Robin didn't bother getting in to the types of alliances that Vaizey and Prince John had been trying to forge. Marian's death in the Holy Land had saved the King, but from what he had read in history, in the long term that counted for little. No one seemed even to remember what had been sacrificed. He himself was a legend whose existence was questioned.
"Why not?" He gestured back toward where the shed stood, and the seats where people could wait. His bow and quiver leaned against one of those. Walking ahead of Arthur, he took up the former, retrieving several arrows from his quiver. Where they had been standing was too close for a good demonstration. It was closer to the distance he used for the guests.
Strictly speaking he didn't need to fire more than one, but he had just been bested, close fight or not that was still not something he was used to. Placing the three arrows against the string and drawing it back to his chin, he focused on the target, eyes narrowing before he released them, one after the other in rapid succession. One hit the centre of the bullseye, the others an equal distance on either side of it.