The Hooded Man

Maid Marion ventures into Sherwood forest to meet The Hooded Man. After hearing of his courage and compassion, she believes he is the only man she can wed.

Lady Marion of Nottingham gazed around the clearing, admiring its ancient oaks resplendent in their emerald foliage and listening to the bubbling of the sparkling spring. She turned to Friar Tuck. “How canst this be the famous outlaw's lair? This hidden glen be most extremely fair.”

The elderly friar smiled. “The Hooded Man be not like other thieves. He chose to live among the greenest leaves.”

She frowned at the balding man, who more resembled a footpad than a respected man of the cloth. Could he truly be trusted? But then, it was too late to back out now. She stepped across the springy turf and turned in a full circle. “And where be all the gold and other things, he stole from noblemen, like coins and rings?”

“The Hooded Man hath gave them to the low, so they can eat their fill, not suffer woe.”

“And art thou sure this outlaw trusty be?”

“By Mother Mary, so I swear to thee.”

Marion sat upon a mossy log and admired a wild rose. “Where fragrant flower blooms by mighty tree, forsooth this glade as fair as Heaven be.”

The undergrowth rustled. A giant man appeared, wearing a hood that hid his face. His green and brown cape blended into the surrounding forest. This could only be the Hooded Man.

“Welcome, good priest, but who be this with thee?”

“A noble maid who hath a boon to plea.”

Trembling, Marion rose and curtsied. “P-prithee, kind sir, to listen to my words.”

The Hooded Man lifted his shadowed chin. “I'm sure they're sweeter than the song of birds.”

She lowered her head, feigning shyness as a lady should. “'Tis said thy arrows slew the Sheriff's rogues and made the Prince's lackeys hop like toads.”

“Those acts of crime and more be mine, 'tis true.” The Hooded man gazed into her eyes. “Methinks thou comst to speak of matters new.”

Marion mouthed a silent prayer, then knelt. “I swore an oath to Father, Son, and Ghost, to wed no other man but thee, mine host.”

Folks claimed the Hooded Man's countenance was so terrifying that he must hide his face to allay their dread, but Marion didn't care how ugly he proved to be. After years of sycophantic, silk-wearing suitors, she'd determined to marry a man with a beautiful soul. An outlaw who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor fitted the bill.

The Hooded Man gasped. “This boon thou askst be harder than thou thinkst. 'Tis not like breaking bread or supping drinks.”

Her cheeks blazed. Was she not good enough? “Lord knows I be not Aphrodite's kin, but I'd do aught, my love, thy heart to win.”

“Forsooth mine heart be thine without a doubt, but there be laws of Church I dare not flout. For secrets dark I hide beneath my hood, and that be why I'm living in Sherwood.”

He lowered his hood.

Marion's jaw dropped. The towering figure was not the ruffian of her expectation. She was a golden-haired goddess, like a towering statue of Athena crafted from the finest marble. A powerful deity the Ancients worshiped and adored.

“Thou art no man, but maiden through and through!”

“It be my secret, known to but a few.” The Hooded Woman stepped closer and offered Marion her hand. “Pray stand, sweet maid. I'd not have thee debased.”

“Thankee, kind maid, but I feel no disgrace.” Marion took the offered hand and stood.

“Forsooth, if man I were I'd marry thee as if thou wert a bud and me a bee. Thine almond eyes like sparkling sapphires shine. I'd rather taste thy rosy lips than wine.”

Marion glanced away, heart pounding and cheeks glowing. “Thy lovely words be more than I deserve, and thee a comely wench, so I observe.”

“How now, thou thinkst me comely? Pray, don't mock,” said the Hooded Woman with obvious shock. “Most men compare my likeness to a rock.”

“Hast thou my courtly suitors ever seen?” Marion mimed stabbing herself. “I'd rather take a knife and spill my spleen.”

“But such a loss of life would be a waste. Prithee, stay calm and do not act in haste.”

“Thou art most kind, sweet maid with chiseled chin.” Marion fluttered her eyelashes. “What be the name of she who makes me grin?”

“The folks here call me Robyn in the Hood, but name me Rob, thou wilt be understood.”

Looking into Rob's hazel eyes, Marion realized she'd found the face she wanted to see when she woke in the morning and lay down her head at night for the rest of her life. She reached out and gently caressed Rob's cheeks. “Forsooth, I would with thee live like a wife, and bide with thee to share thy way of life.”

Friar Tuck coughed. “Methinks the Church of what thou sayst knows naught, but call on me the day thou tiest the knot.”

He winked and then plodded away into the trees, leaving the two maidens of Sherwood Forest to plan their fairytale happily ever after.”

By Robert Baker

theromancebloke.com

Twitter: @TheRomanceBloke

Robert Baker is a book blogger specializing in romance novels. He runs “The Romance Bloke” book blog website. He is also passionate about creative writing. You will frequently find him hanging out on Writing.Com with other wannabe authors. Robert works as a freelance content writer. He enjoys traveling with his family and horseback riding. He is a member of the judging panel for the Book Bloggers’ Novel of the Year Awards 2021.