The Baron, with clenched teeth and unable to utter a word, turned abruptly, mounted his horse, and without any orders to his men galloped away with all haste.

  The soldiers, carried away by so praiseworthy an example, imitated their Chief and followed in his steps.

  “May the devil catch thee in his claws!” cried Little John, furiously; “but thy cowardice shall not save thee; my arrows carry far enow to strike thee dead.”

  “Shoot not, John,” said Robin, holding his friend by the arm. “Thou canst see that by all the laws of nature this man hath not long to live; why then hasten his death by a few days? Leave him to his remorse, to his loneliness cut off from all family ties, a prey to his malevolent helplessness.”

  “Hark ye, Robin, I cannot let the old thief save himself thus; let me give him a lesson, as reminder of his sojourn in the Forest. I will not kill him, I give thee my word.”

  “So be it, then; draw, but swiftly, or he will be out of sight round the bend of the road.”

  John let fly an arrow, and, judging by the way in which the Baron bounded in his saddle and the haste he made to draw the arrow from the wound, it was impossible to doubt that it would be long ere he would mount a horse again or be able to sit at ease in a chair.

  Little John shook hands warmly with his rescuer. Will asked Robin to give them an account of his doings, and the latter hours of this memorable day slipped merrily away.

  CHAPTER XI

  Baron Fitz-Alwine looked upon Robin as the curse of his existence, and his insatiable desire to avenge himself liberally for all the humiliations he had suffered at the young man’s hands did not lose one whit of its intensity. Beaten on every occasion by his enemy, the Baron returned to the charge, swearing, both before and after the attack, to exterminate the whole band of Outlaws.

  When the Baron found himself forced to recognise that it was quite impossible to vanquish Robin by force, he resolved to have recourse to cunning. This new plan of conduct having been long meditated, he hoped that he had at last discovered a means of decoying Robin into his snares. Without losing a moment, the Baron sent for a rich merchant of Nottingham and confided to him his plans, recommending him the while to keep the most profound silence regarding them.

  This man, who was of a feeble and irresolute character, was easily led to share in the Baron’s hatred for one whom he described as a highway robber.

  On the morrow of his interview with Lord Fitz-Alwine, the merchant, true to the promise he had given the irascible old man, gathered together in his house the principal citizens of the town, and proposed to them to go with him to ask the Sheriff to establish a public shooting match, where the men of Nottinghamshire might try their skill against those of Yorkshire.

  “The two Counties are not a little jealous of each other,” added the merchant, “and for the honour of the town, I should be happy to offer our neighbours an opportunity of proving their skill at archery; or, better still, an occasion to set forth the incontestable superiority of our able marksmen. And in order to equalise the match between the rival parties, we would hold the encounter on the borders of the two Counties, the victor’s prize being an arrow with silver barb and feathers of gold.”

  The citizens, called together by the Baron’s ally, received the suggestion with a generous heartiness, and, in company with the merchant, they went to ask Lord Fitz-Alwine’s permission to announce an archery competition between the rival Counties.

  The old man, delighted at the prompt success of the first part of his project, concealed his secret satisfaction, and, with an air of supreme indifference, gave the required consent; even adding that, if his presence would give any pleasure or be of any advantage to the success of the festivities, it would be both a pleasure and a duty to him to preside over the games.

  The citizens cried unanimously that the presence of their liege Lord would be a heaven-sent blessing, and they seemed as happy at receiving the promise of the Baron’s presence as if the latter had been bound to them by the closest ties. They left the Castle with light hearts, and made the Baron’s condescension known to their follow citizens with enthusiastic gestures, and eyes and mouths agape with astonishment. Poor fellows, they were so little used to politeness from a Norman Lord.

  A proclamation, learnedly worded, announced that a match would be thrown open to the inhabitants of the Counties of Nottingham and York. The day was fixed, the spot chosen between the forest of Barnsdale and the village of Mansfield. As great care had been taken to spread the news of this public joust to every corner of the two Counties concerned, it reached Robin Hood’s ears. The young man at once resolved to enter the lists and sustain the honour of Nottingham. From further information which he received, Robin learned that Baron Fitz-Alwine would preside over the games. This condescension, so little in harmony with the old man’s morose character, explained to Robin the secret end to which the noble Lord’s wishes tended. “Oh, indeed,” said our friend to himself, “we must needs attempt this venture with every necessary precaution for a valorous defence.”

  The eve of the day on which the contest was to take place, Robin assembled his men, and announced to them his intention of bearing off the archery prize for the honour of the town of Nottingham.

  “My lads,” he added, “hearken to me. Baron Fitz-Alwine will preside over the games, and there must certainly be some particular reason why he should be so anxious to please the yeomen. I think I know the cause it is to attempt my capture. Therefore I shall take with me to the range one hundred and forty companions. I will enter six of them as competitors for the prize; the others will be dispersed among the crowd in such manner as to re-assemble at the first call in case of treachery. Hold your arms ready, and prepare for a desperate combat.”

  Robin Hood’s orders were faithfully carried out, and at the appointed hour his men, in little groups, took the road to Mansfield, and arrived without hindrance at the place, where a crowd was already assembled.

  Robin Hood, Little John, Will Scarlett, Much, and five others of the Merrie Men were to take part in the contest; they were all differently dressed, and hardly spoke to one another, in order to avoid any danger of being recognised.

  The place chosen for the archery was a large glade situated on the borders of Barnsdale Forest, and a short distance from the main road. An immense crowd gathered from the neighbouring country, and pressed noisily into the enclosure, in the centre of which were placed the butts. A platform had been erected opposite the shooting range; this was for the Baron, on whom devolved the honour of judging the shooting and awarding the prize.

  The Baron soon arrived, accompanied by an escort of soldiers, fifty of his men having already mingled with the crowd, clad in yeomen’s dress, with orders to arrest any suspicious characters, and take them before the Baron.

  These precautions taken, Lord Fitz-Alwine had hopes that Robin Hood, whose adventurous nature courted danger, would come to the joust alone, and he would have the satisfaction of taking a revenge, for which he had waited beyond the term of human patience.

  The match began; three men from Nottingham grazed the target, each of them touched the mark without reaching the centre. After them came three yeomen from Yorkshire, who were equally successful. Will Scarlett presented himself in his turn, and he pierced the centre of the mark with the greatest ease.

  A shout of trimph greeted Will’s prowess, and Little John took his place. The young man sent his arrow into the hole made by William. Then, even before the range-keeper had had time to take it out, Robin Hood’s arrow broke it in pieces and took its place.

  The enraptured crowd became violently excited, and the men of Nottingham laid big wagers.

  The three best archers of Yorkshire came forward, and with steady hands, hit the bull’s-eye.

  It was now the turn of the Northerners to cry victory, and accept the wagers of the citizens of Nottingham.

  All this time the Baron, but little interested in the success of either one or other of the Counties, was attentively watching the archers. Robin Hood had attracted his attention; but as his sight had for some time been getting feeble, it was impossible for him to recognise his enemy’s features.

  Much and the Merrie Men selected by Robin to compete touched the mark without difficulty; four yeomen followed them, and succeeded equally well.

  The greater number of the archers were so well used to shooting at a target, that it appeared as though the victory would be to none in particular, and it was decided to set up wands, and choose seven men out of the victors on either side.

  The citizens of Nottingham chose Robin Hood and his Merrie Men to sustain the honour of their county, while the inhabitants of Yorkshire took as their champion the yeomen who had proved the best archers.

  The yeomen began. The first split the wand, the second grazed it, and the third skimmed it so closely that it appeared impossible that their adversaries would be able to surpass their skill.

  Will Scarlett advanced, and taking tip his bow, he shot underhand, and broke the willow wand into two pieces.

  “Hurrah! for Nottinghamshire,” cried the citizens of Nottingham, throwing their caps into the air, without in the least considering how impossible it would be to recover them.

  New wands were prepared. Robin’s men, from Little John to the least of the archers, split them easily. Robin’s turn came; he shot three arrows at the wands with such rapidity that, had it not been seen that the wands were shattered, it would have been impossible to believe in such skill.

  Several fresh attempts were made, but Robin triumphed over all his adversaries, although they were all tried bowmen, and it began to be said that Robin Hood himself could not compete with the yeoman in the red doublet, for it was thus the crowd had named Robin.

  This supposition, so dangerous to the young man, soon became an affirmation; and the report circulated that the victor was none other than Robin Hood.

  The Yorkshiremen, smarting under defeat, hastened to assert that the match was not an equal one between them and a man of Robin Hood’s strength. They complained of the slur cast upon their honour as archers, of the loss of their money (the most weighty consideration with them), and they attempted, no doubt with a hope of eluding their wagers, to turn the discussion into a quarrel.

  As soon as the Merrie Men became aware of their adversaries’ ill-will, they rallied together, and formed, though without apparent intention, a group of eighty-six men.

  While the seeds of strife were being sown among the wagerers, Robin Hood was borne to the Sheriff amid the joyous acclamations of the citizens of Nottingham.

  “Way for the victor! Hurrah for the skilful archer!” cried two hundred voices. “He is the winner of the prize.”

  Robin Hood, with eyes modestly cast down, stood before Lord Fitz-Alwine in the most respectful attitude.

  The Baron stared hard to try and descry the young man’s features. A certain resemblance of figure, perhaps even of dress, led the Baron to believe that the invincible Outlaw stood before him; but torn between conflicting emotions of doubt and a faint certitude, he could not show too great precipitation without compromising the success of his plan. He held out the arrow to Robin, hoping to recognise the young man by the sound of his voice. But Robin cheated his hopes; he took the arrow, and bowed politely as he stuck it in his belt.

  A moment passed; Robin pretended to move off. Then, as the Baron, desperate at seeing him thus escape, was about to take decisive measures; he raised his head, and looking full at the old man, said with a laugh “Words fail me to express the value which I attach to the present you have just given me, my excellent friend. I shall return with a heart full of gratitude to the green trees of my fair dwelling-place, and there I will treasure with care this precious token of friendship. I wish you a very good day, noble Lord of Nottingham.”

  “Stop, stop!” roared the Baron “Soldiers, do your duty! That man is Robin Hood. Seize him!”

  “Miserable coward!” returned Robin. “You proclaimed that the game was public, open to all, destined for the amusements of every one without exception and without fear.”

  “An Outlaw hath no rights,” said the Baron; “thou wast not included in the appeal to all good citizens. Now then, soldiers, seize the robber.”

  “I will slay the first who advanceth,” cried Robin, in a stentorian voice, directing his bow toward the fellow who approached him. But at sight of his menacing attitude, the man drew back, and disappeared into the crowd.

  Robin wound his horn, and his Merrie Men, prepared to sustain a bloody combat, advanced quickly to protect him. Stepping back into the midst of his men, he ordered them to bend their bows and retreat slowly, for the Baron’s soldiers were too numerous to make it possible to fight against them without risking much bloodshed.

  The Baron precipitated himself before his men, and in a furious voice commanded them to arrest the Outlaws. The soldiers prepared to obey, and the Yorkshiremen, irritated by their defeat and exasperated by the loss of their money in the wagers they had just made, joined the Baron’s men in pursuing the Foresters. But the citizens of Nottingham owed Robin Hood too great a debt of friendship and gratitude to leave him helpless at the mercy of the soldiers and their Lord. They opened a way for the Merrie Men, and, saluting them with friendly acclamation, reclosed it again behind them.

  Unhappily, Robin Hood’s adherents were neither numerous enough nor strong enough to protect his discreet flight for any length of time; they were obliged to break their ranks, and the men-at-arms gained the road along which the Foresters had fled.

  Then began a desperate chase. From time to time the Foresters faced about and sent a volley of arrows at the soldiers, who retaliated as well as they were able, and in spite of the ravages made in their ranks, courageously continued the pursuit.

  After this exchange of hostilities had lasted an hour, Little John, who was marching at the head of the Foresters with Robin, stopped suddenly, and said to his young Chief

  “My good friend, my hour is come; I am grievously wounded, my strength faileth me, I cannot keep up the pace.”

  “What!” cried Robin; “thou art wounded?”

  “Yea,” replied John, “in the knee; and I have lost so much blood in the last half-hour that my strength faileth me. I cannot stand on my feet.” And as he spoke, John sank to the ground.

  “Great Heavens!” cried Robin, kneeling beside his brave comrade. “John, good John, take courage; try to rouse thyself and lean upon me. I am not tired, and will support thy steps. Only a few minutes more, and we shall be in safety. Let me bind up thy wound, it will give thee great relief.”

  “Nay, Robin, ‘tis useless,” replied John, in a weak voice; “my leg is almost paralysed; ‘tis impossible for me to move. Do not stay. Abandon a useless wretch who only asks for death.”

  “I abandon thee!” cried Robin Hood. “Thou dost know that I am incapable of so cruel an action.”

  “It would not be in the least a cruel action, Robin, but a duty. Thou must answer to God for the lives of these brave men who have given themselves, body and soul, to thee. Leave me here, therefore, and if thou lovest me, if thou hast ever loved me, do not let that wicked Baron find me alive; plunge thy hunting-knife into my heart, that I may die like an honest and brave Saxon. Hearken to my prayer, Robin, and kill me; thou wilt spare me cruel sufferings and the unhappiness of again seeing our enemies; they are so cowardly, these Normans, that they would take a delight in insulting me in my last moments.”

  “Come, John,” replied Robin, much affected, “do not ask me anything so impossible. Thou knowest well that I would not leave thee to die helpless and away from me; thou knowest that I would sacrifice mine own life and the lives of my men to preserve thine. Thou knowest, further, that far from abandoning thee, I would shed my last drop of blood to defend thee. When I fall, John, I trust that it will be at thy side, and then we shall depart for the next world with hands and hearts united as they have ever been here below.”

  “We will fight and die beside thee, if Heaven withholds its aid,” said Will, embracing his cousin; “and thou shalt see that there are still brave men in the world. My friends,” he continued, turning to the Foresters, who had come to a halt, “here is your friend, your comrade, mortally wounded; do you think that we should abandon him to the vengeance of the wretches who pursue us?”

  “No! no! an hundred times no!” cried the Merrie Men, with one accord. “Let us surround him and die in his defence.”

  “Allow me,” said the vigorous Much, advancing. “It seemeth useless to risk our lives without a cause. John is only wounded in the knee, he will therefore bear being carried without fear of losing blood. I will take him on my shoulders and carry him as long as my legs will carry me.”

  “When you fail, Much,” said Will, “I will take your place, and another after me. Is it not so?”

  “Yea! yea!” replied the gallant Foresters.

  In spite of John’s attempt at resistance, Much raised him with a strong hand, and with Robin’s assistance took the wounded man on his back, after which the fugitives continued quickly on their way. This forced halt had enabled the soldiers to gain on the Foresters, and they now came in sight. The Merrie Men sent a flight of arrows among them, and redoubled their pace in the hope of reaching their retreat, well persuaded that the soldiers would never dare to follow them there. At the end of a branch road leading from the main road, the Foresters descried above the trees the turrets of a Castle.

  “To whom doth this domain belong?” asked Robin. “Doth any one among you know the owner?”

  “I do, Captain,” said a man, who had been but lately enrolled in the band.

  “Good. Dost know whether we should be favourably received by its Lord? For we are lost, an the gates be closed to us.”

  “I will answer for the benevolence of the owner, for Sir Richard of the Plain is a brave Saxon.”