Meanwhile the knight had gone back to Robin Hood, and the two men greeted each other right gladly. “Well met, bold Robin!” cried he, taking him in his arms. “Well met, indeed! The Lord has lately prospered me, and I was minded this day to ride forth and repay my debt to you.”
“And so you have,” answered Robin gaily.
“Nay, ‘twas nothing—this small service!” said the knight. “I meant the moneys coming to you.”
“They have all been repaid,” said Robin; “my lord of Hereford himself gave them to me.”
“The exact sum?” asked the knight.
“The exact sum,” answered Robin, winking solemnly.
Sir Richard smiled, but said no more at the time. Robin was made to rest until dinner should be served. Meanwhile a leech bound up his hand with ointment, promising him that he should soon have its use again. Some halfscore others of the yeomen had been hurt in the fight, but luckily none of grave moment. They were all bandaged and made happy by bumpers of ale.
At dinner Sir Richard presented Robin to his wife and son. The lady was stately and gracious, and made much of Marian, whom she had known as a little girl and who was now clothed more seemly for a dinner than in monkish garments. The young esquire was a goodly youth and bade fair to make as stout a knight as his father.
The feast was a joyous event. There were two long tables, and two hundred men sat down at them, and ate and drank and afterward sang songs. An hundred and forty of these men wore Lincoln green and called Robin Hood their chief. Never, I ween, had there been a more gallant company at table in Lea Castle!
That night the foresters tarried within the friendly walls, and the next day took leave; though Sir Richard protested that they should have made a longer stay. And he took Robin aside to his strong room and pressed him again to take the four hundred golden pounds. But his guest was firm.