Chapter 8

Sorry people, RL getting in the way again. I'm sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy chapter 8. It's a twisty bendy road.

They sat in groups in the meeting house guzzling copious amounts of ale and eating all the villages supplies for the winter. Nervous women hurried back and forth with more dishes for the foot soldiers. Gisborne stood warming himself at the large fire which took up the centre of one wall. The sheriff sat close by, his evil bulging eyes illuminated by the flames.

"Look at you, you're in that mood again aren't you Gisborne. I'd thought you'd snapped out of it."

"I don't know what you're talking about my Lord," Gisborne mumbled as he stared into the flames.

"I think you do," Robert sneered. "Admit it Gisborne, you're going soft. You're starting to wonder, I can see it in your eyes. You try to carry on but you question yourself. Do you fear eternity Gisborne, eternal damnation. Is that it?"

"How can you say I'm going soft. You saw how I treated that boy, I would have cut him from ear to ear if Much hadn't appeared," Gisborne blurted desperately. The Sheriff had hit a nerve.

The Sheriff's smile was all the brighter. "Oh, Much is it, what happened to the halfwit. That's what he is you know. His mother most probably dropped him the day he was born, stupid woman. Dropped him on his head," the Sheriff took another long swig of ale, some of the brown liquid ran down the sides of his neck.

"You're drunk," Gisborne muttered as he continued to stare into the flames.

"Yes I am...and I am in dire need of entertainment." the sheriff nodded to two foot soldiers at the entrance.

Minutes later Much was dragged in and thrown down in front of them. He was in a pitiful state. His bottom lip was swollen and cut, his face was coloured with many bruises. He looked dazed as if he didn't know where he was.

The villagers could only gasp and look away. They were surrounded on all sides by soldiers and couldn't help him.

Maeve put down her serving tray but another woman held her back shaking her head in warning as they looked on.

"Stand up halfwit," The Sheriff commanded.

Much was hauled to his feet. He stood, staring at a point on the ground, swaying as if he'd keel over any second.

"How does it feel halfwit. This is the last day of your life. Tomorrow morning you will hang, how does it feel to be abandoned to your fate,"

"John will come," his answer was barely perceptible. The Sheriff had to lean forward to hear.

"Oh, John is it?" He leaned back with a smile of satisfaction. "John Little I presume you mean, and what of your new leader. Will he not mount a rescue. Maybe it is beneath his dignity to rescue such an urchin."

Much shook his head in frustration. It had been a slip of the tongue. Of course the new leader would come. Much was angry with himself. He'd let the side down. But there was more urgent matters to consider.

The sheriff turned to one of his guards. "Strip off his tunic and tie him to that beam. Maybe two dozen lashes can help him remember who his leader is,"

A desperate roar of anguish rang out and some braver villagers surged forward. There was more than enough soldiers to subdue them as the others carried out the Sheriffs orders.

They wrenched Much's arms around the beam and tied his hands at the wrists. He screwed his eyes shut tight and clenched his teeth, holding on to the beam for dear life.

The Sheriff laughed. "Look he's trembling. I've seen men actually urinate on themselves in such situations Gisborne. They've got no dignity these ruffians." The Sheriff nodded for the soldiers to continue.

The first lash brought on an unmerciful scream from Much. As much as he tried to brace himself he buckled under the searing pain. His legs went from under him.

A soldier approached and he tried to straighten back up quickly before he was man handled.

On the next lash he managed to stay silent, breathing hard through his nose.

"Watch his trousers on the next one Gisborne. They always ..."

The soldier was taken aback when Gisborne put a hand to his shoulder.

"Take him outside and tie him to a tree...put his tunic back on him," Gisborne ordered.

The Sheriff laughed hysterically. "Soft, Gisborne you're gone soft. I knew it,"

"You're drunk!"

"I may be drunk but you're gone soft caring for halfwit boys,"

Gisborne exploded. Grabbing the whip from one of the soldiers he lashed it millimetres from the Sheriffs face.

"This isn't battle," he roared. He held the whip to the Sheriffs face.

"This isn't battle," he said bitterly.

He looked around at the terrified villagers and back at Much. He threw the whip down and left the meeting house in stark silence.

After a moment the soldiers holding Much up turned to the Sheriff.

"Do as he says," he laughed. "In fact tie him to a tree sitting down and cover him with a blanket. I want Gisborne to see that his good influence had impacted on the rest of us,"

Gisborne was at a loss. He was just...at a loss. Hadn't meant to kill him, that boy. Of course he hadn't. Why should he kill a child that young. He didn't see him, he was riding fast through the village, riding fast.

Villagers, he hated them, hated every last one of them. He should kill them all, cowards. Damn cowards who can't stand up to them. Damn cowards. His hands clenched to fists as once again moisture welled in his eyes.

"I need to die in battle," he said aloud.

He was startled as someone approached. He hastily wiped his eyes and scowled expecting one of his guards.

He didn't expect to see a girl. Flecks of blond hair shimmered in the moonlight as she approached.

"Water my lord," she held out a goblet to him.

"Did the sheriff send you," he barked.

She shook her head "no,"

She turned to leave.

Before he could respond she fixed him with a warm smile that rendered him speechless.

He stared after her as she headed back to the huts.