Much go with thee, and walk up to the Sayles and so to Watling Street.
There wait for some strange guest whom it may very well chance you
will meet. Be it earl or baron, or abbot or knight, bring him here to
lodge; his dinner shall be ready for him."
So these three good yeomen, Little John, Will Scarlet, and Much went
off to the great high-road which is known as Watling Street, and there
they looked east and they looked west, but not a man could they see.
But as they looked in Barnsdale, by a little private path there came a
knight riding, whom they soon met. Very dreary and woebegone seemed
this traveller; one foot was in the stirrup, the other dangled
outside; his hood hung down over his eyes; his attire was poor and
shabby; no sorrier man than he ever rode on a summer's day.
Little John bent low in courtesy before him.
"Welcome, sir knight! Welcome to greenwood! I am right glad to see
you. My master hath awaited you fasting these three hours."
"Who is your master?" asked the knight.
"Robin Hood, sir," answered Little John.
"He is a brave yeoman; I have heard much good of him," said the
knight. "I will go in company with you, my comrades. My purpose was to
have dined to-day at Blyth or Doncaster."
So the knight went with the yeomen, but his face was still sad and
careworn, and tears often fell from his eyes. Little John and Will
Scarlet brought him to the door of the lodge in Barnsdale, where the
outlaws were staying at that time, and as soon as Robin saw him he
lifted his hood courteously, and bent low in token of respect.
"Welcome, sir knight, welcome. I am right glad to see you. I have
awaited you fasting, sir, for the last three hours."
"God save thee, good Robin, and all thy fair company," returned the
knight pleasantly.
Robin brought clear water from the well for the guest to wash himself
from the dust of travel, and then they sat down to dinner. The meal
was spread under the trees in the greenwood, and rarely had the
stranger seen a repast so amply furnished. Bread and wine they had in
plenty, and dainty portions of deer, swans and pheasants, plump and
tender, and all kinds of water-fowl from the river, and every sort of
woodland bird that was good for eating.
Robin heaped his guest's plate with choice morsels, and bade him fall
to merrily.
"Eat well, sir knight, eat well," he urged him.
"Thanks, thanks," said the knight. "I have not had such a dinner as
this for three weeks. If I come again into this country, Robin, I will
make as good a dinner for you as you have made for me."
"Thanks for my dinner, good knight, when I have it," returned the
outlaw. "I was never so greedy as to crave for dinner. But before you
go, would it not be seemly for you to pay for what you have eaten? It
was never the custom for a yeoman to pay for a knight."
"I have nothing in my coffers that I can proffer, for shame," said the
knight.
"Go, Little John, and look," said Robin. "Now swear to me that you are
telling the truth," he added to his guest.
"I swear to you, by heaven, I have no more than ten shillings," said
the knight.
"If you have no more than that I will not take one penny," said
Robin. "And if you have need of any more I will lend it you. Go now,
Little John, and tell me the truth. If there be no more than ten
shillings, not one penny of that will I touch."
Little John spread out his mantle on the ground ready to hold any
treasure he might find, but when lie looked in the knight's coifer he
saw nothing but one piece of money of the value of half a pound. He
left it lying where it was, and went to tell his master.
"What tidings, John?" asked Robin.
"Sir, the knight is true enough."
"Fill a cup with the best wine, and hand it first to the knight," said
Robin. "Sir, I much wonder that your clothing is so thin. Tell me one
thing, I pray. I trow you must have been made a knight by force, or
else you have squandered your means by reckless or riotous living?
Perhaps you have been foolish and thriftless, or else have lost all
your money in brawling and strife? Or possibly you have been a usurer
or a drunkard, or wasted your life in wickedness and wrong-doing?"
"I am none of those things, by heaven that made me," declared the
knight. "For a hundred years my ancestors have been knights. It has
often befallen, Robin, that a man may be disgraced, but God who waits
in heaven above can amend his state. Within two or three years, my
neighbours knew it well, I could spend with ease four hundred pounds
of good money. Now I have no goods left but my wife and my
children. God has ordained this until He see fit to better my
condition."
"In what manner did you lose your riches?" asked Robin.
"By my great folly and kindness," was the answer. "I had a son, who
should have been my heir. At twenty years old he could joust right
well in the field. Unhappily the luckless boy slew a knight of
Lancashire, and to pay the heavy penalty exacted from him to save his
rights I was forced to sell all my goods. Besides this, Robin, my
lands are pledged until a certain day to a rich abbot living close by
here at St. Mary's Abbey."
"What is the sum?" asked Robin.
"Sir, four hundred pounds, which the abbot lent me."
"Now, if you lose your land what will become of you?" asked Robin.
"I will depart in haste over the salt sea to Palestine. Farewell,
friend, there is no better way." Tears filled the knight's eyes, and
he made a movement to go. "Farewell, friends, farewell! I have no more
that I can pay you."
But Robin stopped him as he would have gone.
"Where are your friends?" he asked.
"Sir, there are none who will know me now. When I was rich enough at
home they were glad to come and flatter me, but now they all run from
me. They take no more heed of me than if they had never seen me."
The knight's sorrowful story so touched the hearts of Little John and
Will Scarlet that they wept for pity.
"Come, fill of the best wine," cried Robin. "Come, sir, courage!
Never be downcast! Have you any friends from whom you can borrow?"
"None," replied the knight.
"Come forth, Little John, and go to my treasury," said Robin. "Bring
me four hundred pounds, and look that you count it out carefully."
Then forth went Little John, and with him went Will Scarlet, and he
counted out four hundred pounds. But Much, the miller's son, did not
look very well pleased to see all this money going into the hands of a
stranger.
"Is this wisely done?" he muttered.
"What grieves you?" said Little John. "It is alms to help a noble
knight who has fallen into poverty. Master," he went on to Robin Hood,
"his clothing is full thin; you must give the knight a suit of raiment
to wrap himself in. For you have scarlet and green cloth, master, and
plenty of rich apparel. I dare well say there is no merchant in
England who has a finer store."
"Give him three yards of cloth of every colour," said Robin Hood, "and
see that it be well meted out."
Little John took no other measure than his bow, and every handful he
measured he leapt over three feet.
"What devilkin's draper do you think you are?" asked little Much in
half-angry astonishment.
Will Scarlet stood still and laughed.
"John may well give him good measure," he said. "It cost _him_ but
light."
Little John paid no heed to their scoffing, but quietly went on with
his task.
"Master," he said to Robin Hood, when he had put aside a bountiful
store for their guest, "you must give the knight a horse to carry home
all these goods."
"Give him a grey courser, and put a new saddle on it," said Robin.
"And a good palfrey as befits his rank," added little Much.
"And a pair of boots, for he is a noble knight," said Will Scarlet.
"And what will you give him, Little John?" asked Robin.
"Sir, a pair of shining gilt spurs to pray for all this company. God
bring him safely out of all his trouble."
The poor knight scarcely knew how to thank them for all their
goodness.
"When shall the day be for me to pay back the money you have lent me?"
he said. "What is your will?"
"This day twelve-month under this greenwood tree," said Robin. "It
were a great shame," he added, "for a knight to ride alone without
squire, yeomen, or page to walk by his side. I will lend you my man,
Little John, to be your lad. He may stand you in yeoman stead if ever
you are in need."
As the knight went on his way he thought how well matters had happened
for him, and when he looked on Barnsdale be blessed Robin Hood. And
when he thought of Will Scarlet, Much, and Little John he blessed them
for the best company he had ever been in.
"To-morrow I must go to York town to St. Mary's Abbey," he said to
Little John, "and to the abbot of that place I have to pay four
hundred pounds. If I am not there by to-morrow night my lands will be
lost for ever."
The next day he strode out of the abbot's hall, all his care gone; he
flung off his worn raiment, put on his good clothing, and left the
other lying where it fell. He went forth singing merrily, back to his
own home at Wierysdale, and his lady met him at the gate.
"Welcome, my lord," said his wife. "Sir, are all your possessions
lost?"
"Be merry, dame," said the knight, "and pray for Robin Hood that his
soul may always dwell in bliss. He helped me out of my distress; had
it not been for his kindness we should have been beggars. The abbot
and I are in accord; he is served with his money; the good yeoman lent
it me as I came by the way."
* * * * * *
The good knight, whose name was Sir Richard Lee, dwelt in prosperity
at home till he had four hundred pounds all ready to pay back Robin
Hood. He provided himself with a hundred bows made with the best
string, and a hundred sheaves of good arrows with brightly burnished
heads. Every arrow was an ell long, well dressed with peacock's
feathers, and they were all inlaid with silver so that it was a goodly
sight to see. The knight provided himself also with a hundred men,
well armed, and clothed in white and red, and in the same fashion he
attired himself. He bore a lance in his hand, and a man led the horse
which carried his change of apparel. And thus he rode with a light
heart to Barnsdale.
As he drew near a bridge he was forced to tarry awhile, for there was
a great wrestling, and all the best yeomen of the West Country had
flocked to it. A good game had been arranged, and valuable prizes
were offered. A white bull had been put up, and a great courser, with
saddle and bridle all burnished with gold, a pair of gloves, a red
gold ring, and a pipe of wine in prime condition. The man who bore
himself the best would carry off the prize.
Now there was a certain worthy yeoman there who ought by rights to
have been awarded the prize, but because he was a stranger the other
wrestlers were jealous, and all set on him unfairly. As he was far
from home and had no friends there, he would certainly have been slain
if it had not been for the knight who, from the place where he stood,
saw what was going on. He took pity on the yeoman, and swore no harm
should be done to him, for the love he bore to Robin Hood. He pressed
forward into the place, and his hundred archers followed him, with
bows bent and sharp arrows to attack the crowd. They shouldered every
one aside, and made room for Sir Richard Lee to make known what he had
to say.
Then the knight took the yeoman by the hand, and declared he had
fairly won the prize. He bought the wine from him for five marks, and
bade that it should be broached at once, and that every one who wished
should have a draught. Thus good humour and jollity were restored, and
the rest of the sports went on merrily.
The knight tarried till the games were done, and in the meanwhile it
came to be three hours after noon. And all this time Robin had waited
fasting for the coming of the knight to whom twelve months before he
had lent the four hundred pounds.
LITTLE JOHN AND THE SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM
Retold by Mary Macleod
It will be remembered that when the poor knight left Robin Hood in the
forest Little John went with him to act as his yeoman. He stayed for
some time in Sir Richard's service, and a light and pleasant post he
found it, for he was free to do pretty much as he liked.
It happened one fine day that the young men of Nottingham were eager
to go shooting, so Little John fetched his bow, and said he would meet
them in a trial of skill. While the match was going on, the Sheriff of
Nottingham chanced to pass, and he stood for a while near the marks to
watch the sport.
Three times Little John shot, and each time he cleft the wand.
"By my faith, this man is the best archer that ever I saw," cried the
sheriff. "Tell me now, my fine lad, what is your name? In what county
were you born, and where do you dwell?"
"I was born at Holderness," said Little John, "and when I am at home
men call me Reynold Greenleaf."
"Tell me, Reynold Greenleaf, will you come and live with me? I will
give you twenty marks a year as wages."
"I have a master already, a noble knight," answered Little John. "It
would be better if you would get leave of him."
The sheriff was so pleased with the prowess of Little John that he
wanted to get him into his own service, so he went to the knight, and
it was agreed the sheriff should have him for twelve months. Little
John was therefore given at once a strong horse, well equipped, and
now behold him the sheriff's man.
But Little John had not forgotten Robin Hood's words of warning about
the sheriff; he knew him to be a false and greedy man, and a ruthless
enemy to the outlaws, and Little John was always thinking how he could
pay him out for his treachery.
"By my loyalty and truth," said Little John to himself, "I will be the
worst servant to him that ever he had."
Little John soon found that his new place was little to his liking.
The other servants were not well pleased to see the newcomer; they
were jealous of the favour shown to him at first by his master, and
treated him with rudeness and contempt. The sheriff himself was very
mean; he wished to secure Little John for his service, for he knew
such a comely lad and fine archer would do him credit, but once he was
sure of him he paid no heed to seeing that he was properly lodged and
fed.
It happened one day the sheriff went out hunting, and Little John was
left at home forgotten. No meal was served to him, and he was left
fasting till noon. As he was by this time very hungry he went to the
steward, and asked civilly for something to eat.
"Good sir steward, I pray thee give me to dine," he said. "It is too
long for Greenleaf to be so long fasting, therefore I pray thee,
steward, give me my dinner."
"I've had no orders," said the steward rudely. "Thou shalt have
nothing to eat or to drink till my lord comes back to town."
"Rather than that I'll crack thy head," said Little John.
The steward started forward to the buttery, and shut fast the door,
but Little John gave him such a rap on his back it almost broke in
two--as long as he lived he would be the worse for the blow. Then
Little John put his foot to the door, and burst it open, and Little
John went in and helped himself plentifully to both ale and wine.
"Since you will not dine, I will give you to drink," he said to the
steward; "though you live for a hundred years you shall remember
Little John."
He ate and drank for as long as he chose, and the steward dared say
nothing, for he was still smarting from the blow. But the sheriff had
in his employ a cook, a bold, sturdy man, and he was no coward either.
"A fine sort of fellow you are to dwell in a house and ask for dinner
thus," he cried, and he dealt Little John three good blows.
"I vow I am very well pleased with those strokes of yours," said
Little John, "and before I leave this place you shall be tested
better."
He drew his good sword, and the cook seized another, and they went for
each other then and there. Neither had any thought of giving in, but
both meant to resist stoutly. There they fought sorely for a whole
hour, and neither could in any way harm the other.
"Thou art truly one of the very best swordsmen that ever I saw," said
Little John. "Couldst thou shoot as well with a bow thou shouldst go
with me to the greenwood. Thou wouldst have from Robin Hood twenty
marks a year as wages, and a change of clothing twice a year."
"Put up thy sword, and we will be comrades," said the cook.
He fetched at once for Little John a right good meal--dainty venison,
good bread, and excellent wine--and they both ate and drank heartily.
When they had well feasted they plighted their troth together that
they would be with Robin that self-same night. Then they ran as fast
as they could to the sheriff's treasury, and though the locks were of
good steel they broke them every one. They carried off all the silver
plate--vessels, dishes, gold pieces, cups, and spoons, nothing was
forgotten.
They took also the money--three hundred and three pounds--and then
they went off straight to Robin Hood in the forest.
"God save thee, my dear master," cried Little John.
"Welcome art thou, and also that fair yeoman whom thou bringest with
thee," said Robin Hood. "What tidings from Nottingham, Little John?"
"The proud sheriff greeteth thee well, and sendeth you here by me his
cook and his silver vessels and three hundred and three pounds," said
Little John.
"I dare take my oath it was never by his good will these goods come to
me," laughed Robin.
Thus they all made merry in the greenwood, and said the sheriff had
been rightly paid for the greed and tyranny with which he performed
the duties of his office, for by bribery and oppression he had got his
ill-earned wealth.
Presently Little John bethought him of a shrewd device by which they
could still further get the better of him. He ran into the forest here
and there, and when he had gone about five miles it fell out as he
wished; he came across the sheriff himself hunting with hound and
horn. Little John was mindful of his manners, and went and knelt on
his knee before him, and saluted him courteously.
"Why, Reynold Greenleaf, where hast thou been now?" cried the sheriff.
"I have been in the forest," said Little John, "and there I have seen
a wondrous sight, one of the finest I ever yet saw. Yonder I saw a
right gallant hart; his colour is green. Seven score of deer in a herd
altogether are with him. His antlers are so sharp, master, I durst not
shoot, for dread lest they should slay me."
"By heaven, I would fain see that sight," said the sheriff.
"Turn thy steps thither, then, at once, dear master," said Little
John. "Come with me; I will show you where he lies."
The sheriff rode off, and Little John ran beside him, for he was full
smart of foot. Through the forest they went, and by-and-by they came
to Robin Hood in the midst of his band of yeomen.
"Lo, there is the master hart," said Little John. The sheriff stood
still in dismay, and he was a sorry man.
"Woe worth thee, Reynold Greenleaf, thou hast betrayed me."
"Ye are to blame, master, I swear," said Little John. "When I was at
home with you I was misserved of my dinner."
Then the outlaws made their guest sit down to supper with them, which
he did with no good will, for he would fain have departed to his home
at Nottingham. He was served on his own silver dishes, and when he saw
his beautiful cups and vessels the sheriff for sorrow could not eat.
"Cheer up, sheriff," urged Robin Hood. "For the sake of Little John
thy life is granted thee. What, man, eat and be merry! Here is fine
fat venison served in a goodly vessel."
By the time they had well supped, the day was done. Robin then bade
his men strip the sheriff of his fine clothes, his hose and his shoes,
his kirtle, and the large handsome coat all trimmed with fur--and to
give him in their place a green mantle to wrap himself in. He further
bade his sturdy lads all to lie round the sheriff in a circle under
the greenwood tree, so that he might see them, and know there was no
chance of escape.
It was a sorry night the sheriff passed, cold and shivering, in his
shirt and breeches, on the hard ground; small wonder that his bones
ached, and that he sighed piteously for his soft warm bed at home.
"Come, come, sheriff, cheer up!" said Robin; "for this is our order,
you know, under the greenwood tree."
"This is a harder order than any anchorite or friar!" groaned the
sheriff. "For all the gold in merry England I would not dwell here
long."
"Thou wilt dwell here with me for the next twelve months," said
Robin. "I shall teach thee, proud sheriff, to be an outlaw."
"Before I lie here another night, Robin, smite off my head rather, and
I'll forgive it thee," said the sheriff. "Let me go, for pity's sake!"
he begged, "and I will be the best friend that ever thou hadst."
"Before I let thee go, thou shalt swear me here an oath," said the
outlaw. "Swear on my sword that thou wilt never seek to do me harm by
water or by land. And if thou find any of my men, by night or by day,
thou shalt swear on thy oath to help them all thou canst."
There was no other way to get back his freedom, so the sheriff was
compelled to take the oath demanded by Robin. Then he was allowed to
depart, and he went back to Nottingham a sad and sorry man, feeling
that he had had more than enough of the greenwood to last him a very
long time.
HOW ROBIN HOOD WAS PAID HIS LOAN
Retold by Mary Macleod
Twelve months had come and gone since Robin Hood lent four hundred
pounds to the poor knight to redeem his land, and now the day had
arrived when he had promised to pay back the money.
The sheriff had returned to Nottingham, and Robin Hood and his merry
men were left in the greenwood.
"Let us go to dinner," said Little John.
"Nay, not yet," said Robin. "Now I fear our friend the knight is
likely to prove false, for he comes not to pay back the money,
according to his word."
"Have no doubt, master," said Little John, "for the sun has not yet
gone to rest."
"Take thy bow," said Robin, "and let Much and Will Scarlet go with
you, and walk up into the Sayles, and to Watling Street, and wait
there for some stranger guest, for you may well chance upon one
there. Whether he be messenger or mountebank, rich man or poor man, he
shall share dinner with me."
Forth then started Little John, half-angry and half-troubled, and
under his green mantle he girded on a good sword.
The three yeomen went up to the Sayles; they looked east and they
looked west, and not a man could they see.
But all the time Robin kept thinking of the knight who had promised to
return that day with the borrowed money.
"I marvel much he does not come," he said. "I fear he does not mean to
keep faith."
"Have no doubt, master," said Little John. "You have no need, I say."
Sir Richard Lee, meanwhile, who had tarried to see the wrestling, came
while it was still daylight to fulfil his promise. He went straight to
Barnsdale, and there he found Robin Hood and his band under the
greenwood tree. Directly the knight saw Robin, he dismounted from his
palfrey, and saluted him courteously on one knee.
"God save thee, good Robin Hood, and all this company."
"Welcome, welcome, noble knight," said Robin. "I pray thee tell me
what need driveth thee to greenwood? I am right glad to see thee. Why
hast thou been so long in coming?"
"The abbot and the high justice have been trying to get hold of my
land," said the knight.
"Hast thou thy land again?"
"Yea, and for that I thank God and thee. But take not offence that I
have come so late in the day. On my journey hither I passed by some
wrestling, and there I helped a poor yeoman who was being wrongly put
behind by the others."
"Nay, by my faith, for that I thank thee," said Robin. "The man that
helpeth a good yeoman, his friend will I be."
"Have here the four hundred pounds you lent me," said the knight, "and
here is also twenty marks for your courtesy."
"Nay, keep it and use it well yourself," said Robin, "and thou art
right welcome under my trysting-tree. But what are all those bows for,
and those finely feathered arrows?"
"They are a poor present to thee," said the knight.
Then Robin Hood bade Little John go to his treasury and fetch four
hundred pounds, and he insisted on the knight's accepting this money
as a gift.
"Buy thyself a good horse and harness, and gild thy spurs anew," he
said laughingly. "And if thou lack enough to spend come to Robin Hood,
and by my truth thou shalt never lack while I have any goods of my
own. Keep the four hundred pounds I lent thee, and I counsel thee
never leave thyself so bare another time."
So good Robin Hood relieved the gentle knight of all his care, and
they feasted and made merry under the greenwood tree.
THE GOLDEN ARROW
Retold by Mary Macleod
The knight took his leave and went on his way, and Robin Hood and his
merry men lived on for many a day in Barnsdale.