OVERHEARD AT THE TRIP INN

"The most damned peculiar thing I've ever seen, lads, and I've seen some peculiar things in me time," said Hugh, the Locksley village smith, with a broad smile and a shake of his head.

He settled his massive frame back in his chair and looked around at his cronies, bellied up to a corner table in the Trip Inn in Nottingham. They were washing down a large meat pie with pints of ale held in gravy-smeared fingers. The warm golden light of a summer afternoon streamed through the dusty windows that looked out onto the main thoroughfare of the town.

"Robin of Locksley, and Guy of Gisborne, is what I mean," he continued as he bit off another chunk of pie. "I seen them both in the market today. Talkin' and jokin' together like they was the best of friends. Huh! And to think, not so long ago our Lord of Locksley Manor was Robin Hood, an outlaw livin' in Sherwood Forest, and Gisborne huntin' him like a wolf after a deer, with the Sheriff's blessing. Fightin' over Lady Marian, too, if what I heard is true. Near to killin' each other over her. But look at them now. Livin' side by side in Locksley village. And after all of what Gisborne's done, and the devil of a Sheriff he worked for."

"Aye, they've made their peace with each other, God alone knows how," added Brian, a cooper from Clun, with a shrug. "They've been friends ever since Lady Isabella was Sheriff. You remember? Robin rescued Gisborne right out from under her axe. I was there and seen it meself."

"How many years has it been? Ten, eleven, since Vaisey's death in the siege?" asked Reginald, also from Locksley.

"Let's see….aye, you're right. That was back in 'ninety-five. I know, 'cause my son Matthew was born that same year," said Hugh's equally substantial younger brother Willie.

"Well, he's gone for good, praise be to heaven, and we all sleep easier at night now. But, Gisborne and Locksley! I guess you never get over bein' surprised till you're dead and buried, that's what," grunted Hugh.

"You hear about the new mill they're fixin' to build in Locksley?" said Reginald.

"New mill? What's wrong with the old one?" asked Brian.

"Well, harvest has been so good the last few years, we need a bigger one. Miller's got more work than he can handle. And here's the funny bit, lads. Word has it that Sir Guy is payin' half the cost himself."

"That does beat all," said Hugh in a tone of astonishment, but in which was mixed more than a touch of sarcasm. "High and mighty Sir Guy givin' out some of his money to us poor lowly peasants, is he? My, isn't that generous of him!"

"Well, God knows we've earned it, after what we've all been put through with that old Sheriff, and Gisborne doin' his dirty work for him," said Brian. "Now Robin, he's a good fellow. He and his gang was always bringin' us food, and takin' the money Vaisey stole from us and givin' it back to us. But Gisborne—I figure he's only givin' back what he should. He worked for the Sheriff all those years. He owes us. And you know them rich nobles don't part with their gold willingly."

"True enough. So we'll count our blessings, eh, lads?" grinned Willie.

"Aw, be fair, now, Brian," countered Reginald. "Gisborne's got his better side, too. I work for him, you remember, so I know. He's been right kind to us in Locksley since he got his lands and title back from King Richard, may God rest his soul. And look at the sweet little lass who married him. He must have some good in him."

"Good? In him? That's just women for you, Reggie. Always wantin' to change a man. Think they can take a man like Gisborne and make him over into a hallowed saint," scoffed Brian.

The men chuckled over the odd notions of womankind, quite forgetting how their own wives had diligently pruned away some of their rough ways, and reworked many of the careless habits of their youth into a semblance of respectability.

"All the same, that Lady Meg's a good woman," said Reginald. "She's got that husband of hers wrapped right 'round her little finger, I tell you, and she just a little mite of a thing next to him. I seen it meself. And so's my wife. You know she works in Gisborne Hall, cleans and cooks and looks after the children and such. She's been with the family since she was a young lass. Well, my Anna, the stories she tells! Everyone runs for cover, she tells me, when Gisborne raises the rafters with his shoutin'. All except his wife. Lady Meg tells him to shut his mouth and behave himself, and the high and mighty Sir Guy, as you call him, does it! Shuts right up!"

"Then she's the best thing that ever happened to him, that's all I can say," remarked Hugh. "Far too good for the likes of him, if you ask me. And she's given him those fine sons and all, and another little one on the way, or so my Bess tells me."

"That eldest one, Rodger—if he isn't the very image of his father. Old Tom swears the boy looks just like Gisborne as a child," said Willie.

"Let's just hope he doesn't turn out like him," muttered Brian with a grimace.

"Oh, I don't think it likely," said Reginald. "He's a good little lad. Quiet, you know, but real polite. Between me and Allan a Dale, we're teachin' him to ride. His papa's got him a new pony. The one he was ridin' was a bit small for him. He helped me last week stack up a load of wood to take to market, and never stopped talkin' about his new pony. And he worked steady with me all afternoon, with never a complaint. I'll say one thing for Gisborne—he doesn't spoil his sons."

"No, he makes them work. Even Richard has his chores to do, Anna tells me, and him only five. Neither him nor Rodger will be lazy and spoiled lord's sons, not if their father has anything to do with it. And their mama will raise them right. If she can manage her husband, she can manage her sons."

"He's damned lucky to be alive to have children at all. We all thought King Richard would have his head for sure. And then King John, too, wantin' his revenge."

"I tell you, when I saw them soldiers of the king's show up in Locksley that day, and Gisborne and Robin led off in chains, I never expected to see either one of them alive again," said Reginald.

"How'd they get off, anyway?" asked Brian.

"I heard there was a pact that King Richard forced his brother to sign before his death. Prince John was made to promise not to harm either man."

"I don't expect that set too well with our beloved monarch, did it?"

"Hell, no," snickered Hugh. "I'm sure it stuck in his craw. He'd like to have both their heads on a pike even now. But by the looks of things even he couldn't find a way 'round the pact he'd signed. He made them sit in prison just the same, half-starving them for four months, but in the end he had to let them go. All the better. I'd sure hate to have lost our Robin. Or Gisborne. You can laugh if you want, Brian, but give the devil his due, as they say. He's a changed man. I'm not sayin' I like him. I don't like him, and never will, after the things he's done. But I can't deny he's changed."

"I can't forget the sight of him at the siege," added Willie, "the way he stood against Prince John's army, and held them off while Robin got us into the castle. Say what you like about Gisborne, but he saved a lot of lives that day. And then what he did, helpin' Robin kill Sheriff Vaisey! Hate him or love him, we do owe him that much."

The men were silent for a moment, remembering the desperate struggle for the freedom of Nottingham's people from Vaisey's tyranny, and the price so many paid to secure it.

"'Tis a shame about King Richard, just the same," offered Brian. "Maybe if he'd stayed in England more and not gone off to foreign parts lookin' for trouble he'd still be alive and rulin' over us, and not King John. After all that Robin and his men did to boot his sorry arse out of our lives, and we still ended up with the bastard."

"Aye, well, you go lookin' for trouble and it usually finds you," answered Hugh. "Aw, what does it matter in the long run, lads? Kings come and go, and one's much like the other, when all's said and done. Meantime, we work and pay our taxes and starve half the year, and sometimes we have a bit of fun to make our time on God's earth worth all the misery of this life."

"You could make a song outta that," joked Willie, as he nudged his brother's beefy shoulder. "Sing it for us all at next harvest festival."

"Give over, you big bloody fool!" replied Hugh, as he gave his brother a playful shove. "You'd all have to be pretty well laid out drunk to listen to my singin' with any pleasure!"

When their laughter quieted, Hugh again slowly shook his head at them, and smiled.

"Robin of Locksley, and Guy of Gisborne. Well, lads, it's a strange world and no mistake."