The Island of Dr. Libris (7 page)

“Aye, marry.” He called out to Hercules: “Tell me, my fine fellow—do you seek adventure this day?”

“No. I seek only to complete my twelfth—or thirteenth—labor for my king. I have lost count and am not very good with numbers.”

“Well, then, what art thou good at, pray tell?” prodded Robin.

“Slaying monsters. Capturing bulls. Feats of super-human strength.”

Robin Hood placed one foot on the bridge.

“Then stand aside and let the better man pass.”

“No!
You
stand aside!”

Great
, thought Billy.
Now these two guys are going to fight. What kind of goofy island is this?

Hercules and Robin Hood stormed across the log bridge and met in the middle.

“I will baste thy hide right merrily!” cried Robin.

“Ha!” laughed Hercules. “No mortal man can best me.”

The two heroes started fighting on what was basically a double-wide balance beam. Robin faked like he was going to lead with his left, then whacked Hercules with his staff from the right.

Hercules didn’t flinch.

He swung at Robin Hood with his club. The hit landed hard but Robin held his ground. Robin swung again. Hercules clubbed him again. Robin swung. Hercules clubbed.

Swing.

Club.

Swing.

Club.

And so it went.

For ten minutes.

Grunting and grumbling, the two men exchanged blow after blow, neither giving an inch.

“This might go on all day,” said Maid Marian, setting herself down on a large rock. “It usually doth.”

“Um, you guys?” Billy finally shouted. “The Sheriff of Nottingham might hear you if you keep whacking and thwacking each other like that. So maybe one of you should hurry up and fall into the river. Probably you, Robin Hood, because no way are you stronger than Hercules.”

The instant Billy said this, Hercules caught Robin’s oaken staff in his free hand and flipped Robin off the bridge and into the river.

“Ha! Where are you now, you boastful mortal?” said Hercules, standing triumphantly astride the bridge.

“Why, he is in the river!” cried Maid Marian, doubling over with laughter.

“I am also quite wet,” Robin Hood said cheerfully. “Good sir, you didst beat me fair and square.”

“Give me your hand.” Hercules reached down and hauled Robin out of the stream. “You are a good fighter. My head is still buzzing from your many manly blows.”

“And thou art a stouthearted lad!”

“So, um, why don’t you ask him to join your band of merry men?” suggested Billy.

“Merry
people
,” Marian gently corrected as she rose
off the rock. “Speak, Hercules. Wouldst thou throw in with us?”

Hercules turned to Billy. “What do you think?”

“It beats shoveling horse poop for that crazy king with the weird name.”

“You are wise, little friend. Very well, Robin. Today I shall become one of your merry people!”

“And thou, Sir William of Goat?” asked Maid Marian. “Will thou join us as well?”

“Really?” said Billy. “You guys want
me
?”

Billy was sort of shocked. In gym class, nobody ever wanted him on their team.

“Please join our merry band,” said Marian.

“Aye, marry,” added Robin.

“Okay. Cool. I’d
love
to be on your team.”

And that was when the Sheriff of Nottingham rode in on a giant black horse.

“Ah-ha!” cried the sheriff so loudly it spooked his stallion. “I have found thee!”

Robin turned to Billy and whispered, “Thou spoketh most true. Our whacking and thwacking did reveal our hiding place.”

Maid Marian propped her hands on her hips and glowered at the sheriff. “You wouldst dare enter Sherwood Forest?”

“Oh, indeed I wouldst. In truth, I wouldst travel to the very ends of the earth to see you two lawless scoundrels brought to justice!”

The sheriff was a bony, sour-looking grouch dressed all in black. He sat slumped in his saddle making a face like he hadn’t enjoyed whatever he’d just eaten for lunch. His horse, also completely black, was even nastier-looking—especially when it flared its enormous nostrils.

“You there! Boy!” The sheriff wagged a gloved finger at Billy. “What be thy name?”

Hercules strode forward to put his mammoth body between Billy and the sheriff, while Robin slid an arrow out of his quiver and nocked it to his bowstring. Meanwhile, Marian had her right hand hovering over her dagger.

“This is Billy of the goats that are gruff,” said Hercules.

“He is known far and wide as the noble Sir William of Goat,” added Robin.

“He is our new friend,” said Marian.

“I see,” the sheriff said with a smirk. “And didst my ears deceive me, Sir William, or didst thou just now declare thyself to be an ally to outlaws such as these?”

Billy gulped. “Maybe.”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha!” laughed Robin. “Of course he did!”

The sheriff reined his horse to the left so he could prance sideways and glare at Billy.

“Take care, Sir William!” cried the sheriff. “ ’Tis treason to join this band of thieves. Treason, I say!”

For some reason, Billy nodded. “Okay. Thanks for the heads-up, sir.”

“So you confess to being a traitor?” The sheriff swiftly pulled his sword out of its scabbard. “Then by the power vested in me by His Majesty King John, I hereby sentence thee to death!”

“Flee, Sir William!” cried Robin.

Marian whipped out her small dagger and hurled it, end over end, straight at the sheriff.

The blade hit its mark, spearing the black-hearted villain in the meaty part of his left leg.

“Curses and foul language!” the sheriff screamed as he plucked the knife out of his thigh and writhed in pain.

“Run, Billy!” shouted Hercules. “Run!”

“Take thy leave before thou diest!” added Marian.

Diest?

She didn’t have to say that twice.

Billy took off like he had rockets in his shoes.

Billy was totally out of breath when he reached the lagoon.

Yes, he wanted to figure out how characters from books could spring to life on the island. On the other hand, he also didn’t want to “diest.”

But was that even possible?

Could a make-believe sheriff chop off Billy’s head with a make-believe sword?

And by the way—had Billy just rewritten literary history and turned Hercules into one of Robin Hood’s merry outlaws?

Billy could see Dr. Libris’s cabin in the distance. As he was about to climb into the rowboat, he noticed a bright green bottle bobbing in the water near its stern.

There was a rolled-up piece of paper tucked inside the corked bottle.

A message in a bottle?

Billy wondered if somebody in Dr. Libris’s study was reading a book about shipwrecks.

He listened for the sounds of thundering hooves coming up the trail behind him.

There were none.

The Sheriff of Nottingham wasn’t chasing after him.

Billy had time to see what was up with the bobbing green bottle.

He snatched it out of the water, yanked out the cork, and quickly unfurled the message, which looked like a pirate had written it:

On this island, you shall find great treasure.

Treasure?

Okay. This was extremely interesting.

Had Dr. Libris hidden some kind of treasure somewhere on his island?

If so, did the law of “finders keepers, losers weepers” apply?

Because if Billy could find the gold or jewels or winning Mega Millions Lotto cards—whatever treasure Dr. Libris had hidden on his island—he could buy himself a new iPhone. He could also pay for some of his father’s silly toys and maybe get his mom a bunch of those blueberry pies she said she liked so much.

If Billy found the island’s treasure, if the Gillfoyles suddenly had a ton of money, his mom and dad would have nothing to argue about, because they’d be rich!

Billy climbed into the boat and rowed as hard and as fast as he could back across the lake toward the cabin.

He thought about books that might help him on his treasure quest. Maybe
Treasure Island
by Robert Louis Stevenson or Mark Twain’s
Tom Sawyer.
Billy had read
Tom Sawyer
in school. Tom and his friends were always hunting for treasure.

He’d figure out a way to deal with the sheriff, but in the meantime, he was going to need a shovel.

Since you basically row a boat backward, Billy was still facing the island as he struggled with the oars. After what felt like forever, he finally heard the sound of waves slapping against dock pilings.

“Beware!” someone shouted behind him. “I’m about to somnificate you!”

Billy twisted around and saw a kid in a polo shirt and baggy cargo shorts. The boy was standing on Dr. Libris’s dock and waving his arms around like a goofy magician.

“I’m casting a slumber spell! You are sleepy, very sleepy!”

“What?”

“I’m playing my Junior Wizard card!”

“Huh?”

“It’s from my Magical Battical deck!”

The boy showed Billy a crinkled card.

“Cool,” said Billy. “I think some kids at my school play that game.”

“Hey, did you row your boat all the way out to the island?”

“Yeah.”

“That is so awesome.” The boy stuffed the trading card back into his baggy pants. “I’m not very good at boat rowing. So what’s your name?”

“Billy.”

“Yeah. I knew that. Alyssa told me. I’m not very good at keeping secrets, either.”

“Are you Alyssa’s brother?”

“Yep. I’m Walter.”

“Here, Walter.” Billy tossed up his nylon line. “Tie me off to that post.”

“Really? You want me to tie up your rowboat?”

“Yeah. On that piling.”

“Okay. I’m not very good at knots but I’ll give it a shot.”

“Thanks,” said Billy as he crawled onto the dock.

“There we go,” said Walter. He had looped the nylon line around and around the pier post in a tangled jumble that ended in a sloppy shoelace-style bow. “That should hold her. I hope. So, you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

Actually, Billy was starving.

“You ever been to the Red Barn?” asked Walter.

“No, but I’ve heard about it.”

“Do you like waffle fries? Because the Red Barn’s are the best.” Walter reached into another cargo shorts pocket and pulled out a bright red asthma inhaler. He took two quick puffs. “So, what’d you see out on the island?”

Billy wondered how much he should tell Walter. He seemed like a pretty nice guy, but they’d only known each other for maybe two minutes.