Back Aa

Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times

<h4>CHAPTER XXXV.</h4> The forest of Sherwood, which we have already had so much occasion to notice, though at that time celebrated for its extent, and the thickness of the woody parts thereof, was not even then what it once had been, and vestiges of its former vastness were found for many miles beyond the spots where the royal meres, or forest boundaries, were then placed. A space of cultivated country would intervene; meadows and fields would stretch out, with nothing but a hawthorn or a beech overshadowing them here and there; but then suddenly would burst upon the traveller's eye a large patch of wood, of several miles in length, broken with the wild, irregular savannahs, dells, dingles, banks, and hills, which characterized the forest he had just left behind. This was especially the case to the north and east, but one of the largest tracts of woodland, beyond the actual meres, lay in the south-eastern part of Yorkshire. It was separated by some three or four miles of ground irregularly cultivated, and broken by occasional clumps of old trees, and even small woods, from Sherwood itself, and, being more removed from the highway between the southern portion of England and the northern border, was more wild and secluded than even the actual forest. In extent it was about five miles long, and from three to four broad, and had evidently, in former times, been a portion of the same vast woody region which occupied the whole of that part of England. No great towns lying in the country immediately surrounding it, and no lordly castle, belonging to any very powerful baron, this tract was without that constant superintendence which was exercised over the forest ground in the southern parts of the island; and the game was left open as an object of chase, alike to the yeomen of the lands around, the monks of a neighbouring priory, and some of the inferior nobles who held estates in that district. Under a yellow sandy bank, then, upon the edge of this wood, with tall trees rising above, and the brown leaves of autumn rustling around, sat the old Earl of Monthermer, with his nephew, Hugh, six or eight of his own retainers, and four of the band of the bold Outlaw, finishing their forest meal, on a fine afternoon, some three days after the escape of the young nobleman from Nottingham Castle. The old Earl and his own personal attendants had all donned the forest green, but Hugh still remained in the same attire which he had worn at the court; and looking daily for the intelligence that Prince Edward had justified him with the King, and pleaded his cause with the old Earl of Ashby, he entertained not the slightest intention of taking upon him either the outlaw's life or garb. His uncle, indeed, was of a somewhat rougher school of chivalry than himself, and, from his earliest days till his hair had grown white with age, had known little but a life of adventure and privation, so that the calm and tranquil passing of peaceful hours seemed dull and wearisome to one whose corporeal vigour was but little decayed, and the wild sports of the forest, the mimic warfare of the chase, the constant change of circumstance, the very dangers of the outlaw's life, were to him as familiar things, pleasant as well as wholesome in their use. The old Earl had never loved but once, and that had been in early days, but love had been followed by bitterness and regret; and fixing his hopes upon his brother's son, he had forsworn the bonds of domestic life, and had no tie in wife or children to make him regret the castle hall, when he was under the boughs of the forest. It was not so, however, with Hugh; and, though it might be agreeable enough, for a day or two, to roam the country with a bold band of foresters, yet he looked forward anxiously to the day of his return to the court, from no great love to the court itself, but for the sake of Lucy de Ashby. Uncle and nephew, however, and all around, saw cheerfully the sun sinking, growing of a brighter and a brighter yellow as he went down, and beginning to touch the tips of the hills of Derbyshire and the clouds above them with purple and with gold. The merry song, the gay laugh, and jest passed round; and, if a memory of friends he had lost, and fortunes that were gone, and plans that were defeated, and expectations that were blasted, crossed the mind of the old Earl, they shadowed him but for a moment; and, with the true philosophy of the old soldier, he thought--"I have done my best, I have won renown, I have fought for the liberty of my country, and as for the rest, 'twill be all the same a hundred years hence." With Hugh, hope had risen up, as we have shewn, almost as bright as ever; for in the heart of truth and honour there is a spring of confidence which needs all the burdens of age, experience, and disappointment, to weigh it down for any length of time. "Look there!" he cried, at length--"there are three horsemen coming hither by the green road! News from the court, I'll warrant.--A letter from Prince Edward, perhaps." "Who are they, Scathelock?" demanded the Earl. "My eyes are dim, now-a-days; and yours are sharp enough." "The man that made the millstone," answered Scathelock, "cannot see much further through it than another. And, good faith, my lord, they are still too far for me to tell who they are; though I do wish with all my heart you, my good lord, had trusted to my eyes some six months ago. We should have had no Evesham, then." "How so?" demanded the Earl, turning eagerly towards him. "Why," replied Scathelock, "I sent you word there was a traitor amongst you, and told you who he was; but I was not believed. And Richard de Ashby was left to snap asunder the ties between his house and the cause of the people, and to furnish the horse that bore Prince Edward from Hereford. There is more venom yet in that viper's fangs--it were well they were drawn." "'Tis Robin himself!" cried another of the men, who had risen, and, shading his eyes from the setting sun, was gazing out over the grounds below, while the old Earl had let his head droop at the memories which Scathelock's speech called up, and sat looking sadly on the green blades of grass. "'Tis Robin himself! I see his broad shoulders and his little head. You will hear his horn anon." "By my faith, your eyes are keen!" cried Scathelock, as the moment after, the mellow winding of the Outlaw's horn came in round, soft notes, up the side of the hill. "'Tis Robin's own mots! There's none can bring such sounds out of the brass as he can. Forgive me, my lord!" he continued, to the Earl--"I have vexed you." "Not so, not so, good fellow," answered the old man; "'twas but the memories of the past. I acted then as ever, Scathelock--by what seemed best and noblest to be done; and that man's a fool, be his conduct what it will, who, having shaped it by the best light God gives, feels regret when he can lay his hand upon his breast, and say, 'My heart is pure!'--This, then, is Robin coming? Doubtless he brings good news." "To us, he is rarely an ill-omened bird," replied Scathelock; "but, by my faith, the Abbot of St. Anne's, after he has skinned his poor tenants of a heavy donation, or a king's warden, full of fines and free gifts, or the Sheriff of Nottingham's bailiff and collector, would not think the sight of Robin Hood's nut head and brawny arms the pleasantest apparition he could meet with between Nottingham and Doncaster." "Well, well," rejoined another, "if he frightens the purse-proud and the greedy, his footstep, on the threshold of the poor and the oppressed, has no ill sound, Scathelock." "Wind your horn, Tim of the Lane!" cried Scathelock. "He cannot see us though we see him." In such conversation some ten minutes passed away; at the end of which time Robin Hood and two of his companions came round under the bank, and sprang to the ground in the midst of the little party there assembled. He greeted them all frankly and with cheerful speech; but although no frown wrinkled his brow, it was easy to perceive that his mood was not a gay one. "Come," he said, after his first salutation to the two noblemen was over, "what have you here to eat? By my life, we three are hungry and thirsty too. A fat brawn's head and a bustard scarcely touched! By our Lady, a supper for an emperor! Why, my lord, it seems you have not finished yet?" "We had well-nigh ended," said the Earl: "but in such an evening as this one loves to prolong the minutes with careless talk, good Robin. There is rich store of the prior's wine, too, under the bank. Scathelock, it seems, resolved to make us merry." "He is right, he is right," replied Robin; "the King can make men rich and noble too; but not every one can make you merry for the nonce. I wish it were." "Why, Robin, you seem sad," observed Hugh de Monthermer, sitting down beside him. "If you bring me bad tidings, let me hear them quickly." "Good or bad, as you take them," answered Robin Hood; "though some are foul enough for any ears." "Well, then, speak, speak!" said Hugh de Monthermer. "The sting of bad tidings is suspense, Robin. The burden is soon borne, when once it is taken up.--They do not believe my story;--is it so?" "No," answered Robin Hood; "the Prince, as I hear, has done you justice. He came over from Derby at once. I took care your letter should reach him instantly; and ere twelve hours from the time your head was to be struck off, the sentence was reversed, and you were declared innocent." "And this is the administration of the law under Henry the Third?" said the old Earl. "The life of a peer of England is a king's plaything.--This will mend itself." "Ha!" cried Robin Hood, with a degree of sorrowful impatience in his tone, "others have been making sport of peers' lives besides the King. Has not that news reached you, that Lindwell Castle has a new lord?" Hugh de Monthermer started up, with a look of half incredulous surprise--"Dead?" he exclaimed,--"the Earl of Ashby dead?" "Ay, marry," answered Robin Hood.--"murdered! so they say, by the Bull's hawthorn, under Lindwell Green, nor far from the skirt of Thornywood--You know the place, my lord?" "Right well," replied Hugh de Monthermer;--"but is it sure, Robin?" "Nothing is sure," answered Robin Hood--"nothing is sure in this world that I know of. But this news is all over the country; and as I came by Southwell this morning, I heard proclamation made upon the Green concerning this sad murder." "This is most strange," said Hugh; "such things will make us infidels: while fools and villains reach to honours and renown, honest men are driven to herd in Sherwood with the beasts of the forest, and good men murdered at their own castle-gate. Who can have done this, Robin?--Do you know?" "I know right well," replied Robin Hood. "'Tis Richard de Ashby has done it; and now the base beast--part wolf, part fox, part serpent--contrives to put the bloody deed upon another. But he shall find himself mistaken, if my advice is followed--I will see to it, I will see to it; for I am somewhat in fault in this matter. I was warned of the purpose, and might have stopped it; but in the hurry of other things, I forgot, and was too late." "Yes," said Hugh de Monthermer, "it could be none other--the base villain! But can you bring him to punishment, Robin?" "That must be your affair," replied Robin Hood, "I will prove his guilt; but you must punish him." "That will I, right willingly," cried Hugh de Monthermer, "I will accuse him of the deed, and dare him to show his innocence in arms." "Nay, that is not needful," answered Robin Hood; "'tis he accuses you." "Me? me?" asked Hugh de Monthermer. "What! my nephew," exclaimed the old Earl--"a prisoner or a fugitive?" "Even so," replied the Outlaw, "ay, and with fair and specious showing, makes his case good; forges a letter, as I hear, and doubtless has hired witnesses, too. I have not been able to gather much of how this new plot has been framed; but, as I was going to tell you, my good lords: on Southwell Green this morning, as I passed, I saw a king's pursuivant with sundry men-at-arms, and stopping amongst the crowd, who laughed to see bold Robin Hood, the outlaw, the robber, the murderer, of much venison, stay and front the royal officers, I heard them make proclamation, saying, 'Know all men that Hugh Monthermer, Lord of Amesbury and Lenton, is accused, on strong suspicion, of traitorously and feloniously doing to death William Earl of Ashby, and that he is hereby summoned to appear before the King at Nottingham, to purge himself of the said charge by trial, oath, ordeal, or wager of battle, at his choice, according to the laws of the realm and chivalry.'--Those are the very words." "And strange ones, too," said the old Earl. "The form is somewhat varied from the usual course, and the name of the accuser left unmentioned." "All is out of course now," answered Robin Hood, "and this not more than the rest. But it matters not--'twill come to the same in the end." Hugh de Monthermer, while this was passing, stood buried in thought, with his arms folded on his chest. "The villain!" he repeated, at length--"the villain! But he shall rue the day.--I will away at once, Robin, and face him ere the world be a day older. If my right hand fail me against Richard de Ashby, my conscience must be worse than I believe it. I will away at once; I must not lie beneath such a charge an hour longer than needful." "Nay, nay, my good lord," cried Robin Hood, "sit down and be ruled by me!--haste may spoil all. I have the clue fully in my hands; and although I do hope and trust to see your lance an arm's length through the traitor, or your good sword in his false throat, yet I promise, that you shall, moreover, have the means in your hand of proving to all men's conviction, not only that you are innocent, but that he himself is the doer of the deed. In the first place, then, you must not go to the court of England without a safe-conduct. Methinks you should know better than that." "Oh, but Prince Edward!" cried Hugh de Monthermer. "Prince Edward may be away again," interrupted the Outlaw; "you must have a safe-conduct, and the time spent will not be lost. Sit you down--sit you down, my lord, and take a cup of wine.--This news has shaken you.--I will arrange it all. The third day hence, you shall be at the English court; but even then you must contrive to delay the combat for a week. Then, ere you go to the lists, you shall put the proofs which I will give you in the hand of the Prince, to be opened when the fight is over. Come, sit you down, and let us talk of it; I'll show you reasons for so doing. Here, one of your own men shall ride to the Prince, and ask for a safe-conduct.--He may be back by to-morrow night." Hugh sat down beside him again, the old Lord leaned upon the grass, his faithful followers and those of the bold forester made a circle at a little distance, passing the wine-cup round; and--as with the general world, in which mirth and gaiety and every-day idleness have their common course, while many a tragedy is acting in the houses near--while, in the one group the jest, and the laugh, and the song went on; in the other, was grave and deep thought, regret, and indignation, and that feeling of awe with which great crimes naturally inspire the mind of man. The golden sun went down, and a cold, clear, autumnal night succeeded. A fire was lighted of dry branches, serving the purpose of a torch likewise, and still those three sat discussing the subject which was uppermost in their thoughts with long and earnest debate. About an hour after nightfall a letter was written with materials which one or other of the forest party was seldom without; and, as soon as it was ready, it was dispatched to Nottingham by an attendant of the old Earl, who promised to return with all speed. Still, however, the Earl, his Nephew, and the Outlaw continued their conversation, while the stars came out bright and clear, and everything around was lost to the eye but the dim outlines of the trees. The wind whispered through the branches with a long, sighing sound, and every now and then, in the manifold long pauses that broke the conference, the rustling noise was heard of a withered leaf dropping upon its dead companions that once flourished green upon the same bough, but had fallen before it to the earth. It was as an image of the passing away of mortal life; and such, probably, as the rustle of that leaf, is the only sound that rises up to superior beings as, one by one, we drop into the tomb which has received before us the bright and beautiful we have known; an existence is extinguished, a state of being is over, and other things are ready to spring up from the mouldering remnants of our decay. At length, however, the quick ear of the Outlaw caught something more: a creeping, quiet, but rapid noise--and exclaiming "Hark!" he looked around, adding in a loud voice, "Who goes there?" There was no answer, but the instant after, with a bound from the top of the bank, came down the dwarf Tangel into the party below. "Ha! Robin--ha!" he exclaimed--"I never yet could discover whether thou art ass or hare." "How now, sirrah?" cried Robin Hood, striking him a light blow with his hand; "I pr'ythee find more savoury comparisons." "Why one or the other thou must be," said Tangel, "by thy long ears. Do what I will, I cannot catch thee napping. But I think thou art most like a hare, which we see sitting with one long ear resting, while the other stands upright, like a sentinel upon the top of a mound. But I have come far, Robin, to bring a lady's errand to a truant knight. Here, runaway--here is a billet for thee!--It was sent for Robin Hood or any of his people--the messenger took me for a people, and so gave it to me, though, Heaven knows, they might as well have taken me for a steeple, as far as the difference of size is concerned." As he spoke, he handed a small billet or note, to the Outlaw, who stirred the fire into a blaze, and was opening it to read, when he remarked some words written on the outside, which ran--"To the Lord Hugh of Monthermer, with speed, if he may be found--If not, for Robin Hood of Sherwood." "'Tis for you, my lord," said Robin, handing it to Hugh, who instantly tore it open, and ran his eye eagerly over the contents. When he had done so, he turned back again and read aloud, omitting one sentence at the beginning. "Your accuser is Richard de Ashby,"--so ran the letter; "and I tremble when I tell you my suspicion lest it should be unjust. But I have marked it on his face,--I have seen it in his changing colour,--I have heard it in the very tone of his voice. There is an impression upon me which nothing can efface that this deed was his. I know not how to counsel or advise, but it is fitting that you should know this; your own wisdom must do the rest. I fear for you; I fear for my brother Alured, too. There is but one between that man and the wealth and rank which he has long envied; he has gone too far to pause at any human means; and my apprehensions are very great for him who stands in the way." "Thus it is," said the old Earl--"thus it is with the wicked; they very often contrive to cloak their acts from the wise and prudent of this world, but to innocence and simplicity seems to be given light from Heaven to detect them under any disguise." "Give me a woman for finding out man's heart," cried Robin Hood; "that is, if she loves him not; for then all are fools.--But, come, my lord--let us seek a better place of shelter for the night; my blood is not very chilly, but still I feel it cold.--Make much of Tangel, merry men, and give him a leg of the bustard and a cup of wine; but look to the flask, look to the flask, with him. Remember last Christmas eve, Tangel, when you mistook a stag-hound for a damsel in distress, and sagely wondered in your drunkenness how she came by such a beard." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.