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

goods had been auctioned away, they had glared and chomped on their
gags. John scratched his jaw in imitation of Robin Hood. "Can't sell 'em.
Can't eat 'em. Can't leave 'em here, 'cause that'd get Paul in trouble.
Hmmmm..."
A little later the Merry Men approached the tall broad towers that were
the gates of Nottingham. Slung from Little John's quarterstaff, between
John and Hard-Hitting Brand, were the two knights. With hands and
bare feet in the air, their gambesons hung slack. Their rumps shone in
the sunshine. Women in the fields pointed and laughed.
The foresters stopped in the road outside crossbow range. The sheriff's
guards, in blue gypons and soup-bowl helmets, had already gathered at
the gate -- they could spot Lincoln green a mile off. Little John dropped
the knights in the road and slid his staff clear. "Hoy! Captain of the
guard!"
The captain cupped his hands around his mouth. "What d'ya want?"
"These here are the false knights robbed the widow of Three Oaks by
Derby! Give 'em to the sheriff with our compliments!"
"Compliments of who?"
"Don't be thick!" the giant retorted. He pointed with his thumb at the
guards and asked Will Scarlett, "Relations o` yours?"
Robin's cousin snorted. "Maybe. My father went into Nottingham a lot.
But none of them -- thick as they are -- would trade away two liveries
and horses for forty marks."
Little John shrugged and started down the road towards Sherwood. His
quarterstaff on his shoulder stuck out six feet behind him. "I suppose
not. Next time, you do the negotiating and I'll be the one to keep quiet."


Old Tomkin sat down by the side of the path to rest. He kept the gold in
his lap with one hand on it. He grimaced at Much, who had followed him
for miles. "Awful hot today, ain't it?"
Much pointed up. "Sun's out."
"Aye. Makes it hot. But my hands are cold. Funny." Tom wheezed and
rubbed his chest. "Can't get my breath neither. Not as young as I used
to be. M' ribs feel squashed."
He tried to shift the gold in his lap, but it was too heavy. He shifted
himself instead and winced. "You don't need to keep me company, lad.
I can fend for m'self. You just run along now. I'm going to just rest here,
maybe take a nap... Awful hot. Makes me chest..."
His head sank back and he lay still. Much sat down beside him to wait.
He waited a long time.
Much grew hungry. He poked the old man gently on the leg. He was
stiff. The idiot poked the man in the eyeball. He was dead. Much knew
what death was.
He scratched his upper lip for a time.
Eventually he picked up the shirt full of money. He started walking
towards the Blue Boar.


"Because we still owe the widow ten marks, that's why."