I don't own most of these characters. Thank you Kip Carpenter! These stories are also posted on RoS Fan fiction.
REUNION
2530 AD Sherwood Centre
Anya Huntingdon usually moved slowly among the ancient trees of Sherwood or, rather, what was left of the once massive forest. She'd been born beneath the canopy of the Major Oak, a living monument to a legend wrapped in the mists of half-forgotten history. The first fifteen years of her life, this had been home, schoolroom, and playground. She came from a long line of foresters sworn to safeguard England's natural heritage. She'd left Sherwood only to finish her training, and serve as an intern elsewhere, before returning home to join her cousins in its care.
But her beloved Sherwood was changing lately. Or she was, she and her cousins. The outside world encroached more, and the trees at the edges of the park were sick and dying. None of them could identify the disease that withered the leaves and young branches, and it was spreading. Sometimes, it seemed as if the cousins themselves had caught it.
Mostly, she took her time beneath the interwoven canopy of oak and ash and birch. This evening, she ran. She knew she was being foolish, but she couldn't help it. She'd wandered here day and night all her life. There was no danger in Sherwood for her. But tonight, she felt danger, and a deep-rooted fear that would not let go. So she ran, darting around trees, under branches, leaping the brook and boulders, even though her legs felt more leaden with every step.
The mist came out of nowhere, swirling up around her and the trees, muffling the sound of her ragged breathing. It did not, however, increase her fear. Instead, it was like a comforting cocoon, slipping in between her and the nameless terror that chased her. She slowed, and drew a deep breath. It hurt like fire, and left her light-headed.
Ahead of her, the land raised. At the top of the hill, a figure appeared, strangely back-lit in the mist. Tall and slender, with the head of a great stag, such as had not been seen here for centuries. Anya knew that figure, from paintings and visions, and distant glimpses through the trees.
"Herne!" Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and rough. She staggered forward.
"Now is the time," a masculine voice announced. And suddenly, to Anya, there seemed to be two Hernes standing there, side by side. Both speaking as one. "Time for the Great Wheel to turn, and events that were wrongly changed to be corrected. All things, all times, must find the Balance."
"I don't understand."
"You will," came the promise, as a strong arm reached around to support her. "You will."
The wind picked up, whipping branches, bending trees, and whirling leaves into mini tornados. It lasted only a few minutes, and then all was still.
And only one antlered figure remained on the hill.
Sherwood circa 1211
Anya opened her eyes slowly. She felt sick and weak and disoriented. She vaguely recalled the figure who'd reached for her on the hilltop. An old man? No, no old man, but Herne, the spirit of the greenwood. And she recalled the nameless terror that had chased her to that spot and had not vanished with his appearance, but had lost its grip on her. But where was she now? The cave looked familiar, yet, at the same time, it didn't. Legends and family oral history called it Herne's Grotto and she and her cousins had visited it often. Yet the pool was deeper and wider, protecting the entire entrance now, and it was a lot cleaner than she'd seen it in a good six months. The air was crisper, and lacked the underlying scent of fuel and garbage. And the forest she could see beyond the mouth of the cave, her own beloved Sherwood, was younger, denser, and definitely healthier.
She tried to sit up, but her body rebelled, and her head swam, and she fell back again with a groan that was both tortured and torturing.
"This will help." Strong arms helped her sit up, and a drinking horn was held to her lips. Anya sipped cautiously. It tasted vile in her mouth, but it rapidly eased her raw throat, anchored the spinning chamber, and settled her queasy stomach. She was able to focus, and saw her nursemaid was an old man with grey hair, dressed mostly in deerskins.
"Where am I?" Her voice was ragged and hollow, still little more than a whisper, and it hurt to talk.
"A better question would be 'when'." The man smiled slightly. "You know 'where,' my child."
"I know where. Add 'why'." Anya sank back.
"All things that happen carry their own reactions," Herne told her. "If just one thing changes, then everything that follows will change. If one event is altered, worlds are affected. Drop a stone in calm water, and the ripples go much further than that spot. Who are you?"
"Anya Huntingdon."
"Who are you?"
"Anya Huntingdon, New Sherwood Park National Forester." Anya frowned.
"You know your family, girl. You know the song in your blood." Herne had gone from gentle nurse to stern teacher. "From where do you spring?"
"I don't understand the question," Anya sighed. "Why am I here?"
"When you can answer my question, you will have part of the answer to your own." He moved off, leaving her lying dazed, and only semi-coherent, on the pallet of furs and sweet rushes.
Anya frowned, considering the question. Herne was the spirit of the greenwood, so it wasn't likely to be as straightforward as it sounded. Gods, Anya knew, were fond of speaking in riddles to make people think.
"I spring from all those who came before me," she said, turning her head to locate Herne in the shadows.
"And who of you came to me before all others?" Herne asked.
"Robert of Huntingdon?" Anya asked, thinking of the stories passed down through the family across centuries.
"He is but one half of a whole."
"Marion of Leaford is the other."
Herne returned to her side, a pleased look on his face.
"You are the daughter of the greenwood still. We are not yet too late."
"Too late for what?"
"To correct what was changed that should not have been," he said gravely. "She has gone to Halstead, and means to take vows."
"But…if Marion doesn't stay with Robert, my whole family changes." Anya blinked. "I am the sum of those who went before and my own experiences and choices. Change one part of the equation…"
"Evil reached out and touched events in this time. An ancient evil that seeks the destruction of the greenwood." Herne said with a nod.
"Are you saying I have to change her mind? Get her to go back to Robert?"
"The Winds of Time and Fate chose you, yes."
Anya listened as Herne went on. She could accept the truth of much of what he said, without trying to actually understand it. After all, she knew the stories of her family. And she'd heard of lone travellers before finding themselves not so much elsewhere as elsewhen. It felt a little unreal, but there was too much evidence to support it.
The lethargy, the sickness of Sherwood in her time, the bouts of weakness she and her cousins had been suffering, were all tied to Marion's decision to leave the band, especially Robert. All times coincide, Herne said, as well as progress linearly. Of course, Anya noted wryly, he never said it all so simply.
"I'm so weak, I don't know what use I'll be." Anya sighed. "I'm not even sure I can walk as far as Halstead."
"You will not have to."
"Then I will do my best. If I don't, too many things change….me included!"
Robert of Huntingdon, also known as Robin Hood, was a man with only half his heart in his fight right now. Not so long ago, it had been different. One challenge met, a fearsome enemy defeated, and he'd been confident, ready for the next. They'd all felt that way.
All but Marion. She'd come close to death, been plagued by nightmares, and had found what she'd thought to be his body at the Ring of Nine Maidens. It had been too much for her. She'd decided she could no longer face the life of an outlaw, the possibility of seeing those she loved killed in front of her. She was determined to remain at Halstead Priory and take the vows of a nun. That left the rest of them still trying to come to terms with losing her.
When the silent call from Herne reached him, Robin stood abruptly from his depression. To his surprise, Nasir and Tuck also reacted. The friar was blinking furiously, not being used to such summons, or very comfortable with them.
"Where are you going, Robin?" Much demanded, sounding worried.
"Herne has called," Robin explained. "John, keep Much and Will out of trouble. We shouldn't be too long."
"Why me?" Tuck demanded, scrambling along behind the longer strides of the fair-haired noble and the dark and silent Saracen.
"That, you will have to ask Herne, Tuck," Robin shrugged. "Because I don't know."
Herne was waiting when they reached the lake that guarded his cave. The stag head cloak hid his human features, even though they had all seen his face before.
"There is only one Son of Herne at any time." The voice sounded strangely echoing. Robin had yet to figure out if it was caused by the headdress, or the presence of a god speaking through a man. "But Herne, and the Greenwood, has many children."
"Is my time so short then?" Robin asked. He couldn't find it in himself to be overly worried about the possibility of his own death now. Did it matter, without Marion?
"Not when there are tasks remaining only you can do. But now comes a task you can not do," Herne said. "And, so, another has come. From the oceans of Time, a daughter. From a time so distant from this, that this is but a memory of a memory. From here, you three must take her where she needs to be to start her task. She is too weak to travel alone…"
"Halstead Priory," Tuck guessed. Herne nodded.
"The pebble has yet to drop. Until it does, she will fade, being a ripple of that pebble," Herne said. "And if the pebble does not drop at all, she will cease to be, and many more through time will never be at all."
"A cart," Nasir said, heading away from the lake, vanishing quickly into the trees.
"Come." Herne beckoned the other two to join him.
Anya was propped up against a pile of furs, her eyes closed. Her face was so pale, it nearly glowed in the dimness of the cave, lit only by a fire. She had managed to change from her serviceable unijumper into a rough-spun woollen dress without help, but it had sapped what little strength the herbal drink had given her.
"She's a child." Robin said, frowning.
"I am not!" Anya replied tartly, not opening her eyes. "It isn't my fault I'm short." Her voice, still raspy, almost echoed off the cave walls, even though she'd whispered.
"Who is she?" Tuck asked Herne. "I'd swear I've never seen her before, but she reminds me of someone…"
"When you know that, you will know her," Herne stated. "Her name is Anya."
Robin carried her, wrapped in a warm fur cape, to the boat. Like Tuck, he found himself reminded of someone, but he couldn't think of whom.
"I will do my best, Herne," Anya promised, her head resting listlessly against Robin's shoulder.
"That is all anyone can do." Herne touched her cheek. "Blood will tell blood."
Nasir had already returned with a small cart, pulled by a sturdy little donkey. Tuck rode with Anya, to keep her from getting tossed around too much during the journey. It was then that he noticed the pendant she wore: a golden rose, set with a small ruby.
"Where did you get that?" he demanded.
"It was given to me by my father. Why?"
"I didn't think there was another like it. Marion had one…It was made for her mother years ago," Tuck explained. Anya touched the pendant.
"Then it is a good thing I have it with me now, Brother Tuck," she said. "I have much to do, little time, and not much strength. This may save time."
At Halstead Priory, it was Nasir who lifted her carefully from the cart, while Tuck rapped on the gate. Marion would not see Robin again, and the sisters had orders not to admit him. He'd have to stay with the cart, while Tuck and Nasir took Anya inside.
"I know you, Brother Tuck." The elderly nun who opened the gate frowned. "The Lady Marion does not wish…"
"Please, sister. This child is dying," Tuck interrupted. He'd watched Anya grow paler and paler during the journey, and he was worried.
"I am kin to Marion of Leaford," Anya whispered, her voice weak. "May I not see her, Sister? And find what comfort I may here, where healing is known to be?"
"Bring her in." The woman nodded, stepping back to open the gate wider. "Sister Clare, we need a litter here!"
Anya clung to Nasir a moment when he set her down.
"If you see me again, you will see us both," she whispered. "Tell him so." Nasir just nodded. He saw in her something of Marion, although it was not well-defined. Enough to believe she could be what she claimed. But he'd also seen Robin's stubborn set in her face, so he could have also believed her to be related to Robin. In either case, he didn't suppose it mattered. Herne had sent her here to Marion. That was enough for Nasir.
"But, Sister Bertram, I have no kinswomen, especially not near to my own age." Marion shook her head, looking confused.
"She asked me to give you this and begged you come to her." Sister Bertram held out the necklace. Marion recognized it instantly. She had thought it lost when she'd first fled Nottingham. "The child looks close to death, Marion. She is so pale, you can almost see through her skin. If only for Christian Charity's sake, see the girl."
"Yes, all right." Marion nodded, even more confused now. Where had this stranger come from and how had she gotten Marion's mother's necklace?
Anya had been taken straight to the infirmary and put in one of the beds closest to the windows. She opened her eyes as she heard someone approach.
"Marion." She looked straight at the slim young woman and ignored the two nuns with her. "You came."
"Who are you?" Marion demanded.
"A limb from a tree not yet planted," Anya said. "My name is Anya."
"Are you comfortable, child?" the older of the two nuns asked.
"As comfortable as I may be. Thank you, Sister. But my time grows short, and I've things to say to Marion only she and God may hear," Anya replied solemnly.
"Then we will leave you, and I will check on you later. I am Sister Adolphus, should you need me." The woman bowed slightly, motioned the younger nun ahead, and left.
"Who are you?" Marion demanded again.
"I told you."
"I don't know the name 'Anya'. I have never heard it before." Marion shook her head.
"I am a limb of a tree not yet planted," Anya repeated. "And if that tree is not planted, I will cease to be. Indeed, I never will have been."
"I don't understand."
"Look at me, Marion of Leaford. Marion of Sherwood," Anya commanded softly. "What do you see?"
"I see a young woman who is almost dead," Marion replied honestly.
"As you, yourself, have been, and not so long ago." Anya nodded slightly. "You were dying of poison. I will cease, due to someone else's fear of life. Your fear, Marion."
"Mine? I don't even know you!"
"Why are you here? Why are you in Halstead?" Anya demanded.
"I am going to take Holy Vows…"
"I didn't ask what you planned to do. I asked why you are here." Anya shook her head angrily. "Here, and not in Sherwood. You took vows before. You made promises before. Are they so easily forsaken?" Marion just stared. "The necklace…"
"Yes, the necklace. Where did you get it?" Marion asked, trying to stay calm.
"It was a gift from my father, when I turned sixteen. It's been in the family for generations," Anya said. "His name was James Huntingdon."
"Huntingdon?" Marion blinked.
"Yes, Huntingdon." Anya nodded. And he died… or will die…in the year 2528. IF he is ever born now. The tree has not yet been planted."
Marion fled, confused and a bit frightened by this pale stranger. Anya fell back against the pillow and slipped into unconsciousness. She was also afraid, afraid she had failed.
Sister Adolphus found Marion in the herb garden. "Marion? My child, you look nearly as pale as that poor girl in the infirmary!"
"That girl is mad!" Marion said bitterly.
"I do not find her so. Strange, as in…different. Not what I have known before." Sister Adolphus shook her head. "I feel she has seen places and things I have never even dreamed of. And she has come from a great distance to be here."
"What is wrong with her?"
"We can find nothing. She can only tell us how she feels. She is …fading." The nun frowned. "As if she is a picture drawn in the sand, and the waves and tide are washing her away. Sad, for one so young."
Marion wrestled with her own thoughts that evening, and most of the night. When she finally did sleep, she was haunted by nightmares. Anya, fading away before her eyes, like mist in the morning. A baby in her own arms, being blown away like dust in the wind.
The next morning, she was back in the infirmary, even after swearing to herself she wouldn't go near Anya again. The younger girl appeared to be sleeping. Her red-brown hair looked faded in the early sunlight, as if the colour were leeching out of it.
"You think me mad, yet you come again. Why is that?" Anya opened her eyes slowly. There again, Marion noticed the fading of colour. The night before, they'd been a green-grey hazel, about the only bit of her left with some vibrancy. Now they were dull, almost colourless.
"I am trying to understand who you are and why you are here," Marion informed her.
"I am one ripple of many, all from a single pebble," Anya said. "But that pebble hasn't dropped yet. You are determined that it never shall."
"I don't understand." Marion shook her head. "You speak in riddles."
"Because riddles force you to think," Anya replied. "And to look deep inside, sometimes at things you would rather not look at."
"I have made my choice."
"But have you made it honestly? The choices you make, that any of us make, affect generations that follow us, Marion," Anya whispered tiredly. "Generations that may not be born, if we give into fear and evil thoughts."
Marion shook her head. "I cannot go back."
"Why not? You love him. You love them all, each in a way. You are here only because you fear…"
"Yes, I fear! I fear losing Robert the way I lost Robin. I can't go through that again," Marion stated.
"Mortals are born, live, and die, Marion. That is the Wheel of Life," Anya said quietly. "You know that, as well as I. We have both lost people we have loved. But life goes on, an ever-turning wheel, with generations upon generations taking their brief places along the path. Will your grief be less, when they are gone, because you are hidden here, away from them? Or will it be greater because you will have no part of him remaining?"
"I will have memories…"
"You should have more than that. Children are made up of their parents, their experiences and their own choices."
"There is no guarantee…."Marion began.
"I am the guarantee, Marion," Anya stated. "I am a branch of the tree only you and Robert can plant. If Robert marries anyone else, everything about the family over thirteen hundred years changes!"
"Why?"
"If a blue-eyed man marries a woman with blue eyes, chances are all of their children will also have blue eyes," Anya explained patiently. "If he marries a woman whose eyes are not blue, then there is no telling what colour eyes their children will have."
"Are you saying that if I don't marry Robert, you will be a different person?" Marion demanded.
Anya nodded. "There is a very good chance if you don't marry Robert, I will never be born in 2507."
"Do you know how mad you sound?"
"We are all of us a little mad, in some way or another." Anya closed her eyes. "You have been thought mad for marrying Loxley. He was considered mad for daring to stand against tyranny. Robert is considered mad for leaving a comfortable life as the son of an earl, to keep Loxley's fight alive."
"I don't believe any of this."
"Do you really think the Christian god wants a bride who is only hiding from a mortal bridegroom?" Anya demanded. "I don't. He's usually too jealous for things like that. I'm cold, I'm tired, and I haven't much time left. Think, Marion! Look deep inside. You may surprise yourself."
Marion left her. Anya's distress was real enough. Sister Adolphus, who had a sixth sense about such things, was already hurrying over with something to ease the physical pain of her newest patient. Marion just wasn't sure she could do what Anya was asking of her.
It was noon before Anya opened her eyes. She was still weak, but she felt rested for the first time in weeks. She even managed to sit up herself, and was smiling when Sister Adolphus came to see her.
"You are looking a good deal better today, my child," the nun announced, more than a little surprised at the change.
Anya nodded. "I feel it, Sister. Last night or, rather, this morning, I actually slept, and slept well. I think I may be past the worst of it now."
"Praise the Lord. Now, how about some food?"
Marion was back that afternoon, pale but composed. Anya was still sitting up and felt even stronger than before. Whatever Marion might say, she'd made her mind up to go back to Robert, Anya was sure of it.
"I am not saying I believe everything you've said," Marion began, "but I've been struggling with myself since you got here. I thought I could hide here, find some sort of peace. On that, you were right. I was lying to myself. I don't belong here. I based my choice on fear."
"All of life is a struggle," Anya said. "Against fear, against loss. Mostly, for Balance within ourselves and around us. Sometimes the struggle is greater than that. Good versus evil, for you can't really have one without the other."
"You knew," Marion accused lightly. "You already knew I'd decided to go back."
"If you hadn't, I wouldn't be regaining my strength," Anya pointed out. "Evil almost managed to win a round here, driving you to seek a refuge from your fears. It might not have affected your lifetime, but it would have affected generations to come. I told you that."
"That's what I have a hard time believing," Marion admitted.
Anya nodded. "I can understand that, but it makes what I've said no less true. Our family has always held it a sacred trust to protect Sherwood, and any other greenwood we come in contact with. Sometimes, even when everyone else is bent on their destruction. I can only think that dedication bred into us came down from both you and Robert. Without you, it would not have been so strong. Sherwood would have been stripped of its defenders. It would have died, and with it, the spirit of Herne."
"Does Herne still exist when you came from?"
"Yes, and I'd seen him, although it wasn't quite the Herne you know," Anya replied. "He was at the Major Oak, the night my father died. My father, in his time, served as Herne's Son, Marion. Now, my cousin Alex does…or will…or…whatever."
"Does the fight never end?" Marion demanded.
"Does evil ever stay defeated?" Anya challenged. "No. It waxes and wanes, just like the moon, or the seasons, human joys and sorrows. It must, for Balance."
"Now what?"
"Now, you find me some real food, please." Anya grinned. "Sister Adolphus is a dear, but broth and gruel isn't going to build up my strength fast enough. I need to be able to walk out of here. And, then, we go home to Sherwood."
Two days later, the two women left Halstead Priory. Anya was still a little shaky on her feet, and used a staff to lean on, but she wouldn't delay any longer. She'd been out from under Sherwood's canopy for nearly a week and didn't like it. Her main strength had always come from the trees. Besides, the faster she got Marion back to Robert, the faster she, Anya, would be back to normal.
"Will you be able to adjust to life in this time, if you can't get back to your own?" Marion asked, helping Anya over a rocky stretch.
"I should." Anya shrugged. "I don't think I am meant to go back at all. I am starting to forget parts of that time, of things I learned of as history. Not so much my family, or my life in Sherwood, but those brief times I was away from the area. Things that are probably best left unspoken in this time."
"But what about your family?" Marion demanded. "Won't they worry? You talk as if you're close…"
"We were, are, will be. Herne will give Alex what answer he can," Anya replied calmly. "They may even find some trace to present to the authorities there to confirm my death in that time. Life will go on for them there, and for me here. I will miss them, and they will miss me, but that's all part of life, too."
"Sometimes, you sound like a very old woman," Marion teased.
"Blame it on my upbringing and education." Anya smiled. "If I wasn't climbing a tree, or trying to track some animal, or practicing archery, I had my nose in books. History, poetry, philosophy…"
"You can read?"
"Most people in that time can read at least their own language. Some of us learn several."
"Latin?"
"Very little. Mostly, just for the scientific names of plants and animals." Anya shook her head. "English, Welsh, French, German, and some Arabic… I had a friend who was born in … what is now known as the Holy Land."
"Marion!" Robin came up off his seat on a log as if he'd been forcibly ejected from it. Marion went straight into his waiting arms.
"I was wrong to think I could just hide from my life," she said. "I belong here, with you."
"We missed you!" Much was right at Robin's shoulder. Marion smiled and hugged the youth.
"And I missed you," she said, tousling his red curls.
"Who's she?" Will demanded suspiciously, pointing at Anya.
"A … kinswoman of mine, distantly," Marion replied. "And my friend. Her name is Anya."
"This is the same child we delivered to Halstead?" Tuck's jaw dropped.
"Only in Halstead Priory could I be saved, and so I was, Brother Tuck." Anya smiled slightly. "But I don't believe in long convalescences, and I prefer Sherwood to an abbey infirmary. I also prefer not being called a child, and that my dinner not be burnt to a cinder." She pointed at the rabbits on the spit. Tuck hurried to tend them.
"This was the task I couldn't do?" Robin asked Anya quietly, letting Marion move off to greet Will, John and Nasir.
Anya nodded. "The fear was too raw for you to touch it with healing, Robin."
"Why you?"
"Because I had even more to lose than you did."
"So, how long are you staying?" Will demanded of Anya later, while they were eating.
"Will!" Marion scolded. "Anya brought me home. Only she could have."
"Why's that, then?"
"Because she made me think beyond myself, beyond the here and now," Marion replied. "Choices we make effect generations to come." She spoke lightly, but avoided looking at either Robin or Anya.
"Might as well get used to me, Will, because you're basically stuck with me for the foreseeable future," Anya added.
"I almost forgot. Herne left something here for you," Robin said, motioning to Nasir. Nasir reached back and handed Anya a long bundle wrapped in deerskin.
"All my worldly possessions," Anya said wryly. Somehow, she wasn't surprised when she opened the bundle. Inside was the bow her uncle had made for her, a quiver full of arrows, her favourite pewter mug, and the wooden box containing her dresser set. She did feel a pang of regret. If Herne had brought this to Robin, it meant her cousins had left it in the rear chamber of Herne's Grotto, as the family's farewell to her. This meant they knew she wasn't coming back.
"Anya? Are you alright?" Marion asked quietly, touching her shoulder.
Anya nodded. "I knew before there was no way back. This is proof my family knows it, too."
"What's in the box?" Much had the curiosity of a child.
"Oh, just my brush set." Anya smiled, opening it. She discovered there was more there than just the silver-backed brush, comb and hand mirror. Someone, probably Alex's sister, Beth, had tucked in her green manpendant, and her favourite hair clips. "Or maybe not."
"That's pretty." Marion pointed at one of the clips, a row of gold ribbon roses.
"Silver?" Will's eyes narrowed. "Gold ribbon? We've got another spoiled, rich…"
"Will!" Robin and Marion both cut him off.
"Rich and spoiled? I wouldn't consider myself either of those things," Anya said slowly, closing the case. "But maybe, by your terms, I am, for all that. I've lived rough, but by choice, not need. I've hunted, but my survival didn't depend on it. I've been in some scraps, but none so bad I've had to kill a man. But what my family has, they earned by their own hands, not on the backs of others. Sacrifices have been made, and probably will be again. Blood has been spilled, and it may be my turn for that. I don't know."
"You can't ask for a more honest answer, Will," Tuck said mildly.
"It's not enough to trust my life to," Will stated.
"I wouldn't expect it to be," Anya said with a shrug, suddenly very, very tired. "You'll excuse me if I don't sit up to chat. I am still not completely back to myself, and I am too tired right now to care." She set the deerskin out on the ground, pulled the cloak around her, and curled up.
"What did she mean, she had more to lose than I did, if you didn't come back?" Robin asked Marion softly, sitting against a tree with Marion in his arms.
"You brought her to Halstead. Don't you know?" Marion asked.
"She rode in a cart with Tuck, and wasn't in any shape for conversation." Robin shook his head. "And I haven't yet figured out Herne's riddle about her, either."
"What did Herne say?"
"That he had many children, and this daughter came from a time so distant from this, that this is but a memory of a memory," Robin replied. "The pebble has yet to drop, and if it doesn't, she will cease to be."
"The pebble dropped, so she won't cease to be," Marion informed him lightly.
"You understand the riddle?"
"That part of it. I am the pebble," she explained. "I wasn't supposed to be where I was. My place is with you, and if I didn't accept that, it would change the generations that would follow."
"From a time so distant from this, that this is but a memory of a memory," Robin quoted again, looking across to Anya's sleeping form. "Our descendant? From some far-off future? Is it possible?"
"Sounds mad, doesn't it?" Marion smiled slightly. "But, yes, that's who she is. And, now, she's here with us, never to see her own time again…"
"Until she's born…when?"
"2507, she told me."
"That's thirteen hundred years away," Robin gasped lowly. "What is history to her hasn't happened yet…"
"No, but don't ask her about it because she can't tell you." Marion saw the speculative look in his eyes. "Her memory of that time is fading faster than she was, when you brought her to Halstead. Anya feels it's because she knew things we have no right hearing about. She's probably right, too."
"She's given up everything…"
"She made a sacrifice for the family, and for Sherwood, and for Herne. She doesn't regret that."
"So, who is she here and now?"
"My friend and distant kinswoman, Anya. A member of this group." Marion shrugged. "Does she need to be anything else?"
"No, I guess she doesn't." Robin smiled. "I suppose it will be rather like having a little sister."
"A good way of looking at it, although I suggest you leave out the 'little' part." Marion grinned. "She really isn't that much younger than you, in a way… "
"If we go by date of birth, she is!" Robin laughed. "I am so glad you came back, Marion."
"So am I."
"We'd better start putting in supplies for winter," Robin announced the following day. "John, you and I will scout a site for a winter camp. Nasir, you and Much go do some hunting…"
"Scout a site for winter camp?" Anya frowned.
"Can't just spend winter in a snug little village now, can we?" Will taunted.
"I know that, Will. I may be spoiled, and a bit soft, but I am not stupid." Anya made a face at him. "I just thought we'd be moving into the Winter Cave, that's all."
"What winter cave?" Robin asked.
"The clay and sandstone system just this side of Wickham," Anya replied. Everyone looked at her blankly. "You haven't used it yet?"
"We've never even seen it," John informed her. "How do you know about this cave?"
"I just do. Leave it at that." Anya swung her quiver into place and picked up her bow. "And I am fairly sure I can find it now."
"Tuck and I will make a list of what we need," Marion said.
"We'll be back before full dark." Robin kissed Marion, then reached for his own bow.
"Unless she gets you lost," Will commented.
"One of these days, Will, you're going to make a remark like that, and I am going to make you eat it," Anya warned sweetly. "We'll be back from Winter Cave before Nasir and Much bring home any venison." John winced. Nasir looked at her. Will jumped on the words.
"Care to put a wager on that?" he challenged.
"Of course." Anya shrugged. Will, grinning, looked around at the others.
"I say there ain't any cave, and that you'll get lost looking for it. Anya says you'll be there and back before Nasir and Much drop a deer and drag it back," Will reiterated. Then he eyed Anya. "All we need now is a forfeit."
"Not cooking!" Tuck said quickly. "I don't know about your cooking, Anya, but, to my sorrow, I do know about Will's!"
"And nothing dangerous!" Marion added, knowing Will too well.
"Let Robin decide," Anya said. "I won't be paying up, so whatever he picks is fine by me."
"The loser gets dunked in Wickham pond, with all the villagers watching," Robin suggested, grinning. Anya nodded.
"Fine by me," Will agreed. "As long as the little lady here don't mind getting wet."
"I am so going to enjoy watching you go underwater, Will Scarlet!" Anya laughed. "Come on, Robin! Do I get to dunk him myself?"
Despite the differences in the vegetation, and some of the land marks, Anya had little trouble finding the location of the cave. Finding the entrance was a bit more of a challenge.
"Here it is!" she finally announced, triumphantly pulling some vines away. "John, can you move this boulder? I can get in, Marion and Much probably could, but there's no way Tuck could, and the rest of you would have trouble."
"You're sure about this?" John used his staff for a lever and shifted the boulder, disclosing an entrance about the same size as a door. Robin was lighting a torch.
"Very sure," Anya said with a nod. "I imagine it will need to be cleaned out at this point. But you can see where the stream actually goes into it, so we'll have water all winter close to hand, and fish. There should be several usable chambers…" She started inside, but Robin stopped her.
"Normally, I would say ladies first," he said. "Not now. We don't know what animal may be using this place for a den. You carry the torch." He handed it over, fitted an arrow to his bowstring, and went in cautiously. Both he and John had to duck to enter. "Not much head room…"
"You can stand up now, Robin." Anya held the torch high. It showed a fair-sized chamber with rough walls, and three passageways branching off from the chamber further in. "Plenty of fresh air… There are various openings in the rocks along the walls, plus the stream's pathway. Space for sleeping, living, and storage…"
"It's warmer in here than outside," Robin agreed. "A little work, and we could be snugger in here than the Sheriff in Nottingham Castle. Good work, Anya."
"Will is going to be very disappointed," John said with a grin. "And very wet!"
The path back took them close to the main road through Sherwood. John tapped Robin's shoulder and pointed. A small party could be seen, riding along the road.
"Abbot Hugo," John whispered.
"On his way home from visiting his brother, maybe?" Robin grinned. "Shall we ask? You two stay out of sight, at least for now." He stepped out into the road.
"You!" Hugo de Rainault pulled up sharply.
"Good afternoon, Abbot Hugo." Robin bowed slightly, smiling mockingly. "Fine day for a ride."
"I am not on official business, wolfshead. We carry no great treasure," Hugo stated flatly, glaring at him, and trying not to let his glance go to the trees around him.
"But you never travel without a sizable purse, either, Abbot Hugo," Robin replied pleasantly. "Just hand it over and you can be on your way."
"All I have with me are donations for the poor box."
"And I promise to see to it that the poor receive it," Robin said.
Anya saw one of the guards start to bring up his crossbow. She shot without thinking, and her arrow pinned his hand to the wooden frame of his weapon.
"That was foolish." Robin shook his head. "You know you're surrounded, Hugo. The money? There's a wager at stake, so I really don't have all day to chat with you."
"Give him the box." Hugo motioned to the man riding just behind him. A small brass-bound coffer was dropped to the ground. John came out to retrieve it and vanished back into the trees. "Loxley came to a bloody end. What makes you think you won't?"
"Maybe I've seen into the future, Abbot," Robin taunted, bowing slightly again. "Have a pleasant journey." He backed off the path, then turned away. One soldier started after him, but another arrow from nowhere caught him square in the chest.
"Leave off, you fools!" Hugo ordered. "Do you want to get us all killed? Ride on! Back to Nottingham!"
"Where's Anya?" Robin demanded, rejoining John in a hidden nook well away from the road.
"She wanted a different angle for the second shot," John replied. "Climbed a tree for it." Anya dropped her bow down to him, then swung to the ground herself. Her face was pale. "All right?"
She nodded. "They're going as fast as Hugo's horse will move."
"I meant you." John gave her back her bow and shouldered the coffer. "Ye're as white as a ghost."
"I did say I'd never killed a man before," Anya reminded him. "Can we go now, so I am too busy to get sick?"
"Well, Will, looks like you are the one who'll be getting wet, after all!" Robin announced as he, Anya and John returned to camp. There was no sign of Much or Nasir. "There is a fine cave, right where Anya said it was. She didn't get lost, and I don't see Much, Nasir, or any fresh venison."
"You're joking." Will's jaw dropped. Robin, grinning, shook his head. "Aw hell!"
"Show him what Abbot Hugo gave us, John. Maybe it will improve his mood," Anya suggested, laughing.
"Robin! Robin!" Much came running into the camp wildly. His bow was missing, he had only two arrows left in his quiver, and he was frantic. There was no sign of Nasir. "They got 'im! Sheriff's men got Nasir!"
"How?" Robin demanded, catching the youth when he would have fallen.
"Little girls," Much gulped. "These two little girls, picking late berries by the edge of the fields. They weren't but children. Children don't think of kings and laws when they're hungry! Three of the Sheriff's men started bullying them, pushing them around. We couldn't have that, could we? I mean, little girls?"
"Of course not," Marion soothed.
"Nasir reckoned we'd draw 'em off the children first, so the horses wouldn't spook and trample one. Only, Nasir tripped, and they got him!" Much was close to tears. "Took him towards Nottingham!"
"What happened to the children?" John asked.
"Don't know. Nasir said 'run' and we all ran," Much said miserably.
"Take it easy, Much. We'll get him back," Robin promised. "They'll try using him as bait, so they won't be in a hurry to kill him."
"I can go to Nottingham," Anya said. "See if there's anything being said. Maybe even find a way to get him out."
Robin shook his head. "It's too dangerous."
"Not for me, it isn't. No one there has ever seen my face," Anya pointed out. "I'd just be another female in the market square to the Sheriff or his men."
Will nodded. "She has a point there."
"Tuck, you and Much go back and make sure those girls are safe," Robin ordered. "And find his bow. We'll meet you back here no later than tomorrow night."
"I need to make one stop before Nottingham," Anya said, as they all prepared to leave the camp. "Kirklees Abbey, probably."
"Why there?" Marion asked.
"I can get into Nottingham, but we still need to get Nasir out."
It was early morning when two nuns, hooded capes pulled close against the chill, and faces veiled, entered Nottingham. It didn't take them long to hear the news they were after.
"Go do some shopping, Sister Bernice." Anya had used charcoal to darken her brows and add age lines to her face. Mitts covered her hands, and she looked three times as wide as she actually was. "Might as well. Be at the gate in an hour. If we aren't there within two, get out."
"Robin is going to kill us for this," Marion warned.
"If it works, it will be worth facing him, now, won't it?" Anya grinned.
"Be careful!"
"Always, my child!" Anya chuckled, changing the accent and timbre of her voice. "Now, to the lion's den."
"My Lord Sheriff, there is a nun here to see you," a servant announced nervously. Robert de Rainault was still at his breakfast. "She is very insistent, my lord."
"A nun? Why would a nun come to see me?" The Sheriff was actually in a fairly good mood. His brother, after an aborted trip and a meeting with Robin Hood, had set out again with Gisburne as escort. He'd managed to once again escape King John's wrath, and he was still sheriff. Not to mention, he had one of Robin Hood's men in his dungeon, and a plan to trap the wolfshead.
"Because I go where God sends me, Lord Sheriff." Anya, the lacy veil covering her face, entered the room without waiting for permission. "I am Sister Magdalena, of the Holy Order of Mount Carmel," she said with a heavy accent. "You have an old man in your dungeons here. He has been here many years. I need to see him."
"I have several old men here." De Rainault eyed her. "You'll have to be more specific."
"His name, I think, is Thomas Joiner. That is, if he truly is the man I seek." Anya shrugged. "That is all I know of him, personally."
"What makes him so special, then?"
"To you? Nothing," she replied. "He is a Saxon. He once had a short temper. He is the father of a member of my Order. She is dying and feels she must make her peace with her earthly father, before she will be able to do so with our Heavenly Father." Anya negligently tossed a small bag of coin onto the table in front of him. "This, to let me check. If it is the man I seek, twice as much again for his release."
"All this for the sake of one sick old nun?" De Rainault looked sceptical, but he did pick up the bag and look inside.
"I go where God tells me to go and do what He tells me to do." Anya shrugged. "I do not expect you, a worldly man, to understand. Indeed, I do not ask you to try."
"Why do you wear that veil?" he demanded. As far as he could tell, this woman was shorter, far fatter, and older than Marion of Leaford, but he wasn't prepared to take the chance. Not with the Saracen in the dungeon.
"It is required of my Order," Anya replied easily. "We were founded in Istanbul. Keeping our faces covered so prevented trouble with those of the city who follow Islam. It worked well enough for two hundred years."
"I wish to see your face, Sister," the Sheriff said.
"It goes against my vows, Sheriff."
"If I don't see your face, you don't see the Saxon."
Anya pretended to consider it. She'd fully expected the demand, which was why Marion had not entered the castle with her. In any case, the black veils were not meant to protect her identity.
"Very well, then. But you, and you alone." She stepped closer and lifted the veil. With her hair hidden under the wimple, the careful lines, and the stones in her cheeks, she was fairly sure she looked a lot older than she was. She let the veil drop again. "Satisfied?"
Anya had to bite the inside of her lip as she followed a guard down into the dungeon level. The passageway was not wide, and it was dark and damp. It also stank.
She waited impatiently as the guard opened the grating to the worst pit in the place. Here was one nameless, crazy, half-forgotten old man. Here was where they'd put Nasir.
"Hurry it up, man! Or you may end up carrying me back up those stairs!" she snapped. She spit the pebbles out into her hand. Since she looked heavier than Tuck, the prospect of lugging her up two narrow flights of stairs wasn't about to appeal to anyone. "This place is making me ill!"
"Won't be a minute, Sister," the soldier promised, dragging back the heavy bolt. As soon as he'd lifted the grate, Anya leaned against the wall and kicked him into the pit.
"Bless you, my son!" she said cheerfully, looking down at his unconscious body. She grabbed a short ladder from nearby and let it rest right on the soldier's back. "Nasir? Come up, my fine heathen son! The flock misses you!"
"Anya?" Nasir scrambled up the ladder and then put it back where it belonged.
"Sister Magdalena," Anya corrected, pulling a set of robes from under her own. "Get these on, and mind you get the veil right. Wouldn't do, someone seeing a moustache on a nun."
The gate guard had just changed when the two of them joined Marion. She'd found a little donkey and cart and had bought many items they'd need to get through the winter. None of the new men on duty questioned it when three nuns and their cart left the town walls.
Robin, John and Will were waiting when they reached the trees.
"We send you in for information, and you not only come back with Nasir, but you took time to go to the market?" Robin arched an eyebrow at Marion and Anya.
"Well, I couldn't take Marion into the castle itself, even veiled," Anya said easily, removing the veil. "It seemed a waste of time not to have her do the shopping while I went after Nasir."
"For a Saracen, you make a good nun, Nasir," Will teased. Nasir shoved him lightly into John, who shoved him into a tree.
"Much and the children?" Nasir asked Robin as he stripped off the disguise.
. "Much is fine. He and Tuck went to check on the girls." Robin smiled
"That guard is going to wish he'd broken his neck in the fall, once the Sheriff finds out his prize bait is gone," Anya commented, tossing her disguise onto the cart.
"The Sheriff is also going to be looking for a certain old nun," Marion added.
"Yes, well, I think Sister Magdalena has earned her rest," Anya chuckled. "Maybe someday, I'll introduce the Sheriff to Sister Mary Ephante. There is a nightmare to make grown men cringe."
"Why?" John asked.
"She's older than dirt, walks with a cane, which she uses to beat piety into the blasphemous, stands taller than most men, and is as thin and wrinkled as a dried prune," Anya said cheerfully. "She's been to the Holy Land, and nothing gets in her way and survives."
"What? Are you going to shave John's beard off and put him in a wimple?" Will asked.
"Of course not."
"Well, you aren't tall enough…"
"Actually, I was thinking of putting you in the skirts, Will." She smiled sweetly as he started sputtering. Nasir grinned and the others laughed.
Robin shook his head in amusement. "Let's go home." He put his arm around Marion. "I see interesting times ahead of us."
"I think that's going to prove to be an understatement," Marion chuckled.