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Chapter Six

"How did you sleep, my lord?" Sir Guy asked, meaning to be polite. The Sheriff glared at him, his eyes slightly bloodshot.

"Shut up, Gisborne!" he yelled, making Sir Guy jump. "Did I sleep like a log? A clue?" Gisborne closed his eyes, anticipating his response. "No!" the Sheriff hissed, hitting Guy over the head. "I'm in the mood for a hanging… find some trouble maker and kill them. In fact, find anyone and tie the noose around their neck!"

"Yes, my lord," Gisborne replied, rubbing his head. Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door.

"Get lost!" the Sheriff yelled, then moaned something indistinguishable to himself. When the person knocked again, he threw his sandal at the door. The knocking abruptly stopped.

"My lord," a guard called, "I have urgent news!"

"What is it?" the Sheriff shouted back, clutching his aching head. The guard opened the door and the bright morning light streamed in, making the Sheriff roar in agony.

"Close the door!" he ordered, sinking into his throne-like chair. The guard hastily obeyed, then raced to the Sheriff's side.

"Lord Arthur is due to arrive in three days, my lord," the guard explained, then braced himself in case the Sheriff threw something at him. Instead, the Sheriff froze.

"What?" he spat, turning to face the guard slowly. The Sheriff was a terrifying sight; his face was set into a malevolent-looking snarl, his eyes were bloodshot and his arms were folded defensively across his chest. The guard resisted the urge to whimper.

"Lord Arthur has left his castle, so he is expected to be arriving in three days."

"He's left already?" the Sheriff asked himself in disbelief. "Tell everyone to prepare for his arrival… and that I've got a terrible headache." When the guard began to move slowly, the Sheriff bellowed at him to make haste before resting his head on the table.

"I had the most terrible dream," he groaned. "Hood became Prince of England and I was a peasant. I had to eat barley all the time, and I had a wife and children! Oh, the tragedy of it all…" he looked up at Sir Guy. "I suppose you can go now."

"Yes, my lord," Sir Guy said, walking hurriedly to the door. He swiftly opened it and scuttled out, but made the mistake of slamming the door shut.

"GISBORNE!!!" the Sheriff roared.

***

Marian was waiting in the external hallway overlooking the courtyard, hoping that Guy would walk that way so that she could ask him some questions. She had her back against a grey stone column and was playing with one of the hairpin daggers that were lodged in her messy bun, thinking about Robin. Suddenly Sir Guy emerged, followed by a roar from the Sheriff.

"Sir Guy?" Marian asked, touching his shoulder. He immediately stopped walking and turned to face her.

"Yes, Marian?"

"I have some questions for you," she said, giving him a small smile.

"Oh?" he asked, his heart suddenly racing

"The questions are about Charlotte," Marian said, hoping that he wouldn't suddenly shut off. "I'm just curious, you see."

"Go ahead," Guy said, eager to make her happy. "Couples can share things."

"Why is she here?" Marian asked as nonchalantly as she could.

"Well," Sir Guy said, lowering his voice. "That's actually a secret, but I can trust you, can't I?" Marian nodded, so he continued. "You see, her brother Ewan is a terrible alcoholic and gambler. He recently lost a large amount of money he owed to Prince John, and was threatened with being fired and banished unless he could pay the money back.

"Our Sheriff decided to help him out a little bit- he is paying a quarter of what Ewan owes, and that in itself is quite a large amount. You see, that puts Ewan into the Sheriff's debt and totally under his control. As a way of reminding Ewan of his debt, Charlotte was sent here. She was also requested for by the Sheriff because she is a very good investment."

"I see," Marian said, but Sir Guy shook his head.

"There's a little bit more to it than that. Ewan also sent Charlotte here because when he is drunk, he has this terrible habit of hurting those around him. He has quite violent fits, and not even the servants are game to go near him. Only Charlotte ever tends to him, and she's got the scars to prove it."

"That's simply awful!" Marian exclaimed, but kept her voice low. "She told me that she was here to be married off."

"Oh, that's a small part of it as well," Guy said. "Some women are not as fortunate as you, Marian. They don't have such adoring followers. Speaking of which, I think we should spend some more time together."

"I suppose so," Marian said, trying to find a way out of that one. "Although, I am not sure how. Shopping and the like must be a terrible bore for you, Sir Guy."

"I will follow you anywhere," he said, then leant forward to kiss her. Very quickly Marian turned her cheek, so that he got her there.

"Not in public, Guy," she said, attempting to save herself.

"Forgive me," he replied, then nodded and walked off.

***

Charlotte entered the Sheriff's office, holding a tray with various items on it. She sat the tray down on his desk and pulled a chair over so that she was sitting opposite him. Carefully, she poured a clear liquid from the jug into a wooden cup and handed it to him.

"I give this to my brother when he has one of his bad headaches," she explained as he lifted the cup to his lips. He stopped for a moment.

"He must live off the stuff," he stated, then took a gulp. "Ugh! It tastes sour."

"It's good for you," she assured him, and he took another sip. "Is there any news from my brother?"

"Only a note warning me not to court you or let others do the same."

"Oh no," Charlotte sighed. "He must have had one of his drunk fits. I told him not to touch the stuff…"

The Sheriff laughed. "There's no chance of me courting you. I prefer women with a bit of meat on their bodies."

"I prefer men with a bit of hair on their heads," she retorted.

"Ouch." The Sheriff grinned at Charlotte, challenging her to say something back. Instead, she held her tongue. "Besides," he said, "I don't think I can hurt you any more than he did." Charlotte remained silent. "Do you still have those wounds on your arms?"

"Yes," Charlotte replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "He doesn't mean it, though! It's that blasted drink…"

"La-di-dah-di-dah. Just show me your arm," the Sheriff ordered. Unwillingly Charlotte rolled up her sleeve, revealing several welts, a large, purplish bruise and many little cuts that adorned her whole arm. The Sheriff frowned, surprised at the ghastly wounds.

"Don't they hurt?" he asked, poking the bruise. Charlotte winced.

"Only if you poke them."

"Ah. Sorry about that," he guffawed. "A clue?" He shook his head. There was then a silence, in which the Sheriff began to rub his temples. After about a minute or so, he said, "It feels better already."

"I told you it's good for you," Charlotte said smugly. There was another pause, broken this time by Charlotte. "Why are you helping us?"

"What?"

"I'm not being ungrateful, but why are you helping us?" Charlotte asked again. The Sheriff looked at her as if she was strange.

"I want to."

"What's in it for you, though? That's what I really want to know." The Sheriff put his fingers together and stared hard at her.

"Your brother's debt, I suppose. Debt is a very useful thing to use against other people, Charlotte, my friend. I have your brother around my little finger, and there's nothing you can do about it," he said softly, looking her right in the eyes. Charlotte's face was nearly impassive, but the hurt expression in her eyes gave her away.

"Promise me that you won't use it to harm him," she pleaded. "Do whatever you want to me, but don't hurt him."

"I intend to," he said, then stood up and stretched. "You see, Charlotte, I have you in an even better position. You would do anything to save your foolish brother; even give your own life."

"True," she replied, her tone dejected. She stood also.

"So I am in the best position of all: I have you all right where I want you," the Sheriff said gloatingly. Charlotte did not respond. "What's that I hear? A heart breaking?" he teased. Charlotte approached him, not threateningly, and pressed her ear against his chest.

"That's odd," she said. "I can't hear anything at all." The Sheriff laughed.

"Good," he said. Charlotte frowned at him.

"Usually by now your conscience would have said something," Charlotte muttered to herself, "but I'm not sure you have one." Suddenly she raised her voice. "Would you like the drink that will help you sleep now?"

"Mmm," he agreed, then put a finger under her chin. "Do you know what fascinates me about you?"

"What?" she asked, her tone emotionless.

"That you are such an intelligent, pretty little creature but you let everyone else walk all over you, just so that your brother is not shamed. You're weak. Why?"

"Because I love him," she said and then added as an afterthought, "but you wouldn't understand. It's a human emotion." Outwardly, the Sheriff laughed cruelly. Inside, though, the words stuck like barbs underneath his skin. Usually such comments would not bother him, but there was something about Charlotte that was different.

"All right, enough humour. The drink?" he ordered, and then added, "I may be heartless, but my body still has to rest." When Charlotte didn't move, he poked her in the arm again and said, "Hurry up! We don't have all day."

"Yes, my lord," she said, scowling, and poured him the drink "Sleep well," she said out of politeness, handed him the cup and walked out the door. The Sheriff watched as she made her way down the hall, surprised that she had not burst into tears.

For quite some time the Sheriff sat at his desk, tracing his fingers around the edge of the cup. For the first time in a very long time, emotions like guilt and regret swirled around his head. He tired to comfort himself with the thought of all the power he would have over Ewan, but Charlotte's disconsolate face kept looming in front of his eyes. Why did she bother him so much? Why had her comment hurt him when he thought that he was immune to that kind of pain? And what was that strange feeling that kept jabbing at his brain, heart and stomach? Maybe he had the flu.

Definitely the flu.