A Hoboken Hipster In Sherwood Forest (31 page)

"I never knew I could love someone so much," he whispers. "It's terrifying, yet wonderful."

I nod, too caught up to speak, a lump in my throat and tears threatening. The overwhelming love I feel for this man, it makes me want to die, right here, right now, so I'll never feel another way again. But then I'd never get the future moments.
The joys of life, even the pain. I want to share it all with him. Everything.

He begins to thrust again, gently, passionately, and I'm savoring each sensation. Before I know it, I find myself over the edge, sweet release crowning me and bathing me in a warm sea.

He comes soon after, biting down on his lower lip not to cry out and amuse any nearby peasants. He collapses atop me and I rejoice in the weight of his body, pressing down, filling me. I could lie like this forever. One with him.

"I love you, Robin," I murmur, pressing my face into his shoulder, squeezing him and not wanting to let him go.

"I love you too, Chrissie," he whispers back, pulling out of my embrace so he can look into my eyes. He smiles down at me and I want to laugh and cry at the same time. "So much."

Eventually we realize we must separate, and he rolls off of me and onto his back. I cuddle up next to him, my head on his chest, my fingers lightly tracing his stomach hairs.

"I'm worried about tomorrow," I tell him as we lie intertwined in each other's arms. "What if something goes wrong? What if you die? I can't bear the idea of you dying."

He puts a finger to my lips. "No talk of death, Chrissie," he says. "
‘Tis unlucky. And besides, I'm not going to die. I need to stay alive to take care of you for the rest of your days."

His words sober me. What am I going to do? What if I have to go back? What would he think if I just disappeared off the face of the earth? Would he waste his life searching for me, swearing he'll never love again?

I can't do that to him. I love him too much. I have to tell him the truth. And there's no time like the present—er, past—to tell him about the future.

"Robin, we need to talk," I say cautiously. There's something I must tell you."

"Anything, love, for 'twill not change how I feel about you."

Hm. I'm not sure about that. But okay, here goes. "This is going to sound strange, but..."

" ’Tis no stranger than the mystery of love."

"
Shh." I shush him with a giggle. "I'm trying to talk here."

He laughs. "Sorry, milady. Please go on."

"You always ask me where I'm really from. And I always tell you a faraway kingdom called Hoboken. Well, Hoboken is very far away. But it's also... um, not of this time."

"I'm afraid I do not understand."

I take a deep breath and let it all spill: "I'm from the future, Robin. Eight hundred-some years in the future, to be exact."

He laughs. "Do not mock me, Chrissie."

"I'm not. I'm serious." I pull from his embrace and sit up. "I'm from the future."

He shakes his head. "You are talking madness.
‘Tis impossible."

"I would have agreed with you before it happened to me."

He stares, half amused, half disbelieving. "And were I to believe your wild tale, tell me why did you travel back through time? Just to meet me?" he adds, teasingly.

I shove him. "You wish."

"Then why?"

"It's, um, a long story, actually."

"We have all night."

He's right. And the more details I give him, the easier it will be for him to accept the truth. So I tell him.
About the medieval faire. About Kat. About the gypsy. About my destiny supposedly lying in another era. When I'm finished, he still looks skeptical. Not that I blame him. I'm not sure I would believe me either.

"
’Tis a fantastic tale," he says. "And I want to believe you, of course...."

"Look," I say, whipping out my cell phone. "This is a phone. And," I rummage through my bag. "Here's a camera."

He studies the 21st century items with awe.

"Watch, I'll take a photo of you," I hold up the camera and point it at him. The flash in the darkness of our tent makes him jump back in shock.

"What in God's name?"

I motion him over and show him the digital preview. "See, there you are. It's called a camera. In the twenty-first century my job is to take photos of people."

He stares at the camera, then up at me. "You are telling the truth," he says slowly. "You are truly from the future."

"Yes." I nod. "I truly am."

He stares down at his hands for a moment and I can almost see smoke coming out of his ears he's thinking so hard. I wait, silent. I figure this is a lot to soak in and he needs a few minutes.

Finally he looks up. "Well, I suppose it matters not where you come from," he says, his eyes shining with tenderness. "As long as you are here with me now."

Ugh. Now here comes revelation number two. This is not such a fun discussion.

"Uh, that's the other thing I'm worried about," I admit. "You see, I was sent back for a reason. To bring back a drop of blood from the Holy Grail so that Kat can get
herself back from the future. I'm like a courier. So when King Richard shows up and I get the blood, I have to take it back. And I don't know if it's possible, once I get to the twenty-first century, to return here."

A shadow crosses Robin's face.
"You mean, you would leave me?"

"Well, it's not that I'd want to, but—"

"After all we talked about? About love being the most important thing? You would just go and abandon all we have built together?" He sits up in bed, suddenly shoving his feet into his trousers.

"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?

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."