The Consequence of Loyalty
By Cynthia Burnett
Chapter 8
Locksley Manor
"My lord," exclaimed Thornton as he knocked on Gisborne's door. "Please, come quickly."
Startled awake, Gisborne bolted upright. A repeated pounding on the door confirmed he was not dreaming, so he jumped out of bed. Sleeping in just his underpants, he quickly grabbed a black shirt to throw on before opening his door.
"What is it?" Sir Guy asked with a hoarse voice. "He isn't dying, is he?" Without waiting for an answer he took off for Much's room.
Trying to keep up, Thornton held the candle high enough to light the way for his master. "Emely and Thomas were looking after him. He believes that he is still in the Holy Land, and that he was wounded in a fight with the Turks. I don't know how, but he managed to get out of bed and is holding Thomas by the throat." Thornton stopped just shy of the door upon hearing Much yelling inside.
"Where is Robin? I just left him!" Much's voice trembled with distress.
Gisborne paused next to the door. "He should be weak in his condition. Thomas is a strong young man, can't he just beak free of the man's grip?"
Thornton placed a hand on the doorjamb, and then turned around to face his master. "Men lost in feverish dreams have unimaginable strength. He truly believes he is in the Holy Land. I fear he may harm Thomas if the young boy tries to wrestle himself free." Thornton handed Gisborne a hood that he had been carrying. "Please, my lord. I ask that you pretend to be Robin, just long enough to get Much to release Thomas. Then we can deal with trying to get him back into his bed."
The noble stood with the dark grey hood in his hand. "You want me to wear this?" He asked with a hint of repugnance.
Both men suddenly heard Emely pleading with the sick man. "Much, please, you need to understand that we are not going to harm you. You are home in Locksley, not in the Holy Land."
"No, you're trying to trick me! We have been fighting the Turk and protecting the King. Robin promised he would not leave me here. Where is he?" Much's anxious voice spread throughout the manor. "It's hot and I'm tired of fighting. I must find Robin!"
Resigned, Gisborne placed the hood over his head, covering his face and nodded to Thornton. The steward entered the room with a sweeping entrance that succeeded in wiping out two of the candles that lit the room.
"I have found him. He was not gone, just in an audience with the King." Thornton's gaze fixed on the door, and finally, Gisborne entered, not at all pleased to be carrying out a charade for the benefit of one of his servant's life. His eyes rested on Much and Thomas in the corner of the room. Much's stranglehold on the boy was severe. Any more pressure could crush the larynx.
"Much, what are you doing?" Gisborne asked, in a soft, admonishing voice. He could not fathom how this pretense was going to work. He sounded nothing like Robin, and stood several inches taller than the outlawed nobleman.
"Robin?" Much questioned. Gisborne adjusted his hood so his face was hidden. A sudden wave of pity coursed through his gut when he spotted the dark circles around the young man's eyes, and the pale hue of his complexion even in the dim candlelight.
Lifting his hands towards them, Gisborne commanded in a soft but firm tone, "Much, let Thomas go, he's only here to help." A look of confusion crossed Much's face, but to Gisborne's relief, he released his grip on Thomas, who managed to pull away. The boy started coughing as soon as he was able to get enough air into his lungs, as he ran quickly out of the room.
Gisborne's steady gaze from beneath the hood kept affixed on Much, especially now that he had his full attention. Much's shoulders fell. "Are you angry with me?" the servant asked.
Shaking his head, Gisborne questioned, "Why would I be angry with you?"
Grabbing the bed for support, Much lowered his head. "Sir Edric and Sir Philip… I was in your line of fire when the Turks attacked. I tried to move, but…" Much shook his head. "When I heard you yelling, I hit the ground as soon as I could, but it was too late. They are dead, aren't they?"
Gisborne did not know the truth, but it seemed that in all likelihood, the answer was yes, so he responded with a nod.
The answer seemed to take all of the energy that Much had, and if not for the quick movement of Thornton, the young man would have hit the floor.
Through tears, Much managed to say, "I'm sorry." With little fight left in him, Much allowed the two servants to guide him back to bed. Emely held up a cup of water, of which Much drank several swallows before returning his gaze to Gisborne.
Unsure of what to say now, Gisborne began rationalizing the deaths himself. "It is the tragedy of war, Much. Men die."
"But you can do amazing things, Robin. I have seen them. You have saved us more than once by doing the impossible. The king knows this. He has said on many occasions that you are his best archer." As Much spoke, Emely raised his shirt, examining the injury in the dim light. "I don't remember being wounded." Slowly, Much's head lolled back against his pillow, but he jumped when Emely's hand tugged at the bandage.
"Shhh…" she said. "I need to look at it." With careful fingers, she exposed the wound.
"How is it?" Gisborne questioned, trying to stay out of the light from the candle Thornton held over the bed.
Thornton sighed, "It is bleeding again. We might need to tie him down to make sure he doesn't get back out of bed."
"What? No!" Much exclaimed. "I'll stay in my bed. I promise!" He looked to Gisborne. "Robin, you aren't going to let them do this, are you?"
Beneath his hood, Gisborne smiled. He did not have to be the bad guy this time. It would be Robin's doing. Nodding to Thornton, he added, "He needs to recover. Do what you have to in order for him to stay still."
Emely handed Thornton a fresh bandage. Each servant succeeded in tying Much's wrist while the injured man protested, trying to yank his arms away from the servants. "This is not fair."
Thornton tried to reassure the young man. "We need to do this to keep you in bed. If you manage to rip your stitching during your fevered dreams, you could die."
These words struck Much hard. "Die?"
Thornton nodded, "Yes, die. Your wound appears to have held its stitching from your little escapade, but it is dumb luck. If you get out bed again before it heals, you may rip the wound open, allowing infection to brew."
Much became very calm and made it easier for Emely and Thornton to finish tying off the cloth strips underneath each side of the bed.
With the deed done, Gisborne felt that the need for the charade no longer mattered. Pulling off his hood, he walked closer to Much and the servants.
Much glanced up to witness a stranger standing where he thought Robin had been. The sight of the dark-haired noble sent images and memories racing through his mind. The servant remembered returning with Robin to Locksley. He remembered Robin rescuing four young men from a hangman's noose. The man who stood over his bed had stolen Robin's lands, his title. His heart wanted to ask for Robin, but suddenly, he realized Robin was not there, that he had never been there. It had been Gisborne.
"You? It was you all along?" Much groaned as he pulled against his restraints.
"I see that you are back with us. Enjoy your trip back to the Holy Land?" Gisborne asked as he looked down with a cold smile.
"Robin will kill you, you know that. He is not a man you want to cross more than once." Much tried to relax as he started to get lightheaded from his exertion.
Gisborne tossed the hood back to Thornton. Before turning to leave, he glanced back at Much, and responded. "As long as you belong to me, he will not dare an attempt against my life. Remember that the next time you try to escape, I will be sure to kill you myself. At least I will have that one satisfaction before facing your master for the last time." A smirk crossed his face. "One way or the other, I'm sure that one of us will not walk away from that meeting."
As Sir Guy left the room, Much wanted to scream. Instead, he just balled his fingers into fists, banging them silently on the mattress. The tight restraints did not allow for much movement. After looking up to Thornton and Emely who both wore sorrowful expressions, Much felt helpless. He watched Emely return to the seat next to his bed as Thornton alsodeparted. Not another word was uttered as she began to bathe his forehead again with a damp, cool cloth. Again, Much closed his eyes, resigned to rest and face Gisborne another day. He would not give the noble the satisfaction of his death. Robin needed him, and he needed to live. Where there was life, there was hope. He had to trust that Robin would come up with a way to get him out.