him fall into their hands. Although he was no longer an outlaw, with the King abroad he could have been held for ransom by any avaricious baron; and then there was the matter of Murdac’s price on his head.
‘I don’t want to be bothered with a long train of servants and men-at-arms,’ said Robin when I raised my concerns about him travelling without protection. ‘And, besides, I’m taking you along to look after me,’ he grinned. ‘Are you not up to the job?’ I frowned at him. I knew why he wanted to travel light; he didn’t want anyone to know that he was short of money. He planned to visit Reuben, an old and trusted friend, arrange to borrow a large quantity of cash from the Jews of York, and be back in Kirkton in a couple of days. ‘Come on, Alan. We’ll travel in plain, ordinary clothes, a couple of pilgrims, but well armed and moving fast — no pomp, no fanfare, it’ll be just like the old days, we’ll have some fun…’
And it was fun. I rarely got to spend time alone with Robin these days, and while I was still very slightly afraid of him — I never forgot that among other heinous crimes he had condoned the murder of his own brother — I always relished his company. And we were well armed: both of us in mail coats, Robin with his war bow and arrow bag, and a fine sword, myself with my old sword and poniard. I also wore my new sky blue embroidered hood, but that was only to annoy Robin and show him that, while I’d always be his loyal man, I cared not a fig for his hidebound ideas about headwear.
We pushed our horses hard for several hours and then, as night began to fall, we bivouacked in a small wood not far from Pontefract Castle. That great castle was held by Roger de Lacy, the new Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, and we could have received a welcome worthy of an Earl in his stone hall, had we chosen; but Robin wanted to keep his journey secret; and I was happy for as few people as possible to know that Robin was roaming the countryside with only one armed retainer. I think too, in hindsight, that Robin occasionally found the trappings of his earldom a heavy burden and he longed for a return to the simple life of an outlaw; although he had never yet actually voiced this feeling to me.
Robin had brought cold roast beef, typically ignoring the fact that it was Lent, in fact, only five days away from Easter Sunday, and according to Church law we were supposed to be eschewing meat of any kind. He also brought bread, onions and a skin of wine and we made a cheerful camp with a small fire under a great spreading oak. And after we’d eaten, as the sparks danced above the fire, we wrapped ourselves in our warm green cloaks and sat cross-legged around the cheerful blaze, with our weapons close at hand. Robin took a long pull from the half-full wine skin before passing it to me. I drank deeply and passed it back.
‘Do you think Murdac actually has a hundred pounds of German silver?’ I asked him, wiping my mouth.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Every man within a hundred miles will have heard of the offer by now; and half of them will be thinking of how they can claim it. It was a very good move on his part. I salute the slimy little bastard,’ Robin lifted the wine skin towards the fire and took another long drink.
‘I had him once, you know,’ he said. ‘I had his life in the palm of my hand, and I let him go. Foolish of me; I should have killed him there and then. And I wouldn’t have this problem now. I could have avoided a lot of trouble if I had just snuffed him out there and then.’ He brought his forefinger and thumb together with a soft snap. ‘But I felt pity for him. I say pity, but it was merely weakness, in truth. He begged for his life on his knees and I couldn’t kill him. Sheer bloody weakness — arrogance, too. But then no man can see the future.’ He sighed and drank again.
‘When was this?’ I asked.
‘Here, take this; I’ve had enough,’ said Robin passing me the wine skin. He never drank to excess but I sensed that, that night, he might have wanted to. I took a small drink myself and kept quiet.
‘It was about seven, eight years ago, long before you joined us. We were just a handful of men then: John, Much the miller’s son, Owain and a dozen or so others. Waylaying rich travellers, mainly. I used to invite them to dinner in the forest, and then make them pay for the privilege. It was just a childish game, really. We were on the move all the time in Sherwood, dodging the Sheriff’s men, fearful that a decent-sized company of soldiers would find us. No more than a pitiful band of wandering footpads. I realised that I needed some real money to build the organisation I wanted; I needed, well… respect from the villages. I wanted to do something big. I needed to do something spectacular. So John and I cooked up a plan.’
He shrugged off his cloak, went over to the woodpile and threw another branch on the fire. Sitting down again, and extending his hands to the blaze, he continued: ‘We decided to rob the High Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire and the Royal Forests himself, in his own castle.’ Through the leaping flames I could see his face clearly: he was smiling with pleasure at the thought, his silver eyes shining in the darkness.
‘There was to be a sword-play competition at the Nottingham Fair, open to all, and we decided that John should enter, calling himself
… what was it?… something preposterous, something woody… Greenleaf, I think. That’s it. Reynald Greenleaf, was to be his name. He was to try and get himself noticed by Sir Ralph Murdac and get himself taken on as sergeant-at-arms in the castle. Well, you know John, he won the contest easily, even killing his opponent in the final round. And Murdac swiftly took John into his employment.’
I was fascinated. I had never heard this tale before. Robin rummaged in the food sack and brought out the remains of the beef joint. He cut off a thin, delicate slice, and popped it in his mouth. I took another drink from the wine skin. ‘It wasn’t a subtle plan; the robbery,’ said Robin, chewing slowly. ‘We were after Murdac’s dining silver; the best goblets, cups and plates, mazers, bowls and platters that he used on feast days in his hall. And we heard that they were kept in a locked room off the kitchen.
‘John waited three days, playing the part of a loyal man-at-arms, and after midnight on the third day he went down to the kitchen, broke open the door of the store and filled a sack with the silver plate. Halfway through, he was discovered by the head cook, a huge man, and almost as strong as John himself. Apparently, they had an almighty set-to in the kitchen, pots and pans flying everywhere, and they beat each other to bloody steak. Must have made a hell of a racket. Eventually, John managed to knock him out and get away with the sack of clanking metal. But it wasn’t a smooth escape; the disturbance made by the fight in the kitchen had roused the castle and when John galloped out of Nottingham on a stolen horse, he was followed by Sir Ralph Murdac and a score of his men-at-arms, buzzing like angry wasps, hastily dressed and only half-armed.’ Robin poked the fire with a thin stick, setting his makeshift poker alight. He waved it in the air to extinguish the blue flames.
‘Of course, we were waiting for John in the forest, and when Murdac’s half-dressed soldiers turned up, we shot them to pieces with our bows from dense cover. They didn’t stand a chance. The soldiers charged into a hail of arrows and, without proper armour, in three heartbeats there were a dozen empty saddles and a litter trail of men bleeding, cursing and dying on the forest floor. The rest had to run for it.’
He stopped for a moment. ‘But they left Ralph Murdac behind.’
‘So you captured the Sheriff himself?’
‘Yes, we had him, and he was wounded, not badly, just an arrow in the flesh of his left arm. But his horse had been pierced by a couple of shafts and had thrown him. He was terrified: surrounded by a pack of bloodthirsty outlaws, men he would have hanged on sight if he had caught them in Nottingham; his own men wounded and dying around him, the rest fled. He was on his knees, pleading for his life, tears absolutely running down his face. I’ll never forget the sight of someone so… lost.’
‘The men thought it was funny, of course — the high and mighty Sheriff, begging for our mercy. I had my sword drawn and I was preparing to dispatch him, when Tuck intervened. And in my youthful weakness, I listened to him. ‘Make him swear, on the Cross, that he will not molest us in future,’ said Tuck. ‘Make him swear, by all that is holy, that he will pay a ransom,’ he insisted, ‘and spare your soul another black stain.’
‘I was soft then, a fool, and I listened to Tuck’s plea. So Murdac swore a great oath that he would not pursue us in the forest, that we outlaws might do as we chose in Sherwood. He promised to deliver a ransom to the very spot he was kneeling on in three days’ time, I forget how much now, but a decent sum; twenty marks, I think. And, being the idiot that I was then, I let him go.’
Robin stabbed at the fire again with the stick. ‘He never paid up, of course. Perhaps he had intended to do so when he was begging for his life but, once he was snug at home in Nottingham Castle, there was no chance he was going to part with his silver to an outlaw. But, strangely, he did leave us alone, for a year or more, and it gave me more than enough time to build up my strength. All manner of people came to join me. I was made, then, with the common people. The robbery was a success, in that aspect. I had their attention, and their respect.’
‘If you had killed Murdac, it would have brought the wrath of the King down upon you,’ I said. ‘Henry would have come north with all his might and crushed you like an insect,’
‘Yes, there is that,’ conceded Robin, ‘but I wish I had slit the little poison-toad’s throat nonetheless.’
