Ivanhoe Gambit

7

The miserable Will Scarlet arrived back at camp hung from a pole as though the victim of a hunt. Finn ordered his two companions, Oswald and Ian, to carry him around the camp three times, which they did to the delight of the other merry men, who greeted Scarlet with hoots of derision and pelted him with sticks.

The camp itself was primitive in the extreme. Built around an ancient oak, in which was built a tiny wooden platform for one man to keep watch, the camp was situated in a grassy clearing and surrounded on all sides by thick undergrowth. The merry men lived a carefree and slovenly existence in small, poorly constructed wooden huts covered with thatch. There was one large pit dug for a cooking fire and several smaller ones, these being uncomfortably close to the highly combustible dwellings. From one of these haphazardly built shelters came a short and heavy curtal friar, a man almost as wide as he was tall. His cassock was coarse and filthy and what little hair he had was matted to his head as though plastered down by water. The friar waddled up to them and both Finn and Bobby became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was sweating profusely. His perspiration had an overpowering smell of garlic to it.

"John! Robin! What were you thinking of? Disappearing like that for days on end and then entering a Norman tournament! Marion was furious when she found out!"

"So?" said Finn.

"So? So she'll flay you two alive, that's what's so!" said Tuck. "You had best hope her hunt's successful. If she comes home without her meat, she'll be in an evil humor."

"Whether she comes home with venison or not," said Finn, "Marion will find that there have been some changes made."

"Changes? What changes?"

Bobby put his arm around Friar Tuck's shoulders, doing his best to ignore the odor. "The time has come for us to change, Tuck," he said. "I have given it much thought. This going off on drunken binges and stumbling through the forest and falling in the brambles ill serves our cause. We saw the exercises put on by the Normans and from my days at Locksley Hall, I still recall some of the teachings of the drillmaster to our men at arms. John and I have devised some methods whereby we might all become the more efficient at the plying of our trade. We must begin to work immediately."

"Work?" said the friar. "Did he say work? Have you gone mad?" He turned from one to the other. "Has he gone mad?"

"More to the point, good friar, we have both gone sane," said Bobby.

"And what of Marion?"

"Yes, and what of Marion?" said a new voice and Finn and Bobby turned to see a small party entering the camp, two of them carrying an eight-pointer on a pole. In the vanguard of this group was a young woman dressed in lincoln green. She was perhaps nineteen or twenty years old with her dark blonde hair worn uncharacteristically short for a woman of the time. She looked like a Saxon peasant youth and only her distinctly feminine figure gave the lie to that impression. She wore two long daggers at her waist and carried a longbow in her hand, even though she looked hardly strong enough to string it.

"Godfrey, Neville, see to that stag," she said. "And as for you two springals, where the devil have you been?"

"John and I had thought to go to Ashby to watch the Normans flail at each other," Bobby said. "It seemed good for some amusement. On our way, we both became quite paralyzed with drink and, to our misfortune, we ran across some of the sheriff's men. We both barely escaped with our lives. It was a sobering experience. So sobering, in fact, that we came to the conclusion that we must bring to an end our dissolute existence. We both lay in the forest, shaking and sweating as we struggled with our demons and, at long last, the crystal clarity of true sobriety returned to us. And, with my sobriety returned, so were my long lost skills at archery, as you have doubtless heard by now."

"Do you mean to tell me that it's true that you split Hubert's shaft and won the tournament?" said Marion.

"It is the very truth," said Bobby. "And if I, who have always been the most dissolute amongst us, have so benefitted by my new abstemiousness, think what the rest of the merry men could do if kept from drink and given some direction. Why, we would be the very terror of the forests!"

"We are the terror of the forests!" protested Tuck.

"The only terror that we cause, good Tuck," said Bobby, "is in the rabbits and the woodcocks whose poor ears are assailed by our noise of drunken revelry. As for the gentry hereabouts, the only terror which we cause them results from fear that they might die of laughing at our bumbling prowess."

"If you were as abstemious of words as you claim to have become of drink, then I would be impressed, indeed," said Marion. "But that would be asking for the moon, no doubt. Hold out your hands."

Bobby held his hands out before him.

"They appear steady enough," said Marion, dubiously. "But I have heard this claim of temperance many times before. How long will it last this time? One day? One hour?"

"Well, wait and see," said Bobby.

Marion made a wry face. "You'll never change. You'll ever work your mouth far better than you shoot a bow. You, John, and that other wastrel, Alan-a-dale. Forever drinking yourselves blind and making up those absurd songs about yourselves. 'Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen,' my buttocks! You've got half the shire singing that drivel and believing it, as well. You forget that I know better. Singing and carousing were all you were ever good at." She chuckled. "That, and perhaps another thing or two, besides."

"Marion!" said Bobby, with a great show of indignation. "I have had a most profound experience! How can you doubt me?"

"I am to believe you split a shaft of Hubert's? Prince John's finest archer?"

"But some of the men saw it! Did they not tell you?"

"Oh, they'll say anything to please you and you know it. Am I also to believe that you had a confrontation with my husband's men and came away to speak of it?"

Bobby glanced at Finn. "Your husband?"

"Are you now forgetting the very lies that crossed your lips mere moments ago?" she said. "Did you or did you not claim to have met the sheriff's men and lived to tell the tale?"

"Oh, well, yes, of course…" said Bobby, trying desperately to recover. Marion was married to the Sheriff of Nottingham?

"Oh, you're contemptible!" she said. "I ought to thrash you!" Then she smiled. "But just the same, I'm glad to have you back. I will forgive you if you come give me a kiss."

Bobby smiled as she held her arms out to him and he approached her, pleased to note as he did so that she took at least some pains to keep herself clean, for while there was a slight musky smell about her, she did not stink anywhere near so badly as did Tuck. She put her arms around him and kissed him energetically, but the moment they broke the kiss, she hauled off and smashed a right into his jaw.

Bobby staggered and almost fell.

"What was that for?"

"You never kissed that well before! Where have you been taking lessons?"

Finn burst out laughing.

"You find it funny, do you, John?" she said, advancing toward him, her right hand going to the hilt of one of her long daggers. When he wouldn't stop laughing, she drew the dagger and waved it at him threateningly. "Stop your laughing, or so help me, I'll-"

Finn quickly pivoted on the ball of his left foot, bringing his right foot around in a lightning fast spinning wheel kick. He caught her knife hand just at the wrist and the dagger went flying out of her grasp. For a moment, she stared at him, stunned, then she furiously drew the other dagger and lunged at him. Finn trapped her wrist, then using her arm as a lever against her, he casually flipped her. She fell flat on her back. The other merry men stared at him with their jaws hanging open. It was the first time in their lives they had ever seen a demonstration of the Oriental martial arts.

Marion got up slowly, rubbing her hip. "Where did you learn that trick?" she said, no longer angry.

Finn shrugged. "It's no great feat," he said. "It is a way of fighting they have in the East. It was taught to me and Robin by a knight returned from the Crusades."

"A knight! Why would a knight bother with a Saxon outlaw?"

"This was a Saxon knight," said Bobby. "We met him at the tournament. He was much impressed with the way I handle a longbow and offered to teach me and John some of the art of this foreign way of fighting in return for instructing him in archery."

" You taught a knight the longbow?" she said, astonished.

"Well, it was not completely foreign to him, being a Saxon," Bobby said. "And he already had some skill with a crossbow."

" You taught him? You?"

"John, I don't think she believes me," Bobby said.

Finn shrugged. "Show her."

Bobby strung his bow. He looked at Marion and grinned. "What shall we shoot at?"

"I think you're starting to believe your own fantastic boasts," she said. "You could never beat me."

"Ah, but that was before I gave up drinking," Bobby said.

Marion strung her own bow. "I see it's time to put you in your place again," she said. "Very well." She nocked an arrow and, choosing a stout oak tree on the far side of the camp, she drew her bow back and let fly. The arrow sailed across the camp, narrowly missing one of the men who had just exited his hut. He yelped and dove back inside. The arrow struck the tree trunk and stuck there.

"Right," said Marion. "Let's see how close you can place your shaft to mine. Perhaps you'll even split it as you did Hubert's." She laughed, mockingly.

Bobby removed his quiver from his shoulder, handing it to John.

"Hold that for me, will you, Little John?"

Finn winked at Bobby as Bobby drew out a black arrow. With Bobby standing between him and Marion, Finn reached into the quiver and drew out the little black box.

"A black arrow?" Marion said.

"A new idea of mine," said Bobby. "I thought to have all the merry men use black arrows."

"Why?"

"To strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, to mark that the arrow comes from one of Robin Hood's merry men."

"Ah, I see," said Marion, with mock gravity. "Perhaps we should all wear some sort of crest upon our chests, as well? Crossed black arrows upon a cask of ale?"

By way of an answer, Bobby nocked the arrow, first taking care to quickly disarm it, drew the bow back to his ear, and let it fly. The black box did the rest. Marion's arrow was neatly split.

The merry men cheered, throwing their caps into the air and pounding one another on the back. Marion stared at him with total disbelief.

"I could not believe that story about your winning the tournament," she said, "yet now I see it with my own two eyes! You really can shoot!"

"And you doubted me," said Bobby.

Marion unstrung her bow, then swung it with both hands. It whistled through the air and struck Bobby on the side of his head.

"Jesus!" He clapped his hand to his left ear, wincing with pain. "Are you crazy?"

"All this time, you could shoot so well, and yet you deprived me of such marksmanship by being a drunkard!" She grabbed him by the hair and shook his head furiously. " If I ever see you touch a drop of drink again, God be my judge, you 'II live out the remainder of your life a gelding!"

She shoved him away from her, then turned to face the merry men, who all instantly grew silent.

"Tomorrow, we start to learn these new tricks of fighting," she said. "And from this moment on, any man who cannot hold his drink will be hung up by his thumbs! Neither are you excluded, Tuck, holy friar or not." She stalked off to her lean-to, but paused and turned around before entering. "One more thing," she said. "From now on, we use black arrows."

The merry men glared balefully at Finn and Bobby.

"Well, how about that?" said Bobby.

"She sure is some kind of lady," Finn said.

"What kind is that?"

Finn grinned. "I guess you'll find out tonight."

"I have a feeling we're not very popular around here right this minute," Bobby said.

Finn nodded. "We'll be even less popular tomorrow morning, when I start in on these rampant specimens of manhood."

"We may have some desertions," Bobby said.

Finn shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Because the only alternative to us is honest work."

"Good point."

"Robin!"

"I think the lady's calling you."

"Robin!"

Bobby sighed. "Lousy army."

Finn chuckled. "It's a living."

Cedric didn't make it easy.

Lucas was waiting for the right moment to confront him, but the old man began ranting about the "Norman dogs" the moment they left the castle. There wasn't a pause in his tirade until they had reached the edge of the forest. By that time, he had commented extensively upon the ancestries of all the Normans present at the banquet, excluding Andre de la Croix, who, conceded Cedric, was at the very least a better mannered knight than the rest of "those swine from Normandy."

"That despicable Templar is the worst of their lot!" said Cedric, showing not the slightest sign of winding down. "If I were a younger man, I would have it out with him upon the field of battle! Athelstane, you should have split his skull! No, no, it was well that you didn't. Never let it be said that a Saxon drew sword upon his host, no matter what the provocation! We must see to it that his skull is split at the very next opportunity, however. Would that the white knight had split it for him! Oh, how my heart sang when I saw how well he humbled them! Would that I knew who he was so I could hold a great feast in his honor!"

Seeing his chance, Lucas quickly said, "I can tell you who this white knight is, my lord."

"What, you know him?" Cedric reined in his horse and slipped a small golden bracelet off his wrist. "Good palmer, I will give you this bracelet if you name him to me!"

"Keep your bracelet, my lord. I will proudly do you this service without payment. This white knight was a Saxon who had gone off to fight for the Holy Land with Coeur-de-Lion."

"Ha! I knew he was a Saxon! I cannot say that I hold with any true Saxon going off to fight in foreign lands while his own nation is held hostage, but for the way he unhorsed those Norman bastards, I forgive him!"

"Then forgive your son, my lord," said Lucas, "for his nameis Ivanhoe."

"No! It cannot be! I have no son!"

Lucas pulled back his cowl. "I plead your forgiveness, Father. Can you find it in your heart to take your son back?"

"You!"

Rowena gave a small shriek and almost fell from her saddle. At that moment de la Croix attacked.

The first thing Lucas became aware of when he came to was that his head was throbbing. He put his hand to his forehead and was surprised to encounter a bandage. He was also surprised to find himself lying in a bed. He gradually became aware of his surroundings. He was in a small wooden cabin with a planked floor. There were shutters on the windows and these shutters were closed, but there was light inside the cabin. He moved his head slightly and saw a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. There was music in the cabin. A Bartok concerto for the recorder. He sat up quickly and immediately collapsed back on the bed with a groan.

"Take it easy there, pilgrim," said a man's voice. "You've had a nasty crack on the head and you've got a concussion."

Lucas looked up and saw the man bending over him. He looked like an old man at first, but then Lucas realized that what gave that impression was his extremely long hair, which was streaked with gray, and his long, full beard. The face behind the foliage was youthful and the blue eyes were clear and bright. The man wore a long, clean, beautifully embroidered velvet caftan. There were dragons on both sides of his chest, their tails curling down to his knees. When the man turned around to pick up something from the table, Lucas saw that the back of the caftan was embroidered with the words "Hong Kong."

"Here you go, pilgrim. Have some chicken soup. It's good for what ails you."

"Jesus, I'm hallucinating," Lucas said.

The man in the caftan pursed his lips. "Don't think so. I can fix that, though. I've got some dynamite acid here from 1969, that oughtta do the trick. But with you being in the shape you're in, I don't think a trip would be such a good idea."

Lucas sat up, much more slowly this time. The man sat down on the bed with the bowl of soup in his hand. He spooned out some of it and fed it to Lucas.

Lucas swallowed the hot broth. "Who the hell are you?"

"Name's Hunter," said the man. "Lieutenant Reese Hunter, late of the U.S.T.C. Here, have some more soup."

"Where am I? What am I doing here? What happened?"

"Just relax and eat your soup, son. We'll take things one at a time, okay?"

Lucas nodded and opened his mouth as another spoonful approached.

"Answer to number one: You're in my cabin. We're smack dab in the middle of the woods here, you can barely get around without a machete. It's not that bad, actually, but we're off the beaten track and no one's likely to bother us. As for answer number two, what you're doing here is recovering from the answer to number three, which I can only take a wild stab at, but as near as I can tell, it appears that your head side-swiped a mace. I found you wandering around out there in shock and I brought you in and sewed you up."

"How'd you know I was a-"

"Whoever hit you not only busted you up pretty well," said Hunter, "they also smashed your implant. I'm a pretty decent surgeon, which is a lucky thing for you, and I removed it. I'll show it to you if you like, but the little suckers are tiny and your vision probably isn't going to be so hot for a while."

"You're an observer," Lucas said.

Hunter laughed. "Oh, no, not me. I'm through with that gig. I'm just a plain old citizen."

"I don't understand."

"I'm a deserter."

"I don't believe it."

"It's the truth. See, I just sort of… well, retired, you might say. I take it you're here on an adjustment."

Lucas nodded.

"I figured as much. There's some kind of circus going on back here, a real crazy merry-go-round. They've been sending people back and forth and back and forth, I mean, it's really frantic. At first, I figured maybe they were on my trail, but that just didn't add up, so the only other answer had to be a threatened timeline split. That's a bad deal, friend. Heavy business. Standard duty's bad enough, but an adjustment on a split, that could be a real killer. If you're smart, you'll just throw in with me and take a real long vacation. You're KIA now, with your implant out. They'll never trace you. I've got a pretty nice set-up here, all the comforts of home. I could do with some company. What do you say?"

Lucas looked slowly around the cabin and, at first glance, he took in the sound system, the microwave oven, the holovision and the cassette file, thousands of books, a reading lamp and chair, several Persian rugs, racks of pipes with tobacco humidors beside them…

"How on earth did you…" His voice trailed off as the answer became obvious.

"What, all this stuff?" said Hunter. "No sweat. I've got a chronoplate."