LVII
"What is that?"
After his guests had left, Guy retired to the front row pews; a location that seemed to suggest he was expecting to get this show on the road any minute, his dejected posture however, suggested something else entirely.
In the immediate aftermath of Marian's collapse, it had naturally been his wish to stay at her side, but Thornton had insisted that he leave her care to Francesca and since he trusted her and recognised that he was the source of Marian's nervous distress, he'd wisely taken Thornton's advice.
Nevertheless, he was not a patient man, and it was on one of his bouts of restless pacing that he noticed something on the ground not far from the altar.
It was a piece of fabric. Clothing of some sort. Forgotten by a guest in haste to leave this joke of a wedding in favour of Nottingham and King Richard most likely.
He went to pick it up, intrigued by the colour and immediately recognised it as one of the scarves Francesca had shown him yesterday. The most recent addition to the garment only confirmed his suspicion.
Would recognise that family crest anywhere.
The smile that curled at the corner of his lips fell away at the sight of Marian's family crest beside it. He would've likely sunk further into dejection, reflecting on the sad state of affairs between himself and that lady were it not for the sight of something else on the scarf that he would recognise anywhere…
Blood.
Francesca!
His heart leapt into his mouth and his legs carried him forwards before he knew what he was doing. All he knew was that she was bleeding and he had to get to her.
But then he stopped.
Wait…
The realisation hit him so hard he literally staggered backwards.
Oh you fool.
He could've slapped himself.
There was nothing wrong with Francesca.
He couldn't say what happened next because he saw red, but Thornton would most certainly remember it for it was the first time his master had ever laid a hand upon him and the shock of it hurt almost as much as being forcefully shoved out of the way and landing hard upon the cold stone floor.
"Why is she bleeding?"
Francesca had her back to Guy. Her body shielding Marian. Eyes clenched tightly shut. Length curling in on itself in utter dread. She turned slowly to find Guy looming large in front of her with a bloodied scarf in his hand and a look on his face that made her want to disappear.
She said nothing. She didn't have to. Terror spoke for itself, didn't it? It certainly did as he made to move her out of the way for she winced as if he was about to strike her and it depresses him that she could think he ever would but this is soon replaced by a myriad of other emotions as he finally sees Marian.
She is beautiful, even sickly pale like this and he curses himself for being so taken in by her to notice it even now, but then he's always been blind when it came to her and he has a feeling he is about to find out just how stupidly blind he has been.
He smirks as his eyes drift to the cloak. He'd noticed it earlier but had thought no more of it other than to wonder why she was hiding her dress when he'd seen it already. He had swiftly dismissed it as some part of the ceremony he wasn't acquainted with, much like how he'd not known to wait for her inside the church and he could laugh at his naivety now.
Idiot.
He crouches down to remove the offending garment and hears Thornton, who is hovering nearby, inhale sharply. He is of a mind to drag him over and get him to do it, but in the end he does it himself, his heart thrumming loud in his ears and a terrible dread tugging low in his stomach.
At first all he sees is her clothing in disarray, the fabric of her dress all bunched together, clumsily held in place by the other scarf. He removes it, glaring icily at Francesca as he does so and tosses it at her feet. Then he takes in the mess of blood and clothing beneath and his vision whites out as it finally goes 'click' in his mind.
"No."
His voice is small and pathetic and for a moment, he doesn't recognise it as his own.
"No... not you..."
He looks at his bride, so small, so helpless and his brain simply will not have it, but then his eyes drift back to the wound... the wound he inflicted... and the world as he has known it shatters.
He jolts backwards causing Thornton and Francesca to flinch. Then he takes one look at Francesca to see if she is seeing this too...
and the look on her face says it all.
Francesca winces as she hears another pew topple over.
He's left a trail of carnage in his wake: broken flowers, upended furniture, decimated decorations… It makes her think that her decision to come talk to him might not be a good one. Thornton, bless him, had offered to do the job, but she insisted he stay with Marian and keep pressure on the wound.
She would've left it altogether and waited until Mary Lambert arrives, but somebody has to talk sense into Guy because in his rage he's bolted the door thus blocking the only chance to save Marian's life.
"Guy, please..."
He's about to smash a cross he's torn off the wall into pieces but stops. The look in his eyes is deepest pain. In an instant, his features contort into icy hatred. He pulls the bloodied scarf from his pocket and thrusts it in her face.
"You tried to conceal this from me."
She nods. Feels like the lowest of the low, but has decency enough not to lie to him. She stares lamely at the scarf and curses that she's been so careless, but everything had happened so fast and it's easy to lose sight of things in the rush of the moment. She wonders when it slipped from Marian's body and thinks it was probably as they were carrying her behind the altar.
"I just wanted to help her..."
"Her! You wanted to help her!? A traitor! A liar and a thief!"
"She collapsed in my arms! Your bride! The woman you love!"
"I never loved her." The hatred in his voice is chilling. Francesca gapes.
"What are you talking about!? You were about to marry her!"
"Are you really so naïve? I did it so he couldn't have her!"
"Who?"
"Hood of course!"
She groans and sinks her head in her hands because she despairs of him. "That's what this is all about? Revenge!? You would bind her to you for the rest of your life just so that he cannot have her!?"
She is shaking now, her anger taking complete hold as the full implications of his hatred for Robin become clear. She snatches the bloodied scarf from him and thrusts it in his face, "Is this why you bolted the door? So he can't have her? You would rather she die…"
"She deserves no better." He growls and she looks at him as if he is the lowest creature she's ever had the misfortune to set eyes upon.
"No matter what she has done, she is still a person! Flesh and blood. Thoughts and feelings. Not some plaything to be pushed and pulled between rivals! or discarded when it doesn't suit!"
"She betrayed me!"
"Yes she did! But it does not give you the right to play judge, jury and executioner Guy!"
She turns from him, fighting to catch her breath after her yelling and feels the seriousness of the situation settle upon her. If she cannot convince him, Marian will die. That is where they're at now. Panic spikes in her veins and she feels she might cry because she knows how stubborn he can be – how difficult it is to reach him. She breathes deeply and tries to calm herself for yelling isn't going to do it, that much she knows.
She turns to face him and steels herself for whatever he might throw at her. "Guy, do you not realise that if she dies, you will suffer too? Yes, you will have taken her from him, but deep down you will always know she was not yours…"
He scoffs at this, but she can tell she's hit a nerve and it gives her a sliver of encouragement to continue. "Her death makes none of what she did undone, it makes her betrayal no easier to live with, on the contrary, it makes it worse because you give her no chance to explain herself."
"I have no wish to hear her."
"Believe me, you might think that now, but later when you have to live with her death - knowing that you could have saved her - you will want to know why she did what she did."
"You do not understand. There is no way she can come out of this alive. You can patch her together and she can explain herself how ever she chooses, but the sheriff will hang her. That is a fact."
She shakes her head. "Not if he doesn't find out…"
"Have you lost your mind!? Are you seriously suggesting I keep this from him? That I should lie to protect an outlaw?"
"Guy, she's just a girl…"
"She is not! She broke the law…"
"Oh Guy, you of all people should know that the law is not what it should be."
This makes him livid. "What are you talking about? In what world is robbing people acceptable?"
"In what world is taking money from the poor to furnish the pockets of the rich acceptable? And don't answer that because I can already tell you: in this one. But let's not pretend that it is right or that it is fair or that it is justice because it's not – it never was and it never will be. It is wrong, but the powers that be will tell you that it is the law and why? Because it suits them."
"What would you know about the law? You are the daughter of a nobleman: one of the rich you now choose to deride…"
"You are right. I cannot fault your argument. I am privileged. Sheltered. Have seen little of the world. But I know what it is to abide by the law. Indeed, it is all I have ever known for I have had to bow, scrape and bend to fit every rule my father ever set for me my entire life." The bitterness in her tone is unmistakable. She is trying to keep a grip on her anger, but it's difficult when touching upon such a sore subject that she's hardly ever allowed herself to speak of.
"You ask me what I know about the law? Well, in my experience, the law is whatever whoever is laying it down wants it to be. My father. Vaisey. Winchester. Prince John. You."
He is visibly shocked. Had never expected her to be so candid. What she is saying is dangerous. Would most certainly be interpreted as sympathising with outlaws and he can hardly believe it.
This is one day however where she will not be a good little girl and hold her tongue because there is a life at stake here and if she has to dish out a few uncomfortable truths to get through to him then so be it.
She moves in closer. Looks him directly in the eye.
"You know what toeing the line has cost me..."
There's no need to elaborate on this one, they know all too well what was lost that day she left all those years ago.
"You see where it has gotten me..."
Again, no explanation needed, the sad reality of her everyday existence speaks for itself.
"And you know how it will be for me..."
She smiles, but it is a parody of a smile for behind it is an ocean of sadness and it is heart-breaking for him to behold.
"He insists you uphold the law and murders your friend. He demands your loyalty, yet abandons you when you are sick. You attend to his every whim, yet he humiliates you constantly. If this is how he treats his most loyal servant, can you blame others for defying him? We know what he will do with her Guy, but the question is are you going to let him? Or are you going to be the man that I know you are underneath all of what Vaisey wants you to be?"
He snarls, apparently unmoved. "You don't know me. You never did. You latched on to me – the first man who paid you any attention no doubt, but you didn't know me, not even then."
The words sting like a slap. Her bottom lip wavers a moment, but then she raises her head and sets her jaw.
"Oh, but I do Guy. I saw you then: who you are when he is not around to bend you to his will. I understand you better than you can ever imagine because I know what it is to be someone else. In my family, I rank scarcely better than a servant and therefore have no choice but to be whatever they want me to be…
but when I was with you, I didn't have to pretend, I didn't have to hide, I didn't have to lie... and maybe I'm naïve, maybe I'm deluded, maybe I'm fooling myself but I think it was the same for you."
He freezes. Eyes wide. Mouth agape. She keeps going regardless.
"And do you know what? I would like to be that person again - the girl I was with you, but I can't be because I'm tied to people who won't let me – my father, Natalia, Winchester. But whenever I get chance, I still try to be that girl because I won't let them erase her completely, I won't have them trample on who I am and the only way to do that is to try." She pauses to breathe, to slow herself down, the words tumbled out of her, held back by years upon years of keeping them to herself, but now she can tell him because this is something he needs to understand if there's to be any chance for him to back down.
"Will you try for me Guy? Try for yourself? To be who you really are without his shadow looming over you? Her death achieves nothing; it is not right or just. All it will be is one more instance of him forcing you to live with another life lost. Was Lambert not enough? How many more Guy? Do you think it will ever stop? And more to the point, do you want it to?" She tilts her head and looks at him now. Really looks at him. Willing him to listen.
"Then open the door and let Mary in."
She moves away now. Exhausted. Has worn herself out with her monologue.
Sadly to no avail, for he makes no move to open the door and it doesn't look as if he is going to. He will choose Vaisey just as he always has.
She sighs and goes to check on Marian, little realising he is following her.
The Lady of Knighton makes for a sorry sight. Pale. Weak. Forlorn. Thornton smiles wanly, that's how Francesca knows she still lives but the sad look that follows says all one needs to know. She lowers herself to sit at Marian's other side and takes her hand in her own, gently stroking her palm with her thumb. Her thoughts drift to Sir Edward, how terrible it will be for him to lose his daughter and the tears are flowing then, she can't hold them back.
Guy is hovering nearby and she senses him. She looks up at him in one last silent plea.
Look at her Guy.
Please... don't do this...
don't have me sit here and watch her die...
Silence. Bowed heads. Darkness and despair. The sand in the hourglass runs low. The candle flickers and sputters in the corner of the room. She sighs and squeezes Marian's hand.
It happens then.
The wonder.
He had given no sign of it with those cold eyes boring into her, but finally he relents.
The sound of the door being opened is the sweetest sound in the world.
Mary Lambert is with them in a heartbeat and yet Francesca barely registers because all she can see is him
and then…
he is gone.
