Gianfranco Mancini’s Reviews > Hood > Status Update

"Tell me," he said to de Rosseley, "how Richard beat the impregnable stronghold at Taillebourg?"
De Rosseley frowned, and shrugged. "The Lionheart didn't attack it at all. He systematically destroyed everything around it -- every village, every field -- until the horrified garrison was drawn out into open battle."
"Destroy everything they hold dear..." said Gisburne. "That's been Hood's strategy. And now it's mine."

"I have had many names in my life, but the very worst of them -- that which I hate the most -- is John Lyttel. If I am ever again a free man, my only desire is to return to my father's mill in Isledon and once again become plain John Attemille."
"Then let us make that happen," said Gisburne. "And wipe this place off the face of the Earth."

"You betrayed your fellows, supported a murderer and thief, used your knowledge to prise him from the jaws of justice and bring death to the King's own palace -- the Tower you were once sworn to protect. Tell me, John Lyttel, why should we trust you now?"
Lyttel fixed his eyes on Gisburne's. "Because I want what you want."
"And what is that?"
"An end. To this madness..."

"The charge..." said de Rosseley. “When it happens -- when we are fully committed, and they see it for what it is -- that will be when we
are most vulnerable. If, in that moment, they have time to get their bows..."
"I have a plan," said Gisburne.
"Is it like your last plan?"
Gisburne smiled. "A good deal better than that."
"Well, that's a mercy."

"Great God," said de Rosseley. "He's given us lepers..."
Gisburne remembered where he had seen the knights' banner before.
The Holy Land.
"The Knights of St Lazarus," he said.
"I thought I knew the banner..." said Asif. "But I did not believe it."
"They fight as fiercely as any knights," said Gisburne. "Often more so. I imagine they must have fought well for Richard."
"And this is how he thanks them?"

Why they had not immediately capitulated when they saw Richard's banners, Gisburne could not fathom. Surely even Murdac could not be that stubborn. Formidable as the castle was, they could not hope to win; this was no mere upstart baron at their gates, but the King himself, the great conqueror of castles, and in his own
domain. By resisting, all they guaranteed was death - and a traitor's death did not come swiftly.

He had lost Hood's army, and become stuck with Richard's. He had split the company, stranding two of them on the wrong side of a siege. He stood to be publicly rejected by Richard for his past associations with John, and by John's supporters for his current association with Richard.
In his mind, he saw Hood, somewhere out there, as he laughed and laughed and laughed.

"I don't need words. My sword speaks for me."
"Irontongue," said Mélisande. Gisburne stared at her. The others, suddenly silent, did not quite dare. She gave him a little smile, then shrugged. "Because it speaks for you."
Since Gisburne failed to raise any further objection, de Rosseley -- with all-too-obvious delight -- declared Mélisande the namer of the
sword. Irontongue it was.

"A good blade," said de Rosseley. "And with a history. Does it have a name?"
"A name?" Gisburne looked at his friend as if were suddenly speaking a foreign language.
"It deserves a name."
"What purpose does a name serve?"
"Purpose? Come on!" cajoled de Rosseley. "Every great sword should have a name. And this is a great sword -- a king's sword."

"A gift?" said Mélisande, taking it from him with a smile and a frown. She took it, registered its weight, unwrapped the cloth. The polished steel breastplate sent dancing reflections about the dark corridor. She turned it over. It was shaped to fit her, its leather straps-dyed green-ending in bronze buckles. "Well.." she said, almost lost for words. "Most men just give a girl a ring."