Robyn and the Hoodettes

by Ebony McKenna

  How strange that Robyn felt she could trust an outsider like Wilfred, but not Ellen. Then again, Wilfred hadn’t betrayed them.

  As the sun dipped behind the trees, Mother Eleanor added more logs to the fire to build it up.

  Ellen started singing again.

  Robyn in a hood . . .

  Heat roared up Robyn’s neck. She pulled the edges of her hood over her face. “Sing about someone else.”

  “Come on Robyn, it’s a great song. You’ll be famous,” Ellen said.

  “It is catchy,” Mother Eleanor said.

  Robyn said, “I don’t want to be famous.”

  “Fine then. Let’s sing about . . .” Ellen looked around the group, “Little Joan!”

  “I’m not little!” The giant protested.

  Little Joan with a staff of gold

  Would not do as she was told

  “I don’t have a staff of gold!” Joan threw her hands up.

  “Poetic license,” Ellen said as she kept going.

  Met Will Scarlett on the road

  Yes she met him on the road

  And what did they do upon the road?

  The battled each other with staffs of gold.

  “Now you’re just making noise!” Joan said.

  “Am I really that red?” Will asked Madge. Madge shook her head and cuddled him a little more. Then they said something quietly to each other and walked off to the carriage.

  Robyn and the merry friends

  Travelled the wood from end to end

  Robbed from the rich and gave to the poor

  That’s what the Robbing Hoods are for

  We cannot forget there’s Georgia Green

  Along with Joan the two are seen

  The favourites in the group by far

  Travel with Robyn wherever they are

  Among the friends was the tie-er of frocks

  Soon to be known as Friar of Tucks

  “That doesn’t even make sense!” Robyn put her hands over her ears. Ellen had a nice voice and all, but the song was getting silly.

  Timber creaked noisily beside her. The carriage was . . . rocking.

  “Marion, you see that?”

  Marion’s eyes widened to show he had. “Will and Madge?”

  Heat spread through Robyn.

  Then they heard Madge’s high-pitched voice. “Oh, stupid thing! Get in!”

  “Nearly there.” That was Wilfred.

  Then some grunting. Robyn didn’t know where to look. The ground suddenly held enormous interest as she stared at a small rock.

  She must be redder than Wilfred after being near the horses.

  “We can hear you out here,” Marion said.

  “Good,” they heard Madge grunt. “Get in here and help us out.”

  Marion and Robyn boggled at each other, knowing their minds were both way down in the mud. “Er, help?” Robyn asked, her voice cracking in the middle.

  Another grunt from the carriage.

  “Are you both all right?” Marion called out. He didn’t take a step any closer to the carriage though.

  Mother Eleanor spoke up. “Go on then, they obviously need you.”

  At which point, Wilfred shambled out of the carriage and waved them over. “It’s this last bit, then we’re done.”

  Confused and apprehensive, Robyn and Marion walked towards the carriage.

  Way back when her father used to be around, she’d heard her parents making strange noises and knew exactly what it was. She’d grown up around plenty of animals and witnessed season after season of babbies and calves and goats in the village.

  “Oh!” Marion cried out as he looked inside, then staggered backwards, laughing.

  “What?” Robyn stepped closer.

  Inside the carriage, Madge had bundled branches across the width of the foot well, to build it to the height of the seats to form a large bed for several people. They were trying to get the last couple of timber wedges in to hold it all in place, but they’d shoved the sticks in so badly it would end up being incredibly uncomfortable. They wanted to take everything apart and start again, but now they’d dislodged some of it, the rest of the branches wouldn’t come loose.

  “Oh!” Robyn said, as she finally made sense of the situation.

  Marion grabbed at the sticks and pulled with all his might. The carriage rocked violently.

  That would explain all the rocking and swaying then.

  And the grunting. Forcing the branches out was the reason for the grunting.

  “Whey!” They all cheered as the jammed branch came loose. Everything else could come out and they could start again.

  Drizzle swirled, coating everything with shiny dampness as they worked to get the large bed right the second time around. Instead of rounded branches, Marion fetched an axe head and sliced some of them straight down the middle to create a flat edge.

  Drizzle turned into showers as they worked on. Steam swirled with each breath. Showers deepened into steady rain. Making a comfortable shelter became a priority.

  Back in the village, the smithy would have offered warmth and a place to dry out. But here in the woods, until Joan and Georgia could finish the round house, the carriage offered the only sure roof over their heads.

  Shadow and Plus One shook the rain from their hides and carried on eating grass. It wasn’t raining so hard, just the usual early winter cloak of misery. But if the rain grew heavier, surely the horses would feel it?

  In which case, the animals needed a proper shelter as well.

  “What’s wrong?” Marion asked as he sliced another branch through the middle.

  “We can’t keep the horses.” How her heart bruised to say that. Two less horses would be two less mouths to feed. Sure they ate grass, but they needed oats as well. Oats from a bag already quarter gone.

  “They’re not tethered,” Marion said as he split another branch and handed the halves to Wilf. “They’re free to go home any time they like.

  Wilfred and Madge were creating an impressive cot. It would fit six people in a squeeze, but they had eight.

  “I’m going to see how Joan and Georgia are getting on.”

  On the way she passed Mother Eleanor, dragging another branch over the fire. The branch was wet from sitting on the Shire Wood floor. It spat and bubbled as it burned. Thick smoke rose. Coals hissed with every sploshed raindrop.

  “Tie your frock, it’s dragging on the ground.” Eleanor said.

  “Tie your frock,” Robyn mimicked as she trudged past.

  In the stream, she found Ellen shaking and shivering as she secured her wicker trap. The poor girl’s lips purpled from cold.

  “You’ve done plenty for now. Go and thaw out by the fire,” Robyn said.

  “But I’m nearly done.”

  “You’re nearly dead. Go warm up.”

  Ellen wedged another rock against her half-completed fish farm and sloshed out of the river. Her teeth chattered as her soaked body came into contact with the wind.

  Concern pinged Robyn. The girl couldn’t be trusted, but she was also doing her best. If they let her go they’d have one less mouth to feed and one less person to keep warm and dry. On the other hand, if they let her go, would she turn them all in to Maudlin?

  Did they give her another chance? Maybe that was the right thing to do.

  “Joan? Georgia?” Robyn called out as she approached the two giants working together.

  “Hey Robyn, look what we’ve done.” Georgia said, taking a step back to show their work.

  They’d done something amazing, that’s for sure. They’d rammed guide branches into the soft wet ground and woven thinner, green branches between them, creating an impressive round house with a small opening for the door. Above it, they’d made the framework for a roof. A roof that didn’t have a hope of keeping the rain off in its present state.

  Staying in it tonight would be impossible.

  But soon.

  “Brilliant.” She kept her teeth closed to stop them from ch
attering. Her soaked hood dripped water down the back of her neck, each drip chilling her that little bit more until she felt like she could scream.

  Why couldn’t this adventure have happened in summer? Not that the rain always held off anyway, but at least in summer the branches were full of leaves that offered more shelter.

  Why hadn’t they stayed in Sheffield? Working in the tower for no reward might have been preferable to this misery.

  “Cheer up love,” Georgia said as she shook the droplets from her hood. “It’s only rain.”

  Shadow and Plus One ambled over to see what they were up to. Robyn couldn’t help giving her horse a gentle rub on her wet nose. Both horses shook themselves, sending water droplets in all directions. Their manes and tails were soaked through.

  “Oh dear,” Joan said as she looked at the two large animals. Large, soaked animals. “Get them in, it’s a little drier at least.”

  “Come on,” Robyn said, “Let’s go warm up by the fire.”

  As they stood around the flames, Robyn suggested their sleeping arrangements. “Will and Madge have converted the carriage. We’ll sleep in that until the roof on the round house is watertight.”

  But there was no way they’d all fit in the carriage. Not eight people, two of them giants at that.

  Marion said, “We can sleep underneath.” The ‘we’ included Robyn because he made an off-hand gesture and a shrug, as if it meant nothing.

  Robyn kept her eyes down so nobody else would see how much the statement affected her. She missed what Marion said next but it ended with, “The carriage has been in the same place for so long, it’s dry on the ground below.”

  As dry as ground could be at this time of year.

  “I’ll sleep on the ground,” Ellen said.

  “Nice try,” Robyn said out loud before she could reel the words back in.

  “Nice try at what?” The girl looked affronted.

  “Come on, Ellen, as soon as the rest of us are asleep you’ll scarper back to Maudlin.”

  Hands on hips, Ellen protested her innocence. “In the dark? In the rain?”

  “You’d probably take a horse while you were at it.” Robyn said.

  “Don’t give her ideas,” Marion kept his voice low.

  But maybe a small part of her wanted Ellen to leave, and take the other horse with her. Not Shadow, obviously. Shadow was hers now.

  All the same, Ellen was crazy if she thought they wouldn’t keep watch over her. “You’re sleeping in the carriage” Robyn said, “We’ll take turns staying awake and keeping an eye on you, so you can’t get up to anything.”

  “I’ve frozen myself to the bone to get you fish for supper and you don’t trust me.” Fat tears rolled down her face like slugs.

  “You’ve got a long way to go before you earn our trust,” Marion said.

  Warmth spread through Robyn knowing she had Marion’s full support.

  “Darling, I think we should be the ones to sleep on the ground,” Mother Eleanor said, casting a look between Robyn and Marion. “We need Marion in the carriage to keep an eye on Ellen.”

  Everyone except Mother Eleanor climbed into the carriage. Robyn opened the door to bid everyone goodnight. And to check they were all in there. It was a hot mess of warm, smelly bodies and damp clothes. Jealousy spiked her.

  “Where’s Ellen?”

  “Under here,” the girl said. She’d wedged herself into the foot well underneath them. Smart move. She’d be toasty warm in the crawlspace. It left plenty of room for five others to lie above her.

  “Let’s get some rest,” Mother Eleanor said.

  Bone weary, Robyn and her mother crawled under the carriage and clung to each other to keep warm.

  “I wish the cow was here,” Robyn said.

  “Me too,” Mother Eleanor said on a sigh.

  “She’s lovely and warm, isn’t she?”

  Mother Eleanor shifted again and squished herself into Robyn. “You’re not . . . jealous of a cow, are you?”

  “Course not,” she said too quickly.

  “I love you so much my darling,” Mother said as they tried to get comfortable and failed. “I have said too much about Bella lately. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m having a hard time adjusting to all the changes going on, what with your father being away. Lord knows what Crusades are for anyway. I don’t even know how you can go to war against a belief system. I’ll tell you now, no good can come of it.”

  It must be exhaustion making her eyes go funny, because a tear splashed out onto Robyn’s cheek. “I miss father so much. Why aren’t they back yet?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “How long do Crusades take anyway?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Try not to think about it, OK?”

  Robyn grumbled and wriggled and tried–and failed–to get comfortable.

  Mother Eleanor kissed the back of her head. “You must know I’m so proud of you for all that you’re doing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  After that, the night didn’t feel quite so cold and miserable.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  No surprise. In the morning, it was still raining. Robyn lay curled with her mother, watching puddles under the carriage wheels ripple with each splash. Her back was vaguely warm from their shared body heat, but she couldn’t feel her feet and her shoulder ached to the marrow from sleeping on her side all night.

  It had all felt so simple and wonderful during their escape from Sheffield. She’d been handing out sacks of food to starving people, and it felt good. Like the time after she and Joan battled Roger’s men on the road, then returned their goods to Loxley. She’d felt like a hero.

  Now she felt cold, miserable and sore all over as the reality of ‘being a hero’ sank in.

  Wood creaked above them. The carriage rocked and swayed. The horses walked out from the round house and shook water from their coats.

  This is my life now, Robyn thought, as a warm tear trickled loose. It left a cold trail down her face as it met the morning air.

  Another tear followed the first, then the other eye let loose and there was no point stopping them. Nobody could see her, and she wasn’t crying crying, just weeping to herself. Weeping for the lost security of Loxley, weeping for the unknown life that lay ahead.

  Weeping for the warmth of her own bed.

  “It’s all right love,” Eleanor said as she woke up. “At least we’re all togeth–ow!” She clonked her head on the undercarriage as she sat up.

  Robyn wiped her face with the side of her hood. The creaking of the carriage above them matched the creaking in her joints as she snake-crawled her way out from underneath.

  The carriage door opened. A tired and inelegant Joan tumbled out. “All right?”

  “I’ll get there,” Robyn said, rolling her shoulders and yawning. This was every kind of miserable. “How did you sleep?”

  “Couldn’t have been as bad as you.” Joan said with a shrug and a yawn chaser. “At least there’s no frost.”

  “Rained too much for that,” Robyn said.

  “Good morning,” Ellen said in her singsong way as she pulled herself out of her sleeping hutch. “That was lush. Never been so warm.”

  How dare she be so happy!

  “Still raining then? Reminds me of home,” Ellen pulled her hood over her head and had a stretch. “Right then, let’s see if I can’t get the fish farm up and running then.”

  “The fire must have gone out. I’ll get the flint,” Marion said as he climbed over Georgia to get out.

  The fire. Their only source of warmth. Now the ashes were sitting in a puddle of rainwater.

  Misery sat like a heavy stone in the pit of Robyn’s stomach as she watched Madge, Wilfred and Georgia climb out of the carriage, their expectant faces turned to Robyn in an unspoken chorus of, “What’s next?”

  Robyn’s gave no cheer. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  “We need exercise,” Joan said, giving Robyn a hard
pat on the shoulder. “Come with me.”

  The last thing on Robyn’s to-do list was exercise. “Shouldn’t you be–I mean we be–finishing the round house?”

  “Marion and I had a talk about it last night. We’re going to turn the one we’ve got into a fire pit, and build another one.”

  Another one? But that wouldn’t be done in a day either. Which meant another night of sleeping under the carriage.

  “He’s full of good ideas that Marion,” Joan said, giving Robyn a wink.

  Frustration made her voice come out louder than it should have. “Then put him in charge,” Robyn said.

  “Hell’s teeth!” Joan said, “If Marion were in charge we’d still be back in Loxley weighing up the pros and cons of everything and getting nowhere.”

  Robyn tried to take it as a compliment, but her mood was too sour. “Yeah, but at least then we’d still have a warm bed for the night.”

  “Come on,” Joan gave her a hug around the shoulders and a too-hard shake. “Let me beat some sense into you.”

  It wasn’t an empty expression. Joan walked Robyn to where a sturdy tree trunk had fallen across the stream many years ago. It was half rotten and wedged into the mud on both sides. Joan fetched two long branches that were rammed in the ground. All set up and waiting for people to come and choose their weapons.

  “You are kidding?” Robyn said as she hefted one of the branches into her hands. Someone had cut the side shoots away so that it made a long staff. “It’s raining, we don’t have a fire, we haven’t finished making shelter and you want to play?”

  “Not play,” Joan twirled her staff like a pro, “I want to fight.”

  Thwack! Joan spun and slashed her stick through the air.

  Wrong-footed immediately, Robyn dropped and ducked out the way.

  “Get up,” Joan demanded.

  “Steady on!”

  “Get on the bridge.” Joan pointed to the tree trunk with her long staff.

  “Is your brain clotted?”