10 ACORN On the Road to London A long time ago, in the reign of Elizabeth, Queen of merry England, there stood on the high-road from Leicester to London, two villages, between which was a large forest called Birnham Wood. Our story, with which this wood has considerable to do, begins on a day late in October when the approach of Autumn had dyed the leaves a multitude of colors, and the soft breezes had strewn them thickly upon the ground. The rays of the afternoon sun, glancing through the branches, made it a beautiful picture. A youth walked slowly along the forest road. He appeared to notice none of the beauties of nature about him, but seemed bent on finding a place where he could rest in ease and safety, while his torn, soiled clothing, and halting step were evidences of long travel and extreme fatigue. "By my faith," he muttered to himself. "'Tis certain I can go no farther without rest, yet I must be in the next village before nightfall. Ah Shakespeare! could the good Sir "Lousy Lucy" but behold thy distress, 'tis revenged he'd feel forsooth. Aye, and 'tis inviting this thicket looks. I'll rest my weary bones for awhile and be safe from savage beasts or prowling knaves who mayhap would rob me of the few pence I carry in my doublet." Then crawling into the bushes, he soon fell asleep. When he awoke it was night. The moon, struggling with the ragged clouds overhead, shone but dimly through the bush in which the weary traveler lay. When he realized that he had overslept, and that night had overtaken him in the forest, he became alarmed and was about to spring to his feet when he heard voices speaking just outside his hiding place, and raising himself on one knee, he peered cautiously through the branches and saw three evil-looking ruffians, fully armed with sword and dagger, standing in the roadway beside him. "But Godfrey," spoke one, "Art sure 'tis thy former master of Leicester, and that he travels with but two retainers?" The ruffian addressed was a heavy built, black-browed fellow, with a deep scar across his evil face, which took on a sinister look at the words of his companion. "Aye," he answered, "Dost think I could forget the man who scarred my face with his cursed whip?" I'll be revenged on him this night, and thou and Lovell may take what money he has with him as thy share in the work." Shakespeare drew carefully back into the bushes. He had heard the words of the foregoing conversation and was horrified at what seemed to be a plot to rob and murder the Earl of Leicester, whom ACORN 11 he knew well as a gallant gentleman who stood in high favor with the Queen, and who he surmised was journeying to London to attend the coming session of Parliament. He immediately resolved to warn him of his danger, but after a moment's thought became convinced that he could not emerge from his concealment, without being seen by the robbers, who would suspect his purpose and kill him without mercy. Plan after plan came to his mind only to be rejected as unsafe and there seemed no way to warn "His Lordship" of the fate which awaited him. Even as he pondered he heard the sound of hoofs trampling through the dry leaves, some distance away. The robbers heard it, too, and drew back so closely into the shadow of the bushes in which he lay that Shakespeare thinking he was about to be discovered grasped a heavy club which lay beside him and determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. The robbers, however, were too intent upon their evil mission to notice what lay behind them, and drawing their swords prepared to halt the oncoming party, which could now be seen approaching, and whom they rightly surmised was the Earl and his two followers. When the party had arrived to within a few feet of them the robbers stepped out into the road and their leader cried, "Halt in the name of the Queen and dismount." Hearing the command, the Earl drew his sword and exclaimed, "What means this sirrah? Who are ye, and by what authority do ye dare to arrest me?" His two servants, however, accustomed to obey commands without question, and thinking the arrest genuine, dismounted and were instantly run through by the swords of the robbers. Seeing this, the Earl made a sweeping cut at the head of the leader, who held his bridle rein at the same time spurring his horse forward in an attempt to escape. This ruffian, however, was too quick for him, and nimbly side-stepping his onslaught, suddenly plunged his sword deep into the horse's throat, bringing both him and his rider to earth. The Earl quickly regained his feet and with his back to a large tree, stood ready to defend himself to the last against the villains, who, now together attached him. As he caught a close view of the leader's face, a look of terrible rage overcast his own. "Ha villains," he cried, "Thou seek'st revenge for the flogging I gave thee for making too free with my wine cellar, eh? Now may the birds pick my bones if ere long my sword does not split thy weasands." Then a furious melee began; the Earl, a perfect swordsman, defended himself with great ability, to the surprise of his assailants. The conflict, however, was too unequal to last long. The odds against the Earl were too great, and he soon began to tire. The robbers saw this, and in a desire to end the fight were pressing him more closely than before, when suddenly a terrific blow from behind