by K. M. Shea
Much swallowed the bread he was scarfing down. “Robyn saved me,” he started, and for the next ten minutes he explained to his parents how I held up the entourage of men that held him captive, and that I was now a doubly an affirmed “male” outlaw who lived in the woods. (I deeply protested this part, but Ronald laughed and slapped me on the back, knocking the breath out of me. Cristina muttered prays for my soul.)
“So Much, you’ll be staying with Robyn then,” Ronald nodded. “Good trade, good trade. Thank you for helping my son, Robyn.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t help him very much. He’ll be stuck living with me in Sherwood.”
Cristina gave me a strained smile. “I’d rather see you two living in Sherwood Forest than hanging from the nearest tree,” she said as she scuttled around the house.
Much and I exchanged glances. “So you’re okay with having an outlaw for a son?” Much chirped.
“Give it up Much!” I roared as Ronald released gusts of laughter.
“The Sheriff will come here soon,” Christina said, scrunching up her nose, just like her son, as thunder crashed outside.
“Thankfully the rain washed our footprints away. But… we should probably go,” I decided, standing up. Much nodded and followed my example.
Cristina handed me my cloak as Ronald broke his son in a bear hug. “Live well,” Cristina bid, handing me a giant sack before hugging Much and giving him an even bigger bag.
Ronald slapped me on the back. “Take care, Robyn! I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done tonight,” he solemnly said as he watched his wife and son embrace.
“It was nothing sir,” I said, pulling my hood up.
“Now you two be careful!” he warned. “The Sheriff is a mean man. Be on the look out at all times.”
I cracked open the front door and glanced out of the crack. “Someone’s coming!” I hissed, spotting sputtering torches bobbing in the darkness as the rain poured down. I slammed the door shut.
“Quickly, use the back door!” Cristina said as she cleaned up all evidence of our visit.
“Thank you for your help,” I bowed. I fled with Much on my heels. Ronald and Cristina stood at the back door, waving to us as we disappeared.
“Quickly! We have to get to the forest as soon as possible,” I urged as we kept our distance from the torches.
“This is foolish. We can’t see two feet in front of us!” Much said, hunched behind me.
“What other option do we have? Come, it’s this way,” I said as started off in the direction I thought Sherwood to be. I was excessively careful of the Sheriff’s men, who were closing in on the miller’s house. After a few minutes of walking I could see the shadowy shroud of trees stretched in front of us. “There it is, let’s hurry,” I said, quickening my stride to a jog.
We tore into the woods, taking refuge under the trees. We crept along the forest floor until we reached the small meadow.
That miserable night we wedged ourselves between the giant rocks, trying to keep as much of the rain out as possible. It was a wretched night, and by dawn the rain still hadn’t stopped.
Nothing particularly interesting happened in the spring weeks following Much’s rescue. Over the next month it barely rained and Much and I flourished as we ate deer meat and drank fresh spring water. (Yes, I decided I was rogue enough to kill the king’s deer in Sherwood Forest.)
Much grew like a beanpole, and Marian was forced to bring him a new set of clothes nearly every visit. At the end of two months he finally leveled off to be several hands taller than me.
Sometimes we’d sneak over to his parents’ house, and Cristina would give us more supplies. Much’s parents told the Sheriff on the night I saved Much that no, their son hadn’t returned to them. The Sheriff collected their extra taxes, aka a bribe, and soon Much’s parents were forgotten even though Much and I were not.
The few times we snuck into the village we saw posters of us all over town. They had poor imitations of our faces sketched on to them. Much’s was totally disproportionate and mine was basically a black hood.
Marian visited us often and usually tried to convince us to rob some lord or knight, we didn’t though. After some cajoling she did manage to convince us to help the villagers, though. Often times we would leave some of the deer meat on the doors, knock, and run off, leaving them with the food.
Our meadow stayed wild, we never dared to build real shelters. Sadly we were forced to suffer when it rained. When we had free time I taught Much to read and write. He wasn’t perfect, but he learned enough so he could go into the village and read anything the Sheriff posted.
We practiced the art of using a staff. Much was twice as good as I. However, we also fine tuned our archery skills, an art I completely dominated. And when we got really bored we even practiced our swordsmanship. (Marian brought out two old swords. At first I flat out refused because its a noble’s weapon. But I then I got sick of Much beating me silly with the staff, so the change in weapons was welcome.)
By the third month we were adjusted to our new life style and could barely remember what it was like to wake up in a real home.
We were sitting in the forest on a fine sunny morning. I was cleaning my longbow while Much, the loaf, was sitting on a rock, watching me. We both paused and looked up when we heard the telltale crashes of villagers walking through our forest.
“Should we go listen?” Much prompted.
Listening to villagers who stumbled through the forest was not only an excellent way to stay up to date on the news and garner all the latest gossip, but it sometimes allowed us to hear stories about ourselves, Robin Hood and Much the miller’s son.
“Why not?” I shrugged, slipping my quiver onto my back as I hooked my longbow over my shoulder.
We silently snuck through the forest, stopping after predicting the direction of the villagers’ path. I crawled up a tree as Much hid in a bush, and together we waited.
“Aye. Did ye hear that some of the young en’s from the village are wantin’ to join Robin and Much the miller’s son? Thank God the Sheriff hasn’t heard them, nor learned about the food that Robin Hood, bless him, leaves us.”
“True, true,” the man’s companion said as they started to walk away from us. “It was Will Stutely that’s leading em,” he rumbled. “Ah, did you hear about the blacksmith’s cow?” he asked, switching to a more boorish topic as they left us.
I slid down the tree. “Will Stutely, huh?” I wondered as I peered through my leafy kingdom.
“He always used to play with us when we were little,” Much thoughtfully chirped. “He’s nice,” he added as an afterthought.
Chapter 3
Steal from the Rich
“Whatever you’re thinking, NO! More men will bring us all the more closer to Marian’s Outlaw Dream,” I moaned as I viciously kicked a nearby tree. (Marian’s plan had become a full fledged proper noun, demanding the capitals and everything.)
“Robin Hood, his Merry Men, and Maid Marian,” Much jokingly listed as I glared at him. “Well, let’s go to the village this afternoon.”
I raised my eyebrows. “The moment you set foot in the village the Sheriff of Nottingham will pounce on you.”
“So you go!” he retorted. “Everyone has completely forgotten about you, the silly girl who set boys on fire, so if you disguise yourself as a man they won’t recognize you. It will be perfect,” Much informed me as I stomped back toward the clearing. “And while you’re there you can get us some more bow strings,” he added.
“Why?” I questioned as I hopped up on a rock and placed my longbow on my lap.
“I broke two of them yesterday, so we’re going to need some more,” he muttered.
“WHAT?” I hissed. Out of all of our supplies I considered the bowstrings to be the most valuable.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, hanging his head as I stomped around the camp, looking for a proper disguise.
I tugged on the end of my hair. Marian made me chop it
off in the initial weeks of my new rogue status. She said it would make me harder to recognize, or something stupid like that. It didn’t matter much, I always kept my hood whenever I was snooping around. But cutting my hair was something I always wanted to do, so I eagerly cropped it.
Sadly I realized that I liked my long hair after cutting it, but it was steadily growing back. It was finally brushing my chin when Much broke the lovely bowstring news to me.
“I’ll need a hat,” I dug through our supplies and found a large feather cap. I placed it on my head and then tucked up all my hair into it using hairpins Marian had brought for that very reason. I changed into Much’s old cream-colored shirt and pulled on black hose. I had learned how to bind my chest by wrapping bandages around it, so now you truly couldn’t tell I was a girl, although I still was a little too pretty to be taken seriously.
I abandoned my regular green cape and instead used a short cloak which fell just bellow my butt. It was tan, ratty, and torn, making it all the better to use.
I grabbed a huge sack of food that Much and I had gathered in case we ever needed to barter. It contained a dried apples from Cristina, a large chunk of boar meat, and a big piece of cheese that we lifted off of a rich, fat noble. (It was the only thing we had ever stolen at that point.)
“I’ll be back,” I announced as I threw the cloak over my shoulders.
“I’m sure you will be. Go to my parent’s house and get some bread will you? It’s been three weeks since our last loaf,” Much said as I shook my head and took my leave.
I stayed in the shadows of Sherwood Forest as long as I could, traveling until I passed the village. After casting cautious glances up and down the road I jogged out to the dirt path and rubbed my face and hands with dust to complete my disguise. After brushing off my fingers I started toward town.
Much and I never went into Nottinghamshire village during the daytime. We only crept in when it was night, dusk, or dawn. Because of this the condition of the village astonished me. Scraggly dogs were running around, you could see their ribs even through their thick fur. Gaunt faced children scampered through the dirty street, their clothes ratty and torn.
Women were watching the children from the houses or one of the very few vegetable or fruit stands that were scattered on the street. They too were thin and bony and looked unhealthy and sick.
The men were out working. However, a few of the boys who were about 17 or 18 were standing around, looking pale and skeletal. Their clothes weren’t nearly as nice as my plain and simple clothes, and I felt incredibly out of place, even though my clothes were torn and dust covered. The village stank of filth, and flies buzzed through the air, delighting in the stench.
Everyone watched me as I walked into town, I was secretly glad I had a knife hidden in my leather belt. I quietly walked up to the weapon’s stall. (It was a joint venture run by the blacksmith and an archer.)
“I need five bow strings,” I said.
“We don’t accept money,” the blacksmith doubtfully sighed.
“What do you accept?” I asked, being careful to drop my voice a few pitches.
“Food,” he replied.
I put the sack on the table and the Blacksmith peered into it and nodded, satisfied. “I’ll get to work on those strings, I only have four finished, so if you come back in a bit they’ll be ready for you,” he said.
I politely nodded before taking my leave. I was going to go visit Cristina and Ronald, Much’s parents, when I heard a boastful shout.
“It’s in my mind to go off and join Robin Hood!”
I halted and switched directions until I found the boys standing in a circle.
“I heard that he’s the best archer in all of Nottingham!” one boy confessed.
I glanced around the group when the original speaker spoke again. “Hey you, who are you?” he suspiciously asked. I looked up and nearly gasped. Will Stutely was peering down at my dust streaked face.
He was much taller than I remembered him. He was a little shorter than Much, and his dirt brown hair was scruffy, hanging over his rain cloud eyes.
Once he spoke the four other boys turned to glare at me. I cleared my throat. “I have heard stories about this Robin Hood,” I started. “And I was wondering, why do you think he is so great?”
“What have you heard about him?” Will asked, apparently he was the expert when it came to me.
“I was told that he is some sort of outlaw who threatened some soldiers and now lives in Sherwood Forest,” I drawled.
“He did much more than that!” Will said, shaking his fist.
“Really?” I loftily inquired.
“Yes! He saved one of my friends!” Will started.
“Uh-huh,” I said, starting to walk away.
“Robin Hood is the bravest and most honorable man I know!” Will yelled after me, sounding quite indignant, before he returned to whispering with his group.
“Will, you don’t even know him!” one of his friends hissed.
I privately agreed as I began the trek to Ronald and Cristina’s house. Will was quite a loud mouth, and one of these days it was going to get him killed. But what was really on my mind was the village. Rather, the condition it was in: ruin.
I arrived at their hut and knocked on the wooden door before turning to look behind me, forever watching my back.
“Can I help you?” Cristina asked opening the door.
I turned back to her and smiled. “Yes. May I come in?” I asked.
“Um, Ronald is not here right now,” she nervously replied, clutching the door.
I whispered, “Cristina, it’s me, Robyn!”
Cristina’s mouth formed a small o. She quickly beckoned me in and slammed the door behind me. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “You could be spotted, walkin’ around in broad daylight!”
I gave her a crocked grin. “You weren’t able to recognize me. Although that’s quite an insult, it’s like saying I’m ugly enough to be a boy,” I complained.
“Hush dear,” she cooed. “You look very beautiful. Like a prince!” she soothed.
I frowned deeper. The only prince I knew of was Prince John. I tried to decide if I should be offended or not before I gave up. “Yes, my girly face is quite a problem, but it’s nothing a hood can’t cover up,” I winked as Cristina laughed at my bad pun.
“Was there anything you needed?” she asked.
“Actually yes. Much wanted a loaf of bread.”
“Why I just finished baking one!” she squealed, delighted. She quickly wrapped it in a cloth and handed it to me. “Anything else?” she questioned as she sat down on a wooden chair.
I fiddled for a moment with my cape. “I want to know about the village. How long has it been like that?” I asked.
Cristina’s eyes darkened with sadness. “So you saw it in daylight did you?” she sighed. “Prince John has been squeezing the life out of us. Ronald and I have managed to scrape by, but I’m afraid the villagers been so blessed.”
I studied the wood table for several minutes as we sat together in companionable silence. “Thank you for you time, and the bread,” said, my wooden chair to scraping against the floor as I stood.
“You’re welcome. Come over any time,” Cristina smiled.
I opened the door and exited the hut, tipping my hat to her before she shut the door. I walked back to the village and bought my strings from the blacksmith.
I don’t really remember the trip back. I did walk all over Sherwood Forest though, and it was nightfall by the time I returned.
Much was not pleased with me.
“ROBYN! Where in bonnie England have you been? LONDON?” he yelled as I handed him the bread and thoughtfully sat down at our fire.
“I was here and there,” I vaguely recalled while plucking a piece of grass out of the ground.
“Here and there? HERE AND THERE?! YOU MAY HAVE BEEN IN FRANCE FOR ALL I KNEW!” he bellowed in my face.
“Much. Do you think it would be for
givable if we followed Marian’s Outlaw Dream?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” he fumed, plopping down next to me. “Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?”
“Yes,” I nodded, gazing into the fire as I ran my fingers down the length of grass.
“Well, it could get US in a whole bigger stewpot of trouble. Not to mention that would you would be bossing me around all the time! It would be a repeat of our childhood,” he said.
I snorted and curled my lip up in a sneer as I tossed the piece of grass at him. “Like I don’t do that already. But seriously. Why don’t we? It’s not like they can make our execution sentence any worse. What could they do? Kill us twice?”
“We could get caught a lot easier,” Much pessimistically pointed out. “And I like my head where it is, thank you very much! I’m not that anxious to go off and have tea with the gallows.”
“I heard Will talking in the village. He said he’d be willing to join Robin Hood,” I said, gazing into the fire again.
“That’s only if he doesn’t get his head chopped off for offering to do so,” Much dryly said.
“With the extra help we could rob with ease,” I retorted.
“And it’s economic! We could have a mass funeral and save money!” Much added.
“We could ask Marian to get us more lincoln green uniforms,” I thoughtfully mulled.
“Ah, yes. That way the only way they’ll be able to tell you apart from the other ‘Merry Men’ would be the great amount of inches in height that you are lacking!”
“It’s good camouflage,” I said.
“Yes, so we stand an even higher chance of being hit because of the Sheriff’s bad aim.”
“Much!”
“Robyn!”
“I’m being serious here!” I scolded.
“So am I!” he insisted.
I grumbled and slouched. “I’m going to sleep on it,” I decided.
“Yes, good idea. Sleeping with life threatening ideas on your mind is a great way to snooze. Goodnight,” he said, turning over.
“You are insufferable,” I responded.
