A Hoboken Hipster In Sherwood Forest (28 page)

The outlaw bows his head, contemplating my words.

"Robin, sometimes you have to give up power to gain it. Don't you trust your men? Put your ego aside for a moment."

Robin remains silent, staring down at the ground. Then he lifts his head. "You are right, of course," he says resignedly. "Although I know not what you mean by
'ego.' But I do realize I am committing the sin of vanity. Better I relinquish command. Then we will have a small chance of survival."

"Exactly." I smile, more than a bit proud of the guy. He's certainly changed since the first day I met him. The day he refused to lend a hand to help that boy in the wood.

"John!" Robin calls out. "I must speak with you."

"When he's done with your mother," Much the Miller replies—quite unkindly, in my opinion.

"Please, Little John!" I beg. "It's really important."

I hear a loud huff and some movement outside the tent. A moment later the flap opens and Little John, accompanied by
Much, peeks his head inside. "This had better be good," Much says before John can open his mouth. "Better than your mother, in any case, though that ain't saying much." He chuckles to himself and I can see Robin's face twist in annoyance.

Come on, dude. Stick with the plan. There are lives at stake here.

"Look, John," Robin says, thankfully keeping his cool. "You have been my second-in-command for as long as we've been together. You're loyal, trustworthy, and brave."

"Unlike you, who are a lying, cowardly son of a whore," Much notes.

I can see Robin's hard swallow. It's taking all he's got to keep the humility thing going.

Luckily, John finds his tongue. "Much, I would like to speak with Robin alone for a moment," he says. Much scowls but obeys, leaving the tent. John crawls in and sits down beside us.

"Speak, lad," he says. "We are now alone."

"John, I trust you with my very life," Robin says. "I always have. And now I must ask a favor."

John shakes his shaggy head. "Nay. I cannot let you free. I am sorry, old friend, but 'tis against the code."

"You misunderstand.
‘Tis not the favor I seek," Robin says. "I am asking that you now take command of the men. Lady Christine has heard word of an impending attack on this place and the villages. I need you to prepare us for battle."

"You want me to lead the men?" John asks, raising his bushy
unibrow. "You are willingly giving up your command?"

"Aye," Robin says, his voice resolute. "After all, 'tis in the best interest of us all. They need a leader they can trust. I violated that trust and thus am not fit to command. Not now. And we need immediate action."

"Me, the leader of the Men of Sherwood Forest?" John asks. I'm pleased to see a sparkle in his eyes. Maybe this will work!

"Aye. And a fine one you'll make. You're loyal, you're brave ... I'd knight you if I had the authority, John. As I said before, I'd trust you with my life."

Little John bows his head. "Thank you, Robin," he says. "Your faith in me will not go unrewarded."

"Hey, speaking of rewards," I butt in. "Can you untie us at the very least? Keep the guard outside or whatever you have to do. We won't go anywhere. But these cords are killing me."

John thinks for a moment, then nods. "Very well," he says. "But do not let Much know I have done this." He pulls a knife from his boot and cuts our bindings.

I stretch my arms and rub my wrists, thankful to be free again. "So, about this attack..." I relate all I heard from the sheriff. "We can't let this happen. Especially to the villagers and their kids. They're totally innocent."

"Look, we have one advantage," John points out. "The sheriff doesn't know we know about the attack. So we have time to take action."

"What do you propose?"

“We send men to the villages tonight to warn the people. Tell them to gather what they need and then escort them to a safe location deep in the forest. In the meantime, we'll break down the hideaway here and move everything to a new spot. When the sheriffs men arrive, we will be long gone."

Robin nods eagerly at his burly friend. "This way we can protect the children and save our own skins. Good work, John."

The giant blushes at the compliment. " ‘Twas nothing," he says. "Just a simple plan."

"It's genius."

"Of course, it means breaking our vow," John says. "We'd be working with women and children, inviting them to be part of our forest home."

Robin smiles. "My dear friend, I know now I was wrong to be so blind. And I am glad my men have compassionate hearts that can love and care."

John grins. "Well, then, I guess I best be rallying the men and telling them of the plan." He pauses, then adds, "Hope they'll listen to me."

"They'd be mad not to. This is the perfect plan, and I know of no one I'd trust to execute it more than you."

"Thanks, Robin," Little John says gruffly. "I'm sorry we had to throw you in here. And I'm really glad you've found happiness with your woman."

Robin smiles at John and then turns to me.
"Aye. That I have, John," he says. "And it means more to me than anything else in the world."

I reach over and squeeze his hand, overwhelmed by his words. Maybe everything will really be all right.

John exits the tent. A moment later I hear him calling everyone to attention and explaining the situation.

Alone and unbound, Robin pulls me close to him, into his warm embrace. I collapse in his arms, feeding off his strength.

" Tis all my fault," Robin murmurs in my ear. "If I listened to you at the tournament... if we left before we were discovered... if I did not allow Marion free run of the forest..."

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Robin," I comfort, stroking his head. "You did what you thought was best. No one's perfect. We all make mistakes. We just have to make sure we learn from them."

"My biggest mistake was to shame you by forcing you to pretend you were something you are not," he says mournfully. "Can you forgive me that?"

"It's already forgotten."

"These past few days I have thought of nothing else," he confesses. "I searched endlessly for you in the forest. But deep inside, I knew that you had left for another reason."

"I'm sorry about that, too. It's just I—"

"Thought I would fall back in love with Marion,” he concludes. "Yes, I realized that later. The way I spoke of her over the time you've been here... there would be no reason you would not think it possible."

"Don't get me wrong," I protest. "I didn't just leave out of self pity. I wanted you to be happy. And if you were happy with Marion, if you loved her more than you'd ever love me, I'd never want to force you to deny that just out of a sense of obligation." I shrug. "They have a saying where I'm from. If you love someone, set
them free. If they come back to you, they're yours forever. If they don't, they were never yours to begin with."

"
‘Tis a very noble saying," Robin says. "But truly it cannot be so simple."

"Well, I'm not going to lie and say it didn't hurt. To be rejected, considered second-best..." Tears spring to my eyes as I recall the pain, the hurt, the doubt I'd felt. "But still. For a while there... Well, I guess I began to believe I was special—that maybe, just maybe, you truly loved me for
me, warts and all. And then Marion goes and shows back up and once again I felt like I was being relegated to second place. Which would be fine, I guess, if she's what you wanted. I mean, I can't be selfish here. I want you to be happy, and if she could do that and I could not—well, then I feel you should rightfully be with her."

"
Shhh. Quiet, silly woman," Robin scolds suddenly. I look at him in surprise. "No wonder you cannot keep your men. You do not fight for them."

"What?" Now I'm confused. Here I'm being all noble and brave and he's criticizing me?

"In your kingdom of Hoboken you may think love is letting go. But here we value it too much to allow it to escape. We fight to keep what we love. Our lands, our family, our women. Did you not teach me that? ‘Tis better to stand up against the evil in this land than let things stay as they are. How is it you cannot apply that to your own life? You would let another so easily win my affections? Do I mean so little to you?"

He's right, I realize, surprised. This "poor me" attitude I have held on to my whole life—playing the victim, the one who always loses—it's been nothing more than a self-indulgence to comfort myself rather than to allow myself to grow into a fully functioning adult. When my mother left my brother and I for three days without food, we sat in our rooms, hungry, never thinking for a moment we should go outside and find help. When one foster father beat me, I allowed myself to believe I deserved the punishment. And when things with Danny started going south, it only made sense to my addled mind. I wasn't deserving of a loving relationship. That's what I told myself. And so I allowed the distance between us to widen. I never questioned his late nights or the fact that we stopped talking. I sat home alone, feeling sorry for myself instead of fighting for my marriage. No wonder he ended up in another woman's arms. Not that it was my fault—he's a bastard to have done it. But I didn't give him any reason to stay.

"Seeing Marion again was hard, forsooth," Robin admitted. "Long lost childhood feelings dredged to the surface. But I knew well that if I never faced those feelings, never said to her all I needed to say, I could never get past them. I would be trapped in a cage of my own making forever and never find the freedom to love you as you deserve to be loved." Even through the darkness I can see Robin's gentle smile. "In the short time you have been here, Chrissie, you have become more to me than ten thousand Marions. As she and I sat by the fire and talked, I missed you. I wanted you to be there. I wondered where you went, if you were worried. Jealous. Marion spun a thousand fascinating tales, and yet all I wanted was to run after you, begging for you to understand. And then"—he pauses, swallowing hard—"she kissed me. I didn't know what to do."

"I saw the kiss. That's when I left."

"God's blood, I was afraid of that. But did you not stay a moment longer—to see me push her away and tell her that what had once been between us was over long ago? That I was in love with someone else? With you?"

"But if that's true, how come it took her so long to get back to Nottingham Castle? She didn't show up right away."

Robin sighs. "She begged me not to send her off, said that she'd lied to her guards and couldn't return right away. I didn't know what to do." He shakes his head. "I wanted her gone, but it seemed wise to keep her friendship—her goodwill. And then I was searching for you...." He shakes his head. "Now I see she spent the time learning about our operations only to share that knowledge with the sheriff himself."

"Well, I guess there was no way you could have known."

"But I tell you true, Chrissie," Robin says earnestly. "Nothing happened between us. Because I love only you. More than anything in this world. I've been such a fool to make you lie to the men. To cover up something so right and so good. To make you ashamed to be who you are. If you can ever forgive me..." Tears cascade down his face like rain, and he makes no effort to brush them away.

"Of course," I say, trying to talk past the lump in my own throat. "I love you too. I'm sorry I didn't trust you. That I took off before getting your explanation. That I didn't fight for your love. Now I know. I should have stood up for myself—and for us."

"Indeed, my love. Indeed." He cups my chin and pulls me close, pressing his lips against mine lovingly. "I love you Chrissie," he whispers against my mouth.

I awake the next morning to screaming.
Robin's shaking me by the shoulders, his eyes wide and his expression grave.

"What's going on?" I ask, struggling to regain full consciousness.

" 'Tis the sheriffs men," he says. "They have come earlier than we expected."

"What? No!" I bolt up in bed, looking around the tent. The sheriff’s men are here? Now? This morning?

"Come. We must get out of here," Robin commands, pulling me by the hand.

I follow him out of the tent and enter a battle zone. Swords clashing, arrows flying, men on the ground bleeding and begging for mercy—it's the worst thing I've ever seen.

Robin turns to me. "Chrissie, I want you to go," he commands. "Run far away."

"What?" I cry, disbelieving. "I can't—"

He glances around, his expression anguished. "This is a disaster. They outnumber us and will easily kill us all. And I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you." He stares at me, desperation in his eyes. I realize I've become a liability, something he always warned the others about. A weakness. A distraction.

"Go," I say, pushing him forward. "Don't worry about me."

He gives me an agonized look, then turns and runs to the weapons tent. John throws him a bow and together the two men shout orders to others.

I duck behind a tent, searching for a viable escape route, wondering not for the first time what happens when one gets killed in the 12th century. Will I bounce back home, safe and sound? Or is this it? I try to decide which would be better. Sure, with the bounce-back theory I'd be comfy cozy in the present day USA, but I will have lost Robin forever. And I can't imagine living without him.