The smooth-faced Branwood never flinched. He leaned his head on his hand and scratched his close-cropped dark hair.

'And you, Sir Hugh,' he said slowly, 'must realise that I would gain great personal satisfaction from capturing this malefactor. He has murdered my friend Sir Eustace, injured and killed retainers and officials from this castle. He hampers our administration. He has even attacked and pillaged my manor outside Newark on Trent, burning my barns and slaughtering my cattle.' Branwood licked his lips. 'He has brought my name into mockery and continues to harass and revile my office as well as the Crown.' He got up and went to look through one of the arrow-slit windows. 'Just look out there, Sir Hugh.' Corbett rose to join him.

'You see the castle and town walls – and what else?' 'Forest,' replied Corbett.

'Yes,' sighed Branwood. 'Forest! Are you a hunting man, Corbett?' He did not wait for a reply. 'Go in there as I have with mounted men, and within a bowshot of leaving the path you will be in a darkness so dense not even the brightest sun above can diminish it. Chase a deer and you'll find your skills hard pressed. Hunt an outlaw and you finish up hunting death itself.' Branwood walked away from the window. 'In Sherwood, Master Clerk, it is very easy for the hunter to become the hunted.' He rubbed his hands on his dark green gown and re-hitched the sword belt round his slim waist. 'The soldiers you take with you,' he continued, 'cannot be trusted. Some may well be in the pay of Robin Hood.'

He caught the disbelieving expression on Corbett's face.

'Oh, yes, there are sympathisers even here. How else did Robin Hood gain access to murder Eustace Vechey? This God-forsaken town and castle are built on a crag with as many secret tunnels and passageways as you'd find in a rabbit warren.