Sherwood Farewell ... A Robin of Sherwood story by Jacquie Groom

'Deo Gratias'

Her head bowed, the tall, slender nun entered the Abbess' bleak office. 'Benedicte, Mother,' she said softly, bending low to kiss her superior's hand.

'Sister Marion,' the Lady Abbess acknowledged. 'You are looking well.'

Marion raised her eyes. 'I have been helping Sister Matilda in the herb garden,' she said, tucking her soiled hands further into her wide sleeves.

'And you enjoy that work ?'

'Yes, I do,' she answered with a faint smile. 'I like being - ,' she bit her lip, searching for the right words. '- close to the land.  It comforts me.'

The Abbess lifted her eyebrows. 'You should find all the comfort you need from the Lord, Sister Marion.'

'Oh, I do,' the tall nun hastened to correct her slip. 'I have found such peace since coming here, Mother.'

'I am glad.  Now,'  The Abbess stood up, and turned away from Marion. 'Now I have a new challenge for you.  You have heard that Dame Innocentia is to go to Dunmow as Prioress ?'

Marion nodded.

'She has asked for you to accompany her as Infirmarian.  Also to help establish a herb garden, similar to the one we have here.  I have decided to agree to her request. '  She smiled at Marion. 'You leave on Monday, Sister.  You may consult with Sister Matilda during recreation as to which herbs should be taken.  I believe you can make a selection from the preparations in the Infirmary by yourself ?'

'Yes, Mother.'  Marion sounded breathless. Her mind a turmoil, she realised she had to say something.  'Is Sister Veronica to take my place in the Infirmary ?'

The Lady Abbess sat down once more. 'I have not yet decided.  She is very young.'

'But very skilled.'  Veronica, with her sunny smiles and cheerful humming, made life very pleasant in the Halstead Infirmary. 'Oh, I'll miss her,' Marion thought, as she bowed to her Mother Superior and quietly left the room.

As soon as she shut the heavy oaken door, Marion realised she was shaking.  A flood of emotions swept over her; feelings so intense she had to lean against the cool, stone wall.  Pride, first. 'Dame Innocentia asked for me ! Me ! In spite of my background, in spite of everything.'  But then despair. 'I shall have to leave Sherwood.'

There was no question of refusing.  Obedience was one of the tenets of her new life - complete, unquestioning obedience.  It had been so hard to learn, those first days as a novice.  True, she had been accustomed to following Robin, and later, Robert; accepting their authority, trusting them as leader.  But never with the degree of obediance demanded by the church.  'Why ?' she had asked incessantly, once the despair of her first weeks had past, and her noviciate had begun in ernest.  'Why now ? Why me ? Why this way, and not that ?' She was used to questioning decisions, to the good-natured arguing amongst the outlaws, to following her own initiative.  Obedience had been difficult.  But slowly, it had come.  Effacing herself, her ideas, her thoughts.  Moulding herself into what God and the Abbess wanted her to be.  She obeyed.

But this ? In spite of the warm day, she shivered, and wrapped her habit closer round her.  Stepping out into the garden, she saw Sister Matilda looking at her, a compassionate smile on her thin lips. 'She knows,'  Marion thought. 'They must all know.  And pity me.'

Of all things, Marion would not be pitied.  Fixing a smile on her face, she inwardly blessed the institution of Silence, and picked up her trowl.

At least her precious plants would go with her to Dunmow.

Standing by the narrow window, Marion stared out into the Forest.  It was twilight;  That time at which all seemed bathed in a special, soft light.  Behind her, on the bed, lay a rough bag, packed with her few possesions.   In the garden, the box with the carefully chosen plants stood, waiting for morning and the placid horse that would transport it Southwards.

Marion sighed.  The last few days had not been easy.  There were few nuns who did not know her ties to Sherwood, of her days spent as an outlaw in the band of Robin Hood.  Some looked at her sympathetically, as if realising how this move would sever every remaining tie.  But others had glints in their eyes; not everyone approved of Marion of Sherwood, nor totally believed in her conversion to the One and Only Church.  'If I didn't know Dame Innocentia had asked for me in person,' she had confided to Sister Veronica as they sorted out medical supplies for the journey, 'I would think they were sending me away on purpose.'  But Dame Innocentia had asked for her;  had even come to see her during Recreation, to tell her of the new Priory and what she would find there. 'They need someone skilled at bee-keeping,' she had said. 'I remembered your interest, even if there was no opportunity for persuing it here.'  There had been a twinkle in the nun's eye, and Marion warmed to her. She barely knew the nun who was to be her new Prioress, although she heard her clear voice in Chapel every day.  But ever since it had been whispered that she was to become Prioress of Dunmow, there had been endless talk and speculation about her. Even in a convent, there was gossip. 'It might be good,' Marion had thought. 'To be away from so many memories.  To be free.  To have a superior who likes me, who was not part of ..' She broke off, unwilling to face the memories of those dark, desperate days during the Time of the Wolf.

 Marion looked out once more over the forest.  She had spent many an hour at this window over the years.  Just staring at the trees, trying to see beyond the leaves, beyond the branches.  Now and then she had imagined she caught sight of a patch of gold, a darting figure, the glint of a sword.  A tiny glimspe that would make her heart miss a beat and her stomach leap.   A tiny pin-prick of longing, of sadness, of nostalgia for days gone by.  And then the sun would pass behind a cloud, and the forest would revert to greens and browns, and her mind would be still.

'I shall never see Sherwood again !'  The words echoed round her mind.  'Never ! Never.'  Her sudden certainty scared her;  the word seemed to synchronise with the beating of her heart. 'Never.  Never.'  Suddenly it all seemed too much to bear : she had to get out.  To touch the forest, to breathe in its smells, to be a part of it once more.  Wrapping a cloak around her against the clear, chilly night, she slipped out of the convent buildings, and scrambled over the wall.  And then, like a shadow, she merged into the undergrowth.

Home ! It was all she had longed for, those long, sleepless nights, when even a nun's  hard pallet had seemed too soft after the forest floor, and the walls too close for one accustomed to sleeping under the stars.  Oh, those early days, when all had been strange, even the fact of being with women all the time, she who had grown used to living with men.

Breathing deeply the scent of the rapidly cooling forest, she ran through the trees, flitting down  the faint tracks like a large, black moth.

Until she found the campsite.

She had not meant to look for them.  It had been far from her mind; Sherwood was large; that they should be so close had never occurred to her.  She stood there, as immobile as the trees around her, staring at the shadowy figures clustered round the dying embers of a fire.

No one was on watch.  A faint smile on her lips, Marion spied Much, perched on a rough platform in a tree, fast asleep.  Perhaps life was less hazardous at the moment for the Outlaws.

She knew she should go.  Leave them alone, turn back towards the Abbey.  But she found she could not turn away.  To see his face ... on tiptoes, trying not to disturb the smallest twig, she moved round the clearing, until she could see his face in the red glow of the fire. 

Robert of Huntingdon.  Robin i' the Hood.  His blond hair shone like gold in the firelight; his face was quiet and thoughtful. 

He looked older.  More serious.  He was staring into the flames, and his eyes looked tired.  Marion felt her heart go out to him; he seemed to have lost all his youthful exhuberence.  Sometime over the last five years, he had grown up.   She could not help mourning the disappearance of the boy she had known, especially knowing she was at least partly to blame.

Hidden in the undergrowth, Marion watched, fascinated, as Little John passed round a flagon.  But when it reached Robin, he shook his head and got up.  With a wave of the hand, he disappeared into the trees.

As if pulled by a magnet, Marion followed.  Pulling her cloak closer, for the night was chilly now, she made her way through the dense thicket until she emerged by a pool.

The moon was shining on the water; sending silver ripples over the surface.  And there, immobile, stood Robert of Huntingdon, staring out into the night sky.

'What are you searching for ?'  she asked in her clear voice.

Robert jumped.  He turned round, and saw the dark figure in the shadows. 'Marion ?' he whispered, disbelievingly.

'Yes, it's me,' she said, stepping into the moonlight. 'What were you searching for ? You looked so serious.'

'I was just wondering if you looked at the stars, from behind your convent walls,' he said, not taking his eyes off her for even a moment, as if he was afraid she would disappear again. 'Am I dreaming ? Are you really here ?'

'Yes, Robin,' Marion said, reaching out to take his hand. 'I came - I came to say goodbye.'

'I thought you said that years ago,' the fair-haired man replied, taking his hand out of hers..

 The bitterness in his tone cut Marion to the core.  She shook her head. 'Not just to you.  To Sherwood.  I'm leaving.'

'Leaving the Convent ?' Robert took a step towards her.

She shook her head, hating to dash his hopes once more. 'They're sending me away.  To Dunmow.  Our new foundation.  The Prioress asked for me in person.'  She could not hide the faint pride in her voice.

'And you came here to tell me that ?'

Marion turned away, consious of the warmth in her cheeks. 'I suddenly realised I would never see you, or any of the others, again.  There'd be no point in looking out of the window, even if they do have forests near the new convent.'

'So you did look ?'  Robert gently took her by the shoulders, and turned her round to face him. 'Did you really look for us ?'

The tall nun nodded. 'Many a night.'

He smiled. 'I'm glad.  Not a night has gone by when I haven't thought of you.'

'Nor I of you,' she admitted. 'But - it was the right decision, Robert.'

'I know,' he said in a low, low voice. 'I know now.  There were too many memories.'  He sighed, then appeared to straighten, as if girding himself against pain. 'You are happy, then ? You found the peace you needed ?'

'Yes.'

'Then I'm glad.'  He leant forward, and gently kissed her on the cheek. 'Shall I get the others ? They would love to see you.'

But Marion shook her head. 'Better not,' she said after a moment. 'There is no point in upsetting things.  I belong in their past, now.'

'Not in their past,' Robert said softly. 'In their memories.  And in mine.'  He looked at her, tenderly, lovingly, as if he was trying to etch her face once more into his mind. 'Let me come with you,' he said suddenly. 'Just as far as Halstead.  May I ?'

And Marion, with a smile, agreed.

Her hand tucked through his arm, Marion felt almost girlish once more.  He felt warm and comforting by her side.  They walked through the moonlit woods, Marion revelling in the unaccustomed freedom.

And then, as they entered a small clearing,  the mist gathered in front of them.  'Herne,' Robert whispered, gripping Marion's hand. 

'My Son,' Herne said, emerging from the mist. 'And daughter.'

Marion dropped to her knees, her head bowed. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I'm sorry I denied you.'

'All Gods are one,' the Forest God replied. 'And we can all be Gods.  Remember that, my daughter.  And be content.'

  And then he was gone.

Marion stood in the clearing, shaking.  Hesitantly, Robert put his arms round her.

'I had forgotten his force,' Marion whispered into his shoulder. 'I have grown so accustomed to denying all other gods.  I thought I had put all this behind me.  What have I done, Robin? How can I go back, now ?'

Robert's heart leapt.  Perhaps, now, she would stay ? But his mind knew better.  Gently, he put her from him, and dried her eyes.  'It's not that bad,' he said quietly. 'You heard Herne's words.  When you worship God, you also worship him.  It's your life, Marion.  A life you chose, one you need and enjoy.  Go back, go to your new Priory.  Do your best, Marion, for your Sisters and any others you may help.  And,' he smiled tenderly, 'Now and again, think of us.'

Marion nodded through her tears. 'I will pray for you.'  Wiping her eyes on her cloak, she smiled up at Robert.  'Robin once said the spirits of those who were killed roamed free in Sherwood,' she said. 'I sometimes wonder whether he is still here, looking down at us.  And what he would think of me.'

'I think he would understand,' Robert said gently, taking her arm and steering her out of the clearing. 'I'm sure he would.'

The Abbey walls looked dark and forbidding. 'How will you get over ?' Robert said, staring upwards.

'I can't go through the gate,' Marion laughed. 'There would be such a scandal.'  She hooked her habit up round her knees, . 'Help me up ?'

He lifted her up. 'Marion -' he started, but Marion put a finger to his lips. 'Don't say it,' she said. 'I couldn't bear it.  Just go.'  Softly she ran a finger through his blond hair. 'Remember me, Robin.'

'Nothing's forgotten, Marion,' he said, as she slipped over the top of the thick wall. 'Nothing is ever forgotten.'

The morning dawned  bright and clear.   The outlaws, stretching and yawning around the campsite, could not fail to notice their leader's somber mood.

'Where'd you get to, last night ?' Scarlet demanded, rummaging round the fire for any remains of the night meal. 'Didn't get back till late, did you ?'

Robert shrugged. 'I was done by the pool.  Fell asleep.'

'Huh !' the ex-soldier looked dubious. 'You don't look as if you had much sleep.'

'Just leave it, Scarlet,' he said, heading out of the clearing once more. 'I'll be back later.  All right ?'

'S'pose so,' Will mumbled. 'Don't 'ave much choice in the matter, do I ?'

'No, you don't !' Robert yelled, as he disappeared into the undergrowth.

The small group of nuns, accompanied by guards provided by the church, made their way steadily along the Norwich road.  From his hiding place up a tree, Robert could see them clearly.  And, sure enough, Marion was there, her eyes lowered, her head bowed.  She looked every inch a nun, quite unlike the girl who had walked and talked with him just hours ago.  Like a greedy child, his heart screamed out for her, but his mind knew better.  Marion was at peace, and he must accept that. 'Fare well, Marion,' he whispered. 'Herne protect you.'

And as if she had heard, the nun lifted her head, and turned to glance into the undergrowth.  Her lips moved silently, and her eyes seemed to stare straight at him.

'I love you, Marion,' he whispered, tears welling in his blue grey eyes.

'And I love you.'  The words whispered in his ear, on the faint summer breeze.  He looked at her, but she was past him now, just one dark figure amongst a crowd.

'Will I ever see her again ?' Robert wondered out aloud.

The same airy voice replied. 'Just once, before you die.'

Robert jumped to the ground, and made his way back to the Outlaws campsite.

'You in a better mood now ?' Scarlet demanded as the blond man reappeared.

He nodded. 'Sorry I was so irritable,' he said, picking up a bowl from the fireside

'Wot was it all about ?'

'Nothing to worry about.  I just had some old business to take care of.'

'Finished now ?'

'Yes,' Robert smiled. 'All finished now.'  And somehow, he felt lighter, younger.  As if a weight had been lifted from his heart.  As if he was free. 'Come on,' he said, slapping Scarlet on the back. 'Let's go and get one of the King's Deer.  I fancy some venison for supper.'

With Sherwood Forest growing more and more distant with every step, Marion left her past behind.  Stepping out bravely towards her new beginning, she resisted the temptation to look behind her.  And so she did not see the shadowy figures which hovered in the mists at the edge of the forest.  A tall figure, with antlers, arms raised high.  And a second figure, even less substantial, with long dark hair blowing in the faint morning breeze.

Sherwood was bidding farewell to it's Maiden.