Terrified at the probable result of a total defeat, the Knight called a truce, and thanks to Robin’s generosity, he was able to take back the remnants of his troop to Nottingham.

  It is needless to add that the grateful Knight promised himself secretly to recommence the attack on the following day with men more lightly equipped than the Normans he had brought from London.

  Robin Hood, who had guessed Sir William’s hostile intentions, arranged his men in order of battle on the same spot on which the combat of the previous day had taken place, and awaited calmly the appearance of the soldiers, who had been met some two miles from the Trysting Tree by one of the Foresters sent as scouts to different parts of the Forest in the neighbourhood of Nottingham.

  This time the Normans were clad in the light garb of archers, and armed with bows and arrows, small swords, and bucklers.

  Robin Hood and his men had been at heir posts for about an hour, and the soldiers had not yet appeared. The young man began to think his enemies had changed their minds, when an archer, who had been posted as sentinel, ran up in all haste to announce that the Normans who had lost their way) were now marching directly upon the Trysting Tree, where, by Robin’s orders, the women had assembled.

  This news struck Robin with a fatal presentiment. He turned pale, and said to his men “Let us intercept the Norman dogs; they must be stopped on their way. Woe to them and to us if they get near our women!”

  The Foresters rushed as one man to the road taken by the soldiers in order to bar their way or to reach the Trysting Tree before them. But the soldiers had advanced too far for the Merrie Men either to stop them or even to be in time to prevent a terrible disaster. The manners, or rather the want of manners, of this lawless period, made Robin and his companions fear cruel retaliation upon the group of completely isolated women.

  The Normans soon reached the Trysting Tree. At sight of them the women rose in terror, uttering cries of anguish, and fled distractedly in every direction open to them. In the weak and forlorn position of their terrified wives, Sir William saw at a glance a means of satisfying his hatred against the Saxons; he resolved to seize them, and by their deaths to avenge the ill success of his first attack upon Robin Hood.

  At their Chief’s command, the soldiers halted, and for a second Sir William followed with his eyes the tumultuous movements of the poor distracted women. One of them ran forward, and her companions endeavoured to join her, and to protect her flight. This evident solicitude conveyed to the Norman the superior position of her who headed the retreat; he also considered that it would be according to the rules of war to strike her first, and seizing his bow, he fixed an arrow to it, and coolly took aim. The Knight was a good marksman; the unhappy woman, struck between the shoulders, fell bleeding in the midst of her companions, who, without a thought of their own safety, knelt around her, uttering piercing cries.

  A man had seen the miserable Norman’s murderous action, and hoping to arrest the fatal stroke, he took aim at the Knight. His arrow reached its mark, but too late, for Sir William had shot Marian before he met his own death at the hand of Robin Hood.

  “Lady Marian is wounded mortally wounded!”

  The terrible news flew from mouth to mouth; it brought tears to the eyes of all the Saxons, who dearly loved their young Queen. As for Robin, he was mad with grief; he did not speak, he did not weep, but he fought. Little John and he leapt like tigers thirsting for blood upon the Normans, and scattered death through their ranks without uttering a cry, without even opening their livid lips. Their active arms seemed endowed with superhuman strength; they avenged Marian, and they avenged her cruelly.

  The bloody battle lasted for two hours; the Normans were cut to pieces, and shown no grace or mercy. One soldier alone escaped, and went to tell Sir William de Grey’s brother of the fatal result of the expedition.

  Marian had been removed to a clearing some distance from the scene of the combat, and Robin found Maude there, weeping as she vainly tried to staunch the blood which gushed from a frightful wound.

  Robin knelt beside Marian, his heart torn with anguish; he could neither speak nor move, and felt as though he must choke. At Robin’s approach Marian had opened her eyes and looked tenderly at him. “Thou art not wounded, my dear?” she asked, in a weak voice, after a moment’s mute contemplation.

  “Nay, nay,” murmured Robin between his clenched teeth.

  “The Holy Virgin be praised!” added Marian, smiling. “I have prayed to Our Dear Lady for thee, and she hath heard my prayer. Is this terrible combat over, dear Robin?”

  “Yea, sweet Marian, our enemies have disappeared; they will never come back again. But let me speak of thee, think of thee; thou art... I... Holy Mother of God! This grief is more than I can bear.”

  “Come, come, courage, my well-beloved Robin; lift up thy head, look at me,” said Marian, still trying to smile. “My wound is not deep, it will soon be cured; the arrow hath been withdrawn. Thou knowest well, my dear, that if there were anything to fear, I should be the first to perceive that mine hour was come..., Look, look at me, Robin dear.”

  As she spoke, Marian tried to draw Robin’s head towards her; but her last strength was spent in the effort, and when the young man raised his weeping eyes to her, she had fainted.

  Marian soon came to herself, and after having sweetly consoled her husband, she expressed a wish to rest a little, and soon fell into a profound slumber.

  As soon as Marian was asleep upon the mossy bed in the shade of the trees, that had been prepared for her by her companions, Robin went to inquire into the condition of his band. He found John, Will Scarlett, and Much occupied in tending the wounded and burying the dead. The number of the wounded was very inconsiderable, for it resolved itself into half a score of men seriously hurt, and there was not a single death to deplore amongst the Outlaws. As for the Normans, we know that they no longer existed, and several large ditches were dug in the glade to serve as their sepulchre.

  On awaking after three hours’ deep sleep, Marian found her husband beside her, and the angelic creature, still wishing to give some consoling hope to him she loved so dearly, began softly to say that she felt no weakness at all, and would soon be well.

  Marian was suffering, she felt a deathly depression creeping over her, and she knew there was no hope; but Robin’s anguish wrung her heart, and she sought to soften, as much as lay in her power, the fatal blow which must soon be dealt him.

  Next morning she was worse, inflammation had set in in the wound, and all hope of recovery faded even from Robin’s heart.

  “Dear Robin,” said Marian, laying her burning hands in those of her husband, “my last hour approaches; the hour of our separation will be cruel, but not insupportable to such as have faith in the mercy and goodness of Almighty God.”

  “Oh, Marian, my beloved Marian!” cried Robin, breaking into sobs, “hath the Holy Virgin abandoned us, that she can permit this desolation of our hearts? I will die at thy death, Marian, for it will be impossible to live without thee.”

  “Religion and duty will be the support of thy weakness, my Robin,” replied the young wife, tenderly. “Thou wilt resign thyself to bear the sorrow that overwhelms us, because it hath been imposed on thee as a Heavenly decree; and thou wilt live, if not happy, at least calm and strong, amidst the men whose happiness depends on thy life. I am going to leave thee, but, ere I close mine eyes to the light of day, let me tell thee how much I have loved thee, how much I do love thee. If the gratitude that fills all my being could be clothed in visible form, thou wouldst comprehend the strength and the extent of a feeling that hath no equal but my love. I have loved thee, Robin, with the confident surrender of a devoted heart; I have consecrated my life to thee, only asking of God the one gift of pleasing thee.”

  “And God hath granted thee that gift, dear Marian,” said Robin, trying to moderate the violence of his grief; “for I can tell thee truly that thou alone hast filled my heart, that whether at my side or far from me, thou hast ever been my only hope and sweetest consolation.”

  “If Heaven had permitted us to grow old together side by side, dear Robin,” replied Marian; “if a long succession of happy days had been granted to us, the separation would have been still more cruel, for then thou wouldst have had less strength to support the crushing sorrow. But we are both young, and I leave thee alone at a time of life when solitude is crowned by remembrance, perhaps even by hope... Take me in thine arms, dear Robin, so... let me rest my head against thine. I would whisper my last words in thine ear. I would have my soul take its flight lightly and happily. I would breathe my last sigh upon thy heart.”

  “Beloved Marian, speak not so,” cried Robin, in heartrending tones. “I cannot bear to hear that fatal word ‘separation’ upon thy lips. Oh, Holy Mother of God! Holy Protectress of the afflicted! Thou who hast ever granted my humble prayers! Grant me the life of her whom I love! Grant me the life of my wife, I pray thee, I beseech thee with clasped hands and on bended knees!”

  And Robin, with his face bathed in tears, raised supplicating hands to Heaven.

  “Thou dost address a vain prayer to the Divine Mother of the Sorrows of Mankind, sweetheart,” said Marian, laying her pale face against Robin’s shoulder. “My days, or rather mine hours, are numbered. God hath sent me a dream to warn me.”

  “A dream! What dost say, dear child?”

  “Yea, a dream; listen to me. I saw thee, surrounded by thy Merrie Men, in a vast clearing of Sherwood Forest. Thou wast evidently giving a feast to thy brave comrades, for the trees of the old wood were twined with garlands of roses, and purple streamers waved merrily upon the perfumed breath of the breeze. I was seated by thee; I held one of thy hands clasped in mine, and my heart was full of unutterable joy, when a stranger, with a pale face and black garments, appeared before us, and beckoned to me with his hand to follow him. I arose in spite of myself, and, still in spite of myself, I obeyed the dark stranger’s summons. Natheless, before leaving thee I questioned thee with a look, for my lips could not even give vent to a sigh from my anguished bosom. Thy calm and smiling looks met mine. I directed thine attention to the stranger; thou didst turn thy head toward him and didst smile again. I made thee understand that he was leading me far away from thee. A slight pallor spread over thy face, but the smile did not leave thy lips. I was desperate, a convulsive trembling seized my limbs, and I began to sob with my head buried in my hands.

  The stranger still led me on. When we found ourselves a short distance from the clearing, a veiled woman appeared before me; the stranger stepped back, and this woman, raising the veil that hid her features from me, disclosed the sweet face of my mother. I uttered a cry, and trembling with wonder and fear, I held out my arms to her.

  “Dear child,” said she, in a tender and melodious voice, “weep not, submit with the resignation of a Christian soul to the common destiny of all mortals. Die in peace, and leave without sorrow a world that hath only vain pleasures and passing joys to offer thee. There exists beyond this earth an abode of infinite bliss. Come and dwell there with me. But ere thou follow me, look!” Uttering these words my mother passed her hand, white and cold as marble, across my forehead. At this touch the veil fell from mine eyes till then obscured by tears and I saw around me a resplendent circle of maidens of supernatural beauty and with a divine smile upon their fresh and shining faces. They did not speak, but they looked at me, and seemed to convey to me how happy I should feel in coming to augment their numbers.

  While I was admiring my future companions, my mother leant toward me, and said tenderly, “Dear child of my heart, look, look again.”

  I obeyed my mother’s tender injunction. All around me was spread a vast garden of sweet-smelling flowers, trees laden with fruit crimson apples and golden-tinted pears bent their branches to the thick grass, which was all enamelled with the blossoms of the white Easter daisies. The air was full of a sweet perfume, and a multitude of many-coloured birds fluttered and sang in the balmy air. I was enchanted. My heart, which late was full of grief, gradually lightened, and my mother, smiling at my happiness, said to me again with an expression of caressing tenderness, “Look, dear child, look!”

  I heard the sound of light footsteps behind me. The sound was scarce audible, yet it seemed like music in mine ears, and without understanding the feeling that redoubled the beating of my heart, I turned round.

  Oh! then, Robin, my joy was complete, for thou wast running down the garden path; thou wast running to me with shining eyes and open arms. “Robin! Robin!” I cried, trying to run to thee. My mother held me back. “He will come,” she said. “He comes here he is.” And taking both our hands she joined them together, kissed me on the brow, and said, “My children, you are here where joy is everlasting, where love is never ending; you are in the abode of the elect; be happy!”

  “The end of the dream escapes my memory, dear Robin,” continued Marian, after a short silence. “I awoke, and I understood that Heaven had sent me a warning and a hope. I must leave thee, doubtless for many years, but not for ever; God will re-unite us in the blissful eternity of the next world.”

  “Dear, dear Marian!”

  “My beloved,” continued the young wife, “I feel that my strength is exhausted. Let me rest my head upon thy heart entwine thine arms around me, and like a tired child that falls asleep upon its mother’s bosom, will I sleep my last sleep.”

  Robin embraced the dying woman feverishly, while his burning tears fell upon her brow.

  “God bless thee, my beloved,” repeated Marian in a more and more feeble voice. God bless thee in the present and in the future. May He extend His Divine mercy over thee and over all whom thou dost love. All grows dark about me, and yet I would fain see thee smile once more. I would fain read in thine eyes how dear I am to thee, Robin! hear my mother’s voice. She calls me! she calls me! Farewell!”

  “Marian! Marian!” cried Robin, falling on his knees beside his young wife’s couch. “Speak to me! speak to me! I cannot let thee die! No, I cannot! Almighty God, come to my aid! Holy Virgin, take pity on us!”

  “Dear Robin,” murmured Marian, “I wish to be buried ‘neath the Trysting Tree... I want my grave to be covered with flowers...”

  “Yea, dearest Marian yea, my sweet angel, thou shalt sleep beneath a carpet of balmy verdure, and when my last hour is come, I swear it by all I hold sacred, I will demand a place beside thee from him who closes mine eyes...”

  “I thank thee, my beloved. My heart’s last beat is for thee, and I die happy, for I die in thine arms... Good-bye, good”

  A sigh and a kiss fell from Marian’s lips; her hands feebly clasped Robin’s neck, around which they were entwined, then she grew quite still.

  Robin remained bending over her sweet face for a long time. For long he hoped to see the closed eyes open again; for long he waited for a word from the pale lips, a tremble from that dear form; but alas! he waited in vain. Marian was dead!

  “Holy Mother of God!” cried Robin, laying the motionless body of the poor girl upon the bed, “she is gone; gone for ever! my beloved, my only joy, my wife!”

  And, maddened with grief, the unhappy man rushed from the spot crying wildly, “Marian is dead! Marian is dead!”

  CHAPTER XIV

  Robin Hood religiously performed his wife’s last wishes. A grave was dug beneath the Trysting Tree, and the mortal remains of the angelic creature who had been the guide and consolation of his life, were interred beneath a bed of flowers. The maidens of the County hastened to attend the funeral ceremony, strewed Marian’s tomb with roses, and mingled their tears with poor Robin’s sobs.

  Allan and Christabel, informed by messenger of the sad occurrence, arrived early in the day; they were both in despair, and bitterly bewailed the irreparable loss of a well-beloved sister.

  When all was over, and Marian’s body had disappeared from sight, Robin Hood, who had presided over the heartrending details of the burial, gave a piercing cry, trembled from head to foot like a man wounded full in the breast by a murderous arrow, and without listening to Allan, without answering Christabel, who was frightened by his fierce despair, he escaped from their hands, and disappeared into the wood. Poor Robin wished to be alone with his grief, alone with God.

  Time, which calms and softens the greatest griefs, had no such effect upon the open wound in Robin’s heart. He wept ceaselessly, he mourned continuously, the wife whose sweet face had brightened their woodland home, who had found happiness in his love, who had been the only joy of his life.

  Life in the Forest soon became insupportable to the young man, and he retired to Barnsdale Hall. But there, the distressing memory of the past was livelier than ever, and Robin Hood fell into a gloomy apathy that numbed all his moral faculties. He seemed to be alive neither in mind, spirit, nor memory.

  This splenetic sorrow, if it may be so described, threw a shadow of the deepest melancholy over the band of Merrie Men. The grief of their young leader had quenched the light of their mirth, and they wandered through the old Forest like lost spirits. No longer did Friar Tuck’s loud laugh echo through the greenwood; no longer was heard the sound of the nimble quarter-staves striking against each other with vigour and skill, amidst a chorus of bravos. Arrows remained idle within their quivers, and the butts were deserted.

  Want of sleep and a distaste for food wrought a visible change in Robin’s features; he grew pale, his eyes were encircled by dark rings, a dry cough shook his frame, while a slow fever finished the work commenced by sorrow. Little John, who silently watched this cruel transformation, at last succeeded in making Robin understand that he must not only leave Barnsdale, but even Yorkshire, and seek to assuage his grief in the distractions of travel. After an hour’s resistance, Robin had taken Little John’s sage advice, and before leaving his companions, he had placed them under the command of his excellent friend.

  In order to run no risks of being recognised, Robin dressed himself as a peasant, and in this simple garb he arrived at Scarborough. Here he stopped to rest at the door of a small hut occupied by the widow of a fisherman, and claimed her hospitality. The good dame gave our hero a kindly welcome, and as she served him with food, she related to him all the little sorrows of her life, adding that she owned a boat manned by three men, whose support pressed heavily on her, although they were insufficient in numbers to row the boat to shore when it was fully laden with a full catch of fish.