Outlaw by Michael Morpurgo

endless wrestling matches and archery competitions – which he was careful not to win too often. There were mock battles, mock ambushes. The weeks passed and the weeks passed and they searched the villages far and wide, but still they could not findthe man they wanted. Like everyone else, Robin yearned for action. Marion did what she could to persuade him to be patient. “Bide your time, Robin,” she would tell him. “Why rush into danger? Let’s just live while we can and be happy. He’ll turn up sooner or later, you’ll see.”
    And she was right. They did find a smith, or rather he found them.
    Robin was fishing for sea trout. It was the first run of the year and they were rising everywhere, but difficult to catch. Much was with him as he always was, and Friar Tuck as well. It was a warm summer’s day and the storm flies were low over the water. Tuck was squatting down at the river’s edge busy gutting a sea trout for their lunch, when someone called out to them across the river.
    “A fine fish.” The voice was as big as the man. “I shall have that for my lunch, I think.”
    “I don’t think you will,” replied Friar Tuck.
    “Tell you what, friar,” said the russet-bearded giant, walking towards the bridge. “You meet me on this bridge. And if I topple you into the river, then I can have your fish. How’s that?”
    Friar Tuck snorted with laughter. “By God’s good grace, I’ll do the toppling, my friend, not you.” And he drew his sword.
    “One arrow past his nose would send him packing,” said Robin, reaching for his bow.
    “Waste of a good arrow. Just look a him,” Tuck scoffed. “He’s a beggar of a fellow, dressed in nothing but rags. He doesn’t look as if he’s eaten in a week. And he’s carrying nothing but a staff. Don’t you worry, Robin, I’ll soon fix him.”
    Robin and Much looked on as the two men met on the bridge in the middle of the river. “You strike first, friar,” said the stranger. And Friar Tuck swungup his great sword and struck. Again and again he struck, but the staff was always there blocking the blow. He whirled his sword high above his head, thinking to cut the staff in two. The next moment his sword was sent flying into the water and he found himself defenceless. The stranger smiled, and then thrust the end of his staff deep into Tuck’s belly. Bent double, all the wind driven out of him, Tuck staggered towards the edge of the bridge and the stranger’s boot helped topple him over the side and into the river.
    With a roar like a bear, Much charged on to the bridge. “To get our fish,” he cried, “you’ll have to pass me first.”
    “But you have no weapon,” said the stranger.
    “I need none,” replied Much, and he lunged forward to grab the staff. The man stepped nimbly sideways as Much came at him, and simply proddedhim into the river. At once Robin was on the bridge, an arrow strung to his bow and aimed at the man’s heart.
    “Move just one step and I shall kill you.”
    The stranger sighed and shook his head sadly. “Is there no one in good King Richard’s land who will give a poor fellow a meal?” he said. “Everywhere I go I tell them I fought alongside the king in the Holy Land, and what do they do but curse me and drive me out? Richard is dead, they say, and Prince John as good as king in his place. It’s not true, I tell them. Richard is not dead. He is held prisoner in Austria, and why? Because his brother John will not pay the ransom for his release. They don’t believe me. They think I’m mad and they beat me black and blue. I have had enough. So shoot on, fine fellow. Your arrow holds no fear for me.”
    Robin lowered his bow. “You’ve given my friendsa good soaking,” he laughed, “but anyone who is a friend of King Richard is our friend too. Come across and we’ll eat the fish together.”
    As the fish cooked slowly over the fire, the stranger could scarcely take his eyes from it. When it was ready, he ate it head to