Shortly after Carter had left for the camp, King Richard turned to Guy. "I would like to view the sheriff's body."
Guy winced inwardly, but his face remained impassive. He rose and gestured toward the door. "Of course, sire."
Meg grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze before he could follow the king into the corridor. He started, still unused to sudden displays of affection like that. But rather than instantly pulling his hand away, as he would have done a few weeks ago, he gave her a small smile before removing it gently.
As Guy trailed after Richard, he found his feet reluctant to move; each step felt as if his legs were made of lead. It was not an unfamiliar sensation; often at the beginning of his tenure with Vaizey, and also near the end, it was as if his body was telling his mind that he should not be doing this. Now, he knew that he was doing nothing wrong, but the suggestion this time was that he could not face what he had done.
The doors to the Great Hall loomed ahead, and his heart thudded in his ears. But as he had done so many times before, he merely lifted his chin and pressed onward. Generally, he had found that if he focused on keeping his chin up, he could ignore what he was doing until he grew accustomed to it, or even started liking it.
Once he entered the hall and his eyes fell upon the lumpy sheet draped over the long table at the end of the room, his steps slowed. He felt his blade slide neatly through a man he had viewed as a mentor, nearly as a father, for so many years; the sword honed to such precision sharpness that it was like slicing through butter.
Guy's eyelids fluttered shut as he came to a halt.
He had moved so quickly that he had not thought to control his thrust, and the hilt slammed against Vaizey's ribcage, jostling him forward as the blade severed his vital organs. Realizing the force of his hit, Guy instantly pulled back, as if that would somehow make it better.
Vaizey staggered before the bow dropped from his fingers, yew clattering against stone as it hit the floor. The sound of his blood splattering beside the bow was wetter, more sinister, and Guy gaped at the sight of crimson on grey as if he had never witnessed such a sight, while the sheriff turned to face him.
When Guy finally met his gaze, he expected surprise or betrayal. Instead, Vaizey smiled widely, sunlight glinting off of the ruby in his tooth.
At the far end of the Great Hall, Richard yanked the sheet off of the table, the sound capturing Guy's attention. Reluctantly, he watched as the king inspected the body of a man Prince John had not only employed to oversee Nottinghamshire, but to kill his brother, as well.
"Nicely done, Gisborne," Richard said solemnly. "There is no question as to identification."
"No, sire; no question," Guy replied.
He took a few steps closer to the table as if drawn by a lead.
"Nicely done, Gisborne," Vaizey remarked with approval. "I have to admit, I didn't think you had it in you."
Guy stared at him. Why was he talking? The wound was hardly an instantly-fatal one, but he wished the man would shut up and let death claim him.
A scream from the courtyard echoed up into the tower, but he did not dare take his attention from Vaizey.
"Oh, don't get all girly and mournful on me now." Vaizey winced and folded inward, but soon collected himself. When he had regained his composure, he grinned, his eyes sparkling even as his face began to lose its color, as more of his blood trailed down his tunic to his leg. "Did you see? I shot Robin Hood! Not as good as the king, but I'll take it. It's good; it's good."
Stunned, Guy looked out the window. Sure enough, there were the outlaws and king's men in a cluster; as a few of them shifted, he saw Robin sprawled on the cobblestones, Marian sobbing beside him.
"I may not have gotten the power I deserved, but nor will he get the happy ending he seeks," Vaizey muttered with satisfaction, his voice thick. Turning his head slightly, he spat blood onto the floor. "This is not some fairy tale."
Richard turned to face Guy. "Robin wished to speak to me on your behalf. I came here with every intention of seeing to your execution, along with Vaizey's."
Still halfway across the room, Guy nodded, pretending that he was not frozen at the thought. "I understood that such might be my fate. I deserve no less."
The king crossed his arms and leaned against the table, blocking Guy's view of the sheriff's disconnected head and neck. For a moment, he simply studied the other man.
"I understand that you are to marry Lady Marian's cousin."
"Yes, Lady Margaret of Leicester. We are to wed at the end of the summer."
"As if a woman could bring happiness," Vaizey continued. The look he now gave Guy was a familiar one, contempt mixed with a hint of regret. Looks like that were what had long convinced Guy that the man must feel something toward him; else, where would the regret come from? "You think a woman will bring you happiness. You have always thought that, despite what I've tried to tell you."
"Meg already makes me happy. Marrying her will be a continuation of that." Guy hated the defensive note in his voice, hated that Vaizey could instantly make him feel that he was less. Less capable, less deserving of respect, less of a man. Still, when Vaizey swayed, there was horror dampening Guy's relief at the evidence that the sheriff was weakening.
"Lepers bring nothing but pain and disease," Vaizey sneered.
He had never before used the word to describe Marian's cousin. Guy had been able to dismiss it when it was used for Marian; now, though, he saw red. "She is not a leper!" he shouted, his sword flying to Vaizey's throat as he backed him against the wall.
Aware that his time was ending, Vaizey was not at all concerned about the blade at his neck. With a smirk, he said, "They're all lepers, Guy. Run, while you still can."
The king nodded. "My congratulations. The ladies are close, are they not?"
Guy cleared his throat, which felt hoarse. "Yes, sire."
"After the deep animosity between you and Robin, especially considering Lady Marian's involvement, it must be placing some strain on all of you."
Considering his words before speaking, Guy finally replied, "I cannot say that we have no awkward moments. However, I wish Marian all happiness with Robin, as I am finding with Meg. As for Robin and myself, I believe we are building an association. I cannot say that it will certainly lead to friendship, but it might."
Richard continued to study him, and a pause turned into a silence. Guy was not fond of intimidation techniques such as this, but had years of practice receiving them from Vaizey. He stood stoically, his eyes low enough so as not to be impertinent, but not so low as to demonstrate submissiveness.
Suddenly, Richard said, "It appears I am in need of a sheriff for this shire. I will need someone loyal, who is willing to uphold his instructions, and who will not abuse his position at the expense of the people below him."
Guy saw where this was going. Who else had demonstrated unfailing loyalty to his king as well as to the populace? Unsure why Richard was sharing his thoughts with a man who had been set on killing him mere months ago, Guy raised his chin a bit more. "Robin will make an excellent sheriff."
He jumped when the king let out a bark of laughter. "He may do, at that. But I was thinking of you, Gisborne."
Guy could not mask his surprise. "Me?"
"Do you think you will be able to carry out the station to those specifications?"
"I... yes. Of course. Thank you, sire." He still was not certain whether his jaw was open or closed. He suspected it was hanging wide.
"I expect that you and Robin will work well together in this capacity."
"Indeed." The king wanted no squabbling. Understood.
Taking one last look at the former sheriff, the king flipped the sheet back over the body, and Guy began to breath easier.
"I will seal the appropriate documents and get the keys to you this evening. But you are now the Sheriff of Nottingham, Sir Guy." Richard walked toward the door, stopping just before passing Guy, who was still frozen in place. "Do not make me regret my appointment," the king said softly.
"I shall not," Guy promised keenly.
Richard took a long look at him, and then continued out of the Great Hall.
Guy's gaze fell on the lumpy sheet once more.
He leaned in, his nose mere inches from the sheriff's. "The only leper here is you. You poison the air, bringing death to all who come near."
Unable to move his head to spit again, Vaizey allowed the blood that was building up in his mouth again to dribble out of one corner of his lips. "Is that a fact?" he murmured silkily. "You seem to have fared well enough under my influence."
Guy's anger flared into rage, and his vision swam. "You call this faring well? Being berated and bullied, made to do things which have ensured my place in Hell? For the love of all that's holy, you paid one of my men to leave my son in the woods! You would have me kill the king of England! How isthatfaring well?"
"I paid your man to dispose of an inconvenience. And, had you done the job I laid out for you, neither of us would be here right now. We'd be sitting pretty in London, all the wealth and prestige we could imagine at our fingertips. Remember when we first met? You were consumed with the need for money, for position. I gave you those things, did I not?"
"You never told me there would be such an awful price," Guy bit out.
Vaizey's next words were soft, nearly kind. "There is always a price, Guy."
They stared at one another. "You're right. Thereisalways a price. And now is the time for you to pay yours." Guy stepped back, keeping his sword point against the base of Vaizey's throat.
"I wanted to love you like a son," Vaizey said thickly, wavering. Guy pulled his sword back as Vaizey dropped to his knees.
"You could never love me, or anyone else," Guy hissed.
Vaizey let out a ghost of a chuckle. "No. You're right; I couldn't. But if I could have, it would have been you. For awhile, anyway; you've changed. I cannot say that I'm impressed."
Guy said nothing, fury warring with regret.
The sheriff started to say something else, but his words turned into a thick sigh, and he toppled over.
Guy almost called for guards to have the sheriff taken away, but he hesitated. Evil had a way of living on when it should not, and if anyone would be evil enough to stave off a necessary death, it was Vaizey. Guy closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself for the last wicked action he would ever commit.
Stalking over to the body, he knelt down and raised his sword.
Even as sharp as the blade was, it could not make such a demanding cut all at once.
"Good-bye, Vaizey." Guy felt the weight lift off his shoulders like shedding a badly-made piece of armor, and then he turned and walked steadily into the light of early evening as it settled on Nottingham.