Page 35 of Robin and Marian
“Uh oh!” She hadn’t caught her mare’s name to make it behave. Now the creek that divided her from where she had come was widening into stronger, more troubled waters. She tried to turn back, but the mare was too annoyed and, with a snort of impatience, it shook Marian off its back.
Her heart lodged into her throat as she landed with a grunt in a soft pile of dirt and leaves. Pain jolted through her arms and knees as she scrambled up to grapple for the reins, but the mare was too fast and galloped off. She let out a cry. Had she just lost her horse in the middle of the forest?
The clashing noise of bells that had caused the trouble in the first place sounded near the shore. They rang loud and clear, even over the noise of the water. Since Marian couldn’t get more lost than she already was, she sighed and followed it.
She pushed through the rough foliage and trees and got stuck on overhanging bluffs that forced her to backtrack until she was finally back to the edge of the creek, where she saw a long, narrow bridge missing chunks of its railings. It was built in multiple sections, the base anchored onto odd-sized boulders in the creek. Scraps of plywood had been added to it throughout the years.
A lone ribbon streamed beneath it, floating in the water. With the rush of wind, she heard the bells loud and clear. The maypole was here. Would Richard really stash it in the creek?
At almost the same moment, Robin appeared on the other side of the creek, holding the reins of both his horse and hers. Her heart quickened at the sight of him. He’d come for her! Even with his forearm in his cast, he looked more than capable of getting her out. Relief flooded his face when he saw her. The wind blew his white shirt against his taut stomach. “Marian! What happened?”
At least that’s what she thought he’d said. The noise of the creek drowned his voice. “Robin!” she shouted in her excitement. “Bells!”
“What?”
“Bells, and see? A ribbon in the water.”
He couldn’t hear her and so she decided to show him what she meant, picking her way across the creaking bridge. He held his hands out. “No!” His mouth formed the words. “Stop!”
She hesitated near the edge.
To the side, a branch snapped and she saw they were not alone when Little John cleared the trees near the bank where Robin stood. He was in full-on camo, like maybe he’d been hunting, though she didn’t think Sherwood was zoned for that. His shirt was open at the neck, and the light caught the gleam of a gold chain. He lifted his shades to stare first at Robin and then at Marian across the bridge. Two other men she didn’t recognize followed him through the brush.
Remembering what the sheriff had said about Little John, Marian got nervous. If he’d been behind that fire, what would he do now that Robin was in his hands? Little John sneered at Robin, his loud shout carrying over the rushing water. “How’s the arm?” Too late, she saw the gleam of a knife in his hand.
“Robin!” she cried out and dashed back to the bridge.
Robin dropped the reins and ran for her. “No!” The bridge cracked under her feet, and Marian finally understood the reason for his fear. But the bells and the ribbon? Why would Richard set up such a trap… unless he hadn’t done it? Her eyes went to Little John and his knife as he watched the scene unfold with jaundiced eyes.
The bridge was collapsing, and Robin was now in the middle of it, trying to save her. Her hands went to the railings as the platform gave way and Robin went crashing into the swollen creek.
“Robin!” she shouted.
She waited for him to emerge, and when he didn’t, she screamed out his name again and tried to cross the broken pieces of the bridge to reach where he’d fallen. John came out of nowhere with his knife. She screamed again, and clawed at him to stop him from getting at Robin, but he was too fast. Clutching to the side of the wreckage, he stabbed through the water.
“No, no, leave him alone!” She wriggled through the railings to stop him.
He pinned her with a glare. “Stay back!” And then he dove in after Robin with his knife. The water bubbled and she saw his elbow shoot through the surface, and then Robin’s hair while the two struggled, before they both sank out of sight.
They emerged further along the creek, and she shrieked out and quickly backtracked to the bank so she could race after them. Their heads bobbed over the current as it carried them along. Little John grabbed Robin around the neck and the two floated to the shore while Marian shouted bloody murder.
Little John heaved Robin out of the water, where he did a face-plant into the loose dirt. It clung to them both as he pounded Robin’s stomach. A closer look gave away that he was performing lifesaving procedures to get the water out of Robin’s lungs. Robin turned with a choke and coughed it all out onto the rocks and dirt. Had Little John been helping Robin all along? She turned an accusing eye on him. “What was with the knife?” she shouted.
“He was caught in the branches. I had to cut him out.”
A little explanation would’ve been helpful! She pulled closer and helped Robin out of the dirt, getting it all over his white shirt as well as her new spring outfit as he fought to breathe. The water from the lake glistened over Little John’s dark skin and hair, and he wiped it back. They were all a mess.
“That bridge is old and dangerous,” Little John said. “No one crosses that.”
“But there was ribbon down there, and bells,” Marian said. “Who would do that?” Little John looked blank and she explained. “We’re looking for the maypole… for a game, and it’s covered in ribbons and bells.”
“A game?” Little John scorned the idea, even though he’d be familiar with it since he’d been a family friend his whole life.
“You’re so above it?” she argued. Maybe she was a bit hysterical, but his sneering on top of everything else got to her.
“There aren’t bells on maypoles,” Robin choked out.
“But…” that distracted her from John’s scoffs. “Guy said…”
