by David Skuy
Pip didn’t need Robin Hood tonight. He hurried to retrieve a handcart and loaded three flour bags, and then went to the small barn and added two bags of vegetables and a bag of apples. Pip pulled the cart out of the barn. It got stuck in a rut in the ground.
“C’mon, Little Pip,” he taunted himself. “Pull!”
“What are you doing?” a girl’s voice whispered.
Pip practically jumped out of his skin.
“I … Kolby asked me to …”
“It’s us,” Harold said.
Pip dropped his head. “You scared me to death. What are you doing here?”
“I think you should tell us,” Lucy said.
Pip looked around nervously. “We don’t have time. Let’s just go.” He gave the cart a tug.
“Pip? You’re stealing food? Why? We’ll be at the market tomorrow.”
“It’s not for me,” Pip said. “The baron won’t even notice. I want Merec and his family to have it.”
“It’s stealing,” Harold said.
“It’s not,” Pip said. “It’s what Robin Hood does. He takes a little bit from rich bad people and gives it to the poor.”
“Not this again,” Lucy said. “You promised.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help people,” Pip said.
“This seems like a bad idea,” Harold said.
“Why are you here?” Pip said.
“I heard you get up. We followed you,” Lucy said.
“Well … are you going to help?” Pip said.
Lucy sighed. “What’s the plan?”
“We just have to pull this cart to Merec’s cottage and then bring it back. It’s the middle of the night. Everyone is asleep,” Pip said. He pulled on the cart, but the wheel had become too tightly lodged in the rut.
“Fine, let’s hurry,” Lucy said.
Pip and Lucy pulled and Harold pushed from the back — and the wheel popped free.
“Good,” Harold said. “Let’s go quickly. Someone is sure to see us.”
Pip heard some cows mooing in the distance. Barda would love to have fresh milk every morning, but Merec couldn’t hide a cow. But that didn’t mean … He let go of the cart.
“Harold, pull the cart with Lucy. I need to do something,” Pip said.
“What are you up to now?” Lucy said.
“Nothing,” Pip said. “Take the wagon to the top of the hill. I’ll meet you there. I promise.”
“Can’t we just go?” Harold said.
Pip grinned as he ran off toward the cows.
“Pip!” he heard Lucy cry.
Robin Hood was famous for doing the impossible. He might not be Robin Hood — but he had a few tricks up his sleeve.
Pip moved swiftly between the trees and in short order was kneeling up against a fence. What he saw took his breath away. The baron’s wealth was truly unimaginable. Hundreds of cows were grazing — hundreds. Twenty paces away was a small structure — a chicken coop — and inside chickens clucked quietly. In Nottinghamshire, the wealthiest families had only two dozen cattle.
Pip dropped behind some small bushes. He had half a mind to turn around and rejoin Lucy and Harold. Was this worth the risk? Barda’s dirty face popped into his head. He couldn’t quit. Robin Hood wasn’t a coward, and neither was he. He continued past the bushes toward the chicken coop.
Pip froze. Five paces away, a man slept on a mat. He was dressed like the other villagers.
Pip backed off and hid behind the bushes to collect himself. The man was probably a guard, there to ward off animals. He gathered his courage and tiptoed to the chicken coop. Most of the chickens were perched up on a long bench. A few of the more adventurous wandered on the floor pecking at seeds. He took a bag of seeds from a shelf and poured it out on the floor. The chickens raced over. Pip scooped up the plumpest bird and placed her into the seed bag, tossing some seeds inside to keep her quiet. He then grabbed another chubby chicken and put her in too. Slowly, he peeked out the door.
The cows were mooing loudly.
“Thanks, girls, for making some noise,” Pip whispered. “I’d help you if I could.”
The man was obviously used to it because he hadn’t so much as stirred in his sleep.
Oink! Oink! Oink!
Pip walked around the chicken coop. Some fifteen pigs wallowed in a pool of mud, penned in by a fence, a length of slender rope keeping the door shut. He smiled and untied the rope, quickly fashioning a loop. He put it around the neck of the closest pig and, with a couple of not-so-gentle tugs, managed to get her to rise from the mud. The pig seemed happy to go for a stroll, and she followed Pip willingly into the forest. They moved quickly and in no time had crested the top of the hill.
“He’s coming,” Harold exclaimed. “And he’s got a pig!”
“Of course he does,” Lucy laughed. “Pipper, you are the all-time rascal.”
“Thanks, my lady,” Pip said, bowing low. He opened the seed bag, and Lucy looked in.
“Chickens!”
“I figured they’d like fresh eggs,” Pip said. “Can you imagine what they’ll say when they see all this food? It’ll be the happiest day of their lives. We’ll put all this in the second cottage behind the main one. We’ll be gone before they wake up.”
Pip had never felt so happy, like a real outlaw — like a member of Robin Hood’s Band of Merry Men.
ip felt a hand shaking his shoulder.
“It is time to get up, Little Pip,” Aldwin whispered in his ear.
Pip yawned and rolled over. Aldwin shook him, laughing quietly.
“Unfortunately, we must make haste. We need to get to the fair to set up our stall in time for the afternoon crowd,” Aldwin said.
Pip opened his eyes. He was so tired. By the time they’d returned the cart to the village and doubled back, the sun had been almost peeking up from behind the baron’s manor.
The memory of what they’d done filled him with a warm feeling.
“We have some flatbreads for breakfast. We can eat as we walk,” Aldwin said.
“Where are Merec and his family?” Pip said. He sat up. He didn’t see them.
“They had to leave before sunrise to get to work,” Aldwin said. “Apparently, the baron is selling his flour and livestock at the Bradford Fair, and they were needed to prepare the wagons.”
Pip stiffened. Surely they wouldn’t notice what he’d taken.
“I let you sleep as long as I could,” Aldwin continued, “but we really are pressed for time. Do you want to ride in the wagon and go back to sleep? It was a long, tiring day for my Little Pip.”
“My name is not Little Pip,” he snapped.
Aldwin smiled. “You are right … Pip. It’s an old habit. I apologize.”
Pip wanted to stay angry. “I’ll walk. I’m not tired.”
Aldwin left without a reply. By the time Pip had roused himself and come outside, Aldwin was already leading Garrick and Aubrey down the forest path back to the main road. He could see Harold and Lucy sitting in the wagon.
Pip rolled his neck and followed. On and on he trudged. He was so tired and hungry. He wasn’t giving in, though. He’d show his father that he was no longer Little Pip. He’d walk to Bradford if it killed him.
“Pip, to the side of the road!” Aldwin yelled suddenly. He swung his arm to the right.
Pip heard the pounding of horses behind him. A large black carriage raced past. Pip covered his mouth and nose as dust flew about. There was a picture on the carriage door, an arrow and sword crossing in front, and in the four sections of the crossing arrow and sword were pictures of a deer, a knight, a church, and a bale of barley. Whoever was in the carriage was an important person — and very rich.
Four soldiers rode behind the carriage, and they kicked up even more dust. Pip coughed to clear his throat.
; Aldwin’s eyes had narrowed. “That was the Baron Geoffrey himself, and he appears to be in some haste. Let us resume our journey.”
Pip saw more horses galloping up the road. He stepped back, but this time the horses stopped. There were five men, all armed with swords. Pip’s eyes were drawn to one, sitting tall in his saddle, a powerful-looking man with broad shoulders and a big chest, thick arms and legs, and hair hanging below his shoulders. He removed a cloth from across his face.
Sir Lanford!
“Have you passed any travelers today on this road?” Sir Lanford demanded. He seemed not to recognize them.
Aldwin took off his hat and bowed.
“We are traveling with children, as you can see, good sir,” Aldwin said. “We have been going slowly and have passed no one. Others have passed us.”
“Did any of them have bags of flour this color?” Sir Lan-ford said. He held up an empty flour bag, the very kind that Pip had seen in the baron’s barn.
Aldwin took a long look.
“I do not believe so, good sir, but I cannot be certain,” Aldwin said. “There are so many people on the road today. There is a big fair in Bradford.”
“I know of it,” Sir Lanford said, with obvious annoyance. “How about a pig? Did you see anyone with a pig?”
“A boar or a sow, good sir?” Aldwin asked.
“A sow,” Sir Lanford said. “She was stolen from my lord, the Baron Geoffrey.”
“Dear me,” Aldwin said. “That is terrible.”
“Did you see the pig?” Sir Lanford pressed.
Lucy caught Pip’s eye. He shook his head and looked down.
“I have not seen any pigs on the road, good sir,” Aldwin said. “But I shall be vigilant.”
“There is a reward for anyone who catches the thief,” Sir Lanford said. “My lord will pay in gold — five pounds.”
“We shall certainly be on the lookout,” Aldwin said. “I have every confidence you will find the scoundrel.”
“People will sell their souls for five pounds,” Sir Lanford said. “I dare say we will find him — and then the thief will dangle from a rope — and that is a promise I will keep personally.” He looked over at the cart. “Are you going to the fair?”
“We are,” Aldwin said.
“Who are you?”
“I am Aldwin Draper, of Nottinghamshire.”
Sir Lanford peered more closely at Aldwin. “Have we met before?”
“Perhaps briefly … at Ackerley’s Inn. I sometimes stay there,” Aldwin said.
Sir Lanford gave him another hard look. “Perhaps. You look familiar.”
Another man came forward on his horse. He removed a red scarf from his face. Pip’s heart sank. Johnson’s lips curled into a cruel smile. He whispered in Sir Lanford’s ear. Sir Lanford pulled his sword from his sheath and pointed at Pip.
“Is this your son?” Sir Lanford asked.
“He is, good sir,” Aldwin said. He pulled Pip gently to his side. Pip felt his father’s body become tense.
“I have been told by my good friend here, Master Johnson, that your son lacks respect for his betters,” Sir Lanford said. “He behaved rudely to him yesterday … near that little town of yours … what is it called again?
“Nottinghamshire,” Johnson said.
“Forgive him, good sir,” Aldwin said. “He is only a foolish young boy. You know what youth is like. He says silly things. But he is a good boy, and very respectful, I can assure you.”
Sir Lanford put his sword back in its sheath. “Then let him prove it. Let me hear him cheer an oath to King John.”
Aldwin’s hand squeezed Pip’s shoulder.
Pip wanted more than anything to scream Long live King Richard the Lionheart — and long live Robin Hood. He would have, except he had to think about Lucy and Harold’s safety — and his father’s.
“Long live King John,” Pip said in a clear voice.
Sir Lanford nodded at Pip slowly, clearly pleased. He tugged on his reins, and his horse pulled away. “We ride back to Baron Geoffrey’s manor. Ha!” he cried.
His horse set off at a gallop.
Johnson smirked, and then he and the other men raced off close behind. Aldwin took out a cloth from his sleeve and wiped his face. Pip felt his father’s gaze upon him.
“He is an awful man,” Harold said.
“I can only imagine he is searching for one of the baron’s peasants, driven to steal by hunger, no doubt,” Aldwin said.
“What do you think will happen … if they catch him?” Lucy said.
Aldwin’s expression turned sad. “It will not go well for the thief. The Baron Geoffrey is not known for his willingness to forgive.” He offered a smile. “Let us continue our little journey,” he said, as if nothing had happened. Aldwin shook the reins. Aubrey and Garrick kept eating grass from the side of the road.
“I am sorry to interrupt your little snack, dear friends,” Aldwin laughed. “I do need you to go back to work.” He shook the reins again. The horses raised their heads. Aubrey let out a snort and Garrick kicked the ground a few times, as if to show their unhappiness, but after a final shake of the reins by Aldwin, they began to walk forward.
Lucy motioned for Pip to join them on the wagon.
Pip shook his head. He wasn’t giving in.
Lucy pounded the blankets and glared at him. She looked angry. Pip scrambled up — but only to find out what she wanted.
“I’m not tired,” he began.
“I don’t care,” Lucy hissed. “What if they find out?”
“They won’t,” Pip said. “They’d never search a rundown shack in the forest. Why would they?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. She began to twirl her hair. “It makes sense that they’d search the baron’s peasants.”
“I … um … maybe. But I doubt it,” Pip said uneasily. “They don’t live in the village with the other peasants. They wouldn’t believe Merec would come all the way to the baron’s barn and steal that stuff.”
“Why not? We did,” Lucy said.
“I did it, by the way,” Pip said.
“We helped, so that means we did it too,” Lucy said.
“She’s right,” Harold said. He bit into his lower lip.
“Okay. It doesn’t really matter. Anyway, they obviously don’t know who did it yet, and that’ll give them time to hide everything — or better yet, eat it. Trust me. It’ll be fine … and we did a good thing. Think of Barda eating roasted pork for the next week, and bread made with that flour. Think how happy it will make him.”
Lucy gave her hair a quick twirl and then let it go. “I sup-pose so. I’m just worried about them.”
“Me too,” Harold said.
“I’m worried also,” Pip said, “but more about what they’ll do when that food runs out. They’re still going to be in the same place, working themselves to the bone, barely getting enough to eat, and this is the harvest time. What happens during winter?”
They didn’t answer. Pip lay down, too tired to resist the lure of the soft blankets. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to talk about it anymore. He hadn’t been entirely honest, though. He was worried about Merec and his family, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what Sir Lanford had said — “the thief will dangle from a rope.” He also couldn’t stop thinking about the oath he’d been forced to say. It left a bitter taste in his mouth that stayed with him all the way to Bradford.
resh bread.”
“Wine by the cup.”
“Jousting matches at four bells.”
Pip’s head spun trying to take it all in. Stalls lined each street offering barley, wheat, oats, apples, cheese, onions, garlic, cabbage, carrots, and spices — every type of food imaginable. There were animals too — geese and swans and pigeons and chickens. The fair was like a magical world.
Aldwin led them along a wide street, with houses on either side decorated with large flags and banners or the coats of arms of famous families, and also the colors of Prince John and the Sheriff of Nottingham. A mad frenzy seemed to have afflicted everyone. Pip was jostled and tossed about by people running to and fro, for what reason he could not guess. Lucy and Harold kept up an excited chatter.
They entered a cobblestoned square, and again Pip’s breath was taken away by its size. Nottinghamshire had a main square, and it could fit into the corner of this one. There were hundreds of tables and booths set up, displaying the most wonderful things.
“We are space number 26, over there,” Aldwin said. He pointed to an empty spot at the far side of the square. “Children, it will take some time to set up. I imagine you are hungry and want to see the great Bradford Fair. Am I not right, Pip?”
“Yes, Father,” Pip said.
Aldwin took out his purse. “Rather than dine with a boring old man like me, why don’t you take a walk around and buy some of the wonderful treats to eat. It really is quite amazing what you can find. There are people here from all over the kingdom, even from as far away as France and Italy.”
Aldwin gave them each a silver shilling. Pip put it in his pouch and tucked it under this shirt.
“Thank you, Uncle Aldwin,” Harold said.
Lucy gave Aldwin a hug.
“Let’s go,” Pip said coldly.
Aldwin’s smile became strained. Pip couldn’t bring him-self to say thank you. The image of his father cringing before Sir Lanford still haunted him. The best he could muster was an awkward goodbye, and together they set off.
“This is the biggest, most amazing place I’ve ever seen,” Harold said, after they had walked around a bit. “Everywhere I look I see something I’ve never seen before.”
Pip had to force himself to stay gloomy. The Bradford Fair really was amazing. First they listened to the most beautiful music, played by a group of men wearing brightly colored costumes and big floppy hats; while they played, three young women, their arms and legs bedecked with bracelets, danced in a feverish circle, their feet twirling in the dirt, their earrings dangling madly. In the next square, they found another group of stalls with fabrics, scarves, and clothing, some of it so bright and sparkling it was hard to look at. Lucy made them stop at each stall.
