Confessions

Chapter 4



Time seemed to fly between the spring and the summer, and before too long, the hot summer days stretched endlessly before me. I was once more able to leave the castle, but only with Guy as an escort. He’d been reinstated as my riding companion as soon as my husband had realised that it was a duty that Guy hated doing. This, it seemed, was enough for de Rainault to order his steward to accompany me whenever I wished to ride; well, so long as my wishes did not interfere with any other business that he wanted Guy to perform. My husband still didn’t permit me to ride alone; I was far too valuable a possession for that, but he allowed me to ride with Guy, of only on the outskirts of Sherwood and the surrounding countryside.



Guy was still sullen in my presence, and he tried to speak as little as possible on our rides out. I was unaccustomed to such hostility, and I tried many times to clear the air, but he was cold, yet polite. Before the ambush, he had been calling me Mildred when we were alone, but now he had resumed calling me by the more formal “My Lady de Rainault.” I wasn’t too worried-after all, I knew that the riding trips were a distraction and a nuisance for him, so I tried to focus on my own enjoyment. It wasn’t easy with over six feet of blonde malevolence on a stallion next to me, but I tried all the same.



It was on a particularly humid summer’s day that I decided to venture down to the stables to see if Fury was inside. The horse had been stabled for the past week or so, after he’d gone lame on one of the latest raiding parties to Wickham. Fury had stepped on a particularly nasty thorn, and, uncharacteristically for the horse, who usually protected his master at all costs, Fury had bucked, and Guy had been thrown. Unhurt, Guy had been left with Blaze to ride, a rather unfit ten-year-old gelding. I knew for a fact that Guy found this situation unsatisfactory, and as a result he had taken to overseeing Fury’s treatment himself.



This was not an unusual situation for a Knight, even one in so high a position as the Sheriff’s steward. After all, Guy had been tutored to take good care of his best asset-his horse, and so it was only correct that he should supervise Fury’s recovery. However, it was unusual for him to spend so much time in the stable, and for him to administer the poultices and change the horse’s dressings himself. I had overheard the conversation with the stable hand two days previously, where Guy had passionately berated the boy for apparently applying the wrong ointment. It had seemed to me that Guy had been looking for an excuse to vent his frustrations, but it did give him the perfect opportunity to dismiss the boy and care for the horse himself.



As I wandered through the main stable door, my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and I could make out the rotund rump of my mare,
Rosa, who had been brought in to keep Fury company. For some reason the two horses had formed an attachment, and her presence seemed to calm the tempestuous stallion, who had a tendency to kick the walls of the stable when he was confined. Guy had, naturally, grumbled about having the two horses in together, but even he had to acknowledge that Fury was a lot more docile with Rosa beside him.



I didn’t wish to disturb the two horses, but it was a relief to be inside the stables and away from the oppressive outside heat. Slowly I walked towards where they were tethered, hitching up my skirt so that it didn’t drag in the straw. As I drew closer, I could hear a low murmuring coming from the stall where Fury and Rosa were.



“You’ll be right as rain in no time,” the quiet voice murmured. “Then I can put Blaze back out in the pasture where he belongs.”



I froze. The voice sounded so calm, so gentle, and so far removed from the angry stutter that it usually was. Creeping closer once more, but not wishing to alert anyone to my presence, I saw un unruly blonde head and a long back bent low over the large black stallion’s left hind leg.



“It’s just as well I’m looking after you now,” the voice continued. “Otherwise you’d be boxed for the rest of the summer. Damned stable hands, most of them don’t know their comfrey from their clay anyway.”



I saw a pair of long fingered hands running gently up and down Fury’s ebony leg, checking for any swelling around the cut. Seemingly satisfied, Guy gently picked up the new poultice and began to bind it expertly around the wound. The stallion stood as quiet as a lamb and allowed him to do it.



I was spellbound by his actions. He was so tender, so gentle with the horse-not at all like the brash, hotheaded knight that I had seen so often in the past, or the sulky, sullen man who accompanied me on the rides. I wanted to watch him for a moment longer, and so I stood as still as I could, as close as I dared.



Guy proceeded to give the horse a gentle brush. There was very little mud on Fury as he’d been stabled for ten days, and I surmised that the brushing was more of a bonding exercise than a practical one. All the while, Guy kept up a steady flow of conversation with the horse, sometimes nonsense, sometimes not. Fury seemed to appreciate the attention and at every opportunity turned his long dark head around to face Guy, butting him affectionately on the shoulder. At one point, I was certain the horse had seen me, as he seemed to give me a slow, appraising glance.



“Get off, you stupid bugger,” Guy replied, the last time Fury made to head butt him. As Guy turned back to continue grooming him, I saw the briefest smile cross his face. Here was a man, I thought, truly at ease.



Not wishing to break the moment, I made to move away from the stable box and stole from the stable. Absurdly, part of me wanted to be involved in the situation I’d just witnessed-it was the first gesture of tenderness I’d seen since I’d been at Nottingham, but I knew that my very presence would restore Guy to the sullen character I’d seen so often. As I left, I couldn’t help reflecting that I’d intruded on a very, very private moment.