The Forgotten Keepsake

Chapter 26

XXVI

Sir Guy of Gisborne had to admit that this was a low point even for him.

In a life filled with an impressive collection of low points to look back on, this was right up there (or down there?) with some of his finest.

He sat on the floor of his room brooding and had been doing this for quite some time when he heard Vaisey loudly complaining about something in the corridor.

He didn't rouse himself to see what was going on because he didn't care; he had just spent the best part of an hour being yelled at by the Sheriff and so was not particularly inclined to assist with any further problems, grievances or whims that man might have right now.

Apparently, it was his fault that the Sheriff went on a long sleepwalking escapade - staying out all day, whilst Prince John's men laid siege to Nottingham. Yes, it was his fault that the entire town and everybody in it had come within an inch of being completely wiped out by a glorified messenger who apparently has no qualms about flattening a town and killing all its inhabitants so long as his cousin gets a building contract out of it. And of course it was his fault that the Sheriff misplaced the pact. Yes, it was his fault that the Sheriff couldn't keep hold of a large f***ing scroll long enough to bring it back with him to the Castle and save the bloody day.

One might think that that was what he was feeling low about but no; that was just another example of the normal absurdity that came with his profession, just another routine dressing down from the Sheriff, just another day at the Castle, just another ride on the bullshit merry-go-round.

No, the Sheriff was not the culprit or the cause of his misery, as worthless as he often made Guy feel, that honour went to another on this most trying of days.

He surveyed the scene before him and it reminded him very much of another sad day not all so long ago. He had sat here, right in this spot, slumped against the wall, feeling low because Marian had not wanted to marry him. And now here he was again, he might not have gotten drunk and wrecked his room this time but everything else was as before, and when confronted with the choice between death or marrying him, Marian had chosen death.

Not much of a boost for the ego eh Gisborne?

It certainly wasn't.

How unworthy must he be in her eyes if death is preferable to being with him?

A part of him liked to think that she had meant what she said about not wanting to abandon the people of Nottingham and that had been the reason for her rejection but his gut told him that this was not the reason. His gut told him if it had been a certain somebody else making the offer, her answer would have been a different one.

He sat there fumbling with his Mother's hairclip, he wished so very much he could talk with her now, she would've known what to do... his thoughts then drifted to a different hairclip and a different lady.

You would've married me little one...

It was enormous consolation to know that at least there was someone somewhere in this world who loved him.

That was one thing he could finally say for himself.

That was one thing he could hold on to.

That was one thing he had not had the last time he had sat here like this.

And that was a lot.

He may be able to look back on an impressive collection of low points - like so many pebbles on a beach but as he considered this one beautiful thing in his life, this one little pebble amongst all the others, he could honestly say that it had all been worth it.

He was alive.

By the grace of God he, Marian and all the others, still lived.

And Mina was safe, far away from this place.

He pulled himself up from the floor and walked over to the window. He looked out at the streets of Nottingham and could only stare in wonder at the peaceful scene before him. Looking at the place now, one could hardly believe that the entire town had been in total chaos a few hours earlier - the contrast was incredible.

If such change was possible in such a short time what else could happen?

What could tomorrow bring?