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.’
Maude nodded solemnly. ‘I understand,’ she said.
‘You don’t have to forget about me,’ said Erasmus, ‘just don’t let the memory stop you from getting on with your life.’
There was a loud ooh from the crowd as the guard’s arrow missed the target and thudded into the ground beside it. Robin was now lining up to take his first shot and Erasmus watched intently, squinting at the target to see if there were any arrows in it yet. There weren’t, and Robin’s arrow thudded into the centre of the target effortlessly. Marian nodded at him and spoke, but the words were inaudible at a distance, then she drew her bow and fired.
The crowd held their collective breaths as the arrow sailed through the air. A heartbeat of silence, then another, then the arrow drove into the centre of Robin’s and split it like a dead twig. The crowd were aghast and it was several seconds before they began to clap. Robin looked at the target, his mouth open in shock, then looked into Marian’s eyes. Realisation flowed across his face like a ripple on a pond and he grabbed her round the waist, pulled her towards him and kissed her. The crowd seemed unclear on how to respond to such a display, but eventually settled on a cheer.
Erasmus blushed: even though it was roughly what he’d hoped would happen it was still slightly embarrassing. Then he felt a touch on his arm and looked down at Maude, who was watching the pair with tears in her eyes. He patted her hand and turned back to look at the couple as they walked confidently hand in hand to the podium to collect their prize.
The announcer, who’d seemed more shocked that a nun would kiss a beggar in public than that she had won the archery prize, held the arrow out to Marian.
‘The winner,’ he yelled. ‘Sister Mary of Sleaford.’
Marian took the arrow in her free hand and held it aloft. Erasmus smiled with pride – everything was coming together. He glanced briefly at the Sheriff, who was sitting on a wooden throne in the grandstand, smiling furtively. It did cross his mind to wonder why the Sheriff seemed so happy, but Erasmus was caught up in the moment and didn’t dwell on the matter. He returned his gaze to the happy couple but, as he did so, a movement caught his eye and he turned his head to follow it.
To the left of the grandstand, a group of soldiers were creeping forward and, at their head, Gisburne was sighting along a crossbow. There was no time to warn anyone, no time to run towards him. Time seemed to slow down as Erasmus, acting on pure instinct, reached into his belt pouch and withdrew the board rubber he’d inadvertently brought back from the twenty-first century. With a skill born of countless hours teaching unruly teenage boys, he brought his arm forward and hurled the rubber through the air, just as Gisburne’s finger was closing on the catch.
Heartbeats seemed like seconds.
The schoolroom missile caught Gisburne on the temple and he wheeled over, falling on his back and firing the crossbow bolt over the grandstand, where it caught the grinning Sheriff and pinned him to his chair by his shoulder. The crowd screamed in panic and the soldiers charged forward, weapons drawn, to capture the winners. Erasmus’ board rubber, however, had alerted the outlaws to the soldiers’ presence; Marian and Robin drew their own swords and stood back to back, circling slowly, whilst the other outlaws armed their bows, the men casting aside their cloaks for better aim.
Maude smiled at Erasmus, then set an arrow to her bow and joined her companions. The soldiers tried to encircle Robin and Marian, but gradually realised that a ring of archers was forming around them. Will and Alice, meeting as the circle closed, exchanged glances and Erasmus noted, with a certain mischievous humour, that the look that passed between them went somewhat beyond a professional evaluation of the competition. Feeling the outlaws now had the situation under control and the level of distraction was at its height, he sidled around the attentive crowds and sprinted towards the castle.
Much as he’d hoped, he found the gateway to the castle apparently abandoned: the Sheriff’s entire guard must have been divided between engaging the outlaws in front of the grandstand and guarding the entrance to the outer bailey to prevent their escape. Erasmus slipped through the inner bailey and into the keep itself. From his earlier visit, he seemed to recall that the great hall had been on the first floor. He slipped through the kitchens, startling a scullery maid and causing her to drop a platter containing dressed peacock, then carried on up the servants’ stairs to the west end of the hall.
He found his privy was no longer hidden when he entered. Instead it stood, rather incongruously, to the left of the Sheriff’s chair on the raised dais. Erasmus hurried over to the machine and checked it for any signs of tampering. The access panel in the base appeared to be unmoved and, apart from a few scratches on the lock, there didn’t seem to be any evidence of an attempt at entry. Erasmus took the key from his pocket and was just about to place it in the lock when a voice from behind startled him and caused him to drop it.
‘Going somewhere?’ the voice dripped with grim theatricality, like a man performing Richard III in a lunatic asylum. Erasmus turned to see Deloial emerging from behind a curtain looking every bit the tragedy. His trousers were shredded, showing blood-soaked bandages around one thigh and a variety of scratches, presumably caused by the rocks in the river. His head was bandaged and there was now additional padding around his left eye. His right arm was in a sling, but he held his sword purposefully in his left as he limped forward, dripping water all over the wooden dais.
‘How did you—’ Erasmus began.
‘Survive?’ Deloial completed his sentence. ‘I was lucky. I washed up by the Trent where a priest was good enough to bind my wounds.’
‘But how did you get here?’ Erasmus put the question he’d actually wanted to ask.
‘The priest had a horse.’
‘You stole a horse from a man who saved your life?’
‘Well, he won’t need it any more. Not where he’s going.’
Erasmus was revolted, but there wasn’t time to respond. He reached to his side, but realised he no longer had a sword or even a dagger. He was defenceless, a madman was approaching him with a sword and the key to the time machine was somewhere on the floor. All in all, the day appeared to be going downhill.
‘It was a simple job,’ Deloial said, talking to himself it seemed, ‘that’s what the Sheriff said. “Just keep an eye on this outlaw,” that’s what he told me. “I don’t trust him,” he said, “but if you’re there then we can easily dispose of him.” Simple, you see?’
Erasmus nodded and backed away.
‘He never warned me about you,’ Deloial continued. ‘Oh, Gisburne told me about the encounter in the forest, but the Sheriff said he was mad. Said he was having delusions – that men don’t turn up just to throw you off of your horse then step into privies and disappear. He lied. To me.’
Erasmus took another step backward and nearly stumbled on the edge of the dais. Deloial continued his slow advance.
‘When I first saw you, I thought you were harmless – a nosey bastard, for sure, but no threat to anyone. If I’d have known then what I know now, I’d have killed you when I met you. Well, that’s not a mistake a man makes twice.’
Deloial raised his sword. There was nowhere for Erasmus to go. He closed his eyes and prayed the end would be quick, but it didn’t come. There was a clattering sound and Erasmus opened his eyes to see Deloial lying on his back with an arrow in his chest. The arrow was fletched with a pale green flight.
‘Maude?’ he said incredulously, turning to see his rescuer, still dressed as a nun, standing at the other end of the hall.
‘You didn’t think I’d let you go without saying goodbye, did you?’ said Maude.
Erasmus smiled and held out his arms. Maude ran to him and embraced him, her grip almost crushing him as she did so. She kissed him tenderly on the lips then let him go and stepped back, her eyes still wet with tears.
‘Goodbye, m’duck,’ she said.
‘Goodbye, Maude,’ said Erasmus.
‘If you ever find it’s safe to… y’know…’
‘Get in your britches?’
Maude smiled.
‘I’ll come back,’ said Erasmus. He bent down to pick up his key, then approached the time machine and placed it in the lock. After one more glance back at Maude’s tear-stained face and a sigh, he opened the door and stepped inside. Then, after a moment’s thought, he came back out and took Deloial’s sword. He gave Maude another brief kiss on the cheek, then went back into the time machine and closed the door.
It was time to go home.