Robyn Hood: Fight For Freedom (10 page)

BOOK: Robyn Hood: Fight For Freedom
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Friar Tuck left after dinner, promising to return soon with information about Queen Eleanor and her luck at raising funds.
That left me to face Marian the following day with the bad news.

 

 

“Maybe I should come with you,” Little John suggested as we ate breakfast the following morning. “If
there are two of us she can’t kill you. There would be a witness.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said, popping a nut in my mouth.

“I’ll come with!” Will Scarlet volunteered, sitting next to me, stirring a bowl of berries.

“No, you will
not
,” Much announced. “I’ll be going. You can stay behind and teach swordsmanship to the trainees,” Much decided.

“What?” Will Scarlet protested.

“I haven’t been out with Robyn in
months
, it’s my turn,” Much said, stomping a foot on the ground.

“Much is
right,” I agreed. “I promise I’ll bring you with next time Will,” I said, getting off my log. “We’re going disguised as a gaggle of females,” I announced.

“Surely you jest.
Stutely’s sister does not have the facial stubble Little John sports,” Much snorted.

“If we aren’t dressed as ladies you two will find some tanner, or butcher, or other potential Merry Man for me to fight and get thoroughly thrashed by. We go as women,” I firmly stated.

 

 

In the end we started wandering through the forest, utterly undisguised, wearing our usual lincoln green clothes. Our disguises, the black robes of nuns, were shoved in the packs that Little John carried on his back.

We headed down the same trail I had taken the previous day, moving quietly as forest deer. It was a good thing too, or we might have unknowingly announced our presence to the singing musician/harper I ran into the day before.

Today he was not singing at all. Instead he was sitting on the ground, leaning against a rock. His shoulders were slouched, and he cradled his head in his hands.

I stopped to stare at the changed man as Much and Little John started to skirt around the small path he was sitting on.

“What’s wrong with him?” I murmured, continuing to stare at him.

“What?” Little John asked, slinking back to my side.

“I saw this young lad just yesterday. He was as happy as could be. Today it appears as though his life has been wrenched from him,” I said, watching the dejected harper with a curious frown.

Little John and Much swapped shrugs before walking away from me, bursting into the singer’s sight.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

They ignored me and swaggered up to the minstrel.

The minstrel looked up with sad eyes. “If you’re here to rob me I have nothing,” he bluntly said.

Little John chuckled. “If we were thieves we would n
ot be going after such a small tidbit as you.”

“We mean you no harm. For now,” Much added.

“Our leader wants to enquire after you. Sh-he’s over there. Come on, be a man and stand,” Little John bid.

“There is nothing wrong with my legs, I can come out of the shadows on my own,” I dryly announced, still hanging back in the shadows to tuck up the last few locks of my hair before I joined my Merry Men.

“I speak the truth. I really have nothing of value on me. Except this ring,” the minstrel said, looking down at a simple, silver ring he held in his palm. “And you are welcome to it if you so desire. It is no longer any good to me,” he bitterly sighed.

I rolled my eye as I strode up to the young boy. If this minstrel was anything like Dan the Musician, or the other singers and minstrels Marian had told me about, he was most likely being overly dramatic and
was filled with creative sorrow.

“What good is a ring to you anyway?” I asked. “Some sort of birthright?” I had never heard of a minstrel with a birthright, but there is a first time for everything.

“Nay,” the minstrel sadly sighed.

Little John blinked and bent over, inspecting the plain ring. “Oh, it’s a wedding ring,” he announced, standing up to smile at me.

I narrowed my eyes and gazed up at him. “You had better know that for a practical reason, and not because of…,” I let my sentence trail off, trusting Little John would know I was alluding to the unspeakable confession incident.

“No
pe. We’ve stolen plenty of them off Maid Marian’s potential swains,” Little John smiled.

I started breathing once again before turning back to the minstrel, who seemed to be unable to keep his neck from drooping. “See now, young minstrel. What on earth is wrong with you? Yesterday you were singing like a lark, today you are as dumpy as a vulture and carrying around a wedding ring. What happened?”

The minstrel finally looked up at me and blinked. “You saw me yesterday? But I was out here alone, in the woods. I only saw a single maid pass through here before I returned home.”

“Erm,” I brightly said. Ma
yhap he wasn’t as clueless and stupid as I had originally suspected.

“Truthfully
my life was perfect then. Ellen was going to marry me,” the minstrel said, growing sad again.

“Oh, so she changed her mind?” Much callously asked, scratching his scalp.

“No!” The minstrel said, bursting to his feet. “Her parents are making her marry an old windbag of a knight! They said I’m only a minstrel, I couldn’t possibly provide for her. Which is true, compared to a knight I…,” the harper broke off in a sigh.

“She probably changed her mind,” Little John whispered to Much who nodded in consent.

I elbowed Little John before turning back to the harper. “What is your name?” I kindly asked.

“Alan-A-Dale,” he replied.

“Well Alan-A-Dale, you are in luck. It just so happens that today I feel the need to reunite lovers and save fair maidens who are being unwillingly married,” I announced.

“Hoping to soften Marian’s heart with tales of your heroic acts?” Little John asked. “It won’t work. She’s not really what you would call a romantic soul.”

“So it is you then!” Alan-A-Dale cried. “You are the good outlaw Robin Hood! Then you can only be Little John, and you are…,” the minstrel fell silent when his eyes landed on Much, who was quite obviously not the scarlet clad Will Scarlet who usually finished the trio.

“Much,” Much supplied with a pinched expression. “Her first
Merry Man.”

“You are Much the miller’s son! Robin Hood’s greatest and most experienced Merry Man! I never thought I would live to meet such well known
heroes!” Alan-A-Dale said, recovering and reacting so splendidly Much couldn’t help but forgive the minstrel for not recognizing him on sight.

I smiled as Alan-A-Dale turned his attention back to me. “Then were you the fair maiden yesterday? You make a beautiful lady,” he earnestly complimented me.

“Ah-um. Er,” I uncomfortably shifted.


I have no gift I can give you for the feat you are about to perform for me… but I will serve you for the rest of my days, Robin Hood,” Alan-A-Dale continued, kneeling at my feet.

This made me smile in genuine happiness. “That is good to hear Alan-A-Dale. For you never know when I might need the services of a harper,” I said, winking at the young man. “Now, where is this sweetheart of yours? Is she being held in a tower?” I asked. Marian’s wild stories were starting to rub off on me.

“Nay,” the minstrel replied. “Soon she will be at the church, which is but five miles from this place. Her parents are marrying her off today.”

“Is that so,” I said as I looked Alan-A-Dale up and down. I was an inch or two taller than him, but as long as I wore my boots no one would notice the shortness in my hose. “I shall go ahead in disguise. You, Alan-A-Dale, will return to my camp in Sherwood with Much and Little John,” I said before turning to my accompanying Merry Men, who were already starting to object. “I need you two
to go and gather twenty Merry Men and Friar Tuck. When I blow my horn during the ceremony come to my side.”

“Heavens no,” Much refused at the same time Little John spoke.

“You’ll be disguised?”

“Yes,” I replied to my second in command’s question. “I’ll go in Alan’s clothes and be a harper or minstrel.”

Much made more noises of disbelief while Little John rubbed his chin.

“It might work. Your face is fine
so you’ll look young enough for your high singing voice. But you should take Much with you,” he concluded.

“Agreed
,” I said, knowing this was probably the best deal I was going to get out of the pair. “Alright, Alan-A-Dale. Let’s switch clothes,” I said, turning to the young minstrel.

He was horrified. “I could
never
wear Robin Hood’s clothes.”

“Which is good because we wouldn’t let you,” Little John rumbled. “He can wear one of the nun robes until we get him back in
camp and kitted up with a Sherwood uniform.”

I shrugged off my quiver and handed it to Much, who would have to carry my weapons for me. “
As you wish. But he had best start stripping,” I said, removing my large hunting knife from the sheath strapped to my side.

“And he will. Out of your sight,” Much said, pushing me out of the small copse.

Alan’s clothes were red, almost the same scarlet shade of Will Scarlet’s. The red hose was fine as long as I wore my boots. However, his ruffled shirt was much too small for my…erm… chest.

“This could be a problem,” I said, looking down at myself.
I could button the shirt but I was clearly of the female gender with the fabric settling on my female curves.

“Sir Robin Hood, do they fit alright, heeaaaa,” Alan-A-Dale coughed when Little John abruptly yanked him back by the collar of his shirt, but it was already too late.
He goggled at me, clearly seeing the truth.

Much sighed
and removed his brown, leather vest as he walked past the stupefied minstrel and regretful Little John. “Here. Wear my vest. Little John’s would not only drown you, but since he had it colored green it would surely make you look like Father Christmas.”

“Thanks,” I said, sliding into the proffered clothing item. I laced it up and was quiet satisfied with the end result.
I carefully placed a strip of cloth running down my stomach so my front looked more flat than slanted. Little John and Much were also satisfied after a careful inspection.

“What do you think?” I asked, bending over to pick up Alan’s harp. I tucked it in the crook of one arm and lazily stroked the strings with my free hand.

“It works,” Little John agreed.

“You look like Dan the Musician when he’s trying to be especially smarmy,” Much laughed.

“Who?” Little John asked.

“No one,” I waved my hand before turning to the recovering harper. “And you, Alan-A-Dale. Are you alright with this?”

“You were an awfully beautiful lady,” Alan told me, ruffling his nun robes. “A part of me wondered. But, Madame Robin Hood, you still have my loyalty and life for as long as you can use it.”

“Thank you master harper. I hope
we are able to rescue your Ellen,” I stretched. “Much, we’re going,” I said, abruptly striding off through the forest. “Be ready Little John.”

“I will!” the giant man called back, assuring me.

 

Chapter 6

Wedding Crashers

An hour or so later Much and I found the church, which was nestled in a pleasant orchard. “Stay out here. Out of sight,” I ordered.

Much grumbled but climbed a nearby tree, perfectly blending in with the green leaves.

I took a deep breath before I strolled up the church path, humming the deepest notes I could while plucking at a few of the harp strings.

A stout churchman, who I observed to be a bishop by his robes, was opening the doors of the church. He was one of the unpleasant church fellows that I wouldn’t like. He was the type to let the poor starve and keep the church coffers for himself.

He smiled at me, glancing down at my harp. “God has given you a gift of music
, has he?”

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