Everything is a Choice

Chapter 14

Previously...

“Look at you!” I shout. “All of you, taken in by him because he’s finding you decent food and a comfortable bed at night.  Can’t you see what he’s doing?”

“Oh, come on,” Allan scoffs.  “You don’t seriously think he’s doing all this just to split us up, do you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what?  You wanted us to work with him, to accept him, despite everything he’s done, and now you’re saying you want us to ditch him.”

“I just wanted to understand,” I say. “To make some sense of why he did what he did.  I—” I turn away, feigning interest in the torrential rain and a sudden flash of lightning that hits close by. “I didn’t say I wanted to marry the man.”

Much and Allan pretend to laugh, as though I’ve made a joke, and they also pretend to be fascinated by the storm, while I stroke my horse’s mane in a feeble attempt to hide my hurt.

Much, my friend, you were right. Gisborne is coming between us.

Chapter 14

We meet Gisborne at the crossroads, just outside Saint-Étienne, as arranged. A passing monk had informed us of a farmstead whose owners generously offer travellers shelter and food in exchange for a small amount of coin.

As usual, towards late afternoon, Guy had ridden ahead to arrange our overnight accommodation. I still think it might be a good idea to steal his coin – I hate being beholden to him – but I can’t summon up the energy to do it on my own and none of the gang seem willing to help me, partly because they think Gisborne finds better places to stay than I would and partly because he’s got himself a new sword, which is never off his hip.

“Should my ears be burning, Locksley?” Guy slides the saddle from his dark brown mare. 

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re late.”

“We were caught in that storm; you must have ridden through it. Our horses got spooked so we took shelter until it passed.”

“Thought maybe you’d decided to part company with me.”

I hurriedly turn towards my mount, untying the pack strapped behind the saddle.

“Talked you out of it, did they?” Guy unbuckles his horse’s bridle and, with a slap on its hindquarters, sends his mare galloping off into a fenced meadow. “So, are you still planning on killing me when we get back to England?” he asks. 

I’m not sure whether he’s joking or not.

“Actually, I might do it sooner than that.  One less mouth to feed.” I’m not sure whether I’m joking either.

Guy turns his attention to the barn where we are to spend the night. I follow his gaze and see Much standing outside the barn’s double doors.  He appears to be complaining about something to our host.  Even though he’s learned a few French words from me, it’s obvious he’s making no sense at all.  

“He’s heading for a thick ear if he keeps that up,” Gisborne says, a smile tugging at his lips.

Hell, I think, he’s even warming to Much.

Gisborne turns to regard me.  “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“What?”

Ignoring my question, he starts fiddling with the cinch on my horse’s saddle.