An old Acquaintance (Guy)

[Imogen Frewer]

It was late after noon and most of the towns merchants had almost finished packing away there stalls. Wagons and stall used to be packed away and shipped out just after 1 but with the need for more money they stayed open later hopping to attract more business. It was an over cast day with the clouds threatening to spill there lode any second but so far the day had been dry. Imogen who had the luck of working at one of the only thriving businesses in town was stood out side The Jerusalem Inn hitting the dust out of an old carpet.

It was the time of day when the Inn quieted down, the guests had ventured out in to Nottingham and the drinkers had not yet arrived so it was the only chance Imogen got any thinking time. Thinking time was not Jenny’s favourite time of the day, during thinking time she experienced the wired and wonderful feeling of guilt a feeling she would much rather avoid. Last year she had been approached by Gisborne handed a small sack of coins and told her to keep her mouth shut and do as she was told. Imogen glad of some extra cash she could spend on new dress material willingly agreed but those days where over. She was back to looking mediocre, dressed is worn fabrics and little to no jewels.

“Alright Jenny” An old man said tipping an imaginary hat as he passed by her, ”Need to go see the old wife then ill be in for a drink”.

Imogen smiled and gave him a small nod back. The passer by had been Fred a local and one of the heavier drinkers, easy to squeeze money out of.

“I’ll have a pint of the finest waiting for ya’ ” she said before returning to the carpet beating.

Imogen had to admit that she missed the old days not just for the money but for the attention. Two fine looking men coming in every other day Imogen had felt quite good about her self and would nearly forget the dreadful deed that was going on in front of her eyes. That of course had all gone now and she was back to being plain old Jenny the Inn bar maid.

[Sir Guy of Gisborne.]

The cloaked stranger was a newcomer to the bar. The thick leather hobnailed boots that he wore scraped the ground with every step that he took, clicking against the wooden planks that were nailed together as the floor of the tavern. A faint glance from underneath the darkness which surrounded his face was just enough to see around the tavern. There were few people there. That was good.

He saw her, standing at the bar, and moved towards her, as though he was just another man hoping to take a drink, even this early in the evening. Of course, the man was Gisborne, although keeping his identity secret was the most important thing of this impromptu meeting with a woman whom he had been so... Close to, previously...

Gisborne looked her up and down, taking in the faintly old dress, with few bright colours and patterns on it. A faint smirk crossed his lips, knowingly - She used to dress better when he was paying her. And a visit to this tavern meant that he wanted something from her, even though his identity was disguised at the moment.

[Imogen Frewer]

Imogen left the carpet air out draped over the fence that guests horses where usually tethered to. Stepping out of the cool afternoon air she stepped in to the closing the large think wooden door behind her which made a large clunk as it shut. The bar was dimly lit even in the after noon with candles on every second table and low hanging laps dotted around the room.

“Jenny clean up them mugs will ya’” Said the old inn keepers wife as she hobbled up the first few steps the led to the first landing. “Give em’ a good old polish up ready for tonight.”

“Right Meg” Imogen said indifferently making her way to the bar where a long line of mugs and goblets had been set out ready for cleaning up. Imogen sighed at the site never having enjoyed the task of leaning mug after mug after mug, so tedious. She had been polishing up mugs for reuse for let than 5 minuets before a clocked man entered the Inn his hood up concealing his face. Some people might have found this suspicions and quite unnerving but The trip to Jerusalem attracted a whole collection of strange wanderers and low life of Nottingham so Imogen barely batted an eyelid.

“Pint of ale for you sir?” Imogen said still rubbing a mug with the bottom of her cram apron.

[Sir Guy of Gisborne.]

"Your best."

Gisborne spoke quietly, so as to attempt to disguise his voice from the woman - Who would clearly know him if she heard and recognised him, although many people would. Of course, Gisborne was well known throughout most of England, and especially through Nottingham, where a large percentage of even the local villagers and peasants would desire to see him dead, for everything that he had done, on behalf of the Sheriff. Vasey did not wish to dirty his hands in such matters, leaving his right hand man - Guy - To collect taxes, and take care of those who he wanted out of the way...

"Quickly."

He added briefly, shoving a hand deep into one of the pockets of his leather trousers, withdrawing a couple of silver coins to pay for his purchase.

[Imogen Frewer]

Imogen nodded eyeing the stranger of a second before turning to pull him a pint of there best October ale. Even though the Inn attracted more then its fair share of Nottingham low life the young bar maid was still very careful and kept here eye out for trouble at all times. The Inn was the place of bar fights and brawls, gambling and drinking and new alliances and betrayals. Imogen had thought she had seen it all but the Inn and its guests always found ways of surprising her.

“Mind and don’t drinks that to fast now I only just got this placed cleaned up after last night,” She said sliding the pint across the counter to him.

"Quickly."

Imogen frowned for a second before dismissing the word and continued where she left off in the cleaning, humming quietly as she went. Her voice was not the best voice in the word for singing but it did have a lot of character to it making her enjoyable to listen to. Imogen who’s confidence grew each day that passed in the Inn even sang in the bar some times with some of the locales on primitive instruments.

“Anything else I can get ya’” she said with out looking up from the wooden mug in her hand.

[Sir Guy of Gisborne.]

"There is something."

Gisborne's hand reached out from underneath the long, dark folds of his cloak to grasp the wooden tankard of ale in his hand. Long, strong fingers wrapped around the tankard, slowly raising it to his lips to take a long drink. It had been a while since Gisborne had tasted ale such as this. He drank wine at the castle.

"One thing... Information."

His voice was rasping and cold, the Northern-accented tones clear in each word he spoke, no matter how careful he was to try and hide the distinctive accent. His voice was still as smug and cold as it ever had been.

[Imogen Frewer]

Imogen lowered the cup in her hand and placed it on the table carefully, there was an odd feeling funning through her body, not fear but something similar. There was also something strangely familiar about the strangers voice she couldn’t quite place it possibly an old tenant? Who ever he was he was trouble Imogen was sure of that but whether it was her that was in trouble or some one else she couldn’t be sure.

"One thing... Information."

“Information” she repeated his words slowly”And what information would that be?”

So he was definitely trouble, information was a troubling word when ever she heard it there was trouble. What could she know that the stranger would want? All the business with Guy and Allen was dead and buried surely it couldn’t have to do with that. Now look at yourself jenny, Imogen thought sternly to her self, getting all hot and bother over nothing he most likely just wants directions.

[Sir Guy of Gisborne.]

Slowly, Gisborne looked up, taking his eyes off of the tankard before him. His eyes were dark, although the only things that could be seen underneath the dark, obscuring hood which he wore. He would not show himself entirely until he was sure that the two were alone.

"It is... Delicate. Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately...?"

His words were almost a demand, though he did not intend them to be anything other than strong.

[Imogen Frewer]

The hair on the back of jenny’s neck stood on end as the man spoke. Had she forgot to pay those money lenders back? 8 months ago the Inn owner had fallen in to debt and the only way out was to borrow money. Simon was a mess at the time and Imogen who didn’t want to have to go searching for another job took matters in to her own hands. No she was sure she had paid them every penny back including inertest this had to be something else.

“There is a small room round back follow me,” she said dropping her voice and straightening out her dress with her hands. She stepped out from around the bar and gestured for the stranger to follow. To the side of the bar was an unnoticeable door that if not showed you would completely over look it. Jenny turned the dark handle and stepped in.

“Now what is this about? I don’t want no trouble and I don’t know nothing”.

[Sir Guy of Gisborne.]

Gisborne stepped through the door, clicking it shut behind them both. He paused for a moment, scanning her features, and never letting any emotion show in his dull, dark eyes, and smirking faintly at her words.

A second later, he reached to his hood, dropping it down, onto his shoulders. Lank, greasy hair fell in locks over his eyes, his left cheek scared with a long cut, which could only have been made with a dagger. Hood's dagger. It was a scar that would not leave him for some time, although he never desired it to. It was there to remind him of his hatred for his enemy, and to ensure that Gisborne never went soft, and never - Ever - Forgave him for what he had done. He looked different to how her had done before, more unkept, as though he had no time to take care of himself, and his being.

"I'm sure you know something, little Jenny..."

The words were softly smirked, reaching up to brush one thumb down the side of her cheek. His fingers were dark and encrusted with mud underneath his short nails, bitten down to the quick.

"You always knew something..."

[Imogen Frewer]

It took a moment for Imogen to recognize the man in front of her. Gisborne in his deteriated state was not what she had expected to find under the thick hood and she had to suppress the urge to pull the hood back over his face. What had happened to him? Imogen had heard rumours of some incidence in the Holy land but had dismissed it as just drunken chatter. Perhaps all the gossip was true and he really did stab Lady Marian.

"I'm sure you know something, little Jenny..."

“Sir Guy” she exclaimed unable to keep the shock out of her voice “Im not sure I do, what should I know?”

Imogen’s jaw clenched as his unwashed fingers brushed her cheek, she had to hold her tongue. Over that last few weeks there had been talk backed up by the deaths of innocent villagers that Gisborne had turned a corner when it came to punishing those who spoke against him.

"Really I know nothing, I've heard nothing. So thats that no information...".

[Sir Guy of Gisborne.]

He knew how far the news of what had happened in the Holy Land had spread, and many of the villagers were entirely aware of what had happened. There were those who dismissed it as nothing more than a story, but still, lots of them believed it. And believed what Gisborne had now turned into. He was nothing, a mere shadow of the man whom he had been once, and could never regain the strong persona that he once held, without loving Marian even more strongly than before, and being loved in return. She had to share his feelings for him to drag himself out of the rut that he had been thrown headlong into, with a simple slash of his sword, and a heated moment of passion...

"Of course you know something... I want one simple answer, Jenny. Then I'll leave, and never come back to find you, never again. One answer, that's all I require."

He knew that he was scared of her, from the way that she instantly silenced herself at the touch of his skin against hers, and who he had become. He cut an imposing, daunting figure in the half-darkness.

"Where is Hood...?"

[Imogen Frewer]

This was not at all like there old meetings, though guy had never a particularly sociable or chatty man he was never cruel in there meetings not like this. Imogen who was not a particularly timid creature had to admit she was scared of him scared of what he was now capable of. He seemed on the edge ready to snap any second and if jenny didn’t watch what she said it could be her life next.

"Where is Hood...?"

Imogen placed her hands on her hips and brought her self up to full height to make up for the nerves expression on her face. Where was hood? How was she supposed to know? Yes she heard a lot of gossip and rumours that floated around the Inn but most of that was just rumours and gossip with very little truth attached to them.

“Can’t say I know Sir,” she said with an innocent smile, turning on the charm” Don’t get his lot around here no more. Not seen em’ in what…over a year now.”

Liar, Jenny though to her self, the outlaws passed in and out of the in every so often and Imogen turned a blind eye to it. Why was she lying now she wasn’t gaining anything from it?

“Now if that all would you like another ale?”

[Sir Guy of Gisborne.]

Gisborne was no longer merely interested in information to gain the location of the camp, and the death of any of Hood's men. He wanted Robin dead, and nothing else any longer. His eyes were dark and cold, watching her and every move that she made, flickering from place to place, and hardly staying on one spot long enough. He was twitchy and not as calm as he had been on previous meetings. He could snap any second...

"Liar..."

Gisborne snarled coldly, taking a step forwards and pressing her closer to the wall, his eyes, filled with the madness that now encompassed him, looking as straight into hers as he could.

"I will ask you once more, before I start getting violent: Where is the outlaw?"

[Imogen Frewer]

Jenny’s eyes widened with fear she had never seen guy like this. She shrank back at the cold touch and shook her head vigorously sending her golden waves flying about her face. It looked like charm wasn’t going to work here.

"Liar..."

“No, I know nothing” Imogen protested holding her hands in front of her in protest”No need for valance alright?”

If she told him the outlaws passed through the Inn on occasion then his lot would be pocking around to and that wasn’t good for business. Having guards posted at the doors or skulking about inside would look bad and travellers would most likely look else where for a bed for the night.

"I will ask you once more, before I start getting violent: Where is the outlaw?"

Jenny turned white with panic as he pushed her against the wall, she could fell the cold wood through the back of her hair.

“Please,” she pleaded not looking in to his eyes”I don’t know where he is, Honest”.