Paul Doherty - Assassin in the Greenwood

Corbett nodded. Ranulf was correct: the outlaw and his band could roam the greenwood, plundering at their will. Other outlaws did the same in forests up and down the kingdom. So why attract attention to himself?

'Sir Peter, my manservant's question is significant.'

The under-sheriff shrugged and spread his hands.

'First, Sir Eustace issued a proclamation saying this Robin of Locksley or Robin Hood should be killed on sight. He also called him a coward, a caitiff and a traitor. The outlaw replied by demanding Sir Eustace do public penance for his remarks or suffer the consequences. Sir Eustace refused and…'His voice trailed off.

'But why poison?' Corbett insisted. 'Why not in public as Sir Eustace was travelling through the town?'

'Master Clerk, you have served as a soldier?'

'Yes, I have.'

'You have seen men lose their courage? Well, so did Sir Eustace. He refused to venture out of the castle. He became obsessed with the idea that there was a traitor here in the castle, perhaps in his very household. Vechey changed. He was nervous, agitated, neglecting himself and drinking far too much.'

Corbett stared round. Too many ears here, he thought. He leant over and whispered in Sir Peter's ear. The sheriff looked at the guards and Lecroix. 'You may go.'

The soldiers hastened from the hall but Lecroix was sluggish. Dragging at his straggling moustache, he shuffled to the door then abruptly turned round.

'My master was tidy,' he declared as if refuting Ranulf's and Branwood's assertion.

'What do you mean?' Corbett asked.

'Nothing,' Lecroix replied. 'He was just tidy, especially in his own chamber.' And he shuffled out.

Corbett waited until the door closed then turned to Roteboeuf.

'You are the clerk of the castle as well as Vechey's secretarius?'

The young man cheerfully nodded.

'Did he say anything to you? Anything at all?'

'No. Sir Eustace kept to himself, glowering and throwing dark looks at everyone.'

'I tried to speak to him,' Father Thomas put in. 'But he told me to look after my own business and he would look after his.'

'And you, Sir Peter, why should Robin Hood try and kill you?' Corbett caught the glint of hatred in the man's eyes. 'Sir Peter?'

The sheriff splayed out his fingers and studied them carefully.

'Eight years ago I was travelling north through Barnsleydale. I was and still am hoping to marry the Lady Margaret Percy. I had bought her a piece of silk, costly and very precious. Robin Hood and his outlaws stopped me, took my gifts, stripped me naked, tied me to my horse and left me to public ridicule.'

You hate well, Corbett 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 concluded. 'Sir Peter, what do you propose now?'

'Tomorrow morning,' the under-sheriff replied, 'I intend to take a company into Sherwood Forest. I suggest, Sir Hugh, that you come with us.'

'Is that safe?' Corbett asked.

'No, Master Clerk, it isn't. But what can I do? Stay shut up in the castle like some widow in mourning? I am the King's officer in these parts. I cannot allow Robin Hood to ride roughshod over the King's authority here.'

'Shouldn't we wait for Gisborne?'

'Gisborne can do what he wants!' Branwood snapped. 'Now, you wished to see Vechey's chamber?'

Corbett nodded and Branwood, dismissing the rest apart from Naylor, led them up a spiral stone staircase to the second floor. The dead sheriff's room was still sealed and locked. Branwood removed the wax, opened the door and waved Corbett in.