The changing of the guard signals a small movement in the alcove behind a statue of the Virgin Mary. The new guard is drunk; he spent his last pay at the local tavern. He holds his breath as his superior passes; hope that he won't notice the smell of ale on his breath. His superior officer passes by his chest puffed out importantly, also because he is holding his breath for a similar reason. He doesn't want to lose the respect of his men. It's a familiar fault found in the castle guards, they get paid more than most. Unfortunately for the residents, drunkenness means that they aren't at full attention. This also means that they didn't notice the shadow that slid silently out from behind the statue and crept down the hall.
The silent figure in a long black cloak stealthily slides down the twisted passages. Is he here for good or evil? No one can tell whether his intentions are good or not. He is headed for a door. This is not a special door. It is plain and simple when compared to some of the other entryways in the castle, simple hand-carved mahogany with no particular markings. The hood of the masked figure slides off revealing a masculine face with a well-carved jawbone, a twenty-four-hour beard and a few leaves from sleeping in the forest the previous night. His sun-bleached, brown hair frames a face that's as dirty as though he's been in hiding all day, probably because he has been. His hands are strong and well used, definitely not the hands of a nobleman.
He replaces the hood and re-adjusts the cape around his shoulders. He only wears the cape for decoration, it's only to make him feel more professional, although he is already as professional as they come. He is a master of his game. He had been waiting behind a statue since daybreak. When night finally fell and the guards closed the outer gates and turned their faces outward he knew it was safe to come out. The guards were more worried about an outside attack and that they would be caught sleeping on their feet than they were about and interior intruder. The outskirts of the forest almost touch the castle walls and they are cautious about what comes out of that forest. Most of the guards are superstitious anyways.
The hooded man reaches the door and silently slides out a pouch of tools. He tries the door, softly pushing on the door near the inner rim of the frame, locked. He seemed to be expecting this. A small tool appears in a gloved but experienced hand. It is a small, strong wire, capable of picking any lock. CLANG! A larger metal tool escapes from his open, black leather pouch, slamming hard against the hard stone of the hallway floor. He snatches up the tool and darts behind a nearby suit of armor, just in time.
A drunken guard peeks around the corner, holding his spear awkwardly, expecting the worst. The smell of ale on his breath catches on the breeze from an open window and stinks up the whole hall. It's doubtful that he will report this small incident to his captain; he probably thinks he imagined the whole thing. He silently staggers back to his post.
Cursing quietly under his breath our masked intruder remembers that the queen's chambers are just around that very corner. The guard was most likely stationed there to protect her from intruders like himself. He waits another few minutes and glides out from behind the empty knight's shield. He reaches the door and again slides out the wire and begins to pick the lock again taking several minutes because absolute silence is required.
With a small, barely audible click the door swings open to reveal a lavishly decorated room. It is the sitting room of one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting; a higher stationed one at that. There is a single candle burning on a nightstand in the middle of the room. Dim coals still glow in the grate in the huge fireplace. The old door lets out a small squeak as the man in black slides into the room and shuts the door silently. A lady in an intricately embroidered nightdress, who was dozing in an armchair by the candle, jerks awake.
"Who's there? Show yourself!" she frighteningly demands in a high-pitched voice to the smothering darkness. She receives no reply from the unyielding, seemingly empty, room. Shivering she stands up from her chair and puts some kindling on the remaining coals. Slowly they catch fire, lighting up the room with a cheery glow, revealing intricate tapestries lining the walls depicting fantastic woodland scenes and a marvelous four-poster bed at the back of the room, stacked with pillows with the corner of the down comforter ready to admit the patron to slumber. The lady crouches down next to the fire, warming her hands over the tiny flame. A black-gloved hand claps over her mouth as she is brought to her feet.
"I'm sorry I startled you, my lady." A low voice gently soothes the frightened young woman, "I only did not want you to call out." The gloved hand comes off the lady's now smiling mouth. She, reaching up, gently removes the glove from a strong hand. There is a delicately woven Celtic ring on his index finger, silver, thin, and well worn. As she kisses the palm of his now bare hand the man's other hand comes up, expecting the same treatment. As the other glove is being removed strong arms encircle the lady in a tender embrace, warming her like no fire ever could.
"Oh, Robin!" the lady sighs, "You came! I so hoped that it was you!" She turns her face upward to look into his face. Reaching up she slides the hood off his head revealing his eyes, blue-gray and sparkling in the firelight. She gently unhooks the black cape and drapes it over the overstuffed armchair. His strong arms slide around her shoulders as hers go around his waist.
"I could not go another day without you, Marian." He lovingly whispers as he pulls her close. Her long, dark brown hair falls from its bun to hand freely down her back as he tenderly kisses her, revealing just how true this statement was.
"Nor could I," she replies as they pull away, "How did you get into the castle? They locked up for the night hours ago. How in the world did you manage?" She gazes wonderingly at him as he starts to respond.
"I came this morning," he answers with a half-smile. "I found this wonderful statue of the Virgin Mary with some crawl-space behind her and I've been there all day." He sounds casual as if it were a lot easier than it really was. The truth was that he still had stiff legs from the cramps he had acquired while crouching down for over twelve hours.
"Which one was it?" she questions curiously.
"Oh, let me see, the one whose hair is not quite as long as yours, her face is not as beautiful, her clothes are not as fine, her nose is much larger, and her eyes are empty marbles of stone with no expression and no comparison at all to yours." He laughs, knowing that this was less than helpful. She smiles understandingly and waits for him to continue talking. This seems to be a routine. It isn't, but neither of them could care. They are just comfortable being around each other. Everything they do seems to be rehearsed because it is so smooth. They glide about the room in each other's arms, dancing to the silent music of the dark night.
"May I humor you, my lady?" he smiles and kisses her hand as he sits in the armchair and takes her on his lap, preparing to tell her his story.
"You may, but only if you will eat something first" she gently scolds, knowing that he's had nothing to eat all day. Picking up the shrinking candle she walks over to a small table in the corner, hidden in the shadows. She sets the candle on the tray and slowly brings it over. Setting it in his lap she settles herself on the footstool nearby.
"Sorry it isn't much," she apologizes, "I had more of an appetite than usual today." He smiles as he picks up a biscuit, stuffing it in his mouth. He tries to eat slow and show the manners that he had been taught when he was a child, but hunger overtakes him and the remainder of his lady's supper is gone as fast as he can swallow it. She smiles as she takes the corner of her flowing sleeve and dabs the food from the corner of his mouth.
"Was that sufficient?" she politely questions, acting the perfect hostess even though she knows that he could have eaten five times that amount quite easily. He sweeps her off her feet and settles back in the armchair with her cradled in his arms like a child. They talk for hours about everything that has happened since they saw each other last, nearly three weeks ago. Eventually she falls asleep in his arms and is gently placed on the bed.
He tucks the covers in around her and kisses her forehead. Smiling, he wraps his cape around himself, puts the trap back on the corner table, tosses some more wood on the fire, and places a small object and a note on her bedside table.
He slides out to her balcony as quietly as he can, not wanting to make a sound so as not to wake her but still wishing that she would wake so they could talk some more. He slowly lowers himself down through the narrow window onto the balcony below, the king's suite. He smiles as he listens to the king's snores, loud enough to wake the dead. No wonder the queen sleeps in a suite of her own. He removes a coil of rope from behind yet another statue, this one a gargoyle and lowers himself down another level.
On the battlements below he pauses to "borrow" a half-full canteen of ale from a sleeping guard and lowers himself the rest of the way down the wall. He gives his rope a shake and catches the end of it, coiling it up and hooks it on back on his belt. He glances one more time up at Marian's window, smiles to himself, and glides off into the safety of the forest.
The next morning Marian wakes to the new dawn's light and rolls over, half expecting Robin to still be seated in the armchair but knowing at the same time that he had to leave so as not to get caught. She smiles, remembering the stories of his adventures that he related to her the previous night. She pushes off the covers and gingerly touches her feet to the cold stone floor. The fire went out hours ago. As she puts her hand on the table to help her get out of the warm enfolds of her bed, she touches something cold. Lifting up her hand she smiles. He left her a gift from the forest.
Her sweetheart, Robin, had Little John maker her a silver ring, just like his. The metal undoubtedly came from some rich man's pocket, melted down into an exact replica of his own. Despite Little John's size he had large, steady hands that could complete a piece down to the smallest details. Her ring was exactly like Robin's with the exception that hers shone like the bright new sun coming up over the eastern horizon. Since it was exact it was also too large for her dainty fingers. Robin had thoughtfully foreseen this difficulty and had provided a long, silver chain so she could wear it as a necklace.
She smiles as she attaches the chain around her neck. She reads the note he left as she glides over to the window. "Always remember, I will love you forever and ever…"