by Sara Ansted
"Just some boys playing," Isaiah called, now from a few yards away. "Come and see."
Why was Isaiah was so interested in having them watch the game? She had no idea, but she prodded the king until he stood and joined them. As quietly as they could manage with the king tromping along, they crossed the fifty yards to a sort of clearing. Five boys ran about, four of them with homemade toy bows.
The smallest boy chased the others with a stick that was meant to be a sword. There was a girl as well, who seemed to be just younger than the boy that led the bowmen. As the youngest chased them around, the girl called out things like "save me, save me!" and "oh, do be careful!"
Evey gathered that she was the damsel in distress.
After a few minutes of the chase, the leader barked out an order, and his three bowmen followers formed a semi-circle around him, halting the pursuer's progress. He used the distraction to sweep in and carry off the damsel. As soon as she was rescued, he returned to face the youngest boy, drawing a stick sword himself.
"Aw, can't I be Robin just one time?" the small one complained.
"The king is jealous of the mighty Robin Hood!" his brother announced, and his archers laughed.
"Fine, then. I'll be your stupid ole king. But don't hit me so hard this time."
Robin raised his stick sword to duel, and the king started to run in circles, screaming "help me, help me!" The archers laughed again, and the two started to fight. It wasn't long before Robin had run the king through, and left him gasping for breath on the forest floor. He and his men had a sort of victory dance, and then they returned to the damsel in the corner.
"Fair Marion!" called Robin, striking a most melodramatic pose. "Will you marry me?"
"Of course, Robin," she replied shyly, holding out her hand.
Robin took the hand and walked her to the center of the clearing, where one of the archers had traded his bow for an imaginary book. He performed a three second ceremony, and then pronounced them married. Robin leaned in and kissed his new bride right on the mouth. She squealed and pushed him away, wiping her mouth vigorously.
"You said it was only pretend!" she spluttered in disgust.
The boy blushed, and the other three laughed at him. The king, who had been lying dead all the while, sat up to join in. The newly-married Marion looked at him with an unforgiving stare for a few seconds, but it gradually faded into a bemused smile.
Evey could barely contain her amusement. She and Isaiah walked back to their campsite with the real king trailing behind them. As soon as they were far enough away, they both burst out laughing. Evey had to wipe tears from her eyes and Isaiah had fallen sideways, unable to hold himself up.
"That was the best thing I've ever seen," she gasped.
"Imagine, little fellows like that wanting to be us. Who'd have ever guessed?"
"Very flattering," she agreed.
"Not for me," the king added solemnly. "No one wanted to be me."
"Well..." Evey started, but she couldn't think of anything good to say about it.
"No, I'm beginning to understand. Children don't lie about things like that."
She looked at Isaiah, and he shrugged back. Not knowing what else to add, they got on with the day. After breakfast, they visited three more cottages before deciding to head to the next village. Evey noted with approval that the king paid closer attention to everything.
Around noon, they crossed through the center of the little town in order to use the road on the far side of it. They led their horses and walked slowly, to avoid attention. Luck was against them, though. Just past the square, two large men stepped in their way.
With a gasp, Evey recognized one of them as the same man who had beaten the blacksmith's wife in front of her. Her anger surged, but she couldn't let it show. She and Isaiah pulled their hoods closer, and tried to continue on as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"Oh, no you don't," shouted the first brute. "You're new here, so maybe you don't know. But everyone pays a tax."
"A tax for what?" Evey asked boldly.
"Existing. Who cares for what? Point is, you owe us, little lady," the second said with a lewd grin. Isaiah stepped in front of her defensively.
"I'm going to have to ask you two to step aside and allow us to pass." The king said in his authoritative, almost pompous voice. The men just laughed at him.
"Who we got here, then? Thinks he's somethin', don't he?"
"He's a friar." Evey replied, saying the first words that came to mind.
"Friar, eh?"
"That's right. Friar Tuckett. You wouldn't molest a man of the cloth, would you?" she asked in a tone that dared them to defy her.
"I don't care nothin' for the cloth," the first man answered, and he shoved the king to the ground so hard that he slid for several feet.
"I say," said the bewildered king.
"How dare you!" Evey shouted angrily, drawing several eyes from around the square. No one dared to step in, though. They just watched. Isaiah tried to pull her back, but she was too far gone.
"You have NO right! You two brainless brutes need to step down, or you'll regret it! Don't think you won't!"
"King says we do as we like, and you're what we like," the second man chuckled. "Let's see your pretty little face, eh?"
He grabbed Evey by the front of her cloak, and lifted her easily into the air. She beat his forearms and kicked at his chest furiously. To the giant of a man, it was just a minor annoyance. In frustration, she bit down hard on his hand, which did make a difference. He bellowed and tossed her even farther than the king.
She landed with a hard thump. The air had been knocked from her lungs, but she refused to let that stop her.
It took forty seconds to get back on her feet, and another ten to undo the knots that tied her bow to the horse. By the time she had an arrow knocked, Isaiah had disarmed the first soldier, and stood ready to face the other. He was breathing heavily and his right hand trembled, but his left, which held the sword, was absolutely steady.
His voice was low and even. "Touch them again, and it WILL be the last thing you ever do."
There was something dangerous in his stance, and the two men recognized it. Evey had only seen that side of him twice. He was normally so collected that it was hard to cross lines with him, but those two bullies just had.
They were smart enough to realize it and backed away, trying to pretend that it was just business as usual. No one who saw the exchange would have been fooled.
"What ruffians!" the king declared, once they were out of sight. "Can you believe that they had the audacity to use my name like that? As if I could sanction such boorish activity."
"But you HAVE!" Evey snapped at him. "Don't you get it! Are you so thick!?"
"Calm yourself, child."
"I will not. Not while you let Sir Guy do as he likes. And he lets them do as they like. You've effectively handed every one of those knights a free license to bully. It's not audacity to state the truth!"
The king cowered. She rode a few yards away so that she wasn't able to punch him off his horse. Isaiah still sat silent and glowering. His hood had fallen, and the full force of his fury was obvious to his companions. Every time Evey had something to say, she forced herself to hold it back, because it invariably involved a lot of yelling and many choice words.
All three companions were so flustered that they didn't dare enter the next village. It seemed almost wrong to give to the poor in such a mood. They just set up camp and stayed there, fuming and thinking, until the moon rose high in the sky.
"I'd like to go home now," the king said, after hours of silence.
"What?"
"Home. I think it's just about time."
"Not on my watch," Evey stood and folded her arms threateningly.
"Oh, you can stop playing the tough girl. The two of you aren't giving me much credit here."
Isaiah looked up from a sharpening stone. "Credit for
what?"
"You're treating me as though I were the village fool." The king frowned. "That isn't fair, you know. I understand everything you've been trying to explain to me."
Evey opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. "Please, just let me speak for a moment. I do understand. I know what you think about Sir Guy and the taxes. I see how the brutes we've met can be blamed on me. And I even see about the poor, and the hard times they've had lately.
"But times are hard everywhere. And you know as well as I that in any country there will be poorer towns and richer. I can't say from these three small villages that life is the same everywhere."
The king paused and took a deep breath.
"Recall your own words, Robin, about being wise. I feel as though I would need to visit every settlement in the land to get a truly accurate picture. There's no way that can happen in just a few days, so I need to be wise. I need to trust those who do know. Sir Guy is my advisor. I trust him."
"So you're saying we're liars?" Evey balled her fists, but before she could swing, Isaiah had her firmly by the wrist.
The king actually looked sad. "Of course not. I'm not such a fool. I can see through your bluster that you care about what happens to these people. But I wonder if you have the whole picture. Are you acting on your own advice, and trusting those who know more than you do?"
"But he is-" Evey started shouting, but Isaiah tightened his grip on her wrist.
"We're sorry, your majesty," he said solemnly. "You are right, in that regard. We've been watching this happen for months - years for Marion -and we just tried to cram those seven years of experience into mere days."
"Accepted." The king nodded his head. Then to Evey he asked, "You've been at this for seven years?"
"Almost eight," she muttered.
"Incredible."
"She is incredible." Isaiah let go of her wrist and took her hand. "That is what I'm hoping you'll see. We aren't liars. We just want what is best for our people. Will you trust us?"
The king nodded again. "Yes, I think I can. But you'll have to prove it."
"We aren't traitors!" Evey blurted.
"If you are truly loyal, then you'll do one thing for me. Take me home."
"We aren't traitors," Evey said again, this time low and fierce.
"Yes, your majesty." Isaiah's voice was a little too steady.
Evey kicked a small branch into the fire. Another plan had failed, and this time Isaiah had promised no more Robin Hood.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
Evey, Isaiah, John, and Will all sat with the king in their camp near the crossroads. They had already explained what had happened in their week apart, and only waited for David. Then together they would decide what to do next.
"I don't know about confronting Sir Guy," Evey mentioned. "I mean, he's not the sort to just admit when he's wrong, you know."
"I know. But we'll think of something," Isaiah said. She was about to reply when she was interrupted by a shout.
"Oh, good! You're here!"
David appeared, riding through the trees on a very tired looking horse.
"David! Excellent. We were just –" Will began, but he got immediately cut off.
"Sir Guy made his move last night. When he learned the king was gone, he took advantage of it. He's pronounced the throne officially vacant, and appointed himself the chief steward."
The king leapt to his feet. "Your brothers?"
"Missing. Maybe in the dungeons."
The king tried to reply, but David interrupted him.
"No time. There's a battle for the throne raging right now. All the loyal knights who wouldn't accept Sir Guy's plot were thrown out of the castle. They've formed up and attacked. And we need you NOW."
The others were at a loss for words. Without wasting any time, the five of them mounted their horses, weapons drawn, and rode for the castle as fast as they dared.
Things weren't going well for the loyal knights. They were badly outnumbered, and barely able to hold the one gate that they had managed to seize. The walls teemed with knights and soldiers that had taken up Sir Guy's offer. Even with their poor aim, the many crossbows wreaked havoc.
Without waiting for orders, John charged in, swinging his heavy hammer to great effect. Will followed with his deadly staff, and Evey soon lost them in the fray. The king, utterly bewildered, would have collapsed if he hadn't already been sitting on horseback.
Evey herself had never expected a full battle, but now that it was upon them she threw herself into it with a gleeful whoop. Standing in her stirrups, she charged forward at a full gallop, sending arrow after arrow over the crenelations. David and Isaiah followed, both drawing swords.
The best advantage that the king's knights had was their full armor. Nearly all of the knight's in Sir Guy's employ had appeared in various stages of half-armor. They'd probably been too busy drinking and bullying peasants as the battle started to have come fully protected. Many had hardly more than a mail shirt and a sword. Even with this advantage, however, the king's men fell at an alarming rate.
Evey suddenly realized that as long as she was on horseback, she could hardly help the odds. Her strongest skill was in the longbow, and she intended to use it to the fullest extent. She veered away from her friends and arrived at the outer wall, just beyond the gate.
Leaping from her horse, she clambered up the wall like a spider. This wall was much easier to climb than the inner tower she had attempted several weeks earlier. There were patches of ivy just starting to spread, and wider gaps between the stones. It wasn't until she was a few feet from the top that she realized how reckless her plan really was.
If she could have shrugged, she would have. She did what she did best and ignored the dangerous consequences as she vaulted herself over the edge and on to the walkway. Three men with empty crossbows stood staring at her in amazement. It was obvious that they had never seen anyone climb the wall like that.
They raced to load their bolts, but Evey was faster every time. The three were down in a matter of seconds. She whirled around to face the stairs on the inner part of the wall. She cleared them in another few seconds and shouted to the men on the ground.
Both sides looked bewildered to see her standing there, holding the stairs all on her own. The king's men understood, though, and charged for the temporarily open passage. Two minutes later, half a dozen rushed past Evey, clearing the rest of the crossbowmen with ease.
She turned her attention back to the battle for the gate, and began picking off Sir Guy's knights. She was in her element. Every dream she ever had about being brilliant in a real battle was now upon her. She was just about to fire another shot when something very solid slammed into her.
She fell forward, losing the grip on her bow. It skidded away, completely out of reach. Thinking fast, she pulled the dagger from her belt and rolled to her back. A giant of a man bore down on her with a battle axe.
He chopped at her before she had time to sit up. The dagger would do little to block his blows, so she rolled again, just clearing the area before the axe slammed into the stone. The man was much faster than he looked and had already swung again before she could stand. She rolled again, missing death by mere inches.
She had rolled into a corner. There was no way she could dodge another swing of the axe. She scrambled to get her feet under her, but the downward chop had already started. Expecting to feel the crushing pain at any moment, she focused on standing. If she was going to die, she wouldn't take it crouched pitifully in a corner.
But the blow never came. Before the giant knight could finish her off, he staggered and fell. Behind him stood one of the king's knights. She was about to thank him for saving her, when she realized who it was. Sir Robert nodded and ran off to rejoin the men who cleared the wall.
She stumbled to her bow and gasped for breath as she scanned the area. All thoughts of Sir Robert left her mind as she focused on the task at hand. She would have to find a w
ay to thank him later, without letting him know who she was.
Once the walls around the gate had been freed from crossbow men, the battle went much more smoothly. Despite their small numbers, the king's men forced their way into the castle, and eventually secured the courtyard.
She had no way of knowing how long the fighting had lasted. It could have been ten minutes, or several hours. All she knew for sure was that she was more tired than she had ever been in her life. Sprinting around, and having to defend herself with the sword as well as her bow was very taxing.
Finally, amidst the post battle confusion, she managed to locate Isaiah and Will. Isaiah's right shoulder was in bad condition, but he insisted that it was fine. It wasn't his sword arm anyway. Will also looked battered. Using a staff to fight armored and sword-wielding knights was not an easy task. But he was whole, anyway.
"Where's David? And John?" she asked them.
"I don't know," Isaiah answered. "The last I saw David, he was over–"
His face fell as he pointed to the right.
Evey turned, and her stomach turned to lead. The king knelt dejectedly over a prone figure. She sprinted over and skidded to her knees as well. David sputtered and took ragged, rattling breaths. His hands clutched at a wound in his side, just where the seam of his armor had been.
"David!" she cried. "Hang on. We'll get you fixed up."
David gave a wheezing cough, and attempted a feeble smile. She looked up at the king, who's face was stricken with grief. Immediately she pried David's hands away and inspected the injury. She had never been squeamish, but the sight that greeted her made her suck in a sharp breath.
"Don't worry 'bout me," he wheezed. "I'm heading out."
"Don't talk like that!"
"It's okay. I'm not afraid to go."
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't –"
David stopped her. "Take ca–" His words were interrupted by another fit of coughing, "Take care of business, alright. Finish what we started."
Evey nodded, and David turned to his father.
"I- I'm sorry. I should have been more up front with you. Maybe we wouldn't have had to fight."