Confessions

Chapter 3



It was a few days after my wedding to de Rainault that I realised that my new husband had no interest in me other than the income I had brought him. He was a proud man, who was preoccupied, almost to the point of mania, by the hunt for Robin Hood. I had heard much of Robin Hood, and I knew that, while my new husband hated him with a passion, the ideals of the wolfshead and his band were honourable, if, to my naive young mind, poorly executed.



It was a little later in my marriage that I began to understand the true significance of the outlaws’ crusade, as before I married de Rainault I had had no idea about the plight of the common people. Their experience was as foreign to me as the stars were, and until I began to accompany my new husband out into the shire on business, I was ignorant of their suffering. My growing awareness of this fact was something I chose to hide from my husband, as I feared his reaction-after all, he had my dowry; there was nothing to stop him convicting me of treason.



As a result of this obsession, with the outlaws, de Rainault had little time for me. I found myself roaming the castle, and the grounds, trying in vain to fill the long, empty hours, and nursing my shattered heart and hopes. Alan was lost to me-that much I knew, but it would take time for me to come to terms with that fact. In spite of the vow to myself the night before my wedding, for a long time after I was married, it was all I could do to wander the castle like a ghost, mourning the life and the love I could have had.



The road to the recovery was a slow one, but eventually I found myself noticing life around me again. The spring flowers began to push their way through the soil in the castle gardens, and I began to wish to venture further outside. I knew that it was hopeless to try to convince my husband to ride out with me; the only time he ventured outside the castle was on official business, or on one of his schemes to capture Robin Hood. The concept of leaving the castle for pleasure was beyond him.



However, it seemed that I gave my new husband too little credit. There was some compassion for me outside of his obsession with Robin Hood. He noticed that I was looking a little wan, and, in his own brash way, made the suggestion to me that I should “get out of my sight and take Gisburne out for a walk,” adding rather unkindly, “he needs the exercise.”



I was surprised; Gisburne was my husband’s steward, and although de Rainault abused and insulted him on a regular basis, he very rarely let Gisburne out of his sight. I was desperate, however, to leave the increasingly claustrophobic confines of the castle, and so I didn’t question his motives too deeply. So it was that I found myself mounting the same white mare that had brought me to Nottingham, and heading out into the beautiful early Spring countryside.



Gisburne wasn’t much of a companion that day. Doubtless, he saw it as an insult that he had been reduced in status to bodyguard, or worse, escort, to the wife of the Sheriff. He barely said a word during our ride out to the forest. His brooding, almost malevolent presence hardly made for a relaxing afternoon. I couldn’t help noticing that he looked even thinner than usual; I wondered if the Sheriff had been working him too hard, in spite of my husband’s jibes to the contrary. I knew already, from my few months at Nottingham Castle, that my husband thrust a great deal of the more energetic responsibilities of capturing outlaws and collecting taxes, onto Gisburne’s broad shoulders. Yet, in spite of his gaunt appearance, his long legs barely needed to touch Fury’s sides for the horse to respond. I remember noticing again just how good a rider he was. He hardly moved in the saddle, even at the canter, and, just as before, when he thought I wasn’t looking, he would give the horse’s ears a casual scratch.



“What a beautiful afternoon it is, Guy,” I said brightly, after nearly ten minutes of silence. I wanted to take the opportunity to make the outing more pleasant for us both, so I addressed him by his first name in an attempt to make some personal contact wit him.



He didn’t reply.



I tried again. “It’s so good to get away from the castle.”



Still no response. Guy, who, form that moment, in my own mind at least, became Guy and not Gisburne, stared straight ahead, guiding Fury through the overhanging trees. He was in his customary blue tunic and chain mail, but without the rather severe metal hat that he had been wearing during our last ride through the forest together. Again, I noticed his unruly blond hair.



“I can’t remember the last time I took a ride like this,” I persevered, determined to get a response from my sullen companion. Guy merely grunted and turned his head away. For the moment, I gave up. In truth, I was too taken with the scenery around me to concern myself any further with my escort. If he didn’t wish to engage in conversation with me, then so be it. It was a beautiful spring day, and I couldn’t help but be cheered by the signs of new life all around us.



That might have been the last of our conversation, had not my mount thrown a shoe five minutes later. The poor animal stumbled, and I, rather unceremoniously, tumbled down onto the forest floor.



“My Lady de Rainault!” Guy exclaimed, brought back from his sullenness by the quick turn of events. Sliding from Fury to the ground, he knelt and offered me his hand.



“Do not concern yourself, Guy,” I replied. I was pleased that there wasn’t so much as a tremor in my voice, although my dress was a little the worse for wear. “I’ve fallen many times from my father’s horses-this time it was rather more of an embarrassment than an injury!”



To my surprise, Guy smiled briefly. I assumed he must have been relieved that he did not have to explain an injured wife to the Sheriff. No prizes for guessing who would have got the blame if I had been hurt. Helping me to my feet, he then turned his attentions to my horse. He ran an expert hand down the horse’s left foreleg and then turned to look at me. “Throwing the shoe’s lamed her,” he muttered. “You’ll have to take Fury, and I’ll lead her back to the castle.” Patting the mare’s neck, he turned his attentions to me. I turned to face Fury, and Guy quickly put his arms around my waist and heaved me up onto the black stallion. I paused to wonder what my skirts would do in the absence of a sidesaddle, but I scrambled hastily onto the horse’s back.



Fury started to shift around a little, but at a single word from Guy, the horse stood still. Again I marvelled at the horse’s compliance. “He’s well broken,” I commented, taking up the reins.



“He knows what’ll happen to him if he messes about,” Guy replied lightly, but then the cool, efficient façade closed his features once more. “We’d better turn back.” He stepped forward, and took the mare’s reins in his right hand. I gave Fury a gentle squeeze and we began the trek back to Nottingham.



Guy was as silent on the return journey as he had been on the way out to the forest, and I realised that it was hopeless to try to engage him any further. He walked alongside me, head slightly bowed, and I noticed, from my vantage point above him, that his hair needed trimming as it curled around his collar. His neck looked oddly vulnerable. Startled, realising that I was staring, I turned my gaze back to the path ahead, but not before I felt a hot blush creeping up my cheeks.



That was the first of many of the same excursions. My husband obviously had little use for his steward in the following weeks, as Guy was always sent with me. He remained no more amused by this task than he had been the first time, and I still sensed that he thought it was below him. Nevertheless, he accompanied me without complaint, at least to myself.



It was early summer when something happened that meant I was to be confined to the castle for a time. On one of our treks into the opening areas of the forest, we were attacked. I had not known the outlaws to venture so close to the edge of the forest, and to be fair, it seemed more bad luck than intent that made our paths cross that day.



Two of them, that was all; a bear of a man with a huge beard and a smaller, stocky, rather aggressive looking man. They came as if from nowhere, jumping from the trees above us and landing directly in front of the horses. My mare shied, and Guy obviously thought she would bolt, as he leaned over and grabbed her reins. I took them gently from him, showing him that I could manage.



“Well, well, well, what have we here?” The smaller man grinned. “Are you taking your pet Knight out for a walk, my Lady de Rainault?”



I didn’t have time to wonder how the man knew my name, before Guy responded.



“Silence, Wolfshead!” Guy hissed. “You do not address the wife of the Sheriff.”



Quick as lightning, the smaller man darted to Guy’s other side.



“I think you’ll find, Gisburne, that I can address who I like, how I like.” He drew a knife from his belt.



“Scarlet…” The larger man warned. “Leave him be. You know what we’re here for.”



Reluctantly, the man called Scarlet dropped back a little. He came round to my side.



“Your purse, my lady?” He asked, with mock courtesy.



I was just about to hand over the small leather pouch at my waist, when Guy interceded once again.



“You will not rob the wife of the Sheriff!” He shouted, and drew his sword.



“Guy, no!” I yelled back. “Let them have what they want, we don’t want any trouble.”



“I’ll handle this, my lady,” Guy replied, swinging a punch at Scarlet’s head.



Unfortunately for Guy, Scarlet was too quick for him, and he grabbed Guy’s arm, dragging him from his horse. I watched on helplessly as the two men fought, until finally Guy fell, close to the hooves of the horses.



“Guy!” I yelled again, more in worry this time. Throwing the purse to the other, larger man, I turned my anger on him. “Take it-it’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Now leave us be!” The man simply bowed, thanked me, and then dragged his companion away.



As soon as they were out of sight, I dismounted and dropped to my knees beside Guy. He had a bloody nose and a rapidly blackening eye, but he seemed to be regaining his senses.



“Guy?” I said urgently. “Guy, can you hear me?” I ripped the lace from one of my cuffs and tried to dab at his bleeding nose.



He struggled to sit up, and I noticed that he flinched away from my efforts to clean the blood from his face. “Get back on your horse, my Lady,” he spluttered, wiping the residue from his face on the back of his hand. “We must return to Nottingham.”



“But you’re hurt, let’s wait a moment-“ I tried again. “The outlaws have gone, we’ll be safe now.”



“I said, get back on your horse!” Guy roared. He jumped up suddenly and walked briskly to where Fury was waiting. The horse had dropped his head to graze, and Guy, quite uncharacteristically, yanked the horse’s head up harshly and mounted him.



He didn’t say a word on the way home, and not even Fury received his attentions. As soon as we were through the castle gates, Guy handed over the horses to the stable hands and strode to his quarters, leaving me alone and bewildered about the entire encounter.



It didn’t take long for the Sheriff to hear of our meeting with the outlaws. I was in my own chamber, where I had spent most of my nights since my nuptials, when Robert barged in unannounced. He and I had consummated our marriage, several times in fact-I do not wish for you to think that he was neglectful in his duties, but he expressed the desire that we maintain separate chambers for our mutual convenience. I had no motivation to argue, and in truth I was relieved to have space and time to myself. His face showed a mixture of anger and, surprisingly, concern.



“My dear, I hope that you are unharmed from your encounter with the outlaws?” He walked over to where I sat and squeezed my hand briefly. “I understand that you were ambushed on your ride.”



“I am fine, thank you Robert,” I replied. “It was poor Guy who took the beating.”



“That imbecile!” Robert hissed. “I charge him with a simple duty and he cannot even protect you.”



“He protected me as best as he could,” I replied, earning a venomous glance from Robert.



“And still the wolfsheads robbed you?” He said. Pausing for a moment, he met my gaze, and the concern in his eyes surprised me again. “My dear, I think it best that you confine yourself to the castle for the next few weeks,” he continued. “After all, I cannot allow this…unpleasantness…to happen again.”



“Robert, I hardly feel that’s necessary-after all I-“



“Enough!” Robert replied harshly. “You will stay within the castle grounds until I see fit. Do you understand?”



I knew enough to merely nod and acquiesce to his order. He seemed satisfied with that, for what he said next took my breath away.



“After all,” he looked at me once more. “I cannot have the mother of my future heir losing her life in Sherwood now, can I?”



For the next few weeks I was again limited to the walls and grounds of Nottingham Castle. The Sheriff would not even allow me to accompany him on his own trips around the Shire. I had begun to make some initial visits with him, when he deemed fit, and I was beginning to get a clear picture of the pitiful state of the people who dwelled in the county. As I’ve said, that was when I began to realise that this was where part of my own duty lay.



True to his word, he began to visit me in my chamber more often, and it seemed he really was intent on producing an heir. However, when three months passed and nothing came of our nights together, he seemed once more to lose interest in the idea. As his interest waned, so he began to loosen his restrictions upon me.



But I digress. It didn’t even occur to me that for several days after our encounter with the outlaws I didn’t see Guy. I suppose I was too preoccupied with the attention that my husband was suddenly lavishing upon me. De Rainault was obviously momentarily obsessed with the idea of siring a child, and as such he spent nearly all of his time with me for the next week. We even ate by ourselves in the Great Hall, free from servants, associates and Guy.



The next time I saw him after the forest upset, was almost ten days later. As he approached the table in the Great Hall, where my husband and I already sat, I noticed that he carried himself rather stiffly. As he seated himself, he seemed to flinch at the contact with the chair. My husband must have seen me draw breath to ask Guy if he was feeling well, because he interrupted with “Ah, Gisburne, you saw fit to join us at last. We’ve missed you over the past few days, haven’t we, my dear?”



Had I known to look for the malicious glint in my husband’s eyes then, I would most definitely have seen it.



“Thank you, my lord Sheriff,” Guy replied quietly, helping himself to bread and an apple. To my eyes, he looked more gaunt than ever. The bruise around his eye had turned from purple to an ugly yellow, and was the only colour on his blanched face. He ate little that evening, and every movement seemed laboured. I hoped that I would be able to ask him why he moved so strangely, should we have a moment alone, but that never happened. Even if it had, I reflected later that evening, from what I knew of Guy, he would not share the cause of his ills with me. I was still very much an inconvenience to him.



It wasn’t until much later that I found out exactly where Guy had been for those ten days. I should have taken more time to find out there and then; I should have questioned my husband further about it, but both men evaded my curiosity. When I found out the truth, it horrified me.



The Sheriff had ordered his personal guards, those few men who were not under the direct command of Guy himself, to take Guy to the dungeon, where he had been soundly whipped for his part in the Sherwood ambush. I remember seeing the scars on his back, and asking him where they had come from, and even then he was loath to confess. It was then that I realised how much it had cost him to lose the fight with Scarlet. My husband might not have loved me, but he certainly wouldn’t tolerate the embarrassment of an ambush on me. It was a horrifying truth.



De Rainault was certainly an indifferent husband, but he was never cruel to me, until possibly the end. I was under no illusions that he could be cruel; I had seen entire villages burned to the ground at his instigation, but to me, he was at best uninterested, and at worst rude. I learned over time, that his preoccupation with money and wolfsheads, not necessarily in that order, meant that he didn’t concern himself too much with my actions. So long as I was there to share his bed when necessary, he left me to my own devices. It was this that allowed me to begin to redress the balance with the people of Nottingham, and in some small way, to further the cause that both Robin Hood and I believed in.



You see, I believed in improving the situation of the people almost as much as Robin Hood did. The difference was that I had the power and influence, if not the reputation, to make the small changes that would make a difference. For example, I saw to it that the percentage of grain given to the offices of the Sheriff from each village was gradually reduced over time, and my husband was willing, in his happier moments to listen. I also ensured that when my father died, which happened a few months after my move to Nottingham, I was able to channel my inheritance to better causes than my own (my husband being under the impression that my father had died penniless from fighting in the local wars and thus not digging too deeply into the matter). These were small gestures, but I think they went some way to redressing the balance.



Of course, these little actions hardly took up all of my time, and once again I was thrown into the company of Guy of Gisburne. Our next encounter of any note was during a reception for the Earl of Chester. It was Mid May and my husband had ridden to Chester to meet with the Earl before bringing him back to Nottingham, so the preparations for the Earl’s reciprocal visit had fallen to Guy to manage. The Earl was one of the most prominent landowners in England, and as his lands bordered Wales, he was a strategically important ally. Second only to the Earl of Huntingdon in terms of land ownership, my husband saw him as a man of great influence and power, which undoubtedly he was. Therefore, everything needed to be in place for his visit, including the roles of steward and dutiful wife.



My husband had left me a variety of gowns to choose from for the reception night, and I was busy trying to decide which to wear when I heard raised voices from the Great Hall. Exiting my chamber, I recognised one of the voices as Guy’s.



“You damned imbecile, I told you to put the venison and the pork on separate plates. Now the whole lot will have to be done again!” His harsh splutter was instantly recognisable.

“I’m sorry, my lord, truly I am,” came the voice of the hapless page, who was obviously cowering in his shoes.



“Take it back to the cook, and don’t make any more stupid mistakes!” Guy continued. Then, he raised his hand as if to strike the boy.



“Gisburne, leave that child!” I cried out instinctively. “I will have no boy, or servant for that matter, struck while I am the wife of the Sheriff.” I might have taken to calling him by his first name in private, but as far as I was concerned, now was the time to exert a little influence.



Guy looked up at the balcony where I stood, and his eyes blazed with humiliation and anger. “My Lady de Rainault, this imbecile nearly ruined the feast.”



“But it can be mended, Gisburne, so leave him be.”



Guy’s features flushed and he ran a hand through his hair in irritation. “Very well, my Lady de Rainault,” he muttered. Then, to the boy, “Well, what are you staring at? Get back to the kitchen and sort out this mess.”



As soon as the boy left, I walked down the stairs and joined Guy in the Great Hall. I was shaking with rage. “You do not hit children in this castle,” I said firmly. “If you ever attempt to do that again, I will have you removed from your post-do you understand?”



“But my lady, I-“



“Don’t interrupt me, Gisburne,” I retorted angrily. “You will treat the servants with respect.” I must have looked an absolute sight, barely seventeen years old and commanding a Knight who was almost a foot taller, and seven years older than I, but it worked.



Gisburne merely nodded, dropped his long back into an ironic bow and walked away. I had seen a glimpse of the cruelty that I had heard existed in this man, and I didn’t like it.



That night, the banquet for the Earl of Chester went without a hitch. The food was exquisite, and I accompanied my husband and said all of the right things to the right people. If his guests were surprised at the youthfulness of his wife, none of them mentioned it to my husband. I had been brought up to play this role, and I carried it off with aplomb.



Fortunately, de Rainault and the Earl stayed up late that night, talking and drinking, and so I was left alone in my chambers. Guy was with them. Guy hadn’t exchanged a single word with me during the whole evening, and as I retired to my chamber, I once again noticed his brooding, malevolent presence, slumped over the table, consuming more wine than was probably good for him. As I bid my farewells to my husband and the Earl for the night, I saw Guy’s dark eyes burning with anger and humiliation once more. I had disgraced him, and he was not willing to forget that in a hurry. I sensed then that I had better watch out, as Guy of Gisburne could make an awkward enemy.