Robyn Hood: Fight For Freedom (19 page)

The abbots ate it up, like everyone else. “How do you practice?” the head abbot asked.

“Through competitions of a sort,” I said, motioning for my men to clear the camp and set up for practice. “For archery there is a target you
must
hit.”

“And if you miss it?” a monk inquired.

“Then you get smashed on the head by the good Friar Tuck,” Little John wearily said, having been the recipient of many head smashes.

“I don’t practice. Strictly speaking I’m not a Merry Man, so I’m an impartial judge,” Friar Tuck laughed.

“We also have cudgel practice and swordsmanship for a group of us as well. With those sports you get your smacks naturally when you mess up,” I said, taking my bow from Marian, who fussed with my clothes for appearance sake.

“Robyn always does the best in archery,” she proudly smiled, as though she owned my talent.

“Yes, but even I was punished once,” I cringed, recalling the moment. Instead of smashing me on the head the good Friar tucked me under his arm and dragged me about like I was a child for an hour. It was a humiliating experience. I would have preferred the smack in the head.

“The a
rchery range is ready,” Gilbert announced as a Merry Man tied a rope to the target and secured it to the tree. The target dangled from the branch, swinging in the breeze.

“Won’t that make it harder?” a monk asked.

“Exactly. We don’t hit stationary targets very often,” I said, stretching my limbs. “Who is up first?”

One by one my men paraded through
the range, many hitting it, a few missing it. Those that did miss bore Friar Tuck’s blows with good cheer.

Finally Will Scarlet was up. “Allow me to show you, good monks, how a real archer shoots,” he boasted.

Some of the Merry Men jeered and called him out.

“Boaster!”

“That’s puffed pride you’ve got there Scarlet!”

“Robyn will tan your hide!”

Will Scarlet ignored them and notched an arrow before lifting the bow up. He pulled back, anchoring the arrow by his chin, and aimed.

Just as he was about to release his arrow Marian, ever the sneaky girl, spoke. “Will Scarlet is called Scarlet because he blushes red whenever Robyn looks at him,” she announced.

Will wobbled as he released his arrow. The shot was off.
Way
off. It actually hit the trunk of a neighboring tree rather than the dangling target. Will spun on his heels. “Marian,” he hissed.

The rest of the Merry Men snickered.

“She got you good!”

“Down with the boaster!”

“Has he turned scarlet yet?”

Although Will Scarlet still professed to be profoundly in love with me, he wanted to be the improper peter who brought it up. He greatly disliked others singing about it—I suspect because he thought I would change my mind about him.

Marian smiled sweetly.

“That was hardly fair,” Will Scarlet declared.

“Take your blow from Friar Tuck, Scarlet and man up,” Little John chuckled as he checked his bow before striding up to the firing point.

Will Scarlet grumbled. “You’ll get yours, Little John,” he noted, dutifully walking over to Friar Tuck.

“He will be punished even though it was all in jest?” the head abbot asked, coming to stand next to me.

“Of course. We all play such tricks on each other, but if we’re actually in a heist we cannot afford to react to such insults,” I explained. “If we are off target by even a little we might accidentally kill someone,” I said.

“Sorry Scarlet. Rules are rules,” Friar Tuck chuckled before smashing Will Scarlet in the head, sending him tumbling to the ground.

“Come on Little John,” Much called, ignoring the scene. “My granny can shoot an arrow faster than you.”

“Prince
John
could shoot an arrow faster than you,” Will Stutely cackled.

“Men, behave yourselves,” I lectured.

“Yes Robyn.”

Little John breathed deeply, notched the arrow, took the proper stance, and anchored his hand.

Milliseconds before release Marian again opened her mouth. “There’s a saying in Nottingham, Robin Hood has no need for a dog because he’s got Little John.”

Little John fired the arrow, which also went wide, and turned to shout at Marian. “Take that back! I am no dog!”

“Of course you aren’t, Little John,” I said, soothing the giant. “But unfortunately you missed the mark just as widely as Will Scarlet.”

Little John groaned when he saw his arrow landed just above Will Scarlet’s.

This, of course, made the Merry men jeer.

“Hahah, he’s in the doghouse!”

“And he was calling out Scarlet, look what happened to him!

“Take your blow Little John,” Will Scarlet snarkily called.

“Be a man!” Will Stutely hooted.

Much wandered off to retrieve several of the arrows off the target for me while Little John grumpily walked over to Friar Tuck.

“Sorry Little John,” the Friar grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, rules are—omph,” Little John grunted when Friar Tuck smashed him, sending him flying to the ground.

“I’m up,” I said, flexing my wrists before I approached the firing line.

This motion raised shouts and cheers from the Merry Men as Marian handed me an arrow.

“Go Roby
n!”

“A Hood! A Hood! Roby
n A Hood!”

“Good luck Roby
n!”

I carefully notched an arrow while Much stood underneath the target, cheekily grinning at me.

“Take care not to get riled up like your best men were, Robin Hood!” Much sassily shouted.

I rolled my eyes and tossed aside my usual Robin Hood acting long enough to shout, “I have no pride, M
uch. You can’t upset me,” I said, moving the bow into the correct position.

“That man is just going to sit there?” an abbot hissed, pointing to the stationary Much.

“Robyn never misses. Not ever. He has nothing to fear,” Marian carelessly shrugged.

“Hey Robyn, your mother has the brain of a pea hen!” Much insulted, yelling from far down the archery range.

“Do not insult my mother Much. I’ll put dried apples in your clothes and let Crafty out.”

“How about the King then?” Much called.

“You so much as smear his name and I’ll shoot you dead,” I sneered.

“I thought you men were outlaws, bandits who worked against the king?” the head abbot asked.

“Please,” Marian snorted.

“The only thing placed higher on Robyn’s loyalty list than the King is God himself,” Will Scarlet said, rubbing the back of his head with a wince.

“How about this. You have the bravery of a worm,” Much laughed.

I sighed. “Childhood tactics aren’t going to work, Much.”

“Maid Marian, your fair lady, can handle a sword better than you,” Much continued.

“Thank you!” Marian preened.

I rolled my eyes. “Much,” I warned.

“Little John could carry you about like a toy.”

“Much.”

“My mother could beat you in an arm wrestling match.”

“MUCH! I don’t have any pride, but neither do I have any patience for your incessant babbling.
Shut
!
Up
!” I shouted before moving my arrow up from the target and fixing it on the rope that held the target in the air.

I release
d my shot, which snapped through the rope, making the target fall directly onto Much’s head.

“Ow!” he cried, plummeting to the ground.

“That will teach him,” I smirked.

“Good shot Robyn,” Will Scarlet said as my Merry Men cheered for me and booed at Much.

“Yes, there’s just one thing,” Little John nodded.

“What?” I asked, fixing the quiver on my back.

“You missed the target,” Will Scarlet reminded me.

I froze.

The humiliating hour of being dragged around by Friar Tuck replayed in my mind. “No,” I whispered

“Now, now Robyn, I’ve got to punish you too,” the Friar sighed. Instead of cracking his knuckles and grinning deviously like he usually did before administering a punishment he was brushing off his sleeves, clearly getting ready to lug me around again.

I wouldn’t be dragged around. I couldn’t!

“And I will take my punishment,” I agreed after a moment of hesitation
. I spun around and strode towards the visiting head abbot, who was sitting on a giant rock by the trickling river. “But I fear we have been ignoring our guests. Abbot, I ask that
you
would deal me my blow.”

The abbot shifted, clearly surprised. “Are you sure? I might not be Friar Tuck, but I can administer quite a stout blow.”

“I have no doubt of that,” I said, cringing while remembering how I bounced off him when I ran into him that morning. He wasn’t fat like Friar Tuck, but the man was a literal brick wall.

“No Robyn,” my men protested.

“You’ll be hurt.”

“Robyn!”

“Come now, you cannot change the rules of the game,” Friar Tuck protested.

“Just this once I will,” I laughed, stopping on the rive
r bank, smiling at the abbot as he slid off his rock.

“Robyn!” the Merry Men
murmured, clearly filled with concern.

“I’ll take the blow for you,” Little John volunteered.

“How about a reshoot?” Will Scarlet suggested.

“Hitting the
rope that strung the target in the air
might
qualify as hitting the target if we look at the technicalities,” Will Stutely suggested.

“Hitting the
twine, which is much smaller than the target, was more difficult!” a Merry Man shouted.

“Men!” I shouted
, silencing them. “I missed the target. I’ll take the blow,” I said before turning back to the abbot. “Do your worst good sir,” I said as Little John and Will Scarlet pushed their way towards me.

“Are you sure?” the abbot asked again, pushing the sleeve of his robe up his arm. (His
very
muscled arm.)

I swallowed and winced. “Yes,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut.

I felt the abbot shift, readying to hit me no doubt, when Will Scarlet and Little John shouted, “Robyn!”

I was abruptly pushed
sideways and swayed in the air, loosing my balance. I stumbled and fell right into the river.

I fell into three feet of water, soaking my entire body. I pushed myself up righ
t and lost my hat when I rolled into deeper waters and the river bank dropped out underneath my feet.

“LITTLE JOHN!” I howled.

“It wasn’t me, it was Will Stutely!”

“WILL!” I growled, thrashing in the water before pushing my long hair out of my face. The river had already carried away my hat, so my hair tumbled down past my shoulders in a wet curtain.

“Will I’m going to KILL YOU! Your mother will cry on your grave and your siblings will morn their loss!” I promised, slapping my hands on the water when I regained my footing and started walking up the river bank.

“
Every bloody time. EVERY TIME!” I shouted, emerging from the river. Water dripped off my clothes and clung to me like a second skin, outlining my chest. My hair hung long and loose. Even though it was soaking it was very clearly well kept and womanly.

A Merry Man waded knee high into the water, holding out a
blanket. I brushed him off and instead squeezed water out of my hair as more Merry Men swarmed around with concern.

“Robin Hood, the legendary outlaw… is a girl?” the head abbot asked with no small amount of disbelief.

I stepped out of the river, shaking my limbs. “Yes. Yes. Sorry for the deceit. WILL! You’re DEAD!” I bellowed before bending over to shake my head and rid my hair of more water. “I
hate
water,” I uttered after popping upright.

“I can’t believe it. Robin Hood, the King’s champion, is a woman,” the head abbot continued to muse. “How did that come about?”

I sighed and faced the monk, accepting a smaller towel from my men to wipe off my face. “It was all a misunderstanding. Some foresters were threatening Marian, I had to shoot at them. And then the Sheriff was going to have Much axed for killing a deer in Sherwood Forest. The list continues on. Everyone in my band is aware of who I really am: Robyn Smith. A girl from Nottinghamshire. It is only because of them that the legends of Robin Hood are so big. I couldn’t do anything without my men.”

“That’s a lie!” a Merry Man shouted.

“We need Robyn more than she needs us!”

“Without her we’re nothing.”

“She’s our master. We follow Robyn.”

“Robyn is our leader, she’s the only reason why the outlaws of
Sherwood Forest exist. She’s ours,” Will Scarlet said, edging in front of me to partially hide me, Little John mimicking the movement. “We will fight for her until the day we die.”