Maid of Sherwood

by Shanti Krishnamurty

  “I never harmed her. I kept her safe; I love her.”

  Marian eyed the guards watching them. They shifted from foot to foot without meeting her steady gaze. “I saw what you did to her,” she finally said. “You branded her. What sort of a man does that?”

  The guards shook their heads. “It is not right,” one of them muttered. “I will be no party to murder.” The others nodded in agreement.

  “Cowards!” The sheriff spat. “Then be gone with you! I will deal with this outlaw on my own!”

  “Hand him his sword, Mari,” Robin commanded. “I will not murder a helpless man.”

  “Your nobility will get you killed.” The other man promised. He accepted the blade from Marian, drawing it across her palm in the process.

  “Oww!” Her hand welled with blood.

  Robin’s eyes went flat. “That is the very last courtesy I will do you,” he said. Excalibur seemed to agree, its point pressing deeper against the sheriff’s chest, leaving a spot of blood against his white shirt.

  The sheriff flinched and stepped farther back. “I believe you promised me a fair duel,” he said.

  Robin brought Excalibur up to his face in a salute before striking out. Blue sparks rained down, but this time the sheriff was ready for the light and struck through it. Marian gasped when Robin barely deflected the blow.

  “Help him,” Marian pleaded with the guards.

  “No, milady, this is not our fight.” One of them said.

  “Then leave,” she snapped. “Run back to the castle like the vermin you have proven yourselves to be!”

  The guards all looked at each other, then back at where the sheriff and Robin fought, blades sparking and clashing in a continuous bout. “If we take her back to the castle,” one murmured, “we can still collect the bounty from Prince John.”

  Marian’s eyes widened. “No, can you not see? I have not been kidnapped, I am not being held here against my will. What will taking me back to the castle accomplish?”

  “My mum is a villager,” one guard said. “I became a guard to work for the throne, not for a man who tortures women and holds them hostage against their will.”

  The first man spoke again. “Well, I could use the monies the sheriff promised us.”

  “Do you really believe he will pay us? Or even survive?” The second man questioned.

  Marian glanced away from them and toward Robin.

  Excalibur shed sparks as it beat relentlessly against the other blade. The two men thrust and parried their way across the clearing.

  “I think either one of them could win,” the first guard said. “I would prefer to have my payment, and I am sure Hood will not be the one to offer it.”

  “I will not go with you willingly,” Marian stated. “And Prince John will hear the truth of the matter; that you have brought me to him against my will. What do you think he will do to you then?”

  The men looked at each other uneasily.

  “You could,” Marian suggested, “take the sheriff back instead. After all, he was the one who kidnapped me, not Rob—Hood. I am sure the—the prince would reward you handsomely for your service.”

  “We could do that,” the first guard said. He shrugged at the other men’s incredulous looks. “I do not care where the money comes from, so long as it comes. But keep a grasp on her, just in case.”

  The second guard nodded and moved to Marian’s side. She shifted slightly to the left, but kept her eyes glued to the scene taking place in front of her.

  “What do you think John will do to your band of outlaws,” The sheriff parried a blow from Excalibur, “if you succeed in killing me?”

  Robin struck again. “The prince has never concerned himself with the outlaws of Sherwood. That has always been your personal vendetta, not his. And now you wish to lay claim to the throne itself?”

  “John,” the sheriff panted, “is not man enough for the throne. England needs a firm hand.”

  “England has one,” Robin retorted. Excalibur began to glow a steady blue as Robin forced the sheriff further and further back toward a huge, towering oak, its branches heavy with moss and mistletoe.“Richard rules here.”

  “Richard rules nowhere!” The sheriff screamed. “The king is not coming back! I will be the ruling power here!”

  Excalibur’s glow increased until the whole clearing was bathed in light. “I think the sword disagrees,” Robin said.

  “A sword does not have the ability to agree or disagree,” the other man gasped, his back pressing against the tree trunk.

  Robin smiled, sweat beading his brow. “This one does.”

  “Wait,” the sheriff said. “I have heard rumors of a sentient blade—a blade nearly older than time… I know that sword! Prince John would give all the riches of the throne to own it!” The blade nearly leapt out of Robin’s hand, thrusting deep into the other man’s chest. In a leap of logic only the dying are allowed, he solved the sword’s mystery. “It’s Excal—” The blade twisted a final time, piercing his heart and forever silencing the word on his lips.

  Chapter Thirty-Five:

  The clearing fell silent as the sheriff slid off Excalibur to lie, slumped, at Robin’s feet.

  The five guards standing close to Marian stepped away and shuffled their feet while he cleaned the now quiescent sword and sheathed it.

  “It was the money,” one of them finally spoke, his voice low. “We would not have harmed her, but we needed the reward.”

  Robin nodded. “I understand the lure of gold as well as any other man. Go back to the castle. I have no quarrel with you.”

  “You are not what the sheriff claimed,” the first man said. “We will stand at your side for what happened here.” He glanced at the two bodies on the clearing floor before motioning to the rest of his men. They obediently followed him out of the clearing.

  “Well done, Robin,” Nyneve said, her face wreathed in smiles as she floated through the trees, the bottoms of her feet barely touching the patches of moss vying for space with the lush grass.

  “I am glad that was done to your satisfaction,” Robin said, but his eyes were on Marian.

  She walked toward him, careful not to stare at the body near his feet. “Robin.” Her eyes welled with tears.

  His mouth tilted up in a rakish grin. “I told you I would be fine.”

  The tears began rolling down her cheeks. “I—I know,” she sniffed. “But—Oh, Robin, that was close!”

  “If you lovebirds are quite done, I would like my sword back.” Nyneve spoke. “Oh, and you will want to take care of those.” She pointed to the bodies on the ground, nostrils flaring. “Have them buried below the oak. It could use the fertilizer.”

  “But—Prince John—will he not miss the sheriff?” Marian began.

  “The prince has more pressing matters to deal with than the death of his ‘friend’.” Nyneve said. “Soon he will have to answer for everything he has done.”

  As though to emphasize her statement, trumpets sounded from Nottingham Castle.

  Robin raised an eyebrow. “Why the royal trumpets? The prince is already at the cas—” his voice trailed off.

  “It is the king,” Marian breathed. Her heart started pounding.

  Robin whirled to stare at the Lady, who smiled serenely. “Is it true? Has King Richard finally returned?”

  Nyneve ignored the question. “Marian, we need to return to the heart. Your parents will be worried. Robin, take care of the bodies, please.”

  “But Nyneve, are the trumpets for Richard?” Robin persisted, one hand lingering on the sword at his waist.

  The Lady stared pointedly at Robin’s hand. “You will want to remove your hand before you cause an accident.”

  Robin flushed. “I would never—” he began, but she cut him off.

  “I know that, but Excalibur might not.” Her voice was utterly devoid of humor. “That sword was forged to my specifications in the realm of Avalon. You may wish to treat it with more respect.”

&n
bsp; Robin immediately fumbled for the buckle holding the sheath to his waist and undid the clasp. He held it out. “Thank you for the loan, then, but I do not believe I need it any longer.”

  The Lady of the Lake took Excalibur back and buckled it about her own waist in one swift movement. “Now that the sheriff is dead, I can return Excalibur to its resting place.”

  “Are you telling us Robin could not have defeated him on his own?” Marian asked, twining one hand with Robin’s.

  “I was trained with a blade while growing up,” Robin said, “but I was an indifferent student at best. I much preferred the longbow.”

  “If Excalibur cannot tolerate evil, then why has someone not killed the prince with it?” Marian questioned.

  “Prince John is not pure evil. In fact, he is not evil at all; just inattentive and misguided. With Richard’s return, he will pay a price for the deeds he has committed, both against England and against the innocents he murdered.” Nyneve swiftly plaited her long hair so it hung in a thick white braid past her waist. “Robin, if you would take care of the bodies before they begin to stink…”

  Robin pursed his lips. Two shrieking whistles pierced the forest, one following the other in rapid succession.

  The tangle of Klamath Weed, Field Rose and Meadowsweet bent forward as Little John pushed through them, followed by a very young boy Marian had never seen before.

  “Whatcha--” the big man’s eyes dropped to the sheriff’s body. “Oh, I see. Caused a bit of a mess, did ya?”

  “It is good to see you, John.” Robin released Marian’s hand and stepped forward to clasp the hand Little John held out. “I would say I cleaned up a mess rather than caused one.”

  Little John grinned. “Two bodies seems a bit of a mess to me.” He shrugged. “You need help disposing of them?”

  “I need them buried by the oak,” Robin said. “Much, you have your knives?”

  The boy nodded. There was an air of barely restrained violence in the way he held himself. Marian shivered.

  “Who is that?”

  “Much the Miller’s son,” Robin replied. “He is a good kid provided you do not attempt to part him from his blades.”

  “I would not dare,” Marian murmured. She took Robin’s hand back in hers. It felt safer.

  The young boy grinned, as though he knew exactly why she did it. “What you need, Robin?” He raised one knife to his mouth, biting idly on the flat blade.

  “Once Little John buries the bodies, carve a warning into the oak,” Robin instructed. He grinned. “Make it a memorable one.”

  “Understand this, however,” Nyneve pinned Much with a stone colored glare. “If you carve too deeply and injure the tree, no knives in the world will spare you from my wrath.”

  A flicker of fear crossed the boy’s face. “No, Lady. I would not ‘arm the tree for nothin’.”

  Nyneve nodded smugly. “See that you do not. Come, Robin, Marian. Let us collect your parents and be on our way.” Without waiting to see if they obeyed, she left the clearing.

  Robin and Marian stared at each other for a long moment before Robin broke the silence. “Little John, keep an eye on Much.” He turned to the boy. “Much, behave. No killing anything without Little John’s permission. Understood?”

  The boy looked rebellious, but nodded.

  With a last backward glance at Much, Marian followed Robin out of the clearing.

  Chapter Thirty-Six:

  “Marian, I am so happy you are safe.” Mother said. Father pulled her to her feet and they both rushed forward.

  Marian released Robin’s hand and stumbled forward, into their embrace. “The guards wanted to take me back to the castle to collect the reward and Robin killed the sheriff and then Little John came to bury the bodies…” her voice trailed off.

  Father smoothed Marian’s hair over and over. “It is over, Mari. You are safe now.”

  “We need to return to the castle,” Nyneve said. “Beatrix, I want you with us. Alan, you may come if you wish, but it is not required.”

  “We heard the trumpets,” Mother said. “I am looking forward to seeing Richard again.”

  “I will not leave my daughter,” Father stated.

  “I did not expect you to.” Without a backward glance, the old woman marched out of the clearing. “Robin,” she called over her shoulder, “you need to come with us.”

  “She is just as bossy as she ever was,” Mother muttered under her breath.

  “And she is old enough that she is unlikely to change,” Father retorted. “So we may as well do as she demands.”

  “Instead of complaining about me,” The Lady’s voice carried through the underbrush, “you may wish to catch up. I will not wait forever.”

  Marian snickered. She took Mother’s hand in one of hers and Father’s in the other.

  “Are you in love with Robin?” Mother’s voice was lowered so Robin, striding ahead of them, could not hear.

  “I—think so,” Marian said. “I do not know him very well, but I could be.”

  “He is a good man, as was his father before him.” Father said.

  Marian’s eyes widened. “Are you both giving me your blessing?”

  “According to Robin, you are already betrothed, so do our blessings matter?”

  “I did not accept him yet,” Marian said. “And the idea of marriage is terrifying.”

  “Then you are not ready,” Father said. “Robin will understand that.”

  Marian bit her lip. “Do you think so? I would not hurt him for the world.”

  “It is not a decision you have to make today, regardless of what he said before the duel with the sheriff.” Mother reassured. “Richard is back and we can return home soon.” She smiled. “There is no doubt in my mind that Robin will allow you the time you need. After all, he is still an outlaw, and now a murderer as well. He will be required to plead his case before the throne to ensure he does not spend the remainder of his life in Richard’s dungeons.”

  “Do you believe the king would do that?” Marian stared at Robin’s broad back as they continued through the forest.

  “The king has always had a fiery temper,” Mother said. “A great deal will depend upon his mood.”

  “But he cannot possibly think punishing Robin for killing a madman is just!” Marian protested.

  “Marian, he has to weigh the facts, must act as the magistrate from town does to in order to determine a fair outcome,” Father said.

  “I cannot see the fairness in sending him to the dungeons for doing a service for the throne!”

  “Prince John will have a chance to speak about the sheriff’s actions, Marian. Do not concern yourself overly with this.” Father squeezed her hand. “It is but a formality. Richard will not allow harm to come to innocents; even innocents driven to ill deeds.”

  “Marian,” Robin stopped walking within sight of the castle portcullis, and turned around. “I trust the king, and so should you. Whatever comes, I will accept his judgment as one based on what is best for the kingdom.”

  Marian was silent, staring at the raised iron gates. Soldiers milled around in uniforms brown with dust.

  “Where is the Lady Nyneve?” Mother asked. “Is she at the castle already?”

  Robin nodded. “Yes, she said she would fetch Richard and bring him to us.”

  “Can she do that?” Marian’s eyes were wide. “Just order him to come?”

  Mother shrugged. Her hands smoothed down the gray silk gown she wore. “She can try, but the Lionheart does not take orders lightly.”

  Father’s rich baritone disagreed. “The king is not a fool. He will listen to her.” His hazel eyes sparkled. “Imagine, Bea, the ballads I could write if she would speak to me of her part in the legends of Camelot.”

  “She was only mildly involved in that whole mess,” Mother said. “Nyneve may have put the wheels in motion, but the true tale would have to come from Merlin, or Arthur himself, which is impossible.”

  “I suspect the La
dy had a heavier hand in the matter than she wishes anyone to believe,” Father said.

  “Ask her about it once this is over.” Mother shook her head, smiling. “But do not blame me if she tells you nothing. She has not lived over five hundred years in secrecy by telling tales of any kind.” She focused past Marian’s shoulder and her eyes widened.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven:

  One of the tallest men Marian had ever seen strode toward them, followed by Nyneve, who had changed into an ornate gown of flowing white silk. The man’s face was strong, with a square jaw and flame colored curly hair worn cropped close to his head.

  “Richard,” Mother breathed, sinking into a low curtsey. Father bowed low, as did Robin.

  “Marian, down,” Mother hissed, tugging on Marian’s sleeve.

  Marian sank to the ground, bedraggled skirts spread out around her. She raised her head and watched the king approach. His leather armor was covered in dust and the only distinctive marking she could see was a gold ring on his smallest finger.

  “Richard, this is why I summoned you.” Nyneve said. “I believe you remember Lady Beatrix du Luc and her husband, Alan a Dale.”

  “Beatrix,” King Richard rumbled, “it is good to see you again.” He raised Mother to her feet and kissed both her cheeks. “You are most welcomed back to my court. And Alan, it has been far too long since I had the pleasure of hearing your lute.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “Do you remember Robin of Locksley?” Nyneve asked. “His father served you well.”

  “Of course I remember him,” Richard said warmly. He turned to Robin, one eyebrow raised. “You look—earthy.”

  Robin grinned. “I have spent a great deal of time in the forest as of late,” he admitted.

  “We shall have to discuss why. I am sure there is an interesting story behind it.” Richard turned to where Marian still curtsied. “And who is this charming girl?”

  “This,” Robin helped Marian to her feet, “is my betrothed, Marian du Luc.”

  “I have not agreed to marry him yet,” Marian responded tartly, belatedly adding, “Your Majesty.”