Margaret Thornton; Thanks for your kind words, I appreciate it.
Fiamma71; I'm glad you like it, thank you for all your reviews and support.
Greenveilbride; Thanks. Yes, it does take awhile Robin to 'grow up,' as you put it, more in the actual series. It is difficult to give Guy a redemption without Robin's father stepping in but still possible. Tuck does feel some degree of sympathy towards Guy but as far as a redemption is concerned, giving a straight answer would be a bit of a spoiler.
Chapter 9; The Murderer and the Madman
The dawn light woke Guy up early from the little sleep he had gained. In fact, he wasn't sure if he had slept at all. Tuck took over half the night with his talking and the crossbow the other. Guy couldn't stop staring at the weapon and running his fingers across the smooth dark wood. The Saracens were truly master craftsmen. He wondered how his father came by such a weapon. It was beyond price. Reluctantly, the former knight tore his eyes away from the crossbow and got dressed. He spared himself his travelling clock and donned his usual, imitating leather.
'Today was going to be a busy day.' He thought. Soon his uncle would come knocking at Guy's door asking for refuge. Guy was looking forward to the moment where he would act as the Lord of Locksley as he once was, and reject him just like he had done when Guy was young. And of course it would be a brilliant opportunity to try out his new crossbow if things got nasty, which they were bound to. It was indeed going to be a busy day, but a good one at least.
Gisborne gazed out the window. Along the path a trail of dust slithered into the sky like a snake winding up a tree. The sun had risen over the tree-covered hills, flecking the sky with a combination of pinks and reds. 'Red sky at morning, shepherds warning.' Guy recalled his mother saying that to him on a number of occasions. He usual thought it meant rain, but today there was something different. He was an outlaw. Guy had to keep reminding himself that he couldn't simply waltz into anywhere he pleased. And of course there was both Hood and the sheriff to be cautious about.
'It couldn't be long now.' Guy thought to himself with growing impatience. He wasn't a sadist, but this time he couldn't wait to get revenge. The dust storm was getting closer. He loaded six bolts carefully into the crossbow, then twisted it till it gave a healthy click. He slung it over his back, ready to be whipped out into action at a moment's notice. The thundering of a thousand horses hooves rapidly grew louder then stopped.
"I am here to see the Lord of this village." Gareth cried, dismounting from his horse, his plated armour clinking loudly. Guy hurried outside. "You are staring at him." He answered, striding into the open. Gareth's face broke into a false smile. "Well if it isn't my favourite nephew." He bellowed, opening his arms to embrace him. The hatred in Guy's eyes was enough to stop his uncle in his tracks. "You have lost the right to call me that when you stole my land." Guy growled. His uncle, however, was unaffected by the waves of anger bouncing off Guy. "Oh come now, why be so cold, nephew? There was a famine and I was looking after it till the famine was gone. Are we not family? We have to look after each other, since the tragic death of your mother and father, God bless their souls." Gareth made the sign of the cross. "Don't play games with me, Gareth. Why did you come here?!" He snarled. It was strange to think that the man standing in front of Guy was his only living relative, yet distributing at the same time.
"For the same reason you came to me many years ago. I have an army to feed and house, horses that need tending to. I lost the land in France. Stolen from me by some rich lord. You know how it feels to have something taken that belonged to you. To be know that someone higher is in control of your fate, and then suddenly all the power on earth is rendered useless. Won't you let an old man stay for a couple of nights? For your mother sake?"
Guy stared at him with skepticism, his hand gripping the sword-hilt firmly. Was he completely out of his mind? Did he think that Guy would take him in after all he had done? Did he think that playing on a conscience that Guy didn't have would even work?
"You must think I'm a fool. I am not the same man who came begging to you years ago. I've tortured people, murdered in cold blood and gone as far to try and kill King Richard. Ask any of these people and they will tell you that. Now, I suggest you stop begging and take yourself and your army of rats out of here or I will chase you down and kill you myself."
Gareth said nothing. He merely stood there, with a smirk across his face. "You see here, dear nephew. I wasn't begging, I was giving you a warning. My army of rats outnumbers your army of, well, nothing. Now I'm only going to do this once, just for your mother's sake- I'm going to let you live. My men here however, will teach you a lesson, it's up to you whether you listen to it. Oh dear nephew don't look at me like that. Maybe some day we can get to know each other better." He babbled, then turned to his guards and shouted in French. The six of them drew their swords wordlessly. Gareth walked away, a smug look on his face. Finally the chance had come, yet Guy did not enjoy the moment as he thought he would. Gareth's words had left him annoyed. Guy drew his crossbow, hesitating at first. His father was the last man to use it. He could almost picture him, in the blazing Sun, with the hot white sand, shooting down wave after wave of human flesh. Then Guy took aim and pulled the trigger. One of the men fell dead, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The others were getting closer to him, too close for comfort. He slid the wood back then forward, giving a click to let Guy know that another deadly bolt was in place. One by one, he shot them down, leaving the witnesses in awe at the efficiency and beauty of the weapon. Guy's eyes quickly did a sweep of the battle field. Five corpses littered the ground. 'Five? That can't be right?' Guy thought. He turned around. One of the soldiers had climbed on the roof. He jumped, ready to kill Guy but he managed to sidestep the flying soldier and shot him, the bolt coming lodged in his neck. Guy reloaded his crossbow then looked around for his mad uncle, who was about to mount his horse. "Gareth!" He shouted. Gareth stopped, and turned to face Guy, a mad smile on his face. "Come and fight me, you coward." Guy continued to yell. The same mad recklessness that kept getting him into trouble returned to him with a vengeance. Adrenaline rushed all over his body. Gareth would pay for what he did to him. "What do you call me?" He whispered, but it still managed to echo throughout Locksley. "You're a coward. You think you can imitate me so easily? Let's end this here." Guy continued to challenge.
"My axe." Gareth commanded, clearing his throat. One of his men scuttled up to him, handing him the large battle-axe. "Guy, you are a fool. I will tear the beating heart out of your body." Gareth threatened, walking calmly into striking distance. "Save your words for when I send you into hell." Guy snapped back. He swung his sword, determined to kill his uncle. Gareth blocked with his axe, the sound of metal striking metal was sent echoing throughout Nottingham. Furious, Guy continued his flurry of attacks and each time they were blocked effortlessly Gareth, wielding the axe as though it was as light as a feather. Guy paused for a second, to catch his breath. Gareth put on his helmet, then dropped the visor down with a gauntleted hand. Now it was Gareth's turn to attack. He lifted the axe above his head, ready to split Guy in two. Guy saw the attack coming and blocked it. He knew his uncle was strong but he had no idea how strong until now. Guy barely managed to keep hold of his sword and the force of the attack threw him off balance. Gareth swung his axe again, trying to behead his opponent. Guy ducked just in time. Guy stabbed again, but Gareth stepped to the side, the tip of the blade missing him by a hairs breathd. Sweat was pouring off both their brows like a flooded river in winter. Guy retreated slightly, shaking his brains by the ankle to try and find a way to defeat him. Truth be told, Guy had never encountered anyone who fought like his uncle. In fact, he had never encountered anyone who welded an axe with such efficiency and power. Gareth charged forward for one final assault. Guy held his sword horizontally, gripping the top of the blade to reinforce it against the onslaught. The moment the axe met the resisting object, Guy felt his blade crack in two. His heart sank to his boots at the sight of his sword laying shattered on the ground with his hopes all means of winning the duel. Gareth lifted up his visor to fully take in the look of defeat and hopelessness he received from Guy. And defeat was an unknown word to Guy's dictionary. Only Hood had managed to successfully hold his own ground against him, and half the time that was due to luck. "I have-"
"Gisborne!" Another voice interrupted Gareth's voice. Guy spun around. His heart jumped out of his mouth at the sight of the sheriff riding his horse as fast as he could. Where the stump of the severed hand should have been was replaced by a crude spiked ball. Behind him was probably the whole of the castle garrison. Fear choked him. Guy hadn't been so terrified in his life. He had to get out of here, before the situation got even more critical. Guy scooped up the remains of his broken sword and looked around helplessly for an escape. His horse waited safely in his stables, carrying his freedom and possibly his life. It was only a matter of getting from here to there unscathed. Without hesitation, Guy sprinted to the stables, grabbed the horse's reins and tugged it into the open. "Come on, you stupid horse." Guy hissed. The horse stopped resisting him and allowed Guy to be carried from the danger.
Vaisey pushed his horse even faster at the sight of Gisborne fleeing. His mind went through the ways he would torture him, make him suffer for what he did. Burnt at the stake, ripped apart, flogged, pluck his eyes out. None of those seemed to satisfy him. Vaisey swore to God he wouldn't let him escape, even if he had to chase Gisborne down himself.
The sheriff was so caught up in his fantasies, he barley spotted a man, and the large army behind him. 'Oh great.' Vaisey thought to himself. An army had no doubt slipped through his borders, and were probably leeching off his resources already. If he hadn't been to busy interrogating the land for a blacksmith to make a hand, then the army wouldn't have slipped through so easily. And now he had to deal with this instead of hunting Gisborne. "Can this day get any worse?" He moaned to himself, then turned to his guards. "You! Take ten men and hunt Gisborne down. I want his head!" The sheriff demanded like a spoilt child. Whoever this man was, he was going to pay dearly. Vaisey pulled his horse to a stop. "Ah, so you must be the sheriff of Nottingham." He announced, full of confidence. Vaisey stared at him. He looked so much like his former master-at-arms, yet the plated armour and slight French accent gave him away. "Yes. And who are you?" The sheriff growled stiffly. "I am Lord Gareth of France. I heard you had an outlaw problem."
"Yes, you heard correctly." The sheriff continued to growl, wondering what on earth this man wanted, and why he had an army at his back. "And that Prince John would have your head if Hood isn't finished." Gareth continued to inquire. Vaisey was surprised how he had gained the second piece of information, but steeled his face from showing any signs of weakness. He had kept that as quiet as he could, but it seemed it had leaked it somehow. "Let's say for arguments sake it is true."
"Well, I may be a foreigner in this land, but I've grown quite fond of this village and a couple others in the area, plus I have this army that needs feeding. So, I am willing to bargain. Locksley, Nettlestone and Clun for the outlaws head." Vaisey thought for a moment. Who did he think he was? Coming to Nottingham and demanding land? If it weren't for that army which outnumbered his own, he would've told him to piss off. Yet desperate times called for desperate measures and he was willing to take a chance. However something about the man put him on edge, something about him that just wasn't right. 'He has no idea who he's messing with.' Vaisey thought to himself. Yet by the way he dressed and acted, he knew what type of man he was- one that will follow his command so long as he got what he wanted, and wouldn't prove difficult to kill off. Besides, he needed someone like him to do the dirty work.
"How about you have Locksley, and if you successfully catch Hood and Guy of Gisborne, then you can have Nettlestone and Clun. Oh, and a few other things." The sheriff hinted. Gareth smiled to himself. "Let me down, however, and it will be your head on the chopping block as well as mine."
"I wouldn't be here if I was going to fail you." Gareth reassured. The sheriff handed him the key to Locksley manor, then turned to the peasants who were watching. "People of Locksley," the sheriff bellowed, "I give you your new ruler, Lord Gareth of Locksley."
This chapter took me a little longer than planned, as I kept changing bits of it. I hope it isn't too bad, and hope you enjoy.