Medieval Midlife Crisis

Another old story from writing class. This assignment was to take an established well-known character and change their situation/location like Luke Skywalker in a stone age setting fighting cavemen.

Medieval Midlife Crisis

 

            “The Band. I’ll get the band back together!”

            “Snap out of it Rob! Your days with the band were once upon a very long time ago,” Marian, Robin’s wife, said.   

Rob’s hair hung over his shoulders as it did in his younger, audacious years, but gray now tinged his temples and his forehead had expanded with male-pattern baldness. Now approaching his fiftieth birthday, graying, thinning hair was not the only thing bothering Rob.

He turned to her. “No Marian, I’ve already decided. I’m going to get the band back together.”

 “Oh, great,” Marian said aside with a sarcastic edge. “I thought buying that shiny fast horse would snap you out of your crisis, but now you’re wanting to get the band back together? Consider the business, this place, everything you worked so hard for over the past thirty years.” She gestured. “Let the band memories rest in peace, and besides, you don’t know where all the Merry Men are anymore.”

            “You’re right about the Merry Men, but I always wondered how big the band may have become with a little more time. I need to go find them, and we can try again.”

 “Fine, don’t listen to me. Go find the guys, have a blast,” she said, stomping out.           Marian never spoke kindly of the band members because of their wild partying ways, though Rob knew Marian enjoyed the exciting lifestyle as the band’s number one devotee�"a Bandolier.

            Rob began packing his knapsack and recalled the band’s glory days. He took his mandolin down from the mantel and blew off the dust. He hadn’t touched it in half the years since the band broke up, and he hadn’t played it longer than that. He strummed the five strings. Horribly out of tune�"one loose string went “twang.”

 He remembered the band had prospered for a short time, disbanding rather quickly after they put the Sheriff of Nottingham away. Afterwards, Rob took over rightful ownership of the estate, and he and Marian wedded. He also had to admit the music the band played was rather lousy, though their “Takin’ from the Rich, Givin’ to the Poor” proved a very popular song at least in the local pubs. Rob supposed it helped that the band gave their plunder to their supporters�"the local poor people.

            Later, Rob heard a rider on a fast horse gallop out of the courtyard with hooves clattering on the cobblestones. Looking out the window, he saw that it was the castle’s messenger, but what caught his attention was that it was Marian seeing the rider off. Strange, she never sent Equine-Grams at that late hour.   

            Finally satisfied with his packing, he hoisted his bag and stepped down the stone turret stairs. Marian sat on the bottom step. Rob expected to see her red-eyed and sobbing, but she stood up rather contented. 

            “So, you are leaving on a quest to get the band back together,” Marian said, with her hands on her hips.                

            “Yep,” Rob said. “It’s my last chance for some glory. I have to do it.” He paused with the thought. “You seem rather accepting of the idea all of a sudden.”

            “I had time to think,” she said. “I realized that a man has to do the things he feels he must.” She took his hand. “I do remember those good times and though we are not the same people we were back then, maybe we can relive a few fun times again together�"when and if you get the band together.”

She kissed him on the cheek, but Rob did not understand his suddenly accepting, doting wife.

            “You used to wail on that mandolin,” she said, pointing at it his hand. “Still got it in you?”

            He shrugged. “I hope so with some practice.”

            “Before you go, we should have a bite at the Arrowed Apple Inn,” Marian suggested.

            “Sounds good,” said Rob. “Tuesday nights they have fat-braised pot roast with buttered spuds on special.”

            “I know, your favorite,” Marian said, squeezing him around the chubby belly.

            Together they walked down to the inn where they heard all sorts of cavorting inside.
            “What is going on tonight?” Rob wondered aloud. “It’s never this loud.”

            “Maybe someone got some rowdies together.”

            She smiled wide as they went through the open door, but Rob couldn’t believe his eyes�"all the Merry Men were inside.

            “What the�"”

            “Happy Band Reunion Day, Robin!” They shouted in unison.

            “You,” he pointed at a smiling Marian.

            “I planned the band reunion for weeks, but your sudden stubborn quest forced me to move up the date,” Marian shouted over the ruckus. “Happy Banding ever after, Robin darling.”