{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28700/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28700","id":"gutenberg_28700","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28700","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- England","Robin Hood (Legendary character) -- Legends"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD\n\nILLUSTRATED BY N. C. WYETH\n\n[Illustration]\n\nDAVID MCKAY, PUBLISHER\n\nPHILADELPHIA MCMXVII\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n                                                             Facing Page\n\n  ROBIN AND HIS MOTHER GO TO NOTTINGHAM FAIR                          18\n    The road wound in and about the forest, and at noon they\n    came to a part where the trees nigh shut out the sky\n\n  ROBIN WRESTLES WILL STUTELEY AT GAMEWELL                            53\n    \"Catch him by the middle,\" he shouted. \"Now you have\n    him, lording, fairly. Throw him prettily!\" And sure enough\n    Stuteley came down\n\n  ROBIN MEETS MAID MARIAN                                            116\n    But Robin, venturing all, drew nigh. He came to the edge of\n    her box, and began to speak\n\n  ROBIN HOOD AND HIS COMPANIONS LEND AID TO WILL O' TH' GREEN\n  FROM AMBUSH                                                        156\n    Their arrows flew together, marvellous shots, each finding\n    its prey\n\n  LITTLE JOHN FIGHTS WITH THE COOK IN THE SHERIFF'S HOUSE            197\n    At last he made a dart upon Roger and the chase grew furious.\n    Dishes, plates, covers, pots and pans--all that came in\n    the way of them went flying\n\n  ROBIN HOOD DEFEATS NAT OF NOTTINGHAM AT QUARTER-STAFF              257\n    The beggar dealt his foe a back-thrust so neatly, so heartily,\n    and so swiftly that Nat was swept off the stage into the crowd\n    as a fly off a table\n\n  LITTLE JOHN SINGS A SONG AT THE BANQUET                            327\n    That evening, whilst Monceux raged and stormed without,\n    they all sat to a great feast\n\n  THE PASSING OF ROBIN HOOD                                          361\n    Leaning heavily against Little John's sobbing breast, Robin\n    Hood flew his last arrow out through the window, far away\n    into the deep green of trees\n\n\n\n\nROBIN HOOD AND HIS ADVENTURES\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n\n\"Well, Robin, on what folly do you employ yourself? Do you cut sticks\nfor our fire o' mornings?\" Thus spoke Master Hugh Fitzooth, King's\nRanger of the Forest at Locksley, as he entered his house.\n\nRobin flushed a little. \"These are arrows, sir,\" he announced, holding\none up for inspection.\n\nDame Fitzooth smiled upon the boy as she rose to meet her lord. \"What\nfortune do you bring us to-day, father?\" asked she, cheerily.\n\nFitzooth's face was a mask of discontent. \"I bring myself, dame,\"\nanswered he, \"neither more nor less.\"\n\n\"Surely that is enough for Robin and me!\" laughed his wife. \"Come, cast\noff your shoes, and give me your bow and quiver. I have news for you,\nHugh, even if you have none for us. George of Gamewell has sent his\nmessenger to-day, and bids me bring Robin to him for the Fair.\" She\nhesitated to give the whole truth.\n\n\"That cannot be,\" began the Ranger, hastily; then checked himself. \"What\nwind is it that blows our Squire's friendship toward me, I wonder?\" he\nwent on. \"Do we owe him toll?\"\n\n\"You are not fair to George Montfichet, Hugh--he is an open, honest\nman, and he is my brother.\" The dame spoke with spirit, being vexed that\nher husband should thus slight her item of news. \"That Montfichet is of\nNorman blood is sufficient to turn your thoughts of him as sour as old\nmilk----\"\n\n\"I am as good as all the Montfichets and De Veres hereabout, dame, for\nall I am but plain Saxon,\" returned Fitzooth, crossly, \"and the day may\ncome when they shall know it. Athelstane the Saxon might make full as\ngood a King, when Henry dies, as Richard of Acquitaine, with his\nharebrained notions and runagate religion. There would be bobbing of\nheads and curtseying to us then, if you like. Squire George of Gamewell\nwould be sending messengers for me cap in hand--doubt it not.\"\n\n\"For that matter, there is ready welcome for you now at my brother's\nhouse,\" said Mistress Fitzooth, repenting of her sharpness at once.\n\"Montfichet bade us _all_ to Gamewell; but here is his scroll, and you\nmay read it for yourself.\" She took a scroll from her bosom as she spoke\nand offered it to her husband.\n\nHe returned to the open door that he might read it. His brow puckered\nitself as he strove to decipher the flourished Norman writing. \"I have\nno leisure now for this screed, mother; read it to me later, an you\nwill.\"\n\nHis tone was kinder again, for he saw how Robin had been busying himself\nin these last few moments. \"Let us sup, mother. I dare swear we all are\nhungry after the heat of the day.\"\n\n\"I have made and tipped a full score of arrows, sir; will you see them?\"\nasked Robin.\n\n\"That will I, so soon as I have found the bottom of this pasty. Sit\nyourselves, mother and Robin, and we'll chatter afterwards.\"\n\nRobin helped his mother to kindle the flax whereby the dim and\nflickering tapers might be lighted. His fingers were more deft at this\nbusiness, it would seem, than in the making of arrows. Fitzooth, in the\nintervals of his eating, took up Robin's arrows one by one and had some\nshrewd gibe ready for most of them. Of the score only five were allowed\nto pass; the rest were tossed contemptuously into the black hearth on to\nthe little heap of smouldering fire.\n\n\"By my heart, Robin, but I shall never make a proper bowman of you! Were\never such shafts fashioned to fit across cord and yew!\"\n\n\"The arrows are pretty enough, Hugh,\" interposed the dame.\n\n\"There 'tis!\" cried Fitzooth, triumphantly. \"The true bowman's hand\nshoweth not in the _prettiness_ of an arrow, mother, but in the\nstraightness and hardness of the wand. Our Robin can fly a shaft right\nwell, I grant you, and I have no question for his skill, but he cannot\nyet make me an arrow such as I love.\"\n\n\"Well, I do think them right handsomely done,\" said Mistress Fitzooth,\nunconvinced. \"It is not given to everyone to make such arrows as you\ncan, husband; but my Robin has other accomplishments. He can play upon\nthe harp sweetly, and sing you a good song----\"\n\nFitzooth must still grumble, however. \"I would rather your fingers\nshould bend the bow than pluck at harp-strings, Robin,\" growled he.\n\"Still, there is time for all things. Read me now our brother's\nmessage.\"\n\nRobin, eager to atone for the faults of his arrows, stretched out the\npaper upon the table, and read aloud the following:--\n\n     \"From George \u00e0 Court Montfichet, of the Hall at Gamewell, near\n     Nottingham, Squire of the Hundreds of Sandwell and Sherwood, giving\n     greetings and praying God's blessing on his sister Eleanor and on\n     her husband, Master Hugh Fitzooth, Ranger of the King's Forest at\n     Locksley. Happiness be with you all. I do make you this screed in\n     the desire that you will both of you ride to me at Gamewell, in the\n     light of to-morrow, the fifth day of June, bringing with you our\n     young kinsman Robin. There is a Fair toward at Nottingham for three\n     days of this week, and we are to expect great and astonishing\n     marvels to be performed at it.\n\n     \"Wherefore, seeing that it will doubtless give him satisfaction and\n     some knowledge (for who can witness wonders without being the wiser\n     for them?), fail not to present yourselves as I honestly wish. I\n     also ask that Robin shall stay with me for the space of one year at\n     least, having no son _now_ and being a lonely man. Him will I treat\n     as my own child in all ways, and return him to you in the June of\n     next year.\n\n     \"This I send by the hand of Warrenton, my man-at-arms, who shall\n     bear me your reply.\n\n     \"Given under our hand at Gamewell, the 4th day of June, in the year\n     of grace one thousand one hundred and eighty-eight.\n\n  \"(Signed) MONTFICHET.\"\n\n\n\nRobin's clear voice ceased, and silence fell upon them all. Fitzooth\nguessed that both his son and wife waited anxiously for his decision;\nyet he had so great a pride that he could not at once agree to the\ncourteous invitation.\n\nFor himself he had no doubt. Nothing would move Fitzooth to mix with the\nfine folk of Nottingham whilst his claims to the acres of Broadweald, in\nLancashire, went unrecognized. It was an old story, and although, by\nvirtue of his office as Ranger at Locksley, Hugh Fitzooth might very\nproperly claim an honorable position in the county, he swore not to\navail himself of it unless he could have a better one. The bar sinister\nstayed him from Broadweald, so the judges had said, and haughty Fitzooth\nhad perforce to bear with their finding. The king had been much\ninterested in the suit, the estate being a large one, situated in the\nCounty Palatine of England, and the matter had caused some stir in the\nCourt. When Fitzooth had failed, Henry, anxious to find favor with his\nSaxon subjects, had bestowed on him the keeping of a part of the forest\nof Sherwood, in Nottingham.\n\nSo Fitzooth, plain \"master\" now for good and aye, had come to Locksley,\na little village at the further side of the forest, and had taken up the\neasy duties allotted to him. Here he had nursed his pride in loneliness\nfor some years; then had met one day Eleanor Montfichet a-hunting in the\nwoods. He had unbent to her, and she gave him her simple, true heart.\n\nStrange pair, thrown together by Fate, in sooth; yet no man could say\nthat this was an unhappy union. Within a year came black-eyed Robin to\nthem, and they worshipped their child. But as time passed, and Hugh's\nclaims were again put aside, his nature began to go sour once more. Now\nthey were lonely, unfriendly folk, with no society other than that of\nthe worthy Clerk of Copmanhurst--a hermit too. He had taught Robin his\nLatin grace, and had given him a fair knowledge of Norman, Saxon, and\nthe middle tongues.\n\n\"Say that we all may go to-morrow, father,\" cried Robin, breaking the\nsilence. \"I have never seen Nottingham Fair, sir, and you have promised\nto take me often.\"\n\n\"I cannot leave this place; for there is my work, and robbers are to be\nfound even here. I have to post my foresters each day in their tasks,\nand see that the deer be not killed and stolen.\"\n\nHe paused, and then, noting the disappointment in his son's face,\nrelented. \"Yet, since there is the Fair, and I have promised it, Robin,\nyou shall go with your mother to Gamewell, if so be the Friar of\nCopmanhurst can go also. So get ready your clothes, for I know that you\nwould wish to be at your best in our brother's hall. I will speed you\nto-morrow so far as Copmanhurst, and will send two hinds to serve you to\nNottingham gates.\"\n\n\"Warrenton, my brother's man, spoke grievously of the outlaw bands near\nGamewell, and told how he had to journey warily,\" So spoke Mistress\nFitzooth, trying yet to bring her husband to say that he too would go.\n\n\"The Sheriff administers his portion of the forest very abominably\nthen,\" returned Fitzooth. \"We have no fears and whinings here; but I do\nnot doubt that Warrenton chattered with a view to test our courage, or\nperchance to make more certain of my refusal.\"\n\n\"But we _are_ to go, are we not, sir?\" Robin was anxious again, for his\nfather's tone had already changed.\n\n\"I have said it; and there it ends,\" said Fitzooth, shortly. \"If the\nclerk will make the journey you shall make it too. Further, an the\nSquire will have you, you shall stay at Gamewell and learn the tricks\nand prettinesses of Court and town. But look to your bow for use in\nlife, and to your own hands and eyes for help. Kiss me, Robin, and get\nto bed. Learn all you can; and if Warrenton can show you how to fashion\narrows within the year I'll ask no more of brother George of\nGamewell.\"\n\n\"You shall be proud of me, sir; I swear it. But I will not stay longer\nthan a month; for I am to watch over my mother's garden.\"\n\n\"Never will shafts such as yours find quarry, Robin. I think that they\nwould sooner kill the archer than the birds. There, mind not my jesting.\nMen shall talk of you; and I may live to hear them. Be just always; and\nbe honest.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe day broke clear and sweet. From Locksley to the borders of Sherwood\nForest was but a stone's cast.\n\nRobin was in high glee, and had been awake long ere daylight. He had\ndressed himself in his best doublet, green trunk hose, and pointed\nshoes, and had strung and unstrung his bow full a score of times. A\nsumpter mule had been saddled to carry the baggage, for the dame had, at\nthe last moment, discovered a wondrous assortment of fineries and\nfripperies that most perforce be translated to Gamewell.\n\nRobin was carolling like any bird.\n\n\"Are you glad to be leaving Locksley, my son?\" asked Hugh Fitzooth.\n\n\"Ay, rarely!\"\n\n\"'Tis a dull place, no doubt. And glad to be leaving home too?\"\n\n\"No, sir; only happy at the thought of the Fair. Doubt it not that I\nshall be returned to you long ere a month is gone.\"\n\n\"A year, Robin, a year! Twelve changing months ere you will see me\nagain. I have given my word now. Keep me a place in your heart, Robin.\"\n\n\"You have it all now, sir, be sure, and I am not really so glad within\nas I seem without.\"\n\n\"Tut, I am not chiding you. Get you upon your jennet, dame; and, Robin,\ndo you show the way. Roderick and the other shall lead the baggage mule.\nHave you pikes with you, men, and full sheaths?\"\n\n\"I have brought me a dagger, father,\" cried Robin, joyfully.\n\nSo, bravely they set forth from their quiet house at Locksley, and came\nwithin the hour to Copmanhurst. Here only were the ruins of the chapel\nand the clerk's hermitage, a rude stone building of two small rooms.\n\nEnclosed with high oaken stakes and well guarded by two gaunt hounds was\nthe humble abode of the anchorite.\n\nThe clerk came to the verge of his enclosure to greet them, and stood\npeering above the palisade. \"Give you good morrow, father,\" cried Robin;\n\"get your steed and tie up the dogs. We go to Nottingham this day and\nyou are to come with us!\"\n\nThe monk shook his head. \"I may not leave this spot, child, for matters\nof vanity,\" he answered, in would-be solemn tones.\n\n\"Will you not ride with the dame and my son, father?\" asked Fitzooth.\n\"George of Gamewell has sent in for Robin, and I wish that you should\njourney with him, giving him such sage counsel as may fit him for a\nyear's service in the great and worshipful company that he now may\nmeet.\"\n\n\"Come with us to-day, father,\" urged Mistress Fitzooth also. \"I have\nbrought a veal pasty and some bread, so that we may not be hungry on the\nroad. Also, there is a flask of wine.\"\n\n\"Nay, daughter, I have no thought for the carnal things of life. I will\ngo with you, since the Ranger of Locksley orders it. It is my place to\nobey him whom the King has put in charge of our greenwood. Bide here\nwhilst I make brief preparation.\"\n\nHis eyes had twinkled, though, when the dame had spoken; and one could\nsee that 'twas not on roots and fresh water alone that the clerk had\nthrived. Full and round were the lines of him under his monkly gown; and\nhis face was red as any harvest moon.\n\nHugh bade farewell briefly to them, while the clerk was tying up his\nhounds and chattering with them.\n\nWhen the clerk was ready Fitzooth kissed his dame and bade her be firm\nwith their son; then, embracing Robin, ordered him to protect his mother\nfrom all mischance. Also he was to bear himself honorably and quietly;\nand, whilst being courteous to all folk, he was not to give way unduly\nto anyone who should attempt to browbeat or to cozen him.\n\n\"Remember always that your father is a proud man; and see, take those\narrows of my own making and learn from them how to trim the hazel. You\nhave a steady hand and bold eye; be a craftsman when you return to\nLocksley, and I will give you control of some part of the forest, under\nme. Now, farewell--take my greetings to our brother at Gamewell.\"\n\nThen the King's Forester turned on his heel and strode back towards\nLocksley. Once he paused and faced about to wave his cap to them: then\nhis figure vanished into the green of the trees.\n\nA sadness fell upon Robin--unaccountable and perplexing. But the hermit\nsoberly journeyed toward Nottingham, the two men-at-arms, with the\nsumpter mule, riding in front.\n\nThe road wound in and about the forest, and at noon they came to a part\nwhere the trees nigh shut out the sky.\n\nRobin spied out a fine old stag, and his fingers itched to fit one of\nhis new arrows to his bow. \"These be all of them King's deer, father?\"\nhe asked the friar, thoughtfully.\n\n\"Every beast within Sherwood, royal or mean, belongs to our King,\nchild.\"\n\n\"Do they not say that Henry is away in a foreign land, father?\"\n\n\"Ay, but he will return. His deer are not yet to be slain by your\narrows, child. When you are Ranger at Locksley, in your father's stead,\nwho shall then say you nay?\"\n\n\"My father does not shoot the King's deer, except those past their\ntime,\" answered Robin, quickly. \"He tends them, and slays instead any\nrobbers who would maltreat or kill the does. Do you think I could hit\nyon beast, father? He makes a pretty mark, and my arrow would but prick\nhim?\"\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN AND HIS MOTHER GO TO NOTTINGHAM FAIR\n\n_The road wound in and about the forest, and at noon they came to a part\nwhere the trees nigh shut out the sky._]\n\nThe clerk glanced toward Mistress Fitzooth. \"Dame,\" said he, gravely,\n\"do you not think that here, in this cool shadow, we might well stay our\ntravelling? Surely it is near the hour of noon? And,\" here he sank his\nvoice to a sly whisper, \"it would be well perhaps to let this temptation\npass away from before our Robin! Else, I doubt not, the King will be one\nstag the less in Sherwood.\"\n\n\"I like not this dark road, father,\" began the dame. \"We shall surely\ncome to a brighter place. Robin, do you ride near to me, and let your\nbow be at rest. Warrenton, your uncle's man, told me but yesterday----\"\n\nHer voice was suddenly drowned in the noise of a horn, wound so shrilly\nand distantly as to cause them all to start. Then, in a moment, half a\nscore of lusty rascals appeared, springing out of the earth almost. The\nmen-at-arms were seized, and the little cavalcade brought to a rude\nhalt.\n\n\"Toll, toll!\" called out the leader. \"Toll must you pay, everyone, ere\nyour journey be continued!\"\n\n\"Forbear,\" cried Robin, waving his dagger so soon as the man made\nattempt to take his mother's jennet by the bridle. \"Tell me the toll,\nand the reason for it; and be more mannerly.\"\n\nThe man just then spied that great stag which Robin had longed to shoot,\nbounding away to the left of them. Swiftly he slipped an arrow across\nhis longbow and winged it after the flying beast.\n\n\"A miss, an easy miss!\" called Robin, impatiently. Dropping his dagger,\nhe snatched an arrow from his quiver, fitted it to his bow and sent it\nspeeding towards the stag. \"Had I but aimed sooner!\" murmured Robin,\nregretfully, when his arrow failed by a yard to reach its quarry; and\nthe clerk held up his hands in pious horror of his words.\n\n\"The shot was a long one, young master,\" spoke the robber, and he\nstooped to pick up Robin's little weapon. \"Here is your bodkin--'tis no\nfault of yours that the arrow was not true.\"\n\nThey all laughed right merrily; but Robin was vexed.\n\n\"Stand away, fellows,\" said he, \"and let us pass on. Else shall you all\nbe whipped.\"\n\nAgain the leader of the band spoke. \"Toll first, lording; tender it\nprettily to us, and you shall only tender it once.\"\n\n\"I'll tender it not at all,\" retorted young Fitzooth. \"Fie upon you for\nstaying a woman upon the King's highroad! Pretty men, forsooth, to\nattack in so cowardly a fashion!\"\n\n\"All must buy freedom of the greenwood, master,\" answered the man, quite\ncivilly. \"We, who exact the toll, take no heed of sex. Pay us now, and\nwhen you return there shall be no questioning.\"\n\n\"A woman should be a safe convoy and free from all toll,\" argued Robin.\n\"Now here are my two men.\"\n\n\"Slaves, master; and they have only your mule and the two pikes. It is\nnot enough.\"\n\n\"You will leave us nothing then, it seems,\" said Dame Fitzooth, in\ntrembling but brave voice.\n\n\"There is one thing that we all do value, mistress, and I purpose\nsparing you that. We will do no one of you any bodily harm.\"\n\n\"Take my purse, then,\" sighed Mistress Fitzooth. \"There is little enough\nin it, for we are poor folk.\"\n\n\"Ask toll of the Church,\" cried Robin, staying his mother. \"The Church\nis rich, and has to spare. And afterwards, she can grant absolution to\nyou all.\"\n\nAgain the robbers laughed, as the clerk began explaining very volubly to\nthem that they were welcome to all that Mother Church could on this\noccasion offer.\n\n\"We know better than to stay a monk for toll,\" said the robber. \"Beside,\nwould your excellence have us commit sacrilege?\"\n\n\"I would have you leave hold of my bridle,\" answered Robin, very\nwrathfully.\n\n\"Pay the toll cheerfully, youngling,\" cried one of the others, \"and be\nnot so wordy in the business. We have other folk to visit; the day is\nalready half gone from Sherwood.\"\n\n\"I will shoot with you for the freedom of the forest,\" said Robin,\ndesperately. \"An I lose, then shall you take all but my mother's jennet.\nShe shall be allowed to carry my mother into Gamewell, whilst I remain\nhere, as hostage, for her return.\"\n\n\"Let the dame bring back a hundred crowns in each of her hands, then,\"\nreplied the chief of the robbers.\n\n\"It is agreed,\" answered Robin, after one appealing glance towards the\ndame. \"Now help me down from my horse, and let the clerk see fair play.\nSet us a mark, good father, and pray Heaven to speed my arrows\ncunningly.\"\n\nThe clerk, who had kept himself much in the background, now spoke. \"This\nwager seems to savor of unholiness, friends,\" said he, solemnly. \"Yet,\nin that it also smacks of manliness, I will even consent to be judge.\nYou, sir, since you are doubtless well acquainted with the part, can\nspeak for distance. Now, I do appoint the trunk of yon birch-tree as\nfirst mark in this business.\"\n\n\"Speed your arrow, then, lording,\" laughed the robber, gaily. \"'Tis but\nforty ells away! I will follow you respectfully, never doubt it.\"\n\nRobin bent his bow and trained his eyes upon the birch.\n\nThen suddenly came back upon him his father's words: \"Remember that I am\na proud man, Robin.\"\n\n\"I will,\" muttered Robin, betwixt set teeth, and he aimed with all his\nheart and soul in it. There came the twang of the bowstring, and the\nnext moment the gooseshaft was flying towards its mark.\n\n\"A pretty shot, master,\" said the robber, glancing carelessly towards\nthe arrow, quivering still in the trunk of the birch-tree. \"But you have\nscarce taken the centre of our mark. Let me see if I may not mend your\naim.\"\n\nHis arrow sang through the summer air, and took root fairly in the\nmiddle of the trunk, side by side with Robin's.\n\n\"You win first round, friend,\" said the clerk, with seeming reluctance.\n\"Now, listen, both, whilst I make you a better test.\" He was about to\ncontinue, when an interruption occurred one that saved him necessity of\nfurther speech.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n\nSuddenly through the greenwood came full four score of the King's\nForesters, running towards the robbers, ready to seize them.\n\nThese were the foresters of Nottingham, roving far afield. The Sheriff\nof Nottingham had become angered at the impudent robberies of late, and\nnow all of his foresters had spread themselves about Sherwood in the\nhope of making such a capture of the outlaws as would please their\nmaster and bring substantial reward to themselves. On the head of Will\no' th' Green, the chief of the band, was set the price of ten golden\ncrowns.\n\nBut alas! these crowns were still to seek; for Will o' th' Green, at\nfirst hint of the danger, had put his horn to his lips and given a long,\nlow call upon it, and next instant not a robber was to be seen.\n\nEach man had dropped to his hands and knees as soon as he had reached\nthe bushes; and the foresters might beat and belabor Mother Sherwood in\nvain, for she would never betray her children.\n\nFitzooth's men-at-arms were glad to be released, and were eager now to\ngive all information against their assailants. One of the fellows swore\nroundly that the learned clerk had given Will o' th' Green a very plain\nhint; but this assertion was most properly put aside by all who heard\nit.\n\nRobin gave his story of the business, and then, having thanked the\ncaptain of the foresters, would have continued the journey. The clerk\nwas no longer to be denied, however, from his food: and so it came about\nthat presently the four of them were at a meal together under the\ntrees--the captain of the foresters having agreed to join with Robin,\nthe hermit, and Mistress Fitzooth in an attack upon the good wine and\npasty which the latter had provided.\n\nThe foresters returned in twos and threes from their fruitless search,\nand stood about in little knots discussing the chase. All agreed that\nthe outlaws had some stronghold underground, with many entrances and\nways into it; easily to be found by those in the secret, but impossible\nof passage to persons in pursuit.\n\n\"Do you go to Gamewell, friends?\" asked the captain, after the meal had\nbeen finished. When he had been answered yes, he told Mistress Fitzooth\nthat she might have an escort for the rest of the way; since he and his\nmen must travel to Gamewell themselves, to report the encounter to\nSquire George of Gamewell.\n\nGladly Mistress Fitzooth heard this, and very cheerfully they all\nstarted afresh upon the journey.\n\nRobin alone was sad; the fact that the robber chief's arrow had flown\nmore near a woodman's mark than his own rankled within his breast.\n\nAh, but a time would come when Master Will o' th' Green should see\nbetter archery than he now dreamed of. And Robin should be the master\nwho would teach the lesson.\n\nBuilding such day-dreams, he cantered quietly enough beside his mother's\njennet; whilst the clerk and the captain of the foresters chattered\namiably together. The dame listened to their gossip, and put in her own\nword and question; she had an easy mind now and could give herself to\ntalk of Prince John and his impudent rebellion.\n\n\"So the barons would really make him King?\" asked she, round-eyed: \"King\nof all these lands and forests?\"\n\n\"Some of our barons have sworn so much,\" answered the forester, lightly;\n\"but men speak best with their swords, dame. Have you not heard of young\nMontfichet's doings? He has undone himself indeed----\"\n\n\"Waldemar Fitzurse is behind it all, and young De Brocy,\" the clerk\ninterrupted, loudly, giving him a warning glance.\n\nThe friar pointed to Robin. \"'Tis the lad's cousin, and he does not know\nof Geoffrey Montfichet's outlawry,\" he whispered.\n\n\"Some say that the King will establish an assize of arms on his return\nfrom France, whereby every knight, freeholder, and burgess must arm\nhimself for England's defense,\" continued the clerk, easily. \"'Tis a\npretty notion, and like our King.\"\n\n\"There are tales about our Henry, and ballads more than enough,\" replied\nthe forester, shrugging his shoulders. \"Will o' th' Green knows a good\none, I am told.\"\n\nAt the mention of the outlaw's name Robin pricked up his ears. He asked\nmany questions concerning Master Will; and learned that he had been\noutlawed by Henry himself for the accidental slaying of a younger\nbrother in a quarrel years since. Before that he had been a dutiful and\nloyal subject, and there were some who vowed that Master Will was as\nloyal now as many of Henry's barons. Will shot the King's deer, truly,\nbut only that he might live: the others conspired against their\nmonarch's honor, in order that their own might be increased.\n\nThe cavalcade came into sight of Gamewell Hall while still at this\ngossip. The night was falling and lights burned behind the embrasured\nwindows of the castle, for such it was in truth, being embattled and\nsurrounded properly by a moat and heavy walls.\n\nThe captain wound his horn to such purpose that the bridge was soon\nlowered, and the whole party began to trot over it into the wide\ncourtyard before the hall. That it was a very magnificent place was\napparent, despite the shadows.\n\nBefore the door of the hall Robin sprang lightly from his horse and ran\nto help his mother from her saddle with tender care: then moved to give\nassistance to the clerk. The latter had bundled himself to firm ground,\nhowever, and now stood stolidly expectant.\n\nMaster Montfichet--George of Gamewell, as the country folk called him\nmostly--had come down to greet his guests, and was waiting upon them ere\nRobin could turn about. The Squire was an old man, with white hair\ncurling from under a little round cap. He wore long black robes, loose\nand rather monkish in their fashion. He seemed as unlike his sister as\nRobin could well imagine, besides being so much more advanced in years.\nHis face was hairless and rather pale; but his eyes shone brightly.\nThere was a very pleasant expression in the lines about his mouth, and\nhis manner was perfect. He embraced Robin with kindliness; and real\naffection for his sister seemed to underlie his few words of welcome. To\nthe Friar of Copmanhurst he was so courteous and respectful that Robin\nbegan to wonder whether he himself had ever properly regarded the clerk\nin the past. If so great a man should bow to him, what ought Robin to\ndo? Robin remembered that he had often ventured to rally and tease this\ngood-natured master who had taught him his letters.\n\nThe Squire bade them follow him, so soon as their horses and baggage had\nbeen duly given over to the servants and he had heard the forester's\ncomplaint against the outlaws. The Squire made little comment, but\nfrowned.\n\nAt the conclusion of the captain's report, they came into the hall,\nlighted by a thousand fat tapers.\n\n\"Sister Nell--do you please dismiss us,\" said the Squire, in his courtly\nway, after he had signed to some waiting-maids to take charge of\nMistress Fitzooth. \"I will lead Robin to his chamber myself, and show\nhim the arrangement we have made for his stay at Gamewell. Supper will\nbe served us here in less than an hour. Father, your apartments shall be\nnear my own. Come with me, also.\"\n\nIn the room allotted to him Robin found new and gay clothes laid out\nupon a fair, white bed, with a little rush mat beside it. A high\nlatticed window looked out upon the court, and there was a bench in the\nnook, curiously carven and filled with stuffs and naperies the like of\nwhich Robin had never seen before.\n\nThe walls were hung with tapestries, and very fierce and amazing were\nthe pictures embroidered upon them. The ceiling was low and raftered\nwith polished beams. Behind the door was a sword suspended by a leathern\nbelt.\n\n\"For you, kinsman,\" the Squire had said, smilingly.\n\nRobin lost no time in doffing his green jerkin and hose, and then he\nwashed himself and eagerly essayed his new habiliments. When the sword\nhad been buckled on, our young hero of Locksley felt himself equal to\nWill o' th' Green or any other gallant in Christendom.\n\nHe strode along the corridors and found his way back to the great hall.\nThere the Master of Gamewell and his mother awaited him. Mistress\nFitzooth's eyes shone approvingly, and Robin slipped his fingers into\nhers.\n\n\"I'll build a castle as fine as this, mother mine, one of these days,\"\nRobin told her: and he began to ask Master Montfichet questions as to\nthe number of claims-at-law that he must have won in order to hold so\nsplendid a domain. The Squire smilingly told him that the King had given\nGamewell to him as a reward for valor in battle many years agone.\n\n\"Then will I fight for the King,\" cried Robin, with flashing eyes, \"so\nthat I may win my father Broadweald and all the lands of it.\"\n\n\"And I will teach you, Robin: be sure of that,\" said old George\nMontfichet. \"But your sword must be swung for the right King, harkee.\nNot for rebellious princes will we cry to arms; but for him whom God\nhath placed over us--Henry the Angevin.\"\n\n\"Amen,\" murmured the clerk, fervently. \"Let law and order be respected\nalways.\"\n\n\"It may mean much to you, friar,\" said Montfichet. \"Young John has the\nPriory of York under his hands.\"\n\n\"He has not fingers upon Sherwood, and we are free of it!\" cried the\nclerk. Then he hastily corrected himself. \"We hermits can have no fear,\nsince we have no wealth. Happy then the man with naught to lose, and who\nhas a contented mind.\"\n\n\"I will be free of Sherwood Forest, father, if that boon shall wait upon\nmy archery. Master Will, the robber, swore that if I beat him, sir\"--he\nhad turned his bright face to old Gamewell's--\"I should go free of the\ngreenwood. And I will win the right.\"\n\n\"'Tis scarcely Will's to grant,\" frowned the Squire; \"yet, in a way, he\nhas control of the forest. It is a matter which I will look to, since\nthe Sheriff seems so fearful of him,\" he added, significantly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n\nThe next day they journeyed quietly into Nottingham, taking only a few\nretainers with them. The clerk chose to stay at the hall, fearing, as he\nsaid, that his eyes would be offended with the vanity of the town.\n\nWhen they had come to the meadows wherein the Fair was held, Robin was\novercome with joy at the sight of the wonderments before him.\n\nThat which most pleased him was the tumbling and wrestling of a company\nof itinerant players, merry fellows, all in a great flutter of tinsel\nand noise. They were father and three sons, and while the old man blew\nvigorously upon some instrument, the three sons amused themselves and\nthe crowd by cutting capers.\n\nAgain and again did Robin entice Master Montfichet to return to these\nstrollers. It was the wrestling that most moved him, for they put such\nheart into it as to make the thing seem real. \"Give them another penny,\nsir,\" requested Robin, with heightened color. \"Nay, give them a silver\none. Did you ever see the like? The little one has the trick of it, for\nsure ... I do believe that he will throw the elder in the next bout.\"\n\n\"Will you try a turn with me, young master?\" asked the little stroller,\noverhearing these words, \"If you can stand twice to me, I'll teach you\nthe trick and more besides.\"\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" said the Squire, hastily. \"We have no leisure for such\nplay, Robin. Your mother is waiting for us at yonder booth. Let us go to\nher.\"\n\nRobin turned away reluctantly. \"I do think I could stand twice to him.\nThe grass is dry within the ring, sir--do you think I should hurt my\nclothes?\"\n\nSuch pleading as this moved the capricious old Master of Gamewell.\nAlthough it was scarce a proper thing for one of gentle blood to mix\nwith these commoners, yet the Squire could not forego his own appetite\nfor sport. He turned about to the strollers: \"I will give a purse of\nsilver pennies to the one who wins the next bout,\" said he. \"Let any and\nall be welcome to the ring, and the bout shall be one of three falls.\nChallenge anyone in Nottingham; I dare swear some lad will be found who\nshall show you how to grip and throw.\"\n\nThe father of the players struck a most pompous attitude and blew three\npiercing blasts. \"Come one, come all!\" cried he. \"Here be the three\ngreat wrestlers from Cumberland, where wrestling is practised by every\nlad and man! Here are the wrestlers who have beaten all in their own\ncounty, and who now seek to overcome other champions! Oyez, oyez! There\nis a prize of twenty silver pennies to be handed to the winner of the\nnext bout (did you say twenty or thirty pennies, lording?). Come one,\ncome all--the lads from Cumberland challenge you!\"\n\n\"Now let me wrestle for the pence, sir,\" pleaded Robin, catching hold of\nthe Squire's sleeve. \"Why should not I try to win them? They might\nbecome the foundation of that fortune which I would have for my father's\nsake.\"\n\n\"Twenty pennies would buy him little of Broadweald, boy,\" laughed the\nSquire. \"Nor should a Montfichet struggle in the mob for vulgar gain.\nYou are a Montfichet--remember it--on your mother's side. We will see\nhow they fare, these men of Cumberland, against the lads of Nottingham\nand Sherwood. Here comes one in answer to the challenge.\"\n\nA thin, pale-faced fellow had claimed the purse whilst the Squire had\nbeen speaking. \"'Tis yours if you can take it,\" answered the old\nstroller, as he and his lads cleared the ring. A great crowd of folk\ngathered about, and Montfichet and Robin were in danger of being jostled\ninto the background.\n\n\"Stand here beside me, lording,\" commanded the stroller. \"Do you keep\nback there, impudent dogs! This is the noble who gives the purse. There\nshall be no purse at all, an you harry us so sorely. Stand back, you and\nyou!\" He pushed back the mob with vigorous thrusts. \"Now let the best\nman win.\"\n\nThe two lads had stripped to their waists, and were eyeing each other\nwarily. The Nottingham youth, despite his slimness, showed clean and\nmuscular against the swarthy thick-set boy from Cumberland. They\nsuddenly closed in and clutched each other, then swayed uncertainly from\nside to side. The crowd cheered madly.\n\nThe competitors for Montfichet's purse were evenly matched in strength:\nit remained for one of them to throw the other by means of some trick or\nfeint. The stroller tried a simple ruse, and nigh lost his feet in doing\nit.\n\n\"You must show us a better attempt than that, Cumberland!\" called out\nsomeone. Robin, quick-eared to recognize a voice, turned his head\ninstantly, and in time to catch a glimpse of Will o' th' Green, the\nrobber of Sherwood!\n\nSeeing Robin's gaze fixed upon him, Master Will deemed it prudent to\ndiscreetly withdraw. He nodded boldly to the lad first, however; then\nmoved slowly away. \"Hold fast to him, Nottingham, for your credit's\nsake,\" he cried, ere disappearing.\n\nMeanwhile the wrestlers tugged and strained every nerve. Great beads of\nperspiration stood out upon their brows. Neither made any use of the\nmany common tricks of wrestling: each perceived in the other no usual\nfoe.\n\nSuddenly the Nottingham lad slipped, or seemed to slip, and instantly\nthe other gripped him for a throw. Fatal mistake--'twas but a ruse--and\nso clear a one as to end the first round. The Nottingham lad recovered\nadroitly, and now that the other had his arm low about the enemy's body,\nhis equipoise was readily disturbed. The stroller felt himself swiftly\nthrust downward, and as they both fell together it was he who went\nundermost.\n\n\"A Nottingham! A Nottingham!\" clamored the crowd, approvingly. Then all\nprepared themselves for the second round.\n\nThis, to Robin's surprise, was ended as soon as begun. The Cumberland\nlad knew of a clever grip, and practised it upon the other immediately,\nand the Nottingham hero went down heavily.\n\nThe third bout was a stubborn match, but fortune decided it at length in\nfavor of the stroller. Montfichet handed the purse to the winner without\nregret. \"Spend the money worthily as you have won it, Cumberland,\"\nspoke the Squire. \"Now, Robin, let us join your mother. She will be\nweary waiting for us.\"\n\n\"And if your stomach sickens for a fight with me, master, here may I be\nfound until Saturday at noon.\" So said the little tumbler, roguishly.\n\"'Tis a pity that we could not tussle for the purse, eh? but I would\nhave given your ribs a basting.\"\n\n\"Now shall I twist his ears for him, Squire?\" said Robin.\n\n\"Nay, boy, let his ears grow longer, as befitteth; then you will have\nfreer play with them. Come with me to see the miracle-play, and be not\nso ready to answer these rascallions. I begin to think that we should\nnot have gone the round of the shows by ourselves, Master Spitfire.\nTravelling unattended with you is too dangerous a business.\"\n\nMontfichet smiled despite his chidings. He had already taken a fancy to\nthis high-spirited youth. He walked affectionately, with his hand upon\nRobin's shoulder, towards the booth where, with her maids, Mistress\nFitzooth was waiting for them. \"Are you sorry for Nottingham, Robin?\" he\nasked, as they passed by the pale-faced, rueful wrestler. \"Then take him\nthis little purse quietly. Tell him it is for consolation, from a\nfriend.\"\n\nRobin gladly performed the task; then, as he returned to the Squire's\nside, thought to ask instruction on a point which had perplexed him not\na little. \"Yesterday, sir,\" he began, \"when we were in the greenwood,\nall men seemed eager to catch the robber chief.\"\n\n\"Well, Robin?\"\n\n\"To-day he walks about Nottingham Fair, and no one attempts to tarry\nhim. Why is this, sir? Is the ground sanctuary?\"\n\n\"Have you spied out Will o' th 'Green indeed?\" began Montfichet,\neagerly. \"That were hard to believe, for all he is so audacious.\"\n\n\"Truly, sir, I saw him when we were at the wrestling. He peered at me\nabove the caps of the people.\"\n\n\"Point him out now to me, Robin, if you can.\" The Squire became\nhumorously doubtful, and his amusement grew upon him as Robin vainly\nsearched with his bright eyes about the throng. \"No Will o' th' Green is\nhere, child; he would be a fish out of water, indeed, in Nottingham\ntown. Dearly would I love to catch him, though.\"\n\n\"Yet I did see him, sir, and he knew me. Now here is my mother, who\nshall tell you how long we talked together yesterday. It is not likely\nthat I would forget his voice.\"\n\n\"Well, well, perhaps you are right,\" said the Squire. \"At any rate,\nwe'll keep sharp eyes for the rogue. Have you seen the miracle-play,\nSister Nell?\" he added now to Mistress Fitzooth.\n\n\"I have been waiting here for you,\" answered she, briefly, \"Robin, what\ndo you think of it all?\"\n\nRobin's reply was drowned in the noise of the music made within the\ntents. It was so dreadful a din that all were fain to move away.\n\n\"See, mother, here is a wizard; let us go in here!\" Robin had spied a\ndim, mysterious booth, outside of which were triangles and cones and\nfiery serpents coming forth from a golden pot, with cabalistic signs\nand figures about the sides of it. Standing there was a tall, aged man,\nclad in a long red robe and leaning upon a star-capped wand.\n\n\"Will you have the stars read to you, lording?\" he asked, gravely.\n\n\"Ay, surely!\" clamored Robin. \"Come, mother mine; come, sir, let us ask\nhim questions of Locksley, and hear what my father may be doing.\"\n\n\"Do you think that you will hear truth, child? Well, have your way. Will\nyou join us, Nell--the business is a pleasing one, for these knaves have\nthe tricks of their trade. But harkee, friends, give no real heed to the\nmummery.\"\n\nThe wizard ushered them into his tent. Then he dropped the edge of the\ncanvas over the opening, shrouding them in complete darkness.\n\nThe Squire began an angry protest, thinking that now was a good chance\nfor any confederate to rob them or cut their pockets: but the wizard,\nunheeding, struck suddenly upon a small gong. A little blue flame sprang\nup from a brazier at the far end of the tent.\n\nIn the strange light one could now see the furniture and appurtenances\nof this quaint place. They were curious enough, although few in number.\nA globe, and a small table covered with a black cloth; a bench strewn\nwith papers and parchments; and a skeleton of an ape, terribly deformed,\nwere the chief items of the collection.\n\nA curtain concealed part of the tent. Behind the brazier were hanging\nshelves covered with little bottles and phials. The wizard stretched\nhis wand out towards the dancing blue flame, and it forthwith leaped up\ninto a golden glory.\n\n\"Approach, Robin, son of Fitzooth the Ranger,\" commanded the wizard.\n\"Place your hand upon the globe and look down upon this table.\" He\npushed away the black cloth, showing that the center of the table was\nmade of flat green glass. \"Look steadily, and tell me what you see.\"\n\n\"I see through it the grass of the ground on which we stand,\" said\nRobin. \"There is naught else.\"\n\n\"Look again, Robin of Locksley.\"\n\nRobin strained his eyes in the hope of discovering something of mystery.\nBut the flat glass was clear and disappointing.\n\n\"Let me take your place, Robin,\" said Mistress Fitzooth, impatiently.\n\nBut now the green of the glass began to fade; and it seemed to become\nopaque and misty. Robin dimly saw in it a sudden miniature picture of a\nglade in the forest of Sherwood, the trees moving under a south-west\nwind, and the grasses and flowers bowing together and trembling.\n\nIt seemed to be summer; the bracken was high and green. A man, clad in\ndoublet and hose of Lincoln green, strode forward into the center of the\npicture. He was a slim fellow, not over tall, with a likeable face,\nbearded and bronzed; and a forester, too, if one might judge by the\nlongbow which he carried. He wore no badge nor mark of servitude,\nhowever, and walked as a free man. His face, vaguely familiar, wore an\nexpectant look. He turned his glances right and left. A low call sounded\nfrom the bushes on his left. Robin could hear it as a sound afar off.\n\nThe man cautiously moved towards the verge of the glade, and as he did\nso there came a shower of light laughter from the undergrowth. Pushing\naside the bracken came forth two arms; a merry face appeared; then,\nquick as a flash, upstood a page, gaily clad, with black curly hair and\nstrange eyes.\n\nThe man opened his arms to the lad, and then Robin saw that 'twas no boy\nat all. It was a maid, joyous with life, playing such a prank as this\nthat she might bring herself to her true love's side.\n\nRobin watched them delightedly. In some way he knew that in this\nmirrored picture _he_ was concerned to a curious degree; and when a cold\ncloud passing above the glade took the sun and the light from it Robin\nfelt an intense anxiety.\n\n\"Can you see aught now, Robin of the Woods?\" murmured the soft voice of\nthe wizard, and Robin would have asked him who was the man, if his\ntongue had been at command.\n\nHis eyes took all the strength of his brain. They waited furiously for\nthe cloud to pass.\n\nWhen all had become clear again the man was alone. His face was\nsorrowful, ill, and old. He was fitting an arrow to his bow, and his\nhand trembled as his fingers drew the string. He drew it slowly, almost\nwearily, yet with a practised gesture. Robin, watching him, saw the\narrow leap forth from the picture.\n\n\"He is dying and shoots his last arrow--is it not so?\" he uttered\nthickly, striving to understand.\n\nWhile he spoke the vision faded and was gone.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n\nRobin started back angrily and faced the Squire. He began a confused\ncomplaint against the wizard, who had vanished behind the curtain on the\nleft. Master Montfichet shrugged his shoulders indulgently.\n\n\"Give not so earnest a mind to these mummeries, child. 'Twas all a\ntrick! What did you see? A golden fortune and a happy life?\"\n\n\"I did see a man, sir, dressed all in Lincoln green. He was like unto my\nfather, in a way, and yet was not my father. Also there was a stripling\npage, who turned into a maid. Very beautiful she was, and I would know\nher again in any guise.\"\n\n\"Ah, Master Robin, have you eyes for the maids already?\"\n\n\"This was so sweet a lady, sir, and in some manner I do think she died.\nAnd the man shot an arrow, meaning me to see where it fell, since there\nwould be her grave. That is what I think he meant. But then the picture\nwas gone as quickly as it came.\"\n\n\"Sister Nell, do you hear these marvels? Take your place and let us see\nwhat the crystal can show to you. Most worthy conjurer of dreams, take\nup your wand again: we all are waiting impatiently to know what is in\nstore for us!\"\n\n\"These things are true that the glass mirror shows, lording,\" answered\nthe wizard, reappearing. \"The crystal cannot lie.\"\n\nHe spoke unwittingly in a natural key. Robin turned round upon him very\nshrewdly.\n\n\"Friend wizard,\" said the youth, half at random, \"have you ever played\nat archery in that greenwood which your glass showed us so prettily?\"\n\n\"Like as not, young master, though I am an old man.\"\n\n\"Fie on you, friend!\" cried Robin, exulting in a sudden discovery.\n\"Remember that the crystal cannot lie. It tells me now that you and I\nwill meet in rivalry, to shoot together for a strange prize--the freedom\nof Sherwood!\"\n\nThe wizard hastily drew near and pretended to peer into the glass. \"What\nwould you do?\" he whispered, fiercely.\n\n\"I can be generous, Will o' th' Green,\" spoke back Robin, quite sure\nnow. \"Keep your secret, for I will not betray you.\"\n\nAt this moment there uprose without the booth a most deafening tumult.\nForthwith all ran to the opening of the tent to see what might be amiss;\nbut Master Will, who peeped out first, needed no more than one glance.\nHe gave way to the others very readily and retreated unperceived by the\nSquire and Mistress Fitzooth to the rear of the tent.\n\nCries of: \"A Nottingham! A Nottingham!\" rent the air, and added to the\nclangor of bells and trumpetings. As the Squire and Robin looked forth\nthey beheld a flying crowd of men and women, all running and shouting.\n\nBefore them fled the stroller and his three sons, capless and terrified.\nThe old man's triangle had been torn from him and was being jangled now\nby Nottingham fingers.\n\n\"There is trouble before us. Come, Robin,\" said Montfichet, as he\nstepped out, with the lad close at his heels.\n\n\"What is the tumult and rioting?\" cried out the Squire, authoritatively,\nand he blew twice on a silver whistle which hung at his belt.\n\nThe strollers rushed at once toward the old man, and faced their enemies\nresolutely when they had gained his side. They were out of breath, and\ntheir story was a confused one.\n\nThe little tumbler recovered first. After the Squire had left them, he\nsaid, the Nottingham lad had returned with full a score of riotous\napprentices, all armed with cudgels. They had demanded a fresh trial of\nskill for the Squire's purse of pennies.\n\n\"Which was denied us in most vile words, lording,\" cried out one from\nthe crowd, which had come to a halt and was now formed in an angry\nsheepish ring about the front of the wizard's tent.\n\n\"Nay, we refused their request most politely, most noble,\" said the\nlittle stroller. \"And then they became vexed, and would have snatched\nyour purse from us. So my brother did stow the pennies quickly into his\nwallet, and, giving me the purse----\"\n\n\"You flung it full in my face!\" roared the Nottingham wrestler, pushing\nhis way to the front, \"you little viper, so I snatched at him to give\nhim the whipping he deserved, when----\"\n\n\"I could not see my boy injured, excellence, for but doing his duty as\none of Cumberland's sons. So I did push this fellow.\"\n\n\"It is enough,\" said George Gamewell, sharply, and he turned upon the\ncrowd. \"Shame on you, citizens,\" cried he; \"I blush for my fellows of\nNottingham. Is this how you play an English game: to force your rivals\nto lose to you any way? Cumberland has won my purse: the test was fairly\nset, and fairly were we conquered. Surely we can submit with good\ngrace.\"\n\n\"'Tis fine for you to talk, old man,\" answered the lean, sullen\napprentice. \"But _I_ wrestled with this fellow and do know that he\nplayed unfairly in the second bout. Else had I not gone down at the\nclutch, as all did see.\"\n\n\"Insolent!\" spoke the Squire, losing all patience; \"and it was to _you_\nthat I gave another purse in consolation! Go your ways ere I cause you\nto be more soundly whipped than your deserts, which should bring heavy\nenough punishment, for sure. Come to me, men, here, here!\" He raised his\nvoice still louder. \"A Montfichet! A Montfichet!\" he called; and the\nGamewell men who had answered to his first whistling, now lustily threw\nthemselves upon the back of the mob.\n\nInstantly all was uproar and confusion, worse than when they first had\nbeen startled from the wizard's tent. The Nottingham apprentices struck\nout savagely with their sticks, hitting friend and foe alike. The\nburgesses and citizens were not slow to return these blows, and a fierce\nbattle was commenced.\n\nThe strollers took their part in it with hearty zest now that they had\nsome chance of beating off their foes. Robin and the little tumbler\nbetween them tried to force the Squire to stand back, and very valiantly\ndid these two comport themselves.\n\nThe head and chief of the riot, the Nottingham apprentice, with clenched\nfists, threatened Montfichet. Robin and the little stroller sprang upon\nthe wretch and bore him to the ground. The three rolled over and over\neach other, punching and pummelling when and where they might. Robin at\nlast got fairly upon the back of their enemy and clung desperately to\nhim; whilst the stroller essayed to tie the man's hands with his own\ngarters.\n\nThe riot increased, for all were fighting now in two great parties;\ntownsfolk against apprentices. The din and shouting were appalling.\nRobin and the little tumbler between them rolled their captive into the\nwizard's tent.\n\nThe Squire helped to thrust them all in and entered swiftly himself.\nThen he pulled down the flap of canvas, hoping that thus they might not\nbe espied. \"Now, be silent, on your lives,\" he began; but the captured\napprentice set up an instant shout.\n\n\"Silence, you knave!\" cried Montfichet. \"Stifle him, Robin, if need be;\ntake his cloth.\" He felt for and found the wizard's black cloth.\n\nThe Squire was quite out of breath. \"Where is our wizard friend?\" he\nwent on, peering about in the semi-darkness. \"Most gentle conjurer, we\nwish your aid.\"\n\nBut Master Will had beaten a prudent retreat through the back of the\ntent. The canvas was ripped open, letting in a streak of light. They\nleft their prisoner upon the ground, and cautiously drew near the rift.\n\nThe noise without showed no abatement. The fighting was nearer to the\ntent, and the bodies of the combatants bumped ever and anon heavily\nagainst the yielding canvas.\n\n\"They will pull down the place about our heads,\" muttered the Squire.\n\"Hurry, friends.\"\n\nJust then Robin stumbled over the skeleton of the ape, and an idea\nseized suddenly on his brain, and, picking himself up, he clutched the\nhorrid thing tightly, and turned back with it. Thrusting open the proper\nentrance of the tent, Robin suddenly rushed forth with his burden, with\na great shout.\n\n\"A Montfichet! A Montfichet! Gamewell to the rescue!\"\n\nHe held the ape aloft and thrust with it at the press. The battle melted\naway like wax under a hot sun at the touch of those musty bones. Terror\nand affright seized upon the mob, and everywhere they fell back.\n\nTaking advantage of this, the Squire's few men redoubled their efforts,\nand, encouraged by Robin's and the little stroller's cries, fought their\nway to him. The tumbler had come bounding to Robin's side and made up in\ndefiant noise that which he lacked in strength of arm. The tide was\nturned, the other strollers and the Gamewell men came victoriously\nthrough the press and formed a ring about the entrance to the wizard's\ntent.\n\nRobin, still brandishing his hideous skeleton, wished to pursue the\nbeaten and flying rabble; but the Squire counselled prudence.\n\n\"You have done right well, Robin of Locksley, and dearly do I love you\nfor your courage and resource. George Montfichet will never forget this\nday. Here let us wait until the Sheriff's men come to us. I hear them\nnow, come at last, when all the fighting's done.\"\n\n\"What is your name, lording?\" asked the little stroller, presently.\n\n\"Robin Fitzooth.\"\n\n\"And mine is Will Stuteley. Shall we be comrades?\"\n\n\"Right willingly, for between us we have won the battle,\" answered\nRobin. He had taken a liking to this merry rogue; and gave him his name\nwithout fear or doubt. \"I like you, Will; you are the second Will that I\nhave met and liked within two days; is there a sign in that?\"\n\n\"A sign that we will be proper friends,\" replied the stroller.\n\nMontfichet called out for Robin to give him an arm. The Squire, now that\nthe danger was over, felt the reaction; and he had strange pains about\nhis breast.\n\n\"Friends,\" said Montfichet, faintly, to the wrestlers, \"bear us escort\nso far as the Sheriff's house. It will not be safe for you to stay here\nnow. I would speak with you later, since notice must be taken of this\naffair. Pray follow us, with mine and my lord Sheriff's men.\"\n\nHe spoke with difficulty, and both Robin and Mistress Fitzooth were much\nperplexed over him. The party moved slowly across the scattered Fair;\nnor heeded the mutterings and sour looks of the few who, from a\ndistance, eyed them.\n\nNottingham Castle was reached, and admittance was demanded. When the\nSheriff heard who was without his gates he came down himself to greet\nthem. He was a small, pompous man, very magnificent in his robes of\noffice, which he was wearing this day in honor of the Fair. In the early\nmorning he had declared it open; and on the last day would bring his\ndaughter to deliver the prizes which would be won at the tourney.\n\nMaster Monceux, the Sheriff of Nottingham, was mightily put about when\ntold of the rioting. He protested that the rogues who had conspired to\nbring about this scandal should all be thrust into the stocks for two\nwhole days, and should afterwards be scourged out of the city. He was\nprofuse in his offers of hospitality to his guests; knowing Montfichet\nto have a powerful influence with the King. And Henry might return to\nEngland at any moment.\n\nThe strollers and the Squire's retainers had been told to find\nrefreshment with the Sheriff's men-at-arms in the buttery. Robin\npleaded, however, with the Squire for little Will to be left with them.\n\n\"I like this impudent fellow,\" he said, \"and he was very willing to help\nus but a little while since. Let him stay with me and be my squire in\nthe coming tourney.\"\n\n\"Have your will, child, if the boy also wills it,\" Montfichet answered,\nfeeling too ill to oppose anything very strongly just then. He made an\neffort to hide his condition from them all, and Robin felt his fingers\ntighten upon his arm.\n\n\"What is it, dear patron?\" Robin asked, anxiously.\n\n\"Beg me a room of the Sheriff, child, quickly. I do think that my heart\nis touched with some distemper.\"\n\nRobin ran to the Sheriff.\n\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"my patron is overcome of the heat and commotion. He\nprays that you will quietly grant him some private chamber wherein he\nmay rest.\"\n\n\"Surely, surely!\" said the Sheriff. \"Ay, and I will send him a leech--my\nown man, and a right skilful fellow. Bid your master use this poor house\nas he would his own.\" The Sheriff spoke with great affectation. \"In the\nmeantime I will see that a proper banquet is served to us within an\nhour. But who is this fellow plucking at your sleeve? He should be in\nthe kitchen with the rest.\"\n\n\"He is my esquire, excellency,\" returned Robin, with dignity.\n\nMistress Fitzooth had been carried off by the Sheriff's daughter and her\nmaids as soon as they had entered the house, so that Robin alone had the\ncare of Montfichet. With Will Stuteley's assistance they brought the old\nman safely to the chamber allotted them by the fussy Sheriff. Robin was\nglad when, at length, they were left to their own devices.\n\n\"'Tis a goblet of good wine that the lording requires to mend him,\" said\nthe little stroller. \"I'll go and get it, Robin Fitzooth.\"\n\nThe wine did certainly bring back the color to the Squire's cheeks.\nRobin chafed his cold hands and warmed them betwixt his own. Slowly the\nfit passed away, and George Montfichet felt the life returning to him.\n\n\"'Twas an ugly touch, young Robin. These escapades are not for old\nGamewell, lad; his day has come to twilight. Soon 'twill be night for\nhim and time for sleep.\"\n\nThe Squire's voice was sad. He held Robin's hand affectionately, as the\nlatter continued his efforts to bring back warmth to him.\n\n\"But I will do some proper service for you, child. You shall not find me\none to lightly forget. Will you forgive me now? I will return to\nGamewell soon as I may and there rest for a few days.\"\n\n\"I'll take you, sir. It will be no disappointment to me. I have seen all\nthat I wish of Nottingham Fair.\"\n\n\"You shall return for the tourney; and if your father will give you\nleave, young Cumberland, you shall become my Robin's esquire. No thanks;\nI am glad to give you such easy happiness. Arm me to the hall, Robin; I\nam myself again, and surely there is a smell of roasted meats!\"\n\n\"You are a worthy leech, Will,\" presently whispered Robin. \"The wine has\nworked a marvel. Come, follow us, and forget not that I still will\nwrestle with you! Ay, and show you some pretty tricks.\"\n\n\"Unless I have already learned them!\" retorted young Stuteley, laughing.\nThen, becoming serious, the little stroller suddenly bent his knee.\n\"I'll follow you across the earth and sea, master,\" he murmured,\ntouching Robin's hand with his lips.\n\nHe lightly sprang to his feet again, seeing that Montfichet now\nimpatiently awaited them. Together they made their way to the banquet\nspread in the Sheriff of Nottingham's wide hall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n\nSquire George of Gamewell rested at his ease in the comfort of his own\ndomain during the next day; and, though he would have Robin go into\nNottingham, with his new esquire and Warrenton--Montfichet's own\nman--young Fitzooth was more than content to stay near to his patron's\nside.\n\nThere had been no difficulty in the matter of Master Stuteley's\ndetachment from the other strollers. The old tumbler was shrewd enough\nto see that his son would considerably better his fortunes by joining\nthem with those of Robin of Locksley. Will was delighted, and wished to\ncommence his duty in Robin's service by instructing his young master at\nonce in the arts of wrestling, single-stick, and quarter-staff.\n\nThe Squire laughed at their enthusiasm.\n\n\"Do you leave me, Robin, to the care of your mother: I warrant me I'll\ncome to no harm!\" he said. \"There are matters on which I would talk with\nher, and we must be at peace.\"\n\nMontfichet dismissed them. He was quite restored by this time, and\nsettled himself to a serious conversation with his sister.\n\nThere were subjects which he touched upon only to her--being a secret\nman in some things, and very cautious.\n\n\"Having now no son, and being a lonely man,\" he had written in his\nletter, and Dame Fitzooth had known from this that unhappy relations\nstill existed between George of Gamewell and Geoffrey Montfichet, his\nonly son.\n\nThe two men had been for a long time on unfriendly terms, though the\nSquire latterly had sought honestly to undo that which had been years\na-doing. He could not own to himself that the fault was his altogether:\nbut Geoffrey, exiled to London, had been brought back to Gamewell at his\nfather's entreaty. For a time things had gone on in a better\ndirection--then had come Prince John's rebellion.\n\nGeoffrey Montfichet was found to have been implicated in it, and had\nbeen condemned to death. Only by the Squire's most strenuous endeavors\nhad this sentence been commuted by the King to life punishment. Geoffrey\nfled to Scotland, whilst the Squire had been exercising himself on his\nerring son's behalf. It was the last straw, and George Montfichet\ndisinherited his son. The hard-won Manor of Gamewell must pass from the\nline.\n\nSquire George had suddenly perceived a chance to prevent that\ncatastrophe. He had taken greatly to the lad Robin Fitzooth: and this\nboy was of the true Montfichet blood--why should he not adopt the\nMontfichet name and become the Montfichet heir?\n\nThis notion had been simmering in the Squire's mind. It had been born at\nthat moment when Robin had so cared for him and fought for him in\nNottingham Fair. \"Here, at last,\" said the Squire, \"have I found a son,\nindeed.\"\n\nMistress Fitzooth had to listen to her brother's arguments submissively.\nThe dame saw stormy days for her ahead, for well she guessed that Hugh\nFitzooth would never agree to what the other in his impetuous way was\nproposing. She listened and said \"yea\" and \"nay\" as the occasion\noffered: once she mentioned Geoffrey's name, and saw Gamewell's face\ncloud instantly with anger.\n\n\"He is no son of mine,\" said Montfichet, in a hard voice. \"Do not speak\nof him here, sister Nell--nor think me an unforgiving man,\" he hastened\nto add, \"for God knows that I did humble myself to the ground that I\nmight save his head from the axe of the King's executioner! And he\ndisgraced me by running away to Scotland on the very night that I had\ngained Henry's pardon for him. Nay; I have no kin with cowards!\"\n\n\"Geoffrey may have some reasonable excuse, brother mine,\" began the\ndame, anxious to make peace.\n\nGamewell cut her short. \"There can be no excuse for him,\" he said,\nharshly.\n\nHis voice softened when he talked of Robin, for he was concerned to gain\nhis point.\n\n\"Fitzooth will be difficult in the matter, I do fear me,\" murmured the\ndame, perplexed and ill at ease. \"He is a Saxon, George, and thinks much\nof his descent and name. He looks to Robin winning fame for it, as in\nolden days. I do misdoubt me sorely.\"\n\n\"Well, let the lad be known as Robin Fitzooth Montfichet--'tis but\ntacking on another name to him,\" said the Squire. \"If he lives here, as\nI shall devise in my will, right soon will he be known as Gamewell, and\nthat only! That fate has befallen me, and one might believe me now as\nSaxon as your Hugh, Nell.\"\n\n\"You are none the worse for't, George,\" answered the dame, proudly.\n\"Either race is a kingly one.\"\n\n\"Saxon or Norman--shall Robin become Montfichet?\" asked the Squire,\ncommencing his arguments again.\n\nFate had in store for young Robin, however, very different plans from\nthose tormenting Fitzooth the Ranger and old Squire George of Gamewell\nHall.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe two lads strolled arm-in-arm about the wide court of Gamewell,\nfollowing Warrenton, in dutiful mood. The old henchman was very proud of\nthe place, and had all the legends of it at his fingers' ends. He told\nyoung Robin of hidden treasure and secret passage-ways, and waxed\neloquent concerning the tapestries and carvings.\n\nThe hours went pleasantly enough, for, after the building had been duly\nshown them, Warrenton took Robin about the gardens and orchards. There\nwas a pleasance, and a \"Lady's Bower,\" wherein, Warrenton affirmed,\nwalked a beautiful lady once in every twelve months, at Hallow-e'en, on\nthe stroke of midnight. The old man then left them.\n\nVery shocked was the old retainer to find these merry lads engaged\ntogether, later, at wrestling and the quarter-staff, as if they had been\nequals in birth. When Stuteley had thrown Robin thrice at \"touch and\nhold,\" within sight of the hall--it was indeed upon the soft grass of\nthe pleasance--Warrenton looked to see old Gamewell thundering forth.\n\nWhen the Squire came not, and Robin nerved himself for yet another\ntussle, the retainer shrugged his shoulders and even took an interest in\nthe matter.\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN WRESTLES WILL STUTELEY AT GAMEWELL\n\n_\"Catch him by the middle,\" he shouted. \"Now you have him, lording,\nfairly. Throw him prettily!\" And sure enough Stuteley came down._]\n\n\"Catch him by the middle,\" he shouted. \"Now you have him, lording,\nfairly. Throw him prettily!\" And sure enough Stuteley came down.\n\n\"Does Master Gamewell play at archery here, Warrenton?\" Robin asked,\npresently, when he and Will were tired of wrestling. \"Are they not\ntargets that I see yonder?\"\n\nThe old man's eye lit up with pride. \"Squire's as pretty a marksman as\nany in Nottingham, lording, for all his years!\" cried he. \"And old\nWarrenton it was who taught him. Yon target is a fair mark for any shaft\nfrom where we stand. Yet I dare swear that Gamewell's lord would never\nmiss the bull in fifty shots at it!\"\n\n\"Have you bow and quiver here?\" inquired Robin, eagerly. \"Mine I have\nleft in my room.\"\n\n\"Cross bow, longbow, or what you will, most noble. All that Gamewell has\nI am to give you. Such were my master's commands. An your esquire will\nrun to the little hut near by, within the trees, he will find all that\nwe need.\"\n\n\"Go, Will. Haste you, and bring me a proper bow,\" cried Robin, with\nsparkling eyes. \"Now I'll bend the yew and see if I cannot do better\nthan in Sherwood.\"\n\nMaster Stuteley, having journeyed to the hut, peeped in and started back\nwith a cry of affright.\n\n\"The Yellow Woman, Robin!\" called he, scampering back to them. \"She is\nin there, and did snatch at me! Let us run, quickly!\"\n\n\"Beshrew me, master, but this is an adventure, for sure! The Yellow One,\nwas it? Then your days are numbered, and we had better be seeking a new\nesquire,\" said Warrenton.\n\n\"Are you afraid, Warrenton?\" said Robin, moving involuntarily nearer to\nhim. He glanced from one to the other, undecided whether to believe Will\nor stand and laugh at his fears.\n\n\"I have had the distemper, master, and cannot again be hurt. But here\nshe comes, by the Lord! Keep near to me, lording, and shut your eyes\ntight.\"\n\nRobin was too dazed to heed the old man's advice. He glared in a\nfascinated way at the figure emerging from the hut.\n\n\"It is a man,\" cried Robin, at last, \"and listen--he is calling you,\nWarrenton.\"\n\nThe retainer uttered a little sound of astonishment and ran forward.\n\"Sir--sir,\" he cried, as if in entreaty, to the man approaching: and he\nmade a gesture as though to warn him.\n\nThe \"Yellow Lady\" appeared to be in doubt both of Robin and young\nStuteley.\n\n\"Who are these, Warrenton?\" called out a low, hushed voice.\n\nWarrenton answered not, save with his half-warning, half-commanding\nsign. But as the stranger drew near, apparently come to a decision, the\nSquire's man spoke.\n\n\"It is your cousin, Master Geoffrey, and his esquire. They are here from\nLocksley.\"\n\n\"So, 'tis my kinsman, Robin, who has tried to startle me?\" said the\nstranger, as Robin drew near to him. \"Greetings, cousin; here's my hand\nto you for all that you come to supplant me. Nay! I bear no ill-will.\nGamewell has no charms in my eyes compared with those of a life of\nfreedom.\"\n\n\"Is it Geoffrey, indeed?\" asked young Fitzooth, gazing with both eyes\nwide. He had looked to see his cousin young as himself, and here was a\nman before him, bearded and bronzed, of nigh thirty summers. He was clad\nin sombre clothes, and wore upon his shoulders a great scarlet cape, cut\nextravagantly in the Norman fashion. Suddenly Robin laughed, heartily\nand frankly.\n\n\"Yellow, Will, _yellow_, forsooth? Are you color-blind, friend? Cousin\nGeoffrey, we had believed you none other than the yellow-clad damsel who\nwalks here at Hallow-e'en. Forgive us the discourtesy, I pray you. Here\nis my hand and good fellowship in it. I am to relinquish all right to\nGamewell ground at the end of a year an I like--such were your father's\nterms. I do doubt whether I may stay so long as that.\"\n\nHe spoke fearlessly. The two cousins embraced each other, and for an\ninstant Geoffrey gave play to his better self; then, next moment,\nsuspicion returned upon him.\n\n\"I am but come to see you, Warrenton, on a small matter. I must have a\nhorse and armor and a lance, that I may ride at Nottingham in the\njoustings. I shall be disguised, and will wear my visor down: a hungry\nwolf prowling unrecognized about his lord's domain.\"\n\nHis speech was bitter and his voice harsh. \"Kinsman,\" added he, to\nRobin, \"do you keep still tongue in the business, and tell your squire\nto be as discreet. I am outlawed in England and have no right in it----\"\n\n\"That is not so, Geoffrey; surely your father will forgive----\"\n\n\"It is in the King's hands, cousin. My father has no voice in it, nor\nwould desire to speak again for me, I trow. I have heard all that he\nhath already done in my behoof, Warrenton--the item was brought to me\ncircuitously. Now I will keep you no longer: this hut has been and will\nbe my shelter until the horse and arms are brought here to me.\"\n\n\"I'll saddle him myself for you, coz: and choose you as stout a lance as\nGamewell can provide. Let me help you in this, and be to you always a\ntrue friend.\"\n\n\"You speak soothly, young Robin, and it may be with sincerity. I'll\ntrust you then.\" Geoffrey drew him on one side. \"See that the trappings\nand armor be of good steel and furbished with red leather: let the note\nof them be steel and scarlet. No device upon the shield, if you should\nthink to bring me one; and stay, I would like the sword-hilt and the\nlance to be bound in red. Thus may you know me, if so be you are at the\njousts; but be secret, and trust no other man than Warrenton. I'll wait\nyou here at midnight--have no fear of the yellow ghost, kinsman!\"\n\n\"You'll be as red as she is yellow, cousin,\" whispered back Robin, with\nsmiling face. \"I'll do your behest, and attend you in this pleasance\nto-night at twelve o' th' clock. My squire can be trusted, I well\nbelieve.\"\n\n\"Believe in no man until you have tried him, coz,\" answered Geoffrey. He\npaused. \"Does Master Montfichet keep well in health, kinsman?\" he asked.\n\n\"He is well, now, but has been indisposed.... Yesterday at\nNottingham----\"\n\n\"Ay, I heard of the doings there--no matter how,\" muttered the other,\nhastily. \"Tell me that he is restored again; and that you will keep him\nfrom harm always as valiantly as you did then. Does your father still\nguard the forest at Locksley? 'Tis many years since I have seen Master\nFitzooth, but thy mother hath always been kindly disposed to me.\nFarewell.\"\n\nHe nodded to Warrenton, and slipped back to the little hut, and they\nheard him push the bolts after him. Robin turned to Stuteley.\n\n\"Will, speak not of this meeting with anyone save Warrenton. I have\npromised for you.\"\n\n\"Right, master; the matter has already passed from my mind. Shall we try\nour skill at archery? Warrenton can find me a bow, and I'll fetch yours\nfrom the hall. Here comes a priest; surely he were good mark for us had\nwe our arrows here! And with him behold a forester of the\nKing--green-clad and carrying a royal longbow. Do you beg it of him,\nmaster mine, whilst I seek yours. I go.\"\n\nYoung Stuteley hurried across the green, whilst Robin advanced to meet\nthe Clerk of Copmanhurst and the captain of the King's Foresters. They\nwere in earnest converse, and clearly had not spied the gay cloak of\nGeoffrey Montfichet.\n\nWarrenton, with significant gesture to Robin, began a lecture on the\nmaking and choosing of arrows, as he walked beside his master's guest.\n\n\"Are you talking of arrow-making, friend?\" asked the forester,\noverhearing them. \"Now I will tell you the true shape and make of such\nshafts as our Will o' th' Green uses,\" he struck in. \"One bare yard are\nthey in length, and are sealed with red silk, and winged with the\nfeathers of an eagle.\"\n\n\"Peacock,\" corrected the clerk, interposing. \"You're wrong, Master Ford,\nas I will prove. Here is the head of one of Will's bolts, dropped in the\ngreenwood on the day you rescued us from him. I have kept it in my\npouch, for 'tis a pretty thing.\" He laughed all over his jolly face.\n\"Here, Robin, keep it, and learn therefrom how _not_ to make arrows, for\nvanity is a sin to be avoided and put on one side. The plainer the barb\nthe straighter does it fly, as all true bowmen must admit.\"\n\nHe took Robin's hand, soon as the lad had fastened the trophy in his\nbelt. \"I have been bidden to you by the Master of Gamewell. He would\nspeak with you, Robin; and I do counsel you to give all heed and weight\nto his words, and be both prudent and obedient in your answerings to\nhim.\"\n\nThey moved together towards the hall, whilst Warrenton and the forester\nargued still on the matter of winging arrows.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n\nIt was Warrenton who brought Master Geoffrey his red-armored steed and\nlance, after all; for, although Robin had had a voice in the choosing of\nthe horse, and had helped the retainer to bind the shaft and interlace\nthe cuirass and gyres with riband such as the knight had ordered, events\nstayed Robin from going out with these appurtenances of war to the\nLady's Bower.\n\nYoung Fitzooth had been commanded to his mother's chamber so soon as he\nhad come out from his converse with the Squire. There befell an anxious\ninterview, Mistress Fitzooth arguing for and against the Squire's\nproject in a breath. Robin was perplexed indeed: his ambition was fired\nby the Squire's rosy pictures of what he, as a true Montfichet, must\nadhere to without fail upon assuming the name and mantle of Gamewell.\n\nMost of all Robin thought of his father. What would he counsel? \"Remain\nFitzooth, and fight your own way in the world, boy.\" That is what he\n_might_ say. In the end Robin decided to sleep upon the matter. In any\ncase he would not consent to rob Geoffrey of his inheritance; and he\ntold old Gamewell this to his face. \"When I am gone you can do what you\nwill with the place, boy,\" the old man had answered. \"I have no son;\nbut, of course, the fees and revenues will be yours. If, for a whim, you\nbeggar yourself, I cannot stay you. But take it whilst I live; and wear\nMontfichet's shield in the days when my eyes can be rejoiced by so\nbrave a sight, for you will ne'er disgrace our 'scutcheon, I warrant me.\nPerchance 'tis Geoffrey's sole chance that _you_ should wear the badge\nof Gamewell. I might choose to bequeath it elsewhere.\"\n\nThe lad had checked him then. \"Never that, sir,\" he had said. \"Let\nGamewell land be ruled, for ever, by Gamewell's proper lord. I pray you\nto let me take counsel with my mother ere I answer you.\"\n\n\"It is what I would suggest myself. Go to her.\"\n\nThen had come the argument with his mother, which had unsettled him more\nthan before.\n\nHe went down to discuss with Warrenton and Stuteley the means by which\nthey best could bring the horse and arms to Geoffrey, and it soon became\nevident that no one other than Warrenton dare attempt it, for fear of\nbetraying the son to his still angry father.\n\n\"Are you sure, Warrenton, that you will perform this business right\ncarefully?\" Robin asked, over and over again, until the old servant\nbecame vexed.\n\n\"I am part of the house of Montfichet, lording,\" snapped Warrenton, at\nlast, \"and it is not reasonable to think that I will turn against\nmyself, as it were. Be sure that the horse and his trappings will be\nsafely carried to my second master, Geoffrey, at the hour given. Do you\nkeep the Squire employed in talk; and find excuse to lie in the little\nroom next to his own that you may hear him if he moves.\"\n\nSo Robin and Will went back to the hall, and presently the Squire's\nvoice was heard through the arras which covered the north entrance to\nthe apartment. He was in deep converse with the clerk, and entered the\nhall holding him by the arm. For a moment Robin and Will were\nunperceived; then the Squire's bright, keen eyes discovered them.\n\n\"Now to bed, boy!\" cried he, dropping his detaining hold of the priest.\n\"'Tis late; and I go myself within a short space. Dismiss your squire,\nRobin, and bid me good e'en. An early sleeper maketh a sound man.\"\n\n\"Did I see you with Warrenton, Robin Fitzooth?\" put in the clerk,\ncuriously. \"I would fain have some talk with him on the matter of\narchery. I am told that this old man can draw as pretty a bow as any in\nNottingham.\"\n\n\"As any in England, I would say,\" said Gamewell, proudly. \"That is, in\nhis day. Now that age is upon Warrenton and his master, cunning in such\nmatters is to seek. Yet he will teach you a few tricks when morning is\ncome. Now kiss me, boy, and keep clear head and ready hand for the\njoustings and games to-morrow. Good night; God keep thee, Robin.\"\n\nHe seemed to take it for granted that Robin would, in the end, consent\nto become of the house of Gamewell. Already Squire George looked upon\nhim as heir to the hall and its acres; even as slowly did Warrenton, the\nshrewd and faithful man-at-arms. Truth to tell, the old servant did not\nregard the prospect with too kind an eye.\n\nYoung Fitzooth embraced his uncle, and bade him good night with real\naffection. There was no chance to alter his sleeping-room to one nearer\nto Gamewell's chamber.\n\nWhen he had reached his chamber, again came the suspicion of Warrenton.\nRobin unfastened his tunic slowly and thoughtfully. Presently he\ncrossed the floor of his room with decided step.\n\n\"Will,\" cried he, softly; and Stuteley, who had chosen his couch across\nthe door of his young master's chamber, sprang up at once in answer.\n\n\"Do you hold yourself ready, Will, so soon as the house is asleep. We\nwill go out together to the bower; there is a way down to the court from\nmy window. Rest and be still until I warn you.\"\n\nStuteley replied in a word to him; and, blowing out his taper, Robin\nreturned to his bed and flung himself upon it in patient expectation.\n\nThe hours passed wearily by, and movement could yet be heard about the\nhall. The open lattice gave entry to all sound from the court below; and\nfrom his window Robin could tell when the tapers in the hall were\nextinguished. Thrice he got up from his bed, and his stock of patience\nwas slipping from him.\n\nAt last all was quiet and black in the courtyard of Gamewell.\n\n\"Will,\" whispered Robin, opening his door as he spoke, \"are you ready?\"\n\nStuteley nodded as he entered on pointed toes.\n\n\"From the window,\" explained Robin, pushing him towards the lattice. A\nfaint starry radiance illumined the sky, and dim shadows held the angles\nand nooks of the court below them.\n\nA dense ivy clung to and covered the walls of the house. To one of light\nand agile body it gave fair footing. Robin had hands and feet in it in\na moment; and cautiously, adroitly came to the ground, and signalled to\nWill Stuteley.\n\nThe little ex-tumbler would have liked to have done tricks and shown his\ncleverness in the business, had there been time for it: as it was, Will\ndropped beside Robin lightly and easily, and instantly the two began to\ncross the court.\n\nIt was necessary for them to climb over the stables at their left hand.\nSome dogs, hearing these quiet, stealthy footfalls, began to bay\nfuriously: and both the youths stayed themselves until the beasts went\ngrumbling and suspicious back to the kennels.\n\nThey then renewed their journey, and, under the better light, made a\nsafe crossing of the stable-roofs.\n\nThey managed at length to win the gardens, and then raced across the\nopen ground to gain the shelter of the yew-trees bordering the bower.\nThe pleasance, in the soft moonlight, looked ghostly enough: the statues\nand stone ornaments placed about the place seemed to be instinct with\nlife and to wave signals of horror to Will's starting eyes.\n\nAt last they approached the hut, and Robin saw in the bright moonlight\nthat the door gaped black at them. There was no sign to betray either\nWarrenton or Geoffrey to him. Robin entered the hut, dragging the\nunwilling esquire after him.\n\nA draught of chill air puffed in their faces as they entered; and a\ngreat owl blundered screamingly out into the night, the rush and noise\nof it startling Will to a cold ecstasy of terror. He would have plunged\nmadly back to the hall had not Robin held firmly to him.\n\n\"Be not so foolish, friend,\" said Fitzooth, crossly. His voice took his\nfather's tone, as always happened when he was angered.\n\nThey moved thereafter cautiously about the hut, groping before and about\nthem to find something to show that Warrenton had fulfilled his mission.\nPresently Will stumbled and fell, pulling down Robin atop of him.\n\nRobin, putting out his hand to save himself, found that his fingers\ngrasped nothing but air. They were upon the verge of an open trap, in\nthe far corner of the hut; and Stuteley had tripped over the edge of the\nreversed flap-mouth of this pit. Fitzooth's hand rested at last upon the\ntop rung of a ladder, and slowly the truth came to him. Quickly he drew\nhimself up and whispered the discovery to the other.\n\nIn an instant, then, their fears were dispelled. Will would have gone\ndown first into the pit had not Robin stayed him. Stuteley was anxious\nthat his young master should come to no harm; and where a danger\nappeared an earthly one, he was quite willing to bear the brunt of it.\nIt was thought of the Yellow Woman which dried up all the courage in his\nsmall, wiry body.\n\nRobin carefully descended the ladder and found himself soon upon firm\nrocky ground. Stuteley was by his side in a flash: and then they both\nbegan feeling about them to ascertain the shape and character of this\nvault. Hardly had they commenced when Robin's quick ears took warning.\nSound of a quiet approach was plain.\n\nThe darkness of the pit was suddenly illumined, and the lads found\nthemselves suddenly faced by the beams of a lanthorn suspended at about\na man's height in the air. From the blackness behind the light they\nheard a voice--Warrenton's!\n\n\"Save me, masters, but you startled me rarely!\" cried he, waving the\nlanthorn before him to make sure that these were no ghosts in front of\nhim. \"I have but this minute left Master Montfichet, having carried his\nhorse to him in safety. He rides into Nottingham to-morrow, unattended.\nI would that I might be squire to him!\"\n\n\"Did you indeed bring horse and arms down this ladder, Warrenton?\"\nenquired Robin, with his suspicions still upon him. \"Truly such a horse\nshould be worth much in Nottingham Fair! I would dearly have loved to\nsee so brave a business----\"\n\n\"Nay, nay, lording,\" answered Warrenton, with a half-laugh. \"See\"--and\nagain he waved his light, showing them where the underground passage,\nfor such it was, sloped upward to another and larger trap, now closed.\n\"This way is one of the many secret ones about Gamewell, master: but do\nyou keep the knowledge of it to yourselves, I beg, unless you would wish\nhurt to our future lord of Gamewell.\"\n\nWarrenton spoke thus with significance, to show Robin that he was not to\nthink Geoffrey's claims to the estate would be passed by. Robin Fitzooth\nsaw that his doubts of Warrenton had been unfair: and he became ashamed\nof himself for harboring them.\n\n\"Give me your hand, Warrenton, and help me to climb these steps,\" said\nhe, openly. \"'Tis dark, for all your lamp; and I fain would feel\nfriendly assistance, such as you can give.\"\n\nHis tones rang pleasantly on Warrenton's ears, and forthwith a\ngood-fellowship was heralded between them. This was to mean much to the\nyoung hero of Locksley in the time to come; for Warrenton's help and\ntuition were to make Robin Fitzooth something far better than the clever\nbowman he was already. This night, in a way, saw the beginning of\nRobin's fortunes and strange, adventurous after-life.\n\nThe old servant told him quietly as they crept back to Gamewell that\nthis passage-way led from the hut in the pleasance to Sherwood; and that\nGeoffrey for the time was hiding with the outlaws in the forest. \"Our\nmaster is to be recognized by us as the Scarlet Knight at Nottingham\nFair should one ask of us, lording,\" Warrenton told him. \"He implores us\nto be discreet as the grave in this matter, for in sooth his life is in\nthe hollow of our hands.\"\n\nThe old servant spoke no more. In silence he led them back into Gamewell\nby the private door through the stables by which he had himself emerged.\n\nThey regained their apartment, apparently without disturbing the\nhousehold of Gamewell. Only did one pair of eyes and ears look and\nlisten for them, and observe both their exit and return. It was the\nClerk of Copmanhurst's door that stood ajar; his busy mind that employed\nitself in speculation as to the cause and meaning of this midnight\nadventure.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n\nGeoffrey Montfichet's reason for wishing to be known as the Scarlet\nKnight was no idle whimsey, as the others had guessed.\n\nTo John's rebellion against his father, Henry of England, the younger\nMontfichet had given himself body and soul. The Prince had shown him\nkindness, and now that the rebellion had failed, Geoffrey felt it\nincumbent upon him to remain with the beaten side, and endeavor to\nrecover the advantage lost to them. To this end he now journeyed through\nthe Midlands in many disguises, trying to stir up the outlaws and\nrobbers of the forests to take up arms with John, under a promise that\nthe Prince (if successful) would grant them amnesty and a goodly share\nof the spoils sure to fall to them.\n\nA spy was to attend at Nottingham Fair to know how matters had\nprogressed with the outlaws of Sherwood; but, since it was too dangerous\nto attempt an open meeting, Geoffrey had arranged a simple code of\nsignalling, by color.\n\nDid he appear as a knight unknown and disinherited, bound on his arms\nand steed with red trappings, the spy, eyeing him from beside the\nSheriff of Nottingham, would know that Will o' th' Green was to be\ntrusted, and would promptly bear the joyful news to his Royal Master.\nHad sad black been the note, John's man would have guessed that friends\nwere still to seek about Nottingham.\n\nThus we know that Master Will had more reasons than one for appearing\nas a wizard at Nottingham Fair. He had gone here chiefly to bear a\nscroll to the Prince's emissary, and to declare fealty to John; but the\naffair of the tumblers and Robin's discovery of him had warned Master\nWill not to stay over long in the town, so Geoffrey had to depend upon\nhis plan of appearing as the Scarlet Knight.\n\nThe morning broke dull and threateningly over Gamewell. Robin and his\nesquire slept late; but no one offered to disturb their slumbers. The\nmonk knew full well that there was good cause for his pupil's fatigue;\nand had set himself to discover the true meaning of it. \"Boy,\" said he\nto Robin, \"I pray that you do not think upon Nottingham to-day. There\nwill be a storm and much rain. The mud in the meadows of Nottingham will\nsurely spoil the bravery of the Fair, and show us too plainly how\ntrumpery and vain a matter it is.\"\n\n\"For that cause alone will we go, dear friend,\" retorted Robin. \"It will\nbe a lesson to us. With you beside us to point the moral, much benefit\nshall accrue, for sure. Father,\" Robin added, \"come with us now to the\npleasance. There Warrenton is to show me how to notch arrows and pick a\ncourtly bow.\"\n\n\"I have no great wisdom in the game, boy; yet readily will I go with\nyou.\"\n\nThe three of them went in search of Warrenton; and found him with the\ncaptain of the foresters.\n\nDame Fitzooth and the Squire followed later to the pleasance, and there\none and all tried conclusions. Robin soon found that Warrenton could\nteach him much; and he was too anxious to excel in the conduct of the\nbow to neglect this chance of learning the many secrets of it. \"Men\nshall talk of you\"--Fitzooth's own words to him--always rang in his\nheart whenever he drew the cord and fitted ash across yew.\n\nWarrenton took great pleasure in showing Robin some of the tricks in\nwhich he was so perfect; and explained them so well that ere an hour had\ngone the lad had learned and mastered them.\n\n\"Lording,\" said the old servant, watching him as he essayed successfully\nan exercise shown him but a few minutes before. \"Lording, I do not doubt\nthat you will carry away with you to-day the Sheriff's prize from the\nolder bowmen of Nottingham! You have a keen eye for it, and your fingers\nseem comfortable upon the yew--which is the sign and mark of a good\narcher. Now, bear in mind this golden rule: that the feet are to be\nplaced at true angles, with the line of the mark running, as it were,\nfairly through the heels: thus,\" and he took the position, fitted an\narrow to his bow, and, scarce looking towards the target, flew his shaft\nso straightly as to pierce the very center of the bull. \"Try now to\nnotch the arrow,\" said Warrenton, with pardonable pride.\n\nRobin shook his head and laughed.\n\n\"Ay, but you shall make far _better_ than that, lording, an I have the\nhandling of you!\" cried Warrenton. \"Now take this bow and these arrows\nwhich I have chosen; and we will set forth for Nottingham. We have an\nhour's journey.\"\n\nOn the way to Nottingham, Robin's mind was so full of all that had\nlately happened that he lagged behind the others and at last found\nhimself quite alone.\n\nThis was where the road curved through the last of the forest about\nNottingham. Warrenton and Master Ford of the foresters were at a renewed\ndiscussion on longbow against crossbow; and Will Stuteley had become so\ninterested in the matter as to have poked his little horse between the\nothers. Robin trotted his steed to come up with them; then, suddenly\nspying a brooklet among the trees upon his left hand, found himself\nmightily athirst. He slipped from off the back of his grey jennet and\ntethered the beast by the roadside.\n\nThe brook was fouled near the highroad from the passing of heavy carts\nand wagons, so Robin pushed down it into the thicker wood.\n\nFinding that now the stream ran pure and limpid, Robin flung himself\nflat among the bracken and rushes, and dipped his face in the cool\nwater. He drank heartily, and lay there for a while in lazy content, hid\nby the undergrowth and bracken.\n\nA whinnying from his jennet warned him at length that he must push on\nwith speed if he intended to rejoin the others ere Nottingham gate was\nreached. Robin turned himself about, preparatory to rising, then hastily\nshrank back into the shelter afforded by the ferns.\n\nTwo men approached noiselessly through the forest. They carried bows and\nwere clad in russet brown. Robin, in that brief glimpse, recognized two\nof Master Will's free-booting band.\n\nThe outlaws walked side by side in earnest conversation. Their\nmutterings were at first unintelligible to Robin; but, by hazard, they\npaused close to where he lay hid. Young Fitzooth knew that he would have\nsmall chance with these fellows should they espy him.\n\nSaid one, an evil-looking man, with a dirty grizzled beard: \"Our Will\nseems to me, friend Roger, to be of open heart towards this youngling.\nHe has given him the key of the forest at first word, as if the place\nwere free to all. Had _you_ the knowledge of it so soon, Roger? Tell me,\nlad.\"\n\nHe spoke sneeringly and with meaning. Robin strained his ears to\ndistinguish the other's reply. \"Friend,\" said Number Two, at last, and\nspeaking in a smooth, milky sort of way, \"friend, I would rather counsel\nyou to adopt a persuasive argument with the Scarlet Knight, should we\nchance on him. I would have no violence done, an it may be avoided,\nbeing a man opposed to lawlessness in heart, as you know. It is my\neternal misfortune which has brought me to this life.\"\n\n\"Tush! 'tis for murder of an old man at York! I know your story, Roger;\nseek not to impose upon me.\"\n\n\"He was a Jew, dear friend, and did grievously provoke me. But we have a\nmatter in hand. This man has doubtless been sent in to spy upon us. I\nhave no belief in the faith of these Norman nobles. Further, he has upon\nhis head a goodly sum of money, as I well know. Wherefore, if chance\nshould yield him to our hands, it would seem right and proper that we\nshould bind him.\"\n\n\"Ay, hard and fast, Roger. You have it.\"\n\n\"Bind him with a vow, Micah, but not with ropes and wickedness. Yet\nshould your dagger inadvertently prick him----\"\n\n\"Be sure that it will, Roger. Some inward voice warns me that it will.\"\n\nThe other made a sign to the last speaker to speak more quietly. Robin\ncocked his ears in vain, but he had heard enough to show him that the\nshadow of a great evil was stalking behind his cousin, and without\nfurther thought decided that he must save him.\n\nThe two villains stood together a plaguey time perfecting their plans,\nand Robin dared scarcely breathe. Once, when he attempted to wriggle his\nway through the bracken, at the first sound of movement both men had\nbecome utterly silent, showing that they had heard and waited to hear\nagain.\n\n\"A squirrel, friend,\" said the one called Roger at last, and Robin took\nheart again.\n\nHowever, knowing that presently they must espy his jennet tethered by\nthe road, Robin became desperate. He writhed his body snake-like through\nthe ferns until he came to the edge of the brook; then, covered by the\nnoise of the falling water, essayed to creep up the course of the\nstream.\n\nThe distance from the road could scarcely have been two hundred ells,\nbut it seemed to Robin more like to a league. He got his feet and legs\nwet and bemired; and cut his hands over the rocks about the brook. Yet\nhe came nearer and nearer still to the roadway without having given\nalarm.\n\nRobin saw at length the close turf which bordered the road, and spied\nhis little grey horse. Forthwith he rose to his feet and made a bold\ndash for it.\n\nThe jennet was untethered and Robin upon its back in a flash; then the\nlad heard the whizz of an arrow past him. He bent his head down close to\nthe neck of his jennet and whispered a word into its ear. The little\nmare, shaking herself suddenly to a gallop, understood; and now began a\nrace between bow and beast.\n\nThese outlaws were no common archers, for sure. Twice did their shafts\nskim narrowly by Robin and his flying steed; the third time a sudden\npricking told the youth that he was struck in the back.\n\nHe had no time for thought of pain. Everything depended on the beast\nunder him. He pressed his legs softly but firmly against her streaming\nsides.\n\nShe was more swift in the end than the cruel arrows. Robin saw the\ncountryside flashing by him through a cloud of dust; saw that Nottingham\ngate was reached; that a party with surprised faces watched his furious\napproach. The little mare swayed and rolled as she went, and Robin came\nto the ground, with the outlaw's arrow still in him. He was conscious\nthat someone ran to him and lifted him tenderly: he perceived dimly,\nthrough circling blackness, the anxious face of Stuteley.\n\n\"Are you hurt, dear master?\" he seemed to see, rather than hear, him\nsay.\n\nThen Stuteley, Nottingham, and reason fled swiftly together, and the day\nbecame as night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n\nWhen he recovered himself Robin found them binding his shoulder. He\nsmiled up at Warrenton to show that the hurt was little. \"Are we too\nlate for the joustings, Will?\" he murmured, spying out Stuteley's face\nof concern.\n\n\"We are to bring back the golden arrow with us which the Sheriff has\noffered as prize to the best marksman,\" answered Warrenton, before the\nother could speak. \"Now, you are to remember all that I have shown you,\nand shoot in confidence. Now come: the gates of Nottingham are opened,\nand your wound is neatly bandaged. Here is the arrow plucked from it:\nkeep it for a trophy.\"\n\n\"Is it a pretty shaft, Warrenton?\" asked Robin, carelessly, as the old\nservant thrust it into his quiver.\n\n\"It is one of Will's own, and that suffices.\"\n\nAfter Master Ford had briefly bidden them farewell, they left their\nbeasts in charge of a fellow inside the gate, bidding him give the\nlittle grey jennet all care and attention.\n\nHere, also, Robin got himself washed and made tidy for the Fair, and had\nsome meat and drink to restore him. He found that it was to the long\nNorman cape he wore that he owed his life. The outlaw's arrow had been\ndiverted by the flapping garment, and had only pricked him in the fleshy\npart of his shoulder. The cape was so ripped, however, as to become\nridiculous in its rags, so Robin asked for the loan of a pair of\nshears, and with them trimmed the cape so ruthlessly in his haste as to\nmake it become more like an old woman's hood.\n\n\"You have turned Saxon out of Norman very suddenly, master,\" laughed\nyoung Stuteley.\n\nIt was a full three hours past noon ere they came to the Fair. A great\nring had been made in the centre of it, and huge wooden stands had been\nbuilt about this circle. They were covered finely with cloth of red and\ngold; and many flags and banners were flying above the tops and about\nthe stands.\n\nThe blare and discord of trumpets rang out over the noise of the people.\nA great clamor of voices betokened the arrival of some great man at the\nfront of the chief stand.\n\n\"The Sheriff has arrived,\" cried Stuteley, who knew the ways at these\naffairs. \"Hear how the people do cheer him! For sure he must be a man\nwell liked----\"\n\n\"These fellows will applaud anyone who has power and office,\" said\nWarrenton, scornfully. \"Master Monceux is _not_ beloved of them, for all\nthat. But hasten, or we shall be shut out. Already they are closing the\ngates.\"\n\nThe clouds were heavy and grey, and a few large drops of rain began to\npatter down.\n\n\"Look to our bows, Warrenton,\" cried Robin, in alarm.\n\n\"Be easy, lording--your bow shall not be at fault if the prize does not\nfall to your hand. Follow me.\"\n\nThey were now at the wicket, and Warrenton produced his authority.\nGamewell's name was enough. They were ushered into a small box near by\nthe Sheriff's own, and there awaited events.\n\nFirst came bouts of single-stick and quarter-staff, and Master Will was\nkeen to take part in these contests. Warrenton counselled him to remain\nin the background, however.\n\n\"The folk are sure to recognize you, malapert,\" said he, giving Stuteley\nhis favorite name for him, \"and there will be an outcry. Let be, then,\nand attend to your master.\"\n\n\"It would be better, Will, I do think,\" said Robin. \"I have to find out\ncousin Geoffrey, and warn him against two villains waiting for him\nwithout the town.\" And Robin gave them briefly the history of his\nadventure.\n\nEre he had ended the story, the Sheriff held up his baton as a sign that\nthe jousting would begin. Two knights rode into the ring through the\nhastily opened gates, heralded by their esquires--amid the noise of a\nshrill blast of defiance. They were clad in chain-mail, bound on and\nabout with white riband, and their armor was burnished in a manner most\nbeautiful to behold. Their esquires threw down their gauntlets before\nthe box of Master Monceux, and challenged the world to a trial of\nstrength in these the lists-magnificent of Nottingham town.\n\nTwo black knights had ridden into the lists in answer to the challenge;\nand now all clamor was hushed. The Sheriff's daughter, a pale,\nhard-faced girl, with straw-colored hair and mincing ways, announced in\ninaudible voice the terms of the contest. The heralds repeated them\nafterwards in stentorian tones; and the rivals wheeled about, the white\nknights couching their lances from under the Sheriff's box. The others\nprepared themselves at the wicket-gate and waited for the signal.\n\nThis was given, and the four rushed together with a shock like a\nthunder-clap. These four knights gave good account of themselves.\n\nThe black knights had been unhorsed, and now they lay helpless in their\nheavy armor. Once on their feet, they were eager to renew the fray, and\nwere soon again in readiness. At the second tilt they rudely unhorsed\nthe white knights by sheer strength of arm; and all the people shouted\nthemselves hoarse.\n\nSo the jousting went on; and, after the white knights had eventually won\nthe first round, yellow and red took their places. Robin eagerly scanned\nthe latter, trying to discover which of the two might be Geoffrey. A\nsmall, thin-faced man behind the Sheriff was no less eager to discover\nMontfichet in this favorable apparel; and evidently had sharper eyes\nthan had Robin in piercing disguise. This wizened-faced fellow leaned\nback with satisfied smile, after one searching glance; then, drawing out\nhis tablets, he wrote on them, and despatched his man in haste to London\ntown.\n\nGeoffrey was unhorsed in the second tilting; and lay so long upon the\nground that Robin's heart stood still. It was then discovered that this\nknight was unknown and had no esquire. Thus Robin knew him for his\ncousin.\n\n\"Attend him, Will, as you would myself,\" cried Robin, anxiously, \"and\nsee now to his hurt----\"\n\n\"He is but dazed, master, with his fall. It seems that these knights are\narmored so heavily that once down they cannot of themselves rise up\nagain! Protect me from such war-gear! I'd sooner have my own skin and be\nable to be spry in it. What say you, old Warrenton?\"\n\n\"Go to, malapert. Get down to him, and be as active with your hands as\nyou are with your tongue.\"\n\n\"I go, I go--see how I go!\" and Will turned a somersault over him into\nthe ring out of the front of their box. Robin called angrily on him to\nbehave, and the little tumbler ran then to his duties as servant to the\nunknown Scarlet Knight.\n\nRobin's eager eyes roved hither and thither about the gay scene.\nOpposite him was a small box near to the ground, wherein sat two people\nonly. One was a grave-faced man of courtly mien and handsome apparel:\nthe other seemed to be his child.\n\nTowards one of these two persons Robin's glances for ever wandered. The\nlaughing blue eyes of the girl, the queer little toss of her head which\nshe gave in her unheard answers to her sober father, heartily pleased\nyoung Fitzooth, and in some way vaguely disturbed his memory. She was of\nabout fifteen summers; and her hair was black as a winter's night--and\ncurled all waywardly around her merry face. Blue were her eyes when the\nquick fever induced by the tilting rushed in her blood--blue as meadow\nviolets. Then, when the excitement was passed, they fell to a grey\nwonderment. Twice she encountered Robin's glances; and the second time\nher eyes shone blue, as if ashamed, and the tint of her warm cheeks\ndeepened. Demurely she turned away her face from him.\n\nYoung Fitzooth turned to Warrenton: \"Can you tell me who these may be\nwho sit alone in yon little box?\" he asked, and cautiously pointed them\nout to the old retainer.\n\nWarrenton was stupid, however, and would not see exactly where Robin\nwould have him look. At last, as one making a discovery: \"Oh, 'tis\nMaster Fitzwalter you mean, lording? Ay, a right worthy, honest\ngentleman; and warden of the city gates. Next of importance in\nNottingham town is he after Monceux, the Sheriff; and a prettier man in\nall ways. Now, were he Sheriff, Squire George of Gamewell would oftener\nbe in Nottingham Castle than now, for we like not the Sheriff. The maid\nwith Master Fitzwalter is his only child. She has no mother; and he is\nboth parents to her. Ay, a proper man----\"\n\n\"She is very beautiful, I think,\" said Robin, speaking his thoughts\nalmost without knowing it.\n\n\"Yes, yes, a passable wench. But I have no faith in them, lording. They\nare all as the Yellow One of Gamewell. They smile upon you that they may\nwork their will; and evil comes of their favor, if not death. Now\nsee----\"\n\n\"You are crabbed, indeed, Warrenton; and I'll hear no more. Do you know\nher name?\"\n\n\"Fitzwalter, lording. Did I not say this was his child?\"\n\n\"Has she no other name?\" persisted Robin, patiently.\n\n\"Oh, ay ... let me see. 'Tis Judith, or Joan, or some such name. Mayhap,\n'tis Catherine. I do misremember it, lording: but 'tis surely of no\naccount. The archery is now to begin; and here I would have you give\nheed----\"\n\nHe recommenced his cautions, warnings, and hints--being anxious that\nRobin should shine to-day for Gamewell's sake.\n\nRobin saw that the jousting was done, and that, after all, the red\nknights were conquerors. It fell to Geoffrey to ride forward and accept\nthe coveted laurel wreath. Dipping his lance, Geoffrey caused his\ncharger to bend its knees before the regal-looking box: and Master\nMonceux, after an inflated speech, placed the circlet of bays upon the\nend of Geoffrey's lance. Then the unknown knight for a brief instant\nraised his vizor. The lean-faced man near to the Sheriff's right hand\nexchanged a quick glance of understanding with the knight.\n\nThe Sheriff nodded to give the knight to understand that he was\nsatisfied. With closed visor the scarlet one then paced his steed slowly\nand in quiet dignity around the lists, followed dutifully by Stuteley,\nuntil they had returned to the Monceux box. Again saluting gracefully,\nhe extended his lance, with the wreath still depending from it, towards\nthe Sheriff, as it seemed.\n\n\"Does he return the wreath, and wherefore?\" asked Robin, in puzzled\nvoice.\n\n\"To her to whom the wreath is yielded our Sheriff will award the title\nof Beauty's Queen,\" explained Warrenton. \"'Tis a foolish custom. Master\nGeoffrey, in this matter of etiquette, knows that the trifle should go\nto young Mistress Monceux. Otherwise, the Sheriff would have him beaten,\nno doubt; or injured in some shameful way upon his departure from the\nlists.\"\n\n\"So that is the rule of it, eh, Warrenton?\" said Robin. \"I would like to\nchoose my own Queen----\"\n\n\"It matters not one jot or tittle to young Master Montfichet. See--the\nwreath has been duly bestowed and the Sheriff will announce his girl\nQueen, until the night, of Beauty in all Royal Nottingham. There will be\nsome further mummery when the golden arrow is won. Doubtless, the winner\nwill have to yield it up to Monceux's girl again, on a pretence that\nall is hers, now she is Queen. So shall my lord the Sheriff keep his\nprize after all; and be able to offer it again next year----\"\n\nRobin checked the garrulous old man with a gesture.\n\n\"Now give me my bow, Warrenton,\" commanded young Fitzooth, somewhat\nroughly; \"and do you tell me how I am to enter myself in the lists.\"\n\n\"Your esquire should announce you,\" returned the other, respectfully.\n\"See, here he comes----\"\n\n\"The Red Knight would thank you, master, for your courtesies,\" said\nStuteley, approaching Robin. \"He will wait for us at Nottingham gate;\nand prays that you will accept the chargers of the unhorsed knights from\nhim. They are his by right of conquest, as you know.\"\n\n\"I will accept them, and thank him for the gift,\" returned Robin,\nbriefly, guessing that this was the reply that Geoffrey would desire him\nto make. \"Now tell the heralds that Robin of Locksley will enter for the\nSheriff's prize. Give no more of my name than that, Will,\" he added\nwarningly, in a lower voice.\n\nStuteley vanished, and Robin turned again to the lists. The Sheriff's\ndaughter had already been crowned, and sat now in supercilious state in\nthe Sheriff's own seat. Geoffrey had gone, and Fitzwalter's box was\nempty.\n\n\"I'll not shoot at all,\" said Robin, suddenly. \"Go, Warrenton, bring\nback Stuteley to me. I have changed my mind in the matter.\"\n\n\"Does your wound fret you, lording?\" asked Warrenton, solicitously.\n\"Forgive me that I should have forgot----\"\n\n\"Nay--'tis not that at all. I have no wish to shoot. Fetch Will to me.\"\n\nIt was too late. Stuteley had already given in Robin's name to the\nheralds, and signified that he would shoot first of all. He came into\nthe box even as Warrenton went out for him.\n\nHalf-angrily, Robin took the bow from the retainer's hands and slung his\nquiver about him. He strode moodily across the lists to the spot where\nthe other archers had already gathered. When they saw this youngling\nwith his odd little cape preparing himself, they smiled and whispered\ntogether. Robin strung his bow and slipped an arrow across it.\n\nThe crowd became suddenly silent, and this nerved the lad to be himself\nonce more. He forgot his momentary vexation and aimed carefully. His\narrow flew surely to the target and struck it full in the middle. \"A\nbull! A bull!\" roared Warrenton and Stuteley, together. Robin stepped\nback.\n\n\"None so bad a shot, master,\" said the next archer to him, in a quiet\ntone. \"You have provided yourself now with a truer shaft, I ween?\"\n\nIt was Will o' th' Green, with stained face and horse-hair beard. His\neyes challenged Robin's in ironical defiance, as he moved to take his\nturn. His aim seemed to be made without skill or desire to better\nRobin's shot; yet his arrow found resting-place side by side with the\nother.\n\nThe mob cheered and applauded themselves hoarse; while the markers\nscored the points evenly to these first two archers.\n\nThese two stood apart, silent amidst the din. Once Will seemed to be\nabout to speak: then changed his mind. He glanced sidelong at young\nStuteley and Warrenton; then hummed a ballad-tune under his breath.\n\nThe contest went on and the first round came to an end. Out of twenty\nand three rivals nineteen had scored bulls at this range. The markers\ngave the signal to the heralds, and these announced the results with\nloud flourishings.\n\nThe target was taken down and the range increased. The range of the mark\nfrom the archers for the second round was fixed at forty ells--the same\ndistance as had chanced before between Robin and Master Will when in the\ngreenwood together. The outlaw offered to shoot first; but the heralds\nrequested them to keep in the same order as in the preceding round.\n\nRobin fitted his arrow quietly and with some confidence to his bow, then\nsped it unerringly towards the target. \"A bull! Another bull to\nLocksley!\" cried out Warrenton, in stentorian tones, and the fickle mob\ntook up the cry: \"Locksley! A Locksley!\" with gusto.\n\nWill aimed with even more unconcern than before. His arrow took the\ncenter fairly and squarely, however; and was in reality a better shot\nthan Robin's. The shafts were withdrawn; then the other contestants\nfollowed. This round brought down the number of competitors to five. The\nmarkers carried back the target to a distance of five-and-fifty ells;\nand truly the painted circles upon it seemed to be now very small.\n\nRobin again took his stand, but with some misgiving. The light was\nuncertain, and a little fitful wind frolicked across the range in a way\nvery disturbing to a bowman's nerves. His eyes half-anxiously addressed\nthemselves to that box wherein he had spied Mistress Fitzwalter.\n\nHis heart leaped--she had returned, and her strange gaze was fixed upon\nhim! Robin drew his bow and flew his shaft. Unconsciously he used the\narrow plucked from his own shoulder by Warrenton.\n\nAgain did he gain the center, amid the cries and jubilations of Stuteley\nand the old retainer.\n\n\"Now Master Roughbeard, better that!\" shouted Warrenton.\n\nThe outlaw smiled scornfully and made ready. He drew his bow with ease\nand a pretty grace, and made a little gesture of confidence as his agile\nfingers released the arrow. It leaped forth rushingly towards the\ntarget, and all eyes followed it in its flight.\n\nA loud uproar broke forth when the markers gave their score--an inner\ncircle, and not a bull. Master Will made an angry signal of disbelief;\nand strode forward down the lists to see for himself. It was true: the\nwind had influenced a pretty shot just to its undoing, and Will had to\nbe content with the hope that the same mischance might come to Robin or\nany of the other bowmen before the round was ended.\n\nThe outlaw wished especially to win--that he might have the satisfaction\nof vexing the Sheriff of Nottingham. Will had intended to send back this\nprize--a golden arrow--from his stronghold of Sherwood, snapped into\ntwenty pieces, with a letter of truculent defiance wrapped about the\nscraps. He wished to make it plain to Master Monceux that the free\narchers of Sherwood were better men than any _he_ might bring against\nthem, and that they despised him very heartily. Now that he saw a\nlikelihood of his being beaten his heart grew hot within him.\n\n\"Be not too sure of it, stripling,\" said he, as he returned to Robin's\nside. \"Fortune may mar your next shot, as she has mine----\"\n\n\"'Tis like enough, friend,\" answered Robin, smiling; \"and yet I do hope\nthat the arrow may be won by my hand. This is our second test, Master\nWill,\" he added, in a low voice. \"Forget it not--the freedom of the\ngreenwood is the reward that I do seek even more than my lord the\nSheriff's golden arrow.\"\n\nThe outlaw's anger went suddenly from him.\n\n\"Then I do wish you God-speed, youngling,\" he said, brightly. \"You have\nin truth beaten me right honestly--for mine was an ill-judged shot.\"\n\nWith Will out of it, the contest came to an easy conclusion; and\npresently the Sheriff's arrow was duly awarded to Robin of Locksley by\nthe markers.\n\nThe lad came forward shyly to receive the prize.\n\n\"Master Monceux thinks that you should shoot once more with the second\narcher,\" said someone to him, leaning from the Sheriff's box. Looking\nup, Robin espied the lean-faced man smiling disagreeably down at him.\n\n\"Let my lord state the terms of this new contest, then,\" answered Robin,\n\"and the reason for't.\"\n\n\"'Tis said that you were over-favored by the wind and by the light.\"\n\nAn angry answer was upon the lad's lips: but he checked himself, and\nwith slow dignity turned and went back to where the archers stood\ngrouped together. Soon as he made known to him the difficulty which the\nSheriff had raised, Will o' th' Green became furious.\n\n\"Locksley, have none of this trumpery prize,\" cried he, in loud anger.\n\"I do deny my right to any share in it, or to a fresh contest. Nor will\nI shoot again. Let Monceux vex his brain as he may with rules and\nconditions--they are not for Roughbeard, or for you. We have our own\nnotions of right and justice; and since the Sheriff is loth to part with\nthe prize that he has offered--why, yield it back to him, friend--and\ntake the reward from me that you coupled with it.\"\n\nOther indignant protests were now heard from amongst the onlookers: and\nthe Sheriff saw that he had raised a storm indeed. \"Locksley! Robin\nLocksley!\" was shouted noisily round and about; and Warrenton and\nStuteley busily fostered the tumult. Master Monceux at last bade the\nheralds announce that Robin of Locksley had won the golden arrow--since\nthe archer who had made nearest points to him did not desire nor seek a\nfurther trial.\n\n\"Were it necessary, lording,\" muttered old Warrenton, \"I would show you\nhow to notch the arrow of the best archer here about--a merry trick, and\none that I learned in Lancashire, where they have little left to learn\nof archery, for sure.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" put in Roughbeard, loudly, \"the arrow is his without need of\nfurther parleyings. I do admit myself beaten this day--though on another\noccasion we will, perchance, reverse our present positions. Take or\nleave the arrow as you will, Locksley. For my part I would love to\nprick Monceux with it heartily.\"\n\n\"You talk wisely, friend,\" said Warrenton, approvingly, \"and, as for\nmaking a match with you, why, that will we to-day. Do you ride with us\nto Gamewell and there you shall have archery and to spare.\"\n\n\"Ay, and a welcome, too!\" commenced Robin; then paused suddenly,\nremembering who Roughbeard really was. Montfichet of Gamewell\nentertaining Will o' th' Green!\n\nThe outlaw merely laughed good-humoredly at the lad's confusion.\n\n\"Go, take the Sheriff's prize; and vex him in some way, if you can, in\nthe accepting of it!\"\n\nAgain Robin walked forward towards the Monceux box; this time with\nflashing eyes and a resolve in his heart.\n\n\"Robin of Locksley,\" said the Sheriff, scarce looking at him, \"here is\nmy golden arrow which I have offered as reward to the best bowman in\nthis Fair. You have been accorded the prize; and I do yield it to you\nwith sincere pleasure. Take the bauble now from our daughter's hand, and\nuse the arrow worthily.\"\n\nThe heralds blew a brazen blast, and the demoiselle Monceux, with a thin\nsmile, held out to Robin upon a silk cushion the little shining arrow\nwhich now was his. Bowing, and on one knee, Robin took up the glittering\ntrophy.\n\n\"Surely 'tis a plaything more suited to a lady's hair than to an\narcher,\" murmured the lean-faced man, who stood close by. Catching\nRobin's eye, he made a significant sign, as who would say: \"Here is the\nQueen who would adorn it.\"\n\nRobin had that other notion in his mind, however, and saw that now the\nmoment had arrived in which it should be put into execution. Somehow, he\ncontrived to bring himself before the small low box wherein,\nhalf-startled, sat the maid Fitzwalter.\n\n\"Lady,\" stammered the young archer, bowing to her, \"do you please accept\nthis little arrow which I have won. It is a pretty thing; but of small\nuse to me. Maybe you could make some ornament with it----\"\n\nThen he could go no farther; but dumbly held it out to her.\n\nThe girl, having seen that her father was not unwilling, stretched out\nand took the Sheriff's arrow from Robin's shaking hands.\n\n\"Thanks to you, Robin o' th' Hood,\" she said, with that roguish little\ntoss of her dark curls; \"I'll take the dart, and wear it in memory of\nLocksley and this day!\" Her eyes looked frankly into his for a brief\ninstant; then were hid by her silky lashes.\n\nRobin, with bounding heart, walked proudly back to where old Warrenton\nstood, glowing; and the people thunderingly applauded the archer's\nchoice.\n\n\"Right well was it done, Locksley!\" roared the outlaw, near forgetting\nhimself. \"I love you for it.\" For he saw only that the Sheriff had been\nslighted, and cries of: \"A Locksley!\" were renewed again and again.\n\nMaster Monceux looked furiously at this archer who had taken the prize\nwith only the briefest word of thanks to him: and would have spoken, had\nnot his daughter, with chilling gesture, forbidden it. She gave no\noutward symptom of the anger stirring within her: she wore her\nworthless but royal crown of bay, whilst the other toyed thoughtfully\nwith the golden arrow, and wondered who the gallant giver of it might\nbe.\n\nRobin, Warrenton, Stuteley, and Roughbeard rode towards the gate of\nNottingham on the horses of the defeated knights. They had decided to\nstay no longer at the Fair: the noisy play and mock-joustings that were\nto follow the archery had no attraction for them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\n\nThis escort saved Geoffrey from the attack planned upon him by the two\ntreacherous robbers. They spied him out, and followed the small\ncavalcade throughout the journey, but at a respectful distance, uttering\ndeep threats against the lad who had warned the knight of their evil\nintent. So, whilst making friends, Robin also made enemies: but none so\nbad as that cold-faced woman of Nottingham Castle. She had recognized in\nRobin of Locksley the youth who had come with old Montfichet on the\nfirst day of the Fair.\n\nNear by Gamewell, Roughbeard called a halt. He had been strangely\nsilent, being over doubtful.\n\n\"Farewell, friends,\" said he, doffing his cap to them. \"Here our roads\ndo part, for I must go further through the forest.\"\n\n\"I, too, have that direction before me, if so be that you are travelling\nwestward,\" said Geoffrey to him, with well-assumed diffidence, and\nspeaking through his casque. He had known the outlaw at once; but had\nforborne to show it, scarce dreaming that Robin also had pierced Will's\ndisguise.\n\nRobin became busy in his thoughts when he saw his cousin and Roughbeard\nriding off together like this. That secret way from the hut which led\ninto Sherwood; the two villains who had plotted against Geoffrey--why,\nall was clear! Geoffrey now was with them of the forest; had been\nseeking to influence Master Will; no doubt the red trappings upon which\nhe had laid such stress were as a signal to someone. To whom? And to\nwhat end?\n\nGeoffrey had been cool towards Robin when warned of those scheming\nagainst him. \"I can protect myself against such rabble, cousin,\" was all\nhe would say. \"But I would thank you for bidding your lad to me in the\njoustings; it was a matter I had overlooked that one must have an\nesquire. I'll not forget the courtesy.\"\n\nThat was all. He had shrunk back into himself again; and with closed\nvisor had ridden silently beside them. Yet he was not ungrateful; and\nhad begun to like Robin very honestly, only Geoffrey Montfichet must be\nvery sure of his man ere he would unbend to him.\n\nIt was already nigh on dusk as Robin rode into the court at Gamewell in\ndreaming abstraction. His thoughts had sprung back again from Geoffrey\nto the blue-eyed maid: and in cloudlands he saw himself her knight.\nWondrous and mighty would be the deeds that he should perform for her\ndear sake--did she bid him to them.\n\nThen he remembered Broadweald, and how he had sworn within himself to\nset his life to win that, for his father's happiness.\n\nAy: but surely in the winning of Broadweald there might chance smaller\nprizes, which properly he might yield for a smile from this fair maid?\nOr again, might not he battle for the two together?\n\n\"Robin, Robin!\" He heard old Montfichet's voice, calling from the shadow\nof the porch. \"Where are you, child? I did not espy you at the bridge.\nCome here, boy, and let me tell to you something of sorrow. There has\nbefallen a sad mischance to your father at Locksley----\"\n\n\"Sir, sir,\" cried poor Robin, waking suddenly, \"tell me not that he is\ndead!\" He sprang hastily from his grey steed and ran towards the Squire.\n\n\"No, not that.\"\n\n\"Ah, but my heart forewarns me. He has been hurt by some beast? It is\nthe season when the deer are wild.\"\n\n\"Master Fitzooth has been attacked by a great stag near by your home.\nThat is all we know of it, child; and I give it you plainly at once,\nthat you may hear the worst. Your mother has already gone to him, with\nthe clerk and a full two score of men. For the captain of the foresters\nhas kindly joined forces with mine own fellows; so that no further harm\nmay befall.\"\n\n\"I'll follow her, sir. Give me leave to go.\"\n\n\"'Twere wiser to wait till morning, boy. What could you do now? Mayhap\nwe fret ourselves too much, as 'tis. But you shall go, with Warrenton\nand your esquire, when morning is here. Ay, and I will come too; and we\nwill bring with us the most skilful leech in Nottingham. I have already\nsent a messenger to him, an hour since, so soon as the dame had gone.\"\n\n\"I like not my mother having been sent for, sir. That shows me that the\nhurt is deadly. To think that I was playing so foolishly at the moment\nwhen I might have been of use to him!\"\n\nSo rudely ended Robin's dreaming.\n\nIn the morning they set out for Locksley; the Squire with the leech, and\nsix mules bearing such delicacies as old Gamewell's generous mind could\nthink upon. Warrenton headed a full score of men, for fear of the\noutlaws; and they took a litter with them to bring Master Fitzooth to\nGamewell.\n\nThe dame met them at the latch-gate which Robin knew so well. Her face\nwas deathly pale and her mouth quivered as she tried to frame a welcome\nto them.\n\n\"Mother!\" cried Robin, in anguished voice, running to her; and there was\nno need for further speech. In that one cry and in the expression of her\nmute, answering face, the truth was told and understood. No use to fight\nfor Broadweald now; were it his a hundred times over, Robin could never\ndo that with it which he in all his boyhood had planned. Hugh Fitzooth,\nRanger of the Forest of Locksley, was dead.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe good Clerk of Copmanhurst, who had appeared from within the cottage,\ntold the story of Fitzooth's death. Fitzooth had been alone when the\nhuge wild stag had attacked him; was near his death when discovered by\ntwo of his men. He had regained consciousness only at the sound of his\nwife's voice; had kissed her with fainting breath; and, having labored\nto send Robin a message of love and pride in him, had gradually faded in\nspirit until the dawn.\n\nIt was an unhappy ending to a life soured by disappointment; yet somehow\nthis man had managed to win a way into the hearts of many people. The\nfew villagers of Locksley all had their tender word or humble tribute of\naffection to offer the dame and her sorrowing son; and thus much of the\nedge of their grief was blunted. Until the interment the priest stayed\nwith them, and so did old Gamewell, who paid all the fees and expenses\ninevitable in consequence of Fitzooth's decease.\n\nAfterward, the Squire would have them go back to Gamewell with him; but\nRobin had determined to ask for his father's post. This bitter time made\nthe lad into a man suddenly. It was the evening of the day when they had\nlaid Fitzooth to rest in the little churchyard of Locksley that\nMontfichet returned again to talk of his plan of making Robin his heir.\n\nThe old man argued reasonably and well; and Robin listened in silence\nuntil he was done. Then, \"Very generously and indulgently have you\ntalked with us, sir,\" said Robin, \"and sure thing it is that we owe you\nsuch debt as I can never hope to pay. Yet I cannot feel that 'twould be\na man's part to live an idle life. Surely I should do something, sir, to\nwin the right to wear your name? Moreover, I must not forget that there\nis another--nay, hear me, sir--thine own son, whose birthright I should\nbe stealing away from him.\"\n\n\"Boy,\" interrupted old Gamewell, on a sudden resolution, \"will you share\nGamewell with me as Geoffrey's brother, then? If so be this way out of\nit will meet your objections, I'll sink my prejudice. Geoffrey shall go\nhalves with you.\"\n\n\"That were the course nearer to my heart, sir; and yet not all that I\nwould desire. I have no right to talk to you so openly; but the matter\nis, in a manner, forced upon me.\"\n\n\"It is agreed then, Robin?\" cried the Squire, eagerly. \"And so you will\ntake your mother's olden name and become Montfichet of Gamewell?\"\n\n\"I would rather serve the King _here_ for one year, at least,\" said\nRobin, arguing still. \"You might think better on't, sir. Let me try my\nstrength or weakness; and find out myself for myself. My father would\nhave wished me to fight my own way in the world.\"\n\n\"The lad speaks soothly, Squire,\" said the clerk, interposing, \"and I\nwould counsel you to agree to his notions. Moreover, he has not yet\nfinished his studyings with myself in the Latin tongue.\"\n\n\"Leave me young Stuteley and Warrenton, sir, and your blessing, and let\nme win bread for my mother and myself for twelve months from to-day.\nThen, if I may, and you wish, I'll come humbly to you.\" Robin went over\nto him. \"And believe me always as being very grateful, sir. I would that\nI might not seem obstinate in this.\"\n\n\"Have it so, then, Robin. I'll bear your letter to Monceux myself, and\nrally him about the arrow which you won!\"\n\n\"Will the Sheriff appoint me, then?\" asked Robin, a trifle disconcerted.\n\n\"He will advise the King in the matter. 'Tis but a form. The post of\nRanger of Locksley is yours, merely for the asking. Who could gainsay\nyour right to it? Give me the letter; and I will be your messenger. I go\nto-morrow to Gamewell, and will journey to Nottingham the next day. Now,\nsince I understand that this holy man would wish to see you alone, and I\nwould like to talk with your mother, I'll leave you, boy. Count me\nalways as friend, Robin Fitzooth Montfichet.\"\n\nHe added the last word half-enquiringly, half-lovingly; and twinkled to\nthe clerk to see how Robin might take it. But the lad made no reply\nbeyond kissing the old man's fingers very respectfully and tenderly; and\nwith a sigh, old George of Gamewell offered his arm to the dame, who had\nsilently listened throughout the discussion.\n\nLeft alone, the clerk approached Robin. \"Now, boy, what I have to say is\nsoon told. Know then that I have learned of your adventures with the\nScarlet Knight; and that he is in league with Will o' th' Green.\nFurther, I have had it whispered to me that he is none other than\nGeoffrey of Montfichet. It matters not how this knowledge came to me; I\ndo but seek to warn you to tread gently and warily in the days now\nbefore you. So far, life has been kind to you, and surely there is no\nreason why you should not prosper very exceedingly. There is for you a\ngood friend in Gamewell's Squire.\"\n\n\"And one also at Copmanhurst, father.\"\n\n\"Assuredly, boy. But I am a poor anchorite and one unable to help you,\nsave by friendly counsel. Take heed not to touch Montfichet too nearly\nin the matter of his son,\" added he, warningly; \"he is a strange man,\nand will brook no meddling.\"\n\n\"I would not see Geoffrey wronged, father, not even by Robin of\nLocksley,\" said Robin, vehemently.\n\nThe clerk smiled at him. \"You may coax the Squire, an you will, boy,\"\nsaid he, twinkling; \"for I do think that one may achieve more that way\nthan by any other. But be careful not to let him see that you would lead\nhim; and, above all, provoke him not. Montfichet is an obstinate man.\nHis heart prompts him to forgive Geoffrey; and doubtless he could get\nthe ban removed from off the young man's head. But the Squire will not\nreadily forego his oath. So now, rest content that he will share\nGamewell with Geoffrey and yourself, and do not let him know that once\nyou did deceive him.\"\n\n\"Deceive him, father?\"\n\n\"Did you not go out secretly to meet the Scarlet Knight, boy? And do you\nnot now hide from Gamewell that his son is in hiding with Will o' th'\nGreen? Be prudent and tread no more in this path. Peace be with you,\nRobin Fitzooth; and discretion also.\"\n\nHe bade Robin good night, and set out towards his lonely cell near St.\nDunstan's shrine; leaving the other perplexed and distressed at his\nwords.\n\nThe first clouds on Robin's horizon were appearing.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\n\nSquire George left them next morning. He bade Warrenton stay at\nLocksley, and charged young Stuteley to let him know if the dame or his\nmaster should want for aught. Then, having pressed some money upon his\nsister to meet their necessities, he bade them affectionate farewell.\n\nHe took Robin's letter to Monceux, and added his own request to it,\nnever doubting that so ordinary a matter as this would be long a-doing.\nThe Rangership of Locksley Woods was Robin's by every right: for the\nhouse and garden had been given to Hugh Fitzooth in perpetuity by the\nKing. So at least they all had understood.\n\nMaster Monceux, lord Sheriff of Nottingham, took the letters and read\nthem with a thin smile; then bore them to his daughter's chamber, and\nlaid them before her. \"Truly the enemies of our King are not lacking in\naudacity,\" sneered Master Monceux, when Mistress Monceux had mastered\nthe scrolls.\n\n\"What will you do?\" asked she, curiously.\n\n\"This is the young archer who won my arrow,\" remarked the Sheriff.\n\"Robin Fitzooth of Locksley. Observe that his father has been killed by\none of the King's deer; like as not whilst he was attempting to snare\nit. His son asks now for the post: this son who shoots with a peacocked\narrow to win my prize.\"\n\n\"Say you so? Then this boy is of the outlaws of Sherwood?\" Her thin lips\nparted over her white teeth in an evil doubt, as she asked her father:\n\"How do you know that the arrow was winged with a peacock's feather? Did\nyou see it yourself?\"\n\n\"John Ford brought it to me.\"\n\n\"Ford is a very untrustworthy knave. I would that some other of the\nforesters had told you.\"\n\nThe Sheriff was vexed at this. \"I have no hesitation in the matter,\nchild. But give heed, for now I must either agree to this recommendation\nof my lord Montfichet, or refuse it because I have already appointed\nsome other to the place. Can you not suggest a man to me?\"\n\n\"Let it be one distasteful both to Montfichet and to this boastful\nyouth,\" said the demoiselle Monceux, eagerly. \"Send Ford, or one of the\nscullions from our kitchen, that they may know our contempt for them.\nAnd bid the young archer to us here; he should be whipped and put in the\nstocks,\" she added, vindictively.\n\n\"Will you reply to those scrolls then, child?\" said the Sheriff, glad to\nbe relieved of a task which he did not relish. \"Let it be Ford; he is\ncaptain of the foresters hereabouts, and has been staying at Gamewell. I\nhear that young Locksley is not over-fond of him. But be discreet in\nyour scrivening, and say only that which is necessary, child.\"\n\n\"I will bring the letters when they are penned, and will read them to\nyou,\" said his daughter.\n\nIn due course, then, came the Sheriff's reply to Robin's request. It was\ncouched in arrogant terms, and bade the youth report himself within ten\ndays at Nottingham Castle in order that the question of his appointment\nto a post in the King's Foresters might be weighed and considered. As\nfor the Rangership of Locksley, that had already been given to one\nMaster John Ford, who would take up the duties so soon as Robin and\nMistress Fitzooth could arrange to render him the house at Locksley and\nall it contained. To this end the Sheriff's messenger was empowered to\ntake stock and inventory of all furniture and belongings and to make\nnote of all things broken or in disrepair, since those would have to be\ncounted against them when they left the place.\n\nRobin, not knowing the worse indignities that were to befall did he come\nto Nottingham, for reply flung the letter into the messenger's face.\n\n\"Go, take back this answer to your master,\" flamed the lad. \"Locksley is\nmy mother's and my own and not the Sheriff of Nottingham's. Further,\ntell him that I will administer Locksley Woods, and the men shall obey\nme even as they did my father: and this is all that I say in answer to\nyour insolent lord.\"\n\n\"Take this also, fellow,\" cried Stuteley, heroically: \"that my master's\nsquire will very instantly do battle on his behalf with all enemies at\nquarter-staff, single-stick, or at wrestling with the hands.\"\n\n\"Be sure that you will need practice in all your tricks, friend,\"\nsnarled the messenger, wrathfully; \"Master Monceux will send you enough\nof pupils and to spare! And I will be glad to have a bout with you.\"\n\n\"Now, if you sicken for't,\" said Will, valiantly; but Robin bade him be\nstill.\n\nThe messenger went back to Nottingham; and Robin continued to go about\nthe duties of a ranger.\n\nOn the fifth day after the man's visit, however, one of the Locksley\nforesters refused to obey young Fitzooth, saying that he had no right to\ncommand him.\n\n\"I have this right, that you shall obey me!\" cried Robin, and he bade\nWarrenton and Stuteley to seize the man and deprive him of his longbow\nand quiver. Nor would he suffer the forester to become repossessed of\nthem until he had humbly asked pardon. Thereafter, seeing that this\nyouth had a man's determination, the men remained loyal to him.\n\nWithin ten days came Master Ford himself, at the head of ten fellows,\narmed with such powers of forcible entry as the Sheriff could grant.\nRobin received the forester civilly, but told him plainly that Locksley\nwas his and that he would keep it to his death.\n\nMaster Ford smiled very superior to these brave words. \"Death, Master\nRobin, is a thing a long way off from us both, I do conceive,\" said he.\n\"Therefore is there small valiance in your prating so lightly of it.\nThis matter is one not between ourselves, howbeit, for the Rangership\nhas come to me through no seeking of mine own. The quarrel, if there be\none, is between yourself and Master Monceux; and, in reason, you should\nlet me into possession here, and take your anger to Nottingham.\"\n\n\"I speak to the Sheriff in that I speak to you, John Ford,\" retorted the\nlad: \"and you have had your answer. Take back your men and yourself; be\ncontent with the captaincy of the foresters of Sherwood. This part of\nthe forest will be administered, under the King's pleasure, by me.\"\n\n\"What if I could show you the King's dismissal of your father?\" snarled\nthe other.\n\n\"If you could show it to me, you would,\" answered Robin, calmly.\n\n\"Nevertheless, I will show it to you, insolent,\" cried Master Ford,\nlosing his temper. \"In Nottingham we can play at other games than those\nyou saw at the Fair, Robin o' th' Hood,\" he went on, furiously, and\ngiving Robin this name out of desire to prick him.\n\nTo young Robin the epithet recalled a sudden vision of the maid\nFitzwalter and her queer little toss of her curls as she had christened\nhim. Ford must have been near to have overheard it. So was there double\ninsult in his words.\n\nRobin looked him full in the face, and then turned contemptuously from\nhim. \"Play all the games you know, friend,\" said he: and walked into the\nhouse.\n\nThe forester bit his lip in vexation. He scarce knew how to act. The\nSheriff had told him to take forcible possession of the house, but this\nmight only be done now after a sanguinary encounter. For Warrenton, the\nSquire of Gamewell's man, was there, and had eyed him malevolently, and\ntalk with the Locksley foresters had shown them to be now ranged on\nRobin's side.\n\nAfter waiting for three hours, Master Ford set about a return into\nNottingham, meaning to ask for permission to bring back the Sherwood\nforesters with him to Locksley. In his return he was met by Will o' th'\nGreen and his men near Copmanhurst, was beaten and robbed of all he had,\nand sent back in ignominious fashion into Nottingham town--he and all\nthe ten men that the Sheriff had sent with him!\n\nMaster Ford made a fine story of this for the greedy ears of Mistress\nMonceux. She had always disliked the maid Fitzwalter; and had now seen a\nchance to injure her through Robin. Since he had given this girl the\narrow which he had denied to her, the Sheriff's daughter, there could be\nno doubt that strong friendship, at the least, existed between them, so\nthat any blow at Robin must recoil upon Mistress Fitzwalter.\n\nDemoiselle Monceux therefore credited largely Master Ford's story.\n\n\"Go to the hall, and there await my father, Master Ford,\" said Mistress\nMonceux, at last. \"I will speak again with him when he has returned from\nGamewell. He is there now on your behalf, in a way,\" she added,\nmeaningly.\n\nMonceux, knowing that Montfichet would require an explanation of the\nrefusal to instal Robin in his father's place, had set himself out to be\nbeforehand with the Squire. At once he had endeavored to satisfy old\nGamewell by telling him the story of the peacocked arrow. \"Readily can I\nunfold that mystery to you,\" said Montfichet. \"Our Robin was pursued by\ntwo of the outlaws when on the way to your tourney. 'Tis like enough\nthat he picked up one of their arrows.\"\n\n\"When they were in chase of him?\" asked the Sheriff, with ready reply.\n\n\"Well, that is true; and yet, stay--I do mind me that the Clerk of\nCopmanhurst did speak of some shooting match in which Robin was forced\nto employ himself with Will o' th' Green, on the day that they journeyed\nhere from Locksley. Then it was that Robin must have become owner of the\npeacocked arrow. The thing is quite plain to me.\"\n\n\"The clerk himself has been suspected of colleaguing with these robbers\nof the forest, friend Gamewell,\" whispered the Sheriff, leaning forward\ntowards the Squire. \"And they do say that Will was at our tourney--was\nnone other, indeed, than the very Roughbeard from whom young Robin so\ncleverly did snatch my arrow of gold. Nay, nay, I think the evidence\npoints very strongly against Fitzooth; yet since he is your nephew I\nhave forborne to press my charge against him.\"\n\n\"I'll believe no harm of Robin,\" said the Squire, decisively.\n\n\"Still you will see there is reason in my refusal of his request,\"\nsmiled Monceux. And old Gamewell had to agree, although unwillingly.\n\nSo were the clouds upon Robin's horizon gathering apace.\n\nHe gravely continued in his duties at Locksley, filling up his leisure\nwith long and frequent practice in archery with Warrenton. A month went\nby and he had heard no more of Master Ford nor of the Sheriff, and so\nengrossed did Robin become in his present life and the necessity of\nmaking a living for them all that Master Monceux, his summons, and his\n\"appointment\" of Ford were forgotten.\n\nHe killed such of the deer as his father had, under the King's charter,\nfor their own sustenance, and gathered the fruits from the garden at\nLocksley. There were cows to be milked and sheep to be sheared.\n\nThe men worked for him without question. There had been no further\nrebellion since Warrenton and Stuteley had so promptly checked the first\nsign of it.\n\nThe Squire had sent twice to them such presents as he knew they would\naccept, and he made no mention of Master Monceux.\n\nOnly one matter troubled Robin. Soon would come round the time when the\nemoluments of the Rangership would be due; and _then_ Robin would have\nto face the Sheriff and make him pay the moneys.\n\nHaving stifled any objections Montfichet might have had to his refusal\nto recognize Robin as Ranger, the Sheriff was quite content to bide his\ntime, knowing that once in Nottingham, Robin would be entirely in his\npower. Unforeseen events, however, upset these schemes and hastened\nmatters, even while Robin was perfecting himself in the use of the\nlongbow under Warrenton and in the art of wrestling with little lithe\nStuteley. The lean-faced man whom he saw at the tourney returned\nsuddenly to Nottingham from London, bearing news to the Sheriff that he\nwas to prepare the town at once for a visit from the young Prince John.\n\nMaster Simeon Carfax, to give the lean-faced one his full style, bade\nthem arrange for a great tourney to be held in Sherwood itself.\n\n\"Certes, Prince John may well be King over us in the end,\" murmured the\nSheriff to himself; and he dismissed all thought of Robin and his\ndefiance.\n\nThe Sheriff had some suspicion that Master Carfax had had more to do\nwith this sudden visit of the erstwhile rebellious Prince than that\npinch-nosed gentleman would allow. Further, he saw with some misgiving\nthat between Carfax and his own daughter there was an understanding, and\nhe decided to speak firmly with her; but, as she was still vexed with\nhim for not having dealt with young Fitzooth as promptly as she had\ndesigned, the Sheriff thought it wise to wait his opportunity.\n\nMeanwhile Robin passed his days equably: and now he could notch\nWarrenton's shaft at one hundred paces, a feat difficult in the extreme.\n\nThe old retainer took huge delight in training the lad. \"I do hear of a\nbrave business in archery to be done in Sherwood Forest,\" he said, \"and\nI would have you enter there in the lists, and bear away the Prince's\nbag of gold, even as you did the Sheriff's arrow.\"\n\n\"Tell me of this, Warrenton,\" cried Robin, interested at once. \"Where\ndid you learn this item?\"\n\n\"'Twas told to me a week agone by the Friar of Copmanhurst, a right\nworthy, pious gentleman,\" gabbled Warrenton. \"It seems that the young\nPrince is already tired of London ways and the Court of his father the\nKing, and has agreed to come here to us at Nottingham so that he may be\nmore free. He brings with him many of the fine ladies of the Court; and\nfull a hundred score of followers. And they do tell me that some of the\nbarons are with him, Master Fitzurse to wit. Howbeit, 'tis no matter of\nours. We have but to remember that he has offered a purse of a hundred\npieces to the best bowman in Nottingham town. That purse should be\nyours, lording.\"\n\nRobin smiled at the old man's emphatic speech. \"When is this prize to be\noffered, Warrenton, and what other marvels are there to be?\"\n\nThe man-at-arms commenced afresh. \"There is to be a tourney, held in\nSherwood Forest.\"\n\n\"Ay; but the archery?\"\n\n\"I have told you that the Prince offers a fine prize. Know also that he\nbrings with him Hubert, the most renowned of all archers: so that he\ndeems the prize already won. The Prince puts a hundred gold pieces into\nthe purse, and Hubert pockets it in advance.\"\n\n\"Is he a fair bowman, this Hubert?\"\n\n\"I know but one archer better than he, lording--yourself; and I have\nseen the finest archery in the world.\"\n\n\"You talk heedlessly, Warrenton,\" said Robin, rebuking him. Yet secretly\nhe was flattered by this sincere belief in him.\n\n\"I'll go with you to Nottingham--and Stuteley shall stay here, on\nguard,\" said Robin.\n\nBut Stuteley begged most earnestly that he should be allowed to go also,\nso that Robin came nigh to giving up the plan all together. For he would\nnot consent to leave the dame unprotected.\n\nIn the end Warrenton himself, with fine self-sacrifice, offered to\nremain at Locksley.\n\n\"It will be wisest that you should go unattended, after all, lording,\"\nconcluded Warrenton. \"Enter the lists unknown, unannounced, as though\nyou were some forester. Master Monceux means no good to you, and surely\nhe will be there. So be circumspect; and forget not the things that I\nhave taught you. Beat Hubert if you can, but be not overcome if you\nshould fail. He is a very pretty bowman, and experienced.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\n\nProfiting by a lesson learned from Will o' th' Green, Robin stained his\nface and bade Stuteley do the same ere starting to the Royal tourney.\n\nThe morning was overcast and doubtful when the two lads set forth. They\nhad put on foresters' clothes of green cloth, with long tunics and green\ntrunk hose. Their hands and faces were brown as walnut juice could make\nthem; and whilst Robin carried only his best longbow and a good quiver\nof arrows, young Will had loaded himself with quarter-staff, axe, and\npike, all very difficult to carry.\n\nRobin bade him leave one or the other of these weapons, and reluctantly\nthe pike was returned to Warrenton. Then merrily they started away\nthrough the forest, and came at noon to that glade where Robin had first\nmet Will o' th' Green. Even while Robin wondered whether Will or his men\nmight again demand toll of him, Master Will himself suddenly appeared,\nand without a word placed his bow across their path.\n\n\"Greetings to you, Will,\" said Robin, blithely. \"Is it toll of us that\nyou desire?\"\n\n\"Are you dumb, friend?\" added Stuteley, impudently, as the outlaw made\nno immediate reply.\n\nWill smiled then. \"So old Warrenton has persuaded you to seek the\nPrince's gold, youngling?\" said he, at last. Without waiting an answer,\nhe stepped back and withdrew his bow. \"Pass, then, Locksley, and good\nfortune attend you,\" he went on. \"We may meet again ere the day be\ndone; but it is not sure----\"\n\n\"You will not try for the purse, Will?\" cried Robin, as if surprised.\n\n\"I have no use for it,\" answered Will, with some egotism, \"Nay, fear\nnot, our third trial is yet to come. I did but stay you to speak of your\ncousin--\" He paused, and glanced towards Stuteley.\n\n\"I am deaf and dumb as you were, friend, a minute agone,\" spoke the\nlittle esquire.\n\n\"Your cousin, Geoffrey of Montfichet, has gone to France,\" continued\nWill, speaking freely so soon as Robin had nodded in confirmation of\nStuteley's discretion. \"Like as not, Master Geoffrey has not talked with\nyou as to his business with us in this greenwood?\"\n\n\"I know nothing beyond that we did bind my cousin's armor about with red\nribbon,\" replied Robin, uneasily. He remembered the clerk's warning, and\na presentiment of coming evil pricked him. \"But I am right glad that\nGeoffrey has encountered no danger, and has given up his schemes with\nyou.\"\n\n\"I did not say that he had done that, Locksley,\" spoke Will, in his\ngruff way. \"Nor do I see why you should fear danger for him when he is\nin my company.\"\n\n\"I meant not that, Will, believe me,\" said Robin, hastily. \"But there\nare two amongst your band who have little love for my cousin, and are\njealous also of you----\" And he told him of his adventure in the early\npart of the day when they last had met.\n\nWill listened with a frown. \"So they winged you, youngling, and yet for\nall that you won the Sheriff's arrow? Give me now some token whereby I\nmay know which of my men are traitors.\"\n\n\"I should only know their voices, Will,\" said Robin, regretfully.\n\nThe outlaw shrugged. \"It matters not, after all,\" he remarked, turning\nto leave them. \"Go your ways, Locksley, and win the purse.\"\n\n\"Is there no toll?\" enquired Robin, smiling again, \"Am I truly free of\nSherwood, Will?\"\n\n\"'Twould seem so, Locksley,\" said the outlaw, briefly. Then, without\nfurther ado, he strode away from him.\n\nThey watched his lithe form disappear.\n\n\"'Tis sure that our disguise is none too good,\" sighed Robin, pondering\nupon the ready way in which the outlaw had recognized him.\n\nSoon afterward rain fell and a heavy storm raged amongst the trees. The\ntwo youths crept into the hollow of one of the larger oaks to shelter\nthemselves. Whilst waiting there they heard the noise of an approaching\ncavalcade. It was a body of archers coming from Lincoln to compete for\nthe purse of gold.\n\nThey cantered past the tree wherein Robin and Stuteley lay hidden, and\ntook no heed of the drenching rain. All were merry with wine and very\nconfident that one amongst them would surely win the prize. The only\nquestion was, Which one?\n\n\"These Nottingham clods!\" cried one, scornfully; \"I'll dare swear that\nmany of them have already promised the prize to their maids! Nottingham\n'gainst Lincoln--'tis possible that they may stand to us for a round.\nBut after that!\"\n\n\"We will spend the money in Nottingham town,\" shouted another of the\ntrotting bowmen. \"For sure the Prince himself could do no handsomer\nthing. A piece I'll toss to the heralds, and another to you, Staveley,\nfor you are a covetous worm----\"\n\nThe rest of his speech was lost through the one addressed turning\nviolently upon him and thrusting at him with his pike, thus tumbling him\ninto the mire. Stuteley laughed outright at this, and for a moment\nstartled the rest of this worshipful company.\n\nRobin, rather vexed at his esquire's want of caution, came with him from\nout of the hollow of the tree. The Lincolnshire men halted, and Robin\nasked for a lift to the field where already the tourney was being\ncommenced.\n\n\"Are you going to the Sherwood tourney, and with a bow?\" asked one of\nthe archers, loftily. \"What will you shoot there, gipsy boy? There are\nno targets such as your shafts might reach. But 'tis true that you may\nlearn something of the game, if you should go.\"\n\n\"I'll lay a crown wager with you, friends,\" said Stuteley, vexed to hear\nRobin called \"gipsy,\" \"that my master's shaft will fly more near the\ncenter of the mark than will any one of yours. So now.\"\n\n\"A crown piece, gipsy! Why, that means twenty crowns for you to find,\"\nlaughed another of the men, loudly.\n\n\"Twenty crowns; why, he has not twenty pence,\" said another.\n\n\"My man has laid the wager and I will stand to it,\" said Robin, quietly,\n\"though I do not like such boasting, I promise you. Twenty crowns to\ntwenty crowns--who will hold the stakes? Here is my purse in warrant of\nmy words.\"\n\n\"Why, master, I am surely the very man to hold your purse!\" called out\nthe lately fallen champion, readily. \"Ask any of them here and (if they\nhave love of truth in them) they will say that Much the Miller is a man\nof men for honesty, sobriety, and the like! 'Tis known throughout\nLincoln that never have I given short measure in all my life. Hand me\nthe purse and be easy.\"\n\n\"Show me your crown, friend,\" said Robin, eyeing him.\n\n\"Now, stirrup me but I have given my last piece to a poor beggar whom we\ndid meet in the wood.\"\n\n\"Then I will hold my purse myself, Master Much,\" cried Robin, putting it\nquickly back into his bosom. \"But have no fear; if you can beat me, I'll\nadd my crown to the Prince's money-bag. We will meet you here, friends,\"\nhe continued, \"beside this very tree, at noon to-morrow, if I should\nwin. If not, I'll yield this purse to the miller ere I leave the\ntourney, and he shall share it round. Is it agreed?\"\n\n\"I do think that you should pay for your travelling, gipsy, since you\nare so rich,\" grunted the first archer. \"Here's half my saddle: I'll\nonly ask a silver penny for a seat on it.\"\n\n\"I'll take you for nought, gipsy,\" shouted Much, who really was very\ntipsy. \"You've spoken fair; and I like you! Come, jump up behind me, and\nhold tight. This horse is one of most wayward character.\"\n\n\"Hurry, then,\" said the leader. \"Whilst we chatter here the tourney\nwill be done; and we shall happen on it just as Hubert takes the prize.\nForward, friends; quick march!\"\n\nThey rattled off at a smart pace. Robin mounted behind the good-natured\nMuch, and Stuteley upon the captain's horse. The miller told Robin\nconfidentially a full score of times that he, Much, was bound to win the\narchery contest, being admittedly the first bowman in the world.\n\n\"Harkee, gipsy,\" called he at length, over the point of his shoulder to\npatient Robin behind him, \"I'll not take your crown, I swear it! I like\nyou, and I would not rob your sweetheart of a penny piece. Buy ribbons\nfor her, then, with the crown I give you.\"\n\nRobin expressed his thanks very cordially. This fellow seemed an\nhonest-hearted rogue; and 'twas mainly to his furious urging of his\nsteed that they arrived in time for the great event.\n\nAs it was, all the jousting was done, and most of the nobles had already\ngone away. The Sheriff was fussily preparing himself to escort the\nPrince to the castle when the horns blew announcing the arrival of the\nLincolnshire bowmen.\n\nThey had pushed their way clumsily through the array of tents, and now\nblundered into the lists through the gate. Robin was glad indeed of his\nstained face and semi-disguise, not being over proud of his companions.\nHe gave Will Stuteley a signal to detach himself from them, and come to\nhis side. The two youths then hastened to the archers' stand.\n\nThere had been three deaths already as a result of the joustings; and\nsix others were seriously injured; yet the Prince looked far from being\nsatisfied, and his glance strayed for ever to the gate.\n\nWhen the Lincoln men had come noisily trooping in, his face had lit up\nand his hand had made a half-movement to find the jewelled hilt of his\nsword. Master Carfax, too, had started to his feet in evident concern.\n\nWhen the heralds announced these new-comers, visible disappointment\nshowed on the faces of the Prince and his followers. Clearly they were\neagerly expecting the appearance of other folk; but, quickly recovering\nhimself, John re-found all the old elegance of his manners. He\ncourteously acknowledged the rough greeting of the archers, and sat back\nsmilingly in his box.\n\nMaster Monceux gave the signal for the archery contest to be begun; and\nRobin soon saw that the archers against him were men very different from\nthose who had been at Nottingham Fair.\n\nWhen it came to the turn of the Prince's own bowman, Hubert of\nNormandy--a man slim, conceited, and over-dressed, but nevertheless a\nvery splendid archer--the first shaft flew so cleanly and so swift that\nit pierced the very middle of the target and stuck out on the other side\nfull half its length.\n\nRobin had to shoot immediately after him, and waited a few moments\nwhilst the markers were tugging at the Norman's arrow. A sudden\ninspiration flashed across the lad's mind; and, advancing a step, he\nbade them desist. They wonderingly fell back, leaving Hubert's arrow\nfixed spitefully in the target.\n\nOne of the heralds cried out that this archer had not yet given in his\nname, but even as he spoke, Robin's arrow flew hissing from his bow. A\nsilence fell upon the onlookers, and even the smiling Prince leaned\nforward in his box. Then a great shout went up of amazement and\nincredulity. The markers and heralds thronged about the target and hid\nit from the general view until they were impatiently pulled away by some\nof the Prince's bodyguard.\n\nA marvel was seen then by all eyes--Robin's arrow standing stiffly out\nfrom the center of the target, with Hubert's wand split down on either\nside of it flush to the very face of the mark!\n\nRobin himself could scarcely credit his own success. He had done the\nthing before, with Warrenton, once out of a dozen times: and he had\nessayed it now more out of bravado than aught else.\n\n\"'Twas a feat worthy of Hubert himself,\" said the Sheriff,\nbombastically, to the Prince. He had not recognized Robin.\n\n\"I have seen Hubert perform just such a trick on many occasions, sir,\"\nsaid Carfax. \"This fellow has done no uncommon thing, believe me,\" he\nwent on. \"And after all, he has not bettered Hubert's shot.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said the Prince, as if thoughtfully. His face showed\nsmiling again. \"Let the contest go on: and Hubert shall shoot again with\nthis young trickster.\"\n\n\"The heralds say that he has not given in his name, sire,\" said one of\nthe courtiers.\n\n\"If that is so, his shooting is of no avail, be it never so good,\" cried\nCarfax, triumphantly. \"Tell them that the archer is disqualified, my\nlord,\" he continued, addressing the Sheriff; \"and bid them discover who\nhe may be.\"\n\nCarfax turned again to the Prince, and began a whispered conversation\nwith him. The Prince listened, nodding his head in approval.\n\n\"Well, Monceux, what do they say?\" he asked the Sheriff, languidly, as\nthe other returned.\n\n\"It seems, sire, that the archer is one who came in with a company of\nLincoln bowmen. No one knows him hereabout. I have said that he is\ndisqualified, and now the others will shoot again. But Hubert has now\nthe purse, for sure.\"\n\n\"In sooth I do think so,\" answered the Prince, laughing rather\nconceitedly. \"But Monceux, bid this lad to me forthwith. I would speak\nwith him.\"\n\nThe Sheriff went about the task; but Robin had disappeared; for\nsuddenly, amidst the throng, his eyes had encountered those strange\ngrey-blue ones of Mistress Fitzwalter.\n\nShe was sitting alone in a little box near by the targets. Robin had\nwalked down the lists to see for himself that his shaft had split the\nNorman's fairly, and in turning away to find Stuteley he had become\naware of her shrewd, piercing gaze. She allowed her eyes to rest fully\non young Fitzooth's ardent glance for the briefest moment. Then she\nlooked away unconcernedly.\n\nBut Robin, venturing all, drew nigh. He came to the edge of her box, and\nbegan to speak. He had gone so far as \"Give you good morrow, lady,\" when\nhis eyes perceived the Sheriff's little golden arrow fastening her\ncloak. His mouth became dry at that and his words went back in his\nthroat.\n\nThe girl, aware of his confusion, brought her gaze back upon him. She\nsmiled.\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN MEETS MAID MARIAN\n\n_But Robin, venturing all, drew nigh. He came to the edge of her box,\nand began to speak._]\n\n\"Is it indeed my young champion?\" asked she, rather doubtfully at first,\nin her low, soft tones. \"Is it you who have beaten the Prince's best\narcher, Robin o' th' Hood?\"\n\nHer eyes were wells of innocent fun. The way in which she lingered over\nthe last syllables brought Robin still deeper into the deep waters.\n\n\"It is your servant, madame,\" was all that he could find to say.\n\n\"You see then that I wear your gift, Robin,\" she said, trying to make\nhim at ease. \"I have not forgotten----\"\n\n\"Nor I--I shall _never_ forget,\" cried he, impulsively. \"Your eyes are\nalways in my memory: they are beautiful as stars,\" said he, fervently.\n\n\"Oh, a gallant Locksley! But there, take my colors, since you will be my\nknight.\" She untied a ribbon from her hair, and gave it into his\noutstretched palm. \"And now, farewell; take the Prince's prize, and\nspend the pennies worthily. Buy your sweetheart some ribbons, but keep\nthat which I have given you.\"\n\nShe tossed her curls again, as she added the last word. Robin was\nbeginning a vehement protestation that he had no sweetheart, when\nStuteley's voice broke in upon him.\n\n\"Master, they have disqualified you, and given the prize to Hubert. 'Tis\na vile injustice, and I have raised my voice furiously. So, alas! has\nMaster Much the Miller; he is a very worthy gentleman.\"\n\n\"What do you say?\" asked Mistress Fitzwalter, in amazement.\n\n\"It is even so, lady, that my lord the Sheriff has ruled my master out\nof the court, for the reason that he did not give in his name before\ndrawing his bow!\" cried Stuteley. \"A wicked conspiracy it is, and\nmonstrous unjust! 'Tis thus that these prizes are given; the game's\narranged beforehand. Ah, but I know how these Nottingham folk do plot:\nthrice now have I found them false and treacherous.\"\n\nWhen Stuteley had begun there were many who were ready to side with him,\nbut his unlucky conclusion turned these possible friends into enemies.\nEven Mistress Fitzwalter drew back for an instant.\n\n\"Be silent, Will,\" said Robin, vexed at once. \"It is enough to be\njuggled out of this prize without your making it worse. I'll go claim it\nfrom Monceux and he shall argue it with me.\"\n\n\"The Prince is asking for you, friend,\" said Carfax, suddenly appearing.\nHe touched Robin on the shoulder.\n\nAs he turned to depart, his gimlet eyes saw how the girl shrank away\nfrom them into her box. He looked swiftly at her; then at Robin again.\n\"His Highness graciously condescended to enquire your name and rank,\"\nsaid he, pausing.\n\n\"Will he give the purse to me, then?\" asked Robin, surprised.\n\n\"Nay, that has already been won by Master Hubert,\" answered Carfax, as\nif amused at the question. \"You cannot win a prize every day.\nMaster--Locksley.\"\n\nHe spoke at a shrewd guess, and saw that his shaft had hit the mark.\nMistress Fitzwalter's interest in Robin had given him the clue.\n\n\"I'll not go to the Prince,\" said Robin, wrathfully. \"Tell him, Master\nFetch-and-Take, that I have won this prize in all fairness; and I will\nshoot with Hubert again, if he needs another beating.\"\n\n\"You'll cool your heels in the stocks, Locksley,\" said Carfax,\nviciously: \"so much is evident. The Sheriff has a quarrel with you\nalready, and 'tis well that you are here to answer Master Ford's\ncomplaint. The Prince will send for you in style, since you will not go\nkindly to him. Bide but a few minutes. I'll not keep you waiting!\"\n\nHe strode off, in heat, followed by Stuteley's scornful gibings.\n\nRobin became aware that the people were eyeing them both with none too\nfriendly glances. He felt that he and Will Stuteley were in a difficult\nposition. Escape seemed to be out of the question.\n\n\"Jump over the ledge of my box, Robin,\" whispered a sudden small voice,\n\"and so make your way through the door at the back of it. Hasten!\"\n\nGratefully Robin did as she bade him; and Stuteley, without waiting for\ninvitation, followed. Mistress Fitzwalter instantly opened the door for\nthem. \"Hurry, I pray you,\" cried she; \"I see them coming for you both.\nThe Prince has sent his pikemen----\"\n\nRobin pushed Will out before him; and, turning, caught her little hand\nin his.\n\n\"Thanks, thanks,\" he muttered, hurriedly, and strove to kiss her\nfingers.\n\nLaughing and blushing, she snatched them away.\n\n\"Go,\" she cried, in agitated voice, \"and stay not until you reach\nLocksley. We may meet again--to talk of thanks,\" she added, seeing that\nhe still hesitated.\n\n\"Give me at least your name,\" panted poor Robin, at the door; \"not that\nI shall ever forget you.\"\n\n\"I am called Marian,\" answered she, closing the door ruthlessly upon\nhim--\"Marian Fitzwalter.... Go now, I implore you, and may good fortune\nbe with you always.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\n\nSo, ingloriously, they returned through the night to Locksley. None\noffered to stay them in the forest of Sherwood; indeed, Robin might well\nhave disbelieved in the existence of Will o' th' Green and his outlaw\nband, had he not had such good reason to know otherwise. It was as if\nWill had silently yielded him that freedom of the forest which he\nboasted was his to give. Tired and footsore, yet filled with a strange\nelation, Robin came back to Locksley before dawn, with faithful Stuteley\nforlornly following him.\n\nThere were questions to be asked and answered when they arrived; and\nWarrenton was very indignant when he heard of the Prince's gross\nfavoritism of his archer Hubert.\n\nRobin seemed to show too little vexation in the matter, Warrenton\nthought. The man-at-arms was both perplexed and amazed by the\nsemi-indifference displayed by the youth: here had he, by marvellous\nskill, won a fine prize, and had seen the same snatched most unfairly\nfrom him, and yet was not furiously enraged; but rather amused, as it\nwere.\n\n\"Surely, surely, you will go back with me to-morrow and demand the purse\nfrom the Sheriff?\" said Warrenton, in argumentative attitude. \"Squire\nGeorge o' th' Hall shall give us the best of Gamewell to enforce respect\nto you.\"\n\n\"Nay, it matters not so much as that, Warrenton. The money I would like\nto have had, I'll not deny it; for it would have made me more\nindependent of Master Monceux. But it has not fallen to me, and there it\nends.\"\n\n\"Well, 'tis well that you are so easy, lording,\" said Warrenton,\nscratching his head. \"Now tell us whom you saw; and how you contrived to\nsplit the Norman's arrow.\"\n\nHe had already heard the story: but was very fain to listen to it again.\n\"It is a trick that I taught him, dame,\" he added, off-handedly, to\nMistress Fitzooth. \"One that did surprise the Norman too, I'll warrant\nme. You see, they are so concerned with their crossbows and other\nfal-lals in France that when good English yew----\"\n\n\"I saw Master Will,\" said Robin, to check him. Once Warrenton was\nstarted on a dissertation on the virtues of the English longbow there\nwas usually no staying him. \"He told me that the Scarlet Knight had gone\nto France.\"\n\nWarrenton looked wise. \"That is not worthy of belief, excellence,\" said\nhe, cunningly. \"Prince John is near; and one cannot imagine that\nGeoffrey of Montfichet----\"\n\n\"Geoffrey of Montfichet?\" asked the dame, wonderingly: and then\nWarrenton saw how he had blundered. \"Why, I did not know that you had\nmet your cousin, Robin. When was it, and why do you call him the Scarlet\nKnight?\"\n\n\"Geoffrey is outlawed, mother mine, and may not appear in Sherwood,\"\nanswered Robin, temporizing with her. \"And the story of our meeting is\ntoo long a one for the moment. We are rarely fatigued, and I would\ngladly get me to bed. Come, Will, rouse yourself. Mother, see that we do\nnot sleep too long. I must go to Gamewell by the day after to-morrow at\nleast; and there is much work between my going and now.\"\n\nHe had determined to ask the Squire to move again in the matter of the\nRangership for him whilst John was here. Even if the Prince had unduly\nfavored Hubert in the archery contest, it did not necessarily follow\nthat he would be unjust in such a plain business as this. Robin kissed\nthe dame, struggled with a yawn, and got him to rest. He slept uneasily,\nhis dreams being strangely compounded of happiness and grief.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWithin three days Robin started away for Gamewell, taking only Stuteley,\nas before. He intended to make his return to Locksley ere dusk of the\nnext night.\n\nWhen they were far advanced on their journey they heard sounds of a\nlarge company upon the road; and prudently Robin bade Stuteley hide with\nhim in the undergrowth until they should see who these might be.\n\n\"Maybe 'tis the Sheriff, with Master Ford, coming to seize our home. By\nwatching them unseen we may find a way to bring their schemes to naught.\nKeep near to me, Will; and scarcely breathe.\"\n\nIt was indeed a body of men from Nottingham; and, although the Sheriff\nwas not with them, Master Carfax and a few of the Lincoln bowmen were\namongst the company. So also was Ford, the forester.\n\nIn all, there were about two score of men, and most of them were\nSherwood foresters. Robin espied Much the Miller in the tail of the\nprocession, looking very dejected and ill, and decided to risk exposing\nhimself. Standing up in the bracken, he called out boldly: \"Hold there,\nMaster Much. Here am I, ready to take your money.\"\n\n\"What sprite are you?\" answered Much, reining in his steed sharply.\n\"Why! 'tis the gipsy lad, as I live; with his face nicely washed...!\"\nHe had recognized Robin by his clothes. \"Money, forsooth! Do you know\nthat I have not so much as a groat in my pouch?\"\n\n\"Then must one of the others lend it to you,\" replied Robin. \"Pay me,\nfriends, forthwith. A short reckoning is an easy reckoning. My arrow\nflew nearer the target than did any of yours.\"\n\n\"How do you know that?\" said Much. \"After you had gone we all did aim\nagain, and very marvellous was my shooting. For sure, I should have had\nthe prize, even as I told you, had not Hubert already made off with it.\"\n\n\"Is this so?\" asked Robin, doubtfully, looking from one to the other of\nthe Lincoln men. Those in front had now stopped also; and Master Carfax\ncame ambling back to see what had occasioned the delay. So soon as he\nespied Robin his face took a joyful look. \"Here, Master Ford,\" he\ncalled, clapping his hands. \"Hither--come hither! Here is your quarry\nfound for you. Now you can fight it out, fair and square, whilst we\nwatch to see fair play!\"\n\nFord turned about and glanced at Robin; but he did not like the notion\nof such a battle. So he affected not to recognize him. \"Nay, this is but\nsome vagrant fellow,\" said he, hesitatingly. \"Let us push on, Master\nSimeon; 'tis near the hour when we are to meet with him whom you know.\"\nHe added these words in a low voice, and made a gesture indicating the\nCopmanhurst road.\n\nCarfax's face took a diabolical expression. He had begun to answer Ford,\nwhen the whole party were suddenly disturbed by the rush of a great herd\nof Royal deer.\n\nThese beasts, driven by someone from out of their pastures, came\nscattering blindly adown the track; and men and horses moved quickly to\none side to avoid a devastating collision.\n\nAfter they had passed, Carfax began again. \"Form a ring, friends,\" cried\nhe, coaxingly. \"Let neither of these fellows escape. They shall yield us\nsome sport, in any event, whether Ford be right or I.\"\n\nA solitary stag at this instant appeared before them. He stood, as if\ncarved from stone, in the center of the road, at three hundred paces'\ndistance. He was clearly uncertain whether to dash through these his\nusual enemies, in an attempt to rejoin the herd, or fly backward to that\nunknown danger which had first startled them all.\n\n\"'Tis a fine beast,\" hiccoughed Much. \"Now had I a steady hand!\"\n\nSimeon Carfax interrupted him. \"By the Lord Harry, here is the very\nthing,\" he said, in whispered excitement. \"Now, fellow, you shall prove\nme right and this forester wrong. I say you are Robin of Locksley, who\ndid split the Norman's arrow at the tourney. Fly a shaft now at yon\nmark; surely none but such a bowman as yourself might dare hope to reach\nit.\"\n\nRobin fell into the very palpable trap set for him. Without answering\nCarfax, he fitted an arrow to his bow, and sent speeding death to the\ntrembling stag. It fell, pierced cleanly to the heart. Robin eyed Ford\ntriumphantly.\n\nBut Master Carfax now held up his hands in horror. \"See what you have\ndone, wicked youth,\" ejaculated he, as if quite overcome with dismay. \"I\nbade you shoot at yon birch-tree shimmering there to the left of the\ndeer. Did I not say: 'Fly at yon mark'? And now you have killed one of\nthe King's deer.\"\n\n\"I do hear that this fellow has slain others about Locksley,\" said Ford,\nmeanly. \"You are right, Master Simeon; he is, in sooth, Robin of\nLocksley; your eyes are wiser than mine. Seize him, my men.\"\n\nAt once the foresters sprang upon Robin and Stuteley, and a fierce\nbattle was commenced. Despite a valiant resistance, Robin and Will\nStuteley were soon overcome and bound hard and fast.\n\n\"You villains,\" panted Stuteley. \"And you, most treacherous,\" he called\nto Carfax, \"I wish you joy of so contemptible a trick.\"\n\n\"All's fair in war, friend,\" answered Carfax. \"Now, Master Ford, fulfil\nyour duty. You know the law; that if one be found killing the King's\ndeer in the Royal Forest of Sherwood, he or she may be summarily hanged\nwhen caught upon the nearest tree.\"\n\n\"It must be _in flagrante delicto_, Master Simeon,\" said Ford, uneasy\nagain.\n\n\"Could there be a plainer case?\" cried Carfax, rubbing his hands. \"We\nall did see this fellow shoot the deer. Tis the clearest case; and I do\ncounsel you to deal lawfully in it, Master Ford. Remember that he also\nis suspected of being an outlaw, in that you saw him once use a\npeacocked arrow. Although I am but a layman, as it were, friend,\" he\nadded, meaningly, \"yet I do know the law, and shall be forced to quit my\nconscience with the Prince when I return to Nottingham. Wherefore,\nseeing that your appointment to Locksley still lacks his\nconfirmation----\"\n\n\"I would rather bring the rogue to Master Monceux, as he did command\nme,\" argued Ford, who could not quite brace himself to this. \"Besides,\nwe have no leisure at this moment to carry out the law,\" he went on.\n\"You know that your master the Prince did start us on this journey with\ntwo errands upon our shoulders.\"\n\n\"One was to deal with Robin of Locksley,\" said Carfax, snarlingly, and\nwithout yielding his point.\n\n\"To take him to Nottingham, master, I say,\" put in Much. \"I do not think\nthat the Prince meant you to harm him.\"\n\n\"Be silent, knave!\" snapped the lean-faced man, sharply. \"Who gave you\nthe right to question me? Shut your mouth, or I will have you accounted\nas accomplice with these fellows, and put a noose about your bull-neck\nalso!\"\n\n\"Why, harkee, master,\" said Much, very wrathful. \"This is a game where\ntwo can play or more. I do forthwith range myself with the gipsy; and\nyou, Midge,\" he added, turning to one of his company, \"surely you will\nfollow?\"\n\n\"Right instantly,\" answered the one called Midge, a little ferret of a\nman.\n\n\"And I also.\" \"And I, Master Much\"--so spoke the remaining Lincoln men.\n\n\"So are we six, then,\" said Much. He tumbled off his horse, and the\nother three of them did the like; and then strode over to where Robin\nstood. \"Release him,\" said the miller, determinedly; and he promptly\nknocked two of the foresters sprawling.\n\nThis was the signal for a general encounter, and all threw themselves\nvery heartily into the m\u00eal\u00e9e.\n\nThe miller and his men struggled to release Robin and Stuteley so that\nthese might help in the fray; but the foresters were too many for them.\nTwice did Much get his hands upon Robin's bonds, only to be plucked\nviolently backward. The men tumbled one upon the other in the fight,\npummelling, clutching, and tearing at each other in a wild confusion.\nThey made little noise, all being too desperately in earnest. Ford\nencouraged his foresters by word and gesture; and Carfax kept himself as\nfar out of it as possible. Presently three of the foresters overpowered\nthe good-natured, still half-tipsy miller, and held him down.\n\nThen Master Carfax sprang from his horse and rushed in upon the\nprostrate miller. Seizing one of the foresters' pikes the lean-faced man\nfoully swung it down upon Much's pate with a sounding thwack. The miller\ngave a groan and became limp in the hands of his assailants.\n\n\"Now, surely, that is the meanest of all the mean deeds which you have\ndone!\" cried Robin. He tore at his bonds fiercely and vainly--biting at\nthe cord about his wrists with his teeth. Carfax ran to his horse. In an\ninstant he had returned with a cord taken from under his saddle. \"I had\na notion that this might be useful to me when I set out this morn,\" he\nsaid. \"Put it about his neck soon as a noose is fashioned. Now fling the\nend of it over this branch. Now draw it tight. Steadily, I pray you; be\nnot over-quick. The prisoner has the right to speak a prayer ere he be\nhanged. Say it then, Robin of Locksley.\"\n\nRobin caught sight at this instant of poor Stuteley's face. He had been\nknocked down in the fight, and, being bound, had lain where he had\nfallen. His eyes met Robin's in an anguished glance, and his lips\ntrembled in attempt at speech.\n\nRobin strove to smile at him; but his own soul was sick within his body.\nHe felt the cord tighten again about his throat, but even as the world\nreeled black, Robin heard dully the sound of a horn. In familiar tones\nit came in upon his fainting brain. Next instant came a jerk at the\nrope, futile, if infuriated; then, suddenly, contact with a body falling\nheavily against his own.\n\nAs he fell he knew that something warm and horrid trickled upon his\nhands. Then followed a vast confusion of noise: and, in the midst of it,\nsweet peace.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\n\nWhen Robin came to his senses he found himself surrounded by the outlaw\nband. On this occasion they appeared as friends, however--and welcome\nones to boot; for it had been a near matter that Robin's history had\nbeen ended by Master Carfax on this day.\n\nNow were the tables turned, and very completely. The foresters had been\novercome by Will and his outlaws, thanks to the diversion brought about\nby the Lincoln men. Much was sitting up with a more rueful countenance\nthan he had when Robin had first spied him on this morning; and little\nsharp-nosed Midge was busy bathing and binding his cracked poll.\n\nSome half-score of the foresters, with Master Ford, had escaped along\nthe road towards Locksley: the rest were bound, and their horses\nconfiscated by the outlaws.\n\nMaster Simeon, with rage and terror depicted plainly upon his\ncountenance, lay writhing at Robin's feet, bound with the very cord with\nwhich he had sought to end young Fitzooth's life. His enemies had\ntrussed him across a quarter-staff, and had tied the knots large and\ntight about him.\n\n\"Well, Locksley, how now?\" asked Will o' th' Green, with gruff\nkindliness. \"Are the vapors passed? Can you twiddle your bow again?\"\n\n\"Not skilfully enough now to take place against you, Will,\" smiled\nRobin, recovering himself more and more. \"I am atrembling yet. I had\nthought to see the blue sky no more----\"\n\n\"Ay, my man's arrow was not too soon, Locksley,\" said Will, gravely.\n\"This fellow's hand was upon the rope, and another moment might have\nseen you gallows-fruit upon this tree.\" He paused to bend over a\nforester lying prone near them, with his face buried in the grass. Robin\nsaw that the man's body was transfixed by an arrow.\n\n\"He is no more,\" Will told them, looking up presently; \"your aim was a\nshrewd one, Hal,\" he went on, addressing himself to one of his band.\n\n\"Is he indeed _dead_?\" asked Robin, in an awestruck voice.\n\n\"'Twas his life or yours,\" answered Will o' th' Green, grimly. He turned\nto his men. \"Now, comrades,\" cried he, \"have you searched our prisoners\nand prepared them? 'Tis well. Are they bound together, then, by the\narms, twos and threes, as is appointed in our rules; and is the right\nleg and left leg of each villain shackled together?... Stand them up,\nthen, with their faces toward Nottingham, and bid them march.\"\n\n\"There is yet this one, captain,\" said one of the men, indicating\nCarfax. \"What shall we do with him?\"\n\n\"Has he been searched closely?\" enquired Will. Without waiting a reply,\nhe roughly ran his fingers through Master Carfax's pockets, and\nunfastened his tunic at the bosom. A parchment dropped out and Will\nsnapped it up.\n\n\"I come from the Prince,\" whined Carfax, speaking at last; \"and if so be\nyou are Master Will Cloudesley, or Will o' th' Green--as these folks do\ncall you--why, I have a very gracious message for you.\"\n\nThe outlaw gave a signal to his men. \"Set him upon his feet,\" he\nordered, \"and loosen these cords. Now, excellence, speak at your ease.\"\n\n\"Believe him not, Master Will,\" interposed Stuteley, afraid that Carfax\nwas going to turn the tables on them in some treacherous way. \"He is a\nvery proper rogue.\"\n\n\"Be easy, friend,\" said Will o' th' Green. \"Every one is judged here in\nfairness. These men,\" pointing to the shamefaced, miserable foresters,\n\"were caught in the doing of an evil deed, and so were dealt with\nsummarily. But this one did not seem to have a hand in it.\"\n\n\"It was he who commanded them, sir,\" suddenly shrilled the little\nLincoln named Midge. \"He is, in sooth, a diabolical villain, and did\nvery foully strike our companion here whilst men were holding him.\"\n\n\"All testify against you, excellence,\" said the outlaw, speaking again\nto Carfax. \"What is your story of it? Speak without fear.\"\n\n\"This rascal did imprudently waylay us on the road with a demand for\nmoney,\" began Carfax, \"and I, riding back at his noise, did recognize\nhim for one Robin Locksley, a notorious fellow who has defied my lord\nthe Sheriff's authority; and has also been suspect of being of your\ncompany--which is a thing, saving your presence, Master Cloudesley, that\nhas been poor recommendation in the past. Further, with our own eyes\nhave we seen him shoot and kill one of his Majesty's stags, a most\nvalued beast with sixteen pointed antlers, as you can see. We were but\nexercising the law upon him, as is appointed.... That is to say, _Master\nFord_ was directing his men to carry out the law,\" said Carfax, with his\nthin cheeks pale with fear. \"I did but counsel prudence, and plead for\nthe youth.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" cried Will, with contempt in his tones. \"Now tell me the\nmessage which the Prince has sent by so worthy a messenger.\"\n\n\"That is for your private ear,\" said Simeon, cunningly.\n\n\"You may speak plainly before my comrades,\" said Will. \"Doubtless they\nare as interested in the Royal words as I myself.\"\n\n\"I was to bid you come at once to the City gate, so many of you as\nwould,\" Carfax said, \"there to receive the King's pardon from the hands\nof our beloved Prince. Indeed, his gracious Highness did well expect to\nsee you before him three days agone, at the tourney.\"\n\n\"Dressed about with red ribbons, I trow?\" enquired the outlaw, as if\nhelping him.\n\n\"Indeed yes, Master Cloudesley. You have said it, indeed. Knowledge of\nyour loyalty to us was brought to the Prince by me. By me, good friend,\"\nhe repeated, insinuatingly. \"And now give back to me my parchment--which,\nbeing writ in the Latin tongue, is truly no more than a cartel to\nmy lord the Abbot of York--and let us set forth joyfully. For\nhenceforth ye will be as free men, and what is past will be forgotten.\"\n\n\"I can read you the scroll, Will,\" said Robin, quietly. \"I have some\nknowledge of the priestly tongue.\"\n\nThe outlaw handed him the scroll, and all waited in silence whilst\nRobin deciphered it. Carfax snapped his teeth together in vexation at\nthis unexpected turn. \"_He_ cannot read the parchment. Is it likely?\" he\ncried. \"He will but pretend to read it, and make lies with which to\nconfound me. 'Tis writ in most scholarly Latin, that only few may\nlearn.\"\n\n\"There is treachery here for you, Will,\" spoke Robin, without heeding\nthese outcries. \"This is a notification from the Prince to the Abbot of\nYork saying that his emissaries have sounded you and that you are ready\nwith your men to strike for him.\"\n\n\"I have said so much,\" commented Will, \"naming three conditions.\"\n\n\"They are written herein: first, that a general amnesty is to be\ngranted; second, that the ban of excommunication is to be removed from\noff you by the Holy Church; and third, that the Prince shall find your\nmen, afterward, honorable employment.\"\n\n\"That is so, Locksley. The letter is exact.\"\n\n\"So the Prince writes to the Abbot, asking him to promise the second of\nyour conditions, saying that it need be only a promise, for he has not\nthe least intention of holding to a bargain with one so evil as\nyourself, and that after he has won the throne from Henry his father,\nmatters such as these will be disposed of by his soldiery, if need be.\"\n\n\"It is not true,\" screamed Carfax. \"He lies to you, Master Cloudesley,\nseeking to be revenged on me.\"\n\n\"Any clerk can read these lines to you, Will,\" answered Robin. \"The\nPrince continues praying for the welfare of them all at York, and saying\nthat he has already promised in the Abbot's name that the loan shall be\ntaken off; that the Abbot is to receive and watch narrowly one Geoffrey\nof Montfichet, who has been exiled for treason, but who now imprudently\nhas returned to work on their behalf in England.\"\n\n\"Now do I know that you are reading truly,\" cried Will, and his brow\ngrew black. \"For how could you know that your cousin was concerned in\nthis? You false-hearted knave,\" he added, turning to Carfax, \"false as\nyour false master--your doom is sealed. Tie him up by his heels, and let\nhim hang head downward from this tree whereon he would have hung gallant\nLocksley. Be speedy, men.\"\n\nAt this Simeon Carfax became as one quite demented, and Robin\ninterposed.\n\n\"Let us not punish the man for his master's fault, Will,\" cried he.\n\"Deal with him only on the score of my quarrel with him, when I shall\nsay--let him go. For I should always feel shame were we to be as harsh\nwith an enemy as he would be with us. It would show us no better then\nhe.\"\n\n\"Take him then, since Locksley will have it so, and tie his legs under\nthe belly of his horse--first setting him face to tail upon it,\" said\nWill. \"And you, Hal, go and cut me the antlers from off yon poor beast.\"\n\nWhen this was done he caused his men to attach the horns by means of a\ncord to Master Carfax's head; then, with his own hand, Will gave the\nhorse a lead towards Nottingham.\n\nThen, with a \"view halloo,\" the steed bearing the unfortunate man was\nstarted in real earnest; and the foresters sent staggering by after it\nalong the road to Nottingham.\n\nWhen they were out of sight, Robin thanked the outlaw again for all\nthat he had done for them. Will merely shrugged his shoulders, as one\nwho would say: \"'Tis a matter not worth breath\"; and, giving his men a\nsignal, prepared to return to his own fastnesses. Robin begged them to\ntake the body of the deer, and, with small reluctance, the outlaws\naccepted the offer.\n\nThe Lincoln men bade Robin farewell also, saying that they would now go\non towards their own homes with a light heart: for, having met the\noutlaws and found them most agreeable company, they had no more fear of\nSherwood.\n\nSo Robin and little Stuteley, waving farewell to all these strange\nfriends, moved on towards Gamewell, although Robin really had little\nhope now of coming by the Prince's grace into what seemed to be but his\nrights. The Sheriff and Simeon Carfax would attend to that, no doubt.\n\nA curious dejection settled upon Robin. He had nothing but gloomy\nthoughts upon him as he trudged towards the Squire's domain. Nor did his\nspirits rise at his reception by old Gamewell. The Squire appeared\nalmost uneasy with him; and was short in his speech, although once or\ntwice a kindlier light flashed in his bright eyes.\n\n\"Already he regrets that he should have pressed me to take up the\nMontfichet name,\" thought Robin to himself, imagining that herein was\nthe cause of the Squire's distemper.\n\nHe began to tell Montfichet of their doings and adventures: but had no\nsooner come to that part of the narrative referring to the Prince's\npurse than the Squire broke out: \"Talk not to me of that man,\" cried he,\nvehemently. \"He is an unworthy son of a much-tried father. Forsooth,\nthis has become an age of disobedience and unfilial behavior; one has\nbut to look round to find most sons alike. The Fifth Commandment is now\nwithout meaning to the younger generation.\"\n\n\"I have no father, sir,\" said poor Robin, half in defense; for Gamewell\nlooked so fiercely at him. \"Nor do I seek to keep you to your offer,\"\nadded he, in his thoughts.\n\n\"I was not thinking so much of you, boy,\" replied the Squire; and again\na better expression shone briefly in his face. \"Give you good night,\nRobin Locksley--you know your chamber. Sleep well and we will talk\ntogether in the morning.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe morning saw no easement of the Squire's attitude towards Robin; and\nas soon as breakfast was ended he determined to go without wasting\nbreath upon the errand which had brought him.\n\n\"For sure, he is repenting of his offer,\" reasoned Robin. \"Perchance\nalready his heart is moved again towards Geoffrey, and who shall be more\nglad than I to find this so? I'll let the Squire think it comes from\nme--as in truth it does--this whimsey to prefer the name of Fitzooth to\nMontfichet!\"\n\nSo bravely, as he was about to leave him, Robin spoke to the old man.\n\n\"Sir,\" he said, \"I have it in me to speak plain words with you, and I\nmay.\"\n\n\"Have no fear, boy. I am one who loves an open mind.\" Montfichet spoke\nwith meaning.\n\n\"Well, sir, I would say with reference to that which you once did press\nupon my mother and myself--that I should take your name and\nhalf-fortune with my cousin Geoffrey--that I have thought well upon your\nkind offer.\"\n\n\"There was to be a year go by, Master Fitzooth, ere you should give\nanswer.\"\n\n\"In a year or now, sir,\" said Robin, firmly, \"I cannot see that I should\naccept. I have no quarrel with my cousin, and I will not come between\nhim and your heart--which pleads against yourself on his behalf.\"\n\nMontfichet broke forth then, and Robin learned suddenly what had come\nbetween him and this strange, capricious man.\n\n\"No quarrel with Geoffrey, say you?\" he shouted, bringing his fist down\nwith violence upon the oak table. \"No, I trow you have not, Robin\nFitzooth! But I have a quarrel both with him and you. Know that I have\nheard the story of your escapade with that mean son of mine, who must\ncome prowling like a thief in the night about the walls of Gamewell. I\nknow the Scarlet Knight's secret, and yours--who did think it brave to\ndeceive and outwit an old man.\"\n\n\"Sir, sir!\" began Robin, aghast at this storm.\n\n\"Nay, I will hear no more of it. Treachery and deceit--always they hang\nabout my house. You deceived me, Robin Fitzooth, and cozened my servant\nWarrenton. So I cast you out of my heart for ever. For the rest of my\ndays I will be sufficient unto myself: after I am gone, the dogs may\nquarrel above my grave for the bones of Gamewell.\"\n\nHe almost pushed Robin from him, and turned brusquely away. Dazed and\nconfounded, Robin faltered rather than walked to reach Stuteley, who\nstood awaiting him in the courtyard. Without a word, Robin took his\nhand. \"Come, Will; let us go,\" he muttered, thickly: and with wrathful\nheart Robin Fitzooth shook the dust of Gamewell from off his feet.\n\nFaintly through his mind came memory of the clerk's warning: but it was\nall of it so unjust! He had never intended to deceive the Squire: all\nthat he had done had been done without thought. After all, what fault\nhad he committed against Montfichet?\n\n\"'Fore Heaven,\" said Robin, furiously, \"I never will speak with that man\nagain--nor cross the threshold of his house!\"\n\nSo the clouds gathered more and more thickly over the head of Robin\nFitzooth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\n\nThe Demoiselle Marie was behind all this. She had known Geoffrey's plans\nfrom her lover, Master Carfax; for Master Carfax had had interviews with\nthose two of Will's band, Roger and Micah, the traitors sworn against\nGeoffrey.\n\n'Twas all wheel within wheel and plot within plot. Carfax had by nature\na face made to show differently on either side of it. Thus he was in\nservice with the Prince; and, whilst knowing the younger Montfichet to\nbe his master's ally, affected outwardly to recognize him as one against\nwhom the hands of all righteous men should be raised.\n\nMaster Simeon had gone forth with the Prince's message to Will o' th'\nGreen, and with John Ford, in order that he might install that latter\nworthy at Locksley. Afterward Simeon was to journey to the Priory of\nYork, as we know. Marie Monceux, to complete Robin's undoing, bade her\nfather go to Gamewell and there tell Montfichet how Robin had helped\nGeoffrey to his scarlet-ribboned horse, giving the Squire the story as\nit had come through the two false outlaws. Certain proof she sent in a\nstrip of the red cloth which Montfichet well knew to belong only to his\nhouse at Gamewell.\n\nSo suddenly Montfichet's mind was poisoned against Robin; with the\nresult that we have seen. The Squire began now to believe Ford's tale\nthat young Fitzooth was of the outlaw band, and at once withdrew all\nsupport of Robin so far as the Rangership of Locksley was concerned.\n\"No doubt,\" thought the Squire, bitterly, \"he is son of his father in\ndiscontent and false pride. Fitzooth never was frank with me, and has\ntrained his son to distrust and deceive all men.\"\n\nTruly the Sheriff's daughter was exacting full penalty for Robin's\ndisregard of her at the Nottingham Fair.\n\nShe had employed her hand also against the maid Fitzwalter, as we shall\nfind later.\n\nRobin, in forbidding silence, strode along the road until they neared\nthe shrine of St. Dunstan, when he looked eagerly toward the stout\nlittle hut of the clerk, hoping to find his old friend standing at the\ndoor of it, with his barking dogs.\n\nAll was silent, however, and deserted. To Robin's surprise, the gate of\nthe palisade stood wide open; and the door of the hut also. He glanced\nat Will.\n\n\"Surely the priest is abroad imprudently, master?\" said young Stuteley.\n\"See how he has left his little house--open to the world! He must be of\na very trusting nature for sure.\"\n\n\"I remember now that the gate was unlatched yesterday,\" spoke Robin,\nslowly. \"I noticed it then and meant to talk with you on the point,\nWill. I hope that no evil has befallen the clerk.\"\n\n\"'Tis three weeks or more since we have had tidings of him,\" said\nStuteley. \"Shall we go in and make search?\"\n\nThey entered the rude dwelling and soon exhausted every hole and corner\nof it in a vain hunt for some token of the clerk. The kennels at the\nback were empty and forlorn; and some bread which they found in the\nhermit's tiny larder was mouldy and very stale.\n\n\"Let us push on to Locksley, Will; mayhap we shall have better cheer\nwaiting us there!\"\n\nThey trudged on quietly. His master's depression had reached and\novercome merry Stuteley. They began unconsciously to walk quickly and\nmore quickly still as they approached Locksley. The day was overcast and\nvery still.\n\nPresently Robin, throwing back his head, sniffed the air.\n\n\"Surely there is a strange smell in these woods, Will? Does it not seem\nto you that there is a taste of burning grasses in the breeze?\"\n\n\"Master,\" answered Stuteley, his face suddenly paling at some inner\nfear, \"I do smell fire such as a blazing house would give forth. Well do\nI know the scent of it; having seen our own home burned last year.\"\n\n\"Hurry, hurry, Will; my heart misgives me. Some further disaster is upon\nus. This is my evil day, I know. Hurry, for the love of me!\"\n\nThey set off at a frenzied scamper through the woods, taking the short\nfootpath which would lead them to the back of the house of Locksley.\nRobin broke through the trees and undergrowth and hastily scaled the\nfence that railed off their garden from the wild woods.\n\nA dread sight met his starting eyes. Dull brown smoke curled from under\nthe eaves of his home in dense clouds; the windows were gaping rounds\nfrom which ever and anon red flames gushed forth; a torrid heat was\nadded to the sickening odor of the doomed homestead.\n\nSomebody grasped him by the hand.\n\n\"Thanks be that you are returned, excellence,\" spoke a rough voice, with\nemotion. \"This is a sorry welcome.\"\n\n\"My mother?\" gasped Robin, blankly, and his heart stood still for\nWarrenton's answer.\n\n\"Not a hair of her head has been touched. Old Warrenton would not stand\nhere to tell you the sorry tale were it otherwise. But the house must\ngo; 'tis too old and dry a place for mortal hand to save.\"\n\nStuteley had joined them by this, and the three gazed for a minute in\nstupefied silence on the flaming destruction of that home so dear to\nRobin Fitzooth. Warrenton, grimed and righteously angry, began his tale.\n\nYesterday, at dusk, the sound of a winding horn had brought them all\nanxiously to the garden. \"We thought that you had returned with young\nStuteley,\" said the old man-at-arms; \"but we found ourselves facing none\nother than Master Ford the forester, with about six or more of the most\ninsolent of his men. Peremptorily be bade us deliver up this house to\nhim, pulling out a warrant from his bosom and waving it before your\nmother's face.\"\n\n\"Ford, was it?\" questioned Robin. Then light broke in upon him.\nYesterday, after the battle between Will's band and that of Master\nCarfax, some of the defeated foresters had fled to the north of\nSherwood.\n\n\"You must bear up, young master,\" said Warrenton; \"the Squire will\ndoubtless build you a new home.\"\n\n\"Alas, Warrenton! Master Montfichet has turned against me now,\" said\nRobin then, \"and against you also. Continue your story, and you shall\nhear ours when you have done.\"\n\nSo Warrenton continued, telling them how John Ford had made an attempt\nto seize the place: how Warrenton and the few servants had striven to\nbeat him back: and how, after valiant fighting, they had succeeded in\nkeeping them from taking the house at least. The garden they could not\nretain; but Warrenton, having established himself at one of the upper\nwindows, had so shrewdly flown his arrows, that Ford himself had been\nwounded and one of his men killed outright.\n\nNight had fallen upon them in this way, and the dame thought that it\nwould be a good scheme for one of her maids to now endeavor to slip out\nand arouse the village to their help. One of the women therefore essayed\nthe journey; but was so clumsy as to attract the enemy's attention. She\nwas seized and made to confess how the house was protected and where it\nwas most likely to fall before a sharp assault. Being a witless wench,\nshe told them truly, and Master Ford then bade her help them collect\nsticks and leaves in order that they might be able to fire the place as\na last resource.\n\nThose within had thought that the girl had managed to evade danger, and\ncheerfully waited for help from the village.\n\nA determined attack was commenced at daybreak; and Ford and his men\nsucceeded in gaining possession of the kitchens without loss. Another of\nthe servants was captured, also a second maid-servant was injured by an\narrow, so seriously as to die within twenty minutes.\n\nWarrenton kept the stairs and barricaded the inner door from the\nkitchens by putting tables and chairs against it. At length a parley was\ncalled, and Ford shouted his conditions through the keyhole. The\nbesieged then learned that the distant village was still unaware of\ntheir peril. Ford offered to let them all go forth free, if now they\nwould yield up the house to him.\n\nMistress Fitzooth had a mind to accept, but Warrenton counselled no.\nAfter a long argument Ford swore that he would burn the house over their\nheads if they did not surrender it within an hour; and, going back to\nthe garden, he began to bring in the loose dry pieces of wood and sticks\nhe and his men had collected in the night.\n\nAt three hours after noon, Ford, having given one more warning to them,\nhad bidden his fellows do the worst. In a few moments the smell of\nburning filled the house; and Mistress Fitzooth became as one\ndistraught.\n\n\"We had two women left to us,\" Warrenton continued, \"and a lad, who was\nworth as much as a man to me. I bade them open the door softly, and rush\nforth whilst the wretches were employed at their fiendish work in the\nrear. This we did, and so gained, unperceived, the little shed near by\nthe gate. From a crack in the boards, I could command bowshot of the\nwhole front; and I had given the lad a bow of yours. The two maids,\ntaking your mother's hands, pulled her along under the hedge until they\ngained the road. Then all three ran furiously toward the village.\n\n\"We who were left behind had not long to wait. Presently, one came round\nto the front with a piece of flaming wood and boldly thrust it through\nthe nearest lattice. Him I killed at once with an arrow through the\nback. They were now but five against us. Presently two others came\nstealthily from the back: but, seeing their companion dead, ran back\nhastily.\n\n\"Master Ford appeared next, and began to look suspiciously about him.\nHis fellow had rolled over in his death-struggles, and so might have\nbeen slain from my window in the house-front. Curls of smoke were coming\nup from under the thatch by now; and Ford, making up his mind, ran out\nwith the others, and flung himself upon the door.\n\n\"We had left it latched; and so it gave enough of resistance in his\nblind attack to justify him in believing it was still held from within.\nIt fell inwards, at last, with a crash; and Ford sprang triumphantly\nacross the threshold. His fellows rushed after him, trying now to beat\nout the fire.\"\n\nWarrenton paused, and all fell again to watching the leaping flames.\n\n\"Meanwhile I guessed that your mother was safe, and had already alarmed\nthe villagers,\" continued the old retainer. \"So, with a shout, I rushed\nout upon the villains, with the lad, and pulled the broken door back to\nits place, shutting them in, that they might enjoy their own fell work\nin all security. Two of them did attempt escape just since by leaping\nfrom out of the window. But my bow was ready strung for them.\"\n\n\"Have you killed four men, then, Warrenton?\" said Robin, his blood\nrunning cold. Then suddenly the full meaning of it flashed upon him.\n\"And Ford?\" he cried, with a gesture of horror, \"and the two others?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Warrenton, grimly. \"I had come round here to see whether\nthey had preference for fire or for my arrows, having left the boy to\nguard the front. Then I saw you and young Stuteley, and in my chattering\nI had nigh come to forget them. But there is Master Ford beckoning to\nus from your own room.\"\n\nA frenzied, dreadful figure had indeed appeared for a brief instant\namongst the thick curling smoke. It waved two hopeless hands out towards\nthe falling dusk, and then incontinently vanished.\n\nA thin scream sounded in Robin's ears, as a rush of flame mercifully\nswallowed up this apparition: like as not, 'twas the sound of the fire\nitself. The end had come, both to the unhappy foresters and Robin's\nhome. With a huge torrent of noise the roof of it crushed in, half\nstifling the fire.\n\nThen the flames seized full mastery; and amid a shower of sparks, the\nred tongues licked and devoured the last of their prey.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nRobin hastened to find his mother, that he might be relieved of his\nanxiety and be rid for the moment of the sight of the awful catastrophe\nof the fire. Warrenton and Stuteley rushed in together, at his command,\nto try to save the two remaining foresters; but it was a very forlorn\nhope. Warrenton in his just revenge had pushed things to their extreme\nlimits: Master Ford and all his band had paid the utmost penalty of\ntheir failure to overcome this relentless old man.\n\nMistress Fitzooth had secured refuge and was now much calmer. She\nembraced her son and wept over him in joy at this reunion. Robin could\nsee, however, that she was indeed much overwrought by these troubles.\nShe had not yet recovered from the loss of her husband.\n\nThey stayed with these poor people, who found room for them somehow,\nout of sheer charity, for neither Robin nor the dame had any money. It\nwas a bitter business, in sooth: and next day Robin, finding his mother\nfar from well, humbled himself to beg assistance from the Squire. He\ndespatched the letter by Warrenton, and then patiently set himself to\nwait a reply.\n\nAlso, he determined to seek an audience with the Prince. His home had\nbeen burned, his small patrimony gone: he had now no means of keeping\nhimself and the dame from starvation save by living on another man's\nbread.\n\nThe clerk, his one tried friend, was gone--no one knew where.\n\nThe Prince would surely yield him the right to be Ranger at Locksley in\nhis father's place! The house had been given to dead Hugh Fitzooth by\nHenry, the King.\n\nAn uneasy feeling took possession of Robin, for Warrenton had defied and\novercome the Sheriff's man when he had been properly empowered to expel\nmother and son from Locksley, and there were seven dead men, nay eight,\nto be accounted for--and they were all of them King's Foresters.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMontfichet answered him by sending a purse of money and a curt letter\nsaying that Mistress Fitzooth was to come to Gamewell, where for the\nrest of her days she would always find a home. For Robin he could do\nnothing: already the Sheriff had drawn up a proclamation of outlawry\nagainst him, setting the price of a hundred crowns upon him, living or\ndead.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\n\nMistress Fitzooth never saw Gamewell or her brother again. Her disorder\ntook a sudden and fatal turn; and within a week Robin found himself\ndoubly an orphan--without home, money, or hope. Only two good friends\nhad he--little Stuteley and staunch Warrenton.\n\nThe Squire had refused to see the latter and had sent him the reply to\nRobin's note by one of the servants. Montfichet was angered with\nWarrenton because he had been deceived by him.\n\nRobin laid his mother to rest beside his father. That was as long as he\nmight dare stay in Locksley. Every day he feared to be seized by Master\nMonceux's myrmidons. Stuteley kept watch on the road through Sherwood by\nday and Warrenton by night.\n\nThe morning of the interment brought news of danger. One of the few\nfaithful foresters of Locksley was at his post--the rest, having no\nmaster, had disported themselves upon their own various errands--and he\nheard from a shepherd that a body of soldiers were journeying to\nLocksley. Full two score and ten of them there were; one, the leader,\ncarrying a warrant for Robin's arrest. The forester hastened to save his\nyoung master.\n\nThe time was short. Robin had scarcely pause to perform the last sad\noffices above his mother's grave ere he must be flying for his life.\nHis only chance was to take to the woods and hide in them.\n\nWarrenton urged him to seek shelter in the thicker forest about\nBarnesdale, at the north-western end of Sherwood. Whispers gave a story\nthat the higher parts were honeycombed with strange caves; and all the\ncountryside knew that away in Barnesdale were the headquarters and camps\nof Will o' th' Green. It was the place of all others for shelter; and\nStuteley became joyful in the thought of the adventures that must chance\nto them therein.\n\nWarrenton was sober, however, over it. He had a presentiment that the\ndays would be hard and the food scanty and plain. Still 'twas a man's\nlife, after all.\n\nThey nearly plunged themselves into the hands of the enemy by mistaking\ntheir road.\n\nSo it chanced that Robin spied his old enemy Simeon Carfax and narrowly\nmissed being seen also by him. The three fugitives hid themselves high\nup in the branches of a tree; and watched with beating hearts their\nenemies hurrying onward to Locksley. With the band of soldiers, pikemen,\nand foresters were two whom Robin observed narrowly. Sounds of their\ntalk reached his ears; and, since these two fellows rode somewhat apart\nfrom the rest, Robin was able to distinguish their chattering.\n\nHe had unfailing ear for a voice. These were those traitors in Will's\nband, the two outlaws whom he had encountered on the day of the\njoustings at Nottingham Fair. \"Roger and Micah,\" murmured Robin to\nhimself, after listening a while. \"Yes, those were the names they used\n_then_. So, friends, I am forearmed against you, for I will step with\nheavy foot in your concerns by-and-by--when I do find Master Will o' th'\nGreen! Roger--and Micah--I'll not forget.\"\n\nSoon as they had passed, the three slid quietly to the ground and\nthereafter betook themselves very cautiously through the wood. Robin\ndetermined to find Will soon as he might and lay his case before him.\nThe outlaw would give him refuge, no doubt.\n\nThe noise of the soldiers passed away in a murmuring discordance, and\nthe three fugitives walked now more boldly towards Barnesdale. Ere\nsundown they were very heartily tired. They lay themselves down in the\nlong grasses and while two slumbered the third watched.\n\nSuch foods as dry bread and berries were all that they could command;\nbut there was water in plenty. The evening came, and after it night--and\nso to break of the next day.\n\nRobin would have recommenced the flight soon as they had bathed\nthemselves in a little shallow stream. Ere an hour of daylight was\ntheirs, sounds of hurried approach warned them to be alert. Someone was\ncrashing recklessly through the wood, following their trail clearly.\nRobin bade Warrenton and little Stuteley hide on either hand whilst he\nput himself directly in the path of this pursuer.\n\nIt proved to be none other than that one faithful forester of Locksley\nwho had warned him of the soldiery. Robin welcomed him all the more\ngladly when he heard that this good fellow meant to throw in his own\nfortunes with those of his unjustly treated young master.\n\nHe had news for them, too. It transpired that Master Carfax had several\nduties in hand--as was his wont. First, he had to seize Robin and bring\nhim, alive or dead, to the Sheriff. Next he was to declare all the\nFitzooth property to be confiscated; and, having put seal upon any of it\nthat might be left from the fire, he had to instal as temporary Ranger\none of the Sherwood men whom he might think fit and trustworthy. Then a\nmessenger was to be despatched with another parchment to the Abbot of\nYork: writ this time in true Norman tongue.\n\nAfter these things were executed Master Simeon was to turn his men\nabout, and march them determinedly upon the outlaws' stronghold, which\nwas now known to be at Barnesdale, and exterminate the band.\n\nA task none so easy, after all!\n\nFor the satisfactory doing of these small commissions Carfax was to\nreceive one hundred and fifty pieces of gold; and also would be accepted\nby the Sheriff as a fitting husband for the pale, hard-eyed demoiselle,\nMarie of Monceux. 'Twas this reward that made Master Simeon desperate\nand dangerous.\n\nThe forester, John Berry by name, told Robin further that Carfax had\nclothed his body in chain-mail, and was carrying a dreadful axe in his\nbelt--with which to avenge the insult put upon him in the matter of the\nstag's horns.\n\n\"Let us seek Barnesdale forthwith,\" said Robin. \"I am all agog to warn\nWill o' th' Green--for he has been a stout friend to me.\"\n\n\"Hurry then, master,\" cried Berry, the forester. \"You are not far from\nthe Barnesdale road. In sooth, as I followed your tracks, I wondered\nhow you had come so far within a very short space. You are now within\ntouch of Gamewell.\"\n\nIt was true. In the mazy forest they had nearly described a circle, and\nwere now perilously nigh to Gamewell and the squire.\n\nAn idea came to Robin. He turned to Warrenton.\n\n\"Could we but find that underground path whereby cousin Geoffrey came\nand went from the pleasance, old friend,\" said he, \"why--we might play\nthe Yellow Lady to purpose!\"\n\n\"Excellence,\" replied Warrenton, \"I will undertake to bring you to the\nforest entrance of Master Will's castle within a score of minutes.\"\n\n\"Lead us, Warrenton--and I prithee be better guide than you have been so\nfar in this adventure.\"\n\nAfter taking many by-paths, and through a big tunnel-shaped cave, the\npath became dry again, and lighter: and soon they saw that the end was\nnear. They emerged presently, tired and dirtied; and found themselves\nunder the bank of a little jumping woodland river--far down in a gorge\nof rock and brake, studded and overhung with thick trees.\n\nIt was a wild spot: and only the notes of the birds and the rush of the\nfalling water disturbed it. But ere they had proceeded a quarter of a\nmile up the bank of the stream a sudden bend in it brought them the\nharsh noise of desperate and near fighting.\n\nLoud shouts and battle-cries sounded on their left; and, running\nspeedily in this direction, our four adventurers chanced upon a strange\nsight.\n\nIt was strange by the manner of their view of it; for, having clambered\nup the bank to the top of the gorge, they saw themselves on the highest\nedge of a spur of ground--with the low down rocky valley of the river\nbehind, and before them a little narrow plain--as equally below them as\nwas the water they had left. On this plain were a number of men engaged\nin deadly battle. Round and about were the thick dark woods of\nBarnesdale.\n\nA moment's glance showed Robin that they had arrived too late to help\nWill o' th' Green by way of warning. The outlaw's foes were upon him,\nand seemingly had the robber and his band at a disadvantage.\n\nThe ground descended below the four onlookers so abruptly as to cut them\noff from the plain. They were near to the battle; and yet altogether\nremote from it.\n\n\"Our arrows must do duty for us, then,\" muttered Robin, grimly, soon as\nhe understood this. \"Fit shafts across your bows, friends, and aim with\nall your hearts in it. Let not those of either side see us. 'Tis thus\nthat our services shall be of most value to Master Will.\"\n\nThey dropped to their knees and aimed their arrows carefully. They had\nfull quivers with them, and Warrenton and Robin felt themselves in a\nmanner to be pitted one against the other. The battle raged so furiously\nbelow, however, that for a minute these allies were compelled to remain\nidle--not daring to loose their shafts for fear of slaying friends as\nwell as foes.\n\nSounds of a horn, shrill and impatient, suddenly called the soldiers\nback to their ranks beside Master Carfax. Robin spied this worthy now;\nand saw that he bestrode a black horse clumsily--as if armored indeed.\nSimeon evidently had withdrawn his men from a m\u00eal\u00e9e for fear that in it\nhe might not be properly protected. He was seen to be issuing orders\nvery peremptorily to the men.\n\nMeanwhile the outlaws rallied themselves to their leader's side. They,\nwere sadly decreased in numbers; and, whilst the living thus formed\nabout in battle array, there were many poor fellows of both sides left\nupon the field who stirred not even to the imperative commands of their\ncommanders.\n\nNow was Robin's chance.\n\n\"Choose your man, each one of you,\" said he, in a suppressed eagerness;\n\"and soon as the soldiers issue at the charge shoot down upon your\nmark.\"\n\nCarfax gave an order almost as he spoke. Instantly Robin loosed his bow,\nand singing death flew from it. He overturned the soldier nearest to\nMaster Simeon, even as Warrenton's shaft struck another dead at once.\n\nThe forester Berry and little Stuteley added to the confusion--both\nwounding the same soldier simultaneously. Then Carfax, believing that\nthese arrows came from Will's band, sounded a charge and spurred his\nhorse forward amongst his pikemen.\n\nThey rushed forward with swinging axe and clanking sword upon the\noutlaws, who now delivered a sudden stream of shafts. These Robin's band\nsupplemented by shrewder arrows. Seven of the soldiers rolled over as\nthey ran, killed forthwith; and Robin, having pricked Simeon's horse,\nshot him again in the ear whilst meaning to find his master.\n\nThe beast plunged wildly into the soldiers, trampling and scattering\nthem. But many managed yet to meet the robbers, and the desperate\nhand-to-hand fighting was recommenced.\n\nRobin bade the others cease. The four of them peered from out of their\ncover over the crest, and watched breathlessly. Carfax had fallen from\nhis horse and lay floundering on the close grass. Stuteley sped a\ngooseshaft into his forearm ere Robin could check him.\n\nWarrenton drew his master's attention and anger away from his esquire by\na quick whisper.\n\n\"See, lording--quick! Look how some of the enemy do creep about Master\nWill; they will strike him and his fellows from the rear!\"\n\n\"The two who lead them are not uniformed--like as not they are those\ntreacherous ones whom I have such cause to remember.\"\n\nSo muttered Robin, with parted lips, and gasping his words disjointedly.\n\"Smite them, Warrenton,\" cried he, suddenly and excitedly. \"Speedily,\ninstantly--or they will end this fight against us. _Now!_\"\n\nTheir arrows flew together, marvellous shots, each finding its prey. The\ntwo wretches threw up their arms as they ran; and, uttering dismal\ncries, fell upon the earth, and in their death-struggles tore up vain\nhandfuls of the soil.\n\n\"Follow, follow,\" called Robin, to his three faithful ones. \"Locksley! A\nLocksley! To the rescue!\"\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD AND HIS COMPANIONS LEND AID TO WILL O' TH'\nGREEN FROM AMBUSH\n\n_Their arrows flew together, marvellous shots, each finding its prey._]\n\nThey tumbled headlong down the slope, shouting vociferously as they\ncame. The soldiers, alarmed and already disheartened, imagined that\nthese eager enemies were but forerunners of a large reinforcement.\nHastily they disengaged themselves from the outlaws, and, gathering up\nMaster Carfax, rushed pell-mell with him backward to the woods on the\nright.\n\nWill o' th' Green's few men hurried them with their arrows; and soon as\nRobin had come down to level ground he fell to streaming his shafts into\nthe rout. He was bruised, begrimed, and cut about his face by the thorns\nand rocks; yet was so furious against Master Simeon and his myrmidons\nthat these things were not even felt by him. Shouting \"Locksley!\nLocksley!\" more and more triumphantly, he ran alone in fierce pursuit.\n\nThe soldiers disappeared under the trees, and ran even then. Warrenton\nand the outlaws came on in support of young Robin; and the defeat of\nCarfax and his men was completed. They were chased through the woods of\nBarnesdale, which these wild outlaws knew so well. Some were shot with\narrows mercifully; others fell under the cruel blows of the outlaws'\nshort axes. A few escaped with Master Carfax back to the Sheriff of\nNottingham--not one-third of those who had set out at his command. It\nwas the most desperate of affairs yet betwixt the greenwood men and\nthose representing law and order as conceived by the Sheriff. On either\nside many were killed--the outlaw band was reduced in numbers, and its\nleader, Will o' th' Green, was amongst those who were to plot and fight\nno more in Sherwood.\n\nWhen Robin and the rest of them returned from their long chase, tired\nwith an immense fatigue, they found sad work still before them. Robin\ntended Will himself, and bound up his many wounds: and sought to\nbeguile him to live--if but to spite Monceux and his wretches. But Will\no' th' Green had been pierced too dreadfully by his enemies' darts: he\nhad only strength to drink a little water and say his last words to his\nmen.\n\nIn the dusk of this day he lay in Robin's arms, wizard no more; and\nasked that someone should give the call he knew so well--the strange,\nshort signal upon the horn which ever had rallied these men. Then as\nthey, with dejected faces, drew nigh to him, he spoke to them\nall--bidding them hate the laws and defy them so long as they were\nunjust and harsh. He counselled them to choose amongst themselves a new\nleader--one who would be impartial and honest; and the one who could\nbend the best bow.\n\n\"Be not robbers to any who are poor and who are good fellows--having\nonly their poverty against them. Be kind to those who help you, but\nexact toll as heretofore of all who come through the greenwood. The rich\nto pay in money, and blood--if it be necessary.\"\n\nHe added these words with an effort; and his mind wandered in the\nshadowy fields of death. Robin saw how his fingers twitched, as if they\nplucked still the cord of his good yew bow. He smoothed back Will's dark\nhair from off his brow, and put water to the outlaw's lips. Will o' th'\nGreen glanced up at him, and something of his old expression--half-grim,\nhalf-smiling--showed that he struggled still to hold hands with life.\n\n\"For you, Locksley,\" he muttered, puckering his brows, \"there are two\nroads open. One, to yield thyself to Monceux and the rack--for not even\nyour uncle at Gamewell should save you, even did he so wish; the\nother--to join with these honest fellows and live a free life. What else\nis left to you? If you would be as dutiful to the laws as the earth to\nsummer sun, it should not avail you. Your lord the Sheriff is in the\nhands of his girl--and she listens with willing ear to Master Carfax.\nAsk not how I know these things. Your cousin is outlawed----\"\n\n\"I shall live in the greenwood, Will,\" answered Robin, quietly, \"with\nyour brave men and you--if so be I may. Have I won now the freedom of\nthe forest?\" He showed him the broken peacocked arrow which the Clerk of\nCopmanhurst had given him.\n\nThe outlaw held up his right hand and laid it on Robin's bowed head:\n\"Upon you, Robin of Locksley, do I bestow, with this my last breath,\nfull freedom of the forests of England,\" he said, very loudly. Then he\nrelaxed from his frown to a rare smile. \"Learn this sign----\" he said,\nand showed Robin, with feeble fingers, how the greenwood men knew each\nother in any disguise. It was a simple signal, very easy to know, yet\nvery sure. No one might suppose it given by accident--yet of design it\nappeared quite innocent. The smile was fading from Will's face as Robin\nrepeated it carefully after him; and even as he spoke again he died.\n\n\"Farewell--friends all--take this brother into your good company, and\nmake him and those with him right welcome. I pray you to remember and\nabide by those kindly rules which have always--always----\"\n\nHis speech fell away into meaningless words, and the light left his\nface. He moved in Robin's arms and sighed. Then, as his body rolled\nslowly over, and he lay with his back turned to them, they saw that his\nworst wound was in it--a dastard's blow. So ended the life of Will o'\nth' Green--or Will of Cloudesley: he of whom many stories have been told\nin other books.\n\nThey took him up reverently and buried him in a secret place--so that\nnone to this day can say where he lies. And the outlaws swore an oath of\nvengeance against him who had so foully slain their chief.\n\nRobin guessed wisely that the mortal blow had been given by one of those\ntwo traitors in Will's own camp. Had they not been riding with Carfax in\nthe early morn--not as prisoners-of-war--but as informers and spies?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next day was passed in burying the dead of both sides. The outlaws\naccepted Robin without question as one full welcome amongst them; and\nWarrenton, Stuteley, and John Berry were also given the freedom of the\nwoods and taught the signs and freemasonry of them.\n\nThe bodies of the soldiers and mercenaries were stripped and heaped\ntogether into a pit, and roughly covered with earth and leaves. Then the\noutlaws betook themselves to their caves to settle who should be chief\nof the band in Will's place.\n\nWhilst they were employed in this difficult business, the Sheriff sent\nout another and larger body of armed men--obeying the insolent command\nof his Prince. Fear sat upon the soul of Monceux then: for he did not\ndoubt that another such disaster as that which had chanced to his other\nmen would mean disgrace and the end of his lord-shrievalty.\n\nThis second company who were captained by Hubert the Archer, with\nbandaged Carfax second in command, had an easy conquest, however, of\nSherwood and Barnesdale--for none challenged them, nor questioned their\nproceedings in any respect. Nor was there sign left in the woods of\nRobin or the outlaws--they were vanished so utterly that Carfax\nconceived them all to have either died of their wounds or fled\ndisconsolate from the neighborhood.\n\nIn either event this was most excellent news; and, having patrolled the\nforest and searched it indifferently well, the men-at-arms of Nottingham\nagreed that peace-loving folk had no more to fear from the wild spirits\nof Sherwood. They were gone, banished--and the King's forest was now\nsafe of passage to all.\n\nCarfax, poking here and there, found the fresh grave of his own fellows,\nand disturbed it mightily. He bade Hubert disinter them all; and\npretended to recognize each one. Here was the arch-rebel Will of\nCloudesley--this one was the second man of his band. Here was young\nRobin Fitzooth, as dead as mutton--and here was his fellow Stuteley. So\nMaster Simeon went on, to his own satisfaction and to Hubert's, who\nforesaw large rewards to be paid for these poor dishonored bodies.\n\nThey brought three of them back, with every circumstance of importance.\nThey were shown to the Prince as being the last remains of Will\nCloudesley, Robin Fitzooth, and Hall the Outlaw--a well-known marauder\nin Will's company.\n\nPrince John forthwith praised the pikemen and archers, and bade Monceux\ngive them great rewards--a thing which vexed the mean Sheriff much. Then\nthey all rode about and through the forest in a great hunt of the Royal\ndeer, graciously attended by the Prince himself.\n\nMonceux was forgiven; and Simeon, having quite recovered all his old\nself-esteem, was duly betrothed to the demoiselle Marie. A new Ranger\nwas appointed at Locksley; and another house was found for him. No one\nsaid him nay.\n\nA proclamation against all outlaws and freebooters having been issued\nand signed with many flourishes by John, he betook his Royal person to\nYork, carrying lean-faced, smiling Carfax with him. Mistress Monceux hid\nher sorrow and devoted her energies forthwith towards the undoing of the\nmaid Fitzwalter, against whom she yet nursed much spite.\n\nThe Prince stayed at Gamewell on his way, and patronized indulgently old\nGeorge Montfichet, although the latter's dislike of his Royal guest was\nonly too thinly veiled. Then John took farewell of Nottingham and\nSherwood, making an easy business of it. Monceux had ridden out on this\nmorning to make dutiful obeisance and escort the Prince through Locksley\nto the borders.\n\nOutside the gates of Gamewell John delivered himself to the men-at-arms,\nretainers, burgesses, and citizens of Nottingham, who had inquisitively\nfollowed the Sheriff.\n\n\"We will not forget your hospitality, friends all,\" said he, in his\nslightly swaggering and yet withal effeminate way; \"and see, in some\nmeasure of return for it, we leave you our Sherwood free from pestilent\nrobbers and evil defiers of the law. When we came to Nottingham there\nwere these and others; but now they are all driven out of our Royal\nforest--many slain with the arrows of my Hubert, or beaten with the\nstaves of your own fellows. This surely is some sort of gift--see to it\nthat you keep well that which we have secured for you.\"\n\nThen he rode forth amid the cheerings of the crowd, Hubert and his\nfollowers scattering largesses as they rode.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\n\nAll through that long winter Robin had lain hidden in the Barnesdale\ncaves with the remains of the band of outlaws which had begun with Will\nof Cloudesley's advent and nigh ended with his death. At first there had\nbeen some quarrelling and jealousy amongst them as to who should be the\nnew captain.\n\nThere were, with Robin and his three recruits, twenty and two men all\ntold. These had decided upon many tests between themselves in order to\nsettle who should lead; and when there were tests of archery Robin had\nbeaten them all.\n\nYet he had no wish to set himself at their head, having sped his arrows\nso well more for the reason that a good bowman cannot but aim well when\nhis fingers are upon his weapon. So he had said modestly that they must\nreckon without him, and that he would gladly obey the man the others\nshould choose.\n\nThen there had been fresh bickerings, and they were once nearly\ndiscovered by the Sheriff's foresters, who by some means stumbled upon\none of their underground passages.\n\nThe winter brought with it many privations; and they decided at length\nto leave Barnesdale and go into the county of Lincoln. They made their\nragged clothes as much like those of the King's Foresters as they could\nand then set out.\n\nOne thing had been agreed on: that they must have some new clothes and\ninduce other bold spirits to join with them: else Sherwood would be lost\nto them for ever.\n\nRobin had quite decided to cast in his lot with these men. He felt that\nthey would be loyal to each other, and he knew that the only traitors\nwhich this band had known were now no more. A bitter hatred of the\nSheriff; of lying Carfax and of Royalty, as personified by the unjust,\nindolent Prince, had moulded Robin's character into steel, as it were.\n\nRobin had counselled this journey to Lincoln. In the secret caves about\nBarnesdale, Will of Cloudesley had amassed and stored away much wealth.\nIt was useless to them here in Nottingham; but in Lincoln one of them\nmight go in to the market and buy sufficient Lincoln cloth and needles\nand thread to fit them all out.\n\nSwords might also be obtained; and some shirts of chain-mail, new bows\nand new arrows.\n\nThe band started away under cover of a crisp February night, and had\ncome into sight of Lincoln within three days. They had just finished\ntheir morning meal of the third day when they were overtaken by a\nstoutish man whose clothing was of the most remarkable description. He\nwore a cloak which was so clouted and patched that the first part of it\nhung about him in a dozen folds. He had on his head three hats, one\nrammed tightly over the other, so that he cared neither for wind nor\nrain. On his back was a bag held by a thong of strong leather about his\nneck. In his right hand was a long crooked stick.\n\nThe outlaws had naturally hidden themselves at first sound of his\nfootsteps. They watched him go by, and passed jests between themselves\nconcerning him. Stuteley begged that he might be allowed to play a joke\nupon the fellow.\n\n\"Go after him by all means, if you will,\" said Robin; \"but be polite,\nfor I have it in my mind that this is a man known to me. I would that I\ncould hear him speak.\"\n\n\"Follow me, master, warily, and you shall hear him speak to a purpose!\"\ncried little Stuteley.\n\nWhen the stranger found that someone walked behind him, he quickened his\npace. Stuteley called out to him, but he made no reply.\n\n\"Stand, as I bid you, fellow,\" cried little Stuteley again, \"for you\nshall tarry and speak to me.\"\n\n\"By my troth,\" said the other, answering him at last, \"I have no leisure\nfor talk with you, friend. 'Tis very far to my lodging and the morning\ngrows. Therefore, I will lose my dinner if I do not hasten.\"\n\n\"I have had no meat nor bread betwixt my lips this day,\" retorted Will\nStuteley, coming up with him. \"And I do not know where I may get any,\nfor if I go to a tavern they will ask me for money, of which I have not\none groat, unless you will lend me some until we do meet again?\"\n\nThe clouted man replied very peevishly: \"I have no money to lend you,\nfriend; for I have lost the little I had in a foolish wager made at\nNottingham. But you are a younger man than I, though you seem to be more\nlazy; so I can promise you a long fast if you wait until you have money\nfrom me.\"\n\nNow, something in the man's tones roused memories in little Stuteley,\nyet he could not resolve them into shape. The fellow's face was so\nobscured by the three hats that one could scarcely get a peep at it.\n\n\"Since we have met this day,\" said Stuteley, wrathfully, \"I will have\nmoney of you, even though it be but one penny. Therefore, lay aside your\ncloak and the bag about your neck; or I will tear it open. And should\nyou offer to make any noise my arrows shall pierce your fat body like\nunto a cullender.\"\n\nThe man laughed discordantly; and again Stuteley thought he recognized\nhim.\n\n\"Do you think, friend, that I have any fear of your arrows? Stand away\nor I will beat you into grist.\"\n\nStuteley bent his bow and set an arrow upon the cord, but not so quickly\nas to save himself from a mighty thwack from the man's cudgel. The\nlittle esquire sprang back, and in doing so dropped both bow and arrow.\nNothing dismayed, he drew his sword, and engaged at once with the\nstranger.\n\nTheir blows fell about each other's bodies like hail, and Stuteley found\nthat not all his Cumberland tricks could help him with so furious an\nopponent. His enemy had little skill, but plenty of strength and\nagility; his stick whirled and twirled, beating down Stuteley's guard\ntime after time. He was, besides, a bigger man and much older.\n\nRobin's esquire began to see that he had met a sturdy opponent, and even\nas this tardy knowledge came into his mind, the stranger gave him a\ncrushing body blow, and he tumbled fairly to the ground. There Stuteley\nlay, with closed eyes and white face.\n\n\"'Tis a pity to rest so soon, friend,\" remarked the stranger, with\nirony. \"Would it not be better to snatch my money from me, and take your\nease afterwards in that tavern which you wot of?\"\n\nStuteley answered nothing, but lay deadly still. Robin and the rest were\ntoo far behind to perceive what had happened. The strange-looking man\nturned away without bestowing another glance on his little enemy, and\nsoon his quaint figure disappeared over the brow of the next hill.\n\nWithin a dozen minutes the outlaws came up and discovered poor Will\nStuteley lying on the ground, faintly moaning. They bathed his head, but\ncould find no wounds. Robin was much upset, and began to eagerly\nquestion his esquire so soon as he showed signs of returning to his\nwits.\n\n\"Tell me, little Will, what evil mischance has fallen to you?\" asked\nRobin, with emotion.\n\nStuteley raised his head and looked about him in a dazed manner.\n\n\"I have been all through the county of Cumberland, master,\" said he, at\nlast, in a weak voice, \"and I have wrestled and fenced with many; yet\nnever since I was a child and under my father's hand have I been so put\nto it.\" He shut his eyes again; then opened them viciously. \"I\nencountered with our fellow-traveller and saw no reason to fear such a\nclown. Yet he has scratched my back so heartily that I do fear it never\nwill be straight again.\"\n\n\"Nay, nay, Will. I'll nurse you well, be sure on't,\" murmured Robin,\nfull of pity and despair.\n\n\"Dear master, I speak but as I feel,\" continued Stuteley, half shutting\nhis eyes. \"But the rascal has not gone far from us; and were some of you\nto hasten, doubtless he would be brought to book, and I might see him\npunished ere I die. Go you, old Warrenton, you are a stubborn fighter;\nand take John Berry and two of the rest.\"\n\n\"I'll e'en fetch him to you myself, malapert,\" said Warrenton.\n\n\"He is more deadly than your Lady in Yellow, I promise you,\" said\nStuteley. \"Be wary, and let at least six of you surround him.\"\n\n\"That would be wasting the time of five of us,\" answered old Warrenton,\nin an off-hand way; \"I will go alone.\"\n\n\"Let someone then prepare bandages for our Warrenton, and take my shirt\nfor them. He will need such service.\"\n\nWarrenton and Berry, with another, ran off at this. Robin saw that\nStuteley was not so near his end as he affected to imagine; and made him\nmore comfortable beneath a tree, covered him with a cloak, gave him some\ndrink, and ministered to him considerately.\n\nThe old man-at-arms fully intended to capture their quarry alone;\nfeeling to be on his mettle, as it were. So he ran as fast as he could\nbefore the other two; but not so fast as to catch up with the man he\nsought.\n\nPresently he espied him far down the road; and, knowing a shorter path\nto Lincoln, whither he judged the man was bound, Warrenton called to the\nothers and they struck away from the road.\n\nThey made their plans as they walked, and at length cut off the enemy.\nHe did not look so formidable as Stuteley had painted him; and as he\ndrew near they felt this was an easy business. Two of them sprang out\nupon him, and one, seizing his twisted stick, dragged it violently out\nof his hands. Warrenton flashed a dagger at his breast, saying\nsinisterly: \"Friend, if you utter any alarm I will be your confessor and\nhangman. Come back with us forthwith and you may end your fight properly\nwith our companion. He waits greedily for you.\"\n\n\"Give me the chance,\" answered the fellow, valiantly, \"and I will fight\nwith you all.\"\n\nBerry and the other outlaw instantly gave him the frog's march backward\nalong the road; but the villain struggled so fiercely that they\npresently began to tire.\n\n\"Now grant me my life,\" said their prisoner, \"and I will give you good\nmoney to the sum of one hundred pieces. It is all my savings, which I\npromised to give into the hands of a wicked usurer in Lincoln.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Berry, pausing, \"this is a fair sum, and might heal our\ncompanion's wounds very comfortably. Hold him fast, comrades, whilst I\ngo back for his staff. Without that he cannot do much harm.\"\n\nWhilst he was gone the fellow began again. \"I am a miller, friends,\"\nsaid he, much more at ease already, \"and have but lately returned from\ndoing a good bargain in wheat. Also, I am esteemed a fair archer, and,\nsince I perceive that you are foresters all, this matter will tell with\nyou in my favor. I could draw you a pretty bow had I but the use of my\narms.\"\n\n\"Nay, master miller, but we would sooner hold you tight, and take your\nskill for granted,\" answered the outlaw.\n\nBerry came back and stuck the staff into the ground at a little\ndistance.\n\n\"Now count out your pieces, miller,\" said Warrenton.\n\nThere was a keen wind blowing and the miller turned about so as not to\nface it directly they gave him half-freedom. Warrenton said gruffly to\nhim: \"Count, miller; count truly and honestly.\"\n\n\"Let me open my bag then,\" said the rogue. He unfastened it from his\nneck, and, setting it on the ground, took off his patched cloak. He\nplaced his bag carefully upon it, holding the bag as though it were\nheavy indeed. Then he crouched down over it and fumbled at the leathern\nthong.\n\nThe outlaws had all gathered closely before him as he plunged in his\nfingers. In the bag were too pecks of fine meal; and as soon as the\ncunning miller had filled his hands full he suddenly drew them out and\ndashed the white powder fair into the eager faces of the men about him.\n\nThen he snatched up the bag by the two corners and shook out the rest of\nthe meal. It blew in a blinding cloud about Warrenton and the rest, and\nfilled their eyes so utterly as to leave them all three at the miller's\nmercy.\n\nHe caught up his stick and began to belabor them soundly.\n\n\"Since I have dirtied your clothes, friends,\" cried he, between the\nblows, \"'tis only right that I should dust them for you! Here are my\nhundred 'pieces'; how like you them?\"\n\nEach word was accompanied by a tremendous thwack. He fell so heartily\ninto the business as to become unwary. Robin and the rest, hearing the\nshouting and noise, came speeding down the road, with Stuteley recovered\nalready. They chanced on a strange sight.\n\nBerry, old Warrenton, and the outlaw were dancing about in an agony of\nrage, helpless and blind, and striking vain blows at empty air. The man\nwith the three hats was belaboring them with his staff so thoroughly as\nto have become a man with no hat at all. They all were tumbled upon the\nroad.\n\n\"Why all this haste?\" roared he, not noticing Robin or the others. \"Why\nwill you not tarry for my money? 'Tis strange that no man will wait upon\nme this day, whilst I am in so generous a mood!\" He sprang up and down,\nwhacking them without ceasing. His feet encountered one of his many hats\nand ruthlessly kicked it aside.\n\n\"'Tis Much the Miller!\" cried Robin, recognizing him by his voice \"'Tis\nthe miller who helped to save me in Sherwood. Friend, you have never yet\npaid me my guinea, and I now do claim it of you.\"\n\nMaster Much ceased his occupation. He turned warily about to Robin. So\nsoon as he had looked well at him, he dropped his stick and came over\nvery frankly to him.\n\n\"So it's the gipsy?\" said he, grinning all over his broad face. \"And\nthey have neither flayed you nor hanged you yet? And are these fellows\nwith you?\"\n\n\"We are the free men of Sherwood,\" said Robin, \"and were coming to\nLincoln to get ourselves new clothes and weapons. Also we had hoped to\nfind other good men and true willing to join with us.\"\n\nMuch went up to Stuteley, and craved his pardon very handsomely at this.\n\"Had I but looked at you, friend, I might have known you for the other\ngipsy, and these fellows for some of those who did save you both from\nMaster Carfax. That is always my way: but never have I been so sorry\nfor't as on this day, for now, through being too hasty, I have lost your\ngood will.\"\n\n\"Nay, Master Miller, but that is not so,\" said Stuteley.\n\nWarrenton and Berry at first were inclined to play with the miller as he\nhad with them; but Robin pleaded so well for good fellowship that, after\na little, peace was proclaimed.\n\nMuch, to atone for his misdeeds, undertook to do their business in\nLincoln; and set himself busily to work on their behalf. He found them\nall comfortable and quiet quarters where they might stay unnoticed and\nunmolested, and Stuteley went with Robin to buy the cloth for their\nsuits.\n\nThey stayed in and about the old town for nearly three weeks, until all\nwere well equipped. Much asked that he might join with them and bring\nhis friend Midge and a few other merry souls.\n\nRobin explained to him that they had rules, which, although few and\nsimple, were strict, and that they had, at present, no especial leader,\nsince all had elected to remain equal and free, observing the same laws\nand pledged to each other in loyalty unto death. A common bond of\nindependence bound them.\n\n\"Why, then, master, we are your men,\" said Much; \"for we are all sick to\ndeath of the Normans and their high-handed ways, to tell truth; and\nright gladly will we take service with you.\"\n\n\"I am not the first or only man of our company,\" began Robin, smiling;\nbut hasty Much interrupted him with a great oath.\n\n\"You shall be my captain, gipsy, I promise you! And captain of us\nLincoln men; for you did beat me in archery before the Prince, so I am\nbound to own you as master. Here's my hand on it; and Midge's too. Come\nhither, Midge, and swear fealty to Robin of Locksley.\"\n\nRobin recognized Midge for the ferret-faced man who had been with Much\nat the tourney. Both insisted on paying over to Stuteley the amount of\nthe wager lost by them on that day.\n\nThe outlaws returned to Sherwood well satisfied; and at Barnesdale went\non perfecting their plans and adding to their numbers. The day came at\nlength for them to announce themselves.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\n\nOne bright morning in May a slim, straight youth, slightly bearded,\ndressed in a green suit, with bow unstrung, and a fresh color blowing on\nhis cheeks, came out of the wood upon the highroad by Copmanhurst.\n\nHe stood erect, quietly alert, and with his brown eyes watchful of the\nroad. He then moved softly along the road until he came to where but\nlast year the brook had sprawled and scrambled across it. Now a fine\nstone bridge had been built, at the word of Prince John, who had\ncomplained much at having wetted his feet when he had passed by St.\nDunstan's shrine eight months agone.\n\nThe stranger smiled as he looked at the bridge, half sadly, half in\nreverie. He paused to admire the neat work; then slowly walked over the\nbridge still thinking deeply. Suddenly he plumped himself right into the\narms of a tall, ungainly man, who had crossed from the other side.\n\nThe youth sprang back; then planted his lithe body exactly in the center\nof the bridge.\n\n\"Give way, fellow,\" roared the other, instantly. \"Make room for your\nbetters, or I will throw you into the brook!\"\n\nThe younger man laughed. \"I know this little stream right well, friend.\nTherefore I have no need to make that closer acquaintance of it which\nyou promise.\"\n\n\"You may be acquainted and yet make better acquaintance,\" returned his\nbig opponent, stirring not an inch. \"This bridge is too narrow for us\nboth. One must go back.\"\n\n\"Go back then, friend, by all means. I will not stay you.\"\n\n\"Now will I trounce you right well, stripling,\" cried the tall man,\ngrasping his cudgel. He made a pass or two with it about the head of the\nyouth.\n\nThe latter jumped back and fitted an arrow to his bow.\n\n\"Nay, by my body, but this is ungenerous of you, forester,\" cried the\ntall man. \"I have only a stick and you have a bow! If we are to fight,\nsurely you might fight fairly.\"\n\nAgain the youth laughed brightly. \"Nay, by my inches, friend,\" replied\nhe, \"but how can we fight fairly with staves when you are so much the\nbigger?\"\n\n\"Cut yourself a longer cudgel, friend,\" retorted the big fellow.\n\nThe youth threw down his bow, and, opening a knife which hung at his\nwaist, went forthwith towards the nearest bush. He cut himself a stout\nash staff and fell to trimming it deftly.\n\nWhen it was complete he came coolly up to his foe.\n\n\"Make ready, friend,\" said he, giving his cudgel a twirl. \"Now take tune\nfrom me. One, two----\"\n\n\"Three!\" roared the giant, smiting at him instantly.\n\nThe fight was a long one, for the youth had such skill and so ready a\nguard that the other but wasted his anger on him. This \"stripling\"\njumped from one side to the other so lightly and unexpectedly, and\nparried each thrust so surely, that presently the giant relaxed a little\nfrom the fury of his onslaught. Then the youth ran in and gave him such\na crack as to make the welkin ring.\n\n\"By my life, but you can hit hard!\" cried the giant, dropping his stick\nthat he might rub his pate. \"For so small a man that was a right hearty\nblow.\" He picked up his stick again. \"Fall to, spitfire. I am ready!\"\n\nThey sparred for a minute longer, and then the giant had his chance. He\ncaught the jumping youth so sound a thwack as to send him flying over\nthe low parapet of the bridge far into the bubbling brook. \"How now,\nspitfire? Have you had enough?\"\n\n\"Marry, that have I,\" spluttered his antagonist, trying to scramble out\nof the rushing water. Then he became dizzy again, and fell back with a\nlittle cry.\n\nThe big man vaulted down to his help, and plucked his foe to the bank.\nThere he laid him down on the grassy sward and fell to bathing his brows\nwith handfuls of fresh water till the youth opened his eyes again.\n\n\"Friend,\" said the stripling, gravely, sitting up, \"you dealt me that\nblow most skilfully. Tell me your name.\"\n\n\"Why,\" said the giant, a little awkwardly, \"as for the blow, 'twas but\nan under-cut that I know well. My name is John Little Nailor.\"\n\n\"You are anything but little, friend,\" answered the youth, struggling to\nhis feet. \"And now I will give you my name also.\" He put a horn to his\nlips at this and blew a strange, shrill note.\n\nForthwith the greenwood was alive with men, all dressed in grass-colored\nclothes like the youth's. They swarmed about him, full two score and ten\nof them. One of them, a little man, having eyed the stranger askance,\ngave a signal to the others to seize him; but the youth forbade this.\n\"The fight was a fair one, friends, and the right of this bridge\nbelongs for the moment to Master John Little Nailor. Take your rights,\nfriend,\" he went on, turning to the giant, \"and go upon your way.\"\n\n\"In a manner, stripling, you have now the better of this adventure, and\nyet do forbear,\" returned Master Nailor. \"Wherefore I like you well, and\nwould ask again your name.\"\n\n\"Tell him, Will,\" commanded the youth.\n\nThe little man, stepping up to the giant impudently, then announced his\nmaster. \"Know, fellow, that this is none other than a dead man--a\nwraith, indeed! At least, so saith Master Monceux, the lord Sheriff of\nNottingham. This is Robin Fitzooth.\"\n\n\"Then I am right sorry that I beat you,\" answered Master Nailor. \"And\nhad I known you at the first your head would now be whole and your body\nunbruised. By my inches, but I would like to join with you and your\ncompany.\"\n\n\"Enter our company, then, John Little; and be welcome. The rites are\nfew; but the fee is large: for we shall ask unswerving loyalty of you,\nand you must give a bond that you will be faithful even unto death.\"\n\n\"I give the bond, with all my soul, and on my very life,\" cried the tall\nman.\n\n\"Master,\" said the little man, who was none other than our friend\nStuteley, \"surely we cannot consent to welcome this fellow amongst us\nhaving such a name? Harkee, John Little,\" he continued, turning to the\ngiant, \"take your new name from me, since you are to be of our\nbrotherhood. I christen you Little John!\"\n\nAt this small jest the merry men laughed long and loud.\n\n\"Give him a bow and find a full sheath for our friend Little John,\nWarrenton,\" said Robin, joyfully. \"And hurry, friends, for surely it is\nthe moment when our first new defiance of Master Monceux is to be made?\nFall back into the woods speedily; and bide my signal. Little John, we\nnow will try you. Stand out on the bridge path you have just won from me\nand parley with those who are coming along the road from York. Speak\nloudly that I may hear what answers you win.\"\n\nHe gave a signal, and at once all disappeared even as they had come,\nswiftly and silently. Warrenton and Stuteley placed themselves low down\nbehind bushes of white thorn. Warrenton, who had given his quiver to\nLittle John, now produced a great bag from under a bush; and took out of\nit a dozen or more long smocks such as shepherds wear. Hastily Robin and\nStuteley attired themselves as hinds, and the old retainer gave them\neach a crook to hold. He explored again his stores under the bushes, and\ndragged out a fat buck, freshly killed and ready spitted for the fire.\n\nRobin and those of the freemen who were now attired in this simple garb\nhelped to pull the deer to the edge of the road; and, hastily making a\nfire, they soon had their meat cooking merrily. Little John eyed them\naskew, but made no offer to question them. He had recognized Robin by a\nsign which the other had given to him.\n\nMeanwhile the noise of a small company nearing them became more evident;\nand presently seven horsemen turned a bend of the road. Their leader was\na stout and haughty looking man clothed in episcopal garments, and so\nsoon as he spied these shepherds he spurred his horse until he came\nlevel with them.\n\nThen he drew bridle sharply, and addressed himself to Little John.\n\n\"Who are these, fellow, that make so free with the King's deer?\" he\nasked, mildly, as one who wishes first to believe the best of every man.\n\n\"These are shepherds, excellence,\" answered Little John.\n\n\"Heaven have mercy! They seem more like to be robbers o' th' greenwood\nat first glance,\" said the priest.\n\n\"One must not judge on half-hearing or half-seeing, lording,\" retorted\nLittle John.\n\n\"That is true, but I would question you further, good man. Tell me now\nwho has killed this deer, and by what right?\" His tones had passed\ninsensibly to an arrogant note.\n\n\"Give me first your name, excellence, so that I may know I speak where\n'tis fitting,\" said Little John, stubbornly.\n\n\"This is my lord the Bishop of Hereford, fellow,\" said one of the\nguards, fiercely. \"Keep a civil tongue in your head, or 'twill surely be\nbad for you!\"\n\nRobin now came forward. \"My lord,\" said he, bowing his curly head before\nthe Bishop, \"I did hear your questions, and will answer them in all\ntruth. We are but simple shepherds, and tend our flocks year in and year\nout about the forest of Sherwood, but, this being our holiday, we\nthought there would be small harm in holding it upon one of the King's\ndeer, since there are so many.\"\n\n\"You are saucy fellows, in sooth,\" cried the Bishop, \"and the King shall\nknow of your doings. Quit your roast, and come with me, for I will\nbring you to the Sheriff of Nottingham forthwith! Seize this knave, men,\nand bind his hands.\"\n\n\"Your pardon, excellence----\"\n\n\"No pardon shall you have of me, rascal!\" snapped the stout Bishop.\n\"Seize him, my men!\"\n\nRobin blew upon his horn a shrill, short note, and at once his freemen\nsprang out from behind the thorn-bushes and flung themselves on the\nbishop's guard. The good Bishop found himself a prisoner, and began to\ncrave indulgence of the men he had been so ready to upbraid.\n\n\"Nay, we will grant you no pardon, by my beard!\" said Little John,\nfiercely. \"Lend me that sword, friend,\" he added, turning to Stuteley,\nwho had taken the weapon from one of the Bishop's guards. \"Right\nskilfully will I make this church to be without a head.\"\n\n\"There shall be no shedding of blood,\" cried Robin, interposing, \"where\nI can stay it. Come, friends, send these fellows unto Nottingham with\ntheir legs tied under their horses' bellies. But my lord the Bishop of\nHereford shall come with us unto Barnesdale!\"\n\nThe unwilling prelate was dragged away cheek by jowl with the\nhalf-cooked venison on the back of his own horse, and Robin and the band\nbrought their guest to Barnesdale.\n\nAs soon as dusk had passed they lighted a great fire in the center of a\nlittle hill-bordered glade, and fell to roasting the deer afresh.\nAnother and fatter beast was set to frizzle upon the other side of the\nfire; and, as the night was chill, the men gathered close about their\nsavory dinner.\n\nThe Bishop sniffed the odorous air from his place of captivity; and was\nnothing loth when they offered to conduct him to this fine repast. Robin\nbade him take the best place.\n\n\"For you must know, excellence, that we freemen are all equal in each\nother's sight in this free land. Therefore we have no one whom we can\nspecially appoint to do the honors such as your station warrants. Take,\nthen, the seat at the head of our feast and give us grace before meat,\nas the occasion justifies.\"\n\nThe Bishop pronounced grace in the Latin tongue hastily; and then\nsettled himself to make the best of his lot. Red wines and ales were\nproduced and poured out, each man having a horn tankard from which to\ndrink.\n\nLaughter bubbled among the diners; and the Bishop caught himself smiling\nat more than one jest. Stuteley filled his beaker with good wine each\ntime the Bishop emptied it; and it was not until near midnight that\ntheir guest began to show signs that he wished to leave them.\n\n\"I wish, mine host,\" said he, gravely, to Robin, who had soberly drunk\nbut one cup of ale, \"that you would now call a reckoning. 'Tis late, and\nI fear the cost of this entertainment may be more than my poor purse\nwill permit to me.\"\n\n\"Why, there,\" answered Robin, as if perplexed, \"this is a matter in\nwhich I am in your lordship's hands, for never have I played\ntavern-keeper till now.\"\n\n\"I will take the reckoning, friends,\" said Little John, interposing. He\nwent into the shade and brought out the bishop's steed, then unfastened\nfrom the saddle a small bag. Someone gave him a cloak; and, spreading it\nupon the ground, Little John began to shake the contents of the Bishop's\nmoney-bag upon it.\n\nBright golden pieces tumbled out and glittered in the pale moonlight;\nwhile my lord of Hereford watched with wry face. Stuteley and Warrenton\ncounted the gold aloud.\n\n\"Three hundred and two pennies are there, master,\" cried Stuteley.\n\"Surely a good sum!\"\n\n\"'Tis strange,\" said Robin, musingly, \"but this is the very sum that I\nwas fain to ask of our guest.\"\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" began the Bishop, hastily, \"this is requiting me ill indeed.\nDid I not deal gently with your venison, which after all is much more\nthe King's venison than yours? Further, I am a poor man.\"\n\n\"You are the Bishop of Hereford,\" said Robin, \"and so can well afford to\ngive in charity this very sum. Who does not know of your hard dealings\nwith the poor and ignorant? Have you not amassed your wealth by less\nopen but more cruel robbery than this? Who speaks a good word for you or\nloves you, for all you are a Bishop? You have put your heels on men's\nnecks; and have been always an oppressor, greedy and without mercy. For\nall these things we take your money now, to hold it in trust and will\nadminister it properly and in God's name. There is an end of the matter,\nthen, unless you will lead us in a song to show that a better spirit is\ncome unto your body. Or mayhap you would sooner trip a measure?\"\n\n\"Neither the one nor the other will I do,\" snarled the Bishop.\n\nRobin made Stuteley a sign and Will brought his master a harp: whereupon\nRobin sat himself cross-legged beside the fire and twanged forth a\nlively tune.\n\nWarrenton and most of the men began forthwith to dance; and Stuteley,\nseizing the Bishop by one hand, commenced to hop up and down. Little\nJohn, laughing immoderately, grasped the luckless Bishop by the other\nhand, and between the two of them my lord of Hereford was forced to cut\nsome queer capers.\n\nThe moon flung their shadows fantastically upon the sward, and the more\ntheir guest struggled the more he was compelled to jump about. Robin put\nheart into his playing, and laughed with the loudest of them.\n\nAt last, quite exhausted, the Bishop sank to the ground.\n\nLittle John seized him then like a sack of wood, and flung him across\nthe back of his horse. Rapidly they led the beast across the uneven\nground until the highroad was reached, the whole of the band\naccompanying them, shouting and jesting noisily. The Bishop of Hereford,\nmore dead than alive, was then tied to his horse and the animal headed\nfor Nottingham.\n\n\"'Tis the most and the least that we can do for him,\" said Robin,\ngleefully. \"Give you good night, lording! A fair journey to you! Deliver\nour respectful homage to Master Monceux and to the rest of law-abiding\nNottingham! Come now, Little John, you have borne yourself well this\nday; and for my part I willingly give the right to be of this worshipful\ncompany of free men. What say you, friends all?\"\n\nThe giant was admitted by acclamation, and then all went back noisily\ninto that hiding-place in Barnesdale which had defied both the ferret\neyes of lean-faced Simeon Carfax and the Norman archer Hubert.\n\nThe Sheriff of Nottingham learned next day that Sherwood had not been\npurged of its toll-collectors, as he had so fondly hoped.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\n\nAfter the adventure with the good Bishop, Robin and his men waited in\nsome trepidation for a sign from Nottingham.\n\nHowever, several weeks passed without any untoward incident.\n\nThe fourth week after my lord of Hereford's despoilment a quarrel broke\nout betwixt Stuteley and Little John; and these two hot-headed fellows\nmust needs get from words to blows.\n\nIn the bouts of fencing and wrestling Little John could hold his own\nwith all; but at quarter-staff Stuteley could, and did, rap the giant's\nbody very shrewdly. After one bout both lost their temper: and Robin had\nto stay them by ordering Stuteley to cease the play.\n\nThis was in the forenoon. Later on, chance threw Little John and\nStuteley into a fresh dispute. It happened just before dusk; the two of\nthem from different parts of the wood had stalked and run to earth the\nsame stag. Little John had already drawn his bow when Stuteley espied\nhim. At once the little esquire called out that no one had the right to\nshoot such a deer but Robin of Locksley, his master. Little John scoffed\nat this, and flew his arrow; but between them they had startled the stag\nand it bounded away. Little John was furious with Stuteley, and the\nnoise of their quarrelling brought Robin again between them. This time\nyoung Robin spoke his mind to Little John, saying that he was sorry\nthat Master John Little Nailor had ever come into their free band.\n\n\"'Tis not free at all!\" cried Little John, raging. \"'Tis the most\ngalling of service. Here I may not do this nor that. I'll stay no more\nin Barnesdale, but try my fortunes with your foes.\"\n\nHe flung himself away from them, and when the roll was called that\nnight, the name of Little John evoked no response.\n\nRobin was vexed at this, and saw that they must come to some agreement\nif they would keep the company alive. He talked with Warrenton and Much\nand some of the others, and they all pressed him to assume the captaincy\nby right of his skill with the bow. They decided between them to have a\nfull council on the morrow and come to a decision: for without a captain\nthey were as a ship without a rudder.\n\nThe early morning found Robin walking thoughtfully in the greenwood. He\nhoped that he might discover Little John returning to them, repentant.\nHe had taken a strange liking to this great giant of a man.\n\nAs he walked, he drew insensibly toward the highroad; but had not nearly\nreached it when he came upon a herd of deer feeding peacefully in a\nglade. Robin got his bow ready. Before he could fit a shaft to it,\nhowever, one of the finest beasts fell suddenly, pierced by a clever\narrow.\n\nImmediately he thought that Little John had indeed returned; and was\nabout to emerge from his hiding-place, when a handsome little page ran\ngleefully towards the dying buck from the other side of the glade. This\nwas plainly the archer; and Robin, after a swift glance of surprise,\nmoved out upon him. \"How dare you shoot the King's beasts, stripling?\"\nasked Robin, very severely.\n\n\"I have as much right to shoot them as the King himself,\" answered the\npage, haughtily, and by no means afraid. \"And who are you who dares to\nquestion me?\"\n\nHis voice stirred Robin strangely; yet he could fit no memory properly\nto it. The lad was very handsome, slim, dark-haired, and with regular\nfeatures.\n\n\"My name is my own,\" said Robin to him, \"and I do not like your\nanswering of a plain question. Keep a civil tongue in your head, boy, or\nyou will one day be whipped.\"\n\n\"Not by you, forester,\" cried the page, pulling out a little sword. \"Put\nup your hands, or draw your weapon. You shall have such answering now as\nyou can understand.\"\n\nHe flourished his point valiantly; and Robin saw nothing for it but to\ndraw also. The page thereupon engaged him quite fiercely; but Robin soon\nperceived that the lad was no great master of the art of fencing.\n\nStill, he played prettily, and to end it Robin allowed himself to be\npricked on the hand. \"Are you satisfied, fellow?\" said the page, seeing\nthe blood rise to the wound.\n\n\"Ay, honestly,\" said Robin, \"and now, perhaps, you will grant me the\nprivilege of knowing to whom I owe this scratch?\"\n\n\"I am Gilbert of Blois,\" replied the page, with dignity; and again his\nvoice troubled Robin sorely. He was certain that he had met with it\nbefore; but this name was strange to his ears.\n\n\"What do you in the greenwood at such an hour, good Master Gilbert?\"\n\nThe lad considered his answer, whilst wiping his sword daintily with a\npretty kerchief. The action brought a dim confused memory to Robin--a\nblurred recollection of that scene discovered in the wizard's crystal\ntroubled his thoughts. Meanwhile the little page had condescended to\nglance upon him.\n\n\"Forester,\" said he, somewhat awkwardly, \"can you tell me--do you know\naught of one Robin o' th' Hood? He is believed to have been killed in\nthe fall o' last year, and truly they brought a body into Nottingham. He\nwas a merry youth.\"\n\n\"This is brother to my Marian!\" cried Robin, inwardly. \"Ay, for sure,\n'tis the lad Fitzwalter, and no Gilbert of Bloist Yet Warrenton did not\ntell me that there was a brother.\"\n\nHe replied to the page. \"Did not this fellow, this Robin, have other\nname? Robin o' th' Hood--why, all of them wear their capes and hoods\nnowadays--how can such a man as I know him whom you seek, to say whether\nhe be dead or alive?\"\n\n\"Forester, he was much like to you; but had no beard, nor was he quite\nso uncouth as you. I mean no offence. I saw him but twice; but he seemed\na lovable fellow. I remember that some called him Robin of Locksley.\"\n\n\"I knew him right well,\" said Robin, in decided tones. \"Come with me,\nMaster Gilbert, and you shall hear of him.\"\n\n\"He lives, then?\" The page's blue eyes glistened happily.\n\n\"Did your--sister send you, Master Gilbert?\" asked Robin, with his heart\nin his mouth.\n\nThe boy gave him a puzzled stare. \"My sister--who told you that I had a\nsister?\" Then, changing his policy with swift intuition: \"Ay, my sister\ndid send me to find the man. Bring me to him.\"\n\n\"Follow me, Master Gilbert of Blois,\" cried Robin. So Marian had\nremembered him. It was a happy morning, indeed!\n\n\"This poor stag,\" began the page, pointing to it. \"I wish now that I had\nnot slain it.\"\n\n\"'Tis one of the King's deer,\" observed Robin, grave again, \"and you may\nbe hanged for the killing of it. What put so desperate a business into\nyour mind, friend?\"\n\n\"I--to tell truth, had a notion to be made outlaw, like--like unto\nMaster Robin, in short,\" said the page. \"But I did not know that they\nmight hang me for't.\" He made a grimace.\n\nRobin went up to the beast and drew out the boy's arrow. Then he stuck\none of his own peacocked shafts into the wound. \"Now you are safe,\nGilbert,\" said he, smiling. \"Take the arrow, and keep it in your quiver\nuntil we can dispose of it. I leave my mark upon the buck--my fellows\nwill find and deal with it.\"\n\nThey walked together into Barnesdale, and Robin showed the boy their\nhiding-place and presented him to the rest. He asked that he might\nbecome one of their company, and all agreed. So he took the vow\nfervently, and was given Little John's place for the nonce.\n\nRobin asked them not to mention him by name, wishing to know more of\nMaster Gilbert's plans ere disclosing himself. The boy was full of\nchatter, and had news for them, too. He gave them the sequel to the\nBishop's adventure, and told how my lord of Hereford had come into\nNottingham in parlous state--more dead than alive: how he had lain\nprostrate upon a sick-bed in the Sheriff's house for the best part of\nthree days: how, having briefly recovered, he had made a full statement\nof his experiences, and had cursed the greenwood men with bell, book,\nand candle: how he had sworn that he they thought to be dead--Robin of\nLocksley--was very much alive and full of wickedness.\n\n\"Master Monceux, whom I have no cause to love,\" continued Gilbert, in\nquick speech, \"has bidden his archers and men to assemble, and has\npromised a round sum for the head of each greenwood man, such as I\nperceive you all to be, and since I am now of your company, friends, I\nsuppose my head is worth as much as Master Robin's or any of yours?\nWhich of you is Robin o' th' Hood? I fain would look upon a man who can\nrecover from death so valiantly.\"\n\nBerry and Much were, both together, preparing to point to Robin,\nforgetting their promise. Robin gave them a quick glance of warning.\n\"Come, friends, let us to breakfast,\" he cried, rising. \"I am sharp set,\nand soon we shall be hearing from the Sheriff's men, no doubt. Let us\nfortify ourselves withal.\"\n\nAll that morning went by, however, without further event. The greenwood\nmen became uneasy. All felt that some terrible plot was being hatched\nagainst them, and their unrest grew with the day. Had Little John turned\ntraitor? And was he now preparing their enemies?\n\nSoon after noon Robin called them together into the biggest of their\ncaves. He offered to disguise himself and go into Nottingham--there to\nlearn the best or worst.\n\nMany of them made objection to this, saying that one had no reason to\ntake more risk than another in this free company. Robin persuaded them\nat last to his own way of thinking, as he had already done before.\nUnconsciously they were coming to regard him as their head, although any\none of them would have fiercely denied this in open council. Robin took\na staff, and hurried towards the highroad for the second time that day.\n\nHe had another reason for making this adventure: the fond hope of seeing\nMistress Marian. Her brother--for so he felt sure this young Gilbert\nmust be--had stirred afresh in Robin's heart all his warm love for her.\nHe wondered what he could say to her.\n\nWhy, he could tell her of Gilbert's escapade! Of course she must be\ntrembling at this very moment for the boy and thinking him in a thousand\ndangers! It was another duty added to that to which Robin bore towards\nthe company of freemen. He doubled and trebled his pace.\n\nSuddenly, as he came upon the road, the sound of a lusty singing struck\nupon his ears. Robin became aware of a shabby cart and a bushy figure\nleading a bony horse, and the smell of fresh-killed meat. It was an\nhonest butcher on his way to market in Nottingham.\n\n\"Give you good day, friend,\" called Robin to him. \"You have a fair load\nthere--what is your price for it?\"\n\n\"Why, truly, beggar, a bigger price than you will pay, I fear,\" answered\nthe butcher, in the middle of his song.\n\n\"I will give you four pieces of gold for it,\" said Robin.\n\nThe butcher stopped his thin horse at once. \"Take the reins then,\nmaster,\" cried he, joyfully; \"the cart and all is yours for the sum!\nPay it to me, and I will go back into Locksley forthwith.\"\n\n\"Do you come from that village, friend?\" asked Robin, as he paid over\nthe gold, \"and are you not afraid to ride through Sherwood alone?\"\n\n\"You are strange to this country, friend,\" answered the jolly butcher,\n\"else you would know that now our Sherwood is free as air to all men.\nThe outlaws and wicked ones have all been driven out of it.\"\n\n\"Is this indeed so? Truly I am rejoiced at the news. And Locksley--is\nnot the Ranger there now dead, and his house burned? I do misremember\nhis name.\"\n\n\"Master Fitzooth is dead and lieth in Locksley ground. Also his son,\nwild Robin, is no more. He gave himself early to the outlaw band, and\nwas slain. We have a new Ranger at Locksley, one Adam of Kirklees, a\nworthy man and a generous. I thank you for your gold: now take my load\nand may fortune befriend you.\"\n\n\"God rest you, butcher,\" answered Robin, laughing, as the other turned\non his heel and began his song once more. \"Stay--stay--I have a\nthought,\" he called out after the butcher. \"How can I sell meat in this\ngarb?\"\n\nThe other paused and scratched his head doubtfully.\n\n\"I'll give you another piece for your clothes, friend,\" said Robin,\npersuasively. \"Is it a bargain?\"\n\n\"I'll do it for another piece,\" said the butcher. \"Ay, and think myself\nfortunate. This is a very happy day, for sure. Strip yourself, beggar;\nand you can hand your purse over to me with the rags if you care to!\"\n\nRobin laughed again and shook his head. The change was soon effected,\nand within ten minutes he was leading his spavined horse toward the\ngates of Nottingham. In the distance he could hear the butcher's loud\nsong losing itself in the forest sounds.\n\nHe smeared his face with grease and earth and rubbed his hair awry ere\ndaring to enter the city. Boldly he led his shuffling horse to the\nmarket and there took up his place. He had no notion of the price to\nask, and the folk, finding him so foolish and easy a man, soon began to\ncrowd about the cart.\n\nRobin gave as much for a penny as the other butchers did for five or six\nwhen his customer was poor. If he seemed to be a prosperous citizen who\nwould buy, Robin had quite another price for him.\n\nThe butchers about him could not quite understand these novel methods:\nbut they saw with envy that the harebrained fellow was selling all his\nmeat. His loud voice and foolish gestures made them think him some crazy\nloon who had slipped off with his good man's cart. They entered into\nconversation with him, and found his witless speech most entertaining.\n\nThey had all been bidden to a supper in the Sheriff's buttery that\nnight, this being holiday-time; and they begged Robin to join with them,\nhoping to have no little amusement from him. With a vacant stare he\nagreed to eat the Sheriff's mutton.\n\nAll the time he had sharp eyes and long ears; but could find out nothing\nof the Sheriff's plans, nor happen on sight of Mistress Fitzwalter. When\nthey were sitting down to the supper in Monceux's buttery he perceived\ntowering high amongst the Sheriff's servants the figure of Master Little\nJohn.\n\n\"So, friend, my visit here has not been vain,\" thought Robin, grimly.\n\"Now we shall see and hear things, no doubt.\" He settled himself to an\nattack upon the viands, and played his part with the Sheriff's ale, not\nforgetting to keep up the attitude of foolishness he had adopted in the\nmarket.\n\nThe laughter grew long and loud, and presently the Sheriff himself came\ndown. He made them a speech and gave a toast. My lord of Hereford,\nlooking very pale and limp, also came into the buttery for a space and\nmade them a Latin grace.\n\nThen Monceux told them, with bristling eyebrows, how he had been\ninstructed by the Bishop of Hereford that the pestilent evil bands whose\npower had once been broken had re-formed in Sherwood. The Sheriff\nre-stated the reward to be given for the head of any malefactor and\ndisturber of their laws, as ordered by Prince John; and said further\nthat in a few days he was going to despatch his men into and about the\nforest to satisfy the Bishop. \"Whilst I am preparing my fellows, there\nis a chance for all honest citizens and burgesses to earn a fair sum. My\nlord of Hereford will add his reward to the man who shall recover his\nmoney to him, or part of it; and I will give such man freedom from all\ntaxes and levies,\" added the Sheriff, importantly.\n\nRobin wondered whether Little John had spoken of the company. While he\nwas eyeing darkly the burly figure of Master Nailor, the latter came\nover to him under a pretence of filling Robin's glass.\n\n\"By my skin, Locksley,\" whispered the giant into his startled ear, \"this\nis a foolish adventure! Your head is as good as off your shoulders in\nthis place. Hasten to leave it soon as you can, for fear the Bishop may\nknow you as I have done.\"\n\nRobin only stared in his new half-vacant manner. Little John moved away\nto another part of the room. Hard questions formed themselves in Robin's\nmind--how had Little John known him? Stranger still, why did not my lord\nof Hereford recognize Master John Little Nailor? He had been foremost in\nthe business with the Bishop. Robin recollected, all at once, that when\nthe Bishop had briefly come in to bless the supper, Little John had gone\nout hurriedly with some dishes.\n\nThat was it, no doubt; but a mystery still remained. Robin decided to\npierce it ere the night was done. Some of the guests were far gone in\ntheir cups, already; and Monceux had given over the buttery to the\nbutchers for the night. \"I'll stay here then,\" decided Robin; and,\npretending to be suddenly overcome by the strong ale, he tumbled himself\ndown upon the rush-strewn floor.\n\nHe set up a great snoring, until Little John, taking him by the heels,\ndragged him through the kitchen into a little larder, and there shut the\ndoor on him. \"Lie there, nasty pig,\" cried Little John from outside with\ndisgusted air, for his fellow-servants to note. \"Lie there in a clean\nsty for once; and if you grunt again I will surely souse you under the\npump!\" At this threat Robin's snores abated somewhat in their violence.\n\n\"_I_ would drop him into the river forthwith,\" spoke a harsh voice,\nstartling Robin into fierce astonishment. There was no mistaking those\ntones: so cruel, so false, so malicious. \"Roger and Micah--Micah and\nRoger.\" One of these two villains it was of a surety! But Robin had seen\nthem both slain on the day of that battle wherein poor Will of\nCloudesley had perished?\n\nTrembling with amazement, he cautiously got upon his knees and peeped\nthrough the keyhole. In the flagged kitchen, amidst the reek of hot\nfoods and disordered dishes, were two men--one of them Little John. The\nother was dressed as a cook, and as he turned his face towards the light\nof the fire Robin knew him for one of the two traitor outlaws. He had\nchanged little.\n\nLittle John answered his remark over his shoulder: \"You would do many a\nrash thing, Roger, if you could,\" was all he said; but he spoke in\nsneering tone.\n\n\"Ay, marry; and one thing I would do, right instantly, dear gossip,\"\nsaid Roger, busying himself with the dishes. Robin saw that they shone\nlike gold in the ruddy light of the fire. \"I would not have _you_ as\nhelpmate in this kitchen had I the ordering of matters. Big hands and\nheavy hands and thieving hands. Ah, I need not be wizard to know them\nwhen I see them!\"\n\n\"You shall feel them, little Roger,\" said Little John, very angry. And\nhe soundly cuffed the cook about the head. Roger snarlingly drew back\nand snatched up a dish. Full viciously he flung it at Little John, and\nafter it another and another.\n\n[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN FIGHTS WITH THE COOK IN THE SHERIFF'S HOUSE\n\n_At last he made a dart upon Roger and the chase grew furious. Dishes,\nplates, covers, pots and pans--all that came in the way of them went\nflying._]\n\nThe first struck the giant's shoulder and fell clattering upon the red\ntiles. The second dish struck Little John as he recoiled and cut his\nforehead and head. Blood ran down instantly over his cheek. The third\nsmashed itself against the wall harmlessly. Drawing in his breath,\nLittle John commenced a long chase of his foe, who had raced off to the\nother side of the table.\n\nNeither man spoke, but each eyed the other warily. Anger shone on one\nface, jealous hate upon the other. They moved round and round the table\ncarefully.\n\nThere were knives in plenty upon it; and every now and again Roger would\nseize one and fling it hurriedly at his enemy. Little John ruthlessly\nfollowed him, without flinching or abating his set purpose by one jot.\n\nAt last he made a dart upon Roger and the chase grew furious. Dishes,\nplates, covers, pots and pans--all that came in the way of them went\nflying. The noise was awful; then suddenly ceased--for Little John had\ngrasped his prey by the short skirt of his tunic. In another second of\ntime Roger was secured, fluttering, cursing, and green with a sick\nterror.\n\nLittle John lifted him up bodily and flung him with all his strength\nagainst the wall of the kitchen. He rebounded from the wall to the\ndresser; and in convulsive agony gripped hold of those utensils near\nhim. All fell, with reverberations of sound, downward with him to the\nground. There Roger lay still--save for a slight and hideous twitching\nof his mouth.\n\nLittle John opened the door to Robin. \"Hasten--hasten away from here,\nsoon as you can. There is danger and death.\"\n\n\"And you?\"\n\n\"I shall escape. I have a story for them.\" Little John suddenly pushed\nRobin back into the larder. \"'Tis too late: be silent on your life.\"\n\nSome servants, alarmed by the din, entered. They found Little John, the\nnew kitchen-drawer, bending in consternation over the lifeless form of\nthe cook. \"Run, run,\" cried he, scarce glancing at them. \"Here is Roger\nthe cook suddenly dying. His brain has given way. See how the foam\nflecks upon his lips. Get me water for him. Or stay, help me carry him\nto his bed.\"\n\nLittle John picked him up tenderly and with a face full of seeming\nconcern. The others, aghast at the mere thought of touching a madman,\nshrank back. The giant carried the unconscious Roger out of the kitchen.\n\nThe servants came and busied themselves in restoring the kitchen to\norder. One of them opened the larder; but Robin had laid himself full\nlength upon the top shelf. So he was not discovered.\n\nThe night wore on and most of the servants went yawningly to bed. Little\nJohn returned, telling the few who remained that the cook was recovered\nfrom his fit; but was still delirious and unsafe. \"I will bank the fire\nand sleep here, so that I may be able to go to him,\" continued Little\nJohn, with a kind air. \"By my wits, but he did mightily scare me when\nfirst the distemper showed in him. He sliced me with the spit. See how\nmy head is cut, and my cheek shows you how his horrid teeth did meet in\nmy flesh.\"\n\n\"Did he indeed bite you, Master Nailor?\"\n\n\"By my bones, he bit and tore me like a wild beast. But since I am so\nbig and not fearful of him I will e'en watch him through the night,\nunless you choose to do service, Mickleham?\"\n\nMickleham swore roundly that he would not.\n\n\"Then get you gone, gossip,\" said the giant, busying himself with the\nfire. \"'Tis late: and my lord of Hereford has business abroad at an\nearly hour.\"\n\nHe bade Robin go back into the buttery and stay there until dawn, there\nbeing no chance of escape out of the castle at this hour. \"Play your\npart, Locksley, and avoid the Bishop's eyes--even as have I. We may meet\non the morrow.\"\n\n\"You have not betrayed us, Little John?\"\n\n\"Roger the cook was to have sold you. Therefore have I quietened him for\nthe nonce. Here's my hand on it, Locksley: that Little John is loyal.\nBut I do not love Stuteley yet.\"\n\n\"It will come in time,\" answered Robin, sleepily. \"You are both sound\nfellows. Give you good night, honest John. I'll sleep none the worse for\nmy pillow.\" He stretched himself amid the trampled rushes of the\nbuttery, and laid his head upon the prone body of one of the sleeping\nbutchers. Full a dozen of them had fallen into slumber to the Sheriffs\nrush-bottomed buttery floor.\n\nLittle John went back to the kitchen and there carefully and silently\ncollected Master Monceux's gold plate. He put it all into a stout sack,\ntied it up, and waited patiently for dawn.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\n\nRobin woke from a heavy slumber at daybreak. A faint noise from without\nthe buttery disturbed him. He very quietly rose up, and, picking his way\nacross the room, came to the entrance to the kitchens. He opened one of\nthe doors and found a passage, grey-lit by the first gleam of dawn.\n\nAt the end of it was the figure of a man. His height revealed him for\nLittle John. Over his shoulders was a short sack.\n\nSeeing Robin, he beckoned to him; then whispered his plans. But Robin\ndid not intend to leave Nottingham so soon.\n\n\"Go, Little John, and take that which is in your sack----\"\n\n\"I shall bring it to you, gossip,\" spoke Little John, in a muffled\nvoice: \"to your haunts in Barnesdale. You shall see who is the better\nservant--Stuteley or myself. Here have I the Sheriff's plate----\"\n\nAn audacious notion flashed upon Robin.\n\n\"Take it to our cave in Barnesdale, honest John,\" said he, swiftly,\nindicating the sack, \"and, harkee; I will follow later with such a guest\nas never our greenwood has yet carried. Lay out a royal feast and kill\none of the fattest bucks. Take my dagger in token to them that I have\nsent you.\"\n\n\"Who will you bring with you, gossip? Not my lord of Hereford?\"\n\n\"I will bring Monceux himself,\" said Robin, boldly. \"Leave the business\nin my hands. Go now, if you know a safe road from out of this place.\"\n\n\"I have a friend at the gate who will ask me no questions,\" answered\nLittle John, softly. \"But you?\"\n\n\"My wit shall lead me out from Nottingham,\" Robin told him.\n\nLittle John let himself out by one of the postern doors, and found means\nto convey the Sheriff's plate through the streets. Afterwards when he\nreached the gate, he continued to win his passage by pure statesmanship,\npretending that he had been sent out at that strange hour to snare young\nrabbits for his lord's breakfast!\n\nMeanwhile, Robin returned to the buttery, and waited for events to shape\nthemselves. Ere long the butchers began yawning and quarrelling betwixt\nthemselves; and Robin artfully persuaded them, by setting one against\nthe other, to a free fight.\n\nThe servants separated them, and in anger bade them all begone. Robin\nbesought them to let him stay, saying that he wished an audience with my\nlord the Sheriff.\n\n\"Out upon you, pestilent fellow!\" cried one of the servants. \"You scum\nof the earth! This comes of hobnobbing with such rascals. Go hence\nquickly, with your fellows, or we will break all your bones.\"\n\nSo were they all bustled out into the cold streets, and Robin, in his\nbutcher's smock, went back, as if very crest-fallen, to his empty cart\nand lean horse.\n\nIn due season the servants found that the Sheriff's new kitchen-hand\nwas gone, and with him the gold plate. Then they remembered how he had\nbeen found with the cook.\n\nRoger was plucked out of his bed, with all his bruises and wounds upon\nhim, to give evidence before Monceux, who was in a great fume. All that\nspite and jealousy might do Roger performed with gusto, and so fixed the\nblame upon Little John that no one else was even suspected.\n\nRoger would have now spoken as to Barnesdale, and betrayed the secret\ncaves to the Sheriff; but he had once before persuaded them to search\nthe cave near Gamewell, with ill results.\n\n\"Enough of these tales,\" snarled the Sheriff; \"keep them for the\nBishop's ears. _I_ am concerned for my plate; and will recover it ere I\nput forth on any other enterprise.\"\n\nHe sent out his archers and men-at-arms, with such an incoherent\ndescription of Little John that near all the tall men of Nottingham were\nbrought under arrest. The gate-keeper who had been so foolish as to open\nto Little John became so fearful of the Sheriff's anger that, when they\nquestioned him, he vowed by all the saints that he had clapped eyes on\nno such fellow in his life.\n\nMonceux, getting more and more enraged, chanced at last upon the\nbutchers. He bade them all to be brought before him.\n\nSmall comfort did he gather from any, least of all from Robin, who\nbehaved in so foolish a manner before the great man that all who had not\nbelieved him crazy before, were now well sure of it.\n\nHe would persist in talking to the irate lord of his own affairs: how\nhe had just inherited a farm with many head of cattle--such beasts! how\nhe had sold some of them in the market on the previous day for large\nmoneys; how he intended to always sell at Nottingham, since there the\npeople were so rich and generous.\n\n\"I have full five hundred and ten horned beasts upon my land that I will\nsell for a just figure,\" said Robin. \"Ay, to him who will pay me in\nright money will I sell them for twenty pieces. Is that too much to ask,\nlording?\"\n\nMonceux, in the midst of his frenzy, suddenly quieted down. This was the\nidiot butcher of whom people had been chattering. No use to bluster and\nthreaten him.\n\nFive hundred and ten fat beasts for twenty pieces! Was ever such a fool?\n\"I'll buy your beasts of you, butcher,\" said Monceux, \"and will give you\ntwice the money you ask.\"\n\nAt this Robin was quite overcome, and fell to praising him to the skies.\nFor the moment the missing plate was forgotten.\n\n\"Drive in your beasts, butcher,\" said Monceux.\n\n\"They are but at Gamewell, excellence,\" said Robin; \"not more than a\nmile beyond it at most. Will you not come and choose your own beasts?\nThe day is fine.\"\n\nThe Sheriff dismissed all but Robin, in order that they might settle it\nquietly. If he did not close upon this bargain straightway it would be\nlost to him.\n\nAfter some hesitation, \"I will go with you, butcher,\" spoke Master\nMonceux. After all, what had he to fear? Surely no man, be he ever so\nwicked and desperate an outlaw, would _dare_ to lay hands upon the\nSheriff of Nottingham!\n\nMonceux had all along suspected the Bishop of Hereford's story. There\nwere no robbers in Sherwood now--the Bishop had invented the tale in\norder to cover up some disgraceful carousal, and had bribed his men. It\nhad been a plot by which my lord of Hereford had been able to foist\nhimself and his company upon the Sheriff, and so gain both free lodging\nin Nottingham and save giving in charity to the poor folk of the town.\n\nThus Master Monceux argued swiftly within himself.\n\n\"Get ready, butcher, for,\" he said, briskly, \"I will join you in a few\nminutes.\"\n\nHe laid a solemn and dreadful charge upon the captain of his men-at-arms\nand upon those of his household to find him his plate ere he returned.\nHe swore that their own goods should be seized and sold if they failed\nhim in this matter!\n\nThen he affected to be going in secret search himself.\n\nSo the two of them, without guard, went off together, Robin driving his\nshambling horse and rickety cart beside the Sheriff's little fat brown\npony.\n\nThey passed through the gate, and Monceux left word there that his\narchers were to follow him to Gamewell so soon as they had returned from\ntheir searching for his plate.\n\nRobin was very gay, and kept the Sheriff amused with his foolish\nchattering. Monceux congratulated himself more and more.\n\nThey had drawn nigh to Gamewell, and to that little gravel-pit wherein\nwas one of the hidden passages to the Barnesdale caves. Peering\nirresolute through the tree-trunks far off to their right, Robin spied a\nherd of deer.\n\nThey stood and trembled at sight of Robin and the Sheriff, preparing to\nstampede.\n\nRobin guessed that they had been driven by the greenwood men all that\nday--that perchance Stuteley and the rest were near the beasts, in\nambush. Reining in his lean horse, he turned in his cart to call to the\nSheriff.\n\n\"See, excellence, here are my beasts, coming to welcome me! Now choose\nthose which your eyes like and pay me the gold.\"\n\nMonceux saw then that he had been duped, and flew into a terrible\npassion. Robin cut his reproaches very short, however; and, taking off\nhis butcher's smock, blew on his horn that short, queer signal.\n\nThe Sheriff turned to fly, but had not travelled a hundred yards ere,\nhearing an uncomfortable hissing sound, made by an arrow, as it flew\njust over his head, thought it better to stop. Robin had hidden his bow\nand quiver in the straw at the bottom of the butcher's cart. He now\nstood up and sped his shafts all round and about the poor Sheriff.\n\nThen Monceux reined up his fat pony and surrendered himself grudgingly,\ntrying to bargain all the while. \"If I give you my horse, and a golden\npenny, will you let me go, butcher?\" said he, whiningly. \"Did I not\ntreat you well last night, giving you a fair supper and much ale? This\nis ill requiting my usage of you, butcher.\"\n\nSuddenly he saw himself surrounded by the men of the greenwood, headed\nby Stuteley. Robin nodded, and in a moment the Sheriff was seized and\nhurried away to the gravel-pit, and his pony was set galloping in the\ndirection of Nottingham with empty saddle.\n\nThe greenwood men soon brought their captive through the dangerous\npassage, having first blindfolded him. Within five hours of his\ndeparture from Nottingham my lord the Sheriff found himself in a\nstrange, unknown part of Sherwood, seated amongst two score and ten wild\nfellows, to a wilder meal of venison, brown bread, and wine.\n\nWith a shock of surprise he saw that the hot, juicy portion of the\nKing's beast handed to him as his share was smoking fragrantly upon a\ngolden plate. He glanced around from the merry faces of the lawless men\nto the dishes and plates from which they were eating. All were of gold\nand very familiar.\n\nHis rolling eye encountered that of Little John's, coolly helping\nhimself to a second serve. \"You rascal! you rogue!\" spluttered Monceux.\n\"You scum of the kitchens! Where is my plate? You shall be shred into\nlittle pieces for this trick, and you also, false butcher.\"\n\n\"Nay, excellence,\" said a gentle voice near to him, \"this is no butcher;\nbut rather Master Robin o' th' Hood, a good yeoman and right Saxon. Some\ncall him Robin of Locksley. Let me fill your goblet, excellence, for you\nhave spilled all the wine.\"\n\nMonceux glared at the speaker, a handsome lad dressed gaily in page's\ncostume. The Sheriff's frown would have frightened most people, but the\ndark-haired boy only laughed and tossed his head in a queerly\nfascinating way. The Sheriff, relaxing, held out his goblet, and smiled\nback upon the page.\n\n\"Well done, Master Gilbert of Blois!\" cried Robin, who sat at the\nSheriff's left hand. \"Now tell me how you discovered me, and I will love\nyou----\"\n\nThe lad blushed furiously. \"I knew you from the first, Robin o' th'\nHood,\" he answered, defiantly.\n\n\"In truth?\" questioned Robin, slily, and with his own suspicions\ngrowing. No wonder he had seen nothing of Marian in Nottingham town.\n\n\"In truth--well, no,\" submitted the page. \"Let me fill your tankard,\nfriend. But very soon I did discover you. Is this the stag that you\nkilled, Robin o' th' Hood?\" he added, innocently.\n\nRobin nodded; and the Sheriff flashed another look of anger upon him.\n\"Sit you beside me, Gilbert,\" Robin ordered; \"I am very fain to have\nspeech with you.\"\n\nMarian, with her woman's intuition, knew from his tone that she also was\ndiscovered. Yet she braved it out. \"I will fill all the cups, Robin o'\nth' Hood,\" she said, firmly, with an adorable little shake of her black\ncurls; \"then will hear your adventures as a Nottingham butcher, which I\nsee you are dying to tell to us.\"\n\nThe page skipped lightly from under Robin's threatening hand, and the\nmerry men laughed loud and long. \"He calls you Robin o' th' Hood,\nmaster!\" cried John Berry, roaring like a bull. For some reason this\nnick-name tickled him mightily. He kept repeating it in all kinds of\ntones, and those about him began to laugh also.\n\n\"'Tis a very excellent name,\" said Robin, a little vexed. \"A merry name,\na man's name, and a name to my heart! I do adopt it from this day; for\nis not Robin Fitzooth of Locksley dead? My lord the Sheriff can tell you\nthat he is, for he has burned him. Laugh at it, or like it, friends,\nwhich you will. But pledge me in it, for I have paid the reckoning.\"\n\nLittle John, Stuteley, and Much rose to their feet together in their\nhurry to be first. The others were not slow in following them.\n\n\"Long life to you and happiness, Robin o' th' Hood! Here's fortune's\nbest and confusion to all your enemies! Huzza, Robin o' th' Hood!\"\n\nThe darkening woods echoed it back to them. \"Robin o' th' Hood!\nRobin--Hood!\"\n\n\"You will have to be christened, gossip,\" said Little John, with an air\nof importance; \"and surely I know the man who will be sponsor. But you\nspoke just now of a reckoning; and I do see that our guest is become\nfidgety. Shall I tot up the bill for him?\"\n\n\"Do so, friend.\"\n\nThe Sheriff appeared uneasy at this. \"I have not my purse with me,\" he\nbegan, apologetically.\n\n\"How did you purpose paying me for my beasts?\" asked Robin.\n\n\"Why--that is--I have, of course, a small sum about me.\"\n\n\"What is that sum, gossip?\" questioned Little John, very kindly.\n\n\"'Tis no more than forty pieces of gold,\" said Monceux, recollecting\nthat he had named this amount to Robin.\n\n\"Is that all?\"\n\n\"I have not another penny-piece, good Master Hood,\" replied the\nSheriff.\n\n\"If that is true, then you shall pay no more than ten pieces of gold for\nyour entertainment, excellence,\" decreed Robin. \"Speak I soothly, men of\nthe greenwood?\"\n\n\"The Sheriff should swear by his patron saint that he will never more\nmolest us,\" said one of the company, wisely; and this addition was\ncarried unanimously.\n\n\"So be it, then,\" cried Little John, approaching Monceux. \"Now, swear by\nyour life and your patron saint----\"\n\n\"I will swear it by St. George, who is patron of us all,\" cried the fat\nSheriff, vigorously; and he swore that never again would he disturb or\ndistress them in Sherwood.\n\n\"Let me catch anyone of you _out_ of it!\" thought he to himself.\n\nThen he paid them ten pieces of gold; and having done this, rose up to\ngo.\n\nIt was already full dusk. \"Gossip,\" observed Little John, reprovingly,\n\"you did not hand me your wallet, but took out instead the ten golden\npieces. Let me see for myself that thirty remain. Mayhap some evil\nperson has robbed you unbeknown.\"\n\n\"Nay--I do not think that,\" said the Sheriff, quickly; \"I take great\ncare of all my belongings----\"\n\n\"Yet you may have been despoiled,\" persisted Little John; \"permit me to\nsatisfy myself and this company that you have had honorable treatment in\nthese happy woods.\"\n\nWith a groan Monceux yielded his wallet, and Stuteley counted out the\nmoney in it with a loud voice; otherwise the company was silent. \"There\nis another wallet, gossip,\" said the inexorable Little John, pointing\ntowards the Sheriff's belt.\n\nIn all they counted out one hundred gold pieces. \"We must add another\n'nought' to the foot of our bill, excellence,\" said Robin, gravely. \"Be\nof good heart; what is 'nought' but nothing? Ten pounds and a 'nought'\nadded to it is a most reasonable account for such royal fare. Take then\nthis money which you first gave me; we will keep the wallets.\"\n\n\"'Tis monstrous! 'Tis an enormity,\" bellowed Monceux, flying out.\n\"Already you have stolen my plate, and now would strip me utterly! 'Tis\nrank villainy, and I promise you all----\"\n\n\"You have promised enough to-night, Sheriff,\" retorted Robin: \"away with\nhim, Stuteley, and go you, too, Little John. Take our guest through the\nsecret path so far as the roadway by Nottingham gate. There he may find\nhis archers waiting for him. Be speedy.\"\n\nThey nodded and grasped the struggling Sheriff by either arm. His eyes\nwere speedily bandaged by little Gilbert, and he made an undignified\nexit. Whilst the rest busied themselves removing the remains of the\nfeast, Robin spoke quietly with the page.\n\n\"Since Little John has happily returned to us, Master Gilbert,\" said\nRobin, \"'tis clear that he will want his quarters again. So I must move\nyou.\"\n\n\"It matters not, Robin.\"\n\n\"You are over young to consort with such wild company, Gilbert,\" Robin\ncontinued; \"and so I will take you to a safe asylum, unless, of course,\nyou would sooner return into Nottingham.\"\n\n\"I have now no real home in Nottingham,\" said Marian, frankly. \"My\nfather has gone to London to find us a home there. He has been offered a\npost in the King's household. So soon as he had departed they sent for\nme to attend at the Sheriff's castle, saying I was to become maid to the\ndemoiselle Marie. This I would not; and so escaped in the early dawn of\nthe day----\"\n\n\"I have a friend at Gamewell,\" said Robin, diffidently. \"In sooth, it is\nmine own uncle, and he surely would not refuse me in this. Will you go\nwith me, Gilbert, at once? Soon it will be night indeed.\"\n\n\"I'll go anywhere with you, Robin,\" answered the little page.\n\nYet Robin would not affect to recognize Marian, though his heart was\nthumping in his body. He led her silently, hastily, through the strange\npassages towards Gamewell, thinking how he should bring a welcome for\nthe maid.\n\n\"You are not talkative, friend Robin,\" murmured his companion once.\n\n\"My heart is too full for speech, Gilbert,\" said Robin, softly then; and\nthis answer seemed to satisfy Master Gilbert of Blois. Under the night\nhe smiled happily to himself.\n\n\"Is this your bad hand, Robin?\" he asked, presently, \"the one that I did\nwound? Poor fingers! I am sorry now. Can you forgive me, Robin?\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\n\nWhen they had reached the little hut near by the pleasance, Robin bade\nher stay. \"I now must play Yellow Lady,\" said he, lightly. \"She is the\nspirit of this grove, and under her guise I can venture near to the\nhouse. Lend me your cloak--the color will not matter on so dark a\nnight.\"\n\n\"I will not be left alone here,\" said Marian at this, with great\ndecision. \"Not for all the Montfichets in Christendom. I'll go with\nyou.\"\n\nThey crossed the pleasance side by side. Lights burned within Gamewell\nto guide them.\n\n\"I am not afraid, Robin,\" announced Master Gilbert of Blois,\ncourageously. \"You know I am no coward.\"\n\n\"Take my hand then,\" said Robin; \"I like to feel that you are with me.\"\n\n\"Yet you have but known me a day,\" said Marian, trying to peep at him.\nHer tone was questioning and full of pretty malice.\n\nHe had a mind then to take her in his arms, but again forebore. \"Be\nsilent now,\" whispered he; \"I must proclaim myself. I have scarce\nknowledge of the servants here, my chief friend being old Warrenton, and\nhe is in the greenwood.\"\n\n\"Let us go back there,\" suggested his companion; \"I am willing to risk\nthe wild beasts and the Sheriffs wrath.\"\n\n\"'Tis no place for you,\" said Robin. \"Here you will be both safe and\ncomfortable.\"\n\n\"I do not like the shape of this house,\" argued Marian. \"I do not feel\nthat I will be happy in it.\"\n\n\"It is a home worthy to be your sister's, let alone yours, Master\nGilbert. Now be done with your grumbling, for here you shall stay until\nyour father's return.\"\n\nAt this she made a grimace, but obeyed him meekly, notwithstanding. As\nthey drew near to the courtyard, Robin bade her follow him cautiously\nuntil they had made a full circle of it, and crept round to the front of\nthe hall.\n\nBy good fortune the bridge was down. Old Gamewell had no fear of the\nworld, it would seem. They might pretend now that they had crossed to\nthe hall from the road. Robin wound his horn suddenly and confidently.\n\nThe dogs within Gamewell began to bark and growl, and presently they\nheard sounds of approach. In a moment more the doors were opened and\nthey saw a servant armed with a lanthorn and a stick.\n\n\"I would have audience with Master Montfichet,\" said Robin, in a bold\nvoice. \"Pray take me to him at once.\"\n\n\"Do you come from Nottingham?\" asked the man, civilly.\n\n\"I left there this day,\" replied Robin.\n\n\"Follow me,\" said the servant, briefly. He waited until they were safely\ninside; then closed the doors carefully. He led them across the court to\nthe inner doors.\n\nHere another fellow was in waiting, also carrying a light. \"These are\ntravellers from Nottingham, desiring audience of Master Gamewell,\"\nobserved the first servant.\n\n\"Your names, gentles?\" asked the second.\n\n\"I am Robin o' th' Hood, and this is Master Gilbert of Blois,\" said\nRobin, at once.\n\nThey were escorted into the great hall, and there, sat beside the open\nhearth, was old Squire George. He made a pathetic figure. Robin felt his\nheart go out to him.\n\nYet even when he had satisfied himself in a single glance as to the\nidentity of one of the late-coming guests, Montfichet gave no sign. His\nwas a strange nature, and he could not forgive Robin his innocent\ndeceit.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Robin, respectfully, \"I do feel shame in coming before you\nwithout waiting for your word of welcome. My errand must be my excuse.\"\n\n\"'Tis Robin Fitzooth!\" said old Montfichet, then. \"I was told that you\nhad been killed long since.\"\n\n\"Robin Fitzooth is truly dead, sir. Behold in his place Robin o' th'\nHood. I come to ask a service at your hands for the memory of this dead\nman, and in redemption of your promise given to him once in Nottingham.\"\n\n\"Ask it, friend.\"\n\nThe Squire's tones were kinder. Looking at him, Robin saw that he had\naged. There were no longer signs of that fastidious attention to his\napparel which had characterized Montfichet of Gamewell.\n\n\"There is, sir, a maid who, losing her father on a journey to London,\nhath had great trouble put upon her by the Sheriff. Monceux would\npersecute her, in short; and she has flown from the city. Now, I would\nask an asylum for her here.\"\n\n\"She shall be made welcome and given full freedom of Gamewell,\"\nanswered Montfichet, rising. \"I shall rejoice to see her here, in sooth,\nfor my days lack company. When will you bring her to me, Master Robin o'\nth' Hood, and pray what makes you wear so strange a name?\"\n\nHe spoke quite in his old manner, and half smiled at them. He glanced\ntoward Master Gilbert of Blois. \"Is this your little esquire, young\nStuteley?\" asked he, lifting his brows. \"Truly he has grown out of all\nmemory.\"\n\nRobin felt himself to be in an awkward fix. His eyes glanced from one to\nthe other. Marian, at last, took pity on his distress. \"Good my lord,\"\nsaid she, with that pretty shake of her dark curls, \"I am the maid for\nwhom Master Robin pleads so earnestly. I am Marian Fitzwalter out of her\npetticoats and into a boy's clothes. I had no other way of flying from\nNottingham, so behold me for the nonce as Gilbert of Blois.\"\n\nThe Squire listened, and slowly his face relaxed. Anything spirited or\ndaring always appealed to him strongly. \"You are a pretty page, I swear,\nMaster Gilbert! Sure it will be hard for you to make fairer maid than\nman. Welcome either way to Gamewell. I'll keep you safe from Monceux; I\nhave no love for him in any case. You have fasted to-day, no doubt; I'll\nhave supper brought us here.\"\n\n\"We have already supped, sir,\" said Robin, relieved to find this easy\nway out of a difficult business. He had the hope that Marian would in\nsome way bring about a reconciliation between him and the Squire.\n\n\"We will sup a second time,\" said Montfichet. \"Ho there! bring us a\npasty and a flagon! Hurry, knaves, bring us the best of our larder.\nCome, Robin, sit here at my right hand, and you, Gilbert, by his side.\nAnd so already it has come to this, Robin? Will not the greenwoods seem\ndull to-morrow?\"\n\n\"Mayhap I might change them for a seat at your table on occasion, sir?\"\nasked Robin.\n\n\"To see how badly I treat my guest? Is that it? Come when you will,\nRobin o' th' Hood. Tell me now, why did you choose this name? Another\nwas offered you.\"\n\n\"Ask Master Gilbert here, sir--he is responsible for't. And, honestly, I\ndo like the name--'tis uncommon. May I pledge you, sir? Here's to our\nfriendship! May we grow old in it and ripe in it!\"\n\n\"I have no wish, Robin, to grow either old or ripe,\" said Marian,\nsettling herself. \"Let us eat first, and make our speeches afterward.\nHelp me to the pasty before you, and do not chatter so much.\"\n\nSquire George nodded in approval. \"Spoken like a man,\" cried he. \"Robin\nis too full of words to-night. Ay, but I am right glad to see him here,\nfor all that! Fill your glass, kinsman, and the lady's. Nay, look not so\ndistressed at her; up to the top, man, up to the top! This is no time\nfor half-measures.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the morning when Robin came blithely from his bed--the first bed that\nhe had known for many months--he found the Squire waiting for him in the\nhall. His face was grave. \"I must speed you, Robin,\" said he; \"I have\nnews that Monceux is abroad, and will attack your company at\nBarnesdale.\"\n\nRobin had told him all, and the Squire had neither approved nor\ndisapproved. Working in his mind was jealous wonderment that Robin\nshould prefer such a life to that which might have been his at Gamewell.\nThe Squire made no show of this, however.\n\n\"I will guard Mistress Fitzwalter from all harm, rely upon me. And go,\nsince you must. Here is our Master Gilbert--Gilbert no more. I should\nscarcely have known her.\"\n\nMarian entered from the other end of the hall. The maids had found her a\ndress, grey-blue as her eyes. She bloomed like an early rose on this\nsweet spring morning.\n\n\"And you are going to leave me, Robin?\" she said, mournfully.\n\nThe Squire had disappeared. Robin, approaching, took her hand. He looked\nup from it, and saw the golden arrow gleaming in her hair--that arrow\nwhich had so strangely marked the beginning of his troubles. Marian\nsmiled, and her eyes invited him.\n\nAnd so these two kissed each other frankly, mouth to mouth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA little later Robin was speeding through the forest. His feet were\nlight, and he sang softly to himself as he trod the springy grass.\n\nSuddenly a sad song broke upon his ear. 'Twas a doleful song, full of\ntears; and Robin, in consternation, stopped short.\n\nAlong the woodland path there came towards him a minstrel carrying a\nharp and trailing a rope. \"Marry, friend, but your harp is out of all\nharmony!\" began Robin.\n\n\"I do not play upon it,\" retorted the minstrel.\n\n\"You sing a sad song,\" said Robin; \"and I, who am happy, am put out of\ncountenance by it. Therefore sing it not until I am far from you.\"\n\n\"My heart overflows with sorrow,\" said the minstrel, \"and so I must sing\nof sadness and of death.\"\n\n\"Tell me your sorrow, friend,\" Robin begged, \"and walk with me back upon\nthe road. Like as not I can help you.\"\n\n\"I should not speak my grief to you,\" the minstrel told him, \"for you\nare happy.\"\n\n\"One who lives in the greenwood cannot be otherwise,\" observed Robin.\n\"Come, walk with me, and coil the rope.\"\n\n\"I had brought it,\" said the minstrel, \"so that I might hang myself to\nsome old oak, and thus fittingly end the wretched, misfortunate life of\nAllan-a-Dale.\"\n\nRobin perceived that there was a story to follow. \"Walk with me, gossip,\nand ease your heart in confidence,\" he said, cheerfully. \"I can likely\nhelp you. To-day is my lucky day.\"\n\n\"Know then, happy stranger, that I have lost my dear, and through no\nfault of mine own,\" said Allan-a-Dale, as they walked together. \"A\nwealthy baron has taken my love from me, and will marry her this very\nday; so I have come into these quiet woods that I may kill myself, for\nnever can I live without my Fennel.\"\n\n\"Is that her name? 'Tis very quaint.\"\n\n\"'Tis a fitting name, gossip. Fennel means 'Worthy of all praise,' and\nshe is the most worthy of all maids.\"\n\n\"Perchance you do not know many maids, friend,\" said Robin. \"Tell me, is\nshe dark-haired, and are her eyes sweet as violets?\"\n\n\"In sooth, her eyes are blue enough, gossip,\" said Allan; \"but her hair\nis like finespun gold. And she has a little straight nose, and such a\ntender smile. Marry, when I think upon her many perfections my heart\ndoth leap, to sink again when I mind me that I have lost her.\"\n\n\"And why have you lost her, Allan-a-Dale?\"\n\n\"Look you, 'tis this way. The Normans overrun us, and are in such favor\nthat none may say them nay. This baron coveted the land wherein my love\ndwells; so her brother, who was lord of it, was one day found still and\nstark--killed whilst hunting, folks say. Thus the maid became\nheir-at-law, and the baron wooed her, thrusting me aside.\"\n\n\"Nay, but surely----\" began Robin.\n\n\"Hear me out, gossip,\" Allan said. \"You think I am light overborne, no\ndoubt; but never should this Norman dog have triumphed had it been man\nto man. But who can deal with a snake in th' grass? The wretch has\npoisoned my Fennel against me, and 'tis she who has cast me into\ndespair, while she is to be wedded with mine enemy.\"\n\n\"Does she love you, Allan?\"\n\n\"Once she loved me right well. Here is the little ring which she gave me\nwhen we were betrothed.\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said Robin, \"this wedding shall not be. Can you keep your own\ncounsel? Follow me then; and on your love for Fennel, see nothing of the\nway in which I lead you. Hasten.\"\n\nHe brought the minstrel into Barnesdale woods and to their most secret\nhaunt. Then he summoned the greenwood men and told them first of the\nSheriff's plans and then gave out the grievous story of Allan-a Dale.\n\n\"Where is this marriage to be held?\" asked Little John.\n\n\"In Plympton church,\" sighed the minstrel.\n\n\"Then to Plympton we will go, by my beard!\" cried the giant, \"and\nMonceux may meanwhile scour Barnesdale for us in vain! Thus virtue is\nplainly its own reward.\"\n\n\"Well planned, indeed, Little John. Fill quivers, friends, and let us\ngo. This shall be a strange marriage-day for your baron, Allan--if the\nlady be not stubborn. You must move her, if she be cross with you. We\nwill do all other duties.\"\n\nThey travelled through one of their many secret ways towards Plympton.\nThe sun shone high in the heavens ere they had come within sight of the\nsmall square church.\n\nWithout the building they espied a guard of ten archers liveried in\nscarlet and gold. Robin bade the rest to approach under cover of the\nhedgerows. He then borrowed Allan's cloak and harp, and stepped out\nboldly towards the church.\n\nA few villagers were gathered about the archers; and Robin mingled with\nthese, asking many quaint questions, and giving odd answers to any who\nasked in turn of him. Hearing the laughter and chattering, the Bishop\nwho was to perform the marriage came to the church door all in his fine\nrobes and looked severely forth.\n\n\"What is the meaning of this unseemliness?\" asked he, in well-known\ntones.\n\nRobin saw that here was my lord of Hereford again! He answered,\nmodestly: \"I am a harper, good my lord. Shall I not make a song to fit\nthis happy day?\"\n\n\"Welcome, minstrel, if such you are,\" said the Bishop. \"Music pleases me\nright well, and you shall sing to us.\"\n\n\"I must not tune my harp nor pluck the strings in melody until the bride\nand bridegroom have come,\" Robin answered, wisely; \"such a thing would\nbring ill-fortune on us, and on them.\"\n\n\"You will not have long to wait,\" cried the Bishop, \"for here they come.\nStand on one side, worthy people.\"\n\nHe busied himself in welcome of the bridegroom--a grave old man, dressed\nup very fine. The bride was clothed in white samite, and her hair shone\nlike the sun. Her pretty eyes were dark with weeping; but she walked\nwith a proud air, as women will who feel that they are martyring\nthemselves for their love's sake. She had but two maids with her,\nroguish girls both. One held up her mistress's gown from the ground; the\nother carried flowers in plenty.\n\n\"Now by all the songs I have ever sung, surely never have marriage bells\nrung for so strange a pair!\" cried Robin, boldly. He had stopped them as\nthey were passing into the church. \"Lady,\" he asked, \"do you love this\nman? For if you do not then you are on your way to commit sacrilege.\"\n\n\"Stand aside, fool,\" cried the bridegroom, wrathfully.\n\n\"Do you love this man?\" persisted Robin. \"Speak now or never. I am a\nminstrel, and I know maids' hearts. Many songs have I made in their\nhonor, and never have I found worse things in them than pride or\nvanity.\"\n\n\"I give my hand to him, minstrel, and that is enough,\" the girl answered\nat last. She made a movement towards the aisle.\n\n\"And Allan?\" whispered Robin, looking straight into her eyes.\n\nAt this she gave a little gasp of fear and love, then glanced\nirresolutely towards the shrivelled baron. \"I will _not_ marry you!\" she\ncried, suddenly.\n\nRobin laughed and, dropping the harp, clapped his horn to his lips. Even\nas the archers sprang upon him, the greenwood men appeared.\n\n\"Mercy me!\" called out the Bishop, seeking to escape, \"here are those\nrascal fellows who did maltreat me so in Sherwood.\"\n\nThe archers were prisoners everyone, and the baron too, ere my lord of\nHereford had done exclaiming. Stuteley and Much pushed Allan-a-Dale\nforward. \"This is the man, good my lord, to whom you shall marry the\nmaid,\" cried Robin, flourishing his bow, \"if she is willing.\"\n\n\"Will you marry _me_, dear heart?\" pleaded Allan-a-Dale. \"I am your true\nlove, and the stories they told to you were all false.\"\n\n\"Own to it, baron!\" roared Little John, shaking up the unfortunate old\nman. \"Tell her that you did lie in your straggling beard when you said\nthat Allan was untrue.\"\n\n\"Ay, ay, I spoke falsely; ay, I own to it. Have done with me, villain.\"\n\n\"Spare him, Little John, for the nonce. Now, my lord, marry them for us,\nfor I am ready to sing you my song.\"\n\n\"They must be called in church three times by their names; such is the\nlaw,\" the Bishop protested.\n\nRobin impatiently plucked the Bishop's loose gown from off his back and\nthrew it over Little John's shoulders. The big fellow thrust himself\nfirmly into it and stood with arms akimbo. \"By the faith o' my body,\"\ncried Robin, \"this cloth makes you a man!\"\n\nLittle John went to the church door, and all began to laugh consumedly\nat him. Even the maid Fennel forgot her vexations. Seeing that she\nsmiled, Allan opened his arms to her, and she found her way into them.\n\nLittle John called their names seven times, in case three should not be\nenough. Then Robin turned to the Bishop and swore that he should marry\nthese two forthwith. The gown was given back to him, and my lord of\nHereford commenced the service. He thought it more polite to obey,\nremembering his last experience with this madcap outlaw.\n\n\"Who gives this maid in marriage?\" asked the Bishop, in due season.\n\n\"I do,\" said Robin, \"I give her heartily to my good friend,\nAllan-a-Dale, and he who takes her from him shall buy her dearly.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\n\nThey betook themselves to Barnesdale after the wedding, leaving my lord\nof Hereford gownless and fuming in the organ-loft of the little church\nat Plympton. His guard was variously disposed about the sacred edifice:\ntwo of the bowmen being locked up in the tiny crypt; three in the\nbelfry, \"to ring us a wedding peal,\" as Robin said, and the others in\nthe vestry or under the choir seats in the chancel. The old baron had\nbeen forced to climb a high tree, and had been left in the branches of\nit feebly railing at them.\n\nThen they all came back into Barnesdale, there to make a proper\nwedding-feast, after which Allan carried off his bride and her maids to\nhis own home in the north, promising stoutly to return to them in due\nseason.\n\nThe days came and went, and Monceux began to hope fondly that the\noutlaws had gone out of Sherwood. On the third morning after Allan's\nmarriage the Bishop of Hereford came bursting into Nottingham with the\nold baron and the humiliated guard. The Sheriff's hopes were shattered\nunder the furious indignation of the baron and my lord of Hereford.\n\nIt appeared that they had been released from their various positions of\nconfinement during the evening of the marriage-day, and had forthwith\nhurried to the baron's castle. Thence they had set out for Allan's home\nin the east of the county, near to Southwell, a pretty place.\n\nArrived there, they had demanded reparation and the maid Fennel, and in\norder to be able to declare the marriage false, the Bishop had sent in a\npetition to the Pope whereto Mistress Fennel was led to place her hand\nin writing. Allan's answer was to tear the petition into little pieces\nand fling it at the feet of the messenger who had brought it.\n\nWhereupon the Bishop had withdrawn and the baron had commenced an attack\nupon the place. After an hour or so of vain storming, Allan, at the head\nof a small band of retainers, had issued forth and mightily discomfited\nthe baron and his men, beating them heartily out of the neighborhood of\nSouthwell.\n\nThese matters, instigated and brought about by one Master Robin o' th'\nHood, cried aloud for summary vengeance.\n\nThe Sheriff doubled and trebled the reward offered for his head,\nmentioning him above all others who were known to aid and abet him.\nLittle John ranked next in point of infamous merit in the Sheriff's\nreckoning, for Monceux remembered his golden plate.\n\nThe people of Nottingham, hearing continually of this pother, fell\na-chattering between themselves, and ere a week was out Monceux's reward\nof a hundred golden pieces for the head of Robin Hood was the one theme\nof conversation in the city.\n\nNo one identified him with Robin of Locksley--that brave misguided youth\nbeing so entirely dead to their minds--and he was variously named as\nHood, Robin Hood, Captain Hood, and Master Robin.\n\nA travelling tinker came at length upon the talk of the town. He had\nbeen sitting on the bench without the \"Sign of the Sixteen Does,\"\ndozing and drinking, and at last seeking to do both at once.\n\nMine host stood near by, discussing the eternal Robin.\n\n\"Folk do say that Master Monceux has sent into Lincoln for more\nmen-at-arms and horses, and that when he has these to hand he will soon\nscourge Captain Hood from our forest.\"\n\n\"Of whom speak you?\" asked the tinker, suddenly waking up.\n\n\"Of this Robin of the Greenwood,\" said the innkeeper, \"but you will\nnever earn the Sheriff's hundred pieces!\"\n\nThen the tinker arose upon his dignity, and eyed the innkeeper\nreproachfully.\n\n\"And why will I not earn the hundred pieces, gossip?\" said he, with a\ndeadly calm in his manner.\n\n\"Where our Sheriff has failed, and a Bishop also, it is not likely that\na mere tinker will succeed,\" mine host answered. \"Pay me for your ale,\ngossip, and go on your way.\"\n\nThe tinker approached and laid a heavy hand upon the innkeeper's fat\nshoulder. \"Friend,\" he said, impressively, \"I am one not noted either\nfor dullness or lack of courage. I do perpend that to earn these pieces\nof which you speak one must perform some worthy business. Tell it to me,\nand you and Nottingham shall see then what Middle the Tinker thinks on\nit.\"\n\nAt this a great clacking began, so that Master Middle only came to the\ngist of it in an hour. He valiantly proclaimed his intention, so soon as\nhe _did_ understand, of taking Robin Hood single-handed. \"Why send into\nLincoln and the shires when Middle the Tinker will do this business for\nyou, gossips? I will go into your Sherwood this very day. Give me the\nwarrant, and I'll read it to Robin to purpose, I promise you!\"\n\nThey pushed him, laughing and jesting between themselves, towards\nNottingham Castle, and there thrust him into the hall.\n\n\"Here is a champion come to take your pieces, Master Monceux,\" someone\ncalled out. \"Here is Middle, the pot-valiant,\" cried another.\n\nMaster Middle asked for the warrant, and obtained it. Then he sallied\nforth, accompanied by the customers from the \"Sign of the Sixteen Does\"\nas far as the gates of the city. There he made them a long speech and\nleft them.\n\nThey watched him making determinedly along the white road towards\nBarnesdale; then returned to their tankards and their talk.\n\nMaster Middle reached Gamewell without mishap; and the brisk air having\nrevived him much, he gradually came into a placid frame of mind.\n\nIn this happy condition he encountered presently a comely youth, with a\nlittle beard and a friendly tongue.\n\n\"Give you good-den, gossip,\" cried the youth. \"I hear there is sad news\nabroad. I fear all is not well with the world.\"\n\n\"Since I live in Banbury, good friend,\" the tinker replied, \"I cannot\nspeak for the world. But Banbury is always willing to listen, and\nlearn.\"\n\n\"Harkee, then--this is the news I have heard: that in Nottingham town\nthey have put two tinkers in the stocks for drinking too much ale and\nbeer!\"\n\n\"If that is all,\" said Middle, contemptuously, \"your news is not worth a\ngroat; while as for drinking good ale, 'tis not you who would willingly\nlose your part of it.\"\n\n\"By my faith, gossip, you are right!\" laughed the youth. \"But now give\nme your news, since mine is worth so little. You who go from town to\ntown, must come by many strange items.\"\n\n\"All that I have heard,\" the tinker said, thinking of the Sheriff's\npieces, \"is very good. I am in search of an outlaw whom men call Robin\nHood. In my wallet I have a warrant to take him wherever I can; and if\nyou can tell me where he is I will make a man of you, friend.\"\n\n\"Let me see the warrant,\" said Robin, for 'twas he, \"and if I find it to\nbe right I will take you to him this very day.\"\n\n\"That I will not do,\" cried Middle, readily, \"I will trust no man with\nmy warrant; and if you will not help me, gossip, why, pass on and good\nriddance to you.\"\n\nHe began to stride along the road again, and until Robin had called him\nthrice would not turn about. \"If you will come with me to a certain inn\non Watling Street, good friend,\" called Robin, encouragingly, \"I'll e'en\nshow you Robin o' th' Hood!\"\n\nAt this, Middle turned his head, and then came back to Robin. \"Lead the\nway, gossip,\" said he, at length. \"I'll walk behind you. I have my\nstick.\"\n\nRobin made no reply, but started at a good pace. He led the tinker\nthrough the forest by many devious ways until they had arrived at a\nlittle inn on Watling Street. It was styled the \"Falcon,\" and mine host\ncame willingly to serve these guests.\n\nThe tinker asked for ale, Robin for wine. They sat at talk for near an\nhour, Robin explaining much about this Robin o' th' Hood. The tinker\ndrank his ale and listened; then pronounced his plan for taking the\noutlaw. This made a lengthy history, and was so dry withal that Master\nMiddle must needs fill and empty his tankard many times.\n\nIn the end he fell asleep. Robin deftly opened his pouch then, took out\nthe warrant, read it, and put it into his own wallet. He called mine\nhost, and, telling him that the tinker would pay the reckoning so soon\nas he awoke, Robin left the \"Falcon\" and Master Middle together.\n\nHaving leisure for the whimsey, Robin bethought him to stay awhile and\nsee what Middle might do, for in a way he had taken Robin's fancy.\n\nSo Robin hid and waited events.\n\nPresently the tinker awoke and called for the landlord. \"Gossip,\" said\nhe to mine host, \"I have a grave charge to lay upon you. In this house,\nwhilst I did rest in the thought that you were an honest man and one\nloving the King, my pouch has been opened and many matters of importance\ntaken from it. I had in it, item, a warrant, granted under the hand and\nseal of my lord the Sheriff of Nottingham, authorizing the arrest of a\nnotorious rascal, one Robin Hood of Barnesdale. Item, a crust of bread.\nItem, six single keys, useful withal. Item, twelve silver pennies, the\nwhich I have earned this week in fair labor----\"\n\n\"I wonder to hear you speak so of Robin Hood, friend,\" answered the\nlandlord. \"Was he not with you just now? And did he not clink glasses\nwith you in all amity?\"\n\n\"Was Robin o' th' Hood _that_ little bag of bones?\" cried Middle, in\ngreat vexation. \"God-a-mercy, but now I see it all. He has taken my\nwarrant and my pennies! Let me go after him, gossip; be sure that I will\nbring him back right soon.\"\n\n\"There is first the reckoning to be paid, good friend,\" said the\nlandlord.\n\n\"Why, I would pay you with all pleasure, had I the means,\" the tinker\nreplied. \"At this moment I have but my stick and my bag of tools. I will\nleave them with you as hostages.\"\n\n\"Give me your leathern coat as well,\" said mine host, sharply; \"the\nhammer and tools are as naught to me.\"\n\n\"It would seem that I am fallen from one thief to another,\" snapped\nMiddle. \"If you will walk with me to the green I'll give you such a\ncrack as shall drive some honesty into your thick skull.\"\n\n\"You are wasting your breath and my leisure,\" the other retorted,\ncontemptuously. \"Get you gone after your quarry.\"\n\nMiddle thought this to be good advice, and he strode forth from the\n\"Falcon\" in a black mood.\n\nEre he had gone half a mile upon the road he perceived Robin demurely\nwalking under the trees a little in front of him. \"Ho there! you\nvillain!\" shouted Middle. \"Stay your steps. I am most desperately in\nneed of you this day!\"\n\nRobin turned about with a surprised face. \"Well met again, tinker,\"\ncried he. \"Have you found Robin Hood?\"\n\n\"Marry, that have I!\" roared Middle, plunging at him.\n\nRobin had his sword at his side and tried to draw it; but the tinker\nwas too speedy for him. Middle laid on his blows with so much vigor that\nfor a while he had Robin at his mercy.\n\nThe greenwood rang with the noise of the fight, for now Robin had\nplucked out his sword. 'Twas steel against oak; brute force matched\nagainst skill. Indignation gave Middle the advantage, and he fought with\nsuch fury that Robin's sides began to ache.\n\n\"Hold your hand, tinker,\" called Robin, at last. \"I cry a boon of you.\"\n\n\"I would rather hang you upon this tree ere granting it to you,\" said\nMiddle, commencing afresh.\n\nBut Robin had had time to blow his horn in urgent summons of Stuteley\nand Little John.\n\nIn a brief space they appeared, with most of the greenwood men at their\nheels, and Master Middle was seized and disarmed rudely enough.\n\n\"This rascal tinker had made my bones quite sore,\" said Robin, ruefully.\n\n\"Is that your trouble?\" said Little John. \"Let me discover now if I may\nnot do the like for him.\"\n\n\"Not so, Little John,\" Robin said then. \"This was my own quarrel, and I\ndeserved all that this rogue has bestowed on me. He had a warrant for my\narrest, which I have stolen from him.\"\n\n\"With twelve silver pennies, a crust of bread, and six little keys,\"\nremarked Middle, with emphasis.\n\n\"Here are the keys and the crust, gossip,\" answered Robin, smilingly.\n\"And here the pennies, turned by me into gold. Here also, if you will,\nis my hand.\"\n\n\"I take it heartily, with the pence!\" cried Middle, seizing the slim,\nfrank hand of the outlaw. \"By my leathern coat, by my pots and pans, I\nswear I like you, friend Hood, and will serve you and your men honestly!\nDo you want a tinker? Nay; but I'll swear you do--who else can mend and\ngrind your swords and patch your pannikins? Will you take me, little\nman, who can fight so well, and who knows how to play a bold game?\"\n\n\"Marry, I will take you, tinker--if the rest be willing, and you will\nswear the oath. But it rests not with me, for this is a band of freemen,\nwithout a leader.\"\n\n\"Not so, Robin,\" cried Little John, glancing up from close perusal of\nthe Sheriff's warrant. \"We have a leader, and you are the man! Master\nMonceux of Nottingham has ordained it. Herein you are described as Robin\no' th' Hood, leader and captain of that band of evil robbers infesting\nBarnesdale and our forest of Sherwood! The Bishop of Hereford has put\nhis blessing on the Sheriff's choice by excommunicating you. Shall we\nnot accept Monceux's word for it, comrades all?\" he added turning round.\n\"He has named a leader for us whom we can trust.\"\n\nIt was carried with acclamation, and Robin found himself leader of the\ngreenwood men willy-nilly, for good and all. Warrenton was hugely\ndelighted; and the tinker seemed pleased that he had helped in bringing\nabout so excellent an arrangement. Master Middle swore the oath of\nallegiance in good set terms, and they all repaired to Barnesdale to\ncall a full council and ratify their choice of captain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\n\nWithin the next few days came Allan-a-Dale into Barnesdale with his lady\nand her two maids. Allan had the story to tell of the Bishop's encounter\nwith him and the baron's onslaught upon his house in Southwell. Allan\nexplained that, although he had triumphed over his enemies for the\npresent, tidings had been brought to him that the Bishop was plotting\nfresh mischief against them at Southwell, and had already excommunicated\nboth Allan-a-Dale and his pretty wife.\n\n\"In that case you must take up your life with us,\" said Robin. \"The\ngreenwood is the abode of liberty and justice; 'tis _our_ commonwealth,\nin truth, and a happy enough place to live in even in winter-time. We\nwill find you a cave.\"\n\n\"There's Fennel,\" explained Allan, dubiously; \"I do not think that she\nwill like to live in a cave.\"\n\nThis presented a difficulty. So Allan went over to where Fennel stood\nwaiting with her maids, and explained things to her. \"So long as I am\nwith you, dear heart,\" answered Fennel, laughing, \"I do not care if I\nlive under a tree or in a house. Do that which you think best for us.\"\n\nTherefore, they came into the greenwood, and were found a cave opening\nfrom one of the larger passages--a dry and excellent home in these long\nsummer months.\n\nIn the meantime little Midge had fallen sick, and Much the Miller wept\nloudly over him as he lay, pale and languid, on a rude couch of dry\nleaves. All the company sorrowed over this small Lincoln fellow, for he\nhad been a merry companion, and Robin himself sought to bring him back\nto health with such simple remedies as he knew.\n\n\"Captain,\" said Much, with a woebegone countenance, \"'tis all useless,\nour doctoring--I am about to lose the best friend that ever I have\nknown. Can you get a priest to pray beside Midge's bed?\"\n\n\"I did know of a right worthy priest,\" Robin answered, sorrowfully, \"but\nhe has gone from these parts. He would have been just the one to cheer\nus all.\"\n\n\"I have heard tell of a jovial fellow who has but lately come to our\nparish,\" said Middle the Tinker. \"You must know, comrades, that I was\nborn near to Fountain's Abbey, in York, and that once a year at least I\nvisit my old mother there. Now, I promise you, that never such a\nfrolicsome priest did you know as this one who has come to our priory.\nHe can bend a bow with any man, and sing you a good song.\"\n\n\"I would dearly love such a man to minister to me,\" pleaded poor Midge.\n\"I believe on my soul that he could cast out the fever from my bones.\nBring him to me, Much, as you love me.\"\n\nThis settled matters forthwith. \"I will go to the world's end for you,\nif there be need,\" sobbed the honest miller. \"Give me leave, captain, to\ngo in search of this worthy friar.\"\n\n\"I will go with you, Much, and Little John shall come also,\" began\nRobin; but now a fresh difficulty arose. All of them wished to go\nwherever Robin went; he was their captain, they said, and so must be\nprotected.\n\nIn the end it was arranged that Stuteley should remain with two score of\nmen in Barnesdale, to guard their caves and keep the Sheriff at bay if\noccasion arose. (In truth, however, Master Monceux had full hands just\nnow with affairs of state, although the greenwood men did not know of\nthis. The King was grievously ill; and Monceux had gone to London, with\nthe Bishop of Hereford and many of the neighboring barons, under Royal\ncommand.)\n\nRobin asked Mistress Fennel to give the sick man such nursing as she\nwould to Allan himself; and she sweetly promised that Midge should\nsuffer in no way by his captain's absence. Then Robin, with the rest of\nthe band--fifteen in all--set off for York.\n\nIt so happened that Master Simeon Carfax was departing from the old town\nat nigh the same moment, with _his_ face set nodding homewards.\n\nWarrenton, Little John, Much the Miller, and Master Middle were of\nRobin's company. Also there was John Berry, the forester, and that one\ncalled Hal, who had been so much at the right hand of poor Will o' th'\nGreen in other days.\n\nThis little company travelled speedily, and within three days they had\nbrought themselves over the borders into the county of York.\n\nAnother two days brought them within a league of Fountain's Abbey or\nDale, as some folk call it.\n\nAs they neared the Abbey Robin walked on in front of the rest and held\nhis bow free in his hand.\n\nPresently he came to a stream, and heard sounds of a jovial song\nfloating towards him. He hid under a bush and watched alertly. At\nlength, approaching the far bank, Robin espied a knight, clad in chain\narmor and very merry.\n\nHe sang, in a lusty voice, a hearty woodland song. \"Now by my bones!\"\nthought Robin, puzzled, \"but I have heard this song before.\"\n\nHe peeped forth again, and saw that the knight filled up the spaces of\nhis song with bites from a great pasty which he held in his hand. His\nface was turned from Robin.\n\nRobin called out suddenly upon him, fitting an arrow to his bow as he\ndid so. \"I pray you, Sir Knight, to carry me across this stream,\" said\nRobin, covering the stranger with his weapon.\n\n\"Put down your bow, forester,\" shouted the knight, \"and I will safely\ncarry you across the brook. 'Tis our duty in life to help each other,\nand I do see that you are a man worthy of some attention.\"\n\nHis voice troubled Robin as his song had done; but whilst he was\nsearching his memory to fit a name to this courteous knight the latter\nhad waded across to him. \"Jump upon my back, forester, and I'll bring\nyou to shore.\" He spoke through the bars of his closed visor.\n\nRobin had cast down his bow; and now, without thinking, jumped upon the\nknight's shoulders. The knight carried him safely over the brook.\n\n\"Now, gossip, you shall carry me over this stream,\" said the knight,\nserenely; \"one good turn deserves another, as you know.\"\n\n\"Nay, but I shall wet my feet,\" Robin commenced.\n\n\"No more than I have wetted mine,\" retorted the other. \"Besides, yonder\nis your bow, and small use are your arrows without it.\"\n\nRobin perceived then that he had been too hasty. He considered for a\nmoment. \"Leave your sword behind as I do my bow, Sir Knight,\" he said,\npresently, \"and I will carry you across the river.\"\n\nThe knight laughed and agreed, and Robin took him upon his back. It was\nall that Robin could do to bring himself and his load to the bank; but\nat last he managed it. He set the knight down, then seized his bow.\n\"Now, friend, yonder is your sword. I'll e'en crave that you shall carry\nme on your shoulders once more!\"\n\nThe knight eyed Robin solemnly. \"'Tis written in the Scriptures,\nforester, that we should not be weary in well-doing,\" he observed, \"so\nfor this reason I will do your behest. Get upon my back once more.\"\n\nThis time Robin carried his bow and smiled within himself. He found,\nhowever, that the knight was holding him very lightly. Just as he had\nopened his mouth in expostulation, the knight suddenly released his hold\nof Robin's legs, and shook him into the running water. Then, laughing\nheartily, he regained the other bank and his broadsword.\n\nRobin, with wet skin and spoiled bow, struggled back to the bank\nwherefrom he had first started out. He began to revile the knight in set\nterms, and challenged him to fight.\n\n\"'Tis only fair, forester, that we should go half-way to each other,\"\nanswered the knight, unconcernedly, \"if so be we are able to fight. I\nwill come to the middle of the stream, and if I do not find you there, I\nshall know you to be afraid.\"\n\nRobin waded out to him with drawn sword; and there in the center of the\nstream they fought together valiantly for near a quarter of an hour. \"I\ncrave a boon of you, Sir Knight,\" cried Robin, then feeling himself in\ndanger of being drowned.\n\n\"'Tis yours, forester,\" spluttered the knight, still holding fast to his\nmanner of courtesy.\n\nForthwith Robin found his horn, and blew it somehow, all wet as it was.\n\n\"I too claim a boon,\" cried the knight.\n\n\"'Tis yours,\" answered Robin, hearing joyfully the approach of his men.\n\nThe knight produced a whistle and caused a shrill note to issue forth\nfrom it. Even as Warrenton and the rest came leaping to Robin's rescue\non one hand, twenty and five great dogs sprang out of the bushes on the\nopposite bank.\n\nWarrenton and his fellows immediately sped a volley of arrows at the\nyelping beasts; but, jumping and leaping they caught the arrows in their\nmouths, even as they flew!\n\n\"I never have seen the like of this in my days!\" cried Little John,\namazed. \"'Tis rank sorcery and witchcraft.\"\n\n\"Take off your dogs, friar,\" cried Middle, who was the least surprised\nof them all, \"else ill will befall both them and you.\"\n\n\"He calls you friar,\" said Robin, astounded; \"are you not a knight, in\nsooth?\"\n\n\"I am but a poor anchorite, a curtal friar,\" replied the other, pushing\nout for his side of the river. \"By name Friar Tuck of Fountain's Dale.\nAre these your men, forester?\"\n\n\"This is Robin Hood, come in all amity and peace from Nottingham to\nbring you to a sick-bedside,\" the tinker told him. \"'Tis a sorry welcome\nthat you accord to him!\"\n\n\"I am Robin Fitzooth,\" said Robin, having in his turn regained the\nriver-bank. \"And surely your name is _not_ Tuck, as you say.\"\n\nThe knight then lifted his visor, and Robin gave a cry of joy. It was\nthe merry face of the Clerk of Copmanhurst that beamed upon him from\nunder the mailed cap. \"God save you, dear friend, why did you not say\n'twas you?\"\n\n\"To tell truth, Robin,\" answered the clerk, comically, \"you scarce gave\nme pause to eat my pie, let alone announce myself. Do I see Master Hal,\nand my good friend Warrenton? Wait until I have chained my dogs, and I\nwill give you all such welcome as this place does know.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThey stayed with the worthy friar of Fountain's Dale long enough for\nthem to be all refreshed and rested; then started upon the return\njourney into Barnesdale with good speed. Friar Tuck--for so we must know\nhim now--said he would go with them gladly, and bring his dogs also, for\na year had been sufficient for his liking of Fountain's Abbey. The place\nwas too quiet and deadly; and although he had succeeded to these dumb\nand faithful friends, he had employed much time in the training of them.\n\nRobin bethought him of poor Midge waiting patiently their return, and so\nallowed no pause.\n\nThey came back to Barnesdale within three days, having encountered and\nlevied toll upon some rich merchants--penitents bound with presents for\nthe Priory of York.\n\nMidge was found to be vastly recovered from his sickness, thanks to the\nnursing of Mistress Fennel and her maids. He welcomed the friar in his\nown droll way, begging to be forgiven by Master Tuck for not giving him\nreason to perform prayers for an outlaw's soul, and offering to be\nshrived, notwithstanding, if the priest felt aggrieved.\n\nLittle John, remembering his own words of many days afore, said: \"'Tis a\npity indeed that the good friar should have made this grievous long\njourney--all for naught! By my faith, but here is a notion for the use\nof him and for yourself, Robin. Your name is not your own until Mother\nChurch has put it properly upon you. So therefore let us have a\nchristening, since by good fortune we may not have a burying.\"\n\n\"I am the man to fix your new name upon you right bravely,\" cried Tuck,\nwhistling to his dogs. \"Come, we will have such a christening as these\nwoods have ne'er dreamed of. Get me a basin of water and a book.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Robin, laughing, \"I think that you baptized me heartily\nenough in the river by Fountain's Dale! 'Twill be fitting, to my mind,\nif now we have the feast which follows upon all christenings. Bring out\nof our best, comrades, and let good cheer and the right wine fill our\nbodies. Afterward we can hold carnival, and the friar shall show how he\ncan use the bow.\"\n\n\"Ay, marry, friend,\" laughed the fat clerk, \"and I have learned other\nthings in this year beside that. You are wondering to see me so changed,\ndoubtless, but I must tell you that the life at Fountain's Dale has not\nbeen an easy one. I have had to hold mine own against the earls and\nsquires of the borders, who have sought to rob me often enough,\nthinking that every son of Mother Church must needs be wealthy. So I\nhave learned to use the broadsword and quarter-staff as well as the\nbow.\"\n\n\"Father,\" exclaimed Hal, \"you knew how to play all these very prettily\nwhen you were Clerk of Copmanhurst, though then you chose to have folks\nbelieve that naught but holiness was in you.\"\n\n\"A man should not boast of all there is in him,\" answered the friar.\n\"But now, since I am found out, you know me for what I am.\"\n\n\"I am well content with you, anyway,\" Robin told him.\n\nThe worthy friar would not stay altogether with them in Barnesdale. He\nleft his dogs there--save three--and returned to Copmanhurst, when the\nlittle hermitage knew him again as master. Each day he would come into\nBarnesdale, howbeit, to give news to Robin and hear the items that the\ngreenwood men had for him. 'Twas from Friar Tuck that the outlaws\nlearned much as to travellers through Sherwood ere inquiring of them\nwhether they were rich, whether worthy, or whether they were poor and\ndeserving of help rather than taxing.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\n\nMaster Carfax had by this time arrived in Nottingham, all eager to marry\nhis cold bride. He found, however, that this was a happiness not yet to\nbe, for matters were in a grievous state in the Sheriff's household.\n\nMy lord of Hereford was very wrath with them all, and had sent Monceux\nback to his native city with much to think upon. The Bishop had taken\nthe opportunity of laying formal complaint at Court before the King; and\nhis Majesty had told Master Monceux that when he went back to Nottingham\nit must be to keep the Royal forest free of all evil-doers. Otherwise a\nnew Sheriff would be found for Nottingham, and that right soon.\n\nHenry, the King, was near to his own end, and had become very irritable\nin consequence of his illness. His sons tried his scanty patience sorely\nwith their waywardness and their ingratitude. So Monceux had none too\npleasant a reception at Court, and returned therefrom with a heavy\nheart.\n\nSimeon Carfax was therefore despatched into Sherwood to find the tinker,\nso that Middle might be whipped and put into the stocks for having\nfailed; also Carfax was to secure Robin and the ringleaders at all\nhazard. To this end Master Simeon was given command of the Sheriff's own\nmen-at-arms, and a great body of citizens from the town wards, each man\nhaving the promise of a large reward and freedom thenceforth from all\ntaxes.\n\nThe news soon came to Robin, and he and his men retired at once into the\ninnermost parts of Barnesdale, and secured their caves by covering the\nmouths of them with barricades artfully concealed behind green boughs\nand the like.\n\nSo Carfax and his fellows searched without avail for near three weeks,\nonly occasionally having evidence of the greenwood men by finding the\nfeet and antlers of the King's deer lying here and there in the forest.\nThe Sheriff's men laid many traps for Robin, but all in vain.\n\nStuteley, being of venturesome mind, must needs attempt all manner of\ntricks upon this motley company of soldiers. He would dig a pit with\nLittle John and Much, and hide it up with branches and earth, so that\nMaster Carfax might stray into it and haply break his neck.\n\nAt last Carfax bethought him of a good plot. He had nigh fallen into one\nof Will Stuteley's pits, but suddenly stayed his men from demolishing\nit. He planned instead to pretend to be trapped in the pit that very\nnight; and, having hidden his fellows all round about, he walked out\nboldly at dusk with but three of them, and fell a-talking loudly of his\nschemes for capturing Robin Hood.\n\nHe walked carelessly up to the hidden pit and with great outcry fell\ninto it, the others with him running off then as if in deadly alarm.\nThen Master Carfax began a loud lament, and made such a noise that\nStuteley must hear it.\n\nYoung Will came bounding joyfully to the pit's edge, and, spying Carfax\ntherein, fell into an ecstasy of delight. He railed at Simeon very\npleasantly, and made merry at the other's supposed mishap. But presently\nCarfax blew his horn, and shortly Stuteley found the position reversed.\nAfter a desperate struggle he was overpowered and carried off, although\nnot without being seen by another of Robin's men. This man brought Robin\nthe bad news within an hour of Will Stuteley's capture.\n\nThe greenwood men flung prudence to the winds and sallied forth. They\npursued and came up with the rear-guard of the enemy, and a terrible\nbattle was fought. Thirteen of Robin's brave fellows were wounded, five\nof them so grievously as to die soon afterward of their wounds, and as\nmany of the Nottingham soldiery also were slain.\n\nCarfax returned to Nottingham, however--this time in some triumph. His\nmen had beaten back the outlaws, and he had secured the lieutenant of\nthe band, a \"desperate villain, next to Robin Hood himself in deeds of\nviolence and disorder.\"\n\nSo all agreed; and by dint and hard swearing soon wove a noose to fit\nWill Stuteley's thin neck. Monceux, in grave satisfaction, ordered that\ntheir prisoner should be hanged and quartered, within a week, in the\nstreets of Nottingham, as a warning and example to all wrong-doers.\n\nThe Sheriff gave a feast to all the soldiery and doubled the reward upon\nRobin's head. Until _he_ was caught Monceux could but remain uneasy, for\nHenry of England was a man of his word.\n\nRobin was sorely grieved at the loss of Stuteley, and swore that he\nwould save his little squire or die. He went, therefore, to Gamewell to\ndiscover from Marian precisely how they had arranged for the hanging of\nStuteley, for she was able to go into Nottingham in her page's dress.\n\nMarian had learned it all. \"First, he will be tortured to tell the\nsecret of your hiding-place, dear heart,\" she told Robin, in bated\nbreath. \"Then he will suffer the full penalty, and will be hanged from a\ngallows with three other poor wretches. Last of all he is to be\nquartered, and his body flung to the people.\"\n\nShe burst into weeping, and sobbed so grievously that Robin was hard put\nto it to keep back his own tears. \"Did you learn who these others might\nbe?\" he asked her, to change her thoughts and to satisfy himself that no\nother friend was with little Will.\n\n\"They are the three sons of a poor widow, who lives in the forest. They\nfound the body of one of the deer, and, being very hungry, were carrying\nit from the forest to their little home. Someone, passing by, accused\nthem of having first killed it, and this quarrel came to the Sheriff's\nears. Master Carfax then affected to recognize them as being three\ngreenwood men; and they have been tried summarily and found guilty, and\nwill be hanged together with Will.\"\n\n\"I swear that this shall not be,\" cried Robin, in heat, \"since no doubt\nI am to blame for leaving the slain deer in their way.\"\n\n\"It was, I believe, the very stag that I did kill,\" said Marian, in a\ntroubled voice. \"They have been in prison for near a month; and the\nbeast was found without part of the woods,\" said Marian. \"Shall I not go\nand give myself up in their place? Since I have had this dreadful\nguilty thought in my mind I have known no moment's peace; but,\ncowardlike, I do not dare to be honest with myself.\"\n\n\"Be of good courage, dear maid,\" said Robin. \"We have killed many of the\nKing's deer since the day I first did meet with Master Gilbert of Blois.\nFor we are hungry every day, prithee, and the beasts are many. Also in\nthis season they are very wild and ferocious--'tis like this one was\nkilled in a battle royal between itself and another stag. But to make\nall sure, we will rescue the widow's three sons with my Stuteley from\nthe Sheriff's foul clutches.\"\n\n\"Go not into danger, dear heart, for my sake,\" Marian pleaded, and she\nheld him close to her as though she never would let him depart again.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nRobin went back to his men, and they made their plans. Little John was\ngiven the second place of command, and it was agreed that upon the\nmorning on which Stuteley and the others were to be hanged the greenwood\nmen should risk all by marching into Nottingham to the rescue.\n\nThe dawn of this eventful morning broke bright and sunny. Robin was\nclothed in a gay scarlet dress and his men wore their mantles of\nLincoln-green cloth. They were armed with broadswords, and each carried\na full quiver of new arrows, fashioned for them during the past winter\nby the cunning hands of Warrenton.\n\nThey marched boldly towards Nottingham, leaving Allan-a-Dale with his\nlittle dame and six of the outlaws to keep house for them, as it were.\nWhen they were within a mile of Nottingham gates, Robin called a halt,\nand said: \"I hold it good, comrades, that we stay here in hiding, and\nsend forth someone to hear the news. There comes upon the road a\npalmer--see you him near by the gates? Who will go forth and engage him\nin talk?\"\n\n\"I will,\" said Midge, at once; \"for I am used to deal with holy men.\"\n\nSo Midge went out from them, whilst they all hid themselves and waited.\nWhen he was close to the palmer, Midge said, amiably: \"I pray you, old\npalmer, tell me if you know where and when these robbers are to die?\nDoubtless you have passed the very spot?\"\n\n\"That have I, indeed,\" answered the palmer, sadly, \"and 'tis a sorry\nsight to see. By the Sheriff's castle, out upon the roadway, they have\nbuilt an angled gallows-tree to bear the four of them at once. They are\nto die at noon, after the torturing is done. I could not bear the sight;\nand so have turned my back upon it.\"\n\nThe palmer spoke in a muffled voice; and as his hood had been pulled\nwell over his head, Midge could not see what manner of man he might\nexactly be. He carried his long stick with its little cross at the top;\nand had sandalled feet, like any monk. Midge noticed idly how small his\nfeet were for a man of his size, but gave no second thought to the\nmatter.\n\n\"Who will shrive these poor fellows, then, if you have turned your back\nupon them?\" asked Midge, reproachfully. This seemed to present itself as\na new idea to the palmer.\n\n\"Do you think, friend,\" he enquired, in a troubled way, \"that I should\nundertake the office?\"\n\n\"By Saint Peter and Saint Mary, I do indeed,\" cried Midge, roundly.\n\"Would you leave them to the empty prayers which the Sheriff's chaplain\nwill pour coldly over them? Nay, in sooth, if your heart be turned to\nsympathy, surely you are the man to administer this last consolation to\nthese poor fellows.\"\n\n\"If it might be permitted I would dearly love to shrive them,\" said the\npalmer, still hesitating. \"But I am only a poor palmer.\"\n\n\"Keep close to me,\" Midge told him, valiantly, \"and you shall shrive\nthese good fellows an it become necessary. That I promise you.\"\n\nHe returned to Robin and told him that the execution had been fixed to\ntake place outside Nottingham Castle at noon. \"We must hasten then,\"\nsaid Robin. \"Go you first, Little John; and we will tread close upon\nyour heels.\"\n\nLittle John swam the moat, and sprang upon the warder of the city gates\nsuddenly, whilst he was craning his neck to get a view of the Sheriff's\nprocession of death. The big outlaw seized his victim from behind, and\nclapped his great hand over his mouth. Very soon the warder was prisoner\nin the round tower by the gate; and Little John had slipped himself into\nhis uniform.\n\nLittle John then lowered the bridge quietly, and passed the rest of them\ninto Nottingham. Midge and the palmer came last of all. \"Now spread\nyourselves about into groups of twos and threes,\" said Robin, \"and have\nyour swords ready when you hear my horn. Little John, prithee draw the\nbridge again, so that none may suspect us; but leave the winch loose,\nfor we may have to use it hastily. Go you first, and Heaven speed thee.\"\n\nWill Stuteley at length came out of the castle surrounded by the\nSheriff's guards; and behind him walked dejectedly the widow's three\nsons. Poor Will looked ghastly pale, and marks of the torturings showed\nupon his skin. His face was drawn and lined with anguish.\n\nMonceux was there, dressed out in his best; and was blowing out his fat\ncheeks in vast self-importance. Beside the Sheriff was Master Carfax,\nlean-faced as ever. They were mounted on white horses; and behind them\nwere two score of archers and pikemen.\n\nStuteley, seeing that no help appeared at hand, asked, in a weak voice,\nthat he might have words with the Sheriff.\n\nMonceux went up to him and bade him speak out.\n\nStuteley said, in a sad tone: \"Sheriff, seeing that I must die to-day,\ngrant me this one boon, that I may not be hanged upon a gallows-tree,\nbut rather that I die with my sword in my hand, fighting you and all\nyour men to the last.\"\n\nThe Sheriff laughed coarsely: \"Not so, my man; you shall die instead a\nshameful death, and after you your master, Robin Hood, that false\nbutcher, so soon as I have him fast.\"\n\n\"That you will never do,\" answered Stuteley, with prophecy, in his weak\nvoice. \"But unbind my hands, Sheriff, for your soul's sake, and let me\nmeet my end valiantly.\"\n\n\"To the gallows with him!\" roared Monceux, giving the sign to the\nexecutioner; and Stuteley was hustled into the rude cart which was to\nbear him under the gallows until his neck had been leashed. Then it\nwould be drawn roughly away and the unhappy man would swing out over\nthe tail of it into another world.\n\nTwo fellows had great knives with them ready to cut him down, and\nquarter his body whilst life was in it, as the cruel sentence had\nordained.\n\n\"Let me, at the least, shrive this man's soul ere it be hurled into\neternity,\" said the palmer, stepping forward.\n\nMonceux's face grew black with rage; and yet he scarcely liked to\nrefuse, for fear it should injure him too much in the eyes of the\npeople. \"Perform the duty quickly then, Sir Priest,\" he snarled; and\nthen rode back to Carfax. \"Watch the palmer narrowly,\" he told him, \"and\ndo you secure him afterwards. Methinks he is some ally of these rascal\noutlaws; and, in any case, we shall do no harm in questioning him.\"\n\nThe palmer had hardly begun to string his beads when Little John\ncommenced to elbow a path for himself through the crowd. He roughly\nthrust the soldiers aside as if they had been so many children, and came\nup to the edge of the cart. \"I pray you, Will, take leave of your true\nfriend here before you die,\" cried Little John.\n\nThe palmer had fallen back at his approach; and stood in some hesitancy.\nIn a moment Monceux saw what happened. \"Seize that man!\" he shouted to\nhis pikemen. \"He is that villain who did rob us of our gold plate, who\nnearly slew Roger, our cook. He is of the band--seize him; and he too\nshall hang!\"\n\n\"Not so fast, gossip,\" Little John answered, with an ugly look; \"I must\nneeds borrow my friend of you for a while.\"\n\nHe had cut Stuteley's bands with two quick strokes of his dagger, and\nhaving wrenched a pike from out of one of the soldiers' hands, flung it\nto little Will. \"Now, by my freedom, here's your prayer answered,\ncomrade,\" cried Little John. \"I have found you a weapon--do your best\nwith it!\"\n\nThe soldiers had recovered from their temporary surprise and flung\nthemselves upon the prisoner and his would-be rescuer. Robin, from the\nback of the Sheriff's bowmen, sounded his horn, and instantly all became\nconfusion and riot. In the m\u00eal\u00e9e the palmer sought to slip away\nunnoticed, but was detected by the keen eyes of Carfax. Master Simeon\nrode round with six of his fellows and caused them to seize the holy\nman, and bind him fast with leathern thongs.\n\nBut this small success was more than outweighed by the reverse suffered\nby Monceux and his men. Taken in assault at the rear, they had no chance\nwith the greenwood men. Robin himself had released the widow's three\nsons, and they had not been slow in arming themselves. Some of those in\nthe crowd, having secret sympathy with the outlaws and hating the\nSheriff heartily for many small injustices, also flung themselves into\nthe fray.\n\nThe greenwood men cleared the green square before the Sheriff's home by\nrepeated rushes and desperate chargings. Broken heads and cut knees\nthere were in plenty; and lucky the man who escaped with so little as\nthese. Carfax won a place of safety for Master Monceux, and fell back\nslowly, with him the unwilling palmer, until shelter of the castle gates\nhad been attained. Then the soldiers and pikemen grew very valiant, and\nshot out clouds of arrows, through the loopholes in the castle towers,\nupon townsmen and rioters alike.\n\nHalf a score of men were killed ere this day was ended, amongst them\nbeing that very apprentice who had wrestled on the day of Nottingham\nFair with little Stuteley, the tumbler, for Squire o' th' Hall's purse.\nRobin had an arrow through his hand, and nigh broke the shaft in pulling\nit out.\n\nThe greenwood men, well satisfied with the day's work, commenced an\norderly retreat. Little John lowered the bridge for them, when they\nreached the city gates, and all fell back into Sherwood in good style.\nStuteley had been rescued, and walked joyfully by the side of his\nmaster. Next to him was Little John, and near him the widow's three\nsons. They had already asked for and obtained permission to take up a\nfree life in the woods of Sherwood.\n\nTwo of the band had been killed by the murderous arrows of the Sheriff's\nfellows, and most of the outlaws bore wounds of some sort. Yet they were\nnot cast down. Sorrow sat upon them for the loss of those two brave\nhearts, but for their own hurts they cared naught. The bodies of their\ncomrades were being carried with them into the free and happy woods, and\nthere should find rest.\n\n\"Tell me, Midge,\" said Robin, presently, and looking round for him,\n\"what did become of the palmer who was so wishing to be of service to\nour Stuteley? He seemed a likeable old man, and I would not that we\nshould seem ungrateful.\"\n\n\"I much fear me that Monceux's fellows did capture him, the same who\nbore off thee, Will,\" said Midge. \"But they will scarcely do him hurt,\nbeing a holy man.\"\n\n\"I have no trust in either of them,\" Robin answered, vexed, \"and I am\ngrievously angry with you, Midge, for keeping this news to yourself.\nThe palmer must be recovered from Monceux, and at once. I will bethink\nme upon some plan to this end.\"\n\nThey walked on in silence. After a while, \"I ne'er thought, master,\"\nsaid Stuteley, brokenly, \"that I should see these woods again--nor meet\nLittle John, either in quarrel or in friendship, nor see any of your\ndear faces again.\"\n\n\"By my crown, which is the hardest part of me,\" Little John cried, \"I\nswear that in future you shall meet me how you will, gossip. Here's my\nhand on it.\"\n\nThus began the great friendship between these two, which was to last\nthem all their days. Robin was glad enough of it; but the doubtful fate\nof the palmer still troubled him sorely. If he had known then that\nbitter truth which he was to learn very shortly he would have ridden\nback forthwith into Nottingham town, there to end this story at once.\nLife had, however, many years and queer twists in it yet for Robin Hood\nof Barnesdale.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\n\nThe time of Nottingham Fair had come round once more, and again the\nSheriff would give a prize. Monceux determined to make the prize a good\none, such as might tempt any archer. He hoped thus that Robin might be\nlured into Nottingham.\n\nHe smiled to himself in grim satisfaction, and rubbed his hands softly\ntogether. To tell truth, he had been expecting Robin any moment during\nthese last ten days, and had wondered why he had not come. The palmer\nshould have proved a bait in himself, so the Sheriff imagined.\n\nBut Robin only learned on the eve of the Fair the whole truth about that\nholy man.\n\nIt was in this way. For ten nights had Robin waited at the trysting\nplace for sight of Marian; and had waited in vain.\n\nAt last doubt grew into suspicion, and suspicion into fierce terror. Had\nMarian been abducted by Monceux, and did the Squire fear to tell him?\n\nOn the night before the Fair he took courage and marched up to the\ncastle entrance, then wound his horn for the bridge to be lowered. Now,\nif Monceux could but have known, Robin would have been easy prey.\n\nHe rushed across the bridge soon as it had fallen, clangingly, upon the\nbuttresses. The same old servant met him at the gates, holding it open\njust a little way so that he might peer forth. Robin pulled his cloak\nabout himself.\n\n\"I would see Master Montfichet, and at once,\" he began.\n\n\"My master is in London,\" replied the man, eyeing him.\n\n\"Did he journey alone? Did not Mistress Fitzwalter go with him? When did\nthey go?\"\n\nRobin's questions came all of a rush. \"My master hath been gone near two\nweeks. He went alone from here. But tell me who you are, clamoring so\nnoisily with your questioning?\"\n\n\"I am Robin Hood,\" said Robin, in desperation, \"and now, for the love of\nHeaven, give me news of Mistress Fitzwalter.\"\n\n\"She left here on the day after my lord's departure.\"\n\n\"Hath left Gamewell?\" Robin gasped. \"How? In what way?\"\n\nThe man sniggered. \"To tell truth, excellence, she did leave us in\nstrange guise. I have pondered more than ever upon the ways of women\nsince the day. Mistress would have our maids make her a monk's gown, and\nI was bid to fashion her a staff such as these palmers carry in their\nhands. Then with sandalled feet----\"\n\n\"Did she go forth from here upon the day of the rioting in Nottingham,\nwhen Stuteley and the others escaped?\"\n\n\"It was upon the morning of that day,\" the man replied; \"and I promise\nyou, we have not seen her since.\"\n\nRobin turned abruptly from him. Next minute he was running blindly under\nthe night towards the city gates.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Sheriff's prize had been announced far and wide. For the best archer\nthere was an Arab horse, coal-black and worth a bag of gold, and with\nthe horse there would be a saddle of silver and fine leather. Also a\nsilk purse, worked by the demoiselle Marie, containing a hundred pieces.\n\nThere were other rewards for the quarter-staff and single-stick, but\nthis year there would be no tourney.\n\nIt was a f\u00eate-day, and folk crowded into Nottingham by all gates. These\nhad been lowered hospitably and were to remain down all day. The stages\nhad been erected for quarter-staff.\n\nThere was a fellow, one Nat of Nottingham, who was believed to be the\nfinest player at the game for many miles around. Several had tried their\nskill with Nat, but he had soon knocked every man of them off the stage\nrudely to the ground. He began boasting then of his prowess, and called\nthem all cowardly and the like.\n\nA lame beggar who had pushed himself well to the front of the ring about\nthe stage came in for a share of Nat's abuse. This was a strange-looking\nfellow, with very dirty ragged clothes upon him, and a black patch over\none eye. He wore a beard, pointed and untrimmed, and he listened very\ncalmly to the other's noisy chattering.\n\n\"Come up here, you dirty villain; and I'll dust your rags for you,\"\ncried Nat, flourishing his staff.\n\n\"If you will use a shorter staff than this, Master Wind-bag,\" said the\nbeggar, quietly, and showing his stick, \"I'll take all the beating _you_\ncan give me.\"\n\nWith scornful laughter Nat accepted this challenge.\n\nThe beggar took off his ragged coat and limped painfully on to the\nstage.\n\n[Illustration: ROBIN HOOD DEFEATS NAT OF NOTTINGHAM AT QUARTER-STAFF\n\n_The beggar dealt his foe a back-thrust so neatly, so heartily, and so\nswiftly that Nat was swept off the stage into the crowd as a fly off a\ntable._]\n\nThey fenced for an opening, both playing well. The beggar, for all\nhis limp and one eye, had a pretty notion of the sport, but he had the\nqueerest gait upon him; and as he hobbled round and round the stage\nunder Nat's blows the people laughed continuously.\n\nNat caught him smartly upon the right arm a sounding thwack. The beggar\nmade as if to drop his staff forthright, and Nat lifted himself for\nanother and crushing blow.\n\nBut the one-eyed man recovered his guard, sprang suddenly on one side,\nand, as Nat's staff was descending vainly, the beggar dealt his foe a\nback-thrust so neatly, so heartily, and so swiftly that Nat was swept\noff the stage into the crowd as a fly off a table.\n\nThe beggar waited the full time for him to return; and then claimed the\nprize.\n\nThe victory of this queer unknown was popular. Nat was a great bully and\nbraggart, and many of them had suffered insult at his hands. Therefore,\nwhen the beggar went to fetch his prize from the Sheriff's own hands,\nthere was great cheering and applause. He found Monceux seated in a\nhandsome booth, with his daughter and her maids, near by the archery\nrings. Here the shooting was in progress.\n\nThe Sheriff narrowly watched each competitor, and glanced often towards\nMistress Monceux. The demoiselle Marie had one of her women sitting near\nher feet, so that every movement she made might be observed. The\nSheriff's daughter signalled \"No,\" and \"No\" again to her father as the\nvarious bowmen took their places.\n\nThe beggar paused to watch the contest. It seemed to amuse him\nexceedingly.\n\nMaster Patch was thus for some minutes close to the Sheriff's tent. His\npatched eye was turned towards it, and he seemed to be blissfully\nunaware of the great man's near presence. But he had taken due note,\nnevertheless, of Master Monceux and his cold daughter, and the maid\nsitting so forlornly upon the hard ground at the latter's feet.\n\nOne of the Nottingham men, a tanner by trade, had so far been most\nsuccessful, and, like Nat, he began to be disdainful of the rest, and to\nswagger it somewhat each time his turn to shoot came round. \"The prize\nwill surely be thine, Arthur-\u00e0-Bland,\" cried Monceux, loudly clapping\nhis hands together after this fellow had made a fair shot.\n\n\"Indeed, I do not think that Master Hood himself would beat me to-day,\"\nadmitted Arthur-\u00e0-Bland, conceitedly.\n\nThe beggar heard both remark and answer. \"Thou speakest well, gossip,\"\nhe said, \"here in Nottingham town; yet I would venture to advise thee,\nwere this pretty place in Sherwood and the bold Robin within earshot.\"\n\nThe archer turned towards him. \"What do _you_ know, old Patch-and-Rags,\nof Robin Hood?\" he sneered, angrily.\n\n\"I know too much of him,\" answered the beggar. \"Once, like you, gossip,\nI boasted of my skill with the bow--'twas in Sherwood, whilst I was\nwalking with a stranger who had met me very civilly upon the road. Says\nhe: 'If you can hit yon mark I'll know you a better archer than Robin\nHood.' So I flew my shaft arrogantly, and 'twas a tidy shot, near two\nhundred paces. My arrow struck the mark fairly. 'What say you,\nstranger?' says I. He made for reply such a bowshot as never I have seen\nbefore; for, having stepped back a score of yards, he yet was able to\nspeed his arrow so cleverly as to split mine own from end to end. 'Thou\nart Robin Hood,' I said then, and I had fear upon me.\"\n\n\"What then?\" asked Arthur-\u00e0-Bland, composedly.\n\n\"For my boasting he gave me a drubbing,\" the beggar went on, \"and for my\narchery five silver crowns.\"\n\n\"Then thou canst bend the bow?\" said Arthur. \"Will you not attempt my\nlord Sheriff's prize, old Patch-and-Rags?\"\n\n\"Marry, I would most willingly,\" cried the beggar, \"but for my lame leg\nand blind eye.\"\n\n\"One does not need a leg to shoot arrows, nor yet two eyes. Take aim,\ngossip, and show us how you played the sport in Sherwood on that day.\"\n\nThe archer's tone was mocking; but the beggar only replied that he had\nalready won a prize and was content.\n\nJust then one of the Sheriff's guards approached him.\n\n\"My master would have speech with you, friend,\" said he.\n\n\"And so you have met bold Robin Hood?\" asked Monceux, so soon as the\nbeggar stood before him.\n\n\"Well do I know it,\" the beggar answered, writhing his eye in fiery\nglance about the Sheriff's tent. \"My body is full sore yet from the\nbeating he gave me.\"\n\n\"Are you sure 'twas Robin Hood?\"\n\n\"That am I. He is a slim, slight man with long hair, and small, fair\nbeard.\"\n\n\"If you could lead me to him, friend, I would reward you well,\" said the\nSheriff, in malicious tones.\n\n\"I will show the place where we met soon as you will, excellence,\"\nreplied the beggar.\n\nMonceux nodded, and made a sign of dismissal. \"I will speak further with\nyou later, friend,\" he said.\n\nThe beggar went back to the archer and said that now he would take a\nshot with him. \"I may as well win two prizes as one,\" he continued,\naffably, \"for the horse will help me carry my pieces.\"\n\nArthur-\u00e0-Bland was greatly incensed at this speech, and took aim with\nhands that trembled with anger. However, he made a pretty shot, and a\nround of cheering met his effort.\n\nThe beggar took the bow which one of the archers held out to him, and\nfitted his arrow to it with a great show of care. When at last he\nreleased the arrow all got ready to laugh and jeer at him.\n\nHe contrived, however, to surprise them once again, for his arrow was\nfound to be a full inch nearer the middle of the mark than all the\nothers.\n\nThey shot again and again, and at length Arthur-\u00e0-Bland lodged his shaft\nin the center of the target. \"Now mend that shot, Master Patch, an you\ncan,\" cried he.\n\n\"Nay, I fear that I must now yield the prize to you, gossip,\" declared\nthe beggar. \"Yet I will even do my best.\"\n\nHe aimed with every circumstance of effort, and flew his shaft with a\nloud sigh. It rose up high in the air as though it must fly altogether\nwide of the target, and folk had already opened their mouths to laugh,\nwhen suddenly it dropped in a graceful curve towards the mark, the steel\npoint struck exactly on the point of the other's arrow, just where it\nhad lodged loosely in the bull, and Master Bland's arrow came tumbling\nto the ground, leaving the beggar's shaft shaking in the very hole its\nopponent's arrow had made.\n\nThis wondrous feat of archery evoked the loudest applause, and had not\nthe Sheriff been so foolish a man, must have awakened suspicion in his\nbreast. But, no--Master Monceux pompously gave over the Arab horse with\nits saddle, and the purse of gold to the victorious beggar; and then\nturned to leave the sports.\n\nHe bade Master Carfax to see that the beggar did not go far away. The\nSheriff did not mean to lose his gifts so easily. But the beggar was\nvery willing to keep near to the Sheriff, and asked very humbly that he\nmight be given a place in Monceux's household, instead of taking this\nhorse, which was of small use to one of his trade.\n\n\"I will accept your offer,\" said Monceux, \"on the understanding that you\nwill take the captaincy of my archers.\"\n\nWith such a fellow as this in his household Monceux felt that he would\nsoon lay Robin Hood by the heels. So he strutted to his horse, and was\nlifted thereon in fine self-satisfaction. His daughter mounted her\npalfrey, and Carfax led the beast gently, whilst the maids had to hurry\nover the rough stones as best they might.\n\nThe beggar gripped his staff and limped along beside the women. His\nroving eye implored a glance from the grey-blue eyes of the maid who had\nsat so uncomfortably at her mistress's knee. She moved, with downcast\nlooks, after the rest, and only dared once peep at this strange ragged\nfellow.\n\nHis lips moved, making her a signal, then were shut resolutely.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThat night Monceux kept open house and grew noisy in his cups. He swore\nthat Robin Hood was both coward and villain not to have come into\nNottingham to take his chance of winning the horse and purse.\n\nEven as he spoke an arrow came flying in through one of the narrow\nwindows of the Sheriff's hall, and, curving, fell with a rattle upon the\ntable in front of the startled Monceux. Attached to it was an empty\npurse, Monceux's own--that one indeed which had that morn held the\nhundred pieces so comfortably! \"Where is that rascal beggar?\" cried the\nSheriff, suddenly having his doubts.\n\n\"Where is my maid?\" shrilled the demoiselle Marie, rushing in upon her\nfather.\n\n\"I did not send for her,\" shouted Monceux, seeing it all. \"Haste thee,\nSimeon, pursue them. They cannot be far away.\"\n\n\"Excellence, the Arab steed hath been stolen, and by thy beggar guest,\"\ncried one of the servants, running in at the other door. \"Even now he\nhas gained the bridge, carrying your new maid a-pillion, mistress. None\nmay hope to catch them on that fleet horse.\"\n\n\"They cannot win through the gates. After them, Simeon, as you love me.\nI never will look on you again if you do not capture Robin Hood and this\ngirl.\"\n\nMistress Monceux was quite beside herself with fury.\n\n\"Alas, mistress,\" said the servant, \"the gates of Nottingham stand\nwide; did not my master order it so but this very morn?\"\n\n\"Silence!\" roared Monceux; and, unable to control his rage, he struck\nthe fellow to the ground. \"After them, Simeon, and take what men you\nwill.\"\n\nMaster Carfax had other duty before him, however, for his gentle lady\nhad relapsed into a screaming hysteria. They slapped her hands and\npoured wine between her lips, and finally her maids had to cut her laces\nand put her to bed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\n\nDays passed into weeks and weeks into months, and Robin Hood was still\nto seek. The Sheriff waged an intermittent warfare with him, scoring a\nfew minor successes; then Robin moved himself and his men farther\nafield. Many of the Nottingham apprentices and other roving spirits\njoined when they might with Robin and his band.\n\nArthur-\u00e0-Bland, the tanner, who had so nearly won the Sheriff's prize,\nhad often in these days envious thoughts for the outlaws in their free\nlife. Anything was better, to his mind, than oak-bark and ditch-water\nand the smell of half-tanned hides. Also he was ambitious to beat Robin\nat his own game. By dint of perseverance Arthur had once come very nigh\nto emulating that masterly feat of archery by which Robin had wrested\nthe purse of gold and the Arab horse from him. Vastly elated at this\npromise of success, the tanner had flung down his trade and had marched\noff towards Barnesdale, armed with his bow and a long pike-staff. He\nstrode across the close turf, browning now under an August sun, and was\nsoon far away from the highroad and the small protection it afforded. He\nespied a herd of deer, and prepared himself to shoot one of them. Just\nas his bow was bent Robin came out of the bushes on his left hand; and,\nnot noticing the tanner, the young outlaw began to move stealthily round\nto the windward side of the beasts in order that they might make a\nfairer mark for his arrows.\n\n\"What makes you here so like a thief, gossip?\" enquired Arthur-\u00e0-Bland,\narrogantly. \"I am a keeper in this forest, and it is my duty to stay\nyou.\"\n\n\"Have you any assistants, friend?\" Robin asked, scarcely glancing\ntowards him. \"For it is not one man alone who will stop me.\"\n\n\"Truly, gossip,\" cried Arthur, \"I have no better assistant than this\ngood oak-graff; but he will do all that I want. For your sword and your\narrows I care not one straw--if I can get but a knock at your poll you\nwill ask me no further question.\"\n\nRobin unbuckled his belt at this; and, flinging his bow upon the ground,\ntore down a young sapling that was growing near by. With his dagger he\nquickly lopped it into shape; and then strode up to the tanner.\n\n\"Eight foot and a half, and 'twill knock down a calf,\" sang Arthur,\nflourishing his staff still more, \"and I hope it will knock down you.\"\n\nRobin sparred with him for a little, and then, making a sudden feint,\nbestowed such a blow on Master Bland that the blood ran down his cheek\nfrom his broken pate.\n\nBut the tanner did not accept this favor without making some return, and\nsoon was giving Robin as good as he gave. The wood rang with the noise\nof their blows, and the tanner laid on his strokes as if he were beating\nhides.\n\n\"Hold your hand,\" cried Robin, at last. \"You have done enough, and I\nwill make you free of these woods.\"\n\n\"Why, God-a-mercy,\" said Arthur, \"I may thank my staff for that, good\nfellow; not you.\"\n\n\"Well, well, gossip, let that be as it may. But ere we continue, tell\nme your name and trade, at the least. I fain would know who 'tis who\nhath beaten me so well.\"\n\n\"I am a tanner, gossip,\" replied Arthur, jovially now, \"and by my soul,\nif you will come to my pits I will tan your hide for naught.\"\n\n\"In sooth you have already done me that service,\" said Robin, ruefully.\n\"But, harkee, if you will leave your tanpots and come with me, as sure\nas my name is Robin Hood, you shall not want gold or fee.\"\n\n\"If you be Robin Hood,\" said Arthur, \"then I am Arthur-\u00e0-Bland; and I\nhave come to live with you and my cousin Little John, in the free woods\nof Barnesdale. That is, if you will have me.\"\n\n\"I have already given you freedom of the woods, and you shall see what\nwelcome Little John can offer,\" answered Robin. \"But tell me, friend,\nare you not that archer who so nearly won the Sheriff's horse from me in\nNottingham town?\"\n\nThe tanner acknowledged himself to be the man, and since Robin put it so\nhandsomely to him he forgot all his hard thoughts about the defeat. They\njoined hands in friendship and went together to find Little John, who\nseemed right glad to find his cousin ready to join the band.\n\nThe day was spent in the usual free and happy manner. And when time for\nsupper came round with the dusk Robin asked Little John for the name and\nstyle of their guest at supper this night. \"For,\" said Robin, \"you must\nhave got me at least a bishop, a baron, or a knight, or some squire from\nthe north country, to meet our new comrade to-night.\"\n\n\"We have no guest, master,\" answered Little John, regretfully.\n\n\"Then have I no stomach for my supper,\" Robin cried. \"Go you at once,\nLittle John, and you, Stuteley, and you also, Much, and find us such a\nguest, worthy of our company, and well able to pay for the pleasure of\nit.\"\n\n\"Where may they find so desirable a man?\" asked the little ferret Midge,\neagerly.\n\n\"Go into Watling Street,\" Robin told them. \"At this time o' th' year\nthere are many people passing that way.\"\n\n\"May Heaven send us a guest speedily,\" said Arthur-\u00e0-Bland, \"for I am\ngrowing wondrous hungry.\"\n\nThe three outlaws started off at once and in high spirits, the adventure\nbeing one much to their liking. They had scarcely watched the great\nhighroad known to all as Watling Street (and which runs from Dover in\nKent to Chester town) for many minutes, when they espied a knight riding\nby in a very forlorn and careless manner. One foot was in the stirrups,\nthe other out; his visor was raised above his eyes, and his face was\npinched and woebegone.\n\nLittle John approached the stranger and bade him stay; for who can judge\nof a man's wealth by his looks? The outlaw saluted the knight\ncourteously and informed him that his master was fasting, having waited\nsupper for him a full three hours.\n\nThe knight reined in his sorry steed, and glanced toward his questioner\nwith lack-lustre eye. Little John repeated his speech.\n\n\"And who is your master?\" asked the knight then.\n\n\"None other than Robin Hood, of Barnesdale,\" Little John returned,\nlaying his great hand on the knight's bridle. \"He bids us speed you to\nthe feast.\"\n\nSeeing the other two, the knight shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\"'Tis clear that this is an invitation which will brook no refusal,\" he\nsaid. \"So I will go with you, friends.\"\n\nWhen they were returned to Barnesdale, Robin saluted the knight very\nmagnificently; and his horse having been cared for, all sat down to a\nplentiful supper of venison, pheasants, and various small birds.\n\nAfter partaking liberally of the good cheer, the knight brightened up\nconsiderably and declared that he had not enjoyed so good a meal for\nnigh three weeks; and he vowed that if ever Robin and his comrades\nshould come to his country he would entertain them with an equally\nworthy and honorable repast.\n\nThis was not, however, the exact payment which Robin had intended. He\nthanked the knight, therefore, and reminded him that a yeoman like\nhimself might hardly offer such a supper to a knight as a gift of\ncharity.\n\n\"I have no money, Master Hood, nevertheless,\" answered the knight,\nfrankly. \"I have so little of this world's goods in sooth that I should\nbe ashamed to offer that which I have.\"\n\n\"Money, however little, always finds a welcome from us,\" said Robin,\nsmiling. \"Will you deem me too impertinent, Sir Knight, if I ask what\nmoneys you have?\"\n\n\"I have, of my own, ten silver pennies,\" said the knight. \"Here they\nare, and I wish they were a hundred times as many.\" He handed Little\nJohn his pouch; and the big fellow soon had knowledge of its contents.\nIt was as the knight said, no more nor less.\n\nRobin filled his guest a bumper of wine, and made a sign for Little John\nto hand back the pouch.\n\n\"Pledge me, Sir Knight,\" cried the merry outlaw, \"and pledge me\nheartily, for these be sorry times. I see that your armor is bent and\nthat your clothes are worn. Tell me now, were you a yeoman and made a\nknight by force? Or have you been bad steward to yourself and wasted\nyour property in lawsuits and the like? Be not bashful with me, we shall\nnot betray your secrets.\"\n\n\"I am a Norman knight in my own right; and I have always lived a sober\nand quiet life,\" the sorrowful knight replied. \"My father, and his\nfather, and his father's father were all knights of the King; but, as is\noften the case, friend Robin, rich men sometimes find their riches fly\naway from them. Until within this last year I have contrived by dint of\ncare and labor, to live on the few hundreds of rent and the like which\nfall to me year by year; but now I have only these ten pennies of silver\nand my wife and children three.\"\n\nRobin asked how his moneys had gone from him.\n\n\"I lost them through misfortune and naught else,\" the knight declared,\nsighing. \"I have a son--a good youth--who, when he was but twenty years\nof age, could play prettily in jousts and tournaments and other knightly\ngames. He had the ill luck to push his sports too far; and did kill a\nknight of Lancashire in a battle _\u00e0 outrance_. To save my boy I had to\nsell my lands and mortgage my estates; and this not being enough, in\nthe end I have had to borrow money from my lord of Hereford.\"\n\n\"A most worthy Bishop,\" said Robin, ironically; \"I know him well.\"\n\n\"He seemeth to be a hard man in law,\" said the knight; \"and since I\ncannot pay him the four hundred pieces he has promised to foreclose his\nmortgage on our home.\"\n\n\"Have you not any friends who would become a surety for you, Sir\nKnight?\" queried Robin, thoughtfully.\n\n\"None. My friends have fallen away from me in mine adversity as leaves\nfrom an autumn tree.\"\n\n\"Fill your goblet again, Sir Knight,\" Robin commanded; and he turned to\nwhisper a word in Marian's ear. She nodded, and beckoned Little John and\nMuch the Miller to her side.\n\n\"Here is health and prosperity to you, gallant Robin,\" the knight said,\ntilting his goblet, \"and my best thanks for your cheer. Would that I\nmight make better recompense.\"\n\nThe two outlaws, with Mistress Marian, had now consulted the others, and\nall seemed to be agreed. Warrenton, as treasurer to the band, was sent\ninto one of the inner caves, and presently returned, bearing a bag of\ngold. He counted it out before the knight; and there were four times one\nhundred golden pieces.\n\n\"Take this loan from us, Sir Knight, and pay your debt to the Bishop,\"\nRobin told him. \"Nay, no thanks; you are but exchanging creditors.\nMayhap we shall not be so hard on you as was the Christian Bishop; yet\nagain, we may be harder. Who can say, where human nature is concerned?\"\n\nMuch now appeared, dragging a bale of cloth. \"The knight should have a\nsuit worthy of his rank, master, do you not think?\"\n\n\"Measure him twenty ells of it,\" Robin ordered.\n\n\"Give him your Arab horse also,\" whispered Marian; \"it is a gift which\nwill come back to you fourfold, for this is a worthy man. My father doth\nknow him well.\"\n\nSo the horse was given also, and Robin bade Arthur-\u00e0-Bland ride as\nesquire to the knight; to be good use and to fulfil his first duty as\none of the band.\n\nThe knight was sorrowful no longer. He could scarcely voice his thanks\nto them; and was nigh overcome when time for his departure came round on\nthe following morning.\n\n\"God save you, comrades,\" said he, with deep feeling in his tones, \"and\ngive me a grateful heart.\"\n\n\"We shall wait for you twelve months from to-day, here in this place,\"\nsaid Robin, smiling cheerfully. \"And then you will repay us for the loan\nof the gold.\"\n\n\"I shall return it to you within a year,\" replied the knight, firmly.\n\"So sure as I am Sir Richard of the Lee, the money shall be returned,\nwith interest beside. Look for me in the early days of March, friends,\nfor then I expect to have good news of my son.\"\n\n\"Then, or later, Sir Knight, as you will,\" said Robin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\n\nThe Sheriff having failed to ensnare Robin Hood, and Master Simeon\nhaving done so little better, it became clear that a more wise person\nthan either must attempt the business. The demoiselle Marie had\nrecovered from her fit of anger, and announced her intention of showing\nthem both how such an affair should be approached. To this end she\nemployed herself in archery and won some accomplishment in the sport;\nthen she caused Master Fitzwalter's house to be searched thoroughly and\nany writings of his to be brought to her.\n\nMistress Monceux engaged her fingers next in a pretty schooling,\nteaching them to hold a pen as awkwardly as might Master Fitzwalter\nhimself. So she produced at last a writing purporting to come from him\nto Maid Marian, his daughter. She wrote it simply and in few words:--\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n     \"This to my dear child Marian, from her affectionate father, Henry\n     Fitzwalter, now in the Court of St. James, in London town. I send\n     you all greetings, and am well both in mind and spirit. I pray God\n     that He has kept you as jealously in my long absence from home.\n     This is to tell you, dear heart, that, after all, I shall return to\n     Nottingham, mayhap very soon, and that you are to provide\n     accordingly. I have had tidings of you given to me by my lord\n     Bishop of Hereford, and now send you this by the hand of his man,\n     who returns to Nottingham on other business of my lord's. I pray\n     you to remain closely in Nottingham during my absence.\n\n  \"(Signed) FITZWALTER, Warden of the City Gates.\n  \"The twenty-fifth day of August, 1188.\"\n\n\n\n\nThe demoiselle Marie had made several attempts before she had succeeded\nin producing a letter so entirely to her satisfaction; and when she had\nsealed the above with the Fitzwalter arms and had addressed it, she felt\nsuch a glow of pride in it that she could scarce bring herself to part\nwith the missive.\n\nAt length she bade one of her maids fetch Master Simeon to her. When,\nall delighted, he stood before her, his love handed him the note.\n\n\"Take this, dear fool,\" said she, kindly, \"and bring it to the hand of\nthe maid Fitzwalter. She is with the outlaws in Barnesdale, hidden in\none of their deeps, no doubt. I care not how you give it to her so long\nas you are speedy.\"\n\n\"I will send it by the hand of Roger, your father's cook. He is well\nacquainted with their hiding-places.\"\n\n\"That would be to spoil my plot at its outset,\" Marie answered,\ncuttingly. \"Gather your wandering wits, and bethink you of some more\nlikely messenger. Have you not someone in this town who can be trusted?\"\n\n\"I have the very man for it,\" suddenly cried Carfax. \"There is a young\nknight, one who hath been exiled by the King for plotting with Prince\nJohn. He is the only son of our fiery neighbor Montfichet. He hath done\nsecret work for the Prince, and will do it again if he believes that he\nhath need for it.\"\n\n\"You are for ever employed in doubtful business,\" said Marie, crossly.\n\"I do not like your fiddling with Prince John. You may be sure that\nRichard will succeed to the throne; and then we shall see where your\nplottings have brought you.\"\n\n\"Richard hath already succeeded,\" said Carfax, whisperingly. \"I had the\nnews but an hour since. Old Henry of Angevin is King no more--he is\ndead. And Richard, _Coeur de Lion_, as the commoners do call him, hath\ngone to Palestine, all unknowing that he is King!\"\n\n\"So you think that John may seize the throne?\" sneered Marie Monceux,\nunconvinced. \"Let it be, I tell you, Simeon. In any case we must destroy\nthese outlaws of Sherwood or they will destroy us. If they be not\nexterminated by the end of this year my father will cease to be\nSheriff.\"\n\n\"May the Lord forbid!\" cried Carfax, startled.\n\n\"Ay, and we shall be poor folk, Simeon, unworthy of you, no doubt. But\nthat is not yet. Take this note, and send it how you will so long as it\ncomes to this girl's hands within two days.\"\n\nCarfax accepted the charge; and went into the lodgings of one who had\nentered the town within the last few hours--none other, indeed, than\nGeoffrey de Montfichet, who had brought Master Simeon the startling news\nof the King's sudden death.\n\nGeoffrey perceived that he might openly show himself now if the Sheriff\nwould but ignore the dead King's decree of exile passed upon him. He was\nsounding Carfax in the matter, and the wily go-between was temporizing\nin his usual way--trying to make some gain to himself out of one or the\nother of them.\n\n\"If you will but carry this letter to Mistress Fitzwalter, who is with\nthy cousin Robin Fitzooth in Barnesdale, Sir Knight,\" said Simeon,\nplausibly, \"you will win the gratitude of the Sheriff's daughter, at the\nleast; and she doth rule the roost here, as I can tell you. 'Tis but a\nletter from Master Fitzwalter to his child.\"\n\n\"I know the woods and will take the note,\" Geoffrey said. \"See to it\nthat Monceux does not move against me.\"\n\n\"His girl will tie his hands, if need be,\" grinned Carfax. \"Ay, she can\ndrive us all. God speed you, Sir Knight.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt fell out that whilst Robin was walking alone near the highroad to\nYork, close to that very bridge whereon he had fought with Little John,\nhe perceived a smart stranger dressed in scarlet and silk. Just as Robin\nespied this gay gentleman and was marvelling at his daring in walking\nthese woods so coolly, unattended by squire or guard, the knight deftly\nfitted an arrow to his bow, and with a clever shot brought down a fine\nstag.\n\n\"Well hit,\" cried Robin, who could never abstain from admiration of a\ngood bowman. \"You have used your bow full well, Sir Knight.\"\n\nThe scarlet knight turned towards Robin, and, taking him for some\nhusbandman or hind, called out in high tones, asking how he dared to\nspeak to his betters in that insolent way.\n\n\"How is one to know one's betters, Sir Knight?\" queried Robin,\ncheerfully. \"A noble is not always known by his dress, but rather by his\nmanners and his deeds.\"\n\n\"Your insolence shall be well paid for,\" returned the other, putting by\nhis bow and drawing his sword. Without further argument he approached\nRobin angrily, and struck at him with meaning.\n\nRobin was too quick for him, however, and caught the blow upon the edge\nof his own trusty blade. After a few passes Robin feinted, and, catching\nthe other unawares, dealt him a thwack with the flat of his blade. The\nscarlet stranger reeled under the blow.\n\n\"I find you are not so mean a person as I had thought,\" observed he, in\na series of gasps. \"Yet, even now, 'tis not amiss that you should have a\nlesson.\"\n\nWith that the two engaged heartily, and fought for nigh an hour, without\neither side gaining an advantage.\n\nAt length he succeeded in pricking Robin on the cheek.\n\n\"Hast enough, fellow?\"\n\n\"A rest would be welcome,\" admitted Robin, with a laugh.\n\nThey called a truce and sat down side by side beneath a tree. The\nstranger eyed Robin thoughtfully; and Robin glanced back at him, with\nhis suspicions slowly growing to certainty. Presently:\n\n\"You are he whom they call Robin Hood, I take it,\" said the stranger,\n\"although I do not know you by such a strange name.\"\n\n\"It is my own name,\" replied the outlaw, \"and I am proud of it. Are you\nnot Geoffrey of Gamewell?\"\n\n\"That _was_ my name, cousin, even as yours was once Robin Fitzooth, but\nnow I call myself Will Scarlett. 'Tis a whimsey; but since Geoffrey\nMontfichet has a bigger price on his head than I can afford to pay, why,\nI have buried him under a prettier name! But tell me why you are\ndressed so plainly. On my life, I did not know you when first we met.\"\n\n\"A man should have clothes to suit his work, cousin,\" argued Robin. \"And\n'tis a wonder to me that you should have been able to kill yon stag with\nsuch a wild color upon you. Howbeit, thy arrow was shrewd enough, and\nI'll say no more than to tell how well pleased I am to have fallen in\nwith you again. Here's my hand in all true affection, cousin Scarlett.\"\n\n\"And mine, cousin Hood.\"\n\nThey carried the stag between them to Barnesdale; and Robin learned that\nhis cousin had a letter with him for Marian. When Robin heard who had\ngiven it to Will Scarlett his suspicions were immediately awakened.\n\n\"However, let us give Marian the letter, and see what she may think upon\nit,\" he observed. \"There cannot be much harm in that.\"\n\nThus did Mistress Monceux succeed admirably in the first part of her\nscheme.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSoon as Marian had had her letter she was all agog to go back into\nNottingham. She showed the scroll to Robin, and though his heart misgave\nhim he could hardly say her nay. No doubt as to the genuineness of the\nletter occurred to Marian: she knew her father's peculiarly awkward\nhandwriting too well. Certainly the phrasing of it seemed a little too\neasy for so plain a man, yet since he had been so long in London he had,\nof course, acquired Court ways.\n\nOn the third week in September Marian determined to return to her old\nhome, and take the risk of any treachery.\n\n\"Allan-a-Dale and Fennel shall go with you, dear heart,\" said Robin.\n\"Why not? They can appear as your father's guests, and the two maids\nwill help you keep house. Also Warrenton shall go as Allan's man. I can\nbe sure that these faithful ones will guard my pretty love from all\nharm.\"\n\n\"Am I indeed your pretty love?\" asked Marian, in foolish happiness; \"are\nyou sure that you would not have some other maid--to wit, the demoiselle\nMarie? She hath an eye for you, as I know--for all she seemeth so much\nour enemy. Trust a woman for finding out another woman's secret!\"\n\nMistress Fennel was not loth to leave the greenwood. In the summer\nmonths the life was none too bad a one, but now that September mists and\nrains were upon Barnesdale, the young wife shivered and complained.\n\"Hereford is the only one we need fear, after all,\" Allan admitted;\n\"your old baron would never look for us in Nottingham.\"\n\n\"And the Bishop is in London,\" said Marian, showing her letter. \"See\nwhat my father saith.\"\n\nTherefore Robin and his men were left to their own devices in the matter\nof cooking and kitchen work soon as September's third week had come and\ngone. Allan-a-Dale, Warrenton, the two girls and their two maids, all\ntravelled into Nottingham on the best horses that the outlaws could\nprovide, under escort so far as Gamewell. They were secretly watched\ninto the town, that Robin might be sure no one attempted any treachery.\n\nIt was arranged that Allan should come himself to Gamewell, and seek the\nSquire's friendship on some near occasion. Then he might tell the old\nman about Marian and how she had left his roof.\n\nMontfichet would not be vexed with her, Marian felt. If he were, she\nwould come herself, and coax him. Also either Allan or Warrenton would\nfind means to send Robin news of the household, and tell him whether\nFitzwalter returned as the latter promised.\n\nSo all safeguards that wit could devise were taken, and Robin, having\nkissed her little fingers very tenderly, left Marian with her cort\u00e8ge,\nupon the road by Gamewell, and having satisfied himself that all had\ngained safe entrance to Nottingham, journeyed back to the caves at\nBarnesdale with quiet mien. His heart told him to suspect some evil\nplot--yet where could he find one? Scarlett, his own cousin, had brought\nthe letter, and Marian had recognized the writing.\n\nOh, how dull the caves and the woods seemed without her! Tuck and the\nmiller had employed themselves in cooking them all a royal dinner; and\nStuteley tried his best to lighten the gloom. Robin laughed with them,\nand sought to hide his grief, feeling it to be unmanly.\n\nBut never had he enjoyed a feast so little in the free woods as this\none. Good food and good company he had, but not that salt with which to\nsavor them--a merry heart.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\n\nThe autumn ripened into winter. Allan found means to send Robin news of\nthem often: Master Fitzwalter had not returned; but had sent another\nletter saying that he would do so ere long. They all were happy and\nunmolested in the city. Of the Sheriff and his daughter they had seen\nnothing. That Warrenton was well, and that they had gotten them a\nman-cook and other servants.\n\nMarian wrote little crabbed messages to him. Brief and ill-spelt as they\nwere, they became Robin's chiefest treasures. Marian forebore making any\nattempt to see her love, for fear that she might be watched and\nfollowed, and so bring about Robin's capture. She fretted sorely at this\nrestraint placed upon her by Allan's more prudent hands.\n\nThe demoiselle Marie had made a miscalculation. She knew that presently\nRobin would seek Marian, even in the lion's mouth. _Then_ would come the\nday of the Sheriff's triumph.\n\nThe little house of the Fitzwalters was spied upon from within. No one\nbethought them of this new cook. Had Little John once espied him there\nwould have been a different tale to tell, however.\n\nHe had offered his services to Warrenton at a small premium, saying that\nhe had lost his last place with being too fond of his bed.\n\nHe said his name was Roger de Burgh, and that he came of good family.\nThe wages he asked were so small, and he seemed so willing, and had been\nso frank as to his failing, that Marian bade him take up his quarters\nforthwith in her father's house.\n\nLife passed uneventfully for them in the Fitzwalter household. It was\nneither happy nor unhappy. Mistress Fennel found it vastly more amusing\nthan the draughty caves of Barnesdale; but then Mistress Fennel had her\ndear--and Marian had not. She was vaguely disturbed at her father's\nlengthened absence. Surely he should by now have determined where he\nwould live--Nottingham or London.\n\nThe months crawled on and Christmas came and went.\n\nMarian was still tied to Nottingham streets and Robin to Barnesdale\nwoods. This state of inactivity had told much upon the greenwood\nmen--upon Little John most of all.\n\nAt last the big fellow fell out with Friar Tuck, and began to grumble at\neveryone in turn. Robin, in despair, bade him go into Nottingham, to see\nhow the land lay there. \"If you must be breaking someone's head, Little\nJohn, let it be one of our enemies who shall suffer. But have a care,\nfor your tongue is as long as your body. Choose a cunning disguise\ntherefor.\"\n\n\"I will go as a beggar,\" said Little John, brightening up at the\nprospect of adventure. \"For a beggar may chatter as much as he\nwill--'tis part of his trade.\"\n\nSo clad all in rags, and bent double as though with age, Little John\nwent forth from their caves upon a February morning. He supported\nhimself with a stout oak staff, and carried two great bags upon his\nshoulders. One held his food, and the other was to be refuge for\nanything of note that he might find left about--such as Sheriff's plate,\nto wit, or a Bishop's valuables.\n\nHe encountered four fellows of the like profession near by Nottingham\nnorth gate. One was dumb, another blind, the other two halt and lame.\n\"Give you good morrow, brothers,\" said he, in a gruff voice. \"It's my\nfortune that brings me to you, for I am in sore need of company. What is\nthere a-doing in Nottingham since the bells be ringing a-merrily? Are\nthey hanging a man, or skinning a beggar?\"\n\n\"Neither one nor the other, you crooked churl,\" replied one of the\ncrippled beggars. \"The Sheriff is returned from London with his\ndaughter, and the folk are giving him a welcome, such as you will never\nhave from the city! Stand back, for there is no room for you there. Four\nof us as it is are too many, and we have come here to settle who shall\ngo on and who turn back.\"\n\n\"And how will you settle such a knotty point, gossip?\"\n\n\"Marry, with our sticks,\" retorted the beggar, threateningly. \"But first\nwe will dispose of you;\" and he made a fierce blow at Little John.\n\n\"If it be a fight that your stomachs are yearning for--why, I am the man\nfor you all,\" Little John said at once, \"and I will beat the four of you\nheartily, whether you be friends or enemies.\" Then he began to twirl his\nstaff right merrily, and gave the dumb fellow such a crack upon his\ncrown that he began to roar lustily.\n\n\"Why, I am a doctor, then, since I can cure dumbness,\" cried the\noutlaw. \"Now let me see whether I can mend your broken leg, gossip,\" and\nhe cut the first cripple so suddenly across the shins that he dropped\nhis staff and commenced to dance with pain. \"Now for your eyes, friend.\"\n\nBut the blind one did not wait for the cure. He took to his heels\nforthwith, running surprisingly straight. The other lame one ran after\nhim full as fast.\n\nLittle John caught them after a short chase, and dusted their rags\nthoroughly.\n\n\"Give you good day, brothers,\" said he, then, well satisfied. \"Now I am\ngoing to welcome the Sheriff, and, as you say Nottingham is too small a\nplace for us all, therefore speed you towards Lincoln; 'tis a pretty\ntown and none too far for such strong legs.\"\n\nHis flourishing stick spoke even more eloquently. The four of them\nshuffled away speedily, sore in their minds and bodies.\n\nNottingham was gay indeed. The Sheriff had returned from London, where\nhe had been in order to gain more time for the capture of Robin Hood and\nhis men. His daughter had complete faith in her scheme--it was bound in\nthe end to be successful.\n\n\"Be patient, and all will be well,\" she told her father. But Christmas\nwas the end of the time which Prince John had allowed Monceux for\nRobin's capture. Therefore, both the Sheriff and his daughter had\njourneyed to Court to see what instructions had been left, and whether\nthey might not get the time extended.\n\nThey contrived by spending much money in bribes, and in giving grand\nentertainments, to achieve their ends. King Richard was away in the\nHoly Land. Prince John was well employed in stirring up the barons to\nespouse him as King while there was such an opening. There was thus no\nactual monarch, and none in the Court to care much about the Sheriff or\nRobin. Those high in authority accepted the Sheriff's bribes, and bade\nhim take till Doomsday.\n\nSquire Montfichet, who was, as we know, a staunch supporter of the old\norder of things, would recognize no other King than Richard. As a matter\nof fact, the old man had no great love for him, but he was, after all,\nthe true King, and Montfichet threw all his weight into the scale\nagainst John. The Saxon nobles were also active, feeling that now was\ntheir chance to recover power.\n\nSo Monceux and the demoiselle saw for themselves that they had nothing\nto fear from the Court, at any rate. They had stayed and enjoyed\nthemselves in the city, and the Sheriff was able to make himself\npresently very useful.\n\nThe Princess of Aragon, one of the Court beauties, had need of an escort\nto York. She was going there to be married (much against her royal will)\nto one of the great Saxon notables. This was an arrangement made by the\nRichard party, in the hopes of winning the Saxons to themselves, as\nagainst John, who had already Salisbury, De Bray, and the cunning\nFitzurse upon his side.\n\nThe Sheriff had arrived with his train in great state, just as Little\nJohn entered Nottingham. The outlaw came in by the north gate, as\nMonceux, proud of escorting the pretty Princess, entered by the south.\nNottingham was gay with bunting and flags, and the bells were ringing\nnoisily.\n\nIt was a royal procession, and soon as Little John was able to join with\nit his bag began to swell rapidly. Many a pocket did his sharp knife\nslice away from the side of unsuspecting wealthy citizens.\n\nSports were held in the fields, and the beggar had a merry time of it.\nTowards nightfall his bags were both filled, and he began to think it\nabout time to attend to the commissions which Robin had laid upon him.\nThis was to convey a letter to Marian, and to discover how Allan-a-Dale\nand his little wife were faring.\n\nLittle John shuffled with his bags along the narrow streets until he\ncame to the house. He began to cry his wares, calling out that he was\nready to change new goods for old ones, that he would buy old clothes\nand give good money for them.\n\nMarian and the rest had, however, gone to see the sights, for there were\nto be illuminations. Only Roger the cook had been left in charge, and\nhe, having glanced once at the noisy beggar, angrily bade him begone.\n\nLittle John only shouted the louder, and the cook furiously flung to the\ncasement windows. The beggar passed by the house slowly, still calling\n\"old clothes,\" as if he had not even noticed the angry cook.\n\nYet Roger's few angry words had awoke sharp recognition in Little John.\n\"By my rags and bags,\" muttered he, amazed, \"this rascal needeth much\nkilling!\" The scene in the Sheriff's kitchen arose before him. \"This\ntime I will fling you into the river, Master Roger--be sure of it. I\nwonder what evil hath brought you to this house of all others! If by\nchance you have harmed any one of them vengeance shall fall upon you\nswift and deadly.\"\n\nA thin rain had commenced to fall, and so the beggar turned back.\n\nThe house was dark and silent. The beggar stopped in front of it\nuncertainly, grumbling under his breath at the driving rain. Just as he\nwas about to move towards the door, the click of its latch warned him to\njump back into the shadows of the next house.\n\nA white face looked out of the Fitzwalter home, stealthily peering right\nand left. Little John crept farther into the shadows.\n\nThe cook came out into the wet road. He seemed to be scared and\ntroubled. After a moment's pause he returned to the house, entered it\nsilently, and Little John heard the latch click once more.\n\n\"Now, what mischief is in the air?\" thought Little John. \"Some knavish\nbusiness doubtless, or my friend Roger would not be in it. By my faith,\nI do mistrust that man.\"\n\nHe went back into the middle of the road with his sacks, and commenced\ncrying his wares afresh. Almost at once Roger opened the door again. \"A\nmurrain upon you, noisy rascal,\" he called; \"can you not be still?\"\n\n\"Ay, truly, an it pay me,\" answered Little John, lurching towards him,\nas though he were tipsy. \"Can I strike a bargain with you, gossip?\"\n\n\"What have you in the sacks, beggar?\"\n\n\"Everything in the world, brother. I have gifts for the rich, presents\nfor the poor.\"\n\n\"Have you anything fit for a cook?\" asked Roger.\n\n\"I have a basting spoon and a spit.\"\n\n\"I will give you meat and bread--much as you can carry--if you have such\na spoon as my kitchen lacks,\" whispered Roger.\n\nLittle John dived his hand into a sack, and brought out a silver ladle,\nwhich he had stolen from a shop that day. Roger took it eagerly, and his\nfingers were icy cold.\n\n\"Put your sacks down by the door, dear gossip,\" said Roger, after a\nmoment's pause. \"_Here_ they will be out of the rain. I must go within\nto examine this ladle.\"\n\n\"Have you not a tankard of ale to give me?\" begged Little John, \"I am\nworn with the day.\"\n\n\"Enter, friend,\" Roger said then. \"Tread lightly, for fear we disturb my\nfolk.\" He took Little John into the dark passage. \"I'll bring your sacks\nin for you, whilst you are here,\" continued Roger, very obligingly; and\nbefore the other could say him yea or nay, he had pulled the sacks into\nthe house and had closed the door tightly.\n\nIt was very dark, and Little John thought it only prudent to keep his\nfingers on his knife. He heard the cook rustling about near to him, and\npresently came a faint sound as if one of the sacks had bulged forward\nand shifted its contents. \"Hasten with the ale, good friend,\" whispered\nLittle John, hoarsely. \"I feel mighty drowsy in this close place; soon I\nshall be asleep.\"\n\nRoger's voice answered him then softly from the end of the narrow hall,\nand almost at once the cook appeared with a lantern. He came creakingly\nover the boards, and handed Little John a mug of beer. \"Your ladle is\nof the right sort, dear gossip,\" he announced, \"and I will give you a\npenny for it.\"\n\n\"Twenty silver pennies is my price for the spoon,\" answered Little John,\ntossing off the ale at a draught. \"Give it to me, brother, or return me\nmy spoon. I do not find your ale to my taste,\" he added, wiping his\nmouth.\n\nRoger opened the door roughly. \"Then begone, ungrateful churl,\" he\ncried, forgetting his caution. He tried to push Little John roughly out\ninto the night. \"What! would you try to steal my bags?\" roared Little\nJohn, suddenly snatching hold of Roger by the scruff of his neck. \"You\nvillain--you rascally wretch--you withered apple!\"\n\nHe tossed and shook Roger like a rat, and finally flung him into the\ncenter of the muddy road. \"Help! help!\" screamed the cook, at the full\npitch of his voice. \"Help! a thief, a thief! Help! murder! help!\"\n\nHis cries at once attracted notice. The dull, dead street became\ninstantly alive. With an angry exclamation Little John dashed into the\npassage, seized up his bags, and fled, stepping upon the writhing body\nof the cook as he ran.\n\nLittle John turned the first corner at top speed. Three men rushed at\nhim with drawn swords. He swung his bags right and left and felled two\nof them. The third he butted with his head, and the man asked no more.\n\nUnder the wet driving night Little John ran. The bags sadly impeded him,\nbut he would not let them go. He darted down a little court to avoid a\ndozen clutching hands, and fancied he had now safety.\n\nHe paused, drawing in his breath with a sob. The race had tried him\nterribly. The court was all dark, and his pursuers had overshot it; next\ninstant, however, they recovered the scent and were upon him full cry.\n\nLittle John, snatching his bags, dashed up to the end of the alley.\nThere was a door, which yielded to him.\n\nNext instant he had plunged into the open lighted space before\nNottingham Castle, into the midst of a shouting throng. The\nilluminations had not been a success, owing to the rain, but they gave\nenough light to achieve Little John's undoing. The beggar was seized and\nhis bags were torn from him, just as those other pursuers sprang out\nthrough the alley.\n\n\"He hath robbed a house, and killed a man,\" shouted the foremost. \"Hold\nhim fast and sure.\"\n\n\"Nay--I have killed no one,\" cried the giant, struggling hopelessly and\ndesperately. \"Take my bags an you will; I was but bearing them to my\nmaster.\"\n\n\"Pretty goods to be carrying, indeed,\" said a voice, as someone turned\none bag upside down. On to the hard wet stones rolled a number of things\ncollected by this industrious outlaw--pockets, daggers, purses, knives,\npieces of gold, and pennies of silver, a motley company of valuables.\n\n\"They are my master's,\" panted Little John, furiously. \"Let them be.\"\n\n\"See what he hath in the other sack,\" cried another. \"He seemeth to have\nrobbed our butchers also.\" The sack was opened, and the contents laid\nbare.\n\nA sudden silence fell upon the crowd, a silence of horror and hate. Then\na thousand tongues spoke at once, and Little John, frozen cold with\nloathing, saw under the flickering lamps a dreadful thing.\n\nOut of the second sack had fallen the limbless trunk of a dead man, cold\nand appalling even in this uncertain light. A head, severed through the\njugular arteries, rolled at his feet, grinning and ghastly.\n\n\"'Tis Master Fitzwalter,\" whispered one, in a lull. \"Dead and\ndishonored----\"\n\nThe clamor became deafening, and Little John felt his senses failing\nfast. He was beaten and struck at by them all; they tore at him, and\ncursed him.\n\nTheir blows and their rage were as nothing beside the thought of that\nawful thing upon the ground. The crowd and the lamps reeled and swam\nbefore the outlaw's eyes and became blurred.\n\nBut the grim vision of that dreadful body became plainer and plainer to\nhim. It assumed terrible proportions, shutting out all else.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\n\nAs the days sped on and nothing was heard of Little John, Robin began to\ngrow more and more anxious. He made up his mind to go himself into\nNottingham and there see Marian, and discover and (if need be) rescue\nhis faithful herdsman.\n\nAll the greenwood men were against him in this, however, and for once\nhad their own way. \"Let me go, Master,\" begged Stuteley; \"for my life is\nof little account compared with yours.\"\n\n\"I will go,\" said Scarlett. \"There is no such animus in the Sheriff's\nmind against me as he hath against the rest of you. I can ask for Master\nCarfax and he will perforce treat me fairly.\"\n\n\"I am not so sure of it,\" said Robin, significantly; \"I would not trust\nMaster Simeon further than a rope would hold him. Still, what you say is\nfair enough, cousin, and if you will go into the city for us we shall\nall be grateful. For my part, I would dearly like to accompany you.\"\n\n\"Your duty is here,\" answered Scarlett. \"Rely on me. I will find out\nwhat hath chanced to Little John, and will also attend Mistress\nFitzwalter.\"\n\nWill Scarlett started at once, and bore himself so well that he made\nsight of Gamewell within two hours. He paused for a moment without his\nfather's house, regarding the old place with half scornful eyes. Then,\n\"What is to be, must be,\" said Will, to hearten himself.\n\nHe walked on toward Nottingham meditatively. If he could have met old\nGamewell then and there he would have stopped him and asked his\nforgiveness. 'Twas in the morning, the sweet fresh morn, in the happy\nwoods, wherein birds fluttered and sang tenderly, and the peaceful deer\nfed placidly on the close grass of the glades.\n\nThis sylvan picture was disturbed rudely for him. A stag, wild and\nfurious, dashed out suddenly from amongst the trees, scattering the does\nin terrified alarm. The vicious beast eyed Will in his bright dress,\nand, lowering its head, charged at him furiously. Will nimbly sprang\naside, and having gained shelter of an oak, scrambled hurriedly into its\nbranches.\n\nThe stag turned about and dashed itself at the tree.\n\n\"Now am I right glad not to be in your path, gentle friend,\" murmured\nScarlett, trying to fix himself on the branches so that he might be able\nto draw an arrow. \"Sorry indeed would be anyone's plight who should\nencounter you in this black humor.\"\n\nScarcely had he spoken when he saw the stag suddenly startle and fix its\nglances rigidly on the bushes to the left of it. These were parted by a\ndelicate hand, and through the opening appeared the figure of a young\ngirl. She advanced, unconscious alike of Will's horrified gaze and the\nevil fury of the stag.\n\nShe saw the beast, standing as if irresolute, there, and held out her\nhand to it with a pretty gesture, making a little sound with her lips as\nif to call it to her side. \"For the love of God, dear lady----\" cried\nWill.\n\nAnd then the words died on his throat. With a savage snort of rage the\nbeast had rushed at this easy victim, and with a side blow of its\nantlers had stretched her upon the ground. It now lowered its head,\npreparing to gore her to death.\n\nAlready its cruel horns had brushed across her once. A piteous cry rang\nthrough the woods. Will set his teeth, and swung himself to the ground\nnoiselessly.\n\nThen he quickly dropped to his knee, and was aiming his shaft whilst the\nstag was making ready for a more deadly effort. Will's arrow struck it\nwith terrific force full in the center of its forehead. The stag fell\ndead across the body of the fainting maid.\n\nWill Scarlett had soon dragged the beast from off the girl, and had\npicked her up in his strong arms. He bore her swiftly to the side of one\nof the many brooks in the vale.\n\nHe dashed cool water upon her face, roughly almost, in his agony of fear\nthat she was already dead, and he could have shed tears of joy to see\nthose poor closed eyelids tremble. He redoubled his efforts; and\npresently she gave a little gasp: \"Where am I, what is't?\"\n\n\"You are here, dear maid, in the forest of Sherwood, and are safe.\"\n\nShe opened her eyes then, and sat up. \"Methinks that there was danger\nabout me, and death,\" she said, wonderingly. Then recognition shone in\nher face, and she incontinently began to bind her fallen hair and tidy\nher disordered dress. \"Is it you, indeed, Master Scarlett?\" she asked.\n\n\"Ay, 'tis I. And, thank Heaven, in time to do you a service.\" Will's\ntones were deep and full of feeling.\n\n\"I am always in your debt, Master Will,\" she said, pouting, \"and now you\nhave me at grievous disadvantage. Tell me where you have been, and why\nyou did leave cousin Richard and France?\"\n\n\"Once I had no safety there,\" replied Will, with meaning, \"neither for\nmyself nor for my heart. As for my leaving Richard's Court, why,\nfoolishly, I would be always where you are.\"\n\n\"So you have followed me, then; is that what I am to believe?\" The maid\nsmiled. \"I will confess, I did know that you were come to London, and I\nwas glad, Will, for I had not too many friends in England, nor have them\nnow, it would seem. But why was there no safety for you in London? And\nwhere have you hidden yourself of late?\"\n\n\"There is a price upon my head. I am in exile. You know me as Will\nScarlett, but in sooth my name is not so Saxon.\"\n\n\"I hate the Saxons,\" said the maid, pettishly. She had risen to her\nfeet, but still was troubled about her tumbled hair. \"I am to be married\nto one, and so have run away. That is why I am wandering in this stupid\nwood.\"\n\n\"Call it not stupid, it hath brought you to me once more,\" whispered\nWill, taking her hands; \"and so you do not love this man after all? Is\nit so? Had I but known!\"\n\n\"Didst leave London because of _that_?\" asked she, lightly. \"Ay, but men\nknow how to cozen us! I'll not believe a foolish thing, not if you were\nto tell it me a thousand times.\"\n\n\"I'll tell it to you once, sweetheart. I did leave London because I\nlearned that you were to be married to another. Life had no more to\nteach me than that one thing, and it was enough. For what was left for\nme to learn? I had loved you and loved you so well, and had loved you in\nvain.\"\n\n\"Had loved, Will? Is thy love so small, then, that it burns out like a\ncandle, within an hour? I had believed----\"\n\nBut Master Scarlett suddenly took this wilful maid to his heart. \"I do\nlove you, oh, my dear, with all my body and my life--till the end of\nends, in waking and sleeping. And so I pledge my troth.\"\n\nShe struggled out of his arms. \"I am encumbered with wild beasts at each\nstep,\" cried she, all rosy and breathless. \"One would kill me for blind\nrage, the other for love. Oh, I do not know which to fear the most.\nThere, you may kiss my hand, Will, and I will take you for my man, since\nit seems that I am to be married whether I will or no. But _you_ must\ncarry the tidings to my Saxon in York, and, beshrew me, I hope he will\nnot take it too hardly, for your sake.\"\n\n\"And yours also.\" Scarlett was holding her again.\n\n\"I like you well enough to be sorry if he should hurt you,\" said this\nteasing little Princess. She looked up at him, and then dropped her\nlashes. \"Do you _truly_ love me, Will? For truly do I love you.\"\n\nAnd so the Princess of Aragon elected to marry Geoffrey of Montfichet,\nnotwithstanding the politic choice of husband made for her by the wise\nold men in London town.\n\nThey walked on together towards Nottingham, quietly, and in deep content\nwith the world.\n\nThey encountered a stately little cavalcade near by the gates of the\ncity, and knew themselves observed ere they could hope to avoid them.\nPutting a bold face on it, the lovers stood on one side, to permit this\ncompany to pass them.\n\nAn old man, richly dressed, came first, followed at a respectful\ndistance by six horsemen.\n\nThe Princess watched them in happy indifference. Her frank glance roved\nfrom one to the other of the would-be steadfast faces before her. She\nturned her head to gaze again at the absorbed old man who led the\ncompany.\n\nThen she checked herself in a little exclamation; and hastily averted\nher face. It was too late, the old fellow had been roused from his\napathy. He reined in his grey horse, and asked over his shoulder: \"Who\nare these, Jacquelaine?\"\n\nThe esquire so addressed at once rode forward, but before he could speak\nhis master had discovered an answer for himself. He had fixed fierce\neyes upon Master Scarlett, and made a scornful gesture. \"So 'tis you,\nGeoffrey, daring death now for the sake of some country wench? Ay, but\nyou will end upon the gallows, for sure.\"\n\n\"I shall not ask you to pray at my bedside,\" retorted Scarlett,\nbitterly.\n\nThe Princess suddenly whipped round. \"Who are you, Sir Churl, to talk of\ngallows and the like to us? Hast come from a hanging thyself? There is\none a foot in Nottingham, I mind me.\"\n\nIt was now the turn of the old knight to exclaim. \"Princess, _you_?\"\ngasped he, in sheer amaze. He tumbled from his horse to the ground, and\nwith old-fashioned courtesy knelt before her. She put out her hand for\nhim to kiss.\n\n\"Rise, Master Montfichet, I pray you, 'tis not your place to kneel to\nme,\" she said, with her little Court smile.\n\nThe other horsemen had dismounted and now stood apart from the trio. The\nPrincess was the first to speak, so soon as the old Squire had risen.\n\"Master Montfichet and Will Scarlett, pray let me make you known to each\nother,\" she said, prettily. \"This is Squire George of Gamewell, a good\nfriend and honest adviser to me, although I do not always listen to him\nas I should,\" she laughed, easily. \"_This_ is Master Will Scarlett, whom\nI have known both in France and now again in England. He hath but now\nsaved me from a dreadful death.\"\n\nShe paused; then added quickly and a little nervously: \"My life is his,\nin short, Master Montfichet, and so--and so I have given it to him. We\nare to be married, and live in the greenwood. Therefore, you are not to\nspeak slightingly of Master Scarlett in my presence.\"\n\nConsternation, astonishment and gratification struggled together\nmightily in the Squire's breast. \"Geoffrey, you!\" he said again. \"But\nthis is beyond belief.\"\n\n\"Therefore believe it,\" spoke the Princess, lightly; \"for _that_ will\nshow you to be no common man.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Geoffrey, kneeling before his father, \"I pray you forgive\nboth my rash words just now and all my seeming ingratitude. I am very\nfain to be friends again with you, and I do swear to be more dutiful in\nthe years to come. Will you take my hand?\"\n\n\"Ay, freely as it is offered. God save us; but who am I to be stubborn\nof will, in the face of these miracles?\"\n\n\"Do the miracles work happiness for you, Master Montfichet?\" enquired\nthe maid, archly.\n\n\"Ay, marry. But the King will never consent to this business, be sure of\nit. _You_ marrying my son--a commoner!\"\n\n\"Your son?\" It was now the Princess's turn to be amazed. But soon the\nmatter was explained to her. \"So, Will, you have begun by deceiving me;\na bad beginning.\"\n\n\"I was trying to tell you, dear heart, when we made this encounter. Was\nI not saying that my father lived near by here? Did I not tell you that\nhe was a Norman----\"\n\n\"There, there, do not fret your dear self. I will marry you, whether you\nbe Will Scarlett or Geoffrey of Montfichet. It is yourself I need, after\nall.\"\n\n\"Take my steed and ride with us to Gamewell. There, at least, I must\nkeep thee, Princess, until the King hath given his sanction to this\nmarriage. _You_ to rule over Gamewell? In sooth I will be a joyful man\nupon that day.\"\n\n\"And I,\" murmured Master Scarlett.\n\nSo they turned back towards Gamewell, and only when they were in sight\nof it did Scarlett remember poor Little John. Then he stopped short,\nreining in the horse which one of the knights had lent to him. The\nPrincess had accepted loan of the esquire Jacquelaine's palfrey.\n\nWill soon had told them this errand which he had come so near to\nforgetting altogether. \"If this be the man they call John Little\nNailor,\" said the Princess, sorrowfully, \"why, he is in perilous plight.\nYou have but just ridden through Nottingham, I take it, Master\nMontfichet, and have some of its news?\"\n\n\"They do not seem yet to know of your adventurings, Princess.\"\n\n\"No, surely; for what is a woman, missing or to hand, when there is red\nmurder abroad? This poor fellow, whom I do believe to be innocent, was\naccused of theft by a rascally cook, and was pursued. 'Twas the night of\nour return. They chased him from pillar to post, and presently caught\nhim close to the castle. He had two bags with him.\"\n\n\"'Tis Little John, then,\" cried Scarlett; \"I saw him go out with the\nsacks across his back.\"\n\n\"In one of them they found many things that other folk had strangely\nlost,\" said the Princess, with a little grimace. \"In the other there was\nthe dead, dishonored body of a good citizen foully done to death.\"\n\nHer listeners stared in their amazement. \"It is a Master Fitzwalter who\nhath been so cruelly murdered,\" continued the Princess, her color coming\nand going. \"This Little John swears that the cook did kill his master;\nand whilst he, Little John, was resting in Fitzwalter's house this\nrascal fellow must have changed the sacks.\"\n\n\"Fitzwalter, the warden of the gates? I knew him well. Why, he left us\nbut three weeks since to travel to Nottingham. It seems that he had sent\na messenger to his girl there that she was to follow him, but either his\nletter miscarried or the maid would not. So poor Fitzwalter, busy as he\nwas, must needs return to meet his death.\"\n\n\"Who is this cook?\" asked Scarlett.\n\n\"An evil character, he hath altogether. Once he was of an outlaw robber\nband, headed here in these very woods under one Will of Cloudesley.\"\n\n\"Tell me, is he called Roger de Burgh?\" asked Will.\n\n\"That is his name,\" answered the Princess, surprised; \"do you know aught\nof him?\"\n\n\"I know much evil of him,\" replied her lover; and then he told them how\nthis very Roger had planned to take his (Will's) life, and how Robin had\nsaved him.\n\nThe Squire nodded. \"I remember,\" said he, slowly.\n\n\"Ay, Robin was always a good lad. This news of yours will stagger him,\nfor he is betrothed to Mistress Fitzwalter, daughter of him who hath so\ndreadfully met his end.\"\n\n\"The two of them were arraigned, I must tell you,\" went on the Princess,\n\"and both were to be racked. But they did not put it too hardly upon\nMaster Roger, as I have reason to know, wherefore he was able to\nmaintain his innocence; whilst the other, in his bitter anguish, made\nconfession of a crime which he did never commit.\"\n\n\"And they are hanging him whilst I stand idly here,\" cried Scarlett,\nturning to horse. \"I must leave you, sweet; forgive me. Here is a man's\nlife in the balance.\"\n\n\"What would you, Will?\" she asked, fearfully. \"The hanging is fixed for\nthe Thursday in next week.\"\n\n\"Before then he shall be free,\" said Will Scarlett, firmly. \"Farewell,\ndear heart. Wait for me here at Gamewell; my father will be good host to\nyou, I know.\"\n\n\"The maid Fitzwalter was lodging with us when I was called to London,\"\nthe Squire began.\n\n\"She is now in Nottingham, sir. It is a story which I will tell you\nlater. Now give me farewell, and your blessing.\"\n\n\"God's blessing be in you, Geoffrey, my son,\" said the Squire. It was\nthe first time for many years that he had called Geoffrey by that name.\n\n\"And take all my heart with you, Will.\" The voice of this little\nPrincess was husky; and a sob sounded in her throat. \"Be cautious, and\nreturn soon to me.\"\n\nShe watched his swift retreating figure as he sped towards Nottingham,\nthere to argue it with Master Carfax.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\n\nThe day after Scarlett's departure found Robin in frantic mood. Two\nemissaries had he sent out to gain news of Marian, and neither had\nreturned. He had had now no direct tidings of her for nigh on three\nmonths. Little John's silence, too, disturbed him.\n\nRobin determined that he would see Marian, at least, this day, or die in\nthe attempt. So, notwithstanding all that the rest could urge, their\nleader started away on foot towards the city.\n\nHe walked quickly, and his mind was so filled with dreadful thoughts\nthat he exercised little of his usual care. Emerging suddenly upon the\nhigh road, he plunged almost into the arms of his enemy, the Lord Bishop\nof Hereford.\n\nIt was too late for Robin to retreat, and he was too far away for him to\nwind his horn in the hope of rousing his men. The Bishop rode at the\nhead of a goodly company and had already espied him.\n\nAbout a mile away, near by the roadside, was a little tumble-down\ncottage. Robin remembered it and saw his only chance of safety. At once\nhe doubled back through the underwood, much to the surprise of the\nBishop, who thought he had truly disappeared by magic. In a few minutes\nRobin had come to the little cottage. The owner of the place, a little\ncrabbed old woman, rose up with a cry of alarm.\n\n\"'Tis I, Robin Hood; where are your three sons?\"\n\n\"They are with you, Robin. Well do you know that. Do they not owe life\nto you?\"\n\n\"Help now repay the debt,\" said Robin, in a breath. \"The Bishop will\nsoon be without, and he has many men.\"\n\n\"I will save you, Robin,\" cried the old woman, bustlingly. \"We will\nchange raiment, and you shall go forth as the poor lone woman of this\ncot. Go without and strip yourself speedily; and throw me your clothes\nthrough the doorway.\"\n\nRobin was in the garden and had slipped out of his Lincoln green in a\nmoment. He clad himself with equal celerity in the old woman's rags, as\nshe flung them out to him one by one.\n\nThe Bishop perceived an old decrepit woman hobbling across the road, as\nhe with his company came hastening down it. He bade one of his fellows\nto stay her, and ask if she had seen such and such a man. The soldier\ngave her a full and vivid description of Robin Hood. The old woman, thus\nrudely prevented from gathering her sticks--already she had a little\nhandful of them--answered that there _was_ a man within her cottage; and\nthat she would be right glad if my lord Bishop would cause him to be\ndriven out of it. \"In sooth, my good gentlemen, he is none other than\nthat vagabond Robin Hood,\" piped she.\n\n\"Enough!\" cried the Bishop, triumphantly. \"Enter the cottage, men; beat\ndown the door, if need be. A purse of gold pieces is already offered for\nthe capture of Robin Hood, and I will give a hundred beside!\"\n\nThe old woman was released, and went on gathering twigs for her fire.\nLittle by little she edged towards the forest, and while the Bishop's\nmen were beating down her cottage door she vanished between the trees.\n\nThen she began to run, with surprising quickness, towards Barnesdale.\n\nStuteley encountered her presently, and was at first prepared to treat\nher in rough fashion. \"Hold your hand, sweet Will,\" cried Robin, \"it is\nI, your master. Summon our fellows, and return with me speedily. My lord\nof Hereford is come again to Sherwood.\"\n\nWhen Will had done laughing he blew his horn. \"Why, mistress,\" said he,\nturning his grinning face to Robin as though seized with a notion, \"is\nnot this the day when the knight Sir Richard of the Lee--he to whom you\ngave Arthur-\u00e0-Bland--swore he would return to pay us our moneys?\"\n\n\"'Tis near the time, in sooth,\" admitted Robin.\n\n\"Then surely he hath sent the Bishop to us, not being able to come\nhimself?\" argued Will. \"We will see if the Bishop is carrying four\nhundred gold pennies with him. If it be so, then I am right, indeed.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Bishop, for all his bold words, had not yet nerved himself to give\nthe necessary command of death against the person of Robin Hood. Since\nhe would not come out of the cottage, the door must be beaten down.\n\nWhen this had been done the Bishop's men had peeped in. \"He is here,\nhiding,\" they cried, exultingly. \"Shall we slay him with our pikes?\"\n\n\"Nay, keep watch upon and guard this cottage against all comers. Go, one\nof you, to Nottingham, with all speed, and bring the Sheriff to us,\nwith many men. Say that I bid him here to settle matters with Robin\nHood.\"\n\nThe good Bishop of Hereford did not intend to give this villain a single\nchance. Were he brought out into the open, he might, by some magic,\ncontrive an escape. Lying in this hut under the pikes of the Bishop's\nmen he was safe, and if the worst came to the worst might readily be\nslain.\n\nThe messenger detached from his escort had not carried the Bishop's\nmessage to the Sheriff very far ere his master would have wished to\nchange it. In a moment, whilst my lord of Hereford was complacently\ngloating over his capture--whilst indeed he was himself peering into the\ndark cottage in order to catechise his prisoner--there appeared on the\nhigh road the shabby figure of that very old woman who had innocently\nhelped to set the trap.\n\nShe called out in a strident voice to the soldiers about her dwelling.\n\"Stand by, lazy rascals,\" cried she, \"stand away from my gates. What are\nyou doing on my ground?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" answered the Bishop, turning round to her, \"these are my men,\nand I have given them the order to guard this cottage.\"\n\n\"God-a-mercy!\" swore the beldame, harshly. \"Things have come to a pass\nin sooth when our homes may be treated like common jails. Take away this\nrobber and your fellows from my house on the instant, or I will curse\nyou all in eating and drinking and sleeping.\"\n\n\"Not so fast, mother,\" argued the Bishop, smiling easily at her\nsimulated rage. \"All this has been done by my orders, and is therefore\nin law.\"\n\nThe old woman clapped her hands impatiently. At the signal the greenwood\nmen sprang out on all sides of the cottage. The Bishop saw himself and\nhis men-at-arms trapped; but he determined to make a fight for it. \"If\none of you but stir an inch towards me, rascals,\" he cried, spitefully,\n\"it shall be to sound the death of your master Robin Hood. My men have\nhim here under their pikes, and I will command them to kill him\nforthwith. Further, he shall be killed an you do not at once disperse.\"\n\nThen Robin stepped out before his men. He flung off the old crone's cap\nwhich he had worn so cleverly. \"Come, kill me, then, lord,\" he called,\ncheerfully. \"Here am I, waiting for your pikes and their pokes. Hasten\nto make sure business of it, for I am in no gentle humor.\"\n\nThe old woman, who, in the garb of Robin Hood, had been lying silent and\nstill so long within the cottage, jumped up then quite nimbly. In all\nthe bald absurdity of her disguise she came to the door of the cottage\nand looked forth. \"Give you good-den, my lord Bishop,\" piped she; \"and\nwhat make _you_ at so humble a door as this? Do you come to bless me and\ngive me alms?\"\n\n\"Ay, marry, that does he!\" said Stuteley, coming forward. \"To you,\nmother, and to us also. You must know that my lord bears with him a bag\nof four hundred pieces from Sir Richard of the Lee, who did borrow this\nmoney from us to lend it to my lord.\"\n\n\"Now, by all the saints----\" began the Bishop.\n\n\"They are watching you, brother,\" said Stuteley, impudently, \"so be wary\nin your speech. Give into my hand the four hundred pieces which you\ntook from the knight I have named. You cannot deny that you _did_ take\nthem from him in the June of last year?\"\n\n\"The knight owed them to me, villain,\" said the Bishop, furiously. He\nsaw that his men were outnumbered, and that all the outlaws had drawn\nbows aimed against them and him. A word not to the liking of these\ndesperate fellows would loosen fifty horrid shafts upon him. \"Sir\nRichard did owe them to me,\" he repeated, omitting the epithet.\n\n\"Hark now to that!\" said Robin, still in his disguise. \"Listen to it,\nfriends, for ye all were witnesses that Sir Richard swore to me that the\nBishop had robbed him, and sought to rob him more. Did not you, in\nhonest truth, lend the knight four hundred pieces, my lord?\"\n\n\"I did not lend him that precise amount,\" admitted the Bishop. \"Four\nhundred pieces included also the interest of the sum I gave.\"\n\n\"Ho! you gave?\" Robin snapped up the word. \"You gave it, my lord?\"\n\n\"I will not bandy words with you, you false villain,\" shouted the\nBishop, suddenly losing control of himself. \"Why do you not charge them,\nmen? Take the word from me, and hew these fellows down as they stand.\"\n\n\"They will be well advised to remain as they are,\" spoke Robin. \"See now\nhow we command you all!\" He took a bow and arrow out of Much's hands,\nand sped a shaft so truly towards the purpling Bishop that his mitred\ncap was sent spinning from off his bald head.\n\nMy lord turned green and yellow. He had thought himself dead almost.\n\"Take my money, rascals,\" he quavered, feebly; and Stuteley approached\nhim, cap in hand.\n\n\"Tied to the saddle of my palfrey you will find my all,\" murmured the\nBishop, sighing deeply.\n\nStuteley took a well-filled bag from under my lord's empty saddle. He\nspread his cloak upon the road and counted out four hundred pieces into\nit. \"The interest, master?\" asked Will, twinkling to Robin.\n\n\"Pay that to this old woman who hath befriended and saved me; and give\nher, further, two hundred of the pieces on thy cloak,\" commanded Robin.\n\"We will share with her, even as she hath already shared with me this\nday.\"\n\nThe outlaws then withdrew, taking with them the old woman and the\nBishop's gold. They left him in no great humor; but forebore to provoke\nhim further.\n\nThis adventure had, however, banished all hope of Robin making his\nprojected journey into Nottingham. He had perforce to return to the\ncaves at Barnesdale, to get changed again into a more befitting dress.\nThe day was old when he was ready to go out once more; and at Stuteley's\nentreaty Robin consented to wait until the morning.\n\nThe Bishop lost no time in making Nottingham. He and his men were so\nashamed of having been overcome so easily by the greenwood men that they\nhad perforce to magnify Robin's band and its prowess twenty-fold.\n\nAmongst the many knights who had followed, hopelessly, in the Princess's\ntrain was one whose attentions had ever been very noxious to her. This\nwas a coarse, over-fed, over-confident Norman, brutally skilful in the\ngames at tourneys and ruthless in battles _\u00e0 outrance_. His name was\nGuy of Gisborne, and he hailed from the borders of Lancashire. To him\nhad fallen the rich fat acres of Broadweald, that place for which poor\nHugh Fitzooth had wrestled vainly for so long.\n\nHe had persecuted her unavailingly--'twas through a scene with him that\nScarlett had come so much into the maid's favor. Sir Guy had followed\nher to Nottingham, meaning to steal her from the Sheriff at first\nchance. \"No Saxon churl shall hope to carry off this prize from me,\"\nthought Sir Guy. \"Her beauty pleaseth me, and her fortune will help mine\nown. Therefore, I will follow her meekly until we come nearer to my own\nland. Then, perhaps, one night pompous Monceux may find her flown. He\nwill be blamed; and none need know whither the little bird has gone and\nby whom she hath been trapped.\"\n\nSir Guy of Gisborne found another in the field with him; the Princess\nhad not waited for him to steal her. The little bird had flown ere Sir\nGuy's trap had been set.\n\nSo the Bishop of Hereford found both the Sheriff and Sir Guy in evil\nhumor. My lord told his story, raging against Robin; the Sheriff had his\ncomplaint--directed against the Princess in general and no man in\nparticular.\n\n\"Depend on it, Monceux, this rascal hath stolen away your charge,\" said\nthe Bishop, in order to stir the Sheriff to greater lengths against\nRobin. \"How can you sit here so idly, first losing your gold plate to\nhim and then your gold? Now, with one blow goeth this Princess who was\nmost solemnly committed to your charge, and with her your good name.\nFor, without doubt, this matter will cost you your office.\"\n\nMonceux was overcome with terror; his eyes started out from his head. \"I\ndid hear them speak of some girl betwixt themselves, now that I think on\nit,\" continued the Bishop, artfully, noting the effect he had made.\n\"'This woman shall share with us'--ay, those were Robin's very words.\nThe Princess hath been stolen by him.\"\n\n\"She last was seen walking towards the woods, 'tis true,\" murmured the\nunhappy Sheriff. \"But, truly, I am not to blame in this plaguey\nbusiness.\"\n\n\"I will encounter the villain for you, Sheriff,\" said Sir Guy, with a\ncunning glance. \"And if I do rid you of him, will you swear to stand by\nme in another matter?\"\n\n\"Surely, surely.\"\n\n\"Your word on it, then--here in my lord's holy presence,\" Sir Guy went\non. \"This girl hath been told by a council of wiseacres that she must\nmarry some Saxon noble. But her heart is given to another--to myself, in\nshort. Swear that you both will help me to win her, and I will take her\nfrom your merry Robin and kill him afterward.\"\n\nThey both promised readily that they would do all that he could ask--if\nonly he would kill Robin Hood outright. The Bishop had great influence\nat Court, and Sir Guy intended that he should smooth matters for him\nafter the abduction of the Princess. The Sheriff was to hold fast to any\nstory that might be necessary, and to swear to the little Princess that\nSir Guy of Gisborne was the very Saxon whom she had been ordered to\nmarry.\n\n\"All this is settled between us,\" observed the knight, comfortably.\n\"Give me a number of men, all of them good archers, and put them at my\nsole command. I will go forth to-morrow in a disguise such as will\ndeceive even your wonderful Robin.\"\n\n\"We will hold over the hanging and flaying of the other rascal until his\nmaster can dance beside him,\" cried the Sheriff, conceiving Robin to be\nalready caught.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\n\nRobin started out early in the day towards the city. This time nothing\nshould stay him from entering it--and finding Marian. The demoiselle\nMarie's plan would surely have succeeded on this day, for Robin was\ncareless of all things but the hope of seeing his dear.\n\nSir Guy of Gisborne was there, however, as Robin's good angel, as we are\nto see, although Sir Guy had, in truth, no very merciful feelings\ntowards the outlaw.\n\nRobin perceived upon the highroad a very strange figure coming towards\nhim. It seemed to be a three-legged monster at first sight, but on\ncoming nearer one might see that 'twas really a poorly clad man, who for\na freak had covered up his rags with a capul-hide, nothing more nor less\nthan the sun-dried skin of a horse, complete with head and tail and\nmane.\n\nThe skin of the horse's head made a helmet for the man; and the tail\ngave him the three-legged appearance.\n\n\"Good morrow, gossip,\" said Robin, cheerily; \"by my bow and by my\narrows, I could believe you to be a good archer--you have the shape of\none.\"\n\nThe man took no offence at this greeting, but told Robin that he had\nlost his way and was anxious to find it again.\n\n\"By my faith, I could have believed that you had lost your wits,\"\nthought Robin, laughing quietly to himself. \"What is your business,\nfriend?\" he asked, aloud; \"you are dressed in strange clothes and yet\nseem by your speech to be of gentle blood.\"\n\n\"And who are you, forester, to ask me who I am?\"\n\n\"I am one of the King's rangers,\" replied Robin; \"and 'tis my part to\nlook after the King's deer and save them from the wicked arrows of Robin\nHood.\"\n\n\"Do you know Robin Hood?\" asked the man, shrewdly eyeing him.\n\n\"That do I; and last night I heard that he would be coming alone in a\ncertain part of this wood to meet a maid.\"\n\n\"Is that so indeed?\" cried the man, eagerly.\n\n\"'Tis very truth,\" answered Robin. \"And I, knowing this, am going to\ntake him, and carry off both the girl and the reward upon his head.\"\n\n\"Tell me, friend, is this girl a little creature, royal looking and very\nbeautiful?\"\n\n\"Marry, she appeared to me a very Princess,\" cried Robin, with\nenthusiasm.\n\n\"We are well met,\" remarked the yeoman, presently, and speaking as if\ncome to a decision. \"Now I will tell you, friend, that I am in search of\nRobin Hood myself, and will help you to take him. I am Sir Guy of\nGisborne, and can make your fortune for you.\"\n\n\"And I am Robin Hood, so, prithee, make it quickly for me!\" cried Robin,\nimprudently.\n\nSir Guy was not taken so much aback as Robin had hoped. Quickly he drew\nhis sword from underneath the capul-hide, and he smote at Robin full and\nfoul.\n\nRobin parried the thrust with his own true blade, and soon they were at\na fierce contest. They fought by the wayside for a long while in a\ndeadly anger, only the sharp clashing of their blades breaking the\nsilence.\n\nThen Robin stumbled over the projecting root of a tree; and Sir Guy, who\nwas quick and heavy with his weapon, wounded Robin in his side.\n\nThe outlaw recovered himself adroitly; and, full of sudden rage, stabbed\nat the knight under and across his guard. The capul-hide hindered Sir\nGuy in his attempt at a parry--the horse head fell across his eyes.\n\nNext instant Sir Guy of Gisborne went staggering backward with a deep\ngroan, Robin's sword through his throat.\n\n\"You did bring this upon yourself,\" muttered Robin, eyeing the body of\nthe knight in vain regret. \"Yet you did fall bravely, and in fair fight.\nYou shall be buried honorably.\"\n\nHe dragged the body into the bushes; and, having taken off the horse\nhide, slipped it upon himself. He then perceived that, hanging from the\ndead man's belt, there was a little silver whistle. \"What may this be?\"\nthought Robin.\n\nSir Guy, clothed in old and ragged dress, looked to be a plain yeoman,\nslain in defence of his life, or mayhap a forester. Pulling the hide\nwell over himself Robin put the little whistle to his lips and blew it\nshrilly.\n\nInstantly, far off to the right of him, sounded an answering note, and\nagain from behind him there was reply. In about four or five minutes\ntwenty of the Sheriff's best archers came running through the wood to\nRobin's side.\n\n\"Didst signal for us, lording?\" asked the leader of them, approaching\nRobin.\n\n\"Ay, see him! I have encountered and slain one of your robber fellows\nfor ye,\" answered Robin, simulating Sir Guy's voice and manner. \"I would\nhave you take up his body upon your shoulders and bear him along this\nlittle path, wherefrom he sprang upon me.\"\n\nThe archers obeyed him immediately, \"Do you follow us, lording?\" they\nasked.\n\n\"I will lead ye,\" cried Robin, waving his red sword truculently, \"Follow\nme speedily.\"\n\nThus he led them after him through the secret paths into Barnesdale, and\nthere blew his horn so suddenly that Stuteley and his fellows were upon\nthe Sheriff's men ere they might drop Sir Guy's dead body to the earth.\n\nRobin bade his men disarm the archers, and tie such of them as would not\nprove amenable.\n\nThus the Sheriff was robbed of his best archers; for these fellows,\nfinding the greenwood men to be of such friendly mind, soon joined in\nwith them.\n\n\"This is well done, in sooth,\" said Robin, gently, to himself. \"A good\nday's work; and Monceux will have cause to regret his share in it. Yet\nam I no nearer Nottingham after all, tho' I have twice sworn that naught\nshould stay me. Stuteley,\" added he, aloud, calling his squire to his\nside, \"see you that this dead knight be buried with all respect; he\nfought me well and fairly.\"\n\n\"It shall be done, master,\" answered Will Stuteley; \"you may be easy\nabout it. But I would have you listen to the talk of these archers--they\nhave grave news of our comrade Little John. It seems that the Sheriff\nhath seized him for the killing of thy maid's father, and will\npresently have him dreadfully hanged and burned.\"\n\nRobin uttered an exclamation of horror. Soon the terrible story was told\nhim, and his brain reeled under the shock of it. All that night he paced\nthe woods until the dawn, then fell incontinently into a deep and heavy\nslumber.\n\n\"Disturb him not nor let him take action until I do return,\" said the\ncomfortable Friar Tuck, in business-like manner. \"I know how his\ndistemper will play upon him, and how he will bring us all to grief if\nhe attempts the city again. Now I may go in and out as I will, being a\ncurtal friar and not now remembered in these parts. I will visit the\nSheriff and ask for leave to confess Master Little John. Then I will\ncome back to you with the best news I may.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nGeoffrey of Montfichet had ridden into Nottingham on the day before Sir\nGuy had left it. Carfax had known where the Princess might be found all\nthe while his master, with the Bishop, was busy persuading the Knight of\nGisborne that the maid was with Robin. One might be sure, however, that\nneither Monceux nor Carfax gave out any hint of this knowledge, for to\ndo that would have stayed Sir Guy in his praiseworthy attempt upon the\nbold outlaw.\n\nGeoffrey--Master Scarlett--had found difficult work before him, but he\nintended to save Little John. He was convinced that the cook had slain\nFitzwalter, most likely at the command of some other person interested\nin the death.\n\nWho might this be? Who had profited by the death of so unassuming a man\nas the late city warden?\n\nCarfax treated Scarlett with scant ceremony. The lean-faced fellow\ndevoured the item that the Princess of Aragon was safe at Gamewell, but\ngave nothing in return. Scarlett had been left to cool his heels in the\ngreat hall of Nottingham Castle for near an hour afterward, whilst\nSimeon Carfax was closeted with the Sheriff.\n\nThey were having a tidying of the rooms in honor of the Bishop's visit.\nWhilst Scarlett impatiently waited the good pleasure of Master Carfax\nthe maids were busy carrying many things to and fro; fresh rushes to\nstrew my lord's rooms, candles and tapers, silks and cloths, and brown\newers of water. All the rubbish and sweepings of the floors were borne\nout in great baskets to the courtyard.\n\nOne of the maids, a plump, roguish, lazy wench, would only carry her\nbasket so far as the hearth of the hall. A fire was there, why not use\nit? Also she could ogle and throw sidelong looks at Master Scarlett,\nwho, for his beard and thirty-five grave years, was none so bad a man.\n\nThis girl was throwing into the open hearth a lot of ends of silk and\ncombings from her mistress's room. She tossed the rubbish on the fire,\nat the same time eyeing Master Scarlett. Then, finding that he would not\nnotice her, she poutingly returned with her basket upon a fresh journey.\n\nScarlett came over to the fire to pick up some of the burning scraps.\nThey were drifting over the hearth into the room dangerously, thanks to\nthe maid's carelessness.\n\nHe found in his hand a half-burned piece of parchment, which still\nfizzled and crackled in quaint malicious fashion.\n\nUpon the parchment was an awkward writing, and some of the words showed\nup very black under the heat. Half idly, Scarlett tried to make sense of\nthem:\n\n\"This ... dear child Marian, ... her affectionate father ... Court of\n... in London town.\"\n\nSo far did Master Scarlett read before suddenly the beginnings of the\ntruth flashed upon him. This was the very letter which he had borne to\nMarian.\n\nHow had it come into the castle? By what strange magic? Could Marian\nhave carried it here herself?\n\nHe remembered that she had given it to Robin, and that he had put it\ninto his bosom.\n\n\"Mistress, you seem indeed to be very busy this day,\" said Master\nScarlett, affably, to the girl next time she appeared. \"Do you prepare\nme a chamber, for it seems that I am to wait here for a week at least.\"\n\n\"I am tidying my mistress's room, and have had hard work I promise you,\"\nreplied the girl, impudently. \"Mayhap you will give me a help whilst you\nwait, Sir Taciturn? This is the fifth basket of rubbish I have borne\nfrom the demoiselle Marie's little cupboard.\"\n\n\"I will readily help you if you will help me,\" said Scarlett,\npleasantly. \"Canst tell me who wrote this little paper? The writing\nseemeth familiar to mine eyes.\"\n\n\"'Tis a piece of my lady's jesting,\" said the girl, after a glance at\nthe parchment. \"'Twas written in imitation of Master Fitzwalter's hand\nafter we had searched his house last year. Ah, poor man, who would have\nthen imagined so hard a fate for him?\" She sighed prodigiously, and\nrolled her eyes.\n\n\"Tell me the story of this murder, mistress, I pray you.\"\n\nShe was not loth to fall a-chattering, and she told Scarlett all she\nknew of it. From the rambling history he discovered another strange\nfact, that Roger de Burgh had been cook in the Sheriff's household\nbefore he had gone to the Fitzwalter house. Slowly he began to see that\nthe letter he had so blithely put into Marian's hand was a forgery, done\nby the clever fingers of the demoiselle Marie.\n\n\"So,\" thought he, swiftly, \"Mistress Fitzwalter was persuaded to return\nto this place in order that Robin Hood might visit her secretly. The\nhouse was watched by a spy from the Sheriff's own kitchen. Soon as Robin\ncame, this spy was to give warning; or, if matters pressed, kill him.\nBut after many months of waiting, _Fitzwalter_ came instead.\"\n\nHis quick mind, used to the intrigues and plots of a capricious Court,\nhad unravelled the mystery. Yet how could he act upon this knowledge in\nthe midst of the enemy's camp? If the Sheriff could stoop already to\nsuch foul business as this, to what further lengths would he not go?\nDismissing himself through the girl, Scarlett strode out of the castle.\nThe air seemed fresher and more wholesome without. He enquired and found\nhis way to the house of grief, and there asked audience with its little\nheart-broken mistress.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhilst Scarlett was plotting and inventing a hundred schemes to save\nLittle John, a poor wandering priest appeared one evening before the\ngates of Nottingham Castle. Most humbly he begged a little bread and a\ndrink of water; and, having received these, he blessed the place and all\nwithin it.\n\n\"You should not bless _all_ within this castle, Sir Priest,\" the\nSheriff told him. Monceux had pompously administered to the man's simple\nwants with his own hands. \"There is a villain in our cells who hath done\nwicked murder.\"\n\nThe ragged friar asked who that might be; and when he had heard, said\nthat at the least he would confess this poor misguided fellow and so\ndeliver his soul from everlasting punishment.\n\nThe Sheriff was rather doubtful, but seeing that the priest had no\nweapon upon him, he gave a sign that he should be admitted to Little\nJohn's cell.\n\nThere the friar found the big outlaw very dejected. \"Give you good\ncheer, brother,\" said the friar, gently; \"I have come to pray with you.\"\n\n\"What assistance can your prayers be to me?\" asked Little John, sharply;\n\"I am to be hanged to-morrow morn, and all your prayers will scarce\nalter that.\"\n\n\"Anger is a great sin,\" replied the priest.\n\n\"I have no sins against God,\" said Little John; \"I have always\nendeavored to live easily and justly.\" Then the friar came up close to\nhim, and whispered something in his ear. The outlaw's expression altered\nat once. \"By the Sheriff's rope,\" muttered he, quite in his old manner,\n\"but I swear that if thou canst get me a weapon----\"\n\n\"Here is a little dagger,\" said Friar Tuck, pulling it out from under\nhis gown. \"'Tis small, but to-morrow it may be of use. I can do no more\nnow; but be ready for us to-morrow, when the last moments are come.\nRobin Hood will not easily let you die, be sure of it.\"\n\nThe friar, after he had left the prison, ran all the way to Barnesdale,\nunder the stars.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\n\nIt was hardly dawn when a strong guard of soldiers was drawn up without\nNottingham Castle, and the prisoner was dragged forth from his cell.\nMonceux had wisely come to the conclusion that Sir Guy of Gisborne had\nalso failed, and he saw no reason to delay Little John's execution.\n\nEarly as was the hour, yet both the Sheriff and the Bishop of Hereford\nwere present. The space before the castle was thronged with people.\nBeside the prisoner walked the castle chaplain.\n\nThe crowd swayed and roared, and a small disturbance broke out on the\nright of the Sheriff. At once the soldiers hurried to quell it.\n\nAs the prisoner neared the gallows, the crowd so bore upon the cart in\nwhich he stood upright that progress for a few minutes was out of all\nquestion.\n\nAnother disturbance broke out in the rear of the procession. Next\ninstant the prisoner was seen to have free hands. He stooped and sliced\nthe cords about his feet, and, releasing himself, all at once he sprang\nout of the cart.\n\nThen was an uproar indeed. The soldiers had strict orders that the\nepisode of Stuteley's escape was not to be repeated. But whilst they\nexerted themselves desperately a sudden hail of arrows fell upon them\nfrom the sky, as it were. Robin Hood's horn was heard blowing merrily,\nand the Sheriff saw the huge mob of people break up into billows of\ncontending portions under his very eyes.\n\n\"Lock the gates of the city,\" screamed Carfax, at this juncture. \"We\nhave them trapped at last.\"\n\nLittle John was free and had seized an axe. Much and Middle had brought\nbags of meal with them, and both repeated the miller's old trick of\nflinging the white meal into the eyes of the enemy.\n\nRobin had broken up his band into small parties, and all were engaged\nsimultaneously.\n\nIn less time than it takes to tell, the space without the castle was\nturned to pandemonium.\n\nAgain and again Robin's horn sounded, calling them together, and slowly\nbut surely his small parties formed up into a whole, beating their way\nthrough the crowd with their swords and axes. So soon as they were\ntogether, with Little John safely in the middle of them, they fell to\ntheir bows and sped a cloud of arrows amongst the Sheriff's men.\n\nThen they turned to retreat, and fell back so suddenly that they had\nmade good start ere Monceux had divined their intent. They sped towards\nthe north gate, that one being nearest to Barnesdale.\n\nCrafty Carfax had forestalled them, however. The north gate was closed\nhard and fast, and the bridge drawn.\n\nThe outlaws doubled on their track and charged at their pursuers with\nlowered pikes and waving axes. The crowd before them yielded sullenly\nand allowed them passage.\n\n\"To the west gate, Robin, hasten,\" cried a shrill voice. \"'Tis more\neasily opened than the rest, and the bridge is down--someone hath\nsmashed the winch.\"\n\nRobin's heart leaped in his body--'twas the voice of Gilbert of Blois!\n\"Marian,\" breathed he, overcome with terror for her, \"oh, my dearest!\"\n\n\"Follow, follow!\" she cried, with flashing eyes; \"there is not a moment\nto be lost.\"\n\nRobin saw that it was a matter of life or death now in any case. \"To the\nwest gate!\" he called, \"Locksley! a Locksley!\"\n\nIt was the old battle cry, and only a few of them remembered it. Yet it\nserved and served well. The greenwood men formed up into close ranks,\nand all followed the little page, shouting lustily, \"Locksley! a\nLocksley!\"\n\nIn the rush and hurry Robin saw that Scarlett was there, and Warrenton\nand Allan-a-Dale. And with the little page ran another, a fair-haired\nboy, with strangely familiar face.\n\n\"'Tis Fennel,\" whispered Allan, at Robin's side. \"She would not be\nleft.\"\n\nHe spoke as they ran, with the enemy now in full pursuit of them. Every\nnow and again the outlaws turned and sped a hail of arrows into the mob\nbehind them.\n\nThe west bridge was gained, and Scarlett had dispossessed the warder of\nhis keys in a moment. He unlocked the gates and flung them wide open.\n\nThe two boys--for so they seemed--raced through and over the broken\nbridge, and Allan followed next. The outlaws were soon free of the town,\nand once more in their own element, but Little John must needs go back\nto cover the retreat with Stuteley.\n\nCarfax and the Sheriff were close at hand with their men, furious and\ndetermined. Even as the last of Robin's men gained and fell over the\nbridge, Little John was wounded seriously by a shaft from Simeon\nCarfax's bow.\n\nHis cry brought Robin back to his side. In a moment Robin's arms were\nabout him. \"Lean on my shoulder, dear heart,\" cried Robin, and sure\n'twas a ludicrous sight to see this stripling seeking to hold up the\ngreat form of Little John.\n\nThey ran along in this way, and the outlaws formed a bodyguard about\nthem. Allan and those in front had fired the dry furze and grasses, and\nthe smoke began to roll heavily against the faces of the soldiers.\n\nThis gave the greenwood men a small advantage, and they gained the open\ncountry; but not for long did the honors of this day rest on one side or\nthe other. The Sheriff and his fellows broke through the fire; and then\nit was seen that some of them were mounted on fleet horses.\n\nLittle John begged to be left behind; and again did Robin try to rally\nhim. Onward they ran; and presently found themselves approaching a hill,\nthickly wooded about the base.\n\nThey gained cover of these trees, and turned at bay. Hidden behind\ntree-trunks they sent forth a death volume of peacock-shafts to the\nSheriff. Master Carfax was seen to fall, and with him six of the\nhorsemen.\n\nThe soldiers halted and prepared their crossbows. A volley of their\narrows crashed and splintered the trees, whilst Carfax rose up stiffly\nto give fresh orders. A duello commenced of longbow against crossbow;\nand as the freebooters could deliver near a dozen shafts to each bolt,\nthey more than held their own.\n\nWhen a bolt _did_ strike, however, death was instant. A man was shot\nnear to Marian, and fell with his head shattered and ghastly. She gave a\nlittle scream, and put her hands over her eyes.\n\nRobin bade her keep near to him--\"Behind me, sweetheart,\" cried he,\nfeverishly, \"that naught may hurt you save through me.\"\n\nSo they fought for near an hour; and then the greenwood men saw that\nreinforcements were coming to their enemies. Robin's horn gave once more\nthe order for retreat.\n\nSlowly they fell back through the woods and up the rising ground. \"Alas,\nalas!\" cried poor Mistress Fennel, wringing her hands in utter\nforgetfulness that now she was dressed as a man. \"We are undone! Here\ncome others to meet us, with pikes and many men!\"\n\nRobin saw that upon the hill-top there was a grey castle. From its open\ngate there poured out a motley crowd of men armed rudely with pikes and\nwith staves. They rushed downward to intercept the outlaws as it seemed,\nand Robin thought that, in truth, he and his merry men were trapped at\nlast.\n\nBut--oh, joyful sight!--foremost among those coming from the castle was\nthe once mournful knight Sir Richard of the Lee. He was smiling now and\nvery excited. \"A Hood! a Hood!\" he cried. \"To the rescue. A Hood!\"\n\nNever was there more welcome sight and hearing than this. Without a word\nthe outlaws raced up to meet their timely friends, and gained shelter of\nthe castle, whilst Sir Richard kept the Sheriff and his fellows at bay.\nThen, when all were safely across the little drawbridge, the knight gave\nthe word, and fell back upon his stronghold also. The bridge was drawn\nand the gates clashed together, almost in the frantic, hideous face of\nMaster Simeon, upon whose features showed streaks of blood from his\nwound and rage commingled.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe knight stationed his men about the walls. Soon appeared Monceux\nbeneath them alone, and demanding speech. He commanded the knight to\ndeliver up Robin and his men upon pain of assault and burning of the\ncastle with fire.\n\nSir Richard replied briefly. \"Show me your warrant, Sir Malapert, and I\nwill consider it,\" he said, from within the gates. And Master Monceux\nhad no warrant with him.\n\n\"My word is enough for you, Richard of the Lee,\" roared he, furiously.\n\"Am I not Sheriff of Nottingham?\"\n\n\"You cannot be the Sheriff of Nottingham, good man,\" answered the\nknight, getting ready to close the wicket, \"for he is Master Monceux,\nand is busy escorting the Princess of Aragon towards York. Go to and\nmend your manners, rascal, and call away these ruffians with you.\"\n\nThen Sir Richard snapped to the wicket gate, and returned to Robin.\n\"Well met, bold Robin,\" he cried, taking him by both hands. \"Well met,\nindeed. I had intended to ride forth this very day to your home in the\nwoods, to pay you your moneys with my thanks added thereto; but you have\nhappily saved me and mine the journey. Welcome to my castle, recovered\nto me by your generosity.\"\n\n[Illustration: LITTLE JOHN SINGS A SONG AT THE BANQUET\n\n_That evening, whilst Monceux raged and stormed without, they all sat to\na great feast._\n\n[** \"D.McK.\" (the illustrator?), below and to the left of the\nillustration, is probably a part of the illustration. The c is\nunderlined and superscripted. The period after the K is not evident.]]\n\n\nSir Richard presented his wife to Robin, and his son, who had but just\nreturned from the Holy Land. The knight told him how the last few months\nhad been most prosperous with him, instead of going so badly as he had\nfeared; and explained that now, from one source and another, he was\nas rich as of yore. \"So when we have feasted I will take you to my\ntreasury, and there count you out thy money and its interest faithfully.\nYet in ridding myself of this debt I do not free my life of the\nobligation.\"\n\n\"You need say no more, Sir Richard,\" interposed Robin. \"'Tis we who owe\n_all_ to you. As for your debt, why, it hath been repaid me already by\nmy lord of Hereford. Is it not so, Stuteley?\"\n\nThe little esquire protested solemnly that the Bishop had paid it to\nthem as conscience-money. \"Then I will pay it again,\" cried the knight,\ncheerfully, \"sooner than be outdone by a Bishop in the matter of\nhonesty; and I have a few presents for you, but these I will show you\nlater.\"\n\nRobin thanked him gratefully, and, taking him on one side, told how\nboy's clothes were covering Mistress Marian and Dame Fennel at this\ninstant. Would the knight's wife take charge of them, and find them some\napparel as would ease one of them at least from most uneasy feelings?\n\nThat evening, whilst Monceux raged and stormed without, they all sat to\na great feast. Little John was already so much recovered of his wound as\nto sing them a song, whilst Robin made sweet accompaniment upon a harp.\n\nThe knight showed Robin presently his treasury, and again implored him\nto take the four hundred pieces of gold, if he would take no interest.\nBut his guest was firm: \"Keep the money, for it is your own. I have but\nmade the Bishop return to you that which he had first stolen from your\nhands.\"\n\nSir Richard again expressed his thanks, and now led them to his armory.\nTherein Robin saw, placed apart, a hundred strong bows with fine waxen\nsilk strings, and a hundred sheaves of arrows. Every shaft was an ell\nlong, and dressed with peacock's feathers and notched with silver.\nBeside them were a hundred suits of red and white livery, finely made\nand stitched. \"These are the poor presents we have made for you, Robin,\"\nsaid Sir Richard. \"Take them from us, with ten thousand times their\nweight in gratitude.\"\n\nOne of the knight's own men came forward to give a sheaf of the arrows\ninto Robin's hand, and, behold, it was Arthur-\u00e0-Bland!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\n\nA searching rain continued all that night. They well expected to find\nthe Sheriff and his army encamped against them on the morrow.\n\nStrangely enough, the morning showed the countryside quiet and peaceful\nas of old. Monceux and his fellows, if there, were well hid\nindeed--nothing might be seen of them.\n\nFrom the castle battlements, afar off, mysterious under grey opaque\nmorning, lay Nottingham. The old town seemed to be yet asleep; but there\nwas plenty of movement within its gates for all that. A messenger had\ncome out hastily to Monceux, even while he and Carfax had been\nperfecting details of the siege which they intended to apply to the\nknight's castle. This man brought the Sheriff news of such moment as to\ncause him to give up the hope of catching Robin without another effort.\nMy lord of Hereford had had the news from York--he had sped it to\nMonceux: \"The King is abroad; take care of thyself.\"\n\nThat was the item even as it had come in to Prince John from his cousin\nPhilip of France: \"The King is abroad.\"\n\nRichard of England, the Lion Heart, he whom all thought to be safely out\nof the country--some said in a foreign prison, others that he was\nfighting the paynims in the Holy Land. In any case, he had returned, and\nnow all such as the Sheriff and the Bishop of Hereford must put their\nhouses in order, and say, once and for all, that they would be loyal and\nfaithful and plot no more with fickle princes behind their true King's\nback.\n\nSir Richard of the Lee, whose son had so lately come home to his\nfather's castle, could, an he had liked, have explained much to them. He\nknew that the King was in England; for had he not but a few hours since,\nparted from him with a pardon in his hand and happiness in his heart?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFriar Tuck, having been forced to run all night in order that he might\nbe able to bring the news as to Little John in to Robin, had compensated\nhimself for the loss of his repose by lying abed the better part of the\nnext day. Stirring things were going forward in the old city of\nNottingham, as we know; but only at dusk, when all was over and Robin\nand them all were safely lodged in Sir Richard's stronghold, did the\nworthy friar open his little wicket gate and remember him of his fasting\ndogs.\n\nHe fed them and passed the remaining hours of day in putting them\nthrough their tricks; then, feeling that he had well earned a good meal,\nthe friar took out some sumptuous fare from his larder and arranged it\nconveniently upon the small wooden bench in his cell. He then lit a\ntaper, as the night was at hand, bolted and barred his door, and drew\nhis seat close to the promising board.\n\nHe uprolled his eyes, and had commenced a Latin grace, when suddenly\ncame interruption unpleasant and alarming. One of his dogs began to\nbark, deeply and resentfully. The others followed him in the same note,\nchanging the calm stillness of the night into discordant, frenzied\nclamor. \"Now, who, in the name of all the saints, cometh here?\"\nexclaimed Tuck, wrathfully, proceeding to bundle his supper back into\nthe small larder. \"May perdition and all the furies grant that he may\nevermore know the pangs of an empty stomach!\"\n\nHis pious wishes were rudely interrupted by a loud knocking upon the\ndoor of his hermitage. \"Open, open!\" cried a strident voice.\n\n\"I have no means of helping you, poor traveller,\" roared the friar. \"Go\nyour way into Gamewell, 'tis but a few miles hence upon a straight\nroad.\"\n\n\"I will not stir another yard,\" said the voice, determinedly; \"open your\ndoor, or I will batter it down with the hilt of my sword.\"\n\nThe priest then, with anger glowing in his eyes, unbarred the door, and\nflung it open. Before him stood the figure of a knight, clad in black\narmor and with vizor down.\n\nThe Black Knight strode into the friar's cell without waiting for\ninvitation.\n\n\"Have you no supper, brother?\" asked the knight, curtly. \"I must beg a\nbed of you this night, and fain would refresh my body ere I sleep.\"\n\n\"I have naught but half of mine own supper to offer you,\" replied Tuck;\n\"a little dry bread and a pitcher of water.\"\n\n\"Methinks I can smell better fare than that, brother;\" and the Black\nKnight offered to look into the larder.\n\nThis was more than Tuck could bear, so he caught up his staff and flung\nhimself before his guest in a threatening attitude. \"Why, then, if you\n_will_,\" cried the knight, and he struck the priest smartly with the\nflat of his sword.\n\nThe friar put down his staff. \"Now,\" said he, with meaning, \"since you\nhave struck me we will play this game to a fair finish. Wherefore, if\nyou are a true knight, give me your pledge that you will fight me on\nto-morrow morn with quarter-staff until one of us shall cry 'Enough.'\"\n\n\"With all my soul,\" cried the knight, readily. \"And will give more\nknocks than ever you have given your dogs.\"\n\n\"One gives and takes,\" retorted Tuck, sententiously; \"put up your sword\nand help me to lay supper, for I am passing hungry.\"\n\nThey spread the supper table between them, and once again the friar sat\ndown hopefully. He spoke his grace with unction, and was surprised to\nhear his guest echo the Latin words after him. The knight unlaced his\nhelm and took it off. He appeared as a bronzed and bearded man,\nstern-looking and handsome.\n\nThey then attacked the venison pasty right valiantly, and pledged each\nother in a cup of wine. The good food and comfort warmed them both, and\nsoon they were at a gossip, cheerful and astounding. So they passed the\ntime until the hour grew late; and both fell asleep together, almost in\ntheir places, by the despoiled supper table.\n\nIn the morning they breakfasted on the remains, and then they washed\ntheir faces in the jumping brook. The knight told the priest that he had\nleft his companions at Locksley on the previous evening. He asked so\nmany questions as to Robin Hood and his men that the priest had to fence\nvery skilfully.\n\nIf the knight had been in a hurry before he seemed now to have changed\nhis mind. He said that he would wait for his companions, if the priest\ncould bear with him, and Friar Tuck, having taken a great liking to this\ngenial traveller, made no complaint.\n\n\"I must presently journey forth to visit a poor man who lieth on a sick\nbed,\" said the friar, thinking of Robin.\n\n\"Mayhap we may travel together?\" suggested the knight. \"I am going, so\nsoon as friends have found me, into Gamewell.\"\n\n\"I go into Barnesdale,\" said Tuck, quickly, \"which is in quite another\ndirection.\"\n\nAt last the knight said he must go on, with or without his fellows, and\nhe took up his sword. The friar then got out two quarter-staves, full\nnine feet long. Without a word he handed one to the knight.\n\nHe took it, and eyed the friar whimsically; then, seeing no sign of\nrelenting in him, shrugged his shoulders. He put off his helm again, and\nboth going out to the little glade by the ruined shrine of St. Dunstan,\nthey prepared for a bout with the staves.\n\nFor all his plumpness Tuck was no mean opponent at the game. He skipped\nand flourished about and around the knight in a surprising way; and gave\nhim at last such a crack upon his crown as made the tears start.\n\nThen the Black Knight struck in mighty wrath, and soon the blows of\ntheir staves were making the welkin ring. So busy they were as to give\nno heed of the approach of a goodly company of men.\n\nIt was Sir Richard of the Lee, with his son and retinue, journeying in a\nroundabout way in order to throw Monceux off the scent, and so give\nRobin a chance to reach his stronghold in Barnesdale. Both knights\npaused in amazement to see this furious combat.\n\nAt last the Black Knight brought down his staff with a noise like\nfelling timber upon the shoulder of the priest. Tuck staggered, and\ndropped his staff. \"Enough, enough,\" he cried; then fell in a heap upon\nthe wet grass.\n\nThe knight flung away his staff and ran to help him. He lifted up the\npriest's head and put it on his knee. Glancing up, he espied them all\nstaring at him. \"Run, one of you, and bring me some water.\"\n\nSir Richard of the Lee started when he heard that voice. He turned to\nhis son, but already the young man had doffed his helm and was filling\nit with water from the brook. He brought it quickly to the Black Knight,\nand, offering it, kneeled before him in deepest respect and affection.\n\n\"I thank you, child,\" spoke the Black Knight, graciously. \"See, this\ngood fellow hath but swooned and already doth revive. Are these your\nmen, and this the father who gave his all for you?\"\n\nSir Richard drew nearer and kneeled as his son had done, whilst the\nservitors looked on in strange fear. \"Arise, honest man,\" said the Black\nKnight, with feeling, \"I know your story, and have pardoned your son.\nWhat can I give to you to show you how we esteem a man just and\nfaithful, even in adversity?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" faltered Sir Richard, rising and standing with bared head before\nhim. \"If I might ask aught of you I would crave amnesty for myself and\nfor my men. You will hear ere long how we have befriended one Robin\nHood, an outlaw of these woods. Through his generous help I was able to\ndisencumber my estates, and yesterday, seeing him hard pressed, I opened\nmy hall to him.\"\n\n\"I will hear the story,\" the Black Knight said, briefly, \"and then I\nwill judge.\" He turned to Tuck, who now was sitting up, and gazing about\nhim in bewildered fashion. \"Take my hand, brother; let me help you to\nyour feet.\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" said the friar, leaning on the knight, after he had risen,\n\"was that a bolt from the sky which just now did strike me down?\"\n\n\"I do fear it was this staff, brother,\" answered the other, smiling,\n\"with my poor arm to guide it. 'Twas an ill-requital for your\nhospitality, and I ask your forgiveness.\"\n\n\"So small a thing as man's forgiveness of man,\" spoke Tuck,\nsententiously, \"I freely accord to you.\" He peeped at Sir Richard, and\nrecognized him at once as the knight of the woeful visage. He made no\nsign of this knowledge, however. \"Are these your companions, Sir Knight,\nof whom you did tell me last night?\" he asked, indicating the others\nwith a wide gesture.\n\n\"Why, yes, and no, brother,\" replied the knight, whimsically. \"They are\nnot my companions in a sense, and yet I do purpose to make them such\nforthwith. But come, 'tis time for me to be stirring an I would make an\nend of my quest. I will be frank with you, brother. I seek Robin Hood,\nand had hoped that he might be attending you to-day in this very place.\"\n\nThe friar put up his hands with an exclamation of horror. \"I am a lover\nof peace, Sir Knight, and do not consort with such as these.\"\n\n\"Nay, I think no harm of Master Hood,\" the knight hastened to say, \"but\nI much yearn to see and speak with him.\"\n\n\"If that be all, and you will come with me,\" said Tuck, scenting a good\nprey for Robin, \"I will undertake to show you where these villains say\ntheir nightly Mass. I could not live long in this wood without knowing\nsomewhat of Master Hood, be sure; and matters of religion have perforce\nmy most earnest attention.\"\n\n\"I will go with you, brother,\" said the Black Knight.\n\nThe friar led the three to his cell. \"Bid all the men return to your\ncastle,\" the Black Knight commanded, loudly, \"save four of those most to\nbe trusted.\" Under his breath he bade Sir Richard tell his fellows to\npretend to disperse, and to follow stealthily after their master soon as\nan hour was gone.\n\nFriar Tuck had produced some old monkish gowns from under a bench. He\nbade the seven of them put them on, the three knights and the four\nchosen men. \"We will attend the Mass as brothers of my order, which is\nDominican, as you may see,\" explained Tuck, easily. \"You, Sir Knight of\nthe iron wrist, shall wear this dress, which was an abbot's once. I\nwould we had a horse for you; it would be more seemly, and less like to\nrouse suspicion.\"\n\nSir Richard said that there were horses with his men in plenty; and one\nwas readily obtained for the Black Knight's use. The little cavalcade\nset out for Barnesdale, the friar joyfully leading the way. The\nservitors affected to return to Sir Richard's castle, but hid themselves\nin the bushes instead.\n\nAfter going deeper and deeper into the forest they came at last to a\npart of Watling Street, and there was Robin Hood with a score of his\nmen. He was watching the road for Monceux, having a notion that the\nSheriff would try now to take them in the rear.\n\nRecognizing Tuck at once, Robin walked boldly up to them. \"By your\nleave, brothers,\" cried he, taking hold of the bridle of the knight's\nhorse and stopping him, \"we are poor yeomen of the forest, and have no\nmeans of support, thanks to the tyranny and injustice of the Norman\nnobles in this land. But you abbots and churchmen have both fine\nchurches and rents, and plenty of gold without. Wherefore, for charity's\nsake, give us a little of your spending money.\"\n\n\"We are poor monks, good Master Hood,\" cried Tuck, in a wheedling tone;\n\"I pray you do not stay us. We are journeying with all speed to a\nmonastery in Fountain's Dale, which we hear hath been deserted by its\nowners.\"\n\n\"I can tell you much concerning this very place,\" said Robin. \"Give me\nalms, and I will open my lips to purpose.\"\n\nThe pretended abbot spoke now. \"I have been journeying, good Master\nHood, with the King,\" said he, in full deep voice, \"and I have spent the\ngreater part of my moneys. Fifty golden pieces is all that I have with\nme.\"\n\n\"It is the very sum I would ask of thee, Sir Abbot,\" said Robin,\ncheerily.\n\nHe took the gold which the other freely offered, and divided it into two\neven sums. One half he gave to those with him, bidding them take it to\nthe treasury, the other he returned to the knight. \"For thy courtesy,\nSir Abbot, keep this gold for thine own spending. 'Tis like that you\nwill journey with the King again, and need it.\"\n\n\"I will tell you now,\" said the pretended abbot, \"for I see that you are\ntruly Robin Hood, although so small a man, that Richard of the Lion\nHeart is returned to England, and hath bid me seek you out. He hath\nheard much of you, and bids you, through me, to come into Nottingham and\nthere partake of his hospitality.\"\n\nRobin laughed heartily. \"That is where we may not venture, Sir Abbot,\nsince we value our skins. But where is your authority?\"\n\nThe knight produced the King's seal from under his abbot's gown. Robin\nlooked at it, and fell at once upon his knees. \"I love a true man,\"\ncried he, \"and by all hearing my King is such an one. Now that he is\ncome to take sovereignty over us we may hope for justice, even in\nNottingham town. I thank you for your tidings, Sir Abbot; and for the\nlove I have of valor and all true kingly virtues, I bid you and your\nfellows to sup freely with us under my trystal tree.\" He then offered to\nlead them into Barnesdale; and the pretended monks, after a short\ndiscussion, agreed to accept his offer.\n\nThey soon were come before the caves of Barnesdale, and were presented\nto those of the band already there. Presently Robin blew two blasts upon\nhis horn, and the rest of the greenwood men made their appearance. All\nwere dressed in their new livery, and carried new bows in their left\nhands. Each one knelt for a moment before Robin, as leader of them, ere\ntaking his place.\n\nA handsome, dark-haired page stood at Robin's right hand, to hold his\ncup for him and pour him wine. The signal was given, Robin graciously\nplaced the abbot in the place of honor; and under the cool fresh\nevening, bright still with the aftermath of the day, the banquet was\nbegun.\n\nThe Black Knight was struck with astonishment. \"By all the saints,\"\nthought he, \"this is a wondrous sight. There is more obedience shown to\nthis outlaw man than my fellows have shown to me.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\n\nAfter supper Robin signalled to his men to bend their bows. The knight\nwas startled, for he thought they intended to choose him for their\ntarget.\n\nHe was quickly undeceived, however, for two arrows were set up as butts\nfor these archers. The knight marvelled indeed to see so small a mark\ngiven in this waning light. A garland of leaves was balanced on the top\nof each arrow, and Robin laid down the rules. Whoever failed to speed\nhis shaft through this garland--and it was to be done without knocking\nit off the arrow--was to yield up his own shaft to Robin, and receive\nalso buffet from the hand of Friar Tuck.\n\n\"Master,\" said Stuteley, \"that may not be, for the good friar is not yet\ncome to confess us this day.\" He winked his eyes at Robin, well knowing\nthat the friar sat near to the other monks.\n\n\"Doubtless he will be here ere the game be ended,\" replied Robin,\nsmiling. \"I prithee commence soon as I clap my hands.\"\n\nLittle John, limping, Stuteley and old Warrenton each flew their arrows\ntruly through the garlands, as did many of the rest. Poor Midge and\nArthur-\u00e0-Bland were not so fortunate, for though both came near to doing\nit, the garlands unkindly fell off an instant after their shafts had\nflown through them.\n\n\"Where is the friar?\" cried Robin, affecting to peer into the distance,\nalready blue-grey with twilight. \"Surely he is late to-night.\"\n\nThen Tuck could bear it no longer, but stood up in his place. \"Come near\nto me, thou villainous archers,\" he roared, \"and I will buffet you right\nwell.\"\n\n\"Ah, brother, what are you saying?\" cried the knight, anxiously. \"Surely\nyou forget our vows and our cloth.\"\n\n\"I forget neither the one nor the other,\" returned Tuck. \"But I would be\nno true man did I submit to watch quietly such bungling as these fellows\nhave done. Come hither, Midge.\"\n\n\"You know them--you are of this company?\" continued the knight, as if in\nalarm.\n\n\"I am very proud to be of it, brother,\" said the friar.\n\n\"I crave a boon,\" the knight then said, turning to Robin. \"This is a\nlittle man who will receive the buffets; and though I seem a priest, yet\nam I willing to take the blow instead.\"\n\n\"If you would care to have a buffet from me,\" the friar cried, \"you are\nmost welcome. For though my arm is sore still from our play of this\nmorn, I warrant me there is still some strength left in it;\" and he\nrolled up his sleeve.\n\n\"Take, then, the first blow,\" said the knight, \"and I promise you I will\nreturn it you with interest.\"\n\nA smile lit up the face of the jolly friar. He turned up the sleeve of\nhis cassock still further, and smote the false abbot such a blow as\nwould have felled an ox.\n\n\"Thou hittest well, brother,\" the knight remarked, coolly.\n\nThe friar was amazed to see him withstand such a blow, and so was Robin.\n\"Now, 'tis my turn,\" the knight said; and, baring his arm, he dealt Tuck\nsuch a blow as to send him flat upon his back.\n\nThere was a general laugh at this; but the exertion had caused the\nabbot's cowl to slip away from his head. The strong face and light beard\nof the Black Knight showed plainly to them all. \"Alas, your majesty,\"\ncried Sir Richard of the Lee, springing up; \"you have betrayed\nyourself.\"\n\n\"It is the King!\" cried Scarlett, in sheer surprise; and reverently he\nknelt before the Black Knight. Robin glanced questioningly towards the\ngreenwood men; then knelt himself beside Scarlett. At once the whole\ncompany fell upon their knees also.\n\n\"My lord King,\" said Robin, in hushed voice, \"I crave mercy for my men\nand for myself. We have not chosen this life from any wickedness, but\nrather have come to it perforce.\"\n\nThe King towered amongst them. \"Swear,\" cried he, in clear, loud voice.\n\"Swear that you will forsake your wild ways, Robin Fitzooth, and will\ncome with your men into my Court, and be good and faithful subjects from\nthis night, and I will give you all the pardon that you crave.\"\n\n\"We will come into your Court and into your service, sire,\" answered\nRobin, gratefully, \"nor ask anything better in this world than that.\"\n\nThe King bade them rise and continue their sports. \"Night is come and I\nmust ask a lodging of you--even as your chaplain gave me of his\nhospitality yester e'en,\" he said, comfortably. \"And tell me, Robin,\nwhere is your Marian? What laggard in love are you to be here without\nher?\"\n\n\"Nay, sire,\" said the little page, coming forward, \"Robin is no laggard,\nnor am I far to seek. He is a very valiant, honorable man, and should\nindeed be a knight of this realm, if all men had their deserts.\"\n\nRichard smiled then, and bent his haughty head to kiss the little hand\nshe had extended to him. \"Thou speakest truth, lady,\" he answered. \"And\nI had not forgotten how the fair lands of Broadweald once were in Hugh\nFitzooth's honest keeping. It may be that they will return to his son\none day, for folks tell me that Guy of Gisborne is no more.\"\n\nHe turned to Scarlett. \"And you are Master Geoffrey of Montfichet,\" said\nhe, fixing his keen eyes on the other's face, \"son of my father's\nfriend, George Montfichet of Gamewell? And prithee, Master Geoffrey,\nwhat have you done with my little cousin, Aim\u00e9e of Aragon?\"\n\nScarlett confusedly explained that she was safe in his father's hall at\nGamewell. \"It seemeth, then, that you also have stolen from our Sheriff\nat Nottingham, Master Scarlett?\" Richard observed, quizzing him. \"Surely\nall men's hands are against Monceux!\"\n\n\"Even as all men's hands are against venomous reptiles and the like,\"\nobserved the friar, nodding his head. He had recovered from the buffet\nwhich Richard's hand had dealt, and had seated himself conveniently to\nwatch the scene. He was truly the one least put about by it.\n\nThe King eyed him, and smiled to note his quiet self-possession. \"What\ncan I find for you, brother?\" he asked, indulgently. \"Some fat living,\nwhere there are no wicked to chastise, and where the work is easy and\nwell endowed?\"\n\n\"I only wish for peace in this life,\" replied the friar. \"Mine is a\nsimple nature, and I care not for the gewgaws and shams of Court. Give\nme a good meal and a cup of the right brew, health, and enough for the\nday, and I ask no more either of my God or of my King.\"\n\nRichard sighed. \"You ask the greatest thing in the world,\nbrother--contentment. It is not mine to give or to deny. Yet if I can\nhelp you to find that wondrous jewel, I will do it right heartily.\" He\nglanced curiously from one to the other of the greenwood men. \"Which of\nyou is called Allan-a-Dale?\" he asked; and when Allan had come forward,\n\"So,\" said Richard, half sternly, \"you are the man who stole a bride\nfrom her man at my church doors of Plympton. What have you to say in\nexcuse of this wickedness?\"\n\n\"Only that I loved her, sire, and that she loved me,\" said Allan. \"Your\nNorman baron would have forced her to wed with him, desiring her lands.\"\n\n\"Which since hath been forfeited by my lord of Hereford,\" said Richard,\nquickly. \"I know your story, Allan. Take back your lands and hers from\nme this night, and live in peace and loyalty upon them with your dame.\nFennel, she is called, is't not so? 'Tis a pretty name.\"\n\n\"I thank you humbly, sire,\" said Allan-a-Dale, joyfully. \"And Fennel\nshall thank you for herself. She will do it far better than I, be sure\nof it.\"\n\n\"Where is your dame?\" said the King, looking about and half expecting to\nfind her clad like Marian in boy's attire.\n\n\"She also is at Gamewell,\" said Sir Richard, hastily. \"We left her there\nthis morning when on our way to Copmanhurst. The Princess will take her\ninto her train, and protect both Mistress Fennel and her lord.\"\n\n\"Our Princess will need a protector for her own self, I am thinking,\"\nsaid the King, thoughtfully. \"Come hither, Scarlett, and kneel before\nme!\"\n\nGeoffrey wonderingly did so. \"Arise, Geoffrey Earl of Nottingham,\" cried\nRichard, striking his shoulder with the flat of his sword; \"take back\nyour freedom from my hands, and be no more ashamed to attend our Court\ndisguised and in false pretence. From this moment you have the\noverlordship of this forest for your father's sake and mine, and you are\nworthy to ask the hand of any woman in this realm.\"\n\nIt was impossible not to perceive the King's gracious meaning, although\nGeoffrey could scarce believe in his good fortune. He thanked his King\nin a voice full of gratitude and affection. \"You did say that the\nPrincess of Aragon might need a protector, sire,\" he added, trembling at\nhis own audacity. \"Will you grant me permission to be her champion and\ndefy the world?\"\n\n\"'Tis what I had promised for you, my lord of Nottingham,\" said Richard,\nquietly, \"and best reason for your knight-hood! Watch well over her, and\nguard her from herself--if need be.\"\n\nFor Much the Miller, for Middle the Tinker, for Little John, Stuteley\nand old Warrenton the King had kindly words. He knew them all, it\nseemed; and they marvelled more and more amongst themselves to hear how\nhe was aware of all their histories. There was no adventurer, no man of\nthem whom he did not know by name and fame, at least; and this King\nproved so gracious and royal a man that all of them loved him forthwith\nand dubbed him in their hearts a right worthy monarch.\n\nThey built a great fire, having now no more fear of Monceux or Hereford,\nor any one of them. The Sheriff would hold his office from Will\nScarlett's hands from now!\n\nThe archers from Nottingham who had been held as prisoners were at once\nreleased, and the King signalled for Sir Richard's followers to appear.\nThis they did with a rush, and Robin saw then how the King had held them\nall truly in his hand, for these fellows, and even Sir Richard of the\nLee, their master, would have had to obey him had he ordered them to\nengage the greenwood men in sudden combat.\n\nAs it was, all were merry and boon companions. Laughter and song floated\nupward as the jumping flames of the camp fire they had built. The friar\nsang them the song which Robin had heard so often, and Robin himself\nplayed upon the harp. Night came and they slept--King of England and his\nsubjects together, in all joy and happiness. The fire burned low, and\ndeep Sherwood watched over them--forest mother of them all.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNext morning the King asked if they had any spare liveries of the\nscarlet and white. \"For,\" said he, \"'tis only fair that I should lead\nyou into the city of Nottingham clad as you are yourselves, since now\nyou are my bodyguard.\"\n\nSo Nottingham awoke to find a great company of men approaching it.\nForemost came a number of archers dressed all in bright liveries and\ncarrying their bows unslung in token of peace. Behind them marched a\nmotley host--the servitors of Sir Richard and of old George of Gamewell,\nand last of all the Sheriff's own archers.\n\nMonceux came out to meet them with Master Simeon, whilst my lord of\nHereford watched furtively from the city walls. The chief of the\napproaching host rode forward, and his stern, dark face was plain to\nsee.\n\n\"'Tis the King!\" cried Carfax, who knew Richard well. \"Now may our\ntongues be politic and say the right words.\"\n\n\"Go to meet him, Simeon,\" whispered the Sheriff, all in a flutter of\nfear and hope. \"'Tis like that he hath encountered Sir Richard of the\nLee, and so will know his story of things. Be prudent, be humble.\"\n\nBut Richard waved Carfax haughtily aside. \"I will speak with your\nmaster, fellow,\" he said, harshly. Carfax shrank cringingly to one side,\nand Monceux dismounted from his milk-white horse to meet his King.\n\n\"Greetings and welcome, sire, from this your faithful city,\" began\nMonceux, very hurriedly. \"The joyful tidings of your return were brought\nto me two days agone, and at once I did prepare for your coming.\"\n\n\"With a-hanging to wit, and murderous attack upon the castle of this\nfaithful knight,\" said Richard. \"A welcome not much to our mind,\nSheriff.\"\n\n\"Sire, when the hanging was going forward I did not then know you were\nso near,\" explained Monceux, making matters worse. \"And, for the matter\nof that, 'twas for foul murder that I would have hanged the villain, who\ndid escape through your knight's evil practices. Thereby I do accuse Sir\nRichard of offending against the laws.\"\n\n\"Enough, Master Monceux,\" interrupted the King, contemptuously. \"The\nmurder was not done by the man whose life you did seek so earnestly to\nend. The killing of Fitzwalter, my warden of these gates, was due to the\nfoul hands of your own cook, Roger de Burgh. As you have stomach for a\nhanging, see to it that this fellow be brought to book. Know you this\nwriting?\"\n\nAnd Richard showed him the parchment which Will Scarlett had found in\nthe hearth of the hall at Nottingham Castle.\n\nMonceux turned green and white, and gasped for air. \"I had no hand in\nthis dreadful business, sire, I swear it,\" he gurgled. \"We did conspire\nbetween us to entice the maid Fitzwalter into Nottingham, I confess,\nhoping that Robin Hood, the outlaw, would come to visit her, and we\nmight so trap him. He hath been the author of this mischief, I promise\nyou, and is a villainous wretch. If Roger killed Master Fitzwalter,\n'twas done in the belief that he was engaged with Hood.\"\n\n\"As I thought,\" muttered the new Earl of Nottingham, under his breath.\n\n\"Therefore,\" said Richard, slowly, \"you, Monceux, knew all along that\nLittle John was not guilty, and yet did seek to hang him.\"\n\n\"Sire, he stole my plate also, and had been excommunicated by my lord of\nHereford.\"\n\n\"Take Roger and hang him speedily,\" cried the King, to end it. \"And\nbring me to the Bishop. Stay!\" he called to the quickly retreating\nSheriff; \"ere you go, Monceux, learn that from henceforward you must\nlook for patronage from this my lord of Nottingham,\" he added, with a\ngesture. \"He will be your master, and you will hold the feof of\nNottingham Castle at his hands.\"\n\n\"Will Scarlett--Master Geoffrey of Montfichet--you?\" gasped Monceux.\n\n\"Even I, Master Sheriff,\" replied the man of many names.\n\n\"Know also, Monceux,\" added Richard, indicating Robin and his men,\n\"these are my archers and especial guards. From now the ban of\nexcommunication must be removed.\"\n\nThe Bishop had come down from the walls and had drawn nigh. \"Fetch me\nbook and candle, Carfax,\" said he, \"and I will remove the ban.\"\n\n\"You will be wise to do so, my lord,\" the King said, significantly. The\nBishop deemed it prudent to give no particular heed to his sire's tone.\nAt once he proceeded to take off the ban of excommunication he had so\nhastily pronounced upon Robin Hood and the rest of his merry men.\n\n\"Now, Robin, take payment for your entertainment of me in the woods,\"\nthe King said, in a voice that would brook no denial. Robin drew near\nand kneeled before him, doubtfully. \"Rise, Robin of Huntingdon, first\nEarl of the shire!\" cried Richard, tapping him with the point of his\nblade. \"Take rank amongst my knights, and learn that thy King\nrecognizeth above the other neither Saxon nor Norman of his\nsubjects--all to me are English; and I love the man who is brave and who\ndealeth fairly as he may with his fellow men. You have kept the spirit\nof liberty alive in this my land, and I hold no anger against you\nbecause you have been impatient under wrong.\"\n\nHis proud voice was silent; while Robin Earl of Huntingdon seized his\nKing's hand to his lips and kissed it in a wonderment of gratitude.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\n\nIt was the wedding-day of four happy people. The day was bright, the sky\nblue, and Sherwood had taken upon itself early summer raiment.\n\nThe old church of Nottingham was already crowded to excess.\n\nThe newly banded guard of Royal bowmen, gay in their scarlet and white\nlivery, were formed up in two straight lines from the church door to the\nlych gate.\n\nSo soon as the weddings were over all would go back to a great feast,\ngiven at Gamewell Hall, in honor of the day. Then afterward the two\ncouples would go with the king into London, to be followed within seven\ndays by the rest of the Royal guard. Richard meant to employ these\nfellows shrewdly and test their loyalty. Not for reasons of sentiment\nonly had he forgiven Robin and his men.\n\nThe hour was reached, and at once a small company was seen issuing forth\nfrom Nottingham Castle. Against his will Master Monceux had given use of\nthe castle to the two bridegrooms--the newly made Earls of Nottingham\nand Huntingdon.\n\nWith Robin and Geoffrey were, firstly, old George of Gamewell, proud\nabove all others in knowing that he had now a son who would ensure honor\nto the race of Montfichet all their days. The Squire was happy and\nradiant. He walked between them, and turned his head ever and again in\nlaughing speech with Sir Richard of the Lee and his heir. Stuteley and\nLittle John were next, the long and short of it; and after them the\njovial Friar of Copmanhurst. Arthur-\u00e0-Bland, with a gold chain about his\nneck, given him by the knight Sir Richard, walked with Middle the Tinker\non his left and Much the Miller on his right. Close behind trotted the\nsmall complaisant Midge, dressed up very fine in a livery of purple\ndoublet and green hose.\n\nThey came to the lych gate, and the crowd jostled itself in its\nadmiration. As they walked, rather consciously, up the narrow path\nbetween the smiling ranks of their fellows the crowd cheered them\nradiantly.\n\n\"A Hood! A Montfichet!\" was called and called again. Some maids from the\nopposite windows threw them kisses and waved pretty kerchiefs in their\nhonor.\n\nWithin the church, waiting for them soberly at the chancel steps, was my\nlord of Hereford, dressed out in his finest and richest robes, and\nbeside him Friar Tuck. For Robin Hood and Will Scarlett the Bishop had\nenmity and contempt, but towards the Earls of Huntingdon and Nottingham\nthis time-serving man could only profess an abundance of respect.\n\nThe brides were to be escorted from Gamewell by no other person than the\nKing himself. He was to give them both in marriage, and had promised\nthem jewels and to spare when they were come to Court.\n\nLoud cheering and noise from the mob without the church told of their\napproach. The people were wild with joy at having their King amongst\nthem like this.\n\nCitizens, burgesses, apprentices were all in their best, their wives and\ntheir sweethearts all dressed out in splendid attire. As the King jumped\ndown from his horse before the lych gate, and held out his strong hand\nto help the brides from off their milk-white mares, the whole place\nbecame alive with excitement and rapture.\n\nLittle maids, with baskets of violets and primroses, flung their\nofferings prettily under the feet of the two beauteous blushing brides,\nwho leaned so timidly upon the King's proud arms.\n\nAt last the service was begun and both couples were well nigh wed. The\nBishop had spoken the Latin service impressively and with unction.\n\nIn the first row stood Monceux, in all the pomp of his shrievalty, with\nhis councilmen and aldermen. Master Simeon, with face leaner than ever\nand inturning eyes, glared impotently at the chief actors in this\nhistoric scene.\n\nAlone missing from it was the cold, colorless beauty of the demoiselle\nMarie. She had taken herself to her room this morn, and had sworn never\nto leave it again. But now that the double marriage was nearly made she\nsuddenly appeared, thrusting her way rudely through the gathered crowd\nat the church door. She was wild-eyed, dishevelled, her dress fastened\nall awry. Folks looked once at her, and then exchanged glances between\nthemselves.\n\n\"Stay this mockery of marriage, my lord,\" she cried, fiercely facing the\nBishop. She had elbowed a path for herself to the chancel steps. \"I do\nforbid the marrying of these two.\" She pointed a trembling finger from\nRobin to Marian. \"This woman is blood-guilty, and Holy Church may not\ncountenance her.\" She shrilled, desperately, \"'Twas she who foully\nkilled Master Fitzwalter, her own father, and I have proof of it!\"\n\n\"'Tis false!\" roared Robin, then beside himself. \"You viper--you\nmean-souled spy! Is no crime too great for you?\"\n\n\"There is no need for defence,\" spoke the King; \"the charge is too wild\nand foolish an one. Seize this woman, some of you, and take her without.\nI will deal with her later.\" He imperiously signed to his guards, and at\nonce the demoiselle was gripped harshly by both arms.\n\n\"Be gentle with her,\" pleaded Marian; \"she is distraught, and hath not\ncommand upon herself. I beg of you, sire, to forgive this; I have no\nquarrel with Mistress Monceux.\"\n\nThe demoiselle had suddenly become quiet under the fierce hands of Much\nand Little John. She allowed them to thrust her ignominiously forth. At\nthe door of the church she turned once as though to renew her\npreposterous charges, but contented herself merely with a single glance\ntowards them of malignant hate. Then she was gone; and people stirred\nthemselves uneasily, as folks do when having been within touch of the\nplague.\n\nThe Sheriff had stared with protruding eyes of horror and dismay upon\nhis daughter. When he saw that she was gone, that the dreadful episode\nwas done, he gasped hurriedly and sat down. His mind became confused,\nhis vision obscured as by a cloud. The service was finished. Robin and\nMarian, Geoffrey and Aim\u00e9e (no longer of Aragon) were joined together\nfor the rest of their lives. The Bishop pronounced a blessing; and\nforgetting himself utterly in the emotion of the moment, spoke fervently\nand with purpose.\n\nThe King kissed the brides, and after him their husbands kissed them\nalso. Then all signed their names in the church books, and the\ntrumpeters and heralds made music for them.\n\nThey returned through the streets of Nottingham, gay now with flags and\nmerry with a joyful populace. Loud cheerings rent the air, and people\nshowered flowers and blessings upon them. Before the happy couples ran\nsix of the greenwood men, loyal subjects now, flinging largesse upon the\npeople right and left from out of well-filled bags. All the treasure\nthat they had accumulated in their caves at Barnesdale the King's bowmen\nfreely distributed this day. All were happy--the nightmare of unjust\ndealings, of Norman oppression, of laws for the poor and none for the\nrich, was ended. The King had said it, and the King had already made\ngood the promise in his words.\n\nAfterward, at Gamewell, Richard conferred upon Montfichet full rank as\nBaron of the Realm, with power to speak and vote in the Upper Court of\nAppeal, the highest rank in the land, next to the King himself. Sir\nRichard of the Lee and his son became members of the Star Chamber, with\ngrants of land in perpetuity.\n\nTurning to Marian, the King wished her every joy that she could wish\nherself, and gave to her the lands of Broadweald in Lancashire to hold\nin her own right for ever. \"Thus you shall have wealth to share with\nyour Robin; and I counsel you both to make good use of your days. My\nsubjects who are loyal to me shall have no cause to regret it. I will\ngive you, Aim\u00e9e, the Castle of Acquitaine, which I held under my\nfather's grant until his death. You know how fair a spot it is, and how\nsweet the sky of France! Help her to administer her riches, Geoffrey,\nwisely and well; and be you all ready when I shall call upon you. Now\nGod save you all. Amen.\"\n\n\n\n\nEPILOGUE\n\n\nIn all sincerity there should be no more of this tale, seeing that we\nhave found ourselves at last come from beginning to end of Robin's\nquarrelings with the Sheriff. Most histories end, and end properly, with\njust such a marriage as we have seen.\n\nYet, to tell the truth, however strange and distressful, is the business\nof a good historian; and so it must be written that in the end of it sad\ndays came again for Robin Hood. For five years he lived in peace and\nprosperity, a faithful, loyal subject, having two sons born to him in\nhis home in Broadweald. Then came the plague, raging and furious, and\nclaimed amongst many victims Marian Countess of Huntingdon.\n\nFor a time Robin was as one distraught. He had no joy left to him. He\nwas as one without energy or hope; a miser robbed of his gold, suddenly\nand cruelly. He gave his two boys into the charge of Geoffrey of\nNottingham, and went on a journey to London, there to beg of the King\nthat he might find him active employment, instead of being but one of a\nguard of honor, as he and his men had so truly become.\n\nRichard had already gone to France, and John was acting as Regent of\nEngland in his absence. \"Go, shoot some more of my brother's deer,\"\nsneered the Prince, having heard Robin impatiently. \"Doubtless if you do\nbut slay enough of them he will make you Privy Councillor at the least\nwhen he returns.\"\n\nThis great insult fired Robin's blood; he had been in a strange\ndistemper ever since the fatal day of his beloved's death. He answered\nthe disdainful Prince scornfully; and John, growing white with anger,\nbade his guards to seize upon him.\n\nFaithful Stuteley helped his master to win freedom from the prison into\nwhich he had been flung; and, with the majority of his men, Robin\nreturned to the greenwood life. The King's guard was broken up, for the\nKing had no need of it, nor never would again.\n\nLegends are told of Robin's scorned defiance of the laws, but they are\nintangible and unauthentic. It is a sure thing, howbeit, that he did not\nrevert to Sherwood and Barnesdale as some aver, but rather took up his\nquarters near Haddon Hall, in Derbyshire. There is a curious pile of\nstones and rocks shown to this day as the ruins of Robin's Castle, where\nthe bold outlaw is believed to have lived and defied his enemies for a\nyear at least. Two stones stand higher than the others. These are\nsupposed to be the seats in the hall of this vanished stronghold whereon\nRobin and Little John sat delivering judgment on matters of forest law.\n\nAnother chronicle gives these stones as being the scene of a wondrous\nleap done by Robin, to show his men that strength and will were his yet.\n\"Robin Hood's stride,\" folks say.\n\nOne thing is sure--that Prince John did not easily forgive or forget\nhim. After many attempts made upon them at Haddon--some desperate enough\nin all conscience, Robin and his men were allowed to be at peace. In one\nof these encounters Robin was sorely wounded; and none but Little John\nknew of it.\n\nThe wound was in Robin's breast, and looked but a small place. It bled\nlittle, yet would not heal; and slowly became inflamed in wider circles.\nInwardly it burned him as with a consuming fire, his strength was sapped\nout from him and his eyes began to lose their shrewdness. No longer\ncould he split an arrow at forty paces, as in olden days.\n\nAt last he took Little John on one side. \"Dear heart,\" said he, \"I do\nnot feel able to shoot another arrow, and soon the rest will know I am\nstricken sore. I have it in me to return to London and there give myself\nto the Prince. Mayhap if I did this he would give you all amnesty here.\"\n\n\"Sooner would I see you dead than you should do such a thing,\" cried\nLittle John; \"I swear it by my soul and by my body! Now listen, dear\nmaster, and I will tell you that I have heard of a wondrous cure for\nthee. An old beggar came this morn through the woods, and, strangely,\nwhen he spied me, asked if there was not one amongst us ill and\nhopeless.\"\n\n\"This beggar--where is he?\"\n\n\"He waits below,\" said Little John, hurriedly. \"I bethought me to talk\nwith Stuteley on the matter. The beggar told me that the Abbess of\nKirklees had stayed him as he was travelling past her Priory: 'Go to\nHaddon, brother, and there you will find Robin Hood sick unto death. Say\nthat in the woods near by there is one who is practising magic upon him,\nhaving made a little image of Robin Hood. At each change of the moon\nthis rascal doth stick a needle into the waxen heart of this image, and\nso doth Robin slowly die. Tell him that the name of the man is Simeon\nCarfax.'\"\n\n\"Ay, by my soul, but I thought as much. What villainy! What foul\nvillainy! Get me a horse, John, and one each for thyself and Stuteley.\"\n\nThe beggar had gone when they went to the hall. None had offered to stay\nhim. \"Let us go quietly, swiftly,\" said Robin, \"for I feel that my hours\nare short.\"\n\nThey rode all through the day and night, and came upon the Priory in\nearly dawn--a quaint, strange building, surrounded by heavy trees.\n\nThe journey and fierce excitement told upon Robin. His wound was beating\nred-hot irons into his heart; hardly could they get him from his horse\nto the gate of Kirklees.\n\nStuteley rang the bell loudly, and anon the door was opened by a woman\nshrouded in black. She spoke in a cold low voice. \"Is this Robin Earl of\nHuntingdon?\" asked she. \"I pray God that it may be true, for at this\nmoment the wizard is meditating his very death.\"\n\n\"Tell us where this miscreant doth make his sorcery, good mother,\" cried\nStuteley and Little John together, \"and not all the magic in the world\nshall save him from our swords!\"\n\n\"Go out yonder to the left, where ye will find a little stream; near by\nit is a tree blasted by Heaven's fires. Under the tree is the man\nCarfax[A]--I have watched and known him for many days. Go quickly, and I\nwill tend your master. See, already he swoons--the hour is very nigh!\"\n\n[Footnote A: Carfax was then actually in France, acting against\nRichard.]\n\nThe two men gave Robin into her keeping, with a fury of impatience;\nthen, with brandished swords, ran swiftly in search of the wizard. Robin\nhad swooned, and lay a dead weight in the arms of the Prioress.\n\nWith amazing strength and tenderness she lifted his slight body and bore\nit to a little room, near to the entrance of the Priory. She laid the\nunconscious man upon a couch, then hastily bared his right arm.\n\nShe paused an instant to throw back her hood; then taking the scissors\nof her chatelaine, suddenly and resolutely gashed the great artery in\nhis arm. He gave a cry of pain and started up. \"Be still, be still,\" she\nmuttered, soothing him. \"The pain is naught, it will cure thee--lie back\nand sleep--sleep.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" he asked, feebly, and with swimming eyes. Then blackness\ncame upon him again, and he fell back upon the couch. Out of the night\nof pain the cold face of the demoiselle Marie smiled mockingly at him!\n\nShe raised herself and softly withdrew. As she locked the door upon him\nshe smiled thinly, wickedly. \"So, Robin--at last, Robin,\" she murmured,\n\"I am avenged.\"\n\nTwo hours later Little John returned. Behind him was Stuteley, anxious\nand ashamed. They had found a man in the woods, and had killed him\ninstantly, in their blind rage, only to discover then that he was but a\nyeoman, and not him whom they sought.\n\n\"I did hear my master's horn, mother,\" cried Little John, when the\nPrioress had opened the wicket to them. \"Three blasts it gave.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE PASSING OF ROBIN HOOD\n\n_Leaning heavily against Little John's sobbing breast, Robin Hood flew\nhis last arrow out through the window, far away into the deep green of\ntrees._]\n\n\"'Twas the wind in the trees,\" said she, serenely. \"He sleeps.\" She\nprepared to close the wicket quietly. \"Disturb him not.\"\n\nBut Little John was alarmed and began to fear a trap. With his sword he\nhewed and hacked at the stout oak door, whilst Stuteley sought to prise\nit open.\n\nWhen it yielded they rushed in upon a sorry scene. Robin lay by the\nwindow in a pool of blood, his face very white.\n\n\"A boon, a boon!\" cried Little John, with the tears streaming from his\neyes. \"Let me slay this wretch and burn her body in the ruins of this\nplace.\"\n\nHis master answered him with a voice from the grave: \"'Twas always my\npart never to hurt a woman, John. I will not let you do so now. Look to\nmy wishes, both of you. Marian's grave--it is to be kept well and\nhonorably. And my two sons--but Geoffrey will care for them. For me,\ndear hearts, bury me near by, in some quiet grave. I could not bear\nanother journey.\"\n\nThey sought to lift him up. \"Give me my bow,\" said Robin, suddenly, \"and\na good true shaft.\" He took them from Stuteley's shaking hands, and,\nleaning heavily against Little John's sobbing breast, Robin Hood flew\nhis last arrow out through the window, far away into the deep green of\nthe trees.\n\nA swift remembrance lit up the dying man's face. \"Ah, well,\" he cried,\n\"Will o' th' Green--you knew! Marian, my heart ... and that day when\nfirst we met, beside the fallen deer! And she is gone, and my last arrow\nis flown.... It is the end, Will----\" He fell back into Little John's\narms. \"Bury me, gossips,\" he murmured, faintly, \"where my arrow hath\nfallen. There lay a green sod under my head and another beneath my feet,\nand let my bow be at my side.\"\n\nHis voice became presently silent, as though something had snapped\nwithin him. His head dropped gently upon Little John's shoulder.\n\n\"He sleeps,\" whispered Stuteley, again and again, trying to make himself\nbelieve it was so. \"He is asleep, Little John--let us lay him quietly\nupon his bed.\"\n\nSo died Robin Fitzooth, first Earl of Huntingdon, under treacherous\nhands. Near by Kirklees Abbey they laid to his last rest this bravest of\nall brave men--the most fearless champion of freedom that the land had\never known.\n\nRobin Hood is dead, and no man can say truly where his grave may be. At\nthe least it but holds his bones. His name lives in our ballads, our\nhistory, our hearts--so long as the English tongue is known.","title":"Robin Hood","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":92908}