BY DAVID GLENN

“No, please!” Mother’s voice was filled with pain as the Sheriff’s men tore the sword from over the mantle. “That blade belonged to my father! That’s all I have left of him.”

“Then the last of his memory shall serve His Majesty Prince John in providing the needed taxes.” The Sheriff threw my mother aside. I moved to strike him with my fists, but he seized me by my hair. “Behold, the wench’s champion.” His stinging words brought laughter from his men before I was thrown against the wall. “I am feeling generous today so I will leave you with this warning: interfere with the crown’s business again and you lose your head.” The Sheriff then turned away and marched out with his men, leaving my family poorer than before.

Heat coursed through my thirteen-year-old body. As I got up, I uttered several curses the bishop would’ve been appalled at. What right did he have to take Grandfather’s golden-hilted sword like it was his? I couldn’t help but imagine running him through with it. “If this tax is so important to the prince, why doesn’t he use his gold to free his brother? The Lord knows he must have more than enough.” 

Mother’s only answer was to grab my ear. “What the devil were you thinking, Gabriel? If you had struck the Sheriff, they’d be dragging you to that castle in chains. Then what would become of your sister and me?”

“I was trying to protect you and Leah,” I said, defending myself, “like you tried to protect Grandfather’s sword.” How could she judge me like that? I tried to find an answer but found none.

“Then I’d have lost you like I lost your father. That outlaw was never caught, and with this Sheriff, only the good Lord would’ve been able to do justice against him.”

“But that sword belonged to Grandfather. We have to get it back from the Sheriff – ”

“No, Gabriel.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Mum, you refused to sell it when Dad died, or when we lost our home and livelihood. You held on to it despite us becoming peasants, and now you’re okay with that wicked sheriff taking it for some tax? I bet the prince just made it up so he could build himself a gold castle.”

“Gabriel!” Mother finally snapped. “Not another word. I’d rather lose the sword than you. With your father gone, you and your sister are all that matter. Without you two…” her chest heaved as the painful thought brought tears to her eyes.

I then excused myself and stepped outside to calm down. I understood her reasons, but what good was I? Our fields hadn’t turned out as much as we had hoped, and no one wanted to take a Norman boy as an apprentice. Now our last heirloom had been taken from us, and what was left?  

Kicking a rock did nothing to ease my frustration. Why? Why do we have to suffer so much? Father promised England would be a fresh start for us. So far, things have only gotten worse. I wanted to lash out, to hurt someone. The Sheriff would be ideal for that, but then I remembered something Father said to me years ago. “Seeking vengeance against others is not good for us, Gabriel. Did the Messiah come to destroy the sinners of His time, or to save them? I try to do as He did, and I hope you will too.”

Father had always been a wonderful man – not just to our family, but to everyone around him. He always gave people a second chance. Back in Normandy people loved him for being so merciful. Every day I wished that the outlaws had not taken his life, but they had and nothing would change that.

The sound of splashes against wood told me my sister had returned. “Gabriel?” she asked as she set the bucket of well water down. “What happened? You look like an ogre attacked you.”

“Worse. The Sheriff took Grandfather’s sword,” I explained. “I tried to stop them but I couldn’t.”

Upon hearing that my sister let out a gasp. “Oh, my. They’ll melt it down and we’ll never get it back. Unless… unless someone steals it back.” That idea brought a smile to her face.

“Who would be able to do that?”

“Maybe Robin Hood?”

A scoff flew from my mouth at that. “Robin Hood is an outlaw – ”

“True, but he’s also a hero. Martha in the village was telling me the Sheriff took her mother’s necklace for the tax, but the next day it was back in her house. She learned Robin and his Merry Men took the taxes back and gave them to the people, and they got a good laugh when the Sheriff returned to his castle. We should find him and – ”

“No, Leah!” I snapped at her. “Did you forget that an outlaw is the reason we are fatherless? I’d sooner sell my soul than ask any outlaw for help!”

Puffing out her cheeks like she tended to do, she huffed, “Fine. Be that way. Be the stubborn old mule who won’t do the work.” With that, she picked up the water bucket and marched back into our home.

Shaking my head, I grabbed the tools and headed out to the fields to work on the wheat crops. They had just been planted, and I was determined to have them survive this year. She just didn’t know what she was saying. Asking an outlaw for help. If he wanted to help, he’d let someone capture him for the reward money. The amount the Sheriff was offering was enough to allow the family to live comfortably in France, maybe Spain.

It’s not like I didn’t want to help Mother. I’ve been trying to support her and Leah ever since Father died. I tried to reason that leaving Normandy for England was a bad idea, but Father wanted to live in the same land as King Richard. We had been traveling to Nottingham when those outlaws ambushed us. Father tried to hold them off, but their leader just shot him with an arrow before moving in with a knife. The only thing that had driven them off was the arrival of the Sheriff’s men.

The Sheriff had been friendly enough when we had money, but then Prince John began raising the taxes across all of England. When our funds ran out and we were forced to become peasants, the Sheriff’s warmth melted. If he focused less on collecting those taxes and more time on stopping murderers and thieves, things would be a little more bearable. We’d still have Father if the Sheriff actually did his job instead of enforcing this stupid tax.

The air was getting warmer with the sun beating down. The heat forced me to take a break. My eyes were wandering as… wait. Was that Leah I saw? It was, but she was heading straight into Sherwood Forest. What was she thinking? Calling her name did no good as either she couldn’t hear me or was ignoring me. Probably both.

Abandoning my tools, I ran across the field to where the tree line started. What are you thinking, Leah? That you’re just going to stroll into the woods and find that outlaw? You won’t go into the forest even to pick flowers. What makes you think you can do it if the Sheriff and his men couldn’t? You’d better hope that someone else finds you first because I’m going to make sure you repent in church, so help me.

As I passed under the shadows of the trees, the shade almost felt like a comforting hand against the sun. I thought the place would be more foreboding, but it was welcoming like it wanted people to come in. The light of the sun filtering through the leaves mixed with the song of birds almost made this place feel like a sanctuary. Shaking my head, my arms parted some of the soft leaves of a bush while I followed after my sister.

“Leah!” I called out my sister’s name but got no response. She just kept pushing on through the underbrush. Oh, you better not be ignoring me. If you find wolves or a bear, then… no. I can’t think like that. I can find her before something else does. It’s not like she’s going to stumble on some fairies. Why are these bushes so hard to move? It’s like they don’t want me to catch up to her. Wait. Where is she? No. I’ve lost her!

How far have I gone into the forest looking for my sister? Looking back yielded no sign of the fields I left; just a curtain of green and brown. The birds seemed to be singing a woodland melody as I pushed on through the underbrush. The flowers produced a strong, sweet fragrance, like natural beauty instead of the heavy perfumes I remember noblewomen coating themselves in. I can’t believe that we were led around the forest instead of through it when we first arrived in Nottingham. This might’ve made things easier, but then we might not have been found by the Sheriff’s men when those outlaws – 

A shrill scream then reached my ears. Wait. That was… oh, no. Death’s icy grip would be more inviting than the terror that seized my heart. Bolting as fast as my legs could move, I then burst into a clearing – what in heaven’s name? Those were the Sheriff’s men, and they were holding a struggling Leah in their arms! The man in charge was looking over her, and I didn’t like the expression on his face. Somehow it was how I imagined the serpent when he tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden.

“Leah!” Rushing forward, my way was blocked when one of the Sheriff’s men knocked me to the ground! Coughing while my vision cleared, I heard the man speak. “Well, well, well. What have we here? Some random outlaw comes to steal our prize from us?” That… that voice… no. It couldn’t be.

Getting up, I said, “No, that’s my sister you’re abducting…” My voice failed as my eyes fell upon the face of their leader. There was no doubt. I could never forget that scar over his right eye. Wait. What was with those bird calls?

Drawing his sword, he said, “No. You’re just a random vagabond trying to molest this poor innocent girl when we rescued her.” As he raised his sword, he added, “At least the wolves will feed well tonight.” As he brought the blade down to end my life, I heard Leah screaming my name, begging for someone to help. What? There came a couple of sharp clangs, and the sword was lying on the ground with a couple of arrows to the side.

Jolly laughter broke through the trees which seemed to hide the voice that spoke next. “Which wolves though? I think the ones here In Sherwood would prefer a little more meat.” That taunt earned the attention of all the soldiers, and their faces twisted with contempt as they laid eyes on the speaker. A man with messy brown hair stood on the branch of a tree, a wily smirk upon his face as he looked at us. Dressed in brown and green, the man carried a longbow that had an arrow ready to fire. So it was to him that I owed my life.

The leader narrowed his eyes. “Robin of Locksley. This time you will not escape. In the name of Prince John, I arrest you.”

“And how do you plan to do that? Has the Sheriff figured out how to fly? Because I think you need to ground your ambitions.”

Without warning, one of the men was knocked to the ground by a bearded giant carrying a quarterstaff. With a roar, he swung again and knocked the other guard aside, allowing my sister to run.

Others soon leaped from the bushes to join the scuffle. One man changed from playing the lute to using it to knock men off their feet. Two more also sprang forward using ropes to trip up these soldiers who got back to their feet. Finally, all the soldiers were disarmed and the outlaws stood about them in a circle.

Leaping down from the tree, Robin of Locksley began stroking his beard. “Hmmm… it seems that in my forest I carry the authority to pass judgment. Men, you saw their crimes. Trespassing. Attempted abduction and murder. What sentence do you think they deserve?”

“Death!” Was the resounding answer, and the Sheriff’s men paled at that. Some even began pleading for mercy.

“My men proclaim death should be your sentence, but some plead for mercy. Methinks we should ask the two whom you wronged.” Turning our way, he asked us, “What say you? What sentence do these ruffians deserve?”

Taking a look at the men, I was going to pronounce death when I remembered what my father taught about mercy. He had always been a firm believer in second chances. For a moment I thought of how my mother begged for mercy when he died, but there was no mercy for us. They would’ve killed us if it weren’t for the Sheriff’s men intervening. Father’s words and Mother’s face made it clear what I had to choose. With a sigh, I decided, “They would’ve killed me and abducted my sister, but one of them is also guilty of murdering my father. I choose to do what they would not. Those who beg for mercy should have it. The others… do what you will.”

When my sister gave an agreeing remark, Robin nodded. “An excellent sentence.” The leader of the outlaws smiled. With a wave of his hand, the Merry Men separated those who had begged for mercy and pointed the way out of Sherwood Forest. My heart dropped when I saw my father’s murderer beg for mercy, along with the other soldiers. Still, my sentence stood, and they were allowed to depart from the forest.

Spitting at their comrades, the last of the soldiers declared, “We will not lower ourselves to beg for mercy from the enemy of the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John. Kill us and you earn the wrath of the crown.” With that, the rest tried to struggle against their restraints.

Placing a hand on our backs, Robin led my sister and me away from the area. “Come now. This is not something you two need to see. Besides, I desire to know why two youths such as yourselves would venture into the forest.”

With that invitation, my sister laid bare our problems. She explained how an heirloom of our family had been taken by the Sheriff for the tax and it had left our mother heartbroken. As much as I didn’t want to, I confirmed the details Leah gave the outlaw. The whole time, he stroked his beard and nodded with understanding.

When we finished, he spoke, “It pains me to know that still the good people of Nottingham suffer under the Sheriff, and knowing such pain goes across England. It so happens that my men and I have taken the tax the Sheriff collected, and I recall a fine blade being among it. You are free to look at it, and if it is your family’s sword, you may reclaim it.”

Because it sounded too good to be true, I found myself disbelieving it. Why was he offering to let us look through anything, and how did he get his hands on the tax so soon? This just seemed too suspicious for me to take him seriously – 

“I accept,” Leah said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “If it’s a chance to reclaim Grandfather’s sword then I will take it.”

“Oh, no.” Grabbing her shoulders, I told her, “I’m not letting you go off into the woods with an outlaw.”

“An outlaw who just saved our lives.”

“That still doesn’t make it a good idea. We know nothing about them.”

“I do. They’re heroes, and you’re still too grieved over Father to see it.”

I had to face the facts. She was not going to relent on this, and would probably walk barefoot into hell. With a sigh, I said, “Then I guess I’ll have to make sure nothing bad happens.”

Her expression softened at that. “You mean, you’re coming with me? Why?”

“Because I don’t trust them. If it’ll rest your conscience, think of it as a chance to prove me wrong.” I growled. Sometimes I couldn’t stand my sister.

“Splendid.” Robin smiled at us. “Now that we agree, let us proceed.” With that, the wily outlaw led us off the path and into the woods. The leaves seemed to part for him like allies welcoming an old friend home, but the branches slapped against me. Why did I feel like the forest was echoing my sister’s sentiments?

Finally, Robin parted some bushes and gestured to an old oak tree with a rock at the roots. At the base was a chest that had an assortment of valuables scattered about, from bags of coins to jewels and trinkets. However, my eyes fell upon something that I recognized as my family’s treasure. Walking over, I picked up the golden-hilted sword and unsheathed it. The blade seemed to glow in the light that broke through the trees like it was reassuring me that it was all right.

“That’s it. That’s Grandfather’s sword.” Leah smiled as she joined me. “We got it back.”

“So that blade was your family’s,” the leader of the Merry Men smiled. “Then I say this quest was a success. As agreed, it is yours to take.”

There was still something that bothered me. “Robin, why did you help us? You and your men could’ve been comfortable with all this treasure.”

“Then how would we be any different from the Sheriff and his men?” Robin’s smile faded. “While such treasure would make our lives easier, the good people would still suffer under the reign of Prince John and men like the Sheriff. Even though Nottingham is only one small part of England, we will do what we can to give people hope.”

Something about his words reminded me of how Father used to speak. Now I felt bad about misjudging him. “Robin, I… I was wrong about you. You’re not an outlaw. You’re a hero.”

“I told you so,” Leah smirked at me.

At that, Robin laughed. “Of course, I’m an outlaw, but why do you think that means I can’t be a hero? Now, I believe you should be getting back before it gets dark.”

[FIN]

(This story first published in Tales of Chivalry: A Medieval Anthology)