XLIX
"I hope you've brought a nice frock with you my dear…"
Francesca jumped out of her skin.
How in God's name had he gotten into her room without her noticing? The door was old and creaky yet she hadn't heard a thing.
"You've been looking so dreary of late…"
Francesca silently cursed him a thousand times and bemoaned her luck for having returned to his domain. It was bad enough that her father and Winchester would be returning today; did she really have to put up with Vaisey slinking about, scaring the bejesus out of her as well?
As her heartbeat returned to normal, she turned to face him with her brow pinched in an irritated frown. Vaisey adored that expression on her; it was one of his favourites.
"You don't seem pleased to see me - a shame, for I come to you first with the news…"
Her frown deepened and Vaisey drank it in. He might not be able to mess with her as much as he'd like, (as Prince John's future mistress she was pretty much untouchable) but he'd still torment her where he could.
"Soooo… do you have anything decent?"
She was shaking her head now and looking at him as if he'd completely lost the plot. "What do you mean?"
"To wear of course! For the wedding!"
Wedding?
"Gisborne and Marian! Don't tell me you hadn't noticed their engagement or were you too busy trying to get back into his bed?"
Francesca's jaw dropped open.
1. She'd never been in his bed… well, not in the way he was insinuating anyway…
2. What happened to 'when the king returns'?
3. How dare he insinuate that she'd been trying to seduce him!
4. What happened to…
"He's coming this Saturday." Vaisey smirked, relishing what he was doing to her with this disclosure, "King Richard himself." He bowed in an over-the-top manner, grinning all the while, "We are most honoured…"
Francesca felt her defences crumble as the news sunk in. Her legs turned to jelly and she had to prop herself up against one of the bedposts. She turned away from him, all too aware of how his eyes greedily ate up her distress.
"Yes my dear, by this time next week your lover will be a married man and you'll trading wedding tips with Marian no doubt… or…. bedroom tips." His grin was pure wickedness, how he loved to pull the prim and proper ladies down a peg or two, "After all, can't have you showing yourself up when Prince John finally gets round to having his way with you eh?"
It was too much. Francesca's legs gave up on her. She somehow managed to perch herself on the bed but it was as if her body had completely deflated. She felt herself beginning to choke and willed herself to breathe. When she finally managed it and her lungs ceased screaming for air, she buried her head in her hands and petitioned the Lord above to give her a break for if things carried on like this she would surely lose her mind.
Please God, I know that he is lost to me but do you have to make me watch him marry someone else?
Vaisey was a gleeful spectator of her anguish; he found there was nothing quite so satisfying as delivering a well-aimed kick when someone was down.
"Say…. you could borrow a dress from Marian! She has some fetching outfits! I'm sure she'd have no problem lending you something…" Vaisey paused to run a quick greatest hits of Marian's wardrobe through his head, chuckling as he remembered an interesting camouflage number, "but do remember dear, it is not proper to outdo the bride on her big day, so choose wisely…"
It must be fate, Guy was sure of it.
Finally, something was going his way.
It was a strange feeling to be sure but was it not his turn? Had he not been patient? All his life he had worked to get to this point, done all that needed to be done (and then some), bowed and scraped to get to where he should have always been…
He rode out to the Gisborne lands, to the spot where his house once stood and closed his eyes to imagine how it was going to look here in a few years' time. He had done this many times in the past four years but this time he shivered as he did so, knowing he was closer than ever.
The future was set.
The king was coming.
Marian would be his.
Winchester would be dealt with.
(The wheels were already in motion - Vaisey had assured him.)
Francesca wouldn't have to marry him and therefore would not be given to Prince John.
She could go home.
And maybe…
in time, there would be a good man who noticed her…
A better man.
In truth, he had never felt himself worthy. He had known it then and knew it now. That's why he'd stayed away all those years, that and because of her father - even when he'd gained Locksley, his pride had smarted at the thought of going cap in hand to that puffed up peacock.
He absentmindedly reached for the scrap of paper he kept in the inside pocket of his tunic and then with a sigh remembered he no longer had it. He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, riding out the feelings of regret that were coursing through him.
He knew how silly it was to hang on it but for years it had been the only proof that she'd existed… that he had not imagined her in some fever dream… that she had loved him…
that for a short time he had been good enough for her.
It is better this way. She was never meant for me.
"But you do not love him!"
"He has qualities!"
Marian was all too aware that she was clutching at straws but under the circumstances it was the best she could do.
Faced with the event she had been dreading ever since she'd acquiesced, she held fast to the only arguments she'd been able to come up with in Guy's favour: that he appeared genuine in his regard for her and the material security marriage to him would ensure.
As to the protection he offered her from the sheriff, well, that was a promise made on shaky foundations – what they'd done to her hair was proof that not even Guy could spare her if the sheriff was set on punishing her but…
maybe as his wife, things will be different…
She was not naïve and never had been but with no way out of this predicament, all she was left with was vague hopes that all would not be so dire as she suspected it was going to be.
Try explaining that to Robin though. How to make him understand? How could a man who had always been free to come and go as he pleased understand what it was to be a woman?
This brought her thoughts to Francesca Cavendish, who served as reminder that things could always be worse. It was perhaps cruel to find solace in comparing one's own plight to another's but Marian was not fussy where she found her comforts at present.
Guy might not be the man of Marian's dreams but Winchester… a shudder of revulsion passed through her at the very thought of him and however dreadful the prospect of marriage to Guy might seem, how dreadful must it be to be promised to Winchester?
Guy had also proved of late that he could be attentive, affectionate and generous – not things Marian had ever wanted from him - but at least it showed that he meant to be a good husband to her. What kind of husband could Francesca look forward to?
Marian thought back to one particular exchange with Guy where he'd become more demonstrative in his advances – taking her into his arms and entreating her to 'be with him' – she had of course rebuffed him but the key here was that he'd respected her wishes – would Winchester have done the same?
The answer was a resounding no. Marian had never been so unfortunate as to find herself in that position with him but she knew him well enough to know that he let nothing stand in the way of what he wanted.
Poor Francesca.
In a moment of fancy, Marian wondered if she could not rescue them both from their future husbands and take them off to some place where women could live in peace unbothered by men. She giggled and gave a sigh, enjoying the fantasy before her mind supplied her with another thought to bring her cheer…
One final fling… something to make me more comfortable in my marriage…
It was bound to happen.
One can applaud the bravery and spirit of one so bold as the lady of Knighton but let's face it, if your idea of a 'fling' is to engage in physical combat against a man twice your size then it's not surprising that it goes pear-shaped is it?
And boy had it...
For a short time though, the Nightwatchman, Robin Hood and his men were oblivious as to just how pear-shaped things had gone… and none more so than Allan and Will, who'd separated from the group and were in possession of the bounty.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Will groaned. He hated it when Allan asked this question.
"Noooo..."
"Well, if you're not thinking it, how d'y'know what it is?"
"I don't think like you do."
"I'm not being funny but maybe you should. What, you think Robin's gonna need us when he's a lord again? It's all right for them, Much with his lodge... What are we gonna have?"
Will sighed. He noticed his friend had been 'off' ever since he'd heard the news King Richard was returning, now he knew why.
Still, he couldn't condone making off with the loot. "This should go to the poor."
"That's us now! Look, we were outlaws, right? We had a job. We got nothin' now. We are the poor. You know what this is?"
"What?"
"Severance pay."
Oh Allan…
Will had known it; had sensed it the moment Allan had opened his mouth but still, it galled him at times the way his friend's mind worked. Robin would never do that to them, not after all they'd been through, he might get his house back… and his title… and lands and… wealth… but… surely he wouldn't forget his friends…..
would he?
The seed of fear took root and grew quickly, taking over any certainty he'd felt concerning their leader and where his loyalties lay. Would he want to bother with the likes of them once he was the king's man again?
Fact is, they didn't know.
A look of understanding passed between the two men, a shared fear that all was about to change and they were to be left behind.
And err… that really was a lot of money wasn't it?
Maybe we could…
Will looked in his confusion to Allan but if he was looking for someone to talk him out of it then he was mistaken. Allan was several steps ahead, no longer stuck on maybe but already considering how to put the 'severance pay' to use – he'd always been quick to notice an opportunity and that's what this was wasn't it? A chance to get ahead, to start again – Robin wasn't going to want them hanging around waiting for him to throw them a bone was he? No, he'd want them to stand on their own now and what better way to do it than with this money?
If it wasn't for that niggling feeling at the pit of their stomachs…
Allan was better at ignoring it, talking a mile a minute trying to convince them both that this was the right thing to do even though they both knew deep down that it wasn't.
It was the mention of Will's family that clinched it for him and the longing to see his father and brother (not to mention thoughts of how the money would help them) that compelled him to take those first steps along the great north road in the direction of Scarborough.
But….
"I can't do it."
Will stopped at the side of the road.
"We're doing it!" Allan insisted, staring intently at his friend who was avoiding eye contact.
"I'm not."
"But we're here now!" Allan gestured to the road, their way out.
"I'm going back." Will turned on his heels and Allan practically whimpered at the sight. He waited a moment to see if he would change his mind but it wasn't happening so he hastened to follow him.
"Wait! Don't go! Look, we'll never get a chance like this again…"
"I know." Will didn't slow down.
"An' you'll be regrettin' it as soon as Robin goes swannin' off with the king an' all that – he'll not give us the time'a'day once his majesty gets here…"
"I don't care."
"Well I do! We deserve better than that! After all we've been through…"
"I'm sorry Allan…" Will stopped walking now to look his friend directly in the eye and it was the sad expression on Will's face that had Allan transfixed, "I sometimes forget how much this has cost you."
Allan swallowed tightly, he knew Will was referring to his brother.
"I understand why you want to go..."
Allan bowed his head and sighed.
"But what about Little John and Djaq? Don't they deserve better?"
He was no longer referring to Robin now but instead to what it was they were doing here – didn't Little John and Djaq deserve better than their friends slinking off without even saying goodbye is what he was saying.
There was a charged silence as Will gave his friend time to think and just as he began to worry that Allan was going to leave with the loot anyway, he heard an exasperated groan…
"Alright! Alright! I hear ya! But don't come cryin' to me when we're skint an' livin' on the bones of our arses!" Allan started moving again, this time in the direction of Sherwood and Will grinned so hard it hurt. He was about to rush forwards and hug the man when Allan stopped abruptly. He didn't turn to face him, just stood as still as a statue.
Will's stomach tightened. He didn't like this one bit. "What is it?"
Allan said nothing for a long time and that frightened Will more than any talking from him ever could.
"Please Allan… you can tell me…"
"I can't…" His voice was strangled and it sent a shiver through Will.
He took a step towards him and whispered, "Please… whatever it is, we'll work something out ok? I promise."
Allan began to tear up, his fingers made their way to the wooden carving in his pocket and he rubbed gently as the last of the air in his lungs stuttered out of him.
"It's about Winchester…"
