An Afternoon with Much
The lads were exuberant when they arrived back later that day after their defeat of the Sheriff and his men at Locksley. Much was grinning from ear to ear as he bounced back into camp ahead of the others, only to start with shock at the hooded figure stood waiting for him. He immediately drew his sword and shield, only to hear laughter as Djaq emerged from behind the rock face, holding her stomach in mirth. The figure lowered it's hood to reveal Roana, dressed in trousers and a tunic underneath the hooded cloak, all in the colours of the forest.
"Hello, Much," she said, sweetly. "Did you not recognise me?"
Much looked her up and down, aghast. "My lady, I could have killed you. And why are you dressed as a man?"
The girls started to laugh again as the rest of the gang joined them. They seemed surprised at Roana's new attire, yet Robin nodded in approval.
"Good work," he said. "You needed something more appropriate, now that you are our hostage."
"I'm your what?" Roana exclaimed, pulling off the cloak and tossing it onto her bed.
Robin quickly explained how they had encountered William at Locksley, and threatened him with Roana's life if the Sheriff continued to harm the villagers.
"It seemed to work," he concluded. "For now, anyway."
"They have left the village?" Djaq asked.
"Oh, yes," Robin replied with a grin. He looked at Allan, who, tearing his eyes away from Roana's shapely legs in the figure-hugging trousers, affected a pompous tone. "They were outraged."
The men laughed, clearly happy with themselves and their morning's work.
"Now, food," Little John said, looking at Much.
"Why is it always down to me?" Much spoke up, indignantly. "I've been busy too this morning. Somebody else should cook for a change."
"Nobody else can cook," Will pointed out, mildly.
"Hmm," Much retorted, glaring at Djaq, who shrugged and laughed.
"Your English palettes would not be able to handle my people's food."
"Well, somebody else should at least try," Much said, dramatically.
Allan punched him lightly on the shoulder, good-naturedly. "Cooking is a woman's job. Now shut up and make us some food."
The men laughed, bawdily, and Much sniffed at them and turned away, muttering to himself.
"I'll help, Much," Roana said, crossing over to lay a hand on his arm. He looked at her, surprised.
"My lady, no! I can cope."
"It's Roana, Much," she told him, firmly. "And I don't mind. I've picked up some knowledge along the way."
What she didn't mention was that her scant knowledge had been gleaned from afternoons spent playing in the kitchen at Filey Hall with the cook's daughter, Mabel, rather than any real culinary experience. But, how hard could it be? And Much was grateful, which was all that mattered.
Much looked at Robin, who smiled and shrugged his acquiescence. He turned back to Roana and grinned, widely.
"Okay, my— Roana. Thank you."
******
"... and then there was the day that I caught three rabbits in one trap. Well, I say three rabbits, but one of them was actually a rat, which obviously wasn't as big as the rabbits. But I cooked it up the same and nobody knew any difference. Rat meat actually tastes like chicken. Did you know that?"
Much had been talking constantly since he and Roana had left the camp to check his traps. In fact, he had been talking almost constantly since she had agreed to help with the cooking earlier that day, and there was no sign of him letting up.
Idly, Roana wondered if it was a nervous trait. Either way, she was happy to let him talk.
They were walking along one of the old, largely abandoned farmers tracks through the forest, a route that was often used by the outlaws to avoid detection by the Sheriff's men. The trees towered tall and abundant above them, creating a leafy canopy over their heads. Nevertheless, the afternoon sun glanced through the branches, casting patterns of light on the track before them.
With one ear on Much's chatter, Roana wasn't sure at first if she had heard the surreptitious noise behind them, a stealthy movement in the bushes at the side of the track. She faded Much out and listened. There it was again!
Carefully, she reached out a hand to touch Much's arm. He stopped talking straight away and looked at her; Roana put a finger to her lips and then indicated to their right with a jerk of her thumb.
There was a pause as they both listened, before Much began talking again, this time haltingly.
"I could probably cook up just about anything I caught in the forest; deer, birds, a fox. I've always wondered what fox would taste like.."
Casually, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it into his bow, ready to take aim.
Preoccupied as they were paying attention to the bushes on the right hand side of the trail, they didn't notice Allan as he doubled back and came out onto the track behind them, approaching them, this time, from the left.
"Need a hand?"
"By God's bones!" Roana yelped, whipping round and clutching her chest. Much fired an arrow into the ground in shock. Allan found it all hilarious.
"Allan!" The relief was evident in Much's voice, along with a grain of anger. "What are you doing here?"
Allan shrugged, his arms outstretched. "I came to help."
Much snorted as he tugged his arrow from the dirt and shoved it back into his quiver. "We don't need your help. You can go back to the camp."
"I'm here now!" Allan protested. "An extra pair of hands and all that." He grinned, winningly. Despite herself, Roana smiled back.
"He might as well stay, now he's here."
"Well, okay," Much said, begrudgingly, and pointed his finger at Allan. "As long as you be quiet."
He started off again along the track and Allan raised his eyebrows in astonishment at Roana, who stifled a laugh. They fell into step with each other as they followed Much.
"So, he's showing you all of his tricks, is he?" Allan said, conversationally. "How he catches squirrels and stuff."
In front of them, Much raised his arms in exasperation before letting them drop to his sides. "How many times! Once, I caught a squirrel. Just the once! Yet, you lot won't shut up about it." He swivelled round to look Allan in the eye. "Didn't stop you from eating it, though, did it?"
Allan shrugged. "Tasted like chicken."
Much laughed, squabble forgotten. "It did, didn't it?"
There was a glimpse of movement on the track far ahead, and, next minute, Allan had grabbed Roana's arm and dragged her after Much into the dense forest. They hunkered down, falling quiet.
In the silence that followed, Roana realised she was holding her breath and forced herself to exhale, slowly. She was hyper aware of Allen's hand, which still curled around her arm, and his own measured breathing, close to her ear. It somehow made her feel comforted, so that, when the guard on horseback came into sight, she wasn't as startled as she had expected she would be.
At first glimpse, he seemed to be alone, but, before long, there came the soft thud of hooves as a small convoy of five additional guards joined him. They stopped adjacent to the bush Roana, Allan, and Much were hidden under, and began to quietly converse.
Although she strained to hear, Roana could only catch faint scraps of words, and she attempted to shuffle closer. Leaves scrunched underfoot and Allan tightened his grip on her arm. She glanced
at him, apologetically, then looked at Much. He met her gaze and gave an imperceptible nod, then disappeared further into the bush, moving silently.
"Much!" she hissed after him. "Where are you going?"
"Ssh," Allan said, warningly.
Back on the track, the guards were looking around at the surrounding greenwood and appeared to be strategising their next move. One of them, who seemed to be in charge, began issuing orders, urging each guard to proceed on foot so they could explore the woodland.
"The horses will hold us up in such dense flora," he said, self-importantly. "We have a better chance of finding her on foot, and taking her back to Sir William."
With a jolt, Roana realised they were looking for her. Fortunately, they were not close enough to the camp to be of any real danger, but guards loose in the forest was never an ideal situation.
Slowly, she drew her hood up and glanced around for Much. They needed to make a getaway, but he had vanished.
"We need to leave," Allan whispered, but Roana shook her head.
"Not without Much," she hissed. "Where has he gone?"
There came the sound of tuneless whistling on the track behind the guards, and the convoy wheeled around as one.
"You there!" shouted the guard who was in charge. "Don't move. We want to talk to you."
"You want to talk to me?" came the querulous reply. Allan cursed under his breath, recognising the voice immediately.
"What is he doing?"
As the guards retraced their tracks to confront the newcomer, Roana rose to get a better view. It was Much, stood innocently on the track with two rabbit carcasses dangling in his grasp. What was he doing? Surely he realised he was in danger.
"Who are you?" the head guard demanded to know, imperiously, as they reached Much and surrounded him.
"Who, me?" Much affected a guileless look. "I am... Allan of Clun, my Lord."
Beside Roana, Allan rolled his eyes in exasperation, then quickly followed Roana as she began to move closer, picking her way carefully through the bushes.
"Well, Allan, you are far from home, are you not?" The guard asked. Much shrugged as the guards narrowed gaze fell to the rabbit carcasses. "And I see you have been poaching from the king's land."
Much began to speak and then looked at the rabbits in his hand, as if realising he had been caught. He met the guards stare with an guilty grin before he swung around and began to run back up the track, heading away from Roana and Allan.
"Get him!" the guard yelled, and they surged into action, urging their horses after Much.