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

“Fuck you muchly,” Simon spat, and wiped the spittle from his red beard. “More of my boys have been killed in the last month than in the last two years. I aim to help out with the balancing. And I guarantee you’re not interested in crossin’ me on this.”

Guy knew which battles weren’t worth fighting. “Quillen Peveril, this is our master-at-arms, The Simons. He’ll ride with you.”

“Peveril?” Simon raised an eyebrow at the name. “Well, fuck me.”

Quill didn’t even smirk. “I assure you that I will not.”

“Oh, you won’t have a choice.” Eric grinned. “Every true blue in Nottingham knows that if The Simons sets his eye on you, then you, sir, are going to get fucked.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Guy pre-empted any more laugher. There was something fitting about Simon’s presence, now that he thought on it. He brought an appropriate sense of history and pride to round out the Black Guard. “Go throw a saddle on a bear for Simon and get out there.”

The company rallied and mounted up. “I’m with you today, Captain,” Marshall said, pulling close on a horse that looked quite surprised to be carrying an ox on her back. “You look good.”

“I look like shit,” Guy responded. He had dirtied his tunic, tied a burlap sash around his waist, sponged his cheeks with mud. They would be riding into the unknown dregs of the county, leaving all semblance of civilization behind.

“Should we get moving, or do you want to go ask his highness de Wendenal if he approves of this plan?”

“I’d rather skin myself with my own fingernails than waste any breath talking to that man.”

“God’s balls,” Marshall scrunched his wide face as well as he could, “that’s disgusting. Now I won’t be able to get that idea out of my head for the rest of the day.”

“You think that’s bad?” Guy asked. “I have to deal with contemplating the enormity of God’s balls, thank you very much.”

He dug his heels hard into Merciful’s side and pushed out and away from the castle, out through the city. Every hoofbeat took him further away from the disease that had taken over Nottingham, and closer to its cure.

But the disease, he was a part of it now, whether he liked it or not. They were hiding themselves, dabbling in deception, that they might steal information from those who would never deal with them honestly.

Lying, hiding, stealing.

The Nottingham Guard had fallen so low, and he had to pray that they would still have the strength to pick themselves back up again.

Once it was over.

FORTY-SEVEN

WILLIAM DE WENDENAL

NOTTINGHAM CASTLE