“Hear me, good yeoman!” called De Lacy, the new Sheriff of Nottingham, as the archers began to leave the fair. “Would you eat and drink of the best? Then hear ye! Every man who hit the white at four score yards is free to take service with me.”
A few independent archers stopped in their tracks, undecided and turned towards Hugh Fitzooth.
“I’ll have high bows only,” the Sheriff went on, “twenty marks a man shall be your wage at Christmastide. What say you, good Fitzooth? Will you and your son change your coats?”
Robin’s father drew himself up and turned slowly to face the sheriff.
“In the old days I’d ha’ been proud to wear the king’s livery. But a forester in Sherwood nowadays is no better than a tax gatherer and a sheriff’s bully."
“Silence!” hissed the furious sheriff.
“Nay! I will not keep silent. It is time an honest man spoke out. Come lad!”
Hugh Fitzooth glared defiantly and strode away, followed by most of the independent archers.
Red Gill watched them go and turned to his master.
“What do you do, when the cock crows too loudly?” Said the sheriff nodding towards Hugh Fitzooth.
“Trim his comb,” replied Red Gill grinning unpleasantly.
Soon Robin and his father had left the town of Nottingham behind them and reached the outskirts of Sherwood Forest.
As they trudged on, they met the knights and mounted archers of the Royal cavalcade on its way to London. Hugh and Robin Fitzooth dropped gracefully to their knees as the Queen’s litter passed by.
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