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Hood had made the most of his opportunity.
    The king's bounty hunter – who had been sent north specifically to deal with the problem of Robin Hood and his outlaw gang – had been left incapacitated for months, his lust for life lessening with every day he was forced to spend confined to a sick bed, while his hatred for Hood grew like a cancer inside him.
    The damned wolf's head hadn't just bested Gisbourne though, his men had killed the bounty hunter's second-in-command, Nicholas Barnwell. The man had been the closest thing Gisbourne had to a friend – they'd worked together bringing outlaws to justice for the best part of three years and had shared much together in that time. Barnwell's death was a real blow to the Raven.
    Although Gisbourne excelled at leading men in combat, he wasn't much good at dealing with the normal day-to-day problems and personal issues that affected any group of men, being aloof, arrogant and clearly considering himself superior to everyone beneath him. Barnwell had been a good go-between, with his earthy, sometimes sadistic humour endearing him to the men who saw him as “one of them”, with no airs or graces.
    Gisbourne knew he had to find someone to take Barnwell's place but none of the men in his current command were suitable, being mostly loyal to the sheriff, Henry de Faucumberg, or the king himself.
    After his recent failed assault on Hood's camp Gisbourne also knew he'd need to try a different tactic to catch the outlaws. Perhaps find someone who knew where the wolf's head's camp-sites were. Someone who knew the secret, hidden trails in the forests. Someone, in short, that knew exactly where and how Hood's men lived.
    It seemed divine providence then, when Matt Groves appeared in the city, looking for employment.
    Sir Guy didn't know much about the man, having only met him on a couple of occasions – breaking his nose the first time – but he knew Groves had spent a long time as part of Hood's gang and, more importantly, hated the young wolf's head with a vengeance. His knowledge of Barnsdale Forest would be invaluable too, so, when the sheriff had wanted to hang the man, Gisbourne had stepped in to save him, offering the grizzled outlaw the position as his own sergeant.
    “You remind me of my previous second-in-command,” Sir Guy had told Groves as de Faucumberg shook his head in disgust and waved them from his great hall. “He was a sour-faced, weather-beaten bastard too.”
    A rare smile cracked the corners of Matt's lips at that. “You won't regret this, my lord,” he vowed. “I know Yorkshire like the back of my hand. Hood never listened to me when I offered advice – thought he knew best, or asked Little John or Scarlet what to do instead. Arseholes, the lot of them. You can count on me, though, I won't let you down, in God's name, I swear it. You took a chance on me when no-one else would and I mean to repay you for it.”
    Gisbourne didn't like the fawning tone in the man's voice or the angry, darting eyes when he spoke but it was done now, the outlaw was his new sergeant. Whether he was useful or not remained to be seen. If he helped him kill Robin Hood – perfect. If he turned out to be a liability though, he would kill Groves himself without a second thought.
    Praise be to God, it was good to be back in the hunt.
     
    * * *
     
    Robin sat nursing a mug of ale, gazing into the fire wistfully, thinking back to the day they had first met the now departed Friar Tuck. So much had changed since then and yet here he was, still a wolf's head hiding from the law.
    Allan came over to sit with his brooding young leader. “I don't know for sure,” he began thoughtfully, “but I think Matt Groves was riding with Gisbourne in Pontefract when I was there earlier today.”
    Robin's sat up, his eyes flaring and the minstrel held up a hand defensively, almost feeling the force or his friend's hatred like a physical blow. “I'm not sure if it was him or not! I was in a hurry to