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.
Disclaimer 2: The writers were on the good stuff when they wrote this one.
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27th September, in this the year of our Lord 1194
At The Boar and Bell, York
Dear Diary,
I feel untethered. The ground has shifted beneath me - everything takes on a new light... I have found out that I was not responsible for my parents' deaths.
For so many years, I have believed that I was to blame. For so many years, I have lived with the shame - the knowledge that my soul was already damned. Yesterday, I found Robin, and prepared to make an end of it... and then we were both ambushed. Knocked out with blow darts, and when we awoke, many hours later, we were tightly bound. It was Robin's father, Sir Malcolm, whom everyone had long believed dead in the same fire that took my parents. He had followed us, to tell us the true story of what happened, all those years ago. He told us everything - all the secrets so long buried.
He killed my mother. She was dead before the fire took hold.
It is a long story. I must start from the beginning. When my father was believed lost in the Crusades, Robin's father and my mother... became lovers. They planned to marry, but then my father returned home, and all was thrown into chaos. But father had returned with that terrible disease upon him, leprosy. He was banished from the village, cast into an open grave and forced to climb out on his own! I still remember my burning anger at all the villagers who turned out to witness his humiliation. He had been a good lord to them, a generous man - a brave man who fought for his faith in the Holy Land - and this was to be his repayment?
After that, he was legally dead, and mother was free to remarry. No doubt Malcolm's hopes were revived - but she still loved my father. I do not know what might have happened, if not for the fire. It was an impossible situation, but she was the most determined woman I have ever known. If a way could have been found for us to be together as a family once more, she would have found it. I know it.
But as a boy, I did not understand. I discovered that she had been visiting my father in secret, in the leper colony. I was so angry. I thought she was being selfish - why was she allowed to visit him, and yet I was forbidden? But when I confronted her, she told me that she intended to marry Malcolm, that he would take care of us from now on. I was furious - and afraid! I thought he must be forcing her in some way, I could not believe that she would choose Malcolm over my father, although I see now that it was not that simple. I was angry with father, too - if he loved us, why had he left us for so long to fight in the Crusades? Why had he returned with this terrible disease? Why, when they banished him from the village, did he not fight back? Why did he abandon us?
I confronted him in that horrible colony, told him that Malcolm was forcing mother to marry him. I accused him of not loving us. I do not know if my words had any effect, but the next day, he returned in secret to our home, to speak to mother. Isabella and I waited by the hearth, not daring to hope. But father had been seen - by Robin, of course, the keen-eyed meddler! He told everyone that father had entered the village, breaking the terms of his banishment. Malcolm came to evict him. That was when I tried to stop him, and when the fire began.
I fled the house with Isabella, and there I believed the story ended. But more happened than I knew. Father and Malcolm fought, and Malcolm was the stronger, would have despatched him, but my mother intervened. It was an accidental blow, Malcolm said. He knocked her to the floor, and she hit her head, and did not rise again. My father regained his sword, and could have killed Malcolm on the spot - but he decided to show mercy. He spared Malcolm's life, and stayed behind in the burning house with my mother's body, choosing to end his days there rather than rot slowly in a leper colony. Sir Malcolm fled - coward that he was! - preferring to orphan Robin rather than burdening him with the shame.
Sir Malcolm of Locksley. I hated him then, and I hate him now, no matter that he is dying, and will not live to see Robin again. I will never forgive him for seducing my mother, for causing her death and the death of my father. And yet, guilt is heavy upon my own shoulders. We are damned for the same sins.
Robin was distraught at the tale. He always worshipped his father, I recall. To my surprise, I felt some sympathy for his distress. I know the cruel pain of discovering that you were mistaken in someone you love. Robin was an annoying child, a braggart and a tattle-tale - from the day he picked up a bow he boasted that he was the best in the village, until it became the truth! And he was not so honest, either: he never confessed to the crime that nearly had me hanged as a boy, when he shot down the wheel that nearly crushed the priest. The villagers all believed I had done it - he did not step forward to tell of his guilt. But the fault lay with his father: he was shielded from reality by Malcolm, protected from harsh truths, and regarded by all the villagers as a golden child. He was brought up to believe himself the centre of a benign universe.
Isabella and I were distrusted, because of our beloved, strong-minded French mother. She oversaw the lands herself when we believed father was dead, and the villagers hated her for the presumption. They believed the lands - gifted to my father for his services to the King - should have reverted back to Locksley's care, as they had been before. And of course they did return to that family in the end, after Isabella and I had fled, and with all our parents dead. Robin, lord of the manor at eight years old! I heard that Bailiff Longthorn tried to take over, taking advantage of Robin's youth, but that Robin expelled him, supported by the villagers and that foolish priest. It is no wonder he has such an over-inflated opinion of himself.
But then there is Malcolm's other revelation: Robin and I share a brother.
Mother bore the babe in secret, and would have brought him home if she and Malcolm had wed. His name is Archer - named for a birthmark he bears in the shape of an arrowhead. All we know of him is that he has travelled far and wide, and possesses exotic weapons from the Orient that may be useful in our fight against Isabella. He is in York, and he is set to hang - I don't know whether to blame the Gisborne or the Locksley blood for that! That is why Malcolm tracked us down. He wished us to put aside our enmity, and to find Archer and save him - together. Robin and I. He is clearly mad.
I think Robin and I must be mad, too, for we have agreed to do it.
Robin told me he cannot forgive me for what I did to Marian, and seemed surprised that I did not expect such a mercy. But why should he? I will never forgive myself. Nor will I forgive his father for his crimes. After telling his gang - who were less than pleased to see me! - Robin and I headed to York. We robbed one of Isabella's toll booths on the road, and it was surprisingly easy to work with him. He is sharp and professional. We reached York and have booked rooms at this inn, and I am taking a moment of quiet before I go down to share a meal with him, and plan our invasion of York prison.
I needed to stop and think - and writing this diary has become a way of laying out my thoughts so I can make sense of them. It is almost a compulsion, now - I am amazed that I have managed to drag it with me throughout my exile. The only other person to have seen it is Meg, and I believe what she said, that she did not read what I had written. I read her note with a pain that I cherish close to my heart. I was not worthy of her trust.
I can scarcely believe how much has changed in such a short time.
Gif by gisbourne.
Disclaimer 2: The writers were on the good stuff when they wrote this one.
---
27th September, in this the year of our Lord 1194
At The Boar and Bell, York
Dear Diary,
I feel untethered. The ground has shifted beneath me - everything takes on a new light... I have found out that I was not responsible for my parents' deaths.
For so many years, I have believed that I was to blame. For so many years, I have lived with the shame - the knowledge that my soul was already damned. Yesterday, I found Robin, and prepared to make an end of it... and then we were both ambushed. Knocked out with blow darts, and when we awoke, many hours later, we were tightly bound. It was Robin's father, Sir Malcolm, whom everyone had long believed dead in the same fire that took my parents. He had followed us, to tell us the true story of what happened, all those years ago. He told us everything - all the secrets so long buried.
He killed my mother. She was dead before the fire took hold.
It is a long story. I must start from the beginning. When my father was believed lost in the Crusades, Robin's father and my mother... became lovers. They planned to marry, but then my father returned home, and all was thrown into chaos. But father had returned with that terrible disease upon him, leprosy. He was banished from the village, cast into an open grave and forced to climb out on his own! I still remember my burning anger at all the villagers who turned out to witness his humiliation. He had been a good lord to them, a generous man - a brave man who fought for his faith in the Holy Land - and this was to be his repayment?
After that, he was legally dead, and mother was free to remarry. No doubt Malcolm's hopes were revived - but she still loved my father. I do not know what might have happened, if not for the fire. It was an impossible situation, but she was the most determined woman I have ever known. If a way could have been found for us to be together as a family once more, she would have found it. I know it.
But as a boy, I did not understand. I discovered that she had been visiting my father in secret, in the leper colony. I was so angry. I thought she was being selfish - why was she allowed to visit him, and yet I was forbidden? But when I confronted her, she told me that she intended to marry Malcolm, that he would take care of us from now on. I was furious - and afraid! I thought he must be forcing her in some way, I could not believe that she would choose Malcolm over my father, although I see now that it was not that simple. I was angry with father, too - if he loved us, why had he left us for so long to fight in the Crusades? Why had he returned with this terrible disease? Why, when they banished him from the village, did he not fight back? Why did he abandon us?
I confronted him in that horrible colony, told him that Malcolm was forcing mother to marry him. I accused him of not loving us. I do not know if my words had any effect, but the next day, he returned in secret to our home, to speak to mother. Isabella and I waited by the hearth, not daring to hope. But father had been seen - by Robin, of course, the keen-eyed meddler! He told everyone that father had entered the village, breaking the terms of his banishment. Malcolm came to evict him. That was when I tried to stop him, and when the fire began.
I fled the house with Isabella, and there I believed the story ended. But more happened than I knew. Father and Malcolm fought, and Malcolm was the stronger, would have despatched him, but my mother intervened. It was an accidental blow, Malcolm said. He knocked her to the floor, and she hit her head, and did not rise again. My father regained his sword, and could have killed Malcolm on the spot - but he decided to show mercy. He spared Malcolm's life, and stayed behind in the burning house with my mother's body, choosing to end his days there rather than rot slowly in a leper colony. Sir Malcolm fled - coward that he was! - preferring to orphan Robin rather than burdening him with the shame.
Sir Malcolm of Locksley. I hated him then, and I hate him now, no matter that he is dying, and will not live to see Robin again. I will never forgive him for seducing my mother, for causing her death and the death of my father. And yet, guilt is heavy upon my own shoulders. We are damned for the same sins.
Robin was distraught at the tale. He always worshipped his father, I recall. To my surprise, I felt some sympathy for his distress. I know the cruel pain of discovering that you were mistaken in someone you love. Robin was an annoying child, a braggart and a tattle-tale - from the day he picked up a bow he boasted that he was the best in the village, until it became the truth! And he was not so honest, either: he never confessed to the crime that nearly had me hanged as a boy, when he shot down the wheel that nearly crushed the priest. The villagers all believed I had done it - he did not step forward to tell of his guilt. But the fault lay with his father: he was shielded from reality by Malcolm, protected from harsh truths, and regarded by all the villagers as a golden child. He was brought up to believe himself the centre of a benign universe.
Isabella and I were distrusted, because of our beloved, strong-minded French mother. She oversaw the lands herself when we believed father was dead, and the villagers hated her for the presumption. They believed the lands - gifted to my father for his services to the King - should have reverted back to Locksley's care, as they had been before. And of course they did return to that family in the end, after Isabella and I had fled, and with all our parents dead. Robin, lord of the manor at eight years old! I heard that Bailiff Longthorn tried to take over, taking advantage of Robin's youth, but that Robin expelled him, supported by the villagers and that foolish priest. It is no wonder he has such an over-inflated opinion of himself.
But then there is Malcolm's other revelation: Robin and I share a brother.
Mother bore the babe in secret, and would have brought him home if she and Malcolm had wed. His name is Archer - named for a birthmark he bears in the shape of an arrowhead. All we know of him is that he has travelled far and wide, and possesses exotic weapons from the Orient that may be useful in our fight against Isabella. He is in York, and he is set to hang - I don't know whether to blame the Gisborne or the Locksley blood for that! That is why Malcolm tracked us down. He wished us to put aside our enmity, and to find Archer and save him - together. Robin and I. He is clearly mad.
I think Robin and I must be mad, too, for we have agreed to do it.
Robin told me he cannot forgive me for what I did to Marian, and seemed surprised that I did not expect such a mercy. But why should he? I will never forgive myself. Nor will I forgive his father for his crimes. After telling his gang - who were less than pleased to see me! - Robin and I headed to York. We robbed one of Isabella's toll booths on the road, and it was surprisingly easy to work with him. He is sharp and professional. We reached York and have booked rooms at this inn, and I am taking a moment of quiet before I go down to share a meal with him, and plan our invasion of York prison.
I needed to stop and think - and writing this diary has become a way of laying out my thoughts so I can make sense of them. It is almost a compulsion, now - I am amazed that I have managed to drag it with me throughout my exile. The only other person to have seen it is Meg, and I believe what she said, that she did not read what I had written. I read her note with a pain that I cherish close to my heart. I was not worthy of her trust.
I can scarcely believe how much has changed in such a short time.
Gif by gisbourne.