Robin Hood. Creswick Paul
sure that it will, Roger. Some inward voice warns me that it will."
The other made a sign to the last speaker to speak more quietly. Robin cocked his ears in vain, but he had heard enough to show him that the shadow of a great evil was stalking behind his cousin, and without further thought decided that he must save him.
The two villains stood together a plaguey time perfecting their plans, and Robin dared scarcely breathe. Once, when he attempted to wriggle his way through the bracken, at the first sound of movement both men had become utterly silent, showing that they had heard and waited to hear again.
"A squirrel, friend," said the one called Roger at last, and Robin took heart again.
However, knowing that presently they must espy his jennet tethered by the road, Robin became desperate. He writhed his body snake-like through the ferns until he came to the edge of the brook; then, covered by the noise of the falling water, essayed to creep up the course of the stream.
The distance from the road could scarcely have been two hundred ells, but it seemed to Robin more like to a league. He got his feet and legs wet and bemired; and cut his hands over the rocks about the brook. Yet he came nearer and nearer still to the roadway without having given alarm.
Robin saw at length the close turf which bordered the road, and spied his little grey horse. Forthwith he rose to his feet and made a bold dash for it.
The jennet was untethered and Robin upon its back in a flash; then the lad heard the whizz of an arrow past him. He bent his head down close to the neck of his jennet and whispered a word into its ear. The little mare, shaking herself suddenly to a gallop, understood; and now began a race between bow and beast.
These outlaws were no common archers, for sure. Twice did their shafts skim narrowly by Robin and his flying steed; the third time a sudden pricking told the youth that he was struck in the back.
He had no time for thought of pain. Everything depended on the beast under him. He pressed his legs softly but firmly against her streaming sides.
She was more swift in the end than the cruel arrows. Robin saw the countryside flashing by him through a cloud of dust; saw that Nottingham gate was reached; that a party with surprised faces watched his furious approach. The little mare swayed and rolled as she went, and Robin came to the ground, with the outlaw's arrow still in him. He was conscious that someone ran to him and lifted him tenderly: he perceived dimly, through circling blackness, the anxious face of Stuteley.
"Are you hurt, dear master?" he seemed to see, rather than hear, him say.
Then Stuteley, Nottingham, and reason fled swiftly together, and the day became as night.
CHAPTER VIII
When he recovered himself Robin found them binding his shoulder. He smiled up at Warrenton to show that the hurt was little. "Are we too late for the joustings, Will?" he murmured, spying out Stuteley's face of concern.
"We are to bring back the golden arrow with us which the Sheriff has offered as prize to the best marksman," answered Warrenton, before the other could speak. "Now, you are to remember all that I have shown you, and shoot in confidence. Now come: the gates of Nottingham are opened, and your wound is neatly bandaged. Here is the arrow plucked from it: keep it for a trophy."
"Is it a pretty shaft, Warrenton?" asked Robin, carelessly, as the old servant thrust it into his quiver.
"It is one of Will's own, and that suffices."
After Master Ford had briefly bidden them farewell, they left their beasts in charge of a fellow inside the gate, bidding him give the little grey jennet all care and attention.
Here, also, Robin got himself washed and made tidy for the Fair, and had some meat and drink to restore him. He found that it was to the long Norman cape he wore that he owed his life. The outlaw's arrow had been diverted by the flapping garment, and had only pricked him in the fleshy part of his shoulder. The cape was so ripped, however, as to become ridiculous in its rags, so Robin asked for the loan of a pair of shears, and with them trimmed the cape so ruthlessly in his haste as to make it become more like an old woman's hood.
"You have turned Saxon out of Norman very suddenly, master," laughed young Stuteley.
It was a full three hours past noon ere they came to the Fair. A great ring had been made in the centre of it, and huge wooden stands had been built about this circle. They were covered finely with cloth of red and gold; and many flags and banners were flying above the tops and about the stands.
The blare and discord of trumpets rang out over the noise of the people. A great clamor of voices betokened the arrival of some great man at the front of the chief stand.
"The Sheriff has arrived," cried Stuteley, who knew the ways at these affairs. "Hear how the people do cheer him! For sure he must be a man well liked–"
"These fellows will applaud anyone who has power and office," said Warrenton, scornfully. "Master Monceux is not beloved of them, for all that. But hasten, or we shall be shut out. Already they are closing the gates."
The clouds were heavy and grey, and a few large drops of rain began to patter down.
"Look to our bows, Warrenton," cried Robin, in alarm.
"Be easy, lording–your bow shall not be at fault if the prize does not fall to your hand. Follow me."
They were now at the wicket, and Warrenton produced his authority. Gamewell's name was enough. They were ushered into a small box near by the Sheriff's own, and there awaited events.
First came bouts of single-stick and quarter-staff, and Master Will was keen to take part in these contests. Warrenton counselled him to remain in the background, however.
"The folk are sure to recognize you, malapert," said he, giving Stuteley his favorite name for him, "and there will be an outcry. Let be, then, and attend to your master."
"It would be better, Will, I do think," said Robin. "I have to find out cousin Geoffrey, and warn him against two villains waiting for him without the town." And Robin gave them briefly the history of his adventure.
Ere he had ended the story, the Sheriff held up his baton as a sign that the jousting would begin. Two knights rode into the ring through the hastily opened gates, heralded by their esquires–amid the noise of a shrill blast of defiance. They were clad in chain-mail, bound on and about with white riband, and their armor was burnished in a manner most beautiful to behold. Their esquires threw down their gauntlets before the box of Master Monceux, and challenged the world to a trial of strength in these the lists-magnificent of Nottingham town.
Two black knights had ridden into the lists in answer to the challenge; and now all clamor was hushed. The Sheriff's daughter, a pale, hard-faced girl, with straw-colored hair and mincing ways, announced in inaudible voice the terms of the contest. The heralds repeated them afterwards in stentorian tones; and the rivals wheeled about, the white knights couching their lances from under the Sheriff's box. The others prepared themselves at the wicket-gate and waited for the signal.
This was given, and the four rushed together with a shock like a thunder-clap. These four knights gave good account of themselves.
The black knights had been unhorsed, and now they lay helpless in their heavy armor. Once on their feet, they were eager to renew the fray, and were soon again in readiness. At the second tilt they rudely unhorsed the white knights by sheer strength of arm; and all the people shouted themselves hoarse.
So the jousting went on; and, after the white knights had eventually won the first round, yellow and red took their places. Robin eagerly scanned the latter, trying to discover which of the two might be Geoffrey. A small, thin-faced man behind the Sheriff was no less eager to discover Montfichet in this favorable apparel; and evidently had sharper eyes than had Robin in piercing disguise. This wizened-faced fellow leaned back with satisfied smile, after one searching glance; then, drawing out his tablets, he wrote on them, and despatched his man in haste to London town.
Geoffrey was unhorsed in the second tilting; and lay so long upon the ground that Robin's heart stood still. It was then discovered that this knight was unknown and had no esquire. Thus