“A well-favoured lad with large blue eyes?”

  “The same. The poor fellow, sent to London by Baron Fitz-Alwine, had been enrolled in a regiment that formed part of the army which still occupies Normandy. One fine day William was taken with an unconquerable desire to see his family again; he asked for leave, which he could not obtain, and, beside himself at the persistent refusal of his Captain, he killed him. Will succeeded in reaching England, a lucky chance brought us together, and I took the lad to Barnsdale, where his family live. The day after his return all the household were rejoicing, for they were not only celebrating the return of the wanderer, but also his marriage and Sir Guy’s birthday.”

  “Will going to be married? To whom?”

  “To a charming damosel whom you know Mistress Lindsay.”

  “I do not recollect the lady you name.”

  “What, you have forgotten the existence of the companion, friend, and devoted follower of the Lady Christabel?”

  “I know, I know,” returned Allan Clare. “You are speaking of the merry daughter of the Keeper of Nottingham, of the sprightly Maude?”

  “That’s it; Maude and William have loved each other for a long time.”

  “Maude loved Will Scarlett! What are you saying, Robin? It was you, my friend, who had won the girl’s heart.”

  “Nay, nay, you are mistaken.”

  “Not at all, not at all; I remember now that, if she did not love you, which I doubt, at least she took a deep and tender interest in you.”

  “I had then, and have still, a brotherly affection for her.

  “Really?” questioned the Knight, slyly.

  “On my honour, yea!” replied Robin. “But to finish William’s story. This is what happened to him. An hour before the celebration of his marriage, he disappeared, and I have just learnt that he hath been carried off by the Baron’s soldiers. I have collected my men in a few minutes they will be within call and I am relying on my skill, supported by their aid, to deliver William.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Without the least doubt he is in Nottingham Castle. I shall soon be certain of it.”

  “Do not be too rash, my good Robin; wait till to-morrow. I shall see the Baron, and I will bring to bear all the influence which entreaties or threats can have on him to obtain the release of your cousin.”

  “But if the old miscreant acts summarily, should I not all my life regret having lost several hours?”

  “Have you reason to fear it?”

  “How can you ask me such a question, Allan, when you know the cruel answer to it better than I do myself? You know well, do you not, that Lord Fitz-Alwine is without pity and without feeling? If he dared to hang Will with his own hands, be assured he would do it. I must hasten to drag William from the lion’s jaws, an I would not lose him for ever.”

  “Belike you are right, dear Robin, and my prudent counsel would be dangerous to follow in that case. I shall present myself at the Castle this very day, and, once inside, I may possibly be able to help you. I will question the Baron; an he will not answer, I shall address myself to the soldiers, who will, I hope, be open to the temptation of a heavy bribe. Rely on me; but an if my efforts be fruitless, I will let you know, and you must act with the greatest promptitude.”

  “That is understood. Here is my man coming back; he is accompanied by Halbert, Maude’s foster brother. We shall now learn something of poor Will’s fate.”

  “Well?” asked Robin, after having greeted his friend.

  “I have very little to tell you,” replied Halbert; “I only know that a prisoner hath been carried to Nottingham Castle, and Much tells me that the unfortunate wretch is our poor friend Will Scarlett. If you wish to try and save him, Robin, you must lose no time; a monk, a pilgrim on his way through Nottingham, hath been sent for to the Castle to shrive the prisoner.”

  “Holy Mother of God, have pity on us!” cried Robin, in a trembling voice. “Will, my poor Will, is in danger of his life; we must rescue him; it must be done at any cost. You know naught else, Halbert?” he added.

  “Naught relating to Will; but I have learnt that the Lady Christabel is going to be married at the end of the week.”

  “Lady Christabel to be married?” repeated Allan.

  “Yea, master,” replied Halbert, looking at the Knight with an air of surprise. “She is to marry the richest Norman in all England.”

  “Impossible! Quite impossible!” exclaimed Allan Clare.

  “It is perfectly true,” returned Halbert, “and great preparations are on foot at the Castle to celebrate the happy event.”

  “The happy event!” repeated the Knight, bitterly. “What is the name of the scoundrel who thinks to marry the Lady Christabel?”

  “Are you a stranger to these parts, Master?” continued Halbert, “since you are unaware of the immense delight of the Baron Fitz-Alwine? His Lordship hath manoeuvred so well that he hath succeeded in securing a colossal fortune in the person of Sir Tristan Goldsborough.”

  “Lady Christabel to be the wife of that hideous old man?” cried the Knight, completely taken aback. “Why, the creature is half dead! He is a monster of ugliness and sordid avarice. The daughter of Baron Fitz-Alwine is my betrothed, and so long as there is breath in my body, none other save I shall have a right to her.”

  “Your betrothed, master! Who, then, are you?”

  “Sir Allan Clare,” said Robin.

  “The brother of the Lady Marian! The Lady Christabel’s dearest friend?”

  “Yea, Halbert,” said Allan.

  “Hurrah!” cried Halbert, throwing up his cap. “Here’s a piece of good luck! Welcome to England! Your presence will change the tears of your beautiful betrothed into smiles. This odious marriage is to be solemnised at the end of this week, and i’ faith you have no time to lose, an you wish to prevent it.”

  “I will go and see the Baron this instant,” said Allan. “An he thinks he can still play with me, he is wrong.”

  “You may count on my help, Sir Knight,” said Robin; “and I will engage to put an all-powerful obstacle in the way of the accomplishment of this misfortune, to wit force allied with cunning. We shall carry off the Lady Christabel. My idea is that we should all four go to the Castle together; you will enter alone, while I await your return with Much and Halbert.”

  The young men soon reached the approach to the Castle. As the Knight went towards the drawbridge, a noise of chains was heard, the bridge was lowered, and an old man in the garb of a pilgrim emerged from the postern.

  “Yonder comes the Confessor summoned by the Baron for poor William,” said Halbert. “Question him, Robin; perhaps he can tell you what fate is destined for our friend.”

  “I had the same idea, good Halbert, and I feel that our meeting with this holy man is an omen of Divine favour. May the Holy Virgin protect you, good Father!” said Robin, respectfully saluting the old man.

  “Amen to thy kind prayer, my son,” replied the pilgrim.

  “Have you come far, Father?”

  “From the Holy Land, where I have made a long and wearisome pilgrimage to expiate the sins of my youth. Now, worn out with fatigue, I have returned to die beneath the sky of my native land.”

  “God hath vouchsafed you a long life, Father.”

  “Yea, my son, I shall soon be ninety years old, and my life seems but a dream.”

  “I pray the Virgin may give you calm repose in your last hours.”

  “So be it, my child. I, in my turn, pray Heaven to shower blessing’s on thy young head. Thou art good and a believer, be thou also charitable, and give a thought to those who suffer, to those about to die.”

  “Explain yourself, Father; I do not understand,” said Robin, in a broken voice.

  “Alas! alas!” returned the old man, “a soul is about to ascend to heaven, its last home. The body which it animates can scarce count thirty years. A man of your age is about to die a terrible death. Pray for him, my son.”

  “Hath this man made his last confession to you, Father?”

  “Yea. In a few hours more he will be violently removed from this world.”

  “Where is the unfortunate man?”

  “In one of the dark dungeons of this stately pile.”

  “Is he alone?”

  “Yea, my son, alone.”

  “And this unhappy creature is to die?” questioned the young man.

  “To-morrow morning at sunrise.”

  “You are quite sure, Father, that the execution will not take place before daybreak?”

  “I am quite certain. Alas! is it not soon enough? Thy words grieve me, my son; dost desire a brother’s death?”

  “No, holy man, no; a thousand times no! I would give my life to save him. I know the poor lad, Father; I know and love him. Know you to what death he is condemned? Have you heard whether he is to die within the Castle?”

  “I learnt from the gaoler of the prison that the unhappy youth is to be put to death by the hangman of Nottingham. Orders have been given for a public execution in the market-place of that town.”

  “God keep us!” murmured Robin. “Kind, good Father,” he went on, taking the old man’s hand, “will you render me a service?”

  “What wouldst thou, my son?”

  “I desire, I pray, Father, that you will of your kindness return to the Castle and beg the Baron to grant you the favour of accompanying the prisoner to the foot ot the gallows.”

  “I have already obtained that permission, my son; I shall be near thy friend to-morrow morning.”

  “Bless you, holy Father, bless you! I have one last word to say to the condemned man, and I would charge you to give it him. To-morrow morning I will be here, near this clump of trees; will you be so good as to confess me before entering the Castle?”

  “I will meet thee punctually, my son.”

  “Thank you, holy Father; until tomorrow, then.”

  “To-morrow. And may the peace of our Lord go with thee.”

  Robin bowed reverently, and the Palmer, with his hands crossed on his breast, went on his way praying.

  “Yea, to-morrow,” repeated the young man. “We shall see to-morrow an if Will is to be hanged.”

  “It will be needful,” said Halbert, who had listened to Robin’s conversation with the prisoner’s Confessor, “to place your men within a short distance from the place of execution.”

  “They will be within sound of call,” said Robin.

  “How will you screen them from view of the soldiers?”

  “Do not be uneasy, my good Halbert,” replied Robin. “My merry men have long possessed the art of making themselves invisible, even on the high-road; and, believe me, their doublets will not graze the Baron’s soldiers, nor will they make their appearance, save at a prearranged signal from me.”

  “You seem so certain of success, my dear Robin,” said Allan, “that I begin to wish I could be as hopeful about mine own affairs.”

  “Sir Knight,” returned the young man, “first let me set William free, and put him safe in the hands of his dear little wife at Barnsdale, then we will think about the Lady Christabel. The projected marriage will not take place for several days; we have time to prepare for a serious struggle with Lord Fitz-Alwine.”

  “I will go into the Castle,” said Allan, “and by hook or by crook I will get to the bottom of this business. If the Baron hath thought fit to break an engagement which he should, in honour, have held sacred, I shall consider myself justified in waiving all respect, and, willy-nilly, Lady Christabel shall be my wife.”

  “You are right, my friend. Present yourself at once to the Baron; he doth not expect you, and very like in his surprise he will deliver himself into your hands bound hand and foot. Speak him boldly, and make him understand you intend to use force, if need be, to win the Lady Christabel. Whilst you are taking these important measures with Lord Fitz-Alwine, I will go and seek out my men and prepare for the successful accomplishment of the expedition I have planned. If you should need me, send without delay to the place where we met a few minutes since; there you are sure of finding one of my brave companions at any hour of the day or night. If it is necessary for you to have a talk with your faithful ally, you will be conducted to my retreat. But are you not afraid lest, once inside the Castle, it may be impossible for you to leave it again?”

  “Lord Fitz-Alwine would not dare to treat a man like me with violence,” replied Allan; “he would be exposing himself to too great a risk. Beside, an if he really intend to give Christabel to this hateful Tristan, he will be so eager to get rid of me that I fear he may refuse to receive me at all, rather than that he will wish to keep me near him. Farewell, then, for the present, my good Robin; I shall surely see you again before the end of the day.”

  “I shall expect you.”

  Whilst Allan Clare made his way towards the postern of the Castle, Robin, Halbert, and Much hastened to the town.

  Introduced without the least difficulty into the apartment of Lord Fitz-Alwine, the Knight soon found himself in the presence of the terrible Castellan.

  If a spirit had risen from the tomb, it could scarce have caused the Baron more dismay and terror than he experienced at sight of the handsome young man who stood before him with proud and dignified mien.

  The Baron threw at his serving-man so withering a glance that the latter escaped from the room with the utmost speed his limbs were capable of.

  “I did not expect to see you,” said his Lordship, bringing back his wrathful eyes to the Knight.

  “That may well be, my Lord; but here I am.”

  “So I see. Happily for me, you have broken your word the term which I had allotted you expired yesterday.”

  “Your Lordship is in error; I am punctual to the rendezvous you gave me.”

  “I can hardly take your word for it.”

  “I am sorry, because you will oblige me to force you to do so. We undertook a formal engagement, and I am in the right in exacting its fulfilment.”

  “Have you fulfilled all the conditions of the agreement?”

  “Of a truth have I. They were three: I was to obtain re-possession of my estates; I must possess one hundred thousand pieces of gold; and I must return in seven years to claim the hand of the Lady Christabel.”

  “Do you really possess one hundred thousand pieces of gold?” asked the Baron, enviously.

  “Yea, my Lord. King Henry hath restored me mine estates, and I have received the revenue arising from my patrimony since the day of its confiscation. I am rich, and I insist on your giving me the Lady Christabel tomorrow.”

  “To-morrow!” cried the Baron, “to-morrow! and if you were not here to-morrow,” he added, sombrely, “the contract would be annulled?”

  “Yea; but hearken to me, Lord Fitz-Alwine. I advise you to renounce all thoughts of consummating the diabolical schemes you are meditating at this moment. I am within my rights; I am here at the hour appointed me, and naught in all the world (it is useless to dream of resorting to force) naught in all the world will constrain me to renounce her I love. If in desperation you resort to fraud and cunning, I will take of that you may sure a terrible revenge. I know of a dark secret in your life, which I will reveal. I have sojourned at the court of the King of France; I have been initiated into the secret of an affair which doth very narrowly concern you.”

  “What affair?” questioned the Baron, uneasily.

  “It is useless for me to enter into long explanations with you just now; let it suffice that I have learnt and keep a note of the names of the miserable Englishmen who have offered to place their country under the yoke of the stranger.”

  Lord Fitz-Alwine became livid.

  “Keep the promise you have made me, my Lord, and I will forget you have been a coward and a traitor to your King.”

  “Sir Knight, you insult an old man,” said the Baron, assuming an indignant air.

  “I speak truth, and no more. One more refusal, my Lord, one more lie, one more subterfuge, and the proofs of your patriotism will be sent to the King of England.”

  “It is lucky for you, Allan Clare,” said the Baron, blandly, “that Heaven hath bestowed upon me a calm and equable temper; if I were of an irritable and hasty nature, you would pay dearly for your audacity, for I would have you thrown into one of the Castle moats.”

  “That would be a great mistake, my Lord, for it would in no wise save you from the Royal vengeance.”

  “Your youth excuses the impetuosity of your words, Sir Knight; I would rather show indulgence where it would be easy for me to punish. Why speak threateningly, ere you know whether I really intend to refuse you the hand of my daughter?”

  “Because I have learnt for certain that you have promised the Lady Christabel to a miserable and sordid old man to Sir Tristan Goldsborough.”

  “Indeed, indeed! And from what silly gossip learnt you this foolish story?”

  “That matters not; the whole town of Nottingham hath heard rumours of the preparations for this rich and ridiculous marriage.”

  “I cannot be responsible, Sir Knight, for the stupid lies which circulate around me.”

  “Then you have not promised the hand of your daughter to Sir Tristan?”

  “I must beg to decline to answer such a question. Until to-morrow I am at liberty to think and wish what I please; to-morrow is yours. Come then, and I will give you a full satisfaction of your desires. Farewell, Sir Allan Clare,” added the old man, rising; “I wish you a very good day, and pray you to leave me.”

  “I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again, Baron Fitz-Alwine. Remember that a gentleman hath only one promise.”

  “Very well, very well,” grumbled the old man, turning his back on his visitor.

  Allan left the Baron’s apartment with a heavy heart. He could not hide from himself that the old Lord meditated some perfidy. His menacing looks had accompanied the young man to the threshold of the room; then he had retired to the embrasure of the window, disdaining to respond to the Knight’s parting salute.

  As soon as Allan had disappeared (the young man went to seek Robin Hood) the Baron rang a small handbell on the table violently.