Pamarchon made the lad sit on the cushion opposite him while they talked, every now and then being interrupted as one or other of the other outlaws — Pamarchon’s closest companions — came up.
‘This is Djon,’ he said, introducing the vast man who had carried the injured Callan back to the camp. ‘A good heart, and good man,’ he added as Djon clasped the boy’s hand in his huge paw.
For some reason the boy looked sceptical. ‘And your real name is Robin Hood, I suppose.’
‘No. Why do you think that?’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’
‘This woman, this Rosalind,’ he said, bringing the topic of conversation around to her as soon as he possibly could. ‘You must know her. Are you part of her entourage? A relation? I confess there is a likeness between you, though she is more beautiful by far.’
The boy frowned as though he didn’t know what to say to this, and kept silent.
‘Come, my lad! Don’t be shy! You are amongst friends here, and if you are indeed one of the Lady Rosalind’s then you are doubly safe, for I would willingly die to save you for her sake, were you in any danger.’
The boy opened his mouth, shut it again and finally said, with some hesitation, ‘I am certainly connected to her. A relation, indeed. I might even say her closest confidant. As near to a brother as she has.’
‘Wonderful!’ Pamarchon said. ‘Then did she mention that we met at the Festivity of Willdon?’
‘She mentioned many people. She met so many she could not possibly remember them all.’
‘I spent an hour with her, as her escort.’
‘Ah! Then she did mention you. Briefly.’
‘Did she speak well of me?’
‘Not so much.’
‘No?’
‘She found your manners a little rough, sir. Queer, if you like. So naturally she could not be well disposed to you. You left her abruptly and insulted her. I believe it was the second time you had turned your back on her.’
‘That pains me greatly,’ the outlaw said.
‘I fear you got no measure of her,’ his guest replied sadly. ‘Her manners and customs are very different, and if you do not know them, then certainly she will choose one of her other suitors.’
‘She will choose? What about her family?’
‘They will have no say in the matter. She is headstrong and will have no interference in anything which concerns her happiness and fortune. She may choose no one, and have lovers instead.’
There was a brief noise as the servant dropped a plate on the ground. ‘I am so sorry, my Lord,’ she said, her head bowed in evident shame so that her hair covered her face.
Pamarchon had forgotten she was there. ‘Go away now. You may return to clear up later. And don’t call me “my Lord”. I am not so.’
Then he turned back to his guest. ‘Pray continue, young man,’ he said as the servant withdrew. ‘I must ask you frankly, how may I win her?’
Once the servant had risen and left, Pamarchon reclined on the cushion behind him so that he could stare up at the stars. The boy moved closer to the fire and shivered slightly.
‘Would you like a cloak?’
‘No. I’m fine.’
‘Now we are really alone, I wish you to speak freely.’
The boy poked the fire with a stick. ‘How may you win her? What a question,’ he said after a while. ‘It depends what you mean by win, really. Going to one such as she and saying — come and live in a tent in the forest for the rest of your life? I mean, that isn’t going to go down very well, is it now?’
Pamarchon did not reply.
‘She is used to courteous behaviour, and you live as an outlaw, taking prisoners, holding people against their will. You are surrounded by some sort of army. This is not so appealing.’
‘I live according to my circumstances, as I must.’
‘That woman who served your food, for example. Who is she?’
‘I do not know. The servant of the student we found wandering in the forest.’
‘Are they here of their own free will?’
‘No. I suspect they are spying for the Lady of Willdon.’
‘So they are prisoners?’
‘For the time being. They will come to no harm, as long as they behave themselves.’
‘You still go about imprisoning anyone who takes your fancy, for whatever reason you choose. That’s not very nice of you.’
‘It is necessary. I do not do it from choice.’
‘That is the second time you have said that your life is not your fault. Perhaps someone who is in charge of their own life might be more appealing. To her you are just a rough outlaw. Perhaps a criminal, a liar, a cheat. Maybe cruel and violent. Why would anyone want such a person? However handsome,’ he added.
Pamarchon was looking distressed.
‘Yes, she thinks you handsome. You do not face an impossible task. All is not lost. Far from it. I would say that you could win her, if you wished.’
‘I do! More than anything in the world.’
‘Then you must explain yourself to me. What are you doing living here, like this? Tell me all and I will give my advice. I do not promise anything. Talk to me as if you were talking to her, remembering that she can scent a lie at a great distance. If you can win me over, you may be able to win her over as well.’
‘You want a tale? Very well. You shall have one.’
His guest held up a hand. ‘That’s a bad start. You’re supposed to be talking to a lady you love more than life itself. You shouldn’t sound so grumpy about it. Try again.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I live in the forest because five years ago I was falsely accused of a terrible crime. It was said that I murdered my uncle, Thenald, Lord of Willdon, in order to gain his land and position. It was completely false, but there was nothing I could do; the verdict was swiftly given, and I was to be killed. I escaped, and since then have wandered the land as a vagrant and outlaw. Others have gathered around me, and now I am strong enough to win justice for myself and for the people who place their trust in me. That is why, in a short time, I hope to be able to offer Lady Rosalind everything that a woman of her position would require. In addition, I will add my loyalty and devotion, and if that is in doubt you may query anyone here, for I have helped and nurtured them all.’
‘You speak with defiance. That is not unattractive. Indeed, I am sure that any woman would find it beguiling, even hard to resist. Almost impossible, I would say. Until she considers this: what trust can be put in your words? I imagine this land has courts and laws. You were found guilty in them. Becoming rich is often enough considered a reason for murder. That is in many books I have read. Can you prove you are innocent?’
Pamarchon reached out and took the boy by the hand. ‘I cannot, at present. All I can do at the moment is this,’ he said, coming closer. ‘Hold her hand and swear to her on my life that everything I say is true, that I would die rather than lie to her. I would beg her to trust me, for without her trust life would have no value to me. But are you all right? You are trembling.’
‘I’m... chilly,’ said the boy breathlessly. ‘Just cold, that is all. The night air, you know. Nothing else, I assure you.’
‘In that case, sit nearer the fire. Better now?’
‘Much, thank you,’ he said, swallowing hard. ‘Why don’t you just sit there, further away... further than that... and tell me what happened?’
Pamarchon ensured that the boy was well wrapped up in a blanket, and began once more. ‘Very well. The entire story, if you wish. As I say, my uncle was the Lord of Willdon, who married the Lady Catherine only a little before my troubles began. Until then I was his only heir. I was a happy enough boy, and had been taught by the Lord of Cormell. I finished there at the age of sixteen.’