Guy of Gisbourne was suffering horribly, certain he was being hunted like an animal.
"So, Hood," he thought, "for all your supposed kindness, you aren't so very different from Sheriff Vasey after all. Rather than merely take me to the king and have my miserable life swiftly ended, you go to him and tell him of my whereabouts, forcing me to flee my mother's village and hide in the forest, so you could increase my suffering. I, Sir Guy of Gisbourne, once Lord over Locksley, must now hide in the forest, jumping at every sound! And Marian accused me of being cruel, but it is you, Hood, who are truly the monster!"
Guy shed angry tears for himself, not knowing that Robin had honored their bargain and not told King Richard, but had only advised Gisbourne's Aunt Gisele to do so. Although a mere technicality, Robin's conscience was clear. How could he allow Gisbourne to roam free and likely try to kill the king again, without warning His Majesty of his enemy's presence? Not only that, but he thought it honorable to free Gisele from dependency on Gisbourne by having her earn the reward money for his capture. But Guy knew nothing of this. And he was too self absorbed to recognize the irony that his situation echoed what Robin had endured when having to live in Sherwood, hiding from the authorities who wanted him dead.
Unlike Robin or Marian, who knew how to make the best of any situation and survive living in the forest, Guy could only suffer. He had his sword and a bow and arrows, but they were useless to him without fire. He didn't know how many days it had been since he'd eaten anything other than apples, and his hunger gnawed at his stomach, causing him excruciating pain. He might have remembered the hunger the peasants in Locksley had faced under his "care," the children crying or the people who had died, Will Scarlet's mother Jane among them, but he did not. He could only feel sorry for himself and blame Robin Hood for his misery.
He had to eat something substantial, or he believed he would die! He couldn't risk breaking into homes or businesses to steal food, but there was one place he knew would be safe that would help him. The convent where he'd discovered Marian was nearby, and under cover of night, he would go there and ask the holy sisters to feed him.
He was dirty, unshaven and unkempt, his appearance frightening. Shaking, lest the king's soldiers find him, he rang the bell at the convent gates, then drew his sword when he saw a figure approach.
It was only a nun coming to answer the bell, so Guy resheathed his sword.
The sound of his own voice, having been silent for days, surprised him. "I seek shelter, holy Sister, and something to eat," he told her, hating to humble himself.
"All are welcome," she invited, opening the gates. "Come in and be fed."
Seated at a long table in the refractory, Guy tore apart a roasted chicken with his teeth, devouring it quickly. Having recently subsisted on nothing but apples, he sneered at the dish of baked apples placed before him, but finished it along with the chicken.
He froze then spun around when he heard a familiar voice behind him address him in English.
"Do you like it?" his sister Isabella asked. She stood within the doorframe, dressed in the holy garb of a nun. "The apples are flavored with honey and a spice the crusaders brought back from the east...something they call cinnamon. A very useful flavoring...tasty enough to mask any drug or poison."
Guy rose threateningly to his feet and drew out his sword.
"Put it away, Guy," Isabella sneered. "I wasn't the one who prepared your midnight supper. I didn't even know it was you who had come begging for a crust of bread. You might have tidied yourself up a bit first. This new unkempt look you're sporting doesn't suit you, you know."
"No more than the habit of a nun suits you. What are you doing here, Isabella?" Guy sneered back.
"What are you?"
"I asked you first."
"Very well then, since you ask. I forgot you never saw me dressed like this before. It's a very useful disguise, I've found. But to answer your question...What am I doing here? Praying my rosary beads, learning to press cider, make soap, oh! and cheese as well. There's also the endless chore of doing charitable works, which is so satisfying, especially when you find something about to be sold to provide for the poor, that truly belongs to you!"
She reached deeply into a hidden pocket in her habit and drew something forth, then opened her hand to reveal their mother's brooch that Guy had recently given to Marian, its topaz and onyx stones the unmistakeable Gisbourne colors. "Imagine my surprise when I found this!" Isabella cried. "I hadn't seen it in years."
"She didn't keep it," Gisbourne whispered, suffering anew at Marian's rejection.
Isabella assumed Guy was referring to their mother, knowing nothing about his recent capture of Marian. "You sold off everything we had, including me, your own sister! Why blame our mother then for selling off her jewels? Anyway, her brooch is mine now, along with anything else I can gather that these nuns would throw away on the poor. I'm gathering quite a pretty little nest egg for the future, Guy, which is more than you're doing."
"You're amassing wealth? From contributions meant as charity?"
She laughed mockingly at him. "You're not going to tattle on me, are you? Don't tell me you've developed a conscience! But then, you were always a coward when it came to the Church. Still afraid of hell fire, Guy?"
"Shut up."
"I thought you wanted me to tell you why I'm here. The truth is, I fled England, same as you. Prince John is no longer in power back home...his mother is. And since she and I do not see eye to eye, I decided things would be safer for me here in France. I meant at first to go to our mother's village, but decided I would be much more comfortable here in the convent."
"So you're hiding out here, until things look better for us in England."
"Until I make things better," she corrected. "For me, anyway. But since you're here, you can help me, if you want to."
"Help you?" Guy roared furiously.
"If you don't want to..." Isabella repeated her mocking laughter. "Have it your way, Guy. I anticipate no difficulty persuading some other man to help me kill the king. I'm quite persuasive when it comes to men, don't forget. But I warn you, don't come crawling to me when Prince John is crowned king and is handing out titles! I will not hesitate to tell him how I offered you first chance at my plot, and you refused."
Guy stared at his sister, the first rays of hope dawning again upon him. "You have a plan?" he asked.
"You are so stupid! Of course I have a plan. But it calls for a man to help me execute it. Are you willing to help me now, Brother?"
"Of course I am! Tell me, Isabella, what have you devised?"
"How good a shot are you, Guy, with a bow? You're no Robin Hood, of course, but then, who is?" She sighed hotly, with longing. "You can hit the large target of King Richard, can't you, when his back is to you? It won't matter what part of his body you hit. My poison on your arrow point will do the dirty work, and all we'll need to do is wait for it to take effect."
"Count me in," Guy insisted.