Henry Gilbert - Robin Hood

by Robin Hood (Lit)

  It was done. Amid the shouts of triumph of the fierce men standing about, Little John hacked off the spurs from the heels of the two Wrangby lords, and then with a great roar of rageful glee they were hurried out amid the surging crowd, torches tossing their lurid light upon hard faces and gleaming eyes, whose usual good nature was turned to savagery for the moment.

  When the act of wild justice had been done, pitch and tar and oil were poured into every chamber of the castle, and torches were thrust in, and lighted straw heaped up. Then all fled forth and stood before the black walls, through whose slits the black and oily smoke began to curl. Leaping tongues of fire darted through the ropy reek and coiling wreathes, and soon, gathering power, the fire burst up through the floors of the great hall and the chambers above, and roared like a furious torrent to the dark sky. Great noises issued as the thick beams split, and as balk and timber, rafter and buttress fell, the flames and sparks leaped higher until the light shone far and wide over the country. Shepherds minding their sheep far away on the distant fells looked and looked, and would not believe their eyes; then crossed themselves and muttered a prayer of thankfulness that somehow the Evil Hold of Wrangby was at length ruining in fire. Bands of plunderers from the king's evil army, as they streamed across the highlands of the Peak, or on the hills of Yorkshire, saw the distant glare, and did not know then that one of the blackest strongholds of their callous king and his evil lords was going up in fire at the hands of those who, long and cruelly oppressed, had risen at last and gained their freedom.

  Next morning a smoking shell of shattered and blackened stones was all that was left of the strong castle that had been the sign of wrong for at least two generations. A white smoke rose from the red-hot furnace within the walls which still stood; but so rent and torn and seamed with fire were the stones that never again could they be made fit for habitation.

  Robin rode forth from the shadow of the Mark Oak where he and his army had passed the night, and looked at the smoking ruins and the two stiff gallows which stood before, on each of which hung, turning round and round, the bodies of the evil Baldwin and de Belame.

  Doffing his steel cap Robin bent his head, and in silence gave up a prayer to the Virgin, thanking her for the help she had so amply granted him. His men gathered round him, and taking off their helms prayed likewise.

  From over the plain came a crowd of peasants _ some running, some walking slowly, half disbelieving their own eyes. Some among them came up to Robin, and old men and women, their faces and hands worn and lined with toil, seized his hands and kissed them, or touched his feet or the hem of his coat of mail with their lips. A young mother lifted up the baby she held in her arms, and with tears in her eyes told the child to look at Robin Hood, "the man who had slain the evil lords and burned their den!"

  "Master," said Rafe of the Bill, "go not far from us, lest some one as evil as those lords that now swing there shall come and possess again these lands and build another hold of fiends to torture this land and its poor folk."

  "By the sweet Mother of Heaven," said Robin Hood, and held up his right hand in the oath gesture, "while I live no one shall possess these lands who ruleth them not in justice and mercy as I would have him rule them!"

  "Amen!" came in deep response from all about him.

  CHAPTER XI.

  OF THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD

  Never again, after the death of his wife Marian, did Robin Hood leave the greenwood. The lands at Malaset were taken by a distant kinsman of the Earl FitzWalter, who ruled them well and treated his villeins and yeomen kindly, with due regard to the customs of the manor.

  Many of those who had been outlaws with Robin and had become his tenants at Malaset refused to go back there, but once having tasted again the wild free life of the greenwood, kept with Robin; and the numbers of his band swelling by reason of the cruelties and slaying, sacking and plundering by the tyrannical king, they eagerly fell in with Robin's proposal to harass the royal army. Therefore, when Wrangby Castle had been leveled with the ground, so that not one stone stood upon another, Robin fared north and taking to the woods and waste places, hung upon the flanks of the marauding Flemings, Brabanters, Saxons and Poitevins who composed the king's army. Many a raiding party, engaged in some dreadful deed of plunder and torture of knights or yeomen, did Robin and his brave men fall upon, and with their great war arrows destroy or rout them utterly, thus earning the gratitude of many a knight and dame, villein and franklin, who ever after held the name of Robin Hood in special reverence.

  When at last King John died at Newark by poison, and his son Henry was crowned and acknowledged king by all the great barons and lords of the realm, Robin took possession of his old quarters in Barnisdale and Sherwood. The land was still full of oppression and wrongdoing, for the king was but a boy; some of the evil lords refused to give up the castles they had seized during the war between John and his barons, and having long lived by pillaging their neighbors, would not now cease their habits of living by plundering and spoiling those weaker than themselves. Whenever, therefore, Robin had word, by a breathless villein or weeping woman, who came begging for his aid, that some evil deed was on foot, he issued with his chosen band from his forest lairs, and so stealthily he passed through the land, and so suddenly his arrows flew among the wrongdoers, that it was seldom he failed to beat back the rascally lords and their companies of thieves, besides giving them fear of his name and of his clothyard arrows which never missed their mark, and that could pierce the thickest chain-mail.

  By good hap the councilors of the young king gave the lands of Wrangby into the keeping of a just lord, a kinsman of Earl de Warenne, who treated his villeins and tenants with mercy, so that soon the memory of the evil days of oppression and cruelty under Sir Isenbart de Belame became so faint that it seemed almost as if they never could have been.

  But in other parts of the kingdom oppression and misery still stalked through the land. Insolent barons sent parties of armed men to seize the young king's lands in various places, and either put his tenants to death or chased them away into poverty; weaker neighbors were ever in fear of being attacked and slain, or their lands wrested from them, and under cover of this disorder robbery and extortion were committed daily. Indeed, bands of highway robbers wearing the livery of great lords infested the forest roads and lonely ways in many parts of the country, ready to fall upon merchants traveling with their wares, or even upon poor villeins or franklins carrying their goods to market.

  One day Robin was with Little John and Scarlet on the borders of Sherwood and Barnisdale. They were waiting for news of a party of evil men who had begun to haunt that part of the country, and who were in the pay of Sir Roger of Doncaster. This was the knight who with some ten men-at-arms had managed to escape from the fight before Evil Hold. Robin knew that Sir Roger's aim was to lay in ambush for him one day and to kill him, but until now the outlaws had not actually come into touch with the marauders.

  They sat in a small glade which was screened all round by thick bushes of holly, but from their place of vantage they could see through the leaves up and down the two main tracks or roads through the forest. By and by there came the sound of a scolding squirrel and Robin responded, for this was a sign between the scouts. In a few moments Ket the Trow came into the glade and went up to Robin.

  "Master," he said, "I and Hob have watched the manorhouse, at Syke, of Roger of Doncaster. He and his men left at dawn this morning and have gone toward the Stone Houses by Barnisdale Four Wents. I think they lie in wait there to fall upon the bishop's convoy of food and gear which goes today from Wakefield Abbey to Lincoln."

  "Up, John," said Robin, "and thou Scarlet, and do thou go quickly to the Stane Lea and take all the men thou canst find and try thy wits against that robber knight and his hedge-knifers. As for me, I will follow thee anon."

  With instant obedience Little John and Scarlet started off, and soon were lost in the winding paths of the forest. Ket stood still and waited for further ins
tructions.

  "Ket," said Robin, at length, "do thou go to Will the Bowman, and bid him bring the score of men he hath watching with him, and scatter them across the road and forest tracks from Doncaster hitherward. If thou seest thy brother Hob, send him to me."

  With a gesture of his hand that showed he understood, Ket turned and vanished into the forest, wondering a little at his orders. If, thought he, Sir Roger's men were going northwest to Barnisdale, and Robin had sent his men to waylay them, why did he wish to have the southern road from Doncaster watched? Ket was quick of wit, however, and he thought: was it because Robin believed that Sir Roger's journey toward Barnisdale was a feint, and that another party would be sent south in the attempt to seize or slay Robin. He remembered that very often his master's keen brains knew more than any of his scouts could tell him.

  When Ket left him, Robin went out of the glade into the road and began to walk under the leafy boughs. When he had gone about half a mile toward the south he came to a small path which ran through the trees at the side, and looking down this he saw a low-browed man, with a cruel look, dressed like a yeoman, standing looking furtively up and down the narrow path. In his hand he bore a bow, and a quiver of arrows hung beside him.

  "Good morrow, good fellow," said Robin. "Whither away?"

  "Good morrow to you, good woodman," replied the yeoman, who was taken somewhat by surprise at Robin's quiet approach, and his eyes glanced here and there, and did not look straight at Robin. "I ha' lost my way through the forest. Canst thou tell me my way to Roche Abbey?"

  Robin seemed to look at him carelessly as he replied:

  "Ay, I can lead thee into thy road. Thou hast come far out of thy way."

  "Ay, 'tis easy in this pesky forest to go astray," said the yeoman grumblingly.

  "When didst thou find thou wast wandering out of thy road?" asked Robin.

  "Oh, but an hour or two," was the reply. "I was told at Balby that my road lay through the hamlet of Scatby, but hours have I walked as it seemeth, and never a roof do I see in these wild woods."

  Robin laughed. He could have told the man that he must have been wandering since the previous midday, when he had seen him through the leaves skulking like a wild cat through the forest ways, as if wishful to spy on someone, but desiring not to be seen himself.

  "'Tis but a mile or two more thou must go," replied Robin, "and thou wilt strike the right road. But by the bow thou bearest it would seem that thou shouldst be a good archer?"

  "Ay," said the man with a crafty look, "I am as good a bowman _ and better _ than many a braggart thief who ranges these woods and shoots the king's deer."

  "Then let us have some pastime," said Robin, "and see who is the better archer of us two."

  "I am with thee," said the man, and drew an arrow from the quiver beside him. His eyes looked narrowly at Robin and there was an evil glint in them.

  Robin went to a hazel bush and cut down two straight hazel wands, which he peeled in their upper parts, so as to show up more plainly. One of these he stuck in the ground where they stood, and from the top he hung a rough garland of dogwood leaves, which were now turning red in the autumn, and therefore stood out against the white of the hazel.

  "Now," said Robin, "let us measure off fifty paces. I will set this other wand at the place from whence we shoot." While doing all this Robin did not turn his face from the other man, who all the time had had his arrow half-notched upon his string, as if eager to begin the shooting. He laughed as they walked side by side measuring off the distance.

  "'Tis a plaguey hard shoot thou wouldst have us try," he said with a growl; "I am used to bigger marks than these new-fangled rods and wreaths."

  Robin took no notice, but went on counting until he had completed the fifty paces, and the man, almost as if against his will, sullenly walked with him. Robin bade the man shoot first at the mark, but he said he would rather Robin had the first try. Robin took two arrows from his quiver and shot one at the mark. The arrow went through the garland, about two fingers' span from the wand.

  "I like not this way of shooting," growled the low-bred man. "'Tis such shooting as thou seest silly squires and village fools use."

  Robin made no reply, and the man shot at the mark. As was to be expected he missed the garland altogether, and his arrow went wide.

  "Thou needest more practice, good friend," said Robin. "Trust me, 'tis well worth thy while to test thy skill at a fine mark such as this. 'Tis no credit to creep up and shoot on top of thy game from behind a tree _ often a long shot is the most honest. I will try again."

  So saying, Robin took careful aim, and this time his arrow went true to the mark, for it struck the thin wand and split it in twain.

  "'Twas not fair shooting!" cried the other in a rage. "A flaw of wind did carry thy bolt against the wand!"

  "Nay, good fellow," said Robin in a quiet voice, "thou art a fool to talk so. 'Twas a clean shot, as thou knowest well. Do thou go now and take this wand here and set it up in place of that which I have split. I will cut a new one and we will set it up at thirty paces, so that thou mayest have a little practice ere I lead thee on thy way."

  With muttered words and dark looks the rascal took the wand which stood where they had been shooting, and went away with slow steps toward the split mark fifty paces away. When he had got some twenty paces he turned his head quickly and saw that Robin was apparently busy at a hazel thicket, searching for a straight stick. Swiftly the rogue put an arrow to his string and shouted as the bolt left his bow:

  "Thou art the mark I seek, thou wolf's-head!"

  Robin seemed to fall into the bush as if struck, and with a cruel laugh the man stepped nearer as if to make sure that he had really slain the outlaw for whom he had been spying so long. He could see the legs sticking out stiffly from among the hazels and he grinned with delight. Then, putting his fingers to his lips, he whistled long and shrill, and came forward at a run to gloat over his victim.

  But suddenly with a jerk the dead man arose, and in one hand was the arrow which the would-be murdered had shot. It had missed Robin, who, however, had pretended to be struck; and the bolt had caught in the thicket before him. Already it was notched to the bow which Robin bore in his other hand. The man came to a sudden standstill, a cry on his white lips.

  "Thou bungling hedge-knifer!" said Robin with a scornful laugh. "Even the mark at which thou hast been loosing thy arrow these two days thou canst not strike, and that at twenty paces! Ay, thou canst run, but thy own arrow shall slay thee!"

  The man had turned, and with swift steps was running this way and that from side to side of the path, so as to confuse Robin's aim.

  Robin drew his bow to its utmost, and paused for one moment; then the string twanged with a great sound and the arrow sped. The man gave a yell, jumped three feet clear up into the air, then fell flat upon the ground, the arrow sticking from his back.

  At the same moment Robin heard the sound of breaking branches beside him, and hardly had he thrown down his bow when out of the hazel bush beside him leaped a strange figure. For a moment as Robin took a step back to give him time to draw his sword, he was startled, so weird was the figure. It seemed as if it was a brown horse on its hind legs which dashed toward him. The great white teeth were bared as if to tear him, and the mane rolled behind, tossing in the fury of attack.

  Then Robin laughed. The horse's skin contained a man; in one hand was a naked sword; in the other a buckler. It was Sir Guy of Gisborne, who, with the fire of hatred in his eyes, now dashed upon the outlaw.

  "Ha, ha! Guy of Gisborne, thou false knight!" cried Robin mockingly. "Thou hast come thyself at last, hast thou? For years thou hast sent thy spies, thy ambushers, thy secret murderers to slay me, and now thou hast come to do the deed thyself _ if thou canst!"

  Guy of Gisborne said no word in reply. Fierce hatred glared from his eyes, and he rushed with the fury of a wolf upon his foe. Robin had no buckler, but he had that which was almost as great a guard; for while the othe
r beat full of rage upon Robin's blade, the outlaw was cool of brain and keen of eye.

  For some time naught was heard but the clang of sword upon sword as stroke met guard. Round and round they trod in this fierce dance that should end in death for one of them, each with his eyes bent upon the keen looks of the other. Suddenly Robin's sword leaped over the guard of the other's sword, and his point pierced and ripped the horse's hide and cut into the shoulder of Sir Guy.

  "Thy luck hath fled, Guy of Gisborne!" said Robin in triumph. "Thou didst 'scape with thy life once from thy burning house in that horse's hide, and thou didst think it would bring thee luck against my sword point."

  "Thou wolf's-head! Thou hedge-robber!" cried Guy of Gisborne. "'Twas but a scratch, but my good sword shall yet let thy life out!"

  With a double feint, swift and fierce, Guy thrust under Robin's sword arm. His point cut through Robin's tunic of Lincoln green and a hot spark seemed to burn the outlaw's side. Guy's point had wounded him slightly. It did not check Robin for an instant. Swiftly as a lightning stroke the outlaw lunged forward, and ere Guy could recover Robin's sword had pierced his breast. The cruel knight dropped his sword, staggered back, spun round once, and then fell heavily to the ground, where he lay still as a stone.