Rise of the Wolf by Steven A McKay Read Free Book Online Page A

up at his older man, his eyes hopeful.
    “I think not, although we thank you in the name of Christ for your generous offer. We are simply in too much of a hurry to be sidetracked.”
    The man made to move along the path, gesturing for his young companion to follow.
    “I insist.”
    Robin placed himself directly in front of them and the smile fell from his lips, hand dropping to his sword hilt as Arthur stepped into the road behind the churchmen.
    “Our camp is this way. Follow me.”
    “No, wolf's head!” The friar stood his ground, even stamping his foot like a petulant child. “We won't follow –”
    “What food do you have?”
    Robin turned at the younger friar's voice, meeting his hopeful gaze with a reassuring smile.
    “We have cabbage soup, and our cook has just started making a big pot of venison stew,” he replied, watching the skinny youngster's mouth working as saliva formed unbidden and the grumble of his empty stomach seemed to echo back from the sparse spring foliage around them.
    “Hubert, get back here, boy. The abbot shall hear of this, you little bastard!”
    The novice ignored his superior, following Robin as he set off along the trail again, and Arthur shoved the older friar in the back with a curt, “Move it, priest, or I'll knock you out and carry you.”
    It didn't take them long to reach the outlaw's camp and they were all glad to return, the grousing friar barely stopping for breath the whole way as he lambasted Robin and Arthur, promising them eternal torture and a place in hell beside the great tyrants of history.
    “Two bowls of stew for our guests,” Robin shouted over to Edmond. “Make the lad's bowl a big one.” He grinned at the young page and bade him sit, which the lad did gladly, looking around at the other outlaws with interest rather than the fear his elder displayed so obviously.
    “Be at ease.” Robin laughed at the friar as Edmond handed him a steaming bowl and a crust of black bread. “We mean you no harm. You've surely heard of me and the rest of these men; you know we don't murder for pleasure. Be at ease,” he repeated. “In the morning you can be on your way with a full belly and a tale to tell your brother friars.”
    The sun moved into the west and slowly fell, leaving only the crackling camp-fire to cast light on the outlaws and their two guests. The younger of the pair, Hubert, proved to be a friendly boy, who told them they were travelling to Nottingham for the tournament the sheriff was holding in a few weeks. Their abbot had sent them north to the city from Gloucester Greyfriars to bring the word of God to the great number of people who would surely be congregating there to watch or take part in the tourney.
    The promise of a near-priceless silver arrow as a prize had sent ripples of excitement all around the north of England and Custos William de Bromley wanted to make sure the masses gathering in Nottingham would dip into their pockets and contribute alms for his church's upkeep.
    The older friar, Brother Walter, refused to engage in conversation with the men.  He shrank back from any of the outlaws if they came near to him, as if they were flea-ridden dogs or lepers and shouted at Hubert to hold his peace as the youngster spoke with Robin and the men, imparting what news he had from Gloucester and beyond. Still, Walter managed to eat two bowls of Edmond's venison stew and more than his share of ale before falling asleep with his back against a tree stump close to the fire.
    “He says it's a sin to eat too much,” Hubert grumbled, glaring over at his sleeping superior. “But whenever we stop at an inn he eats enough for a horse while only paying for a small bowl of porridge for me.” He sighed. “I suppose this is God's way of teaching me humility before I become a proper friar.”
    Will Scarlet shook his head in annoyance. “Well, lad, you can eat as much as you like tonight. Eat until you throw up if you want.”
    Hubert smiled and took the