Please be lenient with occasional mistakes or clumsy expressions. I don't have a beta and somehow I'm not that sontent with my translation either. But I've reread the chapter several times had have not come up with better expressions; so I decided to post it.
Illusions 5
Vaysey would not have searched for him; this Guy was sure of. He knew that it was rather futile to look for someone in these endless woods. Nevertheless, Guy was not so careless to think himself safe. It was only a couple of hours he had gained, not more. The Sheriff's influence went a long way, like a cob web it covered big parts of the country. Prince John, who had instigated Vaysey and the other Black Knights to the scheme against King Richard, might think that the Sheriff was loyal to him, but Guy knew more. John Softsword had got only a small percentage of the taxes Vaysey had raised. The majority had been used to buy supporters for the Sheriff all over the country. After King Richard's death his brother would also meet an untimely end and Vaysey would try to use the inevitable chaos to his advantage.
Prince John mistook the Sheriff for a little, self-important man he could use for his purposes; he didn't know that many knights had been bought by Vaysey. This network could be Guy's downfall, a contretemps and he might lose freedom and life. In these short hours when he had lain in the dilapidated hut in the forest, he had come to the decision to leave for France. Many an English nobleman had found his way and besides, he knew France; he had spent a part of his childhood in the Guienne.
He would miss England, but there was no other way and money wasn't a problem anymore.
His body ached; it was time that he took a break again. In the charburner's hut he had not slept and he had been in the saddle too long. His horse was exhausted and Guy felt how weariness overtook him too. Shortly thereafter he reached a village. The inn was small and dirty, but he didn't care. Guy gave his stallion to the servant and crawled into his bed only minutes later. Only when the sun was high in the sky, he woke. After an ample breakfast, he bought some supplies from the innkeeper and rode on.
Guy knew that he would draw attention to himself with his black leather clothing. He had to get rid of it; at the latest shortly before he journeyed to France. Besides, it was impossible to stay in the saddle so long day after day. His horse was excellent, but he knew that the ride had taken its toll. Unless he wanted it to break down, he had to take a break.
Some days later he arrived at London; this city was swarming with people and big enough to shelter him for a short time. Guy had several garments made and the knight, who boarded the ship to France, didn't look different from the other English noblemen on the vessel.
Looking at the horizon and the land appearing in the mist, he remembered how he had made this journey for the first time, a little, timid boy at that time, but yet a hatred in his heart towards Richard Plantagenet, which had never withered. His grandmother had been a benign woman, but she had to pinch and scrape and he had hated his shabby garments and the old weapons. She had not known what to do with the withdrawn boy, although the scars on his back had been telltale, and she had understood the reason for his distrustful, nearly hostile demeanour.
Guy breathed freely. These times lay long behind him; now he had enough money for a carefree life, although he would not possess power and influence he had dreamt of, but it was futile to think about it. He had awoken from his illusions about the Sheriff and Marian just in time; never again he would make himself dependant from other people and never again he would believe words of love and trust from a woman.
It was a rich city he had chosen as his new residence: Bordeaux; the contrast to Nottingham could not have been bigger and Guy breathed freely. He didn't know how long he would stay here, but he liked what he saw and he had enough money to enjoy his life.
Today, it was market day and the city swarmed with people. The sun glittered on the rooftops and the urchins shouted in the streets. Potters offered mugs and plates for sale, basket makers were sitting at the corner of the marketplace, and the scent of spices tickled the noses. Countrywomen were standing behind their pushcarts with loads of apples, grapes and turnips; in the cages chickens cackled and doves cooed.
He entered the tavern where a deafening noise greeted him. At the sight of Guy the tavern wenches began to whisper and one of them flashed a knowing glance at him. The magnificent looking knight, who had come to Bordeaux a few weeks ago, attracted the attention of many a women. He was tall and broad-shouldered, muscular without being too beefy; he had dark, slightly curled hair and a short full beard. Sometimes his light eyes shimmered grey, another time blue. He was definitely a ladies' man, although so far none of them had managed to become his favourite.
The laughter at the table subsided briefly when Guy approached the table. At first sight besides his good looks the English night seemed to be the same as many other noblemen who came to Bordeaux. He was dressed fashionably; he gambled and drank with the others. But it was not only the chill in his blue eyes and the arrogance he radiated, which made the men react cautiously. The other week he had broken a horse trader's wrist without further ado, who had tried to sell him a mare with fined down teeth and some days later a drunkard in the tavern had found himself with Guy's dagger at his throat when he had accused him of cheating with the dice. He had sobered very quickly after that and no one had dared to insult Guy after that.
One of the men pushed a chair aside for Guy and he sat down. Adrienne brought the usual tankard with wine for Guy and he put his arms around her hips and patted her absentmindedly. Obviously, he paid more attention to the men playing cards today. Adrienne had hoped that she would share his bed again tonight, but when she set down bread and venison on the table and he didn't pay attention to her, she left the table, disappointed.
Yvette grinned gleefully. That served her right, the silly goose! She shouldn't have boasted and told everybody how often she had carried on with Sir Guy. Probably she had exaggerated; no man could….although…Jeanne had told her…oh là là!...One woman didn't seem to be enough to satisfy his appetite. Yvette smiled sadly. She knew that she had no chance whatsoever to arouse this knight's attention with her pockmarked face. How much she would have liked to…."Yvette! You're not paid for standing around and sleeping. Get wine!" She sighed and set to work.
It was three months now that Guy had been living in France now, far away from the Sheriff's reach. Nobody knew him and he could be content. For the first time in years he was able to call the shots, nobody telling him what to do, and he could enjoy life. He should be content, but he was not; he realised that he was not made for this kind of life. Sometimes when he was alone at night, he remembered the dreams he had harboured, the Gisborne estates, Marian, their children…. He had made a fool of himself, believing in love and in Marian's pure heart, believing that she would be able to cleanse his soul.
What a hypocrite she had been – but still he had not been able to kill her. Even when he had realised the extent of her betrayal, he had been too weak to let her pay. Guy laughed out loud and the maidservant, who had put meat, bread and wine on the table, had been startled by the grim expression on her lord's face. Sometimes the lord was downright scary.
Guy had been lucky with the dices and had won another mare and a fur lined cloak. It had been louder than usual and the landlord had kicked out several drunken guests. Now it was quiet; only a few men were sitting at the tables, most of them with their heads on their arms, others with a wench on their lap. Guy was not in the mood for female company tonight. The wine had been good and he felt a rather pleasant drowsiness.
It was late when he stepped out of the tavern; he inhaled the balmy breeze. The moon was high on the sky. Guy was walking slowly towards the house he had rented, when he stumbled over something that was lying in the midst of the street. He nearly lost his balance; he heard a groan and in the wan moonlight he saw who it was.