upon their knees also.

"My lord King," said Robin, in hushed voice, "I crave mercy for my men
and for myself. We have not chosen this life from any wickedness, but
rather have come to it perforce."

The King towered amongst them. "Swear," cried he, in clear, loud voice.
"Swear that you will forsake your wild ways, Robin Fitzooth, and will
come with your men into my Court, and be good and faithful subjects from
this night, and I will give you all the pardon that you crave."

"We will come into your Court and into your service, sire," answered
Robin, gratefully, "nor ask anything better in this world than that."

The King bade them rise and continue their sports. "Night is come and I
must ask a lodging of you--even as your chaplain gave me of his
hospitality yester e'en," he said, comfortably. "And tell me, Robin,
where is your Marian? What laggard in love are you to be here without
her?"

"Nay, sire," said the little page, coming forward, "Robin is no laggard,
nor am I far to seek. He is a very valiant, honorable man, and should
indeed be a knight of this realm, if all men had their deserts."

Richard smiled then, and bent his haughty head to kiss the little hand
she had extended to him. "Thou speakest truth, lady," he answered. "And
I had not forgotten how the fair lands of Broadweald once were in Hugh
Fitzooth's honest keeping. It may be that they will return to his son
one day, for folks tell me that Guy of Gisborne is no more."

He turned to Scarlett. "And you are Master Geoffrey of Montfichet," said
he, fixing his keen eyes on the other's face, "son of my father's
friend, George Montfichet of Gamewell? And prithee, Master Geoffrey,
what have you done with my little cousin, Aimee of Aragon?"

Scarlett confusedly explained that she was safe in his father's hall at
Gamewell. "It seemeth, then, that you also have stolen from our Sheriff
at Nottingham, Master Scarlett?" Richard observed, quizzing him. "Surely
all men's hands are against Monceux!"

"Even as all men's hands are against venomous reptiles and the like,"
observed the friar, nodding his head. He had recovered from the buffet
which Richard's hand had dealt, and had seated himself conveniently to
watch the scene. He was truly the one least put about by it.

The King eyed him, and smiled to note his quiet self-possession. "What
can I find for you, brother?" he asked, indulgently. "Some fat living,
where there are no wicked to chastise, and where the w