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

Excerpts #5

© Copyright David Cook 2014

Memory

I sit back in my chair, rubbing the ache from sitting down for too long. The wood smoke drifts about the room eddying blue in the shadows as it searches for a way outside where the rain hammers down.

It is autumn and the rains have pounded the parched summer-roads to slippery quagmires, which hamper travel and cause melancholy.  Market day has witnessed many stalls bare, the merchants unable to come due to the long twisting hazardous highways. Boats have brought salmon, cod, herring, grain and wool, but the roads are quiet, empty like the city without its important trade.  

It is terrible weather, yet only yesterday the sky was full of golden clouds, billowing and folding above a land that is a smear of browns, greens, reds and yellows. The air was warm as mild summer days and carried the sweet smelt of pressed fruit, a smell I have always adored.

Today, it is sharp and chill. In the morning I trekked to the eastern hills, my destination; the village of Alresford, a place where tall alders grow in abundance. It is a small nondescript village, but there are tracks and dales and woods of oak that remind me of Sherwood and I come here as often as I can. It is so similar to my old home that it is uncanny. I feel as though I’m in my old haunt.  All I need is my bow and my friends.

I sat beside a great lichen-hung oak, much like Robin’s tree, the Grey Warden, caressing its trunk like a lover. A covering of old acorns, thick and crunchy lay within its giant roots. Pools of water trapped by the roots brought blackbirds and sparrows to drink the stagnant water. They didn’t seem to mind my presence. 

Sunlight speared a break in the clouds and I gazed up through the boughs, and for a moment in that green exquisite light that framed the twisted trunk, Robin was peering down at me. My heart quickened. I was instantly transported back to the days fighting injustice and running free in Sherwood. But alas the sun vanished behind ferocious black clouds and Robin was gone again.

I returned home, sad, alone and drenched to the bone.

Battle

The men-at-arms crossed the meadow, hurrying to reach the ground where it dipped and was protected with a wide grassy bank. The archers ran forward to support them. Robin took command, signalled by dropping an arm, and every archer loosed an arrow. I pulled back the cord, saw a man who was dressed in a half-mail and armed with a sword and a heavy spear. Forty arrows slashed into the enemy with deadly precision. I remember the noise; the whistling of the flights moments before the sound of cleavers hacking into flesh and bone. The man disappeared with my arrow clean in his breast. A few of the foot soldiers and archers had made it safely to the bank which protected them from the majority of our arrows, but our men in the trees had been waiting expectantly, and a handful of them were killed on the reverse slope.

I watched the second group of soldiers burst from the dead ground and some of our men switched aim to loose yet more arrows. However, it was a ploy to get us into the open. One of our men ran forward to hurl a spear down into the soldiers and another used his huge shoulders to throw down an axe.

Hidden bowmen wearing the badge of Sir Hugh and Sir Geoffrey were waiting in the opposite trees and in an instant I saw the movement that signalled the ruse.

‘Down!’ I shouted in warning. ‘Get down!’

I pulled Much down with me beside the tree as the sky rained death. Malevolent shafts smacked and thudded into tree trunks, slashed into branches and bracken. I was touched by luck, but a handful of our men mostly those in the open, were not, and died from the trick. Horrified, I saw Nick of Barnsley tumble from the oak, falling like a child’s doll, dead before he hit the ground. I closed my eyes for he was a friend, but the mourning would have to come later. I drew another arrow to the mark, searching for an opponent to kill in retaliation. My eyes tracked one wearing a leather coif who was staring up at the trees behind me. I raised my bow, hauled back the cord and loosed. The archer chose to pluck an arrow from his bag. Before he could draw it out my missile punched into his flank, spinning him in a whirl of blood.

‘Back!’ I heard Robin shout and he blew his hunting horn three times which told us to retreat. ‘Back!’

There were still enough armed men to climb the hill and defeat us, so it was sensible to fall back to cover. I heard another horn blast that pierced the air. I loosed another arrow before taking Much’s arm and sprinting as fast as I could. I felt an arrow pass my head, heard the beat of air in my ears like the kiss of death.

‘Jesu!’ Much kept saying over and over.

‘Back, you bastards!’ Will shouted at the men who were searching and pulling enemy arrows from the ground. The horn calls were blowing more strident. ‘Leave them for later! Get back!’

‘Come on, Much!’ I gripped his sleeve tight, but I feared being left behind to be spitted with  arrows or left to the mercy of the cold grey blades. We ran into the shadowed land where death waited for our enemies. An arrow struck a tree next to me, and shivered there.

The soldiers in full kit, and in full battle order, surged into the trees, free at last from the arrow storms. They thought we had retreated and they had won.

But they were deceived.

We had worked for three days to build and hide traps; snares prepared from bow cords to trip, small pits and foot falls hewn to break ankles, iron traps made to tear through flesh and splinter bones. We had concealed more bowmen in the trees and a handful of boys had slings.  The further Le Chacer’s men would give chase, the harder it would be for them to emerge alive.

Our men were fanning out to get to their places, carefully leaving the traps alone. We had constructed barricades of hide and timber which we retreated behind. I saw Robin give a message to one of the village boys who darted north as quickly as an adder’s strike. I unsheathed my sword and unstrapped my buckler from my belt and slipped the leather loop in my left hand. Much was beside me and his job was to cover me. I was glad he was there, for he was a fine bowman and he could also use his long knife with deadly efficiency in close quarters.

‘To your positions!’ Robin ordered the last knot of our men. He took an arrow from his belt to shoot dead an enemy who had already reached the tree line first. The rest of them would not be far behind.

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.