Robin Hood - Paul Creswick (the best motivational books .TXT) 📗

had sworn within himself to set his life to win that, for his father's happiness.

Ay: but surely in the winning of Broadweald there might chance smaller prizes, which properly he might yield for a smile from this fair maid? Or again, might not he battle for the two together?

"Robin, Robin!" He heard old Montfichet's voice, calling from the shadow of the porch. "Where are you, child? I did not espy you at the bridge. Come here, boy, and let me tell to you something of sorrow. There has befallen a sad mischance to your father at Locksley——"

"Sir, sir," cried poor Robin, waking suddenly, "tell me not that he is dead!" He sprang hastily from his grey steed and ran towards the Squire.

"No, not that."

"Ah, but my heart forewarns me. He has been hurt by some beast? It is the season when the deer are wild."

"Master Fitzooth has been attacked by a great stag near by your home. That is all we know of it, child; and I give it you plainly at once, that you may hear the worst. Your mother has already gone to him, with the clerk and a full two score of men. For the captain of the foresters has kindly joined forces with mine own fellows; so that no further harm may befall."

"I'll follow her, sir. Give me leave to go."

"'Twere wiser to wait till morning, boy. What could you do now? Mayhap we fret ourselves too much, as 'tis. But you shall go, with Warrenton and your esquire, when morning is here. Ay, and I will come too; and we will bring with us the most skilful leech in Nottingham. I have already sent a messenger to him, an hour since, so soon as the dame had gone."

"I like not my mother having been sent for, sir. That shows me that the hurt is deadly. To think that I was playing so foolishly at the moment when I might have been of use to him!"

So rudely ended Robin's dreaming.

In the morning they set out for Locksley; the Squire with the leech, and six mules bearing such delicacies as old Gamewell's generous mind could think upon. Warrenton headed a full score of men, for fear of the outlaws; and they took a litter with them to bring Master Fitzooth to Gamewell.

The dame met them at the latch-gate which Robin knew so well. Her face was deathly pale and her mouth quivered as she tried to frame a welcome to them.

"Mother!" cried Robin, in anguished voice, running to her; and there was no need for further speech. In that one cry and in the expression of her mute, answering face, the truth was told and understood. No use to fight for Broadweald now; were it his a hundred times over, Robin could never do that with it which he in all his boyhood had planned. Hugh Fitzooth, Ranger of the Forest of Locksley, was dead.

The good Clerk of Copmanhurst, who had appeared from within the cottage, told the story of Fitzooth's death. Fitzooth had been alone when the huge wild stag had attacked him; was near his death when discovered by two of his men. He had regained consciousness only at the sound of his wife's voice; had kissed her with fainting breath; and, having labored to send Robin a message of love and pride in him, had gradually faded in spirit until the dawn.

It was an unhappy ending to a life soured by disappointment; yet somehow this man had managed to win a way into the hearts of many people. The few villagers of Locksley all had their tender word or humble tribute of affection to offer the dame and her sorrowing son; and thus much of the edge of their grief was blunted. Until the interment the priest stayed with them, and so did old Gamewell, who paid all the fees and expenses inevitable in consequence of Fitzooth's decease.

Afterward, the Squire would have them go back to Gamewell with him; but Robin had determined to ask for his father's post. This bitter time made the lad into a man suddenly. It was the evening of the day when they had laid Fitzooth to rest in the little churchyard of Locksley that Montfichet returned again to talk of his plan of making Robin his heir.

The old man argued reasonably and well; and Robin listened in silence until he was done. Then, "Very generously and indulgently have you talked with us, sir," said Robin, "and sure thing it is that we owe you such debt as I can never hope to pay. Yet I cannot feel that 'twould be a man's part to live an idle life. Surely I should do something, sir, to win the right to wear your name? Moreover, I must not forget that there is another—nay, hear me, sir—thine own son, whose birthright I should be stealing away from him."

"Boy," interrupted old Gamewell, on a sudden resolution, "will you share Gamewell with me as Geoffrey's brother, then? If so be this way out of it will meet your objections, I'll sink my prejudice. Geoffrey shall go halves with you."

"That were the course nearer to my heart, sir; and yet not all that I would desire. I have no right to talk to you so openly; but the matter is, in a manner, forced upon me."

"It is agreed then, Robin?" cried the Squire, eagerly. "And so you will take your mother's olden name and become Montfichet of Gamewell?"

"I would rather serve the King here for one year, at least," said Robin, arguing still. "You might think better on't, sir. Let me try my strength or weakness; and find out myself for myself. My father would have wished me to fight my own way in the world."

"The lad speaks soothly, Squire," said the clerk, interposing, "and I would counsel you to agree to his notions. Moreover, he has not yet finished his studyings with myself in the Latin tongue."

"Leave me young Stuteley and Warrenton, sir, and your blessing, and let me win bread for my mother and myself for twelve months from to-day. Then, if I may, and you wish, I'll come humbly to you." Robin went over to him. "And believe me always as being very grateful, sir. I would that I might not seem obstinate in this."

"Have it so, then, Robin. I'll bear your letter to Monceux myself, and rally him about the arrow which you won!"

"Will the Sheriff appoint me, then?" asked Robin, a trifle disconcerted.

"He will advise the King in the matter. 'Tis but a form. The post of Ranger of Locksley is yours, merely for the asking. Who could gainsay your right to it? Give me the letter; and I will be your messenger. I go to-morrow to Gamewell, and will journey to Nottingham the next day. Now, since I understand that this holy man would wish to see you alone, and I would like to talk with your mother, I'll leave you, boy. Count me always as friend, Robin Fitzooth Montfichet."

He added the last word half-enquiringly, half-lovingly; and twinkled to the clerk to see how Robin might take it. But the lad made no reply beyond kissing the old man's fingers very respectfully and tenderly; and with a sigh, old George of Gamewell offered his arm to the dame, who had silently listened throughout the discussion.

Left alone, the clerk approached Robin. "Now, boy, what I have to say is soon told. Know then that I have learned of your adventures with the Scarlet Knight; and that he is in league with Will o' th' Green. Further, I have had it whispered to me that he is none other than Geoffrey of Montfichet. It matters not how this knowledge came to me; I do but seek to warn you to tread gently and warily in the days now before you. So far, life has been kind to you, and surely there is no reason why you should not prosper very exceedingly. There is for you a good friend in Gamewell's Squire."

"And one also at Copmanhurst, father."

"Assuredly, boy. But I am a poor anchorite and one unable to help you, save by friendly counsel. Take heed not to touch Montfichet too nearly in the matter of his son," added he, warningly; "he is a strange man, and will brook no meddling."

"I would not see Geoffrey wronged, father, not even by Robin of Locksley," said Robin, vehemently.

The clerk smiled at him. "You may coax the Squire, an you will, boy," said he, twinkling; "for I do think that one may achieve more that way than by any other. But be careful not to let him see that you would lead him; and, above all, provoke him not. Montfichet is an obstinate man. His heart prompts him to forgive Geoffrey; and doubtless he could get the ban removed from off the young man's head. But the Squire will not readily forego his oath. So now, rest content that he will share Gamewell with Geoffrey and yourself, and do not let him know that once you did deceive him."

"Deceive him, father?"

"Did you not go out secretly to meet the Scarlet Knight, boy? And do you not now hide from Gamewell that his son is in hiding with Will o' th' Green? Be prudent and tread no more in this path. Peace be with you, Robin Fitzooth; and discretion also."

He bade Robin good night, and set out towards his lonely cell near St. Dunstan's shrine; leaving the other perplexed and distressed at his words.

The first clouds on Robin's horizon were appearing.

CHAPTER X

Squire George left them next morning. He bade Warrenton stay at Locksley, and charged young Stuteley to let him know if the dame or his master should want for aught. Then, having pressed some money upon his sister to meet their necessities, he bade them affectionate farewell.

He took Robin's letter to Monceux, and added his own request to it, never doubting that so ordinary a matter as this would be long a-doing. The Rangership of Locksley Woods was Robin's by every right: for the house and garden had been given to Hugh Fitzooth in perpetuity by the King. So at least they all had understood.

Master Monceux, lord Sheriff of Nottingham, took the letters and read them with a thin smile; then bore them to his daughter's chamber, and laid them before her. "Truly the enemies of our King are not lacking in audacity," sneered Master Monceux, when Mistress Monceux had mastered the scrolls.

"What will you do?" asked she, curiously.

"This is the young archer who won my arrow," remarked the Sheriff. "Robin Fitzooth of Locksley. Observe that his father has been killed by one of the King's deer; like as not whilst he was attempting to snare it. His son asks now for the post: this son who shoots with a peacocked arrow to win my prize."

"Say you so? Then this boy is of the outlaws of Sherwood?" Her thin lips parted over her white teeth in an evil doubt, as she asked her father: "How do you know that the arrow was winged with a peacock's feather? Did you see it yourself?"

"John Ford brought it to me."

"Ford is a very untrustworthy knave. I would that some other of the foresters had told you."

The Sheriff was vexed at this. "I have no hesitation in the matter, child. But give heed, for now I must either agree to this recommendation of my lord Montfichet, or refuse it because I have already appointed some other to the place. Can you not suggest a man to me?"

"Let it be one distasteful both to Montfichet and to this boastful youth," said the demoiselle Monceux, eagerly. "Send Ford, or one of the scullions from our kitchen, that they may know our contempt for them.