Lady Outlaw

Chapter 17

Scarborough Castle, Scarborough, North Riding of Yorkshire

"It's all very well, having an outlaw to hang tomorrow. But why isn't it Robin Hood? I thought I told you I wanted Robin Hood."
Prince John pouted most impressively. He resembled a spoilt, overgrown child, draped across his throne chair with a leg hooked over one arm, his left hand outstretched and holding a jewelled goblet filled with French wine.
Vaisey stifled a sigh and plastered a smile across his face. He was desperate to claw his way back into Prince John's good books, even if it meant putting up with his incessant whining. The prince was proving harder to win over than he had expected, although his complaining was not reserved for Vaisey only. So far, he had grumbled to Devereux about his bed sheets and mattress, sniped at Gisborne's quiet, reticent mood, and lamented that nobody loved him as much as they did his brother, Richard. This was a recurring theme.
It was exhausting, having to constantly massage such a fragile, petulant ego, but it had to be done. Vaisey had his eye firmly on the end game.
"We will have Hood soon, my liege," he assured the prince, soothingly. "He will no doubt be here tomorrow in an attempt to rescue his friend."
Prince John stroked his beard, thoughtfully, and regarded Vaisey with emotion-filled eyes. "Do you promise me, Vaisey? I would not like to be let down by you again."
Vaisey and Gisborne exchanged glances, but, before Vaisey could answer, Devereux cleared his throat.
"My liege, we have nearly replaced the money lost to this Robin Hood in the additional taxes I have collected from the towns and villages of this shire. You need not worry."
Prince John sat up straight, swinging his leg over the arm of his chair and placing it on the floor. "That is true, Devereux. Soon, we can go ahead with the original plan and have the black knights assassinate Longchamp, and then my dear brother, Richard." He stood and flung his arms out, splashing red wine onto the floor. "And you, my loyal subjects, will be rewarded."
He looked at them all, benevolently, and Vaisey and Devereux attempted to out-cheer each other, heartily. Used to such forced bonhomie, Dulcina ignored them and sat on her chair with a bored expression on her face, twirling a ring around her little finger.
"Gisborne," Prince John said, imperiously. "You must soon join the black knights and carry out our plans. Are you ready?"
Gisborne choked on a mouthful of wine and spent a moment coughing. Vaisey thumped him on the back, grinning at the prince.
"Of course he is ready, my liege. We were merely unprepared and unaware of Devereux's success in raising the money."
Vaisey sent an approving smile in his uncle's direction, although his eyes were cold. Devereux inclined his head, graciously, yet his smile of reciprocation was smug.
"We have been aware for some time of your troubles in Nottingham, with this Hood," the Sheriff of Yorkshire said. "But we all have to stick together, do we not, if we are to win this war? Once Prince John has been crowned king, we are home and dry."
"Very true, my dear Devereux. Very true." Prince John eyed Vaisey, speculatively. "And even though you have let me down, Vaisey, I still love you. Do you love me?"
"Of course, my liege. Always," Vaisey assured him, and kissed the proferred ring. "I have pledged my allegiance to you and only you."
"Good," Prince John said, satisfied. "Now let us toast me, as future king of England."
As the three men raised their goblets, Gisborne slipped out of the door into the corridor outside, and was followed closely by Dulcina. She regarded him, coolly, as the door closed behind them.
"So, you will kill the king?"
Gisborne looked back at her, his expression as inscrutable as her own. "It would appear so, my lady. It is expected of me."
Her ice-blue eyes held his own. "It does not worry you that what you plan is treason?"
Lost for words, Gisborne stared at her, and glimpsed something within her gaze that resonated within him. He paused, puzzled. Had he met this woman before? He did not think so, but something about her was familiar.
Struggling to place her as well as choose his words carefully, he was too slow on either count and she raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow before turning and gliding away, almost silently on her cloth slippers.
Gisborne breathed out in relief. Being in this castle and having to keep up the pretence of being his old evil self was exhausting. He no longer agreed with the prince's plan to kill the king, but he was in so deep that he wasn't sure how to extricate himself. He wasn't sure he would be able to without losing his life. Gisborne sighed. He longed for Alice, but she was still away, hopefully at Filey Manor by now. At least Allan's rescue was guaranteed.
Turning, Gisborne made his way towards the dungeons. At least there was one friendly face here in the castle, even if that face was locked away in the depths of the fortress.