Robyn Hood: Fight For Freedom

by Shea, K. M.

  “See, that was cheating. You hurt him before he swore,” Little John calmly coached.

  By this time Will Stutely and Much had stumbled far enough down the road to catch up.

  “Robyn, no good,” Much panted.

  “Knight, left,” Will Stutely heaved.

  “Really? What happened?” I asked, straightening up.

  “Marian,” Much wheezed.

  “Oh. Well, all is well that ends well,” I said, yanking my hand out of Little John’s grip. “Dear abbots, allow me to introduce myself,” I said, taking several steps away from my men before fixing my dashing smile on my lips. Gone was the whiny, cowardly Robyn. “I am Robin Hood, and welcome to Sherwood Forest, my humble abode,” I said with a flashy bow I learned from watching George at Nottingham castle. “These are some of my Merry Men. This giant here is Little John, my second in command,” I said, pointing to Little John as Will Scarlet walked up to me and tossed an arm over my shoulder.

  Little John nodded at the abbots and rested his cudgel on his shoulder.

  “Over there is Much and Will Stutely, my childhood friends and first and second Merry Men.”

  “Greetings,” Much breathed, finally able to stand upright.

  “Why do we always have to be introduced together in a single sentence?” Will Stutely complained.

  “And this man,” I said, indicating to Will Scarlet, who still had his arm on my shoulder. “Is Will Scarlet, my…second-second in command?” I wondered. I was always hesitant when introducing Will Scarlet. I didn’t really know how to describe his place in the band.

  “Almost,” Will Scarlet said, winking at the abbots. “More like this,” he said before kissing my cheek.

  “Would you get OFF me?” I said, pushing him away before scrubbing at my cheek with the back of my right hand, giving Scarlet a withering glare.

  I turned back to the monks and pleasantly smiled. “Men, it would bring me great pleasure if you would dine with us for lunch. The good Friar Tuck will be there, I am sure he would enjoy speaking to you about… Godly things,” I said, flourishing with my hand.

  The abbots were quiet for a moment. “It would be our honor,” the head monk decided.

  “Excellent. One moment please,” I said, clapping my hands before turning to my men. “Did Crafty happen to follow you?”

  “No. Thankfully,” Much said, glaring at the new hole in his green tunic.

  “Why?” Will Stutely asked.

  “I don’t want to have to track him through the forest for the whole day again,” I sighed before bringing my horn to my lips. I blew three times before returning it to my side. “I’ll dispatch two men to herd him back to camp.”

  “Excellent plan,” Will Stutely piped in. “I’m very grateful you aren’t sending us after him.”

  “I have worse things planned for you,” I said before turning to the monks. “You’ll have to give me a minute or two. There are tasks and missions that must be given out. As soon as my men arrive and I break down the day we will be free to return to camp.”

  “Do all of your men come to your horn?” a monk inquired.

  “No. That would bring about utter chaos,” I laughed in the manliest voice I could muster.

  “We rotate duties,” Much told the monks. “Every day the men are divided up. Some are assigned guard duties, others go to the road for… uh… robbing, and many stay behind in the morning to train, hunt, and maintain our camp grounds. Every day a group of Merry Men are assigned to come to Robyn’s call on the horn. Unless he blows three times, and then three times again some time later. Then we all come as quickly as possible,” he finished.

  “And here they are,” I said as twenty five Merry Men popped out of the forest, wanting to know what was wrong.

  “Are these blackguard abbots, Robyn?” Lobb shouted.

  “Shut your trap and listen,” Ryan hissed.

  “Robyn’s about to speak. SHHH,” Gilbert announced.

  “Men, these abbots will be enjoying our protection and hospitality for the morning. Remember that,” I shouted. My Merry Men hushed themselves and listened to me. “They will be eating lunch with us and perhaps enjoy a ballad or two sung by Alan-A-Dale. But before we dine there are several tasks that need to be completed. Ryan, take Lobb and Gilbert and sweep the road. Make sure it’s ready for King Richard, bless his soul, and his wretched procession. Most importantly, be sure to get rid of the pebbles from yesterday. That was very fortunate that King Richard’s horse got the pebble rammed in his hoof, but we’ll wait to see if it’s necessary to throw more today if they keep up that incessant trumpeting.”

  “Right Robyn!” Ryan bowed before motioning to Lobb and Gilbert. The three were gone in a flash.

  “Rob, I’m sorry, but I need you and David to go get Crafty. You can take a dried apple or two from his barrel. That should put him in better spirits,” I continued.

  “Yes Robyn,” Rob winced before disappearing with another Merry Man, David.

  “Hob, Tom. I know I already sent out a hunting group this morning, but I did not expect to feed a herd of monks. I need you to go out and bag some more game,” I said, slowly ticking down my mental list of chores.

  “You got it,” Hob winked before heading to the woods with Tom.

  “Don’t be excessive!” I called after them before turning my attention onto another Merry Man. “Fisk, please run ahead to camp and let everyone know what is going on. I don’t want to enter the camp and find Marian prancing around, brandishing a sword over her head, again.”

  “Yes sir!” Fisk, a very eager trainee, saluted before taking off, running through the forest.

  “If a group of you could watch the road and keep and eye on King Richard that would be excellent. I don’t want a repeat of that time his procession nearly ran into that traitorous snake of a lord that lives in Prince John’s pocket. We cannot have an assassination attempt on our King in our forest. That is all, thank you,” I said before turning to the abbots. “Please, our camp is this way,” I said before leading the way into the forest, Little John and Will Scarlet walking on either side of me.

  As I led us through the trees, Merry Man flashing in and out of view as they followed the monks and I, I heard the head abbot mutter, “His men are more at his bidding then mine are at mine.”

  We reached the camp after half an hour to an hour of walking. (They may be monks but I am not stupid. I would never lead a stranger to my camp without taking a winding, confusing, impossible to trace path there.)

  “Hail, Robin Hood!” several of my men shouted when we entered the camp, the sign with the golden arrow hanging over the top.

  I grinned and called them by name before shaking them off as we pressed further in my abode.

  “Do you know the names of all of your men?” an abbot asked.

  “Names, their life story, their families too if they’re from the area,” Little John answered for me.

  Alan-A-Dale greeted us, already plucking a few notes on his harp. “And here comes Bold and Brave Robin Hood,” he smiled.

  “Hello Alan. Where are Ellen and Marian?” I asked the minstrel.

  “I’m not sure. Last I saw them they were helping Rob coax Crafty into his pen. Friar Tuck is working on a fine fish stew though, and Ellen was roasting deer meat before Crafty arrived. Even better, three Merry Men came back with four bucket loads of berries. We’ll have an outstanding lunch today,” Alan smiled.

  “Excellent,” I smiled.

  “Let’s eat!” Little John enthusiastically bellowed.

  Lunch was a fine affair, as usual. The camp was filled with laughter as my men re-told some severely revised stories about me. The ballad in which Little John and I met was a great favorite, as was the one that dove into the complex ‘relationship’ between Marian and I.

  (To assist us in deceiving the monks Marian sat next to me during the dinner, laughing and behaving beautifully while occasionally fawning over me.)

  “Alan, tell the story about your wedding
again,” Lobb called. “I love picturing Little John in that ridiculously small bishop robe.”

  “What of the ballad of Sir Guy of Gisborne,” an abbot called out. “Is that not popular?”

  “It is, only because so many of Nottinghamshire’s peasants love bloody stories,” I sighed. “It wasn’t really that gruesome, all things considered.”

  “You mean to tell me you didn’t cut off Sir Guy’s head?” the head abbot inquired.

  “No,” I laughed. “That was Alan, speaking symbolically. We figure Sir Guy must have lost his head to tramp around my forest in a horse pelt. No, we actually dumped him off at a monastery in the north. I’m not sure what he’s up to now days.”

  “What about the fight with the sheriff?” some men asked.

  I winced. “That was a little bloodier,” I consented. “I didn’t lose any men, but some were badly hurt, I said, my sad eyes turning to Gilbert.”

  “I’m fine now,” he huffed from his log across the camp.

  “I know,” I shrugged, aware that the atmosphere of the camp was now quite dreary. I abruptly stood up, upsetting Marian and Little John, who were next to me. “Well men, we’ve had a good meal and Alan-A-Dale has entertained us all enough. Now it’s our turn to play. Dear monks, would you like to observe our romping practice?” I asked. I always hated it when I had to talk like the perceived version of Robin Hood. I sounded like a blithering idiot. I mean really, romping practice?

  The abbots ate it up, like everyone else. “How do you practice?” the head abbot asked.

  “Through competitions of a sort,” I said, motioning for my men to clear the camp and set up for practice. “For archery there is a target you must hit.”

  “And if you miss it?” a monk inquired.

  “Then you get smashed on the head by the good Friar Tuck,” Little John wearily said, having been the recipient of many head smashes.

  “I don’t practice. Strictly speaking I’m not a Merry Man, so I’m an impartial judge,” Friar Tuck laughed.

  “We also have cudgel practice and swordsmanship for a group of us as well. With those sports you get your smacks naturally when you mess up,” I said, taking my bow from Marian, who fussed with my clothes for appearance sake.

  “Robyn always does the best in archery,” she proudly smiled, as though she owned my talent.

  “Yes, but even I was punished once,” I cringed, recalling the moment. Instead of smashing me on the head the good Friar tucked me under his arm and dragged me about like I was a child for an hour. It was a humiliating experience. I would have preferred the smack in the head.

  “The archery range is ready,” Gilbert announced as a Merry Man tied a rope to the target and secured it to the tree. The target dangled from the branch, swinging in the breeze.

  “Won’t that make it harder?” a monk asked.

  “Exactly. We don’t hit stationary targets very often,” I said, stretching my limbs. “Who is up first?”

  One by one my men paraded through the range, many hitting it, a few missing it. Those that did miss bore Friar Tuck’s blows with good cheer.

  Finally Will Scarlet was up. “Allow me to show you, good monks, how a real archer shoots,” he boasted.

  Some of the Merry Men jeered and called him out.

  “Boaster!”

  “That’s puffed pride you’ve got there Scarlet!”

  “Robyn will tan your hide!”

  Will Scarlet ignored them and notched an arrow before lifting the bow up. He pulled back, anchoring the arrow by his chin, and aimed.

  Just as he was about to release his arrow Marian, ever the sneaky girl, spoke. “Will Scarlet is called Scarlet because he blushes red whenever Robyn looks at him,” she announced.

  Will wobbled as he released his arrow. The shot was off. Way off. It actually hit the trunk of a neighboring tree rather than the dangling target. Will spun on his heels. “Marian,” he hissed.

  The rest of the Merry Men snickered.

  “She got you good!”

  “Down with the boaster!”

  “Has he turned scarlet yet?”

  Although Will Scarlet still professed to be profoundly in love with me, he wanted to be the improper peter who brought it up. He greatly disliked others singing about it—I suspect because he thought I would change my mind about him.

  Marian smiled sweetly.

  “That was hardly fair,” Will Scarlet declared.

  “Take your blow from Friar Tuck, Scarlet and man up,” Little John chuckled as he checked his bow before striding up to the firing point.

  Will Scarlet grumbled. “You’ll get yours, Little John,” he noted, dutifully walking over to Friar Tuck.

  “He will be punished even though it was all in jest?” the head abbot asked, coming to stand next to me.

  “Of course. We all play such tricks on each other, but if we’re actually in a heist we cannot afford to react to such insults,” I explained. “If we are off target by even a little we might accidentally kill someone,” I said.

  “Sorry Scarlet. Rules are rules,” Friar Tuck chuckled before smashing Will Scarlet in the head, sending him tumbling to the ground.

  “Come on Little John,” Much called, ignoring the scene. “My granny can shoot an arrow faster than you.”

  “Prince John could shoot an arrow faster than you,” Will Stutely cackled.

  “Men, behave yourselves,” I lectured.

  “Yes Robyn.”

  Little John breathed deeply, notched the arrow, took the proper stance, and anchored his hand.

  Milliseconds before release Marian again opened her mouth. “There’s a saying in Nottingham, Robin Hood has no need for a dog because he’s got Little John.”

  Little John fired the arrow, which also went wide, and turned to shout at Marian. “Take that back! I am no dog!”

  “Of course you aren’t, Little John,” I said, soothing the giant. “But unfortunately you missed the mark just as widely as Will Scarlet.”

  Little John groaned when he saw his arrow landed just above Will Scarlet’s.

  This, of course, made the Merry men jeer.

  “Hahah, he’s in the doghouse!”

  “And he was calling out Scarlet, look what happened to him!

  “Take your blow Little John,” Will Scarlet snarkily called.

  “Be a man!” Will Stutely hooted.

  Much wandered off to retrieve several of the arrows off the target for me while Little John grumpily walked over to Friar Tuck.

  “Sorry Little John,” the Friar grinned.

  “Yeah, yeah, rules are—omph,” Little John grunted when Friar Tuck smashed him, sending him flying to the ground.

  “I’m up,” I said, flexing my wrists before I approached the firing line.

  This motion raised shouts and cheers from the Merry Men as Marian handed me an arrow.

  “Go Robyn!”

  “A Hood! A Hood! Robyn A Hood!”

  “Good luck Robyn!”

  I carefully notched an arrow while Much stood underneath the target, cheekily grinning at me.

  “Take care not to get riled up like your best men were, Robin Hood!” Much sassily shouted.

  I rolled my eyes and tossed aside my usual Robin Hood acting long enough to shout, “I have no pride, Much. You can’t upset me,” I said, moving the bow into the correct position.

  “That man is just going to sit there?” an abbot hissed, pointing to the stationary Much.

  “Robyn never misses. Not ever. He has nothing to fear,” Marian carelessly shrugged.

  “Hey Robyn, your mother has the brain of a pea hen!” Much insulted, yelling from far down the archery range.

  “Do not insult my mother Much. I’ll put dried apples in your clothes and let Crafty out.”

  “How about the King then?” Much called.

  “You so much as smear his name and I’ll shoot you dead,” I sneered.

  “I thought you men were outlaws, bandits who worked against the king?” the head abb
ot asked.

  “Please,” Marian snorted.

  “The only thing placed higher on Robyn’s loyalty list than the King is God himself,” Will Scarlet said, rubbing the back of his head with a wince.

  “How about this. You have the bravery of a worm,” Much laughed.

  I sighed. “Childhood tactics aren’t going to work, Much.”

  “Maid Marian, your fair lady, can handle a sword better than you,” Much continued.

  “Thank you!” Marian preened.

  I rolled my eyes. “Much,” I warned.

  “Little John could carry you about like a toy.”

  “Much.”

  “My mother could beat you in an arm wrestling match.”

  “MUCH! I don’t have any pride, but neither do I have any patience for your incessant babbling. Shut! Up!” I shouted before moving my arrow up from the target and fixing it on the rope that held the target in the air.

  I released my shot, which snapped through the rope, making the target fall directly onto Much’s head.

  “Ow!” he cried, plummeting to the ground.

  “That will teach him,” I smirked.

  “Good shot Robyn,” Will Scarlet said as my Merry Men cheered for me and booed at Much.

  “Yes, there’s just one thing,” Little John nodded.

  “What?” I asked, fixing the quiver on my back.

  “You missed the target,” Will Scarlet reminded me.

  I froze.

  The humiliating hour of being dragged around by Friar Tuck replayed in my mind. “No,” I whispered

  “Now, now Robyn, I’ve got to punish you too,” the Friar sighed. Instead of cracking his knuckles and grinning deviously like he usually did before administering a punishment he was brushing off his sleeves, clearly getting ready to lug me around again.

  I wouldn’t be dragged around. I couldn’t!

  “And I will take my punishment,” I agreed after a moment of hesitation. I spun around and strode towards the visiting head abbot, who was sitting on a giant rock by the trickling river. “But I fear we have been ignoring our guests. Abbot, I ask that you would deal me my blow.”

  The abbot shifted, clearly surprised. “Are you sure? I might not be Friar Tuck, but I can administer quite a stout blow.”