Robin o'Wood

Robin o'Wood =============

Part 2 ------

Fytte the First: Allan Forrest ------------------------------

A bleak December day in the year of Our Lord 1340, some thirteen days from Christmas. The oak trees had of course lost their leaves and their branches stood spare and stark against a background of grey clouds. Spots of chill rain were in a raw North wind. The North wind doth blow and we shall have snow, thought Allan Forrest, and what will poor Robin do then, poor thing? The old proverb ran through his mind. What indeed would Robin Hood do then? And the rest of us as well, he carried on the interior monologue and smiled to himself.

Winter in the greenwood! A merry time indeed! With mud up to the shins and rain, sleet and snow plummeting through the roofs of our dwellings. So cold the conditions that we must make use of each others' body heat at night to avoid being found frozen stiff in the morning. He smiled again but this time ruefully though whether it was at the inclement weather or having to sleep thus, it was difficult to say. His ash-blonde hair was darkened by the rain, a complexion that Milady at the Great House would have sold her soul to Beelzebub for, the gentlest of demeanours - but wanted for murder - the killing of a Sheriff's soldier who had raped his sister. And now an outlaw on whose head was a price, and whom anyone might legally slay on sight.

But he must hurry back for Robin had announced a meeting, one of those interminable discussions no doubt where all were supposed to have a say - Little John, the gentle giant, limping Edward Coin and Hugh Goodyear, scowling William a Trent, and the two youths, Much and Will Scarlock, late Brother Dominic, who had been the instrument of killing the Constable of Ferrybridge and now, like the rest of them were all, for one reason or another, wanted men. And after they had all said their piece then Robin would make his decision or announce his plan and all would acquiesce.

Allan made a gesture of protest with his right hand and the half dozen dead chickens he held tightly by their scaly legs discarded a few feathers. The farmer at Nottingley would miss them but blame one of the local foxes, and chicken would make a welcome change of diet from the constant venison. His thoughts went on ahead. And perhaps a goose for Christmas. He had seen a dozen fine ones locked up in the same farmer's outhouse. He could spare a couple of those surely - out of Christian charity at Christmastide for men who had lost all their rights and comforts. He trotted along the track with the quiet tread of a true woodsman.

The path - more of a deer track really - took a turn to the left, skirted a copse of elder, seemed to go through a dense bush of holly before it emerged into the glade where stood their huts, the fire which made existence possible and the rest of the band. The rain had stopped now though there was not even a glint of sunlight through the leaden sky.

It seemed that Robin had already started his discussion for the seven men were seated around the board where conferences were held, much food eaten and occasionally other games played. Much and Will, Allan noted, were fooling around on the log on which they were sitting, apparently trying to push each other off, then when one succeeded the other would throw himself on top and they would wrestle like the young animals they were.

John watched them with indulgent eyes while William a Trent scowled.

Allan joined the group. Hugh, the cook, greeted the sight of the three plump birds with an enthusiastic glance and Robin broke off what he was saying to smile a welcome.

"We almost started without you, Allan. But I see your expedition was not without success. Welcome back. We talk of the Abbot of Doncaster!"

Allan remembered the Abbot well, fat, cruel, lascivious and responsible for the near execution of the whole band of outlaws until Trent's rescue plan for them had succeeded. It was not a pleasant subject and at his name, Will, who, while he had been a novice monk in the Abbot, had received ill-treatment at his hands, stopped his playful games, looked serious and sat down. Much, also sobered, sat down beside him, putting his arm round his friend's shoulders as if to comfort him.

"I thought he was gone to York," said Allan.

"Indeed he was," said Robin, "but is returning and stays the night in Nottingley - or so our friendly informant in he Town says. Do you not think we should pay him a visit?"

Will looked worried and Much appeared to be trying to distract his attention. His hand anyway had left the shoulder and now seemed to be lying in his friend's thigh - or perhaps even higher.

"The last time, you met the Abbot," said Trent sourly, "As I remember you had the worst of it."

"And indeed for that we have a score to settle," said Robin.

"He will be well-guarded," said Hugh. "I do not object to your proposal, But we must think of the dangers."

"He will be well escorted on the journey through the forest," said Robin, "but who will suspect an attack while he stays at Nottingley?"

"Perhaps he who gave us away the last time," suggested Edward.

Indeed, thought Allan, it had appeared possible that they actually did have a traitor in their midst. For a while Much had suspected William a Trent though his subsequent actions which had resulted in their survival had seems to deny this . . . But if not Trent then who?

Allan looked around at his companions. Will, now apparently more at ease, and with a strange rather vacant expression on his face, had not yet joined the band then so it could not be he. Much, whose ragamuffin features and mischievous smile showed his transparent honesty - and also that he was enjoying that which he was doing to his friend - whatever that was, was obviously innocent.

Dark, brooding William a Trent, even now frowning at the proposal, or perhaps at life itself, had apparently proved his innocence. John, that caring tender man whose whose lust right-arm blow could stun an ox but whose touch was as gentle as a young girl if he was rescuing a butterfly from a spider's web, would have given his life for Robin.

Edward who limped from a badly healed broken leg gained whilst being chased by Sheriff's men. Could it be he? Or Hugh, who played the fiddle, sometimes as if Satan himself was inside him, at others like an angel?

And Robin himself, looking from one to another with that frank, open gaze, his mass of chestnut curls swinging free, his chin with its only just covering of soft beard. Well there was no need to consider him.

"Added to that," said Robin, as if he had not heard the last remark, "there is a fair at Nottingley. I propose that we visit the Fair, perhaps join in the Archery contest, pay our dues to the Abbot." He paused. "Allow him to pay his dues to us," he added.

"And what are we to do with him when we meet him?" asked Hugh.

"The Abbot has for too long dispensed and un-Christian lack of charity," said Robin. "It is time he was sent to make his excuses to his Maker."

Will gave a sharp half-cry. Robin turned to him.

"Never fear, Will. We will not let him get his hands on you."

But it perhaps was not that thought that had caused Will to cry out - and Much smiled to himself and wiped his hand.

Fytte the Second: Nottingley Fair ---------------------------------

The sun came out for the afternoon of the fair which was much appreciated for folk had come from miles around to join in the fun, the more business minded hoping perhaps to make a few pennies selling their produce, merchandise and shoddy gimcracks to gullible strangers. It was still cold but bright. The stalls were almost all set up and piemen, their trays loaded with succulent fare, were already on the look out for customers. There would be music and song from the minstrels and stories told for a penny - both humorous from the 'ribalds' and indecent from the 'lechers'. Bears would dance if prodded, jugglers throw things into the air, and acrobats show off their talents in their skin tight hose. Ordinary people could lose what little money they had on the fall of the dice or the fighting abilities of their cocks.

Gingerbread men would be eaten and sugared plums, and small children would be sick. Hopefully there would be a brawl before the fair closed. Some girls and even young men might lose their virginities.

Indeed, to sum up almost everyone would enjoy themselves excessively and wake up the following morning with a dreadful hangover or, if they were very unlucky, what would in the fullness of time turn out to be a child or a dose of the clap - or in some cases, both.

Allan Forrest heard the young men laughing and joking as they tied down the canvas awnings to the poles and hoisted the last of them into position. They were making crude jokes about the length of their own poles and how, before the end of the day, they planned to hoist them into various places.

Robin's men had come into town, suitably disguised - long cloaks and hoods would hide them from recognition and yet not be seen as unusual in the Winter weather - and they had now split up to search and enquire for any news of the Abbot. Allan, always on the look out for a handsome face, caught the eye of one of the young men - a tall, well built lad, of roughly his own age, with a shock of untidy, black hair and a cheerful, laughing expression. The eye was caught, contact made but then the youth dropped his gaze. Shy? Allan liked that - though not too shy! He pushed back his hood to reveal clearly his own face and blond hair.

Sure enough, the lad looked up again and Allan, who had not lowered his own stare, gave him a smile. Which was returned! Allan made a gesture with his head to follow and strode off through the fairground's crowds to where - between two stalls - there was an alleyway, and comparative quiet. A moment later the lad turned the corner at a run and slowed immediately when he saw Allan waiting, hesitated for a moment, then walked towards him.

Allan smiled again and drew close. He put his hand to the lad's fork and gently squeezed feeling an immediate response, a hardening of the softness. He rubbed it softly and the lad gasped.

"I'm Allan," said Allan, who had little time to waste on circumlocution.

"Piers," said the lad. A high-blown name for a working lad! Perhaps his mother had pretensions to improvement?

"Is there anywhere more private we can go? It seems something down here needs relieving!"

Piers nodded and led the way to the back of the stall and then across a small field to where a ramshackle hut provided some sort of privacy. Here they resumed their exploration of each other's bodies until arousal demanded something more.

The lad turned and pulled down the top of his hose, exposing a pair of rounded buttocks. It was obvious what he wanted and Allan was not averse to providing it. Gently he parted the buttocks, opened the entry, prepared it with his spit-moistened fingers.

But though aroused, he did not forget the object of his visit to the Fair.

"I'm looking for the Abbot of Doncaster," he said.

"You'll not find him in there," laughed the boy. "Though rumour has it that he'd not be averse to entering such a place."

"Such a warm and dark and moist place," said Allan appreciatively. "I think I have just the thing for it..."

"Aah," said Piers with some satisfaction as the 'thing' Allan had referred to slipped in and warm hands came round to grasp and stroke his own excitement. Conversation stopped for a while, though sounds did not . . . and movements grew faster and more forceful . . .

At last with passion spent, they adjusted their clothing and Allan kissed the lad's lips, rumpling his hair with a sign of affection.

"Do you not know where the Abbot could be found?" he asked.

"Am I not sufficient for you?" asked Piers.

"More than sufficient," said Allan, feeling that the drollery had gone on long enough. "But I need him for a business matter."

"At the Priory, you'll find him, probably in the Guest House. Do you need to leave so soon?" He sounded disappointed.

"With my business wih the Abbot over," promised Allan, "I'll return. Perhaps we'll have a re-match."

They re-crossed the field and split once they reached the fairground, losing each other almost immediately amongst the crowds that surrounded them.

Allan met up with the others at the Archery contest. A small group of young men faced some archery butts and were boasting of their prowess at the sport and firing off a few practice arrows. Robin, the glint of competition in his eyes, was summing up the opposition.

John, always on the lookout for signs of danger, into which his beloved master might fall, kept a wary watch on the crowd around. "Is it wise to show off your archery skills in such a public place?" Allan heard him whisper in Robin's ear.

Hugh and Edward were laughing and joking with some locals. The two boys, Much and Will were chewing with evident enjoyment some gingerbread they had purchased with John's gift of a farthing. It seemed that he, Allan, had been the only one 'on the job' in both literal and metaphorical fashion. He passed on his news as to the possible whereabouts of the Abbot.

A large man with a red-face and an air of self-importance, announced the start of the contest and the crowd quietened to watch appreciatively the first round. Robin, it appeared had already entered himself and there were but a dozen other contestants.

John, apparently having been unable to persuade Robin that his competing so openly might bring unwelcome attention, called the others to him and passed on Robin's orders. They were to go to the Priory and find out exactly where in that building the Abbot was staying and return by which time Robin would have won the archery trophy and they could carry out the remainder of the plan.

What plan, Allan wondered. All of a sudden the whole expedition seemed to be both unnecessary and dangerous. Hugh and Edward likewise looked unhappy. And where was Trent? But just as this thought entered Allan's head, Trent himself arrived, pushing his way angrily through the crowd, his normal frowning face darker than ever.

No, he had found out nothing about the Abbot. One rumour had it that he had already left for Doncaster, another that he had still to arrive from York. When Allan informed him of Robin's instructions, Trent's face seemed to clear a little.

"It will be something positive to do," he said, "even though probably of very little use."

A cheer from the crowd told them that someone had hit the bull's eye with an arrow. "Anyone take a wager that that is Robin's shot?" asked Edward - but there were no takers.

"We'll leave the boys here," suggested Allan. "They'll enjoy the Fair. But Trent objected.

"They should be with us," he said. "Obviously Robin will not be keeping an eye on them and John's Mother Hen function is solely directed at the Master. If we take them with us, we should at least then be able to keep an eye on them. And anyway it will be good experience for them."

In doing what, wondered Allan, but said nothing.

The group of six made slow progress through the fair, the crowd being dense and Much and Will, constantly being sidetracked by fripperies and geegaws on sale at the stalls, or other enticements like the group of acrobats forming an unstable pyramid, the juggler with his flaming torches, the piemen with their pastries and sweetmeats. By an oak tree, Allan noticed the figure of Piers standing on his own and smiled at him. Piers seemed about to come to greet him but then, seeing he was in company, stood his ground but watched as the group left the Fair in the direction of the Priory.

It was not far. In fact the high stone walls could easily be seen from the fairground.

The Priory was a great frowning monolith of a building looking more like a stockade than a religious establishment. It was built of Yorkshire stone, three storeys high with a thick boundary wall which would deter all but the most persistent of intruders. They could see the narrow windows of the upper storey but the only entrance seemed to be a pair of large thick wooden doors which were securely bolted closed.

There was a long bell pull but Allan felt that perhaps this direct approach was not the wisest and they went on, skirting the perimeter to see if there was any other means of access. At last they saw the trunk of a tree growing inside the grounds whose branches spread over the top and dangled enticingly just over their heads.

"That'll do, " said Hugh, hoisting Much onto his shoulders and the boy was able to grab hold of the branches and pull himself onto the top of the wall. He did the same with Will and the two boys succeeded in helping the remainder onto the top of the wall and then down on the inside.

They found themselves hidden more or less by some convenient undergrowth which grew at the base of the tree and formed a dense protection. from which they could peer out into the grounds of the Priory, a wide, grassy space in which various soberly robed religious-looking men walked slowly around. Their mouths moved as if in silent prayer as they read from missals held in their hands.

There were also some others in ordinary clothes, pilgrims perhaps, who were also walking around. Allan realised that dressed as they were in cloaks and hoods, he and the others would not stand out. As unobtrusively as possible they stepped out from the bushes and, receiving only cursory glances, joined the general gathering.

It seemed that the grey-habited brothers were under some vow of silence as they did not communicate with their fellows but such a vow obviously had not been imposed on the others as they were chatting quite freely.

Allan approached one of them. "Greetings, brother," he said. "Any news of the Abbot?"

The man looked at him enquiringly. "Do you mean the Prior?" he asked.

"No, No. The Abbot! The Abbot of Doncaster. I understood he was staying here."

The man looked at him curiously. "It is not meant to be generally known. But yes, the Abbot is in residence." He gesticulated toward the building. "You will find him in the guest's quarters on the ground floor."

There appeared to be nothing to stop them from approaching the building, entering and meeting up with their old enemy but John had told them to find out information and again Allan felt a spasm of annoyance that Robin had not been with them.

He turned to his informant.

"Does he return to Doncaster soon?" he asked.

"Tomorrow as I understand at first light," said the man and again gave him a curious look. He was perhaps wondering why, if Allan was so interested in the whereabouts of the Abbot he did not go straight across to his quarters and find him.

Allan returned to the others.

The man over there he said nodding in the direction - but the man had gone - tells me the Abbot is in the Guest Room and that he will return to Doncaster tomorrow. I don't know what Robin would have us do."

"Return to the fair," said Edward seemingly anxious to leave. He gave the dark-fronted facade of the Priory a worried look and as he did so from round the side appeared some running figures - soldiers - with drawn swords. They gave a shout when they say the outlaws and made straight for them

"Quickly," said Allan, "to the tree." The others did not need any further encouragement. They turned and ran.

Young Will, who was in the rear, turned back to see how near his pursuers were and did not notice the exposed twisted root stump that stuck out of the ground. He tripped, fell and sprawled full length on he ground, temporarily winding himself. In a moment the soldiers were upon him, grabbing hold.

Much turned and saw what was happening to his friend.

"Wait!" he shouted to the others who were already almost into the undergrowth. "They've got Will!"

Allan stopped, turned and saw what was happening. He grabbed Much's arm. "There's nothing we can do," he said. "Look we're vastly outnumbered."

"We can't leave him," said Much struggling to escape from Allan's grip.

"What can we do, boy?" his concern for the lad making him sound angry.

"Come!" he dragged Much to the base of the tree. The others were already up and over. Allan forced Much, climbing with him almost under his arm, the lad struggling and swearing.

"Give us a hand," shouted Allan, and Edward leaned over from the top of the wall, grabbed the nearest part which happened to be Much's hair and hauled him up.

Much yelled in pain but it was an effective if painful assistance. They dropped safely to the other side and, dragging Much who still wanted to stay and fight, raced towards the fairground.

The soldiers, some perhaps occupied by Will's struggling figure, did not chase them over the wall but went round by the gates and, for them at least, valuable minutes were lost as they struggled with the locks, having to send for someone with a key, eventually opened them and saw no one, when they emerged. But the Fair was the only place they could have gone so it was to the Fair that they marched.

The crowd around the archery field was even denser than it had been when Allan and the others had left and they were hushed with anticipation as the last two contestants remaining, Robin and a short, stocky lad whom the crowd knew as Hal and obviously supported shot at the final target, a slender wand of wood.

There was a cheer as Hal's arrow split the wand and the youth stood back proudly as if to say, There that's my best shot. Can you equal it?

Allan forced his way through the watching throng of onlookers not without some dirty looks and expressions of disapproval. He found John and told him what had happened at the Priory.

"Have they followed you here?" asked John.

"There's no sign of them," said Allan. "But the possibility cannot be discounted."

John went over to Robin who was preparing his arrow and whispered in his ear. Robin looked round but seeing nothing that he found alarming, was obviously continuing to prepare to shoot. The crowd fell silent. Robin raised his bow and sighted along the shaft.

Suddenly there was commotion.

There were screams and shouts from the back of the crowd. Gaps appeared and between them the soldiers came into sight using the flats of their swords to clear a path. Robin, startled, let off his arrow which shot into the air.

"That's them," shouted one of the soldiers and from behind them emerged the tall, red-cloaked figure of Sir Guy of Gisborne. "And that's Robin Hood," he ordered. "Get them!"

Instantly there was turmoil. The soldiers advanced on the outlaws. Some people in the crowd unwittingly got in the way. There was confusion, disorder, chaos, a hubbub of shrieks and cries as innocent bystanders got pushed, kicked, even wounded by the swords of the soldiers.

Allan and the rest drew their own swords though Much had no weapon and had to stand helplessly by.

Robin turned with his bow but in the melee of figures he could not find a clear enough target to shoot.

Hand to hand fighting, cursing, swearing, clubbing, plunging, stabbing, the clash of steel upon steel. The crowd drew back leaving a clear space but, as is the way with crowds, stayed to watch. The battle continued. Allan was faced by a short, thick-set man whose skill with the sword was obvious. Allan defended himself as well as he could but then he tripped over a fallen body, whether friend or enemy he did not know, The soldier raised his sword and prepared to plunge it into Allan's body. Allan, his sword lost in the fall, had nothing to defend himself with.

He closed his eyes and braced himself for the final impact. But what he felt was not the sharp stroke of a sword but the dull heavy thud of a body falling astride him. He opened his eyes and saw above the trunk of the soldier lying on top of him, the figure of Piers, a dagger in his hand, which had obviously been used.

The soldier gasped in agony and Allan, wriggled his way out from beneath him.

"I owe you my life," he said to Piers, "but you have forfeited your freedom."

As if in confirmation there was a shout from Sir Guy. "That's another of them. . . And the man with the girlish hair . . . And that boy . . ." pointing to where Much stood at the circumference of the melee.

But before any of his men could take Piers, or Much, Allan dragged them to where the others were joined in furious conflict, Allan shouting that this newcomer was a friend. The group managed to beat off the soldiers for the time being and Robin gave a shout ordering his men to get into the crowd now standing around and lose themselves, to meet up at the outskirts of the forest.

The crowd parted like a field of corn in a high wind. Severally the outlaws raced through and, perhaps because there were some members of the crowd who felt a sneaking sympathy with the person they now knew as Robin Hood, the gaps closed, delaying the soldiers pursuit.

Allan and Piers together were able to flee through the fair out to the open fields.

"Why did you do it?" Allan asked. "Stab the soldier?"

Piers looked embarrassed, afraid or perhaps too shy to express aloud the feelings which his earlier encounter with Allan had produced in him.

"You'll have to come back with us," said Allan. "If Sir Guy or his men recognise you after this, your life will be forfeit. Come with us into the greenwood."

"My family . . . " said Piers.

"You can say farewell to them, as all of us have done. We - I am your family now.

At the great oak which marked the entry of the Doncaster Road into Barnesdale Forest one by one, or two by two the outlaws arrived. Hugh and Edward together with, Allan was pleased to see, the boy, Much, Robin and John, later by himself, William a Trent.

Piers was introduced and some of the story of his meeting with Allan related. Robin greeted him warmly and they trudged through the winding deer tracks and badger runs to the camp.

Home this was indeed, a bear-pit of a place with mud underfoot and bare trees all around. The fire no more than a a smouldering place of damp black ashes. But again Hugh worked his magic and soon at least the fire was cheerful.

Much, though, was in a dreadful state. He sat on a log sobbing, his ragamuffin face, tear-stained and ugly with his grief. He refused food and was only partially appeased when Robin promised that on his oath they would rescue Will Scarlock from the clutches of the Abbot at the first opportunity.

Allan prepared a warm, restoring draft which contained a mild sedative and Much was persuaded to sip at it and became calmer. There were practical matters to attend to. Allan had shared a hut with Trent and now wished that Piers would join him. Much of course was now on his own but Robin's suggestion that William a Trent should temporarily at least move in with him, met with such looks of horror, indeed terror that Allan said that they would take him into their hut, and to this Much, who was too upset to understand the blossoming relationship between Allan and Piers, agreed.

As night fell, they retired to bed. Allan and Piers excited by their first real touch of naked skin to naked skin, hardness to hardness, held each other quietly so as not to disturb the boy but as their embraces grew more passionate they heard the sound of weeping.

"Do you mind if we take him into bed with us?" whispered Allan in Piers' ear and, understanding the boy's grief, Piers though disappointed, agreed.

"Come over here, Much," said Allan and a tear-stained figure crept disconsolately across and insinuated itself between the two naked figures where comforted, consoled, warmed and eventually soothed, Much was able to sleep. Allan and Piers held each other around the boy's body and promised themselves that they would be alone together soon.

Fytte the Third: Woodland Wiles -------------------------------

The morrow was a bitterly cold morning with hoar frost decorating the bare branches and holly leaves with a fine tracery of rime. Some mist floated waist high so that the men, when John roused them at first light, looked as if they were just upper torsos. A rose-red sky. Red sky in the morning, outlaws warning, thought Allan and then cursed himself silently for tempting providence. Much was up, dressed and pestering Robin as to when they would set out, where meet the Abbot on his way home. The stream was frozen and they had to crack the ice before they could get water.

Allan and Piers had a little time together which they clutched desperately and snatched passionate kisses, their erect swords jousting together, before John rooted them out of their warm love-nest and they dressed shivering.

Hot porridge with dried fruits in it warmed their insides. They must need jump around and slap their bodies to keep their outsides heated. It was not long before they noticed the absence of William a Trent. For a moment Allan feared that he might have frozen to death on his own in the hut but when they went to look they found he was not there - nor were his belongings.

There was much speculation as to where he might have gone but he was such a secretive character that any or none of their assumptions might have been correct. He had been stolen by animals or fairies in the night. He was, as Much had always suspected, a traitor and had gone off to warn the Abbot. He had got fed up with living in the forest and had gone North to find more comfortable lodgings away from the the authority of the Sheriff of Yorkshire.

It was a topic of conversation while they were breaking their fast but soon had to be forgotten in favour of plans for the attack on the Abbot and rescue of Will Scarlock. Even if Trent was a traitor and had gone to warn the Abbot, an attack would still have been expected so there was little Trent could tell which would aid the enemy. Perhaps the only thing would be to tell them how many outlaws there were but as Sir Guy at the trial and then at the fair had seen all of them, this information was hardly vital.

With as much animal hide clothing on as they could manage and mittens to keep their arrow fingers warm and supple, they set off. Much had his own job which would not need a weapon, only his ability as a whistler and his own strong legs.

Robin, or possibly John, had chosen a part of the forest which on the surface hardly seemed a suitable place for a surprise attack. It was a large open glade which in summer time was full of golden sunlight and butterflies. Today it just looked empty.

Out of sight in the bushes on the edge, Robin deployed his men, Hugh, Edward, John, Allan and Piers - a half a dozen against Sir Guy's soldiers, however many of them there would be. But the outlaws had their knowledge of the woodlands to help them. They settled down to wait, Allan and Piers becoming amorous behind an evergreen bush until John was forced to remind them of what they were supposed to be doing and, somewhat shame-facedly they paid attention to their surroundings.

Robin had no intention of being caught the same way as the previous time and, when they eventually heard the sound of horses' hooves and the lumbering groans of a large coach he was careful to withdraw his men into the safety of the forest, leaving only Allan and Much to carry out their part of the plan.

The coach hove into view. It was the same one that had made the journey in the opposite direction. It was preceded and followed by an armed guard. Twenty mounted soldiers, Robin counted, but he had expected as many.

As they entered the clearing, Allan and Much showed themselves at the other end and were immediately spotted.

Much put his fingers to his lips and whistled the liquid trilling call of the wood warbler. Sir Guy heard him and gestured to his men to catch them.

"The fair-haired one, and the boy," they heard Sir Guy shout. "There at the end of the clearing. Bring them here." The soldiers spurred their horses ahead until a fluting cry from inside the wagon, "Don't leave me unprotected," caused Sir Guy to retain three of the soldiers to safeguard the Abbot.

Sir Guy and the others rode after Allan and Much, now just disappearing into the bushes. But the undergrowth was too thick for the horses and soon the soldiers had to dismount, leaving their mounts in the care of one of the soldiers to take back to the wagon. And then there were sixteen.

Uncovered, Allan's hair was easy to spot as he dodged in and out of the trees and Much's whistled bird calls continually distracted the soldiers, drawing them deeper and deeper into the forest. Behind them, silently and secretly, the other outlaws followed, waiting their moment to pick off any soldier who might fall behind or lose his way.

The trees closed around them The soldiers unused to the ways of the forest were constantly being tempted by glimpses of Allan's flaxen hair or the calls of the wood warbler and even Nature herself seemed to be in league with Much for the real wood warblers were answering

Soldiers were bemused by the calls seemingly coming from all directions and some followed them one way and some in another all the time pursued relentlessly by the outlaws, their bows ready so that as the soldiers one by one became detached from the fellows arrows found their way unerringly into backs, hearts, throats. Most men fell soundlessly though a choking cry went unnoticed.

The troop was gradually whittled down, Fourteen. Twelve. One fell groaning until Robin cut his throat. Another hobbled where an arrow had been deflected by a tree branch and had struck him in the fleshy part of the calf. He was calling for aid until hands reached out from behind a seemingly innocent bush and throttled his cries.

Two soldiers wandered into the depths of the forest and treading unwarily on what seemed to be a sward of green moss were sucked screaming into a peat bog which for millions of years had been preparing itself for their coming. Eleven. Nine.

And at last Sir Guy, pursuing shadows and ghostly bird calls realised that he had been tricked. He called his men to him. Three he could see. But no others answered his call. He turned and knew that he was hopelessly lost. His remaining men seemed terrified. The outlaws were spirits, agents of the Devil, had supernatural powers, were impervious to steel. They were staying here no longer. They rushed off into a forest that swallowed them and left no trace.

Sir Guy was left alone and out of the trees stepped Robin

"So, Sir Guy of Gisborne," he said. "You have strayed into my territory. This is where my law operates. This is where I pass sentence on you."

Then - and now he seemed to be talking to the bushes behind Sir Guy - "John, remain with me. Allan, take the rest and see how My Lord the Abbot is faring."

The bushes gave an answering rustle and to trained woodsman's ears there would have been the slightest of sounds as men disappeared back towards the Doncaster road.

The wagon was rumbling its heavy way when Allan, Hugh, Edward and Much arrived. Three arrows speeding from the side of the road were enough to take care of the escort though the driver was spared.

The Abbot's scared face appeared from the canvas opening of the wagon and Allan's request to draw up was obeyed in spite of frantic shrieks from the Abbot to proceed, to drive on. Allan invited him to step down, his drawn bow making the request little more than a formality. Shaking with every ounce of his corpulent body the Abbot complied.

"Up, Much," said Allan, "and see what he has in the wagon."

Much leapt up and peered into the gloom. He could see the coffers but nothing else. And then in the corner a bundle of what looked like perhaps old rags, a discarded monk's habit. He went across and peered down. Will's eyes were closed, the skin of his face pale almost green in the murky light. For a moment Much's heart told him he was dead.

Then as he touched him there was a groan and a slight movement. Much knelt.

"Will! Will!" he said. "It's Much. Tell me are you badly hurt?"

Will's eyelids flickered open and looked. For a moment they seemed blank then full of horror, terrified. Finally when they were able to focus and recognise, a look of peace. His lips gave a twisted smile. He seemed to be trying to speak.

"Lie still," said Much. "I'll get help."

He went to the opening. "He's here," he told Allan, "but dreadfully hurt."

As he spoke the tall figure of John strode out from the trees. He had obviously heard Much's news, for he ran swiftly to the wagon, jumped up and went in to look.

He felt the boy's body and at his touch Will screamed.

"You're hurting him," shouted Much. "Don't hurt him!"

"I must find out what's wrong," said John.

Tenderly he opened the habit. Will's naked body was a mass of bruises and cuts at the sight of which John's normally kindly face assumed a vicious expression. There was blood at the fork of his legs.

Trying to be as gentle as possible he felt the boy's arms, legs, body. Will groaned at the touch.

John turned to Much. "I do not think there are bones broken but he has been sorely treated. We must take him back to the camp where I can tend to him properly." He was about to pick him up in his arms but Will said, "I want to take him. Let me carry him."

"You're not strong enough," said John. "You would hurt him more - but hold his hand as we go - for comfort."

Gently as a mother taking up her babe, he took Will into his arms and slowly and carefully climbed down from the wagon.

Robin was standing there and the Abbot quaking looked on.

"See what this man has done to the boy," said John and briefly he exposed the wounds to the outlaws. Then without another word John made his way towards the camp, Much by his side, holding a dangling hand.

Allan looked at Robin's face and saw scarcely controlled rage.

"Gentle Abbot," said Robin. "Was this Christian kindness?

The abbot blustered. "He had to be punished," he said. "The boy had committed a dreadful sin. He murdered the Constable."

"The boy was innocent. It is you who committed the sin." Robin drew his sword still blood-stained and with more charity than the Abbot had shown, plunged it into his heart. The Abbot died a quick death.

When they got back to the camp they found Much ministering to Will. He would do everything that John told. No one was to touch Will except himself. Warm water had been heated over the fire and with a soft cloth, Much was cleansing his friend's bloodied body.

"Woundwort leaves for the gashes," said John showing him, "and ointment made from self-heal for the bruises."

"What about here?" asked Much gesturing to the blood which still seeped from Will's anus.

"I cannot tell what harm there is inside the boy," said John. "I pray it is only the tear caused by roughness. Wash it tenderly and trust that it will heal by itself though a little of the ointment can do no harm. Spread it gently."

Allan put his head through the doorway a little later. He had with him a soft thick and expensive cloak. "Cover the boy with this," he said, "and keep both him and yourself warm."

He watched as Much carefully spread the cloak over Will and then with great gentleness climbed in to wrap his body around Will's. Will gave a sigh and Allan knew from the sound that he felt comforted.

The two boys lay there innocently and Allan withdrew.

Piers was waiting for him in his hut.

"At last, he said and kissed him full on the lips. "Come to bed."

"Wait a moment," said Allan and left to return a short time later with a baked clay bowl. Also a small pot.

"Some warm water," said Allan in return to Pier's enquiring look. "And some soap."

Again Piers raised his eyebrows. "An ointment made from soapwort. You wait until I use it on you. Take off your clothes."

"It smells pleasant," said Piers, sniffing the pot.

"It is scented with marjoram and rosemary," said Allan. "Robin uses it too."

"I thought he smelled nice," said Piers.

"You keep your hands off Robin," said Allan, "or John will slit your throat and afterwards I will do it too. Now stop talking and remove your clothes."

Piers had no hesitation in obeying and though he shivered at the cold, he shivered even more when Allan wiped his body with a cloth soaked in the warm water and then started rubbing in the 'soap'. It was slippery and when Allan reached his cock and even cleaned out his arse with his fingers coated with the stuff, Piers could scarcely contain himself.

"See," said Allan, "and as well as to clean, it can be used to make entry easier." He pushed his fingers in and out to demonstrate. Piers groaned.

Allan washed off the grime and soap. "But first I should like a taste." And he knelt before Piers and taking his erect cock in his hand, he first kissed it and then took it into his mouth. Piers made a startled noise - but one of pleasure.

"Does it not taste bad?" he asked.

"Not when it's been washed," said Allan, and returned to his task, stroking the ballsack with his hand and creeping under to touch his hole with a finger.

"Could I do it to you?" asked Piers.

"Willingly," said Allan. "But first you must wash me."

Then he showed Piers how, if they both lay on the bed together, head to tail, it was possible to take each other's cocks in their mouths.

Conversation became unnecessary for a time as the sucking and hand movements speeded up, the inserting and exploring continued.

"I think..." said Piers suddenly - but before he could say what he thought, it had happened... and moments later Allan came too.

"It has a savoury taste," said Piers, and then in a disappointed tone, "But we have not used the soap to enter."

"There will be plenty of time for that," said Allan. "Now come and kiss me."

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