The man in MY castle

 So, the gentleman wasn't my father. In fact he was a strange man all together. He laughed quite manically when I asked about why he was in my castle.  
And I got a little angry. 

And a drew my sword. 

No one can normally beat me, not since I was a child. But the man transformed into something so surprisingly familiar... I can not remember who moves so fast, or so skilfully. The king was one of the very few people who beat me in the holy land, but with him thousands of miles away...

From my place on the floor, I asked where my father was. The man, after taking not only my bag; but my sword and bow as well, led me outside to a small church.

He gave me a few minutes alone.
There are two graves, one bearing my fathers name. The other bearing my own.

He is apparently now The Lord of Glenhoe. This was MY title. By attacking him apparently I have committed a criminal act. 

I had not realised I was wearing my best tights, and not wishing for them to be dirtied I...

So now I am in the village stocks. My wrist aches from the mark they have placed on my arm, brandishing ME as an outlaw. 
I didn't listen to my charges, Impersonating myself I suppose?

I remember my Father taking me to see a man who had killed one of the kings deer in the stocks. He was only in there from sunrise to its setting. He claimed his family were hungry. He was a wanderer. And if he had a family they did not live in our estate.  I was handed a tomato by one of the village children and threw it as I saw other children doing the same. 

I aimed for the stock it's self not wishing like the others to hit the man. The tomatoes insides  burst over his face. And the pulp ran down his cheeks to the side of his mouth.  When the children had finished I remember seeing his tongue lick at the tomato juice. It was a hot day and when the crowds had moved back to there lives I asked why we threw things at him.

'To humiliate him, and make him remember that what he has done is wrong. In a stock, a man is not free to live as he pleases, Robin. In a stock a man relies on those around him.'
As he answered I saw my father step forward and take the flask he used when he went hunting.  He lifted it to the mans mouth and I watched as water dribbled down his chin from his mouth, washing away the juice from the tomato I had threw.

My father was a good man, one that was fair but just. I shall never get a chance to run my estate like he did. 

No one has come to throw tomatoes at me. I am not sure how long I am to be left here.