"GIIISBUUURNE!"

The knight hastened to answer his Lord's call without any delay - if one wanted to describe the yelling in such a way - since after the debacle with the relic from Croxden Abbey he had to - and was determined to - be careful not to antagonize the Sheriff even more. He had no intention of provoking the discontent - or rather the anger - of de Rainault, but at the moment this was easier said than done, since the older man apparently saw no reason to let his deputy - yes, Gisburne could still "enjoy" this post, at least in the eyes of outsiders - get away with anything that he had not given his explicit consent to. Getting this approval was almost impossible at the moment.

"My Lord?" the knight brought out, struggling to catch his breath, for he had run down the stairs as he could not afford to keep the Sheriff waiting.

"Finally, there you are. Have you been huddled in a corner sleeping off your drunkenness?"

Even though the knight was well aware that he could not afford to make any remarks, he found it hard not to react to this insult. But the Sheriff's mood had become so foul that it was not beyond him to strike at his subordinate. In public. The relationship between the two men had deteriorated extremely after the Abbot of Croxden had accused de Rainault of inciting Gisburne to steal the relic, something that was quite true. Of course, the knight had not voiced anything in this regard, despite his own amazement that he had been able to remain silent when de Rainault gave vent to all his rage over the Abbot's statement. This restraint had probably spared Gisburne some unpleasantness, even if he had not been able to escape the Sheriff's displeasure entirely.

Sir Guy was only too aware that it would not take much on his part to further anger his Lord. However, the knight certainly did not want to be slapped in front of the servants and the common soldiers, so he swallowed all the insults, even the ones he would have usually spoken out on.

But de Rainault, to be sure, found something new right away. "Cat got your tongue, Gisburne?"

"No, My Lord." The knight realized that he could not help but utter something nevertheless.

"Oh, you can talk after all," the other man scoffed, but then did not give his deputy a chance to react, for he proceeded to speak right away. "You need to take a look at Belleme Castle. First thing tomorrow!"

"Belleme Castle?" This time Gisburne was unable to remain silent, for these words brought back memories of that place and made him shudder. He had sworn never again to return there.

"Didn't I just say that, Idiot!" the Sheriff harangued him. "Are you hard of hearing now, too?"

The knight was sure that there was no way he would be allowed to answer this question, so he focused on something else.

"Why do you want me to take a look at the castle?" he inquired instead, hoping this would be the right response to the Sheriff's words. Since no cup or anything else were thrown, it seemed he was not mistaken either.

"Several travelers have reported seeing someone in the castle. Check it out!" de Rainault informed the knight tersely.

Again a cold shiver ran down Gisburne's spine as he recalled the man who had lived there.

"Is it possible that the Baron has returned to England?" he then ventured to ask a question in return.

"Don't act dumber than you are anyway, Gisburne. If de Belleme had returned, I would have known about it. Apart from that, what reason would he have to come back from wherever-he-is to some ruin. The man is not known by everyone as an idiot, is he?" The words 'unlike you' had not been uttered by de Rainault, but the knight could hear them all too clearly nonetheless, so he was only too glad at that very moment that the Sheriff was restraining himself, at least to some degree, in the publicity of the Great Hall. He was likewise glad, however, that this conversation was not taking place in the Sheriff's private chambers, where he would have had to face the older one without any witnesses. Being alone with him was not a good option at the moment, for that always caused distress. Or something worse.

"No one would willingly enter the castle, My Lord," he nevertheless could not hold back a remark.

"I hear there are some men who don't piss their pants at the thought of the Baron." Once again the knight was quite sure to know what the other one had not said and this time it was more than hard for him not to object, for he was very loath to be called a coward. This was in no way the truth and he was quite proud of that. Also, this was probably all he had left of what he could be proud of. He had already lost everything else in the service to the Sheriff. For this reason, he now bit his lip to avoid blurting something out after all. Unfortunately, he had to assume that this had not remained hidden from the other.

"That's all, Gisburne. Now get thee gone, that I may not see thy face again for the rest of the evening!"

The knight bowed - of necessity - to the Sheriff before turning around and leaving the hall at a quick pace, all too aware that anyone who crossed his way would be able to see how his face was burning from the humiliation he had been subjected to.

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The knight's reluctance to approach the crumbling walls of Belleme Castle was so intense that it had already spilled over to his stallion. Fury, who otherwise followed every hint - or rather, every twitch of his Master's muscles - had to be actually forced this time to start moving in the direction of the ruins, which further worsened the knight's mood. If it had been any other horse, he might even have resorted to the whip, although it was a horror to him to mistreat these beasts. But he found it even more appalling to have to realize that it had already come to such a point with him that he could not even pull himself together in this respect. Fortunately for Fury, he considered the stallion a friend, so the latter was safe from his wrath, even if he was not behaving as he should.

Gisburne would have preferred to avoid this task, but he did not dare to deceive the Sheriff. The latter had made this abundantly clear to him prior to his setting off, although the knight had tried to avoid running into his Lord yet again. He had wanted to be on his way before dawn, but these efforts had availed him nothing. Just as he was about to set Fury in motion, de Rainault had appeared on the stairs and had roared across the entire bailey, so that his words could not be missed by any of those who were also present there at the time.

"Don't you dare shirk this assignment, Gisburne. You have never been able to lie to me in the past and I would be able to tell this time as well if you don't give me the truth. With lying it is the same as with everything else. You are incapable of it."

At that very moment, all the knight could think about was the fact that it was still too dark to let others see how his face burned with shame at the Sheriff's words.

It was not surprising that he was in a hurry to leave Nottingham, but that was not the case for the rest of the journey. Once he was far enough away from the town and the castle - and the Sheriff - he took his time, because he was not eager to arrive at his destination too quickly. Apart from that, the weather was still quite acceptable and the life in Nottingham Castle had not made him so soft that he was no longer able to spend a few nights sleeping rough. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he was glad for the opportunity, especially since he could expect to have his peace and quiet during this time. He did not know at all when this might last have been the case.

But of course, this was only true if he did not run into any outlaws. Or rather: if he did not run into THE outlaw. However, in his opinion, this was rather unlikely, for even he would not willingly set out for Belleme Castle. He himself would not do that either, but he really had no choice in this respect.

Since Gisburne did not have to consider whether he should actually be doing what he had set out to do - it was certain that he had no other choice, for he was well aware of what would happen to him should the Sheriff, upon his return, deem that he had not carried out the order to his contentment - the knight was even able to enjoy his journey - despite the objective. Unfortunately, in recent years he had rarely had the opportunity to travel alone and do what he wanted - with some limitations. He had deliberately refrained from taking soldiers with him, mainly since he did not assume that they would have followed him into the castle. Even if they had, they would have turned back pretty quickly. Moreover, he could do without bringing witnesses to what would in all likelihood happen to him at his destination. Any company would just be mouths that would gossip about the knight back in Nottingham, and he certainly did not want any of that. Even so, life in the castle had already become quite unpleasant for him.

Unfortunately, even this journey came to an end and he found himself in the very place where the infamous dark mage Simon de Belleme had been wreaking havoc for many a year. In fact, even after he had been killed by Robin Hood.

When Gisburne recalled the last time he had been here, he could not prevent a shudder. Then it occurred to him that it was not the last time he remembered, for it had not turned out to be too unpleasant to have to accompany the Sheriff when the latter paid his respects to the Baron. On that occasion, in fact, he had been able to enjoy de Rainault's incredulous horror. Especially after the man had belittled and ridiculed him so much when he delivered de Belleme's message to him and had to tell him that the Baron was still alive - or rather, was alive again. The knight was still convinced that the Sheriff had only accompanied him to prove what a fool he was. What finally resulted from the affair had led to a certain - morbid - satisfaction on Gisburne's part.

It was the time before that he had just thought of. The day he had come here with Ralph of Huntingdon to retrieve the late Baron's gems. This had turned out to be something of an entirely different caliber. What had occurred back then still haunted his dreams, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he had had to give his newly acquired wealth - with which he had wanted to buy his freedom from the Sheriff - directly back to the resurrected Baron. Resurrected! The knight had always refused to believe that something like magic would actually exist. But that had not prevented him from accusing that bitch from Elsdon of being a witch. Nevertheless, he had not believed in such a thing. Magic, witchcraft, miracles, all that was nothing but humbug and fraud.

In the meantime, however, he had come to understand that he had made a huge mistake in this respect. The encounter with de Belleme was only one of the experiences that had shown him that there were other things on Earth. Even more terrifying than the Baron had been his encounter with the powers of Herne, which had caused him to be lost in Sherwood, almost succumbing to madness.

To this day, he was not sure what had saved him in the end. Was it the protection of the Church? He could not imagine anything like that, especially since this Church was represented by such persons as Abbot Hugo, of all people. So had it been mercy on the part of Herne? He did not want to believe that, for it would have meant quite a humiliation for him to have been spared by this pagan deity, as if he were not worthy as an opponent. Had he saved himself through his own efforts? He would like to believe that, and yet he had considerable doubts that it could have been so.

He had also not forgotten the matter of Albion - Hood's magical sword. Every time he became aware of the scar in his hand, he remembered the pain he had suffered when he had tried to slay Hood with his own blade.

And now he had had to go back to this place, of which he was not sure whether there was not still magic here, even if the Baron had apparently left his residence - and England - quite a few years ago. There had also never been any sign that he had returned. He had to agree with the Sheriff when the latter claimed that there was no way they could have missed this.

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As Gisburne's gaze settled on the gargoyle, which the superstitious peasants had given the name "Eye of Satan," he became aware that he had approached the dilapidated castle of the dark mage from the same side as when he had been with Ralph of Huntingdon. This had escaped him previously above all for the reason that he had made every effort not to remember it during the last three years.

Now, all at once, the memories of this incident came back to him. The entire affair had begun with the interrogation of a witch, that had not gone exactly as planned. Gisburne's bungling - as the Sheriff used to call it - had caused de Rainault's displeasure, which in turn had pleased the other man very much. The knight had not forgotten how smug Ralph had seemed when the Sheriff was paying attention to him, and doing so in a favorable manner. Gisburne had instantly understood what was going on. However, at the time he had not only feared for his position, but had had every reason to assume that Ralph of Huntingdon would also seek his life. So he had had no qualms about taking advantage of the naiveté - or had it been his overweening self-confidence? - of the other man. His solution had turned out to be ... final. Yet it had been of no value, for what he had thought he had gained, he lost again only moments later. All he got in return was the realization that - once again - he had been given his life. And once again, obviously, only for the reason that he was considered unimportant. Until this day, he had not been certain what he considered to be worse.

After their return to Nottingham, he had to endure yet again being gifted his life, for it had amused the Sheriff more to present him than to get rid of him. The knight had to admit that he could not credit himself with his survival, as painful as that realization was. But in the last years he had to realize that his life - just like his death - was in the hands of other people and he had no influence on that.

At that time, however, he had sworn to himself that he would never again return to this place here. But even in this case he had not been able to do anything against being here now. It was also of no use when he tried again and again to convince himself that he was in control of himself.

Again, a cold shiver ran down his spine as he took another look at the spot where the cursed gems of the - then still dead - Baron had been hidden.

Only to freeze instantly, for in the window opening above the stony demon he could make out the outline of a human being - certainly a man. Could this be the Baron who was watching Gisburne approach? Surely a sorcerer could be trusted to recognize a man even at this distance. Had he returned after all? Or could it be someone else? But who would dare to enter this ruin? It had to be someone who was either completely ignorant, rather mentally impaired, or extremely desperate.

Gisburne swallowed and tore his gaze away from the guardian of stone. When, after a long moment, he once again glanced at the window, he noticed that it was undoubtedly empty. Had he only imagined what he had just seen? Had his memory played a trick on him?

Unable to make up his mind about what to believe - and since this indecision prevented him from carrying on - he put these considerations to the side. He could not return to Nottingham without having complied with the Sheriff's order, for - to his chagrin - he was in no position to give the lie to de Rainault. Gisburne was left with only one option.

He started moving towards the castle all over again.

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The knight had made it so that he would reach the castle early in the morning. He had done this knowing that it would take him a long time to search it. Not because it was so large - the areas where someone could find shelter were few and far between - more so that he knew from the outset that he would have to struggle anew with each passage, each staircase, each room to proceed.

He was to be proved right.

For this reason it was not surprising that it was already late afternoon when he finally arrived at the chamber from which Ralph had lowered himself down at that time - with fatal consequences as far as he himself was concerned. True, he had found the gems exactly where he had predicted, but then he had committed the folly of passing them on to him, Guy. What he found afterwards he had obviously not foreseen, and he had not sought it out. The knight was convinced of that. But he was also convinced that the other man had only been waiting for the right moment to help the Sheriff's steward to find exactly the same thing. It was therefore understandable that Gisburne had not been willing to wait.

The knight found it even more difficult to enter this room than the others, even though each time he had feared that he might encounter the Baron anew. Each time he had felt immense relief when this was not the case. Nor had he encountered anyone else, not even any signs that would have indicated that someone had been here recently. It was only after he had made sure that there was no one in this part of the castle that he had the courage to enter the last room. He would have liked to do without, but he had to make sure that he had only imagined seeing a figure standing at the window.

As in the other rooms, he made no effort to hide his relief when he stepped through the doorway - which probably had not had a door for a long time - and found the chamber empty. He had intended to turn around right then, leave the castle and return to Nottingham, only to discover that his feet had carried him across the room and he was now standing at the window with his hands resting on the wide sill, as if he seriously intended to look down. This was completely ridiculous. What did he believe he could discover down there after such a long time? There could be nothing left of the other man, so it was unnecessary to take a look at him.

Still, it took Gisburne some effort to turn away from the opening and make his way back to the door. He was so preoccupied with his own emotions, however, that he had already taken several steps before he realized he was no longer alone. Someone was now standing in the gap in the wall that had once been the door to the hallway. A shape that seemed to be encased in a darkness that made it impossible for the knight to discern who he was dealing with. All he could make out was the dark clothing worn by the stranger.

All he could think of was the Baron's dark clothes.

Then, however, the other one took a step forward and Gisburne became aware all at once that he would have preferred to meet the Baron, even if the mere thought of the sorcerer sent cold shivers down his spine. But the man who blocked his way out of the chamber immobilized him in the same way that a snowstorm would have immobilized him if he had been exposed to it in the depths of winter. The man who had confronted him seemed to deprive him of all human warmth, for he was none other than ...

... Ralph of Huntingdon.

This was completely impossible. With his own eyes, Gisburne had seen the shattered body beneath this very window - deprived of live. The knight himself had cut the rope with which the damned rival had secured himself. Yet here he stood in front of him, apparently unhurt. Did no one ever stay dead who had perished here in this cursed castle?

"Guy," the impossible apparition addressed him. "What a pleasure to welcome you here." A smile appeared on the other man's face, which seemed to freeze Gisburne's blood, for there was nothing human about it.

"Ralph." The knight could not manage more than a hoarse whisper. Moreover, his lips and his tongue were the only parts of his body over which he had any control.

"Ah ... you have not forgotten me. I'm glad about that, too, for I hadn't counted on it." The apparition was even capable of uttering these words in a tone of voice that without any problem showed that the other meant something quite different from what his words said. He had made no effort to keep the mockery out of his voice. He also seemed to be moving toward Gisburne, for suddenly he was much closer to him than earlier.

Sir Guy had already grown cold the very moment he caught sight of the other one, but now he had to realize that an even greater cold was possible, even if he could not have imagined this. In fact, it had gotten so cold that it hurt him as if he were being cut with sharp blades. It was only with an enormous effort that he was able to shake off this torpor and step back until he sensed the wall of the chamber at his back. The pain had diminished somewhat.

But the relief he felt about this was short-lived, for Ralph of Huntingdon approached him again. This time Gisburne had kept his gaze fixed on him and so he could not fail to notice that the other one was not walking but gliding. His way of movement was nothing a living person could manage, and the knight suddenly realized he was not dealing with a resurrected person here - as was the case with de Belleme - but with a ghost. When again he shuddered, this had absolutely nothing to do with the painful cold.

"What do you want?" He was surprised himself that these words had made it past his lips.

The knight had never given much thought to whether ghosts were capable of laughing - after all, there were enough other issues to worry about - but now the one in front of him proved that at least he was indeed able to do so. In this respect, it was almost insignificant how contemptuous this laughter came across.

"What could I possibly want from the man who made me a ghost, Guy?" he then asked a question in return. The knight opened his mouth to counter it with something, but this time no sound passed his lips. The expression on the face of the man he had killed - he could not even manage to speak of murder to himself - was just too horrible.

"Don't you have anything to say about this, Guy?" the ghost wanted to know, as once again he slid a little bit closer. The icy cold that emanated from the apparition seized the knight anew and caused him to move again slightly back. But since he was already standing with his back against the wall, he could only move in the direction of the window opening.

Gisburne cast a desperate glance at the exit of the chamber, but the way towards it was blocked by the otherworldly apparition. Nevertheless, he dared to try to get past the other one, but this only resulted in his being caught once again in the infernal cold. The closer the ghost approached him, the greater the pain he inflicted. It was not even necessary that he would touch him.

Once again, the man who had once tried to steal his position with the Sheriff laughed maliciously. Not that this post brought Gisburne much joy, nor was it lucrative. But it was the only thing the knight had left, and if de Rainault ever dropped him, he would not know where to go. There was no one in England he could turn to, nor anywhere else, though. What friends and supporters he once had when he was younger had already passed from this world, while he had not found any new ones. He was also not sure if he was even capable of doing so. But despite everything, he was still attached not only to his life in Nottingham, but to life in general, even if he was not always able to understand where he got the strength to do so.

"How much pain can you take, Guy?" the ghost of Ralph of Huntingdon demanded to know. "How long can you resist me?"

Gisburne shook his head, for he did not want to get into a verbal argument with the other. Even when he was still alive, he had surpassed him in this respect, but this was not surprising, for his tongue had always refused the knight, especially when he would have had to convince someone with words.

"Believe me, Guy, you do not want to let me get any closer to you. I can only admire your steadfastness, for others have died of fear much sooner." The ghost moved a little closer again, thus urging the knight further toward the window.

"You must also take my word for it, Guy, that death will come very quickly if you plummet from that height. This is something I can tell you from my own experience." The grin on the other's face was not only contemptuous, it was also haughty.

"You should really decide to throw yourself down. That would be quick and almost painless. Whereas the death that awaits you when I touch you would be so painful that it will seem like an eternity to you. And who knows whether the pain will not still accompany you after your death. I would not want to rule that out."

Again he slid closer, ensuring that Gisburne was now standing right at the window opening. At this point he was unable to retreat any further unless he were to climb onto the wide sill. But if he did that, he would be admitting his defeat. Then he could actually throw himself down.

For a moment, the knight seriously pondered whether this death would actually be as quick as Ralph had just claimed. But then it occurred to him that the other one could well have lied to him. Who said that ghosts were incapable of something like that? He would certainly credit the other one with it. He himself would not have acted differently in his stead. Certainly not.

"Jump!" the ghost urged him once again as he slid closer, but Gisburne did not budge. He had no intention of making it so easy for the other one. There was no way he was going to jump to his death on his own, and being pushed was not an option.

"Won't do it, Sir Guy?" The use of the title was accompanied by a derisive sneer, which abruptly made the knight realize that the other would rather Gisburne did not jump to his death. The ghost wanted to make sure that he died of fear. This fear, caused by the other-worldly cold, and the pain it caused, should bring him his death.

"You wanted to oust me from my position, Ralph," he forced his stiff lips to utter some words after all. "But that would not have been enough to satisfy you. You wanted to get me out of the way altogether. But you had underestimated me. You believed you were superior to me and that I would not have the guts to kill you as long as you did not raise your blade against me. Did you have time to realize your mistake before your body smashed on the ground?"

The knight had not given any further thought to what he was saying. He uttered the words without realizing what they could trigger in the other one. He had begun to speak in the first place just to distract the other for a moment and perhaps to still get his chance to slip past him. But this time it was he who was mistaken, for what he had said caused the ghost to approach him in a single motion.

Even if Gisburne would have changed his mind at that very moment and would have wanted to jump now, he would not be able to do it anymore. The cold that now enveloped him prevented him from moving. It made him stand stock-still, as if he had actually been frozen. The knight was not even able to let out a scream, although the pain had indeed become unbearable. It was more than he had ever had to endure.

And yet his body refused to give in to the pain, his heart refused to stop, he could not escape this torture. In his mind he cried out, also due to the fact that at the same time he once again had before his eyes all the circumstances where throughout his life he had already had to suffer in this way. He once again saw all the situations he had survived despite the efforts of his foes - first and foremost, of course, Sir Edmund, but there were also the Sheriff and Hood, even Lady Marion as well as some nameless French mercenaries - to be able to remember them at this point.

Survived! He had always survived. Pain was a familiar experience for him, was something that was no reason for him to die. He survived to suffer again later on, but he ... sur... vived!

It was not a conscious decision on the part of the knight to make his body move forward. Nor would he ever be able to say how he had made his stiffened muscles do that. He only knew he had survived the encounter with de Belleme, he had survived the humiliations and punishments of the Sheriff, he had survived the attempts of his stepfather who had tried to kill him, he had survived the attacks of Hood. He had already defeated Ralph once, he had beaten him to it, and for that reason he would now not let his ghost push him to his death. He certainly did not want to grant the other one this satisfaction.

Gisburne leapt toward the door through the disembodied apparition. The pain became so intense, so unbearable, that he could no longer see anything. When he crashed into a wall, he did not know whether he had actually managed to leave the chamber.

Then, however, he heard the impotent shrieking of the ghost behind him, and this brought him abruptly back into the world. He could now not only perceive sounds, but he was also able to once again see something, and what he saw gave him great pleasure, even though his body felt as if it had been beaten up for a week without any interruption.

Ralph of Huntingdon's ghost was in the doorway, screeching in a manner that was in no way human - but after all, he was no longer human - yet he did not move a bit out into the hallway, but - even better - he no longer gave off a coldness either.

"Come back, Coward!" These words showed all the impotent rage of the apparition, which obviously - as Gisburne at that moment realized - could not leave the chamber.

The knight struggled to get up, only to then fail to restrain himself and bow to the ghost - with a mocking grin on his lips.

"I will refrain from availing myself of your hospitality again, Ralph," he then informed him. "You will have to wait for someone else who is willing to share your lonely and interminable stay here. I am not the man for that." He turned and staggered down the hallway. No matter how much his body ached - and even if he had to crawl on all fours - he would leave this place as soon as possible. He even would prefer a longer stay in Sherwood.

The ghost did not stop screeching, but Gisburne was not bothered by that.

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Robert de Rainault knew his steward well enough to say without any problems that the other man had not lied to him when he reported not having found a living soul in the ruins of Belleme Castle, but also no signs that anyone had been there in recent years.

Nevertheless, the Sheriff could not shake the feeling that the knight was hiding something from him. But no matter how hard he tried, Gisburne did not give anything else away and finally de Rainault came to the conclusion that he must have been mistaken and at last he forgot the entire matter.

Sir Guy would like to be able to do the same, but unfortunately he was not able to. Still, he was not entirely unhappy. Not only had he managed to keep his encounter with the ghost from the Sheriff, he had also found that in his dreams - whenever Ralph visited him there - he now always had the upper hand over the man he had already defeated twice.

This haunting would no longer scare him.