Magic Dress - Marian Pt. 01

CHAPTER 1

"Loxley!" I said, "Thrice welcome back from the Crusades!" My best friend was tanned, and older, but looked as handsome as ever. He was wearing the green cape and hood I had given him as a gift when he set out three years ago.

"My lord Lincoln," he replied with a bow. Then courtesy was set aside as I opened my arms and he rushed forward. We held each other tight and kissed as only the closest friends do.

"Robin!" I exclaimed.

"Marian!" he replied. There was naught else to be said. We had been friends since boyhood, learning swordplay together, and jointly being the despair of the friar who tried to teach us letters. Though I were christened Marius, this was what he had once called me, saying my swordplay was as a girl, but it was now used with affection, and also by my wife in our chambers. (His jest was not truth, for I could defeat many, yet he was unmatched. In archery I was sure the master of him.)

I was touched that he had come to me first, instead of going home. I had been unable to go on the Crusade as my father was dead, and I had to run the lands which the Conqueror had given our family. Robin's father had now died and he was returning to take over the Loxley estates, which were unusually large and prosperous for a Saxon lord. I could never understand the rift between Normans and Saxons, as we were all men as God made us, the sons of Adam. But I did understand how important it was to defend Christendom and kill those who denied it.

He had brought me a gift, a sumptuous gift.

"What manner of dress is this?" I asked holding up the wondrous garment. It was so finely made you could hardly believe that human hands had crafted it. It was not Lincoln green, but several other greens that I had never seen, with a pattern that seemed neither weaving nor embroidery. The cloth was fine: not wool, nor linen, more substantial than silk. It was a sort of sleeveless tunic or kirtle to the knees, yet more complex. Robin's cloak was the finest Lincoln cloth with the brightest dye, but it looked coarse and dull, by comparison.

"I know not the name, as I only met heathens on the point of my sword. But thou canst see, twould be a fine garment for a gentleman at court. The bare shoulders would leave thine arms fully free to use a sword, should the need arise, or thou couldst wear a shirt beneath. I hope the waist is not too narrow, but it should show thy fine manly figure. The skirt is quite crafty with many folds to allow free movement, such as on a horse. It could equally be worn it at court or out riding."

I called for my page and went to put it on, with some new hose. There were other wonders. It could be partially opened, but instead of lacing there were small disks on one side which went through slits on the other side. So convenient to do and undo, and such fine workmanship on the disks! They were of some green polished stone, though it felt more like horn, yet was not painted. I feared for a moment that the waist was too small, but wonder of wonders, it stretched without breaking to give me a snug fit! I felt the need for my shoes with the highest heels.

I was greatly admired by all, and felt so good in it, I could not help but kiss Robin again for his kindness. The ladies appreciated the fine stitching and the nimble fingers which made it so even.

I invited our scholar to inspect it. He is a friar of great learning, and I wondered if he knew more about such things.

"Not even the grandest bishop I have seen hath such a fine garment," he said. "Mayhap it is from Persia, the Indies or Cathay. It must have taken several of them, working for many weeks, with some arts of weaving and dyeing we do not know."

He was troubled on closer inspection to discover a small tag with lettering on it, and wondered if it might be some heathen witchcraft spell. He concluded it was not, because he said the heathens have a strange writing with marks as curved as their swords. The letters were tiny but meticulous, almost the work of a jeweller.

"Well, how dost thou read it, Tuck?" I asked, impatiently.

"I am not sure. It doth not make words. It is almost as if it were in English."

"How can that be?" I asked, bemused. "To read and write must be Latin, as thou thyself taught me."

"Letters can be made to represent the sounds of English, and I have heard that some monks have rendered part of scripture in the common tongue. However, it still doth not make sense." He paused and then hesitatingly continued.

"Polly Cotton Hand Wash Tumble Dry Low."

"Surely they are the names of English people," I suggested. "Mayhap they are slaves seized by the heathens and sending a message. One of them must be a military chaplain who hath letters. Polly must be the fine seamstress."

"How brave and ingenious of them," agreed the priest. "I will ask the Abbey to say prayers for the poor souls."

CHAPTER 2

My faithful wife also admired my new kirtle. She said it went right well with my long blond hair, but suggested I would look even better without a beard. She was correct, as always. My beard could not compete with the strong ones of Robin or my friend Guy of Gisbourne, and I was more handsome without, as was becoming the fashion amongst young men, anyway.

She was also impressed with the clever fastenings, and got her seamstress, Jenny Button, to make something like it on other garments. Her husband was a wood-carver who made the disks and they were able to sell every garment they could make at the fair.

Of course, I could not wear it all the time, but Jenny cleverly made some similar garments by shortening two lady's gowns and removing the sleeves, which were convenient for everyday use. For my birthday, my wife had bought some Nottingham lace which was attached to these new kirtles, rendering them rather fine. Some lace was also put on my nightgown. Though none would see it, I rather liked this. The heathen one required nothing to add to its glory.

One eventide she spake thus: "Art thou well, my lord?"

"Never felt better, wife of mine. Why dost thou ask?"

"I only wondered, because thou hast not swived any of our house wenches since Robin visited."

It was odd, but I had not.

"Twould be well if thou didst not get them with child, so by all means desist. Just be sure thou dost not swive me! I have had enough of childbirth, thanking thee, and I have my maid of the bedchamber to keep me warm on winter nights."

"If I may also say, my master, thou seemest very happy, and hast been treating the servants well. I note thou art bathing every month. If there be a mistress, might I know her name?"

"There is no mistress, my dearling! Had I wished one, I would have asked thine advice on whom to choose. Of course I am happy! I have a fine wife, handsome sons, prosperous lands, good servants. And if things go well, I shall be the next Sheriff of Nottingham!"

How pride goeth before a fall!

I was summoned to Nottingham, where I was glad to see my friend Guy of Gisbourne again, and we were to meet Prince John himself! Guy was not a boyhood friend, being ten years younger, but I respected and liked him a lot. Naturally I wore my heathen kirtle. Mayhap that was a mistake.

Prince John was there in a doublet with gold and jewels as befitted his royal status and his well-known liking for fine raiment. However, it looked clumsy compared to the elegance of my dress. Though he complimented me, I think he was jealous!

This was made worse when I revealed that it had been given to me by Sir Robin of Loxley. I learned that King Richard had been captured and a great ransom was demanded. In order to pay this, and other expenses of the Crusade, Prince John had decided to seize the lands of Saxon lords including Robin's. Loxley had not co-operated and several soldiers had been wounded. My best friend had been declared an outlaw, with a price on his head. He was believed to be hiding in the forest north of Nottingham and it was the duty of the new Sheriff to capture and hang him.

Though the Prince did not say so, it was clear that I could not be trusted, so Sir Guy was made the Sheriff. I wished him well, though it was hard to think of one of my friends hunting another.

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CHAPTER 3

There then followed a miserable time. Prince John demanded greater taxes, and I grieved for the burden on my serfs and peasants. I was also sorry for Robin, living as an outlaw. Finally, my friar brought me news that I might be able to see Robin, and suggested a clever stratagem.

I was dressed as one of my wife's maids, as she made a journey, accompanied by a couple of guards, of course. I had no beard and my long blond hair was of course properly covered, so no-one would guess. At a junction on the road, she made the guards turn their backs while the ladies relieved themselves, and I slipped into the bushes.

I had a dagger, but naught else apart from my woman's raiment. And I had no surety that Robin would turn up. If he did not, I would have to wait three days for the carriage to return.

Eventually, I saw men coming cautiously out of the woods, and saw with joy Robin's cloak and hood, now much tattered and dirty. He gave me their names: John Littlestaff, a big man, nearly two yards tall, Much Miller's son, Alan of the Dales, David of Doncaster, and Gilbert Whitehand. There were two with the same name: Will of Sharlot and Will of Stutely, whom they referred to as Sharlot and Stutely. They were also in poor clothes, some in rags, though John Littlestaff had a fur cloak. Nevertheless, the men made merry at my attire asking "Who is this Lady, a maid alone?"

As we came to their camp, we were suddenly set upon by some soldiers, doubtless Guy's men, who had found the camp and killed the two sentries. I was grabbed by one of them, who shouted that they would have some fun as well as a reward. It was the last thing he said as my dagger slipped under his ribs.

I grabbed his sword and despatched another standing close by before he overcame his surprise. Though there were more than twice as many as us, two more were killed and one was badly cut, which made them run away. Robin himself must have been a terrible adversary to the heathens, and his companions were equally ferocious.

There was no time to do anything but quickly bury the two dead outlaws, and move what we could to another place. Robin helped me to tie up my skirts so I could walk more easily. It was nearly nightfall when we made it to a place they knew near a stream. In case there were other soldiers about, we did not make a fire. Robin and I lay close together for warmth in a rough nest we made from twigs and leaves.

"I love thee, Marian," he said. "Whether maid or man!"

"I love thee too," I replied. "Thou art more dear than a brother to me!" And we kissed, of course.

I was not in the best condition when I crept back onto my wife's carriage, but managed to go privily back to my chambers when we came home.

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CHAPTER 4

The servants gave us the news that Robin, whom they were now calling Greenhood rather than Loxley, had been seen with forty outlaws led by a ferocious woman warrior.

I had noticed how well the Lincoln green helped hide Robin in the bushes, so determined to help him. With Tuck's aid we sent a cart with some clothes, food and other items which was then 'robbed' by Robin and his men. There was a cape and hood for each.

Guy came to see me.

"Marius, my dear friend," he said, "I know how much thou loved Loxley, but he is no longer thy friend. He is a Saxon, after all, and hath robbed thee as he robbeth other Normans. If thou learnst aught of his whereabouts, please tell me. He will be captured and hanged soon, in any case. If thou wert to help, then I would mention it to Prince John, which would be to thine advantage."

I promised that I would certainly do what I could to help, meaning Robin, of course.

Though he and the outlaws were portrayed as robbers, they only stole for necessities. Goods that had been seized for taxes or in punishment were taken, and what they did not need found its way to the churches, who distributed to the poor. Not even Prince John would risk seizing goods from the church, and his soldiers would be mortally afraid to do so.

I got into the habit of riding around my lands on a tour of inspection, often being away for a week or more. This gave me the chance to see Robin, to bring him news and encouragement. There were a couple of trusted places where I could change into the costume of a village woman. My wife took some more journeys as well, where I went along as a maid.

I sometimes joined him when they went to rob. It was clear that Robin had become the leader, with both the advantage of his breeding and experience as a soldier. The soldiers quickly learned that they would not be harmed if they surrendered, or gave in quickly. In fact, a couple of sergeants obviously had an arrangement where they would pretend to fight but be disarmed by Robin.

Gilbert and Stutely were prodigious archers, and could carefully shoot so that an arrow came into a cart but without hitting anyone, which was a good token of warning. Robin had never taken to the longbow, but would hold it afterwards with an arrow nocked and call upon the soldiers to yield. I would be there in my clothes as a maid, waving a sword. While I travelled as a peasant woman or servant, my wife had supplied some good clothes, which were hidden in the abbey, among priests' vestments. I thus appeared oft as a noblewoman.

There was one occasion when I did actually fight again, when we came across some soldiers from out of the area. It was thrilling to be in action, and to see the surprise of a maid wielding a sword with the strength and skill of a man. I tried to wound, rather than kill, but could not know if disease would take the man later.

It was right after this that I made a mistake, not thinking carefully about ordinary things. I was not a peasant, so normally used a privy, with everything provided by the servants. In the woods I gathered the wrong leaves to wipe my arse. By nightfall it was on fire!

Robin said it would last a week if untreated, and there was only one remedy, which needed the closest friend to apply it. As with all medical treatment it was unpleasant. I said it mattered not how vile the taste, I would gladly take any potion required, but he said it was applied more directly. However, I would have to hold still, as when a barber applied stitches to a wound.

I emptied my bowels, then washed in the stream. He first applied a mixture around my hole, then inside, first with one finger, then two, stretching me a little as he spread the salve. That actually provided a little relief, but he said the next part was crucial and might hurt for a while. I could feel some object thrusting in. It did hurt, but less so than the fire from the plants had been, and I waited as he moved it in and out. It was not that unpleasant, but I suddenly realised what was happening.

"Zounds, Robin! Art thou swiving me?!"

"Yes, dear brother," he grunted. "A man's seed is the essential ingredient of the cure. Tis well-known to forest dwellers."

He groaned as he unloaded his life force in me, thrusting deep as a man does with a maid. So this was what it felt like to be swived! It was not as bad as my wife suggested.

He pulled out and wiped the seed around. In truth, it did feel a little better.

"Thine arse will need a second treatment tomorrow," he remarked.

By the following evening there was almost no discomfort, but Robin insisted that the hurt would come back if I did not have a second treatment. As I was not surprised, I took the treatment without complaint. In fact, it was the least unpleasant medical treatment I have ever had. A pox on the quacks with their blood-letting and foul concoctions!

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CHAPTER 5

On my next visit to Robin we lay together for warmth in his shelter, me in my woman's clothes, of course. My wife had got Jenny to make some bags hung from a halter around my neck and stuffed with horsehair to give the appearance of breasts. He held me close from behind as we talked, with his hands on these mounds.

After a while, I felt his cock hard behind me.

"Marian," he whispered. "I have not lain with a maid for so long, and we do not rape, unlike the soldiers. As thou lovest me, might I swive you?"

Somehow it was easy to say "Robin, I love thee like no other, my comrade and brother. Yes, thou mayst swive me."

I was happy to feel his satisfaction, and it was strangely pleasant, in fact comforting to feel him again within me. But most of all was I happy for the pleasure I had given this brave outlaw and hero of the Crusade.

I did not say anything, but realised that I had not felt the desire to swive since he had returned with his marvellous gift. Now I somehow had the desire to be swived, and only by him.

However, that night I had a dream in which I was swived by all Robin's men and woke to find my own seed had been released, which had not happened for a long time. I had to discard one petticoat.

I told the others of this dream while we broke fast round a campfire. They agreed it had been a sign, which we should acknowledge by making it true that eventide. As honest men, they would only swive a willing maid, and as willing maids were extremely rare in the forest, their desires had been sorely felt.

While keeping a good guard, they took it in turns to swive me, which was a strangely exhilarating experience. Will of Sharlot was the most solicitous, hoping that I was not hurting and asking me how it felt. He was the youngest of the outlaws and very fair with no beard, but the best swordsman. I learned that John Littlestaff's name was a joke, as his staff was enormous! It was difficult, but I felt a strange almost spiritual satisfaction from his great thrusts and the seed he loaded into me. My own seed came out again, which John said was a miracle. Robin was the final one, and said if this happened again, John had better be last.

John declared that from now on we would be Marian's men! Robin said that might make the Sheriff think of me, but the dream and miracle had perhaps been a sign from the Virgin Mary, and we could call ourselves Mary's men. There were many churches and shrines to her, and our warrior maid could be seen as her representative.

On my return, I told the friar that I had heard that some of those on the Crusade had swived each other, and was this a sin? He went rather red, before saying that scripture advised against it, but mainly where practised in worship of idols or other heathen superstition. For a man to relieve another in a holy pursuit might be considered a support. It was known to be common amongst sailors who, providing they returned to their wives, were not barred from the comfort of the church. He went red again, and said the priesthood, as a community of celibate men, preferred not to talk about such questions, but could not utterly condemn it.

I felt better, considering the outlaws had suffered monstrous injustice and Robin had clearly expiated almost any sins by the number of heathens he had killed.

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