The Way Back

Chapter Twenty-Four

It had been many months since Guy lived at Locksley. He wondered what had happened to his possessions - of the few that mattered, Meg wore one of them on her hand. The manor had remained unoccupied; perhaps Isabella had planned to claim it for herself, as Guy's natural replacement, but events had overtaken her and prevented her from taking possession.

The Gisborne banners were gone, replaced by those of Huntingdon. Robin had made sure Guy was absent when he first returned home, but Guy heard the talk: how folk had clustered around Robin, their smiles and their hugs and their tears moving him through the village. As everyone arrived in the evening, their feet trampled the spring flowers which had been tossed in celebration, and which were now just so many bright spots in the dust of the road.

The hall, packed with food-laden tables, was loud with laughter and talk. Villagers and the outlaws mingled and ate and drank. A fire blazed in the hearth, children scuttled round, raucous toasts were made, and there was a warmth and gaiety here that the manor could never have seen in his day. The peasants cast him suspicious looks, clearly puzzled as to why Guy of Gisborne, of all people – despite his rumoured pardon - should be at this celebration.

Locksley's true master was back; Guy knew he had no place here.

Didn't really want to be, though it would have been boorish to stay away. The outlaws had plenty to celebrate, pardons, wealth, land, all they could possibly have hoped to gain; Much was at last the Earl of Bonchurch. But some of them had other plans.

"So you're still leaving?" Guy asked Tuck. The monk joined him and Meg where they stood a little apart.

"I am. There's nothing further for me to do here. The king assures us he'll install a trustworthy sheriff, and with Robin to keep him honest folk around here should have nothing to worry about." Tuck sipped his ale, looking about thoughtfully. "But myself, I must go where there's a need, wherever the people are suffering. It's what I was put on this earth to do."

"And you?" Guy asked, when Archer joined them.

"Coming with you, of course. You need someone to watch your back. Besides, the king put the same condition on me obtaining land. He somehow has the mistaken impression I'm a bit of a rogue. That I need...correction... before I can take on the responsibilities of being a landowner."

"Eavesdropping on a closed council probably didn't help," Guy observed wryly.

"Well, I'd like to think we were of some use. If it weren't for Meg's news, you could have been away a lot longer."

"I'd rather not go at all." Guy clasped Meg's hand, where it lay on his arm.

"Of course not," agreed Archer. "But I'm betting you two would rather live here, amongst your friends, than be stuck in Canterbury with not even me around to dandle your babe on my knee once it's born."

"God's teeth, you an uncle," muttered Guy, and Meg smiled.

He was glad to see it; since the council she'd been quiet, pensive. They hadn't had much chance to talk, so swiftly had events careened around them.

".....but if you did, there's always the chance," Archer was saying, "that in a year or two, when it wouldn't be interfering with the king's judgment, that Hubert might be able to offer you land for your services to him."

Guy didn't answer. Archer gave them both an assessing look, and sighed.

"I've never seen folk look less like they were enjoying themselves than you two. If I were you, I'd get out of here. You look like you've things you need to say to each other."

He left them to refill his goblet. Tuck, who'd been listening, placed a hand on Guy's shoulder.

"Not an easy decision, I grant, but you've been given a second chance," he said. "One that will go a long way to restoring you in the eyes of the people, and returning honour to the Gisborne name. That's no small thing."