“My lord, we’ve searched everywhere. The man is gone.”
The knight shut his eyes for a moment in exasperation, and the mailed fingers curled into
fists. “Did you see him leave?” he said, his head turning quickly towards the
fidgety alehouse keeper, who started and almost dropped the tankard of ale he was
cradling in his hands. “Well?” Gisburne demanded sharply.
“No, my lord,” the alehouse keeper admitted, “but I think I know how he made his
escape.”
Gisburne’s eyes narrowed. "How?”
The alehouse keeper swallowed then stroked the tankard of ale as if it were a talisman. "There’s a window from one of the rooms
above. A man might climb through it if he had a mind to, my lord.”
“Are you suggesting that he flew out the window?” Gisburne asked coldly.
The alehouse keeper flushed and instantly broke into laughter. “No, my lord! There’s never been a man born who can do that!” The alehouse keeper lowered his tankard and walked towards the wooden stairs. “If you’d be so
good as to follow me, my lord, I’ll show you what I mean.”
The knight exchanged a glance with his captain, who might have shrugged if he dared. “Have your men search all
of Nottingham,” Gisburne instructed. “I’ll come when I can.”
“Yes, my lord. If he’s in Nottingham, we’ll find him.”
The knight nodded and dismissed his captain.
“My lord?” the alehouse keeper inquired, a foot resting on the first stair.
“All right, I’m coming,” Gisburne snapped.
The harried alehouse keeper rushed up the stairs as Gisburne’s long rapid strides threatened to overtake him. “This way, my lord,” the alehouse keeper said breathlessly, once they had reached the top.
The nobleman swept past him, bursting into the room the alehouse keeper indicated.
It was a tiny dank place, with a simple pallet in the corner. A shutter
rattled in the wind. Gisburne moved to the window, pushing it open. He gazed
down at the street below, but all he saw were some men taking down a stall.
“Well?” Gisburne demanded.
“Can’t you see it, my lord?” the voice behind him asked.
“See what?”
“The sweetmeat stall!”
“Well, of course I can see it! I’m not blind! What of it?”
“That’s how he did it, my lord,” the alehouse keeper explained patiently.
Gisburne turned around to face him. “What? You mean he jumped on top of it?”
The alehouse keeper nodded enthusiastically. “It’s happened before. The soldiers were chasing one of the outlaws and...”
The alehouse keeper trailed off when he realized he had said too much.
“Are you telling me that this inn harbours wolfsheads?” Gisburne said
quietly.
“No, my lord!”
“Because if it does,” the knight continued, as if the alehouse keeper hadn’t
spoken, “you would receive a heavy fine – ”
“Oh, my lord!”
“ – and I would probably arrest you.” Gisburne glared at the trembling
alehouse keeper for a moment, then dismissed him with a scowl. “I don’t have time
for this. I’ll deal with you later.”
“Yes, my lord,” the alehouse keeper answered meekly, collapsing on the pallet as
the knight stormed from the room.
Gisburne wasn’t happy. Market day, with all its crowds and numerous
attractions, would have provided the vagabond with several opportunities to
blend in and elude the soldiers. Gisburne leaned on the second floor railing miserably. Even if he could find a dozen witnesses, he might never find the vagabond. He sighed deeply, wondering if should consider jumping himself, when a flourish of silk caught his attention. A lady had just entered the alehouse, but not just any lady.
Gisburne stared at her in astonishment as she surveyed the alehouse calmly.
Then she lifted her head to meet his eyes. He headed quickly for the
stairs; she was there to meet him when he reached the bottom.
“What are you doing here?” Gisburne said.
“I grew tired of waiting.” Enide looked around again and smiled sweetly. “It
seems your vagabond grew tired too.” Gisburne said nothing, but she could
read the answer plainly enough on his face. “Never mind. You’ll catch him,
Guy.”
“Yes,” Gisburne muttered. “I’ll catch him.” He walked to the nearest
table, ignoring the drunk man underneath it. Enide followed, pulling out a
chair. Gisburne chose to lean against the tabletop instead.
“Why do you do it, Guy?”
“Do what?” Gisburne asked, distractedly. A suspicious-looking youth was claiming
most of his attention.
“Why do you chase these rogues, these outlaws?”
Gisburne pulled his eyes away from the boy and focused on Enide again. “They’ve broken the law. They must be brought to justice.”
“But why is it so important?”
“Why is it so important?” Gisburne exclaimed, parroting her words.
“I meant why is it so important to you?”
“I told you. They’re – ”
“You once told me that when you became a knight, you would go on a crusade
and fight in the Holy Land.”
Gisburne’s forehead creased. “I told you this?”
“Yes,” Enide said firmly.
“Well, I don’t remember.”
“You were drunk.”
Gisburne laughed. “You shouldn’t believe anything a man says when he’s drunk.”
“I believed you. I think you were telling the truth.”
“So what if I was? There aren’t any crusades now. No one’s fighting for a
seat in heaven anymore. All anyone cares about is land.”
“And you don’t?”
“I have a bit of land and do you know what it’s brought me?”
“What?”
“Nothing!” Gisburne cried.
Enide smiled and traced a pattern across the table grain. “What has your vagabond done? Stolen a chicken?” she teased.
Gisburne glared at her. “He’s a vagabond. That’s enough.”
“Grandfather would never chase after a vagabond,” Enide murmured.
“No, your grandfather only chases after silly dreams.”
“Silly dreams, are they? Like what? Fighting over causes and not borders?”
“He wants to be Lancelot and Roland!”
“He wants to be a knight: something you’ve obviously forgotten!” Enide said.
Gisburne stood up. “I don’t have to listen to this. I’m leaving.”
Enide rose as well. “No, please don’t do that. Let me go instead. You might think more clearly
if you had a few drinks!” She raised her chin and marched away to the
accompaniment of applause, shouts and laughter.
She had just reached the door when a new patron entered the alehouse. He
started when confronted by the noise. Then his eyes widened when he saw the
lady. Surprise evolved into fear when a tall nobleman approached. Gisburne
had been heading towards Enide, but his gaze fell on the stranger,
nevertheless. The two measured each other: the hunter surveying his quarry,
the prey desperately conceiving a means of escape.
In the time it took Gisburne to reach for his sword, the vagabond had
grabbed Enide. The knight’s hand remained poised above his scabbard, as the
vagabond pressed a dagger against Enide’s throat.
“You move and I’ll kill her!” the vagabond said.
“You won’t escape," Gisburne stated, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
"I have men all over Nottingham.”
The vagabond was backing out of the alehouse. “If you have any sense, you’ll keep them away from me,” he
answered, moving into the street. “I might get nervous, see? And it would be
terrible if my dagger slipped and – ”
Gisburne quickly craned his neck, but both the vagabond and Enide had disappeared. In the silence that ensued,
Gisburne could hear several gasps and excited whispers. Then he heard a
shrill neigh and the sound of hooves against cobblestones.
He was outside the alehouse in an instant. He managed to catch a fleeting
glimpse of Enide and the vagabond before leaping to his horse.
* * * *
“Supper will soon be ready,” Tuck told Sir George.
“What? Another meal?” the knight exclaimed. “Why, it seems as if only an
hour has passed since the last one.”
John chuckled softly. “It has!”
“Ah...Fasting is going to be very difficult after all
this.”
“Surely devout prayer would be enough,” Tuck said, who was still determined
to alter the knight’s method of questing.
Sir George smiled but shook his head.
“Well, all the more reason to partake of our hospitality,” Robin replied,
directing this statement at their guest, while patting Tuck sympathetically on the shoulder. He then lifted
his head, observing the dark clouds looming above them. The trees groaned and twisted in the wind. “It looks like there could be a storm tonight.”
“Then I’m glad I decided to stay here by the fire, with good food and even
better company,” Sir George said, thumping a startled Will Scarlet on the
back. “I pity the poor devil who is out on a night like this.”
He squinted in the darkness, but it was no use. The moon had hidden behind
the clouds. Gisburne pulled back on the reins, and his horse halted
willingly. There was nothing else he could do. He would have to turn back
and search again in the morning. Sherwood was no place to be at night, not
that Gisburne allowed himself to believe in spirits. However, he did believe
in cutthroats and the reputation they had acquired, Robin Hood and those
wolfsheads aside.
Gisburne was about to wheel his horse around and head back to Nottingham,
when he spotted a flicker of light in the distance. He thought it could be
Robin Hood’s camp for an instant, but then logic informed him that they
would have made their camp much deeper in the forest. Only a fool or a
stranger would choose a spot this close to Nottingham, the knight thought.
Then he smiled. Could the vagabond be that stupid? Gisburne decided to test
his theory.
His horse was determined that it was time to return to Nottingham and the
stables, but Gisburne’s own stubbornness prevailed in the end. Soon the
horse was heading deeper into the forest at a brisk, if reluctant, canter.
The fire pierced through the trees like a beacon. However, it was farther
away than Gisburne had first suspected. He would expect to come upon it, but it
would continue to elude him. He was beginning to wonder if he had just
imagined seeing the fire, when he finally tracked down its location.
He left his horse outside the glade, throwing the reins over a low-hanging
branch. He crept carefully towards the camp. Fortunately, the wet earth
helped to muffle his movements, and there were no dry twigs to snap beneath
his feet.
Gisburne was now close enough to observe a figure, but it was only when he
caught sight of the dark coil of hair that he could be sure it was Enide.
As he burst into the clearing, she rose, as if to greet him, then screamed.
Gisburne was confused for an instant, but soon understood.
His head almost rattled with the force of the blow. He swayed, overwhelmed
by dizziness and pain. The flames of the fire seemed to swell and intensify,
before darkness mercifully descended.
