Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

«It must be very beautiful when the lit arrows shoot up into the sky and fall into the lake. They say that Loxley came up with this - somewhat pagan - rite ... Although what else to expect from him? Holy Mass?

A peculiar manifestation of mourning for the dead comrades and other victims ... of the conquerors. Now they are undoubtedly free, because no one will chain them up, throw them into prison, make them endure humiliation and abuse for a piece of bread and a roof over their heads for themselves and their families. Whether this is actually so is not important to anyone, everyone wants a fairy tale and an illusion.

And this, God forgive me, the King of Sherwood gives it, he does not care about the rest. However, this is his business, and I have mine here. Although there is no lake, but also a kind of commemoration».

A man with a bow stood almost at the very edge of the forest and watched the house and outbuildings burn, along with the barn, into which the grain harvest had just been brought. It was impossible to see his face under the hood, especially from such a distance. Although there was already no one to see his face ...

Two months ago

The thought came to Guy not immediately. Far from immediately. Despite the fact that he had already been in those places on business in the service of the abbot. And he didn’t seem to think anything like that ... But gradually he began to catch himself wanting to once again ride past, and then turn off the road and admire the view. And then one day, standing at the edge of the forest above this picturesque valley, Guy suddenly realized: he would like to live here. Have a home, but not like the family had in Stancliffe. Real home. A place where he will feel free and ... himself! A vague desire turned into a clear intention, but for some time he had no idea how to carry it out.

Until he saw a small house in the middle of this beauty, and a little later he made acquaintance with its owner - Godric Bradmoore.

Not to say that the house looked like a manor - more like a fairly neglected farm near the ruins of the castle: the Bradmoore family had long lost their former well-being, and the Jews willingly helped them in this. And with the death of the last of the sons in the Holy Land, the clan itself ended. But the house and buildings could be repaired, and over time, the donjon with other fortifications could be restored. If only Sir Godric agreed to cede this estate to him. For whom to store, if nothing is left of the family? After the death of Lord Bradmoor, everything went to the main creditor - the Jew Benzion with a very unusual surname. Either Schneckenschneider, or Stekenschreiner ... These are the names that are intricate in the German lands - you will break your tongue! In general, one such person lived in the Jewish quarter opposite the shop of some Talmons, either merchants, or jewelers, or also moneylenders, the devil will sort them all out ... So after the death of old Bradmoor, he received all the real property with a personal part of it . Rather, it was the crown that received the lands and the manor through him, and the Jew himself - only a couple of slaves, a horse with harness and weapons, and could then resell for a profit. But this is if someone else does not buy up the debts, of course, with all the official duties attached to the land. And for Guy, everything fell into place.

He pondered for a long time, figuring out this way and that, how things could be arranged to the general satisfaction. After all, old Bradmoore, having sold the manor, might not want to remain living in it on the rights of a life-long maintenance, when another one will host there. And Guy could perfectly understand him. So, it was necessary to find a suitable alternative for Sir Godric, both a place of residence and a livelihood ...

The main problem was that Guy did not have his own money. Borrow them? But to take from one Jew and give it to another Jew... Guy definitely did not like this scenario of events, because the alignment did not inspire confidence - he had already seen this, and it did not end in anything good. He had to figure out where else to get the money. Ask his lord? But such things... it is done personally and therefore he needs to go to Gloucester - and for a long time.

And he will not get such a vacation, given that a certain Son of Hern and a Hooded Man wound up in the royal forest. More precisely, the escaped poacher and the most ordinary robber Loxley called himself this, but the state of affairs did not change from this. And Guy was obliged to attend his new position. But no one freed him from the old one either, and he was simply torn between both services. And it doesn't matter that all the plans that the sheriff came up with to catch this impudent Saxon reptile invariably failed, and Guy had to deal with it. He is paid money for this. Which ones, it is better not to specify - a painfully sad story will come out.

In the end, the idea of contacting Abbe Hugo didn't seem so bad to Guy. And the fact that he was favorably listened to inspired confidence in the correctness of the decision made. The churchman agreed to lend, but demanded that the signing of all papers take place in the abbey, because he did not want to take the money to Nottingham. And he won't give them to Guy, he'll just deduct half of his forester's salary until the required amount is reached. Guy was not delighted with this - the condition greatly jarred him - but after a little thought, he realized that the abbot was right. And that would be the best thing indeed. And safer. It remains to persuade the sheriff. He, of course, had a lot of fun when Guy told him about the abbot's condition, and especially about the situation regarding money, but graciously agreed to come and draw up the papers.

A conversation with this same Benzion What-His-There the next day was also quite successful: the Jew turned out to be ready to sell debts, although, on reflection, why would he resist? However, he still made an attempt to raise the price. But then he wouldn't be a Jew if he didn't try. It remains to talk with Lord Bradmoor himself.

With this offer, Guy arrived a couple of weeks before Midsummer at Bradmoor Hall. He did not yet know, and even in a nightmare he could not dream how it would all end. But it started well, because the old man agreed to consider his proposal, and Guy was ready to discuss possible conditions.

They were sitting under a canopy in the garden behind the house and talking. A hunched slave woman hobbled over to bring them ale, freshly baked scones, and sheep's cheese. Lord Bradmoore apologized for not being able to arrange a proper meal and reception, but Guy didn't care whether he saw steins of ale on the table or silver goblets of French wine. And it doesn't matter who filed all this - a young maid or an old woman with rickety legs with a face covered in wrinkles and scars.

The main thing for him was something else - Sir Godric was not at all against the alternative proposed by Guy: after signing the papers, move under the care of the monastery. The old lord said that this was a great opportunity in the quiet of the monastery to take stock of his life and prepare for death.

They parted, to meet again a few days later, and leaving Bradmoor Hall, Guy went up the hill and stopped his horse once more. Admiring his future home from the edge of the forest, he was happy. From that moment on, he lived only in anticipation of the day when he would enter there as a rightful owner..

It took a couple of weeks to clarify the details of the contract and other trifles, among which was the condition that, upon taking possession of Bradmoor Hall, Guy undertakes to set free all the remaining slaves of Sir Godric if they want to receive this freedom. He agreed to it, as he would have agreed to something else. However, nothing special was required.

The signing of all the papers was to take place on St. Peter's Day in the abbey, where Guy and de Rainault had arrived the day before. In addition to them, quite a respectable audience, who had arrived at the monastery for the feast, had already gathered in the monastery hotel. It remained only to wait for Lord Bradmoor, but Sir Godric did not arrive on the appointed day. He did not show up the next day either.

Chapter Text

The rector of St. Mary's Convent unexpectedly descended on Nottingham on the eve of Midsummer. He rode on a horse and only with two guards, which was very strange in itself. He threw the reins to the running servant, grabbed the skirts of his cassock and cloak, and with a swift step went straight to the sheriff's office.

—Is Gisburne here?— he inquired in Frankish and poured himself some wine into a goblet from a jug on the table.

—I'm glad to see you in good health, my dear brother…— Robert de Rainault replied gloomily, also in Frankish.

—Yes, well?! Abbe Hugo snorted at this courtesy. —So Gisburne is here?

The Sheriff looked up from the papers on the table and put on a smile on his face, but it didn't work out too well:

— Gisburne isn't here, I sent him to Calverton on an errand... What has he done?

— Besides the fact that he intended to buy one estate, nothing. But you know his abilities,— the abbe replied and sat down in a chair a little to the side, sipping his goblet.

—That’s the point…—Robert de Rainault, sour, muttered in a single moment and also poured himself some wine.

—No, not in this, but in his intention, —objected to him the abbot. —We need to talk about this and do something urgently.

— And what do you suggest?

— I was hoping that you would offer an acceptable solution to the problem, since you consider yourself a person of statesmanship ...

Robert de Rainault grimaced as if he had taken a sip of vinegar:

—And what is your problem, my dearest brother?

— Primo - not mine, but ours. And you know what it is. Secundo - Robert, don't piss me off.

—God forbid!— the sheriff waved his hands in a picturesque manner. — Whoever makes you angry will not live until the morning. But how can I help? It's not a crusade.

—That's the point! I didn’t give a heavenly blessing then, but you didn’t sign the permission… But he didn’t have any money from the very beginning, and, accordingly, the campaign went up in smoke.

—To your great pleasure. But he still doesn't have any money, so I don't understand why you're twitching again.

—There is something. As for the money... don't worry about it, he'll find it quickly, as soon as all the papers are signed and he has the status of a landowner. And Earl William Fitz Robert will help him with this. And I will not risk refusing Gloucester, who will buy this estate for his vassal, because the bishop will skin me. Do you catch the train of my thought?

—Relax, Gloucester doesn't trade for small things.

—Undoubtedly... And especially when he finds out that this place, among other things, has the right to distribute beneficiaries. And considering that Nottingham is his son-in-law's estate..

—Yes, all this is bullshit! — the elder de Rainault waved his hand away, but suddenly thought:—So, how did you find out about the benefices? Is this serious?

— The bowels of the church archives, my brother Robert, store a lot of different information - and not only spiritual content. And I know how to dig deep.

—Uh-huh… and burying too… — the sheriff muttered under his breath and grabbed the tip of a goose feather with his lips. The case was indeed taking a difficult turn.

And his brother, meanwhile, continued:

— What do you think, Robert, will he still be dependent on his duty station after that, as he is now?

—If you think, dear brother, that he will be tempted by your handout in the form of a forester's salary, then you are very mistaken!

—Do you think he will be satisfied with what you have proposed? The so-called second-in-command position and your personal escort? When you're puffed up playing for the audience and puffing out your cheeks with smugness, thinking that you're giving him the opportunity to show off? No, it's just you showing off next to him, not him next to you. Robert, did you ever see his face at that moment? Or are you only interested in how you look in this situation? So, my dear, you look very sorry! As for the power that you supposedly can offer him, don't make me laugh - you will never share even the smallest fraction of it. It's nothing more than a carrot in front of a donkey's nose.

—Hugh, do you really expect to offer him the opportunity to make a career as a forester? Or is it spiritual? Do you think he will take the priesthood? How do you imagine it? To do this, you need to be a person of a slightly different warehouse and not depend on the voice of the flesh.

—You should also, Robert, not depend on the voice of the flesh. Especially since you can't marry Gisburne. Namely, getting married will be his next step.

—My dear brother, no one of the noble ladies will covet him. Especially considering all his endless women.

—And here you are wrong! And especially if he becomes, as they say, a land knight, his, as you put it, endless women will quickly become very finite, because right there there will be one for whom he will leave them all. And I assure you, if she is smart enough to turn a blind eye to some of her husband's little pranks, he will do anything for her. And you will lose your power over him.

—You too, Hugh! Moreover, you will never be able to marry him, no matter how much you want, and he won’t even let you…” and then the words stuck in the sheriff’s throat, because the tip of a sharp dagger rested on his chest. And Robert de Reno knew full well that his brother was a master of this weapon.

—You, too, can forget about his favor, he will never allow you ... —he hissed barely audible and added ominously:— And if you decide to show your power in this and try to force him ... And I will find out, Robert ! You can't hide it from me. So, I will not only excommunicate you from the church, I will leave you a couple more marks before that. Remember how you got your scars, hm? I can repeat. With pleasure.

A predatory smile appeared on his face, twisted with anger and hatred ... an even row of sharp teeth.

Robert de Renaud swallowed convulsively and carefully moved the tip of the dagger slightly to the side with his finger.

—Let's not fight, Hugh, better tell me what you're up to?

Cold, bulging eyes stared unblinkingly. Time seemed to turn into molasses...

— If you don’t have a single worthwhile thought, then listen to me carefully and do as I say…

Chapter Text

All the way back to Nottingham, Guy thought hard about what could have happened to Sir Godric, why he had not come. But the sheriff, tired of joking at the dejected look of his deputy, still did not let go to Lord Bradmoore and find out.

— We already spent a lot of time waiting for him.

— Maybe he got sick?

This could be the most likely reason, because Sir Godric is far from being young and often complained about feeling unwell in their conversations..

— After such words, I begin to worry about your health, Gisburne ... And it didn’t occur to you that he changed his mind?

— But why?

— What's the difference to you? The main thing is the fact.

Guy did not know how to explain to his superiors that there was a difference for him. And the most important thing is not a fait accompli at all - he just needs to know the reason and ... is there his fault in what happened?

It’s one thing when they refuse because it doesn’t fit, and no matter what you do, it won’t fit. And quite another, if they could agree, but he himself destroyed everything and did not notice it. It's happened before.

And, in addition to these unhappy reflections, he heard from the sheriff:

— Gisburne, don't you think that you are simply incapable of agreeing on even such a trifling matter? You just don't have the brains for this. Although what am I talking about? You don't have the brains to understand this. I have so many times had the extremely dubious pleasure of witnessing your utter incompetence on the most insignificant issues. And your attempts to cope with a handful of robbers are so pitiful that…— de Rainault broke off his irritated tirade, rolled his eyes in martyrdom and said with a heavy sigh:—Good God, for what sins did you send me such an assistant as a punishment?

Guy was embarrassed and blushed - the conversation was beginning to take on a very unpleasant look and direction - and yet he decided to make one last attempt to get permission from the sheriff to leave and find out what had happened:

— Allow me to go... I'll be back before sunset, my lord.

— No, Gisburne, I need you in Nottingham. I'm paying you money, not for you to run around aimlessly.

Guy realized with annoyance that now it was better to retreat and wait for a more convenient moment - and, as soon as free time appeared, take advantage of it. And no longer asking permission from the sheriff: after all, this is his personal business.

Waiting for the right moment was delayed for a week.

At Bradmoor Hall he was received very coldly, if not hostilely. The peasants grinned in his direction and contemptuously grimaced, only a shaky slave, frozen in the distance with a basket in her hands, looked at him sadly and with sympathy ... Strange.

At the sight of... let it be what was left of her face, Guy involuntarily grimaced. He met ugly ones, disfigured by disease or wounds, but such ... after all, you will dream in a dream, and you will wake up with a scream of horror. As if deliberately mutilated ... Why? Did you try to run away? But Guy did not ask these questions, he was interested in something else - and, bending down so as not to hit his forehead on the door beam, he entered the house ...

For several minutes Guy stared dumbfounded at Lord Bradmoor and could not understand what was happening. Finally, he almost pleadingly exclaimed:

—But why? Answer me!

— Yes, who do you think you are for this, snotty puppy, so that I answer you? Well, I'll tell you why

Then, remembering, Guy could not get rid of the thought that it was necessary to leave everything as it is, just turn around and leave, reconcile and accept, and not interfere and not insist. Yes, generally forget this damn question "Why?" After all, attempts to achieve an answer all his life ended badly. And these answers ... were too bitter. In general, he quite often had to choke on resentment and injustice, which is the worst thing - every time more and more.

And now too. It turns out that everything is simple, and the sheriff was right: Lord Bradmoore changed his mind. But he changed his mind because Guy is a Norman. That Saxon pride leapt up in the old man. What was the basis of their hatred and the struggle for the so-called freedom of England ... But knocked out of balance by the received answer, Guy could not believe that the reason was precisely this. It didn't fit in his head because...

— Yes, I am… a Norman! And you knew from the very beginning...

And all he got was:/p>

— Will you get off my land yourself, my lord of Gisburne, or would you prefer to return to Nottingham slung over your saddle?— Old Bradmoore chuckled softly in his face and winked. It would be better to hit with a whip, honestly.

He nodded towards the servants.

— I think my people will be happy to help you.

Several dirty Saxon peasants brazenly grinned, not hiding their triumph and looking forward to entertainment.

For a moment, the blood rushed to the face, but then subsided. Guy looked at Lord Bradmoor, his servants and thought that if he hit the freckled brute, then the rest would instantly pounce. But this particular sax will hit the joint and the head will crack like a clay pot. And the fight for him will end with his life, and he is the strongest here, the rest ... Here is the one, bow-legged, after meeting with the sword, he will stop glaring and grinning like a wolf. Well, let's say that Guy still has time to cut down two, but then what? Still, he can't resist.

They won't kill him, no, that's not their plan. But this is only, as the abbe says, secundo, if not tertia. Primo, on the other hand, lies in the fact of the murder of a representative of power, even if not at the moment on duty. This is already a felony. One of the sergeants of the garrison knows about the trip to Bradmoor Hall and, if anything, the search will start from Bradmoore. So they definitely won’t kill him here, in the most extreme case they will beat him, but this is also unlikely. Their intentions are much simpler and more disgusting: they frighten him with the fact that they will make him experience a very specific humiliation again..

But now Guy was hurt not by the possibility of repetition, but by the fact of Sir Godric's perfidy. And certainly not scary, because disgusting. And Bradmoore does not know about this difference and does not even guess. Therefore, wanting to get rid of him, he also hopes to humiliate him, because the mentioned prospect will be too painful for pride and self-esteem.

But there was one nuance, and the old lord did not take it into account: these humiliations no longer worked on Guy. After that time something broke inside, as if it had died ... And to beat on the already dead, in fact, is a so-so move.

Out of place and at the wrong time, it suddenly occurred to me that Loxley had made the same mistake then, on the lake. The impudent Saxon initially took a rather strange position, but in the story with the witch, he managed to push through the decision to torture Guy in this stinking swamp under the guise of nobility. Taking off Guy's pants, but leaving his shirt. Moreover, he was counting on a ransom. No, you can’t forbid dreaming, of course, but ...

The old man, watching Guy, seems to have realized that the threat did not have the desired effect. But he did not know why and twitched. And for Guy himself, an important thing suddenly became clear: even if he came here not alone, but with soldiers, even if he, in response to frank bullying and threats to his face, would force Lord Bradmoor to take back his words ... Even if ... Yes, there is no difference what kind of "if" would be - anyway, nothing can be changed. Everything became meaningless, because this house ... Guy lost it before he had time to find it! He initially did not want to get it by force, but to get it in another way, in something ... almost like winning the favor of a woman!

Then Lord Bradmoore said:

— Wouldn't it be better if you left yourself, Sir Guy?

The old man wanted to get rid of him, and preferably quickly, but he had no particular desire to order the grinning villans to throw out the guest by force. Or rather, he hoped to do without it. Did he take pity on his people? Or afraid of the consequences? But there will be consequences - and Guy will arrange them personally for him, Lord Bradmoore could not help but understand this.

But, anyway, there is nothing more to do here.

Guy silently turned around and walked out into the yard, where the faithful Fury was waiting. The groom was not there: most likely, he was simply afraid to approach the horse. Seeing the owner, Fury approached himself. After mechanically stroking his horse, Guy got into the saddle and rode out the gate.

Leaving Bradmoore's possessions, he climbed a small hill, stopped his Fury almost at the edge of the forest and looked at his unfortunate house for a long time, saying goodbye to him.

Chapter Text

The old man ordered his servants to leave and called out:

— Hey, Sorcha! Give me ale!

After a while, a rustle was heard, and a hunched figure in tattered clothes stepped out of the dimness of the room. The old servant hobbled slowly towards him, dragging her foot. He watched her with disdain. Finally, she stopped in front of him and, thrusting her hand into the bowels of her rags, suddenly brought out and handed him a small old silver mirror, darkened with time. He took it mechanically and growled irritably:

— Why did you bring me this? And where is my ale?

—Pour it yourself,— she answered him. — And the mirror… Look into it! What do you see there?

He threw the handed object aside and barked:

— Are you completely out of your mind? Get out of my sight, I'm sick of seeing you.

— Doesn't it make you sick of yourself, my lord?

— What are you about?— he was worried.

— About what has just been done. Made by you, brute!

— How you dare!

He wanted to hit her, but for that he would have had to get up from his chair, and he was not well: pain squeezed his temples, blood pounded in his ears

— Bite your tongue, you old hag!

— What will you do to me? he heard a calm answer. - Cut it off? You already disfigured my face when I tried to escape from you. Remember thirty years ago? You captured me at my father's house and offered to be your camping whore, but I refused. And when you tried to take it by force, I managed to protect myself because I was still able to hold a weapon in my hands. But you could not accept defeat, your offended vanity demanded satisfaction, and therefore you ordered me to put on the collar of a slave and dragged me behind my horse. But I ran away anyway - and far away - only, to my great misfortune, you caught me. And that's when you personally mutilated me and cut the tendon, crippling my leg, and now I can hardly move. I prayed to the Lord for death, but he did not hear ... And when the wounds healed, you gave me to your huntsman as a gift. And the servant turned out to be better than the master. Do you remember all this, Godric?

He raped her until he was exhausted, boasting in front of other such scoundrels whom he called to the performance. He furiously pounded into her vagina and anus ... Then his friends did it. She didn't remember how many there were. Consciousness was turbid, pain tore at her insides, but she tried to resist, even tried to bite off someone's ear, but it didn't work out. She only felt the bitter-salty taste of sweat in her mouth, the crunch of her hair and something sticky ... She vomited, and the bitterness of bile interrupted the taste of blood and sweat. It was followed by a curse and a punch in the face. It seems that he was not alone, she did not remember exactly, but then several of her teeth were knocked out.

While she was coming to her senses and choking on her own blood, Sir Godric heated the knife... Those terrible wounds on her face were half burns. The blade boiled into the skin, it bubbled, it smelled of burnt flesh. Her own scream was in her ears. And when unconsciousness rolled in, Godric Bradmoore poured water over her, bringing her to herself, and continued torturing her. After having fun, he hung her by the leg upside down and left it like that for several hours. She prayed for death, but no one heeded her. And instead of saving madness, her tormentor came. She had to relive that nightmare again. And then again and again...

Godric Bradmoore broke her, tore out with blood and flesh everything that made her herself, a human being. At first, she could not find the strength to kill herself. She was being watched. And then my husband didn't. When she gave birth to children - a real miracle, after what they did to her - she changed her mind about killing herself and lived for them. Slowly she collected the trampled and torn bit by bit, and again raised herself as a person on the scorched earth of her soul. And she remembered ... she remembered everything. But she did not understand why she did not die then? And why did the Lord turn away from her?

— Have you been silent all these years? Here, continue on.

— I have remembered the past all these years. But I'm talking about the present, Godric. This young man was ready to sell his soul for your half-ruined barn. He accepted all your terms. Why did you do this to him?

— It's none of your business! I changed my mind.

— You didn't do it yourself. You were forced to change your mind. And this is just understandable. You were just scared of the sheriff, who had you pinned against the wall with your debts. Do you have any idea who he bought them from? And if he bought them at all. And you wanted to live out your days in peace and die in bed, and not in a ditch ... I can understand all this, but why did you play a farce in front of this young man? And didn't tell him the truth that the sheriff forced you to sign papers in exchange for a cell in his brother's monastery and a funeral mass? Do you seriously think to justify yourself by saying that he would not understand you? Don't make me laugh, Godric Bradmoore, I know you too well for that. Studied the length and breadth of your vile soul. What do you want after so many years? So why didn't you tell him the truth?

— And I told him the truth! The fact that he does not accept it is his problem. This chump…

She sighed heavily.

—It's you. And to feel like a person, you definitely need to mix someone with shit. Then it was me. Then - your wife, whom you brought to the grave in three years. Then - your sons, who fled from you on a crusade. And now you've done it to him. Did you get better? Would you like to end your days in peace? So I will not give, do not count. And to scare me with reprisals against my children and husband will not work. There is none of them.

— What are you going to do, you old hag? Tomorrow the sheriff's steward arrives here, and I'm moving to St. Mary's Convent and hope to never see your ugly face again for the rest of my days.

— You can run away from me, but not from yourself and not from God, Godric. I pity you.

And she hobbled out of the room. The clay mug shattered against the door behind which the old woman had disappeared.

— Have pity on yourself, you damn Scottish witch!

Chapter Text

All the way to Nottingham, Guy thought about why all this happened, and did not understand what he had done wrong. Rather, he asked himself the question, maybe it's only his fault? But it didn't come up with anything.

Yes, he was refused - and this he could try to explain and, in the end, come to terms with. But the point was different: he did not understand why they did not do it right away? Why did they agree to his proposal in the first place? After all, they gave him hope. And took away.

Wanted to play with the desire of the laughingstock of the whole county to have a house? Moreover, the offer was his own, well, how can you not take advantage of it? God himself ordered! Apparently, the way it was, but he, a fool, did not guess right away..

His heart was breaking with pain and grief of loss, the same as he experienced when his stepfather - but for everyone a father - deprived him not only of his inheritance, bequeathing the manor to the Bishop of York, but also of the feelings of the family. He said that Guy was not even Gisburne at all, but the bastard is unknown from whom.

And now Guy has lost his house again, despite the fact that on paper he did not own it for a day. This crooked barn on the ruins of the castle has taken root in the depths of his soul and heart. Guy understood that this was only an illusion and it was impossible to do so ... But with her, his life acquired meaning. This illusion became a reality for him, and not the service, not all the shit that was going on around him and made up his existence - if not entirely, then nine-tenths for sure. And now she was taken away, and with her - a chance for a new, happier life, the opportunity to find a decent mate and create a normal family, and not what he had. Finally, it was a chance to eventually get rid of the hated service of the sheriff. Yes, by and large, on ... everything!

Yes, Guy knew that he would be looking for another, but first he had to somehow cope with the loss of this. And faster. It's a pity he doesn't have a rich arsenal.

Before returning to the castle, he stopped his horse at the Fox and Rooster inn and ordered brandy to be brought to him. Having paid the owner, Guy immediately uncorked the bottle. And under the astonished glances of those present, he tipped three-quarters of the vessel with this liquid fire into his empty stomach..

And in the castle, he, ignoring the venomous remarks of de Rainault, staggered up to his room and collapsed on the bed. He now wanted only one thing: to fall asleep and not wake up..

Is it worth to say it didn't work?

The next morning, a terrible hangover and a sheriff's hysteria awaited him, since Robin Hood again arranged something and some girl came to complain about harassment and demand compensation ..

As for Robin Hood, Guy wasn't surprised in the least. What did the sheriff want? It's Loxley, natch! With these his cries about .. Ah! Rights and justice for the glory of England and the Saxons! And also freedom from the Norman conquest and other independence.

His declarations do not correspond to the acts and the chosen means of achieving the goal absolutely! He only shamelessly poachers and steals everything that he sees and is not nailed to the songs about the freedom of England. And he got everyone he could reach with robberies. This is where his arms are long.

Well, it is clear that the peasants help him in some way, and the servants in the castle also willingly report ... But there must be someone else! Find out who his patrons really are... Well, don't take this... Herne seriously? This is who here is considered the God of Fertility and this inexhaustible ... how is it? masculine strength. And Loxley, then, is his son. Well, well.

And at this thought, Guy really got angry, because this ... at the sight of this dirty as hell hybrid of a garden scarecrow with a rat that came to complain about him for harassment, he shuddered with disgust. This is how much he needs to starve and how much to drink to ...? Glancing at this girl, he irritatedly said that this was some kind of mistake again. De Renault, of course, did not fail to make a couple of stinging jokes, but Guy did not care.

No, well, how to explain this mysterious phenomenon? What the hell, local peasant women do not go to Hern's cave and his son's camp to satisfy their lust? For some reason, the girls are counting on a completely different person in this, namely on him - Guy of Gisburne! And how many times has he already received such hints and even direct offers that he has lost count.

Yes, no doubt, the process is pleasant and a couple of times, even before serving with the sheriff, Guy took advantage of the chances that turned up. And all because what was offered was so tempting that even the saint could not resist! In short, he had excuses. The result, however, was the same as now - they came to complain about it.

No, on the one hand, the complaint could be understood - perhaps one of those girls was pregnant and now demanded compensation. So, if she had come to him, he would have paid her this compensation and the case was closed, but these girls then came to the abbot. And now they got into the habit of going to the sheriff.

But on the other hand, what then, what now, Guy did not understand why these were not the same peasant women at all? Those who then lifted their skirts themselves and whom he personally “dishonored”, he remembered both in person and in ... In short, he remembered well! These didn't look like them at all.

And he still could not understand why there were many more of these complainers? He hasn't forgotten how to count yet. Although according to the sheriff he never knew how.

But one way or another, and taking into account all these circumstances, Guy's desire to send another dirty peasant woman flirting with him to Herne and his son became stronger and more irresistible. Moreover, he had a couple of familiar girls who were very pleasant to look at and touch, who often brightened up his free time...

Therefore, when a certain “herbalist” named Janet decided to agree “amicably”, Guy only snorted contemptuously and refused such a prospect. And the witch did not forget it to him ...

In general, all these claims spoiled Guy's life. Not in the same way as Robin Hood, of course, but also nothing good.

Guy has long wanted to ask this “King Sherwood” and concurrently the Son of Herne, what are they themselves shirking from this business? And listen to what they say... And then how to blame him, Guy of Gisburne, for everything .... As if there was no one else in the whole county? He, what, for everyone here ... should? Primo - not for everyone. Secundo - this is not part of his duties as a sheriff's deputy. In the duties of the manager and forester at the monastery - too. And he didn't sign up for it, and he doesn't get paid for it. Tertia is not him, but Loxley and his dad are here for everyone, God forgive me, the official “givers” of fertility and male power, so let them work too ...

And Guy's thoughts flowed in another direction, he once again promised himself to find out what kind of horned effigy this was. And what does it have to do with some pagan god Cernunnos, about whom he read in Roman chronicles, when he was still a page with the Gloucesters. The fact that these are two different characters, he had no doubt. It's just that someone who at one time concocted this fairy tale about Herne for local peasants, for the sake of entourage and representativeness, dragged in a legend about that same Cernunnos.

And the current one ... well, who is sitting in Sherwood Forest, brazenly took advantage of that tale. But why the hell is this, God forgive me, a deity inciting people to rebellion and rebellion against the legitimate royal power? Something doesn't add up here. Because the struggle for independence is one thing, and the question of faith is another, and they are not connected with each other. No way.

Surely a rebellion with a riot is the idea of one of the local Saxon lords. They say that there were precedents more than once. Actually, there is one candidate ... also pride over the edge. In Staffordshire, his nest. Someone Fitz Od.

But if Guy does not get to the legend of the Celts - the one from the Roman records, because he does not exist and cannot exist, then the local horned "deity" can be caught, interrogated with predilection and find out who incited him to this case. Unfortunately, it did not work out yet, but Guy did not lose hope.

Only here in this story with Loxley, his "father" and all the pandemonium with robberies under the sauce of fighting for freedom, there was something strange and suspicious. One might even say diabolical. Namely, very incomprehensible things happened from time to time. The most mysterious of them happened when Guy accompanied the sheriff's bride to Nottingham, and the Son of Herne decided to profit from the dowry of Mildred de Brassy ...

Guy came to his senses only being up to his ears in the mud of the swamp for the company of Loxley. How he ended up there, he could not remember until now, but he tried! The last thing that remained in his memory was that he grabbed the reins of Lady Mildred's mare, and before they could ride a dozen yards, a cold clawed paw squeezed his heart, pain twisted his insides, and fog swam before his eyes. All.

Then suddenly - a swamp, Loxley's muzzle and his eyes. There was something about them… Guy felt very uncomfortable then. It's like looking into hell. But he still tried to grab this thief, but he ran away. And, as soon as Loxley safely slipped away, everything was gone at once. What it was, Guy could never explain to himself. No matter what the assumptions are.

In addition, he was very embarrassed by the periodically arising strange sensations when traveling through Sherwood. As if the road is about to leave from under the horse’s feet, or you won’t understand how you ended up in a completely different place. It’s like the devil is stirring up, but this has never happened before - it all started with this Herne.

Yes, and Loxley himself ... Is that what's wrong with him? Well, besides robbery, poaching and other indecency - like the fact that he considers himself a king and the son of a god? the devil only knows what kind of person he is and where he came from! No, it is clear that he lived in the adopted sons of this mill rat Matthew, but how did he get there? Are these tales that his real father was the keeper of the arrow true? They, at least, could explain the cries of freedom and independence with justice, but other mysterious, strange and suspicious things did not fit into this

But Guy still needs to catch him - and Herne too. In what order doesn't matter..

Although, to be honest, looking at all this farce, one would have to say that a family of crazy people has settled in the forest. Because no one in their right mind and sober memory will consider himself a king or a god. It's a self-evident thing!

Well, they sat down and let them choke - and to hell with them! Pin a warning sign at the entrance to the forest - that's all. True, they will steal it right there ... In short, stop wasting energy, nerves and time on these crazy people.

Only here's another self-evident thing was that the sheriff here - not a ram sneezed, but the royal governor, and Guy himself is his deputy. From this fact came the obligation to restore order and observe the law, which the Son of Hern and his comrades and dad violate - and seriously. One poaching is worth something, and there is still robbery and a call to rebellion. Here Guy also tried to observe this law and to resist. To the extent of his modest powers and abilities. But to be completely honest, he had long wanted to send everyone to the devil, in company with the abbot.

But they sent him, however, as always. On a raid around Wickham. With a well-known result, which is typical, there is no other. Guy has already come to terms with this fact, but the sheriff has not yet, or he was pretending - it doesn't really matter

Many troubles and sorrows for Guy resulted from this source, but none of them could be compared with the event that happened soon. Yes, literally the day after the raid on Wickham. One thing is good - in this foul village they managed to spoil the robber of his eternally cheerful mood, albeit not for long.

Chapter Text

Guy was riding through the Jewish quarter when he saw Benzion What's-His-There among the passers-by. The usurer also noticed him and, famously turning around, ran quite briskly down the street in the direction of his own house. And this despite obesity, age and robes to the floor. The Jew clumsily tried to maneuver between passers-by, but he didn’t really succeed: he even knocked down a couple of slow-moving ones that got in the way. He quickly disappeared from view, rounding the corner of the house into his lane. Rather strange behavior for a law-abiding and respectable resident of the city, albeit a Jew. Even suspicious.

Guy got to the abode of this Benzion, dismounted and, taking hold of a healthy copper ring on the door, knocked it on an equally massive stand. He knocked hard so that they would definitely hear - and not only in the house.

Immediately, a frightened female voice sounded from behind the door, apparently belonging to the daughter of the pawnbroker. She asked carefully who had come and why. Having received an answer, she stated that she was very sorry, but her father was not at home, and he would arrive only in a week, and without him she would not open the door: when he left, he strictly forbade it.

Guy sighed heavily at this blatant lie. To arrange a scandal here in the middle of the street with breaking doors? And what is there to break? This is a rotten misunderstanding, not the door. And he will take it out right away, but ... The fact that the old man is hiding from him for some reason, shamelessly putting his daughter as a shield, is understandable to the goat. But with ladies, even Jewish ones, one must be polite and observe decency, at least some ...

Guy had to tell her aloud that he would come to settle his business after her father returned. She and the rest of the neighbors didn't need to know about his intentions to return in the evening. But in the evening it was not possible to do just that, because the sheriff spent the rest of the day and until the very night shaking the nerves of his deputy and sending him with some small assignments.

Guy got out to visit Benzion only the next morning and found the shutters of his house tightly closed, and a hefty lock on the doors. And there was no that copper ring. So, the Jew ran away and took the knocker in the shape of a lion's head.

Guy had to look to the neighbors and ask if they knew where Benzion had gone. This is how Guy met papa de Talmont and his lovely daughter, having found out that their neighbor Steckenschneider had long complained about the health, the atmosphere and the worthless local food, especially fruits. His health invariably deteriorated with the onset of the harsh Nottingham winters, and each time "poor Benya" barely survived. And now his daughter, the only consolation of the senile heart, has already begun to have problems with health. This was the last straw for the unhappy Benzion.

And he, Joshua de Talmont, understands Benzion's departure better than anyone: he himself would have done it long ago, because his own eldest daughter, unfortunately, also has very fragile health and suffers endless colds in the cold season. How sick she was in the winter - it is impossible to imagine! So far, she has not come to her senses. Involuntarily, one will agree with the luminaries of medicine, who declare: nothing exhausts and destroys a person more than an inappropriate climate and harmful miasma in the atmosphere. After all, my lord deputy sheriff himself knows what terrible winters are in Nottingham - and, alas, summer is no exception.

Giving some empathy to his face, Guy assented that the climate here was really not just terrible, but very terrible, and he also perfectly understands about the atmosphere, especially in the heat. And at the same time he tried to find out where the sick Benzion went in search of warmth, mild winters and juicy fruits for himself and his daughter. Turned out to be in Durham. To this, Guy decided to ask if the venerable de Talmont knew since when the blessed lands of Northumbria acquired a Provencal climate, but he did not receive an intelligible answer. And his interlocutor preferred to quickly get rid of further conversation, citing concerns about the family and so on..

Returning to the castle, Guy thought about all this and came to the conclusion that the matter was obviously unclean. It would be possible, of course, to go in pursuit and shake the soul out of a Jew along with answers to questions of interest ... But how to justify your act to the sheriff? De Reno would not give him a soldier or a vacation - and Guy understood this perfectly well. To go in pursuit now and without the knowledge of the sheriff meant to get himself unnecessary and great trouble. And everyone and sundry is already reporting on him to de Reno. And it would be nice if the truth! Such stories are told that at least sell to minstrels.

It turns out that Guy will have to retreat, but this does not mean at all that that Benzion cannot be caught later. A Jew from the German lands in England is a rather rare game: it is not the Elphics-Sadrics-Godrics and Toms-Jims-Jacks, which are a dime a dozen around here. So Guy will definitely find him and find out what the hell is happening, but as soon as everything calms down a little.

Not calmed down - another surprise awaited him in the castle. And not to say that an extraordinary thing happened: he just stumbled upon parchment leaves, hemmed into a book. It was just in the secretary's room, prepared for the archive, along with the coroners' rolls. And it was strange: cases should be handed over only next month. And that, if not postponed for some reason.

But he got into the book because he was looking for the right entry and did not want to disturb the chaplain and part-time personal secretary de Renaud. The poor fellow was poring over some cunning document and before that he tearfully begged him not to distract him. So Guy decided to look at the interesting thing himself, since he still knows how to read and write too, no matter how they think about it and treat it. He saw what he did not want at all. Yes, life would be easier without this knowledge.

It turns out that when old Bradmoor, spitting and waving his arms, was talking about the pride and freedom of the Saxons and “never the Norman conqueror - a bastard without nobility and honor - will become the master here while he is still alive” ... his manor was the property of the de Reno family. Sheriff personally. Norman in the land of the Saxons has already become a sovereign master. Guy understood the reason why the Jew fled.

The fact that they pay him as the last ... This could still be understood, justifying the pathological greed of both brothers. And the fact that in other circumstances they manage to "grab with both their mouth and their ass" is a generally recognized, and the incident with the dowry of the failed bride of Robert de Rainault is a brilliant confirmation of this. Everyone has already come to terms with this. Guy too.

And whose idea was it? The sheriff? And if ... Guy then was still surprised that the abbot suddenly rushed to Nottingham on Midsummer Day. Why? After all, if it were not for a random phrase of one of the soldiers of the garrison, then Guy would not have known about the visit. And the churchman too easily agreed to give money. And the conditions on which he did this fit perfectly into the picture of the crime. Comparing the facts, Guy seriously thought about the question of which of the brothers was actually the ideological inspirer. Robert de Rainault became the owner of the estate, and he also scared the Jew, but who came up with everything? Abbot Hugo? He could, and how! The antics of the churchman often baffled, amazing the imagination. That's who would rule the county with an iron fist. Yes, and England would not be enough for him!

But what's the point now? After all, it was not Hugo de Rainault who ended up with Bradmoor Hall, but his brother. Guy could not understand why this piece of land with a collapsed house suddenly became so valuable for both de Rainault that they clung to it like cats to a ball of wool? They took advantage of the opportunity to seize the estate and humiliate their deputy at the same time, making a fool out of them? Or is there something else here, and the manor is just a screen?

But Guy was more tormented by a completely different question: did they really think that he would never know about what they had done to him? It's impossible - sooner or later the truth will come out. Already. Or will he not compare the dates, or will such a fool not understand what he read? If so, they have seriously miscalculated.

What if his knowledge of this fact was part of their plans? They probably wanted to see his reaction and laugh at possible protests and impotence to change anything. This means that he will have to pretend that he has no idea ... After all, in fact - he can’t do anything!

To resist, he must sue. And this is primo. But who to apply for? Sheriff, right? Or wait for the king's traveling judge and county curia? Or straight to London? Well, he will prepare the papers himself as an attorney - fortunately he has experience. And he will even bring them where he should, but ... What kind of lawsuit will he file and what can he present as arguments at the court itself? After all, for everyone, Lord Bradmoore simply changed his mind, and he has a right to it, and Guy was almost denied even the right to ask why - let alone resent such a failure to comply with the agreements. But after all, no signatures were put, and, therefore, this is not a covenant. File a claim for the protection of agreements without signatures and seals? Oh, it will be a new word in English jurisprudence - the precedent of Guy of Gisburne.

But seriously, getting involved in this swamp, who should be called witnesses to the court? Sir Godric's slaves? This impudent mob? Or that old slave woman? Abbe, perhaps? Yes, no one will come, and if they come, they will say what and how they are told. And it is clear that this commanding will not be Guy! And it's impossible to punish the bastards!

secundo: the question is, who is the defendant in the case? Benzion Stackenschneider? So he is more of a witness, this Jew, who jumped faster than a hare all the way to Durham or somewhere else.

He sold Bradmoor's debts to the highest bidder if... Knowing the de Rainault brothers, one can assume that the Jew was the victim of blackmail and was forced to give just like that. In this case, it is worth trying to find him and drag him to your side. That's just a hasty flight testifies to considerable fear ... Who is he more afraid of? The sheriff or him, Guy of Gisburne? It is clear that both of them, and each for their own reasons. That's just de Rainault - clearly more. No, it is unlikely that a Jew will be an assistant in this matter.

Or perhaps Lord Bradmoore will be the defendant? After all, it was he who had to sign the papers in the presence of the sheriff and the abbot.

But even to spit in the face of the true Saxon Sir Godric for - Guy did not know what to call it - did not work.

The next day, Guy, with a stone expression on his face, was able to keep up appearances before the sheriff, but was forced to go to the monastery of St. Mary to the abbot. At the same time, he found out that Lord Bradmoore did not have time to live in the monastery for even a week - he died, a mangy goat. And he appeared before the court of the highest authority - God. But that won't help Guy. In fact, the old man hovers suspiciously quickly, even suddenly. And somehow just in time. It is, of course, understandable that he is already old, infirm, often ill, and so on ... But such people are able to successfully creak for many more years before they give their soul to God. Has the abbot put his toad's paw to this? But he could. And there will be no investigation.

Guy thought about turning to Gloucester for help, but ... What does the earl care about the petty problems of the most insignificant of his vassals?

There are no funds, no strength, no support for all these litigations. And this, as the abbot likes to say, so that the devils would not let him sleep at night, and there are primo, secundo and tertia.

Yes, Guy will have to continue to face both de Rainault and keep up appearances, because he serves here and must. Yes, for pennies, but it serves, so it should be all the same.

And even pretend to be a fool ... However, he will have to do this in any case. He had a suspicion before, but now it has turned into absolute certainty. So it’s better to start right away, it will save energy and time. And if it’s good to pretend, then, perhaps, the saying about luck for fools will work on him? At least that's if there's no other luck.

Yes, he cannot send the sheriff and the abbot to hell, break loose and look for a job somewhere else: now he has, at least almost a beggarly, but relatively stable salary, on which his family depends. It consists only of a mother, but, unfortunately, this, God forgive me, does not stop being a family and does not cancel her needs. Yes, they, for the first time in several years, finally live without debt! And apart from this salary, Guy simply has no other livelihood. He needs a corner where, if something happens, there will be an opportunity to lie down and recover a bit. Yes, and occasionally something to eat would also be nice.

Well, if in extreme cases he himself survives somehow, not for the first time, then Fury ... The horse requires certain conditions of detention, and there is a risk of losing it - the only valuable and truly dear to the heart. But in order to provide the horse with these conditions, and not just a decent reforging and a stall where it does not drip from the roof, unfortunately, money is needed. Without work, there will be no money. He will not find a new place soon - with his reputation and fame that he was given here. And if he finds it, it is very pitiful and insignificant. With your own detachment it would be easier, but there was none. Well, maybe one of the soldiers will agree to serve him, but the equipment costs money, and it’s even ridiculous to stutter about armor, at least for yourself - just old chain mail and a helmet. And to be honest, no one needs Guy...

But do the sheriff and his brother really think that he does not understand their actions and attitude towards him? They, having thrown a penny, try to squeeze out everything that is possible and impossible, along the way accusing him of the inadequate quality of what is required. Yes, he understands, he is only silent - or rather, he is forced. And he does what he can, what is in his power, what circumstances allow. He himself took on this responsibility, agreed to the conditions, because he has no other means of subsistence. But the most vile thing in this situation is that he does not have the strength to go against it. You can’t deceive yourself - he is scared, he is alone, without help, without support and without protection.

Yes, he is powerless before the de Rainault brothers... But not absolutely! Someone not so long ago pretended to be Guy of Gisburne and considered it a holy right, and even his personal one. After all, it was nothing but the glory of justice, retribution and other things that warm the soul. Well, so be it. But, on the other hand, he, Guy of Gisburne, also now has this very right. And, if you look closely, it is quite fair, not to mention retribution. And just then, a great opportunity was formed. And after all, he doesn’t even need to invent anything himself - everything has already been invented, so you can take it and use it. Just wait for the right moment.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Guy met that old woman again a few days later when he was driving from the abbey. Hugo de Rainault got into the habit of summoning him there, taking advantage of his position - Guy was still serving him. The sheriff didn't like that. But didn’t want to quarrel with his brother once again, since he was distinguished by rare rancor and no less rare vindictiveness. Quite sophisticated as well.

For some reason, the churchman did not believe in Robin Hood and wanted to get to the bottom of the truth - that is, to find out who had deprived him of the harvest from the Bradmoore fields. The abbot's suspicions fell on Baron Fitz Odd, with whom he had contrived to quarrel violently not long before. Not the first time already. The scandal was around some patch of land along the river near Edwinstowe.

The piquancy of the situation was that it was Guy who had to find the intruder. He supported these abbatial suspicions in every possible way, but from his own considerations. And he honestly portrayed his activities, simultaneously trying to find out if this Baron was patronizing Loxley. But alas, more no than yes.

The abbot… Apparently, Hugo de Rainault really wanted Guy to find the unknown shooter, and for this he was ready for anything. Even to courtesy towards Guy himself and ... damn it, he promised money so that he would choke on them! He even offered to drop everything and go back, promising a banneret knight's salary. But, no matter how much Guy needed the money, no matter how tempting the conditions were ... After what the de Rainault brothers had done? Never.

And, it seems, Abbot Hugo felt that the promises were useless. The pleasantries immediately ended, and the hostility returned. You should have seen those fish eyes: you could kill with that look. One thing is good - the churchman was silent at the same time, as he took water in his mouth. But it’s bad that Guy couldn’t get away from the search itself, but he tried.

However, all this mess gave some advantages: he could not report to the sheriff about the service of the abbot and along the way settle his affairs. But Hugo de Rainault seems to have begun to suspect that the archer could not be found. Sooner or later, he would simply stop looking and everything would return to normal. And, on the one hand, it would be more likely already.

It was in these reflections that Guy stumbled upon that woman not far from Redhill. It gets dark early in the forest, and it took him a couple of moments to make out her hunched figure in rags at the edge of the forest. She was dragging her leg along the middle of the road, ten yards ahead of him.

—My lord Gisburne! You remember me?

He was so surprised that he even stopped his horse. He remembered her for the rest of his life: although his memory for faces was not very good, you will never forget such marks and circumstances.

—What are you doing here?

— I'm waiting for you.

—What for? —he sincerely did not understand what this old woman might need from him, especially here.

She got a little closer, keeping her eyes on him:

— I forgot to say something about the hooded man…

Honestly, Guy felt a little uncomfortable, he frowned and said briefly:

—Talk.

She came very close to him and suddenly put her hand with twisted knotted fingers on the neck of his horse, and he, usually intolerant of such things from strangers, did not even twitch. Guy was both startled and even more alarmed.

— I wanted to add that these are the best shots I have ever seen, my lord. All of them were full of just retribution, which Sherwood Robin Hood never dreamed of ... — and then smiled: — I immediately recognized you.

He so hoped that he managed to leave a false trail, but it did not work out. However, this old woman could... No, now he definitely wanted to know:

—Why didn't you betray me? They would have had a lot of fun, not to mention the possibility of being charged with a felony.

— Revenge. They got what they deserved... These Villans, too. And you would have been a much better lord to them than old Godric, and even more so than… you know who. But even he will not evade fate and retribution ... in due time. And Bradmoore has already paid, I took care.

Guy frowned. So... the old goat didn't die on his own and not by accident? But how did she do it? However, this question immediately ceased to excite him - as well as the fact that the old woman had committed a crime according to the law. Only he was not going to blame her for this, because he did not regard her act as murder: rather, on the contrary, just retribution. He did not know the reasons, but somehow he was sure of their exceptional seriousness.

And he just grumbled:

— Didn't work out.

He thought to himself that the de Rainault brothers are unlikely to face retribution, but it would be nice.

Guy, sighing heavily, picked up the reins and prepared to ride on. And she grabbed the horse's mane and said softly, looking straight into his face:

— This is not your fault. But can you be my lord for a moment? Do not refuse a small request ...

— Money?

— No, it's different...

— What? And if it's in my power...

— In your… Kill me.

— I don’t understand…— he was dumbfounded. He did not expect this at all.

— I'm tired of living: I've seen too much of what I wouldn't wish on anyone. I have no one else and no need to force myself to live on. My sons and my husband are long gone. I don't need the so-called freedom that your sheriff gave me... Yes, and he gave it, if only not to feed extra mouths. We've all been kicked out. We were free to go where we pleased. Someone was sheltered in the abbey, someone ... I don’t have a home, I still won’t survive the winter. My lord, have mercy...

She knelt beside his horse's hooves. Without realizing why he was doing this, he dismounted.

— I... can't.

— You can. You have… You won’t understand Gaelic, which is a pity… but in English it’s called a mercy punch.

—Coup de grace.

— That's what it sounds like in your language! I beg you, knight, gather mercy in your heart and strike!

He looked at her for a while, and then muffled:

— Do you want this to be here?

— What's the difference where? You can move a little to the side.

— But you will lie ... in the forest, without a cross, you will become the prey of the beast ...

She didn't answer him, she just looked at him silently. Like a god. No one had ever looked at him like that, and he was afraid. And then, clinging to the stirrup, she struggled to her feet. He spontaneously helped her straighten up. She took his hand and pulled him along with her. She had a very warm hand, he did not pull out his and followed her. After ten yards she stopped:

— Here's a good place.

— But…

— My homeland is far away,— she explained,— with all my desire, I will not be able to reach it to die there. If my bones lie not in the land of Scotland, on the shores of Tweed dear to the heart, then what difference does it make where? Please, my lord, grant me death.

— What is your real name? You are… not a peasant woman.

— Yes, you're right, but why do you need my name? It ... has long been forgotten and cursed by the owner herself.

— I want to know. Just to… pray for the innocent victim. And tell the name to the priest... for the Mass.

— No, knight. I betrayed my clan and homeland by the fact that I stopped fighting, resigned myself to shame and could not take revenge ... But let it be as you wish. My name is Sorcha, the unworthy daughter of the Haig clan of Bemersade, my family has lived there since time immemorial and the motto has always been "Whatever happens." Now you know my name, get started.

He shook his head.

— I... can't.

He really could not: it was almost physically painful for him after all he had heard to fulfill her request.

And she knelt before him again.

— You can, knight, you can! I should have died long ago. Thirty years ago, during the storming of the castle, which was defended by my brothers and father.

In the approaching twilight, it suddenly seemed to him that her face had become younger - as if a light forest breeze had blown away everything she had lived and experienced over the years. Disappeared ugly scars and deep wrinkles, gray hair and tangles turned into a magnificent mop of blond hair. The transparent eyes of a very beautiful girl looked at him. She was waiting.

How much time had passed, Guy did not know, but the haze disappeared, and everything returned to its place. He swallowed with difficulty the lump in his throat and, barely moving his tongue, whispered:

— Are you ready?

Stupid question. This woman, asking him for death, has long been dead in her soul and, in fact, begged him for freedom. And now she just smiled back and nodded.

The sword is a weapon of nobility and honor, and it doesn't matter what the first scoundrel of Nottingham holds in his hands for everyone. But the last robbers also use it, only this does not change the state of affairs. A sharp and direct piercing blow from the sternum on the left - and the goal is achieved. And - through the crunch of thin ribs and the champing of flesh that has taken the blade:

—Bless ...... you ...Go... d ...

He was kneeling there in front of the old woman he had killed, reciting a prayer for the dead, and did not see that someone was looking at him for a long time and attentively, even with some curiosity, from the shade of the trees ... And then the horned figure barely audibly grunted something , seemingly approvingly, and disappeared — as if it were not.

Chapter Text

Robin of Loxley watched thoughtfully as the familiar figure of a horseman in a blue cloak retired along the forest path. What was Gisburne doing in the forest at this time and alone? Nothing but a nasty thing. Should have followed him. And find out what's going on.

The other day it was said that he, Robin of Loxley, burned down one estate and killed everyone there. What nonsense! Yes, indeed: Bradmoor Hall burned down and the unfortunate peasants are dead, and we still have to seriously understand what happened there. But blame everything on him? Herne's son? Robin Hood? Defender of their rights and freedoms? This is an insult!

And it doesn’t matter that the estate now belongs to the sheriff, and with the house and buildings, the entire crop promised to the abbey burned down, and harming de Rainault is a sacred thing for Robin Hood

He, Robin Loxley, has nothing to do with it!

It was also rumored that Gisburne seemed to be coveting these lands... Why would this happen all of a sudden? Is there not enough manor in Lancaster? Although, they say, he went to Bradmoor Hall, met with the old lord ... Or was the deputy sheriff just arranging the purchase of the estate for de Reno? Most likely, it was so - however, it does not matter.

But, unfortunately, it has not yet been possible to really find out who "worked" there and who slandered Robin himself. But he will definitely do it. And even then he will personally hang the bastard who dared to blame the murders of innocent peasants on him! One thing is good - the inhabitants of other villages did not particularly believe in this nonsense, but the sheriff and his brother were imbued with the idea ...

No, Hugo de Reno in this case turned out to be a tough nut to crack and didn't really believe in the version about the Hooded Man. In fact, he didn't believe it at all. And, apparently, he decided to get to the bottom of the truth by starting an investigation. And now the churchman is still chasing his steward to catch the criminal who deprived him of grain. Well, as they say, God help you.

And Gisburne was now returning to Nottingham from St. Mary's after all his searches? Very similar to that. And for sure - to no avail, which is not surprising, with the complete absence of Norman's brains.

Yes, Guy of Gisburne was the last person to fill the position of deputy sheriff, but, by an obscure twist of fate, he was the one who held it.

Herne, have mercy! There was absolutely no limit to his stupidity, and Robin himself witnessed this unfortunate fact several times. Gisburne teased those who should not be teased in any case and under no circumstances.

For the most part, this suited Robin, although there were some nuances. Many and different.

But there was some kind of inconsistency in all this, and it was very disturbing. And at times, Robin caught himself on a very strange feeling in general - it was not clear from where envy creeping into his soul. Gisburne had something… Robin couldn't explain it, but he wanted to have it. Only it was impossible to take away, but the desire did not go anywhere. This angered Robin. Although, on reflection, it is completely incomprehensible, why would there be envy? But this feeling was based on the very subtle inconsistency that so annoyed Robin.

Guy of Gisburne… Sir Guy of Gisburne… Guy the Forester… Guy… Gisburne...

This incomprehensible riddle of the universe in a blue cloak managed to get into such alterations that it could not be worse. All his actions did not carry a drop of logic and common sense.

This walking misunderstanding, selflessly quarreling with the Templars on the issue of a phenomenon that does not exist in nature in the form of his own honor, just as selflessly undertook to help them!

This man had no brains, no self-respect, no shame, no conscience, no pride, no honor with dignity. Nothing! There was only incredible naivete, combined with the same arrogance, completely enchanting proportions of self-conceit, mind-blowing outbursts of emotions and stupid courage. And the last one was just limitless.

But how all this together managed to be combined in one - and, surprisingly, still alive - person, Robin Loxley could not understand, although he tried.

And Gisburne did return to the templars their iron goods along with horses, harness and clothes.

Robin's jaw almost dropped at this turn of events. Here's something that the Sherwood shooters didn't expect. Scarlet and Little John barely fought back, stumbling into an ambush of Gisburne at old Bozzie, a well-known buyer of stolen goods in the area. They escaped with only a couple of wounds, but this is undoubtedly due to the protection of Herne.

There were a couple of interesting cases when Gisburne turned out to be very smart and businesslike, but basically this arrogant Norman mug only knew how to chase unfortunate hungry peasants and spoil the girls!

Okay, let this dog do what he wants, as long as he doesn't get in the way, until Robin himself finds out for sure who burned down Bradmoor Hall. And this happened definitely not at the request of someone's left heel, but for a very serious reason. These things are done out of revenge. Otherwise, Gisburne wouldn't be out here trying to catch the criminal.

Yes, this scoundrel will not find anyone, although ... What if Gisburne succeeds? Well, quite by accident. No, Robin needs to get to this as soon as possible, because that poor fellow needs help to escape. And by teaming up with the Sherwood archers, that man could avenge the offense better. Or Robin of Loxley himself would ruin the lives of his enemies.

But the leader of the Sherwood gang was also passionately curious about what really happened between that unknown avenger and the sheriff? Surely there are people who know at least something about this. And, having come to such a decision, Robin went back to the camp to notify the others about the upcoming case.

As soon as he turned off the path into the thicket, he noticed a slight glow in the depths of the forest. Herne? Creeping closer, he saw among the trees the figure of his father in his horned hat. The light really came from him, which in itself was quite normal. But not permanent. What's going on?

Father stood with outstretched arms and muttered something. Robin cautiously approached a little more, and then a little more, until he saw what was happening. And froze, dumbfounded.

In front of the forest god, a dead and very old woman lay on the grass, her rags were covered in blood - someone had inflicted a terrible wound on her chest, but this was not what shocked Robin.

He couldn't take his eyes off the sight he had never seen before. The wrinkled face of this old woman and her hands slowly became covered with sinuous veins, as if blood vessels had come to the surface from under the skin. The skin began to darken, and the face became like oak bark.

In the meantime, whitish threads protruded from the ground with a thin crackle, they grew, thickened and entangled the dead body, growing into it. Small beetles, centipedes and earwigs - the inhabitants of last year's overgrown foliage - quickly crawled along the robe of the unfortunate woman, which was decaying before our eyes.

Whether the forest itself took her or she went into it, Robin did not understand for himself. He just froze and couldn't move. And the body on earth gradually lost its human appearance and turned into tree roots. Now the last thing has disappeared - tangled gray hair. The forest took her whole.

Herne lowered his hands and sighed heavily. It was only now that Robin was finally able to move. Horned turned around.

— Came… it's good.

—Yes, father,—Robin nodded and looked back at that woman - or rather, the place where her body had just been.

—It doesn’t matter who she is…— Herne suddenly said tiredly, although Robin had not yet had time to open his mouth with a question. - It's none of your business, mind your own, you will soon have them - you can't rake them with a shovel.

— Huh?..

—You will have a chance to become what you were born for. Don't miss it. You must show who you are so that your people will recognize you and follow you. But you also need to know them yourself. It's time to take your rightful place, Robin, - and added quite strange: - And not only you ... will it work?

— I don’t understand… Father, haven’t I yet?..

—Not. But in order to become who you should be, you need to be your real self - otherwise it will not work, and you may not gain, but lose a lot. Be careful and prudent, my son, you have a difficult task ahead of you.

— Huh...

Robin sniffed and scratched his head, and Herne looked at him expectantly, had to answer:

—I see.

Actually, father's words were never very clear and transparent, but now Hearn somehow let in a special fog. And Robin himself, although he said, did not understand at all what he was talking about. I just didn't want to look like a fool.

The forest god, meanwhile, chuckled something indefinitely and once again looked at his son, which Robin seemed rather strange: either mocking, or ... disappointed? Apparently, Hern did not believe in such a sudden insight.

—And I also wanted you to ...

And suddenly Robin realized that he did not know what he was going to ask his father, and indeed did not understand how he got here, where he was before and what he was doing. After thinking for a while, he came to the conclusion that he was in the camp, and the Horned One somehow made Robin find him.

And is it really worth being surprised at such self-evident things? Still, his father is the great god Herne.

And the next day, it so happened that His Majesty the King of England invited Robin of Loxley to visit him in Nottingham. And Robin understood: this is the chance. And that he won. Unconditionally. The war that the sheriff, his brother, and that mutt of Gisburne fought with him, was lost outright by them. And everyone will know about it!

Chapter Text

Everything repeats itself first as a tragedy, and then as a farce, but even in this pattern Guy managed to be an exception. Listening to Richard the Lionheart extolling his new favorite to the skies, he realized that his king, second only to god ... almost a god, had betrayed him. And Guy became scared, but this fear surprisingly quickly passed, leaving a feeling of disgust, and then emptiness.

And the order for the next day - which, no matter how hard you try to dodge, but you have to follow - he was not even surprised. But he once again had hope for a home and a new chance.

Among the flames that engulfed the barn, despite the hellish pain and heat, he was able to rise to his feet and take a step towards the exit ... the still loaded crossbow lay on the floor - they had not had time to shoot from it. Even if it will be the last thing he does...

Guy did not see how the crossbow arrow pierced between the shoulder blades with a crunch - but not to the one to whom it was intended, but to his companion. Yes, he didn’t care who she overtook, and didn’t care about himself - he was dying.

Somewhere on the edge of consciousness flashed a memory: the scarred face of a woman from Bradmoor Hall and her words:

— ... Haigs, whose motto has always been "Whatever happens."

In response to him, like an echo, a completely unfamiliar voice said:

—The Gisbornes don't give up.

And own barely audible wheezing:

—Never!