Assassin in the Greenwood

off.
    'Wait for it,' Corbett whispered.
    Sure enough there was a clatter in the corridor outside and Branwood hurried into the torture chamber.
    'Sir Hugh, what are you doing? These men are to be tortured and then hanged after Friar Thomas has shriven them!'
    'Sir Peter,' Corbett said tactfully, 'you are the King's under-sheriff but I am his commissioner. There are more ways than one of killing a cat. Naylor has had his way. If he continues, these men will soon be dead. Now I am going to have them taken to a dungeon where I'll question them closely. When I have finished, if they are still lying, you can have them hanged, drawn and quartered for all I care. However, if they tell the truth, I'll issue a pardon.'
    Branwood's face relaxed. 'Have it your way,' he muttered.
    Corbett returned to the castle bailey for some fresh air. He noticed how restless Ranulf had become.
    'What's the matter, man?' he snapped. 'Are you missing your lady love?'
    Ranulf looked down and shuffled his feet. 'He wants to meet you.'
    'Who does?'
    'Rahere the Riddle Master.' 'Ranulf, what have you promised?' 'Nothing, Master, it's just that…' 'He would like an invitation to the King's Crown Wearing at Yuletide?' 'Yes, Master.'
    Corbett turned away. 'For God's sake, Ranulf, we have enough on our minds. Tell him I'll meet him soon. Perhaps we can share a bowl of wine. But at the moment…'
    Ranulf knew when to cut and run; the words were hardly out of Corbett's mouth before he was hurrying away, back up to his chamber to rub fresh oil into his face as well as search for a small bottle of perfume he had been hoping to sell. He had bought it from a high-class courtesan in London.
    'A concoction of ass's milk, balsam and rare ointment,' the woman had lied. 'I bought it from an Egyptian who said it was the same unguent Cleopatra used to rub into her body.'
    Ranulf searched amongst his untidy belongings until he found it, his excitement increasing as he thought of the lovely Amisia letting it drip between her ripe, full breasts.
    Whilst Ranulf prepared himself, Corbett returned to the dungeons. A surly Naylor showed him to the cell where the two prisoners, their hands and feet shackled, lolled side by side on a bed of filthy straw covered by a threadbare blanket. Corbett asked for a stool and, when it was brought, ordered Naylor to leave them alone. He then pushed the bucket of water nearer the men. They were conscious but in sore pain, groaning every time they moved. Corbett splashed water over their faces, filled the two tin cups full of wine and pushed them into their bruised and eager hands.
    'Drink,' he said. 'It will dull the pain.'
    Both men gulped. Corbett re-filled the cups.
    'You are going to hang,' he began softly. 'If you survive the torture, Branwood will tie a noose round your necks, fasten one end of the rope to a hook and kick you both over the castle walls. Do you want to die like rats on a farmer's line?' He showed them his ring bearing the Royal Arms of England. 'My name is Sir Hugh Corbett. I am Keeper of the King's Secret Seal. I have the power of life and death over you. If you tell the truth, I'll have you pardoned and released. If you lie, you'll both be dead by sunset.' He refilled the cups as the men shuffled and looked at each other. 'Now, you are Robin Hood's men?'
    They both nodded.
    'Where do you usually hide?'
    One man licked blood-caked lips. 'We are the outlaw's men and yet we are not.' 'What do you mean?'
    'Go deeper into the forest, Master, and Sherwood is like a city. You have the peasants, the charcoal-burners, the pig tenders, the poachers. Those who live by the law and those who do not. We began as poachers; usually we lived by ourselves, moving from one cave to another or sleeping in this glade or that.'
    'So you did not live in one band?'
    His companion spluttered on a half-laugh and gulped from the cup.
    'For God's sake, Master, I have heard the ballads myself. Any outlaw band which kept together would soon be hunted down. Its camp fires would be seen from Nottingham. No, Robin Hood can usually be found near the glades and oaks of Edmundstowe. At times we were called in.' 'How?'
    'By runners or by hunting horn. Or by messages left pinned to the trunks of certain oaks.' 'And what happened then?'
    'We usually gathered in some glade or other. Robin Hood and Little John would appear.' 'What do they look like?'
    'They wear brown and green so that through the trees they cannot be seen. They are hooded with