The Blacksmith couldn't believe the predicament he was in. Running from the Sheriff of Nottingham, yet again.
Once he was a soldier in King Richard's guard, just four years ago when he was stationed in the Holy Land. Right in Jerusalem, where most of the fighting took place. He was then captured by Saracen guards and held in a Saracen prison. That was where he met Lord Locksley, Azeem, and Peter Dubois, brother to the Maid Marian. He followed Lord Locksley and Azeem back to England, following their escape from the Saracen prison. When they arrived home on English soil, they soon realized there was another war to be fought. He parted ways with Robin that day, but their paths crossed later, where he became one of the merry men in Robin of Locksley's band of outlaws by default. He managed to escape after their last stand together in the Village Square in Nottingham village in 1194. He had to keep his identity a secret. He quickly learned a new trade as he fled back to the North. No one, not even members of his family knew he was alive. He could not have them think for a moment he was alive. To do so would place them in grave danger. So he fled. A few months later, somewhere along the way, he met his wife, the fair golden haired maiden of Sussex, Isabelle. They married within six months and continued their journey together north. To some he was dead. That was a lie. To Isabelle, he was noble Robert, the Blacksmith. Not an outlaw from Sherwood Forest, during the height of the time where Robin of Locksley reigned as a Prince in Sherwood, the Villages of Locksley, Nottingham, and Nettlestone. For roughly three and half years now, he was living as a fugitive. Running for his life, from the evil and notorious Sheriff of Nottingham. And now, the one thing he had wished for most of all to share with his wife – a child. Finally granted to him and Isabelle, but at what cost? When what should he discover, when it was too late to turn back, after raising the precious babe nearly a fortnight? The Sheriff of Nottingham's baby! Oh, yes. He reminded himself – and the Sheriff's Lady. Huh! Lady indeed! He chuckled. She cannot be much of a lady if she chooses to attach herself to him!
Robert had heard the Sheriff had changed, he even tried to reassure his wife of that just recently. It was well known throughout the land. It was difficult though to comprehend, because Robert was there that day. And he'd seen many other things before the day that Lord of Locksley was slain. Many other public hangings.
He couldn't let the child go. Yet, deep inside of him, he could not deny his only regret was that the child was related to the Sheriff of Nottingham. A man he wished he could forget about. And who was this dark lady who chose by her own free will to stand by this man? What manner of lady would willingly choose the Sheriff over any other man in England? The thought of it made his brain hurt. He must clear his head. He needed to think.
That was his problem. He took on everyone's problems. He'd been doing it since a young lad of sixteen. And a humanitarian to the point where he could forget about his own family if he thought the cause was worth the price. To benefit the greater good, he made many personal sacrifices.
Once he landed on English soil that misty rainy day in 1194, he said goodbye to Locksley and his new companion, Azeem the Moor, and went his separate way. Somehow their paths managed to reconnect days later though near the river crossing, when Robert was now traveling with a band of merry men from Sherwood Forest lead by a funny man, a giant they called John Little. That was the day the merry men met Locksley for the first time, and Robert met him again for the second time. He kept quiet though, he didn't mention he was acquainted with him. Robert was only passing through then. He was trying to gather up enough money together to get back to the little family he still had. The little money he had brought with him, stolen back in the Holy Land following the escape from the prison, was already used up. He was already stealing to support himself. It was going to take time. So Robin and Azeem once again were familiar to him, and this time they had Locksley's servant, Duncan with them. It wasn't long before Robin was the leader they all looked to.
He knew he should have taken his leave of him, long before. Because everything changed the day Locksley flew into camp on the spirited white horse belonging to the Sheriff of Nottingham. He had cut the Sheriff's face, stolen the Sheriff's horse, and a sack of food from a merchant in Nottingham as he made his escape. It was then Robert became a marked man. Even though he was a passing traveler, the mysterious stranger at their outlaw camp, he was now just as wanted as Robin, Little John, Will, Bull, Much, even young Wolf. Just because of his association. And that day, was the day Robert Wordsworth died. In a very tragic event that took place at sea.
In many ways he hated Robin of Locksley just as much as the Sheriff did at the time, even Will Scarlett before he became all soft and pansie like, like a woman! It was Robin of Locksley in fact, who was responsible for stealing his life from him. In some ways he was glad when he was told of the news by Azeem and Little John that the Sheriff had succeeded in killing Robin. Yet still, the Lord of Locksley could not give him his life back.
And so, he had to create a new one.
Everything was going so smoothly, so carefree, finally after years of worry that he would be found out. The Sheriff eventually stopped searching for the band of outlaws, guilty by association with Robin of Locksley. Another disturbing occurrence was taking precedence in the region surrounding Nottingham's Realm. Several maidens began to disappear. The matter was quite concerning. He soon became forgotten, which suited him perfectly. But now, the Sheriff would be seeking him again. And when the Sheriff discovered that not only was he the man who would not relinquish his child when questioned by two of Nottingham's guards when they first came to call, but in fact he was also one of Locksley's former men in the band of outlaws, he cringed at the thought of his punishment.
"Let's see…." He whispered aloud, as he counted off the charges on his fingers.
"One: Aiding and abetting an outlaw. Two: Assisting in the theft of three to four million, a good lot which came from the Sheriff himself. Three: Attempted murder of an appointed official. Four: Treason. Five: (Unknowingly) abducting an infant. Six: Said infant is…Curses! The infant of the appointed official you once tried to murder, with your friend, the outlaw – Lord of Locksley! Seven: Make that another count of treason!"
I will die, Robert thought. There will be no escape. There will be no reasoning with him. No negotiation. No trial. He knew how the Sheriff operated. My capture must not happen. Isabelle and the child – my child – need me. My only family, he thought. I must not be dead to them as well!
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Sheriff escorted Lady Rhiannon to his Lieutenant's private chambers. He explained that he and Guy had some very important business they had to deal with. When they arrived, they found Guy outside of the door speaking with Thomas Crumwell.
"What news, Guy? Thomas?" he nodded to them both. "She is awake?" the Sheriff asked.
"Yes, cousin. Finally." Guy said. They introduced Rhiannon to the physician.
Thomas spoke. "She is very weakened. She still needs rest and nourishment. She should very gradually add daily activities until she is fully recovered."
"Indeed." Guy agreed.
"It may be some time before she is completely restored."
"How long?" the Sheriff asked suddenly. Guy and Thomas were rather puzzled by his interest in the matter.
"A fortnight perhaps." Thomas replied. "Maybe longer."
The Sheriff tried to conceal his disappointment.
They said their goodbyes and the Sheriff left Lady Rhiannon with Mortianna who would take her in the chambers to see her friend.
The Sheriff and Guy started walking down the corridors together, then down the stairs and to the distal far end of the castle.
"Well, cousin. Shall we see how our leper insect friend fared overnight? Following the twenty five lashes issued in case you forgot?" the Sheriff chuckled.
"Yes." Gisborne replied. "That should help the bastard talk."
Several minutes later they were speaking with Hector just outside of the prisoner's cell, about twenty feet away.
"Good morning, my Lord Sheriff." Hector greeted him. He nodded to Guy. "Sir Gisborne."
"Good day." The Sheriff remarked absently, he barely noticed the guard.
"He will cooperate with you, I believe." Hector said carelessly. He immediately realized his mistake.
The Sheriff narrowed his eyes and raised his brow, suddenly taking note of the guard. "Why do you say that? Did you warn him I was coming?" The Sheriff asked slowly, deliberately.
"No." Hector replied as he looked away. The Sheriff drew nearer to him, then swiftly grabbed the young guard by his collar.
"Look at me!" the Sheriff demanded.
Hector looked up at him, slowly to meet his gaze.
"You do not speak to the prisoner. Rule number one! You swore this to me when I appointed you jailer! Have you spoken to that rotten leperous insect?!" the Sheriff hissed as he pointed to the prisoner's cell door with his free hand.
"Once. Very briefly." Hector admitted.
"Continue, boy!" The Sheriff pressed.
"He made a request."
"What did you tell him?" The Sheriff turned his head up slightly and continued to gaze at the guard with narrowed questioning eyes.
"I told him I'm in no position to grant requests. Until I discuss the matter with my employer, the Sheriff of Nottingham." Hector stated. He wished he could slow his racing heart somehow.
"Good." The Sheriff relaxed slightly. He let go of the guard. "We are not finished here, boy! Do not plan to venture very far in the next few moments. We need to continue this chat when this cursed meeting is over!"
"Cousin…" Guy attempted to interrupt.
"We shall be refreshing your memory on the rules of this little operation." The Sheriff went on. "When you are assigned – NO! Appointed – by me, to this specific duty, the jailer of my dungeon, you must be an example to the other guards!" The Sheriff instructed. He was too angered to stop himself now.
"Yes, sir." Hector replied.
"Sire?" Guy interrupted again.
The Sheriff clearly did not notice. He proceeded undeterred by Guy's interjection. "You never… never…converse with the prisoners!" He took his leather glove off with his teeth and used it to swat the guard's head. "Do you know the punishment if I find out you warned him I was coming?" the Sheriff growled.
"Yes." Hector stated.
"Aiding a prisoner is tantamount to treason! Do you understand me?" the Sheriff shouted.
"George!" Guy barked, startling the Sheriff and the young guard.
"What is it?" the Sheriff shouted, rolling his eyes, irritated to be interrupted when he was attempting to teach the guard a lesson.
"This jailer you speak to, this is Hector. He is the guard I told you about. He stopped me from killing the bastard before you arrived back in Nottingham." He paused a moment before he continued. "His is loyal to you."
The Sheriff shook his head slightly as he eyed the young guard curiously.
"Fortunately for you, your obedience may serve you well in this matter." The guard kept his gaze but did not speak. Now was not the time. "But we will still talk after this." The Sheriff said. "I want to know what that little insect wants so badly. Then I would like to know why you cared at all to listen to it!" the Sheriff huffed.
"Yes, my Lord Sheriff."
"Now, give us our privacy. I will send for you when I'm through here."
"Very well." The guard obeyed. He swallowed as he turned to leave. If the prisoner should disclose their discussions to the Sheriff, he would hang for certain.
The Sheriff turned toward Guy. "Now that your lady is recovering, you must keep a better eye on your charges!" He paused to put his glove back on and sighed. "Right under my own nose - I find out a guard, an appointed jailer in my employ - is conversing with a prisoner in my dungeon?! Of all of the unfortunate low life characters in this cursed place – him!" He narrowed his eyes as he leaned in closer to Guy. "Your golden boy chooses to speak to him!" the Sheriff spat.
"Yes, cousin. I have been somewhat distracted lately. But Hector had proven his loyalty to you, that day in your absence. I never perceived him to be a threat."
"You are my Lieutenant, Guy. You're clear on the rules. When we have a rat among us, you know what we must do. Let me put it to you simply. What do we do when we have doubt, cousin?" The Sheriff tested him, his jaw set in anger, his eyes turned to steel.
"We eliminate all doubt." Guy replied.
"Indeed." The Sheriff nodded. "You had better keep an eye on your golden boy. Or for the first time in over three years, I will be hanging one of my staff for treason!"
"Indeed." Guy replied. He remembered the last time, when the Sheriff had the guard hanged for failing to stop Locksley from escaping the castle grounds, the day the Sherwood bandit cut up the Sheriff's face, right in front of him!
"I haven't gone completely sentimental, Guy." He said, lowering his voice as they moved closer to the prisoner's cell door. "You might not think I'll do it. But if I find out that golden boy of yours is feeding information to that murderous leper in there – he will hang for treason!"
Guy nodded.
"You have a key." The Sheriff asked.
"Yes." Guy produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the door leading into the prisoner's cell.
The prisoner was suspended by chains still. A good sign the guard did not give in. His shirt was torn and bloodied from the lashings of the day before.
The Sheriff walked toward him and drew his sword. He extended it out toward the prisoner, and used the tip of the blade to move the rough fabric of the gauzy shirt over the fresh wounds on the prisoner's trunk.
"Slept well, I trust?" the Sheriff grinned.
"Like a baby." The prisoner slowly opened his eyes, and widened them, fixing them upon his enemy.
"Tell us your name." The Sheriff said, in a bored tone, as he moved the blade of the sword up close to the prisoner's neck. He moved in a little closer.
"I have no name."
"Do not play games with me!" the Sheriff barked as he snaked the blade closer still into the angry flesh of the prisoner.
"It is no matter. To me, or to you."
"You were once in Locksley's band of outlaws. Alas, I have not forgotten." The Sheriff hissed.
"Whatever." The prisoner mumbled.
"You betrayed me once before, Knight! For you were very convincing, when you were suspended, inverted from chains in this very dungeon, and you swore to me you would kill Locksley for me!" He put the sword down and back in its' sheath. "Oh yes indeed you were, my leperous little insect friend – very convincing."
"I would've killed him. I planned to." The prisoner muttered.
"Really? What changed?" the Sheriff asked impatiently.
"As if I would tell you!" the prisoner retorted.
"Oh you shall. You shall indeed." The Sheriff drew nearer to the prisoner. "I have not forgotten your friends. Don't think I have. If you would cooperate and tell me where to find the remaining men who once consorted and aided Locksley, it may just serve you well." The Sheriff cleared his throat. "I could issue a lesser sentence."
"Ha! You think I actually believe you?"
"What else do you have to believe in?" The Sheriff grinned. He looked around then extended his arms out beside him indicating the expanse of the cell. "Alas, nobody has come forward begging for your release."
"No matter what I tell you, you will kill me."
"Oh yes, it is true. But whatever you disclose decides if the manner in which it is executed will be quick and relatively painless. Or rather in a very slow, agonizing manner." He smirked.
"Perhaps." The prisoner toyed with him. "If you could grant my request."
"Oh yes. Your request! We'll see about that!" the Sheriff laughed.
"If you would only listen to your guard. Then I could tell you about the fugitives who once served with me." A beat. "Under Lord of Locksley." He enunciated his brother's title. He knew that would ruffle the Sheriff's feathers.
"Lord of Nothing, you mean! He certainly is of no use now to anyone, is he?" the Sheriff taunted.
"Did you speak to your lady, about what we talked about yesterday?" the prisoner asked.
"We're done here, Guy." The Sheriff announced, dismissing the prisoner's irrelevant comment.
"Talk to the guard. He knows my request." The prisoner stated as the Sheriff and Guy let themselves out.
When they were outside the door Guy went to find Hector, and brought him back to meet with the Sheriff.
"My Lord Sheriff." Hector addressed his master.
"Now, boy." The Sheriff said, as he put his hand on the guard's shoulder. "Tell me what the leperous insect needs or wants so very badly. So badly in fact - that you would pay any heed to it?"
"He wishes to have his hood."
The Sheriff laughed. "So you felt pity for him, didn't you?"
"No, sir."
"Why do you care if he should have his hood?"
Luckily Hector was quick witted. "Some of the guards have been complaining, sir."
"Excuse me?" the Sheriff asked for clarification.
"He is hideous to look upon, my Lord Sheriff. As it turns out, the prisoner and your guards in this matter, wish the same thing: to cover his face."
The Sheriff pondered this a moment. He looked to Guy. Guy shrugged. He could not advise the Sheriff one way or the other. He understood both points of view.
"Hmm. I suppose that is true." The Sheriff said. "But hear my words, boy! If this is part of a trick – if I find out you've been feeding information to this prisoner, conversing in any way – a warrant for your arrest will be issued. You know the punishment for betrayal."
"Indeed." Hector replied.
"He can have his cursed hood. And another twenty lashes!" The Sheriff instructed.
"Yes, my Lord Sheriff."
"Remember what I said, boy." the Sheriff said before he proceeded to leave. "Remember – the punishment for betrayal."
