Chapter One

Marian:

Unlike Robin, I never wanted recognition. If I had wanted glory, I would have disguised myself as a man and gone east in the Crusades. No, my battle was on the home front although I didn't plan it to be so.

I was sixteen years old when the people of Locksley became beggars. Robbed by their own sheriff disguised under the name of taxes. It disgusted me. But I couldn't see much I could do about it.

I remember the night perfectly. It was cold and wet thanks to an early spring rain. How I love the rain. It brings me such peace to go out walking in it. I had been walking back from visiting a sick elderly widow who had been a close family friend when I saw him. One of the sheriff's goons. Guy of Gisborne. His horse waited a few yards away as he explained to a sobbing single mother why taxes had been raised and collected for the second time that month.

"It's all for the king," he said. "Soldiers in the Holy Land need more food and food costs money."

I hid behind the corner of the house as I listened.

"What about my children?" The woman cried. "What are they going to eat?"

"I don't decide the numbers," Sir Guy said calmly, "I just collect the taxes."

By this time, Guy's horse had noticed me and had taken a few steps in my direction.

Gisborne was too busy reasoning with the mother to notice when I walked out into the open street to meet the horse.

"Shh" I whispered, petting the creature's mane.

The horse stood still as I quietly fit my foot into the left stirrup and hoisted myself into the saddle.

Once I was seated, Guy had collected the gold he needed and had turned around to notice me.

I pounded my heals into the horse's side and the animal galloped down the street as Guy ran, yelling, after us.

I refused to slow down until I was well out of town and into the woods. How could I return the horse to the stables without being recognized? After all, I had just broken the law and thus would face at least an afternoon in the stocks as punishment.

Then, an idea struck me.

I looked into the saddle bag. Just as I had suspected, it was filled with half pence and an occasional piece of silver. After ripping some of the fabric from my cloak, I removed the money from the saddlebag and placed it in the center of the fabric. I tied the bundle in a knot and held it in my fist. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it, but I knew I couldn't let the Sheriff keep it.

I whispered to the horse to "go home" and with no questioning looks, it galloped all the way back to the stables where it was probably met by a very confused farm boy.

Money in hand, I made my way back towards the village. I stayed hidden by shadows just in case Gisborne was still looking for me. Sometime before the moon set, I climbed back in through my window at home. I would hem my cloak in the morning. As for the money, I already had a few ideas in mind.