Chapter Text
SIR GUY OF GISBOURNE’S EVIL PLAN.
(The first three chapters all take place before the events of the original story.)
After King Richard had returned, he made swift justice of the culprits for the sufferings of the English people: Prince John, Sir Hiss and the Sheriff of Nottingham were to break rocks at the Royal Pile all day long, for the rest of their life; and they would have slept in the same jail common criminals were also imprisoned.
He was considered by his subjects to be a wise king and a valiant, honorable warrior; but it was the latter part of his personality which betrayed him: and soon, after having returned to England from the Crusade, he went to war again; this time against France, with which the territories of Brittany and Normandy were contended since more than a century, since the times, in 1066, when William the Conqueror seized the English Throne, leaving uncertainty around the position of his native lands.
And it seemed to be another one of those very same days in the five years since King Richard had returned: breaking rocks all day long, and then being escorted into jail at the sunset; eating the stew or porridge with stale bread dipped into, and then going to sleep until dawn, when wards were to forcibly awaken the prisoners and escorting them to their assigned forced labor positions. But it actually wasn’t one of those nights: in the cold of a late winter night, a cloaked figure was swiftly moving through the obscurity…
“Nothing new again, huh?”, suddenly uttered Trigger, breaking the silence.
“Well, nothing… Seems like the routine is now well-established”, replied Nutsy.
“But King Richard? He isn’t, like, immortal…”
“He has pardoned us and you are wishing him death?!? And I’m the one called Nutsy…”
“That’s not to wish him to die… More like, he has no direct hier, and who’s gonna ascend to the Throne after him? After all, he’s a mere mortal like us…”
“His nephew Arthur, or maybe even the ward… After all, she’s her adoptive niece.”
“Oh, yes – The one outlaw’s bride, which has now made him an in-law… Just imagine, him as the Consort King… What can be more absurd?”
“Prince John again!”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!! After all what he has done?!? Richard hates him so much he doesn’t even want to see him, having him on the Throne once more?!? You cracked a fantastic joke…”
As soon as they said this, the cloaked figure emerged from the surrounding bushes:
“I salute you – May I talk with the prisoners?”
“We are sorry, Sir, but entrance to the Royal Prison is forbidden, unless Thou have a special permission – Show it us, or we shall ask you to leave.”
The figure took off the hood, revealing himself as a tall, charming and yet broody gray fox:
“Sir Guy?!?”, shouted Trigger and Nutsy in unison.
“Yes, that’s me. And as a noble, the Earl of Gisbourne himself, I shall be granted access, right?...”, he said, showing off his fangs and menacingly unsheating his sword.
“Here now I command”, said Guy, while keeping Trigger and Nutsy under the menace of his sword – “Guide me towards the prisoners of the Royal Pile, and you’ll be spared. Otherwise…”
The two vultures were terrorized, and couldn’t but obey.
“Now give me the key and leave. Nothing happened, right?”, he asked, while taking in his left hand a moneybag from his belt.
“N-n-n-nothing.”
“Remember: if nothing has happened, you’ll get the money and a good job. If something has happened…”, said in between his barren teeth, menacingly shaking the sword.
The vultures left, while Guy opened the cellar. He lit up a small torch, and looked for his old friend among the prisoners.
“Psss… The honorable Sheriff of Nottingham?”
“Guy?!?”, said the Sheriff, incredulous.
“Yes, good, ol’ friend o’ mine… And with great news. Wake up His Majesty the Prince and his advisor, I have an offer for him he can’t refuse…”
“Thus, my brother is dying?”, asked Prince John.
“Oh, yes, Thyne Majesty – His hobby as a knight has proven being quite risky, hasn’t it? He caught an arrow in a shoulder. Now the wound is gangrenous, he basically is rotting alive, and no amount of bloodletting is making him better. He’s more dead than alive, and Throne is up for grabbing…”
“But Ssssssssssssir Guy”, intervened Hiss – “an heir to the throne isssssssssssss there, and he issssssssssssss Arthur of Brittany…”
“Hiss, shut up!”, shouted John while chocking him – “We have some true noble which can put us in our rightful position once again, don’t ruin it once again!”, and he threw him on the ground.
“Arthur of Brittany is no problem”, Guy resumed – “There’s a loophole in the law: according to the Norman Law, he is the legitimate heir. But…”
“But?...”, asked John, the sinister light he had in his eyes back when he was on the throne igniting once again.
“But it’s written nowhere it has replaced the Anglo-Saxon Law, and according to it Thou arst the legitimate heir to the Throne…”, said Guy, while bowing to him.
“Hiss! You never found such loophole! I now know why the Sheriff always have considered you as his best friend, Guy… Now I’m ready to take the Throne once again!”
“Thank you, Thyne Majesty, but now I must still remember you… Arthur still might claim the throne for himself. We shall get rid of him anyway, right?”, asked the Sheriff.
“In case, my good friend William De Braose might take care of him – He still is my nephew, he still is barely a teen, but that pipsqueak better shut up, or might not live long enough to get a full mane…”
“And still…”, added Guy, with the deepest, most chilling possible voice – “Thou also still have one more obstacle, right?...”
“Oh, yes… That Robin Hood is still around. Oh, I have no problem – I’ll just retire the pardon my brother gave him, have him executed and…”
“And Thou were about to talk of the true obstacle, right?...”
“Oh, my niece Marian… Yes, the Sheriff told me he wanted to arrange a marriage for her with you. Since Robin will be executed, the I can force the poor widow to marry you and everything will be alright…”
“Ssssssssssir, pleasssssssssssse… Ssssssssstick with thisssssssssss plan… It’sssssssssss the lowessssssssssst-rissssssssssk option…”
“No, no…”, said Guy, his mouth grinning in the most disturbing possible smile – “Traitors like them deserve the worst… Once Richard will be completely dead, they surely will have to go to London for his funeral service. Just wait them outside their chateau, and at that point… A swift ambush to take out the two lovebirds (or lovefoxes, Thou decide) with one stone… Or one arrow, to be more precise.”
“And what if either of the two will sssssssssssurvive?”
“If it’ll be the mushy vixen, she’ll either have to marry me, or be executed for high treason. If it’ll be that piece of rubbish which she married, I’ll take care of him…”
“Yes, Yes! YES!!! Guy, you are a genius! I now order you to start spreading the voice Richard is on his deathbed, and has made me his hier according to Law… Anglo-Saxon Law. Then, you’ll take care of the others…”
“With the utmost pleasure, Thyne Majesty…”, Guy replied, while bowing – “Anything else Thou wish for? Thyne bidding is mine bidding, Sir.”
“If you’ll go to Brittany to take care of Arthur, as a King I’ll also need someone to produce me a heir… You know what I mean.”
“Oh, yes… The House of Angouleme might have an available bride, Isabelle… She seems to have already been promised to some local noble, but she’s nothing we can’t buy with the rich dowry literally only a King can afford.”
“Right, Guy… You already are my favorite one. Let’s be happy, my good servants… Today it’s the beginning of our new raise to power. Power! POWER!”