He had wished to have as little contact with her as possible, but necessity forced Gisburne to search for her. He headed straight for the garden. He didn't know why at first. Then he remembered: his mother had loved gardens...Gisburne frowned and quickened his pace.
He had guessed correctly. She was in the garden. She sat on the grass, slowly strumming her fingers through the blades.
"I heard a rumour that you were never seen outside the barracks," she commented, sensing that it was Gisburne casting the shadow over her.
"What?"
"Never mind. What is it?"
"The King will be here in three days."
"That's nice."
"There will be a feast. You'll be expected to attend."
"But I couldn't possibly."
"You must."
"Why?"
"It will reflect badly on me if you don't."
"Well, we couldn't have that!"
"And it would be an insult to the King," continued Gisburne, as if she had said nothing.
"Oh..." When Margaret made no further protest, the knight assumed that he had won that battle. Then the woman spoke again.
"What will this feast entail?" she asked.
"Well, the King will be there, along with several other nobles, of course."
"Of course."
"There will be music and dancing..." He trailed off when he noticed the peculiar look on Margaret's face. He thought about it and realized that he had seen that panicked expression before.
"You can't dance, can you?"
"I was raised in a convent, Guy." The knight groaned and Margaret plucked a blade of grass. She played with it while Gisburne paced. Finally he stopped and Margaret looked up expectantly.
"Tonight, when everyone is asleep, I'll come to your chamber."
"Guy!"
"Well, when and where else can I teach you?"
"I'll leave the door unlatched."
"No. No, don't do that. I'll...I'll knock twice."
"You mean like this: thump, thump! Will you utter a secret password too?" Gisburne ignored her comments. Perhaps he didn't hear them. He was studying her dress critically.
"Do you have a suitable dress?"
"You saw the one I wore last night."
"Do you have a suitable dress?" he repeated. She shook her head. Gisburne pulled his purse from his belt and began counting out coins.
"Here," he said, dropping some into her palm. "It's market day tomorrow. You'll find what you need there."
"But that will only leave me two days to make the dress!"
"You'd best leave early then, hadn't you?" he replied unsympathetically. He turned and would have left the garden, but a terrible thought suddenly occurred to him.
"You can sew, can't you?" Margaret blushed.
"Of course I can sew!" she answered indignantly. He gave a curt nod and something that almost resembled a smile. She smiled herself, as if she didn't have a care in the world. However, as soon as Gisburne was gone her brow instantly furrowed.
"Perhaps I can find a servant to make the dress."
Gisburne approached the door reluctantly. He had tried to make supper last as long as possible, but the Sheriff had been in a worse temper than usual for some reason. Both he and Margaret had taken what nourishment they needed, then quickly left the Sheriff to the company of his wine. Yet, the knight had still managed to delay the lesson.
He went down to the barracks to bully his men. He checked on the preparations for the feast. He even considered cleaning his armour. Then he pictured Margaret's teasing smile and heard her laughter as she chided him for his cowardice in the morning. He promptly stepped up to the door and knocked.
"Who is it?"
"Who do you think?"
"Well, it couldn't be my brother. There's been no password." Gisburne gritted his teeth. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He was about to walk away when the door opened. Gisburne crossed the threshold, ignoring her amused glance. When he walked to the middle of the room, it was Margaret's turn to be anxious. She stood in front of him, but she didn't know what to do.
"Give me your hand," he instructed. "Now, step forward. No, no, you have to be beside me. Step forward. Good. Now turn--No, right, not left!" She broke away from him.
"I can't learn like this!" she exclaimed. Gisburne glared at her.
"What would you have me do? Escort you to the hall? Wake up a band of minstrels?"
"Well, we need music of some kind!"
"Then sing!"
"Fine. I will." Gisburne took her hand and they repeated the tiny amount he had taught her. Margaret sang softly. Then the knight stopped and so did the singing.
"What is it?" inquired Margaret.
"Can you sing anything else besides hymns?"
"Of course. No, wait! Nothing I can sing here." Gisburne sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Oh, is the lesson over?" asked Margaret cheerfully.
"Shut up. I need to think." Gisburne placed his head in his hands and attempted to do just that. Then he felt her eyes boring into him.
"What?" he snapped. She sat down beside him.
"I was wondering...Do you ever laugh?" Gisburne looked up in surprise.
"Everyone laughs," he stated simply.
"That's not what I asked," she spoke, almost sounding angry. "When did you last laugh, Guy? Yesterday? A week ago? A month ago? A year ago..." The knight stood up abruptly.
"I don't have time for this. I didn't come her for idle chatter. Come here." Margaret sighed.
"I wish you would laugh," she muttered, taking his hand for the third time. "We still don't have any music."
"I'll hum!" hissed Gisburne. They went through the steps again and slowly added some more. Fortunately, Margaret was a quick learner when she actually took the trouble to listen. Eventually the situation didn't seem so unbearable. Of couse, the wine Margaret decided to "borrow" from the Sheriff certainly helped.
In mock seriousness, Margaret raised her head high and took small, mincing steps. Gisburne's lips twitched. He couldn't resist singing the last verse of one ballad aloud: "'Lady Margarita, beauty and youth / you have, and renown and courtesy and sense; / and if in anger I have said too much about that other lady, / about you I have said much less than the truth.'"
Margaret gaped at him for a few moments, then began to clap enthusiatically.
"Guy, you shouldn't be carrying a sword at your side, but a lute!" she stated earnestly. "Say you'll give up this life and become a troubadour. I'll be Lady Margarita and we'll travel the country together in search of adventure!" Gisburne stared at her, aghast. Then Margaret flashed a smile and her wish was finally granted: her brother laughed.
* * * *
The De Rainault brothers watched her closely. She was wearing a beautiful pale blue dress; her hair was respectably plaited; even her behaviour was impeccable. The Sheriff was suspicious and Hugo knew it.
"I like her," stated the Abbot.
"You're only saying that because you know that I despise her," answered the Sheriff testily.
"Probably," admitted Hugo, hiding his expression behind another sip of wine. Suddenly the Abbot sputtered. The Sheriff turned his head casually, then smiled.
"Did I tell you the Earl of Huntington was invited?"
"No, you didn't," growled the Abbot. He quickly hid his sneer as the Earl approached. The Earl hadn't planned to greet them. He would have disregarded them altogether if he had had any choice in the matter. He didn't. He had seen the woman and the damage was done.
The Sheriff and his brother bowed, but the Earl didn't seem to notice. The Sheriff studied him carefully, wondering why he was so distracted. Then he followed Huntington's gaze.
"She's quite pretty, isn't she?" The Earl tore his eyes away quickly.
"Who is she?" De Rainault grinned slyly. His steward had just entered the hall.
"She's Margaret of Gisburne," he answered, as the woman in question crossed the hall to see her brother. The Sheriff expected a look of surprise, maybe even disgust, but the Earl merely nodded and walked away.
"Interesting," murmured the Sheriff. Why did he have the feeling that the Earl had figured that out already?
"My lord, the King wishes to speak to you," said Gisburne, who had suddenly appeared at his side.
"All right, Gisburne." The Sheriff went to find the King and stopped speculating about the Earl of Huntington. Gisburne had only just started.
He was staring at her again. Men had stared at her before, but the Earl wasn't looking at her that way. Margaret couldn't understand what emotions lay behind those eyes.
"Forgive me, my lady," he spoke, approaching her slowly. "You remind me of someone I once knew."
"Did you like her?" asked Margaret bluntly. The Earl hesitated, not sure what to tell her. He chose the truth.
"Yes. I liked her very much," he admitted at last. Margaret blushed, though she hardly knew why. The Earl chuckled quietly. At first she thought he was laughing at her. She attempted to regain her composure, but she wasn't the Gisburne he found amusing.
"Your brother is glaring at me," he explained. Margaret glanced over her shoulder. Gisburne looked away.
"It almost brings tears to my eyes. I didn't realize he was so protective." The Earl shifted his gaze back to the knight again, looking almost sheepish.
"What is it?"
"My son is his enemy."
"Your son?" she questioned. The Earl turned towards the staircase as the sound of a clarion reverberated through the hall.
"His Majesty, King John," announced the herald. Everyone bowed or curtsied obediently. The King strode quickly across the hall and ascended the dais. He made an impatient gesture to his subjects. The nobles rose and noise gradually returned to the hall. The King's eyes roamed lazily around the room. They stopped at the Earl of Huntington for a moment, then fell on Margaret. He beckoned to the Sheriff, who hurried to his side.
"Who is that woman?"
"Margaret of Gisburne, my liege."
"Gisburne!" he cried. Some guests turned in surprise. The Sheriff's steward started. What could he have possibly done to offend the King this time? It wasn't until Gisburne reached the high table that he realized it was his sister who had caught the King's attention.
"Robin Hood's father and Gisburne's sister!" exclaimed the King loudly. "How ironic!" Everone in the hall laughed, except for the Earl, Margaret and Gisburne of course. Margaret stared at the Earl in wonder. Both Huntington and Gisburne wished that they could be swallowed by the floor.
"Come here," ordered the King, addressing Margaret. She glanced quickly at her brother, but he seemed as stunned as she was. She clasped her hands tightly and walked to the high table. Then she curtsied and the King rose from his chair.
"Are you enjoying the feast, my lady?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I don't believe I've ever seen you before."
"No, Your Majesty."
"Are you certain, my dear?"
"I know that if I had had that great privilege, I would have remembered, Your Majesty," she stated, gracing King John with a low curtsy. The King clapped his hands in delight. The Sheriff was glad that she wasn't a man who held power. She could prove quite dangerous then...She was dangerous even now! The King had ousted a disgruntled lord out of his chair and invited Margaret to sit beside him.
Supper was unbearably slow. Margaret hadn't wanted to sit next to him, but how could she have refused? She regretted it as soon as she had stepped on to the dais. Her skin crawled even before his hand had landed on her thigh. The King of England was pursuing her! Who am I? I'm no one . Then she realized. That was the problem.
Margaret laughed again at one of King John's attempts at witty repartee. Well, she was grateful for one mercy at least: Guy had been placed at the other end of the table. He didn't know she was in peril; he couldn't witness her humiliation. She glanced at him, catching his eye. Was he even suspicious?
"My dear, shall we have dancing?" Margaret's hand casually flitted away before he could seize it.
"Yes, my liege," she answered sweetly. She jumped as the King thumped his wine goblet on the table. The hall went silent.
"Lady Margaret wants dancing," he announced. Margaret felt her cheeks burn as guests surged through the hall to find partners. The King turned to her expectantly. Her eyes darted around frantically.
Gisburne stepped down from the dais, intent on asking a raven-haired beauty for the pleasure, when Margaret swooped down.
"What are you--" She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the other dancers. The King glowered at the knight, then hid his disappointment behind a half-hearted laugh.
"Such filial devotion is commendable," he commented. "Very commendable indeed..." He gave a curt nod to the musicians and they began to play. Margaret took Gisburne's hand and tried to remember the steps he had taught her.
"Margaret..." began the knight.
"Guy, if I stay here I shall die." At first he didn't respond, simply jerked her hand when she tried pivoting left instead of right.
"When the music stops, leave. I'll make your excuses," he whispered. Then he raised his head and focused on the dance again as if neither one of them had spoken. Margaret began to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing. He was siding with her! He must have noticed after all and was about as pleased by the King's attention as she was.
"Oh, forgive me," she said. She had just stepped on Gisburne's foot. The knight grimaced but said nothing. Margaret wondered desperately if the dance would ever end. Fortunately, it did end. Gisburne released Margaret's hand and she headed swiftly towards the door.
"Leaving us already, Lady Gisburne?" Margaret froze, hardly daring to face her accuser. The hall had grown uncomfortably silent again. Suddenly Gisburne's hand had grasped her arm and he was guiding her to the high table. Margaret hoped that no one could see her trembling. She tried to speak, but she couldn't produce a word. Of all the times to lose her voice! Unable to plead her defence, she sank into a deep curtsy. Gisburne was still clutching her arm.
"My liege, my sister is unwell. I believe something must have disagreed with her. She...she needed air." The King stood over the two siblings for a moment. Margaret glanced up tentatively. Her offered her his hand.
"You poor child. You've turned quite pale. She doesn't need air, Gisburne, but wine. Sit down, my dear, and rest." Margaret stared at the hand floating in front of her nose. She took it cautiously. The hall slowly filled with sound once more as Margaret returned to her chair. She had expected her brother to disappear, but he remained fixed to the spot despite the Sheriff's attempts to draw him away.
"Now, my dear, isn't that better?" inquired the King, as she raised her goblet to her lips a second time. She nodded and took a sip. Then she almost choked as the King's hand found its way to her thigh again.
"My liege!"
"No, don't speak of it now. Later. We'll have time enough later."
"Time for what?" asked Margaret nervously. The King smiled and poured himself more wine. Margaret thought she would be sick. She raised her goblet and gulped rather than sipped.
"Gisburne," spoke the King, who suddenly noticed the knight. "You will see that your sister is brought to my chamber later this evening."
"But my liege--" The King regarded Gisburne with a venemous glare.
"That's an order, not a request, Gisburne." The Sheriff's hand clamped down on his steward's arm.
"Gisburne was just about to express his gratitude for the kindness you have shown to his sister. Weren't you, Gisburne?"
"But my lord--"
"Yes, of course. I had almost forgotten. We have some business to discuss. Will you please excuse us, Your Majesty? We won't be long." Gisburne followed the Sheriff reluctantly from the hall, managing to escape Margaret's anxious, pleading eyes.
The Sheriff led his steward into the first empty chamber they happened upon and shut the door.
"Listen, Gisburne, and listen well. You would do well to obey the King's wishes."
"But my lord--"
"I understand that you might feel some attachment to your sister, but now certainly isn't the time to show it. You'd serve her interests best if you kept silent."
"So I should allow her to become the King's strumpet?" questioned Gisburne coldly.
"If it means preserving both our heads, yes!" Gisburne glared down at the ground angrily. "All right, Gisburne, think of it this way then. If your sister becomes the King's...diversion, she could be rewarded handsomely. The King can be quite magnanimous when the mood suits him. It could mean a few coins for her dowry."
"And who would marry her after that?"
"With the money she could have, almost any man." The Sheriff walked to the door. "Don't do anything stupid, Gisburne." He left without receiving a reply. The knight's eyes remained fixed on the ground. They remained there even when the door opened again.
"He's convinced you, hasn't he?" Gisburne continued to study the flagstones in silence. When he did meet her gaze, his expression was hard.
"He's the King."
"I wasn't referring to him," replied Margaret, her features also set. Gisburne held his ground.
"If you play the game, Margaret, you could earn yourself a dowry," he argued.
"The price of a dowry is worth my honour?"
"I would have thought a suitable husband would be worth some sacrifice, yes."
" Some sacrifice?" Margaret shook her head in disblief. For some time she was baffled as to how she should respond.
"What if I told you I could provide my own dowry?" she questioned at last.
"From where? I don't have it."
"Perhaps I do."
"How?" demanded Gisburne. Suddenly Margaret realized she had said too much. She had not meant to reveal her secret in this fashion. She bit her lip and said nothing. Gisburne interpreted her silence as an indication that no solution would be forthcoming.
"No one has to know," he spoke. "In fact, I don't see how anyone could--"
"But what if they did find out? What if all of Nottingham knew? What if everyone knew? It wouldn't just be my name that was ruined, but yours!"
"Don't be ridiculous. Why should anyone find out?"
"Because these things have a way of creeping out! By our Lady, Guy, look at where you are! I would have thought you'd learn something about politics by now! Look at who you've got as your teacher!" she spat. Then, she frowned. "Oh God, that's the trouble, isn't it?"
"What-what do you mean?"
"You can't sink any lower, can you? How much damage can be done to an image that's already tarnished?" Gisburne's eyes flashed at her in fury.
"What would you have me do? Defy them both?"
"It would be a start."
"A start?" Gisburne laughed bitterly. "It would be the end...of us both!" Margaret walked towards him, but stopped before her hand could reach his shoulder.
"I can't speak for you, Guy, but death might just be a suitable price for my honour," she spoke quietly. "And what of yours? Do you really want it to be known that your sister was King John's strumpet?" She searched her brother's face beseechingly, but found nothing. "Damn you! I won't prostitute myself for anyone, not even you! I'm not a whore like my mother!" she cried. Then, she witnessed the affect her words had had on him. He had almost blanched.
"Guy--"
"Get out," he rasped.
"Gladly," she whispered, fleeing blindly from the room.
