“For some long time after this last daring adventure, Robin Hood and his
men were so hotly pressed by the sheriff that it was with difficulty that
they eluded the pursuit. Now concealing themselves in the recesses of
a cavern, now in the thickest coverts of the forest, they were obliged
almost daily to change their abode, until at last, tired of the incessant
chase, the sheriff disbanded his forces and returned to Nottingham.
“When the outlaws were well assured of this, they quickly came back to
their old haunts in Barnesdale and Sherwood, and pursued their usual
course of life. One evening Robin Hood was roving through the woods, when
he espied a sturdy-looking beggar, clad in an old patched cloak, come
jogging along. In his hand he carried a thick oaken staff, with which he
assisted himself in walking, and round his neck a well-filled meal-bag
was suspended by a broad leathern belt, while three steeple crowned hats
placed within each other, sheltered his bald pate from the rain and snow.
“‘Stay, good friend,’ said Robin Hood to him as they met; ‘thou seem’st
in haste to-night.’
“‘I’ve far to go yet,’ answered the beggar, still pushing onwards, ‘and
should look foolish enough to get to my lodging house when all the
supper’s done.’
“‘Ay! ay!’ returned Robin Hood, walking by his side. ‘So long as thou
fillest thine own mouth, thou carest but little about mine. Lend me some
money, my friend, till we meet again. I’ve not dined yet, and my credit
at the tavern is but indifferent.’
“‘If thou fastest till I give thee money,’ replied the mendicant,
‘thou’lt eat nothing this year. Thou’rt a younger man than I am, and
ought to work:’ and the old fellow pushed on still more briskly.
“‘Now, by my troth, thou’rt but a churl,’ cried the outlaw. ‘If thou hast
but one farthing in thy pouch, ’tshall part company with thee before I
go. Off with thy ragged cloak, and let’s see what treasures it conceals,
or I’ll make a window in it with my good broad arrows.’
“‘Dost think I care for wee bits of sticks like them?’ said the beggar,
laughing; ‘they’re fit for nothing but skewers for a housewife’s
pudding-bag.’ Robin Hood drew back a pace or two, and fitted an arrow
to his bow-string, but before he could let it fly the beggar swung his
staff round his head, and with one stroke splintered bow and arrow into
twenty pieces. The outlaw drew his sword, and was about to repay this
with interest, when a second blow from the old man’s stick lighted upon
his wrist, and so great was the pain it caused that his blade fell
involuntarily from his grasp. Poor Robin Hood was now completely in the
beggar’s power;—
“‘He could not fight—he could not flee,—
He wist not what to do;
The beggar, with his noble tree,
Laid lusty slaps him to.
“‘He paid good Robin back and side,
And baste him up and down;
And with his pike-staff laid on loud,
Till he fell in a swoon.’
“‘Stand up, man,’ cried the beggar jeeringly, ‘’tis hardly bed-time yet.
Count thy money, man—buy ale and wine with it, and give thy friends a
jovial carouse. How they’ll laugh at the poor beggar.’
“Robin Hood answered not a word, but lay still as a stone; his cheeks
pale as ashes, and his eyes closed. The beggar gave him a parting thwack,
and thinking that he had killed the saucy highwayman, went boldly on his
way.
“It fortunately happened that Will Scarlet and two of his comrades
were soon after passing by, and seeing a man lying by the road-side,
apparently dead, walked up to him. What was their consternation and grief
when they beheld their loved chief weltering in his blood. Will Scarlet
bended upon one knee, and raised his master’s head upon the other. One
forester ran to a brook that flowed close by, and brought back his cap
filled with water, which they sprinkled upon his face, and his companion
drew from his pouch a little leathern bottle, the contents of which
speedily revived the unfortunate outlaw.
“‘Tell us, dear master,’ exclaimed Will Scarlet, ‘who has done this?’
“Robin Hood sighed deeply. ‘I’ve roved in these woods for many years,’ he
said, ‘but never have I been so hard beset as on this day. A beggar with
an old patched cloak, for whom I would not have given a straw, has so
hasted my back with his pike-staff that it will be many a day ere Robin
Hood will lead his merry men again.—See! see!’ he added as he raised his
head;—‘there goes the man, on yonder hill, with three hats upon his head.
My friends,—if you love your master,—go and revenge this deed;—bring him
back to me, and let me see with mine own eyes the punishment you’ll give
him.’
“‘One of us shall remain with thee,’ replied Will; ‘thou’rt ill at ease.
The other two will quickly bring back yon evil-minded miscreant.’
“‘Nay, nay,’ returned the discomfited outlaw; ‘by my troth ye will have
enough to do if he once get scope for that villanous staff of his.—Go,
all of ye,—seize him suddenly—bind him fast, and bring him here, that I
may repay him for these hard blows that he has given me.’
“Will Scarlet and his two companions started off as fast as they could
run, dashing onward through many a miry pool, and over many a tiring
hill, until they arrived at a part of the road that wound through the
forest by a way at least a mile and a half nearer than the beaten path
that the beggar had taken. There was a dense copse of trees in the
bottom of a valley through which a little brook gently streamed, and
the road-way ran close to it. The foresters, well acquainted with every
acre of the ground which they so often traversed, took advantage of this
grove, and concealed themselves behind the well covered branches. In
the mean while the old beggar rejoicing in the victory he had so lately
obtained, walked sturdily on, as briskly as age and his weary limbs would
allow him. He passed by the copse without the least suspicion of lurking
danger, but had proceeded only a step or two farther when his staff was
violently seized by one of the foresters, and a dagger was pointed to his
breast, with threats of vengeance if he resisted.
“‘Oh! spare my life,’ cried the beggar, at once relinquishing his hold,
‘and take away that ugly knife. What have I done to deserve this? I am
but a poor beggar, who has never wronged thee or thine.’
“‘Thou liest, false carle,’ replied Will, ‘thou hast well nigh slain
the noblest man that e’er trod the forest grass. Back shalt thou go to
him, and before yon sun sinks down thy carcase shall be dangling from the
highest tree in Barnesdale.’
“The beggar was sorely frightened at this terrible threat; he had lost
his only weapon, and his aged limbs were but a poor match against three
stout young men. He began to despair and to give himself up as lost, when
a thought struck him. ‘Brave gentlemen,’ he said, ‘why take ye a poor
man’s blood? ’Twill make ye none the richer. If ye will give me liberty,
and promise to do me no more harm, I have a hundred golden pounds in this
meal-bag, that shall be yours.’ The foresters whispered together and
determined to get the money first, come afterwards what might.
“‘Give us thy money,’ said Will, ‘and we’ll let thee go thy way.’ The
beggar unfastened the clasp of his belt, and taking it from his neck,
spread the meal-bag upon the grass, while the young men anxious for the
gold, bent over, eager to seize upon the expected prize. The old fellow
pretended to search very diligently at the bottom of the bag, and pulled
out a peck or two of meal, which he piled into a heap; then watching his
opportunity, he filled both hands full, and threw it violently in the
faces of the outlaws, who, blinded and astonished, began to rub their
eyes most woefully. The beggar sprung up in a moment, seized his staff,
and in a twinkling began to belabour their backs and shoulders.
“‘I have mealed your coats,’ he cried, ‘but I’ve a good pike-staff here
that will soon beat them clean again;’ and before the youths could
recover from their consternation the old man plied his staff so manfully
that his arm ached from the exertion, and he was obliged to stay for rest.
“The young outlaws did not attempt to retaliate; indeed they could not
see where to strike; but trusting to their swiftness, scampered away even
more briskly than they had come; and the beggar laughing at the success
of his wile, plunged into the woods, and made the best of his way from
Barnesdale forest.
“When Will Scarlet and his comrades presented themselves before Robin
Hood, the bold outlaw, ill as he was, could not refrain from bursting
into laughter at their sheepish appearance. They hung down their heads,
and still rubbed their eyes, while the meal on their coats made known
the trick that had been played upon them.
“‘What have ye done with the bold beggar?’ inquired Robin Hood; ‘surely
three of ye were a match for him.’ Will Scarlet replied; told him of
their first success, and the old man’s promise of money; but when he came
to the meal and the drubbing they had received, Robin Hood laughed till
his bruised limbs ached. Although he would fain have revenged himself
upon his opponent, yet the cleverness of the trick so pleased his fancy
that he swore that if ever he met the sturdy beggar again, he would, by
fair means or foul, make him join his band in merry Barnesdale.”
This tale was frequently interrupted with the loud laughter of my
hearers, who all praised the dexterity of the old beggar-man.