Tarnished
It was not as though the day intended to start bad but the downpour had that effect. Guy felt drenched to the bone as he entered the castle. The rain had entered the back of his coat due to the sheer amount of it. He arched his shoulders but still, his soaked undershirt felt like an uncomfortable second skin.
His hair dripped steadily into his eyes from saturated clumps. The insides of his boots felt soggy as well. Guy shivered, the rain had an icy trait to it and it leached through his flesh deep into his marrow.
If Guy of Gisborne had faired this poorly - Allan had faired worse. His cloak, thick as it might be, had taken less than half the journey to be rendered useless. His vest only managed to keep his chest and back a few degrees warmer than the rest of him and his thin shirt had done nothing for his sodden arms. His teeth chattered, vehemently complaining to him, and he was afraid that part of the water trickling down into his mouth was coming from his nose.
Against his better judgment, Allan checked his purse. The uneaten contents of his breakfast were sadly damp but still edible. He retied the cord just as previously distant footsteps grew increasingly louder.
Sir Spencer and Sheriff Vaisey rounded the corner, in animated conversation. They were disgustingly dry.
"Gisborne!" the Sheriff cried, "I see you managed not to float away."
"Yes milord." Guy did not feel that he had the will to deal with the Sheriff today. His neck was stiff from having slept upright in a chair. What little sleep he had gotten that is… It was all he could do to get himself out the door this morning. That was until she came down.
To her credit, she was hesitant. She didn't act as if she was in control of everything, neither did she meet his eyes right away.
That alone took him aback - this was not his Marian. His chest muscles cramped. No. His Marian had let Hood into her room - invited him. Moreover, the child that she carried was that of his enemy. She might be his before God and man but he refused to find himself burnt by her pretty flame again. He opened the door; Allan was out there already, hovering under the overhang attempting to maintain some semblance of dry.
"Guy," she said, moving a little quicker down the last three stairs.
He had not bothered stopping. He didn't want to see her, let alone speak with her. Not this morning - he was still too raw. She had only returned with him for the safety of her baby. Not because she loved him.
Allan took notice of the situation, shook his head, and jerked his chin in the direction of Marian. Guy ignored him and knew that if he glanced back, she would be standing on the threshold, watching him.
Now he was unsure whom he wanted to speak to least - Vaisey or his wife. He increasingly trickled onto the stone floor, each splat reminding him how much he would like to dry himself. Guy wondered how long the Sheriff would keep him standing there.
Spencer had made it a priority to position himself precisely in front of Allan, subsequently blocking his path. Allan understood his game and though he should have long ago adopted a healthy fear of Spencer, Allan had yet to find that necessary. With seemingly uncalculated indiscretion, Allan decided to rid himself of the water that continuously flowed past his lashes. Allan shook his head fiercely, and the leftover raindrops flew from him, directly onto Sir Spencer's leering face.
Spencer gave a restrained bellow of outrage while blindly swinging at Allan, who had plenty of time to dodge the blow. Skirting around a seething Spencer, Allan went to stand next to Guy. Neither Guy nor Vaisey had been paying attention to the others; nonetheless, despite Allan looking outwardly oblivious to what had just occurred, Guy knew indisputably that Allan had caused the other knight's outburst.
The Sheriff's face quirked, "Really Spencer, if you've taken to batting at imaginary foes I'll find you some poor lad to spar with. Maybe that stable boy you've been griping about."
Spencer's wounded dignity caused him to mutter something that - should it be made out by human ears - would be counted as decidedly unpleasant.
Vaisey clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Clean up - the Prince has requested your presence."
Guy felt his breath constrict in his lungs. This was it - Prince John would demand Philip's death. If he could, Guy would be the one to carry out the deed and save him from the show that Spencer would perform. He could see Allan grow swiftly pale; he must have had the same suspicion.
It was then, under this harsh reality, that Guy remembered that he had not looked in on the boy for two days. His own personal problems had overpowered any tendency toward benevolence. Guy dare not go to check on him before he saw the Prince. And after - it might not be necessary…
Spencer caught Guy's eye and gave a wicked smirk. Allan didn't miss it either and it made his skin crawl far worse than sleeping on the ground in mid-summer ever had. Allan knew that Spencer wanted them to squirm and would do whatever it took to accomplish that.
With great misgiving, Guy and Allan walked to the Sheriff's office. Vaisey and Spencer were already there and the Prince lingered near the window with his arms folded, glaring at the never-ending rain. He tapped his fingers against his arm, impatiently watching. "Why does everything continue to thwart me at every turn?" Guy could not help but cringe at the whine in Prince John's voice. It reminded him of a sword scraping down a stone wall. Did the man truly think that the weather had plotted against him?
The Prince continued, fully aware of their presence but brusquely keeping his back to them as if they had had ample time to admire his front and he was doing them a favor by giving them occasion to appreciate his other half. "I so wanted to walk among my subjects, giving them opportunity to love me up close instead of from afar. But as it stands - I can't bring pleasure to their pathetic lives if I am catching my death of cold."
Guy remained silent, if the Prince summoned them here to insist that they sort out the weather… Guy didn't even want to think on it. Was it possible for his life to scramble anymore out of his hands? He answered his own question - quite possible.
"If this interminable rain ever ends, we will call on my adoring subjects so they can pay their respects to me and tell me in person how honored and grateful they are to provide food from their own mouths for my feast!" On this note, Prince John spun around and gave a clap of his hands. His smile split his face and neither half was appealing.
Allan felt his lips convulse while he held back a snarl. How could this man be so insensible? Unless it was utter cruelty that drove him. Allan did not know, nor did he care to. He was disgusted to be a part of it no matter the motive.
Prince John waived his hand as if they were all insects and he was shooing them along, "Dismissed." He turned back to the window, "And if the heavens close, you can have my riding clothes readied directly!"
Guy didn't dare look at Vaisey. Sent from his own office while the Prince commandeered it for an unknown length of time was enough to damage the ears of anyone close. He was bound to be livid and Guy did not care to play the role of scapegoat. He would let that unfavorable post fall to Spencer if he was imprudent enough to continue shadowing the Sheriff. Gisborne chuckled; see what attempting to assume his position got him in this case.
It puzzled him that Prince John had called them together only to dismiss them. He was either trying to assert his indisputable power or-…
"Oh - one more thing. Gisborne. There is something of importance that has been brought to my attention. Your wife - Lady Marian. There is a nasty little rumor going around, that paints her in poor light."
Guy was rigid, what did he know? That Marian had been seeing Hood? That she was carrying his baseborn? Or that she had told Robin about Philip? He could feel the sweat inch its way down his back and he bit his tongue hard to keep himself composed.
"I hoped that it wasn't true but it seems to come from a reliable source…" The Prince trailed off slightly and Guy could swear that he shared a fleeting look with Sir Spencer. Guy felt his blood turn to fire.
Prince John continued, "I have been informed that your wife used to be betrothed to Robin Hood. Is there anyway to disprove this unjust accusation?"
"No my liege. It is true." While Guy acknowledged this fact, something told him that the Prince never really questioned its authenticity for an instant.
"I see." Prince John pressed a finger to his lips in contemplation. "You do realize that this places doubt on her love for me - correct?"
Guy's face felt hot, "I do."
"And do you have any way in which she can prove her love for me - and only me?"
Guy held back a sharp retort. The only one he wanted his wife loving was himself. He pressed his teeth harder on his tongue. Guy forced himself to remember that right now he did not want or need her love.
"Marian was betrothed to him years ago, your Majesty. She has put that time behind her." Guy hoped that no one could tell that he was lying. "She is loyal to the cause."
"Yes, yes. But is there a way to prove it?"
Guy took a deep breath before speaking, "She married me." In truth that was the worst reason he could have given because, in her eyes, that didn't mean a thing…
"I suppose - but do think on it. I'd like further proof."
Giving a curt nod, Guy turned and left the room. Vaisey and Sir Spencer were just ahead of him while Allan stayed a few steps behind. When Spencer separated from the Sheriff, Guy pursued him, quickly picking up speed when Spencer realized what was happening.
Allan skidded to a halt while Guy pressed his forearm into Spencer's windpipe. Some part of Allan felt that he should be horrified at this act of violence but that part was so very small that he couldn't even fathom a valid reason for its existence. That bloke deserved it and Allan wasn't going to be the one to kick up a fuss.
Spencer could not breathe. He felt the air around him but none filled his lungs. His head felt large, as if it were three times the size of his body, while black circles dotted his vision. He felt like collapsing due to lack of air and sadly found that Gisborne was stronger than himself. As much as he'd like to stew on that - he didn't have the time. His knees were buckling, causing him to rely on Gisborne's hold against his throat to support him, in turn making him choke all the more.
Earlier it had seemed doubtful that Gisborne would attempt to murder him at this point in the game. Now though - he had to reassess the matter. It appeared doubtful that he wouldn't. His nails dug into Guy's arm while he endeavored to push him away. His father would consider this a shameful death, even worse than a hanging. To be strangled by the power of your own enemy… There was no honor in that.
Guy remained fixed where he was, placing a steady pressure on Spencer's neck. He leaned in, "I could kill you now." He pushed his arm in a little more. He spoke slowly, drawing each word out, keeping Spencer pinned and suffering as long as he could. "But you're not worth my time. However if you try to place doubt on Marian again - I will kill you."
Guy removed his hold suddenly and Spencer dropped to the floor in a coughing fit. Sir Spencer wrapped his hands about his own throat, softly caressing the bruised flesh. Another choking spasm overtook him as he struggled to stand. He slumped to the ground again, the rough surface digging into his knees. He allowed one hand to support him in order to keep his head off the cold stones. He could feel the grit wedge under his nails as he curled his fingers.
He was disgraced. If his father had been here - no. His father was not here and he would not allow himself to dwell on what the former would have to say on the matter. He lifted his head to watch as Gisborne and A Dale walked away. He would not be made the fool. There were more than enough ways to prove himself. To Gisborne. The Prince. All of Nottinghamshire. Fortunately, he knew just how to do it…
Marian didn't bother to feign appetite. Besides the morning's nausea, she had too much weighing her down to attempt to make an effort. A myriad of questions troubled her and almost all of them had to do with Guy. Her marriage - something sacred that she had wanted time and again to fix - was in ruins at her feet. Had Guy overlooked her faults so many times that she just assumed that he would keep on forgiving?
What would happen now? When the baby came? Would he continue to sleep elsewhere? If so, how long would it be before he allowed himself to dally in the arms of another woman rather than sully his hands with her?
Marian found herself wishing things back the way they had been before he had stumbled upon her and Robin. She surprised herself by this realization when, in actuality, she had never wished to marry Guy in the first place. Could all of this be the result of that? Her heart's secret desire to be free of him? The more she questioned it, the more confused she felt. Still in defiance of all that had happened, she had discovered something. It was no longer an attempt, or a challenge. She found that, with the sudden removal of his affections, she loved him. It seemed that her feelings had grown more pronounced and open to herself with this catastrophic turn of events. Try as she might - there was no way to deny it. Sadly, it might be too late now.
Edward laid his spoon down and looked closely at his daughter and then at the meal set out before him. There was no need for him to speak for Marian knew his intentions. He was refusing to eat if she didn't. Touched and irritated at the same time, Marian tried to eat something - if not for herself, for her father and the baby.
She managed a few mouthfuls before she allowed her bowl to be taken. "I'm going to Nottingham," she announced, standing up and brushing her hands down her dress. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear and continued before her father could question her judgment, "I won't be long." She bent down and kissed his forehead, silencing any protest she could see him mustering. She had to talk with Guy.
Philip could not deny that he wished for more of the crusty bread that he had gnawed on the night before - unsavory as it was. It was not as awful as it could have been - once you got past the weevils that is… In all honesty, he was grateful to have anything.
The growling of his stomach had woken him. He wasn't tired anyway - sleeping was all he had to do. Nevertheless, when he was not asleep he was preoccupied with the outcome of his life. His uncle would not let him leave Nottinghamshire alive…
He found no need to be startled when he heard someone come down the stairs. His uncle had made a similar appearance the day before, having the cheek to ask him if he loved him. His forehead furrowed when he saw Allan and Sir Guy. He figured they had forgotten him. He felt enraged at their audacity to ignore him - for two days - and have the face to come back.
Philip crossed his arms unhappily and informed himself that there was no real reason for them to check in on him. They were not his wet nurses. He knew he was being childish and he hated himself for it. He kept his chin up, making eye contact; he didn't want them to see him debase himself any more than he already had.
The first thing Allan did was remove the coin purse from his hip. "Here eat," he said, giving it a gentle shake.
Philip only hesitated a second to swallow his pride - as his stomach was mostly empty anyway, this was not a difficult task. Philip reached for the bag, and Allan transferred the pouch to his hand. It was damp but food was food. Prince John and Sheriff Vaisey might have scorned at the contents of the package but to Philip it was a meal fit for a king.
"Go on then. Its all yours," Allan said, with a pleased grin. Lately, it wasn't often that he felt the pleasure of doing a good deed.
Guy looked at the boy and felt torn in two. Just days ago he had concluded that he would be unable to murder him and now - now he was counting on it. A mercy killing. This was the only way to truly save him.
Marian wanted there to be some way to free the boy. Unfortunately, that was not an option. Guy could not just unlock the door and let him loose. The Sheriff would know and he would be condemned to death. There was no way to save the child without incriminating himself. There would be no accounting for his whereabouts if he were involved in such an occurrence. Unless…
Immediately he felt as if rocks pummeled his whole being. No. There was not a chance in hell! It felt as if the thought was a rat and it was chewing on his skull from the inside - trying to see the light of day. Not over his dead body would he do something so against his feelings. Guy of Gisborne would rather fall on his own sword. And yet the only other option left open to him was to kill the boy or allow Spencer to. Nothing could leave a more repulsive taste between his teeth…
Philip was staring. Guy straightened; his previous reflections must have left him looking disheveled. He knew Allan had seen it too and that made him uncomfortable, "Go stand guard." He had nothing further to say and therefore silently passed the child a flask of watered down wine.
Allan did not question Guy, though the wild look that had passed over him was worrisome. Giz hadn't hurt Philip before - what reason did he have not to trust him? Still he felt a million small doubts burrow inside him like maggots in rotting meat. If anything - the person Allan needed to worry about was Sir Spencer. He could only have faith that Robin and the gang would save the boy in time.
Philip wasn't as thirsty as he had been before - though the dish water that he had been given was far less than to be desired. He was certain that his uncle had given explicit instructions for him to receive the worst treatment feasible. The wine Sir Guy provided was sour - nothing compared to the high quality his grandmother served. That was long in the past - beggars could not be choosers. It was better than anything he'd had for two days.
He hadn't quite finished when Allan rushed down the steps and almost tripped at the bottom. His eyes were bright with something that Philip couldn't quite place and from the look of it - he really didn't want to.
Allan was breathing hard, "I heard somethin' and went and looked - Spencer - 'e has that stable boy. He's beating him to death."
Guy didn't trust Allan for an unexaggerated account, and years of Vaisey's tutelage left him somewhat unaffected. "Go tell the Sheriff," was the first thing that came to his lips.
"He's watchin' - him and the Prince. It's like a bleeding fair out there!"
Wordlessly Guy started up the steps. Allan didn't wait to catch his breath before he ran after him, with a hope and a prayer that there was something to be done and Gisborne would take a stand and do it.
The rain had ceased, leaving only puddles. Guy surveyed the area. First, he spotted the Sheriff and Prince John and Guy turned in the direction they were fixated. Allan had not been lying. Spencer was in the courtyard and had something gripped in his hand. It took Guy a moment to recognize the stable lad. Spencer had a hold of his shirt and Guy couldn't mistake the sickening noise when a fist connects with flesh.
It appeared that was not the first time the lad felt Spencer's hand. When Spencer released him, the boy fell backwards and lay still. Either having learned to stay down or unable to stand.
Sir Spencer bent and took hold of the boy's hair and punched him again as the child twisted awkwardly back onto the ground. "Oh my," Prince John said, pressing the fingers of his right hand to his mouth. Although the words could be taken to mean revulsion and shock, Guy could easily tell that the King's dear brother was enjoying the display.
That was when the entire spectacle made sense - this wasn't to punish the boy - this was for the Prince. Guy's stomach twined about itself, Spencer was using this charade to earn the right to kill Philip. If he put on a grandiose enough show - the Prince would bestow the honor on him.
Guy was positive he was correct, that was until Spencer looked his way. The gleam in his eyes was unmistakable - he wanted Guy to see this. This wasn't a mere punishment for some petty crime or only an elaborate display for Prince John - this was an exhibition put on for his benefit as well.
He wanted Guy to see him kill this child so that he would know what Philip would be facing. So that he would be forced to make a choice. He could guess the other part of Spencer's plan without having to think.
Spencer was dragging this out trying to get him to intervene. Guy knew if he did, the Prince would inevitably choose Spencer for the task of murdering Philip - declaring Guy too soft. Then the only way he would be able to save Philip undo agony would be to kill him without permission. Doing so would put his life and the lives of those in his protection at risk. Was he willing to chance that? If not - he had to hold his ground now.
Guy realized that help would not come from another source. No one other than guards and a few stray passersby were near and they either didn't care to or were too frightened to step in. Although fear and callousness didn't play a role on his part - Guy couldn't declare himself their better. How could he justify saving one boy from suffering while abandoning another?
When Spencer struck again Guy winced as if he too felt the impact and became sickened at not only Spencer but also himself. Guy of Gisborne had so many things in his life to atone for he couldn't allow this to join the growing list. Everything he did was a choice and he made a choice in regards to his humanity. Knowing and damning the consequences, Guy turned to the Sheriff, "Milord, what has the boy done?" There was no response. "Milord!"
Vaisey looked down at him from the top of the stairs; he was shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. Guy repeated his query and received an uninformed response.
Guy continued, "Milord, what's the point of this?" Nothing. The Sheriff didn't bother to look in his direction for that question. Vaisey had dismissed him. Guy heard the Prince snigger behind his hand. There was no point in appealing to them; his words fell on deaf ears. Spencer on the other hand… "Enough!"
Spencer kicked at the body by his feet. Guy couldn't tell if his demand was pointless or not, there was no way to check the stable lad for life. Only the moan that escaped the boy signaled that he wasn't too late. "I said enough!" He grabbed Spencer from behind and, collecting all his strength, hurled him away. Spencer tumbled from the force. Guy watched his face scrape the ground and could hear his clothing rip; it took all his will not to run him through. If Spencer were dead, the majority of his problems would follow. Nonetheless, he did not dare risk killing him in front of the Prince unprovoked.
He knelt down to the motionless boy, his small battered and bruised body lay helplessly before him. He could hear the clatter Spencer's boots made when he jumped to his feet and the swearing that accompanied it. Guy pulled his dagger out and readied himself for a fight. Spencer would not be expecting a weapon so small and it gave him the advantage of surprise. If he were to kill Spencer now, it would be in self-defense. It was then that he saw Allan step in between him and Spencer.
"Get out of the way," Spencer said, the side of his face stung when he spoke. For this outrage, he could easily picture the Prince allowing him to kill Gisborne without any further exertion on his part. What a sweet image to fall asleep to. He steadied himself when he felt his legs wobble from his fall. He had to remain composed; he had to show competence. He had waited his entire life for this opportunity and he would not waste it.
His father had spared nothing in having him trained. He had learned at the feet of the best sword masters in the land. More blood and sweat than he carried in his entire being had gone into his training. His father had wanted him to be prepared to take back what should have been his. Spencer had licked the boots of countless men to get to where he was. He balked at no task, no execution to menial. None too amoral.
Nevertheless, as his son flourished and forged a name for himself and his family - his father still treated him as if he was lacking in some respect. Spencer stood seething, that would change. That man's boot would no longer crush him under its heel. Once this ended - he would have his father's respect.
Allan knew he should have felt fear but only determination seemed to be present. Just a few short years ago, his makeup would have been to flee, but here he was facing down Sir Spencer again. Much was not in danger this time - nor Djaq, Robin, Will, or John. Oh how he wished they were here to back him up. Sadly, he only had Gisborne who might change his mind at the drop of a leaf - or a word from the Sheriff…
This time he was protecting a boy he had only known to order about. However, if this was how Allan could make up some of his wrongs - allow God and man to see him atone for his choices at the cost of his own life - then so be it. Allan was ready. If he did die, then he would do so knowing that he had accomplished one final act of kindness. Maybe Will would even visit his grave and fully offer his forgiveness. Perhaps Djaq would cry over him. If he pushed it - he could even see Robin feeling some form of remorse for refusing to give his mercy when it would have done the most good.
"What is the meaning of this?" Prince John wailed - bringing to Guy's mind a scruffy tom seeking attention.
Hastily Guy bent down further, pressed a hand to the child's shoulder and whispered into his ear, "Stay down." Guy stood, "My liege, I was merely preventing Spencer from making a serious error."
"What error? This was quite like an entertaining gladiatorial battle. May the best man win."
Guy felt a disagreeable taste curdle twice over on his tongue. This was not a fair contest! This was between a grown man and a child! Guy felt sick at himself. He had suggested the Sheriff organize something similar in the past. A festival of pain.
"Your Grace, this boy cannot love you if he is dead."
His words had the desired effect and he wondered how many more times he could use that pretext. Prince John paused and appeared in intense contemplation. He rubbed his hand across his chin as he weighed what Guy said.
Allan chimed in, adding to Guy's argument, "I heard 'im saying how much he loved you. Couldn't get him to shut up 'bout it." Allan was sure if he were to confide to a man of God about the outright lie he had told that he would be given a discourse containing numerous mentions of hellfire.
The Prince, rationalizing that the child could not shout his adoration from the grave, called off the display with an exaggerated flick of his wrist. "Very well. Let him live in order to go on loving me. But - I fully expect him to be grateful for my generosity." He waggled a finger in the direction of the prone boy and it took all Allan had left in him to keep from rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all.
Spencer bent his head back and exhaled, exerting himself to remain calm. There was an end in sight; he would just be forced to wait a little while longer. He didn't bother attempting to redirect his gaze, he let it fall and linger on Gisborne. There could be no doubt that his countenance conveyed every feeling of loathing that was present on the earth.
Prince John approached, but still kept a sizeable distance between himself and the child. He motioned for Spencer to come closer. "Walk with me, Sir Spencer. There is something that I have been meaning to speak with you about. A task that I think you will be found most suited for." Spencer smiled.
Guy motioned for one of the guards, "Get him up. Put him in the stable and bring a bucket of water." When the guard hesitated, Guy yelled, "Now!"
Guy released the guard once the water arrived and Allan spared no time in sloshing a stiff, dry cloth about in it. As he wrung it out over his patient, blood and dirt ran in streaking lines into the bed of hay. Allan was afraid to touch him lest he harm him further.
The boy's mouth was set in a thin line, his lips sucked in while he silently tried to manage the pain. There was no doubt that the boy's ribs were bruised if not cracked and his head had taken a nasty pummeling as well. Allan felt it would be better if he passed out.
Guy lingered by the door. There was nothing further he could do - why cause the child further distress? He watched what Allan was doing and cringed. Allan's bedside manner was deplorable. He was going to drown the boy… Guy shook his head; sighing, he tipped it backwards and let it rest against the doorframe. Letting his eyes close, he was sure that Satan himself had better days.
It was impossible for him to excuse letting Spencer kill this child so he could bestow mercy on another. But in saving one he had let the other down. Philip would die suffering… There was another way. A way that he didn't want to consider previously, suddenly he couldn't get it out of his head.
When he heard noise outside, he stood to his full height, tightening his fingers around his sword. Spencer. There was no doubt that it was him. It didn't matter the reason he came - Guy would relish in the death of him. There would be no witnesses to contradict whatever story he chose. Save Allan of course and if he knew what was good for him he would back up whatever lie was told.
He drew his blade and let the shadows hide him just behind the maw of the stable. The steps grew closer and Guy raised his sword, licking the sweat gathering at his top lip. The steps stopped just outside. Guy leaned forward anticipating the next move. Another step. Guy started to swing and Marian entered the stable…
"Couldn't Marian go to the castle and leave a window open? Maybe the one in Gisborne's room?"
"Who says Gisborne has a room at the castle, Much?"
"It would make sense to me. He would need a place to sleep if he had to stay. Remember that girl, Annie? How do you think-"
"I don't want to talk about that, Much."
Much closed his mouth without finishing. Mentioning that was bad timing when Robin was still sore about Marian leaving with Gisborne. It had been her choice… No one forced her to go.
"Besides God knows what he'll do to her if he finds out she was a part of it."
"Well what about Allan?"
"No."
"But didn't he volunteer to help? And, if you remember, Robin, he helped me."
"And then he brought Gisborne straight to our camp. No, Much. Not Allan."
"Then what are you planning on doing?" Much demanded, finally incensed at Robin's unwillingness to cooperate with any of his suggestions. Although it was not an unusual occurrence to say the least.
Robin gave him half a smile and patted Much's shoulder, "We'll think of something."
Much harrumphed, "You mean you'll think of something and I'll blindly follow you." In his exuberance he had swung the spoon out of the pot and Robin had to duck to avoid getting struck in the face.
Robin was bent over, hanging onto his knees, nearly howling with laughter as he looked up into Much's shocked expression. His friend was staring at the spoon like it was possessed by some sort of devilry and had dared jump out of the stew on its own.
"You're right, Much," he said, attempting to recover some of his composure but failing. "That's exactly what we will do." How badly he had needed that release of tension. How glad he was that he had let go of his anger toward his friend.
Guy jerked backwards, dropping the sword in the hay where it made a light crunching sound. He stumbled but caught himself. Merciful God!
Marian wore her shock well. She knew from Guy's reaction that the sword hadn't been intended for her. She remained collected - she had lived through far worse - oddly enough also brought on by one of Guy's blades. "The guards said I would find you here."
Meanwhile Allan had jumped to his feet, "Oi! What the devil is goin' on?" He looked from Gisborne to Marian. "You trying to bleedin' kill her?"
Marian heard Guy growl in an attempt to silence Allan. Then she heard a moan. She turned in Allan's direction and saw - lying at his boots - a small figure.
Without another look at Guy, Marian approached the body and bent down to it. Lightly she touched an already purpling cheek. The child groaned and Marian pulled her hand away. Turning to Guy, she demanded an explanation.
Guy sneered, sure she had concluded the worst about him. He blew a gust of air between his teeth making a sharp T sound, "Not I."
"Who?"
"Spencer. Trying to prove himself to the Prince."
Guy took a stride in her direction and towered over her while she crouched next to the boy. He was too angry to speak further in his defense.
Fearing that the hostility would escalate more, Allan spoke up, "He stopped it, Marian."
Marian felt her throat grow tight. "Guy-." She had come to speak about what had happened between them, not to accuse him unjustly as she knew he supposed.
Guy made a disgusted noise, "Whatever you have to say can wait."
Anger and pain filled her as she turned back to the boy and gently stroked his hair. Marian held her hand out to Allan, palm up. He handed her the cloth and watched while she painstakingly wiped the blood from the child's face. "What's his name?"
The question was directed at no one in particular, so Allan took it upon himself to answer it, "Dunno."
Frustrated she turned back to Guy, who lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted response. Why should he bother with her questions?
She continued to properly clean the boy, "Send someone for the healer."
If not for the circumstances, Guy would have muttered his exasperation. That woman was the last person he wanted to see. "She doesn't see to people unless they pay," he said. "She's not one for charity."
"Then you'll pay," she said, giving all her focus to the hurt child.
Guy set his teeth and spoke to Allan, "Go get her." He couldn't argue with any of it - not when he had stood stoically by, nearly allowing Spencer to kill the boy.
Allan didn't object to being sent this time and with him gone, Guy resumed his position by the door. He continued to maintain an interest in what she was doing. He had to admit that she was a far better nurse than Allan proved to be…
Upon hearing someone approach a quarter of an hour later, Guy was determined not to make the same mistake twice. He did decide to take the precaution of withdrawing his dagger.
Sheriff Vaisey entered and looked from Marian to Guy. "Playing happy families? Isn't it enough to be pretend Papa to one? You're going to start collecting them now?"
From across the room, Guy could almost feel the hair on Marian's neck rising. For once, the Sheriff spoke the truth. "Marian was concerned about the boy. I stayed to make sure no ill befalls her."
Vaisey lifted his eyebrows, "Glad to see your wife is still among the living. I would have thought that by now she would be squirming in a pile of her own mucus."
Guy's fervent desire was that she keep her mouth closed. "She is feeling better today, Milord." He glared a warning at Marian when she sat back on her heels to protest the entire conversation.
"Excellent! Now that she is mostly done bearing any resemblance to livestock - I decided that it would be a treat for the two of you to come to the castle tomorrow evening. A little 'getting to know the Prince party' before the actual party."
At Marian's perplexed expression, Vaisey asked, "Why - hasn't your doting husband told you about the upcoming feast? Gisborne - shame shame." He looked Marian up and down, "Perhaps your mind was elsewhere."
Marian felt dirty. A small part of her wanted to turn away but she remained defiant - fixing him with an unflinching stare. That man would not cow her.
"So - what say you, Gisborne? Dinner with the Prince tomorrow? I am sure he would love to get better acquainted with your blushing bride and congratulate you on baby Winchester!"
Marian held back her revulsion at the Sheriff's last statement and hoped that Guy would make an excuse. Surely, regardless of his anger, he would at least do that for her. She caught his eye begging him to give the Sheriff their apologies.
Guy remained quiet for some time. She could see he was thinking, contemplating, considering. What - she did not know. It was a long minute before he slowly nodded his head in assent. "Of course, Milord."
Marian felt her spirits sink. Guy's face held no emotion whatsoever.
Vaisey smiled and turned to take his leave, "Don't play in the hay too long, Gisborne. I expect you back soon. And Gisborne, if you choose to do something that profoundly merciful again, I'll have you turned into the woman you're trying so hard to be."
Marian balled her hands into fists, and returned to her task. Her stomach felt rock hard, filled to the brim with her anger. First at Vaisey, who worked against her in every way, then at Guy. He easily could have dismissed the offer, but he had not. She wanted to know his reasons but found herself no longer privileged to them.
The little boy whimpered and Marian petted his head and whispered nonsensical things to him. Guy watched with a curious eye. He pictured her as a mother, tending to the baby she herself carried. He choked. A baby that he could not believe was his. The moment disappeared - his head was clearing again, unclouded by emotion.
When he spotted Allan approaching with the healer, Guy left. Let Allan look after them - he had planning to do. With the Sheriff's dinner invitation, he found a door opened to him and he wanted to get his foot inside before it closed. He went to Locksley, there was something he needed to make certain was still in his possession…
Gisborne entered his chamber at the castle, praying that what he sought would be here as it was not at Locksley. Discovering that the occupants of the barn had all relocated to said chamber - Guy raised his brows.
Marian's face showed an extreme amount of haughtiness and if it had not been for their recent falling out, he would have allowed himself to be amused. She spoke first, "You were nowhere to be found. And so when I was unable to get your approval - I took it upon myself to grant mine."
"You take a lot upon yourself," Guy said. He could not deny that while Spencer was on his bloodthirsty prowl, his prey was safer here. "Allan, you're needed." There would be no way to obtain what he had come for with Marian there. It would have to wait.
Reluctantly Allan left the bedside. Both Marian and the healer stayed behind, hovering over the little boy, who - to Guy - looked much smaller than he was, laying there. He seemed too pale, except for the dark colored marks staining his face. He wondered what unspeakable concoctions the herbalist would insist he drink. Liver of guard? Eye of virgin?
They walked in silence for a while before Allan spoke, "He hasn't stirred much."
Guy didn't say anything. What could he? He supposed he could comment on how it was another great feat of Spencer's - to have nearly killed a second child. So terrifying and monstrous they were that it took such bravery to slay them. Guy shook his head, he wouldn't say those things. There was no point to be made by them and nothing to be gained. He was not seeking Allan's agreement.
Guy found the Sheriff hunched over his table admiring the replica of England, probably gloating over Sussex. He remembered something the Sheriff had told him in the first days after Winchester had taken Marian - after Guy let him. 'Stop your sniveling, Gisborne,' the Sheriff had said, 'I lost something to Winchester too - far more important than your flighty little leper. I LOST SUSSEX!" He had screamed the last part, a phrase he had been carrying on about for days, into Guy's face. His headache had worsened.
That was in the past and nothing turned out how he had expected it to. Not even himself. Guy cleared his throat and waited. The torches brightly flickered, giving off enough light to see the center of the room. The Sheriff made no move to raise his head, "What is it Gisborne?"
He inhaled, "I request that Allan accompany me to dinner tomorrow."
"Changing tastes, Gisborne? Surely there are better samples than that."
Guy shuddered, and could tell Allan wanted to defend himself. He elbowed Allan in the ribcage, before continuing. "As protection for Marian."
"Protection from whom?" He still didn't bother to look up.
"I do not trust Spencer, Milord."
"That's a shame really," said a voice from the doorway. "I thought we were in common cause, Gisborne?"
Guy turned in the direction Spencer approached from, "Well it seems to me that you find enjoyment in harming things that are harmless." He was not about to inform him that Marian was more than capable of harming him.
"Only when it is required. You can't tell me, Gisborne, that you have never derived pleasure from a less than wholesome task?"
Guy remained silent. He could not contradict him but the shame that seemed to nip at his heels bothered him. God forbid the Sheriff find out what he felt.
Spencer continued speaking while he advanced, "My father always believed that the law was something that had to be maintained."
Guy scoffed, "What was the boy doing? Committing treason against the crown?" How ridiculous his words sounded to his own ears when they were doing that very thing.
"No. But the law makes provision to receive redressing. He dishonored me and I dealt with it on my own."
"If your father found the law to be so precious, wouldn't he be displeased that you didn't seek a higher authority first?" Guy hoped that the Sheriff would take offence to Spencer's deeds when portrayed in such a light and see them as a direct insult to his power.
"Had the Sheriff not approved of my actions he would have said. As it is - my father also held that the law could be used to remind the people of their place. At times a public beating - or even an impromptu hanging - can have the desired effect."
The boy's name was Morgan. He was an orphan, his mother died in childbirth and his father hung for poaching. He had one older brother who was in the Holy Land fighting for the King alongside his master.
Marian had remained by the young boy's side until he was resting more peacefully. She felt furious each time she looked at him. What right did Spencer have to do this to another human being?
She couldn't help but think that while Guy had stopped this, he wouldn't stop the murder of the King's son. It was possible that Robin might not be able to prevent it either. With all his talk of plans, sometimes they were as undependable as a weak bow. More than once he had nearly been killed. His response to that statement would be to draw attention to the word nearly.
Now that the Prince had seen sport, who knew how much longer he would wait. Marian feared that he would demand it at the feast the Sheriff spoke of or worse - tomorrow at dinner. There wasn't much time and what little remained needed put to good use. Marian made a choice.
Guy watched Marian ride off. Only the Lord knew how much he wanted to follow her and see if she snuck off to see her lover. He didn't try to repress his suspicions; he knew they would never go away. He could never trust her. Wasn't that what a marriage was about? Trust? Not trysts. He hoped he could one day carve that with his bare hands into the slab of wood over Hood's grave.
He let Spencer's victim stay in his room. It wasn't as if he needed to sleep there. Guy did not intend to sleep at all that night. He had to think about his plan and he didn't trust Spencer not to finish what he had started. He owed the lad that at least.
Earlier he had sent Allan down with some decent bread for Philip. Guy did not have the gall to face him right now, not after the beating of the stable boy. Not when Philip's words from what seemed like an eternity ago would leap out at him. Liar.
A year ago he wouldn't have given any of this a backwards glance. He would have said it was not his problem anymore; it was Spencer's. Though that should provide some sliver of relief, it failed in that regard. In fact, it made it that much worse.
"Oi, when can we go home?" Allan said from behind. He looked in the same direction, but Guy doubted that he saw the same things he did.
"We're not," Guy never turned away from Marian's disappearing figure.
"What'daya mean 'we're not?'"
"We're staying here tonight. I need to think without any unnecessary distractions."
"Marian's a distraction?"
"She always has been."
"Wait - now you're soundin' like the Sheriff."
"Maybe he's right."
"You can't mean that."
Guy knew he didn't but would not admit that to Allan, "When I want your counsel I'll ask for it."
Guy left Allan staring at an empty landscape and soon found himself outside his chamber. He entered; the young boy was in the middle of the bed with the blanket pulled to his chin. He couldn't be that much older than Philip…
Guy shut the door and approached the bed. At the sound of the door closing, the lad woke up and immediately flinched into the paillasse. Guy could not blame him. It wasn't as though he had extended the hand of friendship to him. He had been no kinder than Sir Spencer.
"What did you do to Spencer?"
The boy, looked down ashamed, "I don't know, Sir."
"Surely he gave you a reason?"
"He told them I had been insolent. But I swear I wasn't - I don't even know what that means. I swear on my mother's grave, Sir!"
Guy believed him. Nothing could make Guy think that this nervous child had been disrespectful to Spencer. He was scared of his own shadow and more frightened of Guy's. Now Philip on the other hand - Guy could believe. However, this child appeared to be the complete opposite of Philip.
He didn't reply before stepping away from the bed. Guy walked over to his desk, and opening a drawer, thanked providence when he pulled out a piece of cloth. Crushing it tightly in his hand, he quit the room. His plan might have a chance after all.
The moonlight guided her steps as she tied the mask at the back of her head and pulled the material over her mouth. Lastly, she hid her hair with her hood and silently opened the door. She didn't make a sound when she slipped down the stairs, nor when she stepped out into the night. She made her way to the stable at Locksley where the air was musty and thick. All the same, the smell was refreshing, it made her feel free. Marian readied her horse and galloped to Nottingham.
She felt no regret in her task. She would have, had Guy returned home. Being as how he hadn't - or sent a message telling her where he was - she didn't feel remorse for what she was about to do. If he did not feel responsible to account for his whereabouts then neither did she. Besides he would never know - until it was too late that is.
A small piece of her kept begging that she turn back, not for her own sake, but for that of her unborn baby. If something happened to her - no nothing was going to happen. There was another life at stake - Philip. A life the Prince wanted snuffed out like an unneeded candle. Marian could not take a chance that the Prince would wait. Besides, there was no doubt in her mind that she could take care of herself if trouble arose.
She intended to sneak inside the castle and down to the dungeon, free the boy and take him to Robin where he would be safe. Maybe Robin and his men would be able to get in, but the Night Watchman would certainly have no trouble evading the guards. Sometimes there was not power in numbers after all.
The castle was damp and Marian felt like the only living soul creeping through the halls. Her cloak flowed out around her when she took several quick, fast strides. She knew that she was well ahead of the guards - she had made certain of that, having watched them for some time before her entrance through the narrow window. A window she had made certain was unlatched before she had taken her leave of Guy. Drawing a long breath, she continued; the dungeon was still too far away for her liking.
Spencer could not sleep, his mind refused to quiet down. Everything was going as it should but he was anxious to fulfill the rest of his scheme. Fortunately, the Prince had granted him his wish - suggested it even. Once he earned and managed to retain the Prince's partiality, Gisborne would be easy to discredit.
It was these thoughts that nearly distracted Spencer from the shadow that passed over his door. Spencer knew the shifts of the guards better than his own knuckles, and they should not be there at this time. Noiselessly he rose out of bed, pulled his pants over his braies and grabbed the loose shirt that he had draped over his chair. He tugged it on as he approached the door, combing a hand through his long hair. He removed his dagger from its sheath and lastly snatched up his boots.
There were several possibilities as to whom he would encounter. And Sir Spencer dearly hoped that the Sheriff was not one for sleepwalking… Sheriff Vaisey made him grossly uncomfortable and while he perfectly repressed the feelings of revulsion, he didn't want to place himself in any undesirable situations.
Easing the door open, Spencer stuck his head out and stopped dead. He had heard of this apparition. This Night Watchman. He worked with Robin Hood. He could just imagine how pleased the Sheriff would be to know the identity of this masked devil. That fact alone would go in his favor. Spencer smirked in pleasure - this would be good.
Common sense would dictate that he should call for the backup of the castle guards incase trouble arose. Alas - Spencer seemed oblivious of that particular faculty at this moment. He refused to let them steal the glory from him. How much better it would look if he single-handedly apprehended one of the Sheriff's most sought after outlaws. "You," he said with a low voice. "The Sheriff is going to be pleased to meet you."
He expected him to run, what Spencer did not predict was for the Night Watchman to stand his ground. Nor did he anticipate that the Night Watchman would make the first attack.
Spencer's head snapped to the side and he tasted his own blood. He pulled backwards as another kick came towards his head. It missed and he leapt away to give himself a chance to recover.
He swung his dagger out wildly. The Night Watchman jumped nimbly to avoid it and Spencer cursed his misfortune. He thought fast, remembering the lessons his father had required. He aimed his blade for the legs. With his enemy distracted, Spencer lashed his arm out, grabbing tight hold of adversary's cloak. He pulled and watched the Night Watchman lose his footing. His quarry landed flat on his back with a loud thwack, cracking his head on the stone in the process. Spencer watched him struggle for the air unexpectedly forced from his lungs. It gave him a cruel sense of enjoyment watching him struggle.
He was far lighter than Spencer had expected. There was not enough weight for a full-grown man, a wiry youth maybe? Sir Spencer seized his foe's boot and dragged him forward. He dropped down so he was sitting on the masked man's thighs, sufficiently pinning him to the ground.
Nails suddenly scratched his right cheek, leaving red lines across his already scraped flesh. He snarled and spit into the Night Watchman's face, restraining his enemy's hands above his head. Again, he was almost positive that he was not dealing with an adult male…
Spencer's free hand traveled up to the face of his captive. Though masked and covered with cloth - that too did not seem right. No matter - he would find out what he was dealing with soon enough. He leaned further over and his fingers grazed the edge of the mask. "Let's see who you are."
Pride overcame him. Spencer smiled, oh how pleased the Sheriff would be! Bringing in the Night Watchman unaided, would drastically increase his standing.
He first pulled down the cloth that covered the Nightwatch Man's mouth and his fingers took note. There was no trace of beard. Spencer's suspicions continued to grow. Either this lad was quite young or… Spencer looked down and although the leather of the vest hid some of it, he could tell there was a distinct difference in the way his prisoner's chest rose compared to that of his own. Spencer's eyes widened. It was a woman!
Without further hesitation, Spencer reached up to pull the mask off. He was never able to see the face. There was a flash of movement in front of him and his vision went white as he careened sideways.
Marian's head throbbed. Not only had she hit the back of it when Spencer knocked her down, but she had slammed it into his nose just a moment ago. Disentangling herself from Spencer, she scrabbled to her feet, her breath coming in heavy short waves; she was shaking. He was only temporarily stunned and she needed to run. Dear lord if he had seen her! She felt she might vomit right there but there was no time, she had to move.
Hastily she made her way through the castle. There was no way that she could get to the dungeon, that would be the first place they looked. She made her way to the kitchens and crept into the larder. The cool of the room felt refreshing and she slid to the floor.
Marian could make out the contents of the room by the dim light coming from the small window. Several shelves lined the walls and a grouping of large and small hooks dangled from the ceiling, the ends of which held the carcasses of deer, chicken, and pigs. Marian worried that she would soon be in the same condition as they were.
Hidden for a moment, brief as it might be, Marian found time for a troubling matter. Had she hurt the baby? She said a swift prayer to the mother of Christ. Surely, she would understand the terror that she felt at this moment. She curled in on herself but refused to cry - not now, not when they could hear her. What would Guy say if she lost the baby? Would he care? It was then that she heard the yelling.
Blood ran in two streams from Spencer's nose. Dare he risk embarrassment and declare the Night Watchman's presence? Allowing him - nay her - to be on the loose would risk his plan if Philip was rescued. He ran his sleeve across the blood and suppress his pride for his greater good. "The Night Watchman is in the castle!" That started it. The ensuing commotion spread quickly and soon those words were echoing throughout every hall, waking every soul.
Allan ran in the direction of the great hall, the last place he had seen Guy. He was relieved when he spotted him already out the door and making his way towards the origin of the shouts. Allan caught up with him, "You heard?"
Guy didn't answer him, "Go that way and see if you can find her." His words, urgent as they were, were low enough that only Allan could hear them over the noise.
Guy of Gisborne felt panicked. How could she have been so foolish? He hated to admit it but he was frightened. Not for himself and the ramifications her thoughtlessness would bring on him but frightened for her. Wasn't it just that morning that Prince John had questioned her loyalty? That notwithstanding, it wouldn't matter if the Prince trusted her more than he did his own mother. If she were caught as the Night Watchman - she would hang.
He watched the guards swarm up and down the hallway. He pulled fitfully at his jacket collar and hoped that she was out of the castle already. He entered several chambers in his continuing search. That is when he opened the heavy door to the larder.
While Guy was looking to his left he saw her, pressed close to the door, a meat hook held tightly in her hand. He knew if he had been any other that he might have been dead by now. He mouthed the word, stay, and closed the door just as the he heard the Sheriff yelling at the top of his lungs. It was a long drawn out sound that made his ears ache, "What is going on!"
Spencer responded to the question, "The Night Watchman is here."
"The Night Watchman?" came another shout from Vaisey, who pivoted around to take in the entire scene. "What happened to you?"
Spencer licked his lips, "I had an altercation with him, my lord." Her! He cursed himself, her! He had to tell the Sheriff that morsel of information!
"And you let him escape?"
Spencer's ears rang and his hackles stood on end while the Sheriff continued ranting. "You worthless, useless, pathetic-" Spencer stopped listening. His thoughts seemed to roar inside his head. The only thing that he had to offer would lose him his reputation. To be bested by a woman - a woman - he would never live it down. He decided to save what little honor he had left and keep his new found information to himself.
The Sheriff pushed his face so close to Spencer's that he was forced to lean backwards in an attempt to get away and lost his balance. The Sheriff followed him down, "Did you call the guards for help?"
"No I -"
"You let him get away because your hubris was bigger than your head!"
Guy remained a stiff observer while he shielded the larder the best he could. A guard started to reach behind Guy and he positioned himself more firmly in front of the door, "I have already looked inside. There is no need to look again."
The Sheriff bellowed for another quarter of an hour and Guy was unsure he could take much more. Silently he begged for them to be gone. When search of the immediate area turned up nothing the Sheriff stomped past Spencer and, after clouting him in the head, continued down the hall, "Don't disturb me unless you fools find something! Double the guards on the boy! I expect you to look till sunup." He stopped and turned around and spoke to Spencer once more, "Don't think that the Prince wont here of this little incident."
Spencer was infuriated at himself for not calling for assistance, and at the Sheriff for being angry enough to threaten his place in Prince John's favor. Spencer, once again proving that humility was not among his list of attributes, set off alone to overtake the creature who had disgraced his name. Once he found her - dear God - once he found her, she would be begging for the torments of hell to save herself from his wrath.
Guy stepped inside the larder and grabbed Marian by the shoulders. Holding her at arms length, he calmed himself before rage overcame him. His words came from between gritted teeth, "What were you doing?"
In the darkness of the room, he couldn't see her fear and his fingers tightened around her upper arms. He turned to the door and then once more to her, "What if they had found you?" Still no response, not a gasp, not a sob - nothing. He towered over her and felt his body tremble, he told himself it was in anger.
Guy opened the door just a slit and looked out, everything appeared to be clear. Taking her hand, he dashed from the larder. The guards were still hunting, he had to hurry. They were halfway to his chambers when he heard someone coming. He pushed Marian into a closed doorway and pressed himself against her.
Guy's breath tickled Marian's hair, while he pushed her into the wall. "Stay here," he whispered, easing away. She saw him withdraw his curved dagger and coil his fingers around it. The footsteps turned off, Guy murmured a prayer and motioned for Marian to follow him.
Opening the door to his room, Guy barked at the child, "Close your eyes!" The bustle of the castle had woken the lad up some time ago and he snapped his lids closed at Guy's command.
Guy ushered Marian inside and soundlessly shut the door. He approached the bed and leaned down, "Keep your eyes shut and speak of this to no one. You'll regret it if you do." The boy nodded and Guy wondered if he would feel the pangs of remorse later on. "Not a word," he said in the direction of Marian.
How was he going to get her out? It hit him that he was not. He didn't have to. All he had to do was wait for Allan to come find him.
They remained in silence for the better part of an hour. When Allan did rap against the door, Guy stepped outside. "I can't find her Giz. I've looked everywhere."
Guy scowled severely at the slaughtering of his name, "I have her."
Allan felt a wave of relief rush over him, "She alright?"
"She's fine. Ride to Locksley - get her clothes. She remained here. All night - do you understand?"
Allan nodded his comprehension and Guy waved him off, "Be quick."
As Allan entered the stable, he found he had been followed. Spencer was well aware of Allan's past with Robin Hood and the appearance of the Night Watchman aroused his suspicions.
"What are you doing?"
"Runnin' an errand for Sir Guy," was the casual response. "'E needs somthin' from Locksley."
"In the middle of the night. I'm to believe that? How do I know this has nothing to do with the Night Watchman?"
Allan looked down his frame, gesturing to himself with his open palms, "Do I look like the Night Watchman?" He meant his question to indicate his attire but the confliction that seemed to envelop Spencer gave Allan the hint that he knew something he should not.
"No. You don't."
"Well then - what's this 'bout?"
"Why shouldn't I believe that you are helping him in someway?"
"You want me to get Sir Guy down 'ere?" Allan wet his lips, hoping that Spencer would not insist on that.
Spencer's countenance darkened further while he weighed the consequences. Finally he spoke, "That won't be necessary." He didn't want Vaisey to find out he had questioned Sir Guy.
Allan felt as if he was sweating blood when he mounted his horse and he failed to feel a sense of calm until he reached the manor house. Grateful that the door was unlocked, Allan entered the master bedroom and stared blankly around. What the devil was he supposed to bring? What did women wear? Well - not as obvious as that. He knew what they wore but…
He made his way over to the chest in the room and eased the lid open. Womanly looking clothes greeted him. He pulled out a long dress, tossing it over his shoulder. Stockings came next and then, closing his eyes in what would appear to be pain, he removed the undergarments. He hoped Marian wouldn't hold this against him…
Guy remained by the door, he wondered if the child had gone to sleep as he instructed. He let a wondering eye fall on him to see if he was following orders. He was not. The breathing was off, Guy could easily tell. So silence prevailed. Guy would not risk letting her speak. The less the boy knew the better.
His anger blazed at Marian, mute as it might be. He could not understand her stupidity. Did she want the Sheriff to find out everything? She not only put herself and Hood's precious child at risk - she had put him in danger as well.
Should the Sheriff discover her secret, it would come down on his head also. Their marriage made her his responsibility. It would go far worse for him if they discovered her now, hiding in his bedchamber, with him as guard. He could just feel the noose slide around his neck. Something he had sworn he would never experience again.
Guy's pulse came quicker when a knock sounded against the wooden door. "What?" Allan's voice greeted him and Guy undid the lock. He took the coarse, brown, sack from Allan's outstretched hand. Then, without any discussion or consultation, Guy closed the door before Allan had the chance to speak a word.
When she had dressed, Guy stuffed the discarded clothes into the empty bag and took them out to Allan. "Burn these," and once again he shut the door. He could tell his command upset her greatly, he did not care.
"You'll have to stay here tonight. The boy can sleep on the floor." He watched her scowl and when she opened her mouth to speak, he hushed her by raising his hand. "You don't like that?" He pulled the top blanket off the bed and tossed it at her, "That's the best I can do."
Guy turned to the door and felt the wadded up material hit his back. He growled while she crossed her arms and glared defiantly at him. He raised his eyebrows and picked the blanket up. "Fine. Have it your way."
When dawn finally broke, Guy was more than grateful. He was certain that no one had gotten any rest. He stood up from where he reclined against the door and stretched. It was not his strategy he had spent the night contemplating. All he managed to ponder over was her.
She hadn't shown the smallest shred of gratitude. That infuriated him but he had to question himself - what had he expected her to do? Throw herself at him? No - that would have been ill-timed. He wondered what he would have done had that occurred? He had no answer but he probably would have let things go further than he would have liked. "You need to get home," he said, extending a hand down to help her to her feet. Surprisingly she took it willingly.
Though Guy did not trust it, he was not opposed to the relief that coursed over him when they arrived at the stable without incident. Mayhap he wouldn't need to provide the Sheriff with excuses for her presence after all. Guy shook his head, "Didn't you worry that someone would recognize the horse?"
"The stable boy was beaten within a fraction of his life. I didn't feel that there would be anyone here to worry about it."
She made a point, not one that he would agree to. "Careless."
"I did not intend to stay all night," Marian said, adjusting the saddle.
"Your actions were once again, ill planned."
"By your standards."
"My standards keep me alive."
"You never act from the heart. Everything you do is coldly deliberate."
Guy looked down to the straw on the floor, "Not when it comes to you."
Marian didn't know what to say to him. She urged the horse forward and in the direction of home. She wiped her sleeve across her eyes when she felt he wouldn't see. He had been right. She looked back at him, expecting him to have turned away. However, their eyes met and her breast tightened in guilt. He was right.
Guy stood near the Sheriff while he ate, "Milord, have you considered my request?"
Vaisey popped a morsel into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully on it. "Which was?"
"That Allan attend Marian tonight."
"Is it really necessary? To have him at the table will disrupt things for Prince John. Which will disrupt things for me."
"Milord, in light of the animosity between Sir Spencer and myself, having Allan there would put my mind at ease."
"Yes. Well - it is just a matter of your peace being worth more than mine, Gisborne." He took another bite, "I'll think on it." Vaisey stopped chewing for a moment, "This animosity that you speak of, could it have something to do with the fact that your little leper is twisting you senses? You didn't step in to allow that stable rat to continue loving the Prince, now did you? A clue: No. Why did you save that boy, Gisborne? And don't say that," the Sheriff put on a simpering, mocking voice, "'It was the right thing to do."
Guy was quiet. He chose to answer the first part of the question, "I do not believe that Marian's presence or lack thereof would make any difference on how I view Spencer."
"So you claim. I think you're resentful. You've grown soft. Weak. Spencer possesses what you don't anymore. And do you know why? That leper has tainted you. Spread her morality around, corrupted you by her touch - as lepers so often do."
Guy stood completely still, how he hated it when he used that word! He dug the soles of his boots into the floor; his jaw felt tight.
While the Sheriff had never spoken on the subject and Guy hadn't offered any information, he wondered just how much the man knew of his childhood. If the Sheriff said half the things he did just to drive the knife into Guy's heart even more, Vaisey would never say and Guy would never ask.
"She is also the reason you saved that boy." No question, just a cold statement. "You couldn't face her if you let him die. Take care, Gisborne. Spencer is biding his time. I know it. He knows it. And, I daresay, you know it." He took a drink, savoring the rich flavor of the wine on his tongue. "You run to me though, like a chick to the wings of a hen. Begging, chirping for my support. There's hope for you yet, Gisborne. Now - don't get your feathers ruffled up, I suppose your man's presence will do. But remember, a favor for a favor."
When the Sheriff smiled, Guy felt the heat drain from his body. He nodded, resigned. He could deal with the Sheriff's favor later. For now he needed Allan there for Marian's sake, to protect her when he could not.
Philip's knees were pulled to his chest, his head leaning against the wall behind him. He wondered how the stable lad was faring. In spite of being afforded the luxury of a more privileged life, he was still the natural son of a King, and at this moment in a dungeon awaiting death. No one was beneath his notice right now.
His uncle sullied everything he came near; just thinking of him upset his stomach. The superciliousness of the man was enough to make him gag. Philip knew that his uncle had looked down his nose at him for as long as he could remember. He had taken it in stride, paying no heed to what he could not change. He had been above being offended.
He had contemplated several things at great length and had come to a definite conclusion of at least one of them. Some youths confronted with this predicament would have wished that the past be changed. That they would have groveled and endeared themselves to the Prince. Perhaps the outcome would be less permanent.
Philip did not desire that. No - he determined that he would have treated his uncle the same way whether or not he had been aware of his future fate. The what ifs were superfluous to his decisions now. Not that one could make many, if any, decisions in the dilemma that he was facing. Philip was resolute in maintaining as much of his self-respect as possible, before his uncle and his unsavory party or Sir Guy and Allan.
The light changed; the door at the top of the stairs opened. Philip suspected Allan or possibly Sir Guy. He did his best not to look bewildered or frightened when Spencer loomed in front of the bars. Bars - Philip felt grateful for the first time since he found himself behind them. Spencer stared and Philip stared back, unmoved. It could be said that both possessed a great deal of pride, but in two very different forms. Philip's pride was knowledge of his own self worth, whereas Spencer's was a haughty self-importance.
"You know you're going to die," Spencer's words were flat as he looked at the child. He derived gratification in making someone else feel as miserable as he did at this time.
Philip's words were just as emotionless, "Everyone dies at one time or another. How do you know I won't outlive you?"
Spencer grabbed the bars and leaned forward, his voice a harsh whisper, "Because I'm the one that intends to kill you."
Spencer smiled then; Philip had grown to hate those vial grins. They reminded him of a cat toying with a mouse, knowing all along that it is going to kill its prey but letting it think that there is some chance of escape. "It is going to be slow. I've been perfecting the art for years. Your Uncle - your Uncle, he seems to like my work. The demonstration I gave to him is nothing compared to what you'll face." He smiled once more, "Enjoy your thoughts - I'll leave you to them."
As Philip watched Spencer leave, he struggled to hold onto the hope that Robin of Locksley would come to his aid - a hope that with each passing hour was growing dimmer.
Guy already had his jacket half off when he entered the bedroom. Marian, already dressed for dinner, remained seated on the mattress. Guy peeled off his undershirt, tossing it onto the bed. He put on a clean shirt and replaced his jacket a moment later. It was then that he noticed Marian blushed. Guy could not help himself; he smirked.
Standing in front of her, he placed on arm on either side of her, "Are you ready to leave?" When she looked up at him, he remembered the betrayals he had momentarily forgotten. He pulled away and went to the door. "I'll have the carriage readied. I don't wish to be late," he spoke harshly but didn't regret it.
When she did join him in the carriage, Guy made sure to check his thoughts when they drifted to how enticing she looked. He refused to permit those feelings. Not now. Not after what she had done. Not while she carried Hood's child. "Where is Edward?"
"He is unwell. He has kept to his bed today. After the dampness of the dungeons I do not wish to further subject him to the night air."
Guy laughed in dark amusement, "Oh - but the pitiable shelter in Sherwood - that was acceptable?"
"He is not in fear of his life tonight."
"I don't share your confidence."
He was sure that at his words, she would suspect him of some devious, murderous scheme. She always doubted him, always distrusted him. Nothing he did pleased her. Guy set his teeth before clarifying, "The Prince will find his lack of presence an effrontery. As former Sheriff he should be gracing him with innumerable bows and kissing his boots." Her silence made him angrier but in truth he was only angry with himself for wanting her still, "You better pray that he is in good temper tonight." There was nothing further to add and quiet overshadowed them like a suffocating cloth.
Marian fixed her gaze past Guy's head. He felt offended. She was the one who had betrayed him countless times in unthinkable ways and still she acted above him. As if he was the one who had wounded her!
The ride was uneven and more than once, he found himself inadvertently touching her, knee to knee. He would move his leg as soon as he noticed. Guy drew his arms over his stomach, and kept focused on the road. He tried to sort through his tangle of emotions but found them so snarled together that he gave up. What was the point? If he could excuse her infidelity, which he could not, he would never be able to trust her again. Each day he would leave for the castle and wonder if Hood was in her bed. It would be better never to expect anything from her - then he would never be disappointed.
Marian felt tortured. The many things that they could have done differently haunted her. There was little doubt that for as long as she lived, she would regret the past few months and her part in them.
This carriage ride played with her. The time she spent in Winchester's unholy company in similar quarters sprang to mind. How many times had she been knocked against him when a rut in the road jostled the carriage? How often had she wished for Robin to come? How different and attentive Guy had been after her rescue? How much she wanted him to act like that now…
It was not to be. Guy was too far gone from her. She dreaded the time when either he was in heaven or in hell and still thought badly of her. She had charged him with cold deliberation in all his actions. He had cleared himself of those charges. Wherever she was concerned, he always seemed to leave caution behind. He had placed her above his own wellbeing and before the Sheriff's orders. To a cold, deliberate man those acts would seem foolish.
Not that Guy was without fault. He had plenty of those. So many wrongs committed. A trail of destruction lay behind him and she often wondered if he had ever stopped to consider it. He was not selfless by any means. He was proud and determined to have his own way at cost to others. However, if she compared him to the Sheriff, Spencer, or Prince John, there was more potential for goodness in Guy than in all three of them. Were circumstances vastly different, would he have joined forces with Robin? Was considering that so unthinkable? As it was, all the angels in heaven could try to bring that about and each one would fail.
Marian wondered if she could still inspire him to goodness. If there was any chance of that she had to act, for the clean slate she had so counted on was already smudging. She had gone to the castle yesterday with the intention of speaking to him and hoped that he would consent to listen to her. That had ended at Spencer's hand.
There was something she could do to amend at least one thing between them. She could admit that she was wrong in her allegation that morning. She firmed her resolve, "I owe you an apology." I love you.
Guy looked at her through the corners of his eyes and waited for her to continue. Marian bit her bottom lip and went on, "For what I said this morning. I was wrong." Please believe me.
Guy didn't say a word just let his attention return to the window, but his arms loosened from where they hugged his middle.
Allan's mouth was watering. The kitchens were overflowing with all manner of delightful smells and the parade of dishes steadily marching to the elongated table was glorious to behold. Venison, chicken, and Much's favorite - pork, greeted exaggeratedly happy guests almost as soon as they walked in. Cakes beamed at him as he walked up one side of the table and down the other. They were simply begging for his touch.
His eyes darted from side to side - no one was paying attention, he was neither a servant nor regally adorned. Slowly he stretched his hand forward and using his middle three fingers, he ran them almost caressingly down the side of one of the cakes, scooping up a considerable portion of icing. As his hand crept toward his mouth, never before could Allan remember being so hungry. That was when he recalled where most of this delectable feast would have come from. He stared at his fingers dejectedly; it was the principle of the matter. Disgustedly he wiped the icing clumsily against the cake leaving what he had hoped would be a sweet indulgence, lumped in a sad pile on the top of the dessert.
As he was wiping his hands against themselves, he felt a presence behind him. He stiffened, craned his head, and found himself face to face with Spencer. Allan almost groaned - the evening just kept declining.
"What are you doing here?"
Allan grinned cheekily, "I'm the life of the party."
Sir Guy interrupted before things could go further, "Allan! You're needed over here."
Shooting Spencer a pert look, Allan skirted around guests and made his way over to Guy who stationed him not ten paces behind Marian's chair. "Don't antagonize him. Don't even speak with him. Not now."
"So you're sayin' not to throw my pebbles before swine?"
Guy rubbed the bridge of his nose, he felt a headache coming on. "Sometimes you don't even have pebbles." He stepped away from Allan and went to the table. "Watch her," he said.
"See - if you didn't love 'er you wouldn't be so worried 'bout her."
Guy grimaced hoping Marian didn't hear Allan's unchecked words and as would be expected of him, assisted her into her chair before taking his place beside her. He felt as if each breath he took was too shallow. His boot tapped impatiently on the ground. What if this didn't work? There would be no other opportunity for him if he waited. At least not before it was too late.
He worried that his decision had been too hasty - as his marriage with Marian had proved to be. After this was set into motion there would be no going back. How he wished that things could return to how they had been. It would be so much easier not to give a damn about anyone.
Over the course of the meal Guy didn't speak while on the other hand the Prince prattle endlessly about nonsensical things. Prince John spoke with Spencer too, a lengthy conversation. Apparently the Sheriff had forgiven Spencer for his blunder, or he was waiting to tell the Prince when it would embarrass the knight the most.
He watched Marian frown when she heard the name 'Philip' said too loudly. At this moment, he could not condemn her for telling Hood. What difference did that make now? It was the lie that followed. Lies. That was a minor sin compared to the baby. He had convinced himself that he could have overlooked Winchester's but he was sure he could not excuse Hood's child.
Once again, he troubled himself to see if there was any other way this could be done. Once again, he sighed to himself when the answer was a resounding no. Though that was the case - he still felt everything from anxiety to loathing each and every time he considered what he was about to do. It could not be helped. He had to continue no matter the consequences. Consequences that he desired to only confront him.
A conversation he overheard that transpired between the Prince and the Sheriff bolstered his resolve. The first part of the discussion concerned the upcoming feast due to occur a week from today. Looking around at the meal and the guests, he couldn't see what the difference would be. He realized that these were only the local nobles and the expansive feast would double if not triple in size. Of course, that would only provide more of a distraction…
It was after a tedious discussion of the food that the dialog turned toward the entertainment for the evening. Guy's shoulders arched back while he listened. Nothing was said outright but the insinuations were more than obvious.
He wondered how the Prince would justify the murder of his nephew to all of his guests. Would they condone it? He knew that many would fear reprisal and that is what would keep them silent. Some of them might approve. He knew the Black Knights would. Or in his case - should.
He felt as if he were throwing everything that he had strived for to the wind. Casting it aside like a broken blade. He was sacrificing everything he had believed in. Betray the Sheriff or the boy who called him a liar. One betrayal, he decided would be far worse than the other.
The Sheriff, God forbid if he discovered his treachery, would accuse him of allowing Marian to influence him. On that account, he would be wrong. For Marian's opinion was no longer relevant to him. Her desire for him to exercise his humanity may have played a role in his behavior previously but no longer. Now he acted of his own accord. It struck him that Marian would be proud of his initiative. He forced the sentiment down his throat. He would show her what she had lost.
Guy of Gisborne stood and, for what he considered show, laid a hand on Marian's shoulder when she looked up at him. Her eyes questioned his and unconsciously he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He gestured with an almost unperceivable nod of his head in Marian's direction before he began his departure. Allan signaled the affirmation of his part.
Marian watched as he left and Guy felt his innards tighten in response. A part of him, that Allan had clearly pointed out, still longed for her.
Calmly Guy walked out of the spacious room. Past the Sheriff. Past the Prince. Past Spencer. If anyone took note, no one reacted. His shirt clung to him; he hadn't realized that he had been sweating. The further he got from the meal, the less the smells bothered his aggravated stomach. This was it, the climax of the night, and maybe his entire life…
Because of Spencer getting up, slowly walking around the table and lingering near Marian, Allan was practically standing over top of her. Not ten minutes into Guy's absence - to who knew where - and he already had to worry. The proximity of the tantalizing dishes made Allan salivate all over again and he had to make an effort not to drench Marian's head.
Spencer retook his seat but continued to watch Lady Gisborne. He broke off a piece of bread and examined it. He touched the scratch marks running down his cheek. He studied Gisborne's wife again and wondered all the more so when he recalled the unexplained presence of her horse. Things were falling into place. His father would be proud with his reasoning. Something he seldom was.
Robin noticed that Much didn't object when he made his way to Locksley. Much rambled on about everything that came to mind while his companion waked in silence. Robin did not complain. He had come too close to loosing him. He knew, and hated to admit it - that if Allan had not come to Much's aid, his friend might be dead. Robin didn't think he could have lived with that outcome. Especially when he was holding onto the resentment he had let build up. Let Much talk - he would not stop him. This time at least…
It was out of their way to go to Locksley, particularly with the deer that they carried. They had tied the deer's legs to a long limb and each held an end of the branch. Robin had brought the animal down and was looking forward to something besides squirrel. Much knew that he was helping him hunt as an excuse to check on Marian but he didn't mind. He knew Robin. But as long as he had a captive audience, he was going to make the most of it…
Dusk was slipping by and Much focused on watching where he placed his feet. He wished they had started out earlier but he supposed Robin didn't want to get too close to Locksley while it was light. Adding to that reasoning, Robin had been mulling over bits and pieces of plans nearly all day. He claimed he had something in the works but that didn't restrain Much's worry. What Robin considered a plan and what Much considered a plan tended to be two very different things.
It was when they approached the edge of the forest that Robin dropped his end of the deer. His mouth went dry while his hands felt slick. Robin broke into a run, leaving Much standing there, still holding his part of the branch.
Without thinking, Robin sprinted across open space to get to the manor house. His scarf lay dead from the window. The only way she would risk asking him to come so soon was if something terrible had occurred. Robin could not feel his heart beat anymore.
All he could think about was what could have happened impelling Marian to signal him. What had Gisborne done? Robin barely noticed that Much had joined him and though he saw his friend's mouth moving in warning, Robin's ears were drumming and he couldn't hear him. Or chose not to. Was that where his heart had gone? He wondered to himself. Had it jumped to his ears?
His hands were shaking when he started up the trellis. His legs had the consistency of pottage. As he climbed further, he gave attention to what he would do once he got to her. First, he would not waste time in getting her safely to camp. Second, he wouldn't hesitate to storm the castle and find Gisborne. The details of what he would do when he found him were cloudy and he had no notion of getting away with his life. No matter - Gisborne would not be alive to see it.
He pulled himself up into her room, tearing his sleeve on the end of the trellis in his haste. He struggled to adjust his vision but not a soul was in sight. Everything appeared to be in order; the furniture adorned their proper places. Regardless of the night, he could make out no sign of struggle. Her body was not bleeding on the floor nor was she lying beaten. Robin's chest hurt when he called her name, "Marian!"
A creak came from near the door in a dark, desolate corner. It caught Robin's attention and he narrowed his eyes to see better in the lightless room. Another creak and a step. "Marian?" However, Robin was unsure now. He tried to swallow but found himself unable to do so.
He could make out a figure emerging from the corner. And a gravelly voice greeted him from the shadows, "Hello Hood."
A/N Hi there! Contrary to popular belief - I am not dead! Yay!
I really have been working on this steadily. But you know - life. I will finish "Humanity" - nothing could make me leave it without an end. ;)
I know I told some of you that this chapter would up in October. As you can see - all my grandiose plans fell to pieces. Sorry about that. I feel really bad for not being able to keep to what I said.
I want to deeply thank all the anonymous reviewers. I really wish I could thank you in person. So a BIG thank you!
I also want to thank everyone who is following this and taking the time to read it. It means a lot. It does. Sorry I am not as speedy with the chapters as I would like.
I hope everyone was in character. Marian is finding out what she has instead of what she doesn't. Guy did save those kids (or at least start to save them) that he found spying on him in "Childhood." So I don't think him standing up for the stable boy would be so out of character.
Any new ideas about Spencer yet?
Once again - thank you! And happy reading!
CA :o)