Category: folk tales

So read the sign posted all over the shire, in every town; in the centres, in the taverns, at the inns, and anywhere the deputies of Nottinghamshire could think to post them. It didn’t matter that most folk could not read, word spread fast enough, and soon it was all any one could talk about. There had never been a reward for so much money in any one’s memory. It was said that Sherwood Forest was so thick with thieves that you could walk ten feet into it without running into a band of them. There were a group of brave souls ready to band together and brave the forest every night at every tavern. Every morning none of them showed up for duty.
It didn’t take long for a pigeon to reach Robin from Friar Tuck, and by then there was already talk throughout the forest. The fear was that they would be betrayed by someone within the forest. It was not an unfounded fear. There were plenty of outlaws in the forest who didn’t associate with Sherwood Village. The sign did not specify a crime (as the money stolen from the sheriff was itself ill gotten goods) so any outlaw would do. The general agreement among the citizens of Sherwood Village was that there was little that could be done until some sort of tangible threat materialized.

The Monday following the Mass in which Marian had donated her marked coin, Cedric sent for her. Marian assumed the summons had something to do with Father Cedric’s spat over the Taliesin poem. She could not for the life of her understand what had gotten into the Vicar of St. Mary’s. He had never been chummy with her, but he had previously always been civil and congenial.
Upon entering Cedric’s office, she noted the smug demeanor he had about him. Where had she seen such an expression before? It was so familiar. It wasn’t Father Cedric she had seen wearing that sneer. It was just out of touch of her memory.
“Is this about the Battle of the Trees?” she asked him when they had finished the pleasantries of wishing each other good morrow and commenting on the lovely weather.
“What? Oh, Taliesin? I had quite forgotten about that I assure you. No. I have asked you here today to discuss another matter entirely. I was wondering perchance if you recognize this.” he said, producing the quarter penny with a flourish.
“Yes, of course. It is a farthing. Surely you knew that, Father. What is it that is on your mind, today?”
“This particular farthing was put into the basket at Mass yesterday, by you. Do you not remember?” said the priest.
“Father, a farthing is really all I can afford to give. I am a woman of limited means. perhaps after Easter I can afford more, but I doubt it? Are you calling parishioners in one at a time to try to get more money from them?”
“Don’t be daft, child. So, you admit then that this is the farthing you put into the basket not more than a day ago?”
“That exact coin? I couldn’t swear to it, no. Why do you ask? What has gotten into you of late? It is as if you have an entirely different agenda you are pursuing and not quite the wit to know how.”
“That will be enough of your sass, girl. I am a priest after all. And a deputy of the sheriff’s. I saw you put this coin into the basket yesterday with my own eyes. Do you deny it?”
Marian was taken aback. A deputy of the sheriff’s? Father Cedric? She did remember hearing he had taken over for the sheriff when he had gone away after Shrove Tuesday. Her stomach lurched and everything momentarily slowed down like it did when you slip and fall and can’t stop yourself, or in a bad dream. Sound slowed, she felt her face heat up as it flushed with blood. There was a moment in between heart beats that seemed to take longer than usual. Then her heart thudded in her chest and everything sped up back to normal, except that heart which now began to race. In that moment, she realized where she had seen that smug sneer. On the sheriff. The image of the wanted poster flashed in her mind and she didn’t know how she knew, but she knew without any doubt that this was related to that.
“What is it you are trying to say, Father.” she said.
“I think you know. Your face flushed and then drained completely of color. This coin is from the money that was stolen on the night of Shrove Tuesday!”
Marian had tried to protest. She didn’t know there had been a robbery on Shrove Tuesday. That was actually true. But she began to realize with clarity that there had been. The money that the sheriff had taken to cover his losses from the theft of his tax money had also been stolen. That was why there were wanted posters with such a high reward. And somehow, Father Cedric had gotten it into his head, that she was involved. That was why he had been snooping around the orphanage asking those ridiculous questions. Why did he think she was involved? She had no time to think further.
“Father Cedric?” said a monk, popping his head into the vicars office. “The sheriff has arrived as you requested. He demands to see you immediately.”
“Splendid. Show him in.”

Dawn found Sherwood Village in high spirits. The village cat, named “Lucky” was snoozing on his new bed which consisted of a fairly new white linen sheet. He did not know Why he had been given such a luxurious bed any more than why he had been thrown into the middle of those horsemen the night before, but he was enjoying his new status as hero. It had been Robin’s idea to use the sheet with a lantern behind it high in the trees, but it had been Wulfhere who had insisted that the sheriff’s men be sufficiently frightened before hand to make sure the men from Nottingham didn’t see through the cheap illusion as any mature thinking man would have. Most folks were superstitious as it was, thinking the forest was haunted, believing cats were the devils familiar and so on. No one would admit to throwing the cat from the tree heights, but Lucky was especially wary of Will Skarlett this morning, so Robin had his suspicions and made sure the cat was treated with deference. It seemed fitting that the ghost sheet should be given to the cat as a reward.
“They will be back now that’s it’s daylight. Probably with greater numbers.” said Tom.
“Aye.” agreed Robin. “I wonder what tipped them off.”
“They found something.” said John. “It’s a good thing Tuck decided to keep in contact with us through those birds of his.”
“Well we will be ready for Bill Brewer.” said Will Skartlett. “We can surprise him, and be rid of him once and for all.” There were many grunts of assent, but Robin was glad to note, the call wasn’t taken up in a mindless chant.
“We need not resort to murder immediately.” Robin said. “If the king’s appointed sheriff is killed by a band of outlaws in Sherwood forest, the king will send a host after us. I for one would like to live to see the day when I can walk into town a free man.”
“That day will not be soon.” said Wulfhere. “You will have to walk the path of the outlaw to get into town as a freeman.” The old hermit loved to talk in riddles. He called them koans.
“We shall disappear into the forest, then.” declared Robin. “Let him continue to chase ghosts for a time. We shall take the fight to him!” This was a theme Robin had promoted before. “If we let him find us here, then we shall have no peace. Nowhere to retreat to. We shall continue to harry him. We shall retrieve what he has taken from us and return it to the people of Nottinghamshire. That will put us in their good graces, and when the time comes, we shall have their support.”
“We buy them off?” questioned Will.
“No. I don’t see it that way. We are giving them what was taken from them. We are not buying them. It is what we have been doing all ready. I want to rile the sheriff. I want him to rue the day he put us out of our homes. He is the criminal! Not us! Yet he lives in his castle and we live in the trees! He is the thief! We are hunted? A pox on that! Let us hunt him!” Now the chanting started.
While the sheriff had been away to see to his men at the monastery, Father Cedric had been left to see to his office. Cedric had been a ward of the Church since he was a small boy. Growing up, he had no choice but to take his vows. In those days the Church was in many ways more powerful than any kingdom. All of Europe was under Papal command. If a King did not yield to the Church, the pope could have him excommunicated, a fate worse than death; as it meant eternal damnation. It also meant the forfeiture of any standing in what was known as Christendom. This was the entire civilized world. It may be that China had invented paper making, that Arabia had many advanced sciences, and Africa held untold treasure: as their people were not Christian, they were considered by the Christians themselves as barbarians. The pope was considered infallible, and to have a direct conduit to God Himself. No king had rein over such large territory, or such unquestionable power.
Cedric had never had much political ambition. He had come to be vicar of St. Mary’s almost through default. He was easily intimidated and although not a willing lackey of the sheriff’s, he had not the courage to stand up to him. In his twisted retrospect, he saw this as loyalty, and his appointment as deputy as his reward for said loyalty. He had faithfully discharged his duties as vicar (except for his ceding to the sheriff’s greed in the case of St. Anne’s orphanage), and had no doubt that he was up to the task of deputy sheriff. There had been a few cases of drunken disorderliness, and he had had a few lackeys of the sheriff’s to take them to the stockade to sleep it off. Since the sheriff had returned, he had begun scheming to retain his double office of vicar of St. Mary’s and deputy sheriff of Nottinghamshire. The idea fed his ego and also (he felt) absolved him of choosing easy loyalty to the sheriff over awkward disagreements over insignificant irregularities regarding money due the orphanage.
To this end, he naturally began to see the orphanage as a belligerent demanding too much of the people’s money, that rightly belonged to the king’s man the sheriff to use as he saw fit for the good of the shire. He likewise began to see the orphanage’s representatives as personifications of said belligerent, mewing and scraping for their “fair share.” Whereas he had previously got on rather well with Tuck and Marian, he began to suspect them of suspecting him. When it became apparent that the money that the sheriff had stolen had been stolen, he immediately began to suspect the pair of collusion, calumny, conspiracy, capers and crime. How could he implicate them? How could they be ensnared by the web of the law by their own deceptions. He would approach the sheriff for advice, but for two small details: one, the sheriff was sure to take credit for the idea unless Cedric implemented and executed the plan himself, and b: the sheriff was a truly unpleasant person around which to be. If he did not think the idea worth taking credit for himself he would ridicule Cedric and quite possibly strip him of his deputization. Cedric suspected he had been sparred such a stripping only as an oversight on the sheriff’s part.
It was with these thoughts in mind, that Father Cedric decided to pay a visit to St Anne’s. It was, after all, part of his parish and part of St. Mary’s though it had always been run independently. Spring really had finally come to Nottingham: the oaks were in bloom, the grass was green on the hills, the birds had returned and were courting. Deer could be seen venturing about. On his approach to St Anne’s, Father Cedric heard the cacophony of children run amok. Had they no studies? Were there no chores to be done? Surely running around like crazed lunatics on a fine spring morning such as this was not what the Good Lord had intended for young children. He came across Marian as he entered the yard only to find her leading a group of the wayward waifs in a dancing circle as they chased each other, tiny hands interlocked, singing some ridiculous song.
“Good God; Marian, have you gone mad? What on Earth are you doing?” Cedric said with his hands on his hips. To his consternation, Marian gave him a wide laughing smile by way of greeting.
“Why, we are playing ‘The Battle of the Trees’, of course!” she said. “Do you not recognize the verses?” She flew by carried by the children whirling  in their circle as they sang:
“I was in many forms
before I was set free
I was a narrow blood-spotted sword
I believe, when I was formed
I was teardrops in the air
I was a star-woven star
I was the truth of a letter
I was the tale of origins
I was illuminated lanterns
         for a year and a half
I was a bridge that spanned
         three-score estuaries”
Cedric knew Taliesin’s writing’s well. He loved them. There were many that were Christian specific. This one mentioned Jesus somewhere in there.
“Can you not teach them hymns or prayers or something worthy of the Mother of the Mother of Our Blessed Lord and savior?” is what he said.
“Father! The children learn hymns and prayers all day! Would you have them not learn some poetry by the great Taliesin as well? Is math also too secular for St Anne’s? How will they count on their rosaries? Really, Father; I don’t know what’s gotten into you!”
“Watch your tongue, Lass; there’s no need for such impertinence! The church pays for the schooling of these young wretches, it is not for you to gainsay, me!” Cedric had become quite red in the face.
Marian was never one to meekly think a woman’s place was to be silent. “The pittance we get from the church goes to bare necessities; whereas the bulk of funding comes from donations from the good people of the shire, who it may be said, are lucky if they have anything at the end of the day after tithing church and crown! Don’t try to bully me, Father; I work here long hours for no pay whatsoever and I’ll not have you come visit as your leisure and criticize the hard work I do!”
When Tuck saw them on his way back to his office from the privy, it looked as though they might come to blows. He strode across the yard and broke up the throng of children who had stopped to watch thereby augmenting their education with this lesson in applied debate. “What is all this shouting?” said Tuck. “Marian that is no way to talk to a man of the cloth! And Father Cedric, what has gotten into you? You know better than to talk to a lady in such a tone and particularly Marian! Not because she’s nobility or anything, but because she’s, well, because she’s Marian, for God’s sake!”
“Tuck! You are under my authority! I am the Vicar of St. Mary’s! Don’t think to use that tone with me, nor command me at your whim!”
“Friar Tuck! You should have heard what your fellow churchman was just saying to me! You should find out what the facts are before you go yelling at me to show respect for this great toad!”
“ENOUGH!!” shouted Tuck. “We are the adults here, and we are supposed to be setting an example for these children.” No one had ever heard Tuck yell before and that had been enough to get their attention. “Now I’m sure if we all just take a breath, we can come to our senses and address each other in a civilized fashion. This is not the Dark ages after all. We are modern people living in the time of Good King John and not barbarians. Now, I assume you came to visit us for a reason, Father Cedric?”
“Indeed. I understand there have been some financial troubles lately, and I thought if I could have a look at your books, we might be able to come to some sort of arrangement with St. Mary’s about some extra money.”
This was actually very clever on Father Cedric’s part. Although both he and Tuck knew that the sheriff had taken the money from the shrove tuesday festival, neither Marian nor anyone else should be privy to this information. No one should know that the sheriff had been robbed of the money he had taken from the orphanage, unless they were involved in the robbery. Either way, the orphanage itself should be nearly destitute without the money it had been counting on from the festival.
“Why father Cedric, that is most kind of you. I would be most happy to show you our books. If you would just come this way.” What Cedric did not know was that Tuck had overheard Cedric and the sheriff plotting to take the money, and so he knew that he was the sheriff’s man. Cedric had only told Tuck of the sheriff’s intentions as the sheriff prepared to take the money the night of the festival. Tuck was counting on the fact that every time he walked 10 feet from his desk, he was interrupted multiple times. He often had to stop what he was doing to take care of something more immediate. Then he could complete the last task that had interrupted the task before that and so on sometimes 10 tasks deep. It was like a clerk he had once worked with that put a folio inside of a folio so that if you were working front to back you had to go through all the folio inside of each other before you could return to the contents of the original folio and complete it. Today however seemed to be an exception. It was a miracle. There were no fights to diffuse, no injuries to see to, no stores to replenish, no sudden illnesses. Tuck had never had such a peaceful walk to his office at his entire time at St. Anne’s.
As they walked into Tuck’s office, the sun raked its golden light in through the northern window that provided the daylight necessary for the clerical work that took up most of Tuck’s day. Tuck kept his records on scraped bark as parchment and vellum were too expensive for the amount of records he needed to keep. The bark was from various local trees which was shorn from the tree with a knife and then the rough outside part was scraped off revealing a relatively thin, cheap and easily obtainable writing surface. They were then placed in cloth folio covers to separate various subjects. He kept these in flat topped chests which he stacked up against the walls of his office. Tuck pulled the uppermost box down from the stack and began pulling out the cloth folios. Cedric seemed undaunted by the extensive amount of records to sort through. Tuck felt they were playing a game to see who would dissemble first. He had seen the records of St Mary’s. They were all on vellum or parchment, meticulous and neat, without corrections or notes in the margin. In Tuck’s opinion they were entirely fabricated and couldn’t possibly reflect the day to day recordkeeping necessary for the running of a large institution that needed supplies, had a varying income and expenditures, and needed constant updating and amending. Where the actual records were and why they needed to have a false stand in was not something Tuck began to wonder until now. Now he could see how handy a second set of books could be.
He opened one of the folios and rummaged through its contents, pretending to be unfamiliar with his filing system. Cedric had often thought Tuck was sloppy and unorganized, so had no problem believing the charade Tuck was engaged in. Tuck found the records for the previous year, and presented them to Cedric as if they were this year’s.
Cedric spent some time getting his bearings with the document. He looked at it with consternation. “This shows that there was an income of 12,000 lbs from Shrove Tuesday’s festival.” Cedric said, bewildered.
“Is that not correct?” said Tuck, innocently.
“I’m here to help you to find a way to make up for the shortfall from this year’s festival, remember! You dolt! These are last year’s records!”
“What? Are you sure? Let me see.” He took the sheet from Cedric who began to leaf through the others that Tuck had strewn about. The current records did indeed record the shortfall, but they also showed an unprecedented number of donations immediately following the festival, that would lead Cedric to conclude there was something funny going on somewhere.
Just then a nun burst into the office, perhaps it was Bridgitt. It was hard to tell with only their face showing under the strict Benedictine habit. “There’s an emergency in the kitchen!” she said. “There’s a fire!”
Finally! thought Tuck. The three of them rushed out and made their way to the other end of the campus where the kitchen was. When they got there, the fire was out. There was a black smoke stain above the hearth. “What happened here” Tuck demanded.
“Some goose fat boiled over into the hearth fire.”  Said the cook, unperturbed. He was chopping vegetables for the stew that would be dinner for the orphanage.
“Well, I am very busy!” Tuck said. “I can’t be called every time some goose fat boils over! Wait. There’s goose?” he went over to the kettle and stirred with a ladle and took a sip. “Father, you should stay for dinner! This is quite good!” The vicar had an actual roast goose that he and the sheriff and a few of the other deputies would be dining on this evening. He had no need to eat a stew that had some leftover carcass in it that passed for goose around here.
“Thank you, Friar, but alas I have plans for this evening. Please have the documents I requested delivered to me no later than tomorrow. I am a busy man. Please try to keep your orphanage from burning down, I would hate to see these young children come to any harm.” With that, the vicar of St. Mary’s to his leave.
“What was that all about?” said the cook.
“Apparently, the good Father has taken up fishing.” said Tuck.

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.

The bulk of the residents of the greenwood were concentrated in an area they called Sherwood village. They had sentries posted around the clock and every able bodied man had to take his turn. Robin kept Wulf company one afternoon as the hermit took his watch. Robin found the man gave sage advice even if it could be hard to decipher. The days were growing progressively longer and warmer, and slowly signs of spring were beginning to show. On this particular morning, the golden sun came in at a steep angle and there was enough mist to cast beams through the filtered branches. The two men sat in the crook of branches overlooking the south end of the forest. As Nottingham lay that way, it was considered the most important watch, but there were towns in all directions and trouble could come from anywhere. Mostly people kept clear of the forest as it was rumored to be haunted and brimming with dangerous outlaws. It was also the kings private hunting ground, but all of England was the kings private hunting ground, so at that time little regard was given to that tidbit. King John had never visited and neither had his brother Richard before him. Nevertheless, people wandered through from time to time, and a call was sent out in time for the villagers to disappear into the forest like the ghosts they were feared to be.
So far, all was quiet on this tranquil morning and Robin and Wulfhere were engaged in a philosophical discussion. Wulfhere was impressed with Robin’s facile grasp of abstract ideas. Robin could read and write thanks to his father who had learned in the army, but otherwise he had no formal education. Such was reserved for nobility, and in fact Robin’s father had only learned because his commander had wanted a learned companion to converse with. For his part, Robin wondered how a lifelong forest dweller like Wulfhere had gotten an education.
“Don’t be so quick to judge a person by his appearance, Robin.” said the hermit. “In the East, all the learned men retire to the forest to seek union with the Creator.”
“You mean they go there to die?” said Robin.
“Not at all. They go there to live. They believe that is the ultimate purpose in life. You see we as people believe we are separate from everything else, but the holy men of the East believe that we are all connected.”
“What do you mean, physically? I can see that we are connected by deed. I interact with you and those actions affect everyone here. We go to the festival and our actions there affect all the shire, including the boys in the orphanage and the sheriff. Is that what you mean?”
“That is very perceptive, yes that’s part of it, but it is more than that. We believe that we are suits of armor.”
“What?”
“We believe that we are these casings of flesh we walk around in. It is the same as if a knight were to believe that he was the suit of armor. Do you see?”
“You are saying that I am not my body?”
“That’s right. Your eyes tell you “this is what you see.” Your ears tell you “This is what you hear” Your skin tells you “This is what you feel” You think the things you see and hear and feel are outside of you; that you end at your skin. Your mind tells you everything outside of your skin is separate from you and that you are not connected to it.”
“Well that is true.” said Robin. “I am separate from you. This tree is separate from us. That’s what separate means.”
“But what about air?” said Wulfhere. We need it to breath. We all know that. We can’t spend too much time in the water or we will drown. At what point does the outside air we breath in become part of us? When does the air we breath out become separate from us?
“You are bigger than just you. Did you hear the crowd chanting your name? Do you see the way everyone hear defers to you? You did not make this happen on purpose. You are part of something bigger. You have taken back the people’s money from the thief who stole it from them twice now. Are you going to let it go at that? Are you going to live in the forest for the rest of your life? There are over a hundred men in this village that would follow your commands. They have sworn loyalty to you in their hearts, they would be honored to swear that loyalty to you out loud. The people of the shire are becoming aware of you as well. Soon the sheriff will know it was not his idiot henchmen who stole from him. Will you continue to hide? How will you use what you are given? You are an exceptional man Robin, now Robin Hood. That is why I came here to live among you.” With that, the old man adjusted his position in the tree, closed his eyes and began to snore almost immediately. Robin finished the old man’s watch for him. He had a lot to think about.

?⚔️?️

The sheriff had spent hours questioning his men. He was convinced that none of them had anything to do with the stolen money. For a while he became absolutely sure that the monastery was somehow responsible for the disappearance of the money. It made perfect sense; they were the ones who claimed the money was gone. No one else had seen it not arrive. But the cellars were full of money that was untouched. Surely they knew that if they wanted to steal his money they could take that a little at a time and not be discovered for years possibly. Why would they risk deception of this kind? Perhaps the two robberies were not related. perhaps those boys had pulled this off somehow and the original robbery had been done by the couriers as originally suspected. It was infuriating.
In the end, he reinstated Roland, and kept his new batch of men as well. It was well impressed on all of them as they made their journey back, that finding the money and the thieves was everyone’s first priority. The day wore on. It  had been gone more that a week since the sheriff had left Nottingham all told and they had not tarried. It wasn’t far from Derby as they entered the last leg of their journey exhausted and dozing on their mounts when one of the new boys had dismounted to relieve himself. He was heard to yelp not unlike a little girl and he came out of the woods with his leggings still down and the color quite drained from his face. Some of the other lads had a look to see what the fuss was about and they all agreed that the sheriff should have a look for himself.
Aggravated at this point by absolutely everything, the sheriff cursed as he dismounted and left the road to see what lay in the bushes that could have these otherwise fearsome men all a flutter.
There, just off the path that each of them had traveled many times over the past few months, was something that a wild animal, probably a wolf, had dug up. Pulled out from where it had been buried, was a human hand and wrist. Judging from the clothing, it had belonged to the captain of the couriers from the first stolen shipment of gold.

In the following days, money was brought to the orphanage to cover expenses, meanwhile, many things like food and clothes were purchased by the people of the greenwood and donated to the orphanage to mask the source of the income. It would not due if any word got back to the sheriff that the money raised for the benefit of the orphanage was helping the orphanage. Very few people knew the sheriff had planned on taking that money for himself, and even fewer knew that it had been retaken from the sheriff and was being siphoned back to the orphanage. One person who fit into the former category, but not the second was Marian. Tuck had overheard the conversation between Cedric and the sheriff, and not knowing who to turn to, had confided in Marian. She in turn had innocently guessed that Robin was the thief to blame for the sheriff’s wanting the orphanage’s money. This was how Robin came to pay a visit to Tuck and scheme to rob the sheriff a second time. Marian did not know that she was correct about Robin being a thief and in fact was repenting of having accused him of being a criminal. It was judged that the robbery was more likely to succeed if only people who were involved knew about it. Only a handful of people knew all the details.
When the sheriff’s men delivered the chests full of rocks to the monastery, they were opened in the daylight where it was obvious immediately that there was only a few coins on top covering rocks painted to look like coins. The monastery was used to receiving money that needed to be kept quiet, so they didn’t inform the sheriff of their district, but they didn’t trust their curriers either. Who accepts a chest of rocks as gold coins? It was preposterous. They invited Roland and his men to stay as their guests while they dispatched their own man, a friar Oswald, to report to the sheriff. Roland, who had not been present at the opening of the chests (a huge mistake on his part), needed the rest and had no idea that he was in fact a prisoner of the monastery. After all, it is well known that the rooms monks stay in are called “cells”.
The sheriff got the news a few days later and became apoplectic. It was obvious that it had to be Roland and his men who had perpetrated the crime. No one else knew about the shipment of money. Therefore, it stood to reason that Roland was also responsible for the first robbery as well. The only problem was that everyone knew that Roland was as dumb as a bag of rocks. Everyone knew this of course, except Roland because he was so very stupid. This is exactly what Robin had hoped for. In this way the sheriff would not go looking for a nest of outlaws living close to Nottingham that might have the where-with-all to hatch such schemes.
The sheriff decided he had a choice. He could send for Roland to return to him at Nottingham (perhaps in chains, perhaps not), or he could keep Roland at the monastery and go down there and pay him a visit. The longer he could keep Roland from realizing he was a prisoner, the easier it would be to keep him one. If Roland were the perpetrator, he must realize that the theft would have been discovered by now. Perhaps Roland felt he was above suspicion. No matter. The sheriff would get to the bottom of it soon enough. He hated to leave the shire practically unattended, but there was nothing for it. His few remaining men at arms were capable of carrying out orders, but not of making decisions on their own. So few people were capable of making decisions on their own, in the sheriff’s opinion. He decided to see if he could press Cedric into service. After all, this was all his fault in a way. Wasn’t it? Well it was certainly somebody’s fault and it wasn’t the fault of the sheriff’s. That much was patently obvious to anyone with half a brain in his head.
He had Robert, the more brutish of his remaining men fetch the vicar to him. When dealing with men of office, it was better to deal with them in ones own surroundings. The sheriff felt this show that the authority in the matter, in fact the region; belonged to the sheriff. There were vicars of large churches who somehow came to the conclusion that they had authority in such matters and the sheriff would brook no such attitudes in Nottinghamshire.
Cedric arrived looking more pale than usual, which was a neat trick as he was already quite pale. Robert had been the right choice. He smiled but did not stand. “Good morrow to you, Father.” said the sheriff.
“William.” said the vicar. Very few people addressed him as William and the sheriff took note of it.
“I’ll be blunt. There has been a, shall we say a “problem” with the latest shipment of coin to the monastery.”
“Good Lord! Not again!” Cedric said. He put his hand to his forehead, and took a deep breath.
“My sentiments precisely. I must pay a visit to the monastery to investigate, and as most of my men are there already, I need someone I can trust to keep the peace around here.” He let that sink in for a moment. Presently, he saw understanding come into Cedric’s face.
“You want me to act in your stead?” he asked.
“That is correct. Consider this a formal deputisation.” the sheriff said. “With the added responsibility comes additional power. You will be the law while I am gone. If anyone gives you any trouble, lock them up, beat them. You can even execute them for all I care; there are certainly some candidates for that roaming the shire. Just keep the peace. Make sure the county doesn’t burn itself down.”
“I am honored, Magistrate.” said Cedric.
“Indeed. You are. Do not fail me.”

The sheriff was not foolish enough to make the journey south alone. Yet he could spare nobody. Though he had deputies in each town and village throughout the shire, and they had men of their own, this matter, like most of the sheriff’s business required discretion and as his men were not only already south at the monastery, but most likely traitors who were not long for this world, so William; high sheriff of Nottinghamshire, and now according to Father Cedric at least; Magistrate as well, found it prudent to find new men to draw to himself. There were always men in need of employment in winter and the sheriff found a band of soldiers in Derby that fit the bill.
As they traveled, the sheriff took the lead and he grew weary of listening to the new men whisper among themselves. The gist seemed to be that he had basically hired them as protection for the journey and must therefore be carrying a lot of money and be unable to protect himself. They thought they were being quiet and clever in their scheming, but as with all the conclusions to which they had come since joining him on the road, they were mistaken. In between their scheming they also gossiped of rumors that this road was haunted, the women in the nearby towns, their gambling skills and whose horse was fastest. It was really quite tiresome.
Presently, the men asked if they might stop for a rest. The sheriff looked around and noted that just ahead was a clearing. They had not yet come to the clearing and in fact at this point, the path was quite narrow. Pine and Oak and elm crowded right up to the road and they had been obliged to travel single file for about a mile. The sheriff stopped as requested. He turned to face them.
“Actually, just ahead is a clearing where we can dismount and water our horses. Stretch our legs a bit, eh Governor?”
“Actually, it’s sheriff, not Governor. And this will do just fine. Don’t you think.” Though he raised his eyebrows and inflected his voice, it was not a question.
“Sheriff?” said the one in the back around his fellows.
“Had I neglected to tell you?” asked the sheriff. “I am William Brewer; High Sheriff of Nottinghamshire. We are on our way to Mottisfont Abby in Hampshire to find my most trusted men guilty of robbing me, upon which time we shall summarily execute them.”
The one in the front, the largest one (of course) was not so easily put off. Nor did he seem to realize that the plan of getting to the clearing so they could surround him wasn’t going to work. “That’s an awful long journey to have to take to earn a days wages.” He said menacingly.
“Yes, well a days wages are accrued by the day, not the mile. Hence the name. However; do go on.”
“Well you see, we just want to stretch our legs a bit.”
The sheriff drew his sword. He had learned throughout the years how to maximize the satisfying sound a properly drawn sword can make. “Your legs will be stretched from one end of England to the next if you try that flimsy ploy one more time!” seethed the sheriff. “If there is one thing I can’t stand, it one not knowing when to give up on their lame deception. Right! let’s get on with it. My purse.”
“What?”
“You were about to demand my purse, man! Do hurry up. If you want a proper burial, the day is wasting.”
The man looked over his shoulder at his mates to find them a bit baffled at the turn of events.
“Draw your sword then!” the sheriff said. There was no jest in his voice. “Do it!!” he bellowed.
The man drew his sword, more following orders than preparing to attack.
“Right!” the sheriff said. he spurred his horse forward and cut the man’s head off. The corpse sat ahorse for a moment and then slid unceremoniously to the ground, the horse trying to sidestep but the man was caught in the stirrups and was dragged as the horse sidestepped and then having nowhere to go, stepped back and trampled the body underfoot.
“Well. if the forest wasn’t haunted before, it most certainly is now, eh?” said the sheriff to the remaining soldiers. “Now, if there are no more plans for robbery we can make quite a few miles before sunset.” With that, he turned and continued on the road.
“What about the burial you promised?” said one of the men.
“Have at it. Just try to catch up before nightfall. There are dangerous men in these woods.” said the sheriff without looking back.

The sheriff Held his lantern over the chest and peered in at the gold coins. The heat had fled with the sun and yet the cold swirling around the scene seemed to emanate from the sheriff himself. He had fumed briefly and impotently when he had been bested and then ignored by the crowd. He locked eyes with Roland and for a brief moment commiserated with his man before steeling himself. He would take care of Robin Hood in good time, right now he needed to send these chests of money to his monastery. This time he would take no chances. He was sending his own men. There were six of them; nearly every man he had. If the thieves struck again, they would be decimated. There had truly been a record turnout, and there were four chests heavily laden with coin. The clergy had recognized his seething anger and had not said a word as he took everything, not even leaving the portion allotted to the orphanage.
He made sure the chests were secure and sent the men out into the darkness. It was unheard of to travel at night, but the sheriff wanted to take no chances. The sooner these chests arrived at the monastery, the sooner he could breathe easy. The horses would not be able to see, but the sheriff would not listen to complaints or excuses.
The team made its way quickly out of Nottingham, but once away from the sheriff, Roland slowed the horses and had Mace walk in front with a torch and lead them. Roland was sore from the day’s effort and had a fantastic headache for which he kept a skin of strong wine close by. He welcomed the idea of an attack that would let him unleash his blood lust, but wanted a bit of rest beforehand.
The night wore on and all was quiet until well after midnight. Diana’s moon was high in the air; a bow pointed down at them as if to attack. There was a sound in the wood off to the right.. “Halt!” called Roland. Everyone had torches, so they all drew swords instead of bows. Each man was tense, and alert. There was the sound of hooves in the woods; definitely more than one animal. They waited in silence for a long moment and then bursting through the woods onto the road they came with a terrible crash, deadly points stabbing at the air. They thundered onto the road quickly, several of them, their eyes piercing the night as they came. And then, as quickly as they has appeared, they were gone, leaving the road in silence once again; the men staring at nothing, dumbfounded. A herd of deer had crossed the road heading for the river to drink.

Far to the north in Sherwood forest, Robin and his men found the hidden glen where they had agreed to meet. It was late and they were all exhausted. “Were you all careful not to be followed?” asked Robin in a hushed voice. Each man nodded affirmative. There were clouds of breath from horse and man and the scent of wet earth that comes in the early morning hours before dawn in the air. They pulled their saddlebags off of the horses and Robin carefully lit a lantern, not wanting too much light to give them away. They opened the bags and peered inside. Each bag was full and heavy with gold.
“It’s too bad we had to let the sheriff have some of this.” said John.
“We needed the real thing to cover the rocks in the chests so he wouldn’t suspect. It was only a handful, really.” said Will.
“That was cunningly done, stealing the gold from the sheriff before it was ever in his hands and giving him chests full of painted rocks.” said John.
“Aye. we just had Wulfhere take the real gold down to the basement as soon as it was dropped off throughout the day. This way, there’s no bloodshed, and no one’s in danger.” said Robin.
“Except the old hermit.” said Will.
“Well, he claims he can turn invisible” said John.
“That is a load of rubbish.” said Will.
“Aye.” agreed John.
“Well, he certainly came through for us today, and he would’ve been killed if he had been caught.” said Robin.
“Aye, but I wasn’t caught was I?” said Wulfhere appearing from seemingly nowhere.
“Jesus and Mary!” said John. “Where in the devil did you come from?”
“A load of rubbish perhaps?” said Wulfhere.

Robin had had enough of contests for one day. Two of his best mates had nearly been killed by one man. He would have changed his mind about participating in the archery contest, but he had already signed up. At least Roland didn’t consider himself an archer. He had to remind himself that they were there for a higher purpose than revelry. Many of the lads were drinking and having a good time, but Robin and his close crew knew to keep their wits about them. Still, Robin wanted to visit Tuck to check on the preparations and the most inconspicuous way to do that was to visit him at his wine booth.
Robin Had picked up some sturdy green wool when they visited the Gladys’ shop and some earthy brown. Tom’s wife had helped him with it, but he had done most the work himself. Now he sported a new green cloak with a nice roomy hood that could be used to keep out the cold, shade himself from the sun or just keep his face out of view as he was doing now. A cloak was usually nothing more than a heavy cape with a hood. In cold weather, you wrapped it around you for warmth, and in warmer weather you wore it draped over your shoulders in case of rain or wind. Briton was an island, and weather could turn cold without warning.
As he approached the wine booth, he noticed Tuck was talking to Marian. She wasn’t in on the plan as Robin didn’t know her and only those participating even knew it was happening. He was about to walk on by when she noticed him.
“Well, if it isn’t the gentleman from the cloth shop!“ She said. “This is an improvement. Why it almost hides your face completely!“ Robin could tell she was making fun of him and became flustered. He could kill professional soldiers, take their gold, live in the forest, build a house, make his clothes, but getting teased by Marian bested him.
“Thank you.“ he said. “Your dress is also quite lovely.“ They both stood there blushing at each other as Tuck looked from one to the next. He shook his head and had a sip of wine.
“Marian spends most of her time at the orphanage.“ Tuck said. “She teaches them to read, mends their clothes, helps in the kitchen. She may spend more time there than me, and I live there.“
“That is surely God’s work you’re doing, Miss Marian.“ Robin said.
“It’s ‘Maid.’“ said Marian.
“What?“
“The term. It’s ‘Maid’, not ‘Miss’. ‘Maid Marian.’ That is how to address an unmarried girl.“
“In any case, it is surely a saintly task you’ve taken for yourself.“
“Any one can do it.“ she said.
“I cannot do such things.“ Robin said.
Tuck enjoyed watching them. It was like they had forgotten he was even there.
“You could teach the boys to fish. Perhaps to shoot. Are those things you can do.“
“Aye, Miss. Ah Maid. Madam, uh…. Yes. I can do those things fair enough.“
“There you see.“ She said. “Come by on the morrow and we shall find some manly task for you.“
“Ma’am?“
“…For you to teach the children.“ she said. “An honorable subject. The boys could learn something useful from a Yeoman such as yourself:“
“Yes, m…Maid Marian.“

The sheriff also had ulterior reasons for being at the festivities. He had signed up for the archery contest to give the appearance of being there for the revelry, but now he made his way to the vestry to check on his chests. When he got there he was surprised to find two guttersnipes with their hands on his money! He had arrived just in time! They looked up at him brazenly as if to challenge his presence there. How dare they! His whip was in his hands instantly and they were squirming and jumping out of the way like grasshoppers, creating quite a cacophony, but they didn’t flee. One of them, the small blond one, had grabbed a hold of the oak pole upon which the Sacred Host was carried into mass each Sunday. He swung it at the sheriff and hit him on the thigh. Furious, the sheriff drew his sword and in that moment, Father Cedric burst in.
“What in the name of all that is holy is going on in here?“ he demanded.
“This man burst in here and came at us with a whip!“ said Eric.
“I caught these thieves red handed, elbow deep in my money!“ Shouted the sheriff.
“Don’t everyone talk at once!“ said Cedric.
“We weren’t stealing it!“
“Then what were you doing here?“ demanded the sheriff.
“What do mean ‘your money‘?“ Johnny asked.
“Just answer the question!“
“We are delivering the money here for Friar Tuck.“ said Johnny. “What do you mean, ‘your money’?“
“I am the Sheriff of Nottingham!“ bellowed the sheriff of Nottingham.
“This money is for the ORPHANAGE!“ said Johnny. “Tell him Father!“
“Of course the sheriff knows this money is for the orphanage. Don’t you Sheriff?“
“Of course it is. I never said it wasn’t.“ said the sheriff. “Now you boys run along, and stay out of trouble!“
The boys stood there glaring at the sheriff.
“You heard the sheriff. Run along.“ said Cedric.
“And don’t let me catch you causing any more trouble!“ said the sheriff.
The boys left and as soon as they got outside they began talking about what the sheriff could have meant.
“Didn’t is seem strange that Father Cedric didn’t correct him until we asked him to?“ said Johnny.
“What did he mean ‘Stay out of trouble?’ We weren’t causing any trouble. He’s the one that was causing trouble“
“Who’s causing trouble?“ said Robin, who ran into them as he headed toward the vestry.
“The sheriff!“ said Eric. “He accused us of stealing his money! We’re the orphans. He was the one that doesn’t belong there!“
“The sheriff is in the vestry?“ asked Robin.
“Aye. He came at us with a whip, and when we defended ourselves he drew his sword on us.“
“He drew his sword on children?“ Robin had seen the sheriff beat and whip children, but to draw his sword?
“Eric hit him with a pole.“ explained Johnny.
“It was self defense! He was trying to whip us.“ said Eric.
Robin smiled broadly. “You boys stood up to the sheriff? That is more than anything I’ve ever heard of! Why, you boys are heroes!“
“Not really. If Cedric hadn’t shown up we’d be dead.“ said Johnny.
“Speak for yourself! I would have beat him back with that pole!“ said Eric.