Monceux had all along suspected the Bishop of Hereford's story. There were no robbers in Sherwood now—the Bishop had invented the tale in order to cover up some disgraceful carousal, and had bribed his men. It had been a plot by which my lord of Hereford had been able to foist himself and his company upon the Sheriff, and so gain both free lodging in Nottingham and save giving in charity to the poor folk of the town.
Thus Master Monceux argued swiftly within himself.
"Get ready, butcher, for," he said, briskly, "I will join you in a few minutes."
He laid a solemn and dreadful charge upon the captain of his men-at-arms and upon those of his household to find him his plate ere he returned. He swore that their own goods should be seized and sold if they failed him in this matter!
Then he affected to be going in secret search himself.
So the two of them, without guard, went off together, Robin driving his shambling horse and rickety cart beside the Sheriff's little fat brown pony.
They passed through the gate, and Monceux left word there that his archers were to follow him to Gamewell so soon as they had returned from their searching for his plate.
Robin was very gay, and kept the Sheriff amused with his foolish chattering. Monceux congratulated himself more and more.
They had drawn nigh to Gamewell, and to that little gravel-pit wherein was one of the hidden passages to the Barnesdale caves. Peering irresolute through the tree-trunks far off to their right, Robin spied a herd of deer.
They stood and trembled at sight of Robin and the Sheriff, preparing to stampede.