"Marian"--A Short Story of Sorts

This is a short story I started writing for my composition class last year. I was just re-reading it again and although the sisters in it appear to be similar to my sisters in real life, I've made the older one a lot more dark/menacing. Most of the story's ideas come from the BBC Robin Hood show, so you may call it "fan-fiction" if you like. Some of the writing is not my best/favorite work. But let me know what you think!

-Chapter One-

Rosemary, A Trip into Town, and Questions

"Marrrriiian!"

I shuddered as I heard that piercing howl for the third time that hour. Not caring if the surplus of vegetables and herbs went flying everywhere, I let my basket fall to the ground, wiped my brow, and stumbled into the kitchen.

"Where is that rosemary?!" Eleanor, my older sister, raged as she viciously plucked the feathers from our precious chicken. It had been months since our small family had been blessed with a sumptuous feast, but today was an exception. Father was returning home from the Holy Land, and everything had to be perfect...even if it meant scraping together our last shillings to buy a plump chicken.

"Well? Have you found any?" she barked impatiently as she tapped her foot.

"Yes, I have," I managed to mumble. "I'll be back in a moment with it. Anything else 'Princess Eleanor'?"

She threw me a look too angry for words, and I scampered out of the threshold, hoping that another awful squeal would soon be out of earshot.

Once I reached the garden, the blazing sun reminded me that mid-afternoon was nearing. I never minded the sun. Cecily, my younger and kinder sister, always seemed to be fanning herself, no matter the weather, and she envied my tolerance of fiery temperatures. She even looked like the sun, with her flaming auburn mane, rosy cheeks exploding with freckles, and bold, opinionated temper already established at thirteen years of age.

Eleanor, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. Blessed with rich, ebony tresses and a smile so sweet that every lad in Kenton longed to be shot a toothy grin from her, Eleanor was often visited by the shyest of suitors. But as the oldest, she insisted on putting Cecily and me "in our places," and although she could be quite charming, that was when she was the most dangerous. In her nineteen years, she had discovered the art of manipulation and had mastered its perfection thoroughly.

Ahhh, I thought with relief, here's that confounded rosemary! Plucking a handful of leaves from the precious herb, I scampered back into Kenton Hall, the home that had held four generations of Kentons and a myriad of memories for more than one hundred years. It was neither the grandest of homes, nor did it have the most breath-taking facade, but, nevertheless, it was my home, and I had lived in it and loved it for seventeen years.

"Oh, you're here just in time," Eleanor said with a fiendish smile as I entered the kitchen threshold for the second time that hour. "I was just about to send Cecily to Locksley market without you. She's already hitched Bran to the cart, and I've given her a list of all that is necessary for father's welcoming."

Little did Eleanor know that my heart skipped a beat at this invitation! It had been weeks since I was privileged with a visit to the market, and I my feet were itching to flee Kenton Hall for the least bit of excitement. Maybe I would even get the chance to ride Bran, my favorite stallion.

On the six-mile journey into Locksley, I thought of father, his responsibility for the men under his command, and the bloody war with the Saracens. Why were the poor men of England engaging in war when they had families to care for? Why was King Richard so bent on changing the Saracens' beliefs? Is not every soul entitled to its own views? These questions and others entered my perplexed mind, and before Cecily and I knew it, we were enveloped in the cries of the greedy vendors at Locksley market.

-Chapter Two-

Guy, The Candle Store, An Old Friend

After I had tethered Bran to a post outside the blacksmith's shop, I turned around and discovered that Cecily had already scampered off into the confusion of the square. Suddenly, a sharp yank on my mousy-brown braid made me shriek and whirl around to lay eyes on the culprit. Standing there with that big-headed smirk on his puny, little face was Guy of Gisbourne, the miller's son. Recently returned from Brighton as a soldier-in-training, Guy had assumed the role of braggart and held the belief that he could woo any young maiden...whether she liked it or not.

"Why are you snaking around the market today? Is today different from any other day?" I snapped as I turned away from him as I started a determined march to the candle-maker's shop.

"Todaaay is tha same as yester-tomorrow," he managed to sputter out as I realized that he had already paid a visit to the tavern that afternoon. "You are looking as striking as a rose today, Marian...thorns and all...," he spewed out.

I threw him a dirty look and strode into Bramwell of Locksley's candle store.

"God bless and keep you, Marian! How do you and your sisters fair?" smiled Bramwell.

"We are getting by. Father is returning from the Holy Land this eve," I said with a grin. After finally losing Guy and his horrid remarks and buying ten tallow candles, I overheard Kennera of Langdon speaking in a hushed tone with Delia, the baker's daughter.

"I hear that that Robin of Locksley has become an outlaw. He gave up that position of squire to become an outlaw! And he was on the brink of becoming a knight, too. What is in that boy's head?"

My heart leapt! I had not heard Robin's name for seven years! And now he had thrust aside the idea of fighting in the Holy Land with King Richard?! If I recalled, Robin had always been enthralled at the thought of waging war with King Richard. I had to see Robin as soon as I was able.

To be continued...