ey betook themselves to Barnesdale after the wedding, leaving my lord
of Hereford gownless and fuming in the organ-loft of the little church
at Plympton. His guard was variously disposed about the sacred edifice:
two of the bowmen being locked up in the tiny crypt; three in the
belfry, "to ring us a wedding peal," as Robin said, and the others in
the vestry or under the choir seats in the chancel. The old baron had
been forced to climb a high tree, and had been left in the branches of
it feebly railing at them.

Then they all came back into Barnesdale, there to make a proper
wedding-feast, after which Allan carried off his bride and her maids to
his own home in the north, promising stoutly to return to them in due
season.

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Whereupon the Bishop had withdrawn and the baron had commenced an attack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