by David Skuy
Lucy put her arm around Harold’s shoulders. “We’ll make sure the bad sheriff doesn’t hurt you,” she said, laughing.
“I’m not afraid to go,” Harold said weakly.
“Follow me,” Pip said.
They followed the crowd as it turned a corner and con-tinued along a wide street.
“I think they’re headed to Cathedral Square,” Archie said.
“Have we been there?” Harold said.
“Not sure,” Archie said. “The cathedral is on one side of the square. The prison faces it. The mayor’s palace is in between.”
They entered the square. People crowded around a raised stage. On the stage, to the right, were two chairs, one raised higher than the other. Both were gilded, and the seats were covered in bright purple and yellow velvet. Two soldiers armed with swords stood bolt upright behind the chairs. A row of soldiers stood at the back of the stage as well. Pip looked around and saw that soldiers were, in fact, every-where, even on the roofs, bows in hand.
Pip looked toward the stage again and did a double take. “Lucy, is that Sir Lanford?” he said.
“Where?”
“On the stage, in the back row.”
“I think so.” She gasped in surprise.
Their conversation was interrupted by four men in brightly colored tunics marching to the front of the stage. They raised long, thin horns and blasted a series of notes, and then two other men carrying a large flag came on to the stage.
“That’s the sheriff’s banner,” Archie said.
Two more men followed with a smaller flag.
“That’s Baron Geoffrey’s banner,” Lucy said.
A short, bald man, his face beet red and his nose even redder, came onto the stage, and behind him walked another short man, very thick around the shoulders and midsection, with a brocade vest and a floppy green velvet hat.
“Presiding over this occasion is the honorable mayor of Bradford,” the red-faced man said, nodding to the man with the green hat.
“I’m getting closer,” Pip said.
“I can see fine from here,” Harold said.
Pip grinned and grabbed Harold’s arm. “Come on, my little mouse. I want to see the sheriff’s face.”
“Not sure I want that,” Harold said.
Pip led them around the side.
“Excuse me, my father is waiting for me,” Pip said to a group of men and women.
Pip flicked his eyebrows at Lucy and Harold, and before long they were dead center in front of the stage.
The trumpeters let loose another volley. The mayor stepped forward.
“Announcing, by the grace of God, the most venerable and noble Baron Geoffrey,” he cried.
The Baron Geoffrey mounted the stairs slowly. Sir Lanford came over and offered his arm and led the baron to the lower chair. The Baron’s expression was severe, eyes glaring and pinched. Pip felt scared for some reason, even though he was standing in a big crowd of people. Maybe it was the baron’s size. He was big all over, from his thick thighs and round stomach all the way up to his rough beard and round head. To Pip he looked like an enormous cannonball. The baron wore a thick dark blue cape that went down to the tops of his shining black leather boots, and the front of his tunic was embroidered with his coat of arms.
“And we are also honored, by the grace of God, by the most excellent lord, the victorious and peerless servant of our sovereign master King John, the tireless defender of the throne, the Sheriff of Nottingham,” the mayor cried even more loudly.
Pip’s heart felt as if it were going to explode. The sheriff mounted the stairs quickly. He wore a cylindrical silver helmet with ear coverings that went below his chin and a gold point that stood up at the top. He was much younger than Pip had imagined, younger looking than his father and Sir Duncan. He was also the baron’s opposite, slender and small, with smooth cheeks and a light brown beard, cropped short. His eyes were fierce and cold, and Pip felt a shiver run down his spine.
“Hurrah for the sheriff,” the mayor yelled.
“Hurrah for the sheriff,” the crowd chanted back a few times.
“I can’t believe he’s here,” Pip said in Lucy’s ear. “I could jump on stage and touch him — or maybe punch him.”
“Not a good idea, Pipper,” Lucy whispered back.
The sheriff sat in the raised chair.
“Bring out the first prisoner,” the red-faced man bellowed.
A man began drumming, and the door to the prison opened. A solitary man in a pair of ragged pants and a torn shirt stepped out. Two soldiers pushed him toward the stage.
“The honorable mayor shall read the charge,” the red-faced man said.
The mayor unrolled a long scroll and held it at eye level. “That this man did approach a vendor of apples and that when the vendor was distracted that he did steal an apple from the vendor and then attempt to escape on foot.” The mayor lowered the scroll. “What say you, scoundrel?”
“Maybe he was making an apple pie?” someone shouted.
The crowd erupted in laughter.
“Silence!” the red-faced man snarled. “Or you will be on this stage for breach of the peace.”
The crowd settled down.
Pip looked at the accused more closely. He was old, much older than his father, and his face was lined with wrinkles.
“My son is ill … and we have no food. There were so many apples. I did not think the vendor would miss one,” the miserable man said.
“Then you admit to stealing,” the mayor roared.
“I do,” the man said.
“What punishment do you recommend for this act of thievery, my lords?” the mayor said to the baron and the sheriff.
The baron sniffed the air and looked distractedly at his fingernails. “Put him in the stocks for a week,” he said. “And he can eat one apple a day.”
“Flog him first,” the sheriff added. “One hundred lashes should remind him that stealing is not permitted in King John’s kingdom.”
“Take him away,” the mayor ordered.
“But my son is very young, and he needs me,” the man stuttered.
“You can share your daily apple with him,” the red-faced man snarled.
The guards took him by the arms and led him off the stage and back toward the prison. They tied him to the stocks and handcuffed him. The crowd roared its approval.
“Here’s an apple for you to start,” a voice cried out. An apple hit the man on the shoulder. Those around Pip laughed.
“It was only one apple,” Pip muttered between clenched teeth.
“My father says the baron is a cruel man,” Archie whispered. “And the sheriff …”
“If only Robin Hood were here,” Pip said.
“Shush,” Lucy snapped.
Archie gave him a meaningful glance. Pip shrugged. They might be afraid to say his name, but he never would be.
“Bring out the next prisoners,” the red-faced man yelled.
Pip stood up on his toes. The crowd had shifted, and he couldn’t see them until they went up the stairs. Pip grasped Lucy’s arm.
“It’s Merec and his family,” Pip said. “Do you think …?”
Lucy’s face had lost its color.
“How did Sir Lanford find out?” Pip said.
This was impossible, unthinkable.
“The honorable mayor shall now read the charges,” the red-faced man said.
The mayor opened the scroll again. “That these people did willfully steal a pig, three bags of barley flour, two chickens, two bags of vegetables, and a bag of apples from the Baron Geoffrey and that they did hide them at their cottage for the purpose of eating them, and earlier the same night that they did steal three silver pounds and with that money they did purchase foodstuffs from the Baron Geoffrey and thereafter they did eat
said foodstuffs that very night.”
The crowd murmured.
“I believe there is evidence,” the mayor said. “Sir Lanford?”
Sir Lanford stepped forward.
“We received orders last night to transport supplies to Bradford, for the fair, and also to supply his lordship in Lon-don,” Sir Lanford began. “So very early this morning we did a quick inventory in the barns of the Baron Geoffrey’s estate not far from Hogg’s Pass. The thieves couldn’t have known that. Only I and my assistant, Master Johnson, knew. Once we discovered the missing flour and vegetables and apples, we did a full check and saw that the thieves had also taken two chickens and a pig. The thieves found out that we were searching for the stolen food and animals and tried to return them, but we caught them red-handed sneaking the flour, the vegetables, and the apples back into the barn. We arrested them in the baron’s name and brought them here by horseback. We arrived only a short time ago.”
“What about the chickens and the pig?” the mayor said.
“They left the chickens and the pig at their cottage,” Sir Lanford said.
“Why did they not attempt to return them as well?” the mayor said.
“I do not know,” Sir Lanford said. “You will need to ask them.”
“Do you admit to the charge of theft?” the mayor said to Merec.
“We did not steal anything, my lord,” Merec said. “Some-one else put the food and animals in our shed.”
“A likely story,” the mayor snorted.
“It is true, my lord,” Merec said.
Merec put his arm across Barda’s chest and pulled him closer. Barda wrapped his arms around Felix.
“Why did you leave the chickens and the pig behind?” the mayor said.
“We planned to return them tonight. They are too loud and restless in the morning,” Merec said.
“So you were afraid of being caught,” the mayor said.
Anne clasped her hands together and held them under her chin. “My lords, my husband is an honorable man. He has never stolen anything in his life.”
“What say you, dear baron?” the sheriff said. “They are your peasants, after all.”
The baron leaned to one side and raised his chin. He sniffed the air and turned his head to the sheriff. “I have no need for peasants who steal from me.”
“If you will, my lord,” Merec began.
“Silence, worthless dog,” the red-faced man barked.
“This man does not appear to respect your authority, my dear Baron.” The sheriff chuckled. “Perhaps some time in the stocks and some lashes will teach him obedience.”
The sheriff’s laugh sent another chill down Pip’s spine. It was so cold.
The baron shrugged. “I shall teach him obedience,” he said. “Do you have any objection to an execution tomorrow?”
The sheriff’s eyes grew brighter. “I certainly do not. But they are your peasants. The case is rightly decided by you.”
The baron waved his hand. “They hang tomorrow. Take them out of my sight. They disgust me.”
The soldiers took Merec and Anne by the arms.
“Spare my family,” Merec begged. “Please, my lord. We have served you faithfully. We have worked in your fields every day and —”
“Not the children,” Anne implored. “Punish me. It was my doing, and I should suffer the punishment.”
“Anne, no,” Merec cried. “I did it. Punish me. I am the thief. I deserve whatever happens to me. My children and wife are blameless.”
“My lords, what is your final decision?” the mayor said.
The crowd was hushed. The baron looked at his finger-nails and then whispered in the sheriff’s ear.
The sheriff stood up to face the crowd and held his arms out. “Tomorrow morning, at ten bells, these four thieves shall be hanged from the neck until dead.”
Anne staggered, and Merec reached out to hold her up. Fendral stood perfectly still, his head hung low. Barda alone seemed unaffected. He looked about, a sweet smile on his face, and then shook Felix’s hand at the crowd.
Merec put one arm around Anne and another around Barda. Anne reached out for Fendral. A soldier pushed them roughly off the stage. Pip thought he might collapse. He couldn’t feel his body. It had gone completely numb.
“Pip? We have to do something,” Lucy said.
“I will talk to the sheriff,” Pip said. “This is my fault.”
“But … will they punish you …?” Harold said.
Pip felt dizzy. He had to hold on to Lucy. He might very well have to take their place.
What should he do?
What would Robin Hood do?
Pip needed to come up with a plan — and quickly.
loud roar was followed by tremendous laughter and then another roar, as if a chorus of minstrels had decided to scream all together. Pip raised himself on his toes to look through the window into the mayor’s palace. All he saw were the tops of heads of maybe a dozen people inside.
The guard stationed outside knocked on the door. It swung open, and the red-faced man from the stage staggered out. He held a tankard in one hand.
“These children want to see the sheriff,” the guard said to the red-faced man. “They say it has to do with the family that was sentenced to death tomorrow.”
“Children?” the red-faced man barked. “Tell them to go away.”
“I must speak to the sheriff and the baron,” Pip said. “You sentenced a family today — to be executed — and they are innocent.”
The red-faced man swayed from side to side. He took a drink from his glass. “How do you know that?” he said finally.
“Because …” Pip’s heart pounded. “I was the one who found the pig and the bags of flour … and the chickens and vegetables … and apples. I didn’t know it all belonged to the baron. I just found the bags of flour, the vegetables, and the apples … by the side of the road. They must’ve fallen off a wagon or something … and the pig and chickens got free somehow.”
“We found the chickens and the pig in the forest,” Lucy said.
Pip nodded at her ever so slightly. She’d said it exactly the way they’d practiced.
“So how did it end up in their cottage?” the red-faced man asked.
“We put it there,” Pip said. “Like I said, we didn’t know who it belonged to … so … we decided to give it to Merec and his family.”
The red-faced man squinted at them for a few moments, swaying slightly. “Wait here. I will get the mayor.”
The guard closed the door. Soon after it burst open and the mayor staggered out. A yellowish liquid splashed from his tankard.
“You’ve made me spill my beer,” the mayor yelled at the guard. He took a long sip. “Where are the children?”
“Here, my lord mayor. My name is Pip.”
The mayor looked down. “Who is this imp?” he roared.
Pip shrank back a step. He looked over at the prison and gathered his courage. “I am the son of Aldwin Draper of Nottinghamshire, and … we were the ones who found the flour and the animals … the food. We put it in Merec’s cottage.”
The mayor drained his tankard. “I need more drink.” He shook his head. “Um … where did you find the flour … and animals?” He hiccupped.
“They were on the side of the road, your honor,” the red-faced man said. “Fell off a wagon.”
“The pig fell off a wagon?” the mayor said.
“No, your honor,” Lucy said. “The pig must have broken free from its pen, and we found her in the forest with the chickens.”
“We found the flour and vegetables and apples by the side of the road,” Harold said.
“And this boy, also?” the red-faced man said.
“No, sir, I was not with them,” Archie said.
“What is your name?” th
e red-faced man said.
“I am Archibald, son of Sir Duncan of Raventhorpe.”
The mayor seemed stunned. “You are the son of a noble-man. Why are you with these … children?”
“They are my friends,” Archie said.
The mayor gave his head a shake. “What did you do with the flour … and the pig … and … the other things?”
“We saw the food by the side of the road, and the pig and chickens in the forest,” Pip said. “We didn’t know what to do or who they belonged to, so we got a small wagon and carried it to Merec’s. The family was kind enough to give us shelter last night when we could not stay at Ackerley’s Inn.”
“Who is this Merec?” the mayor said.
“He is the father of the family who will be executed tomorrow, my lord,” the red-faced man said.
Everyone was doing their part perfectly. It was time for him to offer the apology. He blinked rapidly a few times until he felt his eyes become wet.
“We were just trying to help,” Pip said pitifully. He looked up with tears in his eyes. “We are very sorry. We didn’t know it belonged to the great Baron Geoffrey.”
“Should we talk to the sheriff … or the baron?” the red-faced man said.
The mayor made a sour face. “I would prefer not to. All the baron and sheriff do is yell at me and order me about.”
The red-faced man screwed his face tightly together and looked up at the mayor. “This Merec has a wife and two children, if you recall. Should we just let them go?”
The mayor looked into his tankard again. “I should be attending to my guests, to the baron and the sheriff, not dealing with these … children. If the family did not steal from the baron …” He looked into his tankard.
“Shall I give the order?” the red-faced man said.
Pip’s heart was beating like mad.
The mayor made a sour face. “I should speak quickly with the baron. They are his peasants, after all. Wait here.”
The door closed. Pip moved a few paces away and then motioned Lucy, Harold, and Archie over.
“I think they’ll change their minds,” Pip said.
He wasn’t sure why — they just had to.
“I think the mayor believes us — and he wants to keep on drinking,” Lucy said.
