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

Before Will Scarlett could say anything, Little John poked him.
"How much farther?"
Robin stopped and turned. Any time they addressed him he stopped,
and was slow to start again. "Eh?"
"I said, how much farther?"
"Farther?"
"To camp, you oaf!"
Robin Hood leaned against the bole of an oak tree that reared to the
sky. This was climax forest, where the trees had almost ceased to
grow. The lowest branches were fifty feet off the ground. The ground
was carpeted with oak leaves and nothing else, as clean as if
overgrazed by goats. The only moving things were brown moths. High
overhead a green woodpecker laughed, the sound eerie.
Behind him had come the four robber knights on their horses. The
beasts' hooves were silent on the dead pliant leaves. Only an
occasional thud of iron on root sounded in the cathedral of forest. That
and the knights' grumbling.
The leader, whose name was Roger, kicked his mount to crowd Robin.
He slapped at him with the end of his reins. Robin Hood took it on his
shoulder. "How much farther to this stinking outlaw camp of yours? And
the gold?"
Robin rubbed his chin. "Oh. To camp, milord. Let's see now..." Robin
pretended to think. He yawned.
Roger's face turned bright red. He scrabbled off his horse and ripped
his sword from its sheath to level it at Robin's belly. "Yes, you
goddamned yellow scurvy outlaw bastard mongrel whoremongering
fool! Yes, to the camp and the treasure you spoke of, you idiot! And
why are you yawning, you dick-headed harlequin? Aren't you afraid?"
Robin waved an apologetic hand. "Of course I'm afraid, milord.
Terrified. But I was up all night and I drank my breakfast -- we outlaws
live to carouse, you know -- and -- I'm tired."
In truth, Robin Hood had planned to lead these men on a little farther,
past this stand of oaks and down a slope to the edge of a fen. There, in
the holly and hawthorn, cattails and bullrushes, he had planned to run
away from them. Horses couldn't penetrate that swamp without sinking,
even if a rider could force them onto the deer trails. But if he did lead
them to the fen... There would be mosquitoes down there -- he and
Marian had had to avoid some of their favorite places because of the
clouds. It was a warm spring. And the fairies might still be abroad, since
they stirred in the spring along with everything else, and their first
thoughts were in discomfiting humans. And Robin didn't himself like that
fen. There were barrows back there, and probably barrow wights. And
he was hungry and thirsty and tired, and he didn't feel like running...
"No, I'm addled," he said. "T'will be quicker to cut up north and come to
camp that way. The trail should be dry by now."
Roger waggled his sword. "So how far?"
Robin scratched his elbow where it protruded from his shirt. "Oh, not an
hour's walk."
The knights looked at one another. Clearly, they didn't know what to
make of this rogue. Roger jabbed at Robin's chest, scarring his tunic