Table of Contents

- PART ONE.

- Robin Hood in His Castle

- The Sheriff of Nottingham Arrives to Arrest Robin Hood

- Robin Hood Defies the Sheriff

- The Siege

- Robin Hood Takes to the Forest

- The Attack on Robin Hood's Castle

- PART TWO.

- Fitzurse, the Norman Baron.

- Allan-a-Dale Speaks His Mind, But Is Powerless.

- Allan-a-Dale's First Meeting with Robin Hood's Band.

- How Allan-a-Dale Joined Robin Hood's Band

- Robin Hood to the Rescue

- At the Church

- PART 3

- Lanfrey Gaveston forms a Plot for the Capture of Robin Hood

- Robin Hood Decides to go to the Tournament

- The Mysterious Archer

- Simon Lancaster's Story

- Robin Hood as the Shabby Soldier

- The Capture of Robin Hood

- Robin Hood is Captured

- How the Band Received the News of their Leader's Capture

- PART FOUR

- Robin is Liberated

- Robin Hood's Triumphant Return to His Camp

- The Sheriff of Nottingham Goes to King Richard

- A Stranger in Sherwood Forest

- A Camp Scene in Sherwood

- Conclusion

William Murray Graydon

Robin Hood and Maid Marian

The Pluck Library

(1914)

ROBIN HOOD AND MAID MARIAN.

The opening Instalment of a SPLENDID SERIAL STORY founded on the Magnificent Thanhouser Film. Now showing all over the United Kingdom.

THE CAST

ROBIN HOOD, the Chief of the Rovers

HARDFAST, a Saxon Baron

MAID MARIAN, the Daughter of a Minstrel

HELEN, his Daughter Hunchback

FRIAR TUCK

FITZURSE, a Norman Baron

ALLAN-A-DALE

THE SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM

KING RICHARD THE LION-HEARTED

PART ONE.

Robin Hood in His Castle

The loud, clear blast of a horn, blown with no mean strength of lungs, startled the nesting birds in Sherwood Forest and made the welkin ring. Silence fell for a second or two, and then there came to the ears of him who had blown, from a distance, an answering signal that was fainter and more silvery-toned than his own.

Again, and yet again, the sounds floated on the summer air. They attracted the attention of Lanfrey Gaveston, the Sheriff of Nottingham, who was abroad that morning on the King's business. And as he stood listening, by a tree to which he had just affixed a proclamation, his features darkened to a scowl.

"No doubt 'tis that insolent knave Hood," he muttered, "and one of the louts with whom he consorts. I have long suspected the fellow of unlawful practices. One of these days I shall lay him by the heels, and then it will go hard with him. As for this notice, methinks it is more likely to stir him to mockery than to a sense of prudence, so daring and presumptuous is the rogue. We shall see. He will have no excuse for pleading that he has not been warned, at all events!"

Robin Hood, the impoverished young gentleman who kept what state he could afford in the castle that was his home, was striding through the greenwood. And Maid Marian, the lovely daughter of the old minstrel, was approaching to meet him. Three more blasts the man gave, and not one of them evoked a response. He came on slowly, vexed and puzzled, peering into the foliage. Again he raised the horn that hung at his side, and lowered it at the sound of merry laughter. And with that the thickets were parted, and the girl appeared to her lover, who chided her in jest as he gallantly kissed her hand.

"So it pleases you to make a sport of me," he said. "You would have had me believe that you had turned back!"

Maid Marian laughed again; but the roguery faded from her face, and a wave of colour flushed it, as Robin Hood gently took her in his arms. He whispered to her, and the flush deepened on her cheeks. For a time they were so still, so silent that birds alighted on the boughs above their heads. A handsome couple they were, and pledged to each other by vows of eternal constancy, despite the barrier of birth. As dark as a woodland pool were the girl's eyes, and as black and glossy as a raven was her hair; while the man was tall; slim and fair, with blue eyes that could flash with anger, or melt with tenderness that was more eloquent than words.

"It is strange that you should care so much for me," murmured Maid Marian, with a sigh.

"Nay, not so," Robin Hood answered. "There is not in the length and breadth of the King's realm one with half your charms!"

"But you are well born, and I am the daughter of a wandering minstrel who harps in the halls of the gentry!"

"You are fitted to be a queen, Marian, and my queen you are! As for my birth, and my castle, I cannot properly support either with an empty purse, nor would I if I could. I am of the mind, in very truth, to dwell in the greenwood after we are married, and I would have you tell me when that is to be!"

"I do not know, Robin. My father needs me."

"He shall have us both. There will always be bite and sup for him, and a warm corner by my fireside. And my friends will be his friends, else will they cease to be mine. But come, sweet mistress. The sun is shining, and the birds do sing. Why tarry here when pleasanter spots invite?"

"I go where you bid," Maid Marian whispered.

And she glanced coyly at her lover, who shifted his bow and quiver from one shoulder to the other, and slipped his arm around the girl's waist.

Slowly, too happy for speech, they strolled through the forest: by familiar paths, not caring whither they went. Finally they came to a wide-girthed trees, to which was nailed a sheet of parchment; and when Robin Hood, had read what was written thereon, and had noted the name at the bottom, and the dangling seals, his brow clouded, and a wrathful gleam flashed to his eyes.

"What's this?" he exclaimed. "A Royal proclamation! It is forbidden under heavy penalties to kill the King's red-deer in Sherwood Forest! All are hereby warned by the Sheriff of Nottingham! In faith, I like this varlet's impudence!"

"Impudent he may be," Maid Marian replied, "yet he is but the mouthpiece of King Richard in this matter! As for the slaying of the deer, that has always been forbidden in the forest!"

"And a most foolish and tyrannical law it is! Are the poor to starve, and the gentry to forego their sport and a taste of venison, because of a mere whim on the part of his Majesty? I have done as I pleased where the red-deer are concerned, and I always shall. The sheriff has known, and heretofore he has paid little or no heed to me. But now, perhaps because he feels that 'tis time he asserted his dignity, he offers me an insult by displaying this notice in the greenwood. Little do I care for him, as I will show him if he takes the trouble to spy upon my doings!"

"Best had you be careful, Robin. Remember that he has many armed retainers who are sworn to do his bidding. Moreover, he has a bitter hatred of you!"

"In very truth he has. Thou art right, Marian. Ay, that scurvy fellow Gaveston would dearly love to throw me into his dungeon. But be sure that I will give him no opportunity of ——"

Robin Hood paused abruptly, and listened to a low, pattering noise that had floated to his ears. The girl had also heard it, and as the two peered over the thickets into an open glade that was in front of them, there trotted into view a herd of deer.

The King's proclamation was forgotten. Maid Marian was as thrilled by this chance of sport as was Robin, who whipped his bow and quiver from his shoulder. He fitted an arrow, and measured his aim with the keen eye for which he was noted in Nottinghamshire. "Twang! went the bow-string, and the feathered dart, speeding swift and true, buried itself in the flank of a noble buck.

"Bravo!" cried the girl. " fine shot!"

"'Twas not bad," assented Robin Hood; his face flushing with pride.

"But the animal falls not. Plant another arrow. Be quick, or you will lose it!"

"Nay, let us give chase to it. We shall have it in the end. Come, fair mistress!"

The herd had passed from sight, and with them the wounded deer, which was lagging a little behind. Side by side, laughing as they ran, Maid Marian and her lover sped in pursuit, dragging through brake and copse, and winding amongst the trees.

Gradually they gained on the stricken buck, and at length, in pity for it, Robin Hood brought it dead to the ground by in arrow that penetrated to a vital part. He hastened to the spot, and cheered loudly as he waved his cap. The girl dapped her hands with joy, and the next instant her mood changed.

"Poor creature!" she said, in a wistful tone. "It seems a pity to have slain it! How cruel we are!"

"'Twas not cruel sport," declared Robin Hood. "My larder was nearly empty, and I have hungry mouths to feed. It is no easy task to satisfy them, forsooth. As for Friar Tuck, my jolly fat monk, he eats enough for two men!"

"A comical fellow he is indeed, and kind of heart. But hurry home, Robin, lest the friar loses some of his plumpness from waiting."

"It will do him no harm to fast a while. Home I will go, but not alone. You shall go with me, and I will send forth Dickon to summon your father to join us. We will have a right Royal feast this day, and there is wine in plenty to wash the venison down with!"

"The castle is no place for me. I feel ill at ease under your roof, good Robin!"

"Nay, how could you? Are you not to reign there as queen after we are married? Come, now, my sweet Marian! But first lend me a hand with this noble animal."

As Robin Hood spoke he raised the buck, and when the girl had helped him to hoist it upon his back they set off towards the stately dwelling that was situated on the borders of the forest.

Presently, as they were moving along an open path, they were perceived by the Sheriff of Nottingham, who was lurking behind the trunk of a tree. He had been waiting here for a time, his suspicions having been roused by a glimpse of the frightened herd of deer, and by the voices of the pursuers. He was a good hater, and for years past many a grudge against Robin Hood had rankled in his mind. His eyes blazed with evil triumph. He ground his teeth, and shook his clenched fists.

"By my halidom, can insolence go farther?" he muttered. "Under my very nose, in spite of the King's proclamation, that scurvy rogue has dared to kill a deer. Too long has he flouted my authority, and there must be an end of it now. He is on his way to the castle, where doubtless he will feast on venison with his boisterous crew. I will there take him into custody, and this night he shall lie in my dungeon, loaded with chains. Ay, he shall bitterly rue his unlawful deed."

Robin Hood and his sweetheart had passed from the sight of Lanfrey Gaveston, who uttered a sinister laugh as he left his hiding-place, and bent his steps in the direction of the town of Nottingham.

The Sheriff of Nottingham Arrives to Arrest Robin Hood

No shadow marred the festivities at Robin Hood's ancestral home that day. No one spared a thought for the Sheriff of Nottingham. The buck had been put upon a spit and roasted, and it was the middle of the afternoon when the feast began. In the grassy quadrangle of the castle, where the sun was shining brightly, a merry company sat down to a long table. Old Mordaunt the minstrel was there, and his pretty daughter Marian, and jolly Friar Tuck. There were other comely and vivacious, girls, and the rest of the party were friends and retainers of the host, to whom they were so devoted that they would have followed anywhere at his bidding.

Robin Hood knew that he could depend on them, and he had foreseen that a time might come when he would be compelled to lead them forth to a free life in the forest, or be thrust into prison for his disregard of the King's law.

Loud and clear rang his laughter as the juicy meat was devoured, and bumpers of sack were emptied.

At length he rose, lifting high a silver goblet, and proposed the health of Maid Marian. But ere the toast could be drunk, Dickon, one of the faithful servants, appeared in a state of agitation.

"The Sheriff of Nottingham is without, master," he announced, "and he would have speech with you. I mistrust his errand, for he has brought an armed force with him."

Consternation fell on the assemblage, and all sprang to their feet save the fat monk, who had eaten so much that he had not the energy to rise.

"Oh, Robin, he has come to arrest you!" cried the girl. "He must have learned of the killing of the deer this morning!"

"This is a sad business," said old Mordaunt, wagging his grey beard. "What is to be done?"

"It were best to be friendly with him," urged Friar Tuck. "Let us invite him to the feast. These rich foods and golden wines may tickle his palate, and cause him to forget all else."

"Nay; I'll offer no friendship to my enemy, which he has foolishly chosen to be," vowed Robin Hood. "I shall go out to him, and give him plain talk!"

"Don't — oh, don't! pleaded Maid Marian, tears starting in her eyes. "I will never see you again!"

"Be not afraid, sweet mistress. I will say what is in my mind to Lanfrey Gaveston, and when I have finished, I will come back. Be sure of that!"

"No, no, Robin! For my sake do not——"

The girl's appeal was drowned by other protesting voices. All gathered around Robin Hood, and begged him to run no risk. But he was deaf to their advice. He shook his head, and laughed in scorn.

"I will come back," he repeated, "after I have spoken with the fellow. It would be cowardly of me to deny him an audience."

And with that off he went as bold as a lion, yet with no intention of risking his liberty. Having passed from the court into a wing of the castle, a sound of heavy rapping drew him along a corridor to a small door that was of massive wood, studded with iron. He unbarred and opened it, and peered from within at the Sheriff of Nottingham, who was standing without. In his hand was a parchment document with seals attached, and at a little distance behind him his armed men were grouped.

Robin Hood Defies the Sheriff

"Why have I been kept waiting, knave?" he demanded, in a voice that rasped like a file. "Had you not word that I was here?"

"I am entertaining guests," Robin Hood answered pleasantly, "and I could not leave them at once."

"They will have to entertain themselves. I have business with you that will take you from home."

"It is business that is to my liking, I trust. I perceive that you have there a document with the King's seal. Has he done me the honour to summon me to Court?"

"Nay, impudent fellow! This is a summons for you to dwell in my dungeon, which has long been ready for you. Know that I, by virtue of the royal, authority vested in me, do hereby apprehend you in custody for killing, contrary to law, one of his Majesty's red-deer in the Forest of Sherwood."

"I bid you begone!" said Robin Hood, with a contemptuous smile. "That is my answer."

"You will suffer the more for your insolence, you rogue. When you lie in my dungeon, loaded with chains, I will——"

"A plague on your dungeon! I am not there yet, and not you nor your men can put me there! I am a loyal subject of the King, and if his Majesty will pay me a visit, I will talk with him concerning the killing of the deer, which I do not regard as being unlawful. But your authority I flout, Lanfrey Gaveston. I will have none of it. I defy you!"

With that Robin Hood slammed the door shut in the sheriff's very face, and quickly barred and bolted it. And with, an angry clamour ringing in his ears, and the stout timbers, quivering to a rain of blows, he returned to the quadrangle, and told his friends and retainers of the result of the interview. Loudly they applauded his courage, and with one accord, waving their caps, they declared that they would fight for him to the death. But Maid Marian was sorely distressed, and she clung to her lover, and looked sadly up at him, when he drew her aside.

"I am afraid," she said, in a tremulous voice. "It would break my heart if you were to be taken from me!"

"Have no fear," Robin Hood replied. "We will hold out as long as we can, and if it comes to the worst, we will flee to the forest, and there dwell in safety. It will be a free life, fair mistress, and a merry one. We shall be outlawed," he added, his face clouding as he spoke, "and every man's hand will be against us. But the blame will lie at the door of that varlet Gaveston, who is using the law for his own ends. He would scarcely have troubled about the killing of a deer or two were it not that he has a bitter grudge against me."

The Siege

While Robin Hood was talking to the girl, the pounding on the small door ceased. It could not easily have been forced, and the main entrance was no less strong. The King's official had not departed, however, nor was he in the mind to do so yet. A servant who had been hastily sent to the top of the building shouted that the sheriff and his men had withdrawn to a short distance, and when he announced soon afterwards that they were advancing, Robin Hood led his friends and retainers into the castle, and posted some at embrasures, others behind the battlements.

For some minutes a fight was waged with cross-bows and arrows, to the accompaniment of a shrill clamour. Several of the enemy were hit, but their bolts did no damage. They soon withdrew again, carrying the wounded with them, and bawling angry threats; and now, judging that the siege would be raised, Robin Hood and his party went back to the courtyard to their interrupted feast, leaving sentries on the watch above.

There was some show of merriment again, though it was realised that Lanfrey Gaveston would in the end employ all the forces he could command for the reduction of the castle. Friar Tuck's plump face beamed as he sat down to the table, and filled a cup with sack.

"Let us enjoy the good things of life while we may," he said, patting his stomach. "We shall fight the better for it. Meat strengthens the body, and wine gives courage. Look not so sad, Marian. Thou art truly doleful. And as for your father, I can read his thoughts. He is wishing, I'll warrant, that he could handle a quarterstaff as readily as he can tune a harp."

"Ay, that very thing is in my mind," the aged minstrel replied, as he stroked his beard. "But for the infirmity of my years I would gladly strike a blow for Robin Hood, who has been such a good friend to me and to my daughter. He is in the right in this affair. The red-deer were put in the forest to provide food for those who have not gold to spend, and it is a shameful thing that the authority of our good King Richard should be misused by this pompous fellow who rules with a rod of iron in our fair county of ——"

There was a warning shout from one of the sentries on the top of the castle, and what it meant was quickly apparent. The sheriff's men had let fly, at an upward slant, a shower of arrows that soared above and over the battlements. They curved gracefully high in air, and descended into the quadrangle. There was no time for flight or shelter. One of the barbed missiles grazed the tonsured head of the monk, and another penetrated deeply into the breast of old Mordaunt, who started convulsively to his feet, and pitched heavily across the table. Robin Hood lifted him by the shoulders, and Maid Marian bent over him in horror, and burst into tears.

"My father!" she sobbed. "Oh, my poor father! Save him! Do not let him die!"

She turned to her lover, who shook his head. Nothing could be done for the aged minstrel. The arrow was planted between his ribs, and crimson drops were trickling from the wound. His cheeks were of the hue of ashes, and there was a glassy look in his eyes as they rested on his daughter.

"Grieve not for me, child," he gasped, as he writhed in pain. "I am full of years, and this will be a happy release. I do not leave you to the mercies of the cruel world. You will have a protector. Care for her always, Robin. Shield her from harm, and be tender and true to her. I am going fast. I trust my orphan, girl to you, my friend. Promise me that — that — you will ——"

They were old Mordaunt's last words. For a moment he fought for his breath, and then his eyelids dropped, and he lay quite still amidst the litter of the banqueting-table. Friar Tuck clasped his hands, and reverently murmured a prayer, and Maid Marian, weeping bitterly, flung herself across the corpse of her father, and clung to him in anguish.

"He is dead, dead!" she moaned. "He has gone from me! I am alone in the world!"

It would have been useless to seek to comfort the poor girl, nor did Robin Hood strive to. His face was cold and stern, and there was a gleam of wrath in his eyes. He bade some of his party hasten to the embrasures, and then, with a word of sympathy to Maid Marian, he strode into the castle and sought his bedchamber, where he wrote a line on a piece of parchment. With this tucked into his doublet he ascended quickly to the battlements, and gazed down at the sheriff and his retainers, who were scattered about the grassy lawn in front of the building.

"Ah, yonder is the knave, the Sheriff of Nottingham cried!" as he perceived the figure of the man he hated. "Let fly at him!"

Bolts from cross-bows hurtled close to Robin Hood, but he paid no heed to them. Calmly, with steady fingers, he folded the parchment and secured it to the shaft of one of his arrows.

"The varlet deserves death, and no less," he muttered, through his set teeth. "But I'll give him the one chance! Just one!"

He curved his bow, and with unerring aim sent the missile speeding on its way. The next instant the sheriff's cap was whipped from his head, pierced by the arrow. It was picked up by one of his men, and brought to him; and when he had stared at the parchment that was fixed to the feathered dart he opened it curiously, and read, the brief message that was written on it:

"My next arrow will be for your heart."

The warning was enough for Lanfrey Gaveston, who turned very white. After such an exhibition of skill on Robin Hood's part he dared not tarry in the open any longer, lest the threat should be fulfilled. He gathered his retainers around him, and spoke a few words; and then, in hot haste, the whole band scurried over the lawn to the edge of the forest. The sheriff paused there, and shook his fist.

"I will come back, you insolent rogue!" he shouted. "I will come with a larger force, and do the King's bidding! I'll have you in my dungeon ere another day has gone by!"

He plunged into the green cover, and disappeared. And Robin Hood, with a scornful shrug of the shoulders, went sadly down from the roof, and returned to the quadrangle. Maid Marian was still crouching by the body of her father, weeping as if her heart would break. She looked with streaming eyes at her lover, who slipped his arm around her waist, and gently drew her away.

"I share your grief," he said, as he kissed her quivering lips. "You have lost a parent, and I, a dear friend. But, take comfort, sweet mistress. Time-will heal your sorrow, and you will always have me to protect and care for you."

The girl could not speak. She sobbed on Robin Hood's breast, and tears dimmed his own eyes as he stroked her hair.

On the following morning, a couple of hours after sunrise, the blast of a horn awoke the echoes in Sherwood Forest, and gave warning of the approach of the Sheriff of Nottingham. He had been expected, and the garrison was ready. Lanfrey Gavestone had kept his word. When he emerged in the open, flaunting the warrant of arrest as a sign of his authority, he had nearly three-score of men-at-arms at his back. Friar Tuck nodded gravely as he watched from a window-slit.

"'Tis a goodly muster," he murmured.

"Ay, in very truth," Robin Hood assented. "I fear they will be too many for us."

There was but a brief parley. The surrender of the slayer of the King's deer having been demanded, and refused in defiant terms, the sheriff's party advanced at a trot. Several of them were laid low, crippled by arrows; but the rest pushed on to the main entrance of the castle, where a projection over the doorway afforded them some shelter, though not enough to screen them all. They were more courageous than on the previous day, however. Even Lanfrey Gaveston, in his desire to capture Robin Hood, risked life and limb. He moved here and there amongst his followers, urging them to valour.

"Ten pieces of gold to the man who is first inside!" he told them at frequent intervals.

The morning wore on. Again and again the foe were dislodged, but each time they returned to the attack, and with heavy missiles rained blows upon the door, which was almost as stout and massive as a wall of granite. But gradually it was weakened. By noon the timbers showed several cracks, and the hinges were starting from their fastenings. It would probably have yielded to another assault, but the sheriff and his men did not know how near they were to success. They withdrew to the edge of the greenwood, to refresh themselves with food and drink, after their exertions; and the lull was welcome to the besieged, who gathered in groups, and discussed the situation in low and anxious tones.

Robin Hood Takes to the Forest

The besieged company in the castle realised what the end must be, and their hearts went out in sympathy to Robin Hood. He stood apart from the others, with a gloomy countenance, refusing to accompany Friar Tuck to the buttery for a stoup of brown ale. In vain Little John and Will Scarlett, two of his best friends, tried to raise his spirits. He turned from them, and sat down on a bench; and there Maid Marian presently seated herself by his side, and put her hand on his arm.

"Let me comfort you," she whispered.

"Even you cannot do that," Robin Hood replied, shaking his head.

"Does my love count for nothing?"

"It is the greatest treasure I possess, dear Marian. Yet at this time I have much else to think of."

"I understand. You are loth to depart."

"Ay, more loth than I can tell you."

"I am sorry for you, Robin, so sorry. But what must be must be. And we should not wait too long."

The girl referred to what was known to all in the building. There was a subterranean passage, constructed many years ago, which led from the cellars to a spot in the forest that was half a mile distant. And by this means, it had already been decided, the women were at the last to make their escape while the men engaged the enemy. The step was advisable, since it could not be doubted that Lanfrey Gaveston would hold as prisoners all whom he could capture.

"We must not wait too long," Maid Marian repeated, after an interval of silence. "Yet I dread the parting from you. I fear lest you will be killed or taken."

"Fear not for me," bade Robin Hood. "Nay, I and my trusty comrades will hew our way to freedom, be assured. The varlets will make a poor stand against us. It is not that which preys on my mind," he added, with a sigh. "It is the thought of leaving this home that is so dear to me. It is hard — bitterly hard — to feel that I may never put foot in it again. Memories crowd thick and fast upon me, Marian. Here I was born and brought up. Here my mother taught me to walk and to lisp a prayer at her knee. Here my parents died, and they lie buried yonder under the shade of a tree. And I, their unworthy son, am fated to henceforth dwell under the ban of the law, with no roof to cover my head. 'Tis only natural, then, that my heart should be heavy. But the cloud is passing. The wrench must come, and I'll meet it with fortitude. And why not? I shall always have you, sweet mistress. And a home in the greenwood, with you for wife, will have charms to compensate for the loss of——"

Robin Hood paused. His face had brightened, and there was a look of resignation in his eyes. He kissed the girl, and then, rising from the bench, he drew her with him to the front of the hall, and there assembled his friends around him.

"A word with you all, while I have the opportunity," he said. "The door has been so weakened that a child might almost push it in. That it will yield to the next attack is certain, so when those knaves do advance again, which will be shortly, Friar Tuck will take the women under his wing, and depart with them by means of the secret passages which lead to the ruins of the ancient abbey. The rest of us will then open to the foe, and sally forth amongst them, and give battle with strong hearts and strong arms. When we have fought through, as I doubt not we shall do, we will disperse in the forest, and come together at the mouth of the passage, where the friar and his charges will be waiting for us. To flight we must indeed come, and I like it not. But my conscience is clear. I put the blame on that rogue, Lanfrey Gaveston, who would persecute me for his own ends."

There were no cheers at the conclusion of this speech. The occasion was one for sorrow rather than rejoicing, yet Robin's friends and retainers were none the less eager to engage the enemy, at close quarters. The blast of a horn was now heard, ringing from the edge of the greenwood. It was the signal for the attack to be renewed, and it brought Maid Marian in haste from the quadrangle, whither she had gone to kiss for the last time her father's cold cheek. Having embraced her lover with tears in her eyes, and begged him to be careful, she sped away at a word of Friar Tuck, who guided her and the other women to the cellar where the secret passage began.

The sheriff and his men were approaching at a run, their ardour stimulated by meat and drink. Over the sward they came, calling to one another to make a speedy end of the siege, and little dreaming of the surprise that was in store for them. They had no chance to beat upon the massive door, nor even to reach it. For the fastenings had been undone, and it was pulled wide on its hinges when they had got to within several yards of it. And there was Robin Hood, ready for the fray.

"Follow where I go, Little John!" he cried. "And you, too, Will Scarlett. We three will lead the way. And now set to, my good fellows. Have at them. Strike for liberty!"

"A murrain on the varlets!" bawled Lanfrey Gaveston, as he saw what was intended. "They would seek to escape. Frustrate them. And fail not to slay that villain Hood if you cannot take him alive. Twenty pieces of gold to the one who——"

His voice was drowned by the cheers of the party front the castle. Impetuous was their onset, and the battle that ensued was to be talked of at many a cottage fireside in years to come. Right well did Little John and Will Scarlett support their gallant leader, who held his quarter-staff above him at arms length, and mowed men down with it as if they had been dried reeds.

"Have at them!" he shouted again and again. Have at the knaves!"

The Attack on Robin Hood's Castle

The issue was at first in doubt, the enemy showing no lack of courage. The sound of staves beating on staves, and the clash of steel on steel, blended with the shrill clamour of the combatants. There was a time when brave Robin and his followers were hard pressed, surrounded on all sides by the yelling, striking foe. But in the end they conquered the odds. By lusty whacks and desperate valour they hewed a path clean through their assailants, and got clear of them. Not one of their number had they lost; nor had any been even badly hurt. But they left the ground behind them strewn with Lanfrey Gaveston's men-at-arms — some of them lying stunned, and some writhing with broken limbs and cracked heads. As for the sheriff, he was dancing about like a madman, raving incoherently while he held a hand to a bleeding nose. At the borders of the wood Robin Hood turned to wave to him, and to call a mocking farewell.

"One favour I would ask of you, Gaveston," he added; "and if ever you demand one in return, I will grant it. Give decent burial to old Mordaunt, the minstrel, who has died of an arrow shot by your men. And mark his grave, so that it may be known to his daughter."

The sheriff answered with an imprecation, and another sang in Robin Hood's ears as he plunged into the leafy cover. The angry clamour faded behind him, and soon he had with him only Will Scarlett and Little John, who was so called in irony for his tremendous bulk. The rest of the band had scattered in different directions, yet none went far out of their way; for every man had put in an appearance within five minutes after the arrival of the leader at the abbey ruins, where he found Friar Tuck and the women ; awaiting him. Maid Marian flew to his arms, almost weeping for joy; and she was still in his embrace, listening to his account of the fight, when the last of the men joined the party.

"Well," here we all are," said the fat friar. "Heaven be praised!"

The exit from the secret passage was on high ground, and in the distance, through a rift in the trees, could be seen the grey battlements of the castle. Robin Hood's melancholy eyes rested on them, and he slowly shook his head.

"Driven forth for the killing of a paltry deer!" he murmured "Banished from the roof that has sheltered me from childhood, and nurtured my ancestors. 'Tis a sore grievance. But worse might have befallen. I have much to be thankful for."

His gaze left the castle, and as it swept his companions he smiled bravely, and tossed his yellow hair back from his shoulders with a careless gesture.

"Ho for a merry life!" he said. "In the greenwood we'll dwell, with the sky for our roof. I'll be king of the domain, and you will be my loyal subjects. What matter, if we be outlawed, as truly we now are? We must subsist, and to do so we must prey on such travellers as venture into our realm. But we will rob only the rich, and what spoils we may take from them we will share with the poor. None who are in need shall appeal to us for alms and depart empty-handed. And now come, lest danger steal upon us. We go to a far place, and a safe one, where we can dwell without fear of the knavish Sheriff of Nottingham."

"Where that place be, I care not," declared Friar Tuck, "so long as fish, flesh, and fowl abound!"

"For shame, jovial monk!" laughed Robin Hood. "You think more of your stomach than of your religion!"

With that he struck into the forest, still sad at heart, yet comforted by the presence of Maid Marian at his side. And in silence his friends and retainers filed after him, as willing to share his exile as they had been to carouse at his hospitable board.

PART TWO.

The leaves had dropped and withered, and the trees had bloomed forth again in verdure since the siege of the castle. Shortly after that event Friar Tuck had married the minstrel's pretty daughter to Robin Hood, and for nearly a year he and his merry men had been living in the deep lonely heart of Sherwood Forest, making their home now at one spot, and now at another. They had had no cause to grumble. Never had they lacked meat or wine, or anything else that they craved for. Many travellers they had waylaid, and despoiled of gold and merchandise, sending them off with empty purses and saddlebags. A goodly band they were in appearance, for a tailor had fallen into their hands with three pack-horses laden with bales of cloth, and they had forced him to accept their hospitality until he had made for each of them a suit of Lincoln green. They had paid him, however, not letting the man suffer any loss. And by such fair deeds, and by giving to the poor a portion of what he took from the purses of the rich, the leader of these rovers of the greenwood had acquired a reputation for chivalry. Exile, and the ban of the law, sat lightly on his shoulders. Happy he was indeed, with a beautiful wife to love him, and subjects as loyal and devoted as ever a monarch had.

These doings, it may be imagined, had highly incensed the Sheriff of Nottingham. His hatred of Robin Hood had so increased in virulence that he could scarcely sleep at night for thinking of him. And he was the further enraged because of his utter helplessness. He had not a sufficient force of men-at-arms to cope with the outlaws, whose number had been swelled by new recruits; and, moreover, they could easily have eluded him had he gone forth to give them battle. He had twice forwarded a report to the King in London, and requested that soldiers should be sent to him. But no favourable answer had been received, and he had not asked again. The truth was that Richard the Lion-hearted, the hero of the Crusades, had heard favourable tales of Robin Hood from other sources, and was not disposed to think very harshly of him.

In those days Saxons and Normans dwelt in amity in England, and on the borders of Sherwood Forest there lived in an old castle a Saxon gentleman, aged seventy, Hardfast by name, who had a young and lovely daughter. His affection for her, however, was as nothing compared to his passion for gold. He had wealth in plenty, and as he was counting it one morning, and chuckling with delight, he was startled by the sound of footsteps. He hurriedly thrust his money-bags into a chest, and slammed the lid down as the girl entered the room. She was a petite little maid, as pretty as a picture, with hair that was the colour of ripe corn. She stood before her father with flushed cheeks, and with a light in her blue eyes that was new to him.

"Dost know that I am grown nearly to a woman?" she said timidly. "I am eighteen to-day."

"And what is that to me?" muttered Hardfast, who wanted to be at his wealth again.

"There is a suitor for my hand. He desires that I would wed him, and I, too, am of that mind, for he pleases me much."

"A suitor—eh? And who is he, Helen?"

"He is Allan-a-Dale, father, whom I have known from childhood."

"What, that fellow!" exclaimed the old miser. "He dares to ask for your hand. A plague on his presumption!"

"He is well-born," urged the girl, trembling at the storm she had roused. "And he is handsome and gallant."

"Speak not of him. He is poor, and, therefore, he is no fitting match for you. Order him about his business, or send him to me. I'll tell him that you must marry riches!"

"But I want to marry Allan. He loves me, and I love him. Won't you let me be happy?"

"Gold means happiness, child. Poverty means misery."

"It doesn't always!" vowed Helen. "I would rather starve with Allan in a cottage than live in a palace with the richest man in England."

"You are a little fool!" spluttered Hardfast, glaring at his daughter. "How came such nonsense into your head? I'll have none of it, mark you! Not another word! Give no further thought to that varlet! I forbid you to have speech with him again, or to let him approach you! I'll find a husband for you! He will be one to my liking, not to yours! He will be no beardless boy with empty pockets!"

"Oh, father, don't try to part me from Allan-a-Dale!"

"I'll do more than part you! I'll have him beaten by my servants, if he comes near you!"

The girl's lips quivered. Her eyes filled with tears, and after a moment of hesitation she slowly and sadly left the room. The old miser had forgotten his moneybags. Knowing what rare charms his daughter possessed, he had hoped that she would one day have suitors with fat purses, and perhaps blue blood as well. The interview had upset him. He paced to and fro on tremulous limbs, scowling and fuming, and shaking his fist at an imaginary Allan-a-Dale.

"The presumptuous rogue!" he muttered. "A lad with hardly a groat to his name. Yet cunning he hath. It is in his mind to have the spending of my wealth after I am gone. Ay, 'tis more from greed than love that he woos Helen. But she is not for him. Forsooth, rather than let her wed such a fellow, I would——"

The miser broke off abruptly. He had just heard a clatter of hoofs, and as he looked from the window, and saw two horsemen drawing rein out in the road, an expression of surprise crept over his face.

"It is Fitzurse, in very truth!" he said to himself. "He has been none too friendly with me, yet he comes here. What errand can have brought him?"

One of the horsemen was a servant, and the other was his master, a rich Norman baron, who bore the name of Fitzurse. He lived at a big place several miles away, and held state there with the pride and dignity that his position warranted. He was as conceited as a peacock, and yet few men had less reason to be so. He was more than eighty years of age, lean, withered, and bent, with gnarled and shrunken features of a sensuous type, and a wisp or two of grey hair clinging to his bald pate; his lips were twisted awry, and there was a cast in one of his bleary eyes.

Fitzurse, the Norman Baron.

The servant had swung to the ground, and was assisting his master to dismount. They came through the gate, and up the garden path to the door, on which the servant rapped. And presently the haughty Norman was ushered into the room, a figure of mirth in his silken hose, and doublet slashed with silver and purple, and plumed cap of velvet.

"I give you greeting, Hardfast,"_he croaked, in a voice that rattled like dry bones.

"And I bid you welcome, noble baron," replied the old Saxon. "'Tis a pleasure to have you under my roof. But pray be seated, and let me serve you with what you may wish!"

"Nay, my business will not detain me long. I will put it in words brief and clear. You have a daughter who is of tender years, and right goodly to look upon."

"She is so considered, I believe."

"Rumour does not lie, for often have I seen the maid. She has taken my fancy, and I would do her the honour of making her my wife."

There was silence for a few seconds. Ambitious and mercenary though Hardfast was, his conscience stung him at the thought of giving Helen as wife to this aged nobleman, who was tottering on the brink of the grave. But his scruples soon vanished. Here was such a chance, he reflected, as he had not dreamed would come to him. He was careful, however, not to show his feelings.

"It is indeed a great honour, baron," he said. "But——"

He paused, and shook his head.

"I could look higher for a bride," Fitzurse answered drily. There are women of princely blood who would fall at my knees did I lift my little finger. Yet I put affection above the obligations of birth, and therefore I am willing to wed with the daughter of a Saxon, and raise her to my own high estate!"

"She is still young in years," murmured Hardfast, shaking his head again.

"She is of an age to marry, surely?"

"Ay, that is true. But I fear her heart is not in her keeping. She hath a lover, of whom she spoke to me only this morning."

"I have a rival, then? What manner of man is he? Can he dower a bride with wealth and position?"

"Not so, baron. He is a youth with empty pockets, and thus one not to my liking."

"A poverty-stricken suitor!" sneered Fitzurse. "Then why waste words on him? Does not the matter rest with you? Will you let your daughter be carried off under your nose?"

"I have told her that I would have none of this Allan-a-Dale," said the miser.

"Tell her again. Is she her own mistress, or do you rule her?"

"Methinks she may prove stubborn."

"Break her will. Cure her of her folly by harsh measures. Look you, Hardfast, here is a token of what more there will be to come to you when I am married to the girl!"

As Fitzurse spoke he thrust his skinny fingers into his pocket, and drew from it a silken purse that bulged, with gold. He shook it at Hardfast, whose eyes glittered as he listened to the chinking of the coins. All the avarice of his nature had been roused.

"You—you have brought this for me?" he gasped.

"On conditions," cackled the old Norman. "You will pledge your daughter to me for wife, and, should she fail me at the altar, or meanwhile run off with that penniless varlet, you will pay back to me the money!"

"The terms are fair, in truth. And how much does the purse contain."

"Two hundred pieces, Hardfast.. Take it. Feel the weight of it!"

"Ay, it is heavy, indeed! You spoke of more to come, I think?"

"Much more, by my faith. On the day when I am wedded to Mistress Helen there will be for you three more purses, in each of which will be two hundred pieces of gold. Is it a bargain?"

"Verily it is. My daughter shall be yours!"

"See that you keep to your promise. And now I would have it made clear to the girl, in my presence, that I am the husband you have chosen for her. Summon her forthwith!"

"She is not in the house," Hardfast replied. "I saw her go by the window whilst we were in conversation, and I doubt not we shall find her yonder in the open. Come, noble baron! I will take you to her, and I will give her to understand in plain words that she is to wed with you, and have nothing more to do with that fellow Allan-a-Dale. Come, my generous friend!"

The purse had changed hands, and was in the miser's keeping. Side by side, leering at each other, the two old dotards tottered across the room.

Allan-a-Dale Speaks His Mind, But Is Powerless.

Barring his poverty, which was his misfortune and not his fault, Allan-a-Dale was a youth with whom any fair lady in the land might have been proud and glad to mate. Blue blood flowed in his veins, and he was tall, and sturdy, and dark, with a handsome face that had set many a maid's heart to fluttering. Having ventured that morning into the grounds of the Hardfast dwelling, he had found Helen at a spot where he had been wont to meet her.

She had told him, with quivering lips, of her father's harsh denial of her request. And the youth, at first at a loss for words, had drawn her to a rustic bench and seated himself by her side. It had dawned upon him that he had been presumptuous, in spite of his gentle birth, in aspiring to the hand of the daughter of the wealthy old Saxon. Not until now had he felt the sting of poverty.

"What is to be done?" he asked, in a dull tone.

"Truly I know not!" the girl replied. "My father is determined and obstinate. He spoke even more harshly than I have told you."

"He would have you mated to a rich husband, I suppose."

"Yes, that is his desire. He cares more for gold that he does for me. I love you dearly, Allan, and love you I always will. Yet I fear that we shall never be wedded."

"It stabs me to think so. Ah, fair mistress, if only I were not poor!"

"You are none the less dear to me for that. Had I money of my own I would share it with you."

"Would you have the courage to marry me against your father's will?"

"I should not lack courage, Allan, yet it might be a foolish step. You would have two mouths to feed instead of one, and that you could not do."

"It would be difficult, I'll not deny. But we should not starve. And we might be happy together if your love for me was strong enough to bear the test of——"

"Hark!" interrupted the girl. "What is that?"

Footsteps were approaching, and the next instant, around a turn of the path, appeared Hardfast and the old Norman. They hurried forward, the one as much enraged as the other at the sight that met their gaze. The lovers sprang to their feet, and Allan-a-Dale boldly stood his ground, flushed and defiant.

"What's this?" cried Hardfast. "Do I see you with the fellow I've forbidden you to speak to? How dare you disobey me, child?"

"Don't be angry, father!" pleaded Helen. "If you have any affection for me, let me marry whom I will!"

"'Tis my fault that we are together, sir!" spoke up the youth. "I am here by no invitation. Yet I tell you without fear that I love your daughter, and that I would have her for my wife!"

"Ay, that you might some day inherit my moneybags, you penniless lout!" fairly shrieked the old miser. "I will have none of it! I have found a suitor for the maid! She has taken the fancy of the noble Baron Fitzurse, who has done her the honour of asking for her hand. And I have pledged her to him!"

A startled gasp burst from Helen's lips, and she stared in horror at the decrepit, blear-eyed nobleman, who fixed upon her a glance that he believed to be captivating. Allan-a-Dale was no less horrified than was the girl.

"By goodness, sir, I'll speak my mind on this matter!" he exclaimed hotly. "It will be a crying shame—a sin to be answered for—if you sell your daughter to this aged wreck of a man who has one foot in the grave! Will you let the greed of gold drive you to such a crime? I cannot believe it!"

The old Norman raised a withered hand to his ear, as if he could not believe that he had heard himself thus abused. Hardfast was for a moment staggered by the youth's audacity, and then he fairly danced in his excitement.

"By my halidom, never have I heard the like!" he spluttered.

"He calls me an aged wreck!" cackled Baron Fitzurse.

"Insolent varlet!" raved the miser, shaking his fist at Allan-a-Dale. "Knave that thou art! You would dare call me to account! Not for you is my daughter! Mark my words, and drive me not too far! Put foot henceforth on my domain, and I'll have my servants beat you with sticks until every bone in your body is broken! And they shall then fling you into a ditch to rot!"

"Nay, Hardfast, it would not be punishment enough! vowed Fitzurse, his sunken eyes blazing with hatred. "If so be as the fellow disobeys you, beat him first, and then send him to me. And I'll cast him into one of my foul dungeons, to die amongst the rats!"

They were no empty threats that had been uttered. In those days men like the old Norman had the power to do pretty much as they liked. So Allan-a-Dale knew. He was not blind to his danger. Yet he had remained calm and defiant while he listened to the storm he had provoked. The girl was the more frightened of the two. In her anxiety for her lover she had forgotten her own terror.

"Go, Allan—go!" she urged in a low tone. "I tremble for you! For my sake, please go!"

"If he tarries here, it will be at his peril!" cried Hardfast. "I'll send forthwith for my servants!"

The youth hesitated, strongly tempted to speak his mind yet more fully. But another pleading word from Helen cooled his passion, and with a pathetic glance at her—a glance of farewell—he turned on his heel and strode away.

"Keep your distance in future," the miser shouted after him, "if you value your skin!"

"'Tis a good riddance!" wheezed Fitzurse, with a hideous grin. "We have finished with the varlet, Hardfast, and I shall have my bride. Ha, a charming maid she is indeed!"

He leered like a Satyr at Helen, who was in dread lest he would touch her, yet had not the strength to flee. She sank down on the bench, and burst into a flood of tears, and crouched there weeping whilst the two old harpies wagged their heads at each other. Had Allan-a-Dale heard her frantic sobs he might have returned hot-foot, ready to brave any evil. But he had passed from Hardfast's grounds, and was crossing a meadow where a rushing stream dinned in his ears. There was in his heart a pain that was like the twisting of a knife round and round. Deep was his love for the girl, and anguishing the thought that he had lost her.

"Alas, woe is me!" he said to himself. "I would fain carry off Helen from her father's house, and I doubt not she would consent. But, it would be impossible. She will be too closely guarded hereafter. Why was I born poor, and to such misery? A cruel thing it is that I should be thus spurned and cast out because of an empty purse, though I be young and strong. I must step aside for the Baron Fitzurse, with his fat moneybags, and his blue blood that is dried in his veins. He will be wedded to my beloved, and on that day I shall lie down and die. Or else I'll take to soldiering, and seek a speedy end in battle."

In such a mood was the handsome young Saxon, bereft of hope, and tortured by his passion for the old miser's lovely daughter. His face was set towards Sherwood Forest, which was near by, and thither he bent his course, not knowing nor caring why.

Allan-a-Dale's First Meeting with Robin Hood's Band.

Blindly and aimlessly, sunk in depression so numbing that he was deaf to the singing of the birds and the stirring of the deer, Allan-a-Dale wandered on and on for hours, until he had got far within the vast solitude.

At length he paused, observing that the sun was no great distance above the horizon; and as he was leaning against a tree, lacking the will-power to retrace his steps, he heard to his left the snapping of a twig, and the next instant there burst upon him from the thickets two strapping fellows, garbed in Lincoln green, and wearing plumed hats, who menaced him with glittering daggers.

"Move not," threatened one, "else you will taste of cold steel!"

"What art doing so far in the greenwood?" demanded the other. "Give an account of yourself!"

"'Tis my concern, not yours," muttered Allan-a-Dale, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders.

"In truth, an insolent fellow, Little John!" said the shorter of the two.

"And he hath an ill-temper," his companion assented. "Yet he may have a fat purse beneath his silken doublet!"

"A fat purse!" echoed the youth, with a bitter laugh. "Hardly a groat have I to my name, and no prospect of having any! As for your daggers, I care not if you bury them to the hilt in my——"

As he spoke a sudden irritation, a sense of resentment against everybody and everything, fired his wrath. He struck at one of his captors, and wrenched his blade from his grasp, meaning to use it. But before he could thrust with it both men set upon him, and, though he fought right lustily, and gave some hard knocks, he had no chance with two such powerful assailants.

He was soon borne to the ground, and as he lay there, helpless, with the breath out of him, he expected to feel the cold steel. But no further violence was intended. He was hauled to his feet by the larger of the men, a veritable giant in stature and build. He held the captive's arm in a grip that was like a vice, and with the other hand searched his pockets, in which he found several copper coins. He glanced at them in contempt.

"They are not worth the trouble we've had!" he grumbled. "And what are we to do with this fellow?"

"Methinks we had better fetch him along with us," his companion replied.

"I am of the same mind, Will Scarlet. It may be that he has been sent hither to spy upon us!"

"Ay, that is true."

Allan-a-Dale's anger was spent, and he was in such depression again that he would not have had the heart to escape had the opportunity offered.

"Where would you take me?" he inquired, in a dull tone.

"To our chief, Robin Hood, whom we serve," the big man answered.

"He will decide your fate, young sir," declared the other.

They expected the youth to show surprise or fear, but he gave no sign of either. He merely nodded.

"I will come with you right willingly," he said. "It matters not to me whither I go!"

And, with the outlaws on either side of him, he struck into the greenwood.

How Allan-a-Dale Joined Robin Hood's Band

The day was drawing to a close, and the sun, still above the horizon, shed a mellow light on a glade that was in the deepest recesses of Sherwood Forest. It was girt about by great trees, through the trunks of which flashed the silvery waters of a brook that teemed with fish, This lonely spot had for some time been the home of Robin Hood and his band, who never stayed long at one place. Some of the band were absent, and the rest were enjoying their ease here after a successful chase of the red-deer.

They were gathered in graceful attitudes around the famous outlaw, who was seated on a stool that had been fashioned for him, with his yellow locks floating to the breeze. Maid Marian was nestled at his feet, weaving a wreath of flowers with the assistance of her servant Alfreda. Friar Tuck had been singing a rollicking ditty, and he was now deaf to the appeals of the company that he should go on with it.

"Nay, my voice is weak from hunger," he vowed, smacking his lips. "it must first be strengthened with good wine and juicy meat!"

"Have a care, you fat rogue!" chided Robin Hood. "'Tis not yet the hour for the evening meal. Unless we hear three more staves forthwith, no bite or sup will you get. You shall stand by with an empty stomach, while we——" He broke off, and raised his hand to his brow. "Who come yonder?" he murmured.

"They are Little John and Will Scarlet," said Maid Marian.

"And another is with them," observed Dickon. "He would appear to be a stranger."

The group of three had just broken cover at the edge of the glade. Quickly they strode over the grass, and stopped in front of their leader, who bent a keen, searching gaze on the captive.

"We came upon him in the greenwood, wandering as one lost," explained Will Scarlet. "A lusty fight he gave us, and for our trouble we were repaid by four copper coins."

"We know not who he is," put in Little John; "and as we have had no account of him, we judged it wise to fetch him along, thinking that he might be a spy."

The youth shook his head with a gesture of disdain. His eyes had carelessly swept the gathering, and they were now fixed in vague curiosity upon the robber chief.

"I am no spy," he said. "Of that you may be sure. Whether you be honest men or knaves is no business of mine!"

"Know you who I am?" asked Robin Hood.

"Ay, you are the king of robbers!" was the listless reply.

"You dare speak thus to my face? Hast no fear, presumptuous youth?"

"I fear no man. I have reached a pass where I care not if I live or die."

"And what trouble has caused such depression?"

"It is my own. I will confide it not to strangers!"

"I am not so much of a stranger as you may think, perchance," muttered Robin Hood. "In days gone by——" He paused, and the frown that was on his face turned to a smile. "I know you," he added, laughing. "You are young Allan-a-Dale, who didst formerly live at the Moat House. I have been your father's guest there, and he has supped at my castle. But that was in past times, when my father and yours were alive!"

"I have no recollection of you," the youth said dully.

"Nay, you would not have. You were a tiny child, and I was not much more. Now we have met again, and I find you weary of life. I would again ask, in spite of your rebuff, what has brought you to such straits? Yet I might guess. I mind that when your father died his estate was loaded with debts, and the Moat House had to be sold. So I judge that you were left without substance, and thus the world goes hard with you?"

"There is truth in that," assented Allan-a-Dale, who was now inclined to speak freely. "Little indeed did I inherit from my father. But it is not poverty that has made life a burden to me, though that is in some part the cause. Have you knowledge of a Saxon gentleman named Hardfast?"

"Ay, that I have," Robin Hood answered. "I knew the old miser when I still dwelt in my castle!"

"And do you also know the Baron Fitzurse?"

"I know him to be a rogue without scruples or conscience, and with a wicked eye for a petticoat!"

"You cannot speak too badly of him. Know, then, that between Hardfast and this Norman baron I am to be robbed of the maid who is all the world to me. She is Helen, the lovely daughter of Hardfast, and she loves me as I love her. Yet she is to be forced to wed with Fitzurse!"

"Alack and alas! To wed with that tottering dotard?"

"It is true. And the reason why her father is selling her is plain. I have an empty purse, while Fitzurse has stores of gold!"

"It is a sad case, young Allan. I would hear more of it."

The youth's tongue had been loosened, and it needed no further urging to draw from him the whole story, which he told in simple and pathetic language that stirred his listeners. When he had finished he sighed deeply, and so did Friar Tuck, whose fat face was as long as a fiddle,

"Women are the cause of all ills," he said, in a doleful tone. "They are thorns in the side of mankind. Thankful am I that not one hath ever caused me a moment of uneasiness."

"Sour grapes, friar!" laughed Maid Marian. "I'll warrant you have lost your heart in days past."

"Nay, I have cared for naught but religion!"

"And for the pleasures of the stomach, good Tuck."

There was a burst of merriment. It died away, and silence fell for a short interval. Allan-a-Dale's handsome face and graceful figure, no less than the romantic tale he had told, had won the sympathies of the women of the party. It was so with Maid Marian more than with the rest. She put her mouth close to Robin Hood's ear, and whispered to him earnestly. Again and again, while he listened, he shook his head and frowned, but in the end he appeared to have been persuaded. The puckers cleared from his brow, and a gleam of amusement crept into his blue eyes. He nodded, then rose from his stool, and clapped the youth on the shoulder.

"You have a friend at court," he said, "and she has solicited my favour on your behalf, but I would first question you concerning the matter. Is this maid's affection for you as strong as is yours for her?"

"I doubt not that it is," Allan-a-Dale replied. "She loves me with all her heart."

"Would she welcome the opportunity, then, of being saved from the clutches of Baron Fitzurse and wedded to you?"

"I feel sure that she would, in very truth, such is her horror of the baron. Ay, she would gladly be my wife, poor though I am. But you speak of that which is impossible. Strongly will my Helen be guarded, lest I venture near."

"Her father's servants would be of no avail against my band," Robin Hood said drily.

"What mean you?" asked the youth.

"I will tell you in few words. My wife desires your happiness, and she has brought me to the same way of thinking. Therefore, I am in the mind to carry Hardfast's daughter off, and have her married to you by our jolly friar."

"Would—would you really do that?"

"It is indeed my purpose, young Allan."

"Ah, kind sir, how can I thank you?"

"But wait. There is a condition. In return for my service, should it succeed, you will pledge yourself to join my merry band. What say you?"

Allan-a-Dale's hesitation was brief. His thoughtful face suddenly brightened, and he gripped the hand that Robin Hood extended to him.

"A true friend you are!" he exclaimed. "Robbers you may be, yet there is less harm in that than in the wicked doings of Baron Fitzurse! Right gladly will I join your band, and a loyal member of it I'll be! A life in the green-wood will be to my taste, and my sweetheart will be as happy as myself. So it is settled."

The youth's decision evoked cheers from all, and while they were ringing in his ears he knelt by Maid Marian, and kissed her slim, white fingers, and poured out his gratitude to her. And when he rose to his feet, Robin Hood drew him aside and put a hand on his arm,

"You have chosen well," he said. "I believe you will not regret it. As for my plans, they call for some consideration. Be assured, however, that I will contrive some means of rescuing the girl before she can be wedded to Fitzurse. Your bride she shall be, I swear it! But we will speak further of the matter again. Come now with me, young Allan. We will drink a horn of sack together ere the evening meal, and I will then show you where you are to sleep. For from this hour you are one of us, though not yet will you be asked to take the oath of allegiance."

Side by side they strolled across the glade, and as they passed amongst the trees Friar Tuck's rich, mellow voice burst into song behind them. It gladdened the heart of Allan-a-Dale, in which was no room now for sorrow.

How Maid Marian Entered Hardfast's Castle.

Four days had gone by since the making of the infamous compact between Hardfast and Baron Fitzurse. Slowly and sadly, with melancholy in her eyes, Helen came out from a door of her father's house, and descended a flight of stone steps that led to the grounds. She stood here for a few moments in the warm sunshine, listening to the singing of the birds; and then the thickets to one side of her rustled, and from them stepped two women who carried small harps. They were young and pretty, and gaily attired.

Maid Marian and Alfreda, disguised as Minstrels, "on Robin Hood's Business."

"Be not frightened," the elder woman said quickly to the startled girl. "We mean you no harm. I have brought a message from Allan-a-Dale."

"From—from Allan?" echoed the girl, her cheeks flushing.

"Yes; a message of good cheer. Your lover did wander far into Sherwood Forest, and there fell in with Robin Hood, whose wife I am. His tale moved us all to pity, and put my husband in the mind to help him. And so my servant Alfreda and myself have been sent hither, disguised as minstrels, with words of comfort from Robin Hood and from the youth, and also with a deeper purpose."

"But your husband is a robber and an outlaw," said Helen, in a troubled tone. "I have heard much of his evil deeds."

"There is no evil in them," warmly declared Maid Marian. "He is the best and noblest of men, and it is the fault of the Sheriff of Nottingham, who hates him, that he has been driven from home, and forced to prey on those who can afford to lose. He steals only from the rich."

"'Tis true that I have heard good reports of him as well as ill."

"Good he is, indeed. And better a thousand times than the wicked Baron Fitzurse."

"I doubt it not. So great is my terror of the baron that I cannot sleep at nights. And yet, alas! I am betrothed to him."

"It must go no farther child. Would you marry Allan-a-Dale if it could be so contrived by Robin Hood?"

"Yes, yes, I would!" Helen eagerly exclaimed.

"I could be happy anywhere with Allan, in poverty or in riches. That my heart has told me, since I have been sold to the baron. But how am I to be saved from such a fate? Does it lie in your husband's power?"

"There is nothing he cannot do if he has the will. This matter, however, is one that requires careful planning, and calls for assistance from you. Of that I will speak shortly. Tell me, first, if the day for the wedding has been fixed."

"Yes; it is to be in a week's time, at the church yonder," the girl replied, fear creeping into her eyes as she spoke.

"Much can be accomplished in a week," said Maid Marian. "We must, on some pretext, gain admittance to your dwelling, and be allowed to remain there, so that we can send daily reports to my husband. Will that be difficult?"

"I am afraid it will be."

"Perhaps not, child. Are not guests coming from a distance to attend the wedding?"

"Yes, there will be fully a score; and some are expected to-morrow."

"I judged as much. Surely, then, your father will be in the mind to provide music for those whom he entertains?"

"Ah, I see! It is the custom to have music, yet he has not mentioned it. But it may, indeed, be possible for me to——"

"Be careful," Maid Marian interrupted. "He comes now."

The door above had been opened, and Hardfast had appeared. As fast as he could he hobbled down the steps, his grey hair hanging on his shoulders, and gazed suspiciously at his daughter and the two strangers. But by then Helen had artfully concealed her joyous emotions, and her eyes were as melancholy as they had been before.

"What are you doing here?" her father demanded. "Who are these people?"

"They are wandering minstrels," the girl replied, in an indifferent tone. "They have heard reports of the wedding, and they crave permission to dwell under your roof, and harp for the guests you are to entertain."

"Bid them go about their business!" Hardfast said angrily. "I have no money to waste on such follies! I am a poor man!"

"It will cost you no money," urged Maid Marian, in a whining voice. "Let us play for your guests, and we will be content with food and lodging. Do not refuse, gracious sir. Many miles have we walked, in the hope of this boon from you."

The appeal had touched the miser's weak spot. The thought of getting something for nothing pleased him. His harsh expression melted, and he rubbed his hands.

"That alters matters," he said. "I will bargain with you on those terms. Bite and sup you shall have, and a place to sleep, and naught else. Not a groat, remember. I cannot afford to pay. And now come. I would have you give me a taste of your harping."

The girl's eyes danced, and she smiled over her shoulder at the minstrels as they all ascended the steps, at the heels of Hardfast, who led them to his sitting-room, where he sat down in a great chair.

"Begin!" he said. "If I like not your skill you will go."

Maid Marian had no fear of the test. She and her servant tuned their harps; and so sweetly did they play, such languorous, dreamy music did they evoke from the strings, that presently the old miser's eyes closed, and his head drooped on his breast. He had been lulled to sleep.

"It is well!" whispered Helen. "You have pleased my father, and he will gladly let you remain here until the wedding. Come now with me," she added, as she drew the minstrels to the door, "and I will give you food and drink."

The citadel had been won, and the outlook was promising.

That night Maid Marian and Alfreda again played Hardfast to sleep; and on the following day the servant stole forth to the borders of the forest, and there met by appointment with Little John, to whom she delivered a report, to be conveyed to Robin Hood and Allan-a-Dale. And as the days went by more messages were thus sent, and answers were brought back for Maid Marian's ear.

Robin Hood to the Rescue

The week passed, and there came the day that was to see the consummation of the bargain between Hardfast and Baron Fitzurse. The girl was up with the sun, after a restless night; and ere the time for departure she had opportunity of speech with Maid Marian, who assured her that all would be well, and bade her have no fear. Yet so momentous was the issue, and so elaborate were the preparations that had been made for the ceremony, that Helen could not but feel keenly apprehensive.

"Fitzurse will have his armed retainers," she reflected gloomily, as her servant was dressing her, towards the middle of the morning, "and they may be in such force as to prevent my rescue. Alas! I shall die of horror if I be wedded to that wicked man!"

Very pale and lovely Helen looked in her bridal finery and not feigned was the sadness in her eyes when she set forth for the church. Some of the guests walked in front of her, and some behind; and by her side tottered old Hardfast, chuckling now and again as he thought of the three fat purses of gold that were to be handed to him at the altar as the price of his beautiful daughter. Alfreda witnessed the start of the procession, but not Maid Marian.

A short time before she had furtively left the house and gone to keep an appointment, of which word had been sent to her by her husband on the previous day. Having gone for a quarter of a mile beyond the miser's estate, she stopped by a great tree that marked the trysting-place, and strained her ears. All was quiet, and a look of anxiety grew in her eyes as she continued to listen.

"There should be some sound of them by now," she said to herself. "I pray they may not be late!"

At an early hour of the morning, while yet the sun was below the horizon, Robin Hood and his band had set forth from their encampment, armed for such resistance as they might encounter. For mile after mile they had traversed the sylvan solitude, heedless of the deer that crossed their course. They had allowed themselves plenty of time; but one vexatious delay they met with, and it retarded them so much that they were not a little uneasy when at length they joined Maid Marian, who had been waiting for a considerable interval. She, too was uneasy; but her first thought was for her husband, from whom she had been separated for a week.

She flew to his arms, and was out of them the next instant.

"I have been here this long while!" she said. "What has kept you?"

"The blame lies with our jolly fat monk—greedy glutton that he is!" Robin Hood angrily replied, "'Ere daybreak, while the rest of us were yet abed, he did quietly rise and stew a mess of eels and eat them every one. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that his wind failed him yonder in the forest."

"He dropped down, grunting like a pig," put in Will Scarlett. "We dared not leave him, since he was needed to wed the lovers. So we had to wait until he was recovered."

"'Twas not the eels," vowed Friar Tuck. "It was an affection of the heart. Methinks I feel it on me again, but if any of you has in his leather-bottle a stoup of wine it will cure me of——"

"I'll cure you with a whack of my staff," interrupted Robin Hood, "if the indisposition returns. I fear we are late, Marian," he added. "Think you so?"

"I trust not," his wife replied. "Yet by now the procession may have reached the church."

"Have we far to go?"

"It is a fair stretch, Robin. Not another moment may we tarry here."

"Come, let us hasten," urged Allan-a-Dale, who was haggard with anxiety. "I am in a fever of suspense lest my sweetheart be married to that old villain, and so lost to me for ever."

In a trice the band were in motion, and following at the heels of Maid Marian, who held up her skirt that she might travel the faster. Fleetly she led the way from the borders of the forest to a footpath, and along that for some hundreds of yards, beneath the overarching boughs of trees, to a narrow passage that formed a rear entrance of the church. Into this she glided noiselessly, with a finger to her lips. She paused in the shadow of a pillar, and drew a quick breath as she turned to her husband.

"Look!" she said, in a whisper. "We are none too soon!"

"Nay; that we are not!" murmured Robin Hood, as he reached for the horn that hung at his side. "By my halidom we are but just in time to save the girl!"

At the Church

Helen's spirits had sunk lower and lower during the walk to the ancient Saxon church in the wood, where had previously arrived Baron Fitzurse's friends and retainers. The baron was with them, most gorgeously attired, and with the three purses of gold in his belt. On stiff limbs he strutted forward, wincing at the painful effort it cost him to hold himself erect. No spark of pity had he for the girl he had bought, though he could read in her eyes the repulsion she felt for him. Having pressed her fingers to his withered lips, he nodded to Hardfast, whose covetous gaze was on the gold. He trembled at the sight of it.

"Let me have it now," he begged. "I have kept the bargain. The maid is as good as yours."

"Take it, then," mumbled Fitzurse, who was not in the least afraid of losing his bride.

The silken purses were handed to the old miser, and he hurriedly thrust them into the folds of his doublet, apprehensive of being robbed even in such company. The priest advanced to the altar, and Helen and the decrepit nobleman took their places in front of him, standing side by side. In the foreground, filling a portion of the sacred edifice, were the various guests and baron's men-at-arms.

The poor girl's dread had increased, and her hopes were at a low ebb. The monotonous voice of the priest chilled her blood, though she was scarcely aware of what he was saying. She shuddered as the baron jostled her elbow. Her cheeks were ghastly pale, and there was a wild look in her eyes. Furtively she peered here and there, and strained her ears to catch any sound which might signify that her rescuers were approaching. Her heart fluttered like that of a frightened bird, and she breathed fast and deep.

"They will not come," she thought. "Robin Hood has failed me, and I shall be lost to Allan. Alas! what a fate is mine! Woe is this day!"

The ceremony was nearly over, and Helen was now in utter despair. She had not the strength to move, else she would have fled from the old dotard by her side. A deathly faintness crept upon her, and she was on the point of swooning from sheer horror when, just as the final words were about to be pronounced, there rang out the loud blast of a horn, startling the priest to silence. And with that the merry outlaws of Sherwood Forest dashed forward from the rear of the church, led by Robin Hood.

"Enough of this!" he cried. "I forbid the marriage! May shall not wed with December!"

Staggering was the surprise, and thrilling was the scene that followed. Shouts and yells and lusty cheers and the screaming of frightened women, blended with the clash of steel, and the rattle of staves on staves. A fight was waged, sharp and desperate. Meanwhile, Allan-a-Dale had gained the side of the half-dazed girl, and thrown his arm around her waist. And thus he stood, shielding her, grasping in his other hand a sword with which he menaced Hardfast and the baron, and kept them from him, while, the combatants surged to and fro.

"Have at them!" the voice of Robin Hood rang clear. "Make short work of the knaves!"

The battle was soon over, and without bloodshed, though there were cracked heads and bruised limbs. Only a few of the wedding-guests were armed, and the old Norman's retainers, valiant though they were, were not in sufficient strength to cope with the outlaws. When some of them had been stunned the rest lost heart, and were driven like sheep into a corner, where half a dozen of their assailants held them at bay with drawn crossbows.

Gradually the tumult subsided. The guests, to whom the priest had fled, were huddled apart from the men-at-arms; and a battery of eyes, staring as much in curiosity as in fear, were bent on the handsome fair-haired man whom all had by now realised to be the famous robber of Sherwood Forest. Helen had recovered from her faintness, and was gazing fondly into the face of Allan-a-Dale, who had dropped his sword, and was scarcely conscious of anything, save the dear burden that was in his arms. Robin Hood joined them, and called the monk to him. And then, with an imperative gesture, he bade Baron Fitzurse and the old miser come forward. They advanced reluctantly, their limbs trembling beneath them.

"I mean you no harm," Robin Hood said to them, with a smile of amusement. "I would have you take the places of honour at this ceremony, which is more to my taste than the one you would have had performed. And now to your business, good Tuck," he added. "Mate these young people by the rites of the Church, and be quick about it."

"Ay, it shall be speedy shrift with them," replied Friar Tuck. "Right willingly will I make them one, since they are indeed fitted for each other."

He composed his fat and jolly features to something like gravity, and standing by the altar with his arms raised, he began to repeat the marriage-service.

No one dared interfere. Hardfast and the wicked baron could only fume and rage, and utter under their breath, dreadful imprecations, for which the girl cared not a jot.

"I pronounce you man and wife!" the friar concluded.

The ceremony was over. Robin Hood kissed the blushing bride, and put her into Allan-a-Dale's arms again. And then he lifted his cap and waved it at his men, who gave three rounds of cheers that fairly shook the roof.

"This is a deed beyond all bounds!" spluttered Fitzurse when the applause had died away. "If there is any law left in the land you shall be punished as you deserve! I'll appeal to the King, and have him send soldiers to put you to the sword! I'll—I'll——" He shook his fist in impotent fury, and turned to the miser. "I paid you too soon!" he cried. "The bargain has not been kept. I have been robbed of the maid, and I will have my money back!"

"Nay, that you will not!" protested Hardfast. "I brought the girl to the altar, as I was pledged to do. It is not her fault, nor is it mine, that she hath been wedded to another."

"The blame lies on my shoulders, and gladly will I bear it," declared Robin Hood. "And as for the money——" laughing, he snatched at the old miser's doublet, and plucked from it the three silken purses filled with gold. "Take them," he said, as he thrust them into Allan-a-Dale's hands. "'Tis your wife's dowry, with the good wishes of Baron Fitzurse. I give it into your charge."

"Oh, my money," shrieked Hardfast—"my precious money! Rob me not of it! Let me have it!"

He whined and begged, raved and implored. He. grovelled on his knees, and plucked wildly at his hair, and clasped his withered hands in mute appeal. But Robin Hood was not to be moved. He spurned the old rogue, and, putting his horn to his lips, he blew a blast that was the signal for departure. They left by the rear of the church, as they had come; First, Maid Marian with Helen, followed by Allan-a-Dale and the monk; and then the men in Lincoln green, and lastly, Robin, who stopped at the exit to look back and to make a gallant and mocking bow to the company he was leaving behind him.

"If you would return my visit," he called to them, "you will find me at home in the greenwood."

The next instant he was gone, and there was scurrying here and there, and a clamour of voices, and a rush of the men-at-arms to carry the news to the Sheriff of Nottingham, while Baron Fitzurse tottered about like a madman, and Hardfast loudly bewailed the loss of his gold.

Nothing could be done. Pursuit would have been useless. Even Lanfrey Gaveston, when he was informed of the daring deed, had no thought of setting forth with his retainers, though he gnashed his teeth and flew into such a passion that none dared venture near him the rest of the day. Meanwhile, Robin Hood and his band had arrived at their retreat in the depths of Sherwood Forest, where that night, after Allan-a-Dale had sworn allegiance to the outlaws, was held the feast in celebration of his marriage to the beautiful girl he loved. Until near to morning the revel was merrily kept up, and there was such flow of golden wine and such abundance of rich meats, that for once Friar Tuck, was fain to cease from eating and drinking. When the sun rose, he lay snoring on his back beneath a tree, with an empty flagon clutched in one hand and a picked bone in the other, while a bright-eyed squirrel peeped curiously down at him from a bough. But long ere then Allan-a-Dale and his bride had retired to their rest, happy and contented. By brave Robin Hood had they come to their happiness.

The Feast in the Forest in Celebration of Allan-a-Dale's Marriage to Helen

PART 3

Lanfrey Gaveston forms a Plot for the Capture of Robin Hood

A month had gone by since the daughter of Hardfast had been snatched from the altar, and day by day the Sheriff of Nottingham's hatred of Robin Hood had so swelled and grown, had been so fed by further reports of travellers robbed in the forest, that it was a consuming flame which impaired his appetite, and held him often awake at night, and kept him ever in a savage mood. Yet again had he written to the King for a force of soldiers who should advance into the forest from all sides, but what answer he had received was merely a curt intimation that the matter would in due course have Royal attention, which was not to be regarded as promising.

The morning sun shone into the panelled room, hung with arms and tapestries, where Lanfrey Gaveston was pacing the floor in a temper that had been aggravated by news of yet another traveller relieved of a fat purse in the greenwood, and ducked in a pond. To and fro he strode, now shaking his fist, and now striking his brow, while his eyes blazed with wrath.

"It is beyond all endurance," he said to himself aloud. "My impatience is at such a heat that it will drive me into a fever, and I shall die of it. By the beard of Saladin, never has man of authority been so flouted as I have been by Robin Hood. He laughs at law, and mocks the power of his Sovereign, and exults in his evil deeds. For none in Sherwood is safe, yet I must sit here under my roof with tied hands, helpless to lay the knave by the heels. I am in the mind to go in person to his Majesty and make complaint. He might then give ear to me, and take such action as I desire. Certain it is that these doings must end. But how so? Would it be possible, I wonder, to accomplish by craft what cannot be done by force? In very truth, I would give gold in plenty, even to the half of what I possess, if I could thrust the varlet into the black dungeon that is beneath the floor of this very——"

The sheriff gave a start, and left the sentence unfinished. A vague idea had occurred to him. He stood for a little time in deep thought, slowly stroking his chin. And at length, with a sinister smile on his lips, he passed from the room and out of the house to the grounds that surrounded it. His glance swept turf and shrubbery, and rested on one of his retainers, whom he summoned to him by a wave of his arm. The man approached, a strapping fellow, who was the officer of the guard.

"What is my lord sheriff's bidding?" he asked.

"I would take council with you," Lanfrey Gaveston replied. "Two heads are better than one, and there has entered into mine a plan by which that cunning rogue Hood may fall into my clutches."

"Cunning indeed would such a plan have to be, declared Piers Bolingbroke, shaking his head doubtfully.

"And cunning it is, in very truth."

"I cannot conceive how the fellow may be trapped. Yet your wits may be sharper than mine. But what would you put in execution?"

"Hark you, Bolingbroke, and I will make it clear. I propose to have shortly in these grounds an archery tournament. The news of it will be spread far and wide by proclamations, which will state that to the winner will be given a golden chain as a prize!"

"I see not your meaning," muttered Piers Bolingbroke.

"Then a numskull thou art, with a head of wood, said the sheriff. "Does sense stir in it when I tell you that I will have several of these proclamations hung from the trees in Sherwood Forest?"

"And what of it, my liege lord?"

"A plague on you! Know you not that Robin Hood hath often made the boast that there is no one who can excel him in archery?"

"Ay I have so heard, I remember."

"Is it not more than likely, then, that from sheer vanity and bravado he will in some form disguise himself, and come to the tournament with design to win the prize?

"Be my halidom, I feel that you right!" exclaimed the man-at-arms. "Ay, almost surely will the knave be tempted by the offer, and so he may fall into our hands!"

"Of a verity he will, should he come," vowed Lanfrey Gaveston. "And scarcely do I doubt that he will. Shrewd may be his disguise, yet not that, nor any such false name as he may give, shall deceive me. None who would seek to enter the lists shall escape close observation. Keen will be my eyes on that occasion, and if I should perceive one who would appear to be that daring and insolent robber who has so long, defied the—" Excitement and rage choked his voice. He ground his teeth, and clenched his hands until the nails bit into the flesh. "It is well," he added, clapping Piers Bolingbroke on the shoulder. "I have given my command, so go now about your business. The contest will be on next Wednesday, which is a week from to-day. Do for me the writing of the proclamation, and to see to the distribution of them. And fail not to have half-a-dozen at the least put up in the forest, along such roads as travellers do pass by."

"My liege lord shall be trustily obeyed," declared the man-at-arms. "The trap shall duly be set!"

And with that he strode off towards the guard-house, while the sheriff walked slowly back with the hope of revenge burning like a fever in his heart.

Robin Hood Decides to go to the Tournament

Little John had gone forth on the chase that morning, as the larder was running low; but it was no burden of venison that he bore when he broke from cover late in the afternoon, and came across the glade with weary steps. Robin Hood rose from the grass, where he had been taking his ease with many of the band around him.

"What has the fellow got?" he asked, in a puzzled tone.

"'Tis neither flesh nor fowl," replied Friar Tuck. "And yet sorely do we need meat!"

"From the look of the thing," said Allan-a-Dale, "it might be a King's proclamation!"

As Little John approached the group it was seen that his expression was sour, and that he had under his arm a sheet of stiff parchment that was roughly framed.

"Naught do I bring for the stomach," he grumbled. "The red-deer have been frightened to far parts of the forest, and not one did I even glimpse. But as I was returning I stumbled by chance upon this, hanging from a tree at the edge of a road that runs from Nottingham. And hither I fetched it on an impulse!"

With that he held the parchment up to view, and his companions crowded forward to read what was written on it.

One or two of the women laughed, and vowed that Little John should have spared himself the trouble of carrying so worthless a burden. Robin Hood also laughed,, but it was not in jest.

"The signature of my enemy, the Sheriff of Nottingham!" he murmured. "He doth proclaim an archery tournament to be given in the grounds of his dwelling, and a prize of a golden chain to the winner. This does interest me much. To-day is Saturday, and the contest is to be on Wednesday next. I am in the mind to be of those who will compete for the prize!"

"You speak not in earnest, surely?" said Maid Marian, with an anxious look.

"Never more so, sweet mistress," her husband replied. "They are not idle words. I may say without boasting that there is not in England a man who can excel me in skill with the bow. The fancy has taken me to wear around my neck this chain of gold which Lanfrey Gaveston has offered, so I shall go to his castle on the appointed day, and I will wager a purse of gold against a groat that I do carry off the prize. I shall enter the lists in disguise, and in a name that is known to none!"

"Nay, put aside this folly," begged Maid Marian. "It may cost you your freedom. I greatly fear that you will come not back!"

"Be not so rash, master," urged Dickon, the chief's faithful servant. "I, too, have fears for your safety."

"It would, indeed, be a rash venture," protested Will Scarlet. "Why take such a risk for a paltry chain?"

"He will court certain disaster, to my mind," said Little John. "I feel that the sheriff, knowing our leader to be proud of his skill in archery, has devised the tournament as a trap for him. Else why would the proclamation be hung so far in the greenwood?"

Others spoke in the same strain. Not one, in fact, but tried to dissuade Robin Hood. It was breath wasted on him, however. He listened to what they had to say, and laughed lightly when they had finished.

"It would show a cowardly spirit if I were to hold aloof," he declared. "And why should I? Whether or not Lanfrey Gaveston has planned the contest as a trap that I am to be lured into, be assured that my disguise will protect me.

The Mysterious Archer

Simon Lancaster's features were bronzed and weather-beaten, and at his side was a leather-wallet such as was carried in those days by vagrants who tramped the highways of England. He was led at once to the sheriff, who, for a space scrutinised him keenly and in silence. The archery tournament was now almost ready to commence.

"So you would compete for the prize," he said at length.

"Ay, such is my purpose," the stranger replied.

"I know you not. Who are you?"

"My name is Simon Lancaster, and I am a soldier by profession. I have fought in the Holy Land with the Crusaders, and have slain many Saracens with my bow. In these times of peace I have naught to do but roam the country, living as best I can. And thus it befell that I saw your proclamation, and did come hither in the hope of winning the chain of gold, since I have some skill in archery."

"It is well, my good fellow. You shall take your chance with the others."

"I thank you, my lord."

And with that Simon Lancaster turned away, walking slowly and gravely as if trouble weighed on his mind. Those of the competitors who were standing near were inclined to laugh at him, judging that he would prove to be no formidable opponent. As for the sheriff's men-at-arms, not to one of them did it occur that this shabby fellow might be the famous robber of Sherwood Forest in disguise. And farthest than any from suspicion, was Lanfrey Gaveston, who was in moody spirits. His expectations had been dwindling, and he had about come to the conclusion that his trap would be a failure.

"By the mass, I fear me I shall have my trouble for nothing," he said in a sour tone to Piers Bolingbroke, "and shall be put to the expense of a gold-chain for which here will be no return. 'Tis certain that the knave Hood is not yet present at the gathering, and therefore, he is not likely to come. He is afraid. Bold though he is in the forest, he dares not to venture near my dwelling. But the hour has arrived," he added: "There will be no more to enter the lists, so now let the sport begin, and I will seek what solace I can from watching it."

There was a stir and a spreading air of expectation, as the sheriff, in his gorgeous robes of office, strode with pompous state to the big chair that had been placed for him in a commanding position. Here he seated himself, and to right and left of him assembled his soldiers, and the competitors, and a number of persons of distinction, who had been invited to witness the tournament. In front of them was a stretch of level sward, and on the farther side of it the target had been erected. A pretty picture it all was, with the sun shining on the open, and the foliage of the trees drooping over the spectators in their bright-coloured garments.

A herald, standing by the side of Lanfrey Gaveston, called the name of Ralph de Montfort; and there stepped to. the front a sturdy, bearded man, a squire of the neighbourhood who was noted for his skill with the bow. Right well did he shoot with the three arrows that were allowed to him, planting one in the bullseye, and the other two within a couple of inches of the first. There were murmurs of approval as he gave way to the second competitor, who showed rather less skill.

So it went on for a time, man after man seeking to win the prize, while an attendant plucked the arrows from the target."

"An hour had elapsed, and a knight in black was so far to be regarded as the winner, since he had shot two arrows into the very centre of the target, and a third into the next ring. The herald glanced at his written list, on which remained but one name that had not been called.

"It is the turn of Simon Lancaster," he announced.

"The bronzed and shabby soldier, who had been quietly looking on, came to the edge of the sward and saluted the sheriff. Somebody made a low jest at his patched eye, and the knight in black, who counted the golden chain to be as good as his, smiled conplacently. Yet there was something in Simon Lancaster's bearing that impelled respect. Every gaze was fixed upon him, and every eye followed the fleet course of his first arrow as he loosed his bow.

Simon Lancaster's Story

Straight and true to the centre of the target flew Robin Hood's arrow.

"'Tis not at all bad," commented Piers Bolingbroke.

Again the bow was curved, and a second feathered shaft went flashing to the target, and struck exactly where the first was lodged.

"By my halidom!" ejaculated the sheriff.

There was tense, hushed silence now. The soldier his features void of emotion, was once more drawing his bow The cord twanged, and the arrow sped so unerringly that it buried itself within a fraction of an inch of the other two The three shafts had been planted together in the middle of the bullseye, and it was such a feat as none had ever witnessed before.

"Lancaster, wins!" cried a score of voices. Lancaster wins!"

There was cheering and shouting, and clapping of hands; and the knight in black, to his credit, applauded as loudly as did any. But when the tumult had faded there was a plain look of suspicion on Lanfrey Gaveston's face. He got up from his chair, and paced to and fro, his eyes bent searchingly on the successful competitor.

"By the rood, I am sorely puzzled, he said in a low tone to Piers Bolingbroke. I should not have believed that there was one in the length and breadth of the land, save Robin Hood, who could handle the bow as this fellow has done."

The words reached Simon Lancaster's ears. For an instant a shade of alarm crossed his countenance, and then he stepped forward to the sheriff, and touched his shabby hat.

"It may please you, my lord," he said, "to hear how my skill did once save my life."

"And how was that?" Lanfrey Gaveston coldly asked.

"It was in the Holy Land," was the reply. "I had been captured by the Saracens, and taken before their great chief Saladin, who had ordered my head to be struck off. But after he had thus spoken he learned that I had slain six of his men in battle with my arrows, and so, being in a light mood, he pointed to five birds that were winging overhead, and vowed that if I could kill them all I should be set free.

"And you did it?"

"Ay my lord. All five of the birds did I bring to earth, and they fell at spaces of three yards apart. And so pleased was Saladin that he gave me food and drink, and sent me back to the camp of the Crusaders.

All had been listening to this marvellous tale, and there were none who doubted it, after what they had seen done with their own eyes. The sheriff's suspicions had been banished, and his face lit up with admiration.

"An archer of rare skill thou art indeed," he declared. "It has been a pleasure to me to witness thy feat. You have won the prize, my good fellow, and right well do you deserve it."

- And with that he took the golden chain from the herald and hung it about the neck of Simon Lancaster, who thanked him warmly for the honour. He then slung his bow on his back, and tightened the straps of his quiver.

"If you please, my lord sheriff, I will now depart, he said "I go my way towards London town, and I would cover some miles ere I lie me down to sleep at nightfall.

But he was not suffered to go without an additional honour. There was more applause, and Piers Bolingbroke and others of the men-at-arms laid hands on Simon Lancaster, and hoisted him to their shoulders. And thus they bore him, followed by a cheering throng, beyond the castle grounds, and a space farther to the borders of the forest, where they put him on his feet and wished him a safe journey. Here they left him, but as they were retracing their steps they were checked by a peal of laughter. They turned to stare at the soldier, who had paused at the edge of the greenwood. Loud he laughed for a moment, and then he whipped off his hat and plucked the patch from his eye.

Robin Hood as the Shabby Soldier

"Stupid varlets that you are!" he cried. "Do you know me now? Ay, I perceive that you do. Cunning your master may be, yet. I have bearded him in his very home! Tell him that Robin Hood has enjoyed his visit, and that he thanks him for the golden chain, which he will keep always in memory of this day. And if he chooses to return my visit, he shall have such hospitality as he has extended to me. And so farewell!"

Again the merry outlaw laughed, then took to his heels and vanished in the thickets. To give chase to him would have been useless, as the men-at-arms knew. Having looked at one another in stupefaction for a moment, they ran back with all speed to the scene of the tournament, where the sheriff, was conversing with his guests. And as he listened to the tale that Piers Bolingbroke poured excitedly into his ears, the veins on his forehead stood out like cords, and his eyes-flamed like coals of fire. He was at first speechless with rage and chagrin. He danced like a madman, tearing at his hair, and fairly foaming at the mouth.

"A murrain on you, dolts!" he spluttered. "Did I not bid you inquire closely into all who entered the lists? So Simon Lancaster was that knave, Robin Hood! He has defied and derided me under my very nose, and made me look a sorry figure. He walked into my trap, and he has walked out again. And he has carried off my golden chain to flaunt in the faces of his fellow-rogues! My blood boils at the thought! I fear I shall die of the rage he hath caused me. May the powers of evil lay hold of the presumptuous cur! May his body shrivel and his bones rot, and his——"

Lanfrey Gaveston paused abruptly. He drew a deep breath, and struck his hand to his brow. "By my halidom, it may be possible for us to intercept the varlet!" he cried. "He will go by the usual way towards the heart of the forest, and there is a short cut we may take by crossing the hill. Ay there is a chance! Come, Bolingbroke! Come, all of you! Be quick! Let us hasten! If so be as we can catch the knave, you shall have feast this night as you have never feasted before!"

As the sheriff spoke he flung off his robe of office and whipped his blade from its scabbard. And away he went as fast as he could tear, with his men-at-arms trailing after him.

The Capture of Robin Hood

Shrewd though Robin Hood was, he had in this instance made a mistake. It did not occur to him that he had been imprudent in revealing his identity so soon, nor did it enter his head that he might be intercepted. He was in the highest spirits. Now whistling, and now singing a stave of a song, he went on his way at none too brisk a pace. And now and again he chuckled, and held his sides, as he thought of the rare sport he had had, and pictured the rage the Sheriff of Nottingham must be in.

"Truly a merry time I have had," he said to himself. "I shall enjoy the telling of it to my comrades to-night."

When he had put a mile behind him, and was drawing near to the spot where he expected to find his faithful servant Dickon waiting for him, the rough path that he was following, skirted the base of a low hill. And here it was that the trap was sprung suddenly upon him. He stopped short, staring in consternation, as Lanfrey Gaveston and his soldiers rose from the thickets to right and left of him. He had no chance to realise his danger, or to draw a weapon. His enemies closed around him, and in a trice he was in a whirl of conflict.

Robin Hood is Captured

"By the mass, thou art undone this time!" cried the sheriff, who was holding aloof from the fight. "'Tis useless to resist! My dungeon yawns for you, knave!"

And so it was to be, in spite of brave Robin Hood's valour and strength. The famous robber had been caught at last, and great was Lanfrey Gaveston's joy.

The sound of the brawl had drawn Dickon, and from behind a tree he had witnessed the capture of his master. It was not from cowardice that he remained in hiding. Knowing that he could render no assistance, and that it would be better for him to keep his freedom, he waited until the sheriff and his men had departed with their prisoner. And then, with a heavy heart, he set off through the forest,"

"It is sad news that I must tell," he reflected. "Yet my comrades will not be content to let the matter rest. Action they will take, and that promptly."

As for Robin Hood, his stout courage did not fail him, though he was aware that he was in the power of a bitter and relentless foe. Hope of rescue he clung to, not doubting that his band would soon learn of his mishap, and that they would make every effort to set him free. He blamed himself for carelessness, however, and keen was his humiliation as he was led in fetters through a jeering crowd in the castle grounds, and thence into the spacious dwelling where he was held for a little time in the dining-chamber while a slab of stone was raised on one end from the floor, disclosing to view a square opening. Into this the captive was lowered by a rope, and let down to the far bottom of a dungeon that was damp and slimy, and reeked of evil smells.

From above Lanfrey Gaveston leered horribly at him, grasping in one hand a lighted candle. All the venom of his nature found play in words. He shook his fist and gritted his teeth, and poured forth abuse in language of the vilest.

"You scum of the earth!" he went on. "Knave and boaster! What think you of yourself now? I have crushed your pride, and I'll have you whining for mercy ere long. But none you'll get from me! You shall lie where you are as long as it suits my pleasure, with rats for company, and mouldy bread to eat, and putrid water to drink. And when there is scarcely breath in your body, I'll haul you forth, and hang you from a gallows before the eyes of all the people of Nottingham! By the mass, I swear it!

Thus the sheriff continued, growing more and more abusive until his voice had sunk to a croak. And then he dropped the slab of stone to its place, and rose to his feet. He strode to and fro in a fever of elation, wagging his head at his men-at-arms.

"This is a day to be remembered," he declared. "In very truth it was an inspiration that had me proclaim the archery tournament. Go forth now to the town, and make it known that Robin Hood lies in my dungeon. And when the day is over assemble here for the feast that I did promise. I will keep my word, cost what it may. Nobly you shall eat and drink in celebration of this event, which has made my heart to rejoice."

How the Band Received the News of their Leader's Capture

At a late hour that night, while Lanfrey Gaveston and his retainers were feasting right royally in the castle, and shouting ribald jests to Robin Hood who lay beneath them, Dickon trudged slowly and wearily into the camp in the depths of Sherwood Forest. Not one of the band had gone to bed. Anxiety and suspense had kept them up and awake and when they saw the servant to be alone, by the bright flare of the full moon that was swimming in a cloudless sky, they knew that their worst apprehensions were to be realised! They flocked around Dickon, who told his story in a few words.

"Alas he is taken!" he blurted out. "They have caught my beloved master! I know not how it happened, but by some means his identity must have been learned after the tournament was over, and he had departed. Be that as it may, he had got almost to the spot where I was to meet him when he fell into a trap set by the sheriff and his men. A lusty fight he made in truth. But against such odds he had no chance. They fell upon him, and bound him, and carried him off. And he now lies in Lanfrey Gaveston's dungeon, which must be a terrible place indeed from what I have heard of it."

Almost in silence were the tidings at first received. There was only a subdued murmur of voices, so startled were the outlaws by the fate of their leader. And as they were shaking their heads, and glancing at one another, the stupefaction that had fallen upon Maid Marian found vent in a burst of tears. Her distress was pitiful. She ran wildly to and fro, wringing her hands.

"Oh, my Robin!" she sobbed. "My dear Robin. I truly feared this evil. I warned him, and pleaded with him, trusting that my love would keep him from folly. Yet he would not heed. Straight he went to the tournament, which was nought but a trap. And now he is in the power of the wicked sheriff, who may put him to death. My heart is breaking. I shall pine and die of grief unless——"

She darted to the servant and shook him by the arm.

"A coward you are!" she raved. "How could you lurk in hiding, and lift no hand to help your master? For shame! I wonder you dare show your face here!"

"Nay, I am no coward!" protested Dickon. "Gladly would I have joined in the fight had it been of advantage to do so. But I, too, should have been caught, and I judged it wiser to return right speedily with the news."

"It was for the best, I doubt not. I wronged you, good lad. I crave pardon for my hasty words."

"They are forgotten, mistress. No ill-feeling have I."

The servant's explanation was approved by all. Maid Marian fell to weeping more violently, and while Helen and Alfreda were trying to comfort her there rang an angry clamour that awoke the birds in their nests and startled the deer in distant coverts. The band had been stirred to hot wrath, and were ripe for any venture, hazardous though it might be.

"Listen, comrades!" beseeched Allan-a-Dale, when the tumult had partly subsided. "There is no man of you so deep in Robin Hood's debt as am I. But for his kindness I should be lonely and broken hearted, and my sweet wife would be wedded to the Baron Fitzurse. I declare, therefore, that he shall be set at liberty if I have to storm the castle single-handed!"

"You will lack not for followers!" vowed Little John. "I do offer for the same service!!"

"And I, too!" spoke up Will Scarlett. "I swear by the rood that not for another night shall our brave Robin lie in the sheriff's dark dungeon!"

They were all of the same mind, eager for the fray. Even Friar Tuck was roused to a heat of passion.

"You will go not without me!" he declared, as he tucked his gown to his knees and tightened it at the waist. "I am by trade a man of peace and religion, yet in this case I will be a man of battle. Give me quarterstaff and crossbow, I pray you, and I will show you that I can use them well. I will eat not, nor will I taste of wine, till Robin be freed. To the fight, comrades! To the rescue of our leader!"

"To the rescue!" one and all shouted. "To the rescue of Robin Hood!"

Maid Marian had been consoled as she listened. Hope shone in her eyes, though tears were still streaming down her cheeks.

"Loyal friends my husband has indeed!" she cried, stretching out her arms. "Save him from his cruel enemy! Bring him back to me! Go to the rescue, and my blessing go with you! Let no peril, no force of numbers, keep you from the dungeon where my dear Robin lies in misery.! You have cheered my sad heart, and with fortitude I will await your return, believing that you will not fail!"

"That we shall not, be assured!" replied Allan-a-Dale.

There was no thought of failure, such was the spirit of the band. They knew that it would be a vastly different affair from anything they had heretofore undertaken, yet they shrank not from it, nor would they brook any delay. Hastily they made their preparations, and in half an hour, before any glimmer of dawn had appeared, they set forth with confidence towards the town of Nottingham. And at their head marched Allan-a-Dale, eager for this opportunity of requiting the debt he owed to Robin Hood. They melted into the forest, leaving only the women behind them in the camp.

PART FOUR

Robin is Liberated

There were two things that were strongly in favour of the outlaws, and they had given consideration to the one, which was that Lanfrey Gaveston's castle lay a space beyond the town, and in the direction of the greenwood, so that it could be approached without attracting observation. As for the other, the sheriff and his retainers had so heavily gorged themselves with meat and drink at the night's banquet that in the early dawn they had succumbed, and had fallen from their chairs to the floor. And there they were still sprawled in a drunken sleep, snoring amidst a litter of wine-cups, and flagons, and scraps of food, when the invaders appeared in the grounds towards the hour of eleven o'clock in the morning.

The first intimation of danger was a trumpet-blast, that was heard by the captive lying awake in his dungeon, and caused some of the sleepers above to stir and mutter. And next there burst into the room, in hot haste, a servant, who was in such a state of fright and. agitation that at first he could only bawl incoherently. So lusty an alarm did he raise, however, that the drink-sodden men-at-arms scrambled, sober, to their feet. And Lanfrey Gaveston, rising with them, dropped a rough hand on the bellowing man's shoulder.

"What ails thee, varlet?" he demanded. "Find tongue, and be quick about it! Is there a fire in the place?"

"Nay, master; it is worse!" gasped the servant. "The outlaws of Sherwood Forest are upon us! They have come to rescue their leader!"

"It is impossible, you fool! Tell me not such a wild tale!"

"Nay, it is the truth! There are many of them, and they are garbed in Lincoln green!"

The sheriff was still incredulous. He could not believe such a thing. He sped to the window-slit, however, and stood there for a moment staring in consternation, and rubbing his eye's as if he doubted if he were yet fully awake.

"By my halidom, it is indeed the truth!" he cried, as he spun round and snatched a weapon from the wall. "Robin Hood's band are here in force, on my own ground! They are advancing over the open, with plain intent to attack! Never, I do vow, have I known insolence to be carried so far! But they shall rue their presumption! Come, my trusty men, let us have at these rogues, and send them to join their leader! Thus will Sherwood be rid of a pest!"

The retainers were so startled by the news that they lost their wits, and were nearly thrown into a panic. They ran to and fro in confusion, stumbling over chairs, and seeking for their scattered weapons. There was some delay before they were finally routed out of the chamber by Lanfrey Gaveston, and by then the band of outlaws had got across the open sward, and were assaulting the big door that was the main entrance to the castle.

Jutting angles of the wall to right and left afforded them some protection and while arrows whizzed about them, doing little or no harm, they uprooted several massive posts, and took to using these as battering-rams.

"Now, strike well and lustily!" bade Allan-a-Dale, who was the most energetic of all. "Strike for Robin Hood! Let nothing daunt you! Give these villains a lesson which will be a warning to them in the future! Strike! Strike!"

It was smashing work, and speedy. In such mood were the forest rovers that if half of their number had been slain the rest would have fought on with undampened ardour.

Amidst a shrill and deafening clamour, the heavy posts were sent crashing against the door, harder and harder, faster and faster, until the timbers bulged apart and the nails started from the hinges.

This progress being observed from within, the sheriff called to him his men from loopholes and window-slits, and mustered them in the big hall, where they huddled around him like scared sheep.

"The knaves will soon be upon us if we wait!" he Cried. "It were better to vanquish them in the open, so let us sally forth with stout hearts! I shall lead, and if any one of you skulk behind I'll hang him from a gallows-tree! A blast from my horn will be the signal, and as soon as you hear it——"

But no chance did Lanfrey Gaveston have to blow his horn, for even as he spoke the shattered door collapsed under the storm of blows, and fell with a shuddering crash. And in a trice Allan-a-Dale and his gallant followers were over the debris and charging against the sheriff and his retainers, who were taken by surprise.

Their resistance was stubborn, however, and for some little time there was waged in the hall a most desperate battle. But the invaders gained ground inch by inch, and in the end they drove the enemy before them into the great dining-chamber, where another desperate struggle ensued.

"Rally, men — rally!" Lanfrey Gaveston shouted in a rage. Will you be put to shame by these varlets?"

A quarterstaff rapped him on the skull, and he pitched to the floor. His men-at-arms now lost heart. Some of them had been knocked down and stunned, and the others suddenly yielded their arms. The fight was over, and meanwhile the sheriff had come to his senses, and was trying to rise. Little John and Will Scarlett pounced upon him, and while they bound his wrists Friar Tuck sat upon his stomach and quaffed from a flagon in which was a measure of wine, left from the feast.

"Good stuff this in, indeed," he declared, smacking his lips, "and better than we drink in the forest!"

"'Tis no time for guzzling, fat monk!" cried Allan-a-Dale.

With a push he sent friar and flagon flying, and then he jerked Lanfrey Gaveston to his feet, and pinned him by the throat against the wall, and fiercely bade him disclose where Robin Hood was to be found.

"You need not seek for him here!" panted the sheriff. "He is a prisoner yonder in Nottingham Gaol. And if you are in the mind to storm that, go and try it."

"Liar thou art!" said Allan-a-Dale. "Our leader is in this castle, to a certainty! Have out with the truth, and be quick about it!"

But Lanfrey Gaveston repeated his assertion, and, for fear of his displeasure, his men vowed the same when they were questioned.

The outlaws were not convinced, however. They began to search, and as they were thus engaged in the dining-chamber, one of them perceived the massive block of stone, that was a part of the floor. It was lifted on end by means of a ring, and from the black hole beneath it a husky voice rose in appeal.

"'Tis Robin!" exclaimed Little John. "We have found him!"

The rope was fixed to a hook at the side of the opening, and the other end of it was still noosed under Robin Hood's shoulders. So he was speedily drawn up from the dungeon, where he had been for less than the space of a day, and was thus hardly any the worse for his confinement.

But hot was his wrath at the indignity he had suffered; and when his delighted comrades had severed the cords that bound his limbs, and he had given them greeting, he walked unsteadily over to the sheriff and shook his fist under his nose.

"Much have I borne from you!", he cried, "In a foul hole thou hast kept me, as if I had been a dog, aim I shall repay you in kind! A lesson you shall have that you will remember!"

"Deliver him to us," urged Allan-a-Dale, "and we will beat him with staves until he howls for mercy!"

"If you will let me have my way with him," spoke up Will Scarlett, "I will hang him from one of his own battlements! In very truth he deserves to die!"

"Nay, not one nor the other will you do to him!" vowed Robin Hood. "His punishment shall be to my own taste. Let the wicked rogue be thrust into the dungeon, and when we depart we will take his retainers with us, and will cover over the slab with a carpet, so that he will lie yonder until it suits my pleasure to have him released."

These instructions were promptly obeyed. In spite of threats and curses, Lanfrey Gaveston's limbs were bound, and the rope was made fast to him, and he was lowered through the hole in the floor. The stone fell with a thud, and a carpet was flung upon it. Preparations for departure were then made, and when the outlaws withdrew they led with them as captives every one of the sheriff's men-at-arms and servants, leaving not a living soul behind them in the castle. Across the grounds they marched in triumph, and into the greenwood, while yet the people of Nottingham were ignorant of the daring deed that had been done.

Robin Hood's Triumphant Return to His Camp

The shades of evening were gathering when the merry band reached their camp in the far depths of the forest, and there was then such a scene here as had never been witnessed before. Maid Marian flew to her husband's arms, and Allan-a-Dale embraced his wife, and there was cheering and shouting that made the welkin ring; while Lanfrey Gaveston's retainers stood by fuming in impotent rage.

"And now let us feast," said Robin Hood, when the clamour had died away. "This is an event worthy to be celebrated. I bid you see to what is needful, good monk," he added.

"Gladly will I do your bidding," replied Friar Tuck, as he patted his stomach. "Ay, and with all haste, for I am thirsting and famished."

Long was the revelry kept up that night. Under the boughs of the trees, by the light of torches, there was eating and drinking without stint, and laughter and chatter that kept the birds awake.

Eagerly the women listened to the tale of the conquest of the castle, and Friar Tuck boasted of the part he had taken in the fight, until he fell beneath the table, and lay there snoring.

As for the prisoners, they had no cause to complain of their treatment on this merry occasion. They had their share of meat and drink, and early m the morning, after they had slept for a couple of hours, bandages were bound tightly over their eyes, and they were led forth to a distance of a mile from the camp, when they were released, and told to go their way as best they could. Yet they were forbidden, under pain of a beating, to lift their hands to their faces.

It was ludicrous to see them go blundering and stumbling about, and falling blindly against one another. Thus they groped on for a space, until they could no longer hear the jeers and laughter of the outlaws. And then, having ventured to tear the bandages from their eyes, they set off in the direction of Nottingham.

It was not until the close of the day that the men-at-arms arrived at the castle, which they found to be deserted. Without delay they lifted the stone from the floor of the dining-chamber, and the sheriff was drawn up from the dungeon, chilled to the bone and faint with hunger. He could not speak at first. While his fetters were being cut he listened to the account that was poured into his ears, and when he had risen on his cramped limbs and had drunk a stoup of wine, he roundly abused his retainers for their cowardice, putting all the blame on them.

He fell at length in to such a towering rage that he could brook nobody near him. He seized a quarterstaff and drove all from the room, whacking them without mercy as they fled. And then he paced to and fro in a fever of passion, grinding his teeth, and rolling his wicked eyes, and smiting his fists together.

"By my halidom, there must be an end of this!" he raved. "That knave Hood shall have short shrift, and his fellow-rogues as well! Methinks the only course left to me is to travel to London, and crave speech with his Majesty, and acquaint him with the true state of affairs in this part of his realm. And that I will do, I swear!"

The Sheriff of Nottingham Goes to King Richard

Lanfrey Gaveston was as good as his word. On the morning of the following day he put on his robes and chains of office, and set forth from the castle on horseback, with a mounted escort of six of his men-at-arms. It was a long journey, and another day was nearly over when the party rode into the town of London, and sought quarters at an inn hard by the Tower.

The next morning the sheriff and his men again got to saddle, and by what is now the Strand they came to the King's palace at Westminster, where for a space of several hours they were kept waiting in a courtyard, with nothing to do but kick their heels.

This treatment Lanfrey Gaveston felt to be a slight to his dignity, and he was in no amiable mood when an attendant appeared with a sumons for him. . He entered the palace without his men, and his ruffled temper was soothed as he passed through corridors and chambers, and so to a great hall, that was hung with banners and weapons that had done service in the Holy Land. And here there sat on a throne, surrounded by courtiers, the splendid figure of Richard the Lion-Hearted, the hero of the Crusades. His crown was on his head, and his dress was of satin, embroidered with jewels.

"And what would you have of me, Gaveston?" he asked. "What has brought you from Nottingham?"

"I would have audience of you, sire, concerning one Robin Hood," the sheriff replied, as he sank to his knee and kissed the King's hand. "He is a grievous rogue who haunts Sherwood Forest with his band, and doth flout your Majesty's authority and mine by robbing such travellers as he can waylay."

"I have had reports of the fellow from you, methinks."

"On more than one occasion, sire, have I written. And now I am come in person to state my case."

"I will hear you. Put the matter plainly."

Lanfrey Gaveston began, and plainly indeed did he speak, feeling no timidity in the Royal presence. It might have been supposed, from the accounts to which the King listened patiently, that never had his laws been broken by a more wicked and evil-minded villain than Robin Hood. In the very blackest colours did the sheriff paint the outlaw, telling much of him that was false, and little or nothing that was true. He was not sparing in his language, which showed clearly enough that he was animated by personal hatred.

"To such a pass has it come, sire," he continued, "that the knave's men should storm and take my castle, and set him free, and that he should cast me into my own dungeon to lie among the rats—surely such an outrage is not to be tolerated! To such a heat did it inflame me that I set forth for London to seek audience of your Majesty. There was naught else for it, since I had exhausted the resources at my command. At home I have been sitting helpless, mocked at and derided by the villain who has usurped my powers."

"And what would you have me do?" inquired King Richard, as ho stroked his beard.

"My men-at-arms are few in number, sire," Lanfrey Gaveston answered, "and, therefore, I would urge you to send to Nottingham a force of soldiers so large that they may surround Sherwood Forest and advance into it until they have driven Robin Hood and his band into a trap, and so caught them. And I would also crave of you permission to hang every one of the knaves, who have by their lawlessness forfeited their lives a hundred times over."

"Methinks, Gaveston, you urge too harsh a treatment."

"Would your Majesty show mercy to such evil rogues?"

"But I have from time to time had reports of this Robin Hood, and what I have been told of him is more in his favour than against him. I have been led to take an interest in his doings."

"If you will pardon me, sire, I would bid you believe that what you have heard is false."

"I am not so sure of that," said the King."I have had it from trusty sources. It has come to my ears, for one thing, that Robin Hood hath a noble and kindly disposition."

"On the contrary, his nature is of the meanest, vowed the sheriff. "He would shrink from no crime."

"I have been informed that he is a person of good birth, and that he was driven to take refuge in the forest by an excess of zeal on your port in administering the law."

"Nay, sire, if anything, I was too lax with the rogue. Too long did I permit him to slay your deer."

"I have been told also, Gaveston, that Robin Hood steals only from the rich, and that he gives most freely from his stores to the poor."

"It is all false, your Majesty. In very truth the fellow robs whom he can, and keeps his gold in his purse."

"I have been deceived in all respects, then?"

"You have been, sire," declared Lanfrey Gaveston. "The matter is as I have put it to you, and therefore I do crave for a force of soldiers to rid the forest of these grievous pests. And I pray you to let them set forth with me this very day."

"There is no need for such expedition," replied the King. "I will duly consider the affair, and you shall have an answer regarding it. And now you may leave me," he added. "Ride back to Nottingham, and wait in patience."

Thus curtly dismissed, the sheriff kissed his Majesty's hand, and took his departure in a sour mood, fearing lest he had done more harm than good to the cause he had pleaded. And so indeed he had. His rancour had been obvious to King Richard, who was loth to credit the statements that had been made to him. After the interview was over he sat for a time in deep thought, now and again nodding his head; and, when at length he rose from his throne there was a smile of amusement on his lips.

"I will go disguised into Sherwood Forest," he said to himself, "and thus I shall see with my own eyes, and learn at first bearing, what manner of man this Robin Hood really is. It will be an adventure to my taste, and the more so, if there be a spice of danger."

"Father Anselmo" of the Abbey of St. Benet's in Norfolk

There trudged through the town of Nottingham one morning, and thence into Sherwood Forest, a monk of middle age with a black beard and moustache. He wore a brown robe and cowl. There were sandals on his feet, and a shabby wallet hung from his side. As he walked he leaned heavily on a stick, as if he was tired. He trudged slowly on across the greenwood until towards the close of the day, when he was pounced upon by Allan-a-Dale and Will Scarlett, who had noted his approach and lain in ambush for him.

A Stranger in Sherwood Forest

They were at no great distance from the encampment, as it happened; so instead of questioning the monk, with a view to judging whether or not he was a spy, they told him that he was Robin Hood's prisoner, and that he must come with them. In spite of his protests they led him from his course, and for the space of a league to the headquarters of the band. And here he was conducted to the presence of the famous outlaw, who was sprawled on the grass in a merry mood, laughing and jesting with Maid Marian. He rose to his feet, and shrewdly looked the captive over.

"Who art thou?" he demanded. "Whence do you come, and whither do you go?"

"I am Father Anselmo, of the Abbey of St. Benet's, in Norfolk," the monk replied. "From there have I come, and I go on a pilgrimage into Cheshire to the shrine of a saint."

"It is a long journey," said Robin Hood, in a kindly tone. "Must you needs walk?"

"Of a truth I must, since I am very poor. A little store of money I have, given as alms. And to that you are welcome, if you will let me depart in peace."

"Nay, keep your money. Rather would I put to it. I rob no man of' religion, nor any, indeed, save those who can easily spare from their abundance what I take from them."

"Good, sir, I marvel at your words."

"And how is that, holy father?"

"It is because I have heard different reports of you. I have been told that you were of a grasping and cruel disposition, and. that you steal from rich and poor alike."

"It is false!" exclaimed Robin Hood, his eyes flashing with anger. "I doubt not that such lying tales have been spread broadcast by my enemy, the Sheriff of Nottingham, and I am sorry to think that they may reach the ears of King Richard, who hath in all his realm no subject more loyal to him at heart than myself, outlaw though I may be. But no matter," he added, with a careless shrug of the shoulders and a sad smile. "Persecution has made me what I am, and I must expect to be misjudged."

"That you are a robber grieves me sorely," said the monk, "yet henceforth I will speak in your favour, having learned that rumour has lied concerning you. And now I will depart, if you will kindly give consent."

"Nay," be not in such haste.

"But I have far to go to an inn, and my feet and body are so weary, that if I linger for a rest I shall be in no mind. to press on this day."

"The more reason why you should tarry. You shall bide here as my guest, holy father, and enjoy my hospitality at no expense to yourself, and remain as long as it suits your pleasure. And perchance will find a horse for you ere you leave, so that you may journey into Cheshire in comfort."

"You are too generous, good sir. It would be unseemly of me to——"

"Say no more. The obligation will be on my side, in entertaining one who has such claims on his fellow-men."

No urging was needed to induce Father Anselmo to accept the offer, for which he warmly expressed his gratitude. He had been hoping, in fact, for such an opportunity as this.

A Camp Scene in Sherwood

So pleased was the monk, indeed, that as yet he had made no mention of his departure. He was waiting for a certain thing which he desired, and on the morning of the fourth day it came to pass. The band were taking their ease in the shade, and Maid Marian was playing on a harp, when a muffled clatter of hoofs was heard. Little John and Dickon had been sent forth at an early hour to keep watch. by one of the forest roads, and they were now returning with a captive who had fallen into their hands. They were leading by the bridle a horse on which sat a large and portly man, most richly-attired, with florid features of an arrogant type. He was protesting in vehement language, and roundly abusing his captors; and so he continued until he was brought up to the chief of the outlaws, and there dragged from the saddle. He was then silent for lack of breath and he stood panting and puffing while Robin Hood eyed him. with an expression in which satisfaction could be plainly read.

"By-the mass," he said, "it is indeed a pleasure to me to welcome Sir Giles Malpard here!"

"You'll sing a different tune shortly, knave of knaves that you are!" spluttered the prisoner. "Never, I vow, have I been subjected to such an indignity!"

The two were known to each other. Some of the band also knew Sir Giles Malpard, and to all of the rest his name was familiar. He was a knight who dwelt in a castle at a distance of twenty miles, and was possessed of great wealth.

"A- pretty pass it has come to!" he went on, shaking his fist. "Here am I, riding through the forest on my business, set upon by two of your evil varlets! Two fat purses of gold have they taken from me, and they have forced me to come hither as well!"

"It was done at my bidding," said Robin Hood. "Toll must be paid, and an account rendered in person, by all travellers who journey through my domain."

"Your domain!" snorted Sir Giles Malpard. "This is the height of insolence, forsooth! I'll have you hanged!"

"I doubt not it would please you."

"So it shall be! Too far have you gone this time, thou robber Hood! 'Tis true that the Sheriff of Nottingham is an imbecile, and that you have held him up to derision. But when I lay complaint to the King, as I mean to do, he will send soldiers to make speedy shrift of you and your rogues! Villains of the blackest dye you all are!"

"Gently, my friend! Gently! To lose your temper can do no good. As for his Majesty the King, if he were to weigh your deeds and mine in the balance, it would be you he would be disposed to hang. I, indeed, wish that he could know you for what you are."

There were murmurs of approval at this. The outlaws were enjoying the wrath of the haughty knight, and as interested in him as any of the band, was Father Anselmo. He had drawn close, and for an instant he frowned when Little John produced the two purses of gold. They were handed to the chief, who felt their weight, and smiled.

"Am I to be thus plundered?" raved Sir Giles Malpard. "Have you no respect for the law of the land where so high a personage as myself is concerned? If you would expect mercy, when the day of reckoning comes, give me back my money, and suffer me to depart."

"Nay, both I will not do," declared Robin Hood, in a tone that betrayed sudden anger. "Go your way, but it will be on foot. I have need of your horse, and greater need of your gold. It will do you no hurt to lose it, Sir Giles. I know well how it was got. A merciless, grasping landlord you have been, squeezing the last groat from your tenants. That they have been turned out with no shelter for their heads, and, perchance, to starve, mattered nothing to you. The tears of widows and orphans are on your conscience."

These things were true enough, but the mention of them only enraged the haughty knight the more.

Further threats and abuse he uttered, and from threats he came at length to abject begging that he should not be robbed of his precious money. He only wasted his breath, however. Robin Hood finally cut him short, and bade him be off. And when Sir Giles Malpard lingered, loth to obey, two of the outlaws seized him, and hustled him roughly across the glade to the edge of the cover, into which they thrust him with a kick. They returned laughing, and, meanwhile, Robin Hood had been calculating the value of the gold that was in the two purses. He handed one of them to Little John.

"I charge you with this," he said. "It is for the widow Gervase, who lives beyond the forest at the village of Barly St. Peter, and has seven young children to feed. Give the money to her with my compliments, and tell her to share it with such others as may be in need. As for the unworthy knight's steed——" Robin Hood paused, and turned to the monk. "What I had hopes of, has befallen, good father," he added. "To you I give this horse, for I would have you ride into Cheshire in comfort. And, if our company has become irksome to you, as is possible, you need not tarry with us another hour."

"Nay, I am not weary," Father Anselmo replied. "I should be hard-pressed to remember when I have been in better company. But I have stayed longer than I had meant to, so I will be going posthaste. And most heartily do I thank you for your hospitality, and for your gracious gift. It may be that I shall make return in some wise."

"If ever the opportunity should offer, and you would do me a kindness, speak a good word for me in King Richard's ear."

"That I verily will, if the chance comes. But what kind of a word? Would it please you to have the ban of outlawry removed?"

"Ay, that is in my mind."

"I will not forget, friend Robin Hood. Be sure of that."

Thus ended Father Anselmo's visit, He mounted astride the knight's horse, and, with a supply of food in his wallet, amidst a chorus of farewells and good wishes from Robin Hood and his merry men, he rode across the glade and into the greenwood.

"A word in the King's ear," he chuckled, as he looked back and waved his hand. "A rare jest indeed is that!"

Conclusion

There went, deep into Sherwood Forest one day a week after the departure of the monk, a herald who blew a trumpet so loud, and so frequently, that he was at length pounced upon by Will Scarlett and Allan-a-Dale, who marched him off to the encampment and haled him before their leader. With a flourish, the herald drew from his doublet a roll of parchment, and handed it to Robin Hood, who perceived, with surprise, the royal seal that dangled from it. And when he had read what was written on the parchment, he sprang to his feet, and glanced at his comrades with a flushed and joyful face.

"In very truth the holy father has had the opportunity we spoke of!" he cried. "Here is news of the best! A free pardon for all of us, signed by his Majesty, on the condition that we obey his laws in future! And we are summoned to appear before him on the morrow at the sheriff's castle at Nottingham, whither he has journeyed from London. Never have I dared to hope that such mercy would be shown to——"

Robin Hood's voice choked with emotion. He bared his head, and his companions did the same; and, with downcast eyes, their hearts filled with gratitude, they murmured a prayer.

What a surprise was in store for the band may be guessed. Boldly they presented themselves the next day, one and all, at the sheriff's castle; and when they were ushered into the royal presence, they saw, with amazement beyond words, that King Richard was no other than Father Anselmo. Graciously he received them, and spoke to them both kindly and sternly; and when they departed, it was with the assurance that such properties as they had forfeited should be restored to them; and that Lanfrey Gaveston, for the lies he had told, was to be banished to a distant part of the country.

And thus it happened that Robin Hood returned to his ancestral castle, and there dwelt happily with his beloved wife, and with the comrades who had been so devoted to him in the days when they roved the greenwood.