Angus Donald - Holy warrior

‘He’s from serf stock, you know,’ said Murdac loudly. ‘No breeding, no manners.’ I stumbled slightly over the threshold, longing to be out of earshot. ‘An outlaw too,’ the little shit-weasel continued. ‘That was before he was pardoned by your royal brother. I had him in the cells once for his misdeeds but the slippery villain wriggled out of there somehow. Escaped…’

And I was through the door, and out into the huge courtyard of Nottingham castle. My legs were faltering beneath me and I found a stone mounting block to sit upon and, under scowling leaden skies, I slumped down and closed my eyes, hoping to wipe the shame and embarrassment from my mind. I concentrated on images of Sir Ralph Murdac begging for his life, tied to the rack, bloody and screaming for mercy, and was just beginning to feel slightly better when I heard the patter of running feet and opened my eyes to see a poorly dressed servant boy standing before me, panting and holding out one hand with the palm flat. On his palm were three greasy-looking silver pennies.

‘Sir, be-be-begging your pardon, sir, but this is your silver,’ said the boy.

For a moment I wondered if this was some fresh humiliation, dreamt up by Murdac and his new royal master. Then I looked again at the servant boy, at his earnest face and shabby clothes, his outstretched hand trembling slightly, and I knew it could not be. He was a fairly good-looking lad, about 11 or so, well-made and tall for his age, with light brown hair and brown eyes. I stared at him for a few moments and then said brusquely: ‘You keep it, boy.’

He looked distressed. ‘But, sir, it is your money. The prince gave it to you. A roy-roy-royal gift.’

‘I do not care to receive it,’ I said shortly. And then, realising that my public shaming had not been his fault, and that there was no reason to be unkind to him, I smiled: ‘Buy yourself something in the market, a pie or two, or get yourself a good new knife…’ He looked doubtful and I wondered if he was perhaps slow in the head, but suddenly I did not have the patience for him any longer and so I sat back on my stone block, closed my eyes and returned to my dark thoughts.

‘Please excuse my im-impertinence, sir,’ said the boy, breaking in on a delightful reverie in which Murdac was dangling by his thumbs over a pit filled with snakes. I opened my eyes; the boy was still there, but his hands were by his sides and the silver, I noticed, had disappeared. ‘If you will forgive me asking, sir, but did His Royal Highness say that you served the Earl of Locksley? The one the people call Robin Hood?’ His face was glowing with a strange excitement and he seemed to have wrested control over his stammer.

‘It is true, I do serve the Earl; I have that honour,’ I said, smiling again. I knew the boy’s type, and had met youngsters like him all over the country. He had heard the songs and legends about Robin Hood and his band of desperadoes and was entranced by the romance of the stories: a happy band of brothers, dining in woodland glades, sleeping under the stars, and running rings around the officers of the law. I could have told him a few tales of my own that would have changed his opinion of Robin, about bloody human sacrifice, and bold-faced theft and extortion, and the mutilation of enemies but, as usual, I refrained.

‘I would beg for the honour…’ the boy said and swallowed, ‘… of serving him. And I have news that con-con-concerns him.’

‘What news?’ I said.

‘Sir Ralph Murdac means to see your master dead.’

‘There is nothing new in that, boy — Sir Ralph and Robin of Sherwood have been enemies since before you were born,’ I said dismissively, and I closed my eyes again.

‘But Sir Ralph has made it known that he will give a hundred pounds of fine German silver for any man who kills him, and brings in his head,’ the boy said.

My eyes flashed open. I was stunned, speechless: I had no idea that Murdac had that amount of money to give away for one man’s death. ‘Where did you hear this?’ I asked.

‘I over-overheard Sir Ralph tell the captain of the castle guard to pass the message of the reward to his men.’ The boy looked at me anxiously. ‘If you give this information to the Earl, perhaps he will look favourably upon me and take me into his service,’ he said. His eyes were pleading.

I looked at him again, perhaps he wasn’t so slack-witted after all; and a bold idea began to grow in my head, a way to test the mettle of this boy, give myself some satisfaction, right a wrong, and strike at Ralph Murdac’s pride into the bargain.

‘What is your name, boy?’ I asked.

‘William, sir,’ he replied.

‘And you are employed here as a servant,’ I said.

‘Yes, sir. I work in the kitchens — but on feast days sometimes I am allowed to serve in the great hall.’

‘Do you truly wish to serve Robert of Locksley?’ I asked.

‘Yes, sir, I will serve him right well; I will serve him as a man of his kind deserves to be served. I swear by Our Lady Mary the Mother of God.’

‘If you wish to serve Robin, first you must serve me. Will you do that? And later, in a few months, you may be allowed join my master on the Great Pilgrimage to the Holy Land. That privilege carries with it the promise of Salvation, and exemption from all your sins. Would you like that?’ The boy nodded so fast and furiously, I feared he might break his neck.

‘But, William, and this is very important, you must not tell a soul that you are serving my lord Locksley until it is time to leave the castle to join your master. Can you do that?’

‘Yes, sir. I am new here at Nottingham, and all alone in the world, I have no friends or family to talk to.’ He looked down at his shoes. ‘My father was fou-foully murdered, sir, by thieves, and my mother died of grief soon afterwards.’ He was snivelling slightly and I felt sorry for the poor lad. I knew what it was to have no one.

‘Nevertheless, you may feel the urge to tell someone that you secretly serve the famous Robin Hood. It’s a natural urge. But, just remember, if you tell anyone about your service, you will never be allowed to join him. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘There is one more thing; you might think of it as a test of your loyalty to Robin. A proof that you truly wish to serve him faithfully.’

‘Tell me what it is, sir, I will do anything.’

‘There is an object, a jewel of great price that rightfully belongs to Robin’s lady Marie-Anne. But Sir Ralph Murdac has stolen it. He wears this jewel around his neck every day — have you seen it? It is a great red ruby — I want you to help me reclaim it for its rightful owner.’

He didn’t even blink at the thought of daylight robbery, but agreed immediately, working his head as vigorously as before; and I knew he was going to fit in fine with Robin’s men. So I put my arm around William’s shoulder and quietly explained to him what we were going to do and how it would be done.

I stayed in Nottingham for two more days, but not at the castle. I could not bear to remain there, where I might be called back into the presence of Prince John for another round of musical humiliation. I stayed instead at the house of an old friend, Albert, a crony from my days as a snot-nosed street-thief, when I would cut away the purses of rich merchants and rely on the thickness of the market crowds to hide me as I made my escape. Albert was an honest man now, and married; he lived in a one-room hovel in the poorest part of the old English borough of Nottingham. So he knew better than to ask about the job I was planning; he knew I was up to no good but he was content to tolerate my presence in his home for the friendship we had enjoyed in the past — and for the silver penny that I had promised him when my business was over.