XLV

"I don't have the ledger."

Lambert had never felt so weary.
He should've known that when it came down to it, he was only worth as much as his formula. It was a surprise then to see the woman who'd accompanied their party to the demonstration at the mines step out of the shadows.

"I'm not here for that."

"You're not? Well, that makes a change, that's all anyone's been visiting me for lately."

"I'm here to give you this." She approached the prison bars and reached through with a note in her hands.

He regarded her warily. "I would come and get it but both my legs are broken."

She'd thought as much for he made a pitiful sight but was still shocked by his words. He grimaced at the sight of her pitying gaze and gestured for her to throw him the note. She did so and he smiled in gratitude as it landed in his lap. Recognition dawned upon his features as he recognised his mother's handwriting.

"She wanted to see you but Guy thought it better this way."

"Guy is right; I wouldn't want her to see me like this."

As he began to read, she noticed he was smiling and turned her back to give him some privacy but then as he gave a small cough to signal he was finished, she saw the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

"Thank you for doing this."

"You're welcome. Wish I could do more. I tried to talk to Guy…"

"Then you wasted your time - he'll not listen. I should've known it would end up like this; he never could see sense where the sheriff was concerned."

Truer words were never spoken.

"I wanted to try."

A heavy silence followed whilst he thought on what she'd said and wondered why she'd gotten involved in all this. She was just a guest at the castle and he and his mother were nothing to her, so why had she done this for them? He was about to ask but then decided not to because did it make any difference really? All that mattered was that she had and he was so grateful to her that he felt himself welling up again.

"She tended to him you know."

Francesca frowned, not knowing of whom he spoke or why and thought that he was perhaps just rambling for the sake of it.

As it turned out, he wasn't.

"My mother. He was sick when he first came here."

"Who was?"

"Guy."

The hairs on the back of Francesca's neck stood on end.

"He was?"

"Yes. That's how I met him. She looked after him."

She felt the air rush out of her. She closed her eyes and could see Guy as she knew him back then and it was so real, as if he lay in his sick bed before her, tangled in the bed sheets, deathly pale, helpless…

"I used to bring her things and as he got better we became friends…"

She was shaking now, memories of her time with him playing in her head.

"Who'd have thought it would come to this eh?"

A tear slipped down her cheek and she turned her back so he wouldn't see it, the last thing he needed was her blubbering.

What happened to you Guy? Where did the man I love, the man who was this man's friend, go?

"Would you do something for me?"

She wiped her face and turned to look at him. "Of course."

"Would you keep an eye on her?"

He didn't have to say who and Francesca felt herself choke, just about managing to keep her tears at bay to promise him she would.

Her screams were awful.

Truly the most awful thing Francesca had ever heard.

All was bathed in agonizing, gut wrenching grief and Francesca could only look on helplessly as the devastated mother launched herself at Sir Guy of Gisborne with a force nobody would've thought possible.

The guards stepped in but Francesca blocked their way. Not today boys. Not today.

Let him see what he has done.

The screams faded. The fists pounding upon him slowed and then stopped. The protests of no! and I hate you! and how could you? and why did you? became muffled in his shoulder and morphed into sobs as he folded her into his arms and held her to him.

Let him see.

"Ah there you are missy! We've been wondering when you'd show up!"

Francesca groaned. She'd hoped to be ignored for she was bone weary but Vaisey never was one to miss an opportunity to annoy where he could.

"How is the old dear? Has she cheered up a bit since this morning?"

She didn't respond though it took extraordinary effort not to.

This morning, Mary Lambert had watched as the body of her son was clumsily deposited before her like a piece of meat. It was only thanks to Guy's intervention that the idiot goons responsible for this disgusting act picked him up and carried him to the churchyard. It was also thanks to him that he received a dignified burial.

Francesca still couldn't look at him though.

Too little too late.

Still, that was something they were all guilty of one way or another wasn't it? Ever since that scene in town the previous day as Mary had learned of her son's fate and lashed out at Guy, Francesca had wondered if there was not more she could've done for Lambert.

Perhaps she could've gone to the saracen woman for help, after all, she'd had no problem getting herself and her comrades out of the castle had she? Or what about Robin Hood? She could've smuggled him and his friends into the castle and distracted the guards whilst they carried Lambert out.

She knew the ideas were half-baked and any attempt to rescue him would've put them all at risk of sharing his fate but still she wished she'd done something.

Robin Hood had done something though: he'd smuggled himself in the castle. He'd been one of those visitors to Lambert asking about the ledger and fortunate as it was that he'd managed to stop the sheriff from getting his hands on it, sadly he hadn't been able to do the same for Lambert.

We all failed him.

Now all that was left for them to do was to honour the man as best they could and respect his wishes. The ledger was gone, the black powder as well… all that remained was a crater on a hillside, ash upon the ground and those who were left to clean up the mess and muddle through somehow.

Francesca kept her promise to him and kept an eye on Mary. More than that, she stayed by her side through those darkest hours and offered what comfort she could; she figured it was the least she could do.

And now this man, who was responsible for all this pain and misery had the gall to ask her how Mary was!? If she had cheered up!?

Francesca felt a burning rage course through her, the likes of which she'd never known and it took all that she had and all that she was to resist the urge to lash out. God knows her father had provoked her over the years but this was a whole new level of hatred, for the damage this man had caused was immeasurable and yet to him it was all just a joke.

Vaisey had of course anticipated her anger, his comments had been for that purpose - to get a rise out of her but he soon found himself disappointed on that score for she swiftly made a beeline for the door.

Her father caught her by the arm on the way out, "The sheriff asked you a question, have you not manners enough to answer him?"

Francesca remained utterly unfazed, "No father, it seems that I do not."

She gave him the usual fake smile, pulled her arm free and then slammed the door behind her.

She was killing him.

He would never have thought that loving her could hurt so much.

Please Francesca, please… I couldn't help him… I tried…

All these years he had longed to see her again and even in his worst nightmares, he could not have imagined that things would have turned out so catastrophically bad between them.

Was it not terrible enough that in Winchester his worst fears for her had been realised?

She was his. She had sworn it. He knew it had been a promise she could not make but she'd made it anyway. Had written it. It was just a stupid piece of paper, faded and falling to pieces but he'd kept it so that he could never doubt her.

I love you.

I am yours.

I will never forget you.

Now she hated him.

Couldn't even look at him.

And although he'd always known that it would come to this - that in getting to know him she would come to detest him – he hadn't known how painful it would be.

He wouldn't admit it though. Wouldn't let it in. Refused to let it touch him. Scolded himself for dwelling on it. Told himself to man up.

He secretly reproached her for her goodness. This was the world they lived in and it wasn't fair and it wasn't good and it was just as Vaisey said, you have to "play or pay." One must swear loyalty to somebody or something and that is what he'd done. He had to live with that. He did live with it. It wasn't pretty but what could he do? What could any of them do? Deal with it, that's what.

So he cursed himself endlessly because here he was again, letting himself be distracted by his feelings for a woman and Vaisey would laugh because all those lectures about keeping sharp, mind on the job, eyes on the prize etc. had been for nought because he fell into the same pattern every. single. time.

He threw himself into his work, driving himself harder than ever. He pretended that it was better this way and that Lambert had been the wakeup call he needed to come to his senses. He worked on mending the rift with Marian because she was the one he needed to concentrate on now not Francesca.

He wouldn't admit it but under the shadow it was darker than ever.