Aside from Heaven

Chapter 02

The Ghost of Ripley's Convent

A Manna from Heaven Tale

Genevieve curled tighter in Guy's embrace. Despite the heat going full throttle in the room, there was still a chill, a chill that came when she asked him, 'What happened?'

'I died, Genevieve.'

She smacked his chest, the sound echoing through the dark room, before she pulled the blanket up to her chin. 'I know that! But somehow, you are here. You had a son. Did you see him? Did you give everything to his mother? What happened to Joffrey and Michael the Red? Thornton and Eleanor? Robin, to Friar Tuck, to Much? Please tell me Kate died! What happened?'

'You really want to know?'

'Everything.'

Guy looked down at her with a scowl. 'Everything?'

She peeked up at him from beneath the quilts. 'I know you married, I pray you loved, and that you were loved back and that you didn't go through the ages alone and lonely. I know you had children. I'm sure you did awesome things. I'm sure you did awful things.'

'Dreadful things.' It was quiet for a moment, the floodgates of his mind opening and memories pouring through.

'I want to know how you got here to me.'

~~~...~~~

Timeline – 1196 – The Siege of Nottingham and immediately afterward, approximately 2 weeks.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

It came out of nowhere, whispered in the heat of screaming and the sound of fire. Tuck turned towards the man who uttered such silliness. "This is not the time."

"There may be no other time."

Again, Tuck tried to redirect the Black Knight. "I do not believe I am the man for this particular job."

Sir Guy looked down his long nose. "I trust no one else for this particular confession."

Tuck inhaled.

"Please. I will be quick." He shook his head and whispered in the friar's ear. "I do not think I will survive this siege and if I do not tell someone, my title, fortune, and lands will die with me."

Tuck's head jerked. "You have an heir?"

"Yes."

Tuck blinked twice. "Somewhere quiet. Quickly." Guy knew the castle like the back of his hand, knew where the hidey holes, the quiet places, the safe places. Within a minute, the two men were in someone's chambers, Guy making quick work of checking out the room, ensuring their privacy.

"Forgi-"

"Just talk." Tuck waved him off. "No formalities."

The tall man seemed to ponder for a moment. "A few years ago, I sired a child, a boy, on one of the servant girls here in Nottingham." Once started, it came out in a rush. "I was lonely, lied to her, promised her many things and when the boy arrived...I did not believe he was mine until I laid eyes on him." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "For a time however, she pleased me and I did harbor some tender feelings for her."

"Are they here?"

"No." Guy shook his head with an angry whisper. "I told her I would send him to Kirksley, to be raised, educated. Actually," he shrugged elegantly with one shoulder, "that was my final intention; however I did a wretched thing, one I pray she will find in her heart to forgive me for someday."

Tuck held his breath.

"I... used him as bait... to lure Hood. The ruse worked, however, rather than my capturing Hood or any of his men, he escaped and held on to the boy, kept him safe. Annie found out, attacked me and disappeared." By now, Gisborne had turned away from the friar, tension obvious in his spine. "As Hood was the last to have the child, I suspect he aided Annie in taking him somewhere safe. I pray they are safe."

"And you wish for me to absolve you of this?"

"No," Guy whispered over his shoulder. "I want to ensure you live so you can find them and take them to Ripley's Convent."

The priest was now shaking his head. "I am confused."

Gisborne turned back to face the friar, his words hissing furiously through his teeth. "I have taken a goodly sum of money to Ripley's and spoken to the Mother Superior there. There is a written document, sealed with my signet and mark, stating that Seth is my heir. My title and whatever lands I possess, if I am not dispossessed, belong to him and his descendants. The money is to be used to educate him, teach him to become a knight or whatever trade he chooses."

Tuck took a moment to take all this in. "This is," he continued to shake his head, "an amazing request."

"I have done many people wrong in my life. I have destroyed almost everything and everyone I have ever loved." The man's voice was soft, almost... reverent. Pulling at the ties at his neck, he pulled out a silver chain with a delicate, almost feminine cross dangling at the bottom. For a moment, Tuck thought he recognized the piece of jewelry, a remnant of a memory he could not quite grasp. "This is one of the few things I can lay to right in this life. I must put it right." Still clutching the crucifix, he looked at the friar with more sincerity than the man ever knew existed. "Hood, Much, or Little John will know. Please find her. Find them." He tucked the cross back under his shirt and re-laced it. "Tell her... I never left him, I never let him out of my sight, and I did not leave him out in Sherwood to die. I almost gave up, retrieved him. I am sorry I did it. I was stupid. I am sorry for what I put them through." With the stealth of a warrior born and bred, Guy left the room, leaving the man with his thoughts.

Tuck filed them away and hurried to the inner warehouse, his focus now on discovering the secret of Byzantine Fire.

Less than twelve hours later, both Hood and Gisborne were dead. Dead at the hands of the Sheriff and Isabella, Guy's sister.

Dead while saving the people of Nottingham. Heroes, both.

~~~...~~~

Two days later, Tuck found himself at Ripley's Convent under the watchful eye of the Mother Superior as he read the very document Sir Guy had told him of. Robin of Locksley's manservant, Much - who was still grieving the death of his master - stood by his side.

"He has died?"

Both Tuck and Much nodded slowly, Tuck engrossed in the plainly written transcript and Much, in shock.

"Honorably?"

"He died a hero." Much was much subdued. "I...I was proud to be by his side those last weeks."

The Abbess bowed her head. "And you know where this woman and her child are located?"

"Yes, I do, as does Little John," Much spoke in a low whisper. This morning, Little John spoke of going to Aquitaine at the Queen Mother's request. Everything he held dear; his family, Robin, were gone or dead. His fight with the Sheriff was over; his personal war with Nottingham was done. His wife was gone, remarried most likely; his own son had most likely forgotten him, a ghost of a memory at best. He was tired of living in the forest, constantly being hunted and perhaps it was time to put his staff to walking use and begin again. Even if he was the lowest servant in France, he would have a soft place to lay his head for a change. "Lady Marian made arrangements to place her and the baby with Lady Glasson."

"So, Lady Marian did help with the arrangements." Much nodded. "Sir Guy suspected she did." It was quiet for a moment before the woman continued. "I have one request." The Abbess had a strong voice, for one who supposedly used it so little. "Is Sir Guy's body accessible?"

This question appeared to shock both men. "Excuse me?"

The nun licked her lips. "Sir Guy left the Convent a sizable gift and," she gestured to the document still in the friar's hands, "a great responsibility. We feel it is our duty to ensure he is laid to rest properly and a mass is sung for him."

"Has the dust even settled?" Much seemed to be thinking aloud, rather than actually asking the question.

Tuck was thinking hard. "The portion of the cellar where he died and should still lay was far removed from the part of the castle that was destroyed. There is a good chance we can get to his body." He looked up at the nun. "Would you need help digging a grave?"

"I intend to put him in the crypt. A place has been made for him already." As with most monasteries and convents, Ripley's had an underground catacomb, reserved for the higher nuns and those deemed worthy. Apparently, Sir Guy had made an impression on the Abbess.

As they left, they met Archer by the horses. He refused to go in, feeling uncomfortable, in his words - a late arrival to the party. He was still stunned by the knowledge that he went from being an orphan with no family to having not one, but a sister and two brothers, knights with titles and parents who did love him. He had almost thrown it away for money and glory, only to change his mind and still lose all three without coming to know anything about his parents, his heritage, save their names. In the coming years, he would learn about Robin and his father from Much, but Guy and his mother would surely forever remain a mystery. Only whispers, what would become legend and most of it unkind.

"Bury Guy in a nun's crypt?" Archer was shaking his head. "I would rather find a shade tree to bury him under."

"Why is that?"

"Think about it," Archer was starting to smile. "My brother, buried and laid to rest with a bunch of old skeletal virgins. I didn't know him well, but I think he would consider that hell. I certainly would!" With that, he put his heels to his horse, his laughter echoing through the wood.

~~~...~~~

"Why?" Kate was furious, her raspy voice raised in the air. What was left of the gang stood in the old graveyard, a long wagon loaned to them by a farmer in Locksley for the day, backed up near the tunnel. "Why does he get a burial at Ripley's and a Mass sung for him? He killed-"

"Your brother. Yes we know. You remind us all every chance you get," Archer spat drolly. "He also gave his life to save you and us and everyone in Nottingham from certain death." He looked up into the sky. "The sun is going down and I don't wish to be here in the dark." He disappeared into the tunnel with Little John and the same stretcher they used for Robin. Much followed, carrying a large Gisborne banner he had pulled from the wall in Locksley just an hour before. Thornton thought he was stealing it, come to deface, desecrate the home, dishonor the dead, but when Much hurriedly explained what he needed it for, the man helped him pick the largest one and pull it down.

"But-"

"Kate." Tuck gently laid his hand on her shoulder. "Sir Guy did many things he regretted towards the end of his days. I heard his last confession." He saw no need to tell the woman the knight's 'confession' had nothing to do with all of his misdeeds. "He tried to make amends the best he could and he succeeded in several. It is time to forgive and let go. If you do not, your hate and anger will consume you and define your life. Let him go. He has met his Maker face to face and will be judged accordingly, by the only one with the authority to judge him.." Grabbing one of the horses, he led it to the young woman. "Why don't you go to Ripley, tell them we will be there shortly with Sir Guy's body and to be prepared for our arrival." He handed the reins to her. "This will give you time to talk to the Lord and find forgiveness in your heart. To be forgiven, one must learn to forgive." He gave her a hand up and watched her ride away.

He waited for what seemed a long time, but eventually, the three men brought up a long body, wrapped in the banner. Sliding the stretcher into the back of the wagon, they lit the wagon lamps and with Tuck behind the horse, they began the trip to the convent.

"Probably a good thing we got him today." Much was trying to make idle chit-chat, something the knight laid out in the back would have abhorred. "Another day or two, he'd have been pretty maggoty."

"MUCH!"

The man looked a bit ashamed. "He looked pretty good, actually. I was afraid he'd jump up, yell at us or something, tell us it was a trap."

"Much!" Little John kept his eyes forward, watching for... what was he watching for? "Just shut it!"

"Sorry." He was quiet for a few minutes while they navigated the graveyard to the road. "When will we go to Annie and Seth?"

"Annie and Seth can wait a few days," Tuck had thought about this. "The gift Sir Guy has left them will wait, but the healing of Nottingham will not. We need to tend to this flock first and next week, Much and I will go to Glasson Hall and see if she and the boy are still there. At the very least, we will take the two to Ripley's so the Abbess can tell her herself what Sir Guy has bequeathed to her and the boy."

"She might not listen," Little John was shaking his head. "She was quite angry."

Much was nodding in agreement. "That she was."

~~~...~~~

For the fourth day in a row, the servants at Glasson Hall were quiet and subdued. Rumors of an explosion at Nottingham Castle had reached the Hall six days before, confirmation coming two days later. The castle was destroyed, messengers said. The lady had been worried until word of her nephew, who lived near the fortress, came stating he was safe.

For not the first time, Annie wondered of Sir Guy. As much as she hated to admit it - and never would aloud - she missed him, wondered how he was. On one hand, she was still furious with him, hated him, for abandoning their child in the woods to die. Thank the Saints for Robin Hood. For that, she would never forgive him.

But on the other, he awoke something in her, something that made her cry in the night. Her hand could not mimic his touch, his kisses were not a faint memory. There wasa sweet, gentle side to him, one that he shown her in the deep of the night, that awoke such passion in her. A few months back, the blacksmith started coming around to her little cottage assigned to her by the lady. He brought her gifts, things made for Seth, who as he grew older, looked more and more like his father. Already, he was taller than the other children his age and his black curls were unruly. But the most startling thing were his eyes - sky blue and ringed with dark lashes - which turned stormy gray when he was angered. The child's temper was fierce and one she strove to teach him to control.

When she realized the blacksmith was courting her, she invited him to dine with them on Sundays. He was a nice enough man, hardworking and well-off. He was a good man, respected in the village. Despite his brawn, he was a gentle soul, and she liked him well enough, but his kisses, while nice, left her wanting more.

They weren't... Guy's. That man could coax honey from a beehive.

A swarming beehive.

She suspected the blacksmith would ask for her hand by Christ's Mass and she wondered if she should tell him the truth about Seth before then. All assumed she was a widow; that her husband had been killed by the Sheriff of Nottingham. She didn't think Sir Guy would come knocking on her door, demanding the child.

If he lived.

And that's what was occupying her mind day in and day out when word of the destruction of Nottingham came to her lady's manor. There were rumors, wild rumors, the sheriff was dead, the sheriff was alive, Guy had a sister, she was the sheriff, she was in the dungeon, put there by Guy himself, Sir Guy was a hero, Sir Guy was a demon, he killed Lady Marian in the Holy Land, had sacrificed her to a pagan war god; rumors persisted she married Sir Guy in the Holy Land, that she had struck him at the altar in the church in Locklsey, that Robin had married her in her dying moments. Sir Guy was dead, Robin Hood was dead, that Hood and Guy still lived and hid in the woods, now outlaws together, that Hood and Guy were brothers somehow, that they shared a brother, that Guy was the new Sheriff...

So many tales...

She kept her head down and simply listened, attempting not to show much interest, but at the same time attempting to glean as much information as possible.

She would hate to run, but if she had to...

In recent days, there had been many comings and goings, bearing news from Nottingham, the surrounding countryside. Prince John had ordered his emissary to investigate, but there were no warrants, prizes offered for Robin Hood or any of his gang.

So it was no shock when what she thought was a single man arrived, a friar, looking for the lady of the manor. As Lady Marian promised, Lady Glasson was kind, after reading the letter Lady Marian had written her, offered Annie a place first in the kitchen and eventually moving her to serve in her hall. Right now, Annie lived better than she ever dreamed in her own two room cottage, with a small garden in the back and a place with friends for her son to play. The village accepted her with open arms and finally, Annie was feeling content with her life.

"Annie." Lady Glasson stood in the doorway, watching the young woman put the linens in a wardrobe. "You have visitors."

Immediately, her heart rose into her throat. Seeing her distress, the elderly woman placed her hand over the servant's. "'I will stay with you, as it is two men from your old home in Nottingham. Come."

Still wary, Annie followed her to a small room off the main hall. Lady Glasson called it her 'receiving room', a private quiet place to sit and talk with guests. The friar was there as well as a second man. When he turned, she gasped, recognizing him. "Much!"

He looked aged, tired, grieving. With a weary smile, he took her hands. "Mistress Annie. You look well." He released her hands, but continued to smile into her eyes. "How is Seth?"

Her mistress was still standing behind her, so she chose her words careful. "Getting tall and full of mischief." She nodded, hopping he wouldn't ask more questions. "I fear not only does he look like his father, but has his fierce temper as well."

"Seth is no problem, Annie," Lady Glasson laughed. "I remember all seven of mine at that age. Tyrants, every one!"

Annie's smile did not reach her eyes. The friar had been watching her closely, making her nervous. Finally, he spoke. "Please sit. We have news for you and it might be a bit of a shock."

This was truly frightening. What news would they have for her? If Much was here, then it had to concern Guy. Annie looked at her mistress, alarm on her features.

"I am not going anywhere, Annie." Lady Glasson reached over and took her by the hand. "If you need a shoulder, I am here."

Both men looked at each other with apprehension. This was delicate, at best. "My lady," Tuck began softly. "This involves Seth's father and is... rather..."

"He was a noble, wasn't he?" Lady Glasson addressed this to Annie. Seeing the young woman's face blanche, she nodded. "I thought so. I will not castigate you. Highborn men have been romancing pretty maids for longer than I have been alive. It always ends the same." She squeezed Annie's hand. "Who is Seth's father?"

Annie struggled for a moment before answering so softly, she could barely be heard. "Sir Guy of Gisborne."

Lady Glasson thought for a few moments, nodding. "Ah. Yes, I see now. Seth does resemble him greatly. I," she paused for a moment before continuing, "saw Sir Guy on a few occasions. He was a finely wrought man. I always hoped there was more to him than simply Vaisey's lackey. Now there was an evil one for you."

Annie finally caught her breath. "You are here for a reason. Why are you looking for me and Seth?"

Tuck nodded to Much, before turning and staring out the window. This irritated the manservant, the unsavory chore being left to him. "Annie, I am sorry to tell you, but Sir Guy is dead."

The girl made no move, no sound, her only visible reaction was her free hand, clutching the knob of the chair and the white line her lips became. "I see." After a moment, she looked up, angry resolve on her face. "I do not know why you felt the need to tell me. He is nothing to me. He left our son in the wild to die."

Lady Glasson gasped at this.

Tuck's back was still to them all. He shook his head. "No. He did not."

"Yes, he-" Her angry retort was cut off by the friar's raised hand.

"No, he did not. I heard his last confession hours before he died. He... Sir Guy was a very different man the last few weeks of his life. He had many regrets and you and Seth were on his mind heavily for some time. Up until he passed."

For some minutes, the man recounted Guy's final 'confession'; how he admitted using Seth as bait, how he claimed it was his intention to take him to Kirksley after capturing Robin. In halting speech, Much recounted the last weeks of Guy's life; how he had changed in some ways, how he saved the people of Nottingham and aided in killing the sheriff. "He was a different man, those last weeks, Annie," he finished quietly. "I was proud to be by his side. I would have gladly died by his side."

Annie nodded, her knuckles and lips still white. "This is all very kind for you to come to tell me, but what does it have to do with me? He made many promises he did not keep."

"Ah," Tuck turned and smiled. "But he has. He has kept those promises. He left a bequest for Seth, for you at Ripley's Convent. If your lady can spare you for a day or two, the Mother Superior will tell you, show you."

"Show me?"

"It is in writing." Much blurted. "A fabulous inheritance. I couldn't believe it when the friar here read it." The man ran on like an out of control horse. "It's even sealed with his signet ring."

Annie did not relax. "If you've read it, why do you not just tell me now and save me the trip? And why would he go to a convent for this 'fabulous inheritance' rather than Kirkley's or here?"

"He did not know where you were," Tuck replied. "And Ripley's was safer. Vaisey had spies everywhere, but he had none at Ripley's."

"He didn't want the Sheriff or his sister to find out. They would have made yours and Seth's life a living hell."

"Protecting us to the end," Annie murmured sarcastically.

"To the end, yes." Tuck responded gently. "In the end, when he knew his life was in a noose eventually, he sought to protect you and Seth and to provide for both of you." He let the words sink in. "Will you come to Ripley's with us tomorrow?"

Annie was shaking her head. "No. He did nothing for me or for Seth when he was alive, save give us grief and terrify me. He lied to me. He lied about so much. I'm sure if he knew his life would be over, he had... regrets, but it's too little, too late. I hope he burns in hell!" She started to rise, only to be held back by her elderly mistress.

"Annie, I think you should reconsider, if not for your sake, for Seth's. Go with them tomorrow. See what the Abbess of Ripley's has to say, what Sir Guy left for Seth." Annie opened her mouth for an angry retort, but the woman put a single finger up. "If he left you money and you truly do not want it, give it to the poor, the church, the community. Save it for Seth. I would ask that you not make your decision rashly." She then nodded to the two men. "If you go to the chapel, ask Father Gregory for a bed for the evening. We have several for travelers. Annie will go with you in the morning. I will keep her darling despot while she's gone. You," she addressed Annie, "stay. We will have tea and talk about this." Calling a servant to bring refreshment for the two, the woman nodded the two men out and waited until they were gone and the tea arrived. "Come sit in front of me, where I can hold both hands. I fear my eyesight is not as good as it used to be." She waited until the young woman knelt in front of her, both hands clasped in her own. She watched as the girl's lower lip began to tremble. "You still love him, don't you?"

And Annie cried.

~~~...~~~

They arrived at the Abbey late in the afternoon, almost dark. Rather than be taken straight away to the Abbess's chambers to read the document, they were fed in silence, shown to cells to sleep in, the men separated from the nuns. It was cold in the cell, the bed hard and the young woman did not sleep well. She missed her little home, she missed her son.

She was haunted with memories; memories she had suppressed since she left Nottingham to start anew, to give Seth a chance. She remembered the look on Sir Guy's face when she told him she was expecting - he didn't believe the babe was his, she could see it in his eyes. He was the only man she ever lay with, she prayed for a boy, a boy with his distinct features so as to prove this was their child.

She remembered the first time he held the babe, the look of shock when the dark knight pulled the blanket back to see, yes, this was without a doubt, his child. That look of wonderment...

That look, the moment he laid eyes... it was not false.

"What have you named him?" His voice was hoarse.

"I have waited for you, my lord. It is the father's right to name the child."

"What would you like to name him?"

At that moment, her heart sank. For the first time, she feared he would deny her, deny the babe...

"My father's name was Seth-"

"Then name him Seth." Sir Guy held the babe for a long time, until he woke wanting to be fed. He inspected him - fingers, toes - gazed at him in wonderment. When Seth grabbed Sir Guy's pinkie, the knight smiled. "He has a strong grip. He will be a wondrous swordsman."

And when he finally handed Seth back, he informed her that no child of his would be raised to be a kitchen brat and he walked out. He came often - usually late at night, when the castle was resting, to look, to simply... gaze, to hold him. After a few weeks, he told her he intended to send him to Kirkley's, to be educated - more than Annie thought he would offer. To be educated was expensive, especially at a place like Kirkley's.

And then it all went wrong.

If what this friar... if what Much... told her was true, Sir Guy always did intend to educate Seth. Truly, she didn't want anything for herself. She wasn't sure she wanted this... late gift.

But Lady Glasson was a formidable mistress and Annie promised her she would make no decision until she heard the Abbess out and then discussed it and the possibilities with her. It bothered Annie to no end that feelings she thought were long gone for the father of her baby were in truth, still close to the surface.

It made for a difficult night.

The next morning, after they broke their fast in silence with the sisters, the three were led to the abbess's office, where a large piece of parchment was unrolled and Friar Tuck read to her.

Annie listened quietly to the words, watching the friar's finger as he under scored them as he read, but mostly, she was riveted to the seal at the bottom, wax, with Sir Guy's sigil, a wolf, pressed into it. She knew that sign, he had a tattoo on his arm. She had toyed with it many a night when he stayed with her for hours after he had lain with her. She had heard many maids complain that their lovers would roll over, leave after taking their needs out on a woman's body, not worrying if their lover was satisfied or not, but Sir Guy... liked to cuddle, strangely enough. He never left her wanting.

"I don't understand." Annie wasn't stupid, not by a long shot, but this...

The Abbess had the kindest eyes - well, next to Lady Glasson's... the woman put a restraining hand on Friar Tuck's arm. "Poor child. She's overwhelmed."

"To say the least." Annie searched the room for a familiar face. "Much?" His face came alive at being asked. "What does this mean? What did he do?"

Much shuffled across the room. "Well, basically, he made Seth his heir. His money, his lands, which would include Locksley and the Gisborne lands, the property, if they have not been confiscated by the crown. Of course, in order for Seth to have a title, he should become a knight, for starters. He would be known as Seth FitzGisborne, of course. But otherwise, the money to educate him, train him is... is..." he looked up at the Abbess. "Where is the money?"

"We have it. Or a good portion of it. There is a goodly sum. In all truth, I have never seen so much money accumulated in one spot. Annie, Sir Guy also left a stipend for you."

"A... stipend?"

"A yearly allowance. It is a rather generous sum and there is more than enough money to educate your son and more than likely his children and grandchildren as well, if you are frugal and do not choose to spend it in other ways." Seeing the confusion in the woman's eyes and seeing the truth in them, the nun lowered her voice and whispered, "We have his body."

It took Annie a few moments to register that. "His body?" Suddenly she looked up. "Might I see his grave? Please? I would like... this is strange but I would like to see it, speak to him."

Closure.The other three in the room realized that what the young woman needed was closure. "There is no grave. He is down in the crypt. Many find it a gloomy place."

"I don't care." She looked down at her hands. "I would like... I need to speak to him."

~~~...~~~

"Are you sure you are all right, child?"

"Yes."

There was a breeze from somewhere, causing the torches to flick and dance. Friar Tuck put one in the casing next to the catacomb where a plain, stone sarcophagus lay. There was no name, no dates, nothing to denote who lay within the crypt, save the yellow and black banner stretched across the top.

"The mason is working a new lid, one with his name and his death date," the Abbess whispered. "Does anyone know his date of birth?"

"He told me once, early on, he was thirty and two. That would be two or three years ago." Annie's voice was breathy, her eyes riveted to the stone in front of her.

"So, perhaps 1163?" Tuck was quick to calculate.

"I will inform the mason." The Abbess took gentle hold on Annie's arm. "I will stay-"

"No. Please." Annie looked down, not over her shoulder. "I would like a few minutes with him alone. Please." Now her eyes rose, looking for the friar. "You are sure it is he? Positive?"

Interesting that after all this time, she would openly grasp for anything to tell her the man still lived. "I am sorry," Tuck whispered. "It is definitely Sir Guy who lies in this grave." Annie nodded and returned to her inspection of the mortar surrounding the small, recessed mausoleum.

The Friar and Abbess waited a few seconds before the nun spoke up. "We will leave torches so you can find your way back. There is a draft, but we know not where it comes from, therefore if you have not returned in a quarter of an hour, we will come searching for you."

"I won't be long."

"Do not wander. 'Tis easy to get lost."

"I won't."

Annie waited, listened for the footfalls to die away before turning again to sepulcher. She reached out, as if to touch the very stone.

"Guy?" She inhaled, to quell her shaking breath. Finally, she laid both palms flat on the cold stone. "Are you really in there or have you played yet another trick on us and snuck off to parts unknown?" She dropped her hand. "I truly wish you have tiptoed to France or the Holy Roman Empire or even north or over to the Island of the Celts. Of all the times I wished you dead, now you are and I realize I didn't mean it."

A wind blew through the tunnel, a hint of a whisper unheard on the current. Again, placing both hands on the stone in front of her, Annie leaned forward, as if to whisper in the cracks.

"I loved you," she murmured. "Loved you so much and I asked for nothing! Nothing, save your warmth and affection. I didn't ask for better quarters, clothing, jewels, shiny baubles. I didn't ask to become your wife, your mistress, because of our class differences. I didn't ask for special treatment. I accepted it when you ignored me in the hall! I asked for nothing for our son. You offered it!" Her voice rose and she paid no attention to the sputtering flame in the surrounding torches, flames that blew in different directions, an unseen vortex entering the catacomb. Annie didn't see it, couldn't see it because her eyes were full of tears.

"You terrified me! Using our baby as bait? Where was your brain? You could have said something, anything, but you let me... believe... you bastard!" She began to wind down. "You let me believe..."

SSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssssssssooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyy...

Her head jerked up, not believing she heard anything. It had to be a trick of the wind! Swallowing hard, her hands still pressed against the stone, she addressed the man within the grave again. "You should see him, Guy," she sniffed. "He looks just like you. He is tall, with lots of black curls, just like yours. And eyes like the sky. Lady Glasson calls him her little tyrant. He stalks around like... oh Guy, you should see him! He is all you, there is none of me in him." She set her shoulders, resolved to finish her tirade.

"So I loved you and I hated you and I ran with our baby and hated you some more because you lied to me and now I discover you didn't lie to me after all and maybe you did the best you could despite it all and protected us in your own weird fashion." She inhaled. "They say you left Seth a fortune, that you left me a pension beyond all pensions."

AAAAAAAAANnnnnnnnnnnniiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee... Llllloooooooooooook aat meeeee...

Her head jerked up, searching...

Off, down the corridor in the shadows, the dust stirred, took form, took shape, of a tall, dark man, moving towards her. Annie gasped once, standing up and turned to run, only to fall. She scooted back against the wall, her hand over her mouth as if to muffle her scream, her feet scraping against the rough stone of the floor.

The paleness of the ghost did not take away from his features. Guy's hair was longer than she remembered, but still lay in glorious curls, his face fuller than she recalled. Rather than the leather vest, he wore a padded jerkin with mail underneath. He cocked his head to the side, smirking once and then sank to his heels.

Sssssssssseeeetttttthh isssssssss wwwwwwwellllllllll?

His voice echoed eerily through the tunnel, the words on the breeze, his mouth, never moving. Annie nodded, unable to speak.

The knight's mouth worked; obviously, it was difficult to communicate in his current state.

Llllllllllliiiiiiiiiiiike meeeeeee?

Somewhere, she found her voice. "Just like you."

The ghost smiled, obvious pride on his features. He looked heavenwards, rolled his eyes, as if hearing a voice she couldn't hear. After a moment, he lifted a finger and smiled.

Aaannnnie...uuussse thhheeee mmmmonnnneyyyy forrrrr Sssseeeethhhh. Plleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaasssssse. He shook his head sideways, becoming more firm, not as translucent, his speech clearer for a minute. Donnnn't thhhhrow iiit awaaaay. Marrrryyy yoouurrrrr ssmmmiiithhh...he leaned forward so close, had he been alive, she could have felt his breath on her cheek. Giiive hhiiimm daaughhterssss... He leaned back, smirking, a grin so rarely seen.

"But...but... Seth! How do I explain? All this money?" She sat up straight in horror. "How did you know about the blacksmith?"

The Ghost rose to his feet, towering over her. There was a time, so long ago, she relished sitting and watching him stand next to her, looking up at him. She swore then there was not a more beautiful creature in all of England than her lover.

Thhhheee trrrruthhh. Tellll hiiiimmm thheeeee trruthhh...

From somewhere, the wind pulled her to her feet. She realized that the fire in the torches were whipping about as if in a storm. Guy was standing before her. Ssssssethhhhhhhh isss aaaah Gissssssborrrrne. Ttttthhhheeeeeee laaaaaaasssssssssssssst Gissssborrrrne. Rrrrrrrrrrreeeeememmberrrrrrrrr thhhhhaaaaaaaaaat.

Annie wanted desperately to reach out, touch him, see if he was real, but before she could put action to the thought, he reached for her. Both hands looked to grasp her arms, the touch colder than snow or the ice in the stream when it froze. She closed her eyes to concentrate on forcing warmth to her limbs, when she felt a cold, cold breath on her brow. In that ghostly embrace, the words on the current were strangely clear, as if he had suddenly taken corporal form. I'mm ssorry. Donn't thhhhrow hiss birrthrright awway to spite mmmee. I neverrrr mmeannt fforr thisss to happennn. I'mm sssssorrrrr....

The wind suddenly died and when Annie opened her eyes, she saw the form walking away. As he... it... turned the corner, he turned and gave a smirking bow, before turning the curve and disappearing.

She broke into a run, grabbing the torch as she went past, but when she looked around the bend...

There was nothing but crypts, skeletons, dust.

"Annie?" Much's voice echoed down the other corridor and when he came to Sir Guy's crypt and didn't see her, he became alarmed? "Annie?"

"I'm here." She didn't move, just continued to stand, staring into the dark passageway.

"Annie?" The man was by her side in an instant. "What are you doing down here?" Gently, he took her by the elbow, using his own torch to peer down the darkened passageway, before leading her back to where Guy lay. As they reached the intersection, he placed both torches in holders. He grabbed her gently by the arms, rubbing quickly up and down. "You're cold! Almost frozen! Why did you stay so long?" He finally looked at her, saw the blue lips, trembling jaw, and chattering teeth. "You are freezing! You look as if you've seen a ghost!" In an instant, the man threw off his coat and put it around her shoulders. "Let's get you upstairs, in front of a fire. We'll see if the kitchen has something warm to eat."

With that, he led her out of the catacombs and back into the convent where Tuck and the Abbess waited.

"Child?" The Abbess was obviously concerned. "Sweet Jesu! Stir the fire!" Much ran to do her bidding, Tuck pulling a stool over beside it. "Go to the cook and bring up some of last night's stew. Make sure it is hot." She waited until the door shut, before pulling a second stool next to the young woman. Taking both of Annie's hands into her arthritic ones, the elderly nun began to rub. "You look as if you have seen a ghost."

Annie's teeth were still chattering. "I...I..."

"I have seen him twice," the Abbess whispered. "Twice in five days. The first time was when we received his body. The tomb was so cold and he watched us from the far end." Annie continued to stare into the fireplace, although her teeth weren't chattering so much now. "I saw him again two nights past. He was angry. He said you were at Lady Glasson's and I was to fetch you myself, if need be."

"He... he... could b-b-b-be very f-f-f-orceful," Annie admitted.

"His voice was like grating stone on stone."

"H...h...h...he... was li...ike... he...waasssssssss... before..." She swallowed and pulled closer to the fire. "He was kind."

Tuck returned with an earthen mug of the previous night's stew and handed it to her. Annie was vaguely aware of whispering between the friar and the nun while she stared into the fire, thinking of her conversation with the ghost and allowing the stew to warm her from the inside. As she came close to the bottom of the mug, she felt Tuck's large hands around her shoulders. "The kitchen is wrapping fresh bread and cheese for us, as well as a skin or two of wine. We will leave as soon as Much gets the cart. I will go help him, so you may speak to the Abbess about what you wish to do. Do you need me to stay?"

Annie shook her head. "I have decided." She was staring deep into her cup. "I would like to speak to the Abbess please." She waited until she heard the door shut. Looking over her shoulder, making sure they were alone, Annie began quietly. "Guy kept a promise to me. He left provision for my... for our son... to be educated. If what you say is written on that document, he acknowledged Seth as his."

"He has and as it is sealed with his ring, no one will deny it."

"I was going to leave it. Donate it," Annie admitted nervously, "but Guy reminded me of something. Seth is the last Gisborne. Guy left him everything so Seth... I want him educated, Mother, but I don't know how to go about it." She shrugged. "I suppose I could start with Lady Glasson."

"She will help you. If she cannot, send a message to me and I will help you. I suspect Friar Tuck will take an interest in your son." The woman stood, groaning with her bones. "There are a few things I should show you." She followed the nun to her desk. From a box, the woman withdrew a velvet pouch. It was heavy and coins rattled inside. As she pulled open the drawstring, the nun poured out coins; gold, silver and copper, all stamped with the insignia of the King. Crowns. "This is your yearly stipend, should you choose to take it.

"Yearly?" Annie had never seen so much money.

A ring and necklace fell out. Annie reached out, picking up the ring. It was large, a man's signet, a wolf's head carved in the center.

Guy's signet. She remembered it, had toyed with it many nights, cuddled up to the man.

"We took that from his body when we received it, as well as the crucifix." The old woman nodded to the necklace on the table, sitting among the coins. "Go ahead. Pick it up." Annie grasped the silver cross, only to drop it with a hiss.

"'Tis hot! It bites!"

"Aye." The Abbess nodded. "I had the same reaction. I almost buried him with it rather than take it off," she admitted, "but it is obviously a cherished family heirloom." She watched as Annie gingerly held it by the clasp with her fingernails, watching it spin erratically in the sun.

"I never saw him with it. I don't remember it." Annie laid it back down on the table among the coins. "I should leave it here for now."

"There are other things, jewelry, some plate, goblets," the nun offered, but Annie was shaking her head.

"If I come home, laden with gold and knight's spoils, word will get out who Seth is so no, I'll keep him safe as long as I can." She gestured to the things on the desk. "Please put that back. If I am in need of any of it, I will come." Her face hardened. "But I will do my best to educate my son." There was a knock at the door, Much retrieving the young woman. Annie nodded to the man, before kissing the Abbess' ring and taking her leave.

The trip back was quiet, Annie mulling over the events in her mind, her 'talk' with Guy. People would think she were mad, so she chose to keep that visit to herself. Lady Glasson knew Annie's mind when she arrived, knew she had accepted whatever it was Seth's father offered.

~~~...~~~

Annie married the blacksmith, joyed in his attention and gentleness and, strangely enough, over the years, presented him with daughters, five beautiful, healthy daughters that he doted on. He doted on Seth as well, never making a difference between his flesh and the child his wife brought to the marriage. Annie told him the truth of Seth's parentage when the man asked her to be his wife, expecting him to set her aside and crow about her weakness to the world, but he didn't blame her and he judged her not. Never, not once in their many years together, did he ever throw her sin in her face or harry her for her mistake.

Seth grudgingly learned to read and cypher, many thinking the money to educate the boy coming from the extra sewing Annie took in or that her blacksmith paid for it. Annie laughed behind her hand; had they known how much that precious education cost and that the little bit she took, in addition to the single silver piece each that she took from her stipend, which she actually laid aside for dowries for her daughters.

Once a year, she went to Ripley's, to confirm what was written, to take the money to pay for Seth's education, or what little extra she needed. She always took far less than what Guy set aside for her. Each year, she took yellow roses, grown in her garden, and placed them on his coffin. She kept him abreast of what Seth was doing.

She saw Guy's ghost twice more before her death. She saw him after Seth married and saw him the last time the summer of her death.

Seth resembled his father greatly, from his great height, to his dark hair and eyes chiseled from the sky. He chose to say naught about his inheritance, chose not to pursue a knighthood. He refused to touch the money, still so much of it left and instead, chose to educate his son, Roland, in the same manner. He followed the only father he knew into the smithy and was known to be just as gentle as the man who raised him. He would accompany his mother on her yearly pilgrimage to the Abbey, and even after her death, continued to leave a yellow rose on his father's coffin.

Because his mother made him promise, made him promise to honor the man who gave him so much, even after his death.

A little over forty years after Sir Guy of Gisborne's death, a tall, lanky young man showed up at the Abbey's door.

The current Abbess gasped when she saw him. Once, she had been a young novice, the very one who opened the gate to a dark knight that she dreamed about often – dreams she refused to confess to, having been told to forget she ever saw the knight. Instead, she pleaded forgiveness from the Holy Mother every time she knelt on the old stone floor. Upon being made Abbess, she had been given scrolls, treaties to read, became knowledgeable to the secret that was hidden beneath the abbey.

She knew WHO lay in the catacombs, what was hidden there and now she knew why.

So to see him, alive and hale and so very young terrified her, although she schooled her features as the newly spurred knight towered over her.

"You have something of mine. I wish to examine it."

Quietly, he followed her into the catacombs, to the niche next to his grandfather, where the chests were stored. The previous abbess had the things kept in sacks and pouches moved to small caskets, money and the family jewelry kept there. She stepped aside as he first laid a single, yellow rose on the sarcophagus, dusting aside the dried stalks from the previous years, before moving to the treasury.

One by one, he opened each chest, inspecting the contents, rifling through the coins, before closing and latching them, setting and stacking them atop Guy of Gisborne's tomb. Finally, in one of the last chests, he found what he was looking for.

In the casket were a series of tubed canisters. He removed them and tucked them into his belt, behind his jerkin. He then held up the aging velvet bag with a grin, inspecting it in the light. The Abbess looked on in horror. One of the things written in the scroll was this bag, this pouch, and what was in it, was not holy. "Child. Perhaps-"

He loosened the drawstring, digging long, elegant fingers into the depths. "Sir Roland. My name is Sir Roland FitzGisborne. I will be more, when I prove my worth and regain what belonged to my grandfather. Ah!" He pulled out a ring, gleaming in the light, the etchings of a wolf's head on it. Without a second thought, Sir Roland slid it home on his index finger. He then reached into the little sack again, the clinking within audible. He pulled out a chain, held the object to the light and watched as the Abbess stood mesmerized as the ornament spun erratically, glints from the torches flashing on the walls.

She knew what this was. There was mention of it, mention of its... unnatural abilities... "Sir Roland, I would not touch-"

He reached out and grabbed it, squeezing it tightly with his fist. With an ancient smirk, he found the clasp and opened it, putting it around his neck and situated the delicate little crucifix around his neck. He held it up for a moment, to examine it closely, before tucking it into his jerkin and making sure it laid next to his skin.

He spent a few more minutes filling his purse, attached to his belt beneath his jacket, before replacing the chests neatly in the little alcove. Finally, he picked up the torch, handing it to the Abbess, before taking the other one, and motioning for her to lead the way. He took one last look at the alcove, touching the stone coffin before whispering,

"I am coming, Genevieve. I am coming."

tbc