Robin Hood Part 40

"If you will but carry this letter to Mistress Fitzwalter, who is with thy cousin Robin Fitzooth in Barnesdale, Sir Knight," said Simeon, plausibly, "you will win the grat.i.tude of the Sheriff's daughter, at the least; and she doth rule the roost here, as I can tell you. 'Tis but a letter from Master Fitzwalter to his child."

"I know the woods and will take the note," Geoffrey said. "See to it that Monceux does not move against me."

"His girl will tie his hands, if need be," grinned Carfax. "Ay, she can drive us all. G.o.d speed you, Sir Knight."

It fell out that whilst Robin was walking alone near the highroad to York, close to that very bridge whereon he had fought with Little John, he perceived a smart stranger dressed in scarlet and silk. Just as Robin espied this gay gentleman and was marvelling at his daring in walking these woods so coolly, unattended by squire or guard, the knight deftly fitted an arrow to his bow, and with a clever shot brought down a fine stag.

"Well hit," cried Robin, who could never abstain from admiration of a good bowman. "You have used your bow full well, Sir Knight."

The scarlet knight turned towards Robin, and, taking him for some husbandman or hind, called out in high tones, asking how he dared to speak to his betters in that insolent way.

"How is one to know one's betters, Sir Knight?" queried Robin, cheerfully. "A n.o.ble is not always known by his dress, but rather by his manners and his deeds."

"Your insolence shall be well paid for," returned the other, putting by his bow and drawing his sword. Without further argument he approached Robin angrily, and struck at him with meaning.

Robin was too quick for him, however, and caught the blow upon the edge of his own trusty blade. After a few pa.s.ses Robin feinted, and, catching the other unawares, dealt him a thwack with the flat of his blade. The scarlet stranger reeled under the blow.

"I find you are not so mean a person as I had thought," observed he, in a series of gasps. "Yet, even now, 'tis not amiss that you should have a lesson."

With that the two engaged heartily, and fought for nigh an hour, without either side gaining an advantage.

At length he succeeded in p.r.i.c.king Robin on the cheek.

"Hast enough, fellow?"

"A rest would be welcome," admitted Robin, with a laugh.

They called a truce and sat down side by side beneath a tree. The stranger eyed Robin thoughtfully; and Robin glanced back at him, with his suspicions slowly growing to certainty. Presently:

"You are he whom they call Robin Hood, I take it," said the stranger, "although I do not know you by such a strange name."

"It is my own name," replied the outlaw, "and I am proud of it. Are you not Geoffrey of Gamewell?"

"That _was_ my name, cousin, even as yours was once Robin Fitzooth, but now I call myself Will Scarlett. 'Tis a whimsey; but since Geoffrey Montfichet has a bigger price on his head than I can afford to pay, why, I have buried him under a prettier name! But tell me why you are dressed so plainly. On my life, I did not know you when first we met."

"A man should have clothes to suit his work, cousin," argued Robin. "And 'tis a wonder to me that you should have been able to kill yon stag with such a wild color upon you. Howbeit, thy arrow was shrewd enough, and I'll say no more than to tell how well pleased I am to have fallen in with you again. Here's my hand in all true affection, cousin Scarlett."

"And mine, cousin Hood."

They carried the stag between them to Barnesdale; and Robin learned that his cousin had a letter with him for Marian. When Robin heard who had given it to Will Scarlett his suspicions were immediately awakened.

"However, let us give Marian the letter, and see what she may think upon it," he observed. "There cannot be much harm in that."

Thus did Mistress Monceux succeed admirably in the first part of her scheme.

Soon as Marian had had her letter she was all agog to go back into Nottingham. She showed the scroll to Robin, and though his heart misgave him he could hardly say her nay. No doubt as to the genuineness of the letter occurred to Marian: she knew her father's peculiarly awkward handwriting too well. Certainly the phrasing of it seemed a little too easy for so plain a man, yet since he had been so long in London he had, of course, acquired Court ways.

On the third week in September Marian determined to return to her old home, and take the risk of any treachery.

"Allan-a-Dale and Fennel shall go with you, dear heart," said Robin.

"Why not? They can appear as your father's guests, and the two maids will help you keep house. Also Warrenton shall go as Allan's man. I can be sure that these faithful ones will guard my pretty love from all harm."

"Am I indeed your pretty love?" asked Marian, in foolish happiness; "are you sure that you would not have some other maid--to wit, the demoiselle Marie? She hath an eye for you, as I know--for all she seemeth so much our enemy. Trust a woman for finding out another woman's secret!"

Mistress Fennel was not loth to leave the greenwood. In the summer months the life was none too bad a one, but now that September mists and rains were upon Barnesdale, the young wife shivered and complained.

"Hereford is the only one we need fear, after all," Allan admitted; "your old baron would never look for us in Nottingham."

"And the Bishop is in London," said Marian, showing her letter. "See what my father saith."

Therefore Robin and his men were left to their own devices in the matter of cooking and kitchen work soon as September's third week had come and gone. Allan-a-Dale, Warrenton, the two girls and their two maids, all travelled into Nottingham on the best horses that the outlaws could provide, under escort so far as Gamewell. They were secretly watched into the town, that Robin might be sure no one attempted any treachery.

It was arranged that Allan should come himself to Gamewell, and seek the Squire's friendship on some near occasion. Then he might tell the old man about Marian and how she had left his roof.

Montfichet would not be vexed with her, Marian felt. If he were, she would come herself, and coax him. Also either Allan or Warrenton would find means to send Robin news of the household, and tell him whether Fitzwalter returned as the latter promised.

So all safeguards that wit could devise were taken, and Robin, having kissed her little fingers very tenderly, left Marian with her cortege, upon the road by Gamewell, and having satisfied himself that all had gained safe entrance to Nottingham, journeyed back to the caves at Barnesdale with quiet mien. His heart told him to suspect some evil plot--yet where could he find one? Scarlett, his own cousin, had brought the letter, and Marian had recognized the writing.

Oh, how dull the caves and the woods seemed without her! Tuck and the miller had employed themselves in cooking them all a royal dinner; and Stuteley tried his best to lighten the gloom. Robin laughed with them, and sought to hide his grief, feeling it to be unmanly.

But never had he enjoyed a feast so little in the free woods as this one. Good food and good company he had, but not that salt with which to savor them--a merry heart.

CHAPTER XXVII

The autumn ripened into winter. Allan found means to send Robin news of them often: Master Fitzwalter had not returned; but had sent another letter saying that he would do so ere long. They all were happy and unmolested in the city. Of the Sheriff and his daughter they had seen nothing. That Warrenton was well, and that they had gotten them a man-cook and other servants.

Marian wrote little crabbed messages to him. Brief and ill-spelt as they were, they became Robin's chiefest treasures. Marian forebore making any attempt to see her love, for fear that she might be watched and followed, and so bring about Robin's capture. She fretted sorely at this restraint placed upon her by Allan's more prudent hands.

The demoiselle Marie had made a miscalculation. She knew that presently Robin would seek Marian, even in the lion's mouth. _Then_ would come the day of the Sheriff's triumph.

The little house of the Fitzwalters was spied upon from within. No one bethought them of this new cook. Had Little John once espied him there would have been a different tale to tell, however.

He had offered his services to Warrenton at a small premium, saying that he had lost his last place with being too fond of his bed.

He said his name was Roger de Burgh, and that he came of good family.

The wages he asked were so small, and he seemed so willing, and had been so frank as to his failing, that Marian bade him take up his quarters forthwith in her father's house.

Life pa.s.sed uneventfully for them in the Fitzwalter household. It was neither happy nor unhappy. Mistress Fennel found it vastly more amusing than the draughty caves of Barnesdale; but then Mistress Fennel had her dear--and Marian had not. She was vaguely disturbed at her father's lengthened absence. Surely he should by now have determined where he would live--Nottingham or London.

The months crawled on and Christmas came and went.

Marian was still tied to Nottingham streets and Robin to Barnesdale woods. This state of inactivity had told much upon the greenwood men--upon Little John most of all.