spent more than I should have. So, we have a problem. The King bids us join him in Lyons with all our forces in July - that’s what his letter said - and I have to transport four hundred men-at-arms, and two hundred horses, as well as a mountain of equipment, food, weapons and forage to France. And though the King has promised to recompense me for providing battle-ready men, I have yet to see any of his silver, and if I know royalty, I won’t see any before we parade inside the broken gates of Jerusalem.’ He paused, thinking for a moment. Then he said: ‘We need the Jews, Alan; we need Reuben.’
An hour later, Robin and myself were on the road, our horses’ noses pointing north towards York. We rode fast, just the two of us, unaccompanied by any of Robin’s men. This was unusual behaviour for a great man, and not a little dangerous, too: Robin had plenty of enemies between Sheffield and York who would be pleased to have him fall into their hands. Although he was no longer an outlaw, with the King abroad he could have been held for ransom by any avaricious baron; and then there was the matter of Murdac’s price on his head.
‘I don’t want to be bothered with a long train of servants and men-at-arms,’ said Robin when I raised my concerns about him travelling without protection. ‘And, besides, I’m taking you along to look after me,’ he grinned. ‘Are you not up to the job?’ I frowned at him. I knew why he wanted to travel light; he didn’t want anyone to know that he was short of money. He planned to visit Reuben, an old and trusted friend, arrange to borrow a large quantity of cash from the Jews of York, and be back in Kirkton in a couple of days. ‘Come on, Alan. We’ll travel in plain, ordinary clothes, a couple of pilgrims, but well armed and moving fast - no pomp, no fanfare, it’ll be just like the old days, we’ll have some fun ...’
And it was fun. I rarely got to spend time alone with Robin these days, and while I was still very slightly afraid of him - I never forgot that among other heinous crimes he had condoned the murder of his own brother - I always relished his company. And we were well armed: both of us in mail coats, Robin with his war bow and arrow bag, and a fine sword, myself with my old sword and poniard. I also wore my new sky blue embroidered hood, but that was only to annoy Robin and show him that, while I’d always be his loyal man, I cared not a fig for his hidebound ideas about headwear.
We pushed our horses hard for several hours and then, as night began to fall, we bivouacked in a small wood not far from Pontefract Castle. That great castle was held by Roger de Lacy, the new Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, and we could have received a welcome worthy of an Earl in his stone hall, had we chosen; but Robin wanted to keep his journey secret; and I was happy for as few people as possible to know that Robin was roaming the countryside with only one armed retainer. I think too, in hindsight, that Robin occasionally found the trappings of his earldom a heavy burden and he longed for a return to the simple life of an outlaw; although he had never yet actually voiced this feeling to me.
Robin had brought cold roast beef, typically ignoring the fact that it was Lent, in fact, only five days away from Easter Sunday, and according to Church law we were supposed to be eschewing meat of any kind. He also brought bread, onions and a skin of wine and we made a cheerful camp with a small fire under a great spreading oak. And after we’d eaten, as the sparks danced above the fire, we wrapped ourselves in our warm green cloaks and sat cross-legged around the cheerful blaze, with our weapons close at hand. Robin took a long pull from the half-full wine skin before passing it to me. I drank deeply and passed it back.
‘Do you think Murdac actually has a hundred pounds of German silver?’ I asked him, wiping my mouth.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Every man within a hundred
An hour later, Robin and myself were on the road, our horses’ noses pointing north towards York. We rode fast, just the two of us, unaccompanied by any of Robin’s men. This was unusual behaviour for a great man, and not a little dangerous, too: Robin had plenty of enemies between Sheffield and York who would be pleased to have him fall into their hands. Although he was no longer an outlaw, with the King abroad he could have been held for ransom by any avaricious baron; and then there was the matter of Murdac’s price on his head.
‘I don’t want to be bothered with a long train of servants and men-at-arms,’ said Robin when I raised my concerns about him travelling without protection. ‘And, besides, I’m taking you along to look after me,’ he grinned. ‘Are you not up to the job?’ I frowned at him. I knew why he wanted to travel light; he didn’t want anyone to know that he was short of money. He planned to visit Reuben, an old and trusted friend, arrange to borrow a large quantity of cash from the Jews of York, and be back in Kirkton in a couple of days. ‘Come on, Alan. We’ll travel in plain, ordinary clothes, a couple of pilgrims, but well armed and moving fast - no pomp, no fanfare, it’ll be just like the old days, we’ll have some fun ...’
And it was fun. I rarely got to spend time alone with Robin these days, and while I was still very slightly afraid of him - I never forgot that among other heinous crimes he had condoned the murder of his own brother - I always relished his company. And we were well armed: both of us in mail coats, Robin with his war bow and arrow bag, and a fine sword, myself with my old sword and poniard. I also wore my new sky blue embroidered hood, but that was only to annoy Robin and show him that, while I’d always be his loyal man, I cared not a fig for his hidebound ideas about headwear.
We pushed our horses hard for several hours and then, as night began to fall, we bivouacked in a small wood not far from Pontefract Castle. That great castle was held by Roger de Lacy, the new Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, and we could have received a welcome worthy of an Earl in his stone hall, had we chosen; but Robin wanted to keep his journey secret; and I was happy for as few people as possible to know that Robin was roaming the countryside with only one armed retainer. I think too, in hindsight, that Robin occasionally found the trappings of his earldom a heavy burden and he longed for a return to the simple life of an outlaw; although he had never yet actually voiced this feeling to me.
Robin had brought cold roast beef, typically ignoring the fact that it was Lent, in fact, only five days away from Easter Sunday, and according to Church law we were supposed to be eschewing meat of any kind. He also brought bread, onions and a skin of wine and we made a cheerful camp with a small fire under a great spreading oak. And after we’d eaten, as the sparks danced above the fire, we wrapped ourselves in our warm green cloaks and sat cross-legged around the cheerful blaze, with our weapons close at hand. Robin took a long pull from the half-full wine skin before passing it to me. I drank deeply and passed it back.
‘Do you think Murdac actually has a hundred pounds of German silver?’ I asked him, wiping my mouth.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Every man within a hundred
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