Machinations
Guy lay face down. His pillow was crumpled under his head and the bedclothes were rumpled and tangled about his legs. His sleep had been a bad one. His drink had gone to his head and resided there well into the night, adding to his fitful slumber.
Though his eyes remained closed, Guy was just starting to become aware. Marian stroked his cheek gently and Guy resisted the urge to open his eyes lest he spoil the moment. He was afraid that if he let on that he was awake, she would stop. He lay still for several more minutes enjoying the attention that his wife was paying him. He reminded himself to become ill more often - she usually paid him heed then.
He could feel her breath, she was so close. It was warm and sweet, like mint. How he longed to kiss her! To feel her lips on his, submitting willingly to his touch. Guy couldn't think on anything more pleasurable. He contained himself, it would be well worth the wait to have her attentions at present.
Giving a hint of a smile, Guy opened his eyes and there with a grin wider than any he had ever seen - was Sheriff Vaisey.
With a jerk, Guy scrambled to the far end of the bed. The humiliation crept across his features like a glowing candle. He quickly wiped his face with his hand trying to wake up and get the feeling of Vaisey's crawling fingers off his skin.
"Wakey, wakey," Vaisey said, leaning down and pressing his elbows to the wrinkled bedclothes, his hands pushed up under his chin. "You look tired Gisborne. Your appetites getting the better of you?"
When there was no response from Guy, Vaisey continued, "Or maybe you're just busy trying to cover over Winchester's progeny. Won't work you know." Vaisey stood and ran his finger along the side of the bed, inspecting it afterwards as if looking for dust. He raised his eyebrows as Guy grumbled something unintelligible to himself. "I know you better than you know yourself, Gisborne. Surely, your wife has quickened. You might be able to fool everyone else but you and I," Vaisey flipped his finger back and forth between himself and Guy, "You and I know different. Don't we?"
Guy struggled out of bed, kicking the sheets to the side as he did so, "Was your reason for coming to discuss my marriage?"
Examining his fingernails the Sheriff said, "Actually - it is for a far grander reason." He bit an uneven nail and spit the remains towards Guy, "You have yet to arrive at the castle. Being as concerned for your welfare as I am, I stopped by hoping to find you had died in your sleep, dismounted your horse improperly and broken your back - even gotten a bloody hangnail!" He had leaned against the bed again, his wrath obvious in the pitch of his voice.
Reflexively, Guy recoiled. His eyes darted to the closed door expecting Marian, or at least Allan, to burst through at any moment. Nothing. Not even the creak of a step.
Taking several quick steps around the bed frame, ever closer to Guy, Vaisey continued, "But no. I find you in bed." He was calmer now but Guy knew that was just as, if not more, dangerous. "Can you tell me why, Gisborne?"
Guy stood silent, crossing his arms over the shirt that was beginning to cling uncomfortably to his shoulders and back. He fastened his eyes onto the Sheriff's own. His heart beat a dull tone deep in his chest so hard and slow that it made him ache. "Did you leave Spencer to guard the Prince?" He did not intend to answer to the Sheriff for his crimes and came to the decision that it would be in his best interests to change the subject.
"Obviously. They are waiting for you impatiently. As is - I believe - your wife. Unexpected company certainly does tax a person. Especially one in such a - ah - delicate situation as she."
Guy furrowed his brow before his eyes widened, "Prince John is here?"
"How bright you are. Yes. Indeed. This very moment."
Guy cursed and snatched up his jacket forcefully, ramming his arms through the sleeves. This was not what he needed. The Sheriff was trying to control him, push him, taunt him. This intrusion would only serve to drive Marian away. And she was already so far gone from him as it was. As Guy yanked open the door, he swore he could almost hear Vaisey behind him remark on how interesting the situation was turning out to be…
Marian stood at the side of the table, her eyes traveling between the Prince, nursing the chalice that had been set before him, and her father who sat across from him with a blanket draped around his bony shoulders. Sir Spencer stood not too far away from her. He was leaned against the doorframe with his arms over his chest and head tilted back. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. It sent chills down her spine.
Prince John ran a finger along the rim of his drink; his head was cocked as he blinked back at Edward. He squinted at the older man, his lips curling back as he did so, "Do you love me, Edmond?"
Marian bit back a sharp retort. The Prince was the reason that her father was no longer Sheriff. The reason that Nottingham was in such poor straits. And in a round about way - the reason that Robin was an outlaw and that she was married to Guy. Only for Guy's sake did she remain quiet. Though an alliance with the Prince would not bode well when the King returned, if that day never came this union would be a protection. She had to remember that.
Edward took a shaky breath, "I do, your Highness." The forced smile flickered and he quickly glanced down at his hands resting on the edge of the table.
Prince John stared at the former Sheriff, as if he didn't quite accept Edward's words as an unquestionable truth. Lifting his chalice to eye level the Prince looked it over with a bored, disinterested gaze - as if trying to mask his true thoughts.
Allan hung in the shadows. He was keeping an eye on the goings on; it was his unspoken job to protect Marian. Even if it wasn't for Guy and Robin, she was his friend - if he dare use so open a word - and he would watch her back. Lurking behind Spencer, Allan watched him roll his shoulders. Observing the muscles of his back, this called to mind why his nose had hurt so distinctly…
It wasn't until Spencer left his post and took two long legged paces further into the room - closer to Marian - that Allan moved silently to the other side of her. He gave a curt nod in Marian's direction but no one could have said for certain that he was blatantly addressing the Prince secondly.
"Highness," Allan said bowing his head slightly, if only so that it wouldn't be assumed that he was quite as disrespectful as he really was. He didn't like it when people barged in uninvited. He tolerated it even less when he personally disliked the set. All he could keep thinking about was that boy in the dungeon.
Spencer turned his attention to Allan, glowering as he did so. His glance didn't linger and he looked back to Marian. His eyes loitered about her but his stare was blank as if he was concentrating on something only visible to the imagination. The smile that traced his lips was unnerving. Too serene. Too pleased. Too confident… Allan took another step towards Marian.
Marian felt the chill race down her spine again. Her stomach turned and twisted. However, it seemed to have been doing that since the Prince and his entourage walked through the door that morning. It was almost getting unbearable.
The entire party turned to the stairs as they heard the bedroom door slam shut. Within a moment, Guy was seen on the staircase. He paused and looked over the edge of the railing, screwing his eyes closed immediately after. Sucking in a mouthful of air, he strode down the stairs. "Your Majesty," he bowed when he finished his descent.
Prince John pushed his chair away from the table and stood, not out of respect but because he wanted to scrutinize Guy. "Sir Guy," he said, dipping his head closer to Gisborne's person.
Guy stiffened; the feeling of his personal space being invaded unsettled him. His eyes took on a confused look as he stood still for the Prince's unprecedented inspection. He met Marian's expression and she looked just as taken aback as he felt.
There was another creek on the stairs as Vaisey gently took one-step at a time. "You were wrong, Sheriff," Prince John commented offhandedly. "He's not decaying. Seems quite well as a matter of fact."
Vaisey smiled, "Yes. Yes he does." He clapped his hands together, "Well, now that we've located the prodigal son - saddle up, Gisborne."
"Milord?"
"We are taking the Prince on a tour of the shire so he can meet some of his adoring nation. So saddle up. Now!" Vaisey did not appear to take kindly to Guy questioning him.
If anything - Guy did not feel like accompanying them on the Prince's day out. What he passionately wanted to do was go back to his bed. Then he wanted to find out exactly how he arrived home - that memory was hazy at best… What he did remember was the fight that he and Marian had the previous night. That stung like a hard whipping. The balm of time hadn't yet soothed the lines and Guy wasn't sure if he needed to bother coming home tonight.
Unable to stall for time, he shot an apologetic look at Marian, obediently following the Sheriff as the intruders left. The Prince smiled broadly and waved over his shoulder. Allan repressed a gag and moved to sit down at the Prince's vacated seat.
"Allan!" Guy yelled back into the room, his voice held no room for argument and even though no direct command was uttered, no one could doubt what he meant.
Begrudgingly Allan stood and forced himself to walk out the door and into yet another hellish day… Surely he deserved some shred of credit for dragging Gisborne's sorry, inebriated carcass home. Not that he would be the one to bring that up to Guy's face.
Marian eased into the seat Allan had only just been occupying. She leaned across the table and took her father's hand. Though they did not always see eye-to-eye, Marian wanted to relieve the sting that Prince John's presence had inflicted.
She felt sick and her stomach rolled and heaved in protest. Not only had they entered her home without permission, they trespassed into her bedchamber, and disturbed her as well as her father's peace of mind. What angered her most was there was nothing she could do or say that would make a difference in the situation. She had to remain voiceless - for her husband's sake.
Suddenly there seemed a shroud lifted from before her eyes. If the Prince was here… She felt like she needed to run, hide, and fight all at once. A disagreeable taste rested on her palate and her stomach twined in a nauseating sensation. If the Prince was here - the boy might be as well.
Suppressing the feeling of vomiting, Marian pressed her hand to her mouth. What if it was too late? What if Guy had killed him already? She shuddered, thinking that she had lain next to him just that night, not even considering that his hands might be bloodied with that of a child.
She pushed that thought down along with the bile rushing to her mouth. Swallowing she said, "I'm going upstairs, Father."
Standing slowly, Edward eased away from the table, "What's wrong?"
Marian felt light-headed as she faked a smile, "I just feel tired - that's all."
Robin silently leaned against the trunk of a tree. His feet were set tightly, one in front of the other as he balanced on the branch holding his weight. He inclined his head to the right, looking down at the path below him. Underneath him, he watched the procession of horses and a carriage as they lurched along the trail.
He wondered why they would be so willing to risk travel through the woods after the warning he had given them the last time they interloped. However, he had never given the Sheriff or Gisborne credit for intelligence. It ended up not surprising him after all. "You think this is wise?" he shouted to the air. No risk. They would never see him.
Guy tugged his horse to a stop and the soft squall that came from the inside of the carriage was obviously from the Prince. Scanning the trees, Guy suppressed a snarl. Of course Hood would come just now. His day seemed to be spiraling down into the depths of hell and it was only morning.
The disembodied voice rang through the forest again, "Where's your human shield, Allan?" Though he knew they would not be parading Philip through the shire, Robin hoped to glean some information from them as to whether or not he was still alive. If Gisborne had killed that boy… Robin fingered his bow. Whether or no Marian cared for him, Robin would not let that go unpunished.
Allan's face was hard. His lips were set in a straight line and he looked to the ground unable to face Robin. His disgrace was noticeable and there was no hiding it.
"Why don't you come out and play, Hood?" Vaisey said, walking his horse closer to his own human shield - Gisborne.
Robin laughed. "I would but you don't play fair."
Smiling, Vaisey continued, "Ah - but don't you want to come and pay proper respect to your sovereign?"
He cringed and swore to himself that Prince John would never be his sovereign. Not even if - God forbid - King Richard met his end by the sword. Morbid thought as that was, it gave him a good idea… "Of course I'll pay my respects. At his funeral."
Prince John poked his head out of the carriage window, "Outrage! Catch that infidel and hang him!"
"Oi," Allan said. "I'm pretty sure 'e believes in God." Both Guy and Spencer turned to look at him, both questioning the fact that he knew that had been the improper use of the word. They also questioned his intellect at correcting the Prince. Allan shrugged and his brow wrinkled upwards. "He fought in the 'Oly land after all."
"I know," Prince John wined, "But he doesn't believe in me!"
Somehow, Allan didn't think that it made the difference…
Shaking his head in amusement, Robin noiselessly slid down from his perch, disappearing into the depths of the forest - leaving them all to gawk after him. He wondered how long it would take them to figure out that he was already gone. He could tell them - but where would be the fun in that?
Guy's breath felt hot and heavy in his throat. How badly he wanted to turn his horse around and go back to his wife. He wasn't sure if he could knowingly leave her with Robin in the area. What if - what if he rendezvoused with her? Guy knew that she had feelings for him once and he could not be persuaded that she didn't retain any of those emotions. He knew better than that.
He eased his breathing. No - Marian would not betray him like that. She would not dally with Hood. She wouldn't…
Upstairs Marian held a hand to her stomach hoping that the churning would settle. The secrets Guy was keeping made her sick. The only reason she knew of all this was from spying on him. If he found that out, the rift would widen between them. A rift that she was slowly trying to close - though her pride made it difficult for her. As hard as she fought against it, she knew that he cared and she cared for him. The thought of his disappointment made her flush.
She felt even more unfaithful as she reached behind the shield above the bed and pulled out a green scarf, soft with age and use. Crossing the room, she tied the cloth to the shutter and let it blow in the air. A smokeless, signal fire.
When Robin finally broke the tree line and approached Locksley his heart pounded. There was his scarf dancing in the wind. She wanted to see him. He didn't have a care in the world as he deftly scaled the trellis and swung into the room.
Marian jumped backwards. She hadn't been expecting him so soon. It gave her a slightly uneasy feeling - had he been watching her all morning?
Robin sensing that he startled her, apologized, "I should have announced myself."
"Yes. You should." As much as she wished to be alone this morning, she also desperately wanted to be comforted. And his mere presence put her at ease.
He looked chagrined, "You wanted to see me?" Beyond thrilled as he was, he was also anxious. It seemed that Gisborne had not harmed her in anyway but that was part of the reason that he had given Marian this means to contact him. In case.
"Prince John is here. He was here this morning with the Sheriff. The boy might be in Nottingham already."
"I happened upon them in Sherwood - when they were heading towards the castle."
Marian narrowed her eyes, "And you didn't tell me?"
"It was only the other day - I hadn't a chance, Marian!"
"Then I suppose you know about the boy?"
"He was with them. I just pray that he is still alive. He didn't look well."
Marian looked away and said her own silent prayer to God asking that the boy remain safe and not be murdered - especially by her husband…
Robin took a step forward, "I came to ask for your help." He licked his lips, "I'll need it to get the boy out."
"Why do you even ask? Didn't I tell you of the Sheriff's plans in the beginning?" Her hands flew to her hips as she spoke. Why did he have to be so infuriating?
The corners of Robin's lips tugged back in a grimace, "In your situation, I didn't want to presume. The information I need may come at a price." He hated asking this of her. He could only hope that if Guy found out that he would be able to save her from her husband's wrath.
"I'll do whatever I can. You know that." She walked in Robin's direction and let her hands fall from her sides, "What do you need me to do?"
"What a pleasant spring day," said Prince John from inside the carriage as it bounced along the dusty road. "My brother, Richard, doesn't quite care for England's climate but I find that I rather enjoy it. I prefer it over France's weather any day."
The Prince turned to Guy, "I hear from the Sheriff that your mother was French. True?"
Guy nodded solemnly, "It is, your Grace."
Only Guy heard Spencer - he was in fact the only one meant to. "I heard that French women are all whores." If it were not for Spencer, swiveling his head to look directly at Guy upon making this statement and for the fact that it was aimed at his dead mother - Guy would have tried harder to turn the other cheek. In this case, he didn't bother to try at all.
Guy was still astride his horse when all the others had dismounted to inspect Nettlestone. As Spencer sauntered past him, Guy reached down and took a fistful of Sir Spencer's shoulder length, bronze hair. He yanked back on his prize, "If you ever speak of my mother again I'll work my sword between your ribs and up through your mouth and I'll cut your tongue out from the inside." Guy loosened his grip and Spencer tried to pull away only to find Guy retighten his hold and tug back, "Do you hear?"
When Spencer made no response, Guy jerked upwards, "I said, 'do you hear?'"
Nodding made several more of the fine hairs rip out of his scalp. Spencer felt his teeth clench and his lips parted in a wince of pain. He stumbled forward when Guy shoved him away. When he looked back at Guy, he focused all the hate he had for him in his gaze. He felt his hand on the pommel of his blade. Sucking air between his teeth he removed his hand from his sword, he had to bide his time.
Allan was standing in the shadows. It seemed that was his place in life. He rued not being liked by the people; when he was with Robin, everyone at least cared about his presence. Now - well, now he wanted to hide. To disappear behind the others and live the life of a ghost. Though he was certain that the healer woman would assist him to that end quick enough, he decided against it…
The people of Nettlestone eyed him warily. Even with the hushed whispers having all but ceased in his time as Guy's man, he still felt the sting in their looks and unspoken words. He stood behind Gisborne, keeping his head held high but his eyes down.
Spencer watched Allan with a curiosity that he could not place. From Sir Spencer's standpoint, Allan had gained, rather than lost. He was no longer an outlaw and had a position of authority. People feared him. They respected his power. Despite this prominence, he did not seem to relish the superiority of his circumstances.
"Do you hope to earn favor with the people by playing at humility?"
Allan met his eyes and made a short disgusted sound, "Ya know - you're a lot stupider than you look."
Sir Spencer blinked once, then twice. It was then that the realization of what Allan had said hit him. His teeth clenched tightly and his mouth transformed into a snarl. What should have taken three strides, Spencer made in one and lunged for him.
Allan had been waiting for him this time and easily ducked his enemy's clutches. He snickered as Spencer was forced to regain his balance after he swiped the air.
Guy made it a point to look away. He was not at all interested in saving Allan's hide again when he was provoking Spencer to skin him alive. Neither was he concerned with Spencer - the man deserved whatever he received. He stood with his arms over his chest and looked to the heavens above. Surely God was not so cruel as to force him to endure yet another fight between the two?
In the end, Prince John caught the two scuffling. "What?"
Guy cringed at the slightly too high pitch of the Prince's voice. He rubbed his forehead and turned to look at Allan. Giving a shake his head, Guy stood next to the Sheriff - Allan had done it now. Shrugging his shoulders, Allan met Guy's stare - unconcerned and unabashed.
"What," the Prince repeated, "Is the meaning of this?"
"He," Spencer said, pointing at Allan as if the rest of the party were too dim-witted to know to whom he was referring. "Insulted me!"
Allan cringed, his face having felt the rush of air from his adversary's lungs. He suppressed a gag - how he wished that Spencer would chew some anise!
Prince John replied with a dry, 'Oh.' With a flick of his wrist that made the elaborate sleeve of his surcoat dance at the movement, he gestured to the Sheriff, "Settle it."
Guy's stomach knotted and by the look on Allan's face he was almost certain that his did as well. What would the Sheriff do? Guy knew that he held no love for Allan. He was disposable. Would he arrange for him to be done away with now?
"What would you care to see, your Highness?" Vaisey said, leering in the direction of Allan. Who to him, was not worth the trouble he caused, Hood's former man and their informant or no…
"Have him apologize so we can be on with it!"
Despite his being crestfallen, Vaisey took the Prince's words at face value, "You heard him. Apologize!"
His grin encompassing his entire face, Allan turned to Spencer and capitulated to the Sheriff's demand. Well - as well as could be expected from Allan… "I'm sorry you're like the way you are."
How quickly and smoothly the words came out, gave Guy the suspicion that he had been practicing and saving that particular innocent insult for quite some time. Either that or Allan was quicker than even he gave him credit for.
Spencer's mouth dropped agape for but a moment. Only he cared that he had just been insulted again. The Sheriff muttered a terse 'good' and left him standing there like a fool. Not willing to risk the censure of being childish, Spencer growled to himself but refused to call Allan out. One day. One day he would have his revenge. Oh, how sweet he intended to make it.
Marian tried to remain calm. Over and over she kept telling herself that getting angry would only cause the day to end badly. And she managed for a time. Managed quite well in fact. When Guy pushed past Thornton and headed for the buttery, Marian took a deep breath and followed him as he poured a chalice full of burgundy liquid. It didn't take him long to drain his drink and Marian stood patiently by and waited for him to acknowledge her. Robin needed information about the guards. He needed her to find out the rotations and routines for the guarding of the King's son.
Bleary eyed, Guy turned to her and an unnatural smile softened his features. The smile didn't last long for he sighed and began to trudge to the stairs. "Don't hold supper."
Her heart felt as though a rock had evicted it and taken up residence in its place. Every step she took made her ask the silent question: did he kill the boy today? Every creak spoke to her and every sound, including the silence, seemed to echo this very worry. Had he? Her hope of being able to change him felt as if it was slowly dieing with this query.
"Is Allan at the castle guarding?" She cursed herself - it came out all wrong. Contrived, out of place, too much too soon.
Guy paused on the last step and turned back to face her, "Why should he be?"
Her words were rushed, "I thought - with the Prince here - that he would have extra duties."
Suspicious, Guy's brow wrinkled, "No." He turned around and continued to the bedchamber.
Marian bit her lip - hard enough that she knew she put an indent in the soft flesh from where her teeth pressed down. "But there are extra duties?"
Guy stopped, "What's this about, Marian?"
She looked as innocent as she could, "Nothing. I was just wondering."
"Care will kill a cat," Guy said. His words were flat but his eyes asked questions - questions that Marian did not want to answer.
Marian kept silent and followed Guy as he entered their room. She tried to keep her eyes focused on the rest of the chamber while he stripped down to his braies. She found the bright yellow of Guy's shield above the bed frame to be most distracting.
"Go back down and eat," Guy said, pulling back the blanket. His eyes were tired and he needed to shave. Marian could feel her own jaw line tickle imagining the pricks of his stubble if he were to kiss her. She couldn't reconcile with herself if the thought appealed to her or made her cringe.
"Why don't you?" She gripped her elbows, her arms tightly over her chest.
"I don't care to," was the reply she received - short as it was. Seeing her perturbed face, Guy's eyes grew gentle, "The day went badly." He crossed the room and laid a hand on her cheek. "Spencer behaved like the pig he is." His words were such a sharp contrast to his tender action that Marian couldn't fathom the twain being done at once. She dared not show it though - he was opening up and the more open he was the easier it would be to extract information… Although if he was letting her in, she would also hate herself all the more for deceiving him of her true intentions.
"What happened?" Marian asked. Her words were silver-tongued and Guy fell into them, relating the insult that Spencer had used to darken his mother's memory. What made it sting more for Guy, was not the fact that it was an outrageous lie but that it had a ring of truth to it. That is what made it unbearable.
The way Marian responded shocked Guy. He doubted that she could even remember his mother and yet the look of hate that overtook her face gave him a small thrill. She was on his side in something at least.
Marian herself felt the deep seed of anger sprout in the pit of her stomach and grow till it was bursting from between her lungs. She knew herself the pang of sorrow that loosing a mother could bring and she held all that her mother was dear. To see that memory tarnished would be worse than if someone had slapped her. To hear that Guy's mother had been insulted infuriated her. She imagined how she would feel if he had spoken so of the woman who gave her birth.
This woman - a woman who she might have one day called mother - had done no wrong. How dare Spencer speak so of the dead! Her nostrils flared and her mouth felt tight. It took only a moment for her to recall the anger she had felt when the Prince was tormenting her father and she felt a renewed vigor. Desperately she wanted to lash out at something. Though she had only known him for a brief period and had hardly spoken to him, Marian despised Sir Spencer. "If that boy comes to harm at his hand-"
Too late did she catch her blunder. Guy's head snapped to her and he stared unbelieving at her, "Boy? What boy?"
The irrational anger receded almost as quickly as it had come. Marian worried at her lip. Guy was right - care did kill the cat… "I - I misspoke."
Guy snorted and chuckled to himself, an action that was even more unsettling than Marian would have cared to admit. His voice was slow and steady, "When?"
"When what?" Marian whispered, all the bravado had been displaced from her and she desperately wished that she could go back and slice her words out of the air between them. Air that was too thick and stale now - hot and smothering.
"When did you learn about the boy?" He didn't seem angry, in fact, he seemed hurt. It was the hurt in his eyes that made Marian feel as if he had stabbed her. She would do anything to leave at this very moment.
When she made no effort to respond Guy nodded slowly, "You were spying on me." He felt hot on the outside. Flushed and burning as if he were in the Holy Land again and the hot sands were spilling into his boots and down the back of his sweat soaked shirt. But on the inside, he felt cold. An icy, uncaring cold that traveled through every vein in his body.
Enraged he snatched his shirt, jacket, and breeches from where they lay. Roughly, he put them back on, completely ignoring his wife's continued presence in the room. He donned his long coat also, for the nights still held a chill to them. With that, Guy stalked out of the chamber and let the door slam after him. Though it might seem that he was planning to take up where he had left off at the Trip - that really was the furthest thing from his mind.
Marian stood bewildered in the middle of the room. One moment she was defending Guy's family and the next he was gone. Her carelessness had seen to that… She had distanced her husband yet again, this time completely unintentional. It also meant that the information she needed to acquire for Robin, would have to be attained in a far more complicated manner. However, at the moment, she found that she really didn't care.
Hastily her astonishment began to give way to anger. She tried to be quick to blame him but it was useless - she knew where the culpability lay. "Damn!" She spun around and bolted out the door and down the stairs - thankful that Guy hadn't heard her blasphemy. Even if he was more than guilty of his own.
"Guy!" she called halfway down the steps. "Guy!"
He was almost to the door but he stopped and looked up at her. His eyes were wounded and Marian felt her heart skip a beat. She wished, as she had before, that they would cease fighting. She was tired of provoking him and then feeling guilty about it - even if this time was only caused by a slip of her tongue. Coming to meet him, she said, "Guy, I'm sorry. I did spy on you. But I felt I had to."
"And just now? You were trying to get me to tell you something. Something that could get me killed."
She flinched. There was no denying it. "I want - I want to help the boy."
"No - you want to save him. You can't."
"Surely there is a way."
"There's not. The only way he's going to get out of here is in a bag, slung over the back of a horse." Even as he said the words, Guy felt sick. His own mind repeated Marian's words - surely, there is a way?Nevertheless, if there was - he could not see it. He would have to look into Philip's face and pronounce himself the liar that the boy accused him of being. Guy felt as if he needed to swallow back his wine again but could not.
It also plagued him that he had known. From almost the moment Hood acknowledge the fact that Philip was here, he had known that Marian, his wife, had told him. She had to have. There was no getting past it. Yet he so badly wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Did you tell Hood?" he asked, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back as if preparing himself for the oncoming blow. What else had she willing given to him besides information?
"What?" Marian was still recovering from the way he had depicted the boy's death. It had left her stomach twisting again - she had hoped she was done with that.
"Did you tell my enemy about the boy?"
She felt a sweat break out along her lip. She had done so much already - caused him more pain than anyone should have to face in one night. How could she confess to this crime too? Steadily Marian looked him in the eye, "No."
Guy felt his lips quiver in a small prayer of thanks. Though his entire being wanted to believe her, one small, dark, distrusting part of him still harbored doubt. He hurried to bury it. Push it as far down as it would go and leave it there till judgment day.
Without saying another word, Guy bent down and kissed her forehead. Quietly he turned to the door again and opened it, revealing the darkening landscape.
"Where are you going?" Marian asked, her unmasked surprise coated the words. She had thought that her apology would make him stay. He couldn't still be angry - could he?
"There's something I need to do," Guy said. His blue eyes trained on her now and Marian could feel the affection in them. Somehow, the fact that she had rectified the argument made her feel lighter, as if there was air between her feet and the wooden floor. She had reconciled with him straight away and that seemed to make a difference to her. It was far better then letting the anger stew in her blood for hours. However, after Guy stooped and kissed her again, this time on her lips and left, Marian stood alone with the fact that she had lied to him. She hung her head in shame…
Allan sat in the Trip, three cups splayed out before him. Under one of them was a coin and only he knew which. He had made a tidy sum by now. Each coin had carefully found its way to a money pouch lying on the bench next to his leg.
Allan smiled cheerfully as the man in front of him chose the wrong cup for the second time, "Sorry mate. Go again?" He wet his lips as the fool dug around in his breeches for a third coin. His tongue was still just barely creeping out of the corner of his mouth when he felt a hand tug up on his vest and force him backwards out of his seat.
Guy's voice hissed in his ear, "Come on. We're going to the castle." Before Allan even had a chance to react in word or deed, Guy had propelled him out of the Trip - leaving his earnings to the wind. And though wordlessly they might call out his name, Allan A Dale would never have the chance to go back and retrieve his neglected sum.
Quietly Guy and Allan slid through the corridors, trying to stay out of sight. Upon reaching the dungeon, Guy held a finger to his lips. Allan held back and waited while Guy moved forward. Two castle guards stood at attention. Guy dismissed them without a word. They left quickly without questioning their superior. It appeared that he had come to relieve them early and who were they to ask otherwise? Being desirous of a hot meal and seeing their wives, they were perfectly content in believing that they were done - erroneous as it might be.
"What's this about?" Allan asked stepping forward.
"I need you to stay here and keep watch."
"What for?" Allan demanded. He was not about to be forced here and then given a menial task.
"Do I have to say it again?" Guy's voice was a low growl.
Allan narrowed his eyes, "But why couldn't they watch the door for ya?" He tilted his head in the direction the guards went.
"Because, I don't want to be spied upon." Again…
Allan scoffed and then felt a shiver race down his back, "Wha' are you planning on doing?" He instantly feared that Guy might be going to kill the boy right here, right now. Whether to save the child pain and dread he did not know - nor did it matter. Allan wasn't sure if he could stand by and let that happen…
Ignoring Allan's question, Guy pulled open the heavy door and started down the stone steps, his boots clinking after him. The relative silence was welcome after Allan's myriad of questions. It was dim in the dungeon and Guy had to adjust to the darkness quickly or risk tumbling down the stairs. A pastime he didn't wish to repeat.
Allan was left standing bewildered and alone. He turned his back to the door and ran a distressed hand through his hair, puffing out his cheeks in response to the anxiety he felt. How could he let this happen? He kept trying to reassure himself that Guy wouldn't act without the Prince's instruction. Still more, the Prince might not even use Guy to execute his nephew. No. It was no execution. No hardened criminal waited to dance upon the hempen rope. It was murder. Murder of a child - a mere boy. His stomach felt as though it had dropped into his boots. What was he to do?
Guy kept to the center of the walkway; he didn't want any grubby, reaching hands to grab at his leathers as he walked past. In the faint light, Guy noticed the shadow that his figure cut as he walked to the far end of the dungeon. He looked menacing. He almost stopped and turned about. He tried to put himself in the lad's place and picture how he would feel if a threatening man encroached on his space in the dark of the night. He shook his head, the more he thought about Philip and what he was enduring - the more memories of his own youth he dredged up. Many of those he would like to remain hidden - like the fleeting recollections of nightmares.
Not that he had been locked in a cell, waiting to die at the order of his relative no less. However, he knew what it was like to have everything and everyone taken away from you. Guy's teeth ground involuntarily and he continued past the cells - some empty, most not.
Upon approaching Philip's, he touched the bars, holding onto them as if they were his only support. Despite his thick, leather gloves, he could still feel the cold creeping into his fingers and causing them to stiffen. "Boy," Guy said without ceremony, lowering his head so that it nearly leaned against the dirty, bitter bars. "Are you awake?" He almost considered asking if he was alive but decided against it.
Guy heard a shuffling sound from the darkness before a small figure staggered over to him. Grimacing, Guy tried to look past the pitiful state of Philip and concentrate on the bars separating him from the boy. He need not ask how the lad felt - it was apparent he was in a bad way and if Guy could part the hair on the back of his head, he was sure the large knot would be proof thereof.
Guy stood and stared at the child for what seemed like ages. He couldn't understand what force was pulling him down here. Did he want to look into the soft eyes of his next kill? That was not what he wanted; he wanted something more he wanted to do something…
The Sheriff would call him weak were he caught down here. He would prance around him, pointing out his flaws - his humanity - before he told him to get some sense. Before he told him to kill the boy in cold blood. Even though Guy couldn't quite place how murdering Philip would be any different from the other heinous crimes he had already committed in the eyes of an all-seeing God - he still felt the twang of shame when he looked at the boy.
"What?" Guy said. Lost in his own thoughts, he had not heard that Philip was speaking softly to him.
The voice that came out was dry and cracking, "Do you have any water?"
Guy felt a pang of - of what? Was it guilt? Sorrow? Anger? Regret? Or all of them? Oh how he remembered the trials that he had to go through to obtain water in those early days when his home was lost to him. The simplest of things. The one you most take for granted. Even a muddy puddle had been a lifesaving resource. "No." He was sorry for the answer but it was all he had to give.
Philip turned away and Guy could still see the way he held himself erect, weak and hurt as he was. This child was dignified and he wouldn't let the situation he was in take that away from him. Guy sighed and looked down, rubbing his hand over the bar as he did. This young, frightened lad carried more worth than he did.
Guy took note of how Philip's shoulders gave a little shudder - from the cold or disappointment he could not discern. He couldn't blame him for not looking at him - Guy didn't want to face himself. The situation plagued him - he didn't even have the courage enough to help a suffering child. He was pathetic. He exhaled and smiled cynically at himself, Vaisey would be pleased…
He continued to watch as Philip lay down on the ground and curl up, bracing against the chill. The stone floor was littered with filth and the corners still held the remains of stale excrement and gore - what wretched conditions for a child. "Boy," Guy lifted his head up from where it had been leaning against the stone wall. His eyes were bright as he spoke, "Come here."
Guy firmly, yet quietly closed the heavy door behind him. The next watch would be coming any moment and he knew that if they possessed any sense they wouldn't question him. Allan stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His chin seemed to be jutting out and he was staring Guy down.
"What?" Guy asked, staring right back. Allan was not going to make him flinch.
Allan's petulant mood had gotten the better of him, "What were ya' at down there?"
"That's my concern - isn't it?"
"Did you 'arm him?"
Guy's lip twitched, "You're forgetting your place, A Dale."
"Ya' know it's wrong. By God's eye it's wrong." Allan felt his arms tremble in anger. How he wished that he were with Robin and his friends right now. He did not want to be a party to this slaughter. "Marian would find it wrong."
Guy rounded on him, "Don't tell me what my wife thinks!" He felt an unbidden bolt of anger coursing through him, "When did you grow a bloody conscience?"
"I got one when I was 'oping you'd grow a heart!"
"You think you're so much better? Go crawl back to Hood. I'm sure he'll take you back. If only so he could slit your throat himself."
Without another word, Allan left. His insides felt as though they were bubbling. Allan knew Robin was not infallible but at this moment that was the only person Allan wanted to see. Maybe Guy was right - he was slinking back to Robin. Alas - If Guy was correct on that head, maybe he had hit the mark on his last words too. Allan rubbed his neck at the thought of Robin slicing a knife across it. He was quite fond of his throat - it had served him well.
He stormed down the hall. The very walls themselves seemed to mock him, as if they were boasting about how sturdy they were while he was crumbling inside. Turning a corner he ran into a set of guards come to take the next shift. Their hands went instantly to their swords and Allan held his hands up, palms out to appease them. Over the past few weeks he had been patiently waiting for some guard he had played a trick on or swiped something off of as an outlaw to exact revenge. Could this be the night?
He was put at ease when they recognized him as Gisborne's man, releasing the grip they had on their weapons. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gave a gulp and nodded in their direction before continuing on his way. He thought to himself as he sustained his fast pace, if they knew where he was off to - they wouldn't have let him go so painlessly.
If Allan's rage and worry for the boy had not clouded his judgment, he would have seen Guy slam his fist against the wooden door in his own anger. And if Allan had been observant, he would have noticed that Sir Guy of Gisborne - the Sheriff's cold-hearted enforcer - no longer wore his coat…
Guy gently eased himself into bed that night so as not to disturb his sleeping wife. He let out of puff of air as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His mind wandered and he almost wished that he knew where Allan had gone. There was a part of him that didn't care to know. Whether Allan was still loyal or not was contingent on where he was at daybreak. Guy's shoulders felt heavy enough without worrying if Allan would be waiting for him or plotting with Hood. He shook his head, now was not the time to dwell on it. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
He maneuvered his hands to cup the back of his head and recalled the past several hours to mind. "Thank you," Philip had said when he held the thick leather in his hands, before quickly wrapping himself into the still warm coat. It was the meek way that he said it, mild and truly thankful, that broke Guy. It was at that very moment that Guy knew that he would not be able to kill the boy. He didn't know how he would get past it but he knew that if he murdered that child he would have no humanity left in him and he would not be worth saving. He would be damned - if he wasn't already.
Allan stole through the forest, muttering to himself. He wished he had taken time to make sure that the boy was all right. Guy didn't look like he had just slaughtered Philip in cold blood but that, Allan knew, did not really mean anything.
Getting closer to the camp, he tread as softly as he could. The last thing he wanted to meet up with was a surprise. Therefore, when Will laid a steady hand on his shoulder, Allan jumped and nearly fell backwards into his former friend.
"What are you doing here?" Will said, his voice was muted and raspy and his grip tightened just slightly on Allan's sleeve.
"Oi, you scart' the blithering piss out'a me!"
Will narrowed his eyes and took another step closer, the remnants of fallen leaves crackling beneath his feet. "Where's Gisborne?"
"Well how should I know?"
"You work for him. You lick his boots. You're his man."
Allan would have preferred it if Will had taken his axe and chopped off his arm - it would have been better than hearing those cutting words. He refused to let that show and instead smacked his tongue between his lips - he didn't remember any boot licking… Being arrogant was far easier than showing his true feelings. "I'm here to see Robin. Gisborne's in Nottingham."
Will himself was hurt and attacking with words seemed to be his only defense. Allan - his friend, nay his brother - had betrayed them. He had fought on their side and then sold them out to a man who lived to see them dead. "And why should I take you to him?"
Allan's eyes sparkled as they always had, "Because we're mates."
Will kept his expression stony, "That's not a valid reason anymore."
Lowering his head, Allan continued, "Surely our bad blood can't last."
"If a wound is deep enough you loose what blood you had."
Using cheekiness to cover his own distress, Allan held up a finger and said, "I know a healer who could fix that."
Will rolled his eyes. "Robin won't like it."
"Sure 'e will."
"Are you so sure about that?" Both Allan and Will looked to their right and there, from behind a tree, came Robin. "What is it you want, traitor?"
A/N
Here it is. I swear that I will start on chapter eighteen right away! I hope you enjoyed it… I hope that Guy was believable. And see - Marian is trying really hard to make and keep peace. ;) I also hope that Allan seemed real… Next time we get to see Allan and the outlaws!
And Poor Marian - so sick she is. Hopefully she gets to feeling better soon…
I pray that Guy dealing with Philip was believable. Remember how he behaved with those three little boys he found spying on him when he was testing the Damascus steel… He tried to help them. He didn't do a very good job but he tried… Lets give him an E for effort, shall we?
It is four A.M. I have been up all night. Forgive the story. It is not its fault… (it is not four A.M. now - I had to proofread over a couple of days. But I thought I would just leave this sentence the way I wrote it…)
As for the Guards leaving conveniently - they are Nottingham guards after all… They tend to be oblivious and the like. They would probably fall for things like "If you say gullible very slowly it sounds like green beans…" Well - you get the picture anyway…