“Did you hear that, Alan?” came a sharp new voice from the woods. “We’re amongst royalty!”

A shape that a second ago had been a tree moved silently sideways in a decidedly untreelike manner. William’s hand twitched for the sword that was not on his belt. The shape was a boy, or a man, a short boy-man dressed in browns and high black boots, with a cloud of arrogant golden hair, a thick belt, and an offensive grin. Robin’s back was to the stranger, but his eyes locked onto something else behind William.

“I didn’t realize we had more than one king,” said the something else behind William, whose name was very likely Alan. The manboy was unarmed and all smiles, but his eyes were shrewd. It was easy to forget that dangerous men were found all the world over, and William kicked himself for letting his guard down. Undoubtedly a third man had their horses.

“Oh, didn’t I mention that I’m a king?” asked the manboy, talking to Alan but slowly circling the rock Robin sat upon.

“You know, you may have, but I couldn’t hear you over my own kingliness.”

Alan’s voice was traveling as well, balancing the blond’s movements. They knew what they were doing.

William adjusted as they moved. “I would advise against sneaking up on members of the king’s personal guard unannounced.”

“Unless you have a reason for this interruption,” Robin casually picked up his boot, “I’d suggest you move along, gentlemen.”

A chortle came from Alan, still unseen. “The king’s personal guard?”

“Which king?”

“Me or him?”

“King Richard the Lionheart.” William’s tone was all steel, but these two boys didn’t seem to be intimidated by authority.

“Lionhard? Never heard of him,” the manboy scoffed.

“I thought the king’s name was Henry?” Could be they were simply a couple lads having fun with some travelers. Or could be they meant to take everything William and Robin had, which included letters from King Richard granting immunity to its bearer.

They had made a half circle around now, enough that William and Robin traded which one they watched. Alan had a lean, long face and darker olive skin, a young man but without his friend’s boylike charm. A brown surcoat over a dirty ivory woolen smock, its hood still draped over his head, the color of the birch trees behind him. A heavy broadsword rode unsheathed in his belt, too heavy for a man of his stature.

“Henry, yes that sounds right! He’s the one with his face on all those pretty little pieces of gold we’ve been finding, isn’t it?”

Their circle had tightened, but they were still too far away to make a surprise rush.

Robin smiled and laughed. “Pretty little pieces of gold you’ve been finding? Why, we must have missed that part of the forest. Your luck is extraordinary!”