Confessions

Chapter 2



The first time I encountered Sir Guy of Gisburne, he seemed to me to be the coldest, cruellest man I had ever met. Even compared to my father, whose cruelty was well known, this young knight surpassed all expectations. Curt to the point of rudeness to me, and almost as abrupt to my father, the journey from my home to Nottingham was obviously seen by him as an inconvenience. Indeed, to be fair, I suppose that’s what it was.



Gisburne was tall, lean and dangerous looking. His fair, unruly hair was the only thing that lacked control about him. He was distant and aloof when dealing with his men, except when they made mistakes, when his rage and frustration knew no bounds. During the journey, I saw this side of him many times. In fact, it would be fair to say that the only creature for whom Gisburne showed any kind of affection was his horse, Fury. Many times during that long, tedious ride, when he believed that no one was looking, he would reach forward and scratch the ebony stallion’s ears, muttering nonsense that he believed only Fury could hear. Little did I know then, that Fury was the only one who could truly bear Gisburne’s mood swings.



The journey from my old home to Nottingham was uneventful, and gave me plenty of time to wonder about the life I was going into. As we rode through Sherwood Forest, I wondered if we’d encounter the famous outlaws, and their leader, Robin Hood, that I’d heard so much about, but the forest seemed quiet and peaceful. Before I knew it, we were at Nottingham Castle.



The days until my wedding were cold, and I grew increasingly more desolate. I still believed at that time that Alan would somehow come to rescue me, but as the wedding grew closer, I realised that that wasn’t going to happen. The night before the wedding, I lay in my bedchamber and decided that I would put aside the childish feelings of first love, and try to make the best of this terrible situation. De Rainault was an odd man, and a formidable one, but at least as his wife I would want for nothing, and in time I might feel some sort of affection for my husband. What little I knew then of love.



I remember waking up on the morning of my wedding with a somewhat clearer head. If this was the way my life was to be, than I was determined to accept it. The Sheriff had sent a selection of fine gowns and jewels up to my chamber, and I tried to summon up the enthusiasm to try them on. Eventually I settled for the least garish, and as the maid fastened my veil, I knew that this was truly the way my life was going to be.



I spent some time in the castle chapel before the wedding, which was to take place in the main church hall. I tried to pray for my new husband, that he would be tolerant of my ways, but my heart felt as cold as the snow that was threatening to fall outside. Just as I was finishing my prayers, Gisburne entered the chapel. He’d obviously been sent to fetch me for the ceremony, and it was then that I realised there truly was no escape.



“The Sheriff is waiting, my Lady,” he said quietly. I crossed myself one last time.



“I said, the Sheriff is waiting.” Something about his voice touched me. I blinked away my tears and turned to face him. He was standing awkwardly by the door, dressed in long blue ceremonial robes. He was so tall that he seemed to have to stoop to avoid the low ceiling of the chapel. His face wore an uncomfortable expression.



“Let him wait!” I exclaimed, turning back to the altar.



Gisburne waited, as if he expected me to continue. “Oh,” I said. “I’ll obey him. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” I saw Gisburne bow his head, as if he was truly lost for words. Perhaps something about my plight touched him, even then, for he did not seem in a hurry to take me through to the waiting ceremony.



“I shan’t weep.” The tears were threatening again, and, like a knife to the heart, the image of my lost love flashed before me. “Someone once told me that he loved me. Not the Baron de Brecy’s daughter, or her dowry, but me.”



I walked towards Gisburne, who looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but hearing this emotion laden confession. He didn’t know where to look. I tried to meet his eyes, looking for some sense of understanding, compassion, even, and before the efficient façade descended, I think I saw some.



“I’ll never forget him,” I said softly. With that, it was time