A/N: Thanks to my reviewers. Keep pointing me in the right direction and I'll get there eventually! Praise and constructive criticism always welcome. Especially constructive criticism. Anything that will help me write better is always good in my book.
Entertainedbygrass - I caught half of an old episode of Robin of Sherwood a couple of weeks ago and that's when the plot bunny bit me, so that's probably why.
Lady Marian - Thanks! I do need to work on my descriptive writing, and I certainly don't intend the girls to be stereotypical - I'm going to have to work on that too I guess. I'm glad you like my Robin, though! I'm rather fond of him.
MissMurderKelby - Glad you like! And wait no longer, for here is the latest instalment!
The cell was cold, despite the summer heat. What little light there was came from a window about a foot above my head and about a foot square. The stocks were badly made with nails jutting out of the sides and I decided to use that to try and get my hands free. Although I managed to cut my wrists to shreds in the process I considered it a small price to pay for being able to use my hands. I jumped up and grasped the bars across the small window, gazing out across the courtyard. People were going about their daily business and as I watched a jester troop slowly across the yard, looking absolutely miserable. Yeah, join the club, mate I thought as I dropped back down to the floor.
I prowled over to the cell door and sighed as I leaned against it, looking out. A guard was sat on a chair and leaning it against the wall as he snoozed, his feet on a rickety table and his sword lying on the floor by his feet. The armour he was wearing was rusty and I grinned at the thought of what my Dad, a former Sergeant-Major in the Army, would have had to say about that. The keys to the cell hung on his belt. I gave the bars an experimental shake but they were stuck fast. A church bell chimed in the town, the sound sending a shiver down my spine, although that could have been due to the fact that my clothes were still damp.
Iron Maiden's Hallowed be thy Name started playing in my head and I grinned. I may be locked up but that didn't stop me having some fun, and that guard looked like he was bored too. I started singing, softly at first.
"I'm waiting in my cold cell when the bell begins to chime. Reflecting on my past life and it doesn't have much time 'cause at 5 o'clock they take me to the gallows pole. The sands of time for me are running low…" I strolled over to the door; the guard was watching me suspiciously. I played the riff in my head and then sang as loud as I could as the verse kicked in.
"When the priest comes to read me the last rites, I take a look through the bars at the last sights of a world that has gone very wrong for me. Can it be that there's some sort of error? Hard to stop the surmounting terror. Is it really the end, not some crazy dream? Somebody please tell me that I'm dreaming, it's not so easy to stop from screaming, the words escape me when I try to speak. Tears fall but why am I crying? After all I'm not afraid of dying. Don't I believe that there never is an end?"
"Oi you! Quiet in there!" shouted the guard. I fell silent and grinned as I played the guitar part in my head.
"As the guards march me out to the courtyard, somebody cries from a cell God be with you. If there's a God then why has he let me go? As I walk my life drifts before me, though the end is near I'm not sorry. Catch my soul; it's willing to fly away. Mark my words believe my soul lives on, don't worry now that I have gone, I've gone beyond to see the truth. When you know that your time is close at hand maybe then you'll begin to understand, life down here is just a strange illusion."
"OI! I'm trying to kip!" yelled the guard, rattling the bars of my cell with a stick. I shrugged again, playing the solo in my head, my fingers twitching as if longing for a guitar.
The guard walked back to his table and settled down again, just in time for the final part of the song. I threw my head back and screamed, "Hey yeah, hallowed be thy name, hey yeah, hallowed be thy name!" I held the last word for as long as possible until the guard rattling the bars startled me.
"FOR THE LAST TIME, SHUT UP!" roared the guard. I shut my mouth and looked at him, assuming an air of innocent confusion. I could hear a scrabbling sound by the window and forced myself not to look around; I had a feeling that Kit or Kels would be behind that sound and I didn't want to draw the guard's attention to them. Luckily he didn't appear to notice; he merely glared and walked back to his table and sat down with his helmet over his eyes. Within a few moments he began to snore softly.
I wandered over to the window and looked up. A face appeared in my line of vision; upside-down as if the owner of that face was lying on the roof, but instead of one of the girls I was surprised to see it was Robin.
"Oh, it's you," I said, sounding grumpier than I'd intended.
"Your friends said you were in trouble," replied the outlaw, grinning.
"Well yes, being accused of witchcraft does rank way up on the list of things I didn't want to happen to me. I'd invite you in but I don't think you're thin enough to get through the bars."
"Oh, no matter. Your friends will be causing a distraction any time… now," he said as the sounds of shouting came from the portcullis entrance. "Be right back," he said, winked at me and disappeared.
I ambled over to the door again just in time to see the guard jump up off his chair and run around the corner, seeking the cause of this latest disturbance. Seconds later there was a grunt and after a moment Robin strolled around the corner wearing the guard's clothes and twirling the keys around his fingers.
"Let's get you out of here quickly before the Sheriff turns up to investigate the noise," he suggested, and then promptly set about wasting five minutes trying to find the right key.
"Yes, let's get me out of here quickly," I taunted.
"Be quiet. Ah." The lock clicked and the door swung open, and Robin grabbed hold of my hand and dragged me out of the cell and down the corridor.
"Nice of you to rescue me," I remarked, and thought it best not to mention that my arm felt like it was being dragged out of its socket.
"Yes well, I'm a hero, it's what heroes do," he said and I thought I could detect a note of bitterness in his voice. Before I could remark upon it though I was pushed suddenly into an alcove.
"Sheriff," he whispered in my ear and positioned himself so that I was blocked from the view of whoever was passing the alcove. Unfortunately this meant that I was also squashed between Robin and the wall, so much so that I could feel his ribs digging into me… as well as other parts of his anatomy. I sighed and glanced over his shoulder as the Sheriff strode past, holding what looked like a flail and looking far too happy for a man about to inflict pain on another person.
"Shouldn't we be making our escape?" I pointed out after a couple of minutes had passed, as Robin hadn't moved. Robin grinned at me and leaned in to whisper in my ear.
"The girls can wait, don't you think?" he purred. A roar in the distance signalled the Sheriff's discovery of my absence and Robin jumped back like he'd been scalded. "Or not," he added. "Run!"
"Prat," I muttered, and endeavoured to accidentally-on-purpose hit him over the head as I darted past him.
We bolted for the doors and crashed through them, almost tripping over a couple of unconscious guards as we did so. I spotted Kit and Kels sitting two-up on a white horse and holding the reins of another, a black mare with a silver mane and tail.
"I know it's a bad time to ask you this, but can you ride?" Robin yelled.
"Of course!" I grabbed the reins and vaulted into the saddle, Robin jumping up behind me. He tried to take the reins from me but I elbowed him in the ribs and spurred the mare into a gallop towards the forest, Kit and Kels just behind.
Once we reached the overhanging boughs we slowed to a walk and Kit and Kels came up alongside. I hadn't realised until now just how scared I was; my heart was hammering wildly in my chest and my palms were clammy. I swallowed heavily and took a deep breath to calm down.
"Sorry we had to get him involved," muttered Kit darkly. "I could have taken them on but Kelby insisted."
"You couldn't have taken on the whole village!" protested Kels, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, we got you now… How are you?"
"I'm fine. Glad I didn't have to face the Sheriff again. Now there's a man that needs to understand that just because she's a suspected witch doesn't mean you have unlimited access to her boobs."
"Witches are supposed to have a third nipple with which to suckle their familiars," supplied Robin as Kit and Kels looked scandalised. "May I take the reins now? You are not going to come across my hideout just by stumbling across it."
"You mean like we did?" asked Kit with a grin. I could feel Robin pouting behind me and giggled.
"I steer, you tell me where to steer to," I said firmly. I hadn't been on a horse for ages and I was enjoying myself. Besides, it was pissing the famous hero off. I had an innate talent for annoying people and I was just in one of those moods, probably because I was feeling slightly out of sorts.
I urged the horse on ahead of the girls, ducking low branches and savouring the feel of the forest as we trotted along.
"Thanks again for the rescue," I said, trying to make conversation as I got the feeling that Robin was sulking. "Why did you do it?"
"The company of three charming young ladies?" he suggested. "I told you, I'm a hero; it's what heroes do."
"You haven't always been though, have you? I find it hard to believe that you were outlawed at the age of fifteen and immediately decided to be a hero."
"You're right." He sighed. "It used to be just me, my cousin Will, and John. We used to rob the odd nobleman who ventured into the forest, trying to save up enough coin to buy a palace on the coast and as many whores as we wanted.
"Anyway one day we heard from a wandering Friar that the Abbey of St Mary's had collected far more than their usual tithe, and we thought that the excess money would be put to better use in our hands than in the hands of that fat, gluttonous Abbot. While robbing the Abbey we interrupted a wedding and sadly killed the groom - accidentally of course, I was aiming for the Abbot and he got in the way. The intended bride turned out to be the beloved of a bard who had been trying to stop the wedding anyway. He became one of us, and you could say that tales of my deeds have been greatly exaggerated. Take my advice and never befriend a bard. They're more trouble than they're worth." He sighed again. "There's not much coin left now. I appear to have given most of it away. Again, it's that damn bard's fault. When he starts singing you can almost believe in heroes, you know? You can almost believe that you are one."
I switched off at that point as Robin's vocal meanderings took a turn for the depressing. I closed my eyes and relied on the horse and Robin's occasional instructions to lead me where I needed to go. The horse was a good one and she wouldn't stray. In the meantime I lost myself in the music of the forest. It was amazing, the change a couple of centuries made. I couldn't recall ever feeling so at peace in the twenty first century. I could feel the steady, slow heartbeat of the forest and I was so immersed in my surroundings I didn't even realise we'd stopped until Robin almost pulled me off the horse.
The glade appeared to be deserted as first glance but Robin put his hands to his lips and hooted three times and a score of men and women appeared from branches, behind bushes, in the undergrowth - everywhere, as if the forest had just spat them out. Kit immediately dropped into a fighting stance and Kels and I just stood there, stunned.
"You rescued the witch all right then," said one of them, a man dressed in russet tones unlike the others, who were dressed in various shades of greens and browns.
"Aye, she's safe, Will," replied Robin with a grin.
"And so the great hero triumphs again, braving certain death to rescue the fair maiden from a fate worse than death," said the willowy blonde man who was lounging in a tree above us. A harp lay across his lap and he idly stroked his fingers across the strings.
"Oh don't you start singing now Allan, we're just about to eat," groused Little John. "You ladies like venison? There's plenty to go round."
"I've never had it," said Kit warily. Robin nudged the two girls down towards the camp and placed his arm around my shoulders.
"You two go on down, they'll not harm you. Whereas you, miss witch, are coming with me. We need to get you out of these wet clothes." He winked at me and led me back out of the glade and back towards the same blasted oak that the girls and I had sheltered in the previous night.
"Here." Robin felt around inside the hollow of the tree and pulled out a pair of dark brown leather trews, brown buckskin boots and a soft brown leather jerkin and handed them to me. I took them from him and hesitated as he grinned at me.
"Turn around then," I prompted. "I'm not stripping naked with you oggling me."
"Shame." He turned his back and I hurriedly stripped out of my wet clothes and pulled on the ones he had given me. They were a surprisingly good fit although the trews were skin tight and I worried about my thighs bursting out of them.
Robin whistled softly, rocking on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back, seemingly lost in thought as I got dressed.
"So are you really a witch?" he asked, his voice sounding slightly distant. I shrugged.
"Don't know. Replace the first letter with a B and you're about there, I guess," I muttered, lacing up the boots. I stood up and brushed myself off. "So tell me again why you rescued me, oh great hero?" I repeated. "What's in it for you?" He shrugged.
"Because your friends asked. Because I am a fool. Because Allan appealed to my sense of honour and chivalry and urged me to go on the grounds that the tale will give yet more hope to the poor folk of Nottingham. Because I was intrigued by the appearance of three young ladies from a place that is not like our own and I was annoyed because you had walked out on me earlier. Or it could just be the fact that I haven't had a woman in weeks and I thought you would be so grateful for the rescue that you would bed me." He turned to me and grinned.
"I'm not sleeping with you," I warned him. He shrugged.
"Your friends have already accepted my offer of joining my band," he said softly, squatting down on the floor in front of me. "What if I told you that I would only allow you to stay if you bedded me? What if I were to cast you out if you were to refuse me and you would have to throw yourselves on the mercy of the Sheriff of Nottingham?"
"I would say fuck you and fuck your little gang," I said softly. "And then I would kick your arse." Well, blind bravado had gotten me out of difficult situations before, but it was easier to be brave when everybody was drunk. I wasn't going to talk my way out of this one so easily.
"You think you can beat me?" he asked, smiling although his eyes were glinting dangerously. "So be it. Madam, I challenge you to a duel. If you can out-shoot me, you can stay." I almost panicked then; I had only ever held a bow once and granted, I had got almost all of my arrows in the gold that time, it had been one of the flashy modern sports bows, not a crude, handmade longbow. Still, I reasoned, what was the worst that could happen? Apart from being burned at the stake, of course. If he tried to kick us out then there was always the option of extreme violence. Or cheating. How one would cheat in an archery contest I didn't know and I didn't have any cash on me to bribe anybody, but call it pride or sheer bloody-mindedness, I was not going to back down from this challenge.
"You're on," I said and followed him back to camp.