Robert watched the procession of soldiers march into Nottingham along the main road. The ranks were orderly consisting of three files of men stepping in rhythm. Two bannermen at the front carried the banners of Sir Guy de Grisbourne and the standard of King John of England. Two drummers at the back of the troops kept the marching cadence crisp and steady. The baggage train consisted of four teams of oxen each pulling a sizable wagon.
“How many will be sleeping on the green tonight?” Robert asked David.
“Around sixty. The drivers will be able to sleep in the wagons according to Pierre and there are enough tents in their luggage to support those not assigned barracks yet.”
“Good, good. We need to make sure that they are situated in at least groups of five or six. Keep them together as much as possible and they won’t have time or inclination to bond with any of the townsfolk.”
“We have the fallow on Barstow’s farm that we can use, he has offered his well and barn for the troops.”
“No, let’s keep them from the farmers if we can. Farmers can let slip that they have never seen any signs of bandits in the woods. Let’s keep them in town where rumors work better.”
David left the office and went out to the troops marching into the center of the town. There he would meet Pierre and organize the billeting of the soldiers and arrange for their provisions and comfort.
Robert needed to go over to the Falwort’s inn and make sure that beer and food was ready for the welcoming feast tonight. He had been able to convince the town council that a celebration at their arrival would help ensure good relations between the town and the French soldiers. Captain Carver had been a surprising voice of support for the idea, and as far as Robert knew it might actually be true. But he was just hoping that a party tonight might mean a later start for the French troops tomorrow, and his men needed every hour he could give them.
The door to his office opened as he was considering what had to be done.
“Sheriff, we finally have the rest of the rope. The men are making the last of the ladders as we speak and we should be able to get several more sections of platforms up in the woods.”
“Good Jack, that unburdens my mind quite a bit. Will you be able to get done in time for the celebration tonight?”
“I think so,” responded the deputy. “But do you think that is entirely wise?”
“What do you mean?”
“If we are all at the celebration, don’t you think that Sir Guy will wonder how serious we are about catching the bandits? Shouldn’t we have men in the woods looking all the time?”
Robert turned and looked at Jack. Neither of his deputies were educated men, and yet they had the raw intelligence that could easily have been tempered into a sharp mind. The little education Robert had received would have paled in comparison to what a nobleman had, and yet Robert felt he matched well to any noble he had ever met. The longer Robert lived the more he realized that education and status were unlikely to convert a simpleton into a man with a sharp mind. And some of the most humble and uneducated men that Robert had ever run across made him feel like a fool when they easily saw a path through a complicated situation.
“Hold back six of the men. They and the four rangers we have traveling should be enough to convince Sir Guy of how serious we are. An excellent idea Jack.”
Jack nodded to Robert and left the office. The sheriff watched as his deputy slipped out of the town and back into the woods where the men were building more of the platforms.
Robert gathered his hat and headed towards the inn. The coach of Earl Locksley was sitting near the stables and the horses were being unhitched by the groomsmen. Robert was happy to see that the earl had decided to come into town and quickened his pace to see his friend and mentor. When he entered the inn, he was surprised to see Lillian, Lady Marian’s maid.
