XLVIII
"This is the King's annual duty to finance his crusade against the heathen, if you can't pay; you go to prison – sheriff's decree: no exceptions, no tolerance."
The villagers of Locksley were in a stupor.
They'd scarcely had time to process the news that yet another tax was being forced upon them before they were attacked by Gisborne's men and imprisoned in carts bound for Nottingham.
Some cursed their infernal luck, most cursed the cruel lord of their village, others stumbled about as if in trance - desperately trying to comprehend how things could've turned out like this, whilst a few sighed in sad acceptance of their fate – dismayed but not surprised at this turn of events.
Whilst the captured villagers were lost to their thoughts, nearby a drama unfolded as Gisborne arrested a cooper.
There was an audible gasp from all present as saracen-style bows were found – everybody knew what that meant.
"Collaborate with outlaws and you will be punished like an outlaw. Take him away!"
It only got worse.
The cooper's boy interfered and Gisborne had him by the hair, "The runt! We must make an example of him..." The boy squirmed in his grasp but Gisborne gave him no quarter, "Take the boy too."
"Leave him alone!"
"He's innocent!"
The protests were in vain. There would be no leniency.
As Alice cried out her son's name, the boy's father could bear it no longer.
Little John had kept out of sight but had seen it all.
He sprang forward to aid his child but Robin held him back. They had no chance against those numbers; any attempt to free him could only end in failure. John had no choice but to accept Robin's reasoning. There would be no letting the boy out of sight though, that much was clear.
As he made his way in the direction of the cart with a protesting Robin in tow, Sir Guy of Gisborne noticed someone retreating in the distance and his blood froze.
Oh God no. Of all the people...
"What are you doing here?"
His voice was tight with menace but Francesca would not be cowed by him.
"Watching the performance." She was hiding her anger beneath sarcasm for the moment but it was there alright, burning bright beneath the surface; Guy knew that another confrontation between them was imminent.
"Where are your guards?"
"I gave them time off." She spoke as if it was the most normal thing in the world, a mere trifle.
Guy's temper skyrocketed. "You did what!?" He stalked closer to her, towering over her. "You had no right! Do you care so little for your safety?"
"My safety! From what I've seen, the only people I need worry about are you and your men..." She gestured around her at the carnage in the wake of the arrests, "I mean let's face it, if you won't even spare children, what's one more woman to add to the numbers?"
"Don't be ludicrous." He rolled his eyes at her overdramatic speech but the point she was trying to make had hit home. He moved the focus back to her on purpose, "You shouldn't be here."
"Oh I shouldn't should I? Where should I be? Sitting in my bedchamber at the castle prancing and preening like a good little girl, is that where I should be? Waiting for Winchester to 'deal with the situation here before he hands me over to Prince John!?"
Guy froze. His eyes widened in horror.
Francesca smirked, "Oh come on Guy, what did you think this was about? Did you think Winchester chose me for my 'charms'!? I am a means to an end! A way to get from A to B!" Her voice had been mocking but now there was a cruel curl to her lips as she delivered the point of her speech, "and do you want to know where B is? It is here Guy, right here." She paused to give him time to digest the information and could tell the very moment he understood, "Yes, it is Nottingham he wants."
It was all there to see. Astonishment. Dismay. Dread. Francesca wouldn't let up though,
"Tell me, do you think he'll keep you on when he gets it?"
There it was.
Fear.
Fear in those cold blue eyes.
The fear that came with realising that everything you had thought was yours was about to be taken from you.
"So you see Guy, all this was for nothing."
It hadn't been five minutes.
Francesca had stormed off, determined not to waste any more time on him but of course nothing was ever that easy and he turned up at Mary's like a bad penny before she'd even had chance to calm down.
"Vaisey won't stand for it."
She sighed and grasped his sleeve to lead him away from Mary's, not wishing to sully the domestic peace of the cottage with the arguing that was bound to happen. She was surprised to find that he let her.
"You don't get it do you? Do you think that Vaisey can do anything about it?"
He was about to interrupt but she stopped him, one hand gripping upon his forearm, eyes beseeching him to listen, "Whatever your master may be capable of, he still has to serve – just as you do. Have you not yet realised that the man that you serve, both of you, can take away everything you have on a whim? Have you not seen this? Do you not see this every time you visit your lady at Knighton? Is Sir Edward not evidence enough of what happens when one falls out of favour with Prince John?"
He is not stupid. He doesn't need you to spell it out for him. Perhaps...
Francesca shivered as her mind supplied her with a dark thought. Guy had to be aware that his current position was a precarious one and that was the reason why he was so keen for a union between himself and Marian... it's a safety net... should all be lost, he shall not fall so hard…
Another puzzle piece slotted into place.
Oh Guy...
It shouldn't make sense but it did and only because that very morning she'd overheard villagers gossiping about the lord of the Locksley and his lady.
"When the king returns."
"What do you mean?"
"Just that – she said she'll marry him when the king returns."
"Bloody hell really!?"
"Yep. She's that keen on him! Might as well have said when hell freezes over!"
"Good lord! Bet that didn't go down well!"
"Aye, he's a moody blighter at the best of times, wouldn't be surprised if he goes takin' it out on all of us..."
It was, in retrospect, a strangely prophetic comment but by that point Francesca hadn't been listening anymore.
When the king returns...
Why would she say that?
Does she not want...?
And yet he still...
She thought of the horse. Marian was holding him at bay with a stipulation, (something no matter how she tried, she could not get her head around), and he was buying her extravagant gifts. He was either madly in love... or...
deeply in need.
She could not know which and had not spent enough time with the couple to make an educated guess. Still, even if she had, it would still be difficult to say for she was hardly impartial about this was she? and let's face it, short of seeing inside their heads, one could never be truly sure of their motives.
Her thoughts circled, her heart ached but her gut was the one that was really troubling her...
"Do you think marriage will solve your problems Guy? Having a family? Even if Prince John leaves you be, do you think Vaisey ever will? Do you not realise that having people to love and protect gives him something to use against you? And even if through some miracle he was out of the picture, what of the enemies you have made here? What of the men, women, and children you have wronged?" She was close to him now, up in his face, determined to get through to that spark of reason somewhere beneath those layers of armour.
"Violence begets violence. Every vile deed spawns an act of revenge. It never ends..." She paused to send up to the heavens a silent prayer before delivering her final words:
"You have to stop."
Then she was gone.
He caught up with her just as she was about to enter the cottage and wordlessly shoved a crumpled note into her hand. Her surprise was quickly replaced with understanding.
He gave her a look she doubted she would ever forget before he mounted his horse and left her to her despair.
It seemed he'd made his decision.
Business as usual. Just as Vaisey likes it.
The 'festival of pain' was a farce.
Robin Hood and his merry men were triumphant once more.
The prisoners were free, the tax money liberated and all in Locksley village were rejoicing.
All but one.
In a small cottage on the outskirts of the village, a girl who felt old beyond her years sat looking out of the window watching the happy scene unfolding before her feeling more lost than ever.
Francesca was glad that the sheriff had been thwarted. She was pleased that the people had been saved. She savoured the feeling of relief whilst it lasted...
but wondered what this meant for a certain man at the castle.
She brought her gaze to the crumpled note in her hand. She had no need to examine it – she knew what it was... what his returning it to her meant...
He was giving her permission to stop loving him.
If only it was that simple.
For the first time in her life, she wished she'd never started.
Not really.
She told herself that but in truth she still could not regret their time together. He'd given her every reason to but she couldn't.
Oh Fran… quite a taste for heartbreak you've developed…
They all warned you - Betty, Lydia… even Guy himself…
But was it really so surprising that she'd fallen for the first man who'd shown her kindness? It was clear to her now that she had rushed in despite hardly knowing him at all and she cursed herself for it - she knew now that in doing so she had been an impulsive fool...
and yet...
She recalled what it was to be in love with him so utterly and completely – how it had filled her life and given her comfort...
given her something to hope for and hang on to...
but now...
it was shattered
and with it the reason for so much of what she did.
Who she was.
Could she give up on something that had been such a fundamental part of her for so long?
