The lad came forward shyly to receive the prize.
"Master Monceux thinks that you should shoot once more with the second archer," said someone to him, leaning from the Sheriff's box. Looking up, Robin espied the lean-faced man smiling disagreeably down at him.
"Let my lord state the terms of this new contest, then," answered Robin, "and the reason for't."
"'Tis said that you were over-favored by the wind and by the light."
An angry answer was upon the lad's lips: but he checked himself, and with slow dignity turned and went back to where the archers stood grouped together. Soon as he made known to him the difficulty which the Sheriff had raised, Will o' th' Green became furious.
"Locksley, have none of this trumpery prize," cried he, in loud anger. "I do deny my right to any share in it, or to a fresh contest. Nor will I shoot again. Let Monceux vex his brain as he may with rules and conditions--they are not for Roughbeard, or for you. We have our own notions of right and justice; and since the Sheriff is loth to part with the prize that he has offered--why, yield it back to him, friend--and take the reward from me that you coupled with it."
Other indignant protests were now heard from amongst the onlookers: and the Sheriff saw that he had raised a storm indeed. "Locksley! Robin Locksley!" was shouted noisily round and about; and Warrenton and Stuteley busily fostered the tumult. Master Monceux at last bade the heralds announce that Robin of Locksley had won the golden arrow--since the archer who had made nearest points to him did not desire nor seek a further trial.
"Were it necessary, lording," muttered old Warrenton, "I would show you how to notch the arrow of the best archer here about--a merry trick, and one that I learned in Lancashire, where they have little left to learn of archery, for sure."
"Nay," put in Roughbeard, loudly, "the arrow is his without need of further parleyings. I do admit myself beaten this day--though on another occasion we will, perchance, reverse our present positions. Take or leave the arrow as you will, Locksley. For my part I would love to prick Monceux with it heartily."
"You talk wisely, friend," said Warrenton, approvingly, "and, as for making a match with you, why, that will we to-day. Do you ride with us to Gamewell and there you shall have archery and to spare."
"Ay, and a welcome, too!" commenced Robin; then paused suddenly, remembering who Roughbeard really was. Montfichet of Gamewell entertaining Will o' th' Green!
The outlaw merely laughed good-humoredly at the lad's confusion.
"Go, take the Sheriff's prize; and vex him in some way, if you can, in the accepting of it!"
Again Robin walked forward towards the Monceux box; this time with flashing eyes and a resolve in his heart.
"Robin of Locksley," said the Sheriff, scarce looking at him, "here is my golden arrow which I have offered as reward to the best bowman in this Fair. You have been accorded the prize; and I do yield it to you with sincere pleasure. Take the bauble now from our daughter's hand, and use the arrow worthily."
The heralds blew a brazen blast, and the demoiselle Monceux, with a thin smile, held out to Robin upon a silk cushion the little shining arrow which now was his. Bowing, and on one knee, Robin took up the glittering trophy.
"Surely 'tis a plaything more suited to a lady's hair than to an archer," murmured the lean-faced man, who stood close by. Catching Robin's eye, he made a significant sign, as who would say: "Here is the Queen who would adorn it."
Robin had that other notion in his mind, however, and saw that now the moment had arrived in which it should be put into execution. Somehow, he contrived to bring himself before the small low box wherein, half-startled, sat the maid Fitzwalter.
"Lady," stammered the young archer, bowing to her, "do you please accept this little arrow which I have won. It is a pretty thing; but of small use to me. Maybe you could make some ornament with it----"
Then he could go no farther; but dumbly held it out to her.
The girl, having seen that her father was not unwilling, stretched out and took the Sheriff's arrow from Robin's shaking hands.
"Thanks to you, Robin o' th' Hood," she said, with that roguish little toss of her dark curls; "I'll take the dart, and wear it in memory of Locksley and this day!" Her eyes looked frankly into his for a brief instant; then were hid by her silky lashes.
