Chapter 25

As Emelina crept from the bedchamber, barefoot to avoid making any unnecessary noise, she was immediately struck by the silence. In a castle so full of people, at this time of the morning it was eerily quiet. The guards lounged lazily at their posts, secure in the knowledge that they would have plenty of warning of an attack from the outside and certainly not expecting one from within. She hoped that the herbs she had slipped her Uncle the previous evening at the Banquet had done its job, and was confident that Gisborne would not wake until it was all over, judging by the amount of wine he had consumed. Everything had been meticulously planned. If the stories of the clause were to be believed, it would be another fortnight before Prince John's messenger came for the seal and she had secured the services of a doctor who would swear that he was still alive for the next few days. She could only pray that she had Gisborne's understanding, if not support, if ever he learned the truth. The child she carried was an unexpected bonus should she need to negotiate with her husband for her freedom. The guard on Vaisey's door was slumped, unconscious on the floor thanks to the late night cup of warmed wine she had laced with valerian and sent young John with. She had not told him of her plan. She knew that he would have done her bidding regardless but she did not wish for him to be knowingly complicit in her crime.

The door opened soundlessly and she looked at the sleeping figure of her Uncle, motionless, snoring softly. She had promised herself from the beginning that she would not kill him in his sleep, but as she looked at him now she thought how easy it would be to slip the blade of her dagger into the soft flesh of his throat. Still, it would not be like that. She had always made sure her victims had known who and why, before she executed them. She pulled out the dagger, her fingers tracing the initials of her brother, carved into the blade. Gently she scrapped it down Vaisey's cheek. He stirred but did not wake. Pressing the dagger against his throat she bent and whispered in his ear. It took a couple of seconds before his eyes snapped open and he glared at her, his mouth moving but no sound being emitted. Emelina smiled.

"You appear to have lost your voice, Uncle. Your guards are sleeping soundly so I should not waste your breath." Vaisey staggered for the door but Emelina's dagger spun through the air, pinning his sleeve to the wood. "I am here to kill you – the next in a line of Black Knights who are destined to die at my hand," she said, pulling the blade from the door and releasing Vaisey, who dragged himself to the far end of the room.

"The paralysis is setting in, Uncle. I know you cannot appreciate the flavour of wine so I knew that you would not taste my little…addition."

"I was not the only person to drink it," Vaisey smiled. Emelina shrugged.

"Yes you were. The powder was in your cup, not in the wine."

"Why?" he asked, breathlessly.

"You are a vile traitor. I knew that you would show your true colours if I allowed you to believe I could be turned. Oh, and in case you are wondering, I have heard about the seal and the consequences of your death for Nottingham but that is a small price to pay to be rid of you and your treasonous followers." Even in such a dangerous position, Vaisey could not resist the temptation to goad her.

"And what of Gisborne?" he whispered. Emelina felt her colour rise, her cheeks beginning to burn with rage. Her hand tightened automatically around the handle of the dagger.

"That is the worst thing of all. You have killed almost everything in him that was good and kind. I loved him more than anything in this miserable world and then I believed he was taken from me in the Holy Land. When I finally discovered that he was alive, I find that you have all but destroyed him. You have tried to turn him into a monster as you are. I have so many reasons to kill you but I do not do this for the King and I do not do this for England. They are both good excuses, but I do this for myself and because you have murdered my husband in all but flesh." She turned the dagger in her hand, holding the cold blade between her forefinger and thumb. "Poisoning will take too long. I want to see your blood stain this stone." She pulled her arm back and flicked it, sending it spinning through the air and into his stomach. Blood oozed from the wound and he slumped to the floor. Carefully she removed the weapon and watched as the thick red fluid began to pool on the cold grey floor. She knelt beside him. "He will be a better man without you to contaminate his life." Confident that he would die before help arrived, she slipped from the room.

Everything had been meticulously planned, even down to her clothing. A slight spatter of blood on the front of her nightdress immediately irritated her but she congratulated herself on her forward planning as she pulled out an identical garment and changed before slipping back into bed beside her husband.

It was little more than an hour later when they were woken by a sharp banging on the bedchamber door. Emelina woke but did not move. She felt Gisborne drag his exhausted body upright before muttering something that the guard took as an invitation to enter.

"You must come quickly, my lord. The Sheriff has been attacked," the man cried at some volume.

It took a few seconds for the information to penetrate his alcohol dulled brain but once it had he moved at speed, pulling on his trousers and tunic.

"Guy, what is happening?" Emelina asked sleepily. He stopped as if suddenly remembering her.

"Nothing Ema, go back to sleep. I shall not be long," he said. She did not persist. She did not need to. He kissed her forehead, wondering how he would break the news to her, before following the guard from the room. Emelina pulled herself upright and quickly dragged the bloodstained nightdress from beneath her pillow. Pulling out her dagger, she began shredding the garment and throwing it, piece by piece, into the fire, watching as the flames consumed the evidence of her crime. Now she needed to ensure that it was her Physician who attended her Uncle. She pulled on a very simple linen dress and opened the door.

Outside, a guard stood sentry, stopping her as she attempted to leave the room.

"I am sorry Lady Gisborne. You are not to leave the room," he said.

"Am I to be a prisoner here?" she objected.

"No, my lady. Sir Guy requested that you remain here under protection. The Sheriff has been attacked."

"My Uncle? Was there a guard on my Uncle's door last night?" she asked.

"Yes, my lady."

"And still he was attacked? So tell me, why should your presence make me any safer than him?" She did not wait for him to reply but pushed him out of her path and continued on her way.

To her surprise, the corridor was empty, but she could hear the commotion a short distance away. She stood in the doorway of her Uncle's bedchamber, staring at the scene of carnage before her. Vaisey had been moved to the bed, his blood now soaking into the sheets. On the floor where she had left him, the pool of red liquid was drying but in the centre of it she could see something shining in the light; a red stone, very much like those in the handle of her dagger. She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity.

"Guy," she called out. Gisborne spun around and stared at her. "What has happened?"

"Ema, you should not be here," he said gently. She looked at him, eyes wide, hoping that she looked horrified enough.

"You must call Joseph. He is the best physician in Nottingham. Allow me to nurse him," she cried, thinking of the stone, needing to get back into the room.

"We have sent for his personal physician. I do not want you anywhere near here. It is not safe," Gisborne replied.

Emelina was stunned. She had not imagined that her uncle would trust anybody enough to call them his personal physician. However, there was still the chance that she could persuade the man to keep his death a secret until they had evacuated Nottingham.

She stared at the grey face of her Uncle, his lips had a bluish hue and his eyes were firmly closed. For a moment, she felt a pang of guilt but she was not surprised. Each time she had taken a life, she had felt a little guilt and it comforted her to know that there was still some compassion within her. Taking a deep breath she turned back to Guy, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"My lord, he breathes," came a cry from within the room. Emelina looked at Guy, her blood running cold. She pulled herself away from her husband.

"He lives?" she cried, racing into the room, wondering how it was possible. She leaned over the Sheriff and listened carefully. His breathing was shallow but he was certainly breathing. She fought against the surging panic, telling herself that he could not possibly survive and so would not have the chance to name her as his attacker but doubts niggled in the back of her mind; after all, he should not have survived this long. She could not believe that she had failed and now she did not know what to do. There seemed to be two choices open to her. Run or stay and finish what she had started.

"Fetch some clean sheets," she called to one of the maids, hovering by the door looking positively nauseous. "Guy, please get my leather pouch. It contains herbs that may help him until the physician arrives," she asked, trying to clear the room in order to retrieve the gem and suffocate her Uncle, but it was too late. Gisborne was not listening. The red stone on the floor had already caught her husband's eye. He picked it out of the drying blood and rolled it in his hand, examining it carefully.

"I have seen this before," he mumbled to himself.