The Death of Robin Hood Read Online Free PDF Page A

and have their revenge. The English Master of the Templars, Sir Aymeric de St Maur, had told me he would do so himself.
    ‘I haven’t seen a Templar since Runnymede,’ I said. ‘Why? Are you worried?’
    ‘Not … worried. I do not think there is any immediate danger. But they sent someone to Kirkton, an elderly priest, St Maur’s chaplain, and he spent some time with Robin asking him about the movements of his men in June. Of course, Robin told him nothing and sent him packing soon enough, but it seems they are making enquiries. And, well, they are dogged men and I do not think they will cease their investigations until they have found the guilty man … whoever he is.’
    ‘If they ask, I will tell them nothing that could lead them to the killer. But I will tell them exactly what kind of filth Brother Geoffrey was and I shall also say that I would have butchered him myself had I had the chance and that I’d wager half a dozen other good men, fathers like me, might have had equal cause to end him.’
    ‘I don’t think we should go out of our way to antagonise the Templars, Alan,’ said Thomas. ‘I do not like the odds against us in a war with them. They have more power than any baron in the land. Far more than Robin. More even than the King, I’d venture. Certainly more silver. If it came to a battle between us – I wouldn’t wager on victory for our side.’
    I smiled at Thomas – I knew he had a weakness for games of chance, although he had sworn off the knucklebones to please his new bride. But he also seemed to have almost no sense of the absurdity of his words sometimes. For if it came to war with the Templars and he wagered on them winning, he would never be able to collect his winnings. A corpse claims no silver. ‘We will have no need to quarrel with them, Thomas.’ I said. ‘And Robin would never give you up to them. For that matter, I’d wade through bloodbefore I’d allow them to touch you. Do not fear, my friend.’
    Thomas gripped my shoulder. ‘Perhaps I am starting at shadows,’ he said. ‘Perhaps, if God is merciful, we will hear no more about this matter.’

Chapter Four
    Ifyou will allow me, my dear Anthony, I shall now continue with my tale of what befell us at Rochester that terrible autumn when King John’s Flemish mercenaries attacked from the river. On the bridge, Robin divided his small force of archers, setting ten men under his master bowman Mastin, a bald, furry-bodied, foul-mouthed rogue from Cheshire, at the northern end, and taking command of ten archers himself at the southern. I took up position in the centre of the structure, with Sir Thomas Blood at my shoulder and a dozen men-at-arms around me. My lord’s plan was simple. His bowmen would shoot into the oncoming boats – now less than a hundred and fifty yards away downstream – to kill as many of the enemy at a distance as possible and Thomas and I would deal with any who managed to make it through the arrow storm and on to the bridge.
    ‘They’re coming on damnably slowly,’ said Thomas, fidgeting with impatience beside me. He was right: we could make out the rowers struggling at their oars, these flashing weakly in the darkness as light from the lanterns reflected off the wet blades, but they were making pitiful progress, coming on slower than a tired man might walk.
    ‘They mustfight the flow of the water before they reach us,’ I said. ‘The river is trying to drag them out towards the sea. I thank God for it, for it gives Robin a little more time to—’
    At that moment, the Earl of Locksley’s men loosed. There was a sound like a rushing wind and a cloud of shafts sped away into the darkness towards the boats. An instant later, Mastin’s men on the far end of the bridge sent their volley to chase Robin’s. I saw two black shapes splash from the leading boat and heard the first sharp cries of pain, and then Robin and Mastin’s men found their rhythm: the creak of yew bows drawn to their fullest,