1194, Nottingham Castle, Nottingham

‘Ye understand this is a fool’s errand?’ said Cabot. ‘The king’s forests are thick with the Hooded Man’s followers! And they fight in a way that suits the forests.’

Liam sighed. A night of sleeping on the matter hadn’t helped. In the cold light of the January morning their situation seemed no better. Coils of smoke from last night’s riot snaked up into the tumbling sky, and the subdued town of Nottingham below seemed to glare back at Liam with malevolence.

‘You understand, Mr Cabot, Bob and me aren’t here to play policemen! The sheriff will have to deal with this on his own!’ He turned to Bob, sitting on an oak bench beside the window and gazing out at the town. ‘Bob? Tell him!’

‘Mission priority is retrieving the artefact called The Grail,’ he rumbled, his eyes remaining on the rooftops of Nottingham.

‘William De Wendenal is nothing but a wastrel, a drunkard! His men are deserting!’ Cabot shook his head. ‘I had no idea the authority of John was this far gone! I had no idea how bad –’

‘I’m sorry! But we can’t stay here. We have to go find the Grail!’

‘Do ye not understand, Liam? If law and order falls in this country; if chaos reigns … it is an invitation for civil war! The barons will tear this country into pieces for themselves. Worse still, it is an invitation to France to invade, to plunder England. And by God they will, if they catch wind of this!’

‘Maybe … maybe,’ Liam said, rubbing at tired eyes, ‘but that’s a whole other mission, so it is.’ He turned away from the window. ‘We need the men out there patrolling the forests. We need to find this Hood!’

‘Patrolling the forests! There be barely enough soldiers here to hold the castle! And out there – out in the forests, they would be cut down!’

Liam suspected Cabot was right. The few men left in the castle were either frightened old men or even more frightened boys. Getting them to even consider patrolling the town around the castle would be an endeavour beyond him, let alone organizing a systematic sweep of Sherwood Forest.

‘Bob? Any ideas?’

Bob remained perfectly still.

Liam came over and prodded his shoulder. ‘Bob? Hello?’

Cabot’s eyes narrowed. ‘What is the matter with him? He seems entranced.’

Liam could see muscles in Bob’s face twitch, and the slightest flicker of his eyelids. ‘What is it? Are you getting something?’

‘Just a moment,’ replied Bob. ‘Processing.’

‘What is the matter?’ asked Cabot again, rising from the round oak table, still a shambles of piled parchments and scrolls, matters long overdue for the sheriff’s attention.

‘I think … I think we’re getting a signal.’

‘Signal?’

Liam ignored the old monk’s question. He pulled up a stool in front of Bob and sat down. ‘Bob? Tell me what you’ve got.’

‘Decompressing wide-range tachyon signal data packet,’ he replied. ‘Just a moment.’

A new signal from Maddy, that’s what this had to be. He wondered what had happened. Something not good, presumably.

Finally Bob stirred. His gaze returned from the grey sky over Nottingham and settled on Liam. ‘I have a message from Maddy and an attached data package, Liam.’

‘So what’s the message?’

‘Time wave has arrived. Significant contamination event, originating 1194. Mission requirement has changed. Prevent an event known as “Great Peasant Revolt”. See data package attached for further information on event origins. Pandora now a secondary consideration. Please acknowledge.’

‘What’s the data package?’ asked Liam.

Bob blinked several times before he spoke again. ‘The Great Peasant Revolt of 1194 began during the reign of King Richard. His prolonged absence on the Third Crusade left his country bankrupt. With the king abroad, the authority of the crown quickly eroded under the proxy rule of the king’s younger brother, John …’ His monotone voice echoed across the hall for the better part of an hour as he read aloud the compiled dossier.

Cabot was the first to speak when he’d finished. His normally gruff voice shaken and small. ‘And this … these are events that are yet to happen? Just as I was saying to ye – rebellion? Civil war?’

Liam nodded. ‘That’s history that has now happened.’

‘Has happened?’

‘Will happen,’ corrected Liam.

‘But need not happen if – if …?’

‘If I … if we take some sort of action, yes.’ He offered Cabot a smile and an apology. ‘It seems you’re right, Mr Cabot – there are more pressing matters to attend to.’

‘This means ye will …?’

‘It looks like Bob and me need to stay on here.’ He got up and wandered over to the window and leaned against the stone frame. ‘Those riots going on last night … that appears to be the very beginning of this peasant revolt. It all starts here in Nottingham.’

‘Affirmative,’ said Bob. ‘Corrective measures will need to be applied here immediately.’

‘Ye have John’s full authority,’ said Cabot. ‘Ye will use that?’

Liam shrugged. ‘I’d be mad not to.’

‘So … Liam, ye will become the new Sheriff of Nottingham?’

Liam saw that Bob looked unhappy about that. ‘I know, I know … if I make myself sheriff, I’m contaminating history, but it looks like –’

‘Negative,’ Bob interrupted. ‘Contamination level may be acceptable.’

Liam laughed. ‘Oh come on! There was never a Sheriff of Nottingham called Liam O’Connor!’

‘Historical records of this time do not specify a particular name for the Sheriff of Nottingham.’

‘You mean … no one knows who it was?’

‘Correct. This means your name is unlikely to be recorded in history. This is an acceptable contamination risk.’

Cabot joined them by the window. ‘Do I presume from yer exchange that ye can become the sheriff, then?’

Liam nodded. ‘Uh … yes. Yes, I suppose I can.’

‘Good!’ Cabot slapped him on the back. ‘’Tis much that needs doing.’

‘And quickly.’ Liam sucked in a deep breath. ‘This morning, then, I suppose we should make a start. Get an idea of what supplies there are in the castle. What money there is left in the coffers. And perhaps find out what the people of Nottingham have to say … what they need the most. And this hooded fella – whatever, whoever he is – the poor seem to think he’s some kind of a folk hero. As soon as we can, we need to deal with him.’

Cabot’s old face wrinkled with a smile. ‘Good decisions already, young man.’

‘And we should also get a message back to base,’ Liam said to Bob. ‘Let them know we’re working on it, and that Becks is down in Oxford, so they know where to beam a signal if they want to contact her.’

‘Affirmative,’ replied Bob. ‘I will prepare an encoded message to be carved on the gravestone.’

‘Gravestone?’

Liam offered Cabot a guilty shrug. ‘I suppose we should’ve asked first. We’re, uh … we’re using one of your graves up at Kirklees as a … as a sort of message board. Hope you don’t mind? It involves sort of carving a few lines and –’

Cabot frowned. ‘Ye are interfering with a man’s gravestone?’

Liam nodded.

‘Whose?’ he growled angrily.

‘Haskette.’

Cabot pursed his lips for a moment. ‘Oh, Brother Robert? Not to worry, the man was a fool anyway.’