Wolf's Head (The Forest Lord)

by Steven A McKay

  “You know….” Gurdon turned with an almost comical look of genuine surprise towards de Craon, “when I think back to our sparring match, I begin to wonder if the boy let me win!” He shook his head and laughed, but the uncertainty was clear in his eyes.

  Sir Ranulph grunted disagreeably. “You’re not filling me with confidence that this will be an easy mission! A superhuman friar, a berserker, and what sounds like the best swordsman in the country, who has a sixth sense for approaching danger?”

  Gurdon laughed, but he was supremely confident that the outlaws wouldn’t expect this attack. Their destruction was a formality, and he mentally kicked himself for talking too frankly to this de Craon, a man he hoped to usurp sometime in the near future. Conversing with a nobleman again after so many years – one close to his own perceived station in life – had made him relax too much, he realised irritably.

  “Well?” Sir Ranulph raised an eyebrow towards him.

  “Well what?”

  “Is there anyone else among this band of wolf’s heads we should be aware of?”

  “Only one.” Gurdon lifted himself in his stirrups and raised a hand. The soldiers behind him slowed to a stop as they neared the outlying reaches of the outlaws’ camp.

  Gurdon’s eyes flicked around the forest, searching for signs of danger, then, seeing nothing, he dropped down from his mount and nervously placed a hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “The bear we called Little John.”

  * * *

  “Ow!” John squealed, as he lay on the ground and inadvertently pressed his big elbow onto a little stone.

  “Keep the fucking noise down, you big girl!” Scarlet hissed as they crawled beneath a thick stand of gorse, startling a red squirrel which loped off as it heard the giant outlaw’s pained cursing.

  The rest of the outlaws had stayed hidden at their new campsite while Robin had gone back with Will and Little John to see if his claims of Adam’s betrayal were true. It would be much easier to hide from any soldiers if there were only three of them – seventeen men would make a lot more noise and be a lot more visible. The others hadn’t been too happy at being left behind, but they knew it made sense.

  The sun had almost crested the horizon and the waiting outlaws were getting restless when, finally, the sound of riders approaching reached them.

  Their hiding place in the bushes was less than a mile from their now deserted old campsite and, as the soldiers came into view, with Adam Bell at their head, Will swore softly in rage, watching their former leader as he dropped smoothly to the ground.

  His voice carried to the concealed outlaws, telling the sheriff’s men to tie their horses to the trees off the road and to follow him on foot. Two men were ordered to stay behind and watch the horses.

  Robin could clearly see the pain of betrayal written on Little John’s honest face.

  “That bastard,” the giant growled. “I’ll fucking kill him.” He started to fit an arrow to his bow but Robin held him back, not wanting a chase from a party of well-armed soldiers led by a man who knew the forest at least as well as any of them.

  Will stared numbly at the men below. “How do we know he’s betrayed us? All I see is Adam and a group of soldiers. Maybe he’s their prisoner.”

  Robin looked at Will in disbelief, while John, exasperated said, “Oh come on, Will! Do you see any chains on his ankles? He’s even got his sword with him!”

  “Who’s that?” said Robin, pointing.

  They all looked at the tall, very heavily built, but older man who was clearly in charge of the soldiers.

  “Sir Ranulph de Craon,” said John. “I remember seeing him with the sheriff once when I was in Bichill. He’s never come after us personally before. He’s the Sheriff’s right-hand man and not a bad character from what I’ve heard. Well,” he grunted, “as lawmen go.”

  Robin nodded thoughtfully. “At least the Sheriff didn’t give Adam control of the soldiers. If there’s one man we don’t want in charge of hunting us down it’s Adam. I can’t see this fellow de Craon taking too kindly to being told what to do by a former outlaw. Hopefully they’ll find our abandoned camp and Adam will be discredited. The Sheriff won’t be too pleased when they go home empty handed.”

  Will began to move forward, following the line of soldiers. “We’ll track them and see what happens when they realise we’re not where they expect us to be. I still don’t believe Adam’s betrayed us all, even if he” – Will stabbed an angry finger towards Robin – “says so.”

  Robin nodded. “Fine, we’ll follow.”

  “Well keep it quiet then,” Little John murmured as he moved quietly after Will. “I’d rather not get into a fight with that lot.”

  * * *

  “Right, men, fan out,” Adam Gurdon ordered. “I want ten of you left, ten right and the remaining ten centre with me and Sir Ranulph, that way – ”

  “Gurdon!” De Craon’s sharp tone brought everyone up short. “I’m in charge here, Gurdon, I’ll decide how we proceed. You’re only here to advise me, please don’t forget that.”

  Adam flushed at the rebuke, knowing the soldiers were watching the exchange with amusement.

  “Your pardon, my lord,” he said, bowing slightly, in deference to the older man. “I’m so used to being in command of men I forgot myself.”

  “In command of a bunch of peasant outlaws, eh, Adam Bell?” De Craon snorted mirthlessly, making Gurdon flush again, anger burning in his brown eyes.

  “Nonetheless,” de Craon went on, oblivious to the Englishman’s ire, “Gurdon’s plan seems sound so” – he pointed with his sword – “you men, go left, you lot, right. The rest come with me and the wolf’s head. When I blow the horn, we all move in and attack the camp. They’ll hopefully all still be asleep and we’ll have an easy morning’s work.”

  As the soldiers moved to take up their new positions Sir Ranulph murmured to Adam, “I would have expected there to be sentries posted, Gurdon. Are you planning on taking care of them before they rouse the entire forest?”

  The former outlaw leader looked uncomfortable. “I checked ahead earlier when your men stopped to water their horses. I never found any sentries where I expected them to be.”

  De Craon stared at him. “What do you think that means?”

  Gurdon shrugged. “They must have relaxed their routine since I’ve not been there the past two days to organise them.”

  “Let’s hope so, that should make our job even easier.” De Craon ordered the party to begin moving forward carefully towards the site Adam Gurdon claimed was the outlaws’ camp.

  When he was sure the men flanking left and right must be in position the sun had only just begun to show itself, but the thick foliage in this part of the forest meant little light was cast on the target area. No one was visible, but the flickering shadows played tricks on the eyes.

  The captain turned to his men. “It’s all quiet in there, they must all be asleep. The lazy peasants haven’t even set sentries so all we have to do is gut them while they sleep. Ready?”

  The soldiers nodded, knowing what to do. Anyone unarmed was to be captured for a public trial, while those who resisted arrest were to be shown no quarter.

  Gurdon slowly eased his sword from its leather scabbard as de Craon raised his hunting horn to his lips and blew one long blast.

  With a roar, the soldiers charged into the clearing, weapons held ready before them. The two flanking parties charged at the same time until all of de Craon’s men stood, staring around themselves into the gloom in confusion.

  “There’s no one here, Gurdon!” shouted the captain, turning on the former outlaw leader. His adrenaline was pumping and he was ready for a fight.

  Gurdon looked around in consternation. “They must have moved camp.”

  “You said they would remain in this place for three days, you fool! This is only the second!” Sir Ranulph roared, shaking his sword in a fury.

  Gurdon sheathed his own weapon and looked around at the deser
ted campsite, baffled. “I’ve no idea why they moved camp. They should have waited on me returning… I would suggest we are wary though…they may have set traps.”

  De Craon looked astonished. “Traps? Why would they do that? They never knew we were coming, did they? Men! Let’s get back to Nottingham, this has been a waste of time. We’re going to look like fools when this gets out, and you, Gurdon”- the angry soldier moved his horse in and shoved his face into Adam’s – “will look the biggest fool of us all. I’ll see the sheriff sends you back into these godforsaken woods where you belong!”

  Gurdon’s plans were coming to nothing. In despair he dragged his sword from its sheath again as de Craon turned his back on him. He was ruined anyway; it would make no difference if he rammed his blade into this arrogant bastard’s spine. He might even be able to escape into the forest and find Will and the rest of the outlaws.

  As the bitter thoughts spun around his head, something out of place, a noise perhaps, a tiny movement in the air, made Gurdon drop to the ground as de Craon spun round and stared at him in astonishment. A split second later a single arrow blasted through the leaves, passing through where Gurdon had been standing a fraction of a second earlier, and lodged itself in Sir Ranulph de Craon’s throat.

  Almost instantly, the sheriff’s soldiers’ training took over and one of them barked an order. The men formed a shield wall around their fallen captain, while Gurdon remained prone on the forest floor, eyes darting around him warily.

  No more arrows came from the trees though, and after a few moments Adam rose to his feet. His calculating mind was inwardly cheering at this unexpected turn of events and he knew his situation had improved dramatically.

  “You two: lift Sir Ranulph. The rest of you: tight formation round them. Let’s move, back to our horses, and Nottingham!”

  Gurdon’s voice and bearing, so naturally used to command, was enough to still any doubts the soldiers might have had about following his orders. They were just glad to have someone with them who seemed to have an idea what to do.

  The hunting party warily set off back home to Nottingham, empty-handed.

  * * *

  Robin, Little John and Will Scarlet had watched the soldiers bluster into their former campsite from a well-hidden vantage point. John had found the whole scene amusing, while Robin looked more apprehensive as he wondered what might happen next.

  Will hadn’t said a word since the so-called attack on the camp began. He simply stared coldly at Adam Gurdon, the leader who had betrayed them.

  As de Craon had raged at Gurdon, the other two outlaws had exchanged smiles – this was the end for Adam Gurdon, surely. No matter what Adam said, the sheriff would take de Craon’s advice and, at the very least, send Gurdon on his way. He would not be leading any more searches for them, and life for the outlaws could go back to normal. They had all known they probably wouldn’t last long if Adam were to lead any sustained hunt for them on behalf of the sheriff. His knowledge of the forest, and their methods, combined with such well-drilled manpower, would make life extremely difficult for any outlaws.

  Now, though, it seemed they were safe.

  As relief washed over him, Robin heard the snap of a bowstring and watched in horror as the arrow missed Adam Gurdon and tore into the big captain.

  “No,” the young outlaw gasped in horror. “No!”

  Little John turned on Will who was busy fitting another shaft to his bow. “Enough, Will! They’ll be after us now, we have to move.” The big man grabbed Will’s shoulder and dragged him onto his feet. “Come on Robin, move!”

  The three outlaws ran back into the forest, John leading them a circuitous route as they headed for the sanctuary of their new camp. They never noticed the sheriff’s soldiers, now led by a pleased looking Adam Gurdon, had lost interest in them . . .

  * * *

  “How very fortunate for you . . .” The sheriff of Nottingham, Sir Henry de Faucumberg, poured himself another cup of wine and took a long pull as he looked knowingly at the recently returned Gurdon.

  “My lord?” Adam looked innocently at the sheriff, who had failed to offer him any of the wine – an expensive French red.

  “Don’t be coy with me, man. The soldiers have told me de Craon was going to recommend I chase you from my castle with your tail between your legs. Apparently my now deceased captain thought you were a blundering fool. I expect I would have taken his advice: he was a very good judge of character.”

  The former outlaw leader held his tongue as the sheriff continued.

  “He was a fine captain you know. The men liked him, probably because he tended to be rather soft on them. He was getting on in years and didn’t have the same ruthless vigour for soldiering as he once had.”

  Seeing an opportunity, Gurdon spoke up. “I could see that, my lord. He was overly cautious as we tracked the outlaws, as if he couldn’t really care less whether we caught them or not.”

  The sheriff nodded, tapping his fingers absently on the side of his cup. “You care a great deal though, eh, Adam?”

  “I do, Sir Henry. They are vermin: scum without honour. They need to be purged from our lands.”

  The sheriff smiled coldly. “You were the leader of those vermin not so long ago, Gurdon – an outlaw just like them. In fact, you never did help us capture Robin Hood or any of the rest of them, as was our agreement when I pardoned you.”

  Adam looked away, knowing his life was once again in the hands of the sheriff.

  “I don’t understand why you feel quite so bitter towards your former comrades – perhaps they’re a reminder of your own fall from grace. A reminder of when you had to steal to eat – to survive. A reminder of the fact that you were nothing.” The sheriff leaned forward suddenly, his eyes hard. “You are still nothing, Gurdon, unless the king – or myself, as his representative in this – decides otherwise.”

  De Faucumberg seemed determined to humiliate him, to make sure he knew exactly who held all the power in their relationship. Yet, Gurdon noticed, his dressing down didn’t come in front of an audience. The soldiers who had returned from the failed mission with him had all been dismissed. Hope flared in him again, as the sheriff drained his cup and rose from his ornately carved seat.

  “You’re on probation,” said de Faucumberg, brushing past Gurdon as he headed for the door that led out of his great hall. As he reached it he turned and continued in a grim voice. “The Earl of Lancaster needs a bailiff in Wakefield, since Robin Hood killed the last one. I’ve been asked to find a replacement. Despite today’s farce, you’ve proven yourself a capable man in the past, so I’m sending you to Wakefield. If you can do a good job as bailiff there until I find a suitable replacement, you will take over from de Craon as captain of my personal guard. I expect you to do at least as good a job as he was doing until today. Better! But first – bring me Robin Hood and the rest of those outlaws.”

  Gurdon breathed a sigh of relief, and nodded in agreement. “My word on it, Lord Sheriff!”

  De Faucumberg stopped and looked back darkly as he left the room. “Adam, I warn you: do not mistreat the villagers in Wakefield. There’s been enough unrest and nonsense there in the past few weeks. You treat the people fairly or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  For the next four weeks, as summer began to give way to autumn, and the green leaves turned to brown, red and orange, the outlaws moved their camp much more often than previously, as Adam Gurdon and his foresters tried to track them down.

  The outlaws managed to stay one step ahead of their pursuers, but it was close on more than one occasion. Gurdon’s knowledge of the forest, and of the outlaws’ tactics, allowed the lawmen to get closer to capturing them than ever before.

  Little John had, unofficially, taken over as leader of the group. Some amongst them felt resentment towards Robin, seeing him as the source of their present troubles.

  “Life was never this hard until he joined us,” Matt Groves muttered to Little John
one evening, as the men sat drinking and telling tales round the campfire. “Adam would never have betrayed us to the law if it wasn’t for Hood. Now we’re hunted like dogs by the man that was our own leader just a few weeks ago!”

  John understood the fear and frustration of Groves and the handful of others who felt the same way. When winter drew in the food would become scarcer. The thick foliage that the group was able to hide in had already started to fall from the trees and bushes, and the warm comfortable nights would very soon be replaced by harsh, biting snow, wind and ice.

  If Gurdon and the Sheriff decided to continue their hunt for the outlaws during a hard winter, John knew his men wouldn’t see the bluebells herald another spring.

  Will Scarlet had also changed since Adam’s betrayal. Always an intense, moody character, Will had become even more withdrawn and the other outlaws had begun to fear he might explode violently at any moment.

  Little John, seeing him sitting alone by the river one chilly sunset, crouched down and, with a small smile, asked if he was alright.

  “No, not really,” Scarlet replied with a grimace, seemingly oblivious to the icy wind that was blowing across the water. “Me and Adam were never what you’d call mates, but I thought we respected each other. I can’t believe he’s betrayed us – betrayed me!” He had felt like there was little to live for after his family’s destruction, but he had a place high in the outlaws’ hierarchy with a leader who, apparently admired, trusted and respected him. That had kept Will going in the mornings, when it didn’t seem worth it to get off the forest floor.

  Now, Gurdon had become his persecutor – thrown his lot in with the hated nobles who hunted them like animals! And, like Matt Groves, Will seemed to think it was mostly down to Robin.