by Shea, K. M.
“How would you like to have a temporary change in careers?”
“Sounds fun. What job shall it be today?”
“Bishop. See if you can fit in our dear bishop’s over robes,” I challenged.
Little John stripped the outer robes off the bishop with Will Scarlet’s help. As the Bishop shouted insults at us Little John poured himself into the robe. The sleeves stopped just past his elbows, and he could not button the top buttons because of his broad shoulders and chest. He could button the ones at his belly, but the bishop was a fat man so it was saggy there where Little John was trim and fit. Finally, the robes stopped just at his knees. He looked like a grown man trying to squeeze into childhood play clothes.
My Merry Men and were nearly rolling on the ground. Little John shook his clothes and tried to look ridiculously dignified.
“Cry them, Little John,” I said, the only one who did not find the situation immensely funny. I was more worried about being struck dead for such desecration.
“Yes sir,” Little John said with false pride. He cried them, three times, as was tradition. “Announcing the marriage of Alan-A-Dale and… Ellen! Announcing the marriage of Alan-A-Dale and Lady Ellen! Announcing the marriage of Alan-A-Dale and Lady Ellen!” Little John bellowed, flapping his arms in the ill fitting robe before stopping. “I don’t think that was enough,” he concluded.
“Really? I think it was plenty,” I said. Little John had a loud voice, and the church was squat next to Nottinghamshire village. Any patrolling soldiers would be sure to hear him.
“I think I’ll do it again. Announcing the glorious marriage of Alan-A-Dale and Lady Ellen! Announcing the divine marriage of the good Alan-A-Dale and the beautiful Lady Ellen!”
“Alright Little John,” I nervously laughed, even as the rest of my men slapped their knees and wiped tears of laughter out of their eyes.
“Announcing the divinely inspired marriage of the good minstrel, Alan-A-Dale, and the beautiful Lady Ellen!”
“They hardly need to be cried six times Little John,” Will Scarlet snickered.
“Announcing the wonderfully divinely inspired marriage of the good minstrel, Alan-A-Dale, and the beautiful Lady Ellen, performed by Friar Tuck!”
“THANK YOU Little John,” I shouted, keeping him from continuing. “I’m sure the rest of the Merry Men in Sherwood heard you. Let’s move on.”
Some of the Merry Men, headed by Will Stutely once he returned, guarded the fat knight and the Bishop in the churchyard.
Much, Will Scarlet, and Little John, with his Bishop robe starting to rip at the seams, trooped down the aisle.
Deciding to break wedding traditions, Alan-A-Dale and Ellen entered together, with me trailing behind them.
Friar Tuck rattled through the marriage ceremony. I stared straight ahead and paid the event no attention as Little John and Will Scarlet stared at me.
I only spoke up when Friar Tuck asked “Who gives this fine maid away?”
“I do,” I said, a smile curling at my lips. “And he who takes her from Alan-A-Dale, full dearly he shall buy her,” I said, twisting over my shoulder to speak to the guests and the bullied Bishop and knight, who were still being held on the church steps.
They practically shook in their boots.
When the ceremony was over several of my more exuberant men yipped and yelled while two others found the church bell tower and started ringing the bells.
“Right men,” I called over the happy shouts of the guests, who threw fistfuls of grain at the newly married couple. “We had better go back to Sherwood. No one, not even the Sheriff, could much mistake the racket we’re raising.” (Truthfully I had half expected him or George to burst into the ceremony.)
“Yes sir!” Little John saluted, the shoulder seam of the robe ripping with the movement.
I blew my horn three times, calling my band to me. “Merry Men, to Sherwood!” I ordered.
“Loved the wedding!”
“Such a pretty bride!”
“Wonderful ceremony!”
My men remarked as they trooped out of the church and started down the church pathway at a jog.
I waved once to Alan-A-Dale and Ellen. They both smiled and blushed as people continued to congratulate them.
I grinned once more in satisfaction, having performed a good dead in spite of my cowardly anxiety, and ran down the path after my men, Will Scarlet and Little John behind me.
We were back in Sherwood in time for a late lunch. Deciding it was too late to travel to Marian’s, I stayed in Sherwood Forest and held regular practice with my men before lurking on the road with a party of seven and robbing two squat lords and a murderous, yet equally snotty, squire.
I was just returning to archery practice when one of the men on guard duty came and found me.
“Erm, Robyn, there’s a slight problem,” my Merry Man started. It was Robert, the ex tailor.
“Yes, what is it?”
“There is a young man leading a burdened horse and a beautiful maiden through Sherwood. His name is Alan-A-Dale,” Robert said.
I frowned. “What’s Alan doing in Sherwood?” I muttered, leaving my men behind to train under Friar Tuck’s watchful eye.
Robert led me through the forest for ten minutes until we popped out on a small trail. Sure enough, Alan-A-Dale was there with the lovely Ellen and an old horse that had so many saddle bags I suspected Alan and Ellen had packed all of their earthly possessions onto the poor beast’s back.
“Alan, what are you doing?” I asked, pushing my way through the bushes, slightly startling the newly wedded pair. (The horse was too tired to notice.)
“Robin Hood! We’ve come to Sherwood Forest to join your band!” Alan smiled.
“It’s Robyn, Alan. R-o-b-y-n. And even though I accept your loyalty you don’t have to live with us,” I ruefully smiled. “We are happy enough in Sherwood, but many would not be. Particularly those of the newly married variation,” I stressed.
“Alan told me about you, Robyn,” Ellen said, alluding to my feminine gender. “We want to be with you. You have no idea what you’ve done for us. We would like to help.”
Alan nodded in agreement.
“Alan can entertain your Merry Men at night, and he is fair with a bow. Surely he could help with hunting. I can take over the darning and sewing, and washing,” Ellen continued. Clearly she was the more strategic and grounded of the two.
“Are you sure this is what you really want to do?” I asked. “We’ll gladly welcome you, but it is an outlaw’s life.”
Ellen serenely smiled. “If I spent my entire life trying to pay you back, Robyn, I don’t think I ever could.”
“So let us stay. If we are a burden we will leave,” Alan earnestly said.
I laughed. “How could you two be a burden? Very well then, if you wish you can stay with us.”
“Excellent!” Much said, crashing out of the underbrush. “I always wanted to listen to a harper sing tales about your exploits Robyn!”
“I’m sure there aren’t any ballads about me, Much,” I wryly corrected.
“Of course there are,” Little John said, appearing by Much.
“We heard several when we stayed at Nottingham Castle,’ Will Scarlet added, popping up at my elbow.
I sighed. I had suspected they were there. Little John and Will Scarlet never were ones to leave me be. “Welcome to Sherwood Forest Alan-A-Dale and Lady Ellen. If you can stand us then you must have the patience of a saint.”
Alan and Ellen’s arrival marked a change for the Merry Men and I. True to her word Ellen tackled the sewing and washing with a perseverance I envied. Her arrival took a lot of pressure off Robert and me.
Alan raised my already merry band into even higher spirits. Mealtimes became popular entertainment hours. In the evenings, when we usually sat around the campfire and gossiped like ladies in a castle, we listened to ballads sung by Alan, who had the voice of an angel.
In truth, it was Alan and Ellen who inspi
red the plan I concocted to deal with Marian and her unwanted beau. Actually, perhaps it was not so much inspiration as it was desperation.
Marian did not wait the selected three days for my return. Instead the morning I was getting ready to go meet her, this time with Will Scarlet and Will Stutely, Tom reported Maid Marian riding through the forest, swearing up a storm with laden saddle bags.
Within minutes she was in my camp.
“ROBYN!” she bellowed.
“What is it now Marian?” I asked from my seat by the fire. I was prepared for the fight she was surely bringing me.
“What is it now?” Marian hissed, hopping off Nearly Dead. The grey mare sighed and walked herself over to Crafty’s pen. “I’m only worrying my head off in my castle tower, thinking about how I’m doomed but my greatest friend is going to help me and solve everything, when lo and behold I hear some village gossip. Apparently Robin Hood is now a matchmaker!”
“Marian, they needed help. Ellen was going to be married that day, your father, on the other hand, hasn’t even accepted Sir Guy yet,” I defended. “Besides, as I reminded you last time we met, you were the one who wanted me to be an outlaw. I’m not your personal hero, Marian, I have other people to think of too.”
Marian stared at me and rapidly blinked. For the first time in years she looked like she was about to cry.
I stammered a little, trying to figure out how to backtrack. The ever eloquent Alan-A-Dale stepped in for me.
“You must be the beautiful Maid Marian,” he smiled, running his fingers over his (fixed) harp in a beautiful river of notes. “The apple of Robin Hood’s eye, his beloved. Or so the songs say, and they hardly know the half of it. What brings you here, Maid Marian, and so angry? Surely you cannot be mad at your best friend just because she helped my wife and me,” Alan gently said.
Marian miserably shook her head and rubbed her eyes with her fists. “I’m coming to stay Robyn,” she whispered. “Father told me in a week he will accept Sir Guy’s proposal.”
All of the air left my chest and my mind raced. I glanced at Ellen and Alan, Alan’s words still dancing around my head. The apple of my eye, huh? I had already stopped one marriage, why not two?
A wolfish smile swept over my lips. “Marian, you and I will return to Huntingdon Castle—,”
“Robyn I—,”
“Only to deliver a letter that says you’ve run off to be with the love of your life, Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest. Write to your Father and tell him that you will have no other man besides Robin, and that he will protect you from Sir Guy of Gisborne. Start writing it,” I ordered before turning on my heels. “Alan-A-Dale, I am in need of your help sooner than I thought.”
“How can I be of service, Robyn?” Alan asked with a sweeping bow.
“Let us cement the rumor that Maid Marian is Robin Hood’s true love,” I decided. “Maid Marian may be my best friend, but who says she cannot be Robin Hood’s love? It will protect the both of us.”
“It’s true,” Much nodded. “We’ve been getting lots of womenfolk in Sherwood, looking for the bold and brave Robin Hood.”
“Marian will be free of the ruse when I dump the Robin Hood mask. It will be perfect,” I laughed.
“How can I help you?” Alan inquired.
“Write a ballad. Write several ballads. Make them all about the relationship between Marian and Robin Hood. But it is important, the ballads must keep Marian’s chastity, as well as my own,” I shivered. “I will not have bawdy songs being sung about us, nor would I ever want any pathetic lie such as that to be passed around.”
“It will work perfectly. You two are already the talk of the town with that sorrowful parting when Robin saved Little John and Will Scarlet,” Alan shrugged.
Marian blinked. “My ring got stuck on Robyn’s clothes.”
“It makes no difference. Once the ballads are out any interaction between you two, no matter how friendly it really is, will be made into the greatest love scene of all time through people’s imaginations,” Alan said, plucking a few more strings before humming a line.
“What will all of this do, Robyn, except boost your Robin Hood image?” Will Scarlet asked.
“The Sheriff, Sir Guy, perhaps even Prince John, are going to be angry. Very angry. We will draw them here to Sherwood. I will deal with Sir Guy, and we will rob the Sheriff blind,” I grinned.
“I like that plan,” Little John smirked.
“Me too,” Will Scarlet agreed.
Marian only breathed in relief and hugged me. “Thank you Robyn,” she whispered.
Behind us Alan-A-Dale was already singing a few lines.
“A bonny fine maid of a noble degree,
With a hey down down a down down
Maid Marian called by name,
Did live in the North, of excellent worth,
For she was a gallant dame.”
Chapter 7
Sir Guy the Addled
The plan worked perfectly. Almost too perfectly.
Marian, Ellen, and I, all dressed in skirts, swarmed Huntingdon Castle and left the letter on her canopy bed. We also placed a Merry Man in the castle in the guise of a liveryman. He reported the reactions of Marian’s parents and the residents of Huntingdon Castle.
Everyone was scandalized, believing Marian to be the only female in my company of Merry Men. So I had Alan stroll through Nottingham and Huntingdon, singing a made up ballad about Marian’s arrival at our camp, which also added that Marian had become fast friends with the other female in Sherwood, Ellen, Alan-A-Dale’s wife. (Indeed, the cheeky harper had already written a ballad about his wedding and it was well known.)
Several days later my disguised Merry Man reported that Marian’s father still feared her reputation was ruined. So I had Alan make the rounds through the surrounding towns again, this time with a ballad in hand that explained that Marian was known as Maid Marian because she and Robin Hood wouldn’t marry until Robin Hood was no longer an outlaw and was pardoned and law abiding.
It worked like a charm.
What I hadn’t counted on was all of these catchy ballads (Alan-A-Dale is an excellent rhymer.) enraging Sir Guy, the Sheriff, and even Prince John.
Prince John put a price of 60 marks on my head, which was nothing but a speck compared to King Richard’s ransom, but for a man of average wages it was a lot.
Whether it was because of the ballads or the price on my head, the Sheriff of Nottingham (Or more likely, George) and Sir Guy of Gisborne reacted far faster than any of us predicted they would. Two weeks after we dropped off Marian’s letter they were inside Sherwood Forest without our knowledge.
I hadn’t expanded my scouting distance yet because my men and I estimated another few days before the Sheriff would motivate himself to leave the comforts of his castle. Apparently money was a better motivator for the Sheriff than we speculated.
The day started simply enough: breakfast and practice before giving out the daily assignments.
Will Stutely was taking a group of 25 Merry Men with him to canvas the road and look for targets to rob. Much was staying behind to supervise those on guard duty and, surprise, the new trainees that continued to pour into our ranks.
“I think I’ll do an outer scouting pass through the forest before I meet up with you, Will Stutely. Robbing sounds like a fair way to pass the day,” I yawned before gathering up my bow and quiver.
I needed to get out of the camp. Marian had terrorized me during fencing practice that morning. I did not want to be around her gloating face for the entire day.
“Sounds good,” Little John agreed.
“Scarlet, are you with us?” I asked, running my fingers over the goose feathered fletching of my arrows.
“No,” Will Scarlet said after a moment or two of consideration. “I believe I shall try to rustle up some game. Do any of you Merry Men wish to join me?” he asked.
I blinked and stared as Lobb, Ryan, and two other Merry Men told my usually constant companion that they w
ould join him.
“Will?” I asked, staring at him, drawing his gaze.
He smiled and stepped closer to me to gently ruffle my hair. “It’s fine Robyn. Enjoy your scouting trip.”
I was troubled, but Little John was waiting, so I brushed off my green hose before leading the way into the forest.
We talked and walked for twenty minutes, laughing as we swapped lines from Alan’s newest ballad, which was about Little John and I and how we met. (Of course Alan didn’t say Much had pushed me into fighting Little John, he played it off as my own daring desire.)
“I can’t believe he included the part about Will Stutely christening you,” I laughed.
“It’s a necessary part,” Little John insisted. “Most of those who see me laugh on sight about my name unless they are forewarned.”
“Well, it was quite funny,” I admitted.
“Shhh,” Little John said, stopping.
“What?” I whispered.
Little John pointed off to the side and tilted his head. Together we listened to the forest. Someone was walking through our woods.
Little John and I skulked over to the intruder on quiet, sure feet. Little John boosted me up a tree where I spied on the interloper. I nearly fell off the tree due to recoil and disgust when I caught sight of the idiotic fop that had wandered into my forest.
For some reason that I would never be able to fathom, a man had wandered into Sherwood dress in a horse pelt. No joke, the skin still had the black mane and tail, which dragged on the ground behind him. The horse’s “head” dropped down over the man’s skull, perfectly hiding his face.
I slid down the tree and landed next to Little John with a muffled thump.
“Well?” Little John whispered.
“If Crafty was within call I would summon him to kick that intruder’s legs until they were broken. The idiot is wandering around in a horse pelt.”
Little John winced. The horse pelt thing was a strange case, but it was well known through out my band that I had finally inherited Marian’s love of horses after my adventures with Crafty in Nottingham Castle. The silly wanderer most likely didn’t know he was making a somewhat dangerous, if not begrudging, enemy.