"Ready, gentlemen?" Robin whispered. Around him, a variety of white smiles and notched arrows were his only response.
"Shall we, then?"
First, the archers lining the trees by the sides of the roads let loose- sharp shooting, picking off hats and purses and glancing their arrows off of shining silver mail. Nothing lethal. Robin's orders . Horses reared, throwing their riders to the ground and dancing gracefully under heavy tack and bit. One, a leggy chestnut creature with light feathering, flipped over in an attempt to alleviate the pressure his rider put on his mouth. The crunch of bones echoed along the road as the man was crushed beneath hundreds of pounds of horse.
The driver of the carriage managed to get his massive coal-black beasts under control, although they flattened their almond ears against their heads and watched the trees with white-rimmed eyes.
A hooded young man dropped from a branch in the coach's way, landing with his feet under him. He straightened into a bow.
"Noblemen and guards," he punctuated each word clearly, "This is a robbery."
"Stay to your posts!" the front most guard roared, wheeling his bay to face the boy in the way.
"Robin of the Hood, I presume?" he clipped.
The boy grinned wolfishly and didn't respond. He knew he took a chance by making himself a target; the recklessness of youth had made him volunteer. In the trees to his left, Robin smiled.
"If I may offer you instruction, my Lord. Double up on your horses, for we'll take half of them. You may keep your coach and driver, but any and all valuables you possess will be deposited on exactly that spot in the road-" he pointed, "And we shall conduct a thorough search of your personages after you are done. Drop your weapons," he added to a man in the front who had been squeezing his sword hilt.
"And if we refuse?" the leader asked.
Robin's men stretched their bowstrings to their fullest extent. They didn't notch arrows; simply the sound of dozens of bowstrings being drawn would be enough.
And it was.
The guards looked to the man in the front for direction, for orders. The man studied the ground as he thought, dark eyes furious and sturdy face tight. "We have little enough money- we are in our Lord's employ and he has warned us about carrying valuables into the woods. If you are devious enough to accost the women, only God can stop you."
"Women?"
'Women?' one of Robin's accomplices mouthed to him. Robin shrugged. Apparently he'd been misinformed. Well, it was of little matter mow- it would be tremendously bad form to allow them on their way after this. They would simply do what they had to do.
He gave the signal and half his men dropped onto the road at the guards' sides, himself included. They held out bags, hats, pockets- anything that could be filled with coinage or jewels. Sullen clinks sounded as the bandits moved throughout the company and collected all they had to offer. Robin himself knelt by the fallen horse, deftly unbuckling the bit from the bridle and using his sleeve to wipe the bloody foam from its mouth. He pressed the sensitive pads of his fingers against the gap between the horse's teeth and it opened its mouth reflexively, as he knew it would. A few cuts on the tongue, some sliced gums. One loose tooth- but that would heal, with proper care.
As the men began selecting which horses they would take and which to leave, Robin slit the girth holding the dead man's weight to the horse and backed away, allowing it to throw its weight up. It was a gelding, tall for a sport horse but too thin to be a draft. Robin sheathed his knife and offered a hand, which was examined warily by one long-lashed eye. "Alright, fellow," he murmured, retracting his hand. He'd need some time before he looked to man as anything but a threat, judging by those whip-scars on his flanks.
"Will, take this one!" he ordered, and a slender man with sharp eyes came to collect the fidgety chestnut. "You should take better care of your mounts, you know."
The soldiers grumbled and cast him venomous looks, but he ignored them. His next task was waiting.
He bounded up to the carriage and settled one foot on the step below the door. Directly in his sight, an old, crotchety woman sat glowering at him. He gave her a dazzling smile and extended his bag, letting his eyes linger on her array of rubies and gold rings. Fine lady, this was. "You, sir, are an abomination on us all. A plague upon the country. God will punish you for your sins- "
"Old woman," he cut her off. She could keep on in this strain for hours. He knew she could. "Your peasants starve in their homes. Your fields go untilled because YOU raise the price of grain. Your King is absent because YOUR KIND will not raise his ransom. I fail to see how I commit the crime here."
That shut her up. Well, if 'indignant spluttering' could constitute 'shut up'. And still, he had a feeling she was more upset about the old woman crack than all his founded accusations.
"Your turn, lady," he said, turning to her companion. He'd been watching her out of the corner of his eye, but she had muffled her face or something, and he hadn't gotten a look-
Ah. She'd lowered her head. A fall of tawny curls obscured her eyes but did nothing to hide her lissome figure or white throat. She had already removed what currency and jewelry she wore and now offered it to him tied in a lavender handkerchief.
Robin ignored it. He lowered his head as well, trying to see her eyes, her face. She caught his action and lowered hers further, and so did he- until she had her head almost in her lap and only his bright eyes could be seen over the rim of the carriage door.
Robin started laughing. He thought he caught a responding snort from the lady, but it might have been her scoffing companion.
"Won't you look upon me, sweet lady? Am I so offending to the eyes? Others have called me good to look at. May I not have your opinion?"
She shook her head in her lap and he almost laughed again.
He pulled the thick buckskin glove from his hand with his teeth and extended his fingers to her face.
"Don't you TOUCH her!" the hag gasped.
But he had his hand under her chin and her hare-soft curls brushed his wrist. He brought her face up.
All thoughts of laughter died in him. Pure blue eyes peeked up at him, lily-white skin and a rosebud mouth beneath them. She was beautiful. "What's your name?" he whispered.
She recoiled a bit, but not from him. From the blood on his sleeves; a small amount of which had been streaked into her hair. He quickly retracted his hand and fumbled for something clean upon himself to give her. "Your name, right now, or I'm taking you with the horses!" he amended when she said nothing.
Every article on his body was dirty with mud or horsehair.
"Marion, don't you tell him!" the cranky old lady snapped.
Marion touched her forehead at the woman with a look of incredulity. Desisting with his search, Robin could only spread his hands in apology. He took the violet handkerchief she still held out to him by grabbing her wrist and catching the bag when she dropped it.
He gave his loot to a man waiting on the ground. "Fall back." he ordered. The man nodded and went to tell the others.
Robin lowered his mouth to Marion's hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips. "You, I'll see again."
He released her hand and dropped from the carriage door.
"Compatriots, our work is done. Guards- on your way!"
He and the rest of his men scattered back into the safety of the trees, but he couldn't resist one last look into the carriage, at the beautiful Marion (whose maidservant was furiously scrubbing at her hands) peering out of the window.
He blew her a kiss and she smothered a smile.
Robin felt like singing.
"Shall we, then?"
First, the archers lining the trees by the sides of the roads let loose- sharp shooting, picking off hats and purses and glancing their arrows off of shining silver mail. Nothing lethal. Robin's orders . Horses reared, throwing their riders to the ground and dancing gracefully under heavy tack and bit. One, a leggy chestnut creature with light feathering, flipped over in an attempt to alleviate the pressure his rider put on his mouth. The crunch of bones echoed along the road as the man was crushed beneath hundreds of pounds of horse.
The driver of the carriage managed to get his massive coal-black beasts under control, although they flattened their almond ears against their heads and watched the trees with white-rimmed eyes.
A hooded young man dropped from a branch in the coach's way, landing with his feet under him. He straightened into a bow.
"Noblemen and guards," he punctuated each word clearly, "This is a robbery."
"Stay to your posts!" the front most guard roared, wheeling his bay to face the boy in the way.
"Robin of the Hood, I presume?" he clipped.
The boy grinned wolfishly and didn't respond. He knew he took a chance by making himself a target; the recklessness of youth had made him volunteer. In the trees to his left, Robin smiled.
"If I may offer you instruction, my Lord. Double up on your horses, for we'll take half of them. You may keep your coach and driver, but any and all valuables you possess will be deposited on exactly that spot in the road-" he pointed, "And we shall conduct a thorough search of your personages after you are done. Drop your weapons," he added to a man in the front who had been squeezing his sword hilt.
"And if we refuse?" the leader asked.
Robin's men stretched their bowstrings to their fullest extent. They didn't notch arrows; simply the sound of dozens of bowstrings being drawn would be enough.
And it was.
The guards looked to the man in the front for direction, for orders. The man studied the ground as he thought, dark eyes furious and sturdy face tight. "We have little enough money- we are in our Lord's employ and he has warned us about carrying valuables into the woods. If you are devious enough to accost the women, only God can stop you."
"Women?"
'Women?' one of Robin's accomplices mouthed to him. Robin shrugged. Apparently he'd been misinformed. Well, it was of little matter mow- it would be tremendously bad form to allow them on their way after this. They would simply do what they had to do.
He gave the signal and half his men dropped onto the road at the guards' sides, himself included. They held out bags, hats, pockets- anything that could be filled with coinage or jewels. Sullen clinks sounded as the bandits moved throughout the company and collected all they had to offer. Robin himself knelt by the fallen horse, deftly unbuckling the bit from the bridle and using his sleeve to wipe the bloody foam from its mouth. He pressed the sensitive pads of his fingers against the gap between the horse's teeth and it opened its mouth reflexively, as he knew it would. A few cuts on the tongue, some sliced gums. One loose tooth- but that would heal, with proper care.
As the men began selecting which horses they would take and which to leave, Robin slit the girth holding the dead man's weight to the horse and backed away, allowing it to throw its weight up. It was a gelding, tall for a sport horse but too thin to be a draft. Robin sheathed his knife and offered a hand, which was examined warily by one long-lashed eye. "Alright, fellow," he murmured, retracting his hand. He'd need some time before he looked to man as anything but a threat, judging by those whip-scars on his flanks.
"Will, take this one!" he ordered, and a slender man with sharp eyes came to collect the fidgety chestnut. "You should take better care of your mounts, you know."
The soldiers grumbled and cast him venomous looks, but he ignored them. His next task was waiting.
He bounded up to the carriage and settled one foot on the step below the door. Directly in his sight, an old, crotchety woman sat glowering at him. He gave her a dazzling smile and extended his bag, letting his eyes linger on her array of rubies and gold rings. Fine lady, this was. "You, sir, are an abomination on us all. A plague upon the country. God will punish you for your sins- "
"Old woman," he cut her off. She could keep on in this strain for hours. He knew she could. "Your peasants starve in their homes. Your fields go untilled because YOU raise the price of grain. Your King is absent because YOUR KIND will not raise his ransom. I fail to see how I commit the crime here."
That shut her up. Well, if 'indignant spluttering' could constitute 'shut up'. And still, he had a feeling she was more upset about the old woman crack than all his founded accusations.
"Your turn, lady," he said, turning to her companion. He'd been watching her out of the corner of his eye, but she had muffled her face or something, and he hadn't gotten a look-
Ah. She'd lowered her head. A fall of tawny curls obscured her eyes but did nothing to hide her lissome figure or white throat. She had already removed what currency and jewelry she wore and now offered it to him tied in a lavender handkerchief.
Robin ignored it. He lowered his head as well, trying to see her eyes, her face. She caught his action and lowered hers further, and so did he- until she had her head almost in her lap and only his bright eyes could be seen over the rim of the carriage door.
Robin started laughing. He thought he caught a responding snort from the lady, but it might have been her scoffing companion.
"Won't you look upon me, sweet lady? Am I so offending to the eyes? Others have called me good to look at. May I not have your opinion?"
She shook her head in her lap and he almost laughed again.
He pulled the thick buckskin glove from his hand with his teeth and extended his fingers to her face.
"Don't you TOUCH her!" the hag gasped.
But he had his hand under her chin and her hare-soft curls brushed his wrist. He brought her face up.
All thoughts of laughter died in him. Pure blue eyes peeked up at him, lily-white skin and a rosebud mouth beneath them. She was beautiful. "What's your name?" he whispered.
She recoiled a bit, but not from him. From the blood on his sleeves; a small amount of which had been streaked into her hair. He quickly retracted his hand and fumbled for something clean upon himself to give her. "Your name, right now, or I'm taking you with the horses!" he amended when she said nothing.
Every article on his body was dirty with mud or horsehair.
"Marion, don't you tell him!" the cranky old lady snapped.
Marion touched her forehead at the woman with a look of incredulity. Desisting with his search, Robin could only spread his hands in apology. He took the violet handkerchief she still held out to him by grabbing her wrist and catching the bag when she dropped it.
He gave his loot to a man waiting on the ground. "Fall back." he ordered. The man nodded and went to tell the others.
Robin lowered his mouth to Marion's hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips. "You, I'll see again."
He released her hand and dropped from the carriage door.
"Compatriots, our work is done. Guards- on your way!"
He and the rest of his men scattered back into the safety of the trees, but he couldn't resist one last look into the carriage, at the beautiful Marion (whose maidservant was furiously scrubbing at her hands) peering out of the window.
He blew her a kiss and she smothered a smile.
Robin felt like singing.