The Eternal Shadow

Chapter 31

XXXI

"Did he cry?"

Sir Guy of Gisborne did not answer this question addressed to him by the mother of his child because he wanted to forget the lowest act he'd ever committed. Yes, his son had cried as he'd laid him down upon the forest floor but that hadn't stopped him from leaving him there. One might have thought that abandoning his own flesh and blood would've torn at his heartstrings but in reality it hadn't been difficult at all.

His heart had long since turned to stone.

He'd not wanted the child. He'd wanted to catch Robin Hood. To use his child as bait had been a way to kill two birds with one stone. Had he been able to let Vaisey in on the plot, he was sure the sheriff would've approved. Of course, he hadn't let him in on it because Vaisey knowing of his son's existence would've been far worse than leaving the child to the elements.

Better off dead than a life with him... or with me for that matter.

All had gone to plan and for a short time he could congratulate himself on having outwitted the outlaws but as with all the stories he told himself to live the life he did, it was not long before the cold hard reality of what he'd done caught up with him and the voice that he had come to think of as hers would ask him why.

It has been four years Francesca - will you never let me be?

She would not.

And no matter what he did or said, how much he begged, cried, cursed and screamed at her, she never left him.

To be the man Vaisey needed him to be, he had to put his conscience to sleep but despite all efforts to do just that, she had become the part of him that called him out on his wrongdoings, confronted him with home truths about the direction his life had taken, reproached him for his despicable acts, cursed his weakness in following the man whose schemes had very nearly cost him his life.

It was her but it was not.

It was him but it was not.

In this strange way they had become intermingled; what was left of his twisted conscience and his memory of her.

She was a ray of light...

the only light he'd ever known since his parents had left this world – an incredible, wonderful, beautiful light that had managed to cut through the eternal shadow that hung over him...

but then that light was gone...

and the shadow had consumed him anew...

and all he'd been left with was this echo of her, this construct, this creation of his mind, this glimmer of light that was nothing compared to her – the real her...

Their time together had been achingly brief but it had meant so much to him and God in heaven how he wished he could see her again even if it was for just a moment... to have that light shine upon him once more...

He knew he didn't deserve it and dreaded to think what she would make of him now and yet this wish filled him with such painful longing he could hardly bear it.

She was his sweetest misery; a blessing and a curse, he was so glad he'd met her and at the same time wished he never had.

No, she would never leave him be; he never stopped asking her to but knew she never would.

**********

His dreams were a mishmash of all that had been and all that had come to be. Old faces in new places. Old guilt mixed with new.

Francesca was a frequent visitor - something that was so bittersweet it had him yearning with every fibre of his body to dream of her and yet waking up in sobs when he did.

Then there was his family who also made a regular appearance, especially since he'd returned to the Gisborne lands; the remembrance of how they'd been persecuted made for harrowing dreams and brought out the absolute worst in him – his wrath towards the Locksley villagers knowing no bounds - something Vaisey enjoyed witnessing with sadistic glee.

Then there were the dead - by his hand or Vaisey's made no difference, indeed the line was often blurred when it came to who had done what to whichever poor victim and in the end it didn't matter much anyway because just standing by and allowing somebody to die was not much better than doing the deed himself...

which brings us to one dead man in particular who'd been haunting his dreams lately...

Perhaps it was because of the most recent hangings – the sight of Locksley peasants swinging from the gallows bringing back old memories or maybe even just Vaisey's incessant talk of hanging the man who'd saved them that had reminded him of that day all those years ago...

He begged you and you did nothing...

You may find it strange dear reader that one of Guy of Gisborne's biggest regrets was not helping the man who had (accidentally) poisoned him but it was. The parallels between them had always made him uncomfortable – the man had been a poor, helpless wretch when Vaisey had found him – just as he had been - promised the world, little knowing what price he would have to pay...

We never stood a chance did we Willy?

Pawns. That was all they were. Pawns to be bent and broken as desired. Guy had told himself a thousand times that if he hung in there long enough he would someday be more than that but deep down inside he doubted the day would ever come...

and as he had watched Willy die, the cries for help from the condemned man still ringing in his ears, a little voice had told him that this would be the way it would end for him.

Purpose served. Game over.

It was of course not the first time that Vaisey had done this to somebody - what had happened to Willy was nothing Guy hadn't seen before but it was the speed and magnitude of it that had disturbed him this time around.

That and what they did to his name.

That was what got to Guy; they had not just hung the man, they had disgraced his name – Willy would go down in history as the man who'd tried to kill Prince John, even though it wasn't true and his family would have to live with that disgrace through the ages.

And why?

Because he'd been so unlucky as to get involved in a spat between two lords.

Guy wondered on what pretext he would someday be cast aside and what would become of the Gisborne name. That is why despite hating Vaisey for what he'd done, he redoubled his efforts to ensure that it wouldn't happen to him. He would not give his master cause to turn on him and would do whatever it took to rise before he did so. He even went so far as to put himself in the same position as the poor soul he'd let hang; he became an assassin and his mission was not to kill a lord nor a prince, no, far worse than that; his target had been the king.

The stakes had been high: power and freedom or death and disgrace. All he'd ever dreamed of or the stuff of his worst nightmares.

One chance.

He'd been unable to resist.

But as with so much in his life, nothing turned out as he'd expected.

Someone had stood in the way.

Hood.

Next time the blade won't miss it's mark.