Chapters (76)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- PART III
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- INTERLUDE
- PART IV
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- INTERLUDE
- PART V
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART VI
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- INTERLUDE
- PART VII
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- PART VIII
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
William de Wendenal had been droning on, sitting in the sheriff’s seat and wearing the sheriff’s power but whining like a third child. Wendenal was trying to play the role of Roger de Lacy with only a quarter the wit. He had mastered all the strategy of an infant.
But the sycophants had come to Nottingham, both to mourn de Lacy and to make alliances with his successor. Wendenal’s suspicious rise was ignored in favor of their own advancement. The collusion between Wendenal and the outlaws was undeniable even before his ridiculous betrothal to their benefactor Marion Fitzwalter. But William’s tenuous position would be solidified the moment he captured Locksley’s men, and despite Guy’s every effort he had yet to find any leads that might bring him there first.
Now that he saw the endgame, there was no point in fighting anymore—the finale had already been orchestrated. Wendenal stared at him. “I suppose you’ll tell me what’s so funny about my suggestion?”
Guy smiled, deeply. “Why, if you found nothing funny about it, I must have been entirely mistaken. The Sheriff’s law is the county’s law, and so must his sense of humor be ours as well. Henceforth shall I wait for the Sheriff to chuckle ’ere I e’er dare smile.”
Wendenal rifled through his catalog of obvious facial tics that indicated he was displeased. “Shall I repeat myself, or do you think you can manage your task seriously?”
“Why not just repeat yourself, for clarity’s sake?”
Wendenal’s previous display of subtlety was now topped with an old-fashioned eye roll, and then he said it again. The punchline. By itself, the punchline is never funny, as it requires the setup of the joke. And this particular joke had been several days in the making.
THOSE FEW DAYS AGO, Guy paid a visit to Simon FitzSimon. Ever since de Lacy’s murder, Simon had been uncharacteristically affected, aloof even. Guy attributed this behavior to a misplaced sense of guilt—it was natural to be shaken by the terrorism that had taken place within the walls of the castle. But Guy needed all his allies at their peak right now, and it looked like Simon needed help. So Guy brought several fistfuls of ale to his armsmaster’s quarters, there being nothing so successful at lifting one’s spirits than one’s lifting of spirits.
But the unkempt man who flung open his door was full of bitter and spite rather than remorse. Huffing and posturing, Simon denied his unusual behavior until Guy threatened to drink all the ale himself. When Simon finally let loose, he revealed a most curious story. The good Sheriff Roger de Lacy, apparently, had visited Simon on his final living night with a preposterous claim. He denounced his own insufferable idea of culling prisoners into the Guard, and swore it had been Guy’s idea instead. And unbelievably, Simon had fallen for it.