The Gisborne Chronicles

CHR10/CH3 - The Rescue Part 1

Guy reached for his dagger as the man lunged toward him, but then smelt the ale on his breath as he staggered past, the words of a ribald song on his slobbering lips.

His thoughts on the well known whore named Margery, were sung in a tuneless voice, but with great enthusiasm, as he listed her many and varied 'talents'.

The lady concerned would no doubt be glad of the tribute, and the coin of those who would doubtless flock to her door, on the drunkard's musical recommendation.

When he turned into the street where lived the poorest of the poor, he could scarce believe the degradation. Row upon row of badly fashioned dwellings, some barely upright and most without a roof of any substance, their occupants watching him with lacklustre eyes as he moved past them.

Groups of raggedy children played in the dirt, but with little enthusiasm, their eyes and bellies large with hunger.

"How can this be?" he asked himself, " this sore on the face of humanity, a scant half mile from the houses of the elite, who sit at their tables and throw good meat to the dogs!"

But he knew the reason, for had he not been part of it? He had acted on the words of a man not fit to rule, and had been the  bringer of ill tidings and poverty to those who would not, or could not, pay their over inflated dues.

Sir Guy of Gisborne had once threatened, degraded and then evicted, in the name of the one he had sometimes unwillingly served, lacking the courage to disobey, and fearing the loss of power his lofty position allowed him.

The memories shamed him even now, these many years later, but his goal this day was not remorse or restitution. Where was she, this woman his brother had wed, and what of her sons, were they here in this awful place?

Could they have been brought so low, that they now dwelt here among the dregs of humanity, starving, and dependant on their mother's whoring to sustain themselves?

Even her name was unknown to him, but he reasoned that a lady of substance, even brought low as she was, would merit the inquisition of those with whom she sought to ally herself, in her much reduced circumstances.

Tilly had said that she had heard of such a woman, identifiable only by her once rich garments, now ragged and faded, but still proudly worn as she sold herself to feed her two sons.

If she sought safety in anonymity then she would surely not use her true title, would she still carry the name Gisborne? He thought not, so how would he know her?

Even among the destitute there would likely loyalty of a sort. If she was here, the offer of coin would likely find her, but who to ask? Who would be willing to accept rejection by their fellows, even in this terrible place?

As events unfolded, the coin was not needed, for the woman he sought now walked towards him, smiling as if to entice him, and offering her breast to be touched as she unlaced a tattered silken bodice.

She quickly spoke of the coin required for her favours, but fell silent as Guy reached for her hand and raised it to his lips.

" My Lady, I believe you are wife to my brother," he said, "and that your two sons are named for me. I am Guy of Gisborne, and I am come to remove you to a place of safety. Will you come with me to this safe haven?"

The shock of hearing his name took the colour from her face, and she stepped back to see him more clearly.

" He believes you long dead," she said, " he has grieved for you these many years, and remains deeply shamed by his actions towards you, how came you to be here in this dreadful place?"

As she spoke, two young boys crept up and hid behind her, one about twelve years old and the other a little older Guy thought.

" These are my brother's sons," he said out loud, and his heart broke at the sight of them.