PART II: DARK WARRIOR
CHAPTER 15
The bad old times had returned to Nottingham.
The Sheriff knew it would take so many days for King John to reach London. What he did not know was how serious the monarch might have been in his threat to have the Sheriff's head fill in for Robin Hood's on a pike if the law-wolf proved unequal to the challenge of bringing the outlaw to justice. Thus, no sooner had the royal carriage pulled away then he went into a panic, issuing orders for taxes to be tripled in Nottinghamshire and the surrounding territories in order to pay for an increased reward. When the Earl calmly pointed out that the Sheriff alone lacked the authority to impose such a tax hike, he implored the new Lord of the Castle to grant such authority upon him, for that would surely be what the king wanted. The Earl resisted, insisting that the apprehension of Robin Hood was the Sheriff's responsibility, and the cat noble could not condone subjecting the people of Nottingham to undue financial hardship to compensate for the Sheriff's failure to do his job.
This did not sit well with the Sheriff, who then took it upon himself to initiate his own tax policy. In the following days he and his troops went from house to house, hitting every residence in his jurisdiction, extracting fees from homeowners whether they could easily afford it or not. Nor did the wealthy landowners and nobles escape his attentions; rich and poor alike were forced to contribute their share, although the former were far less likely to feel the pinch in their purse. For the peasant classes, however, this new strain on their monetary resources quickly took its toll, forcing them to cut back on essentials like food and clothes that they could barely afford in the first place. The Earl looked askance at this practice, having to deflect the complaints of the more vocal members of the upper class who took the Sheriff's actions as an insult. The Sheriff, however, had greater strength of arms in his own forces than the Earl did in his entire castle guards, and the other nobles didn't want to risk treasonous action by combining their forces to challenge the king's local law enforcer. In this instance, at least, might made right, and the Sheriff did not flinch from using all the might at his disposal.
Soon the coffers were filling up enough to allow the Sheriff to raise the reward for Robin Hood to an unprecedented fifteen thousand pounds. If his aim was to inconvenience the upper classes, then he succeeded. The only problem was, none of them were close enough to the outlaw to provide the Sheriff any useful information that might lead to his capture. As for the peasantry, they were not about to turn over their former hero, and not just for reasons sentimental or honorable; if this was just a taste of things to come, they knew they would need Robin Hood on their side more than ever before. They stuck together as the nobility did not, turning to barter and exchange for each other's goods and services when their money ran out. It truly was a return to the bad old days, although they remained confident that, if they all stood by each other, they would weather this storm.
Unfortunately, they had no idea how bad things were about to get. A shadow of war, black and unforgiving, was soon to descend upon Nottingham, and this threat would show far less mercy than the Sheriff ever had...
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Contrary to Sir Hiss's previous assurances, King John found the royal court of London to be even more packed with sycophants and sandal-lickers than Nottingham ever was or ever would be. The coronation was thrilling, and very nearly enough to take his mind off Robin Hood, with nobles converging upon England's great city from all corners of the country to witness this historical occasion and pay homage to both the old king and the new one. John was in his element as he reveled in the magnificent pageantry of it all, wallowing in the attention and adoration being heaped upon him. And if some of that adoration was less than genuine, John was not about to let that bother him.
The days that followed the coronation were one long, anticlimactic slide into dull and dreary routine. The visiting nobles, having bestowed their respects and well wishes upon the new king, departed for their respective districts, leaving London considerably less populated and festive than before. And while John would never grow tired of having the resources of an entire nation at his beck and call, he quickly discovered that sitting on the throne - legitimately, this time - carried with it a certain level of drudgery that he simply could not avoid, as much as he wanted to. He ended up with so many advisors and would-be advisors that they all began to blur together in his mind, and he started to long for the bygone days when Hiss was the full extent of such personages in his royal life.
That serpent was not in attendance for the present gathering, which stood as the latest in a nonstop parade of personages who viewed themselves as either essential to the running of England or deserving of special favor for service to the crown, real or imagined, usually by familial ancestors who had long ago left the living. At this luncheon, which resurrected unwelcome memories in John's mind of a certain other interrupted midday meal at Castle Nottingham, the main offender for sapping his time and trying his patience was a bore of a polecat who called himself the Duke of Basingstoke, and insisted upon ruining the king's appetite with a detailed and seemingly endless litany of all that his district was doing for the royal cause and all the rewards he was expecting in return. Several times John nearly dismissed the fussy, effete nuisance, but it could not be denied that such nobles formed the interlocking power structure upon which the monarchy was built, and so he felt obligated to indulge the annoying windbag until such time as he could execute a more diplomatic withdraw that would save face for both of them.
But another figure at this audience was not so patient with such a level of buffoonery that was so obviously trying their new sovereign. The muscular black panther seated across the table from Basingstoke had not uttered so much as a word during this lopsided discourse, and had in fact arrived at his seat in the king's presence almost as a ghost, flowing in with the other dignitaries without formally announcing himself or introducing himself to John. Perhaps all the Dukes and Earls and Barons merely assumed the formidable feline belonged to one of the other noble houses represented there, and thus it never occurred to them that he might be his own important personage, in spite of his seat within spitting distance of King John. The panther was now about to cast aside his anonymity in a most memorable manner.
"And then there is the matter of my region's snuff production, Sire," Basingstoke was saying to John, "which is a commodity of considerable importance to the whole of England, as I'm sure you'll agree once I enumerate the various networks of suppliers and customers who are dependent upon this trade. I could spend the rest of this afternoon just sharing the details of this subject with you, but I shall endeavor to be more brief than that, so that this lunch does not become dinner as well, ha ha! Um, you there - " he wagged a paw toward the taciturn panther, " - would you be so kind as to pass me a clean knife so I can slice my bread? Mine seems to have gotten some wine specks upon it, and is most unusable for the task... "
In one fluid, flowing motion, the panther rose halfway from his seat, drawing his sword and bringing it up, around and down in a single sweep, cleaving the polecat's loaf in two. "There - now you do not need my knife."
Basingstoke stared aghast at the blade bisecting the bread on his plate, struck momentarily speechless by such a bald display of savage aggression in these august surroundings. Finding his tongue, he stammered at the panther, "Who are you to show such impudence? I am the Duke of Basingstoke! Holder of five estates, overseer of seven trade guilds and lord of the lands bordering the main Southampton road!"
The swordsbeast returned the Duke's mortified stare with a cold, unyielding gaze. "I am Sir Guy of Gisbourne," he replied, "and I kill people."
At this provocative proclamation, several of the royal guards tensed and moved forward, prepared to protect their sovereign in case of an assassination attempt. However, since Gisbourne seemed intent only upon Basingstoke and the Duke's meal, no sword crossed the panther's.
The sputtering polecat looked toward King John. "Y-Your Majesty, this outburst is intolerable, and utterly beyond the pale!"
"The only thing intolerable here," Gisbourne sneered, "is your incessant prattle that steals irretrievable moments from our lives. Perhaps the king is too refined to speak so plainly, but I am a simple warrior who journeyed with King Richard to the harsh lands of Palestine in our quest to liberate Jerusalem from the Turks, so let me do so on his behalf, and implore you to cease your ceaseless jabbering!"
"You... you DARE to presume to speak for His Royal Highness!" Basingstoke looked to King John. "Your Majesty, I must insist that you discipline this ill-mannered brute in the harshest possible terms, and at once!"
To his chagrin, the nonplussed polecat found John fighting to contain his gleeful chuckles. "Ah, ah ha, yes, of course. Immediate discipline. A good suggestion, my good Duke. If you would please be so kind as to withdraw, so that this offender and I may consider his proper punishment... "
John so finessed his request that the indignant Duke didn't even realize he was being dismissed. Basingstoke stood and sauntered from the tables, trying to convey his displeasure by stomping to compensate for his slight frame, and ending up merely looking ineffectively ridiculous. John could only shake his head. If the polecat was typical of those running England these days, it was small wonder things were so bad. But at least one diner here had shown some spine, if in a reckless fashion. He beckoned the panther to come before him.
"That was rather bold of you, my friend. I do not recognize you by face or by title. What did you say your name was again?"
His fellow feline, sword safely resheathed, spread his paws wide and performed a deep bow. "Sir Guy of Gisbourne, at your service, Majesty. Forgive me if I overstepped my bounds, but I was finding the Duke insufferable to the point of having my meal spoiled, and I suspected you felt the same."
"Ah. So you came to my rescue, eh?" John interrogated, secretly delighted that Sir Guy had created such a spectacle to puncture the tedious routine of palace life. "Well, before I decide whether to commend you or, as the Duke would prefer, discipline you, tell me a little more about yourself. Did I hear you correctly that you accompanied my brother to the Holy Land during his Crusade?"
"That I did, Your Highness. We were even captives together for a time in the Turks' prison. I served Richard most faithfully, and would gladly have given my life for him. And now that you are king, I seek to do no less for you."
"A most generous offering, Sir Guy. However, you should not expect another Crusade anytime soon. And I do not foresee any other campaigns on the horizon that might allow you an opportunity to exercise your knightly skills."
"A trained and seasoned warrior always stands at the ready to serve England, whether in times of hoped-for peace or war unbidden."
"Well put, well put." John rose from his cushioned seat and beckoned for Gisbourne to accompany him to one corner of the audience chamber, with several of the royal guards in tow. "Come, let us go over where there are not so many listening ears, so that we may discuss your, ah, 'punishment' in a little more privacy."
Once they were at a safe remove from the rest of the nobles and their hangers-on, King John asked Gisbourne conspiratorially, "What do you know of Robin Hood?"
"King Richard always spoke very highly of Robin of Locksley. But as I understand it, that fox has returned to his outlaw ways, a slap in the face to the regal monarch who pardoned him for his previous crimes. I have never met him, and his exploits have never directly affected me. Nottingham is, after all, a long way from London... "
"It is closer than you think. Robin Hood is back in Sherwood Forest, and more audacious than ever. He... he made an attempt on my life."
Gisbourne raised an eyebrow. "So it is true? I had heard... things. But one never knows how much stock to place in castle gossip. How did you manage to survive that treachery, Sire?"
"I fought him to a standstill. My brother was not the only one in this family who knows how to handle a sword, you know. That coward's resolve gave out before he could carry out what he'd come to do - stealing into my bedchambers in the dead of night like the despicable thief that he is. I'm lucky he didn't slit my throat!"
"Such an outrage surely is the ultimate act of treason, Your Majesty. I would say that Robin Hood has forfeited any protection King Richard's pardon extended him. A thief is bad enough, but an assassin... "
"An assassin thief who laughs at us from his hiding place deep in the woods, thinking he is beyond all justice," John said. "Such a state of affairs is not to be tolerated, Sir Guy. You say you wish to serve me as you served my brother. How would you have dealt with someone who tried to kill Richard?"
"Many did try, during the Crusade. I put them in their graves whenever I could."
"Exactly." John steepled his paws before him. "Robin Hood must die. Do you believe you could succeed at this where so many others have failed?"
"If those are your orders, Majesty, I am yours to command."
"Splendid, splendid! Then you can consider this assignment your penance for your unbecoming conduct with the Duke just now. And if you should succeed, the reward I am offering is considerable... "
"With all due respect, Your Highness, Mother England has always seen to my needs and kept me in a most comfortable manner in return for my service. I am not interested in any reward - only in carrying out my orders."
"Very well. If you should change your mind on that score, the coffers will always have plenty to spare for you. Do you think you could leave for Nottingham by the morning?"
"I will leave tonight if you wish it, My Liege."
"No need to be quite that hasty. I must prepare official orders for the Earl and the Sheriff of Nottingham to ensure their cooperation, and see to it that they know to provide you with whatever you require. I hardly expect you to take care of Robin Hood all by yourself... "
"In a situation such as this, Majesty, perhaps a solitary hunter will have better chances at success than a whole squad of soldiers blundering around the forest. That hasn't worked so far, from what I hear - and if the objective is to root him out of his hidden lair, stealth might be far more effective than brute force."
"Perhaps... perhaps. I will leave strategy and tactics to you, of course. I merely wish to make sure you have whatever resources you need to accomplish your mission. I will brook no interference from anyone who might hinder your progress - something you must make sure everyone in Nottingham understands most clearly."
"They will understand, Your Highness. I will see to that."
"Very good. Excellent, even. In the morning, then. Meanwhile, eat and drink your fill... oh, and try not to upset any more of the nobles. They can be so troublesome when they get their fur mussed, you understand."
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Sir Guy insisted upon meeting privately with John in order to learn everything the lion could tell him about Robin Hood. In a session that lasted through a special dinner delivered to the king's chambers, Gisbourne pumped the monarch for every fact, incident and rumor that could be provided about the archer fox's history. John had Sir Hiss attend as well, both as a witness and to provide his own insights into the matter. And if John deigned not to divulge any details that reflected particularly poorly upon him, Hiss saw fit not to contradict his master or fill in such gaps himself.
After Gisbourne left and John was alone in his chambers with Sir Hiss, he could not help but revel in the day's unforeseen discovery.
"Just think, Hiss - all that time I spent in Nottingham, putting off my coronation in order to solve the problem of Robin Hood, when all along the very solution to that dilemma may have been waiting for me here in London. Oh, what a fool I've been!"
The serpent, too happy himself to be back where he felt he belonged after so long, avoided agreeing with his ruler too quickly on that particular point. "But, Ssire, are you sure thiss Guy of Gisbourne is trusstworthy? He was by his own admission very loyal to your brother. How sure can we be that that loyalty has translated to you?"
"You heard him yourself, Hiss. It's precisely because he was so devoted to Richard that he considers Robin Hood's betrayal especially odious. Sir Guy is just the kind of subject that every citizen of England should be: totally dedicated to crown and and country, no matter who is sitting on the throne. He will root out that criminal because his king has ordered him to, and he will do it with no less enthusiasm than if that order had come from Richard instead of me."
"Perhapssss... or perhapss he sseekss to go to Nottingham to join Robin Hood's cause againsst you... "
"Nonsense! If he'd simply wanted to do that, he could have slipped out of London and journeyed to Sherwood without my ever knowing, and certainly without making such a scene in my presence. I had never even heard of him before today, and neither, apparently, had most of the other nobles. He is a knight, a warrior, not a creature of the court. Then again," John went on, totally contradicting his earlier profession of confidence in Gisbourne, "if he does seek to play me false and make a fool out of me, well, let's just say I've taken that contingency into account as well... "
"Oh?"
"I am assigning a score of royal guards to accompany him to Nottingham... and the captain of that detachment will have secret orders to slay Gisbourne the moment he shows that he might have other ideas than ferreting out Robin Hood. So, either way, I will have all contingencies covered, and I can just sit back and put this whole sordid matter out of my mind until I hear further news from that region."
"Well, yesss, I ssuppose... "
"Not even you, Hiss, with all your pessimistic pontification, can gainsay this strategy. It is simplicity itself! Gisbourne disposes of Robin Hood, or my captain disposes of him." Preparing himself for bed, John removed his crown and placed that treasured ornament upon its own miniature silk divan, then shrugged out of his robes and draped them over a convenient highbacked chair. "But, I sincerely hope Sir Guy is what he claims to be. If so, fate may have dropped the solution to the Robin Hood problem right into my lap. It's about time fortune began smiling on me, after the last two years I've had. Perhaps, by this time next season, I will be rid of that outlaw once and for all. Lord knows, Gisbourne certainly can't do any worse than the Sheriff has."
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There was no parting fanfare or ceremony to see Sir Guy of Gisbourne off the following morning. King John met the panther in the courtyard by one castle gate in the predawn mists, his contingent of royal guards at his side. John handed Sir Guy the scroll containing instructions for the Sheriff and the Earl, then informed the warrior of the twenty soldiers who would accompany him to Nottingham.
Gisbourne bridled a bit at this unexpected company. "Your Majesty, these extra fighters really are not necessary... "
John's eyes narrowed. "Oh, but I insist... "
Sir Guy, picking up on the tone of his sovereign's decree, merely bowed low in gratitude. "Your Highness is too kind."
"I know. Bring me back Robin Hood's head, and I will show you the full depth of my kindness. Good luck, Gisbourne."
John turned to go back inside, leaving Gisbourne and his unbidden troops to file through the gate and commence their long march to Nottingham.