Henry Gilbert - Robin Hood Read online

  Robin had sent her away comforted, but she had kept word of her visit to him very secret. A few days had passed, and then one night men in Scaurdale had seen two houses burning far away on the wolds, and knew that somehow vengeance had fallen on the two robbers. Next day ail knew and rejoiced in the bold deed_that Robin o' the Hood had come and slain both Thomas of Patherley and Robert of Prestbury, and thus had given back to Bennett of Havelond the fields which the evil men had wrested from him.

  "I tell thee," said Alfred of Gammell, his admiration breaking through his well-bred dislike of violent deeds, "that deed of thine made all high-handed men dwelling beside the forests bethink themselves that if they oppressed too cruelly their turn might come next."

  "I hope they think thus," said Robin, and his face was grim. "If men let such a wrong go unpunished and unrighted as was suffered by Bennett and our cousin, to whom can those who are oppressed look to for succor? Not to thy soft priests, cousin, who squeeze poor men as evilly as any robber baron, and who fill their purses with money wrung from poor yeomen. But tell me, against whom wouldst thou warn me?"

  "Against Sir Guy of Gisborne and his evil plots," replied Gammell. "I was yesterday at Outwoods, which now the king's bailiff holds, until a year and a day from when thou weft made outlaw. There I sought out Cripps, the old reeve, whom I knew was thy friend, and he told me that Sir Guy hath his discomfiture by thee and thy fellows keenly at heart. A bitter man he was before thou didst burn him from his house, but now he is still more evil-minded and harsh. And he hath sworn by dreadful oaths to have thee taken or slain."

  "What plots did old Cripps speak of?"

  "He hath become hand in glove with Ralp Murdach, the sheriff of Nottinghamshire, and the villeins say that wandering men have told them that, together, Sir Guy and Master Murdach are bribing evil men to dress as beggars, palmers, and hucksters to wander through the forests to find thy secret places, so that one day they may gather their men-at-arms and fall upon thee."

  "I thank thee for thy counsel," said Robin, appearing not to treat it, however, as of any special importance; "but now thou and thy men shall dine with me this day."

  They had by this time reached a secret place in some tree-clad hills which rose steeply up beside a river in the forest, and in a cave a feast was already spread, at which all now sat down to do full justice.

  Robin and his men inquired of Gammell whether Sir Guy now treated the villeins of the manor more harshly than before.

  "Men say that he does not," was the reply; "and for a good reason. It is said that when Abbot Robert of St. Mary's heard of thy slaying the men-at-arms and of the flight of thy fellows, he was exceeding wroth with Sir Guy, and told him that he had overdriven the people of his manor, and must look to his conduct, or he would not suffer him to rule the manor. So that the folk are not so harshly overborne as formerly, yet that Sir Guy is the more hateful of them."

  "A miracle!" said Scarlet scornfully, when he heard this, "a word of mercy from the thick-jowled, proud-lipped Abbot of St. Mary's!"

  "Maybe, uncle," said little Gilbert of the White Hand, who had ever wanted to be a priest and to learn to read, "maybe the abbot never told Sir Guy to oppress the manor folk, but that Sir Guy did it from his own heart as a tyrant."

  And this, indeed, was what many of the outlaws deemed in their hearts, and thought not so harshly of the abbot thereafter.

  Soon after this Master Gammell and his men took their departure, and Robin Hood and some of the outlaws went with him to the edge of the forest, and put him on his way toward Locksley village, which lay southwest beyond the little town of Sheffield.

  Now it happened one afternoon some three days afterward that Robin was walking along beside the broad highway which led from Pontefract through the forest to Ollerton and Nottingham. He was thinking of what his cousin had said concerning Sir Guy of Gisborne's plots to capture him, dead or alive, and as he walked beneath the trees he heard the shuffle of footsteps, and looking up, saw a beggar coming down the road.

  Robin, from among the trees, could see the man, while he himself was unobserved, and as he saw the beggar stamping along with a great pikestaff in his hand he wondered whether indeed this man was a genuine beggar, or one of the spies whom Guy of Gisborne had set to watch for him.

  The man's cloak was patched in fifty places, so that it seemed more like a collection of many cloaks than one; his legs were encased in ragged hose, and great tanned boots were on his feet. Round his body, slung from his neck by a great wide thong, was his bag of meal, and in a girdle about him was stuck a long knife in a leathern sheath. On his head was a wide low hat which was so thick and unwieldy that it looked as if three hats had been stitched together to make it.

  Robin's suspicions were aroused, for the man seemed to be dressed for the part, and not to be a real beggar. Moreover, his eyes continually glanced from side to side in the wood as he walked along the uneven track.

  By this time the beggar had gone past the place where Robin stood, and the outlaw shouted to him:

  "Stand, beggar! why in such haste to get on?"

  The beggar answered nothing, but hurried his steps. Robin ran up to him, and the man turned angrily and flourished his staff. He was a man of an evil countenance, with a scar from brow to cheek on one side.

  "What want you with me, woodman?" he cried. "Cannot a man fare peacefully along the king's highway without every loose wastrel crying out upon him?"

  "Thou'rt surly, beggar," said Robin. "I'll tell thee why I bade thee stop. Thou must pay toll ere thou goest further through the forest."

  "Toll!" cried the other, with a great laugh; "if you wait till I pay you toll, thou landloper, thou'It not stir from that spot for a year."

  "Come, come," said Robin; "unloose thy cloak, man, and show what thy purse holds. By thy clothes thou'rt a rich beggar_if such thou truly art, and not a rogue in the guise of an honest beggar."

  The man scowled and glanced suspiciously at Robin, and gripped his staff.

  "Nay, lad," said Robin, good-naturedly, "grip not thy staff so fiercely. Surely thou hast a broad penny in thy purse which thou canst pay a poor woodman for toll."

  "Get thy own money, thou reiving rascal," growled the beggar. "Thou gettest none from me. I fear not thy arrow sticks, and I would be blithe to see thee hanging from the gallows-tree_as, indeed, I hope to see thee ere long."

  "And doubtless," said Robin, "if thou couldst earn dirty coin by treachery thou wouldst not stop at any evil work. I thought thou lookest like an honest beggar! Rogue and traitor are written all over thy evil face. Now, listen to me! I know thee for a traitor in the pay of an evil man, but I'll not be balked of my toll. Throw thy purse on the ground, or I will drive a broad arrow through thee!"

  Even as he spoke, Robin prepared to notch an arrow to the string of his bow. His fingers missed the string, and he bent his eyes down to see what he was doing. That moment was fatal. With a bound like that of a wild cat the beggar leapt forward, and at the same instant he swung his pikestaff round and dashed the bow and arrow from Robin's hand.

  The outlaw leaped back and drew his sword, but quick as thought the beggar beat upon him and caught him a great swinging blow beside the head. Robin fell to the ground in a swoon, just as shouts were heard among the trees beside the way. The beggar looked this way and that, his hand went to the haft of the keen knife in his belt, and for a moment he crouched as if he would leap upon the prostrate outlaw and slay him outright.

  A man in brown jumped from some bushes a few yards away and then two others. They looked at the beggar, who had instantly assumed an air of unconcern, and began to walk forward, and a bend in the narrow track among the trees soon hid him from their sight.

  Two of the men were young recruits of the outlaw band, and the other was Dodd, the man-at-arms who had yielded to Robin when the latter had slain Hugo of Lynn. As they began walking along the road, suddenly Dodd espied the bow and arrow which had been dashed from Robin's hand, and he stopped.


  "Ay, ay," he said; "what's been doing here? 'Tis our master's bow. I know it by its size, for no other hath the hand to draw it."

  "Look! look!" cried one of the others, pushing behind a bush where Robin had fallen; "here is a wounded man-by the Virgin, 'tis our master! Now, by St. Peter, who hath done this evil deed!"

  Swiftly Dodd knelt beside his leader and pushed his hand into his doublet to feel whether his heart still moved. Then he cried:

  "Lads, thanks be to the Saints; he's alive. Run to the brook beside the white thorn there and bring water in thy cap."

  The water being thrown upon the outlaw's face, he quickly revived. He sighed heavily, his hand went up to his aching head, and he opened his eyes.

  "O master," said Dodd, "tell us who hath treated thee so evily. Surely 'twas done by treachery. How many were they who set upon thee?"

  Robin smiled wanly upon the three eager faces bending above him, and in a little while was sufficiently recovered to sit up.

  "There was no more than one who set upon me," said Robin, "and he was a sturdy rogue dressed like a beggar. With his great pikestaff he dashed upon me as I fitted an arrow to my string, and ere I could defend myself he knocked me down in a swoon."

  "Now, by my faith," said Dodd, "'twas that rascal beggar whom we saw as we came to the road_so innocent he looked! Go you, lads," he said, turning to the other two men, "show yourselves keen lads, and capture him and bring him back, so that our master may slay him if he will."

  "But," said Robin, "use stealth in the way you approach the rogue. 'Twas my foolishness to get too near his long staff that was my undoing. If ye let him use his great beam, he'll maim ye."

  The two young fellows promised to creep upon the beggar warily, and set off eagerly, while Dodd stayed by Robin until the latter felt strong enough to stand up and be assisted toward the camp of the outlaws.

  Meanwhile, the two young outlaws, knowing the beggar must keep to the only road through the forest, swiftly ran to catch him up. But presently one of them, Bat or Bart by name, suggested that they should go by a nearer way through the trees which would enable them to lie in ambush for the beggar at a narrow part of the road. The other agreed, and accordingly they pushed through the forest. Strong of limb they were, and if their wits had only been as keen as were their senses, all would have gone well with them. But they were only three weeks from the plow, and from the hard and exhausting labor in the fields of their lord, and they were not as sharp as they would soon become when the dangers of the greenwood had been about them a little longer.

  On they ran between the trees, through the glades and the boggy bottoms, flinching at neither mire nor pool, and balking at neither hillock nor howe. At length they reached the highway through the forest again at a place where the road ran through a dell. At the bottom was a thick piece of wood through which the road narrowed, and here they took up their place, each hiding behind a tree on opposite sides of the way.

  Soon, as they crouched waiting, they heard the shuffle and tramp of footsteps coming down the hill, and peering forth, they saw it was the beggar man whom they had seen near where their master lay in a swoon.

  As he came to the part of the road between them they both dashed out upon him, and before he could think of fleeing, one had snatched the pikestaff from his hand, and the other had caught his dagger froTh his girdle and was holding it at his breast.

  "Traitor churl!" said the outlaw, "struggle not, or I'll be thy priest and send thee out of life."

  The beggar's evil face went dark with rage as he glared from one to the other, and then looked about for a way of escape. But there was no chance of escape that he could see, and therefore he determined on craftiness to get him out of this trouble.

  "Kind sirs," he said humbly, "grant me my life! Hold away that keen and ugly knife or I shall surely die for fright of it. What have I done to thee that thou shouldst seek to slay me? And what profit will thou get from my rags if thou killest and robbest a poor old beggar?"

  "Thou liest, false knave!" cried Bat fiercely. "I think 'twould be better if I thrust this knife at once between thy evil ribs. Thou hast near slain the gentlest man and the bravest in all Sherwood and Barnisdale. And back again thou shalt be taken, fast bound and trussed, and he will judge whether thou shalt be slain, as a mark for our arrows, or be hung from a tree as not worthy to have good arrows stuck in thy evil carcass."

  "Kind sirs," said the beggar whiningly, "is it that woodman whom I struck but now that I have nearly slain? Oh, by the rood, but 'twas only in defence of myself that I struck him. Sorry I am that my awkward stroke hath near slain him."

  "Out upon thee, thou hast not slain him!" cried Bat. "Think you his good life is to be put out by thy dirty staff. He'll live to do thee skaith [harm] within the next hour, as thou shalt see. Now, Michael," Bat said to his comrade, "let us truss this rogue up with his own rope girdle and push him along to our master. Thou art ugly enough now, rogue," Bat went on, "but thou'It look uglier still when thou art swinging and grinning through a noose."

  The beggar saw that Bat was a determined man, and that if he thought not speedily of some wile wherewith to escape from their hands, it would fare ill with him.

  "O brave gentlemen," he said in a shaking voice, "be kind, and spare a poor old beggar. Sorry I am if I have done any ill to the brave nobleman, your leader. But I am very willing to make a good recompense for any ill I have done him. Set me free, and I will give thee twenty marks which I have in my poke [bag] here, as well as odd bits of silver which I have hidden among my rags."

  At these words the eyes of both Bat and Michael glistened. They had never had money in their lives before, and the chance of getting ten marks each_a fabulous sum to them_was too much for their loyalty to their master.

  "Show us thy money, old rogue," said Bat. "I believe thou liest. But show it to us!"

  They let the beggar loose, and he untied his cloak and laid it on the ground. The wind was blowing gustily now as the twilight was descending, and he stood with his back toward it. Then he took off two big bags which they supposed contained meal and meat and bread, and placed them on the ground before him.

  Finally he took the great belt from his neck which supported another bag by his side.

  "In this," he said, "I hide my money for greater safety. 'Tis full of old clouts with which to stuff my clothes against the bitter wind, and my shoon to keep my feet warm."

  As he was lifting the belt over his head Bat saw that immediately under his left arm was a little pouch slung by a thin strap. This seemed so artfully hidden that the outlaw thought that it must contain something of great value, and he almost suspected that the beggar, with all the clumsy preparations he was making, must be intending to keep the richest pelf from them.

  He leaned forward, gripped the thin strap, and with a quick turn of his knife cut it, and the purse came away in his hand. The beggar tried to snatch it, but he was encumbered by the great bag he had in his hands. He struggled to seize it, but both outlaws held their knives against his breast.

  "Cease, ugly knave!" cried Bat, "or we'll let out thy life and have thy booty as well. And see thou playest no tricks, or 'twill go ill with thee."

  The beggar saw that Bat was becoming suspicious, and stayed his attempts to snatch at the purse which the outlaw had now crammed into the breast of his tunic. With black looks and glowering eyes the beggar rested his big bag on the ground, and bent to undo it, the outlaws also stooping to see that he played no tricks.

  He pushed his hands into the bag, and then suddenly dashed in their faces a great cloud of meal. The two outlaws were blinded at once and retreated, howling imprecations and threats upon the beggar, though they could not see a whit where he was.

  Next moment, however, they felt the weight of his pikestaff upon their heads, for he had quickly seized his stick, and with fierce blows attacked them. Bat, his eyes still smarting with the meal in them, felt the beggar's hand tear at his tunic, but he slashed it with his dagger, which he still
held, and dimly he saw the beggar retreat for a moment with a gory hand and make ready to bring his pole down on Bat's head with a deadly blow.

  The outlaw knew then that the purse held something of value. He dashed away just as the staff fell with a blow that, had it alighted on his head, at which it was aimed, would have cracked his skull. Bat looked no more behind, but ran as fast as he could go, followed by his comrade. For some time the beggar followed them, but he was burdened by his heavy clothes, and soon gave up the chase.

  It was now almost dark, and very ruefully the two outlaws made their way back to the camp.

  "We are two great fools," said Bat, "and I will give my back willingly to Master Robin's scourge."