She remains quiet, her eyes slowly drifting to the flames. A few moments pass before she finally looks back at me.
"I don't really know where to start." she says.
"Your real name would be a good place," I suggest. "And no lies this time."
She flushes slightly but answers. "My real name is Marian."
I nod and smile at her. "Marian suits you. In fact, it's almost as pretty as you are."
She rolls her eyes. "It's not as if I haven't heard that one before," she laughs.
I hold my hands up in resignation. "Hey, you never know. I had to give it a shot," I laugh back. "But really, you are quite beautiful. I can't believe I didn't know you were a woman right away."
She looks down, slightly embarrassed. "Thank you. Normally, people will just accept what you tell them without question, too preoccupied to search deeper. That's what I was betting on, at least."
"Well, I suppose you had me fooled, but only momentarily," I tell her. "I did think you were very slight for a man, and far too pretty."
As I pause, she is quiet, and another question pops into my head. "Did you disguise your true age as well?"
She shakes her head. "That I didn't have to cover up. I really am eighteen years old."
I nod and recall what she had said moments before. "Remember a few moments ago when I was looking at your wound?" I ask, and she nods.
"Well, when I found the cloth covering your chest, you said that you had to get away or something, and that this was the only way. What did you mean by that? Are you...running from something?" I suggest.
During my question, her expression has grown serious. "It's true that I am running from something, someone, to be exact."
She pauses and looks into the fire again. After a moment, she glances back at me and gives a small smile at my exasperated expression.
"Is that really all you're going to say?" I question. "I realize that this is personal territory, but I promise I'm not a threat to you. You can tell me the truth. Maybe I could even help you."
She thinks for a moment and then continues hesitantly. "It is a somewhat long story, but I suppose we have time."
Marian sits up a bit and continues. "My father Damon was a great man. He grew up on a farm in Carlton, and because of his skills as an amateur swordsman, he was chosen to be the pageboy for an older knight. He travelled with this knight until his early twenties, at which point he joined the forces of Richard the Lionheart. During the revolts against King Henry II, my father fought loyally alongside Richard at Aquitaine, where he met and married my mother, Isabeau. Upon their victorious return to England, my father was knighted, Sir Bruin of Carlton. Regretfully, I never knew my mother- she died giving birth to me, so my father raised me with the help of my maids. He and Richard remained good friends, and we often spent our days at the castle. Unfortunately, my father caught ill and died when I was only eleven. I loved him very much, and it is still hard to talk about him."
She stops ands swallows thickly but continues. "Luckily, I was close to the royal family because of the camaraderie between Richard and my father. I took up full residence at the castle, and became somewhat of a daughter to Richard. A few years later, King Henry died and, as you know, Richard ascended the throne, making me part of the king's ward."
I tense at this information. It dawns upon me that only hours ago I threatened and forcibly indentured this girl, and she is ward of the King of England! To be fair, she was in disguise. Also, I remember that I did save her life in this skirmish with the rogues, and I hope that is penance enough for my earlier actions. Unaware of my internal conversation, Marian continues her story.
"Richard was a very good man, and, during the rare times he was in Nottingham, he cared for me like a father would."
She pauses with distant expression on her face, as if she is recalling good memories.
A log in the fire suddenly drops, and she snaps out of it, she continuing to speak. "Well, as you know, King Richard went on a crusade to the Holy Land soon after his coronation, leaving some of his land, Nottingham included, to his brother Prince John. As I heard that Prince John would be living in the castle I was excited for his arrival- I thought anyone related to Richard would be a good person. And, well, he just...wasn't. I guess he just didn't like me very much. Well, he really doesn't like anyone; all he cares about is money," she gives this new information with a nervous look on her face.
Not sure if I want to know the answer, I ask anyway. "What did he do to you?"
"Well, you see, Uncle John has quite the temper, and sometimes he was rather physical..." she looks embarrassed as her voice trails off.
The meaning of her words hits me, and I see red. How could someone ever lay a violent hand on this slip of a girl? My blood boils. In my anger I haven't noticed that she's stopped talking and is peeking at me in fear. My temper cools somewhat as I register the look on her face.
"P-please don't be mad," she stutters. "It really wasn't that much. I mean, I ran away before anything really brutal happened," she whispers.
As I listen to her plead with me, realization dawns upon me. She is frightened by my display of anger. It occurs to me that she most likely has learned to fear violence as a result of anger. Noting this, I mentally vow to help reteach her, showing her how emotions should be expressed without fear. For the time being, I give her a small smile of reassurance.
Struggling to reign in my anger, I address her. "Well, I'm certainly glad you ran away. It was very brave of you to leave your home behind and come to the forest alone. Yes, very brave, but bordering on stupid," I scold. "There are many bad people who frequent this forest, the band of rogues who just attacked us being some of them. I'm just glad I found you first," I tell her.
"Which reminds me," I continue, "I suppose I should apologize for the way we met. As bad as it sounds, I was entertained at your expense. Had I known you were a girl, or royalty for that matter, and the nature of your situation, I would not have threatened you so. Although it is embarrassing to mention now, it goes without saying that you are not my servant. I don't even know why I proposed that in the first place. Perhaps part of me thought it would keep someone as defenseless as yourself safe, if you were to travel with me in the forest. Anyhow, I..." I pause because I know I'm rambling.
She smiles softly at me. "It's really alright. Perhaps for a moment I did fear for my safety when you pressed your arrow into my back," she pauses with a laugh as I blush, ashamed, then continues, "but I can't forget how you have just saved my life. For this I am eternally grateful, and, don't worry, all the rest is forgotten. I know you're a good man, Beck."
My concerns are assuaged at her speech, yet I feel a pang of guilt, as I have lied about who I am and she still doesn't know. I fear that once she discovers my true identity, she will rethink her opinion of my character. Though I have put it off thus far, I know it is time to reveal to her who I really am.
"Listen, Marian," I begin, "about that. Just as you lied to protect your identity, I did the same. Since you have been so truthful with me, I feel I should pay you the same courtesy."
She looks concerned as I speak but waits for me to continue.
"Well," I say, "you've probably heard of me, and, being the king's ward, I fear I have not been shed in the best light. Nevertheless, I will tell you. I am most commonly referred to as...Robin Hood."
She starts as I tell her of my identity, and blanches somewhat. Giving her a moment to digest this information, I slowly prod the fire again. Looking back at her face a few moments later, I see she has regained some of her color and only looks slightly concerned.
I have to know what she's thinking. "So...what do you think?"
She pauses for a second, staring at the flames. "Well, it is true that your reputation of robbing the nobility and being somewhat of a scoundrel is notorious. As a part of the king's ward, you are correct that what I have been told about you has not exactly been positive."
She looks at me and continues. "However, I believe in judging people on their actions, and not vapid gossip. And the way you have treated me has been nothing like what I've heard about you from my uncle. You have been considerate, and have even saved my life. In fact, you have treated me better than my John ever has thus far, so I have no reason to fear you simply because you have revealed to me your true identity."
She stops, thinking, and smiles at me. "Although plenty of the nobility condemn you, I have heard what the people of Nottingham have said about you. You're their hero, always watching out for them. And I've also heard you're the best archer in all of England. It seems I am lucky to have even seen you in person. They say you're elusive like a shadow, always there but unable to be seen, like a flash in the corner of their eyes. By the time they turn around, nothing is out of place, just like you were never there at all."
She pauses and continues. "Oh, to think of what my maid would say if I told her I'd seen you. You and your unruly brown hair and piercing green fox eyes. She'd probably scold me but secretly want to swoon," she says with a laugh.
As expected, my reputation has preceded me, though I am lucky her head isn't only full of the vile notions of Prince John. Of course he and the other nobility despise me. I take their treasures under their very noses and give them to the poor people of Nottingham. After all, if John wasn't overtaxing us all to gain the capital required to revolt against his own brother Richard, I wouldn't have to steal from him. I have heard he is a greedy man, but now I know he is an abusive one as well. If reputation is what we all judge each other on these days, well then he is the lowest of men.
For a spell Marian and I look at each other, each seeing the other in a new light as our true identities have been revealed. Catching myself staring, I speak to her.
"Well, Marian," I start, "I now realize the nature of your situation- how you cannot return home and how you are quite defenseless. To make matters worse, you have been injured. It goes without saying that I will take on the responsibility of your safety; it is the noble thing to do."
What I say is true. It really is the noble thing to do, but there is another reason I want to protect her. In my head I acknowledge that she is utterly beguiling; she is beautiful and brave, and I can see her inner passionate nature. Plus she in kind and considerate, and does not hold the same backwards views as most of the nobility. It is only natural that I should want to spend more time with her.
"I would refuse your offer because of it's burdensome nature, yet I know that your words are true. I am certainly very defenseless in this forest, and I do not have a place to go," she says. "Perhaps it was stupid of me to leave with so little preparations in place, but...simply put, I feared for my life in the hands of Prince John. He was so violent that I was afraid he would get...carried away one day."
At the reminder of the abuses committed against her, I am seething again, yet now I know to hide my anger behind a calm facade.
I breathe deeply and continue. "It makes complete sense, Marian, and I probably would have done the same. So...I suppose that you will travel with me for the time being, perhaps until we can find you a suitable place to live, somewhere hidden of course."
She nods gratefully. "Yes, I agree that that would be the best option. Thank you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," I reply.
We both stare at the flames for a moment.
"Well, we should try to get some sleep. You'll need as much rest as possible for your wound to heal," I gesture towards her stomach.
"Tomorrow," I continue, "we'll be walking some more, though not as much as today. I'll be taking you to my camp, if you're okay with that."
She nods and I continue. "I must warn you, however, that I am not the only one who lives there. I'm sure you have heard of the men who accompany me. Some call them the 'Merry Men'."
She looks concerned and maybe a bit fearful. "How many men are there?"
"Well," I start, "there's my right-hand man, Little John. Then there's Tuck, Will, and Alan."
"Are there any women in your camp?" she asks.
"No," I say sheepishly, her eyes widening at my response.
"However, I tell her, "You needn't worry about your safety or your...virtue." I look away quickly. "My men are all very good people, with excellent senses of character. I mean, they're not saints, but I can assure you that none of them would dream of harming a lady such as yourself, and a royal one at that. I know it may not sound appealing, but it is our only option for the time being."
She nods slowly, still looking somewhat concerned, but at least not fearful anymore. "I will go," she says. "I trust your word, Robin. You've done nothing to break that trust so far."
I give her a reassuring smile and turn to prod the fire again.
"Robin," I hear her say softly.
I turn around and look at her. "Thank you, again," she whispers, "for saving my life and everything. And treating my wound, of course."
"You're welcome," I respond, "And I would do it again."
She smiles and pillows her head on her hands, closing her eyes. I grab my cloak and drape it over her, then stretch out next to her, resting my hands behind my head. Although I try to keep my ears open for any unusual sounds, I can't help myself; after this long day, I drift easily into sleep.