DISCLAIMER: The Robin Hood characters used in this story come from the excellent BBC series also called Robin Hood. The characters of Heloise and her brother as well as the earldom of Malmesbury are (or I believe are) fictional and were created by me.
November 1191- Nottingham Castle
Winter had hit the town of Nottingham hard. Strong winds and flourishes of snow sent the residents fleeing for shelter, arms full of supplies so as to withstand the incoming storm. Deserted, the normally bustling streets were still and peaceful. A white blanket was already beginning to form as dawn broke on the feast day of St Catherine, settling over the dirt and debris that came with a medieval market town.
Within the intimidating structure of Nottingham castle, the sheriff of the town was breaking his fast in the Great Hall whilst reading through important documents. The sheriff, though wrapped in heavy furs, shivered miserably as yet another gust of wind sent flakes of snow and sleet spilling into the room through the hollow window.
“Boy!” he roared, hoarsely, at a nearby page boy. “Get something to shut that window.” The boy only stared at him blankly. “Put some wood over it, fool,” he spat, returning his attention to the plate of food in front of him. “What is this?!”
“Your breakfast, sire,” the page boy squeaked, having located the correct wooden window shield from a pile in the corner of the large room.
“My breakfast?” The Sheriff lifted a thin sliver of ham from his plate and sniffed it hesitantly. “I can see through this slice,” he growled. “And this bread is staler than my dead mother.” To prove his point, he threw the chunk of bread at the page boy and smirked as the hard piece smacked the adolescent on the cheek.
“My lord, the chef said that with the storm arriving we had to conserve our supplies…”
“And is the chef sheriff, boy?”
“No… no, my lord.”
“And does the chef decide how much each person gets?”
“No, my lord, that is your jurisdiction.”
“Is it?” The Sheriff, knocked his plate onto the floor with a loud crash and reached instead for the silver goblet, mercifully filled to the brim with a deep red wine. “Well, I have an idea how to conserve food. Guards!” With his cry, four men, armoured in the traditional Norman style with steel helms containing wide nasals and coated in mail shirts. “Guards, go down into the kitchens and grab the chef. Strip him of his uniform and throw him in the dungeons. Don’t bother feeding him until after the storm has lifted.” The Sheriff smirked again as the guards left, a sly smile creeping over his rat-like face. “And boy!” he barked. “Go to the kitchens yourself and fetch me a new breakfast. I want a chunk of bacon, a small loaf of fresh bread and two boiled eggs. Without the shell.”
As the page boy hurried through the door, the towering form of Sir Guy entered, removing his outer cloak of grey wolf fur. Underneath his furs, he wore his regular attire of dark leather and his even darker facial expression.
“My lord.” He gave the Sheriff a deferential bow as he entered. “It seems we have some noble visitors at the gate.”
“Noble? How noble?”
“They claim to be the Earl of Malmesbury’s daughter and bastard son.”
“De Grey? I thought that git was in Ireland playing lord over the barbarians.”
“Apparently he is. The pair was heading for Lincoln when they were intercepted by Hood and his gang. The thieves took everything apart from their shifts and a cloak.”
“Are you sure they’re not frauds?” the Sheriff snarled, snatching the fresh plate from the page boy. “This egg is not boiled enough.” He threw the offending egg at the boy causing shell and yolk to splatter over his grey livery. “Get me a new one.” As the page boy slipped away, wiping egg and tears from his face, the Sheriff returned his attention to his lieutenant.
“I remember FitzHenry from Prince John’s tourney last spring. It was certainly him. I don’t know about the girl but she had de Grey’s colouring.”
“And this girl… Is she still in just a shift?” A dirty sneer crept over the Sheriff’s lips as he began to chew at the chunk of bacon.
“Yes but I’m sure I can persuade Lady Marian to lend her a gown if you desire.”
“There would be no need for that, Gisbourne. Send them in as they are.”
The brother and sister, as they were led into the Great Hall by a scowling Guy, were certainly a sorry pair. The man was tall and handsome, matching Guy in height and girth, but with a more cheerful expression. His face was dark from a mix of bruises and dirt and the curly brown locks that framed it were plastered down by snow and rain. Guy’s description of a shift had been slightly incorrect as rather than the pale pullover associated with sleeping, this young knight wore breeches and a dirty tunic in a light green shade. His bare legs though told a different story from the stupid grin on his face, ice-cold with a blue hue and streaked in blood and dirt.
His sister was cleaner with a ghostly-white face and long dark brown curls shielded from the weather by a threadbare cloak. Like her brother, she was bare foot but her shift (a typical night gown, the Sheriff was pleased to observe) covered her legs entirely. She was small compared to her towering sibling with a feline-like face that somehow was not as handsome as the goofy beauty of her brother. The Sheriff estimated her age at about thirteen or fourteen as he examined the small but noticeable womanly curves of a chest and hips on the girl’s otherwise thin frame.
“My lord sheriff,” the man, who could not be much older than twenty, smiled as he swept the Sheriff a respectful bow. “My sister and I apologise for our attire but we were set upon by outlaws in your forest.” His reference of “your forest” caused the Sheriff to grit his teeth in annoyance.
“The king’s forest, I believe you mean, Sir…”
“Sir Robert FitzHenry, my lord,” the pup smirked, his bright green eyes glowing. “And this is my sister, Lady Heloise de Grey.” The girl only glared reproachfully at the sheriff and his lieutenant with her large, oval, grey eyes.
“It is a pleasure to have you here, friends,” the Sheriff said, the lies feeling sour in his mouth. “But I must ask, why you have decided to arrive at such a time?” He raised his hands to gesture at the window where the wind howled through cracks in the wood. The girl shivered and her brother placed a dutiful arm over her shoulders.
“We were heading for Lincoln. Little Heloise was due to marry the Earl of Lincoln’s heir but the poor weather delayed us for a few days. Then, when we were finally making good time, that Robin and his men ensnared us, killed our guards and stole all of our belongings.” He shrugged as if this was a regular occurrence and merely tightened his grip on his sister. “They were decent enough to drop us off at the gates of Nottingham otherwise we would have frozen to death in the forest when the snows hit.”
“Yes, yes, Robin is full of kindness,” the Sheriff spat sarcastically, a small, evil yet ingenious idea forming in his head. He stood up momentarily from his wooden table and walked the short distance to the siblings. “Your father was always a loyal friend to me in our younger years-“. Truthfully, the high and mighty Malmesbury had never even acknowledged the Sheriff but his guests did not need to know that. “-It is a sign!” He looked up piously towards the ceiling of the Great Hall. “You may stay here as long as you wish. Drink our wine. Eat our food. Wear our clothes. When the weather improves, we shall give you fresh steeds.” Robert grinned foolishly, consuming every word greedily. The girl was less moved, eyeing the Sheriff with a calculating stare. That would soon change, the Sheriff thought cruelly. “Count this as a wedding present. Guy, escort Lady Heloise to Lady Marian’s chambers and get the girl to dress this one nicely. Guard! Take Sir Robert down to the kitchens and give him something warm to break his fast then escort him to one of Sir Guy’s bedchambers. Our Sir Guy won’t mind sacrificing a few clothes, would he?” Gisbourne merely scowled some more before bowing out of the hall with the pair.
Guy found the Sheriff later on, back in his extravagant chair and still munching on his breakfast thoughtfully.
“My lord, Lady Heloise is with Lady Marian now and FitzHenry is asleep on a trestle bed in my chamber. What would you have me do next?”
“Put a guard on Lady Heloise’s door. Let neither her nor Lady Marian leave until I instruct otherwise. Wait for FitzHenry to wake. Once he is awake, throw him in the dungeons.”
“My lord! But why?”
“The Earl of Malmesbury has never been my friend. He’s a Richard supporter. Always has been, always will. He almost sent Richard message of the Black Knight’s activity had my spies not silenced his messenger.” The Sheriff smirked, using his dagger to stab a boiled egg. “Send a pigeon to Lord Ranulf in Ireland. Raise a small troop of Irish warriors and attack his lodgings. Have everyone within killed but make it seem as if it’s an Irish revenge attack. Prince John will be pleased to have one less troublesome noble on his plate and his lands and title will go to the Earl’s only legitimate child: the girl!
“Then send a pigeon to Sir Gilbert in Lincoln. He mentioned he was attending some big noble wedding, did he not? Get him to get the girl’s bridegroom drunk. Take him for a tour of the castle walls. If a slightly drunk wobble causes him to fall off… Well-“. The Sheriff bit into the soft egg white. “-accidents always happen.”
“My lord,” Guy raised a sceptical eyebrow. “But why do we need to go to such trouble? The de Grey girl and FitzHenry boy are here only for a short period.”
“Exactly, Gisbourne. That’s why we must act fast. As long as the snows last, the pair cannot leave the castle. Once the snow has melted though, neither will be leaving. FitzHenry will either be a good, little prisoner or a carcass. And Lady Heloise? Well, she’ll be my lady wife.”