So, I would like to thank my lovely guest reader for reviewing Chapter One, and I hope you enjoy the next bit.
The next morning dawned bright and, surprisingly for the English spring, devoid of rain. Discussions with the Sheriff did not begin until a more sensible hour, so Grace thought she would take a ride. She did not wake her guard; she would not go far, and any bandit not loyal to dear Robin would be less likely to stop a woman alone than a woman surrounded by soldiers. And besides, she had another friend to visit in Nottingham.
She had always liked this county, even though her visits had only been few and brief. It was filled with woodland, its villages emerging from clearings and surrounded by beautiful, ancient trees. Her own home, while lying on the sea front, lacked the natural beauty of Nottinghamshire; it was bigger, and therefore home to more people. That meant more space being needed for housing, and that meant fewer trees. It was, as her father would say, a sacrifice one had to pay in the modern age. But still, it was a shame. And it made visits to other counties far more pleasurable.
As she rode at a steady canter through the trees, Grace wondered of her friends from the past. Robin was alive and, even if not quite how she had imagined, well. That left two others; Lady Marian of Knighton, whom she was setting out to visit now, and Sir Guy of Gisbourne. Her heart knotted as she thought of him; their last parting had been painful, and she did not even know if he even resided in Nottinghamshire anymore. Perhaps things would have been different, she thought for the thousandth time at least, if their plans had not been forced to change. She did not know, and most likely never would; dwelling on it would not change a thing.
Even after so many years she still remembered the roads that led her to Knighton Hall, and the sun was just making itself seen over the low hills as she arrived. She saw movement in an upstairs window; the occupants were awake, at least.
She tied up her horse, knocked gently on the front door and waited, studying her surroundings for the first time since her teenage years. They had not changed considerably; flowers still grew around the porch, and the friendly creepers remained crawling up the sides of the house. She smiled to herself as she examined the patch of earth, scorched to this day from hers and Marian's boyish childhood experiments with flints and kindling.
An elderly face opened the door; a face she knew was once kind but now had been tainted with suspicion and hostility. The face of Sir Edward, she decided, had not aged well these last few years. His manner, however, remained unchanged in its hospitable friendship, and he stepped out of his house to greet her.
"Dearest Grace," he exclaimed, surprised at her sudden appearance after so long an absence. "It is a wonder to see you again."
"Sir Edward. Please forgive the hour and my lack of forewarning; I am in Nottingham on my father's business and my decision to visit was quite sudden."
"Do not worry. Come in, it is warm inside. Marian I am sure will be pleased to see you."
As he spoke he led her into the house, where she was immediately encompassed by the heat of the fire burning pleasantly in the hearth. She had always found Knighton Hall to be a comfortable place; a smile made its way to her lips as her memories of it surfaced.
"Who is it Father?" came a voice from the top of the stairs, followed by light but rapid footsteps. The source of the noise stopped suddenly, and beamed a smile at her old friend.
"Marian," Grace allowed herself to be encompassed by a rough embrace. "It has been too long."
The three of them talked for an hour about meaningless things; their health, recent happenings in Hampshire and Nottingham, other people Marian knew from Grace's home; until Grace realised the time. She would be missed soon, she knew, and should be getting back before her guard called a search party.
"Wait, I forgot to ask," Marian held her up. "What brings you to Nottingham anyway?"
"Business of my father's," Grace said. She sighed, not wanting to burden these good people with her news but at the same time thinking that they could help her. "Stories of the Sheriff's treatment of the peasants in this county have reached and upset many nobles of Hampshire. My father would have liked to come in person but unfortunately... He is unable to travel at present."
"Why, what has happened?"
"His health is failing him," Grace stated, the words coming out in a rush. "Although we are trying to keep that a secret from Prince John's representatives for as long as possible. He saves his strength for their visits, which means that his duties as Sheriff must be undertaken by others. Such as myself."
"And the rumours you are hearing? What of them?" Sir Edward, Grace remembered, had always been more concerned with the wellbeing of his people than his friends. She admired him for it.
"That since your replacement took up power in Nottingham Castle the people have been constantly taxed, hanged for the slightest of crimes, tormented in their villages by Castle guards... Nottinghamshire is not the only county, but it seems to be at its worst here."
"And what exactly do you think speaking to the Sheriff will achieve? He will tell you nothing, and if he does they will most likely be lies."
"I am aware of that. I hope to gather his motives, one way or another. I know that my visit will not suddenly inspire a change of heart; he seems the sort of man who lacks everything from a conscience to a sense of decency. But my father tasked me with gathering information, and that is what I shall do."
"Then I wish you luck, for whatever good it will do you."
"Thank you, Sir Edward. But now I must go; my guard will undoubtedly be looking for me."
They bade their farewells, and Marian escorted her back outside.
"One thing you should know," she said in a low voice as Grace settled herself in her saddle. "Sir Guy is the Sheriff's Lieutenant; you will be bound to run into him in the castle somewhere, and if not he will certainly attend yours and the Sheriff's discussions."
Grace sighed, hers and Guy's last conversation playing itself in her mind once again. She pushed it away; she knew the details by heart already. "Sir Guy indeed? I did wonder if I would see him somewhere."
"Be careful," Marian warned, sensing her friend's concern. Grace merely laughed.
"I am always careful, Marian. It's a family trait. Farewell my friend."
She turned her horse and rode away back towards the roads, conflicted hopes brewing inside her.
Sir Guy, meanwhile, had been informed not five minutes previously that the Lady Grace was missing. He had been summoned to the Castle just after dawn, and now paced the Great Hall, fuming. Grace's guard had attempted to assure him that she had only gone out for a morning ride, that she often did things like that, and would be back soon. Guy, however, wasn't convinced. He was angry with her, he tried to tell himself. For being the cause of his waking at an untimely hour of the morning. He was not concerned. Not at all.
"Sir Guy," one of her red-liveried guards hovered in the Hall doorway above him. "The castle has been thoroughly searched with no results."
"Great," Guy muttered, meaning precisely the opposite. He took the stairs three at a time and brushed past the guard, a man whose face he recognised but couldn't name.
"Sir, she will return. She often does this sort of thing."
"Nottinghamshire," he spat at the man "Is a far more dangerous place than Hampshire."
"Of course, my Lord."
"Begin a search to the nearest villages. Take as many of the Sheriff's soldiers as you need."
"I assure you, that will not be necessary..."
"Do it. If she is not found..."
"Sir Guy!" a shout came from outside; the courtyard. Guy rushed to the nearest window. "Her Ladyship has returned."
The guard gave him a knowing smile before making his way down to his mistress, but Guy remained where he was, jaw clenched. He was not concerned, he told himself for the hundredth time. He was simply doing his duty as host.
Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he was concerned. He had no idea why; the last time he and Grace had met she had vowed never to see him again; but still he could not deny it. He was worried for her wellbeing.
He leaned, one hand on his sword, against the Castle's main doorway and watched her dismount her horse and hand it to a stable boy before allowing her guard to lead her up the main steps. She certainly still lived up to her name, Guy mused.
"Lady Grace," he announced, straightening up from the cold stone. He registered surprise in her expression; she had not seen him.
"Sir Guy," she inclined her head in greeting.
"Your absence has caused quite an upset this morning. Your guard had great concerns for your wellbeing." He shot the guard a subtle look that he hoped he would take as a hint to shut up and take the blame; he had to provide some kind of story that explained why most of the Sheriff's soldiers were awake and active so early in the morning. Fortunately, the guard read his message perfectly, although he did take the time to make his contempt for Guy shown.
"Your safety, My Lady, is our highest concern."
Grace laughed carelessly. "Stephen, you should know by now that I can take care of myself, even in the wilderness of Nottinghamshire."
Stephen inclined his head, and Guy indicated the direction back into the castle. He really should make his excuses and leave, he thought. He should avoid spending time alone with her as much as possible; to not do so was only inviting painful conversation. Unfortunately, his room was in the same direction as hers, if that was indeed where she was going. He would have to hope she did not send away the guard.
"Tell me," she began in a cool, indifferent voice. "Is your Sheriff awake yet, or would he prefer to wait for our discussion?"
"The Sheriff sleeps late," Guy informed her, matching his tone with hers. "I can have him woken if you would rather begin sooner..."
"No, no. I would like to catch him in a good mood."
Guy smirked. "Such a thing is not known to exist," he muttered, earning himself a bout of careless laughter.
"Stephen," Grace turned to her guard. They had reached a turning; the only turning that would have given him an excuse to part ways. "Go and make sure Matthew is alright, will you? Falling off one's horse is bound to create a few bruises."
"My Lady," Stephen inclined his head and disappeared around a corner. Grace, however, had stopped. She wanted to talk. This was not good.
"An accident on the road?"
"A wild deer leapt out in front of us. Matthew's horse is easily startled; it reared and he fell. He is quite alright, I am sure.
"You did not meet any outlaws?"
"None at all. It was a pleasant journey, actually."
"That is good to know."
They stood in silence a moment while each thought of another practical thing to say and failed to find one. It grew stifling for a matter of seconds, until Grace laughed her careless laugh, and raised her eyes towards the heavens.
"Look at us," she mused. "The last time we spoke it wasn't like this, was it?"
"The last time we spoke, Your Ladyship, you said you had no intention of seeing me again." Guy was not about to allow this conversation to become at all deep and meaningful. If it meant hurting her feelings, then so be it.
"Yes, well. It would seem that Fate had other plans for us, wouldn't it?"
"Indeed."
That silence again. It was the perfect moment, he reasoned, to make his excuses and disappear. He would see her again for the discussions and once more as a farewell the next morning, but then they would not be alone. And he could avoid having to bid her farewell.
"Excuse me," he implored, turning towards another corridor. "I must wake the Sheriff..."
"Guy," she cut him off and he stopped, turn only half completed. Her voice was different; it retained some emotion.
"I owe you an apology for that night. You did not deserve to be treated the way I treated you; for that I am sorry."
"Really?" he allowed his incredulity to bleed through his tone, bringing his eyes up for the first time to meet hers. He immediately wished he hadn't; those eyes, even as cold as they were then, had always transfixed him. This time, even after so many long years, was no different. They were obstructed for a few moments by her solemn nod. Those few moments were enough to break that spell.
"I suppose expect me to forgive you and continue our friendship as it has always been," he was being unreasonable, he knew, but if she wanted to discuss this then he would make his opinion known too. He surprised her by turning away from him to the window and smiling to herself.
"No," she said sadly. "No, I don't expect that. I have no right to your forgiveness."
"So why bother with apologies?"
"Because I do not want this hanging over our heads any longer. I do not like leaving arguments unresolved."
"So explain, then."
"I told you why I had to refuse."
"Oh, of course. Your father didn't approve. Do you think I am so..." he stopped himself abruptly as a castle guard made his way noisily along the corridor, and calmed his temper. "He gave me his blessing, Grace. The match was even his idea to begin with. Is it not understandable that I did not believe him to have changed his mind so quickly?"
"He wanted me to marry another Southerner," she explained, looking up at him. "Of course he did not tell me that until after you had gone."
This was news to Guy. "Why?"
"I have no idea. Something about preserving the family line, but he has never explained himself. I don't think he has a reason, really."
She leant against the sill of the window, looking out over the courtyard. The sun was how high enough to peep over the walls of the castle, but she did not even squint as she stared almost directly into it. Guy sighed to himself. He had fostered a burning contempt for this woman for a number of years, and for what? A simple misunderstanding. She had told him all of this before; had just been too proud to admit it. He would rather she had changed her mind than her father consider him unworthy, even if not for any real reason.
"And did you?" it was none of his business, but he had to know. She laughed again, that careless laugh. It was a laugh that seemed to defy, even in her worst moments of sadness, as much of Fate's decisions as it could.
"Not yet. Suitors are being chosen for me as we speak. My handmaid tells me that he is currently choosing out of the five he deems the most fitting." Her tone made clear her opinion of having her husband chosen for her out of men she had never met. He stepped towards her, his barriers falling away as they had always done when he was around her, and placed a hand on her back. He didn't really know what he was doing; he just knew that with her explanations he had forgiven her and a weight had fallen off him. She turned to him, eyes brimming with emotion, and he did nothing to fight the urge to take her into his embrace. She fit beneath his chin, and he realised as he felt her in his arms again that it was not contempt and loathing he had felt for her all these years. It was exactly the same feeling, merely accentuated due to loss, that he had felt while he had known her.
"Do you think things would have been different?" she wondered, "Had we married?"
"What things?"
"You know, England, Nottingham. This hideous taxing you're involved with." she looked up into his eyes. "You wouldn't be so cold, I know that."
"I do not know what you mean."
"You've changed, Guy. There was not this hard edge to you before. It's almost as if you are broken. I do hope it wasn't me that broke you."
Guy sighed. She was responsible, although not single-handedly. He left the sentence unanswered; she did not need to know such things.
"Perhaps," he said instead. It was a word that could mean anything, and he hoped it answered as many of her thoughts as possible.
"Gisbourne, there you are," the loud, grating voice of the Sheriff met them from over Guy's shoulder, and Grace immediately straightened up to avoid any insinuations.
"My Lord Sheriff," she greeted the small man with a slight incline of her head, as if she knew he would not offer any traditional welcomes. She had done her homework, Guy realised. He felt strangely smug at the prospect.
"Lady Grace. Well, shall we begin proceedings now? I have the Great Hall ready and waiting."
"Of course. Why delay?"
With a smile that was far from genuine, the Sheriff led the way back through the corridors. Guy smirked at Grace's expression as they followed him.
"I could not do what you do," she whispered. "I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet."
He pursed his lips to suppress laughter; he was equally surprised himself.
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