Guy turned to find a quartet watching him from the relative safety of a stall a few feet away. Jon Bassett was the only one who belonged there, and he held an uncomfortably stoic face that meant he was trying to exude authority. The redheaded guest beside him was no stranger to the castle—the Lady Marion Fitzwalter, a woman of no actual power but who felt entitled to all of it. She tended to stick her nose in the sheriff’s business, lobbying for trifling matters with a religious zeal. Her presence usually meant that Guy would have to send a few men to search for some lost child who was just hiding in a tree, or something impossibly less important. Her requests were only entertained on account of her relation to King Richard, a fact that she was quick to reiterate to anyone who tried to be rid of her.

Guy smiled exactly wide enough that he could not be accused of frowning, and no more. “Barbarians can come from anywhere they wish,” he answered. “That’s what makes them barbarians. Jon, what can I do for the lady?”

“The lady can speak for herself.” Marion left Jon wide-eyed, lips shut tightly. “I was told you wanted to see me, actually.”

“Were you?” Guy squinted against the sun to make out the other two bodies, both attendants to Lady Marion. The tall slender figure to her left was a rare thing indeed, a knight who had not answered the call to war. To her right was a handmaid of no importance and even less beauty. “What did I want to see you about?”

“In regard to Locksley Castle, Captain,” Jon Bassett answered, again trying his best to appear official.

“Ah yes.” Guy snapped his fingers. He had needed to speak to someone in regard to Locksley Castle, but if he’d known it would be Lady Marion then he might have changed his mind. “I’ve received some curious reports from Locksley. Something about Lord Walter locking one of our tax collectors in a room overnight, threatening his life?”

Marion’s wide mask didn’t budge. “I was there, and I can guarantee you the story is exaggerated. There was some innocent fun, at his expense admittedly, but no harm was done.”

“He wasn’t the first tax collector we’ve sent to Locksley, though,” Guy recalled. “I don’t tend to get involved with such things personally, except when the collectors find their debtors to be … problematic.”

“I assure you there is no problem.” Marion’s lips pursed. “It’s the very reason I came to Nottingham today, to speak with the Sheriff and sort out any question of Lord Walter’s perceived debts.”

“Perceived debts?” Guy had not heard that inventive phrase before. “That sounds problematic in and of itself.”