A look of realisation crossed Maude’s face and Erasmus could almost see her thought processes. After a few moments, the realisation changed to the sort of unhappy look Erasmus saw on students who’d just sat down at an exam paper and realised that the one thing they hadn’t revised was worth half the available marks. Maude shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.
‘That’s the point,’ said Erasmus. ‘Most people have no way of ever finding out the truth. Where I come from we tell stories about Robin and Marian living together in Sherwood, robbing the rich and giving to the poor. I wanted to find out the truth so I worked out a way of coming back – back in time.’
Maude struggled to cope with this concept. ‘You’re from… from later on?’ she said.
‘Exactly. I was born in the twentieth century – that’s in about eight hundred years’ time. My time machine is in Nottingham, which is why I have to get back there.’
‘Why can’t you stay?’ said Maude, ‘or at least… you know?’
‘Get in your britches, you mean?’
Maude nodded.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ Erasmus began, ‘but imagine if, originally, you were actually my great-great-great-great grandmother or something like that. If I slept with you then left you, you might not sleep with the man who would give you the child that would eventually give rise to me. I wouldn’t be born.’
‘But you’re ’ere.’
‘I know – but we don’t know what would happen if I was here but hadn’t been born. It could destroy everything for all we know. You don’t have to understand it; you just have to accept it.’
Maude considered this quietly for a moment. ‘Erasmus,’ she said finally.
‘Yes?’
‘What do they say about me in eight ’undred years?’
Erasmus smiled. ‘They say you were the kindest woman the world had ever seen,’ he said.
Erasmus felt considerably more relaxed as he and Maude made their way through the forest towards Marian’s camp. He hadn’t realised how much it would mean to be able to tell someone about his achievement, how much he’d wanted to be able to and, even if Maude wasn’t able to understand the enormity of what he had done, she still realised it made the little man with the deep brown eyes far more significant than he had been when he had only been the cute man from foreign.
For the first time since they’d met, Maude seemed genuinely lost for words – she even blushed when Erasmus caught her eye. Being able to take pride in his achievements was, therefore, a double-edged sword, but he couldn’t have simply left Maude without explanation. After all, he told himself, the emotional scars could prevent her from fulfilling whatever role she had to play in history and that could be catastrophic. He wondered what would happen if he prevented his own birth: would he spontaneously cease to exist, or would he just be unable to get home? It was an uncomfortable thought and he tried not to dwell on it – he’d cross that bridge when he came to it, assuming it had been built in his particular version of history.
The journey from Erasmus’ camp to Marian’s was a long one but, unlike Robin and his men, Maude was an able navigator and they made good time. When evening fell, they reached the road from Nottingham and a familiar inn by its side. Erasmus sighed: he’d had very little to drink that day, just some water from a relatively clean brook and he could do with some refreshment, even if it wasn’t tea. Maude, hearing his sigh, looked at him, her eyes glowing with concern.
‘D’you want a drink?’ she said.
Erasmus nodded. ‘Is it safe for us to go in there?’
‘’Course. The Sheriff’s men wouldn’t go in after nightfall.’
‘No?’
‘No. It’s a rough place.’
‘Ah,’ said Erasmus, not entirely reassured. The Sheriff’s men probably weren’t the only threat, after all. He followed Maude into the inn and she led the way to the bar. The barman was wiping a tankard with a piece of old rag: it must have been a purely subconscious action, perhaps caused by a genetic predisposition that all barmen shared, because Erasmus considered it unlikely from the state of the rag that it would render the tankard any cleaner.
‘Evening, miss,’ the barman greeted Maude, placing the tankard down on the bar and looking at her in a businesslike manner. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Wine, m’duck,’ said Maude, ‘and get it from the barrel your dog ’asn’t widdled in.’
If the barman was disturbed by the implied criticism, he showed no sign. He poured Maude a goblet and pushed it across the bar to her.
‘And for you, sir?’ the barman said to Erasmus.
Erasmus glanced at Maude’s wine: it was pinkish and thin in a way that didn’t suggest he’d get tastes of raspberry and sandalwood. Besides, he was more of a white wine person and that was highly unlikely to be on the menu. A part of him was tempted to ask for a rum and coke, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
‘Ale,’ he said simply and the barman complied with a frothing tankard that was more like shaving foam than a drink. Maude paid the man and the two retreated to a table in the corner of the room. There were two men already seated, but they didn’t seem to object to the new arrivals. They sat with their own tankards in their hands and watched without interest.
‘Evening,’ said Erasmus.
‘Arr,’ the first man greeted him in return.
Erasmus turned to Maude. ‘Do you come in here very often?’ he said.
‘Sometimes,’ said Maude. ‘The drink loosens people’s tongues, so we learn a bit.’
Erasmus nodded. ‘You said it was a rough place.’
‘I can take care of myself. Besides, a few ales tend to affect a man’s skill with the sword.’
Erasmus looked around the bar. The room was dimly lit, and smoke from the poorly ventilated fireplace drifted around, giving the general impression of London in the midst of a pea souper. The murky atmosphere did lend privacy to the clientele, however: Erasmus could only make out vague outlines of people and tables, all framed against the dominant black beams of the walls. He watched the shade of a man walking from the bar with a tankard in hand. He appeared to be having some difficulty, limping as if from a recent injury and, recognising his profile, Erasmus gave a start and tapped Maude on the arm.
‘Who’s that over there?’ he hissed, pointing towards the limping shadow.
Maude followed his arm. ‘I don’t know, m’duck,’ she said. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘The way he’s limping, it looks like Deloial.’
‘Deloial.’ Erasmus heard what he thought was an echo. It took him a moment to realise where the sound came from, then he turned to look back at their two companions at the table.
‘Did you say something?’ said Erasmus.
‘Arr?’ said the man.
‘I’m sure one of you said Deloial,’ said Erasmus. ‘Do you know him?’
‘Deloial,’ the taller of the men repeated.
‘Arr,’ said his friend, nodding vigorously.
‘Is that him over there?’
‘Arr.’
‘Great,’ said Erasmus to Maude. ‘If he sees me there’ll be trouble.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, you see the way he’s limping.’
‘Yes.’
‘I shot him in the leg.’
One of the men in the corner began to laugh raucously. Erasmus looked at him sternly and he shut up.
‘I never meant to,’ Erasmus continued, ‘but I overshot the target. I don’t imagine he’d be pleased to see me.’
‘He’s never pleased to see anyone,’ said the man in the corner, talking more to himself than to anyone else.
Erasmus looked at him. ‘What?’ he said.
‘Arr,’ said the man.
‘Look, what’s with all this village yokel act?’ said Erasmus. ‘It’s beginning to get on my nerves.’
The man shrugged. ‘You learn stuff when people think you’re stupid,’ he said. ‘You just told me you shot Deloial in the leg
– would you have done if you knew I could say more than “arr”?’
Erasmus considered this. ‘Probably not.’
‘See,’ said the man. ‘Well, we sit here day after day and people come and sit down and talk. They all think we don’t understand a word of what they’re saying, but we hear every word, don’t we Tom?’ He looked to his friend.
‘Arr,’ said his friend then, when the first man looked at him sternly, ‘aye.’
‘Aren’t you running the risk that we’ll tell people it’s just an act?’ said Erasmus.
‘’Course not. If I thought I couldn’t trust you, I’d have stabbed you where you sat,’ said the man, leaning back and revealing a dagger resting on his lap. ‘Besides, we know you’re a goodun’.’
‘How?’
‘Well, Marian wouldn’t have rescued you from Nottingham if you weren’t.’
He fell silent as the barman approached the table. The man was wiping a glass on his apron, which looked if anything grimier than his rag.
‘More drinks, gentlemen?’
‘Arr,’ the two men responded in unison then, once the barman had left them, the tall man leant over to Erasmus confidentially. ‘The barman pays us to spot troublemakers,’ he said. ‘We gets food, ale and a stable to sleep in and, in return, we keep this place safe for decent folks.’
‘Why did you mention Deloial?’
‘He’s not a good sort, that one.’
‘What’s he done?’
‘Nothing I can put my finger on – I’ve never seen him kill anyone, you understand, but he spends a lot of time in here talking to some pretty unsavoury sorts. Those two he’s with today, for example.’
Erasmus peered through the foggy room, but couldn’t even make out the table where Deloial was sitting.
‘Where?’ he said.
‘Arr,’ said the tall man and Erasmus looked up to see the barman had returned. He waited until the man had gone.
‘If he’s paying you, why do you put on the act when he’s around?’ he continued.
‘He takes pity on us dumb yokels. He wouldn’t pay us if he thought we were clever enough to do proper work. No, those two with Deloial, they’re definitely soldiers in disguise.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘It’s the way they carry themselves. Your average soldier’s only comfortable in armour and on a horse – get them in normal stuff and they look uncomfortable, fidgety.’
Erasmus scratched the back of his neck: mediaeval costumes weren’t designed to be comfortable in his opinion. He smiled at the man self-consciously.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the man. ‘I don’t think you’re a soldier.’
‘No?’
‘You haven’t got the build. No, Deloial’s up to something and I wouldn’t be surprised if it had something to do with the tax money.’
‘The tax money?’
‘Local collection’s up at the castle at the moment,’ said the man. ‘The Sheriff intends to send it down to London next week.’
Erasmus nodded. ‘You certainly learn a few things, don’t you?’ he said. ‘Why don’t you use the information yourselves?’
‘Not interested. I’ve got ale to drink and straw to lay in, what else could a man ask for?’
Erasmus could think of a few things, but that was the twenty-first century talking: it was amazing how contented you could be in an age when consumerism hadn’t been invented and the pace of life was so slow that men could live and die without seeing anything change around them. He finished his ale and looked at Maude.
‘Are you ready to go?’ he said.
Maude nodded.
‘We’d best get out of here before Deloial comes past,’ said Erasmus. He turned back to the two yokels. ‘Thanks for the information – do we owe you anything?’
The man shook his head. ‘It’s on the house,’ he said.
Erasmus and Maude left quietly and made their way into the forest, heading for Marian’s camp.
‘You’re a bit quiet,’ said Maude.
Erasmus smiled. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I was just thinking there are people where I come from who would love to live back in your century. Life’s just so much simpler when you don’t have to worry about your job, or your mortgage or whether your car’s going to get through its MOT.’
Maude nodded agreeably, even though most of Erasmus’ words meant nothing to her. ‘You say people don’t carry weapons?’ she said.
‘No.’
‘What about the soldiers?’
‘We don’t have soldiers on the streets – at least not usually.’
‘So who tells people what to do and takes their food for wars in the future?’
Erasmus considered this. ‘Nobody, I suppose,’ he said eventually. ‘We have laws – things you can’t do – but those are generally supposed to be for everyone’s benefit.’
‘And the food?’
‘Sometimes you get asked if you can spare food for people in other countries, but nobody ever takes it as such.’
‘Think I’d prefer to live in your time.’
Erasmus nodded agreeably. Looked at in those terms, Maude was absolutely right – life might be simpler without the harness of technology, but it was definitely more brutal with the whip of tyranny. In those terms, Browning was probably right.
‘The best is yet to be,’ Erasmus muttered to himself, the words of the poet coming unbidden to his mind.
‘What?’ said Maude.
‘It’s from a poem: “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be, the last of life for which the first was made.”’
Maude looked at him blankly. ‘Never mind,’ said Erasmus, ‘it was just something that crossed my mind.
Chapter Fifteen
The road to Nottingham seemed shorter on the way to the town than it had on the way out. Perhaps it was the fact that Erasmus felt slightly less of a burden, although Alice still wasn’t particularly pleased to see him, or maybe it was that peculiar phenomenon that makes all return journeys seem shorter. Perhaps it was simply that Erasmus had become fitter over the last couple of days.
Whatever the cause, the walls of the town came into view much sooner than Erasmus expected, and he felt a strange mixture of apprehension and elation flowing through his veins at the sight – elation that he would soon be reunited with his time machine and able to go home; apprehension that getting there would not be quite that simple.
It had been a difficult job to persuade Marian to make an attempt on the tax money. Marian was a cautious type and naturally reasoned it would be safer to intercept the money once it left the town. Things hadn’t been made any easier by Erasmus’ own desire not to tell Marian of his own intentions. His honesty with Maude had paid off, however, and she had eventually managed to convince Marian there would be certain advantages in removing the tax chest from the town during the night – there would be fewer guards for a start – and she had cunningly played on Alice’s interests by stressing the importance of slitting their throats rather than taking them out with a longbow. Finally persuaded, Marian had listened to all the information that the two yokels had provided and had laid her own plans for the venture. Erasmus had paid careful attention to Marian’s explanations of the layout of the town and the castle, trying to work out the optimum time for him to take his own leave.
They reached the town wall, stopping some distance from the gate, and Marian pulled them into the shadows, putting a cautionary finger to her lips to silence them. As they watched, a small group of friars approached the town, their hoods drawn over their heads. The group halted by the gate and Erasmus caught the sounds of a conversation between them and the guards, although he couldn’t make out any of the words. After a few moments the discussion came to an end and the monks continued through the gate and along the road to the castle. Erasmus looked back at Marian, whose eyes had narrowed suspiciously.
Erasmus and Marian exchanged glances. ‘A strange time for a party of monks to arrive, don’t you think?’ s
he said.
‘The guards seemed happy enough.’
‘The Sheriff’s guards aren’t chosen for their intelligence.’
‘Ah,’ said Erasmus. He watched Marian curiously. She was running her hands over the stones of the town wall, prodding and poking at the mortar that bound them. Eventually, she pulled her hand back and Erasmus saw she was pulling on a string, hidden between two of the stones. She noticed his gaze and smiled.
‘Bell-rope,’ she said.
‘I didn’t hear a bell.’
‘You wouldn’t. The walls are very thick.’
They waited quietly at the base of the wall then, after a few moments, a rope snaked down beside them, stopping just short of the bottom. Marian grasped the rope in her hands and began to walk up the wall. Once she had reached the top, Ethel, Meg and Alice followed in turn and Erasmus craned his neck as he watched them disappear out of sight. He turned back to look at Maude, who smiled reassuringly.
‘You next,’ she said.
Erasmus looked apprehensively at the rope. ‘Life’s one big gym class round here, isn’t it,’ he said.
‘A what?’
‘Never mind,’ said Erasmus and, grasping the rope firmly, began to climb the wall. Perhaps it wasn’t a good time to point out that he was afraid of heights? Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the top of the wall, he climbed steadily upwards. As he reached the top, Alice held out a hand to help him over. Erasmus hesitated, his response much like that of a man being offered the gun in a round of Russian roulette, then took the proffered hand and stumbled over the parapet. Maude, only a few feet behind him, climbed over without help and began to wind in the rope in a businesslike manner.
Erasmus looked around nervously. The town was in darkness, with only the occasional flickering patch of light where a torch marked out a building of significance. By the light of one of these, Erasmus caught a glimpse of the monks walking slowly, but purposefully toward the castle. He watched them for a moment – there was something familiar about them that he couldn’t quite place – but Maude prodded him in the back as a hint that he couldn’t stand on the wall all night. Ahead of him was a hole in the straw roof of one of the buildings that butted up against the wall and Erasmus, assuming this was where Marian and Alice had already gone, approached it cautiously. The room below was in complete darkness and he hesitated reluctantly before stepping through the hole and, he assumed, into oblivion.
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