by Kate Danley
Sir Richard was standing in the courtyard waiting as the two came forth. Even in the lamplight, Robin could see his eyes were bloodshot and darkly circled. Before Robin could even dismount, he stepped forward and asked. "What of Marian?"
"The Sheriff's men have her," said Robin. He slid off the horse and held up his hand to stop Sir Richard. "They accused her of being a poacher. She told them they could secure a ransom if they brought her safely to you."
"I'll make preparations and ride out to the guards immediately," said Sir Richard. He turned and started walking back towards the front entrance to his hall.
"They did not know there was anyone else with her," Robin called after him.
Sir Richard stopped. Robin held out his hands in apology. He knew it had been for survival and there had been no other options.
But now, standing in front of Sir Richard, he felt shame.
She should be the one standing here, not him. She should be safe, not him. He was an outlaw. And she was everything. His voice trembled, and he could not stop it. "She offered herself, again, to save my life. And I was too weak to fight."
Sir Richard heard Robin's distress. He walked back and embraced Robin like a son, then stepped back and held him at arm's length as he reassured him. "She has the heart of a lion and I am not surprised she did whatever it took to protect you. She is returning payment in kind for the act you did so selflessly when you saved her life."
It was too much.
To have Marian seized and to have Sir Richard take the news with such support and understanding.
Robin could have remained stoic if Sir Richard had railed. But for this man to embrace him? To treat him with sympathy?
"I am torn apart by guilt," said Robin, unable to keep the tears from welling up. He shoved the heels of his palms into his sockets to try to stop the flow. He fell to his knees as the emotions and exhaustion ripped through him. "I could do nothing," he wept, broken. "I only made it worse..."
Sir Richard reached down and helped him up. "My friend, she will come to no harm. She is wiser than both you and me. We shall get her back."
Robin tried to pull himself together. His chest kept catching. "The Sheriff is coming. His best man, Sir Guy of Gisborne, holds her and will continue to hold her until the Sheriff decides her fate. John and I must leave. If the Sheriff comes to your stronghold and discovers us here... if they do something to her or you because of us..."
"If she is under the custody of a knight, her honor will be protected," said Sir Richard with naïve conviction.
Robin shook his head. "You do not know Sir Guy. Little John and I must leave now."
"Your friend may die," Sir Richard warned him.
"He will die if the Sheriff captures him," said Robin, motioning to the gate with fear. "And then the Sheriff's ire will fall on you, too."
Sir Richard took Robin by the elbow and steered him indoors. "You are exhausted. All men must eat and sleep. Come. Rest. See what the morning brings." A page opened the door to the great hall and they walked through. "I would fight to the death to protect you and John," Sir Richard soothed.
"You do not know the evil that is coming. Can you not send for friends to come to your aid? This is the twilight of a wicked hour," Robin begged.
"Friends to defend me for providing sanctuary to an outlaw who sins against church and crown?" the knight asked with honest clarity. "No. There is no one who will come to my aid for aiding a man who robs them of their wealth anytime they pass from York to Nottingham. But I will protect you, nonetheless."
"This is beyond the bounds of any duty you owe me for a kindness I would have given to anyone."
The hall of the stronghold was warm. A pit in the center of the room held a fire. The smoke rose up to the high ceiling and swirled as it found its way out through the small windows near the peaked roof.
On the painted stonewalls hung a banner bearing Sir Richard's crest. He pointed to it. "When the kingdom broke into baronies and the rule of law was bent to the individual desires of those who held a parcel of land, a man was at the mercy of whatever rule of law he happened to stumble into that day, whatever whim their baron might have. Justice was not a word spoken in these parts. The Sheriff upholds that old, fractious way of thinking. If we die, we die as martyrs standing up for that which is right. We die not as cowards, bowing and scraping and going the easy way."
"But die for what?" Robin asked. "Why dash the lives of those you lead at the feet of a man such as the Sheriff when John and I could just go? It is a risk, but it is the consequences of our actions."
"John told me the priest who betrayed you to the Sheriff, he was Abbot William Roundel?"
Robin nodded.
"And he was also the abbot who took the money from me, a holy man you would not have bothered with if I had not shared my woe? If you had not responded to my heartache with a generosity of spirit and a hope for justice?"
"Now..." Robin tried to protest, but the knight cut him off.
"You know it is true," Sir Richard went on. "My niece would be safe if it had not been for my son's crime. If you trace back, moment-by-moment, to the events which led us here, my niece is held because you helped me, because my son accidentally killed a man and I refused to allow him to accept the consequences of his actions. I mortgaged my land to save him, taking money I could not pay back. You protected me, refusing to allow me to face the consequences of my own actions."
"Consequences of generosity! Consequences of an unfair system!" Robin was quick to point out.
"But consequences nonetheless," said the knight. "We all share in the sin, so we must all share in the solution." He motioned to the people resting and talking in the great hall. "These people have heard of you. They would fight for you whether I choose to stand with them or not. You are their champion. At least by using my power to aid of their voices, they have my strength to draw on. It will afford them more protection than if I was to let them twist in the wind." He clapped his hands, calling his servants to bring food and drink to Robin. "Besides, we do not know if and why the Sheriff may come. As far as any of us know, he has no idea that you have sought shelter behind my walls. We will open the discourse with diplomacy. He may bring word from the king. He may have news from foreign lands. We do not know if he comes for you or not."
"You know," said Robin.
The knight turned to Robin and corrected him. "We do not. We have a guess, but we do not know, and it is in that vast chasm of knowing and unknowing where so many opportunities lie. There may be some way to come to an agreement which will not result in bloodshed."
"Not with the Sheriff. Not with Sir Guy of Gisborne. You are a man of ideals," remarked Robin grimly. "Ideals may get you killed."
"One must try to live their life honoring the nobility of the human heart, otherwise, you just become a battered, aged hypocrite," said the knight. He motioned one of his pages over and directed him to tend to Robin's needs. "Now, to supper and bed with you. Visit Little John. Raise your friend's spirits. He has been so afraid that you are dead. Thank him for his sacrifice. And do not worry, I will speak to the Sheriff's guards. There is nothing to be done until the Sheriff arrives."
"Thank you for your hospitality and kindness, sir," said Robin, placing his clenched fist on his chest and bowing.
The knight lifted his finger. "Promise me that if we survive this day, you will look for ways to live inside the law. For your heart and mind are wasted in the heart of Sherwood Forest. You should not squander this one, precious life because evil men say you do not belong."
"I will do what I can," swore Robin.
"And I shall help you," said the knight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Robin woke with a start. The bodies of other sleepers lined the great hall, their nests made in beds of warm hay. The fire in the center of the room had burned down to glowing embers and a woman sat beside it, unloading her armload of firewood.
The day came and went. Robin spent most of it at Little John's s
ide. Sir Richard sent out a message to Sir Guy and the Sheriff's soldiers, telling them he was frantic with worry for the safety of his niece. The messenger returned with a reply that she was well taken care of and would be returned to him personally by the Sheriff that evening.
It set Robin's teeth on edge, but he kept his concerns to himself. He knew his protests would fall on deaf ears. Instead, he spent his day wondering what happened to Will, frustrated that they could not get word to him that they were safe. Little John faded in and out of consciousness, the wound of his leg still angry. The healer came by several times to change the poultice. It had been painfully cauterized the day before, but at least the bandages were red and bloody, not green or filled with yellow pus. Robin hoped it would stay that way. Little John grumbled when woken for his meals, but allowed Robin to spoon him meaty broth.
The rest of the time, Robin sat quietly, allowing his friend to sleep, or murmuring rambling stories to guide his best friend's dreams.
Or he worried for Maid Marian.
Robin went down into the great hall to join Sir Richard for dinner as a distant evening bell tolled for vespers. He had just reached for some bread when a new messenger entered. The man bowed and spoke two words: "They are here."
Immediately, the room was a flurry of activity. Sir Richard leaped up as if the words were a call to battle. His chair clattered behind him. He motioned to Robin to stay out of sight, then waited calmly for his servants to right his chair before slowly sitting down again, the picture of calm grace.
But Robin was not about to hide in a back room.
A page scurried around, cleaning up the table for the guests. He was young but well fed, and almost as tall as Robin.
"You, there," he said.
"Yes?" asked the page.
"Change clothes with me," Robin commanded.
The servant was scandalized. "I'll be removed from duty, sir."
Robin shook his head. "I have a feeling you'll be rewarded instead. You'll aid Sir Richard in saving his niece. Take my place. Sit at the table at the feast. But give me your clothes so that I might be a servant for the night."
The page looked nervous but nodded. He and Robin slipped into an alcove and by the time the Sheriff and his men had entered the hall, Robin had found a dim corner to stand with a pitcher of wine. He kept his movements relaxed and unobtrusive, fading into the tapestry as gifted servants do.
The only moment that he was almost betrayed was when the Sheriff dragged Maid Marian into the center of the room and flung her on the ground.
Robin instinctively jerked forward to come to her aid.
But then stopped himself.
It would only make things worse.
Rash action had caused everything.
Now, he needed strategic patience.
He stepped back into the shadows.
"Sir Knight!" proclaimed Guy. "We have something which belongs to you." He reached over and grabbed Marian by the chin. He forced her dirt-stained face toward her uncle. "If you would like her returned to you safely, you will claim responsibility for her and discuss the terms of her release. Or deny any knowledge of her and leave her to me and my men." Sir Guy let out a wicked laugh, leaving no question what fate he had in store for her.
"The heavens preserve us," said the knight.
"Is this your niece?" asked the Sheriff.
"Of course she is! I sent you a note yesterday to get this matter settled! You said she was in good health and would bring her to me. What seems to be the issue?" Sir Richard asked, as if mystified why there should be any drama related to the girl. "She enjoys going out into the woods. Loves nature and the songs of the birds."
"Are you sure she does not go out into the forest to poach?" asked the Sheriff.
"Oh, heavens no!" exclaimed Sir Richard with a laugh. "She has never hunted in her life! Look at her hands! Soft as a refined lady! Callused only from holding the bridle of her pony."
"He leaped and got away from me, uncle!" Marian cried, rising and throwing herself into her uncle's arms. It was a performance that might have passed in front of any other crowd, but the Sheriff could smell a lie across a room.
"A pony?" he repeated, incredulously. He pointed to the knife Marian wore around her waist, the knife that Robin had placed upon her after that terrible day in the woods. "That knife bears the old crest of a known outlaw. How did she get it? How many outlaws has she 'befriended' in the woods?"
"Of all the ridiculous notions!" Sir Richard sputtered, not knowing how to respond, but realizing it could have dire consequences. "Girl? Answer the man. How did you get it?"
"I bought it!" she hiccupped.
"You bought it, you say?" repeated the Sheriff, his tone disbelieving.
Sir Richard leaned towards the Sheriff and Sir Guy and explained, "She was robbed by highwaymen just a few weeks ago. She's been very concerned about safety ever since. Has even asked me for sword lessons!"
"You said her hand never held anything rougher than a pony's rein," stated Sir Guy, the words slithering out of his mouth like the tail of a snake.
"I have not granted her request," replied Sir Richard. He examined at Marian with worry. "Is that why you went out into the woods? To learn how to protect yourself in a place where I could not see? All is forgiven, my child!" He enveloped her in his arms and turned to the Sheriff and his men. "I thank you for returning her to me. We shall deal with her disobedience once she has calmed down. Please! Eat! Drink! Be our guest and enjoy my hospitality. With thanks!"
"We believe you harbor a fugitive!" accused the Sheriff, letting Sir Richard know that the act was ringing false. "A man known as Little John, a deserter who broke into the prison and freed the criminal known as Robin Hood."
"Robin Hood?" said the knight. His eyes grew wide with surprise. "Surely that is nothing but the stuff of folk stories and legends. Why, I have heard of Robin Hoods all across the land."
"Those men have heard of his exploits and wish to model themselves after this outlaw!" said the Sheriff. "But I held the real Robin Hood! We captured him in the chapel—"
"Oh, saints preserve you!" said the knight, crossing himself. "Breaking the sanctity of the church!"
"Removing the devil's own from holy ground is doing the Lord's work! I am an instrument of the God Almighty! And serve as his fist of justice!" A murmur of the blasphemy rippled through the onlookers. The Sheriff leaned forward. "We found your niece's horse in the forest. We found it grazing with a beast stolen from my foresters last May by Robin Hood. Our hounds tracked the blood scent of the injured John Little all along the road leading here. I have on good authority from the Abbot William Roundel that John Little traveled with you to St. Mary's Abbey. There are just one too many coincidences. And so, I say that I believe you harbor John Little, one who sinned against the crown of our good King Henry, who abandoned his post, deserted the guard, and is now wanted for murder."
"We found him!" called a guard, clanking into the great hall. "A man over seven-feet tall with an injury to his leg!"
The Sheriff smiled. "I had a suspicion we might find him here."
Sir Richard's face drained of color. "You searched my home without my permission?"
"I am the law, sir, and if you were doing nothing illegal, you would have had nothing to fear opening every door and cupboard to me. Alas..."
He did not finish his sentence. Instead, he motioned to the staircase like a host ushering in actors in a pageant as four guards carried in the delirious Little John. They swept aside the trenchers and goblets on the banquet table, spilling the food upon the floor. Sir Richard cried in protest, but Maid Marian held him back.
Little John moaned feverishly as they lay him on the cleared slab. The Sheriff drew closer and scowled.
"That's the man. That is the nailer I rose up from the depths of poverty and offered a healthy salary for good, honest work. I made him one of my men and how did he repay me? By fighting with my kitchen staff and running away, then attacking innocent people on
the Great Road, and then killing one of my guards." He gripped his fingers into Little John's wound and the giant man screamed in pain. The Sheriff smiled, then tsked and turned to his other soldiers. "Make sure he gets to Nottingham alive. I want him well enough so that I might reinforce upon him again and again what happens to deserters and thieves and murderers." The Sheriff turned to Sir Guy. "We have quite a problem, don't we?"
"That we do," said Sir Guy. "A knight who has acted against the interests of the crown."
"I assure you—" Sir Richard began, drawing himself to his full height.
But the Sheriff was having none of his explanations. "What should we do with a false man who sins against our king?"
Sir Guy stroked his smooth chin. "We must ensure that he does not raise an army. After the instability of the Barons War, it is more important than ever to ensure loyalty."
"I am a servant most loyal to King Henry—"
"Perhaps an incentive to ensure he does not act hastily, something to remind him to think about his actions," stated this Sheriff. He turned with mock thoughtfulness and his vision rested on Sir Richard's niece. "I shall take the Maid Marian as my hostage."
A hush fell over the room. The Sheriff relished in their silent outcry, the fear that thickened the air.
Maid Marian, who had been cowered against her uncle in a show of frailty and fear, looked over her shoulder at the Sheriff, her green eyes razor sharp. All pretense dropped.
"No," said the knight stepping forward. "I fought beside King Richard in the Holy Lands. Should not my years of loyal service to the crown count for something?"
"And that, my dear sir, is why I am not burning your home to the ground," said the Sheriff, leaning his knuckles against the high table. "Make no mistake, you have erred greatly. But you are a loyal subject, you have paid your taxes to me and King Henry. There shall be a stiff penalty, double your fees to me for the next five years, but if you meet that obligation? This may be but a moment in time, soon to be forgotten. And after five years? You shall have your niece back. But if you fail and make your payments in pieces? In pieces, she shall be returned to you."