The knight did not feel very well when he left his chamber the following morning. His eyes were red rimmed, for he had been crying for a long time. In the process, he had then fallen asleep on the floor in front of his bed, so it was not surprising that his whole body was now aching. Moreover, as he made his way down to the Great Hall, he was understandably not in a very good mood, although his appearance helped him to continue with what he had started last night. The Sheriff had only to take one look at him to be immediately convinced that his steward had indeed drunk copiously the day before.
"What are your plans for the day?" inquired de Rainault with false friendliness in his voice. But then he already drove on, without waiting to see if the knight wanted to give him an answer. "You don't look particularly well this morning. You are not ill, are you? In that case, I'd rather you didn't come too close."
"I'm fine," Gisburne replied to him in a raspy voice as he poured himself a cup of wine, which he promptly emptied. "I'm about to set out to visit some villages." He acted as if he could not remember claiming last night that this was what he had been dealing with the previous day. He simply turned around and left the hall without waiting to see if the Sheriff had anything to say about this. Nor did he respond to de Rainault yelling after him. Instead, he hurried to the stables, where he told the stable hands to hurry up and saddle his stallion. And before the Sheriff could dispatch someone to bring him back to the hall, the knight had already left the castle. He was aware, however, that he would not be so lucky again the next morning.
When he then came back to the castle in the evening, he once again reeked of ale, just as he had done the day before. This time the Sheriff was unable to restrain himself and so he was busy yelling at his steward for quite some time. In the end, he even threw a full goblet of wine at him. But since the knight did not give the impression that this outburst of temper had actually affected him, the Sheriff finally threw him out of the hall, thus denying him the opportunity to take part in the night's meal. All the while, Fitz Edgar had remained silently in the back, but had not quite managed not to grin in between. It was probably his good fortune that de Rainault had not noticed any of this, as he was fully focused on his steward, even as the latter was already striding unsteadily towards the exit, seemingly struggling to keep himself upright and not swaying too much. Of course, he was careful not to let the Sheriff notice what efforts he was making to avoid smirking.
Gisburne did not mind being excluded from the evening meal. After all, he had known the Sheriff and therefore had anticipated such a situation, which had then led him to have something to eat before his return. He was now only too willing to retire to his chamber, in time to prevent the Sheriff from calling him back after all. While he staggered through the corridors - after all, he did not want one of the servants to report when asked that Gisburne had seemed sober - he wondered whether the Sheriff had wanted to visit his prisoner on that day. If he had, he would have discovered that he was missing. In any case, this would explain why he had started yelling the moment the knight had walked into the Great Hall. But that was just fine with Gisburne. The sooner he could get the Sheriff to dismiss him from his service, the better it would be in his opinion. In the last few days he had finally been able to admit to himself that he had not felt comfortable in the castle for quite some time. He had only avoided contemplating this before, since he could not have changed anything about his situation anyway.
After he had entered his chamber - and immediately put the latch on - he busied himself first with the same activities as he had done the previous night, or as he had done on any other evening when he had spent the day away from the castle and performed his duties as a steward. There were certain routines in the life of a soldier that did not change under any circumstances. Except when everything had gone down the drain. But while he was cleaning his mail shirt, he could not avoid reflecting anew on what had transpired the night before. He asked himself the question whether he had dreamed everything or not. On the one hand, he was well aware that he could have bitten himself, but on the other hand, he realized that he wished it had not been a dream. In addition, he also wished that Loxley would visit him again during that night. Could this be an indication that he was going mad? If so, he would be of no help to the Earl. It would not surprise him personally if something like this were to happen to him; after all, he had never had much luck in his life so far. But he would be very sorry, especially on account of Huntingdon.
When he finally got to lie down in bed, he vowed not to be startled this time should he again be awakened in the middle of the night by Loxley. He found this resolution somehow reassuring and that helped him to fall asleep quickly. When he woke up the next morning and realized that he had not been disturbed during the night, it made him feel rather sad. This was mainly due to the disappointment that he now had to assume that he had only dreamed about the visit the night before.
After he finally made his way into the Great Hall, he noticed immediately that the Sheriff's mood had deteriorated even further. De Rainault had obviously decided not to let him leave the castle on this day. However, Gisburne had already expected this decision, for the Sheriff's outburst last night had prepared him for this. For that reason, he sat down at the table, quite unconcerned, to devote himself to the food that the servants had brought on the table. He took his time, partly due to the fact that he was actually hungry, and partly because he had not been able to miss the fact that he was upsetting the Sheriff.
"Don't you think you've stuffed enough food into yourself, Gisburne?" consequently, the Sheriff wanted to know from him after some time.
The knight gazed at him uncomprehendingly. "My Lord?"
"You've been acting even more idiotic these past few days than you usually tend to!"
"My Lord!" the knight was indignant. "I will not be insulted by you either."
These words made de Rainault leap up in anger and he was so incensed that he threw a wine goblet at his steward. The latter managed to dodge the vessel, but not the contents. "If that's what I want," screeched the Sheriff, "I'll insult you without you being able to do anything about it. And as often as I please."
Gisburne snatched up his own goblet and topped it off with wine. While he had no intention of getting drunk that morning, he had no choice but to respond to de Rainault's outburst. Otherwise, he might have to worry about alerting the other man that something was amiss. Therefore, the knight downed the contents of the goblet to fill it right back up and then empty it without even bothering to pause.
"Don't you dare get drunk, Gisburne!" the Sheriff raged.
Gisburne slowly turned to the Sheriff and fixed his stare on him. When he was sure that the elder really did not let him out of his sight, he grabbed the jug of wine and refilled his goblet. All the while, he kept glancing at the Sheriff, and so it did not escape his notice that he was turning a deep red, which was almost certainly due to the fact that he was almost bursting with rage.
"If you empty this cup, you will have served me as my steward for the longest time, Gisburne. I warn you, I will remove you from my service forthwith and cast you out of the castle as well." De Rainault's voice cracked.
"You can't, my Lord. You need me. You have needed me all these years. You will not kick me out." Could he really succeed in baiting the man in this manner, or would it perhaps have the opposite effect? He had no way of knowing, but he was aware that he had to take this risk. For this reason, he downed the contents of the wine goblet.
De Rainault stared at him, too stunned - but probably also too furious - to be able to utter anything right away.
But finally, he managed to pull himself together to the point where he could again speak some words. "That's it right now, Gisburne. You've been my steward for the longest time. As soon as fitz Edgar is back in the castle he will take over your post. By then you should have left Nottingham or I will have him throw you into the dungeons."
The knight stood up and immediately had to realize that he did not have to pretend to be unsteady on his feet at that very moment. The wine he had just downed caused him to actually have to hold onto the table at this point if he did not want to end up on the floor. It took him a moment to recover sufficiently to be able to leave the hall upright.
"You're going to be sorry, de Rainault," he finally brought out, trying to appear to be incensed. If he did not react to his being kicked out in this manner, the Sheriff would surely notice. In reality, he could barely stifle a grin, because he had not expected to succeed so quickly. Now he just had to be careful not to fall out of character. To make sure that nothing could slip up, he turned around very carefully and left the hall as quickly as his state allowed him to.
"No way, Gisburne," the Sheriff yelled after him. "I won't take you in this time, even if you come crawling back to me." He laughed, but in doing so, he could not avoid appearing a wee bit hysterical.