Hellooo!

On the 31st of August we get to read or LISTEN to a new book from Matthew Ward The Queen of Eventide. A contemporary fantasy set in Nottingham where a young woman finds herself the centre of a battle of mythic forces and discovers a strange magical realm named Eventide that overlaps our reality. My review will be out nearer publication date but I think I can advance booktempt you that it is highly enjoyable and deeply atmospheric with some lovely characters to meet and fear. In particular I’m enjoying the audiobook version expertly narrated by the very impressive Kristen Atherton (and I’m not usually a long audio reader).

For today’s stop on the blog tour Matthew talks about one source inspiration and if you listen carefully you can hear Clannad in the background….

It’s always difficult trying to explain where stories come from. They’re all such mishmashes of stray ideas, character beats, moods and moments – the building blocks of “Aha! What about this?” and “I always wanted to do that!”  Even if you set out to do your own version of an existing story, you find your characters, plots and throughlines simply refuse to do as they’re told.

What’s a writer to do?

Personally, I fire up Bloodborne or a Dark Souls title and glare at the screen for a few hours until I have the answer, but that’s besides the point.

While I can’t quite say where Queen of Eventide’s story comes from (if nothing else, the end result is very different from what I had in mind when I started), I know precisely where it gets its mood. It’s a Robin Hood story, and for my generation there are really only two Robin Hood stories of any influence. 

The first is Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves, a masterclass in wandering accents, remembered more for the undead tenacity of Bryan Adams’ (Everything I do) I do it for You title track vis-a-vis the pop charts, and Alan Rickman’s frenzied scenery chewing, than its title character.

Queen of Eventide’s a love letter to the other one.

Robin of Sherwood ran for three seasons between 1984 and 1986 for a total of 24 episodes. The brainchild of Richard Carpenter, it’s a retelling of the Robin Hood legends with a decidedly mystical bent. 

While all the classic elements of the legends can be found here, Carpenter’s Sherwood Forest is a place of wonder and mystery. Yes, it’s a kingdom of despotic overlords, vicious mercenaries and avaricious priests, but it’s also a land of gathering mist and shadows that fall strangely beneath the trees; of brooding stone circles and cursed villages, dwindled gods and evil sorcerers, diabolic pacts, witches and ravenous spirits …

All wrapped up in a wonderful Clannad soundtrack and presented as family teatime entertainment! Mary Whitehouse’s puritanical Viewers and Listeners association denounced it for its violence and supernatural aspects. I loved it.

In this version, Robin (Michael Praed) the son of an Anglo-Saxon nobleman murdered by the Sheriff of Nottingham (Nikolas Grace, enjoying his every moment on screen), takes up the mantle of the Hooded Man at the behest of Herne the Hunter (John Abineri) to fight the oppressive Norman occupiers and restore hope to the common people.

Several traditional Merry Men join him along the way: Maid Marion (Judi Trott), Little John (Clive Mantle), Friar Tuck (Phil Rose), Much (Peter Llewellyn Williams), and Will Scarlet (Ray Winstone), as well as new addition Nasir (Mark Ryan), a displaced saracen from the Holy Land. Week after week, they oppose the machinations of the Sheriff and his permanently-angry right hand, Sir Guy of Gisburne (Robert Addie), as well the aforementioned sorcerers, witches … and even Lucifer himself.

It’s action adventure fare, with all the running through forests, shooting longbows and sword-fighting a good Robin Hood story should offer. The stories tend towards the simple, but given the target audience that’s no bad thing; there’s nothing wrong with a simple story well-told, and most of these are very well told indeed. The phrase “Nothing’s forgotten. Nothing’s ever forgotten.” is the series’ mantra, uttered as a promise that the old ways won’t be destroyed and the dead will be remembered.

The fight scenes are nicely choreographed, lavishing acts of derring-do on the various heroes and leavening a little point of view camera work from time to time. It’s almost entirely filmed on location, and there are some suitably impressive locations on display – most memorably Alnwick Castle standing in for Nottingham.

And it’s funny. The outlaws veer convincingly between playfulness, bickering and banter. Ray Winstone’s Will Scarlet is a particular standout – he’s never less than restless, and slides towards homicidal with gleeful ease – but there are plenty of understated moments alongside. There’s also a nameless prisoner in Nottingham’s dungeon who constantly refuses rescue, and exhorts everyone he meets to “Say hello to Arthur” his pet rat and plenty of wry moments to be had. 

But when it comes to humour, the baddies steal the show. The Sheriff of Nottingham is always a delight to watch, whether bickering with Gisborne, toadying to King John or quarrelling over inheritances with his brother, Abbot Hugo. As for King John himself, Phil Davis delivers such a memorably unhinged performance he casts a far larger shadow than his three appearances would suggest. 

(In fact, given that Robin Hood Prince of Thieves more or less lifted the character of Nasir from Robin of Sherwood, it’s likely that Alan Rickman’s turn as the Sheriff of Nottingham owes a lot to Nikolas Grace and Phil Davis.)

Of course, it’s not perfect. We’re talking about a show that’s crowding 40 years old, made with a fraction of the time and money it would command today. Most episodes are a little slow compared to current standards (or perhaps not, because we seem to be drifting into an age of decompressed storytelling), and some facets – notably Marion’s passivity in some of the episodes – haven’t aged well. There’s plenty of knitted chainmail on display, and some impressive lateral thinking in the props (the Sheriff of Nottingham’s chain of office is a series of biscuits painted gold).

When everything comes together, Robin of Sherwood is haunting, even profound. Canny camera work and practical effects summon magic beneath the trees. Acts of ritual – such as the outlaws loosing flaming arrows into a misty lake to commemorate their dead – carry a wonderful resonance.

What Robin of Sherwood leaves you with, more than anything else, is a mood – a sense that not only are there causes worth fighting for, but that those fights can be won, so long as you fight them in good company and with heart. The world it weaves stays with you long after the credits have rolled, the mists of Sherwood always ready to part to reveal Herne’s antlers or a camp fire crackling beneath the open sky. It is freedom. It’s a world that never was and never will be, but for forty-five minutes at a time, you can walk it.

Nothing’s forgotten. Nothing’s ever forgotten.

About Matthew Ward

Cat-servant and owner of more musical instruments than he can actually play (and considerably more than he can play well), Matthew Ward is also the author of the Legacy Trilogy and the forthcoming Soulfire Saga. He’s also the architect of Coldharbour, and a roaming Creative Consultant and Voice Director in video game land.