Robyn Hood: A Girl's Tale

by K. M. Shea

  “Hey listen up! Robyn is speaking!” Will Stutely yelled over my Merry Men. Thank God his big mouth can come in some use.

  The twelve Merry Men clustered around, many of them straining over each to look at me. “Here’s the plan. There are two gates that go into Nottingham. We’ll divide up into two groups. Scarlet and I will be in charge of the first one, which will go into the west gate. Little John will lead the second group, which will enter the north gate. We will enter Nottingham in groups of threes, evenly spaced out on the road. We don’t want to look suspicious! At the archery contest you are NOT to talk to your fellow Merry Men! Do NOT watch me, unless I am shooting and you are not! We do not want to draw undue attention to ourselves,” I said as my men nodded in agreement. “You will all exit Nottingham the same way you came, the same gate and in groups of three. We will meet up at the edge of Sherwood.”

  My men nodded their heads and we divided up. Will Stutely and Little John led the two groups going into the north gate. Scarlet, I, and one newer merry man named Hob, entered the west gate together. The rest of my merry men entered five minutes later in a group of four.

  Nottingham was a good sized castle with a big keep in the southern part, which was walled off from the rest of the city. A huge market was in the center of the castle, which was where most of the fair was taking place. However, all of the tournaments and animal competitions were outside, in a field that was east of the city.

  Scarlet and Hob stuck close to me as I craned my neck, trying to spot the signup area for the archery contest. The ox-like Little John stuck out like a sore thumb, but I made my eyes ease over him.

  “There it is,” I told Scarlet and Hob before slithering in between large men to make my way to the stand. Scarlet and Hob scrambled after me like chipmunks.

  All of us were dressed in dirtied peasant clothes, and we all had our own bows. I used my old bow. A fancy long bow would look way too out of place with my tattered peasant disguise.

  Against my better judgment, my Merry Men and I were wearing our lincoln green uniforms underneath the peasant clothes. It was incredible daring of us, but mostly it made us staggeringly hot.

  I swaggered up to the stand, Hob and Scarlet flanking me, and started talking to the steward who was recording the names of the contestants. “Oy! Me and me brothers wont to enter yer contest!” I said.

  The steward was a young man who carefully looked us up and down. “What are your names?” he asked in a clear voice. Although I’m sure he had done this dozens of times he looked sharp and aware, almost like he was looking for someone. (Most likely me.)

  “I’m Rob, this is Hob, and he’s Will!” I proudly said.

  I watched the steward fill our names out on the list. “You are in the third heat, the contest starts in half an hour. Good luck,” he said, his eyes resting on Will Scarlet for a moment. “Next!” he called. Hob, Scarlet, and I scuttled out of the way as Little John and his group came up. Thankfully they had the sense to each go up separately, so there weren’t four groups of brothers. Even the Sheriff might have stopped to ponder that obvious puzzle.

  My bodyguards and I strolled out of the castle and walked over to the field where we watched a few cow judging contests and some wrestling matches before heading towards the archery range.

  As we rounded a corner we came to a stand where the local lords and the Sheriff of Nottingham were seated. I easily spotted Marian, pouting as she slouched between her father and mother. However, I was more bent on searching out the Sheriff of Nottingham, my self proclaimed worst enemy.

  I didn’t find him, mostly because I didn’t know what he looked like. “Hob,” I whispered. “Which one is the sheriff?”

  “The fat man on the big chair in the middle,” Will Scarlet answered for Hob. “I’ve talked with him before, when my family still held their title.”

  I looked for a big chair and quickly found it. It was monstrosity perched precariously on a platform, painted the gaudiest of reds. I raised my eyebrow when I finally set eyes on my arch nemesis. The Sheriff of Nottingham was a fat individual with bushy gray-brown hair. He was pale and snobby looking with a big beer gut to boot.

  “He’s not much to look at,” I scoffed.

  Hob chuckled and Will smiled but bumped me forward, effectively moving us on.

  The watchful steward who had recorded all of our names was running up to the Sheriff as we found a spot to stand until it was our turn. He waved his arms as he showed the Sheriff the list before running up on a small stand and shouting, “Announcing the start of the archery tournament! There are fifteen stalls to stand in, and at each heat the top five shooters will progress to the next heat. There is a grand total of…” he paused to count it up. “Six heats! The last five men will go up against the Sheriff of Nottingham! The winner will receive the golden arrow!” he shouted, getting hoarse.

  I watched Little John and one other Merry Man, Robert, step up into a stall for the first round. They didn’t shoot their best on purpose, but they were in the top five. (This is mostly because only about six people managed to actually hit the target which was about eighty feet away.)

  The steward did some more shouting, but I tuned him out as I supported my weight on my bow, unconcerned about the contest. Hob was biting his nails and Scarlet was suspiciously gazing at the sky, as though a giant bird might pick me up and carry me off.

  The second round was about the same, only this time in addition to Little John and Robert, Will Stutely and four other merry men stepped up. I saw them exchange darting glances, seeing who would purposely lose so no one would become suspicious. This time only Will and Little John progressed to my heat.

  “Don’t hit the center,” Little John growled for my ears only as Hob and I strolled up to some stalls on either side of him.

  “Do you really think I am that stupid?” I asked.

  Little John didn’t reply and instead took aim as the steward shouted at us to aim and fire. I notched my arrow and made my arm shake as I aimed and let it go. It hit the target, hitting the outmost ring of the bulls eye.

  Scarlet, Hob, and Stutely and I progressed to the next heat, where one more Merry Man competed with us. It was much of the same thing. The crowds roared, cheering on their favorite archer. I again hit the outmost ring, this time at a different position, and only Scarlet and I went to the fifth heat.

  As we waited while the sharp steward yelled out more instructions, I could feel Marian’s eyes on me. We were close enough that I could see her out of the corner of my eye, and I’m sure if she had spoken I could have heard her. I wanted to scowl at her. She was drawing unnecessary attention on me.

  I felt her father lean over. “Has a certain archer caught your eye, daughter?” he teased.

  Marian blushed and glanced away, properly chastised, or so I thought. “I think he’s going to win,” she confidently said.

  Her father chuckled. “We shall see about that,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

  I gulped and walked back out to the field, Scarlet walking near me as we heard Hob yelling “Ook! It’s me brothers Rob and Will!” He was one of a loud crowd of a hundred or more, and very few people paid attention.

  My last Merry Man, Ryan, was in this heat in addition to Scarlet and I. This time Scarlet purposely lost and Ryan won, making Ryan and I two of the five people to progress to the sixth heat where we would all face off. The best archer would go against the Sheriff.

  I glanced around as I notched my arrow and slowly drew it up to my ear. I purposely aimed my arrow a little too high, hitting the second to outermost ring. The other peasants hit the edges of the target, and Ryan hit the outermost ring, making me the winner.

  I was uneasy and nervous as the fat Sheriff waddled over to me, carrying a long bow.

  The steward was yelling again, but I didn’t pay attention and instead kept my eyes trained on the target, trying to ignore my beating heart as the Sheriff grumbled. To my surprise the target was moved back until it was about 100 feet away, w
ay out of reach of my normal bow. That explained why the sheriff had the long bow. Even if he didn’t hit the target he would get closer to it than I would with my normal bow.

  I scowled at the injustice of it and the peasant folk booed. Hob yelled out curses about the unfairness of it while Scarlet watched the Sheriff with hard eyes.

  Marian’s loud voice erupted from the pit of booing peasants. “That’s not fair! Give him a longbow!” she yelled, hopping up with anger as her mother and father tried to get her to sit back down. Her fury seemed to encourage the crowd, who also yelled.

  “Give ‘im a long bow!”

  “The Injustice!” (That, I could tell, was Will Stutely.)

  “Boo on the Sheriff!”

  “ e’s cheating!”

  The Sheriff of Nottingham turned and yelled. “QUIET!” he glanced around a moment before continuing. He sounded like a worried sheep. “Do you think I would be that unfair to my competitor?” he bleated. “Of course I was going to let him borrow my long bow after my shot!” he eloquently baa-ed.

  The crowd seemed to settle down with his words and he grumbled some more as he turned around and shot the long bow.

  He was a surprisingly good shot, hitting the target in the second ring.

  The Sheriff nodded, satisfied with himself, before turning to me. A small hunting knife appeared in his hand as he smiled and started chatting with me. “Good luck lad. You’ll need it!” he laughed as the crowd cheered. When he handed me the bow his hunting knife was gone, but after a moment of inspection I found that he had weakened the string, sawing it until it was on the verge of breaking.

  I turned around, still holding the long bow. My eyes ran across the crowd, hoping someone would see my situation and tell me what to do.

  Hob was still jumping and screaming, Scarlet was watching the Sheriff with narrowed eyes, I think he wanted to hurt him. Stutely and my other Merry Men were shouting, cheering me on, and Little John watched me with concern, able to tell that something was wrong from the way I was hesitating. (Marian was jumping up and down in the stands, screaming her lungs out as her mother covered her own face, trying to avoid anyone’s gaze. Her father, the Earl, laughed.)

  I scowled, the Sheriff of Nottingham was a cheater, and I would die before letting him get away with this. I threw his useless longbow down and instead confidentially drew one of my arrows out of my quiver and took aim with my old, familiar bow. I eyed the target, aiming for the center, and pulled the string back as far as it could go. I knew I was over straining it and I would need to replace it after this, but my blood was boiling with anger.

  I narrowed my eyes in concentration, blocking out the sounds of the crowd, pulling my string back one more inch before letting it fly. The arrow flew straight and true but the string snapped in my hand, making a deep cut on my palm.

  I could hear the air whistling as my arrow drove toward its target, I prayed it would stay in the air long enough to hit it. I squeezed my eyes shut at the last second, hoping.

  There was a solid thump, and I opened an eye. I smiled and opened both eyes as the crowd roared with excitement. My arrow had gone true and hit the dead center of the target.

  The Sheriff’s jaw dropped, and he looked as intelligent as the cows at the cow contest. It wasn’t until his steward started whispering in his ear that he clamped his jaw shut and pasted a fake smile in place.

  I slowly approached the pair, the Sheriff was shaking his head as the steward kept his attention. I tossed my broken bow to Scarlet and looked down to inspect my hand when the young steward stepped back and listened to the sheriff’s bleats with well falsified concern.

  Blood dripped out of the cut in my palm, but I wasn’t too worried. Much was a pro at bandaging my wounds, and really my fingers were more important than my palm.

  “And the winner is Mr…,” the Sheriff growled, trailing off until the steward whispered in his ear again. “Mr. Rob,” he said as he unceremoniously grabbed the golden arrow off the pillow and thrust it in my general direction, glaring at me.

  I held my hand in a fist, trying to minimize the surface area of the wound. It was bleeding more than I thought it would. “Thank yee sir,” I respectfully uttered.

  “You’re welcome… ROBIN HOOD!” the Sheriff roared as he grabbed my arm.

  His mistake, not mine.

  Little John released his wild bear roar, and Scarlet snarled like wild cat blood pumped through his veins. The crowd broke out in chaos.

  Little John twirled his cudgel over his head before smacking the Sheriff in the stomach. The Sherriff heaved a coughing gasp, releasing me to grip his gut. Little John moved on to exchange a few blows with the steward as Scarlet ripped me away, braining guards left and right with his sheathed sword.

  The crowd scurried on top of each other like regular rats. Some of the peasants hefted homegrown vegetables at the soldiers who pursued Scarlet and I.

  My Merry Men shed their peasant clothes and systematically weaved through the surging crowds, following our trail.

  I ripped myself out of Will Scarlet’s grasp to my our flight easier. I lead the way, jumping over barrels and sacks that were in my path. I quickly counted our number before increasing the speed when we were out of the fair grounds.

  We easily lost the sheriff’s men, running in suits of armor isn’t a joke. We ran like the swift thieves that we were all the way back to Sherwood Forest. The trumpet of a loud horn made us all turn around. My blood turned cold as I saw men on horseback thundering after us.

  “Hurry!” I shouted before snatching Hob’s bow from his hands. I stopped for the moment and released several arrows at the horsemen, who were quickly drawling near.

  I hit three of them, wounding their arms so they fell off their horses. The other ten, however, continued to pursue us. Glancing behind I noticed that my men were almost to the wood’s edge, so I held my ground. I would stay until they were safe, no matter the cost. (My cowardly ways always flee before my loyalty to my men.)

  Planting my feet, I shot off two more arrows, hitting a target both times. I spun around and sprinted to the forest as the two closest horsemen leaned over, one to and unsheathed his sword and the other to aim his bow. I cringed, expecting a blow to come, but to my surprise there was a clash of metal and the sound of splintering wood. Seconds later the horseman’s sword fell to the ground before he slumped over, and the sounds of a yelling man filled my ears. I looked over my shoulder to see Scarlet grimly running after me, his sword unsheathed, and Little John grinning contently at his staff. (Somehow they had circled around behind me.)

  I shook my head and we pressed on, leaping into the forest and weaving through the trees as the men attempted to press their steeds into the woods. “Little John, head to the creek to make sure the men all made it safely,” I ordered.

  Little John glared at me before telling Scarlet, “Take care of her.” He then slipped off to the side, disappearing from view. The horsemen, who were having a hard time keeping track of us, ignored him. I was their target.

  “Scarlet, go with him,” I ordered as I jumped over a fallen trunk, to my dismay the horses easily cleared it. “I’ll meet up with everyone at camp later tonight,” I said as I made a sharp turn, making several of the horses swerve.

  “Nice try Robin Hood,” Scarlet grunted. “I am not going to leave your side,” he staunchly said.

  “Will, go!” I said more firmly.

  “No,” Scarlet stubbornly vowed. “I’m your man, Robyn, but I’m also your friend.”

  I glared at him as we both heavily panted, soaked in sweat. “Well then, do you have any bright ideas?” I asked as I grabbed hold of a tree branch and threw myself across the small, rocky stream ahead of us.

  “Nope,” Scarlet said as he did the same. We landed with a roll on the other side of the bank, glancing over our shoulders before we got up and continued running. “The scenery’s very grand though,” he offhandedly volunteered.

  “Scarlet,” I scoffed. “If you’re going
to waste our breath than at least talk about a plan!” I said as we dodged a large tree that was in the center of our path. As we burst out on either side of it we startled Crafty, who had a piece of lincoln green fabric in his mouth. (Poor Much, Crafty must have gotten loose and wandered off again.)

  “We aren’t near the camp…,” Scarlet said, sounding confused.

  “Don’t question it!” I ordered as I leaped onto Crafty’s back without hesitation. Will was behind me a second later, his arms snaking around my waist to grab Crafty’s thick mane.

  I glanced over my shoulder to spot the horsemen closing in on us.

  “Do you think you can steer him?” Scarlet asked.

  “If they can do it, I can do it,” I grimly decided before heeling Crafty as I reached out to grab my own tuff of mane.

  Crafty took off with a snort, no doubt complaining about lugging both Scarlet and myself around. He smoothly swerved around any fallen logs or bushes in our path and ambled through the forest at a smooth canter, ignoring the screaming men behind us. Thinking back to the times when Marian forced me to ride, I used my legs to steer the cunning horse, who was doing a good job of it on his own.

  Looking ahead I shouted. “Duck!” before I leaned down onto Crafty’s neck while Scarlet leaned against my back. The rider behind us was taken out by the thick branch we had avoided.

  I felt Will turn around as I straightened up. “Four are left, how are you going to lose them?” he asked as Crafty grunted again, angrily laying his ears flat as he protested his large burden.

  “I’m going to collect the bounty!” I heard a horseman yell before I could respond. Scarlet and I twisted around to see a mounted soldier quickly coming up behind us.

  “Scarlet,” I shouted. “Try to unseat him!” I ordered. However, before he could do anything, Crafty made another irritated noise and slowed down until the horse was next to us. The second it was he body slammed it, startling the horse as Will Scarlet reached out and shoved the rider off the animal.

  “Crafty is aptly named,” Will Scarlet observed. “I guess that’s…three?” he bewilderedly added as I faced forward again. There was a flash of green on my left side, and Crafty slowed down, skidding to a stop as he swung around to face our aggressors, who were now cornered.