"Robin, you've got to understand—"
"No, I do not. I will not." His face darkens with rage. "How can some quest be more important than us being together? You're no better than Marion."
"That's not fair. She chose to leave you. I have no choice."
“There is always a choice. You just have to be willing to accept the consequences. Which clearly you are not."
And with that, he scrambles to his feet and exits the tent. I bolt after him, desperate to convince him that I want nothing more than to stay. Doesn't he see what a bad position I'm in? It's not like this is my fault, my choice. There are more people than just me involved in this. Kat, Lancelot, Guenevere. I can't just abandon them in the future because I fell in love, can I?
I want to run after him, but realize I'm stark naked. The time it takes for me to throw on my dress gives him enough leeway to make his escape. My heart aches in my chest as I watch him jump on a horse and gallop off. Where is he going? Just to clear his head? To get away from me? Hopefully he'll return in the morning. We need him for this scheme. I need him for so much more.
Part of me now wishes I'd never told him the truth. But no, it's been a secret for far too long. He deserves to know. But now I've inadvertently hurt him. Led him to believe I don't care about him as much as I really do.
What am I going to do?
Chapter Twenty-one
I can't sleep. I think part of me is hoping Robin will come back, crawl into the tent and take me in his arms and say he realizes what a complicated position I'm in and will support me in any decision I make. But of course this doesn't happen. Instead I toss and turn, alternating between sweaty hot and freezing cold. It's almost as if I'm sick. I guess I am, in a way. At least my heart is.
At dawn I crawl out of the tent and walk over to the cooking fire. Most of the peasants are already awake and preparing to break down camp and head to the castle. I scan the area, but see no sign of Robin.
"Has anyone seen Robin Hood?" I ask around, getting the same answer each time.
Not since last night.
Where is he? How can he just take off? Sure he's mad at me, but don't his people matter? Little John, Tuck, Will Scarlet—they're all to be hanged by mid-morning if we don't rescue them. Isn't that more important than a lovers' quarrel?
I square my shoulders. While I want nothing more than to run back into my tent and cry my eyes out, I know I have to be strong. These people need a leader. Robin might be gone now, but I had no doubt he'll follow through with his plan to save his men and he'll need the diversion I’ve planned to do it.
"Okay, let's get everything packed up," I announce. "Next stop, Nottingham Castle!"
The peasants cheer, waving their hands in the air. They're ready to sit and shout and dance for freedom. I contemplate teaching them the Macarena. God, I hope this isn't going to be another massacre.
But as a leader I can't let any doubt show. "For England!" I cry. "For freedom!"
Cheers all around. At the very least they're now on the Braveheart bandwagon.
We head out, marching to the castle. Soon we see it looming in the distance. It looks bigger than I remember. More foreboding. As we get closer I can see archers on the rooftops, ready to fire on anyone who gets too close.
I turn back to look at the villagers and swallow hard. Okay, here goes nothing.
"Everybody sit!" I order.
Everyone does. Hundreds of men, women, and children all plop down on their butts in sync. I lower myself to the ground, suddenly realizing I should have brought a blanket or something. The ground's soaking with dew.
"Okay, now some of you get up and dance," I order. "And some of you sing at the top of your lungs."
The villagers comply and soon we're having what looks like a medieval rave in front of Nottingham Castle. I look up at the walls. The guards have multiplied and they're watching closely, probably confused as all hell.
But then the drawbridge starts to lower.
My breath catches in my throat as I see armored men on horseback behind the drawbridge, ready to march. Have they merely been sent to see what's going on, or are they going to kill us all? Is my plan a success or a complete disaster?
The mounted soldiers gallop across the drawbridge and onto the field. The villagers start murmuring in fright, frantically searching for their makeshift weapons—pitchforks, staves, shovels...
"No!" I cry. "Keep singing and dancing and sitting. Do not give them reason to attack you!"
The soldiers are getting closer. I swallow hard. Please let this work, please let this work.
Suddenly the soldiers start pointing at us, backing away, almost as if they're frightened.
The mounted knights struggle to maintain holds on their horses who are bucking with fear. Then the leader gives an order, and they all turn tail and gallop back behind the castle walls.
Are they afraid of us? How could they be afraid of us? It doesn't make sense.
I turn to see what the fuss is about and suddenly realize why the castle guards are fleeing. They're not scared of my peaceful protest. They're scared of the huge royal army behind us, brandishing flags with an orange lion emblazoned on them. King Richard has returned! And evidently he's ready to kick ass rather than sit on it.
The best part? Robin's with him. And he's looking at me with a huge grin on his face.
###
If life were like a Lord of the Rings book, this is the part where there'd be a fifty-page über-boring battle scene. No offense to LOTR fans—hey, I like Legolas as much as the next girl—but this castle's run by sniveling Prince John, not the Lord Sauron, and so they give in pretty easily. Most of the prince's guards formerly served King Richard anyway, and they aren't about to remain on the obvious losing side. A few of the sheriff's men put up a bit of a fight, but nothing that a royal army and a flock of peasants can't handle.
It turns out that Prince John is actually overjoyed that his brother is home, and he gladly hands over the throne, declaring he'll now have much more time for his embroidery. The sheriff’s arrested and thrown into the dungeon until he can be tried for treason. So is Maid Marion. No more jewels and fancy gowns for her! Not that I'm gloating or anything. Well, maybe just a bit.
It takes forever to wash all the caked-on dirt from my body, but finally I emerge from the bath feeling gloriously clean. A maid helps me into a beautiful royal blue gown, a lot like the one I wore to King Arthur's faire to begin with. Wow, that seems a lifetime ago.
Avelyn and Elaine help me fix my hair, pulling it into two Princess Leia buns and setting a veiled dunce cap-like thing on my head. I think I might look a little silly, but they insist it's the height of fashion and that Robin will think it's very sexy. While they primp, they ask a billion questions about my favorite outlaw— how did I meet him, what's he like, is he a good kisser? After all, the guy's infamous, and obviously even medieval women have a thing for bad boys. They're both totally psyched that Richard's back. Now they can start dating again.
"And you will never believe it!" Elaine says as she slips a chunky silver bracelet around my wrist. "Susan left the castle!"
"Aye, she evidently had a lover in the village," Avelyn adds. "And now they are to be wed."
"I thought at first she was crazy to leave the castle," Elaine says. "But she seems so happy. So very happy."
I beam, thrilled beyond belief. You go, Susan! The first feminist. I'm so glad she had the guts to go after her and Paul's happily-ever-after.
Finally, after what seems an eternity of primping, I'm pronounced gorgeous and led downstairs to officially meet King Richard. The girls giggle their good-luck wishes at the door to the throne room. They're not allowed inside, but that's okay. They're content to flirt with the outer guards anyhow. I send up a silent prayer that they will soon get their own happy endings.
I step inside. The place has already been cleaned up. When Prince John was in charge, it was a sty. Now it looks like a movie set—exactly how a royal palace should look.<
br />
I walk slowly across the room 'til I reach the throne where King Richard is lounging. He has this aura about him—he just looks like a king. Trim beard, steel blue eyes, a plain but richly cut red tunic. And his crown fits properly on his head. I can't tell you how much that helps the overall impression.
Robin stands by Richard's side, dressed in a royal green silk tunic. His hair has been cut short, and it shines with a just-washed glow. He looks gorgeous and amazingly clean. Funny not to see him all rough and unready.
I stop and bow low, then think better and curtsey deeply. After all, this guy's the King of England, not to mention I've got to ask him the hugest favor in the history of favors.
"Rise, Lady Christine," Richard says in a deep baritone. I remember that in Prince of Thieves, the Kevin Costner movie, Richard is played by Sean Connery. The real Richard kind of has the same deep foreign voice thing going on, but in the face he more resembles Roger Moore. Amusing.
I scramble back to my feet, not as gracefully as I would have liked. Ah well, not enough practice, what can you do?
"Robin has told me of your recent adventures," Richard says. "I am greatly in your debt for all you have done for my people while I have been away."
Wow. The King of England is in debt to me. How cool is that? And it could certainly be helpful. I smile. "Thanks. It was nothing, really. Plus I had a lot of help. Robin, his men. Really it was a team effort."
Richard smiles. "According to Robin, none of it would have come to pass without your guidance."
"Robin Hood is very kind," I say, stealing a look at the outlaw. He gives me an uncertain smile. I sigh. There's still so much unsaid. I really need to speak to him alone.
"Uh-uh," Richard corrects, with a wave of his hand. He's wearing several awesome rings on his fingers. "'Robin Hood' no longer, milady. It is Robin, Lord Locksley that stands before you this day."
"Really?" I cry, turning to Robin. "You got your castle back? That's so great!" I have to resist the urge' to throw myself into his arms and hug the lights out of him. I know how much the castle means to him. And now he won't have to live in the forest!
"Yes, King Richard is most generous," Robin says formally. But I can see a sparkle in his green eyes. He's psyched.
"I'll say. That's way cool. Thank you, Rich—er, King Richard." I must remember courtly manners here. There's no use getting too friendly with Richie Rich. "What about Little John? Much the Miller, Will Scarlet and the rest of the men?"
Robin smiles. "They have agreed to pardon me for my crime. And as reward for their loyal service to King Richard, they will be given lands of their own."
"Very nice." I smile, happy that everyone's friends again.
"And you, Lady Christine," Richard continues. "I should like to reward you in kind."
I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Aye. Simply name it and it shall be yours. Be it half my kingdom."
Heh. Tempting. Always in movies that offer is made. Hardly ever does anyone take the king up on it. They always want something stupid and inconsequential. Like John the Baptist's head on a platter. I mean, come on! Half a kingdom here, people! Me—queen of half of England!
But now I can't take him up on that generous offer either. 'Cause I know exactly what I have to ask for.
"Can I whisper my request in your ear, Your Majesty?" I ask, not wanting any of the various courtiers to hear me. After all, I'm sure Richie here wants to keep secret the fact that he stole the Holy Grail from the Church.
"Certainly, my child."
I climb up on the dais and tell him my request. His eyes widen. "How do you know of that?" he demands, now looking a little PO'ed.
"It doesn't matter. And I won't tell anyone, as long as I get what I need. Which should be no skin off your back, right? I mean, dude, I could have taken half the kingdom, right? You’re getting off easy here."
Richard considers my proposition for a moment, then nods his head. "Very well," he says. "It shall be done."
Woot! Mission accomplished. Kat is going to be so thrilled.
Chapter Twenty-Two
That night Robin escorts me to the suite of rooms that King Richard assigned him, and we curl up into one another on the canopy bed.
"How do you fare?" he asks, stroking my cheek.
I smile, stretching my arms above my head and then snuggling closer against him. "Right this second I couldn't be cozier.”
"I am so sorry for last night. Running away like a coward. I just could not bear the thought of losing you."
"I know," I say, stroking the stubble on his cheek gently with the back of my hand. "It's not that I want to be lost, believe me. If I had my choice I'd stay here with you forever."
"Do you mean that, truly?"
"Yes. I love you, Robin. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I love our life here in Nottingham. And it's only going to get better from here on out. Why would I want to leave all this behind?"
"Well, then," Robin says, clearing his throat. "I think you should go."
"Wh-what?" That was so not what I expected the guy to say.
"You told me once that in your land—in your… time—if you love someone, you should let them go. Well, Chrissie, I know that you have to go. And though 'tis unbearably painful, I must let you."
Tears fill my eyes and I cuddle closer to him, seeking all the warmth and comfort his body has to offer.
"I will figure out a way to return, Robin," I promise. "Someway, somehow, I will find you again."
"I know, dearest," Robin says, taking my head in his hands and kissing me slowly. "I believe that with all my heart. That's the only reason I can do this."
We make love slowly; I'm crying the whole time. Every caress, every kiss feels like a knife inside me.
It's lucky we seldom know the last time we'll make love to our partners. Feeling that person inside you... If you knew the person you loved was tomorrow going to walk out of that door and get hit by a bus—or meet someone new who they wanted to dump you for—you might find that last time too much to bear.
Every heavenly sensation of our lovemaking is accompanied by a suffocating feeling of loss, every ounce of pleasure doused by a pound of pain. In the end, we simply stop, crying in one another's arms. We're too emotionally drained to speak.
Finally, I've found the man of my dreams and I'm forced to leave him for some silly mission. It's not fair. So not fair.
Somehow I eventually fall asleep. I dream I'm walking through King Arthur's Faire, carrying the vial with the Holy Grail blood in my hands. I approach the gypsy tent and pop inside.
Nimue sits there, exactly as I saw her the first time, by her crystal ball. She greets me with all-knowing, wise eyes.
"Did you bring it?" she asks.
I hold up the vial. "Of course."
"You have done well, little one. I am very proud of you."
I start to hand over the vial, then suddenly change my mind, an idea forming in my brain. Robin told me once if you loved someone you should fight for them. And suddenly I'm ready to put on the gloves and get dirty.
"Look, Nimue," I say. "I'll give you the blood. But you have to give me something too." I've seen enough episodes of 24 to know how to set up a trade.
"That was not part of our deal," Nimue says stiffly.
"Well, then, I'm changing the deal."
"And what is it that you want? Riches? Shoes? What is it you twenty-first century women find more precious than gold?"
"I don't want money! I want to stay back in the twelfth century. To be with my true love. You told me long ago that perhaps my destiny lies in another era. Well, it's true. My destiny, my future, is not here. It's with Robin."
There. I said it.
"So you would rather let your friend languish away in the twenty-second century to fulfill your own selfish desires?"
"No. I want to help Kat. That's why I got you the stupid Grail blood to begin with. Jeez, I gave up half of England for the stuff. But I'm also done being the
sacrificial lamb here. I’ve found true love. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let it slip from my fingers."
Nimue surprises me with a smile, her blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "You have much changed since you first appeared at my tent. The mouse has grown up a tiger."
"Uh, thanks, I think." She's right of course. The shy, unassuming photographer who came to King Arthur's faire with Kat is nothing like who I am today. I'm strong. I'm self-sufficient. I'm a leader. And I have a man who loves me enough to die for me. Not that I'd ever want him to.
"Did you really think I'd force you back to this century when I knew all along you belonged in the past?"
I cock my head in surprise. Whoa. I wasn't expecting that answer! "You knew?"
"Remember," Nimue reminds me, "I am the one who first told you that you would be the gentle soul who tamed an outlaw's thirst for revenge."
"That's right," I say, thinking back.
"If your destiny truly lies in this other place and time, there is no reason for me to keep you here. You have accomplished your mission. You have saved your friend, and she will now be able to safely return. Of course I will allow you to stay in the twelfth century." She glances into her crystal ball for a moment, then back up at me. "You will live long and have many children," she prophesies. "In fact, you already have your first inside of you."
"What? I'm pregnant?" I look down at my flat stomach, unbelieving at first, then back at Nimue. "And I can stay with Robin?"
"Aye." Nimue smiles. "Now, begone. Go back to your love, for even now he wakes by your side." She waves a hand and the room swirls into blackness.
###
"Chrissie, Chrissie! Wake up!"
I groan as I feel a hand nudging my shoulder. Reluctantly I open my eyes. Robin is leaning above me, concern in his eyes.
"What?" I ask. "What's wrong?"
" ‘Twas the strangest thing. You started to fade for a moment."
"Fade?"
A Hoboken Hipster In Sherwood Forest Page 24
