“We must suppose that several years had elapsed since Robin Hood’s
victory in Finsbury field, when the following tale commences. Richard
the Lion-hearted had succeeded to his father’s throne, and with many
of his nobles had joined the memorable crusades. During his absence in
Palestine, the internal state of England had become far worse than it was
at the time of his accession. Baron rose up against baron, and princes
made war upon each other, till discord, tumult, and fierce rapine,
reigned throughout the land. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at,
when the laws were for a time suspended and force of arms alone decided
the contest, that the bold foresters had again recourse to their superior
strength.
“It was a bright morning in early summer, when a solitary horseman was
proceeding upon his journey through one of the narrow roads that crossed
Barnesdale forest;
“‘All dreary was his semblance,
And little was his pride,
His one foot in the stirrup stood,
The other waved beside;
“‘His hood was hanging o’er his eyes,
He rode in simple array,
A sorrier man than he was one
Rode never on summer’s day.’
“A deep sigh escaped from the melancholy horseman, and big tears coursed
each other down his cheeks, at every step of his poor lean beast; and
when three men suddenly emerged from the wood, and stood before his path,
he seemed scarcely conscious of their presence.
“‘God save thee, sir knight,’ cried one of them, a tall forester, nearly
seven feet high, moved with compassion at his forlorn appearance.
‘Welcome to our merry green-wood. Thou must be our guest to-day.’
“‘Leave me, good sirs, I pray ye,’ said the knight mournfully, ‘my
sorrows are already too heavy for me to bear; add not to my distress.’
“‘Nay, be not so downcast,’ returned the former speaker. ‘Thou art in
good hands, and may’st trust us. Our master waits dinner for a guest, and
thou art the first man who has passed through Barnesdale this day.’ Then
taking the knight’s rein in his hand, the forester led the jaded steed
through the intricate paths of the wood, until he arrived at an open
lawn, where a band of yeomen were reclining under the shade of a huge elm.
“‘Welcome, sir knight,’ said one of them rising and doffing his cap at
the appearance of a stranger. ‘Welcome to merry Barnesdale.’
“‘Who art thou,’ inquired the horseman, ‘that causest travellers to be
constrained from their way? I am but a poor knight, without so much as a
piece of gold, wherewith to buy me food.’
“‘More welcome still,’ exclaimed the forester, assisting him from his
horse. ‘We shall have the blessings of charity upon our deeds. Thou
hast heard of Robin Hood,—I am that outlaw, and these are my gallant
followers.’
“‘Unless report belie thee,’ replied the knight, ‘thou art a friend to
the unfortunate. Dismiss me at once, and let me speed on.’
“‘Dine with us first,’ said the forester, ‘and freely shalt thou
depart.’ A cloth was spread beneath the shady branches, and covered with
a profusion of the most delicious viands. Rhenish wine also, and ale
plentifully abounded, and with cheerful hearts about twenty yeomen seated
themselves around. ‘Eat gladly, sir knight,’ said Robin Hood; ‘here’s to
thy health, and a more merry countenance;’ and as he spake he tossed off
the contents of a goblet.
“‘Thanks, thanks, my noble host,’ replied the stranger; ‘it grieves me
that I shall ne’er be able to return thy goodness.’
“‘Truly, good sir, thou look’st but grievous,’ answered the outlaw. ‘Tell
me, is there aught in which my services can avail thee; what is the cause
of thy deep sorrow?’
“‘I have lost land and gold,’ returned the knight, ‘and I fear that my
good name must follow them.’ His tears burst out afresh. ‘They call me,’
he continued, ‘Sir Rychard o’ the Lee. I am sprung of noble blood, and
for these last three hundred years have mine ancestors wore spurs. Twelve
short months ago I had a noble house and fine estate, with four hundred
pounds a year; but now, except my lovely wife and my sweet children, I
have nothing in the world.’
“‘How hast thou lost thy riches?” inquired Robin Hood anxiously.
“‘’Tis a short story,’ replied the knight; ‘I fought in a fair field with
a knight of Lancashire, and slew him. To save my liberty, I mortgaged
the broad lands of Wierysdale to St. Mary’s Abbey, and if I pay not the
amount to-morrow, my castle will be forfeited.’
“‘What is the sum thou owest, and what wilt thou do if thou losest thy
land?’ asked the outlaw.
“‘Four hundred golden pounds must I pay, if I would keep fair
Wierysdale,’ he replied. ‘I go to beg grace for another year; if the holy
abbot will not grant it, I must flee away across the broad seas to a
country where they know me not.’
“‘Where are thy friends?’ asked Little John; ‘will they not be security
for thee?’
“‘Alas,’ replied Sir Rychard, ‘when I had money and house, and lands, I
lacked not friends, but now my oldest companions turn from me as a herd
of deer would from a poor wounded hart. My only trust is in God and the
blessed saints.’
“‘Will Peter, or Paul, or John, be surety for thee?’ asked the outlaw.
‘By my troth, good sir, thou must find wealthier friends than they.’
“‘I have none other,’ replied the knight mournfully, ‘except it be the
Blessed Mary, who in all my trials has never failed me.’
“‘Thou hast indeed a good friend,’ said Robin Hood; ‘and if thou wilt
swear by our dear Lady that in twelve months from this day it shalt be
restored to me, I will lend thee what thou wantest.’ The knight fell upon
his knees, gave the required promise, and drawing forth a silver image of
the Virgin, he devoutly kissed it.
“In the meanwhile Little John had gone to the outlaws’ treasury, and now
returned with a heavy bag. He quickly counted out four hundred pieces of
gold and offered them to the knight, with a beautiful doublet of scarlet
cloth. These he readily accepted. At Robin Hood’s bidding, a gallant
grey steed with rich housings was next brought forth, and after having
received a pair of golden spurs from the hands of the noble outlaw, the
knight vaulted into the saddle.
“‘’Twould be a shame,’ said Robin Hood, ‘that so well equipped a knight
should ride without esquire; ‘I will lend thee my brave man, Little John,
until thou gettest a yeoman for thy service.’ The forester willingly
agreed, and mounting a stout palfrey, he was soon ready to accompany his
new master. With tears of joy instead of sorrow, the knight bade farewell
to his kind and generous host, struck his spurs into his new charger, and
followed by Little John, galloped swiftly over the plain.
“On the morning after this adventure, the holy superior of St. Mary’s
Abbey, in the old city of York, was seated in his hall, attended by
several of the monks.
“‘Upon this day twelve months ago,’ said he to his attentive listeners,
‘there came a knight who borrowed four hundred pounds, upon the security
of his lands and castle. The hour is near at hand; unless he appear and
pay the money before yon glass has run, the fair lands of Wierysdale will
belong to this sanctuary.’
“‘It is early yet, holy father,’ replied the prior; ‘the poor man may be
in a far country, and it would be hard to use him thus harshly. Methinks
thy conscience, my lord abbot, would but ill bear so rude a treatment to
an unfortunate knight.’
“‘Thou art ever in my beard,’ exclaimed the superior angrily. ‘By all the
saints I swear that, unless the knight of Wierysdale appear ere the sun
has set, he shall be disinherited.’
“‘He is either dead or he cannot pay,’ said a fat monk, who was high
cellarer, ‘and St. Mary’s Abbey will be enriched with a goodly sum. Shall
I not seek the lord justice, holy father, and bid him attend to prepare
deeds for the transfer of the land.’
“‘Yea, brother,’ replied the abbot; ‘’tis but lost time to wait for our
debtor, therefore use despatch, good brother—use despatch.’ The cellarer
left the room as quickly as his fat limbs would carry him, and in less
than an hour returned with the lord chief justice.
“In the mean time Sir Rychard o’ the Lee and his esquire had arrived
in York, and taken up their abode at an inn. After they had rested for
awhile from the fatigue of their journey, they dressed themselves in
their sorriest habiliments, and set out to the abbey. Upon knocking at
the great gates, they were immediately admitted, and conducted into
a lofty and spacious room, whose high pointed roof ornamented with
grotesque images, narrow Gothic windows, and beautifully tesselated
pavement, combined to strike the beholder with admiration, and increase
his reverence for the inmates of such a noble dwelling.
“The knight and his attendant doffed their caps and bowed low as they
entered the hall, and advanced to the upper end, where, upon a carved
oaken throne, sat the abbot of St. Mary’s, with the lord chief justice of
York by his side.
“‘God save thee, holy father,’ said the knight, as he kneeled before him;
‘I have attended thee this day as thou didst bid me.’
“‘Hast thou brought any money, sir knight?’ asked the priest in a harsh
tone.
“‘Not one penny,’ replied the suppliant. ‘I am come to beg that thou
wilt extend the time of payment for one more year.’
“‘That is unfortunate,’ rejoined the abbot, with difficulty repressing
his delight at the intelligence. ‘The day is nearly gone, and unless
thou canst pay down four hundred pounds ere the setting of the sun, thy
lands must pass to the accruement of St. Mary’s Abbey. Sir justice,’ he
continued, looking askance, ‘here’s to thee;’ and in the height of his
satisfaction he emptied a goblet of wine at a single draught.
“‘Good sir justice,’ said the knight imploringly, ‘wilt thou not assist
me in my distress. Day by day will I serve thee until I have repaid thy
goodness.’
“‘Nay, sir,’ returned the justice, ‘I cannot do it if I had the will.’
‘Give him two hundred pounds more, holy father, and the good knight will
sign thee a release of the lands that he can no longer claim.’
“‘Never,’ replied the knight fiercely, as he started to his feet.
‘Merciless tyrants as ye are, ye get not my lands thus. Never shall monk
or friar be heir to Wierysdale.’
“‘What,’ cried the priest, rising from his seat; ‘darest thou beard the
abbot of St. Mary’s; out upon thee for a false knight, thy castle is no
longer thine.’
‘Thou liest,’ returned the knight, stamping his heel upon the pavement
until it rung again: ‘never was I false. I’ve stood in tournaments
against noble earls and greater men than thou, and have oft proved myself
a true knight and good. Take back thy gold,’ he continued, as he poured
out the contents of his purse at the abbot’s feet; ‘and think not that
thou canst so easily get the fair lands of Wierysdale. Hadst thou shown
courtesy to a suppliant knight, thou should’st have had recompense.’ Then
snatching away the papers which the justice had before him, Sir Rychard
darted a look of defiance at the abbot, and with a firm step departed
from the hall, leaving the holy father overwhelmed with astonishment,
disappointment, and regret.
[Illustration: THE KNIGHT OF WIERYSDALE