Robin Hood: Trouble comes knocking 30

Marian was right about one thing: Robin did love disguises. While Marian was taking a short nap before her dinner with Father Cedric, Robin was meeting Tuck at the Lying Hart tavern. The name was a play on the name of King Richard the Lion Heart, King John's deceased brother and predecessor. It was also a pun as a “hart” is a male deer, as well as a homonym for the internal organ considered the house of human courage. Nearby Sherwood Forest was famous for its plentiful venison, which was the private property of King John. Robin was dressed as a traveling monk, wearing a black monk’s robe with the hood up to hide his infamous features. Tuck (who, as you will recall was actually a monk) was dressed in his disguise as a bearded merchant. He was posing as his own estranged brother who had come to visit only to find his brother, Brother Tuck, on the lam and took up his position. He told everyone to call him James. He had also lost weight while away from the regular meals and desk work of St. Anne’s. Everyone he met said that they could see the resemblance.
When Robin heard of Marian’s dinner date, he became agitated. He wanted to intervene, but could see no way of doing so with giving themselves away. Though he couldn’t storm the rectory, Robin felt he would be remiss in his part as a traveling monk not to pay a visit to St. Mary’s to pray to the statue of the Virgin for guidance. This way, he would be close at hand if anything were to go awry and he could spring to Marian’s aid. Of course he would have to be doubly careful not to be found out, or he would be putting Marian in more jeopardy just by being there.
Robin made his way to St Mary's at dusk. The sun had just set, and the sky began to take on a rich, luminous, deep blue towards the East and fades to an almost colorless white on the opposite horizon. The old Norman structure of the church dominating the skyline with a stark silhouette. A cool breeze played across Robin’s face as he looked up at the facade of the church he had known since his childhood. How much longer would he have to be a fugitive in his hometown? It was with genuine humility Robin entered the church through the Narthex. He chose a pew at the back of the nave and knelt to pray. The church was empty except for Robin himself. He felt the silence as a physical presence. It filled his ears with an otherworldly sense of calling. He remembered his dream of Mary in the hermit’s cave. The dream had metamorphosed from being Mary to Marian; the name itself a derivation of Mary. The Virgin Mary was now the Maid Marian. Had that been the case all along? It was impossible. He had not even met Marian when he’d had the dream. What had been the rest of it? He had been chased by the sheriff. The crowd had simultaneously tried to help him even as it held him back. Why did the sheriff relentlessly try to destroy the orphanage and even the people of the shire? Robin had thought it was just bald greed. He had thought the sheriff was the embodiment of evil, but then there had been that encounter with the Earl of Lincoln. He had seemed more the devil than any man Robin had ever met: amiable yet exuding a malice which he seemed to relish. That the sheriff had chosen to side with Robin over the Earl was a mystery that Robin could not fathom. Were they rivals?
What was Robin to do? He was not content to spend the rest of his life in the forest. The people were rallying to Robin, but how could he utilize them? He couldn’t just declare war on the sheriff and march on Nottingham. He needed a plan, some way to bring the fight to the sheriff before the sheriff brought an army to burn him out of Sherwood.
The old vicarage of St. Mary’s was located behind a small grove of oak trees that stood between it and the back of the church. Cedric had the monks to keep the place clean and in good repair and could call on them to act as servants whenever there were guests, though when he ate alone he usually prepared his own meals, and cleaned up after himself on a day to day basis. This afternoon, he had had a goose prepared and gone quite out of his way to see that a sumptuous feast consisting of a salad with fresh greens, boiled quail eggs,  and steamed vegetables, followed by eel and fish soup, sausages with fennel and rosemary, then the goose, with a dessert of blackberry pie and clotted cream. Cedric only served visiting officials from Rome or Canterbury meals like this. Though he never dined this way himself, he wanted to give his guest the impression that he could provide any luxury. The monks had given him odd looks, but knew better than to question the expense. Cedric had always demanded to obeyed in his orders, but had grown especially self important since the sheriff had deputized him. Evensong had barely finished (Cedric had given the task of officiating to yet another monk as he wanted to oversee the preparations) When there was a knock on the door. Cedric, dressed in his finest frock, answered the door himself and was quite surprised to see Sir Guy of Gisborne, Mayor of Nottingham and his wife, Greta.
“Are we late?” Greta said ridiculously, as the bells of evensong had only just finished peeling. “Where is this new teacher everyone is talking about?” Sir Guy handed Cedric his coat as if Cedric were a common servant and the two strode in and held out their hands until one of the monks placed goblets of wine in them. Cedric was about to demand who on Earth had invited the Gisbornes, but he never got the chance to, because there came a knocking on the door again. Having no doubt that this time it had to be Hilde. He opened the door with a big smile which was returned by Richard Whitehand and his wife Margaret. The Whitehands were part of the gentry of Nottingham and traveled in the company of the Gisbornes and the sheriff. They traipsed in, adding their coats to the growing stack in Cedric’s arms, and joined the Gisbornes, picking up a conversation that had been ongoing. Quite angry now, Cedric said to no one in particullar, “What in the devil is the meaning of this?” His guests looked at him, and then at each other, and then back at him. Richard’s face brightened and he said, “Ah, the sheriff! Sorry old chap, I’m afraid the sheriff couldn’t come tonight, he is in the midst of planning something quite important and rather large scale, I must say. He sends his regards though; says carry on without him and all that.” Cedric did not like being called “old chap” as he felt it was some kind of slang for “chaplain”. There was another knock at the door, and completely at his wit’s end, and barely able to open the door for all the coats he was holding, he swung the door open, screaming as he did so; “What is it now for God’s sake?” only to find that it was, of course Hilde, looking a bit flushed and taken aback for being yelled at. “Hilde!” Cedric cried, dropping the coats summarily on the floor to the side of the door so he could greet Hilde with open arms. “Come in! Come in! Welcome! I am so glad you could make it!”
“Ja, well you said you wouldn’t take no for the answer.” she said, wishing she had said no.

Robin Hood: Marian Has a Date For Dinner 29

"Ja, I am Hilde the math teacher. I am from, uh, Derby. Ja Derby is vere I am from, und I have come to be a substitution teacher for the children." Cedric mistook Marian's blushing for shyness. She wished she were better at dissembling.
"Well, I suppose I should let you take over so I  can get back to St. Mary's. Perhaps you will join me in the rectory for dinner this evening to welcome you to Nottingham? Now, I won't take no for an answer. We English Vicars are used to being obeyed. In everything... heh, heh. Just a joke, really. See you after evensong, then? Good. Well, I'll leave the little vermin in your capable hands, then. Be stern with them. Don't spare the rod and all that. You can bet I haven't."
Marian was mortified. She was just getting ready to be relieved that she had gotten through that short introduction without being detected, and now she would have to sit through dinner with the despicable cleric. Her proud warrior heritage seemed to have abandoned her, laughing as it went. She had so been looking forward to seeing the children and catching up with them, and now that they were here, safe in front of her, she could barely acknowledge their presence. She took a deep breath. She looked up at the children. They seemed to regard her with the same open mouthed neck craning curiosity one might look upon an owl attacking a small rodent. Years of caring for her small charges kicked in. “Well, shut your traps, have you never seen a priest invite a lady to dine before?”
“Marian?” said a young, blonde girl in pigtails herself seated in the third row.
“It is her! I told you she’d come back!” agreed another.
“Marian! Marian!” rose the chorus of children so that children from the neighboring classrooms and the yard outside overheard and began flooding into the small classroom.
“Well, do you children not see that I am in disguise? Do you want the sheriff to come here and arrest me? Then you had better learn to keep quiet and not tell anyone!” This was why she had risked everything to come back. This is why she knew that she had done the right thing. these children needed her. What’s more she needed them. She had been lost without them.
“Tell me,” she said, once she had quieted them down. “What has gone on since I’ve been gone?”
The children spent the rest of the day telling Marian how the sheriff had levied a special tax on St Anne's and arrived with armed guards to receive payment in person. Since then, the meals had been reduced to just a small bowl of gruel in the  morning, and a thin broth accompanied by stale bread in the evening. Theirs clothes were more threadbare than usual and some of the teachers had left to go work in the fields in order to better sustain their families and avoid the obvious persecutory wrath of the sheriff. Many of the children had become sick due to the nutrition and care that had been withheld from them. There was little to be done as the supplies in the infirmary had run nearly out. There had been a garden in which Marian personally grew medicinal herbs for the sick children, but Father Cecil had had the entire garden pulled and burned on the grounds that herbology was a form of witchcraft, and had threatened to ad that to the list of crimes Marian was wanted for. Marian could have shown him St. Hildegard’s own writing on the subject, but the Benedictine Nun & saint would probably not have been able to persuade Father Cecil to spare the herbs, were she there in person. Most of the medicinal plants grew in the greenwood, and Marian had planted them in the garden for the sake of convenience, so even though the herb garden was gone, the plants were still relatively close at hand.
Even so, Marian’s blood boiled with anger at the way these two men treated the children as if they were themselves weeds to be pulled and thrown into the fire. It wasn’t just neglect, ignorance, greed and vice fuelling the persecution of the children, it was a prejudicial bias against them. The sheriff and Father Cecil believed that orphans should be drowned like feral kittens. The two men resented the community’s effort to provide a decent upbringing for the unwanted, parentless offspring, whom they viewed as liable to grow up to be beggars or outlaws. Marian and Tuck were doing their level best to make sure that didn’t happen. By educating the children and providing a nurturing environment, they hoped the children could overcome the strike fate had dealt them and become productive members of the shire. Marian felt that the actions of the sheriff and Father Cecil would guarantee that their predictions as to the fate of the orphans would bare out. By treating them as unwanted and less than deserving, the children would internalize these attitudes and become the villains they were expected to become.
After class, as Marian told Tuck about the testimony of the children, she got so wound up that she nearly flew into a rage. There was no way, she swore, that she could have dinner with Father Cecil without killing him! Tuck tried too calm her down, to warn her that she would give them both away if she behaved at all like Marian. He gave her a glass of strong wine to sooth her nerves. She downed it so fast that even Tuck was taken aback.
He had, of course, learned about the tax, but the tale of the herbs was news to him. The only way that he could get Marian to go through with the dinner was to tell her to act as their spy. Perhaps she could find out something useful about the sheriff’s plans. Something that the sheriff would rather Robin and his friends not find out. Perhaps something concerning the sheriff’s plans for Robin and his friends. Marian held out her glass for a refill. Robin loved this kind of thing. This whole disguise idea had been his. He could be so annoying. Why didn’t he wear his hair in braids and flirt with Father Cecil? Then he would see! Actually, he would probably love it. He was such a rogue! She remembered the first time she had laid eyes on him. He had been in the dress shop when she’d arrived and looked like a beggar. Then he had produced the coins and offered to pay for her dress. She had known right then that he was trouble! Now look at her! She was going to have dinner with the man who had imprisoned her (for having one of those damn coins!), dressed like an invading Viking woman and she was expected to spy? Well, she would show them! She would do it! She would pry secrets out of Cecil that he didn’t even know he had. He would promise to find out the things he didn’t know. She would have him eating out of her hand! But first she had to lie down; she felt quite dizzy.