doubt to intimidate me. He put a heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezed hard, his fingers digging into my flesh.
‘You will not fill your purse, hireling, by trying to mollycoddle this scum. Be on your way or we’ll teach you to keep your nose out of the affairs of gentlemen.’
I slumped under the weight of his hand, my arms by my side, as if in agreement. Then I dropped my knees an inch or two and smashed my right fist, with all my strength, into the fork between his legs. The blow lifted him, temporarily, off his feet, crushing his soft testicles against the bone of his pelvis like a hammer crunching walnuts on an anvil. He left out a swift whoosh of air, but no sound, and crumpled like a baby on the ground at my feet.
Hugo still had his sword between the bars of the cage. I stepped forward, trapped his right arm with my own, grabbed him by the scruff of his mail hauberk with my left and crushed his face against the poles of the cage, pulled him back, smashed him once more against them, then hurled him sprawling to the ground. My right boot crunched down on his right wrist, the hand still holding the sword. I heard a click of snapping bone. My left boot went to the top of his chest, half on the collar bones, half on his soft throat. If I moved it an inch I could crush his windpipe just with my body’s weight and so end his days.
I looked at the man pinned beneath my feet.
‘Listen to me very carefully,’ I said. ‘I will seek you out tomorrow at noon and, at that time, I will bring food and wine for the prisoner. If during the intervening hours, he has been hurt, even the merest scratch, even a splinter, even if his hair has been rumpled, I will kill you and your friend with a great deal of ease and – I may honestly tell you – pleasure. It’s important you understand this. Am I being clear?’
Hugo’s face was as florid as his hair but he gave a tiny nod of his chin against my boot.
‘All right then,’ I said. ‘I will see you at noon tomorrow.’
I did not see either Hugo or Humphrey at noon the next day. Instead, I was summoned to Robin’s tent after dusk by Sarlic.
‘The man wants to see you,’ said Marie-Anne’s bodyguard when he found me taking my ease with Kit and my own little contingent of the Wolves under a spreading oak. I was entertaining the men with one of the bawdier country songs that I had picked up on my travels, but I laid my vielle aside and followed him to the big black pavilion that housed my lord.
The tent was dark, lit only by a couple of tallow rush lamps on a folding table, and I could smell the meaty stench of the burning mutton fat that fuelled them. The rest of the space was bare except for a straw-filled pallet and a couple of stools. As ever, Robin travelled light, just his weapons and armour and a few spare clothes. The Earl of Locksley himself was sitting on a strongbox, sipping a goblet of hot, spiced wine.
‘What’s all this about you assaulting the King’s bachelors?’ he said without the slightest preamble.
‘They were mistreating a prisoner – Duke Arthur, to be precise – and they were rude to me when I gave the boy a drink of wine. I taught them a lesson.’
Robin sighed. ‘So it’s true, then. Well, one of your victims has a broken nose, a broken wrist and his neck injuries have rendered him incapable of speech; the other has balls the size of Spanish onions and cannot walk. King John is livid. He wants me to hang you forthwith.’
‘Truly?’ I said, my stomach turning cold. ‘He would hang a man over a disagreement between soldiers? I didn’t even touch my sword. And it’s not as if I killed either of them.’
‘They are his men, Alan. His favourites – they do all his dirtiest work for him and now they are both out of action.’
I put my hand on my hilt. I wasn’t going to allow myself to be hanged – by the King, by Robin, or anyone else for that matter. I saw that Sarlic had his hand on his hilt, too; he was watching me
‘You will not fill your purse, hireling, by trying to mollycoddle this scum. Be on your way or we’ll teach you to keep your nose out of the affairs of gentlemen.’
I slumped under the weight of his hand, my arms by my side, as if in agreement. Then I dropped my knees an inch or two and smashed my right fist, with all my strength, into the fork between his legs. The blow lifted him, temporarily, off his feet, crushing his soft testicles against the bone of his pelvis like a hammer crunching walnuts on an anvil. He left out a swift whoosh of air, but no sound, and crumpled like a baby on the ground at my feet.
Hugo still had his sword between the bars of the cage. I stepped forward, trapped his right arm with my own, grabbed him by the scruff of his mail hauberk with my left and crushed his face against the poles of the cage, pulled him back, smashed him once more against them, then hurled him sprawling to the ground. My right boot crunched down on his right wrist, the hand still holding the sword. I heard a click of snapping bone. My left boot went to the top of his chest, half on the collar bones, half on his soft throat. If I moved it an inch I could crush his windpipe just with my body’s weight and so end his days.
I looked at the man pinned beneath my feet.
‘Listen to me very carefully,’ I said. ‘I will seek you out tomorrow at noon and, at that time, I will bring food and wine for the prisoner. If during the intervening hours, he has been hurt, even the merest scratch, even a splinter, even if his hair has been rumpled, I will kill you and your friend with a great deal of ease and – I may honestly tell you – pleasure. It’s important you understand this. Am I being clear?’
Hugo’s face was as florid as his hair but he gave a tiny nod of his chin against my boot.
‘All right then,’ I said. ‘I will see you at noon tomorrow.’
I did not see either Hugo or Humphrey at noon the next day. Instead, I was summoned to Robin’s tent after dusk by Sarlic.
‘The man wants to see you,’ said Marie-Anne’s bodyguard when he found me taking my ease with Kit and my own little contingent of the Wolves under a spreading oak. I was entertaining the men with one of the bawdier country songs that I had picked up on my travels, but I laid my vielle aside and followed him to the big black pavilion that housed my lord.
The tent was dark, lit only by a couple of tallow rush lamps on a folding table, and I could smell the meaty stench of the burning mutton fat that fuelled them. The rest of the space was bare except for a straw-filled pallet and a couple of stools. As ever, Robin travelled light, just his weapons and armour and a few spare clothes. The Earl of Locksley himself was sitting on a strongbox, sipping a goblet of hot, spiced wine.
‘What’s all this about you assaulting the King’s bachelors?’ he said without the slightest preamble.
‘They were mistreating a prisoner – Duke Arthur, to be precise – and they were rude to me when I gave the boy a drink of wine. I taught them a lesson.’
Robin sighed. ‘So it’s true, then. Well, one of your victims has a broken nose, a broken wrist and his neck injuries have rendered him incapable of speech; the other has balls the size of Spanish onions and cannot walk. King John is livid. He wants me to hang you forthwith.’
‘Truly?’ I said, my stomach turning cold. ‘He would hang a man over a disagreement between soldiers? I didn’t even touch my sword. And it’s not as if I killed either of them.’
‘They are his men, Alan. His favourites – they do all his dirtiest work for him and now they are both out of action.’
I put my hand on my hilt. I wasn’t going to allow myself to be hanged – by the King, by Robin, or anyone else for that matter. I saw that Sarlic had his hand on his hilt, too; he was watching me
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