Robin was vexed at this, and saw that they must come to some agreement if they would keep the company alive. He talked with Warrenton and Much and some of the others, and they all pressed him to assume the captaincy by right of his skill with the bow. They decided between them to have a full council on the morrow and come to a decision: for without a captain they were as a ship without a rudder.
The early morning found Robin walking thoughtfully in the greenwood. He hoped that he might discover Little John returning to them, repentant. He had taken a strange liking to this great giant of a man.
As he walked, he drew insensibly toward the highroad; but had not nearly reached it when he came upon a herd of deer feeding peacefully in a glade. Robin got his bow ready. Before he could fit a shaft to it, however, one of the finest beasts fell suddenly, pierced by a clever arrow.
Immediately he thought that Little John had indeed returned; and was about to emerge from his hiding-place, when a handsome little page ran gleefully towards the dying buck from the other side of the glade. This was plainly the archer; and Robin, after a swift glance of surprise, moved out upon him. "How dare you shoot the King's beasts, stripling?" asked Robin, very severely.
"I have as much right to shoot them as the King himself," answered the page, haughtily, and by no means afraid. "And who are you who dares to question me?"
His voice stirred Robin strangely; yet he could fit no memory properly to it. The lad was very handsome, slim, dark-haired, and with regular features.
"My name is my own," said Robin to him, "and I do not like your answering of a plain question. Keep a civil tongue in your head, boy, or you will one day be whipped."
"Not by you, forester," cried the page, pulling out a little sword. "Put up your hands, or draw your weapon. You shall have such answering now as you can understand."
He flourished his point valiantly; and Robin saw nothing for it but to draw also. The page thereupon engaged him quite fiercely; but Robin soon perceived that the lad was no great master of the art of fencing.
Still, he played prettily, and to end it Robin allowed himself to be pricked on the hand. "Are you satisfied, fellow?" said the page, seeing the blood rise to the wound.
"Ay, honestly," said Robin, "and now, perhaps, you will grant me the privilege of knowing to whom I owe this scratch?"
"I am Gilbert of Blois," replied the page, with dignity; and again his voice troubled Robin sorely. He was certain that he had met with it before; but this name was strange to his ears.
"What do you in the greenwood at such an hour, good Master Gilbert?"
The lad considered his answer, whilst wiping his sword daintily with a pretty kerchief. The action brought a dim confused memory to Robin--a blurred recollection of that scene discovered in the wizard's crystal troubled his thoughts. Meanwhile the little page had condescended to glance upon him.
"Forester," said he, somewhat awkwardly, "can you tell me--do you know aught of one Robin o' th' Hood? He is believed to have been killed in the fall o' last year, and truly they brought a body into Nottingham. He was a merry youth."
"This is brother to my Marian!" cried Robin, inwardly. "Ay, for sure, 'tis the lad Fitzwalter, and no Gilbert of Bloist Yet Warrenton did not tell me that there was a brother."
He replied to the page. "Did not this fellow, this Robin, have other name? Robin o' th' Hood--why, all of them wear their capes and hoods nowadays--how can such a man as I know him whom you seek, to say whether he be dead or alive?"
"Forester, he was much like to you; but had no beard, nor was he quite so uncouth as you. I mean no offence. I saw him but twice; but he seemed a lovable fellow. I remember that some called him Robin of Locksley."
"I knew him right well," said Robin, in decided tones. "Come with me, Master Gilbert, and you shall hear of him."
"He lives, then?" The page's blue eyes glistened happily.
"Did your--sister send you, Master Gilbert?" asked Robin, with his heart in his mouth.
The boy gave him a puzzled stare. "My sister--who told you that I had a sister?" Then, changing his policy with swift intuition: "Ay, my sister did send me to find the man. Bring me to him."
"Follow me, Master Gilbert of Blois," cried Robin. So Marian had remembered him. It was a happy morning, indeed!
