CHAPTER NINETEEN
Things were busy in the kitchens at Castle Nottingham. Lunch was over, and while half the staff occupied themselves with cleaning up from the midday meal, the other half were deep in preparations for dinner. Florence, as always, took charge of the latter, following her prepared menu and coordinating all the ingredients and cooking times for the various recipes.
Into the midst of this culinary hustle and bustle strode Sir Guy.
Immediately, everything came to a complete halt. Washed pots and pans were forgotten in mid-scrub, and half-prepared dishes were left to sit neglected upon counter and tabletop. An unaccustomed silence fell over the room as every expectant eye turned Gisbourne's way.
"Ah, good! Now that I have your attention, I have a few questions for you. Who here was involved in mealtime preparations the night the attempt was made on King John's life?"
Nearly every paw went up, although some more hesitantly than others.
"Very good. Now, those of you who've got your paws up, take a good look at those who don't, and point out any who might be showing some 'forgetfulness' in this matter ... "
Many glances were exchanged, but no new paws went up.
"Ah. You are all either very truthful, very good at covering for each other, or very convinced in your ability to maintain your innocence. So to my next question: Who here was in charge of preparing dinner the night Robin Hood tried to kill King John?"
Florence gamely stepped forward, while everyone else lowered their arms. "That would be me, Sir Guy. I choose the menu items that night, just as I always do, and prepared the ingredients according to my old family recipes."
"Then you are the one I wish to speak with. The rest of you, go about your business!" Gisbourne stepped over to the squirrel while the rest of the kitchen staff tried their best to ignore the imminent confrontation, burying their snouts in their work. "So tell me, my good lady, do your 'old family recipes' include sleeping potions?"
Florence hung her head. "The events of that night are a shame to my name and my reputation. I was betrayed by a friend I thought I could trust, who would not even have been in this castle were it not for me. She worked with Robin Hood, helping his charade to get him in here and spiking my meal right under my nose. I have offered the Earl my resignation over this matter, but he is a extremely gracious sort and agreed to overlook my poor judgment and keep me on."
"And are you certain that mere poor judgment was the full extent of your guilt in this incident?"
"By my mother's cherished recipe file, I swear I had no clue what they intended, and played no part in that conspiracy. I was even laid low by that treachery myself. No less a personage than King John himself could tell you that I was laid out on this very floor as a result of that nefarious plot. The Earl will certainly confirm this as well, along with the Sheriff. I was a victim along with everyone else."
"I find it hard to believe that your dinner could be tainted by the assassins right in front of you without your knowledge ... or cooperation."
Florence swept her arm around her. "Take a look for yourself, Sir Guy. We must make three meals a day, every day, for everyone in this castle. It gets so busy down here, it would have been very easy to introduce an extra ingredient into a complicated recipe, and it would never be noticed in all the confusion ... not if the perpetrator was trying to hide it."
"Hmm. Don't you taste your creations before serving them?"
"Sometimes yes, sometime not. But Robin Hood might have chosen a formula he knew would not affect the flavor so that anyone would notice. Let's face it, nobody would have eaten a full portion of that course if it hadn't tasted right ... "
"You certainly do have all the answers, don't you? Then let's try this one: Whose idea was it to serve the king a different dish that night?"
"Why, mine, of course. Just two days earlier, King John paid me a special visit here to compliment me on that recipe, so I decided to treat him to it again. And a good thing that I did, otherwise he might have been asleep too when Robin Hood stole into his bedchamber. In that way at least, fortune smiled upon him that night."
"So you are saying Robin Hood acted with just the help of his otter laundress, and no one else?"
"If any other was involved, I cannot think who it might be."
"Ah. And you disavow having any previous relationship with Robin Hood prior to that night?"
"I never said that. For two years I served in the Locksley household, as the Earl well knows. After Sir Robin was declared an outlaw again, the Earl sought to engage me as his head cook, a position I had previously enjoyed prior to leaving here to join the Locksley staff at the insistence of Lady Marian. And, before you think to cast any aspersions on the good Earl himself, let me assure you that his eagerness to have me rejoin his staff had everything to do with his high regard for my culinary skills and nothing to do with any loyalty or fondness he may have felt for Sir Robin. The Earl knows better than to cast his lot with an outlaw."
"Two years, eh? You served that fox daily for two years, and yet you never even suspected that he was standing right here before you? I find that very hard to credit."
"It was a most convincing disguise, Sir. Just ask anyone here who saw it. Perhaps another otter might have been able to see through it, and perhaps not. And the fact that he came in with Bettina, claiming to be her brother, a claim she also supported ... well, two otters going about as a pair. Who ever would have suspected one of them might be Robin Hood?"
"You do realize, your prior history and closeness with the Locksleys makes you extremely suspect?"
"My claim of innocence has been good enough to suit the Earl," Florence said defiantly. "Nor has the Sheriff been able to uncover any proof of my involvement."
Gisbourne leaned in close to her. "Yes, but I am not the Earl. And you will find I most certainly am not the Sheriff." Stepping back, the panther said, "I will wish to speak with you further on this matter, of course. Until such time, I will let you get back to your duties." He turned and stalked from the kitchens.
One of the other members of the kitchen staff, an older spaniel named Beatrice, padded over to Florence. "Flo, are you in trouble here?"
The squirrel realized she was trembling in spite of all her bravado and confidence that Sir Guy would never be able to pin anything on her. "I don't know," she replied. "I just don't know."
"Well, for your sake, I hope not," Beatrice said, gazing after the departed panther. "'Cos I wager that's not anyone you'd want to be in trouble with!"
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Florence didn't allow her misgivings to interfere with her dinner preparations, turning out yet another of her consistently splendid meals for all to savor. Gisbourne dined with the Earl and the Sheriff in the main dining hall, sharing a table with the joint overseers of Nottingham.
"Sir Guy," the Earl ventured with some trepidation, as if broaching a subject he preferred to let lie, "a number of my staff have come to me with reports that you have been somewhat ... overbearing in your questioning of them today."
The panther paused in mid-sip, staring at the white cat over the rim of his goblet. "My good Earl, we have a problem like Robin Hood to contend with, and your primary concern is that my manner may ruffle a few feathers or muss some fur among your lackeys?"
"I did not say that. But this court contains many staunch and goodhearted souls who are absolutely faithful to the crown. You do your own mission no favors by treating allies to your cause with such suspicion. Your method of questioning has taken many of them aback."
Sir Guy set down his goblet. "Well, that is the funny thing, Earl - I keep asking questions, and I have yet to receive any answers that make sense to me. I will therefore keep asking my questions, in whatever manner I choose, until I am satisfied that I understand the situation fully."
"It's simply that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar," the Earl said. "You may be defeating your own purpose if you put off the ones who might be of most help to you ... "
"Of most help, you say?" Gisbourne turned to the wolf at his elbow. "Sheriff, have you had any complaints this day from your guards and soldiers concerning my ... brusque attitude?"
"Er, no, not that I heard tell of ... "
Sir Guy returned his gaze to the Earl. "Then I would say the ones who really matter have no problem with me, for they understand this crisis. Castle Nottingham is now a military garrison, under my command, and will remain such until Robin Hood has been dealt with. Your staff had better get used to this fact, Earl, and quickly."
The feline noble pushed his food about on his plate with an idle knife, his appetite suddenly much diminished. "I will enjoin them all to cooperate fully, Sir Guy, in the hopes that this situation may be made right in the timeliest possible fashion."
"Most wise, Earl. The sooner that outlaw is brought to justice, the sooner I will be out of your fur, and you'll have this castle all to yourself again." Gisbourne pushed back his chair and stood. "Sheriff, if I may have a word with you alone?"
As the wolf and panther walked, the Sheriff became more and more convinced that this was the moment Sir Guy had chosen to carry out King John's threat upon his life. Gisbourne led the two of them up one flight of stairs after another after another, until there could be no doubt where they were headed. The Sheriff had attended dinner unarmed, but Sir Guy wore his ever-present sword - had not, in fact, been seen without it since his arrival the evening before. And after the way he had upbraided the Earl just now, in full sight of the lesser nobles attending the evening meal, the Sheriff did not doubt that this fearsome fighter was capable of anything. He was utterly fearless, utterly ruthless, and utterly had the king's authority on his side. The question was, what were the king's orders regarding the Sheriff?
Why oh why, the wolf lamented to himself, had he not at least thought to arm himself with a hidden dagger? Preferably, a poisoned one?
At last they reached the bedchamber, last occupied by King John himself, at the very top of the highest tower. Gisbourne ushered the Sheriff within, then followed himself, closing the door tightly. The two stood regarding each other, one a gaze of uncertain fear, the other of ...
"I think we should be able to talk in here without being overhead," Gisbourne began.
The trembling Sheriff nodded mutely.
"Sheriff, let us get one thing straight right up front: You are incompetent, ineffective, stupid, lazy, self-centered and boorish. You are also, by King John's own decree, to be trusted. And after what I have seen and heard today, I suspect you may be the only one here I can trust."
The Sheriff couldn't decide whether to be offended at the slew of disparagement or relieved that the king still thought him trustworthy.
"The situation here is far worse than I could have imagined. I am convinced that this court is positively riddled with Robin Hood's sympathizers, from lowly servants and messengers all the way up to some of the nobles, and perhaps even the Earl himself. It is no wonder that outlaw has been able to move so audaciously within Nottingham, and even this castle itself, with so many to feed him information and lend him aid. These traitors to the crown must be rooted out, Sheriff - rooted out to their very last one, hauled out into the light of day and exposed for all to see, so that they may then be properly dealt with. I will not have enemy sympathizers within my own stronghold, frustrating my efforts and throwing up roadblocks in my way while I try to deal with the true enemy who resides in Sherwood Forest."
The panther stepped closer to his companion. "Sheriff, I must have your complete cooperation in this matter. Our task ahead will not be an easy one, but we must not falter, and we must not hesitate to do what needs to be done. If you do not have the stomach for it, I need to know now. Can I count on you follow my lead, support me without question, and place the full resources of your force of arms at my disposal?"
The Sheriff wasn't sure what to say; the royal orders Gisbourne had brought with him from London already granted him everything he'd just asked for, whether the Sheriff and the Earl approved or not. Instead he asked, "Do you really think you can get Robin Hood?"
Sir Guy's lips parted, revealing an even double row of sharp fangs. "Robin Hood will die by my paw. This I swear."
For the first time since Sir Guy had entered Castle Nottingham, the Sheriff allowed himself a smile. The wolf extended his meaty paw and took the black hunter's strong one in his own. "Then ah'm with ya, right to that fox's grave!"