IN MERRY ENGLAND in the time of old, when good King Henry the Second
ruled the land, there lived within the green glades of Sherwood Forest,
near Nottingham Town, a famous outlaw whose name was Robin Hood. No
archer ever lived that could speed a gray goose shaft with such skill
and cunning as his, nor were there ever such yeomen as the sevenscore
merry men that roamed with him through the greenwood shades. Right
merrily they dwelled within the depths of Sherwood Forest, suffering
neither care nor want, but passing the time in merry games of archery or
bouts of cudgel play, living upon the King's venison, washed down with
draughts of ale of October brewing.
Not only Robin himself but all the band were outlaws and dwelled apart
from other men, yet they were beloved by the country people round about,
for no one ever came to jolly Robin for help in time of need and went
away again with an empty fist.
And now I will tell how it came about that Robin Hood fell afoul of the
law.
When Robin was a youth of eighteen, stout of sinew and bold of heart,
the Sheriff of Nottingham proclaimed a shooting match and offered a
prize of a butt of ale to whosoever should shoot the best shaft in
Nottinghamshire. "Now," quoth Robin, "will I go too, for fain would I
draw a string for the bright eyes of my lass and a butt of good October
brewing." So up he got and took his good stout yew bow and a score
or more of broad clothyard arrows, and started off from Locksley Town
through Sherwood Forest to Nottingham.
It was at the dawn of day in the merry Maytime, when hedgerows are green
and flowers bedeck the meadows; daisies pied and yellow cuckoo buds and
fair primroses all along the briery hedges; when apple buds blossom and
sweet birds sing, the lark at dawn of day, the throstle cock and cuckoo;
when lads and lasses look upon each other with sweet thoughts; when busy
housewives spread their linen to bleach upon the bright green grass.
Sweet was the greenwood as he walked along its paths, and bright the
green and rustling leaves, amid which the little birds sang with might
and main: and blithely Robin whistled as he trudged along, thinking of
Maid Marian and her bright eyes, for at such times a youth's thoughts
are wont to turn pleasantly upon the lass that he loves the best.
As thus he walked along with a brisk step and a merry whistle, he came
suddenly upon some foresters seated beneath a great oak tree. Fifteen
there were in all, making themselves merry with feasting and drinking
as they sat around a huge pasty, to which each man helped himself,
thrusting his hands into the pie, and washing down that which they ate
with great horns of ale which they drew all foaming from a barrel that
stood nigh. Each man was clad in Lincoln green, and a fine show they
made, seated upon the sward beneath that fair, spreading tree. Then one
of them, with his mouth full, called out to Robin, "Hulloa, where goest
thou, little lad, with thy one-penny bow and thy farthing shafts?"
Then Robin grew angry, for no stripling likes to be taunted with his
green years.
"Now," quoth he, "my bow and eke mine arrows are as good as shine; and
moreover, I go to the shooting match at Nottingham Town, which same has
been proclaimed by our good Sheriff of Nottinghamshire; there I will
shoot with other stout yeomen, for a prize has been offered of a fine
butt of ale."
Then one who held a horn of ale in his hand said, "Ho! listen to the
lad! Why, boy, thy mother's milk is yet scarce dry upon thy lips, and
yet thou pratest of standing up with good stout men at Nottingham butts,
thou who art scarce able to draw one string of a two-stone bow."
"I'll hold the best of you twenty marks," quoth bold Robin, "that I hit
the clout at threescore rods, by the good help of Our Lady fair."
At this all laughed aloud, and one said, "Well boasted, thou fair
infant, well boasted! And well thou knowest that no target is nigh to
make good thy wager."