Excerpts from The Wolfshead:Outlaw (A story of Robin Hood)

Excerpts #3

©Copyright David Cook 2014

A Deadly Errand

I arrived at Lincoln in the early days of spring when the roads and tracks still had the vestiges of ice and the rivers and streams were swollen with melt-water. The ground was iron-hard and the sunlight was frail. My horse’s hooves clattered noisily on the bleak road. I had named my new mount Greyleg, because his coat was a dirty white but his long muscular legs were dappled grey. He was not as placid as Alfred, but he was resilient and obedient, and that is what man needs in a beast.

The sky was pale and edged with a bright orange band that rose above the horizon as I entered the town’s gates along with other visitors. I paid a penny to enter, claiming I had an urgent message for the man I had come to see. I was let through after one of the guards wrapped against the cold with a large brown cloak of homespun had rummaged through my equipment. He demanded to see the letter which I grandly brought from inside my coat which convinced them. The letter was in fact one from Sir Geoffrey to Philip Marc, taken from our plundering of the lord’s baggage. The man could not read, but nevertheless sniffed imperiously at the traces of ink as though he could, and allowed me passage.  I entered the town underneath a stone archway dripping with water and mottled with moss and dirt.

I passed through the throng of the folk going about their business. The noise of a working, living, breathing town startled Greyleg, but I was in awe of it. I liked to hear the sounds of folk busy at work. I threaded down the cobbled thoroughfare, staring in wonderment at the houses. Lincoln, so I remember Michael Appleby telling me, was a wealthy town due to its trade in wool and cloth, which was transported down the River Witham then exported abroad to places such as Antwerp and Genoa. The city-folk dressed well and had prospered. Lincoln was very different to York and Nottingham. The cathedral, like York’s, dominated the skyline and the castle loomed above rooftops, like an angry stone-built guard dog. A man with a pinched face tried to sell me a thrush that he averred laid eggs of certain properties, but I ignored him. I made sure he watched me threw a handful of coins towards a ragged group of beggars who were displaying themselves in the hope of charity. One with running sores and scabs in his beard blessed me with tears in his sunken eyes.

But I was not here to play the kind and benevolent soul. I had a mission to accomplish and so I kicked Greyleg into a faster walk so that I could locate him and be gone from here. Then, by spending nearly three shillings in the Three Goats tavern, I learned of his abode.

So why had I come to Lincoln?

I had two of Robin’s clues. Firstly; he said look to the east and Lincoln is the greatest eastern city. The second hint was connected to the feast day of a saint. Father Umfrey of St Michael’s church, Hathersage, had provided the traitor’s name.

‘The feast day in June?’ he had said to me after I explained my reasons for knowing. ‘There are too many to name now.’

I gave him a shilling and the old man talked enthusiastically. He talked until I heard the name and I stopped him, a chill stilling my heart. I said the name out loud, and my mind raced. Was he the traitor? At first I tried to reason with that accusation. I even defended him and prayed Robin was wrong. My God how I prayed.

This hasn't scratched the surface of Ben's life with Robin Hood. I hope you liked this, please do leave a vote. Thank you.