Knight of Sherwood

by N B Dixon

  The man hesitated, apparently debating whether or not he should answer. His eyes flicked to the sword thrust through Will’s belt, the battleaxe in John’s hand, and finally to the bow Robin carried. He had no guards to defend him, and if he ran, an arrow would find his back. He swallowed audibly.

  “I am bound for Nottingham. The sheriff is expecting me.”

  Will was sure the man had inserted this last remark deliberately in the hope of intimidating them.

  Robin’s smile was friendly. “We shall not detain you long. I would hate to keep you from your appointment with the sheriff. But before you go, there is the small matter of the toll.”

  The man frowned. “A toll?”

  “Indeed. Sherwood is not the most hospitable of homes, and there are plenty in the border villages on the verge of starvation. A man must live. Therefore, you will give me half of what you have.”

  “This is outrageous!” the man protested, indignation momentarily overriding his common sense. “I carry tax money for King Richard. You must have heard about the ransom.”

  Robin and Will exchanged glances.

  “What ransom?” Robin demanded.

  “He’s been taken. He was captured in Austria. There’s a hundred thousand marks being demanded for his release. The sheriff has ordered all taxes to be doubled.”

  “I see.”

  The tax collector, perhaps thinking that this explanation was satisfactory, took a step towards his horse. Will’s hand drifted to rest on the pommel of his sword and the man froze in his tracks.

  Robin ignored him, addressing Will and John.

  “If I know the king’s brother, Prince John will not be in any hurry to see Richard ransomed. These taxes are likely destined for his own use. The poor people of England are being asked to part with money they can ill afford to give, in the mistaken belief that it will help bring their king home. I think it only right that we return it to them. What do you say, lads?”

  “Aye,” Will and John said in unison. Will fought to hide a grin as the tax collector’s face turned puce with rage. He spluttered, apparently unable to find words.

  “You can’t do that,” he spluttered.

  “I think you’ll find I can.” Robin gestured to John, who reached into the cart and lifted down one of the wooden chests. He struck the lock with the blade of his axe; the lock shattered. Pulling back the lid, John revealed mountains of coins, winking in the winter sunlight.

  “Quite a haul there,” Robin remarked.

  The man made a lunge for the chest, but Will’s sword stopped him, the point inches from his belly.

  “My hands are clumsy today with the cold. I would be very sorry if this sword were to slip.”

  Wat now emerged. He and John lifted down the remaining chests while Will kept their victim covered. From his hiding place, Edward would be doing the same. Robin watched the proceedings with a sardonic smile playing about his lips, while the tax collector looked on in helpless rage.

  “This should help fill several hungry bellies,” John said cheerfully.

  When the cart was empty, Robin removed his arrow from where it stood in the road and replaced it in his quiver. “You may go on your way, and give my regards to the sheriff. Thank him for his generous contribution to the poor.”

  “You said you would only take half,” the man whined.

  “Ah, yes, that was before you said it was tax money. Prince John deserves none of it.”

  “He’ll see you hang,” the tax collector snarled. “You will make a fitting second alongside that knight.”

  “What knight?” Robin snapped.

  The tax collector cringed. “Some knight or other he has arrested. No man is safe from the sheriff’s justice.”

  “Go on your way,” Robin repeated.

  They stood in a silent group, watching until the cart was out of sight.

  Robin grinned. “Good work, lads. I’d say our first robbery was a success. We need to get this money back to camp.”

  Edward appeared, bow in hand. He stared, wide-eyed, at the chests. “Do you think the king has really been captured?” he asked Robin.

  “I fear so. I see no reason why the man would lie. With Richard imprisoned, John will have free rein. He will do everything in his power to make sure the king never returns.”

  ***

  Back at camp, Robin set Edward and Wat to counting the money into pouches. The majority would be going to the poor. Wat was the only one who did not look too happy about this.

  “So,” John said, “how does it feel to be a thief?”

  Will looked up from the rabbit he was skinning, waiting for Robin’s answer.

  Robin put back his hood and stretched his hands towards the fire John was tending.

  “Satisfying.”

  “A bit of a comedown, though, isn’t it, Robin of Locksley?”

  “I haven’t been him in a long time. Besides, I was never your typical nobleman.”

  The conversation was interrupted by an indignant yell from Edward. Will dropped the rabbit as everyone lunged for their weapons.

  “Give them back!” Edward shouted, his knife at Wat’s throat.

  Wat’s eyes were wide with astonishment. “I’ve taken nothing.”

  “Liar!”

  “Break it up!” John roared. He disarmed Edward easily and yanked him away from his victim.

  Will placed himself between the two adversaries.

  “I saw him sneaking some of the money meant for the villagers into his pocket,” Edward said, pointing an accusing finger at Wat.

  “I never did,” Wat exclaimed, but Will heard the tremor in his voice, and he was sure the others did, too.

  An ominous silence fell over the group. Robin broke it. “Turnout your pockets.” Though he spoke evenly, Will could hear the controlled fury beneath the words.

  Wat hesitated.

  “Do it!” Robin’s words were like the lash of a whip.

  With obvious reluctance, Wat reached into his pocket and drew forth a handful of coins. He let them trickle through his fingers.

  The expression on Robin’s face promised violence. “Is that all?”

  Wat nodded. His face was sullen.

  “Search him,” Robin barked at John. With an expression like thunder, John reached out and grabbed Wat by the scruff of his neck. He held him easily with one hand as he rifled his pockets with the other.

  “That was all,” he confirmed.

  Robin crouched so that he was nose to nose with Wat. Though the man’s face was still defiant, Will could see the fear in his eyes. His own disgust was so strong that he longed to throw the rat-like little man face down in the snow. Wat had been a thief for many years, but Will had never believed he would stoop so low.

  “Any man who fights with me needs to understand.” Robin bit off every word. “We are not your average bandits, stealing for our own gain. We take from the rich in order to help those less fortunate. If you have a problem with this, you had better leave now, because if I ever catch you stealing from us again, I’ll cut off your fingers myself. Are we clear?”

  Wat shot an appealing glance at John, but John’s face could have been made from granite. Realising no support was forthcoming, Wat nodded.

  Robin stepped back. “John, take some of this money to your people at Hathersage. Tell them who it comes from and that there will be more soon.”

  John glared at Wat. “You can come, too. It’s time you paid the villagers for their hospitality.”

  Wat didn’t argue.

  Robin watched them go, then, without a word to either Will or Edward, he disappeared into the trees. Will hesitated a moment, but his need to follow Robin was paramount.

  “Stay here, lad,” he ordered. “Any trouble, use the hunting horn, understand?” He barely waited for Edward’s nod before hurrying after Robin. He found him leaning against an ancient oak tree.

  “I should have foreseen this,” Robin said.

  “It’s hardly your fault Wat is a dishonest b
astard.”

  “He’s a thief, Will. He was doing what thieves do.”

  “What is this really about?”

  Robin straightened. “I need the trust of everyone if we are to topple Gisborne. If we are divided, we’ll fail.”

  Will wanted to reach out and touch Robin, but he knew the gesture would not be appreciated. “Wat’s an idiot, but you scared him good and proper. He won’t do it again, you mark my words.”

  ***

  “You could have stood up for me back there,” Wat complained.

  John stopped in his tracks, causing Wat to stop also.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. I believe in Robin. I’m going to fight with him. If you’re against him, you’re against me. If you want to make a run for it, I’ll not stand in your way, but don’t expect me to stick up for you.”

  John didn’t wait for Wat’s answer. He resumed walking, and wasn’t in the least surprised when Wat followed him. The man knew when he was on to a good thing. With Robin, he would at least be fed and clothed, but John resolved to keep a strict eye on him in future.

  ***

  “So,” Jaspar said, “what’s he like, this man you’ve taken up with?”

  Wat looked as though he were about to answer, but a quelling look from John silenced him. “He was once a nobleman, Robin of Locksley, until his father cast him out. He helped thwart the prince’s rebellion when he was scarcely more than a lad. Now he is Robin Hood.”

  “What sort of name is that?” Daphne asked.

  “It is his. If you saw him, you’d agree it suits him. It was how we were first introduced.”

  Jaspar weighed the two heavy pouches John put into his hands. “Well, whoever he is, I’m grateful to him. At least we’ll be able to pay the taxes when Edgar comes calling.”

  “We should go,” John said. “It wouldn’t do for us to be caught here.”

  Daphne went with them to the edge of the village. John hung back, allowing Wat to go on ahead of him.

  “Are you all right?”

  “As well as I’ll ever be. I’m looking forward to seeing Edgar’s face. His little plan has fallen flat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wants to marry me. He promised my da a tax rebate if he agreed.”

  John’s hand jumped to his axe. “I’ll kill him!”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll go back to Sherwood.”

  John pulled her to him. “I hate leaving you.”

  “It never bothered you before.”

  He cupped her face in his big hand. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  ***

  Dusk was falling when Robin, Will and Edward arrived at Locksley. The villagers were reluctant to emerge at first, but when news spread that Robin had arrived with a good deal of money, more and more began drifting out of their homes.

  Lara ran to her brother, seizing him in a bear hug. “Are you all right?”

  Edward squirmed free, his face flushed. “I’m fine. Don’t fuss.” He thrust a pouch into his father’s hand. “This is for you.”

  George eyed the pouch, and then Robin. “This is stolen money.”

  “Not at all, my friend. This is your money. It was unlawfully taken, and now it’s being returned to you.”

  Other families jostled round, accepting the coins Will handed out.

  Alan appeared with Jane. She kissed Robin’s cheek, then Will’s.

  Alan drew Robin aside. “Have you heard about Sir Richard? He was arrested yesterday.”

  “The man we robbed said something about a knight who was due for the gallows.”

  “Why the hell would Gisborne take him?” Will asked. “He’s no threat.”

  “To get to me,” Robin murmured.

  Much joined them. “Sir Richard is deep in debt. There was some fight a few months back involving his nephew. A man was killed. Sir Richard attempted to pay for his nephew’s bail. He was forced to sell everything he owned and it still wasn’t enough to cover the cost. The Abbot of Saint Mary’s gave him a deadline to meet but he couldn’t, and now he’ll hang.”

  Jane was eyeing Robin anxiously. “You can’t go to him. You’ll only get yourself killed.”

  “So I should sit back and let an innocent man hang?”

  Alan looked uncomfortable. “She’s right, Robin. You’d never get into the castle. Gisborne’s just waiting for you to try.”

  “I will not cower in Sherwood,” Robin said. “Two can play Gisborne’s game.” He turned to Will. “Are you with me?”

  “Do you even need to ask? What did you have in mind?”

  ***

  From his table, Robin watched the door expectantly. The others were also scattered about, each with a clear view of the entrance. Only Edward was missing. Robin had no wish to involve the boy in anything so fraught with danger, at least until he was better trained, and had ordered him to return to camp.

  Curfew was fast approaching. They needed to be out of Nottingham before the gates closed for the night.

  It had been a simple matter to discover Hugo Beaumont’s favourite drinking haunt. A coin surreptitiously slipped into the grimy hand of a street urchin had led them right to it. Beaumont drank here most evenings, the lad had assured them.

  The patrons paid them little attention. Robin’s face was still obscured by his hood, but many men had done the same in a futile attempt to protect their ears from the biting cold.

  Robin lifted his third mug of ale to his lips, but froze mid-motion. The tavern door had opened, letting in a frigid gust of air, and the man Robin sought. He was with four other cronies. A quick glance told Robin the others were ready. He nodded to Wat, who sprang at once into action.

  Leaping to his feet so that his bench and table crashed over, he dived for the door. Beaumont recognised him immediately and with a yell of triumph, gave chase, his soldiers at his heels. Under the astonished gazes of the customers and landlord, Robin, Will and John followed, Robin tossing a couple of coins onto the counter as he passed.

  Wat knew the streets of Nottingham better than any of them. Unable to resist leading some soldiers a merry dance, he and Robin had made a truce. Wat led his pursuers to a patch of waste ground where, years ago, a fire had wiped out all the houses.

  As Robin had hoped, Beaumont had not bothered to alert the watch. He wanted the credit for this arrest.

  “You’ve nowhere to go, thief,” he bellowed at Wat. “You’re surrounded.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Robin called.

  Beaumont and his men turned to see Robin, Will and John, all with weapons drawn.

  “I rather think the joke is on you, Captain,” Robin said.

  Beaumont roared and attacked. His blade met Robin’s in a clash of steel. The ground was slippery underfoot, and Robin was hampered by the fact that he needed Beaumont alive. Beaumont had no such constraints, but he was not completely sober, and his reflexes were dulled.

  Another soldier attacked John, but he was no match for the axe-wielding giant. Will had taken on two soldiers at once and felled both of them, while the final man tripped over his own feet in his efforts to escape, and a quick blow from Wat’s staff took care of him.

  Robin’s blade snaked around Beaumont’s and with a quick twist, sent it spinning from the captain’s hand. Robin placed the tip of his blade at Beaumont’s throat.

  “Wait quietly. If you even think of calling for help, you will regret it.”

  Beaumont sneered. “You’re not going to kill me?”

  “If I had wanted you dead, you would be.”

  They stood in silence, watching as Wat deftly tied up each soldier. None were dead, but all were wounded and unconscious. Robin took a length of rope and bound Beaumont’s hands behind him. A piece of cloth was shoved in his mouth and another bound across his eyes. Robin jerked the rope, forcing Beaumont to follow him.

  Leaving by the main gates was out of the question, since they would be guarded. John led them to a small, little-used gate. Only one soldier was
on guard there. A single blow from John’s fist and he fell senseless.

  “That was fun,” Will remarked. “I haven’t enjoyed such a good brawl in ages.”

  Robin allowed the others to pass him. He spared a precious second or two to make sure they remained unobserved, then gave the rope another jerk.

  “Move.”

  ***

  The mouth-watering smell of roasting venison greeted them. Edward’s gaze settled on the bound and blindfolded captain with unmistakable hatred. Robin took the free end of the rope and knotted it several times around a stout tree, before removing the gag and blindfold. Beaumont’s mouth was twisted in fury and he spat onto the ground at Robin’s feet.

  “I’d be a bit politer if I were you,” John advised. “Any trouble, and you’ll be food for the wolves.”

  “You’re all dead men,” Beaumont snarled. “You should have killed my soldiers while you had the chance. They will tell the sheriff of my abduction.”

  Robin smiled. “I hope so.”

  Beaumont’s face creased in a puzzled frown. “You want them to return?”

  “Naturally we do.”

  “This is to be a ransom, then?”

  “Think of it more as a trade.”

  John kicked Beaumont’s feet out from under him. He hit the ground hard.

  “All right, that’s enough talk out of you. Shall I gag him again, Robin?”

  “After dinner.”

  “We’re feeding him?”

  Neither Wat nor Edward looked enthusiastic about this.

  “He has an important part to play tomorrow. We need him to be at full strength.”

  Beaumont had struggled to his feet. “I won’t be a pawn for you,” he began, only to break off as John’s fist made contact with his jaw. He staggered and fell to his knees, scrambling up again with difficulty. There was murder in his eyes, but he was helpless and he knew it.

  John looked ready to hit him again, but Will put out a restraining hand.

  “We need him alive, remember?”

  John snorted in disgust. Turning his back on Beaumont, he strode to the fire to cut himself some meat from the roasting deer.

  Will took a piece of bread from the supply they had purchased earlier that day in Locksley. Cutting a slice of meat from the deer carcass, he laid it on the bread and held it level with Beaumont’s mouth.