AN INHERITANCE OF HATE

Robin arrived at Rowan's house, a sturdy, two-storied structure tucked in amongst its neighbours near Nottingham's east gate. Attached to the house was Rowan's carpentry shop. He peeked in the door of the shop. No one was inside, so he went to the house and knocked.

After his father Dunne's untimely death, Rowan's mother had urged him to get out of the dangerous work in the mines. Rowan had thereafter found employment with a carpenter in Nottingham. The man, an elderly widower with no children, had taken Rowan as his apprentice, and, some years later, had bequeathed him the business and the house.

Robin knew Rowan to be an industrious worker. To all appearances his business was thriving as a result, enabling him to support a growing, though not always harmonious, family. Robin had met Rowan's wife once, when she and Rowan had been married less than a year, and remembered her as a little, dull brown mouse of a woman, already heavily pregnant, and not particularly happy about it.

He screwed up his face as the deafening clamor of several screaming children emanated from the other side of the door. Rowan's wife opened to his second knock. She had a baby on her hip and a toddler clinging to her skirts. Her tired eyes looked Robin over without much interest.

To his inquiries, she answered that Rowan was with a customer, but she expected him back soon. Would he like to wait inside? Robin declined, and told her he would wait by the shop. The quick glimpse he'd gotten of the interior of the house—dirty clothes and dishes strewn about, bickering children, and general chaos—was not appealing.

He went back to the shop. Rowan's workspace was as clean and organized as his house was messy. Tools hung in orderly rows on the walls, boards were stacked neatly in one corner. He wondered if Rowan was naturally tidy, or if his well-arranged workshop was his escape from the noisy disorder of his home life.

A few minutes later, Rowan came around the corner of the house.

"Robin of Locksley," he said. "My wife told me you were here."

"Rowan, it's been a while." The two men shook hands. "Are you and your family well?"

"Quite well, thank you. So, what brings you here today?"

"I'm on business, about your son. Is he home?"

"My son? Which one? I've got three."

"Peter."

"Peter? He's not here. I don't know where he is right now. He was working for Sir Henry, over in Mansfield, but there's been some sort of problem recently about a horse—"

"Rowan, if you're referring to the horse race, I was there. I saw what happened."

"Oh." Rowan shifted uneasily. "Well, about that, Robin, I think there was some sort of misunderstanding—"

"There was no misunderstanding. Your son hit Rodger, Sir Guy's son, and was disqualified from the race. I don't know if he is still in Sir Henry's employment right now, but I doubt it."

Rowan's cordial smile faded away, and his bright blue eyes darkened into a suspicious frown.

"Why are you really here, Robin?" he asked curtly. "Come on, do you think my son is the only boy in Nottingham who hasn't gotten into mischief before? Yes, okay, I heard he pulled some pranks on a few people. That's why I wanted him to take this offer from Sir Henry. My sister got him the position. We thought it might keep him out of trouble."

"I'm sorry to say that your son is in more trouble now. He's been involved in something more than a prank."

"Is this about the race? Listen, if—"

"No, it's more serious than that now."

"What are you talking about?"

Robin told him. Rowan stared and grew pale, first with fear, and then with indignation.

"You think my Peter did that? How do you know? What makes you think Gisborne's son isn't making it up, to get my boy in trouble? Or maybe his father put him up to it!"

"Rodger didn't make it up."

"Then he must have done something to start the fight—"

"No, Rowan, he didn't. And it wasn't a fight. Your son and three other boys ganged up on Rodger. Your son beat him senseless and left him lying in the street."

"No. I know he's done some bad things, but he wouldn't—"

"He did. I came over here to tell you and to talk to you before any action is taken."

Rowan's face grew anxious. He hesitated before replying, "What action? Robin, what are you saying?"

"Are you not hearing me? Your son beat up a boy, Rowan, a boy who could not defend himself! It's more than a black eye. He kicked Rodger so hard it broke his ribs—"

"No! My Peter? No." He shook his head vigorously. "I know he can be a bit of a scamp, but this?" Rowan paced about the shop, absently picking up tools and setting them down. "No. There must be some mistake. This can't be right. Gisborne put his boy up to this, didn't he, just to get to me!"

"If you don't believe me, you can come see the lad yourself, though I don't recommend it. As it is, I had all I could do to keep Gisborne from marching straight down here and dragging both of you to the Sheriff."

Rowan stopped his pacing, and abruptly turned on Robin.

"You're on his side, aren't you?" he cried. "How can you be friends with a man like that, Robin? What's happened to you? You used to stand up for us, and now you're one of them!"

"One of whom, Rowan? I'm not taking sides here. A crime has been committed, by your son. He's still a young boy, and you're his father. That makes you responsible to control what he does. Peter has a reputation around town for making trouble. Whether or not you were aware of that before, you know it now. And it's more than a prank this time. Gisborne can have him arrested. He has every right to. His son was badly beaten, for no other reason than that he is his son."

Robin took hold of Rowan's shoulder, his own anger rising at the man's willful denial. "Listen to me. This has to stop! I understand you're upset about what happened to your father—"

"And why shouldn't I be? He was murdered by Gisborne, right in front of me!"

"I'm not saying you shouldn't be angry. It was a great injustice. I'm not asking you to forgive Guy for what he did. I'm only asking you to consider this—you've passed your bitterness on to your son, and he's taken it out on an innocent boy. Rodger is not answerable for his father's wrongs, but your son is for his, and so are you. I'll give it to you straight. Guy has every right in the eyes of the law to press charges against you and Peter. He could have you both arrested and put in prison. Now, I'm doing everything I can to prevent that from happening, because I don't want to see things go that far."

Rowan walked to the far end of the shop and stared down at his work bench.

"All right," he muttered. "I'm sorry about what happened to the boy, okay, and if my lad Peter did it, as you say, and I'm not at all convinced that he did—but Gisborne? You expect me to feel sorry for him? He killed my father!"

"And you nearly killed my wife, Marian, just to get back at him. Have you forgotten that? You would have killed an innocent woman if I hadn't stopped you."

Rowan hung his head, his face flushed with shame. "I know."

"I'm sorry, Rowan, that you lost your father, I truly am. But you weren't the only one who suffered that day. It was a tragedy for everyone involved."

"Except for Sheriff Vaisey and Gisborne. I didn't see them suffering for what they did."

"Perhaps Vaisey didn't, no. The man was a monster without a conscience. He'd dead and gone now, and good riddance. But you're wrong about Guy."

"Am I? He killed my father and got away with it, Robin!"

Robin shook his head. "He didn't get away with anything. Look, I'm not saying it's completely fair. Guy was granted a pardon by King Richard. Not even King John could find a way around it, and believe me, he tried. But unfair or not, Guy can't be put on trial again, and you can't touch him without bringing serious trouble on yourself and your family."

"What if it was the other way around?" said Rowan. "What if I had killed Gisborne's father? Do you think I would have gotten a pardon from the king? You know the answer. I'd have been dangling from the end of a rope the very same day."

I can't deny it, thought Robin. There's no question that Rowan would have been hung for such a crime. Until the day that things change for the better in this country, there are two sets of laws and two standards of justice—one for the nobles and another for the poor working man.

Is Rowan right? Have I forgotten? In my friendship with Guy have I lost sight of the fact that he's still hated by many, and justifiably so? I see him so differently now, but I hated him once, too, enough to want him dead as much as Rowan does.

Rowan doesn't see the man I do. In his eyes Guy got away with murder. He doesn't believe Guy has paid for his wrongs, let alone that he has feelings, too, and has suffered terrible losses of his own.

"Rowan, you can believe what you like about Guy, but I know him far better than you do, and trust me, he hasn't gotten away with anything. He's paid, many times over, for the things he did. Maybe it doesn't look that way to you, but he has, and he will for the rest of his life."

"How?" countered Rowan. "He lives in his fine big house wearing his fine clothes, lording it over his lands and his servants, with all the peasants bowing to him and calling him "Sir Guy". You tell me how he's paid, Robin."

"That's how you see it, but you're so wrong about Gisborne," Robin answered quietly. "He knows just as much as you do what it's like to lose someone he loved. He lost his parents, both of them, in one day, and he loved them as much as you loved your father. He was innocent of blame, but he was held responsible for their deaths and was driven out of his home and his village. He lost everything. And that was only the beginning of it for him. You don't know the whole story."

"I don't feel pity for him. My sister and I lost our father because of him, and my mother lost the husband she loved."

"He acted on Sheriff Vaisey's orders, Rowan. Believe it or not, that day at the mine was tragic for him, too. But he's not that man anymore, and he's sorry for what he did."

"Oh, really?" Rowan went to the pile of wood in the corner and picked up a board. "Then why has he never said so to me?"

"He has, to me and to the whole town. The killing of your father was one of the crimes he confessed to, and showed his remorse for."

"Remorse? In whose eyes? Yours? No. I'm sorry about his boy, but I don't forgive him, Robin. I never will."

Robin saw there was no point in saying anything more about Guy. Rowan was too angry, too embittered, to hear him. He got back to the business at hand.

"Rowan, you need to find Peter, now, and bring him to the Sheriff, before Gisborne sends some guards over here to do it for you. I'm serious. Find him now. I've got another visit to make in the meantime. There are other boys involved. If you and Peter cooperate, perhaps we can deal with this situation without the need for drastic action."

Rowan turned to face him.

"I'll cooperate, Robin, but I don't expect fair treatment for my son, not from the likes of Gisborne. Or from you, either."

He went back to his bench and slammed the board down on it.

Robin moved to the door. "Find your son, bring him to the Sheriff, and we'll talk this out."

Rowan didn't answer him, didn't look at him again. Robin shut the door, and slowly walked back toward the street.

It's like my father, Malcolm, and Guy's father, Sir Rodger, all over again, he thought, his heart heavy with sadness at the memory. It's me and Guy, the way we were for so many years. Now it's Guy's son, and Rowan's son. Tuck was right when he said that the sins of the fathers are visited upon their children.

If only Guy could say how sorry he is to Rowan, face-to-face. If he could just swallow his pride, and ask Rowan's forgiveness. He needs to, and Rowan needs to hear it. If Guy won't, if he can't, I fear the hatred between them will go on, through their children, and never end….