Ghosts of Sherwood

by T. S. Maynard

  Alex covered Sean’s mouth with his hand. “Do you take golden eggs, Francis?”

  Francis pulled at his neckerchief. Embarrassed, he pulled out a yellow and black book titled “Franchises For Dummies.” He flipped through the pages, stopped on one, skimmed it with his finger, then snapped it shut with authority. Francis grimaced and looked up at Alex with disdain. “Yes, we accept golden eggs.” He then pulled out a map, spread it across his desk, and motioned for Alex and Sean to sit down.

  The map displayed a hodgepodge of lands, each marked with a different color. A few had a large black “X” across them.

  “We have any location you might desire — Oz, Neverland, Narnia, Middle Earth,” Francis said, now in posh salesman mode.

  Alex searched the map. “We’re interested in Richmond, but we’d like to visit first.”

  “I’ve not heard of Richmond. Is that even a real place?” Francis asked.

  “What are the Xs?” Sean asked.

  “Those are what I’d call fixer-uppers,” Francis replied.

  “We’re only interested in Richmond,” Alex said.

  “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Francis replied, regaining his arrogance.

  Alex threw up his hands. “Someone has to know Richmond.” He stood up from his seat and leaned across the desk and got right in Francis’s face. “Tell your supervisor that I’m willing to pay two thousand gold eggs and 60% of my income for Richmond.”

  Intimidated, Francis leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t used to someone bullying him back. “My supervisor is the king—King Arthur,” Francis said with emphasis. “Do you wish to speak to him?”

  Alex stepped back, now unsure, but Sean wasn’t. He jumped to his feet and shouted, “Yes!”

  Chapter 5

  Alex tapped his foot and bit his fingernails as he sat in Francis’s sales office, while Sean bounced in his chair, unable to contain his excitement over the prospect of meeting King Arthur. The two waited for over an hour before the king swaggered in. King Arthur sported a full beard, a long flowing red robe with white fur edges, and a gold crown with rubies on the tips. He was just as the books described him, except now in his fifties. The king’s presence dominated the room, and as an added measure, two attendants armed with notebooks and briefcases stood by his side.

  Sean stared, star-struck, while Alex bowed, but Arthur motioned him up. “No need to bow to me, young man.”

  “Are you really King Arthur?” Sean asked.

  Arthur nodded and approached Alex to shake hands.

  Alex looked him up and down with wide eyes. “You’re King Arthur!”

  “I think we’ve covered that. Shall we discuss business?”

  Arthur’s attendants popped to attention and unsheathed their pens in unison.

  “My understanding is you are in the market for a franchise. But first, you need to understand Camelot so you can create that magic in your own kingdom.”

  Sean smiled at his dad. The king was everything he’d imagined.

  “The philosophy of the franchise comes to us from The Magician who teaches that when people are making money, they’re happy. And happy people pay their taxes. And taxes allow the royal court to continue providing them a place to be happy. A win-win for all!” Arthur bellowed.

  Sean furrowed his brow. “You sound like one of my dad’s business books.”

  “Thank you, young sire.” Arthur smiled before turning to Alex. “As you’ve seen, Camelot is a living, breathing utopia. My knights and I have built a place where people can raise a family under the protection of the Roundtable. And for a small franchise fee and ongoing royalties, you can create your very own utopia anywhere you want.”

  “But the Knights of the Roundtable are supposed to protect people because they’re noble, not for money,” Sean said.

  Arthur patted Sean on the head. “Oh, it’s a relatively small fee commensurate with market rates for security services that involve risking one’s life.”

  Sean squinted with skepticism. Arthur glanced away, feeling a little guilty. “Do you know how dangerous it is protecting this kingdom from the likes of Robin Hood and Achilles?”

  “Did you say, Achilles?” Alex asked. Just the name of Achilles put Alex on edge.

  Arthur grew serious. “Yes, and his army grows stronger by the day. He’s already destroyed several franchises.”

  Alex pointed to the map. “The crossed out franchises?”

  Arthur nodded. “I believe Robin of the Dark Hood summoned Achilles with his sorcery.”

  “Robin Hood wouldn’t do that,” Sean said.

  Arthur chortled. “Robin would rather see this kingdom destroyed than prosper under The Magician’s guidance. Why else would he try to weaken and demoralize our defenses?”

  “What do you mean?” Alex asked.

  “He comes in the mist in the middle of the night and steals from anyone and everyone. There are nights where people awaken without even realizing they’ve been robbed, but they always know he’s paid a visit when they find an arrow stuck in their doorway. Sometimes he takes armor, swords, horses, or much worse. He’s stolen wives, uncles, and even children.”

  “He steals children?” Sean asked, not wanting to believe his hero could commit such a crime.

  Arthur looked Sean square in the eye and nodded. “Who will stand up to him if I don’t provide disability insurance? And don’t even get me started on funding the pension liability.”

  “You offer a fully funded pension plan?” Alex asked.

  Arthur grabbed the sides of his robe, puffed out his chest, and offered a smirk and proud nod.

  Alex bowed his head in a show of respect. “Who manages the assets?”

  “Dad!” Sean protested.

  “Right. Sorry. So, Arthur, I have to come clean. I’m not really in the market for a franchise.” Alex grinned sheepishly.

  Arthur’s voice boomed, “What? You’ve been wasting my time? Time is money, and as I just explained, money equals happiness. So, by the transitive property, you’ve made everyone less happy.” He turned to the attendant on his left. “Summon Merlin.”

  “The wizard?” Sean’s eyes lit up.

  “My attorney. I’ll see you in court.” Arthur pointed at Alex before exiting.

  Alex chased after Arthur with the map. “Please, I didn’t mean to waste your time. We need to get home right away. I have an important meeting. I just made partner.”

  Arthur looked back at Alex. “Partner?”

  Alex shook his head and explained in terms the king would understand. “I’ve been made ‘Lord’ of Biltmore & Baine.”

  “Oh, I see. That is important,” Arthur said.

  “Yes, so it’s imperative that I get back to Richmond immediately.”

  Arthur froze in his tracks. “Richmond, you say?”

  “You know it?” Alex asked.

  “Yes, I believe I know that place.”

  “Fantastic, let us know which way to go, and we’ll be out of your hair in a jiffy,” Alex said.

  Arthur stroked his chin and pondered. “We still have to resolve how you’re going to repay the kingdom for this little deception.”

  Alex chuckled and cowered. “I don’t actually have a golden goose.”

  Arthur held up his finger. “I have just the thing.”

  Chapter 6

  Alex stood in an archway leading to an outdoor arena. He stared at an old, rusty suit of armor, trying to figure out how to put it on.

  King Arthur approached.

  “There’s got to be another way,” Alex said.

  “One of my knights dropped out. I need a replacement,” Arthur replied.

  “Can’t you just go short-handed?” Alex asked.

  Arthur shook his head. “These games are a huge revenue stream for the kingdom. That stadium is packed with people who paid good money to see a show.”

  “If they’ve already paid, what does it matter?”

  “I need them to stay and buy concessions. And I need
them back for the next games. So, put on a good show, Sir Alex of Richmond.” Arthur patted him on the back and then left to take his seat in the stadium’s premium box.

  Alex peeked out the archway at the waiting crowd that drank ale and cheered with anticipation.

  Sean sat in the royal box in the middle of the stadium with Lady Guinevere. A vision of beauty in her mid-forties, Lady Guinevere smiled at her unexpected companion. “I’m glad you’ve joined us, young Sean. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Are you excited?”

  Sean stammered for a response. “I don’t know. My dad can’t go up against real knights. He sits behind a desk all day.

  Guinevere smirked. “Sounds familiar.”

  Arthur approached from behind with a sheathed sword displayed off his hip.

  Sean’s eyes locked onto the sword. “Is that Excalibur?”

  “The one and only.” Arthur withdrew the weapon, but the sheath proved much bigger than the sword. He handed it over to Sean, who examined the sword with less enthusiasm.

  “It’s so small,” Sean said.

  Guinevere only half attempted to conceal her chuckle.

  Frustrated, Arthur snatched the sword back. “Fine, you got me. It’s not the real Excalibur. That ruffian, Robin of the Dark Hood, stole it.”

  Guinevere piped up, “Well, maybe if you weren’t so cheap, you could’ve sprung for some security.” She leaned over to Sean. “Instead of hiring a guard, he stuck it in a fake rock assuming everyone would think that only the ‘great’ Arthur could pull it out.”

  Arthur snapped back, “Maybe I wouldn’t be so cheap if you didn’t going shopping for a new outfit every other day.”

  “I spend all my time shopping because you’re always off with your precious Lancelot. Sometimes I think the two of you are having an affair.”

  Arthur grumbled, “Lance and I work together, and he’s my friend. And furthermore, he doesn’t nag me about the color scheme of the royal drapes.”

  Sean covered his ears. “Stop.”

  Arthur and Guinevere froze.

  “You guys sound like my parents.” Sean looked down at his lap.

  Arthur and Guinevere eyed each other, embarrassed they were being scolded by a child.

  “I’m sorry. Is your mother here?” Guinevere asked.

  “No, they’re getting divorced.”

  “What’s divorced?” Arthur asked.

  “It means they won’t spend time together anymore.”

  Arthur stroked his chin. “Interesting. I’ll have Merlin look into that.”

  “My dad says she’s going to take all the money,” Sean added.

  Guinevere mocked, “Yes, do look into that, my dear.”

  A trumpet sounded.

  Arthur snapped forward in his chair and waved his hand at his wife. “Quiet now, woman, they’re starting.”

  Sean also leaned forward as the trumpeter lowered his instrument. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the incomparable and legendary Knights of the Round Table.”

  The crowd erupted with applause. Sean clapped until the knights waddled out from the archway. Most had barely squeezed their bellies into their armor.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Sean asked.

  Arthur hemmed and hawed. “Um, well, there are many business matters to tend to. They can’t train as much as they used to.”

  Guinevere muttered, “Or at all.”

  Sean shook his head, not wanting to believe these were the courageous men from some of his favorite stories. “But the Knights of the Roundtable are the greatest warriors that ever lived.”

  A large, overweight knight placed one foot in the stirrup, then he tried and failed to mount his horse. He kept hopping up, but managed only a few inches. The knight waved a squire over. With the squire’s aid, the knight managed another few inches, but still wasn’t close to a successful mount. He waved a second squire over. This sequence continued until there were four squires pushing him up onto his saddle. The entire process left the knight breathless.

  “Why don’t you tell him what you’ve done with the legendary round table?” Guinevere prodded.

  Arthur sprang up in his chair. “We use it for our weekly high stakes poker game. I’ve even had it outfitted with chalice holders.” Arthur smiled, but the disappointment in Sean’s eyes stung. He pointed down to the arena floor to change the subject. “Look, they’re about to announce Sir Lancelot.”

  On the field below, the trumpeter motioned to a knight in glistening armor. With a dramatic flair that rivaled Bruce Buffer, he announced, “Introducing, the seven-time tournament champion. The one. The only. Siiiiiiiiir Lancelot.”

  Lancelot sauntered forward. He looked like an out-of-shape Ken doll whose better days were behind him, but his ego had forgotten to tell him. Lance played to the crowd, holding his hand to his ear to encourage the cheering.

  Arthur clapped and whistled along with most of the stadium. As the crowd settled, Arthur turned to Sean. “Lance has had a run of injuries, but he’s the best by far.”

  Guinevere rolled her eyes.

  The trumpeter continued with the introductions of the other knights until it was Alex’s turn. “And give it up for Siiiiiiir Alex of Rich-mond.” The trumpeter did his best to hype Alex’s entrance, but no one had heard of Sir Alex of Richmond, who schlepped out in clunky armor that squeaked with every step. The crowd fell silent, except for a couple of courtesy claps.

  Sean stood up to support his father. “C’mon, Dad. You can do it!”

  Alex tipped his helmet to Sean, grateful for his support.

  The trumpeter moved on. “And finally, Siiiiiiir Gal-a-haaaaad.”

  Galahad strolled out from the archway. In his mid-thirties, he stood out by his bushy facial hair and physique. He was the only knight that looked the part. As he moved further into the arena, one section of the cheap seats erupted with boisterous cheers.

  Arthur leaned over to Sean. “Galahad is a lazy oaf with the most inefficient franchise way out in the forest. His people are just like him.” Arthur motioned to the motley bunch with tattered clothes high in the stands, laughing and enjoying a few ales. “They sit around playing games all day instead of working.”

  Galahad mounted his steed. An attendant handed him a lance, and he set up for a joust. On the opposite side, Sir Lancelot approached his mount.

  “Lance will put him in his place,” Arthur told Sean.

  Lancelot grabbed the saddle, slipped his left foot in a stirrup, and pulled, but he didn’t move. He hopped on one foot and pulled harder, trying to gain enough momentum to get himself up and onto his horse. Realizing the futility of either mounting the horse or perhaps winning the joust, Lancelot pulled out of the stirrup, limping and holding his hamstring. The crowd and Arthur gasped. Lancelot tipped his hat to Galahad; he was withdrawing. Arthur sank into his seat.

  Meanwhile, Alex, a nervous wreck, now paced in his ill-fitting armor inside the archway, waiting for his turn. An attendant brought his horse over—a stunning silver stallion. Alex stopped in his tracks and studied the horse. “Silver?”

  The animal stared back with soft eyes. Alex shook his head. It couldn’t be possible. Even though it may have been a while, years of riding made it almost second nature to Alex. He mounted the horse without difficulty and trotted him into the arena.

  Sir Percival, an ox of a man who might weigh more than the horse he was perched atop, waited on the other end of the arena. He struggled to keep himself upright while holding his lance and shield. The two combatants positioned themselves as the trumpeter raised a flag in the middle. The flag dropped, and the two horses raced toward each other. Alex eased into his saddle and positioned his lance. To his surprise, he felt comfortable on his steed. His movements were fluid and effortless in contrast to Percival, whose horse could barely walk under the stress. Percival scrambled to raise his lance, but it was too late. Alex struck a blow with his weapon that sent Sir Percival’s massive frame tumbling with a thud.

  The crow
d erupted with cheers, and Sean flew out of his seat. “Go, Dad!”

  “Impressive.” King Arthur stroked his chin and looked on with interest.

  As the games continued, two chubby knights barreled toward each other on horseback. One got bucked off before they even met. The other knight raised his shield in celebration before getting bucked off his own horse.

  Sir Galahad started the semi-finals, and this time his opponent faced him but wished he hadn’t. Galahad delivered a vicious blow that sent the opposing knight flying. The crowd gasped.

  Alex looked even more confident in his second round and out-dueled his opponent, who fumbled with his lance and slid off his horse.

  Minutes later, the trumpeter stood in the middle of the arena, flanked by Alex and Sir Galahad. “And now the joust finals. Siiiiiiir Alex of Rich-mond versus Siiiiiiir Gal-a-had of Sher-wooooood. May the best knight win.”

  Each man headed off to his respective side. Sean sat on the edge of his seat, filled with both excitement and fear for his father.

  “Perhaps it’ll be your dad to put Sir Galahad in his place,” Arthur said.

  The trumpeter dropped his flag, and the two sped toward each other. Galahad charged like a freight train, but so did Alex, who saw an opening and thrust his lance forward. Galahad raised his shield and deflected Alex’s lance while bringing his own weapon over the top. He jammed it right into Alex’s midsection and sent him flying to the ground with a raucous crash.

  Galahad’s rowdy supporters erupted. Sean stood up with his hand to his mouth as his father laid motionless on the ground. After several tense seconds, Alex’s armor squeaked from movement. Alex straightened his legs, gathered himself, and stood up to a round of applause for the effort. Sean exhaled with relief.

  Alex limped back to the archway, but he had little time to regroup. It took the stadium crew only a few minutes to set up for the second event. The winner of the joust received the honor of going first, so Sir Galahad stepped forward. He wore a look of consternation and took several deep breaths. He held a wooden sphere the size of a soccer ball, which he rolled towards a group of wooden pins. His shot knocked down only a couple. The crowd offered a courtesy clap, even though it was a lousy shot.