The Robber's Tale

The Robber's Tale

The village rested at the centre of a gentle valley between three low hills.Yellow flags flew over thatched cottages and the people were busy under the warm afternoon sun. Birds flew overhead and the sound of sheep bleating could be heard.

The stranger paused on the edge of the town. He had not been here before but the town was all too familiar. He had visited many places like this in his long life. However familiar it might seem, he knew he was still out of place. These were not his people.

He had a long and ragged grey cloak with a hood that he could pull up over his head. He wore a rough reddy-brown jacket, and his clothing was strapped together with dark leather bands. A long broadsword hung by his side, but he also had a sharp curved dagger strapped to his leg. His face was bristling with stubble and his hair was dark and straggly. It reached down to his shoulders and made him look wild and dangerous.

He looked again at the countryside around the village. There were huge green fields in which sheep grazed, a small wood and some dark hills. He paused for a moment and nodded to himself. It was a good place. He strode forward and entered the tiny settlement.

The locals were not pleased to see him. They didn't run, but they were clearly nervous and tried to avoid catching his eye. A few of them quietly crossed the road to avoid him.

He knew that he was never a welcome sight. Wherever he went he was a stranger. His homeland was far away, and he was destined never to return.

"Morning," said a round villager as he passed by, leading a small sheep on the end of a rope.

The grey-robed stranger stepped out into the road and stood in front of him. He allowed his hand to hang down by the hilt of his sword, but he smiled pleasantly.

"I think I'll have that sheep thank you."

The villager looked a little taken aback and tried to keep his sheep behind him, almost pretending that it wasn't there.

"I'm sorry sir, but this is my only one," he said nervously. "I've been waiting a long time sir, and I wouldn't want to loose her so soon. You wouldn't take her from me sir, would you."

The stranger placed his hands on his hips and glared at the man. He didn't like it when people made things difficult for him.

The villager looked a little frightened but held his ground - for a couple of seconds. Eventually he gave in, shrugged and offered the end of the rope to the stranger with a sigh.

"I guess I have no choice," he said sadly.

"No, you don't," the stranger replied, but there was no hint of victory in his voice. This was just a job.

He turned and walked back along the road, pulling the sheep behind him. The poor villager was left to stand there watching as they left.

The stranger walked back to the edge of town where a well dressed knight stood waiting. The knight wore a blue cotton tabard over his shiny armour, and flew a blue flag at the end of his staff.

"What took you so long?" the knight asked lazily.

The stranger grunted and passed the sheep over.

"People don't like being robbed," he replied gruffly. "They never rush to give up their hard earned property."

"No," said the knight as he scratched the sheep behind the ears in a distracted manner. His mind was elsewhere.

Finally he turned to the rough looking stranger and handed over a small bag of coins.

"That's your payment in full," he said. "Now you'd better complete your side of the bargain."

"I will," said the robber. "I always do."

He watched as the knight left, pulling the sheep behind him. Another job done. A few more coins made to send back to his family in the desert. He could never return there, but it would always be his home. Everything he did - every crooked deal - was for the people he had left behind. Without him, they would starve - no sheep, no wood, no clay for bricks, no grain for bread, no iron for swords and armour. He might not like the role that fate had given him, but he knew that there were people back home who were counting on him.

He turned his back on the knight and returned to the village.

The locals were less bothered about his presence now that he had selected a victim. They knew that he would not strike again so soon. This did not mean that they wanted him there though, and there were no rooms available at the inn for him to stay in. He turned aside and climbed over a gate, entering the field where sheep were grazing.

He found a good space where he could stand and wait while watching over the village. He stood still with his feet planted firmly in the alien soil of this land. He had been paid to keep vigil here, and so he would.

He missed the feeling of sand between his toes - the warm comfortable dryness of home. This muddy soil could not replace it, and he would not be welcome here even if it could. He was a stranger, wherever he went - an unwanted guest, paid to do the dirty work of others...

A couple of times during that long afternoon, a couple of villagers made their way out of the village and walked up the hill. They would get to the gate of the field before they spotted him there, watching over the sheep. Once or twice, they would even climb the gate and try to get past, but he would cut them off before they got to the sheep.

"No," he said firmly. "This field is closed for now."

The villagers would look crossly at him and turn back. He had a job to do. It wasn't glamorous, but he was being paid to be here. The blue knight didn't want this village to be able to trade its sheep today, and he was determined to carry out his side of the bargain.

He watched and waited all day. The villagers kept an eye on him, but carried on about their business. There were still trees to fell and bricks to bake. He could stop them trading sheep, but the local economy would survive. One man can only do so much.

As the sun began to set, the stranger noticed another figure heading in his direction coming down over the hill. Another knight?

As the figure came closer he could see that this knight wore green - he served a different lord. He watched and waited as the knight drew closer and stopped in front of him.

"Good evening, robber," he said arrogantly. "It is time for you to move. I have work for you."

The man in grey nodded slowly. It was time to move on.

"The usual rate?"

"Of course."

He nodded again.

"Just let me know where you want me to go," he said. "I stand at your command.