Robin Hood, however, had no liking for a company of idle men about
him, and he at once sent off Little John and Will Scarlett to the
great road known as Watling Street, with orders to hide among the
trees and wait till some adventure might come to them; and if they
took captive Earl or Baron, Abbot or Knight, he was to be brought
unharmed back to Robin Hood.
But all along Watling Street the road was bare; white and hard it lay
in the sun, without the tiniest cloud of dust to show that a rich
company might be coming: east and west the land lay still.
At length, just where a side path turned into the broad highway, there
rode a Knight, and a sorrier man than he never sat a horse on summer
day. One foot only was in the stirrup, the other hung carelessly by
his side; his head was bowed, the reins dropped loose, and his horse
went on as he would. At so sad a sight the hearts of the outlaws were
filled with pity, and Little John fell on his knees and bade the
Knight welcome in the name of his master.
'Who is your master?' asked the Knight.
'Robin Hood,' answered Little John.
'I have heard much good of him,' replied the Knight, 'and will go with
you gladly.'
Then they all set off together, tears running down the Knight's cheeks
as he rode, but he said nothing, neither was anything said to him. And
in this wise they came to Robin Hood.
'Welcome, Sir Knight,' cried he, 'and thrice welcome, for I waited to
break my fast till you or some other had come to me.'
'God save you, good Robin,' answered the Knight, and after they had
washed themselves in the stream they sat down to dine off bread and
wine, with flesh of the King's deer, and swans and pheasants. 'Such a
dinner have I not had for three weeks and more,' said the Knight. 'And
if I ever come again this way, good Robin, I will give you as fine a
dinner as you have given me.'
'I thank you,' replied Robin, 'my dinner is always welcome; still, I
am none so greedy but I can wait for it. But before you go, pay me, I
pray you, for the food which you have had. It was never the custom for
a yeoman to pay for a Knight.'
'My bag is empty,' said the Knight, 'save for ten shillings only.'
'Go, Little John, and look in his wallet,' said Robin, 'and, Sir
Knight, if in truth you have no more, not one penny will I take, nay,
I will give you all that you shall need.'
So Little John spread out the Knight's mantle, and opened the bag, and
therein lay ten shillings and naught besides.
'What tidings, Little John?' cried his master.
'Sir, the Knight speaks truly,' said Little John.
'Then fill a cup of the best wine and tell me, Sir Knight, whether it
is your own ill doings which have brought you to this sorry pass.'
'For an hundred years my fathers have dwelt in the forest,' answered
the Knight, 'and four hundred pounds might they spend yearly. But
within two years misfortune has befallen me, and my wife and children
also.'
'How did this evil come to pass?' asked Robin.
'Through my own folly,' answered the Knight, 'and because of the great
love I bore my son, who would never be guided of my counsel, and slew,
ere he was twenty years old, a Knight of Lancaster and his Squire. For
their deaths I had to pay a large sum, which I could not raise
without giving my lands in pledge to the rich Abbot of St. Mary's. If
I cannot bring him the money by a certain day they will be lost to me
for ever.'
'What is the sum?' asked Robin. 'Tell me truly.'
'It is four hundred pounds,' said the Knight.
'And what will you do if you lose your lands?' asked Robin again.
'Hide myself over the sea,' said the Knight, 'and bid farewell to my
friends and country. There is no better way open to me.'
At this tears fell from his eyes, and he turned him to depart. 'Good
day, my friend,' he said to Robin, 'I cannot pay you what I should--'
But Robin held him fast. 'Where _are_ your friends?' asked he.
'Sir, they have all forsaken me since I became poor, and they turn
away their heads if we meet upon the road, though when I was rich they
were ever in my castle.'
When Little John and Will Scarlett and the rest heard this they wept
for very shame and fury and Robin bade them fill a cup of the best
wine, and give it to the Knight.
'Have you no one who would stay surety for you?' said he.
'None,' answered the Knight, 'but only Our Lady, who has never yet
failed to help me.'
'You speak well,' said Robin, 'and you, Little John, go to my treasure
chest, and bring me thence four hundred pounds. And be sure you count
it truly.'
So Little John went, and Will Scarlett, and they brought back the
money.
'Sir,' said Little John, when Robin had counted it and found it no
more nor no less, 'look at his clothes, how thin they are! You have
stores of garments, green and scarlet, in your coffers--no merchant in
England can boast the like. I will measure some out with my bow.' And
thus he did.
'Master,' spoke Little John again, 'there is still something else. You
must give him a horse, that he may go as beseems his quality to the
Abbey.'
'Take the grey horse,' said Robin, 'and put a new saddle on it, and
take likewise a good palfrey and a pair of boots, with gilt spurs on
them. And as it were a shame for a Knight to ride by himself on this
errand, I will lend you Little John as Squire--perchance he may stand
you in yeoman's stead.'
'When shall we meet again?' asked the Knight.
'This day twelve months,' said Robin, 'under the greenwood tree.'
Then the Knight rode on his way, with Little John behind him, and as
he went he thought of Robin Hood and his men, and blessed them for the
goodness they had shown towards him.
'To-morrow,' he said to Little John, 'I must be at the Abbey of St.
Mary, which is in the city of York, for if I am but so much as a day
late my lands are lost for ever, and though I were to bring the money
I should not be suffered to redeem them.'
* * * * *
Now the Abbot had been counting the days as well as the Knight, and
the next morning he said to his monks: 'This day year there came a
Knight and borrowed of me four hundred pounds, giving his lands in
surety. And if he come not to pay his debt ere midnight tolls they
will be ours for ever.'
'It is full early yet,' answered the Prior, 'he may still be coming.'
'He is far beyond the sea,' said the Abbot, 'and suffers from hunger
and cold. How is he to get here?'
'It were a shame,' said the Prior, 'for you to take his lands. And you
do him much wrong if you drive such a hard bargain.'
'He is dead or hanged,' spake a fat-headed monk who was the cellarer,
'and we shall have his four hundred pounds to spend on our gardens
and our wines,' and he went with the Abbot to attend the court of
justice wherein the Knight's lands would be declared forfeited by the
High Justiciar.
'If he come not this day,' cried the Abbot, rubbing his hands, 'if he
come not this day, they will be ours.'
'He will not come yet,' said the Justiciar, but he knew not that the
Knight was already at the outer gate, and Little John with him.
'Welcome, Sir Knight,' said the porter. 'The horse that you ride is
the noblest that ever I saw. Let me lead them both to the stable, that
they may have food and rest.'
'They shall not pass these gates,' answered the Knight sternly, and he
entered the hall alone, where the monks were sitting at meat, and
knelt down and bowed to them.
'I have come back, my lord,' he said to the Abbot, who had just
returned from the court. 'I have come back this day as I promised.'
'Have you brought my money?' was all the Abbot said.
'Not a penny,' answered the Knight, who wished to see how the Abbot
would treat him.
'Then what do you here without it?' cried the Abbot in angry tones.
'I have come to pray you for a longer day,' answered the Knight
meekly.
'The day was fixed and cannot be gainsaid,' replied the Justiciar, but
the Knight only begged that he would stand his friend and help him in
his strait. 'I am with the Abbot,' was all the Justiciar would answer.
'Good Sir Abbot, be my friend,' prayed the Knight again, 'and give me
one chance more to get the money and free my lands. I will serve you
day and night till I have four hundred pounds to redeem them.'
But the Abbot only swore a great oath, and vowed that the money must
be paid that day or the lands be forfeited.
The Knight stood up straight and tall: 'It is well,' said he, 'to
prove one's friends against the hour of need,' and he looked the Abbot
full in the face, and the Abbot felt uneasy, he did not know why, and
hated the Knight more than ever. 'Out of my hall, false Knight!' cried
he, pretending to a courage which he did not feel. But the Knight
stayed where he was, and answered him, 'You lie, Abbot. Never was I
false, and that I have shown in jousts and in tourneys.'
'Give him two hundred pounds more,' said the Justiciar to the Abbot,
'and keep the lands yourself.'
'No, by Heaven!' answered the Knight, 'not if you offered me a
thousand pounds would I do it! Neither Justiciar, Abbot, nor Monk
shall be heir of mine.' Then he strode up to a table and emptied out
four hundred pounds. 'Take your gold, Sir Abbot, which you lent to me
a year agone. Had you but received me civilly, I would have paid you
something more.
'Sir Abbot, and ye men of law,
Now have I kept my day!
Now shall I have my land again,
For aught that you may say.'
So he passed out of the hall singing merrily, leaving the Abbot
staring silently after him, and rode back to his house in Verisdale,
where his wife met him at the gate.
'Welcome, my lord,' said his lady,
'Sir, lost is all your good.'
'Be merry, dame,' said the Knight,
'And pray for Robin Hood.'
'But for his kindness, we had been beggars.'
After this the Knight dwelt at home, looking after his lands, and
saving his money carefully till the four hundred pounds lay ready for
Robin Hood. Then he bought a hundred bows and a hundred arrows, and
every arrow was an ell long, and had a head of silver and peacock's
feathers. And clothing himself in white and red, and with a hundred
men in his train, he set off to Sherwood Forest.
On the way he passed an open space near a bridge where there was a
wrestling, and the Knight stopped and looked, for he himself had taken
many a prize in that sport. Here the prizes were such as to fill any
man with envy; a fine horse, saddled and bridled, a great white bull,
a pair of gloves, a ring of bright red gold, and a pipe of wine. There
was not a yeoman present who did not hope to win one of them. But when
the wrestling was over, the yeoman who had beaten them all was a man
who kept apart from his fellows, and was said to think much of
himself. Therefore the men grudged him his skill, and set upon him
with blows, and would have killed him, had not the Knight, for love of
Robin Hood, taken pity on him, while his followers fought with the
crowd, and would not suffer them to touch the prizes a better man had
won.
When the wrestling was finished the Knight rode on, and there under
the greenwood tree, in the place appointed, he found Robin Hood and
his merry men waiting for him, according to the tryst that they had
fixed last year:
'God save thee, Robin Hood,
And all this company.'
'Welcome be thou, gentle Knight,
And right welcome to me.'
'Hast thou thy land again?' said Robin,
'Truth then tell thou me.'
'Yea, for God,' said the Knight,
'And that thank I God and thee.'
'Have here four hundred pounds,' said the Knight,
'The which you lent to me;
And here are also twenty marks
For your courtesie.'
But Robin would not take the money. A miracle had happened, he said,
and Our Lady had paid it to him, and shame would it be for him to take
it twice over. Then he noticed for the first time the bows and arrows
which the Knight had brought, and asked what they were. 'A poor
present to you,' answered the Knight, and Robin, who would not be
outdone, sent Little John once more to his treasury, and bade him
bring forth four hundred pounds, which was given to the Knight. After
that they parted, in much love, and Robin prayed the Knight if he were
in any strait 'to let him know at the greenwood tree, and while there
was any gold there he should have it.'