Lady Locksley

Chapter 9

Allan A Dale

Allan A Dale had never dreamed of becoming an outlaw. As a young child, born to a blacksmith father and a seamstress mother in Ruislip, a small village on the outskirts of London, Allan had secretly fantasised about becoming a troubadour, travelling from village to village with romantic songs of love and adventure. But the idea had soon dwindled away to be replaced by cynicism and disappointment.
As the oldest son, it was expected that he would learn the family trade, but Allan could think of nothing worse than following in his father's footsteps. Henry A Dale was a drunk and a womaniser. Although highly regarded as a singular blacksmith in the area, quick and efficient at his job, and jovial with his patrons, it was a different matter behind closed doors. Henry was mean, and took his frustrations out on his family.
Portraying an affable and helpful character in public only added to his frustrations, and he was often bad-tempered in private, and quick with his fists.
His long-suffering wife, Daisy, was protective of Allan and his younger brother, Tom, but it soon became too much for her. When Allan was nine, she went out to buy milk and eggs, and never returned.
Henry was furious, and chased his sorrows into the bottom of a tankard. Drunk from morning to night, he quickly lost the confidence of his clientele, and, instead of working, spent his days in the local tavern, and his nights in the bed of whichever whore would take him. He all but forgot about his two sons, apart from when he needed someone to take his anger out on.
Left largely to their own devices, and often hungry, the boys were forced into a life of petty crime. His dreams of a musical future long since forgotten, Allan became an expert pickpocket and cut-purse on the streets of London, and grew adept at talking his way in and out of all kinds of unsavoury situations. Having learnt the hard way that he couldn't rely on anyone else, he developed a knack for looking out for number one, and for taking what he needed from others whether they liked it or not.
He and Tom became quite the double act, but their relationship was marred by squabbles and rivalry. Gradually, as the brothers continued their unlawful activities, they were forced to travel north, burning a multitude of bridges behind them, and in 1192, Allan found himself in Nottingham after a spat with Tom, who, as a result, had stolen his horse and his money and disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the clothes on his back and, luckily, his bow and arrows.
He hadn't been looking to join a gang; in fact, he had been quite happy to continue his career of petty theft and trickery, dodging from con to con, belonging nowhere and everywhere. That was until he was caught poaching by the sheriff's guards near Locksley and sentenced to death by hanging.
Sat in Nottingham Castle dungeons with three other local men who had been caught thieving, Allan had had time to ruminate on his mistakes. Obviously, the biggest mistake had been getting caught, but this error in his judgement was overshadowed by the more important issue of his impending death. He didn't want to die. He was far too young, and there were still so many things that he hadn't done.
For someone who had spent the majority of his recent years in blissful ignorance to the feelings of others, Allan began to regret some of the decisions he had made; in particular, not having stayed in Coxdale and continued in the family business. Blacksmithing was a worthy trade, and in much demand. Instead, he had become a criminal, and was now about to hang.
Not being the most self-aware of people, Allan was unused to such feelings, yet found himself wishing he could go back in time and make different choices. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option; instead, he attempted to make the most of the remaining hours of his life.
An attractive man with chestnut hair, expressive blue eyes, and a cheeky grin, Allan had previously got through life by promoting his greatest assets - his looks and his wit. But the guards at Nottingham Castle were having none of it. Death was inevitable.
That was, until Robin of Locksley came along.
Allan was under no illusions - he owed Robin his life. If he hadn't saved them all that day in the castle, then Allan would be, well, dead. He would always be grateful, and this was why he had decided to stick around and join Robin's gang of outlaws.
Allan admired Robin immensely. At times, although he would never admit it, he watched him covertly, and envied his easy authority. Robin had the ability to effortlessly inspire faith and commitment in the people around him, and the outlaws trusted him implicitly. He motivated them and they followed his lead enthusiastically and with pride.
Allan didn't know how he did it. A nobleman with a huge house and land, Robin had returned from the Holy Land to find Nottingham in turmoil, and his rightful place as Lord of Locksley stolen from him. Outlawed by the Sheriff, he had taken to the forest with thieves and criminals, yet he never once complained. He accepted whatever life threw at him, and dealt with it accordingly. If living in the forest was something he had to do, then he would make the most of it. If hiding in dark corners and fighting for justice with a price on his head was what was required of him, then he would embrace it with both arms, and encourage his gang to do the same. To exchange a refined lifestyle, a home, and a comfortable bed for a campsite in woodland without complaint was something to be applauded.
But, what Robin lacked in materialistic fripperies, he made up for in other, better things, of which he had in abundance. People adored him. They looked up to him, and they trusted him. If they were in trouble, they came to Robin, because they knew that he would help them to the best of his abilities. And he did, with flair. He was nothing if not a showman, and he pulled it all off with aplomb.
Allan loved him; he loved all of the gang. They were his family, and he would do anything for them. But, on his darker day, he couldn't help but feel a degree of jealousy and resentment.
Allan would have liked to experience some of the glory once in a while, instead of being just one of Robin's men. He would have liked to be adored, and for people to look up to him and worship at his feet. Not all the time, but every now and again.
And sometimes, even though he would never admit it, Allan would also have liked to get the girl.
Allan had never lacked female attention. Living in the forest as an outlaw did little to impede his sex life, and there was always a comely wench in one of the villages to slake his thirst. Secretly, however, these physical encounters often left him feeling a tad disappointed, and he wasn't sure why. As a result, he rarely went back for seconds. He envied Robin's love for Marian. It was all-encompassing and pure, and Allan had personally never experienced that. This had been one of his main regrets as he had sat in Nottingham Castle's dungeon all those months ago, waiting to die.
Sometimes, he wished he had that kind of relationship. He felt that he was missing out in some way, but, when he looked round at the rest of the gang, he wondered if he should. Nobody else seemed concerned; they threw themselves into outlaw life fully. Little John had turned his back on his family to remain with Robin. Djaq was far from home, yet didn't express any complaints. Plus, she and Will were clearly growing closer as each day passed. And as for Much - well, Much was too devoted to Robin to care about getting married and the like.
Not that Allan was ready to get married. But it would be nice to have something and somebody to come home to one day. A house and land to call his own. For people to look up to him as a hero, rather than just a member of Robin's gang. And to have some money in his pocket that wasn't immediately handed out to the poor.
It was because of this that Allan found himself in the Trip to Jerusalem Inn one Tuesday afternoon in May, with a few tricks up his sleeve and the full intention of earning ill-gotten gains. And it was because of this that, after an hour or so of success, he was captured by Guy of Gisborne and thrown into the castle dungeons. Again.