Robin Hood: Sherwood Forest 16

Marian was loading supplies onto a cart that afternoon, wondering to herself that Tuck seemed to keep eking out enough to make through another week, despite the money the sheriff had taken. That Tuck was a wonder. Surely there were angels helping him. She checked to straps one more time to make sure that Abraham, the donkey, would not pull free from the cart as he had in the past. She had just finished this task when a thunder came from the north road. It was rare indeed to see a group of horses come racing into town this way. Led by the sheriff, she saw Roland, who had been gone since the beginning of Lent and his mates, as well as some unfamiliar faces. Each one rougher than the last, these new men struck Marian as fearsome indeed. She coaxed Abraham to get started, and led him away towards St. Anne’s.
The sheriff, having proof at last of foul play near Sherwood forest, came to the new and inexplicable conclusion that the outlaws hiding in the forest had become too bold in their incursions. How they had switched chests in the second delivery was still a mystery, but at last he had a culprit in sight and a plan of action at hand. These outlaws were at his mercy. He would begin his hunt of them immediately. It mattered not whether the ones he found were responsible for the crime, they would make a fine example to any thinking they could make a fool of the sheriff.
They had rode hard for the remainder of the trip and came into Nottingham with the horses foaming and the men tired but reinvigorated. It was a bit late in the day to begin a forest hunt, but the sheriff would not be put off. The men collected extra supplies and set off immediately for Sherwood. They came across Friar Tuck coming from St. Anne’s. He had his usual cart of wine and a cage of pigeons presumably for correspondence with nearby monasteries. As usual, the fat friar was taking up the whole road causing the hunting party to slow and go around. Ignoring the sheriff, he called to Mace, a rogue who had befriended Tuck over many a cup of wine.
“Where are you lot off to so late in the day?” He said amiably.
“To hunt the outlaws in Sherwood Forest!” said Mace, excited.
“They’ve attacked a delivery of donations to a monastery in the south.” said the sheriff hoping to add legitimacy and sympathy to his cause. In his mind, this is exactly what had happened.
“Donations for a monastery!” said Tuck addressing the sheriff for the first time. “That’s deplorable! Though it is odd. What were donations to a monastery in the south doing in the midlands? Where were they bound from?”
“We haven’t time for your blathering questions!” said the sheriff, no longer concerned with garnering sympathy. “There’s precious little daylight left, and I’ll have some heads to put on spikes before the day is out!” with that, the sheriff’s men muscled past the friar’s cart and rode off to the forest.
Right then and there, Friar Tuck went to his cage of pigeons, wrote a hasty note, rolled it tightly, and deftly attached it to one of the bird’s delicate legs. The dusty cousin to the dove flew off on his own mission of peace, overtaking the sheriff and arriving in the heart of Sherwood village, well ahead of William Brewer.
It was dark by the time the sheriff and his men reached the heart of the forest. A mist had crept from all around and lay writhing on ground; ephemeral and gossamer. They had not seen any sign of outlaws, but no one knew how many lived in the forest, or where they were. Some rumors said that they fought each other ferociously, and as a result, only a few truly brutal and evil murderers remained. Whatever the truth was, the sheriff had expected to find some cook fires or tracks, or if not actual outlaws, some clue as to their whereabouts.

They had lit torches to see by, but didn’t seem to realize that this left them exposed. The search party was grimly quiet as landmarks became hard to distinguish in the dim light cast by the torches. They listened intently, but heard little, save for the crackle of the torches. There was the occasional call of the owl. In the distance, from time to time a wolf would howl, and from somewhere else came an answering call. Was it the wolf that had dug up the corpse? They seemed to be surrounding the men, who were becoming aware that their light was a beacon sending all manor of evil directly to them. The horses had become skittish, and Roland complained of the feeling of going in circles. There was no moon, and the trees were still mostly bare from winter. The torchlight cast skeletal shadows from the branches of the dormant trees.
“Did you hear that?” Mace said.
“What?” said Roland.
“Quiet!” said the sheriff.
They all listened, and sure enough, an eerie, spectral, ribbon of sound came fluttering from somewhere nearby. It was followed a moment later by a higher pitched, sharp howl; this time much closer. Instinctively, the boys huddled their horses close together.
“Up there!” said one of the new men. The sheriff looked up, and to his horror, he saw a white, astral shapeless form, billowing ghostlike in a tree directly above them. Roland’s horse reared up onto its hind legs either from fright or Roland pulling on the reins tightly in his own fright. The horse let out its own haunting whinny.
“Calm down!” demanded the sheriff. He had never seen a ghost before and was not sure of what he had just witnessed, but his heart was pounding in his chest and it was hard to think. Then, there was an inhuman deafening shriek directly in their midst, and as the horses fought the reins to get clear of the cursed ground upon which they found themselves, torchlight revealed a black cat directly in the center of the party. Its back arched and each hair on the back of the demonic creature standing straight up. It was if it had just leapt from the trees and landed right in their midst!

Upon sighting the devil’s familiar, the search party needed no further encouragement, but bolted away recklessly disregarding the danger of unseen trees or undergrowth in the dark. They didn’t stop until they saw the lights of Nottingham.
The castle, as it was known, housed the sheriff's office downstairs, and the men had stayed there through out the night. Mrs. Brewer had not been pleased to be awoken in the night, as it had been quite late by the time the men had returned. Yet she had seen that each man had a blanket and then she attended a kettle. After this, she returned to sleep, and in the morning, suspected that she had dreamt the whole ordeal. All the men were chagrined in the light of day, none more than the sheriff, though he held that the men had panicked his horse and he would have stayed through the night and caught the murderers in their forest beds.

Robin Hood: At The Church of St. Mary's 8

Maggie did indeed make a speedy recovery. Some thought the old hermit employed magic, but Wulfhere just said; "Magic is only something which you do not know the recipe to." He showed them the ingredients to the potion and shared his idea about it being a desert, and there was no more talk of witchcraft.
The days turned into weeks and in the spirit of making the forest a cherry or, as others would have it; a merry place, some began to build homes. Robin decided to build his in the trees to make it harder to see and others followed suit. Still others built theirs in the ground and disguised them as bushes. Some were quite simple and others were veritable warrens with rooms and tunnels and cunning chimneys to diffuse the smoke. Robin found a large oak, and started with a deck that soon had a roof and then walls sprang up with little windows to let in the north light and overlook the forest.
Many looked to Robin as a leader though some refused to have a leader or wanted to be in charge themselves. Robin offered advice when asked, voted when there was a vote and argued his point when necessary but never forced his will on the others. He wanted the forest to be a place of liberty and not another place where dissenters could be banished from. The story of the gold came out, but Robin, Will and John were considered its owners and they did indeed decide to distribute it among the poor of the shire. What had seemed like a fortune was spread miserably thin in that way, and as the boys were spoiling for some action, plots began to be hatched in the usual way: they were sat on, nurtured and kept warm until their time was ripe.

In Nottingham, Candlemass came and went and the sheriff had received word that his latest shipment had never arrived, and the lads guarding it had disappeared likewise. There were only two possibilities as Bill saw it. either the guards had made off with the gold, and gone to London or some other place where three men with money could disappear into, or they had been waylaid at some point along the path by highwaymen. Either way, that money was gone and would have to be remade. There was little realistic chance of getting anything substantial until spring through taxation of peasants, but people always gave to the church and he had three of those going, all well outside Nottingham so as to have the veneer of legitimacy.
The local church, St Mary‘s, named for the Virgin, was where the gentry and the peasants went to pray for their miserable existences. The abbot, as St Anne’s was also a monastery, a certain Father Cedric, had long been a friend of Bill’s and gladly paid the sheriff for the protection the sheriff was supposed to provide by royal decree. Bill decided to visit his old friend and see if the basket could be passed a second time under some pretense.
The sun had begun to show a little more every day, turning snow into ice as it melted during the day and refroze at night, making the path treacherous. Bill liked that word, and saw many things as treacherous. That bleak morning, the light shone on the old Saxon tower of the crossing, yet the ground remained in shadow. Inside the church, the sheriff found the church was already inhabited by to figures; one in the nave and one in the presbytery. The monk at the alter was tending to the candles in some ceremony unknown to the sheriff. The woman in the pew was deep in meditative prayer. Bill belatedly knelt and crossed himself and feigned prayer in the back pew for a moment so that he wouldn't be seen as impious. He was, after all the benefactor of three wealthy monasteries. He had expected to see the priest at the alter and not some friar. He decided he had completed the required pretense, and strode down the nave toward the alter, armed and wearing his feathered hat.
Surely the monk saw him, but he went about his ritual as if God were more important than the sheriff’s business. These monks had to learn their place he felt. Clergy of any office or responsibility knew how the world worked but monks and nuns seemed to think they had only God to answer to. It was utterly ridiculous and irritating beyond measure. When the sheriff had reached the alter and the monk still did not offer to be of service, the sheriff cleared his throat. The monk looked up and the sheriff saw the most amazing transformation take place: The monk’s eyes went from open and smiling to deep, cavernous pits of wrath such as the sheriff had not seen since he was a child.
“Your hat, sir!” Said the monk. “And your sword and dagger! This is a house of God and none shall come bearing weapons!” The sheriff removed his hat and sword belt and cast about looking for a place to put them, like a broom corner.
“I’m here to see Father Cedric.” whispered the sheriff, head bowed.
“He is in the garden, taking the air.” said the monk, dismissively.
The sheriff turned and left and it wasn’t until he got outside that he realized he had been scolded by a beggar. That’s what monks did, was it not? They were lazy and shiftless, and had no manners and no schooling. He put his hat back on and his sword and with each step became more and more furious. No one spoke to him that way. Even his mother was afraid of him. He was High Sheriff of Nottinghamshire! He had the kings business to conduct! He was so lost in thought that it was some time before he found Cedric, who was preoccupied with two parishioners. As he drew closer, the sheriff realized that they were in fact the same two who had been in the church. Had they come to tattle on him? How had they beat him here? It was outlandish! He hurried up to the group as if he were late. He would get his side in before it was too late.
“And there will be games and food...” the woman was saying.
“And wine and beer!” said the monk.
“We will have an archery contest, and a dance, and raise money for the children of St Anne’s” the woman said.
What? they weren’t talking about him at all? That seemed odd. What were they talking about? Some kind of celebration?
“Ah Sheriff; have you come to help with the Shrove Tuesday plans?” Said Cedric. Unlike the monk, Cedric was tall and skinny and had a full head of hair, though it was white as new snow.
“Shrove Tuesday?” said the sheriff.
“The day before Ash Wednesday?” said the monk helpfully, again as if he were addressing a child.
“I know what Shrove Tuesday is!” said the sheriff with such force that the three just stared at him with bewilderment.
“Well, it’s coming up, and the first chance for the townsfolk to have an outdoor gathering since winter.” said the woman. Did these people think he was an imbecile? “There will be music and pies, and a puppet show for the children!” The woman was quite excited.
“Marion, it’s wonderful that you care so much for the orphans.” Said the monk.
“Aye, sure you will make a wonderful mother yourself, one day” said the priest. The girl blushed, and smiled; the rose on her cheeks like a nimbus, her eyes dancing with sparkling liquid, then fluttering into a lashed veil, casting a shadow on her vivid blue eyes which were enshrined under her burnished, brown hair. She turned lyrically to the sheriff, perhaps expecting a third compliment from the third man. She realized her mistake immediately. The magic and grace fell from her face revealing the uncomfortable fear Bill was used to seeing.
“Well, make sure there isn’t too much drunkenness.” said the sheriff. “I have more important things to attend to than ...” the sheriff searched for correct term.
“The safety of the common tax payer?” the monk offered helpfully.
The sheriff shot the monk a look that unleashed the full scorn available face practiced at withering, penetrating, glaring stares. The monk seemed not to notice.
“The trivialities of common peasants.” spat the sheriff, glad to have been able to sufficiently word his disdain. Again, the monk seemed not to notice.
Now the girl, whom the sheriff caught beaming at the monk, turned back to Cedric, effectively turning her back on him. She said, “Well, Father, I look forward to it. I shall begin picking berries for the pies and tarts.” She bowed to the priest, in his black frock, and turned to the monk in his brown robe. She smiled genuinely at him, placed her delicate hands in his plump, generous ones and said, “Let me know if I can help in any way, Friar Tuck” He smiled in return, and she spun away in such a fashion as to avoid facing Bill at all, and seemed to glide away down the path of winter hellebore in her pale blue woolen dress.
Having watched her departure the three men turned to face one another, and after an awkward moment, Tuck said, “well those children will no doubt be plotting to overthrow the orphanage, if I stay away any longer.” With that he went first the opposite direction of Marion, thought better of it, and came back down the path, stepping awkwardly between the two older men, and made his way somewhat less gracefully than Marion had.
“Well, now that it’s just us adults, perhaps you can find a moment to tear yourself away from your flowers for a moment to discuss matters of some importance.”
“Let adjourn to the rectory where we can talk in comfort and in private.” said the priest.

Friar Tuck had got about halfway to the orphanage when he remembered that he had been discussing the matter of the supply of spirits at the festival. He’d be damned if he would see lent come without a proper supply of wine to say goodbye to. Well, it was really good bye to meat, that’s what carnival meant in Latin: “carne” for “meat” like “carnivore” and “vale” meaning “farewell.” It was vulgar Latin to be sure, never-the-less. There were those that made the jump to “farewell to the flesh” meaning all worldly things, but the good Lord surely didn’t mean wine, why that was the sacrament. Unfortunately, the Abbot, Friar Stephen, thought monks should set an example. When Tuck became a monk, he gladly became celibate and taking a vow of poverty was no great jump for him, but sobriety? Where was that in the vows?
He was contemplating these matters of the spirit when he came upon the rectory of Father Cedric. He was about to knock on the door when he heard the sheriff’s voice inside. He did not care for the sheriff. Tuck believed that we are all God’s children, but the sheriff seemed to think that as sheriff he was above all that. Tuck believed that men of God should be as Godly as they could, and that likewise, men of the law should be as lawful as they could.
“I don’t understand how your missing chests of gold should be the burden of St. Mary’s or St Anne’s” Cedric was saying.
“I will tell you how, my dear Father. Those thieves are still out there. And it is up to me to catch them. How can I devote my full time to such an endeavor and keep your precious parish safe from these murderous bandits if the funds I depend on to do so are missing!”
“But the money raised at the festival is for the orphans!” pleaded Cedric.
“Bah! Orphans! They will grow up to be the next generations murderous bandits!” said the sheriff. “Besides, I only ask a small percentage of the days take. If you get more people to attend, you won’t even notice I’ve taken anything. It’s no extra work for you at all.”
“Extra people means extra work. It means extra everything!” said the priest. “How much is ‘a small percentage’?”
“Half.” said the sheriff.

Robin Hood: The Dream 7

The journey back to Sherwood started off normal enough; the four men spent the night at the hermit's cave in the woods of Derby. Wulfhere, the hermit needed to get his medicines and things for the journey. It was generally believed that once the healer arrived at the burgeoning community, he would choose to join them. But that night, Robin had a strange dream. He dreamed he was betrothed to the Virgin Mary, and that Pontius Pilot was chasing him through the woods. Deeper and deeper into unknown territory he ran. He couldn't lose his pursuers because he was leaving a trail of gold coins everywhere he went. The Virgin Mary kept telling him to feed the poor, but the game in the woods was becoming more and more elusive. Although he was unable to help the poor, who were multiplying in numbers and were impeding his getaway even more, they loved him and wanted to help him and sing his praises. This only resulted in Pontius Pilot hating him more and using the cheering of the poor to locate Robin even more easily.
Robin woke up in a sweat, despite the cold. He turned over to shake away the nightmare and saw Wulfhere staring at him, wide awake himself.
They left before first light, in a dense fog and journeyed in silence for hours. Robin was unsettled by his dream, and kept turning it over in his head, trying to figure it out. By midday, the fog had not cleared, and the terrain was overgrown and dense, making it difficult to tell if they were making good progress or even going in the right direction. The hermit seemed to dose most of the time and Robin wondered how he stayed on his horse. Will and John were unusually quiet also, as if troubled by dreams of their own.
"We should be in sight of Sherwood by now." grumbled John.
"Aye." said Will. The journey would take about a half a day by foot by road. They were horseback, but traveling through the woods, and they were taking a different rout to avoid showing the stranger any hint of the gold about which they had told him nothing.
"I would have thought experienced forest dwellers such as yourselves would know the way." said the old man. He was sleight and weathered. His coarse woolen clothes were the color of dirt. Robin wasn't sure at first if they were just dirty or dyed that color, but after seeing how fastidious and clean he was at his cave, Robin realized the hermits clothes were like that on purpose. It was as if the man wanted people to think he was dirty and reclusive and crazy, when he didn't really seem to be any of those things at all.
"We know where we are, old man." said Will as if he hadn't just admitted the exact opposite. A moment later there was a surprisingly bad bird call from the trees just ahead. It sounded exactly like a person who had no idea how to make a bird call making a bird call.
"Sounds like a cuckoo." said Wulfhere.
"That's our man." said John. "He's signaling the others that we're here." As they walked on, people began to appear out of the woods.
It had been about a week since people had decided to bring their families and make a more permanent home in the forest, and some of the wives and children had begun to arrive. It was an odd tableau; not unlike a scene in Robin's dream. In fact, since he had woken from it, it had been hard to shake. The journey home, the memory of the gold, the eyes of the hermit all seemed tied to the dream somehow, and now these smiling faces, so glad to see him as if he had wrought this community from thin air all on his own. Were they the poor from his dream that he was unable to feed and yet seemed to love him for things he couldn't quite take credit for?
Presently, Tom, Audrey, Maggie, Bridged and Hank met the four horsemen. Audrey handed Maggie to Robin, who kissed her forehead, noticing the fever that burned there, and he handed her gently to Wulfhere. Wulfhere looked from Robin to Audrey to Tom and surveyed the crowd. Finally, he gave his attention to Maggie.

The hermit took in the way they all looked to Robin, and Robin's own expression was not lost on him. As he turned his attention to the babe, he wished they had gone into a tent or somewhere private to carry out the examination. He had seen far more civilized looking crowds turn ugly at an unsuccessful healing. These people looked like murderers to begin with. The child had a high fever, her nose was red and runny, and she looked miserable. Her eyes were sunken and dark as if she hadn't slept. She had no lesions. There was nothing to indicate she had anything other than a cold, though it was clearly a severe one. He handed the child back to her mother and right there on his horse began to mix a concoction from pouches he had with him. It was mostly honey and an bark like herb from the Indies called cinnamon. He asked for some fresh goat's milk and mixed the potion in with the milk. He tasted it and thought it would make a fine desert. He hoped his experience with these mixtures held true, for this cured most colds. He gave instructions to feed it to the child, promised to make more, and said to give it some time.
"That's it?" asked Robin. the hermit shrugged.
"We will see. She should respond well to the potion, but if the sickness persists, we may have to try something else. All we can do now is pray." Then he changed the subject. "So, are you the leader of this band of outlaws?"
"Aye. That he is." said a man that Robin didn't even recognize.
"And we came the way we did to avoid the scene of your latest crime, eh?" Robin and John exchanged guilty looks. "Well, you're not exactly living extravagantly here. What do you do; Rob from the rich and give to the poor?" Robin and John exchanged looks once again.

Robin Hood: The Tavern 6

"We can't take the cart through the forest, the wheels need to be on a road; And we can't take the road or we'll be seen." said Will.
"These boxes are too heavy to carry without the cart." said John.
"We'll bury the men in the woods. We'll take apart the cart and use it for firewood. We'll take some money and bury the rest, and come back for it later. We have to get to Derby to find the hermit. We will take the horses and sell them there. Let's get going." said Robin.

The journey to Derby went with no further incident. John and Will were at times animatedly regaling each other with ever more vivid and exaggerated renditions of the adventure of the day, and at times quiet. Robin was fairly grim the rest of the journey. He was not by nature moody person, but he had never killed anyone before and he was sure that nothing but trouble could come of that gold. There had to be a way to be rid of it.
Upon reaching Derby, the party visited Audrey's sister, gave her some of the money as she was as nearly destitute herself. They traded the horses for three fresh mounts. Dierdre, Audrey's sister, wasn't sure exactly where to find the hermit, but told them where the wood could be found where he was generally believed to live.
After a short time in the Derby wood, the party became lost and decided to head back to town to see if they could find better directions in the tavern. None of them had been to a tavern since they had been outlawed and they were all looking forward to a tall ale. Neither the innkeeper, nor his wife knew of the hermit and there was only one other patron there besides themselves, and he seemed surely, so they decided to enjoy a hot meal and a pint of ale and wait for more customers to arrive.
Robin enjoyed his ale as much as the next man, but didn't want to waste the afternoon drinking when they were on an errand after a sick little girl. He approached the lone patron nursing his beer. "Hello, friend." he said. "I wonder if you can help me?" The man looked up without lifting his head or otherwise moving at all. "My friends and I are looking for a man who lives in the wood...."
"Then you should be looking in the wood, no?" replied the man.
"We were hoping he might help us to heal a sick little girl." said Robin.
"Ah so you're drinking the afternoon away, eh. You must be quite concerned about your sick little girl" came the response.
"Well, we looked in the wood, but as we were unsure where about in the wood to look, we thought there would be people here who might know the man."
"Am I so fierce that you had to finish your pint to screw up the courage to talk to me, then?"
"Why are you wasting your time talking to that tattered old man?" said John from across the room.
"Least I don't smell like a bear that ate some bad eggs, anyways" grumbled the man. Robin couldn't help but chuckle at that, but John did not find it humorous in the least.
"You had best be careful who you through your insults at!" said John.
"Me? You said I was 'tattered!'"
"Well, you are tattered!"
"And you really do smell!"
"All right!" Robin said. "Calm down! The both of you! You are like children!"
There was a moment of silence, then the old man said, "What's the matter with the child?"
"It started as a cold. High fever, sneezing, coughing. But it has gone on too long. She's not sleeping through the night. Her parents are worried they might lose her." Robin said.
"'Her parents?' What do you mean? None of you is the father? Why would you come all the way from Sherwood for someone else's baby?"
"How did you know we were from Sherwood?" John asked.
"You are not the only ones who come to the tavern to hear the gossip." said the man.
"Look, do you know where to find the hermit or not?" said John, exasperated.
"Isn't it obvious?" said Will. "He is the hermit."
"That is ridiculous!" said John. "A hermit in a tavern? Hermits like to be alone!"
"Aye and I was alone, until you lot showed up." The three looked at the old man incredulously. "What? Where am I supposed to get my ale, eh? I live in a bloody forest! what would you know about it?"
"That is a story that might surprise even you, old man." said Robin. "We all live in Sherwood Forest."
"What the baby too? No wonder it's sick."
"Aye, the baby too. Though she was sick before she moved to the forest." said John.
"Will you come to have a look at her?" said Robin.
"I reckon I will."

Thieves & Murderers 5

That first night, they built several campfires in a big clearing. There was no organization, and many of the outlaws hadn't met each other. Until now, they had lived solitary or in small groups and gave each other a wide berth. Like Robin, they didn't really think of themselves as outlaws and imagined all the others were dangerous criminals. They had all suffered at the hands of the sheriff, some simply for helping friends or relatives who had been outlawed. They feasted on what they could all bring to the circle. As in any such event, what had not seemed like much by itself turned out to be more than enough when taken as a whole. Robin thought this was probably true of the people as well.
That night the men of the forest had their first taste of fraternity in a long time. To be an outlaw was akin to banishment. They sang songs and drank ale that had been squirreled away and forgot their cares for a time. Though Robin and John had called them out together in the clearing, it was Tom that bound them together. He became a symbol of what they had all gone through to come to live in the forest. Some lived in caves, but most were afraid to stay in any one place for any length of time. Seeing Tom with his family gave others hope that they might be united with their families. Any wives and children had been sent to live with relatives or friends, because the forest was thought to be too dangerous. Now with the idea of a community blossoming in Sherwood Forest, many openly spoke of their longing for their families for the first time since coming to the forest.
Bill checked the locks on the chests a final time that cold winter morning. Some of the money he collected had to be sent on to the crown as a small portion of the taxes he collected were legitimate. He kept a good portion of that for himself with the ongoing explanation that the people were either too poor to pay the king, or were holding back on the crown. The lion's share of the money he collected went to a monastery in Mottisfont in Hampshire, which Bill founded as shelter for his wealth. That is where this shipment of money was going. It was a long journey, and Bill could not afford for himself or his men to be away from the large Nottinghamshire for the length of the journey. He had hired professional couriers from Hampshire to make the journey. He contracted these couriers to make deliveries to all three of the monasteries he endowed and all his businesses throughout the realm. There were three chests weighing nearly 100st all together. they were placed on a two wheeled cart, which was then covered with a plank and sealed with a lock.
They would take the old Roman Road south to Hampshire.

Maggie had taken a turn for the worse and the moral of the new community at Sherwood Forest was down. There was a consensus that something should be done. Audrey had an aunt in Derby, who talked often of an old hermit who lived in the woods of those parts who was a healer of some renown. Immediately feeling camaraderie for a fellow forest dweller, the entire population voted unanimously to seek out the hermit and persuade him to come to Maggie's aid. As it was winter, and Maggie was such a wee lass, time was of the essence, and in what was to be the first of many journeys through out England, Robin and John set off at once. With them was a young outlaw by the name of Will Scarlett.
They had started before sunset and there had been a blanket of mist covering the wood. None had a horse of their own, but in the spirit of community, three horses were donated for the purpose of the journey from the outlaws. They were all three nags, each one worse than the last. As the sun came up behind them, they fell into easy company, talking when they had a mind to, but quiet for the most part.
"Where did you learn to shoot so keenly?" Asked John. "I've heard of a man fishing with a bow, but that was the first I'd seen it."
"My father taught me." said Robin. "He fought for Henry Plantagenet. He preferred this longbow over the common bow of the day." Robin’s face took on a wistful look at the memory.
“I prefer a regular bow,” said Will. “It’s faster.”
“Aye. a bit.” said Robin. “But the longbow has better range, is more accurate and is powerful enough to pierce armor. I’ll keep my longbow.”
“Could you teach me to shoot it?” Asked John.
“I’ll teach you to use a short bow!” said Will. “It’s faster. Don’t believe that hogwash about armor. No arrow can do that.”
“I was asking Robin to teach me.” said John.
“I’m as good an archer as Robin!” said Will, hotly. “I’m as good as anybody!”
“Quiet!” Robin commanded with such urgency that the two who had been arguing gave each other a look that said, ‘Well, look who’s king now.” but they did become quiet.
Robin stopped his horse, and so did John and Will. In the silence, there could be heard two men arguing and the clip clop of two horses. “We’re too close to the road!” whispered Will. “We’ll be caught!”
Robin held up his hand, and just then, the team came into view. They were dappled geldings with sandy manes, probably brothers. They pulled a cart with two men at the front, and a third on a horse bringing up the rear. They wore second hand armor and were heavily armed. The cart passed, and the outlaws were out of danger. That is they were, until Johns horse snorted, and he automatically said, “Bless you.” at this, the rear horseman stopped, cocked his head and turned. With a trained eyes he scanned the woods. Robin tried to disappear into his hood, but it was too late; they had been spotted.
“Bandits!” Shouted the man. He pointed his horse directly at Robin and charged as he drew his sword. Robin had only his bow, which he had in his hands in an instant. However, John chose that moment to charge and spoiled Robin’s shot. John Had a staff; his weapon of choice. Will charged after John. Robin cursed, and followed them onto the road.
The horsed guard met John and each man swung mightily. They clashed and wheeled their horses, the man with his muscled and armored horse, John with his nag. The one horse nearly laughed at the other and actually reared up to waylay the nag. John’s nag fell under the attack and John leapt to his feet. Now the guard had the advantage of height.
Will loosed an arrow as he charged but it went wild. Now the cart had stopped and its riders kept their posts but turned to assess the situation. The guard who had been riding protector to the driver had a crossbow and leveled it at Will. He shot. The arrow hit Will’s horse in the chest and the horse reared up and fell backwards nearly on top of Will who scrambled out just in time. The guard protector began to methodically reload and the driver laughed and pulled out his own crossbow. He saw Robin and noted that he was out of range and therefore not a threat. He aimed carefully at Will.
The horseman loomed over John once again using his horse as a weapon pulling on the reigns to cause him to rear up and attempt to trample John. John sidestepped to get a better shot at the rider and instead of swinging the staff, he thrust it like a spear striking the guard in the chest and unhorsing him. The man landed on his back, but sprang to his feet surprisingly fast. He came at John with his sword raised. Now John had the advantage as his staff was longer than the sword. He swung before the guard was in range and knocked him down.
Will saw that the driver had him in his sights and he furiously scrambled for an arrow as his quiver had spilled when he was unhorsed. It was too late. He knew he was dead. Then there was a loud buzz by his ear, and at first he thought the driver had missed, but then the driver fell, and arrow in his chest. and Will turned to see Robin fitting another arrow in his bow.
The guard that John had knocked down sprang to his feet again and came at John again. They engaged with John blocking a series of lightning attacks. The guard was unhinged at the prospect of being beaten with a staff and flailed crazily at John. John kept his wits and finally saw an opening and whacked his opponent heavily in the head.
The protector had reloaded, seen his leader killed and now aimed at Robin. He fired and the arrow fell short by a few yards. Will had collected a few arrows and now loosed them one after the other at the protector. They found their mark. Will was a good shot after all.
John picked up the sword and put it in his belt. They surveyed the scene and approached the cart. “What do you suppose is in here?” asked John.
“Jewels!” said Will. “What else could it be?”
“Our taxes” said Robin grimly as he took his dagger and pried the clasp off the lid rendering the lock useless. The Chests inside were made of sturdier stuff, and John Broke one with the butt of his new sword before Will found the keys on the dead leader to open the other two.
“What do we do?” said John.
Well we are thieves and murderers now.” said Robin. “We can’t let anyone find us with this or we’ll be hanged.”
"We can't take the cart through the forest, the wheels need to be on a road; And we can't take the road or we'll be seen." said Will.
"These boxes are too heavy to carry without the cart." said John.
"We'll bury the men in the woods. We'll take apart the cart and use it for firewood. We'll take some money and bury the rest, and come back for it later. We have to get to Derby to find the hermit. We will take the horses and sell them there. Let's get going." said Robin.

Robin Hood: Outlaws of Sherwood. 4

Tom's House was unusually quiet, when Robin came to visit. Robin had decided that he would try to maintain friendships in town, and if people did not want to be seen with an outlaw, that was something he could not blame them for. So far, he had had better luck than he expected. The townspeople hated Bill and cursed him for taking their money and filling his pockets with it. The Stanhopes had fed Robin and told him how they had planned to open a tavern but now could not because the sheriff had found out about their savings and taken it on the pretence of a fine for selling ale without a permit. Villagers throughout Edwinstowe had similar stories. Robin began to form a plan for getting his land back. He did not say anything to anyone, because it was dangerous and illegal and probably treason. He would need help, and he had an idea where to start to look for it.
Tom was the last friend on his list, before heading back into the forest. He knew Audrey was ill and so was the baby, and he was loathe to put them out. A visit required an offer of a meal and pleasantries that Robin was sure Audrey was not up to, nor could Tom afford. Robin knocked at the door. Through the thin walls, he heard muffled movement, and Audrey shushing their oldest, Bridged. “It’s me Robin.” He said through the door. “I can leave and come back tomorrow if that’s better. I’ll bring you some fish if you like.” Robin mentally berated himself for not thinking to bring them something.
He heard little Henry say, “It’s Robin!” and scramble to open the door. Robin’s face lit up at the sight of little Henry. Henry’s dirty face showed the boy felt the same.
“Oh, Hank! You are a sight for these eyes!” Robin scooped the boy up in his arms. “Is your Da at home, Henry?”
“Da got hurt.” the child pointed to a dark corner of the room where Audrey, Bridged and Maggie sat over Tom who lay on a straw pallet. The breath went out of Robin as he put down Henry and went to Tom’s side. Tom had bruises all over his face; his lip swollen, his eyes both blackened and his cheeks were raw. His clothes were ragged and bloody and every inch of skin that showed through was covered with cuts, abrasions, bruises and scabs. Tom tried to force a smile for his old friend.
“Bill?” asked Robin. Tom nodded.
“They are going to take our home and kill us!” wailed Audrey who had been holding it in until now. Now she let her fears out. She needed someone to know. “They beat poor Tom just to show him they could! They had no call! He’s done no wrong!” She was sobbing uncontrollably now. Robin took her in his arms.
“Hush, now Audrey, nobodies going to hurt you or the children. Tom and I will see to that.” Robin said to be soothing.
Now Audrey became suddenly angry. “How can you make such a claim?!” She yelled. They run you off; they took your home. They will take ours too as sure as the Virgin’s in Heaven!” The children were all crying now as well, and Tom tried to sit up to reign in the situation.
Robin scooped up Henry and Bridged. “I said we’d see to it!” he said, trying not to be caught up in the emotion. “Maybe they will take your home, for now; but we will all be gone from here! Get your things. Tom, can you walk? We’re leaving right now!”
The Outlaws of Sherwood

As dusk found Sherwood Forest, the sun turned the sky orange behind the silhouetted trees, and the whole forest was in shadow. The quiet was broken by a loud call. “John!” said the voice. “Little John! Where are you?”
Finally, John came out into the clearing. “Robin! Stop your shouting!” Then he saw that Robin was carrying two children and had their parents and a baby in tow. “Blessed Mary, Mother of God!” said John, getting a good look at Tom. “What’s the meaning of this?” said John.
“Where are the rest?” said Robin.
“The rest of what?” said John.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Little John. The rest of the outlaws; where are they?”
“We are here.” said a burly man emerging into the clearing with several others. They came to stand around Robin and Tom. No one needed to ask what had happened to Tom. They had all experienced the same treatment. Men were still coming into the clearing. Robin could not believe how many. He knew there would be a lot, but he had not taken into account all the towns in Nottinghamshire, the number of years it had been going on, nor the size of the sheriff’s greed, nor the size of his evil. Robin thought, the good of the forest seems big enough to overcome the evil.
“Damn that man!” said Audrey seeing all the pain she felt in all these men’s eyes.
“They have seen us all together.” said one of them to another.
“They belong with us now.” was the reply.
“Is that true?” said the first man to the newcomers. “Will you not give us up to the sheriff? Will you swear to not give away our location? Can we trust you?”
“Aye.” Said Robin. “We are all in this together, no? The sheriff drove us out of our home once, we will not allow him to do it again!” The crowd gave a resounding “AYE!” Robin felt it was enough for now. First they would accept him. He would show them what they had. He would show them that they were an army with a common enemy.