What am I going to do?
"What are you thinking about?" Robin asks, reaching over to take my hand in his. His thumb strokes the back of my palm.
"Nothing," I lie. How can I explain this to him? That I'm still not exactly who he thinks I am? What would he say if he knew I came from another time? "Just about how much I love you," I add, smiling at him. He squeezes my hand and smiles back. My heart plummets. What am I going to do?
We make camp at nightfall. Some of the villagers have tents, but others make themselves at home on the ground. One village leader offers Robin and me a tent, which at first I refuse. Then he tells me it's his honor to supply it and would be greatly offended if we didn't take the thing. So we do, setting it up a small distance from the rest of the camp.
Robin's exhausted from his ordeal and falls asleep almost immediately. I'm restless though, still thinking about the future, and I toss and turn, wondering what I should do. As if on cue, my cell phone starts vibrating. How does that thing still have battery power? Nimue must have cast some spell on it. I hope if I do have to go back to the 21st century I can keep that spell… I'm always forgetting to charge the stupid thing.
I slip out of the tent so as not to wake Robin, walk out into the field, and answer it.
"Hey, Kat," I greet, for who else could it be?
"Hey, Chrissie. How's it going? Did you work everything out with Robin? Are you still doing the love that dares not speak its name thing, or are you out of the closet, so to speak?"
Wow. I almost drop the phone. "Aren't you going to ask me if King Richard's back with the Holy Grail?" I ask, slightly incredulous.
Kat laughs. "You must really think I'm a selfish witch, huh?" she says.
I immediately feel bad. "No. Well, actually, I used to. But not anymore. Since I've been talking to you via time-cell continuum…well, you've sort of become a friend, actually." And I mean it, too. Though whoever would have thought Kat and I would become bosom buddies?
"Thanks, Chris. That means a lot. I think you're pretty cool yourself. After all, you left everything behind to rescue me, even though you didn't even like me. Not many people would do that, and I'm grateful."
"No problem," I say, feeling it isn't the time to explain that I was sort of forced into going on this mission. "Actually, Kat, I love it here. I'm glad I came."
"Yeah? That's cool. I liked Camelot okay too. But I'll be happy to get home to my own bed. It's been way too long."
"Not me. If I could stay here forever, I would."
"Really?" Kat exclaims. "You like it that much?"
"Yeah. And there's Robin, too. I can't imagine leaving him." I briefly explain all that happened over the last few days. Maid Marian, the battle, me channeling Mel Gibson and Thoreau.
"Wow. You've been a busy girl!" Kat says, sounding impressed. "And now you're leading an army to besiege a castle? Eesh, I thought I was productive learning how to ride a horse!"
I laugh. "Yeah, well, for some reason, medieval life agrees with me."
"Well, hm. Maybe you could stay? I wonder if that's allowed. I mean, it seems stupid to come back to the 21st century if you like it there better, right?"
"But what about the Grail? I have to bring a drop of blood from the Holy Grail back to Nimue so she can bring you back to the 21st century."
"Oh yeah. I forgot about that little detail." Kat's silent for a moment. "I mean, I don't want you to ruin your life to save mine but still. Things are pretty hairy here in the 22nd century. I don't know how long before we've worn out our welcome." She sighs. "Ugh. What to do?"
"Well, don't think of it now," I say. "I'll continue on this mission. Who knows, I may die in this rescue attempt tomorrow, and Nimue will have to get someone else to retrieve the Grail."
"Don't say that, Chrissie. You'll be great, I'm sure. It sounds like you've got a terrific plan there. You'll knock the sheriff on his fat behind."
"Uh, nonviolent protest, remember? Meaning, without violence. No butt-knocking allowed in this campaign." I laugh. "Though, maybe I should make an exception for our dear sheriff. After all, he's probably still sore from that arrow I shot into his rear end."
"Right." Kat giggles. At least she thinks I'm funny. "I totally think you should. In any case, I'll call you tomorrow night. I want to hear all the gory details. Well, maybe not the gory ones. But some details. I think." She laughs. "Anyway, good luck."
We say our good-byes, and I hang up the phone and head back to the camp. I crawl into our tent, hoping for sleep. But Robin's awake.
"Where did you go?" he asks sleepily.
"Just for a walk," I say, slipping my phone in my bag.
"Come here," he says, stretching out his arms. I crawl into his embrace, and he wraps himself around me. I allow myself to melt into him, to take his strength, his love.
He finds my lips and starts kissing me gently. "I have thanked the Lord a thousand times today that he spared your life in the attack."
"Actually, it wasn't the Lord. It was that guy at Locksley that I told you not to kill," I remind him, wanting to force my point home about avoiding senseless murder.
"Fate weaves a complex web indeed," Robin says, separating my curls with his fingers. "And you have great foresight."
"Nah, I'm just a softie," I say.
"Aye, soft and fair." Robin presses his nose to my shoulder and breathes in. "And sweet. So sweet."
"I don't know about sweet." I chuckle. "I could definitely use a bath."
Robin silences me with a kiss, his lips moving against mine, exploring, tasting, sparking an intense ache deep inside me. We haven't made love since that first time in the field. But there's no reason to hold back any longer. I trust him. I love him. And I know he loves me.
He eases me down, laying my head on the coarse, makeshift canvas pillow. Propping himself on his side next to me, he continues to cover my face with soft kisses while his hand traces my body, lightly running over every inch of skin. I moan in pleasure. I've waited so long for another chance to feel his caress. Too long.
He helps me out of my dress, pulling the garment over my head so I'm naked and open to him. Exposed. Vulnerable. But I don't feel any shame. Because the way Robin's eyes take me in, the way his breath catches in his throat, all convinces me beyond a doubt that he thinks I'm the most beautiful girl in the world. And at that moment, I feel like it too.
He looks at me, capturing me with his glow-in-the-dark emerald eyes. Studying my face with an intense curiousness, longing, and love. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. His gaze must be worth ten million. Then he smiles, the sweetest, most gentle, loving smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He playfully leans down to kiss my nose.
"I never knew I could love someone so much," he whispers. "It's terrifying yet wonderful."
I nod, too caught up to speak, a lump in my throat and tears threatening. The overwhelming love I feel for this man, it makes me want to die, right here, right now, so I'll never feel another way again. But then I'd never get the future moments. The joys of life, even the pain. I want to share it all with him. Everything.
And I do.
* * *
"I love you, Robin," I murmur, several breathless minutes later after he has rocked my world yet again. I press my face into his shoulder, squeezing him and not wanting to let him go.
"I love you too, Chrissie," he whispers back, pulling out of my embrace so he can look into my eyes. He smiles down at me, and I want to laugh and cry at the same time. "So much."
Eventually we realize we must separate, and he rolls off of me and onto his back. I cuddle up next to him, my head on his chest, my fingers lightly tracing his stomach hairs.
"I'm worried about tomorrow," I tell him as we lie intertwined in each other's arms. "What if something goes wrong? What if you die? I can't bear the idea of you dying."
He puts a finger to my lips. "No talk of death, Chrissie," he says. "'Tis unlucky. And besides, I'm not going to die. I need to stay alive to take care of yo
u for the rest of your days."
His words sober me. What am I going to do? What if I have to go back? What would he think if I just disappeared off the face of the earth? Would he waste his life searching for me, swearing he'll never love again?
I can't do that to him. I love him too much. I have to tell him the truth. And there's no time like the present—er, past—to tell him about the future.
"Robin, we need to talk," I say cautiously. "There's something I must tell you."
"Anything, love, for 'twill not change how I feel about you."
Hm. I'm not sure about that. But okay, here goes. "This is going to sound strange but…"
"'Tis no stranger than the mystery of love."
"Shh." I shush him with a giggle. "I'm trying to talk here."
He laughs. "Sorry, milady. Please go on."
"You always ask me where I'm really from. And I always tell you a faraway kingdom called Hoboken. Well, Hoboken is very far away. But it's also…um, not of this time."
"I'm afraid I do not understand."
I take a deep breath and let it all spill: "I'm from the future, Robin. Eight hundred-some years in the future, to be exact."
He laughs. "Do not mock me, Chrissie."
"I'm not. I'm serious." I pull from his embrace and sit up. "I'm from the future."
He shakes his head. "You are talking madness. 'Tis impossible."
"I would have agreed with you before it happened to me."
He stares, half amused, half disbelieving. "And were I to believe your wild tale, tell me why did you travel back through time? Just to meet me?" he adds, teasingly.
I shove him. "You wish."
"Then why?"
"It's, um, a long story, actually."
"We have all night."
He's right. And the more details I give him, the easier it will be for him to accept the truth. So I tell him. About the medieval fair. About Kat. About the gypsy. About my destiny supposedly lying in another era. When I'm finished, he still looks skeptical. Not that I blame him. I'm not sure I would believe me either.
"'Tis a fantastic tale," he says. "And I want to believe you, of course…"
"Look," I say, whipping out my cell phone. "This is a phone. And," I rummage through my bag. "Here's a camera."
He studies the 21st-century items with awe.
"Watch, I'll take a photo of you," I hold up the camera and point it at him. The flash in the darkness of our tent makes him jump back in shock.
"What in God's name?"
I motion him over and show him the digital preview. "See, there you are. It's called a camera. In the 21st century my job is to take photos of people."
He stares at the camera, then up at me. "You are telling the truth," he says slowly. "You are truly from the future."
"Yes." I nod. "I truly am."
He stares down at his hands for a moment, and I can almost see smoke coming out of his ears he's thinking so hard. I wait, silent. I figure this is a lot to soak in, and he needs a few minutes.
Finally, he looks up. "Well, I suppose it matters not where you come from," he says, his eyes shining with tenderness. "As long as you are here with me now."
Ugh. Now here comes revelation number two. This is not such a fun discussion.
"Uh, that's the other thing I'm worried about," I admit. "You see, I was sent back for a reason. To bring back a drop of blood from the Holy Grail so that Kat can get herself back from the future. I'm like a courier. So when King Richard shows up and I get the blood, I have to take it back. And I don't know if it's possible, once I get to the 21st century, to return here."
A shadow crosses Robin's face. "You mean, you would leave me?"
"Well, it's not that I'd want to, but—"
"After all we talked about? About love being the most important thing? You would just go and abandon all we have built together?" He sits up in bed, suddenly shoving his feet into his trousers.
"Robin, you've got to understand—"
"No, I do not. I will not." His face darkens with rage. "How can some quest be more important than us being together? You're no better than Marian."
"That's not fair. She chose to leave you. I have no choice."
"There is always a choice. You just have to be willing to accept the consequences. Which clearly you are not."
And with that, he scrambles to his feet and exits the tent. I bolt after him, desperate to convince him that I want nothing more than to stay. Doesn't he see what a bad position I'm in? It's not like this is my fault, my choice. There are more people than just me involved in this. Kat, Lancelot, Guenevere. I can't just abandon them in the future because I fell in love, can I?
I want to run after him but realize I'm stark naked. The time it takes for me to throw on my dress gives him enough leeway to make his escape. My heart aches in my chest as I watch him jump on a horse and gallop off. Where is he going? Just to clear his head? To get away from me? Hopefully he'll return in the morning. We need him for this scheme. I need him for so much more.
Part of me now wishes I'd never told him the truth. But no, it's been a secret for far too long. He deserves to know. But now I've inadvertently hurt him. Led him to believe I don't care about him as much as I really do.
What am I going to do?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I can't sleep. I think part of me is hoping Robin will come back, crawl into the tent, take me in his arms, and say he realizes what a complicated position I'm in and will support me in any decision I make. But, of course, this doesn't happen. Instead I toss and turn, alternating between sweaty hot and freezing cold. It's almost as if I'm sick. I guess I am, in a way. At least my heart is.
At dawn, I crawl out of the tent and walk over to the cooking fire. Most of the peasants are already awake and preparing to break down camp and head to the castle. I scan the area but see no sign of Robin.
"Has anyone seen Robin Hood?" I ask around, getting the same answer each time.
Not since last night.
Where is he? How can he just take off? Sure he's mad at me, but don't his people matter? Little John, Tuck, Will Scarlet—they're all to be hanged by mid-morning if we don't rescue them. Isn't that more important than a lovers' quarrel?
I square my shoulders. While I want nothing more than to run back into my tent and cry my eyes out, I know I have to be strong. These people need a leader. Robin might be gone now, but I have no doubt he'll follow through with his plan to save his men, and he'll need the diversion I've planned to do it.
"Okay, let's get everything packed up," I announce. "Next stop, Nottingham Castle!"
The peasants cheer, waving their hands in the air. They're ready to sit and shout and dance for freedom. God, I hope this isn't going to be another massacre.
But as a leader, I can't let any doubt show. "For England!" I cry. "For freedom!"
Cheers all around. At the very least they're now on the Braveheart bandwagon.
We head out, marching to the castle. Soon we see it looming in the distance. It looks bigger than I remember. More foreboding. As we get closer, I can see archers on the rooftops, ready to fire on anyone who gets too close.
I turn back to look at the villagers and swallow hard. Okay, here goes nothing.
"Everybody sit!" I order.
Everyone does. Hundreds of men, women, and children all plop down on their butts in sync. I lower myself to the ground, suddenly realizing I should have brought a blanket or something. The ground's soaking with dew.
"Okay, now some of you get up and dance," I order. "And some of you sing at the top of your lungs."
The villagers comply, and soon we're having what looks like a medieval Burning Man festival in front of Nottingham Castle. I look up at the walls. The guards have multiplied, and they're watching closely, probably confused as all hell.
But then the drawbridge starts to lower.
My breath catches in my throat as I see armored men on horseback behind the drawbridge, ready to march. Have they merely b
een sent to see what's going on, or are they going to kill us all? Is my plan a success or a complete disaster?
The mounted soldiers gallop across the drawbridge and onto the field. The villagers start murmuring in fright, frantically searching for their makeshift weapons—pitchforks, staves, shovels…
"No!" I cry. "Keep singing and dancing and sitting. Do not give them reason to attack you!"
The soldiers are getting closer. I swallow hard. Please let this work. Please let this work.
Suddenly, the soldiers start pointing at us, backing away, almost as if they're frightened.
The mounted knights struggle to maintain holds on their horses that are bucking with fear. Then the leader gives an order, and they all turn tail and gallop back behind the castle walls.
Are they afraid of us? How could they be afraid of us? It doesn't make sense.
I turn to see what the fuss is about and suddenly realize why the castle guards are fleeing. They're not scared of my peaceful protest. They're scared of the huge royal army behind us, brandishing flags with an orange lion emblazoned on them. King Richard has returned! And evidently he's ready to kick butt rather than sit on it.
The best part? Robin's with him. And he's looking at me with a huge grin on his face.
* * *
If life were like a Lord of the Rings book, this is the part where there'd be a fifty-page über-boring battle scene. No offense to LOTR fans—hey, I like Legolas as much as the next girl—but this castle's run by sniveling Prince John, not the Lord Sauron, and so they give in pretty easily. Most of the prince's guards formerly served King Richard anyway, and they aren't about to remain on the obvious losing side. A few of the sheriff's men put up a bit of a fight but nothing that a royal army and a flock of peasants can't handle.
It turns out that Prince John is actually overjoyed that his brother is home, and he gladly hands over the throne, declaring he'll now have much more time for his embroidery. The sheriff's arrested and thrown into the dungeon until he can be tried for treason. So is Maid Marian. No more jewels and fancy gowns for her! Not that I'm gloating or anything. Well, maybe just a bit.
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