Page 111 of Queen of Sherwood

Boys could easily be led astray, however. I knew that well.

As if on cue, I saw a young couple approaching on the other side of the hedges, eyes scanning the courtyard as the pretty woman called out, “Barry, are you out here?”

Hidden in the bushes, Barry’s voice sounded like a muffled monster through the wreaths. “There is no one by that name out here, madam.”

The woman glanced at her paramour and smiled wryly. “Apologies, oh great creature of the deep. Is Sir Barry out here, perhaps?”

I guided the boy through the hedges by the shoulder, leading him to the cobblestones.

“I’m only teasing,” Barry said. He looked up at my dark countenance. “I was playing find-the-squire with Uncle Guy.”

I was not the boy’s uncle. Still, I saw no point in dashing his beliefs.

The woman crossed her arms and smiled at me. “Oh? And how did you fare, brave knight?”

Barry hung his head. “I got caught. As usual.”

The woman giggled. Her dark hair blew in the breeze, eyes glittering when they met mine.

Her husband looked to me, over my shoulder. His smile froze on his face, flipping to a frown. His body went tense as he murmured, “Sir Guy . . .”

I caught his tone and heard the boots behind me. Lifting my brow, I turned.

Six Nottingham soldiers approached, armed for battle.

“Who are they, Uncle Guy?” Barry asked.

Puckering my lips, I sighed. “Rapscallions, Sir Barry.” Then I crouched again, put my hand on his head, and pushed him along. “Go be with your parents now, lad. I’ll take care of this.”

“Will you be all right? Do you need assistance?”

I chuckled. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, boy.”

With that, Barry nodded and rushed away to join his guardians. His red hair flopped against his head. When he got to them, he asked, “When will I see you again, sir? It’s been too long.”

I stood to my full height, my black cloak swishing behind me. Aye. And I fear it will be even longer from here on out. “Soon,” I lied.

The woman and husband gave me stern nods, then turned away with the lad to retreat to their lavish manor on the hillside.

I wheeled around and crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s this all about, soldiers?”

They had splayed out in a shield wall, as if preparing for a brawl. One of them looked ready to piss himself, and another tried to hide his shaking hands.

These six were much more scared of me than I was of them. For good reason.

“S-Sir Guy of Gisborne,” said the front-most, young soldier, trying to stand tall. “You are under arrest for conspiring against the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

I SAT IN MY CELL WITH my feet propped up on a small table in front of me. The guards had given me preferential treatment with this larger cell, yet it still stank of a stale, damp jailhouse. The walls were cold stone, and the incessant dripping of water annoyed me to no end.

George kept me waiting for hours. I understood he was trying to frustrate me, and it worked.

Once he finally arrived, with two soldiers in tow, he stood at the gate on the other side of the bars.

“How the mighty have fallen, eh?” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Sheriff George looked crestfallen. For all his bluster and bravado, he stared at me like a stray brother. He confirmed his expression a moment later, saying, “You disappoint me, Guy.”

I stood from my bench and approached the gate, noticing how he backed up a step even though he had iron bars separating us and I was unarmed, while he had two swordsmen right next to him.

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