Chapter 25: "Get out of my way!"
"My lord, please!" The youngster pulled at Gisborne's leather coat trying desperately to rouse the knight from his drunken stupor.
"My lord, she's calling!"
"Let her call; the stupid cow." The words were thick and slurred, nearly unintelligible, but the boy ignored them, wedging his shoulder beneath Guy's arm and finally lifting him to a sitting position.
"She's blacker than ever I've seen her, my lord!" The lad feared disturbing Guy in the midst of drink, but even more he feared the witch-woman in the Sheriff's chamber. She could just look at you and make the blood boil in your veins – she said so!
"Leave me alone," the drunken man demanded.
"Please, my lord." At last the boy succeeded in getting Gisborne to his feet.
A clay pitcher sat on the window ledge; Guy emptied it over his own head, the chill of it clearing some of the fog from his brain. He wiped his eyes and stumbled out into the hall behind the terrified youth.
Like some staring, wooden goddess Hildegard sat enthroned on Vasey's great bed, heaped over with all his finest spreads and quilts. Hildegard's dog, a huge black mastiff named Jupiter, growled menacingly from his place at her feet.
"You're wet!" She observed in disgust. "What? Have you pissed yourself, you drunken sot!"
Gisborne clenched his fists and slowly released his breath.
"Get this monster out of here," she ordered, alluding to the dog. "He needs a bath; he smells worse than you do!"
Under no circumstances would the knight demean himself so. Not only was dog-handling far beneath his station, but Jupiter was a savage beast and apt to bite him. "Fetch the kennel master!"
The young boy standing outside the doorway moved to obey, but Hildegard's screams froze him in place. "I don't have all day, Gisborne! Move that dog!"
Jupiter was as intelligent as he was deadly, and seemed aware the conversation concerned him. A growl rumbled in his massive throat and his ears flattened against his broad skull, his eyes fixed on the Sheriff's second.
Guy was totally disadvantaged. Being too unimaginative to entice the animal from its place, he was locked by a soldier's stubbornness into using force.
"Get it out of here!" The old beldame insisted, throwing a goblet at the miserable man's head.
Whether Hildegard's shrill voice or the clattering goblet precipitated it, the dog suddenly leapt toward Gisborne with a snap of his bone-crushing jaws, tail wagging. Guy could do nothing but give ground, shouting alternately for the beast to "Sit! Stay!" or "Lie down!"
Hildegard shrieked with delight as Guy's back met the wall again, terrorized. The lad finally ran for the kennel master for his sake much more than his lord's. He knew Guy's rage would eventually be vented upon the nearest, smallest person.
Hildegard jeered and screeched, "You are a buffoon!"
The knight stood against the wall for what seemed an eternity, fearing even to breathe. He recalled vividly the gruesome sight of a man being torn apart by dogs; he had ordered it.
At last Garth, the kennel master, appeared and took in the scene at a glance – proud Sir Guy reduced to a trembling wreck before a playful dog.
"Jupiter! Bad boy." The handler approached easily and slipped a rawhide cord about the animal's neck. "He likes to play, my lord. I'm sorry if he gave you a fright," Garth apologized as the now-docile Jupiter licked his hand.
"I was NOT afraid of that cursed dog!" Jupiter's mane bristled at his tone, and Guy's back met the wall again. "Keep him in the yard from now on, or it will be your head!"
Garth did not wait to be told again, departing for the kennels immediately he planned to reward the frisky canine later with a fresh piece of meat.
Quiet at last, it dawned on Gisborne that Hildegard's laughter had ceased and it was an opportune moment to leave the chamber. "Get out of my way!"
The young servant was nowhere near, in fact, Gisborne had to take two steps out of his way to lay hands on him. With a savage jerk he flung the boy into the post at the head of the Sheriff's bed. Regaining his feet quickly lest he be within her reach, the boy lifted his eyes and looked directly into Lady Hildegard's mad, frozen stare. Bluish lips were curled back in a hellish grin, her pale eyes wide and unblinking.
"My lord," he whispered, crossing himself. "My lord!"
"What is it?"
"The lady…" Again the youngster made the sign of the cross.
"Speak, damn you!"
"My lord, she's…she is dead." Yet again he crossed himself.
"Are you sure?" Gisborne wouldn't retrace his steps without a guarantee.
The poor boy could only nod.
Approaching the bedside, Gisborne took hold of the face by its sunken chin. He studied it for a moment then tossed it back onto the pillows.
"What made her die, my lord?"
Gisborne ignored the question and strode from the chamber with a grin of self-satisfaction even thoughts of the Sheriff could not erase.
Chapter 26: "Did the Sheriff see her?"