The moon had sunk below the horizon as the night passed into its final hours. Above the township of Elmstead, a dark shape drifted silently through the sky, with keen eyes piercing the inky black of the night and searching out the streets and alleys below.

There, right there was a nice sheltered spot quite close to the town gates. The dark shape dove and circled stealthily to the ground, and the Bird entered the streets of Elmstead.

As the Bird was just grazing the cobbles he gingerly deposited a sack which he had been clutching in his claws, which tumbled lightly onto the street and rolled to a stop on the ground as The Bird himself landed a few paces ahead.

The Bird looked furtively around him as the sack twitched and jostled for a moment before a furry red snout poked out of its opening and sniffed the air. Then the Fox stepped out, shaking the sack off his tail behind him.

The town of Elmstead was hardly a place of great importance, but it was nonetheless defended. A high wall of stout wooden timbers enclosed it on all sides and possessed only two gates, each flanked by fortified wooden towers. For two nights straight, the Fox and the Bird had paid nightly visits to the neighborhood near one of these gates, and by now they knew the area well. The two wightbeasts made their way stealthily now to the gate. Up in the tower there was a double guard of watchmen, but the two animals knew how to approach the place from just the right angle with which to stay out of sight. In three quarters of an hour the next watch would begin, by which time the intruders would be finished with their work.

They were near the gate now, which consisted of a pair of stout wooden doors with a great bolt shot across them which was held in place with a padlock. Fortunately, the two burglars didn’t plan to bother with the gate for the moment.

Several yards further down the wall they stopped at a prearranged location. With a furtive look about him, the Bird flew to the top of the wall and disappeared on the other side while the Fox kept watch from the street. An uncomfortable wait then followed, which felt a bit longer perhaps than it ought to have. But soon enough the Bird reappeared over the wall, this time carrying a stout rope in his beak. Glancing about him again, the Bird then tied the end of the rope down on a convenient place on the scaffolding, and then disappeared back over the wall again. In a moment any slackness in the rope was gone as it was pulled taut over the wall, and shortly after that the head of a Wog appeared over the top of the wall, climbing the rope. The first Wog was then followed by two more. Last came the Bird, fluttering up onto the wall and bringing the other end of the rope with him. In a few moments the rope was coiled up and stowed away, leaving no trace of the intruder's presence. Then, Wog and Fox slipped into the city and headed to a place which had been prepared in advance as behind them the Bird soared away into the night sky.

Hours went by. Then bit by bit a faint amber glow spread across the horizon, followed by the blood red band of dawn.

In the wooden tower above the town gate, a pair of watchman stood wearily in the waxing light. The town guard had been obliged to serve double and triple shifts for many days, and the strain was beginning to be felt even as the possibility of action drew inexorably closer. Gurth’s men had been occupying the granary for over a fortnight now, and there they remained. Fortunately (so far as the town council was concerned, at any rate), Gurth’s forces were spread so thin while they marauded the countryside that the defense of the town itself had by necessity to be left up to the locals . Being wary of a popular insurrection, Gurth had ordered that the militia be disbanded. But the regular watchmen themselves were retained and were being worked to exhaustion.

Suddenly, one of the watchmen shook his drowsy companion and pointed out towards the road.

Before them the rolling green downs were bathed in the cool grey light. On the town walls the wind rippled through the bright banners of the town, carrying on its breeze the faint snatchs of mens voices raised in song. It was an old folk song, a sentimental ballad known to everyone. But its rhythm was somehow different, as if it were being sung to a steady cadence of marching feet. Coming now down the road from the direction of Tresham was a dark column. Nearly three hundred men marched together in step (or more or less in step anyway), led by a small detachment of horsemen. The singing grew louder as the army approached, and the men could be seen clearly. They were peasants mostly, many of them armed with makeshift weapons, while a few were yeomen who were well armed and equipped. They had a motley appearance overall, yet they sang and marched together grimly in a barely sustained unison which was terrifying to behold, like a wild animal on a leash. A shout rose up from the tower as one watchman called to the men in the next tower while the other pressed his lips to a horn and let forth an asthmatic blast of alarm.

For Robin Goodfellow and his army were marching on Elmstead.

The watchmen were still blowing frantically on their horns as the hostile column halted before the gates. At its head were several horseman, armed and equipped with the best gear of the army and bearing the most soldierly deportment. And carried above them was a banner, the livery of Gurth insolently inverted and trimmed with dazzling gold feathers. Now the lead horseman stepped forward, and called up to the guardsmen in the tower.

“Here me now, men of Elmstead. I am Robin Goodfellow, and the gates of this town shall open for me.”

Suddenly there was a sharp clack of a great bolt being shot, and beneath the astonished guards in the towers the gates of Elmstead creaked and opened at Robin Goodfellow’s command.

The army marched in an orderly fashion through the gates and into the streets of the town as the gates were held open by the three Wogs, who grinned insolently as they slouched against the doors while one of them twiddled with a set of skeleton keys. The column proceeded down the winding streets of the town, singing again as they went. Shutters were now being opened around them as the townsfolk looked down in anxious surprise at the events unfolding before them. The town watch, armed and awakened by the alarm coming from the gates, were converging on the scene only to stop in their tracks before tens of scores of armed men, and they allowed the army to pass by unopposed.

The army marched clear to the town square, where it halted just outside. To one side of the square was the great hall of the town, but on the other was the Granary, where Gurth’s men were now scrambling to assemble behind their barricades. Word was then passed to the watchmen and townsfolk nearby that Robin Goodfellow demanded to address the town council. Messengers then went round to the homes of the councilmen, rousing those who had not yet been awakened by the commotion which was quickly taking grip of the whole community. Barely half an hour later the council were gathered in the square, and Robin Goodfellow issued his ultimatum: The town would be spared and its folk left unmolested, but the council would swear loyalty to Robin Goodfellow and support him in the occupation of the town and seizure the granary from the forces of Gurth.

The councilmen briefly deliberated among themselves in the street, but their decision was forgone as they looked about at the grim and volatile men around them. The town watch was already vastly outnumbered, and it was too late for the militia to be called, even if the townsfolk had been inclined to support Gurth. And besides, they could always swear (quite truthfully) to the king that their cooperation had been coerced. Their agreement was unanimous, and there upon the cobbles they swore their fealty to Robin Goodfellow.

Now the army of Robin Goodfellow occupied the square, and made their way to the granary. Gurth’s men were ready for them now, but Hae-jin had judged it better to ensure the cooperation of the townsfolk first before doing battle. It took nearly three hours to capture the granary, as Hae-jin cautiously directed his forces against the small band of men making their stand there. Numbers were on his side, but Hae-jin knew the morale of his army could prove fragile, and he was not prepared to take unnecessary losses. Not yet. When it was all over Gurth’s men were slain to a man, the very last of them taken with Hae-jin’s own hand in the final assault. The wrath of the peasants was thus unleashed and expended on the servants of Gurth, while the townsfolk were completely spared in fulfillment of Robin Goodfellow’s promise. Not even so much as a fallen coin was taken by the invaders.

With the conquest of the township complete, Hae-jin moved his headquarters yet again, and began to direct his newly expanded empire from the town hall of Elmstead. With the Bishop’s granary in his possession, Hae-jin now began to distribute a fresh injection of food to both his army as well as further afield across the countryside to anyone who would pledge their loyalty to Robin Goodfellow. In this way, the ravages of Gurth became oddly mirrored and reversed. The men of Robin Goodfellow now roved the countryside in their turn, seizing food, arms and treasure from wherever it was in the possession of Gurth and his men, and redistributing it at Hae-jin’s direction. Rarely was food withheld from those who plead for it, but never was it given liberally without a pledge of loyalty. For Hae-jin believed that mercy must be the servant of necessity. Success depended on the people flocking to his cause in overwhelming numbers, and then remaining faithful to that cause. Food was offered to all, but to take food from Robin Goodfellow was to become a party to his rebellion, and all who ate at the table of the outlaw would be obliged to defend that table in order to preserve his own skin. And thus far Hae-jin’s plan seemed to be working, for every day that followed more and more people poured into Elmstead to swell the ranks of his army, and even whole villages began to pledge themselves to Robin Goodfellow.

Word too came in from further afield across the kingdom. Far and wide men had heard of the successes of Robin Goodfellow, and many sought to join the revolt. Some were making their way to Elmstead, but others began engaging in banditry and pillaging, looting freely and slaying whomever they were inclined to. Hae-jin’s worst fears were already being realized, and it was all he could do to keep his own army from descending to the same levels of villainy. Above all else, Hae-jin did everything to ensure his army remained in discipline, directing their violence and avarice towards the forces of Gurth alone while leaving all else untouched. It was imperative that Robin Goodfellow be a fulcrum of order if the greater powers of the land were ever to take part with him against Gurth. For Hae-jin knew he could never win. Not on his own.

Hae-jin had seen his own men in action many times now, and their limits were quickly becoming apparent. Many were content to be idle and remain carousing in the towns and villages while they feasted on the dole of Robin Goodfellow. Others looked greedily on the plunder which was to be had all around them, chafing and grumbling that they were not allowed to take their fill in pillage. It was only a matter of time before the peasants could be contained no longer, and would either disperse or mutiny. And even those who were faithful were often poor fighters. Those among the yeomen who were trained or experienced as soldiers performed well, but the serfs seemed to remain miserable no matter how hard Hae-jin dared drill them, and they usually held back and allowed the yeomen to do most of the fighting.

Meanwhile, Robin Goodfellow’s enemies had not remained idle. The unopposed capture of Elmstead seemed to have taken Gurth by surprise, but now he was springing back. His patrols moved with greater cunning and in larger numbers, deftly avoiding conflict where they could and striking back ferociously when attacked, while elsewhere others of his men were gathering from all parts of the land and were assembling near the city of Larchester. And far away in the capital, the King was at last taking action.

The situation with Gurth had left the royal court in a political paralysis. Discord was spreading among the nobility as the King wrestled to resist the ultimatums of Gurth while seeking vainly for support among the peers of the land, who were themselves boiling over with long years of discontent of their own. But after nearly three weeks of indecision and impasse, the King had at last assembled an army and had departed the capital. And according to rumor, the King was headed to Larchester to join with the men of Gurth. And from there, the combined forces of Gurth and the King would surely come next to Elmstead.

It was several days after the capture of the town, and Hae-jin was ensconced at the town hall from which he commanded his army and held a kind of de-facto court. A great table was set at the threshold where Hae-jin and his officers now sat and held their daily conference. A sheet of linen had been laid across the table and painted with a crude map of the area, while all around were rolls of parchment containing lists, inventories, reports, and all manner of clerical flotsam that comes with a properly managed army.

Suddenly there was a beating of wings and the Bird descended onto the table, nearly upsetting it as he did so.

“Hae-jin! I have news!”

“Good, we’ve been waiting for your report for a while now….is something wrong?”

“I fear it may be so. An army is approaching the town. I reckon it’s easily four or five thousand strong, and they are perhaps half a day’s march away.

A chilled silence took hold of the table. Everyone had known this was coming, but up to now their information had suggested that the King was still many days away. Now, here was an army almost upon them.

Sykes piped up now.

“Well, who’s army is it? Gurth? The King? The Bishop? Did you see any banners or livery?”

“They bore many banners with them.”

“Well, what did they look like! Did any of them particularly stand out?”

The Bird thought for a moment.

“I remember one that was carried in several places. It was a blue and yellow check with a vertical white band in the middle bearing three black stars.”

Sykes looked sharply at Hae-jin, and odd gleam in his eye.

“That’s the arms of the Earl of Wickhowe.”

“And who is the Earl of Wickhowe?”

“Only one of the largest landowners in the kingdom, and among the nobility he is the king’s greatest nemesis. Tell me Bird, how many other banners did you see? Describe as many of them as you can remember!”

“Goodness, I don’t know. There was a yellow one with three red boars on it.”

“That’ll be the Earl of Swinstoke.”

“Then there one that was half white and half blue with six oak leaves on it”

“That’s the Earl of Donnock.”

“There must have been at least a dozen more, do you really expect me to remember all of them?”

“Yes!”

“Well I can’t.”

“Then go back and look again! Look for a banner with two gold leopards on a blue field bordered with red and white. Those are the king’s arms. If the king’s there then his banner will be displayed. If he’s not, then that will be very interesting indeed. Hurry, and get back as quick as you can!”

The Bird looked imploringly at Hae-jin, but Hae-jin merely nodded.

“I agree with Sykes. Go back and find out as much as you can.”

The Bird took off and Hae-jin turned to Sykes.

“You’ve got an idea, Sykes. What are you thinking?”

Sykes pursed his lips thoughtfully, an excited light still in his eye.

“It seems almost too much to hope for, but honestly I think it’s well within the realm of possibility. Over the last few days our ranks have swelled to well over eight hundred, but that’ll never be enough to face both Gurth and the King.”

“We all know that. You think that the army that’s approaching is not from the King?”

“It’s possible. The nobles aren’t particularly happy with the King, and haven’t been for a long time. I served as a bowman under Simon the Second back during the wars with the Tollards, and taxes were heavy in those days in order to finance the war. Then the curse came, and we lost the war. Now we pay tribute to the Tollards and things are even worse. Taxes are still heavy and the landowners constantly lose workers to the Due of Gurth. Simon was a gallant man in his youth, but by the time he died eight years ago he was despised by nearly everyone. He was succeeded by his nephew William of Bradlaw, who is now William the Fourth. William may have merely inherited the mess left behind by his uncle, but that hasn’t saved him from being any less unpopular. Dissent has been growing among the nobility for a long time, and Wickhowe has usually been in the middle of it. It’s still seems too much to hope for, but I wonder. Indeed I wonder.”

Hae-jin and his council continued with their discussion as best they could, though reduced mostly to more rounds of speculation as they waited on the word of the Bird. No one was ever quite sure exactly just how fast the Bird could fly, but it was reckoned by most that it would be some time before he returned. They were therefore taken aback when the Bird returned not thirty minutes later with a fresh report.

Six horsemen were on the road to Elmstead well in advance of the rest of the army. They bore with them the banners of the earls of Wickhowe, Swinstoke and Donnock, and were now scarcely an hour’s ride from the town gates.

Sykes shot a glance at Hae-jin.

“Well, if we weren’t sure before I think it’s quite clear now. I do believe the earls want our attention.”

“Indeed. These developments bode well. But muster the men nonetheless. We still can’t be sure of the earls’ intent, and in any case I would prefer to meet their emissaries with a suitable exhibit of our strength. Assemble the men!”

Orders were given and criers were dispatched throughout the town as they summoned Hae-jin’s forces to assemble at the square. Within an hour Hae-jin’s forces were put to order, some sent to man the walls while others remained massed in the square, with Hae-jin himself holding court before the town hall. Word then came that the six horsemen had arrived at the gates and requested an audience with Robin Goodfellow, and Hae-jin commanded that they be admitted and brought to the square.

The horsemen entered the square at a walk, three heralds in voluminous tabards sumptuously embroidered with the livery of their masters, each accompanied by a sergeant carrying a banner bearing the same. They made their way through the square past the semi-ordered ranks of Hae-jin’s army to the great table where Robin Goodfellow awaited their approach.

The horsemen stopped before the table, and the most senior of the heralds now saluted Hae-jin, who nodded in acknowledgement as the herald spoke.

“Their Lordships the Earls of Wickhowe, Swinstoke and Donnock greet Robin Goodfellow, and salute him for his achievements against the forces of the wicked tyrant Gurth and his followers. In accord with their noble peers, Their Lordships have vowed to rid Linster of the despot’s yoke, and do therefore pledge their friendship to the valiant Robin Goodfellow and do entreat him to ally himself with Their Lordships in their most worthy enterprise.”

The herald then produced a scroll, which was taken by Sykes and handed over to Hae-jin. The scroll bore the seals of about a dozen noble names, all earls, counts and barons, representing both themselves as well as their respective vassals. Accompanying the signatures was a pledge which was perhaps more loosely worded than Hae-jin would have preferred. However, as things were Hae-jin had no intention of rejecting the overture. His army would more than quadruple in size, and with it came an alliance with a sizable contingent of the Linsterish nobility. The choice was not without its own attendant risk, but with the forces of both Gurth and the King massing together only a few miles away, it was nothing short of a miracle which he could not possibly refuse. Hae-jin silently praised heaven as he closed the scroll and addressed the heralds.

“You may return to your masters and tell them that Robin Goodfellow accepts their friendship gladly. The gates of the town are open to them, and Robin Goodfellow eagerly awaits Their Lordships’ arrival.”

With that, the heralds departed and sped swiftly to their masters who were drawing nearer with each hour. As the sun was lowering the first advance columns of soldier could be seen from the walls of the town.

And the army of the earls marched now on the town of Elmstead as the gates stood wide before them.