Chapter Thirteen

"Escaped? How could they have escaped?" Jenner growled through
gritted teeth.

Sullivan had given up on trying to please his King and simply recited the
facts of the matter. "We found a tunnel that led into the surrounding
forest. About a quarter of the way in, we found a collapsed section and a
blood-trail leading to the exit. Near the exit we also found a pile of
discarded clothes and feathers, both pretty charred, as well as a blood-soaked
sheet."

Jenner pondered this information, agitatedly rubbing his dark beard.
"We've hurt them." He whispered.

"Your Majesty?" Sullivan asked.

"I said 'We've hurt them'." Jenner stated. "Even if they did
manage to escape they can't possibly lick their wounds, so to speak, quickly
enough to disrupt my plans for the near future." He then chortled with
glee. "Have the reward for Justin's capture raised to five thousand
crowns. And put a price of one thousand crowns each on the heads of the Brisbee
family and Dr. Ages; alive or dead, it doesn't make any difference."

Sullivan nodded and left the throneroom after Jenner dismissed him with a
wave of his paw.

"Now who's got who by the throat?" Jenner asked aloud to the
silent stone walls of the castle.

The walls remained silent as his laughter echoed and faded away.

Chapter Fourteen

The Sheriff of Nottingham was more than a little peeved by this turn
of events. Brutus considered himself to be, in his not-so-humble opinion, one
of the best quarterstaff fighters in the entire Kingdom of Britain. In fact, he
had shelf after shelf of awards of all types to prove it. But here he was,
facing off against a young gray fox with the improbable name of Will Scarlet,
literally getting his tail kicked!

"Aha!" The youth shouted as his foot landed on the bear's ample
hind parts. The kick had no real force behind it and, in any event, Brutus
towered over his opponent to such an extent that the bear probably wouldn't
even have felt it if it had.

Brutus quickly swept his 'staff downward in an attempt to catch his
adversary behind the knees and knock him on his back. The fox effortlessly
executed a standing backflip, landing on his feet in almost the same place
where he'd stood just a moment before, and then paw-sprung backward out of the
range of Brutus's 'staff.

"Alright, hold it, hold it!" Brutus ordered, leaning on the
'staff. The fox stood still, an expectant smile on his face. "First of
all, where the heck did you learn that stuff? Y'know, the...the..."

"Acr'batics?" The fox asked, a humorous twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah!" Brutus said, amazed by what he'd just seen.

The fox sat down cross-legged on the grass of the field where he'd been
practicing his exercise drills. "My mum an'dad were acr'bats in a circus
until the Plague came along an' shut it all down. They took t' farmin' t' keep
theirselves fed an' all, but taught us kids a thing 'r two 'bout th'
life." He then rolled himself backward and brought himself to a one-armed
pawstand.

The Sheriff gaped wordlessly at the lad. Normally, members of his species
were very shy and retiring; almost to the point of reclusiveness; seeming to
prefer the least inhabited corners of Britain and often living in segregated communities
because of persecution by other animals, though the reasons for this had been
lost to time. The Sheriff himself held no such prejudices; figuring that so
long as one broke no laws and paid ones taxes, one had the right to be as
sociable or reclusive as one desired.

The fox held his pawstand for an incredibly long time, then lowered his
other one and did a standing pawspring to his feet.

As the fox gathered his clothes from a pile on a nearby rock, the Sheriff
said, "Well, I don't know of any circuses in these parts. In fact, I'm not
sure there're gonna be any more circuses at all if our new King has his
way."

The fox stopped dressing and turned to face the Sheriff, his expression now
serious. "Wot d'ya mean?" He said.

The Sheriff looked surprised. "You haven't heard?" He asked.

"‘eard wot?" The fox demanded. "You're th' first bloke I've
seen in these parts in days!" He explained.

Brutus shrugged. "King Jenner has decreed that all Fairs and Festivals
are cancelled as of a week ago. He said that all animals who didn't already
have a useful occupation needed to be at work in the fields growing their daily
bread."

Will Scarlet was astounded by this news. "Bu' wot 'bout havin' some
fun? Life's not worth livin' if y' can't have fun while you're livin' it, at
least that's wot my daddy use' t' tell me; 'e did!"

Brutus shifted his feet uncomfortably. When he'd helped to bring Jenner to
power by not interfering with the Prince Regent's plans to seize the throne and
his adopted brother's crown, he had not suspected that Jenner would favor
murder as his primary method. And when he'd received the order to arrest that
mother fox and her four adopted kids he'd had to drink himself into a near
stupor in order to gather the courage to do so. In fact; he still couldn't
remember much of what had happened that night, although his Deputies kept
jabbering behind his back about something involving a minstrel singer and a
mud-pit. But yesterday he'd found out that a Troop of the Kings Guard had
attacked and burned the house of that harmless old coot, Dr. Ages, the night
before. Unfortunately, that incident had occurred in the next Shire where he
had no jurisdiction; otherwise he'd have given the new King an earful on
respecting one's Ωconstituents. And just this morning, the daily courier
dispatch had delivered an edict that both Ages and that mother fox were now
wanted on charges of sedition and treason to the Crown. This had all just been
too much to comprehend. He'd told the Deputy-in-Charge that he would be out on a
short hike for the rest of the morning and not to expect him back until around
lunchtime. After walking aimlessly about for a while, he was headed back for
town when he saw a most amazing thing. A small gray fox was doing various flips
and pawsprings over rocks, logs and other obstacles. After watching silently
for several minutes, the lad noticed his audience of one and introduced
himself. He also noticed the quarterstaff that Brutus carried with him at all
times and proposed a game where he, Will Scarlet, would, using only his skill,
would try to touch any part of the Sheriff's body while the Sheriff tried to
knock Scarlet down with his 'staff. But, of course, the young fox had been much
too quick even for the Sheriff.

But now Brutus uneasily brought himself back to the present, not wanting to
face the fact that he had, however unwittingly or even unwillingly, been at
least partially responsible for the death of a good King and his Chancellor and
had helped to put a murderer on the Throne of Britain. He shrugged his massive
shoulders, not knowing what to tell this lad.

Will Scarlet finished dressing himself. He had decided that as a subject of
the Crown he would go to Londontown and seek an audience with his Sovereign and
explain to him that; while work was not a bad thing in and of itself, it was
certainly a bad thing by itself if not relieved by a bit of fun once in a
while.

Scarlet bade the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire farewell and made off for the
City, whistling a happy tune that his father had taught him long ago.

Brutus returned the wave and watched the lad leave with a sadness in his
heart. "Ah, to be that young and free of spirit." The bear thought to
himself. But, whether he liked it or not, he had sworn himself to the service
of an unstable Ruler and he had a feeling that he would probably end up paying
a dreadful price for this choice.

Chapter Fifteen

The past three days had been the most taxing that Justin had ever spent.
While Mrs. Brisbee, as she now preferred to be called, managed to help him tend
to both Dr. Ages and Jeremy's injuries even as she looked after her children;
he had spent most of the time either pulling the cart or giving aid to its
occupants. Ages was actually doing rather well. He had come down with a slight
fever during the second day of travel, but this had broken after he had been
given some of the ginger-pepper-willow tea that he favored. Jeremy, however,
was a different story altogether. Even wrapped in layer upon layer of sheets
and blankets in these warm mid-Summer days the badly burned rooster shivered
with his own fever, slipping in and out of consciousness or; worse yet; going
into shock accompanied by delirium; either screaming in unbearable pain or
giving way to fits of uncontrolled hysterical laughter, as if unaware of
hisimmediate surroundings or situation. He tried to rest the group at least one
hour out of every four, by his best estimate, but other than the occasional
short nap he'd been able to get no real sleep and, while his physical reserves
still seemed rather strong; his mind was beginning to rebel, reacting more
slowly and indecisively to this or that situation or flashing back to the
collapse of the wall that killed King Nicodemus and Sir Jonathan. In fact, the
only real respite had come early that morning when they had come to a small
creek and gotten a chance to drink and bathe in the cool, clear water; Mrs.
Brisbee finally getting a chance to drain and bandage Justin's own burns. She
had also helped him change Dr. Ages bandage and cast and bathe poor Jeremy,
who'd had to be carried like a small child because of the condition of his
feet.

But now, in the waning daylight of the late afternoon, Justin was feeling
more tired than he ever had in his life. Even now his mind seemed to be playing
a cruel joke; he could have sworn that he recognized the small group of trees
that stood at the divide of the road up ahead. He blinked twice and looked
again, focusing all of whatever was left of his will toward remembering a
certain landmark from his long-forgotten childhood.

"That's it." He whispered as the realization struck him so
suddenly that Mrs. Brisbee was nearly thrown into the pushbar when he stopped
dead.

"What're we stopping for?" Brisbee asked, a look of hollow-eyed
annoyance on her face. She had not gotten much sleep over these past days
either and the stress of caring for Justin, Jeremy, Ages and her own children
had taken a very visible toll on her.

Justin pointed to the group of trees and said, "That road, the one
going to the right, leads to my parent's cottage! If we don't make anymore
stops along the way, we can make it there by sometime after sundown!" The
children, who had said almost nothing since the fire, let out a collective
groan.

Ages, who had been asleep, exclaimed, "No, he's right! The cottage is
just a few miles away! We're already well inside Sherwood Forest!"

"Well I hope you two are right!" Mrs. Brisbee said coarsely,
picking up the pushbar and resuming the cart's slow progress. "I'm not
sure just how much longer the children and I can keep going!"

Justin smiled weakly. "Please, Marian," He implored her,
"Trust me. I grew up here. The forests of Sherwood have been my home for
as long as I can remember. Their trees are as familiar to me as the castle is
to you. The rivers run through my own veins as much as they run along their
banks."

A smile came to Mrs. Brisbee's own face for the first time in many days.
"Why, Justin!" She said coyly, "I didn't know that you had the
air of the poet about you!"

"I don't, really." He said, a faraway look in his eyes. "But
no matter how long I'm gone or how far away I am, I always feel that; somehow;
this place and I are meant to be one with each other." He then cupped one
paw under her chin, brought her eyes up to meet his and whispered, "Just as
you and Jonathan were."

Mrs. Brisbee tried to blink back the tear that had formed at the corner of
her eye, but it fell to the dusty road as she slowly nodded her understanding
of what Justin meant. The moment passed far more quickly than either of them
would have liked; after which, they bent to their shared task with a renewed
vigor.

Many hours later, to the accompaniment of a chorus of chirruping crickets
and croaking frogs, Justin opened the bolt of the heavy wooden door of a large
stone-and-wood cottage. He directed the children to a closet where he thought
some blankets might still be stored. He sent Mrs. Brisbee to the kitchen to
look for some candles or a lamp. He then carried both Jeremy and Dr. Ages to
his adoptive parents room and one of his adoptive brothers rooms, respectively.

The children did indeed find a number of old quilts; and by dim candlelight
Justin, crying tears of both joy and sadness as childhood memories surfaced
through the haze of his present exhaustion, recognized and identified by name
the adoptive brother, sister or cousin to whom each one had belonged those many
years ago. They were distributed among the group as Justin assigned beds to
each member, giving a brief but loving description of the member of the family
who had originally slept there.

At last all was quiet once again, the Brisbee family sharing a large
children's bedroom; for Justin had explained that there could be as many as
fifteen of his adoptive siblings and younger relatives sleeping in the room at
any one time; while Justin took his adoptive father's bed next to Jeremy, the
better to keep tabs on his unstable condition.