APOLOGY NOT ACCEPTED
Rodger of Gisborne wanted Robert of Mansfield to go away. Go away and never come back.
Robert stood by Rodger's bed, gazing mutely upon the younger lad's swollen face and blackened eye.
"I'm sorry, Rodger," he said, after a long silence. "I never meant for things to go so far. I didn't know Peter was going to beat you up the way he did, honest. I—"
Rodger stared back at Robert as he stood shuffling his feet and wringing his hands, his face a picture of contrition. But Rodger was not in a forgiving mood. Rage and disgust tightened the already badly bruised muscles in his chest. The pain only made him angrier.
"Yes, you did," he said through clenched teeth. "Don't lie to me. You knew."
"No, Rodger, I didn't! I thought he only wanted to, you know, yell at you or something. I was mad at you because you were dancing with Eleanor. It was stupid of me. But I didn't know Peter was going to—"
Rodger turned his face away and stared at the wall.
"Rodger, I—" but Rodger would not look at him again.
"Go away, Robert. Don't come back here. Leave me alone."
Robert slowly turned to leave. He stepped into the hallway, to find Eleanor waiting for him.
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"Robert! What are you doing here?"
"My father made me come over. But I wanted to anyway, Eleanor, to apologize to Rodger. I'm so sorry about all this. You believe me, don't you?"
She eyed him warily, arms crossed.
"Come on, you know me better than that! I would never hurt Rodger on purpose! He's your friend, so he's my friend."
"Your friend? Since when? If he's your friend, why didn't you stop Peter?"
"I did try to stop him! Rodger got hit on the head, Eleanor. He's not thinking straight, he doesn't remember. I told Peter to stop, and I tried to pull him off, and the other boys, too. Honest, I did."
She wanted to believe him. She liked him. He was so sincerely concerned for Rodger, and so eager to make things right.
"Eleanor, it was a mistake. All right, I admit it—I was, well, I was jealous, okay, because Rodger was dancing with you. That's why I went along with Peter. But I didn't know—"
"Jealous?" she said. "Of Rodger? He and I are only friends, you know that. We've known each other all our lives. He only asked me for a dance, for goodness' sake. It didn't mean anything."
Her voice faltered as she spoke, however. Were she and Rodger really only friends? Of course we are, she told herself, but a nagging little doubt intruded as her mother's words came back to her.
'Rodger's not your brother, and he's not a little boy anymore. You're both growing up, and someday….'
Robert didn't think they were just friends. He was jealous. Did he have reason to be? No boy had ever admitted to her that he was jealous of another boy's attentions.
She looked up at him. He was tall, nearly as tall as Rodger, and handsome. His eyes were a deep blue, his hair golden, and he was jealous of Rodger because they had danced together! She felt the heady rush of this new, intoxicating power, more exciting than any archery contest.
"Did Rodger forgive you?"
He shook his head sadly. "He's still mad at me." His face was flushed, his eyes earnest. "Eleanor, could you, do you think you could, you know, talk to him for me? Tell him I really mean it?"
"I can try. But I'll warn you, he's awful stubborn when he's mad."
He sighed. "I've got to go home now and face my father."
"Is he angry?"
"More than angry. I think I'm in big trouble." He smiled down at her. "But I will come back. I'll make things right, Eleanor. For you."
He bent and kissed her cheek. For a moment she thought he would kiss her lips, too, and she wasn't sure if she wanted him to or not. There was Rodger, lying in the next room, and it was partly Robert's fault. But Robert was nice, oh, yes, very nice. And he looked so sorry for Rodger. Perhaps it really was all a mistake. And his lips—she'd never been kissed before—
"Eleanor!"
Her father's voice broke the spell. She blushed and moved away from Robert as her father appeared on the landing.
"Your mother wants you downstairs."
"Okay, Papa."
Eleanor left her father and Robert standing together, but she smiled at Robert as she passed them.
Robin was not pleased, and his expression conveyed his displeasure. The answering smile left Robert's face as he turned to Eleanor's father.
"Robert, I'm glad that you came to take your share of responsibility and make things right with Rodger. But let's get one thing straight. My daughter doesn't belong to you, or anyone else. She's not sixteen yet. She's far too young to be involved in a courtship. Nor do you have my permission, especially given what's happened. I want you to go home now and work things out with your father."
Robert hung his head. "Yes, sir. I know, sir. And I'm sorry."
"Go on, now."
Robin followed him to the front door, to make sure he had no further conversation with Eleanor. He shook his head as he watched the boy mount his horse and ride away.
Robert was only sixteen, and by all accounts had been rather coddled all his life. That indulgence had come to an end after he and Guy rode to Sir Henry's estate in Mansfield, and met with its owner. Henry had been aghast, and then enraged, when he heard the news of his son's involvement in the attack on Rodger. He had called his son in to make an account for himself. It hadn't taken Robert long to confess, faced as he was with his father, and he and Guy, fixing him with demanding stares and pointed questions. He'd quickly dissolved into tears as he whimpered out the whole story of his part in the beating.
He had not divulged the names of the two other boys involved, however, nor had he gone so far as to openly admit to his membership in Peter's gang of hoodlums. For what he had admitted to, however, he'd received a hard slap across his face, in front of them and in full view of the servants, for shaming his father and mother, and was ordered to go immediately to Nottingham to apologize to Rodger.
"And don't think that's the end of it, boy!" Henry had shouted after him. "I'll not have you disgracing my good name. There will be hell to pay when you get back!"
After the disappointing meeting with Rowan, Robin was pleased to see that Sir Henry at least intended to make his son pay the consequences for his poor decision. What punishment Robert would receive was not yet decided, but Robin was satisfied that it would fit the crime.
Perhaps we ought to cut the boy some slack, Robin mused. Robert's part in the beating was apparently motivated by jealousy over Eleanor. It's not as though me and Guy don't understand those feelings, and the foolish actions they lead one into.
I remember how insanely furious I was when Guy boasted of Marian, "she is stirred by me", and how good it felt to punch the words out of his smirking mouth. We were fighting over politics, or so we imagined, but the heavy-fisted brawl between us that day so many years ago in the woods near Locksley was really about Marian all along.
And we were grown men, too, not boys like Rodger and Robert. No surprise that Marian was so disgusted with us. I suppose we did look stupid, rolling around in the mud and leaves and beating the hell out of each other. It's a wonder she didn't dump us both and run off with that Bavarian count who made such a fool of Vaisey. What was his name? Friedrich? Hmm, he had more sense than the two of us put together.
Well, Robert will have to prove himself before he comes back into my good graces. In the meantime, I don't want him near my daughter again.
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Robin and Marian sat with Guy and Meg in a small room off the Great Hall, waiting for an audience with the Sheriff. Robin wondered if Guy felt as strange as he did, standing in the same castle where so much of the past drama in their lives had played out.
Probably he feels more uncomfortable than I do, thought Robin. After all, he actually lived here; I was only an occasional, unwelcome visitor.
A guard entered the room and motioned them into the Hall. Rowan had arrived, with his son. Rowan glanced briefly at Robin and Marian, but steadfastly avoided eye contact with Guy. Guy looked father and guilty son over for some time. His jaws were clenched, his hands balled into fists, and a dark flush spread over his features. But he remained silent until the Sheriff addressed them.
"The boy's mother is not present?" Sir William inquired.
"No, sir," Rowan replied. The he added, "She is at home, with our other children. I'm afraid, sir, that we don't have the luxury that some have of household servants to look after our children. We have to do it ourselves."
Marian glanced over at Robin and caught his grimace. She knew what it meant. Rowan had promised to cooperate by bringing his son before the Sheriff, but he had, obviously, no intention of being courteous about it.
The incident was related to Sir William. Robin also told him that Sir Henry had been informed of Robert's part in the attack. They had learned a short time earlier that Robert was to be sent away to his uncle's manor in the north of England for an unspecified length of time.
This news relieved Robin and Marian's hearts as far as Eleanor was concerned, though neither one voiced it aloud in front of the others. Eleanor would not see Robert again for a long time, if ever. She had taken the news hard. She'd insisted, tearfully, that Robert was sorry for what he'd done, and it wasn't fair that he was being "exiled" to a distant uncle, who, in Robert's words, was a tyrant. Robin and Marian were unmoved by her tears, however. Robert would receive the discipline he needed, and she would get over Robert, and hopefully move on to a young man more worthy of her interest.
William then questioned Peter. Both Robin and Guy had expected the boy to deny everything, but to their surprise, he admitted to everything instead. Yes, he and his gang followed Rodger after the fair. Yes, they cornered him. Yes, he beat him up. The calm defiance on the boy's face as he related the events of that night offered no hint of remorse or shame. He might have been telling them what he ate for dinner, so little did his face change expression.
Sir William was an even-tempered man, not given to anger, but they could see that he was not pleased with young Peter's attitude. He asked the boy several more questions, which Peter responded to with a yes, a no, or an indifferent shrug.
In the end, as there was no question that Peter had beaten Rodger and caused him considerable bodily injury, the Sheriff pronounced sentence. Peter was to be locked up in the castle prison for the duration of one week, after which he was to have no further contact with Rodger or any of his family, under penalty of a much longer prison stay.
Guy stared sullenly as the sentence was announced. He knew there was little else the Sheriff could do. Peter was only thirteen. As for his father, he had not directly induced Peter to commit the crime, so he could not be held directly accountable. Sir William hoped the shame of seeing his son punished with a stay in prison would be incentive enough to be a better and more watchful father in future.
Peter was lead away, his head high and an undaunted smirk upon his lips. Rowan's eyes met Guy's for the first time that day. The look he gave Gisborne as he passed him was one of bitter reproach, before he quietly left the Great Hall without another word.
"Something tells me," said Robin, "that he won't learn a thing from this."
"Did you see his face?" sighed Meg. "And he's just a young boy. What will he be when he grows up?"
But Robin wasn't thinking just of Peter.
"There will be no reconciliation between either party today," he whispered to Marian.
"Did you really think there would be?"
"Honestly? No. And I don't think there ever will be."
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Three days later, Rodger endured the bumpy ride home to Gisborne Hall. He walked up the stairs to his bedroom holding onto his father's arm. Anna and another maidservant settled him into bed, while his mother went to fetch him some dinner.
"You've got more pretty nurses waiting on you than a whole army of wounded men," joked Uncle Archer, grinning at him from the doorway. "Quite a way with the ladies already, huh, Rodger? Just like your uncles. No comment on you, Guy."
Rodger forced a smile. Archer had somehow finagled an extended stay in Locksley from King John, and he and Allan had been at his grandfather's house every day, rather too obviously in an attempt to cheer him up with their jokes and teasing banter. He was grateful to both of them, but sometimes he just wanted them to go away, too. It hurt too much to laugh, and he felt like he could never really laugh again.
His victory at the race was now in the dust. Starlight, the fastest horse in Nottinghamshire, was out in the pasture growing fat and lazy, and it would a long time before he could ride him again.
He'd heard that Robert had been sent away to his uncle's, and he'd learned that Peter was locked up in the Nottingham prison, but he felt strangely indifferent about their punishments.
The next day, his new routine began. Breakfast in bed, then a brief time up to wash while Anna smoothed the rumpled bedclothes. Back into bed to rest, the quiet occasionally disturbed by a visitor—a family member, or one of the villagers. A noon meal, another foray out of bed to walk slowly around the room, and if the weather was nice, outside to get some fresh air. A long afternoon sleep, followed by dinner. Books, conversation, his mother and Anna's gentle care, visits from Matilda and the physician to check his progress, and a night's sleep, to be repeated again the next day. And the next.
Day followed day. Days turned into weeks. All around him, life went on. The peasants brought in the harvest, under Robin and his father's supervision. Summer turned into early fall. The days grew shorter, the nights cooler. His fifteenth birthday passed with little notice.
Little John came early one morning, and spent the whole day with him. That was a happy day, "just like old times", as John said. Except for Will and Djaq, all the gang were together, with their families, for supper. Many a story of their days as outlaws was talked and laughed over at the dining table that night. John extended his stay for another day at Meg's request when she saw how much her son loved being with John. But all too soon Little John had to return to the orphanage, and the house was quiet again.
"You're getting better, my lad," Matilda assured him when she saw Rodger lying listlessly in his bed the next morning. "You'll be yourself again in no time at all."
His swollen eye was back to normal. Most of the bruises had faded away. His ribs didn't hurt so much anymore. But he felt tired, and apathetic to the world outside his bedroom walls.
"I'm going to Nottingham, with Robin," his father said one crisp fall morning. "Do you feel well enough to come with us?"
Rodger didn't want to go into Nottingham. Everyone knew. The whole town knew. They'd all heard the story. They'd whisper, and point. They'd snicker, or look pityingly at him, and which was worse he couldn't say. Robert was a long way away, but Peter was still in Nottingham, and he was out of prison. Peter and his father hated them, all of the Gisbornes. What if he saw them again? What if his father—
"No, I'll stay here."
Father nodded and turned away, and Rodger never saw the worried expression on his face.
"We don't know what to do," Guy and Meg told Robin and Marian and Archer the next day. "It's like Rodger's just given up. He doesn't want to go into town with us. He barely leaves the house. He hasn't been on his horse since that day, even though the physician says he's well enough to ride again."
"Maybe he needs a change of scene," suggested Archer.
"A change of scene? What did you have in mind?"
"I could take him back to London with me for a while."
"Archer, that's very kind of you, but—"
"Say no more, Meg. I know what you're thinking. I'll corrupt the poor innocent lad with my bad boy ways, right?"
"Archer, I didn't say—"
"You don't have to." He grinned. "I can be good, you know, when I'm called upon to be. Let Rodger come back with me for a visit. I'll perk him up, get him out of this rut he's in."
"I don't know—"
"We'll talk about it," said Guy.
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"Guy," Meg said to him that night as they lay together in their wide, canopied bed, "you know I love your brother, but he's, well, he's not someone I—"
"Robin and I had a stern talk with him, Meg. He's promised to behave himself if Rodger goes with him."
"Hmm, we'll see. If I hear of any trouble, he's coming straight back." She laid her head against his shoulder. "Oh, darling, I hope we're doing the right thing."
His arm tightened around her. "It'll work out, Meg, you'll see. A change of scene will do him good, get his mind off things. He needs a reminder that there's more to the world than Locksley and Nottingham."
Archer asked him to come back to London with him the next day, and Rodger agreed. The following week, his belongings packed and all the goodbyes said, Rodger mounted Starlight and followed Archer out of the village. He turned and waved a final goodbye before they rounded the corner of the road and disappeared out of sight.
Robin smiled at Guy and Meg. "He'll be homesick in no time at all," he assured them. "I'd give it a week, maybe two, and he'll be clamoring to come home."
But for once Robin was wrong. More than a year was to pass before Rodger of Gisborne returned to Locksley.