"Be not robbers to any who are poor and who are good fellows--having only their poverty against them. Be kind to those who help you, but exact toll as heretofore of all who come through the greenwood. The rich to pay in money, and blood--if it be necessary."
He added these words with an effort; and his mind wandered in the shadowy fields of death. Robin saw how his fingers twitched, as if they plucked still the cord of his good yew bow. He smoothed back Will's dark hair from off his brow, and put water to the outlaw's lips. Will o' th' Green glanced up at him, and something of his old expression--half-grim, half-smiling--showed that he struggled still to hold hands with life.
"For you, Locksley," he muttered, puckering his brows, "there are two roads open. One, to yield thyself to Monceux and the rack--for not even your uncle at Gamewell should save you, even did he so wish; the other--to join with these honest fellows and live a free life. What else is left to you? If you would be as dutiful to the laws as the earth to summer sun, it should not avail you. Your lord the Sheriff is in the hands of his girl--and she listens with willing ear to Master Carfax. Ask not how I know these things. Your cousin is outlawed----"
"I shall live in the greenwood, Will," answered Robin, quietly, "with your brave men and you--if so be I may. Have I won now the freedom of the forest?" He showed him the broken peacocked arrow which the Clerk of Copmanhurst had given him.
The outlaw held up his right hand and laid it on Robin's bowed head: "Upon you, Robin of Locksley, do I bestow, with this my last breath, full freedom of the forests of England," he said, very loudly. Then he relaxed from his frown to a rare smile. "Learn this sign----" he said, and showed Robin, with feeble fingers, how the greenwood men knew each other in any disguise. It was a simple signal, very easy to know, yet very sure. No one might suppose it given by accident--yet of design it appeared quite innocent. The smile was fading from Will's face as Robin repeated it carefully after him; and even as he spoke again he died.
"Farewell--friends all--take this brother into your good company, and make him and those with him right welcome. I pray you to remember and abide by those kindly rules which have always--always----"
His speech fell away into meaningless words, and the light left his face. He moved in Robin's arms and sighed. Then, as his body rolled slowly over, and he lay with his back turned to them, they saw that his worst wound was in it--a dastard's blow. So ended the life of Will o' th' Green--or Will of Cloudesley: he of whom many stories have been told in other books.
They took him up reverently and buried him in a secret place--so that none to this day can say where he lies. And the outlaws swore an oath of vengeance against him who had so foully slain their chief.
Robin guessed wisely that the mortal blow had been given by one of those two traitors in Will's own camp. Had they not been riding with Carfax in the early morn--not as prisoners-of-war--but as informers and spies?
* * * * *
The next day was passed in burying the dead of both sides. The outlaws accepted Robin without question as one full welcome amongst them; and Warrenton, Stuteley, and John Berry were also given the freedom of the woods and taught the signs and freemasonry of them.
The bodies of the soldiers and mercenaries were stripped and heaped together into a pit, and roughly covered with earth and leaves. Then the outlaws betook themselves to their caves to settle who should be chief of the band in Will's place.
Whilst they were employed in this difficult business, the Sheriff sent out another and larger body of armed men--obeying the insolent command of his Prince. Fear sat upon the soul of Monceux then: for he did not doubt that another such disaster as that which had chanced to his other men would mean disgrace and the end of his lord-shrievalty.
This second company who were captained by Hubert the Archer, with bandaged Carfax second in command, had an easy conquest, however, of Sherwood and Barnesdale--for none challenged them, nor questioned their proceedings in any respect. Nor was there sign left in the woods of Robin or the outlaws--they were vanished so utterly that Carfax conceived them all to have either died of their wounds or fled disconsolate from the neighborhood.
