Outlaw by Angus Donald Read Free Book Online Page A

I looked at the floor and fell silent. The silence lengthened and grew uncomfortable. I sniffed and rubbed my nose.
    ‘I am sorry to hear it,’ Robin said gruffly. ‘He was a fine man.’ There was another embarrassed pause. ‘Hanged on the sheriff’s orders, you say?’ I said nothing, fighting back tears. ‘And have you looked to avenge his death?’ he said, after several moments. I remained silent. He repeated his question: ‘Have you not sought vengeance?’ He sounded puzzled, irritated.
    ‘Robin . . .’ said Marie-Anne. ‘Can’t you see he’s upset . . .’
    ‘You know who ordered your father’s death, do you not? But you have done nothing against him?’ Robin’s voice now was cold. ‘Look at me, boy. Look at me.’ His voice was hard, compelling. I lifted my head. ‘A man does not snivel when a member of his family has been murdered.’ His cold silver eyes were blazing again, boring into mine. ‘A man does not cry like a babe, seeking pity from those around him for a wrong he has suffered. He takes his revenge. He makes the guilty men, the men who took that kinsman’s life, weep in pain; he makes their widows sob themselves to sleep at night. Else he is no man. You should have come to me. If you had come to me, we would have had the vengeance that his spirit cries out for.’
    ‘I will avenge him, sir,’ I interrupted hotly. ‘I need no man’s help in this. I swear it on the Holy Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ.’
    Robin snorted. ‘Jesus would have you turn the other cheek. The Christ would have you forgive him,’ he almost spat out the word ‘forgive’, then continued. ‘I have little time for such a womanish religion. But I believe you shall have your vengeance, if you truly seek it, and you shall have my help in this matter of honour whether you wish it or not. You are my sworn man now, loyal until death, remember? And so my enemies are yours, just as yours are mine.’
    ‘He’s just a boy,’ said Marie-Anne. ‘Too young for all your blood-thirsty talk. All these bold words of vengeance and calls for death.’
    ‘I need men-at-arms, not milksops,’ said Robin shortly, glancing at his lady. And I blushed with anger.
    ‘I am no milksop, sir,’ I said angrily. ‘And I will have the hides of those who killed my father. I am no warrior, it is true, but I shall become one and one day I shall dance in the blood of Sir Ralph Murdac - I shall crush him like, like . . .’ I could not think of how I would crush him, and so I stopped.
    ‘Well said,’ said Robin. ‘Spoken like a man. And we shall make a warrior of you before too long. I am sending you to a seasoned fighter who, though no longer as spry as he once was, will teach you his trade . . .’ His voice trailed away, he was clearly lost in thought. ‘But we can make more of you than just a soldier, I think . . .’
    Silence fell again on the three of us. Then Robin slapped the table. ‘Enough of this grim talk.’ He smiled apologetically at Marie-Anne, who took hold of his hand.’ Let us have some more wine . . . and some more music.’
    Though I had lost much of my appetite for song, we worked easily through ‘The Thrush and the Honey-Bee’, our voices mingling well together, and then Marie-Anne sang us a French lament called ‘ Le Rêve d’Amour ’. And we all sang ‘My Love is Beautiful’ a second time. As the last sweet notes faded into the corners of the room, Robin took my arm and looked into my face. ‘A voice such as yours should not be wasted,’ he said, kindness once again shining from his silver eyes. ‘You truly have a gift.
    ‘Now, it is late,’ he went on, ‘and you need to rest. Be so good as to ask Hugh to direct you to your sleeping place and ask him to attend me for a few moments.’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ I replied. Marie-Anne wished me a good night and I found myself closing the door and walking down the dark corridor in a state of confused euphoria, feeling that I was truly honoured to serve such