‘It is true, I do serve the Earl; I have that honour,’ I said, smiling again. I knew the boy’s type, and had met youngsters like him all over the country. He had heard the songs and legends about Robin Hood and his band of desperadoes and was entranced by the romance of the stories: a happy band of brothers, dining in woodland glades, sleeping under the stars, and running rings around the officers of the law. I could have told him a few tales of my own that would have changed his opinion of Robin, about bloody human sacrifice, and bold-faced theft and extortion, and the mutilation of enemies but, as usual, I refrained.
‘I would beg for the honour…’ the boy said and swallowed, ‘… of serving him. And I have news that con- con-concerns him.’
‘What news?’ I said.
‘Sir Ralph Murdac means to see your master dead.’
‘There is nothing new in that, boy — Sir Ralph and Robin of Sherwood have been enemies since before you were born,’ I said dismissively, and I closed my eyes again.
‘But Sir Ralph has made it known that he will give a hundred pounds of fine German silver for any man who kills him, and brings in his head,’ the boy said.
My eyes flashed open. I was stunned, speechless: I had no idea that Murdac had that amount of money to give away for one man’s death. ‘Where did you hear this?’ I asked.
‘I over-overheard Sir Ralph tell the captain of the castle guard to pass the message of the reward to his men.’ The boy looked at me anxiously. ‘If you give this information to the Earl, perhaps he will look favourably upon me and take me into his service,’ he said. His eyes were pleading.
I looked at him again, perhaps he wasn’t so slack-witted after all; and a bold idea began to grow in my head, a way to test the mettle of this boy, give myself some satisfaction, right a wrong, and strike at Ralph Murdac’s pride into the bargain.
‘What is your name, boy?’ I asked.
‘William, sir,’ he replied.
‘And you are employed here as a servant,’ I said.
‘Yes, sir. I work in the kitchens — but on feast days sometimes I am allowed to serve in the great hall.’
‘Do you truly wish to serve Robert of Locksley?’ I asked.
‘Yes, sir, I will serve him right well; I will serve him as a man of his kind deserves to be served. I swear by Our Lady Mary the Mother of God.’
‘If you wish to serve Robin, first you must serve me. Will you do that? And later, in a few months, you may be allowed join my master on the Great Pilgrimage to the Holy Land. That privilege carries with it the promise of Salvation, and exemption from all your sins. Would you like that?’ The boy nodded so fast and furiously, I feared he might break his neck.
‘But, William, and this is very important, you must not tell a soul that you are serving my lord Locksley until it is time to leave the castle to join your master. Can you do that?’
‘Yes, sir. I am new here at Nottingham, and all alone in the world, I have no friends or family to talk to.’ He looked down at his shoes. ‘My father was fou-foully murdered, sir, by thieves, and my mother died of grief soon afterwards.’ He was snivelling slightly and I felt sorry for the poor lad. I knew what it was to have no one.
‘Nevertheless, you may feel the urge to tell someone that you secretly serve the famous Robin Hood. It’s a natural urge. But, just remember, if you tell anyone about your service, you will never be allowed to join him. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘There is one more thing; you might think of it as a test of your loyalty to Robin. A proof that you truly wish to serve him faithfully.’
‘Tell me what it is, sir, I will do anything.’
‘There is an object, a jewel of great price that rightfully belongs to Robin’s lady Marie-Anne. But Sir Ralph Murdac has stolen it. He wears this jewel around his neck every day — have you seen it? It is a great red ruby — I want you to help me reclaim it for its rightful owner.’
He didn’t even blink at the thought of daylight robbery, but agreed immediately, working his head as vigorously as before; and I knew he was going to fit in fine with Robin’s men. So I put my arm around William’s shoulder and quietly explained to him what we were going to do and how it would be done.
I stayed in Nottingham for two more days, but not at the castle. I could not bear to remain there, where I might be called back into the presence of Prince John for another round of musical humiliation. I stayed instead at the house of an old friend, Albert, a crony from my days as a snot-nosed street-thief, when I would cut away the purses of rich merchants and rely on the thickness of the market crowds to hide me as I made my escape. Albert was an honest man now, and married; he lived in a one-room hovel in the poorest part of the old English borough of Nottingham. So he knew better than to ask about the job I was planning; he knew I was up to no good but he was content to tolerate my presence in his home for the friendship we had enjoyed in the past — and for the silver penny that I had promised him when my business was over.
On the morning of the second day, William came to Albert’s house and told me that Sir Ralph Murdac was looking at rings in the street of the goldsmiths in the northern part of the town.
‘But he is not alone, sir,’ said William, looking worried. ‘He has two men-at-arms with him.’
‘I’m not concerned about that,’ I said, and I wasn’t. ‘Is he wearing the ruby?’
‘Yes, sir, on the gold chain, as always.’
I grinned: ‘Then let us go to him!’
William and I pushed through the thick market crowds none too gently and soon found ourselves at the southern end of Goldsmith’s Street. As we wanted to avoid being recognised by Murdac or his men, William had smeared his face with mud and wore a hood pulled far forward over his brow. I was dressed like an off-duty soldier, in a distinctive blue cloak, hauberk, and sword, with a bloody bandage covering one eye and a good deal of my cheek. I had also pasted some short clippings of Albert’s black hair on my upper lip and chin and covered up my blond locks with a floppy-brimmed hat. To be honest, I felt slightly ridiculous, but Albert assured me that no one would recognise me; the black artificial stubble, though it was crudely stuck on, made me look older, and a much rougher customer; they might comprehend later that I had been a person in disguise but, as everyone in the castle believed that the gifted trouvere Alan Dale had left Nottingham two days before with his serf-born tail between his legs, I would not be immediately suspected as the thief.
Our plan was very simple, as the best plans always are. And it was a manoeuvre I had made several times before, though not for a couple of years or more. It depended on surprise, timing, and the natural human reaction to a hard, winding blow to the stomach.
Sir Ralph Murdac was standing beside a shop counter that opened on to the street; inside the shop, I could just see two young goldsmiths hard at work, tapping away at delicate work with their tiny hammers. I felt the usual thrill of pleasure in my gut at the thought of imminent larceny. On the street, standing next to Murdac, was the master goldsmith, who was showing him a fine gold brooch. He had clearly made the effort to come out of his shop to wait upon to such a distinguished customer. Two men-at-arms, in Murdac’s personal colours of black and red, were standing about ten yards away, leaning against a wall and looking bored.
I walked towards the shop where Murdac was haggling with the goldsmith and stopped at the one before it, keeping my face hidden from the former Sheriff and pretending to examine some rather fine gold-chased spurs. William had been following me at a discreet distance. I was about twenty feet from Murdac and half-facing away from him. Out of the corner of my eye I could see William, coming towards me stealthily. He was a natural, moving like a predator, stopping now on this side of the street, now on the other, browsing, never touching the bright metal that was laid out on public display, never drawing attention to himself. But anyone watching him, if they cared to notice his movements, would think he was stalking me, like a house cat sidling up to an unsuspecting starling. Then he was next to me, on my right hand side, between Murdac and myself.
He didn’t look at me, the obedient boy, just tapped his finger against my thigh. I whispered: ‘Now!’ and then immediately shouted ‘Hoy! Stop thief!’ and quick as a cornered rat William darted away from me directly towards Ralph Murdac. I shouted: ‘My purse!’ and pelted after him. We were only twenty feet from Murdac and, in two heartbeats, William had charged straight into the little black-clad knight, butting him hard in the belly, just below the ribcage with his head as he ploughed forward. I was right on his heels bellowing: ‘Thief! Thief!’ As William’s brown head smashed into Murdac’s midriff, I was less than a yard behind him. All the breath came out of the evil
