Halloween in Sherwood 2 - Much's Monster

Much's Monster

Much woke with a start. Something had disturbed him, yet he wasn't sure what. And, as he usually slept with the dedication of the dead, it must have been something significant.
Raising his head, he scanned the camp, which lay silent and slumbering around him. It was still early, and nighttime blanketed the forest in velvety darkness. Although he squinted, he couldn't see a thing. Even lifting his hand from the covers and holding it in front of his face resulted in nothing. Just the black of night.
His scalp began to crawl with fear. The darkness felt ominous, almost as if someone was out there, watching him.
Someone, or something. His mind raced with irrational thoughts. Things had been odd for days, with items moving around the camp of their own volition, or just plain disappearing. What if the person responsible was in the camp right now, and meant him harm?
Much swallowed with difficulty, his throat suddenly dry. He blinked a couple of times, hoping his vision would be miraculously restored. Looking out at the camp again, he began to notice shapes in the darkness, and thankfully, they were things he recognised. The stove. The small log Will was using to make a bowl. Robin's bow, leant against the doorway that lead to the privy. A monster.
Much did a quick, petrified double-take. The huge figure that he had clearly spotted, watching him from the rear of the camp, had vanished. But he had already seen it. He knew it was there.
Looking round wildly, his heart in his mouth, Much audibly gasped as his gaze found the dark figure again. It had moved closer, and was standing beside Little John's bunk. It appeared to be staring in Much's direction, and, as he watched, it took a step nearer.
With a frightened whimper, Much dragged the blankets over his head and huddled underneath them, his heart beating wildly. He was frozen with terror, and couldn't even articulate a shout to warn the rest of the gang. There was a.... a MONSTER in the camp, and Much was too scared to even tackle it. It might be out there now, attacking John. Tearing a limb from Djaq. Eating Allan!
Much paused in his fear, ruminating on the pleasant thought of no more ridicule from Allan as a result of the monster's hunger. But then, he shook his head, and focused on his terror again as he heard a sound beside his bed. It was a heavy yet muffled sound, as if something wrapped in a sack had been dropped to the ground. Or a huge monsters foot had stepped up to his bed and stopped.
Much shrank into his straw-filled mattress, attempting to make himself as small as possible. He had begun to sweat, and expected at any moment for the monster to grab him and tear him from the cover of the blankets. He heard a slight shuffling noise, and opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. His voice was as frozen with fear as he was.
He screwed his eyes shut and began to pray, fervently. First of all, he apologised to God for not being as God-fearing as his parents had hoped he'd be. He wasn't sure his lifestyle as an outlaw was devout and law-abiding enough to secure his place in heaven, but right now, that didn't matter. What did matter was that he was about to be eaten by a monster, so surely God would accept his prayers on this occasion, and listen.
Something bumped against his knee and there was a mournful growl.
Much started violently, and his prayers quickened as he mouthed the words frantically. This is it, he thought. This is the end. He could hardly believe that his life was about to be snuffed out before he'd even found true love, or tried French cheese, or returned to his rightful place as Earl of Bonchurch.
He wasn't sure how long he lay there, praying desperately and listening out for the monster reaching for him. He must have eventually drifted off, for when he awoke, the light was different and something was gripping him tightly by the arm, shaking him roughly. He felt like he was underground, for there was something close against his face, suffocating him, and his limbs were held tightly against his body.
He was buried alive, and a creature was attacking his arm! Much screamed and began to struggle, ferociously, gasping for breath. Whatever it was let go of his arm, and suddenly, he was free of the cloying covers, and he realised he was in his bed, wrapped in the blankets, and Allan, Will, and Djaq were staring down at him in alarm.
The scream died in Much's throat and his mouth closed slowly as his eyes darted around the camp over their shoulders. He hadn't been buried alive after all. He was in his bed, safe and sound. Nobody was eating his arm. He was fine.
"Are you alright?" Djaq asked him, wide-eyed.
"You were screaming," Will pointed out, worriedly.
"I'm not being funny but I'll be screaming soon if you don't get breakfast on," Allan commented, dryly.
Much sat up and dragged a hand over his face, shakily. "I slept in? I never sleep in. Where's Robin?"
"Probably starving to death in a corner," Allan replied, deadpan, and wandered away.
Much sat up, disentangling himself from the covers, and looked around. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, an ominous feeling of dread, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. Maybe he'd had a bad dream. He felt extremely groggy, and assumed it was because he had slept in.
"Are you alright?" Djaq asked again, and placed a hand on his shoulder. She sounded concerned.
"Did you have a bad dream?" Will said.
Much frowned. "Maybe. I don't know."
Over Will's shoulder, Much saw Little John entering the camp, and suddenly, with a lurch of shock, he recalled the nights events, and the huge figure that had stood beside John's bed, staring straight at Much. The monster who had very nearly eaten him.
With a yelp, Much made to throw his legs over the side of the bed and stand, but they were still tangled in the blankets and he tumbled over instead until he was hanging off the bed, held fast in the covers. His moment ruined, he struggled in vain, and Djaq helped him to free himself. Once standing, he brushed himself down and strode into the middle of the camp, turning to face the gang.
"There was a monster in the camp last night," he announced, dramatically. "A huge, hulking monster. It was stood over there, watching me," he gestured at the far corner of the camp, "and then it moved past John's bed and stood beside me. It stood beside me, and it touched me." He drew himself up, importantly. "I thought I was going to die."
Djaq, Will, Allan, and John all regarded him in surprise. Shock was written on their faces as his words sank in. And then, Djaq snorted, and they all burst into laughter.
Much deflated, and glared at them all in outrage as they dissolved in mirth. He was outraged that they weren't taking his fear seriously. "What? I'm telling the truth?"
"You saw a monster in the camp?" Allan chortled. "You sure it wasn't John, up for a piss?"
"No," Much said, fervently, then paused, considering it. But no. The figure he'd seen had been bigger than John, and bulkier. "No. It wasn't John," he told them, tartly. "I'd know if it was John."
"Was it you?" Will asked John, still laughing.
"Nope. I think I'd remember getting up," John replied in amusement, and then his smile faltered as he realised the implications of what he'd admitted. "There was no one in camp," he snapped. "You were dreaming, Much."
"Of course it was a dream," Djaq soothed, seeing the hurt on Much's face. She struggled to contain her laughter and approached him. "Are you sure it wasn't a nightmare? It is All Hallow's Eve, after all. You know how you get at Halloween. Jumping at shadows and imagining all kinds of things."
Much stared at her as her words sank into his muddled brain. She was right. He did tend to get scared when Halloween approached, and Allan had been telling ghost stories around the fire the night before. It must have been that, playing on his mind, along with the strange goings-on in camp.
"I suppose so," he relented, although not entirely convinced. "I hope it was a nightmare, anyway. Because if it wasn't..."
"If what wasn't?" Robin sauntered into camp, carrying a brace of coneys, his recurve bow hooked over his shoulder. He grinned at Much and tossed him a rabbit. "Here - catch. Breakfast."
Much felt himself brighten, as he always did when Robin was happy. Times had been few and far between lately, as Robin struggled with conflicted feelings about his love Marian and her impending marriage to Guy of Gisborne, Robin's arch-enemy. Much was happy to see him happy.
"Come on, Much. Spill," Robin said, plonking himself down on a log beside their campfire and cradling his rabbit in his lap while he pulled a dagger from his belt.
"Much saw a monster," Allan said with a smirk.
"I THOUGHT I saw a monster," Much corrected, glaring at Allan as he went to sit across from Robin. "I had a nightmare."
"A nightmare?" Robin looked intrigued. "What about?"
"Oh, it was nothing," Much said, airily, but Will interrupted.
"He saw a monster stood in the corner of the camp."
"A monster?" Robin began to laugh, and Much scowled.
"It was scary. I really thought I was awake! And I don't ridicule you for your nightmares."
Robin stopped laughing and nodded, reflectively. He often experienced nightmares himself as a result of their time in the Holy Land, fighting in the crusades, and Much was the only one who ever understood, for he'd witnessed the same atrocities.
"Sorry, Much. Go on."
Much sighed, despondently. "I'd rather forget about it, really."
He didn't want to risk more ridicule from the others, but a secret part on him also wanted Robin to show an interest. His friend didn't disappoint.
"Come on, Much. Tell me."
So Much settled down and took his own dagger out, laying the rabbit across his own lap, mirroring Robin. "Well, it was a huge, hulking creature, and it was just standing in the corner, staring towards me. I was frozen with terror. I wanted to shout for help, but I couldn't speak. I could barely move."
He paused and eyed Robin, quickly, for signs of mirth. But, to his credit, Robin looked fascinated.
"What did it look like?"
Much shrugged. "I don't know for sure. It was pitch black, and all I could see were outlines. But it was big, whatever it was. And menacing. Very menacing."
"Like John when he wakes up," Allan interjected with a grin. He paused as if thinking, and then added, "and before he goes to sleep. And every time between."
Robin laughed, and John scowled across at Allan, who wisely stopped talking.
Much tutted and shook his head, before setting to work skinning the coney, assuming that the subject was closed. But Robin wasn't quite finished.
"Do you know, it sounds very much like the Beast Man of Sherwood. My father told me about him when I was a child."
"Beast man," Will repeated, thoughtfully. "You know, I think my dad told me about that legend, too."
"So, tell us the story," Djaq said with interest, moving to sit beside Much. "This sounds intriguing."
"Alright." Robin looked pleased to be asked, and placed the rabbit and his dagger on the ground before him so he could concentrate on waxing lyrical. "Rumour always had it that the Beast Man of Sherwood used to be a forester, hired to work for the first sheriff appointed by William the Bastard. He was a Saxon who knew this greenwood better than anyone, or so it was said. But, as good as he was at his job, he hated the French with a passion, and there were constant arguments and, at times, fist fights between him and the other, Frank foresters.
"Now, the Beast Man, or Aelfred, as he was known back then, was a big man, bigger than John," Robin gestured at Little John, who pretended to ignore him while clearly listening in, "and he packed quite a punch. He didn't know his own strength, and one day, a fight broke out between the foresters, and he accidentally killed the other man. The French were outraged, and dismissed the fact that it was an accident. Aelfred was sentenced to death by hanging.
"His family were distraught, and his wife begged for his freedom, but instead, they were thrown out of their home and forced to move on. But his wife, Ethel, would not go without at least attempting to help her husband. She smuggled a hairpin into the oubliette at Nottingham Castle before leaving the shire to live with family in Chester.
"Aelfred managed to free himself, but was caught escaping. He killed three guards, and maimed another, before making for Sherwood. He refused to follow his family for fear of bringing the  sheriff's men to their door. Instead, he was lost to the wilds of the greenwood.
"He never reappeared, but the other foresters who had signed his death warrant were all killed in freak accidents in the forest in the months that followed. A huge tree fell on one, crushing him to death, and another hung himself from an oak branch.
"Over the years, a huge figure was occasionally spotted in the forest, silent and ominous, and would often appear as a portent. Those who saw him had almost always done somebody wrong, and soon after seeing the Beast Man, they would get their comeuppance."
"But I haven't done anybody wrong," Much protested, vehemently, and Allan clicked his tongue.
"I dunno. You wouldn't let me have that last bread roll on Monday, and I was starving."
"You'd just polished off the last of the eggs," Much reminded him, tartly.
Allan shrugged, non-commitally. "I was still hungry. I'm a growing lad."
"You told Djaq the other day that she was no good at shelling peas," Will pointed out, innocently.
"You did," Djaq agreed. "It hurt my feelings."
"I didn't mean it like that," Much implored, believing her, before he noticed the smirks that were being exchanged. "Alright, alright. Jokes over."
Robin grinned. "I don't think you've deliberately done anyone wrong in your life, Much. But, you know, over the years, it hasn't been just the guilty who have seen the Beast Man. It has been ordinary folk, going about their business, and the Beast Man has appeared to them days, sometimes hours, before something terrible happened to them."
There were audible sniggers from the other gang members, but Much ignored them, now deeply concerned.
"So, something is going to happen to me? That's what you're saying?"
Robin burst into laughter, and was instantly joined by Allan, Will, and Djaq.
"Of course not, Much. It's a myth. There is no more a Beast Man roaming these woods than there is a huge lizard who breathes fire and flies."
Much drew himself up, primly. "Well, something left that scat in the caves out by Papplewick, and it was far too big for bear."
This resulted in more laughter, and Much rolled his eyes and lowered his head to concentrate on the rabbit, dismissing them all.
"We are just joking, Much." Djaq rested a hand on his arm. "You had a nightmare. That is all."
"Yeah, there's nothing to worry about, Much." Will sat down on his other side.
Much shrugged and relented, never one to hold a grudge for long. Djaq was right; it was just a nightmare.
"I did wonder if it was the person who keeps moving stuff around the camp," he admitted, shooting a quick glance at Allan, who seemed like the most likely culprit.
"To be fair, Much, nobody has noticed that but you," Will told him. "And you have been a bit forgetful lately. You always say Halloween gets you that way."
"I suppose," Much said, secretly happy that his friends listened to what he said and seemed to understand him.
The rest of the day was spent visiting the surrounding villages, distributing coin they had lifted from passing clergymen, set for Nottingham Castle. There were bonfires across the shire that evening, and feasts to celebrate All Hallows' Eve, and it was getting late by the time the outlaws arrived back at the camp.
Having taken advantage of the various feasts they had attended throughout the evening, Much was full and sated, and should have been ready for his bed. But, viewing the darkened corners of the area, and recalling his dream vividly, his heart sank. He couldn't sleep if he tried. What if he dreamt of the beast again? Or what if it hadn't been a dream after all, and it came back for him.
Resolutely, Much sat down beside the fire and warmed his hands over the flames. The nights were becoming chillier now as winter approached, and he craved his warm bed and blankets. But he couldn't risk it; not tonight. Not while the veil was low, and the dead could roam freely. He was scared, when it came down to it. Scared of what he'd see if he slept.
"Are you not sleeping, Much?" Djaq asked, passing on the way to her bed.
"Not yet. I'm, um, not tired yet," Much lied.
"You scared the Beast is gonna come for you?" Allan jeered, coming to sit beside him.
"No," Much snapped. "Not at all."
"Much." Robin paused by the fire, his features flickering in the movement of the flames. "Leave the fire burning. If you wake in the night, there may be light, and you'll be able to see that the camp is empty of monsters."
Much looked speculative, and glanced longingly towards his bed.
"Or just shout. I'm in the bed next to you." Allan slapped him on the back and stood up again. "This beast will be no match for the both of us."
Much smiled at him gratefully. It wasn't often that Allan showed a softer side, but Much needed it right then. Feeling a little more relaxed in the face of his gang mates support, he took Robin's advice and got into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. He exhaled deeply and felt his body relax. It had just been a nightmare. He had nothing to worry about. Dreams couldn't hurt him, but if he continued worrying about it, he could hurt himself. He didn't cope too well without a full eight hours sleep, and worrying about some dream monster could very well continue to interrupt his sleep.
He closed his eyes. Maybe he'd stay awake for a little while, and contemplate the evening they'd enjoyed. And the blonde village girl in Clun who Allan had told him was giving him the eye...

Much jerked awake, violently. He lay there for a moment in the dark, wondering what had disturbed him, and listening to the sounds of the forest as the wind blew through the trees. The campfire must be embers now, yet he could see a dim glow on the periphery of his vision, which bathed the camp in soft light.
He sighed and switched position, burrowing under the blankets, fully intending to go back to sleep. But then, he heard a slight noise and his eyes shot open again.
There was a huge figure stood over him, staring down into his face. All Much could see was a shadowed bulk with the dull light of the fire illuminating the wildness of its hair, or fur, or whatever it was.
Much gave a sharp intake of breath and his fingers tightened on the covers until his nails were digging into the material. As he watched, the figure stepped forward and reached out for him.
Opening his mouth, Much screamed at the top of his lungs. There were answering yells, and bodies began to tumble from beds, fumbling around for weapons. The huge figure reared back as if in shock, and Much used the opportunity to leap out of bed and slip past it, running for the first person he saw, who happened to be Allan.
"Much, what the hell is going on?" Allan grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
"It's.. it's the... the monster!" Much stammered, pointing behind him.
"Where, Much? Where?" Robin appeared at his elbow, sword drawn, looking about urgently. Djaq arrived beside him, a lit candle in one hand.
"Right there. Are you blind?" Much turned to jab his finger at the Beast Man, but stopped short. The tall figure had gone, and all he could see was Little John with his blankets wrapped around his shoulders, blinking in the candlelight and looking bewildered.
"What's going on?" he said, weakly. "How did I get here? I don't understand.."
His voice petered off as he noticed everybody staring at him. And then, Robin started laughing and threw his sword down. He turned to Much.
"John's been sleepwalking. There's your monster, Much."
"Sleepwalking?" John's voice was fearful as he looked about him. He scratched his head, mussing up his hair even more than it already was.
"That's it, John." Will approached him and placed a hand on his forearm. "That's why you've been so tired lately. And that's why Much keeps seeing monsters at night. You've been sleepwalking around the camp." He turned to Much. "I bet it's been him moving things around too."
Much slowly emerged from behind Allan. "It was YOU?" He glared at John. "I've been scared to death tonight, and yesterday night, and it was YOU all along. Unbelievable."
"I didn't exactly do it on purpose, Much," John snapped, disgruntled. "I can't stop myself if I'm asleep, can I?"
Robin and Allan were in peals of laughter, while Djaq intercepted, struggling to straighten her face.
"Sleepwalking is a medical condition, Much. My father taught me about it. It isn't John's fault. He didn't mean to scare you."
Much and John continued to glare at each other for a moment until Much finally relented.
"You're right. It just scared me. How was I to know it was only John?" He looked at the bigger man, grudgingly. "Sorry."
Little John sighed. "No, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to frighten anyone. I thought I was asleep.."
His voice trailed off and the gang members looked at each other in silence, before Robin sniggered and they all burst into laughter, more from relief than anything else. Much crossed the camp and slapped John on the back, and John gave him a small, apologetic smile.
"Can we go back to bed now?" Allan said, and returned to his bunk.
The others gathered around John, asking him what it had felt like, and if he'd been dreaming at the same time as sleepwalking. Chuckling to himself, Much decided to visit the privy before returning to his bed. He whistled cheerfully as he relieved himself, feeling lighter than he had all day.
Something nudged his arm hard, and Much looked over his shoulder, spotting the huge figure lurking on the other side of the privy wall, peering in at him.
Much laughed. "Alright, John. That's enough now."
"What's that, Much?" John shouted from further in the camp, where he was still talking to Robin, Djaq, and Will beside Much's bed.
Much froze in the act of lacing up his trews. Icy streams of dread began to course through his veins, and, if he hadn't just relieved himself, he probably would have lost control of his bladder.
There came a low, threatening growl behind him that rose slowly in pitch, and, as the Beast Man barged into the privy and grabbed him by the shoulder, for the second time that night, Much began to scream in terror.