4
Sherwood Forest
The corner of Jill’s mouth turned up as she studied the man before her. Nice hair, a crisp British accent, and a lean physique all contributed to a package worthy of a magazine cover. Whether he was an actor, Renaissance Faire performer, deluded homeless man, or the real Robin Hood, she didn’t know, but she decided she could stare at him all day without getting tired.
“I apologize for the inconvenience we’ve caused in detaining you. These woods are dangerous, especially with idiots such as Will Scarlet here. Are you all right?” Robin’s eyes flitted to her sore arm.
“I’m fine. I’m trying to find my sister. Her horse bolted, but the two of you stopped me before I could catch up to her.”
“How unfortunate!” Robin shot a reproving glance at Will before turning an apologetic gaze to Jill. “When did you lose her?”
“A few minutes ago. She was headed east.”
Robin held out his arm. “As a gentleman of the forest, I’ll assist you with your search.”
Jill slipped her hand shyly into the crook of his elbow. They took exactly two steps forward before a slender figure crashed through the trees ahead and darted toward them. Robin dropped Jill’s arm and stepped in front of her, presumably to protect her from approaching danger. Struck by his gallantry, Jill allowed herself to feel disappointed when his arm, which had paused protectively in the air before her, dropped to his side as he recognized the intruder.
The new arrival, a beardless young man with a bowl-cut of thick, dark hair, couldn’t have been much older than a teenager. With his thin cheeks, slender hands, and lack of weapon, Jill doubted this boy was a warrior, even though he was dressed just as Robin was in a white shirt, green doublet and leggings, and brown boots. The teen breathed heavily, bending over and resting his hands on his knees.
“What is it, Alan?” Robin sounded annoyed.
“It’s Little John!” Alan gasped for air. “He’s been captured…by the sheriff.”
Little John and Alan-a-dale were two more characters from the Robin Hood legends. This was getting interesting.
“How did it happen?” Robin demanded.
“A woman fell off a horse. She was injured so John stopped to help her. When he did, the foresters surrounded him.” Alan took a long deep breath that didn’t appear to calm his panting. “They took the woman, too.”
Joanna was injured and captured. Jill had to find her. She stepped out from behind Robin to confront the boy. “How badly was the woman hurt?”
Alan, who seemed to notice Jill for the first time, gasped and fell backward. He pointed at Jill as he stammered, “Robin, this seductress is the very woman Little John attempted to save!”
Seductress? No one had ever called her that before.
Robin, his eyes narrowed, turned to Jill.
“That other woman is my sister,” Jill explained. “We’re twins. Alan, how badly was she hurt?”
“I saw blood, but then I looked away. I have a weak constitution.”
Fighting down the panic, Jill moved toward her horse that was still tethered to the tree, but Will blocked her way. She held out an open palm and gave him what she hoped was her death stare.
“Will, give me my horse.”
“How stupid do you think I am?” Will’s voice held unmistakable mockery. “I captured a spy. I’m not going to let you run away.”
“I’m not a spy. I’m rescuing my sister.”
Robin eyed her with suspicion. “Why were you riding through Sherwood?”
A flow chart of potential answers appeared before Jill’s eyes. The absolute truth wouldn’t work. If she made something up, and storytelling had never been her strong suit, Robin would know she was lying. Did a correct answer exist?
“Your silence condemns you,” Robin declared. “How much did Guy of Gisbourne pay you to trap me?”
“You’ve got the wrong idea about me—in more ways than one.”
“The more I consider this, the more curious—and suspicious—I am.” Robin crossed his arms over his chest. “Your attire, for instance. Quite different from anything I’ve seen before. And your speech—it’s not a dialect I’m familiar with. You say you’re a mason, but whoever heard of a woman mason, and with such soft hands as well?”
“I can explain.”
But could she? Did she have any idea what was going on? Maybe this was some elaborate live action role play she had stumbled into. Maybe it was part of the horse tour. Or maybe she had traveled through time.
Was Jill Mason, engineer and the self-proclaimed realist of the family, truly considering time travel as a viable explanation?
Robin tapped his foot.
“My sister and I were traveling through your forest,” Jill began. “We were looking for you, but not to spy. We wanted to join your band.”
Her own forthrightness surprised her, but she didn’t regret what she said.
“How did you know to come here?”
“Everyone knows Robin Hood lives in Sherwood Forest.”
He broke into a scornful laugh. “Will, doesn’t it strike you as odd that a woman who looks like her appears in the forest at a time we know the sheriff and Guy are present and asks to join us?”
“It does.”
“I think so too,” Alan added.
“Shut up, Alan.” Robin didn’t even look at the boy when he spoke.
Who did she look like? A wife? A girlfriend? Jill’s heart sank a little. Of course Robin couldn’t be attracted to Jill Mason. She reminded him of someone else he loved—Maid Marian. Where there was a Little John, a Will Scarlet, and an Alan-a-dale, there had to be a Marian.
“Must be a coincidence,” Jill suggested.
“I don’t believe in coincidence,” Robin protested. “Everything happens by design. If not mine, someone else’s. Where do you come from, Jill Mason?”
Several times on the trip, Joanna had commented that Jill didn’t need Joanna, that Jill could take care of herself in any situation, but in this moment, Jill desperately needed her sister. Joanna would know what to say, would make up a good story, would be able to explain how they came across the ocean from a continent Robin had never heard of, and people would believe her.
Robin leaned in to speak in her ear. He smelled like fresh air and campfire smoke. She was grateful he must have bathed more recently than Will. “Guy knew I’d be taken by your beauty, but he didn’t teach you how to answer.”
Joanna was bleeding somewhere, captured, and needing help. No man, no matter how handsome or flattering, was going to waste Jill’s time with these silly games.
“I don’t think you’re interested in the truth.” Jill felt her anger rising.
“I agree.” Robin pointed to Will. “Take her purse.”
“It’s a bag,” Jill corrected. “I don’t carry purses.”
“Of course you do,” Will mocked. “Everyone has a purse. What do you have in there? Gold? Silver?”
If Jill pulled out her money and threw it at them, maybe they would be distracted long enough that she could jump on the horse and ride away. She opened her bag slowly and pulled out her leather change purse that held a twenty-pound note, two one-pound coins, and assorted denominations of pence. She dumped the coins into her hand and threw them into the air, but no one jumped for them. Instead, all three men let the coins fall to the ground. So much for that plan! Now she wouldn’t have the coin to use at the Nottingham train station pay toilet—if she ever got back there.
Robin, Will, and Alan stared at her in stony silence before Robin finally knelt down and picked up a one-pence piece. His brow furrowed. “Puzzling. Is this a woman’s face on the coin? E-R-2?”
She could kick him. With a transfer of her weight to her left foot, she could complete a front kick to his chin which would throw him backward and give her a chance to run. She could find another horse if she had to leave this one behind. Shifting her weight, she kicked, but to her surprise, Robin caught her leg in his hand
s and held it. She lost her balance and fell backward, the wind knocked out of her. Robin hovered over her before she could breathe, pinning her arms to the ground.
Jill heard the blood pounding in her ears and felt the heat rising in her neck. She stared at him, willing her breath back, as she squeaked, “What happened to protecting the weak and unfortunate?”
Alan laughed. “Intriguing idea.”
“Yes, it is,” Will agreed. “At present, it’s all about revenge.”
Robin gave Will a dirty look.
Noting his distraction, Jill lifted her knee, intending to impact his stomach or groin, but he dodged and laughed. Moving closer until his lips were inches from hers, he taunted in a half-whisper, “Do that again.”
Jill had never had a man on top of her before. She equal parts hated him and wanted to make out with him.
Alan cleared his throat. “If Jill Mason is to be a member of our band, shouldn’t we have a proper contest?”
“She is not joining our band.” Robin’s eyes never left Jill’s. “She’s infiltrating it.”
“Either way,” Alan said, his voice tentative, “what you two are doing right now…”
“If you need privacy,” Will offered, “say so.”
With a growl, Robin pushed himself away from Jill and stood up.
Jill’s face felt hot. She rose slowly to her feet, noting that no one extended a hand to help her.
Robin rubbed the back of his neck. “Alan, what do you suggest we do?”
“An epic battle. A woman should fight for the opportunity to join your band. As for weapons, swords perhaps, or staffs, lifted high in challenge.”
Will snickered, but Robin ignored him and said, “Yes, I see where you’re heading.”
Staffs were a lot like broomsticks. Jill had defeated her self-defense instructor with a broomstick. She might have the same luck with this outlaw. She’d like to bring him down a peg or two—or make out with him. But since kissing didn’t seem likely at the moment, she would be satisfied with humiliating him. He might have the advantage of strength, but if she could demonstrate her agility, she might have a chance.
“We need to create a sense of theater, set the scene,” Alan continued. “Too bad you’ve already thrown off your cloak, Robin. Did you flair it out the way I showed you?”
Robin blushed.
“I choose staffs,” Jill declared.
“That’s been done,” Will interrupted. “Little John, you know.”
“No, no, I like it.” Alan nodded several times. “You could only fight with swords if you mistakenly believed she was a man, which you don’t, and it’s not very gentlemanly either. The staff’s symbolism is amusing. We need a different setting, though—something more dangerous to heighten the adventure.”
“I know a stream with a fallen log over it.” Will pointed north.
“A slippery log?”
“No, just a log.”
Alan shrugged. “That could come in the embellishment, I suppose.”
Robin picked up his cloak and longbow. “Come on, then,” he said to Jill.
“Hold on a second.” Jill put up a hand. “If I’m going to fight you, I need to know what the stakes are.”
Robin frowned in thought. “If I win, which I most certainly will, I get your purse—and you.”
“And if I win,” Jill countered, “I join your band, I get to keep my bag, and you have to help me rescue my sister.” Asking for a kiss seemed too forward. Hopefully that would happen organically later.
“Agreed.”
“Regardless, you’ll both be immortalized in song,” Alan promised.
Rolling his eyes at Alan, Robin lifted the horn that hung at his belt and sounded the seven notes Jill had heard in the forest right before Joanna’s horse broke lose. Within seconds Jill heard footsteps and rustling in the brush. Men and teenaged boys one by one stepped out of the forest, all of them clad in green and brown, until close to thirty of them stood in a loose circle around Robin and Jill.
Robin pointed to a short, stout man with a dark beard. “Stutely, get us two staffs.”
Stutely scanned the crowd of men and called two over, ordering them to surrender their staffs. After judging the size and weight of each to be equal, Stutely delivered them to Jill and Robin. Twisting the staff in her hand, Jill compared it to the broomstick and found it a little heavier and thicker, but not enough to make her uncomfortable.
Robin waved his hand to the gang. “To the stream!”
Watching to see what became of her horse, Jill saw Will pass the reins to a teenaged boy with curly brown hair. Depending on how this fight went, she might need to make a speedy escape on that animal.
Concern for Joanna and what might be happening to her paralyzed Jill for a second, but she pushed the thought away. Joanna would be all right because Jill would get to her in time and save her. But first, Jill had to defeat Robin Hood and convince him to lend his resources to the rescue. His strength presented a problem, and their fighting on a log would seriously impede her maneuverability. But men had a habit of overlooking or underestimating her, and she could use that to her advantage. She had bested her self-defense teacher, and Robin wasn’t any taller or stronger than he was. Plus, literature was on her side. If she remembered her Robin Hood lore correctly, the outlaw was often beaten by aspiring members of his band.
When the merry men reached the stream, the gang parted, taking up positions on the bank in order to better see the spectacle while Robin approached the stream bed which was about fifteen feet wide. A large tree, at least two feet in diameter, had fallen across the chasm, its bark worn almost smooth from foot traffic. The flat surface was hardly dangerous if a person crossed in peaceful circumstances, but it looked like a gauntlet of death to Jill. Six feet below the log, the stream surged. While the water probably wasn’t more than three feet deep, Jill knew someone could get seriously hurt in such conditions. Whoever fell off this log—and there was at least a fifty-percent chance it would be her—would have a hard, wet landing.
Robin clamped his hand on her shoulder and pushed her, almost gently, away from the log, saying, “I’ll be the gentleman and cross to the other side. Then, when Will blows my horn,” he tossed his horn to the redhead, “we begin fighting. Whoever reaches the opposite side dry is the victor.”
Robin set his quiver, bow, hat, and cloak on the ground. Slowly, Jill pulled off her bag and stashed her wristwatch inside before laying her things next to Robin’s, noting the unlikely juxtaposition of her black Eagle Creek bag next to his medieval implements.
Robin mounted the log first, nimbly trotting to the opposite bank. He didn’t even look down. But as Jill stepped onto the log, she could only see the water swirling below, rising up to meet her and engulf her. She felt sick. If she fell, she could break a leg, her back, even her neck. Heaven only knew what sort of primitive medicine was available in this place.
“Are both parties ready?” Will called out.
Robin banged the butt of his staff on the log in response. Jill did the same a split second later, hoping no one noticed she was figuring out the rules as she went.
Will blew a short blast on the horn to signal the start of the match.
Jill gripped the staff in both hands, wondering if she should make the first move. Without hesitation, Robin advanced, shouting, “On guard!”