The days came and went, and Monceux began to hope fondly that the outlaws had gone out of Sherwood. On the third morning after Allan's marriage the Bishop of Hereford came bursting into Nottingham with the old baron and the humiliated guard. The Sheriff's hopes were shattered under the furious indignation of the baron and my lord of Hereford.
It appeared that they had been released from their various positions of confinement during the evening of the marriage-day, and had forthwith hurried to the baron's castle. Thence they had set out for Allan's home in the east of the county, near to Southwell, a pretty place.
Arrived there, they had demanded reparation and the maid Fennel, and in order to be able to declare the marriage false, the Bishop had sent in a petition to the Pope whereto Mistress Fennel was led to place her hand in writing. Allan's answer was to tear the petition into little pieces and fling it at the feet of the messenger who had brought it.
Whereupon the Bishop had withdrawn and the baron had commenced an attack upon the place. After an hour or so of vain storming, Allan, at the head of a small band of retainers, had issued forth and mightily discomfited the baron and his men, beating them heartily out of the neighborhood of Southwell.
These matters, instigated and brought about by one Master Robin o' th' Hood, cried aloud for summary vengeance.
The Sheriff doubled and trebled the reward offered for his head, mentioning him above all others who were known to aid and abet him. Little John ranked next in point of infamous merit in the Sheriff's reckoning, for Monceux remembered his golden plate.
The people of Nottingham, hearing continually of this pother, fell a-chattering between themselves, and ere a week was out Monceux's reward of a hundred golden pieces for the head of Robin Hood was the one theme of conversation in the city.
No one identified him with Robin of Locksley--that brave misguided youth being so entirely dead to their minds--and he was variously named as Hood, Robin Hood, Captain Hood, and Master Robin.
A travelling tinker came at length upon the talk of the town. He had been sitting on the bench without the "Sign of the Sixteen Does," dozing and drinking, and at last seeking to do both at once.
Mine host stood near by, discussing the eternal Robin.
"Folk do say that Master Monceux has sent into Lincoln for more men-at-arms and horses, and that when he has these to hand he will soon scourge Captain Hood from our forest."
"Of whom speak you?" asked the tinker, suddenly waking up.
"Of this Robin of the Greenwood," said the innkeeper, "but you will never earn the Sheriff's hundred pieces!"
Then the tinker arose upon his dignity, and eyed the innkeeper reproachfully.
"And why will I not earn the hundred pieces, gossip?" said he, with a deadly calm in his manner.
"Where our Sheriff has failed, and a Bishop also, it is not likely that a mere tinker will succeed," mine host answered. "Pay me for your ale, gossip, and go on your way."
The tinker approached and laid a heavy hand upon the innkeeper's fat shoulder. "Friend," he said, impressively, "I am one not noted either for dullness or lack of courage. I do perpend that to earn these pieces of which you speak one must perform some worthy business. Tell it to me, and you and Nottingham shall see then what Middle the Tinker thinks on it."
At this a great clacking began, so that Master Middle only came to the gist of it in an hour. He valiantly proclaimed his intention, so soon as he did understand, of taking Robin Hood single-handed. "Why send into Lincoln and the shires when Middle the Tinker will do this business for you, gossips? I will go into your Sherwood this very day. Give me the warrant, and I'll read it to Robin to purpose, I promise you!"
They pushed him, laughing and jesting between themselves, towards Nottingham Castle, and there thrust him into the hall.
"Here is a champion come to take your pieces, Master Monceux," someone called out. "Here is Middle, the pot-valiant," cried another.
Master Middle asked for the warrant, and obtained it. Then he sallied forth, accompanied by the customers from the "Sign of the Sixteen Does" as far as the gates of the city. There he made them a long speech and left them.
They watched him making determinedly along the white road towards Barnesdale; then returned to their tankards and their talk.
