The Tempest: A Guy of Gisborne Story Read online

  From close by he thought he heard Hood shouting a denial, but the words were lost when part of the tunnel came crashing down. Guy felt a sudden blow to the head. He could feel himself falling…and then all went black around him.

  Chapter 18

  Dim light glowed against his closed eyes and a soft breeze brushed his face. Fresh air…not the damp, sour smell of the castle dungeons. He blinked, and felt a slight weight over part of his body. Gaining his senses, he saw that part of a wall had fallen over him, leaning against another wall in a way that left him cocooned in the rubble. As his head cleared fully, he realized that most of the corridor where he’d been standing had collapsed, except for the one small space he was in. By some miracle he was alive, and testing his limbs, he found he hadn’t been crushed or mangled. But he didn’t dwell on amazement. Moving carefully, praying that the wall would not collapse, he wriggled out from under the debris. He coughed, the dust in the air choking him. He shook his head…and suddenly remembered everything.

  Cassia. His last sight of her had been of the straw being lit at her feet, of her about to be put to death. But Hood had said she was alive. Had he rescued her? Had he taken her back to his camp? Desperate for answers, he slowly stumbled to his feet and rushed forward…only to be stopped by a startling sight. There, not far from where he stood, was Robin of Locksley, pinned under the heavy weight of stones. Guy went to him, prying away the piles of rock and mortar that covered him. He was alive, but barely. Most of his body had been crushed in the collapse. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth, and Guy could hear him gasping. It was a pitiful site, even for his mortal enemy, and he felt a wave of pity come over him. But other matters suddenly flooded his mind, selfish intentions as they might have been, and he took hold of Hood’s shirt.

  “Locksley, can you hear me? Where is the girl? What have you done with her?”

  Robin wheezed, his voice barely audible. “He is taking her to Marseilles, by way of Portsmouth.”

  “He? Who? Who is taking her to Marseilles!” It was a demand, not a simple question, for he could see death taking its hold. Hood gave a gasp. He let out a gurgle, his body shaking…and then nothing. The air slowly escaped his lungs, the light of life fading from his eyes. He was dead, and the answer gone with him.

  All around him was chaos, people running to and fro. Hood was dead. The Sheriff was dead…and Cassia was gone.

  He rose to his feet, rushing away from the scene, done with Nottingham and all the misery it had ever brought him. Only Cassia mattered to him nw. He rushed towards the castle stables, needing to find a horse, and fast. He was shocked to find the building intact, and even more shocked to see his own familiar horse among the pack. Briwere had probably kept the animal with the intent of selling him, but had never gotten the chance. But it didn’t matter now. Rushing in, he saddled the horse fast and jumped on its back.

  He arrived at Chenivier in barely five minutes, leaping from his mount and barreling through the front doors of the house. He flew past the shocked servants in a rush for his bedchamber, where he emptied a jeweled box of its contents. Dumping the gems and gold coins into a velvet purse, he rushed back out again and leapt upon his horse. Bone weary, battered and disheveled…crazed with intent…he started to ride hard towards the coast.

  *****

  As he went, a stark realization came over him. Whoever had taken her was well on the road ahead. In the time he’d lain senseless under the castle remains, they’d had many hours to travel…and in his condition, he might kill himself with the effort of trying to catch up. Portsmouth was at least two days away, and not even the fastest horse in the world would make it in much less time. For hours he rode on, fighting against the realities of the situation and the desperation to get to her. But the realities eventually won out. He’d not slept properly in days. He’d hardly eaten. From the abuse he’d endured at the hands of his captors, and the collapse of the castle walls, he was battered and bleeding. He was in no shape to go much further, and he knew he must see to himself.

  It was dark when he came to a small village, where he at last consented to stopping for the night. His horse was tired, and it wouldn’t do to kill the animal who had brought him this far on his journey. Staggering to a nearby inn, he dug into his purse and found a coin, which he flipped to a stable boy who saw to his horse. He wandered into the establishment to order a room. At first the innkeeper looked at him suspiciously, wondering who this bedraggled, beaten man was and what his intentions were. But when Guy emptied a handful of coins on the table, the innkeeper’s eyes lit up.

  “At your service, my lord. There is a room at the left of the stairs. I’ll send a servant up right away.”

  Guy’s voice was ragged.

  “Find clean garments for me. Bring wine and a meal. And have a hot bath prepared.”

  The innkeeper nodded, scurrying away, and Guy dragged himself up the stairs.

  *****

  He sat in the steaming hot water, his elbows braced on his knees, his weary head in his hands.

  He was clean for the first time in days, having viciously scrubbed the filth and stench of the prison room off his body. His belly was full…his nerves slightly dulled from the wine. By all accounts, he should have been falling into a deep slumber.

  But his mind was too haunted to be claimed by sleep.

  Was she well? What if she was in the hands of someone who meant her harm? Imagining her at the hands of some brute, he trembled with rage.

  If anyone dares harm her, I will sever their cowardly limbs from their bodies.

  Had the fire touched her in any way? Hood had said she was alive. But what of it? Had she been burned by flame or poisoned by smoke?

  How much damage had been done before she’d been saved? Did she know he was alive? Would she still be in Marseilles when he got there? It was maddening to think of travelling so far, only to find her gone.

  No, he thought, shaking his head wildly. She must be there.

  He feared for the loss of his sanity at the idea of her being gone. But he would not rest until he found her again. She was his life, and nothing mattered to him but having her back.

  With fierce determination he rose from the bath, drying himself thoroughly before slipping under the clean sheets. As soon as dawn came he would go after her. He would have her back, and that was all there was to it. For a few short hours, he slipped into a deep sleep.

  But late in the night, he suddenly came awake. He tossed and turned, wavering between despair, hope, and rage, as his mind went wild with a terrifying thought.

  What if her husband was alive?

  He sat up in bed, breathing fast with fear. His hands came up to cup his mouth.

  What if Edwin Middleton had returned to claim what was rightfully his? Thoughts of his previous dream…of the man on the white horse, taking her away…tore at his mind and ravaged his heart, and he found himself fighting back a lump in his throat.

  It was unthinkable. Cassia…his woman, his life…with someone else. Being held. Being kissed. Being…

  He shook his head. Incensed…horrified at the thought of her with lying with another man, he rose up from the bed in a mad dash of movement. He prowled the floor, coming to stand before the window. Placing his hands upon the casement, he hung his head…letting out a shuddering sigh.

  His pain was sharp and sickening, a barbed thing that could not be extracted from his chest. His head began to wag in denial.

  Oh God, how can I let her go? I cannot give her up…I cannot live without her.

  She could not be lost to him. To lose her love would be his end. Already he felt crippled by the silence surrounding him…the empty space. A reminder that he was alone, and that the distance between them was vast.

  But he did not care how long it took. He would have her back. And he did not care if her husband had reclaimed her.

  Cassia is mine. If he thinks to take her from me, he will suffer my wrath.

  If he had to, he would force his way in and st
eal her back. And this time he would not rest until they were far from any and all who thought to keep her from him.

  *****

  Cassia felt a constant jostling back and forth, and heard the sound of two male voices speaking quietly. Confused, unsure of where she was and why, she forced her heavy lidded eyes to open, looking up…and she jumped at the sight of a strange red-haired man, dressed in servants clothes. Another man was sitting beside him, this one fair-haired, dressed in the garments of a nobleman…and he seemed to look on her with concern. But all she could think was that she was being kidnapped.

  The smoke from the flames had made her dizzy, but the fire had not burned her. Someone had cut her bonds and taken her down from the cross, and now these men were taking her away to finish Briwere’s plan of murder. She was certain of it. And she was certain she would not let them. She had heard Guy’s voice calling for her, desperate in its woe. But then he was gone. Just before losing consciousness she had seen him being taken away…and she had to get back to him. If she had to gather Robin Hood and his gang to help her, she would.

  But first she had to get away from these men.

  She made a wild leap from the moving carriage, hitting the ground hard and rolling to absorb the impact. Then she was on her feet and running.

  But it wasn’t long before she heard one of her pursuer’s behind her…and he was shouting her name. How he knew her name, she cared not. All she knew was that she had to get away from him. She ran on, as wild and fast as her legs would carry her. But a hidden root suddenly caught her toe, and she tumbled to the ground. A moment later she felt hands grabbing hold of her, and without thinking she bit and clawed at her attacker, screaming for help…until her captor’s voice shouted over her.

  “Cassia! It is Stephen!”

  She went still, looking intently at his face. She knew those emerald green eyes…the very same eyes her father had possessed. But it couldn’t be Stephen. She shook her head in denial, trying again to free herself, clawing at his hands until he seized her wrists, shaking her.

  “It is I, you fool! I am your brother!”

  She shouted back in denial. “Liar! You cannot be Stephen! He was killed on the battlefield three years ago!”

  He shook his head. “No, Cassia. I am alive. And I have come back to reclaim what is left of my family.”

  Stunned into silence, unable to move, she felt him picking her up by the shoulders to embrace her. At first she remained stiff, unwilling to believe it was truly the brothr she’d lost all those years ago. But as he patted her back, speaking gently to her, she began to realize he was indeed real. The sound of his voice fell on her ears like an old sweet song. Still, it seemed too incredible to be believed.

  “Robin Hood told us you were dead. He told us you and Edwin had both been killed. He brought us Edwin’s ring and your dagger.”

  “I know he did. Edwin was indeed lost on the field, and I was near to joining him. But by the grace of God I survived. I came home weeks ago, only to find father’s grave, and you gone. I sought out Sophie, and she told me that you had vanished. I searched, but found no trace of you. Then I found Robin of Locksley a few days ago, and he helped me to rescue you. He also told me a wild tale about you and Sir Guy of Gisborne. Cassia, what happened?”

  Guy. At the mention of his name she came alert, recalling her last sight of him. She gasped, trying to pull away from Stephen’s arms.

  “I have to go back! Guy needs me! The Sheriff has him imprisoned!”

  He shook his head in denial. “You can do nothing for him now!”

  She pushed at his chest, furious at the thought that he would stop her.

  “You cannot keep me from him! I will go back if I have to walk every step of the way!”

  “You can do nothing for him now, Cassia…because he is dead!”

  His words were a slap in the face, stunning her into silence. She wagged her head, refusing to believe what he told her. It was impossible. She would not believe it.

  “You’re lying! He is alive, and I must go to him!”

  But the way he was looking at her…so solemn and serious. She felt herself crumbling inside as she looked in his eyes. His voice was gentle, full of sadness for her.

  “The castle was destroyed. I saw it with my own eyes. If he was within, he could not have survived.”

  With feeble hands she tried again to push him away, still refusing to hear what he was telling her. But he only held her close once again, trying to comfort her, and she felt her heart shatter as the truth dawned on her.

  “No, not Guy. Not my beloved Guy.”

  She began to sob uncontrollably against her brother’s shoulder. He picked her up, carrying her back to the waiting carriage. He spoke tenderly to her.

  “We shall travel to Marseilles, dear sister. King Richard has granted me a fine home there as a reward for my service to the crown. You shall live a better life there, I promise.”

  She wept bitterly, knowing a truth that he could not possibly fathom.

  Without Guy, there is no life left for me to live.

  *****

  The road to the coast was a ride of two long and wearisome days, and the sailing from Portsmouth to Cherbourg was not an entirely smooth one. The tedious journey tested the limits of all the passengers, particularly Stephen. His faithful servant, Chadwick, did his best to be cheerful. As they stood at the ship’s railing, he gave his master a pat on the back.

  “When we are home, my lord, the Baroness will welcome you with open arms and make you forget your troubles. As will the Mistress Katherine and Master Stuart.”

  Stephen smiled as he thought of his wife and two young children, waiting eagerly for him at home. Rosalyn was a good and generous wife. He felt he’d made a good choice of her from the ladies at court, for although she was born of noble blood and he was not, she did not secretly scorn him like many of the nobility had. His position as a Baron was given to him by the King, who looked with favor upon a young peasant soldier that had saved his life.

  But being on good terms with King Richard did not earn him respect among all of his peers, some of whom looked down their noses at him because of his lowly birth. Rosalyn, however, was a gracious and loving woman who accepted him as he was. She had blessed him with two healthy children and she kept his household running smoothly, and if the nobles at court talked ill of him, he cared not. He had a happy life and family, and that was all that mattered to him.

  He only wished his sister could look forward to such happiness. But seeing her as she was now, sinking into herself with deep misery, he wished he had been able to come back and find her much sooner.

  After his marriage nearly three years earlier, he had wanted to make the journey back to England. But when he found Rosalyn to be with child, he had not wanted to leave her. He had remained to witness the birth of his son that winter, and in the spring he attempted the journey to England, only to fall ill and be forced back. After a long recovery, he was surprised to find that his wife expected their second child. In November, just as Stuart was nearing two years of age, his darling Katherine had been born…and seeing her, he longed even more for the family he’d left behind. This past May he had reluctantly said goodbye to his wife and children and finally set out for the land of his birth. It had been his intention to bring both his father and Cassia back with him. But alas, it was not to be. And now he wondered if his sister thought to do herself a harm in some way.

  These several days she’d hardly said a word to him. At night he could hear her softly crying, and though he had tried to question her about Gisborne and why she was so affected by him, she refused to speak of it. What had Gisborne done to her to make her this way?

  He remembered the story Robin had told him…that Sir Guy had taken Cassia away to some hidden place, and the two of them had apparently had a love affair of sorts. But how could a woman have a love affair with a man such as him? He was a murderer, as cold and heartless as anyone could ever be. He’d destroyed a woman he’d
once been engaged to, for the love of God. He had been more monster than man. How could anyone love such a beast?

  He must used coercion…tricked her into living with him. Maybe he’d given her gifts and made her false promises. And she, being a vulnerable young woman, had believed his lies. It was hard to imagine his clever little sister being swayed by such tricks, but stranger things had happened. He was living proof of it.

  Despite the way she mourned his loss, he had to believe she would see the light in time. If Guy had been so worthy, he would have married her instead of keeping her as a mistress.

  But what did it matter now? Gisborne was dead, and no amount of grieving on Cassia’s part would restore him. She was better off as she was, with people who would love and care for her.

  He sighed, leaning out over the railing to watch the sea as it passed by, cresting in white swells against the side of the ship. He wished Rosalyn were here. And he felt great frustration in knowing that it would be many weeks before he saw her again. The journey from Nottingham to Marseilles was one of more than a thousand miles, and even with following seas and swift horses they might not cover more than thirty or forty miles in a day. It was a deplorable thought, and if his wife were here, at least he would have someone for comfort…and Cassia would have someone for female company.

  Women understood each other’s strange behaviors, and with her gentleness and soft spoken ways, his wife would have been just the right person to bring Cassia around. Perhaps when they got to Marseilles, she would improve. Surely the coastal breezes and the warmth of the Mediterranean would make her forget her troubles. Besides that, he was now a man of means, with a fine home and enough wealth to live a comfortable life, and he intended to see that she had everything a woman could ever need.