by Anna Burke
“You know no words need be said before me. Any pact made in sight of the Lord is binding.”
“I know,” said Marian. Robyn gave her assent with a nod and a squeeze of Marian’s hand.
“Do you take each other in our most sacred of covenants?”
Marian looked into Robyn’s eyes and searched for the flecks of green that reminded her of the way sunlight filtered through the summer leaves. She wondered if she should be feeling scared or uncertain at the magnitude of what they were about to do. Even if her father and the church never recognized this marriage as binding—and they would not—she’d take these vows in the eyes of her God. He would know, and the knowledge filled her heart with a joy so immense she thought she might burst, light spilling out of her into the church. This felt right in a way nothing else ever had. Robyn’s callused hands gripped hers, and she smiled as she spoke the words.
“I do.”
They each repeated the words three times, and with each utterance the joy within her grew as she expanded to contain it.
“Have you prepared any vows?” asked Tuck.
They hadn’t had time. Marian hadn’t even known what she was going to do until she’d heard Robyn’s speech.
“Yes,” said Robyn, startling her out of her thoughts. “I swear to love you from this day and for all my days, and I swear, too, to trust that you know your own mind. I will not try to choose your path for you, and I will walk that path with you for as long as you want me by your side. In this way, and in all ways, I am yours.”
Tuck’s eyes crinkled at the corners. She waited for Marian, who couldn’t breathe. She wanted to wrap her arms around Robyn and hold her so close she forgot where she ended and Robyn began, but the expectancy in the air grounded her.
“I . . .” she began, uncertain, and then the words flowed out of her. “I vow to love you, come winter or spring, beneath these trees or beneath this earth, until our souls meet again in the next world. I will keep our home—even if it is a cave—filled with light and happiness. I will care for you and comfort you in times of pain and trouble. I will love you as no one on this earth has loved you, and I will do so with a glad heart, for I shall know myself strong within your love.”
“Amen,” pronounced Tuck. “Now let’s have some mead and get our archer off her feet before she faints again.” She steered them firmly toward a bench. They sat, and Marian nestled into Robyn as the others gathered around them. Emmeline smiled at Marian with an understanding she realized had been there for years, far longer than Willa’s suspicions, and longer even than she’d understood herself.
“The sheriff will come for you again,” Emmeline said quietly. “And when he does, I’ll be there to hide you.”
The sound of barking dogs filled her memory. “I don’t think he will,” Marian said, and sadness crept in to dim some of her joy as she accepted the truth she’d known since she’d heard the alaunts baying for blood through the caves. “I think he’ll say I died in the forest at the hands of outlaws.” Robyn’s arm tightened around her, and Marian knew Robyn understood the price she had paid for her freedom.
“You still have family,” said Emmeline in a fierce voice.
The others nodded, and Midge gave her an appraising look. “I’ve never lived with a lady before. Do you snore?”
“If she does, it will only be to drown you out,” said Robyn. Then she turned to Marian. “Do you snore?”
“Sometimes she does,” said Emmeline. “But I promise she stops if you kick her.”
The sharp edge of Marian’s loss receded at the playful teasing, and she scowled at Emmeline in mock outrage.
“We’ll have to teach her to shoot,” John said to Robyn. “She can act as lookout with Lisbet for now.”
“She’s not a terrible shot,” said Willa. “Not as good as you, of course, but I’ve seen her take down a rabbit from horseback once or twice.”
“I think I might be able to hit you from here, in fact. And I won’t even need a bow.” Marian couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice. No matter what happened next, she’d found, at last, a place where she belonged.
Six Weeks Later
Robyn crouched behind the thick trunk of a beech tree. A wagon wound laboriously through the stand of oaks between her and the road, the bridle of the cart horse jingling in the still summer air. Two mounted guards rode alongside it. Both held crossbows loosely at their side, lulled by the soporific quality of the afternoon. Only the forest insects seemed keen on making their industrious presence known.
Across the road Robyn knew Lisbet waited with her slingshot primed and her young eyes trained on the nearest horse’s flank. Tom and Will crouched near her, while John, Alanna, and Marian accompanied Robyn. This was their fourth tax strike, and news of the fresh forest threat had not yet reached the manors on the far side. Had it, Robyn knew the guards would never have allowed themselves the luxury of drifting off in the saddle.
She whistled. The bird call drifted over the still air in a series of trills and warbles that often fooled the real birds it mimicked. She didn’t see Lisbet move, but the horse on the far side of the road snapped its head up as a small stone stung its haunches. Its rider struggled to maintain control, and his struggle distracted the other guard long enough for everyone but Lisbet, who would remain in the trees for her own safety despite the girl’s protests, to step into the road.
Robyn, Marian, John, and Tom held longbows, their arrows trained on the guards. At this distance, even Marian, whose delicate palms and finger pads now bore the blisters of practice with both bow and staff, couldn’t miss. Will’s naked sword glinted in the sunlight and Alanna’s throwing knives rested easily in her hands. The guards froze. Even the startled horse paused its sidestepping and head tossing to eye the outlaws ranged across the road ahead.
“Good afternoon, worthy men,” said Robyn in as cheerful a voice as she could muster. She’d found that unsettled men liked this more than outright aggression. “Drop your crossbows. You won’t be needing them today.”
One of the guards—there was always an idiot like him—raised his weapon to take a shot. Lisbet’s next stone took him in the back of the head. He pitched forward in the saddle and the quarrel went wide, zinging its way into the trees. Robyn smiled. The illusion of even more outlaws lurking in the shadows also served their cause.
“Drop it,” she said, “or the next thing that hits you won’t be so gentle.”
“How do we know you won’t just kill us?”
“Because I’m Robyn Hood.”
The driver, who had so far kept himself as small as possible on the seat, leaned forward with a look of interest.
“Who in God’s name is Robyn Hood?” asked the guard.
“He’s the one they’re singing about,” said the driver. “I heard it last time I was in town. They say he never misses, but he only shoots when necessary.”
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. “We’re on the king’s business,” the one nearest Robyn said. The other rubbed the back of his head with a glassy expression.
“Funny you should mention that. So are we,” said Robyn. “The way we see it, a king should protect his people, not beggar them.”
“Fuck I know about it,” said the injured guard.
“Tell you what.” Robyn adopted a conspiratorial tone. “I know you don’t get paid shit for this work. We could kill you all right now and take everything, and where would you be then? But, if you cooperate, we’ll leave you with a little extra for your trouble. You just tell the sheriff outlaws took everything they could carry, and he won’t ask any questions about what you might have in your purse.”
“To hell with it.” The injured guard dropped his empty crossbow to the dirt. “Do it, Ben. I want to get home to Lise tonight.”
“Smart man,” said John.
The second guard hesitated for another moment, then tossed his own weapon to the ground.
“Dismount, if you’d be so kind. I don’t fancy getting run over,” Roby
n told them.
The men obeyed and handed their horses over to Alanna, who led them off the path and looped their reins over a branch.
“Sit down by Will Scarlet over there. He’s the one with the sword. You can leave your weapons by your horses. That’s it, just take off your sword belts. No need to take anything out of the sheath. You’re safe with us now.”
John and Tom approached the wagon. The driver shrank back from them, but John shook his head. “We’re not going to hurt you. Hop on down and go sit with your friends.”
“Seeds, coin, and ale,” said Tom as he peered at the cargo.
“Ale’s for the sheriff himself,” one of the men said.
“Might take a piss in it then,” said John as he leapt over the side of the wagon. He heaved several sacks of grain out of the back, followed by four sacks of coin. “Coin was in the grain. Clever.”
“Let’s grab a bit of that ale, too.” Robyn edged around the wagon and tossed a grin at Marian over her shoulder. Marian’s hood shadowed her face and kept her dark braid hidden, but Robyn could see her full lips curve.
She assessed the goods in the dust. They needed to move quickly now, before anyone else came down the road. Tom and John could carry a sack of grain apiece. The rest of them could manage the coin easily, and they’d rigged a way of carrying heavier items between two of them using a litter. That would cover the ale she intended to drink later in celebration.
“We’ll leave two purses. That should keep the queen happy.”
“I doubt it,” said Will.
“Don’t bother,” said the driver. “The prince has declared himself the rightful king. The queen will never see a shilling of it.”
Robyn met John’s eyes and nodded. “In that case, we’ll leave him something to drown his sorrows.” She hopped into the back of the wagon and uncorked all but two of the casks. Ale trickled through the slats and onto the thirsty earth, where it pooled around the wheels.
“Where are you coming from?” she asked as she landed lightly in the ale mud.
“Maunnesfeld.”
Will didn’t so much as blink at the mention of her home.
“And how is our lord of Maunnesfeld?” asked John.
“Hale and whole.”
“Glad to hear it.” Robyn picked up one of the purses and scattered a handful of coins over the ground. The guards and the driver would have to work to find them all, which would buy Robyn and her band time to make their escape. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. See to it that the driver gets his share, won’t you? Or else next time, it won’t be a rock that hits you in the ear.”
The men grumbled their agreement.
“Give our regards to the sheriff,” said John. He heaved two of the sacks over his shoulder, and Tom followed suit. Blacksmiths had their uses. Marian and Alanna lifted an ale cask together. Will remained standing guard over the men while the rest of the band carried off the goods to the litters waiting in the trees with Lisbet. Robyn kept an arrow trained on the men as well. She took no chances.
John’s whistle came a few seconds later. Will backed away while Robyn covered her. “Bill,” Robyn said, speaking to the imaginary outlaw they’d invented for this purpose. “Stay here and keep an eye on them. If it looks like they might come after us, shoot this one first.” She pointed at the injured guard with her arrow. He paled.
They slipped away through the trees in single file. Tom and John shared one litter, and Alanna and Will shared the other. Lisbet led the way, followed by Marian, who had the bags of coin slung over her shoulder in a sack. Robyn took the rear. She kept an arrow at the ready in case the men decided to pursue them, but she wasn’t worried. When push came to shove, fear of immediate death almost always won out over fear of future retribution. She hoped the sheriff didn’t punish the men too harshly when they arrived in Nottingham.
The afternoon wore on as they picked their way along the forest paths. Robyn switched out with Will, who had become almost as adept at moving quietly as Robyn, and enjoyed the burn in her arms from the weight of the grain. That burn meant Maunnesfeld’s serfs would eat.
She called a halt at the outskirts of Edwinstowe. The villagers surrounding the priory might turn a blind eye, but that was another risk she wasn’t willing to take. Breathing deeply in the twilight, she hooted.
Midge’s answering hoot floated over the sound of crickets and tree frogs, accompanied by Midge herself, a donkey pulling a small cart, and Yvette, who had made her way to Edwinstowe shortly after Robyn. According to Gwyneth, Yvette had taken one look at Tuck and decided to stay—along with the dog, who she forgave for savaging her arm after it defended her from an angry boar on her journey—to offer the nuns additional protection. Now, the brigand rarely left Tuck’s side and, while her devotion to the Lord might be suspect, no one doubted her devotion to the prioress.
“Good haul?” Midge asked as she ducked into the shadows where they stood. The donkey lipped at a low-hanging branch, and Yvette scowled. Some things, at least, remained the same.
“See for yourself.”
Midge surveyed the loot approvingly. “I just got back from Papplewick. My father’s willing to mill the grain for us, and Tuck and I came up with a better way of getting coin around.”
“What?”
“Baking it. A shilling a loaf.”
“Midge,” said Robyn, pulling her cousin into a hug. “You’re brilliant.”
“I know.” Midge squirmed out of the embrace and turned to Alanna. “They’re singing about us everywhere.”
“Good,” Alanna said. “How is the sheriff taking it?”
“He’s furious, of course, but he’s too busy with the prince’s revolt to do much about it at the moment. Have you heard?”
“One of our new friends told us after we relieved them of their burden,” said John. “So it’s true?”
“As I live and breathe.”
“Will he make a stand here?” asked Will. Robyn could see her mind beginning to weigh the strategic pros and cons of Nottingham castle.
Midge shrugged.
“We’ll need to prepare ourselves,” said John.
“Not necessarily,” said Marian. “Midge is right. They’ll be too focused on the throne to think about outlaws.”
Robyn considered her wife. Wife. It still didn’t seem real, nor could she believe that they’d committed any sin. Loving Marian felt too much like an answered prayer. That, and Marian’s intuition had proved invaluable as they planned their strategy for the coming months. She rivaled even Will in her ability to guess the motives and reactions of the sheriff’s men.
“Any chance that ale is for us?” asked Yvette.
“As soon as we’re in the priory.”
“Right. Here.” Midge reached under the canvas covering the back of the cart and pulled out seven habits and cloaks.
“I hate this part,” said Tom. “It’s all very well for you to dress like men. Our clothes are comfortable.”
“But you look so fetching,” said John as he pulled the stiff wool on over his clothes. The habits were winter weight, but if they protected Tuck from suspicion, a little sweat was a price Robyn was happy to pay. They loaded the goods into the cart along with their weapons.
“Let’s go get you drunk, little one,” John said to Midge.
“We’ll catch up,” Marian said as the group split. “To avoid suspicion.”
“Sure.” Will smirked at Marian before following Midge, who had broken into song. Robyn and Marian watched them leave in silence.
“I’m sorry about Richard,” Robyn said when she was sure the cart and their friends had made it safely to the priory. “I know you were close.”
“He favored me on the rare occasions he bothered sleeping on English soil.” Marian shook her head. “I thought him a friend before I knew what true friends were.”
“And now?”
“Now he is merely a king, and I,” she paused to give Robyn a slow kiss, “am the Lady of Sherwood.”
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“What does that make me, m’lady?”
Marian considered her. “Who you’ve always been: Robyn.”
“That hardly seems fair.”
“But you’re my Robyn. Isn’t that worth something?”
Luck favors the rich, little bird, whispered Michael. Robyn smiled. She understood now that she’d always been rich in the ways that mattered. “I suppose, since I can’t have a castle, that I’ll settle for that.”
“You don’t want a castle. Very drafty, lots of upkeep, and always too many people about. I much prefer our cave.”
“You don’t regret it then? Choosing this?”
Marian pressed her lips to Robyn’s before speaking. “I’ve never been happier.”
They walked into view of the priory some time later. The sounds of the village settling in for the night drifted past them, along with the rustling and calls of the forest animals. In the darkness, silvered only by the light of the distant stars, Marian took Robyn’s hand.
Acknowledgments
Nottingham was the first book-length project I ever attempted. The first draft, circa 2014, is a very different story from this one, and I have quite a few people to thank for that. First and foremost my wife, who has read more versions of this story than anyone, and who has put up with a seemingly endless cycle of “I’m burning it for real this time,” followed by, “what if I tried working on Nottingham again?”
Secondly, to the team at Bywater Books, who supported this project through all its (many) bumps and believed it had a place in our literature, and to my editor, Elizabeth Sims, who helped me find my way out of the woods (figurative and literal—she made me draw a map). Ann McMan of Treehouse Studio has, once again, outdone herself with the cover. This will come as no surprise to those who know her work.
My early readers—you are my band of merry people. Rachel, Samara, Alessandra—this book is better because of you, and your emotional support was (and is) critical to my writing.