ALocksleyWedding
"We're off to Locksley, lads." Robin announced this in his usual cheery manner, grabbing a sack of money, and beckoning Much to go with him.
"Locksley? But we were just there this morning." Allan's voice was matter-of-fact but with just an edge of suspicion, a feeling that they were giving just a bit too much of their hard-earned wealth away.
"Ah, but this is different. This time, we're going to a wedding."
"Yes, a wedding." Much seemed a bit exasperated, but also strangely happy. "Tom Brewster's daughter's getting married."
Will had been lying in his bunk, only partly paying attention, but he sat up now, startled. "Who? Rose? She's getting married?"
Robin, almost on his way out of the camp, raised an eyebrow at Will, and then, he laughed. "Yes, she is. Can you believe it? Always thought she was just a little girl!"
Will nodded absently, still trying to make sense of what Robin was saying. It was as Robin said…a bit hard to believe. But it was not because Will thought of Rose as a little girl. In fact, the truth was quite the opposite. Rose was only a year or two younger than Will, and there was a time when most of Locksley thought he was courting her.
It was not true, of course. He had liked it when Rose smiled at him, and one year, when he was twelve, he had given her a clutch of wildflowers on her birthday and then spent the rest of the day imagining what it would be like to hold her hand. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could see her perfectly, a long-legged girl running through the fields, her mane of hair, the color of polished yellow cedar, trailing behind her.
He got up out of his bunk and began to walk away, but a voice stopped him.
"Where're you going, mate?"
"Nowhere. Just wanted to take a walk."
Allan smiled knowingly. "You're off to Locksley, aren't you?"
"What? No . . . I . . ."
"Secret's safe with me. Besides, I love weddings. There's ale and food and pretty girls. And you don't even have to pay!"
Will sighed. There was no point in denying it any more, and as troublesome as Allan could be sometimes, having him along was probably better than going to Rose's wedding alone. And uninvited.
-000-
By the time they reached Locksley, the wedding was over but the wedding feast was in full flow. Although Allan had no such qualms, Will kept his distance, mindful of the fact that outlaws were not meant to be seen at weddings. He stayed in the shadows of the village green, finding himself a nice vantage point from where he could see Rose and her new husband.
She seemed happy enough, and she looked lovely in her wedding dress, wildflowers strung through her long hair, as radiant as any English rose. Watching Rose now, he wondered at how he had not thought of her at all in the year since he had left his home in the village. After all, he had once been so . . .
He had not quite finished the thought when he felt a friendly clap on his shoulder.
"Not being funny, but you're missing all the good stuff, hiding up here."
Will bristled. "I'm not . . . you should be hiding too. We're outlaws!"
Allan shrugged. "So the groom . . . his name's Matthew. He's son of the baker in Wellow." Allan laughed unaccountably now, and then, at the look of confusion on Will's face, he added, "Get it? He's from Wellow. She married a fellow from Wellow."
Will groaned. Allan drunk was worse than Allan sober. He began to think of ways to go back to the camp on his own.
"So…you in love with her or something?"
Will looked at Allan in surprise. Only Allan could follow up something so ridiculous with something so serious.
"I . . ." Will closed his eyes, and pondered Allan's question. But instead of the vision he'd expected, one of a young blond girl running through the fields clutching wildflowers to her chest, a completely different one came to him. It was as shocking as it was unbidden.
He could see her clearly now, a small and dark figure standing in a forest clearing, sword at the ready, her expression at once amused and defiant as she faced off against some unseen enemy. He could hear the music in her voice as she laughed at one of Allan's more ribald stories. He could feel the warmth of her fingers as she administered to their myriad cuts and scrapes. He smiled at the vision, irrationally pleased at what he'd seen, and knowing that the English rose had faded and been replaced by some impossible and wild desert flower.
He opened his eyes and shook his head in answer to Allan's question. "No, not in love. Just wanted to see a Locksley wedding; that's all."