(no subject)
Nov. 6th, 2007 10:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grenegomeTitle: Lion’s Heart (2/4)
Pairing: Robin/Guy
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Some scuffling and mild cursing.
Summary: Guy is waiting for his weekly run-in with the outlaws.
Random question, am I spelling Vaisey correctly? I couldn’t find it on the BBC site, and there are the shiny alternatives of Vaysey and Vaizey that I passed over.
Part 1
Pairing: Robin/Guy
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Some scuffling and mild cursing.
Summary: Guy is waiting for his weekly run-in with the outlaws.
Random question, am I spelling Vaisey correctly? I couldn’t find it on the BBC site, and there are the shiny alternatives of Vaysey and Vaizey that I passed over.
Part 1
A week after his abduction with Hood, Guy was beginning to feel a little edgy. Nothing had been seen or heard of the outlaw in seven days and the absence of that persistent irritant meant Guy felt like he was continually holding his breath, waiting for the next appearance. He could guess when it would come. So could the Sheriff.
They were staring at a crudely sketched map of the roads through Sherwood.
“If we use the lower path, it’s less likely to attract Hood’s attention.”
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Perhaps because sending a wagon that heavy on that route would mean it would sink into the mud and never be seen again?”
Vaisey was being awkward today, the rains hadn’t been that heavy. The Sheriff had been in a foul mood all morning.
Bang, bang, bang.
That hammering wasn’t going to make him any happier.
“I said I wasn’t to be disturbed!”
Bang, bang, bang.
“Whoever, that is, kill them.”
Guy disliked killing people before lunch, but the racket was irritating. He swung open the doors, drawing his sword, but stopped with his weapon half unsheathed. The killee was…noble.
“I’m looking for Locksley.”
“I own Locksley. I’m also busy.”
“You do not own Locksley.”
“I do, and I suggest you leave because you’re aggravating the Sheriff.”
“I need to see Robin of Locksley.”
“Well, if you want to wander around Sherwood jingling your purse I’m sure you’ll get your wish”, the Sheriff offered, still sat at the table with a bored expression on his face. “Now get out of my castle!”
“I am Cecil de Courtell, and you will not speak to me in that manner. I am on the King’s business.”
“The King’s business? The king has no business with outlaws.”
“I fail to see how outlaws pertain to this conversation.”
“You said you wanted to speak to Robin Hood.”
“I have been instructed to contact the Earl of Huntingdon.”
“Ah, then happily your business is concluded because there is no longer anyone by that name.”
“He’s dead?” The man visibly paled, and caught hold of Guy’s arm for support.
“Worse, he has taken up the life of a petty thief, and calls Sherwood home.”
“You…have caused Robin of Locksley to take up residence in a forest? The Hero of Acre? The Lion’s Heart? Are you completely insane?!” He had let go of Guy now and pushed his way into the room. Gisborne was too surprised to stop him.
“He broke the law.”
“This is Robin. The King…”
“Is very busy, and has bigger things to worry about. He’s fighting a war you know.”
“My God. When he finds out…he’ll have you executed, and put Locksley in your place.”
“I really think you’re overestimating how much one petty noble can mean to Richard.”
“You’re a fool. Ask any man who has served under either of them. He sent Robin home, to keep him safe, to await his arrival, and you make him an outlaw…when he finds out!” The man seemed horror struck, stuck repeating one idea.
“Well, we’ll be sure not to worry him with the news. We don’t want to distract him from all those nasty infidels.”
The man just stared at them.
“Sherwood, you say? That’s where I’ll find him?”
“Ah, but of course I could not permit you to go off consorting with outlaws.”
“Permit? I repeat, I am on the King’s business.” At this the man produced a letter and waved it under Vaisey’s nose. The Royal seal was clearly visible. “Your permission is entirely irrelevant.”
“Ah, but the King is not aware of Hood’s new status. I couldn’t possibly permit the King’s messenger to come to harm, goodness knows what could happen to you, alone in the woods, all those savages running around. No, we had a hoard of marauders just last week, abducting their betters from their own houses. It would be irresponsible of me in the circumstances, to let you leave the castle.”
“You were trying to throw me out before! This is ridiculous, I have travelled for weeks and will not be waylaid now.”
The Sheriff’s eyes narrowed.
“You misunderstand me. Tomorrow, our taxes are to be delivered to London, under heavy guard, through Sherwood. I have no doubt whatsoever that you will have the pleasure of Locksley’s presence on this trip.”
Courtell hesitated for a moment.
“Very well.”
“Good. Guy, have a maid show him a room, then send her in here, I’m thirsty.”
Guy nodded, and left, wondering what the Sheriff was up to.
He didn’t get time to ask about Vaisey’s plan, he was busy with preparations for tomorrow, chasing Guardsmen around the castle, checking they knew when they were departing, letting slip false information about the route they were taking, making sure the horses were cared for, and that the treasure chests were secure. They were ready.
It was to be an early start, so Guy was to sleep in the castle. He would have felt safer behind the wooden walls of Locksley than in the heart of those cold stones. He never slept well in Nottingham.
He was peeling himself out of his leathers when Vaisey pushed himself into the room. Guy squirmed back into them hurriedly.
“Oh, don’t mind me Gisborne. I need a word.”
Guy did mind, and he laced himself back up before he would meet the Sheriff’s eyes.
“Yes sir?”
“About tomorrow. You have to run into Hood.”
“I what?” All of his preparations today had been about not running into Locksley.
“Courtell needs to see Hood acting like a villain. If we can convince him to go back to the King with our side of the story then all is well. And I need to know what he needs to say to Hood. There’s something between him Richard that I haven’t worked out.”
You’re fit for a King, aren’t you? Echoed in Guy’s memory.
“So make a racket going through the woods, and persuade Courtell to wear a hood, or something that will obscure his face, I don’t care what excuse you use, you need Locksley to try and steal the gold, not walk up for a friendly chat. You understand?”
“Yes.” Guy said, with the inevitable feeling that this was somehow going to go horribly horribly wrong.
“Whatever happens, Hood must not tell him the truth about Acre.”
“Do you think he’d believe him?”
“That the Prince sent an Assassin to murder his brother? Of course not, that would be treason…and Hood himself doesn’t really know who sent you, but I’m starting to think Richard might…oh, to get my hands on that letter.”
“You couldn’t?”
“He sleeps with the damn thing, doesn’t let it out of his sight.”
He didn’t ask how Vaisey knew that.
The details of Vaisey’s plan meant that, to Guy’s irritation, he was forced to change many of the guardsmen he had planned to take with him. The more talented ones wouldn’t be close to hand and he was wary of the fact that there was a new untested man who would be with them. So it surprised Guy that the next morning, even through his irritable mood, he was quietly impressed with Courtell. The man was a little early, and unlike most nobles he didn’t whinge about the lack of sleep or the cold wind. He held his horse, slightly apart from the others, with a look of quiet determination on his face. Guy had come up behind him, almost silently, and when he was at about sword’s length the man swung about, placing the horse between them, and eyeing Guy wearily.
“You’re a Crusader.” He said, carefully.
“Of course I am, I come from the King.” A perfect opening.
“You know him well?”
“As well as a man should know his monarch.”
“And you knew Locksley.”
“I know Locksley. A good man, the best. He may even have saved my life a few more times than I saved his.”
Well…that could pose difficulties.
“I feel I should warn you, you might find him somewhat altered.”
“Altered?”
“Yes. You’ve seen men, turned by battle. You know that the death and the heat, that it can addle a man’s mind. And you said Locksley was ill too, before he came back?” The Sheriff’s words dropped too easily from his lips, just enough truth in the poison to make it palatable.
“He was ill…but I do not think him mad.”
“Well, it’s hard to explain his behaviour in any other way.”
And Guy walked away, leaving Courtell to brood.
Sherwood seemed strangely welcoming that morning. Usually he felt as if he were intruding into its silent depths. Today the sunshine had followed him in, peeping through the trees and conducting choruses of birds. Courtell looked incongruously suspicious in his giant hooded cloak.
There were fewer guards with the cart than Guy would have liked, per the Sheriff’s orders, but it did mean they were rattling along at a fine pace, the carriage containing the chest bouncing over the path. Perhaps too fast to meet Hood. Plots aside, that seemed a tempting prospect.
Fssst.
An arrow embedded itself in the path before him, and he was nearly unhorsed.
“Drop your weapons!” Came a familiar voice, echoing from every branch.
Courtell stiffened in his saddle.
Guy gestured for his men to keep hold of their weapons. They didn’t look convinced.
“Drop your weapons or I shoot you!”
“You’d kill me for the King’s gold, Locksley, when you owe me your life?”
There was silence for a moment or two.
“I don’t kill those who aren’t trying to kill me. Depends how annoying you’re feeling today.”
As soon as the voice responded to the name ‘Locksley’, Courtell threw his hood back.
“Robin, what the devil are you playing at?”
“Cecil?”
“Show your face you foolish boy.” There was a rattle of branches and Hood appeared at the foot of a tree.
“Cecil!”
“What do you think you’re doing, skulking in the woods like a common criminal?”
“Long story, but there are good reasons, I give you my word. Get away from Gisborne, he isn’t safe.”
“He isn’t going anywhere Hood, I’ve been charged with his safety.”
“Oh come now, I hardly need defending from Robin, and I have to deliver my letter.”
The guards were looking even more edgy, unnerved by the unexpected dialogue. Guy was keeping his eye on the new man, on Courtell’s left.
“If it’s that important, he can come to you, but he isn’t taking any gold and you aren’t going with him undefended.”
“Letter?”
“From the King, Robin.”
Hood took a step backwards, and Guy, for an instant, had the bizarre impression that he was going to burst into tears.
“The King! Courtell, you need to tell him what’s happening! He needs to come home, he cannot trust-”
“Now!” Gisborne shouted, and arrows rained down around Locksley.
Courtell swore, and dropped from his horse, racing toward Robin.
Guy swore too, and sprung down to dash after Courtell. He hoped the hidden archers, who were some of the best men he had, had the sense to stop shooting.
The two men had vanished into the trees and Guy sped up. His men weren’t with him. They hardly ever were, not when he really needed them.
“Ow ow ow.”
“You really shouldn’t be running with an arrow sticking out of you.”
“Djaq will see to it later, leave it be. You said there’s a letter?”
He must be closing on them.
“Yes. You said I must speak to Richard?”
“Yes. The attempt to kill him in Acre, it wasn’t a Saracen.”
“Robin, I saw them as clear as you, it was a Saracen.”
“It was Gisborne. I saw his tattoo.”
“Tattoo?”
“He had a tattoo, but the Sheriff burnt it off, with a special liquid.”
“Burnt? Oh, Robin, my poor boy.”
“You will tell the King?”
“I will tell the King that he must send word that you are to be pardoned of whatever crimes this sickness caused you to commit, and hope, that given warmth and safety you may regain your right mind.”
“Sickness? There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“Look at yourself! You’re skin and bones, you’re dressed like a peasant, and you have been stealing Richard’s gold!”
“I always dress like this!”
Guy caught up with them in a clearing.
“Locksley. Drop your weapons.”
Hood skidding to a halt and spun around, rage in his eyes.
“What lies have you been poisoning him with Gisborne?” He hissed, yanking an arrow from his shoulder and drawing the curved Saracen blade without acknowledging the pain.
“Nothing but the truth. Why don’t you come back to the castle? We can help you, keep you safe.” He was improvising now, but Courtell looked convinced.
“HELP ME?” And Locksley swung viciously, disregarding his skill with a blade in an expression of frustration.
“Robin!” Courtell cried, looking horrified.
Guy parried and felt a sudden sting of exhilaration as their blades crashed. He remembered the last time they had fought, fists on flesh, rolling and thrashing about the forest floor. He was grinning, and wondered who looked most like a lunatic. Some of Hood’s movements were awkward, hampered by the arrow wound. He was going to win this time, he knew it.
“Robin! Be sensible!” And that was Courtell, drawing his blade with a look of worry on his face.
“Stay away from him!” A new voice, the boy outlaw, the one with the axe. He was squaring off with Courtell.
“No! Will, you aren’t to fight that man!” But Courtell was already swinging. “That’s an ORDER Will!” Confused, the young outlaw turned and ran. Courtell vanished after him.
Hood tried to see past Guy, and noting the other man’s shift in balance, Guy lunged forcing a step back.
God was smiling on Guy that day, because as Hood stepped back, there was a tree root under his feet and he fell in a flurry of leaves.
His sword was at Locksley’s throat. His smile threatened to split his face, and he trapped Locksley’s blade beneath his foot.
Guy hadn’t thought this far ahead. It would be easy, to press forward and watch Hood’s life blood drain into the forest floor. But Courtell was somewhere nearby. He could see the King’s letter, peeking out from the top of Locksley’s shirt. Guy’s blood was up, breath coming fast and drums in his ears. He wanted the kill, but no, here and now was not the time.
“SIR! THE OUTLAWS! THE GOLD!” Damn it! Locksley was smiling up at him now, without the sense to be afraid as the panic of Guy’s men drifted through the woods.
He picked Hood up by the front of his shirt, making sure the outlaw lost his grip on the sword.
“SIR! THE GOLD!”
He had felt the sudden urge to pull Locksley closer, but as the smug grin turned into a laugh, his anger rose up, and he threw Locksley against the nearest tree instead.
Crack.
The man’s head made a sickening thud as it collided with the bark. Locksley crumpled into a heap.
They were staring at a crudely sketched map of the roads through Sherwood.
“If we use the lower path, it’s less likely to attract Hood’s attention.”
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Perhaps because sending a wagon that heavy on that route would mean it would sink into the mud and never be seen again?”
Vaisey was being awkward today, the rains hadn’t been that heavy. The Sheriff had been in a foul mood all morning.
Bang, bang, bang.
That hammering wasn’t going to make him any happier.
“I said I wasn’t to be disturbed!”
Bang, bang, bang.
“Whoever, that is, kill them.”
Guy disliked killing people before lunch, but the racket was irritating. He swung open the doors, drawing his sword, but stopped with his weapon half unsheathed. The killee was…noble.
“I’m looking for Locksley.”
“I own Locksley. I’m also busy.”
“You do not own Locksley.”
“I do, and I suggest you leave because you’re aggravating the Sheriff.”
“I need to see Robin of Locksley.”
“Well, if you want to wander around Sherwood jingling your purse I’m sure you’ll get your wish”, the Sheriff offered, still sat at the table with a bored expression on his face. “Now get out of my castle!”
“I am Cecil de Courtell, and you will not speak to me in that manner. I am on the King’s business.”
“The King’s business? The king has no business with outlaws.”
“I fail to see how outlaws pertain to this conversation.”
“You said you wanted to speak to Robin Hood.”
“I have been instructed to contact the Earl of Huntingdon.”
“Ah, then happily your business is concluded because there is no longer anyone by that name.”
“He’s dead?” The man visibly paled, and caught hold of Guy’s arm for support.
“Worse, he has taken up the life of a petty thief, and calls Sherwood home.”
“You…have caused Robin of Locksley to take up residence in a forest? The Hero of Acre? The Lion’s Heart? Are you completely insane?!” He had let go of Guy now and pushed his way into the room. Gisborne was too surprised to stop him.
“He broke the law.”
“This is Robin. The King…”
“Is very busy, and has bigger things to worry about. He’s fighting a war you know.”
“My God. When he finds out…he’ll have you executed, and put Locksley in your place.”
“I really think you’re overestimating how much one petty noble can mean to Richard.”
“You’re a fool. Ask any man who has served under either of them. He sent Robin home, to keep him safe, to await his arrival, and you make him an outlaw…when he finds out!” The man seemed horror struck, stuck repeating one idea.
“Well, we’ll be sure not to worry him with the news. We don’t want to distract him from all those nasty infidels.”
The man just stared at them.
“Sherwood, you say? That’s where I’ll find him?”
“Ah, but of course I could not permit you to go off consorting with outlaws.”
“Permit? I repeat, I am on the King’s business.” At this the man produced a letter and waved it under Vaisey’s nose. The Royal seal was clearly visible. “Your permission is entirely irrelevant.”
“Ah, but the King is not aware of Hood’s new status. I couldn’t possibly permit the King’s messenger to come to harm, goodness knows what could happen to you, alone in the woods, all those savages running around. No, we had a hoard of marauders just last week, abducting their betters from their own houses. It would be irresponsible of me in the circumstances, to let you leave the castle.”
“You were trying to throw me out before! This is ridiculous, I have travelled for weeks and will not be waylaid now.”
The Sheriff’s eyes narrowed.
“You misunderstand me. Tomorrow, our taxes are to be delivered to London, under heavy guard, through Sherwood. I have no doubt whatsoever that you will have the pleasure of Locksley’s presence on this trip.”
Courtell hesitated for a moment.
“Very well.”
“Good. Guy, have a maid show him a room, then send her in here, I’m thirsty.”
Guy nodded, and left, wondering what the Sheriff was up to.
He didn’t get time to ask about Vaisey’s plan, he was busy with preparations for tomorrow, chasing Guardsmen around the castle, checking they knew when they were departing, letting slip false information about the route they were taking, making sure the horses were cared for, and that the treasure chests were secure. They were ready.
It was to be an early start, so Guy was to sleep in the castle. He would have felt safer behind the wooden walls of Locksley than in the heart of those cold stones. He never slept well in Nottingham.
He was peeling himself out of his leathers when Vaisey pushed himself into the room. Guy squirmed back into them hurriedly.
“Oh, don’t mind me Gisborne. I need a word.”
Guy did mind, and he laced himself back up before he would meet the Sheriff’s eyes.
“Yes sir?”
“About tomorrow. You have to run into Hood.”
“I what?” All of his preparations today had been about not running into Locksley.
“Courtell needs to see Hood acting like a villain. If we can convince him to go back to the King with our side of the story then all is well. And I need to know what he needs to say to Hood. There’s something between him Richard that I haven’t worked out.”
You’re fit for a King, aren’t you? Echoed in Guy’s memory.
“So make a racket going through the woods, and persuade Courtell to wear a hood, or something that will obscure his face, I don’t care what excuse you use, you need Locksley to try and steal the gold, not walk up for a friendly chat. You understand?”
“Yes.” Guy said, with the inevitable feeling that this was somehow going to go horribly horribly wrong.
“Whatever happens, Hood must not tell him the truth about Acre.”
“Do you think he’d believe him?”
“That the Prince sent an Assassin to murder his brother? Of course not, that would be treason…and Hood himself doesn’t really know who sent you, but I’m starting to think Richard might…oh, to get my hands on that letter.”
“You couldn’t?”
“He sleeps with the damn thing, doesn’t let it out of his sight.”
He didn’t ask how Vaisey knew that.
The details of Vaisey’s plan meant that, to Guy’s irritation, he was forced to change many of the guardsmen he had planned to take with him. The more talented ones wouldn’t be close to hand and he was wary of the fact that there was a new untested man who would be with them. So it surprised Guy that the next morning, even through his irritable mood, he was quietly impressed with Courtell. The man was a little early, and unlike most nobles he didn’t whinge about the lack of sleep or the cold wind. He held his horse, slightly apart from the others, with a look of quiet determination on his face. Guy had come up behind him, almost silently, and when he was at about sword’s length the man swung about, placing the horse between them, and eyeing Guy wearily.
“You’re a Crusader.” He said, carefully.
“Of course I am, I come from the King.” A perfect opening.
“You know him well?”
“As well as a man should know his monarch.”
“And you knew Locksley.”
“I know Locksley. A good man, the best. He may even have saved my life a few more times than I saved his.”
Well…that could pose difficulties.
“I feel I should warn you, you might find him somewhat altered.”
“Altered?”
“Yes. You’ve seen men, turned by battle. You know that the death and the heat, that it can addle a man’s mind. And you said Locksley was ill too, before he came back?” The Sheriff’s words dropped too easily from his lips, just enough truth in the poison to make it palatable.
“He was ill…but I do not think him mad.”
“Well, it’s hard to explain his behaviour in any other way.”
And Guy walked away, leaving Courtell to brood.
Sherwood seemed strangely welcoming that morning. Usually he felt as if he were intruding into its silent depths. Today the sunshine had followed him in, peeping through the trees and conducting choruses of birds. Courtell looked incongruously suspicious in his giant hooded cloak.
There were fewer guards with the cart than Guy would have liked, per the Sheriff’s orders, but it did mean they were rattling along at a fine pace, the carriage containing the chest bouncing over the path. Perhaps too fast to meet Hood. Plots aside, that seemed a tempting prospect.
Fssst.
An arrow embedded itself in the path before him, and he was nearly unhorsed.
“Drop your weapons!” Came a familiar voice, echoing from every branch.
Courtell stiffened in his saddle.
Guy gestured for his men to keep hold of their weapons. They didn’t look convinced.
“Drop your weapons or I shoot you!”
“You’d kill me for the King’s gold, Locksley, when you owe me your life?”
There was silence for a moment or two.
“I don’t kill those who aren’t trying to kill me. Depends how annoying you’re feeling today.”
As soon as the voice responded to the name ‘Locksley’, Courtell threw his hood back.
“Robin, what the devil are you playing at?”
“Cecil?”
“Show your face you foolish boy.” There was a rattle of branches and Hood appeared at the foot of a tree.
“Cecil!”
“What do you think you’re doing, skulking in the woods like a common criminal?”
“Long story, but there are good reasons, I give you my word. Get away from Gisborne, he isn’t safe.”
“He isn’t going anywhere Hood, I’ve been charged with his safety.”
“Oh come now, I hardly need defending from Robin, and I have to deliver my letter.”
The guards were looking even more edgy, unnerved by the unexpected dialogue. Guy was keeping his eye on the new man, on Courtell’s left.
“If it’s that important, he can come to you, but he isn’t taking any gold and you aren’t going with him undefended.”
“Letter?”
“From the King, Robin.”
Hood took a step backwards, and Guy, for an instant, had the bizarre impression that he was going to burst into tears.
“The King! Courtell, you need to tell him what’s happening! He needs to come home, he cannot trust-”
“Now!” Gisborne shouted, and arrows rained down around Locksley.
Courtell swore, and dropped from his horse, racing toward Robin.
Guy swore too, and sprung down to dash after Courtell. He hoped the hidden archers, who were some of the best men he had, had the sense to stop shooting.
The two men had vanished into the trees and Guy sped up. His men weren’t with him. They hardly ever were, not when he really needed them.
“Ow ow ow.”
“You really shouldn’t be running with an arrow sticking out of you.”
“Djaq will see to it later, leave it be. You said there’s a letter?”
He must be closing on them.
“Yes. You said I must speak to Richard?”
“Yes. The attempt to kill him in Acre, it wasn’t a Saracen.”
“Robin, I saw them as clear as you, it was a Saracen.”
“It was Gisborne. I saw his tattoo.”
“Tattoo?”
“He had a tattoo, but the Sheriff burnt it off, with a special liquid.”
“Burnt? Oh, Robin, my poor boy.”
“You will tell the King?”
“I will tell the King that he must send word that you are to be pardoned of whatever crimes this sickness caused you to commit, and hope, that given warmth and safety you may regain your right mind.”
“Sickness? There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“Look at yourself! You’re skin and bones, you’re dressed like a peasant, and you have been stealing Richard’s gold!”
“I always dress like this!”
Guy caught up with them in a clearing.
“Locksley. Drop your weapons.”
Hood skidding to a halt and spun around, rage in his eyes.
“What lies have you been poisoning him with Gisborne?” He hissed, yanking an arrow from his shoulder and drawing the curved Saracen blade without acknowledging the pain.
“Nothing but the truth. Why don’t you come back to the castle? We can help you, keep you safe.” He was improvising now, but Courtell looked convinced.
“HELP ME?” And Locksley swung viciously, disregarding his skill with a blade in an expression of frustration.
“Robin!” Courtell cried, looking horrified.
Guy parried and felt a sudden sting of exhilaration as their blades crashed. He remembered the last time they had fought, fists on flesh, rolling and thrashing about the forest floor. He was grinning, and wondered who looked most like a lunatic. Some of Hood’s movements were awkward, hampered by the arrow wound. He was going to win this time, he knew it.
“Robin! Be sensible!” And that was Courtell, drawing his blade with a look of worry on his face.
“Stay away from him!” A new voice, the boy outlaw, the one with the axe. He was squaring off with Courtell.
“No! Will, you aren’t to fight that man!” But Courtell was already swinging. “That’s an ORDER Will!” Confused, the young outlaw turned and ran. Courtell vanished after him.
Hood tried to see past Guy, and noting the other man’s shift in balance, Guy lunged forcing a step back.
God was smiling on Guy that day, because as Hood stepped back, there was a tree root under his feet and he fell in a flurry of leaves.
His sword was at Locksley’s throat. His smile threatened to split his face, and he trapped Locksley’s blade beneath his foot.
Guy hadn’t thought this far ahead. It would be easy, to press forward and watch Hood’s life blood drain into the forest floor. But Courtell was somewhere nearby. He could see the King’s letter, peeking out from the top of Locksley’s shirt. Guy’s blood was up, breath coming fast and drums in his ears. He wanted the kill, but no, here and now was not the time.
“SIR! THE OUTLAWS! THE GOLD!” Damn it! Locksley was smiling up at him now, without the sense to be afraid as the panic of Guy’s men drifted through the woods.
He picked Hood up by the front of his shirt, making sure the outlaw lost his grip on the sword.
“SIR! THE GOLD!”
He had felt the sudden urge to pull Locksley closer, but as the smug grin turned into a laugh, his anger rose up, and he threw Locksley against the nearest tree instead.
Crack.
The man’s head made a sickening thud as it collided with the bark. Locksley crumpled into a heap.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 01:59 am (UTC)Rob unconscious? And Will being chased by a swordsman?
Aargh!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-08 01:05 pm (UTC)*snickers*
Poor Guy! For some reason I think he is plauged by that feeling a lot...
I'm exceedingly impressed with your dialouge, it flows wonderfully. Well done, you!
Interesting turn, with this Cecil de Courtell stumbling into the plot; whats up with this letter, and with the king, and with the Lion's Heart? Keeping us in suspense with evil cliffhangers, hm, okey then...
More, pretty please?
no subject
Date: 2007-11-10 10:27 pm (UTC)