Grant What I Wish

Epilogue. The Game Begins

West of Shrewsbury, England

1204

The rider paused on the horizon, pulling up his horse to wipe the rivulets of perspiration from his eyes. Narrowing his gaze, he could see the spires of the village in the distance. A feeling of relief and excitement swept through him, making him forget his fatigue. He was nearly there, after a long and monotonous trip. The desert had been beautiful but unchanging in appearance, and he had feared he had lost his way numerous times. With the help of his companion, he had managed to stay on the route set for him, and had made his way to the port city where he had been able to board a ship for England. Once there, a guide had helped him find his way through the lush forests and green meadows to London’s dirty streets. From there, it had not taken him long to establish the route he must take to Shrewsbury, his destination.

Setting spurs to his horse’s flanks, he forced the tired animal on, knowing that soon he would find water and feed for his steed, refreshments for himself and his companion, and a warm welcome from his brother. He had travelled long distances these past weeks, but his mission was important and the news he brought was critical. Leaning over his horses’ neck, he breathed a few words of encouragement and saw the animal’s ears prick up in anticipation. Tired though the creature was, he picked up his pace and sped onward toward the village that was his master’s destination.

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The mid-day sun had burned through the morning mist, warming the day. Even given the chill that remained in the air, Guy shook his head and swiped the back of his wrist over his forehead to keep the sting of sweat from his eyes. He had stripped to the waist for the task that faced him: the mending of several rotting walls in his stables.

He had worked steadily since dawn, and was nearly finished. He knew that soon the bell would ring for the mid-day meal. His mouth quirked in a satisfied smile at the thought of dunking himself with water from the well, eating a repast, and perhaps retiring to bed with his wife until the afternoon arrived, when it would once again be time to work.

Lifting his head, he gazed with satisfaction about the courtyard—the neat stables with horses in every stall, beyond the grounds that held vegetable beds that fed his family and the other families of their small keep, the cottages that stretched away, and the manor house where he lived. All this was his, thanks to the Queen Mother, who had been determined to reward him for his services to her. Eleanor had hounded King Richard until he had bestowed lands and a title upon Sir Guy of Gisbourne, now a Baron.

After two years in the Holy Land, word had reached Guy of his bequest, and he and his small family had returned to England to take up residence. Parting had been sorrowful, for all had grown fond of Ashraf and his family. But the wise old man had held Guy’s hand at their departure and after several moments of silence, had proclaimed, “We will meet again, Gisbourne. It has been decreed.”

His son had cried to be parted from the man he considered a grandfather and his Uncle Yousef, and had held his father in resentment for many months afterwards.

Guy smiled in remembrance. From their first acquaintance, Ash had been quite wary of his father; he did not like him to sleep in his mother’s bed and would not go to him when Guy lifted his arms to take him from Marian. When they had returned to England four years ago, Guy despaired of ever being close to his offspring. Marian had preached patience, stating calmly, “He will come to you when he is ready,” whenever her husband’s brow would darken from his son’s petulant rejections.

Soon enough, Marian was proven right—as she was about mostly everything, Guy thought wryly. Given time and his rising curiosity, Ash had begun to stealthily follow his father, hiding from sight but steadily watching his every move. Guy would look up from the stall where he worked removing stones from horses’ hooves or cleaning stalls to see a small, piquant face with huge dark eyes observing him. The moment he perceived that his father has espied him, Ash would dash away, to return moments later. This pattern was repeated numerous times until the day Ash came into the stall and began to ask questions about what Guy did.