The Princess and the Hood: Reflections of the Wine Bottle

Little John and Midge

I was lying on the floor wrapped in my cloak, shivering even though it wasn't cold at all. Damp, sure, but not cold. My teeth chattered so hard that I bit my tongue at least twice. Oftentimes my breathing was shallow and hard to control. It was a real exercise taking deep breaths, and my throat was raw.

"Who in God's name are you?"

It wasn't the voices in my head this time. It was one of the guards upstairs.

"Pardon us, sir, but we're here for Longstride." said a calm reply.

Wait. Where did I know that voice?

"Robin Longstride is to be imprisoned for life. No exceptions." said the guard.

"We are not here to take him from you, sir. We have come to take his confession."

"What good will that do? After all that he's done?"

"It will do a world of good for him. The boy can rest in peace when his time comes. His soul can be saved if you would kindly let us through."

The man's voice sounded more and more familiar. Wait... It wasn't one. It was two!

"Hmmm. Very well, if you insist." the guard said with annoyance. "Bottommost cave. There's a big hole in the floor, so watch your step."

"Thank you, my son." said the holy man, whoever he was. Along with footsteps I could hear the repeating tap of wood against stone. They were both walking on canes, or maybe tall staffs.

"W-w-who's-who's there?" I croaked.

"Rob!" one of them whispered, sounding worried. "There he is."

"Dear Lord, he doesn't look good."

"We have to move him."

"How?"

The next thing I remember is a rope falling through the hole in the ceiling and landing right next to me. It ended in a rather large loop just big enough for my torso, not like a hangman's noose.

"Robin. It's John. Can you stand?"

Little John? What was he doing posing as a priest?

"John?" I coughed.

"Ugh, he sounds awful." said the second person sympathetically.

"Rob, can you hold the rope?" John coaxed.

I stared blankly at the loop of rope in front of me, teasing me, saying there was a chance of escape... "It's in the hearts and minds of the victors that all wars are won..."

I reached with shaking hands for the rope and grabbed it.

"That's it. Come on, Rob..."

I dragged myself over the filthy floor, pulling my head and both arms in, holding on tightly.

"Help me." I said hoarsely.

"He's in. Pull, now. Quickly."

Then the two men started pulling. I felt myself lifted off the ground as the loop of rope hugged my armpits and I held onto it with what little strength I had left.

"Come on, you're doing great."

"HEY! WHAT'RE YOU DOING?" That had to be one of the guards. Still they kept pulling.

"Soon as he's out of there, hold onto him and stay behind me." said John before he stood up to face the guards.

"Yes, sir." said his friend, continuing to pull the rope.

"STOP! STOP WHAT YOU'RE—!"

"I claim benefit of clergy for this young man." John said confidently. "He has repented his sins and personally asked to take the cloth. He cannot be imprisoned here any longer."

"Bollocks," said one of the guards. "Even I know only the Bishop can allow this, for him to become a novice. You two aren't priests, or even friars!"

John's shoulders sagged. "Well, it was worth a try."

CLANG! The guard's helmet hit the wall hard. At least I think it did. My focus was very hazy and I was exhausted in too many ways.

"Come on, boy, we gotta move!" John ordered, supporting me by holding an arm over his shoulders. Finally, I was out!

"Did we lose 'em?"

"I think so." John nodded, peering out through the bushes as the black horses galloped past us. We sat stock-still, covered by a grey-and-brown sheet that blended in with the ground. Maybe not as much up close, but it would hardly be noticeable to someone riding full speed on a stallion.

We waited for several long minutes. I was still in pain and exhausted. Suddenly curious (noticing that I wasn't before), I looked over at the younger one nearby. He had sandy-brown hair and peach fuzz, still quite a ways from adulthood.

"Who are you?" I asked him.

"Name's Midge." the teenager said.

"Midge..." I repeated, sounding slurry. "The Millers' boy?"

"Aye. I saw you being dragged off and ran into John here. Made me promise in blood to keep this a secret." He held out his bandaged palm to prove it.

"And I'm holding you to it, boy."

"Clear as crystal." Midge replied.

I reached over to John and patted him on the shoulder.

"Thank you, John," I yawned.

Then I passed out and didn't wake up for another two days.