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 little bastard in a short, agonised ‘whoomf!’ His body doubled over, and, as William bounced back and dodged away around Murdac’s bent-over form, I pointed and shouted at William to stop. While the world watched William take to his toes, I pretended to steady Sir Ralph Murdac with an arm round his shoulders and neatly whipped the gold chain and ruby over his lowered neck, and thrust the jewel into a sleeve of my tunic. Then I was past the winded knight, and the gaping, flat-footed men-at-arms and with a great cry of ‘Forgive me, sir, I must catch him!’ I was away and around the corner hot on William’s heels.
William was quick, I have to give him that — quicker than me, and I believed that I was as fit as I have ever been. In ten heartbeats we were a hundred paces away and at a crossroads where three roads converged. I had stopped shouting by this time — I hadn’t the breath — but also I wanted no one to intercept William. At the crossroads, William came to an abrupt halt, and ducked into the porch of a church. I followed him in, swiftly handed him the ruby, and walked away to the centre of the crossroads. The mid-afternoon crowds were fairly thick and the streets were crammed with ox-carts, horsemen, pedlars with big packs, housewives with their baskets and even a drover herding a great passel of sheep. William blended into the throng and began to walk swiftly but without appearing to hurry down the street to the left.
I looked behind me: the two men-at-arms were approaching at speed, and I pointed up the right-hand street and shouted: ‘There he is! Stop him, somebody!’ indicating an imaginary William some distance ahead. Then I ran. I bolted up the wrong street, shouting and halloo-ing and causing a quite a stir. People stopped and left their businesses and began to run with me. By sheer luck, for this was no part of the plan, I saw a boy about William’s age walking up the street ahead. I shouted: ‘That’s him, that’s the thief,’ and urged my fellow pursuers to lay hands on him as I lent against a wall and pretended to catch my breath. The unfortunate lad saw a crowd of enraged townsmen racing towards him shouting ‘Thief!’ and took off like a frightened rabbit. Once the pack had passed me, I was down the first alley I saw; the distinctive blue cloak, eye bandage and hat buried in a mound of wet straw, and I was doing my best to scrub off the fake stubble with a spit-wetted palm as I walked south to rejoin William at Albert’s house.
‘That was bravely done,’ said Robin, He was chuckling at my tale, but his mirth was nothing to Little John’s reaction: his big man’s laugh boomed out across the hall, drawing attention from scores of Robin’s men, and the tears were pouring down his cheeks as he slapped sturdy Owain on the back with glee. Even Sir James de Brus gave me a wintry smile.
‘And you have the ruby with you?’ asked Robin.
‘I have it,’ I said. And unbuckling my saddlebag, I pulled a cloth-wrapped lump from inside. Robin sent a servant for Marie-Anne and while my lord’s good lady waddled over to the table, bringing her lady-in-waiting Godifa with her, I unwrapped the parcel and pulled out the fruits of my larceny.
‘We must reward William with employment in your household,’ I reminded Robin.
‘Certainly, certainly, I can always use talent for mischief like his,’ he said but his eyes were fixed on the great jewel. It seemed to sparkle with a demonic light in the dim hall, glistening and malevolent, like a congealed drop of the Devil’s blood.
‘This belongs to you, my lady,’ I said and, lifting the jewel on its bright gold chain, I presented it to Marie-Anne, holding it in outstretched hands. She took it, but reluctantly. And then she turned to Godifa, a slim girl of about twelve years on the very lip of womanhood, who had grown up with Robin Hood’s outlaws, and who now served Marie-Anne as maid, companion and friend.
‘This is yours, Goody, surely you remember it?’ said Marie-Anne, placing the gold chain around the girl’s neck. ‘It was your mother’s, and you kindly lent it to me, and then I foolishly lost it when I was held captive by Sir Ralph last year.’ She was smiling at the girl. ‘I think you are old enough for it to look well on you now.’
Goody gazed down at the bright gold around her neck and at the great red jewel nestling between the buds of her breasts. She looked up at me, shining with happiness: ‘What do you think, Alan, does this stone become me?’
‘You look beautiful,’ I said. And it was true. Her face had changed shape since I last saw her, only several weeks ago; it had become longer, less round and the cheekbones more prominent. Her hair was long and fine, its colour the exact same shade as the gold around her neck. I could clearly see the beauty that she would become in a few years. And so I said again: ‘You truly look wonderful.’ And then strangely, her face became flushed bright pink, and she slipped off the bench she had been sitting on, came over to me, kissed me on the cheek, muttering, ‘Thank you, Alan’ before pelting off to the solar, shouting rudely behind her to her mistress, as she ran from the table without a by-your-leave, that she must look directly into Marie-Anne’s silver mirror.
‘She’s still not quite tamed, that one,’ said Robin, with a rueful smile at me. ‘Still wild deep in her soul.’
I knew Robin was right: the year before, after a catastrophe of fire and blood in which Goody’s parents had perished violently, she and I had been hunted like beasts by Ralph Murdac’s men through the remote places of Sherwood. We had survived the swords of mounted men-at-arms, attack by wild wolves and a madman who wanted to eat our flesh — and it had been Goody who had dispatched the lunatic with a brave dagger thrust through the eye. She had a strong, savage flame in her soul, which I knew would never be extinguished.