25
July 21, 1193
Sherwood Forest
“Alan, Stop! Just stop.”
Joanna rested her head in her hands and wished she was solving Alan’s murder rather than tutoring him in writing. She was no more a songwriter than he was, but she knew when something stank, and Alan’s work definitely did.
“But Joanna, you haven’t heard the end yet.”
“I’ve got the picture. Believe me. Tra-la-la-lilly and everybody have a drink.”
“You don’t like it.”
As she pondered how to respond, she remembered how her writing group’s harsh judgments had almost destroyed her belief in her abilities. While she wasn’t the best writer in the world, she wasn’t the worst either. She only needed time to develop her skills. With encouragement and some constructive criticism, maybe she could write something meaningful and entertaining. Destroying Alan’s self-esteem and creativity because others had treated her that way only passed on the hurt without solving the problem. Joanna had a responsibility to history and to Alan to help him improve.
“Alan, I think you’re very talented,” Joanna began. “You write, you sing, you play—and you’ve got a great sense of humor. But you take the easy way out. You go for the cheap laughs and the easy rhymes and miss the heart and the truth behind them. Light-hearted is good, drinking songs are good, but you need to expand your repertoire beyond lyrics that say, ‘Let’s have more ale while we poke fun at Robin Hood.’”
Alan started to protest but stopped himself as the idea sunk in. “Is that why Robin gets so angry with me?”
“Chances are good.”
“But I like to be amusing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being funny, but you could spread the jokes around so everyone was included.”
Alan’s face lit up. “I see what you mean! I can laugh at Robin as long as I mention the annoying things everyone else does, too, such as the way John talks for hours about our family when no one cares or how Stutely picks his nose.”
Joanna winced. “You don’t want the whole camp angry with you. What if you praised at least one heroic trait about the person for every joke you told? Better yet, two or three praises for every joke.”
“That’s going to take some thought.” Alan’s face was so serious that Joanna didn’t have the heart to laugh at him even though she wanted to.
“You could write a ballad that had one verse dedicated to each member of the gang,” she suggested. “Four lines for each person, three positive, one funny—and the funny thing should be something that everyone—including the man—knows and can laugh about without any fistfights.”
“I won’t be able to write this in a day.”
“Very true,” Joanna conceded, attempting to match his gravity. “Most quality work is the product of days of effort, not a single afternoon. But when it’s finished and it’s quality, the men will want you to perform it over and over again.”
“That would be a new experience.”
“As long as you’re telling jokes, make sure to share one about yourself, too. Self-deprecation can go a long way.”
Alan nodded.
“Here’s something else that might help,” Joanna added. “Write a new tune for every ballad.”
Now it was Alan’s turn to rest his head in his hands. “This is so much work! I’ll never be able to do it. It will take so long!”
Joanna’s gaze fell to where Robin and Jill sat nearby in John’s lean-to. She knew they had been listening to her conversation with Alan because she saw both of them smirking. They avoided looking at her and acted as though they were deep in conversation.
“Let’s work together then,” she suggested.
“A collaboration! Oh, I’d like that! I could write a song about how beautiful you are—”
“Thanks, but save it. The person to please right now is Robin. You need a song that makes him look good.”
Alan’s expression was dubious. “I thought I was supposed to write about truth.”
“There’s a difference between something sounding true and actually being true.”
“I’ll have to think on that one for a while.”
Joanna patted his arm sympathetically. “For now, let’s use the melody to a song I know from my country. We can write different words to fit your situation.”
The idea held merit, but when Alan asked her to sing the melody for him, Joanna faltered. She had made the suggestion without having a song in mind. She batted around several ideas. Absently, she thought of the Widow Tinsley wearing nineteenth-century American garb and carrying a revolver in a hip holster. The detail felt significant even though Joanna didn’t understand why.
That’s when the song came to her. Her favorite band, the Backwater Bandits, had recorded an album of popular western songs in the 1960s. Her father had played it in the car over and over again on family road trips until Joanna knew the words by heart, even though they had been recorded almost twenty years before she and Jill were born. The melody held enough whimsy and pathos that it would be fun to sing in almost any mood.
Joanna tried to ignore Jill’s giggles as Joanna hummed the song over and over to help Alan learn it. New lyrics were slowly forming in her head, but she needed time to think them through in order to get the rhymes right. It was a short song. Only one verse was necessary.
Once satisfied that Alan knew the tune, Joanna left him to practice the accompaniment on his lute while she joined Jill and Robin. Robin’s color was better today. He wouldn’t be laid up for long. To keep him resting, Jill and Little John had already been quite stern, but everyone knew while Robin might not pull a bow for another week or two, today was his last day of being an invalid.
“What do you think?” Robin asked Joanna once she had taken a seat beside Jill. “Is there any hope for him?”
“As much hope as there is for any of us.” Noting how her philosophical tone puzzled Robin, she tried to speak more practically. “He’s young and he needs practice. I gave him some pointers. I know you’ve been sharing your feelings as well.”
“Yes, a right hook made my opinion clear.”
“You’d think it would,” Joanna agreed, “but Alan took it as an insult against his ability and his existence.”
Robin turned to Jill. “Is there any way to stop people from being so petty? Why can’t everyone get along?”
“The eternal question,” Jill mused. “We don’t have it figured out in the future either.”
“I understand where Alan is coming from,” Joanna continued. “He needs someone to be patient with him. He’ll find his niche eventually.”
“Have you found yours?” Robin asked.
Joanna thought of her writing group, her despair over never finishing a book manuscript, her elation at having found a receptive audience at Locksley Castle, and her plethora of experiences in the twelfth century that could be turned into a novel. “I’m closer to finding it than I was five days ago.”
“There’s hope in that.” Robin’s voice sounded melancholy.
“You could help Alan by telling him exactly what you liked and didn’t like in his songs,” Joanna advised. “Punching him doesn’t help, but constructive criticism does. You could also suggest ideas for him to write about. I think the story of how you became an outlaw or how you stole the sheriff’s tax money are good places to start. You could even have a ballad about Lester winning the archery tournament.” When Robin’s face turned an envious shade of green at the mention of Lester and the tournament, Joanna backpedalled. “Or not. Just a suggestion.”
“These are good ideas,” Robin said. “Jill has mentioned that more organization and supervision are necessary if my outlaw ventures are going to be successful. I’ll add managing the minstrel to my list.”
“He’s important to your legendary status,” Jill reminded him.
“It’s good to have you with us, Joanna,” Robin said. “I know Jill rests easier with you here. How are you enjoying your stay?”
&
nbsp; Finding an appropriate answer was tricky. Joanna liked Robin and liked even more how he revered Jill. Any man who understood how talented, beautiful, and special Jill was deserved Joanna’s respect and friendship. But Joanna didn’t love the forest. While Locksley Castle’s accommodations couldn’t match what she was used to at home, the castle was a five-star hotel in comparison to the meager comforts of Sherwood. Joanna had never enjoyed camping, and she had hardly slept at all on that pile of twigs Jill called a bed.
Recognizing she had waited too long to respond, she apologized. “You’ve all been very kind, and I couldn’t have asked for a better audience last night or more patient archery instructors this morning. But I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened at the castle. I’m worried about Elaine and Sirsalon.”
“I’ve been thinking about them as well. I hate the idea of my ancestral home falling into the hands of the sheriff. I wish there was some way to find out what was going on. Elaine and Gripple were my only spies.”
Robin shook his head in dejection. Jill watched him with raised eyebrows, as if waiting for him to come to a realization on his own.
“What?” Robin asked her. “Am I missing something?”
Joanna could tell by Jill’s closed-lipped smile that she was barely keeping her frustration in check. “If you’re worried about them, then…”
Robin’s face lit up. “I should send someone to find out.”
“Yes.” Jill relaxed. “But not Will or Gripple. I wouldn’t even tell them what you’re doing. Send Stutely and Lester.”
“Good idea.” Robin pulled himself up painfully to his feet. “I’ll go find them—and don’t tell me I shouldn’t be walking. The inactivity is driving me mad.”
The twins watched Robin as he hobbled away toward the archery field.
“He’s a terrible patient,” Jill declared. “I don’t think anything can keep him down for too long.”
“I hope not,” Joanna replied. “He’ll need a buoyant spirit when you tell him you’re leaving.”
Jill cut a sharp look at Joanna. “Yeah.”
Sensing Jill’s uncertainty, Joanna said, “Why don’t we go for a walk?”
Jill led them toward the stream where they sat against a tree trunk. The afternoon air was damp and cool. In the patches of sky that peeked through the green canopy above them, Joanna could see clouds rolling in. While she didn’t relish rain, the cloud cover was a good sign there might be fog tomorrow. Joanna pondered how to begin the conversation Jill had been avoiding for the last two days.
Joanna knew with unmistakable conviction that both twins must return to the present. While Joanna’s heart warmed to see Jill allowing a man to get close to her, Jill had chosen the wrong person, and it was a sister’s job to point this out, especially a sister who had made so many poor choices where men were concerned.
“Robin’s cool,” Joanna finally said. “I like him.”
Jill’s grin indicated she appreciated Joanna’s approval. “He’s a good guy. He just needs someone to push him in the right direction.”
Joanna nodded cautiously. “And you’ve been doing a lot of pushing.”
“So he’s not the sharpest sword in the armory,” Jill conceded. “But he’s got a lot of potential and he’s a natural leader.”
“He thinks the world of you.”
Jill pulled out the medallion. “Yeah, his proposal was a good clue.”
“Have you given him an answer yet?”
“No.”
“And what are you going to say?”
“I’m still figuring that out.”
Joanna chose her words carefully. “He’s your type—adventurous, funny, heroic, and he doesn’t take life too seriously.”
“True, but there’s more than that. He’s an equal. I never wanted a man who would treat me like a second-class citizen or the weaker gender—because I’m not—but I don’t want to be the strongest partner in the relationship either. A lot of the guys who ask me out are losers that I’d have to carry through life. I’ve always wanted to fall in love with a man who could match me and maybe be better than me at some things. Robin’s come closer to that ideal than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Even closer than Brian?” Joanna took a risk in mentioning Brian’s name since she knew so little of what had transpired between him and Jill.
Jill shuddered. “The two don’t even compare. Robin’s the first guy I could see myself with who liked me as much as I liked him—if not more.”
“That definitely puts you in a position of power in the relationship,” Joanna agreed. “Not that I’ve experienced that to tell you what it’s like. But Jill, you can do better. I know that sounds crazy because we’re talking about Robin Hood. But seriously, he’s not that smart and you…well, I think you’re brilliant. If you want an equal match, then you need to hold out for one in every way. I’m sure there’s a man out there who’s adventurous, funny, heroic, and smart.”
“But what if I’m one of those women whose standards are so high she’ll never find anybody?”
“Trust me, lowering your standards doesn’t improve the dating experience.”
“So what really happened between you and Guy?” Jill asked. “He’s the type you always go for.”
“He was attractive—no doubt about that. But he was a liar, a player, and a murderer. It took a trip to the Middle Ages for me to see that I always fall for the same type, so it’s no wonder I keep getting hurt. At least I was smart enough to see Guy for who he was, and I hope that helps me make some wiser decisions in the future.”
“You aren’t swearing off men, are you?”
“Goodness, no!” Joanna laughed. “I enjoy them too much. But I’m going to be cautious. It used to be the minute a man showed any interest in me, I’d dump all my emotional baggage on him. Next time a man asks me out, I’m going to play it cool, be coy, and have some fun. It will be a new adventure.”
Jill feigned a look of horror. “Did you use the word adventure in a positive way?”
“I did. This whole time-travel thing has been a great adventure that I’m glad I experienced. But in case you think it was all fun and games, let me assure you it wasn’t. I was almost raped. I saw five people die and found another already dead. I’m going to need some very serious therapy. The twelfth century is a brutal place. I want to go home.”
Jill held Robin’s medallion in her hand and traced the edges with her thumb. “I know. But what if Robin is my one chance to find love? Can I walk away from that?”
“Can you walk away from modern plumbing, electricity, medicine, dental care, automobiles, and daily showers—not to mention your friends and your family—for an outlaw?”
“A legendary outlaw,” Jill corrected. “And you’re right—it sounds awful when you put it like that.”
“This won’t end well for Robin,” Joanna continued. “You know the stories. He’s poisoned by the abbess of Kirklees and dies young…well, young-ish.”
“I’d thought of that.”
“You’ve known Robin what, five days? It took you six months to buy a car…three months to buy a camera. You say you’re all about adventure, but you play life safer than anyone I know. You never step foot into any situation without planning for every possible outcome. I get that you like Robin—and hey, there’s a lot to like! But it’s too soon, even for you. You aren’t ready. If you stay with him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
Jill sighed deeply. “I think I was born in the wrong time.”
“No way.” Joanna shook her head vehemently. “We were born in 1984 to Frank and Elizabeth Mason for a reason. We aren’t mistakes. We were meant to live in the twenty-first century—not the twelfth. This has been fun, but it’s not where we belong. Besides, I don’t believe in one chance for love or anything else. I think we get lots of chances, and you’ve got a whole lifetime waiting for you. ”
“You’re right,” Jill admitted. “But don’t gloat about it, okay? Because after this co
nversation is over, I will deny it ever happened.”
“Understood.”
Feeling pleased with herself, Joanna was savoring her brief moment of Jill’s having acknowledged she was right when Jill sat up straight and cocked her head.
“Do you hear that?”
Excited voices, at least one of them a woman’s, came from the direction of the camp. Something was definitely going on.
“Let’s go back and check it out,” Jill suggested.
The twins hurried back to the camp. When they entered the clearing, Joanna gasped in delight because by the fire, surrounded by most of the merry men, were Elaine and Sirsalon, closely attended by Will, Gripple, and Robin. When Elaine saw Joanna, she held out her arms and embraced her.
“I’m so glad you’re both all right!” Joanna exclaimed. “We were so worried.”
“I knew they’d be fine,” Will boasted, and his look dared Joanna to disagree with him. “No one in Nottinghamshire is as clever as my mum.”
Elaine patted Will’s cheek. “I didn’t do it alone, Will. Sirsalon’s sacrifice saved us all.”
Sirsalon took a humbler approach as he explained, “One can hardly call it a sacrifice since I’m still breathing.”
“Tell us what happened,” Robin urged, motioning for everyone to sit down around the fire.
Elaine eyed Robin’s bandage with suspicion. “Only if you let me take a look at that later, Robin.”
“Yes. Fine.”
“And don’t roll your eyes at me,” Elaine added. “I can still box your ears like I used to when you were a boy.”
To his credit, Robin looked genuinely abashed at the reprimand. Everyone sat down around the fire with Robin and Joanna taking their places on either side of Jill. Little John pushed his way through the men and deposited himself on the log beside Joanna. Amusing as his efforts to be near her were, she felt relieved that she and Jill were leaving soon. John was a sweet sort but not her type. She had no wish to break his heart.
Elaine looked to Sirsalon. “Should I begin, my dear, or you?”
“You, by all means. You’ll tell it much better than I could.”
Those two really were perfectly matched. Joanna was proud that she had played a small part in their coming together. Someday, when she found true love, she hoped she would find someone as well suited for her as Sirsalon was for Elaine.
With a maternal call for silence that would have quieted the noisiest of children, Elaine began her tale.
“The story begins and ends with Walter. As you know, when he escaped he ran to the sheriff to accuse Guy of murder. The sheriff was all too happy to be rid of Guy and seize control of more land. Walter gave the sheriff a real advantage as well. He knew about the kitchen tunnel and he also had the sympathy of many people in Locksley. Walter was a fair, unassuming constable. The servants trusted and respected him and were genuinely sorry for him when Gwen was murdered. No one dared to speak up, though, when Walter was imprisoned because they were afraid of Guy and his soldiers. But when Guy killed Agrub for letting Walter escape, even the soldiers turned on Guy and sided with Walter. That’s why, as soon as Guy was dead, the soldiers opened the gate to let the sheriff in.”
“But when we left, there were people fighting the sheriff’s men,” Robin pointed out.
“True. Robin, you should take that as a compliment. You’re still remembered and loved by many people. They fought in your defense, knowing you were wounded and hoping to help you escape. Of course, no one realized the sheriff had deployed more soldiers to the kitchen tunnel. We never would have made it to the chapel if Sirsalon hadn’t slowed them down.”
“I didn’t do much,” Sirsalon confessed. “They disarmed me fairly quickly since I was outnumbered, but at least I distracted them long enough for you to reach the chapel.”
“The sheriff’s men used a battering ram on the chapel door,” Elaine continued. “I had just closed the trap door and thrown the rug over it when they broke in. I pretended to be hysterical, claiming I’d knocked down the altar because I was so upset about Guy’s death and the siege of the castle, but they arrested me anyway. All of the prisoners were brought before the sheriff. Once he saw that Guy and Roger were dead, he lost interest in punishing prisoners. Walter took the sheriff to the treasury where Felix surrendered all the money and gold in the castle. Then, the sheriff put Walter in charge of the castle to keep it as a faithful constable of the sheriff and King Richard. Once the sheriff was gone, Walter called the prisoners in one at a time to the great hall where he and Felix were examining the castle records. He sent for Sirsalon first.”
Sirsalon picked up the story. “When I was brought in, Walter untied my hands and offered me a drink. Then he asked me why I had attacked the sheriff’s men. I told him I was an old soldier who didn’t like to surrender ground, regardless of the circumstances. When he asked if I had any other reason, I told him about my love for Elaine and how I was afraid the sheriff would harm her and Gripple because of Will’s association with Robin Hood. I did what I could to defend my family.”
Joanna watched Will during this recitation and noticed a look of admiration on his face.
Elaine continued the story. “Then, Walter me brought in. The three of us sat a table, drinking wine together, and he asked me how I liked working at Locksley Castle. I told him Locksley had been my home for many years and I intended to stay as long as I was allowed. He wanted to know what had happened to Gripple. I said I’d sent Gripple away for fear the sheriff would use him to bring Will out of hiding. That’s when Walter said, ‘A boy should be with his mother. If you can find him, tell him he’s in no danger here. We need good stable hands like him who are so gifted with horses.’”
Gripple flushed. “So I can come home?”
“As though you never left,” Sirsalon replied. “In fact, we were sent to fetch you. Walter made it clear he wouldn’t even look for our return until tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s very interesting,” Joanna commented. “So the three of you are reinstated as though nothing happened?”
“Absolutely,” Sirsalon confirmed. “The same is true for all the other castle prisoners.”
Robin rubbed his chin. “Fascinating!”
“I have something for you, Robin.” Elaine retrieved a man’s ring from her pocket. The ring was similar to the one Joanna had seen Guy wear, except that this one bore the emblem of an open gate with a falcon flying through—the same heraldry found on the medallion Jill wore.
“My father’s ring!” Robin exclaimed. “I haven’t seen it since he died, and that was years ago. Where did you get this, Elaine?”
“Walter gave it to me. He said he found it in the treasury about a year ago and took it out for safekeeping. His exact words were, ‘I’m sure you’ll know what to do with it.’”
Slipping the ring on his finger, Robin shook his head in disbelief. “Perhaps I have more allies than I thought I did.”
“You certainly do,” Elaine agreed. “The villagers you helped can’t stop talking about your bravery and generosity.”
The promise of popular support as well as an ally in Locksley Castle inspired a rousing discussion among the band as they debated the possibilities these developments offered for future illegal activities. Amid the excitement, Joanna watched Will approach Sirsalon. The two men stared at each other for a moment then smiled and shook hands. Joanna sighed with pleasure, grateful that Elaine and her loved ones would have the happy ending they deserved. Bringing someone new into a family was never easy, but Will looked like he was over the worst of the adjustment period. As Will and Sirsalon conversed, Elaine drew Joanna to the side.
“I owe my happiness to you,” Elaine said.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Say thank you,” Elaine chided. “I’d like to thank you on Daisy’s behalf as well. I understand why you had to share Bess’s pregnancy, but you protected Daisy and Holly. I know Daisy’s grateful.”
“I didn’t want to hurt he
r,” Joanna admitted. “I understand what it’s like to make poor decisions about men.”
“You didn’t make a poor decision this time,” Elaine reminded her.
“No, I didn’t.”
“I have something for you.” Elaine smiled mischievously as she pulled out Joanna’s purse from beneath the folds of her cloak.
With an exclamation of delight, Joanna hugged the accessory to her chest. “I thought I’d never see it again.”
“I found it in Guy’s room this morning,” Elaine explained. “Inside there’s something else I think you’ll want.”
Joanna unzipped the bag and opened it to find her journal.
“Oh, Elaine! I can’t even tell you how happy this makes me. I thought I’d never get it back, and now I can go home with everything I need. Thank you. And by the way, I have something for you, too.” Joanna pulled out the Roman key to the chapel tunnel from her pocket and handed it to Elaine. “This should go back to Locksley. I’m sure you’ll know what to do with it.”
“Indeed I will,” Elaine agreed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Will has promised me a tour. I’ve never been here before. It was a good thing Stutely and Lester found us or we would have wandered through the forest all day and never found the camp.”
With no one expecting her company, Joanna retreated to Jill’s hut where she dumped out the contents of her purse to take inventory. Her sunglasses were still there, and her wallet was intact along with her ID and credit cards. She cringed in anticipation of examining her appearance in the compact mirror, but once she saw her reflection, she admitted she could look worse. After running the comb through her hair, Joanna pulled out the journal and a pen, anxious to write. Flipping through the pages, she came to the page where she had jotted down the sign at the stables: Not all who come out go back.
To her surprise, a note was written below it in a feathery handwriting she didn’t recognize.
But aren’t you glad you did?
Yes, she thought, a smile spreading across her face. Yes, I am.