“I am Lord William de Wendenal, and I parlay for the Sheriff.” Guy flinched at the implication. Wendenal was the son of a marcher lord in Derby, and should have no grounds to speak for the Sheriff. Guy began to compose a library of grievances to pound at de Lacy’s door when he returned.

John Little smiled darkly at Wendenal. “I remember you.”

“The Sheriff does not wish to aggravate you, but instead to find some common ground.”

Little grunted. “The spirits in this hall may disagree.”

“An unfortunate coincidence.” Wendenal lowered his head in respect. “Perhaps we can give them some peace.”

John seemed to accept the answer, or at least to pretend to. “What does he propose?”

“You will not be persecuted for your crimes of thievery against the King, provided that you return what you can of the weapons and supplies belonging to the King’s armies, and will refrain from interfering with future shipments. He is eager to make arrangements to bring your people back to fealty, under conditions you both consider fair. It is in everyone’s best interest for you to live productive and healthy lives, so long as you abide by the King’s laws. Agree to these terms, and all else is forgiven.”

“All else is forgiven?” shouted out one of the thieves.

“Oh, all we have to do is hand over our weapons?” mocked another. “And you promise not to arrest us? We’ve seen what the Sheriff’s word is worth.” He spat on the ground. They had no idea how insanely lenient this offer was.

“What the hell do you forgive us for, anyhow?” asked the young one. “Maybe instead, we take these very weapons you’re asking for and watch you bolt for the hills again.”

“There’s a slight problem with your plan, Wendenal.” John Little eased his staff from hand to hand. “Most of the weapons have long been sold off. Some are still ours, aye. But if they weren’t, I don’t think your boys would have stopped at that door. The rest bought us soup and bread. Should we open our bellies up? We could give it back to you, but you may not like what’s become of it.”

The gallery laughed at this.

“If you don’t accept the offer, then the Sheriff’s peace is off.” Guy eyed Wendenal, who reluctantly confirmed. “Which means you will each return with me to Nottingham. Whether on your own two legs or not.”

It was taken as a challenge. “How are your legs, boys?”

“I think I’ll be walking fine,” another snarled. “Arthur?”

“Let’s dance.”

Damnation. The thieves poised at readiness. They did not move yet, but the young one slid two knives out.