The Storyteller

Chapter 3: The Commission

The Sheriff sat with his arms folded atop his desk. He gave her a smile, the same wolf-like smile he had given her a few hours ago in the dungeons. “Comfortable?” he asked her.

Lynna sat back against her chair nodding in fright. “Good. Now, then perhaps you won't mind answering a few of my questions?” he asked her sweetly again.

She shook her head. Her own mind whirling with a few questions of her own, but that was not her place, and she was too scared to voice them now. “You are a weaver in Locksley Village?”

She nodded, “I am also the village storyteller...”

“Storyteller? Well then, tell me a story.”

“Pardon, my lord?” Lynna clutched the sides of the seat of the chair tightly, her fingers scrapping against it as she rubbed them back and forth nervously.

“You heard me,” the Sheriff leaned back in his chair. “Go on and do...whatever it is you do.” He waved for her to proceed.

“I...” Lynna stared, her eyes darted around the room. She had lost her voice and her mouth had gone suddenly dry. All of the stories and songs she had ever learned seemed to have gone from her memory. She sat upon the chair, gulping like a fish floundering in the air.

Her chair was nearly kicked out from under her, “Get on with it,” Guy shouted at her. She squeaked and launched into an old song, the first to come back to her consciousness:

There lived a maiden by the sea

And fair and lonely was she, was she

too a lay a lie a lee

They say her love had gone away

Still she prays he'll come back one day

too a lee a lie a lay

She watches the shore with a careful eye

Does she know her love has died?

Too a lee a lay a lie

The chair came out from under her and Lynna fell to the floor, adding more bruises onto her bruises. She coughed and looked up at Guy of Gisborne. “Enough of that...”

As soon as Lynna had once again righted the chair and herself back upon it she was greeted with polite applause from the Sheriff. She tightened her knees together and went back to gripping the seat's edge. “Well done, m'dear. I especially admired that sudden drop at the end, very well executed.” He laughed at his joke and Lynna flushed red to the roots of her hair.

“It seems I may have some use for you after all, so do try to relax. I will not be hanging you today!” The Sheriff said gleefully.

This only served to further terrifying the woman and it was a wonder she did not faint on the spot. She appeared to look as if she was half in a swoon as it was. “Wh-what use may I provide, my lord?” she asked hesitantly.

“Do you see these walls?” The Sheriff pointed directly behind him and outwards around the chamber.

Lynna craned her head in all directions to observe the walls. She squinted, thinking she must be looking for some minor detail within the bare stone. “What of them, my lord?” she asked finally, when she could not discern why the state of the chamber walls should be of any importance to her.

“They are bare,” the Sheriff answered for her.

Lynna scuffed her feet upon the floor, “They are, my lord,” she agreed stupidly, but what did bare, stone walls have to do with her? She stared at the Sheriff's seemingly amused face and felt yet another chill down her spine. Madness before her and hell beside her. What had she done to deserve such a punishment? She made a silent prayer to God to get her out of this place alive.