There were three archers left, including Red Gill, in the service of the Sheriff.
“The crowd is not cheering your bowman, De Lacy,” said Prince John, giving him an awkward glance.
“My men have been gathering some small part of the new taxes, my lord,” he answered, “Red Gill will win for us.”
Red Gill stood by his marker peg and took aim, then sent an arrow that whizzed through the air and pierced the outer edge of the inner circle. There was a generous amount of applause for the Sheriff’s bully and he stood back and confidently said to Robin, “can your tuppenny bow do better than that my beardless whelp.”
Robin ignored him and quickly sent an arrow into the dead centre of the inner circle, sending a deafening din from the crowd.
“Forgive me sir,” said Robin to his father, “if beating this man, I have robbed you of your chance to win!”
“Lad, no man is beat till he admits it,” said Robin’s father.
Calmly Hugh Fitzooth put his toe to the marking peg and took aim, then let fly. TWANG! Hugh’s arrow had split Robin’s arrow down the middle. As the crowd roared, Red Gill slunk away.
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