History of Literature
"The Merry Adventures
of Robin Hood"
Robin Hood statue in Nottingham
Illustrations by Howard Pyle
ROBIN HOOD'S ADVENTURES
Type of work: Folktales
Type of plot: Adventure romance
Time of plot: Thirteenth century
First published: с 1490
Robin Hood, the legendary outlaw is a folk hero
who has been celebrated in ballad and tale since the Middle Ages. The
first collection of ballads dealing with his exploits, published about
1490, tells of Robin Hood's courage, skill at archery, and daring deeds
in support of the poor. Although known chiefly as a children's hero
today, Robin Hood has served as the prototype for a great many heroes of
Robin Hood, actually the young Earl of Huntingdon, whose father has been
wrongly dispossessed of his estates. Robin Hood becomes an outlaw when
he kills one of the king's stags after being taunted by foresters to
show his skill with a longbow. Under sentence of death for killing the
animal, the young nobleman flees to Sherwood Forest, where he gathers
together a band of outlaws known as the Merry Men. Robin earns his place
of leadership by outfighting and outshooting his comrades, all of whom
become intensely loyal followers. Robin enjoys playing tricks on the
authorities sent to capture him and gains support by helping the poor.
Although eventually he is pardoned by Richard the Lion-Hearted and given
back his title and estates, Robin becomes homesick for his old ways and
returns to life in Sherwood Forest and outlawry. He is eventually killed
by a cousin, the prioress at Kirkly Abbey, who bleeds him to death under
the guise of giving him medical treatment.
Little John, a huge man who joins the Merry Men after being bested by
Robin in a shooting match. As a lark, Little John spends six months in
the service of the Sheriff of Nottingham, Robin Hood's enemy. Little
John is with Robin at the time of the hero's death, though he arrives
too late to save him. He buries Robin under the ancient oak where his
last arrow fell.
Friar Tuck, a hedge priest who joins the Merry Men after a fight with
Robin precipitated by the friar's ducking Robin in a stream.
Will Scarlet, one of the Merry Men. He participates with Robin and
Little John in an archery match against the king's own men. In the match
the outlaws appear as the queen's men and win for her.
Richard the Lion-Hearted, the king. He bests Robin in a fight and then
pardons the outlaws, returning the rightful title and estates to their
King John, who is infuriated when Robin Hood reverts to outlawry. He
sends a force of men to capture Robin and his men.
The Sheriff of Nottingham, a crown officer who tries for years to
capture Robin Hood. He is killed in a battle just before the death of
Sir Richard of the Lea, Robin Hood's friend, a knight once helped by
The Tinker, The Cook, Allan-a-Dale, and George-a-Greene, faithful
followers of Robin Hood.
Maid Marian, a young girl vaguely associated with the Robin Hood cycle.
Her importance in the story grew as the morris dance developed.
Illustrations by Howard Pyle
Before he became an outlaw, Robin Hood was the rightful Earl of
Huntingdon. Because the times were so corrupt, his father had been
dispossessed of his estates, and young Robin was driven into the forest.
His method of protest was to organize a band of outlaws in Sherwood
Forest and prey upon the rich to give to the poor.
The story about how he became an outlaw begins when he was on his way to
a shooting match in Nottingham. Some of the king's foresters met him in
Sherwood Forest and mocked his youth. Because one of the foresters
wagered that he could not slay a deer, Robin Hood killed one of the
king's stags. The penalty for his deed was death. When the foresters
gave chase, Robin was forced to hide in the forest. There he found other
landless, hunted men and became their leader.
While seeking adventure one day, Robin Hood encountered a tall stranger
at a bridge. Calling his merry men after the stranger had tumbled him
into the stream, Robin and his companions soon overcame the stranger.
Then a shooting match took place between the two. Robin Hood won the
match, and the stranger good-naturedly acknowledged defeat and joined
Robin's band. The outlaws called him Little John because he was so big.
The Sheriff of Nottingham was angered because Robin flouted his
authority, and he issued a warrant for his arrest. This warrant was
carried by a Tinker into the forest. When the Tinker met Robin Hood,
however, he failed to recognize the fugitive because Robin was
disguised. Robin took the Tinker to the Blue Board Inn, got him drunk,
and stole the warrant. Later, the Tinker met Robin in the forest and
fought with him. Robin Hood won the bout, and the Tinker happily joined
the other merry men in Robin's band.
The Sheriff of Nottingham grew more and more enraged by Robin's
boldness. When the king rebuked him for not capturing the outlaw, the
sheriff devised another plan. Knowing that Robin Hood prided himself on
his skill in archery, the sheriff proclaimed a shooting match in
Nottingham Tower. There he hoped to catch Robin Hood and his men. They
outwitted him, however, for they went to the match in disguise. As a
tattered stranger, Robin won the golden arrow given as a prize. After he
returned to Sherwood Forest, he sent the sheriff a note of thanks for
the prize. This act infuriated the officer even more.
Now the band of outlaws lay low in the forest for a time. At last, Robin
Hood sent one of his men to learn the sheriff's next plan. When he was
captured, the band set out to rescue him. As he was being dragged forth
to be hanged, Little John leaped into the cart and cut the prisoner's
bonds. The other outlaws ran from their hiding places and overcame the
Next Robin Hood bought some meat and took it to Nottingham to sell to
the poor at half price. Disguised as a butcher, he was thought by most
people to be either a foolish peasant or a wealthy nobleman in disguise.
When Robin Hood offered to sell him a herd of cattle at a ridiculously
low price, the sheriff gleefully accepted the offer. Then Robin took the
sheriff to Sherwood Forest, took his money, showed him the king's deer,
and told him that there stood his herd.
As a lark, Little John went to the Fair at Nottingham Tower, where he
treated all the people to food and drink. He was asked to enter the
sheriff's service because of his great size. Little John decided such
employment might be fun. He found life in the sheriff's household so
pleasant that he stayed six months, but he gradually grew bored and
became arrogant toward the steward. The steward called the cook to fight
Little John. Both men ate such a huge meal before fighting that neither
could win. Finally, they decided to stop because they did not really
dislike each other. Then Little John persuaded the cook to join the Band
of Merry Men.
On another day, Robin Hood and his men went out to find Friar Tuck of
Fountain Dale, supposedly a rich curate. Spying a strange monk singing
and feasting beside a brook, Robin joined him. When Robin wished to go
across the water, he persuaded the man to carry him on his back. On the
return trip the monk, who was in reality Friar Tuck, dumped Robin into
the water. After another great fight, with Robin the victor, the friar
joyfully joined the outlaw band.
The queen had heard of Robin's prowess and was fascinated by stories
told about him and his men; she invited him to come to London. In an
attempt to outwit the king, she proposed an archery match at which she
would put up three archers against his best three. If her team won, the
king was to issue a pardon of forty days to certain prisoners. The king
accepted the wager. The queen's archers were Robin Hood, Little John,
and Will Scarlet, all in disguise. Naturally the outlaws won, although
Will Scarlet was bested in his match. When the king learned that the
queen's archers were Robin Hood and two of his men, he was angry, and
they escaped capture only with the queen's help. The others returned
safely to Sherwood Forest, but Robin Hood met with many dangerous
adventures on the way. During his journey, he encountered Sir Richard of
the Lea, a knight whom he had once aided, and Sir Richard advised him to
return to London and throw himself on the queen's mercy. She persuaded
the king to give Robin Hood safe escort back to Sherwood Forest and so
pay the wager of the shooting match.
Returning from the Crusades, King Richard the Lion-Hearted decided to
seek out Robin Hood and his outlaw band. With six others, all disguised
as friars, Richard encountered Robin and his men and bested them.
Richard then revealed himself and pardoned Robin and his men. Robin he
restored to his rightful honors as the Earl of Huntingdon.
On a visit to Sherwood Forest several years later, Robin Hood became so
homesick for his old life that he gave up his title and returned to live
with the outlaws. His action infuriated John, the new king, and the
Sheriff of Nottingham. They sent their men to capture the outlaws.
During the fighting, the sheriff was killed. Robin Hood, ill and much
depressed by this bloodshed, went to Kirkley Abbey, where his cousin was
prioress, to be bled. She was a treacherous woman and had him bled too
long, so that he lay dying. At last Little John, having pulled down
bolts and bars to get to Robin, reached his leader's bedside. As Robin
Hood lay dying in Little John's arms, he asked for his bow and arrows
and said that he wished to be buried wherever his arrow fell. Then Robin
shot an arrow through the window of the priory. Little John marked its
flight, and Robin was buried beneath the ancient oak, which was his last
target. His merry men disbanded after his death, but the stories of
their brave deeds and the prowess of Robin Hood live on even to this
Illustrations by Howard Pyle
Robin Hood's Adventures is one of the best-loved stories of all time. It
has the elements that make for entertaining reading: romance, adventure,
the stage of history, and lofty characters. As a work of prose fiction,
however, it is quite unusual in one respect; comparatively few have
actually read the book, whereas millions have heard about the story.
Those who have not read the original have nevertheless come to know and
love the characters of the Robin Hood legend through the countless other
versions of the story in prose, fireside tales, motion pictures, and
more recently television.
The Robin Hood story itself goes back well into the Middle Ages. Legends
developed about a "good" outlaw who protected and supported the poor
while he stole from the rich. Early legends, however, did not center on
one bandit. There appear to have been several similar heroes of this
type who eventually coalesced into the character of Robin Hood, Earl of
Huntingdon, as he appears in this story. Whether the prototypes of Robin
Hood were real, as some historians believe them to have been, is a moot
point. It is the legend and not the reality of the story that has
excited people for centuries.
Although the first recorded reference to Robin Hood occurred in the
writings of the Scottish historian John of Fordun (died с 1384), the
first known compilation of prose and poetry of the Robin Hood legend
came in 1490 with the publication of the Lytel Geste of Robin Hood, by
Wynkyn de Worde, a noted British printer. If there were records for
best-sellers in those days, certainly this tale would have been high on
the list. It proved so popular that this version appeared again several
decades later and has been reprinted and re-told for centuries. It was
used as a basis for works of later novelists such as Sir Walter Scott in
Ivanhoe and more recently on film in successful motion picture and
television adaptations of the story. To the English especially, Robin
Hood is a great hero. He and King Arthur are the most revered characters
in British legends, and their popularity has spread and continues to
thrive throughout the world.
Although Robin Hood's Adventures would hardly be classed as one of the
great works of world literature, it is so entertaining that it may be
read with delight over and over again. It is truly a case of the overall
story being more important to its popularity than any of the individual
elements of the work. The reader can forgive a lack of in-depth
character analysis when he is made to feel as if he were riding through
Sherwood Forest by Robin Hood's side.
The story line of the tale is quite simple: the underdog, Robin Hood,
fights oppression and injustice in the form of the Sheriff of Nottingham
and Prince John, to protect the poor and rally them around the good, but
absent, King Richard I. Robin Hood represented an early attempt to
personify noblesse oblige. He was a highborn man who helped the
unfortunate. He did not condescend in his assistance, however, because
he lived and worked among the poor in Sherwood Forest. By contrast,
Prince John was a blatant representation of a powerful, oppressive
leader. By persecuting Robin Hood, he inadvertently encouraged Robin's
followers. King Richard, his brother, represents the colorful "good
king" who was fighting in the Holy Land during the Third Crusade to
overthrow the Muslims.
While this narrative makes for entertaining reading and is the basic
plot outline for many works, it is quite far removed from historical
fact. As the legends grew about Robin Hood, the actual historical events
surrounding the reigns of Richard and John became blurred. In reality,
Richard was rarely seen in England after he became king. He preferred
traveling and fighting in other countries. John was not a particularly
bad leader, merely unlucky. He was called John Lackland because he had
the unfortunate habit of losing English territories to the French. For
this reason, he became very unpopular and has had a bad reputation down
through the centuries. Adding up the elements of John's unpopularity,
Richard's swashbuckling image, and the possibility of real Robin
Hood-type bandits existing in the period surrounding the signing of the
Magna С arm, the legend has been expanded so that the historical truth
has been buried in a good story. If one reads Robin Hood's Adventures as
escapist literature, the facts may not matter, but one should bear in
mind that the tale is not historically accurate.
Adventures of Robin Hood"
I. How Robin Hood
Came to Be an Outlaw
In merry England in the time of old,
when good King Henry the Second ruled the land, there lived within the
green glades of Sherwood Forest, near Nottingham Town, a famous outlaw
whose name was Robin Hood. No archer ever lived that could speed a gray
goose shaft with such skill and cunning as his, nor were there ever such
yeomen as the sevenscore merry men that roamed with him through the
greenwood shades. Right merrily they dwelled within the depths of
Sherwood Forest, suffering neither care nor want, but passing the time
in merry games of archery or bouts of cudgel play, living upon the
King's venison, washed down with draughts of ale of October brewing.
Not only Robin himself but all the band
were outlaws and dwelled apart from other men, yet they were beloved by
the country people round about, for no one ever came to jolly Robin for
help in time of need and went away again with an empty fist.
And now I will tell how it came about
that Robin Hood fell afoul of the law.
When Robin was a youth of eighteen,
stout of sinew and bold of heart, the Sheriff of Nottingham proclaimed a
shooting match and offered a prize of a butt of ale to whosoever should
shoot the best shaft in Nottinghamshire. "Now," quoth Robin, "will I go
too, for fain would I draw a string for the bright eyes of my lass and a
butt of good October brewing." So up he got and took his good stout yew
bow and a score or more of broad clothyard arrows, and started off from
Locksley Town through Sherwood Forest to Nottingham.
It was at the dawn of day in the merry
Maytime, when hedgerows are green and flowers bedeck the meadows;
daisies pied and yellow cuckoo buds and fair primroses all along the
briery hedges; when apple buds blossom and sweet birds sing, the lark at
dawn of day, the throstle cock and cuckoo; when lads and lasses look
upon each other with sweet thoughts; when busy housewives spread their
linen to bleach upon the bright green grass. Sweet was the greenwood as
he walked along its paths, and bright the green and rustling leaves,
amid which the little birds sang with might and main: and blithely Robin
whistled as he trudged along, thinking of Maid Marian and her bright
eyes, for at such times a youth's thoughts are wont to turn pleasantly
upon the lass that he loves the best.
As thus he walked along with a brisk
step and a merry whistle, he came suddenly upon some foresters seated
beneath a great oak tree. Fifteen there were in all, making themselves
merry with feasting and drinking as they sat around a huge pasty, to
which each man helped himself, thrusting his hands into the pie, and
washing down that which they ate with great horns of ale which they drew
all foaming from a barrel that stood nigh. Each man was clad in Lincoln
green, and a fine show they made, seated upon the sward beneath that
fair, spreading tree. Then one of them, with his mouth full, called out
to Robin, "Hulloa, where goest thou, little lad, with thy one-penny bow
and thy farthing shafts?"
Then Robin grew angry, for no stripling
likes to be taunted with his green years.
"Now," quoth he, "my bow and eke mine
arrows are as good as shine; and moreover, I go to the shooting match at
Nottingham Town, which same has been proclaimed by our good Sheriff of
Nottinghamshire; there I will shoot with other stout yeomen, for a prize
has been offered of a fine butt of ale."
Then one who held a horn of ale in his
hand said, "Ho! listen to the lad! Why, boy, thy mother's milk is yet
scarce dry upon thy lips, and yet thou pratest of standing up with good
stout men at Nottingham butts, thou who art scarce able to draw one
string of a two-stone bow."
"I'll hold the best of you twenty
marks," quoth bold Robin, "that I hit the clout at threescore rods, by
the good help of Our Lady fair."
At this all laughed aloud, and one
said, "Well boasted, thou fair infant, well boasted! And well thou
knowest that no target is nigh to make good thy wager."
And another cried, "He will be taking
ale with his milk next."
At this Robin grew right mad. "Hark
ye," said he, "yonder, at the glade's end, I see a herd of deer, even
more than threescore rods distant. I'll hold you twenty marks that, by
leave of Our Lady, I cause the best hart among them to die."
"Now done!" cried he who had spoken
first. "And here are twenty marks. I wager that thou causest no beast to
die, with or without the aid of Our Lady."
Then Robin took his good yew bow in his
hand, and placing the tip at his instep, he strung it right deftly; then
he nocked a broad clothyard arrow and, raising the bow, drew the gray
goose feather to his ear; the next moment the bowstring rang and the
arrow sped down the glade as a sparrowhawk skims in a northern wind.
High leaped the noblest hart of all the herd, only to fall dead,
reddening the green path with his heart's blood.
"Ha!" cried Robin, "how likest thou
that shot, good fellow? I wot the wager were mine, an it were three
Then all the foresters were filled with
rage, and he who had spoken the first and had lost the wager was more
angry than all.
"Nay," cried he, "the wager is none of
thine, and get thee gone, straightway, or, by all the saints of heaven,
I'll baste thy sides until thou wilt ne'er be able to walk again."
"Knowest thou not," said another, "that thou hast killed the King's
deer, and, by the laws of our gracious lord and sovereign King Harry,
thine ears should be shaven close to thy head?"
"Catch him!" cried a third.
"Nay," said a fourth, "let him e'en go
because of his tender years."
Never a word said Robin Hood, but he
looked at the foresters with a grim face; then, turning on his heel,
strode away from them down the forest glade. But his heart was bitterly
angry, for his blood was hot and youthful and prone to boil.
Now, well would it have been for him
who had first spoken had he left Robin Hood alone; but his anger was
hot, both because the youth had gotten the better of him and because of
the deep draughts of ale that he had been quaffing. So, of a sudden,
without any warning, he sprang to his feet, and seized upon his bow and
fitted it to a shaft. "Ay," cried he, "and I'll hurry thee anon." And he
sent the arrow whistling after Robin.
It was well for Robin Hood that that
same forester's head was spinning with ale, or else he would never have
taken another step. As it was, the arrow whistled within three inches of
his head. Then he turned around and quickly drew his own bow, and sent
an arrow back in return.
"Ye said I was no archer," cried he
aloud, "but say so now again!"
The shaft flew straight; the archer
fell forward with a cry, and lay on his face upon the ground, his arrows
rattling about him from out of his quiver, the gray goose shaft wet with
his; heart's blood. Then, before the others could gather their wits
about them, Robin Hood was gone into the depths of the greenwood. Some
started after him, but not with much heart, for each feared to suffer
the death of his fellow; so presently they all came and lifted the dead
man up and bore him away to Nottingham Town.
Meanwhile Robin Hood ran through the
greenwood. Gone was all the joy and brightness from everything, for his
heart was sick within him, and it was borne in upon his soul that he had
slain a man.
"Alas!" cried he, "thou hast found me
an archer that will make thy wife to wring! I would that thou hadst
ne'er said one word to me, or that I had never passed thy way, or e'en
that my right forefinger had been stricken off ere that this had
happened! In haste I smote, but grieve I sore at leisure!" And then,
even in his trouble, he remembered the old saw that "What is done is
done; and the egg cracked cannot be cured."
And so he came to dwell in the
greenwood that was to be his home for many a year to come, never again
to see the happy days with the lads and lasses of sweet Locksley Town;
for he was outlawed, not only because he had killed a man, but also
because he had poached upon the King's deer, and two hundred pounds were
set upon his head, as a reward for whoever would bring him to the court
of the King.
Now the Sheriff of Nottingham swore
that he himself would bring this knave Robin Hood to justice, and for
two reasons: first, because he wanted the two hundred pounds, and next,
because the forester that Robin Hood had killed was of kin to him.
But Robin Hood lay hidden in Sherwood
Forest for one year, and in that time there gathered around him many
others like himself, cast out from other folk for this cause and for
that. Some had shot deer in hungry wintertime, when they could get no
other food, and had been seen in the act by the foresters, but had
escaped, thus saving their ears; some had been turned out of their
inheritance, that their farms might be added to the King's lands in
Sherwood Forest; some had been despoiled by a great baron or a rich
abbot or a powerful esquire-- all, for one cause or another, had come to
Sherwood to escape wrong and oppression.
So, in all that year, fivescore or more
good stout yeomen gathered about Robin Hood, and chose him to be their
leader and chief. Then they vowed that even as they themselves had been
despoiled they would despoil their oppressors, whether baron, abbot,
knight, or squire, and that from each they would take that which had
been wrung from the poor by unjust taxes, or land rents, or in wrongful
fines. But to the poor folk they would give a helping hand in need and
trouble, and would return to them that which had been unjustly taken
from them. Besides this, they swore never to harm a child nor to wrong a
woman, be she maid, wife, or widow; so that, after a while, when the
people began to find that no harm was meant to them, but that money or
food came in time of want to many a poor family, they came to praise
Robin and his merry men, and to tell many tales of him and of his doings
in Sherwood Forest, for they felt him to be one of themselves.
Up rose Robin Hood one merry morn when
all the birds were singing blithely among the leaves, and up rose all
his merry men, each fellow washing his head and hands in the cold brown
brook that leaped laughing from stone to stone. Then said Robin, "For
fourteen days have we seen no sport, so now I will go abroad to seek
adventures forthwith. But tarry ye, my merry men all, here in the
greenwood; only see that ye mind well my call. Three blasts upon the
bugle horn I will blow in my hour of need; then come quickly, for I
shall want your aid."
So saying, he strode away through the
leafy forest glades until he had come to the verge of Sherwood. There he
wandered for a long time, through highway and byway, through dingly dell
and forest skirts. Now he met a fair buxom lass in a shady lane, and
each gave the other a merry word and passed their way; now he saw a fair
lady upon an ambling pad, to whom he doffed his cap, and who bowed
sedately in return to the fair youth; now he saw a fat monk on a
pannier-laden ass; now a gallant knight, with spear and shield and armor
that flashed brightly in the sunlight; now a page clad in crimson; and
now a stout burgher from good Nottingham Town, pacing along with serious
footsteps; all these sights he saw, but adventure found he none. At last
he took a road by the forest skirts, a bypath that dipped toward a
broad, pebbly stream spanned by a narrow bridge made of a log of wood.
As he drew nigh this bridge he saw a tall stranger coming from the other
side. Thereupon Robin quickened his pace, as did the stranger likewise,
each thinking to cross first.
"Now stand thou back," quoth Robin,
"and let the better man cross first."
"Nay," answered the stranger, "then
stand back shine own self, for the better man, I wet, am I."
"That will we presently see," quoth
Robin, "and meanwhile stand thou where thou art, or else, by the bright
brow of Saint Aelfrida, I will show thee right good Nottingham play with
a clothyard shaft betwixt thy ribs."
"Now," quoth the stranger, "I will tan
thy hide till it be as many colors as a beggar's cloak, if thou darest
so much as touch a string of that same bow that thou holdest in thy
"Thou pratest like an ass," said Robin,
"for I could send this shaft clean through thy proud heart before a
curtal friar could say grace over a roast goose at Michaelmastide."
"And thou pratest like a coward,"
answered the stranger, "for thou standest there with a good yew bow to
shoot at my heart, while I have nought in my hand but a plain blackthorn
staff wherewith to meet thee."
"Now," quoth Robin, "by the faith of my
heart, never have I had a coward's name in all my life before. I will
lay by my trusty bow and eke my arrows, and if thou darest abide my
coming, I will go and cut a cudgel to test thy manhood withal."
"Ay, marry, that will I abide thy
coming, and joyously, too," quoth the stranger; whereupon he leaned
sturdily upon his staff to await Robin.
Then Robin Hood stepped quickly to the
coverside and cut a good staff of ground oak, straight, without new, and
six feet in length, and came back trimming away the tender stems from
it, while the stranger waited for him, leaning upon his staff, and
whistling as he gazed round about. Robin observed him furtively as he
trimmed his staff, measuring him from top to toe from out the corner of
his eye, and thought that he had never seen a lustier or a stouter man.
Tall was Robin, but taller was the stranger by a head and a neck, for he
was seven feet in height. Broad was Robin across the shoulders, but
broader was the stranger by twice the breadth of a palm, while he
measured at least an ell around the waist.
"Nevertheless," said Robin to himself,
"I will baste thy hide right merrily, my good fellow"; then, aloud, "Lo,
here is my good staff, lusty and tough. Now wait my coming, an thou
darest, and meet me an thou fearest not. Then we will fight until one or
the other of us tumble into the stream by dint of blows."
"Marry, that meeteth my whole heart!"
cried the stranger, twirling his staff above his head, betwixt his
fingers and thumb, until it whistled again.
Never did the Knights of Arthur's Round
Table meet in a stouter fight than did these two. In a moment Robin
stepped quickly upon the bridge where the stranger stood; first he made
a feint, and then delivered a blow at the stranger's head that, had it
met its mark, would have tumbled him speedily into the water. But the
stranger turned the blow right deftly and in return gave one as stout,
which Robin also turned as the stranger had done. So they stood, each in
his place, neither moving a finger's-breadth back, for one good hour,
and many blows were given and received by each in that time, till here
and there were sore bones and bumps, yet neither thought of crying
"Enough," nor seemed likely to fall from off the bridge. Now and then
they stopped to rest, and each thought that he never had seen in all his
life before such a hand at quarterstaff. At last Robin gave the stranger
a blow upon the ribs that made his jacket smoke like a damp straw thatch
in the sun. So shrewd was the stroke that the stranger came within a
hair's-breadth of falling off the bridge, but he regained himself right
quickly and, by a dexterous blow, gave Robin a crack on the crown that
caused the blood to flow. Then Robin grew mad with anger and smote with
all his might at the other. But the stranger warded the blow and once
again thwacked Robin, and this time so fairly that he fell heels over
head into the water, as the queen pin falls in a game of bowls.
"And where art thou now, my good lad?"
shouted the stranger, roaring with laughter.
"Oh, in the flood and floating adown
with the tide," cried Robin, nor could he forbear laughing himself at
his sorry plight. Then, gaining his feet, he waded to the bank, the
little fish speeding hither and thither, all frightened at his
"Give me thy hand," cried he, when he
had reached the bank. "I must needs own thou art a brave and a sturdy
soul and, withal, a good stout stroke with the cudgels. By this and by
that, my head hummeth like to a hive of bees on a hot June day."
Then he clapped his horn to his lips
and winded a blast that went echoing sweetly down the forest paths. "Ay,
marry," quoth he again, "thou art a tall lad, and eke a brave one, for
ne'er, I bow, is there a man betwixt here and Canterbury Town could do
the like to me that thou hast done."
"And thou," quoth the stranger,
laughing, "takest thy cudgeling like a brave heart and a stout yeoman."
But now the distant twigs and branches
rustled with the coming of men, and suddenly a score or two of good
stout yeomen, all clad in Lincoln green, burst from out the covert, with
merry Will Stutely at their head.
"Good master," cried Will, "how is
this? Truly thou art all wet from head to foot, and that to the very
"Why, marry," answered jolly Robin,
"yon stout fellow hath tumbled me neck and crop into the water and hath
given me a drubbing beside."
"Then shall he not go without a ducking
and eke a drubbing himself!" cried Will Stutely. "Have at him, lads!"
Then Will and a score of yeomen leaped
upon the stranger, but though they sprang quickly they found him ready
and felt him strike right and left with his stout staff, so that, though
he went down with press of numbers, some of them rubbed cracked crowns
before he was overcome.
"Nay, forbear!" cried Robin, laughing
until his sore sides ached again. "He is a right good man and true, and
no harm shall befall him. Now hark ye, good youth, wilt thou stay with
me and be one of my band? Three suits of Lincoln green shalt thou have
each year, beside forty marks in fee, and share with us whatsoever good
shall befall us. Thou shalt eat sweet venison and quaff the stoutest
ale, and mine own good right-hand man shalt thou be, for never did I see
such a cudgel player in all my life before. Speak! Wilt thou be one of
my good merry men?"
"That know I not," quoth the stranger
surlily, for he was angry at being so tumbled about. "If ye handle yew
bow and apple shaft no better than ye do oaken cudgel, I wot ye are not
fit to be called yeomen in my country; but if there be any man here that
can shoot a better shaft than I, then will I bethink me of joining with
"Now by my faith," said Robin, "thou
art a right saucy varlet, sirrah; yet I will stoop to thee as I never
stooped to man before. Good Stutely, cut thou a fair white piece of bark
four fingers in breadth, and set it fourscore yards distant on yonder
oak. Now, stranger, hit that fairly with a gray goose shaft and call
thyself an archer."
"Ay, marry, that will I," answered he.
"Give me a good stout bow and a fair broad arrow, and if I hit it not,
strip me and beat me blue with bowstrings."
Then he chose the stoutest bow among
them all, next to Robin's own, and a straight gray goose shaft,
well-feathered and smooth, and stepping to the mark--while all the band,
sitting or lying upon the greensward, watched to see him shoot--he drew
the arrow to his cheek and loosed the shaft right deftly, sending it so
straight down the path that it clove the mark in the very center. "Aha!"
cried he, "mend thou that if thou canst"; while even the yeomen clapped
their hands at so fair a shot.
"That is a keen shot indeed," quoth
Robin. "Mend it I cannot, but mar it I may, perhaps."
Then taking up his own good stout bow
and nocking an arrow with care, he shot with his very greatest skill.
Straight flew the arrow, and so true that it lit fairly upon the
stranger's shaft and split it into splinters. Then all the yeomen leaped
to their feet and shouted for joy that their master had shot so well.
"Now by the lusty yew bow of good Saint
Withold," cried the stranger, "that is a shot indeed, and never saw I
the like in all my life before! Now truly will I be thy man henceforth
and for aye. Good Adam Bell was a fair shot, but never shot he so!"
 Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough, and
William of Cloudesly were three noted north-country bowmen whose names
have been celebrated in many ballads of the olden time.
"Then have I gained a right good man
this day," quoth jolly Robin. "What name goest thou by, good fellow?"
"Men call me John Little whence I
came," answered the stranger.
Then Will Stutely, who loved a good
jest, spoke up. "Nay, fair little stranger," said he, "I like not thy
name and fain would I have it otherwise. Little art thou indeed, and
small of bone and sinew, therefore shalt thou be christened Little John,
and I will be thy godfather."
Then Robin Hood and all his band
laughed aloud until the stranger began to grow angry.
"An thou make a jest of me," quoth he
to Will Stutely, "thou wilt have sore bones and little pay, and that in
"Nay, good friend," said Robin Hood,
"bottle thine anger, for the name fitteth thee well. Little John shall
thou be called henceforth, and Little John shall it be. So come, my
merry men, we will prepare a christening feast for this fair infant."
So turning their backs upon the stream,
they plunged into the forest once more, through which they traced their
steps till they reached the spot where they dwelled in the depths of the
woodland. There had they built huts of bark and branches of trees, and
made couches of sweet rushes spread over with skins of fallow deer. Here
stood a great oak tree with branches spreading broadly around, beneath
which was a seat of green moss where Robin Hood was wont to sit at feast
and at merrymaking with his stout men about him. Here they found the
rest of the band, some of whom had come in with a brace of fat does.
Then they all built great fires and after a time roasted the does and
broached a barrel of humming ale. Then when the feast was ready they all
sat down, but Robin placed Little John at his right hand, for he was
henceforth to be the second in the band.
Then when the feast was done Will
Stutely spoke up. "It is now time, I ween, to christen our bonny babe,
is it not so, merry boys?" And "Aye! Aye!" cried all, laughing till the
woods echoed with their mirth.
"Then seven sponsors shall we have,"
quoth Will Stutely, and hunting among all the band, he chose the seven
stoutest men of them all.
"Now by Saint Dunstan," cried Little
John, springing to his feet, "more than one of you shall rue it an you
lay finger upon me."
But without a word they all ran upon
him at once, seizing him by his legs and arms and holding him tightly in
spite of his struggles, and they bore him forth while all stood around
to see the sport. Then one came forward who had been chosen to play the
priest because he had a bald crown, and in his hand he carried a
brimming pot of ale. "Now, who bringeth this babe?" asked he right
"That do I," answered Will Stutely.
"And what name callest thou him?"
"Little John call I him."
"Now Little John," quoth the mock
priest, "thou hast not lived heretofore, but only got thee along through
the world, but henceforth thou wilt live indeed. When thou livedst not
thou wast called John Little, but now that thou dost live indeed, Little
John shalt thou be called, so christen I thee." And at these last words
he emptied the pot of ale upon Little John's head.
Then all shouted with laughter as they
saw the good brown ale stream over Little John's beard and trickle from
his nose and chin, while his eyes blinked with the smart of it. At first
he was of a mind to be angry but found he could not, because the others
were so merry; so he, too, laughed with the rest. Then Robin took this
sweet, pretty babe, clothed him all anew from top to toe in Lincoln
green, and gave him a good stout bow, and so made him a member of the
And thus it was that Robin Hood became
outlawed; thus a band of merry companions gathered about him, and thus
he gained his right-hand man, Little John; and so the prologue ends. And
now I will tell how the Sheriff of Nottingham three times sought to take
Robin Hood, and how he failed each time.
"Robin shoots with Sir Guy" by Louis Rhead
II. Robin Hood
and the Tinker
was told before how two hundred pounds were set upon Robin Hood's head,
and how the Sheriff of Nottingham swore that he himself would seize
Robin, both because he would fain have the two hundred pounds and
because the slain man was a kinsman of his own. Now the Sheriff did not
yet know what a force Robin had about him in Sherwood, but thought that
he might serve a warrant for his arrest as he could upon any other man
that had broken the laws; therefore he offered fourscore golden angels
to anyone who would serve this warrant. But men of Nottingham Town knew
more of Robin Hood and his doings than the Sheriff did, and many laughed
to think of serving a warrant upon the bold outlaw, knowing well that
all they would get for such service would be cracked crowns; so that no
one came forward to take the matter in hand. Thus a fortnight passed, in
which time none came forward to do the Sheriff's business. Then said he,
"A right good reward have I offered to whosoever would serve my warrant
upon Robin Hood, and I marvel that no one has come to undertake the
Then one of his men who was near him
said, "Good master, thou wottest not the force that Robin Hood has about
him and how little he cares for warrant of king or sheriff. Truly, no
one likes to go on this service, for fear of cracked crowns and broken
"Then I hold all Nottingham men to be
cowards," said the Sheriff. "And let me see the man in all
Nottinghamshire that dare disobey the warrant of our sovereign lord King
Harry, for, by the shrine of Saint Edmund, I will hang him forty cubits
high! But if no man in Nottingham dare win fourscore angels, I will send
elsewhere, for there should be men of mettle somewhere in this land."
Then he called up a messenger in whom
he placed great trust, and bade him saddle his horse and make ready to
go to Lincoln Town to see whether he could find anyone there that would
do his bidding and win the reward. So that same morning the messenger
started forth upon his errand.
Bright shone the sun upon the dusty
highway that led from Nottingham to Lincoln, stretching away all white
over hill and dale. Dusty was the highway and dusty the throat of the
messenger, so that his heart was glad when he saw before him the Sign of
the Blue Boar Inn, when somewhat more than half his journey was done.
The inn looked fair to his eyes, and the shade of the oak trees that
stood around it seemed cool and pleasant, so he alighted from his horse
to rest himself for a time, calling for a pot of ale to refresh his
There he saw a party of right jovial
fellows seated beneath the spreading oak that shaded the greensward in
front of the door. There was a tinker, two barefoot friars, and a party
of six of the King's foresters all clad in Lincoln green, and all of
them were quaffing humming ale and singing merry ballads of the good old
times. Loud laughed the foresters, as jests were bandied about between
the singing, and louder laughed the friars, for they were lusty men with
beards that curled like the wool of black rams; but loudest of all
laughed the Tinker, and he sang more sweetly than any of the rest. His
bag and his hammer hung upon a twig of the oak tree, and near by leaned
his good stout cudgel, as thick as his wrist and knotted at the end.
"Come," cried one of the foresters to
the tired messenger, "come join us for this shot. Ho, landlord! Bring a
fresh pot of ale for each man.
The messenger was glad enough to sit
down along with the others who were there, for his limbs were weary and
the ale was good.
"Now what news bearest thou so fast?"
quoth one, "and whither ridest thou today?"
The messenger was a chatty soul and
loved a bit of gossip dearly; besides, the pot of ale warmed his heart;
so that, settling himself in an easy corner of the inn bench, while the
host leaned upon the doorway and the hostess stood with her hands
beneath her apron, he unfolded his budget of news with great comfort. He
told all from the very first: how Robin Hood had slain the forester, and
how he had hidden in the greenwood to escape the law; how that he lived
therein, all against the law, God wot, slaying His Majesty's deer and
levying toll on fat abbot, knight, and esquire, so that none dare travel
even on broad Watling Street or the Fosse Way for fear
of him; how that the Sheriff had a mind
to serve the King's warrant upon this same rogue, though little would he
mind warrant of either king or sheriff, for he was far from being a
law-abiding man. Then he told how none could be found in all Nottingham
Town to serve this warrant, for fear of cracked pates and broken bones,
and how that he, the messenger, was now upon his way to Lincoln Town to
find of what mettle the Lincoln men might be.
"Now come I, forsooth, from good
Banbury Town," said the jolly Tinker, "and no one nigh Nottingham--nor
Sherwood either, an that be the mark-- can hold cudgel with my grip.
Why, lads, did I not meet that mad wag Simon of Ely, even at the famous
fair at Hertford Town, and beat him in the ring at that place before Sir
Robert of Leslie and his lady? This same Robin Hood, of whom, I wot, I
never heard before, is a right merry blade, but gin he be strong, am not
I stronger? And gin he be sly, am not I slyer? Now by the bright eyes of
Nan o' the Mill, and by mine own name and that's Wat o' the Crabstaff,
and by mine own mother's son, and that's myself, will I, even I, Wat o'
the Crabstaff, meet this same sturdy rogue, and gin he mind not the seal
of our glorious sovereign King Harry, and the warrant of the good
Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, I will so bruise, beat, and bemaul his pate
that he shall never move finger or toe again! Hear ye that, bully boys?"
"Now art thou the man for my farthing,"
cried the messenger. "And back thou goest with me to Nottingham Town."
"Nay," quoth the Tinker, shaking his
head slowly from side to side. "Go I with no man gin it be not with mine
own free will."
"Nay, nay," said the messenger, "no man
is there in Nottinghamshire could make thee go against thy will, thou
"Ay, that be I brave," said the Tinker.
"Ay, marry," said the messenger, "thou
art a brave lad; but our good Sheriff hath offered fourscore angels of
bright gold to whosoever shall serve the warrant upon Robin Hood; though
little good will it do."
"Then I will go with thee, lad. Do but
wait till I get my bag and hammer, and my cudgel. Ay, let' me but meet
this same Robin Hood, and let me see whether he will not mind the King's
warrant." So, after having paid their score, the messenger, with the
Tinker striding beside his nag, started back to Nottingham again.
One bright morning soon after this
time, Robin Hood started off to Nottingham Town to find what was a-doing
there, walking merrily along the roadside where the grass was sweet with
daisies, his eyes wandering and his thoughts also. His bugle horn hung
at his hip and his bow and arrows at his back, while in his hand he bore
a good stout oaken staff, which he twirled with his fingers as he
As thus he walked down a shady lane he
saw a tinker coming, trolling a merry song as he drew nigh. On his back
hung his bag and his hammer, and in his hand he carried a right stout
crabstaff full six feet long, and thus sang he:
"In peascod time, when hound to horn
Gives ear till buck be killed,
And little lads with pipes of corn
Sit keeping beasts afield--"
"Halloa, good friend!" cried Robin.
"I went to gather strawberries--"
"Halloa!" cried Robin again.
"By woods and groves full fair--"
"Halloa! Art thou deaf, man? Good
friend, say I!"
"And who art thou dost so boldly check
a fair song?" quoth the Tinker, stopping in his singing. "Halloa, shine
own self, whether thou be good friend or no. But let me tell thee, thou
stout fellow, gin thou be a good friend it were well for us both; but
gin thou be no good friend it were ill for thee."
"And whence comest thou, my lusty
blade?" quoth Robin.
"I come from Banbury," answered the
"Alas!" quoth Robin, "I hear there is
sad news this merry morn."
"Ha! Is it indeed so?" cried the Tinker
eagerly. "Prythee tell it speedily, for I am a tinker by trade, as thou
seest, and as I am in my trade I am greedy for news, even as a priest is
greedy for farthings."
"Well then," quoth Robin, "list thou
and I will tell, but bear thyself up bravely, for the news is sad, I
wot. Thus it is: I hear that two tinkers are in the stocks for drinking
ale and beer!"
"Now a murrain seize thee and thy news,
thou scurvy dog," quoth the Tinker, "for thou speakest but ill of good
men. But sad news it is indeed, gin there be two stout fellows in the
"Nay," said Robin, "thou hast missed
the mark and dost but weep for the wrong sow. The sadness of the news
lieth in that there be but two in the stocks, for the others do roam the
country at large."
"Now by the pewter platter of Saint
Dunstan," cried the Tinker, "I have a good part of a mind to baste thy
hide for thine ill jest. But gin men be put in the stocks for drinking
ale and beer, I trow thou wouldst not lose thy part."
Loud laughed Robin and cried, "Now well
taken, Tinker, well taken! Why, thy wits are like beer, and do froth up
most when they grow sour! But right art thou, man, for I love ale and
beer right well. Therefore come straightway with me hard by to the Sign
of the Blue Boar, and if thou drinkest as thou appearest--and I wot thou
wilt not belie thy looks--I will drench thy throat with as good
homebrewed as ever was tapped in all broad Nottinghamshire."
"Now by my faith," said the Tinker,
"thou art a right good fellow in spite of thy scurvy jests. I love thee,
my sweet chuck, and gin I go not with thee to that same Blue Boar thou
mayst call me a heathen."
"Tell me thy news, good friend, I
prythee," quoth Robin as they trudged along together, "for tinkers, I
ween, are all as full of news as an egg of meat."
"Now I love thee as my brother, my
bully blade," said the Tinker, "else I would not tell thee my news; for
sly am I, man, and I have in hand a grave undertaking that doth call for
all my wits, for I come to seek a bold outlaw that men, hereabouts, call
Robin Hood. Within my pouch I have a warrant, all fairly written out on
parchment, forsooth, with a great red seal for to make it lawful. Could
I but meet this same Robin Hood I would serve it upon his dainty body,
and if he minded it not I would beat him till every one of his ribs
would cry Amen. But thou livest hereabouts, mayhap thou knowest Robin
Hood thyself, good fellow."
"Ay, marry, that I do somewhat," quoth
Robin, "and I have seen him this very morn. But, Tinker, men say that he
is but a sad, sly thief. Thou hadst better watch thy warrant, man, or
else he may steal it out of thy very pouch."
"Let him but try!" cried the Tinker.
"Sly may he be, but sly am I, too. I would I had him here now, man to
man!" And he made his heavy cudgel to spin again. "But what manner of
man is he, lad?
"Much like myself," said Robin,
laughing, "and in height and build and age nigh the same; and he hath
blue eyes, too."
"Nay," quoth the Tinker, "thou art but
a green youth. I thought him to be a great bearded man. Nottingham men
feared him so."
"Truly, he is not so old nor so stout
as thou art," said Robin. "But men do call him a right deft hand at
"That may be," said the Tinker right
sturdily, "but I am more deft than he, for did I not overcome Simon of
Ely in a fair bout in the ring at Hertford Town? But if thou knowest
him, my jolly blade, wilt thou go with me and bring me to him? Fourscore
bright angels hath the Sheriff promised me if I serve the warrant upon
the knave's body, and ten of them will I give to thee if thou showest me
"Ay, that will I," quoth Robin, "but
show me thy warrant, man, until I see whether it be good or no."
"That will I not do, even to mine own
brother," answered the Tinker. "No man shall see my warrant till I serve
it upon yon fellow's own body."
"So be it," quoth Robin. "And thou show
it not to me I know not to whom thou wilt show it. But here we are at
the Sign of the Blue Boar, so let us in and taste his brown October."
No sweeter inn could be found in all
Nottinghamshire than that of the Blue Boar. None had such lovely trees
standing around, or was so covered with trailing clematis and sweet
woodbine; none had such good beer and such humming ale; nor, in
wintertime, when the north wind howled and snow drifted around the
hedges, was there to be found, elsewhere, such a roaring fire as blazed
upon the hearth of the Blue Boar. At such times might be found a goodly
company of yeomen or country folk seated around the blazing hearth,
bandying merry jests, while roasted crabs bobbed in bowls of ale upon
the hearthstone. Well known was the inn to Robin Hood and his band, for
there had he and such merry companions as Little John or Will Stutely or
young David of Doncaster often gathered when all the forest was filled
with snow. As for mine host, he knew how to keep a still tongue in his
head, and to swallow his words before they passed his teeth, for he knew
very well which side of his bread was spread with butter, for Robin and
his band were the best of customers and paid their scores without having
them chalked up behind the door. So now, when Robin Hood and the Tinker
came thereto and called aloud for two great pots of ale, none would have
known from look or speech that the host had ever set eyes upon the
"Bide thou here," quoth Robin to the
Tinker, "while I go and see that mine host draweth ale from the right
butt, for he hath good October, I know, and that brewed by Withold of
Tamworth." So saying, he went within and whispered to the host to add a
measure of Flemish strong waters to the good English ale; which the
latter did and brought it to them.
"By Our Lady," said the Tinker, after a
long draught of the ale, "yon same Withold of Tamworth--a right good
Saxon name, too, I would have thee know--breweth the most humming ale
that e'er passed the lips of Wat o' the Crabstaff."
"Drink, man, drink," cried Robin, only
wetting his own lips meanwhile. "Ho, landlord! Bring my friend another
pot of the same. And now for a song, my jolly blade."
"Ay, that will I give thee a song, my
lovely fellow," quoth the Tinker, "for I never tasted such ale in all my
days before. By Our Lady, it doth make my head hum even now! Hey, Dame
Hostess, come listen, an thou wouldst hear a song, and thou too, thou
bonny lass, for never sing I so well as when bright eyes do look upon me
Then he sang an ancient ballad of the
time of good King Arthur, called "The Marriage of Sir Gawaine," which
you may some time read yourself, in stout English of early times; and as
he sang, all listened to that noble tale of noble knight and his
sacrifice to his king. But long before the Tinker came to the last verse
his tongue began to trip and his head to spin, because of the strong
waters mixed with the ale. First his tongue tripped, then it grew thick
of sound; then his head wagged from side to side, until at last he fell
asleep as though he never would waken again.
Then Robin Hood laughed aloud and
quickly took the warrant from out the Tinker's pouch with his deft
fingers. "Sly art thou, Tinker," quoth he, "but not yet, I bow, art thou
as sly as that same sly thief Robin Hood."
Then he called the host to him and
said, "Here, good man, are ten broad shillings for the entertainment
thou hast given us this day. See that thou takest good care of thy fair
guest there, and when he wakes thou mayst again charge him ten shillings
also, and if he hath it not, thou mayst take his bag and hammer, and
even his coat, in payment. Thus do I punish those that come into the
greenwood to deal dole to me. As for thine own self, never knew I
landlord yet that would not charge twice an he could."
At this the host smiled slyly, as
though saying to himself the rustic saw, "Teach a magpie to suck eggs."
The Tinker slept until the afternoon
drew to a close and the shadows grew long beside the woodland edge, then
he awoke. First he looked up, then he looked down, then he
looked east, then he looked west, for
he was gathering his wits together, like barley straws blown apart by
the wind. First he thought of his merry companion, but he was gone. Then
he thought of his stout crabstaff, and that he had within his hand. Then
of his warrant, and of the fourscore angels he was to gain for serving
it upon Robin Hood. He thrust his hand into his pouch, but not a scrap
nor a farthing was there. Then he sprang to his feet in a rage.
"Ho, landlord!" cried he, "whither hath
that knave gone that was with me but now?"
"What knave meaneth Your Worship?"
quoth the landlord, calling the Tinker Worship to soothe him, as a man
would pour oil upon angry water. "I saw no knave with Your Worship, for
I swear no man would dare call that man knave so nigh to Sherwood
Forest. A right stout yeoman I saw with Your Worship, but I thought that
Your Worship knew him, for few there be about here that pass him by and
know him not."
"Now, how should I, that ne'er have
squealed in your sty, know all the swine therein? Who was he, then, an
thou knowest him so well?"
"Why, yon same is a right stout fellow
whom men hereabouts do call Robin Hood, which same--"
"Now, by'r Lady!" cried the Tinker
hastily, and in a deep voice like an angry bull, "thou didst see me come
into thine inn, I, a staunch, honest craftsman, and never told me who my
company was, well knowing thine own self who he was. Now, I have a right
round piece of a mind to crack thy knave's pate for thee!" Then he took
up his cudgel and looked at the landlord as though he would smite him
where he stood.
"Nay," cried the host, throwing up his
elbow, for he feared the blow, "how knew I that thou knewest him not?"
"Well and truly thankful mayst thou
be," quoth the Tinker, "that I be a patient man and so do spare thy bald
crown, else wouldst thou ne'er cheat customer again. But as for this
same knave Robin Hood, I go straightway to seek him, and if I do not
score his knave's pate, cut my staff into fagots and call me woman." So
saying, he gathered himself together to depart.
"Nay," quoth the landlord, standing in
front of him and holding out his arms like a gooseherd driving his
flock, for money made him bold, "thou goest not till thou hast paid me
"But did not he pay thee?"
"Not so much as one farthing; and ten
good shillings' worth of ale have ye drunk this day. Nay, I say, thou
goest not away without paying me, else shall our good Sheriff know of
"But nought have I to pay thee with,
good fellow," quoth the Tinker.
" `Good fellow' not me," said the
landlord. "Good fellow am I not when it cometh to lose ten shillings!
Pay me that thou owest me in broad money, or else leave thy coat and bag
and hammer; yet, I wot they are not worth ten shillings, and I shall
lose thereby. Nay, an thou stirrest, I have a great dog within and I
will loose him upon thee. Maken, open thou the door and let forth Brian
if this fellow stirs one step."
"Nay," quoth the Tinker--for, by
roaming the country, he had learned what dogs were--"take thou what thou
wilt have, and let me depart in peace, and may a murrain go with thee.
But oh, landlord! An I catch yon scurvy varlet, I swear he shall pay
full with usury for that he hath had!"
So saying, he strode away toward the
forest, talking to himself, while the landlord and his worthy dame and
Maken stood looking after him, and laughed when he had fairly gone.
"Robin and I stripped yon ass of his
pack main neatly," quoth the landlord.
Now it happened about this time that
Robin Hood was going through the forest to Fosse Way, to see what was to
be seen there, for the moon was full and the night gave promise of being
bright. In his hand he carried his stout oaken staff, and at his side
hung his bugle horn. As thus he walked up a forest path, whistling, down
another path came the Tinker, muttering to himself and shaking his head
like an angry bull; and so, at a sudden bend, they met sharply face to
face. Each stood still for a time, and then Robin spoke:
"Halloa, my sweet bird," said he,
laughing merrily, "how likest thou thine ale? Wilt not sing to me
The Tinker said nothing at first but
stood looking at Robin with a grim face. "Now," quoth he at last, "I am
right glad I have met thee, and if I do not rattle thy bones within thy
hide this day, I give thee leave to put thy foot upon my neck."
"With all my heart," cried merry Robin.
"Rattle my bones, an thou canst." So saying, he gripped his staff and
threw himself upon his guard. Then the Tinker spat upon his hands and,
grasping his staff, came straight at the other. He struck two or three
blows, but soon found that he had met his match, for Robin warded and
parried all of them, and, before the Tinker thought, he gave him a rap
upon the ribs in return. At this Robin laughed aloud, and the Tinker
grew more angry than ever, and smote again with all his might and main.
Again Robin warded two of the strokes, but at the third, his staff broke
beneath the mighty blows of the Tinker. "Now, ill betide thee, traitor
staff," cried Robin, as it fell from his hands; "a foul stick art thou
to serve me thus in mine hour of need."
"Now yield thee," quoth the Tinker,
"for thou art my captive; and if thou do not, I will beat thy pate to a
To this Robin Hood made no answer, but,
clapping his horn to his lips, he blew three blasts, loud and clear.
"Ay," quoth the Tinker, "blow thou
mayest, but go thou must with me to Nottingham Town, for the Sheriff
would fain see thee there. Now wilt thou yield thee, or shall I have to
break thy pretty head?"
"An I must drink sour ale, I must,"
quoth Robin, "but never have I yielded me to man before, and that
without wound or mark upon my body. Nor, when I bethink me, will I yield
now. Ho, my merry men! Come quickly!"
Then from out the forest leaped Little
John and six stout yeomen clad in Lincoln green.
"How now, good master," cried Little
John, "what need hast thou that thou dost wind thy horn so loudly?"
"There stands a tinker," quoth Robin,
"that would fain take me to Nottingham, there to hang upon the gallows
"Then shall he himself hang forthwith,"
cried Little John, and he and the others made at the Tinker, to seize
"Nay, touch him not," said Robin, "for
a right stout man is he. A metal man he is by trade, and a mettled man
by nature; moreover, he doth sing a lovely ballad. Say, good fellow,
wilt thou join my merry men all? Three suits of Lincoln green shalt thou
have a year, besides forty marks in fee; thou shalt share all with us
and lead a right merry life in the greenwood; for cares have we not, and
misfortune cometh not upon us within the sweet shades of Sherwood, where
we shoot the dun deer and feed upon venison and sweet oaten cakes, and
curds and honey. Wilt thou come with me?"
"Ay, marry, will I join with you all,"
quoth the Tinker, "for I love a merry life, and I love thee, good
master, though thou didst thwack my ribs and cheat me into the bargain.
Fain am I to own thou art both a stouter and a slyer man than I; so I
will obey thee and be thine own true servant."
So all turned their steps to the forest
depths, where the Tinker was to live henceforth. For many a day he sang
ballads to the band, until the famous Allan a Dale joined them, before
whose sweet voice all others seemed as harsh as a raven's; but of him we
will learn hereafter.
Little John and Robin Hood by Frank Godwin
III. The Shooting
Match at Nottingham Town
Then the Sheriff was very wroth because
of this failure to take jolly Robin, for it came to his ears, as ill
news always does, that the people laughed at him and made a jest of his
thinking to serve a warrant upon such a one as the bold outlaw. And a
man hates nothing so much as being made a jest of; so he said: "Our
gracious lord and sovereign King himself shall know of this, and how his
laws are perverted and despised by this band of rebel outlaws. As for
yon traitor Tinker, him will I hang, if I catch him, upon the very
highest gallows tree in all Nottinghamshire."
Then he bade all his servants and
retainers to make ready to go to London Town, to see and speak with the
At this there was bustling at the
Sheriff's castle, and men ran hither and thither upon this business and
upon that, while the forge fires of Nottingham glowed red far into the
night like twinkling stars, for all the smiths of the town were busy
making or mending armor for the Sheriff's troop of escort. For two days
this labor lasted, then, on the third, all was ready for the journey. So
forth they started in the bright sunlight, from Nottingham Town to Fosse
Way and thence to Watling Street; and so they journeyed for two days,
until they saw at last the spires and towers of great London Town; and
many folks stopped, as they journeyed along, and gazed at the show they
made riding along the highways with their flashing armor and gay plumes
In London King Henry and his fair Queen
Eleanor held their court, gay with ladies in silks and satins and
velvets and cloth of gold, and also brave knights and gallant courtiers.
Thither came the Sheriff and was shown
into the King's presence.
"A boon, a boon," quoth he, as he knelt
upon the ground.
"Now what wouldst thou have?" said the
King. "Let us hear what may be thy desires."
"O good my Lord and Sovereign," spake
the Sheriff, "in Sherwood Forest in our own good shire of Nottingham,
liveth a bold outlaw whose name is Robin Hood."
"In good sooth," said the King, "his
doings have reached even our own royal ears. He is a saucy, rebellious
varlet, yet, I am fain to own, a right merry soul withal."
"But hearken, O my most gracious
Sovereign," said the Sheriff. "I sent a warrant to him with thine own
royal seal attached, by a right lusty knave, but he beat the messenger
and stole the warrant. And he killeth thy deer and robbeth thine own
liege subjects even upon the great highways."
"Why, how now," quoth the King
wrathfully. "What wouldst thou have me do? Comest thou not to me with a
great array of men-at-arms and retainers, and yet art not able to take a
single band of lusty knaves without armor on breast, in thine own
county! What wouldst thou have me do? Art thou not my Sheriff? Are not
my laws in force in Nottinghamshire? Canst thou not take thine own
course against those that break the laws or do any injury to thee or
thine? Go, get thee gone, and think well; devise some plan of thine own,
but trouble me no further. But look well to it, Master Sheriff, for I
will have my laws obeyed by all men within my kingdom, and if thou art
not able to enforce them thou art no sheriff for me. So look well to
thyself, I say, or ill may befall thee as well as all the thieving
knaves in Nottinghamshire. When the flood cometh it sweepeth away grain
as well as chaff."
Then the Sheriff turned away with a
sore and troubled heart, and sadly he rued his fine show of retainers,
for he saw that the King was angry because he had so many men about him
and yet could not enforce the laws. So, as they all rode slowly back to
Nottingham, the Sheriff was thoughtful and full of care. Not a word did
he speak to anyone, and no one of his men spoke to him, but all the time
he was busy devising some plan to take Robin Hood.
"Aha!" cried he suddenly, smiting his
hand upon his thigh "I have it now! Ride on, my merry men all, and let
us get back to Nottingham Town as speedily as we may. And mark well my
words: before a fortnight is passed, that evil knave Robin Hood will be
safely clapped into Nottingham gaol."
But what was the Sheriff's plan?
As a usurer takes each one of a bag of
silver angels, feeling each coin to find whether it be clipped or not,
so the Sheriff, as all rode slowly and sadly back toward Nottingham,
took up thought after thought in turn, feeling around the edges of each
but finding in every one some flaw. At last he thought of the daring
soul of jolly Robin and how, as he the Sheriff knew, he often came even
within the walls of Nottingham.
"Now," thought the Sheriff, "could I
but persuade Robin nigh to Nottingham Town so that I could find him, I
warrant I would lay hands upon him so stoutly that he would never get
away again." Then of a sudden it came to him like a flash that were he
to proclaim a great shooting match and offer some grand prize, Robin
Hood might be overpersuaded by his spirit to come to the butts; and it
was this thought which caused him to cry "Aha!" and smite his palm upon
So, as soon as he had returned safely
to Nottingham, he sent messengers north and south, and east and west, to
proclaim through town, hamlet, and countryside, this grand shooting
match, and everyone was bidden that could draw a longbow, and the prize
was to be an arrow of pure beaten gold.
When Robin Hood first heard the news of
this he was in Lincoln Town, and hastening back to Sherwood Forest he
soon called all his merry men about him and spoke to them thus:
"Now hearken, my merry men all, to the
news that I have brought from Lincoln Town today. Our friend the Sheriff
of Nottingham hath proclaimed a shooting match, and hath sent messengers
to tell of it through all the countryside, and the prize is to be a
bright golden arrow. Now I fain would have one of us win it, both
because of the fairness of the prize and because our sweet friend the
Sheriff hath offered it. So we will take our bows and shafts and go
there to shoot, for I know right well that merriment will be a-going.
What say ye, lads?"
Then young David of Doncaster spoke up
and said, "Now listen, I pray thee, good master, unto what I say. I have
come straight from our friend Eadom o' the Blue Boar, and there I heard
the full news of this same match. But, master, I know from him, and he
got it from the Sheriff's man Ralph o' the Scar, that this same knavish
Sheriff hath but laid a trap for thee in this shooting match and wishes
nothing so much as to see thee there. So go not, good master, for I know
right well he doth seek to beguile thee, but stay within the greenwood
lest we all meet dole and woe."
"Now," quoth Robin, "thou art a wise
lad and keepest thine ears open and thy mouth shut, as becometh a wise
and crafty woodsman. But shall we let it be said that the Sheriff of
Nottingham did cow bold Robin Hood and sevenscore as fair archers as are
in all merry England? Nay, good David, what thou tellest me maketh me to
desire the prize even more than I else should do. But what sayeth our
good gossip Swanthold? Is it not `A hasty man burneth his mouth, and the
fool that keepeth his eyes shut falleth into the pit'? Thus he says,
truly, therefore we must meet guile with guile. Now some of you clothe
yourselves as curtal friars, and some as rustic peasants, and some as
tinkers, or as beggars, but see that each man taketh a good bow or
broadsword, in case need should arise. As for myself, I will shoot for
this same golden arrow, and should I win it, we will hang it to the
branches of our good greenwood tree for the joy of all the band. How
like you the plan, my merry men all?"
Then "Good, good!" cried all the band
A fair sight was Nottingham Town on the
day of the shooting match. All along upon the green meadow beneath the
town wall stretched a row of benches, one above the other, which were
for knight and lady, squire and dame, and rich burghers and their wives;
for none but those of rank and quality were to sit there. At the end of
the range, near the target, was a raised seat bedecked with ribbons and
scarfs and garlands of flowers, for the Sheriff of Nottingham and his
dame. The range was twoscore paces broad. At one end stood the target,
at the other a tent of striped canvas, from the pole of which fluttered
many-colored flags and streamers. In this booth were casks of ale, free
to be broached by any of the archers who might wish to quench their
Across the range from where the seats
for the better folk were raised was a railing to keep the poorer people
from crowding in front of the target. Already, while it was early, the
benches were beginning to fill with people of quality, who kept
constantly arriving in little carts or upon palfreys that curveted gaily
to the merry tinkle of silver bells at bridle reins. With these came
also the poorer folk, who sat or lay upon the green grass near the
railing that kept them from off the range. In the great tent the archers
were gathering by twos and threes; some talking loudly of the fair shots
each man had made in his day; some looking well to their bows, drawing a
string betwixt the fingers to see that there was no fray upon it, or
inspecting arrows, shutting one eye and peering down a shaft to see that
it was not warped, but straight and true, for neither bow nor shaft
should fail at such a time and for such a prize. And never was such a
company of yeomen as were gathered at Nottingham Town that day, for the
very best archers of merry England had come to this shooting match.
There was Gill o' the Red Cap, the Sheriff's own head archer, and Diccon
Cruikshank of Lincoln Town, and Adam o' the Dell, a man of Tamworth, of
threescore years and more, yet hale and lusty still, who in his time had
shot in the famous match at Woodstock, and had there beaten that
renowned archer, Clym o' the Clough. And many more famous men of the
longbow were there, whose names have been handed down to us in goodly
ballads of the olden time.
But now all the benches were filled
with guests, lord and lady, burgher and dame, when at last the Sheriff
himself came with his lady, he riding with stately mien upon his
milk-white horse and she upon her brown filly. Upon his head he wore a
purple velvet cap, and purple velvet was his robe, all trimmed about
with rich ermine; his jerkin and hose were of sea-green silk, and his
shoes of black velvet, the pointed toes fastened to his garters with
golden chains. A golden chain hung about his neck, and at his collar was
a great carbuncle set in red gold. His lady was dressed in blue velvet,
all trimmed with swan's down. So they made a gallant sight as they rode
along side by side, and all the people shouted from where they crowded
across the space from the gentlefolk; so the Sheriff and his lady came
to their place, where men-at-arms, with hauberk and spear, stood about,
waiting for them.
Then when the Sheriff and his dame had
sat down, he bade his herald wind upon his silver horn; who thereupon
sounded three blasts that came echoing cheerily back from the gray walls
of Nottingham. Then the archers stepped forth to their places, while all
the folks shouted with a mighty voice, each man calling upon his
favorite yeoman. "Red Cap!" cried some; "Cruikshank!" cried others; "Hey
for William o' Leslie!" shouted others yet again; while ladies waved
silken scarfs to urge each yeoman to do his best.
Then the herald stood forth and loudly
proclaimed the rules of the game as follows:
"Shoot each man from yon mark, which is
sevenscore yards and ten from the target. One arrow shooteth each man
first, and from all the archers shall the ten that shooteth the fairest
shafts be chosen for to shoot again. Two arrows shooteth each man of
these ten, then shall the three that shoot the fairest shafts be chosen
for to shoot again. Three arrows shooteth each man of those three, and
to him that shooteth the fairest shafts shall the prize be given."
Then the Sheriff leaned forward,
looking keenly among the press of archers to find whether Robin Hood was
among them; but no one was there clad in Lincoln green, such as was worn
by Robin and his band. "Nevertheless," said the Sheriff to himself, "he
may still be there, and I miss him among the crowd of other men. But let
me see when but ten men shoot, for I wot he will be among the ten, or I
know him not."
And now the archers shot, each man in
turn, and the good folk never saw such archery as was done that day. Six
arrows were within the clout, four within the black, and only two smote
the outer ring; so that when the last arrow sped and struck the target,
all the people shouted aloud, for it was noble shooting.
And now but ten men were left of all
those that had shot before, and of these ten, six were famous throughout
the land, and most of the folk gathered there knew them. These six men
were Gilbert o' the Red Cap, Adam o' the Dell, Diccon Cruikshank,
William o' Leslie, Hubert o' Cloud, and Swithin o' Hertford. Two others
were yeomen of merry Yorkshire, another was a tall stranger in blue, who
said he came from London Town, and the last was a tattered stranger in
scarlet, who wore a patch over one eye.
"Now," quoth the Sheriff to a
man-at-arms who stood near him, "seest thou Robin Hood among those ten?"
"Nay, that do I not, Your Worship,"
answered the man. "Six of them I know right well. Of those Yorkshire
yeomen, one is too tall and the other too short for that bold knave.
Robin's beard is as yellow as gold, while yon tattered beggar in scarlet
hath a beard of brown, besides being blind of one eye. As for the
stranger in blue, Robin's shoulders, I ween, are three inches broader
"Then," quoth the Sheriff, smiting his
thigh angrily, "yon knave is a coward as well as a rogue, and dares not
show his face among good men and true."
Then, after they had rested a short
time, those ten stout men stepped forth to shoot again. Each man shot
two arrows, and as they shot, not a word was spoken, but all the crowd
watched with scarce a breath of sound; but when the last had shot his
arrow another great shout arose, while many cast their caps aloft for
joy of such marvelous shooting.
"Now by our gracious Lady fair," quoth
old Sir Amyas o' the Dell, who, bowed with fourscore years and more, sat
near the Sheriff, "ne'er saw I such archery in all my life before, yet
have I seen the best hands at the longbow for threescore years and
And now but three men were left of all
those that had shot before. One was Gill o' the Red Cap, one the
tattered stranger in scarlet, and one Adam o' the Dell of Tamworth Town.
Then all the people called aloud, some crying, "Ho for Gilbert o' the
Red Cap!" and some, "Hey for stout Adam o' Tamworth!" But not a single
man in the crowd called upon the stranger in scarlet.
"Now, shoot thou well, Gilbert," cried
the Sheriff, "and if thine be the best shaft, fivescore broad silver
pennies will I give to thee beside the prize."
"Truly I will do my best," quoth
Gilbert right sturdily. "A man cannot do aught but his best, but that
will I strive to do this day." So saying, he drew forth a fair smooth
arrow with a broad feather and fitted it deftly to the string, then
drawing his bow with care he sped the shaft. Straight flew the arrow and
lit fairly in the clout, a finger's-breadth from the center. "A Gilbert,
a Gilbert!" shouted all the crowd; and, "Now, by my faith," cried the
Sheriff, smiting his hands together, "that is a shrewd shot."
Then the tattered stranger stepped
forth, and all the people laughed as they saw a yellow patch that showed
beneath his arm when he raised his elbow to shoot, and also to see him
aim with but one eye. He drew the good yew bow quickly, and quickly
loosed a shaft; so short was the time that no man could draw a breath
betwixt the drawing and the shooting; yet his arrow lodged nearer the
center than the other by twice the length of a barleycorn.
"Now by all the saints in Paradise!"
cried the Sheriff, "that is a lovely shaft in very truth!"
Then Adam o' the Dell shot, carefully
and cautiously, and his arrow lodged close beside the stranger's. Then
after a short space they all three shot again, and once more each arrow
lodged within the clout, but this time Adam o' the Dell's was farthest
from the center, and again the tattered stranger's shot was the best.
Then, after another time of rest, they all shot for the third time. This
time Gilbert took great heed to his aim, keenly measuring the distance
and shooting with shrewdest care. Straight flew the arrow, and all
shouted till the very flags that waved in the breeze shook with the
sound, and the rooks and daws flew clamoring about the roofs of the old
gray tower, for the shaft had lodged close beside the spot that marked
the very center.
"Well done, Gilbert!" cried the Sheriff
right joyously. "Fain am I to believe the prize is thine, and right
fairly won. Now, thou ragged knave, let me see thee shoot a better shaft
Nought spake the stranger but took his
place, while all was hushed, and no one spoke or even seemed to breathe,
so great was the silence for wonder what he would do. Meanwhile, also,
quite still stood the stranger, holding his bow in his hand, while one
could count five; then he drew his trusty yew, holding it drawn but a
moment, then loosed the string. Straight flew the arrow, and so true
that it smote a gray goose feather from off Gilbert's shaft, which fell
fluttering through the sunlit air as the stranger's arrow lodged close
beside his of the Red Cap, and in the very center. No one spoke a word
for a while and no one shouted, but each man looked into his neighbor's
"Nay," quoth old Adam o' the Dell
presently, drawing a long breath and shaking his head as he spoke,
"twoscore years and more have I shot shaft, and maybe not all times bad,
but I shoot no more this day, for no man can match with yon stranger,
whosoe'er he may be." Then he thrust his shaft into his quiver,
rattling, and unstrung his bow without another word.
Then the Sheriff came down from his
dais and drew near, in all his silks and velvets, to where the tattered
stranger stood leaning upon his stout bow, while the good folk crowded
around to see the man who shot so wondrously well. "Here, good fellow,"
quoth the Sheriff, "take thou the prize, and well and fairly hast thou
won it, I bow. What may be thy name, and whence comest thou?"
"Men do call me Jock o' Teviotdale, and
thence am I come," said the stranger.
"Then, by Our Lady, Jock, thou art the
fairest archer that e'er mine eyes beheld, and if thou wilt join my
service I will clothe thee with a better coat than that thou hast upon
thy back; thou shalt eat and drink of the best, and at every
Christmastide fourscore marks shall be thy wage. I trow thou drawest
better bow than that same coward knave Robin Hood, that dared not show
his face here this day. Say, good fellow, wilt thou join my service?"
"Nay, that will I not," quoth the
stranger roughly. "I will be mine own, and no man in all merry England
shall be my master."
"Then get thee gone, and a murrain
seize thee!" cried the Sheriff, and his voice trembled with anger. "And
by my faith and troth, I have a good part of a mind to have thee beaten
for thine insolence!" Then he turned upon his heel and strode away.
It was a right motley company that
gathered about the noble greenwood tree in Sherwood's depths that same
day. A score and more of barefoot friars were there, and some that
looked like tinkers, and some that seemed to be sturdy beggars and
rustic hinds; and seated upon a mossy couch was one all clad in tattered
scarlet, with a patch over one eye; and in his hand he held the golden
arrow that was the prize of the great shooting match. Then, amidst a
noise of talking and laughter, he took the patch from off his eye and
stripped away the scarlet rags from off his body and showed himself all
clothed in fair Lincoln green; and quoth he, "Easy come these things
away, but walnut stain cometh not so speedily from yellow hair." Then
all laughed louder than before, for it was Robin Hood himself that had
won the prize from the Sheriff's very hands.
Then all sat down to the woodland feast
and talked among themselves of the merry jest that had been played upon
the Sheriff, and of the adventures that had befallen each member of the
band in his disguise. But when the feast was done, Robin Hood took
Little John apart and said, "Truly am I vexed in my blood, for I heard
the Sheriff say today, `Thou shootest better than that coward knave
Robin Hood, that dared not show his face here this day.' I would fain
let him know who it was who won the golden arrow from out his hand, and
also that I am no coward such as he takes me to be."
Then Little John said, "Good master,
take thou me and Will Stutely, and we will send yon fat Sheriff news of
all this by a messenger such as he doth not expect."
That day the Sheriff sat at meat in the
great hall of his house at Nottingham Town. Long tables stood down the
hall, at which sat men-at-arms and household servants and good stout
villains, in all fourscore and more. There they talked of the day's
shooting as they ate their meat and quaffed their ale. The Sheriff sat
at the head of the table upon a raised seat under a canopy, and beside
him sat his dame.
"By my troth," said he, "I did reckon
full roundly that that knave Robin Hood would be at the game today. I
did not think that he was such a coward. But who could that saucy knave
be who answered me to my beard so bravely? I wonder that I did not have
him beaten; but there was something about him that spoke of other things
than rags and tatters."
Then, even as he finished speaking,
something fell rattling among the dishes on the table, while those that
sat near started up wondering what it might be. After a while one of the
men-at-arms gathered courage enough to pick it up and bring it to the
Sheriff. Then everyone saw that it was a blunted gray goose shaft, with
a fine scroll, about the thickness of a goose quill, tied near to its
head. The Sheriff opened the scroll and glanced at it, while the veins
upon his forehead swelled and his cheeks grew ruddy with rage as he
read, for this was what he saw:
"Now Heaven bless Thy Grace this day
Say all in sweet Sherwood
For thou didst give the prize away
merry Robin Hood."
"Whence came this?" cried the Sheriff in a mighty
"Even through the window, Your
Worship," quoth the man who had handed the shaft to him.
IV. Will Stutely
Rescued by His Companions
Now when the Sheriff found that neither
law nor guile could overcome Robin Hood, he was much perplexed, and said
to himself, "Fool that I am! Had I not told our King of Robin Hood, I
would not have gotten myself into such a coil; but now I must either
take him captive or have wrath visited upon my head from his most
gracious Majesty. I have tried law, and I have tried guile, and I have
failed in both; so I will try what may be done with might."
Thus communing within himself, he
called his constables together and told them what was in his mind. "Now
take ye each four men, all armed in proof," said he, "and get ye gone to
the forest, at different points, and lie in wait for this same Robin
Hood. But if any constable finds too many men against him, let him sound
a horn, and then let each band within hearing come with all speed and
join the party that calls them. Thus, I think, shall we take this
green-clad knave. Furthermore, to him that first meeteth with Robin Hood
shall one hundred pounds of silver money be given, if he be brought to
me dead or alive; and to him that meeteth with any of his band shall
twoscore pounds be given, if such be brought to me dead or alive. So, be
ye bold and be ye crafty."
So thus they went in threescore
companies of five to Sherwood Forest, to take Robin Hood, each constable
wishing that he might be the one to find the bold outlaw, or at least
one of his band. For seven days and nights they hunted through the
forest glades, but never saw so much as a single man in Lincoln green;
for tidings of all this had been brought to Robin Hood by trusty Eadom
o' the Blue Boar.
When he first heard the news, Robin
said, "If the Sheriff dare send force to meet force, woe will it be for
him and many a better man besides, for blood will flow and there will be
great trouble for all. But fain would I shun blood and battle, and fain
would I not deal sorrow to womenfolk and wives because good stout yeomen
lose their lives. Once I slew a man, and never do I wish to slay a man
again, for it is bitter for the soul to think thereon. So now we will
abide silently in Sherwood Forest, so that it may be well for all, but
should we be forced to defend ourselves, or any of our band, then let
each man draw bow and brand with might and main."
At this speech many of the band shook
their heads, and said to themselves, "Now the Sheriff will think that we
are cowards, and folk will scoff throughout the countryside, saying that
we fear to meet these men." But they said nothing aloud, swallowing
their words and doing as Robin bade them.
Thus they hid in the depths of Sherwood
Forest for seven days and seven nights and never showed their faces
abroad in all that time; but early in the morning of the eighth day
Robin Hood called the band together and said, "Now who will go and find
what the Sheriff's men are at by this time? For I know right well they
will not bide forever within Sherwood shades."
At this a great shout arose, and each
man waved his bow aloft and cried that he might be the one to go. Then
Robin Hood's heart was proud when he looked around on his stout, brave
fellows, and he said, "Brave and true are ye all, my merry men, and a
right stout band of good fellows are ye, but ye cannot all go, so I will
choose one from among you, and it shall be good Will Stutely, for he is
as sly as e'er an old dog fox in Sherwood Forest."
Then Will Stutely leaped high aloft and
laughed loudly, clapping his hands for pure joy that he should have been
chosen from among them all. "Now thanks, good master," quoth he, "and if
I bring not news of those knaves to thee, call me no more thy sly Will
Then he clad himself in a friar's gown,
and underneath the robe he hung a good broadsword in such a place that
he could easily lay hands upon it. Thus clad, he set forth upon his
quest, until he came to the verge of the forest, and so to the highway.
He saw two bands of the Sheriff's men, yet he turned neither to the
right nor the left, but only drew his cowl the closer over his face,
folding his hands as if in meditation. So at last he came to the Sign of
the Blue Boar. "For," quoth he to himself, "our good friend Eadom will
tell me all the news."
At the Sign of the Blue Boar he found a
band of the Sheriffs men drinking right lustily; so, without speaking to
anyone, he sat down upon a distant bench, his staff in his hand, and his
head bowed forward as though he were meditating. Thus he sat waiting
until he might see the landlord apart, and Eadom did not know him, but
thought him to be some poor tired friar, so he let him sit without
saying a word to him or molesting him, though he liked not the cloth.
"For," said he to himself, "it is a hard heart that kicks the lame dog
from off the sill." As Stutely sat thus, there came a great house cat
and rubbed against his knee, raising his robe a palm's-breadth high.
Stutely pushed his robe quickly down again, but the constable who
commanded the Sheriffs men saw what had passed, and saw also fair
Lincoln green beneath the friar's robe. He said nothing at the time, but
communed within himself in this wise: "Yon is no friar of orders gray,
and also, I wot, no honest yeoman goeth about in priest's garb, nor doth
a thief go so for nought. Now I think in good sooth that is one of Robin
Hood's own men." So, presently, he said aloud, "O holy father, wilt thou
not take a good pot of March beer to slake thy thirsty soul withal?"
But Stutely shook his head silently,
for he said to himself, "Maybe there be those here who know my voice."
Then the constable said again, "Whither
goest thou, holy friar, upon this hot summer's day?"
"I go a pilgrim to Canterbury Town,"
answered Will Stutely, speaking gruffly, so that none might know his
Then the constable said, for the third
time, "Now tell me, holy father, do pilgrims to Canterbury wear good
Lincoln green beneath their robes? Ha! By my faith, I take thee to be
some lusty thief, and perhaps one of Robin Hood's own band! Now, by Our
Lady's grace, if thou movest hand or foot, I will run thee through the
body with my sword!"
Then he flashed forth his bright sword
and leaped upon Will Stutely, thinking he would take him unaware; but
Stutely had his own sword tightly held in his hand, beneath his robe, so
he drew it forth before the constable came upon him. Then the stout
constable struck a mighty blow; but he struck no more in all that fight,
for Stutely, parrying the blow right deftly, smote the constable back
again with all his might. Then he would have escaped, but could not, for
the other, all dizzy with the wound and with the flowing blood, seized
him by the knees with his arms even as he reeled and fell. Then the
others rushed upon him, and Stutely struck again at another of the
Sheriff's men, but the steel cap glanced the blow, and though the blade
bit deep, it did not kill. Meanwhile, the constable, fainting as he was,
drew Stutely downward, and the others, seeing the yeoman hampered so,
rushed upon him again, and one smote him a blow upon the crown so that
the blood ran down his face and blinded him. Then, staggering, he fell,
and all sprang upon him, though he struggled so manfully that they could
hardly hold him fast. Then they bound him with stout hempen cords so
that he could not move either hand or foot, and thus they overcame him.
Robin Hood stood under the greenwood
tree, thinking of Will Stutely and how he might be faring, when suddenly
he saw two of his stout yeomen come running down the forest path, and
betwixt them ran buxom Maken of the Blue Boar. Then Robin's heart fell,
for he knew they were the bearers of ill tidings.
"Will Stutely hath been taken," cried
they, when they had come to where he stood.
"And is it thou that hast brought such
doleful news?" said Robin to the lass.
"Ay, marry, for I saw it all," cried
she, panting as the hare pants when it has escaped the hounds, "and I
fear he is wounded sore, for one smote him main shrewdly i' the crown.
They have bound him and taken him to Nottingham Town, and ere I left the
Blue Boar I heard that he should be hanged tomorrow day."
"He shall not be hanged tomorrow day,"
cried Robin; "or, if he be, full many a one shall gnaw the sod, and many
shall have cause to cry Alack-a-day!"
Then he clapped his horn to his lips
and blew three blasts right loudly, and presently his good yeomen came
running through the greenwood until sevenscore bold blades were gathered
"Now hark you all!" cried Robin. "Our
dear companion Will Stutely hath been taken by that vile Sheriff's men,
therefore doth it behoove us to take bow and brand in hand to bring him
off again; for I wot that we ought to risk life and limb for him, as he
hath risked life and limb for us. Is it not so, my merry men all?" Then
all cried, "Ay!" with a great voice.
So the next day they all wended their
way from Sherwood Forest, but by different paths, for it behooved them
to be very crafty; so the band separated into parties of twos and
threes, which were all to meet again in a tangled dell that lay near to
Nottingham Town. Then, when they had all gathered together at the place
of meeting, Robin spoke to them thus:
"Now we will lie here in ambush until
we can get news, for it doth behoove us to be cunning and wary if we
would bring our friend Will Stutely off from the Sheriff's clutches."
So they lay hidden a long time, until
the sun stood high in the sky. The day was warm and the dusty road was
bare of travelers, except an aged palmer who walked slowly along the
highroad that led close beside the gray castle wall of Nottingham Town.
When Robin saw that no other wayfarer was within sight, he called young
David of Doncaster, who was a shrewd man for his years, and said to him,
"Now get thee forth, young David, and speak to yonder palmer that walks
beside the town wall, for he hath come but now from Nottingham Town, and
may tell thee news of good Stutely, perchance."
So David strode forth, and when he came
up to the pilgrim, he saluted him and said, "Good morrow, holy father,
and canst thou tell me when Will Stutely will be hanged upon the gallows
tree? I fain would not miss the sight, for I have come from afar to see
so sturdy a rogue hanged."
"Now, out upon thee, young man," cried
the Palmer, "that thou shouldst speak so when a good stout man is to be
hanged for nothing but guarding his own life!" And he struck his staff
upon the ground in anger. "Alas, say I, that this thing should be! For
even this day, toward evening, when the sun falleth low, he shall be
hanged, fourscore rods from the great town gate of Nottingham, where
three roads meet; for there the Sheriff sweareth he shall die as a
warning to all outlaws in Nottinghamshire. But yet, I say again, Alas!
For, though Robin Hood and his band may be outlaws, yet he taketh only
from the rich and the strong and the dishonest man, while there is not a
poor widow nor a peasant with many children, nigh to Sherwood, but has
barley flour enough all the year long through him. It grieves my heart
to see one as gallant as this Stutely die, for I have been a good Saxon
yeoman in my day, ere I turned palmer, and well I know a stout hand and
one that smiteth shrewdly at a cruel Norman or a proud abbot with fat
moneybags. Had good Stutely's master but known how his man was compassed
about with perils, perchance he might send succor to bring him out of
the hand of his enemies.
"Ay, marry, that is true," cried the
young man. "If Robin and his men be nigh this place, I wot right well
they will strive to bring him forth from his peril. But fare thee well,
thou good old man, and believe me, if Will Stutely die, he shall be
right well avenged."
Then he turned and strode rapidly away;
but the Palmer looked after him, muttering, "I wot that youth is no
country hind that hath come to see a good man die. Well, well, perchance
Robin Hood is not so far away but that there will be stout doings this
day." So he went upon his way, muttering to himself.
When David of Doncaster told Robin Hood
what the Palmer had said to him, Robin called the band around him and
spoke to them thus:
"Now let us get straightway into
Nottingham Town and mix ourselves with the people there; but keep ye one
another in sight, pressing as near the prisoner and his guards as ye
can, when they come outside the walls. Strike no man without need, for I
would fain avoid bloodshed, but if ye do strike, strike hard, and see
that there be no need to strike again. Then keep all together until we
come again to Sherwood, and let no man leave his fellows."
The sun was low in the western sky when
a bugle note sounded from the castle wall. Then all was bustle in
Nottingham Town and crowds filled the streets, for all knew that the
famous Will Stutely was to be hanged that day. Presently the castle
gates opened wide and a great array of men-at-arms came forth with noise
and clatter, the Sheriff, all clad in shining mail of linked chain,
riding at their head. In the midst of all the guard, in a cart, with a
halter about his neck, rode Will Stutely. His face was pale with his
wound and with loss of blood, like the moon in broad daylight, and his
fair hair was clotted in points upon his forehead, where the blood had
hardened. When he came forth from the castle he looked up and he looked
down, but though he saw some faces that showed pity and some that showed
friendliness, he saw none that he knew. Then his heart sank within him
like a plummet of lead, but nevertheless he spoke up boldly.
"Give a sword into my hand, Sir
Sheriff," said he, "and wounded man though I be, I will fight thee and
all thy men till life and strength be gone."
"Nay, thou naughty varlet," quoth the
Sheriff, turning his head and looking right grimly upon Will Stutely,
"thou shalt have no sword but shall die a mean death, as beseemeth a
vile thief like thee."
"Then do but untie my hands and I will
fight thee and thy men with no weapon but only my naked fists. I crave
no weapon, but let me not be meanly hanged this day."
Then the Sheriff laughed aloud. "Why,
how now," quoth he, "is thy proud stomach quailing? Shrive thyself, thou
vile knave, for I mean that thou shalt hang this day, and that where
three roads meet, so that all men shall see thee hang, for carrion crows
and daws to peck at."
"O thou dastard heart!" cried Will
Stutely, gnashing his teeth at the Sheriff. "Thou coward hind! If ever
my good master meet thee thou shalt pay dearly for this day's work! He
doth scorn thee, and so do all brave hearts. Knowest thou not that thou
and thy name are jests upon the lips of every brave yeoman? Such a one
as thou art, thou wretched craven, will never be able to subdue bold
"Ha!" cried the Sheriff in a rage, "is
it even so? Am I a jest with thy master, as thou callest him? Now I will
make a jest of thee and a sorry jest withal, for I will quarter thee
limb from limb, after thou art hanged." Then he spurred his horse
forward and said no more to Stutely.
At last they came to the great town
gate, through which Stutely saw the fair country beyond, with hills and
dales all clothed in verdure, and far away the dusky line of Sherwood's
skirts. Then when he saw the slanting sunlight lying on field and
fallow, shining redly here and there on cot and farmhouse, and when he
heard the sweet birds singing their vespers, and the sheep bleating upon
the hillside, and beheld the swallows flying in the bright air, there
came a great fullness to his heart so that all things blurred to his
sight through salt tears, and he bowed his head lest the folk should
think him unmanly when they saw the tears in his eyes. Thus he kept his
head bowed till they had passed through the gate and were outside the
walls of the town. But when he looked up again he felt his heart leap
within him and then stand still for pure joy, for he saw the face of one
of his own dear companions of merry Sherwood; then glancing quickly
around he saw well-known faces upon all sides of him, crowding closely
upon the men-at-arms who were guarding him. Then of a sudden the blood
sprang to his cheeks, for he saw for a moment his own good master in the
press and, seeing him, knew that Robin Hood and all his band were there.
Yet betwixt him and them was a line of men-at-arms.
"Now, stand back!" cried the Sheriff in
a mighty voice, for the crowd pressed around on all sides. "What mean
ye, varlets, that ye push upon us so? Stand back, I say!"
Then came a bustle and a noise, and one
strove to push between the men-at-arms so as to reach the cart, and
Stutely saw that it was Little John that made all that stir.
"Now stand thou back!" cried one of the
men-at-arms whom Little John pushed with his elbows.
"Now stand thou back thine own self,"
quoth Little John, and straightway smote the man a buffet beside his
head that felled him as a butcher fells an ox, and then he leaped to the
cart where Stutely sat.
"I pray thee take leave of thy friends
ere thou diest, Will," quoth he, "or maybe I will die with thee if thou
must die, for I could never have better company." Then with one stroke
he cut the bonds that bound the other's arms and legs, and Stutely
leaped straightway from the cart.
"Now as I live," cried the Sheriff,
"yon varlet I know right well is a sturdy rebel! Take him, I bid you
all, and let him not go!"
So saying, he spurred his horse upon
Little John, and rising in his stirrups smote with might and main, but
Little John ducked quickly underneath the horse's belly and the blow
whistled harmlessly over his head.
"Nay, good Sir Sheriff," cried he,
leaping up again when the blow had passed, "I must e'en borrow thy most
worshipful sword." Thereupon he twitched the weapon deftly from out the
Sheriff's hand, "Here, Stutely," he cried, "the Sheriff hath lent thee
his sword! Back to back with me, man, and defend thyself, for help is
"Down with them!" bellowed the Sheriff
in a voice like an angry bull; and he spurred his horse upon the two who
now stood back to back, forgetting in his rage that he had no weapon
with which to defend himself.
"Stand back, Sheriff!" cried Little
John; and even as he spoke, a bugle horn sounded shrilly and a clothyard
shaft whistled within an inch of the Sheriff's head. Then came a swaying
hither and thither, and oaths, cries, and groans, and clashing of steel,
and swords flashed in the setting sun, and a score of arrows whistled
through the air. And some cried, "Help, help!" and some, "A rescue, a
"Treason!" cried the Sheriff in a loud
voice. "Bear back! Bear back! Else we be all dead men!" Thereupon he
reined his horse backward through the thickest of the crowd.
Now Robin Hood and his band might have
slain half of the Sheriff's men had they desired to do so, but they let
them push out of the press and get them gone, only sending a bunch of
arrows after them to hurry them in their flight.
"Oh stay!" shouted Will Stutely after
the Sheriff. "Thou wilt never catch bold Robin Hood if thou dost not
stand to meet him face to face." But the Sheriff, bowing along his
horse's back, made no answer but only spurred the faster.
Then Will Stutely turned to Little John
and looked him in the face till the tears ran down from his eyes and he
wept aloud; and kissing his friend's cheeks, "O Little John!" quoth he,
"mine own true friend, and he that I love better than man or woman in
all the world beside! Little did I reckon to see thy face this day, or
to meet thee this side Paradise." Little John could make no answer, but
Then Robin Hood gathered his band
together in a close rank, with Will Stutely in the midst, and thus they
moved slowly away toward Sherwood, and were gone, as a storm cloud moves
away from the spot where a tempest has swept the land. But they left ten
of the Sheriff's men lying along the ground wounded-- some more, some
less--yet no one knew who smote them down.
Thus the Sheriff of Nottingham tried
thrice to take Robin Hood and failed each time; and the last time he was
frightened, for he felt how near he had come to losing his life; so he
said, "These men fear neither God nor man, nor king nor king's officers.
I would sooner lose mine office than my life, so I will trouble them no
more." So he kept close within his castle for many a day and dared not
show his face outside of his own household, and all the time he was
gloomy and would speak to no one, for he was ashamed of what had
happened that day.
V. Robin Hood
Now after all these things
had happened, and it became known to Robin Hood how the Sheriff had
tried three times to make him captive, he said to himself, "If I have
the chance, I will make our worshipful Sheriff pay right well for that
which he hath done to me. Maybe I may bring him some time into Sherwood
Forest and have him to a right merry feast with us." For when Robin Hood
caught a baron or a squire, or a fat abbot or bishop, he brought them to
the greenwood tree and feasted them before he lightened their purses.
But in the meantime Robin Hood and his
band lived quietly in Sherwood Forest, without showing their faces
abroad, for Robin knew that it would not be wise for him to be seen in
the neighborhood of Nottingham, those in authority being very wroth with
him. But though they did not go abroad, they lived a merry life within
the woodlands, spending the days in shooting at garlands hung upon a
willow wand at the end of the glade, the leafy aisles ringing with merry
jests and laughter: for whoever missed the garland was given a sound
buffet, which, if delivered by Little John, never failed to topple over
the unfortunate yeoman. Then they had bouts of wrestling and of cudgel
play, so that every day they gained in skill and strength.
Thus they dwelled for nearly a year,
and in that time Robin Hood often turned over in his mind many means of
making an even score with the Sheriff. At last he began to fret at his
confinement; so one day he took up his stout cudgel and set forth to
seek adventure, strolling blithely along until he came to the edge of
Sherwood. There, as he rambled along the sunlit road, he met a lusty
young butcher driving a fine mare and riding in a stout new cart, all
hung about with meat. Merrily whistled the Butcher as he jogged along,
for he was going to the market, and the day was fresh and sweet, making
his heart blithe within him.
"Good morrow to thee, jolly fellow,"
quoth Robin, "thou seemest happy this merry morn."
"Ay, that am I," quoth the jolly
Butcher, "and why should I not be so? Am I not hale in wind and limb?
Have I not the bonniest lass in all Nottinghamshire? And lastly, am I
not to be married to her on Thursday next in sweet Locksley Town?"
"Ha," said Robin, "comest thou from
Locksley Town? Well do I know that fair place for miles about, and well
do I know each hedgerow and gentle pebbly stream, and even all the
bright little fishes therein, for there I was born and bred. Now, where
goest thou with thy meat, my fair friend?"
"I go to the market at Nottingham Town
to sell my beef and my mutton," answered the Butcher. "But who art thou
that comest from Locksley Town?"
"A yeoman am I, and men do call me
"Now, by Our Lady's grace," cried the
Butcher, "well do I know thy name, and many a time have I heard thy
deeds both sung and spoken of. But Heaven forbid that thou shouldst take
aught of me! An honest man am I, and have wronged neither man nor maid;
so trouble me not, good master, as I have never troubled thee."
"Nay, Heaven forbid, indeed," quoth
Robin, "that I should take from such as thee, jolly fellow! Not so much
as one farthing would I take from thee, for I love a fair Saxon face
like thine right well-- more especially when it cometh from Locksley
Town, and most especially when the man that owneth it is to marry a
bonny lass on Thursday next. But come, tell me for what price thou wilt
sell me all of thy meat and thy horse and cart."
"At four marks do I value meat, cart,
and mare," quoth the Butcher, "but if I do not sell all my meat I will
not have four marks in value."
Then Robin Hood plucked the purse from
his girdle, and quoth he, "Here in this purse are six marks. Now, I
would fain be a butcher for the day and sell my meat in Nottingham Town.
Wilt thou close a bargain with me and take six marks for thine outfit?"
"Now may the blessings of all the
saints fall on thine honest head!" cried the Butcher right joyfully, as
he leaped down from his cart and took the purse that Robin held out to
"Nay," quoth Robin, laughing loudly,
"many do like me and wish me well, but few call me honest. Now get thee
gone back to thy lass, and give her a sweet kiss from me." So saying, he
donned the Butcher's apron, and, climbing into the cart, he took the
reins in his hand and drove off through the forest to Nottingham Town.
When he came to Nottingham, he entered
that part of the market where butchers stood, and took up his inn in
the best place he could find. Next, he opened his stall and spread his
meat upon the bench, then, taking his cleaver and steel and clattering
them together, he trolled aloud in merry tones:
 Stand for selling.
"Now come, ye lasses, and eke ye dames,
And buy your meat from me;
For three pennyworths of meat I sell
For the charge of one penny.
"Lamb have I that hath fed upon nought
But the dainty dames pied,
And the violet sweet, and the daffodil
That grow fair streams beside.
"And beef have I from the heathery
And mutton from dales all green,
And veal as white as a
With its mother's milk, I ween.
"Then come, ye lasses, and eke ye
Come, buy your meat from me,
For three pennyworths of meat
For the charge of one penny."
Thus he sang blithely, while
all who stood near listened amazedly. Then, when he had finished, he
clattered the steel and cleaver still more loudly, shouting lustily,
"Now, who'll buy? Who'll buy? Four fixed prices have I. Three
pennyworths of meat I sell to a fat friar or priest for sixpence, for I
want not their custom; stout aldermen I charge threepence, for it doth
not matter to me whether they buy or not; to buxom dames I sell three
pennyworths of meat for one penny for I like their custom well; but to
the bonny lass that hath a liking for a good tight butcher I charge
nought but one fair kiss, for I like her custom the best of all."
Then all began to stare and wonder and
crowd around, laughing, for never was such selling heard of in all
Nottingham Town; but when they came to buy they found it as he had said,
for he gave goodwife or dame as much meat for one penny as they could
buy elsewhere for three, and when a widow or a poor woman came to him,
he gave her flesh for nothing; but when a merry lass came and gave him a
kiss, he charged not one penny for his meat; and many such came to his
stall, for his eyes were as blue as the skies of June, and he laughed
merrily, giving to each full measure. Thus he sold his meat so fast that
no butcher that stood near him could sell anything.
Then they began to talk among
themselves, and some said, "This must be some thief who has stolen cart,
horse, and meat"; but others said, "Nay, when did ye ever see a thief
who parted with his goods so freely and merrily? This must be some
prodigal who hath sold his father's land, and would fain live merrily
while the money lasts." And these latter being the greater number, the
others came round, one by one to their way of thinking.
Then some of the butchers came to him
to make his acquaintance. "Come, brother," quoth one who was the head of
them all, "we be all of one trade, so wilt thou go dine with us? For
this day the Sheriff hath asked all the Butcher Guild to feast with him
at the Guild Hall. There will be stout fare and much to drink, and that
thou likest, or I much mistake thee."
"Now, beshrew his heart," quoth jolly
Robin, "that would deny a butcher. And, moreover, I will go dine with
you all, my sweet lads, and that as fast as I can hie." Whereupon,
having sold all his meat, he closed his stall and went with them to the
great Guild Hall.
There the Sheriff had already come in
state, and with him many butchers. When Robin and those that were with
him came in, all laughing at some merry jest he had been telling them,
those that were near the Sheriff whispered to him, "Yon is a right mad
blade, for he hath sold more meat for one penny this day than we could
sell for three, and to whatsoever merry lass gave him a kiss he gave
meat for nought." And others said, "He is some prodigal that hath sold
his land for silver and gold, and meaneth to spend all right merrily."
Then the Sheriff called Robin to him,
not knowing him in his butcher's dress, and made him sit close to him on
his right hand; for he loved a rich young prodigal--especially when he
thought that he might lighten that prodigal's pockets into his own most
worshipful purse. So he made much of Robin, and laughed and talked with
him more than with any of the others.
At last the dinner was ready to be
served and the Sheriff bade Robin say grace, so Robin stood up and said,
"Now Heaven bless us all and eke good meat and good sack within this
house, and may all butchers be and remain as honest men as I am."
At this all laughed, the Sheriff
loudest of all, for he said to himself, "Surely this is indeed some
prodigal, and perchance I may empty his purse of some of the money that
the fool throweth about so freely." Then he spake aloud to Robin,
saying, "Thou art a jolly young blade, and I love thee mightily"; and he
smote Robin upon the shoulder.
Then Robin laughed loudly too. "Yea,"
quoth he, "I know thou dost love a jolly blade, for didst thou not have
jolly Robin Hood at thy shooting match and didst thou not gladly give
him a bright golden arrow for his own?"
At this the Sheriff looked grave and
all the guild of butchers too, so that none laughed but Robin, only some
winked slyly at each other.
"Come, fill us some sack!" cried Robin.
"Let us e'er be merry while we may, for man is but dust, and he hath but
a span to live here till the worm getteth him, as our good gossip
Swanthold sayeth; so let life be merry while it lasts, say I. Nay, never
look down i' the mouth, Sir Sheriff. Who knowest but that thou mayest
catch Robin Hood yet, if thou drinkest less good sack and Malmsey, and
bringest down the fat about thy paunch and the dust from out thy brain.
Be merry, man."
Then the Sheriff laughed again, but not
as though he liked the jest, while the butchers said, one to another,
"Before Heaven, never have we seen such a mad rollicking blade. Mayhap,
though, he will make the Sheriff mad."
"How now, brothers," cried Robin, "be
merry! nay, never count over your farthings, for by this and by that I
will pay this shot myself, e'en though it cost two hundred pounds. So
let no man draw up his lip, nor thrust his forefinger into his purse,
for I swear that neither butcher nor Sheriff shall pay one penny for
"Now thou art a right merry soul,"
quoth the Sheriff, "and I wot thou must have many a head of horned
beasts and many an acre of land, that thou dost spend thy money so
"Ay, that have I," quoth Robin,
laughing loudly again, "five hundred and more horned beasts have I and
my brothers, and none of them have we been able to sell, else I might
not have turned butcher. As for my land, I have never asked my steward
how many acres I have."
At this the Sheriff's eyes twinkled,
and he chuckled to himself. "Nay, good youth," quoth he, "if thou canst
not sell thy cattle, it may be I will find a man that will lift them
from thy hands; perhaps that man may be myself, for I love a merry youth
and would help such a one along the path of life. Now how much dost thou
want for thy horned cattle?"
"Well," quoth Robin, "they are worth at
least five hundred pounds."
"Nay," answered the Sheriff slowly, and
as if he were thinking within himself, "well do I love thee, and fain
would I help thee along, but five hundred pounds in money is a good
round sum; besides I have it not by me. Yet I will give thee three
hundred pounds for them all, and that in good hard silver and gold."
"Now thou old miser!" quoth Robin,
"well thou knowest that so many horned cattle are worth seven hundred
pounds and more, and even that is but small for them, and yet thou, with
thy gray hairs and one foot in the grave, wouldst trade upon the folly
of a wild youth."
At this the Sheriff looked grimly at
Robin. "Nay," quoth Robin, "look not on me as though thou hadst sour
beer in thy mouth, man. I will take thine offer, for I and my brothers
do need the money. We lead a merry life, and no one leads a merry life
for a farthing, so I will close the bargain with thee. But mind that
thou bringest a good three hundred pounds with thee, for I trust not one
that driveth so shrewd a bargain."
"I will bring the money," said the
Sheriff. "But what is thy name, good youth?"
"Men call me Robert o' Locksley," quoth
"Then, good Robert o' Locksley," quoth
the Sheriff, "I will come this day to see thy horned beasts. But first
my clerk shall draw up a paper in which thou shalt be bound to the sale,
for thou gettest not my money without I get thy beasts in return."
Then Robin Hood laughed again. "So be
it," he said, smiting his palm upon the Sheriff's hand. "Truly my
brothers will be thankful to thee for thy money."
Thus the bargain was closed, but many
of the butchers talked among themselves of the Sheriff, saying that it
was but a scurvy trick to beguile a poor spendthrift youth in this way.
The afternoon had come when the Sheriff
mounted his horse and joined Robin Hood, who stood outside the gateway
of the paved court waiting for him, for he had sold his horse and cart
to a trader for two marks. Then they set forth upon their way, the
Sheriff riding upon his horse and Robin running beside him. Thus they
left Nottingham Town and traveled forward along the dusty highway,
laughing and jesting together as though they had been old friends. But
all the time the Sheriff said within himself, "Thy jest to me of Robin
Hood shall cost thee dear, good fellow, even four hundred pounds, thou
fool." For he thought he would make at least that much by his bargain.
So they journeyed onward till they came
within the verge of Sherwood Forest, when presently the Sheriff looked
up and down and to the right and to the left of him, and then grew quiet
and ceased his laughter. "Now," quoth he, "may Heaven and its saints
preserve us this day from a rogue men call Robin Hood."
Then Robin laughed aloud. "Nay," said
he, "thou mayst set thy mind at rest, for well do I know Robin Hood and
well do I know that thou art in no more danger from him this day than
thou art from me."
At this the Sheriff looked askance at
Robin, saying to himself, "I like not that thou seemest so well
acquainted with this bold outlaw, and I wish that I were well out of
But still they traveled deeper into the
forest shades, and the deeper they went, the more quiet grew the
Sheriff. At last they came to where the road took a sudden bend, and
before them a herd of dun deer went tripping across the path. Then Robin
Hood came close to the Sheriff and pointing his finger, he said, "These
are my horned beasts, good Master Sheriff. How dost thou like them? Are
they not fat and fair to see?"
At this the Sheriff drew rein quickly.
"Now fellow," quoth he, "I would I were well out of this forest, for I
like not thy company. Go thou thine own path, good friend, and let me
but go mine."
But Robin only laughed and caught the
Sheriff's bridle rein. "Nay," cried he, "stay awhile, for I would thou
shouldst see my brothers, who own these fair horned beasts with me." So
saying, he clapped his bugle to his mouth and winded three merry notes,
and presently up the path came leaping fivescore good stout yeomen with
Little John at their head.
"What wouldst thou have, good master?"
quoth Little John.
"Why," answered Robin, "dost thou not
see that I have brought goodly company to feast with us today? Fye, for
shame! Do you not see our good and worshipful master, the Sheriff of
Nottingham? Take thou his bridle, Little John, for he has honored us
today by coming to feast with us."
Then all doffed their hats humbly,
without smiling or seeming to be in jest, while Little John took the
bridle rein and led the palfrey still deeper into the forest, all
marching in order, with Robin Hood walking beside the Sheriff, hat in
All this time the Sheriff said never a
word but only looked about him like one suddenly awakened from sleep;
but when he found himself going within the very depths of Sherwood his
heart sank within him, for he thought, "Surely my three hundred pounds
will be taken from me, even if they take not my life itself, for I have
plotted against their lives more than once." But all seemed humble and
meek and not a word was said of danger, either to life or money.
So at last they came to that part of
Sherwood Forest where a noble oak spread its branches wide, and beneath
it was a seat all made of moss, on which Robin sat down, placing the
Sheriff at his right hand. "Now busk ye, my merry men all," quoth he,
"and bring forth the best we have, both of meat and wine, for his
worship the Sheriff hath feasted me in Nottingham Guild Hall today, and
I would not have him go back empty."
All this time nothing had been said of
the Sheriff's money, so presently he began to pluck up heart. "For,"
said he to himself, "maybe Robin Hood hath forgotten all about it."
Then, while beyond in the forest bright
fires crackled and savory smells of sweetly roasting venison and fat
capons filled the glade, and brown pasties warmed beside the blaze, did
Robin Hood entertain the Sheriff right royally. First, several couples
stood forth at quarterstaff, and so shrewd were they at the game, and so
quickly did they give stroke and parry, that the Sheriff, who loved to
watch all lusty sports of the kind, clapped his hands, forgetting where
he was, and crying aloud, "Well struck! Well struck, thou fellow with
the black beard!" little knowing that the man he called upon was the
Tinker that tried to serve his warrant upon Robin Hood.
Then several yeomen came forward and
spread cloths upon the green grass, and placed a royal feast; while
others still broached barrels of sack and Malmsey and good stout ale,
and set them in jars upon the cloth, with drinking horns about them.
Then all sat down and feasted and drank merrily together until the sun
was low and the half-moon glimmered with a pale light betwixt the leaves
of the trees overhead.
Then the Sheriff arose and said, "I
thank you all, good yeomen, for the merry entertainment ye have given me
this day. Right courteously have ye used me, showing therein that ye
have much respect for our glorious King and his deputy in brave
Nottinghamshire. But the shadows grow long, and I must away before
darkness comes, lest I lose myself within the forest."
Then Robin Hood and all his merry men
arose also, and Robin said to the Sheriff, "If thou must go, worshipful
sir, go thou must; but thou hast forgotten one thing."
"Nay, I forgot nought," said the
Sheriff; yet all the same his heart sank within him.
"But I say thou hast forgot something,"
quoth Robin. "We keep a merry inn here in the greenwood, but whoever
becometh our guest must pay his reckoning."
Then the Sheriff laughed, but the laugh
was hollow. "Well, jolly boys," quoth he, "we have had a merry time
together today, and even if ye had not asked me, I would have given you
a score of pounds for the sweet entertainment I have had."
"Nay," quoth Robin seriously, "it would
ill beseem us to treat Your Worship so meanly. By my faith, Sir Sheriff,
I would be ashamed to show my face if I did not reckon the King's deputy
at three hundred pounds. Is it not so, my merry men all?"
Then "Ay!" cried all, in a loud voice.
"Three hundred devils!" roared the
Sheriff. "Think ye that your beggarly feast was worth three pounds, let
alone three hundred?"
"Nay," quoth Robin gravely. "Speak not
so roundly, Your Worship. I do love thee for the sweet feast thou hast
given me this day in merry Nottingham Town; but there be those here who
love thee not so much. If thou wilt look down the cloth thou wilt see
Will Stutely, in whose eyes thou hast no great favor; then two other
stout fellows are there here that thou knowest not, that were wounded in
a brawl nigh Nottingham Town, some time ago--thou wottest when; one of
them was sore hurt in one arm, yet he hath got the use of it again. Good
Sheriff, be advised by me; pay thy score without more ado, or maybe it
may fare ill with thee."
As he spoke the Sheriff's ruddy cheeks
grew pale, and he said nothing more but looked upon the ground and
gnawed his nether lip. Then slowly he drew forth his fat purse and threw
it upon the cloth in front of him.
"Now take the purse, Little John,"
quoth Robin Hood, "and see that the reckoning be right. We would not
doubt our Sheriff, but he might not like it if he should find he had not
paid his full score."
Then Little John counted the money and
found that the bag held three hundred pounds in silver and gold. But to
the Sheriff it seemed as if every clink of the bright money was a drop
of blood from his veins. And when he saw it all counted out in a heap of
silver and gold, filling a wooden platter, he turned away and silently
mounted his horse.
"Never have we had so worshipful a
guest before!" quoth Robin, "and, as the day waxeth late, I will send
one of my young men to guide thee out of the forest depths."
"Nay, Heaven forbid!" cried the Sheriff
hastily. "I can find mine own way, good man, without aid."
"Then I will put thee on the right
track mine own self," quoth Robin, and, taking the Sheriff's horse by
the bridle rein, he led him into the main forest path. Then, before he
let him go, he said, "Now, fare thee well, good Sheriff, and when next
thou thinkest to despoil some poor prodigal, remember thy feast in
Sherwood Forest. `Ne'er buy a horse, good friend, without first looking
into its mouth,' as our good gaffer Swanthold says. And so, once more,
fare thee well." Then he clapped his hand to the horse's back, and off
went nag and Sheriff through the forest glades.
Then bitterly the Sheriff rued the day
that first he meddled with Robin Hood, for all men laughed at him and
many ballads were sung by folk throughout the country, of how the
Sheriff went to shear and came home shorn to the very quick. For thus
men sometimes overreach themselves through greed and guile.
VI. Little John
Goes to Nottingham Fair
Spring had gone since the Sheriff's feast in Sherwood, and summer also,
and the mellow month of October had come. All the air was cool and
fresh; the harvests were gathered home, the young birds were full
fledged, the hops were plucked, and apples were ripe. But though time
had so smoothed things over that men no longer talked of the horned
beasts that the Sheriff wished to buy, he was still sore about the
matter and could not bear to hear Robin Hood's name spoken in his
With October had come the time for
holding the great Fair which was celebrated every five years at
Nottingham Town, to which folk came from far and near throughout the
country. At such times archery was always the main sport of the day, for
the Nottinghamshire yeomen were the best hand at the longbow in all
merry England, but this year the Sheriff hesitated a long time before he
issued proclamation of the Fair, fearing lest Robin Hood and his band
might come to it. At first he had a great part of a mind not to proclaim
the Fair, but second thought told him that men would laugh at him and
say among themselves that he was afraid of Robin Hood, so he put that
thought by. At last he fixed in his mind that he would offer such a
prize as they would not care to shoot for. At such times it had been the
custom to offer a half score of marks or a tun of ale, so this year he
proclaimed that a prize of two fat steers should be given to the best
When Robin Hood heard what had been
proclaimed he was vexed, and said, "Now beshrew this Sheriff that he
should offer such a prize that none but shepherd hinds will care to
shoot for it! I would have loved nothing better than to have had another
bout at merry Nottingham Town, but if I should win this prize nought
would it pleasure or profit me."
Then up spoke Little John: "Nay, but
hearken, good master," said he, "only today Will Stutely, young David of
Doncaster, and I were at the Sign of the Blue Boar, and there we heard
all the news of this merry Fair, and also that the Sheriff hath offered
this prize, that we of Sherwood might not care to come to the Fair; so,
good master, if thou wilt, I would fain go and strive to win even this
poor thing among the stout yeomen who will shoot at Nottingham Town."
"Nay, Little John," quoth Robin, "thou
art a sound stout fellow, yet thou lackest the cunning that good Stutely
hath, and I would not have harm befall thee for all Nottinghamshire.
Nevertheless, if thou wilt go, take some disguise lest there be those
there who may know thee."
"So be it, good master," quoth Little
John, "yet all the disguise that I wish is a good suit of scarlet
instead of this of Lincoln green. I will draw the cowl of my jacket
about my head so that it will hide my brown hair and beard, and then, I
trust, no one will know me."
"It is much against my will," said
Robin Hood, "ne'ertheless, if thou dost wish it, get thee gone, but bear
thyself seemingly, Little John, for thou art mine own right-hand man and
I could ill bear to have harm befall thee."
So Little John clad himself all in
scarlet and started off to the Fair at Nottingham Town.
Right merry were these Fair days at
Nottingham, when the green before the great town gate was dotted with
booths standing in rows, with tents of many-colored canvas, hung about
with streamers and garlands of flowers, and the folk came from all the
countryside, both gentle and common. In some booths there was dancing to
merry music, in others flowed ale and beer, and in others yet again
sweet cakes and barley sugar were sold; and sport was going outside the
booths also, where some minstrel sang ballads of the olden time, playing
a second upon the harp, or where the wrestlers struggled with one
another within the sawdust ring, but the people gathered most of all
around a raised platform where stout fellows played at quarterstaff.
So Little John came to the Fair. All
scarlet were his hose and jerkin, and scarlet was his cowled cap, with a
scarlet feather stuck in the side of it. Over his shoulders was slung a
stout bow of yew, and across his back hung a quiver of good round
arrows. Many turned to look after such a stout, tall fellow, for his
shoulders were broader by a palm's-breadth than any that were there, and
he stood a head taller than all the other men. The lasses, also, looked
at him askance, thinking they had never seen a lustier youth.
First of all he went to the booth where
stout ale was sold and, standing aloft on a bench, he called to all that
were near to come and drink with him. "Hey, sweet lads!" cried he "who
will drink ale with a stout yeoman? Come, all! Come, all! Let us be
merry, for the day is sweet and the ale is tingling. Come hither, good
yeoman, and thou, and thou; for not a farthing shall one of you pay.
Nay, turn hither, thou lusty beggar, and thou jolly tinker, for all
shall be merry with me.
Thus he shouted, and all crowded
around, laughing, while the brown ale flowed; and they called Little
John a brave fellow, each swearing that he loved him as his own brother;
for when one has entertainment with nothing to pay, one loves the man
that gives it to one.
Then he strolled to the platform where
they were at cudgel play, for he loved a bout at quarterstaff as he
loved meat and drink; and here befell an adventure that was sung in
ballads throughout the mid-country for many a day.
One fellow there was that cracked
crowns of everyone who threw cap into the ring. This was Eric o'
Lincoln, of great renown, whose name had been sung in ballads throughout
the countryside. When Little John reached the stand he found none
fighting, but only bold Eric walking up and down the platform, swinging
his staff and shouting lustily, "Now, who will come and strike a stroke
for the lass he loves the best, with a good Lincolnshire yeoman? How
now, lads? Step up! Step up! Or else the lasses' eyes are not bright
hereabouts, or the blood of Nottingham youth is sluggish and cold.
Lincoln against Nottingham, say I! For no one hath put foot upon the
boards this day such as we of Lincoln call a cudgel player."
At this, one would nudge another with
his elbow, saying, "Go thou, Ned!" or "Go thou, Thomas!" but no lad
cared to gain a cracked crown for nothing.
Presently Eric saw where Little John
stood among the others, a head and shoulders above them all, and he
called to him loudly, "Halloa, thou long-legged fellow in scarlet! Broad
are thy shoulders and thick thy head; is not thy lass fair enough for
thee to take cudgel in hand for her sake? In truth, I believe that
Nottingham men do turn to bone and sinew, for neither heart nor courage
have they! Now, thou great lout, wilt thou not twirl staff for
"Ay," quoth Little John, "had I but
mine own good staff here, it would pleasure me hugely to crack thy
knave's pate, thou saucy braggart! I wot it would be well for thee an
thy cock's comb were cut!" Thus he spoke, slowly at first, for he was
slow to move; but his wrath gathered headway like a great stone rolling
down a hill, so that at the end he was full of anger.
Then Eric o' Lincoln laughed aloud.
"Well spoken for one who fears to meet me fairly, man to man," said he.
"Saucy art thou thine own self, and if thou puttest foot upon these
boards, I will make thy saucy tongue rattle within thy teeth!"
"Now," quoth Little John, "is there
never a man here that will lend me a good stout staff till I try the
mettle of yon fellow?" At this, half a score reached him their staves,
and he took the stoutest and heaviest of them all. Then, looking up and
down the cudgel, he said, "Now, I have in my hand but a splint of
wood--a barley straw, as it were--yet I trow it will have to serve me,
so here goeth." Thereupon he cast the cudgel upon the stand and, leaping
lightly after it, snatched it up in his hand again.
Then each man stood in his place and
measured the other with fell looks until he that directed the sport
cried, "Play!" At this they stepped forth, each grasping his staff
tightly in the middle. Then those that stood around saw the stoutest
game of quarterstaff that e'er Nottingham Town beheld. At first Eric o'
Lincoln thought that he would gain an easy advantage, so he came forth
as if he would say, "Watch, good people, how that I carve you this
cockerel right speedily"; but he presently found it to be no such speedy
matter. Right deftly he struck, and with great skill of fence, but he
had found his match in Little John. Once, twice, thrice, he struck, and
three times Little John turned the blows to the left hand and to the
right. Then quickly and with a dainty backhanded blow, he rapped Eric
beneath his guard so shrewdly that it made his head ring again. Then
Eric stepped back to gather his wits, while a great shout went up and
all were glad that Nottingham had cracked Lincoln's crown; and thus
ended the first bout of the game.
Then presently the director of the
sport cried, "Play!" and they came together again; but now Eric played
warily, for he found his man was of right good mettle, and also he had
no sweet memory of the blow that he had got; so this bout neither Little
John nor the Lincoln man caught a stroke within his guard. Then, after a
while, they parted again, and this made the second bout.
Then for the third time they came
together, and at first Eric strove to be wary, as he had been before;
but, growing mad at finding himself so foiled, he lost his wits and
began to rain blows so fiercely and so fast that they rattled like hail
on penthouse roof; but, in spite of all, he did not reach within Little
John's guard. Then at last Little John saw his chance and seized it
right cleverly. Once more, with a quick blow, he rapped Eric beside the
head, and ere he could regain himself, Little John slipped his right
hand down to his left and, with a swinging blow, smote the other so
sorely upon the crown that down he fell as though he would never move
Then the people shouted so loud that
folk came running from all about to see what was the ado; while Little
John leaped down from the stand and gave the staff back to him that had
lent it to him. And thus ended the famous bout between Little John and
Eric o' Lincoln of great renown.
But now the time had come when those
who were to shoot with the longbow were to take their places, so the
people began flocking to the butts where the shooting was to be. Near
the target, in a good place, sat the Sheriff upon a raised dais, with
many gentlefolk around him. When the archers had taken their places, the
herald came forward and proclaimed the rules of the game, and how each
should shoot three shots, and to him that should shoot the best the
prize of two fat steers was to belong. A score of brave shots were
gathered there, and among them some of the keenest hands at the longbow
in Lincoln and Nottinghamshire; and among them Little John stood taller
than all the rest. "Who is yon stranger clad all in scarlet?" said some,
and others answered, "It is he that hath but now so soundly cracked the
crown of Eric o' Lincoln." Thus the people talked among themselves,
until at last it reached even the Sheriff's ears.
And now each man stepped forward and
shot in turn; but though each shot well, Little John was the best of
all, for three times he struck the clout, and once only the length of a
barleycorn from the center. "Hey for the tall archer!" shouted the
crowd, and some among them shouted, "Hey for Reynold Greenleaf!" for
this was the name that Little John had called himself that day.
Then the Sheriff stepped down from the
raised seat and came to where the archers stood, while all doffed their
caps that saw him coming. He looked keenly at Little John but did not
know him, though he said, after a while, "How now, good fellow, methinks
there is that about thy face that I have seen erewhile."
"Mayhap it may be so," quoth Little
John, "for often have I seen Your Worship." And, as he spoke, he looked
steadily into the Sheriff's eyes so that the latter did not suspect who
"A brave blade art thou, good friend,"
said the Sheriff, "and I hear that thou hast well upheld the skill of
Nottinghamshire against that of Lincoln this day. What may be thy name,
"Men do call me Reynold Greenleaf, Your
Worship," said Little John; and the old ballad that tells of this, adds,
"So, in truth, was he a green leaf, but of what manner of tree the
Sheriff wotted not."
"Now, Reynold Greenleaf," quoth the
Sheriff, "thou art the fairest hand at the longbow that mine eyes ever
beheld, next to that false knave, Robin Hood, from whose wiles Heaven
forfend me! Wilt thou join my service, good fellow? Thou shalt be paid
right well, for three suits of clothes shalt thou have a year, with good
food and as much ale as thou canst drink; and, besides this, I will pay
thee forty marks each Michaelmastide."
"Then here stand I a free man, and
right gladly will I enter thy household," said Little John, for he
thought he might find some merry jest, should he enter the Sheriff's
"Fairly hast thou won the fat steers,"
said the Sheriff, "and "hereunto I will add a butt of good March beer,
for joy of having gotten such a man; for, I wot, thou shootest as fair a
shaft as Robin Hood himself."
"Then," said Little John, "for joy of
having gotten myself into thy service, I will give fat steers and brown
ale to all these good folk, to make them merry withal." At this arose a
great shout, many casting their caps aloft, for joy of the gift.
Then some built great fires and roasted
the steers, and others broached the butt of ale, with which all made
themselves merry. Then, when they had eaten and drunk as much as they
could, and when the day faded and the great moon arose, all red and
round, over the spires and towers of Nottingham Town, they joined hands
and danced around the fires, to the music of bagpipes and harps. But
long before this merrymaking had begun, the Sheriff and his new servant
Reynold Greenleaf were in the Castle of Nottingham.
VII. How Little
John Lived at the Sheriff's
Thus Little John entered into the
Sheriff's service and found the life he led there easy enough, for the
Sheriff made him his right-hand man and held him in great favor. He sat
nigh the Sheriff at meat, and he ran beside his horse when he went
a-hunting; so that, what with hunting and hawking a little, and eating
rich dishes and drinking good sack, and sleeping until late hours in the
morning, he grew as fat as a stall-fed ox. Thus things floated easily
along with the tide, until one day when the Sheriff went a-hunting,
there happened that which broke the smooth surface of things.
This morning the Sheriff and many of
his men set forth to meet certain lords, to go a-hunting. He looked all
about him for his good man, Reynold Greenleaf, but, not finding him, was
vexed, for he wished to show Little John's skill to his noble friends.
As for Little John, he lay abed, snoring lustily, till the sun was high
in the heavens. At last he opened his eyes and looked about him but did
not move to arise. Brightly shone the sun in at the window, and all the
air was sweet with the scent of woodbine that hung in sprays about the
wall without, for the cold winter was past and spring was come again,
and Little John lay still, thinking how sweet was everything on this
fair morn. Just then he heard, faint and far away, a distant bugle note
sounding thin and clear. The sound was small, but, like a little pebble
dropped into a glassy fountain, it broke all the smooth surface of his
thoughts, until his whole soul was filled with disturbance. His spirit
seemed to awaken from its sluggishness, and his memory brought back to
him all the merry greenwood life--how the birds were singing blithely
there this bright morning, and how his loved companions and friends were
feasting and making merry, or perhaps talking of him with sober speech;
for when he first entered the Sheriff's service he did so in jest; but
the hearthstone was warm during the winter, and the fare was full, and
so he had abided, putting off from day to day his going back to
Sherwood, until six long months had passed. But now he thought of his
good master and of Will Stutely, whom he loved better than anyone in all
the world, and of young David of Doncaster, whom he had trained so well
in all manly sports, till there came over his heart a great and bitter
longing for them all, so that his eyes filled with tears. Then he said
aloud, "Here I grow fat like a stall-fed ox and all my manliness
departeth from me while I become a sluggard and dolt. But I will arouse
me and go back to mine own dear friends once more, and never will I
leave them again till life doth leave my lips." So saying, he leaped
from bed, for he hated his sluggishness now.
When he came downstairs he saw the
Steward standing near the pantry door-- a great, fat man, with a huge
bundle of keys hanging to his girdle. Then Little John said, "Ho, Master
Steward, a hungry man am I, for nought have I had for all this blessed
morn. Therefore, give me to eat."
Then the Steward looked grimly at him
and rattled the keys in his girdle, for he hated Little John because he
had found favor with the Sheriff. "So, Master Reynold Greenleaf, thou
art anhungered, art thou?" quoth he. "But, fair youth, if thou livest
long enough, thou wilt find that he who getteth overmuch sleep for an
idle head goeth with an empty stomach. For what sayeth the old saw,
Master Greenleaf? Is it not `The late fowl findeth but ill faring'?"
"Now, thou great purse of fat!" cried
Little John, "I ask thee not for fool's wisdom, but for bread and meat.
Who art thou, that thou shouldst deny me to eat? By Saint Dunstan, thou
hadst best tell me where my breakfast is, if thou wouldst save broken
"Thy breakfast, Master Fireblaze, is in
the pantry," answered the Steward.
"Then fetch it hither!" cried Little
John, who waxed angry by this time.
"Go thou and fetch it thine own self,"
quoth the Steward. "Am I thy slave, to fetch and carry for thee?"
"I say, go thou, bring it me!"
"I say, go thou, fetch it for thyself!"
"Ay, marry, that will I, right
quickly!" quoth Little John in a rage. And, so saying, he strode to the
pantry and tried to open the door but found it locked, whereat the
Steward laughed and rattled his keys. Then the wrath of Little John
boiled over, and, lifting his clenched fist, he smote the pantry door,
bursting out three panels and making so large an opening that he could
easily stoop and walk through it.
When the Steward saw what was done, he
waxed mad with rage; and, as Little John stooped to look within the
pantry, he seized him from behind by the nape of the neck, pinching him
sorely and smiting him over the head with his keys till the yeoman's
ears rang again. At this Little John turned upon the Steward and smote
him such a buffet that the fat man fell to the floor and lay there as
though he would never move again. "There," quoth Little John, "think
well of that stroke and never keep a good breakfast from a hungry man
So saying, he crept into the pantry and
looked about him to see if he could find something to appease his
hunger. He saw a great venison pasty and two roasted capons, beside
which was a platter of plover's eggs; moreover, there was a flask of
sack and one of canary--a sweet sight to a hungry man. These he took
down from the shelves and placed upon a sideboard, and prepared to make
Now the Cook, in the kitchen across the
courtyard, heard the loud talking between Little John and the Steward,
and also the blow that Little John struck the other, so he came running
across the court and up the stairway to where the Steward's pantry was,
bearing in his hands the spit with the roast still upon it. Meanwhile
the Steward had gathered his wits about him and risen to his feet, so
that when the Cook came to the Steward's pantry he saw him glowering
through the broken door at Little John, who was making ready for a good
repast, as one dog glowers at another that has a bone. When the Steward
saw the Cook, he came to him, and, putting one arm over his shoulder,
"Alas, sweet friend!" quoth he--for the Cook was a tall, stout
man--"seest thou what that vile knave Reynold Greenleaf hath done? He
hath broken in upon our master's goods, and hath smitten me a buffet
upon the ear, so that I thought I was dead. Good Cook, I love thee well,
and thou shalt have a good pottle of our master's best wine every day,
for thou art an old and faithful servant. Also, good Cook, I have ten
shillings that I mean to give as a gift to thee. But hatest thou not to
see a vile upstart like this Reynold Greenleaf taking it upon him so
"Ay, marry, that do I," quoth the Cook
boldly, for he liked the Steward because of his talk of the wine and of
the ten shillings. "Get thee gone straightway to thy room, and I will
bring out this knave by his ears." So saying, he laid aside his spit and
drew the sword that hung by his side; whereupon the Steward left as
quickly as he could, for he hated the sight of naked steel.
Then the Cook walked straightway to the
broken pantry door, through which he saw Little John tucking a napkin
beneath his chin and preparing to make himself merry.
"Why, how now, Reynold Greenleaf?" said
the Cook, "thou art no better than a thief, I wot. Come thou straight
forth, man, or I will carve thee as I would carve a sucking pig."
"Nay, good Cook, bear thou thyself more
seemingly, or else I will come forth to thy dole. At most times I am as
a yearling lamb, but when one cometh between me and my meat, I am a
raging lion, as it were."
"Lion or no lion," quoth the valorous
Cook, "come thou straight forth, else thou art a coward heart as well as
a knavish thief."
"Ha!" cried Little John, "coward's name
have I never had; so, look to thyself, good Cook, for I come forth
straight, the roaring lion I did speak of but now."
Then he, too, drew his sword and came
out of the pantry; then, putting themselves into position, they came
slowly together, with grim and angry looks; but suddenly Little John
lowered his point. "Hold, good Cook!" said he. "Now, I bethink me it
were ill of us to fight with good victuals standing so nigh, and such a
feast as would befit two stout fellows such as we are. Marry, good
friend, I think we should enjoy this fair feast ere we fight. What
sayest thou, jolly Cook?"
At this speech the Cook looked up and
down, scratching his head in doubt, for he loved good feasting. At last
he drew a long breath and said to Little John, "Well, good friend, I
like thy plan right well; so, pretty boy, say I, let us feast, with all
my heart, for one of us may sup in Paradise before nightfall."
So each thrust his sword back into the
scabbard and entered the pantry. Then, after they had seated themselves,
Little John drew his dagger and thrust it into the pie. "A hungry man
must be fed," quoth he, "so, sweet chuck, I help myself without leave."
But the Cook did not lag far behind, for straightway his hands also were
deeply thrust within the goodly pasty. After this, neither of them spoke
further, but used their teeth to better purpose. But though neither
spoke, they looked at one another, each thinking within himself that he
had never seen a more lusty fellow than the one across the board.
At last, after a long time had passed,
the Cook drew a full, deep breath, as though of much regret, and wiped
his hands upon the napkin, for he could eat no more. Little John, also,
had enough, for he pushed the pasty aside, as though he would say, "I
want thee by me no more, good friend." Then he took the pottle of sack,
and said he, "Now, good fellow, I swear by all that is bright, that thou
art the stoutest companion at eating that ever I had. Lo! I drink thy
health." So saying, he clapped the flask to his lips and cast his eyes
aloft, while the good wine flooded his throat. Then he passed the pottle
to the Cook, who also said, "Lo, I drink thy health, sweet fellow!" Nor
was he behind Little John in drinking any more than in eating.
"Now," quoth Little John, "thy voice is
right round and sweet, jolly lad. I doubt not thou canst sing a ballad
most blithely; canst thou not?"
"Truly, I have trolled one now and
then," quoth the Cook, "yet I would not sing alone."
"Nay, truly," said Little John, "that
were but ill courtesy. Strike up thy ditty, and I will afterward sing
one to match it, if I can.
"So be it, pretty boy," quoth the Cook.
"And hast thou e'er heard the song of the Deserted Shepherdess?"
"Truly, I know not," answered Little
John, "but sing thou and let me hear."
Then the Cook took another draught from
the pottle, and, clearing his throat, sang right sweetly:
THE SONG OF THE DESERTED SHEPHERDESS
"In Lententime, when leaves wax green,
And pretty birds begin to mate,
When lark cloth sing, and thrush, I
And stockdove cooeth soon and late,
Fair Phillis sat beside
And thus I heard her make her moan:
'O willow, willow,
I'll take me of thy branches fair
And twine a
wreath to deck my hair.
" `The thrush hath taken him a she,
The robin, too, and eke the dove;
My Robin hath deserted me,
left me for another love.
So here, by brookside, all alone,
me down and make my moan.
O willow, willow, willow, willow!
take me of thy branches fair
And twine a wreath to deck my hair.'
"But ne'er came herring from the sea,
But good as he were in the tide;
Young Corydon came o'er the lea,
And sat him Phillis down beside.
So, presently, she changed her tone,
And 'gan to cease her from her moan,
'O willow, willow, willow,
Thou mayst e'en keep thy garlands fair,
I want them not to
deck my hair.' "
"Now, by my faith," cried Little John, "that same is
a right good song, and hath truth in it, also."
"Glad am I thou likest it, sweet lad,"
said the Cook. "Now sing thou one also, for ne'er should a man be merry
alone, or sing and list not."
"Then I will sing thee a song of a
right good knight of Arthur's court, and how he cured his heart's wound
without running upon the dart again, as did thy Phillis; for I wot she
did but cure one smart by giving herself another. So, list thou while I
THE GOOD KNIGHT AND HIS LOVE
"When Arthur, King, did rule this land,
A goodly king was he,
And had he of stout knights a band
"Among them all, both great and small,
A good stout knight was there,
A lusty childe, and eke a tall,
That loved a lady fair.
"But nought would she to do with he,
But turned her face away;
So gat he gone to far countrye,
that lady gay.
"There all alone he made his moan,
And eke did sob and sigh,
And weep till it would move a stone,
he was like to die.
"But still his heart did feel the
And eke the dire distress,
And rather grew his pain more
As grew his body less.
"Then gat he back where was good sack
And merry com panye,
And soon did cease to cry `Alack!'
blithe and gay was he.
"From which I hold, and feel full bold
To say, and eke believe,
That gin the belly go not cold
will cease to grieve."
"Now, by my faith," cried the Cook, as he
rattled the pottle against the sideboard, "I like that same song hugely,
and eke the motive of it, which lieth like a sweet kernel in a hazelnut"
"Now thou art a man of shrewd
opinions," quoth Little John, "and I love thee truly as thou wert my
"And I love thee, too. But the day
draweth on, and I have my cooking to do ere our master cometh home; so
let us e'en go and settle this brave fight we have in hand."
"Ay, marry," quoth Little John, "and
that right speedily. Never have I been more laggard in fighting than in
eating and drinking. So come thou straight forth into the passageway,
where there is good room to swing a sword, and I will try to serve
Then they both stepped forth into the
broad passage that led to the Steward's pantry, where each man drew his
sword again and without more ado fell upon the other as though he would
hew his fellow limb from limb. Then their swords clashed upon one
another with great din, and sparks flew from each blow in showers. So
they fought up and down the hall for an hour and more, neither striking
the other a blow, though they strove their best to do so; for both were
skillful at the fence; so nothing came of all their labor. Ever and anon
they rested, panting; then, after getting their wind, at it they would
go again more fiercely than ever. At last Little John cried aloud,
"Hold, good Cook!" whereupon each rested upon his sword, panting.
"Now will I make my vow," quoth Little
John, "thou art the very best swordsman that ever mine eyes beheld.
Truly, I had thought to carve thee ere now."
"And I had thought to do the same by
thee," quoth the Cook, "but I have missed the mark somehow."
"Now I have been thinking within
myself," quoth Little John, "what we are fighting for; but albeit I do
not rightly know."
"Why, no more do I," said the Cook. "I
bear no love for that pursy Steward, but I thought that we had engaged
to fight with one another and that it must be done."
"Now," quoth Little John, "it doth seem
to me that instead of striving to cut one another's throats, it were
better for us to be boon companions. What sayst thou, jolly Cook, wilt
thou go with me to Sherwood Forest and join with Robin Hood's band? Thou
shalt live a merry life within the woodlands, and sevenscore good
companions shalt thou have, one of whom is mine own self. Thou shalt
have three suits of Lincoln green each year, and forty marks in pay."
"Now, thou art a man after mine own
heart!" cried the Cook right heartily, "and, as thou speakest of it,
that is the very service for me. I will go with thee, and that right
gladly. Give me thy palm, sweet fellow, and I will be thine own
companion from henceforth. What may be thy name, lad?"
"Men do call me Little John, good
"How? And art thou indeed Little John,
and Robin Hood's own right-hand man? Many a time and oft I heard of
thee, but never did I hope to set eyes upon thee. And thou art indeed
the famous Little John!" And the Cook seemed lost in amazement, and
looked upon his companion with open eyes.
"I am Little John, indeed, and I will
bring to Robin Hood this day a right stout fellow to join his merry
band. But ere we go, good friend, it seemeth to me to be a vast pity
that, as we have had so much of the Sheriff's food, we should not also
carry off some of his silver plate to Robin Hood, as a present from his
"Ay, marry is it," said the Cook. And
so they began hunting about, and took as much silver as they could lay
hands upon, clapping it into a bag, and when they had filled the sack
they set forth to Sherwood Forest.
Plunging into the woods, they came at
last to the greenwood tree, where they found Robin Hood and threescore
of his merry men lying upon the fresh green grass. When Robin and his
men saw who it was that came, they leaped to their feet. "Now welcome!"
cried Robin Hood. "Now welcome, Little John! For long hath it been since
we have heard from thee, though we all knew that thou hadst joined the
Sheriff's service. And how hast thou fared all these long days?"
"Right merrily have I lived at the Lord
Sheriff's," answered Little John, "and I have come straight thence. See,
good master! I have brought thee his cook, and even his silver plate."
Thereupon he told Robin Hood and his merry men that were there, all that
had befallen him since he had left them to go to the Fair at Nottingham
Town. Then all shouted with laughter, except Robin Hood; but he looked
"Nay, Little John," said he, "thou art
a brave blade and a trusty fellow. I am glad thou hast brought thyself
back to us, and with such a good companion as the Cook, whom we all
welcome to Sherwood. But I like not so well that thou hast stolen the
Sheriff's plate like some paltry thief. The Sheriff hath been punished
by us, and hath lost three hundred pounds, even as he sought to despoil
another; but he hath done nought that we should steal his household
plate from him.
Though Little John was vexed with this,
he strove to pass it off with a jest. "Nay, good master," quoth he, "if
thou thinkest the Sheriff gave us not the plate, I will fetch him, that
he may tell us with his own lips he giveth it all to us." So saying he
leaped to his feet, and was gone before Robin could call him back.
Little John ran for full five miles
till he came to where the Sheriff of Nottingham and a gay company were
hunting near the forest. When Little John came to the Sheriff he doffed
his cap and bent his knee. "God save thee, good master," quoth he.
"Why, Reynold Greenleaf!" cried the
Sheriff, "whence comest thou and where hast thou been?"
"I have been in the forest," answered
Little John, speaking amazedly, "and there I saw a sight such as ne'er
before man's eyes beheld! Yonder I saw a young hart all in green from
top to toe, and about him was a herd of threescore deer, and they, too,
were all of green from head to foot. Yet I dared not shoot, good master,
for fear lest they should slay me."
"Why, how now, Reynold Greenleaf,"
cried the Sheriff, "art thou dreaming or art thou mad, that thou dost
bring me such, a tale?"
"Nay, I am not dreaming nor am I mad,"
said Little John, "and if thou wilt come with me, I will show thee this
fair sight, for I have seen it with mine own eyes. But thou must come
alone, good master, lest the others frighten them and they get away."
So the party all rode forward, and
Little John led them downward into the forest.
"Now, good master," quoth he at last,
"we are nigh where I saw this herd."
Then the Sheriff descended from his
horse and bade them wait for him until he should return; and Little John
led him forward through a close copse until suddenly they came to a
great open glade, at the end of which Robin Hood sat beneath the shade
of the great oak tree, with his merry men all about him. "See, good
Master Sheriff," quoth Little John, "yonder is the hart of which I spake
At this the Sheriff turned to Little
John and said bitterly, "Long ago I thought I remembered thy face, but
now I know thee. Woe betide thee, Little John, for thou hast betrayed me
In the meantime Robin Hood had come to
them. "Now welcome, Master Sheriff," said he. "Hast thou come today to
take another feast with me?"
"Nay, Heaven forbid!" said the Sheriff
in tones of deep earnest. "I care for no feast and have no hunger
"Nevertheless," quoth Robin, "if thou
hast no hunger, maybe thou hast thirst, and well I know thou wilt take a
cup of sack with me. But I am grieved that thou wilt not feast with me,
for thou couldst have victuals to thy liking, for there stands thy
Then he led the Sheriff, willy-nilly,
to the seat he knew so well beneath the greenwood tree.
"Ho, lads!" cried Robin, "fill our good
friend the Sheriff a right brimming cup of sack and fetch it hither, for
he is faint and weary."
Then one of the band brought the
Sheriff a cup of sack, bowing low as he handed it to him; but the
Sheriff could not touch the wine, for he saw it served in one of his own
silver flagons, on one of his own silver plates.
"How now," quoth Robin, "dost thou not
like our new silver service? We have gotten a bag of it this day." So
saying, he held up the sack of silver that Little John and the Cook had
brought with them.
Then the Sheriff's heart was bitter
within him; but, not daring to say anything, he only gazed upon the
ground. Robin looked keenly at him for a time before he spoke again.
Then said he, "Now, Master Sheriff, the last time thou camest to
Sherwood Forest thou didst come seeking to despoil a poor spendthrift,
and thou wert despoiled thine own self; but now thou comest seeking to
do no harm, nor do I know that thou hast despoiled any man. I take my
tithes from fat priests and lordly squires, to help those that they
despoil and to raise up those that they bow down; but I know not that
thou hast tenants of thine own whom thou hast wronged in any way.
Therefore, take thou thine own again, nor will I dispossess thee today
of so much as one farthing. Come with me, and I will lead thee from the
forest back to thine own party again."
Then, slinging the bag upon his
shoulder, he turned away, the Sheriff following him, all too perplexed
in mind to speak. So they went forward until they came to within a
furlong of the spot where the Sheriff's companions were waiting for him.
Then Robin Hood gave the sack of silver back to the Sheriff. "Take thou
thine own again," he said, "and hearken to me, good Sheriff, take thou a
piece of advice with it. Try thy servants well ere thou dost engage them
again so readily." Then, turning, he left the other standing bewildered,
with the sack in his hands.
The company that waited for the Sheriff
were all amazed to see him come out of the forest bearing a heavy sack
upon his shoulders; but though they questioned him, he answered never a
word, acting like one who walks in a dream. Without a word, he placed
the bag across his nag's back and then, mounting, rode away, all
following him; but all the time there was a great turmoil of thoughts
within his head, tumbling one over the other. And thus ends the merry
tale of Little John and how he entered the Sheriff's service.
VIII. Little John
and the Tanner of Blyth
One fine day, not long after Little John had left abiding with the
Sheriff and had come back, with his worship's cook, to the merry
greenwood, as has just been told, Robin Hood and a few chosen fellows of
his band lay upon the soft sward beneath the greenwood tree where they
dwelled. The day was warm and sultry, so that while most of the band
were scattered through the forest upon this mission and upon that, these
few stout fellows lay lazily beneath the shade of the tree, in the soft
afternoon, passing jests among themselves and telling merry stories,
with laughter and mirth.
All the air was laden with the bitter
fragrance of the May, and all the bosky shades of the woodlands beyond
rang with the sweet song of birds--the throstle cock, the cuckoo, and
the wood pigeon-- and with the song of birds mingled the cool sound of
the gurgling brook that leaped out of the forest shades, and ran
fretting amid its rough, gray stones across the sunlit open glade before
the trysting tree. And a fair sight was that halfscore of tall, stout
yeomen, all clad in Lincoln green, lying beneath the broad-spreading
branches of the great oak tree, amid the quivering leaves of which the
sunlight shivered and fell in dancing patches upon the grass.
Suddenly Robin Hood smote his knee.
"By Saint Dunstan," quoth he, "I had
nigh forgot that quarter-day cometh on apace, and yet no cloth of
Lincoln green in all our store. It must be looked to, and that in quick
season. Come, busk thee, Little John! Stir those lazy bones of thine,
for thou must get thee straightway to our good gossip, the draper Hugh
Longshanks of Ancaster. Bid him send us straightway twentyscore yards of
fair cloth of Lincoln green; and mayhap the journey may take some of the
fat from off thy bones, that thou hast gotten from lazy living at our
"Nay," muttered Little John (for he had
heard so much upon this score that he was sore upon the point), "nay,
truly, mayhap I have more flesh upon my joints than I once had, yet,
flesh or no flesh, I doubt not that I could still hold my place and
footing upon a narrow bridge against e'er a yeoman in Sherwood, or
Nottinghamshire, for the matter of that, even though he had no more fat
about his bones than thou hast, good master."
At this reply a great shout of laughter
went up, and all looked at Robin Hood, for each man knew that Little
John spake of a certain fight that happened between their master and
himself, through which they first became acquainted.
"Nay," quoth Robin Hood, laughing
louder than all. "Heaven forbid that I should doubt thee, for I care for
no taste of thy staff myself, Little John. I must needs own that there
are those of my band can handle a seven-foot staff more deftly than I;
yet no man in all Nottinghamshire can draw gray goose shaft with my
fingers. Nevertheless, a journey to Ancaster may not be ill for thee; so
go thou, as I bid, and thou hadst best go this very evening, for since
thou hast abided at the Sheriff's many know thy face, and if thou goest
in broad daylight, thou mayst get thyself into a coil with some of his
worship's men-at-arms. Bide thou here till I bring thee money to pay our
good Hugh. I warrant he hath no better customers in all Nottinghamshire
than we." So saying, Robin left them and entered the forest.
Not far from the trysting tree was a
great rock in which a chamber had been hewn, the entrance being barred
by a massive oaken door two palms'-breadth in thickness, studded about
with spikes, and fastened with a great padlock. This was the treasure
house of the band, and thither Robin Hood went and, unlocking the door,
entered the chamber, from which he brought forth a bag of gold which he
gave to Little John, to pay Hugh Longshanks withal, for the cloth of
Then up got Little John, and, taking
the bag of gold, which he thrust into his bosom, he strapped a girdle
about his loins, took a stout pikestaff full seven feet long in his
hand, and set forth upon his journey.
So he strode whistling along the leafy
forest path that led to Fosse Way, turning neither to the right hand nor
the left, until at last he came to where the path branched, leading on
the one hand onward to Fosse Way, and on the other, as well Little John
knew, to the merry Blue Boar Inn. Here Little John suddenly ceased
whistling and stopped in the middle of the path. First he looked up and
then he looked down, and then, tilting his cap over one eye, he slowly
scratched the back part of his head. For thus it was: at the sight of
these two roads, two voices began to alarum within him, the one crying,
"There lies the road to the Blue Boar Inn, a can of brown October, and a
merry night with sweet companions such as thou mayst find there"; the
other, "There lies the way to Ancaster and the duty thou art sent upon."
Now the first of these two voices was far the louder, for Little John
had grown passing fond of good living through abiding at the Sheriff's
house; so, presently, looking up into the blue sky, across which bright
clouds were sailing like silver boats, and swallows skimming in circling
flight, quoth he, "I fear me it will rain this evening, so I'll e'en
stop at the Blue Boar till it passes by, for I know my good master would
not have me wet to the skin." So, without more ado, off he strode down
the path that lay the way of his likings. Now there was no sign of any
foul weather, but when one wishes to do a thing, as Little John did, one
finds no lack of reasons for the doing.
Four merry wags were at the Blue Boar
Inn; a butcher, a beggar, and two barefoot friars. Little John heard
them singing from afar, as he walked through the hush of the mellow
twilight that was now falling over hill and dale. Right glad were they
to welcome such a merry blade as Little John. Fresh cans of ale were
brought, and with jest and song and merry tales the hours slipped away
on fleeting wings. None thought of time or tide till the night was so
far gone that Little John put by the thought of setting forth upon his
journey again that night, and so bided at the Blue Boar Inn until the
Now it was an ill piece of luck for
Little John that he left his duty for his pleasure, and he paid a great
score for it, as we are all apt to do in the same case, as you shall
Up he rose at the dawn of the next day,
and, taking his stout pikestaff in his hand, he set forth upon his
journey once more, as though he would make up for lost time.
In the good town of Blyth there lived a
stout tanner, celebrated far and near for feats of strength and many
tough bouts at wrestling and the quarterstaff. For five years he had
held the mid-country champion belt for wrestling, till the great Adam o'
Lincoln cast him in the ring and broke one of his ribs; but at
quarterstaff he had never yet met his match in all the country about.
Besides all this, he dearly loved the longbow, and a sly jaunt in the
forest when the moon was full and the dun deer in season; so that the
King's rangers kept a shrewd eye upon him and his doings, for Arthur a
Bland's house was apt to have aplenty of meat in it that was more like
venison than the law allowed.
Now Arthur had been to Nottingham Town
the day before Little John set forth on his errand, there to sell a
halfscore of tanned cowhides. At the dawn of the same day that Little
John left the inn, he started from Nottingham, homeward for Blyth. His
way led, all in the dewy morn, past the verge of Sherwood Forest, where
the birds were welcoming the lovely day with a great and merry jubilee.
Across the Tanner's shoulders was slung his stout quarterstaff, ever
near enough to him to be gripped quickly, and on his head was a cap of
doubled cowhide, so tough that it could hardly be cloven even by a
"Now," quoth Arthur a Bland to himself,
when he had come to that part of the road that cut through a corner of
the forest, "no doubt at this time of year the dun deer are coming from
the forest depths nigher to the open meadow lands. Mayhap I may chance
to catch a sight of the dainty brown darlings thus early in the morn."
For there was nothing he loved better than to look upon a tripping herd
of deer, even when he could not tickle their ribs with a clothyard
shaft. Accordingly, quitting the path, he went peeping this way and that
through the underbrush, spying now here and now there, with all the
wiles of a master of woodcraft, and of one who had more than once donned
a doublet of Lincoln green.
Now as Little John stepped blithely
along, thinking of nothing but of such things as the sweetness of the
hawthorn buds that bedecked the hedgerows, or gazing upward at the lark,
that, springing from the dewy grass, hung aloft on quivering wings in
the yellow sunlight, pouring forth its song that fell like a falling
star from the sky, his luck led him away from the highway, not far from
the spot where Arthur a Bland was peeping this way and that through the
leaves of the thickets. Hearing a rustling of the branches, Little John
stopped and presently caught sight of the brown cowhide cap of the
Tanner moving among the bushes
"I do much wonder," quoth Little John
to himself, "what yon knave is after, that he should go thus peeping and
peering about I verily believe that yon scurvy varlet is no better than
a thief, and cometh here after our own and the good King's dun deer."
For by much roving in the forest, Little John had come to look upon all
the deer in Sherwood as belonging to Robin Hood and his band as much as
to good King Harry. "Nay," quoth he again, after a time, "this matter
must e'en be looked into." So, quitting the highroad, he also entered
the thickets, and began spying around after stout Arthur a Bland.
So for a long time they both of them
went hunting about, Little John after the Tanner, and the Tanner after
the deer. At last Little John trod upon a stick, which snapped under his
foot, whereupon, hearing the noise, the Tanner turned quickly and caught
sight of the yeoman. Seeing that the Tanner had spied him out, Little
John put a bold face upon the matter.
"Hilloa," quoth he, "what art thou
doing here, thou naughty fellow? Who art thou that comest ranging
Sherwood's paths? In very sooth thou hast an evil cast of countenance,
and I do think, truly, that thou art no better than a thief, and comest
after our good King's deer."
"Nay," quoth the Tanner boldly--for,
though taken by surprise, he was not a man to be frightened by big
words--"thou liest in thy teeth. I am no thief, but an honest craftsman.
As for my countenance, it is what it is; and, for the matter of that,
thine own is none too pretty, thou saucy fellow."
"Ha!" quoth Little John in a great loud
voice, "wouldst thou give me backtalk? Now I have a great part of a mind
to crack thy pate for thee. I would have thee know, fellow, that I am,
as it were, one of the King's foresters. Leastwise," muttered he to
himself, "I and my friends do take good care of our good sovereign's
"I care not who thou art," answered the
bold Tanner, "and unless thou hast many more of thy kind by thee, thou
canst never make Arthur a Bland cry `A mercy.' "
"Is it so?" cried Little John in a
rage. "Now, by my faith, thou saucy rogue, thy tongue hath led thee into
a pit thou wilt have a sorry time getting out of; for I will give thee
such a drubbing as ne'er hast thou had in all thy life before. Take thy
staff in thy hand, fellow, for I will not smite an unarmed man.
"Marry come up with a murrain!" cried
the Tanner, for he, too, had talked himself into a fume. "Big words
ne'er killed so much as a mouse. Who art thou that talkest so freely of
cracking the head of Arthur a Bland? If I do not tan thy hide this day
as ne'er I tanned a calf's hide in all my life before, split my staff
into skewers for lamb's flesh and call me no more brave man! Now look to
"Stay!" said Little John. "Let us first
measure our cudgels. I do reckon my staff longer than thine, and I would
not take vantage of thee by even so much as an inch."
"Nay, I pass not for length," answered
the Tanner. "My staff is long enough to knock down a calf; so look to
thyself, fellow, I say again."
So, without more ado, each gripped his
staff in the middle, and, with fell and angry looks, they came slowly
Now news had been brought to Robin Hood
how that Little John, instead of doing his bidding, had passed by duty
for pleasure, and so had stopped overnight with merry company at the
Blue Boar Inn, instead of going straight to Ancaster. So, being vexed to
his heart by this, he set forth at dawn of day to seek Little John at
the Blue Boar, or at least to meet the yeoman on the way, and ease his
heart of what he thought of the matter. As thus he strode along in
anger, putting together the words he would use to chide Little John, he
heard, of a sudden, loud and angry voices, as of men in a rage, passing
fell words back and forth from one to the other. At this, Robin Hood
stopped and listened. "Surely," quoth he to himself, "that is Little
John's voice, and he is talking in anger also. Methinks the other is
strange to my ears. Now Heaven forfend that my good trusty Little John
should have fallen into the hands of the King's rangers. I must see to
this matter, and that quickly."
Thus spoke Robin Hood to himself, all
his anger passing away like a breath from the windowpane, at the thought
that perhaps his trusty right-hand man was in some danger of his life.
So cautiously he made his way through the thickets whence the voices
came, and, pushing aside the leaves, peeped into the little open space
where the two men, staff in hand, were coming slowly together.
"Ha!" quoth Robin to himself, "here is
merry sport afoot. Now I would give three golden angels from my own
pocket if yon stout fellow would give Little John a right sound
drubbing! It would please me to see him well thumped for having failed
in my bidding. I fear me, though, there is but poor chance of my seeing
such a pleasant sight." So saying, he stretched himself at length upon
the ground, that he might not only see the sport the better, but that he
might enjoy the merry sight at his ease.
As you may have seen two dogs that
think to fight, walking slowly round and round each other, neither cur
wishing to begin the combat, so those two stout yeomen moved slowly
around, each watching for a chance to take the other unaware, and so get
in the first blow. At last Little John struck like a flash,
and--"rap!"--the Tanner met the blow and turned it aside, and then smote
back at Little John, who also turned the blow; and so this mighty battle
began. Then up and down and back and forth they trod, the blows falling
so thick and fast that, at a distance, one would have thought that half
a score of men were fighting. Thus they fought for nigh a half an hour,
until the ground was all plowed up with the digging of their heels, and
their breathing grew labored like the ox in the furrow. But Little John
suffered the most, for he had become unused to such stiff labor, and his
joints were not as supple as they had been before he went to dwell with
All this time Robin Hood lay beneath
the bush, rejoicing at such a comely bout of quarterstaff. "By my
faith!" quoth he to himself, "never had I thought to see Little John so
evenly matched in all my life. Belike, though, he would have overcome
yon fellow before this had he been in his former trim."
At last Little John saw his chance,
and, throwing all the strength he felt going from him into one blow that
might have felled an ox, he struck at the Tanner with might and main.
And now did the Tanner's cowhide cap stand him in good stead, and but
for it he might never have held staff in hand again. As it was, the blow
he caught beside the head was so shrewd that it sent him staggering
across the little glade, so that, if Little John had had the strength to
follow up his vantage, it would have been ill for stout Arthur. But he
regained himself quickly and, at arm's length, struck back a blow at
Little John, and this time the stroke reached its mark, and down went
Little John at full length, his cudgel flying from his hand as he fell.
Then, raising his staff, stout Arthur dealt him another blow upon the
"Hold!" roared Little John. "Wouldst
thou strike a man when he is down?"
"Ay, marry would I," quoth the Tanner,
giving him another thwack with his staff.
"Stop!" roared Little John. "Help!
Hold, I say! I yield me! I yield me, I say, good fellow!"
"Hast thou had enough?" asked the
Tanner grimly, holding his staff aloft.
"Ay, marry, and more than enough."
"And thou dost own that I am the better
man of the two?"
"Yea, truly, and a murrain seize thee!"
said Little John, the first aloud and the last to his beard.
"Then thou mayst go thy ways; and thank
thy patron saint that I am a merciful man," said the Tanner.
"A plague o' such mercy as thine!" said
Little John, sitting up and feeling his ribs where the Tanner had
cudgeled him. "I make my vow, my ribs feel as though every one of them
were broken in twain. I tell thee, good fellow, I did think there was
never a man in all Nottinghamshire could do to me what thou hast done
"And so thought I, also," cried Robin
Hood, bursting out of the thicket and shouting with laughter till the
tears ran down his cheeks. "O man, man!" said he, as well as he could
for his mirth, " 'a didst go over like a bottle knocked from a wall. I
did see the whole merry bout, and never did I think to see thee yield
thyself so, hand and foot, to any man in all merry England. I was
seeking thee, to chide thee for leaving my bidding undone; but thou hast
been paid all I owed thee, full measure, pressed down and overflowing,
by this good fellow. Marry, 'a did reach out his arm full length while
thou stood gaping at him, and, with a pretty rap, tumbled thee over as
never have I seen one tumbled before." So spoke bold Robin, and all the
time Little John sat upon the ground, looking as though he had sour
curds in his mouth. "What may be thy name, good fellow?" said Robin,
next, turning to the Tanner.
"Men do call me Arthur a Bland," spoke
up the Tanner boldly, "and now what may be thy name?"
"Ha, Arthur a Bland!" quoth Robin, "I
have heard thy name before, good fellow. Thou didst break the crown of a
friend of mine at the fair at Ely last October. The folk there call him
Jock o' Nottingham; we call him Will Scathelock. This poor fellow whom
thou hast so belabored is counted the best hand at the quarterstaff in
all merry England. His name is Little John, and mine Robin Hood."
"How!" cried the Tanner, "art thou
indeed the great Robin Hood, and is this the famous Little John? Marry,
had I known who thou art, I would never have been so bold as to lift my
hand against thee. Let me help thee to thy feet, good Master Little
John, and let me brush the dust from off thy coat."
"Nay," quoth Little John testily, at
the same time rising carefully, as though his bones had been made of
glass, "I can help myself, good fellow, without thy aid; and let me tell
thee, had it not been for that vile cowskin cap of thine, it would have
been ill for thee this day."
At this Robin laughed again, and,
turning to the Tanner, he said, "Wilt thou join my band, good Arthur?
For I make my vow thou art one of the stoutest men that ever mine eyes
"Will I join thy band?" cried the
Tanner joyfully. "Ay, marry, will I! Hey for a merry life!" cried he,
leaping aloft and snapping his fingers, "and hey for the life I love!
Away with tanbark and filthy vats and foul cowhides! I will follow thee
to the ends of the earth, good master, and not a herd of dun deer in all
the forest but shall know the sound of the twang of my bowstring."
"As for thee, Little John," said Robin,
turning to him and laughing, "thou wilt start once more for Ancaster,
and we will go part way with thee, for I will not have thee turn again
to either the right hand or the left till thou hast fairly gotten away
from Sherwood. There are other inns that thou knowest yet, hereabouts."
Thereupon, leaving the thickets, they took once more to the highway and
departed upon their business.
IX. Robin Hood
and Will Scarlet
they traveled along the sunny road, three stout fellows such as you
could hardly match anywhere else in all merry England. Many stopped to
gaze after them as they strode along, so broad were their shoulders and
so sturdy their gait.
Quoth Robin Hood to Little John, "Why
didst thou not go straight to Ancaster, yesterday, as I told thee? Thou
hadst not gotten thyself into such a coil hadst thou done as I ordered."
"I feared the rain that threatened,"
said Little John in a sullen tone, for he was vexed at being so chaffed
by Robin with what had happened to him.
"The rain!" cried Robin, stopping of a
sudden in the middle of the road, and looking at Little John in wonder.
"Why, thou great oaf! not a drop of rain has fallen these three days,
neither has any threatened, nor hath there been a sign of foul weather
in earth or sky or water."
"Nevertheless," growled Little John,
"the holy Saint Swithin holdeth the waters of the heavens in his pewter
pot, and he could have poured them out, had he chosen, even from a clear
sky; and wouldst thou have had me wet to the skin?"
At this Robin Hood burst into a roar of
laughter. "O Little John!" said he, "what butter wits hast thou in that
head of thine! Who could hold anger against such a one as thou art?"
So saying, they all stepped out once
more, with the right foot foremost, as the saying is.
After they had traveled some distance,
the day being warm and the road dusty, Robin Hood waxed thirsty; so,
there being a fountain of water as cold as ice, just behind the
hedgerow, they crossed the stile and came to where the water bubbled up
from beneath a mossy stone. Here, kneeling and making cups of the palms
of their hands, they drank their fill, and then, the spot being cool and
shady, they stretched their limbs and rested them for a space.
In front of them, over beyond the
hedge, the dusty road stretched away across the plain; behind them the
meadow lands and bright green fields of tender young corn lay broadly in
the sun, and overhead spread the shade of the cool, rustling leaves of
the beechen tree. Pleasantly to their nostrils came the tender fragrance
of the purple violets and wild thyme that grew within the dewy moisture
of the edge of the little fountain, and pleasantly came the soft gurgle
of the water. All was so pleasant and so full of the gentle joy of the
bright Maytime, that for a long time no one of the three cared to speak,
but each lay on his back, gazing up through the trembling leaves of the
trees to the bright sky overhead. At last, Robin, whose thoughts were
not quite so busy wool-gathering as those of the others, and who had
been gazing around him now and then, broke the silence.
"Heyday!" quoth he, "yon is a gaily
feathered bird, I take my vow."
The others looked and saw a young man
walking slowly down the highway. Gay was he, indeed, as Robin had said,
and a fine figure he cut, for his doublet was of scarlet silk and his
stockings also; a handsome sword hung by his side, the embossed leathern
scabbard being picked out with fine threads of gold; his cap was of
scarlet velvet, and a broad feather hung down behind and back of one
ear. His hair was long and yellow and curled upon his shoulders, and in
his hand he bore an early rose, which he smelled at daintily now and
"By my life!" quoth Robin Hood,
laughing, "saw ye e'er such a pretty, mincing fellow?"
"Truly, his clothes have overmuch
prettiness for my taste," quoth Arthur a Bland, "but, ne'ertheless, his
shoulders are broad and his loins are narrow, and seest thou, good
master, how that his arms hang from his body? They dangle not down like
spindles, but hang stiff and bend at the elbow. I take my vow, there be
no bread and milk limbs in those fine clothes, but stiff joints and
"Methinks thou art right, friend
Arthur," said Little John. "I do verily think that yon is no such
roseleaf and whipped-cream gallant as he would have one take him to be."
"Pah!" quoth Robin Hood, "the sight of
such a fellow doth put a nasty taste into my mouth! Look how he doth
hold that fair flower betwixt his thumb and finger, as he would say,
`Good rose, I like thee not so ill but I can bear thy odor for a little
while.' I take it ye are both wrong, and verily believe that were a
furious mouse to run across his path, he would cry, `La!' or
`Alack-a-day!' and fall straightway into a swoon. I wonder who he may
"Some great baron's son, I doubt not,"
answered Little John, "with good and true men's money lining his purse."
"Ay, marry, that is true, I make no
doubt," quoth Robin. "What a pity that such men as he, that have no
thought but to go abroad in gay clothes, should have good fellows, whose
shoes they are not fit to tie, dancing at their bidding. By Saint
Dunstan, Saint Alfred, Saint Withold, and all the good men in the Saxon
calendar, it doth make me mad to see such gay lordlings from over the
sea go stepping on the necks of good Saxons who owned this land before
ever their great-grandsires chewed rind of brawn! By the bright bow of
Heaven, I will have their ill-gotten gains from them, even though I hang
for it as high as e'er a forest tree in Sherwood!"
"Why, how now, master," quoth Little
John, "what heat is this? Thou dost set thy pot a-boiling, and mayhap no
bacon to cook! Methinks yon fellow's hair is overlight for Norman locks.
He may be a good man and true for aught thou knowest."
"Nay," said Robin, "my head against a
leaden farthing, he is what I say. So, lie ye both here, I say, till I
show you how I drub this fellow." So saying, Robin Hood stepped forth
from the shade of the beech tree, crossed the stile, and stood in the
middle of the road, with his hands on his hips, in the stranger's path.
Meantime the stranger, who had been
walking so slowly that all this talk was held before he came opposite
the place where they were, neither quickened his pace nor seemed to see
that such a man as Robin Hood was in the world. So Robin stood in the
middle of the road, waiting while the other walked slowly forward,
smelling his rose, and looking this way and that, and everywhere except
"Hold!" cried Robin, when at last the
other had come close to him. "Hold! Stand where thou art!"
"Wherefore should I hold, good fellow?"
said the stranger in soft and gentle voice. "And wherefore should I
stand where I am? Ne'ertheless, as thou dost desire that I should stay,
I will abide for a short time, that I may hear what thou mayst have to
say to me."
"Then," quoth Robin, "as thou dost so
fairly do as I tell thee, and dost give me such soft speech, I will also
treat thee with all due courtesy. I would have thee know, fair friend,
that I am, as it were, a votary at the shrine of Saint Wilfred who, thou
mayst know, took, willy-nilly, all their gold from the heathen, and
melted it up into candlesticks. Wherefore, upon such as come hereabouts,
I levy a certain toll, which I use for a better purpose, I hope, than to
make candlesticks withal. Therefore, sweet chuck, I would have thee
deliver to me thy purse, that I may look into it, and judge, to the best
of my poor powers, whether thou hast more wealth about thee than our law
allows. For, as our good Gaffer Swanthold sayeth, `He who is fat from
overliving must needs lose blood.' "
All this time the youth had been
sniffing at the rose that he held betwixt his thumb and finger. "Nay,"
said he with a gentle smile, when Robin Hood had done, "I do love to
hear thee talk, thou pretty fellow, and if, haply, thou art not yet
done, finish, I beseech thee. I have yet some little time to stay."
"I have said all," quoth Robin, "and
now, if thou wilt give me thy purse, I will let thee go thy way without
let or hindrance so soon as I shall see what it may hold. I will take
none from thee if thou hast but little."
"Alas! It doth grieve me much," said
the other, "that I cannot do as thou dost wish. I have nothing to give
thee. Let me go my way, I prythee. I have done thee no harm."
"Nay, thou goest not," quoth Robin,
"till thou hast shown me thy purse."
"Good friend," said the other gently,
"I have business elsewhere. I have given thee much time and have heard
thee patiently. Prythee, let me depart in peace."
"I have spoken to thee, friend," said
Robin sternly, "and I now tell thee again, that thou goest not one step
forward till thou hast done as I bid thee." So saying, he raised his
quarterstaff above his head in a threatening way.
"Alas!" said the stranger sadly, "it
doth grieve me that this thing must be. I fear much that I must slay
thee, thou poor fellow!" So saying, he drew his sword.
"Put by thy weapon," quoth Robin. "I
would take no vantage of thee. Thy sword cannot stand against an oaken
staff such as mine. I could snap it like a barley straw. Yonder is a
good oaken thicket by the roadside; take thee a cudgel thence and defend
thyself fairly, if thou hast a taste for a sound drubbing."
First the stranger measured Robin with
his eye, and then he measured the oaken staff. "Thou art right, good
fellow," said he presently, "truly, my sword is no match for that cudgel
of thine. Bide thee awhile till I get me a staff." So saying, he threw
aside the rose that he had been holding all this time, thrust his sword
back into the scabbard, and, with a more hasty step than he had yet
used, stepped to the roadside where grew the little clump of ground oaks
Robin had spoken of. Choosing among them, he presently found a sapling
to his liking. He did not cut it, but, rolling up his sleeves a little
way, he laid hold of it, placed his heel against the ground, and, with
one mighty pull, plucked the young tree up by the roots from out the
very earth. Then he came back, trimming away the roots and tender stems
with his sword as quietly as if he had done nought to speak of.
Little John and the Tanner had been
watching all that passed, but when they saw the stranger drag the
sapling up from the earth, and heard the rending and snapping of its
roots, the Tanner pursed his lips together, drawing his breath between
them in a long inward whistle.
"By the breath of my body!" said Little
John, as soon as he could gather his wits from their wonder, "sawest
thou that, Arthur? Marry, I think our poor master will stand but an ill
chance with yon fellow. By Our Lady, he plucked up yon green tree as it
were a barley straw."
Whatever Robin Hood thought, he stood
his ground, and now he and the stranger in scarlet stood face to face.
Well did Robin Hood hold his own that
day as a mid-country yeoman. This way and that they fought, and back and
forth, Robin's skill against the stranger's strength. The dust of the
highway rose up around them like a cloud, so that at times Little John
and the Tanner could see nothing, but only hear the rattle of the staves
against one another. Thrice Robin Hood struck the stranger; once upon
the arm and twice upon the ribs, and yet had he warded all the other's
blows, only one of which, had it met its mark, would have laid stout
Robin lower in the dust than he had ever gone before. At last the
stranger struck Robin's cudgel so fairly in the middle that he could
hardly hold his staff in his hand; again he struck, and Robin bent
beneath the blow; a third time he struck, and now not only fairly beat
down Robin's guard, but gave him such a rap, also, that down he tumbled
into the dusty road.
"Hold!" cried Robin Hood, when he saw
the stranger raising his staff once more. "I yield me!"
"Hold!" cried Little John, bursting
from his cover, with the Tanner at his heels. "Hold! give over, I say!"
"Nay," answered the stranger quietly,
"if there be two more of you, and each as stout as this good fellow, I
am like to have my hands full. Nevertheless, come on, and I will strive
my best to serve you all."
"Stop!" cried Robin Hood, "we will
fight no more. I take my vow, this is an ill day for thee and me, Little
John. I do verily believe that my wrist, and eke my arm, are palsied by
the jar of the blow that this stranger struck me."
Then Little John turned to Robin Hood.
"Why, how now, good master," said he. "Alas! Thou art in an ill plight.
Marry, thy jerkin is all befouled with the dust of the road. Let me help
thee to arise."
"A plague on thy aid!" cried Robin
angrily. "I can get to my feet without thy help, good fellow."
"Nay, but let me at least dust thy coat
for thee. I fear thy poor bones are mightily sore," quoth Little John
soberly, but with a sly twinkle in his eyes.
"Give over, I say!" quoth Robin in a
fume. "My coat hath been dusted enough already, without aid of thine."
Then, turning to the stranger, he said, "What may be thy name, good
"My name is Gamwell," answered the
"Ha!" cried Robin, "is it even so? I
have near kin of that name. Whence camest thou, fair friend?"
"From Maxfield Town I come," answered
the stranger. "There was I born and bred, and thence I come to seek my
mother's young brother, whom men call Robin Hood. So, if perchance thou
mayst direct me--"
"Ha! Will Gamwell!" cried Robin,
placing both hands upon the other's shoulders and holding him off at
arm's length. "Surely, it can be none other! I might have known thee by
that pretty maiden air of thine--that dainty, finicking manner of gait.
Dost thou not know me, lad? Look upon me well."
"Now, by the breath of my body!" cried
the other, "I do believe from my heart that thou art mine own Uncle
Robin. Nay, certain it is so!" And each flung his arms around the other,
kissing him upon the cheek.
Then once more Robin held his kinsman
off at arm's length and scanned him keenly from top to toe. "Why, how
now," quoth he, "what change is here? Verily, some eight or ten years
ago I left thee a stripling lad, with great joints and ill-hung limbs,
and lo! here thou art, as tight a fellow as e'er I set mine eyes upon.
Dost thou not remember, lad, how I showed thee the proper way to nip the
goose feather betwixt thy fingers and throw out thy bow arm steadily?
Thou gayest great promise of being a keen archer. And dost thou not mind
how I taught thee to fend and parry with the cudgel?"
"Yea," said young Gamwell, "and I did
so look up to thee, and thought thee so above all other men that, I make
my vow, had I known who thou wert, I would never have dared to lift hand
against thee this day. I trust I did thee no great harm."
"No, no," quoth Robin hastily, and
looking sideways at Little John, "thou didst not harm me. But say no
more of that, I prythee. Yet I will say, lad, that I hope I may never
feel again such a blow as thou didst give me. By'r Lady, my arm doth
tingle yet from fingernail to elbow. Truly, I thought that I was palsied
for life. I tell thee, coz, that thou art the strongest man that ever I
laid mine eyes upon. I take my vow, I felt my stomach quake when I
beheld thee pluck up yon green tree as thou didst. But tell me, how
camest thou to leave Sir Edward and thy mother?"
"Alas!" answered young Gamwell, "it is
an ill story, uncle, that I have to tell thee. My father's steward, who
came to us after old Giles Crookleg died, was ever a saucy varlet, and I
know not why my father kept him, saving that he did oversee with great
judgment. It used to gall me to hear him speak up so boldly to my
father, who, thou knowest, was ever a patient man to those about him,
and slow to anger and harsh words. Well, one day--and an ill day it was
for that saucy fellow--he sought to berate my father, I standing by. I
could stand it no longer, good uncle, so, stepping forth, I gave him a
box o' the ear, and--wouldst thou believe it?--the fellow straightway
died o't. I think they said I broke his neck, or something o' the like.
So off they packed me to seek thee and escape the law. I was on my way
when thou sawest me, and here I am."
"Well, by the faith of my heart," quoth
Robin Hood, "for anyone escaping the law, thou wast taking it the most
easily that ever I beheld in all my life. Whenever did anyone in all the
world see one who had slain a man, and was escaping because of it,
tripping along the highway like a dainty court damsel, sniffing at a
rose the while?"
"Nay, uncle," answered Will Gamwell,
"overhaste never churned good butter, as the old saying hath it.
Moreover, I do verily believe that this overstrength of my body hath
taken the nimbleness out of my heels. Why, thou didst but just now rap
me thrice, and I thee never a once, save by overbearing thee by my
"Nay," quoth Robin, "let us say no more
on that score. I am right glad to see thee, Will, and thou wilt add
great honor and credit to my band of merry fellows. But thou must change
thy name, for warrants will be out presently against thee; so, because
of thy gay clothes, thou shalt henceforth and for aye be called Will
"Will Scarlet," quoth Little John,
stepping forward and reaching out his great palm, which the other took,
"Will Scarlet, the name fitteth thee well. Right glad am I to welcome
thee among us. I am called Little John; and this is a new member who has
just joined us, a stout tanner named Arthur a Bland. Thou art like to
achieve fame, Will, let me tell thee, for there will be many a merry
ballad sung about the country, and many a merry story told in Sherwood
of how Robin Hood taught Little John and Arthur a Bland the proper way
to use the quarterstaff; likewise, as it were, how our good master bit
off so large a piece of cake that he choked on it."
"Nay, good Little John," quoth Robin
gently, for he liked ill to have such a jest told of him. "Why should we
speak of this little matter? Prythee, let us keep this day's doings
"With all my heart," quoth Little John.
"But, good master, I thought that thou didst love a merry story, because
thou hast so often made a jest about a certain increase of fatness on my
joints, of flesh gathered by my abiding with the Sheriff of--"
"Nay, good Little John," said Robin
hastily, "I do bethink me I have said full enough on that score."
"It is well," quoth Little John, "for
in truth I myself have tired of it somewhat. But now I bethink me, thou
didst also seem minded to make a jest of the rain that threatened last
"Nay, then," said Robin Hood testily,
"I was mistaken. I remember me now it did seem to threaten rain."
"Truly, I did think so myself," quoth
Little John, "therefore, no doubt, thou dost think it was wise of me to
abide all night at the Blue Boar Inn, instead of venturing forth in such
stormy weather; dost thou not?"
"A plague of thee and thy doings!"
cried Robin Hood. "If thou wilt have it so, thou wert right to abide
wherever thou didst choose."
"Once more, it is well," quoth Little
John. "As for myself, I have been blind this day. I did not see thee
drubbed; I did not see thee tumbled heels over head in the dust; and if
any man says that thou wert, I can with a clear conscience rattle his
lying tongue betwixt his teeth."
"Come," cried Robin, biting his nether
lip, while the others could not forbear laughing. "We will go no farther
today, but will return to Sherwood, and thou shalt go to Ancaster
another time, Little John."
So said Robin, for now that his bones
were sore, he felt as though a long journey would be an ill thing for
him. So, turning their backs, they retraced their steps whence they
X. The Adventure
with Midge the Miller's Son
When the four yeomen had traveled for a long time toward Sherwood
again, high noontide being past, they began to wax hungry. Quoth Robin
Hood, "I would that I had somewhat to eat. Methinks a good loaf of white
bread, with a piece of snow-white cheese, washed down with a draught of
humming ale, were a feast for a king."
"Since thou speakest of it," said Will
Scarlet, "methinks it would not be amiss myself. There is that within me
crieth out, `Victuals, good friend, victuals!' "
"I know a house near by," said Arthur a
Bland, "and, had I but the money, I would bring ye that ye speak of; to
wit, a sweet loaf of bread, a fair cheese, and a skin of brown ale."
"For the matter of that, thou knowest I
have money by me, good master," quoth Little John.
"Why, so thou hast, Little John," said
Robin. "How much money will it take, good Arthur, to buy us meat and
"I think that six broad pennies will
buy food enow for a dozen men," said the Tanner.
"Then give him six pennies, Little
John," quoth Robin, "for methinks food for three men will about fit my
need. Now get thee gone, Arthur, with the money, and bring the food
here, for there is a sweet shade in that thicket yonder, beside the
road, and there will we eat our meal."
So Little John gave Arthur the money,
and the others stepped to the thicket, there to await the return of the
After a time he came back, bearing with
him a great brown loaf of bread, and a fair, round cheese, and a
goatskin full of stout March beer, slung over his shoulders. Then Will
Scarlet took his sword and divided the loaf and the cheese into four
fair portions, and each man helped himself. Then Robin Hood took a deep
pull at the beer. "Aha!" said he, drawing in his breath, "never have I
tasted sweeter drink than this."
After this no man spake more, but each
munched away at his bread and cheese lustily, with ever and anon a pull
at the beer.
At last Will Scarlet looked at a small
piece of bread he still held in his hand, and quoth he, "Methinks I will
give this to the sparrows." So, throwing it from him, he brushed the
crumbs from his jerkin.
"I, too," quoth Robin, "have had
enough, I think." As for Little John and the Tanner, they had by this
time eaten every crumb of their bread and cheese.
"Now," quoth Robin, "I do feel myself
another man, and would fain enjoy something pleasant before going
farther upon our journey. I do bethink me, Will, that thou didst use to
have a pretty voice, and one that tuned sweetly upon a song. Prythee,
give us one ere we journey farther."
"Truly, I do not mind turning a tune,"
answered Will Scarlet, "but I would not sing alone."
"Nay, others will follow. Strike up,
lad," quoth Robin.
"In that case, 'tis well," said Will
Scarlet. "I do call to mind a song that a certain minstrel used to sing
in my father's hall, upon occasion. I know no name for it and so can
give you none; but thus it is." Then, clearing his throat, he sang:
"In the merry blossom time,
love longings food the breast,
When the flower is on the lime,
When the small fowl builds her nest,
Sweetly sings the nightingale
And the throstle cock so bold;
Cuckoo in the dewy dale
turtle in the word.
But the robin I love dear,
For he singeth
through the year.
So I'd have my
true love be:
Not to fly
At the nigh
Sign of cold adversity.
"When the spring brings sweet delights,
When aloft the lark doth rise,
Lovers woo o' mellow nights,
youths peep in maidens' eyes,
That time blooms the eglantine,
Daisies pied upon the hill,
Cowslips fair and columbine,
violets by the rill.
But the ivy green cloth grow
When the north
wind bringeth snow.
Stanch and true!
Thus I'd have
her love to be:
Not to die
At the nigh
Breath of cold
"'Tis well sung," quoth Robin, "but, cousin, I tell thee
plain, I would rather hear a stout fellow like thee sing some lusty
ballad than a finicking song of flowers and birds, and what not. Yet,
thou didst sing it fair, and 'tis none so bad a snatch of a song, for
the matter of that. Now, Tanner, it is thy turn."
"I know not," quoth Arthur, smiling,
with his head on one side, like a budding lass that is asked to dance,
"I know not that I can match our sweet friend's song; moreover, I do
verily think that I have caught a cold and have a certain tickling and
huskiness in the windpipe."
"Nay, sing up, friend," quoth Little
John, who sat next to him, patting him upon the shoulder. "Thou hast a
fair, round, mellow voice; let us have a touch of it."
"Nay, an ye will ha' a poor thing,"
said Arthur, "I will do my best. Have ye ever heard of the wooing of Sir
Keith, the stout young Cornish knight, in good King Arthur's time?"
"Methinks I have heard somewhat of it,"
said Robin; "but ne'ertheless strike up thy ditty and let us hear it,
for, as I do remember me, it is a gallant song; so out with it, good
Thereupon, clearing his throat, the
Tanner, without more ado, began to sing:
THE WOOING OF SIR KEITH
"King Arthur sat in his royal hall,
And about on either hand
Was many a noble lordling tall,
greatest in the land.
"Sat Lancelot with raven locks,
Gawaine with golden hair,
Sir Tristram, Kay who kept the locks,
And many another there.
"And through the stained windows
From o'er the red-tiled eaves,
The sunlight blazed with
On golden helms and greaves.
"But suddenly a silence came
the Table Round,
For up the hall there walked a dame
unto the ground.
"Her nose was hooked, her eyes were
Her locks were lank and white;
Upon her chin there grew a
She was a gruesome sight.
"And so with crawling step she came
And kneeled at Arthur's feet;
Quoth Kay, `She is the foulest dame
That e'er my sight did greet.'
" `O mighty King! of thee I crave
boon on bended knee';
'Twas thus she spoke. `What wouldst thou have.'
Quoth Arthur, King, `of me?'
"Quoth she, `I have a foul disease
Doth gnaw my very heart,
And but one thing can bring me ease
cure my bitter smart.
" `There is no rest, no ease for me
North, east, or west, or south,
Till Christian knight will willingly
Thrice kiss me on the mouth.
" `Nor wedded may this childe have been
That giveth ease to me;
Nor may he be constrained, I ween,
kiss me willingly.
" `So is there here one Christian
Of such a noble strain
That he will give a tortured wight
Sweet ease of mortal pain?'
" `A wedded man,' quoth Arthur, King,
`A wedded man I be
Else would I deem it noble thing
To kiss thee
" `Now, Lancelot, in all men's sight
Thou art the head and chief
Of chivalry. Come, noble knight,
give her quick relief.'
"But Lancelot he turned aside
looked upon the ground,
For it did sting his haughty pride
them laugh around.
" `Come thou, Sir Tristram,' quoth the
Quoth he, `It cannot be,
For ne'er can I my stomach bring
To do it willingly.'
" `Wilt thou, Sir Kay, thou scornful
Quoth Kay, `Nay, by my troth!
What noble dame would kiss a
That kissed so foul a mouth?'
" `Wilt thou, Gawaine?' `I cannot,
`Sir Geraint?' `Nay, not I;
My kisses no relief could
For sooner would I die.'
"Then up and spake the youngest man
Of all about the board,
'Now such relief as Christian can
give to her, my lord.'
"It was Sir Keith, a youthful knight,
Yet strong of limb and bold,
With beard upon his chin as light
finest threads of gold.
"Quoth Kay, `He hath no mistress yet
That he may call his own,
But here is one that's quick to get,
she herself has shown.'
"He kissed her once, he kissed her
He kissed her three times o'er,
A wondrous change came in a
And she was foul no more.
"Her cheeks grew red as any rose,
Her brow as white as lawn,
Her bosom like the winter snows,
eyes like those of fawn.
"Her breath grew sweet as summer breeze
That blows the meadows o'er;
Her voice grew soft as rustling trees,
And cracked and harsh no more.
"Her hair grew glittering, like the
Her hands as white as milk;
Her filthy rags, so foul and
Were changed to robes of silk.
"In great amaze the knights did stare.
Quoth Kay, `I make my vow
If it will please thee, lady fair,
gladly kiss thee now.'
"But young Sir Keith kneeled on one
And kissed her robes so fair.
`O let me be thy slave,' said
`For none to thee compare.'
"She bent her down, she kissed his
She kissed his lips and eyes.
Quoth she, `Thou art my master
My lord, my love, arise!
" `And all the wealth that is mine own,
My lands, I give to thee,
For never knight hath lady shown
" `Bewitched was I, in bitter pain,
But thou hast set me free,
So now I am myself again,
I give myself
to thee.' "
"Yea, truly," quoth Robin Hood, when the Tanner had made
an end of singing, "it is as I remember it, a fair ditty, and a ballad
with a pleasing tune of a song."
"It hath oftentimes seemed to me," said
Will Scarlet, "that it hath a certain motive in it, e'en such as this:
That a duty which seemeth to us sometimes ugly and harsh, when we do
kiss it fairly upon the mouth, so to speak, is no such foul thing after
"Methinks thou art right," quoth Robin,
"and, contrariwise, that when we kiss a pleasure that appeareth gay it
turneth foul to us; is it not so, Little John? Truly such a thing hath
brought thee sore thumps this day. Nay, man, never look down in the
mouth. Clear thy pipes and sing us a ditty."
"Nay," said Little John, "I have none
as fair as that merry Arthur has trolled. They are all poor things that
I know. Moreover, my voice is not in tune today, and I would not spoil
even a tolerable song by ill singing."
Upon this all pressed Little John to
sing, so that when he had denied them a proper length of time, such as
is seemly in one that is asked to sing, he presently yielded. Quoth he,
`Well, an ye will ha' it so, I will give you what I can. Like to fair
Will, I have no title to my ditty, but thus it runs:
"O Lady mine, the spring is here,
With a hey nonny nonny;
The sweet love season of the year,
ninny ninny nonny;
Now lad and lass
Lie in the grass
With flowers between.
The buck doth rest
leaves do start,
The cock doth crow,
The breeze doth blow,
all things laugh in--"
"Who may yon fellow be coming along the road?"
said Robin, breaking into the song.
"I know not," quoth Little John in a
surly voice. "But this I do know, that it is an ill thing to do to check
the flow of a good song."
"Nay, Little John," said Robin, "be not
vexed, I prythee; but I have been watching him coming along, bent
beneath that great bag over his shoulder, ever since thou didst begin
thy song. Look, Little John, I pray, and see if thou knowest him."
Little John looked whither Robin Hood
pointed. "Truly," quoth he, after a time, "I think yon fellow is a
certain young miller I have seen now and then around the edge of
Sherwood; a poor wight, methinks, to spoil a good song about."
"Now thou speakest of him," quoth Robin
Hood, "methinks I myself have seen him now and then. Hath he not a mill
over beyond Nottingham Town, nigh to the Salisbury road?"
"Thou art right; that is the man," said
"A good stout fellow," quoth Robin. "I
saw him crack Ned o' Bradford's crown about a fortnight since, and never
saw I hair lifted more neatly in all my life before."
By this time the young miller had come
so near that they could see him clearly. His clothes were dusted with
flour, and over his back he carried a great sack of meal, bending so as
to bring the whole weight upon his shoulders, and across the sack was a
thick quarterstaff. His limbs were stout and strong, and he strode along
the dusty road right sturdily with the heavy sack across his shoulders.
His cheeks were ruddy as a winter hip, his hair was flaxen in color, and
on his chin was a downy growth of flaxen beard.
"A good honest fellow," quoth Robin
Hood, "and such an one as is a credit to English yeomanrie. Now let us
have a merry jest with him. We will forth as though we were common
thieves and pretend to rob him of his honest gains. Then will we take
him into the forest and give him a feast such as his stomach never held
in all his life before. We will flood his throat with good canary and
send him home with crowns in his purse for every penny he hath. What say
"Truly, it is a merry thought," said
"It is well planned," quoth Little
John, "but all the saints preserve us from any more drubbings this day!
Marry, my poor bones ache so that I--"
"Prythee peace, Little John," quoth
Robin. "Thy foolish tongue will get us both well laughed at yet."
"My foolish tongue, forsooth," growled
Little John to Arthur a Bland. "I would it could keep our master from
getting us into another coil this day."
But now the Miller, plodding along the
road, had come opposite to where the yeomen lay hidden, whereupon all
four of them ran at him and surrounded him.
"Hold, friend!" cried Robin to the
Miller; whereupon he turned slowly, with the weight of the bag upon his
shoulder, and looked at each in turn all bewildered, for though a good
stout man his wits did not skip like roasting chestnuts.
"Who bids me stay?" said the Miller in
a voice deep and gruff, like the growl of a great dog.
"Marry, that do I," quoth Robin; "and
let me tell thee, friend, thou hadst best mind my bidding."
"And who art thou, good friend?" said
the Miller, throwing the great sack of meal from his shoulder to the
ground, "and who are those with thee?"
"We be four good Christian men," quoth
Robin, "and would fain help thee by carrying part of thy heavy load."
"I give you all thanks," said the
Miller, "but my bag is none that heavy that I cannot carry it e'en by
"Nay, thou dost mistake," quoth Robin,
"I meant that thou mightest perhaps have some heavy farthings or pence
about thee, not to speak of silver and gold. Our good Gaffer Swanthold
sayeth that gold is an overheavy burden for a two-legged ass to carry;
so we would e'en lift some of this load from thee."
"Alas!" cried the Miller, "what would
ye do to me? I have not about me so much as a clipped groat. Do me no
harm, I pray you, but let me depart in peace. Moreover, let me tell you
that ye are upon Robin Hood's ground, and should he find you seeking to
rob an honest craftsman, he will clip your ears to your heads and
scourge you even to the walls of Nottingham.
"In truth I fear Robin Hood no more
than I do myself," quoth jolly Robin. "Thou must this day give up to me
every penny thou hast about thee. Nay, if thou dost budge an inch I will
rattle this staff about thine ears."
"Nay, smite me not!" cried the Miller,
throwing up his elbow as though he feared the blow. "Thou mayst search
me if thou wilt, but thou wilt find nothing upon me, pouch, pocket, or
"Is it so?" quoth Robin Hood, looking
keenly upon him. "Now I believe that what thou tellest is no true tale.
If I am not much mistook thou hast somewhat in the bottom of that fat
sack of meal. Good Arthur, empty the bag upon the ground; I warrant thou
wilt find a shilling or two in the flour."
"Alas!" cried the Miller, falling upon
his knees, "spoil not all my good meal! It can better you not, and will
ruin me. Spare it, and I will give up the money in the bag."
"Ha!" quoth Robin, nudging Will
Scarlet. "Is it so? And have I found where thy money lies? Marry, I have
a wondrous nose for the blessed image of good King Harry. I thought that
I smelled gold and silver beneath the barley meal. Bring it straight
Then slowly the Miller arose to his
feet, and slowly and unwillingly he untied the mouth of the bag, and
slowly thrust his hands into the meal and began fumbling about with his
arms buried to the elbows in the barley flour. The others gathered round
him, their heads together, looking and wondering what he would bring
So they stood, all with their heads
close together gazing down into the sack. But while he pretended to be
searching for the money, the Miller gathered two great handfuls of meal.
"Ha," quoth he, "here they are, the beauties." Then, as the others
leaned still more forward to see what he had, he suddenly cast the meal
into their faces, filling their eyes and noses and mouths with the
flour, blinding and half choking them. Arthur a Bland was worse off than
any, for his mouth was open, agape with wonder of what was to come, so
that a great cloud of flour flew down his throat, setting him a-coughing
till he could scarcely stand.
Then, while all four stumbled about,
roaring with the smart of the meal in their eyeballs, and while they
rubbed their eyes till the tears made great channels on their faces
through the meal, the Miller seized another handful of flour and another
and another, throwing it in their faces, so that even had they had a
glimmering of light before they were now as blind as ever a beggar in
Nottinghamshire, while their hair and beards and clothes were as white
Then catching up his great crabstaff,
the Miller began laying about him as though he were clean gone mad. This
way and that skipped the four, like peas on a drumhead, but they could
see neither to defend themselves nor to run away. Thwack! thwack! went
the Miller's cudgel across their backs, and at every blow great white
clouds of flour rose in the air from their jackets and went drifting
down the breeze.
"Stop!" roared Robin at last. "Give
over, good friend, I am Robin Hood!"
"Thou liest, thou knave," cried the
Miller, giving him a rap on the ribs that sent up a great cloud of flour
like a puff of smoke. "Stout Robin never robbed an honest tradesman. Ha!
thou wouldst have my money, wouldst thou?" And he gave him another blow.
"Nay, thou art not getting thy share, thou long-legged knave. Share and
share alike." And he smote Little John across the shoulders so that he
sent him skipping half across the road. "Nay, fear not, it is thy turn
now, black beard." And he gave the Tanner a crack that made him roar for
all his coughing. "How now, red coat, let me brush the dust from thee!"
cried he, smiting Will Scarlet. And so he gave them merry words and
blows until they could scarcely stand, and whenever he saw one like to
clear his eyes he threw more flour in his face. At last Robin Hood found
his horn and clapping it to his lips, blew three loud blasts upon it.
Now it chanced that Will Stutely and a
party of Robin's men were in the glade not far from where this merry
sport was going forward. Hearing the hubbub of voices, and blows that
sounded like the noise of a flail in the barn in wintertime, they
stopped, listening and wondering what was toward. Quoth Will Stutely,
"Now if I mistake not there is some stout battle with cudgels going
forward not far hence. I would fain see this pretty sight." So saying,
he and the whole party turned their steps whence the noise came. When
they had come near where all the tumult sounded they heard the three
blasts of Robin's bugle horn.
"Quick!" cried young David of
Doncaster. "Our master is in sore need!" So, without stopping a moment,
they dashed forward with might and main and burst forth from the covert
into the highroad.
But what a sight was that which they
saw! The road was all white with meal, and five men stood there also
white with meal from top to toe, for much of the barley flour had fallen
back upon the Miller.
"What is thy need, master?" cried Will
Stutely. "And what doth all this mean?"
"Why," quoth Robin in a mighty passion,
"yon traitor felt low hath come as nigh slaying me as e'er a man in all
the world. Hadst thou not come quickly, good Stutely, thy master had
Hereupon, while he and the three others
rubbed the meal from their eyes, and Will Stutely and his men brushed
their clothes clean, he told them all; how that he had meant to pass a
jest upon the Miller, which same had turned so grievously upon them.
"Quick, men, seize the vile Miller!"
cried Stutely, who was nigh choking with laughter as were the rest;
whereupon several ran upon the stout fellow and seizing him, bound his
arms behind his back with bowstrings.
"Ha!" cried Robin, when they brought
the trembling Miller to him. "Thou wouldst murder me, wouldst thou? By
my faith"-- Here he stopped and stood glaring upon the, Miller grimly.
But Robin's anger could not hold, so first his eyes twinkled, and then
in spite of all he broke into a laugh.
Now when they saw their master laugh,
the yeomen who stood around could contain themselves no longer, and a
mighty shout of laughter went up from all. Many could not stand, but
rolled upon the ground from pure merriment.
"What is thy name, good fellow?" said
Robin at last to the Miller, who stood gaping and as though he were in
"Alas, sir, I am Midge, the Miller's
son," said he in a frightened voice.
"I make my vow," quoth merry Robin,
smiting him upon the shoulder, "thou art the mightiest Midge that e'er
mine eyes beheld. Now wilt thou leave thy dusty mill and come and join
my band? By my faith, thou art too stout a man to spend thy days betwixt
the hopper and the till."
"Then truly, if thou dost forgive me
for the blows I struck, not knowing who thou wast, I will join with thee
right merrily," said the Miller.
"Then have I gained this day," quoth
Robin, "the three stoutest yeomen in all Nottinghamshire. We will get us
away to the greenwood tree, and there hold a merry feast in honor of our
new friends, and mayhap a cup or two of good sack and canary may mellow
the soreness of my poor joints and bones, though I warrant it will be
many a day before I am again the man I was." So saying, he turned and
led the way, the rest following, and so they entered the forest once
more and were lost to sight.
So that night all was ablaze with
crackling fires in the woodlands, for though Robin and those others
spoken of, only excepting Midge, the Miller's son, had many a sore bump
and bruise here and there on their bodies, they were still not so sore
in the joints that they could not enjoy a jolly feast given all in
welcome to the new members of the band. Thus with songs and jesting and
laughter that echoed through the deeper and more silent nooks of the
forest, the night passed quickly along, as such merry times are wont to
do, until at last each man sought his couch and silence fell on all
things and all things seemed to sleep.
But Little John's tongue was ever one
that was not easy of guidance, so that, inch by inch, the whole story of
his fight with the Tanner and Robin's fight with Will Scarlet leaked
out. And so I have told it that you may laugh at the merry tale along