Free A Hoboken Hipster In Sherwood Forest by Mari AKA Marianne Mancusi Page A

harp. "I always sing about it.
     
    There once was a man named Robin,
    Whose skill with a bow made grown men go sobbin'.
    He'd hit a bullseye from a mile away
    And then go find a woman to—"
        
    "Anyway..." I interrupt, glancing at the wide-eyed Much Jr. "A bit TMI, but I get the point. Robin's an ace with a bow. You guys rock in the forest. So there you go. Use your resources. When the kings' men raid the villages, taking your families' money, steal the money back!"
    "Aye!" The men cheer, raising their cups of mead, their eyes shining in the firelight. I smile. Cool! They're totally on board. Little old Chrissie's somehow succeeded in stirring these legendary men into action. I'm so good! Maybe when I go back to the 21st century I could become a motivational speaker or something. Eat your heart out, Tony Robbins.
    "If we steal the money, how, pray tell, are we any different than the sheriff himself?" Robin asks pointedly, after the initial cheers subside. He's apparently the only skeptical one left in the bunch. Figures. But luckily I've got an answer.
    "Because you give it back!" I say triumphantly. "All the money you steal from the rich, you shower on the poor. You'll be heroes. Legendary. They'll sing songs about your good deeds for centuries to come. The renowned Robin Hood and his merry men."
    More cheers and catcalls, drowning out Robin's next round of protest. He looks seriously annoyed.
    "Hey, Friar! We'd be even merrier if you would not be so stingy with the mead," notes Much the Miller, staring into his empty cup.
    The man of God pauses mid-slurp, then raises his own mug into the air. "The Good Lord giveth and the Good Lord taketh away!" he cries. "So we'd be doing the Good Lord's work." He belches loudly and laughs and passes his cup to the man on his right, then proceeds to fill another, passing it along.
    "Here's to Christian!" says Will Scarlet, raising his own mug. "And his plan to defeat the evil Sheriff of Nottingham!"
    "To Christian!" the men chorus, raising their cups and downing their brew.
    "This inspires me to song," Allan a Dale threatens.
     
    "Good Christian came to Sherwood land,
    His ideas 'twere sharp, though he 'twas not quite man.
    He suggested we go and rob from the rich.
    If only I didn't have that pesky groin—"
         
    "Stop. Stop all this nonsense at once!" Robin cries, suddenly scrambling to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. "This talk is madness.'' He paces toward the waning fire and back again, then turns to face his men. "When I found you lot, you were a sorry sight to be had. Starving, outlawed, nothing to call your own. I brought you here to this haven and we made a life for ourselves. We may not be rich, we may still be outlaws, but we have fresh meat every night and no longer fear for our lives at every turn." He places his hands on his hips and scans the crowd. "Do you really wish to abandon everything we've worked for just because a stranger suggests it? It sounds a grand plan, to be sure, but is any one of you willing to die like that? To risk all we've gained?"
    "You may be safe and sound here, Robin," I say, furious that he's undermining me again. Selfish bastard. "But what about these men's wives? Their children? Heck, what about their father's brother's nephew's cousin's former roommates?" (Yes, I've seen Space-balls three too many times.) "They're starving. Dying. And we have a means to stop that. How can you just sit back and not do anything?"
    Robin shakes his head. "The church has sheltered you from reality, young Christian. You do not know what the Sheriff is capable of. He will hang every man here, and their limp bodies and broken necks will not slacken his appetite for the morning meal."
    "But—"
    "I will hear no more of this," Robin says. "You have disrespected me once, pleading for the woman. And you nearly made me lose my own neck by defending the Miller's son earlier this day. You are lucky I do not throw you out of the forest or deliver you to the