WHEN THE four yeomen had traveled for a long time toward Sherwood again,
high noontide being past, they began to wax hungry. Quoth Robin Hood, "I
would that I had somewhat to eat. Methinks a good loaf of white bread,
with a piece of snow-white cheese, washed down with a draught of humming
ale, were a feast for a king."
"Since thou speakest of it," said Will Scarlet, "methinks it would not
be amiss myself. There is that within me crieth out, 'Victuals, good
friend, victuals!'"
"I know a house near by," said Arthur a Bland, "and, had I but the
money, I would bring ye that ye speak of; to wit, a sweet loaf of bread,
a fair cheese, and a skin of brown ale."
"For the matter of that, thou knowest I have money by me, good master,"
quoth Little John.
"Why, so thou hast, Little John," said Robin. "How much money will it
take, good Arthur, to buy us meat and drink?"
"I think that six broad pennies will buy food enow for a dozen men,"
said the Tanner.
"Then give him six pennies, Little John," quoth Robin, "for methinks
food for three men will about fit my need. Now get thee gone, Arthur,
with the money, and bring the food here, for there is a sweet shade in
that thicket yonder, beside the road, and there will we eat our meal."
So Little John gave Arthur the money, and the others stepped to the
thicket, there to await the return of the Tanner.
After a time he came back, bearing with him a great brown loaf of bread,
and a fair, round cheese, and a goatskin full of stout March beer, slung
over his shoulders. Then Will Scarlet took his sword and divided
the loaf and the cheese into four fair portions, and each man helped
himself. Then Robin Hood took a deep pull at the beer. "Aha!" said he,
drawing in his breath, "never have I tasted sweeter drink than this."
After this no man spake more, but each munched away at his bread and
cheese lustily, with ever and anon a pull at the beer.
At last Will Scarlet looked at a small piece of bread he still held in
his hand, and quoth he, "Methinks I will give this to the sparrows." So,
throwing it from him, he brushed the crumbs from his jerkin.
"I, too," quoth Robin, "have had enough, I think." As for Little John
and the Tanner, they had by this time eaten every crumb of their bread
and cheese.
"Now," quoth Robin, "I do feel myself another man, and would fain enjoy
something pleasant before going farther upon our journey. I do bethink
me, Will, that thou didst use to have a pretty voice, and one that tuned
sweetly upon a song. Prythee, give us one ere we journey farther."
"Truly, I do not mind turning a tune," answered Will Scarlet, "but I
would not sing alone."
"Nay, others will follow. Strike up, lad," quoth Robin.
"In that case, 'tis well," said Will Scarlet. "I do call to mind a song
that a certain minstrel used to sing in my father's hall, upon occasion.
I know no name for it and so can give you none; but thus it is." Then,
clearing his throat, he sang:
"_In the merry blossom time,
When love longings food the breast,
When the flower is on the lime,
When the small fowl builds her nest,
Sweetly sings the nightingale
And the throstle cock so bold;
Cuckoo in the dewy dale
And the turtle in the word.
But the robin I love dear,
For he singeth through the year.
Robin! Robin!
Merry Robin!
So I'd have my true love be:
Not to fly
At the nigh
Sign of cold adversity_.
"_When the spring brings sweet delights,
When aloft the lark doth rise,
Lovers woo o' mellow nights,
And youths peep in maidens' eyes,
That time blooms the eglantine,
Daisies pied upon the hill,
Cowslips fair and columbine,
Dusky violets by the rill.
But the ivy green cloth grow
When the north wind bringeth snow.
Ivy! Ivy!
Stanch and true!
Thus I'd have her love to be:
Not to die
At the nigh
Breath of cold adversity_."
"'Tis well sung," quoth Robin, "but, cousin, I tell thee plain, I would
rather hear a stout fellow like thee sing some lusty ballad than a
finicking song of flowers and birds, and what not. Yet, thou didst sing
it fair, and 'tis none so bad a snatch of a song, for the matter of
that. Now, Tanner, it is thy turn."
"I know not," quoth Arthur, smiling, with his head on one side, like a
budding lass that is asked to dance, "I know not that I can match our
sweet friend's song; moreover, I do verily think that I have caught a
cold and have a certain tickling and huskiness in the windpipe."
"Nay, sing up, friend," quoth Little John, who sat next to him, patting
him upon the shoulder. "Thou hast a fair, round, mellow voice; let us
have a touch of it."
"Nay, an ye will ha' a poor thing," said Arthur, "I will do my best.
Have ye ever heard of the wooing of Sir Keith, the stout young Cornish
knight, in good King Arthur's time?"
"Methinks I have heard somewhat of it," said Robin; "but ne'ertheless
strike up thy ditty and let us hear it, for, as I do remember me, it is
a gallant song; so out with it, good fellow."
Thereupon, clearing his throat, the Tanner, without more ado, began to
sing: