Sir Guy of Gisborne's Diary

Entry 25

Two days after the Carter fiasco, it was my birthday. I held a gathering in Locksley Manor. I would have preferred spending the day quietly playing with my presents, but seeing as nobody bought me any presents that would have turned out to be quite a dull day.

The Fool at the party got right up my nose, especially when he made the dead woodpigeon on the meat tray turn into a live dove. I get so frustrated when I don't know how or why a thing happens, which means I spend half of my days feeling frustrated and the other half feeling miserable, very miserable or wretchedly miserable.

From there on in, the day got worse.

A messenger arrived with a message from the king, only he ran away when he realised that Robin was no longer lord of the manor, taking the message with him. The Fool wittered on about something called Lardner's Ring, which I fervently hoped would be some kind of icing-coated crunchy biscuit with a hole in the middle. No biscuits appeared, though in truth I was still waiting for the main course, which was currently sitting on a crossbeam cooing and puffing out its chest.

Then we heard that the messenger had uttered the word Lardner just before he died. I honestly didn't give a fuck who or what Lardner was, more concerned with wondering whether anyone had made me a birthday cake and agonising over what to wish for when I blew out the candles: masses of sex with Marian or masses of leather accessories to go in my man-bag (bit of a tie, that one).

No cake arrived. Instead we found out that Lardner was a pigeon and that if Hood got hold of it he would send it back to the Holy Land with a message for the king (tied around its leg; not the bird actually talking to the king as I'd so foolishly thought) telling of the sheriff's treachery. No guesses for who'd be in the pigeon shit if that happened.

***

We found Hood up in a tree, the box containing Lardner with him. After losing a few archers to the outlaw's deadly aim, the sheriff said he had a plan and was going back to the castle. I promised him that Hood would be dead before he returned; as I said the words, I had my fingers crossed behind my back and was wishing very hard that a lucky horseshoe or a rabbit's foot might fall out of the sky, preferably both.

To my surprise, what did fall out of the sky, or should I say tree, was Marian. I'd been poised to send a flaming arrow into the tree trunk, igniting the pitch I'd doused it with. I quite like burning things - ants, thatched roofs, my sister's clothes, my parents house, etc - and was looking forward to seeing Hood go up in flames, especially as he'd nearly burned me to death in that stupid suit of armour not so long ago. Marian put paid to that.

Then Hood's gang arrived and set fire to the forest. There was smoke everywhere. I was very cross, not only because it made my eyes sting, but also because if anyone was entitled to burn anything this day, it was me. It was my birthday after all. However, right then I knew I had to push my anger aside and get on with rescuing Marian. Hood had been holding her hostage and now she was dangling from a rope, her hands tied, tears running down her face. I was her knight in shining leather.

I started climbing the tree, calling out to her that I was coming, praying that I wouldn't lose my footing and that the sharp branches wouldn't leave scratch marks on my leathers. Neither occurred and I soon had her safely in my arms and then safely back on the ground. Unfortunately, Hood had escaped in the confusion. God knows how. He must have a dozen horseshoes and rabbits' feet on his person, I thought. He probably got presents on his birthday too. And a cake festooned with candles and thick, sickly-sweet icing. And party-ring biscuits. I quickly chastised myself for being so full of self-pity. Marian was wearing normal clothes, not a nun's habit, which meant she must have left Ripley Convent, changed her mind about giving herself to God. Now there was a chance she would give herself to me, especially as I'd just rescued her. Even better, the sheriff's hawk, that he'd gone back to fetch earlier, snatched Lardner out of the sky. With a screech and whirl of flying feathers, the king's bird was no more.

So, not the best of birthdays: no presents, no cake, no meat course because it flew away. But, on the plus side, Marian was back in the castle and there would be no more chasing after pigeons with stupid names.