Introducing Marigold, her Origins and Upbringing

Everyone knows about Marian, who was the very nice daughter of Sir Edward, but nobody knows that she had an identical twin sister who was just like her in every way but not nice in all. In fact, she was rather evil.

How did such a monstrosity occur? I will not explain it by going back to another monstrosity, the origin story of the animosity between Guy and Robin, because that is an abomination and should not exist. Let's just say that Edward and his lady wife were on a romantic trip to Scotland when the twins were born, and realizing very soon that their second daughter, was a regular bad one, they stuck her with the unoriginal name of Mary (Literally stuck, as they pinned it on her) and left her at a convent door, hoping to never hear from her again.

Mary didn't remain Mary for long. As a very young child, she had heard that there was a flower growing in the convent garden called a marigold, and though she didn't go look at it and she didn't care to, she really, truly loved gold, so she insisted on this name for herself, would answer to no other and was henceforth Marigold. The nuns whispered that it wasn't a real, Christian name, but she was hardly a Christian child, wild and dirty, and even prone to hissing as she was, so they let it stand.

While medieval nuns were known for their learning, they were somewhat ignorant of practical life, so Mary, who scrambled on the rooftops spying on people, much like a beloved outlaw, grew far more educated than them in certain areas and could easily outwit them.

As she grew slightly older she learned to alter her techniques. She let go of her early ferocity and even lost interest in biting the elders and blowing out the sacramental candles. She learned to brush her hair, hold a prayer book, and take advantage of her large blue eyes to warm the hearts of the women around her. While she still practiced her flips and beating up the smaller children on occasional outside journeys, and even wielding a katana, she was to the convent, for a few years at least, a child who had been cleansed of a devil, and was now the image of divine grace. Inside she very much kept the need to acquire, plot and gain.

Among the sterner sort she had stealthier techniques- the Abbess, Mary Agnes, most certainly had strong feelings for a certain priest, and he seemed to reciprocate them. So she crept over Mary Agnes's cell one night to see them rolled up together, and when they saw the long, wavy brown hair falling out the top the top of the window, and the blue eyes peeping, they fell into a mutual scream.

In short time, somewhat after as the two had been assured that it was not indeed a demon, but a seven year old girl, Marigold was relieved of the majority of her chores and was allowed to dress in finery unheard of for a novice, including a certain knit jacket called a cardigan, which the others found very bizarre and out of place. There was some bitterness between Mary Agnes and her young charge, but as the young girl grew, the Abbess, who also had evil instincts, found in her a kindred spirit and they played all sorts of delightful pranks on the nuns and novices alike. Marigold was no longer a little angel in their eyes, but it hardly mattered at she held a seat of power within the convent that she wielded with the utmost ruthlessness.

As Marigold grew into a lovely teenager, she did not take holy orders. The Abbess found other uses for her, or rather Marigold found them for herself, as they were, she often reminded the Abbess, her ideas. She would lure visiting Bishops into precarious positions, and the Abbess would happen upon them and begin to wail. She had a very guttural and loud wail or which she was very proud. The Bishop would beg for her to quiet herself, after which she would cry all the louder. Marigold would whisper that the sacristy was in need of new vestments, that the chapel was very poorly adorned and some new carvings would do very nicely, or perhaps some frankincense or myrrh would really be in order. It didn't really matter what she asked for because it came down to one thing: gold coins, which the Bishop was always delighted to donate a the holy convent which he held in such esteem.

In such a way Mary Agnes and Marigold had acquired quite a hoard, and the Abbess almost trusted her to look after it. Marigold spent many a happy hour rummaging through and counting the gold pieces under Mary Agnes's watchful eye. The older lady was discreet enough to ignore her cackling.

Around her twentieth year Marigold began to hear whispers of her own parentage. That she was not a spawn of the devil, as she had often been called by various nuns, though she would not have minded as the devil was said to be quite wealthy. But she was something better- the daughter of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Though she enjoyed tormenting the nuns of the convent, there were only so many Bishops to suck dry, and she wished for a new challenge. Nottingham, she had often heard, was a big town with lots of fat wealthy people walking around, which meant more gold than she could imagine, and it would be something to have so much power over all the people. True, it was her father who wielded the power, but she could see to that. She wasn't oversensitive and didn't worry why her father abandoned her, but she was pretty sure it was his job to take her back, and if he didn't, there would be hell to pay.

So sometime into the second season, I mean, on her 22st birthday, she had cake and ate it too so to speak. That is, she had cake, packed up a good portion of it, along with the entirety of the gold she had stocked up with Abbess, scrambled along the convent roof to the walls. She had sent a letter ahead to the Sheriff of Nottingham, claiming that his dear daughter that he was so cruelly separated from, lived still, and was eager to see him. Naturally, as in all stories like this, it never reached him.

Marigold was quite agile, and she thought as she slipped down a rope off the convent wall that surely there was no girl in Nottinghamshire as agile and capable of anachronistic martial arts as she was, and no girl in Nottinghamshire as pretty as she was.

Naturally, we know she was wrong.

In Which Marigold Finally Arrives on Set and I Abuse My Thesaurus

It was a bright and sunny morning when Marigold rode into Nottingham on a fine bay she had 'borrowed'. She had borrowed things from her early years, and so when she heard that there were professional borrowers, also known as thieves, on the road, she was not worried. But when she learned they borrowed ten percent of a traveler's goods, she determined to defend herself with her taekwondo skills if necessary.

She four outlaws stumbled over the hill as she walked by, and she shot them a brilliant smile. To her surprise, one of them lumbered over, an even bigger grin on his face. He reached his hands toward her waist to help her off her mount, but she shook her head.

"For shame, vagrant!" She said, and though her words were harsh, her tone was sweet. The scruffy ruffian blushed.

"You won't stop for a while? Damned Sheriff." The unkempt outlaw shook his tawny head. She wondered whether to be offended on behalf of her father, but she could get her revenge later. Maybe they had a secret lair, with riches. And the unwashed thief was rather attractive, in a squirrely way, with a tie around his neck, and a sparse beard.

"A kiss then?" Asked the grungy bandit, his lip curling into a smile.

Marigold shrugged. This was much easier than giving him money, and far easier than taekwondo, which had required years of secret practice in the vestry along with Jujitsu and a dash of Parkour. She shrugged and leaned down to kiss him, and it was pretty fun too, kissing this smelly pillager. She held one hand on the saddle, and sunk deeper into the kiss, caressing his tongue with hers, in the usual way, until the begrimed raider jumped back, almost frightened.

His cheeks were bright red under their tan, and the others stood with their mouths open.

"Where did you learn to do that!" cried the disheveled plunderer in alarm. Marigold rolled her eyes. What kind of country was this? Were the thieves in Nottingham chaster than the priests in Scotland? She was half tempted to hop down and give him a lesson, if only to improve the experience of the other hapless young ladies he met on the road.

He glowered. "It was Guy, wasn't it?" The other outlaws groaned, as though they had been through this before.

"Oh, a guy? Yes, who else?" She said, flipping her head. She then smiled at the pretty Saracen girl, dressed as delightfully anachronistically as she was. "Or perhaps it was a girl." She blew her a kiss as she rode away.

"MARIAN!" screamed the grubby pilferer. It had begun to rain, and she put hood over her head, but couldn't resist peeking behind her. The dirty highwayman was on his knees, and looked dramatic indeed, screaming some name and raising his fists to the sky. The other outlaws just looked embarrassed.

She shrugged and continued on her way. He was clearly confused, which was flattering. She was very good at kissing.

In Which a Beautiful Friendship is Formed

Now her horse was stabled at a nearby inn, and she marched up the steps of the castle. Marigold had not trusted anyone with her treasure, and so she was forced to wear a bustle. The bag of gold bounced against her backside when she walked, and she had to take tiny, mincing steps to prevent it from jingling. She also had her Katana somewhere back there, ready to slice these guards if they crossed her.

But they simply murmured, "Milady," and let her through. She inched into the courtyard, making a tiny sound like a single bell with each step, but in spite of her annoyance, she was satisfied at her new home. Of course, it could do with some more decorations. She would see to the interior, but first she had to meet her dad.

"Excuse me, I need to speak to the Sheriff," she said to the nearest guard. He looked at her dubiously. "Please?" she added sweetly. He sighed.

"Come along, milady."

They went up some stairs-dusty!-and through a hall-spiderwebs!-and around a corner- too damp!- until they reached two thick wooden doors. She was becoming less sure of her new home by the moment.

The guard opened the door and slipped her through before running away. Marigold snorted. He was a rude fellow, and she would see that her father punished him.

She stood in a chamber, far more attractive than any she had seen in this building, with carpeting and some lovely birdcages, and felt at ease. She could suggest a few changes, but this was her dad's chamber. She was far more concerned with her own rooms.

A man sat before her in steady conference with another. Both had their heads lowered and were whispering.

"Sheriff!" she shouted, to make sure she had the right man.

A balding man with a white goatee lifted his head. He was dressed in fine black velvet. He grinned, and a single tooth sparkled. A shiver went down her spine. She had never seen anything so gloriously decadent. And this, her own father!

"I wish to-"

"Eh, eh, eh! Business first. You- wait there." He pointed a gloved finger at her, and she frowned. She had hoped he would be more enthusiastic, but she was too breathless with excitement to meet this interesting man to complain.

He whispered for a short while with the man before him, a very slim man with an upright bearing, dressed in fine satin robes. Then, lifting from his chair, the Sheriff grinned. "Let's inspect the goods, shall we?"

The slim man nodded and the door opened. Four burly guards carried in two giant chests. The Sheriff strutted oover, kicked them open, and ran his fingers through the fortune inside.

"Looks like we've made a bargain." The slim man smiled.

"But what's this?" said the Sheriff, digging his hand deep into the bottom recesses of the chest and pulling out a coin and chomping at it. He put his hand on his chest in mock alarm. "Copper? Are you trying to cheat me, Baron?"

The man protested in vain, but the Sheriff tutted, and the Baron was dragged away by the guards. Marigold clapped at the fine performance. "How splendid," she cried.

The Sheriff tilted his eyebrow at her. He sat down and settled into his chair, picked up his pen, and dipped it in ink.

Marigold cleared her throat.

"Are you still there, then?" he said, irritated. "What is it?"

Marigold was now furious, but it was still very important to her to make a good impression. "I thought you would be happy to see me!"

The Sheriff tilted his head in amused bafflement. "And why is that? Have you got something for me? Hood's head perhaps?" And he smiled, his tooth glittering.

"No…," she said. "I'm afraid I didn't bring a gift." She thought of the bag of gold at her rump, but it hadn't come to straights so dire yet.

"Buuut-" she smiled sweetly. "I'm sure you've heard of my arrival."

"If only my guards were so astute."

"And I would really like to spend time with you."

He laughed and shook his head. "Try your leper's tricks on Gisborne. You'll have better luck."

She frowned, and slipped into the chair opposite him. Marigold grit her teeth as she felt her gold crunch under her, and readjusted herself. She placed her hand on his, and he was too surprised to move it. "I'm not angry at you, you know. For not being there for me when I grew up."

"Well, I should hope not!"

"But I think we should make up for it. Get to know one another. I can help you." She giggled. "I saw what you did with that man, there. A very good trick!"

He shrugged. "I make do where I can."

"I have many good ideas- for getting gold. I have never loved anything so much!"

The Sheriff's nose scrunched up, and she giggled again. "I think many people love gold for many reasons, but I love it for itself." She hugged herself. "So shiny, and pretty, and it makes me feel, well, be- rich!"

She sighed sadly. "The truth is, I've been surrounded by weak people my entire life. Maybe powerful in title, but not clever enough to get me what I want." She held back tears.

"You mean-the crusty one?"

She scrunched her brows. She forgot whether she had mentioned the Abbess in her letter, but crusty was an appropriate appellation. "Yes, that went well for a while. But it's like an old horse- when it won't work for you anymore, you need to put it out of its misery."

The Sheriff nodded, and mused. "Very true."

"I have many talents, and they're not being put to use in the way that I want. I can't tell you how excited I am about living here."

"You are?" said the Sheriff.

"Oh yes, there seemed to be problems at first, but it's really a beautiful place if only we can fix it up a bit- plus we can finally live together!" She pressed her hand to her heart eagerly.

The Sheriff was generally bewildered. This was no doubt a leper's trick, but he was generally good at seeing through those. Marian seemed oddly sincere. He knew women were fickle, and she likely enjoyed living in a big castle and having expensive things all around her. The father thing had always struck him as a bit off. Who was that devoted to anybody?

He studied her, and she smiled brightly back at him. He knew she was clever, crafty even, and with her looks- she could be of great use to him. He needed to reward this enthusiasm, and yet he couldn't let her think he was easily deceived.

He stood up and stroked his beard. He wandered to his skulls, which always calmed him.

"Are those yours?" she said eagerly. "Did you know them?"

"Some were great friends of mine. Regrettably-" he pouted. "They disappointed me."

"Yes, old friends can be very-disappointing," she said, rising from her chair.

"I am pleased to see this enthusiasm. And I will see you are fitted with chambers befitting your use to me, Mari-"he started.

"With gold curtains?' She interrupted eagerly.

He tutted. "Now let's not get too hasty. You serve me well, and you will be rewarded."

She threw her arms around him and his eyes bulged in shock. "We are going to be so rich! This is the happiest day of my life!" Marigold cried.

"Very well," he said, pushing her away with the tips of his fingers. "Save the leper tricks for Gisborne."

"Gisborne?" she asked. She didn't know what 'leper tricks' were. No doubt some Nottingham slang. But she would need to confer with this man. "Where can I find him?"

He shrugged and waved his hand. "Just follow the scent of leather and brooding. You'll find it. He'll see that you're fitted with better chambers. But no gold yet!"

Marigold sighed as she slipped to the door. "It never felt right with-" she put her hands in quotations marks -"'The crusty one.' But now I finally feel like I belong somewhere, Papa. Can I call you Papa?"

The Sheriff's put his finger up, opened his mouth and then closed it. "That's a bit-" he started.

She laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."