Ranulf was disgusted, but short of outright slaughter, there was naught to do but accept their surrender. Yet he was not to be denied the retribution he was here for. Eric had said five of the group that had attacked them on the road had given up and run back into the woods when they saw they were losing the fight. He would have those five for hanging, as well as the leader of this bunch. The rest could be sent to Warhurst.
Ranulf dismounted and signaled Master Scot to tell him what he wanted. He did not have long to wait, but the brawny master-at-arms returned with only one man. Square jaw smooth, mustache neatly trimmed, brown hair even shorter than Ranulf’s, he was not what one might imagine an outlaw to look like. There was nothing even to indicate he lived out-of-doors. He was not filthy. His clothes were in decent repair. And if he had moments before been crying for mercy with the rest of them, there was no fear in his gaze now, which was entirely too direct.
“Claims to be their leader,” Master Scot said, though Ranulf had already come to that conclusion.
“Know you who I am?” he asked the outlaw.
“I make it my business to know all my neighbors and what they are about, Lord Fitz Hugh, new and old.”
“That would indicate you have some intelligence, yet if that were so, you would have watched and waited until you learned my mettle ere you attacked me or mine,” Ranulf replied harshly.
“So I did. I had men watching Clydon and both roads to its gates. The men who attacked those wearing your colors were not mine. They had followed your men whence they came and waited until they were well inside the wood to set upon them.”
“Followed with horses, but attacked without?” Ranulf scoffed, then added in a lower, more menacing tone: “Do not think you can weave fanciful tales to color yourself guiltless. You know not where my men come from or you would not try to place the blame there.”
“They came from the narrow track that allows anyone from Keigh Manor to reach either Warhurst or Clydon without going leagues out of the way taking the western road, both your men and those who followed them. I know that much, for one of my men was hunting in that area and saw them coming out of the track. Whether your men had been to Keigh Manor or beyond that, as you say, I do not know. But the woods road does not travel a straight line, Lord Fitz Hugh. It turns this way and that to avoid the older trees in its path. According to my man, those who followed kept well inside the tree line, and when the sharpest curve in the road was reached, they cut a straight path through it to come out ahead of your men, left their horses concealed in the bush, and ran to intercept them. ’Tis unreasonable, as you bethought, to attack without horses, especially against mounted riders, unless you want someone else blamed for the deed, someone known not to possess horses.”
“Yourselves?”
“I see you are still doubtful, but common sense would have arranged a better ambush. There are several points along the road where trees overhang and the foliage is thick. I would have placed my men there, on both sides of the road, even along the tree limbs above, to come at my target from all sides for a quick end to it, and assured success. But ask your men and they will tell you it happened much differently. They could have easily turned about and ridden away instead of fighting.”
“John!” Ranulf bellowed.
The man-at-arms who had ridden with Walter yesterday was near enough that Ranulf did not have to ask the question. “’Tis true, my lord. They came all at once at a run and from only one side of the road, giving enough warning that we could indeed have ridden on in either direction to avoid them. Now that I think on it, ’twas not well done for men supposedly adept at robbery.”
“Where is the Clydon man?” Ranulf called out.
“Here, my lord.”
“Algar, is it not?” At a nod, Ranulf asked, “What think you of this brigand’s story?”
“’Tis true enough, what he says of his methods. All the robberies we have heard tell of, the victims claim the outlaws surrounded them in moments, even falling from the sky. They rarely have time to draw a weapon, yet we had time and plenty to do so.”
“Could you have been followed from Keigh Manor and not know it?”
“Aye,” Algar admitted, if a bit reluctantly. “Truth is, we were none of us paying overmuch attention to the road. We were laughing so much we were not like to have heard anyone following behind either.”
“Explain yourself.”
“Sir Searle had seemed well and truly taken by the widow, and your other two knights were wont to rib him about it, especially since she did not return his interest.”
Ranulf had not thought to ask ere this how they had been received at Keigh Manor. Their reason for going there had been forgotten in light of the outlaws’ attack—if it had been the outlaws who had attacked.
“How was Lady de Burgh otherwise?”
“Now you mention it, my lord, I remarked to Wat, God assoil him, that the lady seemed different from when last we saw her at Clydon.”
“How so?”
“She was courteous enough, but her manner was right chilly. Her being a woman in need of a husband, you would think she would welcome three handsome knights with gladness, but she was more glad to see them depart.”
“Was she told why you were there?”
“Sir Searle might have told her. As I said, he was fast smitten.”
“Did he insult the lady?”
“With declarations of undying love?”
