Robin started out early in the day towards the city. This time nothing
should stay him from entering it--and finding Marian. The demoiselle
Marie's plan would surely have succeeded on this day, for Robin was
careless of all things but the hope of seeing his dear.
Sir Guy of Gisborne was there, however, as Robin's good angel, as we are
to see, although Sir Guy had, in truth, no very merciful feelings
towards the outlaw.
Robin perceived upon the highroad a very strange figure coming towards
him. It seemed to be a three-legged monster at first sight, but on
coming nearer one might see that 'twas really a poorly clad man, who for
a freak had covered up his rags with a capul-hide, nothing more nor less
than the sun-dried skin of a horse, complete with head and tail and
mane.
The skin of the horse's head made a helmet for the man; and the tail
gave him the three-legged appearance.
"Good morrow, gossip," said Robin, cheerily; "by my bow and by my
arrows, I could believe you to be a good archer--you have the shape of
one."
The man took no offence at this greeting, but told Robin that he had
lost his way and was anxious to find it again.
"By my faith, I could have believed that you had lost your wits,"
thought Robin, laughing quietly to himself. "What is your business,
friend?" he asked, aloud; "you are dressed in strange clothes and yet
seem by your speech to be of gentle blood."
"And who are you, forester, to ask me who I am?"
"I am one of the King's rangers," replied Robin; "and 'tis my part to
look after the King's deer and save them from the wicked arrows of Robin
Hood."
"Do you know Robin Hood?" asked the man, shrewdly eyeing him.
"That do I; and last night I heard that he would be coming alone in a
certain part of this wood to meet a maid."
"Is that so indeed?" cried the man, eagerly.
"'Tis very truth," answered Robin. "And I, knowing this, am going to
take him, and carry off both the girl and the reward upon his head."
"Tell me, friend, is this girl a little creature, royal looking and very
beautiful?"
"Marry, she appeared to me a very Princess," cried Robin, with
enthusiasm.
"We are well met," remarked the yeoman, presently, and speaking as if
come to a decision. "Now I will tell you, friend, that I am in search of
Robin Hood myself, and will help you to take him. I am Sir Guy of
Gisborne, and can make your fortune for you."
"And I am Robin Hood, so, prithee, make it quickly for me!" cried Robin,
imprudently.
Sir Guy was not taken so much aback as Robin had hoped. Quickly he drew
his sword from underneath the capul-hide, and he smote at Robin full and
foul.
Robin parried the thrust with his own true blade, and soon they were at
a fierce contest. They fought by the wayside for a long while in a
deadly anger, only the sharp clashing of their blades breaking the
silence.
Then Robin stumbled over the projecting root of a tree; and Sir Guy, who
was quick and heavy with his weapon, wounded Robin in his side.
The outlaw recovered himself adroitly; and, full of sudden rage, stabbed
at the knight under and across his guard. The capul-hide hindered Sir
Guy in his attempt at a parry--the horse head fell across his eyes.
Next instant Sir Guy of Gisborne went staggering backward with a deep
groan, Robin's sword through his throat.
"You did bring this upon yourself," muttered Robin, eyeing the body of
the knight in vain regret. "Yet you did fall bravely, and in fair fight.
You shall be buried honorably."
He dragged the body into the bushes; and, having taken off the horse
hide, slipped it upon himself. He then perceived that, hanging from the
dead man's belt, there was a little silver whistle. "What may this be?"
thought Robin.
Sir Guy, clothed in old and ragged dress, looked to be a plain yeoman,
slain in defence of his life, or mayhap a forester. Pulling the hide
well over himself Robin put the little whistle to his lips and blew it
shrilly.
Instantly, far off to the right of him, sounded an answering note, and
again from behind him there was reply. In about four or five minutes
twenty of the Sheriff's best archers came running through the wood to
Robin's side.
"Didst signal for us, lording?" asked the leader of them, approaching
Robin.
"Ay, see him! I have encountered and slain one of your robber fellows
for ye," answered Robin, simulating Sir Guy's voice and manner. "I would
have you take up his body upon your shoulders and bear him along this
little path, wherefrom he sprang upon me."
The archers obeyed him immediately, "Do you follow us, lording?" they
asked.
"I will lead ye," cried Robin, waving his red sword truculently, "Follow
me speedily."
Thus he led them after him through the secret paths into Barnesdale, and
there blew his horn so suddenly that Stuteley and his fellows were upon
the Sheriff's men ere they might drop Sir Guy's dead body to the earth.
Robin bade his men disarm the archers, and tie such of them as would not
prove amenable.
Thus the Sheriff was robbed of his best archers; for these fellows,
finding the greenwood men to be of such friendly mind, soon joined in
with them.
"This is well done, in sooth," said Robin, gently, to himself. "A good
day's work; and Monceux will have cause to regret his share in it. Yet
am I no nearer Nottingham after all, tho' I have twice sworn that naught
should stay me. Stuteley," added he, aloud, calling his squire to his
side, "see you that this dead knight be buried with all respect; he
fought me well and fairly."
"It shall be done, master," answered Will Stuteley; "you may be easy
about it. But I would have you listen to the talk of these archers--they
have grave news of our comrade Little John. It seems that the Sheriff
hath seized him for the killing of thy maid's father, and will
presently have him dreadfully hanged and burned."
Robin uttered an exclamation of horror. Soon the terrible story was told
him, and his brain reeled under the shock of it. All that night he paced
the woods until the dawn, then fell incontinently into a deep and heavy
slumber.
"Disturb him not nor let him take action until I do return," said the
comfortable Friar Tuck, in business-like manner. "I know how his
distemper will play upon him, and how he will bring us all to grief if
he attempts the city again. Now I may go in and out as I will, being a
curtal friar and not now remembered in these parts. I will visit the
Sheriff and ask for leave to confess Master Little John. Then I will
come back to you with the best news I may."
* * * * *
Geoffrey of Montfichet had ridden into Nottingham on the day before Sir
Guy had left it. Carfax had known where the Princess might be found all
the while his master, with the Bishop, was busy persuading the Knight of
Gisborne that the maid was with Robin. One might be sure, however, that
neither Monceux nor Carfax gave out any hint of this knowledge, for to
do that would have stayed Sir Guy in his praiseworthy attempt upon the
bold outlaw.
Geoffrey--Master Scarlett--had found difficult work before him, but he
intended to save Little John. He was convinced that the cook had slain
Fitzwalter, most likely at the command of some other person interested
in the death.
Who might this be? Who had profited by the death of so unassuming a man
as the late city warden?
Carfax treated Scarlett with scant ceremony. The lean-faced fellow
devoured the item that the Princess of Aragon was safe at Gamewell, but
gave nothing in return. Scarlett had been left to cool his heels in the
great hall of Nottingham Castle for near an hour afterward, whilst
Simeon Carfax was closeted with the Sheriff.
They were having a tidying of the rooms in honor of the Bishop's visit.
Whilst Scarlett impatiently waited the good pleasure of Master Carfax
the maids were busy carrying many things to and fro; fresh rushes to
strew my lord's rooms, candles and tapers, silks and cloths, and brown
ewers of water. All the rubbish and sweepings of the floors were borne
out in great baskets to the courtyard.
One of the maids, a plump, roguish, lazy wench, would only carry her
basket so far as the hearth of the hall. A fire was there, why not use
it? Also she could ogle and throw sidelong looks at Master Scarlett,
who, for his beard and thirty-five grave years, was none so bad a man.
This girl was throwing into the open hearth a lot of ends of silk and
combings from her mistress's room. She tossed the rubbish on the fire,
at the same time eyeing Master Scarlett. Then, finding that he would not
notice her, she poutingly returned with her basket upon a fresh journey.
Scarlett came over to the fire to pick up some of the burning scraps.
They were drifting over the hearth into the room dangerously, thanks to
the maid's carelessness.
He found in his hand a half-burned piece of parchment, which still
fizzled and crackled in quaint malicious fashion.
Upon the parchment was an awkward writing, and some of the words showed
up very black under the heat. Half idly, Scarlett tried to make sense of
them:
"This ... dear child Marian, ... her affectionate father ... Court of
... in London town."
So far did Master Scarlett read before suddenly the beginnings of the
truth flashed upon him. This was the very letter which he had borne to
Marian.
How had it come into the castle? By what strange magic? Could Marian
have carried it here herself?
He remembered that she had given it to Robin, and that he had put it
into his bosom.
"Mistress, you seem indeed to be very busy this day," said Master
Scarlett, affably, to the girl next time she appeared. "Do you prepare
me a chamber, for it seems that I am to wait here for a week at least."
"I am tidying my mistress's room, and have had hard work I promise you,"
replied the girl, impudently. "Mayhap you will give me a help whilst you
wait, Sir Taciturn? This is the fifth basket of rubbish I have borne
from the demoiselle Marie's little cupboard."
"I will readily help you if you will help me," said Scarlett,
pleasantly. "Canst tell me who wrote this little paper? The writing
seemeth familiar to mine eyes."
"'Tis a piece of my lady's jesting," said the girl, after a glance at
the parchment. "'Twas written in imitation of Master Fitzwalter's hand
after we had searched his house last year. Ah, poor man, who would have
then imagined so hard a fate for him?" She sighed prodigiously, and
rolled her eyes.
"Tell me the story of this murder, mistress, I pray you."
She was not loth to fall a-chattering, and she told Scarlett all she
knew of it. From the rambling history he discovered another strange
fact, that Roger de Burgh had been cook in the Sheriff's household
before he had gone to the Fitzwalter house. Slowly he began to see that
the letter he had so blithely put into Marian's hand was a forgery, done
by the clever fingers of the demoiselle Marie.
"So," thought he, swiftly, "Mistress Fitzwalter was persuaded to return
to this place in order that Robin Hood might visit her secretly. The
house was watched by a spy from the Sheriff's own kitchen. Soon as Robin
came, this spy was to give warning; or, if matters pressed, kill him.
But after many months of waiting, _Fitzwalter_ came instead."
His quick mind, used to the intrigues and plots of a capricious Court,
had unravelled the mystery. Yet how could he act upon this knowledge in
the midst of the enemy's camp? If the Sheriff could stoop already to
such foul business as this, to what further lengths would he not go?
Dismissing himself through the girl, Scarlett strode out of the castle.
The air seemed fresher and more wholesome without. He enquired and found
his way to the house of grief, and there asked audience with its little
heart-broken mistress.
* * * * *
Whilst Scarlett was plotting and inventing a hundred schemes to save
Little John, a poor wandering priest appeared one evening before the
gates of Nottingham Castle. Most humbly he begged a little bread and a
drink of water; and, having received these, he blessed the place and all
within it.
"You should not bless _all_ within this castle, Sir Priest," the
Sheriff told him. Monceux had pompously administered to the man's simple
wants with his own hands. "There is a villain in our cells who hath done
wicked murder."
The ragged friar asked who that might be; and when he had heard, said
that at the least he would confess this poor misguided fellow and so
deliver his soul from everlasting punishment.
The Sheriff was rather doubtful, but seeing that the priest had no
weapon upon him, he gave a sign that he should be admitted to Little
John's cell.
There the friar found the big outlaw very dejected. "Give you good
cheer, brother," said the friar, gently; "I have come to pray with you."
"What assistance can your prayers be to me?" asked Little John, sharply;
"I am to be hanged to-morrow morn, and all your prayers will scarce
alter that."
"Anger is a great sin," replied the priest.
"I have no sins against God," said Little John; "I have always
endeavored to live easily and justly." Then the friar came up close to
him, and whispered something in his ear. The outlaw's expression altered
at once. "By the Sheriff's rope," muttered he, quite in his old manner,
"but I swear that if thou canst get me a weapon----"
"Here is a little dagger," said Friar Tuck, pulling it out from under
his gown. "'Tis small, but to-morrow it may be of use. I can do no more
now; but be ready for us to-morrow, when the last moments are come.
Robin Hood will not easily let you die, be sure of it."
The friar, after he had left the prison, ran all the way to Barnesdale,
under the stars.