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

piece of bread Will held out to him with a grateful nod.
     
     
    When they awoke in the morning, Brother Walter was glad to see most of the outlaws were absent – gone off hunting or fishing or, more likely he thought with a scowl, robbing people.
    Robin came over to him and helped him up. Young Hubert was already awake and mopping up the last of a bowl of porridge with another piece of bread.
    “Here,” the outlaw captain handed some of the steaming breakfast to the sour-faced friar. “Eat up, and you can be off.”
    “As easy as that?” Walter shovelled the porridge into his mouth with his hand, licking oats from his fingers as he looked warily at Robin, as if he expected the big man to skewer him any second.
    “As easy as that,” Robin agreed, watching the friar devour the meal with a twinkle in his eye. “Once you pay us for your bed and board.”
    Walter spat in fury and a mouthful of food dribbled down his chin.
    “Whatever's in your purse will be enough to cover your debt I'm sure.”
    Before the outraged Franciscan could react the outlaw stepped in close and, with a knife that seemed to appear in his hand from thin air, sliced through the leather thong that held his purse onto his belt.
    Moving back to sit by the fire Robin tossed the purse up and down, feeling the weight with a satisfied nod. “Yes, this'll be just enough I'm sure. I trust you enjoyed your stay here in Barnsdale?”
    “You heathen scum –”
    Little John and Allan-a-Dale appeared behind the protesting friar and shepherded him from the camp, back towards the main road, screaming for God to rain hell-fire and brimstone on the wolf's head.
    Robin, grinning wickedly, clasped young Hubert by the shoulder and pressed the coin purse into the youngster's hand surreptitiously. “There you go lad, keep that hidden under your cassock and buy yourself a pie whenever you get a chance. You best be off or Brother Walter will tell the Custos on you.”
    Laughing, the skinny page made the sign of the cross, blessing the wolf's head, before stuffing the remainder of a loaf into his mouth and running into the trees after his elder.
     
    * * *
     
    “You really think this will work?” Gisbourne placed his black crossbow on the table beside him and rubbed irritably at his ruined eye-socket. Most people would have worn an eye-patch but the bounty hunter understood the power of appearances and liked to seem as menacing as possible. The sight of his weeping scar was enough to frighten most people.
    Matt Groves nodded confidently. “Aye, I do. Hood himself isn't reckless, or stupid, enough to fall for it. But one of the gang members will want to win that silver arrow and they'll enter the competition. Then it's just a matter of capturing the fool and waiting for Hood to come and rescue them. The loyalty he shows to the men is admirable. And stupid.”
    Gisbourne grunted non-committally. It seemed a hopeful plan to him, but, even with Groves's knowledge of the outlaws and their habits, they'd not managed to come close to finding the wolf's head and his followers in the past few weeks. If Matt's idea flushed them out into the open it would certainly make things a sight easier. Going back into the dense undergrowth of Barnsdale didn't appeal to Gisbourne – his depth perception, and, as a result, his fighting ability, had been hopelessly damaged with the loss of his eye. So, he now had to rely on strategy and cunning more than simple brute force if he was going to kill the wolf's head and his followers.
    Besides, Groves's suggestion that Hood was too smart to fall for their ruse was something the bounty hunter questioned.  He had a good idea how the wolf's head's mind worked. The man was proud, and he wanted the people to love and respect him. That was why he'd turned up to fight Gisbourne one-on-one on the bridge at Dalton, even though he must have known he had next to no chance of winning the duel. Yes, his reputation meant the world to Robin Hood, and