Ghosts of Sherwood

by T. S. Maynard

  “How long were we in there?” Sean asked.

  “I don’t know, but there’s no sign of whatever was howling. C’mon, I need to get back to the office.” Alex marched back out of the clearing.

  Sean hurried up and tugged on his dad’s arm. “Maybe that’s who I heard calling for help.” He pointed to the other side of the tree line, where a young boy in a red hoodie skipped along a trail.

  Alex waved his hands towards the boy to get his attention. “Hey.”

  The boy didn’t respond and disappeared into the woods.

  “He seems fine now. Let’s get back to the house. We have to get on the road.”

  Alex and Sean hustled through the forest, ducking in and around trees. As they trekked further, the ground grew soggier until they were walking in a thick marsh.

  “Are we going the right way?” Sean asked.

  Alex lifted his designer shoes off the wet mud. “You’re right. We must’ve come from the other side of the cabin.”

  They scampered back to the clearing but only found grass surrounded by marshland.

  “I could’ve sworn this was where the cabin was.” Alex surveyed the area. “Did it rain last night or something?”

  “There’s a trail over there.” Sean pointed to a small dirt trail no wider than a foot.

  “At least it’s dry.” Alex led Sean to the trail.

  After a half-hour of hiking, Alex scanned the strange forest around them. The trail led to a fork with a much larger pathway. “Now, which way?” Alex asked.

  “You boys lost?”

  Alex and Sean startled as they whirled around to find a man, not over three feet tall, standing behind them. Dressed in simple handmade animal skins, he carried a walking stick and spoke with a heavy English accent.

  “Who are you, sir?” Alex asked.

  “I’m John Littleman. Nice to make yer acquaintance.”

  “Likewise. I’m Alex, and this is my son, Sean. Can you tell us where we are?”

  “Depends on who you ask. Some would say the majestic wetlands of Nottingham. I say you’re in a swamp.”

  “A swamp?” Alex asked.

  “Wetlands sounds nicer. See, the Sheriff of Nottingham bought a bunch of land yonder.” John pointed down the trail. “He’s building a community of thatched huts. ’Tis harder to sell homes overlooking a swamp.”

  “The Sheriff of Nottingham?” Alex chuckled under his breath. “Did my father put you up to this?”

  “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him.”

  Alex shook his head. “Then I must be dreaming.”

  John smacked Alex in the crotch with his stick.

  Alex doubled over in pain. “Why’d you do that?”

  “To prove you weren’t dreaming,” John said.

  Still grimacing, Alex replied, “A pinch would’ve worked fine.”

  John stepped toward Alex to oblige his request, but Alex covered up.

  “Got it. Not dreaming. Can you tell us how to get back to Lloyd Van Owen’s house?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t know where that is, lad.”

  “It’s on Hastings,” Alex said.

  John rubbed his chin. “Not familiar with that territory.”

  “How about the cabin that’s around here? Can you point us in that direction?”

  John looked around. “There’s a cabin around here?”

  “Yes, it’s kind of old and rickety—in the middle of a clearing.”

  “Oh. You mean like one of the thatched huts that the Sheriff is building?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  John pointed again down the trail leading right. “Go that way. Best of luck to you, boys.” John trotted off down the path in the opposite direction, leaving Alex and Sean to continue their search.

  After twenty more minutes of trudging along, Alex and Sean came upon a field with a bevy of half-constructed straw huts.

  Alex threw his hands up towards the flimsy homes. “This isn’t what we’re looking for.”

  Behind them, a shrill voice screamed, “Help! Police! Somebody, please help!” It sounded like a woman in distress.

  A supply wagon pulled by two donkeys careened down the trail out of control. A portly man sat atop, struggling to steer the animals. “Help! Police!” he squealed at the top of his lungs.

  Alex grabbed Sean and dove to the side as the carriage raced past. The man tried to navigate the turn, but the top-heavy carriage tipped over and ejected him off. He sailed through the air and splashed down in a patch of soggy mud.

  Alex rushed over to make sure the man was okay.

  “Help! Please help. I’m being attacked!” the man pleaded.

  “By who?” Alex asked.

  The man pointed a shaky finger toward the tree-line. “Pixies!”

  “So, it’s pixies now.” Alex stood up and called out, thinking this was all an elaborate prank. “I don’t know why Lloyd is doing all this, but enough is enough.”

  From the trees, a small group of strange creatures emerged. At first glance, they appeared to be dragonflies, but as the tiny creatures moved closer into view, they looked like miniature humans with light purple skin, pointy ears, and translucent wings. The pixies used their wings to keep airborne long enough to pilfer supplies from the wagon.

  Alex rubbed his eyes as his jaw dropped.

  “Don’t just stand there. Help,” the man commanded.

  Alex and Sean grabbed some lumber from the wagon to defend themselves. They stepped toward the pixies who did nothing to attack or pose a threat. Instead, they fluttered away into the brush.

  Sean turned his attention to the man who was busy wiping mud from his elegant clothing and gaudy diamond-studded belt buckle with the engraved letters “SN.”

  “Are you okay, mister?”

  The man shrieked, “Do you not see my clothes?”

  Alex drifted over in a stupor. “Those bugs looked like tiny people.”

  “They were pixies, Dad,” Sean said.

  “There’s no such thing as pixies,” Alex barked, trying to convince himself as much as Sean.

  “I wish.” The man wiped a gloop of mud off his shirt. “This is silk. It’s... ruined. I feel like a commoner. You probably don’t even recognize me.” The man stole a glance at Alex and Sean, who looked dumbfounded. “You really don’t recognize me?” He reached into a sack near the wagon, produced what looked like a baseball card, then handed it to Alex.

  The card showed a picture of the man wearing a velvet cap, flowing fur cloak, closed shoes, and diamond-studded belt buckle in front of a chateau.

  “I’ll let that sink in.” The man winked at Alex. “That’s a collectible, by the way. Part of a set that includes every one of my real estate ventures.”

  Alex and Sean stared at the card, confused.

  The man threw up his hands. “Come on, really? I’m the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

  “If you’re the Sheriff, why were you calling for the police?” Alex asked.

  The Sheriff swiped the card back. “I was calling for backup. No one man could hold off those lawless devil creatures.”

  “They looked kind of cute,” Sean said.

  The Sheriff pointed a finger at Sean and growled. “The only things worse are nymphs and sprites. Those fiendish creatures constantly steal my supplies. It’s eating into the profit margin on my biggest development.”

  Alex rubbed his head. “This can’t be happening. This is just like my dad’s stories.”

  “Excuse me?” the Sheriff asked.

  “Nothing. Do you know how to get to Richmond, Virginia?” Alex asked.

  “Is that where they’re building the new franchise for Sir Lancelot?” The Sheriff looked out yonder and waved his left hand with a flourish, as if he could see the name in lights. “LancéPlots.”

  “No,” Alex said.

  The Sheriff pulled himself to his feet. “Then, I don’t know how to get to Richmond.”

  “What’s a franchise?” Sean asked.

&n
bsp; The Sheriff touched his heart. “Oh, franchises are marvelous. They’re colonies based on King Arthur’s Camelot. Anywhere you go, you can take comfort in reaching a place that is exactly like the place you just left. I have to go back to King Arthur’s Camelot to resupply, so you’re welcome to come.”

  Sean nearly jumped out of his shoes. “Camelot! This is unbelievable.”

  Alex muttered, “You took the words out of my mouth.”

  “‘Tis a good time to visit, too. They’re having the summer festival. Just need a little help here, tipping the wagon back over.” The Sheriff motioned to the wagon, then to Alex and Sean.

  They both nodded, willing to help. As the trio stepped to the wagon, the Sheriff deftly stepped past the wagon, then crouched down and put his hands on his knees to “oversee” the endeavor.

  “Now, push,” he said.

  Alex eyed the Sheriff, annoyed, while he and Sean leaned into the wagon. “Push. Puuush!” The Sheriff grunted as if he was lifting.

  Alex and Sean put all their weight into the effort, and the wagon tilted. Alex continued staring at the Sheriff, hoping he’d take the hint and help. He didn’t.

  “C’mon now. Lift with your legs,” the Sheriff said.

  The wagon tilted further until it rolled over and was back upright.

  “All right. We did it!” The Sheriff clapped his hands, then re-set the reins. He hopped into the front seat, tapped the seat next to him, and pointed to Sean to sit next to him. Alex had no choice but to sit in the back where the supplies used to be.

  The Sheriff cracked the reins, and the two donkeys began pulling the wagon away. Both Alex and Sean exhaled, grateful to be off their feet. For the first time on this strange adventure, they soaked in the forest’s beauty. The shades of green popped almost magically in the morning sunlight.

  “So, how do you get a franchise?” Sean asked.

  The Sheriff’s eyes lit up with delight. “Money! Lots of money.” He then turned his attention back to the donkeys and shrugged. “Or, you can be awarded one for bravery.”

  Sean perked up. “Do you get to be a knight of the round table, too?”

  “You betcha, provided you pay 50% of the bottom line to King Arthur.”

  Sean looked at the Sheriff, confused. “Why does he need all that money?”

  “For starters, to build up the kingdom’s defenses against the evil sorcerer, Robin of the Dark Hood.”

  “Robin Hood is good,” Sean protested. “He steals from the rich and gives to the poor.”

  The Sheriff shook his finger at Sean in a scolding manner. “Stealing is never good, and you shouldn’t believe everything you read. You probably think I’m an evil Sheriff.”

  Sean averted his eyes.

  The Sheriff shook his head. “Unbelievable. I got into one disagreement with Robin, and I’m the bad guy.”

  “What happened?” Sean asked.

  The Sheriff rolled his eyes, irritated to retell the story. “As you may have heard, Robin and his friends are merry men. They like to stay up late partying, but noise ordinances exist for a reason.”

  Alex couldn’t stop himself from piping up. “So, your whole legendary rivalry is over a noise complaint?”

  The Sheriff glared back at Alex. “As sheriff, I have to take such complaints seriously, even if they’re called in by me. I banned him from Sherwood Forest.”

  “Being loud doesn’t make him an evil sorcerer,” Sean said.

  “He turned to sorcery a short time later, but it wasn’t because of me. It was because of The Magician.”

  “So, now there’s a magician?” Alex asked, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  The Sheriff responded with his own condescending tone. “Not that kind of magician. He’s a prophet that preached about an invisible force that directs everything in the world—a divine being, if you will, whose hand guides Camelot.”

  “Why didn’t Robin and The Magician get along?” Sean asked.

  “Jealousy, of course. The Magician taught people how to make their own money, so they didn’t need Robin Hood anymore. He got so angry that he tried to kill The Magician.” The Sheriff flashed his eyes for dramatic effect.

  “Robin Hood killed him?” Sean asked, now worried.

  “Fear not, young lad. The Magician escaped to another realm. From that realm, he watches over us, but one day he will return. Robin couldn’t fight The Magician and his invisible powers with weapons, so he turned to sorcery.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Sean said.

  Alex patted Sean on the shoulder. “For once, we agree. There has to be a logical explanation.”

  The Sheriff jerked the reigns, stopping the donkeys. Atop a lush green hill, a majestic castle glistened in the sunlight. Alex and Sean were awestruck.

  It was Camelot.

  Chapter 4

  The white walls of Camelot reflected the sunlight in all directions, creating a brilliant glow. The roofs of the turrets were painted a magnificent, sparkling ocean blue. It was everything Alex and Sean imagined it to be.

  “Wow! It’s real!” Sean marveled. “Can you believe this, Dad?”

  “It can’t be.” Alex stared, unable to take his eyes off the glorious castle for even a second.

  Even the Sheriff soaked up the view. “Takes my breath away every time.” After enjoying the splendor for a moment longer, the Sheriff turned back to Alex. “So, you saved my life, and I gave you a lift. Shall we call it even?”

  Alex had no interest in debating the absurdity of the statement. “Sure, but can you take us all the way up?”

  “As I’ve explained repeatedly, I’m a very important man. It might be awkward if you’re seen riding in my carriage, given your lower class and all, so…” The Sheriff nodded his head to the side. “Off you go.”

  “Come on, Sean.” Alex climbed out of the wagon.

  Sean jumped to the ground and as soon as he landed, the Sheriff snapped the reigns and hurried on. Alex and Sean hiked the last quarter of a mile, and with each step, the anticipation grew. Finally, they passed through the massive wooden gates and found themselves inside Camelot. They walked down a paved road lined with small shops, street performers, and vendors.

  Alex took it all in, and the spectacle transported him back to his childhood. A giant smile spread across his face. “This is absolutely amazing.”

  Dressed in expensive Victorian-style clothing, the citizens of Camelot flooded Alex and Sean with judgmental sneers.

  A wife gossiped to her husband as they passed by. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  The husband replied, “There go property values.”

  Alex approached an old man who avoided eye contact. “Excuse me?”

  The old man held up his empty hands. “Sorry, I can’t spare any change. I left my wallet in my other pantaloons.”

  “I just need directions to Richmond,” Alex said.

  The old man shrugged and hurried away.

  Alex called out to anyone who would listen. “Excuse me. Has anyone heard of Richmond?”

  Some people stared, others ignored him, and a few scurried away in fear.

  Alex grimaced. If Sean and he were to find their way home, they’d have to do it themselves. “We need a map,” he said before spotting the castle’s keep and a placard that read “Franchises Sold Here.” Alex grabbed Sean’s hand and led him to the keep. “I have an idea.”

  Upon entering, the two found a regal receiving area that looked like a cross between a bank and a hotel lobby. Several noblemen paced the carpeted hallways, sipping tea and mingling.

  “May I help you?” a haughty English voice asked.

  Alex turned and found a man with a pencil-thin mustache and slicked-back hair wearing a mustard-colored neckerchief and a name tag that read “Francis.” He sat in a small office and cast a critical stare from behind his polished and immaculate oak desk. To his left, a credenza contained intricate models and paintings of small castle franchises.

  “Yes, Francis, we’re looking t
o buy a franchise.” Alex led Sean to the office.

  Francis flicked his wrist toward the door like he was shooing a fly away. “Perhaps you’re looking for the mobile housing units outside the castle walls.”

  “No, we’re in the market for a franchise.” Alex held his ground. This wasn’t his first rodeo dealing with a jerk on an ego trip.

  Francis sneered, “The minimum price is one thousand gold coins.”

  Sean’s eyes bulged. “A thousand gold coins!”

  Francis pursed his lips into a coy smile. “By that reaction, I shall assume that you do not have a thousand gold coins.” He then mumbled under his breath and rolled his eyes. “And I’m guessing from those clothes that you don’t even have one.”

  “We don’t have gold coins, but we have money,” Alex said.

  “We accept gold bars, ingots, and bullion,” Francis said and drawled out “bullion,” his favorite form of payment because it sounded snooty and elitist.

  “Do you take dollars?” Alex asked.

  Francis happily rejected, “No, gold.”

  “What about stocks?” Alex offered.

  Francis shook his head with a smirk. “Gold.”

  “Do you take credit cards?” Alex whipped out his American Express gold card from his wallet.

  Francis swatted it away. “That’s not gold. That’s a flimsy piece of plastic.”

  Alex struggled for something else that might work. “I have a gold ETF in my 401k account.”

  Francis jeered, “That sounds like something you made up.”

  “I didn’t make it…” Alex caught himself with his own words, then muttered, “I almost forgot where I was.” He cleared his throat and declared, “I have a goose…”

  Francis hung on Alex’s words, poised and excited to reject him.

  Alex continued, “… and my goose lays golden eggs.”

  Francis looked long and hard at Alex.

  Sean tugged on his father’s arm and whispered, “We have a…”