The Dragon of Throxenby, Part 12
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When the feast was finally over and it was time for bed, Guy discovered that Sir Edmund of Kimberworth had taken over not only his position in the Sheriff's employ, but also Guy's chamber in the castle. Disgruntled, Guy wondered if Sir Edmund had moved into Locksley Manor, too, before the dragon had burned it down. Every other room in the castle was now occupied as well, and Guy ended up on a mattress on the floor beside Thurstan's bed, next to where the servant Godfrey lay. No doubt exhausted by their journey, the two Throxenby men soon dropped off, but Guy had spent so many hours asleep in the last few days that he remained wide awake for a long time. He lay in the darkness, listening to the wind and the rain outside, and thinking of many different things.
It was clear there was no longer any room in Nottingham for him, in more ways than one. Guy had been a fool to think that he could leave and come back again to find everything exactly the same. He himself had certainly changed while he'd been away, and the rest of the world didn't stand still, either. He simply hadn't realized how much could change in such a short time, how fast he could lose his position, his house, his fortune – even the very clothes he'd left Nottingham with. In fact, he had nothing left of his old life except his title and his boots.
Well, he couldn't change his title, nor did he want to, but the thought came that he was free to shed his boots as well, and make a completely new life to go with his new reputation as a dragonslayer.
Free, Guy mused. He was free. He didn't have to stay at the Sheriff's side and accept the abuse the man delighted in heaping upon him. He could move somewhere else, he thought, and find someone else to serve, someone who would appreciate him more. He already knew whom he'd choose, if the Earl would have him. And if the Earl didn't want him, perhaps he could recommend another lord who would. Hadn't the outlaws said something about a brother? Guy wondered how alike they were; some siblings were like chalk and cheese. On the other hand, the Sheriff had had a sister who'd been exactly like him. Remembering her, Guy soon found himself wishing that the Sheriff would meet a similarly unsavoury end, and the sooner the better. But that was no longer his concern. He'd ask to speak to the Earl in the morning, and if his reception was positive, then he'd gather all his courage and ask about Quenilda as well.
Quenilda. She'd managed to escape from Osbert and his men, and she'd taken him with her. Then she'd negotiated with Robin Hood – trying to strike a deal with the outlaw to keep Guy safe even before they'd heard of the dragon. And afterwards, Guy remembered her shamefaced admission that she hadn't actully seen him defeat the dragon, but that she'd simply had faith he could do it. That faith made him feel proud and humble at the same time; proud, that he'd actually been able to live up to her expectations, and humble that she'd envisioned anything so lofty for any man, let alone for him.
Guy remembered Quenilda's smile, the way she'd patted her own backside as though that was where her dignity was located, the concern on her face when she'd seen his burned leg, and later, on the way to Nottingham, the feel of her small hand in his bigger one. And above all, there was the way she'd ridden after him that morning when he'd left Throxenby. She'd been too late to keep him from falling into Osbert's clutches, but she had tried time and again to make his captivity bearable, asking Osbert and his men for food and water for both of them, and pretending she'd had a dream in order to keep them from beating him to death. Guy remembered fondly how noble and determined she'd looked when she'd stood up to Osbert, how ready she'd appeared to take the blows that were meant for Guy, and how tender her voice had sounded close to his ear when, later, she'd confessed that she'd lied about her dream, that she'd only wanted the men to stop hitting him.
She had feelings for him. She had to! Guy hadn't dared ask her why she'd come after him, but surely she wouldn't have done all that she'd done if she didn't feel something for him. And Guy was ready to admit that her tenacity had stirred him, had broken through his defences and conquered his heart. Not that his defences had been very good – it had been a struggle to get them up in the first place, let alone keep them up. Well, they were down now, and would probably always stay that way, at least around Quenilda. Had he been a fool to reject the offer of marriage and ride away from Throxenby? Perhaps. On the other hand, however, if he'd stayed, he would always be wondering if she really liked him, or if she'd simply wedded him out of duty. This way, he could ask her to become his wife without that complication – if her father agreed, of course.
Marriage. Marriage to Quenilda. Guy found himself smiling in the darkness, just thinking about it, and tried to remind himself that there was still a chance that she, or her father, would turn him down. He'd misjudged people before, but this time, he'd do it right. He wouldn't rush in or otherwise make a fool of himself. He'd ask once, and then he'd accept the answer and form his plans accordingly.
When morning came, Guy discovered he had slept too late to catch the Earl before breakfast. Not wanting to broach the subject over the meal where everybody could hear, Guy listened instead to the Sheriff's plans of inspecting the dragon's carcase and the remains of the village of Locksley. It was still raining, and yet everybody seemed eager to ride out and have a look. Almost everybody, that was. Down in the courtyard, humiliated by the fact that he had to beg both a sword and a horse from the Sheriff, Guy glanced around for Quenilda, hoping to see her smile or give him some other kind of encouragement, but she wasn't there.
Concerned, he guided his horse over to the Earl, and asked, "My lord, is Lady Quenilda well?"
"Quite well, Sir Guy. Why do you ask?" the Earl replied, but then he smiled and answered his own question. "You're wondering why she isn't riding out with us? She's already seen the dragon, and she wants to take a bath."
"Oh," Guy said, trying not to show his disappointment too obviously. "Of course, my lord."
Then the Sheriff came up on the Earl's other side and called for them to set out. Although Guy had hoped to catch the Earl on his own at some point during the ride, the Sheriff remained where he was the entire time. Sir Edmund had insinuated himself next to Lady Isolda, and Guy was left to choose between accompanying the Countess or falling back to ride alone. He chose the Countess and as they made polite, but stilted conversation, Guy realized that, unlike her daughter, she was rather shy. After a bit of thought, Guy complimented her on Quenilda, smiled as she smiled back, then let the conversation lapse. They rode on in more comfortable silence.
Sometime during the night, the rain had extinguished the fires, and the village was left half-burned. Guy hadn't expected to see anybody in the ruins, but there was a man drawing water from the well, and another prodding the charred remains of a house with his boot. As he and the other riders came closer, Guy was also afforded a view of a distinctly familiar covered wagon and a third man staring at the carcase of the dragon. Guy glanced back to the men near the well, close enough now to recognize them – and be recognized.
Drawing his sword, Guy gallopped forwards, shouting, "Guards! Arrest those men! Arrest them!"
The men had already started to run to the relative safety of the forest, leaving the wagon behind, but the guards, on horseback, were faster. They were also used to dealing with panicked, fleeing villagers, and swarmed out in one of their most-practised manoeuvers. Soon, they had surrounded each of the men, disarmed them and driven them back to where the Earl, the Sheriff, and the others had gathered next to the dragon.
Guy had gone after Osbert, and now he dismounted and jabbed his sword at Osbert's neck. The man flinched back, real fear in his eyes, and Guy smiled in cold pleasure.
"My lord, my lady," Guy said, addressing the Earl and the Countess in turn. "May I present, the men who kidnapped your daughter?"
The Earl dismounted as well, and came forward. Gently, he laid his hand on the blade of Guy's sword and gave it a slight push. Guy removed his sword from the man's neck, but kept it ready instead of sheathing it altogether.
"Osbert," the Earl said.
"We didn't hurt her!" the boy, Luke, protested, but the Earl silenced him with a look and turned back to Osbert. For several moments, they stared at each other without speaking, until the Earl finally asked, "Why?"
"I wouldn't have touched her if she hadn't come after Sir Guy," Osbert said. "And the boy's right, we didn't hurt her."
Under the Earl's stare, he added in a small voice, "We just kept her from running away to get help, that's all."
"And Sir Guy?" the Earl went on, his voice calm and patient.
Osbert's face changed then, turning red with anger. "My lord, he came too late! We'd all heard about the dreams, about the knight in black leather who'd kill the dragon, but he came too late! Why didn't he come earlier, why did Mathilda have to die?"
The Earl opened his mouth to speak, but Osbert went on. "You know what was worse, my lord? Worse than seeing my daughter die and your daughter live? It was finding out that it was Sir Guy of Gisborne who'd slain the dragon. Sir Guy of Gisborne, who lives here in Locksley, in this village and serves that Sheriff!"
Lived, Guy thought. Served. Not anymore. He glanced over to the Sheriff to see the man's reaction, but the Sheriff merely looked as bored as though he were at the Council of Nobles.
"Why was that worse?" the Earl asked.
"Because he was lord of the manor here when my sister died – the mother of my nephew, Luke! She starved to death in front of her sons, her family, because of them – Sir Guy of Gisborne and the Sheriff of Nottingham. And then her husband, Luke's father, got killed, too, because of them! That's what was worse! He leaves death and misery behind him everywhere he goes, and when he finally does something halfway decent, he rescues your daughter and not mine! Do you think I could resist when I heard about the reward that Robin Hood was offering? Do you think I could just stand aside and not try to avenge what he'd done? I thought it must be a sign, an opportunity sent straight from heaven when Sir Guy of Gisborne left Throxenby on his own, instead of staying where it was safe and getting married."
"And you would have got away with it, too, if it hadn't been for that pesky girl chasing after Gisborne," the Sheriff put in smoothly, untouched by the man's harangue. "I simply can't imagine what she sees in you, Guy."
Guy didn't know, either, but he hoped that perhaps one day soon he could convince Quenilda to tell him what it was.
"I have also heard of Sir Guy's reputation," the Earl said. "But I know that people can change. I've seen it many times in my life. Unfortunately, most of them change for the worse. Grief can make a man bitter and reckless, for instance. So can greed." He paused and looked hard at Osbert. "Oh, yes, my daughter told me what you said, how I'd never offered you anything in exchange for Mathilda, and so you weren't going to let the chance of those fifty pounds pass you by. But I think you would have wanted that money even if Mathilda hadn't been chosen."
Osbert sneered silently.
"You were a decent man when I first knew you, but now you've changed for the worse," the Earl went on. "Was it grief, greed, or a combination of both? I don't know. But I do know that some people, when they change, manage to change for the better. I believe – I hope – we're witnessing a miracle of this kind in Sir Guy and it was this miracle that spurred my daughter to her … unexpected behaviour."
"Miracle!" Osbert hawked and spat at Guy's feet. Despite the warm feeling that welled up in him at the Earl's words, Guy jabbed his sword in the direction of the man's neck, just close enough to be threatening. The Earl, however, made a gesture meant to stop any more aggressive movements. "Osbert, thank you for explaining your reasons."
As Osbert accepted his gratitude with a grimace of disbelief and scorn, the Earl went on. "However, the fact remains, you've deliberately hurt a member of my family, all of you. And all of you will receive double the same hurt in return. Sir Guy, would you help me tie them up?"
"With pleasure," Guy growled. He crossed over to the wagon and said, "There should be some rope in here."
There was, although most of it was tangled in knots or cut into inconvenient lengths. As Guy was sorting out what they needed, Luke asked the Earl, "What are you going to do to us?"
"Just keep you from running away to get help," Guy mocked, letting go of the ropes and slamming his fist into the young man's face. Luke staggered, but managed to remain upright, and from the circle of onlookers, Guy heard a distinctly feminine gasp. Thinking for one single moment that it was Quenilda, Guy glanced up to see Isolda instead, regarding the scene with horror. Guy suddenly realized that, if he married Quenilda, Isolda would be his sister, too, and his present actions were only reinforcing every negative opinion that she'd ever had of him. Although the temptation was great, Guy did not strike Luke a second time.
"As I said, you'll receive double whatever you did to my daughter," the Earl reiterated.
"We never hurt her!" Luke protested, putting a hand to his face. "Not like that!"
"Then you'll only remained tied up for twice as long as you kept her," the Earl said.
Guy bound all the men hand and foot in exactly the way he himself had been tied, and when he'd finished with the last knots, he straightened up and asked, "Shall I put them in the back of the wagon, then?"
"If that's where they kept Quenilda, then, yes," the Earl said. "What about the poppy juice?"
Guy searched the wagon for the tiny bottle. It was suspiciously light, and he shook it, then peered inside. "My lord, it's empty."
The keg of ale which Quenilda had doctored with her own supply of poppy juice was empty, too, and the Earl said. "Well. They'll just have to remain awake all day, then."
"You'll want to post a guard to make sure they don't try to escape," Guy said, and the Earl nodded, then chose one from his own retinue. The guard received the Earl's instructions with a nod and an expression on his face that promised both intelligence and competence. He then helped Guy transport the men from the muddy ground to the floorboards of the wagon, and then, without asking, he took over the duty of driving the wagon back to Nottingham. Comparing the man favourably to the Sheriff's dullards, glad he wouldn't be working with them again, Guy took the reins of his horse to lead it behind his own.
When they arrived in the courtyard of the castle, the Earl ordered the wagon to be placed over to one side where the guard would have some protection from the elements.
"Are you sure you don't want to borrow my dungeons?" the Sheriff offered with a suggestive smile. "Much less comfortable, if you know what I mean."
"Thank you, but the punishment should fit the crime," the Earl replied. "Anyway, why bother to shift them when we'd only have to put them back again in the morning?"
Guy looked sharply at the Earl, but it was the Sheriff who asked, "In the morning?"
"We've enjoyed your hospitality and your help in finding my daughter, but now that she's been returned, there's no need for us to linger," the Earl explained.
The Sheriff pouted just a little. "I thought you'd stay longer, perhaps join me in a hunt? There's plenty of game in the forest … outlaws and such."
"Hunting's never been the sport for me," the Earl said, smiling diplomatically. "And alas, I have duties that I must attend to."
"Put them off a day or two," the Sheriff suggested, and glanced sideways at Guy. "That's the thing about duties – unlike people, they never run away. They never disappear and then come back when they're least expected and least wanted."
"No, that's exactly the problem, they don't," the Earl said. "They just get bigger and more complicated if you don't take care of them promptly. And speaking of duties, what do you think we ought to do with that dragon corpse? If we were closer to the ocean, I'd want to put it on a ship, sail it out beyond the sight of land, and bury it in the depths of the sea."
"If only you'd thought of doing that with the first dragon, hmmm?" the Sheriff asked, but the Earl refused to take the insult and simply agreed with him. "Yes. Well. As it is, I'd suggest burying this one very deep."
"And covering the grave with great stones," the Sheriff added, nodding. "In case anything nasty wants to come crawling back again, the way nasty things do." He looked around, saw Guy, then glanced deliberately beyond him. "Edmund, the peasants of Locksley obviously have nothing better to do than hang around here. Round them up and set them to work!"
"Right away, my lord," Sir Edmund replied, getting back up onto his horse. Guy watched him go, then glanced back to the Sheriff and caught a quick, triumphant look in his direction. Once, Guy would have felt uncertain, insulted, even threatened by the Sheriff's remarks and behaviour, but now he simply didn't care. He had other things to worry about. Lifting his nose slightly and looking down it at the shorter man, Guy turned and sauntered up the stairs into the castle.
Part 13
When the feast was finally over and it was time for bed, Guy discovered that Sir Edmund of Kimberworth had taken over not only his position in the Sheriff's employ, but also Guy's chamber in the castle. Disgruntled, Guy wondered if Sir Edmund had moved into Locksley Manor, too, before the dragon had burned it down. Every other room in the castle was now occupied as well, and Guy ended up on a mattress on the floor beside Thurstan's bed, next to where the servant Godfrey lay. No doubt exhausted by their journey, the two Throxenby men soon dropped off, but Guy had spent so many hours asleep in the last few days that he remained wide awake for a long time. He lay in the darkness, listening to the wind and the rain outside, and thinking of many different things.
It was clear there was no longer any room in Nottingham for him, in more ways than one. Guy had been a fool to think that he could leave and come back again to find everything exactly the same. He himself had certainly changed while he'd been away, and the rest of the world didn't stand still, either. He simply hadn't realized how much could change in such a short time, how fast he could lose his position, his house, his fortune – even the very clothes he'd left Nottingham with. In fact, he had nothing left of his old life except his title and his boots.
Well, he couldn't change his title, nor did he want to, but the thought came that he was free to shed his boots as well, and make a completely new life to go with his new reputation as a dragonslayer.
Free, Guy mused. He was free. He didn't have to stay at the Sheriff's side and accept the abuse the man delighted in heaping upon him. He could move somewhere else, he thought, and find someone else to serve, someone who would appreciate him more. He already knew whom he'd choose, if the Earl would have him. And if the Earl didn't want him, perhaps he could recommend another lord who would. Hadn't the outlaws said something about a brother? Guy wondered how alike they were; some siblings were like chalk and cheese. On the other hand, the Sheriff had had a sister who'd been exactly like him. Remembering her, Guy soon found himself wishing that the Sheriff would meet a similarly unsavoury end, and the sooner the better. But that was no longer his concern. He'd ask to speak to the Earl in the morning, and if his reception was positive, then he'd gather all his courage and ask about Quenilda as well.
Quenilda. She'd managed to escape from Osbert and his men, and she'd taken him with her. Then she'd negotiated with Robin Hood – trying to strike a deal with the outlaw to keep Guy safe even before they'd heard of the dragon. And afterwards, Guy remembered her shamefaced admission that she hadn't actully seen him defeat the dragon, but that she'd simply had faith he could do it. That faith made him feel proud and humble at the same time; proud, that he'd actually been able to live up to her expectations, and humble that she'd envisioned anything so lofty for any man, let alone for him.
Guy remembered Quenilda's smile, the way she'd patted her own backside as though that was where her dignity was located, the concern on her face when she'd seen his burned leg, and later, on the way to Nottingham, the feel of her small hand in his bigger one. And above all, there was the way she'd ridden after him that morning when he'd left Throxenby. She'd been too late to keep him from falling into Osbert's clutches, but she had tried time and again to make his captivity bearable, asking Osbert and his men for food and water for both of them, and pretending she'd had a dream in order to keep them from beating him to death. Guy remembered fondly how noble and determined she'd looked when she'd stood up to Osbert, how ready she'd appeared to take the blows that were meant for Guy, and how tender her voice had sounded close to his ear when, later, she'd confessed that she'd lied about her dream, that she'd only wanted the men to stop hitting him.
She had feelings for him. She had to! Guy hadn't dared ask her why she'd come after him, but surely she wouldn't have done all that she'd done if she didn't feel something for him. And Guy was ready to admit that her tenacity had stirred him, had broken through his defences and conquered his heart. Not that his defences had been very good – it had been a struggle to get them up in the first place, let alone keep them up. Well, they were down now, and would probably always stay that way, at least around Quenilda. Had he been a fool to reject the offer of marriage and ride away from Throxenby? Perhaps. On the other hand, however, if he'd stayed, he would always be wondering if she really liked him, or if she'd simply wedded him out of duty. This way, he could ask her to become his wife without that complication – if her father agreed, of course.
Marriage. Marriage to Quenilda. Guy found himself smiling in the darkness, just thinking about it, and tried to remind himself that there was still a chance that she, or her father, would turn him down. He'd misjudged people before, but this time, he'd do it right. He wouldn't rush in or otherwise make a fool of himself. He'd ask once, and then he'd accept the answer and form his plans accordingly.
When morning came, Guy discovered he had slept too late to catch the Earl before breakfast. Not wanting to broach the subject over the meal where everybody could hear, Guy listened instead to the Sheriff's plans of inspecting the dragon's carcase and the remains of the village of Locksley. It was still raining, and yet everybody seemed eager to ride out and have a look. Almost everybody, that was. Down in the courtyard, humiliated by the fact that he had to beg both a sword and a horse from the Sheriff, Guy glanced around for Quenilda, hoping to see her smile or give him some other kind of encouragement, but she wasn't there.
Concerned, he guided his horse over to the Earl, and asked, "My lord, is Lady Quenilda well?"
"Quite well, Sir Guy. Why do you ask?" the Earl replied, but then he smiled and answered his own question. "You're wondering why she isn't riding out with us? She's already seen the dragon, and she wants to take a bath."
"Oh," Guy said, trying not to show his disappointment too obviously. "Of course, my lord."
Then the Sheriff came up on the Earl's other side and called for them to set out. Although Guy had hoped to catch the Earl on his own at some point during the ride, the Sheriff remained where he was the entire time. Sir Edmund had insinuated himself next to Lady Isolda, and Guy was left to choose between accompanying the Countess or falling back to ride alone. He chose the Countess and as they made polite, but stilted conversation, Guy realized that, unlike her daughter, she was rather shy. After a bit of thought, Guy complimented her on Quenilda, smiled as she smiled back, then let the conversation lapse. They rode on in more comfortable silence.
Sometime during the night, the rain had extinguished the fires, and the village was left half-burned. Guy hadn't expected to see anybody in the ruins, but there was a man drawing water from the well, and another prodding the charred remains of a house with his boot. As he and the other riders came closer, Guy was also afforded a view of a distinctly familiar covered wagon and a third man staring at the carcase of the dragon. Guy glanced back to the men near the well, close enough now to recognize them – and be recognized.
Drawing his sword, Guy gallopped forwards, shouting, "Guards! Arrest those men! Arrest them!"
The men had already started to run to the relative safety of the forest, leaving the wagon behind, but the guards, on horseback, were faster. They were also used to dealing with panicked, fleeing villagers, and swarmed out in one of their most-practised manoeuvers. Soon, they had surrounded each of the men, disarmed them and driven them back to where the Earl, the Sheriff, and the others had gathered next to the dragon.
Guy had gone after Osbert, and now he dismounted and jabbed his sword at Osbert's neck. The man flinched back, real fear in his eyes, and Guy smiled in cold pleasure.
"My lord, my lady," Guy said, addressing the Earl and the Countess in turn. "May I present, the men who kidnapped your daughter?"
The Earl dismounted as well, and came forward. Gently, he laid his hand on the blade of Guy's sword and gave it a slight push. Guy removed his sword from the man's neck, but kept it ready instead of sheathing it altogether.
"Osbert," the Earl said.
"We didn't hurt her!" the boy, Luke, protested, but the Earl silenced him with a look and turned back to Osbert. For several moments, they stared at each other without speaking, until the Earl finally asked, "Why?"
"I wouldn't have touched her if she hadn't come after Sir Guy," Osbert said. "And the boy's right, we didn't hurt her."
Under the Earl's stare, he added in a small voice, "We just kept her from running away to get help, that's all."
"And Sir Guy?" the Earl went on, his voice calm and patient.
Osbert's face changed then, turning red with anger. "My lord, he came too late! We'd all heard about the dreams, about the knight in black leather who'd kill the dragon, but he came too late! Why didn't he come earlier, why did Mathilda have to die?"
The Earl opened his mouth to speak, but Osbert went on. "You know what was worse, my lord? Worse than seeing my daughter die and your daughter live? It was finding out that it was Sir Guy of Gisborne who'd slain the dragon. Sir Guy of Gisborne, who lives here in Locksley, in this village and serves that Sheriff!"
Lived, Guy thought. Served. Not anymore. He glanced over to the Sheriff to see the man's reaction, but the Sheriff merely looked as bored as though he were at the Council of Nobles.
"Why was that worse?" the Earl asked.
"Because he was lord of the manor here when my sister died – the mother of my nephew, Luke! She starved to death in front of her sons, her family, because of them – Sir Guy of Gisborne and the Sheriff of Nottingham. And then her husband, Luke's father, got killed, too, because of them! That's what was worse! He leaves death and misery behind him everywhere he goes, and when he finally does something halfway decent, he rescues your daughter and not mine! Do you think I could resist when I heard about the reward that Robin Hood was offering? Do you think I could just stand aside and not try to avenge what he'd done? I thought it must be a sign, an opportunity sent straight from heaven when Sir Guy of Gisborne left Throxenby on his own, instead of staying where it was safe and getting married."
"And you would have got away with it, too, if it hadn't been for that pesky girl chasing after Gisborne," the Sheriff put in smoothly, untouched by the man's harangue. "I simply can't imagine what she sees in you, Guy."
Guy didn't know, either, but he hoped that perhaps one day soon he could convince Quenilda to tell him what it was.
"I have also heard of Sir Guy's reputation," the Earl said. "But I know that people can change. I've seen it many times in my life. Unfortunately, most of them change for the worse. Grief can make a man bitter and reckless, for instance. So can greed." He paused and looked hard at Osbert. "Oh, yes, my daughter told me what you said, how I'd never offered you anything in exchange for Mathilda, and so you weren't going to let the chance of those fifty pounds pass you by. But I think you would have wanted that money even if Mathilda hadn't been chosen."
Osbert sneered silently.
"You were a decent man when I first knew you, but now you've changed for the worse," the Earl went on. "Was it grief, greed, or a combination of both? I don't know. But I do know that some people, when they change, manage to change for the better. I believe – I hope – we're witnessing a miracle of this kind in Sir Guy and it was this miracle that spurred my daughter to her … unexpected behaviour."
"Miracle!" Osbert hawked and spat at Guy's feet. Despite the warm feeling that welled up in him at the Earl's words, Guy jabbed his sword in the direction of the man's neck, just close enough to be threatening. The Earl, however, made a gesture meant to stop any more aggressive movements. "Osbert, thank you for explaining your reasons."
As Osbert accepted his gratitude with a grimace of disbelief and scorn, the Earl went on. "However, the fact remains, you've deliberately hurt a member of my family, all of you. And all of you will receive double the same hurt in return. Sir Guy, would you help me tie them up?"
"With pleasure," Guy growled. He crossed over to the wagon and said, "There should be some rope in here."
There was, although most of it was tangled in knots or cut into inconvenient lengths. As Guy was sorting out what they needed, Luke asked the Earl, "What are you going to do to us?"
"Just keep you from running away to get help," Guy mocked, letting go of the ropes and slamming his fist into the young man's face. Luke staggered, but managed to remain upright, and from the circle of onlookers, Guy heard a distinctly feminine gasp. Thinking for one single moment that it was Quenilda, Guy glanced up to see Isolda instead, regarding the scene with horror. Guy suddenly realized that, if he married Quenilda, Isolda would be his sister, too, and his present actions were only reinforcing every negative opinion that she'd ever had of him. Although the temptation was great, Guy did not strike Luke a second time.
"As I said, you'll receive double whatever you did to my daughter," the Earl reiterated.
"We never hurt her!" Luke protested, putting a hand to his face. "Not like that!"
"Then you'll only remained tied up for twice as long as you kept her," the Earl said.
Guy bound all the men hand and foot in exactly the way he himself had been tied, and when he'd finished with the last knots, he straightened up and asked, "Shall I put them in the back of the wagon, then?"
"If that's where they kept Quenilda, then, yes," the Earl said. "What about the poppy juice?"
Guy searched the wagon for the tiny bottle. It was suspiciously light, and he shook it, then peered inside. "My lord, it's empty."
The keg of ale which Quenilda had doctored with her own supply of poppy juice was empty, too, and the Earl said. "Well. They'll just have to remain awake all day, then."
"You'll want to post a guard to make sure they don't try to escape," Guy said, and the Earl nodded, then chose one from his own retinue. The guard received the Earl's instructions with a nod and an expression on his face that promised both intelligence and competence. He then helped Guy transport the men from the muddy ground to the floorboards of the wagon, and then, without asking, he took over the duty of driving the wagon back to Nottingham. Comparing the man favourably to the Sheriff's dullards, glad he wouldn't be working with them again, Guy took the reins of his horse to lead it behind his own.
When they arrived in the courtyard of the castle, the Earl ordered the wagon to be placed over to one side where the guard would have some protection from the elements.
"Are you sure you don't want to borrow my dungeons?" the Sheriff offered with a suggestive smile. "Much less comfortable, if you know what I mean."
"Thank you, but the punishment should fit the crime," the Earl replied. "Anyway, why bother to shift them when we'd only have to put them back again in the morning?"
Guy looked sharply at the Earl, but it was the Sheriff who asked, "In the morning?"
"We've enjoyed your hospitality and your help in finding my daughter, but now that she's been returned, there's no need for us to linger," the Earl explained.
The Sheriff pouted just a little. "I thought you'd stay longer, perhaps join me in a hunt? There's plenty of game in the forest … outlaws and such."
"Hunting's never been the sport for me," the Earl said, smiling diplomatically. "And alas, I have duties that I must attend to."
"Put them off a day or two," the Sheriff suggested, and glanced sideways at Guy. "That's the thing about duties – unlike people, they never run away. They never disappear and then come back when they're least expected and least wanted."
"No, that's exactly the problem, they don't," the Earl said. "They just get bigger and more complicated if you don't take care of them promptly. And speaking of duties, what do you think we ought to do with that dragon corpse? If we were closer to the ocean, I'd want to put it on a ship, sail it out beyond the sight of land, and bury it in the depths of the sea."
"If only you'd thought of doing that with the first dragon, hmmm?" the Sheriff asked, but the Earl refused to take the insult and simply agreed with him. "Yes. Well. As it is, I'd suggest burying this one very deep."
"And covering the grave with great stones," the Sheriff added, nodding. "In case anything nasty wants to come crawling back again, the way nasty things do." He looked around, saw Guy, then glanced deliberately beyond him. "Edmund, the peasants of Locksley obviously have nothing better to do than hang around here. Round them up and set them to work!"
"Right away, my lord," Sir Edmund replied, getting back up onto his horse. Guy watched him go, then glanced back to the Sheriff and caught a quick, triumphant look in his direction. Once, Guy would have felt uncertain, insulted, even threatened by the Sheriff's remarks and behaviour, but now he simply didn't care. He had other things to worry about. Lifting his nose slightly and looking down it at the shorter man, Guy turned and sauntered up the stairs into the castle.
Part 13