The Death of Robin Hood by Donald Angus

Author:Donald, Angus [Donald, Angus]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781405525909
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2016-08-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Knights did come to Cassingham that hot July afternoon. But they were not French. They were a quartet of Norman knights, some of the very few lords of the duchy who had remained in the service of King John after the fall of his continental possessions. Robin and Cass gave them wine in the hall, while I arranged for their horses to be cared for, then I joined them for the council of war.

Robin had not completely cut his ties with the King after the humiliating episode at Sandwich in May; he had, in fact, been sending John reports from time to time of his activities and his actions against the French. My lord was concerned lest the King should believe we had switched sides and rejoined the rebels; if the King thought us traitors, it could be lethal for Marie-Anne and Hugh at Kirkton – and for Robert.

As it happened, I knew one of the Norman knights who paid us a visit that afternoon: he was Hubert de Burgh, a proud hawk-like man who had been castellan of Falaise Castle before Normandy was lost. I had served under him there and while he could be rather stiff-necked and touchy about his honour, he was a good man at heart. He had remained unwaveringly loyal to King John – despite the reservations he must have had – through disaster, defeat and civil war. I could not but feel a grudging respect for his constancy.

De Burgh was now the constable of Dover Castle, which, with Windsor, was one of the last major fortresses holding out against the French in the south-east. It soon became clear he intended to hold it for the King to the last man. It was in this cause that he and his three knights had made the perilous journey to Cassingham through French-held territory to seek us out.

‘The King is pleased with you, Locksley,’ said de Burgh. ‘He likes what you have been doing in these parts. And you, too, Cassingham. He boasts that no man-at-arms of Prince Louis’s is safe anywhere on the roads of Kent.’

Cass was red-faced with pride, beaming at Hubert de Burgh as if he were a favourite uncle. ‘We do try to do our duty, sir,’ the squire mumbled.

‘Well, you are doing that and more, William,’ said de Burgh. ‘The King even has a nickname for you: he calls you Willikin of the Weald. He asks why there are not more like you fighting the good fight in the other counties.’

Robin gave a snort of derision. I could tell what he was thinking: we were only behaving here as we had for years in Nottinghamshire, Yorkshire and Derbyshire, only then we had been outside the law.

‘It is on the King’s instructions that I come to you today,’ de Burgh continued. ‘As I’m sure you know, Dover has been beset by Louis’s men these past few weeks. We have been attacked repeatedly and until now have been able to hold them off, even to inflict significant damage.

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