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 dear Sheriff's."
"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 Lincoln green.
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 morrow.
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 see.
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 broadsword.
"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 deer."
"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 thyself, fellow!"
"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 together.
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 the Sheriff.
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 ribs.
"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 this day."
"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 beheld."
"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.