Outlaw by Michael Morpurgo Page B

was led at once into the great hall of the castle, and there before her stood the sheriff withSir Guy of Gisbourne beside him. She ran towards them and fell on her knees, her hands together in supplication. “My Lord Sheriff, you have my son.” And she pulled back her wimple to show her face. “You know me, my Lord Sheriff.”
    “Robin Hood’s woman,” breathed the sheriff.
    “As you say, Robin Hood’s woman; but no longer. I will give you his head, my Lord, in exchange for my son.”
    “It’s a trick,” Sir Guy of Gisbourne scoffed, drawing his sword. But the sheriff held him back.
    “Maybe,” said the sheriff, walking around Marion as she knelt, her eyes pleading. “And maybe not. The disguise? Why the disguise?”
    “I am a cagot, an albino, as you see, my Lord. I am an Outlaw. Could I have got even through the city gates without a disguise?”
    “True enough,” said the sheriff.
    “And I suppose,” sneered Sir Guy of Gisbourne, “I suppose you will lead us to him, no doubt deep in Sherwood so that we shall be ambushed. What do you imagine we are, imbeciles?”
    “No, my Lord,” said Marion, and she drew from under her habit the silver arrow. “You know this arrow, I think. I have only to wave it and he is yours. He waits for me by the burnt-out mill, in open country, my Lord. And he waits alone. But he will not show himself until he sees me with the child. The silver arrow is a signal. I wave it above my head and he knows all is well, that I have rescued the child and brought him out safely. All you have to do is follow me, at a safe distance and unseen, and he is yours to do with what you will. I will have my only son and you will have Robin Hood.”
    “A trick, I tell you,” cried Sir Guy of Gisbourne. “A trick.”
    “Sometimes, Guy,” said the sheriff scornfully, “sometimes I think you are a very stupid man. You send my sister into Sherwood to bring out the child so that Robin Hood would come after him. She does it. We have the child. So Robin Hood may not have come himself as you thought he would, but his woman has. And the result will be the same – Robin Hood’s head. Do you know how strong is a woman’s love for her child? No, she would do nothing to risk her son’s life. She would do anything to save him, anything. Look at her. Take my word for it, she will lead us to him. Have no doubt of it, for she knows what will happen to the child if she does not.”
    “She will lead us into a trap,” Sir Guy roared. “I know she will. I see in those scheming red eyes nothing of motherly love, but only revenge and hate.”
    “Bring me the child,” the sheriff called out. “And have three hundred men ready, armed and on foot at the south gate.” He smiled at Sir Guy. “You forget, Guy, that the corn is high in the fields. I shall hide my men in the corn. No one will see them. She will ride ahead with her son, wave the silver arrow and we will wait. If he comes, we shall kill him. If he does not, then we shall know it is a trick and we shall kill her and the child. What have we to lose?”
    At this moment the door opened and the Abbess of Kirkleigh came into the room carrying little Martin in her arms, Alan Wicken alongside her. She listened in silence, her eyes fixed on Marion and dark with suspicion, as the sheriff told her how at last they would capture Robin Hood, how they would be led to him by his own woman. “Brother,” she said, “do not do it. Do not give the child tothis woman. I know her. She loves Robin Hood better than life itself.”
    “And maybe she loves her son more,” retorted the sheriff. “What do you know of a woman’s love? What do you know of a mother’s love?”
    “Listen to the abbess, my Lord,” said Alan Wicken. “She is right. I have seen the love in Marion’s eyes. She would never betray him, not in a million years.”
    “Do you think I haven’t thought of all this?” stormed the sheriff, snatching the child away and handing him to Marion.