Category: writing

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.

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.

As Robin cooked a spitted fish over a fire for breakfast he though about finding a place to stow his belongings so he could move more freely about. He could sustain himself indefinitely, by creating new arrows and even a new bow when he needed. There was plenty of game, and wild nuts and berries. The forest would provide everything he needed to survive. However, Robin wanted more than to survive. He wanted his land back. He wanted to get rid of that fat sheriff and live among people. He wanted coffee, beer, and fellowship. He had been runoff unfairly. The more Robin thought about it, the more it had seemed deliberate, as if the taxes were set too high, so he would have to forfeit his house. He wasn’t the criminal, the sheriff was. Robin wanted justice.
Just then, Robin heard a twig snap. Whoever was watching him was no woodsman. He had been making noise ever since Robin had arrived. Robin got up and pretended to clean up his breakfast. His brown hair was due for a cut and it was uncombed and blowing in the morning breeze as he crossed the camp with the bones of the fish. Suddenly, in a fluid movement, Robin dropped the fish, picked up a long branch that lay across the camp and lunged at a bush at the edge of the clearing.
“Oof!” said the bush.
“Who’s there!” demanded Robin.
“John.” said the bush.
“Well, John, you must be a little fellow to be hiding behind that bush. Come out if you don’t want to get hurt.” From behind the bush stood a man. He had been crouching and as he stood, he just kept standing up. Up and up. He was quite large and in fact towered menacingly over Robin. “Well, that’s quite a lot of John to be hiding behind such a tiny bush!” said Robin. Robin held the branch up defensively to keep the giant at bay.
John grabbed the branch and deftly poked Robin in the stomach with it. “See how you like it!” John said.
“Why were you spying on me?” Robin demanded, aware that without the branch and dwarfed by John he was in no position to demand anything. ‘That is precisely when to make demands’ Robin always would say.
“I wasn’t!” John Lied.
“What were you doing, then?”
“That fish smelled good. I was hoping for a bite.” John said truthfully. “If you had killed that deer, we could feast for days.”
“So you saw that, eh? That wasn’t exactly a hunting situation, was it? I think that deer was welcoming me to its forest. Which is more than you have done.”
“Well it didn’t give me a welcome when I got here.” John complained.
“Maybe he thought you would eat him, eh?” said Robin.
“Maybe.” agreed John.
“So if it was the fish that attracted you,” Robin said, “How did you know about the deer?”
“You ask too many questions!” John said, poking Robin with the branch. Robin grabbed the other end of the branch and they began a tug-of-war, which culminated in John lifting Robin off the ground as he clung to his end of the branch while John tried to shake him off.
“I give! I give up! You win! Damn, Little John, you are too strong for this outlaw!” At that, they both fell to laughing.
“Let’s get you a fish to eat.” Robin said. They went to the stream and in two shakes, Robin had put an arrow through a couple of fish for both of them.
As they ate, John asked; “How did you come to be an outlaw?”
“They taxed me out my home.” Robin said.
“The sheriff is a thief.” said John.
“Aye. That he is.”
“I’m a thief too” said John.
“Really?” said Robin. “You’re so noisy; I don’t see how you could be any good at it.”
“Not by trade, really. I was sick, too sick to work, so they docked my pay and I couldn’t afford to eat. So I stole a loaf of bread.” said John.
“Aye, you’re a thief alright.” said Robin.
“Well, all the game in the forest belongs to the King, so I guess you’re a thief too.” said John.
“That’s a fact.” said Robin. “In that case, everyone I know and me; we’ve all been thieves all our lives.” Robin thought about this. “It doesn’t leave a man a way to make due for himself, does it? You have to buy bread, we’re not supposed to kill the King’s deer or aught else I reckon. If you can’t work, you can’t eat.” Robin thought some more. “I’d like to steal my land back.” he said. “And all the taxes sheriff William has put in his pocket!” Color came into Robin’s face. John nodded agreement.
“That’s what we should do. Steal it back. It was ours to begin with.”
“Aye.” said Robin. “That’s just what we should do. What can they do; outlaw us again?”