BooksBarbecue
Back Nottingham
Chapters (76)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. PART II
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. PART III
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. INTERLUDE
  35. PART IV
  36. TWENTY-SEVEN
  37. TWENTY-EIGHT
  38. TWENTY-NINE
  39. THIRTY
  40. THIRTY-ONE
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. INTERLUDE
  45. PART V
  46. THIRTY-FIVE
  47. THIRTY-SIX
  48. THIRTY-SEVEN
  49. THIRTY-EIGHT
  50. PART VI
  51. THIRTY-NINE
  52. FORTY
  53. FORTY-ONE
  54. FORTY-TWO
  55. FORTY-THREE
  56. FORTY-FOUR
  57. FORTY-FIVE
  58. INTERLUDE
  59. PART VII
  60. FORTY-SIX
  61. FORTY-SEVEN
  62. FORTY-EIGHT
  63. FORTY-NINE
  64. FIFTY
  65. FIFTY-ONE
  66. FIFTY-TWO
  67. PART VIII
  68. FIFTY-THREE
  69. FIFTY-FOUR
  70. FIFTY-FIVE
  71. FIFTY-SIX
  72. EPILOGUE
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  75. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  76. Newsletter Sign-up

THERE WAS NO SLEEP for Guy that night, the air was too hot, and his skin was on fire. Eric’s words had wormed within him. Guy had always been a champion of the law, but that law had failed him. There was no pride in pursuit of duty to a false leader. If Guy had seen through Wendenal’s lies earlier, his men would not be dead. But Wendenal was only as powerful as those who executed his commands, which meant he was only responsible for half of the funeral pyre—Guy’s adherence to discipline had built the other half. It was the law that gnawed at him, and he was the only damned person left in Nottingham who cared about it.

He couldn’t breathe, his heart was too fast, there was too much to do now. Guy’s leg was twitching and his knuckles hurt where he had punched the table earlier. He picked at the scabs on them and sucked on the blood. The swirling fitfulness of sleep pulled at his thoughts, down dark rivers. What might he be able to accomplish were he not so bound by the law? What might he accomplish were he as unscrupulous as a Robin Hood?

Guy opened his eyes to the darkness of his room, cold sweat on his chest, and no time had passed at all. It was too hot, and he could swear there was a taste of blood in his mouth.

He dressed and left the stone keep, up the walkway about the middle bailey, hoping the crisp night air would clear his head. The castle was disarmingly still. Even the scrape of his boots against the stone seemed unwelcome. A cat-eye half-moon gave its blanket over a clear night. The great ribbon in the sky was clear, and the constellation of the archer aimed upward. Eric had taught him those constellations.

He felt it in the air before he heard it. A ripple in silence he didn’t take to, a rhythm in the city that wasn’t right. He knew the castle too well. There was a pause, not audible at first, but eventually it rose—a cluster of hesitations that formed a warning. Then, an eruption of screaming, from below, and a burst of men vomited upward from the tunnel that led down into the prisons. Their words, “Make way! Hurry! Get him out of here! Oh God, oh God!”

It became piercing, an alarum that woke the castle itself. Guy threw himself to full pace, dashing down a set of stone steps to meet the crowd. They were Guardsmen mostly, though not all from Nottingham, fighting against one in their center. Closer, Guy realized they were carrying someone that was fighting back, kicking and contorting against the four men who handled him, one at each limb.

Not fighting back. Dying. A Guardsman who was covered in blood.

“Get him to the keep! Get the doctor!” one man yelled.