‘I don’t want no bleedin’ woman going down as the best shot in Sherwood,’ Will snapped. ‘I’d prefer they thought the old beggar won.’
Robin began rummaging around in a hedge and pulling out costumes. He threw clothing to each of them and the outlaws began to hastily slip them over their existing clothes. Erasmus’ outfit turned out to be a simple robe, but one that was several sizes too large and he was forced to put his belt on the outside to keep it from tripping him. Soon, however, the party were suitably disguised and ready to make their way to Nottingham. Robin led them to the Nottingham road, where they ambushed a carter on his way out of the town and, travelling at a comfortable pace, headed toward the town in his cart.
‘There is one other thing,’ said Erasmus as they trundled gently between the leafy boughs, Robin lying on his back and watching them pass.
‘What’s that?’ said Robin.
‘The Sheriff’s got something of mine I’d like to have back.’
‘What’s that then?’ said Will.
‘A kind of cabinet.’
‘A what?’
‘It looks like a privy,’ said Erasmus.
‘What’s so special about a bleedin’ privy?’
‘It only looks like a privy. It’s more of a sort of,’ he struggled for the words, ‘magic box.’
‘Magic?’ said Robin. ‘There’s no such thing.’
‘Don’t you have magic round here?’
‘Of course not. It’s all peasant superstition.’
Erasmus mused on this. ‘Perhaps magic is the wrong word,’ he said. ‘Now, what would you call it. Oh yes… holy.’
‘It’s a holy box?’
‘Blessed by the Almighty himself.’
‘That’s different,’ said Robin. ‘Where’s the Sheriff got it?’
Chapter Twenty-two
It was a novelty for Erasmus to enter Nottingham by the town gates. After his various entrances and exits in recent days, he expected to be arrested on the spot. He drew his cloak so tightly around him that people could have been forgiven for thinking he was suffering from hypothermia, if they had ever heard of it.
The streets of Nottingham were thronged with people: the day had been made a public holiday and the cart passed through scenes of peasants enjoying the sun and making merry with mead and ale. People had woven garlands into the thatched roofs of their houses, making the town look like a giant basket of flowers, and the outer walls of the castle were hung with banners, giving it an impressive look, albeit one slightly more refined than the town without.
They secured the cart in a stabling area outside the castle walls and made their way into the outer bailey on foot. Here a set of lists had been erected and armoured knights were charging each other with blunted lances, the clang of wood on shield adding a deafening punctuation to the hubbub of excited merrymakers.
Erasmus looked around for some sign of Marian, but she wasn’t immediately apparent. As they passed around the bailey, he saw a number of men with longbows: some were restringing them, others testing the tension or sighting along their arms for practice. Towards the western wall there was an open area which had obviously been set up for the tournament. A series of covered seats had been erected as a primitive grandstand against the curtain wall and, opposite this, a line of targets stood on wooden supports. A small party of nuns, looking slightly incongruous with longbows on their backs, were watching with interest as a soldier hammered small marker flags into the turf at the grandstand end. These were clearly the starting marks for the archers and Erasmus estimated the distance to the targets as roughly fifty yards.
‘Where’s this woman you were on about?’ Robin hissed at Erasmus from under his robe. ‘I’d like to see what I’m up against.’
‘I haven’t seen her yet,’ said Erasmus. ‘You’re not worried, are you?’
‘Of course not,’ said Robin. He strolled casually over to a stall selling cuts of roasted pork and mead. He prodded at the meat as if testing the quality and, when he was sure the stall’s owner wasn’t looking, he tore off a piece and tucked into it hungrily.
Erasmus gave him an accusing stare. ‘What?’ said Robin. ‘You didn’t give us time to eat, remember.’
Erasmus shook his head woefully then took a few loose coins from his pouch. ‘How much for the meat?’ he said to the stall-keeper
The stall-keeper turned. He gave Robin a suspicious look, but the outlaw simply smiled and continued to chew at his pork. The stall-keeper turned to Erasmus. ‘Penny a steak,’ he said.
‘Well, I’ll have one and my friend already has one and we’ll have a couple of meads too.’
Erasmus handed over the money. The stall-keeper handed over two cups of mead and Erasmus passed one to Robin, freeing up a hand to take the meat. Robin looked at the schoolteacher scornfully.
‘What?’ said Erasmus. ‘He’s not rich.’
‘I know,’ said Robin, ‘but we’re supposed to be beggars.’
‘I think we gave up that disguise when we arrived in a cart,’ said Erasmus.
‘So, what does that make us now?’
‘I don’t know. Does it matter?’
‘Well, what if someone asks?’
‘Just tell them you’re here for the contest. You don’t have to give them your life history.’
John and Will approached, John looking conspicuously tall compared to his companion. ‘Where did you get the meat, lad?’ said John. ‘I could do with a bite myself.’
Erasmus pointed out the stall. John sauntered over.
‘What happened to being in disguise?’ said Will. ‘How many beggars do you see munching pork and supping on mead?’
‘We’ve already had that discussion, Will,’ said Robin. ‘Erasmus reckons coming in on the cart was a mistake.’
‘We wouldn’t have got here if we’d walked,’ Will snapped. ‘Besides, nobody here saw us arrive, so what does it matter?’
John returned with mead and pork and passed a share to Will. Will grimaced, but didn’t refuse. ‘What’s the matter?’ said John.
‘We don’t look like beggars if we’re eating,’ said Will.
‘Beggars eat, don’t they?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘Besides, we can just say we won the archery prize in Newark yesterday. That’d be enough for a bite to eat.’
‘Was there an archery contest in Newark yesterday?’ said Erasmus. He finished his pork and wiped his greasy hands on his robe before taking a sip of his mead. The drink was slightly sweeter than he had expected, but of all he’d drunk on his travels it was probably the most palatable. He made a mental note that, for his personal rough guide to mediaeval England he would have to advise tourists to take the mead over the ale.
John nodded. ‘They’re forever having archery contests in Newark,’ he said. ‘The Baron fancies himself as a bit of a shooter.’
‘Is he any good?’ said Erasmus.
‘Hopeless. It doesn’t matter though. You aren’t supposed to be good at archery if you’re a baron. Archery is for the peasants.’
‘I’ve never understood the sentiment,’ said Erasmus. ‘I gather it has to do with the fact that it’s as easy to kill a king as another peasant with a bow.’
‘Aye, that’s it. They don’t like you killing kings with bows.’
‘Then why don’t they use the bows and give the peasants something else?’
John shrugged. ‘It’s all politics to me. Way above my head.’
Erasmus smiled at the unfortunate metaphor then finished his mead. ‘When does the contest start?’ he said.
There was a fanfare from the direction of the grandstand. ‘Any moment now, I should reckon,’ said Robin, handing Erasmus his cup. ‘I’d better go and register.’
He strode off purposefully then, after a few steps, turned and ran back to his companions.
‘What’s up?’ Will hissed.
‘What’s my name?’ said Robin.
‘I don’t know. It’s up to you.’
> ‘I’ve never been very good with names. Besides, if you don’t know my name, what if someone asks and you give them a different answer.’
‘Nobody will know,’ said Erasmus. ‘Just go and register.’
Erasmus and the outlaws stood back from the arena and watched as the applicants milled around the registration table.
‘Popular event,’ said Erasmus. ‘You’d wonder what they all wanted with a golden arrow.’
‘It’s the fame that goes with it,’ said Will. ‘People can’t resist the chance to show off.’ There was something faintly matter-of-fact in the way Will spoke, suggesting he was not amongst those people.
‘I suppose not,’ said Erasmus.
Will cast him a curious glance. ‘You knew Robin wouldn’t refuse, didn’t you?’
‘I hoped he wouldn’t.’
‘And it’s not really a wager, is it?’
‘Not exactly… ’
‘So what is it? Is it this holy privy of yours?’
‘That’s part of it, yes.’
Will looked back at the castle. ‘And you reckon it’s in the great hall?’
‘It was when the Sheriff questioned me.’
Will looked around at the bustling bailey. ‘You’ll never get it out of here with all these people around,’ he said. ‘Not even if you had the fastest nags in England pulling the cart.’
‘If you can get me to it, I’ll get it out of here.’
Will finished his drink. ‘We should go now, then,’ he said.
‘Now? Why now?’
‘Because whilst this lot are showing off their bowmanship, there’s not going to be anyone watching the hall.’
Erasmus shook his head. ‘I can’t go now.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’ve got to see this contest first.’
‘So, there is a wager.’
‘I told you, not exactly.’
‘So what is it?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘But you want to.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Then why do you keeping saying not exactly and making it sound all mysterious? If you don’t want me to ask, you should just tell me it’s a wager and leave it at that.’
‘All right,’ said Erasmus wearily, ‘It’s a wager. Are you happy now?’
‘Fine,’ said Will and the two men fell silent. Erasmus watched as the contestants lined up at their marks for the first round.
‘It’s not though, is it?’ said Will.
Erasmus kept quiet. It was the only way he could think of that wouldn’t end up with him strangling someone.
The archers took it in turns to fire at the targets. Each archer got three shots, then a soldier scurried over to the target to ascertain where the arrows had hit. Any archer who didn’t hit the black mark at the centre of the target was eliminated and then the targets were moved back a further fifty yards. Again, the remaining contestants fired. One of them was a little too eager and nearly hit the soldier whilst he was checking the last archer’s aim. That constituted an automatic disqualification and the sulking man was led from the field with a soldier at each arm. By the time the second round had concluded, the remaining archers were considered significant enough that their names were read out before they took their marks.
‘Hedger of Castleton,’ the first was announced and a swarthy, rough-set man with a moustache like a grey caterpillar stepped up. After briefly checking the wind direction, he set an arrow to his bow and fired. His first arrow struck just inside the centre circle and the crowd let out an involuntary gasp. Hedger rode the pause, demonstrating that his showmanship was as well developed as his archery. When he judged the moment was right he took his second shot, striking fractionally closer and prompting a cautious cheer. His third arrow missed the inner circle and there were a few ohs mixed with some muted applause.
Robin was next up.
‘Stranger of Peveril,’ the announcer read out, staring at the scroll as if he wasn’t entirely convinced of the evidence of his own eyes. Robin made no show of checking wind or weather, but simply fired three arrows in rapid succession. All three hammered into the inner circle effortlessly and Robin bowed stiffly to the applause and stepped back to allow the next contestant.
The next archer was, oddly enough, one of the nuns that Erasmus had seen earlier. When the announcer read her name as Sister Mary of Sleaford, Erasmus almost choked. He should have recognised her from the start: the willowy grace, the eyes – it had to be Marian. He took a sip from Robin’s mead and nodded, impressed inspite of himself.
‘Eh up, m’duck,’ a voice came from behind him, causing him to spill the remaining mead on the grass. Erasmus spun round and found himself looking at a smaller, chubbier nun, with a round face and a couple of visible swirls of raven-black hair.
‘How did you know it was me?’ said Erasmus.
‘I knew you was coming,’ said Maude.
‘You knew?’
‘Information can be bought.’ There was a twinkle in Maude’s eye as she said this. Erasmus began to wonder if there was anyone in the world who didn’t visit The Feeding of the Five Thousand with a purse of gold. By rights, the two peasants ought to be richer than the King with the burgeoning news empire they were building.
‘You knew I hadn’t left?’ said Erasmus, realising that Maude hadn’t been surprised to see him.
‘I did wonder when they said you’d been in the inn, but they’re a good source of information. They don’t lie, you see.’
‘Because that would devalue the information they gave.’
‘That’s it,’ said Maude. ‘So why didn’t you leave?’
Erasmus sighed.
‘Are you expecting gold?’ said Maude. ‘Only I ’aven’t brought any with me. Nuns aren’t supposed to carry money.’
‘It’s not that,’ said Erasmus. ‘It’s just that…’ He paused. ‘Look, are nuns allowed to eat and drink?’
‘We are supposed to be people, yes.’
‘I mean in public.’
‘Oh.’ Maude considered this. ‘I don’t really know. I don’t suppose it matters, though. If I don’t know, I don’t know as whether anyone else would.’
‘Let’s go over and get a drink,’ said Erasmus. He shepherded her to the pork stall.
Maude accepted the pork and mead gratefully, making no comment about Erasmus’ sudden acquisition of wealth. ‘What’s with all the secrecy?’ she said. ‘Is it another one of your future things?’
‘Kind of,’ said Erasmus. ‘You see, when the Sheriff caught me—’
‘The Sheriff caught you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, but when he caught me, he told me about the day he was seized by Robin.’
‘I didn’t know about that.’
‘I’m not surprised – the Sheriff wouldn’t be keen on letting it be known. Well, what happened was that the Sheriff bargained for his life by convincing Robin they were on the same side. Robin continued to steal from the rich, but he stopped giving it to the poor and gave it to the Sheriff instead.’
‘That’s what ’appened,’ said Maude with sudden realisation. ‘I thought ‘e’d just gotten greedy. What’s this got to do with you?’
‘The reason the Sheriff was caught was because Gisburne was inconvenienced. You remember I said I caused him to fall from his horse?’
Maude nodded.
‘That was when I arrived in Sherwood,’ said Erasmus. ‘I left as quickly as I could, then I ended up in the castle on the night you were in the cells.’
There was a cheer from the crowd around the archery and Erasmus and Maude looked back to see Marian taking a bow after three shots on the centre of the target.
‘So what does this mean?’ said Maude, turning back to Erasmus.
‘It means that history isn’t working the way it should do: Robin being corrupt, Marian having her own band, none of that was true when I arrived.’
‘And me?’
‘I hadn’t heard of you at all,’ said Erasmus. ‘I’m sorry I lied.’
Maude shrugged. ‘It was a nice lie,’ she said. ‘What are you doing now?’
‘Well,’ Erasmus began, ‘in my version of the legend, this contest was set up as a trap to catch Robin and he won. When I found Marian was entering I thought that if I could get Robin here as well, perhaps everything would be all right.’
‘I don’t think ’e’s going to win,’ said Maude.
‘Why?’
‘Marian’s been practising for weeks.’
‘Oh.’
The contest was now down to the last three: Marian, Robin and one of the castle guard were waiting as soldiers positioned a single target at two hundred yards.
‘I’m surprised they can even see the target at that range,’ said Erasmus.
‘Perhaps it’s because they don’t wear bits of glass in their eyes,’ said Maude.
Erasmus grinned. ‘You could be right,’ he said.
‘What will you do when the contest’s over?’
‘I’ll have to leave. My time machine’s in the great hall.’
Maude paused for a moment – Erasmus was surprised to see that she looked slightly embarrassed. After deliberating for a few moments, she looked him full in the face.
‘Take me with you,’ she said.
Erasmus shook his head. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘It could do as much damage to history as my staying here.’
‘Couldn’t you just fix it up like you ’ave with Robin?’
Erasmus sighed. ‘I wish it was that simple,’ he said. ‘You see, it’s not the fact that you’d be with me – it’s the fact you wouldn’t be here. What if you were going to have children later on?’
‘Who with?’
‘I don’t know, but let’s say you were going to meet some nobleman and get all starry-eyed.’
‘There couldn’t be anyone else,’ said Maude.
‘You mustn’t fight it. What if your great grandchild was supposed to end up as heir to the throne?’
‘Does ’e?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Erasmus. ‘That’s the problem. If I could guarantee that taking you with me would have no impact on the future, I would, but I can’t take that chance.’
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