Chapter Text
Allan bent to pick up Gisborne’s cloak. The velvet garment was lying on the road, near one of the wagons. Probably Guy lost it during the fight or when he fell from the horse.
The young man glanced at him: Gisborne was sitting on a rock, alone, and he looked a little upset.
Probably he was in pain too, Allan thought, a little worried. The knight had blood on his face, a few bruises, and a long cut on his cheek.
Allan hoped that those were the only damages he got during the fight, and he wished that Matilda was there to check his conditions.
His expression lit when he saw Djaq walking towards him, a worried look on her face.
“Allan! Are you hurt?” She asked.
Allan frowned.
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re covered in blood!”
“Not mine.” He pointed at the bodies of the bandits, lying at the side of the road. “I killed a few of them. And then I suppose it’s blood from Giz, too. He suffered a few injuries during the fight.”
“Who?”
“Giz… Gisborne. He’s over there, I left him sitting on that rock while I went to check on the other men.”
“You call him ‘Giz’? And you’re still alive to tell it?”
Allan grinned.
“When you get to know him, he’s not that bad. Maybe you should fix his wounds, I think he’s in pain.”
Djaq looked at him, surprised.
“Are you actually worried for Gisborne?! He’s our enemy!”
Allan shrugged.
“He has another side. When the sheriff is not around, he’s another person. A decent person.”
Djaq was surprised to see that Allan seemed to really care for Gisborne. Just a few months before, she had sat with him in an alley trying to soothe the sorrow for the death of his brother. Maybe Gisborne wasn’t the person who hanged Tom, but at that time he was an ally of the Sheriff, someone that Allan should hate.
The girl smiled to herself: Allan could seem careless and selfish sometimes, but she knew that his heart was in the right place. Now that he was working at Knighton, she missed his funny presence at the camp and she was happy that he came out unscathed from the fight with the bandits.
“I will,” she conceded, “if you really want this, I’ll treat that scoundrel too.”
Allan rewarded her with a warm smile, then one of the men from Knighton called him, and he sighed.
“I have to see what they want. I wish we had more time to talk, you have to tell me what’s going on at the camp while I’m away.”
“And you’ll tell me what you do all day in the house of a noble,” Djaq said, with a laugh.
Allan smiled and handed her Guy’s cloak.
“Could you give this to Giz?” He said, with another glance at the knight, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The man went to reach the villager who had called him, and Djaq looked at the cloak she was holding.
Well, she thought, if she had to treat Gisborne’s injuries, she’d better do it immediately. She still thought that he was a dangerous foe, but Allan was right, he was also a human being, and, as a healer, it was her duty to ease pain, even if the patient was an enemy.
Guy was sitting on a rock, allowing himself to catch his breath. The other men were tending to their injuries or fixing damaged wagons before continuing their trip to Nettlestone.
Robin Hood’s men were helping them, and Guy didn’t know what to think of it. The outlaw had always been his enemy, but he had saved his life, and Guy didn’t know if he felt more humiliated or grateful for that.
He closed his eyes for a moment. He was tired and in pain, but he couldn’t complain: his leg was sore, but it wasn’t worse than usual, even if he rode a horse. His cheek was throbbing where the blade of the bandit had cut it, but he knew that it wasn’t a deep or serious wound.
When he opened his eyes again, a dark skinned woman was standing in front of him.
It was the saracen woman of Robin Hood’s gang. Allan sometimes talked about his friends, and her name, something like Jack, was often on his lips. According to him, the saracen woman was intelligent, compassionate, skillful with a sword, and a good healer too.
Guy glanced at her, wondering what she wanted from him.
Djaq was holding his blue cloak, and she handed it to Guy.
“Allan said that this is yours. You must be freezing.” Her voice had a foreign accent, but her English was correct.
Gisborne took the cloak and hurried to wear it. She was right, now that the heat of the fight had ended, he was shivering.
He thanked her with a nod, but he was wary: what did she want from him, why was she staring at him like that?
“That’s quite a cut,” the girl said, looking at his face, and Guy touched his cheek, than he looked at the blood on his fingers.
“It’s nothing, just a scratch.”
“Enough to make Allan worried for you, though. Let me see.”
She made a step forward, lifting a hand to touch his face, and Guy flinched. Djaq gave an ironic look at him.
“What? Are you afraid that I could rub salt in it?”
“Will you? I don’t know what I can expect from one of Robin Hood’s gang.”
Djaq rolled her eyes.
“If we wanted to hurt you, we could just have stayed at the camp instead of coming here to fight those bandits. We may be enemies, but I’m a healer, I don’t use my skills to damage people. If I wanted to hit you, I’d punch you or I’d use a weapon.”
“This should be reassuring?” Guy asked, with a little smirk.
“For now, yes. Be still, let me see.”
This time, Guy let her check his wound, and the girl put a salve on it, taking the ointment from a little wooden box she had in her bag.
“There’s no need for stitches, but keep it clean. It bled a lot, but it’s not deep.”
“Told you.”
Djaq looked at him for a few seconds.
“What?” He asked, ill at ease. “Why are you staring at me?”
“You are not an easy one to kill, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard that you had been trampled by your guards’ horses and that you almost died.”
“It’s true. Matilda saved my life.”
“I heard about that woman, people say she’s a good healer. Someday I’d like to meet her.” Djaq paused for a moment, then she looked at Guy. “In my land, I’ve seen men trampled by horses. Most of them died, others were damaged for life.”
Guy looked at his leg.
“I think I am damaged for life,” he said, softly, more to himself than to Djaq.
The girl shook her head.
“I’ve seen you fighting. You could ride, you were able to defend your people, you can walk on your own if you use that,” she pointed to the crutch, “you can consider yourself lucky. If a limp and some pain is all you will get from that accident, you can be grateful both to your God and to Matilda. Some of the men I was talking about were bedridden for the rest of their lives. Some of them couldn’t even move their legs or their arms, another one could walk, but he had been hit in the head and he had become like an infant: he couldn’t speak or reason properly, and his wife had to clean him many times a day because he wasn’t able to control his physical needs.”
Guy nodded.
“I see. I shouldn’t complain.”
Djaq gave a surprised look at him, she didn’t expect him to agree or to really consider her words so meekly. Maybe Allan was right, she thought, and there was more of Gisborne than they all thought, a different side of him.
“No, you shouldn’t. But you should go now, it looks like that your convoy is ready to depart again, I think they are waiting for you.”
And so they were, in good order, wagons and guards and peasants all in their established positions, the expedition members were ready to leave, waiting for their leader. Guy took his place on the wagon head of the group.
Robin approached the knight.
“I think all here we care about the outcome of this expedition, am I right?” He said, turning to Guy.
Guy raised his eyebrow.
“Of course, Locksley. Now, on behalf of everyone here, thank you, Knighton will be very grateful to you, but now we have to leave, we've lost too much time here, every moment is precious for us. We must go to Nettlestone and get back to Knighton as quickly as we can.”
Guy would never admit to Robin to be overly concerned now for leaving Marian and Sir Edward alone. What happened to them here could happen to Knighton at any moment.
Outlaws.
He realized that the County hid many more dangers now than when he had been the Sheriff's Master at Arms . Or maybe at that time he had been too busy following the Sheriff's madness and orders to realize it. From a certain moment on, all his attention had focused on catching Robin and everything else had disappeared from his attention. One of his many faults, Guy thought.
If Knighton was attacked by outlaws Marian could defend it herself, now Guy knew it. She was the Nightwatchman. And she was good at fighting.
But the recent illness had weakened her, and he wanted to go back to protect her, right now. But Knighton needed money too.
“Do you want to advise us on the best route to get to Nettlestone from here, Locksley ? For once I might be tempted to follow your advice.” Guy smirked.
“Yes, I might, but I have a better plan in mind, we will accompany you there.”
“What?” Guy said, “Aren't you not worried about your reputation if you are seen at Nettlestone with the previous bad Master at Arms, Locksley?” Although he was actually very tempted to accept the proposal. Robin's arrows were a good help, he knew.
“My reputation will survive,” Robin replied. “Yours might even improve with our presence near you. In any case, I do it for Knighton's people here, for the people in Knighton waiting for you, and for Marian's family, obviously.”
The reference to Marian made Guy's blood boil.
Containing his jealousy had never been his specialty. But his jealousy for Marian had no precedent for strength and intensity. The truth was that he had never loved so intensely. Except for his mother.
He refrained from answering that Marian was his business alone, sending Robin to hell, just because she wasn't his, sadly.
And mostly because Allan at his side looked at him with an afflicted look that suggested him to let go of any controversy and accept the proposal, for God's sake.
“Good, Hood, let's go now,” Guy said.
Robin couldn’t help adding, subtly, for only Guy to hear him: “Better to stay by your side, Gisborne, just case you were to sell your goods at a not too fair price to Nettlestone's peasants.”
“Don't tell me, Hood, among your many talents there is also being an expert in cheese prices?” Guy said, annoyed.
“I have many more talents than you can imagine, Gisborne. You could be astonished," Hood smiled.”
With the Half-French engaged in combat, and the road virtually free from any obstacles, the Redhead was ahead of time when he arrived at Knighton.
An easy mission: he’d go there, claim the due fees, knowing in advance that the sum was to high for them to be able to pay for it, then he’d play his role, and finally he’d lead the old Lord and the young Lady in Nottingham under arrest, to appease Vaisey's jealousy and rage.
Not before seizing everything possible from the manor, of course.
There was always something good in a seizure, even better in a sack, with the approval of the state.
There were always jewels that could be hidden in his pockets, money that could disappear in his saddlebags. Nothing that was necessary to tell the old sheriff, who was only interested in revenge on the girl.
A trap.
To stir so much clamor in the county, the girl had to be beautiful. It was a shame that age had already put her in the spinsters' group. Only the convent would remain, as a destiny, shortly, for her.
Or the Half-French failure and crippled man as a husband.
So much wasted beauty, in both cases.
It was therefore with curiosity and personal greed that Alexander galloped toward Knighton.
He hadn’t met Robin Hood along the road to the manor. This promised even better.
The five men of Vaisey's patrol accompanied him.
They arrived in the courtyard, raising a big cloud of dust. The peasants, on their arrival, sought desperate shelter in their homes, and in the stables, wherever they could hide.
Within a few minutes, Knighton looked like a country decimated by some calamity. Or rather, it looked like the desert.
The Redhead smiled.
They would not escape.
He got off the horse, and his soldiers did the same, to go immediately to Lord Knighton's residence.
He knocked hard at the door.
From within he heard screams, and he imagined waitresses and servants , their fear, the same escape and hide scenes. All useless.
Vaisey would have found it fun, but Alexander was a practical man, he took care only about his business and interest. He found these strategies childish.
Susan ran to warn James, who, frightened by that sudden and unexpected arrival, and by Sir Guy's absence, came quickly to the door, trying to intercept the soldiers.
“So soon? Today is not the predetermined day,” he thought.
Lord Knighton, still sick, didn’t know about the tax day and the request for increased tax. They all had been hiding it in order to keep him from worrying. It could have been fatal for his fragile health and life.
James came, breathless, behind the soldiers, with Alexander knocking at the door again and screaming: “Open, in the name of the King!”
“My Lord,” he said, almost suffocating, “please, Lord Knighton is very sick and frail. I am the manager of the manor, I am here to serve you.”
Alexander turned to see the frail old man behind him.
“Lord Knighton is a servant of the King like everyone else, and he will answer for his faults, if this is the case. Now let us in, or we'll break the door, right now.”
Shaking, James knocked on the window to show himself, so the other servants would open.
James entered the house, followed by the Redhead and the soldiers.
At the top of the staircase, Marian followed the scene, uncertain whether to go down or run to her room to take her sword.
But Alexander's eyes flashed on her, pinning her there.
“People of Knighton Manor, we are here to collect the due taxes, now,” Alexander said, with strong and severe voice, “You had been warned, in due time, so you shouldn’t have troubles, I imagine, with so prosperous fields around you.”
“My lord, we are certainly collecting the required money, but we weren’t expecting you here for a few days. The scheduled date for the request you had indicated is...”
Alexander interrupted him, taking him by the collar. He felt the old bones of the man trembling under his grip.
Pathetic, Alexander thought.
“We don’t have time to waste,” he said, then he let him go. “Your loyalty to the King and his Sacred cause will be questioned if you won’t pay immediately your debt.”
“The cause of the King of England is sacred to us more than anything else,” James said. “The honor of this family is the honor of the King. I assure you. We had a difficult year, good harvest but little demand, we only need a few more days...”
In response, Alexander slapped the old man, who fell to the ground.
Marian ran down the stairs, still breathless because of the recent illness.
“Leave him, leave him now! I am Lord Edward's daughter, it is with me that you must speak, Sir.”
Alexander smiled mockingly.
This was the girl at the center of the contest. Beautiful, of course, a typical English beauty, but nothing extraordinary, nothing memorable.
Nothing to die for.
Probably the Half-French was dying, literally, for her, under the attack of outlaws, right now. She was pretty, but nothing to lose positions and power, and nothing to fight for.
Certainly she had the proud look of the woman used to be served and revered. The arrogance of a young noble, completely useless if not to make children and to wear beautiful clothes.
Alexander was beginning to find the situation amusing.
He could humiliate her before she took her away. He could afford to lose a little time, in the end.
“Lord Knighton's daughter? One of her waiters, one would say, judging by your clothes,” the Redhead snorted.
Piqued, but determined not to show her fear, Marian replied: “Yes, Sir, I'm recovering from a bad illness. I would expect respect from an important man like you. We will pay everything that is due.”
“Forgive me, Miss. I wasn’t gallant. But gallantry has nothing to do with taxes and breaking the law. The previous master at arms had used too much… humanity, with you. Humanity does not support a royal army. Humanity is... weakness, you know. Music has changed. It's time for you to face the truth.”
The commander didn’t seem to be the type to be deceived, and the reference to Guy and his past behavior toward her had shaken her inside.
Guy had looked fierce at the time, cruel, not gentle, then he began to court her, and she had exchanged his embarrassment for hardness, for lack of feeling, when it was the exact opposite.
Until the story of the “missing” necklace, Guy had been just unwanted and intrusive, in her life, sneaky, but basically he didn’t want to hurt her.
He had felt betrayed that day. And he had been, in fact, deceived. Even though he didn’t know it. She had lied to him all the way.
In his tortuous way he... loved her, now Marian knew.
She realized that Vaisey was not just trying to ruin Knighton economically. There was something more perverse in his mind.
And the worst thing was that even the man she faced now, a perfect stranger, seemed willing to hurt her, instead.
She thought of Guy, and hoped, prayed, that he would come back soon, thinking about how to take time, what else to offer to the man. Maybe he could be corrupted by something.
“My lord, please,” Marian tried her best humble smile, “we haven’t started our conversation in the best way. I'm sure we could find an agreement. Please sit down, Sir, meanwhile I'll bring you some good wine.”
“I don’t care about your ‘good’ wine. Give it to the pigs. You don’t have the money? Well. We will proceed to the seizure of your harvest, then. Men!”
“No, no, no, Sir , we no longer have the most of the harvest, only the flour necessary for the survival of the people of Knighton, for this winter. Our... our emissary has brought it to the neighboring countries to sell it, and we are just waiting for his return. Then we will be able to pay for everything. Please, sir, don't...”
“Your ‘emissary’, Lady? I do not think you'll see him here anymore. Men, go ahead!”
Alexander stepped out of the door, chased by Marian, who didn’t understand what was happening.
Was he talking about Guy? What did he know about Guy? Had he fled with the cargo? It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t have stolen everything from her, as much as he was reduced to poverty.
Not him.
Not Guy, not Guy.
A voice in her head shouted at her to demand the whole truth from the commander. She clung to his arm.
"What do you know about him?” She screamed, no more countenance in her voice, in her manner.
Alexander threw her on the floor, and Marian couldn’t avoid the fall. The commander looked at her with contempt and fierce piety. He said in a very loud voice: “People of Knighton, these are King's orders! Come out of your houses immediately, if you don’t want us to set fire to everything. Now!”
The soldiers behind him were waiting for orders.
Marian turned back.
Pale as a dead man, her father, on the door, tried to pull his sword out of the sheath.
Marian shook her head with despair, to dissuade him from intervening.
The people came out, horrified, a lost look in their eyes. The children sought shelter behind the mothers' skirts, women's eyes were looking in the eyes of their husbands, and fathers, and brothers, who seemed to be already defeated.
“Soldiers, take everything valuable from the houses, from the stables, and from this woman's house, do not spare anything, or anyone. It's all confiscated in the name of the King. Now!”
Marian stood up.
“Stop, stop, Sir Guy will be here soon, we trust in him, we'll pay for everything!” The girl screamed.
Alexander smiled mockingly, anticipating the girl's reaction.
“Lady Knighton, you will never see Gisborne and your men again. They're all dead, by now!”
The inhabitants of Nettlestone were unloading the wagons, storing the cheese and distributing the milk to the families who needed it. Some of them were wondering if they really had to pay for it: Robin Hood was there, supervising the trade, and he usually gave them for free what they needed.
But Guy of Gisborne was there too, and they couldn’t understand why. The black knight usually came to take from them, to collect money for the taxes, or to punish someone, but not that day.
Everyone in the village had heard every sort of story about him: some said that he was dead, others that he had been injured so much that he was as good as dead, many knew that he had been fired by the Sheriff, and according to others he had become a beggar, an insane lunatic forced to rely on charity to survive.
The knight who was standing near the wagons proved all those voices wrong: it was clear that he had suffered a serious accident, he walked using a crutch and he looked weaker and thinner than he once had been, but he was standing with a proud stance, and he was watching carefully the trade, bargaining over the price of the cheese.
It was clear that he wasn’t going to give his supplies for free and that he expected to be paid for them. The villagers kept glancing at Robin Hood, hoping that he would intervene and force Gisborne to give them the cheese, but the outlaw didn’t do anything, he just stood there and supervised the trade.
That was confusing for the people of Nettlestone: Gisborne was an enemy, wasn’t he? Why Robin was allowing him to stay in the village? And why Gisborne came there carrying just the supplies they needed? Maybe he was an enemy, but he was selling perfectly good cheese for a price they were willing to pay, and he wasn’t hurting or menacing anyone, for once. Also, people from Knighton were with him, normal people, men they knew and who were friends or relatives, people they trusted.
It was a mystery that they couldn’t solve, but as long as nobody was getting hurt or killed, they could just accept it and try to get the best part of the bargain.
Allan looked at the wagons that were quickly being unloaded and he smiled. Apart from the attack from the bandits, their mission had been a success and Knighton was going to be safe.
He glanced at Guy, standing near the wagons. The knight looked exhausted, but very pleased, and proud of himself, completely different from the defeated and distraught Guy of Gisborne he had seen just a few days ago, when Marian was ill.
Now he was probably tired and in pain, his body not yet fully healed, but he was showing a inner strength, something that probably Guy himself didn’t know he had, until now.
“He’s not a common person, is he?”
Allan turned in hearing Djaq’s voice, and saw that the girl was at his side.
“Giz? No, he’s not. You can say many things about him, but when you get to know him a little better he can be full of surprises. This,” Allan gestured towards the wagons “has been his idea. With a little help on my side of course, but he actually found a way to save Knighton.”
Djaq laughed.
“You really like him. There’s admiration in your words!”
Allan shrugged.
“Well… Yes. What’s wrong with that?”
“He’s Gisborne!”
“He’s different than I thought. He’s changed. Hey, the man saved my life, more than once now.”
“I understand… But… Do you consider him a friend?”
Allan thought for a moment before answering.
“I guess so. Is that a crime?”
Djaq shook her head.
“Not for me. After all, I should be an enemy too. I’m a saracen, the king of England fights my people. We should hate each other, but the gang is a second family for me now. But I’m afraid that Robin wouldn’t understand if you fraternize with Gisborne. The friend of his enemy is an enemy.”
Allan remembered Robin’s words and he felt annoyed again. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, but Robin treated him like a stupid child, unable to have an opinion of his own or to estimate the risks of being acquainted with Gisborne.
“I know what I am doing, I’m not an idiot.” he said, curtly, and Djaq nodded.
She smiled at him and her eyes were warm, caring.
“I’m sure of that. Just be careful.”
Allan relented, answering to her smile.
“I will. Djaq?”
“Yes?”
“Come to Knighton sometimes, just to have a little chat. I can’t come to the forest, not after Giz lied to the Sheriff’s guards to save my life. Go figure, he told them that I wasn’t an outlaw and that I worked for him. If they found out the truth, we’d be all done for. But if you come, nobody will notice you.”
“Maybe I will. When there is that healer too, Matilda. I want to talk with her, learn new things. Do you think that Gisborne will let me examine his wounds? I’m really curious to see what Matilda had done with his leg, and to ask her how he was just after the accident.”
“I don’t know. You can ask, but I can’t say what he will answer. I think he’s kinda shy.”
“Shy? Gisborne?! The one who went around cutting tongues and ill-treating peasants?” Djaq laughed, and Allan smiled too.
“Allan!” Guy called him in a demanding tone, and Allan saw that Guy was already sitting on his wagon, now empty except than for the money, and that he was waiting for him.
“I guess it’s time to go, he’s eager to return to Knighton as soon as possible.”
“Shy, uh? That yell didn’t sound shy at all.”
Allan shrugged.
“He just wants to go home. See you soon, come to see me at Knighton!”