This evening we resumed our old seats under the sycamore tree in the
shrubbery, when I thus continued my tales:—
“After the departure of the knight of Wierysdale, Little John determined
upon seeking an adventure, that he might have something to boast of
among his companions, when he returned to Barnesdale woods. By chance he
learned that there was to be a grand archery meeting near Nottingham,
and that the high sheriff was to award a prize to the best marksman.
Without delay, he rode across the country bypaths which no one but a
daring forester would have chosen, and upon the next morning reached the
appointed ground, just as the sports were about to commence.
“The best bowmen of the county had entered the lists, and as a silver
bugle-horn was to be awarded to the victor, each man had resolved to do
his best to gain it. Upon the appearance of the new competitor, they
looked at each other, and after whispering together, laughed at the
presumption of the stranger, who had dared to offer himself as their
rival. One by one the well-known and oft victorious archers advanced, and
shot their arrows so near the centre of the target that it was next to
impossible to say whose aim had been the truest; Little John shot last,
and with such success that his arrow knocked out one of the very nearest
of his opponents’. The sheriff, surprised at his dexterity, rode up,
examined the target and declared that he could not pronounce a decision.
At the suggestion of the forester, to whom the others now paid greater
respect, a thick white wand, which a ranger had been using to keep back
the spectators, was placed upright in the ground at twenty paces farther
distance. Again the sports began.—The Nottingham men supported their
reputation, and no less than three arrows stuck in the mark; the outlaw
fired last, and also hit the wand. These four again shot, when two of
the bowmen missed, and the contest remained to be decided between the
first marksman of Nottingham, and the bold stranger.
“The populace had often given vent to their admiration of such gallant
archery, by loud huzzas, but now a breathless silence prevailed. The
sheriff, anxious for the honour of his county, rode up and down in
a perfect fever of excitement, and spoke encouraging words to the
Nottingham champion. The man coolly took up his position and drew his bow
with the greatest care, but the shaft unfortunately flew half an inch
above the mark. Little John smiled, advanced and shot his arrow a third
time into the middle of the wand. A feeling of disappointment seemed to
spread over the spectators, and the defeated archer could ill conceal his
chagrin.
“‘Tell me, my good friend,’ said the sheriff as he rode up to the victor,
and presented him with the prize, ‘what name bearest thou? and what
country dost thou dwell in?’
“‘My name is Reynolde Grenelefe,’ replied the forester; ‘I was born and
bred in merry Holdernesse, and am now roving from town to town to seek a
better fortune.’
“‘By St. Hubert,’ rejoined the sheriff, ‘thou art the best archer that
e’er drew bow in Nottingham. Wilt dwell with me, and protect the king’s
deer from the cursed outlaws?’
“‘Willingly, an thou’lt pay me well,’ answered the forester boldly.
“‘Thou shalt have forty pounds a year, and three new suits of clothes,
and shalt dine every day off the king’s venison,’ said the sheriff.
“The artful forester readily agreed, and on the same day took up his
abode in his new master’s mansion, where he soon became on good terms
with all the household, except the steward, who took a mortal aversion to
him on account of his favour with their master. One day the sheriff went
out hunting early in the morning, leaving Reynolde Grenelefe asleep in
bed, where he lay until it was nearly noon; he then rose, and going to
the kitchen, asked the steward for his dinner.
“‘Thou lazy villain,’ he replied, ‘dost think thou hast earned it. By
my troth thou shalt have neither to eat nor drink till my lord hears of
thine idleness.’
“The forester laughed, and gave a stride towards the pantry door, but
the steward was too quick for him: he turned the key in the lock, pulled
it out, and placed it in his pocket. Without a word the outlaw stepped
up and struck him with his open palm upon the ear, and the poor steward,
stunned with the shock, fell heavily down. Reynolde then spurned the door
with his foot, bursting lock and bar asunder, and entering the pantry,
he found a goodly venison pasty and a bottle of strong ale, upon which,
without either grace or ceremony, he began a most furious attack. While
he was thus busy the cook came in, and seeing the steward lying on the
floor, and the new servant devouring the contents of the pantry, he soon
guessed the true state of the matter. Arming himself with a huge rolling
pin, he crept quietly towards the offender, and before he could protect
himself, struck him upon the back of his head; the outlaw well nigh
fell, but catching at a board, he sustained himself, and then drawing
his sword, rushed at his cowardly antagonist. For full an hour did they
thump and belabour each other till they could scarcely stand. ‘Give
me thy hand,’ cried Reynolde, dropping his sword. ‘Thou art a valiant
fellow, and ’twere pity to break thy bones. Come with me to the woods; I
am one of Robin Hood’s men, and if thou’lt join us we’ll give thee a suit
of Lincoln green, and teach thee the merry life of a forester.’
“The cook consented; and after breaking open their master’s treasury
and seizing upon all the silver plate and money that it contained, the
treacherous servants left the house, and mounting two of the finest
horses in the sheriff’s stable, galloped off with their booty to
Barnesdale forest.
“Welcome, my brave yeoman. Where hast thou tarried?’ exclaimed Robin
Hood, as Little John presented himself and his companion before the
gallant captain. ‘And who bringest thou to the green-wood?’
“‘Thou shalt hear all, good master,’ replied the tall forester. ‘Thy
worthy friend, the sheriff of Nottingham, hath sent thee his cook, his
silver chalices, and three hundred golden pounds:’ and he related the
story of his adventures with the greatest glee, while Robin Hood, who
owed the poor sheriff many a grudge, laughed till the tears ran down his
cheeks, and he was obliged to throw himself upon the grass from sheer
exhaustion.
“Just as Little John was concluding his narration, a huntsman’s bugle
sounded in the distance. He stopped and listened for a moment. ’Tis my
dear master’s horn,’ he exclaimed; ‘I must away to him;’ and darting
through the woods, he ran over hill and dale until he reached the spot
where the sheriff of Nottingham and his attendants were beating among the
thickets in search of game.
“‘Ha! Reynolde Grenelefe,’ he exclaimed, as his servant stood before him,
‘where hast thou been?’
“‘Roving through the forest, good master,’ replied Reynolde; ‘and by my
troth I have beheld the strangest sight that mortal eyes e’er saw. In
yon dense wood is a fine stag, whose hide is of a bright green colour,
and a herd of seven-score more lie scattered around him. His horns are
so large and sharp that I dare not shoot for fear that he might rush at
me and tear me, and hearing thy bugle-horn, I have hastened to tell
thee of so strange a creature.’ The sheriff, filled with wonder, desired
to be immediately conducted to the animal, and the outlaw started off
again at his full speed, followed by his master until they arrived at the
spot where Robin Hood was still lying upon the turf. ‘This is the hart,
good master,’ said Little John, pointing to his captain; ‘and there is
the gallant herd;’ and he directed the sheriff’s attention to a band of
yeomen who were reclining under the shade of some neighbouring trees.
“‘Thou hast betrayed me,’ he cried, drawing his sword, and biting his
lips with rage. ‘Thus shalt thou suffer for thy treachery;’ and he struck
a fierce blow at his conductor.
“‘Calm thee, good master,’ exclaimed Little John, nimbly avoiding the
weapon. ‘Thou hast given me many a good dinner, and now thou shalt have
a jovial supper in return.’ Two foresters advanced, and gently disarmed
the still threatening prisoner, who very quietly suffered himself to
be seated at a well spread cloth. At the entreaty of the outlaws he
began to eat; but when Little John brought him wine in his own cup, his
mortification was so great that he could not swallow another morsel. The
foresters pressed him so much the more, and laughed loud and long at his
rueful countenance, while two or three sang ballads celebrating their own
victory over the sheriff of Nottingham.
“The poor man could endure the scene no longer. He started to his feet,
and would gladly have made his escape, but his flight was arrested.
‘For one night, sir sheriff, thou shalt be an outlaw like us,’ said
Robin Hood to him. ‘Thou shalt have thy couch under the green trees of
Barnesdale, and if on the morrow thou likest thy fare, we will give
thee a green mantle, and teach thee to shoot the grey goose-wing.’
Night drew on; the foresters, wrapping themselves in their cloaks, laid
themselves down under the most shady trees, and binding their prisoner,
that he might not escape during the darkness, compelled him to share
their broad couch. All night long he tossed about and groaned, and when,
oppressed with weariness, he at length fell asleep, dreams of the most
hideous nature wakened him to fresh torment. The darkness seemed to him
interminable; but at length the sun rose, and the foresters one and all
roused themselves from their slumbers. ‘Hast thou passed a good night,
sir sheriff?’ asked Robin Hood. ‘How likest thou our downy beds?’
“‘The beasts of the field lie more softly,’ replied the sheriff. ‘Rather
than make me pass another night like this, I pray thee send an arrow
through my heart, and I’ll forgive thee. But wherefore dost thou detain
me? I have no gold, and that traitor Reynolde Grenelefe has robbed me of
what I possessed at home. Suffer me to go and I will be thy best friend
to my dying day.’
“‘Swear that thou wilt never harm the foresters of Barnesdale,’ replied
Robin Hood, ‘and thou shalt depart;’ and he presented the cross of his
sword to the sheriff’s lips.
“He took the oath, and the outlaw immediately cut his bonds; then
ordering his horse to be brought, he helped the anxious sheriff to his
saddle, and bade him a merry ride. The goaded steed flew along the narrow
pathway, and quickly emerging from the woods, bore his glad rider home to
Nottingham.
“A twelvemonth was nearly elapsed since Robin Hood had lent the four
hundred pounds to the knight of Wierysdale, and but two days yet remained
to Lammas-tide, when the money would become due.
“By economy and service in arms the worthy knight had been enabled to
save much more than the required sum. He purchased a hundred tough yew
bows, with strings of twisted silk, a hundred beautiful quivers, well
stored with arrows, each of which was notched with silver, feathered with
the plume of a peacock, and tipped with a head of burnished gold; and
mounted on the outlaw’s steed, he set out to Barnesdale wood, followed by
a troop of his attendants, bearing the weapons of the chase before them.
“On his way the knight passed through a little town, where the
inhabitants were celebrating a rural fair. The banks of a stream, over
which he crossed by a rustic wooden bridge, were crowded with gaily
dressed peasants, anxious to purchase the rare commodities which they
were able only once a year to procure at this long-expected mart. There
were tents of blue, and white, and crimson cloths, and long streaming
banners floated proudly above them. There were open stalls too, and rich
displays of costly goods, and the busy throngs, as they incessantly
poured on and on, seemed full of merriment and gladness. It was a joyous
scene, and the knight gazed upon it with heart-felt pleasure. He wished
to join in it, but he remembered that the day was close at hand when he
had promised repayment to the generous outlaw, and he struck his spurs
into his charger’s sides. He had proceeded but a short way, when a loud
noise broke upon the distant murmur that had hitherto reached him from
the meadows, and caused him again to draw his rein. It seemed like the
quarrelling of men in angry strife, and every moment it grew louder and
louder. ‘There may be need of our assistance,’ said the knight to his
followers; and he instantly galloped to the spot whence the confusion
arose. At the sight of a band of armed horsemen the crowd became calm,
and opened a passage-way.
“‘What means this uproar?’ asked the leader. ‘Are ye not celebrating
games of joy and peace?’ A dead silence prevailed. ‘Tell me, my friend,’
he continued, addressing one who stood nearest him, ‘why are ye thus at
variance?’
“‘Yon stranger,’ replied the man, pointing to a gallant looking yeoman
who rested upon his bow, apart from the rest;—‘Yon stranger has borne off
every prize this day. We know him not; and think ’tis unfair that the
best men in our county should get no victory.’
“‘Come hither, sirrah,’ cried the knight to the offender. ‘Who art thou
that darest to shoot and wrestle better than any man in Nottinghamshire?’
“The yeoman stepped forward boldly:—‘What can it matter, sir knight, who
I am?’ he replied. ‘I’ve won the prizes, and have a right to them, but
these poor clowns cannot stomach a heavy fall, or my arrow in the centre
of their bull’s eye.’
“‘Shame on ye, my friends; would ye wrong a victor of his lawful reward?’
exclaimed the knight, turning to the multitude. ‘Where are the prizes?’
An old man advanced, and taking the horseman’s bridle, led him to a tent,
where were spread upon the grass a handsome saddle and bridle, ornamented
with gold, the prize of the swiftest runner; a finely carved bow, and
an arrow, three feet long, of the purest white silver, to be given to
the truest marksman; and a pipe of the best Rhenish wine to be awarded
to him who should gain the day at wrestling. All these had the stranger
indubitably won; but when he demanded them, the disappointment of the
native peasants broke out into loud murmurings, and as few espoused the
cause of the victor, it had well nigh gone hard with him. Staves had
been brought into play, and more than one sword had been drawn, when the
arrival of the knight and his attendants quieted the tumult.
“‘Hast thou a steed to bear this goodly saddle?’ said the knight to the
stranger; ‘and how wilt thou carry off this pipe of wine?’
“‘I came a-foot,’ replied the man; ‘but rather than leave so brave a
prize, I will bear the saddle on my own back; as for the cask, these good
peasants are welcome to it.’
“‘Thou’rt a noble fellow,’ returned the knight of Wierysdale, throwing
him a purse of gold. ‘There’s for thy wine, and if thou wilt follow me,
thou shalt have a charger for thy saddle.’ The yeoman readily complied.
One of the knight’s men dismounted, and gave up his horse to him; he
quickly clapped on his elegant furniture, and with the how at his back,
and quiver by his side, he sprung into the seat, and ranged himself with
the rest of the attendants. The noble intercessor next ordered that the
wine should be broached, and distributed to all who would partake of it.
The command was quickly obeyed, amidst the cheers of the peasants, who
soon forgot their previous quarrels and disappointments in the pleasures
of the jovial cup. The knight waved his hand to them and rode on, but he
had lost so much time at the fair, that the sun sank down long before he
reached the woods of Barnesdale, and he was obliged to halt at a little
cottage by the way-side.
“The morrow was Lammas-day; Robin Hood ordered a fat buck to be dressed,
and preparations made for his expected guest; but noon passed without any
appearance of him.
“‘Go thou,’ said the outlaw to his favourite attendant, ‘and see if thou
canst espy this slothful knight. Take Will Scarlet and the Miller’s Son
with thee, and if his faithful surety send any over-burdened travellers
to pay my debt, bring them hither. But, I charge ye, if a poor man, or a
merry jester, or a damsel in distress pass by, help them to your utmost,
give them gold and assist them on their way.’
“The three foresters gladly obeyed, and soon reached the high road that
ran through the wood. Many a stout yeoman and honest peasant did they
encounter, and pass with a fair salutation, and one poor beggar, half
clothed in rags, they sent on his path rejoicing. As they reached the
summit of a hill, two monks riding upon palfreys, attended by about a
score armed men on foot, and six sumpter mules heavily laden, appeared
just ascending upon the opposite side.
“‘I’ll wager my best bow-string,’ exclaimed Little John, ‘that these
holy fathers have brought our captain’s money. Bend your bows, my lads,
and scatter the herd that follows them.’ The foresters let fly arrow
after arrow in such quick succession that the frightened travellers
turned and fled precipitately; the archers pursued, and soon gained upon
the fugitives, who one and all rushed into the woods, and endeavoured
to escape amid the concealment of the foliage. Those on foot soon
disappeared, but the two monks on their palfreys and the sumpter mules
were easily captured by the outlaws. They immediately tied the hands of
their prisoners behind them, and fastening the reins of their steeds
together, they drove them to the presence of the chief, who doffed his
cap, and advanced with great courtesy to meet his guests.
“‘I pray ye, holy fathers,’ he said to them, ‘take not offence at the
rough usage of my followers. I care not to dine unless in goodly company,
and therefore did they bring ye from your straight journeying.’ The monks
preserved a sullen silence, and suffered their bonds to be cut, and
themselves dismounted without speaking a word.
“‘Gramercy, good sirs,’ cried Robin Hood, ‘methinks ye have but a small
share of courtesy. What holy house do ye inhabit?’
“‘We are but poor brethren of St. Mary’s Abbey,’ replied one of the
monks, who was the high cellarer, ‘and were on our way to London to do
reverence to the pope’s legate, who has required our presence.’
“‘May his blessing attend ye,’ said the outlaw, in a mock solemn tone.
‘Come now, my good friends, the feast is spread, sit ye and make
merry.’ It is probable that in their present condition the monks would
have declined this request, had not the savoury odour that arose from
a smoking haunch of venison and a roasted wild swan smoothed down
their angry feelings. They were soon seated by the side of the gallant
forester; sparkling wine was brought, and the health of the pope’s legate
was drunk with great glee. The monks ate heartily, and quaffed many a cup
to their host and his merry men; forgetting, in their enjoyment, that
they would pay dearly for the treat. Robin Hood laughed and sang, and his
men trolled out their legendary ballads, till the sun had nearly reached
the horizon.
“‘I fear me,’ said the outlaw to Little John, ‘that our dear Lady is
wroth with us. The day is well nigh spent, and our four hundred pounds
are yet to come.’
“‘Ne’er fear,’ replied the tall forester. ‘These kind monks have brought
it, I dare swear—for they come from her holy abbey. Tell us, good
fathers, have ye not repayment for us from your sainted patroness?’
“‘We have heard naught of this before,’ replied the high cellarer.
‘We possess but twenty marks wherewith to defray the expenses of our
travelling. Let us away, kind sirs, or we shall ne’er reach Nottingham
this night.’
“‘If ye have but twenty marks,’ returned Robin Hood, ‘ye will have to beg
for charity ere ye reach your journey’s end. See, my bold Little John,
how much thou canst find in yonder heavy looking trunks. If ’tis as ye
say I will charge ye nothing for your feast; but if ye have a prize, ye
must e’en be content to part company with it.’
“Little John soon returned with the trunk upon his shoulders, and
spreading his mantle upon the grass, he poured out a heap of gold upon it.
“‘Good master, here are eight hundred pounds or more,’ he said, when
he had counted out some few pieces and divided the rest into similar
quantities. ‘By my troth thou could’st not have wished for better
payment.’
“The monks’ vexation was now at its height; they bit their lips and cast
anxious glances towards their palfreys.
“‘Ye will need some few of these,’ said Robin Hood, as he gave a handful
of golden pieces to each of them; ‘the patron saint of St. Mary’s has
sent us the rest as repayment for the money we lent to the knight
of Wierysdale.’ They eagerly clutched the offered gold, and without
opposition from the outlaws mounted their steeds with most surprising
celerity, and, leaving the sumpter mules behind them, rode off amid loud
shouts of laughter.
“The topmost branches of the trees alone were gilded with the rays of
the setting sun, and the foliage had begun to cast a deeper shade, when
a party of horsemen emerged from the woods upon the lawn where the bold
foresters were merrily regaling themselves at the expense of the poor
monks whom they had plundered.
“In an instant they started to their feet, and fifty shafts were levelled
at the intruders, but when the foremost rider leaped from his horse and
threw himself into the arms of Robin Hood, they easily recognised him as
Sir Rychard o’ the Lee.
“‘Welcome, sir knight, thrice welcome,’ exclaimed the outlaw. ‘Truly thou
look’st more merry than when last I saw thee in these woods? Hast thou
recovered thy fair domains?’
“‘Ten thousand thanks to thee, my noble, my generous friend,’ cried the
knight. ‘I still hold my fathers’ lands, and with the blessing of our
Lady, I am come to return the sum I borrowed of thee.’
“‘’Tis already paid, my gallant sir,’ returned Robin Hood. ‘Two monks
from the Abbey of the Holy Virgin have this day brought me back my gold
with interest; so keep thy money, and when thou seest a man in need,
remember Robin Hood.’
“‘Nay, thou wilt overwhelm me with thy kindness,’ replied the knight.
‘I would have been with thee ere the noon-tide, but yonder knave had
the audacity to win every prize at a village festival, and, had I not
interceded, he would have received but a sorry recompense for his
achievements.’
“‘Ha! hast thou one of my truest men among thy followers?’ exclaimed the
outlaw, as he recognised the victor. ‘George o’ the Green would have
stood toughly against a score of lazy peasants, methinks.’
“‘Yes, good master,’ joined in the forester; ‘but what can one arm do
against three-score? Of a truth I should have had a morning bath, an it
had not been for this gallant knight.’
“Robin Hood whispered a few words to Little John, who left them and
almost instantly returned with a bag of gold.
“‘Take this, good sir,’ said the chief outlaw, as he handed it to the
knight. ‘The monks of St. Mary’s paid me too much by four hundred
pounds. Thou canst not yet be rich; take it as a reward for thy generous
intercession.’
“The knight would have refused, but he knew that by so doing he should
displease his generous friend. ‘I accept thy gift,’ he replied. ‘One day
I may be able to repay thy goodness; till then I shall remain a heavy
debtor. But I entreat thee, receive this poor present as a humble tribute
of my gratitude;’ and at his command, his followers alighted from their
steeds, and laid the bows and quivers at the outlaw’s feet.
“The foresters all shouted for joy, as their chief distributed the
handsome gifts among them. Many started off at once to try their new
weapons; while the others resuming their seats upon the grass, helped the
knight and his followers with unbounded liberality, and passed the rest
of the evening in drinking and singing, till darkness closed upon their
gaiety. Couches of fern and dried rushes were prepared for the guests,
who slept soundly in the foresters’ rude bowers, until the bugle-horn
wakened them from their dreams, at the dawn of morning. The knight,
anxious to return to his lady, stayed not to break his fast: bidding
farewell to the kind outlaws, he sprung into his horse’s saddle, and with
his attendants rode off to his beloved home in Wierysdale.”