Guy of Gisbourne could never earn the title, "Master of the Bow." His arrow, aimed at Robin of Locksley, struck King Richard's shoulder.
Surprised, angry, and yet glad, Guy took off running, knowing Locksley would quickly be after him, once he'd made sure the king was alright. But he wasn't, Guy gloated, with Isabella's poison seeping into his bloodstream. Within days, King Richard would be dead. Some unearthly power had directed Guy's arrow where he ought to have aimed it, saving him, if only he could outrun Hood.
That, Guy realized, would be impossible. Guy's longer legs would initially take him farther, but he hadn't Hood's stamina, he knew. Hood could run for miles without weakening, whereas he was already growing tired. The trees still hid him, but the grove would soon end and Guy would be exposed to sight in an open field. Hood's arrow would not miss its mark, as his had. Should he try to hide here? But then, Guy grew relieved. Whatever power had directed his arrow was with him still. Guy spotted a young male teen just ahead, gathering nuts with a young girl.
Reaching them, Guy threw his bow at the boy, then seized the girl and drew forth his sword, holding it at her throat. "Shut up!" he ordered her, placing one hand over her mouth to stop her terrified cries. "Say you did it," he ordered the boy, "but speak nothing of me, or she dies."
"Let my sister go!" the boy cried.
Guy pressed his sword blade lightly into the child's neck, just enough to draw beads of blood, circling her throat like a necklace. "Do as I say!" he hissed.
"Say I did what? What am I supposed to have done?" the boy asked, almost in tears.
Still holding her from behind, Guy lifted the child off her feet to prevent leaving tale tell drag marks in the fallen leaves, then hid with her behind some thick underbrush. He tried to quiet his breathing as he watched Hood arrive, but he couldn't quiet his heart's pounding fear beats.
He saw Robin stop, a look of surprise on his face when he saw the boy. The youth was crying, and the bow lay at his feet.
"What have you done?" Robin demanded, leaving the boy speechless.
The boy's youth as well as his tears quieted Robin's anger. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, gently. "Tell me your name."
"Pierre," the teen gulped.
"Pierre," Robin repeated. "I am Robin of Locksley. Why did you shoot the king?"
"The king? King Philip?" The youth was clearly surprised.
"No," Robin answered, knowing something was off. Gisbourne watched in terror as Robin scanned the woods before continuing. "King Richard of England. It's alright! You didn't kill him."
Pierre broke down crying, then said, "The Lionheart? I did it. I maybe didn't mean to, but I shot him. He's my duke...the Duke of Normandy. My brother died in the Holy Land fighting alongside him. You're sure he'll be alright?"
"If you'll come with me, you can see for yourself. What was your brother called? Perhaps I knew him."
"Denis, of Caen, but you didn't. He arrived in the Holy Land after you left. You're famous, so I know. But won't your king arrest me?"
"That depends. Who were you trying to shoot at?" Robin asked.
The boy, calmed by Robin's kind manner, quickly answered, "A squirrel, in the woods here. I didn't mean to shoot your king!"
"Go in peace," Robin said. "But the next time you aim your arrow hunting, look around first, to make sure no one gets hurt."
Pierre, still worried for his sister, only wanted Robin to go so Marie would be released. Robin wished for the boy to go, for he suspected he was lying and someone else might be guilty of shooting the king. Neither moved, and they were soon joined by a small squadron of King Richard's soldiers.
"This is who shot the king?" the surprised sergeant asked.
"It was an accident," Robin explained.
The sergeant was not so forgiving. "All the same, Lord Locksley," he insisted, "we need to make sure. He could be a spy." Addressing his men, he ordered them to, " Take him to the king."
Pierre grew frightened again. "You'll come with me?" he begged Robin.
Robin did not want to leave the woods until he made certain there was no other shooter hiding nearby. But Pierre clung to his arm with such fear in his eyes, Robin could not refuse him. "Of course," he agreed. "Don't worry. King Richard is merciful, and just. Tell him your story, and he'll let you go. Trust me."
Away from the violent man who held his sister, Pierre wondered whether he should tell King Richard what had truly happened. But he was afraid the dangerous man would somehow know, and kill his sister. For little Marie's sake, he would stick to his original story.
With Locksley and the boy gone, Gisbourne wondered what to do with the sniveling brat he held. He did not relish murdering children, but he'd do it if necessary. Every time he'd shown mercy toward children in the past, things had gone wrong for him. He remembered those boys who had witnessed his experiments with that Damascus steel armor...he ought to have killed them instead of taking them prisoners to work in the mine. Hood had rescued them, along with Marian's lying deceiving help! And his son! Annie's bastard child...what had she named him? Seth...he couldn't bring himself at the time to slit his throat, so he had left him in the forest to die, only to be rescued by Hood! And Hood's own brats...the one he had taken in Sherwood and kept in a box, and the baby he'd only recently ignored in the convent apple orchard...if he'd killed them, would it have weakened Hood? It would have made him suffer, and Marian, too.
He ought to kill this child now, but he continued to hesitate. In his mind, he could almost hear Sheriff Vasey's voice from beyond the grave mocking him.
"What's the matter, Gisbourne, hmm? Afraid to kill, because your hostage is a child? What you call mercy, I call weakness. But suit yourself, Gisbourne. Let her go, to tell the king what really happened. See how long it will take before Robin Hood tracks you down and captures you!"
With an anguished cry, Gisbourne slit the child's throat then tossed her dying body aside. No longer hesitating, he ran as fast as he could away.
"I did it," he reminded himself, wanting to forget what he'd just done. "I killed the king! Everything I've always wanted...everything that should have been mine, will belong to me! I will have power, position, and wealth beyond imagining, as long as Hood doesn't find me!"
Guy knew he mustn't return to the convent, even though Marian would surely be there. He would wait for her instead, now that he knew she would surely be his once he asked Prince John...make that King John...for Hood's head. He pictured it on a spike, then remembered Prince John wanted to mount it and hang it in his trophy room. His mind's image was horrible to Guy, not because Hood appeared dead, but because, even dead and mounted, his face laughed cockily and smugly down at him.
...
Marian lay feeling weak and ill on her bed, her lips colorless, but with her contractions ended. She had not lost the baby, but she knew the danger was not completely over yet.
A kind sister sat patiently by her bedside, tending her while praying for the well being of her child.
The door opened and another sister entered, carrying a tray containing a cup of milk.
"No," Marian said, recognizing Isabella. She grasped the hand of the nun seated beside her. "Please, do not leave me alone with her. She poisoned me, and tried to make me lose my baby."
"I didn't poison you," Isabella smirked, speaking in English so the French speaking nun would not understand. "You poisoned yourself...unknowingly of course, by peeling your apple with that paring knife I conveniently left with the apples. I remember Guy telling me you prefer to eat your apples without their peel, hoping to find a 'G' in the peeling. Or were you looking for an 'R'? Such a difficult letter to carve! An 'L' for Locksley would have been simpler, and could have served for either of your lovers!"
"Guy was never..." Marian felt too weak to argue. Never her lover, and never truly Lord of Locksley, but she was too weak to say it. She felt near tears, learning the knife she had used to protect herself from poison had been the very thing that had poisoned her. "Will my baby live?" she asked.
Isabella placed the tray on a table. "We all die someday," she smirked.
"You are cruel," Marian told her.
"Ouch." Isabella's smirk turned icy cold and filled with hatred. "You'll have your baby," she spat out. "You and Robin can live your idyllic happy life together. Enjoy it while you can. Who knows how long it will last?"
Marian lay back, relieved. She only wanted to sleep now, and regain her strength.
Isabella watched her, wondering whether Guy had succeeded in shooting the king. She also wondered how long Marian would be able to carry the infant her poison had damaged. A few months more perhaps, but without a doubt, it would be born early, unable to survive outside its mother's womb.