Young Robin's father, the Sheriff, suffered very sadly from the
loss of his son and his goods, and Robin's aunt came to Nottingham
and wept bitterly over the loss of the little boy she loved dearly.
For David, the old servant in whose charge Robin had been placed
when he was going home, had done what too many weak people do,
tried to hide one fault by committing another.
Robin was given into his charge to protect and take safely home to
his father, and when the attack was made by the outlaw's men,
instead of doing anything to protect the little fellow and save him
from being injured by Robin Hood's people, he thought only of
himself. He threw his charge into the first bushes he came to, and
galloped away, hardly stopping till he reached Nottingham town.
There the first question the Sheriff asked was, not what had become
of the pack mules and the consignment of cloth, but where was
Robin, and the false servant said that he had fought hard to save
him in the fight, but fought in vain, and that the poor boy was
dead.
And then months passed and a year had gone by, and people looked
solemn and said that it seemed as if the Sheriff would never hold
up his head again. But they thought that he should have gathered
together a number of fighting men and gone and punished Robin Hood
and his outlaws for carrying off that valuable set of loads of
cloth.
But Robin's father cared nothing for the cloth or the mules; he
could only think of the bright happy little fellow whom he loved so
well, and whom he wept for in secret at night when there was no one
near to see.
Robin's aunt when she came and tried to comfort him used to shake
her head and wipe her eyes. She said little, only thought a great
deal, and she came over again and again to try and comfort her dead
sister's husband; but it made no difference, for the Sheriff was a
sadly altered man.
Then all at once there was a change, and it was at a time when
Robin's aunt was over to Nottingham.
For one day a man came to the Sheriff's house and wanted him. But
the Sheriff would not see him, for he took no interest in anything
now, and told his servant that the man must send word what his
business was.
The servant went out, and came back directly.
"He says, sir, that he was taken prisoner by Robin Hood's men a
week ago, and that he has just come from the camp under the
greenwood tree, and has brought you news, master."
The Sheriff started up, trembling, and told his servant to bring
the strange man in.
It was no beaten and wounded ruffian, but a hale and hearty fellow,
who looked bright and happy, and before he could speak and tell his
news the Sheriff began to question him.
"You have come from the outlaws' camp?" he said with his voice
trembling.
"Yes, Master Sheriff."
"They took you prisoner, and beat and robbed you?"
"Oh! no, Master Sheriff; they took me before Robin Hood, and he
asked me what I was doing there, and whether I was not afraid to
cross his forest, and I up and told him plainly that I wasn't.
Then he said how was that when I must have heard what a terrible
robber he was."
"Yes, yes," cried the Sheriff, "and what did you say."
"I said that I had lived about these parts all my life and I never
heard that he did a poor man any harm. Then he laughed, and all his
people laughed too, and he said I was a merry fellow. 'Give him
plenty to eat and drink,' he said, 'for two or three days, and then
send him on his way.' Yes, Master Sheriff, that he did, and a fine
jolly time I had. Why, I almost felt as if I should like to stay
altogether."
And all this time the Sheriff was watching the man very keenly, and
suddenly he caught him by the arm.
[Illustration: The Sheriff was watching the man very keenly, and
suddenly caught him by the arm.]
"Speak out," he said; "you did not come to tell me only that. What
is it you are keeping back? Why don't you speak?"
"Because, master," said the man softly, "I was afraid you couldn't
bear it, for I was a father once and my son died, and though you
never knew me, I knew you, and was sorry when the news came that
your little boy was killed. Can you bear to hear good news as well
as bad?"
The Sheriff was silent for a few minutes, during which he closed
his eyes and his lips moved, and he looked so strange that Robin's
aunt crossed the room to where he sat, and took hold of his hand,
as she whispered loving words.
"Yes, yes," he said softly, "I can bear it now. Speak, pray speak,
and tell me all."
"But you will not be angry with me if I am wrong, Master Sheriff?"
"No, no," said Robin's father; "speak out at once."
"Well, Master Sheriff, no one would tell me when I asked questions,
but there's a little fellow there, dressed all in Lincoln green,
like one of Robin Hood's fighting men, with his sword and bugle,
and bow and arrows, and somehow I began to think, and then I began
to ask, whether he was Robin Hood's son; but those I asked only
shook their heads.
"That made me think all the more, and one day I managed to follow
him but among the trees to where I found him feeding one of the
wild deer, which followed him about like a dog."
"I waited a bit, and then stepped out to him, and what do you think
he did? He strung his bow, fitted an arrow to it before I knew
where I was, and drew it to the head as if he was going to shoot
me. 'Do you know where Nottingham is?' I said, and he lowered his
bow. 'Yes,' he said, 'of course. Do you know my father?' 'Do I
know the Sheriff?' I said; 'of course.' 'Are you going there
soon?' he cried, and I nodded. 'Then you go to my father,' he
cried, 'and tell him to tell aunt that I'm quite well, and that
some day I'm coming home."
The man stopped, for just then the Sheriff closed his eyes again
and said something very softly, which Robin's aunt heard, and she
sank upon her knees and covered her face with her hands.
Then the Sheriff sprang to his feet, looking quite a different man.
"Here," he said to the bringer of the news, and he gave him some
gold pieces. "Could you find your way back to the outlaws' camp in
the forest?"
"Oh! yes, Master Sheriff, that I could, though they did bind a
cloth over my face when they brought me away."
"And you could lead me and a strong body of fighting men right to
the outlaws' camp?"
"I could, Master Sheriff," said the man, beginning slowly to lay
the gold pieces back one by one upon the table; "but I can't do
evil for good."
"What?" cried the Sheriff angrily. "They are robbers and outlaws,
and every subject of the King has a right to slay them."
"May be, Master Sheriff," said the man drily; "but I'm not going to
fly at the throat of one who did nothing but good to me. They tell
me that Robin Hood's a noble earl who offended the King, and had to
fly for his life. What I say is, he's a noble kind-hearted
gentleman, and if it was my boy he had there, looking as happy as
the day is long, I'd go to him without any fighting men."
"How, then?" cried the Sheriff.
"Just like a father should, master, and ask him for my boy like a
man."
"That will do," said the Sheriff. "You can go."
The man turned to leave the room, when the Sheriff said sharply:
"Stop! You are leaving the gold pieces I gave you."
"Yes, I can't take pay to lead anyone to fight against Robin Hood
and his men."
"Those pieces were for the news you brought me," said the Sheriff.
"Yes, take them, for you have behaved like an honest man."
But the Sheriff did not take the man's advice, neither did he
listen to the appeal of young Robin's aunt. For, as Sheriff of
Nottingham, he said to himself that it was his duty to destroy or
scatter the band of outlaws who had lived in Sherwood Forest for so
long a time.
So he gathered a strong body of crossbow-men, and others with
spears and swords, besides asking for the help of two gallant
knights who came with their esquires mounted and in armour with
their men.
Somehow Robin Hood knew what was being prepared, and about a week
after, when the Sheriff and his great following of about three
hundred men were struggling to make their way through the forest,
they heard the sound of a horn, and all at once the thick woodland
seemed to be alive with archers, who used their bows in such a way
that first one, then a dozen, then by fifties, the Sheriff's men
began to flee, and in less than an hour they were all crawling back
to Nottingham, badly beaten, not a man among them being ready to
turn and fight.
In another month the Sheriff advanced again with a stronger force,
but they were driven back more easily than the first, and the
Sheriff was in despair.
But a couple of days later he had the man to whom he had given the
gold pieces found, and sent him to the outlaws' camp with a letter
written upon parchment, in which he ordered Robin Hood, in the
King's name, to give up the little prisoner he held there contrary
to the law and against his own will.
It was many weary anxious days before the messenger came back, but
without the little prisoner.
"What did he say?" asked the Sheriff.
"He said, master, that if you wanted the boy you must go and fetch
him."
It was the very next day that the Sheriff went into the room where
young Robin's aunt was seated, looking very unhappy, and she jumped
up from her chair wonderingly on seeing that her brother-in-law was
dressed as if for a journey, wearing no sword or dagger, only
carrying a long stout walking staff.
"Where are you going, dear?" she said.
"Where I ought to have gone at first," he said humbly; "into the
forest to fetch my boy."
"But you could never find your way," she said, sobbing. "Besides,
you are the Sheriff, and these men will seize and kill you."
"I have someone to show me the way," said the Sheriff gently; "and
somehow, though I have persecuted and fought against the people
sorely, I feel no fear, for Robin Hood is not the man to slay a
broken-hearted father who comes in search of his long-lost boy."