“Bess, please, help.”
Guy’s weight shifted as she wrapped a small but strong arm around his waist. He grunted and mumbled, “Thank you, goodwife.”
She pushed back his hood and his eyes widened. “Guy of Gisborne? The –”
“I know, Bess. I know, I’ll explain everything but we have to hide and please, I need him. I cannot lose him as well.”
Bess looked at me, really looked at me, her full mouth set in a grim line. She nodded once. “Alright, Will, let’s get this sorted out.”
Between us we half carried, half dragged Guy down the quiet street, most people in Nottingham helping the rain in dousing the fire.
“Around the back,” Bess said. “We’ll put you in the cellar. The doors are unlocked, we brought in new barrels earlier and Malcom –” her words became a meaningless blur as we worked through the rubbish in the alley to the small wooden gate behind the tavern.
We ducked through the archway and dragged Guy over the patch of garden Bess used for her herbs and some vegetables. The hens fluttered about my feet, enjoying the worms the rain released from the previously frozen ground, and made it to the cellar doors. Bess gave me back sole possession of Guy and opened the doors. The short narrow stairs were not made for two.
“Shit,” I muttered. I knew I’d drop him if we attempted the descent into darkness. I made a quick decision. “Sit,” I ordered. Guy’s legs folded more quickly than I anticipated and I almost dropped him down the hole regardless. When I made him safe on the edge, I jumped into the black, knowing the place well enough to do all this without the steps, and reached for his legs.
He peered at me through his thick dark lashes. “You know I’m dying right?”
“Fuck off,” I muttered. “Just slide off the edge, I’ll catch you.”
Guy mumbled something about my parentage and pushed off the edge. He dropped into the darkness and I stumbled back but kept us both upright. Bess hurried down the stairs. Without comment she struck a flint at the small lamp Malcom kept by the stairs and the cellar brightened with violent shadows.
The ceiling brushed my head and forced Guy to bend, but the cellar spread under the entire tavern so we had room to move about. There were barrels and brewing equipment all neat and tidy, with a system to the casks and earthenware bottles arranged in simple crates.
“This way,” Bess murmured.
I dragged Guy with me into the musty scented space and realised at long last the rain no longer pounded on my head and I could smell hops and yeast, the scent of home. The comfort it brought gave me new strength. I couldn’t think about Tuck, Marion or… anyone else right now. I had to focus on me and I had to focus on Guy.
“Here, Will, put him here, the hops sacks are soft.” Bess lifted the lamp and I sank down into the rough fabric. Guy rolled off my arm with a mewling cry of pain and closed his eyes. I looked at his face for the first time in a while and felt dread leak through me. His lips were grey, and his skin waxy and sweaty despite the rain. The tightness to his face made it clear his pain made every breath and movement a cruel torment.
“Oh, Guy…”
His eyes fluttered open and he reached for my hand, his fingers a fluttering bird, “Don’t, Will. This is not your fault.”
“No,” I cried out. “No, it’s not, it’s Robin’s. He lied to us. To me.”
Guy brought my hand to his lips. “Don’t, don’t be angry with him. He has his reasons and although we may never understand them, he cared for you.”
I whined in pain and sobs wracked my shoulders as I bent over his hand.
“Come now, Will, no time for all this nonsense, we have jobs to do,” Bess said, placing a warm hand on my soaking wet shoulder. “Let’s get things moving along so we don’t lose this man, if that’s what you want.”
Her scepticism didn’t stop her though and together we began to work.
35
BESS AND I STRUGGLED with Guy’s wounded shoulder and several other holes and bruises we found along the way. We removed the bolt, cleaned the damage, stitched and wrapped him up. Through the worst of it he made not one sound, just stared at me, giving his trust to the man he’d sworn his life to and trusting I’d fix it.
While Bess’s sure fingers, and my shaking ones, worked to keep Guy alive, I told Bess everything. Every event that had happened that day, every word of Robin’s betrayal, every insane raid we’d made on the sheriff’s men. Did it place her in more danger? Probably, but if we were found in the tavern they’d be dead anyway, they might as well know why.
By the time I finished and she’d finished with Guy, exhaustion nipped and bit. The scourge of Nottingham lay at my knees, a fragile collection of bones and flesh, his gaze on me peaceful now and his breathing better. It would take time but if we managed to keep the wound clean and our necks out of the noose, he’d live. Bess brought down blankets for us and a soil bucket, along with food and milk.
“Keep him warm, Will. I have to start work in the kitchen –”
“You’ll need help,” I said, cutting off her continued kindness.
“Not today. Tomorrow you will come upstairs and work as you would normally. Then I expect you to sing. None of these people at the keep know you are a minstrel, right?”
“No, they think I’m a thieving outlaw,” I muttered with more shame than I’d ever felt before at our actions.
“Good, then Will Scarlett needs to play for the Rising Sun again.”
“My lyre is in the forest,” I said. The misery of this small act of betrayal against my beloved instrument forced more tears from my eyes.
“We’ll find the old one, or I’ll buy you a new one. You and your man here will need money and I’ll have you come by it honestly,” she said in her firm, mother’s voice.
“Yes, Bess,” I said.
“Good. Now get some sleep.” She rose off her creaking knees. “You hear the chickens make a kerfuffle douse the lamp and keep quiet. They’ll get around to searching in the city for you at some point.”
“I’m sorry, Bess.”
She smiled and cupped my face in both her hands to look steadily into my eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, my love. You are my boy and I am so proud of you for trying to do something noble and right in this dark old world of ours.”
I gripped her wrists for a moment. “I love you.”
“I know, sweet thing.” She brushed my hair off my face as she had since she’d found the starving boys in her alley so long ago.
When she left us in the cellar Guy stirred. “She’s a remarkable woman, Will. You are lucky to have a mother who cares.”
“She’s not my mother.”
“Yes she is, blood doesn’t matter.”
I sniffed and nodded. “I know.”
During the time we’d worked on Guy we’d stripped almost all his clothing, but I remained in my damp woollens. With great care I began to divest myself of layers of wet wool and leather until I sat in the old sacks in linen undershirt and braies. I shivered from the bitter cold.
“Come, lie with me?” Guy asked.
I glanced at him. Those storm grey eyes were now feather soft and full of apprehension. “Did he really love me?” I asked Guy. It wasn’t a question that needed to be explained.
Guy tangled the fingers of his good hand in mine, which were slack in my lap. “I don’t know, Will. I don’t think I could recognise love in Robert Loxley but I think Robin Hood loved you.”
“I loved him.” I sniffed.
Guy’s fingers rubbed over my knuckles. “I know.”
“How did he stay dead for so long as Robert Loxley? Didn’t men recognise him in Rome or in France?” I asked.
Guy managed a vague shrug. “My guess? Pope Innocent saw a man he could use, convinced Robert to become Robin, or someone new, and he doesn’t look like the golden young man who began the Crusade with Richard. In those days he looked like a god of the light, not the dark as he does now. With his identity gone he became the perfect spy for Innoce
nt and Philip. Keeping Robert Loxley dead was important.”
“So why tell Marc the truth?”
“Shock value to unsettle the sheriff? Perhaps he was given orders to reveal himself at the right moment, a rallying point to give the northern barons a focus. Who knows, Will? Maybe we’ll never know.”
I sniffed and rubbed my face. “I told him so many secrets, why did I trust him?” I asked. Secrets dark enough to send my soul to Hell.
A small smile made Guy’s sadness so much sharper. “I forget how little we know each other. I guess you trusted him for the same reason you trusted me not to kill you that first day. For the same reason I fell in love with you so damned fast it’s made my heart ache with every moment I’ve spent away from you.”
I gasped at his declaration.
“You doubted me?”
I nodded. I needed his reassurance more than I needed air to breathe.
He squeezed my fingers and spoke with a soft lilt to his words I’d never heard from him before. He spoke from deep in his heart, “Don’t, Will, don’t doubt me. There is a light inside you I need. A warmth that keeps the ache from my bones. A tenderness that eases the scars I carry and a strength which makes the weight of my past a thing of no consequence. I am not your Robin Hood, I will never be that, but I will love you.”
“Can I be enough for you?” I asked.
“You can command me with a gentle word where other men have used whips and bindings to force me to their will. I am yours, I just have to hope I can be enough for you when I know your heart belongs to Robin as well.”
I smiled down at him and stroked his face. He turned into my touch, a pale flower seeking his sun’s warmth, and the privilege of earning Guy of Gisborne’s trust flooded my bones. I shifted at last and burrowed under the blankets, adhering to his side. “Just don’t lie to me, Guy.”
“Never, Will. I have things to tell you but I will never lie to you.” He placed a kiss on my head.
The wild cat I’d met just a few weeks before settled as I stroked his tight belly, the skin soft and hairless. “I have things to share with you as well.”
“Then we are equal in all things, as we always will be from this moment forward. I am an outcast at last and my only master is you, minstrel.” He said this with such quiet ownership I couldn’t deny the thrill chasing over my skin.
“I don’t want my heart to belong to Robin,” I whispered, even though tears pricked my eyes at the thought of him gone from my life.
Guy’s arm tightened around my back. “I think you need to decide that when you are less angry. He is important to you and rightly so. I loved him once. I know how it feels when it goes wrong and yet I would still listen to him over all other men except you.”
“What do we do next, Guy?” I asked into the quiet space between our heartbeats.
“We escape, and we find the others, we regroup and we keep fighting, Will. The people of Nottingham and Sherwood deserve to be free from Philip Marc. Robin’s betrayal doesn’t change that. We work for their future and make sure the fear of Robin Hood lives in the hearts of men who would be tyrants.”
I nodded, my eyes drifting shut as the magic of home and the safety of Guy’s heartbeat pulled me from the torment of the world and towards a new future.
Also available through Mirador Publishing:
The Prophecy
Vampire
All the following are M/M stand alone or series
Seelie
Unforbidden: A Queer Collection
Chords for the Dead
The Knights of Camelot Series:
Lancelot and the King
Lancelot and the Sword
Lancelot and the Grail
Lancelot’s Challenge
Lancelot’s Burden
Lancelot’s Curse
Betrayal of Lancelot
Passion of Lancelot
Revenge of Lancelot
Lancelot the Lost Years: The Spear
Sons of Camelot Series:
The Pendragon Legacy
The Du Lac Legacy
Albion’s Legacy
Find Sarah Luddington on Facebook and http://romanticadventures.net
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About the author
A little about me, I live in a tumble down house in the Southern mountains of Spain with my husband who writes comedy. We have far too many dogs. I’m crap at social media but I try and I’m not good at sharing my life, mostly because I can’t believe anyone would be interested.
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On a lighter note, I also love walking the hounds and trying to keep them out of trouble. I love my swords, bows and pretending to be what I secretly (“Yeah right, it’s such a secret.” Husband rolls his eyes at me), want to be – a knight. I’m a hopeless romantic who would love to rescue the princess or the prince and doesn’t really care what gender she is as she’s doing the rescuing just so long as the bad guys put up a good fight.
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Men of Sherwood (A Rogue's Tale Book 1) Page 30
