Heart of Sherwood

by Edale Lane

  "Hmm," Robyn considered. "He would require more than a Sheriff, four barons and two bishops to pull off a coup. He would bloody well need an army."

  Marian bit her lip, looking like she wavered on the edge of a decision.

  "What is it?" Robyn asked in concern.

  "There is something I have wanted to tell you, but was sworn to secrecy. As things stand now, I think it perhaps best that I do; what's more, I have essentially invited you into a secret plot to foil a secret plot anyway."

  Robyn gave her a flat look. "Quit babbling; what is it?"

  Marian took in a deep breath and let it out. "Queen Eleanor has enlisted me as a spy against the Sheriff and Sir Guy, to find out what I can uncover about their scheming with Prince John."

  "What?" Robyn uttered in shocked disbelief.

  "That is why I initially said I had to stay in Nottingham and couldn't come to the forest with you."

  "Marian, such a thing could be dangerous. If you are discovered-"

  "Which I shan't be," Marian stated confidently. "Asides, is anyone truly safe with a power crazed sheriff and conniving prince lording over us?" She touched a hand to Robyn's cheek. "I am being careful; do not fear, my sweetling."

  "Do not fear? By rights I fear for you engaging in spying, even when I thought you were only doing it on my behalf. And while this is true, I am at the same time so very proud of you." Robyn tugged her back into her arms and they held each other for a long moment.

  "When we do find out where the cache is, I believe the Queen will ask you to steal it for her."

  Robyn snickered. "You told her about me, did you?"

  "Well, not everything. As far as she knows, you are simply a chivalrous bandit who robs the rich to give to the poor."

  "I am indeed," she admitted with a satisfied smile. "And even that is an identity you gave me."

  "I only made a suggestion; you created the identity. Do you recognize you are a hero to the people? They speak of Robin Hood in awe. You have given them hope."

  "I do what I can, but I think it not enough."

  "Robyn." Marian pulled away from her and sat up in bed, her back against the headboard. Robyn followed her lead, sitting up beside her.

  "What now? Are there any more secrets for you to reveal tonight?"

  "No, you have them all now," Marian vowed. "But there is one you have yet to reveal to me."

  Robyn sighed in frustration. "It isn't safe."

  "It is unsafe for me not to know where to find you. Suppose I need to warn you of something I have learned, some innocents the Sheriff plans to murder, or a new plot or trap he has set? What if I get a message from the Queen and I must to tell you where the silver is being hidden. It's not like I would come strolling into your secret camp merely for a social call."

  Robyn glanced at Marian and grimaced. "It's not that I wish to keep you away," she said, then nodded. "But you are right; it is time. If you can get me a quill and parchment, I will draw you a map which you must-"

  "Commit to memory and then burn," Marian concluded.

  Robyn gave her a nod. "Precisely."

  Marian smiled triumphantly and planted a jovial kiss on her lips.

  Then Robyn caught her face between her hands and gazing into her eyes with unmasked honesty, said, "I cannot see what the future holds, nor can I guarantee you tomorrow. But what I do promise is that as long as I am alive… as long as there is breath in me or my heart beats in my chest, I will love you with all my soul, and mind, and strength, and I will protect you with everything that is within my power. I also promise that I will not shrink from danger or flee from my cause, for it is just. I shall do my best to fight and win and live for the next time I can hold you in my arms, but I cannot step down from the course that has been laid before me."

  Marian's adoring gaze was clouded with concern. She took Robyn's hands in hers, her eyes glistening as she broadened her smile to compensate. "I would expect nothing less from the strong, chivalrous woman whom I love."

  It started with a kiss that should have meant good evening and farewell… it ended after another hour of deep, thirsty passion, and a desire to fit a lifetime of love into one night–just in case.

  *~*~*

  Robyn was making her way back to camp when dawn began to filter through the forest canopy. She felt like she was dancing on the wind, light as a goose down feather and luckier than a four-leaf clover. She replayed the whole evening in her mind, experiencing the ecstasy all over again. Even so, her well-honed senses were as alert as always when they picked up the sound of approaching horses. Snapping out of her revelry, Robyn climbed a sturdy tree to observe the road that lay a few dozen yards ahead.

  A troop of soldiers rode up and halted at the fork in the path. A stout, older man issued orders. "I want a squad to branch out in each direction, both down the road and into the forest. If you detect any sign of the bandits, shoot off your smoke arrow and wait for us to all meet up. Do not try to apprehend them on your own. Now, let's make the Sheriff proud, lads!"

  They dispersed into groups of four to begin their search.

  Robyn smiled wryly. They were nowhere near her camp, and one of those squads was about to ride into a trap, courtesy of the 'ghosts' of Sherwood. Guess I'll have to take the long way home. Once they were out of earshot, she slid down from the tree and chose a different path. About ten minutes later, she heard the shouts of alarm, clanking of metal, and shrieks of the chargers. That will teach them to invade my forest uninvited!

  Robyn's new route took her past a saw mill but, before it even came into view, she discerned something was amiss. There was a woman's scream, shouting and crying and some loud banging noise. She notched her bow, proceeding as swiftly as she could with stealth. She followed the road but kept to the trees and within moments had the situation in sight. Two dirty, raggedy men were terrorizing the woodcutter and his wife. She frowned in confusion. These aren't the Sheriff's guards. Mayhap they are ordinary thieves. She crept in closer, shot at the ready.

  The fellow in a wool cap had just finished tying the woodman to a post, a bloody gash on his head where he had been struck. The bearded man was making angry demands of the bony woman. "Look, wench, it's like this: tell us where to find the bandit Hood and no one gets hurt. Got it?"

  She cried some more, twisting the hem of her apron between her hands fretfully. "I don't know!"

  "But you sees him sometimes, right? Where does he go?"

  Then the man in the cap spoke to her husband, who seemed dazed but conscious. "Now I know you doesn't want us to hurt your woman, but we're going to have to if'n you don't speak up."

  Next the bearded man lifted a rod as if to strike the traumatized wife. She whimpered and raised her arms in a defensive posture just before her attacker cried out in pain, the rod tumbling to the ground. In stunned disbelief, he grabbed his injured hand, counting his fingers and swearing. An arrow protruded from the discarded wooden bar and he lifted panicked eyes to a tall, lean, hooded figure armed with a bow.

  "So you are looking for Robin Hood?" she asked in her most intimidating voice. "You have found him." She pulled back a shaft and aimed it at the man's chest. "I am in the morning mist that rises with the sun; I am in the evening dew that settles over the grass; I am in Nottingham, Edwinstone and Rutherford Abby; I am in every meadow of the shire and behind every tree in the forest."

  "Mercy!" he begged, dropping to his knees. "Have mercy, Lord of Sherwood, for surely my lord will not!"

  The man in the cap left the woodcutter and raced to his cohort, diving to the dirt beside him, and yanking off his hat in a sign of respect.

  Confused, Robyn proceeded with caution. "Who is your master, and why do you seek Robin Hood?"

  "We're Gisborne's serfs," the bearded man replied.

  Then the other picked up the story. "Now that the harvest is in, he sent us all out, two by two, to track down Rob- you. He wants to impress Prince John by bringing you in afore the Sheriff."

  Robyn's mouth twisted a
s her jaw hardened in disgust.

  "Please, milord, do not kill us!"

  "I am not your lord," she replied impatiently.

  "Would that you were!" declared the chap clutching his hat. "We don't want to hurt no one. Those was only threats. But see here, if we return with nothing, Gisborne will give us the lash, he will."

  "Words did not bloody the mill owner's head, now did they?" Robyn watched them, weighing their story.

  Then the man burst into tears, burying his face in his hands.

  "Woman," Robyn called. She had moved off to untie her husband and place a wet rag to his head.

  "Aye?" Frightened eyes turned to Robyn as the woman rose from the bench where the mill owner sat.

  "What has happened here?" She briefly glanced at her but kept her eyes trained on the two kneeling assailants.

  "They just came demanding we tell them where to find Robin Hood, only we didn't know."

  "Gisborne sent you, did he?" Robyn demanded.

  "Aye," the men replied in unison.

  "Then I shall not send you back empty handed. You," she said pointing to the bearded man. "Pick up that arrow," and he scrambled to obey. "Gisborne knows my fletching. Tell him you found me, and deliver him this warning: if any of you serfs are punished, or any peasants of the shire harmed because he wants to find me–and I will know–then he shall find me… in his bed chamber standing over him as he sleeps, pressing a silk pillow into his face until all breath has left his lifeless body. Can you remember those words? I want him to tremble as he tries to sleep, facing his own mortality."

  "I,I-" he stammered.

  The other man nodded in assurance. "Aye, milord, word for word."

  "Good," Robyn concluded as she relaxed and lowered her bow.

  As the dirty serf replaced the cap on his head, he said, "I know that you are the people's champion, and one day you will come and free us from the cruel taskmaster what makes us do these things. I right knows you will come, one day."

  The hope in the kneeling man's eyes touched a place inside Robyn that she had never imagined she had. "I can't promise that," she replied.

  "Ah, I don't need you to take an oath," he said bashfully. "I only know that you will, just like you came for these good people and saved them."

  It was only chance, she thought remorsefully. Robyn turned her eyes to the couple sitting a few feet away.

  "Thank you," the woman bade her. "We understand the Sheriff and Lord Gisborne will hurt whoever they can to get to you, but we are not afraid. Your men brought us food and blankets after the tax collectors took everything. We cannot betray you, because we do not know where you stay, and that is a good thing. Let them do what they wish; this fellow is right. You'll free us from their injustice; maybe not today, but one day."

  Robyn bowed her head in sincere humility. "I will do what good I can, for as many as I can, for as long as I can; on that, you have my oath." Then she turned back to Gisborne's serfs. "You will not fault me for standing here while I watch you leave."

  "No, milord," replied the bearded man as he scrambled to his feet grasping Hood's arrow in his uninjured hand. "We're away to deliver the arrow and your message. Pray he don't cleave off an ear or a nose." Robyn watched them scamper down the road, a raw gnawing in the pit of her stomach as she envisioned the brutality the serfs had described. Then she checked on the woodcutter and said her goodbyes before continuing back to camp.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sherwood Forest, October 8, 1193

  The afternoon was gray with a blustery wind whooshing leaves along the damp forest floor. More than a week had passed since Michaelmas and autumn was in the air. A trio of fat, red squirrels were busily gathering nuts from beneath an oak, while a vast flock of swallows blanketed the sky gliding southward to places unknown. Even though Robyn was often fascinated by her observations of nature, this day she was enthralled in a different activity.

  A crisp sound clapped amid the din of whistles, laughs, and cheers as Robyn sparred with Alan and Arthur armed with pine practice swords under the tutorage of Friar Tuck. "Put your hip into the thrust," bellowed Tuck. "Your arm still has no power."

  "Come on, Robin, you handle a sword like a girl!" teased Will.

  If you only knew! she thought. Tuck had been so pleased with her progress that he was starting her with two opponents at once, as it was a very likely scenario in actual combat. After parrying both of them, Alan to her left and Arthur to her right, she decided brains must triumph where brawn fell short. First she feinted toward Alan, then hit the dirt with a tuck and a roll into Arthur's stance, thrusting a foot into the back of his knee. Totally unprepared, he buckled, and she was up swiftly enough to utilize a two-handed grip to chop his sword clean out of his hand. Her bewildered, ruddy comrade landed with a thud, looking up at her disbelievingly. But Robyn didn't take time to return his gaze, for her focus turned to Alan, whose mouth hung open beneath wide eyes.

  "That there is cheatin'!" Arthur declared.

  "There is no such thing as cheating in battle, my lad," Tuck said sagely, a proud smile tugging at his thick lips.

  Alan, taking advantage of the distraction, leapt forward in a lunge toward Robyn, but she was ready for him. Her parry was followed by a forceful riposte, and she remembered to throw her hip into her thrust.

  "Ow!" Alan exclaimed as he stepped back to rub his bruised forearm from where her stick-sword had landed. His frown was of exaggerated insult, but his green eyes continued to sparkle at her playfully.

  "Oops," she teased, but remained on guard.

  "Now, Robin, I want you to execute that second intention we worked on," Tuck called.

  With a nod, she opened her attack with a thrust which Alan focused on blocking, but that was her feint. When he raised his weapon to counter blow, she dropped to one knee beneath his swing, and steadying herself with her left hand on the ground, thrust her blunt wooden sword upward into Alan's abdomen, but not so forcefully as to hurt him.

  Tuck applauded. "And that, my students, is what we in the fencing world call a passata sotto. Use it sparingly, for if it is a move your opponent suspects, you will be left at a disadvantage."

  "Does this mean I am dead?" Alan asked in jest.

  Robyn stood up and patted him down, peering into his face which was level with hers. "Nay; same annoying jester, alive as ever, and likely wanting for a pint about now."

  "Amateurs," Will scoffed and flipped his head to throw back his sweep of black hair. "Hey Friar, when will he be ready to take me on?"

  Friar Tuck angled his face toward Robyn. "What say you?"

  "You going to double sword me?" she asked Will.

  He grinned. "If you think you are deft enough."

  "Aye," she motioned with a matching grin. "Give me your best!"

  He picked up the wooden sword Arthur had dropped and Alan handed him the other. "Good luck, pal," he bade him with a pat on the back and stepped aside.

  Will rolled his shoulders and spun the sticks to get a feel for them. "Much lighter than steel," he mentioned casually.

  "Aye," Tuck agreed with a nod. "I have the lad practice with a true blade against dummies, but we don't want anyone getting hurt. Sparring is meant to be…" The Friar searched for the right word, "merriment."

  In a blink, Will's manner transformed from carefree to resolute while more members of the band gathered to watch. Robyn welcomed the challenge, for everyone respected Will's skill. Friar Tuck had trained her well, but she deemed she could also learn something from her youthful friend. Were it ever to become necessary to face the Sheriff, she would need all the practice and training she could acquire.

  Will led with his right foot, advancing with a series of beats using his right-hand sword. Robyn studied him prudently, then traded up from parrying his blows into a compound riposte. As she directed her own assault, Will brought his left-hand blade into play, alternating swords in an attempt to keep her off-balance. The intense fencing conversation continued for several minutes with nei
ther gaining an advantage as they tested each other's skills. Robyn was in the midst of formulating a plan to get around Will's aggressive style when young David of Doncaster ran straight into the field of combat, his long dark hair trailing in the breeze.

  "Robin, mates, you'll never guess who's comin' this way!" The high pitch of his exclamation almost matched the height of his astonished brows.

  The two ceased sparring at once, turning their attention to the lad. "Who?" Tuck asked first, tensing with alarm.

  David swallowed and pointed behind him. "Maid Marian! I was on lookout in a tree near the road when I sees her ridin' up, pretty as a spring mornin', but then she took a calculated turn off the path and started on in this direction. She'll be here anon!"

  Tuck relaxed while Alan snickered. "I told you Robin was sweet on her."

  Then Little John asked, "Robyn, did you tell her where to find us?"

  She nodded and handed Tuck her practice sword as she moved in the direction David had pointed. "She must have important news. Stay here, everyone; I'll return soon," and she took off at a jog.

  *~*~*

  Marian spotted Robyn before coming into view of the camp. She pulled her grey palfrey to a halt and allowed a dirty, sweaty bandit to assist her down from the saddle. Before saying a word, she wrapped her tall, slender warrior in a warm embrace.

  Robyn kissed her cheek and spoke in a hush. "What news, my love?"

  "A letter from the Queen," she replied, and reluctantly drew back to look up into Robyn's face. "Everything we need to know," she said and withdrew the paper from a pocket in her blue surcoat. She handed the letter to Robyn who read its contents in silence. Marian watched Robyn's expression and recognized the instant it shifted from curiosity to calculation.