Mojitos with Merry Men (10 page)

We make our way to the village on foot—there aren't enough horses to go around, and everyone wants to see the villagers' faces when they're presented their newfound riches. It's a long walk—like the length of Central Park—and I'm soon wishing I'd been more vocal about which village we picked as the recipient of our generosity. Like, sure they love their families, but I love my feet.

Just as I'm ready to beg for a few minutes of downtime, we step into a clearing, which strikes me as very familiar. Then it hits me. The river where I bested Robin in the log fight is near here.

Ooh, I can go retrieve my camera bag!

"I, um, have to go to the bathroom—er, relieve myself," I say, gesturing into the woods.

Robin nods. "Very well, Christian."

"You guys can go off ahead. I'll catch up."

Keeping an eye on which way they head, I run over to the shore, walk nimbly across the log, and locate my bag. I look around for my gown that I also left nearby but don't see it. Maybe it got dragged away by an animal. Thank goodness they didn't take the bag as well. I check its contents. Camera, check. Credit cards, check. Vial to fill up with blood from the Holy Grail, check. I stuff the camera bag down the tunic shirt they gave me to wear and hope they don't notice the bulge. The last thing I need is to be forced to explain the inner workings of a Nikon digital camera to a bunch of medieval Britons. I do, however, want to try to secretly take some pictures in case I ever get out of here.

Beep! Beep!

Yikes! My chest starts beeping the second I start back over the log. I run back the other direction, reaching down my shirt, into my bag, and pull out my cell phone.

I have a message?

How did I get a message? There's no way a cell phone would work back in medieval times. No cell towers. And I know I didn't have a message before I left. I checked, looking to see if Kat had called me. Not to mention, the phone's been sitting in the woods for three days. Surely that's drained the battery.

I'm about to check voice mail, but before I can, my phone erupts into song, and I almost drop it. I hope the Merry Men took my advice and kept moving, 'cause the Arcade Fire tune is going to be hard to explain.

I stare at the phone as it chirps away. How the hell is it ringing? Impossible, yet…

"Hello?" I ask, clicking the Send button and putting the receiver to my ear. After all, impossible or not, this could be an important call, right?

"Chrissie? Is that you?" The voice on the other end is static-distorted but most definitely recognizable.

"Kat?" I cry, for once overjoyed to hear my coworker's nasal Brooklyn accent.

"Chrissie, thank God! I've been calling you forever. Where have you been? What did Nimue say? Is she going to get me back from the future?"

"Well, that's kind of a funny—"

"'Cause we totally need to get back, ASAP. Guenevere's in an awful scandal here, and I just think we've worn out our welcome."

"Actually Nimue sent me—"

"Not to mention I've been gone so long. I'm worried about my dog. Gucci's been locked up in the house for almost a year now. What if the SPCA shows up and takes her away? I couldn't bear life without Gucci."

I grip the phone tightly. "Kat," I say, forcing my voice to be calm. "If you will just shut up for one second, I'll tell you everything."

The other end of the phone thankfully goes quiet.

"I did go talk to Nimue. She said she needed a special ingredient to bring you back in time. Blood from
the Holy Grail, to be precise."

"The what? Isn't that a Monty Python movie or something? No, wait! Indiana Jones. Now I remember."

I can't believe anyone can be this stupid. "No, idiot. I mean, yes, those movies featured it, but, well, the Holy Grail was the chalice that Jesus drank from during the Last Supper."

"Oh, wait. This is ringing a bell now. Isn't the chalice really the body of Mary Magdalene or something?"

"Well, if you believe that Da Vinci Code book, but—"

"Yeah, that's the one. But I thought it was a movie…"

"Kat!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"Anyway, supposedly the Holy Grail was brought back after the Crusades by King Richard—"

"King Richard knew Mary Magdalene, too? How was she even still alive?"

"It's a
cup,
Kat," I say through gritted teeth. "Dan Brown was wrong."

"Who's Dan Brown? I thought that was a Tom Hanks movie."

"Oh my God, Kat. If you don't be quiet, I'll leave you there in the future forever."

"Uh, please don't do that. I mean, sure there are some cool things about the future. They have these coffeemakers that instantly make you the perfect cappuccino. No waiting in line at Starbucks anymore. But the fashions—ugh! Can you believe big hair is back in style? And everything is made of silver lamé?"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Wait! Please don't. I'm sorry. I don't mean to babble. It's just so nice to talk to someone from my century."

She has a point. As annoying and vapid as she is, like it or not, we're in this together.

"Fine. But please listen to me. In order to get back from the future, Nimue needs the Holy Grail. So she sent me back in time to recover it."

"You're back in time, too?" Kat squeals so loudly I think my eardrums will burst. "Oh my God! How crazy is that? Now you believe me, right? She sent
me
back in time to the days of King Arthur. I met this totally hot knight, Lancelot, who's now my boyfriend. He and Queen Guenevere are here in the future with me now."

"Uh, right. Yeah. Cool. But remember the no-babbling rule? I don't have a lot of time. I have to go catch up with the men."

"Sorry. Go on."

"So I'm back in 12th-century England, but the problem is, there is no Grail. King Richard hasn't come back from the Crusades yet, and no one knows when he's expected back. For all I know, I could have to wait around for years."

"Ooh, that blows," Kat says. "I had to hang at Camelot for like nine months, so I totally know what you're going through. What are you doing while you're waiting? Have you learned to ride a horse yet?"

"You won't believe it, but I'm actually hanging out with Robin Hood."

"Robin Hood?" Kat sounds impressed. I guess even she has heard of the legendary outlaw. "Does he look as sexy as Carey Elwes did in that
Men in Tights
movie?"

"He's pretty good-looking, yeah," I say, trying to sound nonchalant, while my face heats in a blush. Thank goodness we aren't FaceTime-ing.

"Too bad you're married. You could totally hook up with the guy while you were waiting for the Grail. Rock your medieval socks."

"Actually…" I pause. Do I really want to tell her I'm not happily married anymore? I haven't even told my own mother yet. Not that she will stay sober long enough to care. "Actually, he thinks I'm a boy." Better to go the less painful follow-up questions route.

"A boy? How can he think you're a boy? I mean, sure you've never been exactly stacked but still!"

Sigh. "Thanks, Kat," I mutter. "Anyway, he thinks I'm a eunuch. Like a choirboy. Sort of gender neutral, if you know what I mean."

"Ew. And he thinks you're that? How come? Why not tell him the truth?"

"Because he doesn't allow women in his camp. No exceptions. And I have no place else to go while waiting for King Richard. The villagers are all starving, and I don't dare go meet up with the evil Prince John in
the palace."

"Ah. Good plan then. Though not great in the potential hookup department."

"I'm not here to get laid, Kat. I'm here to rescue you, remember?"

"I know. But there's no reason not to have some fun in the process. I had a blast back in Camelot. Even though I did get kidnapped a bunch. But then Lancey rescued me. My hero. A genuine knight in shining armor—with actual armor! I totally want you to meet him. I hope it all works out. Maybe you and me and Lance and Danny could all go out for drinks one night when we're back. Someplace quiet. Maybe in the West Village? I don't think Lance is ready for Times Square just yet. Though you should see the guy on a computer. He's totally addicted to the new
World of Warcraft
expansion
.
Can you believe they're still making that game?"

She keeps babbling on, but I almost don't mind. It's refreshing to talk to someone who knows who I really am, where I really belong, and what gender I was born into. Even if she is an airhead, she's the only friend I've got in this place. The only one who would believe I'm really here.

"Anyway, Chris, I've got to go. They're going to kill me when they get their phone bill. I'll call you later if I get a chance to see where you stand."

"Okay," I say, actually feeling a little sad to let her go. "I understand."

"Oh and Chrissie?"

"Yeah?"

"Try to have some fun while you're there. You only go back in time once. I think, anyway. Make the most of it."

"Okay. Thanks, Kat."

"Cool. Adios. I'm ghost." And with that, the line goes dead.

I let out a sigh and stuff the phone back in my bag. Have fun indeed. Easy for her to say. She went back in time and got to hang out in a castle—with knights and ladies and probably court jesters. I, on the other hand, am stuck in the middle of the filthy woods with a group of ragged outlaws and their mopey leader, who has a thing against girls. She got to wear fine medieval dresses and make love to a legendary knight in shining armor. I have to pretend I'm some dude, or I'll be kicked out of camp.
So, sure, Kat, it's easy for you to say "have fun."
Reality is much bleaker on this side of the cell phone.

It's not surprising, really. People like Kat always end up going through life with no problems at all. They don't have husbands who cheat on them with coffeehouse waitresses. They flit around from one social event to the next, their biggest worry being whether their shoes will match their camisole tops. They don't worry whether they will be able to make the rent next month on their studio apartment that was always too small for two people but too expensive for one. They don't bounce checks or have creditors calling them.

Maybe it's better that I'm back in time with the other downtrodden. I'd feel sick living it up in the castle knowing others were starving down in the villages. These are my people. The ones without hope.

I rush down the path to catch up with the men. I come to a small village surrounded by a stone wall, and from the excited cries coming from inside, I realize I must have the right place.

I walk down the narrow dirt streets until I come to a small town square. It must be market day—little wooden stands flank the sides of the road with pitiful offerings of moldy bread and cracked eggs. Slabs of meat give off a slightly rotten scent. There are woven baskets and crude knives.

But no one's shopping. The whole crowd of dirty peasants has gathered around Robin and his men.

"Long enough have you been persecuted and taxed to the point of starvation by the evil man who dares rule in his brother's place," Robin is saying. "But keep your faith, good people. Soon our blessed King Richard, rightful lord of England, shall return, cast the usurper from his throne, and restore the riches of our great land to the people who toil on it."

Cheers erupt from the crowd. Not surprisingly, Prince John doesn't seem to have a large fan base.

"But until that day comes, your children must eat. They must grow to be strong men and women who can fight for their country. Therefore, we have brought you some silver to buy seed for your farms, bread and milk for the mouths of your babes." He lifts up the bag of silver and waves it in the air. All the peasants' eyes light up like someone flipped a switch.

"Silver?" one old hunchbacked man breathes.

"For us?" asks a small blond boy in the front, his big blue eyes wide with amazement.

"Where did ye get it?" asks a suspicious middle-aged brunette.

"We took it from a man who had much to spare," Robin says with a grin. "And are giving it to you who have so little. I think 'tis a fair trade, do you not?"

Judging from the general whoops of cheer, I'd say they're pretty much down with the concept. Robin appoints one villager as a treasurer and gives him the silver to dole out to each peasant.

"Now we must take our leave," he says, removing his hat and bowing with a flourish.

"Stay for dinner!" begs a pretty maiden in the front, batting her eyelashes at our hero. Robin is
so
a rock star here. "I'm told I make a very lovely stew."

"Aye," agrees a man in the back, leaning on a crooked cane. "We want to thank you for all you've done."

Robin shakes his head, "'Tis not necessary," he says. "We must take our leave. I am afraid soon there may be those who will come looking for us. And I like keeping my head on my neck, thank you very much."

The crowd giggles at this.

"Farewell, brave and noble sirs," says the man who Robin appointed treasurer. "We will not forget this day, nor the men who made it so glorious."

Robin can't help but smile. I can tell—he's digging the hero stuff in spite of himself.

That night, there's a big celebration at Camp Sherwood. More venison (the king is going to run out of deer the way the outlaws go through it!), more beer, and more songs.

I'm very happy that the whole thing worked out, but I can't shake the sadness I felt earlier. I feel so alone here, and the longer I stay, the more it weighs on me. Everyone's been nice and accepting and all, but I just don't fit in.

I slip away from the festivities and head down to the pond. I sit on the shore, staring out into the water. Why am I here? Sure, I guess I have a mission: to retrieve the Holy Grail. But then what? How will I get back to the 21st century? And if I do, what then? Go back to my pathetic life? My stupid, dead-end, low-paying job? My cheating husband?

And what was it Nimue said about me finding love here? She called me the gentle soul that would tame an outlaw's thirst for revenge or something. Obviously she must have been talking about Robin Hood. But do I really want to go there? Reveal my feminine side and start a relationship with a guy who lived and died hundreds of years before I was born? Sure, I could see Robin as a pretty hot boyfriend. But the whole scenario seems a bit shortsighted. Like, what—we fall in love, start doing the happily-ever-after thing, then King Richard shows up with the Grail, and I get my chance to go back to the 21st century? What then? Will I be forced to choose my love over my life? Give up everything I've worked so hard for in order to be with this other person? Uh, been there. Done that. And I don't much like the T-shirt I got from it.