The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis (17 page)

“Zounds!” Jean said. “Even I would not recognize thee, Robyn.”

Alan a’Dale flinched. “God’s teeth, thou art as comely as a hog!”

Tuck growled his displeasure.

Robyn tried to grin, but the waxy face craters wouldn’t allow him. So he nodded and said, “I only hope to fool Sheriff Marc.”

“Thou willst, Robyn,” Miriam said. “Just remember, the earl tends to cough a lot and then spits it all out.” She puckered her face in disgust.

Treena gagged. “Just when you thought you’d heard it all.”

“Is he ready?” Melody asked. “They’ve almost gone through all of the archers.”

Robyn turned on his stilts—the silky breeches concealing them perfectly—and bowed regally toward Melody. She smiled and curtsied.

“Hey, what about Robyn’s bow?” Jordan asked. “It got sliced in half.”

Miriam sighed. “Here, Hodekin.” She passed Robyn her longbow and arrows. “’Twill do thee well on the archery field.”

Robyn attempted to smile, but it was pointless. “I thank thee, Miriam. I shall take good care of thy bow.” He slid a finger over its length.

Miriam shrugged. “’Tis thine to keep.”

Robyn glanced at her warily. “But, Miriam, thou lovest thy bow.”

Miriam glanced Amanda’s way. She shook her head. “’Tis time I grew up, Hodekin.”

“You’d best get going, Robyn,” Melody said, patting his shoulder. “And remember what I taught you—above all, focus first.”

“Aye, milady,” Robyn replied. “’Tis the whole task of being an archer, not just hitting the target, which makes thee great.”

“You taught him that?” Professor Lucas asked in astonishment. Then he winked at her. “Ever thought of becoming a professor?”

Melody giggled. “And give up my job as a Timekeeper? Never!”

Amanda watched Robyn hobble off into the crowd to get to the end of the line of archery contestants. Miriam had explained that the tournament included three different tests of skill in order to eliminate the worst from the best. The first was distance shooting—a test of endurance, where the archers must shoot two rounds of six arrows on a target fifty strides away, then four rounds of six arrows on a target seventy-five strides away, and finally six rounds of six arrows on a target one hundred strides away. The second test was speed shooting where the archer must shoot as many arrows as possible into a target. Miriam said that the best count she had ever seen was eighteen arrows. The final test, which sounded like the most exciting to Amanda, was the elimination round. Only one arrow was used, and the archer who came closest to hitting the bull’s-eye won the tournament and the prize—a silver arrow and purse full of gold.

Keeping low, Amanda, her fellow Timekeepers, and Robyn’s friends hid behind a tent surrounded by red and white banners. Alan a’Dale sat cross-legged next to her, plucking on his lute. He’d mumble out a few words, shake his head, growl and grunt, then start again.

Amanda watched with anticipation as Robyn showed his true skill with the longbow throughout the first event. Every now and then, she heard Robyn cough then spit on the ground. Even the crowd seemed pleased and cheered him on. Robyn was definitely the underdog in this tournament. Sir Guy still led the way, but Robyn was catching up with each arrow he nocked. The second event proved Robyn definitely had the right stuff, as he shot an amazing twenty-two arrows to Sir Guy’s nineteen. The tournament was now tied.

They were finally down to the last event when Amanda noticed that all of Robyn’s arrows were either broken or split. He would need replacements and soon. Slowly, Amanda crept away and started searching the grounds, careful not to be spotted by the sheriff’s men. She spied a pile of arrows next to the entrance of another tent. She smiled. This was Robyn’s lucky day. Amanda crouched behind carts and people and lurked in the shadows until she reached the tent. She scored a fistful of arrows, then turned to head back, but was stopped short by an armored hand on her shoulder. Swallowing hard, she followed the gleaming arm up to stare at the biggest, most intimidating knight she’d ever seen glaring down at her. His gauntlets were spiked and his helm had feathers sprouting out of its top like a hiccupping peacock. A somber growl erupted through his visor. Amanda closed her eyes, feeling the knight’s steely hand start to squeeze her shoulder, and hoped he wouldn’t pop off her head like a ripened zit.

Clank!
Amanda opened her eyes, thinking someone had hit an iron wall. The knight eased up on her shoulder, dropped his arm, wobbled, then started to plunge toward her. She sidestepped her metallic nemesis in time. The knight landed face first into a mud puddle. Professor Lucas stood in front of her, swinging a club with metal spikes. He didn’t seem very pleased with her.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, young lady?” the professor asked.

She grinned like a sharp sales lady. He didn’t seem to buy it though, so Amanda cleared her throat and said, “Robyn needs more arrows, Professor. All of his are busted.”

Professor Lucas rubbed his stubbly chin and nodded. “Then we’d better get him some. Quick, help me drag this knight into that tent. I’ll put on his armor to hide my identity from Tarbush and the sheriff so that I can deliver the arrows to Robyn.”

Amanda rallied the others and brought them back to the tent. Inside, Jean and Miriam helped Professor Lucas on with the armor—which took a lot of grunting and groaning on the professor’s behalf. Some of the armor fit, some of it didn’t. Melody found a quiver, and Treena looked for the straightest and sharpest arrows to put in it. Jean strapped the sword, scabbard and belt around the professor’s waist while Miriam hastily placed the helm on his head. There—one knight in shining armor ready for duty.

A gasp was uttered near the tent’s entrance. “What hast thou done with milord, rogues!”

Amanda turned. A boy with tangled blond hair and killer blue eyes glared at them. He tried to scowl, but he was too pretty. The dark, flowing tunic and breeches he wore made him look almost harmless, with the exception of a long knife strapped to his belt. He reached for the knife about the same time Jordan whacked him from behind with a shield. His eyes rolled, and down he went with a thud. Tuck wandered over to sniff him, then lifted his leg and peed on him.

“Who’s the douche?” Drake asked.

“’Tis the knight’s squire,” Jean replied, poking him with his staff.

“Aye, and a soggy one at that, I’d wager,” Much added.

Miriam groaned. “God’s wounds, he will be missed on the field. ’Tis the truth, a squire’s duty is to follow and serve his knight.”

Amanda looked at the grounded squire, then glanced up at Jordan. She smirked. “Then the knight shall have his squire. How about it, Jockstrap? The squire looks like he’d be about your size. All you’d have to do is carry the arrows and keep your face covered.”

Melody snapped her fingers. “That’s brilliant, Amanda! This way, everything will appear normal and their moves won’t be suspicious.”

Jordan’s mouth twitched. “Not brilliant. Not gonna do it. Not wearing something that Tuck did his business on.”

“Oh, come on, Jordan,” Treena said. “There’s a hooded cloak and fresh pair of hose on the table. Just wear them over your clothes. What have you got to lose?”

Jordan frowned. “My dignity. I don’t do hose.”

Drake and Ravi stifled a laugh. Melody waved them off.

“We all have to make sacrifices, Jordan,” Professor Lucas said, pushing up his visor. “What do you say, tiger? We’d be a team.”

Jordan grunted. “Easy for you to say. You get to wear the cool armor.” He sighed deeply. Amanda could tell Jordan was caving fast. “Fine, I’ll do it, but if anyone says one thing about this when we get back home, I swear I’ll—”

“Lighten up, Jockstrap, your secret’s safe with us,” Amanda cut in. “Besides, we’re Timekeepers, who we gonna tell?”

After a quick change and some primping and preening, Jordan was good to go. Drake offered to carry his backpack while he escorted his uncle down to the field to offer Robyn the arrows as a gift. From inside the knight’s tent, Amanda watched the professor clank down the hill, followed by Jordan, trying desperately not to pull up his baggy hose. Both Drake and Ravi were still trying not to laugh. As Professor Lucas and Jordan got closer to Robyn, the crowd went wild.

A spectator yelled out, “Yea, ’tis Sir Gavin the Just!”

“Who?” Treena asked.

Much snorted loudly. He slapped his forehead.

“What’s up with him?” Drake asked.

Miriam shook her head. “’Tis not good. The people think they cheer their champion, Sir Gavin, a goodly knight who wins many tourneys. The crowd will demand a tilt.”

“What’s a tilt?” Ravi asked.

“They will wish to see a show of strength and prowess,” Jean explained.

“Meaning?” Treena asked.

Melody slapped her forehead. “Bloody hell, they want to see John joust.”

Amanda chewed her bottom lip. She did not want to see two knights on their armored horses charging at each other with long, pointy lances. Amanda wanted to see Robyn win the archery contest so that she and her time traveling cohorts could go home to White Pines.

“Do you think the prof knows anything about jousting?” Drake asked.

Ravi grunted. “Probably about as much as Jordan knows about wearing hose.”

There was a sudden hush in the crowd as Sheriff Marc sauntered over to stand next to Professor Lucas. He waved his arms in the air.

“Good people of Nottingham, thou shall have thy day! After my coz, Sir Guy, defeats the
lucky
Earl of Huntingdon with his next shot, Sir Gavin has agreed to delight you with his skills on the jousting field!”

Cheers, claps, and shouts ripped through the air.

A nasty jolt expressed through Sir Gavin’s armor told Amanda that Professor Lucas had agreed to no such thing. It was all a political ploy—the sheriff’s way of manipulating the people of Nottingham into thinking he cared about their wants and needs. Sheriff Marc led the professor off of the field so that the final shots could be taken. Jordan, with his head covered and down, shuffled over to where Robyn stood and passed him the quiver of arrows. Good. At least Robyn got what he needed. Jordan stalled momentarily and Amanda swore that she saw him flip Robyn a thumbs up sign.

Sir Guy, who was dressed completely in black, nocked his arrow, studied the target for a moment, then pulled back on his string and let the arrow loose. It was a perfect shot. Bull’s-eye. Dead center. Amanda gulped.

Next up was the Earl of Huntingdon—alias Robyn Hodekin, a.k.a. Robin Hood. He bowed before the cheering people and took his stance. Robyn carefully chose an arrow from his quiver and raised his bow. He calmly nocked his arrow, pulled it back, then paused for a least a minute, as if he were in a deep trance.

“Hurry up, Huntingdon!” Sir Guy heckled. “I would like to go spend my prize money before the tavern closes!”

Robyn ignored his jeers. He seemed to be in another world. Amanda knew this world well. It was the same place she visited when composing a poem. She smiled dreamily just as Robyn let his arrow go. It flew straight into Sir Guy’s arrow and split it in two. Amanda’s eye’s bulged at the moment of impact. Robyn had bettered his best! The crowd went crazy, clapping, stomping, and laughing as Sir Guy fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

The sheriff didn’t look too pleased as he marched over to Robyn and awarded him his prize. Robyn hungrily grabbed the purse of gold, stuffed it down his breeches, and then held up the silver arrow to share with the people of Nottingham. He started to back away but didn’t get far because a rut in the grass twisted his foot around. Stumbling, Robyn went down, fast and hard. He dropped the silver arrow as his stilts were ripped away from his body.

Sheriff Marc glared at him. “What trickery is this?” Then he gasped. “Robin Hood! Guards, seize yon rogue!”

Two guards roughly plucked Robyn up. Max Tarbush stormed over, grabbed Robyn’s face, and viciously squeezed it. Wax craters popped off and dropped to the ground. He laughed wickedly, making the hairs on Amanda’s arms rise. She shuddered as Tarbush dove into his jacket pocket and pulled out a set of playing cards. They glittered in the sunlight, and Amanda knew they were the same metallic razor cards he’d used to attack them earlier.

“We gotta do something,” Drake said.

“But what? We can’t fight a whole army of the sheriff’s men,” Ravi replied. “That would be suicide!”

Panicking, Amanda reached for the Timekeepers’ log to look for some kind of clue they could use to help Robyn. She stared at the riddle she had written what seemed a lifetime ago. She read it over again and again. Nothing clicked for her. The sound of a lute strumming near the tent broke her concentration.

“Muse? Where art thou?” Alan a’Dale asked as his feet padded through the grass.

She rolled her eyes. “In here, Alan.”

Alan a’Dale swaggered into the tent like a rooster claiming his hen. “I’m done with my gest, muse. Listen to my first verse.”

Amanda shook her head. “Alan, I don’t have time—” His music drowned out the crowd momentarily, allowing her to pay attention to his lyrics, to hear what he had to say.

“Robin Hood in Sherwood stood. Hooded and hosed and shod. Four and twenty arrows he shot. And no one thought he could.” Alan a’Dale sang, whistled, and plucked. “And no one thought he could—”

Her body hummed in harmony listening to Alan’s music. The answer to the Timekeeper riddle hit her like a bolt from the blue. Yes, Ravi was right—they couldn’t fight a whole army—at least not with weapons. But they could fight with
words
. Words of power and justice that would restore the balance Belial had disrupted here.

Amanda banged the log shut. “Even the score! We’ve gotta even the score!”

“Great. Sault’s popped a few brain cells,” Drake muttered.

“No, listen, Drake, remember what you said to Crowley? About how Timekeepers are here to create chaos so that order can continue?”

Drake nodded. “So?”

“So it’s time to do just that! We have to start spreading the
good news
about the
real
Robin Hood. Tell as many people as we can what we’ve learned about him, about his adventures, and what he does for the poor of Nottingham. That way, the people will side with Robyn. It’s not lies, it’s the truth. We have to split up and tell everybody we can find about this living legend!”