In the depths of Sherwood Forest, under a spreading apple tree, a figure halfway between man and tree dozed in the spring sunshine. His name was Ablach, the Treeman of Apples. He had other titles, but at the moment, he preferred being just Ablach, or at most the “Green Man of Sherwood.” He sighed contentedly. It was a perfect day.

    The peace of the woods was interrupted by the sound of a lute being played in the near distance. Ablach opened one eye lazily. Just on the other side of the tree he spotted a friend of his, Robin of Sherwood. Robin set a finger on his lips, warning for silence. This made Ablach sit up a bit more and wake up. What was all this?

    The young man dressed in scarlet walked along, almost skipping and singing

“I’ll sing you six, O

Green grow the Rushes, O!

What is your six, O?”

    He was a handsome fellow, with brown hair to his shoulders. He carried the lute on his shoulder, which he played as he sang.

“Six for the six proud walkers,

Five for the symbols at your door,”

Four for the gospel-makers,

Three, three, the rivals!”

The man stopped and spun around, bowing to an invisible partner.

“Two, two the lily-white boys,

Coated all in green, O!

One is one, and all alone,

And evermore shall be so.”

    The young man disappeared through the forest. Ablach stood up and stood by Robin, leaning with an elbow on the tree.

    “Cheerful fellow. Do you know him, Robin?”

    “Not a bit, but I think that he is a man who fears very little. Why else would he come singing and in scarlet?”

    “Your Will wears scarlet.”

    “Aye, but he has greater sense than to wear a full suit of scarlet red in the greenwood!”

    Ablach paused to consider something, a puckish smile spreading over his face. “Let me travel ahead and see what makes him so. We spirits of the forest have our ways.”

    Robin, as fond of fun as the Apple Treeman, nodded. It would be worth it to find out more about this young man. Ablach seemed to melt into the forest and he sped away. His long strides ate up the ground as he ran through the forest, noiseless as the deer, and more invisible. His barky skin and green, leafy tunic camouflaged Ablach perfectly in the foliage. The young man continued to sing as he walked, leading Ablach out of the forest, a few miles from where he started. On the edge of the woods stood a girl, dressed in blue. She anxiously paced and petted her horse by turns as though looking for something or someone. The scarlet man emerged from the forest, placed his lute on the ground near the tree that Ablach was hiding behind and ran up to the girl. They embraced, the girl chattering.

    “Oh, thank goodness you’re here!”

    “Ellen? What’s the matter? You’re so pale, and you’re shaking…”

    “Uncle has found out about us!”

    The man laughed. “Well, let him! What can he do? As of tomorrow you’re a free woman!”

    The girl burst into tears. “He’s the Bishop, he can forbid the banns, he could excommunicate you!”

    The man knew that this was true. “Then we should run away. I know the greenwood as well as anyone.”

    Suddenly a man in black robes, surrounded by men at arms flooded out of the nearby town.

    “There’s the brigand!” bellowed the man in black.

    “Run, Allen!” cried Ellen.

    The Minstrel tried to flee, tripping over his own two feet and falling. The men at arms grabbed him, holding him in one spot while the man in black berated the girl.

    “What mean you sneaking around with this vagabond? And you a knight’s daughter!”

    The girl, delicate as an apple blossom, stood tall and quietly said, “Father promised me my choice, Uncle, and I choose Allen.”

    The man in black turned pale and then red, turning purple by the end. “I should have you horsewhipped!” he bellowed. Ellen stood her ground.

    “Father promised me his lands when I turned eighteen and my own choice of husband! Both are mine as of tomorrow morning!”

    “Your father is no longer here and you will marry Sir Lawrence!” Ellen shrank a little and he continued, “This cur does not befit your land and blood.”

One of the men-at-arms punched Alan in the gut, another man kicked him in the leg, and a third punched him in the back of the head.

Ellen cried out, “No, don’t!”    

    The man in black thought for a moment. “As a wedding present to you, I won’t throw him in the dungeons, I’ll let him go on his way. Provided that he does not show his face around here again.”

    The man turned to Allen, who now had a black eye from his fall and was slightly dazed.

    “Do I make myself clear, little man?”

    “Yes, sir,” he growled, barely keeping his temper.

    “I’m glad we understand one another. Come Ellen! One of you get that horse.”

    Allen sat on the ground, still feeling the effects of the few sucker-punches the men-at-arms had gotten in. Ellen could be heard sobbing on her way back to town, the Bishop scolding her all the while.

    “Young man?” came a voice from the bushes.

    “Who’s there?” slurred Allen.

    “I suppose you could call me a friend.”

    “A friend?”

    “A friend of the greenwood.”

    “You speak in riddles and I have no heart for riddles.”

    “I saw everything that happened. I’m sorry.”

    Allen sat with his arms on his knees. “What’s it matter now? I’ve lost Ellen forever.”

    Ablach had seen this sort of attitude before, and he knew there was just one way to snap him out of it. Ablach came out of the bushes and stood Allen up. The minstrel started back stammering and fumbling for his crucifix.

    “You- you’re a- and you-”

    “Go on, I’ve heard them all.”

    “That fellow must’ve hit me harder than I thought…” Allen sat back down, holding his head.

    “That one’s new. My name is Ablach.”

    “I may be courting danger, but I’m Allen A Dale.”

    Ablach sat down beside Allen and offered him a drinking flask. “Cider? It might help your head.”

    Allen looked suspiciously at the flask. “No, thank you.”

    “Ah, right.” Ablach took a swig from the flask. “So tell me, what was all that then? Who was that man? I can figure out the girl, she’s clearly your sweetheart.”

    “More than my sweetheart! We were to be married in the morning!”

    “Oh.” Sympathy laced the hamadryad’s voice. “I’m sorry.”

    “She’s an orphan. The sole heiress of a goodly land, all hers when she turns 18. What’s more, her father left it in his will that she may have her choice of husband. Her mother and father were a love match and when her mother passed, he resolved that Ellen should have her own choice of men.”

    “Like Gawain and Ragnell.”

    Allen smiled. “Yes. Like Gawain and Ragnell. But Ellen’s father placed her in the care of the Bishop of Hereford on his death. And despite being a man of God, he is greedy and cruel.”

    “I happened to notice that.”

    Allen buried his face in his arms again. “It’s just not fair! Now she’ll have to marry the Bishop’s choice, a fop by the name of Sir Lawrence. He’s a tedious man, nice enough, but he’s ancient, almost old enough to be her grandfather. And I know not what to do! Where can a poor minstrel turn? I have nought but seven shillings in my pocket…” Allen lifted his head “I know! I’ll sneak in and rescue her!”

    Allen jumped to his feet, then staggered dizzily. Regaining his balance, Allen struck out for the town. Ablach got up and grabbed his arm, stopping him from going further.

    “Come now, enough! Discretion is the better part of valor, my boy, and I I know where you can turn.”

    “I don’t understand…”

    “Just follow me, Allen. Humans, so thick sometimes!”

    Ablach ended up leading Allen away through his secret passages and trails in the forest to Robin Hood’s camp. The could hear the merriment through the trees, laughter and singing, the crackle of fires and the smell of cooking.

    “Where are we? Is this the Faerie Queen’s court?” asked Allen, in awe.

    “Not quite, come and see.” Ablach lifted the branches so Allen could see. Dancing around the fires were men dressed in green and brown, in the midst of them danced a young man with fair hair and a girl with nut brown hair. A fiddler, a very large fellow with bagpipes, a man with a lute, and another man with a drum played the tune.

“Unite and unite, and let us all unite

For summer is a-coming today!

And whither we are going we all will unite

In the merry morning of May!

The young men of Padstow, they might if they would

For summer is a-coming today!

They might have built a ship and gilded it with gold

In the merry morning of May!”

    The girl spun out of the ring and began to sing herself.

“The young women of Padstow, they might if they would

For summer is a-coming today!

They might have built a garland with the white rose and the red

In the merry morning of May!”

    Allen’s eyes widened. “Are you certain this isn’t the Court of the Faeries?”

    Ablach smiled. “No, I am certain. This is the court of Robin Hood!”

    “Robin Hood? Well, he means no harm to a poor minstrel!”

    “More than that, he will help a poor minstrel! Come, follow me!” Ablach waded out of the forest and called out “Hail, Robin Hood!” A cheer went up for the merry apple man.

    “Ablach! Come, my friend! Come closer!” called Robin. Ablach, with Allen at his heels, came to where Robin was, the outlaw stepping away from the fire politely. Allen looked about, not wondering he had mistaken this for the Faerie court. Robin was chatting amiably with Ablach, joined by the girl with the nut brown hair.

    “Allen, come here. Robin, this is Allen A Dale. Allen, this is Robin Hood and Lady Marian Fitzwalter.”

    “Pleased to know you.” Robin shook hands with Allen. “Poor fellow looks like someone hit him with a fish!”

    “Come with me, Sir Allen, you look as though you could use something to eat and drink,” suggested Marian.

    “Excellent suggestion, my love, please show him the way,” Robin agreed.

    Marian took Allen aside, where a large man in a monk’s robe was serving up hot meat pies and cider.

    “Friar Tuck was quite grateful for your latest gift from your trees. He says it is the finest cider he has ever had,” Robin said to Ablach.

    “I’m glad he’s pleased with it, but I came to bring Allen here. Boy’s in a spot of bother.”

    “Why, a cheery fellow like that? What’s happened?”

    “Perhaps you should ask him yourself.”

    Robin and Ablach walked over to the table where Robin sat down across from Allen and Ablach sat on a tree stump at the end of the bench table.

    “Now, my merry fellow, what is it you do?” asked Robin, helping himself to the pasty.

    “I’m a minstrel, though I can fight with the sword and shoot as well as any man.”

    Robin nodded. “You look like a man who has troubles, tell me your story.”

    Allen told his story, how he was to marry Ellen, and the cruelty of her wicked guardian who truly sought to steal her lands from her.

    “That’s all this is!” raged Allen “A theft!”

    Robin looked over at Ablach. “Did you slip something into his cider?”

    Ablach shook his head no and shrugged. “One cannot blame him, really.”

    “What’s this?” said Friar Tuck. “A man of the cloth stealing from someone?”

    “Aye, sir, only it’s legal for him to do it. My sweetheart has lands in her name, and the Bishop of Hereford-”

    Friar Tuck slammed a beefy hand on the table, making everyone jump. “The Bishop of Hereford, I should have known! Say no more, my son, something should be done!”

    “All shall be done, Friar, no one here would see a lady robbed of what’s rightfully hers,” Robin said.

    “Especially not I!” said the treeman, remembering his own sweetheart back in Avalon.

    “All this is well and good, but we need a plan, gentlemen. We can’t exactly run up to the Bishop’s rectory, kick down the door, and snatch Ellen like a purse of gold!” said Marian, tempering everyone’s enthusiasm.

    “Marian is right, it would be foolish to try to rescue her, the Bishop is probably expecting something like that.” said Ablach.

    “Then what should we do?” asked Allen. “There’s enough men here that we could storm the place…”

    “You can forget that, my son, corrupt though he may be, he’s still an officer of the church.” said Friar Tuck.

    “How far away is the place where your Ellen will be married?” asked Robin.

    “Only about five miles away!”

“Allen, I will need to borrow your cloak and lute. Here’s the plan…”

Everyone pulled in close to hear Robin’s plans. As Robin explained, smiles and laughs spread around; this would be a trick for the ages!

The next morning, bright and early, everyone was busy. Marian had exchanged her hose and tunic for her best dress, Robin had shed his suit in favor of one of Will’s bright suits and Allen’s cape, while Friar Tuck was busily gathering his supplies.

“Everyone knows the plan, correct?”

A chorus of “Ayes” rang out. Robin nodded certainly. “Good. I will leave in a moment. Wait for a little while, then come, following our Green Man. I will go on ahead to the church and stall the wedding. Friar Tuck, be ready on my signal.”

Robin started out on his journey. After a few minutes, Ablach led the way into the forest. As he walked he grew branches with blossoms off his arms and wove them into a crown, one for Marian and one for fair Ellen.

“Marian, you will be wanted at the wedding, so here is a gift.” He set the delicate tiara of flowers on Marian’s head.

“Oh, that must hurt terribly!” said Marian, going to touch Ablach’s arms.

“No, no, no more than cutting your hair or fingernails. Honestly, Marian, it’s fine.”

“Come come, we must hurry or our plans will be undone!” said Friar Tuck.

Marian picked up her skirts and called everyone forward. “The Friar is right, come on, you all!”

At the door of the church Robin heard murmurings

“Old Sir Raphael promised her her choice…”

“She didn’t choose Lawrence, I’ll warrant you.”

“Nay, I hear she truly wanted to marry Allen A Dale!”

“He’s a worthy fellow, she has money enough for them both!”

“Aye, there’s the shame of it!”

“Ellen and Sir Raphael were always good to us… Something should be done!”
    “And go against the Bishop?!”

“Well,” thought Robin, “At least the people will not fight us.”

Finally the Bishop himself arrived, dressed from head to toe in gold, white, and scarlet, a chain with a ruby set in it around his neck. He was a tall, fat man, with a heavy, red face and haughty eyes. He caught sight of Robin standing by the nave door.

“You! What are you doing here?”

“Why, I’m the best minstrel in all the North! I had heard there was a fine wedding to be held today and I thought I would come and see it. Have you need of music?”

“Assuredly we do! Come master, play for us until the bride arrives. Where is that girl?”

“You know what women are like, My Lord, especially for such occasions as this. She must be getting ready still,” Robin answered merrily.

“Aye, that is true.”

Meanwhile, the Merry Men and the treeman slipped into town and onto the church property, hiding themselves in the little copse of trees around the church and in the graveyard. Ablach found an apple tree to camouflage himself under and made a beeline for it. He pressed his back to it, muttering, “I sure hope this works.”

Robin played several tunes for the people in the church, visibly lifting a few spirits, but it was not to last. In the door entered the groom, Sir Lawrence. He was old, but fairly handsome none the less, burdened with armor and unnecessary finery. Robin shook his head. Allen was absolutely right about him being very old. The attempt to dress stylishly must be trying to make up for it.

Robin played another tune until the bride arrived. Ellen was a pretty enough bride, but ashen-faced and red-eyed from crying. In her hands she carried a bouquet of flowers, but notably they missed the apple blossom. Her white and silver dress was embroidered with gold, but far too much to be tasteful (Robin was proud of himself for noticing that) and so stiff she could hardly move.

Robin, despite knowing what was going on, played louder. The Bishop glanced at him severely.

“My Lord, what is it?” Robin asked innocently.

“Silence, the bride has arrived.”

Robin laughed. “Well, I can see she has come, but it seems the groom is a bit late!”

“Knave! He’s already here!” The Bishop gestured to the old knight.

“What, surely you jest? This man must be her grandfather here to give her to a good man of her choice.”

“That is not the case… Master minstrel, if you do not mind dispensing with these inane questions…”

“Is this of your choice?” asked Robin, turning to Ellen. Ellen burst into tears, trying to hide behind her flowers.

“She has no choice in the matter! I as her legal guardian have decided to marry her to Sir Lawrence,” the Bishop snarled to the girl. “A knight’s daughter cannot marry a penniless minstrel.”

Ellen stopped crying and looked up at him, her eyes streaming but defiant.

“So that’s the reason then!” burst Robin, throwing off Allen’s cloak. “Her sweetheart couldn’t afford the bride price, so you would sell her to this man and steal from her!”

Robin, before anyone could stop him, blew his hunting horn.

“Brother, what does he mean by ‘sold to me’?” said Sir Lawrence.

The Bishop opened his mouth, and closed it again.
    “You do not wish to marry me?” asked Sir Lawrence of Ellen.

“Sir Lawrence-”

“Not another word, girl!”

“Let her speak!” snapped Lawrence turning on his brother. More gently he asked “Do you or do you not want to marry me?”

“You have always been good to me, Sir Lawrence, and I love you as one loves a dear uncle who gave her sweets as a child.” Lawrence smiled at the memory as Ellen continued, “But no, I do not want to marry you.”

“I understand, my dear.”

The Bishop was blue in the face, spluttering in mute anger at this turn. Suddenly, the door flew open, revealing a dozen men in green, a friar, and a young woman, who marched in and took up positions around the church.

“That’s the signal!” called Ablach to the Merry Men. The men rushed inside, followed by Friar Tuck and Marian.

“Marian, wait!” called the Hamadryad. “This is for the bride. Now go, quickly!” he gave her the other crown of apple blossoms and Marian rushed inside.

Ablach dared to come closer to the church to see inside. Standing out of sight, he was able to see and hear all that went on.

“Now, My Lord,” said Robin once all the Merry Men were in place. “We will perform the marriage with the right bridegroom. Allen!”

Allen stepped forward, dressed in a suit borrowed from the Merry Men’s stash of looted clothing. Marian helped Ellen take off the uncomfortable crown of pearls and gold and put on the flower crown.

“Now, My Lord Bishop, the bride and groom are here, let us begin.”

“My lord bishop,” said Sir Lawrence, “I will not marry her.”

“Lawrence!”

“You heard her, she doesn’t want to marry me! My mind is made up, I will not be party to taking what is the rightful property of another, not to mention to the hurt of a young girl. However,” he approached Ellen. “Would you consent to this old man giving you to the man of your choice?”

“Yes, Sir Lawrence, I would be happy if you did.”

“Now, My Lord, we are ready to begin.” said Lawrence, backing up Robin’s command.

“That cannot be!” the Bishop spluttered. “The banns must be called three times, that is the law of England.”

“And?”

The Bishop planted his feet. He was not going to perform the marriage.

“Well, since you seem to be unwilling, we will bring our own priest,” Robin said. “Friar Tuck, if you would?”

Friar Tuck approached the pulpit, trying to look grave, but not succeeding very well. He announced the banns, not three, but seven times.

“In case three times isn’t enough!” he added. None of the people in the church, the Bishop included, said a word, though Robin could tell that the people approved of the interruption.

“Who gives this woman to this man?” asked Friar Tuck.
    “I do! And whoever would take her from Allen will answer to me!” called Robin.

“As do I.” said Lawrence, taking off his sword belt and putting it on Allen. “And they who would rob this girl would answer to me as well!”

Friar Tuck performed the wedding with gusto, happy to see a good woman and a good man joined together. The Bishop turned redder and redder by the moment.

“My Lord, perhaps you could use some fresh air,” said Robin in a stage whisper.

The Bishop puffed more.

“Or perhaps you’re too warm! You might feel lighter if you removed that huge chain from your neck.”

The Bishop visibly recoiled. “You would rob the Church?!”

“No, I’m merely saying that perhaps a wedding present would be in order. She is your ward, after all!”

The Bishop, muttering, handed over the large chain and ruby to Robin, who gave it to Ellen.

“Isn’t that better?” Robin said to him. “And that chain was certainly not your style, look how well it looks on Ellen!”

    Marian nodded, smiling a bit cheekily. “Come along, smile, Ellen, now no one will take Allen from you. Someone ring those bells!”

The bells rang out over the village as the joyous party ran out of the church.

“Huzzah! They did it!” cheered Ablach.

Sir Lawrence shook hands with Allen and kissed Ellen’s hand before getting on his horse and riding away. As he rode off, he looked at the apple tree in the churchyard. Wait, did it… move? Lawrence rubbed his eyes; he must be getting old.  

Robin led the way out of the church and into the forest, passing Ablach on the way by.

“Come on, old man, it’s time for the feast!” Robin called to the apple man.

“Who is he talking to, Allen?” Ellen asked.

“I’ll introduce you once we’re back at the clearing, love. It’s a very long story.”