Sherwood Rogue

Chapter One - Scene 2

We stayed on the road for a while, then cut up into the woods to head north. I moved noisily through the underbrush, though I could hardly hear my companions. They were quiet as falling sunlight, while I was a spring windstorm.

Finally, we came to a clearing and I could see men moving around. A deer roasted in a huge fire pit, while men set up tables and brought out dishes. I stopped at the edge of the clearing to look around, taking in the scene. David kept walking, as did most of the others, but Mark and two others waited behind me. I saw the dull flash of a knife as one of them moved.

In a sweeping glance, I took a quick head count. A little over forty, including the ones in David's group. Not as many men as legends said.

"Well, Little Italian," Mark said, stepping up beside me. "What do you think?"

"I have a name," I said, not looking at him. My gaze landed on a man standing by the fire pit, talking with David.

"I don't care," Mark sneered.

His attitude reminded me of the bullies from school, and I struggled to ignore his insulting manner. I'd been out of school for four years, but the urge to fight back was still strong-and would not do here.

"Is that Robin Hood talking with David of Doncaster?" I gestured with my chin. David pointed my way, and the man looked at me and nodded.

"Aye, that's him, boyo. Look, he wants you. You'd best go, Little Italian."

When Robin beckoned to me, Mark's attitude was forgotten.

I moved slowly across the clearing, afraid of meeting the man who was such a major figure in my childhood fantasies. The man who would decide my fate.

I stopped about a meter away from him and dropped to one knee, my eyes focused on his worn, soft leather boots. I cleared my throat, trying to find my voice. "Master Robin Hood."

"Get up," Robin said, his voice a mixture of command and kindness. A voice one could not easily disobey.

I looked up, then stood.

Robin Hood.

I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but the man before me certainly wasn't what I had imagined. He had a kind face, laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. The eyes themselves were so deep blue, they looked black in this light. He had a small, sharp nose and a mouth that seemed generous with its smiles. His chin sported a blondish three-day beard, and a moustache of the same color grew above his upper lip. Blond hair fell to his shoulders in waves splashing against the faded red of his jerkin.

But more than physical appearance, the man had a charismatic presence demanding blind faith. He made me feel I would go to hell and back for him if he asked.

I could see why Robin Hood had gained a following such as legends were made of, and why he was such a feared fellow in his time. He commanded a company of men who would do anything he asked-and the ruling class had every reason to be afraid.

Robin looked me over, then stepped closer. When his gaze locked on mine, my knees felt like they would turn to water at any moment. His presence was strong, just like the fire behind his eyes. I was drowning in him while he looked into my soul, and I tried not to quake in my boots.

When he broke our gaze, I still felt his presence, but it wasn't as strong. He knew what he was doing, knew exactly what his stare could do. Released from that intensity, I didn't need to worry about falling any more.

"I am Robin Hood," he said. "Who are you?"

"Kay," I answered.

"Just Kay? Nothing more?"