CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

That night, the drawbridge was raised and, thanks to the infusion of Gisbourne's nineteen troops, the guard patrolling the castle grounds was nearly doubled. It seemed Sir Guy was most serious about heightening the security of Nottingham's main stronghold.

Come morning, however, some semblance of normalcy returned to the castle. The main gate was lowered, allowing free passage to visitors and merchants, as well as any of the staff who didn't live at the castle full time. Sir Guy, however, personally issued a new directive to the sentries.

"Do not allow anyone inside who might be Robin Hood, or might be hiding him. All deliveries, carts and luggage are to be thoroughly searched. All foxes are to be detained without question, regardless of age, size or gender. Any creature who might be a fox disguised to look like some other species is to be inspected. This means pulling at tails and tugging at snouts to see if they come off. All hats are to be removed and all hoods are to be pulled back for a clear view of the faces under them. I've put a guest book by the main gate; every soul who passes in and out of Castle Nottingham will now be required to sign it. Any who refuse are to be arrested at once and brought straight to me. This includes castle staff as well, even those who dwell within these walls. The only excuse for not signing that book is if the stones are falling down around your ears, or if you are in hot pursuit of the outlaws we seek. Do I make myself clear?"

The sentries - a mix of longtime castle guards and the soldiers Gisbourne had brought with him from London - competed with each other to see who could nod their agreement and understanding most enthusiastically. The newcomers, having been stationed overnight with some of the Nottingham veterans, had freely shared their accounts of what had happened between Gisbourne and the ill-fated captain along the Sherwood road, and word of that incident had quickly spread through the ranks. None here wanted to be the first to get on Sir Guy's bad side.

That task tended to, Sir Guy sought out the Earl. Finding the white cat already seated at breakfast, Gisbourne joined him at table without awaiting an invitation. "Earl, I will want a full tour of this castle - every nook, cranny, closet, storeroom, passage, attic and service area. Before I can properly turn my attention to the apprehension of Robin Hood, I must have the layout of my base of operations firm in my mind. Only then can I direct my attention outward, to Nottingham and Sherwood Forest. Please arrange this forthwith."

The Earl, who would normally be somewhat put out by having such demands placed on him so early in the day, actually showed relief as the obvious solution to this request occurred to him. "Why, of course, Sir Guy. In fact, I know just the ones to act as your guides in this task. Two eager young spirits, full of energy and vigor, who just so happen to know this castle inside and out - perhaps even better than I do myself." His gaze traveled over the dining hall, settling upon a pair of late-arriving youngsters who were taking up position in one of the upper galleries, standing by to await their lord's pleasure. "Oh, Skippy, Avery!" he called out, waving to the rabbit and raccoon. "Would you please come down here? I have a special assignment for you two today ... "

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Not long after the drawbridge was lowered for the day, Alan-a-Dale sauntered across the span with his lute across his back, strutting as if he didn't have a care in the world while a happy tune whistled from his beak. The wandering troubadour was a familiar sight around Nottingham, and had been a guest of the Earl's many a time over the years. Nary a soul in the surrounding town or country would have failed to recognize the rooster minstrel and balladeer, who had entertained nobility and peasantry alike. Even the castle guards had a soft spot for the feathered musician who'd been known to serenade them on lonely night watches or provide ribald sing-alongs in their barracks. It was widely understood that Alan-a-Dale was free to go where his spirit took him ...

So it came as a surprise to Alan when he reached the end of the drawbridge and found an inked quill being thrust into his feathery grasp. "Sign 'ere ... "

Alan glanced from the dour face of the sentry to the sign-in book and back again. "Hey, this's something new," he observed, without coming across as either challenging or too curious.

"New rules," the guard grumbled. "No one goes in 'r out wirrout signin' th' book. You want in or not?"

"This bird's got nothing to hide, so, why not?" Feigning nonchalance, Alan inscribed his name on the top line of the page; apparently he was the first to seek entry this morning. "Hmm - what about those who can't write?"

"Guess they ain't gettin' in then, heh heh!" the gruff sentry guffawed.

"Whose rules are these, anyway? Something new the Earl's tryin'?"

"Naw, it's Sir Guy o' Gisbourne. Didn't you see 'em parade in 'ere yesternight?"

"Must've missed it, friend." Finishing his signature with a theatrical flourish, Alan made to proceed into the castle grounds. "Hope this Sir Guy is a fan of the musical arts ... "

"Ha! Don't hold yer breath, beakface! Ain't a sentimental bone in that panther's body!"

"Then I'd say my work's cut out for me," Alan airily surmised, strolling through the main gate into Castle Nottingham.

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Skippy and Avery were fairly dismayed at having been assigned to show Sir Guy around the castle. The mood there had changed literally overnight with the arrival of the stern black panther, and neither young courier was thrilled about being in the company of this unforgiving warrior. It didn't help that, when Gisbourne said he wanted to see every corner of Castle Nottingham, he meant it most literally.

"What's in there?" he would inquire every time they passed a closed door, curtained alcove or shut hatch. It didn't matter whether it was a disused storeroom, a cluttered closet, a cobwebbed cellar chamber or a dingy dead-end hall - or, for that matter, the private chambers of the Earl and the other nobles; Sir Guy wanted to see it all. He was especially interested in the high tower bedroom where the attempt had been made on King John's life. He spent a long time gazing out the window, looking out over the green lawns and straight down the outside of the tower.

"They say Robin Hood climbed right up this wall the night he tried to kill the king. Is this true?"

"I guess so," Skippy said. "I was asleep and Avery was at home with his family, so we didn't see it."

"Yes. Most of the castle was asleep, thanks to that outlaw's treachery. Still, an impressive feat ... " He turned and stalked out of the chamber. "Come along. I've seen the interior of the castle from top to bottom. Now it's time to inspect the grounds."

The two youths hung back a moment, Skippy whispering to his raccoon friend, "Why are you helping him out so much? This guy's here to kill Robin Hood!"

"The Earl said to show him everything and answer all his questions," Avery defended. "We gotta follow orders!"

"Well, you don't have to be so eager about it ... "

"If you wanna get on that knight's bad side, be my guest. I'm not gonna risk seeing the inside of a dungeon just so - "

Sir Guy's voice, rising from the staircase beyond, interrupted their hushed conversation. "Well, come along!"

Resigned to their fate, the two reluctant tour guides exited the tower bedroom, Skippy throwing a disgusted glance Avery's way.

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After a quick peek in all the outbuildings and a cursory survey of the various wall gates, Gisbourne had Skippy and Avery take him up to the ramparts of the outer wall. When they came to the blockhouse above the main gate, the panther went into another of his more studied inspections, just as he had in the tower chamber.

"Now, I have heard that on the day Robin of Locksley was declared an outlaw again, he escaped from the castle through here. But, I do not see any way out. However did he manage it?"

"He rode the portcullis down." Avery pointed to the narrow gap in the stone wall. "Through there."

"Through there?" Sir Guy echoed, stalking over to examine the crevice while Skippy elbowed his overly-cooperative friend in the ribs. "It doesn't seem any grown fox would be able to fit through there. I find this hard to believe."

"Here, lemme show you ... " Avery came forward before Skippy could stop him and demonstrated the outlaw's escape technique by squeezing himself through the crack and levering himself between the stone and portcullis grating. "See? This is what he did. Then he just rode it down when they lowered the gate to keep him inside. They didn't know he was already on the other side ... "

Sir Guy squinted, just barely able to make out Avery's dim form clinging to the heavy latticework within its stone sheath. "Amazing. I could never fit in there. This Robin Hood must be quite a bit smaller than I am. Now, come on out of there, my boy, before you hurt yourself."

"Oh, it's perfectly safe," Avery insisted, squeezing back out into the blockhouse. "As long as no one lowers the portcullis while you're up in there."

"You sound as if this is something you've done before yourself. A child's adventure game, perhaps." Gisbourne leveled an accusing stare at his two escorts. "Might this be how Robin of Locksley knew he could escape this way?"

Skippy had already sensed that the scheming warrior might be trying to maneuver them into this kind of verbal trap, and had been formulating his response even while Avery was wedged in the portcullis mechanism. Before his friend's sputtering could give them away, the rabbit said, "Robin of Locksley was a free noble for two years after his pardon, and visited here many times. He liked to look around just like you're doing now, and we showed him everything he wanted to see."

Gisbourne's malevolent gaze narrowed at Skippy. "And you freely admit this?"

Skippy gave an innocent shrug. "Robin of Locksley was a noble, good sir knight, and we're just lowly couriers. We were not about to disobey him, any more than we'd disobey you."

"I see ... So you're saying Robin Hood knows this castle top to bottom?"

"Probably better than the Earl himself, sir."

"Interesting." The panther's immediate interest in his two young guides seemed to dissipate. "Very well. I've seen all I needed to see. It's past midday, and you two must be very hungry. Run along to feed your little bellies now ... and thank you for your help."

Skippy and Avery bowed toward Gisbourne, then practically fell over themselves in their haste to be out of the warrior's intimidating presence. Out on the walltop, Avery said, "Now who was being too helpful?"

"Hey, I pulled your tail out of the fire, standing there sputtering like a caught fish!"

"Yeah, but now he knows we're the ones who showed Robin Hood everything!"

"You think he wouldn't have figured that out by himself? He's been talking to everyone in the castle. Someone would've told him if we didn't, and this way it looks like we were just following orders. And besides, we never showed Robin Hood anything."

"We ... didn't?"

"Nope. He was Robin of Locksley back then - King Richard's nephew by marriage. And were we really gonna refuse the king's nephew?"

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Descending the wall steps a few moments after Skippy and Avery, Gisbourne had his eye caught by a most incongruous figure lounging atop a hay cart across from the main gate. The panther stalked across the courtyard to confront the colorful character. "And just who, pray tell, are you supposed to be?" he demanded.

The rooster cocked his head toward Sir Guy. "Don't know who I'm supposed to be, friend, but my name's Alan-a-Dale, and pleased to make your acquaintance."

Gisbourne didn't know entirely what to make of the bird's folksy drawl and easy manner. "Are you the court fool, or the village idiot?"

By way of reply, Alan strummed at his lute and crooned:

"Every town has its idiots

And every court has its fools

But I'd like to imagine

That I'm neither of those."

Stopping at a single simple verse, Alan smiled down at Gisbourne from atop the haystack piled into the cart's bed.

"An idiot it is, then, if that's the closest you can come to a proper rhyme. What is your business at Castle Nottingham, Dale?"

"Not business, simply pleasure. Troubadours such as I go where we're welcome, and don't go where we're not. I've always been welcome in the Earl's court, so here I am!"

"Hm. Sounds to me like you're spying."

"Not spying, friend. I am always on the lookout for material to use in composing my ballads, and take it wherever I can find it. Now, if things have changed and I am no longer welcome here, say the word and I shall be on my way ... "

"Not so fast. Do you know Robin Hood, by any chance?"

Alan-a-Dale shrugged. "Depends what you mean by 'know' ... "

"Then educate me."

"There's hardly a soul in Nottingham who hasn't crossed paths with him at some point or another, either as Robin Hood the outlaw or as Robin of Locksley. Since I am widely traveled, I suppose I've crossed paths with him more than most. He did engage me to teach him some of my musical talents awhile back, but I didn't have the heart to tell him he doesn't have a musical bone in his body. That, and he had a hen housekeeper who was always making unwelcome eyes at me. So, after our first few lessons, I found ways to beg off going there anymore."

"You've never been a member of his band?"

"That I have not. I'll play for anyone, but joining them's another matter. Life's complicated enough without linkin' up with known outlaws and wanted criminals. I prefer a much simpler existence, thank you very much."

"And you've not seen him since he became an outlaw again?"

"Not that I can recall, although I hear he's very good at disguises. Could be we've passed on the street and I didn't even realize it was him."

"Yes, like that otter disguise he used to infiltrate this castle the night he made his attempt on the king's life. You wouldn't happen to know anything of that, would you?"

"I know it's the stuff that makes for good ballads. I've written a bunch about Robin Hood." Alan strummed his lute. "Would you like to hear some?"

"Not particularly. And stop trying to change the subject. We were speaking of the attempt on King John's life ... "

"'Fraid I can't help you with that, friend. I was at the Greenleaf Tavern that whole night, even past closing - just ask the barkeep if you don't believe me. Never set foot anywhere near this place. Sad to say I missed the whole thing. Too bad - would've made quite a song."

"You seem pretty cavalier about a royal assassination attempt. One might question your loyalty to the crown ... "

"Now, now, don't go making me out to be something I'm not. If anyone had gotten seriously hurt in that incident, t'would have been a sad and tragic chapter in England's history, and I'd not be making light about it. But the king's still alive and back in London, and everyone's gettin' along just fine here, so what's the fuss?"

Gisbourne leaned in toward Alan-a-Dale, setting his paws on the widely-spaced cart rails. "It's clear to me you are at the very least an enemy sympathizer, and perhaps more than that. However, since I have nothing more than my suspicions to go on, you'll not be seeing the inside of a cell this day."

"Well, that's a relief. I've been there before when I couldn't pay my taxes, and it was no fun."

"I suspect you would find the experience even less pleasant with me as your jailer." Gisbourne stood back from the cart. "Watch your step, my friend. You may be accustomed to the Sheriff's buffoonish incompetence, but there is a new sheriff in town, so to speak. Be sure to mention that to Robin Hood, if your ... paths ... should happen to cross again anytime soon." The panther spun and paced toward the castle while Alan continued to relax atop the hay pile, outwardly unperturbed by his run-in with the accusatory warrior.

Just inside the castle doorway, out of sight of the rooster, Gisbourne called two of the guards over to him. "Keep an eye on that minstrel fool out there. I want to know every step he takes while inside these walls, and everyone he so much as nods to. Is that clear?"

The two soldiers saluted. It was crystal clear.

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Before settling himself atop the hay cart, where he knew he'd be sure to attract Gisbourne's attention, Alan-a-Dale had made his own informal tour of the castle. While Sir Guy had been poking his nose into every corner of the place to scope out its layout and architecture, the rooster minstrel had made more personal rounds, chatting with staff and nobles alike to find out what he could about Nottingham's newest resident and gauge the mood within the castle. He studiously avoided the panther until he was ready for their face-to-face meeting, wanting to arm himself with as much information as he could before making Sir Guy's direct acquaintance.

Now that he had a fairly good measure of just what kind of creature they'd be dealing with, Alan gave his lute one final strum and prepared to dismount the haystack, eager to rejoin Friar Tuck out in the town. Before he could make his descent, a voice called up to him from alongside the cart.

"Psst! Mr. Alan, sir!"

The rooster glanced down to see Skippy standing by one wheel, trying to remain unobtrusive as he conversed with the troubadour. "Uh, hello, Skip! How can I help you?"

"That Sir Guy is here to kill Robin Hood!" the rabbit loudly whispered, cupping one paw to his mouth. "You've got to warn him!"

Alan redirected his gaze forward so that he would not betray Skippy's presence, and continued noodling on his lute so that anyone who saw his beak moving might assume he was working on a verse. "Already on it, son. Friar Tuck's waiting for me outside, and I'm going to meet up with him right about now. One of us will head into Sherwood to let Robin know what we've learned, while the other stays here to keep an eye on things. You just look out for yourself, Skip. Gisbourne's twice as dangerous as King John ever was. Stay out of his way as much as you can, until we can figure out what to do about him."

Alan-a-Dale casually slung his lute over his back and slid down from the haystack, alighting on the ground with a feathery flutter. "Well, I'm off for other parts elsewhere," he announced to no one in particular, and sauntered toward the gate while Skippy crept off in the opposite direction, hoping nobody had noticed him conversing with the rooster.

At the gate, Alan was stopped and made to sign out in the guestbook before being allowed to proceed. "The times, they are a-changin', aren't they?" he mused to the unsmiling sentry before strolling across the span and disappearing into the heart of Nottinghamshire.