Sir Guy's diary
Disclaimer, so no one calls the police: this is the fictional diary of Sir Guy of Gisborne from the Robin Hood BBC TV series. This season he basically has two settings: homicidal or suicidal, so please also consider this a trigger warning.
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13th October, in this the year of our Lord 1194
Nottingham Castle
Dear Diary,
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.
While we were suffocating, Tuck, John and the peasants were staging a peaceful protest before the gates of Nottingham. They sat before the gates, blocking the way and forcing the soldiers to decide whether or not they could strike down unarmed people in cold blood. Even Blamire hesitated, so they say! Isabella was the only one callous enough to strike the first blow - but this served only to convince Archer that he had made a mistake in choosing her side. He rallied the peasants and outlaws, and chased the soldiers from Nottingham - and then came to our rescue, just in time. Now everyone knows about the tunnel, but as it is conveniently blocked by the aforementioned tons of limestone gravel, it should not matter. It was not the worst death I have faced recently, and I was glad to find that I was not unmanned when facing it, this time. Still, every time I shake my hair, a handful of gravel falls out.
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.
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13th October, in this the year of our Lord 1194
Nottingham Castle
Dear Diary,
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.
While we were suffocating, Tuck, John and the peasants were staging a peaceful protest before the gates of Nottingham. They sat before the gates, blocking the way and forcing the soldiers to decide whether or not they could strike down unarmed people in cold blood. Even Blamire hesitated, so they say! Isabella was the only one callous enough to strike the first blow - but this served only to convince Archer that he had made a mistake in choosing her side. He rallied the peasants and outlaws, and chased the soldiers from Nottingham - and then came to our rescue, just in time. Now everyone knows about the tunnel, but as it is conveniently blocked by the aforementioned tons of limestone gravel, it should not matter. It was not the worst death I have faced recently, and I was glad to find that I was not unmanned when facing it, this time. Still, every time I shake my hair, a handful of gravel falls out.
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.