"Clayton Emery - Robin Hood's Treasure" - читать интересную книгу автора (Emery Clayton)

He'd give them his gold and bolt for the woods if necessary. If he could
find the Merry Men, they could maybe hunt the knights down. Or maybe
not. And he could always steal more gold.
Robin chirped as he crept into the cave, but there was no answer.
Roger bustled in behind him, leather-and-iron armor creaking and
squeaking. The tall Rufus came after and thumped his head on the
entrance. But that was all. Wycliff the Quick-Tempered stayed outside,
as did old Tomkin. Wycliff said nothing, but Tom carried on about
"caves ain't no fit place for men. Devils' territory, that. Y'u'd be mad to
venture in there..."
Robin Hood reached for his belt and found his sheath empty. "Borrow
your knife?"
Roger squinted in the dark. He'd drawn his sword. "D'ya think I'm a
fool?"
Robin didn't answer that. He poked around and found an iron spoon.
"Never mind."
He felt with his hand for the spot. There it was, tamped down in the
shape of feet in deerhide soles. He dug. The earth seemed looser than
it should be. He hadn't been at this chest in weeks...
His spoon scraped hard dirt. The hole was deep now. He stopped. He
felt around. He poked the soil on either side of the hole. It was tough,
undisturbed.
Robin Hood sat back on his heels. He scritched his beard.
Behind him stood Roger and Rufus. Their sword blades shone dimly in
the yellow light of the cave mouth.
"So where's this gold?"


"Christ, what a day! Bloody woman."
The Sheriff of Nottingham rode the skirt of Sherwood Forest, going
west. He had more taxes, more rents to collect, more business to
transact. He smiled at the thought. And if he should meet the robber
knights, well and good. His men could capture them, and he'd impound
their money. "But it would be just my luck to meet bloody Robin Hood
and his bloody Merry bloody Men --"
He heard a zip and thop! and blinked. An arrow shaft stuck out of his
horse's breast just in front of his foot. How did that --
His horse took another three steps, died, and collapsed. His nose
banged the dirt road, his neck twisted, his body slumped at an angle.
Nicholas of Nottingham followed, tumbling out of his high Norman
saddle. He landed on his back knowing his clothes would be filthy. Then
the sky darkened.
A hand came down and caught the sheriff by the doublet. Nicholas was
plucked up off his feet as he hadn't been since a child.
Little John propped the sheriff on his feet. The forester was impossibly
tall, making Nicholas feel even smaller. He grinned. "Hail and well met,
good Sheriff. Master." The giant laughed, then laughed some more.
"How your home and your lovely wife? Hired a new cook, or any more
servants?"
Nicholas scowled. It was not so long ago that Little John, then unknown,