“What does the Timekeepers’ log say again?” Drake asked. “Maybe it will give us a clue.”
Amanda sighed as she pulled out the log. She unlocked the clasp, flipped to where she had last written, and whispered, “Games and songs and revelry, act as the cloak of devilry. So that an English legend may give to the poor, we must travel to Nottingham to even the score.”
Jordan rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “Okay, guys, time for a huddle. Let’s do the five Ws. We’ve already figured out who we’re supposed help—the legendary Robin Hood. Where we are—Nottingham, and when our mission is supposed to happen—May first, 1214. So now we gotta figure out why we’re here, and what we need to do to get back home.”
“You forgot the big H, Jordan,” Treena said. “How do we stop time from changing?”
“The cloak of devilry,” Ravi muttered. “Sounds like something evil or diabolic.”
“Whoa, wait, I think I’ve got a dictionary stashed at the bottom of my backpack,” Treena said, rummaging through it. A small tube fell out as she pulled out a ratty old paperback.
“What’s this?” Ravi asked, picking up the tube and examining it.
Treena snatched it back. “Er, a tube of hair tint.”
Jordan looked at her sideways. “Hair tint?”
She shrugged. “In case I need to do a touch up for an audition, silly.”
“Here, gimme the dictionary, Mui,” Drake said. He flipped through it quickly. “Hmm, devilry can also mean malicious fun or mischief.”
“It’s like putting a jig-saw puzzle together with words,” Treena said, puffing her cheeks.
Amanda’s eyes widened. “Wait—merriment and mischief—that’s it!” She whirled around. “Alan?”
Startled, Alan a’Dale plinked on his lute when he should have plunked. He sighed and looked up at Amanda. “What now, muse?”
Amanda batted her eyelashes and plastered on the best Cheshire cat smile she could muster. “Your muse needs you.”
14. The Bow of a Legend
It was by far the worst night of Amanda Sault’s life. Between Jensen’s snores, Ravi’s nightmares, Treena’s grumbling stomach, Drake talking in his sleep, and Tuck’s frequent farts, Amanda was lucky to get an hour’s sleep. She shivered as she pushed herself off the straw bed Much had made for them. The fire had burned down into embers and a small pot of what looked like oatmeal hung over it.
She glanced around. Robyn, Much, and Jean were nowhere to be seen, and Alan a’Dale had not returned since Amanda had sent him on her own personal mission. If the Timekeepers were going to be “the cloak of devilry” then they’d best act and dress the part. And how better to do that than to blend in with a crowd of mischief-making medieval entertainers? Since Alan knew many of the minstrels and performers, he’d been appointed to scrounge up some instruments and clothes that would conceal their twenty-first century identities from Crowley and his cronies. Of course their mission had deviated when Professor Lucas was taken hostage, making him the number one priority.
Amanda yawned, scooped a finger’s portion of oatmeal, and walked out of the cave. She popped the ball of oatmeal into her mouth while scanning the forest. Through the leaves, the rising sun sparkled its greeting. The air was still heavy with moisture, and everything about the forest seemed fresh to her. Fresh and pure and vibrant. She inhaled deeply, grateful her allergies hadn’t hung around to haunt her.
A cracking noise startled her. Now on alert, she scanned the area and found Melody Spencer sitting on a rock. Apparently oblivious to everything around her, Melody leaned against a long, thin branch, her expression as stoic as ever. Jean le Nailor’s cape was draped over her shoulders.
Amanda stood in silence and observed her. Why hadn’t Melody come back to the cave last night? Was she mad at them? Or was Melody ashamed of her past? Amanda sighed, gathering the nerve to go talk to her. As she quietly padded through the forest path, the branch in Melody’s hands suddenly bent. In that moment, a ray of light landed on the branch and illuminated it, making it look like a sideways rainbow. Amanda froze. Her heart began to pulsate in fast, direct beats. She knew. Amanda smiled. She now knew why they were here and what they had to do.
“That’s it!” she yelled triumphantly.
Startled, Melody let go of the branch, lost her balance, and fell from her perch. Jean’s cape tumbled from her shoulders.
Amanda raced toward her. “Melody! Are you okay?”
Stunned, Melody gave her head a shake. “I…I think so, Amanda. What’s all the shouting about?”
Amanda helped Melody to her feet, then picked up the branch and shook it. “This is it! The answer to why we’re here and what we have to do!”
“A yew branch is the answer?” Melody asked, while retrieving Jean’s sloughed-off cape. She shook it out, folded it, and laid it across the rock.
Amanda nodded.
Melody stared at her blankly, like she didn’t get it. Maybe she didn’t. Amanda laughed, threw her arms around Melody, and looked her in the eyes. “Doncha see, Melody? When I watched you leaning against this branch, it resembled a longbow to me, and that’s when I got the connection. In our time, Robin Hood is known for using a longbow, not the crossbow.”
Melody’s lips curled. Amanda grinned. It was nice to see her smile again.
“By George, I think you’ve got it, Amanda,” Melody said, hugging her tightly.
Never mind George. It was enough to get Melody back on track. Amanda returned the hug and said, “Sorry ’bout last night, Melody. You know, what happened and stuff.”
At first, Melody stiffened, and then she relaxed as if letting something heavy inside fall away. She inhaled deeply. “You don’t have to apologize to me, Amanda. It’s nothing you or Jordan or Ravi said, it’s just that…that I feel so empty at times. In truth, I guess I keep trying to fill an endless void in my life.”
“Whatcha mean, Melody?”
Melody sighed. “Since my family disappeared, I’ve thrown myself into my father’s work, as if living for him, trying to keep part of him alive. Papa was a gifted doctor, a pioneer in the way he treated his patients. He believed in treating a person as a whole entity, not just the body, and realized the energy that surrounds us, that makes us up, is dependent upon our very thoughts, attitudes, beliefs, and even our environment. Most called him a fool, but some thought him a genius. With support from a handful of influential friends, Spencer Wellness Clinics began to thrive in certain areas of England and Europe. He gave many people a reason to live again. I am very proud to be a part of my father’s dream.”
“What about your dreams, Melody? Don’t you have any?”
Melody gazed out into the forest. “I wanted to be a ballet dancer, but Papa thought it best I should learn to fence instead. That’s how I met Bernard Hamilton. At first he was my teacher, and then as time went on, I fell in love with him.” Melody paused, dropped her chin to her chest. “We parted ways the day our daughter was born. Bernard decided to choose fencing over family.”
Melody snorted then. Something she rarely did.
Intrigued, Amanda sat on the rock, and leaned against the branch. “What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Brenna. Brenna Kathleen Spencer,” Melody whispered.
“That’s a pretty name. Did Brenna like to dance too?”
Melody stared out into the forest again, as if it was magically pulling her into the past. She grazed her bottom lip with her teeth. “Yes. Brenna had quite the imagination when it came to dancing. It didn’t matter where we were or who was there, Brenna just let loose and danced up a storm. She never stuffed her feelings.”
Stuffed feelings? Amanda could relate to that. She had a folder full of feelings on what she wanted to say to her mother. But she never found the guts to open her mouth. Instead, Amanda used her poetry to help get the gunk out. Then, it dawned on her that she and Melody weren’t so different after all, and she had something to say that might help “fill up” Melody.
“I bet you were a great mom, Melo
dy.”
“Thank you, Amanda,” Melody replied in a broken voice. She kissed Amanda’s cheek.
An intense sensation of warmth raced through Amanda’s whole body. She embraced this feeling, not wanting it to pass, but knowing she couldn’t hold onto it either. Amanda gripped the yew branch as if it were a staff in order to ground her, steady her. It felt strong in her hands—perfect for the bow of a legend.
Smiling, Amanda jumped off the rock. “Last night, Much mentioned something about an archery tournament being held on May Day. If we can get Robyn to change and use a longbow, maybe he could win. That way everything ever written about Robin Hood wouldn’t be erased.”
Melody thumbed her chin. “Yes, that makes sense, Amanda. Even if some of the historical texts aren’t factual, the truth behind the legend would continue to survive.”
“Good. So how do we go about making a bow?”
Melody smiled. She dipped into a deep skirt pocket and pulled out a small roll of gardening twine and a Swiss Army knife. She motioned Amanda to hand over the branch and together they bent it so that it formed a perfect bow. Melody quickly tied the twine to both ends and then flipped the knife open to cut away the excess twine. With an eye for precision, Melody started to carve out the bow’s handle where an arrow would rest. She followed the grain of the wood like a river furrowing into the earth. It wouldn’t be a fancy-looking bow, but it would definitely do the trick. Melody held up the bow, checking it once, twice, three times over before giving it her nod of approval.
“Mmm. We’ll have to make some arrows as well, Amanda. The crossbow bolts are too short for a longbow.”
“Sure, but how do we go about converting Robyn from the crossbow to the longbow?”
Melody never got a chance to answer. An arrow whistled through the bushes, buzzed directly between them, and struck the boulder they had sat on. It splintered upon impact. Amanda held her breath. That was close. Two people emerged from the thicket—Robyn and Much, who was breathing heavily. Amanda exhaled, releasing a sloppy fizzle sound. Robyn’s eyes darted over them as if he were at a tennis match, then turned to Much, took away his crossbow, and slapped him across the back of the head.
“Stupid simpkin! How many times hath I told thee that anyone can shoot a crossbow? ’Tis so simple, even a child can use one!”
Much hung his head. “Sorry, Robyn,” he mumbled.
“I beg thy pardon, milady Melody, milady Amanda,” Robyn said. “Art thou hurt?”
“No. I’m good,” Amanda said, wiping spittle from the side of her mouth.
“Yes, we’re quite fine, Robyn,” Melody said. “No harm done. Has your cousin Wil brought you any news of Miriam?”
Robyn’s shoulders slumped. “Nay, milady, Wil hath brought no word.”
“Don’t worry, Robyn, no news is good news,” Melody said reassuringly.
Amanda decided it was show time. “Ever thought about using a longbow, Robyn? After all, Miriam uses one, so how hard can it be?”
“I’ve been told that a longbow is more accurate for hunting,” Melody added.
Robyn screwed up his face as if he had just been asked to eat raw liver.
Much chuckled. “Robyn use a longbow? ’Tis silly to think such things.”
Robyn elbowed Much in the gut. “Something amuses thee, simpkin?”
Much rubbed his ample belly and shook his head. “Nay, Robyn, nay, ’tis that thou hast never used a longbow.”
“I can think of a couple of good reasons why he should start now,” Amanda said.
“Such as?” Robyn asked.
“Well, like you said to Much, anyone can shoot a crossbow, but it takes great skill to master the longbow. And the greater the skill, the higher chance you have to score big with the chicks around Nottingham.”
Much puckered his lips. “Why dost thou want Robyn to play with chickens?”
Amanda rolled her eyes. She ignored Much and looked at Robyn. “You know, all the girls in Nottingham won’t be able to keep their hot little hands off you, once they see you shooting the longbow. Do the math, Robyn—that includes Miriam.”
Melody coughed.
Much belched.
Robyn’s eyes bugged.
Amanda couldn’t believe she had said that. The words just tumbled out of her mouth. It sounded like something Jensen would say. Her cheeks burned. “Uh, wait, what I meant to say was—”
“Teach me!” Robyn blurted, tossing the crossbow aside.
“Huh? What?”
“He wants you and your hot little hands to teach him, Amanda,” Melody said, grinning as she passed off the longbow to her.
Amanda gulped. She knew nothing about archery. Great. Now what? Amanda looked at the longbow, then glanced at Melody. Melody’s grin had turned into a blatant smirk. What was up with that?
Before Amanda had time to ask her, Melody turned to Robyn and started counting on her fingers. “We’ll need some ash branches, as many goose feathers as you can find, some sinew and flint to make arrows, as well as a couple of bales of hay for targets. Wake the others if you need their help. How fast can you get us these things, Robyn?”
Robyn stumbled, bowed before Melody, then grabbed Much by the arm and spun him around like a top. “Thou heardest milady Melody! Get on with thee, Much!”
Amanda watched with her mouth agape as the boys ripped through the forest like a pair of flying arrows. Melody poked her from behind. She turned; Melody was still grinning.
Amanda furrowed her brow. “Don’t tell me you know something about archery.”
“All right, I won’t.”
“How come you never said anything when Treena brought it up yesterday?”
“Have you forgotten, Amanda? Lilith told us to pay attention first, and then act. Well, before I took up fencing, I dabbled a bit in archery.”
Amanda giggled. “The way I see it, you would have made a better actor than a dancer!”
Three hours later, Amanda figured that “dabbled” was an understatement. In the short time she had known her, Amanda had learned that Melody usually immersed herself into everything that interested her. Whether it was gardening, landscaping, cooking, volunteering, or nursing cuts and bruises, Melody took it to heart. Archery was no exception. Even Robyn seemed impressed.
Two bales of hay were set up in the meadow by Much, each strategically positioned by counting off a number of strides. Jordan and Drake were back at the cave, helping Much and Jean make arrows, while Treena and Ravi had decided to put their theatrical creativity to good use by volunteering to help Alan a’Dale prepare what was needed to pass as medieval performers.
Amanda watched Robyn shoot his arrow. She smiled. Yup, he was getting the hang of it.
“How is that shot, milady Melody?” Robyn shouted.
Melody sprinted toward the first round hay bale. She skidded to a stop and checked the position of the arrow. She gave him the thumbs up sign.
Robyn looked at Amanda oddly. She laughed. “Melody says you’re doing better.”
Robyn sighed. “Truth be told, ’tis hard to adjust to the longbow.”
“You’ll get used to it, Robyn. It just takes practice,” Amanda said encouragingly.
Robyn’s eyes lit up. “Dost thou think so, milady Amanda?”
Amanda nodded. “Face it, Robyn, you’re a natural. Melody only gave you the basics on how to hold the bow and where to plant your feet. The rest of what you already knew just fell into place.”
Robyn blushed. In fact, he almost turned the same color as his hair.
“So…do you think you’ll be ready for the archery tournament this afternoon?” Amanda asked.
Robyn dropped his bow. “Archery tournament? Dost thou jest, milady Amanda?”
Jest? No, she wasn’t joking. Was Robyn? Surely not. Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. “The whole point of changing you over to the longbow was so that you could enter the archery contest in Nottingham today and win. No problemo.”
“Yea, problemo! Sir Guy of Gisbo
rne will be there. He is older and an expert archer. He always wins. I have no chance against him! If that is thy plan for me, this ends now!”
Robyn kicked his bow aside and stomped off.
“Anything wrong, Amanda?” Melody shouted across the meadow.
Nope. Nothing I can’t handle. Amanda waved, grinned, and nodded. “Fine. Everything’s fine!” she shouted back.
She took a deep breath. It was time to channel her inner warrior. Amanda wasn’t going to let this medieval douche’s low self-esteem get to her. Robyn was going to be in that contest whether he liked it or not. Time—his time—depended on it. She bolted after him with a force she’d never experienced before and hit her target harder than an arrow. Amanda and Robyn tumbled over each other and landed short of a babbling brook. Her braid came loose, making Amanda’s dark brown hair cling to the sides of her face like the bearded lady in a freak show. She grabbed Robyn’s green hood, inched his face closer to hers and glared.
Robyn howled with laughter.
“What’s so funny, Hodekin?”
“Thou racest like a man, thou hittest hard like a man, and now thou lookest like a man.”
Amanda grunted. She released Robyn and rolled off of him. “Sorry, Robyn,” she muttered. “I guess I lost it.”
Robyn stopped laughing. “Lost what, milady?” He looked around the grass.
She wanted to say dignity, but didn’t. “Never mind.”
“I promise, ’twas not to insult thee, milady. Thou remindest me of Miriam, ’tis all.”
Amanda brushed the hair out of her face. “You really like Miriam, don’t you?”
Robyn’s face shined. “Aye. It frets me so to wonder why Miriam hath not been acting herself lately.” Robyn’s chin hit his chest. “I suppose Miriam Fitzooth deserves better. I have no title to my name or money in my purse.”
“You would if you won the archery contest, Robyn. Think about it. You win the title of best archer, you’re awarded money, and you go buy a big estate somewhere in the country. Tell me what girl wouldn’t want that?”
Robyn chuckled. “Such strange talk. But thou hast given me much to think about, milady. I thank thee.”
The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis Page 13
