Warlord(36)

‘He has? How could he possibly …’ stammered the head merchant before his hand flew to his mouth. Then, realizing what he had revealed, he plucked wretchedly at his tawny fur collar in confusion. ‘What I mean is, we have had no such dealings with the French. We have remained steadfast, utterly loyal. We are King Richard’s faithful subjects. Faithful unto …’



‘Death?’ said Robin, lifting one eyebrow.

Nobody spoke for several moments. Then Robin continued: ‘The Lionheart is coming with all his legions … and he knows that you have connived with King Philip to deprive him of his rightful revenues! And he is wrathful.’

Sir Roger spoke; he sounded a little fretful. ‘We shall welcome him, open our gates, and honour him as our true lord when he arrives here,’ he said. ‘We are all agreed …’

‘Oh yes,’ said the merchant. ‘We are all agreed. We will prepare a great feast for all his knights, and have maidens strew his path with rose petals. Our monks will sing hosannas at his arrival. Our hospitality will be the most lavish ever offered a monarch … absolutely no expense will be spared …’

The head merchant tailed off in the face of my master’s glower. Robin remained silent, dominating the delegation with his odd, silver eyes. I could see pearls of sweat breaking out on the brows of the merchants.

The Archbishop cleared his throat delicately, his faint superior smile remained in place. ‘Perhaps there is some way in which we can assuage the righteous anger of the King?’ he suggested, with a tiny flourish of his hand.

‘Perhaps,’ said Robin.

‘Perhaps if we were to make some solid gesture of our loyalty to His Highness …’ The Archbishop cocked his head on one side, and raised an eyebrow at Robin.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Sir Roger, now absurdly, puppyishly eager. ‘But what? What does he want?’

The Archbishop’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling of the tent and back down again, as if he were seeking the gift of patience from the Almighty. He murmured: ‘Perhaps some small contribution to ease the pain of the Lionheart’s heavy expenditure in this war, a small emolument …’

‘Perhaps not a small contribution,’ said Robin.



‘Oh,’ said the head merchant, and his fur-covered shoulders sagged under the weight of comprehension.


I was not present when the merchant and Robin thrashed out the details of the douceur that the city of Tours would offer up to cool King Richard’s temper. Robin usually preferred to have as few witnesses as possible for his shady money dealings, and when the Archbishop and Sir Roger had left, John, Thomas, the bowmen and I quit the tent, leaving my lord and the miserable-looking head merchant to haggle for almost an hour until a price had been fixed.

The next day, at noon, when the money had been delivered, however, Robin could not keep his delight to himself. ‘Two thousand pounds, Alan! Two thousand pounds of silver. That is what I wrangled from the guilty bastards. I had no idea Tours was so rich. Perhaps I should have persuaded Richard to sack the place and we could have filled a dozen wagon-trains with our plunder!’

I found this side of Robin’s character disheartening: I wanted him to live up to the noble behaviour that I knew he was capable of and which I had witnessed so many times – yet I also recognized that he harboured a hunger for silver, almost like a drunkard’s lust for wine, that could cause him to do the most unspeakable things solely for personal gain.

‘How much of that will our good King Richard see?’ I said, perhaps a little too sourly.

Robin looked at me hard, a glint of steel in his grey eyes. We were once again in his tent, alone but for a clerk who was seated in the corner, making notes on a parchment roll. In the centre of the floor was a waist-high mound of small, lumpy linen bags that chinked whenever they were moved by the clerk’s counting hand.

‘Most of it, Alan. Almost all of it,’ Robin said coldly. ‘I’m sending Richard two-thirds of the money – a full two thousand marks this very afternoon.’



‘That is very generous of you.’ I could not keep the vinegar out of my voice.

Robin stared at me for a long moment. ‘Earlier this year, you will remember, Alan, I was forced to give up a very lucrative trade in the East, at King Richard’s demand. I think I have the right to compensate myself fully for this loss. Do you not agree?’

‘The King gave you half a dozen new manors to compensate you for that loss, as I recall.’ In spite of myself, and my great regard for my lord, I was becoming angry at Robin’s unabashed greed. ‘Is that not enough for you?’