I could not deny that I had to admit, at least to myself, that my present situation scared me pretty badly, even though I had tried to console myself with the fact that I would not have to endure this much longer. Still, I did not really want to reflect on what was to come before the end - quite understandably, in my opinion. At the same time, I also knew that I was not afraid of death in general. I would have been a poor soldier and knight if I had not prepared myself to fall in a battle. I never really cared whether this might happen by the sword of a Frenchman in Normandy or by the arrow of an outlaw in Sherwood. I had been aware that death could claim me at any time, and I had come to terms with this realization already at a young age.
It had been more difficult for me to get used to the idea that the executioner's sword could end my life, but both Richard the Lionheart and his brother John had made sure that this no longer seemed impossible. The fact that I was in the service of Robert de Rainault, the Sheriff of Nottingham, had also contributed to this, for the man had involved me in many a scheme for the sole reason of being able to make me a scapegoat if necessary. And unfortunately, I could not pretend that he was the only one who made use of me in this respect. In all of this the only constancy had been my own inability to keep myself out of it, since I had never been able to succeed in that.
The months following my capture, the time during which the King's henchmen tried – without any success - to get me to confess under torture, had given me sufficient time to become accustomed to the idea that the King could deny me the privilege of a noble to die by the sword and that instead he would have me strung up like a common felon. However, I realized soon that this would make no difference in the end.
But all these deliberations took place before my trial.
Needless to say, I had assumed that the King wanted to sit in judgment on me. I had taken that for granted well before John's henchmen tried to extort a confession out of me. It had not escaped my notice how curious they had been to know what the Knights of the Apocalypse had been up to. I was not surprised that they were not exactly squeamish, for this was their task, just as it had been one of my tasks in the service of the Sheriff. The efforts of the King's men, however, had not led to the hoped-for results. After all, pain was something with which I had been familiarized from an early age on, and therefore they had not managed to get me to talk.
Still, there were two issues that I kept pondering during this time. One was the realization that I was in fact the only one of the Order who had survived - this was something that one of my interrogators had let slip - which had made me curse my damned bad luck. Why had I not been able to find death in the battle as well? The other was about the manner of my questioning, which gave me the impression that for some reason I was not being treated as harshly as I could have been. I was astonished about that, as well, as I was pretty sure that at some point I, too, would not have been able to withstand the torture. But they never arrived at this point.
Moreover, they completely stopped questioning me from one day to the next. I had instead been brought to another cell, a clean one, with daylight, a bed, a table and a chair. My injuries had been taken care of, I had been provided with clean clothes - the kind I was entitled to as a knight, but not necessarily as a prisoner of the King - and every day I was given a proper meal and even wine. Needless to say, this aroused my suspicions immediately, although I could not figure out what was intended by this.
But I was quite certain that it could only have something to do with the trial that was awaiting me. I could just not imagine what advantage the King expected from this course of action and this was something that worried me a bit. On top of all of the other stuff that I was worried about anyway. But on the other hand, I was pretty sure I already knew how this would end, so I could not quite grasp why I was still pondering about my future in such a strained manner. For what reason was I unable to stop brooding? That could almost be perceived as droll, since de Rainault had always accused me of not having invented thinking.
But then the day arrived for which I had been waiting - and probably the King, too – yet I had dreaded it more than anything else.
When the door to my cell was opened and I had to realize that a whole bunch of royal soldiers had been assembled in front of it, I knew that this was finally the day of the trial. I was also certain that the favorable treatment I had received over the past few weeks would now come to an end. At the same time, I was sure that no one would be interested in my opinion, since why should anything have changed in that regard.
Several of the soldiers entered my cell, which until now I had not been allowed to leave for quite some time. My wrists were shackled behind my back, but I had been expecting something like that. Nor did the fact that my ankles were also chained came as a real surprise to me. After all, the King - and probably not only him - considered me a traitor. The safety of those in attendance had to be borne in mind, but beyond that, I also had to be shown what they regarded me as. I would not have done it differently myself.
But what happened next unsettled me a bit, since I had in no way expected to be gagged. This was not a common procedure and I had never observed it in any trial, before any court. This scared me somewhat, as I could not understand it. Thus, I would not be able to answer the questions of the court. Or did this perhaps signify that no one wanted to ask me any questions? Was the King not even going to pretend that everything had not already been decided in advance? Even though I had already assumed that this trial was just a farce, I was surprised by this since I really had not expected this to be shown so openly.
Although I was overcome suddenly by considerable fear, I took every effort to march in the midst of the soldiers with my head held high, to the Great Hall of Newark Castle, in which the King was about to sit in judgment on me. I also strove to make sure that my face did not show any of the different emotions that were assailing me at that very moment. This became quite difficult to achieve when I discovered that, in addition to the King and Ranulf de Blondeville - the Earl of Chester – as well as the Earl of Gloucester - this was not my old liege lord, but his grandson Gilbert de Clare, who had succeeded him - there were also Eustace, the Bishop of Ely, William of Sainte-Mère-Église, the Bishop of London, and Peter des Roches - who was both Bishop of Winchester and Chief Justiciar of England - to be my judges.
I was certain that the attendance of three bishops and, in addition, that of de Clare - who had always treated me with hostility - did not bode well for me. Then again, what was I fooling myself about? The situation had not been good for me even before this, and I had already become aware of it. Nevertheless, the composition of the court seemed odd to me and made me wonder about it anew. Not to mention the fact that I obviously could not do much else, since I was not allowed to contribute with my own statements.
King John was obviously in no particular hurry and so the day dragged on with testimonials from various people, both those who had only met me after I had revealed myself as a Knight of the Apocalypse and those who already had known me from my time as deputy to the Sheriff of Nottingham. Of course, the Sheriff himself also had his say, as did his brother, the so "honorable" Hugo de Rainault. Having him thrown into the dungeons had given me great satisfaction. Perhaps it was the recollection of this incident that caused the Abbot of St. Mary's to scowl at me repeatedly during his testimony. However, this did not bother me on this day more than it had in the past.
Robert de Rainault, on the other hand, was much more occupied with wallowing in his new renown than paying any attention to me. He owed the King's goodwill to the fact that he had managed to hand over documents owned by the Order to the sovereign, including lists with the names of the Brethren. However, of the men listed there, none but myself could be held accountable by the King. They had either died at St. John's or were beyond his reach in France and enjoyed the protection of the French King, even though their plot to overthrow the English ruler had failed. Only one knight had had the misfortune to fall into John's hands while still alive.
Though I preferred to view my present situation as an opportunity for me to proudly represent the Order. This was what I had set out to do, regardless of the doubts about the Order's goals and actions that had entered my mind even before the battle at St. John's. However, this was not something I would reveal to anyone else. Besides, it would not change my fate either, and I certainly did not want to be remembered by the people as a ditherer. Rather should they think of me as a decisive traitor who stood by his convictions even after him being taken prisoner.
The Sheriff of Nottingham had been the last witness to be heard before the King announced that he - and the other judges - would now partake of their midday meal first. Thus, they stayed away for about two hours, while the prisoner, that was me, had to remain in the Great Hall and await the return of the judges.
The King made me wait now as well. I tried to convince myself that this should not bother me anymore, but I knew it was not true. At least it was not the whole truth. On the one hand, I was inclined to regard every remaining moment as a precious part of the rest of my life, but on the other hand, I would be very glad when all of this would finally come to an end. This was also due to the fact that I was so terribly freezing.
Certainly, I had not expected to be indulged by any warmth at this time of the year - thinking about warmth, I could not prevent a grimace from appearing on my face, and I certainly would not be able to pass it off as a grin to anyone - but I had eavesdropped on the guards talking about unusually sunny weather which by now had lasted for weeks. Therefore, I had actually been looking forward to getting to see the sun one last time, since I had not been able to experience anything like sunshine in my damp and cold cell.
But that was not to be, for as soon as I was led out into the open, clouds started to roll in, covering the entire sky at a frighteningly swift pace and giving the sun no chance to spear through them. The castle bailey, where on this day everything would take place, was in no time immersed in a gloomy twilight. In addition, an unpleasant, cold, and gusty wind had arisen, which was mainly to blame for the fact that I was so dreadfully freezing while I was forced to wait for the King.
It had not been that bad for me on the day of my trial, as the temperature in the Great Hall had been quite pleasant. The only thing that had bothered me was the fact that I had to stand for the complete time. But even that would eventually come to an end when I would finally find myself back in a cell where I could lie down.
"Let's finish this promptly!" The tone of voice John used with these words could be called jovial and thereby he did not indicate that this day was actually about the fate, about the life, of a man. Probably none of those attending would believe that the King was really interested in anything other than his intention to show everyone who was calling the shots. After all, the outcome was already decided.
"There're only two more statements, my Liege," Peter des Roches, the Chief Justiciar, made himself be heard.
"Then we should proceed without any delay." There was no denying that the King was in an exceptionally good mood. This was perhaps due to the fact that he already knew what the verdict would be. Even in my own perception, in my role as the accused, there could be only one possible outcome to this trial.
"The Earl of Huntingdon will come forward," des Roches announced.
On hearing these words, I shifted my weight a bit so that I had a chance to turn a little, for I was quite interested in how David of Huntingdon, who was already elderly, had endured his imprisonment at St. John's. It had surprised me how horrified I had been to learn, upon my return to the fortress, that the Earl had been betrayed by the constable of his own castle and was now a prisoner with the Knights of the Apocalypse. I had not been able to imagine what purpose this should serve, for I was convinced he would never allow himself to be persuaded to join the Order. However, it was my opinion, that he was a too important player in politics and for power to let him simply vanish. This would not be to the advantage of the Order.
At that time, however, I had not yet known what de Montbalm intended to do with the Earl's son, with Robin Hood. I had brought the outlaw to the fortress on the promise that he would be executed, but instead they made an attempt to turn him into a member of the Order as well. No one had wanted to listen to me when I tried to make them understand that this was not a good idea. No one was willing to believe me when I talked about Hood being protected from their influence as Herne's Son. Everyone was convinced that ... the one who gave protection to our Order and bestowed power and strength upon it could not possibly fail against an old Saxon superstition. However, I had to admit that I myself was of this opinion as well when I joined the Order. But this particular behavior of our leaders had intensified my discontent and stoked my doubts.
Yet again, though, I had far too late started contemplating the situation into which I had maneuvered myself. The time when I could have saved myself lay already in the past. In this respect it was of no use that I regretted to have discovered that the Earl was a prisoner. Yet it was for this reason that I was interested in seeing how he had gotten through the whole episode.
But in the place of David of Huntingdon, who for many years had excelled as one of the most powerful Barons of the realm - which surely had something to do with the fact that he was brother and grandson of a Scottish King - a much younger man came forward. A man, however, who was very well known to me, but whom I would never have expected to see here - except as a prisoner of the King. Definitely not as Earl of Huntingdon.
The man who presented himself now before the judges was none other than Robin Hood, the self-proclaimed "King of Sherwood" and Son of Herne. And quite obviously he was now also once again officially the son and heir of the Earl of Huntingdon. Or rather: he was the successor of David of Huntingdon.
I caught myself almost shaking my head in bewilderment that the King was apparently serious about hearing this man as a witness. What could have happened that John had allowed him to succeed his father? When had the old Earl died? Hopefully not in captivity with the Order, for he had certainly not deserved such a fate.
It was quite odd that I should feel sympathy for a man who had never looked upon me favorably. On the contrary, he had never left any doubt that he felt nothing but contempt for the man who served as deputy to the Sheriff of Nottingham. Nevertheless, at this point I was forced to acknowledge that I could not help but admire the Earl for his convictions and his determination. His death was for sure a loss for the entire realm. Regardless of the fact that I had been a willing participant in a coup, I could not deny this.
"My Lord Earl," des Roches addressed the former - former? - outlaw. "Some time ago your consort and you have already made a statement concerning the events leading up to the battle at St. John's and about the battle itself. This has been written down and verified as well, so I do believe it is in the best interest of this court, and also in its sense if we will simply read out that statement at this point. Thus, you will not have to trouble your recollection."
"That's very obliging of you, my Lord," the younger one replied while moving a bit to one side, as if he was not really comfortable right in front of the judges.
"I had been looking forward to enjoying the sight of your lovely consort," the King made himself heard as well. "She did not accompany you?"
"My spouse very much regrets not being able to be here, but given the fact that she carries my son under her heart, we didn't want to take any chances and expose her to the rigors of a journey."
I noticed that Hood had lost none of his ability to blatantly spread lies and it amused me somewhat that he even dared to do so in this place. On the other hand, the King had to be aware that these words could not be true, and yet he did not react to them. Was John really not interested in Hood's answer? If the King did not consider the absence of a beautiful woman to be a loss, then everyone in attendance should be very circumspect. Then it occurred to me that I did not need to be careful in this regard. After all, my fate was already decided.
Next, the testimony of "Lady" Marion was read out to us, in which only the part concerning the period of time after I had left Nottingham was new to me. But at least the question of how de Rainault had gotten to St. John's was now settled. He certainly had not liked it at all being dragged along by the outlaws as bait. He was accustomed to using other people, not being used himself.
The testimony of the new Earl was certainly much more crucial for the court. Hood had obviously remembered all that had happened to him during his time with the Order. But things got really interesting when he told about his fight against de Montbalm. And he had not been shy about talking about how the Grand Master had been possessed by the Order's patron during that fight. I could not believe it when I heard that he was talking in all seriousness what it had been about with the demon to whom the knights paid homage in the form of a golden idol. I had been doing the same, too, and in this manner I had been benefiting from the advantages that Baphomet had given me. I had still followed the instructions of the Order at that time, believing that God would not bother with the material world and therefore there would be nothing else for us to do but to worship the so-called "Lord of the World". Only at a much later date had the absurdity of this doctrine dawned on me and even later the blasphemy. Again, I had far too late realized that not everything was as I had wished it to be.
But could Hood really assume that the Barons of the realm would believe that a demon had been involved in overthrowing the King? And what about John himself, who generally did not believe in anything? How did he saw this statement? Though, of course, it was clear to me as well that the King would seize on anything that promised him a success. But a demon in the flesh?
It was only at that point that all of a sudden I realized that there were three bishops among the judges and that the Church had certainly a completely different look on the events at St. John's. All at once I thought of the fact that the Church would probably see Hood's statement quite differently than the Earls and the King. When I had come this far with my line of thought, suddenly a cold shiver ran down my spine, for I considered also the consequences for my own person.
I had already resigned myself to losing my life. I had also prepared myself for the King to pronounce me a traitor and, as a result, possibly deny me the privilege of the nobility to die by the executioner's sword. I had to reckon with swinging on the gallows like a common felon.
But what I was now being threatened with turned out to be something else altogether. Suddenly I viewed the participation of the three bishops as a sign that I would not be leaving this hall as a convicted traitor, but as a condemned heretic. And if this should indeed happen, then I would certainly be burned at the stake instead of being allowed to lay my head on the executioner's block. For something like this I had not prepared myself, and I imagined that this was also nothing I could accept in the same way as the fate that would be in store for me according to my previous assumptions. However, I could state with certainty that this notion instilled a great deal of fear into me and I had no idea whether I still had sufficient strength to not show this to anyone.
I shuddered, not only due to the cold wind I was exposed to with no protection, but also because of remembering the despair that had already overcome me before the court even reached its verdict. I was sure at that point that I knew what was coming.
However, I would have been delighted, if my suspicions had turned out to be wrong, but of course this was one of the few times when, for once, I was proven right.
I really could not remember how I had managed not to collapse. It might have had something to do with the fact that my nemesis had been in the hall as well, for certainly I was not going to embarrass myself by showing Hood my weakness.
It did not come as a surprise to me that I was sentenced to death by the King. But I had never expected that John would refrain from branding me as a traitor, leaving it to the representatives of the Church to condemn me as a heretic. And the three bishops did not miss the opportunity to make it unmistakably clear to those in attendance - including myself - in what way this heretic had to be purged of his sins.
It was then that it crossed my mind that the new Earl of Huntingdon must be very pleased, too. But when I caught sight of Robin Hood while I was being led out of the hall - still in a daze - I was very puzzled, as the man looked rather as if he had been the one who had just been sentenced. There was no way that I could look any paler than the former outlaw.
All the way to my cell I – the last Knight of the Apocalypse remaining on English soil - was pondering about the reaction of Robert of Huntingdon and this was perhaps the reason that I did not notice straight away that I was not taken back to where I had been fetched in the morning. I had obviously been allocated to another cell, which I should have anticipated. After all, I was well-aware of the manner in which such things took place.
I shuddered again at the memory of what had happened to me in the weeks after the verdict had been passed, for now I remembered the day I had to spend in the Great Hall to be the last one I had not been cold.
If I had been treated far too well in the time prior to the trial - at least that had been my impression, after all, at that point it was already obvious to me that as a prisoner of the King, as someone who had betrayed England, I should actually expect a different treatment - this had changed now radically.
The cell in which I found myself was windowless, clammy and drafty. Even the clothes I had previously been provided with had been taken from me again. But this was only the beginning of another kind of persecution, for the Church had obviously made it its responsibility to save my soul from eternal damnation one way or another. At least that was the impression I was given.
I felt now more like a monk forced to repent against his will than a knight awaiting execution. Perhaps I should not have been too surprised, having been convicted not as a traitor, but as a heretic. And perhaps I should not have been so averse to the whole matter, for the very thought of the eternity that awaited me in hell made me break out in a cold sweat. I could not deny to myself that I experienced considerable fear.
And yet I did not like the methods of the Church at all, nor the realization that no one cared whether I should be saved at all. Neither the monks who had come to my cell to shave my head, nor those who slipped - almost forcibly - a kind of monk's habit on me - made of a scratchy fabric that did not even keep me warm - had so much as inquired as to what I thought of the whole affair. Apparently, I had to have no opinion of my own in the matter of my soul's salvation.
From that time on, there was always someone with me in my cell who prayed with me, not only throughout the day, but repeatedly also throughout the night. The prayers were reinforced by intense fasting until I got the impression that I had lost all my strength. And, of course, a priest showed up every day to hear my confession. It did not take long before I knew no longer what I was supposed to confess, since I, too, had only one life in which to sin.
Besides, there was the problem that I did not want to tell this man everything, since I was quite sure that he was not particularly concerned about the seal of confession. But I took some satisfaction from the fact that I had at least confessed all the stuff that would incriminate the Sheriff, but also his brother, the Abbot. I had also not withheld anything of what my liege lord had asked of me, even though the man was already dead by now. His family would still be harmed by what I had said, moreover since I was very confident that the information would be used in that sense. However, this should be the only aspect that gave me some happiness for quite a while, as the monks and priests did everything to convey the impression to me that I found myself already in hell during the last days of my life.
However, I had not confessed anything my stepfather had done to me when I had been a child, but neither had I told some of the things I had done of my own volition in the Sheriff's service. Most importantly, I had not spoken about what I had actually felt for the first Robin Hood, as this was something I had also kept from myself for years. This was not really a surprise, however, as I had always considered these notions to be a greater sin than any other wrong I had ever done. Nevertheless, I now wished I had the chance to confess all of this, though I had known from the start that the priest who tormented me on every day was no suitable candidate for it.
To my great astonishment, my deliverance arrived then out of a direction from which I had never expected to receive it, yet one day a visitor stood outside my cell, whom I had assumed I would certainly not be willing to meet. However, he had not turned up all alone, for he was accompanied by a priest, whom I trusted to keep everything to himself that I would confess to him - as odd as this must have seemed.
I had not seen Friar Tuck since that disastrous day back at St. John's, but the time that had since passed had not led to any changes in him. I could tell from his face, however, that this was not true of myself, for he was unable to hide his shock. The man who had brought him here reacted in the same way.
"Leave us alone with the prisoner," the Earl of Huntingdon ordered the monk who was in the cell with me. It came completely unexpected for me, but he immediately complied with the request to depart the cell and I was only able to stare after him in disbelief, for otherwise he would only leave when one of the other monks had relieved him. For weeks I had had to endure their presence without any break, only to discover now that he complied with the Earl without any objections.
"I know I'm the last person you want to see, Guy, but Friar Tuck would not have been given permission to access your cell without me," Hood explained to me.
'You're certainly not the last person I want to see, but you're close, Hood!' I kept my objection to myself, though, for I did not mind the outlaw staying in the belief that his presence was so repulsive to me.
The man looked almost as miserable as the last time I had seen him. Maybe he was sick? I was unable to come up with any other explanation for his condition, but I was sure that if anyone here was meant to look like he was suffering, it would have to be me. And if I interpreted the facial expressions of these two correctly, it was definitely me. Still, I wondered why Hood looked like he was the one awaiting execution. After all, he should be doing really well now that he had taken his ancestral position once again.
But why was I worrying about Hood, as he was no longer my problem. Let the Sheriff and the King deal with him. Hopefully, he would cause them a lot of problems.
"I have come to hear your confession, if you so wish, Sir Guy," the monk suddenly interrupted my line of thought, startling me not only with his offer, but also with his polite form of address. No one had addressed me as Sir Guy for a long time. It actually rattled me a bit, also since it did not come across as if he was mocking me. On the contrary, he had spoken with great sincerity and that robbed me for a moment of the ability to speak. Taken aback, I could only nod.
"Then I'll leave you alone, Tuck," Hood let himself be heard, and hammered with his fist on the door, which was opened immediately. The outlaw left the cell and I was suddenly alone with the monk.
This was not to be the last time that Friar Tuck visited me in my cell, but the next few times he came alone even though Hood was waiting beyond the door. The monk had also come to me on this morning to hear the last of my confessions, although I really had nothing more to say to him. I had already told him about everything that I could never have confided to the other priest. And doing so had truly felt very good. I just would have liked to learn why Hood had made it possible for me to do that, but of course I had not posed that question. After Tuck had left, I had to endure once again the presence of the other Church representatives, who had not taken it very well that someone else had come to see me. Fortunately, it had then not been very long before I was led out.
And now I was here, in the very place where my life would soon come to an end, waiting for the King to finally grace us with his presence. He had truly taken long enough before he finally settled down on his throne chair and I could hope it would not take too long now.
As I turned my gaze to the King, I could also make out Hood in his immediate vicinity, looking just as pale as he had after the pronouncement of the verdict. 'Why don't you enjoy the sight of your defeated enemy, you Bastard!' This thought had flashed through my mind, before I realized that it had only been triggered by the fact that I could not understand his state. I had not forgotten that I was grateful to him for what he had done for me in the last weeks.
My musings about Hood had distracted me, however, so I failed to spot the men who were approaching with torches, but I could not miss the sound as the bundles of twigs that were stuck between the larger pieces of wood caught fire. Immediately I felt my heartbeat quicken extremely and sweat breaking out, although I had been freezing in the cold wind just a moment ago.
But the wind was not yet done with me. Now it swept with a vengeance into the spaces between the pieces and thus fanned the flames, but, strangely enough, mainly at my back. There the flames shot up rather quickly, but at that moment the thick stake to which I had been chained still shielded me from the fire. On the other hand, the chains wrapped around my ankles were heating up rather quickly, though the pain was still bearable. The stench of my own burnt flesh was more difficult to endure, as it brought back memories of another situation in which I had been exposed to a fire. Fortunately, the wind quickly carried the stench towards the onlookers, along with the smoke from the fire. Another gust of wind then pushed the flames down once again. I was horrified to realized that in this manner it could still take forever until this torment would finally be over.
But then suddenly a strong gust of wind fanned the flames and they soared up in front of me as well. Before I could brace myself, the rough robe of penitence - which hung like a sack on my emaciated body and into which I had been put more or less by force - caught fire in an instant. I had not anticipated anything like this and therefore I did not succeed in suppressing a cry of pain, which left my throat in such a volume that it could not be overheard by anyone, although the fire had also come to life with a loud roar. At that moment my despair was so great that I turned my face towards heaven and pleaded - to whatever god - to grant me a quick end. For a brief moment I thought I felt a tender caress on my cheek, but then my world was plunged into darkness.