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Lion's Heart 1/4 Guy/Robin
Title: Lion’s Heart (1/4)
Pairing: Robin/Guy, Marian/Guy
Rating: R (NC-17?)
Warnings: One instance of averted non-con (Robin/OMC), swearing
Summary: Set an indeterminate time after “Tattoo, what tattoo?” Because there just isn’t enough Robin/Guy fic in the world. Robin steals a bath. Guy steals the moral high ground. The Sheriff reads minds.
I really couldn't think of a decent title, but it's meaning is clearer in the next section. Hope you enjoy, criticism welcomed.
At some point recently, somewhere in England, Prince John had been in a foul mood. A letter indicating, in great depth, the particular quality of this mood had been sent to the Sheriff of Nottingham. Consequently the Sheriff had become somewhat less cheery than usual, and had tried to salvage some kind of enjoyment from his day by plaguing Guy of Gisborne. Of course, this was all because of Hood, who kept stealing the Prince’s damned taxes, and Hood was probably in a perfectly good mood, sunning himself in Sherwood’s early evening warmth. He was probably lounging around on a pile of leaves, licking his evening meal from his fingers, laughing at his own damned cleverness. Little bastard.
Guy was going to have a bath, and then he was going to see Marian, and make enquiries about the upcoming anniversary of her birth, and he was not, not, going to think about Robin Bloody Hood.
He had his hand pressed against the door of the bathing room, ready to push it open, when an odd scraping sound gave him reason to pause. He could hear voices, which was odd, as the servants knew to have his bath ready when he arrived home and they should have vacated the room by now. He was about to burst in and denounce their incompetence, when the strange urgency of the overheard words prompted him to press his ear against the door.
“Master, I can’t believe we’re doing this!”
Well, that didn’t sound like any of his servants. Was he being robbed?
“You can’t believe I’m walking into my own house?”
He recognised that voice.
“I can’t believe you’re breaking into a house that Gisborne is living in. In broad daylight.”
“Relax. These shutters have never closed fully, I’ll pry them open and we’ll be in and out like lightning.”
“What if someone’s having a bath!”
“I’d have heard them.”
There was a sudden clatter, and a noise like a body hitting the floor, rather unexpectedly.
“Ow. Come in Much.”
The cheek of it. The sheer damned cheek. He’d gone too far now.
“Look, bathwater! Hot clean bathwater!”
“That’s generally what you find in bathtubs.”
“Wh-what are you doing?!” Whatever Locksley was up to with Guy’s damned bath, it had made the other outlaw’s voice soar upwards in pitch.
“I’m having a bath Much, nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“This is why we came here? We are foolishly endangering our lives so you can bathe?”
“Of course not. We came here for evidence of Gisborne’s treason, but I can spare a few minutes to get all this filth off me. Sleeping on a forest floor for months, no hot water…I’m surprised you aren’t diving in the tub, all that time you spend whining about being full of dirt and creepy crawlies.”
Did he honestly think Guy was going to leave a signed confession lying around the house?
“Well! What if someone walks in then? Has it occurred to you this bath was run so someone could get in it? And I doubt it was you!”
“No-body will come Much.” There were splashing noises now, Locksley must have stripped off and lowered himself into the water. “I had the men sort a diversion.”
A diversion?
Before Guy could pursue that line of thought a loud cry of “FIRE!” rang out.
“You had them set your house on fire?!”
“Don’t be an idiot. I just had them shout fire. It’ll busy everyone for a while, they won’t hang around indoors.”
Guy made a barely muffled sound of outrage. In the silence that followed he became aware that perhaps it hadn’t been as muffled as it could have been.
“Much, out the window! NOW! Hide!” That was a tone of voice Guy hadn’t heard in England. It was a tone from the crusades, a tone that expected and demanded obedience, and Guy heard the servant clambering out the window. They weren’t getting away that easily.
“Locksley!” He bellowed opening the door.
“Gisborne.”
Oh Mary mother of Christ.
Hood was naked.
The man stood in the bath, unarmed, dripping wet and totally unclothed. It hadn’t occurred to Guy that Locksley stealing a bath would necessitate nudity, and he was momentarily incapable of action, staring blankly at Locksley’s slender form. By rights Hood should have looked embarrassed, or at least intimidated, but instead Guy thought he could see the faint hint of amusement at the edges of Locksley’s mouth.
“Locksley!” He tried again, thinking that bellowing the name might compel him to some kind of useful action, that he wouldn’t just stand there, staring at sun browned skin, at a scar he had made.
“Gisborne.” Locksley repeated, nodding, as if to an acquaintance met in the village.
“Get out of there, Locksley.”
“Can’t a man enjoy a bath in peace?”
Guy would never be as quick with words as Locksley could be, but he was quick enough with a blade, and he paced forward, point extended.
“Get out, or I’ll make you regret it.” He barked, but his gaze strayed as Locksley moved to step out of the tub. The man was graceful, carefully balanced as he hopped out with ease.
“You don’t want to.”
“What?”
“You don’t want to make me regret it. At least, not with that knife.” Locksley shifted as Guy moved closer, and was forced to tilt his head, to look upwards in order to challenge Guy. Gisborne refused to break eye contact, presuming that if he looked away this moment would vanish like a faerie glamour. Locksley showed no fear, but there was a quality of stillness about him that was new.
“I’m sure I can think of many ways to make you regret what you’ve done to me, before I hand you over to the Sheriff. And he’ll have his own kind of fun.” Fun Guy was unwilling to facilitate personally.
There, the outlaw twitched, just a little. Interesting.
“Scared of the Sheriff?” He knew they had had private exchanges, the Sheriff and the outlaw, and he wondered if the Sheriff’s…predilections had been impressed upon Locksley.
“Terrified.” Locksley said, with a bright grin. “But not of what he’ll do to me. Of what he’ll do to Nottingham.”
“Spare me the moral lecture, Earl of Huntingdon. When did you ever go cold or hungry before you followed the king to his idiot war?” Another twitch.
“I didn’t. But neither did a single man, woman or child on my estate. If my philosophy doesn’t move you, what about common sense? You are crushing these people! You cannot tax the dead!” More words, and really, Guy was sick to death of words, of Locksley’s moral tirades, of Marian’s distancing evasions and if he had to listen to the Sheriff soliloquise one more time he was going to vomit, right in the middle of a damned Council of Nobles.
He wouldn’t use words, but he could move the dagger toward Robin’s throat, thinking to hold him still and silent with it. But nothing with Hood would ever be that easy. The outlaw’s hands went round his wrist, they twisted, and suddenly he was fighting for possession of the weapon, incapable of directing its point.
“OUTLAW!” He yelled, finally thinking to summon aid, although with all that bellowing about a fire there was probably no one to respond.
He had forgotten that Hood, with all his high principles, would fight dirty. The man kicked him between the legs, and Gisborne fell gasping, onto abandoned clothes. Locksley had scooped up his weapons, and bow in hand his smile seemed to expand to fill the room. He grabbed at the muddy rags that Gisborne was flailing around on, but spitefully Guy clung on to them. If he couldn’t capture the bastard, he’d at least make him sprint through Sherwood naked. There was clattering in the hallway, so someone had the sense to realise there was no damned fire, and then Robin’s eyes met his before he bolted.
Usually, he dreamed of Marian. Of her smile, her manners, the strength that looked out through the trappings of her station and her sex. He dreamt of walking with her, of whispered confidences. Tame dreams, that somewhat embarrassed him. That night, he dreamt of Robin Hood.
Guy looked from the windows of Nottingham castle, staring in the direction of the forest. They dispossessed Locksley, and all he did was relocate, occupying other lands as if it was his right, and he would not be denied.
“Who are you mooning over Gisborne?”
The Sheriff was peering over his shoulder, and Guy was irritated that the man had got so close unnoticed.
“Well?”
“I was… I was thinking about Marian.”
“Liar.” What? Did the Sheriff read minds now?
“The lovely lady doesn’t distract you unless she’s batting her eyelashes in front of you.”
“Its nothing.” Guy tried to dismiss the man’s suspicions casually, but a hint of a snarl had crept into his voice, and he could see Vaisey’s attention narrow relentlessly.
“I have had interesting reports, Gisborne.”
“Yes my lord?” He tried to swing the conversation into the realm of deferential every-day business.
“Reports of Robin Hood fleeing your house without any clothes on.”
Oh. And really, Gisborne had no idea how to reply to that.
“Well? Where are the protestations, the denials? No outrage at being accused of consorting with the enemy? Really Guy, you become boring.”
He choked on nothing.
“Consorting?!”
“Oh yes, quite vigorously as well, I’ve been informed, if the way you were limping afterwards is any sign.”
“He kicked me! He broke into my house, started taking a bath, and then he kicked me!” Guy was actually raising his voice, to the Sheriff. This just wasn’t going to end well.
“Hmm. Remember what I said to you about women Guy? Well, it goes double for Hood. Unless you defy all precedent and actually do a proper job of catching him, then avoid him like the plague.”
The Sheriff vanished in a flurry of cloak, and had Guy been imagining it or had the man sounded a little…propriety when warning him off Hood?
For the rest of the day the Sheriff was merciful and did not deign to discuss any recent encounters with Hood. Instead, he was deep in discussion with Guy about the revenue from Locksley when a guardsman appeared at the door. He stood there, silently.
“Well?” The Sheriff asked when the man’s incessant shifting began to irritate him.
“My Lord, we have, well, we have received a message for Sir Guy.”
Gisborne held out his hand, and was a little nonplussed when the guardsman handed him an arrow.
“It was shot into the courtyard.”
“Of course it was! Get out! Well Gisborne?”
His name was written on the outside of the material curled around the arrow. He unravelled it.
Guy,
Since my return I have heard rumours of a band of former crusaders who have taken to roaming the country, pillaging wherever they go. Listening to travellers waylaid in Sherwood gives me reason to think that they are coming this way. They won’t trouble with the castle, which leaves Locksley in their path. They will come through Sherwood, so I will seek to dissuade them from their course. If I fail, defend the lands you have stolen from me. My best guess is that they will be here in two days.
This is not a trick. Do your duty.
Robin Hood
Earl of Sherwood
It was difficult not to laugh at the title he had appropriated. Next to the signature was a crude sketch of the symbol worn by Robin’s men.
“This is written on vellum! Where the devil did he get that?”
“My Lord, I request a force of men to temporarily garrison Locksley.”
“Fool, he’s baiting you. Two days from now is the party you are hosting for Marian’s birthday.”
Of course. Stupid really, to read the assertion “this is not a trick” and take an outlaw’s word seriously…but still.
“It would do no harm. After the events at the King’s birthday it would make sense to defend the house.”
“No, what it would do is convince the silly little mutt that he can make us chase our own tails whenever he wishes. If his ego gets any bigger, it won’t fit in the forest. He’s trying to make the castle less secure, you fool.”
“But crusaders-”
“Ah! Ah! Ah! Not another word! I refuse to believe you need some strapping guardsmen to defend you from a hoard of fictional peasants.”
He could only go so far when disagreeing the Sheriff, and one look at Vaisey’s face made him realise he had said more than enough.
“Very well.”
“Don’t you intend on wishing me well, Guy?” Marian stood before him, resplendent, and as always he felt dazed by her, his tongue disconnected from his thoughts. The chatter around him was irrelevant, she was the only person in the room.
“Marian. You are, I wish. This is-”
“TO ARMS!”
Oh, Gods. Please be a ridiculous outlaw prank. Guy ran for the door, hoping against hope to run up against Locksley’s men. Instead he saw the peasants of Locksley scattering, screaming in outrage as strangers strode into the village, at least twenty of them, grabbing at anything left lying around, breaking into doorways and reappearing with food. And in the midst of it, a giant of a man, laughing and laughing in a deep baritone, holding tight to a squirming figure flung over his shoulder.
“Robin!” A horrified voice cried out from behind him. Marian. She had followed him out of the door, toward danger.
As if summoned, the giant who had captured Robin of Locksley turned toward them.
“Get inside.” Guy ordered.
“Give me your dagger.” She countered.
“Inside Marian!”
Instead, she preformed an alarming manoeuvre with her dress, and an extremely thin blade appeared in her hand from somewhere in the fabric.
“They’ll be going inside anyway, it’s the only building that looks like there’s something of more value than food inside. My movement will be less restricted out here.” Her voice didn’t shake, her expression was focused. Her fire stirred something in him that he didn’t understand.
The big man and a rabble of his companions strode towards them. The tall man, clearly the leader, dumped his awkward bundle on the floor. Hood made a noise like he had been deflated, and then flopped around a little before getting his feet under him. Guy had time to spot that they had tied Hood’s hands, before the tall man gave Locksley an effortless clip round the ear that sent him sprawling back to the floor.
“Someone,” he gasped, “tell these idiots I’m not worth a ransom. I’m a SODDING OUTLAW.”
Guy locked eyes with the leader and said, “If you’re here for a ransom, you can keep him.”
The man looked merry, as if he presided over festivities as the Lord of Misrule. “An outlaw? Do we look stupid? We know the bloody hero of Acre when we see him. He’s Richard’s puppy, and the king doesn’t keep common lapdogs”.
It was true then. This wild rabble had been crusaders.
“Fine! I’m an Earl. I’m an Earl without any lands and without any money, and no one will pay any ransom for me.”
Gisborne considered.
“The Sheriff will. Call off your men, and take him to Nottingham. There’s a price on his head.”
“Nottingham! I just told you we aren’t stupid. I turn up there with him and we’ll be hung all together…so, he’s worthless then.”
“Yes. Do us all a favour and get rid of him.”
“What’s the lady worth to you?”
“Stay away from her!” Guy bellowed, and realised that Locksley had shouted much the same thing, scrambling back to his feet.
“Ah. A bit more than rabbit or venison then.”
Guy drove forwards with his sword, slicing down. The giant didn’t flinch, and calmly grabbed his arm mid swing. Guy tried to jerk away and found the grip unforgiving.
At that moment Locksley kicked the big man behind the knee, hard. He wobbled, but nothing else.
Damn.
“That all you’ve got, champions?” The big man laughed, and wrenched the sword away from him.
“Let go of my arm.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I reckon you’ll pay up for your own freedom too. Bring them!”
“What about the skinny one? Shall I kill him if he’s worthless?”
“Nah, I owe him a kicking. He might be entertaining.”
They bound Guy and prepared to drag him along. They approach Marian, and he was ready to abandon all pretence of dignity and start biting and clawing if they offered her any harm.
“You have no need to restrain me. I plan on coming peacefully.” The thin blade seemed to have vanished again.
The giant eyed her briefly. “Very well, but any tricks, and I break the outlaw’s neck. I saw your eye on him”. The man scooped Locksley over his shoulder again, and as he began to kick out in protest, rapped him sharply over the backside. “That’s enough! Any more and I drop you on your head and drag you through the forest by your heels.” Locksley ceased squirming. Really, was that all it took?
They moved into Sherwood.
Darkness fell before they were allowed to stop and they were bound, hands above their heads, to trees in the middle of a temporary camp. Guy could see Locksley, but could only hear Marian breathing quietly, somewhere behind and to the left.
“Where are your men Gisborne? You had warning.” Hissed Robin from his right.
“Where are yours? Earl of Sherwood.”
“My men will be the first to the rescue. Yours didn’t even notice you’d been captured last time.”
Guy snarled and pulled at his ropes, wondering if kicking loam at Locksley would cause Marian to consider him childish.
“So sure they’ll come for you? After you abandoned that Saracen girl? Called them simple?”
“Enough, the two of you! This is a situation that would benefit from your cooperation.”
“I don’t cooperate with traitors!”
“You are the damned traitor, running about and stirring up the peasants whilst the country falls down around your bloody ears!”
“This country will remain strong only as long as we care for those peasants!”
They had attracted attention. The giant man, whose name was apparently Watt, stood before them.
“Now, which of you can remember what I said would happen if you didn’t keep quiet?” They eyed him warily. “Well, I’m waiting for an answer. Lady?”
He moved out of sight, and must have been in front of Marian.
“I can’t quite recall.”
“Wrong answer”, the man growled, and there was some kind of movement, and Marian made a sound of distress and Guy wished desperately that it was her he could see, instead of Hood’s horrified face.
“Ah! I believe you said if you heard a sound from us you’d give someone a thrashing.”
“Very good, now, which one of you was making the racket?”
“I really wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, was it you then? Such a pity, you’re almost too pretty to damage. Almost.”
“Stop!”
“Get off her!” Yelled Hood. “I was the one shouting, she hasn’t said a word.” Of course, the outlaw had to be all noble and sacrificial. He bet Marian was looking thoroughly impressed. Watt wandered leisurely over to Hood “Well, you’re pretty enough yourself. Do I have to thrash you, or are you going to make it up to me?”
“I can’t make it up to you. I keep telling you I don’t have any money.”
“You have other…qualities.”
Guy watched as he saw that quality of stillness overtake Hood for the second time. The giant leaned in until they were on eye level, and breathing the same air.
“Well?”
“I’m giving you nothing. If you try and take anything, well, my men will find me and they will tear you to shreds.”
“You aren’t good for anything else, outlaw. I only wasted time carrying you because I thought you might be entertaining. You’re fit for a king right? And if we damage the girl, he might not pay up.” That was said with a nod in Guy’s direction.
Watt had a knife out now, and was starting to work on the front of Hood’s shirt. Guy was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to snap every one of his fingers. Marian shouldn’t have to see this.
“Now, if you’re very, very, nice to me, my friends might want you to be nice to them too. And then, if we like you enough, we might just let you go.”
Locksley kicked him in the crotch.
Watt doubled over and the outlaw gasped as the knife nicked his collarbone. By the campfire, Watt’s men were laughing. He straightened up, and the blank fury behind his eyes made Guy think of the Sheriff. He froze, even though that gaze wasn’t aimed at him.
“Aren’t you a clever little Lordling? Well, now I’m going to thrash you bloody, and then I’m going to fuck you bloody, and then I’m going to tear you to pieces with my bare hands.” He punched Locksley hard in the stomach, and whilst the outlaw slumped against the ropes, he unbuckled his belt.
He could hear Marian yanking at her bonds.
“STOP!” A voice roared, and Guy didn’t realise it was his, until everybody’s eyes were upon him. “I’ll reimburse you.”
“What?” The giant asked, which strangely was exactly what Guy was thinking.
“I’ll pay his ransom, and mine, and Marian’s but only on the condition that you don’t touch him.”
“What?” Hood asked, but everyone ignored him.
He could see greed warring with lust in the Watt’s eyes.
“He’s worth more to you in silver than he is unwilling and up against a tree.”
“True. Very well, agreed, but I’m gagging him.”
“Be my guest.”
Guy had begun to doze when the snapping of a twig woke him up. A slight figure drifted past him and busied itself at Locksley’s tree.
“You took your time! Undo Gisborne and Marian. Quickly.”
“You want to rescue Gisborne?”
“Right now, yes. Do it quickly before I change my mind.”
It was the Saracen girl, and when she loosened his bonds he followed her lead, creeping out of the clearing.
They walked for a while in silence, until they were obscured by trees and it was obvious that the villains had not noticed their escape. There was the flicker of torchlight up ahead. Locksley’s men? Perhaps he should run. But then he’d get turned around in this damned forest and starve to death waiting for anyone to decide it would be a good idea to send a rescue party after him. And he’d look a coward in front of Marian.
“Master, you’re alive!” That idiot manservant was pawing Locksley, apparently checking no damage had been done. “Master, you’re bleeding! Did they hurt you?”
“Not seriously. Mostly thanks to Gisborne.”
Everyone was staring at him, again.
“What! What’s he doing here? You aren’t going to go crazy again are you?” The servant asked, eyeing Locksley uncertainly.
“Stop being a fool Much. Tonight, we have a temporary truce. Allan, Will, scout ahead, make sure our path is clear. Much, John, you take the rear, if there’s any sign of pursuit then make as much racket as you can. Djaq, left flank. Much, my bow.” It was like seeing a player walk on stage. There Locksley stood, unbowed, calm command in his voice and totally free. Before he had been so easily subdued and manhandled. Perhaps it was the bow. Place it in his hands and somehow, he grew.
“I want a weapon.” He hadn’t meant to say that, what was wrong with him tonight?
“If we get overrun by the angry mob, Much will throw you a dagger. Otherwise, tough. I’m sure Marian will protect you.”
There was a small smile on her face and he felt as if he was missing a joke. Then Guy remembered her ready to face the oncoming men, dagger in hand, and he wanted to smile too. He didn’t.
“Where are you taking us?”
“To Knighton. I’m sure you can borrow a horse and find your own way back to Locksley from there.”
Hood was right. Guy hinted and hinted that Marian invite him in to spend what little remained of the night, but after a few awkward moments at the stable door all he got was a horse he would need to return in the morning. Nevertheless, there was a moment before she bade him goodnight where she paused, and looked him in the eyes. A sudden and glorious smile lit up her face, and Guy was shocked to realise that he had never before truly pleased her. This was the first real pleasure he had caused her, and all past smiles wrung from her countenance were extinguished by it.
“Thank you, Sir Guy.”
“For what, my lady?”
“For…for your behaviour tonight. For being honourable, even to an enemy, and helping someone who couldn’t help himself. I am proud to wear the ring you gave me”.
He was grinning, like a fool. He knew he was.
“Until tomorrow, Marian.” He leapt onto his horse, the weight of a long night falling away from him.
There was time enough on his journey home for some of Guy’s exuberance to wear away, and for fretful thoughts to begin to wear at the edges of his mind. There were still lunatic crusaders about. Perhaps he should ride to Nottingham instead…but he had his own lunatic peasants to worry about, and if he left them on the estate thinking he was dead Christ knows what they’d be doing by the time he got back. Burning him in effigy and celebrating his demise possibly. Some of the younger ones couldn’t remember a rule firmer than Locksley’s. When Guy had taken up residence there, in the beginning, they had the nerve to stare straight at him whilst he spoke or to just step up to him and initiate conversation. Anyone doing that to the Sheriff would probably loose both tongue and eyes. It had taken time and effort to break them of such habits, but they had been learning to respect him, until Locksley ruined everything, turning up and overturning everything he had worked for. They were looking back again, staring in silence, failing to move out of his way as quickly as they should. Even his food was turning up cold and he could see it in their eyes, that when they said “Master” they were thinking of another man.
“Gisborne!” The very man who was shouting him from the side of the path.
“Locksley.” How had the man outdistanced him, without a horse? What did he want? Another fight?
“I wanted to thank you.”
Well. That was unexpected.
Locksley was staring up at him, a defiant tilt to his head, as if his words of thanks were the first move in a complicated offensive.
“Thank me.”
“Yes. You didn’t have to do what you did, you didn’t have to…stop him.” There was a raw vulnerability coupled with an uncertain doubt in Locksley’s eyes. How did he survive in this world, with so much written on his face?
“You didn’t think I would.”
“Well. We are enemies.” The outlaw reached over his shoulder to rub his bow, perhaps needing the reassurance.
“So, if our situations were reversed, you wouldn’t have stopped him?”
“No! Of course I would! But I’m…”
“Honourable. Noble.” Guy paused. Was Hood blushing? Oh. “You expected me to enjoy it, to stand there and laugh.”
“I, no, I…” and when was Locksley ever ever lost for words?
“You think I’m a monster.” And there it was, Hood snapped back into his heroism, straightening up, becoming larger than his skinny frame.
“I’ve seen you act like one! The Sheriff would have stood there, and laughed and cheered him on, and the Sheriff is the man you serve.” But there it was again, that flicker of uncertainty. Guy was the unarmed man in this situation, but there was a heady sense of power he had never felt before. This must be what the moral high ground felt like. It was interesting.
“The Sheriff wouldn’t just have watched, he’d have asked for a turn. I am not the man I serve, Locksley. I hate you, but I only want to kill you.”
“I…I am in your debt, and I need to repay you.”
Guy simply laughed, and rode away, faster than Locksley could hope to run.
He overslept the next day, and the damned servants didn’t like him enough to stall Vaisey.
“Wakey wakey Gisborne! I hear you spent an exciting night.”
Oh God. He found it difficult enough to deal with Vaisey when he was wearing his familiar leathers and weapons, reassuring shields against Vaisey’s pervasive nature. He couldn’t carry a conversation half asleep and wearing insubstantial nightclothes.
“I could have used some help.”
“You’re being soft again Gisborne.” And the man just walked straight up to his bed and sat down as Guy squirmed up the mattress, trying not to look as if he were cowering under the blankets. Locksley’s bed. He thought, irrationally. The Sheriff’s eyes were moving over him, reading everything.
“You came back without a mark on you. Who did help you?”
“Robin Hood.”
“Now why would he do that?”
“He’s a fool.”
“You didn’t do him a good turn then?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because he’s just so pretty, and you become exceedingly stupid around pretty things.”
He wondered what Locksley would do if he ever heard Guy call him pretty. Probably shoot at him. Vaisey was still watching.
“What?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I offered to pay his ransom.”
“Because…”
“Watt, their leader, was going to… to beat him to death…for defending Marian! And I, well… she looked terrified and I couldn’t let her think I supported that kind of thing.” It was close to the truth, probably. He didn’t really know what the truth was. He was lying to the Sheriff. Again. Because of Hood.
“Oh for…Lepers! You do support that kind of thing, you are very supportive of the idea of beating Locksley to death, that’s why we are on the same side.”
“I’d rather just run him through with a sword.”
“Wonderful. Keep it simple Guy, you can manage simple.” Bastard. And as he thought the word the Sheriff stiffened and looked at him closely. He can read minds! Guy panicked, but then Vaisey got off the bed and went to the window instead.
“I’m sending troops out after those peasants. We need to clear the forest in order to send the taxes to London. I’d cut the whole thing down if I could, torch it, smoke out the vermin that hide there.” He would too, Guy realised. Incinerate those ancient trees, carve it out of the face of England as if it had never been, Locksley along with it.
He was going to start this day thinking of fire, and murder. That happened a lot.
Pairing: Robin/Guy, Marian/Guy
Rating: R (NC-17?)
Warnings: One instance of averted non-con (Robin/OMC), swearing
Summary: Set an indeterminate time after “Tattoo, what tattoo?” Because there just isn’t enough Robin/Guy fic in the world. Robin steals a bath. Guy steals the moral high ground. The Sheriff reads minds.
I really couldn't think of a decent title, but it's meaning is clearer in the next section. Hope you enjoy, criticism welcomed.
At some point recently, somewhere in England, Prince John had been in a foul mood. A letter indicating, in great depth, the particular quality of this mood had been sent to the Sheriff of Nottingham. Consequently the Sheriff had become somewhat less cheery than usual, and had tried to salvage some kind of enjoyment from his day by plaguing Guy of Gisborne. Of course, this was all because of Hood, who kept stealing the Prince’s damned taxes, and Hood was probably in a perfectly good mood, sunning himself in Sherwood’s early evening warmth. He was probably lounging around on a pile of leaves, licking his evening meal from his fingers, laughing at his own damned cleverness. Little bastard.
Guy was going to have a bath, and then he was going to see Marian, and make enquiries about the upcoming anniversary of her birth, and he was not, not, going to think about Robin Bloody Hood.
He had his hand pressed against the door of the bathing room, ready to push it open, when an odd scraping sound gave him reason to pause. He could hear voices, which was odd, as the servants knew to have his bath ready when he arrived home and they should have vacated the room by now. He was about to burst in and denounce their incompetence, when the strange urgency of the overheard words prompted him to press his ear against the door.
“Master, I can’t believe we’re doing this!”
Well, that didn’t sound like any of his servants. Was he being robbed?
“You can’t believe I’m walking into my own house?”
He recognised that voice.
“I can’t believe you’re breaking into a house that Gisborne is living in. In broad daylight.”
“Relax. These shutters have never closed fully, I’ll pry them open and we’ll be in and out like lightning.”
“What if someone’s having a bath!”
“I’d have heard them.”
There was a sudden clatter, and a noise like a body hitting the floor, rather unexpectedly.
“Ow. Come in Much.”
The cheek of it. The sheer damned cheek. He’d gone too far now.
“Look, bathwater! Hot clean bathwater!”
“That’s generally what you find in bathtubs.”
“Wh-what are you doing?!” Whatever Locksley was up to with Guy’s damned bath, it had made the other outlaw’s voice soar upwards in pitch.
“I’m having a bath Much, nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“This is why we came here? We are foolishly endangering our lives so you can bathe?”
“Of course not. We came here for evidence of Gisborne’s treason, but I can spare a few minutes to get all this filth off me. Sleeping on a forest floor for months, no hot water…I’m surprised you aren’t diving in the tub, all that time you spend whining about being full of dirt and creepy crawlies.”
Did he honestly think Guy was going to leave a signed confession lying around the house?
“Well! What if someone walks in then? Has it occurred to you this bath was run so someone could get in it? And I doubt it was you!”
“No-body will come Much.” There were splashing noises now, Locksley must have stripped off and lowered himself into the water. “I had the men sort a diversion.”
A diversion?
Before Guy could pursue that line of thought a loud cry of “FIRE!” rang out.
“You had them set your house on fire?!”
“Don’t be an idiot. I just had them shout fire. It’ll busy everyone for a while, they won’t hang around indoors.”
Guy made a barely muffled sound of outrage. In the silence that followed he became aware that perhaps it hadn’t been as muffled as it could have been.
“Much, out the window! NOW! Hide!” That was a tone of voice Guy hadn’t heard in England. It was a tone from the crusades, a tone that expected and demanded obedience, and Guy heard the servant clambering out the window. They weren’t getting away that easily.
“Locksley!” He bellowed opening the door.
“Gisborne.”
Oh Mary mother of Christ.
Hood was naked.
The man stood in the bath, unarmed, dripping wet and totally unclothed. It hadn’t occurred to Guy that Locksley stealing a bath would necessitate nudity, and he was momentarily incapable of action, staring blankly at Locksley’s slender form. By rights Hood should have looked embarrassed, or at least intimidated, but instead Guy thought he could see the faint hint of amusement at the edges of Locksley’s mouth.
“Locksley!” He tried again, thinking that bellowing the name might compel him to some kind of useful action, that he wouldn’t just stand there, staring at sun browned skin, at a scar he had made.
“Gisborne.” Locksley repeated, nodding, as if to an acquaintance met in the village.
“Get out of there, Locksley.”
“Can’t a man enjoy a bath in peace?”
Guy would never be as quick with words as Locksley could be, but he was quick enough with a blade, and he paced forward, point extended.
“Get out, or I’ll make you regret it.” He barked, but his gaze strayed as Locksley moved to step out of the tub. The man was graceful, carefully balanced as he hopped out with ease.
“You don’t want to.”
“What?”
“You don’t want to make me regret it. At least, not with that knife.” Locksley shifted as Guy moved closer, and was forced to tilt his head, to look upwards in order to challenge Guy. Gisborne refused to break eye contact, presuming that if he looked away this moment would vanish like a faerie glamour. Locksley showed no fear, but there was a quality of stillness about him that was new.
“I’m sure I can think of many ways to make you regret what you’ve done to me, before I hand you over to the Sheriff. And he’ll have his own kind of fun.” Fun Guy was unwilling to facilitate personally.
There, the outlaw twitched, just a little. Interesting.
“Scared of the Sheriff?” He knew they had had private exchanges, the Sheriff and the outlaw, and he wondered if the Sheriff’s…predilections had been impressed upon Locksley.
“Terrified.” Locksley said, with a bright grin. “But not of what he’ll do to me. Of what he’ll do to Nottingham.”
“Spare me the moral lecture, Earl of Huntingdon. When did you ever go cold or hungry before you followed the king to his idiot war?” Another twitch.
“I didn’t. But neither did a single man, woman or child on my estate. If my philosophy doesn’t move you, what about common sense? You are crushing these people! You cannot tax the dead!” More words, and really, Guy was sick to death of words, of Locksley’s moral tirades, of Marian’s distancing evasions and if he had to listen to the Sheriff soliloquise one more time he was going to vomit, right in the middle of a damned Council of Nobles.
He wouldn’t use words, but he could move the dagger toward Robin’s throat, thinking to hold him still and silent with it. But nothing with Hood would ever be that easy. The outlaw’s hands went round his wrist, they twisted, and suddenly he was fighting for possession of the weapon, incapable of directing its point.
“OUTLAW!” He yelled, finally thinking to summon aid, although with all that bellowing about a fire there was probably no one to respond.
He had forgotten that Hood, with all his high principles, would fight dirty. The man kicked him between the legs, and Gisborne fell gasping, onto abandoned clothes. Locksley had scooped up his weapons, and bow in hand his smile seemed to expand to fill the room. He grabbed at the muddy rags that Gisborne was flailing around on, but spitefully Guy clung on to them. If he couldn’t capture the bastard, he’d at least make him sprint through Sherwood naked. There was clattering in the hallway, so someone had the sense to realise there was no damned fire, and then Robin’s eyes met his before he bolted.
Usually, he dreamed of Marian. Of her smile, her manners, the strength that looked out through the trappings of her station and her sex. He dreamt of walking with her, of whispered confidences. Tame dreams, that somewhat embarrassed him. That night, he dreamt of Robin Hood.
Guy looked from the windows of Nottingham castle, staring in the direction of the forest. They dispossessed Locksley, and all he did was relocate, occupying other lands as if it was his right, and he would not be denied.
“Who are you mooning over Gisborne?”
The Sheriff was peering over his shoulder, and Guy was irritated that the man had got so close unnoticed.
“Well?”
“I was… I was thinking about Marian.”
“Liar.” What? Did the Sheriff read minds now?
“The lovely lady doesn’t distract you unless she’s batting her eyelashes in front of you.”
“Its nothing.” Guy tried to dismiss the man’s suspicions casually, but a hint of a snarl had crept into his voice, and he could see Vaisey’s attention narrow relentlessly.
“I have had interesting reports, Gisborne.”
“Yes my lord?” He tried to swing the conversation into the realm of deferential every-day business.
“Reports of Robin Hood fleeing your house without any clothes on.”
Oh. And really, Gisborne had no idea how to reply to that.
“Well? Where are the protestations, the denials? No outrage at being accused of consorting with the enemy? Really Guy, you become boring.”
He choked on nothing.
“Consorting?!”
“Oh yes, quite vigorously as well, I’ve been informed, if the way you were limping afterwards is any sign.”
“He kicked me! He broke into my house, started taking a bath, and then he kicked me!” Guy was actually raising his voice, to the Sheriff. This just wasn’t going to end well.
“Hmm. Remember what I said to you about women Guy? Well, it goes double for Hood. Unless you defy all precedent and actually do a proper job of catching him, then avoid him like the plague.”
The Sheriff vanished in a flurry of cloak, and had Guy been imagining it or had the man sounded a little…propriety when warning him off Hood?
For the rest of the day the Sheriff was merciful and did not deign to discuss any recent encounters with Hood. Instead, he was deep in discussion with Guy about the revenue from Locksley when a guardsman appeared at the door. He stood there, silently.
“Well?” The Sheriff asked when the man’s incessant shifting began to irritate him.
“My Lord, we have, well, we have received a message for Sir Guy.”
Gisborne held out his hand, and was a little nonplussed when the guardsman handed him an arrow.
“It was shot into the courtyard.”
“Of course it was! Get out! Well Gisborne?”
His name was written on the outside of the material curled around the arrow. He unravelled it.
Guy,
Since my return I have heard rumours of a band of former crusaders who have taken to roaming the country, pillaging wherever they go. Listening to travellers waylaid in Sherwood gives me reason to think that they are coming this way. They won’t trouble with the castle, which leaves Locksley in their path. They will come through Sherwood, so I will seek to dissuade them from their course. If I fail, defend the lands you have stolen from me. My best guess is that they will be here in two days.
This is not a trick. Do your duty.
Robin Hood
Earl of Sherwood
It was difficult not to laugh at the title he had appropriated. Next to the signature was a crude sketch of the symbol worn by Robin’s men.
“This is written on vellum! Where the devil did he get that?”
“My Lord, I request a force of men to temporarily garrison Locksley.”
“Fool, he’s baiting you. Two days from now is the party you are hosting for Marian’s birthday.”
Of course. Stupid really, to read the assertion “this is not a trick” and take an outlaw’s word seriously…but still.
“It would do no harm. After the events at the King’s birthday it would make sense to defend the house.”
“No, what it would do is convince the silly little mutt that he can make us chase our own tails whenever he wishes. If his ego gets any bigger, it won’t fit in the forest. He’s trying to make the castle less secure, you fool.”
“But crusaders-”
“Ah! Ah! Ah! Not another word! I refuse to believe you need some strapping guardsmen to defend you from a hoard of fictional peasants.”
He could only go so far when disagreeing the Sheriff, and one look at Vaisey’s face made him realise he had said more than enough.
“Very well.”
“Don’t you intend on wishing me well, Guy?” Marian stood before him, resplendent, and as always he felt dazed by her, his tongue disconnected from his thoughts. The chatter around him was irrelevant, she was the only person in the room.
“Marian. You are, I wish. This is-”
“TO ARMS!”
Oh, Gods. Please be a ridiculous outlaw prank. Guy ran for the door, hoping against hope to run up against Locksley’s men. Instead he saw the peasants of Locksley scattering, screaming in outrage as strangers strode into the village, at least twenty of them, grabbing at anything left lying around, breaking into doorways and reappearing with food. And in the midst of it, a giant of a man, laughing and laughing in a deep baritone, holding tight to a squirming figure flung over his shoulder.
“Robin!” A horrified voice cried out from behind him. Marian. She had followed him out of the door, toward danger.
As if summoned, the giant who had captured Robin of Locksley turned toward them.
“Get inside.” Guy ordered.
“Give me your dagger.” She countered.
“Inside Marian!”
Instead, she preformed an alarming manoeuvre with her dress, and an extremely thin blade appeared in her hand from somewhere in the fabric.
“They’ll be going inside anyway, it’s the only building that looks like there’s something of more value than food inside. My movement will be less restricted out here.” Her voice didn’t shake, her expression was focused. Her fire stirred something in him that he didn’t understand.
The big man and a rabble of his companions strode towards them. The tall man, clearly the leader, dumped his awkward bundle on the floor. Hood made a noise like he had been deflated, and then flopped around a little before getting his feet under him. Guy had time to spot that they had tied Hood’s hands, before the tall man gave Locksley an effortless clip round the ear that sent him sprawling back to the floor.
“Someone,” he gasped, “tell these idiots I’m not worth a ransom. I’m a SODDING OUTLAW.”
Guy locked eyes with the leader and said, “If you’re here for a ransom, you can keep him.”
The man looked merry, as if he presided over festivities as the Lord of Misrule. “An outlaw? Do we look stupid? We know the bloody hero of Acre when we see him. He’s Richard’s puppy, and the king doesn’t keep common lapdogs”.
It was true then. This wild rabble had been crusaders.
“Fine! I’m an Earl. I’m an Earl without any lands and without any money, and no one will pay any ransom for me.”
Gisborne considered.
“The Sheriff will. Call off your men, and take him to Nottingham. There’s a price on his head.”
“Nottingham! I just told you we aren’t stupid. I turn up there with him and we’ll be hung all together…so, he’s worthless then.”
“Yes. Do us all a favour and get rid of him.”
“What’s the lady worth to you?”
“Stay away from her!” Guy bellowed, and realised that Locksley had shouted much the same thing, scrambling back to his feet.
“Ah. A bit more than rabbit or venison then.”
Guy drove forwards with his sword, slicing down. The giant didn’t flinch, and calmly grabbed his arm mid swing. Guy tried to jerk away and found the grip unforgiving.
At that moment Locksley kicked the big man behind the knee, hard. He wobbled, but nothing else.
Damn.
“That all you’ve got, champions?” The big man laughed, and wrenched the sword away from him.
“Let go of my arm.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I reckon you’ll pay up for your own freedom too. Bring them!”
“What about the skinny one? Shall I kill him if he’s worthless?”
“Nah, I owe him a kicking. He might be entertaining.”
They bound Guy and prepared to drag him along. They approach Marian, and he was ready to abandon all pretence of dignity and start biting and clawing if they offered her any harm.
“You have no need to restrain me. I plan on coming peacefully.” The thin blade seemed to have vanished again.
The giant eyed her briefly. “Very well, but any tricks, and I break the outlaw’s neck. I saw your eye on him”. The man scooped Locksley over his shoulder again, and as he began to kick out in protest, rapped him sharply over the backside. “That’s enough! Any more and I drop you on your head and drag you through the forest by your heels.” Locksley ceased squirming. Really, was that all it took?
They moved into Sherwood.
Darkness fell before they were allowed to stop and they were bound, hands above their heads, to trees in the middle of a temporary camp. Guy could see Locksley, but could only hear Marian breathing quietly, somewhere behind and to the left.
“Where are your men Gisborne? You had warning.” Hissed Robin from his right.
“Where are yours? Earl of Sherwood.”
“My men will be the first to the rescue. Yours didn’t even notice you’d been captured last time.”
Guy snarled and pulled at his ropes, wondering if kicking loam at Locksley would cause Marian to consider him childish.
“So sure they’ll come for you? After you abandoned that Saracen girl? Called them simple?”
“Enough, the two of you! This is a situation that would benefit from your cooperation.”
“I don’t cooperate with traitors!”
“You are the damned traitor, running about and stirring up the peasants whilst the country falls down around your bloody ears!”
“This country will remain strong only as long as we care for those peasants!”
They had attracted attention. The giant man, whose name was apparently Watt, stood before them.
“Now, which of you can remember what I said would happen if you didn’t keep quiet?” They eyed him warily. “Well, I’m waiting for an answer. Lady?”
He moved out of sight, and must have been in front of Marian.
“I can’t quite recall.”
“Wrong answer”, the man growled, and there was some kind of movement, and Marian made a sound of distress and Guy wished desperately that it was her he could see, instead of Hood’s horrified face.
“Ah! I believe you said if you heard a sound from us you’d give someone a thrashing.”
“Very good, now, which one of you was making the racket?”
“I really wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, was it you then? Such a pity, you’re almost too pretty to damage. Almost.”
“Stop!”
“Get off her!” Yelled Hood. “I was the one shouting, she hasn’t said a word.” Of course, the outlaw had to be all noble and sacrificial. He bet Marian was looking thoroughly impressed. Watt wandered leisurely over to Hood “Well, you’re pretty enough yourself. Do I have to thrash you, or are you going to make it up to me?”
“I can’t make it up to you. I keep telling you I don’t have any money.”
“You have other…qualities.”
Guy watched as he saw that quality of stillness overtake Hood for the second time. The giant leaned in until they were on eye level, and breathing the same air.
“Well?”
“I’m giving you nothing. If you try and take anything, well, my men will find me and they will tear you to shreds.”
“You aren’t good for anything else, outlaw. I only wasted time carrying you because I thought you might be entertaining. You’re fit for a king right? And if we damage the girl, he might not pay up.” That was said with a nod in Guy’s direction.
Watt had a knife out now, and was starting to work on the front of Hood’s shirt. Guy was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to snap every one of his fingers. Marian shouldn’t have to see this.
“Now, if you’re very, very, nice to me, my friends might want you to be nice to them too. And then, if we like you enough, we might just let you go.”
Locksley kicked him in the crotch.
Watt doubled over and the outlaw gasped as the knife nicked his collarbone. By the campfire, Watt’s men were laughing. He straightened up, and the blank fury behind his eyes made Guy think of the Sheriff. He froze, even though that gaze wasn’t aimed at him.
“Aren’t you a clever little Lordling? Well, now I’m going to thrash you bloody, and then I’m going to fuck you bloody, and then I’m going to tear you to pieces with my bare hands.” He punched Locksley hard in the stomach, and whilst the outlaw slumped against the ropes, he unbuckled his belt.
He could hear Marian yanking at her bonds.
“STOP!” A voice roared, and Guy didn’t realise it was his, until everybody’s eyes were upon him. “I’ll reimburse you.”
“What?” The giant asked, which strangely was exactly what Guy was thinking.
“I’ll pay his ransom, and mine, and Marian’s but only on the condition that you don’t touch him.”
“What?” Hood asked, but everyone ignored him.
He could see greed warring with lust in the Watt’s eyes.
“He’s worth more to you in silver than he is unwilling and up against a tree.”
“True. Very well, agreed, but I’m gagging him.”
“Be my guest.”
Guy had begun to doze when the snapping of a twig woke him up. A slight figure drifted past him and busied itself at Locksley’s tree.
“You took your time! Undo Gisborne and Marian. Quickly.”
“You want to rescue Gisborne?”
“Right now, yes. Do it quickly before I change my mind.”
It was the Saracen girl, and when she loosened his bonds he followed her lead, creeping out of the clearing.
They walked for a while in silence, until they were obscured by trees and it was obvious that the villains had not noticed their escape. There was the flicker of torchlight up ahead. Locksley’s men? Perhaps he should run. But then he’d get turned around in this damned forest and starve to death waiting for anyone to decide it would be a good idea to send a rescue party after him. And he’d look a coward in front of Marian.
“Master, you’re alive!” That idiot manservant was pawing Locksley, apparently checking no damage had been done. “Master, you’re bleeding! Did they hurt you?”
“Not seriously. Mostly thanks to Gisborne.”
Everyone was staring at him, again.
“What! What’s he doing here? You aren’t going to go crazy again are you?” The servant asked, eyeing Locksley uncertainly.
“Stop being a fool Much. Tonight, we have a temporary truce. Allan, Will, scout ahead, make sure our path is clear. Much, John, you take the rear, if there’s any sign of pursuit then make as much racket as you can. Djaq, left flank. Much, my bow.” It was like seeing a player walk on stage. There Locksley stood, unbowed, calm command in his voice and totally free. Before he had been so easily subdued and manhandled. Perhaps it was the bow. Place it in his hands and somehow, he grew.
“I want a weapon.” He hadn’t meant to say that, what was wrong with him tonight?
“If we get overrun by the angry mob, Much will throw you a dagger. Otherwise, tough. I’m sure Marian will protect you.”
There was a small smile on her face and he felt as if he was missing a joke. Then Guy remembered her ready to face the oncoming men, dagger in hand, and he wanted to smile too. He didn’t.
“Where are you taking us?”
“To Knighton. I’m sure you can borrow a horse and find your own way back to Locksley from there.”
Hood was right. Guy hinted and hinted that Marian invite him in to spend what little remained of the night, but after a few awkward moments at the stable door all he got was a horse he would need to return in the morning. Nevertheless, there was a moment before she bade him goodnight where she paused, and looked him in the eyes. A sudden and glorious smile lit up her face, and Guy was shocked to realise that he had never before truly pleased her. This was the first real pleasure he had caused her, and all past smiles wrung from her countenance were extinguished by it.
“Thank you, Sir Guy.”
“For what, my lady?”
“For…for your behaviour tonight. For being honourable, even to an enemy, and helping someone who couldn’t help himself. I am proud to wear the ring you gave me”.
He was grinning, like a fool. He knew he was.
“Until tomorrow, Marian.” He leapt onto his horse, the weight of a long night falling away from him.
There was time enough on his journey home for some of Guy’s exuberance to wear away, and for fretful thoughts to begin to wear at the edges of his mind. There were still lunatic crusaders about. Perhaps he should ride to Nottingham instead…but he had his own lunatic peasants to worry about, and if he left them on the estate thinking he was dead Christ knows what they’d be doing by the time he got back. Burning him in effigy and celebrating his demise possibly. Some of the younger ones couldn’t remember a rule firmer than Locksley’s. When Guy had taken up residence there, in the beginning, they had the nerve to stare straight at him whilst he spoke or to just step up to him and initiate conversation. Anyone doing that to the Sheriff would probably loose both tongue and eyes. It had taken time and effort to break them of such habits, but they had been learning to respect him, until Locksley ruined everything, turning up and overturning everything he had worked for. They were looking back again, staring in silence, failing to move out of his way as quickly as they should. Even his food was turning up cold and he could see it in their eyes, that when they said “Master” they were thinking of another man.
“Gisborne!” The very man who was shouting him from the side of the path.
“Locksley.” How had the man outdistanced him, without a horse? What did he want? Another fight?
“I wanted to thank you.”
Well. That was unexpected.
Locksley was staring up at him, a defiant tilt to his head, as if his words of thanks were the first move in a complicated offensive.
“Thank me.”
“Yes. You didn’t have to do what you did, you didn’t have to…stop him.” There was a raw vulnerability coupled with an uncertain doubt in Locksley’s eyes. How did he survive in this world, with so much written on his face?
“You didn’t think I would.”
“Well. We are enemies.” The outlaw reached over his shoulder to rub his bow, perhaps needing the reassurance.
“So, if our situations were reversed, you wouldn’t have stopped him?”
“No! Of course I would! But I’m…”
“Honourable. Noble.” Guy paused. Was Hood blushing? Oh. “You expected me to enjoy it, to stand there and laugh.”
“I, no, I…” and when was Locksley ever ever lost for words?
“You think I’m a monster.” And there it was, Hood snapped back into his heroism, straightening up, becoming larger than his skinny frame.
“I’ve seen you act like one! The Sheriff would have stood there, and laughed and cheered him on, and the Sheriff is the man you serve.” But there it was again, that flicker of uncertainty. Guy was the unarmed man in this situation, but there was a heady sense of power he had never felt before. This must be what the moral high ground felt like. It was interesting.
“The Sheriff wouldn’t just have watched, he’d have asked for a turn. I am not the man I serve, Locksley. I hate you, but I only want to kill you.”
“I…I am in your debt, and I need to repay you.”
Guy simply laughed, and rode away, faster than Locksley could hope to run.
He overslept the next day, and the damned servants didn’t like him enough to stall Vaisey.
“Wakey wakey Gisborne! I hear you spent an exciting night.”
Oh God. He found it difficult enough to deal with Vaisey when he was wearing his familiar leathers and weapons, reassuring shields against Vaisey’s pervasive nature. He couldn’t carry a conversation half asleep and wearing insubstantial nightclothes.
“I could have used some help.”
“You’re being soft again Gisborne.” And the man just walked straight up to his bed and sat down as Guy squirmed up the mattress, trying not to look as if he were cowering under the blankets. Locksley’s bed. He thought, irrationally. The Sheriff’s eyes were moving over him, reading everything.
“You came back without a mark on you. Who did help you?”
“Robin Hood.”
“Now why would he do that?”
“He’s a fool.”
“You didn’t do him a good turn then?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because he’s just so pretty, and you become exceedingly stupid around pretty things.”
He wondered what Locksley would do if he ever heard Guy call him pretty. Probably shoot at him. Vaisey was still watching.
“What?”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I offered to pay his ransom.”
“Because…”
“Watt, their leader, was going to… to beat him to death…for defending Marian! And I, well… she looked terrified and I couldn’t let her think I supported that kind of thing.” It was close to the truth, probably. He didn’t really know what the truth was. He was lying to the Sheriff. Again. Because of Hood.
“Oh for…Lepers! You do support that kind of thing, you are very supportive of the idea of beating Locksley to death, that’s why we are on the same side.”
“I’d rather just run him through with a sword.”
“Wonderful. Keep it simple Guy, you can manage simple.” Bastard. And as he thought the word the Sheriff stiffened and looked at him closely. He can read minds! Guy panicked, but then Vaisey got off the bed and went to the window instead.
“I’m sending troops out after those peasants. We need to clear the forest in order to send the taxes to London. I’d cut the whole thing down if I could, torch it, smoke out the vermin that hide there.” He would too, Guy realised. Incinerate those ancient trees, carve it out of the face of England as if it had never been, Locksley along with it.
He was going to start this day thinking of fire, and murder. That happened a lot.