By Sian Ann Bessey, Author of The Maid of Sherwood Forest
During the many years I lived in the UK, I never visited Sherwood Forest. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to; it was more that I didn’t have a compelling reason to go there. Sherwood Forest was a long drive from North Wales and there were plenty of woodland areas near my home to satisfy my childhood desires to traipse through trees collecting bluebells, horse chestnuts, or sticks.
In 2023, my daughter invited me to join her family on a trip to England and Wales. Before planning the itinerary, she asked her husband and children to each choose one place they really, really wanted to visit. To my surprise, my son-in-law’s top pick was Sherwood Forest. I remember explaining to him that Sherwood Forest was no longer the vast, dense forest it had been during the Middle Ages, and that it was a considerable distance from all the other places we were planning to visit. But he was undeterred. And since he was our driver, Sherwood Forest made it onto our schedule.
On the day we arrived, the weather was clear but overcast. We stopped at the visitor’s center first. Along with the obligatory—and creative—souvenirs, the visitor’s center was filled with information about the forest and, of course, stories of Robin Hood and his Merry Men. The material on display filled me with fresh excitement for the old legends, and my desire to enter the forest itself became almost as strong as my son-in-law’s.
When my grandchildren’s enthusiasm for trying on Robin Hood hats and testing wooden bows and arrows began to wane, we exited the visitor’s center and took the path that led through the trees to the Major Oak. This tree—arguably Sherwood Forest’s most famous resident after Robin Hood—is estimated to be at least 1,000 years old. Its branches extend over 30 yards across and its trunk’s circumference is over 12 yards. Unfortunately, time has begun to take its toll, and many of the tree’s branches are now propped up by cables and posts. And yet, those physical helps do nothing to diminish the Major Oak’s grandeur. It has weathered centuries of storms and protected myriad travelers beneath its wide branches.
Legend has it that Robin Hood and his Merry Men often gathered beneath the Major Oak, and while I was there, I couldn’t help but wonder at the marvelous things the tree may have seen and heard. Did it listen to Robin and his men recounting their exploits as they thwarted the Sheriff of Nottingham? Did it watch them divide the coins they’d taken from the pride-filled rich to give to the suffering poor? Did it witness Robin and Marian’s budding romance? I like to think that it did. And though the historian in me would love to know which portions of the Robin Hood tales actually occurred, the romantic in me loves that no one—not even devoted scholars of the era—know for sure.
That day in Sherwood Forest, I felt again the wonder inherent in a timeless legend about a man who was willing to risk his life to serve the poor and a woman who proved to be his match in every way. I didn’t know that a couple of years later, I’d have the opportunity to write a time-slip story featuring those beloved characters, but as I stood across from that remarkable old tree, in the place where the legends were born, I experienced a rush of gratitude for long-forgotten storytellers and ballad singers throughout the centuries. Without them, the tales of Robin Hood and Maid Marian would surely be lost to us. And because of them, some of the secrets guarded for so long by the Major Oak are known and loved throughout the world.
NEW! The Maid of Sherwood Forest: Mariah thought Robin Hood was just a legend–until time pulled her into his world and the outlaw stole her heart.
Sian Ann Bessey was born in Cambridge, England, and grew up on the island of Anglesey off the coast of North Wales. She left her homeland to attend university in the United States, where she earned a bachelor’s degree in communications, with a minor in English. She is a USA Today best-selling author.
Sian and her husband, Kent, are the parents of five children and the grandparents of four girls and two boys. They live in Idaho, and although Sian doesn’t have the opportunity to speak Welsh very often anymore, Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch still rolls off her tongue.
