Outlaw Read Online Free Page B

scum-bag! Up!” He threw open the door and dragged his father out past the guards.
    “A bit early, aren’t you?” said one of them.
    “Sir Guy of Gisbourne’s orders,” Robin said. “Come on, Samson, move yourself, you great oaf.” And Robin jerked on the rope and hauled his father up the winding stairs, across the great hall of the castle and out into the courtyard beyond. Through the arched gateway Robin could see the milling crowd in the market square, and the horse waiting, tied to one of the cages where he had left it. Therewas still the wide courtyard to cross and then the drawbridge, and at the far end of it were the castle guards. Somehow Robin and his father had to get past them without arousing suspicion. Slipping past unnoticed would be impossible. Robin went around behind his father, drew his sword and jabbed him in the back, none too gently.
    “When I kick you, Father,” he whispered, “fall over. Understand?” His father staggered forward across the courtyard, through the gateway and out on to the drawbridge, arms outstretched in front of him. Robin was taunting him and prodding him on, much to the delight of all the onlookers. “I’ll show you, Samson. Kill the king’s deer, would you!” Once on the drawbridge and close now to the guards, he stepped back and took a running kick at his father who stumbled to his knees, groping in front of him, cursing and crying at the same time.Robin laid into him with the flat of his sword and kicked him again. “Up, you beggar. Get up.” Then he called out to the guards. “Here, give us a hand, will you? Sir Guy wants him paraded around the square before we put him in his cage. We’ll stick him up on that horse. They’ll see him better.” So, between them, the guards heaved him up on to the horse. “Once round the square and into his cage,” said Robin, taking the rein over the horse’s head to lead it. “That’s what Sir Guy said, so that’s what I’ll do. It’ll be the last time this one’ll be going to market.” The guards laughed at that and watched them go.
    Robin walked away as slowly as he dared, calling out as he went. “Look at this! Look at this! See what happens to poachers. We put his eyes out and we’re hanging him at noon. Death to all poachers. Throw what you like at him. Just don’t hit me, that’sall.” And the crowd howled with laughter and began to throw anything they could, rotten apples, turnips, even pig’s muck. Much of it missed, but enough found its target to encourage others to do the same. They were halfway round the market square now, at the furthest point from the sheriff’s men, who were still lounging by the bridge. Feigning to adjust the girth, Robin leapt nimbly up behind his father, put his heels to the horse’s side and rode off past the traders, through the crowd who seemed to see it as part of the fun, particularly when he caught a rotten apple and squeezed it over his father’s head.
    Robin gave only one glance backwards as he turned out of the square and down the street. The sheriff’s men were just beginning to notice, one of them was running after him and shouting for him to stop. They would be after him soon enough now.Robin just hoped and prayed he had enough of a headstart.
    “Hold on, Father,” he cried. “Just hold on.” Scattering people and pigs and sheep in all directions, he thundered down the streets, through the city gate and out into the open country beyond. The guards at the gate could only gape. He was past them and gone before anyone could even try to stop him.
    But now would come the real test. There were four or five miles of open farmland before they could reach the safety of Sherwood. A look over his shoulder, and Robin saw the chase was on. The sheriff’s men were through the city gates and already closer behind than he had thought possible, twenty of them, maybe more, and every time he looked they were gaining on them. The horse laboured under their weight, his head