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"Come and you are welcome, pilgrim," Cedric said. "As welcome as the news you brought us of your journeys and the sights that you have seen. I find myself sore in need of some diversion on this night."

"It came to pass, just as you said it would," said de la Croix. "Maurice De Bracy was granted the Barony of Ivanhoe by Prince John and the Templar swore to meet with Sir Wilfred when and if he should return to England. I sat in wonder, watching as all came to pass as you predicted."

"Did you doubt me?" Irving said.

As they spoke, Andre was removing her armor, changing one suit for another. Irving was dressed in a black cloak, barely visible in the night where they stood among the trees.

"If I did, I shall not doubt you again," said Andre. "Perhaps, when this is over, you will predict my future. Or, better yet, do not. I am not sure I wish to know."

"I can safely predict that your future will be dim if you fail me tonight," said Irving.

"I will not fail if these men know their work." She glanced at the group of men who stood off at a distance, talking quietly among themselves. They were all equipped with daggers and longbows and dressed in suits of lincoln green.

"They are the pick of Sir Guy's men at arms," said Goldblum. "They will not fail you. Now turn around. Let's have a look at you."

Andre complied, standing erect and turning for his inspection. She was dressed in gold and carrying a shield with a flaming sword upon it.

"Excellent," said Irving. "No one will know you from De Bracy. Tonight's escapade will prove more than the local Saxons can bear. When Normans, aided by the outlaws, start attacking them and carrying off their women, they will eagerly rally to my cause when I come to rescue them from such oppression. You know what is to be done. Now mount up and ride. The Saxons have a fair head start."

7

The miserable Will Scarlet arrived back at camp hung from a pole as though the victim of a hunt. Finn ordered his two companions, Oswald and Ian, to carry him around the camp three times, which they did to the delight of the other merry men, who greeted Scarlet with hoots of derision and pelted him with sticks.

The camp itself was primitive in the extreme. Built around an ancient oak, in which was built a tiny wooden platform for one man to keep watch, the camp was situated in a grassy clearing and surrounded on all sides by thick undergrowth. The merry men lived a carefree and slovenly existence in small, poorly constructed wooden huts covered with thatch. There was one large pit dug for a cooking fire and several smaller ones, these being uncomfortably close to the highly combustible dwellings. From one of these haphazardly built shelters came a short and heavy curtal friar, a man almost as wide as he was tall. His cassock was coarse and filthy and what little hair he had was matted to his head as though plastered down by water. The friar waddled up to them and both Finn and Bobby became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was sweating profusely. His perspiration had an overpowering smell of garlic to it.

"John! Robin! What were you thinking of? Disappearing like that for days on end and then entering a Norman tournament! Marion was furious when she found out!"

"So?" said Finn.

"So? So she'll flay you two alive, that's what's so!" said Tuck. "You had best hope her hunt's successful. If she comes home without her meat, she'll be in an evil humor."

"Whether she comes home with venison or not," said Finn, "Marion will find that there have been some changes made."

"Changes? What changes?"

Bobby put his arm around Friar Tuck's shoulders, doing his best to ignore the odor. "The time has come for us to change, Tuck," he said. "I have given it much thought. This going off on drunken binges and stumbling through the forest and falling in the brambles ill serves our cause. We saw the exercises put on by the Normans and from my days at Locksley Hall, I still recall some of the teachings of the drillmaster to our men at arms. John and I have devised some methods whereby we might all become the more efficient at the plying of our trade. We must begin to work immediately."

"Work?" said the friar. "Did he say work? Have you gone mad?" He turned from one to the other. "Has he gone mad?"

"More to the point, good friar, we have both gone sane," said Bobby.

"And what of Marion?"

"Yes, and what of Marion?" said a new voice and Finn and Bobby turned to see a small party entering the camp, two of them carrying an eight-pointer on a pole. In the vanguard of this group was a young woman dressed in lincoln green. She was perhaps nineteen or twenty years old with her dark blonde hair worn uncharacteristically short for a woman of the time. She looked like a Saxon peasant youth and only her distinctly feminine figure gave the lie to that impression. She wore two long daggers at her waist and carried a longbow in her hand, even though she looked hardly strong enough to string it.

"Godfrey, Neville, see to that stag," she said. "And as for you two springals, where the devil have you been?"

"John and I had thought to go to Ashby to watch the Normans flail at each other," Bobby said. "It seemed good for some amusement. On our way, we both became quite paralyzed with drink and, to our misfortune, we ran across some of the sheriff's men. We both barely escaped with our lives. It was a sobering experience. So sobering, in fact, that we came to the conclusion that we must bring to an end our dissolute existence. We both lay in the forest, shaking and sweating as we struggled with our demons and, at long last, the crystal clarity of true sobriety returned to us. And, with my sobriety returned, so were my long lost skills at archery, as you have doubtless heard by now."

"Do you mean to tell me that it's true that you split Hubert's shaft and won the tournament?" said Marion.

"It is the very truth," said Bobby. "And if I, who have always been the most dissolute amongst us, have so benefitted by my new abstemiousness, think what the rest of the merry men could do if kept from drink and given some direction. Why, we would be the very terror of the forests!"

"We are the terror of the forests!" protested Tuck.

"The only terror that we cause, good Tuck," said Bobby, "is in the rabbits and the woodcocks whose poor ears are assailed by our noise of drunken revelry. As for the gentry hereabouts, the only terror which we cause them results from fear that they might die of laughing at our bumbling prowess."

"If you were as abstemious of words as you claim to have become of drink, then I would be impressed, indeed," said Marion. "But that would be asking for the moon, no doubt. Hold out your hands."

Bobby held his hands out before him.

"They appear steady enough," said Marion, dubiously. "But I have heard this claim of temperance many times before. How long will it last this time? One day? One hour?"

"Well, wait and see," said Bobby.

Marion made a wry face. "You'll never change. You'll ever work your mouth far better than you shoot a bow. You, John, and that other wastrel, Alan-a-dale. Forever drinking yourselves blind and making up those absurd songs about yourselves. 'Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen,' my buttocks! You've got half the shire singing that drivel and believing it, as well. You forget that I know better. Singing and carousing were all you were ever good at." She chuckled. "That, and perhaps another thing or two, besides."

"Marion!" said Bobby, with a great show of indignation. "I have had a most profound experience! How can you doubt me?"

"I am to believe you split a shaft of Hubert's? Prince John's finest archer?"

"But some of the men saw it! Did they not tell you?"

"Oh, they'll say anything to please you and you know it. Am I also to believe that you had a confrontation with my husband's men and came away to speak of it?"