"A Thief In The Wood"
“That must be it,” I said, in a loud voice. The swirling of the winds was beginning to get louder, drowning out sounds.
“Unknown,” stated Rob. “Atmospheric readings do not register that tornado as a standard weather phenomenon. It does not compute.”
“What do we do?” asked Melissa.
“Nothing, I guess. Poseidon said the chariot would know what to do.”
“I would advise holding on,” stated Rob, locking both of his pincers to either side of the chariot’s railing.
“I would advise holding on to your tunic, my prince,” laughed Melissa, as the winds began to lift up the little skirt of my tunic, “we wouldn’t want you to get a draft.”
“Very funny,” I said.
“Or flash all of England,” she added with a sly chuckle. I chose to ignore her.
The horses continued forward, their legs kicking rhythmically, seemingly undaunted by the swirling tornado before them. The sound of the swirling winds got deafeningly louder. Melissa and I clung to the chariot and each other as we watched the horses disappear into the side of the tornado. Slowly, the entire front of the chariot was engulfed in the swirling force in front of us.
It was an odd sensation as we entered the tornado. It was a sheet of wind that didn’t affect us nearly as much as it should have. Rob later informed us that the Time Tornado was swirling at an incalculable speed.
Entering the center of the tornado, all got silent and still as we watched the horses soon disappear through the other side of the great vortex. The sound of the winds was not heard on the inside of the tornado. Melissa and I were both too astonished to speak.
We exited the Time Tornado in a matter of seconds; the entire journey taking about 15‑seconds total. We found ourselves once again in a big blue sky. Large, white, puffy clouds drifted below us as we were still too high to see the ground. The chariot gently sloped downward as we began our descent.
Breaking through the clouds, we saw a lush green, thick forest below us. From the legends we had read, we wouldn’t have to go looking for Robin Hood—he would find us.
The chariot landed gently on the ground at the edge of the forest. The team of horses came to a stop and Melissa and I jumped out of the chariot to stretch our legs. Rob activated his turbo boosters to lift him off the chariot and transport him down to the grass..
“Rob, where are we now?” I asked.
“Sensors indicate that we are standing on the edge of the royal forest of Sherwood. The year is 1193 A.D.”
“The Time Tornado worked again,” smiled Melissa.
“And you’d have to admit, traveling via chariot is a lot nicer than tumbling through it by ourselves.”
“My sensors are indicating numerous lifeforms in the vicinity.”
“Human?” asked Melissa.
“Affirmative.”
“Let’s get back into the chariot and proceed slowly through the forest,” I suggested.
“And for extra protection, what do you say to a Multi‑Purpose Protection Field?” suggested Melissa.
“Good idea,” I replied, as we boarded the chariot.
Waving my arms from side to side and over my head in a semi‑circular pattern, I repeated the spell:
“Volnos, Ictos, Frrompton, Zalgart”
We heard the familiar, small, ascending hum that lasted a split second and then reached out to feel the hard, invisible force, approximately five inches from the edge of the chariot.
I took the reins of the horses and guided them through the entrance of Sherwood. The team was very well behaved; which was a good thing because I had no idea how to control a team of horses.
Melissa spent the time thumbing through “The Spell Book of Androganine” trying to locate some sort of spell that would provide us with appropriate clothes for the time period. Rob kept us abreast of the various movements of the human lifeforms in the forest, but none were close enough to be of any kind of threat to us.
After about an hour of traveling through Sherwood Forest, we stopped at a clear stream for some water. It was such a hot day, I decided to take a dip in the cool, babbling water. I lowered the Multi‑Purpose Protection Field and guided the horses to the water; before stripping to my underwear and taking the plunge myself.
Melissa busied herself looking for some nuts and berries, since we had had nothing to eat since leaving the 20th century. That certainly seemed a long time ago and unlike traveling in another dimension like Living Land, we were hungry.
“Warning!” announced Rob, after about 10‑minutes of swimming, but it was too late.
My head was forcibly pushed under the water and held there for a short period of time. I was yanked back out by my hair and then dunked under a second time. I tried thrashing out with my arms, but I couldn’t hit anything.
Finally, I reached back underwater with one of my legs and managed to slip it between the legs of my dunker. With one good kick upward, I felt the grip on the hair disappear. Popping out of the water, I coughed and gagged, spitting out amounts of water that I had tried to avoid swallowing. As I caught my breath, I heard the groans of someone who had just been kicked in the groin. I also heard the hearty laughter of other voices. Spinning around, I saw Melissa and Rob standing on the edge of the stream with three men.
“Good shot, little man,” chuckled the familiar looking stranger, “Little John has never been so humbled.”
“Be careful, Robin,” warned the gravelly voiced, little, fat, bald friar, “he could be dangerous.”
“Dangerous,” laughed Robin, “a nearly naked boy in a stream is very rarely dangerous, my portly padre.”
“That was a dirty trick,” chuckled my large dunking partner, “it would never have be done by a gentleman.”
“Neither would dunking a stranger,” I snapped back. After catching my breath, I headed toward the edge of the stream, “Melissa, do you mind?”
“Not at all,” she laughed, turning her back.
“Rob, hand me my clothes.”
“Affirmative.” Rob (who had been holding my tunic for me) approached with outstretched arms. I quickly initiated the drying spell and dressed.
“Neat trick,” smiled Robin, after I was dressed, “I have never seen one dry so quickly.”
“And what a cute little outfit,” laughed Little John.
“Now, what was all of that about?” I asked, referring back to the incident in the stream—and ignoring Little John’s comment about my clothes.
“It was just little test,” chuckled Robin Hood. (I now knew why they were called Merry Men, since they always seemed to be in jovial moods.)
“Well, it wasn’t very nice,” I responded in a sour tone.
The fourth stranger—who had yet to say anything—began to strum on his mandolin and sing:
“There was no harm, there was no foul,
The water sport was fun for now,”
“Well sung, Alan,” smiled Robin, “my friend,” began Robin, with a bow, “allow me introduce myself. I am Sir Robin of Locksley.”
“I know. It is a pleasure to meet you,” I replied.
“This is Alan‑a‑Dale, my faithful minstrel.” Alan nodded. “This rather round gentleman,” stated Robin, patting him on his tummy, “is the slightly corrupt, yet ever faithful, Friar Tuck.”
“Corrupt my a...” grumbled Tuck.
“Now, now, my pudgy priest. Watch your language in front of a lady.” The friar grumbled some more. “And you have already met my faithful sidekick, John Little.”
“It was an honor,” I smiled sarcastically.
“Now, don’t be angry little man,” chuckled Little John, extending a soaking wet arm, “it was just some harmless fun.”
“You’re right,” I conceded.
As I gave him my heartiest handshake, I performed the Drying Spell on him. He was (to say the least) a tad surprised at his sudden dryness.
“Just a little trick I picked up,” I smiled.
“And a good trick at that,” laughed the large woodsman.
Robin Hood was dressed in green. Many assorted shades of green. He wore the expected green hat, tipped off with a red feather. His boots were made of deer hide and he wore his bow and quiver (containing numerous feather stabilized arrows) flung over his shoulder.
The other Merry Men were dressed in assorted layers of clothing, mostly in browns, greens or tans. Friar Tuck was clad in a large, dark brown, sack cloth robe, tied at the waist with a length of robe. The other three wore leotards (as was the custom).
“Now then, my queerly dressed friend,” began Robin, “what brings you to Sherwood?”
“You do,” I started, “to get right to point, we are travelers from your future.”
“Ha, Robin,” interrupted a skeptical Friar Tuck, “you are not going to believe that tale, are you?”
“When someone has a walking, talking man of metal and says he is from the future, you tend to believe he is telling the truth,” chuckled the jolly outlaw.
“Thank you,” I replied, “we don’t have much time, but the long and the short of it is that we need to take you back with us into the past...”
“Aye, but he said he was from the future,” noted Friar Tuck, to Robin, “why then should we travel with him to the past?”
“...to help slay a monster.” I concluded.
“Slay monsters, did he say?!” laughed Little John, “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha...”
“It’s true,” urged Melissa.
“Well, little lady,” started Friar Tuck, nuzzling up to her, “if it will please your loveliness, I shall slay the monster,”
“With your breath, no doubt,” stated Melissa, pulling away.
“Well, spoken!” shouted Robin, “a fine woman.”
“Well, Rob,” started Little John, “what do you think?”
“I think lots of things,” replied my Rob.
“I love this metal man!” laughed Robin, slapping him on the back, “this could be fun. But, I must insist on bringing my Merry Men along.”
“I’m sure that would be no problem,” replied Melissa.
Alan‑a‑Dale began to sing:
“We are off to slay monsters, off to the past,
I hope we have fun, I hope it will last.”
“Just how do we go back through time?” asked an inquisitive Little John, scratching his bearded chin.
“We have a chariot that will take us there?” I stated.
“Satan’s chariot, no doubt,” mumbled Tuck.
“Your religious training is getting the best of you,” stated Robin, “if you want to stay behind, say the word.”
“Not on you life,” replied the friar.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hood,” ventured Melissa.
“Robin, dear. Call me Robin.”
“Robin, can you shoot an arrow with your eyes closed?”
“Melissa, that’s why we’re here,” I whispered.
“No, no, it is a valid challenge,” started Robin, placing his arm around Melissa, “I am—I believe I can say this..,” he directed toward his men, “...the greatest shot in all of England? Europe? What does it matter? I shoot the king’s deer. I rob from the rich and give to the poor. I stay happy.” Robin’s squeezing of Melissa’s shoulder was getting to be a little more than just friendly.
“Ah, Robin,” I ventured, “she’s with me.”
“No offense intended, master Lawrence. But with a fair maiden like that, you cannot blame a woodsman for trying.”
“Rob, would you please get the chariot,” I requested.
“Affirmative.” Rob let out a high pitched whistle.
“I could have done that,” I said. The chariot, pulled by the four white horses, made its way into the clearing.
“That is going to carry us into the past?” replied an increasingly suspicious Friar Tuck, “not some sort of flying saucer or alien spacecraft?”
“No, this is it,” I replied, “it does a remarkable job.”
“Then it’s settled,” announced Robin Hood, “we are going back to the past.”
The six of us climbed aboard. It was tight fit; Melissa and I stood in front, Robin and Alan‑a‑Dale half-sat on the side railings of the chariot. Melissa warned them that they would have to hold on. Little John said he would take care of that and placed a large hand on each of their thighs to hold them in place. After allowing Rob to board the chariot via his turbo boosters (which was certainly interesting to try to explain) we were ready to take off.
“Chariot, take us back to Olympus,” I said.
The chariot lurched forward as the horses took to the sky. Friar Tuck let slip a few choice words—words that one would not normally expect to hear from a man of the cloth. He then reverted to a small self‑centered prayer.
Robin Hood and Little John marveled at the sights of England from the sky. They had had no idea that beauty of that kind existed on such a grand scale.
And Alan‑a‑Dale sang:
“Flying high, into the sky,
We see our forest, I heave a sigh.”
As the deep green speck of Sherwood faded from view, we found ourselves heading through the misty clouds. I briefed Robin and others on what to expect from the Time Tornado. I also let them know about Medusa’s sister.
The orange tornado was now visible, whirling endlessly in front of us. Robin and Alan‑a‑Dale got down from the edge of the chariot and we all held on as the Time Tornado roared and whipped its furious winds at our approached. Friar Tuck let out a few more expletives as he watched the horses disappear into the whirlwind.
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