pull of the freshly brewed ale. “And I'm sure I've got a good chance.” He wiped froth from his upper lip absent-mindedly, engrossed in the surprisingly good rendition of “Man in the Moon” that the two locals were belting out.
It was a song that brought back fond memories for Allan, who had performed that very tune with Robin a couple of years ago when they'd passed themselves off as travelling minstrels to gain access to a rich nobleman's house. They'd impressed Lord John de Bray's guests that night, before rescuing Will Scarlet's daughter Beth from a life of slavery the next morning.
The minstrel lifted his mug to his lips and drained the lot in one go, the glow from the alcohol and the happy memories spreading throughout his body almost instantly and he grinned to the serving girl, waving his empty mug for a refill.
As the singers finished their song Allan turned and fixed Gareth with a stony glare. “I feel like having a few ales here tonight to celebrate getting into the tourney but I'm warning you – keep silent about who we are, where we came from and who we know. You understand?”
Gareth gave a sullen nod and fiddled with his mug like a naughty child.
“I mean it, lad,” Allan continued. “We can have a good time here this evening, but if you so much as mention Robin I'll fucking knock you out. Your tongue loosens when you've had a few drinks and it could get us all killed so...”
“Alright!” the younger outlaw shouted, slamming his mug onto the table angrily. “I'm not an idiot.” He met Allan's eyes but continued in a much quieter voice as people turned to see what the commotion was about. “I won't say a word about anything. Alright?”
The minstrel felt guilty for upsetting his companion. “Good lad,” he smiled, gripping Gareth's wrist. “Get yourself another cup of wine, then, and we'll order some food. Tonight we celebrate!”
* * *
Afternoon gave way to evening and The Ship began to fill up as Gareth and Allan enjoyed the drinks, the food and the banter. The minstrel watched his younger friend like a hawk in case Gareth mentioned Robin or the fact they were outlaws but the evening went smoothly and, as darkness drew in outside, the inn-keeper banked the fire in the old stone hearth and the low-ceilinged room was filled with light, laughter and music.
As they joined in with the rest of the inn's patrons on yet another sing-along Gareth shouted into his friend's ear.
“You brought your gittern, didn't you? Go and get it. We'll give this lot a tune to remember!”
Allan shook his head. “We can't draw attention to ourselves,” he shouted back, cupping his hands against Gareth's ear to be heard over the raucous singing.
The wine and ale flowed as time wore on and the two outlaws had the best time they'd had in months. Their bellies were full of the inn-keeper's tasty stew, they had plenty of alcohol to drink and the locals had welcomed them warmly into their company. There were even some good-looking older ladies throwing them suggestive glances.
They were having so much fun, and the drink was flowing freely. Too freely. As always, tongues were loosened...
“Aye, I'm Robin Hood's right-hand man. We're like brothers!”
The woman fluttered her eye-lashes and smiled at the story, not really taking it in. The singing was loud and the man beside her was too drunk to be believed, but he had a purse full of coin and she planned on making the most of it tonight.
“I'm telling you,” he went on, seeing the blank look on her face. “We've had lots of adventures. I'm only here in the city for this tournament. Keep it to yourself, but...” He leaned in close and tried to whisper in her ear, although in his inebriated state it came out as a bellow. “I'm an outlaw!”
Thankfully the music drowned out the confession. His companion heard him though.
“What are you doing? You'll get us both jailed!”
Allan shook his head with a snort. “Shut up, Gareth,” he
It was a song that brought back fond memories for Allan, who had performed that very tune with Robin a couple of years ago when they'd passed themselves off as travelling minstrels to gain access to a rich nobleman's house. They'd impressed Lord John de Bray's guests that night, before rescuing Will Scarlet's daughter Beth from a life of slavery the next morning.
The minstrel lifted his mug to his lips and drained the lot in one go, the glow from the alcohol and the happy memories spreading throughout his body almost instantly and he grinned to the serving girl, waving his empty mug for a refill.
As the singers finished their song Allan turned and fixed Gareth with a stony glare. “I feel like having a few ales here tonight to celebrate getting into the tourney but I'm warning you – keep silent about who we are, where we came from and who we know. You understand?”
Gareth gave a sullen nod and fiddled with his mug like a naughty child.
“I mean it, lad,” Allan continued. “We can have a good time here this evening, but if you so much as mention Robin I'll fucking knock you out. Your tongue loosens when you've had a few drinks and it could get us all killed so...”
“Alright!” the younger outlaw shouted, slamming his mug onto the table angrily. “I'm not an idiot.” He met Allan's eyes but continued in a much quieter voice as people turned to see what the commotion was about. “I won't say a word about anything. Alright?”
The minstrel felt guilty for upsetting his companion. “Good lad,” he smiled, gripping Gareth's wrist. “Get yourself another cup of wine, then, and we'll order some food. Tonight we celebrate!”
* * *
Afternoon gave way to evening and The Ship began to fill up as Gareth and Allan enjoyed the drinks, the food and the banter. The minstrel watched his younger friend like a hawk in case Gareth mentioned Robin or the fact they were outlaws but the evening went smoothly and, as darkness drew in outside, the inn-keeper banked the fire in the old stone hearth and the low-ceilinged room was filled with light, laughter and music.
As they joined in with the rest of the inn's patrons on yet another sing-along Gareth shouted into his friend's ear.
“You brought your gittern, didn't you? Go and get it. We'll give this lot a tune to remember!”
Allan shook his head. “We can't draw attention to ourselves,” he shouted back, cupping his hands against Gareth's ear to be heard over the raucous singing.
The wine and ale flowed as time wore on and the two outlaws had the best time they'd had in months. Their bellies were full of the inn-keeper's tasty stew, they had plenty of alcohol to drink and the locals had welcomed them warmly into their company. There were even some good-looking older ladies throwing them suggestive glances.
They were having so much fun, and the drink was flowing freely. Too freely. As always, tongues were loosened...
“Aye, I'm Robin Hood's right-hand man. We're like brothers!”
The woman fluttered her eye-lashes and smiled at the story, not really taking it in. The singing was loud and the man beside her was too drunk to be believed, but he had a purse full of coin and she planned on making the most of it tonight.
“I'm telling you,” he went on, seeing the blank look on her face. “We've had lots of adventures. I'm only here in the city for this tournament. Keep it to yourself, but...” He leaned in close and tried to whisper in her ear, although in his inebriated state it came out as a bellow. “I'm an outlaw!”
Thankfully the music drowned out the confession. His companion heard him though.
“What are you doing? You'll get us both jailed!”
Allan shook his head with a snort. “Shut up, Gareth,” he
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