Sir Guy of Gisborne's Diary

Entry 21

Dear Diary, it's been a while. Things have happened. Hood and his gang broke into the sheriff's strong room while some idiot Bavarian count was playing at the sheriff's gaming tables. Marian got very lovey dovey with the count, so I wasn't that upset when the sheriff lost his money because at least it meant the count went back to Bavaria and I could get back to trying to win Marian, though it'll be a while I guess before she forgives me for burning down her house. I'll maybe have to up the size of my gifts. Also, be more careful about what I choose to give her. The fire tongs and toasting forks did not go down well!

A couple of weeks ago I had a disagreeable time that all started with a bunch of pesky children. They'd been playing in the forest and came across me testing out a new form of armour. First off, I should say that I don't actively hate children; it's just that their happy playing reminds me of how unhappy my childhood was. I had no friends, other than Robin of Locksley, as he was known then. Even he wasn't really my friend. He only let me hang around with him because it gave him an opportunity to tease me at every turn. Come to think of it, he still teases me whenever he has the chance.

Anyway, the boys who'd been playing in the forest saw the peasant I'd chained up wearing an armoured breastplate and surviving a bunch of arrows loosed at his chest. The armour was impenetrable. It was also the sheriff's new secret weapon, so the boys stumbling across it was unfortunate. I don't know what came over me, but I stopped my men from slitting their throats and instead ordered that they be tied up and later sent to work in one of our mines. From there on in, it all started to go horribly wrong.

First off, Hood managed to steal the box containing the special rocks the smith needed to make the special armour. Then he and his gang rescued the boys who knew the armour's special secret. (I would use a word other than special, but I've misplaced my thesaurus). Not quite all the boys, however, as I managed to snaffle one of them, so I had a hostage that I could trade for the box of rocks. I don't suppose I need to tell you, dear diary, that my plan failed spectacularly.

Before that, however, I did at least have one small moment of satisfaction, dare I say happiness. Naked from the waist up, I was trying on the special armour breastplate for size, when Marian unexpectedly turned up. I took off the armour and dismissed my servant. I wanted Marian to take a good look at what she was missing, what she could have had if she'd gone through with our wedding. She did indeed seem a little flustered by my bare flesh and when she took hold of my hand, offering friendship, as she put it, I came over all funny as I briefly imagined both of her hands pulling down my breeches and marvelling at my special rocks plus attachment. Whatever might or might not have happened between us, the moment was lost when my servant interrupted us telling me that there was a messenger from the sheriff waiting to talk to me. Marian left and I took a few moments to pet my special rocks and attachment before heading off to talk to the messenger, who turned out to be none other than my spy, Allan a-Dale.

The cheek of the man, sitting at my table, eating my food and drinking my wine. He handed me the sheriff's official seal. I asked him what Robin was going to do about recovering the boy. Diamonds for boy, he told me (diamonds = special rocks).

I knew there'd be some trick to it and a purse of coin loosened Allan's tongue further: Pitch, in a box containing the diamonds. Boy runs free, Robin fires a flaming arrow and pi-shoo! Bye-bye diamonds.

He told me he'd tell Hood that he'd been tumbled, that I had recognised him under the guard's disguise he was wearing and that we had a fight, which he nearly won, leaving me for near dead while he fled Locksley Manor dispatching guards as he went. With this, he stuffed another piece of chicken in his mouth. I slapped his cheek, hard. What was that for, he asked. Believability, I said, backslapping him a couple more times. So, dear diary, another moment of pleasure in my less than pleasurable life.

Once Allan had gone, I settled down at the table with the remains of my meal. I was still hungry when I'd finished as the outlaw had eaten a goodly part of it, but it didn't matter because there was plenty of wine left and I got mildly drunk. Before tumbling into bed, I stripped naked, put on the special armoured breastplate because it made me feel powerful and gave my special rocks and attachment a jolly good seeing to.

The next day, slightly hung-over but feeling full of bravado, I was ready to put the sheriff's plan into action. I had told him about the pitch-lined box, so when the swap - the boy Daniel for the black diamonds - was made, the sheriff poured the rocks into a sack, thus preventing Hood from firing a flaming arrow at it and making it go pi-shoo!

This time, I was wearing more than just a breastplate. Admittedly, I did feel a bit like a bizarrely animated tin man and I knew the look would never catch on. Plus, I had my leathers on underneath, so I was uncomfortably hot. Sweat had gathered under my armpits and around my special rocks and attachment. Hood's gang were busy keeping arrows trained on the sheriff's archers, so it was just Locksley and me. I had a whale of a time, slamming into him, his sword making no impact on my armour. My movements were less than balletic, but I didn't care. I was going to pound Robin Hood into a bloody pulp while his gang and the sheriff looked on, the first in horror and the latter impressed. But alas, dear diary, I expect you know what's coming by now. While Hood used his head, I was heading for a fall.

I didn't twig that the black liquid he threw over me was pitch until it was too late. One flaming arrow later, my special armour was ablaze. Oh, the indignity of it. Not only had I looked like an oversized child's toy tin man, now I was an oversized toy tin man with his pants on fire. I whirled my arms about in an effort to put out the flames, which was about as effective as pouring a cup of water on a forest fire. The sweat inside my trousers increased a thousandfold. Actually, I don't think it was sweat.

A large washtub saved me, though I regretted not making a more graceful entry having fallen backwards into it in my hurry to extinguish the flames. As if that weren't enough, Hood pounced on me, pulled off my helmet and breastplate and held a sword to my throat. Terrified, I added a little bit more water to the washtub. Hood threatened to drown me unless the sheriff gave him the black diamonds. After several more dunkings, when it was clear the sheriff couldn't give a toss about me, Marian came to my rescue. Holding a dagger to the smith - the only man west of Jerusalem who knew how to turn the black diamonds into special armour - she demanded the sheriff exchange the rocks for me. Knowing he had no choice, he did so. Hood then threw the sack of rocks into a fire where they exploded. I stumbled towards Locksley Manor, a soaking wet, bedraggled, fire-singed mess of a man.

Marian found me in the courtyard, removing the rest of the armour. I thanked her for saving me. I also pointed out that she had saved Robin and quizzed her on whether she was playing me for a fool and had been associating with the outlaw behind my back. She denied it, of course. The smith, meanwhile, declared that he could not work in such a chaotic environment and left. The sheriff was furious. I didn't give a rat's arse and retreated to my room. A servant brought me wine and offered to stoke the dying fire. I would have punched him in the face if I hadn't been so exhausted.

Several cups of wine later, I crashed onto my bed and fell asleep whereupon I dreamed that I'd turned into a giant firework, attached to a huge Catherine wheel. Robin Hood was firing flaming arrows at me and laughing. Marian was throwing buckets of water at me and laughing. Allan a-Dale was throwing half-eaten chicken pieces at me and laughing. Daniel and his friends were throwing big black rocks at me and laughing. It was not a happy dream.