Archer

by Jacky Gray

  ‘What’s your cousin like?’ Archer had no family.

  ‘Leathan? He’s solid. A couple of years older than me. He said he’ll take us to his senior guild, with full strength ale and a drummer band. They’re really good.’

  ‘A pipe and drum band?’ Finn had often mocked the roving bands who went round the country playing old marching tunes at the festivals. ‘That’s the sort of stuff my father likes.’

  ‘No, these are completely different; it’s Celtic tribal music. Really wild.’

  ‘Celtic you say? Ah well that’s different. My ancestors are from Ireland. The home of good music.’ Finn’s family were proud of their heritage.

  ‘Actually it’s Scottish, but I don’t suppose it makes much difference. The point is, it’s a chance to go and find out what the seniors get up to.’

  The boys were fairly subdued on the next stretch, the combination of food in their bellies and the heat of the sun making them nod off. They followed the path for a while before coming to another small hamlet. An inn called the Open Arms claimed to serve the best ale outside of Oxford. After dismounting, they stretched stiff muscles as Fletch outlined their options. ‘We have a choice. We could stop here or carry on to Didcot. The food might be cheaper there.’

  ‘It’s getting hot and the horses will need a break. How much further is it?’

  ‘About five miles to Didcot.’

  ‘How much further to Oxford?’ Archer wanted the full story, but Fletch wasn’t going to make it easy.

  ‘Five more to Dorchester and then another nine onto Hinksey.’

  The innkeeper came over then with a welcoming smile. ‘Hello boys, is that a pitcher of ale and three beakers?’

  ‘Not sure. We’re trying to decide whether to press on a bit.’

  ‘Where have you come from?

  ‘Aveburgh.’

  ‘And you’re bound for Oxford?’

  ‘Hinksey actually.’

  ‘Well then your horses will need a good rest. It’s almost five hours if you go through Dorchester, but if you cross the Isis at Culham, it’s just over three hours and you’ll have cut five miles off the journey.’ He paused to let them work it out, then came the clincher. ‘Your horses will be thanking you, most of the journey follows the Isis so they can stop and have a drink whenever they want.’

  ‘But we’ll have to pay a toll at the bridge.’ Fletch knew about these things.

  ‘Not if you eat here, you merely pay half of the toll price.’

  ‘Sounds like a good deal. Three ales please.’ Finn wanted a break.

  ‘Are you juniors?’

  They glanced at each other; it had all been going so well.

  The innkeeper smiled. ‘You don’t look long for graduation, I’ll only water it down a little. Don’t want you falling off your horses. I won’t charge full price, you seem like nice lads.’ He turned to go, then pointed over at a barn. ‘There’s hay and a trough for the horses, all included.’

  They led their mounts over to the dark barn. Although stuffy, with a strong animal smell, it appeared clean and well cared for. ‘This place is great. I bet he gets a lot of custom with these extras thrown in.’ Finn seemed pleased to be stopping.

  ‘You haven’t seen the prices yet.’ Archer was more wary. He shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s a good site.’

  ‘Let’s just hope there’s enough to eat.’ Fletch only cared about one thing.

  Archer tried to convince himself they’d made the right decision as Fletch continued.

  ‘Besides, he couldn’t really afford to swindle us, we’d tell everyone in Aveburgh and he’d lose a lot of business.’

  ‘If the food’s good and it saves us time, who cares?’

  ‘If the toll thing works.’

  ‘Archer you are just too suspicious for your own good.’

  If only that were true.

  13 Renegates

  Archer knew it had all seemed too good to be true. The food was delicious; they had two beakers of ale each, then lay down in the dense shade of a huge linden tree. The innkeeper woke them up a while later and they paid a fair price considering the amount of food they and their horses had eaten. He gave them tokens for the toll bridge, telling them his cousin was the toll-keeper and the deal worked well both ways. His cousin recommended the inn to anyone going through, and gave them a token for a free pitcher of ale, so they helped each other’s business.

  Fletch tried to work out the way on his map, but the bridges were not marked. Everything they had talked about earlier was forgotten as the innkeeper marked the sites with a cross. He promised that if they travelled north-west for six miles they would come to the river.

  ‘How will we know whether to go East or West when we get to the river?’

  ‘There are signs every three hundred paces telling you the distances to the bridges at Culham and Clifton. My cousin and the other keeper put them up.’

  ‘So we could simply go to the nearest.’

  ‘Yes you could. However, Clifton would be an extra hour’s travel and you’d have to pay more because it’s a different toll-keeper.’ He gave them a parcel of oatcakes for the rest of the journey and sent them on their way with a smile.

  ‘Thanks a lot, you’ve been most generous.’ Finn waved as they set off.

  ‘Don’t worry if you get it wrong. Those tokens can be used at any time. You could even use them on your way back.’

  ‘Thanks again.’ Archer was in a hurry to get off before Fletch could let the whole world know their plans.

  As they found the path, Fletch patted his belly. ‘All in all, a most pleasant experience. I feel completely recharged.’

  Archer smiled; he too felt warm and sated, although when he thought about it later, probably a lot less vigilant than he ought to have been.

  To wake them up a bit after the long doze, they set the horses off at a fast trot until they reached the river. The toll keeper, a younger, thinner version of the innkeeper, was jovial. He pointed out the way through to the next curve of the Isis. There, they could pick up the well-worn path which would take them all the way into Oxford. This kindness only served to drop their guard even more. That and the comfortable warmth of the sun beating down on their backs as they followed the last bend of the river before it headed north to Oxford.

  In their relaxed state, they missed the north turn, overshot the path and were faced with a forest. Skirting back round it, they were unaware they had attracted the attention of a band of Renegates. Before they even realised the danger, they were surrounded by a group of howling demons, their faces adorned with frightening patterns in a dark green dye.

  All their lives, they had heard stories of these people and the strongest advice was to show no fear. Apparently they valued courage above anything else, even honour. Despite the doziness which still fogged their brains, the three boys immediately sat up in their seats and inched their nervous horses together in a battle formation, protecting each other’s backs. The outlaws took this as a challenge, racing round them in ever-decreasing circles until the boys could smell the rank combination of sweaty horse, unwashed bodies and a large helping of ale.

  ‘Hold your ground,’ hissed Finn as Fletch’s horse nickered, rearing up. Soothing words and gestures did not seem to calm him, as he picked up on his young master’s apprehension and the threat posed by the huge, snorting rounceys. With no visible signal, every horse came to an abrupt halt and they stood, nose to tail in a perfect circle. It was an exceptional display of precision and, despite the dread that turned his insides to liquid, Archer could not help but be impressed with their skill. He could see three of them without moving his head and estimated there must be between six and eight of them.

  Fletch’s horse had calmed down and the three boys waited; they knew enough not to make the first move. Archer fixed his gaze on a neutral point on the chestnut rump in front of him. He did not want to appear too bold by looking any of them in the eye, nor too cowed by staring down. Finn’s natural aggression and brief
command must have singled him out as a leader. A shaggy giant broke the circle and approached him. ‘You, ugly. Who are you and what are you doing here?’

  Finn hesitated, he would be wary of giving them information they could use, but there was no harm in giving their names. ‘Finn, Fletch and Archer. We come to Oxford to talk to the Bowman.’

  ‘Bowman eh?’ He raised an eyebrow and looked round at his companions. ‘Did you hear that lads? We’ve got an Archer and a Fletcher off to see a Bowman. Sounds like a good tale. So why did they bring you along Finn? Are you the bard?’

  ‘No, I’m the convey.’

  Archer tried to keep the frustration out of his expression. Why would Finn say something like that? It was nothing less than an open challenge, saying he was there to protect them.

  The leader of the gang hooted with laughter. ‘What about that? This stripling here is going to fight off all the evil men who try to rob his little band.’ They all laughed with him and Archer knew the humiliation Finn must be feeling.

  ‘So you’re going to fend us off with what? Your fists?’ He got close and pretended to aim a few punches at Finn’s head, pulling them just before impact. Archer gradually nudged Apollo round so he could see them. He was proud of the way Finn didn’t flinch a muscle as the man continued to try and provoke a response. ‘Well I see no sword, maybe there’s a dagger hidden under that fine tabard of yours. Take it off boy.’

  Finn looked at him, a neutral expression on his face. Archer knew he must be desperate inside. He would not want to lose the soft leather jacket, a present from his grandmother. Finn wore it with pride, even on the hottest days.

  ‘I said, take it off boy,’ the man shouted, ‘unless you want me to take it off you.’ The other men were enjoying the sport and Archer saw his chance while they were all distracted. In a movement too fast for them to react, his bow was in his hand. Three paces from the man’s head, an arrow pointed directly at his ear, the quickest path to the brain. The men’s good humour turned to a nasty murmur as most of them drew swords, but the leader held up his hand.

  ‘Whoa, lads, calm yourselves.’ As he spoke, the man’s horse seemed restless, skittering a few steps at a time. Archer remained unperturbed, keeping the arrow directed at the man’s ear, now little more than a pace away.

  ‘Looks like I picked on the wrong boy. You must be Archer; I’m Hereward, pleased to meet you.’

  The Renegate leader held out his hand for a clasp. Archer refused to be caught by that old trick. He’d fought too many times against boys who would best him with similar tactics. Keeping his voice even, he said, ‘Let us go, we’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Oh but you have. You’ve wandered into our territory, and for that you must pay the toll.’

  ‘We barely have enough money for food and lodgings.’ Fletch didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.

  ‘In that case, you must give us something of the same value. We’ll take his jacket and your mate’s bow. And if you can’t find something of worth to give us, you’ll be sleeping under the stars and eating berries like we do.’

  Archer thought the man appeared far too relaxed for someone with a lethal weapon pointing at him. His warrior senses were on full alert as the man behind started to inch his restless horse closer. ‘If he doesn’t move back, this arrow will tear your brain out of your other ear and then he’ll get one through his eye.’

  Hereward laughed at the claim. ‘Look lads, we’ve run into a proper Robin Hood. Got eyes in the back of his head as well. Get back Goran. I think we have no choice but to let these Lionhearts through with no toll for their courage and daring.’

  Archer was still not convinced. Fletch’s horse chose that moment to protest at being held so still for so long, shaking his head and whinnying. Because it was not a threat, it broke through Archer’s concentration and his eyes flickered toward the source of the noise. Hereward needed no more than that. In the blink of an eye, his sword deflected Archer’s bow releasing the arrow to wedge itself harmlessly into the ground. Shortly after, the three of them were lying on the ground, stripped of their jackets and money bags which lay in a pile. The Renegates were rifling through their saddle bags, exclaiming with glee at the food.

  At a word from their leader, the boys were hauled up and each held between two burly men. Hereward stood with Archer’s quiver over his shoulder, bending the bow as if testing its breaking point. ‘So Archer, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just snap this in two, take the rest of your fine clothes and leave you to run back home with your tails between your legs?’

  14 William Tell

  Archer’s face was expressionless as he regarded his latest tormenter. ‘Because then you’d never know if I could deliver on my claim.’

  Hereward brought the bow down, chuckling to himself. ‘Well you’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.’ He examined the bow. ‘And it would be a shame to destroy a perfectly serviceable weapon. Make it yourself did you?’ Archer nodded. ‘I can see why you’re on your way to meet this master craftsman.’ His implied insult, designed to sting Archer, had no effect other than to raise a chuckle from the men who had come closer to witness the nerve of this whelp.

  ‘So, you said you could fire a shaft through one of my ears and it would come out the other eh?’ He frowned. ‘That’s a fine claim to make and we’re going to test it. Here you go boy, take aim.’

  He held out the bow and Archer didn’t rise, knowing he would snatch it away at the last second. Another trick he’d seen way too many times to fall for it again. He expected the man would be angered by his refusal to be intimidated and was surprised when he chuckled.

  ‘Been caught like that before, eh? More than once, I’ll warrant. Well I’m not about to test your claim on me. No, I think we’ll use one of your friends. Goran, tie the little one to that post over there. Turn him so Robin gets a good view of his ear.’

  Archer knew enough about the character of men to judge this was still a tease, but Fletch didn’t, struggling and fighting his captors until one of them gave him a clout. Although Finn had been fairly cool until then, he had his limits, breaking free and shouting, ‘Leave him alone, you monsters.’ All he got for his troubles was a cuff which sent him back to the ground.

  A flicker of doubt crept into Hereward’s assurance as he appraised Archer. ‘You’re quite the cold one aren’t you? Your mother been feeding you too much raw fish? Can’t she afford the red meat? Is that it? Are you the poor relation? The servant to these two fine squires?’

  Archer would have retaliated to defend the name of his mother, but since he didn’t know her, there was little point. He had no doubt Ganieda would counsel him to hold his ground; she would not be hurt by the insults of such a man.

  He could sense Finn’s outrage at his failure to defend her honour and wished he could explain, but he would not give this ruffian the satisfaction of a single unnecessary word. He kept his expression neutral. Eventually the man would tire of his baiting and get to the point. Archer wanted full command of all of his energies at that moment. It seemed to have arrived.

  ‘Right, the challenge is this. I place an apple on the squire’s head. What’s his name? Fletch. If you can put an arrow through it you can keep your clothes. If he can keep still enough so there’s not a mark on him, you can keep your horses.’

  Archer thought for a moment and sized up the situation, knowing the man was likely to change the rules after he’d agreed. ‘I can stand wherever I want?’

  The reluctant grin told Archer he’d planned just such a trick. He was, however, gracious in his admiration of the boy’s cunning. ‘Yes. You can choose your position.’

  ‘Then let’s make it interesting. Why don’t we say that if I can make the apple hit the tree behind him, we keep all our belongings? Apart from the food you’ve already eaten. And you guide us to the edge of your territory so we have no more trouble.’

  The other Renegates were starting to nudge each other at the boy’s audacity and Hereward obvi
ously felt he had to re-establish his authority somehow. ‘What’s in it for me? Why would I agree to your terms?’

  ‘Because you’ve already detained us far longer than you needed to. You’ve eaten all our food and had a lot of sport at our expense. That much entertainment at a theatre would have cost you dearly.’

  Hereward’s admiration was quite open as he clapped his hands slowly. ‘Bravo Robin, or should I call you William Tell? Fire the apple into the tree indeed. What about if you fail?’

  Archer considered for a moment. ‘Then we will give you the same price we paid for the toll across the river. But we still keep all our possessions. Otherwise this becomes a robbery and despite the tales our parents try to scare us with, you seem like men of honour.’ Several of the men straightened their spines a little at this and he softened his tone slightly. ‘Men who are simply trying to survive with the wits the Gods gave them.’

  Hereward shook his head slowly. ‘My, my Robin, I wish I could keep you. You could teach my rabble a thing or two about courage. And you have a pretty turn of phrase which would indeed keep us entertained for the long eves.’ He spat on his hand and offered it to Archer, who clasped it like a man to seal the bargain. ‘Just one thing, Archer, and I can see from your face you knew there would be a condition. No, in fact two. You will only be given one arrow to perform this miracle. Can’t have you getting any ideas about a second shaft into my eye or whatever you said. And my bowmen here will have three arrows pointed at you which they will release if you so much as breathe in the wrong direction.’

  Archer nodded, he had expected nothing less. ‘And the second condition?’

  ‘You will perform this feat with your eyes closed. That will serve you well for your boldness.’

  Finn and Fletch gasped – it just wasn’t possible.

  15 Men of Honour

  Having got the desired reaction from at least two of the three, Hereward held up his hand and gestured as though bestowing a great favour. ‘No, only jesting. You will do it on horseback.’