Blood of the Wolf (The Forest Lord Book 4) by Steven A. McKay

Author:Steven A. McKay [McKay, Steven A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Broadsword Publishing
Published: 2016-10-13T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Calm down, lad, for fuck sake, it can't have been that bad.”

Will Scarlet glared at the sobbing Blase as the young man tried, haltingly, to relate his tale and provide Robin's men with the information they needed to find Groves's gang.

“Easy, Will,” Little John growled. “He's not much more than a boy and this is the second atrocity he's seen in a short space of time. Let him gather himself.”

Robin nodded agreement and Scarlet raised his hands, in apology or exasperation the lawman couldn't tell.

“Here,” he said, handing Blase a mug of strong ale. “Get this down you, it'll help with the shock.”

The Brighouse man took the drink from Robin with shaking hands, spilling much of it over the sides and into the rushes on the alehouse floor, but he managed to upend it and drained the contents almost in one go. He spluttered and coughed, head down but raised his arm aloft, gesturing the mug for a refill and Robin called on the landlord to bring more ale.

Robin’s party had been camping not far outside Mirfield for the past two days, and they’d made the headman, Jacques, well aware of their presence. When Blase ran into town he’d been spotted straight away and Jacques himself had run to the bailiff’s camp-site to apprise him of the situation and lead the men back to the hysterical forester.

Eventually, the drink took effect and the young man's shaking subsided although he still looked like someone had walked across his grave. He finished describing what he'd seen happen to the clergymen's party, confirming that it was, certainly, Prior John de Monte Martini who'd been in the wagon. Robin knew it wasn't Christian, but he felt a secret glee at the idea of that bastard finally meeting his end. The old man had caused him so much trouble, it was only natural to feel some satisfaction at his demise. Still, he mused, it wasn't the rest of the prior's party's fault – Groves and his men had to be stopped and the defiled novices avenged, it was as simple as that.

“All right, first of all: are you able to take us to the outlaws' camp?”

Blase looked terrified at the idea but he knew it would be impossible to direct the lawmen there just by describing the way. He nodded, taking another pull from his mug, which Robin pushed away, not wanting the lad to be too inebriated to help them.

“Let's go then. If Groves noted your absence he might guess where you've gone and move their camp.”

The bailiff patted his sword hilt unconsciously and nodded towards the doorway which Will and John moved through and began issuing orders to Arthur, James, Peter, Piers and the rest of the men.

Robin had sent a messenger from Brighouse to Nottingham days ago, when Blase and Antony first headed off to try and join the outlaws. Sir Henry de Faucumberg hadn’t left Nottingham to take up residence in Pontefract yet, thankfully, so, when he received the message

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