Sherwood, England, 1323

Robyn leapt nimbly through the long, swaying grass towards her small house. The thatching on the roof was slightly worse for wear but what did that matter? - it was summer time and Robyn felt happy and peaceful. Until she heard the scream. She never had never heard such a guttural, pain filled scream as that in her young life and she ran towards the house, closely followed by her younger siblings.

When they reached the door, their mother screamed again. She was having her fifth child, Robyn realised. It had been due any day now. The midwife came running out, splashing a copper bowl of filthy water on the hard packed earth. She saw the children huddled at the door and paused.

'Poor dears', she murmured and Robyn felt a sudden sense of foreboding. A short while later, when the screams had ceased, the midwife appeared at the door and shook her head sadly. Robyn was the first to notice the small bundle wrapped in stained cloth which the woman cradled in her arms.

'Alas', she said, almost talking to herself. ''Tis stillborn. And I fear that this life is not the only one claimed.' As the full realisation hit them the children turned to each other in varying degrees of shock. They each made slow passage through the room, to the small, closed off area where their mother was. She was lying on the pillow, her face deathly white, but serene in expression.

Amalie, the youngest child walked forward as her mother beckoned and stood unsure at the side of the bed. Her mother whispered something kissed her on the forehead, before calling the next child, John. And so this went on until Robyn was called forward, last because she was the oldest.

Her feet felt leaden and her stomach empty, but she dragged herself forward none the less. Her mother lifted herself with effort onto her elbows, reached under the pillow and pulled out a hidden object.

'Robyn, dearest', she said, 'I want you alone to have this. You are . . . special. You have great work to do. In time, you shall know, but this gift is yours.' As she spoke she looped a heavy silver chain around Robyn's neck then straightened it so her daughter could see what hung at the end. The ornately carved silver cross was slightly warm to the touch and covered in small, intricate patterns. It hung perfectly against Robyn's collarbone. She smiled wanly at her mother, kissed her gently one last time then helped her to lie on the pillows.

The children turned and left the room after that and the midwife bustled in and sat beside their mother, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. And a short while later, she reappeared at the door and shook her head sadly.

Robyn's tears began to flow and she ran out into the fields, not caring where she went. Soon she came to the gates of the large castle within the town. As she made to turn back, wiping her tears viciously from her eyes, a woman came out from the castle. It was the maid Marianne. All the townsfolk new her well - she resided with her nurse in the castle with the Sherrif, whom she detested. Robyn bowed her head and made a small curtsey then turned away, but the maid called her back.

'Robyn?' She enquired. Robyn turned back incredulously and nodded dumbly. 'Come', Marianne continued, 'There isn't much time. They are rising.' Allowing herself to be led into the castle, Robyn wondered what a noblewoman could possibly want with a peasant girl like herself and what she could possibly be getting herself into.

When they reached Marianne's private chambers, they stopped and Robyn stood forlornly in the middle of the room.

'You have lived through fourteen years, correct?' Marianne said. At the nod she said 'Child, you have an important duty. A sacred duty. You are the Chosen One. The Vampire Slayer.'

'Pardon?' Came the startled reply