Meanwhile, back at the widow’s cottage the Bishop was growing more furious every moment. For all his bold words, he dared not fire the house, and the sturdy door had thus far resisted all his men’s efforts.
“Break it down! Break it down!” he shouted, “and let me soon see who will fetch out that traitor, Robin Hood!”
At last the door crashed in and the men stood guard on the threshold. But not one dared enter for fear a sharp arrow should meet him halfway.
“Here he is!” cried one keen-eyed fellow, peering in. “I see him in the corner by the cupboard. Shall we slay him with our pikes?”
“Nay,” said the Bishop, “take him alive if you can. We’ll make the biggest public hanging of this that the shire ever beheld.”
But the joy of the Bishop over his capture was short lived. Down the road came striding the shabby figure of the old woman who had helped him set the trap; and very wrathy was she when she saw that the cottage door had been battered in.
“Stand by, you lazy rascals!” she called to the soldiers. “May all the devils catch ye for hurting an old woman’s hut. Stand by, I say!”
“Hold your tongue!” ordered the Bishop. “These are my men and carrying out my orders.”
“God-mercy!” swore the beldame harshly. “Things have come to a pretty pass when our homes may be treated like common gaols. Couldn’t all your men catch one poor forester without this ado? Come! clear out, you and your robber, on the instant, or I’ll curse every mother’s son of ye, eating and drinking and sleeping!”
“Seize on the hag!” shouted the Bishop, as soon as he could get in a word. “We’ll see about a witch’s cursing. Back to town she shall go, alongside of Robin Hood.”