The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis

by Sharon Ledwith

  16. Going Beneath the Surface

  “En garde, rogue!” Melody yelled as she cracked her blade hard against the advancing soldier’s scrawny butt. He tripped up and fell, face first, into a mud puddle.

  Robyn joined Melody. He took care of the second soldier by whacking the sword out of his hand and slicing a huge hole in the back of his hose. In a panic, the soldier tried to cover his exposed hairy cheeks and tripped over the other fallen soldier.

  “All for one!” Melody cheered, clanking swords with Robyn.

  The crowd burst into applause and cheers.

  Amanda spied more soldiers, all gangly and vulgar, rushing toward them from behind. They laughed and drooled like a pack of wild hyenas. Amanda gulped. Their only hope was to outrun them by going around the wagon stuck in the middle of the road up ahead. The soldier whose face had done a slam-dance with Ravi’s prosthesis drew his sword and attacked Melody. She counter-attacked as if she were a lioness protecting her pride.

  “’Tis time to bid farewell,” Alan a’Dale announced. He rammed the silver dagger’s hilt into the skull of its former owner, knocking him out cold. “Penance…for Wil.”

  “Take that, you douche-bag!” Jordan yelled. “Boom!”

  Wil fell to his knees. “I thank thee, Jordan, Alan. My mother hath been honored.”

  “Like Amanda said, we’re on the same team, Wil,” Jordan replied, helping him up.

  Melody curtsied. “And thank you, Alan.”

  Alan a’Dale bowed. “’Tis my pleasure, milady.”

  “Do you guys think you can stop with playing nice now?” Amanda asked. “We’ve gotta get to the Rockyard Inn before those soldiers reach us.”

  “Aye, milady Amanda is right,” Robyn said, waving his sword in the air. “Let us take our leave.”

  Amanda caught Treena waving at the people, throwing imaginary kisses to them as if they were at a red carpet event. She grabbed Treena’s hood and dragged her up the road. “If you ever want to see your star on the sidewalk, I suggest you move, Mui!”

  “Okay, okay, Sault,” Treena said in a huff. “I was only connecting with my fans.”

  The men, women, and children lined on the side of the road whistled, cheered, and clapped as they passed them. Mud caked Amanda’s sandals as she darted toward the sideways wagon. She covered her mouth as soon as they got within twenty feet of it. The air was rank, rancid, and offensive, like stepping into an overflowing outhouse. A couple of men were trying to pry the wagon’s wheel out of the pothole using a pole, but it didn’t budge. In a fit of pique, the bigger of the two men threw the pole on the ground and stomped away. Robyn reached the wagon first, and using his sword, cut the bottom latch on the back gate.

  “Cut the other latch, milady Melody,” Robyn said urgently. “’Twill slow the soldiers!”

  Melody raced around, slashed the other latch, and backed away. But nothing happened.

  Amanda skidded to a stop, almost banging into Jensen. Holding her breath, she looked up. The back gate had been reinforced with rope at the top to secure its smelly contents from spilling all over the road. Jordan grabbed the pole off the ground and tried to free one of the ropes. Bits of hay and dung dropped on his head.

  He grimaced and stepped away. “It’s too high, too tight, and too stinky!”

  “Hey, wait—couldn’t Ravi send his hand up there to loosen those ropes?” Drake asked, straining his neck to look up.

  “Yeah, Sharma,” Treena added, puffing hard. “Show us your super Boy Scout powers and undo those knots.”

  Ravi’s face scrunched. “Nuh-uh. No way. No how. I’ve got my hand dirty enough for one day, thank you very much.”

  Amanda glanced over her shoulder. At least twelve well-armed soldiers were closing in on them. “There’s no time, guys. It was a good plan, but we gotta go.”

  Suddenly, an arrow sliced through the top ropes. Half the gate wrenched and twisted open under the pressure of the dung-hay mixture. Amanda and Jordan jumped back. Some of the smelly contents started to trickle out, but for the most part the gate remained suspended in mid-air, held by a few strands of rope.

  “Get thee away from yon wagon, unless, thou wishest to bath with the soldiers!”

  Amanda twirled around. Her eyes widened. “It’s Miriam!”

  “Miriam?” Robyn cried, turning.

  Wil grinned. “Aye! She is safe, Robyn!”

  “You heard her, guys! Run!” Jordan yelled.

  “Actually, I didn’t get the gist of what she said exactly, but—”

  “Move already, Mui!” Drake shouted, pushing her out of the way.

  Amanda ran to the other side of the wagon to join the others. Miriam slid another arrow out of her belt, took aim, waited until the majority of the soldiers neared the wagon, then let the arrow go. Her arrow sliced through the remaining ropes holding the wagon’s gate. Like the force of an erupting volcano, the gate exploded open, allowing for a ton of manure and sewage to spill out of the wagon and pour in an avalanche upon the advancing soldiers.

  Miriam jumped down from the pottery vendor’s wagon where she’d been positioned. She was wearing the same outfit as yesterday—a green bat-winged dress and hooded cloak, confirming to Amanda that she hadn’t gone home. Her hair was full of straw and face smeared with dirt. Although Miriam appeared tired, her brown eyes were alert.

  Robyn ran to meet her halfway. He put a hand on her shoulder. “God’s wounds, Miriam, where hast thou been? Thou hast never told me thou help—”

  Miriam coolly cut him off with a scowl, and batted his hand away from her shoulder. “’Tis none of your concern!” Then she glared at Amanda. “And thou should be ashamed of thyself, acting as one of the stricken.”

  Amanda’s face clouded over. “I-I’m sorry, Miriam, I had no other choice.”

  “There is always a choice, Amanda,” Miriam said gruffly.

  “Uh, do you think you three could catch up another time?” Jordan interrupted. “The poop squad is on the move again.”

  Amanda checked behind her. A few soldiers had freed themselves and were sifting through the stinky debris for their weapons.

  “Come along, children,” Melody said, running up. “We’ve got to beat the soldiers to the Rockyard Inn.”

  Miriam frowned. “Why art thou going thither?”

  “The cellar caves will take us to the deepest cavern, where the sheriff holds their friend, John Lucas,” Alan a’Dale replied.

  “Yea, Much, Jean, and Tuck await us,” Wil added.

  “You’re welcome to join us if you wish, Miriam,” Melody said, starting to pick straw out of Miriam’s disheveled brown hair. “We’re all Robyn’s friends, so the more the merrier. My name is Melody.”

  Amanda watched Miriam run her thumb along her bow. She checked behind her. Amanda looked too. All she saw were a couple of men in silk tights and fur-lined cloaks heading their way. One of them, a gray bearded man with a wrinkled face and vigilant eyes, pointed at them.

  Miriam stiffened. “Aye, Melody, I will accompany thee. I know a quicker way. Follow me.”

  Robyn grabbed Miriam’s hand. “But, Miriam, where art thou—”

  “Release me, Hodekin, or thou shalt be making merry with the point of my arrow!”

  Robyn winced and unhanded Miriam. She nodded tersely, then waved for Melody and the rest of them to follow her. Before Amanda had time to take her next breath, Miriam raced past the pottery cart she’d stood on and jumped over a small fence.

  “What was that about?” Amanda asked.

  Shell-shocked, Robyn said, “’Tis most odd, the way Miriam spoke to me.”

  “Never mind that,” Jordan said. “We’d better go or we’ll lose her.”

  The Rockyard Inn sat against the monstrous castle rock, looking stark and out of place in the shadow of Nottingham Castle. Dark timber framed its white-washed walls, while the shaggy thatched roof resembling an unkempt sheepdog gave the inn a welcoming feel. Smoke billowed from a chimney stack, releasing the pungent, thi
ck smell of brewing ale and roasting meat into the air. Wagons were parked in a helter-skelter manner near the inn and horses hitched to posts. Much and Jean were carrying in sacks of grain.

  “Much, Jean, get thee inside!” Robyn yelled, as he ran toward them.

  Much dropped the sacks and crossed his burly arms over his grimy green tunic. He stiffly shook his head. “Father will have me ’ead if I don’t deliver ’is grain.”

  “Aye, Robyn, Much’s father is not to be trifled with,” Jean added.

  “Yeah, well the guards looking for us will have all of our heads if they catch us,” Jordan said, running past Much, and into the inn.

  The moment Amanda crossed the threshold of the inn, she retched. Heavy smoke, body odor, and strong ale overwhelmed her senses. She gazed around, squinting from the smoke. The inn was almost filled to capacity. The sounds of guffawing, chortling, and cantankerous talking circled her ears the way a snake wraps around its prey. Some customers sitting at long pitted tables eyed them suspiciously, while others pointed and raised their goblets to them.

  “I don’t know what smells worse,” Treena whispered, covering her nose. “The wagon full of poop or this inn full of patrons.”

  “How do people get past the stench to drink that stuff?” Ravi asked, plugging his nose.

  “Betcha it’s healthier than the sewage-infested water around here,” Drake said.

  Near one of the tables at the back, Amanda spotted three knapsacks propped against the wall. Alan a’Dale’s lute and Robyn’s bow and arrows had been placed on top of them. Bags of grain Much and Jean had hauled in were slouched across the floor, looking like faceless rag dolls. Treena, Ravi, Jordan, Alan a’Dale, and Robyn headed back to gather their belongings, while Melody, Wil, and Drake walked over to where Jean was sorting out the grain.

  “How may I help thee?”

  Amanda whirled around. Her mouth opened, but no words escaped. A tall, bearded man with steady blue eyes and short, tidy blond hair looked down at her. He was dressed in a full length white cloak with an embroidered red cross on the left side that flared out at each end. Under his cloak, Amanda noticed he was wearing a leather vest, breeches, and worn boots. A long sword was sheathed in his belt, but she guessed it would only take him a split second to wield it if provoked.

  “W-We’re with Much the miller’s son,” Amanda blurted at the man as tall as a bear. “I was just looking for the cellar caves. Could you point me in the general direction?”

  The man knitted his fair brows. “If thou wishest something from me, then ’tis my right to wish something of thee.”

  Amanda frowned, thinking over his offer. “You mean if I give, I get?”

  Even with all the smoke in the air, the man’s face lit up, as if Amanda had told him a secret she’d never shared with anyone else. He grinned down at her, his teeth as white as his cloak. “Aye, ’tis that simple, milady. Have thy friends lift a bag of grain from yon pile and follow me toward the back of my establishment.”

  Amanda nodded. Just as she was about to tell the others to grab a bag of grain, Miriam shrieked, “I beg of thee, let me go, Friar Tup!”

  “Nay, thou must do as thy father bids, milady Miriam! Thou shalt come with me!”

  The man Miriam had addressed as Friar Tup wore a long brown robe that would have brushed the floor had he been a hundred pounds lighter. The coarse rope he used as a belt strained against his girth, and the top of his head was shaved bare, leaving the rest of his hair looking like a bad bowl cut. His cheeks were roly-poly to the point of almost swallowing his thin lips. He clutched Miriam’s arm and started to drag her toward the door.

  Tuck growled and rushed the fat friar. Startled, he released Miriam and backed into a table full of platters of meat and pitchers of ale. Lewd laughter and cheers swallowed the air, as men started betting on who would win—the canine or the clergy. Most were pulling for Tuck.

  “Friar Tup! Tuck! Friar Tup! Tuck!” Robyn shouted, as he raced over, trying to shove his bow over his shoulders.

  Jean, Much, and Wil ran over to help Robyn haul Tuck away from the sniveling friar.

  Miriam rubbed her arm as Amanda helped her up. “What’s all that about, Miriam?”

  For the first time since Amanda had met Miriam, she saw fear in her eyes. “’Tis nothing thou canst do, Amanda,” she whispered.

  “Come along, girls,” Melody said, tossing aside her sword and reaching for their hands. “The entrance to the cellar caves is at the back of the inn.”

  “Aye, our quest awaits, muse,” Alan a’Dale said, strumming his lute behind them.

  “Rogues! Thou shall be hanged for what thou hast done!”

  Amanda clasped her throat, imagining rope cutting into her skin, snapping her neck. In the doorway of the inn stood five soldiers covered in manure and hay. She winced at the stench.

  The tall man in the white cloak drew his sword and blocked the soldiers from entering. “Get out of my inn, or I shall have all of thy ears to feed my swine.”

  Jean lunged for his staff leaning against a table and held it ready. “Aye, and a broken nose for thy trouble.”

  The lead soldier stiffened. “’Tis against the law to give criminals sanctuary, Sir George.”

  “I see only guests,” Sir George said calmly, glancing around. Then he stared at Friar Tup and smirked. “Except for the friar. Thou mayest take him if thou wishes.”

  The soldier grunted. “Have thy way, Sir George, but thy guests must leave eventually. We stand guard till then.”

  Amanda watched the stinky soldiers back out. Friar Tup ambled out as fast as his turkey legs could carry him, crossing himself at least nine times over. Sir George slammed the door, then turned and raised his sword.

  “Ale on the house. ’Tis May Day after all.”

  The patrons cheered and whistled, clanking their tankards and goblets together and laughing like children in a candy store. Sheathing his sword, Sir George picked up a bag of barley and marched toward the back in disciplined, direct strides. As he passed Amanda he winked and said, “Thou givest, thou gettest.”

  With everyone’s help, all the grain was piled neatly in a rectangular cave at the bottom of the stairs that led back up to the inn. Sir George suggested that they change out of their minstrel-wear and Jordan wash the blue woad off his face. Jensen didn’t have to be told twice, and as for Amanda, the tunic she wore was starting to make her itch in all the wrong places.

  Looking around, Amanda couldn’t help but wonder about the labyrinth of caves that infiltrated the village of Nottingham. From Mortimer’s hole to the dungeon to the courtyard and all throughout Nottingham, these caves seemed to be used for everything from shelters to malting rooms to businesses. Shivering at the drop in temperature, Amanda rubbed her arms briskly, trying to warm them.

  “I remember my father telling me the Nottingham caves were used as bomb shelters during World War II,” Melody whispered to Drake and Treena.

  Treena groaned. “FYI—I think I’d feel safer above ground.”

  “You’d be safer in here than in an actual mine, Mui,” Drake said, as he pushed his hand against the cave wall. “This sand makes for a solid base, so nothing’s gonna collapse on top of us.”

  “It’s not the collapsing part that freaks me out,” Treena said, her teeth chattering. “It’s what’s in those dark tunnels.”

  Jordan snorted. “Really, Mui? You’re not afraid of being squashed to death, but you’re afraid of what’s in the caves?”

  Ravi made a scary woo sound. “Mui’s afraid of what lurks beneath the surface.”

  “Don’t worry, Treena,” Amanda said. “Jockstrap’s face will scare them away.”

  The acrid smell of rushes burning began to fill the cave as Sir George lit five torches. He passed one to Jordan, the second to Alan a’Dale, a third to Melody, and the fourth to Robyn, keeping the last torch for himself.

  “Yonder are many passages stemming from this main tunnel,” Sir George said. “Follow me, stay close.�
�

  Sir George led them down a series of caves all branching from underneath the Rockyard Inn. Both Sir George and Jordan lit the way with their torches. Next in line came Jean, Miriam, Melody, and Drake. They were tailed by Wil, Ravi, Alan a’Dale, Much, and Tuck, while Amanda, Treena, and Robyn brought up the rear. Along the way they passed small subterranean rooms filled with jugs and cooking pots used to make the inn’s ale. A circular kiln reeked of burned barley and wheat. Amanda winced at the sharp smell.

  The dampness was starting to push into Amanda’s skin. Treena seemed to be dragging her feet, and they were falling behind. Amanda nudged Treena, but Treena didn’t want to move any faster.

  “Get going, Treena,” Amanda said, prodding her.

  Treena chewed her bottom lip. “Sorry, Amanda, but I’m not too good with things that go bump in a cave.”

  “Is a problem?” Robyn asked, as he waved the torch in their faces.

  “I think Treena’s having a cave crisis. You know, bugs, bats, anything with antennas.”

  Robyn shook his head. “’Tis the truth no wiggles survive down here. Now go, before we lose them.”

  “What’d he say?” Treena asked.

  “He said no chance of it. Nothing stays alive long enough in the caves.”

  Treena gulped. “N-Nothing? Does that include us?”

  Shuffling down the tunnel, Amanda heard whispering going on ahead. They were almost under the castle. Another turn and they would catch up with the others. Sir George brought a finger to his lips and pointed. Amanda saw another tunnel to their left. This one seemed wider and rounder. It also appeared darker and deeper. Treena groaned again.

  “’Tis where I must take my leave,” Sir George said. A hint of regret lingered in his voice. “Follow yon cave. It shall take thee to where thou wishest to be.”

  “My first choice would be Disneyland, but finding Uncle John is a close second,” Jordan said. “Thanks, for helping us, Sir George.”

  Sir George bowed. “As a Knight Templar ’tis my duty to protect those on a pilgrimage.”