x, knew all along that
Little John was not guilty, and yet did seek to hang him."

"Sire, he stole my plate also, and had been excommunicated by my lord of
Hereford."

"Take Roger and hang him speedily," cried the King, to end it. "And
bring me to the Bishop. Stay!" he called to the quickly retreating
Sheriff; "ere you go, Monceux, learn that from henceforward you must
look for patronage from this my lord of Nottingham," he added, with a
gesture. "He will be your master, and you will hold the feof of
Nottingham Castle at his hands."

"Will Scarlett--Master Geoffrey of Montfichet--you?" gasped Monceux.

"Even I, Master Sheriff," replied the man of many names.

"Know also, Monceux," added Richard, indicating Robin and his men,
"these are my archers and especial guards. From now the ban of
excommunication must be removed."

The Bishop had come down from the walls and had drawn nigh. "Fetch me
book and candle, Carfax," said he, "and I will remove the ban."

"You will be wise to do so, my lord," the King said, significantly. The
Bishop deemed it prudent to give no particular heed to his sire's tone.
At once he proceeded to take off the ban of excommunication he had so
hastily pronounced upon Robin Hood and the rest of his merry men.

"Now, Robin, take payment for your entertainment of me in the woods,"
the King said, in a voice that would brook no denial. Robin drew near
and kneeled before him, doubtfully. "Rise, Robin of Huntingdon, first
Earl of the shire!" cried Richard, tapping him with the point of his
blade. "Take rank amongst my knights, and learn that thy King
recognizeth above the other neither Saxon nor Norman of his
subjects--all to me are English; and I love the man who is brave and who
dealeth fairly as he may with his fellow men. You have kept the spirit
of liberty alive in this my land, and I hold no anger against you
because you have been impatient under wrong."

His proud voice was silent; while Robin Earl of Huntingdon seized his
King's hand to his lips and kissed it in a wonderment of gratitude.

CHAPTER XXXIV

It was the wedding-day of four happy people. The day was bright, the sky
blue, and Sherwood had taken upon itself early summer raiment.

The old church of Nottingham was already crowded to excess.

The newly banded guard of Royal bowmen, gay in their scarlet and white
livery, were formed up in two straight lines from the church door to the
lych gate.

So soon as the weddings