Written: July 1993 - May 1994
Word Count: Approximately 52,000 words
Background Notes: This story was the second BTTF one I wrote, which I began a couple months after the BTTF4 debacal. More wince-able things in it -- not to mention the plethora of anachronisms. Like the way people spoke in the middle ages. Having done a lot of painstaking research into this time period since then -- most recently for the second book in my original series -- I both smirk and grimace at my former naiveness.
And this tale contains more blatantly obvious, completely pointless scenes of Marty in some form of unconsciousness or sleep that I drooled over while writing this out. I was a high school freshmen, m'kay? I can't believe that I actually turned in this story as I wrote it for credit in my creative writing class.... Man, I had a patient CW teacher!
But it's curious in one respect -- seeing how my writing style was evolving and jumping from the first story.
Friday, November 22, 1985
5:34 P.M.
Hill Valley, California
The letter came suddenly, without warning. It was lying on the table next to the entryway and was the first thing that Marty McFly saw when he walked into the house from school. It captured his attention for two reasons. One, it had no stamp and the postmark looked like it was hand drawn. And two, the envelope that it was in was yellowed and crumbly, as if it had been dropped in water then laid out in the sun to dry. But, Marty noticed, the ink was not smeared, as it would have looked if it had indeed been submerged in water. He also saw that the letter was addressed to him.
"Weird," he whispered, letting his backpack slide down to the floor as he carefully picked up the letter. Marty turned it over and over again in his hands, trying to figure out who it was from, but getting nowhere. After a moment he shrugged and slowly tore the letter open, being careful not to rip the paper that lay inside.
As soon as Marty unfolded it, he knew who it was from. The handwriting was unmistakable. The date confirmed it. December 19, 1285. No one else he knew but Doc Brown could have written him a letter from that time. But why would Doc write him a letter when he could have easily phoned him? It made absolutely no sense. Marty looked down at the aged paper in his hands and figured out the only way he might get some answers was to read the letter, which he did quickly. It was not good news. Marty read it over again, not believing his eyes. Nothing had changed though.
The letter still read -
Dear Marty,
I am writing you from Medieval England. The boys were begging for a vacation through time so Clara and I thought that a trip through the Middle Ages would be fun and educational. Except for the clothing, Jules and Verne have enjoyed it here. But by now you must know that if I am writing you, it is not for staying in touch. Something is wrong.
Upon entering this time, the DeLorean was struck by a flying arrow which broke through the windshield and pierced the flux capacitor, causing a malfunction. We have been here two months now and I have still not been able to fix it. The only solution is to have you take the train and, by bringing all the materials I have listed on the back of this paper, allowing me to fix the DeLorean and return back to 1985. It should only take a few days to fix the time machine and during that time you could experience the Middle Ages firsthand.
The small village that we have settled into is called Mountain Crest. You should be able to find our house fairly easily. To avoid suspicion and make some money to survive on, I have become a blacksmith once again, since I already learned the profession in 1885. Our house that we are living in is right on the edge of the courtyard, with a tree in front of it. It is the only home that has a tree in the yard in this area.
Please come as soon as possible. We're counting on you.
Sincerely,
Marty sighed and stuffed the letter back in the torn envelope. Hadn't he just gotten back from time traveling? It seemed like for this past month he had spent more time in others then in his own. Marty looked at his watch. If he left now, no one would notice his absence or ask questions, like they would if he left after dinner or something. Nevertheless, before leaving the house, Marty wrote a quick note to his brother and sister, since his parents were camping that weekend, explaining that he might home late. But he didn't go into detail why he might be late. He certainly couldn't tell them the truth.
It only took about fifteen minutes to reach Doc Brown's house. Marty tried the front door, but it was locked, as expected. However, when Doc had moved into the house a few weeks before, he had shown Marty where the spare key was kept, just in case of emergency like this one. Dragging a wicker chair that was on the covered porch over to the door, Marty stepped up on it and grabbed the key from off the doorframe where it was resting, just out of sight. A minute later he was in the house.
Marty closed the front door behind him and bolted it, surprised how the sounds echoed and seemed so loud in the empty house. He didn't think that he had ever been in the house when no one was there. It was eerie. Marty walked quickly through the house and went out the back door, heading straight for the detached garage that Doc had turned into his lab. Again, the door was locked, but again Doc had shown him where the spare key was, so getting in was not a problem.
Once in the lab, which was looking almost completely empty since the DeLorean was not sitting in front of the big doors like it usually was, Marty took the letter out of his pocket and slipped the paper out, turning it over to see what materials he would need to bring to Doc. Their were about ten of them, mostly boxes that were listed. Most of them Marty knew where they were or what the tools looked like, but some he had no earthly idea what they could have been.
"Doc could've left descriptions of the things," Marty said under his breath as he thought about how to figure out what a hydrometer was. After a few more minutes and not reaching an answer, Marty decided to just bring the whole box of tools that Doc had. That way, he wouldn't accidentally bring the wrong thing.
After gathering everything listed in a big pile on the floor, Marty went over to the trap door in one corner of the room and rolled back the rug that was laid over top of it to keep it hidden from strangers and prying eyes. Grabbing a flashlight, Marty lifted the trap door up and turned the light on, shining it into the pool of blackness. The place where the train was stored was down a tunnel and in a large basement under the farmhouse. If you didn't have a flashlight with you, it would be a dangerous walk. The steps that lead down were steep. Marty went down them carefully, one hand holding firmly onto the handrail that was installed in the earthen wall. After getting off the steps, it was only a short walk through the tunnel before he came upon the large room that held the train time machine. Marty went directly over to where the light switches were located and flipped them all up. A second later the room was flooded with bright light.
The train sat large and silent on the tracks that Doc Brown had built especially for it. Flicking off the flashlight, Marty walked over to it and pressed the button to open the door. He climbed in to set the flashlight down and was about to exit to get all the materials that Doc had requested, when a piece of paper hanging over the controls caught his eyes. It had not been taped their a week before when Doc had taught him how to work the train. Marty leaned forward to read it. It said, in big bold capitals, 'UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES SHOULD THE TRAIN BE USED BEFORE 12AM OR AFTER 5AM'.
"Perfect," Marty muttered, dropping down in the chair that was in front of the controls. "What am I supposed to do for the next seven hours?"
After loading all the stuff into the train, Marty still had about six and a half hours left to kill. He stood in Doc's living room, debating what to do next. Since his parents weren't home, it didn't matter if he went home before midnight. Marty knew Dave and Linda could care less. Marty also knew that Doc wouldn't care if he stayed here until then, either.
Sighing, Marty looked around the room. The TV that sat in one corner of the room caught his eye. He could always watch that for the next several hours. That would probably make the time pass quicker too. Marty took the remote control from where it was resting on top of the TV and sat down in the armchair across from it. As he turned the TV on, Marty glanced at his watch. It was 6:24. Marty sighed again and began flipping through the channels.
The rope that bound his wrists was too tight. Marty tried moving his hands around in hope of loosening the rope, but it just dug in more.
"You can't get out," a voice said. Marty turned his head and found himself looking into the face of Biff Tannen. Or was it? The man looked exactly like him, but he was dressed in medieval looking clothes. Marty looked down, realizing he was still in his regular 1985 clothes.
"Why am I tied here?" he asked, catching sight of a sharp, pointed arrow that the Tannen guy had in his hand, along with a bow.
The Tannen smiled. "For target practice, of course." He grinned wickedly as he brought up the bow and put the arrow into it, pulling it taut.
Marty gasped as the Tannen stretched the arrow tighter, concentration and determination etched into his features. Was their any way he could get out of here?
The sound of a chime was heard. Marty jerked his head up and instead of a Tannen about to shoot him with a silver arrow, their was a TV with a medieval movie on. At the moment in the movie, Robin Hood was robbing a rich man on horseback at arrow point.
"What a nightmare," Marty whispered sitting up, it all coming back to him. The grandfather clock chimed again and continued ten more times before stopping. It was midnight. Time to go back.
Pushing himself up out of the armchair, Marty walked over to the TV and clicked it off. The room became completely dark, since no lights had been on. The last time he had see the clock before he had fallen asleep, it had been a little after eleven. The lights had been on then but Doc must have had them timed to go off at a certain time since as far as Marty could tell, all lights in the house were out.
Groping his way through the darkened house, Marty reached the back door of the kitchen and twisted the knob, squinting at the sudden, bright moonlight when he stepped out of the house. Locking the door behind him, he walked quickly across the damp grass and several minutes later was opening the door to the train. It was a tight squeeze inside with all the equipment and materials that Doc had asked for stored in the train, but Marty was left with enough room stand.
The door that the train went out through was a pair of huge cellar doors that probably took a ton of energy to lift. But luckily, Doc Brown had installed a special door opener for it and all Marty had to do was flick a switch in the train to open them. They did, without fail. Taking a deep breath, Marty flipped the time circuits on and looked at the letter again. Deciding that the day after the letter was written would be the best time to come, Marty punched in December 20, 1285, Mountain Crest, England. He paused at the time of day, wondering what to put in. After dark would probably be best, Marty finally decided, punching in 12:00AM.
Looking around the train one last time to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, Marty slowly and carefully started the train, holding his breath as it jerked forward and picked up speed. Looking out the window, he saw a succession of images. The frame of the cellar doors as the train rushed through him, the house and the area surrounding it grow smaller as the train took to the air and the big, bright, bold moon. The moon was the last thing Marty saw as the train hit eighty eight miles per hour and then vanished into the past.
'Doc' Emmett L. Brown
December 19, 1285
Friday, December 20, 1285
12:00A.M.
Mountain Crest, England
After the flashes of light that came when the time machines went through time, it was dark. So dark, Marty couldn't see a thing outside. A glance at the time display told him that he was in the right place. But where exactly was here? Squinting, Marty peered out the window again. This time he saw a big, black shape rise suddenly, out of nowhere, right in front of the train. Gasping, Marty looked down at the controls in front of him, searching for the steering mechanism. But it was too late.
The train, already de-accelerating from the trip through time, didn't hit the object with that much force, but it was enough to make an awful crunching noise and shatter something made of glass. Marty, his hands gripping the back of the chair that was in front of him so hard that his knuckles were turning white, could only pray that the train didn't crash in a twisted heap on the ground.
Luckily, it didn't. Their was a scraping noise that went the length of the train on the floor, then he was past it. Hands trembling, Marty quickly landed the train in the first empty field he saw. As soon as he touched ground, Marty jumped out of the train and went to the front to inspect for damage. It didn't look good. The whole front end was crushed and the flux capacitor, that was on the outside at the front on the train, unlike inside like the DeLorean, was shattered and looked like twisted pieces of metal.
"What did I do?" Marty moaned, taking another step closer to the wrecked end of the train. A small branch of a fir tree was caught in the mess. That must have been what hit the train, he realized.
Marty felt something wet and cold hit his face and realized that it was snowing. Looking down, he also saw that a few inches had already accumulated on the ground. Marty shivered, suddenly noticing the major temperature difference. All he had on were some sneakers, jeans, a t-shirt, and his denim jacket. Not the best clothing to wear when it felt like it was fifteen degrees out. A strong wind blew, feeling like icicles being raked across his skin. Teeth chattering, Marty went back into the train to escape the wind and figure out what to do next.
Looking at the letter once again, Marty wondered why Doc didn't include a map of the town. How was he supposed to know where the town was? Sure, the time machine went to the location, but that didn't mean that he was right on top of the houses or buildings. For all Marty knew, he could be five miles away from the town! If he was that far away he'd probably freeze to death before he got there. Though it was out of the wind, the temperature in the train was already rapidly decreasing. Glancing around, Marty saw nothing in the train that he could use to keep warm. Though it was risky, he decided to use the flashlight. As far as he could see, no people were around and if he didn't bring the flashlight, he wouldn't be able to see even three feet in front of him!
Closing the train securely up, Marty began to hike through what was beginning to feel like a blizzard. The wind had picked up and the snow felt like grains of sand that were being propelled through the air. Less then a minute after leaving the sanctuary of the train, Marty felt like he would never be warm again. The flashlight, though powerful, ran into a wall of impenetrable darkness five feet ahead.
"Where is this town?" Marty muttered, keeping his head low in the blowing wind. A minute later his left shoulder brushed against something. He looked up to see a hand carved sign. After chipping off the snow and ice that was caked on it with the help of the flashlight, Marty saw that it read 'Mountain Crest' with an arrow pointing to the right. Turning that way, Marty saw a path that led through some woods. Breathing a sigh of relief he began to walk through it. Here, the snow and wind was not as bad, but it was still bitterly cold.
After walking down the path for about ten minutes, Marty saw a huge stone wall with a metal gate. The gate was open, so he walked on through. If he remembered correctly from his history classes, all towns and villages in the Middle Ages had these to protect them from attacking armies. The village must have not been at war with anyone, otherwise the gates would probably closed and locked. Tilting his head back, Marty looked at the top of the iron gate, with it's large pointed spikes rimming the top of it. He shivered, this time not from cold, thinking what might have happened if he had to climb it.
The buildings started appearing right after the gate. Marty thought they looked like blocks that were stacked on top of each other, then had the ground shaken beneath them. The corners were sharp, angular, and the second stories of the buildings were larger then the first stories. The buildings were also narrow and had only inches of space in between others. If one caught fire, the others would probably go up too, Marty noticed.
Marty heard a scurrying sound behind him and turned to see a big fat rat, the size of a guinea pig. He gasped and backed away. The rat looked at him through glowing red eyes, pausing for a moment before continuing across the road and vanishing into the shadows. Marty swallowed hard and picked his pace up a little bit, keeping the flashlight's beam low and not moving his gaze from the center of the road. He couldn't believe the size of the rats!
Marty suddenly heard footsteps behind him and switched the light off, pausing to listen, his head cocked to one side. Without the flashlight, it grew completely dark, except for the strange, faint glow that the snow gave off. The footsteps grew closer. It sounded like someone running. Suddenly, something leapt out from behind him and, with a shout, grabbed his arm. Marty choked back a scream and yanked his arm out of the person's grip, then ran away as fast as he could. The flashlight dropped from his grasp but he didn't turn around or try to retrieve it. The snow stung his face, and the air was so cold it hurt to breathe, but Marty didn't stop running. He could hear someone chasing after him and didn't want to get caught. Who knew what that person wanted!
The road was slick with ice and, since his shoes didn't have much traction for that, Marty slipped a few times. But he didn't stop running. Coming to some wide stone stairs, Marty ran up them, figuring that where they led would be better then where he was, no matter what! Halfway to the top, he slipped again and fell forward. The last thing Marty saw was a stone step rushing to meet him.
Then there was complete blackness.
Marty opened his eyes, straining them to see anything. But it was completely dark. Yet, he knew that their was someone in the room, someone he knew.
"Mom?" he whispered. "Is that you?"
He felt someone wipe his forehead with a damp cloth. "Just relax now," Marty heard his mother say. "You've been asleep for almost seven hours."
Marty frowned. Since when did his mother speak like she was from England? He decided to ignore it for now. It was probably his imagination.
"I had a horrible nightmare," he moaned, closing his eyes. "I dreamt that was lost in the middle of a blizzard and being chased by something."
Marty heard his mother sigh. "Well, your safe and sound now, here in Tannen Castle."
Marty opened his eyes with a start. "Tannen Castle?" he repeated, sitting up as a match flared and lit a candle. The glow showed a young women dressed in a long, green dress that looked like it was made of silk and a golden wool cape wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was long, down to her waist, but other then that she looked exactly like Marty's mother.
Marty stared at her for almost a minute before he managed to speak. "Who are you?" he whispered, shocked.
The young women smiled softly. "I'm Princess Marian Tannen," she replied, looking at him. "And who might you be?"
Marty frowned for a moment. Her last name was Tannen? Did that mean she was a relative of Biff Tannen? He decided to think about that later. Right now he had to give her a name. But what?
"Robin Hood," he told her, the name popping into his head. Princess Marian Tannen smiled again.
"Nice to meet you, Robin Hood," she said, then asked, "If you don't mind my asking, wherever did you get your clothes? I have never seen anything like them."
Marty looked down, noticing that he was in a four poster canopy bed that was covered with velvety blankets, and also seeing that he was still wearing his 1985 clothing. His eyes widened, wondering how he was going to explain this.
"Oh, I got these imported from America," he finally said, hoping that would answer her question.
Princess Tannen frowned. "What's America?" she asked, puzzled.
Whoops. America wasn't discovered yet, Marty remembered. "Never mind," he said quickly.
That seemed to satisfy Princess Tannen. "I was going back to the castle from my friend's house when I found you on the castle steps. You would have froze to death if I had not come along then," she said.
Marty suddenly remembered running up some steps, trying to get away from whoever was chasing him, then slipping. He must have hit his head on one of the steps. He swallowed hard, realizing how close he could have come to dying. Marty looked around the room, hoping to take his mind off that.
The walls and floor were made of stone and most of the walls were covered with big blankets, covered with symbols or pictures. Marty remembered that they were called tapestries and were used for keeping heat inside castles. The room was large enough to contain the bed, a large fireplace that took up half a wall, a chair and footstool, a bookshelf, and a desk that rested next to the bed. Their was also a small window that had thick glass in it.
"This is my room," Princess Tannen said, breaking the silence. Marty looked at her, once again noticing how much she looked like his mother.
"Who is your mother?" he asked finally. Princess Tannen suddenly looked sad.
"My mother was Queen Alice Tannen. She died ten years ago, when I was only seven, from a deadly fever."
"No, I mean what was your mother's name before she was married," Marty said, looking carefully at her.
"She was Alice Cooper before she married Father," Princess Tannen said, standing up.
Marty frowned. He couldn't remember if any of his ancestors had the name Cooper. It was probably just a wild coincidence that Princess Tannen looked like his mother.
The wooden door suddenly flew open, slamming into the wall behind it. A broad shouldered man stood on the threshold. "Marian, get over here!" he yelled, stepping into the room. The man looked like he had just stepped out of the pages of a history book. He was wearing a gleaming gold crown, a silver and gold shirt with puffed sleeves that went down to his knees, copper colored pants that looked like tights, and a iron belt around his waist. A few gold necklaces, one with an expensive looking jewel on it, rested around his neck. And... Marty blinked, wondering if he was imagining things. The man looked exactly like Biff Tannen!
The princess dashed over to the man. "Right here, Father," she said, curtsying. She turned toward Marty and pointed at him. "This is Robin Hood. Robin, this is my father, King Midas Tannen."
King Midas Tannen? Marty almost groaned out loud. It couldn't be! Not here and not now! He wondered if Biff Tannen knew that he had a royal ancestor. Probably not.
"King Midas Tannen?" Marty asked the scowling man, climbing out of the bed and standing up. It was only then he realized that he was King Tannen's height, unlike in the future where Biff and all the other Tannens towered over Marty. King Tannen scowled at him.
"King Tannen to you," he growled, then asked, no nicer then before, "What were you doing outside in this weather after curfew? Are you trying to get yourself killed by some barbarians?"
Marty looked at King Tannen, puzzled. "What do you mean?" he asked.
King Tannen rolled his eyes. "Never mind. I can see that you are too stupid to know what I am talking about." He walked over to the window and peered out. "It's light out now. Go on home."
Princess Tannen ran to her father, looking over his shoulder at the outside. "It is not that light," she said, then looked at Marty. "Why don't we have Robin Hood stay for breakfast, then he can leave."
King Tannen turned around, looked at Marty with a frown, then looked at his daughter. His face softened. "If it will please you, I give my consent," he said tenderly as he looked at her, then turned to Marty again. His face hardened. "But as soon as he is done, he must leave. I am sure that Daniel would not be happy if he knew that you were having breakfast with someone other then him."
"Daniel?" Marty asked, not having the fainted idea who that was.
Princess Tannen turned to face him. "My fiancee," she said softly, looking at the floor.
King Tannen pointed a pudgy, ring encased finger at him. "Breakfast in five minutes. If you do not show up, do not expect any food." With that he whirled around and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Princess Tannen looked up. "I'm sorry if you think my father rude. He is awfully protective of me. I'm the only thing he had besides Harley, my twin brother. He has spent almost a year searching the country for the perfect husband for me."
"Is that who Daniel is?" Marty asked her.
Princess Tannen nodded, then frowned. "I sometimes wish that father would let me do what I want. I have only met Daniel Covington once, and he is not my type. Not like William Gardener at all -" She stopped abruptly, putting her hand to her lips, like she had said something she wasn't supposed to.
"Who's William Gardener?" Marty asked, looking at Princess Tannen carefully. She shook her head.
"No one. No one at all," she said firmly, then grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. "You heard Father. If you're the slightest bit late, no food. Come, we must hurry."
Princess Tannen dragged Marty down a spiraling stone staircase and through a long narrow stone hall before they reached a huge room. Marty gasped at the high ceiling and the long, long dining table. It was empty except for King Tannen, sitting at the head of the table in a fancy carved chair. Food was spread out all across the table.
"Come, have a seat." King Tannen said to his daughter, then catching sight of Marty, grudgingly waved him over. "You too, Robin Hood."
Marty did as he was told, staring at the food in amazement. Maybe it was because he was used to American food, but the food on the table looked...interesting. Their was what might have been bacon but was lathered in some kind of sauce and had a few flies crawling all over it. Next to it was some bread, but it looked as hard as a rock. Marty looked at the other food spread out on the table but it either had something moving in or on it, smelled really gross, or was a strange color.
King Tannen grabbed the fly infested bacon and bit into it, not even bothering to try and get some of the insects off. Princess Tannen carefully cut a slice of the stale bread and lathered butter that had a spider or something crawling in it. Marty turned away, feeling sick. If this was what medieval food was like, he would probably starve to death before he got to go back to the future.
King Tannen, still chewing the bacon, glared at Marty. "What's wrong, don't you like my servant's cookin'?" he asked, swallowing.
Marty looked at the food set out on the table and shuddered. "No, it's just that I'm not hungry," he said, trying to be polite and pushing the green sausage further away from him.
King Tannen shrugged and had a sample of everything off the table. Princess Tannen stuck to the bread and butter. When King Tannen finished, he pushed his plate away, leaned back in the chair, and let out a loud belch. "That was good," he said, sighing.
Princess Tannen stood up and pushed her chair in. "I'll lead Robin Hood to the door now," she said softly, grabbing Marty's arm and pulling him out of the chair, then dragging him through the castle again.
As soon as they were in front of two, large metal doors that must have been the castle's front doors, Princess Tannen yanked something out of her leather shoe. "Do you know the Gardeners?" she asked Marty, fingering what might have been a folded piece of paper.
"No," Marty said, puzzled. "Who are they?"
"They live right next to the blacksmith's house," she added. "Do you know where that is now?"
Marty shrugged. "More or less," he replied, remembering Doc Brown's directions to his house. If the Gardeners lived next to the blacksmith's, that would have to mean that they had to live next door to Doc.
Princess Tannen thrust the folded up paper in Marty's hand. "Give this to William Gardener. He will know who it is from and what it means." Princess Tannen went over to the doors and flung them opened, letting in a blast of snow and cold. "Now hurry, leave," she said, shoving him out on the doorstep. "And don't tell anyone about the letter." She slammed the door in his face.
Friday, December 20, 1285
7:56 A.M.
Trudging through the early morning streets, snow lightly falling, Marty looked for what Doc had called the 'courtyard'. As far as he saw, there were no trees or empty spaces, aside from the street. A few townspeople were out, and all stared at him strangely as he walked by. Marty wished desperately that he had been able to dress in some medieval clothes before coming.
The snow covered street widened and Marty found himself in a large area with a few trees in the center of it. Marty looked at the nearby buildings for a tree in front of any and almost immediately spotted the large oak. He walked over to the building behind it and tried peering in the dark windows, but saw nothing except blackness.
"Why don't you try the door?" a voice said right next to him. Marty jumped, almost hitting his head on the top of the windowsill, and spun around. Verne Brown, Doc's youngest son, stood in the doorway with a quilt wrapped around him.
"I was trying to see if this was the right place," Marty replied, stepping over to Verne. "I guess it is."
Verne nodded. He looked different, Marty noticed. It took him almost a minute before he realized that Verne was not wearing the coon skin cap that Marty had always seen him in. "Where's your hat?" Marty asked him.
Verne scowled. "Mom and Pop said that since they didn't have those now, I can't wear it. I think it's so unfair."
Marty leaned forward and tried to peer around Verne. "Is Doc up yet?" he asked, not seeing any lights on inside.
Verne stepped aside, back into the house, and motioned for Marty to enter. "Everyone is. We've been waiting for you all day and night."
Marty stepped into the house. Verne shut the door and bolted it behind him with a long plank that he lowered into notches at each side of the door. The whole floor was dark. "I thought you said everyone was awake," Marty said, walking slowly though the room. Something hard hit his shin and he grimaced in pain.
Verne, creeping ahead of him, replied, "This floor is for Pop's blacksmith work. The second floor is where we all live and hang out."
A square of light suddenly appeared from the ceiling. "Verne, what are you doing down there?" Marty heard Doc call.
Verne dashed over to the steep, narrow stairway that Marty could now see was beneath the light square, grabbing hold of Marty's jacket and pulling him behind him up a few stairs before letting go. You'd think that people would be happy if they just asked you to follow them, Marty thought, realizing how much he had been pushed and dragged somewhere ever since he arrived here.
"I saw Marty standing in front of our house and went down to meet him," Verne called back, climbing the steps and climbed through the hole in the ceiling. "I didn't say anything 'cause I wanted it to be a surprise."
Doc leaned down, with a candle in a holder Marty could see now. "Marty! Thank goodness you made it here!" Doc exclaimed, coming quickly down the stairs. "We were afraid you might have lost your way in the snowstorm."
Marty shook his head. "Your instructions were very precise."
"Good," Doc replied, looking pleased. "I trust that you brought all the materials that I listed with you."
Marty nodded. "I left them all in the train, which," he added hesitantly, "plowed right into a tree when I entered this time."
Doc paled a bit in the candlelight. "What do you mean it 'plowed into a tree'?" he asked, his voice rising slightly.
"When I got into this time, the train slammed right into the top of a tree," Marty explained. "The front got the most damage. I think that the flux capacitor may be busted."
Doc sighed and set the candle down on to a small carved table, turning to look out the window. Marty looked in amazement for the first time at the clothing that Doc was wearing. It was similar to what King Tannen had been wearing but much, much plainer. The shirt was not gold but tan, with no puffed sleeves or jewelry, the pants or tights, whatever they were, was a plain black color, and Doc had no belt.
"Just out of curiosity, what am I going to have to wear while I'm here?" Marty asked, eying Doc's clothes suspiciously.
Doc looked back at Marty, noticing for the first time what he was wearing. His eyes immediately widened. "What are you doing, wearing those clothes at this time?"
Marty shrugged. "Doc relax. Not many people saw me, and I never even thought of changing clothes until it was too late."
Doc stepped away from the window and picked the candle up again. "You must change clothes immediately! If the wrong kind of people saw you, the results could be fatal."
Marty shook his head. "Whatever," he said, following Doc up the stairs. He guessed that would make sense, since wearing something a little strange looking in 1885 when he had first arrived had almost got him hung.
The room that the stairs led to appeared to be the living room or something similar to that. Clara Brown sat in a chair at a small table, looking out at the snow falling from a window. She was also dressed in medieval clothes, a long dress that looked a bit like Princess Tannen's, but also not as fancy. The dress was a dark blue and was very long and loose, except for the chest, where it was pulled tight. Clara's hair was partially pulled up in a bun, with the rest falling past her shoulders and down to her waist. Marty realized that she must have not cut it when going to live permanently in 1985, since it had been that long in 1885, when he had first met her.
Jules Brown, Doc's other son, was lying on his stomach on the floor dealing out cards, a blanket wrapped around him. Verne sat across from him. They must have been in the middle of a game when Marty arrived. Marty couldn't tell what either boy was wearing, since they both had blankets around them. With good reason, too. Except for a fire going in a fireplace that took up one whole wall, the room had no other visible source of heat. The temperature, except for right in front of the fire, was not much warmer in the room then it was outside.
"Look who finally showed up," Doc announced, stepping in the middle of the small room. Clara looked away from the window and stood, walking the few steps it took to get to the center of the room.
"Marty, we're so glad you could come!" Clara said softly then looked around the room, frowning a bit. Marty looked too and didn't see anything especially awful. The room was on the small side, with hardwood floors and walls. For some reason, hay was packed down on the floor, like wall to wall carpeting. It was probably for insulation, but it didn't make the room that much warmer. Across one wall what might have been a very early couch was placed. It had a carved wooden frame and looked like a bench. Some giant pillows were placed on the back and bottom, which would make it more comfortable to sit on than if it didn't have those. Next to the 'couch' was the table, with four chairs pushed in and a lace tablecloth over it. The window was above it, the curtains matching the tablecloth. Glass, though distorted and wavy, was in the window.
"You guys have this place fixed up nice," Marty commented, noticing two closed doors that were set in another wall. "What's behind those?"
Clara and Doc turned around to see what he was pointing at. "Those are the bedrooms," Doc replied, walking over to them and opening one of the doors. Marty noticed that he had to duck to go through the doorway. It was probably because people were so much shorter now, whoever built the house didn't take into account what might have happened if people grew taller than about five feet, eight inches, which was the height of the doorway. For once in his life, Marty was glad he was on the short side. It would really hurt if you forgot to duck while going through the door. "Follow me," Doc said, walking into the room.
Marty did so and strained his eyes in the dim candlelight to see what was in this room. This one had no window in it. Two beds, one made, the other not, and both with small canopies for some reason, sat at opposite sides of the tiny room, along with what looked like and old fashioned dresser that had half the drawers open and clothes oozing out. That was all the room contained. This must have been Jules's and Verne's room. A set of more narrow stairs were parallel to the doorway that they had just walked through and Doc headed straight for those.
"What's up here?" Marty asked, looking up past Doc at the rectangle of darkness that was at the top of the stairs.
"Your room," Doc told him, stepping into the blackness and shielding the candle with his hand from what seemed to be a light draft in the room. Marty noticed that this room was also really small, but with an extremely low and slanted ceiling. He almost hit his head on one of the beams when he stepped into it. Across from the stairs, against the only wall that was normal and not angled funny, was a narrow bed, piled high with quilts and blankets. It also had a canopy. That, a small table with a wooden chair next to it, and a wooden wardrobe that was pushed against one low wall were the only room's furnishings, not counting the floor of hay that was up here too.
"This is my room?" Marty wondered out loud, walking around it. "Why do all these beds have canopies anyway?" he added.
"This would normally be the workmen's room in a house like this, but we don't have any so it is all yours," Doc explained, "and every bed during this era has some form of canopy because of the rats that run around in the ceiling's hay insulation. Imagine if you woke up every morning to find yourself covered with rats that fell during the night."
That made lots of sense, Marty thought, glancing up at the canopy suspiciously as if it was going to split open and dump a pile of rats on him any second. He shifted his gaze down on the bed to see clothes laid out on it. "Is this what I'm gonna have to wear while I'm here?" he asked slowly, holding the dark brown tights up with distaste.
Doc nodded. "I know that the clothes aren't the best looking, but since this is how people dress now, we must too," he said sympathetically.
Marty looked at the clothes again. "Could be worse, I guess," Marty sighed. But not much, he thought to himself.
Doc pointed to the wardrobe. "You can place your other clothes in there. The wardrobe also contains a cloak for when you go outside." He set down the candle on the table then turned and started for the door. "I'll give you some time to change, then come down to the main room. I want you to show me the train so that I can calculate the damage and get the materials out of it to fix the DeLorean."
Marty nodded. "Fine," he said, watching as Doc paused and drew a curtain in front of the stairway before disappearing down them.
"For privacy," he added, then vanished.
Marty looked down at the clothes that he was going to be doomed to wear for the next few days. Groaning, he began to take off his jacket.
Doc Brown looked out the window and lit another candle, setting it in the center of the table. It was still snowing, though not as heavily as it had been before. The streets were all covered with a few feet of snow, making it look much better then it did without, Doc thought. He had never realized that the medieval times were anything like he had seen.
"Is Marty getting settled?" Clara asked, coming up behind him and leaning to look out the window better.
Doc nodded. "He's changing clothes right now, then we're going to go out to where the train is, so I can see how bad the damage and get all the things that he brought so I can fix the DeLorean."
Clara straightened up and looked over at him, frowning. "What do you mean the train has damage?" she asked worriedly. "Did something happen to it?"
Doc sighed and sat down in one of the chairs. "Marty said that when the train came in this time, it hit a tree. He said the front got most of the damage and I want to check it out."
Clara gasped. "You mean that if you weren't able to fix the car, we would be stuck here permanently?" she asked, her voice rising higher.
"We're stuck here?" Verne questioned Doc, coming up behind them and looking into their faces.
"We're stranded?" added Jules from behind Clara, looking concerned.
"No, we're not stuck or stranded here permanently." Doc said firmly, looking at his worried family. "Marty said that he brought everything that I listed in the letter, and that is all I need to repair the flux capacitor in the DeLorean. Even if the train is unable to be repaired now, we can still tow it behind us when we go back to the future, or use the DeLorean to go in the future and get the correct items to fix that."
Clara sighed and looked out the window at the drifting flakes. "I hope your right Emmett," she said, still sounding worried. Jules and Verne went back to their game of cards and the room once again grew quiet.
The door behind him suddenly flew open and Doc turned to see Marty standing at the edge of the room, frowning. He was dressed in the clothes that Doc had set out for him and didn't look one bit happy.
"Doc, do I really have to wear this?" Marty moaned, stepping into the room and making a face. "Couldn't I just wear my normal clothes and stay up here all the time?"
Doc stood up and shook his head sharply. "Certainly not! Even if you were to do that, their is still the off chance that someone outside of the family could come up here and see you."
Marty sighed and looked down at his clothes. Doc thought that they weren't particularly bad, considering some of the things that he had seen here. Marty was wearing a loose long sleeved white shirt that went to almost his knees. It was also supposed to be used as a nightshirt during times like these. A dark green vest, unbuttoned and loose, was over that, just as long as the shirt. The brown leather belt that Doc had received as a gift from a neighbor for shoeing their horse was around Marty's waist, over the white shirt. Brown tights and some high leather boots completed the outfit.
"I look like a complete dork in these tights," Marty complained, pointing to them. "Plus, they make my legs itch. I must be allergic to them or something."
"They're made from wool; they make everyone's legs itch," Doc explained. "But you'll forget that as soon as you walk outside and realized how warm they keep you."
"I guess I don't have much of a choice about wearing this stuff then, do I?" Marty asked glumly, looking up at Doc.
Doc smiled. "I'm afraid not," he replied, walking over to the table and taking his long coat that was hanging over the back of the chair off it. "Are you ready to go?"
"Just a minute," Marty said, turning and running out of the room, returning a second later with the long black hooded cloak that Doc had given him to wear outdoors. "How do you wear one of these things, anyway?" he wondered, holding it up and looking at it puzzledly.
Doc put on his coat, then walked over to Marty and took the cloak out of his hands. "What you do is drape this over your shoulders, then button it right here, under the neck," Doc explained, showing him how to do so. "Then you can just pull up the hood outside."
Marty nodded, then pulled the hood up. "Are we going to ride horses or walk?" he asked Doc.
"Walk," Doc replied, turning and walking to the stairs that led downstairs. "The horses spook easily when it snows," he explained, then added, "plus the walking will be good for us and we will be able to carry more. Come on."
Friday, December 20, 1285
11:23 A.M.
The train was almost unrecognizable from all the snow that had been piled up on it. Marty stopped and squinted, not sure that it really was the train for a minute. But then he saw the glint of black metal at the top and knew that it couldn't be anything else.
"This is it," he told Doc, who was a few feet behind and dragging some sleds. They would be used to carry all the boxes of materials that Marty had brought for the DeLorean.
Doc let go of the ropes that he had been holding that were attached to the sleds and walked up to the train. "Where exactly did it get hit?" he asked, taking a long look at every snow covered inch of the train.
Marty stepped carefully through the snow toward the front. The snow must have been about a foot deep and it was extremely hard and exhausting to walk in. "It was over here," he said, waving to the front, then using and end of his cloak to brush some of the snow off. "See?" he added, pointing to the edge of scraped and torn metal that was uncovered.
Doc rushed over and brushed more snow off until, with Marty's help, the whole front of the train was bare. He then walked slowly around the front and stared it for a long, long time.
"Do you think you can fix it?" Marty asked nervously, breaking the long silence. What if he had permanently wrecked it for good?
Doc was silent for a minute more, then he nodded slowly. "I'll have to re-construct the flux capacitor," he said mostly to himself, bending down and picking up a small twisted and broken wire that might have come from it. Doc examined it for a moment, then looked over at Marty. "But their seems to be no structural damage to the frame and all I will need to do is take apart certain areas of the front, then push it back to it's natural shape."
Marty let out all the breath that he had been holding. "So does that mean I didn't break it permanently?" he asked hopefully.
Doc shook his head, putting the wire in his pocket and walking over to the train's door. "No, this is nothing that can't be fixed. I'll have to repair the DeLorean first, then use it to go to the future and purchase the materials that I need to fix this. But the first thing we have to do is move the train to somewhere safe and get the things out that you brought to fix the DeLorean."
Doc Brown opened the train's door and vanished inside, then reappeared with a box that was marked 'Spare and/or Leftover Parts from Flux Capacitors'. He handed Marty the box and Marty set it down on one of the sleds. In a few minutes all the boxes and bags had been unloaded out of the train, and were heaped on to the two sleds. Doc climbed down out of the train and handed Marty some rope.
"Tie this over the boxes on the sleds to secure them better for when you drag them back," he explained, then climbed back into the train. "I'm going to go hide this somewhere, so you'll have to drag those back by yourself. We can meet back at the house." Without waiting for an reply, Doc shut the door and a minute later the train slowly rose, then carefully flew up the sky until it vanished behind some tall pines.
Marty sighed and looked at the rope in his hands. He carefully untangled it and discovered that their were two pieces that had just been twisted and knotted together. Marty quickly tied the ropes on to the sleds and secured the cargo, then took one of the tow rope in each hand and began to walk, dragging both sleds behind him.
Halfway back the wind began to pick up and it began to snow again. Marty pulled the cloak tighter around him and tried to walk a bit faster. By the time he reached the house, it was snowing harder and he felt drained of all energy. His legs felt like frozen blocks of wood. Doc had been wrong about the wool keeping his legs that warm. Wading through a foot of snow had ruined that. Shoving open the door, he pulled the sleds into the room, then slammed the door shut, fighting to drop the wooden plank in front of the door , while keeping the door shut against the howling wind. It took him almost a minute to do so.
"Good thing you're back," Marty heard Doc say from behind him. Turning, he saw the scientist hurry over and begin to untie the ropes, still speaking. "Another storm is brewing and I suspect that it is supposed to be a big one before it blows over."
Marty trudged over to a stool and flopped down in it, looking around the room for the first time. "What's down here, anyway?" he asked, not seeing anything the slightest bit home-like in the room.
Doc stood up, lifting a box off one of the sleds. "This is my business," he replied, "I do all the blacksmith work down here. People lived like this during these times. Could you get some of these boxes?" Doc asked quickly, walking toward the back of the room.
Marty stood up slowly, his legs complaining. "Sure, why not," he said under his breath, lifting up a small box that rattled when shook and following Doc. After going into another room, Marty saw from the low light level, since their were no windows in this room either, just a few candles, a large sleek shape that was covered with a drop cloth. A desk and a table sat at opposite corners of the room. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked, gesturing to the shape.
Doc set the box down on a table and nodded. "It's the DeLorean," he confirmed, walking over to it and pulling the cloth back off it. The DeLorean sat silent, it's silver finish glittering slightly. The time machine looked perfectly normal except for the fact that their was a hole in the center of the windshield with long spidery cracks extending from it. The flux capacitor was missing out of the car and out of the corner of his eye, Marty saw it resting on the table that Doc had set the box down on, it's insides spread out.
"What are you gonna do about the window," he asked Doc, putting the rattling box down next to the car.
Doc grabbed the cloth and began to cover the car up again. "I have a repair kit for that in one of the boxes. The kit will mend it temporarily until we can get back to 1985 and get it fixed permanently."
It only took a couple of minutes to get the boxes moved into the back room between the two of them. As soon as they were done, Marty realized he had to do something important, something he couldn't put off any longer.
"Um, Doc?" he began as Doc was unpacking one of the boxes.
"Yes?" he asked, turning around.
"Where is the uh, you know, outhouse?" Marty asked hesitantly. "I kinda need to use one now."
Doc frowned. "They're aren't any."
"They're aren't any?" Marty repeated, his eyes widening. "Then what do you do?"
"Use the woods at the end of the street," he said, turning his attention back to the box. "Be careful, however. The weather is getting bad."
Marty stayed in the room a moment longer, debating his choices - he either could go and feel a whole lot better or wait and suffer some more - before going out of the house, standing for a minute in the middle of the street, trying to figure out where the woods were. At the far end, through the blowing snow, he caught a glimpse of some shadowy pines and began walking as fast as he could under the circumstances. It took him about five minutes to get to the woods.
"I hate the Middle Ages," he muttered as he stalked through the forest, swatting branches back from his face. At least he could see now, since the trees gave him some shelter from the snow. In fact, the ground was completely dry and bare of any snow. What he wouldn't give for a nice clean bathroom, especially one with heat! It was freezing cold out here!
Marty waited until he could no longer see the street before stopping next to a big round pine. He stood their for a moment, realizing how bad he had to go and also thinking how much he hated this. Outhouses suddenly seemed like the best thing in the world.
Ducking behind the tree, Marty leaned against it a moment and took a deep breath, shaking his head. "I can't," he whispered to himself. But he had to. He had no other choice. If he didn't go soon, he would be in trouble.
Marty turned around to face the tree and started to unbutton the tights. It seemed to take forever, since his fingers were half frozen and he was so desperate he was shifting his weight from side to side. But finally it was done and Marty aimed for the base of the tree and let it all out, tilting his head back and closing his eyes with a long deep sigh as he felt the immense relief as it was all released. The sound of it hitting the side of the tree was the only thing that broke the heavy quiet of the woods. When he was finished, a couple of minutes later, Marty buttoned himself back up and stood in the woods for a minute.
"Wow, now I know what the expression 'relieving yourself' really means," he said under his breath. Marty turned around and started to walk back to Doc's house, glad that was over with, for now.
When he reached the house, Marty went straight upstairs to take the cloak off and to take a better look at his room. Picking up a candle that was sitting on the table in the family room, which was empty, he climbed the narrow stairs that led to his room.
The wind was louder up here and the room colder. Wasn't hot air supposed to rise? Marty thought, shivering a little. It was cold enough to see his breath up here! At least it was better than the outside. Marty walked over to the table next to the bed and set the candle down, right next to an old, wind up alarm clock that he hadn't noticed before. It was a little before 2PM.
Taking off the cloak, Marty folded it and placed it on top of the chair. He then sat down on the edge of the bed, looking around the room. The candle cast strange and eerie shadows on the walls and ceiling. Marty wished that they had at least lanterns at this time. He shivered from cold and stood up, taking one of the thick quilts that was folded up at the foot of the bed and wrapping it around him, then lay down on the bed and gazed at the canopy. The bed felt like it had feathers or hay used for the stuffing in the mattress. It wasn't particularly uncomfortable, but Marty was glad that they decided to improve things by 1985.
The candle flickered and the shadows shifted on the walls, making it look like things were moving out of the darkness. Marty shut his eyes, not wanting his imagination to go overboard. Immediately he felt more relaxed. His thoughts drifted to various things. Meeting the royal Tannen's, walking in the snow, getting to Doc Brown's house, more walking in the snow. The wind had picked up and Marty could vaguely hear it blowing and making the house creak and groan. But it didn't seem that important at the moment.
Without intending to, Marty fell into a deep sleep.
Clara set down a steaming pot of soup and sat down, looking around the table to make sure that everyone was present. She frowned and asked, "Where's Marty?"
Doc looked up from the papers that he had been reading about repairing the flux capacitor and glanced around the table, then around the room. "I don't know," he replied. "I haven't seen him since he helped me transport all the materials here, early this afternoon."
"I saw him go up to his room earlier," Verne said suddenly, jumping to his feet. "I'll go see if he's still there."
Doc nodded, pre-occupied. "Go ahead," he said, looking down at the papers again.
Verne ran out of the room, glad to have something to do, even if it would only take about a minute. He couldn't believe how boring the Middle Ages were. Verne had thought that all people did now were fight with swords and have really cool parties with brave dudes who got to fight evil dragons and defy danger at every turn. Instead, no one fought unless it was in the Crusades, the only parties were at King Tannen's castle, who didn't invite people who were not royalty, their were no dragons, and the biggest danger that had to be defied was not getting sick.
Before climbing up the stairs, Verne went over to the dresser that he and his brother shared and fumbled around for the candle and the box of matches. That was another bummer about the middle ages - no electricity. It was almost completely dark in the room, except for the small bit of light that came from the main room where everyone else was gathered for dinner. His hands came into contact with the half melted candle and the small matchbook that held about 20 matches left. After a few strikes, the match caught and Verne hurriedly put it to the candle wick, before it could go out or burn his fingers. The candle grabbed the flame and put out a weak, but steady glow.
Putting the match into a small dish of water to make sure that it would not re-light and burn down the house, Verne picked the candle up and went over to the stairs, climbing them slowly. He strained his ears to hear any sound from upstairs, but hearing nothing except the slight distant conversation that came from the main room. Keeping his hand in front of the candle's flame so that any sudden breeze would not blow it out, Verne carefully pulled the curtain back that was strung across the doorway and looked in.
The room was dark except for the faint glow that came from on a small table that was set up next to the bed, which was piled high with quilts. Verne walked cautiously over to the table, his eyes darting around nervously. Once at the table, he could see that the faint glow had come from an almost burnt out candle that was sitting in a pool of melted wax. Verne leaned over and blew it out, knowing that if the candle had burned all the way down, a fire could have possibly started. Setting his own candle down on the table, Verne looked around, seeing no sign of Marty. Where could he be?
"Marty? Are you in here?" Verne called softly, walking around the room and peering in all the dark corners. He shrugged and turned back to the table, then saw something that made his blood run cold. The pile of blankets and quilts on the bed were moving!
"Help," Verne whispered, backing away toward the stairs, then retraced his steps and decided to grab the candle before splitting. Otherwise he would have to go back to the main room in the dark and that was almost as scary as facing the blankets.
Verne had his hand out and was reaching out to snatch the candle, when the pile shifted again and something looked at him. He stared back into the dark, glittering eyes for a moment, frozen with fear before both he, and the pile, started screaming simultaneously.
Footsteps, fast and heavy, thundered up the stairs and suddenly, Doc, Clara, and Jules were standing in the room, all with candles. With the extra light, Verne could now see that the monster was really Marty!
"Marty!" he yelled, just as Marty cried out, "Verne!"
"What's going on here?" Doc shouted, looking at the both of them for and explanation.
"I just came up here like you told me, to get Marty for dinner, when he jumped out of the blankets scaring me to the edge of death!" Verne exclaimed, crossing his arms across his chest and looking up at his father.
"Dinner?" Marty asked, his eyes wide, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "You must be kidding."
Doc shook his head. "What would make you think we were?" he asked.
"Because last time I looked at the clock, it was only two PM," Marty replied, pointing to the alarm clock that was resting next to the dead candle.
Jules looked down at his watch, even though, Verne thought sourly, it was battery operated. He couldn't see why Jules was allowed to wear something like that when he couldn't even wear a hat that wasn't invented yet. But then again, Verne thought, perhaps Mom and Pop thought that no one would notice that the watch had a battery instead of wind up gears. The watch looked authentic, after all.
"It's exactly seven twenty four, and thirteen seconds," Jules announced, letting his arm drop back down. "Almost five and a half hours after two."
Marty looked at the clock next to the bed for a moment. "I guess I must have fallen asleep then," he said, shrugging. "I hardly got any sleep last night, what with coming here then meeting the Tannens."
"You what?" Doc asked, sounding like he wasn't sure as if he had heard correctly.
"I didn't tell you guys?" Marty asked, pushing off the layers of quilts he had around him.
"No," Verne replied, speaking for them all. "You really met the Tannens?"
Marty nodded. "Someone was chasing me and while I was trying to run away from them, I slipped and hit my head. When I woke up, I was in the Tannen's castle and got to meet King Midas Tannen and Princess Marian Tannen."
Verne looked at Doc, along with Jules and Clara. Marty pushed himself off the bed and walked over to the family. He began to look uncomfortable when a minute passed and no one said anything. "What, did I do something wrong?" he asked, sounding confused.
Doc let out a huge sigh. "Did they ask you any probing questions?" he asked, looking at Marty with a penetrating gaze. Verne knew the look all too well. It was the look that his father always gave when he was trying to see if the victim was stretching or manipulating the truth or out and out lying.
"They asked where I got my clothes from and for my name," Marty said, looking into Doc's eyes and not flinching in the slightest. He must have been telling the truth then, Verne realized. He knew that when he was trying to make something up, he didn't stand straight and firm and he never looked anyone in the eye. That would be instant death if you were trying to lie.
"What did you tell them?" Doc asked, sounding slightly curious.
"I told them that my clothes were imported and that I was Robin Hood," Marty replied seriously.
Verne burst out laughing. "You, Robin Hood!" he said in disbelief, his shoulders shaking with the laughter.
Marty shrugged. "It's the first name that I could think of, under the circumstances," he said.
"Well, we better go down and eat dinner before it gets cold," Clara said suddenly, turning and heading down the stairs. Jules followed, but Verne stayed, wanting to see if anything else happened up here.
"You really told them that your name was Robin Hood?" Doc asked raising an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turned upward, in what Verne could tell was a hidden smile.
Marty grinned. "Absolutely," he said, going down the stairs.
Doc turned toward Verne. "We better go follow Robin Hood to dinner," he said, chuckling as the two of them went down the stairs.
Friday, December 20, 1285
8:09 P.M.
It wasn't until after dinner that Marty finally remembered the note that he was supposed to give William Gardener for Princess Tannen. By then, it was pitch black outside and the sky had cleared to reveal a moonless night.
"Do you know where the Gardeners live?" Marty asked Doc suddenly while they were sorting through all the repair materials for the DeLorean that he had brought, in the back room.
"You mean Doctor Gardener and his family," Doc said, straightening up and setting a box that was full of screws on the table. He turned to look at Marty, puzzled. "Why do you what to know?"
"I, ah, found something of theirs that I have to give back to them," Marty said slowly, hoping Doc would belive that.
"What exactly did you find?" Doc asked, turning his attention back to the unpacking.
"Oh, just something," Marty replied vaguely, edging toward the door. "I'll be right back, okay?"
Without waiting for an answer, he darted out of the room and ran up the stairs, ignoring the looks that Clara, Jules, and Verne gave him as he ran through the living room. Marty took the stairs that led to his attic room two at a time and dashed over to the wardrobe where he had put his 1985 clothes. Picking the jacket up, Marty felt around in the pockets for the piece of paper, then took it out. He looked at it for a moment, curiosity building. It was folded four times and was not that big. It wouldn't be his fault if, say, the paper just fell open and his eyes just happened to see what was written on it, would it?
Marty gave his wrist a quick jerk and the letter quickly unfolded. It was way too dark to see anything up here though, especially without the candle. After putting his jacket back where it had been, Marty went over to the table and quickly lit the candle with a box of matches that someone had put there. Holding the letter close to the light, Marty carefully read it. The handwriting was in looped, slanted cursive that was a little hard to read.
Dearest William,
The plans are all prepared. On the morrow, December 21, join me behind my castle. I shall have some horses and a wagon ready for our escape. I beg you, tell no one of this. If Father found out of our eloping, you shall most surely be killed or at the very least imprisoned in the dark dungeon with all the diseased rats. Be on time, at 1:30. It will be dark then and no one should be up. The less we have to witness our departure, the best.
I know that it will be hard to leave everyone behind forever, but you know that their is no other way. It is either this or me to marry Daniel the day after Christmas. You know that it would be death if we were parted forever. I love you so much and I am sure that you feel the same. We may not be rich, but we will at least be together forever.
Much Love,
"Whoa," Marty whispered, re-folding the letter. Princess Tannen was going to elope with a doctor's son instead of a prince? That was heavy. He looked at the clock and noticed that it was almost eight thirty. If William Gardener needed to meet Princess Tannen at one thirty in the morning, he better get this to him right away.
It was easy to get outside. None of the Browns noticed him going out the front door. The house may had been cold and drafty, but the temperature drop outside made Marty gasp. He had forgotten to wear his cloak, so all he had on to keep warm were the clothes on his back. Marty walked a few feet away from the house and examined the other two buildings. Both had lights burning in the second story windows, but only one had a candle in a first story window. Marty remembered reading somewhere that in the old days, doctors kept lights burning in windows all night in case of emergencies during the night. The one with the candle in the first story window was probably the doctor's. He headed for that house.
It took over a minute after Marty knocked on the door before it was answered. "Can I help you?" a thin, wiry young man with blond hair asked, holding a candle out in the doorway. He looked like he was about the same age as Marty.
"I have a letter for William Gardener from Princess Marian Tannen," he said, holding the folded paper up.
"I'm William Gardener," the young man said, looking at the letter, but not taking it. "Come in."
Marty stepped inside and looked around. Unlike the blacksmith tools that had been on the first floor of Doc's house, the Gardener's first floor had strange looking metal and wood instruments that were against the wall, a bed that was neatly made, and a table full of jars of different colored liquids, gels, and pills. Their was also a big bowl of something that was black and moving in one corner of the room.
"You must be a friend of Marian's to be giving me this," William said, shutting the door and taking the letter from Marty's hand. "What's your name?"
"I'm Robin Hood," Marty said, his eyes on the squirming black mass. "What is that?" he asked William, pointing to it.
William glanced over and shrugged, unfolding the letter. "That is just father's collection of leeches," he said calmly, beginning to read the letter.
"Leeches?" Marty said incredulously, wondering if he had heard right. "Those are leeches?" William nodded, still reading the letter. "They are for sucking the ill out of patients," he said absentmindedly.
Marty walked cautiously over to the bowl and looked down at it. They really were leeches! He bent down closer and saw that they were in about three inches of blood that rested at the bottom of the bowl. "Gross!" Marty said under his breath, making a face.
"You'll have to come with me," William said suddenly, putting the letter down and looking at Marty.
"What?" Marty asked, turning around.
"You need to come with me to meet Marian," William repeated. "It says so right here," he added, picking the letter up and holding it out. Marty took the letter out of his hand and re-read it. Sure enough, at the very bottom in small messy script it said 'Please bring Robin Hood with you'.
"Why do you guys need me there?" he asked, puzzled. If Princess Tannen wanted no witnesses, why ask someone to come?
"I don't know," William said, shrugging. "But meet me in front of my house at one fifteen. We can go to the castle together, that way there is less of a chance of being attacked by barbarians."
"Barbarians?" Marty repeated. "What are those?"
William looked at him, confused. "You don't know what barbarians are?" he asked.
"No, what are they?"
William shook his head. "You do not want to know. But it is best to never meet one." He paused, then went on. "We must also be careful so that we aren't caught after curfew. It begins at nine and does not end until the dawn."
Marty caught sight of a small grandfather clock that was hanging on the wall. "That's in three minutes," he blurted out.
William turned to look at the clock. "You must hurry and leave then!" he exclaimed, his green eyes wide. "The King's lawmen will be coming around and checking all the houses."
"Okay," Marty said slowly, heading for the door. "So, I have to meet you at one fifteen in front of this house?"
William nodded quickly. "Yes, and try not to be late. It would only hinder our escape." He strode to the door and threw it open. "Now go, quick."
Marty's eyes snapped open and he lifted a hand, feeling the table for the screaming alarm clock. He felt it brush against his fingers, then heard a crash as it clattered on the floor. But it was still ringing. Marty crawled out from under all the quilts and leaned over the side of the bed, reaching out and this time grabbing the clock, then pushing in the alarm button. He breathed a sigh of relief when the alarm grew silent. It had not been in his plans to fall asleep, though he had set the alarm just in case. It had been a wise decision. Marty just hoped that the whole house was not up. He had not realized just how loud the alarm would be.
After setting the clock back on the table, Marty stood up and carefully crept across the room where he put on the cloak that had been resting on the chair and as quietly as possible, went down the stairs. Perhaps it was from the dark and from getting woken up so fast, but he had a slight headache and felt a little dizzy.
He was almost out of the door that let to the living room when he heard someone whisper his name. Turning, Marty saw a dark shadow sitting up in one of the beds. "Where are you going?" he heard Verne whisper. "I heard that alarm clock go off."
"Shhhhhhh," Marty hissed. "I have to meet someone. I'll be back soon. Relax."
Marty heard Verne sigh. "You better. Pop won't be too happy if he knew that you were doing this."
Marty didn't answer that. He knew that Doc would probably have a heart attack if he knew that Marty was sneaking out to meet some people that he was probably not even supposed to see in the first place. But it was too late now.
"Don't worry, I'll be back before dawn, I can promise that," he said, stepping out of the doorway, then shutting it softly behind him before Verne could say anything else. Marty planned on being back by morning if it killed him. If he wasn't, Verne would surely tell Doc that he had gone out in the middle of the night then he would be in deep trouble.
The rest of the trip through the house went with no other hitches. It was snowing again outside, and colder than it had been earlier. Marty couldn't see anyone in the street, let alone William. He walked slowly over to the Gardener's house and stood in front of it, looking around. A minute later he felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around to find William behind him, with a hooded cloak on and something wrapped in a quilt under one arm. A lit torch was in the other hand.
"Are you ready to go?" William asked him.
"If you are," Marty replied, pulling his hood up to keep the increasing snowflakes from landing in his hair, then melting and making him even colder than he already was.
William nodded. "I packed everything that I own in this quilt," he said, holding the bundle up.
William began to walk down the center of the street. Marty followed him a few paces behind, glad that he seemed to know the way to the castle. It had been easy to find his way here from the castle, but going to it, especially at night, was a very different story.
It took only about ten minutes to get to the back of the castle. The snow had let up a bit during that time, but a slight wind had started. Marty saw William stop next to a wagon that had two horses tied up to a tree, with several rolled up blankets and quilts in the back. Princess Tannen was nowhere in sight.
"This is where she told us to meet her," William said, tossing his bundle in the wagon's back. "Marian is probably still packing."
"William! Robin Hood! You're here!" Marty heard Princess Tannen say. He turned and saw her hurrying toward them, her arms filled with jars of food.
William stepped forward and took some of the jars out of her arms. They both carefully set them in the back, then embraced and kissed. Marty looked at the snowy ground, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He was still wondering why Princess Tannen had wanted him to come if she and William wanted to escape without witnesses.
"Come, you both must help me carry more things down here," Princess Tannen said urgently, stepping away from William and looking toward the tall dark shape that was the castle. She started toward the castle, taking William's hand and pulling him behind her, running. Marty sighed and followed, beginning to feel like he was tagging along on everything. Didn't anyone have any patience?
Princess Tannen was waiting in the doorway and tugged Marty inside as soon as he was close enough. "We must hurry, but be extremely quiet," she whispered, softly shutting the door. "Father will hang the both of you if we are discovered."
Princess Tannen led the both of them to the kitchen, which looked a bit dusty, and told them to pick out some food, then bring it to the wagon. The only light came from torches that were in stands on the walls.
"Please be quiet," she said again, starting to leave the room with a big ham in her arms. "Father's bedroom is right next to here."
It took five minutes of carrying out food before their was enough in the wagon for Princess Tannen's satisfaction. Marty had to take the last load out, a large goose. He had it out in the hall when he stepped on something soft, probably a rat. The rat let out a high pitched squeak and Marty fell back onto the ground, to shocked to say anything. The goose flew out of his hands over his head and hit a closed door next to the kitchen with a solid thunk. Less then thirty seconds later Princess Tannen and William walked in the hall just as the door the goose had hit was flung open to show King Tannen, a large scowl on his face, standing in the doorway with a gold nightshirt that went to his knees.
"What's going on out here?" he roared, stepping into the hall. He looked at Princess Tannen. "Explain yourself, princess," he said in a low voice.
Princess Tannen stepped forward, her face pale. "You see father," she began and stopped.
"Yes?" King Tannen asked, sounding like he was really about to loose his temper. Marty wished that he was at least standing so he could run if things got violent, but he did not move at all, afraid that King Tannen might turn all his rage on him.
"What we were doing father, is getting some food together to give to all the peasants for Christmas," Princess Tannen said softly, and looked up with her father. "Could you understand that?"
"No!" King Tannen shouted. "I believe that you are trying to cover up the fact that you and this Robin Hood person were trying to run away together!"
"What?" Marty exclaimed, not believing what he heard.
"Father!" Princess Tannen cried indignantly. "Give me credit for having better taste than that!" Out of the corner of his eye, Marty saw William take a few steps back until he was hidden in the shadows, then turn and run out the door. Marty didn't blame him. King Tannen continued to swing his gaze of disgust at both him and Princess Tannen, not showing one sign that he ever saw William in the first place.
King Tannen was silent for a minute, then looked at his daughter. "You both do a bad job of fibbing," he said finally, still scowling. "Marian, go to your room. You shall stay in there all day tomorrow, packing for the wedding with Daniel. As for you," King Tannen said, glaring down at Marty, "you shall spend the night in the dungeon. The rats there love company. Guards!" he shouted, grinning with what looked like pleasure. Two big, mean looking men with swords drawn came running down to King Tannen.
"Father, you are making a big mistake," Princess Tannen cried, stepping over and looking him in the eyes. "We were not running away together!"
"Sure, you were taking food out of the kitchen in the dead of night with Robin Hood for the peasants," King Tannen said sarcastically. "Do you really expect me to believe that?" Without waiting for an answer, he pointed to Marty and said to the guards, "Take him to the dungeon, then come up here and bring all the food back that is outside."
The guards grabbed Marty's arms and pulled him to his feet. Marty didn't resist, remembering reading somewhere that if people tried to escape getting sent to the dungeon, they would be killed on the spot. The guards dragged him through what seemed like miles of halls before they descended a curved stairway that was lit by only one or two torches. After a minute of going down, there was a small, narrow hall that led to a room that had two dungeons at opposite ends of the room. One of the guards who had been carrying a lit torch with him went over and lit all the torches in the room.
"Get on in here," one guard said, shoving Marty into the cell that had a barred window.
The other guard, the one with the torch, chuckled as he shut and locked the iron barred door. "Good luck surviving the night," he said, grinning wickedly as he and his friend walked out of the room. Marty heard their footsteps slowly go up the stairs, a door slam, then silence.
A rustling from one corner of his cell caught his attention. Turning around, Marty saw a plump rat dash from a moldy pile of hay that lay under the small glassless window and vanish in a shadowy corner. Marty pulled his cloak tighter around him and sighed. He was getting used to all the rats that lived here. But not used to the cold. Marty imagined that normally, the dungeon was probably dripping water on the sides. But since it was below freezing, there were icicles hanging from the ceiling.
The torches gave off enough light so that Marty could see most of his cell. Their were four stone walls, one of which had a rusted iron barred door built into it. The stone floor was covered with a green, slimy substance. A small hole with bars in it, supposed to be a window, was parallel to the door. The cell was completely empty except for the pile of moldy hay.
"Cheery," Marty muttered, leaning against the wall and sliding down until he was sitting. He looked at his watch and saw that it was almost two fifteen. Some quick meeting. Marty rubbed his forehead, which was beginning to hurt more. Exactly what time did King Tannen plan on letting him go? What if he couldn't get back to the house in time and Doc discover that he was missing?
Marty hugged his knees to his chest, mostly for warmth. This dungeon was freezing. He wondered if he would still be alive by the time morning came.
Marian Tannen
Saturday, December 21, 1285
10:46 A.M.
Doc Brown looked at Verne in disbelief. "He did what?" Doc exclaimed, his eyes narrowing.
"Just what I said," Verne replied shrugging. "Marty snuck out of here around one thirty in the morning, saying that he had to meet someone. That was the last I saw of him."
Doc walked over to the window, looked out, and sighed, trying not to panic. He should have told Marty about the strict curfew laws and the robbers and murderers who roamed the streets at night, searching for victims.
"Who could he know now?" he said, half to himself. "It is not as if he has old friends that he visits all the time here."
"Maybe he decided to visit the Tannens," Jules suggested, seated next to Verne on the cushioned bench. "He did, after all, meet them. Perhaps they invited him to do something."
Verne snorted. "The Tannens? Get real," he said, sounding disgusted. "Throughout time Tannens have been the exact same. Mean, bullies, jerks, you name it!"
Jules turned to glare at his brother. "I was just trying to help."
"Boys, this is no time to fight," Clara said, looking at Doc in concern. "We have to figure out where Marty may have gone."
"And if he's still alive," Verne said under his breath. Doc turned sharply to look at him, then sighed.
"I hope that nothing happened to him," Doc whispered, turning to look out the window again. In the distance, the top of Tannen castle was visible. Doc wondered if Marty was indeed there.
The sound of metal scraping against stone echoed in the dim cell. Marty lifted his head up from where it had been resting on his folded arms and looked at the guard that was pulling the door open. "King Tannen wants to see you," he said, holding the door open.
Marty got slowly to his feet, keeping one hand against the wall for balance. He closed his eyes for a minute, trying to steady himself. His head pounded and their was no doubt about being dizzy now. Taking deep breaths didn't help at all. It just made his chest hurt, for some reason. But after a moment the dizziness passed, leaving Marty feeling drained.
"Why does he want to see me?" he asked, his voice hoarse. As soon as Marty was near enough, the guard grabbed his arm and held the sword at his back.
"Walk with me and don't try escaping, then you will come out with your throat in one piece," the guard hissed, pushing him up the long curved stairway. Marty followed the orders, trying to ignore the sword that was poking him in the back and also trying to ignore how rotten he felt. His head hurt, along with his throat, and every time he took a breath, his chest felt like something was pressing down on it. Occasionally it would give a sharp pain if Marty took in a quick breath, or deep ones. He hoped that there was nothing wrong. Marty was sure that nothing could be worse then getting sick in the middle ages, especially now that both time machines were broken.
After the stairs ended, the guard pushed him through another maze of endless halls until they reached a huge room with a high ceiling and a long red carpet that led to a tall carved wooden throne that King Tannen was sitting in. The room was decorated with lots of tapestries that looked like they were made out of silk, very rare in the Middle Ages, Marty remembered. A stained glass window was set behind the throne. The sun was behind it at the moment, casting warm pools of red, green, blue, and gold on the stone floor.
"You may release him, Sedgwick," King Tannen said, wearing a long red velvet robe that was trimmed with white fur. The guard nodded and stepped back.
"Robin Hood," King Tannen said slowly, leaning toward Marty. "What is your work?"
"What is my work?" Marty repeated, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
King Tannen rolled his eyes. "What do you do for a living? Your job!"
"My job?" Marty asked, thinking hard for a moment. "I help my...uncle. With his business."
"And what might he be doing?" King Tannen asked, leaning on one of the arms of the chair and looking bored.
"He's a blacksmith, sir," Marty replied, dying to look at his watch and see the time, but was afraid that it might cause suspicion, especially if King Tannen saw that the watch was from 700 years in the future. The last time he had looked at it, the time was 10:30AM. There would be no doubt that Doc would know that he had left.
"I see," King Tannen said. He stared at Marty for another minute, looking thoughtful. Suddenly, he turned to the guard and motioned him over. After King Tannen whispered something to him, the guard turned and hurried out of the room. King Tannen turned back to Marty.
"I am not an unfair man," he said, slowly grinning. "If you would have come to me and asked me about wedding my daughter, the princess, I might have considered." He paused for a moment, then chuckled. "Never mind that. I would not have considered. You would have been thrown out of here so fast, it would make your head spin."
"I never wanted to marry your daughter!" Marty exclaimed, feeling frustrated that King Tannen didn't believe that.
King Tannen scowled. "Do not lie, or I might decide to sent you back in the dungeon with the rats. And you should know by now that that is not pleasant."
Marty nodded and swallowed hard. The night was still far too fresh in his head. The freezing cold and the rats that, after the guards had left and it had grown quiet, spent the whole time crawling and running all over the cell. Marty wondered if part of the reason he was feeling so bad was because he had stayed up the whole night and watched the time pass slowly. Plus, he was afraid that if he fell asleep, rats would crawl all over him. Just the thought of that made Marty shudder.
"Now then," King Tannen began again, "if you want to wed my Marian, you must do what any other man would do."
"And what is that?" Marty asked, deciding to play along.
"Father," a voice called from the hall, "what do you want?"
King Tannen smiled. "Robin Hood, I'd like you to meet my son, Prince Harley Tannen. He and Marian are twins."
A young man, looking exactly like a younger version of King Tannen, walked into the room. He was frowning and looked irritated, like he didn't want to be there.
"What do you want with me?" Prince Tannen asked, sounding impatient.
"This is the deal," King Tannen said, looking at Marty. "You and Harley, the day after the morrow, will fight a tournament. If he wins, Marian must marry Daniel Covington, as arranged. If you win, you may marry her." King Tannen laughed. "In fact, if you win I shall let my Marian wed whoever she wishes!"
Prince Harley Tannen looked at Marty for the first time. Standing up straighter, he smiled. "Don't worry Father, Marian will be a Covington," he said confidently, looking up at King Tannen. Father and Son exchanged grins.
"The tournament shall take place on Monday, on the noon hour, at the commons. Be prepared to show your fencing, archery, and jousting skills. The one who wins the two out of the three skills shall win the tournament and the direct the fate of Marian." King Tannen waved his hand. "You may leave, Robin Hood. Sedgwick shall show you out."
At the sound of his name, the guard that had taken Marty from the dungeon appeared next to him again and pulled him out of the room, to the big wooden door that Marian had led him to the day before. Sedgwick opened the door and gestured outside. "You are free to go," he said.
As soon as he stepped outside, the guard slammed the doors shut and Marty heard the sound of something being scraped against the doors. He shrugged and began to walk quickly back to Doc's house, realizing that the sun was shining in a clear blue sky which was causing the snow to melt. Already the slate roofs of the houses were beginning to show through patches of slushy snow.
Marty wasn't even twenty feet near the house when the door was flung open and Doc ran out, his face contorted with worry. "Marty, where have you been?" Doc cried, taking his arm and pulling him toward the house. "We've been thinking all sorts of things!"
"It's is a long story," Marty told him, sighing. "I need your help."
Doc looked at him carefully. "On what? Is it something that should not be tampered with?"
"I don't know," Marty replied honestly. "Do you know anything about the original history of Princess Marian Tannen, Daniel Covington, or William Gardener?"
"No, but we can easily find out," Doc said as they walked into the house. "First, tell me where you have been for the past ten hours, then I will answer your question."
"When I met the Tannen's, Princess Tannen gave me a letter with instructions to give it to someone named William Gardener," Marty began. "As it turned out, the Gardeners lived right next door."
"That is why you asked about them earlier?" Doc asked him, raising an eyebrow.
Marty nodded. "I know that you've told me tons of times that I shouldn't mess with history, but what if originally Princess Tannen gave the letter to someone else and they gave it to William? I knew that if I didn't give it to him, I might mess something up, so I went over there to give it to William. But as it turned out, the letter said that I had to go with William when he met Princess Tannen so they could run away together, since King Tannen had it planned out that Princess Tannen was going to marry someone named Daniel Covington, and she didn't want to."
Doc was beginning to look confused, but Marty didn't stop. "So I went with William to meet Princess Tannen. I guess she wanted me to help load up their wagon, because that was what I did the whole time. I was carrying a goose out when I stepped on a rat, and the goose flew out of my arms and hit a door, which turned out to be King Tannen's room. He never saw William, so he thought that his daughter and I were trying to elope, instead of William and Princess Tannen. Then I was sent to the dungeon and kept there until after ten thirty. Then King Tannen said that the day after tomorrow I have to fight his son, Prince Harley Tannen, in a tournament of jousting, archery, and fencing to see if Princess Tannen can marry anyone she wants to, or Daniel Covington. And that is what has happened to me."
Doc shook his head. "You've had quite a night," he commented, heading for the back room. "I am certainly glad that we can find out how history went originally for those people."
"How can you find that out?" Marty asked, following him. "This happened so long ago."
"Simple," Doc said, bending over a box and pulling something out. It looked like a computer the size of a calculator.
"What is that?" Marty asked, leaning over to get a closer look at it.
"This is a computer I got in the future right before we left 1985 and programed in the family trees of everyone who knows about the time machines," Doc explained, flicking a switch at the back and making the screen light up. "In other words, I have yours, Clara's and my family trees entered in here."
"So how is this going to help us find out about people none of us are related to?" Marty wondered.
Doc typed in something and names connected with a maze of lines appeared. "This is your family tree from 1000 to 1500." He pointed to something on the screen. "Notice anything familiar?"
Marty looked to where Doc was pointing. The name James Cooper was connected to Mary Parker. A line went down from them to their children David Cooper, Elizabeth Cooper, Noel Cooper, and Alice Cooper. According to the years of birth and death, only David and Alice lived past the age of 9. Both had married, David to a Anne Parkington, and Alice to a Midas Tannen. Marty blinked, not believing his eyes. But the names remained.
"One of my ancestors married a Tannen?" he asked, his voice rising with shock and disbelief .
Doc nodded. "Apparently so. But the side of your family that your mother came from is David and Anne. Harley Tannen died from going off to the Crusades, six years from now. Right before leaving he married and had a son. This probably why Tannens are still around. But Marian died in childbirth, with the firstborn."
Marty shook his head, still in shock. A Tannen, related to him! "Is this the original history?"
"Yes. The first time around, it says that Marian married William Gardener. They went through with the elopement, and King Tannen cut her out of the family. It became that as far as he was concerned, no Marian Tannen ever existed."
"So, I'll have to fight in the tournament, and win?"
"You must." Doc said firmly. "If you don't, then Marian will wed this Daniel Covington, and that may tamper with someone else's future. And if you do and Marian weds William Gardener, perhaps her father will not disown her and it will make both of their lives happier."
"Doc, I don't know anything about jousting, archery, or fencing!" Marty cried out, exasperated. "How am I supposed to beat Prince Tannen, who's an expert, on this stuff?"
"Don't worry," Doc assured him, holding up a hand. "One of the reasons that we came here for a vacation was because Jules and Verne were interested in learning those kind of things. Since we ended up stuck here for a while, they've become quite the experts at jousting, archery, and fencing."
"Do you mean to tell me that an eight and ten year old are going to teach me how to fight with swords, shoot arrows, and knock someone off a horse with a long pole?" Marty asked incredulously.
"It's called a lance," Doc corrected, "and yes, the boys can teach you. There is an empty field a few blocks away. It is where they hold the tournaments, so you can get used to the area and terrain."
"But Doc, what if I don't win? What will we do then?"
Doc got that stubborn glint in his eye that Marty recognized from whenever they were faced with the near impossible, like getting the DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour by a train, or arranging it so that in 1955, lightning could be captured for the flux capacitor to send the car back to the future.
"Don't worry about that. We have two days for you to become an expert at those skills. We've been faced with worse." Doc turned and left the room, taking the calculator thing with him. Marty looked at where the DeLorean sat, still covered with the drop cloth. He put a hand to his head, which was still throbbing, and sighed.
"Yeah, but everything we've faced before has been scientific," he muttered. What if he did mess up? Doc's calculations couldn't help him now. Marty just hoped that maybe he would end up being halfway decent at jousting, fencing, and archery. After all, he only needed to win two out of the three. How hard could it be?
Saturday, December 21, 1285
2:57 P.M.
"Try to hit me," Verne said, holding up the silvery sword.
Marty picked the other sword that was lying on the ground and gasped. "How can you hold these? They're so heavy!"
Verne shrugged. "Lots of practice, I guess."
"I can hold them too," Jules said, standing a few feet away. "It gets easier when you fence many times. The muscles in your arms grow stronger. Many people don't know that fencing-"
"Thank you very much, Mr. Encyclopedia," Verne interrupted, "but we don't have to know all that. Pop said that we had to teach Marty all the basics of fencing, not the history!"
"Fine, go ahead," Jules muttered. "I bet you don't even know what the winner gets to do to the looser."
"Yes I do! They get to cut off there heads!" Verne cried out.
"Can we please get back to the original purpose for being here?" Marty asked them, feeling uneasy. What exactly did Verne mean by saying that the looser in fencing got his head cut off? "If I have to get good at this, then we better start practicing."
"Okay," Verne said, shrugging. He lifted the sword up. "Unguard!" he cried, holding the sword out.
Marty held his sword up awkwardly. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked.
Verne rolled his eyes. "Just block my sword from hitting you," he replied. "And try to knock it out of my hand."
Marty did as Verne told him and almost immediately, Verne knocked the sword a good five feet away from where Marty was standing.
"How did you do that?" Marty breathed, looking between the sword and Verne in amazement.
"Easy," Verne replied. "You weren't expecting it. You have to also make sure that your sword is not in a weak position."
"Most people's weak spots are in the wrist," Jules added. "It takes time to learn the proper handling of the sword."
"But we have only two days!" Marty exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "We don't have that much time!"
"Let's try fencing tomorrow then," Verne suggested. He dropped the sword to the ground and went over to pick up the bow and arrows that they had brought for archery. "Let's do this."
There was a wooden board already nailed to a tree with a red and white bulls eyes painted on. Hundreds of holes from previous arrows were embedded in the wood.
"Archery is the most scientific of these skills," Jules announced, taking a bow and arrow out of the bag and stepping back ten feet from the target. "All you need to know is the correct angle to shoot the arrow in, taking into account the wind speed and the weight of the arrow."
"Yeah, but you need luck too," Verne added, grabbing the bow and arrow out of his brother's hands and shooting it. The arrow struck the edge of the last ring of the target.
"You could be hung for that," Jules stated. "Now let me show you how an expert would do it."
Taking another bow an arrow out of the bag, Jules put the arrow on the string and stretched it tight, eyes narrowed in concentration and holding it like that for almost a minute, turning a bit to adjust the position before letting it go. The arrow hurtled toward the target and came within two inches of the bulls-eye.
"You were saying?" Jules asked his brother, smirking.
"Luck," Verne muttered, frowning.
"Why don't you try it now," Jules suggested, handing Marty his bow, and a new arrow for the bag. "It could help if you aim for the tree branch that is suspended over the target."
Marty put the bow string in the niche that was at the end of the arrow and pulled it back until it was stretched as far as it could go. He leaned back and aimed it up at the tree branch, then let it go. The arrow headed straight for the tree branch and embedded itself in it, the force causing some of the remaining snow that had been on the branch to fall to the ground with a splat.
"That wasn't exactly what I meant," Jules said slowly, as the three of them gazed up where the arrow had stuck. "Perhaps you should aim a tad bit lower."
Verne handed Marty another arrow and this time, when he tried aiming directly at the bulls-eye, the arrow hit the tree trunk right above the target. After six more times of trying various ways of aiming the arrow, it finally hit the target.
"You are the kind of person who needs to aim low to get the arrow high," Jules stated when Marty found that aiming at the tree root let him get close to a bulls-eye. "Try it a few more times and we can see if this one time was not a fluke."
The 'few more times' turned out to be fifteen before both boys were satisfied that Marty could shoot a decent arrow. "Now," Verne announced, getting the bows and arrows together and putting them back in the bag, "it's time to do the most difficult, jousting."
"Can't we do that tomorrow?" Marty asked with a yawn, leaning against the tree. The only thing he wanted to do was get back to the house, and go to bed. Maybe all he needed was some sleep and he wouldn't feel sick anymore.
"We could do the fencing today, then joust tomorrow," Jules suggested. "That way, we have all day tomorrow to do the most difficult skill."
"Fine," Marty sighed, knowing that it would be almost impossible to get them to change their minds to go home now.
The swords were picked up again and this time, Jules and Verne did a demonstration while Marty stood and watched, a few feet away. It took close to five minutes of the swords clanging against each other before Verne emerged the winner.
"I'm better than you," Verne sung out, stabbing an invisible opponent in the air in front of him as his brother retrieved his sword.
"In this perhaps," Jules replied calmly. "But I am the expert at archery."
Verne rolled his eyes. "Oh, put a cork in it," he said, then grinned. "Hey, since I won, does that mean I get to chop off your head?"
"I don't think so," Jules told his brother firmly, handing Marty his sword. "Remember, keep your hand tight around the sword, thrust and block as much as possible."
"I'll try my best," Marty said seriously. He stepped up and was lifting the sword up when he began to cough suddenly. The sword dropped to the ground as he put a hand to his chest and struggled to catch his breath. It took almost a minute before Marty was able to quit coughing. His chest felt like it was on fire and taking short light breaths didn't help to ease the pain in the least.
Jules and Verne were staring at him. "Are you okay?" Verne asked, sounding worried.
"I'm fine," Marty replied softly, afraid to raise his voice and having another coughing fit.
"Maybe we should quit for the day," Jules said slowly, bending over and picking the sword up where Marty had dropped it. "You look kind of tired."
"That's an understatement," Marty whispered under his breath.
"Fine, we can go. But that will mean twice as much work tomorrow," Verne agreed reluctantly. He put the sword in it's iron case that was lying on the ground near his feet.
"I won't mind," Marty replied in a low voice. He went over and picked the up the bag with all the archery stuff in it and slung it over one shoulder. "Let's go."
"Prepare to lift," Doc Brown said to Clara, his hands buried in the prickly branches of a fir tree.
"I'm ready when you are," Clara replied, arms wrapped around the tree's trunk.
"On the count of three, lift and push," Doc told her, looking into the main room. "We only have three more steps to maneuver. One...two...three...lift!"
Doc and Clara pushed the tree into the main room, a few twiggy branches snapping off as they brushed against the door frame. "Where shall we set it up," Clara asked breathlessly.
Doc looked around the room. "How about in the corner next to the table," he suggested.
Clara nodded. "That'll be fine." The both of them lugged the tree over to the corner, then set it down with a thunk. At that moment, Doc heard the door open downstairs, voices, then the door slam shut again. "Hello, where is everybody?" Verne yelled from downstairs.
"We're up here," Clara called back. "We have a surprise for all of you." A second later, Verne, followed by Jules, ran into the room. "What is it?" he asked, looking around.
"Have you repaired the DeLorean?" Jules asked hopefully.
Doc shook his head. "Not yet, but I was planning on getting started tonight, with Marty's help. Where is he?"
"Right here," Marty said, climbing up the last step and into the room. "What's going on?"
"We thought it would be nice, since we will probably be spending Christmas here, to get a Christmas tree," Clara told all of them, smiling and gesturing to the tree in the corner.
"That's the surprise?" Verne asked, looking disappointed.
"Yes. Don't you like it?" Clara asked, her face falling a bit. "We even brought the decorations."
"Of course we like it, Mother," Jules said, shooting his brother a look. "We just weren't expecting it, that's all."
"You boys can help your mother decorate the tree while Marty and I start repairing the DeLorean," Doc announced, heading for the stairs.
"But Doc, I was going to-" Marty started, but Doc cut him off.
"I really need your help with getting all the tools and spare parts together. All I need you to do is read out the name of whatever tool or part is on the list, then check it off when I find it. It's not that hard," he added quickly.
Marty glanced back at the dark doorways at the other end of the room, sighed, then looked over at Doc. "Fine, I'll do it," he said reluctantly, then coughed.
Doc looked at him, concerned. "You aren't getting sick, are you?" he asked, noticing for the first time that Marty looked a little pale.
"I'm fine," Marty snapped. "Could we get started, please," he added softly.
Doc frowned. "Sure," he said slowly. "It shouldn't take that long, you know."
"That's good," Marty replied softly, turning around and going back down the stairs. Doc looked at Jules and Verne, who were going over to the tree and starting to unpack the box of Christmas tree decorations.
"How did the practicing go?" he asked them.
"We got the archery down, but we're going to do the other stuff tomorrow," Verne said, lifting a reindeer ornament out of the box.
"We'll need the horses and the other accessories for the jousting tomorrow," Jules added, pulling out several fancy candles in holders that were decorated with Christmas tree drawings.
"That won't be a problem." Doc left the room and went down the stairs and into the back room where the DeLorean was. Marty was bent over the desk, lighting some candles.
"Where do we start?" he asked Doc, turning around with one of the candles in hand, leaving the other ones on the desk.
"First, we take the tarp off the DeLorean and open it up, seeing which materials we would need to fix the windshield. When that's done, we'll gather the materials for repairing the flux capacitor, then we'll be done for today."
"Where's the checklist that I have to use?" Marty asked, setting the candle down on the table again, then stepping over to the car to help lift the tarp off.
"It's over on the desk, in the clipboard," Doc explained, taking the edge of the tarp and tugging it off with Marty's assistance.
"You really think that you can fix this?" Marty asked doubtfully as he picked up the clipboard, pointing to the scrambled mess that had once been the flux capacitor that was on the table.
"You brought all the parts I need," Doc said. "I should be able to fix it then. You can sit in the car while we do this, if you want. You don't have to stand."
Marty gave a small smile. "Thanks," he said, sounding relieved. He picked up the candle again and opened the driver side door, setting the candle on the time circuit switch box before sitting down.
"So, what is the first item on the list?" Doc inquired, bringing his candle over to the table next to the pile of boxes.
"A screwdriver," Marty answered, looking down at the checklist.
Doc went over to the tool box and pulled the screwdriver out in less than a minute. "Got it," he called back.
"Check," Marty replied. "The next one is a box of bolts."
Doc found that one quickly and the pile of materials for each different repair started to grow. Between the two different piles was a heap of things that both the window and the flux capacitor would need to be fixed.
"Hydrometer," Marty told Doc half an hour after they started, checking off the glass plate that was for the flux capacitor. The boxes were almost empty, so Doc knew that they were almost finished. Nevertheless, it took him almost five minutes of digging around before he found the hydrometer, an instrument that was used for measuring the exact gravity of liquids and would be used in the flux capacitor's repair.
"Check," Doc announced, holding up the hydrometer, then turning and setting down in the flux capacitor repair pile. "What's next?"
Scanning the boxes, Doc waited for the next item. When two minutes passed and Marty didn't say anything, Doc wondered if Marty hadn't heard him. "What is the next thing on the list?" he repeated.
Another minute passed. Frowning, Doc turned around, went over to the DeLorean, and peered in. "What is the next - " he began, then stopped.
Marty had his eyes closed and was leaning back against the seat. He was hugging the clipboard to his chest and his breathing was slow and sounded slightly raspy. Doc carefully leaned over him and picked the candle up off of the time circuit switch. As he brought it back toward him, Doc stopped and lifted the candle up so that it was directly in front of Marty's eyes. After holding it there for a minute and not seeing even the flicker of an eyelash, Doc moved it back toward him. He sighed and set the candle down on the hood of the car. Only a few more materials were left and it wasn't essential for Marty to help anymore, but Doc couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
Doc leaned back in the car and gently pulled the clipboard out of Marty's arms. Doc half expected Marty to wake up, but he didn't even move. Doc frowned, still having the feeling that something was not quite right. He thought for a moment about anything that could have caused that feeling, but found nothing. Doc shrugged as he took the pencil off the dashboard and checked off the hydrometer. Everything was fine. He was probably just worried about fixing the time machines and the tournament on Thursday. Doc looked at Marty once again in the car. Hopefully nothing serious would happen. Doc hoped that Marty would be able to defend himself against Harley Tannen. It was common knowledge around here that Prince Harley Tannen had killed hundreds of men in tournaments. He was known to be an expert. It would take lots of luck if Marty could win the tournament. And Doc had this awful feeling that they were running out of that.
Sunday, December 22, 1285
11:06 A.M.
As soon as Marty opened his eyes, he was aware of four things. One, he felt worse than he did yesterday. Two, he was in the driver's seat of the DeLorean. Three, there were several heavy quilts piled on top of him. And four, someone was pounding on the window.
"I'm awake, I'm awake," Marty muttered under his breath, pushing the quilts off and reaching to open the door. As he did so, an edge of one of the quilts caught on the time circuit switch and pulled it on. As soon as Marty heard the beep that meant the time circuits had been switched on, he twisted around and looked at the time display, expecting to see nothing but a blank screen, since the flux capacitor was broken. But instead it was lit up like it normally would have done. The display read December 22, 1285, 11:07AM, Mountain Crest, England. The red light, which appeared when a new time was achieved, was on so the time machine had obviously not been re-set since coming here the first time.
"Come on, open the door!" Verne yelled, pressing his face against the window and looking in. "You already know where and when we are, and we have to start practicing the jousting and fencing!"
Marty pulled his eyes from the display screen and reached over, turning the time circuit switch off. The display screen went dark and Marty opened the door, pushing it up and stepping out of the car.
"It's about time," Verne muttered, leaning on the hood of the DeLorean. "We haven't got all day you know."
"Why don't we?" Marty asked as he shut the gull wing door. He coughed, his throat dry and still sore. His chest gave him a bolt of pain as Marty tried taking a deep breath after he quit coughing. What was wrong with him? On top of the usual pains, now he was freezing cold.
"Well, we do I guess. But fencing and jousting are hard and the more time we have to practice, the better." Verne started walking toward the door. "Jules is waiting for us in front of the house. Come on."
Marty paused to cover the DeLorean with the drop cloth before following Verne out of the room and outside. Doc, who was doing some blacksmith work with a horseshoe, looked up as he passed. "Good luck in the practice," he called out, placing the glowing orange horseshoe in a bucket of water with some tongs. Steam rose up and the water sizzled.
Marty went over to the glowing coals and stuck his hands over them. The heat did nothing to penetrated the chill that seemed to come from inside him. "Do you have any warmer cloaks that I could wear, or maybe some sweaters," he asked Doc. "I'm freezing."
Doc lifted the now silver colored horseshoe out of the water and stared at Marty strangely. "How can you possible be cold? You are standing in one of the hottest places to be in this town."
Marty kept his eyes fixed on the fiery red coals. "I don't know, I'm just really cold, even standing next to these hot coals."
Doc looked at him, his eyes narrowed. "Maybe you shouldn't go out today. You look pale," he said slowly.
Marty stepped away from the hearth. "Doc, relax, I'm fine," he replied firmly, knowing that he was anything but that but not want to worry Doc any more than he already was. "I'm a little cold, that's all. Now, I have to go and master the art of jousting and fencing so that I can let Princess Tannen marry William Gardener." Marty turned and headed out the front door, ignoring the wave of dizziness that hit him as he did so. He had an awful feeling that he was coming down with more than the common cold.
It was almost four thirty when Jules and Verne decided that Marty was good enough to defend himself against Prince Tannen. "It will still be amazing if you beat him though. Prince Harley Tannen is the tournament champion in four towns," Verne explained as he threw the swords, shields, lances, and other equipment that had been used during the day in the back of the wagon.
"Really?" Marty commented, fumbling with the harness that hooked the horse up to the wagon. Though nothing remained of the snow except for piles of slush and the sun had been shining brightly in the sky the whole day, Marty still hadn't been able to get any warmer than he had been in the morning. Even with all the exercise. The fencing practice had gone on for almost two hours before Marty had been able to knock the sword out of Verne's hand.
The jousting was worse. At least with fencing you were on stable ground and did not get knocked off the horse two dozen times. But eventually Marty had been able to hold the ten foot tall lance pole while riding, get on the horse with all the heavy metal armor, and hit the dummy that Jules and Verne had set up for practice, all without falling off. Marty knew that he had never been as sore, as tired, or felt as sick as he did now.
"It's a good thing that we were able to finish now and not later," Jules said, adjusting the bridal on the horse. "It will be dark soon."
Even as he spoke, the sun was setting and dusk was beginning to fall. The slush was beginning to freeze up into chunks of ice and the ground was getting slippery again. As they drove home, the wagon slid across the road more than it rolled. Marty was relieved when they made it home without having the horse slip and break a leg, or the wagon crash into a building.
"You can go in the house. Verne and I can put the wagon away," Jules told Marty, pointing to the front door. "We know where to put everything."
"Fine," Marty agreed, stepping down off the wagon and heading for the door. Inside it was quiet and no one appeared to be either downstairs or upstairs, at least in the front and living rooms. Upon entering the living room, Marty noticed immediately that the table and chairs that had been under the window had moved right next to the huge fireplace. In it's place was a Christmas tree, decorated with everything except for lights and gifts under it. Ornaments, old ones mixed with totally modern ones, along with some that probably came from past 1985, decorated the tree. A strand of gold and red beads was wound around the tree, along with some silver tinsel. Tiny white unlit candles in elaborate silver holders were fastened at the end of some of the branches and a bright silver star sat at the top of the tree, it's top point touching the ceiling.
Marty looked at the tree for a moment, thinking how weird it was for Christmas to be here before Thanksgiving had even come. After a few minutes, he went over to the table and sat down in the chair closest to the roaring fire. He held his palms out toward the flickering flames and after a few minutes the heat finally began to seep into his bones. Marty suddenly felt the tiredness that he had been fighting all day come over him like a thick, heavy blanket. Yawning, he lay his head down on the table, closed his eyes, and almost immediately fell sound asleep.
"Is this what you need?" Clara asked Doc, who was inside the car, preparing to repair the windshield.
Doc glanced at the hand held gas torch that Clara was holding out to him. "Yes, that's right," he told her, taking it out of her hand and setting it down on the passenger side seat. "Could you hand me the pliers now?"
Clara smiled and nodded, going over to the windshield repair pile and rummaging through it. Doc was covering the dashboard and the time circuits and wires that were under the window with an old sheet when Jules and Verne ran in.
"Hey, what are you guys doing?" Verne asked, leaning over Doc's shoulder and trying to look in.
"Your father and I are repairing the windshield," Clara answered, finding the pliers and holding them up. "Did everything go all right outside?"
"As well as could be expected with someone as inexperienced as Martin was," Jules replied, walking over to the table and looking through the piles.
"In other words, Marty has as good a chance beating Harley Tannen as much as snow could be expected in Hill Valley during August," Verne said cheerfully as he jumped up on the hood of the car and sat there, peering at Doc through the windshield.
"Get down from there," Clara said sternly as she crossed the room to hand Doc the pliers. "All it could take was for you to slip and fall on the windshield and all the glass would shatter."
"Then we would not have a windshield anymore,"Jules added, examining the glass.
"Fine, I'll get down," Verne sighed, jumping off the car. "But only because I want to go back to the future where I can have pizza and hamburgers again instead of the things that they call food here. I never thought that anything could beat cafeteria food, but medieval food wins the prize," he added, making a face.
It was almost ten minutes later when Doc realized something. "What did you boys do with Marty?" he asked Jules and Verne as they began to divide all the tools that were alike in the same piles.
"We dropped him off at the front door," Jules replied without looking up from the table. "He should be in this building somewhere. Perhaps upstairs."
Doc climbed out of the car, frowning. "You didn't see him on your way in?"
"Nope," Verne said, turning around with a pair of scissors in one hand, the point extended upward. "But then again, we came straight here and never went upstairs."
"I'm going up there," Doc said, feeling a little worried. He picked up one of the several candles that were on the desk. "Don't anyone go inside the DeLorean until I get back."
"Don't worry Father," Jules said, tossing a screwdriver on the table, then turning around. "We won't even touch the time machine."
"I'll stay here and keep an eye on them," Clara assured him, stepping forward. "Don't worry."
"I won't about that," Doc said under his breath when he was out of the room. Even if Clara hadn't been with the boys, Doc still wouldn't have worried. They knew that playing with the time machine, especially in the state it was in now, would be causing perhaps even more damage than there already was.
As Doc began to ascend the steps to the second floor, he began to feel that same, almost familiar, feeling that something was wrong. He had felt that several times before in his life, like when he and Marty had gone to the alternate 1985 during the sports almanac incident. Even before Doc had noticed that it had changed, he had this gnawing feeling that something was wrong. Just like now.
The main room was dark, except for the glow that came from Doc's candle and the fire that was in the fireplace. Dusky light filtered through the warped glass of the window, but it caused more shadows than light. Doc took a few steps in the room, then stopped and looked around. The Christmas tree sat silent next to the window, it's tinsel glittering eerily in the flickering light from candle and firelight. The cushioned bench, which Doc had constructed with some straw filled pillows set on the hard wooden seat and back, was empty. He turned toward the table and chairs that he and Clara had moved the night before, to give the tree more room. Doc sighed wh