Chapter Seventeen

Back in the castle, Allan and Will stood in disguise outside the Sheriff's stronghold on sentry duty. Both were on hyper-alert; the smallest squeak of a mouse sent their hearts racing.

A shadow stealthily approached them and both men drew their swords, prepared for an attack.

"Peace, my friends," Robin calmed them, holding up a hand. "Would you honestly attack your own leader?"

"No," Will replied, relieved and embarrassed at the same time.

"Robin," Allan sighed in relief. Another huge shadow approached, followed by a smaller one. John and Djaq were behind Robin.

"Where's Much?" Will asked, noticing the lack of a fourth shadow.

"Being invisible; he's on lookout," Robin explained. "Now, time for a donation," he announced, motioning for John to move forward. John did so, ramming himself into the heavy wooden door. He had to repeat this several times before the door finally budged, but only slightly.

"Uh, fellas?" Allan said, drawing their attention. "We could just use the key." He produced a large bronze key, handing it to Robin.

"You could have told me," John grumbled, shuffling out of the way. Robin put the key in the lock and turned, his tongue between his teeth in excitement. The door swung open, revealing a dark room.

Each man (and woman) snuck in, keeping to the walls. Robin took a torch from the wall outside and headed in first, making sure that there was no danger.

"Ready," he called, giving the all clear. The gang advanced forwards. In front of them was a huge iron door, securely locked and bolted. Djaq moved ahead, clutching a mysterious looking vial in her hands. After pouring some of the liquid inside on to her hand, Djaq rubbed it on the first lock. The liquid oozed into the lock, and suddenly there was a 'pop!' as it came undone. The first liquid was a lubricant that worked so well that it undid locks because it was so slippery.

Now for the second lock. Djaq took out the vial that burned through metal and poured some onto the lock. There was a sinister hiss as the iron melted away.

Last, most certainly not least, was the third lock. This one was slightly more complex; luckily Djaq had a very simple solution. A liquid substance that rivalled Greek fire.

Djaq sprinkled some of the liquid on the lock. Robin handed her the torch and everyone instinctively took a large step back. Lowering the torch to the lock, Djaq grimaced. With a small but sure 'BOOM!' the last lock exploded. Success was sweet for Djaq; her job was over. They then waited for Much, who came up behind them, giving Robin the thumbs up. No-one had heard.

Again Robin took the torch and pushed the door open, inspecting the room. Inside was more gold than he had imagined possible, and more signs of treachery and treason than he had seen in nightamares. So what was the Sheriff up to?

Much opened a large chest and pulled out something silk, rubbing it against his face.

"So soft!" he murmured. Allan also pulled out a garment, but he made a funny noise.

"I'm not being funny, but someone has a huge rear end," he observed, examining the crude medieval form of underpants with distaste. Much whimpered and dropped the undergarment back into the chest, muttering "Foul! Foul! Foul!" under his breath and rubbing his cheek with his dirty hat.

Robin marvelled at the dark suits of armour that were slumped against the walls, complete with chain mail, a sword and shield baring the Sheriff's falcon crest.

Djaq and Will began to scoop coins and jewellery into the prepared sacks, and when they were full, their pockets.

John surveyed the room with unease and disgust, impatient for the run to be over. Suddenly he heard guards talking outside the external door and tapped his staff on the floor twice, the signal for danger. Everyone except Robin leapt into the shadows. Robin was frozen, trying to figure out which item to take. Which item would convince the King that times were warped and desperate in England?

Footsteps echoed in the chamber-like room outside the stronghold. Perplexed, Robin snatched the first think he could lay his fingers on, and then leapt into the shadows next to a quivering Much. The torch that he had been holding was slowly dying as it lay discarded on the stone floor. This puzzled the two guards that entered the room, who quickly swept their eyes around the room, but found nothing. They were just about to walk out when Much accidentally dropped a silver dish that he had taken, making a huge clashing din as it hit the ground.

"Oops!" Much cried. The guards whirled around, only to face a fearsome Robin with his sword drawn. Allan and John flanked him while Djaq and Will stood behind, weighed down by their takings. Much faithfully joined his master's side once he had recovered. The next series of events happened very quickly.

One guard rushed headlong into John, who with a customary bellow toppled him over. He came back for more, though, and swiped at both Allan and John with his sword.

The other guard had slightly more brain. He used some fancy footwork to dodge blows aimed at him by Much, who wasn't having much luck. Suddenly Much cried out in pain; the guard had sliced off the tip of Much's ear, narrowly missing his head. That was when Robin seized his chance.

Thrusting the handle of his sword down heavily on the guard's head, Robin also kicked him in the crutch area. The man collapsed on the ground, howling in pain. Robin then used his superb sword skills to disarm the first guard, and then did the same as he had to the other one.

The others, who were amazed, recognised that this was no time to gape. The whole gang made a break for it, running as fast as they could in the direction of the kitchens, where a distressed Anne was waiting for them. Allan gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before ushering everyone into the waiting cart, which was filled with sacks of grain. He then whipped off his uniform, revealing his peasant disguise underneath. Will did the same, then they were off.

The portcullis was raised, much to the gang's relief. There was too much pandemonium for anyone to take any notice of a lowly cart making its way out of the castle walls. Some other guards had been alerted to the situation and were scurrying all over the place like angered ants, trying to get everything under control.

Once safely far away from Nottingham, the whole gang sighed in relief. They then proceeded to celebrate.

"Well done, my friends!" Allan cried, clapping each person on the back.

"A job well done," Robin echoed, grinning like a madman. "The Sheriff will be pleased to know that his donations will be used wisely."

"Displeased," Much corrected, not getting the joke.

"Much!" everyone else groaned. Suddenly Robin remembered the item that he had taken. Pulling it out of his pocket, Robin examined the strange piece. It was the Sheriff's falcon insignia on a silver ring. On the inside, it read in Latin:

'Long Live King John'

Robin beamed from ear to ear, barely able to suppress an insane laugh.

"Perfect!"