Assassin in the Greenwood

thought, noting a muscle flicker high in Branwood's cheek. The under-sheriff swallowed hard.
    'When Sir Eustace issued his proclamation, I openly defied Robin Hood, calling him a coward, a skulking caitiff, the illegitimate son of a yeoman farmer. I challenged him to a duel a outrance on the High Pavement of Nottingham.' He pulled a face. 'You know the outlaw's reply.'
    'You are sure,' Corbett asked, abruptly changing the conversation, 'that the outlaw himself never comes into Nottingham?'
    'Why do you ask?'
    'Because I think he might be captured by stealth, rather than by force. His Grace the King is most insistent that he is taken. Once this threat is removed, Edward intends to take the field against the Scottish rebel William Wallace.' Corbett looked at Ranulf, the strange words on the parchment his manservant had brought from Paris running through his brain. He blinked. 'Yes, as I was saying, the King needs the roads north free for supplies and men. Robin Hood is to be killed.'
    'How?' Branwood sneered. 'By you and two servants?'
    'No,' Corbett replied, stung to the quick. 'You have heard of Sir Guy of Gisborne?'
    'Yes, he holds the lands near Stifford on the Lancashire border. He was once sheriff here during Robin Hood's early depredations.'
    'Well,' Corbett replied, 'Guy has offered his services to the King and they have been accepted. No man knows the forest better than Gisborne. He is now at Southwell with a dozen trained foresters and sixty archers.' Corbett was pleased to see the hauteur drain from Branwood's face. 'Tell me,' he continued quickly, 'what do you know of the outlaw?'
    Branwood seemed discomfited by the reference to Gisborne and Corbett cursed his own ineptitude; it might appear that the King had no confidence in Branwood while Gisborne's presence was supposed to be secret.
    'Robin of Locksley,' Branwood began slowly, gathering his thoughts, 'was born a yeoman farmer. He inherited the small manor of Locksley with some fields and pasture rights. As a young man he fought in the King's armies in Wales where he became skilled in the use of the long bow.'
    Corbett nodded. He had seen the strength and power of this weapon, increasingly used by English archers instead of the crossbow. The height of a man in length and, fashioned out of polished yew, a skilled bowman could use it to loose four arrows each a yard long, capable of piercing chain mail, in the space of a minute.
    'Robin of Locksley was born for war,' Branwood explained. 'He took part in the troubles in the old King's reign but then came back to Locksley where he was drawn into a fight with royal verderers who, some say, murdered his father. Robin killed three of these and fled to Sherwood for sanctuary.'
    Corbett listened carefully; what Branwood was telling him agreed with the information he'd gathered before he left Westminster.
    'Robin was a skilled bowman,' Branwood continued, 'a good soldier who knew the forest paths like the back of his hand. He was joined in the forest by Lady Mary of Lydsford together with a Franciscan nicknamed Friar Tuck.'
    Corbett looked at Friar Thomas who grinned back at him.
    'Not all friars are men of God,' he quipped. 'Old Tuck was a rogue who had his cell at Copmanhurst near Fountaindale. When the King issued pardons to Robin Hood, Tuck was sent to fast on bread and water in one of our houses in Cornwall where he later died.'
    'What else?' Corbett asked.
    'Others joined Robin,' Roteboeuf spoke up. 'A huge giant of a man, bigger than Naylor, called John Little, nicknamed "Little John", an ex-soldier and a savage man. Robin's other principal lieutenant was Will Scathelock or Scarlett.'
    'You see,' Branwood intervened, 'Robin of Locksley was quite unique. He imposed discipline on his own coven and was careful not to hurt the peasants or those who might betray him. He plundered churchmen or lords, and those he could not terrorise into silence, he bribed.' Branwood shrugged. 'You know the rest of the story. Six years ago His Grace the King came north. He issued pardons to Robin and his men, even,' he added bitterly, 'giving the wolfshead a place in his household chamber. Robin took his men to serve in the Scottish war.'
    Corbett held up hand 'I saw him,' he murmured. 'A tall, swarthy-featured man, his hair black as a raven. He always wore Lincoln green under the royal tabard. He was a captain in the company of royal archers. Harsh-faced,' Corbett mused. 'He reminded me of a hunting peregrine. Enough,' he