The Fruits of May

Robin/Marian pre-series. Posted for luck, and unbeta-ed.

"The month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth
to blossom, and to bring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees
bring forth fruit and flourish in May, in likewise every lusty heart
that is in any manner a lover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty
deeds. For it giveth unto all lovers courage,
that lusty month of May." -Sir Thomas Malory, Le Morte d'Arthur, 1485

o0O0o

The day was warm and full of sunshine. Maid Marian of Knighton awoke on the anniversary of her birth and the first of May to make merry with her villagers. This day she turned fifteen, and held all the virtues and vestiges of a comely maiden.

She danced around the May Pole, a pink ribbon clamped firmly in her sweating hand, moving in the same pattern of the other maids next to her. She was joyful and free, celebrating her favorite holiday. Many youths had kissed her cheek, but she was far from angry today. Any other day, those sorts of liberties would not have been tolerated from the peasants, but this day, society's expectations turned a blind eye to the merriment. Marian was just another young girl, ripe for the taking.

But there was one youth who had not tried to kiss her, and truth be told she was a little miffed.

Master Robin of Locksley was seventeen and very handsome. He was tall and thin, but his stature betrayed great strength. He won every archery contest and could handle a sword better than most. He was being groomed to take over Locksley Manor, Earl Geoffrey, his father, was becoming quite frail. And everyone gossiped how perfect it would be for the youth to take Maid Marian for a bride; they were close in age, only three years difference, and their lands boarded each other. The two had been close friends as children.

Robin had left to train with the new King Richard in the Aquitaine and returned to be quite the catch. Many women hoped the young man would simply bed them, even if he did not wed them. Marian, however, was too proud to admit that she liked him in a romantic sense, and still treated him as her playful, mischievous childhood friend.

Her tactic seemed not to work, as he generally ignored her now, and never came to visit. Marian was hurt and confused by this. She had grown in beauty and intelligence while he was away gaining the confidence and respect of the King.

But today, she did her best to ignore him. She was successful; Marian did not notice him watching her all through the May Games.

Her joy was complete when she was declared the Queen of May. Everyone cheered as the announcement was made. The archers would be shooting for a kiss from the Maid and the "crown" of being Jack-of-the-Green.

She watched as arrows flew dangerously closer to the bulls-eye of the target. At first, each thunk in the wooden circle felt like a blow to her heart. Every unmarried male was allowed to compete. The tournament was dragging on and on. The air was growing colder, clouds were scurrying in from the northwest. Marian hoped it would not rain. She drew her cloak tightly around her. Marian was beginning to lose interest and began shredding a flower on one of her garlands. Then Robin of Locksley stepped up to shoot.

Marian felt her heart flutter. She knew he would win. There was no question in her mind that he would win. She did not know how to feel. Angry? Excited? Desire? The last one caught her off guard as she watched him string his bow.

He was calm as he selected an arrow from his quiver and brought it to the string. He drew back, aimed, paused momentarily, long enough for Marian to hold her breath, and let the arrow fly.

The arrow hit the wood directly in the center of the bulls-eye. No one else's arrow was even close. Marian's breath hitched, but the sound was lost in the cheering of the crowd. He turned and winked at her. Marian felt herself blush.

She stood and waited for him to approach her on the raised, tented platform. She did not have to think, she reacted automatically. He knelt in front of her. Marian raised an eyebrow. So he was going to play games. Well, she knew how to play.

"Arise, Sir Knight, and receive your reward."

He stood and gave her an appraising stare. Marian leant into him and kissed his cheek. She lingered longer than was expected of her, breathing in his scent. He smelled of horses, and leather, sweat and exotic perfumes from France, or was she merely imagining it? She nearly swooned. Pulling back quickly, she grinned at him.

It was then that the heavens opened and poured down on them. Marian ducked under the tent over the pavilion, Robin followed her. The crowd soon scattered, her father included, though Marian never was quite sure why.

"Thank you, milady."

"For what, Sir Knight?"

If it had not been so serious, if he had not stood so close to her, Marian might have laughed. They were still playing childhood games of chivalry and courtly love. Lancelot might have said this to Guinevere once upon a time. She trembled slightly, and pulled her cloak around her more tightly to ward off the damp.

He said nothing, but kissed her, this time on her lips. Marian did not react for a moment, unsure of what to do. Slowly, cautiously, but with such confidence that made Marian sure that he had done this before, he moved his hand to gently cup her cheek. Marian responded by moving closer, defying all her lessons on how a young lady should behave. This felt right. It felt good, to be so close to him. She yearned to be closer, for time to stop all together.

After a moment, Robin drew away and said, "Many happy returns on your birthday."

"Thank you," was all she could think of to say. The kiss had muddled her brain.

From that day on, he called on her home everyday and a month later, she found herself betrothed to the man who had awoken her desires on what was the most fertile day of the year.