"I will certainly provide you with men, my Lord." The Sheriff expressed himself at such a volume that Sir Guy had no problem understanding his words, even though de Rainault stood at the other end of the Great Hall, while the knight had not even reached the stairs leading down into it, and thus had not caught sight of him or the man to whom he was speaking.
Gisburne asked himself some questions straight away, to which he considered the answers to be important for his own course of action. Who was this visitor - who was either very important or else hard of hearing - in what did the Sheriff offer him his support - which was probably the most important question in this situation - and what did this imply for the knight himself?
"But I need definitely a man who knows his way around here and whom I can trust to carry out everything to my complete and utter contentment," the stranger replied. From his tone of voice Gisburne could easily gather that he was accustomed to having his wishes fulfilled without any delay.
Sir Guy had stopped before he had reached the stairs. If he was given the opportunity to eavesdrop on this conversation without the Sheriff noticing, he wanted to take advantage of it. One could not let such an opportunity pass in Nottingham Castle, and this was especially true regarding the knight. The more he could learn about the situation right now, the better he would be able to prepare himself for what de Rainault would otherwise ambush him with without any advance warning.
"There is just the right man in my service for this purpose, my Lord," the Sheriff assured the other man in a tone from which Gisburne concluded the stranger must be quite important. "My deputy is out there on almost every day. He does not only know the area, but he is also familiar with the rabble that loiters there."
"But are you really convinced that he is the right man for the occasion?" There were few men who would dare to speak to the Sheriff in such a tone without sending him into one of his infamous fits of rage. This time, however, the knight waited to no avail for a subsequent reaction from de Rainault.
Gisburne sighed. He would not just be handed once again a task that was too unpleasant - or too dicey - for the Sheriff himself, no, he would certainly be made to suffer later that the man had had to hold back at this point. Definitely these were not really pleasant prospects.
Sir Guy started nevertheless moving again knowing that he should not keep his master waiting any longer. He would otherwise run the risk that his master's mood would deteriorate even further, and he did not want to chance this under any circumstances.
"Ah," an exclamation rang out from the direction of the Sheriff, thereby showing the knight that he had already been spotted by his master, "and here is the very man." Although he did not utter the words 'at last', Gisburne was nevertheless able to hear them clearly. However, this was only due to the fact that he knew de Rainault's habits very well, just as his way of thinking; after all, he had been working for him for years. Far too many years, in his opinion, but there was nothing he could do about this. Much to his chagrin.
"My Lord, may I present Sir Guy of Gisburne, my deputy, who is in charge of all the matters that require being out and about in the shire. He doesn't mind, though, as he loves to be on horseback and also to mess with the vermin which believe the King's laws don't apply to them."
"Gisburne," he addressed the knight next, though in an unmistakably less friendly tone. "This is the Baron de Grieu, one of King John's commanders in Normandy."
The knight realized instantly why the Sheriff was so obliging and supportive towards this man. The King's commanders also had the King's ear - usually - and de Rainault could not afford to displease his sovereign. Especially not since Hood was still in Sherwood, without being troubled. Gisburne was well aware how lucky they had been that the last failed attempt to capture the outlaw had not been the fault of the Sheriff or his deputy. But that did not change the fact that here in Nottingham they had to be careful when dealing with John's favorites. Extremely careful.
"My Lord," he greeted the Baron with the proper bow. But then he had no choice but to wait to learn what was in store for him.
"The Baron has traveled from Normandy in order to escort his daughter-in-law to Kirklees, but he has now to return to the King and entreats me to arrange for the young Lady to reach the destination of her journey without being harmed." The Sheriff grimaced in a manner that Gisburne suspected was meant to be a smile, but apparently de Rainault was too tense for it to actually be recognizable as one. This was another sign of how important this guest was, but also a reminder that Gisburne could not afford to upset de Rainault in any way if he did not want to be subjected to the Sheriff's wrath. In this regard, he always had in mind that de Rainault could be very creative and as a result the knight would run the risk of suffering pain should he incur his master's displeasure. However, it would without any doubt turn out to be humiliating.
"This errand should suit you just fine," the Sheriff was unable to keep his opinion to himself.
It was a good thing that the Baron did not interpret these words in the way that de Rainault had meant them, as the latter was referring to the fact that Sir Guy was known to be a womanizer. Fortunately, however, de Grieu was thinking of something else. "The Sheriff has already informed me that you like to be out in the shire," the guest addressed the knight now heads on.
"I am a soldier, my Lord," the latter used the same explanation he always put forward by him, when he had to respond to similar questions, and that for most persons was sufficient in this context.
"But I hope for sure you are accustomed to dealing with noble women and do not behave too ill-mannered, Sir Guy!" In this instance there was something like concern evident in the Baron's voice.
Before Gisburne got the chance to reply, the Sheriff was apparently of the opinion it would be better for him to comment on the matter himself. "You don't have to worry about that, my Lord," he assured him, adding that by all means everything would be carried out to his liking. However, this did not make Gisburne feel any better, for he was now quite sure that the Sheriff would definitely make him suffer if anything went wrong in this particular matter.
"Fine." This seemed to be a sufficient answer for the Baron, but it was then followed by something more. "I would prefer to accompany Lady Isabé to Kirklees in person, but unfortunately we have lost too much time on this journey as it is, and the King is expecting me back in Normandy. You can well imagine that there is no way I can keep our liege waiting. It is only for this reason that I entrust my daughter-in-law to your safekeeping." He aimed his words at the Sheriff and it was not necessarily an indication that the Baron had great confidence in de Rainault. Or in his deputy.
Once again the knight was unable to keep his mouth shut, mainly due to the fact that he wanted to counteract the impression that he was incapable of carrying out this assignment. "I will not disappoint you!", he promised therefore to the Baron and he was quite serious about it. However, this was not just about the man standing in front of him, but also about the - bittersweet - memories that the name 'Isabé' had evoked in him.
The Baron had turned his eyes only briefly to Gisburne before focusing his attention back on the Sheriff, so for a short while Sir Guy was able to lose himself in said memories. For a fleeting moment, he returned to a time when he had not been forced to live in Nottingham. Back then his father - his stepfather, as he immediately corrected himself - had still been alive, and the knight had not been able to avoid returning to the family seat at Gisburne on occasion. On the whole, these had been times he did not like to recall, yet he had not forgotten that in those days there had also been some beautiful and pleasant points. This was definitely the case with the daughter of a neighbor, bearing the name Isabé. And with whom young Guy had fallen hopelessly in love. The young lady had not been opposed to him either, but naturally she had no say in the matter concerning her husband-to-be. To his chagrin, the young man had been in no position to offer her - and above all her father - anything of substance.
This was one of the reasons why it had dawned on him quite early that he could not hope to make Isabé his wife, even if he had been convinced that she would have said yes. This, however, had never affected their friendship, which nevertheless ended rather abruptly. Upon his last return to Gisburne - to attend the funeral of his mother's husband - he had learned to his great sorrow that the young lady was no longer with her family. Her father had arranged for her to marry to Normandy, and all that had been left for Guy to do after that was to hold on to his memories of her.
For this reason, he would indeed do his utmost to escort the Baron's daughter-in-law to Kirklees without putting her in harm's way. He also would not make this reliant on whether the lady would turn out to be an agreeable person or not. He owed that much to the memory of his childhood sweetheart.
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However, the knight had then to wait until the evening before he was to be given the opportunity to meet the Baron's daughter-in-law. It was not, though, that he was idle until that time, since he was sufficiently preoccupied with the fact that the Baron - before having to return to Normandy on the following day - wanted to check whether he approved of what Gisburne had planned. Moreover, he would certainly want to inspect the men the deputy sheriff had chosen to be the escort for Lady Isabé. For this reason, the knight had no choice but to see to it without further delay.
There was just a minor problem in this matter. Precisely, that the garrison in Nottingham was no longer fully manned. On the one hand, this was due to the fact that every time the King paid a visit to the town - and the castle - he would take some of the men stationed here with him. John could always use soldiers as he spent them in his campaigns even faster than Gisburne lost them to Robin Hood. The other reason for the shortage of men was known as ... Robin Hood. The men, who after all were not as well protected - nor as well trained - as the knight, became continually victims of the outlaws, no matter what Gisburne did to keep them safe. He had to resign himself to this situation, which did not stop him from at least making sure that his soldiers were only injured and not killed. But even if this was the case they were not at his disposal for quite some time. None of this made it any easier for him to find replacements for the ones who were no longer available to him.
But despite the fact that neither the injured nor the rookies were at his disposal - the latter for the simple reason that they were not yet sufficiently trained - he managed to assemble a squad, which then gained the Baron's approval. This was much to the relief of the knight, who had to pull himself together in order not to grin blatantly when he became aware of the sour expression on the face of the Sheriff, who had had to listen to the Baron praising his deputy and calling him competent - without de Rainault being able to contribute something himself. The words were balm for Sir Guy's battered soul and ensured that he could look forward to the evening's meal with a composure. All that was now left for him to do was make sure not to antagonize the lady herself, but that should not really be an issue. After all, he had no intention of getting her into his bed. For this reason, he was able to approach the matter in a completely relaxed manner.
Therefore, he was even a little bit disappointed when he had to realize that he had worried about nothing at all, for when he showed up in the Great Hall in the evening, dressed appropriately – even if he had stopped caring about how he was dressed in the years he had to spend here in Nottingham, as long as only the Sheriff was present - he could not yet see any sign of Lady Isabé. But it was not long before he caught on that it was not yet certain whether she would be attending the meal at all.
"You must forgive my daughter-in-law, my Lords," the Baron de Grieu informed the Sheriff and his deputy. "She is still grieving for my son, who has passed away a few months ago. His death has affected her greatly, probably due to the fact that the marriage had not been blessed with children. Guérôme devoted himself to his wife far too rarely. He was a soldier through and through and simply loved to go into battle. He was so ebullient that I actually wondered a time or two that he was still alive." The man did not give the impression that he suffered particularly from his son's death. He might as well have been talking about one of his men.
"Are you married, Sir Guy?" he then addressed the knight quite unexpectedly.
Gisburne, who at that very moment had taken a sip from his goblet, managed - thankfully - not to spit any of the wine across the table, for that would certainly not have made a favorable impression on the Baron.
"No, my Lord," was all he brought forth then.
"That is perhaps preferable for a soldier," de Grieu went on. "I am glad that my spouse preceded me many years ago, for nowadays I am also solely on the move. When the King is calling, one can't object, but I would have hated to leave her alone too often. After all, one never knows what strange notions women might come up with in that case." He uttered a guffaw, which de Rainault joined in with rather quickly.
Whereas the knight could not laugh at these words, as for him these put the woman whom the Baron's son had left behind in an unflattering position. According to the Baron's own statements, she had apparently often been neglected by her husband. Was he implying that she had indulged herself elsewhere? Had he really such a bad opinion of his daughter-in-law?
It was pure luck that Lady Isabé arrived only at that very moment. This prevented her from hearing what the Baron had uttered, but fortunately, the man was not so insensitive as to pursue the subject in her presence.
"My Lords, may I present my daughter-in-law Lady Isabé de Grieu, my youngest son's widow." At these words the guest had risen, and for this reason the Sheriff had no choice but to do the same, even though he would usually only ever rise for the King and a few of the Earls at the most. Needless to say, Gisburne had followed the example of the two men immediately.
"My Dear," de Grieu then addressed the Lady in a tone that could be called quite friendly, "may I present Robert de Rainault, the honorable Sheriff of Nottinghamshire. And this here is his deputy, Sir Guy of Gisburne. It is he who will escort you to Kirklees in the morning. As you are well aware, I must return to the King without further delay."
The woman, who appeared to be quite young - that much Sir Guy was able to make out about her - had stopped in front of the table while her father-in-law was making the introductions, and the knight took the opportunity to study her - inconspicuously, as he hoped. She was - as he had already noticed - relatively young, obviously of slender build, and quite tall for a woman. She was dressed in a simple outfit that did not reveal much about her, a wimple beneath which absolutely nothing of her hair could be seen, and no jewelry of any kind. The Baron had clearly not been lying when he stated that she was still grieving for her husband.
By her entire presentation and behavior, the knight knew without any doubt for what reason she wanted to go to Kirklees, for she really gave the impression of a woman who intended to enter a convent having turned her back on the world. As she made her way to the seat next to the Baron, Gisburne did not fail to notice how uncertainly the young woman moved, as if she were about to collapse. This made the knight wonder if the carriage he had chosen for the journey would be the right one for her, for she did not look as if she could endure too much.
As soon as Lady Isabé was seated, the servants approached to place food and a goblet in front of her.
"I sincerely hope you will be able to partake of something on this evening, my Lady," the Baron addressed her once more, although he then did not wait to find out whether she wished to reply to him, instead turning his attention directly back to the Sheriff, with whom he had previously conversed with as well. Thereafter, he paid no more attention to the young woman.
On the other hand, Sir Guy would have been happy to engage in a conversation with her, yet there were several reasons why he did not put his intention into practice. First of all, he was not quite certain that the Sheriff - and his guest - would be pleased. Nor did the young woman appear to be interested in talking to anyone. In his opinion, she likewise did not give the impression that she was intending to consume anything. He realized that he had not been mistaken in that, when throughout the time she spent in the Great Hall, she covered a large part of her face with a kerchief. Nor did she ever put that piece of cloth down. Gisburne was involuntarily reminded of Lady Mildred, who had sat here at the same table in a similar pose, though unlike the Sheriff's never-to-be-bride, this Lady did not seem to be crying. At least he could hear nothing of it.
However, none of this was the main reason for Sir Guy's reluctance. This resulted only from the fact that the young woman made him once again think of his neighbor's daughter, for he could well remember her slender figure and he had also not forgotten that she had been quite tall for a girl. This in itself would have been sufficient to prevent Gisburne from starting a casual conversation with Baron Grieu's daughter-in-law. On top of that, though, this alleged resemblance made him wish throughout the evening that he could get to see more of her face, or at least hear her voice, for he could not help but envision her actually being the girl from his youth whom he had loved so much. Above all, he wished he would be able to dispel that impression, for otherwise he was afraid his memories would plague him greatly.
Unfortunately, she did not do him this favor, so it was no wonder that Isabé of Dorsey dominated his dreams on this night.
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The next morning came much too soon for the knight, for he had not really found much sleep that night. On the other hand, he had also longed for dawn to arrive so that he could finally escape the dreams that plagued him. Therefore, it was no wonder that he found himself in the stables very early, even though he was quite fatigued.
Gisburne was convinced that there was no way Lady Isabé would want to set off this early, but he was not worried about it, for he knew how to make good use of the remaining time. He too seldom got the opportunity to take good care of Fury. He wanted therefore to take advantage of the fact that he would still have to wait for his charge.
He relished the time he was able to devote to the stallion, and for more than one reason. The horse was not only important to him as a knight, as without a well-trained steed, he was not worth as much as a fighter – he only had to see to it to not get unhorsed. Of this he was all too aware, of course, as Fury was not the first horse he had gone into battle on. Nevertheless, the stallion was special to him, for he had gotten him as a foal and trained him himself from the ground up. Thus, he was more than just another beast to him.
He experienced a sense of regret when he then realized that he would not have to wait as long as he had expected - and indeed hoped - after all. The young lady was not the late riser he had believed her to be and when he became aware of this, the knight was quite relieved that he had already prepared everything. The Baron would certainly have revised his opinion of him on the spot had the situation presented itself to him differently.
The Baron's daughter-in-law surprised Gisburne in another point as well. After he had had the chance to observe the young woman on the previous evening, he had racked his brains as to whether the carriage he had chosen would be comfortable enough for her. It had at no time occurred to him that she would not want to travel in a carriage, nevertheless he had also seen to it that the mare on which she had arrived in Nottingham was one of the horses that the posse would take with them, for he had no right to deprive her of her property. He had assumed the Baron would have told him if he wanted to take the horse back with him. Hence, the expensive saddle and tack were also among the Lady's belongings.
However, the moment she arrived at the castle bailey, he found out he had been mistaken in his assumption, for the Baron de Grieu, who was at her side, promptly issued an order to one of the stable hands, and the latter hastened to saddle the mare. Only afterwards turned the Baron to the knight, who in the meantime had approached the two of them, even though he did not really feel comfortable as he observed the activities.
"My daughter-in-law does not like at all to have to travel in a carriage, unless there is absolutely no other way." Even though the Baron seemed not to be particularly interested in the young woman's opinion, Gisburne took his words as a criticism nonetheless. But how could he have known what the Lady's preferences were? However, the knight was aware that this was irrelevant for the Baron, just as it would have been for the Sheriff in such a case.
"I'm sorry, Sir Guy," Lady Isabé let herself be heard all of a sudden. "I should have informed you in time that I preferred to ride. It is not your fault that you were not prepared for this."
The young woman's statement made Gisburne feel as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning, and he was unable to do more than mumble a few slurred words that he hoped she - and her father-in-law - would perceive as an apology. At the same time, he hoped that neither of them had really listened to him, for he himself did not know what he had just blurted out.
Yet this had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he had not expected Lady Isabé to address him in person – even if he had indeed not expected her to do so - and to apologize for the inconvenience she had caused him - he had certainly not expected that either. His state of mind could only be blamed on the realization that the Baron's daughter-in-law - the widow of the Baron's son - was truly the woman who had haunted his dreams during the previous night. Isabé de Grieu was in fact Isabé of Dorsey, his childhood sweetheart.
The Baron had not noticed any of this. He was a man who cared first and foremost about his own person, no matter in what respect and situation. Of course, he made sure to comply with the King's wishes, but in all likelihood only for the reason that otherwise it would not have served him well. A single evening in his company had been sufficient for Gisburne to come to that understanding. Then again, that brief time had been enough to make him realize that this made this man more dangerous, for in dealing with him one had always to keep in mind what would be important to the Baron, and not merely what would be beneficial to the realm. Fortunately, Gisburne had been long enough in the service of the Sheriff, who exhibited fairly similar characteristics, and so he was well prepared for the likes of the Baron.
In this respect, Lady Isabé was much more circumspect - despite her apparently having personal problems. And it could not be missed that she knew the Baron well enough not to do anything that would draw his attention to what was going on right now. She certainly had no intention of disqualifying the knight for the task ahead.
As if nothing had transpired, she just mentioned that she was ready now to set off, before she turned briefly to her father-in-law to bid him Godspeed, then she let Sir Guy - who had used the time to recover somewhat from his shock - bring her to the mare and help her into the saddle. Later on, the knight would not be able to tell how he himself had managed to get on Fury, for by the time he came to his senses, he, the young woman, and the armed escort had already exited the town and were on the road which led north.
Sir Guy could now only pray that he had said a proper farewell to the Baron and the Sheriff, for none of this had stuck in his mind.
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As soon as the party reached the edge of Sherwood, the knight had no choice but to shake off his shock and the paralysis, for now they were entering the territory that Robin Hood considered to be his own. And since the outlaw was also defending this claim, they were thus coming into an area where it could be quite dangerous for Gisburne and the soldiers. The knight was in no position to say for sure how many men he had already lost to the outlaws, but he fervently hoped not to encounter them this time.
Although he did not fear for the life of his charge - no matter what the "King of Sherwood" thought himself to be, he could not entirely forget the upbringing he had enjoyed as the son of an Earl - but he wanted to spare her the unpleasant experience of being robbed. Even if he assumed she would not object to giving something to the poor. He could well remember how generous she had been in the past, and he did not want to think she had changed in that respect. But there was a big difference between giving freely and being forced to give at the point of a weapon.
Moreover, he would be more than just embarrassed if he proved to be an incompetent protector in front of her. He would rather be struck down by the outlaws in her defense.
Being sure now that the young widow was indeed the love of his adolescent years, he found that he was unable to turn his eyes to her. He had not thought about her for a long time and therefore had assumed that he had long since gotten over this phase in his life. Only to have to realize now that nothing had changed regarding his feelings towards her. But he was no longer able to talk to her as casually as he had as a young man. At that time, it had pained him that he would never have a chance with her - and this not on account of what she would wish, but simply due to the fact that this was the way things were - nevertheless he had managed to enjoy her friendship. Apparently, he was no longer able to do so anymore.
And while he obviously could not have failed to realize how discourteous he was in dealing with her, that only increased his inability to act. He was well aware that he was the only member of this squad with whom she could have a conversation, yet he kept himself so far away from her that any talking was impossible. He was simply not in a position to do otherwise, partly as he was sure that she had recognized him as well and he could not believe that she still regarded him as favorably as she used to do. She was, after all, the daughter-in-law of a Baron and he was just a knight without any property. Certainly, she had to regard him with disdain.
His mood continued to deteriorate the longer they were on the road and he despaired at the thought of how much more time he would have to spend in her company. Kirklees was located beyond the northern border of the shire in Yorkshire and they would not be able to reach the monastery in one day. Probably not even in two or three days. At some point he would have no choice but to exchange at least a few words with her. In fact, he would like to tell her that he was glad to see her again, even if the cause for their encounter was not a pleasant one. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself to behave differently, he could not bring himself to do so.
"My Lord!" Gisburne was rather abruptly jolted out of his self-imposed dejection by the sergeant's voice. He was just about to give loud voice to his vexation at this disturbance, when - following the outstretched arm of his subordinate - he became aware that Lady Isabé had brought her mare to a halt and therefore already seemed to be quite a distance away from him. In any case, the distance was greater than it had been before.
The knight had no choice but to stop as well, for he could not - and he would not - leave his charge behind. At the same time, he was frowning - probably without realizing doing so - and in that way showing everyone else his bewilderment at the young woman's behavior.
"My Lady, what has transpired?" he called out to her, unwilling to come any closer. But she did not respond to his words, and he could not discern anything from her facial expression either, as she had wrapped herself in her thick winter cloak with even her fur-trimmed hood pulled all the way forward into her face that hardly anything of her could be seen.
Gisburne could very well understand why she kept her cloak so tightly closed. Despite the bright sunshine, he too had gotten the impression that it was quite cold here in the forest. Strangely enough, it made no difference that most of the trees were bare of leaves - which was not really surprising, since they had just been through all the days of Christmas. He was of the opinion, that this was no time to go on a journey of several days, especially not with a woman who was obviously not well. But no one ever took any interest in his opinion.
The knight sighed. He knew that the only choice left to him at this point was to return to her if he wanted to learn what had caused her to stop.
"My Lady," he undertook another attempt to find out from her when he had arrived at her side. She merely reacted this time by lifting her head, but as she did so her hood slipped back and he was finally able to catch a glimpse of her face. To his amazement, he discovered that she did not give the impression of being unwell. When he glanced into her gray eyes, he realized straight away that she was angry. This was an expression he could still remember very well, even though he had not been exposed to it for many years.
"My Lady?" he tried once again to determine what her problem could be.
"Guy," she replied to him in a low voice, but not bothering about not showing him her ire. "You're avoiding me on purpose." There was no way he could misinterpret the accusation in her voice.
He sighed for a third time. Mainly on account of the fact that she was right, of course. After all, he had really been avoiding her on purpose. But he also sighed because he had realized right away that she expected an answer from him. And not some kind of pretext, but an honest explanation why he had acted the way he had. He also knew that he owed her that explanation.
"My Lady ..." he began, but he was immediately interrupted by a snort that did not fit a Lady at all.
"Don't give me that." She still came off sounding annoyed.
This time the knight managed to suppress the sigh. "Isabé," he started yet again, although he was not at all comfortable addressing another man's widow in such a familiar manner. That sort of behavior was just not proper. As a result, he did not express himself as courteously as he had intended.
"What do you expect from me? You know how I felt about you, but you're now another man's spouse." Gisburne fell silent quite abruptly, for at that moment it had dawned on him that this was not what he had intended to say.
His words, however, caused her anger to dissipate immediately. In its place something akin to relief spread across her face.
"Oh, Guy," she brought out, still speaking as softly as she had before. "Are we really going to let this have an impact on our friendship? I certainly hope not!"
Sir Guy felt his heartbeat quicken as he realized that Isabé still considered him to be a friend. At this point, he could not expect more from her. But perhaps there was hope for him at a later time?
He tried to rigorously push this thought aside, for he had already been hurt too many times. But when he realized that he was not able to do so, he did not know whether he should be glad about it or whether this was a reason for being scared.
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Gisburne was astonished as he realized that he considered the time it had taken them to reach the destination of the journey to be far too short. But after Lady Isabé had practically forced him to keep her company - and after he had overcome his shock - he then would have loved to talk to her for much longer.
This was not altered by the fact that the conversation with her caused him to stumble several times, of course only in a figurative sense. On a number of occasions, he had been unable to prevent himself from blurting out something that he had certainly not intended to say. Each time he had then to work hard to being able to rectify the situation. Only to find out every time anew that his charge obviously had not taken offense at what he had said. Since it was obvious to him that he would never have been able to react so equanimous, he was really amazed by her reaction.
There had even been moments - albeit very brief ones - when he desperately craved a distraction, of any kind. Even the outlaws would have been fine with him. However, this only resulted in him calling himself an idiot, and at one point he came close to using the term "coward" for himself, even though he always made such a point of not being afraid of anything. However, he could not avoid to admit to himself that this was not entirely true. This forest - Sherwood - had certainly taught him to be terrified, but this was not something he liked to think about. He was only glad that at least he had not mentioned this to Isabé, for it would have been simply too shameful to reveal being a knight who was scared of trees!
Her behavior on these occasions - that made him believe that they had managed to rekindle their old friendship – had a somewhat bittersweet effect on the knight, as he was unable to prevent a hope from surging up within him that he maybe could be able to make up for what he had been denied in the past. At the same time, however, he struggled with suppressing this sentiment, solely based on the knowledge of the many painful experiences he had had to go through in the last few years. These episodes had, of course, not left him unscathed and had led him to be averse to matters of love. If only his heart would be of the same opinion as his head in this respect.
By and by, though, Lady Isabé's casual manner had ensured that he talked to her quite at ease, no longer giving much thought to each of the words he uttered. It was in one of these instances, that for the first time it so happened that he voiced something that was quite embarrassing to him.
"I've been trying to forget you," was actually not something he had wanted to say to the woman, of all people, who still held such an important place in his heart, even if he did not really want to admit this to himself. When he became aware that she responded to his words with a very puzzled expression, he prepared himself for a fierce retort - and her displeasure. But this then turned out quite differently as he could have imagined.
"But by any means you don't give me that impression, Guy," was all she said, surprisingly, thereby offering him the opportunity to explain himself to her.
"It ... it's not how ... it seems, my Lady. I just ... I didn't ... I didn't expect to ever see you again," he stammered, just barely managing to stop himself before he also confessed to her how painful this had turned out to be for him.
His words made Lady Isabé grant him a smile, the impact of which he could not evade.
Afterwards, he was content for the time being to listen to her talking about her life. He conceived this as a much easier way, even when she spoke about her marriage and her deceased husband. However, when she mentioned that he had preferred to join the battle rather than enjoy the presence of his wife - which had been his undoing in the end - he could not refrain from commenting. The words had left his lips before he had a chance to think about them.
"Serves him right!" As soon as he became aware of what he had just uttered, his face was flushed with shame, which deepened even more when Lady Isabé reacted to them with her charming laughter.
"That's exactly what I was thinking, too, Guy," she then admitted to him, apparently not in the least ashamed of her statement. But when she leaned over to him, he assumed that she had something to say about his comment after all, only to discover that he was once again wrong about her. What she had to say, in fact, was something completely different: "I even believe that this has crossed the Baron's mind as well. I admit that he is really a hard man, but as long as his wife had still been alive he never left her alone for too long. I am certain that in this respect he could never understand his son. Most probably also due to the fact that this has deprived my husband of the possibility of having sons of his own. However, at this time I am glad not to be burdened by children."
On hearing this pronouncement, Gisburne had to swallow at first, for until now he had assumed that every woman longed to become a mother. Nor had he interpreted the Baron's comments about the marriage not having been blessed with children in the sense that Lady Isabé's husband had shirked his duties. The knight simply could not understand why a man should ignore such a wonderful woman. He was sure that he would never have acted in such a manner. But, of course, he was unable to prove that, for no one wanted to give him a chance to show what a good husband he would be. But he was also surprised by Isabé's statement about the Baron, as he had never thought of him in that way.
Most likely this was to blame for the fact that he then again uttered something he would have preferred to keep to himself. "The Sheriff has no use for women. At times I get the impression he's afraid of them." As soon as these words had passed his lips, he realized that his companion had once again managed to draw him out, since he had always been very careful about what he chose to say about his master in public. De Rainault reacted quite strongly to such comments - which should not be surprising to anyone - and had made his deputy aware of this in a very painful manner. Gisburne could only hope at this moment that Lady Isabé would keep his words to herself. He would be more comfortable if he could be really confident in this regard, but even though he knew very well that he would not have doubted her in the past, he had by now been disappointed too often by people he had trusted.
"Not like yourself, Guy. You've never been afraid of anything," was all she said to that, though, and he noticed that the remark did him much good.
However, it was not entirely true, and he trusted her well enough to tell her so. He was surprised that it was not too difficult for him to admit this to her.
The Lady gave a nod. "I know," she then replied to him in a very soft voice. "I do remember." She said no more, but he knew at once she was referring to Sir Edmund. The very memory of him silenced him for a time.
Isabé, who was of course not unaware of this, initially remained silent as well, until she then rather abruptly tore him out of his unpleasant memories with a question about the valley they were just riding through.
He enjoyed sharing his knowledge about the area through which their path took them. He was proud of how well he knew the shire. Moreover, it kept him from inadvertently mentioning the feelings he was trying to suppress for the same reasons he had tried to forget about Isabé herself. He had not wanted to all over again have to go through the painful experience of having his heart broken.
Probably this was also why he had not wanted to give a thought to what the destination of this journey was. It was only when the walls of the convent came into view that he was once again reminded of where he was taking the Lady Isabé - at the request of her father-in-law. Before them there lay the Abbey of Kirklees, one of the better-known nunneries in the north of England. Above all, it was known for being a retreat for noble women who wanted to withdraw from the world. The donations brought by these women had made the convent rich and as a result the nuns had nothing to do but spend their days in prayer. On the other hand, a large number of lay sisters made sure that this life would not get too strenuous. They had also to make sure that the tranquility prevailing behind these walls would not be disturbed. He had heard that a nun had no longer any desire to return into the world and in his experience, that was indeed true of most of them. However, he was equally well aware that there were exceptions. But he knew that Isabé was not the kind of person who could be dissuaded from a decision.
As these thoughts entered his mind, they made all his hopes vanished and from one moment to the next he fell silent, for what he had feared all along had now come to pass. Again, a woman had managed - with ease - to break his heart and this time it was even worse for him than the other times, for this woman had always occupied a special place in his heart - even if he had tried to forget her. He had struggled to dissuade himself from such considerations, and yet, he had gotten his hopes up all over again.
But he also realized in this instant that he had only to blame himself for being so devastated, since he had known from the beginning where they were headed. It was inexcusable that he had forgotten about this and had thus brought this suffering upon himself.
"Guy?"
The attempt of his companion to get his attention, made him aware that he had to shake off his numbness in order to be able to face her.
"My Lady?" he responded to her.
She was not allowed to learn what was going on in his mind, for this would be too shameful. But he also did not want to tell her about it since otherwise he would have insinuated that she had encouraged him in some manner. This would not be fair to her.
Therefore, he did not give her a chance to say anything. "I'm glad we made this trip without any incidents," he uttered the first thing that came to mind, only to realize immediately that it made him appear as if he was relieved to have finally arrived at this place. Nothing could be further from the truth. "But I wouldn't have minded if it had lasted even longer, either." For these words, he was rewarded with a smile, though it caused him a pang, as he had to keep in mind that he probably would not see this very often in the future.
"Even though I enjoyed talking with you, Guy, I am glad to have finally gotten to here. You can't imagine how much I've been longing to reach Kirklees."
She was absolutely right about this, since he had not wanted to think about the fact. He had managed to successfully suppress it, although this could also be due to the fact that Isabé had not brought it up even once.
He did not know what to reply to her words. He had never been able to understand for what reasons someone wanted to retreat behind the walls of a monastery, no matter whether man or woman. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that he knew Abbot Hugo, a person who in this respect had made not a very good impression on him. On the other hand, he was well aware that many nunneries were doing good. Nevertheless, he found it odd to shut oneself off from the world in such a manner, and even odder that Isabé could have chosen to pursue such a course. He was not capable of imagining something like this, and yet he was aware that there was no point in evading the truth.
"Then I am of course very pleased to have brought you to this place without you being harmed, Isabé," he therefore just allowed himself to state in response to her remark.
Before she could express herself any further, the gate of the monastery was opened and an elderly nun stepped out to them, immediately eying the knight with suspicion, only to then turn to his charge - without addressing him.
"Lady Isabé," she commenced, "we were expecting you to arrive some time yesterday." There was more than a hint of reproach in her voice.
"I didn't want to be completely spent," his companion countered, somewhat put on the defensive.
"If you get worn out so quickly, you should not have been allowed to ride, my Lady!" At these words, the nun fixed her eyes again on the knight, making him see her displeasure in no uncertain terms.
"It was my personal preference," Isabé jumped to his rescue before he even had a chance to open his mouth.
"In that case, your escort should at least help you off your horse at this point!" Gisburne had the impression that he was standing in front of the Sheriff, who was once again reprimanding him for his transgressions - real and pretended. Unfortunately, he had to admit to himself that in this case, the nun was right. By now he should have done his duty.
"Sister!" The tone in which Lady Isabé now spoke came out rather harsh. "If you hadn't stopped Sir Guy with your chatter, I would have already been given the opportunity to pass through that gate. You haven't turned out to be particularly helpful." She focused again on the knight, not caring if the nun had anything to say in return. "Sir Guy, would you please aid me."
Gisburne leapt off his horse as if he had not also been exhausted from the journey. He would not again subject himself to the accusation that he was not fulfilling his obligations. A moment later, Lady Isabé was standing on the ground as well.
She looked up at him with gratitude. "Even though I'm actually quite exhausted, that doesn't give this woman the right to snap at you. I just expect better behavior from a nun." She took a deep breath. "I've longed to come here, but that doesn't mean I'm going to put up with everything." But even though her words had a defiant ring to them, she had taken care to speak so softly that only he could hear her.
"It's all right, Isabé," he replied just as quietly. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting." He could not, after all, admit to her that he had hesitated on purpose in order to be able to spend a few more moments with her. In doing so, he had completely failed to notice how unwell she was. That was unforgivable.
"This is where we must part now, Guy. From here on I must go on by myself. Still, you should remember that this is not the end of the world." Once more she looked at him insistently, and he detected some affection in her eyes. At that moment he had the impression that a fist was closing around his heart and the resulting pain made it momentarily impossible for him to answer her.
But he had not learned to deal with pain from an early age for nothing, so it did not really take long for him to again get a grip on himself.
"I'm glad I managed to get you to here safely, Isabé, to a place you wanted so badly to come to. Your happiness is important to me."
"Thank you, Guy. You are a true friend."
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The last few months had certainly not been a time of joy for Sir Guy, yet all the occurrences he had had to deal with had also ensured that he did not get to reflect too often on one particular person whom he had escorted to Kirklees during the last winter. When he did start giving a thought to her, he would realize right away why he avoided any thought about her so rigorously, for every time he did, it was again as if a fist would squeeze his heart.
However, over the period of the last six months these recollections had not been needed to make him suffer pain and humiliation in ample measure. The idiotic venture, in which the Earl of Gloucester had dragged him, would alone have been reason enough for any other to descend into madness, while for him it had become almost something ordinary to be used as a scapegoat for the harebrained schemes of someone else. Apparently, everyone involved in his life was of the opinion that he could be insulted and humiliated with impunity. Many would have probably deemed it an existential crisis to be spat upon by a queen, but he had perceived it as far worse to realized that he was the one on the wrong side of the law and Robin Hood, of all people, had to defend the King against him. To think that everything had only occurred due to the fact that his liege lord and his liege lord's daughter had had to drag him into this lunacy and he had not known how to stay out of it.
But the matter of stealing the holy relic from Croxden Abbey had then turned out to be the culmination - or rather the lowest point - in recent months. Not only had he allowed himself to be persuaded by de Rainault to commit such an act in the first place - at that point he had seen no other way to make his master more favorable again – there he also encountered his mother. After he became aware that not only Lady Margaret but also Robin Hood was remaining in that place, he should probably have just dropped the whole thing. In any case, he should not have been surprised that afterwards everything went awry. And the reception the Sheriff gave him then in Nottingham was not something he liked to think back on, but de Rainault had made sure that he could not forget it so easily. The pain had accompanied him for quite a while.
In fact, he had considered it a blessing that the Sheriff had to let him go for a while after the news of Lady Margaret of Gisburne's death had reached Nottingham. Contrary to his previously reached decision not to devote too much time to his mother's funeral, he stayed away from Nottingham for several weeks. Most of the time he had indeed to occupy himself with the affairs of the deceased, but still he enjoyed the opportunity not to have to deal with de Rainault, nor with the man's brother, but also not with Robin Hood. So, at first he did not mind at all that he had to spend this time at Gisburne, the run-down estate of his hated stepfather. This was different only after the last will and testament had been read out, by which he learned that he would have to take over the property after all - with all the debts that rested on it and with all the negative memories that he harbored about the place. His mother had made sure that he could not refuse the inheritance and thus chained him to de Rainault for the rest of his life. All he could do at that point was to hope that for once in his life he would get lucky and Robin Hood would kill him the next time he rode through Sherwood. He had not been left with anything else.
Unfortunately, he never got to see the slightest bit from the outlaws on his journey back to Nottingham, let alone that they were so obliging as to put him out of his misery. Then again, it was probably too much to ask of them; after all, they had never done what he expected of them. He might even have laughed at the entire affair if he had not been in such a miserable state.
It should not have surprised him that the Sheriff ambushed him immediately - as soon as he had set foot in the Great Hall - with another assignment. If the knight had seen any possibility, he would have turned it down on the spot, but that was beyond him. It struck him bitterly when he realized that his mother had made sure that he could never again defy the Sheriff, not even in small matters.
"You have no time to rest, Gisburne. You must leave for Kirklees at once. I was of the belief you would be back by last week, for I am quite sure that is what we had discussed. The Abbess will not be pleased with the delay."
The knight could suppress a sigh only with great difficulty. Kirklees, of all places, when for months he had been trying not to think about this place.
Instead, he inquired, "And what should I tell the Abbess, my Lord?"
"How should I know, Gisburne? The old hag asked me weeks ago when you would be back and I told her that would be a week ago. And now you have proved me wrong. For this reason, you will set off again forthwith. Without dawdling, as you like to do."
Since both the Sheriff's facial expression and his tone evoked notions of unpleasant consequences, the knight decided to make a tactical retreat, once again struggling to suppress a sigh.
"Of course, my Lord," he managed to get out just before he hurried to his chamber to get ready without any delay - what an insinuation, that he would always dawdle! - for another journey that might be as awful as the one that had taken him to his mother's funeral. Being alone for the moment, this time he did not have to suppress his sigh.
It was only a short time later that he found himself on the road once again, but this time not on his beloved stallion, since he would actually deserve some time in the paddock. He would have been more than happy to give him that, but he was reluctant to leave the beast in Nottingham as he always had the nasty suspicion that he would not get him back on his return. Instead, he had decided to take him and another spare horse with him, but to ride one of the mares that were made available to the soldiers of the garrison. By doing so, he could also show to the Sheriff that he was willing to get to Kirklees quickly, even though he did not really intend to do so. There was nothing that drew him to this place and without his master's command, he would have avoided it like the plague.
But he was not allowed to take too much time on the way either, for then he would have to fear that word about his actions would get back to the Sheriff. This was something the knight had to avoid at all costs, otherwise it could get very unpleasant for him. This was not something he longed for.
His mood deteriorated with every hour he got closer to the monastery. As a result, he responded rather rudely when, upon his arrival at Kirklees, he was told that the Mother Superior did not have time for him at that very moment and that he would have to wait. Had she not been the one who had requested of the Sheriff that he should come as quickly as possible?
"Bloody hell..." The words had already slipped from his lips before he could stop himself, knowing, to be sure, exactly where he was and who was standing in front of him. The face of the nun who had informed him of the Abbess's ruling had turned as white as a freshly bleached sheet, but still that did not make the knight want to apologize to her. It only made him hold back.
After the nun had recovered from her shock, she then begged him– albeit in a shaky voice - to follow her into the garden. Before he got another chance to express himself, she had already left at a fast pace.
However, she had just only left the garden when the knight - impelled by boredom and filled with an impatience for escaping this place once again - had already begun to explore the open area in between the buildings, planted with bushes and small trees. It served, quite obviously, the sole purpose of providing the convent's residents with a place for respite. In all honesty, he had to admit that he had not expected to come across anything like this in a monastery. He wondered then if this garden was perhaps reserved only for certain people, as he simply could not imagine the lay sisters being allowed to withdraw to it.
It was not long before he earnestly started to ask himself whether he could afford to leave here just yet, even though he had been being ordered by the Sheriff to come here. In the process, he pondered also whether the consequences of such a decision could be worse than remaining in this place where his heart had been broken - ultimately and eternal. He had not yet reached a decision, however, when angry voices reached him from beyond the garden. The quarrelers - apparently two in number - were probably on the other side of a wall, and for him to be able to hear them, their argumentation must have gotten quite loud. One of the voices sounded very familiar to him, even though he had to go back many years to remember that he had experienced this person to be so enraged.
Isabé.
"It's not your place to tell me what to do with my life!" she hissed.
The knight was sure that this was not the way a novice should actually talk. Without giving it a second thought, he moved closer to the ivy-covered wall behind which he suspected the two women to be standing.
"You're throwing your life away, my Child. After all, you're fine with us," replied the other one, who was obviously trying to regain some measure of control over her emotions.
"Only a short time ago you yourself were of the opinion that I should leave the convent, Mother Superior!", Isabé reproached the woman.
'Oh, no,' crossed Sir Guy's mind. How could Isabé ever have gotten the idea of arguing with the Abbess? It was only then that he grasped the implications of her words. Why would she want to leave the convent at all? He was perplexed, for had she not come here to turn her back on the world?
"At that time, I didn't know what you were up to out there either, my Child." So far the older woman had not yet managed to calm down.
"I came here with the intention of recovering ..." the younger one went on, but she was immediately interrupted by the Abbess.
"And you could just show a little more gratitude for us giving you this opportunity," Isabé was reprimanded at this point.
"You didn't complain about what I brought with me, Mother Superior!" Guy had no trouble telling how angry the younger woman was. "I would have liked to show you more gratitude, but obviously you don't want that. However, you will not prevent me from leaving this convent on this day. I have already told you that the man who wants to marry me is waiting for me out there, and I am not willing to stay here any longer. Not this time when I am finally allowed to marry whomever I want. Open that door!" She had brought out the last sentence even more loudly than the rest.
'The man who wants to marry you, Isabé?' Shocked by these words, Gisburne was unable to move, even as directly in front of him a well-concealed door swung open and an elderly nun stepped through, in whom he recognized only a moment later the one who had reprimanded him six months ago for not paying enough attention to his charge.
The woman had obviously not expected the knight to be standing right in front of the wall, and hence her anger was directed at him.
"You took your time getting here. Where have you been loitering?" she snapped at him without showing him any respect.
At that point, the knight did not care who was standing in front of him or that he was in a monastery. Having already arrived in such a foul mood that he had been able to forget this for an instant, this was even more the case now.
"I am very sorry, Mother Superior, that my mother chose such an inconvenient time to die, so that I was forced to take care of her funeral," he flung at her, bringing her to a stop so abruptly that Isabé, who had come rushing through the door after her, almost bumped into the other woman. It was only at the last moment that she was able to prevent this.
Unlike the Abbess, who was apparently no longer capable of any utterance, the younger woman immediately offered some words of comfort, but Guy was not ready to hear them.
"What good are your words to me, my Lady. My mother has left me her husband's estate AND his debts, thereby chaining me to Nottingham for the rest of my life. A few kind words won't help." Once again he had not been able to restrain himself in Isabé's presence and had voiced what he had by no means wanted to express.
His words, however, had at least made sure that no one was willing to say anything else. For a long moment the three stared at each other before Isabé was the first to regain her composure.
"Since my escort has arrived, Mother Superior, I no longer wish to burden you with my presence. The repose in your monastery has enabled me to recuperate from my illness, so I desire now to resume my life. God's blessings upon you, Mother."
'Shouldn't the Abbess have said that?' passed through Gisburne's mind, who in the meantime had somewhat regained his composure. At least so far as to realize that once again he had come here to provide an escort for Lady Isabé. In this case, the journey was obviously taking her to her betrothed, who was waiting for her. The knight would have liked to turn around on the spot and storm off, but he reminded himself in time that he could not afford to do that.
"I will not hold you back, Lady Isabé," the Abbess finally managed to get out. "May God protect you, despite your decision." With the last words, she shot an angry look at Gisburne, which the latter failed to understand.
However, he had no time to ponder this any longer, for Isabé had already gotten so close to put her small warm hand on his arm. "Will you please take me out of here, Guy," she begged him in a low voice.
Once again her nearness broke any resistance he had wanted to put up to her and without giving it a second thought, he set off with her.
More quickly than he had anticipated, they were ready to depart the monastery. Guy assisted Isabé mounting her mare, jumped on Fury, grabbed the reins of the packhorse, and then set his steed in motion without saying goodbye to the Mother Superior or paying attention to whether his charge was following him. He was still terribly mad - even though he had granted Isabé's request - but he was also disappointed, and the last thing he really wanted to do was to deliver her to another man. Could his life get any worse?
Due to the fact that he was so preoccupied with his own emotions, he only realized that she was right by his side when she addressed him. Since they were alone this time - the Sheriff had neglected to tell him that he needed a larger escort - she did not have to lower her voice.
"I'm sorry about your mother," she began. "Is it really as bad about the inheritance as you mentioned to the Mother Superior?" she wanted to know next.
His head whipped around and he glared angrily at her, but this did not seem to bother her in the least. Since she did not react to his anger, he did not know what he had wanted to say suddenly and in a hurry he could think of nothing else than to answer her honestly.
"I have always prayed to be spared this inheritance, but my mother has made sure that I will be occupied in repaying Sir Edmund's debts for the rest of my life. I have only one wish regarding the creditors and that is that I may soon meet my death, so that they will be left with their debts." It did occur to him how this must seem, but he refused to take back his words.
"I can't believe you really mean that," his companion replied, but the knight was no longer interested in discussing the subject any further.
"The Baron doesn't mind you remarrying so soon after his son's death?" he wanted to know from her instead.
"So soon?" She looked at him, aghast. "The year of mourning has ended a few weeks ago. Besides, the Baron doesn't have any say in that either. My father was not just going to get rid of me back then when he arranged my marriage. He insisted on including in my marriage contract that I could decide for myself if and whom I wanted to marry, should my marriage be ended without children. He also made sure that I would receive my inheritance for my own disposal, without any man being able to meddle with me. And you may remember that my father was quite wealthy, so I am well provided for. The Baron, moreover, is honorable enough to abide by this agreement."
He had not expected such a statement, and he felt jealous of the stranger who had managed to capture Isabé's heart. That one was truly a lucky man.
"Where shall I escort you to now, my Lady?" he inquired with cold formality.
But once again, he failed to elicit more than a glance from her, which in addition gave him the impression that she considered him an imbecile. But when she realized that he was serious about his question, she sighed.
"I was hoping you would tell me, Guy," she replied to him subsequently.
Utterly baffled, he brought Fury to a halt, forcing her to rein in her mare as well. "Why should I? You must know the whereabouts of the man waiting to marry you."
She sighed once again, but she was not the kind of person who would let obstacles force her to turn back. "Oh Guy, I wish you hadn't heard anything that I said in my quarrel with the Abbess." She fell silent for a moment. "Or you would have heard more of it."
"So, you were not going to tell me that you were to be married until we reached this journey's destination, Isabé?" he demanded to know then, even though his words pained him.
"You're an idiot!"
This was certainly not what he had wanted to hear from this woman. Anyone else he would have ditched on the spot, but he could not just abandon her like that.
"What gives you the right to speak to me in such a manner?" he snapped at her nonetheless, whereupon she broke into giggles – rather unexpected.
"Are you sure you have recovered in a sufficient way in the monastery?" He was not able to refrain from the next question, as her behavior had left him rather puzzled.
"Oh Guy, if anyone would listen to us, they'd have to assume we'd been married for years." She looked at him affectionately. "Don't you understand that you're the man who wants to marry me, Guy?"
Before he had a chance to do more than stare at her open-mouthed, she had pulled his head down to her and sealed his lips with a passionate kiss.
It was no wonder that thereafter he no longer felt the need to say anything. At that moment, he also did not care if they could still be seen from the monastery. At this point nothing could bother him. Absolutely nothing.