"Hark now to that!" said Robin, still in his disguise. "Listen to it, friends, for ye all were witnesses that Sir Richard swore to me that the Bishop had robbed him, and sought to rob him more. Did not you, in honest truth, lend the knight four hundred pieces, my lord?"
"I did not lend him that precise amount," admitted the Bishop. "Four hundred pieces included also the interest of the sum I gave."
"Ho! you gave?" Robin snapped up the word. "You gave it, my lord?"
"I will not bandy words with you, you false villain," shouted the Bishop, suddenly losing control of himself. "Why do you not charge them, men? Take the word from me, and hew these fellows down as they stand."
"They will be well advised to remain as they are," spoke Robin. "See now how we command you all!" He took a bow and arrow out of Much's hands, and sped a shaft so truly towards the purpling Bishop that his mitred cap was sent spinning from off his bald head.
My lord turned green and yellow. He had thought himself dead almost. "Take my money, rascals," he quavered, feebly; and Stuteley approached him, cap in hand.
"Tied to the saddle of my palfrey you will find my all," murmured the Bishop, sighing deeply.
Stuteley took a well-filled bag from under my lord's empty saddle. He spread his cloak upon the road and counted out four hundred pieces into it. "The interest, master?" asked Will, twinkling to Robin.
"Pay that to this old woman who hath befriended and saved me; and give her, further, two hundred of the pieces on thy cloak," commanded Robin. "We will share with her, even as she hath already shared with me this day."
The outlaws then withdrew, taking with them the old woman and the Bishop's gold. They left him in no great humor; but forebore to provoke him further.