The Beekeeper

Chapter 5

September, 1192

He'd forgotten the beauty of an Autumn in England.

He sat upon a log in a clearing, having come there to find solitude – and a place to think, his mind being much occupied. The last several weeks had seen him in a long transit from the sea to the final path homeward to Nottingham. He considered himself fortunate to be one of the few who had survived and not one of the many who had given their lives to King Richard's great quest. A senseless quest, it now seemed – for although safe passage into the holy land had been secured, it had come at a terrible price. Guy could hardly forget the images that had seared themselves into his mind, tormenting him at night – memories of such carnage and suffering that he doubted true recovery was possible. But he was grateful that he was alive, and he said a daily prayer of thanks for it – for in the midst of such darkness, there had been a small light of hope...the possibilities of the future.

Over these last few days, he had been busy refamiliarizing himself with his home and the surrounding village. And then, a messenger had suddenly arrived from Yorkshire – bearing a letter. Guy had read the contents several times already. From his vest, he took out the folded parchment again. And again, he read it...

From Elaina of Leaford to lord Guy of Gisborne, greetings –

I write to you this sixth day of September to announce the pending visit of my daughter, Marian, to your court at Nottingham – the time of which will be, God willing, less than a fortnight. Upon her arrival I request that she find an appropriate table and lodging in keeping with her status. To you we now entrust her care and happiness, and we trust that you will grant her the courtesy and respect befitting a lady of her station. For her, we wish much happiness with a most honorable lord and master, and we are certain you will find her to be suitable as a wife and helpmate.

Yours respectfully,

Lady Elaina

He could hardly believe it. After all this time, he was finally going to meet his intended bride, and in as short a time as a fortnight - perhaps less.

A hundred questions hounded him. What would she look like? What would her demeanor be? He only knew of a vague description that Hadrian had once given him. She was pious, as a lady was meant to be. She was fair-haired, petite, and pale. That was all the information that he had of her. It was hardly enough to form a true picture – to tell him more of the lady who was destined to be his wife. Why could there not be some better form of communication? After all, he had waited long enough for her – as he knew she had waited for him. As that thought crossed his mind, another one came into his head – one that gave him a sudden and sharp feeling in the pit of his stomach.

What if I am unpleasant in her eyes? What if I fail to garner her affections?

The notion of it made him deeply apprehensive – giving life to old insecurities, while establishing new ones.

Walking, he came to the nearby lake – where he knelt down at the edge, intending to take a drink. But he became still as he looked at his own reflection, and he stared at himself. His frown deepened - his soul troubled by what he saw. He was a survivor of the battle of Acre. He was soon to be a Master-at-Arms. Such a position should have commanded respect. And yet, he knew that few in Nottingham thought highly of him. They feared him. And they ridiculed him. The mockery was done behind his back, of course, for they would not dare insult him to his face. But they did it just the same, whispering harsh words about his looks and his mannerisms.

He is as monstrous as his uncle, they said.

Striking at his reflection, he was glad to see it disappear as ripples formed, and cupping his hands together, he scooped up a drink. As he brought the cool water to his lips, he heard the sudden snort of a horse and the jingling of reins. Then, the sound of a voice fell on his ear. A voice he would not soon forget.