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

The voice came from the trees. Alphonse jumped like a rabbit struck
with an arrow.
One of Robin's foresters had appeared from nowhere. He was tall and
broad, Saxon blonde, with a crooked nose and large bony fists. He
wore forester's green and a tunic of chain mail scraps, with a bow taller
than himself and arrows half as long, and a staghorn knife in his belt. In
the green wilderness Alphonse found him more terrible than a dragon.
"A-are you Robin Hood's man, Little John?"
The man reared back and laughed. "Me? No, I'm just a little titch
compared to Little John! He's big! Come along and meet him. Are you
bearing news or asking for help? You don't act smug enough to have
news, so you must need help. Am I right? And stop shaking. Your teeth
chattering will scare the deer."
Robin's camp was only a meadow at the base of a tall hill. A lime tree
filled the sky and shaded the glade. Oak trees loomed so high they
could crush a boy and never notice. A cave mouth in the hillside
beckoned and repelled Alphonse at the same time. Caves led to hell.
Robin's band of Merry Men (as Alphonse had heard them called in
songs) lay around like cows in a paddock. There was an older man with
a head grey and white like a badger's, a squat and ugly and
snaggle-toothed idiot, a smiling rogue in red, a peasant fresh from the
plow. Most noticeable of all was a man who covered too much grass.
And as he stood... Alphonse found himself staring up at the giant's face,
silhouetted against the sky like the face of God. The giant had a blonde
beard cut like a spade and a long braid down his back. His hand was
bigger than the Bible in the parish church.
The man with the crooked nose called, "Someone looking for help."
"Looks more like he's after food," said the man in red. Alphonse had
smelt roasting deer. "I'll cut him a haunch before he faints and we don't
get our news."
"None of the deer you shoot are ever edible, Will," put in the grey man,
"You always gutshoot the poor things and let 'em run. Makes 'em
bitter."
"You're just cranky 'cuz you ain't got the teeth to chew 'em with, Will."
"Least when I shoot 'em, they go down and not long."
Robin's cousin cut away a long wide slice of golden-brown venison and
juggled it as he rolled it into a tube. He handed it to the hungry boy,
whose eyes shone with appreciation.
The man with the crooked nose, Hard-Hitting Brand, poked Alphonse
with a finger. "Your news, boy?"
The boy spoke around a mouthful. "I'm Alphonse, son of Amabillia,
widow of Richard of Three Oaks near to Derby."
"Widow Amabillia. We know of her," said the giant. His voice rumbled as
if from under the ground.
"We was attacked early this morning. Before dawn. There were four
knights tried to get into our manse. They stayed the night in our barn,
and when they couldn't get inside this morn, they fired the barn. Then
they fired the door and broke in. They took mother's treasure."
The man in red, Will Scarlett, asked, "How much treasure?"
Little John pointed a finger like the short end of a club. "Tha's none of