While they so shouted with loud voices, a tall burly yeoman of the King’s guard came forward and plucked Robin by the sleeve.  “Good master,” quoth he, “I have somewhat to tell thee in thine ear; a silly thing, God wot, for one stout yeoman to tell another; but a young peacock of a page, one Richard Partington, was seeking thee without avail in the crowd, and, not being able to find thee, told me that he bore a message to thee from a certain lady that thou wottest of.  This message he bade me tell thee privily, word for word, and thus it was.  Let me see—­I trust I have forgot it not—­yea, thus it was:  ’The lion growls.  Beware thy head.’”

“Is it so?” quoth Robin, starting; for he knew right well that it was the Queen sent the message, and that she spake of the King’s wrath.  “Now, I thank thee, good fellow, for thou hast done me greater service than thou knowest of this day.”  Then he called his three yeomen together and told them privately that they had best be jogging, as it was like to be ill for them so nigh merry London Town.  So, without tarrying longer, they made their way through the crowd until they had come out from the press.  Then, without stopping, they left London Town and started away northward.

The Chase of Robin Hood

SO ROBIN HOOD and the others left the archery range at Finsbury Fields, and, tarrying not, set forth straightway upon their homeward journey.  It was well for them that they did so, for they had not gone more than three or four miles upon their way when six of the yeomen of the King’s guard came bustling among the crowd that still lingered, seeking for Robin and his men, to seize upon them and make them prisoners.  Truly, it was an ill-done thing in the King to break his promise, but it all came about through the Bishop of Hereford’s doing, for thus it happened: 

After the King left the archery ground, he went straightway to his cabinet, and with him went the Bishop of Hereford and Sir Robert Lee; but the King said never a word to these two, but sat gnawing his nether lip, for his heart was galled within him by what had happened.  At last the Bishop of Hereford spoke, in a low, sorrowful voice:  “It is a sad thing, Your Majesty, that this knavish outlaw should be let to escape in this wise; for, let him but get back to Sherwood Forest safe and sound, and he may snap his fingers at king and king’s men.”

At these words the King raised his eyes and looked grimly upon the Bishop.  “Sayst thou so?” quoth he.  “Now, I will show thee, in good time, how much thou dost err, for, when the forty days are past and gone, I will seize upon this thieving outlaw, if I have to tear down all of Sherwood to find him.  Thinkest thou that the laws of the King of England are to be so evaded by one poor knave without friends or money?”

Then the Bishop spoke again, in his soft, smooth voice: