Sir Guy of Gisborne's Diary

Entry 13

Miserable Day (Part 1)

I threw a party yesterday to celebrate the king's birthday. I'd sooner be celebrating the king's death, but that would screw up my chances of marrying Marian who promised to marry me when the king returns to England, so, for the moment at least, I must keep reminding myself to utter long live King Richard at every opportunity.

So yes, I had a party, a small gathering at Locksley. To be honest, it would have been smaller (just Marian, Edward, the servants and me) but let's just say I coaxed a few nobles and townsmen and their wives to attend. I provided wine and nibbles. Marian chastised me saying that pork scratchings and sausage meat rolls hardly constituted a feast, but I'll be damned if I'm spending all my hard won coinage toasting a king I'd rather see six feet under.

My real reason for the party, in fact, was to announce Marian's betrothal to me. I figured that if I made it official she would be less likely to try to wriggle out of it. Not that I thought she would after I'd made it clear to her following the necklace business that only I could protect her and her father from the sheriff.

I noticed she was staring daggers at me as I made the announcement, and when I held up her arm to show off her betrothal ring it was like lifting a lead weight such was her resistance to me. I must remember never to challenge her to an arm wrestling contest.

Despite the somewhat lacklustre applause and good wishes from my guests and the nibble bowls being empty by this time, I thought the party was going with a swing. Trust Robin bloody Hood to go and spoil it.

He was on the landing at the top of the stairs, which means he got in by way of an upper floor window. Damn the man and his window entrances. Why can't he use the door like everyone else? Of course, all the ladies think it's ever so dashing and wonderful. Truth is, I tried it myself once, thinking to impress Marian. For my troubles, I ended up with a black eye and a ricked ankle. It made her laugh, though, and women are supposed to fancy men who amuse them, though perhaps that means laughing with them rather than laughing at them. After that bumbling entrance, my gift of a bunch of beheaded roses didn't exactly set her heart all of a flutter. In fact, she ridiculed me by saying to her maidservant: put these stems in a vase of water would you, Mary.

Hood makes it look so easy. He could probably scale a three-storey house and jump in through a window balancing a stack of plates on his head while juggling oranges, the cocky git.

I surmised that offering him a bowl of non-existent party nibbles was unlikely to make him leave. Moments later, his pesky gang arrived.

Hood demanded that everyone remove their jewellery and valuables and hand them to his manservant, who I noticed had found a lone bowl of Twiglets. Having little choice, I told my assembled guests to do as the outlaw asked. Then he had the audacity to prize Marian's betrothal ring off her finger. Incensed, I went for him with sword and dagger. After a few parries, Hood somehow got hold of my dagger and pinned one of my arms to the wall by driving the blade through the sleeve of my jacket. I wrenched the pinned arm from the wall ripping my sleeve as I did so. Robin's grin turned into a wide-eyed gape and, just for a second, I wondered if he was recalling his own noble clothes being torn and that we shared a dislike of wearing ripped clothing. However, it was only for a second because I then realised what he was actually registering was the black wolverine tattoo on my arm sporting a neat white scar across it, courtesy of him slashing it in the Holy Land when I tried to kill the king.

Surprise, I said, as though I'd performed some party trick by pulling a dove out of my ear or hot chestnuts from my nostrils. I don't think I've seen the outlaw looking this shocked since the day, as lads, he caught me at the back of the tanner's workshop, rolling around in a pile of leather off-cuts, noticeably aroused.

Someone warned Hood that the sheriff was on his way and the Saracen boy pushed the dazed outlaw towards the door. I acted quickly and punched the boy in the back with the butt of my dagger, knocking him to the floor. Meanwhile, the rest of the gang, Hood included, made their escape.

I ran outside to chase after Hood, who had Marian's ring. She implored me to let it go, but I wasn't having it, so I grabbed a horse and rode after him.

As you've probably already guessed, oh silent papery diary of mine, things did not get any better from here on in. In fact, I really should have cut my losses, headed back into the house, dismissed everyone, finished off the Twiglets and fashioned Marian a nice leather ring tooled with the words 'Guy's Forever and Ever'. Instead, I kept galloping after Hood.

I will write what followed shortly, for my hand tires, the light grows dim and I have a sudden craving for Twiglets on toast and a bucketful of ale, even though I know I'll be running to the garderobe all night as a result.