A strangely cruel smile played about the Nun’s lips when, coming out from the cell, she locked the door and carried away the key. Let us say a few words about the Nun in question.

  She was related to Sir Guy of Gisborne, the Norman Knight who, in an expedition, attempted with the aid of Lord Fitz-Alwine, against the Merrie Men, had had the misfortune to die the death which he had hoped to give Robin Hood. However, it would not have occurred to this woman to avenge her cousin, had not the latter’s brother, too cowardly to expose himself in an honourable combat, persuaded her that she would be doing both an act of justice and a good deed in ridding the kingdom of England of the too celebrated Outlaw. The weak-minded Abbess submitted to the will of the miserable Norman. She committed the murder, and cut the radial artery of the unsuspicious Outlaw.

  Having left the sick man for an hour to the overpowering sleep which was the inevitable consequence of so great a loss of blood, the Nun went silently to him again, took off the bandage which covered the vein, and when the blood had again begun to flow, she crept away on tip-toe.

  Robin Hood slept till morning with no feeling of discomfort, but when he opened his eyes and tried to rise, he felt so weak that he thought his last hour was come. The blood, which had flowed ceaselessly from the wound, flooded the bed, and Robin Hood then grasped the full danger of the situation. By an almost superhuman effort of will he managed to drag himself to the door. He tried to open it, found it was locked, and, still sustained by the strength of his will a will so powerful that it succeeded in reviving his exhausted body he got to the window, opened it, and leaning out, tried to leap from the sill; then, failing in this, he made one last appeal to Heaven, and, as though inspired by his good angel, he took his hunting-horn, raised it to his lips, and with difficulty made some feeble sounds.

  Little John, who could not be separated from his well-beloved comrade without sorrow, had passed the night under the walls of the Convent. He had just awakened, and was preparing to take measures to see Robin Hood, when the dying echoes of the hunting-horn sounded in his ears.

  “Treachery! treachery!” cried John, running like a madman towards the little wood where a party of the Merrie Men had encamped for the night. “To the Abbey, my lads! to the Abbey! Robin Hood is calling to us! Robin Hood is in danger!”

  In an instant the Foresters were on their feet and hastening in the wake of Little John, who was hammering at the gate of the Abbey. The attendant refused to open. John lost not a second in prayers, which he knew would be of no avail. He smashed in the door with a boulder of granite laying at hand, and guided by the sound of the horn, he gained the cell where, in a pool of blood, lay poor Robin Hood. At the sight of Robin dying, the strong Forester felt his strength fail him; tears of grief and indignation rolled down his bronzed cheeks. He fell on his knees, and taking his old friend in his arms, he said to him amid his sobs “Master, my well-beloved master, who hath committed the infamous crime of striking a sick man? Whose is the sacrilegious hand which hath committed this murder in a Holy House? Answer me, for pity’s sake, answer!”

  Robin slowly shook his head. “What boots it,” he said, “now that all is over for me? Now that I have lost to the last drop all the blood in my veins “

  “Robin,” replied John, “tell me the truth. I ought to know; I must know. Must I accuse this cowardly assassin of deliberate treachery?”

  Robin nodded his head.

  “Well, beloved friend,” continued John, “give me the supreme satisfaction of avenging thy death. Permit me in my turn to bring murder and sorrow where murder hath been committed, where for me hath arisen the most cruel sorrow. Say one word, make one sign, not one vestige of this hateful house shall remain. I will have it destroyed stone by stone. I still have the strength of a giant, and I have five hundred brave men to come to my assistance.”

  “Nay, John, nay! I do not wish thee to lift up thy clean and honest hands against these women who are vowed to God; that would be sacrilege. She who hath slain me obeyed, doubtless, a will stronger than her religious feelings. She will suffer the tortures of remorse in this life, an she repent; and she will be punished in the next world, an she win not from Heaven the pardon which I accord her. Thou dost know, John, that I have never harmed a woman nor permitted one to be harmed, and for me a Nun is doubly sacred and to be respected. Let us speak no more of that, my friend. Give me my bow and arrow. Carry me to the window. I would breathe my last where my last arrow falleth.”

  Robin Hood, supported by Little John, took aim, drew the string of his bow, and the arrow, skimming the tree-tops like a bird, fell some distance away.

  “Farewell, good bow; farewell, trusty arrows,” murmured Robin, in a trembling voice, letting them slip from his hands. “John, my friend,” he added, in a calmer tone, “bear me to the spot where I have said that I wished to die.”

  Little John gathered Robin in his arms, and laden with this precious burden went down to the Court of the Convent, where, by his orders, the Merrie Men had quietly assembled. But, at the sight of their Chief lying like a child against John’s strong shoulder, at the sight of his white face, they uttered a cry of fury, and wanted to punish forthwith those who had struck Robin.

  “Peace, my lads!” said John; “leave vengeance to God. For the moment the state of our well-beloved master should alone occupy our thoughts. All of you follow me to the place where the last arrow shot by Robin is to be found.”

  The troop divided in two to make a passage for the old man between them, and John walked on with a firm step, and soon gained the spot where Robin’s arrow was stuck in the ground.

  There John spread upon the turf some garments brought by the Merrie Men, and on them he laid, with infinite precautions, the poor sufferer.

  “Now,” said Robin, in a weak voice, “call all my Merrie Men. I would be surrounded once again by the brave hearts that have served me so well and so faithfully. I would breathe my last in the midst of my gallant, my life-long comrades.”

  John sounded the horn three several times, for this call, while warning the Outlaws of an imminent danger, hastened their progress.

  Among the men who came in response to John’s bugle-call was Will Scarlett; for although he had ceased to belong to the band, he paid them frequent visits, and he rarely passed a week without coming to greet his friends and bringing down a stag, which he would share with them.

  We will not attempt to depict William’s despair and stupefaction on learning Robin’s condition, and seeing the distorted countenance of that dear friend who was so worthy of the love that he inspired.

  “Holy Virgin!” said Will. “Ah! my poor friend! my poor brother! my dear Robin, what hath happened? Tell me all; art wounded? Doth he who laid his cursed hand upon thee still live? Tell me, tell me, and to-morrow he will have expiated his crime!”

  Robin Hood raised his aching head from John’s arm, upon which it had been resting, looked at Will with an expression of lively tenderness, saying, with a sad, wan smile “I thank thee, good Will, but I do not wish to be avenged. Put from thy heart all feeling of hatred for the murderer of one who dies, if not without regret, at least without pain. Doubtless I had reached the term of my existence, since the Divine Mother of the Saviour, my Holy Protectress, hath abandoned me at this fatal moment. I have lived long, Will, and I have been loved and honoured by all who have known me. Painful though it be to leave you, good and dear friends,” continued Robin, with a tender look at Little John and Will, “that grief is sweetened by a Christian thought, by the certainty that our separation will not be for ever, and that God will unite us in a better world. Thy presence at my death-bed is a great consolation to me, dear Will, dear brother; for, indeed, we have been good and loving brothers. I thank thee for all the tokens of affection with which thou hast surrounded me. I bless thee with heart and and with lips; I pray the Holy Mother to make thee as happy as thou dost deserve to be. Thou wilt tell thy dear wife Maude from me, that I did not forget her when praying for thy happiness, and thou wilt embrace her for her brother, Robin Hood.”

  William sobbed convulsively.

  “Weep not, Will,” said Robin, after a moment’s silence; “thou dost grieve me too much. Has thy heart then become as weak as a woman’s that thou canst not bear sorrow more hardily?”

  William did not reply; he was choked with tears.

  “Old comrades, dear friends of my heart,” continued Robin, addressing the Merrie Men grouped silently around him, “ye who have shared my toils and my dangers, my joy and my grief, with a devotion and fidelity beyond all praise, take my last thanks and my blessing. Farewell, my brothers; brave Saxon hearts, farewell. Ye have been the terror of the Normans; ye have gained for ever the love and gratitude of the poor. Be happy, be blessed, and pray sometimes to our dear Protectress, the Mother of the Saviour of Mankind, for your absent friend for Robin Hood.”

  Stifled groans were the only reply to Robin’s words. Distracted with grief, the yeomen heard these farewells, but refused to realise their cruel significance.

  “And thou, Little John,” resumed the dying man, in a voice that grew weaker every moment, “thou of the noble heart, thou whom I love with all the strength of my soul, what will become of thee? To whom wilt thou give the affection thou didst bestow on me? With whom wilt thou dwell beneath the grand old forest trees? Oh, John! thou wilt be very lonely, very desolate, very miserable; forgive me for leaving thee thus. I had hoped for a sweeter death. I had hoped to die with thee, beside thee, bow in hand, defending my country. God hath willed it otherwise. Praised be His Name! My hour approaches, John. Mine eyes are failing. Give me thy hand; I would die holding it in mine own, John. Thou dost know my wishes; thou knowest where my mortal remains are to be interred beneath the Trysting Tree, beside her who awaits me beside Marian.”

  “Yea, yea!” sighed John, sadly, his eyes brimming with tears; “thou shalt be — “

  “I thank thee, old friend. I die happy. I go to be with Marian for ever. Farewell, John — “ The great Outlaw’s dying voice became inaudible. A light breath touched Little John’s face, and the soul of the friend he had so dearly loved took its flight from earth.

  “To your knees, my children!” said the old man, crossing himself; “the noble and generous Robin Hood hath ceased to live!”

  All heads were bowed as William uttered a short but fervent prayer over Robin; then, with the help of Little John, he carried the body to its last resting-place. Two Foresters dug the grave beside Marian, and there Robin was laid upon a bed of flowers and foliage. Little John placed Robin’s bows and arrows beside him; and the dead man’s favourite dog, which might never serve another master, was killed upon the grave and interred with him.

  Thus ended the career of one of the most extraordinary characters in the annals of England. May he rest in peace!

  The possessions of the band were loyally divided among its members by Little John, who wished to pass the remaining days of his sorrowful life in some peaceful retreat. The Outlaws separated, some going to live in Nottingham, others settling down here and there in the neighbouring counties, but none had the heart to remain in the old green wood. Robin Hood’s death had rendered that abode too painfully sad.

  Little John could not decide to leave the Forest after all. He stayed there for several days, wandering about the desert paths like a soul in pain, and calling aloud to him who would never answer him again. At last he decided to go and seek shelter with Will Scarlett. Will received him with open arms, and sad as he himself, he tried to afford some consolation to this inconsolable grief; but John would not be comforted.

  One morning William, seeking Little John, found him in the garden standing upright, his back against an oak, and his head turned toward the forest. John’s face was very pale; fixed and staring eyes appeared to have no sight in them. William seized cousin’s arm in terror, and called to in a trembling voice; but the old man made no reply — he was dead.

  This unexpected blow was a great grief to William. He carried Little John the house, and the next day the Gamwell family followed this dearly-loved brother to Hathen Churchyard, situated six miles Castleton in Derbyshire.

  The tomb containing the remains Little John still exists, and is remarkable for the extraordinary length of the stone that covers it. This stone presents to curious eye two initials, J.N., very artfully engraven in the heart of the granite.

  A legend recounts that a certain antiquary, a great lover of the curious, had the gigantic tomb opened, removed the bones, and bore them away as worthy of a place in his cabinet of anatomical curiosities. Unhappily for the worthy man of learning, from the moment that these human remains entered his house, he knew no repose; he was visited by sickness, ruin, and death. And the gravedigger who had helped to profane the tomb was equally afflicted in his tenderer feelings. Then the two men understood that they had offended against Heaven in violating the secrets of a tomb, an they piously reinterred the old Forester’s remains in holy ground.

  After which the antiquary and the grave-digger lived quietly and happily. God, who grants remission to all repented sins, had pardoned their sacrilege.

  THE END

 

 

  Alexandre Dumas, ROBIN HOOD THE OUTLAW

 

 

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