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

"No, I find them hiding in the pack of ironmongers from Kent."
Scarlett said, "Rob, all we're sayin' is --"
"Enough!" Robin Hood hopped into the air and landed facing them. "I'm
for a walk! Good day!"
He strode off for the woods, the arrows in his back quiver clicking
rhymically. They watched him go.
Will Stutly sucked one of his few teeth. "Much, that deer done yet?"
Scarlett poked his chin with a long finger. "Too bad you mentioned
malmsey, John. That's got me thirsty. If we had a few pennies we could
walk to the Boar."
"Oh, shut up, Will."


"No, there's nothing like it, Ned, nothing at all. We rise when we please,
we hunt the king's deer, we sleep when we're tired, visit whom we
please when we please -- there's just nothing like it at all. I'd not trade
places with King Henry. No king's treasure could amount to a
hundredth's part of mine."
"Tell us more, pray." The challenge came from a shadow that filled the
doorway. Dust motes whirled around the stolid figure. In a blink the
doorway darkened with two more men, then another. Long tapers hung
from black hands. They shooed a few peasants past them and shut the
door and slammed the shutters. Sunlight and fairy dust were banished
outside.
The Blue Boar was quiet. Robin Hood had several bowls of ale under
his belt by now. He enjoyed talking to the innkeeper Ned, who'd been
the cook in Robin's father's household in the old days. Robin loved to
hear stories about his father's careless Saxon tastes and his mother's
refined French ones. And of how Ned would make him a berry duff if the
boy Robin pestered him enough.
The outlaw chief squinted as the men advanced. Ned the innkeeper
moved slowly down the bar, but froze as a man barked. Ned and Robin
Hood and the inn's boy, Cnut, waited.
The gruff men were knights, dusty from the road. The four wore leather
hauberks with rusted iron plates, scratched Norman helmets and broken
shoes. They carried long knives at their belts and slim swords in their
hands, and faces stern from recent sin. A tall thin knight dropped a
leather sack onto the planks of the bar with a clank.
The four surrounded Robin where he leaned on the bar. The outlaw
stood as straight as he could.
"I said," growled the knight, "tell us more."
Robin squinted again. "More about what?"
The knight used his free hand to punch Robin in the chest.
Quick as a snake Robin's right hand came off the bar and slammed the
knight's jaw shut with a clack! His left swung wide for the second
knight's face or throat -- Robin didn't care which, as long as the man fell
back. He did, and Robin smashed his shoulder into the man who'd hit
him. He clawed for the man's sword. Robin had only his long Irish knife:
his bow and quiver hung from a peg on the wall. The outlaw grabbed,
but the man clutched his sword tight. Robin had the disquieting thought