"Saint Peter, help us! Look at the little scholar!"

"Go away, Stute."

Robin spoke without lifting his face from his father's ledger books, refusing to look toward the open window, where Will Stutely, Master Bowman of Locksley, lounged outside, smiling lazily as he peeled an apple with his knife.

A few moments before, Will had stood protectively just outside the window, purposely overhearing Robin's interview with his father, and his heart bled for the boy. But his gruff exterior gave no clue of his real feelings.

"See what you've done now?" he scolded. "If you hadn't run off when you shoulda been home, you'd be done with numbers today, His Lordship would be pleased with you, and you and me could be outdoors, aimin' for my new targets."

The mention of new targets captured Robin's attention, drawing it away from his work.

"What new targets, Will?" he asked, with interest.

Will held up a small cloth purse, tied by a drawstring around its top. "Take a look at this, if you please," he said, proudly.

Robin jumped up from his father's chair and ran to the window. Will dangled the purse by a string, back and forth before Robin's fascinated gaze, smiling his nearly toothless grin.

Glamor clung to Will, in Robin's boyish mind. Not only was he the finest shot in the shire, he'd been a Crusader, a footsoldier and archer for King Henry in the Holy Land. Even his toothless gums spelled adventure to the noble boy, since Will had lost his teeth to the Saracens, who had extracted them one by one while holding him prisoner, marking the days of his captivity. Once all his teeth would be gone, the Saracens planned to slice off his head, and Will Stutely knew it, having seen it happen to several of his compatriots.

But Will refused to die without a fight. Robin loved to listen, spellbound, to Will's tale of how he'd escaped, tricking his captors by drawing lewd pictures with his finger in the sand, until one Saracen handed him a knife, to better sketch the images they loved to gape at. "Once I had that weapon, I didn't hesitate to use it! You gotta use your head, as well as your muscles, going against your enemy," Will frequently counselled the boy.

"What's inside it?" Robin asked eagerly now, staring at the small bag Will dangled temptingly before his eyes.

Will chuckled. "Flour's in this one. When you hit it, think of the explosion! But you can fill 'em with whatever you like."

"Feathers," Robin said dreamily, his eyes shining. "On a windy day, it'd be near impossible to hit a bag stuffed with feathers!"

"You like a challenge, do you?" Will asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You know I do, Will," Robin bragged.

Will cuffed him lightly on the side of his head. "Then get back to work! Them figures in them books are the only challenge you'll be facing, for a whole week, if my ears didn't deceive me!"

"Aw, Stute," Robin pleaded, appealingly, "come on! Tie that flour sack to a branch, and let me watch you hit it!"

"No, I won't. Not till you're done doin' what His Lordship told you to do, if even then! I might just wait a week before I have a go, just so we can make it a competition! And I like your idea about the feathers, too. First breezy day you get your bow back, it's a go! You and me, man to man, shootin' feather sacks offa tree limbs! You like that idea, lad?"

"On yard long strings, so they'll blow about more. You'd better start practicing now, Will, because I intend to beat you!"

"Ha! No, I won't do it. Wouldn't be a fair competition. Tell you what. I won't lay a hand on my bow, till you get yours back, alright?"

Robin put out his hand. Will grasped it in his own gnarled one, and shook. "There. That seals it, Cock Robin. You hungry?"

"Are you?"

"Not for food, but I could go for somethin' you know nothin' about."

"The Widow Tannerson again, Will? Why won't you marry her?"

"What do you know about that?"

"I've seen you leave her cottage, before the birds are up."

"And what're you doin' up so early?"

"Practicing," Robin grinned proudly back. "I want to be as good an archer as you someday!"

Will felt a flush of pride rush through him, and a warmth of affection for the boy. The lad didn't know he'd already surpassed his teacher's skill, and Will wanted to guard that knowledge carefully. And there was something else he realized he needed to guard as well.

He needed to be more careful in his comings and goings with the Widow. Lockley's son looked up to him, and he needed to set a fine example for the lad.

"If you're hungry, here," he said, tossing Robin his apple. "And before I go, I'll have a word with Mary in the kitchens. See if she can sneak you in a meat pie. You need nourishment, if you're gonna be shut up here all day cipherin'."

"Thank you. I'll get the figures done, Will. Like you said, I like a challenge."

"Yeah. Well, next time Master Fancy Pants Tutor comes huffin' and puffin' up on his horse, you make sure you're here to greet him."

"I'll try to remember."

"You'll do better than that. You'll be here, and what's more, you'll be respectful. No more tossin' acorns into his open, gapin' mouth, when he falls asleep, snorin'. You got it?"

"Got it. It was only that one time."

"Yeah, 'cause he woke up hollerin', threatenin' to dunk you in the pond!"

"He'd never do it. He'd have to catch me first."

Will chuckled. "Get back to work. I'll talk to Mary about the pie. The sooner you finish, the sooner you can play."

"Thank you again, Will," Robin said. "You're a true friend."

Will Stutely only growled, hiding the pleasure he felt from Robin's words. Like everyone else in Locksley, he loved the lad with his whole heart, and would do anything for him, even die, if the need arose.