The Tempest (19 page)

“Remove the arrow. It can be used again for other purposes.”

One of the soldiers reached down and yanked the arrow from Guy’s flesh, causing him to cry out in agony. Cassia cried out as well, saying Guy’s name and cursing the guard who’d hurt him.

“Vicious whoreson!” she spat…and then her captor slapped her hard across the face to silence her. She hung her head, stunned by the blow.

Guy saw through a haze of red. “Bastard scum! I will rip your heart out for that!” The guard only sneered. And Guy made a silent vow to himself.

When I am free, that coward will be the first to die.

Briwere rolled his eyes in disgust. “Shut up, Gisborne!” He went to the man holding Cassia…and struck him across the face. “Do not damage her, piss wit! I do not want her desensitized. When she faces justice, I want her to feel every moment of it. Now get her on a horse and get moving.” He turned to another soldier. “You, fetch Sir Guy’s horse and get him on it. I won’t waste time dragging him behind.”

As he turned, there was a sound of pain from one of the men…and looking back, Briwere saw Cassia’s guard falling to his knees, clutching himself between the legs, while the other men laughed. It took two more men, one to hold her and another to bind her ankles, before she was fully restrained. The Sheriff turned to Guy with an evil smirk on his face.

“You have always taken a fancy to the feisty ones, haven’t you? Too bad you will not be rutting between her legs anymore. Sorry to spoil your fun.”

Guy watched helplessly as Cassia was shoved forward and then hefted up on the saddle of a guard. She lifted her chin defiantly, sitting with her back straight, refusing to cower in the face of fear. She was so courageous, even now. For a moment, he thought of begging for them to be imprisoned together, so they could at least be of comfort to one another. But knowing that Briwere would only mock such a foolish request, Guy was silent, refusing to give the Sheriff any kind of satisfaction on that score.

His leg screaming with pain from his wound, his hands tied, he could not give much fight as he was hoisted onto his horse. It was little consolation that he was being allowed to ride, instead of being forced to walk behind like so many prisoners.

Like so many prisoners
, he thought.
Just like all the ones I’ve sent to their deaths.

He almost laughed at the irony of it. The fearsome Guy of Gisborne, once a servant of the Sheriff’s cruel form of justice, would now be one of the very captives he’d once loathed and spat at. Somehow, he was sure he deserved this punishment.

But not Cassia. All she’d ever done was act for the good of others. She was suffering because of him…for loving him. He was a tainted man. In loving him she’d been cursed, bringing disgrace and punishment upon herself. At that moment he would have gladly taken torture, if only it meant her freedom. As they approached the castle, he looked up at the familiar stone walls and battlements…and a knot fear began to form in his stomach. What would become of her now that they were within the walls of Nottingham? So many lives had been destroyed with this place.

His question was answered almost before he’d finished thinking of it.

“Lock her in a tower room,” Briwere instructed. “Make sure she has nothing to kill herself with. That will take all the fun out of it when she meets her fate.”

“What fate?” Guy demanded. “What will you do with her?” He was well aware of the many forms of death that Briwere enjoyed watching. Few of them were quick, such as a beheading. The sick bastard liked slow, painful deaths…and Guy feared what he had in mind for Cassia. But to his concern, Briwere only sneered.

“It shall be a surprise, Gisborne. Everyone loves surprises, do they not?”

One of Guy’s captor’s questioned Briwere.

“Shall we throw him in the dungeon, my lord?”

Briwere brought a finger to his lips, thinking on it. “No. I’m feeling rather generous today. Lock him in a tower room as well. But not close to the girl, mind you, where they can whisper little love messages to each other. I am not feeling
that
generous.”

The guard nodded, leading Guy away with the help of another soldier.

His leg wound kept him from walking well. Several times he was roughly dragged back to his feet when the pain made him unsteady.

Soon a door was opened, and he was unceremoniously shoved inside. He fell against the wall and sank to the cold floor. The room was small…just enough room to lie down, though there was not a bed nor even a pallet to rest on. Above his head were several arrow slits, but no window. There was just enough light to see, but what was there to look at?

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the stone wall, trying not to think about his wound or even his own possible death. All he thought about was Cassia. And he prayed to God to spare her from a terrible fate.

*****

A scream ripped from his lungs as a hot iron was touched to his wounded leg. He was thrown down to the floor, his trousers around his feet, and the door was locked behind him. Crawling forward only a small space, he fell in exhaustion and agony, uncaring about his state of humiliation. All he could think of was the blinding pain, and it soon became too much. He fell into blackness, and lay still as death until nearly dawn.

When he woke, his head throbbed violently, and his leg wound ached nearly as much. Somehow he managed to pull his trousers back up, but he suddenly wondered what the point was of trying to maintain modesty. It wasn’t as if there was anyone to see or care what state he was in.

For four days and nights he’d been locked in his cell, sleeping on the hard floor, and occasionally relieving himself in the chamber pot that was the sole object in the room. The smell in the room was becoming unbearable, made worse by the heat of the summer day. It was enough to make him wretch, and the only relief he found from it was by hiding his head in a corner, closing his eyes and trying to breathe shallow breaths.

His only visitor…other than the “Physician” that had been sent…was a servant girl who brought him stale bread and a flagon of water twice a day, which she slid to him through a small opening in the bottom of the door. He knew it was a young woman from her slight footsteps and the sound of hevoice, which she limited to very few words. When she first came to him he tried to make her stay, hoping he might question her, but she dropped the rations and scurried away, leaving him shouting in frustration. Each time she came again he demanded answers, only to be left in silence.

His one hope was that she would tell him something of Cassia, for he was nearly going mad with worry over her. Briwere had commanded his men that she wasn’t to be harmed…but Guy knew very well that the Sheriff’s orders weren’t always followed as they should have been. He tried not to think of it, but there were moments when he agonized at the idea of her being beaten or violated. The thought it nearly brought him to tears.

And what of her keeping? Was she trapped in a cell like this, suffering from the isolation? Or was she dead already? What if the Sheriff had already executed her, and was keeping the information from him just to torture his mind? He thought of Briwere’s plan for Marian…how he had purposely moved up her execution. If he chose to do the same to Cassia…

If she was dead…Oh, God, he didn’t know how he would endure. He buried his head in his hands, tormented by his dark thoughts.

A shuffling of footsteps outside his door made him turn his head. He rushed to the door, waiting for the moment the rations would be pushed through…and in a swift move he grabbed the girl’s wrist, clenching it tight. He heard her shriek, and he tried to shout over her.

“I just want to speak to you! Do not run away! I need to know about the girl who was taken prisoner with me!”

He felt a boot smash down on his hand, then a pounding on the door…and a male voice shouting at him.

“Captive filth have no right to speak to anyone! Get back from the door and shut your mouth!”

The boot lifted and he yanked his hand back inside…only to smash it against the door in frustration. He bellowed in rage, in pain and despair. But was answered only with silence.

*****

The light was slowly fading away in his cell. Soon he would be in total darkness, but he ceased to care. At least he had his memory to keep him from going mad, and turning to the wall, he lost himself in thoughts of Cassia. Even in this living hell, she was his one light of hope. He even managed to smile as he recalled the first time he’d seen her be the spirited little thing she was. He could almost feel the pressing of ice against his foot…of the sharp, stabbing pain that had followed…and he could hear himself shouting at her.

“God’s teeth, you little witch! That hurts!”
“It must hurt if it is to heal! You should be grateful to have ice at hand!”

That look in her dark eyes…the flash of fury, as if he were a naughty child she was about to strike across the face for talking back. It made his heart swell with pride and passion for her, the lovely little firebrand that she was. Thinking back on it, he knew he shold have been punished for biting the hand that fed him. He’d been such an ungrateful, arrogant swine in those days. But then he remembered how she’d gotten even with him in her own little way. He recalled how he’d lowered his head, expecting a gentle flow of water from a gourd…only to feel the impact of an entire bucket load of water slamming the back of his skull, leaving him sputtering like a fool and shouting childishly while she ran from the room. Then, there was the final humiliation…having that old witch sprung on him without warning. Strange, but in a way, that moment had marked a great turning point in his life. After that debacle, he’d gone after revenge against his little tormentor, intent on conquering her once and for all. But with one kiss, it was he who had been conquered…and in those days, he could never have imagined how sweet a surrender it would turn out to be.

A noise came from the dimness. The sound of his nightly visit from the servant girl. And with her came a low series of whispers…unexpected, but oh so welcome. He strained desperately to hear, for she was speaking so softly it was barely audible.

“The lady fares well enough. I’ve seen that she has more water and food. And she sends you her affection.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. He wanted to ask more…but the footsteps scurried away, and he knew they would not return until the morning. He leaned back against the wall, sliding down until his face touched the cold stones of the floor.

Thank God, Thank God
, he muttered. She was alive, and considering the circumstances, she was unharmed. And even now, she thought of him…cared for him, loved him. It would be enough to see him through another night, and hopefully, through another day.

*****

A cold blast of water startled him awake. He shook his head, and through bleary eyes, he could see Briwere standing before him. Two guards were with him, and before Guy could react, they hauled him to his feet and bound his hands. The Sheriff stepped forward, a little sneer curling his lip.

“Good God, man, you stink.” He took a small step back, clearing his throat. Then he spoke, his tone almost business-like in its manner. “Well, Gisborne, I imagine by now that you’ve been racking what little brains you have, wondering how you came to be in these plush accommodations. It is quite simple, really. You see, spies are a delightful source of information, particularly young ones. They are so eager to please, you see, and your stable boy was a wealth of information. He informed one of my loyal pages that he saw a strange woman, supposedly a captive of yours, at Chenivier But then, she suddenly vanished one night. That explained the rumor that you had supposedly murdered another woman. I expect you thought that would be the end of your little rouse.”

His voice rose…growing sharp and loud.

“WRONG!” he shouted. “The boy saw you come and go from Chenivier several times, behaving in a very strange way, as if you were in a great hurry. Then, just a few days ago, he spied you in town again, and this time he followed you to your little hiding place. One thing led to another, and now, here wandine.”

Guy broke in sharply, demanding. “What have you done with her?”

Briwere just smiled, snickering. “Oh, nothing yet, dear boy. Do not worry. You shall see her again. In fact, I have arranged a special reunion of sorts, just for the two of you.” He gave a snap of his fingers to the guards. “Bring him.”

They dragged him away, along the corridor and down the steps. Soon they came to the courtyard, and Guy felt his stomach turn as he was forced to an observation platform…the same platform where he’d watched so many people put to death. He looked out across the way to where a hooded body was tied to a cross, set up in the middle of the square. Standing beside the prisoner was a masked man, holding a flaming torch in one hand…and with a gesture from the Sheriff, he yanked the hood away from the captive.
A furious wail tore from Guy’s throat.

“NO!” He felt his heart tear in two at the sight of her, bound with rope to the cross. Her hair had been hacked off. He could see her chest rising and falling fast in terror, knowing that her last moments of life were upon her. Briwere chuckled, rubbing his hands together.

“Ah, there she is. Your little lover. This is your chance to say farewell, Gisborne. How fortunate you have the opportunity that so many do not…to see the one you love at the very moment they pass on.”

Guy fought wildly against his bonds.

“You cannot do this! Put me in her place and let her go!”

His voice broke in mad despair. Desperate to reach her before it was too late, he cried out for her like a man possessed. But his words went unheeded.

“Too late, Gisborne. My mind is made up.”
They dragged him off as he screamed her name…his last sight of her an agonized view of the straw being put to flame around her feet.

“Cassia! No, no! Not her! Let her go and kill me instead!”

In a state of frenzied madness he cried out, fighting with his captors who hardly managed to hold him…until a third guard intervened, striking him on the head with the butt of a dagger. He slumped in a daze, and they dragged him down a long passageway towards the dungeons, with the Sheriff following not far behind. Even in his daze, he muttered Cassia’s name again and again. Briwere snorted in disgust.