Olde Robin Hood

by Kate Danley

  "She is barely more than a child," said Sir Richard. "Allow her to at least take a female companion to keep her company."

  "Two hostages? Well, that is most generous of you, Sir Richard, and shall be noted in my report. She shall be treated with the utmost dignity and respect, I assure you," spoke the Sheriff, his voice cloying and oily. "She is not a prisoner. She is our honored guest and shall be kept as if my own daughter." The Sheriff raised a finger. "Unless you misbehave. In which case, her life and honor are forfeit."

  Maid Marian drew herself to her full height and placed her hand upon Sir Richard's, stopping his protests. "I shall go, uncle," she said, disdain dripped from every word. "I go willingly as a hostage and shall stay gladly in Nottingham Castle at the mercy of King Henry."

  "My darling—" the knight began to speak.

  She cut him off. Her face was stony and cold, making clear there would be no groveling or begging. She would not give the Sheriff the pleasure of her tears or pain. Instead, she fixed on the Sheriff as she spoke, not an ounce of fear in her words. "Allow me to gather my things."

  "My!" said the Sheriff, mocking her as he pranced around the room. "Such regal elegance! She will do so well in court. Perhaps we shall also have to discuss strategic alliances as a way to save your honor, Sir Richard." He motioned to Sir Guy of Gisborne. "My dear friend here is in need of a wife."

  Maid Marian's hands clenched, but there was not a crack in her dignity. "My life belongs to God and to King Henry," Maid Marian challenged. "King Henry alone can give my hand as he sees fit to fulfill the wishes of our God. I answer to no power below them."

  "She is feisty, isn't she?" purred the Sheriff to Guy. "You would have quite a task to tame this one."

  Robin's anger flared. He fought the urge to crack the pitcher he was holding across the back of the Sheriff and Sir Guy's skull. He reminded himself to be patient. Like a hunter, he needed to get closer to his prey if he hoped to kill.

  But damn the Sheriff of Nottingham. Damn Sir Guy of Gisborne. And damn himself for stealing from Abbot William Roundel and going to the church where the man peddled his lies. And for poaching a deer and stealing a horse from the foresters so long ago. If it had not been for his rashness, if he had only acted with intent and purpose instead of impulse, none of this would have happened. No one would be in danger.

  As Maid Marian slowly walked away, her eyes flitted across the crowd. Like magnets drawing across space, they locked on Robin. She could not allow them to rest on his face longer than a moment lest she give him away, but in that moment, there was a promise. She would risk her life to save them, but in return, she needed Robin to risk his to save hers.

  And with whole his heart, Robin swore he would.

  He had to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The Sheriff and his company left within the hour, opting to return to their camp rather than stay another moment beneath Sir Richard's roof. Robin heard the guards murmur the Sheriff feared an escape attempt to free John Little and Maid Marian.

  It was well founded.

  Robin scrapped his plan as he watched the party depart from his hiding place in a shadowy staircase. True to his word, the Sheriff allowed Marian to bring along a servant. Even so, she rode along under the lecherous guard of Guy of Gisborne. Robin's stomach tied in angry knots.

  Sir Richard stood at the top of the battlement, watching them go until the last. Robin allowed him the privacy and silence of his thoughts. He would not take away this last moment from a man who might never see his niece again.

  But when Sir Richard finally turned, Robin bounded up the narrow, stone steps to the top of the curtain wall. The knight gave a tender but sad smile, then looked out at the farmhouses dotting the countryside. The glimmers of their glowing hearths lit the landscape like fireflies, trailing off into the woods where Marian had been stolen. "I shall write to the king tomorrow. I shall explain to him the terrible cruelties of the Sheriff of Nottingham. He shall hear my petition."

  "I swear I will free her and bring her back to you," Robin promised, fierce in his oath. "No matter what the cost."

  Sir Richard shook his head and stopped him. "Even if it means the loss of your friend? Your brother-in-arms? The man who was injured because he risked everything for you? Do not be foresworn. You owe him the debt of your life. You may only be able to save one." He gripped Robin's shoulder. "It should be your friend John Little. My niece will live, even if it is a miserable existence. And who knows, perhaps she will be freed. Perhaps you will free her later! But your friend's life is forfeit because of you, and you must pay back that trust."

  Robin tried to find the words to protest, but Sir Richard's words struck him like a blow to the chest, shaking him with the deadly stakes.

  "I am only here because of your kindness," the knight reminded him. "I would have lost it all if not for you and Little John. That is another trust which must be preserved."

  Robin steeled his resolve. "I will save Maid Marian. Even if it is as you fear and I cannot free her now, I will bring her back someday."

  "Ah!" said Sir Richard. His voice broke with sadness. "That you may not do. If you bring her home, the Sheriff will know that I was behind it. It will bring the wrath of King Henry upon us. The king will seize my lands and it will have all been for nothing. It is an impossible situation. Take her to a nunnery," said the knight. Then a strange look formed on his face. "Or... wherever she... and you... might want to go."

  Robin realized what the knight was proposing. It was as if Sir Richard could see into his heart. He spoke of a secret Robin had not dared to acknowledge, a wish that he never believed could even be considered.

  Slowly, Robin said, "If I took her to a convent, it might place the sisters in danger."

  "Perhaps," said the knight, smiling warmly.

  Robin continued delicately, praying he had not misunderstood Sir Richard and that he was not about to make a terrible transgression. "But... if I were to invite her to stay in the forest with me, then we would be the only ones in danger..."

  Sir Richard nodded, relieving Robin of his worry and buoying him with hope. "It is a hard life, and one she must grant. She is a strong girl and will only ever do what she chooses, but if it is an idea to your liking and hers, know that you have my blessing." The knight placed his hands on Robin's shoulders. "I shall behave as the Sheriff told me I should and I shall go through life assuming she is still held as a hostage. If you happen to see her, if you can help her to gain her freedom, send a message, so when things change, because they always do, I shall know where to find her." The knight then turned away. "But if you fail, know that all is as it should be. We had a tyrant for a king in John, and now we have a mere child in Henry. He has done right to uphold the Magna Carta, to invite the barons to support him over the French. But he is still young, barely seventeen. Not even your age, Robin! We shall have to endure the chokehold of this Sheriff, I am afraid, for a long time still to come."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Robin exchanged his clothing once more, but this time from serving boy to peasant, and made to leave at first light. Though Sir Richard had pressed him the night before to take one of his finest horses, Robin chose an old nag to preserve the illusion of his disguise.

  As he walked into the stable, Robin stopped. The swayback mare had been discretely packed with provisions for him.

  It was odd to have someone extend that sort of paternal concern for him. A gentle smile crept across his face.

  Sir Richard had raided his own armory for useful weapons. Leaning against the wall was a small bow and quiver, a sword and dagger, and the now laundered and neatly folded uniform Robin had stolen from the dead guard. He crouched down, gingerly touched the crest on the tabard, fearful of drowning in the memories tied to it. But today, it was just fabric. Today, it was a tool that could help him get inside Nottingham Castle. Nothing more.

  Robin rocked back on his heels, realizing that to do what he needed to do, he was going to have to be more
than his past.

  And for the first time, he thought that might be possible.

  For Little John and Marian, it was possible.

  Robin rode out, the world blanketed in the soft pinks of morning. As he went by the small farms, there were signs the inhabitants were starting to stir. He gazed over his shoulder. Sir Richard stood silhouetted on the top of the stronghold wall and he lifted his arm in farewell. He stood as a witness until the trees of the forest blocked him from sight.

  Though the Sheriff's party was ahead, Robin quieted the fear that whispered he would be too late. He reminded himself he knew the woods better than even the foresters. The sound of their horses and stomping feet would mask his noise. He pushed himself to close the gap between them, not knowing what he would actually do if he did catch up. All he could hope for was an opportunity. His mind wandered as the hours passed. He began devising plans for moving Little John if he was only semi-conscious and how he might be able to free Maid Marian if she was under guard.

  But he was so focused on tracking his prey, he forgot to pay attention to his own surroundings.

  And the hunter became the hunted.

  A noise startled Robin.

  He pulled up on his nag's reins.

  Ten men came out of the bramble. They all had bows and swords drawn. Rough and filthy, worn and unkempt, it was clear they had spent too many days in the forest.

  Robin knew riding his sorry steed in threadbare clothes, he made a sight almost as sad as the men trying to rob him. Still, he drew himself to his full height. "I am on a sworn mission, my friends," he stated. "I am Robin Hood."

  The group laughed and pointed at one another. One said, "We're all Robin Hood."

  "No," reiterated Robin, introducing himself again to the band of highwaymen in the hopes there might be the bonds of kinship. "I am Robin. Hood."

  The merriment began to settle down as they realized the weight of his words. A second man stepped forward. "The real Robin Hood? The man the Sheriff keeps sending out rewards for? The one with the nice price on his head?"

  "We've been turning in every drunken soldier we've found and told the bailiff we discovered Robin Hood!" said another. "You'll be a pretty penny for us if you are who you say you are."

  The men closed in around him. One seemed to be measuring the risk of reaching out to grab the halter of Robin's horse. Panic rose. Robin knew he could not allow himself to be taken.

  His heart tripled its beat.

  The small window of light above, seen from the bottom of his cell, flashed before his eyes.

  And then, he pushed all the panic away.

  His friends were depending on him.

  Robin held up his hands as a clarity of purpose cut through his fear. "What if I promised you more wealth than anything the Sheriff is offering?"

  The group began to scoff. Their disbelieving titters spread out around the circle.

  "You really must've robbed as many people as they say you did, but not exactly distributed it to the poor if you've got that sort of money just lyin' about," said one, flapping his toothless gums.

  A burly, bearded brute taunted, "Certainly don't have it on you. What? You got it all shoved up a tree?"

  More disbelieving laughs rippled through the crowd.

  "Not what I have," said Robin, conspiringly. "But money I'm about to seize."

  "Money you're about to seize? What are you stealing?" asked a hooded man in the back. He seemed to command some respect from the men and the scoffs were replaced with murmurs of lecherous curiosity.

  "My friend, Little John, has been arrested by the Sheriff and taken back to Nottingham," stated Robin.

  "You'd best kiss your friend goodbye," said a piggy-faced man with greasy skin.

  Robin leaned forward in his saddle, as if sharing a secret. One by one, the men began lowering their swords. "There is a gentlewoman on the inside who can get us into Nottingham Castle," confided Robin.

  "Truly?"

  Robin gave them his most winning and cunning smile, the one he had learned from his cousin Will. "She has a score to settle and will aid us if I go there."

  The first man was starting to get the drift of what Robin was saying. "You're telling me that you want to storm Nottingham Castle? That big fortress on the hill? One of the strongest fortifications in all of England since William the Conqueror came in and started building towers?"

  "Once in, I will free my friend and free the lady, and if it goes to plan, free the treasury, too. It will be laid open for any man with me." Robin looked at them one-by-one, challenging them each individually to prove him wrong. "Have you not heard my name? Have you not listened to the tales of what I have already done? And here you are doubting me. You have an opportunity to join me. I think the only question you should be asking yourself is if your arms are strong enough to carry all the gold and silver I'm about to take."

  "Gold..." whispered the toothless man.

  The leader stopped them, trying to take control of the situation. "You want us to help you break into the Sheriff of Nottingham's castle?"

  "It's not his castle," Robin reminded him. "It is good King Henry's castle, a fact the Sheriff likes to ignore." The men start to sway and soften. "Are you not tired of the Sheriff's boot pressing down on your neck? Are you not tired of your loved ones starving and dying, you being forced into lawlessness because of laws that are not just, but serve the greed of this man?" Robin reached out his hand. "Will you not join me, my friends?"

  They gathered together and talked quietly. Robin fought the instinct to take advantage of their distraction and spur his horse on, leaving them behind. But finally, they came to an agreement and turned to face Robin.

  The leader reached out and clasped his forearm in friendship. "We are a merry crew, perhaps not hardened and battle-tested as you would like, but we're yours. We give you our skills to command."

  One of the men shouted, "Watch out! Our skills managed to get us exiled."

  The leader waved him down and quieted the laughter. "We were knights and noblemen, thrown out after siding with the barons against King John." One man looked at the other and shook his head. "To think of a king not honoring the very agreement he signed, to ignore the Magna Carta which he sealed with his own hands."

  "Aye," added the burly one. "And King Henry was a whelp when he rose to the throne. What, a nine-year-old when he took the crown? Still... we rebelled by siding with the barons. 'Tis treason. Even if it was for right."

  "Must say," said the piggy-faced man, "I still think we're on the right side of history fighting for the law of the land rather than a tyrant."

  The leader of their group nodded. "All we want is the same as you, to stop those who crush us, those who build castles on the hill and keep the deer while our children starve. If you can help us get closer to returning home, we are your men."

  Robin knew the opportunity to liberate Little John and Maid Marian on the road was gone. He could not marshal these men into a battle of hand-to-hand combat without the reward of Nottingham Castle's riches. They would not engage in anything that might make their exile worse.

  But as Robin considered at the men, seeing the desperation he knew too well mirrored in their faces, he believed for the first time there might be a chance of doing something mighty.

  Sherwood Forest, once again, had provided exactly what he needed.

  "Well," said Robin, pulling his bow from his back. "A man cannot take on Nottingham Castle on an empty stomach. What say you that we right those wrongs now and hunt some of the deer King Henry rightfully owes his people? Let me take you to my camp, where I have goods and silver aplenty. My home shall be your home, and tonight we shall feast like royalty."

  Creeping smiles flitted across the faces of the band of treasonous thieves.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The soldiers sat in the brewhouse, their tables tucked into the quiet, sandstone hollows in the soft rock. Robin wiped down the tables, his rough, dirty clothes causing the soldiers to sh
y away and dismiss him.

  "We should have set that stronghold ablaze and danced in the ashes of that traitor. Locked that Sir Richard in and set it alight," said one soldier to the other. "And now that red witch is dining with the Sheriff in Nottingham Castle?"

  "Bet she cast a spell. Bet that's why he's being so soft."

  "Wait till King Henry hears of it."

  Robin's hand faltered and he fought to keep his eyes downcast.

  "Are you done yet?" snapped one of the soldiers. "You're wiping that same spot for ten minutes. You'll wear a hole through the table."

  "Pardon! Pardon!" Robin said as he bobbed and ticked his shoulder. He allowed a string of drool to fall from his lip.

  "Touched," said one soldier darkly to the other, tapping the side of his head with one finger.

  "Should have been drowned at birth."

  Robin moved on to the table beside them, shuffling his feet and mumbling "pardon" softly as he worked, becoming invisible once more to the soldiers.

  "So, did you find the silver?" asked the other soldier, leaning in, his teeth dirty and foul. "Did they break that John Little yet? Has he said where to find Robin Hood's hoard?"

  "Not yet," said the first. "But I'm sure it won't be long. We've got commands to prepare the village green for a hanging."

  "When?"

  "No official word. Sometime this week." The soldier took a long gulp from his tankard and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Can you believe they expect us to double the guard and put together a whole plan when they don't even have a date?"

  "Those officers sit there telling us to jump and expect us to ask how high."

  "But Sir Guy says that Robin will come. We'll be waiting." The soldier tipped back in his seat. "He won't know what hit him..."

  The hairs on the back of Robin's neck went up along with a sense he was being watched. Surreptitiously, he looked to the side.