In retrospect, Gisburne realized how lucky he had been not to have barged into the conversation between the Sheriff and the King. The knight had long ago stopped using the term 'luck' in regard to himself, but he had to admit that the fact that he had been able to overhear the two men without being discovered could not be called anything else.

"As if there weren't already enough problems with the Barons, de Rainault!" John Lackland had hissed just at the moment the knight came within hearing distance.

"If Brewer hadn't been late, my Liege ..." the Sheriff was also trying to make a point.

"Are you again trying to wriggle out of the situation, de Rainault?" the King countered. "Shouldn't you instead be concerned about how you can get my stolen grain back as quickly as possible?"

"Hood has already removed it, my Liege." Gisburne did not expect that the King would be prepared to hear that kind of excuse, and immediately he was proved to be right.

"Hood, Hood. You'd probably like to use that as an excuse for all your failures, wouldn't you, de Rainault?" John's tone was quite caustic, though also still - surprisingly - calm.

"It's not my fault that we can't get hold of him. If...", de Rainault did not get to finish his sentence, nevertheless the knight was certain that it was his name that would have come up.

"Don't detract, de Rainault. You are responsible for the son, I have to deal with the father. The Earl believes he is allowed to stick his nose into all my affairs with impunity and would be allowed to offer me advice. He also considers himself untouchable since his brother is King of Scotland. And he also seems to be of the opinion that I need the support of his family. And damn it, he's right about that too. I wish I didn't have to deal with this man anymore, with this allegedly so loyal Earl. As if he had nothing to do with the fact that his son now goes by the name of Robin Hood. Someone else as Earl of Huntingdon would suit me very well." The King had talked himself into a frenzy, which may have explained his reason for speaking in such terms about one of the most influential nobles in the realm.

Alas, just as the Sheriff was about to reply, Gisburne became aware that someone was approaching him. Since he did not want to be caught eavesdropping on the King, he had no choice but to withdraw silently. For this reason, he could not hear what the two men were saying to each other.

However, what he had heard up to this point caused him enough distress. He knew that the King often complained about the English Barons, but what he had just overheard him say about the Earl of Huntingdon was much more than that. Gisburne would never claim that the Earl was close to him in any way. On the contrary, if anything, he probably had a problem with him, placing some of the blame on him for having to deal with a second Hood. After all, he was his father. The knight's opinion had not been altered by the fact that the Earl had disinherited and disowned his son as soon as it was proven that he had joined the outlaws, because what did that signify? Definitely not that he would hand over his son. There was nothing that could convince the knight of that.

On the other hand, he did not believe that he would ever go against the King. The Earl had always been loyal to the Crown and - unlike the Sheriff - he was serious about that. To hear now that John would prefer to see someone else in his position was asking for a lot of trouble, especially when Gisburne considered to whom the King had mentioned this.

Even the knight had immediately understood what had not been stated, so the Sheriff was definitely able to do so. Still, Gisburne would not have bothered about the matter any further - Huntingdon could figure out for himself how to get out of this mess, maybe Hood would help him - if he were not sure that de Rainault was going to drag him into whatever it was he was up to. As far as the knight knew, the man had never gotten his hands dirty in person; after all, he had a steward for that sort of work. Gisburne had already had to do all sorts of stuff for his Lord - among them a pogrom on the Jews of Nottingham, but also the theft of a relic from a monastery. None of this was the sort of business the knight had been able to put behind him so easily, and this would be even more true for an assassination of an Earl who had a brother who was King. This was not the sort of incident that Gisburne wanted to get involved in. Definitely not. But would he still have a choice once the Sheriff brought his name into play? That was now no more likely than it had been when King Richard had been involved. What had resulted from that still gave him nightmares to these days.

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„Giiisbuuurne!"

The knight had just gotten back from Newark with the Sheriff and had hoped to get at least a little time off before he again had to deal with de Rainault. Apparently, however, this was not to be granted to him.

Sir Guy had never been pleased about the Sheriff's habit of bellowing his steward's name across the Great Hall of Nottingham Castle. At first he had thought it simply rude, but eventually it had come to have more to do with what the man was asking of him. And in the meantime, it was the way he treated him that made him wish de Rainault would stop yelling his name. Since the events at Grimstone, things had changed again in that regard, for Gisburne was not able to forget so easily that the Sheriff had thrown him to the wolves without batting an eye - even though, of course, the man could not have known that it would literally come to that. While the knight could certainly understand that de Rainault had sacrificed him to save himself, he could not forgive him for not making the slightest effort to protect the knight, even though he had once sworn to do so. Just as Gisburne had sworn to be loyal to him in return. And most of the time he had also made an effort to keep his oath.

When Gulnar had given him the opportunity to take revenge on the Sheriff, he had to realize that there were indeed certain things he would shy away from. This had come as a surprise to him, mainly since he had actually assumed that by now he would be willing to do anything. In that respect, however, he had been mistaken. Later on, he was given another opportunity to get rid of the Sheriff, and once again he had not been able to do so. Instead, he had once again trusted the other man's word that he would save him - Sir Guy of Gisburne - from the gallows ... or the axe of the executioner. But could he really trust de Rainault in this respect, would the man really stand up for him, especially when it was to be expected that it would cost him some gold.

Moreover, Gisburne could not get out of his mind what he had overheard in Newark. So far, however, the Sheriff had not approached him about this matter, although he would certainly have had ample opportunity to do so on the ride back to Nottingham.

Maybe now was the right time?

"Giiisbuuurne!" The Sheriff was unable to hide his impatience, but he probably had not meant to.

"My Lord?" the knight responded to him as soon as he arrived at the foot of the stairs, by which the hall could also be reached.

"Where have you been, Gisburne?" Could the man never leave him alone?

"There were some issues with the horses," the knight attempted to explain to him why he had only just come in from the castle bailey.

"Horses! Obviously, these are more important to you than I am," the older man sneered.

The knight knew that it would be useless if he tried to tell the other one that it had been his horse that had caused the problems, so he refrained from doing so.

"My Lord, what is your wish?" he tried instead to figure out what was troubling the man now. Surely he would not want to bring up the issue with Huntingdon in front of the servants, would he?

In fact, the Sheriff took his time replying until his steward had come very close. "The King wasn't too thrilled about his grain being lost," he then proceeded to launch into what had led to Gisburne's run to Grimstone. De Rainault, however, did not give his steward a chance to remark anything on the matter, instead changing the subject all at once. "I was amazed that you managed to make yourself so inconspicuous in Newark," he teased the steward.

'What's it you want, man?" Sir Guy mused. If he attracted attention, the Sheriff did not like it. If he held back, he grumbled, as well. Probably he would prefer the knight to drop dead. Ideally, he should thereby drop on Hood, so that he would then be rid of him as well.

"My Lord," he only managed to utter, however, not bothering to keep outrage out of his voice.

"Forget it," the other one shrugged off, though, quite surprisingly. "We have other problems. Come along!"

Of course, the knight had no choice but to obey this order and withdraw together with de Rainault to his chambers, the very place where such matters were discussed that no one should overhear. But this was also the place where de Rainault planned his machinations. Whenever he had to go there, the knight suspected trouble.

"In Newark, the King conveyed the impression to me that we could not regain his favor with gold alone. If we don't want to risk losing our heads over this grain issue after all, then we'll have to prove our loyalty." The Sheriff paused, but was obviously still unwilling to allow the knight the opportunity to comment. Instead, he gave his steward a calculating stare, as if to point out to him that he should have also been aware of what he had said.

"It wouldn't be too bad if we could claim the victory over Gulnar, but I don't think even I will be able to accomplish that. If you had tried a little harder in this regard, Gisburne, our prospects would now be a lot better."

These words caught the knight quite off guard, apart from the fact that he also felt them to be unjustified.

"My Lord, I had to get you to safety," he tried to explain the situation.

"Nonsense. I could have done that on my own. You, on the other hand, have once again managed to give Hood the upper hand. Now you'll have to work all the harder to win back the King's favor, Gisburne."

The knight did not know how to respond to this insolence, though it had just left him speechless. No matter what the other one said now, he would never have avoided death through his own efforts. During the escape through the forest, he had still spoken differently, and Gisburne had once again bought it. How could he have been so gullible? After all these years, he should have known better.

The Sheriff pretended not to have spotted his steward's reaction to these words - although it could not have escaped his notice - and was already continuing to speak. "However, I already have an idea how we can prove to the King that we stand by him. I will say no more right now, though, except that it would benefit both of us, Gisburne."

The knight had kept a close eye on the other man, for he had certainly expected that the latter would now come to speak about the Earl of Huntingdon, but obviously the whole matter was even more tricky than Gisburne had previously assumed. He regretted that he had not heard the rest of the conversation between the King and de Rainault, for then he would have been better prepared. On the other hand, he was glad that he had at least heard some of it, otherwise he would be completely clueless now.

However, it had not escaped Sir Guy that the Sheriff had not been able to keep a certain disappointment out of his voice. The knight had a hunch in this regard, too, for he was well aware that de Rainault had already lent his support to the then Prince John - or more precisely, the Duke of Mortain - when the latter's brother Richard was still favoring his nephew Geoffrey as heir. But now the Sheriff had to endure being lumped together with those who had always opposed the King. The knight knew his master so well that he was aware that this could not suit Robert de Rainault.

Gisburne had no choice but to assure the other man that he was at his disposal, even though he was sure he already knew what the latter would demand of him. But he was also sure that he did not want to do that, but in any case he was not allowed to voice that out loud. However, he had spent the last night reflecting again on what he had overheard, as well as on what he assumed would be demanded of him. It had become apparent to him that there was a huge difference between killing someone named Ralph, who hailed from Huntingdon, and murdering the Earl of Huntingdon, the brother of the Scottish King.

That being said, he also had not forgotten what had happened the last time he had allowed himself to be drawn into such a plot. Gloucester had had no trouble reeling him in, but he was not about to let that occur a second time. Moreover, he was sure that the Sheriff and he might be able to deceive the rest of the Barons - the King himself would definitely refrain from looking too closely - but Hood would not leave it alone until he had found his father's killer. It would be easier for him to just hand himself over to the King's executioner and it would save him a lot of pain and torture. Of course, it would be even better if he would never find himself in such a situation in the first place.

He still harbored hopes, however, that he had been mistaken in the intentions of both King and Sheriff, and that it would not come to the point where he had to decide whether he would rather incur the wrath of the King or that of Hood.

"You'd better, Gisburne," de Rainault uttered with some contempt, as if the knight had not saved his life at Grimstone. "But that will be all for now. When I can say more, however, you should be ready."

With these words the knight was dismissed, but he had to pull himself together not to flee from the presence of the Sheriff. By doing so, however, the knight would draw the Sheriff's attention to the fact that he was not quite as ignorant as he pretended to be.

Although de Rainault had not yet given him the outright order to assassinate the Earl of Huntingdon, Gisburne was sure he was in for another sleepless night. He could already feel the noose tightening around his neck.

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The battle had already started at dawn and the day was now drawing to a close. At times one of the forces was able to gain the upper hand, at other times the second, but during the last hour it had gotten more difficult to follow the course of the fighting, since the scene of the battle had shifted from the plains to the adjoining forest. Therefore, no one could claim now to have an overview.

Some time ago he had already realized that he did not know for sure where his allies were located and where the enemy was. With the remainder of the soldiers who had already been at his side throughout the day, he strayed between the trees, and the fog, which had rolled in rather unexpectedly after the sun had passed its peak, made it even more difficult to tell in time whether one was encountering friend or foe.

Many of his comrades - most of whom had been known to him for years - had already perished, and he had not remained unscathed. But none of his injuries were so severe that they would prevent him from continuing to fight. He was also aware that there were only two ways for him to leave the battlefield. Either he would go out as a victor or he would be dead. Although he had to assume that his corpse would rot out here if his party lost the battle, though he would not be interested in that at that point. On the other hand, it was not an option for him to fall into the hands of the enemy while still alive, for he was only too aware of what would then await him. The others had all too accurately described this, and he had no reason not to believe them.

He would never have imagined that a battle could last for a whole day. Probably, this was only possible due to the fact that there had always been breaks in between the fighting. Of course, not for everyone at the same time, but it had been possible for everyone who had survived up to that point to rest at least once and regain their strength. Moreover, no one should underestimate what the realization of having no way out did to the men. He had not believed that himself.

But at the latest, when darkness fell, the two warring parties would have to retreat. Then everyone would try to rejoin their allies, but it was sure that not everyone could achieve this. Which was then tantamount to not being able to survive. If he somehow could exert some influence on the matter, then this should not happen to him.

After realizing that there was no one but them in this spot, he had of course taken the opportunity to rest a bit, but now it seemed that this respite was coming to an end, for he thought he heard suspicious noises. Immediately he signaled his men to get ready for battle and did so himself, although he was already quite exhausted. But what else could he do?

However, the fog made it almost impossible to see or hear anything, so he was not sure if anyone at all was approaching. And if there was, he had no way of knowing if it was friend or foe. He hoped, of course, to be able to tell before it came to fighting, but he could not wait too long to reach a decision, for he had no more intention of letting himself be killed by his allies than by the enemy.

But then he had no time to take at least a quick look at the others, for they appeared quite abruptly in their midst, and then he found himself in a duel. To his chagrin, he had to realize that it was not only the fog that was causing him problems, but also his exhaustion. If he had not undergone such a good training and if he had not been used to fighting from a young age, he would probably now be drenched in his own blood. But so far he had succeeded time and again in dodging his opponent. However, so did the enemy.

All of a sudden, and quite unexpectedly, he managed to breach the other man's guard, whereupon he drove his sword into his belly. For a brief moment he imagined to feel some pain, but at the same time he was distracted from that, for it seemed to him as if the fog would dissolve as if by magic, and immediately thereafter he was certain that he had not been mistaken and that there was indeed magic involved. All of a sudden, he was able to see with whom he had been battling, and at that moment he realized what a monumental mistake he had made.

He had already dropped to his knees before he had been aware of the consequences of his actions. Trying to stop the bleeding, he bent over the other man, although he was not sure if it was not already too late.

"Father!" he cried out in horror.

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The knight gasped for air as if he were drowning, having just managed to break the surface of the water. For a moment he did not know where he happened to be, before he realized that he was in his own bed in his chamber in Nottingham Castle, whereupon he released the air he had been holding without noticing.

Just a moment later, he became aware that he was drenched in sweat, though this was not really a surprise to him, for this was how he had fared every time this dream haunted him. And in fact, this had already occurred many times. More precisely: his entire life, as far as he could remember.

As a little boy, he had run to his mother to be comforted by her, even though she was never able to explain to him why that very dream was recurring. When he got a little older, he refrained from doing so, not because this haunting no longer scared him, but simply on account of the fact that his mother's husband had made it quite clear to him that he would not tolerate him seeking refuge with his mother. At that point he had had to choose between two situations, both of which terrified him, and he had chosen the dream. However, he had never told the man about it.

By now he had almost gotten used to it, although he always experienced the horror of the fight, which had never diminished over the years, not even after he had been exposed to it in reality. He had only gotten better at suppressing the reminder of the dream. Yet he had never been able to shake off the horror that came with the deed in his dream, even though he had so often longed to be able to kill the man with his own hands, whom everyone believed to be his father. Perhaps the dream would have stopped haunting him if he had actually been able to accomplish this, but it had not been granted to him. Thus, his dream-self continued to feel the immense horror that came over him as soon as he understood against whom he had fought.

There was no one except his mother with whom he had talked about the dream, mainly since this was a very personal matter. However, it also had something to do with the fact that - in his opinion - it would make him vulnerable, and he simply could not allow that to happen. Probably that was why he had not yet figured out why he always dreamed about the same situation, why he found himself in a forest while fighting in the fog, not knowing if he was going to face a foe or an ally.

If this dream had come to him after his first fights with Hood, he would have immediately assumed that the outlaw had been the trigger. But he had first dreamed of this battle as a young boy, so this was something he could not blame Hood for.

While pondering why this particular dream kept haunting him, the knight had gradually managed to get his breathing back under control, but nonetheless he knew he would not find any sleep that night. But it was actually quite amazing that he had fallen asleep at all, as he had been racking his brains about what to do if the Sheriff should indeed order him to kill the Earl. Before sleep overtook him, however, he was no closer to a solution.

Gisburne had already noticed a few times that he had fallen asleep on those nights in which he had had this dream, although there was every reason not to, and therefore he suspected that this might be the case this time as well. In other respects, however, he was absolutely sure, even though he had no explanation for that either. However, he was well aware of the fact that this dream had always preceded an event that had had a drastic effect on his life. Despite this, he had often just tried to immediately forget about the dream, though it was only due to the fact that he had not been able to change anything about his situation. He only had to recall the time when he had been ordered by the King to slaughter a pardoned outlaw while he slept, which had almost cost him his life.

Before he had entered the service of the de Rainault brothers, it had been different. After he had finally realized during his time in Normandy that the dream was a warning, he had used this knowledge to stay alive. In Nottingham, he no longer had that kind of freedom. The last time he had received such a warning had been the night right before the tournament in Derby - in which he had wanted to participate. But he had never had the opportunity to deal with it and, moreover, he had had a lot of practice in denying the dream.

But this time he wanted to heed the warning, for he was not prepared to surrender to the upcoming situation without a fight. The King and Sheriff should not be able to involve him in their plots one more time, even though he had sworn an oath to both of them. But he had reached the conclusion that assassinating an Earl who had done nothing but keep giving John Lackland a piece of his mind - and not keeping his son in check - was way beyond any loyalty. Besides, he could not hope that either man would protect him if something went wrong. Nor, for that matter, if everything went according to plan, in which case he would be, at best, an inconvenient accomplice.

Now he was convinced that the fresh haunting by the dream could only signify that the Sheriff was about to order him to do the killing. But he also knew he could not afford to wait to hear the words from de Rainault's lips. This would certainly be his death sentence.

For this reason, he knew precisely what he had to do at this point, even if the very idea terrified him.