While Sir Guy of Gisburne was looking at the hustle and bustle in the bailey, it suddenly crossed his mind whether there might be some truth in Loxley's statement that he had no luck at all. Not the outlaw - although his luck had run out in the end - but the knight. And then he had to pull himself together not to grimace in disgust, for in fact he always tried to avoid giving any thought to the dead outlaw. Unfortunately, this was something he only managed to do in tranquil times, and this day was certainly not one of them. Therefore, it was actually no wonder that he had to start thinking about Loxley once again. And he also had to reckon with dreaming about the man as well. He did not like that at all, but there was nothing he could do about it. He should know, for he had tried it often enough, even when it was already obvious to him that he had no chance.
Instead of letting Loxley and the dreams - which haunted him at times when he had no idea where he was headed - keep dominating his thoughts, he looked back at the scene in front of him and enjoyed what would probably be his last moments of peace for the next few days. Any moment now, the cause for all the commotion would ride through the gates and then everyone here would behave as if there had been an outbreak of collective madness. Everyone would as well assume that he was no exception, and if he was honest, he probably would not be able to escape it. After all, he had never been able to do that in the past. And certainly not when the sheriff had once again saddled him with all the responsibility in Nottingham and over the county, as if he had known in advance that the king was coming. Perhaps that was even true.
But at least this gave Gisburne the advantage of not having to join the fray. Moreover, he did not have to endure being called an idiot by de Rainault in his unpleasant voice. This was a reason for him to be delighted, since it meant that only the king's shrill voice would give him a headache. Moreover, he could also take comfort in the fact that John was calling everyone around him names. And - he could not suppress a snort at this thought - it should also be a comfort to him that only a head still connected to his body could ache. He was determined not to do anything that would affect this state of affairs. Still, he had no choice but to hope that the king had got no ideas of his own. And that Loxley had not been right at that time, and that he would not be right now - if he were indeed still alive.
As soon as the king on his horse showed himself in the passage of the gates, the knight did what was the only demand placed on him at that moment. He went down on one knee and bowed his head. After all, John Lackland was the sovereign over this realm - to mention that he had already lost quite a bit of his domain would probably not be a very good idea - even if he had no respect for the man beneath the crown. But he also should keep that to himself as best he could.
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After only a single night that the king had spent in Nottingham, Gisburne wished that the sheriff had not chosen this of all times for going on pilgrimage. Anyway ... how had the man come up with such an idea? The knight had seldom known a man who had less affinity with faith - in the sense of the Church - than Robert de Rainault, regardless of the fact that his younger brother was an abbot. By which Gisburne did not mean to imply that Hugo possessed more faith than the sheriff. However, it was not for the knight to judge. Moreover, it was of no use to him.
Nevertheless, he racked his brains as to why de Rainault had come up with the idea of embarking on a pilgrimage? And to leave just before the king's arrival in Nottingham, of all times. From whom did he obtain his information? Or was it all just a coincidence? The knight could not really believe in that. Things had looked different when he had been younger, but ever since Herne's son had entered his life, and with him the realization that there really was such a thing as magic - even if the church told something different - he always suspected a scheme behind seeming coincidences. If it turned out that he had been mistaken, he was then relieved. Nonetheless, the next time he would react in exactly the same manner.
It was the king, of course, who had ensured that Gisburne harbored the wish, quite unusual for him, for the sheriff to be in Nottingham. After the arrival of the sovereign on the previous day, the knight had discovered to his chagrin that John was behaving even more unpredictably and even more ill-tempered than Sir Guy had already been expecting. Needless to say, he had attempted to prepare himself for the sovereign beforehand, so that he would not be caught off guard by his conduct, but he could never have imagined such a level of madness.
Only to realize this morning that there was a person who disgusted him even more than the king. And that person in question happened to be Lord Edgar. Edgar of Huntingdon, who was the younger brother of the Earl of Huntingdon and thus an uncle of the outlaw Robin Hood, that man that made the knight's life so insufferable. And although the latter had known Lord Edgar for only a few hours, it had not escaped his notice that he bore almost no resemblance to his brother. Nor, however, to his nephew. Not that Gisburne would wish for that, but he was wondering about it, for the earl, who had never publicly supported his son - his disowned and disinherited son - nevertheless possessed a sufficient degree of resemblance to his former heir that no one could fail to notice the kinship of the two men. By contrast, no one would ever guess that David and Edgar of Huntingdon belonged to the same family, let alone were brothers. They were even less alike than Robert and Hugo de Rainault. And they were also less alike than Edmund of Gisburne and Guy. Which should mean quite something, since the knight was in fact not related to the man from whom he got his name.
But there was another reason than his dubious character for Gisburne to loathe that man. While all the other people who had to be here in Nottingham Castle at the time were doing everything they could to improve the king's mood - or at least not to worsen it any further - Lord Edgar seemed to be intent on reinforcing the sovereign's attitude as well. This would make him even more disagreeable in the eyes of the knight, if that would be possible.
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"Giiisburne!" the king's shrill voice blared across the Great Hall, reaching the knight while he was still on the stairs. He sighed softly. He had set out to inspect the guards to escape this man for a time, but unfortunately he had found no way to delay his return any longer.
"Giiisburne!" The king had had to get out of bed several hours ago as he was in pain and his mood had worsened accordingly. Sir Guy sighed again and moved faster.
"My Liege," he pronounced next, pretending to be out of breath as he paid the insufferable man the homage due him due to his title, not his person.
"How is it that I have to find out that you people here in Nottingham are allowing witches to cast their curses unchallenged, Gisburne?"
"My Liege?" The knight did not have to feign his confusion; in fact, he had no idea what the king was talking about. But he did not miss the way Lord Edgar, standing a little way behind the monarch, grinned as if he enjoyed the manner in which Gisburne was being treated. In all likelihood, he did, though. Was it him behind this question, by any chance? The knight was suddenly sure that this was indeed the case, but that did not make any difference to his own situation.
"A witch!" screeched John. "A witch who cast a curse on me. A witch who has put these pains on me."
Gisburne had no idea what to say in response, but the king was in such a frenzy that there was no need to do so.
"Fortunately, at least Lord Edgar has recognized that!" John gasped, obviously from having forgotten to breathe. Therefore, it took him a moment before he was able to continue speaking, however, it had also led him to at least calm down a bit.
"If Lord Edgar only knew where to look for that witch, he could eliminate the evil much more quickly," John managed to utter at last, while staring contemptuously at Gisburne. The latter still did not know what to say, but this time it was Lord Edgar who came to his rescue, most likely accidentally.
"I have already sent out my men, my Liege. Therefore, I am confident that it will not take me long to find this witch. This is not something Sir Guy knows his way around," the earl's brother purred in a soft voice, but there was contempt for the deputy sheriff in his eyes. However, the knight had not assumed the other one had spoken out to provide the king with an excuse for him, either. This man was most definitely a viper, and Gisburne was wondering what his target might be. Or should he better ask who he was targeting? Luckily, it could not be himself, for taking him out of the way would not benefit Lord Edgar.
"Then what are you still standing around here for?" The king had raised his voice once more, but the man who had planted the idea of the witch in his mind only bowed, and had already moved a little distance away from his sovereign, when it apparently occurred to him that he had still one more thing to add.
"I have chosen my men wisely, so I have no need of any of yours, Sir Guy." After getting rid of this barb, he made haste to leave the hall.
"What have you to say to this then, Gisburne?" the king turned his full attention now to the knight.
"We haven't had any problems with witches lately," the latter began warily. "Abbot Hugo always keeps an eye out for suspicious individuals, but the last witch to attract his attention was one from Belleme's, and the baron left the county some time ago. His castle sits abandoned."
Before the king had time to react to these words, it occurred to Gisburne that this would probably not be sufficient for his monarch. "But, my Liege, there is also no one residing around here who is as important as you are." He did not want to say any more, yet he was hoping John would draw the right conclusion from these words. The right one, of course, from the knight's point of view.
But hinting at the importance of his own person actually worked like a miracle. The king calmed down immediately, and the knight found himself no longer the focus of his fixed gaze either. Instead, John straightened up to his full height - and Gisburne considered himself lucky to be standing two steps beneath him, for he could not imagine that his sovereign would like to be dwarfed by him - stroked his beard and suddenly gave a fairly pleased impression. The knight had not yet seen him like that since his arrival.
"Obviously, there is no one as important in this place as I am, Gisburne. In the entire country, there is no one as important as I am," he then stated as he looked down at the knight. "Don't loiter here, Gisburne, make yourself useful!" That could have come from the sheriff, and the knight suddenly had to try hard not to grin. Luckily, he quickly regained his composure, bowed, and then backed away, though simply for the reason that one did not turn one's back on a man like the king. To do so would be tantamount to inviting him to be stabbed in the back, and Gisburne had no intention of allowing himself that exposure. He was not going to give this man the opportunity to trifle with his life. This king was not worth dying for. Laying down his life for one of his brothers had been of just as little worth. It was only that there was not always a choice, as Gisburne had experienced firsthand.
Although Sir Guy was not given an opportunity to venture out of the castle on that day, he was indeed to have some rest until the afternoon. Since he was staying here, he witnessed Lord Edgar's return and noticed immediately that he had not brought any captive with him. Instead, his men hauled all kinds of stuff and even - to Gisburne's surprise - a living pig.
The knight hastened to the Great Hall as well, not wanting to give the impression that the king's condition was of no interest to him. This would not be true either, for anyone who had to do with John should be interested in his activities - if only out of self-preservation instinct. However, Gisburne had to realize at that point that he would not have had to go to that trouble, for when he entered the spacious room, there was still nothing to be seen of the king. Lord Edgar and his men were waiting at the other end of the hall - right where the throne stood on a raised platform - and they even brought the pig with them. One of the men was holding it in his arms - almost as if it were a child - and it was constantly trying to escape from this hold. Probably it wanted to be put on the floor. But since it was not very big, almost still a piglet, it lacked the necessary strength and, moreover, the man who had to take care of the animal not only made a powerful impression, but also a stubborn one. He certainly did not intend to let go of the pig and thereby incur the wrath of his master.
"Sir Guy," the earl's brother greeted the knight with false politeness when the latter reached him.
"My Lord," Gisburne bowed his head. Even if he could not stand the man, he could not allow himself to be rude to him. Aside from not wanting to make an enemy of this man - he did not give the impression of letting enemies live - he also had to keep in mind that the Earl of Huntingdon had great influence, even after his only son had turned to a life of lawlessness. The earl was quite capable of making a simple knight's life a living hell. Moreover, Lord Edgar seemed to be in the king's favor, at least at this point, and Gisburne had to consider this as well. The sheriff did keep accusing him of being too stupid to survive at court, but that was not true. De Rainault need not know everything, however.
Apart from the grunting of the pig and the muttering of the servants in the rear, nothing could be heard while the men waited for the king. The knight was not interested in a conversation with the noble either and that was probably true the other way around as well. Nevertheless, this silence could in no way be called casual and that escaped none of the men.
At last, the king also deigned to make his appearance in the Great Hall. As he laid eyes on Lord Edgar, a smug grin spread across his face, but it did not stay there for long. As soon as he realized that the man had brought no captive with him, the expression on the sovereign's face turned sour.
"You disappoint me, Huntingdon!" he bellowed across half of the hall.
Lord Edgar bowed, but did not seem to be wary of the tantrum, while Gisburne retreated a bit more into the shadows. He certainly did not want to come between the king and his target, since with his lack of luck, he would surely get hit.
"I tracked down the witch, my Liege," the earl's brother went on undauntedly. "But, alas, her powers had probably shown her that I was coming. I have brought you her paraphernalia, however, and next time she will by no means be so strong." He smiled, which seemed almost as unnatural on his face as it looked on the king himself.
The latter stared at Lord Edgar as if he spoke a language unknown to him. But before he could comment on the man's words, the latter already carried on. "I have here her broom, her cauldron, and most importantly, her familiar." As he spoke, his men had stepped forward with the appropriate objects. The broom and the kettle struck Gisburne as ordinary utensils that could be found in any peasant's hut. Only the pig was not quite so ordinary, for it was black. But it was far from being the first black pig the knight had seen in his life. Nor did it seem to him like the familiar of a witch. Apart from the fact that the witches, with whom he had had to do so far, had always gotten along without a familiar.
"That's a pig!" shrieked the king. Perhaps he, too, had seen a black one before.
"Of course, it looks like a pig, my Liege," Lord Edgar replied, utterly calm. "But then, that's the secret of familiars. But what pig can be carried so easily in one's arms? By this you can tell its true nature, and by it the true nature of its mistress."
He spoke with such a conviction that the king apparently immediately forgot what he had just said. Now, he could probably well imagine that Lord Edgar was right after all.
The latter, however, had not yet concluded his task of providing the king with evidence that he was not wrong. The glove Lord Edgar wore in his belt had escaped Gisburne's notice, but the other man now plucked it out and held it up. "Behold this, my Liege. Your glove, which you have already missed. I discovered it in that witch's den. No doubt she used it to cast her curse on you. She is the very reason why you have to suffer these pains." With this, he had completely won the king over to his side.
No one could fail to realize that the king was now fully convinced of Lord Edgar's words. John obviously considered the glove the decisive proof that he had indeed been cursed by a witch, and saw in the earl's brother the one who had uncovered all of this. Edgar was undoubtedly a rising star in the king's court, and at that moment the knight assumed that this was precisely the man's goal. Moreover, he had now obviously gotten to where he wanted to be. The knight just hoped not to get further involved in this intrigue.
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For two days it remained quite peaceful - as far as one could speak of peace when the king was around - but then Lord Edgar set out a second time to seek the witch, and this time he met with success. But he brought back more than just the person he blamed for the king's woes, and that was to draw Gisburne into the whole affair as well. And much further than he could have possibly imagined. However, he did not know that at that very moment, when the earl's brother returned with his booty.
At first, the knight was only repulsed by the woman Edgar of Huntingdon had brought back with him. Or rather, whom his men had brought back with them, for the noble was careful not to get in her immediate proximity. Gisburne could very well understand that after just one look at her. He could not remember ever seeing a serf - much less one of the free yeomen - who was so filthy and reeked so foul. Her stench far surpassed that of an entire herd of hogs. Out of the corner of his eye, the knight saw the king recoil from her - and this was certainly not due to the fact that he considered her a dangerous witch - and hold a handkerchief in front of his nose.
"Well, well," the sovereign finally managed to bring forth and then gestured frantically in the direction of the old hag and - miraculously - the men immediately grasped what their monarch was trying to tell them. Without further ado, they removed the woman and everyone - Gisburne included - breathed a sigh of relief. However, his relief was not to last long, for Lord Edgar had another surprise in store for the king and the rest of those present.
The noble made sure that everyone was aware when he dropped a small leather pouch on the table. The pouch jingled as it hit the tabletop, as if it were full to the brim with coins. After the noble had loosened the knot, a few gold coins spilled out of the opening, and Gisburne immediately asked himself how the hell a woman like the one who had just been taken away could get her hands on gold coins. The next question he had to ask himself revolved around whether she could actually be a witch. Until just now, he had had his doubts. This had to do with the fact that he remembered that he had heard of her, even though he had never met her in person. And everyone who had spoken of her had considered her a harmless, if crazy, old and very filthy woman. But now Gisburne was no longer quite certain that she was, indeed, harmless. Should Lord Edgar perhaps be right after all? The knight felt an icy shiver run down his spine.
The king stared at the pouch as well, his beady, slightly protruding eyes charged with suspicion and vexation, but he was obviously incapable of producing the slightest sound.
Then Lord Edgar placed something else on the table. Gisburne could make out that it was a massive gold ring, as many nobles wore one, but he was not in a position to be able to recognize the emblem on it. The king had obviously a far better view on it, however, for he suddenly turned pale, then rather quickly started to turn red. A deep red. By the time he regained his voice, he was so infuriated that he spat spittle all over the room along with the words.
"Where did you get hold of this?" Even the sentries in front of the Great Hall would not be able to miss these words.
"With the witch," Lord Edgar replied in a low voice, giving the impression that he was ashamed to have brought these things before his monarch. However, shame was something Gisburne could not imagine in this particular man. In his opinion, this display of emotions was in no way genuine. Once again, an ice-cold shiver ran down his spine, even if he had no idea at that moment what had triggered this.
"I recognized it at once, of course, my Liege," Lord Edgar carried on, "though at first I did not want to believe it. But I cannot close my eyes to the evidence I have gleaned from the witch. And, alas, I can draw only one conclusion from it. My Liege, this is the person who has paid to have you cursed. So, this person definitely wants to cause you harm."
These words literally catapulted the king into such a violent fit of rage that he was once again unable to speak. Though he did not throw himself on the floor - Gisburne recalled that the king's father had been said to have gnawed at the carpets in his rage - spittle flew across the room as it shook the open-mouthed king without him seeming to have any control over it. Everyone present moved further away from him, even Lord Edgar, who had triggered this reaction and who - at least that was the knight's opinion - had also taken this into account when he made his revelations. But whose crest was on the ring? Who was it that was supposed to be a traitor according to Lord Edgar's account?
"I want to see him here! In chains!", the king finally brought forth, although the knight had not thought it possible that he was capable of producing any intelligible words in this state.
"GISBURNE! I want him here as fast as possible! Get him to here! Right away!"
The knight flinched. "My Liege..." he stammered. "Whom shall I get for you?" It irked him that he had to ask this question, but he still could not make out the crest on the ring.
John literally spat out the words. "The Earl of Huntingdon."
All of a sudden, Gisburne realized what Lord Edgar's real goal was. He not only wanted to ingratiate himself with the king, he also wanted to take his brother's place. And he, Sir Guy of Gisburne, had to help him do it in the process. He had no choice either, since the king had commanded him to do so.
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When the entire troublesome episode had come to an end, Sir Guy concluded that not only was Robin Hood favored by luck, but that this was also applicable to his father, David of Huntingdon. However, this was obviously not true of just about everyone in the family, for Lord Edgar was undeniably dead. His brother had called it an accident, and Gisburne was inclined to believe him. The earl was certainly a hard man, but not one the knight trusted to kill a brother. As he had noted at the outset of the whole affair, Lord Edgar and his older brother were not the least bit alike.
Needless to say, luck was not with the knight himself, although he certainly felt relief that he was still alive. Neither Robin Hood nor the king had succeeded in killing him. The former had vanished back into Sherwood faster than a Paternoster could be offered, and the latter had turned all his wrath on Lord Edgar and seemed to have thankfully forgotten that the knight had once again failed to get hold of the leader of the outlaws. And had also lost the rest of them, who had already been in custody. Gisburne did not consider that to be his fault - only in the case of Hood things were different - but the king would not be interested in his opinion. For him, it was always only his own that was of any importance.
Regrettably, this did not necessarily entail that the entire affair would not have repercussions for Gisburne. At the latest, when the sheriff returned and heard about the whole mess, de Rainault would not be able to hold back. The knight had a good idea of what he would spout, and it would not be flattering. But Sir Guy was already used to that from his master. He also knew he would live through it. The sheriff barked, but he didn't bite. Besides, he would have to do the dirty work himself if he got rid of his deputy, and he certainly did not want to have to do that. He could, however, make the knight's life a living hell if he put his mind to it. At such moments, Gisburne regularly wished that fate had granted him a little more luck. But it was quite possible that he was not the only one who had to do without so that Robin Hood could have more of it.
This notion was so absurd that it even brought a smirk on Gisburne's face.