After the women had gotten Robin Hood to the room beneath the eaves, the
Prioress sent all of the others away; then, taking a little cord, she
tied it tightly about Robin's arm, as though she were about to bleed
him. And so she did bleed him, but the vein she opened was not one of
those that lie close and blue beneath the skin; deeper she cut than
that, for she opened one of those veins through which the bright red
blood runs leaping from the heart. Of this Robin knew not; for, though
he saw the blood flow, it did not come fast enough to make him think
that there was anything ill in it.
Having done this vile deed, the Prioress turned and left her cousin,
locking the door behind her. All that livelong day the blood ran from
Robin Hood's arm, nor could he check it, though he strove in every way
to do so. Again and again he called for help, but no help came, for his
cousin had betrayed him, and Little John was too far away to hear his
voice. So he bled and bled until he felt his strength slipping away from
him. Then he arose, tottering, and bearing himself up by the palms of
his hands against the wall, he reached his bugle horn at last.
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