Another start (Isabella, Gisborne, Roe, Morgan)

[Isabella]

Isabella couldn’t help but smile internally at Fitzroy’s comment to Roe – that neither of them were what they seemed. He could not know that he was the outlaw’s spy, but he had unwittingly hit the nail on the head. She agreed with Roe’s reply, that men had learned to be other people out of necessities. It reminded her that he hadn’t wanted to kill those men back in the Holy Lands, and she felt a sudden wish that she could speak to him. But she had to give Fitzroy a tour of the castle, so that was impossible now.
The two men went on to a more friendly conversation about Fitzroy’s farm, but Isabella could tell that Fitzroy was trying to depart Roe’s company as quickly and politely as he could. She felt his fingers close tightly round hers as he bade farewell to Roe and began to lead her towards the garden for that picnic. She gave Roe a quick smile before following Fitzroy. Although she walked with him willingly, she wondered exactly what he had in mind. After all, when she first met him, he’d been helping himself to Lady Gosford’s meal, feet on the table, and all. Since then he’d been on his best behaviour, and she was starting to like him, but she could not be sure what he was really like.
She had to carry on the conversation, though she did not want to talk about Roe, and Fitzroy's thoughts on him. Though she could keep her tongue in check, she did not want to bring him any unwanted attention - he was Robin's spy and her friend, well, 'friend' wasn't quite the word.
“I must confess, it’s been a long time since I last had a picnic, impromptu or otherwise,” she admitted, adding, “Though not out of lack of wanting one.”
They headed outside into the sunshine of the castle gardens. The scent of pungent herbs carried on a light breeze, and the rowdy calls of birds surrounded them.

[Morgan]

Having dismissed Roe from his mind, Morgan escorted Isabella out into the garden although he was sure he felt her falter as though she wanted to remain with Knight. Stepping from the shadowy, oppressive nature of the Castle into the sunlit garden, Morgan gave a low whistle. It was a beautiful garden, full of herbs and fruit trees. Flowers grew in the borders, giving off a heady seductive scent in the summery afternoon. "Its like paradise," Morgan whispered, then as he realised Isabella was speaking, he turned to listen to her.

"Thats a shame," He smiled at her as he took the napkin of food from her hand. "A beautiful lady like you, shouldn't have to wait for impromptu invitations. Have you no suitors anxious to declare their undying love to you?" Strolling down the path, Morgan looked for a shady spot and, sure enough, underneath an apple tree there appeared plenty of shade and soft grass to sit on. He indicated the place to Isabella. "How about there?" Morgan suggested. "I'll hold your food while you settle yourself." Then, he stood waiting whilst his delightful companion settled herself.

[Isabella]

Isabella looked around at the garden, at the blaze of colour emanating from each flower, accompanied by their heady scent, at the ripe fruits hanging from the trees, with the soft murmur the leaves made as they moved in the wind. She thought about what Fitzroy had said, though he had said it quietly, as if to himself. Maybe it was a kind of paradise. But she had never looked at it in that way.
She smiled at Fitzroy’s question: “Have you no suitors anxious to declare their undying love to you?”, wondering what was running through his mind as he said it. Maybe he had noticed her smile at Roe, and had his suspicions aroused. Or maybe he was just teasing her. Her answer would be the same nonetheless, and she was fairly confident that telling someone what they wanted to hear was the best way of dispelling any doubt in their mind.
“Fear not, I have none at all,” she replied, “Though that does not surprise me. Have you none yourself?”
They moved towards an apple tree, and Fitzroy took the bundle of food as she sat down in the shade, arranging the folds of her dress as she did so.

[Morgan]

Morgan seated himself beside Isabella. "No," he replied as to her query about ladies vying for his attention, "I've only really recently arrived back from the Holy Land. Although, knowing my mother, she's probably got half a dozen eligable young virgins all lined up to parade in front of me like prize bloodstock." He gave a shiver, which caused his shoulders to shudder. "Thank God, I have my little farm in Clun." he said softly to himself.

Fixing a smile back onto his face, Morgan tilted his head towards Isabella and, with an afterthought, he handed her the napkin of food. "I'm curious, why do you show no surprise at having no noble man paying his suit to you? Forgive me for being bold, but you are a beautiful, nay desirable woman." He raised his fingers and gently touched a curl of her hair that rested on her shoulder. "Is it Castle politics that bind you, my Lady?" Morgan asked as he rested his back against the tree trunk.

[Isabella]

“Mmm,” Isabella murmured when Fitzroy told her of his mother’s probable plans regarding his future wife, figuring that this was a man who just wanted to lead a quiet life.
After all, he had a small farm in Clun, and he seemed quite content to live there and work as a farmer. It was quite refreshing to see someone of a high rank who was not bent on gaining more power and influence, and did not seem to care about personal gain. Isabella had learnt that most nobles were ambitious, and thought better of Fitzroy for not being one of them.
She noticed him turn his head towards her, and was not sure what she expected him to do. Then he gave her the napkin of food and she unwrapped it, tearing off a piece of bread and putting it in her mouth. He touched a lock of her hair, but she did not shrug him off. He asked her why she was single and she realised that he did not know about Thornton, and why she was in Nottingham. It was common knowledge by now, she supposed – most people in the town knew who she was – but if Fitzroy said he was new to the area, he wouldn’t know.
“You flatter me, sir,” she replied, “But it is no net of politics I have fallen into; I do my best to steer clear of such things.”
But not very effectively, she added mentally, thinking of how she was failing miserably on that front. She was keeping up the charade of a dutiful lady with Prince John, Sheriff Vasey and her brother, whilst secretly involving herself with Robin Hood and his band of outlaws, not to mention Roe. And now there was Lady Gosford and Fitzroy to deal with.
“I am fairly new to Nottingham myself,” she began, “I was married when I was thirteen. But my husband – found me lacking in the qualities of a good wife. My brother, Sir Guy of Gisborne, has a position here. I came to Nottingham to seek his protection, and whilst I remain here, I have it.”
She finished her story, having put it in the nicest possible way, and wondered what Fitzroy would make of it. It may be that all interest for her had suddenly disappeared, now that he knew she was a fugitive from her husband, and with it, penniless and reliant on her brother, who she doubted Fitzroy would like. Yet she either guessed – or, more worryingly, hoped – that he would at least accept it, as she had accepted his illegitimacy.

[Morgan]

Morgan exhaled slowly. Of course she was married! Any eligible woman of her age would be married or widowed. From the sound of things, though, it didn't seem to have been a happy marriage on both parts. "It seems, my Lady, that we are both pawns in a bigger game." He said softly, attempting to hold her gaze. Had she, despite stating that her husband didn't consider her a good wife, still loved him? Morgan couldn't help but wonder about the intricacies of love, having never experienced that burning desire to be with someone, it was difficult for him to fathom how rewarding a marriage could be. And from what he gathered from Isabella, matrimony was definitely off the cards, even if she had been free to remarry. "So your husband is not in Nottingham then?" He inquired. "You are.....how do they put it? Estranged?"

Looking up at the tree's canopy, Morgan admired the ripening apples. Then he smiled at the biblical association. Lady Isabella was beautiful enough to be a beguiling Eve. All they needed was the snake. Morgan let out a loud laugh, his face creasing with amusement.

[Isabella]

Isabella nodded in agreement with Fitzroy. Both pawns in another game. That was about right. Even though Nottingham was the place where she had the most liberty in seventeen years, she wasn’t completely free, even here. But what could she expect? A woman like her who’d run from her husband was lucky to be off the streets. She had more than she ought to have.
“So your husband is not in Nottingham then?” Fitzroy inquired, “You are... how do they put it? Estranged?”
Isabella sighed slightly.
“No, my husband isn’t in Nottingham,” she confirmed, “If I must be frank, the only feelings between us were those of anger and resentment. I fled for my own safety, hoping my brother would protect me from him if he came looking for me. Now I am only grateful that he has let me be.”
She shrugged.
“I am sure he has his women, as he always did,” she added, her voice completely devoid of the bitterness of a jealous wife.
Then she noticed that Fitzroy was laughing, and was suddenly confused. His character was vexing, but she did not see mockery or sarcasm in his laughter.
“What is it?” she asked.

[Morgan]

Morgan gave a wave of his hand, as if to dismiss the amusement from his mind. "Ah, a bad joke my Lady." He replied, grinning impishly. "A beautiful garden, an apple tree, a delightful lady and myself. I couldn't help but make a biblical comparison. You and I could be in Eden, Isabella. But who is the snake? I think we have enough candidates here in the castle, don't you think?"

Getting to his feet, Morgan looked at the fruit hanging from the boughs. Carefully, he selected two choice fruits and picked them. When he returned to the ground beside Isabella, he handed an apple to her. "Do you ever feel like this place is a prison?" Morgan glanced around at the sombre grey stone of the castle walls and shivered. "I don't think I could live without seeing blue sky and lush land every day." Thoughtfully, he bit into his apple and chewed carefully.

[Isabella]

Isabella thought about Fitzroy’s idea. The Garden of Eden? Well, it was a pretty thought, though extremely unrealistic. Although the castle garden was rather beautiful on a summer’s day like this, she did not share his love for it. It too structured, too rigid; flowers were placed in the Earth by man when elsewhere they sprung from the ground of their own accord. She preferred the forest by far.
Then she noticed that Fitzroy had called her by her first name. She was slightly surprised at the drop of formality, but he had done it so casually, as if he had known her a long time, that she did not realise it at first. She decided not to mention it, instead replying, if somewhat evasively, to his question about who was playing the tempter.
“The snake? Well, I’m sure we all know one or two of those,” she said, taking the apple he offered to her and biting into it.
If this was Eden, the roles were reversed, she decided. Eve took the first bite, and Fitzroy started eating his apple before she did.
His next question came unexpectedly: did she feel like this place was a prison? Yes, she wanted to say, Every day and night. But she stopped herself from doing it. She didn’t want to start pouring her heart out to him. Although she was amiable with Fitzroy now, she was a woman who played her cards close to her chest. She bit her lip.
“It sounds ungrateful, I know,” she replied, “But yes, sometimes.”
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled.
“Is that why you have your farm in Clun?” she asked, “To be free?”

[Morgan]

Morgan shrugged his shoulders as he continued to eat his apple down to the core. "I don't think it sounds ungrateful at all," He replied. "Its an honest reply. I don't know if the farm gives me freedom, what with the livestock all relying on me. And I give the villagers as much work there as I can. No, it doesn't make me free but it gives me independence. And that is probably more important."

He looked at Isabella, as though weighing up her character. "You're welcome to ride out and visit me, one day, my Lady. If you wish of course." Throwing the apple core away, Morgan wiped the juice from his fingers on the grass beside him.

[Isabella]

Isabella nodded at what Fitzroy said about his farm – freedom and independence were two very different things, which she was finding apparent in Nottingham. Here in the castle, she wasn’t free – but she was independent from Thornton, which made a world of difference to her.
She quickly finished her apple, eating all of it, even the core, and smiled at Fitzroy’s offer of visiting him in Clun.
“Thankyou,” she said, “I would like that.”
Isabella noticed the way he was looking at her and felt as if she was under scrutiny – though what he was looking for and whether or not he found it, she did not know. She realised how their conversation had become more and more serious, starting with idle pleasantries and now moving on to more philosophical grounds. She wondered if it was because Fitzroy had no-one to talk to about things like that – he had his few servants, but other than that, his farm was quite isolated. But maybe that was what he wanted; the independence of being away from the rest of the world. Still, everyone needed friends. Isabella knew that now, she relied on other people much more. It felt better than having everything kept to herself.
She folded up the napkin of the now-demolished picnic neatly.
“Do you want to have the rest of that tour?” she asked.

[Morgan]

Morgan had been about to agree with continuing the tour when the sound of an almighty rumpus reached his ears. He winced as he recognised Prince John's shrill tones. Something had obviously displeased his Grace, who was taking it out on some poor, unfortunate soul. Morgan hoped that it was not Eveline Gosford receiving the Prince's wrath.

Scrambling to his feet, Morgan held out his hand to help Isabella rise. "Perhaps we ought to defer that until another day. It sounds as though Prince John is in a frightful mood." He leaned close to Isabella and whispered, "I always found it a good idea to keep out the way when he's in a rage." Morgan led her back towards the Castle. "At least I have my farm, I can escape to. Do you have somewhere you can hide out until this storm passes over?"

[Isabella]

Isabella flinched a little at the penetrating noise that exploded into the quiet garden. That’ll be Prince John, then, she thought, the inevitability of the simple fact inescapable. She couldn’t help but hope that he had just received the Lady Eveline Gosford. Well, she could have a hard time, too, for a change, and it served her right. Fitzroy confirmed that it was the prince who was in such a bad mood, advising her to stay out of the way.
“I doubt I would still be in one piece if I had not yet learnt that myself,” Isabella said, taking his hand and standing up, “I thank you for your concern, but you needn’t worry about me. I’ve gotten used to the prince’s ways by now.”
Fitzroy escorted her towards the castle, checking that she had a place to sit out the storm of Prince John’s wrath.
“My chamber should be sufficient,” she decided, “It’s just down this corridor here.”

[Morgan]

Morgan dutifully escorted Isabella to the door of her chamber. "You are a very enchanting Lady," He whispered, taking her hand and raising it to his lips once more. "I apologise if my coarse and unruly manner has offended you at times. Keeping less genteel company, I seem to have developed a few rough edges." Morgan smiled at Isabella once more. "And now my tour of the castle has been cut short and we are sent fleeing the Prince's wrath." Gently, Morgan caressed Isabella's hand with his thumb.

"I hope, I sincerely hope, we meet again soon my Lady, but until then, I must bid you adieu!" With all courtesy, Morgan released Isabella's hand as he swept a deep bow then, turning on his heel, he retreated down the corridor and made his way quickly out of the Castle. As Morgan crossed the courtyard, he could still hear Prince John's bellow of rage and quickened his step.

[Isabella]

Isabella said nothing when Fitzroy praised her, though normally she would have come up with a well-conceived reply to what he was saying. She simply couldn’t think of anything to say in return, and for someone who used words as her chief tool, the fact was annoying, if not alarming. She did not speak until Fitzroy had bowed and turned away down the corridor, and only then did she murmur one word: “Adieu,” before retreating to her chamber.