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
called, and Ford shouted his conditions through the keyhole. The
besieged then learned that the distant village was still unaware of
their peril. Ford offered to let them all go forth free, if now they
would yield up the house to him.
Mistress Fitzooth had a mind to accept, but Warrenton counselled no.
After a long argument Ford swore that he would burn the house over their
heads if they did not surrender it within an hour; and, going back to
the garden, he began to bring in the loose dry pieces of wood and sticks
he and his men had collected in the night.
At three hours after noon, Ford, having given one more warning to them,
had bidden his fellows do the worst. In a few moments the smell of
burning filled the house; and Mistress Fitzooth became as one
distraught.
"We had two women left to us," Warrenton continued, "and a lad, who was
worth as much as a man to me. I bade them open the door softly, and rush
forth whilst the wretches were employed at their fiendish work in the
rear. This we did, and so gained, unperceived, the little shed near by
the gate. From a crack in the boards, I could command bowshot of the
whole front; and I had given the lad a bow of yours. The two maids,
taking your mother's hands, pulled her along under the hedge until they
gained the road. Then all three ran furiously toward the village.
"We who were left behind had not long to wait. Presently, one came round
to the front with a piece of flaming wood and boldly thrust it through
the nearest lattice. Him I killed at once with an arrow through the
back. They were now but five against us. Presently two others came
stealthily from the back: but, seeing their companion dead, ran back
hastily.
"Master Ford appeared next, and began to look suspiciously about him.
His fellow had rolled over in his death-struggles, and so might have
been slain from my window in the house-front. Curls of smoke were coming
up from under the thatch by now; and Ford, making up his mind, ran out
with the others, and flung himself upon the door.
"We had left it latched; and so it gave enough of resistance in his
blind attack to justify him in believing it was still held from within.
It fell inwards, at last, with a crash; and Ford sprang triumphantly
across the threshold. His fellows rushed after him, trying now to beat
out the fire."
Warrenton paused, and all fell again to watching the leaping flames.
"Meanwhile I guessed that your mother was safe, and had already alarmed
the villagers," continued the old retainer. "So, with a shout, I rushed
out upon the villains, with the lad, and pulled the broken door back to
its place, shutting them in, that they might enjoy their own fell work
in all security. Two of them did attempt escape just since by leaping
from out of the window. But my bow was ready strung for them."
"Have you killed four men, then, Warrenton?" said Robin, his blood
running cold. Then suddenly the full meaning of it flashed upon him.
"And Ford?" he cried, with a gesture of horror, "and the two others?"
"Nay," said Warrenton, grimly. "I had come round here to see whether
they had preference for fire or for my arrows, having left the boy to
guard the front. Then I saw you and young Stuteley, and in my chattering
I had nigh come to forget them. But there is Master Ford beckoning to
us from your own room."
A frenzied, dreadful figure had indeed appeared for a brief instant
amongst the thick curling smoke. It waved two hopeless hands out towards
the falling dusk, and then incontinently vanished.
A thin scream sounded in Robin's ears, as a rush of flame mercifully
swallowed up this apparition: like as not, 'twas the sound of the fire
itself. The end had come, both to the unhappy foresters and Robin's
home. With a huge torrent of noise the roof of it crushed in, half
stifling the fire.
Then the flames seized full mastery; and amid a shower of sparks, the
red tongues licked and devoured the last of their prey.
* * * * *
Robin hastened to find his mother, that he might be relieved of his
anxiety and be rid for the moment of the sight of the awful catastrophe
of the fire. Warrenton and Stuteley rushed in together, at his command,
to try to save the two remaining foresters; but it was a very forlorn
hope. Warrenton in his just revenge had pushed things to their extreme
limits: Master Ford and all his band had paid the utmost penalty of
their failure to overcome this relentless old man.
Mistress Fitzooth had secured refuge and was now much calmer. She
embraced her son and wept over him in joy at this reunion. Robin could
see, however, that she was indeed much overwrought by these troubles.
She had not yet recovered from the loss of her husband.
They stayed with these poor people, who found room for them somehow,
out of sheer charity, for neither Robin nor the dame had any money. It
was a bitter business, in sooth: and next day Robin, finding his mother
far from well, humbled himself to beg assistance from the Squire. He
despatched the letter by Warrenton, and then patiently set himself to
wait a reply.
Also, he determined to seek an audience with the Prince. His home had
been burned, his small patrimony gone: he had now no means of keeping
himself and the dame from starvation save by living on another man's
bread.
The clerk, his one tried friend, was gone--no one knew where.
The Prince would surely yield him the right to be Ranger at Locksley in
his father's place! The house had been given to dead Hugh Fitzooth by
Henry, the King.
An uneasy feeling took possession of Robin, for Warrenton had defied and
overcome the Sheriff's man when he had been properly empowered to expel
mother and son from Locksley, and there were seven dead men, nay eight,
to be accounted for--and they were all of them King's Foresters.
* * * * *
Montfichet answered him by sending a purse of money and a curt letter
saying that Mistress Fitzooth was to come to Gamewell, where for the
rest of her days she would always find a home. For Robin he could do
nothing: already the Sheriff had drawn up a proclamation of outlawry
against him, setting the price of a hundred crowns upon him, living or
dead.