Many years ago, I wrote the short story "Vivian" for Martin Greenberg's Robin Hood Anthology. My take on the well-known tale was to imagine the complications of a man trying to be heroic, but unable to do it alone. This is in the spirit of behind every good man there is someone else making him possible. So what does Robin owe to the fantastic? How does he manage between wanting to be that hero and knowing that when he does becomes successful, it comes at the price of another. My intention was not to dishonor the Robin Hood narrative, but to explore the possibility of a more complicated story beneath the surface of the legend.
"Give me my bent bow in my hand, And a broad arrow I'll let flee. And where this arrow is taken up, There shall my grave digge'd be." — From the "Song of Robin Hood"
Robin gritted his teeth and raised the longbow. He nocked his arrow, the grey goose fletch drawn back beside his ear. His gaze followed the curve of the animal's chest, imagining the shaft penetrating to the heart. The doe snorted as a breeze stirred the branches of the tree above and water droplets sprinkled her head. She shook, startled and then caught Robin's scent. The two knuckles that held the bowstring back dug deeper into Robin's cheek as he willed himself to remain steady. The doe withdrew behind the bush, seeking cover. Robin stepped forward to keep his target in view. Beneath his foot a twig snapped a loud warning in the wood. Within a heartbeat the doe leapt from her hiding place and fled.
Cursing, Robin swerved his body, trying to track the rump of the fleeing doe as he let loose his arrow. The hopeful twang was silenced abruptly as the arrow thudded harmlessly into a tree.
Robin hung his head and groaned. Sweat chilled his temples, darkening the curly hair. Damn the greenwood! he swore in frustrated rage. It had turned against him, willing that he should starve from lack of game and freeze with the cold damp of a harsh winter. He looked up angrily and stared out at the black and grey trunks of the wintery trees. The leather-brown leaves of the oaks shivered dryly in response.
Midori Snyder is the author of nine books for children and adults, published in English, French, Dutch, and Italian. She won the Mythopoeic Award for The Innamorati, a novel inspired by early Roman myth and the Italian "Commedia dell'Arte" tradition....
