Chapter Thirty: Delve
"Dante has grown into a fine man, hasn't he?" Vasey said once the trio was alone again, "I remember when he used to be such a gawky, lanky boy... and now look at him. Shot right up and is taking on some of the best wrestlers in the region."
"Yes, very impressive," Mariella replied without enthusiasm.
"Well, I'm going to go for a stretch," Vasey sighed as he stood, "Care to join me, dear?"
"No, thank you, my lord," Mariella denied as she slapped on a smile, "I think I need a little more rest. I wouldn't want to overwork my injuries."
"You both are using that one a lot, aren't you?" the Sheriff remarked, "Have it your way. I'll be right back."
And so Mariella and Guy were left alone again and Mariella had the chance to inquire about something Lord Dante had mentioned.
That man was a stranger to her world and yet he already seemed to know more about its components than she did. Dante was already so familiar with
the men in her life and even seemed to know their past better. And so she managed to blurt out her question.
"Why did you go to France?" Mariella asked suddenly and without thinking.
The inquiry seemed to bother Guy no later than it was asked. His expression told Mariella that it was most likely a topic she should not have ventured.
"I will only say that I had no other choice," Guy told her with a darkness Mariella had never heard in his voice, "It is a story for another day. I don't want to talk about it."
A pang of regret pumped out of Mariella's heart and into the rest of her body, making her feel heavier and lighter all at the same time. "I'm sorry," she said softly and sincerely, "I didn't know… It's just that Lord Dante—"
"I don't want to discuss Dante either," Guy stopped her. She could tell he was trying to keep his tone soft, but the sharp steel in it was still present in it; covered, yes, but present.
"Why don't you like him?" Mariella interrogated with a hint of agitation, "He seems kind enough."
"I told you I don't want to talk about it," Guy growled.
"Well, I do," Mariella pressed as she stood, crossed the platform, and took the empty seat next to him, "You don't like Sir Dante. You don't like Sir Mark. Is there anyone you do like?"
Then the Sheriff made his swift return with sounds of complaints and rues. "That was certainly boring," he groaned, "I don't know how you young folk do it. Just walking around and looking at all the people dressed in pretty colors. It's maddening!"
"Actually, I was just considering to fetch myself a cup of water," Mariella announced as she stood. She could barely stand to be with Guy at that point, he was being so difficult. "I'll be right back."
"I'll go with you," Gisborne added, "You'd be amazed at the number of incidents that can occur at these sprees."
There was no way that Mariella could quickly think of a way to politely object to this and so she allowed him to accompany her. However, she had no intention of conversing at this point. She took his arm when offered but other than that she refused him any other nicety.
"Oh, now you two feel up for a walk," Vasey grumbled after the two as Mariella and Guy made their way, "I'm starting to think you two are only playing that card when it best suits you!"
Guy took a moment to begin. "Sir Dante and I have a mutual distaste for each other," Guy sighed with exasperation when he finally spoke, "It developed when we were young and was never resolved. And Sir Mark..." He stopped for a moment in speech and in pace and sighed again, reaching for her bandaged hand and inconspicuously caressing it. Then he continued, his voice lower and his speaking slower, "My aversion to Sir Mark was partly jealousy at first, but now I feel that... There's something I just don't like about him. It's as if he's..." Within the next pause he took, he seemed to abandon his endeavor to defend himself. "Forget it."
"No," Mariella said gently as her discomposure cooled, "Tell me. It's all right."
Guy sent his gaze out into the passing crowd as if he would discover the nerve to speak amongst the spectators and the games. But then he turned back to Mariella. With one glance into her trusting eyes and he suddenly felt she needed to know. "It's as if..." he began again, "I feel as if he's the one against me."
Images of Mark's secrets ran briefly through Mariella's mind. As she recalled his loyalties and who he called his enemies, she was keenly aware of the weight his secret enforced upon her. Still she forced comfort from her lips: "Guy... He is a good man, a kind man. He has given you no reason to suspect him. You must lay your suspicions of him to rest. Once you do I'm sure you'll find him an agreeable man."
"Agreeable?" Guy repeated, "Mariella, you think that everyone is agreeable. There is not a soul on this earth or in heaven or hell whom you detest."
"And what's wrong with that?" Mariella asked with a smile, "What is wrong with being friendly, with giving people a chance?"
"You don't understand," Guy nearly exclaimed, but he caught himself before he allowed his temper to flare. He took a moment, took a breath, and started again. "You are so innocent, Mariella. You are so pure, and gentle, and good. Everything that is wonderful in this world is all that is in you. In fact, it's difficult to believe that you could ever really consider me, the horrible being that I am. I'm even starting to fear that you couldn't possibly be real. But there is a problem in that, Mariella." He tread carefully at this point as he saw her brows knit together. "You are warm to all who extend a welcoming hand, but you fail to consider that any of these tricks could be a fatal snare."
"Are you trying to say that I should suspect everyone who is nice to me of duplicity?" Mariella questioned.
Now he was beginning to toe the line. He had wandered into treacherous territory. "No. I'm just saying that you need to realize that there is the possibility that some people who may act kind may in fact not be."
"Oh, I'm beginning to understand that perfectly," Mariella fumed, "My own uncle, who was more like a father to me than any man I have ever known, has basically turned his back on me... and I've accepted that. That does not mean I shall start to distrust every person I meet. For God's sake! You say that there is not a soul whom I detest. Is there a soul on whom you trust?"
Guy couldn't respond at first. Instead he could only stare at her, searching her face for clues as to what he could say to sooth her spirits. But he didn't find the words. Alternatively, he grabbed Mariella by the hand and carefully made his way over to a nearby, unoccupied tent. He turned to face her so that they were square with each other, he took hold of her arms and pulled her into a very unexpected and very firm kiss. Suddenly Mariella's anger was suddenly vanished and was replaced with surprise, which eased as she was reminded of the reasons she had chosen Guy, of his characteristics that she had grown so attached to.
Then, almost as quickly as he had pressed forward Guy pulled back again and stepped away, fearful that someone might spy their sinful encounter. "I trust you," he confessed with a pain in his eyes that reminded Mariella more of heartbreak than of unlimited devotion, "You are the only thing that is keeping me human, the only thing that has given me hope, and the only woman I could ever allow myself to care for. When I'm with you I realize that the man I am is far from the man I want to be."
"And what sort of man do you want to be?"
"A good man."
"Guy," Mariella chuckled lightly as she affectionately placed a hand on his cheek, "You are a good man."
"No," he argued as he removed her hand and took a step away from her, "I'm not. The person I am when I'm with you is not who I am."
"Well, I don't know this other Guy," Mariella smiled, "but I like this one. And you like this one. I don't understand why you can't be this Guy all the time."
"It's not so simple," he said as he weaved her arm into his and lead her back into the open, "I can't change who I am."
"You don't have to," Mariella commented. She was now having difficulty maintaining her cheerful facade. "Have you ever considered that maybe this is who you are and that this bad man is the one who isn't you?"
With the comment came no response. Guy remained mute for the next few minutes until he finally led her back to the Sheriff, allowing her to take her seat, and then taking his leave of both the Sheriff and Mariella, with a moderate bow and a brief valediction.
"What a festival," Vasey sighed, but Mariella couldn't tell if it was with relief, exasperation, boredom, or euphoria. However, it didn't matter for long for the Sheriff quickly changed the subject, "It seems like I've seen very little of you for the past couple of days, Mariella. Are you enjoying yourself?"
Out in the arena a man gave of a battle cry as he charged his opponent.
"Yes," Mariella answered as she plastered on yet another smile, "I never knew they could be so entertaining. So much to do."
A counter was made and an attack was avoided.
"What have you done so far?" Vasey asked, curious as to what she found so entertaining.
Another attempt to harm the opponent was made.
"Well, I've danced," she reported, "And I've watched games such as these. Besides that most of it has been spent strolling about. It is still early in the festivities, after all."
The attack was met this time with a reversal, canceling the turn.
"So it is," Vasey nodded, "Have you made any acquaintances?"
"Not as of yet. Only Sir Dante of Cravesburry, it seems."
"Shame. I shall be sure to introduce you to a few people at the party tonight. Hopefully there will be no more party-crashers. Are you aware that one of our own staff had thrown in her lot with those vagabonds?"
Mariella stifled any sign of distress. "No, my lord," she lied, "I was unaware. Who was it?"
"Some servant girl. She was caught stealing from a few of my guests. Loralei I think her name was."
"Laura?" Mariella inquired so as to set the record straight.
"Ah, yes. That was it. Laura."
"I know her quite well," Mariella grieved, "She is my friend, sir."
"Be that as it may, Mariella, she is still a nasty little thief," Vasey retorted, "She will be treated as a nasty, little thief and she will die as a nasty, little thief."
"Die?" Mariella pronounced, the word scaring her beyond all else.
"Yes. She is scheduled to die in two days' time. I would have it sooner, but I thought that would have killed the fun a little too soon."
"Please, sir," Mariella implored, "I beg you to reconsider. Her crime is not of a serious nature and if I am not mistaken this is the first of her offences."
"No, Mariella, this will be dealt with properly," the Sheriff insisted, "With a quick drop and a tug."
"Please, sir have mercy-"
"Mercy does not discourage crime and neither does it punish it," Vasey growled, "If I were to show lenience to all of those who broke the law then I would be eliminating the fear of punishment. Without that fear there would be no order and everything would turn to anarchy."
"But sir-"
"Not another word on the subject, my dear," Vasey insisted, "My word is final and I say she will be hanged."
At that Mariella was finally silenced and said not another word on the subject for the rest of the day. Instead she was thrown into a state of worry, of self-contemplation, of self-enlightenment. She was forced to consider the amount of time she had known of Laura's detainment and then to account for the amount of time she'd spent thinking about her. In the past three days she had maybe only thought about her troubled friend in the first day she'd been told of her capture. The rest of her hours were spent thinking about Guy or consumed in her own petty life. What had become of her? In weeks past she would have sacrificed anything for an innocent. She at one point had been ready to betray the closest thing she had to family in order to protect the weak and down-trod and here she was, a weakened creature only concerned with the trifles of her own life. It was a side to her that she would have to remedy. She swore at that moment that she would recommit herself to the needy. She would help those that suffer at her uncle's hand and she would bestow justice wherever need be.
