Cottage in the forest

For many days I trekked through the King's forest known as Sherwood, in Nottinghamshire, fearing I was walking in circles. I was also nervous, for the paths I trod were reputed to be patrolled by vagabonds and cut-throats, not least the notorious outlaw know locally as Robin in the Hood. I was heading for the city of Nottingham, wherein my betrothed awaited me.

At one point I even tried to head back the way I had come, when I realized that I had lost my path entirely and so perforce determined to continue. At my wit's end through lack of food, I was both surprised and delighted to come upon a charming, though somewhat dilapidated, cottage set back a little from the forest path and half-covered in brambles. I could see welcome smoke drifting lazily from the ramshackle chimney, little more than a hole in the thatch.

Resolving to prevail upon the occupants for a hunk of bread and a draught from any well or spring in the vicinity, I approached the doorway. I admit I was still a little nervous of any welcome I might received and was startled by a black cat which appeared as if from nowhere as I approached. My fears were allayed however, as soon as the door was opened. For in its shade stood a haggard crone but one whose smile was as welcoming as it was sweet.

Eyeing me up and down and coming to some resolution, she invited me in. Nonetheless she looked over my shoulder and, this way and that, seemingly suspicious of some presence in the woods. No doubt she was as aware, as was I, of the rascal Robin and his inaptly named 'merry' men. Merry, I warrant, at the booty they would extract from any passing traveller, fortunate enough to live to tell the tale. Though reputation had it they seldom showed mercy to travellers such as I.

The lady invited me in and bade me sit at a seat of the softest straw I had ever rested my posterior upon, while she fussed over a surprisingly large bread oven. After a short delay she presented me with a wooden plate piled high with the most delicious savouries and sweetest cakes I had ever tasted. After my long walk their sustenance, combined with the flagon of ale she proffered, left me heavy eyed.

“You take your ease sir,” said the crone. "You look in need of a good sleep and I have some more baking to do before I attend to market in the morning."

"Why, Nottingham market is your destination on the 'morrow, madam?" I asked, delighted. "For it is there that I am headed, or would be if I but knew the correct path to take. If I might accompany you I could perhaps share your burden."

"Lord love you sir, but I have been carrying an apron of bakery upon my head these sixty-odd years. I'll be needing no help carrying my wares, but you are welcome to give me company, should you choose to."

With pleasant thoughts of reaching the safety of the city and the arms of my beloved, I relaxed into a pleasant doze that turned into a long and dreamless sleep. I was startled awake by two urchins.

“Thank the Lord you are safe,” exclaimed the boy. “We thought the hag had poisoned you.”

"Poisoned me?" I said in astonishment. "Why ever would she do that? She very kindly fed and watered me and bade me rest, despite not knowing me from Eve's husband."

"Why sir, she is plainly a witch in disguise. Did you not see the black cat in the garden, her familiar?"

"Witch, my eyes!" I exclaimed, then realised for the first time that my hostess was nowhere to be seen. “Where is the dear lady?” I asked, with concern.

They both looked sheepishly at the oven, now belching a filthy black smoke.

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