by Wendy Mass
Kylea also came up with the idea of causing a distraction at the wedding so we could steal Robin away. She borrowed the dresses and hats from the theater department at school and had the idea to stage a fight. It turned out to be one of the most fun things I’ve ever done.
Friar Tuck really came through for everyone, too. We brought Will back to the school, and he explained what was going on (leaving out the part about him living on a spaceport and me on another planet!). Friar Tuck said he couldn’t participate in our plan (or Robin’s) directly, but he wouldn’t stop us, either. In the end, he agreed to provide backup in the form of his fellow friars from neighboring villages, in case they were needed. Without them, we’d likely all be in jail right now for disrupting the peace.
I’d expected the sheriff’s castle to be more of, well, a castle. Like the way the medieval castles on Earth used to be — enormous structures with high stone walls, and moats with drawbridges, and glass towers with turrets and acres of bright green lawns. This is more like a very large house. Certainly larger than any we’d passed, but a castle? No.
It is surrounded by a nice lawn, at least, with a small pond in the center with a lone duck floating in it. A high fence runs around the outer perimeter, along with guards armed with arrows, swords, and quarterstaffs. An even higher fence sits closer to the house itself.
Onlookers mill about everywhere on the lawn — all sizes of men, women, and children, some taking seats on the rows of wooden stands that rise ten levels up, others shooting arrows at straw targets set up in the open fields. Banners fly in the wind and jugglers entertain the crowd. This was what the barman had been talking about last week! The sheriff’s annual archery contest, of course! It’s the perfect cover. Friar Tuck should be here soon to judge the contest. I am eager to thank him.
Will stops his horse a few yards in front of the entrance. After helping Robin off, he walks over to talk to the guard at the gate. Robin starts wobbling toward us, his legs still bowed from sitting on the horse. I hop off and hurry to meet him while Kylea ties the horses to a gatepost.
“Nice outfit,” I joke. “You look awful.”
He grabs my hands and swings me around. “Will said my parents are alive! And they’re here!”
So I had heard Will right! “That’s amazing! How is that possible?”
He stops swinging me but doesn’t let go of my hands. I don’t complain. “Apparently my parents work for the government on secret missions. King Richard had hired them years ago to search the galaxy for habitable planets where people from Earth and the other high-tech planets can go when their resources run out — which, as you know, will be soon.”
Robin’s parents know King Richard? The one who used to bounce me on his knee?
The words keep spilling out of him. “After years of research and traveling the galaxy, they landed on this planet. They hadn’t detected it was inhabited since there’s no technology here yet. They sent the disappointing report to Richard, who was about to end his own mission and return home. But the message was intercepted by Prince John. He altered it to say that Richard should come here immediately to check it out.”
“So Prince John isn’t hiding Richard after all?” I ask, surprised. “He actually wanted Richard to see this place so the people of Earth could move here?”
Robin shakes his head. “No, he wanted to trap Richard here, and my parents, too. After sending the fake letter, Prince John sent a fake reply to my parents from Richard, saying that they should remain here until he arrives. Prince John’s men arrived first, and as soon as Richard’s airship landed, they captured Richard and my parents. They made a deal with the local sheriff to keep them here until further notice. Must have paid him a lot of money, or promised him power. Probably both.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Will and Kylea at the gate, dropping arrows into a quiver that they must have talked someone into giving them. I’m not ready to give Robin up yet, so I pull him a little farther away.
“I don’t understand the part you told me about getting the boxes, though, and about all of you being deleted from the interwebs?”
“I don’t understand that part, either,” Robin says. “Will didn’t know.”
I squeeze his arm. “This is huge. I’m very happy for you.”
“I’m happy for you, too. If we pull this off, you’ll have your king back. Then so much will change for the better for you on Earth.”
He’s right, I know he is. And I’m thrilled about it, of course. But I realized something the moment I saw him in the church today, when even blackened teeth and old, baggy clothes couldn’t hide the glint in his bright green eyes. It wasn’t only my brain that had been hungry. It was my heart, too. If we leave here, he will go one place, and I will go another, and I don’t think I can bear that.
As though he knows my thoughts, he pushes my hair off my face and says, “Somehow we’ll make this work.”
I believe him. But all I say is, “Hey, if it doesn’t, you can always go back to robbing the rich and giving to the poor.”
He laughs. “How do you know about that?”
Will and Kylea return before I can tell him he’s the subject of a new folk song.
“You’re in,” Will says, thrusting the equipment at Robin. “The first round starts in five minutes. You’ll need to get through that one to get us close enough to slip into the house. Don’t miss the target.”
Robin rolls his eyes. “When have I ever missed the target?” He slings the quiver and bow over his shoulder and begins lacing up the armguard. “How’d you get all this stuff, anyway?”
Kylea giggles. She and Will share a look. “Best not to ask,” Will says. “Just don’t break any arrows or Kylea will have to marry some guy’s cousin.”
Robin looks over at a group of men inside the gate and groans. “Not those guys!”
But sure enough, it’s the same group we encountered in the woods. I forgot they’d be here, too. I wish Kylea and I hadn’t left our big hats at the church. “Quick, Will, give me your friar’s robe. Those guys know who we are. They won’t recognize Robin, but they might remember me. They’d turn him in without a second’s hesitation.”
Will doesn’t argue; he unties the robe at the waist and slips it over his head. I slip it right back over mine and flip up the hood. We hurry past them and don’t look back.
Robin takes his place in line with the other archers while the rest of us take a seat on the benches. I lean over to Will. “What’s the plan for getting into the house after this?”
“Still working on that,” he replies.
That doesn’t inspire confidence.
A thin man dressed all in white raises a bugle to his lips and blows. He announces, “There will be five spots in the finals, and one winner. If anyone impales a spectator or another competitor with an arrow, they will be disqualified.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Kylea says sarcastically.
I don’t see the sheriff anywhere, nor Friar Tuck, who is supposed to be one of the judges. When I point this out to Kylea, she explains, “This is only the first round. They’ll be here for the finals.”
I can see why they wouldn’t bring the judges out yet. The first round drags on for hours; Robin is at the end of the line. Each arrow has to be pulled out, and the area cleared again before the next archer’s turn. Kylea and I are wilting. As the contestant directly before Robin steps forward and readies his bow, the man in charge announces that there is only one more spot in the finals. The first four spots have been taken by people who’ve gotten bull’s-eyes.
The contestant lowers his bow, wipes his brow, then raises it again with steady hands. His arrow soars right into the center of the bull’s-eye, and the crowd hoots and hollers. He raises his hands victoriously. The announcer shouts, “And we have our fifth!”
No one moves to get his arrow from the target like they had between the other turns. It’s over!
But Robin steps forward anyway. The announcer strides toward him
, waving for him to put down his bow, but Robin focuses only on the target in front of him. The crowd has quieted, everyone waiting to see what will happen.
With one swift motion, Robin loads his bow, aims, and lets his arrow fly. It slices though the air with an audible swoosh and splits the other man’s arrow cleanly in half! The two pieces fall to the ground soundlessly, leaving Robin’s arrow sticking out proudly from the center of the bull’s-eye. We all jump up, shouting and cheering along with the rest of the crowd. Robin stands patiently, waiting for the announcer to reach a verdict. I hold my breath. Finally the man nods and clasps Robin on the shoulder. “We have a sixth!”
Phew! The finalists and their guests (that’s us!) are led through the taller fence, past the pond and closer to the house.
“What if I could actually win this?” Robin says, his eyes bright. “I could give the money to the Merry Men.”
Will tilts his head at him. “You? Giving money away?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Sorry,” Will says. “As noble as it is, we can’t dangle you right beneath the sheriff’s nose. It’s too risky. This is our chance to get in the house.”
Kylea suddenly gasps. “I don’t think you’ll need to.” She points at the side of the house, where five people have just emerged. A mustached man dressed all in black with a silver star on his chest is first. This can only be the infamous Sheriff of Nottingham. He’s followed closely by the two deputies from the wedding. They’re leading out a man and woman who blink hard against the sunlight as though they haven’t seen it in a while. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a beard and a grim expression steps into view last.
My heart thumps. I’ve never seen him with a beard before. Men in The City are all clean-shaven. But it’s him. It’s King Richard! Kylea stretches out her arm to bar me from running to him. I hadn’t even realized my feet had started to move!
The deputies push them into chairs beside a raised wooden platform. They all three tilt their faces up to the sun, eyes closed. The woman wraps her arms around herself, almost protectively.
“It’s them,” Robin says, his voice shaking. “Those are my parents.”
And of course they have to be. Robin looks exactly like a younger version of his father. And he has his mother’s way of walking that almost makes it look like they’re skimming the ground.
Will’s arm shoots out to block Robin, who, like me, had started to move forward. “Wait,” Will says firmly. “We’ll have our chance, but it’s not now.”
Robin looks like he’s about to argue, but then nods and steps back.
“I had sort of expected them to be trapped in a dungeon or hidden in a high tower,” I admit to the others, “like in the old stories. But they’re not even handcuffed or anything. Not that I wish they were, of course.”
Will nods. “Your grandmother’s sources told her that Prince John paid the sheriff handsomely to keep them here, but instructed him not to treat them too harshly. He must have felt being trapped on this planet was punishment enough. They can’t leave without a ship, and he took theirs away.”
“Speaking of ships,” Robin asks him, “where’s yours?”
Will points to the woods beyond the house. “Due east. The coordinates led me right here.”
Once the new target has been set in place, the sheriff climbs up onto the raised platform and opens his arms wide. He smiles, but it doesn’t look friendly. It looks annoyed. And bored. Not a good combination. “Will the five — I mean six — remaining contestants please step forward.”
Will looks pained, with his lips tight and his brows furrowed. “You’ll have to see it through,” he tells Robin. “The sheriff doesn’t know who you are. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Got it, boss,” Robin says, tightening his armguard again. “I’ll try not to rupture anyone’s spleen with my arrows. Even the sheriff’s.”
Will starts to laugh, and then hiccups. That makes me and Kylea laugh, even though I don’t know why rupturing a spleen is funny.
Robin takes his place next to the others. He’s the youngest by a decade, but in his disguise no one could tell. One of the bald brothers who had bragged of his prowess with the bow and arrow is also among the finalists.
“Step forward and announce yourself,” the sheriff calls out. I look around for Friar Tuck but still don’t see him. Perhaps he got held up at the wedding.
One by one the men step forward and give their names. The crowd cheers and boos in equal measure. Robin is fifth in line, staring right at his parents, who are seated only ten yards away from us. What is he waiting for? Surely he won’t give his real name. Not when he’s on Wanted posters? After what feels like an eternity, Robin says, “My name is … Will Stutely.”
I let the air out. Beside me, I hear Will exhale with relief as well. Then, as the last man steps forward and opens his mouth, Robin speaks again. “No, that is a lie. My name is Robin. Robin of Locksley. And you have kidnapped my parents.” Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “And a king. I have come to take them back.”
A hush falls across the crowd. Will, Kylea, and I sink down in our seats.
Should have seen that coming.
At first the sheriff doesn’t move. He squints at me, as though trying to connect my name with the image of the person in the poster. “It is the man who ruined the wedding!” one of the deputies cries, shading his eyes to see me better.
Slowly, menacingly, the sheriff turns toward my parents. “Do you claim this man as your son, this outlaw who dresses in rags to lie and cheat his way into MY home?”
Before my parents can reply, King Richard jumps up from his seat and comes bounding toward me. The crowd gasps, and one of the deputies hurries after him. He has a dagger in his belt but has not reached for it. Perhaps he’s hoping the king will attack me for him.
But the king walks right by me and straight to Marian. She rises to her feet, her back straight and head high. She curtsies. “Hello, Your Majesty.”
“Marian Fitzwalter?” he asks, his eyes wide.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He sweeps her into his arms. “Marian! Little Marian all grown up into a beautiful young lady! I would know that lovely voice anywhere! You are a sight for sore eyes!”
Marian laughs, and I can hear the relief in it. “It is good to see you, too. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”
“Of course!” he booms. “You were the only child who laughed at my jokes!” He stands back to look at her. “But how are you here?”
Marian looks at me, and then back at the king. “It is a long story. But it must wait.” She gestures to me.
“Oh yes, of course,” the king says. “Family comes first.”
“They are not family!” the sheriff shouts from the platform. He whips around to face my parents. “Tell him he is mistaken and he is holding up the contest!” he bellows.
My father rises, resting his hand on my mom’s shoulder. She places a hand over his. “Our son,” my father begins. Then his voice cracks. “Our son … well, he wouldn’t look anything like you. I’m sorry.”
My heart sinks. Does my father so fear the sheriff’s wrath that he would respond this way? Will comes to stand beside me, and I’m grateful for the support. “Your disguise,” he whispers.
Of course! I snatch off the wool hat, which has matted down my hair with sweat, and look back up.
They still look at me blankly, this time with pity in their eyes. I look around at the crowd. Half have that same pitying look, the other half look angry. They want to get on with the contest, I’m sure. I can tell by the way the sheriff is clenching his fists that he’s close to exploding. I have to do something. There’s only one option left.
“Maybe this will help,” I say, dashing a few feet away to the pond. I stick my head under the water, scrubbing at my face as I do it. I emerge, flipping my head back so my hair flies off my face. Then I pull off the clothes to reveal my old green outfit from home. I’d worn it to give me conf
idence at the church. For a final touch, I yank my hat out of my pocket and plop it on my head. Then I smooth out the feather. Hopefully my father will recognize it.
Their reaction is instant. Growing up, I never imagined what it would be like to meet my parents, so I’m completely unprepared for the scene that is playing out now. My mother flies from the wooden platform — I swear her feet don’t even touch the ground. Then her hands are on my face, in my hair, her tears are flowing, and she’s making sounds that I’m not sure are supposed to come from a human. Like a cross between a squeak and a moan.
My father is here now, too. “You look just like me,” he says, his voice both foreign and familiar at the same time.
My mother is holding me now and rocking back and forth. “You’ve had a good life, right?” she keeps saying. “You’re happy and healthy?”
I nod my head, but I’m not sure she can tell. “Uncle Kent took very good care of me. Delta Z was great, and Will here —”
“We were going to explain it all when you got a little older,” she insists, too worked up to even glance over at Will. “We couldn’t take you where we had to go. We’d committed to this life of service, but it’s a dangerous one. We wanted you to have a stable life, and then when you were old enough to decide for yourself, we’d welcome you with open arms if you wanted to join us.” She burst into a new round of tears. “We thought it was best if we just left you once rather than leaving you over and over again. I hope we didn’t make a mistake.”
“I thought you were dead,” I manage to squeeze out. “All your boxes … they got delivered to Delta Z. And then we all got erased … records of us, I mean.”
My mother makes that strangling sound again. “I’m so sorry. Prince John must have sent our belongings when he took our ship. In case anything happened to us, we’d left instructions for you to receive them when you were older. He must have wanted to make sure no one would come searching for us. And most important to him, no one would know about the important work we were doing.”
The sheriff’s deputy suddenly yanks her away. I’m too stunned to react in time. My father does, though.
