Post of the Month

~ February 2011 ~

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Gisbourne/Abbot Hugo ~ Written by Annie & Nikke.  Posted on the HoS Yahoo group June 2009.

The sun had gone down, leaving a dim afterglow, and the summer moon was rising over the dark shape of Nottingham Castle's outer wall. Beyond it, the town was sleepy, in front of Gisbourne, the courtyard was peaceful. The watch had just changed at the gate, and the initial flurry over his arrival back from the tourney at Castle Acre had died down.

He watched his new destrier - once owned by de Vere - being led away, then surveyed the castle courtyard in the dusk for a moment with a rare sense of contentment before turning to enter the castle via a side door.

He allowed the feeling of contentment to continue as he strode down the passage towards the Great Hall. His aches and pains from the tourney were ebbing, he felt pleasantly tired and would sleep well tonight, buoyed up by the fact that he now owned land and monies he had not thought possible. New armour, too and a valuable horse. De Vere's destriers had a reputation for being well-trained, and Gisbourne looked forward to trying out the creature in future melees.

However, now there was the prospect of being back at Nottingham to deal with. Not so bad. Things had seemed peaceable enough as he'd ridden through the the streets. There would be accursed paperwork to deal with on the morrow but first he would warm his belly with the best wine from de Rainault's cellar.

De Rainault....Gisbourne smirked to himself. Wherever the man was at the moment, news would surely reach him of the tourney and of he wearing the Earl's colours. The Earl, too. It had been an impulsive step to take, but Guy believed that fortune favoured those who were bold enough to grab their chances.

Baldwin the steward now melted out of the shadows and fell into pace beside him as he turned a corner of the passageway and it widened into a thoroughfare near the kitchen with lighted firebrands on the stone walls and boys passing to and fro with dishes and food.

"My lord," Baldwin greeted.

"Any problems here whilst I was away, Baldwin?" Guy asked, removing his gauntlets.

Baldwin took the cloak that Gisbourne shrugged off as they walked down the passage together. "No, my lord. Oh, and the fine given to Maybury was met. Two men from that village brought it in this morning."

Guy frowned in thought. "They were lucky. I didn't think they had enough money to meet that fine."

He became aware of the servers carrying the food dishes past him, ducking their heads as they passed. "You organised already a meal for my return? That was swift indeed. You knew of my imminent arrival, Baldwin?"

"Not exactly, my lord," Baldwin sneaked a sideways glance at Gisbourne, secretly relishing in breaking the next bit of news to see the knight's reaction. "The meal was ordered up by Abbot Hugo."

Guy inwardly groaned. "He's here? What the hell for."

Baldwin took the gauntlets Gisbourne thrust at him. "I do not know, my lord. He arrived before sundown with a small company of guards, and waits in the Great Hall."

In the Great Hall, Hubert stood awkwardly at the end of the dais table, watching on as serving boys laid the dishes before the Abbot. He glanced up as Gisbourne entered the Great Hall.

Hugo sat in prime position at the dais, hands resting on the table, watching with grim satisfaction as the food was laid on the table; manchet loaves, two green cheeses, some roast pork, and a broth of mutton and barley. His eyes flicked up from the wine jug the serving boy had just placed on the table to watch as Gisbourne entered. "Ah, there you are, Gisbourne. They said you'd be returning before nightfall."

"What are YOU doing here?" Gisbourne demanded as he strode up to the dais table.

Hugo glared at the knight from the depths of the Sheriff's ornately carved chair. "Nice to see you too, Gisbourne. I have business with the Deacon of St Peter's in Nottingham on the morrow. I thought I would arrive early and avail myself of your....hospitality," and he waved a gloved hand at the array of food on the table.

Gisbourne stumped up the steps of the dais and came to halt across the table before Hugo. He glared at his former employer. "Oh DID you, now."

"I wouldn't start getting too big for your boots, if I was you, Gisbourne," Hugo sneered. "You're only acting in command here at Nottingham. The Castle is still my brother's to administer, so I am perfectly within my rights to stay here for a night or two should I wish."

"And your men and their horses are busy consuming the food intended for MY men and THEIR horses, I suppose." Gisbourne seated himself at the dais table across from Hubert and reached for the wine jug a fraction of a moment before Hugo did. He smirked at the Abbot and lifted the jug and poured himself wine into the beaker set before him.

"You can eat with us," Gisbourne nodded to Hubert who still stood at the end of the dais table. "Sit. I want to hear what's been happening in Nottingham these past couple of days and you have eyes and ears enough about the streets."

Hubert sat at the end of the dais table, and a serving boy obligingly filled a clay beaker with ale and set it before him. A basket of bread was near enough for him to take a small manchet without stretching his arm across the table and blocking the Abbot's route to the food, which would have earned withering indignation from the elder de Rainault. A warm manchet loaf of fine milled flour was better than the maslin bread the soldiers would be served this night, and he had a loose tooth causing him pain. Green cheese and soft bread would be kind to his tooth, and this ale was of the first steeping and would be strong enough to ease the pain.

The wine smelt sweet, the bread was fresh, the fatty slices of pork glistened in the light of the candle-wheel suspended from the rafters above the dais table. The three men plunged into what was on offer on the stained oak table.

"I hear you had some luck at the Castle Acre tourney, Gisbourne," Hugo remarked at last after a good few minutes of silence spent satisfying hunger.

"Not merely luck," Gisbourne said.

Hugo's piggy eyes surveyed him. "What did you gain?"

Gisbourne rarely had the chance to boast so made the most of it now. "Ralph De Vere's best destrier, his armour, and his estate in Northamptonshire."

"You're rising high in the world, Gisbourne," Hugo sneered, "you'll be looking for a bride next to leap higher via the marriage bed."

Gisbourne felt his face colour. How did the Abbot know his thoughts had played upon possible mates on the journey home? Marian of Leaford still figured amongst them.

Hugo was watching Gisbourne's face. "She's as thin as a stick, Gisbourne, and thin women like that don't bear brats. You'll want sons to start a legitimate line coming from you and your new-found wealth and linkage to the Earl of Huntingdon."

"Think of the pedigree there to ally myself with, though," Gisbourne said. "Sir Richard of the Lea's daughter."

"Loxley's widow," Hugo cut.

Gisbourne raised an eyebrow. "So she's still at Halstead Priory, then, since the outlaws left her there six weeks ago?"

Hugo stabbed up several more slices of pork and transferred them to his platter.

"Yes. I spoke with the Prioress several days ago."

"And Marian of Leaford is taking Holy orders?"

"No. Being cared for. Her mind's addled, according to the Prioress. Grief over that rebel bastard Loxley. She's turned her back on her forest friends, it would seem. And turned back to the Church for consolation." A smile played about Hugo's lips. "The nuns at Halstead are looking to her, giving her light duties, but she's far from being in a fit state to be taking Holy Orders."

"I see." Gisbourne stared down into his goblet cupped in his hands.

"Sir Richard of the Lea is inclined to leave her there at the moment. She's off his hands there and seems happy enough, and he's one of those odd fathers who subscribe to the idea of their offspring being happy as all that matters," Hugo gave a thin laugh.

Gisbourne afforded a small smile.

Hugo leaned his elbow on the table and waved his knife with a slice of apple on the end of it at the knight. "Lot of if's concerning any possible match between you and she, Gisbourne. IF Sir Richard were agreeable. If SHE were - thoughheaven knows why that should be considered - still, you don't want a woman who on your betrothal night will knee you in the groin and seek to stab you with a knife concealed under her pillow."

Gisbourne huffed into his goblet. "Women like that can be tied down to the bed during the act. In fact, that makes the whole event more of a pleasure." He contemplated with sudden delight the image of Marian spreadeagled below him tied to the bed and helpless, writhing on her back as she received him. Loxley's ghost would no doubt spin in his unmarked grave.

"More pleasure for YOU, maybe," Hugo observed acidly.

Hubert at the end of the dais table kept his eyes on his platter as he ate, but was listening. He recollected the fair-haired woman Gisbourne had been on the verge of raping by the river near Elsdon only several days ago, before he and a cluster of his men had come across them. He still remembered the incrediable composure and dignity in the woman's eyes as she had met his and pulled her bodice back across to cover her naked breasts. He knew well what his master was like, but there had been something of that situation so closely averted that spoke of personal grudge on Gisbourne's part towards the woman.

"Have you had word from your brother recently as to when he will be returning, my lord Abbot?" Guy asked at last out of the silence.

Hugo leaned back in the chair, picking on a mutton bone. "No. I intend writing to him on the morrow however." He shot Gisbourne an amused sly sideways glance. "What's the matter, Gisbourne. Getting too comfortable in my brothers chair here and disliking the prospect of moving from it?"

Gisbourne rose from the table. "It's been a long day. I'm away to my bed. Hubert-" the Captain uneasily jerked to his feet, "I'll take a turn of the courtyard before I go to my bed - you will walk with me and bring me up to date with all that has been going on here during my absence."

"Yes, my lord," Hubert replied.

"About my letter to my brother," Hugo sneered across the dais table as Gisbourne turned to leave. "Do I include the news of your distinguishing yourself at the tourney wearing the Earl of Huntingdon's colours?"

Guy smirked. "Why not. Give your brother something worrisome to think about."

"My pleasure," Hugo said with malicious enjoyment.

Gisbourne inclined his head to the Abbot and left the Great Hall.