Chapter 9: "Bait for a trap?"
Marian stood speechless before Mother Agnes. "Did you hear me, Marian?"
"Yes," she answered softly. "But, I cannot do it, Reverend Mother."
"Cannot? Have you not yet learned that through Christ all things are possible?" The question was kindly asked.
"You do not know how evil he is! The harm he has done to innocent people."
"It is not for us to judge, Marian. Was our Lord merciful only to the righteous?"
"No ma'am," the answer was spoken in a whisper.
"Let go of the past, Marian. Let the Lord's peace fill your mind and heart." Her hands were soft and they grasped Marian's warmly. "You are tormented by things that should be forgotten. You sought sanctuary here, for your father, so he could rest and grow strong. Peace and rest are here for you too, but until you can forgive, they will elude you. Embrace the peace child. You must forgive this man, no matter his sins."
"I cannot!" Marian insisted more forcibly.
"You can and you must. Go to him. Serve him. The Lord will give you strength."
Nodding, Marian made her way to the infirmary, her mind in a whirl. Go to Guy of Gisborne! The man surpasses any animal for cruelty and savagery! She entered the tiny cubicle in which the man had been deposited.
Gisborne was divested of his arms and weapons, attended only by one very young, very nervous novice. "Marian, I am so glad you've come." A sigh of profound relief spilled out with the acknowledgement.
"You have seen fevers before," Marian reminded her taking the basin of herbal water from the girl's trembling hands.
"Never a man, Marian, never a man! You have been…betrothed…so…." The overwrought novice caught herself at Marian's sudden shock. "I am sorry, it's just…I'm sorry!" She could say no more and quickly fled.
Marian turned her attention to Gisborne's writhing form, soaked with perspiration. She couldn't readily determine whether or not he was conscious. "Sir Guy, can you hear me?" He did not reply, but moved uneasily, moaning and clutching his side.
"Have you pain?" Marian asked the question, but she had no interest in his answer.
He stiffened with new suffering and struggled to force the words he must say.
The effects of the Sheriff's potion were intense. Had the sheriff been inclined to consult his herbalist, he may have discovered the mixture was unpredictable. The knight had no need to feign his delirium; he felt as though his brain were filled with a nest of buzzing hornets, each adding its sting to his agonizing pain.
Marian sat beside him, sponging his head, forcing her unwilling hands to obey. These hands that once caressed Robin now soothed his enemy. The man lying here attempted to kill King Richard and nearly killed her love, literally and figuratively. Since then he compounded many times his crimes against God and man. She wondered how many widows this arrogant, hateful man had made and found not a shred of pity within her heart, not any more. The realization sent a chill down her spine. I must forgive, she told herself; I must!
Mechanically continuing her ministration, Marian vacillated between thoughts of condemnation and the necessity for pardon. Someone entered the cubicle and she turned to see Mother Agnes.
"I have seen you more tender to a wounded animal, Marian."
"This one is less than that, Mother." Marian replied, lowering her head.
Under the watchful eye of the saintly woman, Marian forced words of comfort, urging the criminal to rest and lie easily.
"What is his ailment, can you tell?"
Marian bent over Guy and took time to observe him closely. He was flushed and there was something odd about his breathing. She bent closer still and became aware of an oddly familiar, strangely sweet odor on his breath. Where had she first come across it?
Gisborne grew more uneasy, tossing on the pallet and groaning, while in his mind a single voice – Vasey's voice – kept repeating, "I need you to speak, damnit!" Over and over the command was repeated and the knight struggled to comply.
"New…ark." Forcing one word was all Gisborne could manage.
"What of Newark?" Marian demanded.
"She's to die…Hilde…." In Guy's mind the message was given and received; he returned to unconsciousness.
As she listened, Marian again caught the odd scent that clung to him and suddenly she knew. Witch's blossom! She smelled it once before when she had been called to minister to a small child who had eaten some of its flowers. There had been fever and pain similar to what Guy was now experiencing, but not nearly so severe.
Smiling Marian thought someone tried to poison him! But he would recover, of that she was certain. Strange though, anyone with enough skill to prepare and administer the potion would be unlikely to miscalculate the dosage; wouldn't one normally prefer to give too much rather than too little if killing was the intended purpose? Marian knew the potion would burn the tongue and most assuredly would be detected in any drink….
"What is it?" The Reverend Mother asked, interested in knowing the reason for Marian's puzzlement.
"The Sheriff is up to something…" She snapped her fingers, "I am sure of it!"
"What do you mean, Marian?"
"I do not know… exactly..." She paused, "…it is a...suspicion. I think the patient's illness may be intentional."
"You think he has been poisoned?" Mother Agnes did not conceal the surprise in her voice.
"Duped, more like. Bait for a trap."
"A trap, for whom?"
"Robin Hood."
The Reverend Mother straightened, her shoulders back, "Always Robin Hood on your mind, child." Her point was punctuated by the disappointment in her voice.
"Were I to give that message, Robin would certainly go to Newark and try to warn the lady, whoever she is." Coldly she eyed Gisborne again. "Had the Sheriff used any other mixture, I would never have suspected." Marian rose as if to leave.
"Marian!" The abbess chastised her, "where are you going?"
"He needs no further care. In a few hours he will recover completely." The younger woman seemed to flow through the doorway, her blue novice robes unfurling behind her like a flag in the wind.
Mother Agnes overtook her along the path spanning the inner court. "You know child, regardless of his reason for being here, you are obliged to forgive the man, for your own sake Marian, more than his."
"I know, Mother. I am seeking after it, truly. It's just that…."
"To forgive is the most difficult of tasks. But it is not impossible."
Marian bowed her head and formed a silent prayer for strength. A part of her longed to be like this saintly nun who possessed the essence of true peace; Mother Agnes reached a plateau that knew no highs or lows, just the day to day sameness of uninterrupted calm, seeing all people as souls accountable to God without regard to estate. By the time Marian raised her head, the Reverend Mother had gone.