Prince John, supported by his force of full grown attendants fanning out behind him, was enjoying taunting and bullying such an easy target as the trembling miller's son. The boy's wide blue eyes spoke to John of fear, and stupidity, and gullibility. What a delightful way to get back at that little beast in the manor who had dared strike him! John, a Prince of the Blood Royal!
At least it would have to do for now. This pudgy peasant boy groveling before John was Robin of Locksley's special pet; everybody knew it. John would have a bit of sport with the snivelling brat, and that would help appease his wounded royal spirit, until he could return to Court and tell his father King Henry how the Earl of Huntington's son had attacked and brutalised him, and how "dear" Mumsie had done nothing but agree to send the beastly boy to his room!
"Of course you know who I am," John gloated. "Say it."
Much tried, but needed to gulp before he could speak. John tried coaxing.
"Go ahead, say my name. I won't cut out your tongue, at least not yet."
The prince laughed at his own wit.
"You're...you're Prince John," Much managed to squeak.
"That's right! Very good! And you are...? Go on, I won't bite...at least not yet."
Much gulped again. "I'm Much, the miller's son."
" 'Much the miller's son!' How delightful for you to have run into me, Much the miller's son! The only thing 'much' about you is your pudgy belly!" The prince jabbed his finger so hard into Much's abdomen, the boy doubled over in pain.
"Excellent!" Prince John cried. "I see you know how to bow before your prince! Tell me, Much the miller's son, what are you doing with these buckets?"
Much had been sent by his mother to fetch water from the pond. He was just returning home with two buckets full, trying hard not to slosh the water onto the ground, when the prince had stopped him.
"I was fetching water for my mother, Your Highness."
John gasped with delight. "For your mother! How very sweet!"
His temper instantly turned foul. Narrowing his eyes and scowling, he circled Much threateningly, hatred and menace dripping from him.
"And what is your mother like, miller's spawn? Does she prefer your brothers and sisters over you?"
John's mood changed again. Now, he was relishing playing the victim. He sniffed, and wiped nonexistent tears from his eyes.
"I don't have any brothers or sisters, Your Highness," Much replied.
"None? You're all the miller and his wife have got? Do you mean to tell me, you get all your parents' attention?"
Much nodded.
John's face took on a sour expression. He snapped his fingers, and two attendants jumped forward.
"Douse him," the prince ordered.
Much jumped as two buckets of frigid water were thrown over him. Prince John laughed merrily at his discomfort.
"And what will Mummy say, when you return home with empty buckets? Will she flog you? Oh, I do hope so!"
John's eyes lit up as an idea struck him. "Shall we give you a little foretaste of what you can expect?"
"What-what- what do you mean?" Much asked, shivering violently.
"You dare address me without using proper obeisance?"
"Proper what?" Much was at a loss, not having heard the word before.
"Flog him," John ordered smugly.
"With all due respect, Your Higness," the leader of John's burly attendants asked, "with what?"
"I don't know! Be creative! Use your belts, for God's sake!"
Much sank to his knees and covered his head with his arms as the two burly attendants whipped him with their belts.
Prince John giggled. "Such sport!" Then, desiring further sport, he whined, "No, not the leather ends! Use the metal buckles! Let's inflict some real pain!"
The men did as they were told and Much wept with each blow. When at last Prince John's appetite for pain was sated, he raised his hand for his men to stop, and cried, "Let that be a lesson to you, Much the miller's son! Now, methinks you are too well fed for a peasant! Doesn't Locksley know his serfs will work harder for him if they're hungry?"
He huffed. "Since you enjoy eating so much, and since you're already down on the ground grovelling, let's see how you enjoy eating mud! You're dripping in the dirt. There's plenty of mud for you to taste! Go on! Scoop some up in your hands and let's see you feast on it."
Obediantly, Much dug his fingers into the earth and placed their mud encrusted ends into his mouth. Prince John laughed gleefully.
"And what say you to something even more tasty?"
He snapped his fingers again, and the same two attendants stepped forward.
"Your Highness?" the leader asked.
"Fetch some cow sh#t. And some horse dung as well. Fill his buckets with it. Let's see which delectable treat this pudgy peasant's palate prefers."
It was at this crucial moment that Robin and Marian returned from the forest.
Robin didn't know what the prince was doing to Much, but his friend's unhappiness spoke volumes. Without thinking, he blazed toward the prince like a forest fire.