Volume II Part 60 (1/2)
I thought I heard a voice.
LITTLE JOHN
'Twas only Shadow-of-a-Leaf again. He talks For hours among the ferns, plays with the flowers, And whispers to the mice, perfectly happy!
SCARLET
I cannot rest for thinking that some harm Hath chanced to Robin. Call him yet once more.
[_LITTLE JOHN blows his bugle. All is silent. They stand listening._]
SCENE III. _A gloomy cell. ROBIN bound. PRINCE JOHN and two mercenaries.
A low narrow door in the background, small barred window on the left._
PRINCE JOHN
[_To the Mercenaries._]
Leave us a moment. I have private matters To lay before this friend of all the poor.
You may begin to build the door up now, So that you do not wall me in with him.
[_The two men begin filling up the doorway with rude blocks of masonry._]
So now, my good green foot-pad, you are trapped At last, trapped in the practice of your trade!
Trapped, as you took your stolen Norman gold To what was it--a widow, or Saxon serf With eye put out for breaking forest laws?
You hold with them, it seems. Your dainty soul Sickens at our gross penalties; and so We'll not inflict them on your n.o.ble self, Although we have the power. There's not a soul Can ever tell where Robin Hood is gone.
These walls will never echo it.
[_He taps the wall with his sword._]
And yet There surely must be finer ways to torture So fine a soul as yours. Was it not you Who gave me like a fairing to my brother With lofty condescension in your eyes; And shall I call my mercenaries in And bid them burn your eyes out with hot irons?
Richard is gone--he'll never hear of it!
An Earl that plays the robber disappears, That's all. Most like he died in some low scuffle Out in the greenwood. I am half inclined To call for red-hot irons after all, So that your sympathy with Saxon churls May be more deep, you understand; and then It would be sweet for you, alone and blind, To know that you could never in this life See Marian's face again. But no--that's bad.
Bad art to put hope's eyes out. It destroys Half a man's fear to rob him of his hope.
No; you shall drink the dregs of it. Hope shall die More exquisite a death. Robin, my friend, You understand that, when I quit your presence, This bare blank cell becomes your living tomb.
Do you not comprehend? It's none so hard.
The doorway will be built up. There will be No door, you understand, but just a wall, Some six feet thick, of solid masonry.
n.o.body will disturb you, even to bring Water or food. You'll starve--see--like a rat, Bricked up and buried. But you'll have time to think Of how I tread a measure at the masque To-night, with Marian, while her wide eyes wonder Where Robin is--and old Fitzwalter smiles And bids his girl be gracious to the Prince For his land's sake. Ah, ha! you wince at that!
Will you not speak a word before I go?
Speak, d.a.m.n you!
[_He strikes ROBIN across the face with his glove. ROBIN remains silent._]
Six days hence, if you keep watch At yonder window (you'll be hungry then) You may catch sight of Marian and Prince John Wandering into the gardens down below.
You will be hungry then; perhaps you'll strive To call to us, or stretch a meagre arm Through those strong bars; but then you know the height Is very great--no voice can reach to the earth: This is the topmost cell in my Dark Tower.
Men look like ants below there. I shall say To Marian, See that creature waving there High up above us, level with the clouds, Is it not like a winter-shrivelled fly?
And she will laugh; and I will pluck her roses.