The Erotic Adventures Of Robin Hood
by Ann Douglas
An unusual quiet filled the air of Sherwood Forest as the
heavily armed band of travelers made their way through the woods.
Watchful Knights scanned the treetops; ever alert for signs of the
dreaded outlaws that inhabited these groves. This band was but
the latest gathered by the Lord High Sheriff to deliver the tax
revenues to Nottingham Castle. A task made near impossible by the
advent of the outlaw, Robin Hood.
No one had ever personally seen Robin Hood, or was even
sure who he really was. It was rumored that he was Robert of
Locksley, returned in secret from the Crusades in the Holy Land.
All anyone was really sure of was that he had rallied the men of
Sherwood around him and had thrice taken Prince John’s gold.
“I hope those outlaws do try to challenge us,” the heavily
armored Knight who was clearly in charge of the assemblage
thundered. “I look forward to giving them a taste of my steel.”
“Well said, Sir Guy,” the Lord High Sheriff of Nottingham
agreed. “But against a force this size, I doubt those Saxon Dogs
would dare show themselves. They are after all, mostly cowards.”
“You are probably right, my Lord Sheriff. It is one thing for
them to harass these local bumpkins, but these are Prince John’s
finest that surround us. I fear my sword shall not taste outlaw
blood this day.” he replied as he stroked his rich dark beard.
“Death, .. bloodshed, is that all you men ever think of?” said
a soft feminine voice from behind the two. “Isn’t it enough that
you take the very soul from these poor people. Must you take what
little life they have as well.”
Both of them turned to view the speaker. The Lady Marian
Fitzswalter was a young woman of 17 years. The ward of good King
Richard, the brunette had been promised in marriage to Sir Guy of
Gisbourne. A joining that was to take place at the end of their
journey. It was a union that she did not look forward to with much
pleasure.
“I think the Lady Marian has too much in the way of
sympathies for these Saxon scum.” the Sheriff remarked with a
sneer. “She would do better to remember her Norman heritage.”
“Not to worry, my Lord Sheriff. Her tune will change after
I have taken her to the marriage bed and she learns where her
true duty lies.” Gisbourne said, a measure of both anger and lust in
his voice.
The image of the marriage bed of which Gisbourne spoke
sent a cold chill through Marian’s body. She pulled her blue wrap
tighter in an attempt to erase the thought. A part of her wished
the outlaws would attack their band. Better the cold of the grave
then that of Gisbourne’s bed. No man had ever touched her, and if
a merciful God had any pity, none ever would.
Holding tight the reins of her horse, Marian dropped back
among the other women of their party. It was easier to endure
their mindless chatter than the proud boasting of Gisbourne and
his cohorts. It was a small temporary refuge.
“Sir Guy!” called out a soldier coming toward them at a
gallop. “Sir Guy!”
Such was the apprehension in the rider’s voice that every
man within earshot reached for their weapon. In seconds he’d
pulled up in front of Gisbourne and the Sheriff.
“Speak man!” Sir Guy thundered. “And mind that you have
reason for charging into our number in such a manner.”
“The outlaws, Milord,” he said in half gasps. “The outlaws
wait in ambush for us, not a half hours ride before us. I have seen
them.”
“You have seen them?” the Sheriff asked. “I’ve not heard
of any man who has seen them when they do not wish to be seen.”
“You give these rabble too much credit, my Lord Sheriff.”
Sir Guy interrupted. “They have been lucky so far, nothing more.
Now that luck has turned against them. We have more than enough
men to see the last of their annoyance.”
“But the women in our charge,” the Sheriff reminded him.
“To say nothing of Prince John’s gold. It will mean our heads if we
were to fail to deliver it.”
Sir Guy paused before responding. If nothing else, the
Sheriff of Nottingham always saw the practical side. Putting an
end to the outlaws would indeed be quite a feather in Gisbourne’s
cap, perhaps enough to win him a more influential seat on the High
Council. Yet at the same time, the loss of the year’s taxes could
indeed lead to the executioner’s block. Such was the fate of the
leader of the last two expeditions.
“Loathe as I am to admit it,” Gisbourne finally said. “You
may be right, my Lord Sheriff. We dare not risk the gold. Still it
boils my blood to give up a chance to run through these Saxon
brigands.”
“Perhaps there is a way to accomplish both tasks.” a
soft-spoken voice said from behind them.
Both men turned at the realization that the Lady Marian had
returned to their company. Sir Guy seemed annoyed at her
presence, but the Sheriff seemed interested in what she might
have to say.
“Would it not be possible,” she began, ignoring the look of
displeasure on her betrothed’s face. “To send a force of soldiers
ahead to meet the outlaws, springing our own ambush if you may.
While at the same time, have the rest of our party proceed along a
different path. I once traveled this road with my father and as I
remember, the road forks but a short distance ahead.”
“A capital idea!” the Sheriff exclaimed. “Capital indeed.
You are a lucky man, Sir Guy, to be gaining a wife who is as
intelligent as she is beautiful.”
“There is such a thing as too much intelligence.” Gisbourne
remarked under his breath. “Especially in a woman.”
“What say you, Sir Guy,” the Sheriff continued. “Shall we
take the advice of our most gracious lady. I believe it to be a
sound plan.”
“I had been considering something quite similar myself when
the Lady did interrupt our discussion. ” Gisbourne said in an
attempt to save face.
“Then all the more reason to try it.” the Sheriff added.
“If I might make an added suggestion?” Marian inquired.
“Of course.” the Sheriff said, cutting off whatever
comments Sir Guy was about to make.
“These outlaws would no doubt be suspicious and alarmed if
they were but to see only armed troops in the band that followed
this road.” she said. “I think perhaps we might have one or two of
our wagons go with the troop.”
“Yes, of course, another excellent idea.” the Sheriff
beamed.
“I would also like to suggest that I go with them as well.”
she added. “How much more lulled into complacency might they be
if they saw a lady of the court riding near the head of the column
as I have done so far on this journey.”
“It would be a sound strategy,” the Sheriff said. “Quite
sound indeed. But I’m afraid it would be far too dangerous for you
Milady. Far too dangerous indeed. Wouldn’t you say so, Sir Guy?”
Gisbourne looked hard at Marian’s face. He could guess why
she’d made the suggestion. It was no secret to him that she might
prefer the cold of the grave to what she imagined would be the
cold of his bed. It was a preference he was not about to offer her
the opportunity to express.
“It is a good idea,” he said, playing for the moment the
affectionate groom to be. “But the Sheriff is quite right when he
says that it is far too hazardous an undertaking for Milady. I
would suggest instead that we have one of the servants, perhaps
that girl Jane since she most resembles Marian, wear one of her
dresses and ride with the column.”
Marian found it surprising that Gisbourne would pick Jane
for the risky undertaking. It was no secret, to those who cared to
know, that he had been taking her to his bed these past few
months. Marian wondered if he bedded her because of Jane’s
resemblance to her. Or because, as she’d heard some of the other
girls discussing, Jane was in the habit of performing various
heathen sexual acts. Including, they’d whispered, copulating with
a man using her mouth. Then again, Gisbourne believed he was
about to possess the real thing. What need would he have with a
substitute now.
“It’s settled then.” the Sheriff said as he slapped a gloved
hand against his leg. “I will of course remain with the gold as it is
my duty. Of course I do envy you Sir Guy, for having the
opportunity to test your steel against the Saxons.”
Gisbourne again looked into Marian’s face, seeing the brief
glimmer of renewed hope that appeared there. If he were to fall
in combat, always a possibility, she would be free of him.
“As much as my heart yearns to lead my troops in battle,”
Sir Guy said as he watched Marian’s brief hope fade from her
face. “I fear my first duty lies at the side of Milady, insuring her
safety. We have an appointment with the Bishop of the Black
Canon on the morrow, an engagement that I’m sure the Lady
Marian would be heartbroken were we to miss it. No, my Captain
of Arms will lead our troops. He is more than capable of dealing
with these rabid dogs.”
As Sir Guy and the Sheriff selected the men for each group
and supervised the transfer of gold from some of the wagons,
Marian retired to her wagon with Jane to select an outfit. The
young servant, only a year younger than Marian, pulled off her
simple dress with abandon, revealing the supple nude form beneath
it. The older girl couldn’t help but look with curiosity at the naked
girl. To see just how much she did resemble her. Jane’s breasts
were a little smaller than hers, Marian decided, but capped with
much larger nipples. The younger girl was also much hairier around
her sex than Marian, and of a darker shade as well.
Without even looking at some of the outfits, Jane cast them
aside. She seemed to know just what she was looking for. Marian
wondered if that impression was because the girl was looking for a
particular dress she had once seen Marian wear, or had she worn
some of these clothes before. She speculated just how far Sir
Guy had carried her resemblance.
“This one!” the girl called out as she clutched one of
Marian’s finest to her naked breasts.
“As you wish.” Marian replied to her choice.
Try as she could, Marian couldn’t feel any malice toward the
girl. Uneducated as she was, Jane didn’t have the wits to realize
how Gisbourne had used her. Or how he was sacrificing her now.
That pretty dress she now pulled over her head might well be
stained red with her blood before the day was over.
“Do I look all right, Milady?” Jane asked as she laced up the
dress.
“You look like a lady born.” Marian said with a forced smile.
The smile on Jane’s face was genuine.
Ten minutes later, Marian watched her double leave with the
rest of the decoy troop. A small part of her still wished she could
have gone in Jane’s place.
“Remember men,” Sir Guy called out to his troops as they
moved away. “Twenty pieces of gold to the man who brings back
this so called Robin Hood’s head on a pike!”
A number of his men cheered at his generosity. A larger
number hoped that they’d be the one to collect.
Looking up at the mid-day Sun in the sky, Sir Guy figured
that over an hour had passed since they’d split their force. The
Sheriff agreed with his assessment.
“By now those outlaw bones must lie bleaching in this sun.”
Gisbourne boasted. “I look forward to hanging Robin Hood’s head
outside my castle as an example to others.”
“Either that or our own men now feed the worms.” the
Sheriff replied in a moment of pessimism.
“Bah, like the Lady Marian you give these Saxon scum far
too much credit.” Gisbourne said in anger. “They might have
scared small bands of provincials, but they fall easily enough when
faced with Prince John’s own.”
“I hope you are right.”
“Of course I’m right,” Gisbourne bellowed. “I’d wager half
the gold in my purse that there isn’t one of those cowards within
...”
Gisbourne didn’t have the chance to finish his wager as a
sudden volley of arrows from the surrounding woods split the air.
More than a score of their escort fell from their mounts, hitting
the ground before any of them could realize what was happening.
“Any man that reaches for a weapon will find an arrow
instead!” called out a voice from high overhead. “Although in your
case Gisbourne, I’d be more than happy to put one through your
black heart.”
Automatically, Gisbourne had reached for his sheathed
sword when he saw the soldier in front of him fall. He stayed his
hand when he heard himself threatened directly.
“Ah a pity,” said a deeper, stronger voice from just to the
Sheriff’s right. “I was so hoping you’d be stupid enough to draw a
weapon.”
The owner of the voice stepped out from behind the shrubs.
Six foot four and two hundred and thirty pounds, all of it muscle,
the stranger was dressed from head to toe in forest brown. Almost
two score years, the only sign of his age appeared to be a small
puff of gray in his dark beard. His only weapon was a staff as tall
as he was.
“You are Robin Hood?” Gisbourne asked in disbelief.
A deep laugh filled the air as the tall man reacted to Sir
Guy’s question.
“Me, Robin Hood..?” he laughed. “That’s the funniest thing
I’ve heard all day. John Little is my name, but my friends
hereabout know me as Little John.”
“How can the outlaws be here?” the Sheriff asked as the
reality of their situation began to finally dawn on him. “Our scouts
sighted them on the other road.”
“That wouldn’t be the road where you planned to split your
forces and take us by surprise, would it?” said another man
dressed in red and yellow that exited the forest from the other
side of the road. “And no, before you ask, I’m not Robin Hood
either.”
“How could he know what we planned?” the Sheriff said to
his compatriot.
“It’s quite simple, my dear Sheriff,” the man who further
identified himself as Will Scarlett said. “You should really take
more care when you discuss matters of importance. I was standing
not ten paces away from you and Sir Guy when you made your plans.
Had I wanted, I could’ve planted my dagger in your breast with a
single thrust.”
“If neither of you is Robin Hood, then where is he?” ask
Maid Marian as she urged her horse a little forward.
“He is about, Milady,” Little John answered. “Watching
over us as we go about our business this day.”
“This is your fault!” Sir Guy turned and bellowed at Marian,
totally ignoring that he had tried to make her plan his just a few
hours before. “The devil take me for ever listening to your advice.”
“I wouldn’t raise my voice to the Lady if I were you, Sir
Guy.” the disembodied voice that had first greeted them echoed.
“Else the devil may take you far sooner than you may think.”
Gisbourne studied the face of his betrothed, searching for
any indication she might give to the outlaws that she wished the
devil would take him. Thankfully, she seemed more interested in
the source of that mysterious voice than in deliverance from her
fate.
“Little John, see to our guests.” the voice concluded.
At that, two dozen woodsmen emerged from both sides of
the road, quickly disarming those of Gisbourne’s men still standing.
Sir Guy and the Sheriff were the last to be stripped of their arms.
“And now you will slay us in cold blood like the cowards you
are.” Gisbourne said.
“Sir Guy, my dear Sir Guy,” Little John said as he stepped
forward. “You do make it so very tempting. But unfortunately we
do not kill men who have laid down their arms.”
“I’d be willing to make an exception!” cried out a voice from
the crowd.
“Now, now my friends,” John cautioned. “What kind of hosts
would we be if we failed to invite Sir Guy and his friend the
Sheriff to share supper with us this night. After all, they have
made such a fine donation of gold to the good people of Sherwood.
Because of this, the rest of your band may continue their journey.”
Whatever response Sir Guy made was drowned out by the
thunderous laughter of Merry Men. One of whom ran down the
road and whispered something in Little John’s ear. The tall man
seemed greatly surprised by the message.
“It seems, my Lady Marian,” John said as he stepped past
the two men and addressed his comments to the blue garbed
woman. “That Robin would also like the pleasure of your company as
well. Would you care to share our evening meal?”
“And if I decide I would rather not?” she asked.
“Then I will wish you a good day and allow you to be on your
way with Sir Guy’s troop.”
Marian turned and looked over her shoulder at the burly
band of soldiers that had survived the attack. In her mind she
conjured up the image two nights past when their party had
stopped at the Inn of the Red Lantern. Unable to sleep herself,
Marian had slipped past her dozing guard and gone for a walk.
Hearing the sounds of merriment from the stable, she had
curiously taken a peek through a window.
Even now, the shock of what she’d seen made her light
headed. There, lying on a rough horse blanket, were the nude
bodies of two women. Marian recognized them as the daughters of
the old innkeeper. The younger of the two, a small-breasted girl
with blond hair, was riding atop the cock of Gisbourne’s Captain.
In her hands she held the manhoods of his two aides. Both of them
stood stripped of their uniforms. It was obvious that they were
waiting for their superior to finish so they might each take a turn.
The older girl was much larger, with mounds the size of a
man’s head. An assessment that was easy to make as each was
indeed pressed against a man’s head, held in place by a nipple in
each of their mouths. Standing above her, another trooper held
his erect cock in his hand, stroking it to a full hardness. The girl
spread her legs wide to receive him within her.
A horrified Marian had run back to the Inn. As she passed
Sir Guy’s chamber, moving quietly as possible, she paused when she
heard a moan from within. She thought, or even hoped for a brief
moment, that Sir Guy might be having an attack of sorts. Much like
that which suddenly felled Sir Eric of Legrand last winter. But as
she listened for a few moments more, she realized that the moan
she’d heard had been one of lust not pain. Gisbourne had again
taken Jane to his bed, knowing full well that Marian was supposed
to be sleeping just across the hall.
As those memories flashed through her mind, she wondered
what fate she might expect from these blackguards of Gisbourne
now that they had lost both the gold and the presence of Sir Guy
to hold them in check. She might even find herself, however
unwillingly, in the same situation as those wenches at the Inn. And
there was only one of her.
“I accept your invitation.” she answered, deciding that
better the company of outlaws than Gisbourne’s men.
“Excellent,” Little John laughed. “Then let us be on our way.
The sun drops lower in the sky with each passing hour and we’ve
already worked up a hearty appetite.”
With the gold wagons in tow, the Merry Men and their
reluctant guests made their way down winding paths. Gisbourne
and the Sheriff tried to take note of the roads they took, but soon
gave up the effort. Only a fool or a man born to them attempted
to travel the maze that was Sherwood. It was no small reason that
few ever ventured off the main road through it.
Marian rode next to Little John at the head of the column,
preferring his silent company to that of her intended. Every once
in a while, she would ask Little John when she would get to meet
their host. John would merely answer such inquires with short
cryptic replies.
After an hours journey, the forest in front of them suddenly
opened into a large clearing. One moment all she could see were
trees seemingly stretching to the horizon. A breath later there
was a village.
As they unloaded the wagons and led off Sir Guy and the
Sheriff, Marian was turned over to the care of a plump Friar
named Tuck. If she was surprised to see a man of the church with
the outlaws, she was more so by the many women and children living
among them as well. It was not what she expected from all the
stories she’d heard. Then again, she had to consider the source of
those stories.
“Unlike your Norman brothers,” Friar Tuck said in response
her observation. “We do not make war on the helpless.”
A familiar face nearby abruptly caught her notice. A
familiar face and an even more familiar dress.
“Jane!” she cried out.
“Milady,” the serving girl said with enthusiasm as she looked
up and saw Marian. “It is good to see you again.”
The younger girl was still wearing the garment she had
borrowed earlier. Marian could not help but wonder if she looked
the same when she wore that dress. Did her nipples press so
tightly against the fabric as Jane’s did? Did men look at her the
same way she could even see the Friar looking now.
As Jane moved off, Marian looked to the Friar to explain her
presence.
“As I said Milady, we do not make war on women and
children.”
The more she saw of the small village, the more Marian was
impressed. Here were a people living in peace with each other. A
place where the strong did not necessarily prey on the weak. One
small thing did baffle her. Wherever she looked, she saw a people
that were happy but still incredibly poor. What had happened to
all the riches the outlaws had stolen over the last year? Did this
never seen Robin Hood keep them for himself.
“What profit we may gain from our endeavors, Milady, are
used to care for those under our protection. But as you see, we
need very little to be happy.” the Friar explained when she voiced
her question. “The rest is held in trust for Good King Richard, so
that we might soon gain his release and have him return to our
troubled land.”
“Richard returned,” Marian thought with excitement, her
heart suddenly uplifted. “That would almost be too much to dare
hope.”
“Milady, be careful!” the Friar called out as Marian,
distracted by her sudden flush, tripped on an exposed tree root
and fell forward onto a muddy patch of ground.
She landed with a resounding thud, but only hurt her
dignity.
“Milady, are you hurt?” Tuck asked as he helped her up.
“I will survive.” she said as she wiped some of the mud from
her face and smiled. “I’ve been told toiling in the mud is good for
the soul.”
“If Milady desires to cleanse herself from her toil,” Friar
Tuck said. “There is a warm stream but two hundred paces beyond
the clearing. I promise you none of our men will bother you in any
way.”
“Why thank you, dear Friar.” Marian replied. “And I think I
would like it if you called me Marian. All of this Milady this and
Milady that seems somewhat out of place.”
“As you wish, Milady.” the chubby Friar grinned as he
pointed out the footpath down to the stream.
Leaving the jolly Friar behind her, Marian made her way
down the trail. She stopped at the waters edge and turned about
to see if she was truly alone. Up on the ridge, she could see the
back of Friar Tuck as he sat on a fallen tree trunk, guarding her
privacy.
Sitting down on a large rock, Marian removed her sandals
and dipped her feet into the stream. The water was indeed
unseasonable warm. It had a nice comforting feel.
Soft hands reached up and removed her headpiece, laying it
down gently on the grass. Shaking her head, Marian let the full
length of her long brown hair fall free. It had been a long hard
journey and not without its excitements. The seventeen-year-old
could use a little time alone to sort it all out.
With her feet still in the running water, Marian began to
undo the laces that held her traveling outfit together. She took a
moment to again look about her, reassuring herself that she was
truly alone.
Satisfied, she pulled the last of the laces and led her
garment fall free, exposing her breasts to the cool late afternoon
air. She ran her hands over her mounds, feeling the weight of
them in her hands and running her fingers across the nipples. It
took but a brief touch to make them erect.
Ever since she had first started to develop when she was
but nine, Marian had always been secretly proud of her
endowments. The Nuns into whose care she had been entrusted
following her Mother’s death had always warned her about the sins
of lust, and how they should be avoided. The good Sisters would
certainly have been shocked had they discovered that Marian had
discovered the joys of self-pleasure by her twelfth birthday. And
practiced those joys at every opportunity.
Removing her dirt covered dress, Marian laid it over the
large rock, then moved a little further out, standing nude in the
middle of the stream. Cupping her hands, she splashed water
against her face and washed it clean. Then she repeated the
motion against the rest of her body.
The running water had felt so good against her legs that
Marian moved back into the flow, this time to the deepest portion
where the water rose to waist level. The rush of the current
pressed between her legs, exerting a pleasing pressure against her
womanhood.
It had been far too long since she’d enjoyed the privacy to
please herself. Even those nights when she had her own room in
one Inn or another, she didn’t feel comfortable enough. Not with
Gisbourne but a room away.
Starting again with her bountiful breasts, Marian ran her
hands down across her youthful body. Across her stomach they
moved, gently tickling her smooth skin. Finally she came to the
light brown patch of hair between her legs. The Royal Ward
spread her fingers across the heavy bush, noting that it was wet
for reasons having nothing to do with the stream.
Marian closed her eyes and arched her head back as she
pressed against her clit, sending a surge of warmth through her
body. With a long accustomed familiarity, she manipulated her
fingers both across and within her pussy.
“Oh yes,” she whispered to the empty air as her fingers
moved in and out. “I’ve missed this so much.”
Faster and faster her fingers moved, responding to the
increasing demands of her body. Each motion of her hands, each
entry within herself, produced both pulsating waves of ecstasy and
an unrelenting desire to reach orgasm.
“Dear Mother of God!” she gasped as her body exploded,
releasing all the passion she had held in check for so long.
Her body quaked and her legs felt weak as she dipped lower
into the water. Marian’s breath came in short gasps as she rode
the cascading waves from within. She tried to make it last as long
as possible, knowing full well that it would be but a brief moment.
But what a moment it always was.
“Mother of God, thank you.” she said in a prayer of thanks.
It had long been her belief that the ability to enjoy such
bliss had to be God’s greatest gift. And who better to thank for
that gift than Mother Mary, who had been a woman herself.
Minutes passed slowly as she let her breaths return to
normal. She dropped down low enough to let the water crest just
above her breasts. The gentle cascade of the stream washed away
the remnants of her climax.
“I better get back,” she thought as she stood to her full
height. “Least the good Friar think I fell in and come looking for
me.”
Marian had just reached the stream’s edge and the rock
upon which she had left her dress when she felt a sudden chill of
apprehension. She looked up, just as a voice appeared out of the
empty air.
“I hope the water is to Milady’s taste.” said the same
incorporeal voice that she had heard back on the road.
“Who’s there?” she called out as she quickly grabbed the
dirty dress and covered her naked breasts.
“There is no need to fear, no harm will come to you.”
continued the voice.
“Where are you?” Marian called out, shifting her gaze right
and left and finding nothing.
“Why I’m right here.” the voice said.
Marian whirled again, this time to confront the source. It
was not what she expected. Yet in her heart, she knew it could only
be one person.
“You ... are ... Robin Hood? she asked, measuring each word
carefully.
The figure that had appeared not 20 paces away, in a spot
she had just looked, stood only an inch or two taller than her own
five four. Dressed from head to toe in suit of forest green, the
stranger carried a long bow as well as a quiver of arrows. Dark and
curly reddish brown hair, cut short beneath a feathered cap,
topped a clean shaven and boyish face. At first glance, Marian
thought she was facing a teenage boy.”
“You are Robin Hood?” she repeated in even greater
disbelief.
The Outlaw in green laughed a soft laugh, stepping forward
with broad, powerful steps.
“Actually,” Robin Hood said in a voice that seemed to soften
and change with each passing step. “My name is Robyn.”
“By King Richard,” Marian exclaimed as the figure drew
close enough for her to clearly see the contours of Robyn’s body .
“You’re just a girl!”
“I’ll have you know that I’m two years older than you, Marian
Fitzswalter.” she said, her voice now totally changed. “So I’m
hardly just a girl.”
“This can’t be.” Marian said, still a little confused.
“Everyone says that Robin Hood is Robert of Locksley, returned in
secret from the Crusades.”
“That is what I wish them to believe.” Robyn smiled. “Know
that I am both his daughter and heir.”
“Then Sir Robert is dead?” Marian asked.
“No, not dead,” Robyn said as she sat down next to Marian.
“All of England does know that Richard has been held captive this
past year by allies now turned enemies. What few know as well is
that his faithful Locksley also shares his cell.”
“And you have accomplished all of this in his name.” Marian
said in astonishment. “Created a standard around which all these
good men and women have rallied.”
“Not alone I haven’t.” Robyn said. “Little John deserves a
great deal of the credit as well. I could never have done it without
his help.”
“Little John, that was the large man that led us here?”
“Yes, he is impressive, is he not?” Robyn grinned.
“Are you and he... well...”
“Me and Little John?” she laughed. “Not very likely. John
has both a wife and six children, and he loves them all. I’m not fool
enough to get myself into a situation like that. Besides, there are
other, what shall I say ... considerations that would prevent
anything like that.”
“The voice,” Marian asked, changing the subject. “How do
you change your voice and make it appear out of the air?”
“Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always had a talent for
mimicry.” Robyn said, as her voice seemed to come from behind
Marian. “It seemed a good idea to use it when addressing
outsiders. I doubt Sir Guy and the Sheriff would be impressed by
my natural voice.”
Marian nodded her head in agreement.
“And as for making it appear where I am not, well that’s just
a little trick a mage once taught me.”
“I still cannot believe that you are the scourge that has
terrified all of Nottingham.” the younger woman went on. “That
the legend is all a myth.”
“I am no myth.” Robyn said quite seriously.
“It’s said that Robin Hood is the deadliest archer in all
England.” Marian countered, displaying the independent curiosity
that so infuriated Gisbourne. “Would you claim that title as well?”
At that, Robyn stood and looked across the stream. Her
blue eyes came to rest on a small dead tree some hundred yards
distant. A small skinny thing with only two small branches left.
The thickest of which was only two inches.
“Do you see that small tree down the opposite bank?” she
asked Marian.
It took a few moments for Marian to focus on the tree in
the fading afternoon light.
“Yes I see it.”
“The right or the left.”
“What?”
“The right or the left,” Robyn repeated. “Pick a branch.”
“But why...?”
“Oh never mind.” Robyn said impatiently.
Before even another word could form on Marian’s lips, Robyn
reached into her quiver and notched two arrows to her bow. It
took but another heartbeat for her to aim. Then in the blink of an
eye, the nineteen year old released her hold on the drawstring and
sent the bolts flying into the center of each branch, cleaving them
both in two.
“That was unbelievable.” Marian gasped.
“I told you I was no myth.”
The two young women talked of a number of subjects. It
had been a very long time since Marian had the opportunity to talk
with someone of intelligence. At least someone who wanted to hear
what she had to say. Too many of the women she spent her time
with wanted only to talk of their latest conquests and how they
might please them.
“As I heard, you were to be married on the morrow.” said
Robyn. “I apologize for the delay.”
“Would be that the delay had been made permanent.”
Marian commented.
“You don’t love Gisbourne?” Robyn asked.
“I would sooner take a viper to my breast than that man to
my bed.” Marian answered in unrestrained anger.
“Knowing of Sir Guy, I can understand that.” Robyn nodded
sympathetically. “Are you a virgin?” she asked out of curiosity,
thinking that few girls as old as Marian still were.
“No man has ever touched me!” Marian said with righteous
indignation.
“That wasn’t the question I asked.” Robyn said, looking deep
into the other woman’s brown eyes. “Let me put it another way. Is
it only Gisbourne’s bed that you wish to avoid -- or is it that of any
man?”
Marian seemed to ponder the question for long seconds,
taking the time to frame an answer. When she began to speak, the
tone of resignation in her voice was more than evident.
“What I might or might not wish doesn’t matter,” she
began. “It is the way of the world. A woman may be given to a man
by her closest male relative. What desire she may carry in her
heart matters little.”
“What may be the way of the world,” Robyn corrected,
“Does not hold here in Sherwood. Within this Shire, a man or
woman is free to follow their heart. So I ask you once more. If
you could follow that which is your most secret desire, where
would it lead you?”
Marian seemed unwilling to answer. Robyn suspected it was
because she had denied the truth for so long that even now she
could not dare to give it voice. Of course the woman in green could
be wrong about her conclusion, but somehow she didn’t think so. As
with so many things in her life, the Heir of Locksley decided that
direct action was the best course.
Leaning forward, Robyn pressed her lips against Marian’s and
kissed her.
The Maids reaction was first that of shock, of a desire to
pull away. Then as she became more aware of the soft warmth of
Robyn’s mouth against her own, her heart began to react.
Years before, while still with the Sisters, a much younger
Marian had enjoyed the friendly caress of another girl in their
care. The duo had shared precious moments of privacy easing each
other’s solitude. It had been years since those encounters, but on
cold and lonely nights, the memory was never far from Marian’s
thoughts.
Robyn leaned back a moment after the kiss, giving Marian
time to react. When no comment was forthcoming, she leaned
forward and kissed her again, this time with more passion. As
their lips met, Marian reacted to the pressure of Robyn’s tongue
against her mouth by opening her lips and letting it slide inside.
Encouraged, Robyn slid her hand under the dress Marian had
covered herself with and cupped the brunette’s breasts. She was
pleased to find it was warm to the touch, a further indication of
the younger woman’s excitement. She spread out her fingers,
rubbing Marian’s thick nipple to a stiff hardness.
“You like this don’t you.?” Robin asked softly as she pressed
a brief third kiss against Marian’s cheeks.
“Yes.” Marian replied almost too softly to hear. The
admission came hard for her.
“I had a feeling you still did.” Robyn went on.
“What?” Marian said in a much louder voice as she abruptly
pulled back.
Robyn laughed a little laugh.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she said.
“Should I?” Marian asked, feeling a little defensive all of
the sudden.
“I recognized you right a way,” Robin said, “The moment I
saw you riding with Sir Guy. If anything, I think you’ve grown even
more beautiful.”
The woman in green paused for a moment to allow Marian
time to think. She had already given her a small clue by alluding to
Marian having grown since she’s last seen her.
A long minute passed, but still Marian couldn’t place the
short haired girl.
“I guess I looked a lot different back then.” Robyn said.
“Besides, I don’t think you had eyes for anyone but Juliana .
Hearing the name of her long ago love opened a dam in
Marian’s memory. Images of the night she last saw Juliana flooded
her mind.
“Blessed Mother, now I remember you!” Marian exclaimed.
“You where at the Convent of Saint Ann with us!”
Of all the memories of Juliana that Marian held dear, the
one she had buried deepest was that of the night they had been
discovered together by the Reverend Mother and Sister Catherine.
As had been their practice, they had waited until the
Sisters finished their rounds and had retired to their own cells.
Then Juliana would sneak out of her room and join Marian in hers.
That fateful night, Marian had not been feeling well, complaining of
having chills from the drafty cell.
Rather than spend an hour or two with her love and then
returning to her own room, Juliana had insisted that she stay with
Marian and help keep her warm. Naked, she had climbed under the
thin cover they were all given and pressed their bodies together,
adding her body heat to Marian’s. She reassured her friend that
she would return to her own room before the Sisters rang the bell
for morning prayers.
Tragically, they were so comfortable together that they fell
into a deep sleep. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they slept right
through the morning bells. Noticing their absence in the Chapel,
Sister Catherine and the Reverend Mother had gone to look for
them.
Finding the two of them naked in Marian’s bed, the Reverend
Mother had pronounced them Spawns of Satan and directed that
they both be punished severely. Sister Catherine was more than
happy to provide instant punishment in the form of the riding crop
she always carried. Many of the girls had felt its sting when their
mind wandered in class or they failed to meet her standards. It
was said, if not too loudly, that the old Sister enjoyed it’s use too
much. A sinful pleasure that seemed to increase with the pain of
those girls on the receiving end.
With a religious fever in her eyes, Sister Catherine had
proceeded to trash at the two girls with all of her considerable
strength. Despite the young girls cry for mercy, mixed with those
of pain, the Reverend Mother mearly turned blind eyes to Sister
Catherine’s excess and mouthed prayers of deliverance for their
souls.
“Leave them alone!” a loud voice had suddenly shouted from
the open doorway.
Sister Catherine paused for a moment as all eyes turned to
the sound of the voice. There, standing in the doorway was another
of their charges. Older than either Marian or Juliana, the girl had
long auburn hair that stretched down to her waist. She was less
endowed then either of the other girls as well. Dressed in a simple
cloth, she seemed only set apart from a teenage boy her age by
the long hair. Neither of the girls knew much about their deliverer
except that she was supposed to be the daughter of some minor
Saxon Noble and had heard some of the Nuns constantly refer to
her as a troublemaker.
“I said leave them alone!” the girl repeated as she stepped
inside.
“This is none of your concern. You should be in Chapel with
the others, praying that God show you the error of your prideful
ways. I think you should return there.” Reverend Mother had said,
adding. “Unless you care to share their punishment.”
The new arrival looked past the Reverend Mother to the two
naked girls huddled together on the bed. She could see the red
marks Sister Catherine had already inflicted upon them.
“This will not go well for you if you continue to interfere.”
Reverend Mother continued. “These girls have committed an
abomination in the eyes of God and must be punished.”
“All they’ve committed is an act of friendship and caring.”
The proud girl said, standing her ground. “And if you really believe
it to be an abomination, then perhaps you should inquire more
carefully into the habits of the others in your Order before you
condemn them.”
The Reverend Mother was taken aback by the accusation.
More so because it was true as she well knew.
“I’m warning you...” Reverend Mother said, changing the
subject. “You are risking the damnation of your soul if you
continue to interfere. Not that it would take much more for your
damnation in light of your exploits thus far.”
“And I’m warning you,” the girl said defiantly. “You’re risking
a lot more if you continue.”
Reverend Mother couldn’t ignore such a direct challenge to
her authority. Turning to Sister Catherine, she motioned for her
to continue the punishment. Then she returned her gaze to the
sackcloth garbed girl to show her she hadn’t been impressed with
her bravado.
But the girl wasn’t there. When Reverend Mother had given
Sister Catherine leave to continue, the girl had moved forward and
swung out at the hand in with Sister Catherine held her instrument
of pain. A small knife that the girl had somehow managed to hide
on her person flashed in the early light, drawing blood across the
older woman’s hand, causing her to drop her crop. Sister
Catherine’s scream split the morning air.
The noise of that cry caught the attention of others on the
way back from Chapel and soon footsteps could be heard in the
halls beyond. The interruption also gave Marian the strength to
gather her composure and exert what authority she suddenly knew
she had.
“I am,” she began hesitantly. “The ward of King Richard!”
she then shouted. “And there will be no more of this.”
The increasing sound of footsteps and the thought of this
matter being brought to the attention of the King was enough for
Reverend Mother to decide that she had to put an end to this as
quickly as possible. There would be other ways to punish all
involved.
Marian was returned to the Court, never to see Juliana
again. She had cried the night she learned that her friend had
been married off to some French Count to secure a trade deal. But
those tears were naught compared to those she’d shed when she’d
learned Juliana had died of the fever that had swept France two
years later. It was a pain she still carried, made bearable only by
the memory of their time together.
As for the young woman who had saved her and Juliana that
morning, Marian never even had the chance to learn her name. By
the noon meal, she had disappeared from the Convent. When she
had asked about her, the Sisters would not even acknowledge she
had existed. It was rumored that she had run away to avoid the
vengeance of the Reverend Mother, but Marian feared that she
might have somehow suffered from that wrath.
“Merciful Mother,” Marian exclaimed as she dropped the
dress she had been holding against her body and threw her arms
around Robyn. “I am so happy to see you. I so much wanted to tell
you how thankful I was for your help that day. You saved our
lives.”
“Well I don’t think your lives were really in danger,” Robyn
said, very aware of the large naked mounds pressing against her
own cloth covered ones. “But I wasn’t about to just stand there
and let that witch beat you.”
“Well, we thought she was going to kill us.” Marian said.
The mention of ‘we’ made Robyn think of Juliana.
“I heard about Juliana from some travelers to my father’s
house.” Robyn said. “I know she meant a lot to you. In fact I was
quite envious when I saw the two of you together. Those Nuns
might not have noticed, but I knew there was something between
you two the moment I saw you. I guess that was because I wished
it was me you looked at that way.”
Marian couldn’t help but think that suddenly this
indestructible warrior woman seemed very vulnerable indeed.
“You mean the way I’m looking at you right now?” she asked
with a smile.
“It’s getting real late, and not just a bit cold.” Robyn said,
looking back into Marian’s eyes. “Maybe you should get dressed
and we can get back to the camp.”
Suddenly aware of the chill the encroaching night had
brought, Marian thought it strange she hadn’t felt it before. She
quickly put her dress back on.
“Is there somewhere else we can go?” Marian asked Robyn
as she
helped tie up her laces. “Somewhere were it can be just the two of
us?”
Without answering, Robyn took Marian’s hand in hers and led
her up a different path than the one she’d come down. The sounds
of the small village could be heard off to the right, sounds of
merriment and song. She was sure Sir Guy hated every minute of
it.
The path led them to a small hut, not much different than
those she had seen on Friar Tuck’s tour this afternoon. The only
real difference seemed to be that it was all alone in the forest.
Once inside, Robyn quickly made up a roaring fire in the
hearth, filling the chamber with pleasing warmth. Marian sat on a
fur covered bed and watched Robin hang a pot over the fire.
Looking about the small house, Marian realized just how wrong her
earlier idea that Robin Hood kept the riches they’d gained had
been. Back home, the lowest servant lived in better quarters.
“I usually eat alone most nights,” Robyn explained. “John’s
wife drops off a pot of whatever she was making for dinner. I’m
sure there’s enough for two, there usually is. It shouldn’t take long
to heat up.”
“I sure it will be fine.” Marian said as she watched her.
“Of course it’s not much compared to the feast they are
having for Sir Guy and the Sheriff.” Robyn said as she stirred the
pot. “You can still join them if you want.”
“I’d rather stay here with you.” Marian answered as she
rose from the bed and took the large spoon from Robyn’s hand.
“Here, let me make that for you.”
Stirring the mixture of meat and vegetables, Marian
reflected how natural it felt to cook for Robyn. She couldn’t
imagine herself doing this for Sir Guy or any man. But for the
woman across the room it seemed the right thing to do.
“This looks to be almost ready.” Marian said as she realized
that it only had to be heated up.
“This should go well with the meal.” Robyn said as she
produced a bottle from a chest at the foot of her bed. “The finest
from the cellars of the Duke of Kenshire. At least the finest that
he made the error of shipping through Sherwood.” she laughed.
Using some plates that sat on a shelf over the fire, Marian
served both Robyn and herself. With no chairs or tables, they sat
across from each other on the straw covered floor. Robyn had also
poured each of them a goblet of the wine.
The wine was fine indeed, she thought as she took a sip of it,
highly potent as well. The food was simple fare yet equally
delicious. She told Robyn that she would have to give John’s wife
her compliments.
“I’ve not had a meal this delicious in the King’s dining hall.”
Marian complimented as she took another bite.
“Well just looking at Little John you know his wife has to be
a great cook.” Robyn replied as she took a piece of bread and
soaked it in the gravy. “Can you cook?” she unexpectedly asked
Marian.
Taken off guard by the question, Marian said no somewhat
embarrassed.
“That’s OK, neither can I.” Robyn laughed. “Would you like
more wine?”
Marian looked down and realized that she’d already finished
her original portion of the heady drink. She held it out for Robyn
to refill.
As they ate and drank, the two continued to talk and Marian
learned more about Robyn’s life after leaving Saint Ann’s. Far
from being angry about her having run away from the Convent
School, Sir Robert had been proud of his daughter having stood up
to what she perceived as a form of tyranny.
He had only sent her there at the urging of the local priest,
a last chance to turn her into the lady her Mother would’ve wanted
her to be. Sir Robert, always a rebel in his own heart as well, saw
much of himself in his daughter. Instead of sending her off to
another Convent School, he instead hired the finest tutors to
educate her. Since he also allowed her a choice in what she wanted
to learn, many of the lessons were those he would have also taught
to a son.
In return, Robyn learned how Prince John had promised
Marian, being a Royal Ward, in marriage to Sir Guy. A fate she
considered less preferable than throwing herself off one of Castle
Nottingham’s turrets.
In time, the distant sounds of laughter from the
encampment faded and Robyn noted the late hour. It had been a
day both long and highly eventful.
Robyn took the lead this time, taking the plates and washing
them off in a large pale of water near the fire. Then she set them
back on the shelf to dry. Marian meanwhile, turned down the large
furs that covered the bed.
Once that was done, she quickly removed her dress and
stood naked in the firelight. Robyn looked up at her from the
fireplace and smiled appreciatively.
Walking to Marian’s side, Robyn began to undo her own
clothing but the nude woman placed a hand on top of hers, gently
pulling it away.
“Please let me.” she whispered.
Robyn took her hand kissed her gently. Then she let Marian
take her time in undoing her clothing.
As she exposed each piece of skin beneath the forest green,
Marian kissed the bare flesh. First Robyn’s neck, then her
shoulders, and finally her small breasts.
Marian placed a hand across each small globe, noting that
they were small in stature but large in perfection. Bright pink
nipples topped equally bright areola, surrounded in turn by flawless
white skin. Her own breasts might be larger in size but she
thought not as beautiful.
Feeling like the schoolgirl suddenly rewarded with a new
prize, she kissed each nipple, paying with each for a moment with
her tongue. Then she continued to disrobe the older girl, finding
that Robyn’s reddish brown forest was as abundant as her darker
one.
Finally, they were both as naked as newborn babes. They
stood for a few minutes before the fire, holding each other hand in
hand.
“I think I have fallen in love with you.” Marian said as she
held Robyn tightly in hand. “Now you have been my deliverer
twice.”
“We will talk of love in the morning,” Robyn said as she
kissed Marian once more. “When our heads are clear and our
hearts are still. But for now the night is ours, to share as we
wish.”
Robyn draped Marian across the bed, then laid down across
her. Their lips locked with an intensity they had only hinted at
before. Flesh pressed against flesh as both their breasts and
pubic mounds collided. Tongues played an erotic ballet, moving
from mouth to mouth.
Robyn began to work her way downward across Marian’s
ample breasts. She covered them with kisses, alternating with
soft love bites. In spite the meal they had just consumed, she felt
famished. A hunger that could only be filled by the woman beneath
her.
Her hands, massaging the supple flesh and feeling the
hardness of Marian’s nipples, now joined her mouth. She guided
each of them in turn between her lips, exploring each with the tip
of her tongue.
A soft moan from Marian’s own lips was Robyn’s reward. A
reward she greatly valued.
Downward she went, across Marian’s stomach and down to
her waist. She paused at her mound, inhaling the sweat aroma of
her sex. Sliding her hand under Marian’s bottom, Robyn pressed
her face into the deep brunette valley, reaching out with her
tongue to caress the deep grove in the center of it all.
An even louder moan from Marian filled the night as Robyn’s
tongue brushed lightly against the younger woman’s clit. It was
the first time anyone had touched her there in that way.
Marian spread her legs even wider to give Robyn greater
access. The fragrance that had greeted Robyn grew stronger as
she slid an extended finger up within the depths of Marian’s
passion, a movement that sent even greater ripples of delight
through her prone body.
As Robyn’s tongue continued to play an erotic symphony upon
Marian’s clit, a second finger joined the first. The sensations all
this attention to her womanhood produced had been ones Marian
hadn’t felt for far too long.
She reached down and grasped the back of Robyn’s head,
running her nimble fingers through her short locks. Her body
began to quiver and quake under the dual assault and she pressed
down to hold Robyn’s tongue in place. It was a superfluous effort
though as nothing short of an assault by hordes of Prince John’s
men was going to keep Robyn from her task.
A final thrust of Robyn’s skillful tongue and fingers sent
Marian over the edge. Her body tensed for a moment, then
exploded. The waves of her eruption bursting across her body.
For all Marian’s trashing about as the sapphic orgasm
overtook her, Robyn never paused or stopped her ministrations.
The result being the longest orgasm that Marian could remember.
It seemed as if it would never stop.
Finally of course it did, but it was long heartbeats before
Marian realized it. By the time she did, Robyn had already worked
her way back up Marian’s body, once more probing the inner
recesses of her lover’s mouth with her tongue.
This time, Marian could taste a new sensation in Robyn’s
mouth, the flavor of her own orgasm. The two women shared the
ambrosia of their joining until there was none left.
Exhausted and exhilarated at the same time, Marian rolled
Robyn onto her back. Her hands and eager mouth sought out
Robyn’s smaller breasts. Covering the tiny globes with all the
affection she could muster, she greedily took Robin’s pert nipples
into her mouth like a hungry baby.
“Oh yes,” Robin moaned with delight as she laid back her
head and closed her eyes.
Marian continued to suck gently on the pink nibs, covering
them with her kisses. Her hands glided up and down Robyn’s body
as she maintained contact with her breasts, adding a digital
massage to the oral one.
Finally, unable to wait any longer, she quickly moved down to
Robyn’s sex. Parting the lips with her outstretched fingers,
Marian saw that the other woman was gifted with what she knew
had to be an oversized clit. The way it stuck out and drew
attention to itself was a godsend to someone who really wasn’t sure
of what she was doing.
Pressing her face hard between Robyn’s legs, Marian
wrapped her lips around the bright pink button. Carefully, she
stroked it with her tongue, hoping she was doing it right.
“Yes, oh yes,” Robyn panted as if she could sense Marian’s
uncertainty.
Encouraged, Marian pressed harder, running her tongue back
and forth. Remembering how Robyn had used her fingers, Marian
tried to duplicate the gestures. While it was impossible for her to
repeat the familiarity she had with her own womanhood, it was
obvious from the reaction of Robyn’s body that Marian wasn’t doing
too bad.
Wrapped up in her desire to bring Robyn the same pleasure
that the older girl had visited upon her, Marian found it funny that
she suddenly thought of the serving girl Jane and the rumors of
her performing heathen sexual practices. Thinking of what she
was doing right now, and of how wonderful it had felt when
performed on her, she decided that those heathens might just be
on to something.
Faster and faster Marian drove her fingers in and out of
Robyn, knowing how good it felt when she did it to herself. She
tried, at the same time, to keep pace with her tongue. She wasn’t
as practiced as Robyn obviously was, but it was enough to get the
job done.
She could hear the pulse of Robyn’s breaths becoming
sharper and closer together. The harder she pressed her face into
Robyn’s sex, the more Marian realized she could smell her
approaching climax as well. Like every other aspect of her body,
even the aroma of her desire seemed to be building to an eruption.
Marian didn’t have long to consider this new discovery as
Robyn’s body convulsed much as hers had done such a short time
before. Like Robyn, Marian was also treated to a generous sample
of the fruits of orgasm. Fruits Marian discovered had a much
different taste than her own.
While she hadn’t been able to make Robyn’s climax last as
long as hers had, Marian still wanted to share the results as hers
had been. She quickly returned to Robyn’s mouth and kissed her.
Robyn was eager to share in Marian’s gift, practically drawing it
from her with her darting tongue.
Covered with sweat, the two women laid atop the furs,
bathing in the dual warmth of the fire and their bodies. They
continued to stroke and caress each other, sharing kisses as they
went. Before the dawn, they’d made love twice more. Each time
was better than the last.
During the quiet pause between one of their lovemaking
sessions, Marian and Robyn talked about how unreal it all seemed.
Of how lucky they had been that fate had brought them together.
“Do you think that if things were different,” Marian asked
her heart’s desire as she ran a hand across the contours of Robyn’s
breast. “If Robin Hood had truly turned out to be the Earl of
Locksley. That I would’ve fell in love with him as well?”
“My love,” Robyn replied as she took Marian’s hand and
brought it to her lips. “Stories like that only happen in a minstrel’s
song.”
Both women had laughed, then proceeded to make love once
more.
The next morning, the entire outlaw band gathered to see
off Sir Guy and the Sheriff. Gone was the expensive attire they
had worn the day before, replaced by the poorest of garments.
Also gone were the fine steeds they had ridden, their place taken
by donkeys. The only member of their tiny party who still looked
as they did the previous day was Jane. She had elected to return
to Nottingham with Gisbourne. She still wore the dress she had
borrowed from Marian.
“A small band of our men will guide your party to the main
road,” Little John was saying as Marian stepped into the clearing.
“Of course they will make enough suitable detours that you will not
be able to find your way back here. If you do enter this Shire
again, you will not leave as easily. Do well to remember that!”
“We will not leave without the Lady Marian.” Sir Guy said
defiantly. “We have not seen her since yesterday afternoon.
Where is she?”
“I am right here.” Marian said, ignoring Gisbourne’s title as
she stepped into the far edge of the clearing .
“Milady, I am so happy to see you safe.” Sir Guy practically
gushed as he turned to the sound of her voice.
Marian wondering if any of his concern was genuine or
merely prompted by the prospect of returning to Nottingham
without the gold, Robin Hood’s head or the Royal Ward. It was no
matter, she concluded, for he was to leave without all three.
“Milady?” Gisbourne asked as Marian moved and stood next
to Little John.
The reason for Sir Guy’s confusion was the manner of
Marian’s dress. Instead of the traveling ensemble she had worn
yesterday, Marian now sported a light brown woodsman’s garb. It
had taken some quick alterations by one of the camp women to
redo one of Robyn’s outfits to fit her more abundant figure. She
could tell from the reaction of the men around her that it was still
a snug fit. No matter, they all knew whose clothing it had
previously been, and who now held her heart.
“Jane,” Sir Guy barked to the girl sitting on a donkey behind
him. “Return the Lady Marian’s dress to her that she might be
attired as befits her station.”
“There is no need for that,” Marian interrupted, holding up
her hand to prevent the girl from climbing down off her surrogate
steed. “Jane may keep that dress, and a few other things as well.”
“I do not understand.” Sir Guy said.
“I will not be returning to Nottingham.” Marian said, the
words bringing a surge of satisfaction to her heart. “I will be
staying here with these good people.”
“Have you gone mad?” Sir Guy cried out, no longer trying to
maintain any semblance of civility.
“Mad?” Marian repeated as she pondered the word.
“Perhaps I have. If so it is a good kind of madness. The kind that
gives you the strength to seek out that which you most desire. Or
to do what you know to be right.”
“You have gone mad.” Gisbourne concluded.
“As I said, it might well be so.” Marian went on. “But it is no
longer your concern.”
Marian paused for a moment, looking into the woods as if
searching for someone. Gisbourne followed her gaze but saw no
one.
“You have your Maid Marion, Sir Guy.” Marian said,
referring to the girl in her clothing. “She will serve you much
better in the areas that matter to you than I ever would.”
Before Gisbourne could utter another retort, Little John
signaled his men to begin leading the donkeys down the road.
Marian could see a hateful scorn on Sir Guy’s face as they led them
single file past her. On the Sheriff’s, she saw a sense of happiness
of just being alive when he thought he’d never see the dawn.
Finally, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw the delight on
Jane’s face. No longer would she have to live in Marian’s shadow,
now she had Sir Guy all to herself. Well she was welcome to him.
As the tiny band reached the edge of the clearing and were
about to disappear into the forest, Sir Guy took one last look back.
He quickly spotted Marian talking to someone in a similar but green
outfit. Thinking this might be his only chance to catch a glimpse of
the elusive Robin Hood, he pulled the ass he rode to a stop.
Cold steel eyes locked on the two, till he realized that the
Lady Marian was but talking to some beardless youth. No one of
importance at all. A tug from one of Little John’s men prodded
them onward once more.
Looking forward once more, Sir Guy settled his gaze on Jane
in front of him. Perhaps he was well rid of Marian after all. She
would never be the pliant plaything that Jane had always been.
There were other ways to power than marrying the King’s Ward.
Even with the loss of the gold, he still had his position. Prince
John might be furious at the loss, but he still needed Sir Guy and
the men he commanded. If only as a hedge against the prospect
that Richard might one day return.
As she watched Gisbourne’s party fade from view, Marian
felt Robyn’s arm slide around her. She leaned over and rested her
head on her shoulder. A shout of celebration came from the Merry
Men. Their leader was happy, as was she. Someday King Richard
would indeed return and on that day, their love would extend far
beyond Sherwood Forest.
END
(c) Ann Douglas 1999
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