Chapter VI

The Sheriff was seated at the center of the long table, while the places to his right and left remained vacant. The sullen siblings had yet to arrive. He finished another goblet of wine, allowing the servant to refill the cup. Not one to drown his woes in drink, he feared the Prince's impending visitation might inspire him to embrace the habit. The message had contained the usual vaguely threatening discourse which had been John's mode of communication for the last few months. While not specifying exactly why he was due to arrive within a fortnight, it mentioned "securing loyalty" and admonished him to "triple the guard" of the treasury.

There were few people more committed to getting the Prince on the throne than himself, but given the state of things between them, John was not likely to be buying his loyalty. Quite the opposite, it seemed the Sheriff had to pay for the privilege. It struck him as a desperate move trying to garner support from the nobility by such an uninspired method as bribery. He would have to wait and see what politically embarrassing plan he had in mind. All he knew was the royal visit could not come at a worse time, monetarily speaking. It would doubtless bring some revenue to Nottingham, but not enough to make up for the expense of hosting the royal pain in the arse.

The great hall was quiet except for the pop of boiling sap in the logs on the hearth. The place never echoed with song or music. It was not in his nature to celebrate the tedium of life. That would have to change during the Prince's visit. He had much to procure and arrange for; minstrels and players, jugglers and jesters. The best the shire could spare would need to be rounded up quickly. John would expect entertainment, and if he did not find it pleasing, he might amuse himself at the Sheriff's expense. The ordeal would hardly improve if Gisborne was busy whispering snide comments in the Prince's ear.

Steepling his fingers, he contemplated the empty space to his right. He was still faced with the old dilemma—get rid of Gisborne, or try to salvage the situation. He could replace Guy with Isabella, and use her to gather information, in return for continued freedom from her past. But even more so, he wanted them both. They were suited to very different applications, and what he could not accomplish with one, he might manage with the other.

Part of him knew it was irrational, but he needed Guy more than ever. He was the only one reckless enough to help in his upcoming schemes. Vaisey had ideas about how to turn his misfortune around, but he could not trust just anyone with his radical plans. He often found it necessary to keep allies—such as the Prince—in the dark, until knowing how best to proceed, but people had a habit of assuming treachery. Gisborne had never been one to shy away from a dangerous proposal, nor was he prone to gossip, which—it was amusing to discover—might be one of his most valuable traits. But that would be of use only if Vaisey could again secure his loyalty. Despite what had happened between them, he believed he could achieve that result.

The Sheriff had always possessed a subtle type of power over Guy, which was far more self-sustaining than threats. It had not taken long to figure out what kept him in line when others would have double-crossed him, or fled. In addition to the obvious craving for wealth and status, Gisborne desired approval. Vaisey suspected it was due to losing his father at a young age. Although why that was such a hardship for him, he found it hard to understand. The Sheriff had been only too glad to see the end of his own paterfamilias, finding it necessary to nudge him onto the eternal path, since the old bugger did not want to relinquish his hold on the family title in a reasonable time-frame. But some people were more sentimental.

While he was nothing like Guy's father, he supposed all the young man really needed was someone in authority with a passing interest in his well-being. It was the sort of thing Guy would never consciously consider—if he did, the spell might be broken—but it always worked in Vaisey's favor. It was the Sheriff's most valuable weapon against him, and had so far protected him from Gisborne's wrath.

Vaisey's task would be to convince him Prince John was not a suitable substitute for that need. Ironically, it was also the truth. The Prince's latest trend was to bestow favor on lesser nobles, raising them above what would normally be acquirable at their rank. But John's favor was fickle at best, and he had a habit of doing away with his men of the moment when they lost their lustre. Despite the flashy appeal of being drawn closer to the royal circle, no one of Gisborne's temperament would last long within it.

It was easy to imagine how Gisborne had fallen for John's golden grace. The Prince was not an impressive leader the way his father had been, but he had the ability to appear regal, when he wasn't being a petty and irascible brat. That fact that John chose to be uncharacteristically merciful toward Guy probably helped, but it was also true the Prince's words could wrap themselves around one's mind, like vines. John occasionally tried to do it to him, but Vaisey was not susceptible. He had thrown in his lot with the younger son of old king Henry because it would ultimately benefit himself.

The Sheriff's goals had been set high from the start. Few would suspect a sheriff would have his eye on the position of Lord Chancellor, but that was exactly what he had in mind. It could never happen under King Richard's reign. But with John on the throne, there was a chance. And even if good King John was not moved by gratitude to promote his valuable servant to that lofty rank, he might be motivated by blackmail. The Sheriff had already amassed plenty of fodder to feed that fire.

His eyes strayed to the fireplace. A chess board was silhouetted in front of it. He intended to play against Isabella tonight, or would, if she and Guy did not kill each other before dinner was over. Although he had become used to playing with the lives of real kings, chess was still a game he enjoyed. Unfortunately, the lack of intelligent opponents made it a rare event, even when he had time to devote to it. Robin Hood might have made a good player, but there would be no way to get him to take it seriously, other than threatening the lives of his friends. It was a shame, but they had moved beyond the point of such pleasant interactions.

He had once played against Prince John early in his tenure as Sheriff. He could have won, but Vaisey had more sense than to beat the ill-tempered Prince. He held on long enough to prove he was someone to whom good strategies were second nature, but when he saw the warning signs of pursed lips and narrowing eyes, he made a few calculated mistakes, congratulating His Highness on his superior skill. John likely knew he threw the game, but he was hardly chided for it. It was part of the understanding that allowed them to maintain a functional relationship.

A messenger appeared at the doorway, interrupting his thoughts. He had sent the boy to ensure a dinner invitation reached Isabella, but the lad returned bearing the news that, though deeply regretful, the lady could not attend due to a sudden malady. It had been a stress-filled day for her, but Vaisey was doubtful about the veracity of that excuse. He would give her a day to acclimate. Perhaps she did not want to talk to her brother. He could not fault her for that, but if she proved treacherous, he would make her wish she had stayed with the squire.

Gisborne arrived just as the messenger departed. Looking around, he asked bluntly, "Where's Isabella?"

"Why, I don't know," Vaisey replied truthfully. "I took her to the dungeon, and made her cry. Other than that, we were having a delightful time!"

Guy looked horrified. "You better not have done anything to my sister," he threatened.

"Why?" Vaisey barked. "Because you suddenly care what happens to her? What do you think her sweet husband has been doing all these years?"

A sliver of guilt worked its way into Gisborne's self-righteous glare, but he remained on edge.

Grabbing a bunch of grapes, Vaisey popped one into his mouth. "Do not worry so. I was only demonstrating how we deal with injustice. Being your sister I thought she would enjoy watching others suffer, but it seems I just made her lose her appetite." He held one of the dark red grapes up to the light of the fire, squeezing it lightly. "But, she is tougher than she looks. I think she has potential, with a little encouragement..."

Reassured his sister was not hanging in chains somewhere, Guy dismissed the idea, "That's the last thing she needs. Isabella is a dreamer. She always lacked a sense of practicality."

"Really? What do you think she dreams of now? A life without abuse, perhaps," Vaisey said sarcastically, tossing the slightly molested grape into the fire. "Ridiculous of a woman to expect that!"

Gisborne bristled at his uncharacteristic concern, "Since when do you care about women?"

"I don't. But I am curious why you appear to dislike her so."

Brows furrowing, Guy turned his head away sharply. "It is not a matter of what I think of her, but how she thinks of me. She will always be set to hate me. I cannot change what I did."

"And so, you cannot risk offering her your love," the Sheriff said buoyantly, as if he had worked out a difficult equation. "You do not want to let yourself be hurt."

Gisborne appeared ready to say something defensive, but stopped. Instead he asked evenly, "Are you going to do this all night?"

"Do what?" Vaisey inquired innocently.

"Convince yourself you know everything about me."

"Probably. Unless you can prove me wrong."

"I don't need to prove anything to you," Guy said peevishly.

Vaisey raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. So far, this was not going well. He found it difficult to leave off pestering him, but it hardly furthered his agenda. He would need to curb his tongue somewhat if he was to bring him back around.

A servant had been hovering near Gisborne's side, ready to offer wine, or duck a blow, whichever was necessary. Noticing him, Guy took the wine. He downed the draught within seconds, and the servant refilled the cup. The tension somewhat abated, the Sheriff beckoned for him to take his place at the table.

Dinner was a quiet affair, with neither inclined to make small talk. In spite of his annoyance, Gisborne did not seem to mind the fare. He had never been adverse to partaking of the castle's finest resources, Vaisey recalled wryly, irrespective of whether he saw eye to eye with its master. The Sheriff paused to watch him devouring a roast pheasant like a half-starved pauper. Guy finally noticed Vaisey watching him.

"What?" Gisborne looked at him challengingly, like a hawk mantling its kill.

"Did they not feed you at the royal court?" Vaisey asked bemused.

"The Prince's taste is more...extravagant than mine," he explained. "Everything was needlessly embellished."

"Indeed. You can imagine my consternation when I learned he was coming here. Now I will have to play host to all of his extravagant tastes!" Vaisey winced as Guy's knife scraped sharply across a pewter plate.

"He's coming here?" he asked in astonishment.

The Sheriff stifled a laugh. He loved how the man did not even try to hide ignorance of the situation. Some things never changed.

"You didn't know?" Vaisey feigned surprise. "You must merit little trust for him to leave you so far out of the loop. Yes, he will be here within a fortnight. You may have to pay the piper earlier than you thought."

Gisborne suddenly appeared distracted. The Sheriff decided now was as good a time as any to plant the seeds of discontent.

"Sorry to spoil your dinner. I seem to be making a habit of that." Vaisey rose from the table and

patted Guy's shoulder in as good-natured a manner as he was capable. "But I have something that might take your mind off it. I was going to play against your sister, but I suppose she has left you to take her place," he said, indicating the table festooned with small ivory carvings of red and white. The Sheriff took a seat at the chess board. "Come, let's play a game."

Preoccupied with other thoughts, Gisborne met his eye briefly. "I'd rather not."

The Sheriff had a hunch he would not be thrilled with the idea, but he would find the alternative even less appealing.

"Humor me, Gisborne, or you will be out of Locksley for good. You can crawl back to the Prince now, or go sleep in the forest with Hood." Laughing at the thought, he added, "Now there's a picture. I'm sure you two would have plenty to talk about."

Guy glared at him as he did when intimidating peasants. Vaisey was underwhelmed.

"Sorry, that only works with feeble-minded fools."

"Your point being?" Guy asked impertinently.

"Very good!" the Sheriff exclaimed. "I see you have sharpened that elusive wit of yours. Let us see if you can put it to some use! Grab a seat and get comfy, because I have a feeling this is going to be a long game."

After their earlier incident, Gisborne must have known Vaisey was not bluffing about evicting him. Reluctantly, he took up his place across from the Sheriff, looking as comfortable as a wolf in a trap.

"As my guest, you may have the first move," Vaisey gestured magnanimously.

With a distinct lack of enthusiasm, Guy freed one of his white knights from behind the wall of pawns. Vaisey followed by moving a pawn out before his rook. The Sheriff typically ignored his opponent's moves until several turns had gone by, choosing to set up his pieces in the most advantageous formation for attack. In response, Guy engaged in an irritatingly taunting style of play, attempting to draw the Sheriff into pursuit before he was ready. He would dance his knights along the edge of danger, seemingly not caring that Vaisey would soon establish a superior defense.

"You need to consider your strategies, if you are going to survive." Vaisey's tone was conversational. He could have been referring to the game, but he wasn't. He had not truly intended this activity to take Guy's mind off his troubles, but rather to focus it on them, using whatever anxiety it created to his advantage. "John rarely gives second chances."

Gisborne did not respond to the prompt. The Sheriff assumed he had yet to come up with a plan for salvation. Instead, he moved his knight to take one of Vaisey's pawns. The Sheriff advanced his bishop two spaces, capturing the knight, at no risk to himself. He shook his head, disappointed.

"You, my friend, are doomed. Unless..." the last word was dragged out, the two syllables elongated beyond reason. Vaisey waited for what seemed an overly long time for him to take the bait, but Guy only moved a piece across the board, ignoring him.

Resting his elbows on the table, the Sheriff laced his hands together and peered over them thoughtfully, effectively halting time in the great hall until Guy chose to pay him mind again.

Gisborne yawned, adjusting a tie on the sleeve of his tunic, but after a minute of silence, his eyes shifted up to check on his opponent's progress. He was met by the Sheriff's expectant stare. Swearing under his breath, Guy huffed in defeat, "Unless what?"

Looking down at the board, Vaisey's finger touched the peak of a carved bishop. "You could become my man again," he said, seemingly disinterested in whether or not the offer was accepted.

Guy laughed heartily, and more genuinely than Vaisey had heard in years. It was not the response he was looking for.

"You've made it abundantly clear you would rather I be dead. Why would I bother to do that?"

"Don't think I make the offer out of charity," Vaisey said sharply. His voice softened as he tried to be more persuasive. "The fact is, it would benefit me to have someone close to the Prince, keeping me informed of his plans."

"You want me to spy on the Prince for you?" The mirth had not entirely faded from Gisborne's voice. "You would have me add treason to my list of sins?"

"Do not be so dramatic, it isn't treason," he said tersely. "I'm on John's side as much as anyone, but it seems he's forgotten he has far less chance of succeeding to the throne without my help. If you are working against me—and your every breath betrays that you are—then you are not doing him any favors. And ultimately, Gisborne, you will not get what you want without me."

"What great leap of illogic allows you to conclude that?" Guy asked.

The Sheriff answered him with a question of his own. "Do you expect to be made a baron, or maybe even an earl? You forget the Prince has enough trouble with landholding upstarts, he is not going to be creating more anytime soon. He invites people like yourself into his court just so he can shun his barons. The Prince loves young pups to do the work of old hounds, since they are malleable and expendable. But let me assure you, people like you mean nothing to him. He will take your loyalty as his due, rewarding you with a benevolent smile from time to time, but the moment you fall from grace—which surely you already have—that smile will be eclipsed by fury. I've known the man for years, long enough to work out his patterns. He's wily enough, but also merciless, egotistical, and unstable."

"Reminds me of someone I used to work for," Guy grumbled. "Yet you still want to make him king," he added derisively.

"Yes," Vaisey said without hesitation, "because as long as he is given due obeisance, he is satisfied and will defer to the wisdom of his advisers, of which I plan to be foremost. As monarchs go, John's needs are shallow, and can be satiated with lies. He feeds off the false affection of his nobles. He may even recognize the untruth of it all, but as long as everyone performs their part well, the play can continue. But I know you will not be satisfied being an actor in his court. He will never win your respect, and you will slip up, making your contempt known. I'm guessing your lack of deceit was a novelty to the Prince. A noble with the heart of a soldier who states whatever he is thinking. But if you believe that is what John really wants, you are mistaken," he said, moving his bishop to threaten Guy's rook.

When a counter move did not come, he looked up. Guy's sullen stare was more than half closed. The Sheriff frowned.

"You better not be falling asleep."

Guy opened his eyes, reluctantly focusing on him. "I'm not. I was simply hoping time would pass faster in darkness."

"It won't," Vaisey assured him. The guard, Warin, could have vouched for that. He wondered if the man had expired yet. Something to look forward to checking tomorrow. He returned his attention to the subject.

"I let you get away with speaking your mind, since I valued the occasional good idea you might have, but John is nothing like that. The Prince does not speak as plainly as I do."

Advancing a pawn to guard his jeopardized rook, Guy scoffed, "You're the quintessence of honesty," his irritating smile returning.

"I was honest with you, though you obviously did not appreciate it. Think about it," Vaisey caught his skeptical gaze, "I had no reason to lie to you, being of the opinion you were strong enough to accept the truth. I now realize my error, but out of habit, I'm still giving you the benefit of my wisdom."

That bloody smirk had faded slightly, but he could not tell if Guy believed what he had just said. Of course he had lied to him now and again, but on average, he had been far more honest than not.

"When John wearies of you, you will disappear, without ever having achieved a higher rank. Mark my words, Gisborne, you will reap no benefit, even if you lay your life at his feet."

So far, the same might have been said about his own allegiance to the Prince. Materially, Vaisey had gained nothing he did not already have upon beginning his tenure as sheriff. He had actually paid a small fortune for the job. But power, and the potential for significantly more power—once John was king—was enough to maintain him. He had been ruling like a tyrant in his own little realm, but he wanted more, indeed had to want more if he were going to remain in control. If it were not for his wildly ambitious plans, the Prince would not renew his appointment, to put it mildly.

Gisborne's deep voice pushed aside his reflection. "How has serving you been any different?" he seized on the question, apparently exposing a flaw in Vaisey's argument. "What have I ever gained by helping you?"

"A fair question, though I would expect you should know the answer by now. What you get from me depends entirely on me getting what I covet. I possess the power of suggestion over the Prince. When we are victorious over Richard, I will have the new king's ear like no one else. As far as I am concerned, that is its own reward, but I will see that you are given your due."

"I'm sure you will," Guy said, almost inaudibly.

The Sheriff had to admit, it was all a little too conceptual to make a convincing argument to deaf ears. "The alternative is," Vaisey said with growing impatience, "I use my suggestive powers now, and send him a list of creative ways to kill you."

"How considerate," Gisborne replied sarcastically.

Vaisey realized he'd been delaying his next move. He positioned a knight to threaten Guy's bishop, aware that put it in danger of being taken by his opponent's queen.

"Leaving your knight to be captured? You never change," Guy said, moving the queen to topple the Sheriff's knight.

Vaisey assumed the metaphor was supposed to make him feel guilty. Was he still bitter about being given over to the Prince's guard as a sacrifice? Why even have friends if you could not expect them to die in your place?

"And you are still gullible as ever. Always distracted by the obvious, but never looking at the endgame." The Sheriff slid a rook from across the board to the spot vacated by the queen. It put the white king in jeopardy. "Check." In a few more moves, Gisborne would be finished.

"So, you say I am already as good as defeated. How do I avoid that?" It was Guy's turn to appear to be referring to the game. "Right now, I doubt a good word from you will help."

To anyone else, the remark might have sounded purely belligerent, but Vaisey could discern the genuine need behind the question. It was a step in the right direction.

"That is why I said you need to work on your plan now. You will have to face him yourself, but for pity's sake do not be honest with him. The best you can hope to do is appeal to his vanity. Convince the man he's a god incarnate, and he might let you live."

"How should I do that?" Gisborne looked questioningly at him, clueless as an ox contemplating the butcher's blade.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. "Must I breathe for you too? Be creative! The man's so drunk on his own ego it should not be difficult. You need only maintain the charade until his ruffled feathers have been smoothed, and I have gotten things back on track. Then I will request you return to my service. Surely he will be bored with you by then, and won't begrudge me."

Gisborne did not look satisfied with that advice, but he made no further comment. As an afterthought, he moved his doomed king one last time, choosing the least advantageous placement, perhaps wanting the end to come quickly.

"Checkmate," Vaisey said quietly, moving the red queen to pin down the king. Never a challenge, but the Sheriff had decided long ago a victory without a fight was still a victory.

The fire had burned down to embers. He feared his own wits would need refreshing before tangling with Guy's stubborn resolve again. "Do not procrastinate on a decision. My offer will not remain open for long."

Guy had a faraway look, and he wondered if he wasn't falling asleep again.

"Well, don't let me keep you up...any longer," said Vaisey.

Gisborne perked up at the dismissal. Wordlessly, he pushed back the chair, making his way to the door.

"Gisborne?" the Sheriff called.

He halted, slowly pivoting around.

"No goodnight kiss?" Vaisey asked with mock hope.

Guy's response reminded him of a cat tasting something bitter.

"No? You really should practice hiding your contempt," the Sheriff chided. "Prince John won't always take no for an answer."

Turning sharply, Guy left the hall.

Vaisey chuckled. That had not gone all that badly. At least they had not drawn steel on each other. He knew Gisborne would deliberate on his offer, and upon concluding he had no better options, he would accept it.

Vaisey sent a messenger to rouse the sergeant, not caring if the man was already abed. They needed to start making arrangements for the Prince's arrival now.

Stretching, the Sheriff yawned widely. Whoever said there was no rest for the wicked was a fool. He was planning to sleep late tomorrow.

~ Fin ~