How The Sheriffs Guard Got Their Feathers.

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How The Sheriffs Guard Got Their Feathers.

Sir Guy of Gisbourne stood straight backed, he tried to restrain the eye rolling, and failed. His attempts at maintaining a professional bearing did that a lot these days.

“A clue Gisbourne…” The sheriff pointed theatrically to his own face. “Read-my-lips…” then mouthed slowly and silently, “I-don’t-care.”

“But my lord I…”

The sheriff gave the handsome henchman a pointed, wide eyed stare, raised a finger to his lips for silence, jerked his head in dismissal, and returned his attention to his hysterically twittering birds.

The master at arms gritted his teeth, bent a negligible bow, and stalked from the room.

“Damn impudent pup.” Vaisey made kissy faces at a pair of tiny, frantic birds. “Now you like your feathers, don’t you my little pretties?” A thought crossed his nasty mind and he clapped gleefully. “Oh, shall we see what you look like without them, hmm?”

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“Right! In accordance with instructions from the Lord Sheriff of Nottingham, and following your last unsuccessful attempts to capture the miscreant Robin Hood and his known criminal associates.” Gisbourne coughed and lowered his voice to a mumble. “Vis-à-vis…them being disguised as us…” He pulled himself straight, flexed his chin, stretched his neck and sniffed. “All members of the sheriff’s personal guard will now wear these in their helmets.” With a somewhat embarrassed gesture he produced two long feathers. One black, one bright yellow.

There was a collective groan from the assembled men. A couple in the back row sniggered at the masculine double-entendre. There was even guffaw or two. Chuckled words caught Gisbourne’s ear.

“I’ve ‘erd of ‘avin’ a feathers up yer arse, but…”

“Silence!” The master at arms thundered. The embarrassment register hit one million. “These…” He waved the offending finery aloft, trying to inject a note of martial gravity into his voice. “Will be worn at all times to identify the wearer as a member of the sheriffs personal guard.” He paused. “Do you understand?”

The men mumbled and sniggered.

“Do-you-understand?”

“Yes sir.” The not-so-elite guard stirred sluggishly to attention as Gisbourne turned on his heel to stride majestically away.

“Bet ‘e don’t ‘ave ta wear ‘em!”

“Nah, ‘e just sticks ‘em up the sheriff’s arse.”

This was followed by almost more laughter than Guy could stand. It occurred to him that perhaps he should reprimand the guards in question. But what would be the point, it would just drag the humiliation on. And anyway he was considering whose arse would look better with the feathers adorning them, Marian’s or Robin’s.

Definitely not the sheriffs!!!!

“You fink ‘e's takin' 'em home for 'is 'elmet?” One of the guards sniggered to his mate.

“What, Gisbourne's todger in fancy feathers?” He looked sceptical. “Nah…”

They looked at each other, and then in unison shook their heads. “Nah…”

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