Winter had come to Sherwood Forest in the year 1198 A.D. A thick blanket of snow had covered the ground, and game was less plentiful because many of the animals were in hibernation. The extreme cold at night had forced Robin and his band to seek warmth and shelter in a large cave. What was curious about the cave was that only Warwick knew the way to its entrance. Robin and the other members of his band
Had thought they knew where everything was located in the greenwood. Robin could still recall the location of Herne’s cave. But this cave was large enough to accommodate all of them quite comfortably, and it was completely unknown to anyone. What was even a greater surprise was the large stack of firewood inside the cave. Warwick would not say who had collected the wood, nor would he say how he had known the way there. Marion asked no questions of Warwick because she sensed that this was, in some way, another wonder of the Horned God of the Forest. She had accepted Warwick as Herne’s continuous presence among them.
In the great hall of Nottingham Castle, the Sheriff of Nottingham sat in his ornate chair and looked into the face of a runaway soldier. It was Dickon, who had thrown off his armor and left for parts unknown. A massive search had been conducted to find this man and bring him back to Nottingham alive. Dickon believed that this was the day of his doom. However, the Sheriff had other ideas. He regarded this wretch as his secret weapon in eliminating Loxley’s protector, Warwick.
“ Sir Guy would have you flayed alive for desertion,” he said coldly. “But I will give you another chance…provided you do as I say!” he said ominously.
“How may I serve you, my lord?” Dickon said, trembling. It was then that the Sheriff told Dickon of his plan to do away with Warwick and, thereby, leave Loxley vulnerable.
“But I have failed once before,” Dickon said, recalling his fiasco on the road near Tuxford.
“Yes, but it is Christmas time, and he believes you long gone from these shires.” The Sheriff narrowed his eyes. “He will not suspect that you’ve returned to kill him!” Dickon was determined to do whatever was necessary in order to please the Sheriff. His very life depended on it!
In Tuxford, Friar Tuck was visiting the kindly farm couple who had adopted Nan, the daughter of the Nottingham baker. Rupert, the baker of Nottingham, would send to his only daughter his best wishes though the good friar. Nan longed for the company of her beloved Much. She had worked hard at the farm and practised her quarterstaff lessons daily. She was certain that her mentor Little John would indeed be proud of her progress. But most of all, she missed seeing Much. Their one special night together was vivid in her memory.
Nan had befriended a lovely woman named Jenna, a name that means “fair spirit”. All the men in Tuxford desired her, but none of them were able to capture her heart. She lived in a simple cottage just up the road and, rather than be alone, she quite often visited Nan. Nan told her tales of Robin and his band, especially Much, who was Robin’s foster brother and her sweetheart.
It was when she had mentioned Warwick, this man of mystery who had saved her life twice and seemed to have magical powers, that Jenna’s eyes lit up. She wanted so much to go to Sherwood and meet this man to find out if Nan words were true or not. Although Friar Tuck was reluctant to grant such wishes, he remembered it was the holiday season and perhaps there would be no harm in pleasing these two young women
this one time. He would obtain a hay cart and take them to Robin’s camp the following morning. That night, both women could hardly sleep, full of expectations about the adventure to come the following day.
All was as usual in Sherwood Forest the following morning. The men set out to find something to bring back for a meal. Marion stayed behind at the cave, tending the fire, with Much as her only company. She was not concerned, for only Warwick knew the way to the cave entrance, but before he had left she had boldly asked him, “Warwick…who are you?”
The hooded man looked at her with his dark eyes and said, “I am Herne’s eyes, his ears, his hands, and sometimes his voice.” Then he added, “Where I came from is not important…That I am here now is.” With those words he had left Marion knowing as little as she had known before.
Hunting was difficult for the men, but Little John had a knack for rousing a woodland creature from its burrow or hiding place to be felled by one of Nasir’s or Will’s arrows. Warwick knew just where to dig under the snow for edible roots and wild vegetables that could be found even in the deepest winter. He also knew which berries man could eat and which were intended for the winter birds flying overhead.
In Nottingham, ivy, mistletoe and holly hung on every door, and all the people were in the best of spirits for the holiday. The Sheriff of Nottingham had given his instructions to Dickon and had sent him off in ragged, peasant clothing so he would not draw attention to himself. He would find a simple mount outside the town and proceed to Sherwood to seek out Warwick and slay him. If he was not successful in his mission, the Sheriff would have him publicly hanged as a deserter. Once in Sherwood, Dickon would pretend to be a simple poacher trying to bring food back for his family. He wore a large, weather-beaten, floppy hat so that his face was less recognizable.
Friar Tuck and the two women were in a hay cart heading for Sherwood Forest. They were all bundled up against the cold and full of anticipation. Nan described Warwick to Jenna as best she could, but she could tell her nothing about his background, except that he had a special relationship with Herne, the Horned God. Jenna was fascinated by the man she had never met before. She hoped that she would not be disappointed should the man not be equal to the mystique Nan had conveyed in her stories. Nan was bubbling over with the thought of seeing her Much again. Her heart was filled with such anticipation and love for him. The fields and pastures were covered with snow, so the cows and other animals had to remain in their respective barns and pens to be fed hay and oats from the local farmers and cowherds. And, yet, there was a Christmas atmosphere in the air that was unmistakable. Nan did not fear for her safety because she was certain that her foe Dickon was nowhere near Sherwood. She had no idea how wrong she was in that assumption.
The Sheriff sat in his ornate chair, sipped wine and grinned evilly to himself. Dickon had been sent out to destroy Robin’s protector. He had entrusted this information to no one, not even his brother, Abbot Hugo. Gisburne would only insist on torturing and executing Dickon because he was a deserter. And, should Dickon fail to kill Warwick, he would be turned over to Gisburne to be put to death in a particularly grisly fashion anyway. If Dickon was successful, however, the Sheriff would allow the pathetic fool to live, provided he leave the shires never to return again. Christmas was going to be festive indeed with Loxley’s protector eliminated, followed by the demise of Loxley and his band of outlaws!
Friar Tuck and his traveling companions drove in the hay cart to the edge of Sherwood Forest and then proceeded on foot to Robin’s campsite. They would have to hurry because night was falling, and it would get much colder when the sun went down. What Friar Tuck could not know was that Robin and his band had moved to the cave that Warwick had shown them and that, except for Warwick, no one else knew the way to the cave.
Much was helping Marion in the cave, throwing more wood on the fire and reassuring her that the other men would be back soon. Much felt a strange feeling inside as if someone dear to him were near. He wondered if that someone could be Robin returning from the hunt, or possibly Nan? Then the men arrived with the food and preparations began for a satisfying meal for all. Marion had been weaving a wreath of fir branches, pinecones and other things from the forest to adorn the entrance to the cave. She put it aside to begin work with the food. Warwick had a strange look on his face, which didn’t escape Robin’s attention. “What is it?” he asked Warwick with a puzzled look.
“Strangers are in the forest.” Warwick declared.
“Gisburne and his soldiers?” Robin inquired, fearing the worst.
“No, but I sense their presence.” Warwick said. “They do not know of the cave…They are at the campsite and will freeze.” he said anxiously. “I must go get them!” And, with those words, he left the cave and backtracked to the campsite. Robin was concerned about the strangers and Warwick.
“Little John…go after him, please.” he pleaded.
“ Aye, that I will.” said Little John, picking up his quarterstaff and hurrying out of the cave.
Dickon was just entering Sherwood Forest while, elsewhere, Friar Tuck and the women came upon the remains of Robin’s campsite. It had been abandoned for days and, what was worse, there was no fire to warm them. With no firewood in sight, they were doomed to die of hypothermia. Friar Tuck found himself praying, not to God, but to Herne the Hunter for the first time. Both women looked at each other in despair. They did not fancy the idea of dying in the forest from the cold, and they were too tired to return to the hay cart outside the forest. Things looked grim indeed for all three of them. The two women hugged each other for comfort as well as for warmth.
Suddenly, a figure stood in front of them wearing a green hooded cloak and calling Nan by name. Nan immediately ran into Warwick’s arms and said, “I knew you would come for us.” Warwick then greeted Friar Tuck with a warm embrace.
“Thank God, or Herne…or whatever… for that matter!” the rotund friar exclaimed. Then Warwick’s eyes fell on Jenna. She was beautiful, with red curls, not unlike Much’s, only much longer. She wore a dark blue cloak and a simple gray homespun dress, and she had eyes that were as green as the sea. She knew that this had to be the mystery man that Nan spoke of. Warwick stared at her for a long time, but then realized that they would need a fire.
“Watch, Jenna!” Nan said excitedly, as if she knew what was about to occur. Warwick knelt down and took a handful of magic powder from his pouch. He sprinkled it upon the dead charred wood, waved his hands in a circular motion, and mumbled something under his breath. Friar Tuck was going to say how pointless it was to try to re-start a fire with used wood, when he saw one spark, and then another, as the fire re-kindled itself! In a matter of moments, a strong fire was burning, but Friar Tuck could not explain from where the flames were coming from! Being a man of the cloth, he had never believed in magic, but now he had witnessed it with his own startled eyes!
Dickon was making his way through the snow-covered forest. It was cold, but as long as he continued moving, he didn’t feel the cold so intensely. He could swear that he saw a light off in the distance, like that of a campfire. He tried to locate the source of that light as quickly as possible. Friar Tuck introduced Jenna to Warwick and asked where the others might be. Warwick explained about the cave and how they had better hurry on their way before the fire went out. Spontaneously Jenna offered him her hand and said, “Lead the way, and we will follow you.”
Nan and Friar Tuck helped each other up, and then the four of them left in the direction of the cave. Shortly after they were out of sight, Dickon arrived just in time to see the campfire die down. Instead of following their trail in the snow, he decided to build a new fire, which proved to be a time-consuming task. Ultimately, after much effort and a little luck as well, Dickon was successful. He had to keep the fire going until daybreak, and then find the trail in the snow that would lead him to his prey.
Halfway to the cave, Warwick recognized a large silhouette walking toward him. “Little John, I’ve brought your pupil back to you,” Warwick said. Little John then saw Nan and held out his staff in combat position. Nan smiled and then held up he own staff in response. Little John attacked, swinging his staff at Nan, but she countered every blow he struck. Finally he threw down his staff and grinned proudly. Nan dropped her staff and threw herself into his arms.
“Come to see us again, have you…or is it just Much you came to see?”
Nan beamed at her teacher. “Both!” she said delightedly.
Little John laughed and said, “Come then…it is cold out here!” As a group they followed Warwick, who had taken the lead, back to the cave.
Their unexpected arrival was like a Christmas present! Much took Nan into his arms and kissed her. While hugging Nan he asked Warwick, “Is this your doing?”
“No…mine!” said the stout friar.
Robin welcomed back Friar Tuck and asked, “Will you be staying long?”
“A few days at most…I must return the hay cart I borrowed.
Will chimed in, “Provided the horse doesn’t eat all the hay first!”
“That is true,” chuckled Friar Tuck.
Jenna’s eyes were glued on Warwick. He was everything Nan had said and more. Warwick found Jenna enchanting, but was wary of falling in love with her. He was supposed to serve Herne and not himself.
Marion greeted Nan like a lost sister and immediately asked in a low voice, “ Have you brought a sweetheart for Warwick?”
To which Nan responded, “You tell me, Marion.”
Nasir brought more wood for the fire and everyone settled down together to hear the latest news from Friar Tuck. Jenna seated herself next to Warwick and continued to make eye contact with him. Try as he might, Warwick could not bring himself to look away. Much played softly on Warwick’s wooden flute, and Little John sang the words to the tune softly. They all were like one great family warming themselves before a roaring fire. Robin looked at Marion and asked in a whisper, “How did he know they were at the campsite?”
Marion smiled and said, “Ask Warwick and you’ll get as many answers as I got…none.”
Later in the evening everyone in the band had gone to sleep, except Jenna, who was still at Warwick’s side. She wanted to get better acquainted with him. “Where are you from?” she asked him.
“Sherwood,” he answered.
“Always in Sherwood?” Warwick nodded his head solemnly. “If there was a time before Sherwood, I don’t remember it.”
“ Are you Herne’s other son?” Jenna asked innocently.
Warwick smiled and said, “ Robin is Herne’s only son…I am Herne’s instrument, used to protect him.”
“Will you protect me?” Jenna asked, snuggling up close to him.
“Stay close to me and you are safe,” he answered. Then they continued watching the dancing flames of the fire together. Because the cave was in such a secluded place, there was no need for anyone to stand watch.
In Nottingham Castle, the Sheriff also watched the flames of a roaring fire with his brother Hugo. His smug smile made Hugo wonder what deviltry his brother was up to this time. “What pleases you so this evening, brother?” he said with curiosity.
“Patience, Hugo…I will soon have a suitable Christmas gift to bestow upon you and all of England!” he said, snickering. Dickon would carry out his mission since he wanted to save his miserable hide. The Sheriff’s musing led to a most agreeable night of sleep for him.
The next morning, Friar Tuck awoke and immediately put more wood on the remains of the fire. He marveled at how industrious the band had been in collecting such an impressive stack of firewood. Nan was still sleeping in Much’s arms, as was Marion in Robin’s embrace. What surprised him was that Jenna was sleeping next to Warwick, with her head on his shoulder. So this was why she insisted on coming to Sherwood!
One by one, the members of the band awakened. Marion made a hot drink with some of the herbs and spices that Warwick had collected. Warwick brought a cup to Jenna. She found the drink had an unusual but refreshing taste. Marion noticed how attentive Warwick was toward Jenna and mentioned it to Nan. “It looks like ‘love’ to me,” Nan whispered.
Dickon had a less satisfactory night. He could never allow himself the luxury of a sound sleep because he had to keep his fire going all night. He took out the provisions the Sheriff had provided him with and ate a simple breakfast. He would concentrate on finding a trail to Loxley’s protector and do him in. Then he would leave Sherwood, return to the Sheriff with the deed done, and then lead a carefree life far away from Nottingham. Gisburne would never see him flayed alive or hanging from a noose.
Nasir, Little John and Warwick went fishing at the river. Nasir had a novel idea to catch fish without having to wade into the ice-cold water. He took a piece of twine, tied it to one of his arrows, and then took careful aim. When he saw movement in the water, he fired straight and true. Then he pulled the arrow out of the water with the twine. Speared by the arrow, and thrashing about, was a large salmon. Robin imitated Nasir’s trick and, in no time, they had enough fish for all to eat. Warwick praised the Saracen by saying, “You are indeed clever, my friend!” Nasir grinned at him proudly.
Then all three men came back to the cave with the fish. The three women went to work straightaway with the cleaning and preparation of the fish. Friar Tuck assisted them with the cooking chores. He cooked wild mushrooms, wild onions, and herbs to compliment the meal.
Jenna sought out Warwick’s company. “You are making a mistake becoming so attached to me,” he said softly.
Jenna reached up and stroked his rough cheek, saying, “I don’t think I am.” It was obvious that Jenna had fallen in love with the mysterious Warwick. Much was going to spend some time alone with Nan outside the cave, when they noticed Jenna with Warwick.
“I’m glad that he has somebody,” Nan said. “He deserves some happiness, after all he has done for us.” Much agreed and then lost himself in another kiss from Nan.
Dickon was having no luck finding Warwick or any of Robin’s men when, by chance, he saw someone: a red-haired beauty who was wearing a blue cloak. She was hanging up a homemade wreath over the entrance of a cave, an entrance he would have certainly missed had she not been standing in front of it. She struggled on tiptoes to hang the wreath properly when a man in a familiar green cloak came to her aid. Then he witnessed the woman showing her gratitude by kissing the man on the cheek. So…this red-headed wench is his woman, he thought to himself. Now he knew what he had to do to bait a trap for Warwick.
When Warwick was distracted by something else, Dickon saw his chance. He crept up to Jenna and grabbed her roughly. She let out a scream as Dickon put a dagger to her throat! Warwick came out of the cave to face Dickon. “Surrender to me at once or this wench dies before your eyes!” ordered Dickon.
Warwick tried to calm Dickon by saying, “Let her go. I am your prisoner.”
“No weapons, or I slit her throat!” Dickon said angrily. Warwick undid his belt and let dagger and sword fall to the ground. Then he carefully reached for his pouch to throw that down too. “Be quick about it…My patience wears thin!”
“So does mine!” Warwick shouted and he threw a handful of powder Dickon’s way. “Close you eyes!” he commanded to Jenna. She never saw what happened next.
Warwick waved his hands and said, “See no more, villain!” A flash of light and a cloud of black smoke enveloped Dickon. He let out a horrible scream, dropped the dagger, and let go of Jenna. Warwick pulled her out of harm’s way. When the black smoke dissipated, Dickon could no longer see. His eyes had gone from brown to the milky-whiteness of the blind!
Robin, Little John, and Will had since arrived at the entrance. What they saw astonished them. Dickon was frantically trying to find his way, while screaming, “My eyes…I can’t see…My eyes!”
“What did you do to him?” Jenna asked.
Warwick simply replied, “He will cause no harm to anyone, nor will he ever see again.”
Robin seemed to understand. “Herne’s judgment?” he asked. Warwick nodded gravely.
Friar Tuck came to the entrance. “I will see him to Tuxford,” he said, his voice filled with compassion.
“Yes, that would be best,” Robin agreed. Warwick retrieved his weapons and went back into the cave with Jenna. Robin and the others watched Friar Tuck lead the now blind Dickon out of the forest. Dickon was still wailing about not being able to see. Everyone felt pity for him now, even Warwick.
Later that evening, all were in good spirits again. Jenna told Nan, “He saved my life.”
Nan smiled and answered, “He has a knack for doing that.”
Then Jenna said softly, “I love him, Nan.” Nan embraced her friend.
“Go tell him!” she urged.
Jenna frowned. “What if he rejects me?” she said with apprehension.
Nan looked into her friend’s eyes and said, “Follow your heart…That’s what I did with Much.”
The Sheriff of Nottingham was becoming uncomfortable in his chair. Why was Dickon taking so long? Could he have failed again? The more he thought about Dickon, the more the Sheriff’s mood soured. This Warwick was as big an annoyance to the Sheriff as Loxley was. “So be it…Enjoy your holiday with Loxley and his accursed ilk!” the Sheriff snarled. “It will be your last…I swear it!” Abbot Hugo watched his brother with concern.
Friar Tuck had left all manner of delicacies at the cave so that his friends could experience a merry Christmas. The villagers of Tuxford had lovingly prepared them. Robin poured wine into every cup and offered up a toast. “To friends, and to a brighter future!” he said loudly. “To a free England!” he added. Everyone drank to those words.
“It seems to me, I recall a limerick for such an occasion,” Will said provocatively.
“How does it go?” Little John asked.
“WILL…don’t you dare!” Marion cried. Everyone laughed out loud.
Friar Tuck had left Much and Nan some mistletoe, as if they needed any, to get into a romantic mood. Much kissed his Nan and said, “Give it to Warwick and Jenna.”
Nan agreed and said, “They need it more than we do.”
Warwick had gone to the cave entrance alone, but Jenna followed him and asked, “Are you ever lonely, Warwick?”
“This is the first Christmas I spend with friends…Before this time, there was much loneliness for me.”
Jenna lowered her eyes and said, “For me too.”
“Are there no eligible suitors you could love in Tuxford?”
“The one I love is here in Sherwood,” she answered. Warwick looked into Jenna’s green eyes and then he spontaneously kissed her.
When Much and Nan came upon them, they were still kissing. Nan looked at Much and smiled. “They don’t need the mistletoe anymore,” she said. Much had to agree with her.
Soon Warwick and Jenna joined Nan and Much, and both couples joined the others by the fire. As a group they started singing traditional holiday carols while Much played Warwick’s wooden flute to accompany them. Warwick was inspired to do yet another amazing thing. He reached into his pouch and pulled out some magic powder. Everybody held his or her breath, wondering what he was going to do. Warwick dropped the powder bit by bit into the fire and, as he did, he again mumbled something under his breath. Loud pops came from the fire in all the colors of the rainbow. It was like nothing anyone had ever seen before. Jenna and Nan watched, their eyes as big as saucers. Jenna whispered to Nan, “He is magic!”
This would be a memorable Christmas for all. Jenna and Nan would have to stay in Sherwood until Friar Tuck came for them. Who knew how long that would take? The threat of Dickon had been eliminated forever. It would be up to the fates to decide what the New Year would bring. All three couples stood together at the entrance of the cave and watched the snow falling, while the rest of the men drank wine and sang Christmas carols together.
“Merry Christmas from Sherwood!”
Snow is falling, snow is falling
As if the firmament
In a coat with many patches
Were making its descent. Snow is falling, snow is falling,
So quickly passes a year.
Summer’s gone, Winter comes
And Christmas time is here!
