The carriage clattered through the town gates, then up the steep, curved incline leading to the castle courtyard. Robin remained on edge, ready to fly at the least hint of suspicion from one of the guards. A page came forward to open the carriage, but the sheriff dismissed him.
"I'll handle things from here," the tomato said. "Have some chamomile tea sent to my lady's chambers."
Robin kept his head down and followed the tomato into the keep, trying to act natural. He had only been in the castle once and only as far as the great hall on the floor above, when he had had that disastrous dinner with Prince John.
The sheriff continued to dismiss attendants who came forward to take their cloaks, saying things like, "Send chicken noodle up to her chambers" or "Set up the humidifier." A few servants raised their eyebrows when the sheriff would not let them near the cloaked figure, but none challenged the lord of the castle.
At last the sheriff opened a door and led Robin down a long hall.
"Where's Marian's room?" Robin whispered.
"We'll take the spiral staircase on the left," the sheriff instructed. "She's in the tower above the keep."
The sheriff led him up the stairs as casually as he could manage, but even Robin, who barely knew him, could see he was on edge. They reached the landing, but they had only gone ten or so steps down the corridor when the sheriff halted and shoved Robin back.
"Princess Isabella!" he hissed, whirling and leading the charge down the opposite direction.
Behind them echoed the zucchini lady's voice: "Alert Lady Anne that I require her presence when she returns."
"Lady Anne and the sheriff just did, my lady," came the youthful response from someone who was probably a page, "but the coachman says Lady Anne isn't feeling herself."
"Then have the kitchen send her some soup with my compliments."
Lady Anne is going to have her room crammed with sick remedies at this rate, Robin thought.
The sheriff zipped around a familiar corner, and they ducked into the great hall, shutting the oaken door as quickly as they dared. The sheriff pressed his ear against the crack, frowning as he listened.
"Once the coast is clear, we'll head upstairs," he whispered. "After we get Lady Marian and Lady Myrtille, we can…"
The sheriff trailed off, gaping toward the open balcony on the other side of the hall. Robin followed his gaze and blinked slowly, recognizing what looked like one end of a rope made of blankets flapping in the wind.
Marian had managed to climb down the castle ivy outside her bedroom to the battlements of the keep, but there was still a looming drop between her and freedom. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking a few breaths to calm her raw nerves.
Myrtille would have scolded her for taking such a dangerous risk, but Marian felt confident that she could still climb down a castle wall like she had in her tomboy days, hunting for adventures around every corner. Even if she had not been remotely sure footed, it still behooved her to try to get help for Bethlingham. Prince John had shut the town gates because of Marian's rash threat to tell on him to his mother, and many peasants could starve before he allowed traffic outside again.
Taking the coil of rope made from white sheets off her shoulder, she looked around for a safe place to descend, but she could see at once her rope would not be long enough. Her best bet was to climb to the balcony of the great hall, then make her way down a trellis to the yard below.
She listened attentively for a few minutes. Fortunately, the great hall was quiet, but the servants would start preparing for supper soon, and time was precious.
Unfortunately, a medieval gown was not an ideal climbing outfit. It swished awkwardly around her leg, nearly getting between her sole and the stone. She paused to set it right with a tug, but she pulled too hard. Her foot slipped, causing to cry out. Her body flailed in the air, jerking her off the rope. She struggled to catch hold again, but gravity claimed her, and she plummeted down —
— Right into the invisible embrace of a concerned cucumber.
"Are you okay, Marian?!" he cried, his large eyes sweeping over her for injuries. He had caught her, bridal style, with ease, keeping her floating in the air.
Marian stared at him, taking in the concerned gaze, the round nose, the pencil-thin mustache and goatee, the cute, single tooth. He looked older, obviously, but his face was still just as sweet (and just as handsome). A flood of warmth welled up in her heart for him.
In the stretching silence, her rescuer chuckled nervously.
"Hi, m'lady. I don't know if you recognize me, but I'm—"
Regaining her senses, Marian promptly twisted in his grasp, flinging herself against his strong neck in a tight hug.
"Oh, Robin!" she cried with relief. "I'm so glad you're here!"
He stiffened in surprise, but he relaxed and cradled her.
"I missed you," he whispered.
She squeezed him tighter, burying her face. "And I, you."
Part of her wished to stay longer, but her senses reminded her that she was an escaped prisoner, and Robin was a wanted cuke. Reluctantly, she drew back, and Robin tenderly lowered her, but he did not immediately let go. His eyes held such warmth that she nearly hugged him again, but she cleared her throat, forcing herself to stay grounded.
"I trust you have an escape plan?"
"Sorta," he returned. "The sheriff knows the best way out, though."
"The sheriff?" Marian turned and flinched to see the tomato standing within the dining hall.
He stood near the oaken doors, gazing at red-and-yellow banners with giant black B's
"Don't mind me," the sheriff called over his shoulder, pushing back the hood of his cloak. "I've been studying these old heirlooms, so I've conveniently missed anything you two kids might have said to each other."
Marian heated, but she smiled gratefully at his discretion. Robin chuckled nervously, finally releasing his hold on her waist. Gradually sobering, the two crossed over to join him. The sheriff similarly took ona more steady-eyed mien.
"Robin, you wait here with Lady Marian while I go get Lady Myrtille," he instructed, "then we can sneak them out. There's a secret passageway in the dungeons that leads out of the castle, but after that, we'll have to find a place to hide until we can get out of town."
The cucumber nodded firmly. "We can hide the ladies with Miss Lewis. She'll keep them safe while we're thinking of the next step."
"Good idea!"
Marian turned toward the sheriff, getting an idea. "We're going through the dungeons, you said?"
"It'll be risky," the tomato answered, "but I can send the guards somewhere so that you guys can sneak in."
"And the Dungeon of Despair is down that way?" she asked. "Will we be able to reach Sir Guy?"
The tomato's brow furrowed. "Right. Almost forgot about him. Poor fella."
Something in Robin's gaze shifted. "Sir Guy?"
"Of course!" She whirled around to face him, imploring. "We were neighbors in Normandy — and he's such a dear friend — and now he's languishing in the Dungeon of Despair as we speak! I don't know how much longer he can hold on."
He blinked at her two or three times, before a tiny smile appeared.
"You're right," Robin said. "Then I will help you rescue your dear friend."
"Oh, thank you, Robin!"
He did not reply but stepped over to the door to stand guard with his bow and arrow while the sheriff drew a wooden sword from beneath his cloak and hurried off to rescue poor Myrtille.
In the solitude that followed, Marian crept up to Robin. She burned to say something, to lay her head against his again while they waited, but when she took hold of his collar in her invisible grasp, he shuffled away, shaking his head. He did not meet her eye.
"Later," he said. "Wait until later."
Disappointed pricked her, but she smiled.
"Later," she agreed.
Creeping down into the dungeons, Robin could not believe so many veggies had business which put them right in their way. Chambermaids, kitchen maids, errand boys, stable boys, serfs, and guards all seemed to be around the corner or stepping out of a room just as the fugitives approached. Several times, Robin and the women had to duck behind a tapestry or a suit of armor while the sheriff whistled innocently until the coast was cleared.
At last, they reached a corridor where two carrots stood guard. While the three fugitives waited in the shadows, the sheriff sauntered over to them.
"Might as well go on your break, fellas," he said in a bored voice. "Get something to eat while there's still food in the castle."
"Yes, Sheriff," they answered, saluting with their halberds.
The sheriff waited until they had disappeared around the corner before motioning towards his friends to hurry. Together, they scurried down the damp corridor, following the torches in sconces into the dungeon level. At last the sheriff halted by a door with a barred window. Across from it, two wooden pegs hung on the wall. One held a linen rope, but the one labeled "DUNGEON KEY" was bare.
"Where is it?" Robin asked, spinning toward the sheriff.
"Prince John told us to throw the key away," the tomato replied evenly, "but he never told us to take the trash out."
Checking over his shoulder, he hurried to a waste bin by the wall. Fishing through scraps small pieces of rubbish, he withdrew a brass key.
"Clever!" Marian beamed.
The sheriff winked at her and crossed over to the door. He started to insert the key, but he paused and glanced at his companions.
"You might want to stand back," he advised. "It's always potent when you're exposed to despair the first time."
The three complied, retreating a few feet back up the corridor. The sheriff took a deep breath, visibly braved himself, and turned the key. The sharp click of the lock echoed, like a definite note of warning, and they all froze, listening.
The corridor behind them remained quiet, thankfully, and the sheriff at last positioned his shoulder against the wooden door, pushing it inward. He immediately gasped and retreated to the opposite wall, panting.
"Sheriff!" Lady Myrtille exclaimed. "What is the matter?"
"I'm… I'm okay. Just… takes awhile before I can get close," he gasped, but his whole demeanor seemed to have changed. His shoulders slumped, and he pressed his head against the wall like an orphan abandoned to starve in the streets.
Robin crept forward, and Marian followed. Torchlight illuminated a ledge without a staircase, necessitating veggies to use the nearby linen rope to get in and out. Robin had nearly reached the doorway when cold, damp air met him like a hint of winter, but with it came something else.
Something heavy, something mournful and lonely. Like all the bad things in the world had placed a piece of themselves inside, and you had no choice but to feel all their sorrows at once.
Robin immediately threw his bow in front of Marian, blocking her path.
"Not safe," he gulped, shaking his head. "Stay back."
Marian looked at him steadily, even as a somber, tearful demeanor crept over her.
"He's my friend, Robin," she sniffed, pulling out her silk handkerchief. "I have to look."
Robin reluctantly lowered his bow, and that mournful feeling from the dungeon seemed to congregate on his shoulders while he watched her creep to the door. Marian leaned carefully forward, scanning the deep darkness beneath the ledge.
"Sir Guy?" she called softly.
The slight echo of her voice was the only response.
The sheriff swallowed. "Are we too late?"
Marian covered her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. "Oh, this is on me… This is on me…"
Robin gazed at her, swallowing. He turned for the linen rope.
"I'll go look, Marian."
No one stopped him. Robin tied one end to a metal ring near the door and tossed the rest over the ledge. He passed his quiver and bow to Marian, who quickly notched an arrow in preparation. Grabbing the rope, Robin took a deep breath of fresher air and descended.
One hop down, then the next. The damp air seemed to grow heavier with each drop. Robin dared to peer into darkness, and something like a cylinder shape laid huddled against a portion of rocky wall. Robin squinted, and he could just make out the long, banana-like nose of Sir Guy.
What's the point of rescuing him? a somber, hopeless thought murmured. Even if we both make it out alive, Marian will marry him, not me. I'm going to die alone if I survive…
Robin let out a long, shaking sigh, slumping his head against the linen rope. All those years of waiting to see Marian again… wasted now… and here he was trying to rescue his rival… he should just release hold on the rope and stay in the dungeon…
…Then realization struck him hard. Gasping, he turned his face back towards the torchlight and hauled himself to the door. He scrambled onto the ledge and flung himself into the corridor, panting.
"Robin, what's wrong?" Marian cried softly.
He gulped several mouthfuls of air, feeling the dreaded heaviness slipping off him.
"I—I could feel it," he gasped. "Despair… pressing on me… give me a moment…"
"I warned you, didn't I?" the sheriff said grimly. "Once you're in the dungeon, there's no way out."
"Oh, maybe we should wait for Lady Anne to talk to Queen Eleanor," Lady Myrtille mourned. "None of us can resist despair in our own power."
Robin raised his head. "Then I shouldn't do it in my power then."
He pushed himself back to his feet and grabbed the rope again. Steeling himself again, he glanced heavenward and sent up a quick prayer. Then before he could change his mind, he propelled himself back into the darkness.
Useless, just useless… that sad voice sighed again. I'm never going to marry or have a family. I'll die alone. I should just stay here forever.
Robin clenched his jaw, pushing the thought away.
"I have to do the right thing, when it's in my power to do so," he repeated under his breath with each step until he reached the floor. He hung onto the rope for a few moments, gulping more air to stave back the unbidden tears attempting to gather around his eyes. Mustering all his strength, Robin hopped toward the figure of Sir Guy and gave him a shake.
The cucumber didn't stir.
Robin shook him again. "Sir Guy?"
In the dark, something shifted, and Robin realized Sir Guy had opened one eye. Still, he stayed quiet.
"I'm here to rescue you," Robin said bravely. "I'm… a friend of Marian."
Sir Guy turned his face away.
"Useless," he sighed. "She deserves… better… than me."
Robin swallowed hard, blinking moist eyes. "It's… her choice though. I'm taking you back to her. C'mon."
He pulled Sir Guy up, but it was a struggle of dead weight. Sir Guy made no attempt to help himself, and finally Robin had to drag him over to the linen rope.
"I can't remember how to be happy," Sir Guy whispered as Robin propped him against the wall. "Can you?"
Robin shuddered but forced his invisible grasp to work. He fastened the rope around Sir Guy's waist and climbed up the line, just enough to have a good hold on both the rope and Sir Guy.
"Sheriff!" he called out, choking back sobs. "Pull the rope! I can't do it alone!"
"Hang on, Robin!" the tomato called back before he directed the women to help him.
The rope moved inch by slow inch. Half-climbing, half-dangling, Robin kept hold of Sir Guy so that he did not crash his head into the wall. The tendrils of despair continued to wrap themselves around Robin, and he forced his mind to focus on material things around him instead of his sorrowful future.
The rope is REAL. The wall is REAL. Sir Guy is REAL. That rock digging into my side is REAL…
Images of Marian and Sir Guy enjoying their happily ever after crept into his head — Marian practicing archery with Sir Guy the way she used to with Robin — a June wedding in the cathedral — Marian in a beautiful bridal gown with summer flowers in her hair — a resplendent castle where scores of little cucumbers and rhubarbs with Sir Guy's nose and toothy grin clamored around Marian and their father…
The ROPE is REAL, Robin told himself. My HAT is REAL. The WALL is REAL…
At last his body bumped against the ledge, and there was Marian, tugging Sir Guy to help drag him into the corridor. Lady Myrtille grabbed Robin's shoulder to help climb up while the sheriff recovered the rope and wound it up to return to the peg on the wall.
"He's not responding," Marian whispered, peering into Sir Guy's vacant face.
"Let's get him out of the castle," the sheriff advised. "The further away from the dungeon he gets, the more he may wake up."
"'May'?" she repeated in alarm.
The sheriff looked at her grimly, then turned to Robin. Robin nodded and quickly helped Sir Guy sit up. It took effort, but he managed to load the other cucumber onto his shoulders. With Marian still holding Robin's bow at the ready, the sheriff lead them further into the dungeons, until they came to a dead end. The sheriff leapt up, pulling a sconce on the wall.
Something creaked, and a part of the rock swung back, revealing a dark, cobweb-ridden tunnel.
"Only a little further, folks," the sheriff assured them.
The tunnel spilled out into a deserted alley with a dead end, somewhere in the middle of town. Following the sheriff toward the exit, Robin had to tread carefully with Sir Guy so that his hops did not cause a loud echo. They paused near the mouth of the alley, waiting for the night watchmen to pass, and Robin took advantage of the brief torchlight to glance around to get his bearings.
"Hey," he whispered to the sheriff once starlight surrounded them again, "we're near Miss Lewis's house. We can hide Sir Guy there until we can figure out what to do next."
The sheriff nodded, then led the dash to the other side of the road. They stayed within the shadows, taking a few detours to avoid other watchmen, and though Robin knew his way around in daylight, he was sure he would have gotten lost if he had lost sight of the round sheriff. Finally, they turned onto the last cobbled sternest, and thankfully candlelight glowed inside Miss Lewis's house.
The grandmotherly gourd was surprised to see them, but she ushered them inside, asking no questions until they had laid Sir Guy down on a bench by the hearth. She draped a blanket over the pale cucumber, listening as Robin caught her up to speed. Once Miss Lewis stepped back, Marian knelt beside Sir Guy, inspecting his expressionless features. Robin swallowed but fought back the feelings of self-pity and jealousy.
Sir Guy was alive. Marian had not lost her true love. Robin could be thankful that she was spared an ocean of tears tonight.
"All I got is gruel," Miss Lewis offered, bringing a bowl to the cauldron by the hearth. "Better than nothing."
She ladled some gray mush and handed the bowl to Marian. They both propped Sir Guy up to eat, but the mush barely passed his lips, no matter how much Marian coaxed him to eat. Whatever made it into his mouth just sat on his tongue. Sir Guy neither swallowed nor spat it out. They tilted his head to try to spill it back into his throat, but he coughed a few times, dribbling the gruel onto his already dirty tunic.
"It might be too thick for him to eat," Lady Myrtille observed sadly, handing Marian a napkin. "We don't want him to choke."
"Oh, Sir Guy," Marian mourned, lowering the spoon again. "You only entered that contest because you knew I was going to present the golden arrow. I should've never come here!"
The sheriff sighed, shaking his head sadly. "No, Lady Marian, I was the one who put together the contest as a trap for Robin. I'm the only one to blame here."
"There's no point playing the blame game," said Robin firmly. "What's done is done, and God can turn any bad situation around, if we trust Him with this burden."
"Right you are, Robin!" Miss Lewis smiled with a nod of maternal approval.
They tried to coax another spoonful into Sir Guy's mouth, but again the cucumber barely responded.
"If only we had some broth," Marian sighed. "We could get that down his throat."
"And to think," the sheriff said, "I sent bowls of hot soup and herbal tea to my wife's room earlier! They're sitting there untouched while someone who actually needs them can't get to them."
Robin turned, getting an idea. "The secret passageway! We could sneak back in and get what we can for Sir Guy."
Everyone protested at once.
"Too dangerous, Robin!"
"We got lucky escaping!"
"If you're seen, Prince John will order you and maybe all of us into the Dungeon of Despair!"
Robin listened to his friends calmly while they rattled off all the reasons why his plan was a bad idea, right up there with invading Russia in winter. A glance at Sir Guy's frail form, however, renewed a conviction inside his mind. He waited until they all stopped to take deep breaths before he spoke.
"I have to do good," he said, "when it's in my power to do so."
"But that doesn't mean you walk into a bad situation on purpose!" the sheriff cried.
Robin smiled at him. "Why did you go to the dance academy today, even though you knew Prince John would punish you if he found out you were going to get help?"
"Because people in my town were hurting, and an innocent man was in prison, and I had the chance to help…" He trailed off, blinking several times, before he scowled. "It's not the same, Robin!"
"If we wait too long," Robin countered, "Sir Guy could be a goner. Then we would wish we had done something when we had the chance."
The sheriff made several odd noises in the attempt to form a response, but he finally exhaled.
"…Fine. But you don't know what you're getting yourself into," he warned.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Robin countered, glancing toward the unblinking patient.
Marian touched his shoulder. "Oh, Robin, I don't like this!"
He smiled sadly. "We have to try."
"But we do it my way or not at all," the sheriff insisted. "Understand?"
Robin grabbed his cloak, then his bow, and saluted.
William waited until they were out of earshot of Miss Lewis's house before halting in his tracks.
"Last chance," he said. "We can turn back and tell them it was too dangerous to sneak back inside."
Robin looked down at him with a patient smile. "I can go by myself if you need to go back."
"That's not what I meant," William grumbled. "What's that guy to you?"
"Sir Guy," Robin replied.
"That's not— I mean, who is he? Your friend?"
"A friend of a friend." Robin made a mild shrug, but he seemed a little more somber. "I don't want him to get worse because I didn't help. I couldn't do that to Marian."
William shook his head, turning back to the cobbled street in front of them. He could not understand that cuke. Risking his necks for veggies he barely knew — what did he have to gain from it all?
Is he brave for the sake of being called brave at this point? he wondered, but he instantly knew Robin genuinely meant well. Someone was hurting, so Robin helped: not for public fame, street credit, money or warm fuzzy feelings of self-satisfaction, but just because that was what Robin Good did.
William found himself wishing he was brave like that.
Well, I could be, he told himself, if Prince John was nicer, and there was no Dungeon of Despair in my home, and I knew there would be no negative consequences whatsoever for myself or Anne…
William exhaled, shaking his head at himself. "Coward."
Robin jolted, startled. "What did I do?"
"I wasn't talking to you," William replied, rounding a corner.
They retraced their steps, skulking through the night without incident. The sight of the dead-end alley never looked more gorgeous, but William held his breath all the way down the street and did not relax until the secret door shut firmly behind them, plunging them in safe darkness. He pressed his sweaty forehead against the cold stone, sighing.
"You okay there, Sheriff?" Robin asked somewhere near him.
"Yeah," he said with a nod which Robin could not see before he straightened. He took a few hops into the corridor, and he heard Robin's footsteps behind him.
"So, here's the plan," he whispered. "You stay in the secret passage. I'll go grab whatever seems useful and pass it to you. You take it back to Sir Guy while I stay in the castle for the present. If Sir Guy needs more, you can sneak back here, and I can get it."
"That's pretty smart," Robin replied, "but are you sure you want to stay here?"
"It's my castle," William returned. "I'm the only one of us who can move around freely. Besides, I can make sure Prince John doesn't find out Lady Marian or Lady Myrtille aren't in their rooms before my wife gets to Queen Eleanor."
"Good point."
William wished he had thought to bring a few matches to help him see, but he knew the passage fairly well from his days as a little tomato, when he would sneak in here to eat candy bars and read comic books without his nursemaid scolding him. Soon enough, he found the other exit, but just as he reached for the handle, the door opened on its own.
Torchlight flooded the air, revealing two of his potato guards peering in.
"Look," one was saying, "Prince John told us to search any and all secret passageways, and this is the only one I know that leads out—"
The speaker halted, and the two potatoes gaped, first at the unexpected sight of their liege tomato, then at the wanted outlaw right behind him.
William took a step back. "Now, Sergeant, there's a good explanation for this—"
The potatoes both formed triumphant smiles, taking fighting stances with their plunger-quarterstaffs.
"Great work, Boss!" the sergeant beamed. "You captured Robin Good!"
