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it was true, were already joined with Hugh’s, but even so they were my property, and I was determined to hold them tight.
    I pressed my tutor on this further, for I was curious to know who governed my patch of dirt and trees, since I had no parents to watch it for me. In answer, I was surprised to learn that Apple Man had sole control of it. He, it seemed, had been appointed regent by Hugh’s mother, Lady Pernelle, and had managed the land since my marriage. I had known that I must have a regent, for every landed child has one to manage her estate until she is full grown, but to hear that it was Apple Man threw me into fits of laughter. I had scarcely thought of him seriously since our meeting so long ago, but now I found that I had to consider him a great deal and more carefully.
    Apple Man’s name, it happened, was Sir Thomas Lanois—a rather disappointing name, I thought, for such a comical creature. But each time I laughed I reminded myself that he must be very clever or he would not have gained his position. And so I forced myself to think of him as Sir Thomas and was able to keep my composure better.
    I drafted a letter to Sir Thomas, for I had developed such a hunger to see the lands of my birth that I could hardly think of anything else. In my letter I asked that he allow me to come, to tour Denby-upon-Trent and acquaint myself with its hills and valleys. I did not add that I wished to measure what sort of man he was, but that was no small part of my plan.
    In due time I received a reply heartily encouraging me to visit at my earliest convenience. This letter I showed to Lord William, head of Warwick, that he might allow me to travel out beyond his walls. He saw no reason for any delay, and within a week Annie and I had packed our things and were traveling to the north and east, loaded with small gifts for my regent.
    We rode a full two days and a half before approaching the region that held such interest for me. One of our guards was locally born, and he kindly informed me the day and hour we entered Denby.
    “This here’s the River Trent, m’lady,” he called, nudging his horse in my direction. “It marks the border between Denby and Sherwood Forest, where Robin Hood keeps his merry men.”
    This was the first I’d heard of Robin Hood, and the name caught my ear as a bird does a worm, making my heart beat doubly fast.
    “Who do you say? There, in those woods?” I glanced at the crowns of oak and elm, like unshorn sheep grazing in the distance, and felt an odd thrill pass through my veins.
    “Robin Hood, aye, the greatest outlaw of these parts.”
    “Outlaw!”
    “Indeed, m’lady. He and his fellows live deep in the wood, shooting the king’s deer for their suppers and making some mischief for the poor sheriff. There’s songs by the fork-load sung about him here—should you like to hear a stretch?”
    There was little I wished for more. Soon Annie joined us, and we three passed many miles together, listening to the songs of this local bandit who was so beloved by the people of Nottingham. The tale was in Saxon, and our guard’s accent differed somewhat from Annie’s, so I was hard pressed to follow it all and still turn my eye to the beauty around me. But these few verses I heard rightly and kept safe in my memory.

    Robin Hood he would and to fair Nottingham,
    With the general for to dine;
    There was he ware of fifteen forresters,
    And a drinking beer, ale, and wine.

    “What news? What news?” said bold Robin Hood;
    “What news, fain woudest thou know?
    Our king hath provided a shooting match,
    And I’m ready with my bow.”

    The tale wound on in riveting fashion to describe this outlaw, all clad in green, and his uncanny skill with the yew bow. He seemed to relish donning disguise, for it was dressed as a bellows mender that he won this match, taking away a pipe of fine wine as his prize.
    I was entranced, for I’d never before heard a bandit hailed as a hero, and the very thought of the