XLVII
All that trouble for nothing.
Better you stay in your room next time and keep your mouth shut.
Indeed, it seemed like a sensible strategy for the rest of her life if events of late were anything to go by.
Allan-a-Dale was free.
Upon returning to Nottingham Castle, Francesca caught sight of him being unceremoniously turfed out at the west gate. Which begged the question, what on earth was that about?
Why arrest a man and throw him in the dungeons only to let him go again?
It was not as if she wasn't grateful to see him alive and liberated but it was confusing because he was an outlaw and from what she could gather, the powers that be were very keen to have outlaws under lock and key.
She had little time to think on this however for no sooner had she arrived at the stables the next onslaught of emotions overwhelmed her.
Guy was there.
With a strikingly handsome horse.
He greeted her formally and for Francesca it was as if the years fell away - here they were again: two strangers dancing around each other in the stables.
"Good evening Sir Guy."
He was relieved to hear her voice but dismayed that she still could not look at him. An awkward silence followed and Francesca would've given every penny she owned to have Joseph at her side to make her feel better.
"How do you like him?" Guy gestured to the horse and there was something about the nervous way he asked that made her heart melt.
She quickly squashed that sentiment and politely answered, "He's beautiful."
Guy was dejected to discern that she was keeping her distance but rallied a little as she added, "…but then you always did have excellent taste in horses."
She quelled the urge to ask him about her old favourite from court but swiftly warmed to his new companion as the curious animal greeted her by sniffing her hair. She couldn't help but smile at this and Guy had to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.
"He likes you." He declared and his voice was so soft that Francesca felt herself shiver, "…but then you always did have a way with horses."
She looked up at him then, unable to stop herself from needing to see his face…
and there it was…
that smile…
the one that always reduced her to a pathetic puddle.
Lord help me.
She was so lost, overwhelmed, and confused. How could he make her feel this way? How could he? After all that had happened how could he still do this to her? She felt as if she might cry.
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, lost in a torment of repressed emotions before both startled at the stable groom's entrance.
Francesca blinked stupidly at the young lad as if she'd been expecting somebody else: somebody much older and kinder looking, not this bored youth who bumbled past them to take the reins of the animal.
"Will you be wanting an early start tomorrow Sir Guy? I heard it will be fine in the morning; if you catch your lady early, you'll have good weather for a test run with this fella I reckon." He patted the horse affectionately.
Oh.
It was then that she realised.
The horse wasn't for Guy.
Oh that hurts.
That hurts so much.
Francesca was practically slumped over and tears were imminent. The comprehension that the magnificent creature was a gift for Marian hit her like a punch in the stomach and the effort to keep countenance, to not collapse into sobs, was enormous.
It seemed so silly and yet she could not help it…
It was not so much the gift, Francesca was not materialistic nor did she begrudge others who were so fortunate as to receive generous gifts, (though the preferential treatment of her sister by her father had never stopped stinging, not even after all these years), no, it was the weight of the sentiment behind the gift that hurt…
A horse…
Wow.
And not just any horse either…
He must really love her.
She could feel her throat tightening painfully and the tears stinging in her eyes and knew she had to get out of there. So whilst Guy was busy answering the groom, she used the opportunity to leave. "Good evening" she muttered in a strangled voice and bolted for the door.
Guy turned back round to find her gone. He stood looking sadly at the spot she'd just been and wondered if there was anything he could do.
Too late.
As in all things with her, he was once again too late.
"Hey, I've been wondering when you'd get back - was getting worried."
The affection in Will's voice was killing Allan. Even more so with the dirt of the dungeon upon his skin and the promise he'd made to Winchester echoing in his mind.
"Yeh sorry mate, got held up by guards and a bloke I know helped me out of a jam…" Allan inwardly cringed at how easy the lie rolled off his tongue before continuing, "I already owe 'im a lifetime supply of ale but managed to get away with just a couple this time."
Will chuckled, "Ah, so that's why you're a bit wobbly is it? Thought you might've had a few."
Allan smiled and nodded. The actual reason he was unsteady on his feet was that he'd just been on the end of a savage beating that he was going to be feeling for days.
"Come on then, best get you to bed, we've got a busy day tomorrow." Will grabbed Allan's wrist to lead him into camp and Allan winced. Will noticed it but Allan quickly disguised his pained reaction with a groan.
"Can't I have a lie in for once?"
"No you can't and you won't be wanting to when I tell you what I've found."
Allan found this claim a dubious one for there wasn't much other than a comely wench that was going to tempt him out of bed tomorrow but he played along anyway because he was particularly fond of his friend when he was enthusiastic like this.
"Go on then, tell me."
"I have found…" He paused for effect and Allan rolled his eyes before punching him lightly on the shoulder to get him to spill the beans already, "one of the greatest wagons you'll ever see."
Allan groaned and chuckled at his friend's passion for all things wooden, "Nah mate, gonna pass on that one, think my bed is better."
"Oh come on, you haven't even seen it yet!"
"Don't need to mate; I know what wagons look like."
"Not this one you don't. I think it's from the east. Djaq is coming with…" Will smirked knowing that Allan was as fond of her as he was, "and I'll even give you a present if you do." The carpenter waggled his eyebrows and Allan found it increasingly difficult not to smile.
"What present?"
"Say you will and I'll show you."
Allan sighed and fighting with warm feelings of affection finally relented, "Oh alright…"
Will's triumphant smile was a picture. Allan found he couldn't feel bad even though he'd just been played like a fiddle.
"See? Wasn't so hard was it?" Will deposited a small object in Allan's hand and then casually sauntered off towards camp as if nothing had happened.
Allan tarried a moment to look at his gift. It was a wooden carving of a wagon. It was unfinished but a remarkable piece of work, admirably showcasing Will's talent.
He felt himself welling up and not for the first time wondered what he had done to deserve such a wonderful friend.
"Glad to be out of the castle you say!? Well I can't imagine it my dear, for it is hardly a palace here at my humble abode!"
Despite the fact that Mary Lambert was grinning, she was sceptical of Francesca's request to stay at her cottage.
"I care not for palaces Mary, only good company and you can be assured that you are far better company than the men at the castle."
Mary scoffed at this but Francesca meant every word. She wouldn't complain if she never saw any of them again. Except Guy of course. Her traitorous heart wouldn't let go of that particular man no matter how much pain it caused her.
Still, there were some small mercies to be thankful for – Winchester and her father had decided to go on a business trip to some dignitary in another county so she was to be spared their nonsense for a few days and Vaisey and his Master of Arms were entertaining a special guest, which kept them occupied and out of her way.
Mostly.
She had run into them that morning and found the experience so unpleasant, (the mere sound of Vaisey's voice being enough to set her on edge these days), that she'd packed a bag and made her way over to Mary's straight after.
She was pleased with a different castle duo however: the guards who had been her chaperone of late had proved most cooperative as she'd handed over a generous bribe with the recommendation to take a couple of days off.
"Will your beau not be missing you?" Mary had been wondering about this for it was unusual for an engaged woman to spend so much time away from her intended.
Francesca forgot for a moment that Mary was referring to Winchester, (for she never considered him her anything despite the fact that they were to marry), and thought of Guy. It didn't matter though for whichever man she referred to, the answer was the same; "No Mary, he is engaged elsewhere."
If there had been one perk of her engagement to Winchester it was that he was more interested in her father than herself and mostly left her alone and as for Guy, well, it was the truth wasn't it? He was engaged elsewhere (literally) and the only kindness she could do herself was to put distance between them.
The change of scenery did her good. The change of company even more so. Best of all though, was that here she could make herself useful; at the castle, with everything attended to, she felt restless and idle but here she could help Mary with whatever needed doing and when they'd gotten finished with the chores, she could still be of help just by keeping Mary company.
More than that, she felt she could breathe. It had been one overwhelming event after another ever since she'd arrived and now she finally had space to let her emotions settle.
Being with Mary also put her problems into perspective. A man had died. What was her broken heart in comparison to that?
Later that day, Mary got to reminiscing, "He was a good boy, always tinkering with things…"
Francesca grinned; she could just imagine Lambert like that.
"He said that someday his creations would make him rich and then he'd build me a big house…" the elder woman continued with eyes aglow, "but I told him I didn't need a big house… that I'm happy here and all I needed was him…" she swallowed hard but smiled through the sadness, "I was ever so proud of him you know…"
Francesca hugged her close sensing that tears were coming but then Mary seemed to brighten a little. "Sir Guy was proud of him too; always telling him how brilliant he was and suggesting how he might be able to put his ideas to use but then he always was the ambitious one."
Francesca's smile faded. Guy and his ambition. Is that what Lambert died for? How far will you go Guy? Who else will have to suffer?
"Sometimes I wonder-"
"What?"
"No I cannot."
"Go on."
"No, I should not say such things." Mary looked as if she was frightened of what she'd been intending to say and Francesca was intrigued. She fixed the elder woman with a concerned look and squeezed her hand to signal that it was ok to continue.
"Well it's just that… sometimes I wonder if I hadn't nursed Guy back to health if my son would still be alive today."
Francesca froze.
What a terrible thought.
What horrified her even more is that she could reproach herself for the same thing.
Mary looked ashamed and Francesca could see tears in her eyes. She pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly as she began to cry.
"But he was so ill… and kept getting worse… I thought he would die… I had to help him..." She sobbed as the words poured out of her, each sentence punctuated by a crying jag, "and I didn't know that this would happen…. How could I know that it would come to this? That my son would end up…"
Francesca held her through it all and stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort; "it's alright… you couldn't have known… it wasn't your fault…" and was amazed to discover that tears were streaming down her face as well and that her words were meant for herself as much as Mary.
"I know he wouldn't have wanted this… he didn't mean to hurt him." Mary whispered as the pitch of her misery lessened and Francesca nodded in agreement, no, Guy hadn't wanted it but it had happened all the same and there was nothing they could do about it.
"I just wish something could be done about the sheriff." Mary sighed sadly as the weight of her grief settled upon her and the cause of it seemed immoveable.
"Yes Mary, we all wish that. Perhaps someday God will hear our prayer."