Suddenly men turned upon him and shouldered him off. "Let me come, varlets," he cried. "I will have thee whipped and branded. I am Watkin the sheriff's bailiff"
"Let him go, lads," rang out a clear voice. It was Robin who thus commanded his men who had rallied about him.
"I arrest thee, Robin Hood, outlaw! in the name of the king!" shouted Warkin, though he was still some paces away.
"Enough of thy bellowing, thou town bull!" said Little John, who was beside Watkin, and picking up the sheriff's man, the giant ran with him to the outskirts of the crowd and dumped him heavily on the ground, where he lay dazed for a few moments.
A bugle note rang clear and shrill. It was the call of the greenwood men, and from all parts of the wide grounds the outlaws gathered. Another horn sounded, and the sheriff's men formed in ranks, with bows strung. Men and women in the crowd between the two parties fled this way and that shrieking with fear, and at a word from the sheriff his men shot a flight of arrows against the men of the greenwood. Next moment, however, the great clothyard arrows of the outlaws snored back in reply so thick and strong, that the sheriff's men, or such as could run, darted this way and that into shelter.
Slowly and in good order the outlaws retreated, sending their arrows into the sheriff's men, who now, under the furious leadership of Watkin, were following them closely from cover to cover. Once they saw a man ride swiftly away from where the sheriff stood, and enter the town.
"That means, lads, that they go to beg help from the castle," said Little John. "Once we reach the greenwood, however, little avail will that help be."
The forest, however, was still nearly a mile away, and the outlaws would not run. From time to time they turned and shot their arrows at their pursuers, while keeping a good distance from them and taking care that none got round their flanks.
Suddenly with a groan Little John fell, an arrow sticking from his knee.
"I can go no further, lads, I fear," he cried. Robin came up to him and examined the wound, while the sheriff's men, seeing the outlaws check, came on more swiftly.
"Master," said Little John, "for the love thou bearest me, let not the sheriff and his men find and take me alive. Take out thy brown sword instead, and smite my head off, I beseech thee."
"Nay, by the sweet Virgin!" cried Robin, and his eyes were pitiful, "I would not have thee slain for all the gold in England. We will take thee with us."
"Ay, that we will," said Much; "never shall I and thee part company, thou old rascal," he went on. Saying this, he lifted John upon his broad back, and the outlaws went on again. Sometimes Much put John down for a moment, and notching an arrow to his string, took a shot at the sheriff's men.
Then they saw a large company of archers on horseback issue from the town gate, and Robin's face went stern and grim at the sight. He could not hope to win the shelter of the forest before this troop came upon him, and fight as they would, they must in the end be over-whelmed. Robin looked around for some means of escape, but saw none. Already the mounted men were gaining upon them, and the sheriff's men were holding to the stirrup leathers of their allies and leaping and running beside them over the down. Three knights were at the head of the troop, and the sheriff rode in front of all.
Rapidly the outlaws retreated, and at Robin's command they fled along a hollow or combe in the downs which would lead them to a knoll of trees, where he thought they could make a desperate stand. Suddenly he remembered with some bitterness that they were near the castle of Sir Richard at Lee. He knew that Sir Richard loved him, and would help him if he begged aid of him, but seeing that by helping an outlaw Sir Richard would lose lands and life, Robin knew that he would have to make his last fight alone, although within an arrow flight of his friend's castle.
They gained the knoll of trees, and Robin arranged his men and gave them short sharp orders. Behind them rose the castle of Sir Richard, but Robin looked not that way, all his attention being given to their enemies who were now rapidly coming up. Suddenly a small figure ran up the knoll and came to Robin. It was Kef the Trow.
"Master," he said breathlessly, "a troop hath been sent round by the Levin Oak to take thee in the rear. Look, where they ride!"
Robin looked, and grim despair entered his heart. He saw that it was impossible to make a stand. At that moment a knight in armor came riding furiously from the direction of the castle of Sir Richard at Lee. It was Sir Richard himself.
"Robin! Robin!" he cried. "Thou canst not hope to save thyself. Withdraw to my castle. Come at once, man, or all is lost."
"But thou losest life and land if thou dost shelter me!" cried Robin.
"So be it!" said the knight. "I lose them any way, for if ye stay here, I stay with thee, Robin, and end with thee."
"Come then," replied the outlaw. "Friend indeed as thou art, I will accept thy aid and requite thee to the full for thy nobility."
Not a moment too soon did the outlaws reach the drawbridge. In good order they retreated, and barely did they avoid being caught in the rear by the horsemen who had ridden to cut them off, but a strong flight of arrows dealt destruction among them on the very verge of the ditch, and when they had recovered, they saw Robin was the last to step across the drawbridge, which then rattled and groaned its swift way up, putting the yawning water of the ditch between them and their prey. For a moment the troop, headed by Watkin, the sheriff's officer, stood shouting threats at the walls, until a flight of bolts among them caused them quickly to draw off, taking their dead and wounded with them. They rode to join the main body of the sheriff's forces, who now came up and halted at a respectful distance from the castle walls, on whose battlements steel caps now gleamed amid the bonnets of the outlaws.
The sheriff sent a herald under a flag of truce, charging Sir Richard with harboring and aiding an outlaw against the king's rights and laws, to which Sir Richard made a valiant answer, in legal form, saying that he was willing "to maintain the deeds which he had done upon all the lands which he held from the king, as he was a true knight." Thereupon the sheriff went his way, since he had no authority to besiege Sir Richard, who would have to be judged by the king or his chancellor.
"Sir Richard," said Robin, when the knight came from the wall after giving his reply to the sheriff, "this is a brave deed thou hast done, and here I swear that whatever befall me, I do avow that I and my men shall aid thee to the last, and whatsoever help thou needest at any time, I will eagerly give it thee."
"Robin," said Sir Richard, "I love no man in the world more than I do thee, for a just man and a brave, and rather than see thee fall into the hands of the sheriff I would lose all. But I have ill news for thee. Walter, the steward of Sir Richard FitzWalter, sent a message to me this morning, saying that his master is dead, and that fair Marian is in danger of being seized by the strongest lord among her neighbors, so that she may be wedded to one of them and her lands meanwhile held and enjoyed by them."
"Now, by the black rood!" said Robin, "the time hath come when I said I would take sweet Marian into my keeping. Sir Richard, I will instantly set forth to Malaset and bring fair Marian back to the greenwood. Father Tuck will wed us, and she shall live in peace with me and my merry men."
Quickly, therefore, Robin selected twenty of his best men, and as soon as harness, arms, and horses had been obtained for them all from their secret stores in the forest eaves, the band set off toward the western marches, where, in the fair valleys of Lancashire, the castle of Malaset stood in the midst of its broad lands.
On the evening of the second day they approached the castle and found it shut up, dark and silent. A clear call on a bugle brought a man to the guardroom over the gate. This was Walter the steward, and quickly, with the aid of the menservants, the bridge was lowered, the portcullis raised, and Robin and his men were welcomed by the brave steward into the great hall.
"Where is the lady Marian, Walter?" asked Robin. "Alas, Master Robin, I know not!" replied Walter, wringing his hands and the tears starting from his eyes.
"If thou dost not know, then I am indeed forlorn, for I had thought she had fled to thee. She slept here last night, but this morning no sign could be found of her anywhere about the castle!"
"This is hard to hear," said Robin, and his face was full of grief. "Hath any robber lord or thieving kinsman seized her, think you?"
"Several have been here since when, three days ago, my lord was laid in his tomb in the church," replied Walter, "but ever with her wit and ready tongue my lady spoke them fair and sent them all away, each satisfied that they were the kinsmen to whom she would come when her grief was past. Yesterday there came the sacrist of St. Mary's Abbey, and did bring with him the order of the king's chancellor, William de Longchamp himself, the Lord Bishop of Ely, commanding her to hold herself and all she possessed as the ward of the king, and telling her that tomorrow would come Sir Scrivel of Catsty, to be the king's steward and to guard her from ill."
"Scrivel of Catsty!" cried Robin angrily, "Scrivel the catspaw rather, for he's naught but a reiving mountain cat, close kin to Isenbart de Belame! I see it all! The new abbot of St. Mary's hath got his uncle the chancellor to do this, and under cover of being but the steward of the king's rights, he will let that evil crew of Wrangby take possession. But, by the black rood, I must find what hath befallen Marian, and that speedily!"
Next day and for several days thereafter Robin and his men scoured the marches of Lancashire for many miles, asking of the poor folk, the villeins, beggars and wandering people of the road, whether they had seen a tall maid, brown of hair, straight and queenly of figure, pass either alone, or in the power of a band of knights or men-at-arms. But all was in vain. No one had seen such a maid, and at the end of a week Robin was in despair.
Meanwhile word was sent to him by Walter that Scrivel of Catsty with a hundred men had taken possession of the castle, and was furious to learn that the lady Marian had disappeared. He also was sending everywhere to learn where she had fled. So earnest did he seem in this that Walter thought that he and the Wrangby lords had not had any hand in kidnapping Marian, and that either she must have fled herself or been taken by some party of her kinsmen.
Full of sorrow, Robin at length turned his horse's head toward Barnisdale, and he and his band rode with heavy hearts into their camp by the Stane Lea one morning when the sun shone warmly, when the birds sang in the boughs and all seemed bright and fair. Hardly had Robin alighted, when there came the beat of horses' feet rapidly approaching from the south, and through the trees they saw the figure of a lady riding swiftly toward them, followed by another. Robin quickly rose, and for the moment joy ran through his heart to think that this was Mariani But next instant he recognized the lady as the wife of Sir Richard at Lee.
When she rode up to Robin, he knelt courteously on his knee for a moment. She was greatly agitated and was breathless.
"God Save you, Robin Hood," she said, "and all thy company. I crave a boon of thee."
"It shall be granted, lady," replied Robin, "for thine own and thy dear lord's sake."
"It is for his behalf I crave it. He hath been seized by the sheriff _ he was hawking but an hour agone by the stream which runs by a hunting-bower of his at Woodserr, when the sheriff and his men rushed from the wood and seized him. They have tied him on a horse and he is now on his way to Nottingham, and if ye go not quickly, I doubt not he will soon be slain or in foul prison."
"Now by the Virgin," said Robin, and he was wondrous wroth, "the sheriff shall pay for this. Lady," he said, "wait here with thy woman until we return. If we have not Sir Richard with us, I shall not return alive."
Then he sounded his horn with curious notes which resounded far and wide through the forest, so that scouts and watchers a mile off heard the clear call through the trees. Quickly they ran to the Stane Lea, and when all had assembled, there were seven score men in all. Standing with bows in hand they waited for their master to speak. He stood by the lady where she sat on her palfrey, and they could see by his flashing eyes that he was greatly moved.
"Lads," he cried, "those that were with me when we shot at the butts in Nottingham, know how courteously this lady's brave lord befriended us, and saved us from death. Now he hath himself been seized by the sheriff, who, learning that I was far from Barnisdale, hath dared to venture into our forest roads and hath seized Sir Richard at Woodserr, where the knight hath a hunting-seat. Now, lads, I go to rescue the knight and to fight the sheriff. Who comes with me?"
Every outlaw of all that throng held up his bow in sign that he would volunteer, and a great shout went up. Robin smiled proudly at their eagerness.
"I thank thee, but you cannot all go, lads," he cried. "As the sheriff hath a stout force with him, eighty of you shall go with me. The others must stay to guard the camp and the knight's lady."
Soon all was ready, and silently the band, with Robin at their head, sank into the forest, and quickly yet stealthily made their way to the southeast, toward the road which the sheriff must take on his way back to Nottingham. The sheriff's spies had learned that Robin had disappeared from Barnisdale, and that Little John, still unable to move because of the wound in his knee, had been left in command. Therefore, hearing that Sir Richard had left his castle at Linden Lea and had gone to a hunting-lodge on' the outskirts of Barnisdale, the sheriff had thought this would be a good opportunity of capturing the knight, and thus gain the commendation of the Bishop of Ely, the king's chancellor, who had been furious when he had heard how the knight had rescued Robin and defied the law.
Now that the sheriff had captured the knight, he was very anxious to leave the dangerous neighborhood, for he feared that Robin might return at any time. He therefore pushed his men to do their utmost, and while he himself rode beside Sir Richard, who was bound securely on a horse, the company of fifty men-at-arms had to walk, and in the hot noonday sun of the summer they moiled and sweated woefully at the pace set by the sheriff.
When they reached the town of Worksop, which lay upon their route, the sheriff would only stay long enough before the chief inn to allow each man to have a stoup from a black jack, and would allow no one to rest beneath the wide chestnut-tree that threw its dark and pleasant shade in the scorching road. Then onward they had to go, their own feet kicking up the dust which in less than a mile caked their throats again.
At length they got among the deep woods and hills of Clumber Forest, and the sheriff felt more at ease in his mind, though he did not abate the pace at which he went.
Under the shade of the great oaks and chestnuts, however, the men felt less exhausted and pushed on with a will.
There was a long steep hill upon their road called Hagger Scar, and up this they were toiling manfully, when suddenly a stern voice rang out.
"Halt!" it cried, and at the same moment as the men-at-arms looked about them, they saw that on each side of the forest way stood archers with bent bows, the gleaming arrows pointing at each of their breasts. The whole company stood still, and men angrily murmured beneath their breath.
Out of the wood some ten paces from the sheriff stepped Robin, his bow strung and a fierce look on his face.
"So, sheriff," he cried; "you learned that I was away, and therefore stole up to seize my friend. By the Virgin, but thou hadst better have stayed within thy town walls. I tell thee I will spare thee no more. Not since seven years have I had to go so fast on foot as I have had to do this morn, and it bodes no good to thee. Say thy last prayer, for thy end hath come."
Now that he knew that his last hour had really come the sheriff was brave.
"Thou lawless wolf's-head!" he cried, "the chancellor will harry every thicket in these woods to catch thee for this deed!"
He spoke no more. Robin's arrow pierced the chainmail coat he wore, and he swayed and fell from the saddle to the ground, dead. Then Robin went to the knight and cut his bonds and helped him from the horse.
"Now," said he to the sheriff's men, "throw down thy weapons!"
When they had done this he told them to march fo
rward, take up the body of their master and proceed on their way. They did as he commanded them, and soon the fifty men-at-arms, weaponless and sore at heart for having been so completely conquered by the bold outlaw, disappeared over the crest of the hill.
Turning to the knight, Robin said: "Sir Richard, welcome to the greenwood! thou must stay with me and my fellows now, and learn to go on foot through mire, moss and fen. Sorry I am that a knight should have to leave his castle to his enemies without a blow and to take to the woods, but needs must when naught else can be done!"
"I thank thee, Robin, from my heart," said the knight, "for taking me thus from prison and death. As for living with thee and thy fellows in the greenwood, I wish no better life, since I could not live with braver men."
Thereupon they set off through the leafy wilderness, and before evening had rejoined the lady of the knight, and great was her joy and gratitude to Robin and his men for having restored her husband to her. A feast was prepared, and Sir Richard at Lee and his dame were entertained right royally, and they said that though they had lost castle and lands, they had never been happier than on this the first night of their lives as outlaws in the greenwood.
Henry Gilbert - Robin Hood Page 24
