‘What’s the point of that?’ he said. ‘What do you get out of it?’
‘I enjoy it,’ the giant growled and stamped on the log again. Erasmus swayed, then resumed his slouched position – a low centre of gravity was, under the current circumstances, a better option than a high moral position. The giant shook his head in disgust and turned away. Erasmus, thinking this was an invitation to cross, took a couple of steps, but stopped when the giant returned, carrying a second branch in his hand. This one was smaller than the first, but no less threatening. The giant hefted it in one hand then tossed it at Erasmus. Erasmus ducked and the branch passed over his head, bounced off of the opposite bank and fell into the river. The giant looked down at the rapidly disappearing log in annoyance.
‘You were meant t’ catch it,’ he snapped. ‘Now I’ll ’ave t’ get another. Stay there.’
Erasmus watched nervously as the giant strode over to a nearby group of trees. The man placed his weapon on the floor and then simply tore a branch off the nearest tree as if it had been no more than a twig. Erasmus watched as the giant took a knife from his belt and began to trim the various twigs from the branch. Perhaps it was safe to cross? He took a few steps forward, but the giant looked up at the sound of creaking wood and gave a warning growl. Erasmus stopped and looked down at the river again – perhaps he should drop off; they said it was never too late to learn to swim. Before he could make up his mind, however, the giant had returned to the other bank holding a branch in each hand. He threw the smaller one to the teacher. Erasmus caught it, but was nearly bowled over by the impact. He steadied himself by holding the staff out as if he were a tightrope walker then, feeling slightly more stable, began to edge his way forward. The giant stepped on to the other end of the bridge and approached him, walking surprisingly delicately for someone so large.
When the two men were only feet apart, they stopped and stared at each other. The giant towered over Erasmus and he racked his brains for any law of physics that could be used to give him an advantage. They held the tableau for a moment then, losing patience, the giant raised his staff above his head, gave a mighty roar, then adopted a puzzled expression and fell off the bridge and into the river. Erasmus looked down to see his body drifting off in the current, an arrow protruding from between his shoulders. He wondered who the man had been – he’d looked like a prototype of Little John.
Erasmus looked up and his jaw dropped.
‘You all right there, lad?’ said the newcomer. Standing opposite Erasmus was a man who made the giant seem like a dwarf. His massive frame must have been at least seven feet high and he carried a longbow in his hand as if it were a child’s toy. Erasmus, struck speechless at the sight, simply nodded. The giant extended a hand and helped Erasmus across the log and on to the safety of the bank.
‘He’s been causing a lot of trouble of late,’ he said, looking wistfully at the body as it drifted away, ‘’bout time someone dealt with him.’
‘Quite,’ said Erasmus, uncomfortable with the idea of murder but not wanting to argue with the man who had just saved his life.
‘What you doing wandering so far from the village?’ said the giant. ‘It ain’t safe in this forest – outlaws, you know.’
‘I’m not from the village.’
‘You from Nottingham? I’ve never seen you there.’
Erasmus shook his head and dropped his branch on to the ground. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m a traveller. I’ve heard tell of Robin Hood and wanted to find if the stories were true.’
‘You’re interested in Robin, are you?’ the giant seemed impressed. ‘There’s not many people would feel safe on their own in Sherwood looking for him.’
‘No?’
‘They say he’s got eyes in every tree and an arrow cocked in every thicket. They say that before a newborn deer is out of its mother, he knows what colour its eyes are. These woods are Robin’s woods.’
‘Who says all that?’
The giant laughed. ‘Villagers mainly,’ he said. ‘Most of them are frightened of their own shadows.’
‘And you? What do you say?’
‘I say you should come and meet him. I’ll take you to his camp.’
‘You’re Little John?’
‘No. I’m Medium-Sized John – Little John’s at least ten feet tall,’ said the giant. He paused for a moment and watched Erasmus’ face. The teacher’s expression was uncertain. The giant grinned. ‘Only kidding,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, it’s nearer nine.’
‘Oh.’
‘You don’t believe me, do you? Fair enough – you’re a perceptive man. Yes, I’m Little John, right-hand man to the master outlaw himself. And you are?’
‘Erasmus Hobart, scholar and teacher.’
‘Teacher, you say? What do you teach?’
‘History and… History mainly.’
‘Not much call for that in these parts, friend – we have to live for today round here.’
He led the way through the forest, crashing through low-lying tree branches with abandon and with absolutely no concern for the amount of noise he was making. Erasmus, despite his relatively short stature, had to duck periodically to avoid being hit by the branches as they swung back. Eventually, they entered a clearing considerably larger than that used by Marian’s camp. In the centre was a sapling, gradually growing up towards the light that filtered between the surrounding trees. Erasmus looked at it in wonder – of all the trees he’d passed, he hadn’t seen any so small and delicate.
John followed his gaze. ‘Robin planted that a few seasons back. He won a contest of agility with a squirrel and this was his prize.’
‘Oh?’
‘The squirrels are a bit cheeky round here,’ said John. ‘This one came into the camp, bold as brass and took a piece of bread from Robin’s hand. Robin chased him into the trees and stole one of his acorns. We call this tree the Major Oak – or Nuts to the Squirrel, depending what mood we’re in.’
Erasmus looked at the tree in amazement then looked around at his surroundings. The area was beyond recognition, the blanket of trees providing a disguise that only the passage of eight hundred years would peel away.
‘Something wrong?’ said John.
‘No,’ said Erasmus. ‘I just realised something, that’s all. I think I’ve been here before.’
‘I’ve never seen you.’
‘You wouldn’t have been around then.’
John looked confused. ‘This would have been a long time ago, then?’
‘Not exactly.’
John’s expression grew even more puzzled. ‘What do you mean? In another life or something like that?’
‘Something like that, yes,’ said Erasmus, intrigued at the giant bringing up such a concept on his own. ‘Do you believe in reincarnation?’
‘Reinwhat?’
‘Having another life after you die.’
John considered this. ‘Can’t rightly say,’ he said. ‘Way I see it, we’re lucky to get one life and I’m buggered if I’m going to give it up now, just to see if the next one’s any good. ’Course the Sheriff would like to send us all into the next world, but he believes in it rather less than I do.’
‘The Sheriff isn’t a Christian, then?’
‘Him, a Christian? That’s a laugh. I think the only thing he worships is money – in very large piles.’
Erasmus nodded. ‘Where’s everyone else?’ he said. ‘Are they out liberating tax money?’
John shook his head. ‘We don’t do that so much these days. They’re just off picking up some meat for dinner. Do you like venison?’
The sun was beginning to dwindle in the sky when Erasmus heard the sound of the returning outlaws. Voices drifted into the clearing and Erasmus looked up from where he had been resting by the foot of one of the great oak trees. John was restringing bows, sitting cross-legged by the Major Oak, and he nodded in Erasmus’ direction.
‘That’ll be ’em now,’ he said.
/> Erasmus strained his ears for snippets of the conversation – he didn’t want to be taken totally by surprise.
‘Well, I still reckon we should have wrung its bloody neck. You let them get away with it once and it’ll be work, work, work to get their respect back.’ The voice was loud and gruff and there was an edge of danger to it.
‘It was only a squirrel, Will – you can’t expect them to understand.’ A more reasonable voice, young and with a hint of humour.
‘Well, the little sods don’t have to drop acorns on your head, do they? I’d have had that bloody deer if I hadn’t been put off.’
There was a rumbling of assent, which sounded like it came from several people.
‘We’ve got plenty of venison, Will – we can let one get away.’
‘I bet that bloody squirrel’s laughing at me. Sitting up in some tree with his nuts and telling all his mates I’ve gone soft. Next time I see him, I’ll have the bastard.’
‘How will you know which squirrel it was?’ The new voice sounded tutored and was dripping with sarcasm. Will took a few seconds to reply and Erasmus could imagine he was glaring at people as he thought of a suitable response.
‘I’ll kill them all,’ he snapped eventually. ‘Bloody little red bastards. They’re no use to anyone. Not as if they taste any good, is it?’
The group entered the clearing and John nodded in greeting. They stopped when they saw Erasmus and one of them, a tall youthful figure with long, dark hair and a clean-shaven face, looked at John with an eyebrow raised quizzically.
‘Have you been hunting, John?’
‘That stupid ogre was going to brain him. He said he was looking for you,’ said John. Erasmus realised that this man was Robin Hood and he rose to his feet respectfully.
‘Looking for me?’ said Robin, his face a mixture of laughter and puzzlement. ‘But where’s his sword and his soldiers? Unarmed men don’t come to visit me at home.’
He stepped forward and Erasmus caught a glimpse of the men behind him: there was a brute of a man, with short-cropped hair and a square jaw, who slouched rather than stood to Robin’s left; a pair of identical twins, with dark features and shoulder-length brown hair, and a lad who could only have been in his late teens and whose bow stood taller than his head. The last of the party seemed somewhat out of place – a tall, dark man, his posture was upright, his face cheerless and his steel-blue eyes seemed to penetrate beneath Erasmus’ skin. Erasmus smiled politely, but the man simply glared with greater intensity. Robin, watching as Erasmus examined his group, smiled mischievously.
‘They’re not for sale, you know,’ he said.
Erasmus’ attention was rapidly snapped back to Robin himself. ‘What?’ he said.
‘They’re not for sale. You were looking at them like a man at a cattle market.’
‘Sorry. I’ve heard such a lot about you and it’s an odd feeling to finally meet you.’
Robin looked at Erasmus curiously. ‘What brings you to Sherwood?’ he said. ‘I think I can assume you haven’t come to arrest me?’
Erasmus smiled. ‘As you said, I’m unarmed. No, I came to meet you. To find out what you’re really like.’
Robin exchanged glances with John, then looked back at Erasmus. ‘Have you come far?’ he said.
‘Not exactly.’
‘But you have come alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you find us?’
‘I was shown the way.’
The square-jawed hulk of a man looked at Erasmus suspiciously then prodded at Robin. ‘Who told him where we were?’ he snapped. Erasmus recognised the voice as that of Will. Robin nodded to Will then turned back to Erasmus.
‘It’s a fair question,’ he said. ‘Who did tell you?’
‘I came from Marian’s camp,’ said Erasmus.
‘Marian’s?’ Robin seemed surprised. ‘Yet you don’t appear to be wearing a dress. What were you doing there?’
‘They rescued me from the castle.’
This seemed to completely confuse the outlaws. Will’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. ‘He’s lying,’ he muttered.
Erasmus put up his hands placatingly. ‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘One of their party was in the dungeon with me and she persuaded them to help me out.’
This appeared to satisfy Robin, although Will still looked unhappy. ‘What were you doing in the dungeon?’ said Robin.
‘I had a run-in with Gisburne.’
‘Gisburne,’ Will growled with ill-concealed venom.
‘Gisburne?’ said Robin. Erasmus had piqued his curiosity. ‘And how had you managed to upset him?’
‘I caused his horse to throw him,’ said Erasmus. ‘It was an accident.’
‘It always is,’ said John cordially. ‘People can’t help attacking Gisburne – it’s a natural enough reaction.’ Erasmus noticed a look crossing Robin’s face. It was only momentary, but he swore he saw a brief moment of something in his eyes – pain perhaps? He quickly recovered his composure and motioned to the twins, who unburdened themselves of a pair of young bucks next to John.
The giant grinned. ‘Venison again,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised the King’s got any deer left.’
‘He never seems to hunt round here,’ said Robin. ‘It seems a shame to waste them.’ He turned back to Erasmus. ‘I assume you’re staying for dinner.’
‘Actually, I was hoping to stay a little longer.’
Robin nodded. ‘What is it that you do?’
‘I’m a scholar.’
‘And you’re studying me?’
‘In a way.’
Will shook his head. ‘Doesn’t make any bleedin’ sense,’ he muttered.
Robin patted Will on the shoulder. ‘I’ve heard odder stories,’ he said. ‘And what’s your name?’
‘Erasmus,’ said Erasmus. ‘Erasmus Hobart.’
‘Well this is Will Scarlet, this is Much, the twins are Timothy and Dick – but don’t ask me which is which – and this is Deloial.’ At this he motioned to the stern figure to his left. ‘John, I imagine, has already introduced himself.’
‘Yes.’
‘Doesn’t surprise me – John could talk for his country. Sometimes he even says something sensible.’
John opened his mouth as if to reply then, as he realised he would simply be proving Robin’s point, a slow smile spread across his face. Without saying a word, he shouldered the two deer and took them off out of the clearing. Erasmus watched his retreating back for a moment then turned back to Robin.
‘Is this your whole band?’ he said.
Robin cast his gaze over the motley assortment of men then looked back at Erasmus. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Why do you ask?’
Erasmus shrugged. ‘I’d heard you had more.’
Robin laughed. ‘Where would I hide them? A small band can disappear into these woods, but you couldn’t hide an army.’
Erasmus nodded. It occurred to him that he didn’t know where in Robin’s timeline he was, so there was always the possibility that other followers would join later. He looked at the man: youthful, confident and cocksure – perhaps his legend would follow as he grew older, wiser and a little more cynical. There was, Erasmus considered, much to be said for being a little older – in these days it meant you’d survived being younger.
Chapter Ten
The morning sun filtered through the trees, the gentle breeze causing the shadows to dance and flit playfully across the forest floor. Robin’s men, with Erasmus in tow, walked silently through the light’s playground, their every movement showing that, however overconfident they may have seemed, they were very much on their guard. Robin, who was leading the party, had just ducked under a branch when he stopped and motioned through the trees. The others stopped as well and soon even Erasmus could hear the gentle trotting of hooves as they passed through the forest.
‘Someone seems to be taking their time,’ said John quietly from the back of the group.
‘Perhaps nobody warned him about t
he dangers of travelling in the forest,’ said Will. His hand went almost instinctively to the hilt of his sword.
‘Either that or he’s got nothing to take,’ said Robin. ‘Shall we go and ask him?’
As the party made their way quietly through the bushes, the sound of hoof beats was joined by the sound of a voice raised in song. The singer sang in a clear tenor which, had it not been quite so mournful, would probably have had quite a successful career in the easy listening charts. Perhaps he could have a career in country music, Erasmus considered as he strained his ears to make out the words.
The blackbird has no happy tune,
To raise two sunken hearts.
For evil deeds have now conspired,
To keep the pair apart.
And so I must take to my horse,
And ride to face my foe.
But should I die afore the day,
At least I’d lose my woe, my woe.
At least I’d lose my woe.
Erasmus had found himself nodding along in time to the measure of the song and it came as somewhat of a surprise that the next sound he heard wasn’t that of the singer delivering the second verse of the piece.
‘Will you bloody shut up,’ Will’s voice came through the bushes to the outlaws and, freed from the distraction of the song, they realised he was no longer with them. Robin headed through the bushes and signalled for the party to follow. They found Will standing in the road with his sword drawn and pointing at the singer’s chest. His face was drawn in more of a scowl than usual – Will obviously wasn’t a music lover.
‘Pray, let me pass, good fellow,’ said the man on the horse. ‘I mean you no harm.’
Erasmus thought this a bit rich, given that the man was a slight young figure with unkempt tousled hair and a skinny physique that spoke of one too many unpaid gigs. It seemed unlikely he could hold his own against the armed ruffian who stood before him.
It was hard to tell whether Will took any particular offence at being referred to as good fellow. He seemed to be in a bad enough mood already and the way in which his sword arm stretched almost imperceptibly forward, whilst not making a point, did present the already available point in a less than subtle manner.
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