“My lord, and my lady, and Athelstane, and Hundibert, and Oswald.”
“In the name of God!” said Gurth, “how came they prisoners? — and to whom?”
“Our master was too ready to fight,” said the Jester; “and Athelstane was not ready enough, and no other person was ready at all. And they are prisoners to green cassocks, and black visors. And they lie all tumbled about on the green, like the crab-apples that you shake down to your swine. And I would laugh at it,” said the honest Jester, “if I could for weeping.” And he shed tears of unfeigned sorrow.
Gurth’s countenance kindled — “Wamba,” he said, “thou hast a weapon, and thy heart was ever stronger than thy brain, — we are only two — but a sudden attack from men of resolution will do much — follow me!”
“Whither? — and for what purpose?” said the Jester.
“To rescue Cedric.”
“But you have renounced his service but now,” said Wamba.
“That,” said Gurth, “was but while he was fortunate — follow me!”
As the Jester was about to obey, a third person suddenly made his appearance, and commanded them both to halt. From his dress and arms, Wamba would have conjectured him to be one of those outlaws who had just assailed his master; but, besides that he wore no mask, the glittering baldric across his shoulder, with the rich bugle-horn which it supported, as well as the calm and commanding expression of his voice and manner, made him, notwithstanding the twilight, recognise Locksley the yeoman, who had been victorious, under such disadvantageous circumstances, in the contest for the prize of archery.
“What is the meaning of all this,” said he, “or who is it that rifle, and ransom, and make prisoners, in these forests?”
“You may look at their cassocks close by,” said Wamba, “and see whether they be thy children’s coats or no — for they are as like thine own, as one green pea-cod is to another.”
“I will learn that presently,” answered Locksley; “and I charge ye, on peril of your lives, not to stir from the place where ye stand, until I have returned. Obey me, and it shall be the better for you and your masters. — Yet stay, I must render myself as like these men as possible.”
So saying he unbuckled his baldric with the bugle, took a feather from his cap, and gave them to Wamba; then drew a vizard from his pouch, and, repeating his charges to them to stand fast, went to execute his purposes of reconnoitring.
“Shall we stand fast, Gurth?” said Wamba; “or shall we e’en give him leg-bail? In my foolish mind, he had all the equipage of a thief too much in readiness, to be himself a true man.”
“Let him be the devil,” said Gurth, “an he will. We can be no worse of waiting his return. If he belong to that party, he must already have given them the alarm, and it will avail nothing either to fight or fly. Besides, I have late experience, that errant thieves are not the worst men in the world to have to deal with.”
The yeoman returned in the course of a few minutes.
“Friend Gurth,” he said, “I have mingled among yon men, and have learnt to whom they belong, and whither they are bound. There is, I think, no chance that they will proceed to any actual violence against their prisoners. For three men to attempt them at this moment, were little else than madness; for they are good men of war, and have, as such, placed sentinels to give the alarm when any one approaches. But I trust soon to gather such a force, as may act in defiance of all their precautions; you are both servants, and, as I think, faithful servants, of Cedric the Saxon, the friend of the rights of Englishmen. He shall not want English hands to help him in this extremity. Come then with me, until I gather more aid.”
So saying, he walked through the wood at a great pace, followed by the jester and the swineherd. It was not consistent with Wamba’s humour to travel long in silence.
“I think,” said he, looking at the baldric and bugle which he still carried, “that I saw the arrow shot which won this gay prize, and that not so long since as Christmas.”
“And I,” said Gurth, “could take it on my halidome, that I have heard the voice of the good yeoman who won it, by night as well as by day, and that the moon is not three days older since I did so.”
“Mine honest friends,” replied the yeoman, “who, or what I am, is little to the present purpose; should I free your master, you will have reason to think me the best friend you have ever had in your lives. And whether I am known by one name or another — or whether I can draw a bow as well or better than a cow-keeper, or whether it is my pleasure to walk in sunshine or by moonlight, are matters, which, as they do not concern you, so neither need ye busy yourselves respecting them.”
“Our heads are in the lion’s mouth,” said Wamba, in a whisper to Gurth, “get them out how we can.”
“Hush — be silent,” said Gurth. “Offend him not by thy folly, and I trust sincerely that all will go well.”
Chapter 20
When autumn nights were long and drear,
And forest walks were dark and dim,
How sweetly on the pilgrim’s ear
Was wont to steal the hermit’s hymn
Devotion borrows Music’s tone,
And Music took Devotion’s wing;
And, like the bird that hails the sun,
They soar to heaven, and soaring sing.
The Hermit of St Clement’s Well
It was after three hours’ good walking that the servants of Cedric, with their mysterious guide, arrived at a small opening in the forest, in the centre of which grew an oak-tree of enormous magnitude, throwing its twisted branches in every direction. Beneath this tree four or five yeomen lay stretched on the ground, while another, as sentinel, walked to and fro in the moonlight shade.
Upon hearing the sound of feet approaching, the watch instantly gave the alarm, and the sleepers as suddenly started up and bent their bows. Six arrows placed on the string were pointed towards the quarter from which the travellers approached, when their guide, being recognised, was welcomed with every token of respect and attachment, and all signs and fears of a rough reception at once subsided.
“Where is the Miller?” was his first question.
“On the road towards Rotherham.”
“With how many?” demanded the leader, for such he seemed to be.
“With six men, and good hope of booty, if it please St Nicholas.”
“Devoutly spoken,” said Locksley; “and where is Allan-a-Dale?”
“Walked up towards the Watling-street, to watch for the Prior of Jorvaulx.”
“That is well thought on also,” replied the Captain; — “and where is the Friar?”
“In his cell.”
“Thither will I go,” said Locksley. “Disperse and seek your companions. Collect what force you can, for there’s game afoot that must be hunted hard, and will turn to bay. Meet me here by daybreak. — And stay,” he added, “I have forgotten what is most necessary of the whole — Two of you take the road quickly towards Torquilstone, the Castle of Front-de-Boeuf. A set of gallants, who have been masquerading in such guise as our own, are carrying a band of prisoners thither — Watch them closely, for even if they reach the castle before we collect our force, our honour is concerned to punish them, and we will find means to do so. Keep a close watch on them therefore; and dispatch