Robin Hood. Chapter 2

Robin Hood. Chapter 2

Fifteen years have passed since that event; calm and happiness have not ceased to reign under the roof of the forester, and the orphan still believes himself to be the beloved son of Margaret and Gilbert Head. 

One fine June morning, an elderly man, dressed as a well-to-do peasant and riding a vigorous pony, was walking along the road that leads through Sherwood Forest to the pretty village of Mansfeldwoohaus. 

The sky was clear. Our traveler's face rejoiced under the influence of so beautiful a day; His chest dilated, he breathed at the top of his lungs, and in a loud and sonorous voice he threw into the air the refrain of an old Saxon hymn, a hymn to the death of tyrants. 

Suddenly an arrow whistled past his ear and embedded itself in the branch of an oak tree by the roadside. 

The peasant, more surprised than frightened, threw himself on his horse, hid behind a tree, brandished his bow, and prepared to defend himself. 

But however much he scanned the path in its entire length, however much he scrutinized the surrounding mounds with his eyes and applied his ear to the slightest noises of the forest, he saw nothing, heard nothing, and did not know what to make of this unforeseen attack. 

"Let us see," he said, "since patience leads to nothing, let us try cunning." 

And calculating according to the direction of the arrow's trajectory the place where his enemy might be stationed, he fired a dart to that side in the hope of frightening the evildoer or provoking him to move. The arrow cleft space, went to pierce the bark of a tree, and no one responded to that provocation. Would a second dart perhaps succeed? That second dart departed, but was stopped in mid-flight. An arrow shot from an invisible bow intercepted his path, almost at right angles, above the path, and sent him tumbling to the ground in pirouettes. The blow had been so rapid, so unexpected, announced so much skill and such great skill of hand and eye, that the peasant, amazed and forgetting so much danger, jumped out of his hiding-place. 

"What a shot!" What a wonderful shot! He shouted as he jumped along the edge of the thicket trying to discover the mysterious archer. 

A joyful laugh answered these exclamations, and not far from there an Argentine voice soft as a woman's sang: 

"There are fallow deer in the forest, there are flowers on the edge of the great forests..." 

"Oh! It's Robin, the shameless Robin Hood who sings. Come here, my son. So you dare to shoot your father? By St. Dunstand, I thought the "outlaws" wanted my skin! Oh! You're a bad boy! Take my gray head for white! Ah! "Why," added the good old man, "why, how naughty!" 

A young man who appeared to be twenty years old, though in reality he was only sixteen, stopped before the old peasant, in whom you will no doubt have recognized the good Gilbert Head of the first chapter of our story. 

The young man was smiling with his green hat in his hand, adorned with a heron feather. A mass of slightly wavy black hair crowned a broad forehead whiter than ivory. Her eyelids, folded in on themselves, let the glow of two dark blue pupils burst out, the light of which was veiled under the fringe of the long eyelashes that cast their shadow on her rosy cheeks. 

The dry air had toasted that noble physiognomy, but the satin whiteness of the skin reappeared at the birth of the neck and under the cuffs. 

A hat with a heron's feather for a plume, a doublet of Lincoln's green cloth tied at the waist, high boots of fallow deerskin, a pair of "unhege sceo" (Saxon boots) tied with strong straps above the ankles, a spiked sash of shining steel supporting a quiver full of arrows, the small horn and the hunting knife at the waist,  and the bow in his hand, constituted Robin Hood's attire and equipment, and his ensemble full of originality was far from concealing the adolescent beauty. 

"Forgive me, father. I had no intention of hurting you. 

"Pardiez!" I believe you, son, but it could have happened; a change in the speed of my horse, a step to the left or right of the line I was following, a movement of my head, a trembling of your hand, an error of your aim, anything, in short, and your game would have been deadly. 

"But my hand has not trembled, my aim is always safe. So do not reproach me, father, and forgive me for my mischief. 

"I forgive you with all my heart. 

Then he added, with a naïve sense of pride, which he had doubtless suppressed so far in order to rebuke the imprudent archer: 

"And to think that he is my student!" Yes, it was I, Gilbert Head, who first taught him how to handle a bow and shoot an arrow. The pupil is worthy of the master, and if he continues, there will be no more skilful marksman in all the county, or even in all England. 

"May my right arm lose its strength, may not a single arrow reach its target if I never forget your love, father." 

"Son, you know that I am your father only in my heart. 

"Oh! Do not speak to me of the rights that you lack over me, for if nature has denied them to you, you have acquired them with a dedication and self-denial of fifteen years. 

"On the contrary, we are going to talk about it," said Gilbert, resuming his walk on foot, and leading the pony by the bridle, whom a vigorous whistle had called to order, "a secret presentiment warns me that we are threatened by future misfortunes. 

"What a crazy idea, father! 

"You are already big, you are strong, and you are full of energy, thank God; but the future that opens before you is not the one you foresaw when, as a small and weak child, sometimes ill-tempered, now cheerful, you grew up on Margaret's knee. 

"What does that matter!" I only want one thing, and that is that the future will be like the past and the present. 

"We would grow old without any sorrow if the mystery of your birth were revealed. 

"Have you never seen the brave soldier who entrusted me to you?" 

"I have never seen him since, and I only heard from him once. 

"Perhaps he died in the war. 

"Maybe. A year after your arrival, I received through an unknown messenger a sack of money and a parchment sealed with wax, but whose seal had no weapons. I handed the parchment to my confessor, and he opened it, revealing to me the following contents, word for word: "Gilbert Head: Twelve months ago I placed a child under your protection, and made an undertaking with you to pay you an annual rent for your efforts; here I send it to you; I'm leaving England and I don't know when I'll be back. Accordingly, I have made the necessary arrangements for you to receive the amount due every year. Therefore, you will only have to present yourself on the day of the due date at the Huntingdon sheriff's office, and there you will be paid. Educate the boy as if he were your own child; on my return I will come to claim it from you." No signature, no date. Where did that message come from? I don't know. But if we are to die before the unknown knight appears, a great sadness will poison our last hour. 

"What is that great sorrow, father?" 

"That of knowing that you are alone and abandoned to yourself, and given over to your passions when you are a man. 

"You and my mother still have long days of life ahead of you. 

"God knows! 

"God will allow it. 

"His will be done!" In any case, if an imminent death separates us, you must know, my son, that you are our only heir; The hut where you have grown up is yours, the land around it is your property, and with your pension money accumulated over the last fifteen years, you will not have to fear misery and you will be able to be happy if you are prudent. Misfortune has been with you since birth and your adoptive parents have made an effort to repair this misfortune. You will often think of them, who do not aspire to any other reward. 

The adolescent was moved with tenderness; tears began to flow from between his eyelids. 

"On my way, 'Gip,' my good pony," added the old man, climbing into his saddle, "I must hurry to Mansfeldwoohaus and back, or Maggie will make a face as long as the longest of my arrows." In the meantime, dear son, exercise your dexterity, and you will soon equal Gilbert Head on his best days... See you soon. 

Robin amused himself for a few moments by tearing with his arrows the leaves he had chosen with his eyes on the top of the tallest trees; then, tired of this game, he lay down on the grass in the shade of a clearing. 

A prolonged brush in the foliage and the precipitous rustling of the undergrowth came to disturb the thoughts of our young archer; He raised his head and saw a frightened fallow deer crossing the thicket, darting through the clearing, and disappearing again into the depths of the forest. 

Robin's instant project was to take his bow and chase the animal; but, by hunter's instinct or by chance, he examined the place where he had come out, and saw at some distance a man huddled behind a mound, who dominated the road; From his hiding place the man could see without being seen everything that passed along the path, and he waited with a watchful eye, with the arrow ready. 

Suddenly the bandit or hunter shot an arrow in the direction of the road and half got up as if to jump on his target; but he stopped, swore a strong oath, and lay in wait again with an arrow in his bow. 

That new arrow was followed, like the first, by a hateful blasphemy.  

"Who is he shooting? Robin wondered. Is he trying to give a friend a fright like I gave old Gilbert this morning? The game is not one of the easiest. But I don't see anything in the place where it points; however, he must see something, because he is preparing the third arrow." 

Robin was about to leave his hiding place to try to see the unknown and bad marksman when, inadvertently pushing aside some branches of a beech tree, he saw, stopped at the end of the path and at the place where the road of Mansfeldwoohaus forms an elbow, a gentleman and a young lady who seemed very restless, and doubted whether they should turn back or face danger. The horses snorted, and the knight looked about him in order to discover the enemy and confront him, while at the same time he endeavored to calm the terror of his companion. 

Suddenly the young woman gave a cry of anguish and fell almost faint: an arrow had just embedded itself in the pommel of her chair. 

Without a doubt, the man who was hiding was a vile murderer. 

Filled with generous indignation, Robin chose one of his sharpest arrows in his quiver, brandished his bow, and took aim. The murderer's left hand was stuck in the wood of the bow that threatened the knight and his companion again. 

Roaring with anger and pain, the bandit turned his head and tried to find out where this unexpected attack came from. 

But the slender stature of our young archer kept him hidden behind the trunk of a beech tree, and the color of his doublet mingled with that of the foliage. 

Robin could have killed the bandit, but he contented himself with frightening him after he had punished him and shot him with a new arrow that took his hat twenty paces away. 

Filled with vertigo and fright, the wounded man got up and, while holding the bloody hand with his good hand, howled, kicked, and turned for a while on himself, his grim gaze wandered over the whole thicket around him, and fled crying: 

"It's the devil!" The devil! The devil! 

Robin greeted the bandit's march with a merry laugh, and sacrificed a last arrow, which, after having spurred him on as he ran, would prevent him from sitting down for a long time. 

When the danger was over, Robin came out of his hiding place and leaned casually on the trunk of an oak tree by the edge of the path; He was preparing to welcome the travellers, but as soon as they trotted up to see him, the young lady gave a cry, and the knight came towards him with his sword in his hand. 

"At last I see you, wretch! At last! cried the knight, showing signs of the most violent anger. 

"I'm not a murderer, on the contrary, it's I who saved your life.  

"Where is the murderer then?" Speak or I'll open your head. 

"Listen to me, and you will know," Robin replied coldly. As for opening my head, do not dream of it, and let me remark to you, sir, that this arrow, the point of which is directed towards you, will pierce your heart before your sword touches my skin. Be warned, and listen to me calmly: I will tell the truth. 

"I listen," replied the gentleman, fascinated by Robin's cold-bloodedness. 

"Come, sir," replied Robin, "look at me, and you will agree that I do not look like a brigand." 

"Yes, yes, my son, I confess, you don't look like a bandit," said the stranger at last, after he had considered Robin carefully. The radiant forehead, the physiognomy full of frankness, the eyes in which the fire of courage sparkled, the lips that parted in a smile of legitimate pride, everything in this noble adolescent inspired, commanded confidence. 

"Tell me who you are, and lead us, I beseech you, to a place where our horses can eat and rest," added the knight. 

"With pleasure; Follow me. 

"But accept my money first, while God's reward comes to you." 

"Keep your gold, sir knight; gold is useless to me, I have no need of gold. My name is Robin Hood, and I live with my father and mother two miles from here, on the edge of the woods; come, you will find in our little house a cordial hospitality. 

The young woman, who had hitherto stood aloof, approached her knight, and Robin saw the gleam of two large black eyes resplendent under the silk hood that preserved his head from the coolness of the morning; He also appreciated her divine beauty, and devoured her with his gaze as he bowed politely to her. 

"Should we believe this young man's word?" The lady asked her knight. 

Robin raised his head proudly, and, without giving the rider time to answer, exclaimed: 

"There would cease to be good faith on earth. The two strangers smiled; they no longer doubted.