Paul Doherty - Assassin in the Greenwood

'The problem is,' Corbett interrupted, 'what Robin and his coven do in between such actions. Where does he hide? Where does he go? Is he well guarded?'

He went back to the table, sifting amongst the papers there. He picked up a quill, sharpened it, dipped it in the ink horn and listed his conclusions.

'First, Robin Hood accepted the King's pardon in 1297, five years ago.' Corbett ran his finger down the report drawn up by the clerk at Westminster. 'Secondly, on the twenty-seventh of November, 1301, the chancery at Westminster issued a letter to Robin Hood, serving in the King's army in Scotland, granting his release from military service there and issuing a safe conduct for him and two companies to come south. On the same day, the royal clerks wrote a letter to Sir Eustace Vechey informing him that Robin Hood was returning to Nottingham, that he was still within the King's peace, was not to be molested and should be allowed to draw on the revenues of his manor at Locksley.

'Now.' Corbett looked up and stared at Ranulf. 'Our outlaw friend must have been back in Nottingham sometime in mid-December. Apparently he did not go back to Locksley but returned to Sherwood where he resumed his old life as an outlaw. At first a little poaching and the occasional assault, but by the spring of this year he was organising ambushes on merchants and convoys, culminating in the murderous attack on Willoughby and his retinue.' Corbett scratched his chin. 'He has the same people with him, a tall man whom Willoughby thought was Little John and a woman, Lady Mary, better known as Maid Marion. He appears to have been dressed in exactly the same way as before, clothed in brown and green, a hood over his head, his face half-masked.

'However, there are two differences. First, according to Brother William Scarlett, he is responsible for the death of some of his old band. Secondly, he robs the rich but there is very little evidence that he distributes his gains to the poor.' He looked up. 'Have I omitted anything, Ranulf?'

'No. The one thing which cannot be explained is the outlaw's change in conduct. He has become more ruthless, vicious even.'

'Umm!' Corbett nibbled the tip of the quill. 'That could be old age, growing cynicism, disillusionment with the King – God knows that would be easy-or determination to reinforce his authority over the outlaw gangs in Sherwood.'

'There are two other matters,' Ranulf added. 'First, he has a confidant here in the castle. Secondly, we suspect a link between the outlaw and The Blue Boar tavern. We could arrest the landlord there and put him to the question.'

Corbett shook his head. 'I doubt if he'd tell us much and we are wasting time on the minnows.' He stared down at the page and studied the dates. 'Let us think of Robin leaving the army in Scotland. Where would he go to first?'

'His home at Locksley.'

'And then where?'

'Brother William said Lady Mary entered the convent at Kirklees Priory.'

Corbett threw down the pen on the table. 'In which case he would have gone there. Whatever happens, Ranulf,' he continued, I'll give Maitote one more day, then I'll travel to Kirklees and Locksley to see what I can discover.'

They talked for a while, Corbett being drawn to the window as soldiers of the castle jeered at the two outlaws hobbling out of the gate. The sun began to set like a fiery ball in the west. Ranulf pleaded some excuse and slipped away, his mind full of the comely Amisia, as Corbett summoned up courage to write a letter to the King. He made it short and terse, openly stating that he had discovered nothing.

He'd hardly finished sealing it when a surly servant banged on the door, shouting that the evening meal was ready. Corbett washed and walked down to the main hall. He suddenly stopped half-way down; something he had just done had sparked a memory in his mind. He smiled, solemnly promising himself that he would pursue that line of thought at the proper time.

The evening meal proved to be quite a cheerful affair. Branwood viewed the capture of the outlaws as at least a minor victory against Robin Hood. Maigret was still absorbed in discovering the poison used to kill Vechey and described a long list of possible noxious substances. Corbett listened to them carefully but kept his own counsel. He knew that the traitor and Vechey's assassin was probably seated with them at table. He glanced at Roteboeuf and Friar Thomas who had returned from his parish church, and wondered when the traitor would make a mistake.

Darkness fell, more torches were lit. Ranulf returned much the worse for drink, drawing dark glances from the rest, so Corbett excused himself. He took a sconce torch and, with Physician Maigret still sonorously lecturing him about poisons, helped an unsteady Ranulf to the top of the keep. The cool night breeze whipped their hair. Corbett, who disliked heights, sat on a bench and stared up at the pinprick of stars, Ranulf half-dozing beside him.

I know why you are here.' Maigret abruptly changed the topic of conversation. 'Everyone in the castle is expecting the three fire arrows.'

'Why?' Corbett mused. 'Why does it happen?'

'God knows!' he answered. 'But I hear you took my advice, Sir Hugh.'

'Aye, and found the woman dead.'

'Too much death,' Ranulf mumbled. 'Master, when will you see Rahere?'

'When I return,' Corbett snapped.

He rose, walked to the battlements and stared down. In the pools of torchlight on the parapet beneath, he glimpsed Branwood, Naylor and other soldiers of the garrison, whilst horsemen milled around the postern gate.

'Every time it happens,' Maigret muttered, coming up behind him, 'Sir Peter sends riders into the city but they discover nothing.'

The bell of some distant church tolled for midnight. The peals had hardly died away when they heard a shout and looked up. A fire arrow streaked against the velvet blackness, followed by a second, then a third. For a while the arrows burnt fiercely against the darkness. Branwood shouted orders, the postern gate was thrown open and the riders clattered out but Corbett could see it was futile: the mysterious archer could have fired the arrows from the roof of any house, from garden or darkened alleyway.

Why three? he wondered as he helped Ranulf back to their chamber. Why three arrows on the thirteenth of every month?

Corbett made Ranulf as comfortable as possible and lay down on his own bed. He tried to recite three Aves but his mind was in turmoil. He now suspected the way in which Vechey had been poisoned but he must move cautiously. He was still distracted by such thoughts when, half-way through the third Ave, he fell asleep.

The two outlaws released by Corbett had hidden in the fields once they were clear of the city. They ached and found every step painful but were determined to put as much distance between themselves and Nottingham as possible. They ate what little food they had and drank from a brook. They, too, had glimpsed the fire arrows long before they stumbled on to the moonlit trackway which would lead them down to the Newark road. Their relief at being released soon died as they passed the gallows and followed the track through clumps of trees which seemed to crowd in on them from every side. They paused and cowered at the hoot of an owl or the sudden flurry of bracken as a hunting fox chased his quarry.

'We should have stayed in the city,' Nym moaned.

'Nonsense!' his companion muttered. 'The bastard sheriff may have changed his mind and Robin Hood has friends there.'

'Stay clear of The Blue Boar,' Nym replied.

They walked in single file. Nym glimpsed a break in the trees where the track met the Newark road. He breathed a sigh of relief which turned into a gasp of terror as six shadowy figures slipped from the trees, bows at the ready.

'We are poor men!' Nym wailed.