Wolf's Head (The Forest Lord)

by Steven A McKay

  “To invite you to dinner,” replied Robin.

  The men looked at each other in bemusement, but both drew their swords, sensing the danger they were in.

  Robin gestured up at the high verges on either side of the road. The knights looked and saw a dozen men pointing longbows directly at them.

  Will Scarlet, Friar Tuck and the great figure of Little John emerged from the trees to the front and rear of the two mounted men.

  “I ask again: what is it you want?” said the big Hospitaller. “I assume you mean to rob us. I can assure you we have no money, that’s why we’re even on this damn road. So you’re wasting your time.” Despite the overwhelming numbers arrayed against him and his sergeant he seemed fed-up, rather than frightened.

  Robin smiled. “You take us for common outlaws, Sir Richard. We see few visitors in the forest, and simply wanted you to share dinner with us. You can tell us the tale of why you’re in this damn forest.”

  The second Hospitaller growled. “They’re only peasants, my lord. Let’s just kill them and be on our way. Look.” He pointed into the trees at Matilda. “They even have women fighting with them!”

  Sir Richard-at-Lee looked again at the bowmen around him, and the other armed men on the road. He had dealt with highwaymen before. Generally, such men were poorly disciplined, poorly trained and poorly armed. They would normally shout and make insults at their victims, their bravado often masking their own fear.

  These men were not like that. They stared at the Hospitallers in confident, and unnerving, silence. They had the look of well-trained soldiers. The bowmen, Sir Richard felt certain, could each put an arrow through even the Hospitallers’ thick plate mail. If he were to take his sergeant’s advice and attack these wolf’s heads, he wasn’t convinced they would be able to kill even one of them before they were cut down themselves.

  “Put your sword away, Stephen,” said the grey-bearded knight with a sigh, sheathing his own weapon. “It seems we shall dine with these men. We could do with a decent meal anyway.”

  * * *

  Back at their camp, the outlaws relieved the Hospitallers of their weapons. The sergeant had protested, but, as Robin said with a wink, “You would surrender your weapons when you enter a lord’s manor house, wouldn’t you? Well, this” – and he spread his arms wide, to encompass the greenwood around them – “is our house.”

  The sergeant bristled at Robin’s arrogance, while the outlaws laughed, and even Sir Richard smiled a little. He liked this exuberant young man with the pretty girl by his side. He reminded him of his murdered son.

  He just hoped the wolf’s heads’ would allow them to leave their camp alive…

  There was a big cauldron of pottage bubbling over their campfire. Whatever the outlaws had available that day had been tossed into the pot. The rabbits Robin and John had caught, some old cabbages that were turning to black and almost spoiled, a few leeks, some mouldy bread, even a couple of old apples.

  It was simple fare, but better than many people enjoyed at this time of year, and Friar Tuck knew how to add a touch of salt, parsley or garlic so that it tasted much nicer than it should have.

  Robin himself filled a couple of bowls and handed them to Sir Richard and his grimacing sergeant, Stephen, along with some dark barley and rye bread. He gave them ale as well, and accepted Richard’s thanks with a grin, before sitting down and getting stuck into his own food.

  “So,” Robin began, shoving a slice of meat into his mouth, “you look like you’ve fallen on hard times.” He chewed as he looked at the big Hospitaller. “What happened?”

  Richard’s sergeant put his bowl down angrily. “Sir Richard’s business has fuck all to do with you, wolf’s head.”

  The outlaws ignored the man, and Robin continued to eat, looking at Sir Richard, eyebrows raised curiously.

  “Peace, Stephen. Finish your pottage,” said the knight. His man swore, but picked up his bowl and began to eat again, the rage plain on his face.

  “It’s no secret,” Richard-at-Lee went on, smiling sadly as he swallowed some of his ale. His face dropped again though, as he continued. “My son, God rest him, was in trouble, and, as a result, I owe a great deal of money to the abbot of St Mary’s in York. I’ve just been visiting Lord John de Bray in Hathersage to ask him for a loan so I can repay the abbot, but de Bray laughed in my face. The bastard wants to buy some of my lands from the abbot, to increase his own manor. I should have known he wouldn’t help me. My loss will be his gain.”

  Friar Tuck laughed humourlessly. “If you owe Abbot Ness money, you had better pray to Our Lord for help. That one will bleed you dry.”

  Sir Richard nodded grimly at the friar. “You have it right, brother. I mortgaged my lands to Ness so I could pay bail for my son, who killed a man – accidentally – in a jousting tournament. He was arrested purely to extort money from me. The abbot’s demanding repayment now or he’ll seize my lands and I’ll lose everything. Of course, the church has strict laws against usury, but no one seems to care. Anyway…that’s why I was passing through ‘your’ forest.” He smiled sadly at Robin. “I’ve been to every lord within a hundred miles trying to borrow the money to repay my debt. That bastard abbot – or the king – must have warned them all not to help me. I haven’t managed to raise so much as a shilling.” His voice trailed off and he stared into the fire sadly. “Hugh Despenser had my son murdered. I’m paying a debt for nothing.”

  “You must have noble friends that could help you,” Little John said, but the knight shook his head.

  “The only one who could help me repay such a huge debt is the Earl of Lancaster, but he has troubles of his own just now – I haven’t had the effrontery to approach him for money.”

  The outlaws had all heard of the earl – a noble lord who actually stood up for the poorest people in his manors. He had petitioned King Edward II for aid on behalf of his tenants whose crops had failed for the past couple of years. As lords went, the earl of Lancaster was a popular one with the lower classes, including the people of Wakefield. Robin had heard his mother and father talking well of the earl many times when he was growing up, as had Much and Matilda.

  However, it was common knowledge in the villages around Barnsdale that the king had ignored the earl’s petition and relations were strained between the two powerful men. Sir Richard also knew Lancaster needed all his coin to pay for the army he would need to stand against the king.

  “What about your Order?” Tuck wondered. “The Hospitallers have more money than they know what to do with, especially these days, since the Templars were disbanded and much of their wealth was passed to you.”

  Sir Richard shook his head in consternation again. “You haven’t been keeping up with things in the wider world, have you, friar? The English Prior of the Hospitallers – Thomas L’Archer – is a senile old fool. He’s ruined us, financially, in this country. I’d have more luck making a pact with the devil!”

  The men sat in silence for a moment, eating and drinking, before Matilda asked, “How much do you owe this abbot of St Mary’s?”

  “One hundred pounds,” Sir Richard replied, to gasps and whistles from the outlaws.

  “That’s a lot of money,” Will grunted sympathetically.

  “State the fucking obvious,” Stephen muttered sarcastically.

  “Oh give it a rest,” Sir Richard told his sergeant. “These men have fed us and been good hosts. Have some courtesy.”

  “Good hosts?” Stephen replied. “They’ll be robbing us as soon as we’re finished this food.”

  Robin looked at the man, then nodded to Much and the youngster Gareth.

  “Search their packs.”

  “See!”

  Sir Richard laughed. “Stephen, what are they going to steal from us? We have nothing!”

  Much and Gareth went through the Hospitallers’ packs, but turned up only a few small silver coins.

  “They’re telling the truth, Robin,” said Much, after he counted it all. “There�
�s only a few marks here.”

  The young outlaw leader finished off the last of his ale and smiled at the Hospitaller. “I think we may be able to help each other, Sir Richard-at-Lee.”

  The knight raised his eyes to the sky and, with a hopeful smile, made the sign of the cross.

  * * *

  After discussions with Richard and his sergeant, plans were made and preparations begun to rob Lord de Bray’s manor house.

  Sir Richard and Stephen had helped the outlaws draw up a more complete map of the building, as they had spent time in the areas reserved for noble guests. Along with what Robin and Allan were able to recall from their short time there, they had a fairly detailed plan of de Bray’s house to work from.

  Sir Richard would make another visit to the manor house, ostensibly to plead again for a loan from de Bray. He and Stephen would wait until the dead of night, and then open the gates for the outlaws to come in and ransack the place.

  Will Scarlet was desperate to get moving.

  “I’m going to skin that bastard de Bray alive, for what he did to me and my family,” he said to Robin, after the other outlaws, and Sir Richard, had gone to sleep.

  Robin shook his head.

  “No you’re not – not yet. If we kill him, the king and all the lords in England will come for us. We’ll never survive the winter with so many people hunting us. We’re simply going to steal his money and whatever supplies we can carry.”

  Will looked angrily at his young leader, but it was a sign of his new found respect for Robin that he didn’t start a heated argument.

  “You seem to know what you’re doing.” Scarlet sighed. “Rescuing Beth and saving us from Adam proved that. So I’ll accept what you’re saying for now. But I want revenge on that piece of shit. I will have it.”

  Robin laid a hand on his friend’s arm. “You’ll have it, Will. But we can’t just murder him. That much is obvious. Murdering a lord would bring the king’s attention on us. If we think we have it hard now, it would be ten times worse if we just wander in and kill de Bray.”

  Scarlet shrugged, but looked away in defeat – Robin was right, they had to think of the bigger picture. “I suppose not.”

  “It’s almost Christmas,” Robin said, with a sly smile.

  “So what?”

  “Lord de Bray relies on his tenants’ good will and hard work to keep him as wealthy as he is. One of the things he does to keep those tenants loyal is to provide a Christmas feast for them.”

  Scarlet nodded, but still looked confused. “Aye, I know, I remember being at his Christmas feasts with my family. Before he murdered them…”

  “How are the people of Hathersage going to react when they hear their Lord won’t be providing their feast this Christmas? Many of them are almost starving as it is – the lord’s Christmas meal might be the only chance of a filling meal they’ll have all winter.”

  Will thought about that and smiled. “They’ll be pissed off. De Bray won’t be popular. It’s not like he is anyway – everyone in the village knows he’s an evil bastard.”

  Robin nodded with a sly smile. “We’ll take all his food so he can’t provide a feast, and all his money so he can’t pay his guards. Then we’ll stir up trouble in the village, and the people will turn against him. John de Bray will be ruined.”

  “He’ll lose his lands!” Will laughed wickedly. “He’ll find himself in a worse place than Sir Richard is in just now, but without us outlaws to help him.”

  Robin grinned back at Scarlet. “And then, when he’s landless and penniless, and a nobody…”

  Will’s face became hard again. “Then, I can kill him.”

  “Aye, and afterwards we’ll provide the villagers with some of the food we steal so they see us as heroes,” Robin smiled.

  Will glanced at his young companion thoughtfully. It would never have occurred to him to use the situation to impress the people of Hathersage. Clearly the young yeoman from Wakefield had picked up the skill of self-promotion from Adam Gurdon, along with so much of his military expertise.

  “I’m glad you’re on my side, Hood,” he laughed. “You’re a devious bastard.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Two days later, in the middle of November, the outlaws gathered up their weapons, put on whatever armour they had cobbled together, and headed for Hathersage. Robin took Will Scaflock, Little John, Matt Groves, Allan-a-Dale, Much and four other men he felt were trustworthy – and skilled – enough to pull off such a dangerous raid. Matilda stayed at the camp with the rest of the men.

  The Hospitaller knight Sir Richard, and his sergeant, Stephen, had gone on ahead and gained entry into Lord de Bray’s manor house, to beg again for aid from the lord.

  Robin had gone with Will Scarlet into Hathersage village to speak to Wilfred the baker, who was overjoyed to see his old friend again. The outlaws needed a wagon to remove de Bray’s valuables and food, and Wilf’s was as good as any, assuming they could get him to agree to their plan. Robin didn’t see a problem in that, and sure enough, Wilf was more than happy to help out.

  Little John and the rest of the outlaws had found a place near de Bray’s house, well hidden amongst the trees, and far enough from the road that no unwary traveller would stumble across them.

  There, they waited for night to fall. Some of the men played dice, some of them drank ale to bolster their nerve, although Little John made sure no one drank too much and still had their wits about them. Tonight called for balls and bravery, not drunken over-confidence.

  “Right men,” Robin said quietly, appearing with Will from the darkened road to Hathersage. “Gather round.”

  He pulled a rolled-up piece of parchment from his pack, and spread it out on an old tree stump.

  “Wilfred the Baker has agreed to bring his cart along for us to fill with de Bray’s stuff. And Sir Richard and Stephen helped us draw a map of the manor house. They’ve been in the guests’ quarters. Me and Allan have also been here before, in the servants’ areas. So, with all our knowledge combined, we have a pretty comprehensive plan of the place. It’s not complete, obviously. There’s parts of this manor house that none of us have ever seen – the upper floor, for example, where Lord de Bray’s bed chamber is. But we know roughly how big the house is, and we know roughly how many guards there will be in the place at this time of year.”

  “How many?” Matt Groves asked.

  “We doubt there will be any more than five armed guards,” Robin replied. “We don’t expect them to be hardened soldiers for the most part. If they have been soldiers, they’re probably older men, past their prime.”

  The outlaws nodded.

  “Don’t think it’s going to be a stroll along the Calder, though, lads,” Will cautioned. “We have no idea where the guards might be stationed when we get into the place, and an old soldier can be as dangerous as a young one if he knows how to use his weapons. John de Bray’s been a soldier too, so he can handle himself. Remember too, we’re not going to be fighting in the open: we’ll be inside. Be ready to use your daggers if there’s no room to swing a sword.”

  “There are also more people in this place than just the guards,” Robin continued. “The cook, the grooms, the servants in general might not take kindly to a bunch of dirty outlaws running riot in their lord’s home. We need to incapacitate everyone, women and children included.”

  “That don’t mean killing them!” Little John growled. “We take out the armed men first, but anyone that doesn’t fight back we lock in one of the storerooms. If you look at the map, you can see where they are.”

  “The servants aren’t likely to feel any great love for Lord de Bray,” Robin said. “Some of them might even want to join with us to ransack the house. Don’t let them. We can’t have an unknown factor like that roaming around the place until we’re finished. Like John says, lock them all away. They can get out afterwards.”

  “What if they fight back?” Groves wondered.

  “Do what you have to do, Matt,”
Robin said. “Just remember these people aren’t our enemies. If they fight back it’s probably because they think you’re there to slit their throats or rape them.”

  Robin knew the men he had picked would not slaughter the servants purely because of blood-lust. That was one of the reasons he had chosen these particular men. It was one less thing to have to worry about – if they went around killing their own people, the villagers around Yorkshire would soon turn against them.

  “Right,” the young leader grunted. “Everyone take a good long look at this map. Learn it as best you can. Any questions about it, ask before we go in. Then, if you need it, grab some sleep.

  “Sir Richard will, all being well, take out the guard at the gatehouse sometime after midnight, and open the doors for us.”

  Will smiled wickedly. “Then all we have to do is take the place. And that bastard de Bray is mine.”

  * * *

  “Get much sleep?”

  The stocky red-haired guard, Gilbert, shook his head. “No, it’s too bloody cold to sleep, even during the day, since his bloody lordship won’t keep the fire banked. Miserable fucker.”

  Thomas grunted agreement and clapped his relief on the back sympathetically.

  “All quiet out here?” asked the red-haired guardsman.

  Thomas nodded. “Aye, fine. That Hospitaller, Sir Richard-at-Lee, turned up again, with his torn-faced sergeant. He must be fucking desperate to come here again looking for help from de Bray. The noble lord will laugh him out the door after watching him squirm a bit. I feel sorry for him – he seems a decent sort and his son was murdered not long ago.”

  Gilbert stamped his feet and blew on his hands with a bored expression. “All quiet in there too; everyone seems to be in their beds.”

  Thomas grunted. “Aye, I think I’ll head to bed as well, after I grab some bread and cheese. I’m starving.”

  With that he wandered off indoors to seek warmth and his supper, as Gilbert yawned and rubbed his hands over the small brazier in the gatehouse.