MEMORIES by White Wolf
Chapter Three
Martin filled his plate, but before he took the first bite, he asked, "Robert, tell me why you came here today?"
"This is my home, Martin. Where else should I have gone? More to the point, why are you asking me that question?"
Martin knew Robin didn't like to stall when his mind was made up about something. Robin wanted answers, so he decided to just jump in and see what happened. "You haven't lived here for two years, Robert," He hesitated before saying, "or perhaps I should call you Robin, now?"
The look Robin gave the Huntingdon steward was almost comical. If Martin had grown another head right in front of him, the look wouldn't have been any different.
"I haven't lived here in two years," Robin stated flatly. "And, you think you should call me Robin. Martin, have you fallen on your head?'
"No, but I think you must have." Martin said it, not having the slightest notion that his idea was very close to the truth. "Have you hit your head lately?" The question was asked in all seriousness.
"I was attacked by bandits two days ago. I told you that Jeffery and Aggie saved my life. They're the ones who found me and took me to their home."
"That's it, then. A blow to the head must have somehow caused you to forget your recent life." Unable to eat until he had gotten the story out, Martin pushed his plate away and looked intently at Robin. He began to explain all he knew of the life of Robin Hood.
There was a long, stunned silence. Robin knew Martin didn't lie. Yet, how could he possibly believe such a fantastic story? He, Robert of Huntingdon, the son of the Earl, was the infamous outlaw, Robin Hood, and had been living in Sherwood Forest with other outlaws for the past two years. "Not possible," was the only comment Robin could make.
"It's not only possible, Robert. It's true. I swear by all I hold dear, it is."
Robin hadn't realized that he had spoken out loud until he heard those words from Martin. He shook his head. "You can't mean it. Why would I do such a thing? I don't even know this Marion of Leaford. Why would I give up all of this," he said, as he waved his hand to encompass the room, "to rescue someone I've never even met? There has to be some mistake. Perhaps this Robin Hood looks like me, or..."
Martin was shaking his head. "You know of Robin Hood, of course."
"Of course, he's..." Robin stopped and thought. He smiled as he said, "He's dark-haired and comes from Loxley. Right? Marion is his wife." The smile faded when he said, "Then, why didn't he and the other outlaws rescue her?"
"Loxley was killed three years ago. Don't you remember hearing about it? We even discussed it once."
Robin nodded. "I do remember now, yes. The Sheriff had him shot."
"I just told you Marion came here two years ago after the King pardoned her. You seemed infatuated with her. That, and your sense of what's right, is why you rescued her."
Robin closed his eyes. He wasn't sure what might come next.
"When you killed the Marcher Lord Owen of Clun, who the King was counting on to help him in his dispute with the Welsh, you had no choice but to stay in Sherwood. When the Sheriff found out it was you who was the new outlaw leader, there was no chance you could ever come home." Martin stopped for a moment to give Robin time to come to terms with what he had already heard.
Martin knew how Robin was going to take what he had to say next. "It upset your father more than you know. He's convinced he's lost you for good. Every time he's told a messenger has arrived, he believes they might be coming to tell him you've been killed or captured, which would mean your execution."
Robin still had trouble grasping the idea that he was an outlaw, living in the forest. But, worse was the idea that he had hurt and shamed his father. They hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, but there was a deep love and respect between them.
Robin shook his head. "How could I have done that to him?"
"You did what you thought was right. You've helped a lot of people, people who would suffer without Robin Hood to defend them. Every day there seems to be another story about your adventures. I often find the servants here gossiping about you. You've become quite the hero."
"I don't want to be a hero, Martin. I just want to live my life here the way I've been raised---to one day be the Earl of Huntingdon. My father has pounded that into my head as long as I can remember. So have you."
"Yes. But, Robert, our destiny doesn't always turn out to be the one we plan on. I was supposed to take over my father's farm. I hated it and ran away. I landed here, worked my way up to steward, and now, I've been here for over twenty years. Life can sometimes take us in unusual directions." Martin regarded Robin with a sympathetic smile.
Robin looked at Martin, his face still a mask of confusion. "But, an outlaw? That's so incredible." Robin snapped his fingers. "That's it, then."
"What?"
"These clothes. Jeffery said I was wearing them when he found me. I thought at first they were his. He also said I had this sword. I'm sure I've never seen it before."
When Robin pulled the sword out of its scabbard, Martin nodded. "Albion. Yes, there are stories about that, too. It's one of the Seven Swords of Wayland. It's supposed to have magical powers."
Robin stared at the sword. "This is magical?"
"So the stories go. Like everyone else, I know only what I hear."
Robin held Albion up for a minute, studying the runes. "Do you know what these mean?"
"No," Martin shook his head. "I have no idea."
Robin set Albion gently on the table in front of him. "I thought when I woke up at Jeffery's, these clothes and this sword were confusing. It was nothing compared to what you've just told me about my life now. It's still so unbelievable."
"You have a lot to think about, Robert. Why don't you go to your room and try to rest."
"I don't think resting is going to help any." Robin took a deep breath. "I wish my father was here. Although, after what you've told me, I doubt he'd want to see me."
"You're wrong, Robert. What you became did shame him, though the rest of the nobility sympathized with him rather than condemned him. He hated that you turned your back on Huntingdon and your future here, but he's never stopped loving you. If he were here now, he would tell you that himself. I also suspect, in his own way, he's proud of you."
Robin had a wistful look on his face. Martin spent more time with the Earl than anyone else. So, if Martin said it was true, it was. He stood up and walked around the table. This time he did hug Martin. "I'll take your advice and try to get some rest. Thank you, Martin."
Robin headed toward the door. Martin called after him. "Robert, you forgot Albion."
Robin turned back and took the offered sword. No more words passed between him and the steward. There really was nothing else to say at this point.
Robin made the long journey through the castle to his room. Someone had already lit the candles that sat on his dresser and bedside table, bathing the room in soft golden glow. He stood in the doorway and looked around the room. He had the same feeling now he had when he first arrived: that of returning after a long absence. It brought home to him the truth of all that Martin had told him.
He had put Albion in his scabbard on his way up here, and now he took the scabbard belt off and looped it over the back of the chair that sat in the corner near the large wardrobe. Then, he sat down on the side of his bed for a minute before lying down and starting at the high ceiling.
He had grown up in this room. It was more familiar to him than any place else on earth. Yet, something wasn't right. He knew now that it was because he called another place home---Sherwood Forest, according to Martin. How could he possibly trade this large, comfortable bed for one on the cold ground? How could he trade being waited on hand and foot for having to forage for whatever food he could manage to catch? How could he trade a secure life of privilege for one as a hunted outlaw? How could...? He closed his eyes. There were so many comparisons he could make. It came down to one question: How could he have done any of it?
But, it was inescapable that he had. He had done all those things, as well as hurt his father. All for a woman he couldn't even remember. There was more to it than just Marion. He understood that rescuing Marion had just been the beginning. What else was there that would cause such a change in his life? He had always hated the injustices and poverty he had seen all around him. Was that enough to make him leave everything he had always known and take up a life helping strangers?
No matter how many questions he asked himself, he couldn't get around the fact that he had done it. He was now Robin Hood, the man he had heard about but barely took notice of when Loxley wore that name. "I'm Robin Hood," he said aloud. "Me, Robert of Huntingdon. I'm...Robin...Hood." No matter how many times he said it, he still felt that he was talking about someone else.
Try as he might, he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember living in Sherwood, or the men he was reported to lead, or Marion. He had no memory of any of it. How could he forget the last two years of his life so completely? Unconsciously, he turned his head and rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. The lump was a lot smaller. "That must have been some blow," he reasoned.
* * * * * * * * * *
While Robin lay in his room and puzzled over his identity, his friends were eating their dinner at the campsite they had established where they would spend the night. At that moment, no less doubt pervaded here than in Robin's room.
"We'll arrive at Huntingdon Castle tomorrow," John was saying.
"I don't understand why Robin would go back there," Tuck asked. "Surely, he knows we're worried about him by now."
"Maybe, he's too hurt to tell anybody anything," Will pointed out. He didn't want to say it out loud, but he knew things had gotten far beyond trying to pretend nothing bad was wrong.
Tuck sighed. "Aye, I'm beginning to think you may be right."
"How would anyone know he came from Huntingdon? If he could talk, he'd have told them to take him to Sherwood." It made perfect sense to Much.
"Unless he needs more help than he could get there," Nasir offered.
"Or, maybe it's someone from Huntingdon, who knows him," John said.
"The people in the wagon aren't from Huntingdon, They live in Ashton, remember?" Will smiled triumphantly. He was proud he had thought of that bit of information.
John and Tuck both nodded as the memory came to them.
No one knew what was really going on and more speculation wasn't going to get them anywhere. The rest of dinner was spent in virtual silence. Tomorrow there would be answers---they hoped.
* * * * * * * * * *
Robin was deep in thought when he heard a knock at his door. He sat up. "Come in," he called.
Martin entered. "Robert, it's been over two hours. I think your friends may be wondering where you are."
"I know. I just don't know what to say to them. Jeffery will think I'm crazy."
"He doesn't seem to be the kind of man to believe that of you," Martin assured Robin, who wasn't assured at all.
"How can I explain it to him when I still don't understand it myself?" He looked up at Martin. "Two years of my life---just gone. What if I never remember them?"
As much as Martin wanted to, he couldn't in good conscience, tell Robin he would get his memory back. He could only hope. "You have to believe everything will turn out as it should." That was the best he could do to encourage the still-confused young man.
Robin nodded as he got up. "I should change. Take Jeffery and Aggie to the Sword Room. I'll be there shortly."
Martin left and was soon knocking on Jeffery's door to inform him of Robin's request.
Ten minutes later, Robin entered a moderately large room, whose walls contained crossed swords of all types, old and new. There were Norman and Saxon blades, as well as Spanish and French, and two were the curved Scimitars of the East, brought back from the last Crusade and presented to the Earl as a gift.
Jeffery smiled as Robin entered the room. "I see where this room gets its name."
"Yes, it is rather obvious, isn't it?" Robin looked around. "Where's Aggie?"
"She's a hardy girl, but all the traveling we've done the last couple of days has tired her out. I thought it best she get a good night's sleep before we start home tomorrow."
"I would love for you to stay a few days. You're certainly more than welcome to all that my home has to offer." Robin's invitation held a slightly pleading tone.
"Thank you, Robert. That would be very nice, but we have to get back. I told you about the family whose house burned. Their new one will be finished day after tomorrow, and they'll be needing our old furniture. Besides, I need to get the next crop in the ground while the weather is still good."
"I could send some people to take care of both the furniture and the planting for you while you and Aggie are here. I owe you so much, and you don't seem to want me to repay you."
"I don't. I told you that seeing you recover is payment enough. As for planting my field, I've done it all my life. I really like working the land myself. Aggie is all the help I need." Jeffery hated to turn Robin down yet again, because he knew how much Robin wanted to give them something to say thank you.
Robin turned and looked up at the Normal swords that sat above the large fireplace, which was roaring brightly. When he turned back around, he caught Jeffery looking at him curiously. Robin sighed. He knew exactly what his friend was thinking. The subject couldn't be ignored any longer. "You're wondering what's going on with me, aren't you?"
"It's not my place to question you, Robert. But, I have to be honest. I am curious. Martin made it sound like you are Robin Hood. Is that true?"
"So he tells me. Martin helped raise me, and he's never lied to me---not once. He says I've been living as Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest for the past two years. I don't remember the other outlaws I lived with. I don't remember the things I did there. I don't remember any of it. How strange is that?" Robin shook his head.
"It would explain a lot: like your being in Sherwood when we found you, your clothes, the sword Albion, the stares of all the people here when we arrived." Jeffery smiled compassionately at Robin's obvious perplexity. "As I've said before, you did take quite a blow on your head. Maybe, it'll all come back to you when you've fully recovered."
"I'm mended well enough. It shouldn't keep me from remembering the things I've forgotten. It's frightening to think I may never get my memory back." Robin sat down in one of the large cushioned oak chairs near the fire. He stared into the flames as if seeking an answer there. He suddenly jerked.
"Robert, what is it?" Jeffery asked with concern.
After a moment, Robin said, "The fire. I saw myself drinking from a golden goblet. I was wearing the clothes you found me in. It was only a flash, but it seemed so familiar somehow. And, there's something about a cave."
"Did you see yourself in a cave?"
"No, just the word cave came to mind. Something mystical. I'm not sure. It was so odd." Robin physically shook himself. "Let's just forget all of this for now. I don't have any answers, and it isn't fair to take up our time together talking about something I can't explain."
With that statement, Robin and Jeffery spent the next hour and a half talking about Jeffery's farm and his early life in Ashton. They also talked about his wife and how blessed Jeffery felt having Aggie after having lost two sons when they were very young. Robin told Jeffery a little about his childhood here at Huntingdon.
Jeffery finally reminded Robin he wanted to get an early start the next morning. Robin tried one more time to talk him into staying a few days, but the man was adamant about needing to get back home. So, reluctantly, the two men went upstairs and parted company as each went to his own room.
* * * * * * * * * *
Robin, Jeffery and Aggie ate a sumptuous breakfast, during which Aggie asked Robin all the questions she hadn't yet asked him. The Earl's son and the farmer's daughter were having a wonderful time. Then, Jeffery was forced to remind them he and Aggie needed to get started for home. The reminder brought groans. Robin, in deference to Jeffery's decision to leave, didn't ask again for them to stay. He didn't want his friend to feel trapped by asking it in front of Aggie.
Reluctantly, they made their way to the castle's main entrance. James, the stable boy, had Lancelot and the wagon waiting for them. A servant girl handed Robin a sack of food that had been prepared for Jeffery and Aggie's lunch as they traveled. There was also enough for dinner so neither would have to cook after their long journey.
Robin hugged Aggie. "Both of you have a good, safe journey home."
Aggie held Robin tightly. "I'll miss you, Robert." She smiled as she let him go and looked up at his handsome face. "Will you come visit us some time?"
"That's a promise, Aggie. I can't say for sure when, but I'll definitely see you again." Robin turned to her father. "Jeffery, I could thank you for the next hundred years and not do justice to what you've done for me. I know my father will be sorry he missed meeting both of you."
"Just stay well, Robert, and don't worry about your memory. I have the feeling it'll all work out." The two men shook hands warmly.
Jeffery got up on the wagon seat just as James helped Aggie up on the other side. As Lancelot was urged forward and the wagon headed for the bridge, Aggie turned and waved to Robin, who lifted his hand in an answering wave.
Martin was watching from the doorway. He wanted to call Robin to come in before he was observed by even more people than the day before. But, he knew it was far too late for that. Everyone in the castle knew Robin was there. And, worse, they knew exactly who his alternate identity was. Martin just wanted to protect Robin, so he was relieved when the young man turned and re-entered the castle.
Once they were inside, Martin put his hand on Robin's shoulder. It pained him greatly to have to say the words he was about to utter. "You can't stay here, Robert. I trust the people that work for your father, but there are a lot of others who come and go here, and any one of them could get it in his head to report your presence to the Sheriff for the reward. Even someone who might agree with what you do in helping people could turn you in. It's more money than most of them will ever see in their whole lifetime. It's much too tempting."
"Where would I go?" Robin asked.
"Sherwood," Martin answered simply. The answer seemed obvious to him, though he refrained from saying 'of course'.
"I don't know Sherwood, not anymore, at least. I don't know the people there."
"No, but they know you. They're your friends, and they'll be eager to help you. Who knows, once you get back to the forest and see them, you may remember everything you've forgotten."
"I can't leave without seeing my father," Robin protested. "You said he still loves me. I have to be sure I haven't hurt him beyond repair." Robin looked up at the large portrait of the Earl hanging in the main hall. It had been painted four years earlier. "I can't leave until he comes home."
Martin hated to bring it up, but he had to try and reason with Robin. "If you're caught here, he'll be sent to prison for harboring an outlaw, even if he hadn't known you were here. You know how vindictive King John can be. Robin Hood has embarrassed him. He would be happy to blame your father and then with him stripped of his title and you executed, the King would get the Huntingdon fortune and all of its lands and holdings."
Robin's shoulders slumped. He knew the truth of what Martin was saying. No matter how much he wanted to see and talk to his father, he couldn't risk Huntingdon or the Earl's life. "You're right, Martin, as usual," Robin said somberly. "I have to leave."
Without another word, Robin headed up to his room. When he emerged a short while later and came back downstairs, he was wearing the clothes he had arrived in. However, it was another sword that was in place on his left hip.
Martin was waiting for him, still standing in the same spot where Robin had left him. Martin took note of what Robin was wearing. He also glanced down at the sword.
Robin saw the glance. "I left Albion on my bed," he said. "If anyone from Sherwood comes looking for me, you can give it back."
"But, Albion is your sword," Martin told him.
"No. Albion belongs to Robin Hood. I'm not that person anymore. Whoever becomes the next Hooded Man should have it."
"So, you aren't going back to Sherwood."
"I don't belong there, Martin. I know nothing about being Robin Hood or any other outlaw. Those people who followed him will be better off without me. They need a leader who knows what he's doing."
The steward disagreed but knew Robin's well-known stubborn streak was firmly in place. Arguing would do no good. So instead, he asked, "Where will you go?"
"Scotland. My uncle is the King there, after all. He and I were close when I was growing up. He'll accept me. And, he can protect me from King John, if need be."
"Yes, that's a good idea. It will sure ease your father's mind. You must be careful until you've left English soil. There are a lot of people who'll be glad to collect that reward."
"That's why I'm wearing these clothes." Robin winked.
Martin smiled as he turned and picked up a sack that was sitting in the corner. He turned toward Robin. "Food for the road. I had it prepared at the same time as Jeffery's. I took the liberty of having some of your clothes packed. They're on your horse. He's waiting at the main entrance. I thought it best that the most people possible see you leave. If someone does turn you in, no one can say you're being hidden here."
"Martin, you're amazing. You knew I'd see the logic of leaving and prepared for it. How on earth would my father ever get along without you?"
The older man smiled. "He's easy to work for, and his son has been a treasure."
Robin hugged Martin warmly and was rewarded with an even tighter hug from the steward. He patted Robin's back and then let go. "Keep safe, Robert. And, come back to us one day."
Not trusting his voice, Robin nodded and turned toward the entrance. He walked quickly out the door to his horse. He tied the food sack to his saddle next to the bundle of clothes and then swung up on the horse's back. He smiled down at James, who had been holding the bridle. "Farewell, James," Robin said as he spurred the gray stallion through the courtyard and galloped across the bridge.
The young stable boy watched until Robin and his horse were nothing but a speck on the horizon. Then, he turned back to his duties, not knowing if he would ever see the Earl's son again, just as Robin was wondering if he would ever see his home again.
Continued --