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Robin cranked his crossbow into the firing position and secured it beneath his cloak They were on their way to Salisbury Master Baret had co he needed an escort He wanted three men ere sober, honest and in no way associated with Dick Vowell That posed a problem because there were only two places where you could recruit an escort in a hurry One was the George and the other was the Julian

If you went to the George you'd get Wat Gallor's et Dick Vowell's Neither appealed to the old man and they'd called on the services of Gareth and David, a couple of Welsh lads who'd arrived in town to join Guy Gascoigne's archers Robin knew them as relatives of Owen Ap-Richard, orked the country fairs ooden heads you could shoot at for prizes

They had spent the first night at an inn It was bucketing doith rain and the road was impassable If it had been left to Robin, they would have turned back The direct route was flooded and they'd have to pick their way through the woods to reach their destination on time That was no easy aame and there was the ever-present risk of outlaws

Gareth knew soh while waiting to cross to France Robin decided to leave the old man with David and set off with Gareth to find them They went down a narrow path and were soon surrounded by dense vegetation Tracks branched off to left and right Without the sun, Robin soon lost all sense of direction

'Are you sure we're going the right way?'

'Trust me, boyo' Gareth brimmed with confidence 'They've built a shelter like we have in Wales'

'How do you know they'll be there?'

'They've got nowhere else to go, boyo They've got to rough it in the woods until they can join Sir Guy in France'

Robin grew uneasy He'd left his charge with a sixteen-year-old and gone into unknown territory with a guide ould never ad followed On a ridge, above their heads, the birds were agitated Nothing disturbs the greenwoodpace with them If they were travellers they could join them There was safety in nu up there? The ridge didn't lead anywhere