by Terry Deary
Kenrick pulled it out of my ready. ‘Not until we have done as my father wishes,’ he said. ‘Shall we go? I can hitch my pony to your cart and we can ride behind it.’
And so we set off to the court of the awful Offa. But first we had to face the bandits.
6
The Villains
When we reached the woods the bandits oozed out of the trees like slime from a slug trail. They blocked the road. Kenrick jumped down from the cart and spread his arms wide in welcome. ‘You must be the famous Robert the Good and his Merry Men?’
‘Famous?’ the one with red hair and freckles said. (He must have been the Walter the Red who Dad told me about.)
‘Yes, even though you are Welsh, you are real heroes in our village,’ Kenrick said with a soft whine in his voice. ‘Heroes.’
‘We are?’ the greasy greybeard one asked.
‘You are so very kind,’ Kenrick went on.
And then I understood his crafty game. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘You steal from the rich to give to the poor, they say.’
The man of oak, Robert, scratched his head and said, ‘We steal from the rich because the poor have nothing worth pinching.’
Kenrick said, ‘This poor girl has a sick grandmother who lives in a cottage in the woods. She is taking honey cakes to her.’
‘I likes cakes,’ the greasy greybeard said. ‘Give me a honey cake or I’ll cut your throat.’
Nice man. I reached into my bag and handed one to him. It served him right. He opened his mouth wide and the green teeth bit down on my mother’s treat. He cried out. The cake had no tooth-damage but his teeth had cake-damage. ‘It broke me tooth,’ he wailed and ran off into the shrubs at the edge of the woods to spit blood over the dying leaves. As I said, my mum was not a good cook. And, as I also said, he deserved it.
‘Give the girl some money and her granny will tell the world what wonderful gentlemen of the green-wood you all are.’
‘And so will the priest,’ I put in. ‘After all, the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil,’ I reminded them.
Robert looked angry. ‘Yes, well... we like being evil. And we like our money. So clear off and leave us to rob some idiots.’
Kenrick climbed back onto the cart. The tax money seemed safe. Kenrick had played a clever game. ‘Are there many idiots around here?’ I asked.
‘There are lots and lots and lots of idiots around here,’ the fat monk said.
‘You’re right there,’ I said.
Kenrick and I rode off laughing.
*
We reached the fortress of Offa around noon. The mighty wooden walls looked down on us. And so did the guards.
‘Are we going to start spying?’ I whispered to Kenrick. I wanted that purse of gold as soon as possible.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe later. I’ll come with you in case you need my help,’ he said.
‘Help? What help?’
‘We’ll see,’ he murmured. ‘You never know.’
We were led to the treasury where Offa’s banker sat at a desk, back bent over parchment where he was keeping a record. He wore a fusty and faded black cloak that seemed to wrap itself around the coins on his desk.
I placed my bag of coins on his desk. ‘From the village of Clun,’ I said. ‘Forty-seven gold pieces.’
The man picked up the bag. ‘It doesn’t feel like forty-seven,’ he said.
I groaned. Bertram had tried to cheat Offa... and I was the one who would suffer. I closed my eyes and tried not to weep as the man counted out the coins slowly. ‘Forty-two,’ he said. ‘You are five pieces short. Do you know what we do to people who try to cheat King Offa?’
‘No,’ I croaked.
‘We slice off their ears, slit their noses and send them back to their village with a troop of our nastiest soldiers. They start cutting off the ears of everyone in the village until the last silver penny is paid.’ The banker raised a hand like a claw and called out, ‘Guards?’
Three men in coats of mail hurried into the room. A clawed finger pointed at me and they stepped forward.
A hand reached over my shoulder. A hand with a fine velvet sleeve and a purse. It was Kenrick. His voice was smooth as the velvet. ‘Allow me to pay you, sir,’ he said quietly. ‘We owe the king five more pieces? Here are ten. Give five to the king and...’ he winked, ‘... keep five for yourself, eh?’
The banker licked his lips. ‘And who are you?’
‘I am Kenrick, son of Ethelbert... he is overlord of the region around Clun. He would hate to hear that one of his churls had her ears cut off.’
I would hate to hear that too... except I wouldn’t hear it because I’d have no ears. I was so grateful I could have kissed Kenrick. Though in truth I couldn’t have reached his lips with mine because his nose was so very long.
The banker picked up the coin and bit it. It was soft metal – gold. He weighed it in his hand. It was gold. Then he looked at it and his face turned grey as a February sky.
He looked up at the guards who were still waiting to pounce on me. ‘Send for King Offa,’ he said.
The guard twitched. ‘The king is feasting. He don’t like to be disturbed for not nobody and not nothing,’ the guard said.
The banker held the coin in his fist. ‘He’ll want to be disturbed for this.’
7
The King
The king marched into the room, wiping food off his long beard. His eyes were red and like a mad dog who once ran through Clun biting everyone in his way. He seemed to fill the room. He wasn’t wearing a crown. I suppose kings never do when they’re eating dinner.
‘What is it, Selwyn?’ he thundered at the banker. The rest of us shrunk back in fear. The man in faded black simply handed over a coin from Kenrick’s purse. King Offa snatched it and his red face turned purple. ‘What is this? Who dares put his head on a coin in my country?’
‘Lord Ethelbert, sire,’ Selwyn told him.
‘So he wants my throne, does he? He will find it a poor view from the top when I cut off his treacherous head. And who brought these coins to court?’ The king’s gaze fell on me. ‘Was it you, girl?’
‘It was I,’ Kenrick said.
‘And who are you, my strutting peacock?’
Kenrick bowed very low. ‘I am Kenrick, sire. Son of Ethelbert.’
For a moment Offa seemed to struggle to breathe. I felt the same. At last the king said, ‘The son of the traitor? Are you mad, coming here? You can die alongside your snake of a father,’ Offa thundered.
Kenrick held up both hands. ‘You do not understand, sire. I came here to warn you what my father is about. He sent me to spy on you. I came here to betray him.’
Offa’s red eyes went narrow. ‘Why would you want that?’
‘Because I am no fool. You are a mighty king and a great warrior. I knew that as soon as you heard about my father’s coins you would destroy him and his nest of vipers. I would be killed with the rest of them. Better I tell you now and you may forgive me.’
‘Forgive you?’
‘And give me my father’s lands and fortress and coffers filled with silver and gold.’
Offa placed his face close to Kenrick’s. Then he rested a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘You are ruthless and wicked, young Kenrick.’
‘I know,’ Kenrick said with a small sigh and a smaller smile.
‘You are just the sort of man I need to help me rule my English people and crush our Welsh enemies.’
Kenrick bowed again. ‘I am exactly the sort of man you need,’ he agreed.
King Offa turned on his heel and was shouting orders for his army to gather even before he’d left the room. ‘I will not sleep till the head of Ethelbert is eating dust at my feet,’ he yelled.
*
I stayed the night in the fortress, well fed and cared for by Selwyn. After all, I was the friend of the shining young star that was Kenrick.
We rode back the next day towards Clun. At the crossroads our new lord turned to head for his family fortress. The chur
ned mud showed that Offa’s army had already ridden that way. Ethelbert’s head would be eating dust by now. ‘Good day, Marian. I am sure I will see you again when I travel around my towns and villages to meet my churls and thanes.’
‘I never got my purse of gold,’ I said as he unfastened his pony from the cart and left me to drag it home. ‘You promised.’
Kenrick grinned his handsome, saintly grin. ‘I know, Marian. I will not be giving you a single silver penny. And do you know why?’
‘Why?’
‘Because the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.’
He mounted the pony and rode off laughing. ‘Never trust a lord,’ my dad always said. ‘They will trick you and trap you and dirty-deal and double-cross you.’
Mum and Dad were happy to see me risk my life. They cared for me no more than for one of the serfs who slaved for the village. The lords would let you down as Kenrick had. The village churls grumbled about their kings and thanes but never did anything. I faced another thirty or forty years of drudgery and misery and marriage to some idle churl. Unless...
When Robert and his men stepped out on the road, later that day, to rob me, I knew where my future lay.
‘Your money or your life,’ the greybeard said, pointing an arrow at my heart. He needed a good scrub and a well-cooked meal. The others had fine clothes that were ruined with dirt. They had money and all the fine deer-meat they could hunt, but it was badly cooked and joyless.
Still they had one thing that was as priceless as the jewels in any king’s golden crown. Something I’d never had. They had freedom.
‘You are the worst outlaws I ever met,’ I snapped. ‘You need someone with brains to make you the best. In years to come you will be fabled if you have the right leader. You’d be remembered forever as Robert Good and his Merry Men. You will rob the rich and give to the poor. And I am just the maid to lead you,’ I said.
‘A maid called Marian?’ the monk called Tuck said. ‘Robert’s strong but not very bright. You’re right. We need you. I welcome you to our gang.’
I laughed. ‘No. I welcome you to my gang.’
And the rest, dear reader, is legend.
END
Epilogue
Offa was King of the Saxon kingdom of Mercia from 757 AD until he died in 796. He took the throne when there was a rebellion against Ethelbald, the previous king. Some say Offa was part of the rebellion. Ethelbald was murdered in the night by his own bodyguards. In those days you could trust no one.
In his years on the throne, Offa faced a few lords who wanted to take his crown. In 794, Ethelbert rebelled and Offa had him beheaded. It was a cruel world and Offa kept his power because he was crueller than anyone.
Today he is remembered for Offa’s Dyke. He had a ditch and wall of earth built to keep the Welsh out of his kingdom. There were constant raids by the Welsh. Some were just robber-bandits and some wanted to conquer English land. Offa’s Dyke was a huge effort: 20 metres wide, 2.4 metres high and around 150 miles long. It was so huge there are many stretches that can still be seen today, 1200 years later.
The legend of a good bandit and outlaw band is from ancient times. The best-known story is from the 1300s when he is called Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest. But there were stories of Welsh heroes too... and the women who joined them then led them in their battle against the wicked, grasping, cruel lords.
YOU TRY...
1. HEADS YOU WIN
You are the ruler of your country. What you need is money. You have a money factory – a ‘mint’. The coin-makers want you to design your coins. On the ‘heads’ side will be a picture of your handsome head with words around the edge telling the world how great you are.
On the ‘tails’ side of the coin can draw anything you like – if you enjoy flying kites then you may want a picture of a kite. If you like fish-fingers it may be a fish with fingers.
Draw two large circles (around a cup maybe) and design the heads and tails of your coins.
2. RUTHLESS RULES
Now you are the ruler (with your own coins) you need to make sure you make clear and fair laws.
Write down TEN laws… and maybe punishments for people who break your laws.
Here’s an example:
LAW 1: When I do a piece of school work I want 10 out of 10 every time. Any teacher who gives me 9 will have a finger snipped off, two fingers for 8 out of 10 and so on. Any teacher who gives me 0 out of 10 will never pick their nose again.
(I didn’t say they had to be SERIOUS laws… but they can be if you want.)
Bloomsbury Education
An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square
1385 Broadway
London
New York
WC1B 3DP
NY 10018
UK
USA
www.bloomsbury.com
BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
This electronic edition published in 2017
Copyright © Terry Deary, 2017
Illustrations copyright © Tambe, 2017
Terry Deary and Tambe have asserted their rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author and Illustrator of this work.
Every reasonable effort has been made to trace copyright holders of material reproduced in this book, but if any have been inadvertently overlooked the publishers would be glad to hear from them.
This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.
No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organisation acting on or refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be accepted by Bloomsbury or the author.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN
PB: 978 1 4729 2924 2
ePub: 978 1 4729 2925 9
ePDF: 978 1 4729 2926 6
To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com. Here you will find extracts, author interviews, details of forthcoming events and the option to sign up for our newsletters.