Robin: Lady of Legend (The Classic Adventures of the Girl Who Became Robin Hood) by R.M. ArceJaeger
Authors: R.M. ArceJaeger
Ads: Link
trail ended proved to be the top of a granite cliff, whose mild decline led to the verge of a winding, azure stream. The sight of the watercourse below made Robin dizzy, and she realized just how thirsty she was. Instinctively, she began to clamber down the speckled boulders and thick slabs of rock, as indeed she must have done many times over the last few days, touching the stones for balance with fingers that trembled.
At last, her feet touched down on silty soil, and Robin sank to her knees, folding her hands into a leaky cup and drinking deeply from the stream. The thin water cooled the hot thickness of her tongue and helped assuage her empty stomach. Tossing back her head, Robin poured the clear, cool water over her face, letting it trickle across her cheeks and into her hair like tears.
“God, my God, have mercy on me. I am truly sorry, forgive me,” she whispered.
Several minutes passed, during which time Robin stared unseeing at the bank across the stream. Finally, she shook her head hard and forced her weary mind to consider her predicament.
By now, the foresters who had survived the fight would have borne their tale to the nearest village, and from there word would have spread to watch for the hooded lad who had killed Sheriff Darniel’s nephew. Disguised as she was, Robin would not get very far down the road toward London Town before the Sheriff’s soldiers would surely halt her for questioning. Their methods of inquiry were rarely gentle, and her true identity would be quickly discovered. Most likely she would simply be returned home to marry Darniel, but the soldiers might decide to ask the foresters if they could identify her; if they did, she would be hanged for murder.
Taking off her hood and resuming her normal appearance was hardly an option, either. Assuming that Robin could find a peasant willing to trade her tunic for a dress, Lord Locksley was sure by now to have men searching everywhere for his tall, blue-eyed, blonde daughter—he might even have posted a reward for her safe return! No one would think twice about returning an errant young lady to her father, especially if gold was involved. She would be dragged back home to marry the Sheriff or dragged off to the gallows as soon as she left the forest, depending on her attire. Neither option held much appeal.
I could just stay here , Robin thought, gazing up at the rocks that hid the glade from view. The soldiers will cease to hunt me after a while, and my father in time will give up his search; then I can continue on to London Town as I had originally planned. Until then, I can live here. There is water, and I am well able to hunt for food. As for shelter, there is plenty of wood, and time enough yet to construct one before the rains start in earnest. I can survive.
Filled with determination, Robin began the climb back up the cliff.
Her weapons lay where she had left them, a few cubits away from the base of the oak. For a moment, Robin just stared at them, a farrago of emotion warring within her. At last she picked up her bow stave, running her hands over it to warm it up.
She did not have the strength to hunt far, so Robin found a nearby tree to perch in and waited for something to wander by. She waited until the sun was beginning to set. Just as she was about to give up the hope of any dinner, a roe pricket poked its nose out of a bush. Robin’s trembling muscles caused her to miss her first shot, but she gritted her teeth and got in a swift, second shot just before the frightened deer could bound out of range.
The deer she had managed to take down was small—perhaps thirty pounds—but it was more than enough meat for one person. The delight of knowing she would soon have a full belly was tainted, however, by the memory of John’s warning against killing the King’s deer.
“As a noble and a cousin to the King, I have the right to hunt in this forest,” Robin reasoned defensively, startling herself with the sound of her own
At last, her feet touched down on silty soil, and Robin sank to her knees, folding her hands into a leaky cup and drinking deeply from the stream. The thin water cooled the hot thickness of her tongue and helped assuage her empty stomach. Tossing back her head, Robin poured the clear, cool water over her face, letting it trickle across her cheeks and into her hair like tears.
“God, my God, have mercy on me. I am truly sorry, forgive me,” she whispered.
Several minutes passed, during which time Robin stared unseeing at the bank across the stream. Finally, she shook her head hard and forced her weary mind to consider her predicament.
By now, the foresters who had survived the fight would have borne their tale to the nearest village, and from there word would have spread to watch for the hooded lad who had killed Sheriff Darniel’s nephew. Disguised as she was, Robin would not get very far down the road toward London Town before the Sheriff’s soldiers would surely halt her for questioning. Their methods of inquiry were rarely gentle, and her true identity would be quickly discovered. Most likely she would simply be returned home to marry Darniel, but the soldiers might decide to ask the foresters if they could identify her; if they did, she would be hanged for murder.
Taking off her hood and resuming her normal appearance was hardly an option, either. Assuming that Robin could find a peasant willing to trade her tunic for a dress, Lord Locksley was sure by now to have men searching everywhere for his tall, blue-eyed, blonde daughter—he might even have posted a reward for her safe return! No one would think twice about returning an errant young lady to her father, especially if gold was involved. She would be dragged back home to marry the Sheriff or dragged off to the gallows as soon as she left the forest, depending on her attire. Neither option held much appeal.
I could just stay here , Robin thought, gazing up at the rocks that hid the glade from view. The soldiers will cease to hunt me after a while, and my father in time will give up his search; then I can continue on to London Town as I had originally planned. Until then, I can live here. There is water, and I am well able to hunt for food. As for shelter, there is plenty of wood, and time enough yet to construct one before the rains start in earnest. I can survive.
Filled with determination, Robin began the climb back up the cliff.
Her weapons lay where she had left them, a few cubits away from the base of the oak. For a moment, Robin just stared at them, a farrago of emotion warring within her. At last she picked up her bow stave, running her hands over it to warm it up.
She did not have the strength to hunt far, so Robin found a nearby tree to perch in and waited for something to wander by. She waited until the sun was beginning to set. Just as she was about to give up the hope of any dinner, a roe pricket poked its nose out of a bush. Robin’s trembling muscles caused her to miss her first shot, but she gritted her teeth and got in a swift, second shot just before the frightened deer could bound out of range.
The deer she had managed to take down was small—perhaps thirty pounds—but it was more than enough meat for one person. The delight of knowing she would soon have a full belly was tainted, however, by the memory of John’s warning against killing the King’s deer.
“As a noble and a cousin to the King, I have the right to hunt in this forest,” Robin reasoned defensively, startling herself with the sound of her own
Similar Books
