The Dragon of Throxenby, Part 3
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The next time Guy woke, he was able to sit up long enough to eat a bowl of warm broth, and the time after that, he was able to manage most of a slice of bread with more broth. He awoke the next morning with something approaching an appetite. Except for his left arm, his aches and pains had disappeared, and his temperature felt normal, at least to him.
Eva was already awake, and Guy could see that both she and Quenilda had been sleeping on a large mattress on the floor next to his bed while he'd been sick. Rising from it fully dressed, Eva quietly refused to let him get up until he'd donned enough clothing to keep him from catching a chill, and brought him socks, a nightshirt, and his own trousers. When he was finally dressed to her satisfaction, she offered to support him to the privy, but Guy waved her away. "I can walk on my own."
"Yes, my lord," Eva replied. When Guy had finished, however, he found her hovering outside the door, and when he gave her a glare, she said, "I just wanted to make sure you didn't fall in, my lord. I would have had to wake my lady to help get you out, my lord, and she's so tired! She's nursed you herself these past few days."
Not certain how to respond, either to the ridiculous idea of falling into the privy or the thought of having to be rescued by two young women, Guy merely grunted in acknowledgment. Back in the room, he sank down on the bed, grateful that he hadn't had to walk any farther. His legs felt very wobbly, but at least he wasn't tired enough to fall asleep again immediately. His stomach growled, and Eva said quietly, "I'll bring you some breakfast, my lord."
"No more broth," Guy told her. "I want meat. Pork, if you've got any."
"Yes, my lord," Eva said. Glancing over at the sleeping Quenilda one last time, as though to make sure Guy hadn't woke her, Eva curtsied and went out. Guy wrestled himself into a more comfortable position, then leaned back against the headboard. He was just arranging the covers over his legs, and wondering if he could ask Eva to rub his feet later, when he heard the sound of a lute directly under one of the arrow slit windows. A moment later, two voices combined in song; a woman's and a man's.
"It was a day of clouds and thick fog, when Sir Guy went out a-hunting a hog."
Hearing his name, Guy sat up a little and listened harder. At first, he thought they might be singing about another Sir Guy, but eventually, it became clear that they were indeed celebrating his triumph over the dragon. It was all completely exaggerated, of course, with the dragon and himself nearly, but not quite, killing each other several times, so that the fight lasted almost a full day instead of less than an hour. Quenilda, the plain daughter of an Earl, had been turned into a princess who was not only beautiful, but also had the second sight, and the dragon had been given the power of speech! His words – taunts, really – were amazingly like the Sheriff's, and Guy didn't know whether to be amused or horrified.
The minstrel was just describing a ferocious battle both on the surface of the ocean and below its waters as well, which Guy would never have let himself get into, when the door to his chamber opened and Eva came in, bearing a tray of food. Her eyes went immediately to the mattress on the floor and she exclaimed, "Oh, my lady! I was hoping you'd sleep much longer!"
She all but dumped the tray onto Guy's lap and strode towards the window, looking out as well as she could. "I'll go down and tell Lady Isolda and Ivo that you want them to go do their singing somewhere else, my lady."
"No, let them stay, Eva. It's actually quite nice, being woken with a song," Quenilda said, sitting up. "Don't you agree, Sir Guy?"
Guy had just stuffed a slice of cold pork into his mouth, and was only able to give a noncomittal grunt. In addition to the meat, there was also bread, cheese, and a goblet of red wine; a breakfast he was looking forward to.
"You must be feeling better if your appetite has come back, Sir Guy," Quenilda went on, getting to her feet. "I hope you slept well?"
After swallowing, Guy answered, "I did, yes, Lady Quenilda."
Eva coughed in a slightly reproachful way, and Guy felt obliged to add, "How did you sleep, my lady?"
"I slept quite well." Quenilda came over to the side of the bed and laid her hand on Guy's forehead, then moved it around to the back of his neck. Her skin was warm and dry. "Your fever hasn't returned, that's good. Eva, bring me some breakfast, too, and after I've eaten, we'll look at his arm."
"Yes, my lady," Eva said, and went out again. Quenilda sat down on the stool by the fireplace and pulled on her shoes, then went out to the privy. When she was gone, Guy could clearly hear the words of the song from outside, and continued to listen. Sadly, he had missed all the action; the Guy in the song was now marching to the church, about to choose one of the princesses to be his bride. After a stanza in which they were both described as beautiful, noble, and graceful, however, the music ended abruptly.
Quenilda came back, stopping just inside the door to listen, and then sighed a little in the silence. "Oh, they've finished already. Were you hoping to hear more, too, Sir Guy?"
Guy shrugged, and Quenilda smiled, then went over to the small table that held a selection of pots, jars, and jugs. "Are you in any pain, Sir Guy?"
"No," he snapped, his mouth puckering uncomfortably at the thought of what might be in those containers. "I feel fine, and I don't need any more herbs."
"Hungry and grouchy," Quenilda said. "You are definitely getting better, Sir Guy. Just a few more days of rest and you should be back to your old self again."
"Good," Guy grunted.
"I often think that's the worst part for a man," Quenilda went on, "no longer sick, but not well enough to get up and be active again. Do you play chess, Sir Guy?"
"I've played a few games, my lady," Guy admitted, but didn't mention that he was always obliged to lose, and even then, the Sheriff often didn't bother finishing a game. He usually ended a match by picking up the pieces and pelting them at Guy whenever he felt like it. "Why do you ask?"
"You'll need something to pass the time. The Earl has a chess set, I'll ask if we can borrow it. He might even want to play against you himself – he's quite good."
Guy was saved from having to answer by the door opening and Eva coming in with Quenilda's breakfast. She made room for it on the tiny table, then brought the stool over for her mistress to sit upon while she herself went back to the mattress to sit and nibble a chunk of bread.
"Do you like music, Sir Guy?" Quenilda asked. "Now that you are feeling better, I could ask Ivo to come and play for you on his lute. And my sister Isolda sings quite well, as you just heard."
"That was your sister?" Guy asked bluntly, and only belatedly remembered to add, "my lady."
"The Earl says she has the voice of an angel," Quenilda went on. "Of course, that song they were singing just now was quite silly. Whoever heard of a dragon that could talk? I'd ask them to sing something else. I don't suppose you want to listen to anything about Robin Hood, either, but perhaps Ivo can remember one of the old love songs. In fact, I think he's singing one right now."
She was right. The minstrel outside the window had begun to sing again, this time by himself, and Guy recognized a well-known romantic ballad. Having already grimaced at the mention of Hood, Guy now frowned even more at the thought of having to listen to love songs. It reminded him that the Earl had offered to let him choose which of his daughters he would marry, when the very thought of marriage or getting close to any female ever again made his stomach churn.
"No music," Guy snarled, pushing his tray away and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Both Eva and Quenilda stood up to help him, but he waved them away and staggered over to the window. Although he couldn't see the musicians from his vantage point, he could hear them even more clearly than in bed. Guy put his mouth to the arrow slit and shouted, "Shut up down there or I'll come down and cut your fingers off!"
Behind him, Eva gasped, and Quenilda said, "Stop terrorizing our bard and get back to bed immediately, Sir Guy!"
But the music had already stopped, and a young man with a lute stepped out into Guy's range of vision. He looked quizzically up to the arrow slits, but was then joined by a young woman whom Guy recognized as Lady Isolda. Grabbing the man's hand, Lady Isolda dragged him hastily away out of sight, throwing quick, frightened glances up to where Guy stood glaring down at them. Only when they had completely disappeared did Guy turn around and stroll back, but his triumphant walk was ruined when his legs buckled just short of the bed and he fell to his knees.
"Eva, help," Quenilda commanded. They lifted Guy with an embarrassing lack of effort and settled him on the bed again.
"Sir Guy, if you do too much before you're ready, you will have a relapse, or take a chill," Quenilda told Guy sternly, drawing the covers up to his waist. "And that would mean us having to dose you again with more herbs."
She emphasized the words "more herbs" in a threatening way and gave him a stern look, which Guy ignored in the same way as he ignored the hate-filled stares of the peasants around Nottingham. Instead, he settled himself more comfortably by leaning back against the headboard and bit into his last chunk of bread while Quenilda sat down and resumed eating as well. When she'd finished, she stood up and came over to Guy, then took his arm.
"Let's check this now, Eva," she said. Guy watched as they rolled up the sleeve of his nightshirt and unwound the bandages, and stared in horror when his skin was revealed. While he'd been ill, his arm had turned green, a dark and sickly shade of green that even smelled bad.
"Oh, yes, that's looking much better," Quenilda said, taking up a wet cloth and rubbing his arm vigorously with it. To Guy's amazement and relief, the green disappeared to show healthy flesh underneath, and he realized the colour had come from a paste of crushed herbs.
"Did you think you were turning into a dragon yourself, Sir Guy?" Quenilda asked, and when he looked up, he saw amusement twinkling in her eyes. Not knowing how to answer, he remained silent and looked away.
"I think the danger has passed, but if you feel a sudden urge to try to fly or to breathe fire, you must tell me immediately," Quenilda went on. "And you, Eva, must tell me if Sir Guy wants to eat a maiden for his next meal, instead of pork or mutton."
"Yes, my lady," Eva replied eagerly, her eyes twinkling with amusement even though Sir Guy gave her his best withering look.
"Boil some spring water, Eva. I'll make a new poultice; the wounds haven't healed completely."
Eva went over to where there were two buckets on the floor near the fireplace, and made a sound of dismay. "I'll have to fetch more, my lady, these are empty."
"Then go and fetch some," Quenilda said mildly. Eva took the buckets and went out, and Quenilda sat down again at the table to work on the herbs. Guy took the opportunity to make his own examination of his arm; the skin around the puncture wounds from the dragon's teeth was still red and slightly swollen. He flexed it carefully, then moved his arm around in different positions before finally letting it rest, satisfied that nothing had been permanently damaged.
Eva returned eventually and boiled the water. Quenilda added a small amount to the herbs she'd crushed, then with Eva's help, she smeared the entire mass over Guy's arm and bound it up again with clean cloths.
"I think you'll heal quite well, Sir Guy," she said, tying the final knot with a cheerful flourish. Guy forced his lips into a small smile and murmured, "Thank you, my lady."
"Eva, bring me the comb," Quenilda said, then turned her attention back to Guy. "We'll comb out your hair before it gets any worse, and then I'll see about borrowing the Earl's chess set."
Guy suffered silently as she worked the comb through the tangles, not always gently. At last she was finished, but as soon as she handed the comb back to Eva, the maid said, "You can't appear before the Earl looking like that, my lady. I'll make you presentable first."
Quenilda sighed a little, but sat down on the stool, and Guy watched as Eva undid her mistress' plait of dark hair, raking through it with her fingers first before applying the comb. The simple scene brought back memories of his mother, sitting in front of the fire in her chamber while her maid worked on her hair. He remembered, too, that his mother had insisted on grooming Guy herself, at least before he'd been sent away as a page, and a feeling of sadness and regret stole into his heart. Pushing the feeling violently away again, Guy closed his eyes.
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In the late afternoon, when both Quenilda and Eva were out, the Earl came up to visit Guy. He was preceded by a man servant carrying a large, high-backed chair, and another one carrying a table, but he himself held a chess board and a wooden box.
"Sir Guy," he said formally as the servants set everything up close to the fireplace. "My daughter tells me you play chess."
"I have played a few games, my lord," Guy said cautiously. The servants, brothers by the looks of them, pushed the room's stool into place across from the Earl, and Guy sat down at the man's invitation.
"Give me the pleasure of a battle, then, if you would," the Earl said. He laid the board on the table, removed the pieces from the box, and set them up with quick, expert movements. When he'd finished, only two pawns remained, one of each colour. He rolled them between the palms of his hands, then closed his fists over them without looking, and extended his arms towards Guy. "You may choose, Sir Guy."
Guy tipped the Earl's left hand, and the Earl opened it to show a black pawn. Guy was relieved; he was quite used to playing black against the Sheriff's white and would have found it strange for the positions to suddenly be reversed.
They played in silence for a time, and then the Earl remarked, "My daughter Quenilda says you're recovering well, Sir Guy."
"The maid said Lady Quenilda nursed me herself, my lord," Guy replied awkwardly. "She did well, and I am grateful."
The Earl nodded at the compliment. "She is very good with herbs. And my other daughter, Isolda, is very musical."
Guy made a polite sound as he moved his knight, remembering how Lady Isolda had thrown herself at her father's feet and begged him not to make her marry Guy, and how frightened she'd appeared when she'd dragged the minstrel away from Guy's window.
"From what I heard, you are not such a friend of music," the Earl went on. "It was reported to me that you threatened to cut her fingers off – and the fingers of my minstrel."
Guy glanced up guiltily, worried that his hasty words of the morning would have serious repercussions. He swallowed, and said, "Yes, my lord, I did. I –" he hesitated for a moment, then blurted out the truth. "—do not enjoy love songs."
"No, I suppose you would not," the Earl said, sliding a pawn forwards. "Still, I usually find that simply telling people what you want works best. Threats make them angry and resentful."
This was a foreign concept to Guy, especially as the Sheriff held exactly the opposite opinion. Still, he was a guest in the Earl's household, and the Earl's younger daughter had very probably saved his life with her herbs and her nursing. In the same way in which he agreed with Vasey, no matter what his own thoughts on the matter, because he knew his obligations to the man, Guy said, "Yes, my lord."
"Well," the Earl went on. "Despite this little incident, Quenilda claims that you are not a monster, that you came to us because you were in pain and lost. Lost, in more ways than one, she said, and I must admit, I tend to believe her judgements more easily than those of Isolda."
Guy frowned. He didn't remember telling Quenilda anything about why he'd come to Throxenby, and wondered how she'd managed to come up with ideas that were uncomfortably close to the truth. Watching him, the Earl lifted his eyebrows. "If you were looking for a wife, you could definitely do worse than Quenilda."
"I am not looking for a wife, my lord," Guy stated. "I did not come here seeking rewards."
The Earl nodded. "You said that once before, I remember, but I also know you were already quite ill with the dragonbite at the time. I wondered if you spoke true, or if you were already rambling."
"I spoke true, my lord," Guy said, looking him directly in the eye.
"Well," the Earl said again, then fell silent. Guy watched as he moved one of his chess pieces, and they resumed the game without speaking. Eventually, the Earl drove Guy's king into checkmate, and leaned back in his chair.
"We think the dragon must have come from across the sea," he said unexpectedly. "The father of my wife, who has the second sight, told us that it could be kept from ravishing the town if we sacrificed a maiden to it every so often. This was not good news to me, as I have only the two daughters and they are both maidens. But the father of my wife also said that a knight in black leather would be able to defeat the dragon. We had some terrible weeks, Sir Guy. To make it fair for everybody, I initiated a lottery, in which we chose one maiden each seven days. Some of the families in the town tried to sneak away before letting their daughters participate, especially after the first one was … sacrificed. I had to shut the gates and forbid every female to leave, maiden or no. Things became so dire that I made a vow before God that I would reward that knight with the hand of one of my daughters in marriage if he would only come quickly. The very next day, my own daughter Quenilda was chosen, and I wished that I had taken my family and snuck away myself. But I had made my oath, and I could not go back on it. I cannot go back on it now. I must offer my daughters to you again, Sir Guy."
Guy opened his mouth to speak, but the Earl held up a hand. "No, do not say anything. Consider it carefully before you decide. I will not expect – indeed, I will not listen to an answer from you until Quenilda has told me that you are recovered. We will not broach this subject again until then."
Guy looked down at his king, which had been driven into one corner. He hadn't tipped it over to signal the end of the game, and it remained standing, alone among white pieces.
"Yes, my lord," he replied dutifully.
"I will ask Quenilda if you are strong enough to leave your bed and join us downstairs for dinner to-morrow," the Earl said. He picked up the pieces, starting with Guy's king, and put them into the box. "We can get to know each other better. And of course, we can play again, but for now, I wish you a good night."
Taking the box and the board with him, he stood up and strolled away. Guy watched him go; thinking of the times when he would have gladly killed for the chance to become the son-in-law of an earl. Now, the prospect of increasing his standing and his power brought him no joy at all. He'd found out that other things in life were more important – but of course the knowledge had come too late.
Only a few moments after the Earl had exited the room, Eva came in with a tray, and Quenilda followed, seating herself in the high-backed chair that her father had just vacated while Eva set out the food and utensils.
"I had a little dream in the great hall this afternoon," Quenilda said conversationally as they ate. Guy didn't respond, and she went on. "I dreamed that you left Throxenby alone and robbers attacked you."
Having been chewing while she'd been talking, Guy hadn't heard exactly what she'd said, and tried to sound casual as he asked, "Robbers, or Robin Hood, my lady?"
"Robbers," Quenilda said. "But I think they wanted to take you to Robin Hood – at least, that was the impression I got in my dream."
"Take me to Hood?" Guy scoffed. "Why on earth would they want to take me to Hood?"
Quenilda bit her lip, looking away, then looked back at him. "I've heard rumours that Robin Hood will pay a bounty of fifty pounds to the man who brings you to him in Sherwood Forest."
Guy was astonished for a moment, then common sense asserted itself and he made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "What, so he can kill me? He's had plenty of chances already."
But even as he spoke, he found himself thinking that things had changed since they'd returned from the Holy Land. He'd scarcely had the energy or the inclination to do much of anything except visit Marian's old rooms, think about how much he hated himself for all that he'd done, and drink until he forgot everything. Hood would have had to come into the castle itself to kill him – Guy felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he realized that Hood could have done just that at any time in the last months, and he would not have been in a position to fight back, or even notice if Hood stuck a sword into his belly.
"It's only a rumour," Lady Quenilda said with a smile.
"You mean, it was only a dream," Guy grunted. From her place on the mattress, the serving girl Eva made a strangled sound that could have been a protest, and Guy gave her a sharp look. She ignored him, looking only at her mistress, but Quenilda must have given her a similar look because after a moment, she lowered her eyes contritely.
Changing the subject and glancing at Guy again, Quenilda said, "The weather is still good. To-morrow, we'll wrap you up well and let you take some fresh air in the courtyard."
Part 4
The next time Guy woke, he was able to sit up long enough to eat a bowl of warm broth, and the time after that, he was able to manage most of a slice of bread with more broth. He awoke the next morning with something approaching an appetite. Except for his left arm, his aches and pains had disappeared, and his temperature felt normal, at least to him.
Eva was already awake, and Guy could see that both she and Quenilda had been sleeping on a large mattress on the floor next to his bed while he'd been sick. Rising from it fully dressed, Eva quietly refused to let him get up until he'd donned enough clothing to keep him from catching a chill, and brought him socks, a nightshirt, and his own trousers. When he was finally dressed to her satisfaction, she offered to support him to the privy, but Guy waved her away. "I can walk on my own."
"Yes, my lord," Eva replied. When Guy had finished, however, he found her hovering outside the door, and when he gave her a glare, she said, "I just wanted to make sure you didn't fall in, my lord. I would have had to wake my lady to help get you out, my lord, and she's so tired! She's nursed you herself these past few days."
Not certain how to respond, either to the ridiculous idea of falling into the privy or the thought of having to be rescued by two young women, Guy merely grunted in acknowledgment. Back in the room, he sank down on the bed, grateful that he hadn't had to walk any farther. His legs felt very wobbly, but at least he wasn't tired enough to fall asleep again immediately. His stomach growled, and Eva said quietly, "I'll bring you some breakfast, my lord."
"No more broth," Guy told her. "I want meat. Pork, if you've got any."
"Yes, my lord," Eva said. Glancing over at the sleeping Quenilda one last time, as though to make sure Guy hadn't woke her, Eva curtsied and went out. Guy wrestled himself into a more comfortable position, then leaned back against the headboard. He was just arranging the covers over his legs, and wondering if he could ask Eva to rub his feet later, when he heard the sound of a lute directly under one of the arrow slit windows. A moment later, two voices combined in song; a woman's and a man's.
"It was a day of clouds and thick fog, when Sir Guy went out a-hunting a hog."
Hearing his name, Guy sat up a little and listened harder. At first, he thought they might be singing about another Sir Guy, but eventually, it became clear that they were indeed celebrating his triumph over the dragon. It was all completely exaggerated, of course, with the dragon and himself nearly, but not quite, killing each other several times, so that the fight lasted almost a full day instead of less than an hour. Quenilda, the plain daughter of an Earl, had been turned into a princess who was not only beautiful, but also had the second sight, and the dragon had been given the power of speech! His words – taunts, really – were amazingly like the Sheriff's, and Guy didn't know whether to be amused or horrified.
The minstrel was just describing a ferocious battle both on the surface of the ocean and below its waters as well, which Guy would never have let himself get into, when the door to his chamber opened and Eva came in, bearing a tray of food. Her eyes went immediately to the mattress on the floor and she exclaimed, "Oh, my lady! I was hoping you'd sleep much longer!"
She all but dumped the tray onto Guy's lap and strode towards the window, looking out as well as she could. "I'll go down and tell Lady Isolda and Ivo that you want them to go do their singing somewhere else, my lady."
"No, let them stay, Eva. It's actually quite nice, being woken with a song," Quenilda said, sitting up. "Don't you agree, Sir Guy?"
Guy had just stuffed a slice of cold pork into his mouth, and was only able to give a noncomittal grunt. In addition to the meat, there was also bread, cheese, and a goblet of red wine; a breakfast he was looking forward to.
"You must be feeling better if your appetite has come back, Sir Guy," Quenilda went on, getting to her feet. "I hope you slept well?"
After swallowing, Guy answered, "I did, yes, Lady Quenilda."
Eva coughed in a slightly reproachful way, and Guy felt obliged to add, "How did you sleep, my lady?"
"I slept quite well." Quenilda came over to the side of the bed and laid her hand on Guy's forehead, then moved it around to the back of his neck. Her skin was warm and dry. "Your fever hasn't returned, that's good. Eva, bring me some breakfast, too, and after I've eaten, we'll look at his arm."
"Yes, my lady," Eva said, and went out again. Quenilda sat down on the stool by the fireplace and pulled on her shoes, then went out to the privy. When she was gone, Guy could clearly hear the words of the song from outside, and continued to listen. Sadly, he had missed all the action; the Guy in the song was now marching to the church, about to choose one of the princesses to be his bride. After a stanza in which they were both described as beautiful, noble, and graceful, however, the music ended abruptly.
Quenilda came back, stopping just inside the door to listen, and then sighed a little in the silence. "Oh, they've finished already. Were you hoping to hear more, too, Sir Guy?"
Guy shrugged, and Quenilda smiled, then went over to the small table that held a selection of pots, jars, and jugs. "Are you in any pain, Sir Guy?"
"No," he snapped, his mouth puckering uncomfortably at the thought of what might be in those containers. "I feel fine, and I don't need any more herbs."
"Hungry and grouchy," Quenilda said. "You are definitely getting better, Sir Guy. Just a few more days of rest and you should be back to your old self again."
"Good," Guy grunted.
"I often think that's the worst part for a man," Quenilda went on, "no longer sick, but not well enough to get up and be active again. Do you play chess, Sir Guy?"
"I've played a few games, my lady," Guy admitted, but didn't mention that he was always obliged to lose, and even then, the Sheriff often didn't bother finishing a game. He usually ended a match by picking up the pieces and pelting them at Guy whenever he felt like it. "Why do you ask?"
"You'll need something to pass the time. The Earl has a chess set, I'll ask if we can borrow it. He might even want to play against you himself – he's quite good."
Guy was saved from having to answer by the door opening and Eva coming in with Quenilda's breakfast. She made room for it on the tiny table, then brought the stool over for her mistress to sit upon while she herself went back to the mattress to sit and nibble a chunk of bread.
"Do you like music, Sir Guy?" Quenilda asked. "Now that you are feeling better, I could ask Ivo to come and play for you on his lute. And my sister Isolda sings quite well, as you just heard."
"That was your sister?" Guy asked bluntly, and only belatedly remembered to add, "my lady."
"The Earl says she has the voice of an angel," Quenilda went on. "Of course, that song they were singing just now was quite silly. Whoever heard of a dragon that could talk? I'd ask them to sing something else. I don't suppose you want to listen to anything about Robin Hood, either, but perhaps Ivo can remember one of the old love songs. In fact, I think he's singing one right now."
She was right. The minstrel outside the window had begun to sing again, this time by himself, and Guy recognized a well-known romantic ballad. Having already grimaced at the mention of Hood, Guy now frowned even more at the thought of having to listen to love songs. It reminded him that the Earl had offered to let him choose which of his daughters he would marry, when the very thought of marriage or getting close to any female ever again made his stomach churn.
"No music," Guy snarled, pushing his tray away and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Both Eva and Quenilda stood up to help him, but he waved them away and staggered over to the window. Although he couldn't see the musicians from his vantage point, he could hear them even more clearly than in bed. Guy put his mouth to the arrow slit and shouted, "Shut up down there or I'll come down and cut your fingers off!"
Behind him, Eva gasped, and Quenilda said, "Stop terrorizing our bard and get back to bed immediately, Sir Guy!"
But the music had already stopped, and a young man with a lute stepped out into Guy's range of vision. He looked quizzically up to the arrow slits, but was then joined by a young woman whom Guy recognized as Lady Isolda. Grabbing the man's hand, Lady Isolda dragged him hastily away out of sight, throwing quick, frightened glances up to where Guy stood glaring down at them. Only when they had completely disappeared did Guy turn around and stroll back, but his triumphant walk was ruined when his legs buckled just short of the bed and he fell to his knees.
"Eva, help," Quenilda commanded. They lifted Guy with an embarrassing lack of effort and settled him on the bed again.
"Sir Guy, if you do too much before you're ready, you will have a relapse, or take a chill," Quenilda told Guy sternly, drawing the covers up to his waist. "And that would mean us having to dose you again with more herbs."
She emphasized the words "more herbs" in a threatening way and gave him a stern look, which Guy ignored in the same way as he ignored the hate-filled stares of the peasants around Nottingham. Instead, he settled himself more comfortably by leaning back against the headboard and bit into his last chunk of bread while Quenilda sat down and resumed eating as well. When she'd finished, she stood up and came over to Guy, then took his arm.
"Let's check this now, Eva," she said. Guy watched as they rolled up the sleeve of his nightshirt and unwound the bandages, and stared in horror when his skin was revealed. While he'd been ill, his arm had turned green, a dark and sickly shade of green that even smelled bad.
"Oh, yes, that's looking much better," Quenilda said, taking up a wet cloth and rubbing his arm vigorously with it. To Guy's amazement and relief, the green disappeared to show healthy flesh underneath, and he realized the colour had come from a paste of crushed herbs.
"Did you think you were turning into a dragon yourself, Sir Guy?" Quenilda asked, and when he looked up, he saw amusement twinkling in her eyes. Not knowing how to answer, he remained silent and looked away.
"I think the danger has passed, but if you feel a sudden urge to try to fly or to breathe fire, you must tell me immediately," Quenilda went on. "And you, Eva, must tell me if Sir Guy wants to eat a maiden for his next meal, instead of pork or mutton."
"Yes, my lady," Eva replied eagerly, her eyes twinkling with amusement even though Sir Guy gave her his best withering look.
"Boil some spring water, Eva. I'll make a new poultice; the wounds haven't healed completely."
Eva went over to where there were two buckets on the floor near the fireplace, and made a sound of dismay. "I'll have to fetch more, my lady, these are empty."
"Then go and fetch some," Quenilda said mildly. Eva took the buckets and went out, and Quenilda sat down again at the table to work on the herbs. Guy took the opportunity to make his own examination of his arm; the skin around the puncture wounds from the dragon's teeth was still red and slightly swollen. He flexed it carefully, then moved his arm around in different positions before finally letting it rest, satisfied that nothing had been permanently damaged.
Eva returned eventually and boiled the water. Quenilda added a small amount to the herbs she'd crushed, then with Eva's help, she smeared the entire mass over Guy's arm and bound it up again with clean cloths.
"I think you'll heal quite well, Sir Guy," she said, tying the final knot with a cheerful flourish. Guy forced his lips into a small smile and murmured, "Thank you, my lady."
"Eva, bring me the comb," Quenilda said, then turned her attention back to Guy. "We'll comb out your hair before it gets any worse, and then I'll see about borrowing the Earl's chess set."
Guy suffered silently as she worked the comb through the tangles, not always gently. At last she was finished, but as soon as she handed the comb back to Eva, the maid said, "You can't appear before the Earl looking like that, my lady. I'll make you presentable first."
Quenilda sighed a little, but sat down on the stool, and Guy watched as Eva undid her mistress' plait of dark hair, raking through it with her fingers first before applying the comb. The simple scene brought back memories of his mother, sitting in front of the fire in her chamber while her maid worked on her hair. He remembered, too, that his mother had insisted on grooming Guy herself, at least before he'd been sent away as a page, and a feeling of sadness and regret stole into his heart. Pushing the feeling violently away again, Guy closed his eyes.
+++++
In the late afternoon, when both Quenilda and Eva were out, the Earl came up to visit Guy. He was preceded by a man servant carrying a large, high-backed chair, and another one carrying a table, but he himself held a chess board and a wooden box.
"Sir Guy," he said formally as the servants set everything up close to the fireplace. "My daughter tells me you play chess."
"I have played a few games, my lord," Guy said cautiously. The servants, brothers by the looks of them, pushed the room's stool into place across from the Earl, and Guy sat down at the man's invitation.
"Give me the pleasure of a battle, then, if you would," the Earl said. He laid the board on the table, removed the pieces from the box, and set them up with quick, expert movements. When he'd finished, only two pawns remained, one of each colour. He rolled them between the palms of his hands, then closed his fists over them without looking, and extended his arms towards Guy. "You may choose, Sir Guy."
Guy tipped the Earl's left hand, and the Earl opened it to show a black pawn. Guy was relieved; he was quite used to playing black against the Sheriff's white and would have found it strange for the positions to suddenly be reversed.
They played in silence for a time, and then the Earl remarked, "My daughter Quenilda says you're recovering well, Sir Guy."
"The maid said Lady Quenilda nursed me herself, my lord," Guy replied awkwardly. "She did well, and I am grateful."
The Earl nodded at the compliment. "She is very good with herbs. And my other daughter, Isolda, is very musical."
Guy made a polite sound as he moved his knight, remembering how Lady Isolda had thrown herself at her father's feet and begged him not to make her marry Guy, and how frightened she'd appeared when she'd dragged the minstrel away from Guy's window.
"From what I heard, you are not such a friend of music," the Earl went on. "It was reported to me that you threatened to cut her fingers off – and the fingers of my minstrel."
Guy glanced up guiltily, worried that his hasty words of the morning would have serious repercussions. He swallowed, and said, "Yes, my lord, I did. I –" he hesitated for a moment, then blurted out the truth. "—do not enjoy love songs."
"No, I suppose you would not," the Earl said, sliding a pawn forwards. "Still, I usually find that simply telling people what you want works best. Threats make them angry and resentful."
This was a foreign concept to Guy, especially as the Sheriff held exactly the opposite opinion. Still, he was a guest in the Earl's household, and the Earl's younger daughter had very probably saved his life with her herbs and her nursing. In the same way in which he agreed with Vasey, no matter what his own thoughts on the matter, because he knew his obligations to the man, Guy said, "Yes, my lord."
"Well," the Earl went on. "Despite this little incident, Quenilda claims that you are not a monster, that you came to us because you were in pain and lost. Lost, in more ways than one, she said, and I must admit, I tend to believe her judgements more easily than those of Isolda."
Guy frowned. He didn't remember telling Quenilda anything about why he'd come to Throxenby, and wondered how she'd managed to come up with ideas that were uncomfortably close to the truth. Watching him, the Earl lifted his eyebrows. "If you were looking for a wife, you could definitely do worse than Quenilda."
"I am not looking for a wife, my lord," Guy stated. "I did not come here seeking rewards."
The Earl nodded. "You said that once before, I remember, but I also know you were already quite ill with the dragonbite at the time. I wondered if you spoke true, or if you were already rambling."
"I spoke true, my lord," Guy said, looking him directly in the eye.
"Well," the Earl said again, then fell silent. Guy watched as he moved one of his chess pieces, and they resumed the game without speaking. Eventually, the Earl drove Guy's king into checkmate, and leaned back in his chair.
"We think the dragon must have come from across the sea," he said unexpectedly. "The father of my wife, who has the second sight, told us that it could be kept from ravishing the town if we sacrificed a maiden to it every so often. This was not good news to me, as I have only the two daughters and they are both maidens. But the father of my wife also said that a knight in black leather would be able to defeat the dragon. We had some terrible weeks, Sir Guy. To make it fair for everybody, I initiated a lottery, in which we chose one maiden each seven days. Some of the families in the town tried to sneak away before letting their daughters participate, especially after the first one was … sacrificed. I had to shut the gates and forbid every female to leave, maiden or no. Things became so dire that I made a vow before God that I would reward that knight with the hand of one of my daughters in marriage if he would only come quickly. The very next day, my own daughter Quenilda was chosen, and I wished that I had taken my family and snuck away myself. But I had made my oath, and I could not go back on it. I cannot go back on it now. I must offer my daughters to you again, Sir Guy."
Guy opened his mouth to speak, but the Earl held up a hand. "No, do not say anything. Consider it carefully before you decide. I will not expect – indeed, I will not listen to an answer from you until Quenilda has told me that you are recovered. We will not broach this subject again until then."
Guy looked down at his king, which had been driven into one corner. He hadn't tipped it over to signal the end of the game, and it remained standing, alone among white pieces.
"Yes, my lord," he replied dutifully.
"I will ask Quenilda if you are strong enough to leave your bed and join us downstairs for dinner to-morrow," the Earl said. He picked up the pieces, starting with Guy's king, and put them into the box. "We can get to know each other better. And of course, we can play again, but for now, I wish you a good night."
Taking the box and the board with him, he stood up and strolled away. Guy watched him go; thinking of the times when he would have gladly killed for the chance to become the son-in-law of an earl. Now, the prospect of increasing his standing and his power brought him no joy at all. He'd found out that other things in life were more important – but of course the knowledge had come too late.
Only a few moments after the Earl had exited the room, Eva came in with a tray, and Quenilda followed, seating herself in the high-backed chair that her father had just vacated while Eva set out the food and utensils.
"I had a little dream in the great hall this afternoon," Quenilda said conversationally as they ate. Guy didn't respond, and she went on. "I dreamed that you left Throxenby alone and robbers attacked you."
Having been chewing while she'd been talking, Guy hadn't heard exactly what she'd said, and tried to sound casual as he asked, "Robbers, or Robin Hood, my lady?"
"Robbers," Quenilda said. "But I think they wanted to take you to Robin Hood – at least, that was the impression I got in my dream."
"Take me to Hood?" Guy scoffed. "Why on earth would they want to take me to Hood?"
Quenilda bit her lip, looking away, then looked back at him. "I've heard rumours that Robin Hood will pay a bounty of fifty pounds to the man who brings you to him in Sherwood Forest."
Guy was astonished for a moment, then common sense asserted itself and he made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "What, so he can kill me? He's had plenty of chances already."
But even as he spoke, he found himself thinking that things had changed since they'd returned from the Holy Land. He'd scarcely had the energy or the inclination to do much of anything except visit Marian's old rooms, think about how much he hated himself for all that he'd done, and drink until he forgot everything. Hood would have had to come into the castle itself to kill him – Guy felt a cold shiver run down his spine as he realized that Hood could have done just that at any time in the last months, and he would not have been in a position to fight back, or even notice if Hood stuck a sword into his belly.
"It's only a rumour," Lady Quenilda said with a smile.
"You mean, it was only a dream," Guy grunted. From her place on the mattress, the serving girl Eva made a strangled sound that could have been a protest, and Guy gave her a sharp look. She ignored him, looking only at her mistress, but Quenilda must have given her a similar look because after a moment, she lowered her eyes contritely.
Changing the subject and glancing at Guy again, Quenilda said, "The weather is still good. To-morrow, we'll wrap you up well and let you take some fresh air in the courtyard."
Part 4