Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Gundam Wing and the Men of Sherwood Forest ❯ The Nottingham Midsummer Festival ( Chapter 9 )

I've snuck off from making Thanksgiving dinner to post chapters. Tee-hee-hee!

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Chapter 9: The Nottingham Midsummer Festival

“What do you think?” Treize displayed the scroll of parchment beautifully illustrated with his family crest. “Here is Heero's name, showing he is a direct descendent of my great-grandfather.” He smiled sweetly. “I don't think it should matter that none of the people listed here have been born yet.”

“Including Heero,” Duo chuckled.

“That is a magnificent work of art, Lord Treize!” Robin exclaimed.

“Thank you.”

“It certainly looks good enough to fool the Registrar of the Games,” said Tuck.

“Good,” Heero grunted. “But I still need to acquire a horse before the contest.”

“Let me take care of that, Sir Heero,” Will Scarlett volunteered. “I know good horseflesh and Alan is familiar with the kind of horse a knight would need. We'll find something appropriate for you.”

“Thanks. Duo, give them some money.”

“What?”

“I don't have any and you do. I know you'll get more at the Festival, so cough it up.”

“Fine!” Duo dug into his pouch and produced half a dozen gold coins. “No horse alive is worth more than this.”

Will's eyes lit up. “True, but we'll need gear as well.” He pocketed the coins.

“You're gonna spend all my change on ale,” Duo grumbled.

“Like you wouldn't,” Heero snorted.

Duo waved a hand in resignation. “Have a drink or two on me, then. Stay the night in town and sleep on a down bed.”

Alan blushed and Will smiled.

“Master Duo,” Will said with an extravagant bow, “I can assure you that we will first and foremost fulfill our duty to Sir Heero. Should there be, by some happy circumstance, a little coin left over upon the completion of our effort in his behalf, we shall be most happy to accept your generous offer and perhaps enjoy a simple meal and a quiet night at a small inn.” He picked up his plumed hat and swept it onto his head with a flourish. “Come Alan! Let's be off.”

Alan and Will departed at once.

“When should we return to town, Treize?” Zechs asked. “I want to get there in time to place a few bets on Heero. With Duo's money, of course.” He smiled.

“Wait just a darn minute!”

“No, that makes sense, Duo,” Wu-Fei said. “You can hardly place all the bets yourself. It will draw attention. Treize and Zechs, being noblemen, can place larger bets and each of the Merry Men can place smaller ones. We can spread the bets around with several bookies, too, so no one figures out how much money we're laying out.”

“But I do not understand the need to place so many bets,” Robin said. “Are we not planning to win all the prizes?”

“Sure we are,” said Wu-Fei. “The winnings from the bets can replace the tithe money we stole.”

Robin and Little John exchanged a puzzled look. “But why would we do that?” said Little John. “We took that money to help the poor.”

“And so you have. But if Robin turns up with enough money to buy back his estate so soon after the tithes were stolen, a crime of which the Sheriff already suspects him, he may be arrested. But if the tithes are returned first and then Robin redeems his debt, he can't be blamed. His name will be cleared, he'll be reinstated and he can marry the lovely Maid Marian.”

Robin's eyes grew bright with happy tears. “You have thought of every detail. I am… I am…” He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

Duo pouted. “At this rate, I'll have nothing left.”

“Oh, hardly!” Wu-Fei exclaimed. “No one is planning to touch your dice and card winnings.” He leaned closer and whispered loudly. “You don't want me to mention how much stuff Roku is holding for you, do you?”

“Uh, no!” Duo said quickly.

Quatre lifted an eyebrow at him.

“It's just a few small items.”

“Indeed?”

“Really!”

“Maybe I'll ask Roku.”

“There's no need to do that!”

“Right.” Quatre favored Duo with a long look. “Why don't you turn over what coin you have to Wu-Fei so he can start dividing it up?”

Duo smiled a sickly smile. “Sure! That sounds like a great idea!”

“He's so not liking this,” Trowa murmured.

“I'll say,” Zechs agreed. “But it is for a good cause. Wasn't Duo the one determined to get Robin laid? And to do that, he needs to make sure Robin gets married.”

“Quite true. He'll remember that in a little while, once the pain of giving away money wears off.”

Everyone was rather astonished to discover just how much money Duo had.

“I didn't acquire it all in Nottingham,” Duo grumbled. “Some of it's from before.”

“Like my resource satellite employees?” Quatre said pointedly.

“Maybe.”

“Papa Duo's pouting again.”

“Why don't you take him that nice roast pheasant Friar Tuck just took off the fire?” said Trowa. “I'm sure that will cheer him up.”

“Ok.”

Once Wu-Fei finished counting out all the coin, he divided it up, giving large portions to Treize and Zechs and the rest to the Merry Men to divide among themselves.

“Remember,” Wu-Fei admonished them all, “this money is for placing bets on Sir Heero. Don't all of you use the same bookie and bet on different events. If we exceed the amount of the tithes, the difference can be kept as profits.”

“Hey!”

“Be generous, Duo. The Merry Men are taking the risk.”

“Fine!”

“It's probably a good thing none of us can read his mind,” Treize murmured to Zechs. He hefted his pouch with Duo's gold inside. “We should head for town. A lot of people are likely to show up for this and I want to get a nice room at the castle.”

“You don't think Lady Margaret would reserve her finest for us?”

Treize smiled. “After you made her faint by extolling the comfortable virtues of her guest beds, I suspect she will.” Treize spoke to the others. “Zechs and I are going back to Nottingham Castle. We'll see you after the Midsummer Festival.”

“Have a care, Lord Treize,” Friar Tuck said. “I have heard that Mayor DeBoers invited Prince John to the Festival and rumor has it that he will attend.”

“Thanks for the warning, Tuck. I'll keep that in mind.”

Treize and Zechs strolled out of the clearing.

“Prince John?” Wu-Fei frowned. “Isn't he currently the ruler of England?”

“Only by default,” Friar Tuck said. “He sits on the throne because King Richard is off fighting the Crusades.”

“While his kingdom falls to ruin,” Little John added angrily. “He should be tending to his own shores.”

“Very true,” Tuck agreed.

“Well, no matter!” Robin said lightly. “The Festival starts tomorrow with the common entertainments: wrestling, foot races, boxing and a lot of feasting. The day after begins the knight's tournaments. I think the melee is first.”

“It is,” said Tuck. “That's in the morning and the single combats are in the afternoon, followed by two days of jousting. The archery contest is in the afternoon after the joust finishes on the second day.”

“Is the archery contest the last event in the Festival?” Quatre asked.

“Yes. It is always followed by a large feast at the Castle for the nobility. Ordinary citizens are treated to a feast on the common.”

“Sounds good!” Duo rubbed his hands together. “Four days of gambling with people who are overfed and drunk. This could be good.”

“Do you feel better now, Papa Duo?”

“I may recover.” His eyes sparkled. “But I may need a lot of sympathy from Heero first.”

“Sympathy?” Heero muttered. “There's a new word for it.”

Duo rolled his eyes at Wu-Fei. “Maybe a sympathy sandwich.”

Wu-Fei covered his eyes and groaned.

“In the meantime,” Quatre interrupted pointedly, “how do you plan on returning the tithes, Wu-Fei?”

“Indeed, our most honest citizen is Friar Tuck, but his association with the lawless element is too well known,” Robin said.

Wu-Fei shrugged. “Treize can do it. As a gentleman and an outsider, he can say he was asked to serve as an intermediary.”

Quatre pursed his lips. “That might work.”

“Well then,” said Little John, “there is nothing else but to await the return of Will and Alan with Sir Heero's horse and then it's to town for all of us.”

“Except for Robin,” Friar Tuck said. “If he is recognized, Sheriff Mark will likely arrest him.”

“Alas!” cried Robin. “Will I not be able to call upon the beautiful Maid Marian? It has been so many days since my eyes last beheld her sweet countenance.”

“You especially can't go see Marian,” Trowa said firmly. “The Sheriff has his own designs on her and he's around her all the time. It is far too likely that he would see you.”

“Oh alas!” Robin cried again and he sank to the ground with a loud sigh.

“I will stay and keep Robin company,” Tuck said quietly, “and also make sure he remains in Sherwood. “I'll have one or two of the lads stay as well. With the Festival lasting so many days, everyone will have a turn in town.”

“A good idea, Tuck,” Little John agreed. “I will come back myself once or twice.”

“Very good.”

With all the arrangements made, everyone went about their business except for Robin, who remained seated mournfully on the ground. Roku approached him and put a paw on his knee.

“Don't feel bad, Mr. Robin. My mama and papas will make sure you get to marry Lady Marian.”

Robin managed a sad smile. “I know and I appreciate their efforts. It just seems such a far off future right now.”

Roku curled against Robin's side, put his chin on Robin's thigh and began to purr. Robin petted him on the head and after a while he began to smile more cheerfully.

Little John nodded toward the scene. “Your youngster seems to know how to lend the proper kind of comfort,” he said to Quatre.

“Roku understands people very well, Little John.”

“He's a good lad.”

Will and Alan returned very early the next morning leading a big, raw-boned gelding.

“He's not the most attractive beast, I'll grant you,” Will said, “but with that deep chest and thick hindquarters, you'll get good acceleration at the start.”

Heero walked around the animal, looking it over. Then he stopped right in front of the horse's nose, caught it by the bridle and turned its head a little to one side so he could look directly into one of its large brown eyes. “Let's have an understanding,” he said. “You're the horse; I'm the rider. I'm in charge. You do what I say without any nonsense and we'll get along just great. If not, we may have to have a discussion.”

“Heero's discussions tend to be very painful for the other party,” Duo remarked quietly to some of the Merry Men.

The horse blinked at Heero. Then it bobbed its head up and down and huffed through its nose.

“Can you speak to animals, Sir Heero?” Robin asked in surprise. “It would seem the beast answered you.”

“No, that's Trowa. I just know how to reach an understanding with horses.” Heero tugged on the horse's forelock. “So about this gear…” he began to Will.

Heero, Will and Alan huddled around the horse, looking over the saddle and bridle. After a short conversation, Heero declared the purchase adequate, so everyone who was going to town for the start of the Festival prepared to depart.

Robin watched with a wistful gaze. “If any of you have the opportunity to speak to my Lady Marian, will you please convey my undying affection?”

“We will.”

By midmorning, the party was underway and they stood at the gates of Nottingham an hour before noon. The guards to either side of the wide-open gates stood at attention, their uniforms surprisingly clean. They waved the crowds through without much scrutiny.

“No doubt they are under orders to let in as many people as possible. Mayor DeBoers wants a successful and profitable fair, I'm sure,” said Little John.

Heero rode in full armor at the head of the group with his helmet under his arm, preceded by Roku carrying a painted banner with Treize's crest on it. Heero drew excited stares and caused eager conversation up and down the streets.

“Who is he, do you suppose?”

“I have no idea. I don't know that crest.”

“He certainly is handsome!”

“He looks so young!”

“He seems too slight to make much of a showing.”

“Which contests do you suppose he'll enter?”

People crowded into the streets to follow Heero to the Registrar of the Games. The Merry Men used that opportunity to melt away into the crowd, leaving only the Gundam pilots and Roku to escort Heero.

The Registrar was seated at a table in the common, a few dozen paces from the castle gates. A rickety canopy provided some shade from the bright midday sun. The Registrar had the officious manner of the typical bureaucrat. He eyed the approaching party with faint disapproval, but the clerks seated to either side of him stared with excitement in their eyes.

“I am Lord Clark,” the Registrar said with a disdainful sniff. “I will need to see the gentleman's papers.” He held out a soft-looking hand.

Trowa stepped forward and bowed slightly. “Allow me the honor of introducing Sir Heero of Luxembourg, a knight of the very finest quality and breeding who seeks to amuse himself in these local games.”

“Amuse himself?!” Lord Clark exclaimed huffily. “The Nottingham Midsummer Festival presents the finest jousting event in the kingdom!”

“I have no doubt.” Trowa made his agreement sound vaguely insulting.

Lord Clark puffed up even more. “His papers, if you please!”

Trowa presented Heero's fake papers, unrolling the parchment onto the table. Lord Clark looked it over carefully, obviously trying to find fault with it, but could not. He sniffed.

“These papers seem to be in order. What contests does Sir Heero wish to enter?”

“The melee, the single combat and the joust.”

“All three?” Lord Clark was clearly surprised.

“As I said, Sir Heero seeks to amuse himself.”

“Very well.” Lord Clark entered Heero's name carefully into the roles while the clerks on either side of him added his name to the lists for each of the contests.

“The melee is tomorrow morning. Combatants must be prepared to enter the ring at three hours past dawn precisely.”

Trowa inclined his head and they moved away.

“We should find an inn,” Quatre said. “Something appropriate for a knight.”

“I know a good place,” Duo said. “Follow me.”

“Do you think it was wise to antagonize the Registrar like that, Trowa?” Wu-Fei said. “He's bound to speak ill of Heero around court.”

Trowa nodded. “I'm sure he will. That's just what we want. People are sure to bet against him now and increase the odds. Remember how eager everyone was at Camelot to see Heero trounce the French knights? The odds on Galvoisin were very long because no one wanted him to win.”

“Not bad. Maybe we'll come out enough ahead on this thing for the Merry Men to pocket a little coin after all.”

In Nottingham Castle, Treize and Zechs were being introduced to Prince John, who had arrived late the previous evening.

“Lady Margaret tells me you are visiting from Europe, Lord Treize,” Prince John said in a smooth cultured voice. Prince John was very tall, but quite thin. He was clearly accustomed to being taller than all those around him and seemed faintly put out that he had to look Treize directly in the eye. His dishwater blond hair was also rather thin and lay limply on his narrow head, in noticeable contrast to Treize's thick brown curls and Zechs' long silver mane.

“That is so, Your Highness,” Treize said. “And may I say that Lady Margaret's hospitality is easily the equal of any fine home where we have stayed in Europe.” He beamed at Lady Margaret and she blushed prettily.

“Oh, Lord Treize,” Lady Margaret giggled. “You do me too much honor!”

“Speaking the truth to a lady of such exquisite charm is never too much,” Zechs said with a charming smile.

Lady Margaret turned pinker and giggled again.

“Indeed,” Prince John said faintly. He looked momentarily nonplussed as he stared at Zechs. He drew in a deep breath. “I assume you gentlemen are here for the Midsummer Festival?”

“Yes,” said Treize. “I hear this Festival is one of the finest in England. I look forward to the tournaments.”

A page hurried in and whispered something to Mayor DeBoers. The mayor fixed his eyes on Treize.

“My lord Treize, I have just heard that a gentleman from your homeland has registered for the tournament. A young knight called Sir Heero. Do you know him?”

Treize chuckled warmly. “Oh, that would be my cousin's son. Too bad he's here, for now I shall have to bet on him or my cousin will never let me hear the end of it. He's a proper knight, but a bit reckless, or so I'm told.”

“But would he have much chance against our local knights, my lord?” Lady Margaret asked worriedly. “I should feel terrible if someone of your kin came to harm.”

Treize clasped her hand and brought it to his lips for a lingering kiss, earning an angry stare from the lady's husband. “My lady, do not trouble yourself. My young cousin takes his risks the same as any knight. I'm sure he'll be fine.” He tucked her hand into the fold of his arm and returned his gaze to Prince John. “But tell me, Your Highness, whom do you favor? Perhaps we can set a friendly wager against each other to make the contests more exciting.”

Prince John smoothed his hair. “I normally do not make wagers, Lord Treize.”

“Oh indeed? That is too bad. I thought a small, insignificant wager of, say, twenty gold crowns on my cousin's head against your chosen champion might be amusing.”

There were exclamations of shock all around at the ridiculous amount that Treize regarded as small. Prince John went pale.

“Twenty crowns, you say?” Prince John licked his lips and looked around. People were watching him curiously. It would hardly due for a prince to balk at such a sum. He drew himself up. “I suppose that might be amusing.”

“I should think so,” Treize agreed. “Of course, my untried cousin against your no doubt seasoned champion calls for some kind of odds in my favor. Does four-to-one sound reasonable to you?”

“Four-to-one?” Prince John rasped.

“My cousin is very slight of build.”

“You should take the bet, Your Highness,” Sheriff Mark interrupted with a growl. “Guy of Gisbourne has never been defeated in a tournament. He will happily bear your honor into combat.”

Prince John smoothed his hair again and produced a weak smile. “I am familiar with Sir Guy. He is a most formidable opponent.”

“We are also acquainted with Sir Guy,” Zechs said. He smiled sweetly. “Being familiar with my dear brother-in-law's young cousin, and having seen Sir Guy's sturdy bulk, I think he would be insulted by such low odds. I think six-to-one might be more reflective of his superior experience in the field.”

“Six-to-one?!” Prince John exclaimed hoarsely.

“Sir Guy is undefeated,” Zechs reminded him.

“Ah… yes… well…” Prince John looked around again. Dozens of expectant eyes were fixed on him. “Why not?” he said with forced lightness. He squeezed a grin onto his thin lips. “This should be fun.” He did not really sound like he thought it would be fun.

Zechs swept the assembled nobles with his most stunning smile. “Of course, we would not be proper gentlemen if we did not allow others to participate in this amusing little wager. Does anyone else care to try the odds? My Lord Treize and I will be happy to cover you,” he purred.

Several rather dazed looking gentlemen immediately waved their hands and offered themselves up, although there was some question about whether all of them were offering money or were a few offering some other kind of payment.

Bright and early the next morning, the stands around the arena where the melee and the single combats would be held began to fill up. Three quarters of the seats were available for the common people. The other quarter were reserved for the nobility and therefore boasted cushions and canopies. Treize and Zechs were among the first nobles to arrive. They found the Gundam pilots, except for Duo and Roku, in the staging area with Heero.

“We've placed some rather significant bets on you, Heero,” Treize said. “But it would look better if you didn't win too quickly. Can you at least make it look challenging?”

Heero shrugged. “I suppose, if any of these men can fight. But it's hard not to lop things off accidentally when they're clumsy.”

“Try your best.”

Duo and Roku appeared, both of them munching on pieces of roasted meat stuck on sticks.

“Gisbourne's not competing in the melee,” Duo reported. “Apparently, he thinks it's beneath him.”

“Too bad,” Heero grumbled.

“He's signed up for the single combat, though. You guys are in different tiers, so if you both make it all the way, you'll meet in the final round.”

“What do you mean `if'?”

Duo grinned. “Meat stick?”

“No thanks.”

“Good luck.”

“Who needs luck when you're just better?” Zechs said.

“Damn right!”

“Let's go get seats.”

Treize and Zechs took seats among the nobility and the others sat nearby with the commoners.

“This is so exciting!” Roku said.

“It sure is,” Trowa agreed. “I have to say, I'm looking forward to seeing Heero fight again.”

“Me, too,” Quatre agreed.

An announcer stepped into the arena and waved his hands for silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, good people assembled, lend an ear! Today begins the first of the knightly contests of valor: the Melee!” He paused to let the crowd cheer. “Eighteen proud gentlemen, the very flower of knighthood, will contest on these grounds. The last man standing will be the victor. Each knight may use his preferred weapon.” The announcer bowed to Prince John and Mayor DeBoers. “By your leave, may the games begin!”

He dashed out of the arena and the knights began filing in. They formed three rows of six and faced Prince John.

Prince John leaned toward Treize and called, “Lord Treize, enlighten me. Which gentleman is your cousin?”

Treize pointed at Heero. “He is that slender youth at the left end of the second row, Your Highness.”

Prince John's eyebrows rose and he smiled broadly. “He is indeed quite a slender youth. Beside these other knights, he looks no more than a boy.”

Treize smiled. “He is young, I warrant, but his arm is strong enough.”

“Well, then,” said Prince John. He lifted his hand, from which a handkerchief fluttered, and the knights all bowed to him. Then they turned to face each other, some drawing swords, a few hefting axes, and one or two loosening out the chain on a mace. Prince John dropped the hankie and the announcer, who had climbed to a vantage point above the arena entrance shouted, “Begin!”

The knights clashed with a crash of iron on iron.

“Oops!” Trowa said.

“That's not Heero's fault,” Duo said. “That guy shouldn't have been trying to use a mace. His technique is all wrong.”

“Yeah,” agreed Quatre. “And if they cauterize his stump quickly, he shouldn't bleed to death.”

“Oops!” Trowa said again.

“That wasn't Heero's fault either,” Wu-Fei said quickly. “That knight stepped into the path of his sword.”

“Are those his intestines poking out through his armor?”

“Could be.”

“Oops!”

“Ok, that one was Heero's fault.”

“We should have reminded him to not use his overhand stroke. That guy looks kind of dead.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey look! That one's running away.”

“I guess he doesn't want to win.”

“Maybe he just wants to keep his brains in his head.”

“Possibly.”

“Oops!”

“Not again.”

“I think the helmet deflected the blow. Oh. Maybe not.”

“That doesn't look good.”

“They say brain injuries don't really hurt.”

“But I bet that cracked skull stings like a son-of-a-bitch.”

“Oops!”

“Maybe the rest of them should run away.”

“No, I think Heero's getting the hang of it. That guy's arm just looks broken.”

“In two places.”

“But he's not bleeding!”

“Much.”

“Cut Heero some slack. He hasn't done this for a while.”

“Good point.”

“I hope not too many of these guys were signed up for the single combat or that tournament will be pretty short.”

“Yeah.”

“I think it's over. There's just that one guy and the way he's trying to climb the wall implies he's done.”

“I figured that out back when he dropped his sword and started screaming like a girl.”

Amid loud cheering, Heero turned to bow to Prince John before leaving the arena. Prince John's mouth was hanging open.

On seeing this, Treize called out. “Don't let this event mislead you, Prince John. You know it's mostly the lesser knights who sign up for the melee. Any half-way decent knight could make a good showing.”

Prince John nodded mutely, but he did not look convinced.

Treize stood up. “Shall we adjourn for a nice luncheon, my dear Count?” he said to Zechs, his eyes sparkling. “Such a manly display always gives me something of an appetite.”

Zechs stood up also. “I am completely at your disposal, my lord Treize, for I hunger as well.” The seductiveness of his tone caused several nearby ladies to grow pale and fan themselves.

Duo stood up. “I'm going to see if I can stir up a dice game somewhere. I'll meet you back here for the single combat.”

“Mama, may I go with Papa Duo?”

“All right, but stay out of trouble.”

“I will.”

“Let's go find Heero,” said Trowa. “He may need help getting ready for the single combat.”

“Assuming anyone is still willing to compete once they realize he's entered.”

“True, but if everyone forfeits, he still gets the prize.”

“But that makes for a boring afternoon.”

“We should collect our winnings for the bets on the melee before anyone starts suspecting a setup,” Wu-Fei said. “I'll go let the Merry Men know.” He strolled off.

Trowa lifted an eyebrow at Quatre. “After we check on Heero, there's probably time to step back to the inn for an hour or so.”

“Trowa Barton, are you having lustful thoughts?”

Trowa put his arm around Quatre's waist. “Let's go somewhere private and I'll show you.”