"Time to go again," he told them. "Scarlet, Little John, David, Stutly, Scathelock, Wat, Midge, you tidy up and get going. Bring bows, knives, and quivers. Nothing else. Move as fast as possible. Stutly, I leave you in charge until we meet you. I'll be going with Much and Arthur with the supplies. Go east until noon, then south for an hour or two. We'll probably see you before dusk. If we haven't met you by midnight, look around, but don't stray too far from camp," Robin ordered. At their confused looks, he continued. "While you were eating that—delightful breakfast, I was checking up on our stalkers. Somehow they've gotten within two miles of us again. I don't fancy a run-in with ten armed men on horseback. Yes, I know we have ten too, sure we could beat them, but there's no point in risking it. So, go fast. Now!" Everyone immediately obeyed. Seven green figures disappeared to the east, making much less noise than earlier that morning. Much was fidgeting with excitement, even holding the heavy cauldron.
"An adventure! And I get to come! With R—" Robin Hood cut him off.
"Quiet for a second. Do you hear anything?" Much raised his eyebrows and looked around. "Close your eyes. Separate the sounds, then dismiss the ones you don't need, like birdsongs. Anything out of the ordinary?" Much bit his lip and scrunched up his face.
"Yes," he replied. "Jingling." Robin watched Much. Arthur patiently held the weapons. He blew his straight, straw-colored hair out of his eyes and calmly glanced to the east. He couldn't see the other members of the band, who had left a few minutes before. The three of them probably ought to leave, too. Trying to remind them to depart, he grunted and shifted. Much startledly turned his head, eyes opening, but Robin ignored Arthur and went on teaching the boy.
"Yes, there is a jingling. Well done. Where's it coming from?" Robin knew from experience and Much's expression that the young outlaw had no clue. "Close your eyes. Find the jingling again, and turn your head until you hear it best. Good. Where's it coming from?" Much pointed.
"Correct. That way is called south. I'm sure it's a lot easier to tell when you're not in a forest and can see the sun properly. That's not the only way to tell, though. Well! Jingling from the south, good job. That happens to be the Sheriff's men on horseback, a mile away."
"How did you know all that stuff? Like which way was south?" Much asked, getting his voice back.
"Experience. I've been wandering these woods all my life, and for six months as an outlaw. You, fifteen years old and two weeks an outlaw, will learn these things soon enough. Come on, now, Arthur's right—we need to get going. No more talking."
Robin, who knew Sherwood best, jogged silently in the lead with the massive bag of blankets. The biggest of the three, Arthur trotted along behind carrying the weapons. Much, too little to keep the staffs from dragging and not skilled enough to keep the bag from getting too ripped and scratched, scampered in between Robin Hood and Arthur-a-Bland. He did stay fairly quiet for a few minutes, but couldn't stand it for long.
"I've been in this forest before. Whenever my dad Midge wouldn't need me to help at the mill I snuck out and explored Sherwood. Usually I went alone, but a few times I brought friends who lived in town. I lived in between the forest and Nottingham, on a river for the mill. Where do you come from, Arthur-a-Bland?"
"Bland. That's why they call me 'a-Bland.' 'Of-Bland.'"
"Oh. Where are you from, Robin? Are you from the hood?"
"Sh," Robin told him. "Can you tell where the Sheriff's men are now, as you run?"
"That's tough," Arthur commented. "I don't think he'll be able to. He's only twelve." Much said nothing, just got a better grip on the pot and kept running.
"He's fifteen. At that age, I was very similar to Much." The somewhat small boy looked down ruefully. "But I did more than one might expect. Besides, Much is smart," Robin said with a smile. Arthur shrugged while Much tried to figure out the appropriate response. All three kept hurrying along.
"All right, Much. Try again. Where are the Sheriff's men?"
The pace slowed for a few minutes so Much could listen better and not crash into trees. Uncertainly, he reopened his eyes in time to spot Robin stopping. Much had no idea if there still was the jingling, let alone which direction it came from. He said so.
"Good of you to tell the truth," Robin replied. "If you have good enough ears and know how, you can hear them still a mile behind us, and still south of us, heading north. They're following the main road, which leads through the middle of the forest. I don't want them to catch sight of either us or the rest, so you two hide here while I go back to see what everyone's up to." Before he could leave, though, Much broke in.
"Wait. What direction are we headed in, then?"
"North."
"Isn't the rest of the band going east then south?"
"Yes."
"Why aren't we?"
"We are going to drop things, make noise, rip off pieces of cloth from this bag or our clothes. All accidentally, but being the supply carriers, it's bound to happen. So if we want to keep the bad guys off the men's trail, we have to go a long, meandering, round-about way. Any other burning questions? No? Well then, I'm off." And with a bright smile, he was gone.
Arthur silently covered the pot, weapons, and bag of blankets with ivy and moist soil to hide them, just in case. With just as little noise, he sat against a tree and folded his arms. He looked very camouflaged. Much observed his actions wide-eyed. He knew nothing about life in the forest as one outside the law. True, he'd been around two weeks, after Robin had seen him shoot a deer. The Sheriff's men had almost killed him then and there, but Robin and a few of his men had done an amazing little skirmish and taken in Much's father and him. He was younger than any of the other men, though. He knew he talked too much. Much didn't exactly know why he acted and talked like he did. He'd never used to seek attention before. Of course, he'd had friends, which he really didn't now. He supposed it was because he was only fifteen, which they never let him forget. How old were the others? Arthur looked middle-aged. So did Little John, Much's own father Midge, and Will Scathelock. Will Stutly and Wat the Tinker looked a little older, but had no gray in their hair. Will Scarlet and David of Doncaster looked young, though obviously not as young as himself. Much couldn't even remotely guess at Robin's age. From what he had eavesdropped from the outlaws' conversations with eachother, no one knew much about their cheerful commander. It was rumored he was a noble, but then how did he become so involved in the Saxon cause? How did he become a wolf's head? Some said Scarlet was his nephew, but he knew as little about Robin Hood as any. Much decided to ask Robin himself.
Suddenly Much noticed Robin standing beside him, just staring and grinning.
"Ready? Let's go," he said, flinging the bag of deerskins onto his back. Arthur fumbled to gather all the weapons, and Much was about to heft the enormous pot, but Robin lifted it first.
"You need your hands free. We're going to go through some interesting things. Have your dagger ready." Arthur raised an eyebrow, but unquestioningly followed Robin Hood. Much once again took his place between them, worrying. Their leader was still heading north, but at a much quicker pace.
"In case you're wondering," Robin said. "We are being followed, and the Sheriff's men will catch up to us soon. The rest of our men are a good distance away and no longer in any danger. Now the goal is to find a bunch of obstacles and go through them, forcing them to either abandon their horses or turn back. Once we've gotten them off their horses, we'll lead them to the same bridge I met Little John on. Unless we can outdistance them and hide our tracks, which is not probable. We'll cross the bridge quickly. It's not too deep, so if you don't mind, I'd like to have you, Arthur, underneath the bridge sweeping the feet out from anyone who gets almost all the way across. Then knock them out. Much, you will be in hiding on the other side with our stuff and my horn. I'll be on the same side, shooting everyone who gets close enough. The bridge is only wide enough for one man, so I'll only need to shoot one at a time. We should stay alive, they should at least be paused, and the others should be safe. If you two would like, you can throw rocks or whatever, just don't let them know where you are. I don't know what we'll do afterwards. Just play along. I know it seems like less adventure than would be exciting." Much agreed with this last statement. "But it will be. Much, if anything happens to both of us, find the rest of the band. Explain everything. I doubt too much could happen on just a little outnumbered battle on the bridge," Robin said with a crooked smile.
He'd kept running as he was telling them his makeshift plan. All three of them were breathing rather heavily. Much was not too happy with the plan, but he hadn't the breath to say so. He became even less pleased when Robin started dashing straight through a thicket of thorns. Sharp, pointy things tore at everything, and Much couldn't go back, with Arthur in the way, and whatever honor he might have to uphold. So he kept on plunging through, wondering when the thorns would finally stop. Eventually they did, and he was enormously delighted to see Robin halt. Much sat heavily, glad for the rest. He didn't know how Arthur and Robin managed, with bulky, heavy supplies to tote along. Tumbling out of the brambles a few seconds behind Much, Arthur, too, fell to the ground. Robin set down his burdens and looked back the way they had come.
"They left their horses," he muttered. "Rats. Come on, we have to keep moving. I'm sure you're delighted," Robin said with a suppressed smile. "Still, they're catching up even quicker than I suspected. We have to keep going. Next fun part is a stream." Much pulled himself up with a nearby tree. Arthur and Robin collected the supplies. Yet again, they were off, no longer worrying about concealment and silence. Much glanced behind once, after seeing Robin do the same and run even faster. Much saw nothing, though even unknowledgeable as he was, he could hear the shouts of their pursuers, still a fair distance behind them.