Chapter VI

Sequestered at the back of the tavern, Guy sat with his arms on the table, chin propped on an upturned palm. He had been there for hours, but had yet to touch the pint of ale in front of him. His eyes glinted in the firelight as he compulsively scanned the faces of the tavern patrons, searching for any sign of Hood or his men. It was foolish of them, but they did occasionally come here. The serving maid kept looking at him with dismay. His presence was not very good for business, since many of the establishment's best patrons were thieves and scoundrels who would not stay long once they saw him. He knew he should rest, to be ready to deal with whatever the Sheriff had planned tomorrow, but he could not bring himself to go back to the keep yet. He felt he was too close to a resolution. After so long in the dark, he had finally identified his problem. Now all he had to do was fix it.

After thinking it over, he decided Vaisey was not wrong in his estimation. Guy still had a need for power. But the Sheriff was sorely lacking in that commodity right now, despite his assertions that everything would go in their favor. It made all Vaisey's negative traits stand out, whereas before, they were shrouded in a haze of potential greatness. What the Sheriff may not have considered, when he was trying to inspire his lieutenant, was what Guy would become if he regained the same level of ambition that he once had, combined with a now unfettered disrespect for his Lord Sheriff. No doubt, after a very short while, Vaisey would wish for the return of his "misery-addled mess".

As he saw it, he had only three options. He could leave Nottingham, and try to avoid Vaisey's reach, but it would mean laying aside his name, and becoming little better than an outlaw. He knew he would not be happy wandering the country as an outcast. He'd had enough of that in his youth.

Another possibility would be to kill the Sheriff. Then he would never have to worry about the man again. The thought had crossed his mind before, but he never let it linger. But now that things were different between them, he let the idea play out further. He could be swift, never letting Vaisey know what was coming, or he could drag it out, allowing the vile beast to feel the same kind of fear he caused countless others. The thought gave him a sickening thrill. But it was only a thought. He knew in reality he would find it harder to carry out. For all his faults, the man had done more for him than anyone else, and it would take a steeling of resolve to put all of that aside and finish him. And it was also a known fact that, in retaliation for his appointed official's untimely demise, the Prince would lay siege to the castle, and scorch the surrounding villages. Of course, that was assuming the Prince cared anymore. But Guy did not have an overwhelming desire to risk the destruction of an entire shire, especially since the only holding he had a claim to—notwithstanding its disputed status—was part of it. So he dismissed the idea, for the moment.

Lastly, he could stay, continuing on as he had been doing, which did not feel like much of a solution. The difference was that he could not undo his revelation. There was no going back to being Vaisey's docile devotee. If the Sheriff thought he was not behaving appropriately now, he was in for an even more unpleasant surprise. If Vaisey really needed him, he would accept Guy's blunt honesty, or he would have to find a new henchman. Perhaps it would lead to his own death sentence, but it would be a relief to be himself, for however short a time.

The sound of a woman's laughter drew his attention away from his contemplation. The tavern maid was talking to two men who had taken up seats at a table near the door. They had only been there a short while, but were already on their third round of drinks. Their speech had a strange lilting tone to it. He guessed they were from the West, but the accent was not Welsh. Perhaps Irish. The taller one was red-haired, and appeared older, while the other was short, with dark hair, and bright eyes that were too close-set. They were wearing sage-colored tunics over mail hauberks. They were not dressed like nobility, but he thought he caught the shine of silver on their garments, and there was a level of quality in the workmanship, which meant they had means of obtaining wealth. Overall, they had the appearance of mercenaries.

Guy did not like the look of the short one. He had an arrogant air that reminded him far too much of Hood. The man was making advances on the serving girl, and by the look of it, she must have found his speech charming, considering how quickly she fell into his lap. The red-haired man appeared more shrewd, and Guy found he was being watched in return. He met the gaze without wavering. The man inclined his head just slightly, and smiled.

Guy frowned. Congeniality was not something he offered to strangers without cause, and most travelers through Nottingham followed the same custom. Then a thought struck him. Perhaps these were the "guests" Vaisey had mentioned. They appeared no more well-armed than the next man, but he could see the potential for the short one to be rowdy.

The older man said something to the younger one, and he paused in his wooing of the maid to look toward Guy. He whispered something to the girl, and when she answered, he gave her a coin. Laughing, she made her way back to the kitchen. The man grinned, and raised his mug toward Guy, saying loudly enough for him to hear, "Good eve, friend. That lovely lass tells me you are Sir Guy, the Sheriff's man. I am Tiernan MacMurrough, and this here is my brother, Finn." The names meant nothing to Guy. Tiernan pointed to the still untouched mug on the table in front of Guy. "What'll ya be having?"

"Solitude and silence, if you've got it," Guy replied. His chair scraped along the rough wooden floor as he stood to leave. "If not, I'll find it myself, elsewhere." The Sheriff had probably warned them to look out for him, and it appeared they were trying to start off on the right foot. But Guy was not the welcoming committee. They could keep their good will to themselves.

Tiernan laughed, and appeared about to protest, but his brother put a hand on his arm. Finn addressed Guy in a moderated tone, "The hour is indeed late, and we have traveled far today. We look forward to making your acquaintance, at a better time."

Striding past their table on his way to the door, Guy snorted derisively at Tiernan, "If we must."

Tiernan was quick to retort, "It looks like where we come from, English courtesy is not given the credit it deserves. I'd say it is slightly more pleasant than a punch in the face."

There was a hint of laughter in Finn's warning, "Let it be, little brother."

Ignoring the slight, Guy ducked through the low tavern doorway, and stepped into the dark cobbled street of Nottingham town, leaving the brothers to their drinking. After meeting these two, he had even less faith in the Sheriff's plans for their future. He wondered what possible use the Irish could be to the Sheriff. Prince John was not particularly fond of Ireland lately, and it was risky to make some alliance with the Prince's enemies. But he knew he could look forward to Vaisey revealing it all tomorrow, most likely with far too much flourish. The Sheriff delighted in explaining his schemes, and Guy had always been a captive audience, though perhaps not for much longer.

He walked the final steps through the town, until the dark bulk of the castle spread upwards before him. The sentries at the inner gate hailed him. The portcullis opened like the fanged mouth of a demon set to swallow its wayward child, and he entered once again into the devil's domain.

~ Fin ~