Forest Days. G. P. R. James

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      In the midst of this green, with his arms crossed upon his chest, his eyes bent on the ground, and his brow somewhat gloomy, walked Robert of the Lees by Ely, as he had called himself, while not far off, under the shadow of a wide-spreading oak, stood a boy, holding a white horse and a bow, Robin seemed to be whiling away a time of waiting, in communing with himself of many things, with that sort of desultory meditation which woodlands gender more than any other scenes; and, ever and anon, his lips proved faithless guardians to his thoughts, muttering a word of two of what was passing in his mind, without his knowing that they did so.

      "Ha! Left Nottingham so soon with her paramour!" he said, "That was hasty!" and again he was silent for a space. "They must have heard that I had taken the chase in hand, or else the Earl has followed them closer than they expected.--How this poor youth suffers! One would think that he had lost the most precious thing on earth, instead of a light-o'-love May-day flirt!--And after, all, perhaps, he has lost the most precious thing on earth, for he has lost trust--confidence. That can never come again when once it is gone.--Besides, a woman is to us what we esteem her more than what she is. He held her to be all that is good, and so in losing her he loses all that is good,--They are idle things, these women; and yet there is good as well as bad in them. So goes the old song--

      "To whom does woman's love belong?

      And who shall hold that fickle thing?

      No iron chain was e'er so strong,

      As long to bind its fluttering wing.

      "Caught by the ear--caught by the eye--

      The handsome face, the flattering tongue,

      The pleasant smile, the well-told lie,

      May win it, but not hold it long.

      "The king has no command o'er love,

      The peasant's sweetheart jilts the swain;

      And those who stay, and these who rove,

      Seek bands for woman's heart in vain.

      "Rank, wealth, prosperity, and power,

      Have all been tried, without avail;

      Yet ne'er in dark misfortune's hour,

      Has woman's love been known to fail."

      So sung, or rather hummed, the bold forester, as he walked to and fro along the sandy path; and, as is very often the case, the song seemed the most convincing argument he could use, for it concluded the discussion with himself concerning young Harland, and he turned his thoughts to other things again.

      "They will take him by surprise," he muttered to himself in the same low tone as before; and then having uttered this vaticination, he relapsed into silence, took another turn, and said--"The King at Cambridge?--That cannot be for nothing: he has misled De Montfort--Gloucester fortifying his castles too--that looks ill! He is not to be trusted, Gloucester. He never was--he never will be.--Hark! a horse's feet! Here come the Earls!"

      Another moment, however, showed him that he was mistaken, for the horse whose tramp he heard came from the side of Nottingham, and not from that of Yorkshire. The animal itself was a good brown gelding, with a short tail, which, in those days, was a rarity, for many of the barbarous customs of the present time were then unknown. Indeed, though it may seem a contradiction in terms, civilization in general has not a little barbarism in it, and luxury is always sure to introduce practices of which savages would be ashamed. The horse, however, as I have said, was a good brown gelding with a short tail; the man that bestrode it, a jolly, large-stomached personage, in the garb of a tradesman; and the moment the forester saw him, he exclaimed, "Ha! our good friend the sutler of Southwell! What makes you ride the forest, Barnaby? You do not trouble Sherwood for nothing."

      "Seeking you, Robin--seeking you," replied the sutler. "One that you know of gave me this for you. It was to pass through no hands but mine and yours. But look ye! Here comes a goodly train. Now will there be rough work anon between the silken hoods and the men in Lincoln green. I'll away, Robin--I'll away, for I love no blows but those of the rolling pin!"

      The man to whom he spoke took no notice either of his words or his departure, so intent was he upon the contents of the letter which had just been put into his hand. He read it over twice after the messenger was gone, and seemed scarcely to remark the approach of a large party on horseback, comprising, as the reader may have divined by this time, the very personages for whom he was waiting. When he raised his eyes, however, he beheld advancing towards him, at a slow pace, some twenty mounted men, well armed, and headed by the old Earl of Monthermer. That nobleman, however, was unaccompanied by one of those whom our friend in the Lincoln green was the most anxious to see, the Earl of Ashby being, as the reader is well aware, on the other side of Nottingham.

      The party of old Monthermer, as he was called, consisted of himself and his servants alone, having sent away all the other noblemen and gentlemen who had met him in Yorkshire, to find their way, in separate bodies to join their friends in London. His nephew, too, for reasons that the old lord saw and well approved, had gone on with the Earl of Ashby; and the only addition to his train since we last saw him, was a stout old priest, his chaplain, who had been previously dispatched on a mission to Northumberland.

      At a distance of about twenty yards from the spot where the bold forester stood, the Earl pulled up his horse and dismounted slowly, giving the word to halt. He then advanced directly towards, him, holding out his hand, which the other took with an air of respect and deference, but without the least approach to fawning.

      "Welcome to Sherwood, my good lord," said Robert of the Lees. "But why come you alone? Would not the noble Earl of Ashby trust himself amidst these shades?"

      "He had left me, Robin," replied the Earl, "before I got your message, with his son Alured and my nephew Hugh. He set out for Nottingham yesterday, just after morning song."

      "Ha!" exclaimed the forester, his brow growing dark. "'Tis strange I heard not of it. Gone to Nottingham, just after morning song? He might have been there by noon; and yet he was not."

      "No, no," answered the Earl, "he could not arrive by noon. He had matters of some moment to see to by the way. But were you so anxious to have some speech with him?"

      "I was," answered the forester, abruptly. "I was.--But it matters not--I will send him a message; and now, my lord, will you mount your horse again; and come with me? I have much to say to you, and many things to tell, some of which you know, perhaps, already, but some of which you have never heard."

      "I can but stay an hour," replied the Earl; "for I must forward to Nottingham to supper, and that will be a late one, even now."

      "We have supper ready for you, my good lord," answered the forester; "and you, at least, need not fear to ride through Sherwood in the eventide."

      "No feasting on the King's venison, Robin!" cried the Earl, with a laugh; "but still our meal must be short, for I have business to do to-night of more importance than my supper. Shall I bid the men come on with me, or to stay here till I return?"

      "Let them follow--let them follow," said the forester; "but keep them out of earshot--the priest especially. Ho, boy! bring up my horse."

      More at a sign by which he accompanied the call than at the words themselves, the boy, whom we have mentioned as holding a white horse under one СКАЧАТЬ