure where Gisborne's hiding out," said Much, as the outlaws prepared a load of supplies for Nettlestone.

"Who cares?" said Will.

"I care!" Much replied. "I'd hate to come upon him unawares in some dark glade in Sherwood."

Djaq laughed. "Poor Much! Come with me, then. I'll watch your back for you."

"You can all laugh if you want to, but I'd sleep better at night if I knew where he was camped."

"Maybe he's left the area altogether," suggested Tuck. "It's doubtful that he's in Sherwood. He knows we're out here, after all."

"Maybe he went back to France," Allan said.

"He's not Sheriff Gisborne, praise be to heaven," said John. "That's all I care about. He's tumbled down off his throne and into the dirt, where he belongs."

Marian sat on a stump and watched the others pack their bags with food for the villagers. Robin sat down beside her.

"You're quiet, love," he said.

"I was thinking about Guy, too."

"I'm guessing that your thoughts are a tad more sympathetic, am I right?"

"Perhaps. It is strange to think that he's an outlaw now, with a price on his head."

"Almost as big a price as on my head, Marian. Prince John has offered five hundred crowns to whoever brings him in."

"Don't tempt me!" laughed Will. "For that price, I'd turn myself in. Can I collect a reward on myself, I wonder?"

But Marian wouldn't join in the laughter that followed.

"We've got each other," she said softly, for Robin's ears only. "We're a family. We support and look after each other. But who does Guy have? He's out there, somewhere, by himself. He must be so scared right now. And so very alone."

Robin wanted to reply, "it's his own fault", but he stopped himself. Marian had always had a soft spot in her heart for Guy, he recollected. Even after the horror in Acre, she had, on numerous occasions, been the quiet voice of compassion while he or the others were consigning Gisborne to all manner of painful and degrading last moments.

He now found himself wondering—had there been real caring, or even love, between his wife and Guy in the past? Not that it mattered now. They were married. Her heart was all his, of that he was certain.

But Guy believed her to be dead. He thought back on the brutal fight by the river in Locksley, when Guy had nearly killed him. He remembered the words "you took her from me!" and the terrible pain in the man's eyes. Was that how Guy truly saw it, that he, Robin, was the real thief of Marian's heart, and the reason for her supposed death? If that were true, he could understand the man's hatred of him.

He smiled to himself as he recalled the strange, almost surreal, encounter in the Great Hall, after he had helped Guy push the prince into the well. For just a moment they had fought on the same side, against a common enemy. It brought back to his mind the days right after his return, before he became an outlaw. He had ranted at Marian after his first run-in with the Sheriff and Gisborne.

"Robin, I know you dislike Guy. But there's good in him. Make a friend of him, not an enemy," Marian had urged him. "You're really not so different, you know. You were friends once, long ago. Help him, Robin. Get him away from Vaisey."

But Marian's words had gone unheeded. The dislike between himself and Guy had turned into hatred after Robin became an outlaw, and over the following months and years their lives had taken very different paths. He had become the people's hero, the admired and loved champion of the poor and oppressed inhabitants of Nottinghamshire. And Guy, the hated and feared bully boy of Sheriff Vaisey.

Two sides of the same coin, thought Robin. We could each have been in the other's place, if at any time we had made different decisions along the way.

He shouldered his pack, kissed Marian, and set off with his men for Nettlestone. His work for the day was to help relieve the suffering of the villagers. But his mind was not on the mission that day. His thoughts came back repeatedly to Guy—where he might be, and what would become of him. By the end of the day, as the outlaws and Marian gathered to enjoy a meal with Matilda, one thought above all others occupied his mind.

He no longer hated Guy. He felt many things for the man still—anger, frustration, and even pity. Pity for a life, now in ruins, that could have been lived for a nobler purpose, if he had made better choices.

But his deep animosity toward the man had, in some way, burned itself out. The demise of his hate had begun in that moment of revelation in the Great Hall, when Guy had let Robin, willingly or no, see into his heart.

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Guy was actually closer to home than any of them imagined. In fact, he was right on their doorstep. After his escape from Nottingham Castle, he took what he could carry from Locksley Manor, and disappeared into Sherwood Forest.

If Hood and his men can survive out here, so can I, he told himself. But he hadn't taken into consideration the fact that Robin and the other outlaws had the villagers on their side, and a well-established network of friends to help them obtain food and supplies. They had a camp, rough though it was, for shelter and warmth. Djaq, Tuck, and their friend Matilda all had some training in the healing arts, when any of them were sick or injured. More importantly, they had each other, for friendship, support, and mutual help.

Friendless, alone, ill-supplied and ill-prepared, Guy, within a few days, was cold, dirty, miserable, and starved for both food and companionship. Also, he was quite lost.

After wandering for hours in a steady and chilly rain one afternoon, in search of game to fill his empty stomach, he became slowly aware that his surroundings no longer looked familiar. The landmarks that had guided him through Sherwood even as a child were nowhere in sight. He fought the rising panic that was robbing him of his ability to think clearly, and decided to give up for the night. He lay down under some low-hanging branches and tried to sleep. But his clothes were soaked through, the rain continued unabated, and his dinner, a few handfuls of shriveled berries gleaned from nearby bushes, had only made him feel more hungry.

The tears came. They spilled down his cheeks, to mingle with the rivulets of rain. He hated himself for what he saw as his weakness, but the more he held back, the more it built up inside him. The tears became sobs, and for some time he sat with his face buried on his drawn-up knees.

When it was over, he felt weak and exhausted, but more calm. I'll be all right, he told himself. The sun will come out, my clothes will dry, I'll find food. And I'll find my way out of this damned forest, too. Locksley. It's toward the western end of Sherwood. I'll head west tomorrow. I'll find it. Slip in when no one's around. Get some dry clothes and food.

I need a plan, otherwise I'll just wander endlessly until I'm caught and turned over to Prince John. Maybe I need to get out of Nottinghamshire altogether. Head for another part of England, where no one knows me. Start over somewhere else. But where, and with what? I have nothing.

He sighed. Dear God above, what a mess I've made of things. Vaisey, no regrets there. At least I avenged Marian's murder, even if I failed to prevent it. But my partnership with Prince John, that's ruined, along with any hopes of ever being Sheriff. King Richard? Forget it. Two assassination attempts, when the first one would have been enough to guarantee my execution. Isabella, my onetime beloved sister, now my enemy. I tried, I did, but whatever I offered her obviously wasn't enough. I can't win her back, any more than I can change that awful day twenty years ago, and bring back our parents.

And Robin of Locksley. Strange how we can't seem to escape each other. Every time we meet, it's a battle, either of words or swords, but we come back to it again and again, like moths to a flame.

I wonder what he would think if he knew that the first feeling I had, when I saw that he had escaped out of the well I tried to drown him in, was relief that I didn't succeed! Would he laugh, and I laugh with him? It would feel so good right now to laugh with someone, even if the joke was on me! Not much hope in that direction, though. He blames me for Marian. If he's grieving for her half as much as I am, then it's no surprise he hates me. I'd hate me, too.

What am I thinking? Sharing a joke with Hood? I must be losing my mind. Maybe that's it. That's why I threw Prince John down the well, and let Robin escape instead. I'm going insane. I hope it happens soon. At any rate, if I stay out here in Sherwood long enough, Robin and his men will find me. They'll shoot me in the back from behind a tree. Just as well if they do. I'll never see it coming, and it'll put me out of my misery for good.

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At first light, Guy arose from his damp bed and made his way through the heart of the cool, dripping forest, this time heading west. The sun broke through the low, fast-moving clouds as a stiff breeze began to blow. Increasingly faint and weak from hunger, he pushed on stubbornly, driven by the will to live even when, as now, life no longer seemed worth living.

Late that afternoon, as the woods darkened and hope began to fade that he would reach Locksley by nightfall, he glimpsed the light of lamps and candles through the trees. His surroundings were by now familiar once again. He crept through the woods and around the back of Locksley Manor, alert for any movement or voices. All was quiet. Saturday night. The villagers would be away in Nottingham at the taverns, or at each other's homes to eat and visit. Unless Isabella was in residence, the manor would be empty, or nearly so. He could intimidate any servants still in the house into silence easily enough.

He slipped through the back door and into the main living area. No one around. Good. Now for some food and dry clothes, and money, if any was lying around. A blanket. His horse? No, too risky. He would come back for it later, when he had worked out a plan of action.

He stood in the manor's kitchen, tearing greedily at a loaf of bread and some leftover meat from the day's midday meal. He stuffed more bread and fruit into a sack, and carried it upstairs to his room. He was rummaging through a chest to find some clothes when he heard voices outside. Isabella, and a servant or two. The voices were all female, to his relief, as he had left his weapons hidden behind the house, and was armed only with the knife in his belt.

He hesitated, uncertain of what to do about Isabella. She had betrayed him, by lying to him about her involvement with Robin. Then there was the betrayal at the well in the castle, when she had lied outrageously about him to the prince, and helped get him outlawed as a result. At the time he had been angry enough to threaten her with his sword, and push her down the well.

But now he was torn. Her treachery toward him in regards to the prince, though infuriating at the time, in retrospect might be a blessing in disguise. Prince John was, in many respects, worse to serve under than Vaisey. He was not so sure now that being Sheriff was worth the price he would have to pay. But, neither did he want to be an outlaw for the rest of his life. Such a life was likely to be brief, and come to a violent end, under the present circumstances.

Could he trust her again? She was the only family he had left, and he was loathe to give up that tie too quickly. Perhaps there was a chance to make things right between them, if he offered her that chance. Still, he was done with her lies, and was determined to make sure she never dared betray him again.

As she started up the stairs, Guy made his decision. He hid himself, knife drawn, and waited. She walked into her bedroom.

"Hello, Isabella," came the deep voice from behind her bedroom door.

She saw the glint of a knife before she saw her brother.

"Guy!"

"Thought I was gone, did you?" He stepped out of the shadows and held the knife to her throat.

"What are you doing? Get that out of my face!"

"You betrayed me. You lied to Prince John about me, and you lied to me about your involvement with Hood. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take it out of you right now."

"Guy, stop! Listen to me!"

"Listen to you? What, to hear more lies?"

"No, I can help you!"

"How?"

"I'm the only one standing between you and Prince John."

"Keep talking."

"I can speak for you, brother, get you a pardon. I can convince him it was all a mistake. I have influence with him."

"So I've seen."

"If you kill me, you'll never be a free man again. John will be king if Richard doesn't return. Guy, let me help you."

Guy had no intention of killing his own sister. His only intent was to frighten her into never crossing him again. But he let her think it, as it served his purpose.

"Why should I trust you after what you did?"

"If you trust me in this, we'll both get what we want. You'll be back in the prince's good graces. And I'll help you get Hood."

"And you think I'm so hot and eager to get back in Prince John's good graces, do you?"

"If you want to be Sheriff, there's no other way. And you have to get Robin Hood, that's part of the deal."

"I thought you were in league with him."

"Robin Hood? Never! I hate him!"

"So, what do you get out of this, if I let you help me?"

"A second chance with you, revenge on Robin Hood, and perhaps, when you're Sheriff, a share in the power?"

Guy smiled. "Always the little schemer, aren't you? You want power, and you'll do anything to get it."

"And you won't? We both want the same thing, don't we? Come, Guy, let's work together, help each other."

He looked intently at her for a long moment, and then cautiously re-sheathed his knife.

"All right, sister, I'll trust you one more time. We all make mistakes, don't we? I'll give you another chance. Speak for me to Prince John, and I'll share with you when I'm Sheriff."

She touched his arm. "Guy, you're my brother. I know we can work together, learn to trust each other. Come on downstairs and we'll talk. I know things about Hood, where his camp is, what his weaknesses are. I'll tell you how we can catch him."

He shook his head. "I'm not concerned about Hood right now. I just don't want to spend my life running, with a price on my head. We'll deal with Prince John first, then worry about the rest later."

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Guy slept at Locksley Manor that night. He was up before Isabella early the next morning, and seated at the table in the dining hall, plowing his way through an enormous breakfast, when she came downstairs.

"How did you sleep?"

"With one eye open."

She laughed lightly and rubbed his shoulders. "Guy, if we're going to work together, we need to start trusting each other."

He shrugged and continued eating. She went behind him to the sideboard, poured him a tankard of ale, and gave it to him. He drank it down, and went back to his meal. She refilled the cup for him.

"So," he began, between mouthfuls, "how do you propose that I get back in favour with Prince John, and get my outlaw status revoked?"

"There's something you need to do first before we go any further."

"What's that?"

"I need you to apologize for what you did when you gave me to Thornton. You made my life miserable—"

"Isabella, not this again! This is a waste of time. We've been all through this already. What more do you want from me, anyway? I had to arrange your marriage. If I hadn't, we'd still be in France, with nothing. In fact, it's because of me that we have anything! I suggest we get on with business. We need to decide what you're going to say to Prince John—"

"It's always about you, isn't it? Just like when you sold me to Thornton."

"It's not my fault that you failed to make the best of your circumstances."

"I hoped for better from you, but deep down I knew that you hadn't changed. You had your chance, Guy. I would have forgiven you. But you don't deserve it. In fact, I don't need you, and I don't have to share power, with you or anyone else. I can be Sheriff of Nottingham on my own. It's already been arranged, with Prince John. He's going to install me as Sheriff tonight. So, what if, instead of helping you, I drug you and hand you over to him myself? I could use that reward money."

He looked up at her, the cup halfway to his lips. She was smiling, a cold, malicious smile. Suddenly he groaned. The tankard slipped from his hand and crashed to the table.

"Isabella," he said thickly, "what did you do?"

"A little something in your drink," she replied. She bent close to his face. "Concentrated valarian root. Enough to knock you out for hours. You should have done what I asked. Now it's too late, my dear brother."

He tried to stand up, but the room was swirling around him and growing dark. He slumped back into his chair, and his head sank down on the table as he lost consciousness.

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Guy came to with the most uncomfortable sensation of being unable to move his arms and legs. He opened his eyes, and felt a momentary panic when he also couldn't see. He tried to call out, but something was in his mouth, and he choked on the sound. He lay still, his heart pounding with fear, before his head cleared and he was able to think rationally again.

She's tied me up. I'm on my bed. This thing in my mouth is just a gag. I'm not blind, she only covered my eyes.

He wiggled his hands, stretched over his head, to test the knots, and smiled despite the gag. He remembered trying to teach Isabella to tie a complicated knot when they were children, without much success. You never did get the knack of it, Isabella, he thought as he worked his hands free. You think you're so very clever, don't you? But you're not that smart, dear sister. And I won't be trusting you again, ever.

He pulled his hands free of the ropes, at the cost of some skin from his wrists, and took the gag from his mouth and the cloth off his eyes. As he had suspected, he was in his room on his bed. Isabella and her maidservants had apparently carried him upstairs while he was unconscious. No one was with him in the room now, but he clearly heard Isabella's voice in the dining hall below. And not just his sister, but others, men's voices, among them the voice of Prince John.

Guy tugged frantically on the ropes tying his ankles. He freed himself just in time to hear Isabella inviting the prince upstairs.

"I have a gift for you, sire," she was saying.

"A gift? That sounds rather exciting, my dear. I do like gifts!"

"You'll like this one especially, sire."

Guy slid behind the door as Isabella and the prince entered the room. He heard her gasp as she saw the empty bed and the dangling ropes.

"Isabella!" breathed Prince John, with a lecherous grin. "You naughty girl!"

"No, sire! You don't understand! He's escaped!"

"Escaped? Who?"

"Looking for me?" said Guy, as he stepped from behind the door.

It was Prince John's turn to choke.

"Gisborne!" He pulled Isabella in front of him, as a shield, and moved toward the door.

"Guards, up here, now! Arrest him!"

Guy tore Isabella from his grasp and shoved her roughly toward the bed. She fell and tangled in the bed sheets. Then Guy turned his attention to the prince.

"Ow, ow!" cried Prince John a second later, as he held his hands to his face. "He's broken my nose! Guards, stop him!"

Guy squeezed his way out of the window. It was a long drop to the ground. He landed without injury, however, and bolted into the woods beyond, with the shouts of the prince's guards ringing in his ears, and arrows whizzing past him.

"Go and find him, you fools!" Prince John screamed at his men, while his hand gingerly explored the damage to his nose. Then he turned on Isabella.

"If he's spoiled my looks for the banquet tonight, someone's going to pay!"

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"Sire, please accept my apologies. It was all a mistake! I don't know how he got loose. But I'm terribly sorry. I wasn't even going to ask for the reward money—"

"Now, don't fret, my dear Isabella," said the prince as he stood in front of the large mirror in the Great Hall, patting his nose into shape. "You almost had him. That's more than your predecessor Vaisey did for me. How do I look now?"

"A bit swollen, sire, but—"

"Swollen? Oh! Do you think anyone will notice?"

"Sire, no one will think less of you for it, if they even notice. Why, anyone who learns of what he did to you will only think you very brave for standing up to the outlaw, Guy of Gisborne."

"Hmm, do you think so? I'm inclined to agree with you. I was quite brave, wasn't I? I wasn't armed, and he hit me. That makes him the coward, not me."

"Yes, of course, sire. And we'll find him and bring him to justice, soon."

"I have full confidence in you, my dear. The banquet will go on tonight as planned. I'll still make you the new Sheriff. I haven't got anyone else lined up for the job."

Isabella, reassured that no lasting damage to her goal was done, went back to her room with her maid to dress herself up for the occasion. All the flirting, buttering up, and smoothing of ruffled feathers had finally paid off. She would have power, real power. And when she did, she would deal once and for all with her hateful brother. And Robin Hood? She had offered her heart to him, and he had scorned it. He would live only long enough to regret his choice.