Hugh, too, had been relieving himself around the back of Thangbrand’s hall when the enemy horsemen struck. He said he had bellowed a warning into the sleeping hall, grabbed a sword and raced for the stables, intending to fight on horseback. But, by the time he was mounted, the outlaws were barricaded inside the hall and all of Thangbrand’s men outside it were dead. So he too fled into the forest and, riding north at a breakneck pace, he came across Robin’s men by nightfall.
Robin called his council to order by banging a jewelled silver cup loudly on the wooden table. A hush fell over the company; I couldn’t help but feel a wave of excitement. I was being included, for the first time, in the deliberation of the greatest outlaw in England. I felt that I was one of his trusted lieutenants. My face felt hot, sweaty and my pulse was racing with excitement.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Robin. ‘Before we begin. Let us make a toast to Thangbrand, a good friend and a great warrior. And I vow, here and now, upon my honour, that his death shall be avenged. Gentlemen: Thangbrand the Widowmaker.’ We all murmured the dead man’s name and drank. Robin emptied the jewelled cup and set it down. It may have been the closeness of the packed cave but I began to feel slightly uncomfortable. My head began to ache, a pulse pounding in it like a great drum.
Robin said: ‘Which brings us to the next point: I believe we were betrayed at Thangbrand’s. Somebody led Murdac and his men to the farm. The question is — who?’
Hugh said: ‘It could have been anyone. A local peasant, a villager dissatisfied with Robin’s justice. .’
‘They are all too fearful,’ interrupted Little John. ‘God’s greasy locks, we put enough effort into terrifying them. Who would betray us and risk pain and death for himself and his family?’
‘There is one candidate,’ said Hugh slowly. ‘Wolfram — or, as he now calls himself, Guy. He stole a great jewel from Thangbrand and fled the farm in fear of the wrath of his father.’
‘Would he betray his own parents?’ asked Robin. ‘Stealing — well, yes. But leading troops to his mother and father’s door, setting them up to be butchered. . I don’t know. Make enquiries, would you, Hugh. I want to know quickly. And, if it is Guy, I want him dead. But not so quickly.’
Robin continued: ‘The next problem is what to do about Murdac. For many years we had a perfectly good working arrangement with our high sheriff: I didn’t molest his men, I allowed his servants to carry out their duties in peace, and he left what is my preserve untroubled. That arrangement is at an end. He has murdered my friends and stolen my property. He has ceased to show the proper respect for my operations and he has demonstrated, in a most barbaric fashion, that he does not fear my vengeance. So, gentlemen, any ideas? What shall we do about Sir Ralph Murdac, liegeman of our noble King Henry and constable of the royal castle of Nottingham?’
There was a silence for several heartbeats and then one of the outlaws, a big stupid man called Much, the son of a rich Nottingham miller who had been forced into outlawry after murdering a man in a tavern brawl, muttered: ‘Why don’t we kill the bastard?’
Robin smiled at him but without using his eyes and said: ‘I’m listening. .’
Much was clearly embarrassed to have the limelight — he ducked his large head and muttered: ‘Get a few men into Nottingham Castle, I know it well, I used to deliver flour there. . wait in dark passage in the keep, Murdac comes along, knife to the throat, no more problem.’ His words were greeted with the silence of incredulity. He stumbled on: ‘Or maybe a good archer on the battlements could. . a long shot, but with one arrow. .’
‘Stop your mouth, you fool,’ interrupted Little John. ‘We’d never get in there. Do you know there are more than three hundred men-at-arms in the castle? And what about afterwards? How would the men get out alive in the uproar that would follow? No, no, no. We must wait till he ventures out of his lair and then cut him down in Sherwood; we take him on our ground, not on his.’
Hugh cut in: ‘Do we really desire his death?’ There was another stunned silence. ‘I mean, is it not better merely to teach him a lesson? If we can take our revenge, and teach him a lesson at the same time, he may be more malleable. More amenable to making another arrangement with us, that would be to our mutual advantage.’ My head was still pounding. I took a sip of ale from a silver goblet and, as I looked at the beautiful vessel, it swam in and out of focus. I tried desperately to concentrate and listen to the arguments.
‘What about his family?’ said Will Scarlet, from his seat beside me.
‘We’re not going to be killing women and children,’ said Robin. ‘Whatever people may say, we are not monsters.’ He looked round the table to be sure that all present had taken this point. Will blushed: ‘I wasn’t thinking of Sir Ralph’s wife and little ones, sir — his wife died last year, and his children are in Scotland — merely of his cousin William Murdac, the tax collector. Do you know him? He lives out towards Southwell?’
‘That’s possible,’ said Robin.
‘Possible? He’s perfect!’ Hugh pounded the table with his fist. The blow echoed through my skull. ‘That man is hated, loathed by everyone — his zeal in collecting the Saladin Tithe has bordered on madness, and I doubt he handed over all the silver to his cousin. What tax collector does? We know that Murdac himself squirrels a good bit of silver away that is never passed on to the King. His cousin’s coffers are probably overflowing, too.’
Robin’s brother pushed his chair back and stood at the table, fists balled and resting on the wood. He radiated certainty. ‘His manor is fairly remote, I visited there once years ago,’ he continued, his voice booming painfully in my ears in the confines of the cave. ‘He has only a handful of men-at-arms living permanently in the place. And,’ he said with a flourish, like a gambler playing the winning card, ‘he’s unmarried. No wife and bairns to worry about.’ Hugh sat back down again looking at Robin in triumph.
‘Yes. Good. Well done, Will,’ Robin said, nodding down the table at the red-head, whose face split into an enormous gappy grin. To Little John, Robin said: ‘Can you handle this one?’ John nodded. Hugh frowned. And Robin added: ‘I want this William of Southwell’s head brought back here. I will have it delivered to Murdac with a personal message. Take Will Scarlet with you, as he knows the place.’ The big man nodded again. Robin turned to Hugh: ‘Peace, brother, I want you to organise something else for me, more important than a punishment raid. .’ Hugh nodded, but he seemed reluctant.
‘All right. Next,’ said Robin. ‘I want Selwyn’s Farm set up as a new training school, and I want guards posted day and night on all the roads approaching it. I do not want a repeat of Thangbrand’s.’ Then to Hugh: ‘You still have people inside the castle? Good. Make sure they give us plenty of warning when any force larger than, say, fifty men rides out of Nottingham. .’
The conference continued. But I began to feel seriously ill. My bitten arm was throbbing — it had not healed well despite being bound in a bandage soaked in Holy Water by Tuck. My head was banging and my vision came in and out of focus. I watched blearily as Robin listened to his men’s views, made a decision and moved on to the next point. He was unfailingly polite, even when the most ridiculous schemes were proposed, saying merely: ‘I don’t think that idea is the best we’ve had today.’ He didn’t need to be crueclass="underline" John was always ready to lambast a fool and Hugh’s analysis of an idiotic proposition was merciless, as I knew well from my days as his pupil.