Robin Hood: Shrove Tuesday 10

The day of the festival was the first warm day of the since Autumn. The whole shire came to St. Mary's to see each other and to participate in the final revelry until Easter. The sky was the clear blue of precious stones, and the field was festooned with ribbon of yellow and lavender. Children ran amok laughing and screaming, looking at the sweets and the feast being laid out for the revelers. There were events like a three legged race, the egg relay, ring toss, there was to be a fishing contest; games with balls, and of course, archery. There was also wrestling and other feats of strength.
The sheriff and his men made their presence known. They would brook no disturbing the peace, but there was revelry and drunkenness, and couples slipping off to be alone. Bill's real concern was to monitor how freely people spent their money. He couldn't believe his luck. He would make out better than if he had never been robbed in the first place. He would have to make this a regular practice. Roland, his main enforcer and most trusted man was participating in several events. He was wrestling, He was in the archery contest, he was in the quarterstaff games. He would win them all. There would be a sword fighting contest. The sheriff would have won that, but he decided he'd best not enter on the chance he could be bested. He knew it was ridiculous, but better to be feared as sheriff and not risk it. If he lost, people would lose the awe in which they held him. That was more precious to him than gold.
Gladys had given Marian the cloth she wanted as a gift, and insisted she make her dress and wear it to the festival. Marian had reluctantly agreed. She wore the light blue finely woven wool under her deep blue cloak trimmed with a cunning Celtic knot design of dragons in yellow stitching. Her hair was plaited up around her face, and when she put her hood down, her long bare neck held her head regally.
Tuck was collecting plenty of coin but he was also being more than generous with the wine. he himself shared many a goblet with the patrons, yet he remained sober as a, well as a churchman. He had employed Eric and Johnny to run the coins back to the church vestry where there was a strong box for safe keeping. In return, the boys got to sample some pies, some hen, and even a bit of wine.
The wrestling started first. It was a circle near the edge of the field farthest from the church. Will Skarlett fancied himself an able wrestler and so he was. He won match after match and his mates cheered him on. As the morning wore on and the lists narrowed it became clear that the man to beat was Roland. He was a giant dark haired lummox. He won through brute strength and had little skill. Will was a slight fellow and relied heavily on skill and cunning. In those days there was no weight divisions, it was one field, one champion.
Little John, as everyone now called, him was a fair wrestler, but wanted to save his strength for quarterstaves. He and Will were the best of mates by this point. Will came to Little John during while others wrestlers muddied themselves. "Any advice on how to beat that big fellow?" he said.
"He has the advantage of reach, so get in tight. He's a heavy bloke and not to quick on his feet. Take his legs out from under him and he'll drop like a stone. Use his own weight against him."
"Thanks mate! That's sage advice indeed!"
It was the last match. The winner would be the champion of the day. Each man was slick and smelly and looked forward to cooling off in the creek after the match. The judge was unknown to the lads of the greenwood, but he seemed fair enough. Will stood at one edge of the circle, backed by Robin and the lads and Roland stood across backed by his lot. Roland had a mean smile on his face. He was a cruel fighter who enjoyed causing injury. There were those who bowed out rather than face him. The judge signaled for the fight to begin, and the two circled in slowly as fighters do.
Wrestling is not a punching sport as anyone can tell you, but rules were scarce in those days and it was not unheard of. Roland decided to take advantage of his reach while he could and threw a fist the size of a brick. He had projected his punch and Will leaned out of its path. Will came in and hugged Roland close to make it hard to hit him. Then Will swung his leg behind Roland and kicked the back of his knee as hard as could, buckling Roland's leg. The big man was clearly surprised by this move and completely lost his balance falling on his butt. The crowd laughed and cheered. Will didn't waste a moment; he threw himself over Roland's shoulders, bringing him down. The judge began his count to three.
Roland wasn't really hurt though, and threw Will off of him easily. Roland was furious. He hadn't expected anyone to pin him, particularly not a twerp like this. He hated being laughed at. His father used to laugh at him when he would cry from being beaten. He came at Will with a fury. Will was up in a flash. Roland chased him until Will cut back unexpectedly and circled tightly behind Roland and kicked him behind his knees again. This time Roland only fell to his knees, so that he was about even with Will. Will got him in a headlock and the crowd roared as Roland stood up with Will on him. Will came off the ground and it looked like Roland was wearing him like a stole. Roland spun around to get Will to fall off, but he hung on like a badger. Roland lost his balance and fell again, dizzy. Again the crowd laughed; this time the dizziness added another layer of humiliation which automatically translated into rage. Will twisted his grip to try to force Roland down and slipped. Flailing, Roland grabbed Will's wrist almost by mistake and pulled him in front of him. He punched Will in the face knocking him unconscious. Still, Roland pummeled Will, even as he fell limply to the ground. The crowd was silent now. Roland forgot about everything except wreaking his anger out on Will. Robin and John rushed in. The fight was over. They weren't strong enough to stop Roland. Others joined in and finally managed to hold Roland back long enough for him to come to his senses. Still in those days, beating a man to death in a battle of strength wasn't unheard of. There were those present who thought that Roland should have been left alone to finish Will off.
Marian had been passing by and saw Robin come to Will's aid. She recognised him from the shop and wondered what part he was playing in today's events. Was he the rogue she thought. Tuck had said not to be quick to judge, but that was what clergy always said. Tuck was a good man with a big heart, but she knew Robin was some kind of scoundrel.
Next came the midday meal and some lighter games; the fishermen had caught enough for much of the crowd to enjoy, and there were stalls selling their wares and other distractions for a while. Robin saw Marian in her new dress and recognised the fabric. He smiled to himself. "Keep dreaming." said Little John. "She'll never go for an outlaw like you."
"What kind of outlaw would she go for, then?" Joked Robin, though the truth of it was like a blow to him.
"No outlaw at all, you fool!" said John.
It was time for the quarterstaff games, and once again, Roland was the man to beat. Little John was skilled and won all his matches but he had seen what Roland was like and set his task ahead of him with grim determination. Will had regained consciousness and was beat badly, but he would recover. "Get him for me John." Will said. Robin advised against looking for revenge.
"Don't be blinded by hate. You'll lose. Give him your best and that will be enough" he said.
This field was bigger. Roland seemed as fresh as ever. He had eaten and rested and no one had even landed a blow in the quarterstaff. Maybe they are afraid to make me angry again. he thought. Good. Little John was big, but Roland was bigger. Much bigger.
The two faced each other and the judge yelled: "Fight!"
Each combatant held the staff two handed so that they had two evenly weighted ends to parry and thrust with. As they sparred, John noted that Roland actually had poor posture, but hit very hard. As in wrestling, he wasn't skillful, just powerful. As in wrestling, it was usually more than enough. John knew Roland was easily angered and remembered what Robin had said.
John moved suddenly inside, thrust his staff under Roland's and pulled. Usually one hit with a forward movement. People didn't expect a backward pulling movement. In real fights, an unexpected move could really give you an advantage. The backwards blow to the staff had the result of Roland's staff coming out of his left hand, leaving his left side open. John came in and boxed Roland's ear. Hard. Roland touched his finger to his ear and it came away bloody. John could have pummeled Roland while his guard was down, but he wanted the blow to register in Roland's thought process. It did. Roland glowered at John and held the staff like a long sword swinging wildly with a ferocious swoosh! that John easily ducked. Now came John's real attack: He smiled. This infuriated Roland. The crowd wasn't laughing, but that didn't matter. Roland felt as if they were. This time John was making Roland mad on purpose.
Roland swung and missed again. He swung so hard he threw himself in a circle. That was when John came in. As Roland completed his circle, John hit him in the stomach, pirouetted for momentum and with an uppercut, knocked Roland's staff completely out of his hands. Roland did not give up as John knew he wouldn't. Roland came at John barehanded and John swung a backhand arc that landed on the side of Roland's head and knocked him out cold. John twirled the staff like a drum major and bowed. After a moment of silence the crowd cheered wildly.

Robin Hood: In Nottingham 9

News of the Shrove Tuesday carnival did not pass by the greenwood unnoticed; many of the wives took their children to church and Father Cedric was promoting this year’s festival with unusual fervor. The children especially wanted to attend. It seemed living in the woods had its attraction for children, but the prospect of sweets was hard to pass up. Holy days were considered a general amnesty for outlaws not wanted for heinous crimes. People would come from the entire shire and though the outlaws were many, they were a small percentage of the entire countryside. Tom was on the mend, and he and Robin were determined to take place in the festivities. “You could win the archery contest, hands down.” said Tom. Robin had been teaching the men of Sherwood Forest to shoot as well as make their own bows and arrows. He didn’t fancy trying to feed the whole forest. He had gained quite a reputation in the greenwood.
“Archers like me are common enough.” said Robin. “But I will be happy to give it a go.”

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Most things needed by man can be made from nature, and the people of the greenwood had little need to venture into town, save one: it was their rightful home. There was a degree of shame that came with being an outlaw. That you were outcast. With the new found pride and comradery that the people of the greenwood felt, much of the shame they had felt, dissipated, and they began to venture into the neighboring towns. Tom wanted to go into town to obtain some cloth for his wife and children to have new clothes in time for the festival. He and Robin ventured into Nottingham one cold and windy February morning. In the marketplace, there were several weavers; some with stalls, others had shops. Robin preferred the stalls, but Tom liked the shops, and as it was cold, they lingered inside examining fabrics they would never buy.
The door opened with the wind forcing its way in ahead of the woman. The lanterns flickered a bit in the breeze. The new customer lowered her hood and shook her hair. She brushed it out of her face with a hand that had long, delicate fingers. Her cloak was deep blue, and her dress underneath was a blue so pale that it was almost white. Her auburn hair was somewhat windblown, stray hairs danced in the breeze. The effect was that of an intimacy; to be seen in an unguarded moment.  Her face was flushed from the cold and the color in her cheeks resembled a nimbus. Her eyes were the blue of a cool pond reflecting the evening twilight. Robin heard music playing somewhere nearby. She met his gaze coolly and walked past him to the counter.
The proprietor was an elderly woman with her hair in a bun and a knit shawl around her shoulders. She beamed at Marian though she could barely make her out. Her vision had been waning for years and she relied mainly on instincts to substitute, and for her this worked quite well. "Good Morning, Marian!" the old lady said in a paper thin voice.
"Good Morning, Gladys." Said Marian.
Robin had been transfixed by Marian from the moment she walked into the shop. The music he heard was heard by no one else. He heard birds singing too, though it was only February. Tom walked up to Robin and whispered, "Close your mouth before something flies into it. And don't stare! Your worse than Henry."
Robin Blushed and turned to Tom to retort, but the music stopped. Confused, Robin turned back to Marian, and sure enough the music started again. a fife and a lute, and birds.
"What brings you here today, dear one?" asked Gladys of Marian. The old woman looked like a shrunken apple come to life and had a rosy complexion that came through in her personality as well.
"I will have to cancel my order for the new fabric, Gladys." said Marian.
"Whatever for?" said Gladys.
Marian bit her lip trying to decide how much to reveal to Gladys. "The money is needed for the festival." she said. "The children need it more than me."
"Posh!" said Gladys. "That fabric was made literally for you! It's deep blue, like the night, just after the last of the light has gone. Why it's your color, dear!"
"Gladys, I can't." said Marian.
"How much is it?" interrupted Robin.
"I will thank you to mind you own business!" The girl said. "This is a private conversation. Why, I don't even know you!"
"Allow me to introduce Robin of Sherwood." said Tom.
"And you are....?" asked Marian.
"This is Tom." said Robin. He looked to Gladys as if for conformation. She continued to beam at them. Robin produced some coins from his purse at his belt. "Will this be enough?" he said. "And for the orphanage." he said producing more.
Marian looked Robin up and down, taking in his ragged yeoman's clothes that had spent the winter in the forest, and she looked at the money he was offering. "You'd best be careful with your purse, sir. There's thieves about."
"Is there?" asked Robin.
"Aye. They live in the forest."
"We'll keep an eye out Ma'am." said Tom.
"It's Miss"
"Miss?" said Robin. "Miss what?"
"Miss me every time." said Marian.
"We should be going." said Tom, who thought it was a bit early for spring. He pulled Robin by his arm.
"Wait." Robin said. "Here, Miss. Miss Marian. Take it. Give it all to the orphanage if you won't take it for yourself."
"Give it to them yourself, Sir" said Marian and turned back to Gladys.
"Let's Go." said Tom. "It's a bit stuffy in here."
"But..." protested Robin. Tom pulled him outside. "But she's beautiful!" said Robin.
"Aye." said Tom. "She's trouble, that one."
Back inside the shop, Gladys said, "Oh, he seems nice."
"Gladys, your blind as a table leg. He was a vagabond."
"Even a blind table leg knows it can't hold the table up by itself." said Gladys.

"Where should we go now?" asked Tom.
"Why, to the orphanage, where else?"

St Anne's Orphanage was a series of wattle and daub  buildings on the outskirts of the property of St. Mary's Church. It was run by the monks and nuns who also maintained quarters elsewhere on the vast acreage of St Mary's. St Mary's had been around since before the Normans, and it was rather large for a church in the midlands. Whereas in neighboring Derbyshire there were churches in each village within the shire, St Mary's was the main church for the county. To be sure, there were churches in each village in Nottingham, they looked to St Mary's for festivals, holidays and large gatherings. The monks had elected Cedric to the position of Vicar since the death of the previous vicar nearly ten years past.
There was a boys dormitory on one side and a girls on the other. The office, school, and cafeteria were in the middle. The entrance to the grounds on the south side led to the office, and at the other end past the cafeteria was a garden. beyond that was a field for games. Beyond the field at the north end was the greenwood. Sherwood Forest proper was in the north of the county, but the primeval woods of which it was a part extended throughout the county (and indeed throughout the midlands). The greenwood was a term that referred to the whole area of wilderness.
The path leading to the office had a lawn on either side and was officially off limits to the children. Presently, two boys were running around on the lawn, chasing each other. The one being chased was taller, had a shock of red hair and was named John. The chaser was a runt. A little blond boy who made up in ferocity what he lacked in stature. His name was Eric. After some valiant zigging and zagging, there was an "oof!" followed by a thud and some rolling about. After a moment the boys got up, laughing and covered in the dead grass of winter. Eric looked up and stopped laughing and John looked up to see what had caused the suspension of antics and stopped laughing too. There were two specters of men standing there looking at them, older versions of themselves.
"Well don't stop on our account." said Robin. "We were just looking for the office." The taller boy shook his head as if such information was not to be given out, while Eric pointed to the obvious building that the path the men were on led to. Johnny cuffed Eric on the shoulder and shot him a look. Eric cuffed Johnny back and it was back to rolling on the lawn.
Inside the office, there was a rotund young tonsured monk sitting at a desk, making every effort to fill in a ledger. At the sound of the two men coming in he endeavored to finish his entry lest he have to start again. When he looked up, he saw Robin and Tom waiting patiently, their hoods down and smiles on their faces. He returned the smile.
"What can I do for you fine gentlemen?" he asked.
"We would like to make a donation." said Robin.
"We understand the orphanage is in need." said Tom.
"A recent robbery." said Robin.
At this the monk's smile faded, which is not what you would expect from an offer of a donation. "There has been no robbery." said the monk. "I didn't get your good gentlemen's names."
"This is Robin, and my name is Tom. We didn't mean any disrespect. If you don't need the money, we'll be on our way."
"Maybe that would be for the best." said the monk and returned to his ledger which, if you could read it, would say that any donation would be greatly appreciated.
"Wait." said Robin. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot."
The monk looked up and regarded the men for a moment. "Where did you hear we had been robbed?"
"A young lady. Miss Marian." said Robin watching for and seeing recognition in the monk's eyes.
"Shut that door." said the monk. He himself locked the door behind him after checking that there was no one behind it. "Marian told you we had been robbed? How do know Marian? When did she tell you that?"
"We were in the dress shop..." started Tom. and the monks eyebrows went up.
"His wife needs a new dress. We were shopping for cloth" said Robin. "And in comes this vision."
"Marian." said Tom.
"At Gladys'." said the monk.
"Right." said Tom.
"And she says she has to cancel her order, because the orphanage needs it." said Robin.
"Because we had been robbed?" asked the monk.
"No." said Robin. "I offered to pay, and she said to be careful of robbers."
"She was implying that WE are robbers, Robin. Can you blame her? Look at us." said Tom.
"Why didn't you say that before?" said Robin.
"I thought it was obvious." said Tom.
"Because we have money? And look like this?" Robin was getting angry. There's nothing like a time released insult to get to you.
"So you're not robbers?" said the monk.
"What? No!"
"How is it then, that you look like that, and yet have money to give away?"
"I didn't get Your name?" said Robin.
"Tuck. Friar Tuck; at your service." Tuck smiled. "So, you're not robbers then?"
"You know, I wasn't really there." said Tom. "Let's hear it again."
"Tom! I was on an errand for your Maggie!"
"And I am grateful." said Tom.
"This wouldn't have anything to do with the sheriff's taxes, would it? And certain Parishioners having a few extra coppers come Sundays lately? Would it?"
The two stopped and looked at Tuck with eyes that were impressed when they saw a bulls eye. There was a bit more checking that there was no one listening at the doors and then Tuck poured them all a glass of wine.
It was getting dark when the three men emerged from the office. Tuck had sent to the cafeteria for lunch. “Well, what’s to be done?” said Tuck. “We will just have to raise more money.”
“Or...” said Robin. There will have to be another robbery. This time on purpose.”