As the days sped on and nothing was heard of Little John, Robin began to
grow more and more anxious. He made up his mind to go himself into
Nottingham and there see Marian, and discover and (if need be) rescue
his faithful herdsman.
All the greenwood men were against him in this, however, and for once
had their own way. "Let me go, Master," begged Stuteley; "for my life is
of little account compared with yours."
"I will go," said Scarlett. "There is no such animus in the Sheriff's
mind against me as he hath against the rest of you. I can ask for Master
Carfax and he will perforce treat me fairly."
"I am not so sure of it," said Robin, significantly; "I would not trust
Master Simeon further than a rope would hold him. Still, what you say is
fair enough, cousin, and if you will go into the city for us we shall
all be grateful. For my part, I would dearly like to accompany you."
"Your duty is here," answered Scarlett. "Rely on me. I will find out
what hath chanced to Little John, and will also attend Mistress
Fitzwalter."
Will Scarlett started at once, and bore himself so well that he made
sight of Gamewell within two hours. He paused for a moment without his
father's house, regarding the old place with half scornful eyes. Then,
"What is to be, must be," said Will, to hearten himself.
He walked on toward Nottingham meditatively. If he could have met old
Gamewell then and there he would have stopped him and asked his
forgiveness. 'Twas in the morning, the sweet fresh morn, in the happy
woods, wherein birds fluttered and sang tenderly, and the peaceful deer
fed placidly on the close grass of the glades.
This sylvan picture was disturbed rudely for him. A stag, wild and
furious, dashed out suddenly from amongst the trees, scattering the does
in terrified alarm. The vicious beast eyed Will in his bright dress,
and, lowering its head, charged at him furiously. Will nimbly sprang
aside, and having gained shelter of an oak, scrambled hurriedly into its
branches.
The stag turned about and dashed itself at the tree.
"Now am I right glad not to be in your path, gentle friend," murmured
Scarlett, trying to fix himself on the branches so that he might be able
to draw an arrow. "Sorry indeed would be anyone's plight who should
encounter you in this black humor."
Scarcely had he spoken when he saw the stag suddenly startle and fix its
glances rigidly on the bushes to the left of it. These were parted by a
delicate hand, and through the opening appeared the figure of a young
girl. She advanced, unconscious alike of Will's horrified gaze and the
evil fury of the stag.
She saw the beast, standing as if irresolute, there, and held out her
hand to it with a pretty gesture, making a little sound with her lips as
if to call it to her side. "For the love of God, dear lady----" cried
Will.
And then the words died on his throat. With a savage snort of rage the
beast had rushed at this easy victim, and with a side blow of its
antlers had stretched her upon the ground. It now lowered its head,
preparing to gore her to death.
Already its cruel horns had brushed across her once. A piteous cry rang
through the woods. Will set his teeth, and swung himself to the ground
noiselessly.
Then he quickly dropped to his knee, and was aiming his shaft whilst the
stag was making ready for a more deadly effort. Will's arrow struck it
with terrific force full in the center of its forehead. The stag fell
dead across the body of the fainting maid.
Will Scarlett had soon dragged the beast from off the girl, and had
picked her up in his strong arms. He bore her swiftly to the side of one
of the many brooks in the vale.
He dashed cool water upon her face, roughly almost, in his agony of fear
that she was already dead, and he could have shed tears of joy to see
those poor closed eyelids tremble. He redoubled his efforts; and
presently she gave a little gasp: "Where am I, what is't?"
"You are here, dear maid, in the forest of Sherwood, and are safe."
She opened her eyes then, and sat up. "Methinks that there was danger
about me, and death," she said, wonderingly. Then recognition shone in
her face, and she incontinently began to bind her fallen hair and tidy
her disordered dress. "Is it you, indeed, Master Scarlett?" she asked.
"Ay, 'tis I. And, thank Heaven, in time to do you a service." Will's
tones were deep and full of feeling.
"I am always in your debt, Master Will," she said, pouting, "and now you
have me at grievous disadvantage. Tell me where you have been, and why
you did leave cousin Richard and France?"
"Once I had no safety there," replied Will, with meaning, "neither for
myself nor for my heart. As for my leaving Richard's Court, why,
foolishly, I would be always where you are."
"So you have followed me, then; is that what I am to believe?" The maid
smiled. "I will confess, I did know that you were come to London, and I
was glad, Will, for I had not too many friends in England, nor have them
now, it would seem. But why was there no safety for you in London? And
where have you hidden yourself of late?"
"There is a price upon my head. I am in exile. You know me as Will
Scarlett, but in sooth my name is not so Saxon."
"I hate the Saxons," said the maid, pettishly. She had risen to her
feet, but still was troubled about her tumbled hair. "I am to be married
to one, and so have run away. That is why I am wandering in this stupid
wood."
"Call it not stupid, it hath brought you to me once more," whispered
Will, taking her hands; "and so you do not love this man after all? Is
it so? Had I but known!"
"Didst leave London because of _that_?" asked she, lightly. "Ay, but men
know how to cozen us! I'll not believe a foolish thing, not if you were
to tell it me a thousand times."
"I'll tell it to you once, sweetheart. I did leave London because I
learned that you were to be married to another. Life had no more to
teach me than that one thing, and it was enough. For what was left for
me to learn? I had loved you and loved you so well, and had loved you in
vain."
"Had loved, Will? Is thy love so small, then, that it burns out like a
candle, within an hour? I had believed----"
But Master Scarlett suddenly took this wilful maid to his heart. "I do
love you, oh, my dear, with all my body and my life--till the end of
ends, in waking and sleeping. And so I pledge my troth."
She struggled out of his arms. "I am encumbered with wild beasts at each
step," cried she, all rosy and breathless. "One would kill me for blind
rage, the other for love. Oh, I do not know which to fear the most.
There, you may kiss my hand, Will, and I will take you for my man, since
it seems that I am to be married whether I will or no. But _you_ must
carry the tidings to my Saxon in York, and, beshrew me, I hope he will
not take it too hardly, for your sake."
"And yours also." Scarlett was holding her again.
"I like you well enough to be sorry if he should hurt you," said this
teasing little Princess. She looked up at him, and then dropped her
lashes. "Do you _truly_ love me, Will? For truly do I love you."
And so the Princess of Aragon elected to marry Geoffrey of Montfichet,
notwithstanding the politic choice of husband made for her by the wise
old men in London town.
They walked on together towards Nottingham, quietly, and in deep content
with the world.
They encountered a stately little cavalcade near by the gates of the
city, and knew themselves observed ere they could hope to avoid them.
Putting a bold face on it, the lovers stood on one side, to permit this
company to pass them.
An old man, richly dressed, came first, followed at a respectful
distance by six horsemen.
The Princess watched them in happy indifference. Her frank glance roved
from one to the other of the would-be steadfast faces before her. She
turned her head to gaze again at the absorbed old man who led the
company.
Then she checked herself in a little exclamation; and hastily averted
her face. It was too late, the old fellow had been roused from his
apathy. He reined in his grey horse, and asked over his shoulder: "Who
are these, Jacquelaine?"
The esquire so addressed at once rode forward, but before he could speak
his master had discovered an answer for himself. He had fixed fierce
eyes upon Master Scarlett, and made a scornful gesture. "So 'tis you,
Geoffrey, daring death now for the sake of some country wench? Ay, but
you will end upon the gallows, for sure."
"I shall not ask you to pray at my bedside," retorted Scarlett,
bitterly.
The Princess suddenly whipped round. "Who are you, Sir Churl, to talk of
gallows and the like to us? Hast come from a hanging thyself? There is
one a foot in Nottingham, I mind me."
It was now the turn of the old knight to exclaim. "Princess, _you_?"
gasped he, in sheer amaze. He tumbled from his horse to the ground, and
with old-fashioned courtesy knelt before her. She put out her hand for
him to kiss.
"Rise, Master Montfichet, I pray you, 'tis not your place to kneel to
me," she said, with her little Court smile.
The other horsemen had dismounted and now stood apart from the trio. The
Princess was the first to speak, so soon as the old Squire had risen.
"Master Montfichet and Will Scarlett, pray let me make you known to each
other," she said, prettily. "This is Squire George of Gamewell, a good
friend and honest adviser to me, although I do not always listen to him
as I should," she laughed, easily. "_This_ is Master Will Scarlett, whom
I have known both in France and now again in England. He hath but now
saved me from a dreadful death."
She paused; then added quickly and a little nervously: "My life is his,
in short, Master Montfichet, and so--and so I have given it to him. We
are to be married, and live in the greenwood. Therefore, you are not to
speak slightingly of Master Scarlett in my presence."
Consternation, astonishment and gratification struggled together
mightily in the Squire's breast. "Geoffrey, you!" he said again. "But
this is beyond belief."
"Therefore believe it," spoke the Princess, lightly; "for _that_ will
show you to be no common man."
"Sir," said Geoffrey, kneeling before his father, "I pray you forgive
both my rash words just now and all my seeming ingratitude. I am very
fain to be friends again with you, and I do swear to be more dutiful in
the years to come. Will you take my hand?"
"Ay, freely as it is offered. God save us; but who am I to be stubborn
of will, in the face of these miracles?"
"Do the miracles work happiness for you, Master Montfichet?" enquired
the maid, archly.
"Ay, marry. But the King will never consent to this business, be sure of
it. _You_ marrying my son--a commoner!"
"Your son?" It was now the Princess's turn to be amazed. But soon the
matter was explained to her. "So, Will, you have begun by deceiving me;
a bad beginning."
"I was trying to tell you, dear heart, when we made this encounter. Was
I not saying that my father lived near by here? Did I not tell you that
he was a Norman----"
"There, there, do not fret your dear self. I will marry you, whether you
be Will Scarlett or Geoffrey of Montfichet. It is yourself I need, after
all."
"Take my steed and ride with us to Gamewell. There, at least, I must
keep thee, Princess, until the King hath given his sanction to this
marriage. _You_ to rule over Gamewell? In sooth I will be a joyful man
upon that day."
"And I," murmured Master Scarlett.
So they turned back towards Gamewell, and only when they were in sight
of it did Scarlett remember poor Little John. Then he stopped short,
reining in the horse which one of the knights had lent to him. The
Princess had accepted loan of the esquire Jacquelaine's palfrey.
Will soon had told them this errand which he had come so near to
forgetting altogether. "If this be the man they call John Little
Nailor," said the Princess, sorrowfully, "why, he is in perilous plight.
You have but just ridden through Nottingham, I take it, Master
Montfichet, and have some of its news?"
"They do not seem yet to know of your adventurings, Princess."
"No, surely; for what is a woman, missing or to hand, when there is red
murder abroad? This poor fellow, whom I do believe to be innocent, was
accused of theft by a rascally cook, and was pursued. 'Twas the night of
our return. They chased him from pillar to post, and presently caught
him close to the castle. He had two bags with him."
"'Tis Little John, then," cried Scarlett; "I saw him go out with the
sacks across his back."
"In one of them they found many things that other folk had strangely
lost," said the Princess, with a little grimace. "In the other there was
the dead, dishonored body of a good citizen foully done to death."
Her listeners stared in their amazement. "It is a Master Fitzwalter who
hath been so cruelly murdered," continued the Princess, her color coming
and going. "This Little John swears that the cook did kill his master;
and whilst he, Little John, was resting in Fitzwalter's house this
rascal fellow must have changed the sacks."
"Fitzwalter, the warden of the gates? I knew him well. Why, he left us
but three weeks since to travel to Nottingham. It seems that he had sent
a messenger to his girl there that she was to follow him, but either his
letter miscarried or the maid would not. So poor Fitzwalter, busy as he
was, must needs return to meet his death."
"Who is this cook?" asked Scarlett.
"An evil character, he hath altogether. Once he was of an outlaw robber
band, headed here in these very woods under one Will of Cloudesley."
"Tell me, is he called Roger de Burgh?" asked Will.
"That is his name," answered the Princess, surprised; "do you know aught
of him?"
"I know much evil of him," replied her lover; and then he told them how
this very Roger had planned to take his (Will's) life, and how Robin had
saved him.
The Squire nodded. "I remember," said he, slowly.
"Ay, Robin was always a good lad. This news of yours will stagger him,
for he is betrothed to Mistress Fitzwalter, daughter of him who hath so
dreadfully met his end."
"The two of them were arraigned, I must tell you," went on the Princess,
"and both were to be racked. But they did not put it too hardly upon
Master Roger, as I have reason to know, wherefore he was able to
maintain his innocence; whilst the other, in his bitter anguish, made
confession of a crime which he did never commit."
"And they are hanging him whilst I stand idly here," cried Scarlett,
turning to horse. "I must leave you, sweet; forgive me. Here is a man's
life in the balance."
"What would you, Will?" she asked, fearfully. "The hanging is fixed for
the Thursday in next week."
"Before then he shall be free," said Will Scarlett, firmly. "Farewell,
dear heart. Wait for me here at Gamewell; my father will be good host to
you, I know."
"The maid Fitzwalter was lodging with us when I was called to London,"
the Squire began.
"She is now in Nottingham, sir. It is a story which I will tell you
later. Now give me farewell, and your blessing."
"God's blessing be in you, Geoffrey, my son," said the Squire. It was
the first time for many years that he had called Geoffrey by that name.
"And take all my heart with you, Will." The voice of this little
Princess was husky; and a sob sounded in her throat. "Be cautious, and
return soon to me."
She watched his swift retreating figure as he sped towards Nottingham,
there to argue it with Master Carfax.