SEVEN 

The hatchet-faced robber, One Tooth, had watched the entire encounter from within the thick canopy of the oak tree under which Charlie had first appeared. He had been taking a nap in the crook of a thick branch, where it joined the main trunk. He had been suddenly shaken awake by an almighty roaring sound that was followed by a shaft of light that shot up from the ground beneath the tree. The flash of light lasted about a second but seared into his eyes and for several minutes left him temporarily blinded. One Tooth was frightened and disconcerted by the noise and light, and did not move until his sight began to return and his panic eased. When he could see again he immediately spotted a strange looking youth. He seemed to be shouting something at nothing. What was he shouting, he couldn’t quite hear, but it sounded like a name, “Chaylee” Or something like that.

Then he heard the distinctive sound of pounding hooves, a warhorse, undoubtedly a knight. He saw the boy fling himself to the ground and then the huge horse come hurtling over the crest of a small hill. He saw the rider, who was a knight as One Tooth had suspected, being thrown clear out of the saddle when the horse shied and reared up. One Tooth thought that was extremely funny and he watched the rest of the scene play out with interest. He shifted along the branch to get a better view of events and to try and hear what was being said between the two.

One Tooth was careful to be as quiet as possible and to not expose himself to the knight. After all, he was an outlaw and the knight would recognise him as such immediately. It would be the knight’s duty to take him captive. His capture would lead to a trial, and then inevitably to the hangman’s noose and that would not do at all. What he did see that intrigued him, and which stirred his robber’s black heart, was the heavy

looking purse that hung at the knight’s belt and he guessed that it would be stuffed full of gold pennies. One Tooth stroked the ugly purple scar that ran across his face, from ear to ear, as he considered his next move. The purse would make a pretty prize and that was no mistake; it would probably allow him to buy a passage to Normandy where he could lay low for a while. England was not a big country and his face was becoming widely known. He could no longer travel with the anonymity he would like. He would love to be able to steal that knight’s purse and have those golden pennies for himself.

In the part of the conversation that he could hear he heard the knight clearly say that he was bound for Sherebrook castle and One Tooth knew the road well. He knew of a good place to stage an ambush and he also knew that he could finish the job in an instant if he could get one good clean arrow into the knight’s neck. The knight looked quite old and, although surprisingly agile, he would not be able to dodge an unexpected arrow. He would cut the small boy in half with a single stroke of his sword and then the money would be his. He resolved to attack in a small glade that the road to Sherebrook wound through, just two miles south of the castle.

One Tooth was a wiry and tough individual who had spent his entire life living rough, stealing and murdering. He relished the idea of surprising this old knight and the boy and making a good prize for himself. All he had to do was wait until they were out of sight, drop from the tree, and then cut across country, ignoring the road so that he could get ahead of the pair and be at the ambush site in time for them to pass by. One arrow and one sword stroke would do it and he would be rich.

One Tooth waited until the knight trotted off with the boy running behind and then gathered up his bow; his quiver of arrows and a rust flecked sword in a battered scabbard hung at his side. He sprung right out of the tree and landed on the ground in a squatting position. He resembled an incredibly ugly toad. He slung the bow and quiver of arrows over his shoulder and held the sword loosely at his side and then immediately broke into a steady paced run, following the direction that Sir Geoffrey and Charlie had taken. After about five hundred metres, One Tooth veered away from the dusty road and struck out across a field of heather, taking the shortcut to get ahead of the knight. Now he had blood lust in his heart and the greed for gold in his head. The slaughter of an old

knight and a small boy would be an insignificant price to pay for such a prize.