by M. C. Frank
“I will,” she answered, trying not to recoil from his touch.
When she came down to the stables however, he was already there, holding the bridle of her saddled horse and looking more forbidding than ever. Rosa thought he had changed his mind and sagged in disappointment. His expression changed however as soon as he took in her peasant dress and dark kerchief.
“I see you make a habit of deceiving men,” he said sarcastically, one eyebrow lifted in a silent challenge.
Rosa didn’t lose her composure.
“Even my unparalleled courage would not be enough to face Robin Hood as the Sheriff’s daughter,” she replied in the same tone.
“Of course,” he nodded grimly. “This changes everything. He doesn’t know you for who you are. I thought he would appreciate having an ally beneath the good Sheriff’s nose.” He saw her expression darken menacingly and added quickly, “or at least that he would be happy to welcome his beloved king’s niece in his den, a true princess actually.”
“I am hardly the king’s niece anymore.”
“Oh? I did not know that you abandoned your heritage along with your mother?”
“First of all, I did not abandon my mother. More, it was vice versa.” This subject always pained her immensely, so she changed it forthwith. “I merely meant that this alliance is no longer considered valid by my father since he hardly acknowledges my mother’s existence anymore.”
“Another fine point that our sovereign has failed to address. But then again, maybe the Saracens require more of his attention than say, his own cousin, your mother, left to live in destitution and, possibly, sin.” He said the last quite deliberately, hoping she would take the bait and delve into some description of her mother’s reduced circumstances and obscure existence, but Rosa was anxious to leave.
“I will not quarrel with you any more on this subject, Sir Hugh. Now, will you please stand aside that I may mount my horse? Thank you.”
He reluctantly stood to the side and not another word passed his lips as he watched her gracefully lift herself on the saddle and trot out into the golden dusk.
Rosa never had a chance to brush up her knowledge of Robin’s camp’s secret passage through the woods, because once more she was met by a group of green-clad men well before she had even reached the gentle waterfall that indicated a concealed cavity which led into the camp. They appeared overjoyed to see her, albeit her absence had been brief. She however felt like a bird let out of its cage, sucking in every breath of freedom like it was her last.
Robin looked up from where he was sitting, fashioning some kind of weapon the shape of which was as yet obscure in his calloused, brown hands. He didn’t get up, he merely nodded at her, but as his black eyes met hers she had the odd impression that they could rival the midday sun for brightness.
Over dinner she chatted with Little John, which was not a frequent occasion, for the huge man had appeared pretty intimidating to her at first. But every time she spoke with him she was flooded by a deep feeling of security and peace. The man was so devoted to his leader, he would leap into fire just for his amusement. Rosa was surprised however when John’s face took a boyish look and he timidly asked for her help in a delicate matter. She laughed and said that she was all ears.
It turned out that this ‘delicate matter’ was not all that much delicate, but it did give her the excuse she was craving for such a long time, namely, to stay overnight in the camp. She had stayed once, long ago, but she was Stuart then and she had to sleep with the men, whereas now she would sleep in a separate pallet, with a roof made of leaves above her head, which Robin had asked his men to prepare for her the previous day, just in case such an occasion arose.
Rosa couldn’t contain her joy as soon as it was settled with Little John: she would stay the next day to instruct them in the art of soap-making out of lye and oil. They did use a version of it, but due to the fact that this was a matter usually left to the women, Rosa wanted to say that they would do better to wash with just water rather than use the poor excuse for soap they already had. She kept her opinion to herself, however, and happily agreed to help them, relieved that even though she was not in truth a servant, she had spent long enough hours at the kitchens of the castle that she was more than familiar with the process. Exactly like she would have been if she was indeed Rose, the stable-keeper’s daughter.
She didn’t know it but had taken more than a little persuading to get Robin to agree with the plan.
“It is not safe for her, John.” He had said over and over again to his trusted friend. “I will not put her in danger, nor from the Sheriff’s men, nor from ourselves.”
“One night hardly makes her of the same ilk as we, Robin. Now her escapades, riding here in secret to give us the goings-on of the castle; that could have her head chopped off in a minute-”
“Stop it!” Robin shouted angrily, resenting John’s soft chuckle. “Never think such a thing again, you hear me?”
“Easy man, you know I mean no harm,” Little John said, alarmed at his leader’s unexpected reaction. “She is safer here with us than if she were sitting in the Sheriff’s table last night.”
They both roared with laughter at this, oblivious to the irony of the statement.
“We’ll double the night-guards this night, just in case.” Robin said as soon as they had sobered down, anxious all over again. “Yes, and I’ll stay up, right outside her tent.”
“Robin.” John waited until he was facing him fully and then went on. “I don’t think that you losing your sleep will keep the girl any safer. No, you need your strength for tomorrow. Now, the danger which you fear most of all will heed no guards or bows.”
Robin narrowed his eyes questioningly for a moment, and then bowed his in understanding.
“It’s myself I fear most of all, you’re right,” he murmured. “She has a fine quality about her, something so fierce and fragile at the same time… I feel as if I cannot control myself around her as I would want to.” Suddenly, he laughed aloud. “It would be a fine thing if we were to have an archery contest and she was present; I doubt any of my arrows would come within a yard of the mark. How the men would love that!” The whole camp echoed with their laughter. “But no,” Robin went on, turning serious. “No, I couldn’t bear for her to think ill of me. So see that no one gets word of… of my weakness for her around here, or else. You’ve been teasing me about her and I’ve borne it with good humor, I grant you, but it will be you who’ll take a ducking in the river if you cross me on this.”
“Conceited oaf!” muttered Little John through his teeth as he got up to rouse Friar Tuck from his prolonged nap. But his lips were smiling.
Robin took a wooden cup that contained a steaming chunk of meat and squatted down unceremoniously next to her. They ate in silence for a minute and then Rosa could no longer contain herself.
“I was very angry with you yesterday,” she said and Robin almost choked on his bite.
“Angry?” he asked, taken aback.
“When I heard about the flying arrow, I…”
Robin laughed, relieved, and pride glowed in his black eyes.
“So the tale traveled all the way down to the stables, did it?”
“It will probably have reached the ears of the king himself by now!” she exclaimed, infuriated by his apathy. He didn’t even notice. Instead his cheeks grew pink with joy. Well, it was rather dark for her to discern if he actually blushed, but he certainly behaved as if he had. “I was saying how angry it made me…,” she insisted.
He seemed to sober a little at that.
“Why?” he asked, and for a minute it seemed to her that he really cared to know.
“… and scared,” she finished.
He turned to look at her abruptly. He will laugh at me, she thought. But he didn’t. Instead, his expression became dark, inscrutable. They fell silent, but Robin didn’t continue eating. His portion of the day’s hunt lay delicious and untouched in his idle hands, all but forgotten.
He stared at her blankly.
“Forgive me,” he told her presently, “I am at a loss… You say you were scared? Surely you did not think you were in any danger? I swear they would all have died terrible deaths in that banquet room before I allowed any harm to come to you. You know that, don’t you?” His eyes were intent on her, willing her to believe him and he reached out a hand towards her, but thought better of it and withdrew it.
“It was for you I was scared, master. For you and your men and…” she hesitated.
“And?” he prompted.
“…and you,” she finished, embarrassed.
“I admit I cannot remember the last time someone worried about me, fair maiden,” he replied slowly. “You do me great honor.”
Rosa looked at him, speechless.
“Well, everyone is abuzz with speculation at the meaning of your cryptic note,” she said, trying to make light of the situation.
“Are they now? And I thought I had made it plain as day,” he replied, but he still looked serious and ate but a few bites of his food.
And his eyes never once left her face until the camp settled down to sleep.
Little John woke her with a gentle pull on her sleeve before the break of dawn, for he would have no time to waste once the sun rose. They went to work eagerly, a few more men coming to their help as they progressed. They went on famously until, suddenly Robin appeared, hardly noticing what they were doing, a deep frown on his face, his steps hurried and anxious.
“John!” he shouted.
“Here, chief!” came the prompt answer.
“Come, we have to go quick,” he said more calmly, but still urgently. Little John got up immediately. Only then did Robin seem to notice Rosa and address her:
“Forgive me Rose, for interrupting you. We have to get ready.” His smile dazzled her for a moment and then he was gone.
As the others readied the horses, Rosa heard the news. Apparently the Sheriff, mad about the incident with the arrow at the banquet, and further humiliated by his fruitless efforts to capture Robin Hood that very night, had sent his men to comb the forest. Robin’s men that were scattered around the forest by daytime, had spotted a group of the Sheriff’s guards getting dangerously close to the camp. Upon hearing of this, Rosa’s heart was gripped with fear.
The groups of guards that had been sent were larger than ever before and she knew firsthand the measure of the Sheriff’s anger. Even Robin must be uneasy this time. She had seen it in his eyes, had heard it in his urgency of his step; this would be a hard battle to fight, even for him.
Soon enough a few small groups were made, one led by Robin and another by Little John. The rest were to be sent to less dangerous spots. Rosa felt a surge of panic as she saw the bows and arrows that they equipped themselves with.
Surely their hands were trained well and their step agile, but even from their vantage point high on the trees, she couldn’t help but fear that these wouldn’t be enough to grant them victory against groups of twenty men, clothed in heavy mail and armed with lethal steel. Still she tried to keep as much out of the way as possible and show a brave face, like everybody else did that had to stay behind.
The men mounted their horses, and group after group left in their respective directions. Robin’s was last. He sent them all in front of him and spurred his horse into a gallop before he disappeared among the thick leaves.
Rosa leaned her head against a tree, trying to calm her racing heart. A breeze stirred her hair softly, but it didn’t touch her heart. She closed her eyes and tried to dispel the awful images that appeared in her mind. Suddenly she heard hoof beats nearby and opened her eyes, surprised, to see who it was.
But she didn’t have time to see anything.
Before she knew what was happening, suddenly warmth enveloped her like a breath and a pair of lips was pressed against hers. The next moment Robin’s long fingers were cradling her head and running down her neck, tangled in her hair. She felt him and knew it was he, his strong arms sliding around her and his breath coming quickly, brokenly against her mouth.
Slowly her arms came up around his neck, trembling, for it was all new to her, this crushing feeling, like falling off a cliff. His lips teased hers open and she tasted him as he explored her mouth hungrily, a foreign, burning sensation starting from her stomach and traveling downwards. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she lost herself in him entirely.
Absently she thought that he smelled like dew and fresh air and that his lips tasted of passion and desperation, and how, just as her eyelids were drifting closed with a sigh, she had seen his beautiful eyes fixed on her pleadingly right before he took her lips. Then he had crushed her mouth with his, and she felt him crawl inside of her, as though his hands, cupping the nape of her neck, could reach into her very soul.
Her palms moved to rest on his broad shoulders, and she felt him trembling as her fingers traveled slowly to his tapered waist. Still his lips didn’t release hers, and he was drinking her in, as though every shuddering breath he took was his last.
As the kiss deepened, she felt the air leaving her lungs and her whole body turn to liquid. Her knees went weak and she thought she might perish from the sensation of her entire body being on fire. Robin felt her fall and quickly moved his arms around her waist, supporting her, lifting her closer to his lips.
He moved his thigh against hers and curled his left leg round hers to support her there, as he moaned softly against her lips. The coarse fabric of his hood brushed against her forehead as he bent down low to reach her lips and he lightly encircled her wrist with his fingers, sliding his hand up the length of her arm tantalizingly.
She thought she heard him whisper her name, as he turned his head to deepen the kiss, cupping her chin with shaking fingers, but she wasn’t sure.
Forever passed and they were still there, intertwined.
Then, as suddenly as they had come together, they broke apart, gasping for breath as if they had been underwater.
Robin’s chest was heaving and for a moment he leaned his forehead against hers. She felt his weight on her, as though he needed her support to steady himself.
Rosa finally opened her eyes and lifted them to his face, trying to discern his expression, but his eyes were closed and he was still panting. His breath caressed her forehead, her cheeks, her hair and as she breathed in his presence, time seemed to come to a standstill.
Then, without a word or a glance he turned and left, as abruptly as he had come, leaving her swaying in the sudden cold of his absence.
She fingered her swollen lips with reverence and suddenly she sank to the ground.
CHAPTER 4
THE PRINCESS
Rosa didn’t even think of going back to the castle after Robin Hood and his choicest companions left to confront the Sheriff’s men. For one thing, there would be such a to-do there, what with her father’s temper and waiting for news from the guards that no one would notice her missing. And for another, she knew Sir Hugh would realize how dangerous it would be for her to venture alone into the forest at a time like this. If however he should decide to come searching for her, let him come. He surely would not be more lethal than the iron-clad men combing the forest at the moment.
She tried to be calm and to not think about the horrible fate that awaited any of the green-hooded men, should they fall into the Sheriff’s men’s hands. Instead, she set about to find some work and was surprised at how many things needed to be done around the camp.
Time flew while she worked and busied herself, constantly berating herself for her soft hands and her pampered body, that were was unused to such hard labor. She gritted her teeth and determined never to show how much her back hurt or that her fingers were already bleeding. The sun began to lose its splendor and she found out she could no longer see clearly to sew the heavy woolen cloak she was mending, so she put it aside and glanced around her.
The shadows had lengthened in the camp, and men were hurrying about, ge
tting ready to prepare the day’s meal. But something was different. There were no joyous shouts, nor gentle melodies from Alan’s harp. A conspicuous silence accompanied the clatter of knives and pots and even though there were not many men absent, the place had a look of desertedness.
Rosa got up from her seat on the bark of the central oak tree painstakingly and approached the man who was usually in charge of the preparation of dinner. Today, however, Friar Tuck, contrary to his usual energetic movements around the camp, was seated in the same place she had seen him hours before, fingering his rosary, his eyes shut and his lips moving. She touched him gently on the shoulder and he opened his eyes. She wanted to ask if there was any news, but one glance at his sad countenance silenced her.
“I don’t think I will quit my post just yet, my dear,” he told her in his deep, serene voice.
“They do need your prayers, good father,” she replied, her heart tightening with fear. She tried to drive it away.
“And yours, too, fair maiden; and yours too.”
Rosa looked at him, bewildered. It hadn’t entered her mind, with all the worrying she did, that she could add her prayers to that of the good friar’s. Praying was reserved for priests; or at least for when one was inside the church. Wasn’t it?
“Anyone can pray to the good Lord, Rose. And He hears,” the good friar insisted, as if he had read her mind.
“What words must I say, father?” she asked.
“Those that are in your heart,” he answered simply.
So she tried it. Someone sent her to fill a pail of water and she picked it up and carried it easily to the stream. And as she walked, she prayed.
“Please keep them from harm. Please make them safe. Please let no one be injured, or worse… Please, bring Robin back.”