Kate found this book and brought it to me. I have read it, and taken it as Guy might have wanted: in the spirit of the confessional. It is certainly an enlightening document, if at times confused, wrathful, drunken, and self-deluding. Archer told me of their final fight in the tunnel under the castle, but I think there is much we will never know about Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne.
Sadly, his efforts were in vain: Isabella had poisoned her dagger, and in the struggle, managed to graze Robin. It was a mere scratch, but sufficient to be fatal. When they realised that both Guy and Robin would die, Isabella and the Sheriff were overjoyed. They fled to rejoin their army and enter the castle. As Death's icy grip closed around him, Guy spoke of a hidden cellar where the people could hide as the soldiers passed, and thereafter escape to safety. Then he bade farewell to Archer, the brother they had so recently found, who would now lose them both. In Robin's arms, Guy breathed his last.
Robin survived long enough to lead the people safely out of the castle. His final arrow flew unerringly through a window of the Great Hall, and lit the barrels of Byzantine Fire we had created and stockpiled there. I am sure there has never been an explosion like it in all England. Nottingham Castle fell, obliterating the Sheriff, Isabella, and all their men. The people are freed from their tyranny at last! With his final strength, Robin retreated into Sherwood, wishing to die alone. His friends are heavy with grief, but his spirit is now with Marian.
Guy had some evil deeds to his name, it is true, and we cannot undo the past, nor should we forget those whose lives he darkened. But we also remember that he died bravely, in the selfless protection of others. We, the outlaws who came to know him, will honour the good he has done. I pray that God has mercy on his soul.
We are in desperate straits, but we must hold out against the siege. The trebuchets are no more: we set them so they would still launch, but straight up in the air, so the missiles came right back down and destroyed them. Moreover, Archer managed to steal some of the Byzantine Fire, which Tuck is attempting to replicate. Still, the Sheriff's men outnumber us by five or six to one, and they are trained, whilst ours are merely peasants – and today we received the unwelcome news that Richard has been taken prisoner in Austria, so his troops will not come to our aid. But we are committed: if we surrender now, or if our defence falters, we will be slaughtered. The Sheriff will give no quarter.
I stay also because of Robin. He may be smug, arrogant, reckless, sanctimonious, and vain, but he is a great leader... and he is a hero. Notions that do not occur to others – or if they do, they dismiss them immediately as wild dreams – are to him as good as done. He inspires others to achieve the impossible. And he would die for the very humblest of these people. He even believes in me. I think I see something of his goodness in Archer, too. I am glad he has come over to our side – although I fear he will not live to fulfil his potential.
I could never hope to match Robin, but I can emulate him, can follow him, and begin to learn as I do so what it means to stand up for an unselfish cause. I do not love each and every smelly peasant – I do not have it in me! – but I see their bravery in facing an enemy so much greater than them, I see how they have been driven to it by the cruelty of their betters, and I begin to understand why a man might wish to stand with them, though it means his life. And I remember Marian, and Allan, and Meg, and wish to honour their memories. I am strangely easy with the decision. As though my heart and mind are no longer at war.
I cannot blame the Sheriff for the man I was. I chose his way, knowing what he was like – I chose him as my route to money, power and security, knowing that what I did was wrong. I selfishly hoped that it would bring me to the fulfilment of my ambition. Of course it did not – the road was accursed. I should have chosen to follow Marian in the Holy Land. She would never have been mine, I know, but she would have lived, and I would not have this heavy weight of guilt upon my shoulders. I might have become a man she could respect – and maybe one day I might have found someone else I could love, who loved me in return.
If we are to win, it will take a miracle. But this time, I fight with Robin Hood. With him at my side, I believe that anything is possible.
We have taken the castle – that was the easy part. Easy! My definition of that word has changed. Robin, Much and I were nearly killed in the secret tunnel, buried under tons of limestone gravel. Archer had somehow learned of the tunnel's existence (he is as bad as Robin for stumbling across information at just the wrong moment!), and taken his knowledge to Isabella, hoping to endear himself to his wealthy and powerful half-sister. They set a trap, and we walked right into it. Much and I created a bridge for Robin, to keep him above the falling stones so that one of us might live – but even that was not enough. Archer's trap was too good.
We took the city, and made Isabella our prisoner. But the moment of our triumph was short-lived: at the gates lay our first casualty. Allan. We had suspected that he betrayed us – Isabella proclaimed him pardoned, and we could not risk it – and so we had left him tied up in Sherwood. Somehow he must have escaped – and someone had killed him, and left him outside the gates like a cat leaves its prey. When we looked up from our grief, the perpetrator was before our eyes. An army approached – Blamire had fled to join them – and at its head rode...
The Sheriff.
He is alive!
When I saw him, I felt a thrill of fear and dread that set my hairs on end and knotted my stomach. But how did he survive – and why did no one inform me at the time? He must have had loyal men – or ambitious ones – amongst the Nottingham soldiers. He was grievously wounded, he says, but I missed his heart. I begin to think that he does not possess one. He is an implacable enemy – my blood, and our unconditional surrender, is the only apology he will accept. But even after all I have done, Robin refused to hand me over. How different he is to the Sheriff! I was so wrong about them both.
Worse news is that the Sheriff has Byzantine Fire (sold to him by my foolish brother!), and will attack at dawn. So tonight, I go with Robin, Tuck and John to quietly damage their trebuchets. Kate has returned – she and Robin had some idiotic dispute over Isabella's necklace, but it is now settled. She is to be sent away again to Loughborough, to fetch King Richard's troops.
Isabella is in the castle dungeon, where once she imprisoned me. She is wild with rage and fear, to the edge of madness. Whatever the outcome now, she has lost: Prince John will not forgive her for losing the castle. I found I could not bear the thought of how she might suffer, so for our mother's sake, I brought her a bottle of poison. She may use it as a last resort, if she chooses.
We held a funeral for Allan. I wish I had taken the time to speak to him, when first I joined Robin's gang – to tell him that I understood his motives and did not bear a grudge, and that I was glad we ended up on the same side once more. I would have told him that I missed his jokes, except that it is not true: they were appallingly vulgar. But it is too late, and we have no time for mourning. We may all join him soon enough.
Robin has come up with a plan. I do not know if it is madness or brilliance – probably a bit of both. He wishes to take Nottingham, imprison Isabella, and to defend the town against all comers until the King returns.
But there are ill omens for this venture. We have heard that Isabella has a new lieutenant, one James Blamire. I know him. He is a mercenary, and a friend – as much as the man ever had them – of the old Sheriff. I do not like that Isabella has now found him – I mistrust what it means. Even if I ignore the shiver of superstition that I feel, Blamire cannot be underestimated. He is clever, and entirely ruthless.
And yesterday we found part of Isabella's necklace in camp. It belonged to our mother, and she cherished it. I am puzzled as to how it got there, but no doubt there is some innocent explanation. I am getting as paranoid as the Sheriff! Nevertheless, I showed it to Robin and Tuck. For a moment they doubted me! As if I would be so stupid as to tell them of its origin, if I were still in league with my sister.
And another odd occurrence, although I do not know if I would consider it an ill omen: Kate has disappeared, and we do not know why. Robin seems disturbed, but I confess I am quietly relieved. She once described me as "pure evil", and I do not think my actions since have gentled her opinion one whit.
Even with Robin's luck, we may not return from this venture, so I have told Tuck the location of Meg's grave, and he has promised to say a Mass for her soul. And so I am prepared, and tomorrow we go to Nottingham. God help us all.
The King is returning, and Isabella is stealing peasants. She is sending them to Prince John, to be made into soldiers in his rebellion against Richard. Already Clun and Nettlestone are emptied. She tried to take a hundred men from Locksley, but we arrived in time to stop it.
I remember when John and Richard rebelled against their father, twenty years ago. I was a boy when the rebels burned Nottingham – I remember the sorrow in my mother's face as she helped to treat the survivors. King Henry forgave the princes – God rot them – but the country has not forgotten that terrible time. If there is to be war, it must be ended quickly. If we can weaken John, Richard will triumph all the more easily.
Isabella has chosen the opposing side. She must believe that John is the stronger candidate, and in truth, I can understand her point of view, even if I do not share her trust that the country would be quiescent beneath his tyranny. But John is strong-willed, ambitious, and not afraid to put his schemes into action – and he at least is in England! Perhaps when his brother rebels, the King will finally realise that he needs to stay and produce an heir. We are all at the mercy of these infernal Plantagenets.
We are back at the outlaw's camp, though the return journey took a great deal longer on foot. I am in an odd position. Robin has accepted me. He speaks up for me to the others, and I do not know what to make of it. He is almost protective of me. I suspect I may have become another of the hopeless causes that he loves to espouse. I do not need a champion!
Tuck is a warrior-priest and an idealist, even more so than Robin. He believes we are fighting a crusade against Prince John and Isabella. I declined his offer of confession – my sins are too heavy for the absolution of one priest, no matter how mighty a servant of the Lord he may be. So now he treats me as he would a sharp tool: he speaks practically of how best to use me in a fight, and he does not trust me not to cut him if I am handled unwarily. He at least does not hold a personal grudge against me.
Only Robin treats me as a member of the gang – and I am pathetically grateful. I would never have expected this. I would never have imagined that Hood, of all people, would be the solid rock against which I set my back. I know he will lead me into peril, he will endanger my life and liberty – and yet I know he will not let me down.
I lost my nerve when they put the noose around my neck. Even though I was with Robin and Archer – who seem to have the Devil's own luck – I could feel nothing but the rope pressing into my throat, see nothing but the eager eyes of the crowd. I have faced execution more than once, and never has it been easy, but I could not marshal my courage this time – I could not remember how. I have never felt such blind panic. I hope no one noticed. Robin was nearest, and he has not mentioned it.
After all that, Archer refused to join us, as there was no profit in it! And then he stole my horse to make his getaway. He is safe, at least, so our mission was a partial success.
28th September, in this the year of our Lord 1194. York prison.
Dear Diary,
I have found my brother. He reminds me of Hood. No wonder they want to hang him.
In fairness, Robin did break us out – briefly. If Archer hadn't insisted on taking the other prisoners along with us, and if Robin hadn't agreed, we might have made a clean escape. But we were caught. Archer tried to hold Robin hostage, but it failed – there were guards in the outer chamber, when he tried to make his escape. Isabella's lieutenant is here to ask that Robin and I be handed over alive, so she might have the pleasure of killing us. The Sheriff of York was not interested in bargaining, though, so now we are all set to hang.
Archer says that he was doing very well in his own escape plans – namely seducing the Sheriff's wife – and that our interference was unnecessary. Robin jokes that I should be used to prison by now. Archer is demanding to know what I am writing; Robin is telling him to let me be. Now they are squabbling, and soon – ah, yes, now they are brawling.
If this is what it is like to have younger brothers, I count myself fortunate to have missed out on the experience until now. I had better go and bash their silly heads together before they bring the guards down on us.
I will admit that it is hard to feel despondent when imprisoned with these two.