Romancing Robin Hood Read Online Free Page A

possible Folville had asked his question.
    Glaring over Mathilda’s shoulder, straight at her escort, he dismissed him, ‘I’m sure you must have parishioners to lead astray, Brother. I am sure I can attend to this girl alone.’
    The religious brother, the rector of Teigh? Surely the man who’d dragged her here wasn’t a man of the cloth? Mathilda had no time to speculate on this shocking revelation however, for the well-dressed man was repeating his question. ‘Do you know the stories of Robyn Hode, child?’
    â€˜Why, yes, I do, my Lord.’
    Catching the gleam in his eyes, Mathilda remembered herself, and hastily lowered her gaze again, frightened of his reaction to her infraction of class rules.
    He seemed more amused than cross at her boldness, and Mathilda was sure she’d heard suppressed laughter in his voice as he continued, ‘Well, Mathilda, can you tell me what Hode does?’
    â€˜He takes from rich people, sir, and helps those who he decides deserve it.’
    â€˜Very good. That’s almost right. Although, if you listen to the balladeers carefully next time they are at the fair, you’ll notice that he takes from those who are cruel or greedy; they weren’t necessarily rich.’ The man stood and came closer to the girl. She was filthy from the cell, and her shoulders shook, but he reflected, possibly more with hunger and thirst than straightforward fear. Remarkable in one so young; especially a female. ‘You enjoy the stories?’
    â€˜Yes my Lord, my mother used to sing them, and I’ve heard them at the fair.’
    â€˜I like them too. I particularly like the bit when Robyn Hode takes a tax from those passing through Barnsdale, and how he punishes those who fail to discharge their debts.’
    Bile rose in Mathilda’s throat; so all this was about money. She wondered how much her father owed this man.
    â€˜Do you believe everyone should pay their debts, child?’
    She tried to say ‘Yes, my Lord,’ but the words died in her throat as Mathilda imagined her father thrown into a cell like the one she’d occupied, and her brothers, dead or hurt. The horrific pictures rapidly growing within her mind suddenly swam together in an incoherent blur, and her legs began to buckle …
    Grace closed the notebook as she shovelled the final forkful of noodles into her mouth, reluctantly putting her novel notes away and turning her laptop on. She’d put off checking her emails all day, and knew that if she left them until tomorrow the messages that had already started to queue for her attention would have reached insurmountable proportions.
    Scanning the list of forty-eight messages waiting in her inbox, she happily deleted twenty-one of them, all of which extolled the virtues of breast enlargements (Grace’s Rubenesque size 16 figure would never need them), and penile extensions (for heaven’s sake!). Then Grace skipped her eyes through the emails from her students, begging for deadline extensions for essays and projects that should have been handed in weeks before the summer break, along with their general gripes, groans, worries, and excuses.
    Next she opened one from Professor Davis, who informed her he’d passed on her details to Dr Franks at Nottingham. Then she’d had an email from Franks himself.
    Dear Dr Harper,
    Many thanks for agreeing to step in ‘cavalry-like’ as the external examiner for my student – especially at such short notice.
    Viva is a week on Friday at 2 p.m.
    (Grace swore under her breath. Her boss had mentioned ‘soon’ but not ‘instant’)
    Naturally I will take you out to lunch prior to the interview so we may discuss the thesis, its strengths, weaknesses, etc. A copy of the thesis has been sent to you via courier. You should get it tomorrow morning.
    Perhaps you could meet me at 11.30 at the reception of the Lenton Grove building?
    Looking forward to