The memory of what happened immediately after was a blur. Friar Tuck, led me out of Grimston while Robin left and the rest of the men were trying to gather the Wickam villagers together.
"Don't you worry," Tuck assured me. "He'll soon be back and then we can help you with Gisburne."
It wasn't until we had left the abbey and walked some way with the Wickam villagers that some of my shock dissipated but none of my anger. Robin's men made camp in the forest that night, the boy, Much, returned with a few puny hares that must have been runts of the litter. As our meal slowly roasted over the fire, Robin's men asked me about Gisburne, but I was unable to speak more of what happened, at least not that night. I only told them briefly of my time with the Wolf Warriors and what became of my family. But Guy still remained an open wound within me.
Before the sun rose, we awoke and continued to trudge our way to Wickam. I had thought of leaving Robin's men and finding my own way, but my thoughts were still blurred and I remained uncertain of where my path now was. Regardless, I remained far behind the traveling villagers, just keeping them in sight ahead of me. I had heard their whispers and reproachful looks when I came too close and preferred staying away from them.
After many long hours in the hot sun and feet so sore I barely felt I could walk more on them, I saw a small village on the horizon. The weary travelers suddenly became very animated, crying for joy and hugging one another. They had arrived home. I thought of continuing my journey alone as I had no use for Wickam, but Tuck spied me still on the road and approached me.
"It'll be nightfall soon and not safe to be on the road," said the friar. "Wherever you're going, it's best to do so on a full stomach and a good night's sleep."
I was hesitant to follow Tuck, still worried I'd not be welcome in the village, but he insisted and gently touched my arm, leading me away from the road. Already I could smell baking bread and saw a basket of ripe apples set upon a long table set outside. I was tired and very hungry after so long a journey, but I didn't approach the food or dare to come any closer to the villagers. Already venomous looks dug into me like knives. A woman with braided red hair and a plain brown dress glared at me as I passed by. A young maiden nudged her younger brother away from me and then spat in my direction.
"She's one of them," I heard a man whisper, the anger in his voice barely masked.
I realized I did look different from all of them. My hair was disheveled and hung in frizzy knots down my back. All I wore was a dirty and ragged dress and the wolf pelt. It was not out of love for smelly fur pelt I kept it, but necessity as the nights were cold and I used it as blanket to cover me from the chill.
The angry whispers and hate-filled stares grew as I walked through the village. I was ready to turn and leave. I felt at any moment they'd grab whatever weapon they found at hand and kill me in revenge against the Wolf Warriors who had caused them so much pain. But Tuck stopped me and then turned to the Wickam people.
"This is Anne of Halam. She was abducted, just like many of you and suffered under Gulnar, just as you have. She is not responsible for what was done to you. If anything, this poor child needs to be comforted and cared for."
Although I appreciated what Tuck was doing, even worse than dealing with hatred was pity. I didn't want them looking at me for the wretched, outcast creature I now was. Some of the women's looks softened, but not that many, although the whispering ceased. Tuck tried to lead me to the table to sit down and eat with the rest of them, but all I could muster the courage for was to take a piece of bread and an apple and to eat it away from the feasting table.
I was busy finishing my apple, trying to shove the memory of feeding Guy apple slices out of my mind, when I heard the soft rustling of grass behind me. I turned quickly around and instinctively my hand gripped the handle of my knife in its sheath. I saw it was one of the Wickam women. From the look of her she was a woman who had seen over 30 summers, but hardship had begun to age her. Her brunette hair was almost as disheveled as mine and she wore a simple coarse-woven beige gown over a brown shift.
"Listen, I know you were treated badly when you arrived," she said. "We didn't know that such horrible things happened to you. Will you not come back?"
I was tempted, but then shook my head.
"I think it's better if I stay here. It makes it easier for all of us."
The woman's face set in determination.
"Now what kind of nonsense is that? Here, at least let's get you cleaned up."
She gently took my hand, which was still sticky from the apple I had eaten and led me to the village well, where she drew up a bucket of water for me to wash in. I was grateful, but also felt somewhat guilty she was going through so much trouble for me. But the fresh, cool water felt good and it was wonderful to wash some of the dirt and grime away that had embedded in my skin as a she-wolf. When I was done cleaning, she brought me a plain, faded white gown with a dark brown shift, much like what she wore, and a black sash to tie around the waist.
"I'm afraid it's not much, but I won't be needing this dress. It's for a slimmer waist – before I had my son. You can take it."
I felt this was too generous of her and hesitated to except the gift, but she insisted it had been languishing in her chest and would just become food for moths if I didn't accept it. She brought me into her house to dress and as I slipped on the clean gown and tied the sash about my waist, I felt that the clothing was the richest, most beautiful thing I had ever owned.
I had not worn such clothing since before I was taken by the Wolf Warriors. They took the dress my mother had made for me and laughing, burned it while the she-wolves dressed me in a rough-woven gown and hung the wolf skins upon me. I remembered when I first saw Guy dressed as a Wolf Warrior; I wondered if they too had humiliated him, stripped him of his beautiful blue robes and destroyed them before his eyes before they forced him into barbaric clothing and coarse fur.
I looked around to see if there was something I could see my reflection in, but seeing nothing available, I slowly slipped out my knife and gazed at the shifting reflection along the blade. I almost looked like the woman I once knew, the young, naïve girl who had spent all her life in the tiny village of Halam.
I gazed up at the kind woman with nothing but gratitude in my heart.
"It's beautiful, thank you – uh …" I just realized I had accepted her hospitality and her gift and never knew her name.
"I'm Alison, wife to Edward of Wickam," she said, with a smile.
Later, Robin rode into Wickam and spoke to his men, telling them Herne had been saved – whoever that was – and that Gulnar's creature had also been destroyed.
I asked him about this creature of Gulnar and was amazed to hear how the clay figure I had heard Gulnar was obsessively working on had been transformed into Robin's double. I knew Gulnar's powers among the dark gods were strong, but I never realized he was capable of bringing to life such a vile creature. But then how many times had I suspected Gulnar was somehow clouding the Wolf Warriors' minds with madness and blood-lust?
But then why was I different – why was Guy different? We had not been completely under Gulnar's sway, although early on I had felt his poison and could see it slowly working its evil in Guy, taking root upon his desire for revenge. Even as I too felt anger, even hatred toward Guy, I wondered as we sat at the communal table in Wickam, had Guy spared his lord so he could trade the sheriff's death for his own? Or maybe he planned a slower, bitterer form of revenge than the sheriff's death? I had no way of knowing.
That night, exhaustion began to take its toll on me. Alison of Wickam was kind enough to offer me a place within her small home to sleep, but I felt I already had accepted too much of her kindness. I slept just outside Wickam, at the periphery of the forest. But as tired as I was, I never fell into a deep sleep. I would awake at any slight sound and still did not feel safe, even with the kindness of Alison or the courtesy of Robin and his men.
The faint rose glow of the sun filled the sky when I awoke to the soft sound of footsteps in the grass. Most of Robin's men were asleep within the forest around a low-burning campfire while Nasir sat up on watch. Robin Hood was walking away from the camp toward a sleek chestnut horse, which was tethered to a young maple tree. I slowly rose from the ground, my bones and muscles aching from the chill and the stones and twigs that had somehow dug into me during the night.
"Where are you going," I asked.
Robin turned, somewhat surprised to see I was awake.
"Now that everyone is safe, I am going to see Marion. She was injured and had to stay at the abbey." Robin's eyes turned away, concern on his face. "I hope she is all right."
"I am sure she is," I said. "From all the tales I've heard, she's as strong as she is beautiful."
Robin looked at me, a dimple lightly whisking across his cheek as he smiled.
"Then the tales are correct, although no tale could accurately describe her beauty or her courage. She's extraordinary. I wish she was here – she could help you, I'm sure."
"I imagine she could," I said softly.
"But soon enough you'll be able to meet her in person," said Robin, shaking himself from whatever dream or memory he was in. "We are now home. You are welcome to stay here with us until you find what road you must take."
"I thank you … I still don't know where I am to go, but I doubt I will tarry here for long."
"If you decide to leave, I wish you a safe journey."
Robin Hood held out his hand and I clasped it in my own. He gave me a brief smile, then turned to his horse, preparing it for the journey ahead.
Robin's men decided to stay close to Wickam and the road. We rested and I spent some time with Alison and Edward of Wickam. Edward told me of the cruelty they had experienced at Gisburne's hand, how his son had been kidnapped and his wife taken as prisoner without a moment's remorse from Guy. I wondered then if I truly had been wrong all along about Gisburne that his kindness and love were indeed an act and his coldness and anger were his true nature. I wondered if Guy planned to attack Robin or to persecute Wickam, how I would react? Once I wanted to defend him with my life, but now my embittered heart wanted to hurt him.
Two days and a night passed by Wickam. The afternoon of the third day, we saw a man leading a chestnut horse with children riding upon it. Robin's men were happy to see him again, but I saw no joy in the face of the young man.
"I've lost her, John," Robin said to the large man who was only known as Little John. "We all have.
I kept a distance from Robin and his men as he related the sad story of Marion refusing to join them and remaining as a cloistered nun at Halsted Abbey. The men remained silent and the camp took the attitude of mourning a dear friend who was now gone. The men stayed close to the fire, as if trying to replace the light of the fire with the light Marion must have brought to them.
As his men settled in, Robin slowly wandered away from the camp and I followed him, part out of curiosity and part pity. He didn't seem to be going in any set direction or destination and he only finally stopped to rest upon a fallen log near the river's edge. Willows swayed along the bank and sparrows twittered amongst the branches. Robin stared across the river, deep in thought, then suddenly picked up a stone and angrily hurled it into the river. The stone splashed into the water with a loud plunk and crows erupted from the trees across the bank, cawing loudly.
He turned, supposedly to grab another stone to hurl into the water, but then heavily sighed and covered his face with his hand. I thought I saw him tremble and wondered if he was weeping. I suddenly felt guilt at intruding on his privacy and turned to return to the camp. A twig snapped beneath my foot and Robin suddenly looked up. He reached for his bow and demanded:
"Who's there?"
Sheepishly, I walked out from the trees and felt embarrassed he had caught me spying.
"Anne! Why did you leave the camp? You should go back."
"I'm sorry, I just was wondering where you were going," I said.
Robin sighed and lowered his bow, sadness still etched on his face. I turned to walk back into the trees, but Robin then said:
"No, stay a moment. I'll walk you back. These woods can be unsafe and I don't want you to get lost."
I stood and looked at the young man. I wondered if I should sit next to him or remain where I was.
"I haven't said it yet, but I'm sorry to hear about Marion," I said.
Robin didn't look at me, but gazed out at the river.
"I was surprised to hear she wasn't coming back," I said softly. "I had heard tales of the great love Marion has for Robin, that she'd never leave his side."
The young man didn't even look at me, but continued to gaze out into the water.
"That would be the 'other' Robin," he sighed. "She was married once – to Robin of Loxley – that was her first and probably her only love … She'd never leave Loxley, not for anything."
He looked away from the gently flowing water and gazed instead at his muddied boots. I felt such sorrow for him; I knew how devastating a broken heart could be, especially when you believed the person you loved would be with you forever. I took a few steps toward him.
"I don't know if this is any consolation, but women's hearts change," I said.
"I hope so. Although you don't know Marion." Robin sadly smiled. "She can be quite stubborn at times."
I slowly walked toward the log and sat down at its edge.
"It seems that Gulnar had his revenge after all," said Robin. "The creature he made, who looked like me – Marion found him dead and thought I was the one who had been killed. That was why she won't leave Halsted … I shouldn't blame her for it. One day I will be killed … and can't change that. I should want her to be happy. She shouldn't live in fear of the day I won't return."
"I can understand how she feels," I sighed. "But Love doesn't work that way. Even if you lock yourself away in some distant abbey or try to close off your heart, Love still can find you."
Robin turned toward me, sadness in his gray eyes.
"I know Love found me," I said. "I wasn't looking for it – I didn't even desire it, but when it came to me, it wouldn't let go."
Robin stared at me, slow knowing growing in his eyes.
"You loved Gisburne, didn't you," he asked softly.
"I thought I did," I said. "And I thought he loved me."
Robin slowly nodded.
"I know I wasn't expecting to fall in love with Marion, not when I first saw her," said Robin, a sad smile his face. "She was so beautiful and when I saw her dance … I knew she was the only woman I could love. I would sacrifice my life for hers."
I smiled. "She is fortunate to have someone who loves her so … My meeting with Gisburne wasn't sweet or romantic. I thought he was an arrogant fool!"
Robin laughed, amusement in his eyes.
"And now," he asked.
"I still think he's an arrogant fool! Now I wonder if his love was just an act, to get what he wanted from me."
"Well, Gisburne is my enemy," said Robin. "He's angry, even cruel, but Gisburne is a poor actor. He is unable to hide anything … And when he wants something, he pursues it, often without thought of the consequence."
I looked at the young man in surprise.
"All I know is when we fought Gulnar's men, they were ready to kill Gisburne," Robin said. "They wanted him to kill the sheriff and he refused. He couldn't do it."
The revelation somehow shocked me. Guy seemed so bent on revenge, so eager for his lord's blood. And yet he spared his life at risk of his own. Maybe he didn't have a chance to look for me before he fled, especially if the warriors meant to kill Guy for his disobedience. But even as the thought ran through my mind, it didn't console my heart. A part of me wanted to believe he'd risk heaven and earth to be with me, even if I knew it was just a girlish fancy.
Robin gently touched my hand.
"Gisburne was a fool to leave you behind. If it consoles you any, I'll give him a good thrashing next time he comes into Sherwood."
Robin gently laughed, the dimples softly coming to his cheeks and his golden hair catching the dim sunlight. For a moment I thought of Guy although the appearance between the young outlaw and the Norman knight held little similarity. But somehow, for some reason, I felt there was some connection between these two men.
