I Will Never Forget
Robin lay motionless. His bed felt cold, he reached out a hand and tried to feel something; someone. Not just anyone, a special somebody, his special someone, his childhood sweetheart, the love of his life, his wife; his deceased wife. He curled up trying to get warm, ironic that is was mid-summer, in fact the previous day had been the hottest day all year, but Robin was always cold, always distant. He gave up trying to sleep and instead lay on his side with his eyes wide open; gazing out into the outlaw's camp but not looking. His eyes saw her face instead, her pure, white skin, her soft, supple skin, and if he tried hard he could feel it on his palms again, he saw her eyes, as blue as the sky, as deep as the ocean, her perfect mouth, her kissable lips, her beautiful smile that lit up a room. And her hair, a hundred shades of brown, each strand slightly different but every shade absolutely perfect. And then a tear rolled down his cheek, for they were just memories and memories are never quite the same, and in time they fade, she would become a whisper of herself, a thought remembered too many times, a figure of the past, a woman that was no more. The truth hit him hard; she was no more, she was gone, a fact of life; he still struggled to come to terms with. And in time she would be merely a figment of his imagination.
What Robin didn't realise is that she would never be forgotten, she would always be beloved, the woman that defied society's rules, someone who stood up to the sheriff, who fought oppression. To many she was a hero – a heroine in fact – she touched people's lives in a special way, she made them stronger, gave them the power to believe in themselves, she gave them trust and hope – two things England was short of. It was not only Robin that had lost someone that day, he was not the only one that grieved, but possibly the only one that cried themselves to sleep at night, the only one who was haunted by memories of her death, the only one whose dreams replayed the moment of the sword cutting her stomach.
He wrenched himself out of bed, and went through the motions of putting on his clothes, tidying his bed, grabbing a sword and leaving the camp. He headed off to his favourite spot, he walked like a robot, not showing any emotion but inside he felt like a wreck. He made his way to his destination and did something that he had never done before. He let loose. All his caught up emotions, all his pretending, all his tears and anger he let out in one big scream, a cry – for help perhaps or comfort. He fell to his knees and released it all, gulping as the last noise left his mouth. And for the first time since her death, he felt alive; he felt emotions, he felt…human.
He crossed his legs and sat on the floor, in the exact same spot where he had bent down on one knee all those months ago, he hadn't meant to come to the exact same spot, just near the tree was good, but it was like a magnet, he was attracted to the spot and it was here were he sat and remembered the proposal. "Together we're stronger" he'd said, but now he was alone, surely that made him weaker, or was she still with him in spirit? A gust of wind blew and leaves scattered further down the forest path, Robin looked at the grave they had dug together, now old, and dirty, "Robin of every single man in the world you are the only one who would propose over a fresh grave" she'd said, he remembered his face then, he had questioned whether that was a no, he had doubted her response, how foolish, he thought now. "It works both ways; I look after my bow because it protects and looks after me" the words echoed in his mind, he hadn't looked after his 'bow'; he hadn't looked after her, had he? He had not fulfilled his promise to her father, he had not done what he had set out to do, had not completed his task, but then he had not done a lot of things he had wished, he had not had the grand, white wedding, that he had envisaged, with their friends surrounding them; their nearest and dearest. He had not taken her in his arms and brought her to his bed in Locksley Manor, he had not held her hand in labour like he thought he would, he had not been a father to many; he did not have the children he dreamt of – a son and two daughters – and he never would, because he could never love a woman in the way he had loved her. He had wanted to grow old with her, to wake up every morning with her by his side, and fall asleep every night with her lying next to him, to say 'I love you' everyday and kiss her at every opportunity, to hold her hand and stand together and face the world.
He thought that they would die together; old and satisfied; that they would fall asleep wrapped in each others arms and never wake up, when they had achieved all their hopes and dreams. When they had restored England and experienced all there was to experience in life. Instead Robin sat here alone, a small figure in a huge forest, the best archer in the world, England's greatest hope, Nottingham's hero but only half of an English legend.
Memories flooded back to him; the first time he saw her after his absence, the way she had held her bow taught and put him in his place, the way she had set the score and given him the cold shoulder, she had made a barrier; put up a wall. The countless times she saved his life; her quick thinking and her wittiness. Her acceptance of Guy's proposal, the way they stared at each other through the window, so close yet so far, on opposite sides of a barrier, a barrier that neither could cross, neither could break through. "The lives that we chose, always different directions" Robin shook his head, he had not wanted to choose this life, it was not where he had wanted to end up, but his small decisions, his choices had lead him here. Perhaps even when they were together they were following different paths, Robin thought they were on the same track, maybe not so.
But then he remembered the way he had saved her from her wedding, provided her with an escape, and the way they had kissed, after all those years, the way they had fought together for a better England, The Outlaws and the Nightwatchman fighting as one. And then Robin thought differently; they had been on the same track, following the same path, just in different ways perhaps.
It was not all about the big things but more the little things, a secret kiss shared between the two behind closed doors, a ride shared together with her arms wrapped round his waist, a look between lovers – secret lovers. It was these small things that made the difference; that assured Robin that the two of them were together, were following the same path, were in the same direction. It was these small actions that meant the most and made the bigger picture.
For all the things in his life he had done, it was going to war he regretted most, it's not a place you find glory and certainly not a place you find love, you cannot trust all those who are fighting and for many men there is no hope. War is a little boy's dream; fighting for his country, saluting his king, making a better world. But once that little boy goes to war his dreams are ripped apart and instead he becomes a cold man. War is a bloodthirsty place where even your closest friends and allies can turn against you. Robin had seen a thousand horrors, hundreds of deaths, a million crimes and plenty of broken men. Of the thousands that leave, few return, and what they return to is not a happy welcome, it is a country deprived of their king, of their men, mothers who have lost their sons, wives standing alone with no husband, children without a father. But Robin did not even have a wife to return to, children to gather up in his arms, parents to hug, but he had Locksley, a best friend and his people, he was wealthy and lucky, but lacked the one thing he desired most; a family.
Perhaps the outlaws had become his family; but one had died at the sheriff's hand, he had been betrayed by another, and had left two in the holy land. But there was one; someone who had been an outlaw for a little time; but a great time, it was her he missed the most, of course it was. A betrayal he could forgive and he could ask for the return of the others. But a death is irreversible, you cannot change that, she had fought like a true hero; until the bitter end. But it was in confessing her love for him; Robin, that she made her fatal mistake, that she fell at the final hurdle. And it was this single fact that was the hardest to comprehend, it was that simple sentence; four words – "I love Robin Hood" – that were the words you are supposed to feel the most joyous about, but instead you feel bitter about. When someone utters the words 'I love you' you are supposed to jump with joy and smile with glee, Robin cried with sadness. It was not the way it was supposed to be. But in life you cannot predict what will happen, there are twists in fate, unexpected turns and unseen possibilities, opportunities you did not believe existed and choices you had not planned to make. And perhaps in wishing for your life to turn out a certain way you build yourself up – you build up these fantasies and dreams, only for them to come crashing at your feet. And you are left more heart-broken then you thought possible.
But now Robin saw things from a different perspective, he stopped wallowing in self-pity and depression and tried to see things in a better light. No, they had not had the wedding they had dreamt of, or the children that they had talked of, but they had exchanged vows, they had been husband and wife for a fleeting moment, but what a moment it was, and she had died an honest woman, perhaps that was best. And in time Robin would see her again, but in the meanwhile, instead of wishing away his days he should make use of them, strive to help England, to do as she would have wished. Another gust of wind blew down the forest and this time a leaf fell into his lap, a perfectly symmetrical leaf, except for a slight cut on the left hand side, just like us, Robin thought, perfect together apart from one flaw; Time.
He would never forget her, no one expected him too, and he would not ever get over her, she would always remain a part of his life, but he now realised that she could become the driving force in his new life; he was still on the same path, but now it was clearer, the glass was not half empty, but half full. Robin stood up and slid the leaf gently into his pocket, ensuring it did not get creased or crumpled. And he spoke the words that had been running through his mind for a long time, he whispered them, almost nervously, and perhaps he spoke them just for himself rather than to anyone.
"I will never forget.
I will never forget the moments we had, the kisses we shared, the nights that we slept under the stars, the tears that we wept, the letters we wrote, the words that we spoke, the vows that we took. I will never forget.
The love that we shared.
The life we were supposed to live.
The moment you left me.
I will never forget."
And for the first time in what felt like years, he smiled, it was not a grin, but it was a smile, and for now that would do. And so he set off, back to camp, on the right path, in the right direction with a purpose, an incentive and a motive. To carry on fighting oppression, to show England's people that it was not over, that hope is still there. And he would carry on for her.
For Marian.