Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 98 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

= a 6 a eee — - . — ee I saw bim ride, for he hath a way of striking with the lance which no other man in England ossesses. But comfort your grace, for the man ath near run his course, and your grace shall have the lady while he roams the woods in the cold alone.” John’s eyes brightened and he looked round as if to be satisfied that. they were alone, before he said: ‘* Art sure of her, bishop? Will her father give her up to me?’ The bishop smiled sardonically. ‘“‘The Baron Fitz Walter is poor and needs lands. If King Henry could buy Fair Rosamond of her father, the Earl of Clifford, methinks Prince John can buy this Marian of a petty baron like Fitz Walter.” The prince looked long and earnestly at him. **But an she love this outlaw, as meseemeth she does, how shall I get her?” ‘‘Nay, then, we must take her to another Woodstock, and hide her there,” said the bishop, shrewdly. ‘‘’T will not be hard, my liege.” ‘* Well, well, be it so,” answered John, sinking back on his pillow, wonrsedly, ‘*T would War- man were come, though. would have him raise the county to hunt this traitor earl.” Even as he spoke, came a soft knock at the door, and the very man they were speaking of, e and languid, dragged himself weariedly to the room and fell on his knees by the cpein couch. It was Sir Roger Warman, no onger in armor, but in the robe of a civic digni- tary of the day, while his hobbling pace and painful movements told of the beating he had received. “Well, Warman, thou hast failed,” said the prince, in a tone of resignation. ‘I see it all and I knew it before thou camest; for the trai- tor hath been here this very day. By the head of my father, but that I thought thou hadst killed him I should have known him to-day. Come, out with thy tale. He gave thee the slip. Where are thy men?’ ‘*My liege,” stammered Warman, ‘‘ we caught him fairly, and had he been a man would have killed him. But this is no man, but a limb of the foul fiend himself. My men set on him, fif- |teen in steel-caps, with sword, and staff, and he ‘shot them all, one after the other,so they lay dead in a row by Sherwood Forest.” _ “And thyself! how with thee?’ asked the princely slowly, rising on his elbow. “A caitiff that was with him shot my horse, and then the fiend-earl came at me himself with his staff. Your grace knowsI am no coward, _andtI fought hard for my life, but he hath the strength of ten, and he near broke mine arm and leg, and did so belabor me that no spot have I on my body save under my cuirass and helmet, that is not black and blue.” And the unlucky sheriff groaned in spirit over is punishment and became silent. Prince John lay ruminating for some minutes ere he replied. At last he roused up and spoke: ‘**Thou sayest well, he is a devil; but we will take him yet, Thou art the sheriff of Notting- ham. Rouse thee and cal! out all thy posse. I swear that this outlaw shall swing from a gibbet over the gate of Loxley Castle, ere I be two weeks older. Rouse thee then, Sir Roger, and show thou art worthy of the spurs of knight- hood that [ have given thee. Take a hundred— five hundred—nay a thousand men, if need be, but bring me the outlawed earl wherever he hides himself.” sir Roger Warman rose slowly and painfully to his feet and bowed low. Then he turned and eft the room. Pelee? CHAPTER VI. R* MY PRETTY PAGE. Tap Lady Marian Fitz Walter sat at her broid- ery frame, among her maids, that same evening, working at a silk banner by the light of a swing- ing silver lamp, when a pretty boy of fourteen, with long peas oma burst into the room ager salutation: Wet lade cousin, have you heard the news? The men are all to go out to-morrow to scour the woods and take the Earl of Huntington, deat or alive.” Marian’s face flushed slightly and then valed. ‘No, sir page, I had not heard of it. Who is o 99) | vimald Fitz Walter was her cousin and the eit Loxley Castle, petted by the ladies for is handsome face, and as full of mischief as any poy of his age could be. He tossed his black eurls aside from his brow as he answered her: “Prince John and the queen have roclaimed the hue and cry after him, and Sir Roger War- man, the new sheriff of Nottingham, has raised <<, whole county-side for to-morrow. Marry, re, .and ran away with a laugh on his Robin Hood. our old friend Robin will have hot work to es- ‘Tis a foul shame that the poor young earl should be so harried,” observed Cicely, one of the maids. ‘‘ What has he done that the prince | should hate him?” ‘*He has beaten him at every point, that is all,” answered Marian, in a tone of bitter sar- casm. ‘‘ Let them hunt as long as they will. Robin Fitzooth, Earl of Huntington, will give them all the work they want, or I mistake me much, girls. Come, we are working too late into the night. Put away the frames. I am tired.” She spoke in a tone of unusual pettishness, she who was noted for her sweet and sunny temper, and the bower maidens started up in some trepidation to obey her, for the Lady Marian was understood to have a will of her own, when she chose to exercise it. The girls hastened to carry off the embroidery frames, and while they were thus busied Reginald the page found time to approach the young lady and hand her a small white note, unseen by the rest. Marian started, flushed crimson and _ hastil hid the note without looking at it, after whic she affected to be tired and sleepy and hurried her attendants away from the room. As they went, she said in a low voice to Reginald; ‘*Go to the top of the keep. It is moonlight and we can talk there undisturbed.” The boy nodded with a look of sly intelligence ip. ‘* Now, by my halidome,” he said to himself, as he traversed the corridorsof the castle on his way to the rendezvous, ‘‘our fair cousin is like all the rest of the ladies. The old love pales when the prince’s love appears. The Lad Marian will be a second Rosamond and I shall be a belted knight before my time.” He was awild, harum-scarum boy of little principle, and had readily yielded to the bribe offered by Prince John, whose letter he had just delivered to Marian. He little thought for what she had mistaken it. Reginald traversed the tong gallery that joined the living apartments of the castle to the great square ‘‘ keep” or citadel on whose roof he was to meet his cousin. This keep was a feature of ali medieval castles, a huge tower, generally square and made of masonry some thirty or forty feet thick in many cases, the apartments being used solely as stores for arms and refuges for the remnant of the garrison, in case of a successful assault by an enemy on the other portions of the castle. Right through the center of this huge mass of stone ran a narrow spiral | staircase, leading up to the flat roof surrounded by battlements, on which the page and the lady | were to meet. Reginald reached the summit and found that the full moon flooded the land- scape with a luminous haze under whieh bill and dale were transfigured into a blaze of glory. He paced the summit for some minutes, during which .everything below him seemed still as death, and the boy somehow began to feel | ashamed of himself under the pure air of heaven. * Poor Robin!” he murmured, to himself; “I fear me the prince has treated thee scurvily, and that t have done wrong to take letters to Marian from thine enemy. But it is too late to turn back now. The prince will be king very soon, and he can do aught he will to a good ginald Fitz Walter at fifteen. But how'if—”_ He was interrupted by a white apparition | coming to meet him by the battlements. It was | his cousin Marian, her face as pale as her robes, and her great blue eyes shining with a strange angry luster, as she looked atthe page. Reginald began to fee} frightened at his deed. “So!” began the lady, in alow tone of intense scorn; ‘it seemeth that the absent have foes, the present none but friends where thow art concerned, my pretty page. Tell me truly,my noble cousin Reginald, know’st thou the contents of that letter thou didst give me?” ‘Nay, how could I tell?’ answered Reginald, half sullenly. ‘*You looked pleased enough to get it, Lady Marian.” ‘““And why?’ she echoed, in the same tone of scorn. ‘* Thou knowest well. Because I thought twas from my own Robin, the people’s friend, the noblest earl in all England, driven by trai- tors to lie out in the forest, when he is the peer of any that ever stood by England’s throne. And thou, my cousin! thou, of my father’s own blood, that thou shouldst turn traitor to me, and bring me a vile love-tale from a prince whose name is lmked with naught but dishonor! Oh, Reginald, I could not have dreamed that a Fitz Walter would turn eraven!” ee ee LL ttt te, eR Lt em } | ‘*Tam no craven,” retorted the page, turning | away his head, to harden himself against the looks of his beautiful cousin, ‘ Princes are not _ like others.” ‘**Dost thou know what was in that letter?’ 'asked Marian, in the same tone of angry in- quiry. ‘* No, I tell thee,” snapped the boy. “T will tell thee then, and thou shalt judge if ‘tis a message for one of our blood to take to a lady of our house from a man who is already wed, This prince, the same whom I saw stretch- ed on the sod this very day ’neath the lance of Robin, Earl of Huntington, calls me, ME ‘his | sweet love,’ and asks me to don a page’s dress, | leave the castle, and flee with his servants to | | another Woodstock as Rosamond Clifford once did with his father, only to die by the just ven- geance of the queen, John’s own mother. Dost thou hear, Reginald? Is that a letter for a page | of our house to bring to its only daughter? Am _ Lone to become the plaything of a caitiff prince, when the best knight in all England is dying for my love? Shame on thee, shame on thee, Regi- nald, to hurt me so!” | The lady burst into angry tears as she spoke, and the boy looked thoroughly ashamed of | sry as well as he might. Presently he "ereeas’™ . ‘** Weep not, cousin Marian. The deed is not _done yet, and it may be undone or turned into ood, if thou wilt.” ‘¢ But thou—wilt thou help me init?” she asked in a tone of intense eagerness, and stopping in her tears at once. | The boy hesitated. | “I might, but—the prince will never forgive me. He has promised to make ‘me a knight and | puf me in attendance on his own person, if I _ persuade thee to flee.” | ‘**But if I show thee a way by which thou canst help me, wilt thou have courage to follow it?” she persisted. | ‘Come, cousin Reginald, ’tis but the choice ’ between the spurs of a carpet knight, that will end in being hacked off by a cook’s cleaver, when King Richard returns. He is Robin’s close friend, as thou know’st, and will avenge him on his foes when he comes back.” ‘‘He may never come back,” returned the boy, doubtfully. ‘“* He left Palestine more than a year gone, and none have heard from him since that day. It issaid that heis dead and that John will be king in name as well as deed within the year.” ‘And J say that he is alive and will return witbin the year,” retorted Marian, confidently. 4 ‘* Now then, wilt thou help me or him?” ‘“*T dare not help thee,” said the boy, growing pale. ‘*He would find it out and kill me.” “And thou wilt be a belted knight!” said Marian ina tone of bitter scorn. ‘* Well, sup- pose the spurs on thy heels, and thy horse be- neath thee. Will that make thee a man to meet Robin face to face, as thou wilt have to » do, soon?” ‘*Robin will hurt no man after to-morrow,”’ answered the page, sullenly. ‘‘He will be swung from a gibbet ere the sun go down,” “Now by Our Lady’s grace he shall not !” cried Marian with sudden energy. ‘‘ Go then, coward and craven, since thou art thus traitor to thy blood and race. J will go to my father myself, show him this letter, and tell him whe , sent it, and who brought it, Farewell, Regi- friend. It will sound well to be ealled Sir Re- | nald.” She turned to depart in a flood of indignation, wnen the boy, recalled to his better feelings, ran after her and cried: ‘‘ Stay, cousin Marian, I did but jest. 1 swear by the light of the oe holy sacramental candle that I will help thee, Is that enough?” Marian hesitated. | “Thon wilt do all I ask, even to danger te | thyself?” | Twill, indeed.” “Then all is safe and thy danger shall be nothing,” she said, in atone of delight. ‘ Lis- ten, Reginald, I have a plan to cozen this prince, and thou shalt execute it for me. Go to him, and tell him that I will flee with him, but not as he proposes. “T'will be too dangerous. Tell him he must seem to go a-hunting in the forest to-morrow, with none but the Bishop of Here- ford and a small train. Tell him that he will meet in the forest a page, who will take him | to me, and that the Bishop of Hereford must be with him to bless our union in the Chapel of St. Hubert. That is all.” ‘But this cannot be,” urged the boy. ‘The forest will be swept by srmed men to-morrow, and you cannot keep your tryst.” Marian’s lip curled as she asked: ‘“‘Dost think me a fool, sir page. Tell the —— ee (Ero) gauve oyoyo < feel aah