Fic: To Cozen Fortune - Chapter 9
Title, Chapter: To Cozen Fortune, Chapter 9
Author: roh_wyn
Summary: Guy and Isabella leave Locksley and arrive in France to make a new life for themselves. A pre-series exploration of these two characters and how they become the people we see on the show.
Characters/Pairings: Guy of Gisborne, Isabella, Lambert (of black powder fame), OCs.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 3x10, "Bad Blood"; possible (but inadvertent) fudging of canon timeline
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to Tiger Aspect, BBC and legend. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
Notes: Many thanks to applebeing for her excellent beta work. Any errors that remain are mine entirely. Thanks to shinysparks for her amazing artistic contribution. Thanks also to kegel84 who kept me company online as I wrote this story, and to railise and thymelady for helping me with the title.
Artwork by shinysparks
Chapter 9. Gates of Hell
Mid-September 1177
Guy shuffled slowly along the dirt path from the church back to his rooms, his mind awhirl with the events of the past few days. There had been no new revelations, either from Lambert or Isabella, and although many at the abbey had congratulated him on hearing of his new appointment with John of Salisbury at Chartres, Guy himself was no more certain of it than he'd been when he had first heard the news. Mostly, he was worried that Lambert's words would come true and he would prove to be an unworthy scholar.
The truth was that the deeper exploration of science, philosophy and law simply did not interest him. He liked hearing about the kings of old, how they'd vanquished their enemies and forged new alliances. The day's lessons-on Aristotle, whose philosophies he did not particularly care for-had been going well, until Lambert, more fractious and sullen than usual, had picked a fight with the lessons master. It was an argument over a point that none of the other students either understood or cared about, and Lambert had been properly scolded for his impertinence and sent away, leaving Guy to himself for the rest of the day.
Briefly, he'd considered going into town on the pretext of seeing the horse trader, but really to see Anne. In the past few weeks, since he'd learned her true predicament, he'd developed a new fondness for her he had not quite expected. He'd realized she was more than just a pretty woman with a clever mind. She was someone who needed him, to help her, maybe even protect her, but he did not think Anne could relate to his current problems with Lambert, or even his future plans, so he decided against it, preferring to keep to himself.
The solitude was welcome in its way, giving him some much-needed peace and quiet, a chance to think, but no matter how much he applied himself to the problem, no solution presented itself. He still had no idea how to set things right for Isabella so that she could rely on Lambert and yet not have to suffer any consequences. Leaving a monastery was no trivial matter. To abandon God and the men who had traveled the path with you, to disregard all the sacrifices the abbey had made in feeding and clothing you was nothing short of betrayal, and for all his talk of brave reason, Lambert knew enough about society not to chance such a thing.
Still, it was not as if novices never left the monastic orders. It happened a few times every year, and more often than not, the reason was not a woman but some circumstance beyond the man's control. Last year, two novices had left when their fathers had died and they'd had to return home to care for their families. The church was not so cruel or removed from everyday life that it did not understand the compulsions of ordinary men. Still, it was one thing to have to leave because Fate had decreed it, and quite another to leave because of love.
Perhaps his uncle would have an answer. This thought reassured Guy, and he picked up his pace as he doubled back on the path and headed to the abbot's chambers, kicking himself for not thinking of this sooner. Halfway up the stairs to his destination, hesitation began. His uncle was a busy man and did not always have time to spare for the whims and fancies of his wards. It would be better to let him know Guy needed an audience and let the abbot call him in when he wished.
He turned back around and raced down the stairs, heading to the abbey's library. He'd write the abbot a formal request for an interview and then bring up the matter in a private setting. He was so preoccupied by his plan that Guy did not see the abbot turning the corner as he bounded down the stairs. They crashed into each other, and the impact sent Guy sprawling.
The abbot recovered quickly, then helped Guy back to his feet. "In a bit of a hurry, lad?"
"So sorry, my lord abbot. I should watch where I'm going."
The abbot dismissed the apology with a wave and a cluck of his tongue. "It's good that I ran into you-or you into me, rather."
Guy smiled, pleased that chance had so neatly moved the world around for him. "I had something I wanted to speak with you about as well."
"Walk with me to the cloisters, and we'll discuss your matter then."
They walked in silence for a few moments, Guy taking the opportunity to study the abbot at close range. There were a few more wrinkles around the eyes and a few more silver hairs than had been there when Guy had first arrived in Caën, but the abbot was, for the most part, unchanged. If worry niggled at him, if the burden of being responsible for so many others troubled him, it did not show on his face. Guy hoped he would be able to show the same impassivity one day.
"So what was it you wanted to speak to me about, Guy?"
"About Isabella, actually." He hesitated a little, before adding, "About her future."
"Ah, you've heard then? I was wondering if she'd have told you already."
"My lord?"
"Yes, I should be congratulating you, shouldn't I? Thanks to Isabella's marriage, you'll have a new brother soon."
Guy's resolve faltered. Did the abbot already know about Isabella and Lambert? Had things gone as far as marriage without his knowledge?
The abbot seemed to note his confusion and shook his head. "I see you have not heard the news then. Well, it's just as well, for I'm telling you. Isabella is to be married. To Thornton of Shrewsbury."
Guy stopped short, not caring that Martin had walked on without him. "What?"
"Did you not hear what I said?" Martin added with too much feigned innocence.
"When did all this happen? Who is…this Thornton of Surrey?"
"Shrewsbury. He's a wealthy landowner and a titled noble. A good match for your sister, wouldn't you say?"
Guy let the words sink in, feeling a knot of despair in the pit of his stomach that grew tighter with every breath. "Why didn't you tell me? You didn't even ask me!"
"I didn't realize I needed your permission, Guy."
He choked out the only words that came to him. "Did you even ask her? If this was what she wanted?"
Martin looked shocked. "Of course I asked her. I told you once before, I'm not cruel." He laughed mirthlessly. "At least not intentionally."
"And did she agree?"
Martin hesitated, but when he answered, his eyes were steady and his tone betrayed no doubt. "She is a clever girl, one who understands the world, and her duty in it. Of course she agreed. I would not have gone forward otherwise."
Guy sighed. "And what is to become of her now?"
"Nothing is to become of her. This is a happy circumstance, Guy, not a tragedy. She will be married at the Holy Trinity on Michaelmas, and when the lady abbess deems her ready, she will be sent to her husband in England."
"And in the meantime?"
Martin arched an eyebrow at him. "And in the meantime, Thornton will help his new brother with his chosen life. He will help defray the costs of your studies and-"
Guy did not let him finish. "She's my sister. She's my responsibility! And you just gave her to this man…you sold her!"
Martin wheeled around and grabbed Guy's shoulder. "I did no such thing. I am her guardian-and I might remind you, yours as well. Whatever else I may do, I always act in your best interest."
He let Guy go and shook his head, his expression changing from anger to sadness. "You and Isabella are the closest thing I will ever have to my own children. I would not wrong you - you must believe me.
"I only want you both to do well, and though it is not a perfect arrangement, a good marriage is the only way Isabella can do well in this world."
Martin sighed. "There are sacrifices to be made in every life, Guy. To be a great man, you may have to sacrifice other, more ordinary dreams. This is Isabella's sacrifice. She does it for you. Don't belittle her choice."
Guy said nothing, surprised by this sudden display of sentiment from Martin. He felt a great wave of sadness overcome him, for the man who would marry his sister, for the man who should have married her, and even for Martin. But mostly, his grief was for Isabella, for the happy girl she'd once been, for the lonely orphan she was now, and for the grown woman she'd soon be forced to become.
--
Night had fallen, and it was well past the hour when strange men were admitted to the Holy Trinity or to the abbey within, but Lambert knocked on the heavy church door, knowing that even a house of nuns could not turn away a supplicant, no matter how late the hour. That he was not an actual supplicant was, in his mind, unimportant.
After several minutes of frantic knocking, the door creaked, and a stern-looking woman opened the door. Lambert was reminded sharply of the day he had first arrived at St. Stephen's. The world had been a different place then, and now, he had to act to keep it from being turned on its head.
The nun clucked her tongue as she pulled him into the church. "Do you have no sense, lad? You'll catch your death in the rain like that!"
That was not the reaction Lambert had expected, and for just a moment, he was dumbstruck and goggled at the woman. She took the opportunity to scold him again. "Probably hungry, too. Off to the kitchens with you then!" She dragged him behind her by the elbow, and this time, he noted the hint of sympathy and concern in her voice, and he let himself be coaxed into the abbey without speaking his mind.
In the abbey's kitchen, warmed by the fire and a bowl of hot broth, Lambert recovered his initial determination. "I'm here to see someone," he said, to nobody in particular.
The kitchen maid sniggered. "That's what they usually say, when they come here. It's why they bring you here, instead of just letting you shout and wail outside. I'm sure someone will be along to set you straight soon."
Lambert considered a retort, then decided to save his energies. If the maid was right, it would be a task just to see Isabella, much less convince her to go along with his own plans. He set his mind to persuading her, his thoughts running far and wide, before he was called back to reality by the sound of a gentle cough.
"So, to what do we owe the honor?"
From her attire, and the way the kitchen maid curtsied low and then scurried away, he guessed this was the lady abbess herself. He bowed low and waited a moment before speaking, as politeness required.
"My lady abbess. I'm called Lambert. I'm here to see my…er, Isabella of Gisborne."
"Ah," she said, only a hint of mockery in her voice. "And would it not have been better to come during the day, when it is more seemly?"
He nodded, schooling himself to polite calmness. "Yes. But it was a matter of some urgency."
"Life and death, I'm sure." This time, her mocking tone was quite clear to Lambert, and not knowing how to react, he decided just to remain silent.
The abbess sighed. "Very well. My inclination is to refuse you, but I have a sense you will not go quietly, and I do not wish for a scene. I will have Isabella sent down, on one condition.
"When you are done speaking with her, you will leave this place in peace and not return to disturb us again."
Lambert hesitated, not liking that he was unwelcome or that the abbess had the power to keep him from seeing Isabella, but he understood that argument and hostility would not get him anywhere, so he courteously agreed.
The abbess nodded curtly in his direction and left him alone with his thoughts. Now that he was here, he was forced to consider what he would do if Isabella did agree with him. Lambert's plan had only been to convince her to leave the abbey and run away somewhere with him. He knew it was what she wanted, and it had taken only a bit of pressure from Guy's words for Lambert to realize it as well. But, unusually for him, he had not considered the other facets of the problem. Neither Lambert nor Isabella had any money, and it was not as if Guy did either. More than that, neither had any skills they could trade on, Isabella's brief encounter with weaving notwithstanding. It would be years before he would have either the money or the influence to help make a good life for them.
Maybe Anne, the horse trader's sister, could help them. At first, he dismissed the idea. Although Anne had some money and a roof over her head, she was not a woman of means, and there was her brother to contend with besides. Still, she was Guy's friend - perhaps more than a friend, he conceded - and it was possible she'd give, or at least lend, Guy a small sum of money. If Guy were to give that to his sister, they could start a new life in another town or village. Lambert knew it was impossible for him to stay at the abbey and pursue the path set out for him, and the same would be true for Guy, once the abbot discovered he'd thwarted Isabella's marriage.
He kept his eyes trained on the door while he tried to work out the problem, and his concentration was rewarded when it opened to admit Isabella. To his wonder, she looked neither worried nor particularly surprised. If she was troubled by recent events, she was certainly putting a bright face on it.
"Bella!" He reached out to take her hand, but she held herself stiffly and did not return the gesture in full measure. He frowned at her and raised an eyebrow, a silent question, but she did not reply in the same vein.
"It's good to see you."
She gave him a bright smile. "You've heard the news then. I'm to be married. You should see the dress the abbess has-"
Lambert grabbed her elbow and pulled her close, whispering in her ear. "Listen, you don't have to go through with it. I'll figure out some way to get you out of here. We can-"
She pulled out of his grasp. "Stop it! What do you think you're doing?"
"I thought that we were…" He struggled to find the right words in light of her reaction. Had he misunderstood everything? Had she? No, that wasn't possible. Was it?
"You've said, so many times that-"
Isabella's eyes slid away from his, but only for a moment. "What have I said? What have I really said?"
"I…I don't know. I thought we were…close, I suppose."
"Oh, Lambert." She sighed, and in her eyes, he could see great pity. "For all your cleverness, you really are a fool, aren't you?"
"What?"
"I don't know what you thought, but you have it all wrong." She glared at him. "And it's one thing for others to think there was something between us, but you? You should know better!"
"Isabella, you are-"
"Think about it. Why would I want to be with you, Lambert? What can you give me? What can you give Guy?"
Lambert bristled and moved to defend himself, even if reason suggested he did not need to. "I'm clever in my way. I might become a great scholar one day. I could take care of you, and-"
"One day? How long am I to wait? Am I supposed to starve and live on the street?"
He gaped at her. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never once seen Isabella speak of money or position in this way, and this new knowledge left him floundering and searching for words. "But, Bella…you can't just…I mean, will you just marry this Thornton then? You don't know anything about him!"
"I know the important things about him. I know he's never been married before, so he will cherish me. I know he has land and title, so I will be a lady, as I was born to be.
"More than that, I know he has money and lands. He'll keep me the way I deserve to be kept.
He'll help my brother-"
"Your brother? What does Guy have to do with all this?"
She laughed haughtily. "Nothing a woman does in this world is just for herself, Lambert.
"What can you do for me? For Guy?" She spat the words at him, and he could no longer see any pity in her expression. "What are you, in the end, but the poor son of a common tradesman?"
As she spoke, the tiny ember of angry disbelief in his heart began to grow, fanning itself into a roaring blaze. He bellowed at her. "Stop it. You're lying to me. You've never said these kinds of things before. I think you're under some sort of influence, and you've forgotten who you really are, or-"
"I am Isabella of Gisborne. I swore to restore the pride of my family and to help Guy do the same. I know my duty, and you should know yours." There was an edge to her voice, and her words cut through the air, as startling as the crack of a whip.
Lambert was appalled. He watched her in shock, but she said nothing more, her face settling into an impassive and calm expression. He could read nothing in her eyes, and the realization she was lost to him settled into the pit of his stomach.
He took a few deep breaths, and then regarding her calmly, he spoke. "So you've decided then. For both of us. Very well, so be it."
Lambert did not wait for her reaction, and as the wooden door shut behind him with a heavy thud, he sank to his knees and wept.
--
A day later
Guy left the abbey in the middle of the night. He could not sleep for all the thoughts and worries on his mind, most of them for Isabella and Lambert, and he'd considered that a walk would help clear his head. It was nearly dawn by the time he finished the first few passes of the church's close, but he'd had a sudden urge to keep walking, to be cleansed by the arrival of a new day, so he had ventured beyond the close and into town.
The day itself seemed to be mocking him. It was bright and cheerful, an exact contrast to his mood. He was exhausted now and wanted nothing more than to curl up into his mattress and sleep until it was dark again, so the sun could no longer scorn him. Yet he could not return to his rooms at the abbey without having to answer all sorts of questions, especially from Lambert. So he walked on past the town's houses and the castle, tired and aimless, until he found himself in the middle of town, on the doorstep of a tavern.
Perfect. Guy was pleased to find a place where everything was dark and everyone was indifferent, and he sat down heavily on one of the wooden benches. Before he could think better of it, a tankard of ale had been set before him, and he drank, the dark bitter liquid a balm for his tired mind. He felt its warmth at the back of his throat and through his limbs. It made the aches in his heart and in his mind disappear, and before anyone could stop him, he downed the entire thing. He wiped his mouth roughly on his tunic and made a loud demand for another, then another, and another still. Being drunk and dissolute was perhaps no way for a monk to live, but it had its clear advantages.
After he'd been through several pints, however-he'd lost count after the fifth-Guy began to understand why drunks were so rarely successful. He could not quite feel his legs, and the ale sloshing around in his stomach was far too reminiscent of the boat trip from England. He tried to stand, pushing himself away from the bench, but he lost his footing and staggered back, bumping into one of the other patrons and upending his ale.
The man whose drink he'd upset was large and not nearly as drunk as Guy. Even in his dulled state, Guy understood that he'd be no match for this man in a fight. He put up his palms. "Listen, friend, I'm-"
The other man brought up his fist and seemed ready to propel it into Guy's face, when Guy felt a pair of arms pull him back and drag him outside. He was dropped on the ground and he tried to get up, just as a bucket of cold water splashed into his face. He gasped for air and scrubbed at his face to get the water out of his eyes.
"Feeling better now?" It was Anne.
She grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him gently. "What are you doing anyhow? Drinking? Fighting?"
He shook his head, but found this did not help his current state. "I wasn't doing either of those things. I mean, I was drinking, but I wasn't fighting. It was all an accident."
Guy tried to put things in the right light. "I was upset, you know. Over everything that's happened. With Isabella getting married. And Lambert, I can't find him anywhere, and I was just so…" His voice trailed off, and he felt a rush of emotion, a desperate need to cry. The feeling horrified him, and he hung his head in shame and confusion.
She seemed to understand, and instead of scolding him again, she held out her hand. "Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" She pulled him by the hand. "C'mon. I can't drag you there. You'll have to do some of the work."
By the time they got to Anne's cottage, the fresh air had helped clear Guy's head a little. He could at least see straight and remember how he'd come to be in the tavern in the first place. Anne's reproach, however, was harder to swallow, and he tried not to look straight into her eyes as she watched him.
"I never paid for all the ale I had," he said morosely.
"I know, but don't worry - you can pay me later."
He smiled sheepishly. "I don't have any money."
She laughed and reached over to wipe his head with the rag she was holding. His drunken state and her nearness conspired to make Guy feel light-headed and more courageous than he'd ever been around her. On an impulse, he grabbed her face with both hands. "You are very kind to me. Everyone else, they've left me, abandoned me. My parents, Isabella, even Lambert. I don't even know where he's gone off to! But you, you're always here, aren't you?"
Anne gave him a strange look, but before she could react, he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her soundly. She resisted at first, but after a moment or two, she kissed him back, her lips soft and pliant against his. It was the most extraordinary thing Guy had ever experienced, and he pulled her closer, pressing his hands into the small of her back. He began to relax, giving himself over to all these new sensations, but abruptly, the kiss stopped as Anne pulled away and shoved him off.
She held a hand to her mouth, staring at him in shock, but after a moment or two, she shook her head. "No, this is wrong. You're drunk." She walked over to the door and threw it open. "Get out."
"But, Anne…" Guy wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anything-"
"I know. But for now, you just need to go."
--
The trek back to the abbey was difficult, although it did help to sober him up somewhat. The crisp autumn air dispelled some of the fog in his mind, but it did nothing to relieve the heaviness in his heart. Isabella was gone, bartered away in a transaction he wanted no part of, and yet, had been almost entirely for his sake. He wished he had fought for her, disagreed with the abbot, even gone against him, but in the end, the abbot's words had made more sense than anything else. Marrying a man of wealth and substance was ultimately a good thing, and though Isabella was not happy, she would be, over time. More than that, she'd be well cared for, and not want for anything in the world. What more could a brother possibly want for his sister? He would go to her wedding and put her hand in Thornton's, and that would be the end.
In truth, he was far more worried about Lambert. Guy had not seen him since the day they'd rowed about John of Salisbury, and about Isabella. He'd thought his friend had just gone off somewhere, to be alone and think. Lambert was a wanderer, and he liked to walk in the woods behind the abbey, just thinking. He always came back though, granted with mud caked on his boots and brambles in his hair, but he always came back. This time, there had been no sign of Lambert for two nights, and Guy was genuinely worried.
By the time he gained the steps of the abbey church, Guy's head was clear, but he knew he must look a sight. He decided to forego the church and just return to his rooms, dunking his head in the watering trough outside the kitchens first. When he lifted up his head, water streaming off his hair, he found Brother Rupert watching him and looking severely displeased.
"Where have you been?"
Guy shrugged. "Away."
"We've been worried."
"Sorry."
The direct approach seemed to work on Rupert, and mollified, the man led Guy into the kitchens. He turned his nose up a little. "You've been at an alehouse, haven't you? It'll take more than a dip in the trough to set you straight." He motioned for Guy to sit as he pottered about the cupboards, looking for herbs, but Guy found the monk's cheer did not fit well with his own mood.
"Isn't anyone worried?"
Rupert gave him a blank look. "About what?"
Guy hissed in exasperation. "About Lambert! He's been gone for days."
"Ah." Rupert nodded. "Yes, about Lambert. I thought you'd want to know. He's…er, gone."
"Gone? How?" Guy felt a sudden stab of pain somewhere near his chest. "You don't mean…he's not dead, is he?"
"Oh goodness, no!" Rupert crossed himself hastily. "He left the abbey. Been about three days now."
"He…he left?" Guy quailed. How was it possible that Lambert could just leave this place, without so much as a word to him? It was a cruel thing to do, no matter what had driven him to it. Guy was his friend, and he'd deserved at least an explanation.
Guy despaired and covered his face with his hands. "How could he just be gone? I didn't even get to see him before-"
Rupert cleared his throat. "Er, he did leave me with this." He dropped a tattered square of parchment on the table in front of Guy. "To give to you. He said you'd understand."
Guy stopped listening to Rupert and fixed all his energies on the parchment. His hand shook as he unfolded it, this last word from Lambert, written in his usual cramped hand.
My dear Guy,
You spurred me to make a decision, and so I have. It turns out I was right all along. When faced with a thing you cannot fight off, it's best to duck and run away. I do not know where Fate will take me, but I do not set much store by Fate anyway. I wish you well in all things, whether you choose to be a scholar of men or a soldier of God.
Ever your friend,
Lambert
So that was it then. Gone, they were all gone. His parents, his sister, and now even the one man who he'd called friend. He cried out and ripped the note to shreds, not caring that there were now others in the kitchen watching him. He tore out of the door and ran, running as far as he could, as long as he could, until his lungs burned from the exertion, and he collapsed on the meadow, welcoming the black oblivion that raced out to meet him.
--
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Author: roh_wyn
Summary: Guy and Isabella leave Locksley and arrive in France to make a new life for themselves. A pre-series exploration of these two characters and how they become the people we see on the show.
Characters/Pairings: Guy of Gisborne, Isabella, Lambert (of black powder fame), OCs.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 3x10, "Bad Blood"; possible (but inadvertent) fudging of canon timeline
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to Tiger Aspect, BBC and legend. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended, and no money is being made.
Notes: Many thanks to applebeing for her excellent beta work. Any errors that remain are mine entirely. Thanks to shinysparks for her amazing artistic contribution. Thanks also to kegel84 who kept me company online as I wrote this story, and to railise and thymelady for helping me with the title.
Artwork by shinysparks
Chapter 9. Gates of Hell
Mid-September 1177
Guy shuffled slowly along the dirt path from the church back to his rooms, his mind awhirl with the events of the past few days. There had been no new revelations, either from Lambert or Isabella, and although many at the abbey had congratulated him on hearing of his new appointment with John of Salisbury at Chartres, Guy himself was no more certain of it than he'd been when he had first heard the news. Mostly, he was worried that Lambert's words would come true and he would prove to be an unworthy scholar.
The truth was that the deeper exploration of science, philosophy and law simply did not interest him. He liked hearing about the kings of old, how they'd vanquished their enemies and forged new alliances. The day's lessons-on Aristotle, whose philosophies he did not particularly care for-had been going well, until Lambert, more fractious and sullen than usual, had picked a fight with the lessons master. It was an argument over a point that none of the other students either understood or cared about, and Lambert had been properly scolded for his impertinence and sent away, leaving Guy to himself for the rest of the day.
Briefly, he'd considered going into town on the pretext of seeing the horse trader, but really to see Anne. In the past few weeks, since he'd learned her true predicament, he'd developed a new fondness for her he had not quite expected. He'd realized she was more than just a pretty woman with a clever mind. She was someone who needed him, to help her, maybe even protect her, but he did not think Anne could relate to his current problems with Lambert, or even his future plans, so he decided against it, preferring to keep to himself.
The solitude was welcome in its way, giving him some much-needed peace and quiet, a chance to think, but no matter how much he applied himself to the problem, no solution presented itself. He still had no idea how to set things right for Isabella so that she could rely on Lambert and yet not have to suffer any consequences. Leaving a monastery was no trivial matter. To abandon God and the men who had traveled the path with you, to disregard all the sacrifices the abbey had made in feeding and clothing you was nothing short of betrayal, and for all his talk of brave reason, Lambert knew enough about society not to chance such a thing.
Still, it was not as if novices never left the monastic orders. It happened a few times every year, and more often than not, the reason was not a woman but some circumstance beyond the man's control. Last year, two novices had left when their fathers had died and they'd had to return home to care for their families. The church was not so cruel or removed from everyday life that it did not understand the compulsions of ordinary men. Still, it was one thing to have to leave because Fate had decreed it, and quite another to leave because of love.
Perhaps his uncle would have an answer. This thought reassured Guy, and he picked up his pace as he doubled back on the path and headed to the abbot's chambers, kicking himself for not thinking of this sooner. Halfway up the stairs to his destination, hesitation began. His uncle was a busy man and did not always have time to spare for the whims and fancies of his wards. It would be better to let him know Guy needed an audience and let the abbot call him in when he wished.
He turned back around and raced down the stairs, heading to the abbey's library. He'd write the abbot a formal request for an interview and then bring up the matter in a private setting. He was so preoccupied by his plan that Guy did not see the abbot turning the corner as he bounded down the stairs. They crashed into each other, and the impact sent Guy sprawling.
The abbot recovered quickly, then helped Guy back to his feet. "In a bit of a hurry, lad?"
"So sorry, my lord abbot. I should watch where I'm going."
The abbot dismissed the apology with a wave and a cluck of his tongue. "It's good that I ran into you-or you into me, rather."
Guy smiled, pleased that chance had so neatly moved the world around for him. "I had something I wanted to speak with you about as well."
"Walk with me to the cloisters, and we'll discuss your matter then."
They walked in silence for a few moments, Guy taking the opportunity to study the abbot at close range. There were a few more wrinkles around the eyes and a few more silver hairs than had been there when Guy had first arrived in Caën, but the abbot was, for the most part, unchanged. If worry niggled at him, if the burden of being responsible for so many others troubled him, it did not show on his face. Guy hoped he would be able to show the same impassivity one day.
"So what was it you wanted to speak to me about, Guy?"
"About Isabella, actually." He hesitated a little, before adding, "About her future."
"Ah, you've heard then? I was wondering if she'd have told you already."
"My lord?"
"Yes, I should be congratulating you, shouldn't I? Thanks to Isabella's marriage, you'll have a new brother soon."
Guy's resolve faltered. Did the abbot already know about Isabella and Lambert? Had things gone as far as marriage without his knowledge?
The abbot seemed to note his confusion and shook his head. "I see you have not heard the news then. Well, it's just as well, for I'm telling you. Isabella is to be married. To Thornton of Shrewsbury."
Guy stopped short, not caring that Martin had walked on without him. "What?"
"Did you not hear what I said?" Martin added with too much feigned innocence.
"When did all this happen? Who is…this Thornton of Surrey?"
"Shrewsbury. He's a wealthy landowner and a titled noble. A good match for your sister, wouldn't you say?"
Guy let the words sink in, feeling a knot of despair in the pit of his stomach that grew tighter with every breath. "Why didn't you tell me? You didn't even ask me!"
"I didn't realize I needed your permission, Guy."
He choked out the only words that came to him. "Did you even ask her? If this was what she wanted?"
Martin looked shocked. "Of course I asked her. I told you once before, I'm not cruel." He laughed mirthlessly. "At least not intentionally."
"And did she agree?"
Martin hesitated, but when he answered, his eyes were steady and his tone betrayed no doubt. "She is a clever girl, one who understands the world, and her duty in it. Of course she agreed. I would not have gone forward otherwise."
Guy sighed. "And what is to become of her now?"
"Nothing is to become of her. This is a happy circumstance, Guy, not a tragedy. She will be married at the Holy Trinity on Michaelmas, and when the lady abbess deems her ready, she will be sent to her husband in England."
"And in the meantime?"
Martin arched an eyebrow at him. "And in the meantime, Thornton will help his new brother with his chosen life. He will help defray the costs of your studies and-"
Guy did not let him finish. "She's my sister. She's my responsibility! And you just gave her to this man…you sold her!"
Martin wheeled around and grabbed Guy's shoulder. "I did no such thing. I am her guardian-and I might remind you, yours as well. Whatever else I may do, I always act in your best interest."
He let Guy go and shook his head, his expression changing from anger to sadness. "You and Isabella are the closest thing I will ever have to my own children. I would not wrong you - you must believe me.
"I only want you both to do well, and though it is not a perfect arrangement, a good marriage is the only way Isabella can do well in this world."
Martin sighed. "There are sacrifices to be made in every life, Guy. To be a great man, you may have to sacrifice other, more ordinary dreams. This is Isabella's sacrifice. She does it for you. Don't belittle her choice."
Guy said nothing, surprised by this sudden display of sentiment from Martin. He felt a great wave of sadness overcome him, for the man who would marry his sister, for the man who should have married her, and even for Martin. But mostly, his grief was for Isabella, for the happy girl she'd once been, for the lonely orphan she was now, and for the grown woman she'd soon be forced to become.
--
Night had fallen, and it was well past the hour when strange men were admitted to the Holy Trinity or to the abbey within, but Lambert knocked on the heavy church door, knowing that even a house of nuns could not turn away a supplicant, no matter how late the hour. That he was not an actual supplicant was, in his mind, unimportant.
After several minutes of frantic knocking, the door creaked, and a stern-looking woman opened the door. Lambert was reminded sharply of the day he had first arrived at St. Stephen's. The world had been a different place then, and now, he had to act to keep it from being turned on its head.
The nun clucked her tongue as she pulled him into the church. "Do you have no sense, lad? You'll catch your death in the rain like that!"
That was not the reaction Lambert had expected, and for just a moment, he was dumbstruck and goggled at the woman. She took the opportunity to scold him again. "Probably hungry, too. Off to the kitchens with you then!" She dragged him behind her by the elbow, and this time, he noted the hint of sympathy and concern in her voice, and he let himself be coaxed into the abbey without speaking his mind.
In the abbey's kitchen, warmed by the fire and a bowl of hot broth, Lambert recovered his initial determination. "I'm here to see someone," he said, to nobody in particular.
The kitchen maid sniggered. "That's what they usually say, when they come here. It's why they bring you here, instead of just letting you shout and wail outside. I'm sure someone will be along to set you straight soon."
Lambert considered a retort, then decided to save his energies. If the maid was right, it would be a task just to see Isabella, much less convince her to go along with his own plans. He set his mind to persuading her, his thoughts running far and wide, before he was called back to reality by the sound of a gentle cough.
"So, to what do we owe the honor?"
From her attire, and the way the kitchen maid curtsied low and then scurried away, he guessed this was the lady abbess herself. He bowed low and waited a moment before speaking, as politeness required.
"My lady abbess. I'm called Lambert. I'm here to see my…er, Isabella of Gisborne."
"Ah," she said, only a hint of mockery in her voice. "And would it not have been better to come during the day, when it is more seemly?"
He nodded, schooling himself to polite calmness. "Yes. But it was a matter of some urgency."
"Life and death, I'm sure." This time, her mocking tone was quite clear to Lambert, and not knowing how to react, he decided just to remain silent.
The abbess sighed. "Very well. My inclination is to refuse you, but I have a sense you will not go quietly, and I do not wish for a scene. I will have Isabella sent down, on one condition.
"When you are done speaking with her, you will leave this place in peace and not return to disturb us again."
Lambert hesitated, not liking that he was unwelcome or that the abbess had the power to keep him from seeing Isabella, but he understood that argument and hostility would not get him anywhere, so he courteously agreed.
The abbess nodded curtly in his direction and left him alone with his thoughts. Now that he was here, he was forced to consider what he would do if Isabella did agree with him. Lambert's plan had only been to convince her to leave the abbey and run away somewhere with him. He knew it was what she wanted, and it had taken only a bit of pressure from Guy's words for Lambert to realize it as well. But, unusually for him, he had not considered the other facets of the problem. Neither Lambert nor Isabella had any money, and it was not as if Guy did either. More than that, neither had any skills they could trade on, Isabella's brief encounter with weaving notwithstanding. It would be years before he would have either the money or the influence to help make a good life for them.
Maybe Anne, the horse trader's sister, could help them. At first, he dismissed the idea. Although Anne had some money and a roof over her head, she was not a woman of means, and there was her brother to contend with besides. Still, she was Guy's friend - perhaps more than a friend, he conceded - and it was possible she'd give, or at least lend, Guy a small sum of money. If Guy were to give that to his sister, they could start a new life in another town or village. Lambert knew it was impossible for him to stay at the abbey and pursue the path set out for him, and the same would be true for Guy, once the abbot discovered he'd thwarted Isabella's marriage.
He kept his eyes trained on the door while he tried to work out the problem, and his concentration was rewarded when it opened to admit Isabella. To his wonder, she looked neither worried nor particularly surprised. If she was troubled by recent events, she was certainly putting a bright face on it.
"Bella!" He reached out to take her hand, but she held herself stiffly and did not return the gesture in full measure. He frowned at her and raised an eyebrow, a silent question, but she did not reply in the same vein.
"It's good to see you."
She gave him a bright smile. "You've heard the news then. I'm to be married. You should see the dress the abbess has-"
Lambert grabbed her elbow and pulled her close, whispering in her ear. "Listen, you don't have to go through with it. I'll figure out some way to get you out of here. We can-"
She pulled out of his grasp. "Stop it! What do you think you're doing?"
"I thought that we were…" He struggled to find the right words in light of her reaction. Had he misunderstood everything? Had she? No, that wasn't possible. Was it?
"You've said, so many times that-"
Isabella's eyes slid away from his, but only for a moment. "What have I said? What have I really said?"
"I…I don't know. I thought we were…close, I suppose."
"Oh, Lambert." She sighed, and in her eyes, he could see great pity. "For all your cleverness, you really are a fool, aren't you?"
"What?"
"I don't know what you thought, but you have it all wrong." She glared at him. "And it's one thing for others to think there was something between us, but you? You should know better!"
"Isabella, you are-"
"Think about it. Why would I want to be with you, Lambert? What can you give me? What can you give Guy?"
Lambert bristled and moved to defend himself, even if reason suggested he did not need to. "I'm clever in my way. I might become a great scholar one day. I could take care of you, and-"
"One day? How long am I to wait? Am I supposed to starve and live on the street?"
He gaped at her. In all the time he'd known her, he'd never once seen Isabella speak of money or position in this way, and this new knowledge left him floundering and searching for words. "But, Bella…you can't just…I mean, will you just marry this Thornton then? You don't know anything about him!"
"I know the important things about him. I know he's never been married before, so he will cherish me. I know he has land and title, so I will be a lady, as I was born to be.
"More than that, I know he has money and lands. He'll keep me the way I deserve to be kept.
He'll help my brother-"
"Your brother? What does Guy have to do with all this?"
She laughed haughtily. "Nothing a woman does in this world is just for herself, Lambert.
"What can you do for me? For Guy?" She spat the words at him, and he could no longer see any pity in her expression. "What are you, in the end, but the poor son of a common tradesman?"
As she spoke, the tiny ember of angry disbelief in his heart began to grow, fanning itself into a roaring blaze. He bellowed at her. "Stop it. You're lying to me. You've never said these kinds of things before. I think you're under some sort of influence, and you've forgotten who you really are, or-"
"I am Isabella of Gisborne. I swore to restore the pride of my family and to help Guy do the same. I know my duty, and you should know yours." There was an edge to her voice, and her words cut through the air, as startling as the crack of a whip.
Lambert was appalled. He watched her in shock, but she said nothing more, her face settling into an impassive and calm expression. He could read nothing in her eyes, and the realization she was lost to him settled into the pit of his stomach.
He took a few deep breaths, and then regarding her calmly, he spoke. "So you've decided then. For both of us. Very well, so be it."
Lambert did not wait for her reaction, and as the wooden door shut behind him with a heavy thud, he sank to his knees and wept.
--
A day later
Guy left the abbey in the middle of the night. He could not sleep for all the thoughts and worries on his mind, most of them for Isabella and Lambert, and he'd considered that a walk would help clear his head. It was nearly dawn by the time he finished the first few passes of the church's close, but he'd had a sudden urge to keep walking, to be cleansed by the arrival of a new day, so he had ventured beyond the close and into town.
The day itself seemed to be mocking him. It was bright and cheerful, an exact contrast to his mood. He was exhausted now and wanted nothing more than to curl up into his mattress and sleep until it was dark again, so the sun could no longer scorn him. Yet he could not return to his rooms at the abbey without having to answer all sorts of questions, especially from Lambert. So he walked on past the town's houses and the castle, tired and aimless, until he found himself in the middle of town, on the doorstep of a tavern.
Perfect. Guy was pleased to find a place where everything was dark and everyone was indifferent, and he sat down heavily on one of the wooden benches. Before he could think better of it, a tankard of ale had been set before him, and he drank, the dark bitter liquid a balm for his tired mind. He felt its warmth at the back of his throat and through his limbs. It made the aches in his heart and in his mind disappear, and before anyone could stop him, he downed the entire thing. He wiped his mouth roughly on his tunic and made a loud demand for another, then another, and another still. Being drunk and dissolute was perhaps no way for a monk to live, but it had its clear advantages.
After he'd been through several pints, however-he'd lost count after the fifth-Guy began to understand why drunks were so rarely successful. He could not quite feel his legs, and the ale sloshing around in his stomach was far too reminiscent of the boat trip from England. He tried to stand, pushing himself away from the bench, but he lost his footing and staggered back, bumping into one of the other patrons and upending his ale.
The man whose drink he'd upset was large and not nearly as drunk as Guy. Even in his dulled state, Guy understood that he'd be no match for this man in a fight. He put up his palms. "Listen, friend, I'm-"
The other man brought up his fist and seemed ready to propel it into Guy's face, when Guy felt a pair of arms pull him back and drag him outside. He was dropped on the ground and he tried to get up, just as a bucket of cold water splashed into his face. He gasped for air and scrubbed at his face to get the water out of his eyes.
"Feeling better now?" It was Anne.
She grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him gently. "What are you doing anyhow? Drinking? Fighting?"
He shook his head, but found this did not help his current state. "I wasn't doing either of those things. I mean, I was drinking, but I wasn't fighting. It was all an accident."
Guy tried to put things in the right light. "I was upset, you know. Over everything that's happened. With Isabella getting married. And Lambert, I can't find him anywhere, and I was just so…" His voice trailed off, and he felt a rush of emotion, a desperate need to cry. The feeling horrified him, and he hung his head in shame and confusion.
She seemed to understand, and instead of scolding him again, she held out her hand. "Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" She pulled him by the hand. "C'mon. I can't drag you there. You'll have to do some of the work."
By the time they got to Anne's cottage, the fresh air had helped clear Guy's head a little. He could at least see straight and remember how he'd come to be in the tavern in the first place. Anne's reproach, however, was harder to swallow, and he tried not to look straight into her eyes as she watched him.
"I never paid for all the ale I had," he said morosely.
"I know, but don't worry - you can pay me later."
He smiled sheepishly. "I don't have any money."
She laughed and reached over to wipe his head with the rag she was holding. His drunken state and her nearness conspired to make Guy feel light-headed and more courageous than he'd ever been around her. On an impulse, he grabbed her face with both hands. "You are very kind to me. Everyone else, they've left me, abandoned me. My parents, Isabella, even Lambert. I don't even know where he's gone off to! But you, you're always here, aren't you?"
Anne gave him a strange look, but before she could react, he pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her soundly. She resisted at first, but after a moment or two, she kissed him back, her lips soft and pliant against his. It was the most extraordinary thing Guy had ever experienced, and he pulled her closer, pressing his hands into the small of her back. He began to relax, giving himself over to all these new sensations, but abruptly, the kiss stopped as Anne pulled away and shoved him off.
She held a hand to her mouth, staring at him in shock, but after a moment or two, she shook her head. "No, this is wrong. You're drunk." She walked over to the door and threw it open. "Get out."
"But, Anne…" Guy wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for anything-"
"I know. But for now, you just need to go."
--
The trek back to the abbey was difficult, although it did help to sober him up somewhat. The crisp autumn air dispelled some of the fog in his mind, but it did nothing to relieve the heaviness in his heart. Isabella was gone, bartered away in a transaction he wanted no part of, and yet, had been almost entirely for his sake. He wished he had fought for her, disagreed with the abbot, even gone against him, but in the end, the abbot's words had made more sense than anything else. Marrying a man of wealth and substance was ultimately a good thing, and though Isabella was not happy, she would be, over time. More than that, she'd be well cared for, and not want for anything in the world. What more could a brother possibly want for his sister? He would go to her wedding and put her hand in Thornton's, and that would be the end.
In truth, he was far more worried about Lambert. Guy had not seen him since the day they'd rowed about John of Salisbury, and about Isabella. He'd thought his friend had just gone off somewhere, to be alone and think. Lambert was a wanderer, and he liked to walk in the woods behind the abbey, just thinking. He always came back though, granted with mud caked on his boots and brambles in his hair, but he always came back. This time, there had been no sign of Lambert for two nights, and Guy was genuinely worried.
By the time he gained the steps of the abbey church, Guy's head was clear, but he knew he must look a sight. He decided to forego the church and just return to his rooms, dunking his head in the watering trough outside the kitchens first. When he lifted up his head, water streaming off his hair, he found Brother Rupert watching him and looking severely displeased.
"Where have you been?"
Guy shrugged. "Away."
"We've been worried."
"Sorry."
The direct approach seemed to work on Rupert, and mollified, the man led Guy into the kitchens. He turned his nose up a little. "You've been at an alehouse, haven't you? It'll take more than a dip in the trough to set you straight." He motioned for Guy to sit as he pottered about the cupboards, looking for herbs, but Guy found the monk's cheer did not fit well with his own mood.
"Isn't anyone worried?"
Rupert gave him a blank look. "About what?"
Guy hissed in exasperation. "About Lambert! He's been gone for days."
"Ah." Rupert nodded. "Yes, about Lambert. I thought you'd want to know. He's…er, gone."
"Gone? How?" Guy felt a sudden stab of pain somewhere near his chest. "You don't mean…he's not dead, is he?"
"Oh goodness, no!" Rupert crossed himself hastily. "He left the abbey. Been about three days now."
"He…he left?" Guy quailed. How was it possible that Lambert could just leave this place, without so much as a word to him? It was a cruel thing to do, no matter what had driven him to it. Guy was his friend, and he'd deserved at least an explanation.
Guy despaired and covered his face with his hands. "How could he just be gone? I didn't even get to see him before-"
Rupert cleared his throat. "Er, he did leave me with this." He dropped a tattered square of parchment on the table in front of Guy. "To give to you. He said you'd understand."
Guy stopped listening to Rupert and fixed all his energies on the parchment. His hand shook as he unfolded it, this last word from Lambert, written in his usual cramped hand.
My dear Guy,
You spurred me to make a decision, and so I have. It turns out I was right all along. When faced with a thing you cannot fight off, it's best to duck and run away. I do not know where Fate will take me, but I do not set much store by Fate anyway. I wish you well in all things, whether you choose to be a scholar of men or a soldier of God.
Ever your friend,
Lambert
So that was it then. Gone, they were all gone. His parents, his sister, and now even the one man who he'd called friend. He cried out and ripped the note to shreds, not caring that there were now others in the kitchen watching him. He tore out of the door and ran, running as far as he could, as long as he could, until his lungs burned from the exertion, and he collapsed on the meadow, welcoming the black oblivion that raced out to meet him.
--
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