by M. C. Frank
She tried to direct her thoughts to God, but she didn’t know how. She tried to close her eyes and imagine she was sitting in the confessional, beside a priest, but it didn’t help. Then she looked up in the sky, and that felt more right. She didn’t know who to address her prayer to, but she tried to peek through the thick foliage of trees and think that Someone was looking down on her, Someone strong and good, who heard her prayers and would see to it that they were answered.
Soon she reached the water, and all thoughts of prayer flew from her mind as she concentrated on trying to fill the pail. It was harder than she had thought possible, for as soon as she lowered it into the gently flowing stream, its weight became unbearable for her slender arms, and she had to turn it sideways, or she would drop it. Thus, she didn’t collect more than three inches of water. She bent down and tried to summon all her strength, and by the third effort she managed to stagger upright with the pail full of water. Now she had to carry it, though. She took a deep breath and, lifting it with all her might, she tried to take a step. And then another.
Walking like a drunkard, swinging this way and that under the great weight, she’d made little progress, when she felt the weight lifted off her shoulder and a strong hand supporting her as she stumbled and almost fell. She turned around in surprise and her heart leaped inside her. It was him.
She almost threw her arms around him in her joy, but stopped herself just in time. The gentle smile that was hovering in his eyes told her that he must have seen her sudden movement, but underneath his mouth was hard and a deep frown was marring his fine brow.
“Master, you’re back!” she said, almost dreading the news he brought, even in the midst of all her joy.
“Who made you carry this, is what I would like to know,” he said angrily, as if he hadn’t heard her. “Is this now they treat you when my back is turned?”
“No, I wanted to help…” she began to say, surprised at his words. Of all the things she had expected to be on his lips when he returned this was not one. “I would hate it if I were treated like some kind of weakling, or worse, like a lady who-”
“You are not a lady,” he interrupted her, towering above her, his black eyes fixed on hers in a way that made her heart stop beating for a few seconds. “Not a mere lady,” he continued, easily balancing the heavy pail in one hand while he spoke. “You are a princess.”
Fear gripped her at his words, fear that he had found out her secret. Had he met someone in the woods today who had given her away? Was this the reason that the words came out of his lips with so much intensity and anger?
“I am hardly that, master,” she said cautiously, but he spoke again before she was through.
“Yes, you are. In this forest, among Robin Hood’s men, you are a princess.” He swore softly. “Contrary to how we may treat you,” and he emphasized the ‘we’, for what reason she did not know, “you are a true lady here, and far above that.”
Relief flooded through her, for even without understanding the exact meaning of his cryptic words, she knew he meant something else than her true status and her birth. Her knees sagged as the panic of discovery passed, and he quickly put the pail down with a loud splash to catch her in his arms, for he mistook her relief for weakness and fatigue.
“Rest awhile,” he said, his voice a gentle whisper close to her ear, as he eased her on the soft grass, “while I refill this accursed pail and then you’ll tell me what these brutes have put you through during my absence.” He took off towards the stream and was back a mere blink of the eyelid later, shaming all of Rosa’s previous efforts to fill the bucket.
She smiled wryly to herself, but her mind was still flooded with questions and worries.
“I would rather know what passed in the forest today,” she said as soon as he had settled on the ground beside her.
He turned his face away from her slightly, not speaking at once, and as he did she saw a slight scar running the length of his jawbone. The blood on it was dried and it did not appear to be deep, but it was fresh and that fact bespoke of a danger close enough that frightened her even though it was, for the moment, passed.
Watching him, she suddenly realized that a tear was trickling down his sun-burnt cheek and his jaw was working, in an effort to keep more from coming. Slowly she placed her fingers on top of his and leaned against his strong arm. To her surprise, he didn’t remove his hand.
Then he finally spoke, in a voice trembling and gruff, and she felt her heart breaking for him.
“They took Will,” was all he managed to say.
Rosa’s heart stopped. That was worse than anyone being injured.
“I fought,” Robin continued, his voice breaking, “I fought as hard as I knew how. But it wasn’t enough. They took him. Alive, of course, I mean. I wish he had been killed.”
“No, don’t say that, master,” she said urgently. “I’m sure you do not wish so, for now there is the hope that you can free him and…”
“You know well there is no hope of that,” he said brusquely. “You of all people, living in the castle, you should have heard of tales about the dungeons, how closely they are guarded. That is nigh on impossible.”
She had heard tales about the dungeons, and she had even visited a portion of the famous prison. That’s why she said what she did next.
“It is impossible for most men. But most men are not Robin Hood.”
Robin turned and looked at her, his heart in his eyes. Then he abruptly faced away.
“My girl, you…” he murmured in a choked voice and the rest of what he was going to say was drowned out by a pitiful, muffled sound.
Rosa looked at him in surprise. Suddenly she realized that his shoulders were shaking, and, her heart breaking for him, she put a tentative hand on his sleeve.
He turned to her abruptly and buried his head in her neck, his arms crushing her to him desperately. She held him as he cried in strong, manly sobs that racked his whole body, and felt tears stinging her own eyes at the sound of his almost inhuman pain.
The sudden realization hit her, as she waited for his despair to subside, that he was little more than a lad himself, forced to fight the battles of a thousand men. Hundreds begging to be rescued, everyone expecting of him the impossible and yet he still fearlessly, relentlessly strove for what was right.
Rosa held him tightly, helplessly, but soon he had himself in control again and he got to his feet, after gently holding her against him for a second.
She stood next to him and he retrieved the pail in one easy movement. Then he started walking in measured strides, so that she could follow his pace easily. Suddenly, he turned to face her.
“Rose,” he said and stopped.
“Yes, master?” she asked, still feeling a little shaky from they way they had touched only moments ago.
“You will not leave my side when we go out there, and I’ll have to face them, will you?”
“I won’t,” she answered, trying to calm her racing heart.
“Good,” he said.
Afterwards, he insisted that it would be too dangerous for her to spend another night in the forest and almost forced her on her horse, just as the torches were being lit around the campfire. Rosa did not protest overly, even though she hated to leave him, because she knew the danger of which he spoke was far greater for himself and his men if she stayed.
As she mounted her horse, her spirits were very low indeed; for she feared that this had been her last excursion into the forest. For all she knew tomorrow could be her wedding day, and the execution of Will Scarlet a wedding present from her father to Sir Hugh. She shuddered violently at this thought, and Robin noticed.
“You are cold,” he said reproachfully and quickly removed his cloak to put it around her shoulders. Rosa wanted to protest, for she thought the reproach was intended for her weakness, but she knew if she spoke, the tears that were gathered in her eyes would finally spill.
To reproach her was as far from Robin’s thoughts as anything. Hi
s mind was working in quite another direction.
He still berated himself for that kiss. He had so worried about keeping her safe, and had finally gone and done such a dishonorable thing to her himself. He’d mentally kicked himself a thousand times since this morning.
He had felt so afraid when he had ridden into the forest this morning. It had been worse than he let everyone believe. They had faced death this day, and he had known beforehand that it would be so. Will’s capture had been the Sheriff’s men’s prize, and they had left them alone after that, not willing to risk their lives to unseen arrows anymore.
That’s why the rest of his band had escaped unscathed.
But their enemies had now Will to use as a bait, to torture, to plan to execute again and again until Robin could bear it no more and would go and try to free him. And then they would catch them all. Except… Rose had said she believed he could do it. Was it possible he could once again fool the Sheriff, especially now that he seemed to hold them in his hand? No, the girl simply overestimated his strength. It was a consolation, nothing more.
Yes, he had been afraid that morning and for good reason. But he had faced danger, even certain death, before. And it was always with a smile on his face, mocking death even as it approached. What had changed now?
It was she, he knew it.
She was the reason he was afraid. From the first day he saw her, even dressed as a boy, he’d known fear, fear he had sworn he never would feel again. Fear for her safety; fear that he would lose her. Fear that he would never lay eyes on her lovely face again, or that he would never be heartened by her courageous words again. That’s what had made him turn his horse around and take her in his arms. He’d kissed her hungrily, desperately, and he was ashamed of himself now to remember it, for she had been a maiden sweet and innocent before he had dishonored her in such a coward’s way; but he had done it, and couldn’t take it back.
It was true that it was because of her kiss that he’d fought like a lion; that he’d rushed from one group of his men to the other and back, that he’d been everywhere at once, defending his men like a bear awakened from his sleep. It was with the taste of her sweet lips on his that he had defied death and hadn’t cared whether he ever got back to the roaring fire of the camp.
It was a kiss worth dying for.
But he had been wrong to take it from her. And when he got back, and saw her struggling like a common maidservant, with a pail large enough to fit her whole inside, his anger had exploded. It was true, she was indeed a servant, but to him she was a princess, a queen even, someone to revere and serve and protect. What was he doing to her by encouraging her visits? Putting her in grave danger and risking her reputation and even her virtue itself, as of today.
And now she was cold.
Was it not enough that she counted her life as naught so as to serve him that he would knowingly endanger her health too?
He took off his heavy green cloak and fastened it around her slender white neck, trying not to come in contact with her velvet skin, his fingers shaking. The least he could do was try to keep his filthy hands away from her. He didn’t dare even look at her, but he knew he couldn’t resist for long.
Eventually he turned to face her and saw that she was fighting against tears.
He froze. His horse stumbled to a stop and he felt like laying himself at her feet and begging her to forgive him. She stopped a few paces ahead of him and turned questioning eyes to his face.
“Are you unhappy?” he asked, his voice strange, hoarse, unrecognizable.
“I think you are too,” she retorted.
Robin hung his head in shame. She was right. He had no right to ask her, especially since he knew he was the source of her distress.
“I have good reason to be,” he replied, still not looking at her, wondering about how he could ever apologize to her.
“My heart aches for your friend, master, too, but worry not, I am sure-”
Her gentle voice, trying to console him, made him feel even guiltier. He spoke fast, not being able to bear her kindness.
“It is my regret and shame that more pains me right now, fair maiden. My friend’s fate is at least not of my own making.”
“Regret for what?” she sounded truly perplexed and shocked. Ah, I should have known she would not hold it against me, he thought.
“I did today something despicable, something beyond dishonor. I swear to you, fair Rose, if I had seen another man do what I did to you this morning, he would not have lived to see the sunup,” he said with sudden vehemence.
Rosa’s mouth almost dropped open and her eyes went round with surprise for a minute. She had thought he’d forgotten all about it -after all what was she to him, but a poor kitchen maid who worshipped the ground he walked on? And of those surely there were two dozens to be found at the tavern Robin and his men visited of a lonely night. But then she understood. The tears finally ran down her face, as she realized his contempt for her weakness.
Robin saw her tears, and, disgusted with himself, threw his legs over from the saddle and flew into the forest on foot, not willing to let her see the violence of his remorse.
He came to a halt a few steps away from her, for the darkness was thick as a veil around them, ripe with unseen dangers, and he didn’t dare leave her alone. He covered his eyes with his palm and sighed in exasperation with himself, trying to think of words adequate enough to beg for her forgiveness.
The moments passed by, and still he did not move, immobile in his shame.
Rosa spoke at last, her voice low and timid, but Robin heard, for even as he ran from her his ears were alert to her voice and he was prepared to rush at her side at the first sign of distress.
“Forgive me master, for my impulse earlier this morning; it was only my fear for your safety that drove me to…”
“Forgive you?” Robin cut her off and came to stand next to her horse in a few long strides, not believing his ears. “Forgive you, my sweet maiden, you who have nothing but goodness and bravery in your heart? Forgive you your patience with the manners of a boar like me? Or forgive you your maidenhood and the sweet spell you’ve cast upon me ever since I first saw you? No, it is I who must beg your forgiveness for acting like a cad, for forcing myself on you.” He stopped as fiercely as he had begun, resisting the urge to fall on one knee before her, like a serf.
Rosa was looking at him in wonder, and then her face slowly broke into a smile so lovely it made his heart ache.
“I thought you regretted it, master,” she said simply, rendering him speechless once more. “No, there is no need for you to apologize. Indeed, I must thank you, for my first kiss was given me by a man I so greatly admire and respect.”
His face turned up to hers, his eyes watering with an emotion he had never felt before in his life, Robin Hood slowly sank to his knees in front of the red-headed maiden, seated regally atop her horse. He stayed there, speechless, until Rosa dismounted and knelt before him, too, her eyes locked with his. They stared at each other, a million words passing silently between them.
Then Robin lifted his hand to tenderly caress her cheek and she closed her eyes, savoring his touch. He leaned yet closer and whispered in a trembling voice,
“Your first kiss, you said? That was your first kiss, my maid? I regret that it was taken and not given by your own free will.”
“Oh but it was,” Rosa replied, her own arms moving to embrace him. “As is this.”
As soon as she reached towards him, Robin pulled her to him with a shuddering breath, as though he could not help himself.
This time he tried to be more gentle as he kissed her slowly, savoring her taste and he was surprised to feel the wetness of tears on his cheeks again. It was strange that this mere slip of a girl should move him so deeply, should steal his thoughts and his breath, and should draw tears from his eyes and blood from his heart, merely by saying that she wanted to kiss him. But so it was.
Once again, they sank into each other, their lips meetin
g and their hearts soaring to the skies.
They kissed kneeling there, their bodies meeting to press together, their hands locked in tight embrace. Robin ran his fingers tenderly over the length of her cheek, and he crushed his lips to her neck, the stubble on his chin tickling her deliciously. She sighed and leaned against his chest, supported on the muscle of his shoulder as she melted against him.
They couldn’t bear to be parted yet, so, without speaking, they kissed for a few precious moments longer, sharing an intimacy neither had thought possible before, not knowing that from a spot well-concealed somewhere amid the thick bushes, they were being watched.
…
Little Ben pushed his sandy hair away from his face with an impatient gesture. His limbs felt a bit numb after crouching down among the bushes for so long, but it had been worth it.
He glanced towards the red-haired lady’s grey horse, as it vanished around a bend on the way to the castle. It was too late now to go after her himself, he decided. His news could wait for the morrow. And so could the generous payment from the lady with the yellow hair.
She had been dressed beautifully; even more so than Lady Rosa did on festivals, but there was a kind of evil in her eyes that frightened him. But she had promised him a lavish reward if he brought her the information she was after, and his father would welcome the money.
Eloise, that’s the name she was called by, he remembered it now.
Ben himself could do with an additional bite of bread, or maybe even a chunk of meat thrown in the thin, watered-down broth his mother cooked these days. At twelve years old, he wasn’t the eldest of his siblings but he looked more like seven. Underfed and poorly clothed, he wasn’t unlike most children of the village. And with winter coming soon, he considered himself lucky to have found even this small source of income. If he played his cards smartly, he might make it last a bit longer.