A/N: The 1938 Robin Hood is one of my favorite films, and I wanted to do a fic based on the scene where Errol Flynn's Robin met with Marian at the castle. Two things to know about this AU:
1) Robin hasn't spoken with Ms. Louis in the forest yet (which prompts Robin in the film to go back to Prince John's castle).
2) The Sheriff wasn't immediately thrown into the Dungeon of Despair after Prince John accused Robin.
Spring morning sunshine provided excellent light for Maid Marian as she sat down to work. In front of her was her large loom. A half-finished tapestry of a yellow rubber duck wearing a Lincoln-green hat and a quiver hung, waiting for her. Once completed, it ought to fetch enough at Robin Good's upcoming celebrity auction to provide a bountiful serving of ham for a large family.
The rhubarb maiden smiled as she picked up her shuttle, following the light lines she had drawn to provide a guide for her variegated weft threads. While the ward of King Richard the Lionheart, Marian was not one to sample the bread of idleness, preferring always to have something useful to do. Whether it was weaving baskets to give to her tenants in the village, baking cupcakes for the servants' children, knitting scarves for the guards, or rotating tires on the carriage, Marian itched if she didn't keep busy.
That was one good thing about her partnership with Robin Good, she reflected as she worked on the duck's cute, little wing. Robin roamed Sherwood Forest, collecting donations from the rich to feed the poor, who were taxed heavily to provide relief to King Richard in the ongoing war (and to give hams to Prince John). Robin organized all sorts of fundraisers to tempt noblemen to open their purses, but he constantly needed new prizes and merchandise to offer as incentives.
That was where Marian came in. Many nobles, hungry for bragging rights, jumped at the chance to owe a tapestry or handkerchief crafted by the king's ward. As soon as Marian could complete a new project, she sent it off to Robin for him to sell or raffle off, and he brought back heartwarming stories of poor children rejoicing to receive hams and other delights. It gave new purpose to her domestic skills, and she always looked forward to his visits to hear about the good they were doing.
Well, there was another reason why she looked forward to his visits, but she kept that locked inside her heart for the present.
The door opened without a knock, and the light footfalls of her blueberry nurse, Elizabeth, entered. She was a pretty fruit of Norman descent, and she wore a nice, but simple, headdress denoting her station in the household. Although Marian was a grown woman now, King Richard had kept Elizabeth on as Marian's teacher, companion and chaperone.
Marian turned to smile at her, but the grim look on her nurse's face made her stare.
"Elizabeth, what's wrong?"
The berry sighed softly before raising her eyes. "Marian, dear, there's news."
She sat up, alarmed. "King Richard?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "Robin Good."
Marian stood, heart pounding. "Is he hurt? Did the giants get him?"
"No, child." Her large eyes hardened, and she pulled out from behind her back a rolled-up piece of parchment, which she handed to Marian.
She opened it with a shaking grasp, at once realizing it was a poster. A sketch of Robin Good's smiling face sat in the center; the artist perfectly captured his happy-go-lucky demeanor, the kind look of his happy eyes, his large front tooth that gave him a boyish air contrasting with the mature look of his mustache and goatee. Above was written a signal word: WANTED.
Marian nearly dropped the poster, but she forced herself to keep unrolling. Below were his charges: theft from the royal family.
She stared at the words as if they had been written in a foreign language, and then looked at Elizabeth.
"There has to be a mistake," she said in a strained voice.
"I heard the story from Prince John's messenger," Elizabeth replied grimly. "Last night, Robin Good stole hams from Bethlingham Castle while doing a fundraiser, right in front of His Highness."
Marian took a step back. "No."
"His Highness has personally signed his arrest warrant and is sending those posters all over the kingdom."
Marian had to sit down. "Robin told me he never robs."
"Certain vegetables can become excellent word smiths to get what they want from a young lady," sniffed the berry. "He'd probably say he doesn't 'rob' so much as 'borrow from those that can afford it.'"
Marian turned. "And Prince John saw him take the hams?"
"Well, no," Elizabeth admitted, "but look at the circumstantial evidence, dear. Prince John invited Robin to supper. When Robin got there, the dining room was full of ham. When Robin left, all the hams were gone. Besides the prince and Robin, only the royal guards and the Sheriff of Bethlingham were present, and they couldn't have done it. Only a master thief — or the band of merry men under his command — could have pulled off such a heist."
"But it may have been someone else," Marian whispered.
"Who else?" Elizabeth challenged.
Marian couldn't think of an answer. She blinked several times, feeling her eyes grow hot.
"There could have been someone else," she said.
Elizabeth shook her head and stepped over to her, giving her as much of an invisible hug as their height difference allowed.
"I know you cared for him as a friend — maybe more than a friend," she added knowingly. "At least you're learning his true colors now, before that scoundrel could have done worse. Take some comfort in that."
Marian closed her eyes, not trusting herself to breathe a word. Elizabeth gently removed the poster from her lap, rolled it up, and used its edge to give Marian a motherly pat.
"You're the ward of King Richard, and you're made of strong stuff," she reminded her. "You don't need a Robin Good to make you happy. Leave that to God. He has a better husband waiting out there for you."
Marian raised her head, gazing back with solemn eyes.
"Prince John could have been wrong," she said quietly. "A lady doesn't believe everything she hears."
"True," agreed the berry, "but she also acts wisely when it comes to selecting a mate."
Elizabeth left shortly after that last remark. In a daze, Marian hopped across the stone floor and animal rugs to the window. Beyond the castle walls, verdant treetops swayed in the spring breeze. Somewhere in the forest, Robin might have been in hiding. Or he might have been making a break to the seaside to take a boat out of England to the continent. Or he might have been fleeing to Scotland or Ireland.
But did he do it as a thief, or an innocent man?
Marian bit her lip, struggling between constancy and doubt. If her friend was innocent, she wanted the truth to come out promptly to clear him. Prince John must have jumped to the wrong conclusion if he could accuse such an upright man. Yet — and Marian's teeth tightened — if Robin had been lying to her this whole time about helping the poor, then she wanted justice to prevail. He could not keep using her to advance himself in life.
Too many men felt comfortable tricking her in order to curry favor or to obtain her hand. Sir Guy of Gooseberry once staged a mugging in order for him to appear as the hero in front of her, but the truth had come out almost immediately, and Marian had withdrawn any prior attachments she had felt.
Robin Good had seemed so refreshingly guileless. He never asked for anything other than help with his fundraisers. Even then he had always been sincere and gentle, never demanding or condemning if she could not immediately provide donations. He had earned her favor without ever asking for it; he had earned her trust because he never schemed to obtain it.
But had it all been a lie?
Grimacing, Marian drew in a breath to calm the rage and hurt caroming through her chest, and she laid her cheek against the cool stone. There must be more to the story, mustn't there? She thought back to the different times she had met with Robin in the forest, applying now a fine-tooth comb to her happy memories for a sign proving his guilt or innocence.
She first met him when she and her retinue passed through Sherwood Forest. Strange vegetables wearing Lincoln-green clothing and mischievous smirks appeared from the boscage and foliage, surrounding their wooden horses. Thinking they were highwaymen, her head guard raised his wooden sword to protect Marian — but the suction cup of a shuddering arrow had smacked right in the middle of the blade.
With a cry of "Yoinks and away!" a tall, handsome cucumber swung on a vine over their heads, landing on the thick bough of a tree on the opposite side of the path.
"Welcome to Sherwood, my lady," he had greeted Marian directly, gazing down at her with a warm smile that contrasted sharply with the smirks his men wore.
He explained he was Robin Good, who fundraised from the rich to give to the poor, and anything she could give would be helping children who were hungry. He promised they were not robbers, and if she could not spare a farthing right then, no harm would come to her or her retinue.
"If you're not robbers, then you shouldn't laugh threateningly," Marian pointed out, "especially the priest" — with a nod to the asparagus named Friar Cluck.
Robin looked embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry about that, m'lady. They like to play jokes when they can. There's not much to do in the forest besides practice archery and take a gazillion nature hikes."
"And hide from giants," snarked Bill Scarlet, Robin's kinsman and the only one wearing red. His remark earned a chorus of agreement from his friends.
At the time, his fundraisers did not have much variety: a bake sale of "meatless meat pies" (hams were already becoming scarce to the general public), a raffle for a second-hand set of ginsu knives, and a carriage wash. As unappealing as the wares were (and Marian had her own servants who cleaned her carriage, which was back at the castle), she was still impressed with the earnest way Robin and his men wished to help the poor, especially children. She bought a few pies and raffle tickets, promising she would do more if Robin swung by her castle the next day.
Marian soon became a silent partner for their fundraisers. She only had a limited allowance which King Richard had granted her in his absence, but she found other ways to help out. She introduced Robin and his men to her friend who sold Yams, chocolate bars with pizza coupons on the wrapper. She donated cartons of lemons which King Richard had FedExed her from the war front, and Big Red, the Norman pea, rationed them to make pitchers of lemonade to sell. She even got her old dancing master to agree to give four lessons in exchange for a donation of four shillings. She was happy to help her new friends help others.
Sometimes, she would visit their camp in Sherwood to hear about the progress of the fundraisers, and she and Robin would spend hours talking. Other times, she brought picnic baskets to let the Merry Men know they were appreciated, and Robin would invite her to stay, and she would sit next to him by the campfire, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows.
Once, after they slipped away from the rest of the camp for a private stroll along a stream, a giant surprised them. At the sight of the monstrous pickle, Robin scooped her up and fled, frantically maneuvering through the trees and shrubs. Robin then hid her against a tree trunk, shielding her with his own green body to provide camouflage. He had been pressed so close against her, she could feel his terrified heartbeat, but his face showed only protective determination. When their pursuers passed them, and the forest grew quiet, Robin withdrew to let her free — but she held onto his green tunic, gazing into his startled eyes with emotions that surprised even her.
Nearly bereft of speech, she could only mumble a soft word of thanks, but he seemed to hear what her heart wanted to shout, and the shy, tender expression on his face relayed back the same message. Almost immediately though, his men came looking for them, having heard the giant.
Could a man so willing to protect her, even at the risk of his own life, deceive her for so long? Had even that display of chivalry been a ploy, a sham danger like the one which Sir Guy had tried to implement to win her heart?
"A lady does not believe everything she hears," she quietly reminded herself. She had to repeat it several times to calm her aching heart, but she could not completely uproot the seed of doubt.
Night fell, cooling the castle. After changing into her dressing gown and letting her red hair hang in a braid, Marian sat beside the large fireplace in her chambers. Her servants had brought up her loom while she was in the shower, and they had laid it by the fire for her to work, per her nighttime habits. Marian surveyed the tapestry in silence, but she did not pick up her utensil or choose the next spool of weft thread. Was there any point in finishing her work now if Robin was just a crook?
She stood, went to her pitcher for a drink, sat with her goblet, stared at the unfinished tapestry. She laid the cool goblet against her burning cheek. She recalled the other things which she had donated to Robin's cause. What happened to that tunic she had sewn for the celebrity auction? Or the quilts? Or the pot holders? Maybe Robin had pocketed the money after selling them, or maybe he kept everything for himself, laughing up his Lincoln-green sleeve at her gullibility.
If King Richard were there to advise her, he might have said, "Listen, and confirm," pointing to what the Bible said about how it was better to put one's trust in God than man. There was sense in that. Too many times Marian had placed her trust in a man, only for him to be shown a liar. Why would Robin Good be different from the rest?
And why had she let herself care for him?
Marian drew her knees up to her chest, gazing at the unfinished ducky.
"God," she said in a voice that was more like a breath, "if Robin is untrustworthy, then I don't want him. I can't stand being lied to, over and over again. But if he's innocent, then give me proof, no matter how small."
She closed her eyes and sat there, listening to the burning logs, the crickets outside her glassless windows, and the gentle breeze playing with the tapestries on her walls. It was easier to focus on the comforting, familiar sounds of the night, to force herself to forget, if just for five, ten, fifteen minutes. Outside, the wind picked up, the climbing vines on the exterior wall of her chambers swayed and rustled — and the rustle grew nearer — and something snapped as if a body were climbing — and then it moved onto her window ledge — and a nasal cry of alarm as a cylinder body tripped and toppled onto her floor—
Marian's eyes shot wide open, and she jumped to her feet, whirling around to see a cucumber dressed in Lincoln green sprawled on her rug.
"Ow," came his delayed moan.
"Robin!" She quickly checked herself, straightening. "What brings you here at this time of night, Mr. Good?"
He opened one eye painfully, and a weak smile appeared as he pushed himself to his feet.
"Was just in the neighborhood, and, uh, thought…" He cleared his throat, adjusting his suit. His awkward expression grew sober. "I don't know if you've heard the news, but since you're one of my primary partners in the fundraisers, I wanted you to hear the truth from me directly."
Marian looked away. "And what particular truth did you have in mind?"
"The truth," he returned, stepping toward her. "Marian, I've been accused of a crime I didn't commit, and Prince John wants to throw me in the Dungeon of Despair without even a fair trial."
Her lips thinned. "He should give you a trial, even if you did the crime."
"But I didn't," Robin protested. "He thinks I stole a bunch of ham from him."
"I know," she replied quietly. "He sent your reward poster here earlier."
He swallowed, wincing.
"I thought so — but I'm innocent," he insisted, "and nobody will give me a chance to prove it. Instead, Prince John sicced the Sheriff and his posse on me. I've spent the whole day jumping fences, dodging trees, trying to get away."
"Generally, that's what happens when someone finds himself on a wanted poster," Marian said in an undertone.
"Falsely on a wanted poster," Robin returned, shooting her a troubled look.
"So you say."
He staggered back as if she had slapped him.
"You know me," he insisted. "I don't steal."
"A lady does not believe everything she hears," she said. "Have you anything to prove your innocence?"
She yearned for him to say yes. Her heart cried for him to produce something, even as small as a thimble, that could clear his name, that would show her he was the wonderful man she had believed him to be.
Instead, he wilted under her question. "Other than my reputation, no. One moment, the hams were there. The next, they were gone, and Prince John accused me of stealing them."
"And who else was in the room?"
"The Sheriff and a few guards."
"And do you think they stole the hams?"
"Not at all," he insisted. "They were too busy watching me and the prince argue in a jazzy number."
"Huh?"
"It makes sense in context," he answered with a shrug. "Point is, I didn't see them steal it. They didn't see me steal it, but I'm the one accused."
"So you say," Marian replied in a monotone, "but as I have not spoken to the Sheriff or guards myself, I can neither condemn or acquit you."
His face, if possible, dropped more. "What about 'innocent until proven guilty'?"
"In twelfth-century England?"
He drew back. "So, I can't convince you?"
She looked away with a soft exhale.
"Robin, I want to believe you, from the bottom of my heart," she said quietly, "but in my position I cannot blindly trust anyone. Far too many 'good men' have tried to use me because of my connection to King Richard. Any sheep could be a wolf in disguise, and I sincerely hope you aren't one of them."
"I'm not," he cried, taking a step toward her. "I could never hurt you or use you. You're too important to me. Marian, I—"
He stopped abruptly, looking away in embarrassment.
"You, what?" she returned in a low voice.
For a brave, dashing man, he quaked for a number of seconds, looking like he wanted to dive out the window without another word. At length, he forced himself to still. He took in a long breath and lifted his head, his sad eyes meeting her guarded ones.
"Marian," he said, "I love you."
She did not reply.
"I don't care that you're King Richard's ward," he went on. "Even if you were a peasant's daughter, I would love you, because you're super kind and generous. Your wonderful heart is what I want, not your connections. And if I can ever clear my name, I want to be next to you forever."
She closed her eyes, drew in a breath, and opened them again. Still, she held her peace.
"Anyway," he said, "I couldn't leave you without telling you that at least once."
Yesterday, she would have responded differently to such a declaration, but now it just reminded her of Sir Guy attempting to gain her love through deceit. She lifted her head and leveled her gaze with his.
"How can I love someone I can't trust?" she asked emotionlessly.
The sting of her words was evident. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his face falling. With head hung, he trudged back to her window, climbed onto her edge, and swung himself back into the vines.
Marian kept her head high, pushing down the emotions which threatened to disrupt her mask of neutrality.
…At least until a rumble arose from the dark forest.
Marian and Robin both froze.
Heavy footsteps swept through the night, as though boulders had sprung to life to go on the prowl — then came an unintelligible grumble, almost animalistic — the smack of a club as large as a log.
There was no mistaking that cacophony.
Giants. At least two.
A few commands among the sentries arose from the castle walls, but these seemed to be more precautions than fear of an assault. Behind the tall castle walls, all occupants should be safe.
Provided they stayed within the castle.
Marian's wide eyes darted to Robin, who gulped, but though he shuddered, he took a step down the vine.
Marian watched in horror.
He took another step down the makeshift ladder, slow from caution but he gave no indication he would beg for shelter. Robin lowered himself again.
At once, she remembered how he shielded her that day in the woods — how he had kept himself between her and the giant, how safe he made her feel in a moment of terror, how brave and noble, how gentle and affectionate he looked at her afterwards.
Marian broke into a run, leaping up to the stone seat beside the window. "Robin, wait."
"Th-They'll probably be gone soon," he gulped nervously, lowering himself a little further. "Actually, this works out. With giants nearby, the Sheriff and his posse won't search for me, so I can use that time to escape."
"Robin!" She lunged forward, hanging halfway off the ledge to grab the collar of his tunic. "Stay the night."
He stared at her. "What."
"You can sleep in the guest quarters," she pressed, "and leave before it gets light, before anybody can find you."
He frowned. "And how would that look to the neighbors, harboring a wanted cucumber?"
"And what am I supposed to do?" she demanded. "Let you become giant chow? If anything happened to you, I — I don't know if I could bear it."
He stopped stockstill. She gave another tug on his tunic, urging him to return. He pulled himself further up the vine, but instead of entering the room, he brought his face near hers, joyful wonder shining on his face.
"Then you do love, Marian, don't you?" He leaned closer, wearing a boyish beam. "Don't you?"
Looking into his hopeful face, she found her answer rising up in her heart.
"You know I do," she smiled.
"Then that's different," he grinned, climbing back up the vine and onto her ledge. He slipped back into her room, landing neatly, and helped her off the ledge, pulling her into a warm embrace.
She nestled against him, pressing her lips against his cheek. She could feel his smile stretch, and he tightened his hold, as if never wanting to let her go.
"Oh, Robin, tell me the truth," she urged him. "If you truly love me, tell me the truth about Prince John's hams, and I'll still care for you."
He turned his head, the light dimming, and she could see his genuine sorrow. "Marian, I'm innocent. Honest."
"Then I believe you," she whispered.
Relief washed over his large face. "You do?"
"Would my Robin lie to me?"
"Never, Marian," he promised, and he pulled her into another hug. "Oh, I don't know if I would've been able to stand it if I lost you too."
She raised her head. "Too?"
He exhaled, slumping against her. "I lost all my friends, Marian. They wanted to steal from the rich, but I told them it was wrong, and they all left me alone in the forest."
"My poor Robin," she murmured, feeling for him. He had once told her the Merry Men were like a second family to him, so she could only imagine his heartache.
"Then I got accused of stealing from Prince John," he went on helplessly, "but everybody in the room was watching me during my song-and-dance number! When could I steal all those hams? Where would I hide them?"
She leaned her forehead against him. "Then I can do something for you, perhaps. I can write to King Richard and plea for a royal pardon on your behalf."
"That could take months," Robin sighed, "and I wouldn't want to disturb the king when he's in the middle of a war."
Marian giggled. "King Richard may be in a warzone now, but once he finds out you're in love with me, he'll jump on the next boat to England just to give you the third degree."
He chortled as well. "Will he lock me in the dungeon for the rest of my life?"
"Maybe for a night, just to scare you," she teased, 'but once he knows how brave and wonderful and kind you are, he'll welcome you into the family."
He brightened at the last few words, pulling her closer. They might have stayed there awhile, but a call from the sentry and the crank of the portcullis being raised drew their attention. They both crept to the window in time to see a tomato with brown hair enter the courtyard with a troupe of gourds in helmets.
"The Sheriff," Robin whispered, keeping his head low.
Marian tightened her hold on him, thinking rapidly. While they watched, Elizabeth emerged from the keep and trotted down the steps to meet the newcomers. The Sheriff's voice carried up to them.
"With the giants in the area, we've come to beg shelter until morning, if Maid Marian will have us."
"I'll speak with her," said Elizabeth with a bow of her head.
Marian and Robin drew back, staring at each other.
"The secret passage!" she remembered. "You can hide in there, dearest."
With a tug on his collar, she guided him over to her enormous fireplace. There was room between the andirons and the blackened side wall for a medium-sized veggie (like a cucumber) to pass through safely. She tugged on an iron ring on the frame of the fireplace, and at once the side wall swung open with the creak of little use. Marian stepped aside to usher him in. He stooped to grab a piece of kindling to use for a light.
He paused in the doorway. "Where does this lead?"
"Down to a hidden arbor by the moat," she told him.
He nodded. "Then once I'm sure those giants are gone, I can sneak out."
She grimaced. "Must you, Robin?"
He turned, smiling grimly. "I'm a wanted cuke, remember? If the Sheriff finds me here, then you could get in trouble with Prince John. I can't let that happen to you."
"But what if that giant finds you?" Marian pressed, reaching for him.
"I've been escaping giants for most of my life," he reminded her. "I know how to hide, darling."
Marian wanted to argue the point, but time was limited. She leaned against him in a parting hug.
"Then come back to me as soon as you can."
"I will," he promised, pressing his cheek against her. As they drew apart, he wore a brave smile, but when he met her gaze, his countenance altered into a bashful expression.
"Is it too early to… ask for a goodbye kiss?" he mumbled.
She shook her head, charmed by his sweetness, and tilted her face, letting his lips meet hers in a chaste caress. Then he kissed her forehead before he crept off down the passage as fast as he could without producing an echo. Marian hurried to close the secret door, and not a moment too soon. A knock arose, and Marian found herself back in her chair, grabbing her shuttle for the tapestry.
"Enter," she said, as tranquil as she could.
Elizabeth entered again, wearing an odd expression. "The Sheriff of Bethlingham is here to ask for shelter. There was another giant sighting."
"Oh, yes, of course," Marian agreed. "Give them supper and juice boxes and anything else they require."
"Oui." Elizabeth nodded her acquiescence, but she hesitated. "Ah, one other thing, dear."
"Yes?"
"I was talking to the Sheriff down in the courtyard," she said, "about Robin Good."
Marian tried not to appear distressed, wondering wildly if the Sheriff had already guessed where Robin was right then.
"Yes?" she repeated bravely.
"I told you he was in the room when Robin was accused," Elizabeth said awkwardly, "but he let it slip — he doesn't think Robin stole from Prince John."
Marian smiled. "Fancy that."
Elizabeth sighed. "I am sorry I misjudged that young man. I should have put my faith in him."
"Only God is worthy of your faith," Marian reminded her, "but some people are worth trusting most of the time."
"Oui." Elizabeth nodded. "I'll see to your guests then."
When Elizabeth left, Marian leaned back in her chair. A content smile remained upon her lips.
"Listen, and confirm," she said quietly, sending up a silent thank-you that her sweet Robin had been vindicated.
THE END
A/N: While this is mostly influenced by the 1938 film, there are a few nods to other Robin Hood works. See how many you can spot. ;)
