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74 pages

English

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The village of Papplewick has a new head family keen to exchange goodwill with the outlaws. Robin decides that Much should be the one to meet with the family's eldest child each month to swap tax money for food and information. However, Much is less than thrilled; the last thing he wants to do is trudge across Sherwood in all weathers just to talk to a girl.The Meeting Place is the ninth book in Spiteful Puppet's Robin of Sherwood collection, based in the Robin Hood universe of the classic ITV series.

Sujets

Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)

Adventure (Guyana)

Adventure

Fantasy

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	21 janvier 2021
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781913256432
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

The Meeting Place
Part 9 of the Robin of Sherwood Series
Jennifer Ash

Originally published by
Chinbeard Books
The edition published by
Spiteful Puppet
www.spitefulpuppet.com
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Ash
The right of Jennifer Ash to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Television series Robin of Sherwood © HTV/Goldcrest Films & Television 1983. Created by Richard Carpenter.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

Prologue
The rain pelted against the young man’s hood as he wove through the trees. But it wasn’t the rain that bothered him. He was used to that; used to being wet and cold from hours in the rain, or scorched by the sun or numbed by frost and snow. Watching, waiting, listening...
Years of living in Sherwood Forest had taught him to ignore even the raindrops that found a way to trickle down the back of his neck when his hood was up, and there should have been no way in.
Moving with a silent speed that came from years of existing outside of the law, Much tugged his cloak tighter across his chest.
Why me, Robin? Why did you pick me?

April

Chapter 1
More concerned with keeping the flights of his arrows dry than with sheltering himself from the mid-April downpour, Much approached the location Robin had suggested as a safe meeting place. Just to the right, off the forest’s main path, he’d never have known it was there if he hadn’t been expecting to see it.
Two tree trunks, a fraction thinner than those surrounding them, provided a narrow gap just big enough for a person to squeeze between. This gap led into a clearing, no more than six feet in either direction. There was space enough for two people to meet, exchange a brief greeting and goods and go on their away again.
Much’s gaze landed on the fallen trunk that spanned its middle; it would provide somewhere to sit if the messenger was running late. But as that same messenger didn’t yet know where to find him, he returned to the path.
Walking on a few paces, listening intently for any misplaced sounds, Much spotted an oak wide enough to lean against, out of sight, while he waited.
The sense of injustice the youngest of Robin Hood’s men had felt since leaving his friends that morning had grown with every muddy step he’d taken.
‘ Look after the children, Much. Collect the firewood, Much…’ Mocking Robin’s voice, he kicked a stone, sending it skittering into the undergrowth. ‘Clean the horses, Much. I have a job for you Much…you’re a man now, Much. You should have more responsibility, Much.’
Resentment tightened in his chest.
Yeah, right, Robin. What you actually mean is, it be pouring with rain and no one else wants to walk through Sherwood, getting soaked to the skin just to buy apples .
The ground made sucking noises beneath his boots as the rain bounced off the leaves above, sending stray droplets of water trickling down his chin. ‘What’s so special about Papplewick’s apples anyway? What’s wrong with Wickham or Calverton apples?’
Warming his right hand in the folds of his cloak, Much felt the weight of the money pouch knock against his leg.
Robin must think I’s stupid. We could buy an orchard’s worth of apples for the money he gave me. And why me? If I’m a man now, then why isn’t I guarding the camp or going on watch rather than running around as messenger boy?
As he rested under the canopy of the large oak, Much pictured his fellow outlaws back at their spring camp. They’d be sheltered under the trees, a roaring fire keeping the worst of the damp at bay, while the ever present cooking pot bubbled and glooped beneath the skin roof they’d erected to keep rainwater out of Tuck’s cooking.
Little John, Will Scarlet, Marion, Friar Tuck and Robin Hood would be sat together, laughing probably, near their source of heat. Laughing at him maybe, for getting drenched to the bone while they were safe and warm. Even Nasir, who’d been about to take his turn as lookout as Much left, would make sure he observed the track ways of Sherwood from a sheltered position.
‘This should be Tuck’s job or Marion’s or...’ Much’s discontented mutterings died on his tongue. Clumsy footsteps were approaching from the other direction.
He froze as he heard a boot slide in the mud, followed by a grumbled cursing. Instinct took over and Much dived towards the clearing. Lodged between the slim tree trunks, using the fresh burst of spring leaves to add to his cover, he concentrated on the sounds made by whoever was heading his way.
There was just one set of footsteps. Not soldiers then; they always operated in groups. And none of the local foresters would bother to patrol in this weather.
I wonder if it’s the messenger from Papplewick?
Much peeped out of his hiding place, staring as far as he dare along the path and was surprised to see a young woman walking in his direction. Her head was bent against the elements and her was hood up. One hand held her cloak closed across her front, while the other jostled with a rain soaked sack as she struggled to keep it balanced over her shoulder. All Much could see of her face was a dripping strand of plaited red hair which had fallen across a forehead creased in angry concentration.
She looks cross. I ‘ope she isn’t the one I’m looking for, but I bet she is. That’d be just my luck that would.’ Much groaned as he saw her stamp closer to where he was hiding. ‘Scarlet should be doing this. He’s good with women. I’s not sure ‘ow he does it, but he only ‘as to smile at them as they goes all giggly.
Kate would have rubbed the early morning sleep from her eyes, but her hands were wet and numb with cold as one palm gripped the heavy sack, and the other tried to stop her hood blowing down. Twigs split beneath her boots as she grumpily waded through the forest, wondering how her father could have been so callous as to send her out in such weather.
It had only been two weeks since they’d left their old home near Newark to live in the village of Papplewick, within the bounds of Sherwood Forest. They’d been accepted into the small community with a friendly enough welcome, but her father, as the new chief villager, was already feeling the heavy weight of responsibility.
Since her mother had died, Kate and her father, William, had muddled along. Yet her much loved parent’s absence was constantly felt, so when an opportunity to leave their old life arrived, William had seized it; hoping a new beginning in a different part of the county would make the empty days easier to bear. Even though she missed her old friends, Kate had followed her father’s wishes like a dutiful daughter. She hadn’t banked on him appointing her messengers to the outlaws though.
She’d heard of Robin Hood. Who hadn’t? He was the people’s hero. Some even claimed he was Herne the Hunter’s son. But, here and now, as she passed between the rain whipped trees, about to meet Robin Hood or one of his men, Kate started to wonder how true those stories were. Was she really as safe as her father had claimed? If so, why had he lectured her at least ten times on making sure she was careful?
She muttered under her breath, kicking a stick from her path. ‘As if moving away from our home wasn’t bad enough... now Father sends me out to meet a dangerous outlaw on my own.’
Mocking her father’s voice, she spoke louder with every sodden step. ‘I’m head of the village, Kate. It’s expected of me, Kate. If we want the outlaw’s protection then we must show them trust, Kate! Well, sending your only child out as a sacrificial lamb to a hardened outlawed seems pretty trusting to me. I don’t even know where I’m going.’
Even though William had told his daughter that the outlaw would find her and show her where to go, rather than her have to blunder around searching, Kate felt lost. Her father had sent her into a dangerous wilderness where a nightmare could lurk behind every tree, with only a load of fruit to defend herself.
‘I bet he don’t even like apples!’
Screwing her eyes against the wind, Kate heaved the sack further up her shoulder. Slippery from the rain soaked weight, it instantly slid off her arm again. As she tried to catch it, Kate tripped over an exposed tree root and found herself flying, face first, towards a muddy puddle with no way to break her fall. Crying out in shock and pain, Kate’s knees hit the ground with a bruising thump. The sack of apples slumped next to her, splashing icy dirty water up her arms and across her face, adding spots to her natural freckles.
‘OWWW.... oh, great.’ Kate scrabbled to collect the fallen apples, angrily lobbing them back into the sack, as her father’s final warnings echoed through her head. Don’t get lost Kate ... stick to the path Kate... ‘I suppose if you were here Father, you’d be saying, ‘pick up all the apples, Kate…’
Suddenly a shadow cast over her as she crouched over the apples, and Kate let out a cry of alarm. A hooded figure was looming forward, his hand on its way to the nearest apple.
‘Hey, these aren’t fo