Even though Sophie and Brandon sat beside her, Albie felt lonely. The sun was setting and it was dinner time; an ostensive occasion – Albie wasn't sure why – but even so it was one she was not enjoying. The Sheriff sat at the head of the table in the Great Hall, ripping meat from a bone like a rabid dog. Half way down the table on the right sat Albie, Sophie close by her side, with Brandon on the other. Opposite them sat a man Albie had known for less than five minutes but still hated and feared all at once. Albie eyed Guy of Gisbourne's arms nervously, hoping her vision would penetrate through leather to see if he did indeed have that incriminating tattoo. Sophie giggled pleasantly beside her, enjoying the lavish choice of food, while Brandon maintained polite conversation with the Sheriff. How is he doing that, Albie wondered, behaving so collectedly when he knows… Knows what? What did Brandon know? Brandon knew rumours, rumours from an outlaw. Albie was not about to trust the word of, or risk everything over, the word of an outlaw.
"I knew your father."
Albie met Sir Guy's eyes as he spoke. Her eyelids fluttered; one mention of her father and she was struck dumb. She did not reply.
"Yes," the Sheriff drawled from the other end of the table, "your father," he added, almost mockingly, "in all honesty I don't know why he made me godfather, I'm not exactly the god fearing type. But then, your father wasn't one for wise decisions."
Albie was silent.
"John Durnin was a good man," Brandon interjected amicably, smiling slightly at the Sheriff.
"Yes, yes of course," the Sheriff agreed with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but that's the key word isn't it? Was."
"John Durnin was a good man," Sir Guy muttered.
"Oh what would you know about good men," the Sheriff said scornfully, "I liked him in any case. What about your brother, Annie? Is he a good man?"
"My name's Albie."
"Albie then," the Sheriff corrected himself, equally as dismissive as before, "Albie, is your brother a good man?"
Albie swallowed, and out of the corner of her eye made brief eye contact with Brandon whose jaw, she noticed, was tight. Turning back to the Sheriff she replied:
"No."
The Sheriff chuckled darkly. Brandon let out a deep breath, and Sophie turned to her quizzically, her little face scrunched up in confusion.
"Looks like we have a little sibling animosity," the Sheriff chortled, "and why is your brother not a good man, goddaughter dear?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"But talk we must!" cried the Sheriff, jumping to his feet, "the sibling bond is one that must not be broken," he continued, ambling slowly towards…Sir Guy, "it requires mutual love and affection, respect and protection…"
Albie watched as the Sheriff began slowly massaging Sir Guy's shoulders. The latter's face grew dark, and he stared out in front of him, shining eyes gleaming through matted black hair.
"You should ask our friend Gizzy here for a few tips," the Sheriff continued, bending down to whisper maliciously in Sir Guy's ear, "you should ask our friend Gizzy, about his sister."
In a blur of movement, Sir Guy was out of his seat and striding towards the door, which he slammed ferociously behind him. Sophie jumped at the loud noise. Albie placed a clammy hand in her sister's silently, the only sounds that rang out were the Sheriff's occasional snorts of laughter.