The knight brought the wine cup to his lips and sipped, studying the empty hall in approval. The Sheriff had left for London yesterday and wouldn’t return for at least a fortnight, which meant that a certain young knight could do what he liked…within reason. And, at that moment, drinking the day away seemed to hold the most appeal. The accounts could wait and it wasn’t as if the barracks were full of soldiers he could order around.
Most of the castle’s garrison had been sent to Wales. It was 1211 and the war in Wales was at its height. Gisburne had nearly volunteered to fight himself, but, despite a suggestion the Sheriff had once made on the subject, Gisburne had still been refused permission. The knight hadn’t found it too difficult to live with the disappointment. Besides, somebody had to maintain justice in the shire.
Gisburne smirked and sat back. Yes, he would maintain justice. Today, he would maintain it from the hall, seated comfortably in the Sheriff’s chair. He closed his eyes and, after a time, was drifting off to sleep. Then he heard footfalls and a polite cough from below.
The knight opened his eyes and gazed down lazily from the high table. The servant looked nervous.
“My lord, William Brewer is here.”
“What?” Gisburne sat up straight in the chair, then abandoned it altogether. Oh, yes, the servant had been nervous and for good reason!
The knight was running a quick eye over his clothing, and a hand through his hair, when William Brewer entered the hall. Gisburne stood at attention and tried to prepare himself for the worst eventuality. Then he noticed two small children, a boy and a girl, each gripping one of Brewer’s hands.
I wasn’t expecting this, thought Gisburne. Had Brewer been promoted to royal wet-nurse? The knight managed to conceal a grin just as Brewer met his eyes.
“Oh, it’s you,” stated the King’s Constable, his voice tinged with boredom and disgust.
“The Sheriff has gone to London,” said Gisburne. “He won’t be back for at least a fortnight.”
Brewer sighed and shook his head. “How does de Rainault manage to disappear just before King John or one of his servants arrive?”
“My lord, I - ”
“You, unfortunately, will have to do.”
“Do?” asked Gisburne hesitantly. He looked down at the children. He didn’t like the sound of this at all.
“Ah, how perceptive of you,” commented Brewer sarcastically as he followed the direction of the knight’s gaze. “These are King John’s hostages. There names are Geriant and Collwen,” he added, nodding first to the girl then the boy. “I can’t pronounce their family’s name.”
“I’m Geriant!” stated the boy indignantly.
“Quite,” said Brewer, who didn’t seem to care what the boy called himself. In fact, he released the children’s hands as soon as the introductions had been made and took a step away from them. “These children are now your responsibility,” he announced to the knight.
“What?” cried Gisburne.
“You are to take charge of them until...Well, until someone pays their ransom, I suppose.”
“But-but I’m a soldier, not a wet-nurse!”
“You are the King’s servant and, as such, you’ll be whatever he commands you to be,” said Brewer. Gisburne crossed his arms but said nothing. “You will protect these children with your life. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord,” answered Gisburne glumly.
“Good. You’ve managed to avoid the executioner’s block on at least two occasions. If anything happens to your charges, the King won’t spare you a third time.”
Gisburne swallowed uncomfortably and managed to nod.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Brewer, turning to leave.
“But…”
Brewer turned around again. “Yes?”
“What…what am I supposed to do with them?”
“God’s Throat, Gisburne, how should I know?” said Brewer. And, with those parting words, the King’s Constable left the hall.
Gisburne’s eyes fell reluctantly on the children. They stared back at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. The little girl was only three or four years old with golden braids and wide blue eyes. In one hand she clutched a doll, apparently the only possession she had been allowed to take. Her brother, who was seven or eight years old at least, had dark brown hair and solemn hazel eyes.
“Are you really going to look after us?” asked Geriant when he could no longer bear the awkward silence.
“Well…yes, I suppose I am,” admitted Gisburne.
Geriant nodded in resignation, and his sister began to cry.
* * * *
Gisburne sat brooding over the accounts. His good mood had been shattered when Brewer had arrived with those brats. His ears were still ringing from the little girl’s prolonged bout of weeping, which had entailed wails and screams as well as tears. Gisburne was still grateful to the quick-witted servant who had bribed Collwen with a tart before leading both children to the kitchen. The knight fervently hoped that she would be able to keep them busy and out of his hair for at least a few hours…
Gisburne looked up and found two sets of eyes fixed on him. He managed to suppress a curse, though he did little else to hide his displeasure.
“What do you want?” he demanded. “I thought you went off to the kitchen with that woman.”
“We did,” said Geriant. “Then we lost her.”
Gisburne scrutinized the boy and wondered if they had really been lost or if they had lost the servant on purpose.
“Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” he asked at last. “Do you expect me to find her for you?”
“You could show us around the castle,” suggested Geriant. “You promised you would,” he added when Gisburne glared at him.
“I did?” said Gisburne in disbelief.
“Yes, when Collwen was crying.”
Gisburne closed his eyes and cursed silently to himself. He had made that promise, but only in a desperate attempt to shut up Collwen. He wouldn’t have said anything if he had known the boy had such sharp ears.
“Oh, please, Sir Guy.”
“Pwease! I want to see the hotchies!” stated Collwen.
Gisburne stared at the girl in alarm. What devil child was this?
“She means horses, my lord. She still can’t say that word very well.”
“Ah.” Gisburne tried to turn his attention back to his work, but he could feel their eyes boring into him. “Oh, very well, I’ll show you the castle,” he conceded.
The boy broke into a smile, and his sister waved her doll around in excitement.
Gisburne led them to the stables first since they both seemed to be the most interested in that place.
“Hotchies,” said Collwen as they walked past a row of stalls.
“Yes,” agreed Gisburne with a grimace.
“Which horse is yours, Sir Guy?” asked Geriant.
The knight stopped in front of a stall with a large black horse. The horse snorted twice and tossed its head.
“Up! Up!” cried Collwen, raising her arms above her head.
“She wants you to pick her up,” explained Geriant to the bewildered knight.
“Why?”
“If you don’t pick her up soon, she’ll start to cry,” said Geriant. Then, as if to prove her brother’s claim, Collwen scrunched up her face, her hands rolling into fists. Gisburne scooped her up quickly, and she giggled in delight when she found herself almost nose to nose with the horse. Collwen patted the white spot on its head.
“Be careful,” warned Gisburne.
Collwen grabbed the horse’s forelock and tugged.
“No!” cried the knight, an instant too late.
Collwen started screaming and waving her injured fingers around. Gisburne couldn’t see any blood and wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about. The horse had only nipped her lightly.
“You’d better take her to the physician, Sir Guy,” said Geriant.
“Yes, all right.”
“I want Mam!” wailed Collwen as the knight carried her into the castle. He tried to ignore all the stares, walking as quickly as possible. However, the physician was nowhere to be found. The knight, who didn’t know what else to do, returned to the hall and deposited Collwen on the table where he had been working. She had stopped screaming and seemed content to moan and sniff loudly instead.
“Dolly wants a story,” she whined.
“A story?” questioned Gisburne, who looked as if the word left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“When Mother tells stories Collwen stops crying,” said Geriant helpfully.
“But I don’t know any stories!” Gisburne exclaimed. Then Collwen screwed up her face, and he suddenly felt motivated.
“There once was a villainous cutthroat named Robin Hood…” Gisburne began.
* * * *
Robin Hood sat under a table in the Nottingham Castle wardrobe, obscured from view by a large blue and silver standard that was draped across the top. John and Will were there with him, while Much and Nasir were occupied with other duties. Tuck had wisely opted to remain back in Sherwood. The monk had thought their plan had been foolish and reckless. Robin was beginning to believe that his friend had been right.
They had heard rumours that the castle’s garrison had been drastically depleted. Robin had feared that the rumours might have been exaggerated and, yet, he didn’t dare miss an opportunity like this one. The castle’s defences were at their weakest, and the people were almost being taxed to death to pay for a war they didn’t care about or understand. Robin had had no choice but to act.
Sneaking into the castle hadn’t been too difficult. There had only been four guards posted at the main gate, and the guards in the towers hadn’t even noticed their approach. The outlaws had managed to ambush the soldiers with very little noise or effort. Now Much and Nasir had taken over their post and were wearing two of the uniforms.
Once they were past the gate, Robin, John and Will had crossed the courtyard and entered the castle through the kitchen. They should have realized then that their plan was going too well.
As they had headed towards the castle’s treasury, they had almost run straight into Gisburne. Fortunately, Will had spotted the knight before the knight had caught sight of them. Their only escape had been a staircase, so the outlaws had climbed it as silently as they could And that was how they had ended up in the wardrobe, hiding underneath a table. They hoped that if they waited long enough, Gisburne would stop patrolling and go to bed…
“What was that?” hissed Scarlet.
Robin and John listened carefully and heard the sound of feet scuffling outside. Robin’s hand fell on the hilt of his sword when he heard the door creak open. Someone was approaching the table.
“Oh, hello,” said a boy, who lifted the end of the standard as if it had been a tent flap and crawled under the table. The outlaws blinked at the boy in surprise. “I’m Geriant. And this is…Collwen, where are you?” he demanded and then a little girl with gold braids stuck her head underneath the table as well.
“You’re Welsh,” said Robin.
“We’re King John’s hostages.”
“His hostages?”
Geriant nodded eagerly. “Sir Guy is looking after us.”
Will snorted in laughter, and John regarded them with pity.
“You poor little children,” John murmured, patting Collwen’s head with a large hand.
“Are you hos-a-ges too?” asked Collwen.
“No, we’re not!” answered Will indignantly. Then his expression softened as the little girl held out her dolly to him.
“You’re Robin Hood, aren’t you?” said Geriant, looking Robin straight in the eyes.
Robin knew he that he should protest, tell a lie, say anything but the truth.
“Yes, I’m Robin Hood.”
“Robin!” hissed Will, almost dropping Collwen’s doll.
“Oh, it’s all right. We won’t tell,” said Geriant earnestly. “You’re King John’s enemy and we’re his enemies too.”
Robin smiled and shook hands with the boy.
“Robin, we can’t leave them here,” said John. “It’s not safe.”
Geriant frowned. “But Sir Guy is looking after us.”
“That’s what we’re afraid of,” muttered Will.
“We could rescue you, return you to your family,” explained Robin.
“Mam,” whispered Collwen wishfully.
“No, we’d better stay here,” said Geriant. “It’s what Father would want us to do, and he and Mam would be worried if we disappeared.”
“And King John will cut off Sir Guy’s head,” added Collwen, making a chopping motion against her doll’s neck.
“Yes, there’s that too. We’d better stay.”
Robin nodded reluctantly. He didn’t want to leave the children in Nottingham Castle, but he didn’t exactly relish the thought of fratricide either.
“If you ever need help, we’ll come,” said Robin. “There’s a servant in the castle named Martha – ”
“Oh, we like Martha! She gave us tarts!”
“I want a tart,” announced Collwen.
“Not now, silly.”
“But I want one!”
“If you need help,” continued Robin, managing to diffuse the squabble, “you can tell Martha and she’ll send for us.”
“All right,” agreed Geriant. “That’s very kind of you.”
“No, it would be our pleasure,” stated Will, correcting him.
“It’s late. You’d better go to bed before Gis-Sir Guy comes looking for you,” said Robin gently.
“Oh, he’s already looking for us. We’ve been playing hide-and-seek with him, only he didn’t know it. I think he’s finally started looking for us.”
“What?” croaked Robin.
“He’s looking for us.”
“Robin, if Gisburne comes in ’ere looking for them – ” began Will.
“I know. I know. Look, Geriant, you and your sister must find Gisburne and then go to bed. If he finds us here…”
“You’re dead?” asked Geriant cheerfully.
The outlaws nodded in unison.
“We’d better go, then,” said Geriant. “Come on, Collwen.”
“I don’t want to go to bed. There’s monsters.”
“Aye, and you’ve already met the biggest one,” joked Will. He pulled aside the standard, and the children crawled out from under the table. The standard had only fallen back into place again, when the door burst open.
“By Christ!” shouted a man who sounded very much like Gisburne. “I’ve been searching the whole bloody castle for you! Where have you been?”
“Uh…we were just looking for you, Sir Guy,” said Geriant.
“In the wardrobe?”
“Uh…”
“Oh, never mind. I don’t have time for this. I have to patrol the castle. Our defences are at their weakest. Robin Hood and his men could be sneaking into the castle as we speak.”
“They’re already here!” cried Collwen in excitement. “We’ve seen them!”
Robin felt the colour drain from his face, but, fortunately, Geriant was there to save them.
“Stop lying, Collwen!” said the boy. “She’s making up stories again. She’s always doing that.”
Robin heard the little girl sniff loudly.
“It’s true! It’s true!” she protested, bursting into tears.
“I’ve never seen a child who cried so much,” grumbled Gisburne. “Oh, not again!”
Robin couldn’t see what was happening, but apparently Collwen was making some gesture that the knight didn’t appreciate.
“You’d better pick her up, Sir Guy,” suggested Geriant, “or she’ll start screaming again.”
“All right, all right!” said Gisburne quickly as Collwen prepared to make good on her threat.
Robin peeked cautiously around the standard in time to see the knight lift the little girl from the ground.
“Dolly wants a story,” warned Collwen.
“Another one?” exclaimed Gisburne. “I’ve already told you every story I know – twice!”
“Dolly wants a story now.”
“You’d better tell her one or she’ll wake the whole castle,” said Geriant.
Collwen, who was exhausted by both her journey and the long day, began to whimper and then wail audibly.
“Right, that’s it. You’re both going to bed!” ordered Gisburne. Geriant began to protest, but the knight took him firmly by the hand and started to drag him towards the door. However, the boy still managed to cast a final look at the outlaw peeking at him from under the table. Geriant smiled and winked before he was pulled out of the room.
Robin and Will, who were trying desperately not to laugh, shook silently. Then their laughter escaped in gasps and sobs.
“How can you laugh at a time like this?” demanded John. “What about those poor little children?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t feel too sorry for them, John,” replied Scarlet. “They’ve got Gisburne just where they want ’im and they know it!”
“Well, I still think we should rescue them,” said John stubbornly.
Robin laid a hand on the taller man's shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about them either. If Gisburne has to look after them much longer, he might negotiate with their father himself just to get rid of them!”
“I suppose,” mumbled John.
“Come on, let’s get what we came for and get out of here while Gisburne’s still distracted.” Robin pulled back the standard and they crawled out from under the table.
“Robin, if I promise not to scream can I have a story too?” whispered Will as they crept down the corridor.
