A Hoboken Hipster In Sherwood Forest
will divide your loyalty. Not to mention, they never come alone. If I let her stay, tomorrow I am sure the place will be crawling with your wives and girl children. No. You have said your piece, milady. Now please, go back to your village and leave us be."
    Wow. This is an interesting morsel. I stare at Robin. He really has a thing against chicks, huh? Thank goodness he doesn't know what I really am or I'd so be tossed out into the wild. And then where would I be? No safe place to go. With all the poverty here I doubt anyone else would agree to take me in and feed me. And it's not like I have a good skill-set to fall back on to get any sort of job. Magazine photographer isn't exactly a lucrative 12th-century career.
    Nope. If I don't keep up this eunuch charade, I'm toast.
    Much the Miller steps out feebly from the shadows. "Come along, my dears,” he mumbles, trying to take his wife by the arm. "I will lead ye home."
    But the woman stands fast and the boy stubbornly clings to her skirts. "Nonsense, my dear husband," she says, crossing her meaty arms under her chest. The move succeeds in accentuating her cleavage—something not lost on a single merry man in camp, I'd wager, judging by the wide eyes around me. “'Tis late and the roads are dark and dangerous—crawling with thieves and wild beasts," she says, evidently the only one willing to stand up to Robin. I guess it makes sense. She has the least to lose. Though Much is looking like he'd be perfectly happy to crawl under a rock and die at this point. "Would you save the child one moment, only to kill his mother the next? Would that please you? To have my son grow up without a mother?"
    You tell him! I smile to myself, admiring the woman's courage. Score one for Mrs. Much.
    "If you truly cared for your safety, you should not have come in the first place," Robin counters stubbornly.
    Grr . He's clearly not going to give in without more persuasion. And while it's not exactly my strong point, I suddenly feel compelled to come to the aid of my fellow sister soul.
    "Duh. She came to thank you," I find myself interjecting. Not that I have much hope it'll work. I mean, if he won't even listen to his own men, how can I really expect Rob to listen to me, a virtual stranger? "She appreciates what you did to save her son's life. And do you say, 'You're welcome'?" I ask. "Do you say, 'Stay and have a drink with the men'? No, you ungrateful bastard. You think it's totally fine to just send her away, even though you know for a fact she could end up being eaten by a lion, a tiger or bear—"
    Oh my! I stop talking and hold my breath, realizing I just came off way too strong for my own good. I mean, what if Robin decides to throw me out of the camp with her? Then where will I be? Probably dead. I wonder what happens if I die back in the 12th century. Will I zip back to the 21st? Or is it game over? And if I die, what will happen to Kat? Will Nimue send someone else to get the Grail? Or is the fashionista SOL?
    This time-travel stuff is way confusing.
    I gather my courage and steal a glance at Robin. I offer him a sheepish smile, praying it will work.
    "Sorry. Got carried away," I say with a small shrug. "All that church learning, I guess. Do unto others, turn the other cheek, all that jazz."
    Robin continues to glower at me for a moment, then his expression lightens and he starts to laugh.
    "You are brave and outspoken, young Christian," he says, shaking his head. "I would surely kill you—if you did not remind me so much of myself."
    He slaps me on the back, almost knocking me over. Then he turns back to Much and his wife. "Very well then," he says. "You may stay. But I want you gone at first light, woman. The moment the sun peeks through the trees and you deem it is safe to travel. And do not return," he adds. "Next time I shall not be so generous."
    The camp erupts in cheers. Several of the men pat me on the back as we make our way again to the firepit. Allan a Dale picks up his

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