A TALE OF SHERWOOD
Chapter 1 In which we meet out Heroine
The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to
sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread.-Anatole
France
The Pickpocket wandered through the village, heading for the square. Around her the villagers were happily going about their business. There was an air of happiness and all around good spirits. It was the first good, sunny spring's day after a very long, very cold, very wet, and very, very hungry winter. The Pickpocket's stomach rumbled- reminding her that, although dry and warm, she was still hungry.
She needed to get some food and go meet Much in the alley. Much was one of her only friends- a fellow pickpocket himself. He was the bastard son of the Miller but that didn't help him any. His mother worked in the Tavern and her coin usually was spent on ale for herself. She did not care for her boy at all, but let him stay in her home. Much at least has a roof over his head in the winter, thought the Pickpocket, thinking of where she spent the nights. More often then not it was a wet haystack or in a doorway, that is until the occupants of the house chased her away.
They didn't know she was a girl. To the world she was a ragged, thieving boy. She kept her hair cut short and her chest bound. Only Much knew her secret- he had been the one to suggest the charade. Too many things could happen to a girl without a place to stay. So she was Harry the Pickpocket- not Hilde as she had been named by her Mother.
Mother. The word felt funny in her mind.
She didn't remember her Mother. Hilde had no recollection of a family at all. The closest thing she had to family was Much. Hilde didn't even know what had happened to her mother. She had probably died of some disease, or had simply abandoned her when she couldn't take care of a little girl.
Someone jostled her elbow, sending Hilde back to the present. Her stomach rumbled again. Food, she though again, let's go get something to eat. She wandered over to the bakers stall and deftly slipped a roll into her pocket. It was still warm and it made her mouth water. But one small rolls wouldn't feed two very hungry pickpockets. So she stole a hunk of cheese too.
With her pockets close to full she headed to the edge of the marketplace, by the church. Much was already there. He was a tall boy of about 18. He stood a good half a head above most everyone in the village. His looks were nothing to complain about either. He had dark hair that was always too long, and always fell across his eyes. It never ceased to surprise Hilde that Much actually managed to pull off being a pickpocket. He was so recognizable. Maybe that was what helped him. On the other hand Hilde was short, and very forgettable.
"Get anything good?" she asked Much.
"Show you there, lass!" he said, grinning. She knew he had something better than just food from the twinkle in his brown eyes.
"Don't call me that!" she hissed at her companion, who was now smirking at her in a very annoying manner. "Someone could hear!" But Much just smirked some more. Hilde sighed and followed him.
They hurried along the crowded street, and turned down an alley. The alley was quite narrow, bending sharply to the right. Once around the corner it opened up though, into a small un-roofed courtyard, surrounded on all sides by the backsides of buildings.
Hilde and Much used it as a place to meet and occasionally live. There had been a nice pile of old hay there for a while, but it had gotten taken by a stable hand to feed the horses. Hilde immediately sat down and looked expectantly at Much.
"So, what is it?" she asked.
"You first." He said.
Sighing she pulled out the roll and the hunk of cheese. She knew better than to try to get him to tell her whatever it was he knew before he was ready. He was almost as stubborn as she was and she hadn't the energy to argue with him.
Much didn't say anything to her, but split the bread and cheese in two, equal bits. He then pulled three apples out of his pockets. She accepted her portion of the food and started to eat. She was very curious, but she was even more hungry.
"This bread is very good, and so is the cheese. The apple was great, if I do say so myself." Said Much when he had finished with his portion. "But I have something better." Out of his pocket he pulled a dagger.
Hilde sat, agape. It was magnificent! The blade was keen, the hilt was plain but well made. Hilde could tell that it would fit wonderfully in her book. It was the most beautiful, well-crafted dagger the pickpocket had ever seen. She was practically drooling at the gorgeous weapon.
"This is a gentleman's blade." She breathed. "Where did you get it?"
"Well," said Much "we did plan to get blades, mine fell apart and if yours is sharpened anymore there won't be any left, so don't look so surprised. We need good daggers if we want to cut purse strings without being noticed."
"But- this! It's worth more than we could ever steal!" Hilde cried.
"Actually, they are exactly as much as we can steal." Said Much, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. "See there is this chap I met, lass. I told 'im what I was looking for and he said he had just the thing. This was it. It has a brother, almost the same. Well, when I saw 'em I told him what you just told me, Lass, and he said that as these were stolen off of a Norman, and he would probably be looking for 'em. Well this chap, he said 'e would sell them for a fair price. I told 'im what we had, and he said if I could come up wiv thirteen more pieces they were mine. We made a deal. I take one and leave all the gold and later he will come here, and we will giv him the rest of the gold, or he will leave us wiv this one 'ere."
"But thirteen pieces!" cried Hilde. "You know we can't get that much in a year, let alone by tonight!"
"But we can! The Sheriff is taxing the people to death. He sends out his soldiers to collect the taxes and they take it to 'im. You know that!" Hilde did. Taxes were always increasing, people went missing from their homes, soldiers showed up in the middle of the night and took everything of value. But, Hilde did not see how this was supposed to help them get thirteen gold pieces by tomorrow. Much, however, continued. "All we need to do is to slip into the wagon with the taxes in it, while the soldiers are wrestling more money out of some poor man, and slip a few coins into our pockets. We are good to go! And it just so happens that this very afternoon the soldiers are due to make a stop and the church here. You know Tuck won't give up his crucifixes and such easily. While he is making a fuss we slip into the wagon and slip out. Easy!" Hilde smiled, thinking of the fat friar. He loved food and wine and genuinely cared for God- but he would not give up his holy treasures easily.
"I don't know. thieving- regular pickpocketing we can do. But to steal from the Sheriff- right under the noses of the soldiers. we can't do that!" said Hilde. "Yes we can. It is simple."
"but-"
"Do you want the dagger or not?" asked Much. Waving it in front of her eyes. She remained silent for a moment. She took the dagger from Much and held it for a bit. Then she threw it at a scarred piece of wood near Much. Perfect Bullseye, as usual.
"Showoff." Muttered Much. They both could throw daggers, but she was by far the best. Much only hit his target every fifth time.
"Where did that chap of yours get the daggers from?"
"Robin Hood."
AN: Hi, this is me, Langsiell. So what did you think? There is more coming, I promise. I've written the beginning and the end- but I still have to write the bits that are in between. Please Review. I need reviews- tell me what you like and what's wrong, k? Thanks A lot. Have a nice day!
Chapter 1 In which we meet out Heroine
The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to
sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread.-Anatole
France
The Pickpocket wandered through the village, heading for the square. Around her the villagers were happily going about their business. There was an air of happiness and all around good spirits. It was the first good, sunny spring's day after a very long, very cold, very wet, and very, very hungry winter. The Pickpocket's stomach rumbled- reminding her that, although dry and warm, she was still hungry.
She needed to get some food and go meet Much in the alley. Much was one of her only friends- a fellow pickpocket himself. He was the bastard son of the Miller but that didn't help him any. His mother worked in the Tavern and her coin usually was spent on ale for herself. She did not care for her boy at all, but let him stay in her home. Much at least has a roof over his head in the winter, thought the Pickpocket, thinking of where she spent the nights. More often then not it was a wet haystack or in a doorway, that is until the occupants of the house chased her away.
They didn't know she was a girl. To the world she was a ragged, thieving boy. She kept her hair cut short and her chest bound. Only Much knew her secret- he had been the one to suggest the charade. Too many things could happen to a girl without a place to stay. So she was Harry the Pickpocket- not Hilde as she had been named by her Mother.
Mother. The word felt funny in her mind.
She didn't remember her Mother. Hilde had no recollection of a family at all. The closest thing she had to family was Much. Hilde didn't even know what had happened to her mother. She had probably died of some disease, or had simply abandoned her when she couldn't take care of a little girl.
Someone jostled her elbow, sending Hilde back to the present. Her stomach rumbled again. Food, she though again, let's go get something to eat. She wandered over to the bakers stall and deftly slipped a roll into her pocket. It was still warm and it made her mouth water. But one small rolls wouldn't feed two very hungry pickpockets. So she stole a hunk of cheese too.
With her pockets close to full she headed to the edge of the marketplace, by the church. Much was already there. He was a tall boy of about 18. He stood a good half a head above most everyone in the village. His looks were nothing to complain about either. He had dark hair that was always too long, and always fell across his eyes. It never ceased to surprise Hilde that Much actually managed to pull off being a pickpocket. He was so recognizable. Maybe that was what helped him. On the other hand Hilde was short, and very forgettable.
"Get anything good?" she asked Much.
"Show you there, lass!" he said, grinning. She knew he had something better than just food from the twinkle in his brown eyes.
"Don't call me that!" she hissed at her companion, who was now smirking at her in a very annoying manner. "Someone could hear!" But Much just smirked some more. Hilde sighed and followed him.
They hurried along the crowded street, and turned down an alley. The alley was quite narrow, bending sharply to the right. Once around the corner it opened up though, into a small un-roofed courtyard, surrounded on all sides by the backsides of buildings.
Hilde and Much used it as a place to meet and occasionally live. There had been a nice pile of old hay there for a while, but it had gotten taken by a stable hand to feed the horses. Hilde immediately sat down and looked expectantly at Much.
"So, what is it?" she asked.
"You first." He said.
Sighing she pulled out the roll and the hunk of cheese. She knew better than to try to get him to tell her whatever it was he knew before he was ready. He was almost as stubborn as she was and she hadn't the energy to argue with him.
Much didn't say anything to her, but split the bread and cheese in two, equal bits. He then pulled three apples out of his pockets. She accepted her portion of the food and started to eat. She was very curious, but she was even more hungry.
"This bread is very good, and so is the cheese. The apple was great, if I do say so myself." Said Much when he had finished with his portion. "But I have something better." Out of his pocket he pulled a dagger.
Hilde sat, agape. It was magnificent! The blade was keen, the hilt was plain but well made. Hilde could tell that it would fit wonderfully in her book. It was the most beautiful, well-crafted dagger the pickpocket had ever seen. She was practically drooling at the gorgeous weapon.
"This is a gentleman's blade." She breathed. "Where did you get it?"
"Well," said Much "we did plan to get blades, mine fell apart and if yours is sharpened anymore there won't be any left, so don't look so surprised. We need good daggers if we want to cut purse strings without being noticed."
"But- this! It's worth more than we could ever steal!" Hilde cried.
"Actually, they are exactly as much as we can steal." Said Much, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. "See there is this chap I met, lass. I told 'im what I was looking for and he said he had just the thing. This was it. It has a brother, almost the same. Well, when I saw 'em I told him what you just told me, Lass, and he said that as these were stolen off of a Norman, and he would probably be looking for 'em. Well this chap, he said 'e would sell them for a fair price. I told 'im what we had, and he said if I could come up wiv thirteen more pieces they were mine. We made a deal. I take one and leave all the gold and later he will come here, and we will giv him the rest of the gold, or he will leave us wiv this one 'ere."
"But thirteen pieces!" cried Hilde. "You know we can't get that much in a year, let alone by tonight!"
"But we can! The Sheriff is taxing the people to death. He sends out his soldiers to collect the taxes and they take it to 'im. You know that!" Hilde did. Taxes were always increasing, people went missing from their homes, soldiers showed up in the middle of the night and took everything of value. But, Hilde did not see how this was supposed to help them get thirteen gold pieces by tomorrow. Much, however, continued. "All we need to do is to slip into the wagon with the taxes in it, while the soldiers are wrestling more money out of some poor man, and slip a few coins into our pockets. We are good to go! And it just so happens that this very afternoon the soldiers are due to make a stop and the church here. You know Tuck won't give up his crucifixes and such easily. While he is making a fuss we slip into the wagon and slip out. Easy!" Hilde smiled, thinking of the fat friar. He loved food and wine and genuinely cared for God- but he would not give up his holy treasures easily.
"I don't know. thieving- regular pickpocketing we can do. But to steal from the Sheriff- right under the noses of the soldiers. we can't do that!" said Hilde. "Yes we can. It is simple."
"but-"
"Do you want the dagger or not?" asked Much. Waving it in front of her eyes. She remained silent for a moment. She took the dagger from Much and held it for a bit. Then she threw it at a scarred piece of wood near Much. Perfect Bullseye, as usual.
"Showoff." Muttered Much. They both could throw daggers, but she was by far the best. Much only hit his target every fifth time.
"Where did that chap of yours get the daggers from?"
"Robin Hood."
AN: Hi, this is me, Langsiell. So what did you think? There is more coming, I promise. I've written the beginning and the end- but I still have to write the bits that are in between. Please Review. I need reviews- tell me what you like and what's wrong, k? Thanks A lot. Have a nice day!