Chapter 4 – Whither the Lionheart?
Wilson and LeBeau exited the Colonel's quarters a few minutes later and Wilson responded to the men's unspoken worries. "The Colonel's doing fine fellas, still sleeping. Believe me, the rest will do him good."
LeBeau followed Wilson to Carter's bunk where the medic knelt down and lifted the blanket up at Newkirk's feet to check his ankle. The Frenchman leaned over Wilson's shoulder and watched as he gently probed the Englishman's bruised, swollen foot and ankle. Newkirk didn't stir as Wilson tucked the blanket back over his feet with a satisfied grunt.
"Well Joe?" asked LeBeau. Carter and Kinch stood beside the Frenchman, awaiting Wilson's prognosis. Wilson stood and looked around at all of them.
"He's doing fine, Louis. I just wanted to make sure I didn't tape his ankle too tightly. He still needs to rest as long as he possibly can."
A knock sounded at the door and Kinch opened it to reveal an obviously nervous Schultz standing several feet away from the doorway.
Kinch stepped outside and asked, "What is it Schultzie?"
Schultz gestured for Kinch to return inside the doorway. "Please Sergeant Kinchloe, do not come outside! The Kommandant has sent me to tell Sergeant Wilson that he is to stay inside your Barracks until the quarantine is lifted!"
"What was that Schultz?" asked a curious Wilson.
"Barracks Two is under quarantine until further notice per the Kommandant's orders!"
"What about roll call?" asked Carter.
"The Kommandant ordered me to do a head count, but...but..." Schultz took a step back.
"But what Schultzie?" Kinch wanted to know.
"I do not want to get whatever it is Colonel Hogan and Newkirk have!"
Wilson came forward and gestured Schultz to come closer. "Do you want me to count the men for you?"
Schultz' eyes darted about and then he leaned in to whisper, "Ja Sergeant, but no monkey business please?
Wilson's face projected the very picture of innocence. "Who me Schultz? I swear by Hippocrates that you can trust me!" He stepped back into the barracks and re-emerged to give Schultz the full count of men in the barracks plus himself.
Schultz looked none too convinced but he nodded and loped away.
Wilson closed the door after he stepped back inside. "Well fellas, guess you're stuck with me for the duration!"
As the morning progressed, he felt the inexplicable pull of a steadily increasing sense of urgency. Even though he still didn't know how or why he had ended up here, he swore to carry on as the Robin Hood these men expected him to be, so he called the Merrie Men together beneath the imposing branches of the Major Oak. It was time to make definite plans to rescue the Lionheart from the Sheriff of Nottingham's clutches, for if the King proved to be who he thought he was, then time was of the essence.
However, as he had told Will Scarlett, he first needed to make another reconnoiter of the castle to locate the exact room where the King was imprisoned so they would waste no time when they returned to set him free.
As Nottingham Castle had lain derelict for quite some time before the Sheriff took it over, an ongoing program of renovation and fortification was currently underway. It would be a simple thing for he and his accomplices to disguise themselves as common laborers to gain access to the castle.
He looked at the men gathered round him and took courage from the determination he saw on their faces. "Men, I wasn't able to locate the King within Nottingham Castle yesterday. We know 'e's there, we just need to find out exactly where. We also need to know 'ow many men the Sheriff 'as there. We can't just go in 'alf cocked, the King's life is at stake 'ere."
The men murmured in agreement amongst themselves, keeping their attention focused on him. He stood silent for a moment, then chose Scarlett and Little John to accompany him back to Nottingham Castle. He put Much and Friar Tuck in charge of providing the three of them with clothing suitable to that of the laborers engaged in the renovation of Nottingham Castle. They would leave after the noon meal.
Getting inside the castle proved ridiculously easy, as they were able to blend into a large party of craftsmen and laborers on their way in. All three of them breathed a sigh of relief as the guards passed the workmen through as a group and did not scrutinize them individually.
He turned back to Scarlett and Little John and whispered, "Let's 'ope the rest of the guards are just as lazy as those blokes!" His men had their doubts but they nodded in agreement regardless.
Once within the interior of the building, the workmen dispersed into smaller groups, based upon their skills. The masons headed in one direction, the carpenters in another, the painters in still another, depending on where they were working that day. The general laborers also scattered to their various locations and the three men of Sherwood did likewise as they sought to find where King Richard was being held.
They tagged along behind a group of several laborers, one of whom was, fortuitously enough, indelicately broaching that very subject.
"'sblood mate! I've 'eard tell that the Sheriff 'as our good King Richard 'ere in this very castle!" whispered one of the men.
His companion seemed unimpressed and told him so. "Ong-tongue's what you are. I'd not be blutterin' out such rubbish if I were you."
"It's truth, God blind me! One of the guards swore the King is right 'ere in this castle!"
"'e's daft then! Yer'll be gettin' us drawn and quartered if ya don't shut yer gob!"
"Don't believe me do ya? 'e's bein' 'eld in the old barracks building in the East Bailey accordin' to that bloke. I should think 'e would know..."
Before he even finished speaking, the other man turned to seize his talkative friend about the throat and hissed, "I said shut yer bleedin' gob. That's none of yer concern. If ya don't stop this squiddle, I'll 'ave ya sent 'ome and'll make sure ya never work again."
The gossiper clearly understood his position and shook himself out of the other man's grip. "Prithee, I willnae speak of it again. I beg your pardon."
The other man pushed his companion back after the others and whispered, "See that ya don't or I'll 'ave yer 'ead on a platter!"
The two men's conversation had not been as discreet as it should have been. Scarlett and Little John looked to their master, who like them, had overheard every bit of it.
"Someone's lookin' out for our good King Richard today mates! Let's 'ead for the East Bailey!"
As they made their way through the castle, he idly wondered to himself as to the King's identity. Could only be one person. I mean, who else could it be? All me other mates are already accounted for.
They finally made their way to the relative isolation of the East Bailey, taking immense pains to arrive undetected whilst at the same time gauging the size of the castle's garrison. Soon they were carefully and quietly making their way down the hallways of what appeared to be an abandoned barracks within the walls of the bailey.
Surprisingly, they had not yet encountered any guards. Scarlett nudged him and whispered, "Robin, are you sure we're in the right place?"
"I'm not sure of anythin' right now Will, just keep goin'." No sooner had the words left his mouth than they heard the faint sound of voices echoing off the walls. "'ello, ello, what've we got 'ere?" He turned to his men. "C'mon! Let's take a look see!"
They silently crept along the wall which led them to a junction. He sent Little John to scout ahead, and he soon returned to report that the corridor to the left led to a dead end with two sentries standing guard at the entrance. He waited as his master digested that information.
"Good work Little John. I'd 'ave to guess that's where the King is being 'eld. What else is there to guard 'ere?" He rubbed his chin as he murmured, "The Sheriff mustn't think anyone would be lookin' for the King 'ere, since 'e's only got two guards posted."
"The question is, how do we get past them?" Scarlett wanted to know.
"And a very good question it is, Will." He had to ponder that one, since they needed to pave the way in order to come back and retrieve the King with the least amount of danger. Leaving two unconscious sentries behind today would have the entire garrison on alert.
He stepped back and thought furiously. "I've got it!" he whispered as he drew his two men close. "Come 'ere, mates. We're gonna pull an old-fashioned flim-flam on these blokes. Now Will, Little John, this is what I want you to do…."
Flim-Flam? Little John stared wide-eyed at his master, wondering what on earth he was talking about. He looked to Scarlett, who shook his head and rolled his eyes. They both decided to just let it go and leaned in as their master quietly outlined his plan.
The sound of loud voices suddenly bounced off the stone walls of the corridor.
"Thou art the dullest, doltish dunce I have ever had the rude luck to befall!" complained Little John loudly as he and Scarlett approached the sentries. "Ye have us lost, I say!"
Scarlett affected a wounded countenance as he bleated, "Say not so, Elwethe! I but followed our good master's direction!"
The sentries stiffened in surprise as the two men marched right up to them, engaged in an intensely raucous argument. The nearest sentry stepped forward, brandished his pike and bellowed, "Halt!"
Both men jumped as if they had been so engrossed in their argument, they hadn't noticed the sentries. Little John pointed at the guard and thumped Scarlett roughly, "See what thou hast done now, featherhead?"
"Featherhead? How durst thou callest me that, thou font of waltrot?"
The sentry tried again and he approached the fractious pair. "Halt, I say! What business have you here?"
Little John bowed his head, acknowledging the sentry. "We are but humble laborers." He gestured at Scarlett dismissively. "Yon hoddypeak Barric here insists this is where we are to perform the day's labors and I say not!"
"T'is you towering lout!" Scarlett leaped up to cuff Little John on the head and Little John grabbed him about the throat to drag him out into the far right corridor. The sentry moved in to try to separate the two combatants and called for his companion's help. The second sentry left his post to rush to his companion's aid.
Little John craned his head in order to make sure he saw his master dash into the now-unguarded hallway. He then pulled Scarlett, along with the two sentries, further away down the far right corridor.
Well done mates! He quickly made his way down the corridor, checking each chamber as he did so. He reached the dead end of the corridor at the last chamber, which was smaller than all the others, and peered through the barred opening set within the door into the dimly lit room. He gasped as he saw a tall figure dressed in a distinctive red surcoat adorned with the three leopards of England sagging against the stone wall, restrained at the hands and feet by shackles chained to the wall.
He squinted to get a better look at the bedraggled figure and saw that the man was indeed who he had suspected all along. Cor blimey! It is the Gov'nor! He shook his head in amazement. I can't think of a more fittin' title for you than Cœur de Lion, Colonel. 'ang on! We're gonna get you outta 'ere!
He called out in an urgent, low voice, "Sire?" There was no response from the royal prisoner. He tried again. "Sire? Don't despair Sire. We know you're 'ere and we'll be back soon to release you!"
The chained figure painfully inclined his head in acknowledgment.
"I 'ave to go now Sire. We'll be back!" He crept silently along the wall towards the noisy altercation in the far corridor and slipped back out into the shadows of the main corridor. He gestured to Little John, who nodded slightly and pretended to lose his grip on Scarlett's throat.
The sentries took that as their opening, seizing the two men and herding them back out to the main corridor junction.
"Be off with you! Take your sniping elsewhere! There is no labor to be done here! Return upon pain of death!"
"But…" protested Scarlett. The sharp points of the sentries' pikes poking his ribs changed his mind.
Little John grabbed him and they sullenly moved down the main corridor. "Come Barric! Ye've gotten us in enough trouble for one day!" He looked back to make sure the sentries resumed their positions, which they thankfully did. After they had gone some distance, he looked around and whispered, "Robin?"
"Over 'ere mate!" came the hushed reply. "Well done men! Yer both natural born tricksters!" He looked round the main corridor. "Now let's find our way out of 'ere!"
They headed down the main corridor and somehow got turned around, for they inadvertently headed into a shadowy, spider web laden blind that terminated into a small, crudely made, nondescript doorway. They suddenly stopped as something about it caught their master's attention.
"Robin! What are you doing? We need to flee!" hissed Scarlett after he suddenly smacked into Little John due to the unexpected stop.
A strange thought struck him as he perused the crude opening in the wall. Could it possibly be…? I'll bet the Sheriff doesn't know about this! He knelt down and examined it more closely. He felt the slightest of breezes emanating from within the opening and gambled that his hunch was correct. I'd bet real money this leads down to Mortimer's Hole! If so, I know exactly 'ow we're gonna rescue the Gov'nor! He turned to his two companions and waved at them to follow him inside.
"C'mon mates! This way!" he whispered. "Careful, don't take a tumble!"
There simply wasn't time for argument so Will Scarlett and Little John reluctantly followed their master into the dark opening. They carefully picked their way down an isolated, steep, seemingly interminable stairway which led them to a large, dark chamber dug deep within the castle's sandstone foundation.
A narrow entrance to what appeared to be a passageway had been carved through the solid sandstone. Scarlett and Little John stood back uncertainly as their master leaned in to investigate the tunnel's exceedingly dim, nearly pitch black interior.
Scarlett didn't look optimistic. "We have no idea where this tunnel ends. How do we know it doesn't lead to a dungeon or torture chamber?"
"We don't," put in Little John, who then turned to look searchingly at his master. "But we don't have much of a choice either, do we Robin?"
"No we don't," he agreed. He straightened up and looked fondly at both of them. "Don't fear mates, I have an old and familiar acquaintance with tunnels! Follow me!"
He ducked down and plunged into the dark depths, his two men following, albeit reluctantly. He raised his head, sniffed a bit, then whispered, "I smell fresh air. There must be an opening to the outside." He followed the scent down the long and winding passage, passing several junctions and chambers, until a steadily increasing light came into view. He sniffed the air again, and waved his men onward. "C'mon mates! 'ere's the entrance! Let's hie to Sherwood!"
He was right. They soon found themselves outside, skirting the sandstone outcrop that served as the foundation of the large outer bailey of the castle, to the east of the main building. Thankfully the area was heavily forested and they easily disappeared within the cover of the greenwood.
A/N Mortimer's Hole is a historical reality.