“Excuse me, but do you think you could get Goliath to back off?” Professor Lucas grunted.
Melody giggled. “Oh yes, I almost forgot, the dog lover is John Lucas.”
Amanda watched Robyn’s dog lick the professor across the face. He winced as gobs of doggy drool dripped off his cheek.
Robyn laughed. “Leave off, Tuck! Let the man up, Jean.”
Jean spun his staff around like a seasoned pro and offered a huge hand to Professor Lucas. He took it with a little hesitation and was launched back on his feet in under a second.
The professor checked over his hand. “Thanks. Uh, Jean, is it?”
The big man smiled. “Jean le Nailor.” Then he pulled back his hood to reveal short black hair, dark blue eyes, a long nose, and a strong, square jaw.
“Are you from France, Jean?” Melody inquired, pointing to the fleur-de-lis on his cloak.
Jean turned, bowed toward Melody, and said, “Yea, milady Melody. ’Tis where I met Robyn. We marched in the Crusade together.”
Professor Lucas was busy brushing himself off when he abruptly stopped. “Crusade? Do you mean the Children’s Crusade of 1212?” he asked in astonishment.
Robyn nodded. “My father was killed in the Crusades when I was but a child. When I became of age, my mother sent me to her relations in France to be trained as a knight. While I was there, a young man called Stephen rallied the children to take up banners and join him to recover the Holy Land. I felt it was my duty to my father to follow this brave lad.”
“But didn’t that Crusade end in disaster with many children losing their lives or being sold into slavery?” Professor Lucas asked.
Jean banged his staff into the ground. “Zounds, ’tis true! Many times I saw death on a child’s face. Robyn and I made the journey to Marseille, only to find out that most of us were to be shipped to the east as slaves. We escaped with the help of a kind French monk called Tuck, who gave us his dog to see to our protection.”
Amanda stifled a giggle. It figures. The story of Friar Tuck got all twisted around by the local rumor mongers of the middle ages. She looked down at Friar Tuck’s namesake, who appeared content licking his furry privates. Amanda rolled her eyes and looked elsewhere.
“Why would you guys need Tuck for protection?” Jordan asked sarcastically. “You do just fine waving that stupid crossbow and staff around at people.”
Robyn’s face hardened. He tightened the grip on his crossbow. “Why dost thou ask many questions? Art thou the sheriff’s spies?”
Treena laughed nervously. “Spies? Us? Good one, Robyn!”
Jean la Nailor inclined his head. “Good…one?”
“Uh, what Treena meant to say is that we’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Robyn,” Drake explained. “Isn’t that right, guys?”
Everyone nodded.
“Such as?” Robyn probed, as he deliberately pointed his crossbow at Jordan.
Jordan bit his lip. “Uh, things like…like—”
“Things like helping a damsel in distress,” Amanda said, tapping her chest.
Robyn lowered his crossbow and softened his features. “I thank thee for thy kindness, milady Amanda, but truth be told, I arrived too late to help my mother.”
“Why? What happened to your mother?” Drake asked softly.
Robyn sighed. “When I returned to my French relations, they had received news that my mother was ill. Jean, a shepherd by trade, had no home to go back to, so he made the journey with me to Loxley, in Warwickshire. My mother died before I got home.” Robyn paused to cross himself. “She…She was a goodly woman who cared for others. She arranged for me to stay with Sir Robert Fitzooth, a close friend of my father’s, who lives in Nottingham. Sir Robert is kind, but he is ailing. To honor my mother, I help by taking care of his household needs.”
Jean chuckled. “Is that so, Hodekin? Do Sir Robert’s household needs include his daughter, Miriam?”
Robyn’s face turned beet red.
Treena gasped. “Miriam? Maid Miriam?”
Jean grinned. “The fairest maid, according to Robyn.”
Robyn threw down his crossbow and jumped the unsuspecting giant. Even Tuck backed off. Fists flew, arms flailed, and bodies rolled. Melody was there in an instant. She picked up Jean’s staff, shoved it between the scrapping boys, and tried to pry them apart. It almost worked. What Melody hadn’t counted on was Jean shifting his weight and pushing the staff back with enough force to send her sailing head first into Professor Lucas. He grimaced from the impact, as he attempted some funky dance moves backward until he stepped on top of Robyn’s discarded crossbow. Click—the arrow was instantly launched.
“Duck, Ravi!” Amanda yelled.
The arrow sliced through the air. Ravi ducked as Jordan raced toward him. Amanda heard branches snapping, accompanied by a great thud that shook the ground. She looked up to catch sight of the biggest deer she’d ever seen thrashing on the ground, trying to fight off death with its long, powerful legs. The arrow had pierced its eye. It thrashed in the bushes like a salmon on a hook for all of five seconds until it lay still.
“OMG! Professor Lucas killed Bambi!” Treena screamed.
“Aye! Great shot, John Lucas!” Robyn yelled, as he roughly clapped the professor on the back. “The table will be full tonight!”
Jean guffawed. “And many nights henceforth, judging by the size of the stag, Robyn!”
A shrill whistle was heard in the distance. Amanda looked around, but there was nothing but greenery.
“Quickly, the sheriff’s men approach!” Robyn said urgently. “We must hide.”
“But…where?” Amanda asked, pulling Jensen’s backpack closer to her shoulders.
Robyn lunged for his crossbow. “Follow me!”
Robyn and Jean headed into the forest. Tuck howled. He lobbed off in their direction, twigs and dead leaves crunched under his haste. Amanda started to feel the ground vibrate and knew it wouldn’t be long before the sheriff’s men arrived.
Jordan reached down, pulled Ravi up, and pushed him in front of him. “Hoof it, Sharma!”
Ravi and Melody sprinted ahead of Jordan. Amanda twisted around and waved at Drake, Treena, and Professor Lucas. “Come on, guys, before we get left behind!”
With her body in flight mode, Amanda hurdled over a stump, cleared a boulder, and dodged a fallen tree. Making headway, she ducked under a low lying branch and jumped but lost her footing and slipped. A sharp gnarled branch snagged Jordan’s backpack and pulled her through the air. Her legs were moving, but she wasn’t going anywhere. She felt paralyzed, a marionette to a puppet master’s wicked whims, as the others bounded farther away from her. She heard a piercing scream and stopped wiggling. Terrified and trapped, Amanda became as still as the dead deer.
“Dost thou yield?” a man with a raspy voice shouted.
“We yield!” Professor Lucas answered.
The branch suspending Amanda snapped. She dropped to the forest floor like an out-of-control acorn and landed yards away from a grizzly-looking soldier in chain mail and stockings, hacking through the bushes with his sword. Scrambling behind a decaying tree trunk, Amanda hugged it, held her breath, and watched as the soldier stopped and looked her way for what seemed like an eternity before he sheathed his sword. He grunted, cleared his throat, then horked on the ground.
“’Tis all clear!” the soldier yelled gruffly.
Shaking, Amanda let her breath go and watched him stomp back toward the others.
In the distance someone whistled out a strange code. Another whistle responded from across the tree tops. Dread punched Amanda in the stomach. She was on her own. She couldn’t go forward without getting lost, she couldn’t go back without getting caught. Her only option was to take Lilith’s advice. All you need to do is look, listen, and trust. Amanda’s fingers dug into the pulpy stump as she downloaded those words into her brain. She scanned the area. Only dark green shadows of the forest surrounded her, the leaves rustling back in hideous laug
hter.
11. The Hunchback of Nottingham
“Poachers!” a soldier yelled.
From her post under the thick, sheltering bushes, Amanda followed the soldier’s pointing finger with the pair of small binoculars she’d scrounged from Jordan’s backpack. She focused in. The soldier was pointing toward the deer Robyn’s arrow had slain.
“Aye. The sheriff will be pleased with our arrest,” another soldier said.
Drake shook his head. “But…it was an accident, we—”
“Silence!” a third soldier growled.
Amanda did a headcount. There were six soldiers total. One of the soldiers jumped off his horse and walked toward the deer with a thick, bristly rope in his hand. A few minutes later he was back on his gray steed and kicking at its muscular flanks like a man possessed. Snapping and cracking bushes accompanied the deer as it was mercilessly dragged out of the forest and down the path.
Their gruff laughter made Amanda cringe. “Up with thee! Start walking!”
Treena was on the ground in tears, her high-heeled black sandal caught under a gigantic root system. Amanda shook her head. When will Mui learn not to be so fashion conscious? Drake was wringing his hands and kept looking back toward where the others had run off. Professor Lucas helped Treena up and guided her to solid ground.
He gently patted her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Treena. It’s not your fault.”
Drake snorted. “No, not at all, Mui. It was the tree root’s fault for not moving out of the way fast enough.”
“That’s enough, Drake,” Professor Lucas said. “What’s done is done.”
“Aye,” the soldier snapped, “and thou wilt wish thy life was over when the sheriff is done with thee.”
The soldiers laughed. Amanda gagged. It sounded like chunks of gristle were caught in their throats.
The soldiers arranged themselves so that two rode in front of Treena, Drake, and Professor Lucas, then one on each side of them, and one behind. The sixth soldier dragging the deer had long gone. Amanda bit her bottom lip. She felt as circled and trapped as they were. Before setting out after them, Amanda searched the area behind her with the binoculars. Why haven’t the others come back?
After what seemed like hours, Amanda welcomed the warmth of the sun on her face and arms, as she left the dark, leafy forest behind and walked into a rolling, grassy meadow. Her nostrils flared in appreciation. Even the air seemed less heavy than it had been in the forest. Treena, Drake, Professor Lucas, and the soldiers were about to enter the town of Nottingham. Amanda continued to keep out of sight. She pulled out the binoculars again and checked over the area. Stalls and carts were being set up all around the grounds. Laughter and singing accompanied the vendors. A tall knotted pole, stripped of its bark and branches, was set into the ground in the middle of the activity. At the top of the pole, streams of thick ribbons spiraled around the pole like a rainbow-colored serpent. Most of the buildings looked like huge wooden tents with whitewashed woven twigs for walls and very steep roofs. Plumes of black smoke billowed out of many of the crooked stone chimneys. Amanda caught a faint whiff of burned meat and singed fur.
“This way!” the lead soldier shouted.
The soldiers led them over a stone bridge, down a ravine, then up a small hill and to a drawbridge. Amanda’s breath lodged in her throat. The professor and her classmates were standing in front of a massive stone castle situated on a high rock. The sandy-toned rock was pummeled with grooves and gouges. Tall towers commandeered the corners like possessed chess pieces. The castle gateway was flanked by two drum towers. Slit windows stared back at her like hungry vampire bats in a cave. She gulped as one of the soldiers signaled for entrance.
Her shoulders tensed. Great. How am I gonna get in that castle? The soldiers herded Treena, Drake, and Professor Lucas past the gate. An ox-driven wagon overflowing with straw entered next, followed by a group of finely-dressed villagers carrying instruments that resembled guitars, then finally a cart filled with sacks and bread pulled by two gray draft horses was allowed passage before the castle gate closed. She lowered the binoculars and let her head rest against the lenses. Her stomach clenched. If I could only pass for a local, then maybe I’d be able to get through the gate. Then Amanda lifted her head, her eyes widened. Lilith’s words strummed through her mind, like a finely-tuned instrument. The first rule as a Timekeeper is to pay attention, and then use the necessary action for the best results.
She quickly peeled off Jordan’s backpack, stashed the binoculars in a side pocket, then pulled out Jordan’s heavy, hooded purple sweatshirt. Robyn had a shirt with a hood, and so did Jean. Many of the other villagers she’d spotted walking around the grounds also had hooded attire, so Amanda figured Jensen’s hooded sweatshirt would make the perfect disguise for blending in. She lifted it over her head and struggled into it. She felt like she was being swallowed alive by a whale. Jensen’s sweatshirt hung off of her like a dilapidated sail with no wind.
“Really?” she growled, flailing the long, bulky sleeves around.
Then Amanda stopped. If she’d learned anything from Treena in the last two weeks, it was how to accessorize and accentuate. Make your clothing work for you, not against you, girl, Mui had preached. She pulled off the sweatshirt and reached for the backpack. Making sure all the zippers were zipped and secure, Amanda shrugged it on, tightened the straps, then picked up the sweatshirt and attempted to wear it again. This time it fit much better, as the backpack took up most of the slack. Pleased with herself, Amanda pulled the hood over her head, took a deep breath, and started walking toward the castle gate.
Amanda heard the odd gasp among the swirl of barnyard noises and hackneyed singing. A few people crossed themselves over and over again, as if they had some kind of a flea infestation. A couple of clucking chickens crossed her path at the same time she felt someone tap her across the top of her back. She whirled around to catch a boy, perhaps a little older than her, running away. She frowned, turned back, and continued on the uneven path, sidestepping potholes, street sewage, and wagon wheel ruts.
“Poor rogue,” a toothless woman said, trundling up to Amanda. She reached out with a gnarled hand, touched her back, and muttered what Amanda thought was some kind of prayer.
Then she placed a piece of bread in Amanda’s hand, and ambled off in the opposite direction. Puzzled, Amanda reached over her shoulder to check if something was stuck on her back. Nope. Only a hump where the backpack was positioned was there. She shook her head, shoving the bread into the front pouch of the sweatshirt. This was getting weird.
A sudden, foul odor of dung and sweat arrested her senses. She covered her nose.
“I beg of thee,” a weak voice called out.
Amanda looked around. “Who said that?”
“’Tis me, in this pit.”
To the left side of the bumpy road, Amanda saw a large dug out hole. Rotten vegetables dotted the edge. She cautiously walked over and peered into the pit. A grizzled old man stared up at her. His eyes were clouded and his white hair matted with mud. His clothes were so dirty and tattered she couldn’t tell what color they once were. Amanda’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing down there?” she asked.
“Couldn’t pay me taxes,” he wheezed.
Amanda’s eyebrows crinkled. “You didn’t pay your taxes, so you were thrown down there? What kind of justice is that?”
The old man shrugged. “Sheriff’s justice.”
Amanda felt a hand touch her back, and then another, almost pushing her into the pit. She stumbled and turned as two boys fled away. She frowned. “What’s with everyone touching my back?”
“Thou art a hunchback,” the old man answered, coughing.
“So?”
The man looked up at her strangely. “Thou bringest luck to those not stricken.”
“Stricken with what?”
He scratched his nose with a crooked finger. “Stricken with evil, child. Thou dost not know to touch thy hump wards off
the evil thou art cursed with?”
Amanda sighed. She wasn’t about to get into an argument with a man who was worse off than she was. She shook her head and looked at the castle. “I could use some luck of my own about now.”
“Such as?” the man asked. He sounded genuine, as if he cared about her plight.
“I need to get into the castle. My friends are in there. I have to find a way to rescue them.”
The wizened man was silent for the moment, while all the other archaic sounds around Amanda clashed into a mixture of medieval stew: drunks guffawing, women screeching, children crying, dogs howling, and people bartering bubbled all around her.
“I know a way,” he said with a gravelly voice. “I was once a castle guard. Yonder are passages under the rock. They will lead thee into the castle courtyard.”
“How do I get there?”
The man held out a hand to her. His eyes were pleading. She heard his stomach release a visceral growl. Fumbling for the piece of the bread she’d stuffed into the pouch, Amanda tossed it to him. He devoured it like a wolf would a newborn carcass.
He wiped his whiskered chin with a grimy chin. “Thou must wend thy way around the castle walls, past the last tower by the river and count one hundred paces until thou seest a big rotting stump. ’Twill be thick with moss and covered in vines and bramble. Thither, just beyond this stump, is me hole.”
“Your hole?” Amanda asked.
The corners of his eyes crinkled and he flashed Amanda a black-toothed grin. “Aye. ’Tis how I stole me wenches in.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “That’s way too much information, mister.”
He coughed. “Me name’s Mortimer.”
She smiled and waved. “Hi, Mortimer, I’m Amanda. And thanks…for the luck.”
As Amanda turned to leave, she heard Mortimer harshly hack. “If thou meetest with any resistance, Amanda,” he said, his voice now strong and clear, “tell the rogues Mortimer sent thee.”
As Amanda got closer to her only way into the castle, the crowds started to thin, the noises waned, the sun moved to the suppertime position, and her surroundings got greener. She took a deep welcoming breath and started to count off one hundred paces as Mortimer had instructed.
The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis Page 9