Mojitos with Merry Men (17 page)

"Uh, okay. But, well, I thought you were married. What about Danny? Is this one of those 'what happens in Sherwood Forest stays in Sherwood Forest' type things? Don't worry. You can trust me to keep a secret."

Ugh. I forgot I didn't tell her that yet. I swallow hard. "Actually, Danny and I split up before I came back in time. I found him…well, I mean, we just weren't getting along."

"He cheated on you?" For someone so dense and self-absorbed, sometimes Kat could be very perceptive. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The lump forms back in my throat. So annoying that even with this new, wonderful affair I still can't help but choke up when I think of what happened to my marriage. "I guess I was embarrassed," I say, after swallowing it back down. "But yeah. We've been separated a couple months now."

"And now you're back in time, getting it on with Robin Hood!" Kat concludes. "How freaking awesome is that? Good for you, Chrissie. Don't let that loser get you down. Have wild and crazy sex with a legend instead. It's good for the soul. I should know. Been there, done that."

"Yeah, well, it's a bit more complicated," I say.

"Oh, yeah. It always is. Lance and I had to keep our relationship a total secret. Pretend we were brother and sister. And so the knights thought he was actually sleeping with Guenevere. Isn't that ridiculous? Then, through this whole case of mistaken identity, they concluded that the two of them were having an affair instead of me and him, and they sentenced Guen to burn at the stake. Of course Lance and I totally rescued her but still—it totally destroyed the whole kingdom of Camelot. Way messy, let me tell you."

"Wow." And here I thought hiding our relationship was hard. Sounds like Kat had it a lot worse. "But in the end…?"

"Oh, well, happily ever after, really. Lance and I are thick as thieves. And we don't have to hide anymore, which rocks. We're PDA-ing all over the 22nd century, let me tell you."

"Sounds nice."

"So what's your deal again?"

"I have to pretend I'm a guy."

"Oh yeah, the whole eunuch thing. I remember now. That must be fun. Not."

"They all signed some stupid sacred oath. No women in camp. And if the men knew he was breaking his own rule by hanging with me, it could really mess with his leadership. And we're doing so well now with the robberies and stuff. The kingdom is thriving. The poor are getting food. It'd be a shame to ruin all of those good things just for the right to kiss him in public." I sigh. "But still…"

"It's hard. I know. You feel like he's ashamed of you. That the relationship isn't important enough to risk his job over. Lance had very much the same issue. King Arthur wouldn't allow his knights to date. I mean, how lame is that? Not that many of them followed that rule. Gawain had a different damsel every night. But Lancelot was so good and pure." She laughs. "Until he met me, obviously."

"I can only imagine."

"Anyhow, try to think of this as an adventure. Isn't sneaking around kind of exciting? I mean, it's like the thrill of an affair without another woman being hurt."

"It'd be more fun if the stakes weren't so high. It's not like his job has an unemployment plan if he's fired for sleeping with me."

"Right. Well, hang in there, Chris. Things could change at a moment's notice. Just be true to yourself and your own feelings. And hey, enjoy the sex! How is our legendary outlaw in the bedroom department, anyway? I figure it's Robin Hood—he's got to be packin' something decent in his tigh—"

"Oh, Kat? Hello?" I tap the phone against my palm. "Can you hear me now? I think you're breaking up."

"Yeah, right. Bullcrap. You just don't want to go all TMI. Fine, fine. Keep the juicy details to yourself."

I laugh. "It was good to talk to you, Kat," I say and am surprised that I mean it. Somewhere in all her crazy babble, the girl does talk some sense. Who would have thought?

"Good to talk to you too, Chrissie. I'll call back soon. Go start staging that Austrian prison break. I know you could pull it off."

I roll my eyes, saying good-bye and clicking the End button, then stuff the phone back in my bag. Time to head back to camp before Robin comes back looking for me.

As I approach the vicinity, I hear excited voices.

"Robin! Take a look at this!"

I follow the sound of the voices and come across several men, including Robin, all hovering around Will Scarlet, who holds an unrolled piece of parchment in his hands.

"What is it?" I ask.

Robin looks up from reading. "An archery competition," he says, his eyes sparkling. "At Prince John's castle. The prize is a golden arrow."

"A golden arrow?"

"The shaft is made of solid silver and its head of solid gold," he explains. "Could feed a village for a month."

I scrunch my eyebrows and wrack my brain. This sounds all too familiar. "I think it's a trap."

The four men stare at me.

"A trap?" Robin asks. "For who?"

"For you, duh. To get you back for all the recent robberies. Everyone knows you're the best archer in the land, so why not tempt you with a competition to bring you out of the safety of the forest and into the open? You win the tournament, and your prize is a jail sentence."

"That seems a bit of an elaborate plan to snare me."

I sigh. How do I explain that I know what I know? It's not like I can say I read about it in a book that's yet to be written. I'm all of a sudden feeling a very strong Cassandra complex here.

Then again, should I really be trying to talk them out of things? I'm not trying to change history here. And if history proves correct, Robin cleverly escapes anyhow. All's well that ends well.

"You could win this," Will Scarlet says, looking back down at the paper. "There is no man better with a bow than you, Robin."

"Aye," Robin agrees. "I think I shall enter."

"Um, hello?" I say, waving my hands in front of his face. "Earth to Robin! You can't just waltz into the castle courtyard. They'll arrest you. Hang you."

"You worry too much, Chris," Robin says. "'Tis simple. We shall wear disguises. Will, allow me to don one of your scarlet cloaks. The Prince and his sheriff will expect men in green."

A red cloak? That's his big disguise? That's as bad as Superman fooling everyone with Clark Kent glasses. I mean,
Duh, Lois Lane.
You'd think she'd totally know.

"Well, I'm coming with you," I interject. If he's going to go be all foolish and stuff, he needs backup. And I'm the only one in this stupid camp sensible enough—well, at the very least knowledgeable enough about how it's all supposed to play out. Not that anyone ever listens to me.

Robin scowls. "I do not think it is safe for—"

"For what?" I ask sweetly. "I am one of your
men,
am I not?" Heh. Sometimes this eunuch disguise can work in my favor.

He shoots me an exasperated glare, but of course he can't say anything in front of Will and the other guys. "Fine," he says at last. "Let's go win this tournament."

Tournament day is bright and sunny, the air crisp and cool—perfect weather for a New England harvest festival or apple-picking adventure. However, I can't enjoy any of it because I'm so nervous.

While Locksley Castle was just basically a medieval McMansion plopped in the middle of a field, Nottingham Castle has a whole city built around it and is actually quite impressive. Houses, inns, and pubs flank narrow but bustling streets. We pass a blacksmith hammering horseshoes into shape, a bread maker kneading his dough. We walk through a market square packed with makeshift wooden stands selling everything under the sun. Luckily, Robin seems to know the way. I'd be totally lost.

Finally, we come to a large courtyard adjacent to the castle itself. You have to go through a second set of guards to get in, but thankfully, they're not checking IDs or anything. A good thing, too—Robin's great disguise is not much more than Will Scarlet's red cloak pulled far over his head. Not the best cosplay in the world, not by a long shot. And it feels weird to be here without the other Merry Men. But Robin was worried that showing up with an entourage might attract too much attention. My role is to play his servant and watch for any signs of recognition amongst the sheriff's men.

The place is packed: peasants, noblemen and women, knights in shining armor, the works, all milling about chatting amicably with one another. There's an excitement in the air—like the kind you find before a football game—and I half expect souvenir stands with big foam fingers and number jerseys for the Sheriff of Nottingham.

Robin motions for me to follow him, and we head over to the stand where people sign up for the tournament. I watch as he pays some silver, and the guard tosses him a quill to list his name on the roll of parchment. I squint to try to make out what Robin's going to choose as his special top-secret tournament name, but I can't quite make out his scrawl. There sure are a lot of names on the list though. Guess the golden arrow is a pretty big prize. Hope Robin's up for the challenge. Then again, I already know that he wins this—I've read the book. So why am I so freaked out?

Once signed up, we head to a small, unoccupied corner of the courtyard. Robin takes his bow from me and inspects it critically.

"Think I can do this?" he asks under his breath.

"Definitely," I say with a confidence I don't entirely feel. Not that I think he won't be able to hit a bull's-eye—I'm just afraid that he won't be able to hit a bull's-eye without getting caught for who he really is. "You'll kick their butts. Especially that stupid sheriff. But be careful of performing too, too well. After all, you don't want them to figure out it's you."

Robin laughs. "I will take my chances with that," he says, "For how can I do less than my best?"

Of course. Typical man. Still, in a strange way it makes me feel kind of proud. Robin really rocks with a bow. "All right then," I say. "You give them everything you've got. If they recognize you, we'll just fight our way out."

"God's teeth!" Robin mutters under his breath.

I glance over at him, surprised. "Uh, you don't want to fight?" This could be a problem, as I'm ninety-nine percent sure the history books say we'll have to.

"No, no," he says, his voice a bit hoarse. "I'm sorry. I was not responding to your words."

"Then what's wrong?" I ask, following his gaze out into the crowd and up onto a dais where the royalty sit wearing shimmering rainbow-colored dresses and fanning themselves with dainty silk handkerchiefs. "What are you looking at?"

I glance back at Robin. His face has gone white. His eyes are wide. His lower lip trembles. What the hell is wrong with him?

I look up at the dais—at one particular woman, sitting in a favored place next to a well-dressed man who is obviously Prince John. She has jet-black wavy hair and large doe-like brown eyes. Her lips are plump and cinnamon-colored. Her dress is sky blue and embroidered with elaborate designs. Her wrists and neck and head are draped with emeralds, rubies, and sapphires.

His stare. Her beauty. I put two and two together, and I'm certainly not getting five.

"Is that who I think it is?" I ask, my heart catching in my throat.
God, please don't let it be her.

"Aye. 'Tis Marian."

Sigh. It's her. Thanks a lot, God.

This is what, in the back of my mind, I'd been afraid of all along. Screw the sheriff and getting caught and running for our lives. That I can handle. The fact that she'd be here—that he'd see her and dissolve into a sopping puddle on the floor—is what really terrified me.

And now it's happened.

I glare up at Marian, the woman who left Robin high and dry, traded him in for a new and better life. Hasn't that sunk into his thick skull yet? Shouldn't he be over her by now? And what about me? Have I just been convenient to waste time with while they've been apart? Someone to occupy the hours, satisfy his needs? While all along, deep inside, he continued to mourn the loss of his true love. The pure maiden Marian.

I hate guys. Hate, hate,
hate
them. They never see what they have right in front of them. They only want what they can't have. Marian screwed Robin over. She sold him out for those fine diamonds around her neck. But does he hate her? Does he resent her for all she's done? No, he practically swoons at the sight of her. And where does that leave me, the girl who has been by his side this last month? The one who literally created his legend, started his fan club, and pushed him into his place in history. The girl who has proven her love and loyalty time and time again?

I'll tell you. It leaves me SOL.

Robin shakes his head and turns back to me. "Sorry," he mutters. "'Tis just… I have not seen her in near a summer."

"Whatever." I'm too annoyed to hear his excuses. I've seen the look in his eyes. The longing. The love. He will never look at me like that. If Marian came off that dais and ran toward him, he'd push me out of the way to get to her, never giving me a second thought.

Once again, I'm second-best.

"Are you all right?" Robin asks, peering at me with concern in his eyes.

The last thing I need is his pity.

"I'm fine," I say, forcing a smile that I'm sure doesn't quite reach my eyes. Not that he'll notice. "Fine as rain."

"You do not look it. Forsooth, you look quite pale. Too much sun, mayhap?"

God, men are idiots. My heart is breaking, and he thinks I have sunstroke.

"I'm
fine,"
I repeat firmly, crossing my arms over my chest and gritting my teeth.

He stares at me for a moment, opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again as trumpets sound. Saved by the bell.

"I think the tournament's starting," I say, mostly to get him to stop staring at me.

He sighs and nods. "Aye," he says. "I must get in place. We will talk later."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

He heads out into the courtyard, to the spot where the contestants are gathering. I glance back up at Marian, who is smiling and chattering to a girlfriend to her left, totally clueless to the drama going on below. She's gorgeous. I can totally see why Robin's so hung up on her. Pure white skin, dark eyes, high cheekbones. Spitting image of effing Angelina Jolie.