Charles of Yorkalia was neither knight, nor prince, nor nobleman. He wasn't a rich man, and his bright tunics and hose were shabby and worn. He was, however, a popular minstrel and teacher of the performing arts, a man who was much in demand in the kingdom of Nerdocrumbesia.
If he wasn't performing in a play in Yorkalia, he was teaching eager young minstrels the tricks of his trade in Holly Woods. He spent all of his time traveling the dusty roads on his little chestnut pony Cornelius, searching for another court or kingdom that required his services. His only worldly goods, besides Cornelius, were his lute, his few travel supplies, and his small bag of threadbare costumes.
Normally, Queen Betty and King Allen welcomed him with open arms. The good rulers adored music and dancing and often held elaborate parties in their main capitol Telavisia City. Here, even peasants dressed in colorful dirndls and trousers, dancing with abandon well into the night. He'd entertained the royal couple in their court many times.
Today, however, something was most definitely rotten in Nerdocrumbesia. The shutters on every building in town, still painted in bright crimson, were shut tight. The few souls to be seen scuttled past him in mournful gray and black cloaks, not even looking him in the eye. Even little children sat lethargically in their schoolrooms as a slender woman half-heartedly taught them two plus two. Date palms and green scrub were limp against the gloomy clouds and closed shops. A few pairs of eyes watched him from slits in their shutters as he rode past.
“What the hell happened here?” He mused as he and Cornelius rode up to the gates of the palace. “Who died?”
The iron gates of the magnificent Password Palace were slammed shut, something Charles had never seen. Two guards in the yellow and orange uniforms of Nerdocrumbesia stood on either side, their long lances shining in the darkness of the dull afternoon. “Halt!” The taller of the two, a handsome man with broad shoulders and swirling chestnut hair, dropped his lance in front of him. “Who goes there?”
“Sir Dick Gautier,” he frowned, “you know I'm Charles of Yorkalia. What's going on here? I've been away in Yorkalia's Land of the Time Square for nearly a year, and I return to find everyone in hiding! Did something happen to the king and queen?”
Dick's striking face fell. “Ah, but you don't know then, old friend. I'm sorry, but you're no longer welcome here. This is now the domain of the Queen Malade. Lord Skutch keeps watch over her affairs while she's away.”
“I want to talk to him, then.” Charles held firm. “Or to the king and queen.”
Dick awkwardly held out his lance. “Charles...really, I am sorry. I wish things were different, but the queen has banished all performers. No music, no parties, no performing, no laughter.”
“What?” Charles' mouth dropped open. “That's the dumbest thing I ever heard! Even dumber than some of our answers. No one can live like that! Where's the real king and queen?”
Dick made a face. “I don't know. No one knows.” He took a quick look over his shoulder and shoved at Corneilus' flank. “You have to go now! Skutch is coming!”
“Sir Gautier,” honked a slender blond man in a tight maroon suit made of fine silks and velvet, “what is this? What's all the noise here?”
“Please don't punish him.” Charles climbed off Cornelius and bowed before Skutch. “I'm a humble minstrel who has come to play for King Allen and Queen Betty. What has become of them? Or the Wizard Rayburn, their head adviser?”
“Gone. They're not here. Not anymore. I have my top men looking for them.” He waved his hand at the road. “Sir Gautier, Sir Walden, can you show this weirdo out? I have taxes I must bring to Queen Malade's vault, before she starts ranting and raving and turning people into stone again. I'll be leaving in twenty minutes. You and your men are to accompany me. I don't want that knave of a bandit making off with this one.”
“Right, sir.” Dick took Charles by the arm and grabbed Cornelius' bridle, tugging both to the road. “I'll see them to the street. I take it they're banished?”
Charles' jaw was nearly on the ground. “But I didn't do anything!”
Lord Skutch waved a ring-studded hand dismissively. “I don't care what they are! Just don't let Her Royal Nastiness see him. You know how she feels about comedians.”
“Yes, sir.” Dick gave his boss a short nod and bow, then shoved Charles back to the main road, tugging Cornelius along behind him.
Charles dusted himself off the moment they were away from the gates. “Did you have to handle me so roughly, old friend? I mean, there's foreplay, and then there's...”
Dick's flashy smile was gone now. “You have to go. Skutch can be a pain, but he's right about Queen Malade. If she catches you here, she'll do far worse things than throwing you out.” He gazed around him furtively, then drew a gold pendent shaped like a heart on a leather strip from his armor. “Here.” It came away easily from his neck. “Give this to the man they call Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest. He's the bandit Skutch was talking about. Skutch can't stand him, but he'll know what to do.”
“Well, all right.” Charles attached the heart pendent to the crimson scarf he wore around his neck. “Just...be careful. If Skutch finds out you helped me...”
“He won't if you go now!” The muscular knight nearly threw Charles on the back of his horse. “Take the left road into the heart of Sherwood Forest. It's more likely he'll find you before you find him. Take care!” Charles finally galloped off down the dusty road, before Skutch came back and decided to throw him bodily out.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sherwood Forest was just a few miles to the north of Telavisa City. Normally, Charles found a ride through the woods relaxing, but the damp gloom that permeated the capitol infested the woods as well. Towering black pines blocked the sun and masked hideous screeches and moans. A bare breeze rustled the leaves on the ancient oaks and elms. Every sound made him nearly jump off Cornelius!
He pulled out his worn old lute and strummed the taut strings. “What we need, Cornelius, is a good, happy song. Something that will make things seem a lot less scarier than they look.”
He strummed the instrument and opened his mouth...but the first notes of “Brotherhood of Man” stuck in his throat. Something was definitely in the trees. The leaves just over his head rustled too loudly to be just the wind, and he swore he heard voices whispering around him.
“H...hello?” he called as Cornelius stumbled over a root, nearly sending him crashing into the forest floor. “Oof! Who goes there? Please, whoever...or whatever...you are, come out! I won't harm you, I swear!”
“You there!” He stopped and looked into the trees, his nearsighted eyes managing to pick out the figure of a small man in a dark green leather tunic in the gloom. “We order you to stop! This is Robin Hood's country, and all must pay the toll.” The figure held a bow with a loaded arrow aimed directly at him!
He gulped, his hand going to his heart. “Please, I'm a poor minstrel. I have no money. Only what you see here, my lute and costumes and horse. I was instructed by Sir Gautier of the Royal Guards to find Robin Hood.”
The bow and arrow wavered slightly. “How do you know Sir Gautier, minstrel?”
“He's a good friend of mine.” Charles untied the scarf with the heart on it and waved it at the trees. “He gave me this. Said Robin Hood would know what to do. I thought he was a myth.”
“In a way, he still is.” The figure dropped easily from the trees, but he kept his bow raised. “Why do you seek Robin Hood?”
Charles put up his hands. “All I want is to learn what happened to King Allen and his Queen Elizabeth. I've been away from Nerdocrumbesia for over a year, and I return to find them gone and the current rulers claiming they have no need of my services.”
“Aye,” the voice whispered, “you deserve to know that much. Malade struck about a year ago. She swept in with her demons and trolls, destroying all magic and beauty. The Sheriff claimed the entire royal family died in the raid, but there's a...rumor...that the queen and their children survived.”
“Please, Sir Hood,” Charles begged. “I have friends in the Court. It was one of my best-paying gigs. I must know what happened, and if there's anything I can do to help find them.”
“It's not 'Sir Hood,' minstrel.” The man finally sheaved the bow and pulled down his hood, revealing a handsome, tanned face with eyes of sapphire blue and ebony hair sprinkled with flecks of silver. His easy smile made Charles' heart skip a beat. “It's Sir Dawson. Or it was, once. Sir Richard Dawson, formerly of Hogan Manor in the Summerlands.”
“You're a knight?” Charles' voice came out in a squeak. He gulped and spoke in a far lower tone. “What are you doing out here?”
Richard narrowed those deep blue eyes. “When Queen Malade came through, she ordered my family's lands seized and murdered my father and most of our servants. Skutch made Hogan Manor his new quarters. I was told I would be able to remain if I became Skutch's lackey. I despise the man. He's little more than a sycophant. I fled into the woods with my remaining men, making him believe we'd perished in the escape."
More rustling in the trees and a few murmurs drew Charles' eyes back into the trees. He drew back behind Richard. “The...there's something there. I can hear it. Is it some beast?”
“Hardly.” Richard stuck his fingers in his mouth and let loose with a piercing whistle. “Boys,” he called into the trees, “you can come out now! Meet the rest of my Merry Men.”
“Master Charles!” A red and gold blur dashed out and almost leaped into his arms. “Charles of Yorkalia! What are you doing out here?” The two men wound up on the ground, the shorter one wriggling like a puppy.
His mentor could barely gasp an answer. “Glad to see you too, Gary Scarlet. If you'll get off me, I'll tell you!”
A meaty cocoa brown hand snatched the smaller body off his. “Don't mind the lad,” said the broad-shouldered, dark-skinned man attached to it. “Though sometimes strong of mind, in his enthusiasm, he'll often leave good sense behind.” He easily yanked Charles up with one hand. “Nipsey's the name. Normally, I recite poetry and jokes, but it would seem the queen doesn't approve of my livelihood.”
“Nor mine. We're in the same boat, so to speak.” The minstrel gazed around at the four men, then turned to Richard. “And that's why I'm here. I heard Sir Gautier talking to Lord Skutch when I was at the palace gates. He mentioned bringing the tax money through. He and his men will be guarding it.”
A taller man with shaggy nut-brown hair and a dancer's elegant gait frowned. “Something doesn't smell right here. I think this is a trap.”
Richard nodded. “So do I, Bobby. We must be wary.”
A diminutive fellow with a droopy mustache and thinning black hair and eyebrows poked his head out of the same tree Richard had been in. “Hey Boss, I think I see something coming! Might be important.” He tapped on a cigar in his mouth. “The carriage has Skutch's emblem on it, anyway. Two flowers and a money sign.”
“We'll be up in a minute, Donald!” He grinned at the other four men. “I think that money would be of more use to the poor people of Holly Woods, don't you? Why don't we give Skutch a little surprise and relieve him of that terrible burden he carries?”
“Boss,” Donald called from above their heads, “he's almost here!” He poked his head in again, this time with a dazed grin again. “And I think he has a guest with him. A lady guest, if what her voice sounds like is any indication.”
Richard swung to Charles.”How are you with climbing?”
The minstrel made a face. “I've escaped my share of angry bees and crowds who didn't like my jokes. I can figure it out.”
“You're going to have to figure it out fast, Master Charles,” Gary yelped as he pushed him off the road. “The carriage is coming!”
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