An Arrow in Our Side
A/N Some of the misspelling in the children and Ada's speech is how it would sound with their accents or childish way of speaking - most of these instances are italicized for my benefit. Please bare with me…
"Out! Get out I say!" the Mother Superior heard Sister Ada bellow. The Mother didn't need to know who was being scolded, it was sure to be the same rigmarole that was heard everyday at the Monastery. Sister Ada continued on her rampage, "This 'ill be 't bell, book, and candle for you!"
"Sister Ada," The Mother Superior broke in with her own chiding. "You cannot excommunicate a child of five."
"But, ye can't even imagine what he's been into! I'm a missin three, three mind you, humble pies! I swear he must be the devil in disguise, walking about like a Lion, eating everything his belly can hold - and even some it can't!"
With gritted teeth the Mother continued, with as much calm as she could muster, "I would prefer that you didn't refer to any child, no matter how undisciplined they may be, as Satan himself."
"Fine, Mother. I'll be a heeden ye words, but mark mine. That little rapscallion is going to best even your sweet nerves one of these days," and with that Ada swooped back into the kitchen. The Mother Superior rubbed her forehead, she had to do something with this little mite.
Meanwhile, in an unused corridor, a little brown haired boy with icy blue eyes sat. He had three meat pies in his lap. He looked at them greedily and began to scarf them down, one by one. Licking his fingers after no more than five minutes, he stood up when he heard noise coming in his direction. His heart fluttered, thinking it was Sister Ada or another one of the Nuns that seem to scurry about. For some reason (none that he caused of course) they all flitted to him, like moths to a flame.
He pressed himself against the wall, and barely peeked out of the corner of his eye. No, it wasn't Nuns at all - it was several of the orphaned boys that resided along side him. Blue pools glinting with indescribable pleasure, the lad jumped out from his hiding place, materializing like some free spirited alchemist.
The boys, some only a tad older than himself, gasp in utter surprise. One of them managed to squeak after the initial shock, "Archer, you scaret us!"
Thinking quick, young Archer deepened his voice and puffed out his chest, "I'm not Archer - I'm Master at Arms Ailwin to you! And you are my troops, besieging the evil castle in -" Archer had to pause, cogitating what town name he would turn against them. "York! That's it, the immoral castle of York."
"What does immorrel mean, Archer?" one of the little fellows of about four asked.
"Immoral? Well Sister Ada uses it lots when she's talkin to me. I think it means bad. Ya know, naughty," Archer stepped back from the querying toddler, a notorious bed wetter, Archer didn't want to catch whatever it was that caused him to do that.
"Why are we besiginging the castle?" another little one piped up.
"Because, there tis a damsel in dissent who we have to rescue! Come on then, my men, follow me!" and with that little Archer marched off down the forgotten corridor and into adventure.
About a hundred paces into the dark, Archer regretted that he didn't have a torch to light the way - especially because some of the youngest 'soldiers' were sniffling. "Stop mewling! Where is your sense of pride?" he faintly heard one of the little ones cry about not having his blanket, Archer rolled his eyes. At five he was too grownup in some ways and just right in others. He had a great desire to explore, which caused some of the Nuns great apprehension. Yet he also still delved into the world of his mind's eye, whenever he felt the need to slake the unquenchable thirst for new worlds.
Archer preferred not to become attached to anyone, the poor little lad having been shuffled about more times than he could remember. He never trusted promises (or threats for that matter), and friendship and love were unattainable objects that always seemed barely out of his reach. His hand might brush against one of them - only to be burnt like touching a blazing fire. Archer couldn't count how many times he had thought that he found a home and then be turned out on his ear at the slightest hint of boyish trouble. The only person that Archer relied upon now, was himself. And at five, that was a weighty responsibility to bare.
In every aspect of life, Archer continued to look towards the light at the end of the tunnel, but, in this particular situation that he and his other colleagues were in, there was no light. Only consuming darkness. Feigning complete bravery, Archer continued on with his narrative, "Alright men, we are traversing the underground tunnels that lead to the dungeons! We have to get there fast or else-" and Archer slid his finger across his neck, not bothering to think that no one could see him, and made a choking gurgle to signify a throat being sliced. His body tingled when he heard them all gasp, showing what control he had over their minds. It was fun to be able to frighten and amuse them, they were looking to him for the next step.
Archer tore through some rather large cobwebs that tangled in his mousey brown hair, he could hear that some of the other lads suffered the same fate. Gallantly, Archer continued on into the blackness to save his maiden. "Look out!" Archer suddenly cried without any warning. All the children screamed in terror at the unknown assailant. Archer continued, "There is a pit of wolves! And they're hungry. Oh, so hungry! We have to cross a board that's been laid down, or suffer an untimely demise!"
To tell the truth, Archer did find a board, old and abandoned, laying in the middle of the floor. Merrily he jumped upon it, being the first to face the starving creatures. "If you fall off, your dead. The wolves will tear you to bits!" His razzamatazz was lost on his followers, as they were oblivious when he wobbled off the edge. And without a doubt, he was not going to confess to his own error.
Archer made it across lacking further incident. But, alas! Several of his companions suffered an untimely end. The wailing that ensued was almost insufferable. "What?" Archer screamed above the din.
"We got ate!" the tiny babes cried. Archer sighed, looking to the heavens, "Alright! Alright, you only hardly got ate. Get up and come on, yeesh." The troop continued on through the bowels of Purgatory to their destination. But, when Archer came to a fork in the path, he became agitated. What trail was he going to take?
Before he had a chance to think, a solider asked, "Arch- I mean Ailwin, where do we go?"
"Um…"
"One urchin burst into wails of 'he doesn't know.' Archer yelled, shaking the un-traversed hall to a radical degree, causing layers of dust to spew over the little travelers, "I'm improviding!"
"What's improviding mean?"
"It means I'm making it up!"
Little cowering 'oh's' echoed about the passageway, as Archer jabbed a finger in the direction to the right. The baby band continued on their quest through the shadowy tunnel, muttering, squealing and even crying at various intervals.
About this time Sister Ada was hard at work in the kitchen, replacing her humble pies. Without warning, she was witness to some rather disturbing sounds. Such wailing and moaning voices she never did hear before. Crossing herself she fled the chamber, rushing to the Mother Superior.
"The kitchen tis haunted! Ghosts! Oh, what'll we do?"
Grabbing the frightened woman by her shaking shoulders, the Mother Superior held her still, "What is the matter? What Ghosts? Tell me my child!"
Lips quivering, Sister Ada began at a slower pace, voice still at a rather high pitch, "In the kitchen, there be frightful sounds a'commin. Apparitions, come to haunt us for the rest of our days!" She broke into horrendous sobs when she finished.
Seeing that she was not going to get anywhere, the Mother Superior left the blithering superstitious woman to weep, while she, herself, trod into the kitchen. Once there, she could hear the ruckus coming from - well it seemed to be coming from inside the wall.
She pushed her ear up against the barrier between her and the spirits, what she heard could have made the hair on the back of the Devil's neck, himself, standup. "That's it! I'm leaving those who wont stop crying right here! Now either shut the h-ll up, or plop down and await your fate!" Young Archer's voice rang clear and the Mother Superior crossed herself at the unholy reference. These were no specters at all, but they might be as soon as she got hold of them. The Mother Superior stopped herself, she couldn't harm these innocent - mostly innocent - children, she would never forgive herself. As far as Archer went, she considered, he was no child at all - but a mischievous woodland sprite sent to vex her. Still, he was at least in the form of a child…
In a much more dignified composed manner, she exited the kitchen and began to take long determined strides down the corridor. It took her quite a lot of effort but she found a dark deep hall that she knew was unused, she would start her hunt here.
Archer, on the other hand, was in the middle of his quest. "We're almost there men. Stick with ol' Ailwin and you'll live to see the morrow. But we have to be careful now, this spot here is riddled with booby-traps!" He smiled as gasps filled the stagnant air around them, this was going to be fun. Archer stood up on tippy toe, surveying the area, and took the initiative first step, hopping from brick to brick on one foot. The other lads were not a successful at this part as he was. They fell and wobbled, calling out in distress when they landed on the ground.
Pint sized Archer, forever the flawless leader, sighed, "Get up off yer bums and keep going, 'for ye get an arrow in ya!" Submissively, the children rose up and followed after their infallible guide.
Deftly the Mother Superior walked along the dark corridor, praying that her charges would be just around the next turn. At each turn she let her hopes drop, maybe Sister Ada was right… No, that was Archer's voice, without a doubt. Boldly she continued on, till she caught muffled voices sounding off in the distance. Picking up her skirts, the Mother Superior quickened her pace.
Before he knew exactly what evil was upon them, Archer heard the flurry of skirts and felt a stiff weight on top of his shoulder. He tilted his head backwards to see the dangerous behemoth that had dared to latch onto him, Archer shuddered when he looked up into the flashing eyes of the Mother Superior.
He could hear a tapping sound and wondered at first if it could be his heart awaiting the switching that was sure to come, then he appreciated that it was the Mother's foot drumming against the floor. Archer gulped, before putting back on his façade of bravado, "You have the courage to lay your hands on me? Why, I am Master at Arms Ailwin, leader of this band and scourge to all! Prepare to meet your maker!" Archer had to admit that after the last sentence, his head joggled about so, as the Mother Superior gave him a good shake for his impudence. Incognito Archer glared up at her, his game having ended far too quickly.
In her sternest voice, the Mother Superior said, "Turn right around and march!" She followed the children as they made their way out of the bleak hall but Archer she kept beside her, fingers wringing his ear. The five year old fidgeted as they walked, trying desperately to keep in step with the woman for fear that his ear would be twisted off.
Once out of the black corridor the Mother Superior sent the children to their rooms but still held onto squirming Archer. She turned him to face her, attempting to remain placid as she bent down to his level, "What do you think you were doing?"
Avoiding her eyes and burning a hole into the floor, Archer replied, "I was just playin."
"Playing? You could have been lost."
"Lost? It's only a hallway! How can I get lost in a hallway?"
The Mother Superior mentally admitted to herself that this baby had a valid point, still… "There are many ways," she continued, not giving in to his sound logic. "Also, what if you had been hurt? Or one of the other children? No one might have found you."
"You sure did," Archer said exhaling noisily.
Recalling how uncared for and willful the child was, through no fault of his own, she continued on a kinder note, "You need to think things out, you could have put everyone's lives in danger. What if something had happened? What if there were traps?"
"In this stuffy old place."
"Do you know who built it exactly? This might not have always been what it is today."
"You mean, the Vikings might'a built it?" Archer's eyes took on a bright overwhelming sparkle.
Hesitating slightly, the Mother Superior continued, "Well yes, I suppose so."
"Oh, boy!" Archer gave a small hop. "Do ya think there could be treasure?"
Putting her hand to her chest in surprise, the Mother answered, "Goodness me, no. No, Archer."
Archer snapped his fingers in disappointment. His light blue eyes looked at her with wistful hesitation, "Are you sure? 'Cause if there was I could buy me a whole manor 't live in, all by myself."
Her eyes grew sad at the insight that Archer didn't want anybody. He craved his own companionship, and that might brood trouble when he became older. It could lead to reckless abandon, insensitivity and self-indulgence. The Mother Superior feared for Archer's soul.
Lost in her own worries, she didn't see Archer look up at her yet again, "Are you gonna switch me?"
Almost before she become conscious of what she was saying, "No, I am not going to switch you. But, you have to promise not to do anything of the sort again."
Archer looked down at his boots, this was the hard part. Grasping for anyway out of a direct answer, he replied, "I promise not to take the babies down anymore passageways."
Not having perceived the way he rather sidestepped the command, the Mother Superior took Archer's hand and led him back to the main rooms.
Barely forty-eight hours later a young Friar, sent to check on the children, heard the distinct bellows of Sister Ada. He cringed and went to ask what was the matter. She blew up at him as well, "What's 't madder? What's 't madder tis that ragamuffin of a boy has stolen 'ome more of me humble pies!"
Trying frantically to hide the glimmer of a smirk that played upon his face, the young man continued, "And, pray tell, what is the lad's name?"
"It be Archer, an that little horror is an arrow in our side!" Sister Ada huffed.
"I'll have a talk with him," and with that the Friar went off in search of the child, hand covering his mouth.
Archer was seated in his favorite passage, gulping down one of the pies, when he heard strong adult footsteps coming in his direction. In a flash, he hid the pastries behind him.
Almost passing by the corridor, the Friar stopped short when he saw the figure huddled in the dark. He turned around and entered the hallway, sitting down next to the culprit. "You must be Archer." The boy nodded his head, food flakes decorating his chin. Taking his sleeve the Friar wiped them away, much to the five year old's surprise.
Smiling at a nearly forgotten memory, the youthful Friar began to speak to Archer, "You know, I remember the last time I stole a humble pie."
Wide eyed, Archer looked at the Friar, "You stole?"
"You bet I did, just like you. Now look at me."
Fear flooding his eyes, Archer said, "I don't have to join the church too, do I?"
Chuckling, the Friar ruffled Archer's brown head of hair, "Not unless you want to. But let me tell you the story. See, I swiped them out of a window and hid behind a tree. Ate them all up, I tell you. With pure relish," he smiled as Archer, quick minded as he was with all words too large for his age, mouthed the last word back to himself - trying to figure out what it meant.
"It means to enjoy. The next day though I found out something that made me never eat humble pie again. Can you guess what that was?"
"The woman who baked them starved?" Archer said with awe in his tone.
"No, that wasn't it. I found out what they were made of."
"What?"
Holding up one finger for each ingredient listed, the Friar started to name them, "Well, there's a deer's liver and it's heart and, this is what really did it for me, the deer's brains." The Friar had to hold in his laughter at seeing Archer's face contort into a gag.
Poor Archer, on the other hand, did not find the situation quite as amusing. He felt like he was about to wretch and the thought of two more of those, waiting behind him, was almost more than he could bare.
"Now," the counselor persisted. "What do you think about the crime you have done? Was it worth it?"
Tongue sticking out in disgust, Archer managed to choke out, "No it wasn't. I'll never steal again. I'd rather starve!"
"I'm glad to hear that, but I would prefer it if you didn't starve."
"I knew Sister Ada didn't like me… But I didn't think she was going to try an kill me!"
A/N
I don't own BBC Robin Hood - and don't want to. What I do want is a Time Machine…
I hope that you liked the story of little bitty Archer. I think that this is about how he would have acted growing up. Thank you so much for reading, double thanks if you review.