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Robin Hood

by Paul Creswick · English · Gutenberg #28700 · 535,578 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Robin Hood

Author: Paul Creswick

Illustrator: N. C. Wyeth


        
Release date: May 6, 2009 [eBook #28700]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28700

Credits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
        Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROBIN HOOD ***




Produced by Juliet Sutherland and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









ROBIN HOOD

ILLUSTRATED BY N. C. WYETH

[Illustration]

DAVID MCKAY, PUBLISHER

PHILADELPHIA MCMXVII




ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                             Facing Page

  ROBIN AND HIS MOTHER GO TO NOTTINGHAM FAIR                          18
    The road wound in and about the forest, and at noon they
    came to a part where the trees nigh shut out the sky

  ROBIN WRESTLES WILL STUTELEY AT GAMEWELL                            53
    "Catch him by the middle," he shouted. "Now you have
    him, lording, fairly. Throw him prettily!" And sure enough
    Stuteley came down

  ROBIN MEETS MAID MARIAN                                            116
    But Robin, venturing all, drew nigh. He came to the edge of
    her box, and began to speak

  ROBIN HOOD AND HIS COMPANIONS LEND AID TO WILL O' TH' GREEN
  FROM AMBUSH                                                        156
    Their arrows flew together, marvellous shots, each finding
    its prey

  LITTLE JOHN FIGHTS WITH THE COOK IN THE SHERIFF'S HOUSE            197
    At last he made a dart upon Roger and the chase grew furious.
    Dishes, plates, covers, pots and pans--all that came in
    the way of them went flying

  ROBIN HOOD DEFEATS NAT OF NOTTINGHAM AT QUARTER-STAFF              257
    The beggar dealt his foe a back-thrust so neatly, so heartily,
    and so swiftly that Nat was swept off the stage into the crowd
    as a fly off a table

  LITTLE JOHN SINGS A SONG AT THE BANQUET                            327
    That evening, whilst Monceux raged and stormed without,
    they all sat to a great feast

  THE PASSING OF ROBIN HOOD                                          361
    Leaning heavily against Little John's sobbing breast, Robin
    Hood flew his last arrow out through the window, far away
    into the deep green of trees




ROBIN HOOD AND HIS ADVENTURES




CHAPTER I


"Well, Robin, on what folly do you employ yourself? Do you cut sticks
for our fire o' mornings?" Thus spoke Master Hugh Fitzooth, King's
Ranger of the Forest at Locksley, as he entered his house.

Robin flushed a little. "These are arrows, sir," he announced, holding
one up for inspection.

Dame Fitzooth smiled upon the boy as she rose to meet her lord. "What
fortune do you bring us to-day, father?" asked she, cheerily.

Fitzooth's face was a mask of discontent. "I bring myself, dame,"
answered he, "neither more nor less."

"Surely that is enough for Robin and me!" laughed his wife. "Come, cast
off your shoes, and give me your bow and quiver. I have news for you,
Hugh, even if you have none for us. George of Gamewell has sent his
messenger to-day, and bids me bring Robin to him for the Fair." She
hesitated to give the whole truth.

"That cannot be," began the Ranger, hastily; then checked himself. "What
wind is it that blows our Squire's friendship toward me, I wonder?" he
went on. "Do we owe him toll?"

"You are not fair to George Montfichet, Hugh--he is an open, honest
man, and he is my brother." The dame spoke with spirit, being vexed that
her husband should thus slight her item of news. "That Montfichet is of
Norman blood is sufficient to turn your thoughts of him as sour as old
milk----"

"I am as good as all the Montfichets and De Veres hereabout, dame, for
all I am but plain Saxon," returned Fitzooth, crossly, "and the day may
come when they shall know it. Athelstane the Saxon might make full as
good a King, when Henry dies, as Richard of Acquitaine, with his
harebrained notions and runagate religion. There would be bobbing of
heads and curtseying to us then, if you like. Squire George of Gamewell
would be sending messengers for me cap in hand--doubt it not."

"For that matter, there is ready welcome for you now at my brother's
house," said Mistress Fitzooth, repenting of her sharpness at once.
"Montfichet bade us _all_ to Gamewell; but here is his scroll, and you
may read it for yourself." She took a scroll from her bosom as she spoke
and offered it to her husband.

He returned to the open door that he might read it. His brow puckered
itself as he strove to decipher the flourished Norman writing. "I have
no leisure now for this screed, mother; read it to me later, an you
will."

His tone was kinder again, for he saw how Robin had been busying himself
in these last few moments. "Let us sup, mother. I dare swear we all are
hungry after the heat of the day."

"I have made and tipped a full score of arrows, sir; will you see them?"
asked Robin.

"That will I, so soon as I have found the bottom of this pasty. Sit
yourselves, mother and Robin, and we'll chatter afterwards."

Robin helped his mother to kindle the flax whereby the dim and
flickering tapers might be lighted. His fingers were more deft at this
business, it would seem, than in the making of arrows. Fitzooth, in the
intervals of his eating, took up Robin's arrows one by one and had some
shrewd gibe ready for most of them. Of the score only five were allowed
to pass; the rest were tossed contemptuously into the black hearth on to
the little heap of smouldering fire.

"By my heart, Robin, but I shall never make a proper bowman of you! Were
ever such shafts fashioned to fit across cord and yew!"

"The arrows are pretty enough, Hugh," interposed the dame.

"There 'tis!" cried Fitzooth, triumphantly. "The true bowman's hand
showeth not in the _prettiness_ of an arrow, mother, but in the
straightness and hardness of the wand. Our Robin can fly a shaft right
well, I grant you, and I have no question for his skill, but he cannot
yet make me an arrow such as I love."

"Well, I do think them right handsomely done," said Mistress Fitzooth,
unconvinced. "It is not given to everyone to make such arrows as you
can, husband; but my Robin has other accomplishments. He can play upon
the harp sweetly, and sing you a good song----"

Fitzooth must still grumble, however. "I would rather your fingers
should bend the bow than pluck at harp-strings, Robin," growled he.
"Still, there is time for all things. Read me now our brother's
message."

Robin, eager to atone for the faults of his arrows, stretched out the
paper upon the table, and read aloud the following:--

     "From George à Court Montfichet, of the Hall at Gamewell, near
     Nottingham, Squire of the Hundreds of Sandwell and Sherwood, giving
     greetings and praying God's blessing on his sister Eleanor and on
     her husband, Master Hugh Fitzooth, Ranger of the King's Forest at
     Locksley. Happiness be with you all. I do make you this screed in
     the desire that you will both of you ride to me at Gamewell, in the
     light of to-morrow, the fifth day of June, bringing with you our
     young kinsman Robin. There is a Fair toward at Nottingham for three
     days of this week, and we are to expect great and astonishing
     marvels to be performed at it.

     "Wherefore, seeing that it will doubtless give him satisfaction and
     some knowledge (for who can witness wonders without being the wiser
     for them?), fail not to present yourselves as I honestly wish. I
     also ask that Robin shall stay with me for the space of one year at
     least, having no son _now_ and being a lonely man. Him will I treat
     as my own child in all ways, and return him to you in the June of
     next year.

     "This I send by the hand of Warrenton, my man-at-arms, who shall
     bear me your reply.

     "Given under our hand at Gamewell, the 4th day of June, in the year
     of grace one thousand one hundred and eighty-eight.

  "(Signed) MONTFICHET."



Robin's clear voice ceased, and silence fell upon them all. Fitzooth
guessed that both his son and wife waited anxiously for his decision;
yet he had so great a pride that he could not at once agree to the
courteous invitation.

For himself he had no doubt. Nothing would move Fitzooth to mix with the
fine folk of Nottingham whilst his claims to the acres of Broadweald, in
Lancashire, went unrecognized. It was an old story, and although, by
virtue of his office as Ranger at Locksley, Hugh Fitzooth might very
properly claim an honorable position in the county, he swore not to
avail himself of it unless he could have a better one. The bar sinister
stayed him from Broadweald, so the judges had said, and haughty Fitzooth
had perforce to bear with their finding. The king had been much
interested in the suit, the estate being a large one, situated in the
County Palatine of England, and the matter had caused some stir in the
Court. When Fitzooth had failed, Henry, anxious to find favor with his
Saxon subjects, had bestowed on him the keeping of a part of the forest
of Sherwood, in Nottingham.

So Fitzooth, plain "master" now for good and aye, had come to Locksley,
a little village at the further side of the forest, and had taken up the
easy duties allotted to him. Here he had nursed his pride in loneliness
for some years; then had met one day Eleanor Montfichet a-hunting in the
woods. He had unbent to her, and she gave him her simple, true heart.

Strange pair, thrown together by Fate, in sooth; yet no man could say
that this was an unhappy union. Within a year came black-eyed Robin to
them, and they worshipped their child. But as time passed, and Hugh's
claims were again put aside, his nature began to go sour once more. Now
they were lonely, unfriendly folk, with no society other than that of
the worthy Clerk of Copmanhurst--a hermit too. He had taught Robin his
Latin grace, and had given him a fair knowledge of Norman, Saxon, and
the middle tongues.

"Say that we all may go to-morrow, father," cried Robin, breaking the
silence. "I have never seen Nottingham Fair, sir, and you have promised
to take me often."

"I cannot leave this place; for there is my work, and robbers are to be
found even here. I have to post my foresters each day in their tasks,
and see that the deer be not killed and stolen."

He paused, and then, noting the disappointment in his son's face,
relented. "Yet, since there is the Fair, and I have promised it, Robin,
you shall go with your mother to Gamewell, if so be the Friar of
Copmanhurst can go also. So get ready your clothes, for I know that you
would wish to be at your best in our brother's hall. I will speed you
to-morrow so far as Copmanhurst, and will send two hinds to serve you to
Nottingham gates."

"Warrenton, my brother's man, spoke grievously of the outlaw bands near
Gamewell, and told how he had to journey warily," So spoke Mistress
Fitzooth, trying yet to bring her husband to say that he too would go.

"The Sheriff administers his portion of the forest very abominably
then," returned Fitzooth. "We have no fears and whinings here; but I do
not doubt that Warrenton chattered with a view to test our courage, or
perchance to make more certain of my refusal."

"But we _are_ to go, are we not, sir?" Robin was anxious again, for his
father's tone had already changed.

"I have said it; and there it ends," said Fitzooth, shortly. "If the
clerk will make the journey you shall make it too. Further, an the
Squire will have you, you shall stay at Gamewell and learn the tricks
and prettinesses of Court and town. But look to your bow for use in
life, and to your own hands and eyes for help. Kiss me, Robin, and get
to bed. Learn all you can; and if Warrenton can show you how to fashion
arrows within the year I'll ask no more of brother George of
Gamewell."

"You shall be proud of me, sir; I swear it. But I will not stay longer
than a month; for I am to watch over my mother's garden."

"Never will shafts such as yours find quarry, Robin. I think that they
would sooner kill the archer than the birds. There, mind not my jesting.
Men shall talk of you; and I may live to hear them. Be just always; and
be honest."

       *       *       *       *       *

The day broke clear and sweet. From Locksley to the borders of Sherwood
Forest was but a stone's cast.

Robin was in high glee, and had been awake long ere daylight. He had
dressed himself in his best doublet, green trunk hose, and pointed
shoes, and had strung and unstrung his bow full a score of times. A
sumpter mule had been saddled to carry the baggage, for the dame had, at
the last moment, discovered a wondrous assortment of fineries and
fripperies that most perforce be translated to Gamewell.

Robin was carolling like any bird.

"Are you glad to be leaving Locksley, my son?" asked Hugh Fitzooth.

"Ay, rarely!"

"'Tis a dull place, no doubt. And glad to be leaving home too?"

"No, sir; only happy at the thought of the Fair. Doubt it not that I
shall be returned to you long ere a month is gone."

"A year, Robin, a year! Twelve changing months ere you will see me
again. I have given my word now. Keep me a place in your heart, Robin."

"You have it all now, sir, be sure, and I am not really so glad within
as I seem without."

"Tut, I am not chiding you. Get you upon your jennet, dame; and, Robin,
do you show the way. Roderick and the other shall lead the baggage mule.
Have you pikes with you, men, and full sheaths?"

"I have brought me a dagger, father," cried Robin, joyfully.

So, bravely they set forth from their quiet house at Locksley, and came
within the hour to Copmanhurst. Here only were the ruins of the chapel
and the clerk's hermitage, a rude stone building of two small rooms.

Enclosed with high oaken stakes and well guarded by two gaunt hounds was
the humble abode of the anchorite.

The clerk came to the verge of his enclosure to greet them, and stood
peering above the palisade. "Give you good morrow, father," cried Robin;
"get your steed and tie up the dogs. We go to Nottingham this day and
you are to come with us!"

The monk shook his head. "I may not leave this spot, child, for matters
of vanity," he answered, in would-be solemn tones.

"Will you not ride with the dame and my son, father?" asked Fitzooth.
"George of Gamewell has sent in for Robin, and I wish that you should
journey with him, giving him such sage counsel as may fit him for a
year's service in the great and worshipful company that he now may
meet."

"Come with us to-day, father," urged Mistress Fitzooth also. "I have
brought a veal pasty and some bread, so that we may not be hungry on the
road. Also, there is a flask of wine."

"Nay, daughter, I have no thought for the carnal things of life. I will
go with you, since the Ranger of Locksley orders it. It is my place to
obey him whom the King has put in charge of our greenwood. Bide here
whilst I make brief preparation."

His eyes had twinkled, though, when the dame had spoken; and one could
see that 'twas not on roots and fresh water alone that the clerk had
thrived. Full and round were the lines of him under his monkly gown; and
his face was red as any harvest moon.

Hugh bade farewell briefly to them, while the clerk was tying up his
hounds and chattering with them.

When the clerk was ready Fitzooth kissed his dame and bade her be firm
with their son; then, embracing Robin, ordered him to protect his mother
from all mischance. Also he was to bear himself honorably and quietly;
and, whilst being courteous to all folk, he was not to give way unduly
to anyone who should attempt to browbeat or to cozen him.

"Remember always that your father is a proud man; and see, take those
arrows of my own making and learn from them how to trim the hazel. You
have a steady hand and bold eye; be a craftsman when you return to
Locksley, and I will give you control of some part of the forest, under
me. Now, farewell--take my greetings to our brother at Gamewell."

Then the King's Forester turned on his heel and strode back towards
Locksley. Once he paused and faced about to wave his cap to them: then
his figure vanished into the green of the trees.

A sadness fell upon Robin--unaccountable and perplexing. But the hermit
soberly journeyed toward Nottingham, the two men-at-arms, with the
sumpter mule, riding in front.

The road wound in and about the forest, and at noon they came to a part
where the trees nigh shut out the sky.

Robin spied out a fine old stag, and his fingers itched to fit one of
his new arrows to his bow. "These be all of them King's deer, father?"
he asked the friar, thoughtfully.

"Every beast within Sherwood, royal or mean, belongs to our King,
child."

"Do they not say that Henry is away in a foreign land, father?"

"Ay, but he will return. His deer are not yet to be slain by your
arrows, child. When you are Ranger at Locksley, in your father's stead,
who shall then say you nay?"

"My father does not shoot the King's deer, except those past their
time," answered Robin, quickly. "He tends them, and slays instead any
robbers who would maltreat or kill the does. Do you think I could hit
yon beast, father? He makes a pretty mark, and my arrow would but prick
him?"

[Illustration: ROBIN AND HIS MOTHER GO TO NOTTINGHAM FAIR

_The road wound in and about the forest, and at noon they came to a part
where the trees nigh shut out the sky._]

The clerk glanced toward Mistress Fitzooth. "Dame," said he, gravely,
"do you not think that here, in this cool shadow, we might well stay our
travelling? Surely it is near the hour of noon? And," here he sank his
voice to a sly whisper, "it would be well perhaps to let this temptation
pass away from before our Robin! Else, I doubt not, the King will be one
stag the less in Sherwood."

"I like not this dark road, father," began the dame. "We shall surely
come to a brighter place. Robin, do you ride near to me, and let your
bow be at rest. Warrenton, your uncle's man, told me but yesterday----"

Her voice was suddenly drowned in the noise of a horn, wound so shrilly
and distantly as to cause them all to start. Then, in a moment, half a
score of lusty rascals appeared, springing out of the earth almost. The
men-at-arms were seized, and the little cavalcade brought to a rude
halt.

"Toll, toll!" called out the leader. "Toll must you pay, everyone, ere
your journey be continued!"

"Forbear," cried Robin, waving his dagger so soon as the man made
attempt to take his mother's jennet by the bridle. "Tell me the toll,
and the reason for it; and be more mannerly."

The man just then spied that great stag which Robin had longed to shoot,
bounding away to the left of them. Swiftly he slipped an arrow across
his longbow and winged it after the flying beast.

"A miss, an easy miss!" called Robin, impatiently. Dropping his dagger,
he snatched an arrow from his quiver, fitted it to his bow and sent it
speeding towards the stag. "Had I but aimed sooner!" murmured Robin,
regretfully, when his arrow failed by a yard to reach its quarry; and
the clerk held up his hands in pious horror of his words.

"The shot was a long one, young master," spoke the robber, and he
stooped to pick up Robin's little weapon. "Here is your bodkin--'tis no
fault of yours that the arrow was not true."

They all laughed right merrily; but Robin was vexed.

"Stand away, fellows," said he, "and let us pass on. Else shall you all
be whipped."

Again the leader of the band spoke. "Toll first, lording; tender it
prettily to us, and you shall only tender it once."

"I'll tender it not at all," retorted young Fitzooth. "Fie upon you for
staying a woman upon the King's highroad! Pretty men, forsooth, to
attack in so cowardly a fashion!"

"All must buy freedom of the greenwood, master," answered the man, quite
civilly. "We, who exact the toll, take no heed of sex. Pay us now, and
when you return there shall be no questioning."

"A woman should be a safe convoy and free from all toll," argued Robin.
"Now here are my two men."

"Slaves, master; and they have only your mule and the two pikes. It is
not enough."

"You will leave us nothing then, it seems," said Dame Fitzooth, in
trembling but brave voice.

"There is one thing that we all do value, mistress, and I purpose
sparing you that. We will do no one of you any bodily harm."

"Take my purse, then," sighed Mistress Fitzooth. "There is little enough
in it, for we are poor folk."

"Ask toll of the Church," cried Robin, staying his mother. "The Church
is rich, and has to spare. And afterwards, she can grant absolution to
you all."

Again the robbers laughed, as the clerk began explaining very volubly to
them that they were welcome to all that Mother Church could on this
occasion offer.

"We know better than to stay a monk for toll," said the robber. "Beside,
would your excellence have us commit sacrilege?"

"I would have you leave hold of my bridle," answered Robin, very
wrathfully.

"Pay the toll cheerfully, youngling," cried one of the others, "and be
not so wordy in the business. We have other folk to visit; the day is
already half gone from Sherwood."

"I will shoot with you for the freedom of the forest," said Robin,
desperately. "An I lose, then shall you take all but my mother's jennet.
She shall be allowed to carry my mother into Gamewell, whilst I remain
here, as hostage, for her return."

"Let the dame bring back a hundred crowns in each of her hands, then,"
replied the chief of the robbers.

"It is agreed," answered Robin, after one appealing glance towards the
dame. "Now help me down from my horse, and let the clerk see fair play.
Set us a mark, good father, and pray Heaven to speed my arrows
cunningly."

The clerk, who had kept himself much in the background, now spoke. "This
wager seems to savor of unholiness, friends," said he, solemnly. "Yet,
in that it also smacks of manliness, I will even consent to be judge.
You, sir, since you are doubtless well acquainted with the part, can
speak for distance. Now, I do appoint the trunk of yon birch-tree as
first mark in this business."

"Speed your arrow, then, lording," laughed the robber, gaily. "'Tis but
forty ells away! I will follow you respectfully, never doubt it."

Robin bent his bow and trained his eyes upon the birch.

Then suddenly came back upon him his father's words: "Remember that I am
a proud man, Robin."

"I will," muttered Robin, betwixt set teeth, and he aimed with all his
heart and soul in it. There came the twang of the bowstring, and the
next moment the gooseshaft was flying towards its mark.

"A pretty shot, master," said the robber, glancing carelessly towards
the arrow, quivering still in the trunk of the birch-tree. "But you have
scarce taken the centre of our mark. Let me see if I may not mend your
aim."

His arrow sang through the summer air, and took root fairly in the
middle of the trunk, side by side with Robin's.

"You win first round, friend," said the clerk, with seeming reluctance.
"Now, listen, both, whilst I make you a better test." He was about to
continue, when an interruption occurred one that saved him necessity of
further speech.




CHAPTER II


Suddenly through the greenwood came full four score of the King's
Foresters, running towards the robbers, ready to seize them.

These were the foresters of Nottingham, roving far afield. The Sheriff
of Nottingham had become angered at the impudent robberies of late, and
now all of his foresters had spread themselves about Sherwood in the
hope of making such a capture of the outlaws as would please their
master and bring substantial reward to themselves. On the head of Will
o' th' Green, the chief of the band, was set the price of ten golden
crowns.

But alas! these crowns were still to seek; for Will o' th' Green, at
first hint of the danger, had put his horn to his lips and given a long,
low call upon it, and next instant not a robber was to be seen.

Each man had dropped to his hands and knees as soon as he had reached
the bushes; and the foresters might beat and belabor Mother Sherwood in
vain, for she would never betray her children.

Fitzooth's men-at-arms were glad to be released, and were eager now to
give all information against their assailants. One of the fellows swore
roundly that the learned clerk had given Will o' th' Green a very plain
hint; but this assertion was most properly put aside by all who heard
it.

Robin gave his story of the business, and then, having thanked the
captain of the foresters, would have continued the journey. The clerk
was no longer to be denied, however, from his food: and so it came about
that presently the four of them were at a meal together under the
trees--the captain of the foresters having agreed to join with Robin,
the hermit, and Mistress Fitzooth in an attack upon the good wine and
pasty which the latter had provided.

The foresters returned in twos and threes from their fruitless search,
and stood about in little knots discussing the chase. All agreed that
the outlaws had some stronghold underground, with many entrances and
ways into it; easily to be found by those in the secret, but impossible
of passage to persons in pursuit.

"Do you go to Gamewell, friends?" asked the captain, after the meal had
been finished. When he had been answered yes, he told Mistress Fitzooth
that she might have an escort for the rest of the way; since he and his
men must travel to Gamewell themselves, to report the encounter to
Squire George of Gamewell.

Gladly Mistress Fitzooth heard this, and very cheerfully they all
started afresh upon the journey.

Robin alone was sad; the fact that the robber chief's arrow had flown
more near a woodman's mark than his own rankled within his breast.

Ah, but a time would come when Master Will o' th' Green should see
better archery than he now dreamed of. And Robin should be the master
who would teach the lesson.

Building such day-dreams, he cantered quietly enough beside his mother's
jennet; whilst the clerk and the captain of the foresters chattered
amiably together. The dame listened to their gossip, and put in her own
word and question; she had an easy mind now and could give herself to
talk of Prince John and his impudent rebellion.

"So the barons would really make him King?" asked she, round-eyed: "King
of all these lands and forests?"

"Some of our barons have sworn so much," answered the forester, lightly;
"but men speak best with their swords, dame. Have you not heard of young
Montfichet's doings? He has undone himself indeed----"

"Waldemar Fitzurse is behind it all, and young De Brocy," the clerk
interrupted, loudly, giving him a warning glance.

The friar pointed to Robin. "'Tis the lad's cousin, and he does not know
of Geoffrey Montfichet's outlawry," he whispered.

"Some say that the King will establish an assize of arms on his return
from France, whereby every knight, freeholder, and burgess must arm
himself for England's defense," continued the clerk, easily. "'Tis a
pretty notion, and like our King."

"There are tales about our Henry, and ballads more than enough," replied
the forester, shrugging his shoulders. "Will o' th' Green knows a good
one, I am told."

At the mention of the outlaw's name Robin pricked up his ears. He asked
many questions concerning Master Will; and learned that he had been
outlawed by Henry himself for the accidental slaying of a younger
brother in a quarrel years since. Before that he had been a dutiful and
loyal subject, and there were some who vowed that Master Will was as
loyal now as many of Henry's barons. Will shot the King's deer, truly,
but only that he might live: the others conspired against their
monarch's honor, in order that their own might be increased.

The cavalcade came into sight of Gamewell Hall while still at this
gossip. The night was falling and lights burned behind the embrasured
windows of the castle, for such it was in truth, being embattled and
surrounded properly by a moat and heavy walls.

The captain wound his horn to such purpose that the bridge was soon
lowered, and the whole party began to trot over it into the wide
courtyard before the hall. That it was a very magnificent place was
apparent, despite the shadows.

Before the door of the hall Robin sprang lightly from his horse and ran
to help his mother from her saddle with tender care: then moved to give
assistance to the clerk. The latter had bundled himself to firm ground,
however, and now stood stolidly expectant.

Master Montfichet--George of Gamewell, as the country folk called him
mostly--had come down to greet his guests, and was waiting upon them ere
Robin could turn about. The Squire was an old man, with white hair
curling from under a little round cap. He wore long black robes, loose
and rather monkish in their fashion. He seemed as unlike his sister as
Robin could well imagine, besides being so much more advanced in years.
His face was hairless and rather pale; but his eyes shone brightly.
There was a very pleasant expression in the lines about his mouth, and
his manner was perfect. He embraced Robin with kindliness; and real
affection for his sister seemed to underlie his few words of welcome. To
the Friar of Copmanhurst he was so courteous and respectful that Robin
began to wonder whether he himself had ever properly regarded the clerk
in the past. If so great a man should bow to him, what ought Robin to
do? Robin remembered that he had often ventured to rally and tease this
good-natured master who had taught him his letters.

The Squire bade them follow him, so soon as their horses and baggage had
been duly given over to the servants and he had heard the forester's
complaint against the outlaws. The Squire made little comment, but
frowned.

At the conclusion of the captain's report, they came into the hall,
lighted by a thousand fat tapers.

"Sister Nell--do you please dismiss us," said the Squire, in his courtly
way, after he had signed to some waiting-maids to take charge of
Mistress Fitzooth. "I will lead Robin to his chamber myself, and show
him the arrangement we have made for his stay at Gamewell. Supper will
be served us here in less than an hour. Father, your apartments shall be
near my own. Come with me, also."

In the room allotted to him Robin found new and gay clothes laid out
upon a fair, white bed, with a little rush mat beside it. A high
latticed window looked out upon the court, and there was a bench in the
nook, curiously carven and filled with stuffs and naperies the like of
which Robin had never seen before.

The walls were hung with tapestries, and very fierce and amazing were
the pictures embroidered upon them. The ceiling was low and raftered
with polished beams. Behind the door was a sword suspended by a leathern
belt.

"For you, kinsman," the Squire had said, smilingly.

Robin lost no time in doffing his green jerkin and hose, and then he
washed himself and eagerly essayed his new habiliments. When the sword
had been buckled on, our young hero of Locksley felt himself equal to
Will o' th' Green or any other gallant in Christendom.

He strode along the corridors and found his way back to the great hall.
There the Master of Gamewell and his mother awaited him. Mistress
Fitzooth's eyes shone approvingly, and Robin slipped his fingers into
hers.

"I'll build a castle as fine as this, mother mine, one of these days,"
Robin told her: and he began to ask Master Montfichet questions as to
the number of claims-at-law that he must have won in order to hold so
splendid a domain. The Squire smilingly told him that the King had given
Gamewell to him as a reward for valor in battle many years agone.

"Then will I fight for the King," cried Robin, with flashing eyes, "so
that I may win my father Broadweald and all the lands of it."

"And I will teach you, Robin: be sure of that," said old George
Montfichet. "But your sword must be swung for the right King, harkee.
Not for rebellious princes will we cry to arms; but for him whom God
hath placed over us--Henry the Angevin."

"Amen," murmured the clerk, fervently. "Let law and order be respected
always."

"It may mean much to you, friar," said Montfichet. "Young John has the
Priory of York under his hands."

"He has not fingers upon Sherwood, and we are free of it!" cried the
clerk. Then he hastily corrected himself. "We hermits can have no fear,
since we have no wealth. Happy then the man with naught to lose, and who
has a contented mind."

"I will be free of Sherwood Forest, father, if that boon shall wait upon
my archery. Master Will, the robber, swore that if I beat him, sir"--he
had turned his bright face to old Gamewell's--"I should go free of the
greenwood. And I will win the right."

"'Tis scarcely Will's to grant," frowned the Squire; "yet, in a way, he
has control of the forest. It is a matter which I will look to, since
the Sheriff seems so fearful of him," he added, significantly.




CHAPTER III


The next day they journeyed quietly into Nottingham, taking only a few
retainers with them. The clerk chose to stay at the hall, fearing, as he
said, that his eyes would be offended with the vanity of the town.

When they had come to the meadows wherein the Fair was held, Robin was
overcome with joy at the sight of the wonderments before him.

That which most pleased him was the tumbling and wrestling of a company
of itinerant players, merry fellows, all in a great flutter of tinsel
and noise. They were father and three sons, and while the old man blew
vigorously upon some instrument, the three sons amused themselves and
the crowd by cutting capers.

Again and again did Robin entice Master Montfichet to return to these
strollers. It was the wrestling that most moved him, for they put such
heart into it as to make the thing seem real. "Give them another penny,
sir," requested Robin, with heightened color. "Nay, give them a silver
one. Did you ever see the like? The little one has the trick of it, for
sure ... I do believe that he will throw the elder in the next bout."

"Will you try a turn with me, young master?" asked the little stroller,
overhearing these words, "If you can stand twice to me, I'll teach you
the trick and more besides."

"Nay, nay," said the Squire, hastily. "We have no leisure for such
play, Robin. Your mother is waiting for us at yonder booth. Let us go to
her."

Robin turned away reluctantly. "I do think I could stand twice to him.
The grass is dry within the ring, sir--do you think I should hurt my
clothes?"

Such pleading as this moved the capricious old Master of Gamewell.
Although it was scarce a proper thing for one of gentle blood to mix
with these commoners, yet the Squire could not forego his own appetite
for sport. He turned about to the strollers: "I will give a purse of
silver pennies to the one who wins the next bout," said he. "Let any and
all be welcome to the ring, and the bout shall be one of three falls.
Challenge anyone in Nottingham; I dare swear some lad will be found who
shall show you how to grip and throw."

The father of the players struck a most pompous attitude and blew three
piercing blasts. "Come one, come all!" cried he. "Here be the three
great wrestlers from Cumberland, where wrestling is practised by every
lad and man! Here are the wrestlers who have beaten all in their own
county, and who now seek to overcome other champions! Oyez, oyez! There
is a prize of twenty silver pennies to be handed to the winner of the
next bout (did you say twenty or thirty pennies, lording?). Come one,
come all--the lads from Cumberland challenge you!"

"Now let me wrestle for the pence, sir," pleaded Robin, catching hold of
the Squire's sleeve. "Why should not I try to win them? They might
become the foundation of that fortune which I would have for my father's
sake."

"Twenty pennies would buy him little of Broadweald, boy," laughed the
Squire. "Nor should a Montfichet struggle in the mob for vulgar gain.
You are a Montfichet--remember it--on your mother's side. We will see
how they fare, these men of Cumberland, against the lads of Nottingham
and Sherwood. Here comes one in answer to the challenge."

A thin, pale-faced fellow had claimed the purse whilst the Squire had
been speaking. "'Tis yours if you can take it," answered the old
stroller, as he and his lads cleared the ring. A great crowd of folk
gathered about, and Montfichet and Robin were in danger of being jostled
into the background.

"Stand here beside me, lording," commanded the stroller. "Do you keep
back there, impudent dogs! This is the noble who gives the purse. There
shall be no purse at all, an you harry us so sorely. Stand back, you and
you!" He pushed back the mob with vigorous thrusts. "Now let the best
man win."

The two lads had stripped to their waists, and were eyeing each other
warily. The Nottingham youth, despite his slimness, showed clean and
muscular against the swarthy thick-set boy from Cumberland. They
suddenly closed in and clutched each other, then swayed uncertainly from
side to side. The crowd cheered madly.

The competitors for Montfichet's purse were evenly matched in strength:
it remained for one of them to throw the other by means of some trick or
feint. The stroller tried a simple ruse, and nigh lost his feet in doing
it.

"You must show us a better attempt than that, Cumberland!" called out
someone. Robin, quick-eared to recognize a voice, turned his head
instantly, and in time to catch a glimpse of Will o' th' Green, the
robber of Sherwood!

Seeing Robin's gaze fixed upon him, Master Will deemed it prudent to
discreetly withdraw. He nodded boldly to the lad first, however; then
moved slowly away. "Hold fast to him, Nottingham, for your credit's
sake," he cried, ere disappearing.

Meanwhile the wrestlers tugged and strained every nerve. Great beads of
perspiration stood out upon their brows. Neither made any use of the
many common tricks of wrestling: each perceived in the other no usual
foe.

Suddenly the Nottingham lad slipped, or seemed to slip, and instantly
the other gripped him for a throw. Fatal mistake--'twas but a ruse--and
so clear a one as to end the first round. The Nottingham lad recovered
adroitly, and now that the other had his arm low about the enemy's body,
his equipoise was readily disturbed. The stroller felt himself swiftly
thrust downward, and as they both fell together it was he who went
undermost.

"A Nottingham! A Nottingham!" clamored the crowd, approvingly. Then all
prepared themselves for the second round.

This, to Robin's surprise, was ended as soon as begun. The Cumberland
lad knew of a clever grip, and practised it upon the other immediately,
and the Nottingham hero went down heavily.

The third bout was a stubborn match, but fortune decided it at length in
favor of the stroller. Montfichet handed the purse to the winner without
regret. "Spend the money worthily as you have won it, Cumberland,"
spoke the Squire. "Now, Robin, let us join your mother. She will be
weary waiting for us."

"And if your stomach sickens for a fight with me, master, here may I be
found until Saturday at noon." So said the little tumbler, roguishly.
"'Tis a pity that we could not tussle for the purse, eh? but I would
have given your ribs a basting."

"Now shall I twist his ears for him, Squire?" said Robin.

"Nay, boy, let his ears grow longer, as befitteth; then you will have
freer play with them. Come with me to see the miracle-play, and be not
so ready to answer these rascallions. I begin to think that we should
not have gone the round of the shows by ourselves, Master Spitfire.
Travelling unattended with you is too dangerous a business."

Montfichet smiled despite his chidings. He had already taken a fancy to
this high-spirited youth. He walked affectionately, with his hand upon
Robin's shoulder, towards the booth where, with her maids, Mistress
Fitzooth was waiting for them. "Are you sorry for Nottingham, Robin?" he
asked, as they passed by the pale-faced, rueful wrestler. "Then take him
this little purse quietly. Tell him it is for consolation, from a
friend."

Robin gladly performed the task; then, as he returned to the Squire's
side, thought to ask instruction on a point which had perplexed him not
a little. "Yesterday, sir," he began, "when we were in the greenwood,
all men seemed eager to catch the robber chief."

"Well, Robin?"

"To-day he walks about Nottingham Fair, and no one attempts to tarry
him. Why is this, sir? Is the ground sanctuary?"

"Have you spied out Will o' th 'Green indeed?" began Montfichet,
eagerly. "That were hard to believe, for all he is so audacious."

"Truly, sir, I saw him when we were at the wrestling. He peered at me
above the caps of the people."

"Point him out now to me, Robin, if you can." The Squire became
humorously doubtful, and his amusement grew upon him as Robin vainly
searched with his bright eyes about the throng. "No Will o' th' Green is
here, child; he would be a fish out of water, indeed, in Nottingham
town. Dearly would I love to catch him, though."

"Yet I did see him, sir, and he knew me. Now here is my mother, who
shall tell you how long we talked together yesterday. It is not likely
that I would forget his voice."

"Well, well, perhaps you are right," said the Squire. "At any rate,
we'll keep sharp eyes for the rogue. Have you seen the miracle-play,
Sister Nell?" he added now to Mistress Fitzooth.

"I have been waiting here for you," answered she, briefly, "Robin, what
do you think of it all?"

Robin's reply was drowned in the noise of the music made within the
tents. It was so dreadful a din that all were fain to move away.

"See, mother, here is a wizard; let us go in here!" Robin had spied a
dim, mysterious booth, outside of which were triangles and cones and
fiery serpents coming forth from a golden pot, with cabalistic signs
and figures about the sides of it. Standing there was a tall, aged man,
clad in a long red robe and leaning upon a star-capped wand.

"Will you have the stars read to you, lording?" he asked, gravely.

"Ay, surely!" clamored Robin. "Come, mother mine; come, sir, let us ask
him questions of Locksley, and hear what my father may be doing."

"Do you think that you will hear truth, child? Well, have your way. Will
you join us, Nell--the business is a pleasing one, for these knaves have
the tricks of their trade. But harkee, friends, give no real heed to the
mummery."

The wizard ushered them into his tent. Then he dropped the edge of the
canvas over the opening, shrouding them in complete darkness.

The Squire began an angry protest, thinking that now was a good chance
for any confederate to rob them or cut their pockets: but the wizard,
unheeding, struck suddenly upon a small gong. A little blue flame sprang
up from a brazier at the far end of the tent.

In the strange light one could now see the furniture and appurtenances
of this quaint place. They were curious enough, although few in number.
A globe, and a small table covered with a black cloth; a bench strewn
with papers and parchments; and a skeleton of an ape, terribly deformed,
were the chief items of the collection.

A curtain concealed part of the tent. Behind the brazier were hanging
shelves covered with little bottles and phials. The wizard stretched
his wand out towards the dancing blue flame, and it forthwith leaped up
into a golden glory.

"Approach, Robin, son of Fitzooth the Ranger," commanded the wizard.
"Place your hand upon the globe and look down upon this table." He
pushed away the black cloth, showing that the center of the table was
made of flat green glass. "Look steadily, and tell me what you see."

"I see through it the grass of the ground on which we stand," said
Robin. "There is naught else."

"Look again, Robin of Locksley."

Robin strained his eyes in the hope of discovering something of mystery.
But the flat glass was clear and disappointing.

"Let me take your place, Robin," said Mistress Fitzooth, impatiently.

But now the green of the glass began to fade; and it seemed to become
opaque and misty. Robin dimly saw in it a sudden miniature picture of a
glade in the forest of Sherwood, the trees moving under a south-west
wind, and the grasses and flowers bowing together and trembling.

It seemed to be summer; the bracken was high and green. A man, clad in
doublet and hose of Lincoln green, strode forward into the center of the
picture. He was a slim fellow, not over tall, with a likeable face,
bearded and bronzed; and a forester, too, if one might judge by the
longbow which he carried. He wore no badge nor mark of servitude,
however, and walked as a free man. His face, vaguely familiar, wore an
expectant look. He turned his glances right and left. A low call sounded
from the bushes on his left. Robin could hear it as a sound afar off.

The man cautiously moved towards the verge of the glade, and as he did
so there came a shower of light laughter from the undergrowth. Pushing
aside the bracken came forth two arms; a merry face appeared; then,
quick as a flash, upstood a page, gaily clad, with black curly hair and
strange eyes.

The man opened his arms to the lad, and then Robin saw that 'twas no boy
at all. It was a maid, joyous with life, playing such a prank as this
that she might bring herself to her true love's side.

Robin watched them delightedly. In some way he knew that in this
mirrored picture _he_ was concerned to a curious degree; and when a cold
cloud passing above the glade took the sun and the light from it Robin
felt an intense anxiety.

"Can you see aught now, Robin of the Woods?" murmured the soft voice of
the wizard, and Robin would have asked him who was the man, if his
tongue had been at command.

His eyes took all the strength of his brain. They waited furiously for
the cloud to pass.

When all had become clear again the man was alone. His face was
sorrowful, ill, and old. He was fitting an arrow to his bow, and his
hand trembled as his fingers drew the string. He drew it slowly, almost
wearily, yet with a practised gesture. Robin, watching him, saw the
arrow leap forth from the picture.

"He is dying and shoots his last arrow--is it not so?" he uttered
thickly, striving to understand.

While he spoke the vision faded and was gone.




CHAPTER IV


Robin started back angrily and faced the Squire. He began a confused
complaint against the wizard, who had vanished behind the curtain on the
left. Master Montfichet shrugged his shoulders indulgently.

"Give not so earnest a mind to these mummeries, child. 'Twas all a
trick! What did you see? A golden fortune and a happy life?"

"I did see a man, sir, dressed all in Lincoln green. He was like unto my
father, in a way, and yet was not my father. Also there was a stripling
page, who turned into a maid. Very beautiful she was, and I would know
her again in any guise."

"Ah, Master Robin, have you eyes for the maids already?"

"This was so sweet a lady, sir, and in some manner I do think she died.
And the man shot an arrow, meaning me to see where it fell, since there
would be her grave. That is what I think he meant. But then the picture
was gone as quickly as it came."

"Sister Nell, do you hear these marvels? Take your place and let us see
what the crystal can show to you. Most worthy conjurer of dreams, take
up your wand again: we all are waiting impatiently to know what is in
store for us!"

"These things are true that the glass mirror shows, lording," answered
the wizard, reappearing. "The crystal cannot lie."

He spoke unwittingly in a natural key. Robin turned round upon him very
shrewdly.

"Friend wizard," said the youth, half at random, "have you ever played
at archery in that greenwood which your glass showed us so prettily?"

"Like as not, young master, though I am an old man."

"Fie on you, friend!" cried Robin, exulting in a sudden discovery.
"Remember that the crystal cannot lie. It tells me now that you and I
will meet in rivalry, to shoot together for a strange prize--the freedom
of Sherwood!"

The wizard hastily drew near and pretended to peer into the glass. "What
would you do?" he whispered, fiercely.

"I can be generous, Will o' th' Green," spoke back Robin, quite sure
now. "Keep your secret, for I will not betray you."

At this moment there uprose without the booth a most deafening tumult.
Forthwith all ran to the opening of the tent to see what might be amiss;
but Master Will, who peeped out first, needed no more than one glance.
He gave way to the others very readily and retreated unperceived by the
Squire and Mistress Fitzooth to the rear of the tent.

Cries of: "A Nottingham! A Nottingham!" rent the air, and added to the
clangor of bells and trumpetings. As the Squire and Robin looked forth
they beheld a flying crowd of men and women, all running and shouting.

Before them fled the stroller and his three sons, capless and terrified.
The old man's triangle had been torn from him and was being jangled now
by Nottingham fingers.

"There is trouble before us. Come, Robin," said Montfichet, as he
stepped out, with the lad close at his heels.

"What is the tumult and rioting?" cried out the Squire, authoritatively,
and he blew twice on a silver whistle which hung at his belt.

The strollers rushed at once toward the old man, and faced their enemies
resolutely when they had gained his side. They were out of breath, and
their story was a confused one.

The little tumbler recovered first. After the Squire had left them, he
said, the Nottingham lad had returned with full a score of riotous
apprentices, all armed with cudgels. They had demanded a fresh trial of
skill for the Squire's purse of pennies.

"Which was denied us in most vile words, lording," cried out one from
the crowd, which had come to a halt and was now formed in an angry
sheepish ring about the front of the wizard's tent.

"Nay, we refused their request most politely, most noble," said the
little stroller. "And then they became vexed, and would have snatched
your purse from us. So my brother did stow the pennies quickly into his
wallet, and, giving me the purse----"

"You flung it full in my face!" roared the Nottingham wrestler, pushing
his way to the front, "you little viper, so I snatched at him to give
him the whipping he deserved, when----"

"I could not see my boy injured, excellence, for but doing his duty as
one of Cumberland's sons. So I did push this fellow."

"It is enough," said George Gamewell, sharply, and he turned upon the
crowd. "Shame on you, citizens," cried he; "I blush for my fellows of
Nottingham. Is this how you play an English game: to force your rivals
to lose to you any way? Cumberland has won my purse: the test was fairly
set, and fairly were we conquered. Surely we can submit with good
grace."

"'Tis fine for you to talk, old man," answered the lean, sullen
apprentice. "But _I_ wrestled with this fellow and do know that he
played unfairly in the second bout. Else had I not gone down at the
clutch, as all did see."

"Insolent!" spoke the Squire, losing all patience; "and it was to _you_
that I gave another purse in consolation! Go your ways ere I cause you
to be more soundly whipped than your deserts, which should bring heavy
enough punishment, for sure. Come to me, men, here, here!" He raised his
voice still louder. "A Montfichet! A Montfichet!" he called; and the
Gamewell men who had answered to his first whistling, now lustily threw
themselves upon the back of the mob.

Instantly all was uproar and confusion, worse than when they first had
been startled from the wizard's tent. The Nottingham apprentices struck
out savagely with their sticks, hitting friend and foe alike. The
burgesses and citizens were not slow to return these blows, and a fierce
battle was commenced.

The strollers took their part in it with hearty zest now that they had
some chance of beating off their foes. Robin and the little tumbler
between them tried to force the Squire to stand back, and very valiantly
did these two comport themselves.

The head and chief of the riot, the Nottingham apprentice, with clenched
fists, threatened Montfichet. Robin and the little stroller sprang upon
the wretch and bore him to the ground. The three rolled over and over
each other, punching and pummelling when and where they might. Robin at
last got fairly upon the back of their enemy and clung desperately to
him; whilst the stroller essayed to tie the man's hands with his own
garters.

The riot increased, for all were fighting now in two great parties;
townsfolk against apprentices. The din and shouting were appalling.
Robin and the little tumbler between them rolled their captive into the
wizard's tent.

The Squire helped to thrust them all in and entered swiftly himself.
Then he pulled down the flap of canvas, hoping that thus they might not
be espied. "Now, be silent, on your lives," he began; but the captured
apprentice set up an instant shout.

"Silence, you knave!" cried Montfichet. "Stifle him, Robin, if need be;
take his cloth." He felt for and found the wizard's black cloth.

The Squire was quite out of breath. "Where is our wizard friend?" he
went on, peering about in the semi-darkness. "Most gentle conjurer, we
wish your aid."

But Master Will had beaten a prudent retreat through the back of the
tent. The canvas was ripped open, letting in a streak of light. They
left their prisoner upon the ground, and cautiously drew near the rift.

The noise without showed no abatement. The fighting was nearer to the
tent, and the bodies of the combatants bumped ever and anon heavily
against the yielding canvas.

"They will pull down the place about our heads," muttered the Squire.
"Hurry, friends."

Just then Robin stumbled over the skeleton of the ape, and an idea
seized suddenly on his brain, and, picking himself up, he clutched the
horrid thing tightly, and turned back with it. Thrusting open the proper
entrance of the tent, Robin suddenly rushed forth with his burden, with
a great shout.

"A Montfichet! A Montfichet! Gamewell to the rescue!"

He held the ape aloft and thrust with it at the press. The battle melted
away like wax under a hot sun at the touch of those musty bones. Terror
and affright seized upon the mob, and everywhere they fell back.

Taking advantage of this, the Squire's few men redoubled their efforts,
and, encouraged by Robin's and the little stroller's cries, fought their
way to him. The tumbler had come bounding to Robin's side and made up in
defiant noise that which he lacked in strength of arm. The tide was
turned, the other strollers and the Gamewell men came victoriously
through the press and formed a ring about the entrance to the wizard's
tent.

Robin, still brandishing his hideous skeleton, wished to pursue the
beaten and flying rabble; but the Squire counselled prudence.

"You have done right well, Robin of Locksley, and dearly do I love you
for your courage and resource. George Montfichet will never forget this
day. Here let us wait until the Sheriff's men come to us. I hear them
now, come at last, when all the fighting's done."

"What is your name, lording?" asked the little stroller, presently.

"Robin Fitzooth."

"And mine is Will Stuteley. Shall we be comrades?"

"Right willingly, for between us we have won the battle," answered
Robin. He had taken a liking to this merry rogue; and gave him his name
without fear or doubt. "I like you, Will; you are the second Will that I
have met and liked within two days; is there a sign in that?"

"A sign that we will be proper friends," replied the stroller.

Montfichet called out for Robin to give him an arm. The Squire, now that
the danger was over, felt the reaction; and he had strange pains about
his breast.

"Friends," said Montfichet, faintly, to the wrestlers, "bear us escort
so far as the Sheriff's house. It will not be safe for you to stay here
now. I would speak with you later, since notice must be taken of this
affair. Pray follow us, with mine and my lord Sheriff's men."

He spoke with difficulty, and both Robin and Mistress Fitzooth were much
perplexed over him. The party moved slowly across the scattered Fair;
nor heeded the mutterings and sour looks of the few who, from a
distance, eyed them.

Nottingham Castle was reached, and admittance was demanded. When the
Sheriff heard who was without his gates he came down himself to greet
them. He was a small, pompous man, very magnificent in his robes of
office, which he was wearing this day in honor of the Fair. In the early
morning he had declared it open; and on the last day would bring his
daughter to deliver the prizes which would be won at the tourney.

Master Monceux, the Sheriff of Nottingham, was mightily put about when
told of the rioting. He protested that the rogues who had conspired to
bring about this scandal should all be thrust into the stocks for two
whole days, and should afterwards be scourged out of the city. He was
profuse in his offers of hospitality to his guests; knowing Montfichet
to have a powerful influence with the King. And Henry might return to
England at any moment.

The strollers and the Squire's retainers had been told to find
refreshment with the Sheriff's men-at-arms in the buttery. Robin
pleaded, however, with the Squire for little Will to be left with them.

"I like this impudent fellow," he said, "and he was very willing to help
us but a little while since. Let him stay with me and be my squire in
the coming tourney."

"Have your will, child, if the boy also wills it," Montfichet answered,
feeling too ill to oppose anything very strongly just then. He made an
effort to hide his condition from them all, and Robin felt his fingers
tighten upon his arm.

"What is it, dear patron?" Robin asked, anxiously.

"Beg me a room of the Sheriff, child, quickly. I do think that my heart
is touched with some distemper."

Robin ran to the Sheriff.

"Sir," said he, "my patron is overcome of the heat and commotion. He
prays that you will quietly grant him some private chamber wherein he
may rest."

"Surely, surely!" said the Sheriff. "Ay, and I will send him a leech--my
own man, and a right skilful fellow. Bid your master use this poor house
as he would his own." The Sheriff spoke with great affectation. "In the
meantime I will see that a proper banquet is served to us within an
hour. But who is this fellow plucking at your sleeve? He should be in
the kitchen with the rest."

"He is my esquire, excellency," returned Robin, with dignity.

Mistress Fitzooth had been carried off by the Sheriff's daughter and her
maids as soon as they had entered the house, so that Robin alone had the
care of Montfichet. With Will Stuteley's assistance they brought the old
man safely to the chamber allotted them by the fussy Sheriff. Robin was
glad when, at length, they were left to their own devices.

"'Tis a goblet of good wine that the lording requires to mend him," said
the little stroller. "I'll go and get it, Robin Fitzooth."

The wine did certainly bring back the color to the Squire's cheeks.
Robin chafed his cold hands and warmed them betwixt his own. Slowly the
fit passed away, and George Montfichet felt the life returning to him.

"'Twas an ugly touch, young Robin. These escapades are not for old
Gamewell, lad; his day has come to twilight. Soon 'twill be night for
him and time for sleep."

The Squire's voice was sad. He held Robin's hand affectionately, as the
latter continued his efforts to bring back warmth to him.

"But I will do some proper service for you, child. You shall not find me
one to lightly forget. Will you forgive me now? I will return to
Gamewell soon as I may and there rest for a few days."

"I'll take you, sir. It will be no disappointment to me. I have seen all
that I wish of Nottingham Fair."

"You shall return for the tourney; and if your father will give you
leave, young Cumberland, you shall become my Robin's esquire. No thanks;
I am glad to give you such easy happiness. Arm me to the hall, Robin; I
am myself again, and surely there is a smell of roasted meats!"

"You are a worthy leech, Will," presently whispered Robin. "The wine has
worked a marvel. Come, follow us, and forget not that I still will
wrestle with you! Ay, and show you some pretty tricks."

"Unless I have already learned them!" retorted young Stuteley, laughing.
Then, becoming serious, the little stroller suddenly bent his knee.
"I'll follow you across the earth and sea, master," he murmured,
touching Robin's hand with his lips.

He lightly sprang to his feet again, seeing that Montfichet now
impatiently awaited them. Together they made their way to the banquet
spread in the Sheriff of Nottingham's wide hall.




CHAPTER V


Squire George of Gamewell rested at his ease in the comfort of his own
domain during the next day; and, though he would have Robin go into
Nottingham, with his new esquire and Warrenton--Montfichet's own
man--young Fitzooth was more than content to stay near to his patron's
side.

There had been no difficulty in the matter of Master Stuteley's
detachment from the other strollers. The old tumbler was shrewd enough
to see that his son would considerably better his fortunes by joining
them with those of Robin of Locksley. Will was delighted, and wished to
commence his duty in Robin's service by instructing his young master at
once in the arts of wrestling, single-stick, and quarter-staff.

The Squire laughed at their enthusiasm.

"Do you leave me, Robin, to the care of your mother: I warrant me I'll
come to no harm!" he said. "There are matters on which I would talk with
her, and we must be at peace."

Montfichet dismissed them. He was quite restored by this time, and
settled himself to a serious conversation with his sister.

There were subjects which he touched upon only to her--being a secret
man in some things, and very cautious.

"Having now no son, and being a lonely man," he had written in his
letter, and Dame Fitzooth had known from this that unhappy relations
still existed between George of Gamewell and Geoffrey Montfichet, his
only son.

The two men had been for a long time on unfriendly terms, though the
Squire latterly had sought honestly to undo that which had been years
a-doing. He could not own to himself that the fault was his altogether:
but Geoffrey, exiled to London, had been brought back to Gamewell at his
father's entreaty. For a time things had gone on in a better
direction--then had come Prince John's rebellion.

Geoffrey Montfichet was found to have been implicated in it, and had
been condemned to death. Only by the Squire's most strenuous endeavors
had this sentence been commuted by the King to life punishment. Geoffrey
fled to Scotland, whilst the Squire had been exercising himself on his
erring son's behalf. It was the last straw, and George Montfichet
disinherited his son. The hard-won Manor of Gamewell must pass from the
line.

Squire George had suddenly perceived a chance to prevent that
catastrophe. He had taken greatly to the lad Robin Fitzooth: and this
boy was of the true Montfichet blood--why should he not adopt the
Montfichet name and become the Montfichet heir?

This notion had been simmering in the Squire's mind. It had been born at
that moment when Robin had so cared for him and fought for him in
Nottingham Fair. "Here, at last," said the Squire, "have I found a son,
indeed."

Mistress Fitzooth had to listen to her brother's arguments submissively.
The dame saw stormy days for her ahead, for well she guessed that Hugh
Fitzooth would never agree to what the other in his impetuous way was
proposing. She listened and said "yea" and "nay" as the occasion
offered: once she mentioned Geoffrey's name, and saw Gamewell's face
cloud instantly with anger.

"He is no son of mine," said Montfichet, in a hard voice. "Do not speak
of him here, sister Nell--nor think me an unforgiving man," he hastened
to add, "for God knows that I did humble myself to the ground that I
might save his head from the axe of the King's executioner! And he
disgraced me by running away to Scotland on the very night that I had
gained Henry's pardon for him. Nay; I have no kin with cowards!"

"Geoffrey may have some reasonable excuse, brother mine," began the
dame, anxious to make peace.

Gamewell cut her short. "There can be no excuse for him," he said,
harshly.

His voice softened when he talked of Robin, for he was concerned to gain
his point.

"Fitzooth will be difficult in the matter, I do fear me," murmured the
dame, perplexed and ill at ease. "He is a Saxon, George, and thinks much
of his descent and name. He looks to Robin winning fame for it, as in
olden days. I do misdoubt me sorely."

"Well, let the lad be known as Robin Fitzooth Montfichet--'tis but
tacking on another name to him," said the Squire. "If he lives here, as
I shall devise in my will, right soon will he be known as Gamewell, and
that only! That fate has befallen me, and one might believe me now as
Saxon as your Hugh, Nell."

"You are none the worse for't, George," answered the dame, proudly.
"Either race is a kingly one."

"Saxon or Norman--shall Robin become Montfichet?" asked the Squire,
commencing his arguments again.

Fate had in store for young Robin, however, very different plans from
those tormenting Fitzooth the Ranger and old Squire George of Gamewell
Hall.

       *       *       *       *       *

The two lads strolled arm-in-arm about the wide court of Gamewell,
following Warrenton, in dutiful mood. The old henchman was very proud of
the place, and had all the legends of it at his fingers' ends. He told
young Robin of hidden treasure and secret passage-ways, and waxed
eloquent concerning the tapestries and carvings.

The hours went pleasantly enough, for, after the building had been duly
shown them, Warrenton took Robin about the gardens and orchards. There
was a pleasance, and a "Lady's Bower," wherein, Warrenton affirmed,
walked a beautiful lady once in every twelve months, at Hallow-e'en, on
the stroke of midnight. The old man then left them.

Very shocked was the old retainer to find these merry lads engaged
together, later, at wrestling and the quarter-staff, as if they had been
equals in birth. When Stuteley had thrown Robin thrice at "touch and
hold," within sight of the hall--it was indeed upon the soft grass of
the pleasance--Warrenton looked to see old Gamewell thundering forth.

When the Squire came not, and Robin nerved himself for yet another
tussle, the retainer shrugged his shoulders and even took an interest in
the matter.

[Illustration: ROBIN WRESTLES WILL STUTELEY AT GAMEWELL

_"Catch him by the middle," he shouted. "Now you have him, lording,
fairly. Throw him prettily!" And sure enough Stuteley came down._]

"Catch him by the middle," he shouted. "Now you have him, lording,
fairly. Throw him prettily!" And sure enough Stuteley came down.

"Does Master Gamewell play at archery here, Warrenton?" Robin asked,
presently, when he and Will were tired of wrestling. "Are they not
targets that I see yonder?"

The old man's eye lit up with pride. "Squire's as pretty a marksman as
any in Nottingham, lording, for all his years!" cried he. "And old
Warrenton it was who taught him. Yon target is a fair mark for any shaft
from where we stand. Yet I dare swear that Gamewell's lord would never
miss the bull in fifty shots at it!"

"Have you bow and quiver here?" inquired Robin, eagerly. "Mine I have
left in my room."

"Cross bow, longbow, or what you will, most noble. All that Gamewell has
I am to give you. Such were my master's commands. An your esquire will
run to the little hut near by, within the trees, he will find all that
we need."

"Go, Will. Haste you, and bring me a proper bow," cried Robin, with
sparkling eyes. "Now I'll bend the yew and see if I cannot do better
than in Sherwood."

Master Stuteley, having journeyed to the hut, peeped in and started back
with a cry of affright.

"The Yellow Woman, Robin!" called he, scampering back to them. "She is
in there, and did snatch at me! Let us run, quickly!"

"Beshrew me, master, but this is an adventure, for sure! The Yellow One,
was it? Then your days are numbered, and we had better be seeking a new
esquire," said Warrenton.

"Are you afraid, Warrenton?" said Robin, moving involuntarily nearer to
him. He glanced from one to the other, undecided whether to believe Will
or stand and laugh at his fears.

"I have had the distemper, master, and cannot again be hurt. But here
she comes, by the Lord! Keep near to me, lording, and shut your eyes
tight."

Robin was too dazed to heed the old man's advice. He glared in a
fascinated way at the figure emerging from the hut.

"It is a man," cried Robin, at last, "and listen--he is calling you,
Warrenton."

The retainer uttered a little sound of astonishment and ran forward.
"Sir--sir," he cried, as if in entreaty, to the man approaching: and he
made a gesture as though to warn him.

The "Yellow Lady" appeared to be in doubt both of Robin and young
Stuteley.

"Who are these, Warrenton?" called out a low, hushed voice.

Warrenton answered not, save with his half-warning, half-commanding
sign. But as the stranger drew near, apparently come to a decision, the
Squire's man spoke.

"It is your cousin, Master Geoffrey, and his esquire. They are here from
Locksley."

"So, 'tis my kinsman, Robin, who has tried to startle me?" said the
stranger, as Robin drew near to him. "Greetings, cousin; here's my hand
to you for all that you come to supplant me. Nay! I bear no ill-will.
Gamewell has no charms in my eyes compared with those of a life of
freedom."

"Is it Geoffrey, indeed?" asked young Fitzooth, gazing with both eyes
wide. He had looked to see his cousin young as himself, and here was a
man before him, bearded and bronzed, of nigh thirty summers. He was clad
in sombre clothes, and wore upon his shoulders a great scarlet cape, cut
extravagantly in the Norman fashion. Suddenly Robin laughed, heartily
and frankly.

"Yellow, Will, _yellow_, forsooth? Are you color-blind, friend? Cousin
Geoffrey, we had believed you none other than the yellow-clad damsel who
walks here at Hallow-e'en. Forgive us the discourtesy, I pray you. Here
is my hand and good fellowship in it. I am to relinquish all right to
Gamewell ground at the end of a year an I like--such were your father's
terms. I do doubt whether I may stay so long as that."

He spoke fearlessly. The two cousins embraced each other, and for an
instant Geoffrey gave play to his better self; then, next moment,
suspicion returned upon him.

"I am but come to see you, Warrenton, on a small matter. I must have a
horse and armor and a lance, that I may ride at Nottingham in the
joustings. I shall be disguised, and will wear my visor down: a hungry
wolf prowling unrecognized about his lord's domain."

His speech was bitter and his voice harsh. "Kinsman," added he, to
Robin, "do you keep still tongue in the business, and tell your squire
to be as discreet. I am outlawed in England and have no right in it----"

"That is not so, Geoffrey; surely your father will forgive----"

"It is in the King's hands, cousin. My father has no voice in it, nor
would desire to speak again for me, I trow. I have heard all that he
hath already done in my behoof, Warrenton--the item was brought to me
circuitously. Now I will keep you no longer: this hut has been and will
be my shelter until the horse and arms are brought here to me."

"I'll saddle him myself for you, coz: and choose you as stout a lance as
Gamewell can provide. Let me help you in this, and be to you always a
true friend."

"You speak soothly, young Robin, and it may be with sincerity. I'll
trust you then." Geoffrey drew him on one side. "See that the trappings
and armor be of good steel and furbished with red leather: let the note
of them be steel and scarlet. No device upon the shield, if you should
think to bring me one; and stay, I would like the sword-hilt and the
lance to be bound in red. Thus may you know me, if so be you are at the
jousts; but be secret, and trust no other man than Warrenton. I'll wait
you here at midnight--have no fear of the yellow ghost, kinsman!"

"You'll be as red as she is yellow, cousin," whispered back Robin, with
smiling face. "I'll do your behest, and attend you in this pleasance
to-night at twelve o' th' clock. My squire can be trusted, I well
believe."

"Believe in no man until you have tried him, coz," answered Geoffrey. He
paused. "Does Master Montfichet keep well in health, kinsman?" he asked.

"He is well, now, but has been indisposed.... Yesterday at
Nottingham----"

"Ay, I heard of the doings there--no matter how," muttered the other,
hastily. "Tell me that he is restored again; and that you will keep him
from harm always as valiantly as you did then. Does your father still
guard the forest at Locksley? 'Tis many years since I have seen Master
Fitzooth, but thy mother hath always been kindly disposed to me.
Farewell."

He nodded to Warrenton, and slipped back to the little hut, and they
heard him push the bolts after him. Robin turned to Stuteley.

"Will, speak not of this meeting with anyone save Warrenton. I have
promised for you."

"Right, master; the matter has already passed from my mind. Shall we try
our skill at archery? Warrenton can find me a bow, and I'll fetch yours
from the hall. Here comes a priest; surely he were good mark for us had
we our arrows here! And with him behold a forester of the
King--green-clad and carrying a royal longbow. Do you beg it of him,
master mine, whilst I seek yours. I go."

Young Stuteley hurried across the green, whilst Robin advanced to meet
the Clerk of Copmanhurst and the captain of the King's Foresters. They
were in earnest converse, and clearly had not spied the gay cloak of
Geoffrey Montfichet.

Warrenton, with significant gesture to Robin, began a lecture on the
making and choosing of arrows, as he walked beside his master's guest.

"Are you talking of arrow-making, friend?" asked the forester,
overhearing them. "Now I will tell you the true shape and make of such
shafts as our Will o' th' Green uses," he struck in. "One bare yard are
they in length, and are sealed with red silk, and winged with the
feathers of an eagle."

"Peacock," corrected the clerk, interposing. "You're wrong, Master Ford,
as I will prove. Here is the head of one of Will's bolts, dropped in the
greenwood on the day you rescued us from him. I have kept it in my
pouch, for 'tis a pretty thing." He laughed all over his jolly face.
"Here, Robin, keep it, and learn therefrom how _not_ to make arrows, for
vanity is a sin to be avoided and put on one side. The plainer the barb
the straighter does it fly, as all true bowmen must admit."

He took Robin's hand, soon as the lad had fastened the trophy in his
belt. "I have been bidden to you by the Master of Gamewell. He would
speak with you, Robin; and I do counsel you to give all heed and weight
to his words, and be both prudent and obedient in your answerings to
him."

They moved together towards the hall, whilst Warrenton and the forester
argued still on the matter of winging arrows.




CHAPTER VI


It was Warrenton who brought Master Geoffrey his red-armored steed and
lance, after all; for, although Robin had had a voice in the choosing of
the horse, and had helped the retainer to bind the shaft and interlace
the cuirass and gyres with riband such as the knight had ordered, events
stayed Robin from going out with these appurtenances of war to the
Lady's Bower.

Young Fitzooth had been commanded to his mother's chamber so soon as he
had come out from his converse with the Squire. There befell an anxious
interview, Mistress Fitzooth arguing for and against the Squire's
project in a breath. Robin was perplexed indeed: his ambition was fired
by the Squire's rosy pictures of what he, as a true Montfichet, must
adhere to without fail upon assuming the name and mantle of Gamewell.

Most of all Robin thought of his father. What would he counsel? "Remain
Fitzooth, and fight your own way in the world, boy." That is what he
_might_ say. In the end Robin decided to sleep upon the matter. In any
case he would not consent to rob Geoffrey of his inheritance; and he
told old Gamewell this to his face. "When I am gone you can do what you
will with the place, boy," the old man had answered. "I have no son;
but, of course, the fees and revenues will be yours. If, for a whim, you
beggar yourself, I cannot stay you. But take it whilst I live; and wear
Montfichet's shield in the days when my eyes can be rejoiced by so
brave a sight, for you will ne'er disgrace our 'scutcheon, I warrant me.
Perchance 'tis Geoffrey's sole chance that _you_ should wear the badge
of Gamewell. I might choose to bequeath it elsewhere."

The lad had checked him then. "Never that, sir," he had said. "Let
Gamewell land be ruled, for ever, by Gamewell's proper lord. I pray you
to let me take counsel with my mother ere I answer you."

"It is what I would suggest myself. Go to her."

Then had come the argument with his mother, which had unsettled him more
than before.

He went down to discuss with Warrenton and Stuteley the means by which
they best could bring the horse and arms to Geoffrey, and it soon became
evident that no one other than Warrenton dare attempt it, for fear of
betraying the son to his still angry father.

"Are you sure, Warrenton, that you will perform this business right
carefully?" Robin asked, over and over again, until the old servant
became vexed.

"I am part of the house of Montfichet, lording," snapped Warrenton, at
last, "and it is not reasonable to think that I will turn against
myself, as it were. Be sure that the horse and his trappings will be
safely carried to my second master, Geoffrey, at the hour given. Do you
keep the Squire employed in talk; and find excuse to lie in the little
room next to his own that you may hear him if he moves."

So Robin and Will went back to the hall, and presently the Squire's
voice was heard through the arras which covered the north entrance to
the apartment. He was in deep converse with the clerk, and entered the
hall holding him by the arm. For a moment Robin and Will were
unperceived; then the Squire's bright, keen eyes discovered them.

"Now to bed, boy!" cried he, dropping his detaining hold of the priest.
"'Tis late; and I go myself within a short space. Dismiss your squire,
Robin, and bid me good e'en. An early sleeper maketh a sound man."

"Did I see you with Warrenton, Robin Fitzooth?" put in the clerk,
curiously. "I would fain have some talk with him on the matter of
archery. I am told that this old man can draw as pretty a bow as any in
Nottingham."

"As any in England, I would say," said Gamewell, proudly. "That is, in
his day. Now that age is upon Warrenton and his master, cunning in such
matters is to seek. Yet he will teach you a few tricks when morning is
come. Now kiss me, boy, and keep clear head and ready hand for the
joustings and games to-morrow. Good night; God keep thee, Robin."

He seemed to take it for granted that Robin would, in the end, consent
to become of the house of Gamewell. Already Squire George looked upon
him as heir to the hall and its acres; even as slowly did Warrenton, the
shrewd and faithful man-at-arms. Truth to tell, the old servant did not
regard the prospect with too kind an eye.

Young Fitzooth embraced his uncle, and bade him good night with real
affection. There was no chance to alter his sleeping-room to one nearer
to Gamewell's chamber.

When he had reached his chamber, again came the suspicion of Warrenton.
Robin unfastened his tunic slowly and thoughtfully. Presently he
crossed the floor of his room with decided step.

"Will," cried he, softly; and Stuteley, who had chosen his couch across
the door of his young master's chamber, sprang up at once in answer.

"Do you hold yourself ready, Will, so soon as the house is asleep. We
will go out together to the bower; there is a way down to the court from
my window. Rest and be still until I warn you."

Stuteley replied in a word to him; and, blowing out his taper, Robin
returned to his bed and flung himself upon it in patient expectation.

The hours passed wearily by, and movement could yet be heard about the
hall. The open lattice gave entry to all sound from the court below; and
from his window Robin could tell when the tapers in the hall were
extinguished. Thrice he got up from his bed, and his stock of patience
was slipping from him.

At last all was quiet and black in the courtyard of Gamewell.

"Will," whispered Robin, opening his door as he spoke, "are you ready?"

Stuteley nodded as he entered on pointed toes.

"From the window," explained Robin, pushing him towards the lattice. A
faint starry radiance illumined the sky, and dim shadows held the angles
and nooks of the court below them.

A dense ivy clung to and covered the walls of the house. To one of light
and agile body it gave fair footing. Robin had hands and feet in it in
a moment; and cautiously, adroitly came to the ground, and signalled to
Will Stuteley.

The little ex-tumbler would have liked to have done tricks and shown his
cleverness in the business, had there been time for it: as it was, Will
dropped beside Robin lightly and easily, and instantly the two began to
cross the court.

It was necessary for them to climb over the stables at their left hand.
Some dogs, hearing these quiet, stealthy footfalls, began to bay
furiously: and both the youths stayed themselves until the beasts went
grumbling and suspicious back to the kennels.

They then renewed their journey, and, under the better light, made a
safe crossing of the stable-roofs.

They managed at length to win the gardens, and then raced across the
open ground to gain the shelter of the yew-trees bordering the bower.
The pleasance, in the soft moonlight, looked ghostly enough: the statues
and stone ornaments placed about the place seemed to be instinct with
life and to wave signals of horror to Will's starting eyes.

At last they approached the hut, and Robin saw in the bright moonlight
that the door gaped black at them. There was no sign to betray either
Warrenton or Geoffrey to him. Robin entered the hut, dragging the
unwilling esquire after him.

A draught of chill air puffed in their faces as they entered; and a
great owl blundered screamingly out into the night, the rush and noise
of it startling Will to a cold ecstasy of terror. He would have plunged
madly back to the hall had not Robin held firmly to him.

"Be not so foolish, friend," said Fitzooth, crossly. His voice took his
father's tone, as always happened when he was angered.

They moved thereafter cautiously about the hut, groping before and about
them to find something to show that Warrenton had fulfilled his mission.
Presently Will stumbled and fell, pulling down Robin atop of him.

Robin, putting out his hand to save himself, found that his fingers
grasped nothing but air. They were upon the verge of an open trap, in
the far corner of the hut; and Stuteley had tripped over the edge of the
reversed flap-mouth of this pit. Fitzooth's hand rested at last upon the
top rung of a ladder, and slowly the truth came to him. Quickly he drew
himself up and whispered the discovery to the other.

In an instant, then, their fears were dispelled. Will would have gone
down first into the pit had not Robin stayed him. Stuteley was anxious
that his young master should come to no harm; and where a danger
appeared an earthly one, he was quite willing to bear the brunt of it.
It was thought of the Yellow Woman which dried up all the courage in his
small, wiry body.

Robin carefully descended the ladder and found himself soon upon firm
rocky ground. Stuteley was by his side in a flash: and then they both
began feeling about them to ascertain the shape and character of this
vault. Hardly had they commenced when Robin's quick ears took warning.
Sound of a quiet approach was plain.

The darkness of the pit was suddenly illumined, and the lads found
themselves suddenly faced by the beams of a lanthorn suspended at about
a man's height in the air. From the blackness behind the light they
heard a voice--Warrenton's!

"Save me, masters, but you startled me rarely!" cried he, waving the
lanthorn before him to make sure that these were no ghosts in front of
him. "I have but this minute left Master Montfichet, having carried his
horse to him in safety. He rides into Nottingham to-morrow, unattended.
I would that I might be squire to him!"

"Did you indeed bring horse and arms down this ladder, Warrenton?"
enquired Robin, with his suspicions still upon him. "Truly such a horse
should be worth much in Nottingham Fair! I would dearly have loved to
see so brave a business----"

"Nay, nay, lording," answered Warrenton, with a half-laugh. "See"--and
again he waved his light, showing them where the underground passage,
for such it was, sloped upward to another and larger trap, now closed.
"This way is one of the many secret ones about Gamewell, master: but do
you keep the knowledge of it to yourselves, I beg, unless you would wish
hurt to our future lord of Gamewell."

Warrenton spoke thus with significance, to show Robin that he was not to
think Geoffrey's claims to the estate would be passed by. Robin Fitzooth
saw that his doubts of Warrenton had been unfair: and he became ashamed
of himself for harboring them.

"Give me your hand, Warrenton, and help me to climb these steps," said
he, openly. "'Tis dark, for all your lamp; and I fain would feel
friendly assistance, such as you can give."

His tones rang pleasantly on Warrenton's ears, and forthwith a
good-fellowship was heralded between them. This was to mean much to the
young hero of Locksley in the time to come; for Warrenton's help and
tuition were to make Robin Fitzooth something far better than the clever
bowman he was already. This night, in a way, saw the beginning of
Robin's fortunes and strange, adventurous after-life.

The old servant told him quietly as they crept back to Gamewell that
this passage-way led from the hut in the pleasance to Sherwood; and that
Geoffrey for the time was hiding with the outlaws in the forest. "Our
master is to be recognized by us as the Scarlet Knight at Nottingham
Fair should one ask of us, lording," Warrenton told him. "He implores us
to be discreet as the grave in this matter, for in sooth his life is in
the hollow of our hands."

The old servant spoke no more. In silence he led them back into Gamewell
by the private door through the stables by which he had himself emerged.

They regained their apartment, apparently without disturbing the
household of Gamewell. Only did one pair of eyes and ears look and
listen for them, and observe both their exit and return. It was the
Clerk of Copmanhurst's door that stood ajar; his busy mind that employed
itself in speculation as to the cause and meaning of this midnight
adventure.




CHAPTER VII


Geoffrey Montfichet's reason for wishing to be known as the Scarlet
Knight was no idle whimsey, as the others had guessed.

To John's rebellion against his father, Henry of England, the younger
Montfichet had given himself body and soul. The Prince had shown him
kindness, and now that the rebellion had failed, Geoffrey felt it
incumbent upon him to remain with the beaten side, and endeavor to
recover the advantage lost to them. To this end he now journeyed through
the Midlands in many disguises, trying to stir up the outlaws and
robbers of the forests to take up arms with John, under a promise that
the Prince (if successful) would grant them amnesty and a goodly share
of the spoils sure to fall to them.

A spy was to attend at Nottingham Fair to know how matters had
progressed with the outlaws of Sherwood; but, since it was too dangerous
to attempt an open meeting, Geoffrey had arranged a simple code of
signalling, by color.

Did he appear as a knight unknown and disinherited, bound on his arms
and steed with red trappings, the spy, eyeing him from beside the
Sheriff of Nottingham, would know that Will o' th' Green was to be
trusted, and would promptly bear the joyful news to his Royal Master.
Had sad black been the note, John's man would have guessed that friends
were still to seek about Nottingham.

Thus we know that Master Will had more reasons than one for appearing
as a wizard at Nottingham Fair. He had gone here chiefly to bear a
scroll to the Prince's emissary, and to declare fealty to John; but the
affair of the tumblers and Robin's discovery of him had warned Master
Will not to stay over long in the town, so Geoffrey had to depend upon
his plan of appearing as the Scarlet Knight.

The morning broke dull and threateningly over Gamewell. Robin and his
esquire slept late; but no one offered to disturb their slumbers. The
monk knew full well that there was good cause for his pupil's fatigue;
and had set himself to discover the true meaning of it. "Boy," said he
to Robin, "I pray that you do not think upon Nottingham to-day. There
will be a storm and much rain. The mud in the meadows of Nottingham will
surely spoil the bravery of the Fair, and show us too plainly how
trumpery and vain a matter it is."

"For that cause alone will we go, dear friend," retorted Robin. "It will
be a lesson to us. With you beside us to point the moral, much benefit
shall accrue, for sure. Father," Robin added, "come with us now to the
pleasance. There Warrenton is to show me how to notch arrows and pick a
courtly bow."

"I have no great wisdom in the game, boy; yet readily will I go with
you."

The three of them went in search of Warrenton; and found him with the
captain of the foresters.

Dame Fitzooth and the Squire followed later to the pleasance, and there
one and all tried conclusions. Robin soon found that Warrenton could
teach him much; and he was too anxious to excel in the conduct of the
bow to neglect this chance of learning the many secrets of it. "Men
shall talk of you"--Fitzooth's own words to him--always rang in his
heart whenever he drew the cord and fitted ash across yew.

Warrenton took great pleasure in showing Robin some of the tricks in
which he was so perfect; and explained them so well that ere an hour had
gone the lad had learned and mastered them.

"Lording," said the old servant, watching him as he essayed successfully
an exercise shown him but a few minutes before. "Lording, I do not doubt
that you will carry away with you to-day the Sheriff's prize from the
older bowmen of Nottingham! You have a keen eye for it, and your fingers
seem comfortable upon the yew--which is the sign and mark of a good
archer. Now, bear in mind this golden rule: that the feet are to be
placed at true angles, with the line of the mark running, as it were,
fairly through the heels: thus," and he took the position, fitted an
arrow to his bow, and, scarce looking towards the target, flew his shaft
so straightly as to pierce the very center of the bull. "Try now to
notch the arrow," said Warrenton, with pardonable pride.

Robin shook his head and laughed.

"Ay, but you shall make far _better_ than that, lording, an I have the
handling of you!" cried Warrenton. "Now take this bow and these arrows
which I have chosen; and we will set forth for Nottingham. We have an
hour's journey."

On the way to Nottingham, Robin's mind was so full of all that had
lately happened that he lagged behind the others and at last found
himself quite alone.

This was where the road curved through the last of the forest about
Nottingham. Warrenton and Master Ford of the foresters were at a renewed
discussion on longbow against crossbow; and Will Stuteley had become so
interested in the matter as to have poked his little horse between the
others. Robin trotted his steed to come up with them; then, suddenly
spying a brooklet among the trees upon his left hand, found himself
mightily athirst. He slipped from off the back of his grey jennet and
tethered the beast by the roadside.

The brook was fouled near the highroad from the passing of heavy carts
and wagons, so Robin pushed down it into the thicker wood.

Finding that now the stream ran pure and limpid, Robin flung himself
flat among the bracken and rushes, and dipped his face in the cool
water. He drank heartily, and lay there for a while in lazy content, hid
by the undergrowth and bracken.

A whinnying from his jennet warned him at length that he must push on
with speed if he intended to rejoin the others ere Nottingham gate was
reached. Robin turned himself about, preparatory to rising, then hastily
shrank back into the shelter afforded by the ferns.

Two men approached noiselessly through the forest. They carried bows and
were clad in russet brown. Robin, in that brief glimpse, recognized two
of Master Will's free-booting band.

The outlaws walked side by side in earnest conversation. Their
mutterings were at first unintelligible to Robin; but, by hazard, they
paused close to where he lay hid. Young Fitzooth knew that he would have
small chance with these fellows should they espy him.

Said one, an evil-looking man, with a dirty grizzled beard: "Our Will
seems to me, friend Roger, to be of open heart towards this youngling.
He has given him the key of the forest at first word, as if the place
were free to all. Had _you_ the knowledge of it so soon, Roger? Tell me,
lad."

He spoke sneeringly and with meaning. Robin strained his ears to
distinguish the other's reply. "Friend," said Number Two, at last, and
speaking in a smooth, milky sort of way, "friend, I would rather counsel
you to adopt a persuasive argument with the Scarlet Knight, should we
chance on him. I would have no violence done, an it may be avoided,
being a man opposed to lawlessness in heart, as you know. It is my
eternal misfortune which has brought me to this life."

"Tush! 'tis for murder of an old man at York! I know your story, Roger;
seek not to impose upon me."

"He was a Jew, dear friend, and did grievously provoke me. But we have a
matter in hand. This man has doubtless been sent in to spy upon us. I
have no belief in the faith of these Norman nobles. Further, he has upon
his head a goodly sum of money, as I well know. Wherefore, if chance
should yield him to our hands, it would seem right and proper that we
should bind him."

"Ay, hard and fast, Roger. You have it."

"Bind him with a vow, Micah, but not with ropes and wickedness. Yet
should your dagger inadvertently prick him----"

"Be sure that it will, Roger. Some inward voice warns me that it will."

The other made a sign to the last speaker to speak more quietly. Robin
cocked his ears in vain, but he had heard enough to show him that the
shadow of a great evil was stalking behind his cousin, and without
further thought decided that he must save him.

The two villains stood together a plaguey time perfecting their plans,
and Robin dared scarcely breathe. Once, when he attempted to wriggle his
way through the bracken, at the first sound of movement both men had
become utterly silent, showing that they had heard and waited to hear
again.

"A squirrel, friend," said the one called Roger at last, and Robin took
heart again.

However, knowing that presently they must espy his jennet tethered by
the road, Robin became desperate. He writhed his body snake-like through
the ferns until he came to the edge of the brook; then, covered by the
noise of the falling water, essayed to creep up the course of the
stream.

The distance from the road could scarcely have been two hundred ells,
but it seemed to Robin more like to a league. He got his feet and legs
wet and bemired; and cut his hands over the rocks about the brook. Yet
he came nearer and nearer still to the roadway without having given
alarm.

Robin saw at length the close turf which bordered the road, and spied
his little grey horse. Forthwith he rose to his feet and made a bold
dash for it.

The jennet was untethered and Robin upon its back in a flash; then the
lad heard the whizz of an arrow past him. He bent his head down close to
the neck of his jennet and whispered a word into its ear. The little
mare, shaking herself suddenly to a gallop, understood; and now began a
race between bow and beast.

These outlaws were no common archers, for sure. Twice did their shafts
skim narrowly by Robin and his flying steed; the third time a sudden
pricking told the youth that he was struck in the back.

He had no time for thought of pain. Everything depended on the beast
under him. He pressed his legs softly but firmly against her streaming
sides.

She was more swift in the end than the cruel arrows. Robin saw the
countryside flashing by him through a cloud of dust; saw that Nottingham
gate was reached; that a party with surprised faces watched his furious
approach. The little mare swayed and rolled as she went, and Robin came
to the ground, with the outlaw's arrow still in him. He was conscious
that someone ran to him and lifted him tenderly: he perceived dimly,
through circling blackness, the anxious face of Stuteley.

"Are you hurt, dear master?" he seemed to see, rather than hear, him
say.

Then Stuteley, Nottingham, and reason fled swiftly together, and the day
became as night.




CHAPTER VIII


When he recovered himself Robin found them binding his shoulder. He
smiled up at Warrenton to show that the hurt was little. "Are we too
late for the joustings, Will?" he murmured, spying out Stuteley's face
of concern.

"We are to bring back the golden arrow with us which the Sheriff has
offered as prize to the best marksman," answered Warrenton, before the
other could speak. "Now, you are to remember all that I have shown you,
and shoot in confidence. Now come: the gates of Nottingham are opened,
and your wound is neatly bandaged. Here is the arrow plucked from it:
keep it for a trophy."

"Is it a pretty shaft, Warrenton?" asked Robin, carelessly, as the old
servant thrust it into his quiver.

"It is one of Will's own, and that suffices."

After Master Ford had briefly bidden them farewell, they left their
beasts in charge of a fellow inside the gate, bidding him give the
little grey jennet all care and attention.

Here, also, Robin got himself washed and made tidy for the Fair, and had
some meat and drink to restore him. He found that it was to the long
Norman cape he wore that he owed his life. The outlaw's arrow had been
diverted by the flapping garment, and had only pricked him in the fleshy
part of his shoulder. The cape was so ripped, however, as to become
ridiculous in its rags, so Robin asked for the loan of a pair of
shears, and with them trimmed the cape so ruthlessly in his haste as to
make it become more like an old woman's hood.

"You have turned Saxon out of Norman very suddenly, master," laughed
young Stuteley.

It was a full three hours past noon ere they came to the Fair. A great
ring had been made in the centre of it, and huge wooden stands had been
built about this circle. They were covered finely with cloth of red and
gold; and many flags and banners were flying above the tops and about
the stands.

The blare and discord of trumpets rang out over the noise of the people.
A great clamor of voices betokened the arrival of some great man at the
front of the chief stand.

"The Sheriff has arrived," cried Stuteley, who knew the ways at these
affairs. "Hear how the people do cheer him! For sure he must be a man
well liked----"

"These fellows will applaud anyone who has power and office," said
Warrenton, scornfully. "Master Monceux is _not_ beloved of them, for all
that. But hasten, or we shall be shut out. Already they are closing the
gates."

The clouds were heavy and grey, and a few large drops of rain began to
patter down.

"Look to our bows, Warrenton," cried Robin, in alarm.

"Be easy, lording--your bow shall not be at fault if the prize does not
fall to your hand. Follow me."

They were now at the wicket, and Warrenton produced his authority.
Gamewell's name was enough. They were ushered into a small box near by
the Sheriff's own, and there awaited events.

First came bouts of single-stick and quarter-staff, and Master Will was
keen to take part in these contests. Warrenton counselled him to remain
in the background, however.

"The folk are sure to recognize you, malapert," said he, giving Stuteley
his favorite name for him, "and there will be an outcry. Let be, then,
and attend to your master."

"It would be better, Will, I do think," said Robin. "I have to find out
cousin Geoffrey, and warn him against two villains waiting for him
without the town." And Robin gave them briefly the history of his
adventure.

Ere he had ended the story, the Sheriff held up his baton as a sign that
the jousting would begin. Two knights rode into the ring through the
hastily opened gates, heralded by their esquires--amid the noise of a
shrill blast of defiance. They were clad in chain-mail, bound on and
about with white riband, and their armor was burnished in a manner most
beautiful to behold. Their esquires threw down their gauntlets before
the box of Master Monceux, and challenged the world to a trial of
strength in these the lists-magnificent of Nottingham town.

Two black knights had ridden into the lists in answer to the challenge;
and now all clamor was hushed. The Sheriff's daughter, a pale,
hard-faced girl, with straw-colored hair and mincing ways, announced in
inaudible voice the terms of the contest. The heralds repeated them
afterwards in stentorian tones; and the rivals wheeled about, the white
knights couching their lances from under the Sheriff's box. The others
prepared themselves at the wicket-gate and waited for the signal.

This was given, and the four rushed together with a shock like a
thunder-clap. These four knights gave good account of themselves.

The black knights had been unhorsed, and now they lay helpless in their
heavy armor. Once on their feet, they were eager to renew the fray, and
were soon again in readiness. At the second tilt they rudely unhorsed
the white knights by sheer strength of arm; and all the people shouted
themselves hoarse.

So the jousting went on; and, after the white knights had eventually won
the first round, yellow and red took their places. Robin eagerly scanned
the latter, trying to discover which of the two might be Geoffrey. A
small, thin-faced man behind the Sheriff was no less eager to discover
Montfichet in this favorable apparel; and evidently had sharper eyes
than had Robin in piercing disguise. This wizened-faced fellow leaned
back with satisfied smile, after one searching glance; then, drawing out
his tablets, he wrote on them, and despatched his man in haste to London
town.

Geoffrey was unhorsed in the second tilting; and lay so long upon the
ground that Robin's heart stood still. It was then discovered that this
knight was unknown and had no esquire. Thus Robin knew him for his
cousin.

"Attend him, Will, as you would myself," cried Robin, anxiously, "and
see now to his hurt----"

"He is but dazed, master, with his fall. It seems that these knights are
armored so heavily that once down they cannot of themselves rise up
again! Protect me from such war-gear! I'd sooner have my own skin and be
able to be spry in it. What say you, old Warrenton?"

"Go to, malapert. Get down to him, and be as active with your hands as
you are with your tongue."

"I go, I go--see how I go!" and Will turned a somersault over him into
the ring out of the front of their box. Robin called angrily on him to
behave, and the little tumbler ran then to his duties as servant to the
unknown Scarlet Knight.

Robin's eager eyes roved hither and thither about the gay scene.
Opposite him was a small box near to the ground, wherein sat two people
only. One was a grave-faced man of courtly mien and handsome apparel:
the other seemed to be his child.

Towards one of these two persons Robin's glances for ever wandered. The
laughing blue eyes of the girl, the queer little toss of her head which
she gave in her unheard answers to her sober father, heartily pleased
young Fitzooth, and in some way vaguely disturbed his memory. She was of
about fifteen summers; and her hair was black as a winter's night--and
curled all waywardly around her merry face. Blue were her eyes when the
quick fever induced by the tilting rushed in her blood--blue as meadow
violets. Then, when the excitement was passed, they fell to a grey
wonderment. Twice she encountered Robin's glances; and the second time
her eyes shone blue, as if ashamed, and the tint of her warm cheeks
deepened. Demurely she turned away her face from him.

Young Fitzooth turned to Warrenton: "Can you tell me who these may be
who sit alone in yon little box?" he asked, and cautiously pointed them
out to the old retainer.

Warrenton was stupid, however, and would not see exactly where Robin
would have him look. At last, as one making a discovery: "Oh, 'tis
Master Fitzwalter you mean, lording? Ay, a right worthy, honest
gentleman; and warden of the city gates. Next of importance in
Nottingham town is he after Monceux, the Sheriff; and a prettier man in
all ways. Now, were he Sheriff, Squire George of Gamewell would oftener
be in Nottingham Castle than now, for we like not the Sheriff. The maid
with Master Fitzwalter is his only child. She has no mother; and he is
both parents to her. Ay, a proper man----"

"She is very beautiful, I think," said Robin, speaking his thoughts
almost without knowing it.

"Yes, yes, a passable wench. But I have no faith in them, lording. They
are all as the Yellow One of Gamewell. They smile upon you that they may
work their will; and evil comes of their favor, if not death. Now
see----"

"You are crabbed, indeed, Warrenton; and I'll hear no more. Do you know
her name?"

"Fitzwalter, lording. Did I not say this was his child?"

"Has she no other name?" persisted Robin, patiently.

"Oh, ay ... let me see. 'Tis Judith, or Joan, or some such name. Mayhap,
'tis Catherine. I do misremember it, lording: but 'tis surely of no
account. The archery is now to begin; and here I would have you give
heed----"

He recommenced his cautions, warnings, and hints--being anxious that
Robin should shine to-day for Gamewell's sake.

Robin saw that the jousting was done, and that, after all, the red
knights were conquerors. It fell to Geoffrey to ride forward and accept
the coveted laurel wreath. Dipping his lance, Geoffrey caused his
charger to bend its knees before the regal-looking box: and Master
Monceux, after an inflated speech, placed the circlet of bays upon the
end of Geoffrey's lance. Then the unknown knight for a brief instant
raised his vizor. The lean-faced man near to the Sheriff's right hand
exchanged a quick glance of understanding with the knight.

The Sheriff nodded to give the knight to understand that he was
satisfied. With closed visor the scarlet one then paced his steed slowly
and in quiet dignity around the lists, followed dutifully by Stuteley,
until they had returned to the Monceux box. Again saluting gracefully,
he extended his lance, with the wreath still depending from it, towards
the Sheriff, as it seemed.

"Does he return the wreath, and wherefore?" asked Robin, in puzzled
voice.

"To her to whom the wreath is yielded our Sheriff will award the title
of Beauty's Queen," explained Warrenton. "'Tis a foolish custom. Master
Geoffrey, in this matter of etiquette, knows that the trifle should go
to young Mistress Monceux. Otherwise, the Sheriff would have him beaten,
no doubt; or injured in some shameful way upon his departure from the
lists."

"So that is the rule of it, eh, Warrenton?" said Robin. "I would like to
choose my own Queen----"

"It matters not one jot or tittle to young Master Montfichet. See--the
wreath has been duly bestowed and the Sheriff will announce his girl
Queen, until the night, of Beauty in all Royal Nottingham. There will be
some further mummery when the golden arrow is won. Doubtless, the winner
will have to yield it up to Monceux's girl again, on a pretence that
all is hers, now she is Queen. So shall my lord the Sheriff keep his
prize after all; and be able to offer it again next year----"

Robin checked the garrulous old man with a gesture.

"Now give me my bow, Warrenton," commanded young Fitzooth, somewhat
roughly; "and do you tell me how I am to enter myself in the lists."

"Your esquire should announce you," returned the other, respectfully.
"See, here he comes----"

"The Red Knight would thank you, master, for your courtesies," said
Stuteley, approaching Robin. "He will wait for us at Nottingham gate;
and prays that you will accept the chargers of the unhorsed knights from
him. They are his by right of conquest, as you know."

"I will accept them, and thank him for the gift," returned Robin,
briefly, guessing that this was the reply that Geoffrey would desire him
to make. "Now tell the heralds that Robin of Locksley will enter for the
Sheriff's prize. Give no more of my name than that, Will," he added
warningly, in a lower voice.

Stuteley vanished, and Robin turned again to the lists. The Sheriff's
daughter had already been crowned, and sat now in supercilious state in
the Sheriff's own seat. Geoffrey had gone, and Fitzwalter's box was
empty.

"I'll not shoot at all," said Robin, suddenly. "Go, Warrenton, bring
back Stuteley to me. I have changed my mind in the matter."

"Does your wound fret you, lording?" asked Warrenton, solicitously.
"Forgive me that I should have forgot----"

"Nay--'tis not that at all. I have no wish to shoot. Fetch Will to me."

It was too late. Stuteley had already given in Robin's name to the
heralds, and signified that he would shoot first of all. He came into
the box even as Warrenton went out for him.

Half-angrily, Robin took the bow from the retainer's hands and slung his
quiver about him. He strode moodily across the lists to the spot where
the other archers had already gathered. When they saw this youngling
with his odd little cape preparing himself, they smiled and whispered
together. Robin strung his bow and slipped an arrow across it.

The crowd became suddenly silent, and this nerved the lad to be himself
once more. He forgot his momentary vexation and aimed carefully. His
arrow flew surely to the target and struck it full in the middle. "A
bull! A bull!" roared Warrenton and Stuteley, together. Robin stepped
back.

"None so bad a shot, master," said the next archer to him, in a quiet
tone. "You have provided yourself now with a truer shaft, I ween?"

It was Will o' th' Green, with stained face and horse-hair beard. His
eyes challenged Robin's in ironical defiance, as he moved to take his
turn. His aim seemed to be made without skill or desire to better
Robin's shot; yet his arrow found resting-place side by side with the
other.

The mob cheered and applauded themselves hoarse; while the markers
scored the points evenly to these first two archers.

These two stood apart, silent amidst the din. Once Will seemed to be
about to speak: then changed his mind. He glanced sidelong at young
Stuteley and Warrenton; then hummed a ballad-tune under his breath.

The contest went on and the first round came to an end. Out of twenty
and three rivals nineteen had scored bulls at this range. The markers
gave the signal to the heralds, and these announced the results with
loud flourishings.

The target was taken down and the range increased. The range of the mark
from the archers for the second round was fixed at forty ells--the same
distance as had chanced before between Robin and Master Will when in the
greenwood together. The outlaw offered to shoot first; but the heralds
requested them to keep in the same order as in the preceding round.

Robin fitted his arrow quietly and with some confidence to his bow, then
sped it unerringly towards the target. "A bull! Another bull to
Locksley!" cried out Warrenton, in stentorian tones, and the fickle mob
took up the cry: "Locksley! A Locksley!" with gusto.

Will aimed with even more unconcern than before. His arrow took the
center fairly and squarely, however; and was in reality a better shot
than Robin's. The shafts were withdrawn; then the other contestants
followed. This round brought down the number of competitors to five. The
markers carried back the target to a distance of five-and-fifty ells;
and truly the painted circles upon it seemed to be now very small.

Robin again took his stand, but with some misgiving. The light was
uncertain, and a little fitful wind frolicked across the range in a way
very disturbing to a bowman's nerves. His eyes half-anxiously addressed
themselves to that box wherein he had spied Mistress Fitzwalter.

His heart leaped--she had returned, and her strange gaze was fixed upon
him! Robin drew his bow and flew his shaft. Unconsciously he used the
arrow plucked from his own shoulder by Warrenton.

Again did he gain the center, amid the cries and jubilations of Stuteley
and the old retainer.

"Now Master Roughbeard, better that!" shouted Warrenton.

The outlaw smiled scornfully and made ready. He drew his bow with ease
and a pretty grace, and made a little gesture of confidence as his agile
fingers released the arrow. It leaped forth rushingly towards the
target, and all eyes followed it in its flight.

A loud uproar broke forth when the markers gave their score--an inner
circle, and not a bull. Master Will made an angry signal of disbelief;
and strode forward down the lists to see for himself. It was true: the
wind had influenced a pretty shot just to its undoing, and Will had to
be content with the hope that the same mischance might come to Robin or
any of the other bowmen before the round was ended.

The outlaw wished especially to win--that he might have the satisfaction
of vexing the Sheriff of Nottingham. Will had intended to send back this
prize--a golden arrow--from his stronghold of Sherwood, snapped into
twenty pieces, with a letter of truculent defiance wrapped about the
scraps. He wished to make it plain to Master Monceux that the free
archers of Sherwood were better men than any _he_ might bring against
them, and that they despised him very heartily. Now that he saw a
likelihood of his being beaten his heart grew hot within him.

"Be not too sure of it, stripling," said he, as he returned to Robin's
side. "Fortune may mar your next shot, as she has mine----"

"'Tis like enough, friend," answered Robin, smiling; "and yet I do hope
that the arrow may be won by my hand. This is our second test, Master
Will," he added, in a low voice. "Forget it not--the freedom of the
greenwood is the reward that I do seek even more than my lord the
Sheriff's golden arrow."

The outlaw's anger went suddenly from him.

"Then I do wish you God-speed, youngling," he said, brightly. "You have
in truth beaten me right honestly--for mine was an ill-judged shot."

With Will out of it, the contest came to an easy conclusion; and
presently the Sheriff's arrow was duly awarded to Robin of Locksley by
the markers.

The lad came forward shyly to receive the prize.

"Master Monceux thinks that you should shoot once more with the second
archer," said someone to him, leaning from the Sheriff's box. Looking
up, Robin espied the lean-faced man smiling disagreeably down at him.

"Let my lord state the terms of this new contest, then," answered Robin,
"and the reason for't."

"'Tis said that you were over-favored by the wind and by the light."

An angry answer was upon the lad's lips: but he checked himself, and
with slow dignity turned and went back to where the archers stood
grouped together. Soon as he made known to him the difficulty which the
Sheriff had raised, Will o' th' Green became furious.

"Locksley, have none of this trumpery prize," cried he, in loud anger.
"I do deny my right to any share in it, or to a fresh contest. Nor will
I shoot again. Let Monceux vex his brain as he may with rules and
conditions--they are not for Roughbeard, or for you. We have our own
notions of right and justice; and since the Sheriff is loth to part with
the prize that he has offered--why, yield it back to him, friend--and
take the reward from me that you coupled with it."

Other indignant protests were now heard from amongst the onlookers: and
the Sheriff saw that he had raised a storm indeed. "Locksley! Robin
Locksley!" was shouted noisily round and about; and Warrenton and
Stuteley busily fostered the tumult. Master Monceux at last bade the
heralds announce that Robin of Locksley had won the golden arrow--since
the archer who had made nearest points to him did not desire nor seek a
further trial.

"Were it necessary, lording," muttered old Warrenton, "I would show you
how to notch the arrow of the best archer here about--a merry trick, and
one that I learned in Lancashire, where they have little left to learn
of archery, for sure."

"Nay," put in Roughbeard, loudly, "the arrow is his without need of
further parleyings. I do admit myself beaten this day--though on another
occasion we will, perchance, reverse our present positions. Take or
leave the arrow as you will, Locksley. For my part I would love to
prick Monceux with it heartily."

"You talk wisely, friend," said Warrenton, approvingly, "and, as for
making a match with you, why, that will we to-day. Do you ride with us
to Gamewell and there you shall have archery and to spare."

"Ay, and a welcome, too!" commenced Robin; then paused suddenly,
remembering who Roughbeard really was. Montfichet of Gamewell
entertaining Will o' th' Green!

The outlaw merely laughed good-humoredly at the lad's confusion.

"Go, take the Sheriff's prize; and vex him in some way, if you can, in
the accepting of it!"

Again Robin walked forward towards the Monceux box; this time with
flashing eyes and a resolve in his heart.

"Robin of Locksley," said the Sheriff, scarce looking at him, "here is
my golden arrow which I have offered as reward to the best bowman in
this Fair. You have been accorded the prize; and I do yield it to you
with sincere pleasure. Take the bauble now from our daughter's hand, and
use the arrow worthily."

The heralds blew a brazen blast, and the demoiselle Monceux, with a thin
smile, held out to Robin upon a silk cushion the little shining arrow
which now was his. Bowing, and on one knee, Robin took up the glittering
trophy.

"Surely 'tis a plaything more suited to a lady's hair than to an
archer," murmured the lean-faced man, who stood close by. Catching
Robin's eye, he made a significant sign, as who would say: "Here is the
Queen who would adorn it."

Robin had that other notion in his mind, however, and saw that now the
moment had arrived in which it should be put into execution. Somehow, he
contrived to bring himself before the small low box wherein,
half-startled, sat the maid Fitzwalter.

"Lady," stammered the young archer, bowing to her, "do you please accept
this little arrow which I have won. It is a pretty thing; but of small
use to me. Maybe you could make some ornament with it----"

Then he could go no farther; but dumbly held it out to her.

The girl, having seen that her father was not unwilling, stretched out
and took the Sheriff's arrow from Robin's shaking hands.

"Thanks to you, Robin o' th' Hood," she said, with that roguish little
toss of her dark curls; "I'll take the dart, and wear it in memory of
Locksley and this day!" Her eyes looked frankly into his for a brief
instant; then were hid by her silky lashes.

Robin, with bounding heart, walked proudly back to where old Warrenton
stood, glowing; and the people thunderingly applauded the archer's
choice.

"Right well was it done, Locksley!" roared the outlaw, near forgetting
himself. "I love you for it." For he saw only that the Sheriff had been
slighted, and cries of: "A Locksley!" were renewed again and again.

Master Monceux looked furiously at this archer who had taken the prize
with only the briefest word of thanks to him: and would have spoken, had
not his daughter, with chilling gesture, forbidden it. She gave no
outward symptom of the anger stirring within her: she wore her
worthless but royal crown of bay, whilst the other toyed thoughtfully
with the golden arrow, and wondered who the gallant giver of it might
be.

Robin, Warrenton, Stuteley, and Roughbeard rode towards the gate of
Nottingham on the horses of the defeated knights. They had decided to
stay no longer at the Fair: the noisy play and mock-joustings that were
to follow the archery had no attraction for them.




CHAPTER IX


This escort saved Geoffrey from the attack planned upon him by the two
treacherous robbers. They spied him out, and followed the small
cavalcade throughout the journey, but at a respectful distance, uttering
deep threats against the lad who had warned the knight of their evil
intent. So, whilst making friends, Robin also made enemies: but none so
bad as that cold-faced woman of Nottingham Castle. She had recognized in
Robin of Locksley the youth who had come with old Montfichet on the
first day of the Fair.

Near by Gamewell, Roughbeard called a halt. He had been strangely
silent, being over doubtful.

"Farewell, friends," said he, doffing his cap to them. "Here our roads
do part, for I must go further through the forest."

"I, too, have that direction before me, if so be that you are travelling
westward," said Geoffrey to him, with well-assumed diffidence, and
speaking through his casque. He had known the outlaw at once; but had
forborne to show it, scarce dreaming that Robin also had pierced Will's
disguise.

Robin became busy in his thoughts when he saw his cousin and Roughbeard
riding off together like this. That secret way from the hut which led
into Sherwood; the two villains who had plotted against Geoffrey--why,
all was clear! Geoffrey now was with them of the forest; had been
seeking to influence Master Will; no doubt the red trappings upon which
he had laid such stress were as a signal to someone. To whom? And to
what end?

Geoffrey had been cool towards Robin when warned of those scheming
against him. "I can protect myself against such rabble, cousin," was all
he would say. "But I would thank you for bidding your lad to me in the
joustings; it was a matter I had overlooked that one must have an
esquire. I'll not forget the courtesy."

That was all. He had shrunk back into himself again; and with closed
visor had ridden silently beside them. Yet he was not ungrateful; and
had begun to like Robin very honestly, only Geoffrey Montfichet must be
very sure of his man ere he would unbend to him.

It was already nigh on dusk as Robin rode into the court at Gamewell in
dreaming abstraction. His thoughts had sprung back again from Geoffrey
to the blue-eyed maid: and in cloudlands he saw himself her knight.
Wondrous and mighty would be the deeds that he should perform for her
dear sake--did she bid him to them.

Then he remembered Broadweald, and how he had sworn within himself to
set his life to win that, for his father's happiness.

Ay: but surely in the winning of Broadweald there might chance smaller
prizes, which properly he might yield for a smile from this fair maid?
Or again, might not he battle for the two together?

"Robin, Robin!" He heard old Montfichet's voice, calling from the shadow
of the porch. "Where are you, child? I did not espy you at the bridge.
Come here, boy, and let me tell to you something of sorrow. There has
befallen a sad mischance to your father at Locksley----"

"Sir, sir," cried poor Robin, waking suddenly, "tell me not that he is
dead!" He sprang hastily from his grey steed and ran towards the Squire.

"No, not that."

"Ah, but my heart forewarns me. He has been hurt by some beast? It is
the season when the deer are wild."

"Master Fitzooth has been attacked by a great stag near by your home.
That is all we know of it, child; and I give it you plainly at once,
that you may hear the worst. Your mother has already gone to him, with
the clerk and a full two score of men. For the captain of the foresters
has kindly joined forces with mine own fellows; so that no further harm
may befall."

"I'll follow her, sir. Give me leave to go."

"'Twere wiser to wait till morning, boy. What could you do now? Mayhap
we fret ourselves too much, as 'tis. But you shall go, with Warrenton
and your esquire, when morning is here. Ay, and I will come too; and we
will bring with us the most skilful leech in Nottingham. I have already
sent a messenger to him, an hour since, so soon as the dame had gone."

"I like not my mother having been sent for, sir. That shows me that the
hurt is deadly. To think that I was playing so foolishly at the moment
when I might have been of use to him!"

So rudely ended Robin's dreaming.

In the morning they set out for Locksley; the Squire with the leech, and
six mules bearing such delicacies as old Gamewell's generous mind could
think upon. Warrenton headed a full score of men, for fear of the
outlaws; and they took a litter with them to bring Master Fitzooth to
Gamewell.

The dame met them at the latch-gate which Robin knew so well. Her face
was deathly pale and her mouth quivered as she tried to frame a welcome
to them.

"Mother!" cried Robin, in anguished voice, running to her; and there was
no need for further speech. In that one cry and in the expression of her
mute, answering face, the truth was told and understood. No use to fight
for Broadweald now; were it his a hundred times over, Robin could never
do that with it which he in all his boyhood had planned. Hugh Fitzooth,
Ranger of the Forest of Locksley, was dead.

       *       *       *       *       *

The good Clerk of Copmanhurst, who had appeared from within the cottage,
told the story of Fitzooth's death. Fitzooth had been alone when the
huge wild stag had attacked him; was near his death when discovered by
two of his men. He had regained consciousness only at the sound of his
wife's voice; had kissed her with fainting breath; and, having labored
to send Robin a message of love and pride in him, had gradually faded in
spirit until the dawn.

It was an unhappy ending to a life soured by disappointment; yet somehow
this man had managed to win a way into the hearts of many people. The
few villagers of Locksley all had their tender word or humble tribute of
affection to offer the dame and her sorrowing son; and thus much of the
edge of their grief was blunted. Until the interment the priest stayed
with them, and so did old Gamewell, who paid all the fees and expenses
inevitable in consequence of Fitzooth's decease.

Afterward, the Squire would have them go back to Gamewell with him; but
Robin had determined to ask for his father's post. This bitter time made
the lad into a man suddenly. It was the evening of the day when they had
laid Fitzooth to rest in the little churchyard of Locksley that
Montfichet returned again to talk of his plan of making Robin his heir.

The old man argued reasonably and well; and Robin listened in silence
until he was done. Then, "Very generously and indulgently have you
talked with us, sir," said Robin, "and sure thing it is that we owe you
such debt as I can never hope to pay. Yet I cannot feel that 'twould be
a man's part to live an idle life. Surely I should do something, sir, to
win the right to wear your name? Moreover, I must not forget that there
is another--nay, hear me, sir--thine own son, whose birthright I should
be stealing away from him."

"Boy," interrupted old Gamewell, on a sudden resolution, "will you share
Gamewell with me as Geoffrey's brother, then? If so be this way out of
it will meet your objections, I'll sink my prejudice. Geoffrey shall go
halves with you."

"That were the course nearer to my heart, sir; and yet not all that I
would desire. I have no right to talk to you so openly; but the matter
is, in a manner, forced upon me."

"It is agreed then, Robin?" cried the Squire, eagerly. "And so you will
take your mother's olden name and become Montfichet of Gamewell?"

"I would rather serve the King _here_ for one year, at least," said
Robin, arguing still. "You might think better on't, sir. Let me try my
strength or weakness; and find out myself for myself. My father would
have wished me to fight my own way in the world."

"The lad speaks soothly, Squire," said the clerk, interposing, "and I
would counsel you to agree to his notions. Moreover, he has not yet
finished his studyings with myself in the Latin tongue."

"Leave me young Stuteley and Warrenton, sir, and your blessing, and let
me win bread for my mother and myself for twelve months from to-day.
Then, if I may, and you wish, I'll come humbly to you." Robin went over
to him. "And believe me always as being very grateful, sir. I would that
I might not seem obstinate in this."

"Have it so, then, Robin. I'll bear your letter to Monceux myself, and
rally him about the arrow which you won!"

"Will the Sheriff appoint me, then?" asked Robin, a trifle disconcerted.

"He will advise the King in the matter. 'Tis but a form. The post of
Ranger of Locksley is yours, merely for the asking. Who could gainsay
your right to it? Give me the letter; and I will be your messenger. I go
to-morrow to Gamewell, and will journey to Nottingham the next day. Now,
since I understand that this holy man would wish to see you alone, and I
would like to talk with your mother, I'll leave you, boy. Count me
always as friend, Robin Fitzooth Montfichet."

He added the last word half-enquiringly, half-lovingly; and twinkled to
the clerk to see how Robin might take it. But the lad made no reply
beyond kissing the old man's fingers very respectfully and tenderly; and
with a sigh, old George of Gamewell offered his arm to the dame, who had
silently listened throughout the discussion.

Left alone, the clerk approached Robin. "Now, boy, what I have to say is
soon told. Know then that I have learned of your adventures with the
Scarlet Knight; and that he is in league with Will o' th' Green.
Further, I have had it whispered to me that he is none other than
Geoffrey of Montfichet. It matters not how this knowledge came to me; I
do but seek to warn you to tread gently and warily in the days now
before you. So far, life has been kind to you, and surely there is no
reason why you should not prosper very exceedingly. There is for you a
good friend in Gamewell's Squire."

"And one also at Copmanhurst, father."

"Assuredly, boy. But I am a poor anchorite and one unable to help you,
save by friendly counsel. Take heed not to touch Montfichet too nearly
in the matter of his son," added he, warningly; "he is a strange man,
and will brook no meddling."

"I would not see Geoffrey wronged, father, not even by Robin of
Locksley," said Robin, vehemently.

The clerk smiled at him. "You may coax the Squire, an you will, boy,"
said he, twinkling; "for I do think that one may achieve more that way
than by any other. But be careful not to let him see that you would lead
him; and, above all, provoke him not. Montfichet is an obstinate man.
His heart prompts him to forgive Geoffrey; and doubtless he could get
the ban removed from off the young man's head. But the Squire will not
readily forego his oath. So now, rest content that he will share
Gamewell with Geoffrey and yourself, and do not let him know that once
you did deceive him."

"Deceive him, father?"

"Did you not go out secretly to meet the Scarlet Knight, boy? And do you
not now hide from Gamewell that his son is in hiding with Will o' th'
Green? Be prudent and tread no more in this path. Peace be with you,
Robin Fitzooth; and discretion also."

He bade Robin good night, and set out towards his lonely cell near St.
Dunstan's shrine; leaving the other perplexed and distressed at his
words.

The first clouds on Robin's horizon were appearing.




CHAPTER X


Squire George left them next morning. He bade Warrenton stay at
Locksley, and charged young Stuteley to let him know if the dame or his
master should want for aught. Then, having pressed some money upon his
sister to meet their necessities, he bade them affectionate farewell.

He took Robin's letter to Monceux, and added his own request to it,
never doubting that so ordinary a matter as this would be long a-doing.
The Rangership of Locksley Woods was Robin's by every right: for the
house and garden had been given to Hugh Fitzooth in perpetuity by the
King. So at least they all had understood.

Master Monceux, lord Sheriff of Nottingham, took the letters and read
them with a thin smile; then bore them to his daughter's chamber, and
laid them before her. "Truly the enemies of our King are not lacking in
audacity," sneered Master Monceux, when Mistress Monceux had mastered
the scrolls.

"What will you do?" asked she, curiously.

"This is the young archer who won my arrow," remarked the Sheriff.
"Robin Fitzooth of Locksley. Observe that his father has been killed by
one of the King's deer; like as not whilst he was attempting to snare
it. His son asks now for the post: this son who shoots with a peacocked
arrow to win my prize."

"Say you so? Then this boy is of the outlaws of Sherwood?" Her thin lips
parted over her white teeth in an evil doubt, as she asked her father:
"How do you know that the arrow was winged with a peacock's feather? Did
you see it yourself?"

"John Ford brought it to me."

"Ford is a very untrustworthy knave. I would that some other of the
foresters had told you."

The Sheriff was vexed at this. "I have no hesitation in the matter,
child. But give heed, for now I must either agree to this recommendation
of my lord Montfichet, or refuse it because I have already appointed
some other to the place. Can you not suggest a man to me?"

"Let it be one distasteful both to Montfichet and to this boastful
youth," said the demoiselle Monceux, eagerly. "Send Ford, or one of the
scullions from our kitchen, that they may know our contempt for them.
And bid the young archer to us here; he should be whipped and put in the
stocks," she added, vindictively.

"Will you reply to those scrolls then, child?" said the Sheriff, glad to
be relieved of a task which he did not relish. "Let it be Ford; he is
captain of the foresters hereabouts, and has been staying at Gamewell. I
hear that young Locksley is not over-fond of him. But be discreet in
your scrivening, and say only that which is necessary, child."

"I will bring the letters when they are penned, and will read them to
you," said his daughter.

In due course, then, came the Sheriff's reply to Robin's request. It was
couched in arrogant terms, and bade the youth report himself within ten
days at Nottingham Castle in order that the question of his appointment
to a post in the King's Foresters might be weighed and considered. As
for the Rangership of Locksley, that had already been given to one
Master John Ford, who would take up the duties so soon as Robin and
Mistress Fitzooth could arrange to render him the house at Locksley and
all it contained. To this end the Sheriff's messenger was empowered to
take stock and inventory of all furniture and belongings and to make
note of all things broken or in disrepair, since those would have to be
counted against them when they left the place.

Robin, not knowing the worse indignities that were to befall did he come
to Nottingham, for reply flung the letter into the messenger's face.

"Go, take back this answer to your master," flamed the lad. "Locksley is
my mother's and my own and not the Sheriff of Nottingham's. Further,
tell him that I will administer Locksley Woods, and the men shall obey
me even as they did my father: and this is all that I say in answer to
your insolent lord."

"Take this also, fellow," cried Stuteley, heroically: "that my master's
squire will very instantly do battle on his behalf with all enemies at
quarter-staff, single-stick, or at wrestling with the hands."

"Be sure that you will need practice in all your tricks, friend,"
snarled the messenger, wrathfully; "Master Monceux will send you enough
of pupils and to spare! And I will be glad to have a bout with you."

"Now, if you sicken for't," said Will, valiantly; but Robin bade him be
still.

The messenger went back to Nottingham; and Robin continued to go about
the duties of a ranger.

On the fifth day after the man's visit, however, one of the Locksley
foresters refused to obey young Fitzooth, saying that he had no right to
command him.

"I have this right, that you shall obey me!" cried Robin, and he bade
Warrenton and Stuteley to seize the man and deprive him of his longbow
and quiver. Nor would he suffer the forester to become repossessed of
them until he had humbly asked pardon. Thereafter, seeing that this
youth had a man's determination, the men remained loyal to him.

Within ten days came Master Ford himself, at the head of ten fellows,
armed with such powers of forcible entry as the Sheriff could grant.
Robin received the forester civilly, but told him plainly that Locksley
was his and that he would keep it to his death.

Master Ford smiled very superior to these brave words. "Death, Master
Robin, is a thing a long way off from us both, I do conceive," said he.
"Therefore is there small valiance in your prating so lightly of it.
This matter is one not between ourselves, howbeit, for the Rangership
has come to me through no seeking of mine own. The quarrel, if there be
one, is between yourself and Master Monceux; and, in reason, you should
let me into possession here, and take your anger to Nottingham."

"I speak to the Sheriff in that I speak to you, John Ford," retorted the
lad: "and you have had your answer. Take back your men and yourself; be
content with the captaincy of the foresters of Sherwood. This part of
the forest will be administered, under the King's pleasure, by me."

"What if I could show you the King's dismissal of your father?" snarled
the other.

"If you could show it to me, you would," answered Robin, calmly.

"Nevertheless, I will show it to you, insolent," cried Master Ford,
losing his temper. "In Nottingham we can play at other games than those
you saw at the Fair, Robin o' th' Hood," he went on, furiously, and
giving Robin this name out of desire to prick him.

To young Robin the epithet recalled a sudden vision of the maid
Fitzwalter and her queer little toss of her curls as she had christened
him. Ford must have been near to have overheard it. So was there double
insult in his words.

Robin looked him full in the face, and then turned contemptuously from
him. "Play all the games you know, friend," said he: and walked into the
house.

The forester bit his lip in vexation. He scarce knew how to act. The
Sheriff had told him to take forcible possession of the house, but this
might only be done now after a sanguinary encounter. For Warrenton, the
Squire of Gamewell's man, was there, and had eyed him malevolently, and
talk with the Locksley foresters had shown them to be now ranged on
Robin's side.

After waiting for three hours, Master Ford set about a return into
Nottingham, meaning to ask for permission to bring back the Sherwood
foresters with him to Locksley. In his return he was met by Will o' th'
Green and his men near Copmanhurst, was beaten and robbed of all he had,
and sent back in ignominious fashion into Nottingham town--he and all
the ten men that the Sheriff had sent with him!

Master Ford made a fine story of this for the greedy ears of Mistress
Monceux. She had always disliked the maid Fitzwalter; and had now seen a
chance to injure her through Robin. Since he had given this girl the
arrow which he had denied to her, the Sheriff's daughter, there could be
no doubt that strong friendship, at the least, existed between them, so
that any blow at Robin must recoil upon Mistress Fitzwalter.

Demoiselle Monceux therefore credited largely Master Ford's story.

"Go to the hall, and there await my father, Master Ford," said Mistress
Monceux, at last. "I will speak again with him when he has returned from
Gamewell. He is there now on your behalf, in a way," she added,
meaningly.

Monceux, knowing that Montfichet would require an explanation of the
refusal to instal Robin in his father's place, had set himself out to be
beforehand with the Squire. At once he had endeavored to satisfy old
Gamewell by telling him the story of the peacocked arrow. "Readily can I
unfold that mystery to you," said Montfichet. "Our Robin was pursued by
two of the outlaws when on the way to your tourney. 'Tis like enough
that he picked up one of their arrows."

"When they were in chase of him?" asked the Sheriff, with ready reply.

"Well, that is true; and yet, stay--I do mind me that the Clerk of
Copmanhurst did speak of some shooting match in which Robin was forced
to employ himself with Will o' th' Green, on the day that they journeyed
here from Locksley. Then it was that Robin must have become owner of the
peacocked arrow. The thing is quite plain to me."

"The clerk himself has been suspected of colleaguing with these robbers
of the forest, friend Gamewell," whispered the Sheriff, leaning forward
towards the Squire. "And they do say that Will was at our tourney--was
none other, indeed, than the very Roughbeard from whom young Robin so
cleverly did snatch my arrow of gold. Nay, nay, I think the evidence
points very strongly against Fitzooth; yet since he is your nephew I
have forborne to press my charge against him."

"I'll believe no harm of Robin," said the Squire, decisively.

"Still you will see there is reason in my refusal of his request,"
smiled Monceux. And old Gamewell had to agree, although unwillingly.

So were the clouds upon Robin's horizon gathering apace.

He gravely continued in his duties at Locksley, filling up his leisure
with long and frequent practice in archery with Warrenton. A month went
by and he had heard no more of Master Ford nor of the Sheriff, and so
engrossed did Robin become in his present life and the necessity of
making a living for them all that Master Monceux, his summons, and his
"appointment" of Ford were forgotten.

He killed such of the deer as his father had, under the King's charter,
for their own sustenance, and gathered the fruits from the garden at
Locksley. There were cows to be milked and sheep to be sheared.

The men worked for him without question. There had been no further
rebellion since Warrenton and Stuteley had so promptly checked the first
sign of it.

The Squire had sent twice to them such presents as he knew they would
accept, and he made no mention of Master Monceux.

Only one matter troubled Robin. Soon would come round the time when the
emoluments of the Rangership would be due; and _then_ Robin would have
to face the Sheriff and make him pay the moneys.

Having stifled any objections Montfichet might have had to his refusal
to recognize Robin as Ranger, the Sheriff was quite content to bide his
time, knowing that once in Nottingham, Robin would be entirely in his
power. Unforeseen events, however, upset these schemes and hastened
matters, even while Robin was perfecting himself in the use of the
longbow under Warrenton and in the art of wrestling with little lithe
Stuteley. The lean-faced man whom he saw at the tourney returned
suddenly to Nottingham from London, bearing news to the Sheriff that he
was to prepare the town at once for a visit from the young Prince John.

Master Simeon Carfax, to give the lean-faced one his full style, bade
them arrange for a great tourney to be held in Sherwood itself.

"Certes, Prince John may well be King over us in the end," murmured the
Sheriff to himself; and he dismissed all thought of Robin and his
defiance.

The Sheriff had some suspicion that Master Carfax had had more to do
with this sudden visit of the erstwhile rebellious Prince than that
pinch-nosed gentleman would allow. Further, he saw with some misgiving
that between Carfax and his own daughter there was an understanding, and
he decided to speak firmly with her; but, as she was still vexed with
him for not having dealt with young Fitzooth as promptly as she had
designed, the Sheriff thought it wise to wait his opportunity.

Meanwhile Robin passed his days equably: and now he could notch
Warrenton's shaft at one hundred paces, a feat difficult in the extreme.

The old retainer took huge delight in training the lad. "I do hear of a
brave business in archery to be done in Sherwood Forest," he said, "and
I would have you enter there in the lists, and bear away the Prince's
bag of gold, even as you did the Sheriff's arrow."

"Tell me of this, Warrenton," cried Robin, interested at once. "Where
did you learn this item?"

"'Twas told to me a week agone by the Friar of Copmanhurst, a right
worthy, pious gentleman," gabbled Warrenton. "It seems that the young
Prince is already tired of London ways and the Court of his father the
King, and has agreed to come here to us at Nottingham so that he may be
more free. He brings with him many of the fine ladies of the Court; and
full a hundred score of followers. And they do tell me that some of the
barons are with him, Master Fitzurse to wit. Howbeit, 'tis no matter of
ours. We have but to remember that he has offered a purse of a hundred
pieces to the best bowman in Nottingham town. That purse should be
yours, lording."

Robin smiled at the old man's emphatic speech. "When is this prize to be
offered, Warrenton, and what other marvels are there to be?"

The man-at-arms commenced afresh. "There is to be a tourney, held in
Sherwood Forest."

"Ay; but the archery?"

"I have told you that the Prince offers a fine prize. Know also that he
brings with him Hubert, the most renowned of all archers: so that he
deems the prize already won. The Prince puts a hundred gold pieces into
the purse, and Hubert pockets it in advance."

"Is he a fair bowman, this Hubert?"

"I know but one archer better than he, lording--yourself; and I have
seen the finest archery in the world."

"You talk heedlessly, Warrenton," said Robin, rebuking him. Yet secretly
he was flattered by this sincere belief in him.

"I'll go with you to Nottingham--and Stuteley shall stay here, on
guard," said Robin.

But Stuteley begged most earnestly that he should be allowed to go also,
so that Robin came nigh to giving up the plan all together. For he would
not consent to leave the dame unprotected.

In the end Warrenton himself, with fine self-sacrifice, offered to
remain at Locksley.

"It will be wisest that you should go unattended, after all, lording,"
concluded Warrenton. "Enter the lists unknown, unannounced, as though
you were some forester. Master Monceux means no good to you, and surely
he will be there. So be circumspect; and forget not the things that I
have taught you. Beat Hubert if you can, but be not overcome if you
should fail. He is a very pretty bowman, and experienced."




CHAPTER XI


Profiting by a lesson learned from Will o' th' Green, Robin stained his
face and bade Stuteley do the same ere starting to the Royal tourney.

The morning was overcast and doubtful when the two lads set forth. They
had put on foresters' clothes of green cloth, with long tunics and green
trunk hose. Their hands and faces were brown as walnut juice could make
them; and whilst Robin carried only his best longbow and a good quiver
of arrows, young Will had loaded himself with quarter-staff, axe, and
pike, all very difficult to carry.

Robin bade him leave one or the other of these weapons, and reluctantly
the pike was returned to Warrenton. Then merrily they started away
through the forest, and came at noon to that glade where Robin had first
met Will o' th' Green. Even while Robin wondered whether Will or his men
might again demand toll of him, Master Will himself suddenly appeared,
and without a word placed his bow across their path.

"Greetings to you, Will," said Robin, blithely. "Is it toll of us that
you desire?"

"Are you dumb, friend?" added Stuteley, impudently, as the outlaw made
no immediate reply.

Will smiled then. "So old Warrenton has persuaded you to seek the
Prince's gold, youngling?" said he, at last. Without waiting an answer,
he stepped back and withdrew his bow. "Pass, then, Locksley, and good
fortune attend you," he went on. "We may meet again ere the day be
done; but it is not sure----"

"You will not try for the purse, Will?" cried Robin, as if surprised.

"I have no use for it," answered Will, with some egotism, "Nay, fear
not, our third trial is yet to come. I did but stay you to speak of your
cousin--" He paused, and glanced towards Stuteley.

"I am deaf and dumb as you were, friend, a minute agone," spoke the
little esquire.

"Your cousin, Geoffrey of Montfichet, has gone to France," continued
Will, speaking freely so soon as Robin had nodded in confirmation of
Stuteley's discretion. "Like as not, Master Geoffrey has not talked with
you as to his business with us in this greenwood?"

"I know nothing beyond that we did bind my cousin's armor about with red
ribbon," replied Robin, uneasily. He remembered the clerk's warning, and
a presentiment of coming evil pricked him. "But I am right glad that
Geoffrey has encountered no danger, and has given up his schemes with
you."

"I did not say that he had done that, Locksley," spoke Will, in his
gruff way. "Nor do I see why you should fear danger for him when he is
in my company."

"I meant not that, Will, believe me," said Robin, hastily. "But there
are two amongst your band who have little love for my cousin, and are
jealous also of you----" And he told him of his adventure in the early
part of the day when they last had met.

Will listened with a frown. "So they winged you, youngling, and yet for
all that you won the Sheriff's arrow? Give me now some token whereby I
may know which of my men are traitors."

"I should only know their voices, Will," said Robin, regretfully.

The outlaw shrugged. "It matters not, after all," he remarked, turning
to leave them. "Go your ways, Locksley, and win the purse."

"Is there no toll?" enquired Robin, smiling again, "Am I truly free of
Sherwood, Will?"

"'Twould seem so, Locksley," said the outlaw, briefly. Then, without
further ado, he strode away from him.

They watched his lithe form disappear.

"'Tis sure that our disguise is none too good," sighed Robin, pondering
upon the ready way in which the outlaw had recognized him.

Soon afterward rain fell and a heavy storm raged amongst the trees. The
two youths crept into the hollow of one of the larger oaks to shelter
themselves. Whilst waiting there they heard the noise of an approaching
cavalcade. It was a body of archers coming from Lincoln to compete for
the purse of gold.

They cantered past the tree wherein Robin and Stuteley lay hidden, and
took no heed of the drenching rain. All were merry with wine and very
confident that one amongst them would surely win the prize. The only
question was, Which one?

"These Nottingham clods!" cried one, scornfully; "I'll dare swear that
many of them have already promised the prize to their maids! Nottingham
'gainst Lincoln--'tis possible that they may stand to us for a round.
But after that!"

"We will spend the money in Nottingham town," shouted another of the
trotting bowmen. "For sure the Prince himself could do no handsomer
thing. A piece I'll toss to the heralds, and another to you, Staveley,
for you are a covetous worm----"

The rest of his speech was lost through the one addressed turning
violently upon him and thrusting at him with his pike, thus tumbling him
into the mire. Stuteley laughed outright at this, and for a moment
startled the rest of this worshipful company.

Robin, rather vexed at his esquire's want of caution, came with him from
out of the hollow of the tree. The Lincolnshire men halted, and Robin
asked for a lift to the field where already the tourney was being
commenced.

"Are you going to the Sherwood tourney, and with a bow?" asked one of
the archers, loftily. "What will you shoot there, gipsy boy? There are
no targets such as your shafts might reach. But 'tis true that you may
learn something of the game, if you should go."

"I'll lay a crown wager with you, friends," said Stuteley, vexed to hear
Robin called "gipsy," "that my master's shaft will fly more near the
center of the mark than will any one of yours. So now."

"A crown piece, gipsy! Why, that means twenty crowns for you to find,"
laughed another of the men, loudly.

"Twenty crowns; why, he has not twenty pence," said another.

"My man has laid the wager and I will stand to it," said Robin, quietly,
"though I do not like such boasting, I promise you. Twenty crowns to
twenty crowns--who will hold the stakes? Here is my purse in warrant of
my words."

"Why, master, I am surely the very man to hold your purse!" called out
the lately fallen champion, readily. "Ask any of them here and (if they
have love of truth in them) they will say that Much the Miller is a man
of men for honesty, sobriety, and the like! 'Tis known throughout
Lincoln that never have I given short measure in all my life. Hand me
the purse and be easy."

"Show me your crown, friend," said Robin, eyeing him.

"Now, stirrup me but I have given my last piece to a poor beggar whom we
did meet in the wood."

"Then I will hold my purse myself, Master Much," cried Robin, putting it
quickly back into his bosom. "But have no fear; if you can beat me, I'll
add my crown to the Prince's money-bag. We will meet you here, friends,"
he continued, "beside this very tree, at noon to-morrow, if I should
win. If not, I'll yield this purse to the miller ere I leave the
tourney, and he shall share it round. Is it agreed?"

"I do think that you should pay for your travelling, gipsy, since you
are so rich," grunted the first archer. "Here's half my saddle: I'll
only ask a silver penny for a seat on it."

"I'll take you for nought, gipsy," shouted Much, who really was very
tipsy. "You've spoken fair; and I like you! Come, jump up behind me, and
hold tight. This horse is one of most wayward character."

"Hurry, then," said the leader. "Whilst we chatter here the tourney
will be done; and we shall happen on it just as Hubert takes the prize.
Forward, friends; quick march!"

They rattled off at a smart pace. Robin mounted behind the good-natured
Much, and Stuteley upon the captain's horse. The miller told Robin
confidentially a full score of times that he, Much, was bound to win the
archery contest, being admittedly the first bowman in the world.

"Harkee, gipsy," called he at length, over the point of his shoulder to
patient Robin behind him, "I'll not take your crown, I swear it! I like
you, and I would not rob your sweetheart of a penny piece. Buy ribbons
for her, then, with the crown I give you."

Robin expressed his thanks very cordially. This fellow seemed an
honest-hearted rogue; and 'twas mainly to his furious urging of his
steed that they arrived in time for the great event.

As it was, all the jousting was done, and most of the nobles had already
gone away. The Sheriff was fussily preparing himself to escort the
Prince to the castle when the horns blew announcing the arrival of the
Lincolnshire bowmen.

They had pushed their way clumsily through the array of tents, and now
blundered into the lists through the gate. Robin was glad indeed of his
stained face and semi-disguise, not being over proud of his companions.
He gave Will Stuteley a signal to detach himself from them, and come to
his side. The two youths then hastened to the archers' stand.

There had been three deaths already as a result of the joustings; and
six others were seriously injured; yet the Prince looked far from being
satisfied, and his glance strayed for ever to the gate.

When the Lincoln men had come noisily trooping in, his face had lit up
and his hand had made a half-movement to find the jewelled hilt of his
sword. Master Carfax, too, had started to his feet in evident concern.

When the heralds announced these new-comers, visible disappointment
showed on the faces of the Prince and his followers. Clearly they were
eagerly expecting the appearance of other folk; but, quickly recovering
himself, John re-found all the old elegance of his manners. He
courteously acknowledged the rough greeting of the archers, and sat back
smilingly in his box.

Master Monceux gave the signal for the archery contest to be begun; and
Robin soon saw that the archers against him were men very different from
those who had been at Nottingham Fair.

When it came to the turn of the Prince's own bowman, Hubert of
Normandy--a man slim, conceited, and over-dressed, but nevertheless a
very splendid archer--the first shaft flew so cleanly and so swift that
it pierced the very middle of the target and stuck out on the other side
full half its length.

Robin had to shoot immediately after him, and waited a few moments
whilst the markers were tugging at the Norman's arrow. A sudden
inspiration flashed across the lad's mind; and, advancing a step, he
bade them desist. They wonderingly fell back, leaving Hubert's arrow
fixed spitefully in the target.

One of the heralds cried out that this archer had not yet given in his
name, but even as he spoke, Robin's arrow flew hissing from his bow. A
silence fell upon the onlookers, and even the smiling Prince leaned
forward in his box. Then a great shout went up of amazement and
incredulity. The markers and heralds thronged about the target and hid
it from the general view until they were impatiently pulled away by some
of the Prince's bodyguard.

A marvel was seen then by all eyes--Robin's arrow standing stiffly out
from the center of the target, with Hubert's wand split down on either
side of it flush to the very face of the mark!

Robin himself could scarcely credit his own success. He had done the
thing before, with Warrenton, once out of a dozen times: and he had
essayed it now more out of bravado than aught else.

"'Twas a feat worthy of Hubert himself," said the Sheriff,
bombastically, to the Prince. He had not recognized Robin.

"I have seen Hubert perform just such a trick on many occasions, sir,"
said Carfax. "This fellow has done no uncommon thing, believe me," he
went on. "And after all, he has not bettered Hubert's shot."

"That is true," said the Prince, as if thoughtfully. His face showed
smiling again. "Let the contest go on: and Hubert shall shoot again with
this young trickster."

"The heralds say that he has not given in his name, sire," said one of
the courtiers.

"If that is so, his shooting is of no avail, be it never so good," cried
Carfax, triumphantly. "Tell them that the archer is disqualified, my
lord," he continued, addressing the Sheriff; "and bid them discover who
he may be."

Carfax turned again to the Prince, and began a whispered conversation
with him. The Prince listened, nodding his head in approval.

"Well, Monceux, what do they say?" he asked the Sheriff, languidly, as
the other returned.

"It seems, sire, that the archer is one who came in with a company of
Lincoln bowmen. No one knows him hereabout. I have said that he is
disqualified, and now the others will shoot again. But Hubert has now
the purse, for sure."

"In sooth I do think so," answered the Prince, laughing rather
conceitedly. "But Monceux, bid this lad to me forthwith. I would speak
with him."

The Sheriff went about the task; but Robin had disappeared; for
suddenly, amidst the throng, his eyes had encountered those strange
grey-blue ones of Mistress Fitzwalter.

She was sitting alone in a little box near by the targets. Robin had
walked down the lists to see for himself that his shaft had split the
Norman's fairly, and in turning away to find Stuteley he had become
aware of her shrewd, piercing gaze. She allowed her eyes to rest fully
on young Fitzooth's ardent glance for the briefest moment. Then she
looked away unconcernedly.

But Robin, venturing all, drew nigh. He came to the edge of her box, and
began to speak. He had gone so far as "Give you good morrow, lady," when
his eyes perceived the Sheriff's little golden arrow fastening her
cloak. His mouth became dry at that and his words went back in his
throat.

The girl, aware of his confusion, brought her gaze back upon him. She
smiled.

[Illustration: ROBIN MEETS MAID MARIAN

_But Robin, venturing all, drew nigh. He came to the edge of her box,
and began to speak._]

"Is it indeed my young champion?" asked she, rather doubtfully at first,
in her low, soft tones. "Is it you who have beaten the Prince's best
archer, Robin o' th' Hood?"

Her eyes were wells of innocent fun. The way in which she lingered over
the last syllables brought Robin still deeper into the deep waters.

"It is your servant, madame," was all that he could find to say.

"You see then that I wear your gift, Robin," she said, trying to make
him at ease. "I have not forgotten----"

"Nor I--I shall _never_ forget," cried he, impulsively. "Your eyes are
always in my memory: they are beautiful as stars," said he, fervently.

"Oh, a gallant Locksley! But there, take my colors, since you will be my
knight." She untied a ribbon from her hair, and gave it into his
outstretched palm. "And now, farewell; take the Prince's prize, and
spend the pennies worthily. Buy your sweetheart some ribbons, but keep
that which I have given you."

She tossed her curls again, as she added the last word. Robin was
beginning a vehement protestation that he had no sweetheart, when
Stuteley's voice broke in upon him.

"Master, they have disqualified you, and given the prize to Hubert. 'Tis
a vile injustice, and I have raised my voice furiously. So, alas! has
Master Much the Miller; he is a very worthy gentleman."

"What do you say?" asked Mistress Fitzwalter, in amazement.

"It is even so, lady, that my lord the Sheriff has ruled my master out
of the court, for the reason that he did not give in his name before
drawing his bow!" cried Stuteley. "A wicked conspiracy it is, and
monstrous unjust! 'Tis thus that these prizes are given; the game's
arranged beforehand. Ah, but I know how these Nottingham folk do plot:
thrice now have I found them false and treacherous."

When Stuteley had begun there were many who were ready to side with him,
but his unlucky conclusion turned these possible friends into enemies.
Even Mistress Fitzwalter drew back for an instant.

"Be silent, Will," said Robin, vexed at once. "It is enough to be
juggled out of this prize without your making it worse. I'll go claim it
from Monceux and he shall argue it with me."

"The Prince is asking for you, friend," said Carfax, suddenly appearing.
He touched Robin on the shoulder.

As he turned to depart, his gimlet eyes saw how the girl shrank away
from them into her box. He looked swiftly at her; then at Robin again.
"His Highness graciously condescended to enquire your name and rank,"
said he, pausing.

"Will he give the purse to me, then?" asked Robin, surprised.

"Nay, that has already been won by Master Hubert," answered Carfax, as
if amused at the question. "You cannot win a prize every day.
Master--Locksley."

He spoke at a shrewd guess, and saw that his shaft had hit the mark.
Mistress Fitzwalter's interest in Robin had given him the clue.

"I'll not go to the Prince," said Robin, wrathfully. "Tell him, Master
Fetch-and-Take, that I have won this prize in all fairness; and I will
shoot with Hubert again, if he needs another beating."

"You'll cool your heels in the stocks, Locksley," said Carfax,
viciously: "so much is evident. The Sheriff has a quarrel with you
already, and 'tis well that you are here to answer Master Ford's
complaint. The Prince will send for you in style, since you will not go
kindly to him. Bide but a few minutes. I'll not keep you waiting!"

He strode off, in heat, followed by Stuteley's scornful gibings.

Robin became aware that the people were eyeing them both with none too
friendly glances. He felt that he and Will Stuteley were in a difficult
position. Escape seemed to be out of the question.

"Jump over the ledge of my box, Robin," whispered a sudden small voice,
"and so make your way through the door at the back of it. Hasten!"

Gratefully Robin did as she bade him; and Stuteley, without waiting for
invitation, followed. Mistress Fitzwalter instantly opened the door for
them. "Hurry, I pray you," cried she; "I see them coming for you both.
The Prince has sent his pikemen----"

Robin pushed Will out before him; and, turning, caught her little hand
in his.

"Thanks, thanks," he muttered, hurriedly, and strove to kiss her
fingers.

Laughing and blushing, she snatched them away.

"Go," she cried, in agitated voice, "and stay not until you reach
Locksley. We may meet again--to talk of thanks," she added, seeing that
he still hesitated.

"Give me at least your name," panted poor Robin, at the door; "not that
I shall ever forget you."

"I am called Marian," answered she, closing the door ruthlessly upon
him--"Marian Fitzwalter.... Go now, I implore you, and may good fortune
be with you always."




CHAPTER XII


So, ingloriously, they returned through the night to Locksley. None
offered to stay them in the forest of Sherwood; indeed, Robin might well
have disbelieved in the existence of Will o' th' Green and his outlaw
band, had he not had such good reason to know otherwise. It was as if
Will had silently yielded him that freedom of the forest which he
boasted was his to give. Tired and footsore, yet filled with a strange
elation, Robin came back to Locksley before dawn, with faithful Stuteley
forlornly following him.

There were questions to be asked and answered when they arrived; and
Warrenton was very indignant when he heard of the Prince's gross
favoritism of his archer Hubert.

Robin seemed to show too little vexation in the matter, Warrenton
thought. The man-at-arms was both perplexed and amazed by the
semi-indifference displayed by the youth: here had he, by marvellous
skill, won a fine prize, and had seen the same snatched most unfairly
from him, and yet was not furiously enraged; but rather amused, as it
were.

"Surely, surely, you will go back with me to-morrow and demand the purse
from the Sheriff?" said Warrenton, in argumentative attitude. "Squire
George o' th' Hall shall give us the best of Gamewell to enforce respect
to you."

"Nay, it matters not so much as that, Warrenton. The money I would like
to have had, I'll not deny it; for it would have made me more
independent of Master Monceux. But it has not fallen to me, and there it
ends."

"Well, 'tis well that you are so easy, lording," said Warrenton,
scratching his head. "Now tell us whom you saw; and how you contrived to
split the Norman's arrow."

He had already heard the story: but was very fain to listen to it again.
"It is a trick that I taught him, dame," he added, off-handedly, to
Mistress Fitzooth. "One that did surprise the Norman too, I'll warrant
me. You see, they are so concerned with their crossbows and other
fal-lals in France that when good English yew----"

"I saw Master Will," said Robin, to check him. Once Warrenton was
started on a dissertation on the virtues of the English longbow there
was usually no staying him. "He told me that the Scarlet Knight had gone
to France."

Warrenton looked wise. "That is not worthy of belief, excellence," said
he, cunningly. "Prince John is near; and one cannot imagine that
Geoffrey of Montfichet----"

"Geoffrey of Montfichet?" asked the dame, wonderingly: and then
Warrenton saw how he had blundered. "Why, I did not know that you had
met your cousin, Robin. When was it, and why do you call him the Scarlet
Knight?"

"Geoffrey is outlawed, mother mine, and may not appear in Sherwood,"
answered Robin, temporizing with her. "And the story of our meeting is
too long a one for the moment. We are rarely fatigued, and I would
gladly get me to bed. Come, Will, rouse yourself. Mother, see that we do
not sleep too long. I must go to Gamewell by the day after to-morrow at
least; and there is much work between my going and now."

He had determined to ask the Squire to move again in the matter of the
Rangership for him whilst John was here. Even if the Prince had unduly
favored Hubert in the archery contest, it did not necessarily follow
that he would be unjust in such a plain business as this. Robin kissed
the dame, struggled with a yawn, and got him to rest. He slept uneasily,
his dreams being strangely compounded of happiness and grief.

       *       *       *       *       *

Within three days Robin started away for Gamewell, taking only Stuteley,
as before. He intended to make his return to Locksley ere dusk of the
next night.

When they were far advanced on their journey they heard sounds of a
large company upon the road; and prudently Robin bade Stuteley hide with
him in the undergrowth until they should see who these might be.

"Maybe 'tis the Sheriff, with Master Ford, coming to seize our home. By
watching them unseen we may find a way to bring their schemes to naught.
Keep near to me, Will; and scarcely breathe."

It was indeed a body of men from Nottingham; and, although the Sheriff
was not with them, Master Carfax and a few of the Lincoln bowmen were
amongst the company. So also was Ford, the forester.

In all, there were about two score of men, and most of them were
Sherwood foresters. Robin espied Much the Miller in the tail of the
procession, looking very dejected and ill, and decided to risk exposing
himself. Standing up in the bracken, he called out boldly: "Hold there,
Master Much. Here am I, ready to take your money."

"What sprite are you?" answered Much, reining in his steed sharply.
"Why! 'tis the gipsy lad, as I live; with his face nicely washed...!"
He had recognized Robin by his clothes. "Money, forsooth! Do you know
that I have not so much as a groat in my pouch?"

"Then must one of the others lend it to you," replied Robin. "Pay me,
friends, forthwith. A short reckoning is an easy reckoning. My arrow
flew nearer the target than did any of yours."

"How do you know that?" said Much. "After you had gone we all did aim
again, and very marvellous was my shooting. For sure, I should have had
the prize, even as I told you, had not Hubert already made off with it."

"Is this so?" asked Robin, doubtfully, looking from one to the other of
the Lincoln men. Those in front had now stopped also; and Master Carfax
came ambling back to see what had occasioned the delay. So soon as he
espied Robin his face took a joyful look. "Here, Master Ford," he
called, clapping his hands. "Hither--come hither! Here is your quarry
found for you. Now you can fight it out, fair and square, whilst we
watch to see fair play!"

Ford turned about and glanced at Robin; but he did not like the notion
of such a battle. So he affected not to recognize him. "Nay, this is but
some vagrant fellow," said he, hesitatingly. "Let us push on, Master
Simeon; 'tis near the hour when we are to meet with him whom you know."
He added these words in a low voice, and made a gesture indicating the
Copmanhurst road.

Carfax's face took a diabolical expression. He had begun to answer Ford,
when the whole party were suddenly disturbed by the rush of a great herd
of Royal deer.

These beasts, driven by someone from out of their pastures, came
scattering blindly adown the track; and men and horses moved quickly to
one side to avoid a devastating collision.

After they had passed, Carfax began again. "Form a ring, friends," cried
he, coaxingly. "Let neither of these fellows escape. They shall yield us
some sport, in any event, whether Ford be right or I."

A solitary stag at this instant appeared before them. He stood, as if
carved from stone, in the center of the road, at three hundred paces'
distance. He was clearly uncertain whether to dash through these his
usual enemies, in an attempt to rejoin the herd, or fly backward to that
unknown danger which had first startled them all.

"'Tis a fine beast," hiccoughed Much. "Now had I a steady hand!"

Simeon Carfax interrupted him. "By the Lord Harry, here is the very
thing," he said, in whispered excitement. "Now, fellow, you shall prove
me right and this forester wrong. I say you are Robin of Locksley, who
did split the Norman's arrow at the tourney. Fly a shaft now at yon
mark; surely none but such a bowman as yourself might dare hope to reach
it."

Robin fell into the very palpable trap set for him. Without answering
Carfax, he fitted an arrow to his bow, and sent speeding death to the
trembling stag. It fell, pierced cleanly to the heart. Robin eyed Ford
triumphantly.

But Master Carfax now held up his hands in horror. "See what you have
done, wicked youth," ejaculated he, as if quite overcome with dismay. "I
bade you shoot at yon birch-tree shimmering there to the left of the
deer. Did I not say: 'Fly at yon mark'? And now you have killed one of
the King's deer."

"I do hear that this fellow has slain others about Locksley," said Ford,
meanly. "You are right, Master Simeon; he is, in sooth, Robin of
Locksley; your eyes are wiser than mine. Seize him, my men."

At once the foresters sprang upon Robin and Stuteley, and a fierce
battle was commenced. Despite a valiant resistance, Robin and Will
Stuteley were soon overcome and bound hard and fast.

"You villains," panted Stuteley. "And you, most treacherous," he called
to Carfax, "I wish you joy of so contemptible a trick."

"All's fair in war, friend," answered Carfax. "Now, Master Ford, fulfil
your duty. You know the law; that if one be found killing the King's
deer in the Royal Forest of Sherwood, he or she may be summarily hanged
when caught upon the nearest tree."

"It must be _in flagrante delicto_, Master Simeon," said Ford, uneasy
again.

"Could there be a plainer case?" cried Carfax, rubbing his hands. "We
all did see this fellow shoot the deer. Tis the clearest case; and I do
counsel you to deal lawfully in it, Master Ford. Remember that he also
is suspected of being an outlaw, in that you saw him once use a
peacocked arrow. Although I am but a layman, as it were, friend," he
added, meaningly, "yet I do know the law, and shall be forced to quit my
conscience with the Prince when I return to Nottingham. Wherefore,
seeing that your appointment to Locksley still lacks his
confirmation----"

"I would rather bring the rogue to Master Monceux, as he did command
me," argued Ford, who could not quite brace himself to this. "Besides,
we have no leisure at this moment to carry out the law," he went on.
"You know that your master the Prince did start us on this journey with
two errands upon our shoulders."

"One was to deal with Robin of Locksley," said Carfax, snarlingly, and
without yielding his point.

"To take him to Nottingham, master, I say," put in Much. "I do not think
that the Prince meant you to harm him."

"Be silent, knave!" snapped the lean-faced man, sharply. "Who gave you
the right to question me? Shut your mouth, or I will have you accounted
as accomplice with these fellows, and put a noose about your bull-neck
also!"

"Why, harkee, master," said Much, very wrathful. "This is a game where
two can play or more. I do forthwith range myself with the gipsy; and
you, Midge," he added, turning to one of his company, "surely you will
follow?"

"Right instantly," answered the one called Midge, a little ferret of a
man.

"And I also." "And I, Master Much"--so spoke the remaining Lincoln men.

"So are we six, then," said Much. He tumbled off his horse, and the
other three of them did the like; and then strode over to where Robin
stood. "Release him," said the miller, determinedly; and he promptly
knocked two of the foresters sprawling.

This was the signal for a general encounter, and all threw themselves
very heartily into the mêlée.

The miller and his men struggled to release Robin and Stuteley so that
these might help in the fray; but the foresters were too many for them.
Twice did Much get his hands upon Robin's bonds, only to be plucked
violently backward. The men tumbled one upon the other in the fight,
pummelling, clutching, and tearing at each other in a wild confusion.
They made little noise, all being too desperately in earnest. Ford
encouraged his foresters by word and gesture; and Carfax kept himself as
far out of it as possible. Presently three of the foresters overpowered
the good-natured, still half-tipsy miller, and held him down.

Then Master Carfax sprang from his horse and rushed in upon the
prostrate miller. Seizing one of the foresters' pikes the lean-faced man
foully swung it down upon Much's pate with a sounding thwack. The miller
gave a groan and became limp in the hands of his assailants.

"Now, surely, that is the meanest of all the mean deeds which you have
done!" cried Robin. He tore at his bonds fiercely and vainly--biting at
the cord about his wrists with his teeth. Carfax ran to his horse. In an
instant he had returned with a cord taken from under his saddle. "I had
a notion that this might be useful to me when I set out this morn," he
said. "Put it about his neck soon as a noose is fashioned. Now fling the
end of it over this branch. Now draw it tight. Steadily, I pray you; be
not over-quick. The prisoner has the right to speak a prayer ere he be
hanged. Say it then, Robin of Locksley."

Robin caught sight at this instant of poor Stuteley's face. He had been
knocked down in the fight, and, being bound, had lain where he had
fallen. His eyes met Robin's in an anguished glance, and his lips
trembled in attempt at speech.

Robin strove to smile at him; but his own soul was sick within his body.
He felt the cord tighten again about his throat, but even as the world
reeled black, Robin heard dully the sound of a horn. In familiar tones
it came in upon his fainting brain. Next instant came a jerk at the
rope, futile, if infuriated; then, suddenly, contact with a body falling
heavily against his own.

As he fell he knew that something warm and horrid trickled upon his
hands. Then followed a vast confusion of noise: and, in the midst of it,
sweet peace.




CHAPTER XIII


When Robin came to his senses he found himself surrounded by the outlaw
band. On this occasion they appeared as friends, however--and welcome
ones to boot; for it had been a near matter that Robin's history had
been ended by Master Carfax on this day.

Now were the tables turned, and very completely. The foresters had been
overcome by Will and his outlaws, thanks to the diversion brought about
by the Lincoln men. Much was sitting up with a more rueful countenance
than he had when Robin had first spied him on this morning; and little
sharp-nosed Midge was busy bathing and binding his cracked poll.

Some half-score of the foresters, with Master Ford, had escaped along
the road towards Locksley: the rest were bound, and their horses
confiscated by the outlaws.

Master Simeon, with rage and terror depicted plainly upon his
countenance, lay writhing at Robin's feet, bound with the very cord with
which he had sought to end young Fitzooth's life. His enemies had
trussed him across a quarter-staff, and had tied the knots large and
tight about him.

"Well, Locksley, how now?" asked Will o' th' Green, with gruff
kindliness. "Are the vapors passed? Can you twiddle your bow again?"

"Not skilfully enough now to take place against you, Will," smiled
Robin, recovering himself more and more. "I am atrembling yet. I had
thought to see the blue sky no more----"

"Ay, my man's arrow was not too soon, Locksley," said Will, gravely.
"This fellow's hand was upon the rope, and another moment might have
seen you gallows-fruit upon this tree." He paused to bend over a
forester lying prone near them, with his face buried in the grass. Robin
saw that the man's body was transfixed by an arrow.

"He is no more," Will told them, looking up presently; "your aim was a
shrewd one, Hal," he went on, addressing himself to one of his band.

"Is he indeed _dead_?" asked Robin, in an awestruck voice.

"'Twas his life or yours," answered Will o' th' Green, grimly. He turned
to his men. "Now, comrades," cried he, "have you searched our prisoners
and prepared them? 'Tis well. Are they bound together, then, by the
arms, twos and threes, as is appointed in our rules; and is the right
leg and left leg of each villain shackled together?... Stand them up,
then, with their faces toward Nottingham, and bid them march."

"There is yet this one, captain," said one of the men, indicating
Carfax. "What shall we do with him?"

"Has he been searched closely?" enquired Will. Without waiting a reply,
he roughly ran his fingers through Master Carfax's pockets, and
unfastened his tunic at the bosom. A parchment dropped out and Will
snapped it up.

"I come from the Prince," whined Carfax, speaking at last; "and if so be
you are Master Will Cloudesley, or Will o' th' Green--as these folks do
call you--why, I have a very gracious message for you."

The outlaw gave a signal to his men. "Set him upon his feet," he
ordered, "and loosen these cords. Now, excellence, speak at your ease."

"Believe him not, Master Will," interposed Stuteley, afraid that Carfax
was going to turn the tables on them in some treacherous way. "He is a
very proper rogue."

"Be easy, friend," said Will o' th' Green. "Every one is judged here in
fairness. These men," pointing to the shamefaced, miserable foresters,
"were caught in the doing of an evil deed, and so were dealt with
summarily. But this one did not seem to have a hand in it."

"It was he who commanded them, sir," suddenly shrilled the little
Lincoln named Midge. "He is, in sooth, a diabolical villain, and did
very foully strike our companion here whilst men were holding him."

"All testify against you, excellence," said the outlaw, speaking again
to Carfax. "What is your story of it? Speak without fear."

"This rascal did imprudently waylay us on the road with a demand for
money," began Carfax, "and I, riding back at his noise, did recognize
him for one Robin Locksley, a notorious fellow who has defied my lord
the Sheriff's authority; and has also been suspect of being of your
company--which is a thing, saving your presence, Master Cloudesley, that
has been poor recommendation in the past. Further, with our own eyes
have we seen him shoot and kill one of his Majesty's stags, a most
valued beast with sixteen pointed antlers, as you can see. We were but
exercising the law upon him, as is appointed.... That is to say, _Master
Ford_ was directing his men to carry out the law," said Carfax, with his
thin cheeks pale with fear. "I did but counsel prudence, and plead for
the youth."

"Enough," cried Will, with contempt in his tones. "Now tell me the
message which the Prince has sent by so worthy a messenger."

"That is for your private ear," said Simeon, cunningly.

"You may speak plainly before my comrades," said Will. "Doubtless they
are as interested in the Royal words as I myself."

"I was to bid you come at once to the City gate, so many of you as
would," Carfax said, "there to receive the King's pardon from the hands
of our beloved Prince. Indeed, his gracious Highness did well expect to
see you before him three days agone, at the tourney."

"Dressed about with red ribbons, I trow?" enquired the outlaw, as if
helping him.

"Indeed yes, Master Cloudesley. You have said it, indeed. Knowledge of
your loyalty to us was brought to the Prince by me. By me, good friend,"
he repeated, insinuatingly. "And now give back to me my parchment--which,
being writ in the Latin tongue, is truly no more than a cartel to
my lord the Abbot of York--and let us set forth joyfully. For
henceforth ye will be as free men, and what is past will be forgotten."

"I can read you the scroll, Will," said Robin, quietly. "I have some
knowledge of the priestly tongue."

The outlaw handed him the scroll, and all waited in silence whilst
Robin deciphered it. Carfax snapped his teeth together in vexation at
this unexpected turn. "_He_ cannot read the parchment. Is it likely?" he
cried. "He will but pretend to read it, and make lies with which to
confound me. 'Tis writ in most scholarly Latin, that only few may
learn."

"There is treachery here for you, Will," spoke Robin, without heeding
these outcries. "This is a notification from the Prince to the Abbot of
York saying that his emissaries have sounded you and that you are ready
with your men to strike for him."

"I have said so much," commented Will, "naming three conditions."

"They are written herein: first, that a general amnesty is to be
granted; second, that the ban of excommunication is to be removed from
off you by the Holy Church; and third, that the Prince shall find your
men, afterward, honorable employment."

"That is so, Locksley. The letter is exact."

"So the Prince writes to the Abbot, asking him to promise the second of
your conditions, saying that it need be only a promise, for he has not
the least intention of holding to a bargain with one so evil as
yourself, and that after he has won the throne from Henry his father,
matters such as these will be disposed of by his soldiery, if need be."

"It is not true," screamed Carfax. "He lies to you, Master Cloudesley,
seeking to be revenged on me."

"Any clerk can read these lines to you, Will," answered Robin. "The
Prince continues praying for the welfare of them all at York, and saying
that he has already promised in the Abbot's name that the loan shall be
taken off; that the Abbot is to receive and watch narrowly one Geoffrey
of Montfichet, who has been exiled for treason, but who now imprudently
has returned to work on their behalf in England."

"Now do I know that you are reading truly," cried Will, and his brow
grew black. "For how could you know that your cousin was concerned in
this? You false-hearted knave," he added, turning to Carfax, "false as
your false master--your doom is sealed. Tie him up by his heels, and let
him hang head downward from this tree whereon he would have hung gallant
Locksley. Be speedy, men."

At this Simeon Carfax became as one quite demented, and Robin
interposed.

"Let us not punish the man for his master's fault, Will," cried he.
"Deal with him only on the score of my quarrel with him, when I shall
say--let him go. For I should always feel shame were we to be as harsh
with an enemy as he would be with us. It would show us no better then
he."

"Take him then, since Locksley will have it so, and tie his legs under
the belly of his horse--first setting him face to tail upon it," said
Will. "And you, Hal, go and cut me the antlers from off yon poor beast."

When this was done he caused his men to attach the horns by means of a
cord to Master Carfax's head; then, with his own hand, Will gave the
horse a lead towards Nottingham.

Then, with a "view halloo," the steed bearing the unfortunate man was
started in real earnest; and the foresters sent staggering by after it
along the road to Nottingham.

When they were out of sight, Robin thanked the outlaw again for all
that he had done for them. Will merely shrugged his shoulders, as one
who would say: "'Tis a matter not worth breath"; and, giving his men a
signal, prepared to return to his own fastnesses. Robin begged them to
take the body of the deer, and, with small reluctance, the outlaws
accepted the offer.

The Lincoln men bade Robin farewell also, saying that they would now go
on towards their own homes with a light heart: for, having met the
outlaws and found them most agreeable company, they had no more fear of
Sherwood.

So Robin and little Stuteley, waving farewell to all these strange
friends, moved on towards Gamewell, although Robin really had little
hope now of coming by the Prince's grace into what seemed to be but his
rights. The Sheriff and Simeon Carfax would attend to that, no doubt.

A curious dejection settled upon Robin. He had nothing but gloomy
thoughts upon him as he trudged towards the Squire's domain. Nor did his
spirits rise at his reception by old Gamewell. The Squire appeared
almost uneasy with him; and was short in his speech, although once or
twice a kindlier light flashed in his bright eyes.

"Already he regrets that he should have pressed me to take up the
Montfichet name," thought Robin to himself, imagining that herein was
the cause of the Squire's distemper.

He began to tell Montfichet of their doings and adventures: but had no
sooner come to that part of the narrative referring to the Prince's
purse than the Squire broke out: "Talk not to me of that man," cried he,
vehemently. "He is an unworthy son of a much-tried father. Forsooth,
this has become an age of disobedience and unfilial behavior; one has
but to look round to find most sons alike. The Fifth Commandment is now
without meaning to the younger generation."

"I have no father, sir," said poor Robin, half in defense; for Gamewell
looked so fiercely at him. "Nor do I seek to keep you to your offer,"
added he, in his thoughts.

"I was not thinking so much of you, boy," replied the Squire; and again
a better expression shone briefly in his face. "Give you good night,
Robin Locksley--you know your chamber. Sleep well and we will talk
together in the morning."

       *       *       *       *       *

The morning saw no easement of the Squire's attitude towards Robin; and
as soon as breakfast was ended he determined to go without wasting
breath upon the errand which had brought him.

"For sure, he is repenting of his offer," reasoned Robin. "Perchance
already his heart is moved again towards Geoffrey, and who shall be more
glad than I to find this so? I'll let the Squire think it comes from
me--as in truth it does--this whimsey to prefer the name of Fitzooth to
Montfichet!"

So bravely, as he was about to leave him, Robin spoke to the old man.

"Sir," he said, "I have it in me to speak plain words with you, and I
may."

"Have no fear, boy. I am one who loves an open mind." Montfichet spoke
with meaning.

"Well, sir, I would say with reference to that which you once did press
upon my mother and myself--that I should take your name and
half-fortune with my cousin Geoffrey--that I have thought well upon your
kind offer."

"There was to be a year go by, Master Fitzooth, ere you should give
answer."

"In a year or now, sir," said Robin, firmly, "I cannot see that I should
accept. I have no quarrel with my cousin, and I will not come between
him and your heart--which pleads against yourself on his behalf."

Montfichet broke forth then, and Robin learned suddenly what had come
between him and this strange, capricious man.

"No quarrel with Geoffrey, say you?" he shouted, bringing his fist down
with violence upon the oak table. "No, I trow you have not, Robin
Fitzooth! But I have a quarrel both with him and you. Know that I have
heard the story of your escapade with that mean son of mine, who must
come prowling like a thief in the night about the walls of Gamewell. I
know the Scarlet Knight's secret, and yours--who did think it brave to
deceive and outwit an old man."

"Sir, sir!" began Robin, aghast at this storm.

"Nay, I will hear no more of it. Treachery and deceit--always they hang
about my house. You deceived me, Robin Fitzooth, and cozened my servant
Warrenton. So I cast you out of my heart for ever. For the rest of my
days I will be sufficient unto myself: after I am gone, the dogs may
quarrel above my grave for the bones of Gamewell."

He almost pushed Robin from him, and turned brusquely away. Dazed and
confounded, Robin faltered rather than walked to reach Stuteley, who
stood awaiting him in the courtyard. Without a word, Robin took his
hand. "Come, Will; let us go," he muttered, thickly: and with wrathful
heart Robin Fitzooth shook the dust of Gamewell from off his feet.

Faintly through his mind came memory of the clerk's warning: but it was
all of it so unjust! He had never intended to deceive the Squire: all
that he had done had been done without thought. After all, what fault
had he committed against Montfichet?

"'Fore Heaven," said Robin, furiously, "I never will speak with that man
again--nor cross the threshold of his house!"

So the clouds gathered more and more thickly over the head of Robin
Fitzooth.




CHAPTER XIV


The Demoiselle Marie was behind all this. She had known Geoffrey's plans
from her lover, Master Carfax; for Master Carfax had had interviews with
those two of Will's band, Roger and Micah, the traitors sworn against
Geoffrey.

'Twas all wheel within wheel and plot within plot. Carfax had by nature
a face made to show differently on either side of it. Thus he was in
service with the Prince; and, whilst knowing the younger Montfichet to
be his master's ally, affected outwardly to recognize him as one against
whom the hands of all righteous men should be raised.

Master Simeon had gone forth with the Prince's message to Will o' th'
Green, and with John Ford, in order that he might install that latter
worthy at Locksley. Afterward Simeon was to journey to the Priory of
York, as we know. Marie Monceux, to complete Robin's undoing, bade her
father go to Gamewell and there tell Montfichet how Robin had helped
Geoffrey to his scarlet-ribboned horse, giving the Squire the story as
it had come through the two false outlaws. Certain proof she sent in a
strip of the red cloth which Montfichet well knew to belong only to his
house at Gamewell.

So suddenly Montfichet's mind was poisoned against Robin; with the
result that we have seen. The Squire began now to believe Ford's tale
that young Fitzooth was of the outlaw band, and at once withdrew all
support of Robin so far as the Rangership of Locksley was concerned.
"No doubt," thought the Squire, bitterly, "he is son of his father in
discontent and false pride. Fitzooth never was frank with me, and has
trained his son to distrust and deceive all men."

Truly the Sheriff's daughter was exacting full penalty for Robin's
disregard of her at the Nottingham Fair.

She had employed her hand also against the maid Fitzwalter, as we shall
find later.

Robin, in forbidding silence, strode along the road until they neared
the shrine of St. Dunstan, when he looked eagerly toward the stout
little hut of the clerk, hoping to find his old friend standing at the
door of it, with his barking dogs.

All was silent, however, and deserted. To Robin's surprise, the gate of
the palisade stood wide open; and the door of the hut also. He glanced
at Will.

"Surely the priest is abroad imprudently, master?" said young Stuteley.
"See how he has left his little house--open to the world! He must be of
a very trusting nature for sure."

"I remember now that the gate was unlatched yesterday," spoke Robin,
slowly. "I noticed it then and meant to talk with you on the point,
Will. I hope that no evil has befallen the clerk."

"'Tis three weeks or more since we have had tidings of him," said
Stuteley. "Shall we go in and make search?"

They entered the rude dwelling and soon exhausted every hole and corner
of it in a vain hunt for some token of the clerk. The kennels at the
back were empty and forlorn; and some bread which they found in the
hermit's tiny larder was mouldy and very stale.

"Let us push on to Locksley, Will; mayhap we shall have better cheer
waiting us there!"

They trudged on quietly. His master's depression had reached and
overcome merry Stuteley. They began unconsciously to walk quickly and
more quickly still as they approached Locksley. The day was overcast and
very still.

Presently Robin, throwing back his head, sniffed the air.

"Surely there is a strange smell in these woods, Will? Does it not seem
to you that there is a taste of burning grasses in the breeze?"

"Master," answered Stuteley, his face suddenly paling at some inner
fear, "I do smell fire such as a blazing house would give forth. Well do
I know the scent of it; having seen our own home burned last year."

"Hurry, hurry, Will; my heart misgives me. Some further disaster is upon
us. This is my evil day, I know. Hurry, for the love of me!"

They set off at a frenzied scamper through the woods, taking the short
footpath which would lead them to the back of the house of Locksley.
Robin broke through the trees and undergrowth and hastily scaled the
fence that railed off their garden from the wild woods.

A dread sight met his starting eyes. Dull brown smoke curled from under
the eaves of his home in dense clouds; the windows were gaping rounds
from which ever and anon red flames gushed forth; a torrid heat was
added to the sickening odor of the doomed homestead.

Somebody grasped him by the hand.

"Thanks be that you are returned, excellence," spoke a rough voice, with
emotion. "This is a sorry welcome."

"My mother?" gasped Robin, blankly, and his heart stood still for
Warrenton's answer.

"Not a hair of her head has been touched. Old Warrenton would not stand
here to tell you the sorry tale were it otherwise. But the house must
go; 'tis too old and dry a place for mortal hand to save."

Stuteley had joined them by this, and the three gazed for a minute in
stupefied silence on the flaming destruction of that home so dear to
Robin Fitzooth. Warrenton, grimed and righteously angry, began his tale.

Yesterday, at dusk, the sound of a winding horn had brought them all
anxiously to the garden. "We thought that you had returned with young
Stuteley," said the old man-at-arms; "but we found ourselves facing none
other than Master Ford the forester, with about six or more of the most
insolent of his men. Peremptorily be bade us deliver up this house to
him, pulling out a warrant from his bosom and waving it before your
mother's face."

"Ford, was it?" questioned Robin. Then light broke in upon him.
Yesterday, after the battle between Will's band and that of Master
Carfax, some of the defeated foresters had fled to the north of
Sherwood.

"You must bear up, young master," said Warrenton; "the Squire will
doubtless build you a new home."

"Alas, Warrenton! Master Montfichet has turned against me now," said
Robin then, "and against you also. Continue your story, and you shall
hear ours when you have done."

So Warrenton continued, telling them how John Ford had made an attempt
to seize the place: how Warrenton and the few servants had striven to
beat him back: and how, after valiant fighting, they had succeeded in
keeping them from taking the house at least. The garden they could not
retain; but Warrenton, having established himself at one of the upper
windows, had so shrewdly flown his arrows, that Ford himself had been
wounded and one of his men killed outright.

Night had fallen upon them in this way, and the dame thought that it
would be a good scheme for one of her maids to now endeavor to slip out
and arouse the village to their help. One of the women therefore essayed
the journey; but was so clumsy as to attract the enemy's attention. She
was seized and made to confess how the house was protected and where it
was most likely to fall before a sharp assault. Being a witless wench,
she told them truly, and Master Ford then bade her help them collect
sticks and leaves in order that they might be able to fire the place as
a last resource.

Those within had thought that the girl had managed to evade danger, and
cheerfully waited for help from the village.

A determined attack was commenced at daybreak; and Ford and his men
succeeded in gaining possession of the kitchens without loss. Another of
the servants was captured, also a second maid-servant was injured by an
arrow, so seriously as to die within twenty minutes.

Warrenton kept the stairs and barricaded the inner door from the
kitchens by putting tables and chairs against it. At length a parley was

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