Cocking her head gently to the side, Marion let her eyes slip down on Little John. He wasn't the Friar, she told herself. Nor was he even remotely clo...e to being a holy man. He was a sweet, dear man, however. And large. Quite large.She'd often had fantasies about larger men, as Robin was more spry and slender than large. She was never dissatisfied with Robin's shape or size (in body or otherwise), but there was always a wonder of what it would be like to be with a larger man, a bigger man. More. We entered on the long side of this building. The first thing that hit you was the human heads that were hanging around the walls.I whispered to Marjorie, "Are they head hunters?"Marjory whispered back to me, "The Celts always take the head of a brave enemy, some you may see wearing heads hanging on their belts. Don't mention the heads as they are proud to display them."God! I thought. Here was me thinking that it was only savages from South America and the East Indies who hunted. More

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