CHAPTER VIII.
The sun had declined about two hours and a half from the meridian, butthe day was still warm and bright. The month of May, in the olden time,indeed, was a warmer friend than at present, if we may believe theancient tales and chronicles; and, in good sooth, the seasons of theyear seem to have changed altogether, and the weather to have becomechilly, whimsical, and crotchetty, as the world has grown older. Thereare no vineyards to be found now in Northumberland, and yet many aplace in the northern counties retains the name to the present day,evidently showing to what purposes they were formerly applied. It israrely now in England, too, that we have any title to call it themerry, merry month of May, for, very often, cold and piercing are thewinds, sad the sleet and rain; and, for one of the bright and gloriousdays of summer, we have a multitude of the dark and shadowy ones ofwinter. Perhaps one cause of this change may be that which has broughtabout many another evil in the land,--namely, the cutting down of thosemagnificent old forests which sheltered the breast of England like agarment, and stopped the fierce winds in their career over the island,Indeed we know that the destruction of the woods in other countries hasproduced such effects; and there is every reason to believe that herealso the climate has greatly suffered, though other benefits may havebeen obtained.
However that may be, the month of May at that time in England wasindeed a merry month, replete with sunshine, bountiful in flowers, withevery bird in song, and every tree in leaf, and the whole world full ofthe warmth and the tenderness of youth. It is true, indeed, that in theearly part of the month, April would still look in with a tear in hereye to bid the earth good bye; and such had been the case on themorning of the fourth of May, in the year of which we have lately beenspeaking. About nine o'clock, two or three showers had swept past,though the blue eye of heaven had seldom been altogether withdrawn, butlooked through the rain as through a veil, and every now and then thesun peeped out, even while the drops were coming down, and flung arainbow over the bosom of the forest. The clouds, however, cleared offentirely before noon, and left the world but the fresher for thesprinkling, the woods looking more green, and the flowers more brightand full of perfume.
The road from Sheffield--not the high road--running throughBloodsworth, and leaving Nurstead a little to the right, at thedistance of about a mile past the former place, entered the extensivewoody ground, which had ceased for a space in the neighbourhood ofMansfield; but which at that time covered the whole of the rest of thecountry. A little farther on again, the scene changed to one of thosesmall, open greens, common in the forest, where two or three acres ofgrassy turf appeared free from trees, but surrounded on all sides bythe wood. Fine old oaks and beeches stood forward here and there,stretching out their long and rugged arms, covered with the soft hue ofspring, and leaving the line of the little savannah wild and irregular,While a break amongst the trees on the right showed the sunshinestreaming into another opening of the same kind, and gave theimagination room to sport through other groves and dells beyond.
In the midst of this green, with his arms crossed upon his chest, hiseyes bent on the ground, and his brow somewhat gloomy, walked Robert ofthe Lees by Ely, as he had called himself, while not far off, under theshadow of a wide-spreading oak, stood a boy, holding a white horse anda bow, Robin seemed to be whiling away a time of waiting, in communingwith himself of many things, with that sort of desultory meditationwhich woodlands gender more than any other scenes; and, ever and anon,his lips proved faithless guardians to his thoughts, muttering a wordof two of what was passing in his mind, without his knowing that theydid so.
"Ha! Left Nottingham so soon with her paramour!" he said, "That washasty!" and again he was silent for a space. "They must have heard thatI had taken the chase in hand, or else the Earl has followed themcloser than they expected.--How this poor youth suffers! One wouldthink that he had lost the most precious thing on earth, instead of alight-o'-love May-day flirt!--And after, all, perhaps, he has lost themost precious thing on earth, for he has lost trust--confidence. Thatcan never come again when once it is gone.--Besides, a woman is to uswhat we esteem her more than what she is. He held her to be all that isgood, and so in losing her he loses all that is good,--They are idlethings, these women; and yet there is good as well as bad in them. Sogoes the old song--
"To whom does woman's love belong? And who shall hold that fickle thing? No iron chain was e'er so strong, As long to bind its fluttering wing.
"Caught by the ear--caught by the eye-- The handsome face, the flattering tongue, The pleasant smile, the well-told lie, May win it, but not hold it long.
"The king has no command o'er love, The peasant's sweetheart jilts the swain; And those who stay, and these who rove, Seek bands for woman's heart in vain.
"Rank, wealth, prosperity, and power, Have all been tried, without avail; Yet ne'er in dark misfortune's hour, Has woman's love been known to fail."
So sung, or rather hummed, the bold forester, as he walked to and froalong the sandy path; and, as is very often the case, the song seemedthe most convincing argument he could use, for it concluded thediscussion with himself concerning young Harland, and he turned histhoughts to other things again.
"They will take him by surprise," he muttered to himself in the samelow tone as before; and then having uttered this vaticination, herelapsed into silence, took another turn, and said--"The Kingat Cambridge?--That cannot be for nothing: he has misled DeMontfort--Gloucester fortifying his castles too--that looks ill! He isnot to be trusted, Gloucester. He never was--he never will be.--Hark! ahorse's feet! Here come the Earls!"
Another moment, however, showed him that he was mistaken, for the horsewhose tramp he heard came from the side of Nottingham, and not fromthat of Yorkshire. The animal itself was a good brown gelding, with ashort tail, which, in those days, was a rarity, for many of thebarbarous customs of the present time were then unknown. Indeed, thoughit may seem a contradiction in terms, civilization in general has not alittle barbarism in it, and luxury is always sure to introducepractices of which savages would be ashamed. The horse, however, as Ihave said, was a good brown gelding with a short tail; the man thatbestrode it, a jolly, large-stomached personage, in the garb of atradesman; and the moment the forester saw him, he exclaimed, "Ha! ourgood friend the sutler of Southwell! What makes you ride the forest,Barnaby? You do not trouble Sherwood for nothing."
"Seeking you, Robin--seeking you," replied the sutler. "One that youknow of gave me this for you. It was to pass through no hands but mineand yours. But look ye! Here comes a goodly train. Now will there berough work anon between the silken hoods and the men in Lincoln green.I'll away, Robin--I'll away, for I love no blows but those of therolling pin!"
The man to whom he spoke took no notice either of his words or hisdeparture, so intent was he upon the contents of the letter which hadjust been put into his hand. He read it over twice after the messengerwas gone, and seemed scarcely to remark the approach of a large partyon horseback, comprising, as the reader may have divined by this time,the very personages for whom he was waiting. When he raised his eyes,however, he beheld advancing towards him, at a slow pace, some twentymounted men, well armed, and headed by the old Earl of Monthermer. Thatnobleman, however, was unaccompanied by one of those whom our friend inthe Lincoln green was the most anxious to see, the Earl of Ashby being,as the reader is well aware, on the other side of Nottingham.
The party of old Monthermer, as he was called, consisted of himself andhis servants alone, having sent away all the other noblemen andgentlemen who had met him in Yorkshire, to find their way, in separatebodies to join their friends in London. His nephew, too, for reasonsthat the old lord saw and well approved, had gone on with the Earl ofAshby; and the only addition to his train since we last saw him, was astout old priest, his chaplain, who had been previously dispatched on amission to Northumberland.
At a distance of about twenty ya
rds from the spot where the boldforester stood, the Earl pulled up his horse and dismounted slowly,giving the word to halt. He then advanced directly towards, him,holding out his hand, which the other took with an air of respect anddeference, but without the least approach to fawning.
"Welcome to Sherwood, my good lord," said Robert of the Lees. "But whycome you alone? Would not the noble Earl of Ashby trust himself amidstthese shades?"
"He had left me, Robin," replied the Earl, "before I got your message,with his son Alured and my nephew Hugh. He set out for Nottinghamyesterday, just after morning song."
"Ha!" exclaimed the forester, his brow growing dark. "'Tis strange Iheard not of it. Gone to Nottingham, just after morning song? He mighthave been there by noon; and yet he was not."
"No, no," answered the Earl, "he could not arrive by noon. He hadmatters of some moment to see to by the way. But were you so anxious tohave some speech with him?"
"I was," answered the forester, abruptly. "I was.--But it mattersnot--I will send him a message; and now, my lord, will you mount yourhorse again; and come with me? I have much to say to you, and manythings to tell, some of which you know, perhaps, already, but some ofwhich you have never heard."
"I can but stay an hour," replied the Earl; "for I must forward toNottingham to supper, and that will be a late one, even now."
"We have supper ready for you, my good lord," answered the forester;"and you, at least, need not fear to ride through Sherwood in theeventide."
"No feasting on the King's venison, Robin!" cried the Earl, with alaugh; "but still our meal must be short, for I have business to doto-night of more importance than my supper. Shall I bid the men come onwith me, or to stay here till I return?"
"Let them follow--let them follow," said the forester; "but keep themout of earshot--the priest especially. Ho, boy! bring up my horse."
More at a sign by which he accompanied the call than at the wordsthemselves, the boy, whom we have mentioned as holding a white horseunder one of the trees, ran up with the animal in hand, while the Earlgave directions to his men to follow him slowly, keeping at thedistance of some fifty yards. He then remounted, with his forestfriend, who led him on still upon the open road, saying--"You shallhave as little of the woodland as possible, and every step you take isso much on your way to Nottingham."
"That is well," replied the Earl; "but now tell me, Robin, how many ofyour old friends have you gathered round you here, in case of need?"
"Not more than a hundred," answered his companion, "With some forty inBarnsdale."
"Sadly few!" said the Earl, musing.
"Many a stout soldier and many a true friend," replied the forester,"love not to live the life and share the perils of an outlaw."
"There is a reproach in that," said the Earl; "but I pledge you myknightly word, Robin, that I did my best to have the outlawry reversedwhenever we got the power into our own hands, but it was Gloucesteropposed it, and the Earl of Leicester judged it dangerous to thwarthim."
"You mistake, my lord," rejoined the forester, "and would have done mebut little service had you succeeded, though I thank you for the wish.The enmity of my lord of Gloucester stood me in good stead. These areriddles, my good lord, but they are easily read. Hark to another, notmuch more difficult. My hundred men are not few, but many; for eachman, besides a sheaf of arrows, has a sheaf of friends, and about thesame number of each. We shall not count much less than two thousand,noble sir, in the day of need, and that day is coming faster than youimagine."
"There are clouds in the sky, certainly," replied the Earl,
"They overshadow the sun," rejoined the outlaw, abruptly. "The news Ihad to tell you, but an hour ago, was merely that the King hadcontrived to lead my lord of Leicester away from his resources, andthat Gloucester is fortifying himself in the marches of Wales--that hehas refused to be present at the tournament of Northampton, and thatpeople flock to him who are known to be favourers of the foreigners."
"I have heard something of this," said the Earl, "but knew not that ithad gone so far."
"Farther--farther, my lord," replied the other--"farther a great deal!I have more tidings for you now. Gloucester is proclaimed a traitor,Leicester has fallen back upon the Severn, and I fear me that meanshave been taken to amuse the good Earl's son in that business ofPevensey. Look at that letter, my lord."
"Ay this bears the likeness of war, indeed," replied the Earl, afterreading a paper which his companion, gave to him--"this bears thelikeness of war, indeed; and I am glad it has come to this. Gloucesteris a loss to the good cause, it is true, though he is cold andcautious----"
"And selfish, and treacherous, and cunning," added the outlaw.
"But still there is little to fear," continued the Earl, "he is no morecompetent to cope with Simon de Montfort, than an usher's white rodwith a soldier's battle-axe."
"He wants the energy of a strong will," said the outlaw, "and thereforecan never be a great man; but still his influence makes him dangerous,my lord, and you must look to it."
"We will not despise him," replied the Earl; "but still I fear him not.So long as the Prince is in the hands of De Montfort, the freedom ofEngland is secure. He is the power of the royal party, but we havetaken care that he shall have no means of acting--nominally free, butwatched, day and night--his servants, his keepers--his companions, hisgaolers. I could grieve for the noble Prince, I must confess, were itnot that the safety of the whole realm, the freedom of every man withinit, and the happiness of every English hearth, demand that he should beprevented by any means from giving strength to his father's weakness byhis own powerful mind."
"I grieve for him, too," replied the outlaw. "I once, at York, saw aneagle in a cage, my lord; and though it looked at me fiercely, as if itwould have torn me for my pains, I broke the bars, and let the noblebird go free."
"We must not do that here," replied the Earl.
"I fear not," answered his companion. "Nevertheless, I grieve for thePrince with all my heart; and would he but swear and keep his oath,which princes seldom do, I would be the first to give him his liberty,upon a promise to respect ours."
"We have tried that, good Robin," replied the Earl, "and we must do sono more. The wisest man that ever lived, said, 'Put not your faith inprinces;' and this young leopard must, I fear, be kept in a chain,however sad it be to fetter noble energies like his."
"Make the chain strong enough, then, my lord," said the outlaw; "for ifhe breaks it, he will be more fierce than ever."
"Forged by Simon de Montfort, it will be strong enough," answered theEarl; "but let us think of farther proceedings. So, Gloucester isproclaimed a traitor?"
"Ay, and Mortimer, too," replied the forester, "and a number of others.Many of the lords marchers have joined him, you see, and his power isdaily increasing."
"Then it is time," said the Earl, "for the friends of England to gatherround De Montfort. A battle cannot be far distant. Doubtless there willbe letters for me at Nottingham, and I will soon let you know where youcan meet us with your brave archers. Gloucester's day is over, and--"
"I know what you would add, my lord," replied the forester, "but I say,No. This outlawry sits more easily on my shoulders than you can think.Heaven forbid that you should ever have to try our life; but, were suchthe case, you would soon grow fond of it. There is a charm in thesewild woods, and in our free existence amongst them, which leaves theparade of the city or the castle sadly tasteless in the comparison. No,my lord, I am well as I am, for the present. No man can call metraitor; for kings and princes have cast off my allegiance, and I havecast off their rule. Perhaps when happier days come back--whenEngland's wounds are healed--when justice and honour hold the sway, andpeace and liberty go hand in hand, I may reclaim my rights, my lord,and ask your voice to testify that the Outlaw of Sherwood was as justin his dealings, as true to his country, and as fearless in her defenceas any judge in his court, or statesman in the hall, or knight in thesaddle. But till then--good faith," he added, in a gayer tone, "I
livea merry life of it here, and am troubled with no remorse for the deedsI do under the green leaf of the wood. However, enough of myself, andas for your letters, you will find none at Nottingham. The sheriff isno friend of Simon de Montfort, and that the Earl of Leicester knows bythis time. I would wager, my lord, a pipe of Malvoisie to a flitch ofbacon, that if you go on to Nottingham, you will be a tarrier in thecastle for longer than you reckon."
"If so," replied Monthermer, "the Earl of Ashby is a prisoner there bythis time."
"Not so, my lord," said the outlaw, drily "the Earl of Ashby has hadother things to do."
"Why, I thought that but now," exclaimed the Earl, "you did not knowwhere our good friend was?"
"True," answered his companion, "but I know what waited him atNottingham, if he arrived there yesterday.--Besides, my good lord, hehas a friend at court. Richard de Ashby passed through Nottinghambefore him, was with the sheriff in close consultation for an hour, anddoubtless set forth duly, 'how good a subject the Earl is to the King,and how humble a servant to the Earl of Gloucester.'--Take care, mylord, that you are not betrayed, as well as deceived.--There is a viperunder your hand; and it may sting you."
"No--no--no!" said the old nobleman, shaking his head. "The Ashbys areincapable of treachery: proud and irascible they both are, father andson; but even in their pride there is no dishonour, though----"
"Though pride be the most dishonest of all our knave passions;"interrupted the outlaw, "ay, and the meanest, too! But I believe you,my good lord, they will not betray you, either father or son, but theywill betray themselves; and their roguish kinsman will betray you andthem every one. You judge, perhaps, that he came down but upon the lewderrand of carrying off a peasant girl, but his business in Barnsdalewas of a darker character than that. Prisoner as the King now is, andwatched as the Prince now seems, they have agents over all the land."
"But can you be sure," said the Earl--"can you prove that this Richardde Ashby is one of them? Base, I have always believed him to be; and Irecollect that while the feud existed between our two families, he didall in his power to keep it alive, and prevent the breach from everbeing healed--pandering, like all mean sycophants, to the fiercerpassions of their lords; but I ever judged him a petty scoundrel, fitonly to cheat at cross and pile, or accomplish the ruin of a milkmaid.I think not, Robin, that he has courage to deal with much greaterthings. Have you any proof of his treachery in this business?"
"Something I know, my lord," replied the outlaw, "and much more do Isuspect--let them take my counsel who like it. What will you have? Hewas first with Mortimer, and then with Gloucester; and then, making acircuit round, to seem as if he came from the side of Norfolk, hevisited Leicester at Northampton, and spent two days there, seeing theKing thrice, and the Prince as often. Thence he went back to London,was purveyed with a spy, one Richard Keen, a servant of the King's whofled from Lewes; and thus accompanied, he followed you to Pontefract."
"I will tax him with it in his kinsman's presence," said Monthermer."The good Lord of Ashby wants not sense and discrimination. He waseager for the business to be inquired into before, but the man's flightwith the light-o'-love girl of the inn broke off the investigation.Think you his master has really any share in that bad business? I leftthe poor man, her father, nearly broken-hearted."
"Share!" exclaimed the forester; "somewhat more than a share. She isnow his leman at Huntingdon. I had tidings this morning, and they arenow tasting together the fiery drop of joy which floats upon the deepdraughts of bitterness in the cup of vice. A few weeks will cloy him,and then her sorrows will begin; but if I lay my hands upon him, sohelp me the Blessed Virgin! as I will nail his ears to the door-postsof good John Greenly's house, and scourge him with bowstrings fromWakefield to Pontefract. But, to speak of what is more important, mylord--do you think the rogue filched any of your secrets?"
"No," replied the Earl--"no, many of the people did not come; HughBigod, too, was away; and, as is often the case with long-concertedmeetings, to settle matters of great moment, we waited for each other,and, in the end, the whole thing went to empty air. I could not butthink, however, that he strove hard to renew the breach between thehouse of Ashby and ourselves. With the father he did not succeed, butwith the son he seemed to make some progress; so much so, indeed, thatI was well pleased when this Sir Richard told us his purpose of goingon before to London. After he was gone, Alured grew somewhat placable;and when we parted company, Hugh went with the two lords, trying tosoothe and gain the younger one.--But here, Robin, what have we here?Why you have made the forest as gay as a May-day bride!"
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