Threats More Subtle Than Swords, Part 2
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"Oh, and by the way, Gisborne," the Sheriff said at breakfast a few days later. "I haven't seen your lady love since yesterday. Go make sure she hasn't run away to another abbey, will you?"
Guy turned and strode out of the great hall without answering, but not before he'd caught a glimpse of the expression on the Sheriff's face. Vasey enjoyed teasing Guy about his unrequited love, and although Guy could often ignore it, sometimes he couldn't help but take the bait. He realized too late that he'd just afforded the Sheriff another chance to smirk at him, and his disgust at himself made him pound more loudly on Marian's door than he'd intended.
"Come in," Marian wheezed, and as Guy opened the door, he heard a cough. Marian was still in bed and as he entered, she coughed again.
"Marian, you're ill!" he exclaimed. He rushed to her side and removed his leather glove to place his hand on her forehead. "You're burning up!"
"No, I'm cold," she whispered. "Guy, could you get me another blanket? And build up the fire?"
Despite the heat radiating off her head, she was indeed shivering. Guy straightened up and went to the fire to add another log, then dashed out into the hall to waylay the next servant and order her to fetch a blanket. When he returned, Marian was lying quietly with her eyes shut, and Guy feared for a moment that he was too late. But then she coughed, and he sighed with relief.
"You went to that seamstress in Nettlestone, didn't you?" he barked. "Even though she was sick. Even though I warned you not to!"
"I went because she was sick!" Marian exclaimed, but broke off to cough again.
Guy felt his heart sink even though he didn't completely understand. "What?"
"I went because I could help her," Marian explained.
The servant came in just then, unfolded the blanket, and stretched it over the bed, tucking it in around Marian's face. "I hope you feel better soon, my lady," she said.
"Thank you," Marian said, giving her a ghost of a smile.
"Get out," Guy snarled, irritated at the interruption, then thought of something. "And bring Lady Marian some broth."
"Yes, sir," the girl mumbled, ducking away.
When she was gone, Guy picked up the conversation again. "Why did you go to that seamstress?"
"I could help her," Marian said again, stopping to cough. "Her daughter was sick, too, but she came to the castle anyway, because they needed to eat. I took them some food and some money so that Elewisa could stay home and rest."
"Elewisa?" Guy asked. "That stable lass that Allan's always hanging around with?" He vaguely remembered the girl from the day the Sheriff had gone missing; she'd given them the information that the Sheriff had left the castle in his sleep and she'd opened the doors for him. He'd hardly seen her since; he had the feeling that she fled whenever he came along, as though she were scared of him. Well, she should be! If she hadn't let the Sheriff out, they would have found him much earlier, and Nottingham would never have been threatened by Prince John's army!
Marian coughed, tearing him away from his thoughts. "Guy … ?"
"Yes," he said, his heart melting at her plaintive tone.
"I want my father."
Guy knelt down at the side of the bed and smoothed Marian's hair away from her face. "Marian, your father's dead."
"I know," she said, biting her lip. "But I still want him." A tear formed in the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek as she reached out from under the covers to take his hand. Her skin was hot and dry. He gripped her fingers tightly in what he hoped was reassurance, and used his other thumb to wipe the tear away.
"You'll feel better soon," he told her, hoping it was true. Hope was all he could do. He hated sickness, hated how helpless he was in the face of it. He couldn't fight sickness with a sword or bully it into submission, he could only accept its arrival, wish for its speedy departure, and hope it didn't leave too much devastation behind.
When the servant arrived with the broth, Guy left the room. He hadn't gotten very far when Allan came up. Guy was secretly proud of Allan, or rather, proud of the fact that the man worked for him now. He'd once been one of Robin Hood's inner circle of outlaws, until Guy had bribed him away. It had been so easy.
"Guy, there you are. The Sheriff wants to see you."
Guy ignored the summons. "Go find the physician and bring him to Marian."
"Marian's sick?" Allan looked alarmed.
"Go!" Guy roared, giving Allan a push. Allan staggered, then caught his balance and jogged off, looking back once in concern. Guy glared after him and only when the man had disappeared around a corner did Guy turn and walk to where the Sheriff was sitting in the great hall.
"Ah, Guy," the Sheriff said, referring to a piece of parchment. "I've just had word from the Earl of Durham. It seems he's quite cut up about losing that girl Beatrice. I thought we might want to lift his spirits by offering him Marian."
Gritting his teeth in anger that the Sheriff should suggest such a thing even as a joke, Guy spit out, "Marian is ill, my lord."
"Ill? Really? What has she got, the Turk flu?" The Sheriff grinned.
"I do not know, my lord," Guy was forced to admit. "I have sent for the physician. He can tell us more when he's examined her."
"I hope she's not going to die," the Sheriff said. "You'll be no use to me if you're mourning and moping around the castle."
"She won't die," Guy stated firmly. And when Marian had recovered, Guy thought, he was going to have stern words with her about visiting the sick. If she had to give in to her softhearted, charitable instincts, she could do it from a distance.
"Good. Now, back to the Earl –"
Before the Sheriff could finish, however, there was a commotion at the top of the stairs, and Guy clearly heard a woman's sharp command. "You let me through! This is the business of the Sheriff!"
He glanced over to the Sheriff, who was staring up with equal amounts of consternation and disbelief in his expression. Guy turned around to see a woman marching determinedly down the stairs, a girl of about fourteen in a dress of rich blue following shyly.
"My lord Sheriff," the woman said, reaching behind her to grip the girl's arm and pull her forward.
"It's … Lady … Maude?" the Sheriff asked blithely. "Matilda? Alys? No, don't tell me. Philippa!"
The woman pursed her lips. If she'd been a man, Guy thought she might have swung something at the Sheriff. "Lady Prospera of Doncaster, as you well know!"
"Prospera, of course, how are you? Long time no see. And speaking of seeing, I recognize your lovely offspring …"
"Your lovely offspring," Lady Prospera corrected him, and Guy felt a jolt of surprise.
"What?" the Sheriff asked flatly, obviously blindsided.
"Your daughter. Laurencia. Say hello to your father, Laurencia."
Without looking up from the floor, Laurencia curtsied and mumured, "My lord. Father."
"We're on our way to an abbey near Leicester, and I thought we'd stop in and say hello," Lady Prospera said. "Since we have to stop for the night somewhere."
As it was midmorning, Guy began to think that Lady Prospera and her daughter had another reason for coming to Nottingham.
"I see," the Sheriff said slowly. Lady Prospera left her daughter where she was and approached the Sheriff's chair, swaggering just a little.
"How about a kiss, for old times' sake?" she asked throatily. Guy couldn't help staring, wondering if the Sheriff would actually touch his lips to hers, after all his many lectures about treating women as lepers. At the last moment, the Sheriff stepped away and called, "Gisborne! Find a room for Lady Prospera and her, er, offspring."
"You can just take our things to the Sheriff's chambers, Gisborne," Lady Prospera announced, giving the Sheriff a seductive smile and moving in his direction. "We've shared a bed before, I certainly wouldn't mind doing it again."
Guy glanced at the Sheriff in amazement, then at Laurencia, who was blushing bright red. She'd been staring at him, but looked quickly away as soon as she saw his eyes moving in her direction. He thought he saw a little bit of the Sheriff in her face just then, and glanced back to the original.
"At least I know now not to expect him to keep his promises," Lady Prospera went on in a more cutting tone of voice, and threw the Sheriff a hard look. Guy watched as the Sheriff actually squirmed for a moment before moving away from Lady Prospera yet again and clarifying, "A room in the Trip inn, perhaps."
"An inn?" Lady Prospera wrinkled her nose. "If you won't have us under your roof, Vasey, then I'd rather pay Robin Hood to let us sleep in his forest! And maybe he'll be more interested in my … charming conversation."
"It is not Robin Hood's forest!" the Sheriff bellowed. The merest mention of Hood's name was enough to incense him instantly. "And you do not pay him anything! Ever!"
Lady Prospera sighed dramatically. "Then it will have to be a room here, I suppose. No doubt you'll find us one that reflects your hospitality, Vasey – cold, distant, and empty."
"Exactly," the Sheriff said, adept at twisting such insults into a parody of praise. He had turned away to the windows of the hall and did not see the quick look of triumph on Lady Propera's face which Guy did. "Find such a room, Gisborne."
After Guy had done so, he stopped by Marian's room again. She was asleep and breathing noisily. The room was uncomfortably warm, and Guy resisted the temptation to put the fire out and take away the waxed linen hangings that the servants had draped over the windows. Instead, he stood for a moment at the side of the bed, looking at Marian's fever-flushed face, and then he left.
Just as he was closing the door, he saw the Sheriff coming down the corridor.
"Well?" he asked. "Is she still alive?"
"She's asleep," Guy said, blocking the door with his body but trying to make it look casual.
"Let's have a look." The Sheriff stared pointedly at him until he stepped aside and reached for the door handle to let him in. As Guy had done before, the Sheriff stood at the side of the bed, but this time Marian stirred and coughed. The Sheriff jumped back as though threatened by an arrow, then left the room quickly.
"This is not good, Gisborne," he stated. "We can't offer her to the Earl of Durham like this. He'll think I'm trying to infect him with the plague!"
"My lord," Guy said, trying very hard not to lose his temper. "You cannot offer him Marian."
"Oh, but I can, Gisborne," the Sheriff replied silkily, pacing up the corridor with his back to Guy. "We need his support, he wants a wife, and Marian is the only marriageable female in my sphere of influence—"
He cut off sharply and called out, "Who's sneaking around behind that corner?"
There was a pause, and then Laurencia came out, her eyes directed firmly at the floor. She curtsied and murmured, "It's just me, my lord. Father."
"I don't like it when people sneak around in my castle," the Sheriff said sternly. "It makes me think they're up to something. Are you up to something, Laurencia?"
"No, my lord," she replied, lifting her eyes for a single moment to glance at Guy, then looking down again. "Father. I was just admiring this … castle. How well built it is."
"Really," the Sheriff replied, looking over at Guy. "Is it better than in Doncaster?"
"Anywhere is better than Doncaster, my l—father."
The Sheriff smiled his false smile. "I'm sure it is. Run along now and admire the rest of it somewhere else, will you?"
As Laurencia curtsied and went back the way she'd come, Guy made his escape in the opposite direction, hoping that the Sheriff had seen the same thing he had.
Part 3
"Oh, and by the way, Gisborne," the Sheriff said at breakfast a few days later. "I haven't seen your lady love since yesterday. Go make sure she hasn't run away to another abbey, will you?"
Guy turned and strode out of the great hall without answering, but not before he'd caught a glimpse of the expression on the Sheriff's face. Vasey enjoyed teasing Guy about his unrequited love, and although Guy could often ignore it, sometimes he couldn't help but take the bait. He realized too late that he'd just afforded the Sheriff another chance to smirk at him, and his disgust at himself made him pound more loudly on Marian's door than he'd intended.
"Come in," Marian wheezed, and as Guy opened the door, he heard a cough. Marian was still in bed and as he entered, she coughed again.
"Marian, you're ill!" he exclaimed. He rushed to her side and removed his leather glove to place his hand on her forehead. "You're burning up!"
"No, I'm cold," she whispered. "Guy, could you get me another blanket? And build up the fire?"
Despite the heat radiating off her head, she was indeed shivering. Guy straightened up and went to the fire to add another log, then dashed out into the hall to waylay the next servant and order her to fetch a blanket. When he returned, Marian was lying quietly with her eyes shut, and Guy feared for a moment that he was too late. But then she coughed, and he sighed with relief.
"You went to that seamstress in Nettlestone, didn't you?" he barked. "Even though she was sick. Even though I warned you not to!"
"I went because she was sick!" Marian exclaimed, but broke off to cough again.
Guy felt his heart sink even though he didn't completely understand. "What?"
"I went because I could help her," Marian explained.
The servant came in just then, unfolded the blanket, and stretched it over the bed, tucking it in around Marian's face. "I hope you feel better soon, my lady," she said.
"Thank you," Marian said, giving her a ghost of a smile.
"Get out," Guy snarled, irritated at the interruption, then thought of something. "And bring Lady Marian some broth."
"Yes, sir," the girl mumbled, ducking away.
When she was gone, Guy picked up the conversation again. "Why did you go to that seamstress?"
"I could help her," Marian said again, stopping to cough. "Her daughter was sick, too, but she came to the castle anyway, because they needed to eat. I took them some food and some money so that Elewisa could stay home and rest."
"Elewisa?" Guy asked. "That stable lass that Allan's always hanging around with?" He vaguely remembered the girl from the day the Sheriff had gone missing; she'd given them the information that the Sheriff had left the castle in his sleep and she'd opened the doors for him. He'd hardly seen her since; he had the feeling that she fled whenever he came along, as though she were scared of him. Well, she should be! If she hadn't let the Sheriff out, they would have found him much earlier, and Nottingham would never have been threatened by Prince John's army!
Marian coughed, tearing him away from his thoughts. "Guy … ?"
"Yes," he said, his heart melting at her plaintive tone.
"I want my father."
Guy knelt down at the side of the bed and smoothed Marian's hair away from her face. "Marian, your father's dead."
"I know," she said, biting her lip. "But I still want him." A tear formed in the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek as she reached out from under the covers to take his hand. Her skin was hot and dry. He gripped her fingers tightly in what he hoped was reassurance, and used his other thumb to wipe the tear away.
"You'll feel better soon," he told her, hoping it was true. Hope was all he could do. He hated sickness, hated how helpless he was in the face of it. He couldn't fight sickness with a sword or bully it into submission, he could only accept its arrival, wish for its speedy departure, and hope it didn't leave too much devastation behind.
When the servant arrived with the broth, Guy left the room. He hadn't gotten very far when Allan came up. Guy was secretly proud of Allan, or rather, proud of the fact that the man worked for him now. He'd once been one of Robin Hood's inner circle of outlaws, until Guy had bribed him away. It had been so easy.
"Guy, there you are. The Sheriff wants to see you."
Guy ignored the summons. "Go find the physician and bring him to Marian."
"Marian's sick?" Allan looked alarmed.
"Go!" Guy roared, giving Allan a push. Allan staggered, then caught his balance and jogged off, looking back once in concern. Guy glared after him and only when the man had disappeared around a corner did Guy turn and walk to where the Sheriff was sitting in the great hall.
"Ah, Guy," the Sheriff said, referring to a piece of parchment. "I've just had word from the Earl of Durham. It seems he's quite cut up about losing that girl Beatrice. I thought we might want to lift his spirits by offering him Marian."
Gritting his teeth in anger that the Sheriff should suggest such a thing even as a joke, Guy spit out, "Marian is ill, my lord."
"Ill? Really? What has she got, the Turk flu?" The Sheriff grinned.
"I do not know, my lord," Guy was forced to admit. "I have sent for the physician. He can tell us more when he's examined her."
"I hope she's not going to die," the Sheriff said. "You'll be no use to me if you're mourning and moping around the castle."
"She won't die," Guy stated firmly. And when Marian had recovered, Guy thought, he was going to have stern words with her about visiting the sick. If she had to give in to her softhearted, charitable instincts, she could do it from a distance.
"Good. Now, back to the Earl –"
Before the Sheriff could finish, however, there was a commotion at the top of the stairs, and Guy clearly heard a woman's sharp command. "You let me through! This is the business of the Sheriff!"
He glanced over to the Sheriff, who was staring up with equal amounts of consternation and disbelief in his expression. Guy turned around to see a woman marching determinedly down the stairs, a girl of about fourteen in a dress of rich blue following shyly.
"My lord Sheriff," the woman said, reaching behind her to grip the girl's arm and pull her forward.
"It's … Lady … Maude?" the Sheriff asked blithely. "Matilda? Alys? No, don't tell me. Philippa!"
The woman pursed her lips. If she'd been a man, Guy thought she might have swung something at the Sheriff. "Lady Prospera of Doncaster, as you well know!"
"Prospera, of course, how are you? Long time no see. And speaking of seeing, I recognize your lovely offspring …"
"Your lovely offspring," Lady Prospera corrected him, and Guy felt a jolt of surprise.
"What?" the Sheriff asked flatly, obviously blindsided.
"Your daughter. Laurencia. Say hello to your father, Laurencia."
Without looking up from the floor, Laurencia curtsied and mumured, "My lord. Father."
"We're on our way to an abbey near Leicester, and I thought we'd stop in and say hello," Lady Prospera said. "Since we have to stop for the night somewhere."
As it was midmorning, Guy began to think that Lady Prospera and her daughter had another reason for coming to Nottingham.
"I see," the Sheriff said slowly. Lady Prospera left her daughter where she was and approached the Sheriff's chair, swaggering just a little.
"How about a kiss, for old times' sake?" she asked throatily. Guy couldn't help staring, wondering if the Sheriff would actually touch his lips to hers, after all his many lectures about treating women as lepers. At the last moment, the Sheriff stepped away and called, "Gisborne! Find a room for Lady Prospera and her, er, offspring."
"You can just take our things to the Sheriff's chambers, Gisborne," Lady Prospera announced, giving the Sheriff a seductive smile and moving in his direction. "We've shared a bed before, I certainly wouldn't mind doing it again."
Guy glanced at the Sheriff in amazement, then at Laurencia, who was blushing bright red. She'd been staring at him, but looked quickly away as soon as she saw his eyes moving in her direction. He thought he saw a little bit of the Sheriff in her face just then, and glanced back to the original.
"At least I know now not to expect him to keep his promises," Lady Prospera went on in a more cutting tone of voice, and threw the Sheriff a hard look. Guy watched as the Sheriff actually squirmed for a moment before moving away from Lady Prospera yet again and clarifying, "A room in the Trip inn, perhaps."
"An inn?" Lady Prospera wrinkled her nose. "If you won't have us under your roof, Vasey, then I'd rather pay Robin Hood to let us sleep in his forest! And maybe he'll be more interested in my … charming conversation."
"It is not Robin Hood's forest!" the Sheriff bellowed. The merest mention of Hood's name was enough to incense him instantly. "And you do not pay him anything! Ever!"
Lady Prospera sighed dramatically. "Then it will have to be a room here, I suppose. No doubt you'll find us one that reflects your hospitality, Vasey – cold, distant, and empty."
"Exactly," the Sheriff said, adept at twisting such insults into a parody of praise. He had turned away to the windows of the hall and did not see the quick look of triumph on Lady Propera's face which Guy did. "Find such a room, Gisborne."
After Guy had done so, he stopped by Marian's room again. She was asleep and breathing noisily. The room was uncomfortably warm, and Guy resisted the temptation to put the fire out and take away the waxed linen hangings that the servants had draped over the windows. Instead, he stood for a moment at the side of the bed, looking at Marian's fever-flushed face, and then he left.
Just as he was closing the door, he saw the Sheriff coming down the corridor.
"Well?" he asked. "Is she still alive?"
"She's asleep," Guy said, blocking the door with his body but trying to make it look casual.
"Let's have a look." The Sheriff stared pointedly at him until he stepped aside and reached for the door handle to let him in. As Guy had done before, the Sheriff stood at the side of the bed, but this time Marian stirred and coughed. The Sheriff jumped back as though threatened by an arrow, then left the room quickly.
"This is not good, Gisborne," he stated. "We can't offer her to the Earl of Durham like this. He'll think I'm trying to infect him with the plague!"
"My lord," Guy said, trying very hard not to lose his temper. "You cannot offer him Marian."
"Oh, but I can, Gisborne," the Sheriff replied silkily, pacing up the corridor with his back to Guy. "We need his support, he wants a wife, and Marian is the only marriageable female in my sphere of influence—"
He cut off sharply and called out, "Who's sneaking around behind that corner?"
There was a pause, and then Laurencia came out, her eyes directed firmly at the floor. She curtsied and murmured, "It's just me, my lord. Father."
"I don't like it when people sneak around in my castle," the Sheriff said sternly. "It makes me think they're up to something. Are you up to something, Laurencia?"
"No, my lord," she replied, lifting her eyes for a single moment to glance at Guy, then looking down again. "Father. I was just admiring this … castle. How well built it is."
"Really," the Sheriff replied, looking over at Guy. "Is it better than in Doncaster?"
"Anywhere is better than Doncaster, my l—father."
The Sheriff smiled his false smile. "I'm sure it is. Run along now and admire the rest of it somewhere else, will you?"
As Laurencia curtsied and went back the way she'd come, Guy made his escape in the opposite direction, hoping that the Sheriff had seen the same thing he had.
Part 3