A LONG TIME passed after the great shooting match, and during that time
Robin followed one part of the advice of Sir Robert Lee, to wit, that of
being less bold in his comings and his goings; for though mayhap he may
not have been more honest (as most folks regard honesty), he took good
care not to travel so far from Sherwood that he could not reach it both
easily and quickly.
Great changes had fallen in this time; for King Henry had died and King
Richard had come to the crown that fitted him so well through many hard
trials, and through adventures as stirring as any that ever befell Robin
Hood. But though great changes came, they did not reach to Sherwood's
shades, for there Robin Hood and his men dwelled as merrily as they had
ever done, with hunting and feasting and singing and blithe woodland
sports; for it was little the outside striving of the world troubled
them.
The dawning of a summer's day was fresh and bright, and the birds sang
sweetly in a great tumult of sound. So loud was their singing that
it awakened Robin Hood where he lay sleeping, so that he stirred, and
turned, and arose. Up rose Little John also, and all the merry men;
then, after they had broken their fast, they set forth hither and
thither upon the doings of the day.
Robin Hood and Little John walked down a forest path where all around
the leaves danced and twinkled as the breeze trembled through them and
the sunlight came flickering down. Quoth Robin Hood, "I make my vow,
Little John, my blood tickles my veins as it flows through them this gay
morn. What sayst thou to our seeking adventures, each one upon his own
account?"
"With all my heart," said Little John. "We have had more than one
pleasant doing in that way, good master. Here are two paths; take thou
the one to the right hand, and I will take the one to the left, and then
let us each walk straight ahead till he tumble into some merry doing or
other."
"I like thy plan," quoth Robin, "therefore we will part here. But look
thee, Little John, keep thyself out of mischief, for I would not have
ill befall thee for all the world."
"Marry, come up," quoth Little John, "how thou talkest! Methinks thou
art wont to get thyself into tighter coils than I am like to do."
At this Robin Hood laughed. "Why, in sooth, Little John," said he, "thou
hast a blundering hard-headed way that seemeth to bring thee right side
uppermost in all thy troubles; but let us see who cometh out best this
day." So saying, he clapped his palm to Little John's and each departed
upon his way, the trees quickly shutting the one from the other's sight.
Robin Hood strolled onward till he came to where a broad woodland road
stretched before him. Overhead the branches of the trees laced together
in flickering foliage, all golden where it grew thin to the sunlight;
beneath his feet the ground was soft and moist from the sheltering
shade. Here in this pleasant spot the sharpest adventure that ever
befell Robin Hood came upon him; for, as he walked down the woodland
path thinking of nought but the songs of the birds, he came of a sudden
to where a man was seated upon the mossy roots beneath the shade of
a broad-spreading oak tree. Robin Hood saw that the stranger had not
caught sight of him, so he stopped and stood quite still, looking at the
other a long time before he came forward. And the stranger, I wot,
was well worth looking at, for never had Robin seen a figure like that
sitting beneath the tree. From his head to his feet he was clad in a
horse's hide, dressed with the hair upon it. Upon his head was a cowl
that hid his face from sight, and which was made of the horse's skin,
the ears whereof stuck up like those of a rabbit. His body was clad in
a jacket made of the hide, and his legs were covered with the hairy skin
likewise. By his side was a heavy broadsword and a sharp, double-edged
dagger. A quiver of smooth round arrows hung across his shoulders, and
his stout bow of yew leaned against the tree beside him.
"Halloa, friend," cried Robin, coming forward at last, "who art thou
that sittest there? And what is that that thou hast upon thy body? I
make my vow I ha' never seen such a sight in all my life before. Had I
done an evil thing, or did my conscience trouble me, I would be afraid
of thee, thinking that thou wast someone from down below bringing a
message bidding me come straightway to King Nicholas."
To this speech the other answered not a word, but he pushed the cowl
back from his head and showed a knit brow, a hooked nose, and a pair of
fierce, restless black eyes, which altogether made Robin think of a hawk
as he looked on his face. But beside this there was something about the
lines on the stranger's face, and his thin cruel mouth, and the hard
glare of his eyes, that made one's flesh creep to look upon.
"Who art thou, rascal?" said he at last, in a loud, harsh voice.
"Tut, tut," quoth merry Robin, "speak not so sourly, brother. Hast
thou fed upon vinegar and nettles this morning that thy speech is so
stinging?"
"An thou likest not my words," said the other fiercely, "thou hadst best
be jogging, for I tell thee plainly, my deeds match them."
"Nay, but I do like thy words, thou sweet, pretty thing," quoth Robin,
squatting down upon the grass in front of the other. "Moreover, I tell
thee thy speech is witty and gamesome as any I ever heard in all my
life."
The other said not a word, but he glared upon Robin with a wicked and
baleful look, such as a fierce dog bestows upon a man ere it springs at
his throat. Robin returned the gaze with one of wide-eyed innocence, not
a shadow of a smile twinkling in his eyes or twitching at the corners of
his mouth. So they sat staring at one another for a long time, until the
stranger broke the silence suddenly. "What is thy name, fellow?" said
he.
"Now," quoth Robin, "I am right glad to hear thee speak, for I began to
fear the sight of me had stricken thee dumb. As for my name, it may be
this or it may be that; but methinks it is more meet for thee to tell
me thine, seeing that thou art the greater stranger in these parts.
Prythee, tell me, sweet chuck, why wearest thou that dainty garb upon
thy pretty body?" At these words the other broke into a short, harsh
roar of laughter. "By the bones of the Daemon Odin," said he, "thou art
the boldest-spoken man that ever I have seen in all my life. I know not
why I do not smite thee down where thou sittest, for only two days ago I
skewered a man over back of Nottingham Town for saying not half so much
to me as thou hast done. I wear this garb, thou fool, to keep my body
warm; likewise it is near as good as a coat of steel against a common
sword-thrust. As for my name, I care not who knoweth it. It is Guy
of Gisbourne, and thou mayst have heard it before. I come from the
woodlands over in Herefordshire, upon the lands of the Bishop of that
ilk. I am an outlaw, and get my living by hook and by crook in a manner
it boots not now to tell of. Not long since the Bishop sent for me, and
said that if I would do a certain thing that the Sheriff of Nottingham
would ask of me, he would get me a free pardon, and give me tenscore
pounds to boot. So straightway I came to Nottingham Town and found my
sweet Sheriff; and what thinkest thou he wanted of me? Why, forsooth, to
come here to Sherwood to hunt up one Robin Hood, also an outlaw, and to
take him alive or dead. It seemeth that they have no one here to face
that bold fellow, and so sent all the way to Herefordshire, and to me,
for thou knowest the old saying, 'Set a thief to catch a thief.' As for
the slaying of this fellow, it galleth me not a whit, for I would shed
the blood of my own brother for the half of two hundred pounds."
To all this Robin listened, and as he listened his gorge rose. Well he
knew of this Guy of Gisbourne, and of all the bloody and murderous deeds
that he had done in Herefordshire, for his doings were famous throughout
all the land. Yet, although he loathed the very presence of the man, he
held his peace, for he had an end to serve. "Truly," quoth he, "I have
heard of thy gentle doings. Methinks there is no one in all the world
that Robin Hood would rather meet than thee."
At this Guy of Gisbourne gave another harsh laugh. "Why," quoth he, "it
is a merry thing to think of one stout outlaw like Robin Hood meeting
another stout outlaw like Guy of Gisbourne. Only in this case it will be
an ill happening for Robin Hood, for the day he meets Guy of Gisbourne
he shall die."
"But thou gentle, merry spirit," quoth Robin, "dost thou not think that
mayhap this same Robin Hood may be the better man of the two? I know
him right well, and many think that he is one of the stoutest men
hereabouts."
"He may be the stoutest of men hereabouts," quoth Guy of Gisbourne,
"yet, I tell thee, fellow, this sty of yours is not the wide world.
I lay my life upon it I am the better man of the two. He an outlaw,
forsooth! Why, I hear that he hath never let blood in all his life,
saving when he first came to the forest. Some call him a great archer;
marry, I would not be afraid to stand against him all the days of the
year with a bow in my hand."
"Why, truly, some folk do call him a great archer," said Robin Hood,
"but we of Nottinghamshire are famous hands with the longbow. Even I,
though but a simple hand at the craft, would not fear to try a bout with
thee."
At these words Guy of Gisbourne looked upon Robin with wondering eyes,
and then gave another roar of laughter till the woods rang. "Now," quoth
he, "thou art a bold fellow to talk to me in this way. I like thy spirit
in so speaking up to me, for few men have dared to do so. Put up a
garland, lad, and I will try a bout with thee."
"Tut, tut," quoth Robin, "only babes shoot at garlands hereabouts. I
will put up a good Nottingham mark for thee." So saying, he arose, and
going to a hazel thicket not far off, he cut a wand about twice
the thickness of a man's thumb. From this he peeled the bark, and,
sharpening the point, stuck it up in the ground in front of a great oak
tree. Thence he measured off fourscore paces, which brought him beside
the tree where the other sat. "There," quoth he, "is the kind of mark
that Nottingham yeomen shoot at. Now let me see thee split that wand if
thou art an archer."
Then Guy of Gisbourne arose. "Now out upon it!" cried he. "The Devil
himself could not hit such a mark as that."
"Mayhap he could and mayhap he could not," quoth merry Robin, "but that
we shall never know till thou hast shot thereat."
At these words Guy of Gisbourne looked upon Robin with knit brows, but,
as the yeoman still looked innocent of any ill meaning, he bottled his
words and strung his bow in silence. Twice he shot, but neither time did
he hit the wand, missing it the first time by a span and the second time
by a good palm's-breadth. Robin laughed and laughed. "I see now," quoth
he, "that the Devil himself could not hit that mark. Good fellow, if
thou art no better with the broadsword than thou art with the bow and
arrow, thou wilt never overcome Robin Hood."
At these words Guy of Gisbourne glared savagely upon Robin. Quoth he,
"Thou hast a merry tongue, thou villain; but take care that thou makest
not too free with it, or I may cut it out from thy throat for thee."
Robin Hood strung his bow and took his place with never a word, albeit
his heartstrings quivered with anger and loathing. Twice he shot, the
first time hitting within an inch of the wand, the second time splitting
it fairly in the middle. Then, without giving the other a chance for
speech, he flung his bow upon the ground. "There, thou bloody villain!"
cried he fiercely, "let that show thee how little thou knowest of manly
sports. And now look thy last upon the daylight, for the good earth hath
been befouled long enough by thee, thou vile beast! This day, Our Lady
willing, thou diest--I am Robin Hood." So saying, he flashed forth his
bright sword in the sunlight.
For a time Guy of Gisbourne stared upon Robin as though bereft of wits;
but his wonder quickly passed to a wild rage. "Art thou indeed Robin
Hood?" cried he. "Now I am glad to meet thee, thou poor wretch! Shrive
thyself, for thou wilt have no time for shriving when I am done with
thee." So saying, he also drew his sword.
And now came the fiercest fight that ever Sherwood saw; for each man
knew that either he or the other must die, and that no mercy was to be
had in this battle. Up and down they fought, till all the sweet green
grass was crushed and ground beneath the trampling of their heels. More
than once the point of Robin Hood's sword felt the softness of flesh,
and presently the ground began to be sprinkled with bright red drops,
albeit not one of them came from Robin's veins. At last Guy of Gisbourne
made a fierce and deadly thrust at Robin Hood, from which he leaped back
lightly, but in so leaping he caught his heel in a root and fell heavily
upon his back. "Now, Holy Mary aid me!" muttered he, as the other leaped
at him, with a grin of rage upon his face. Fiercely Guy of Gisbourne
stabbed at the other with his great sword, but Robin caught the blade in
his naked hand, and, though it cut his palm, he turned the point away so
that it plunged deep into the ground close beside him; then, ere a blow
could be struck again, he leaped to his feet, with his good sword in
his hand. And now despair fell upon Guy of Gisbourne's heart in a black
cloud, and he looked around him wildly, like a wounded hawk. Seeing that
his strength was going from him, Robin leaped forward, and, quick as a
flash, struck a back-handed blow beneath the sword arm. Down fell
the sword from Guy of Gisbourne's grasp, and back he staggered at the
stroke, and, ere he could regain himself, Robin's sword passed through
and through his body. Round he spun upon his heel, and, flinging his
hands aloft with a shrill, wild cry, fell prone upon his face upon the
green sod.
Then Robin Hood wiped his sword and thrust it back into the scabbard,
and, coming to where Guy of Gisbourne lay, he stood over him with folded
arms, talking to himself the while. "This is the first man I have slain
since I shot the Kings forester in the hot days of my youth. I ofttimes
think bitterly, even yet, of that first life I took, but of this I am as
glad as though I had slain a wild boar that laid waste a fair country.
Since the Sheriff of Nottingham hath sent such a one as this against me,
I will put on the fellow's garb and go forth to see whether I may not
find his worship, and perchance pay him back some of the debt I owe him
upon this score."
So saying, Robin Hood stripped the hairy garments from off the dead man,
and put them on himself, all bloody as they were. Then, strapping the
other's sword and dagger around his body and carrying his own in his
hand, together with the two bows of yew, he drew the cowl of horse's
hide over his face, so that none could tell who he was, and set forth
from the forest, turning his steps toward the eastward and Nottingham
Town. As he strode along the country roads, men, women, and children
hid away from him, for the terror of Guy of Gisbourne's name and of his
doings had spread far and near.
And now let us see what befell Little John while these things were
happening.
Little John walked on his way through the forest paths until he had
come to the outskirts of the woodlands, where, here and there, fields of
barley, corn, or green meadow lands lay smiling in the sun. So he came
to the highroad and to where a little thatched cottage stood back of
a cluster of twisted crab trees, with flowers in front of it. Here he
stopped of a sudden, for he thought that he heard the sound of someone
in sorrow. He listened, and found that it came from the cottage; so,
turning his footsteps thither, he pushed open the wicket and entered
the place. There he saw a gray-haired dame sitting beside a cold
hearthstone, rocking herself to and fro and weeping bitterly.
Now Little John had a tender heart for the sorrows of other folk, so,
coming to the old woman and patting her kindly upon the shoulder, he
spoke comforting words to her, bidding her cheer up and tell him her
troubles, for that mayhap he might do something to ease them. At all
this the good dame shook her head; but all the same his kind words did
soothe her somewhat, so after a while she told him all that bore upon
her mind. That that morning she had three as fair, tall sons beside her
as one could find in all Nottinghamshire, but that they were now taken
from her, and were like to be hanged straightway; that, want having
come upon them, her eldest boy had gone out, the night before, into the
forest, and had slain a hind in the moonlight; that the King's rangers
had followed the blood upon the grass until they had come to her
cottage, and had there found the deer's meat in the cupboard; that, as
neither of the younger sons would betray their brother, the foresters
had taken all three away, in spite of the oldest saying that he alone
had slain the deer; that, as they went, she had heard the rangers
talking among themselves, saying that the Sheriff had sworn that he
would put a check upon the great slaughter of deer that had been going
on of late by hanging the very first rogue caught thereat upon the
nearest tree, and that they would take the three youths to the King's
Head Inn, near Nottingham Town, where the Sheriff was abiding that day,
there to await the return of a certain fellow he had sent into Sherwood
to seek for Robin Hood.
To all this Little John listened, shaking his head sadly now and then.
"Alas," quoth he, when the good dame had finished her speech, "this is
indeed an ill case. But who is this that goeth into Sherwood after Robin
Hood, and why doth he go to seek him? But no matter for that now; only
that I would that Robin Hood were here to advise us. Nevertheless, no
time may be lost in sending for him at this hour, if we would save the
lives of thy three sons. Tell me, hast thou any clothes hereabouts that
I may put on in place of these of Lincoln green? Marry, if our stout
Sheriff catcheth me without disguise, I am like to be run up more
quickly than thy sons, let me tell thee, dame."
Then the old woman told him that she had in the house some of the
clothes of her good husband, who had died only two years before. These
she brought to Little John, who, doffing his garb of Lincoln green, put
them on in its stead. Then, making a wig and false beard of uncarded
wool, he covered his own brown hair and beard, and, putting on a great,
tall hat that had belonged to the old peasant, he took his staff in one
hand and his bow in the other, and set forth with all speed to where the
Sheriff had taken up his inn.
A mile or more from Nottingham Town, and not far from the southern
borders of Sherwood Forest, stood the cosy inn bearing the sign of the
King's Head. Here was a great bustle and stir on this bright morning,
for the Sheriff and a score of his men had come to stop there and
await Guy of Gisbourne's return from the forest. Great hiss and fuss of
cooking was going on in the kitchen, and great rapping and tapping of
wine kegs and beer barrels was going on in the cellar. The Sheriff
sat within, feasting merrily of the best the place afforded, and the
Sheriff's men sat upon the bench before the door, quaffing ale, or lay
beneath the shade of the broad-spreading oak trees, talking and jesting
and laughing. All around stood the horses of the band, with a great
noise of stamping feet and a great switching of tails. To this inn came
the King's rangers, driving the widow's three sons before them. The
hands of the three youths were tied tightly behind their backs, and a
cord from neck to neck fastened them all together. So they were marched
to the room where the Sheriff sat at meat, and stood trembling before
him as he scowled sternly upon them.
"So," quoth he, in a great, loud, angry voice, "ye have been poaching
upon the King's deer, have you? Now I will make short work of you this
day, for I will hang up all three of you as a farmer would hang up three
crows to scare others of the kind from the field. Our fair county of
Nottingham hath been too long a breeding place for such naughty knaves
as ye are. I have put up with these things for many years, but now I
will stamp them out once for all, and with you I will begin."
Then one of the poor fellows opened his mouth to speak, but the Sheriff
roared at him in a loud voice to be silent, and bade the rangers to take
them away till he had done his eating and could attend to the matters
concerning them. So the three poor youths were marched outside, where
they stood with bowed heads and despairing hearts, till after a while
the Sheriff came forth. Then he called his men about him, and quoth he,
"These three villains shall be hanged straightway, but not here, lest
they breed ill luck to this goodly inn. We will take them over yonder to
that belt of woodlands, for I would fain hang them upon the very trees
of Sherwood itself, to show those vile outlaws therein what they may
expect of me if I ever have the good luck to lay hands upon them." So
saying, he mounted his horse, as did his men-at-arms likewise, and all
together they set forth for the belt of woodlands he had spoken of, the
poor youths walking in their midst guarded by the rangers. So they came
at last to the spot, and here nooses were fastened around the necks of
the three, and the ends of the cords flung over the branch of a great
oak tree that stood there. Then the three youths fell upon their knees
and loudly besought mercy of the Sheriff; but the Sheriff of Nottingham
laughed scornfully. "Now," quoth he, "I would that I had a priest here
to shrive you; but, as none is nigh, you must e'en travel your road with
all your sins packed upon your backs, and trust to Saint Peter to let
you in through the gates of Paradise like three peddlers into the town."
In the meantime, while all this had been going forward, an old man had
drawn near and stood leaning on his staff, looking on. His hair and
beard were all curly and white, and across his back was a bow of yew
that looked much too strong for him to draw. As the Sheriff looked
around ere he ordered his men to string the three youths up to the oak
tree, his eyes fell upon this strange old man. Then his worship beckoned
to him, saying, "Come hither, father, I have a few words to say to
thee." So Little John, for it was none other than he, came forward, and
the Sheriff looked upon him, thinking that there was something strangely
familiar in the face before him. "How, now," said he, "methinks I have
seen thee before. What may thy name be, father?"
"Please Your Worship," said Little John, in a cracked voice like that of
an old man, "my name is Giles Hobble, at Your Worship's service."
"Giles Hobble, Giles Hobble," muttered the Sheriff to himself, turning
over the names that he had in his mind to try to find one to fit to
this. "I remember not thy name," said he at last, "but it matters not.
Hast thou a mind to earn sixpence this bright morn?"
"Ay, marry," quoth Little John, "for money is not so plenty with me that
I should cast sixpence away an I could earn it by an honest turn. What
is it Your Worship would have me do?"
"Why, this," said the Sheriff. "Here are three men that need hanging
as badly as any e'er I saw. If thou wilt string them up I will pay thee
twopence apiece for them. I like not that my men-at-arms should turn
hangmen. Wilt thou try thy hand?"
"In sooth," said Little John, still in the old man's voice, "I ha' never
done such a thing before; but an a sixpence is to be earned so easily
I might as well ha' it as anybody. But, Your Worship, are these naughty
fellows shrived?"
"Nay," said the Sheriff, laughing, "never a whit; but thou mayst turn
thy hand to that also if thou art so minded. But hasten, I prythee, for
I would get back to mine inn betimes."
So Little John came to where the three youths stood trembling, and,
putting his face to the first fellow's cheek as though he were listening
to him, he whispered softly into his ear, "Stand still, brother, when
thou feelest thy bonds cut, but when thou seest me throw my woolen wig
and beard from my head and face, cast the noose from thy neck and run
for the woodlands." Then he slyly cut the cord that bound the youth's
hands; who, upon his part, stood still as though he were yet bound. Then
he went to the second fellow, and spoke to him in the same way, and also
cut his bonds. This he did to the third likewise, but all so slyly that
the Sheriff, who sat upon his horse laughing, wotted not what was being
done, nor his men either.
Then Little John turned to the Sheriff. "Please Your Worship," said he,
"will you give me leave to string my bow? For I would fain help these
fellows along the way, when they are swinging, with an arrow beneath the
ribs."
"With all my heart," said the Sheriff, "only, as I said before, make
thou haste in thy doings."
Little John put the tip of his bow to his instep, and strung the weapon
so deftly that all wondered to see an old man so strong. Next he drew
a good smooth arrow from his quiver and fitted it to the string; then,
looking all around to see that the way was clear behind him, he suddenly
cast away the wool from his head and face, shouting in a mighty voice,
"Run!" Quick as a flash the three youths flung the nooses from their
necks and sped across the open to the woodlands as the arrow speeds from
the bow. Little John also flew toward the covert like a greyhound, while
the Sheriff and his men gazed after him all bewildered with the sudden
doing. But ere the yeoman had gone far the Sheriff roused himself.
"After him!" he roared in a mighty voice; for he knew now who it was
with whom he had been talking, and wondered that he had not known him
before.
Little John heard the Sheriff's words, and seeing that he could not hope
to reach the woodlands before they would be upon him, he stopped and
turned suddenly, holding his bow as though he were about to shoot.
"Stand back!" cried he fiercely. "The first man that cometh a foot
forward, or toucheth finger to bowstring, dieth!"
At these words the Sheriff's men stood as still as stocks, for they knew
right well that Little John would be as good as his word, and that to
disobey him meant death. In vain the Sheriff roared at them, calling
them cowards, and urging them forward in a body; they would not budge an
inch, but stood and watched Little John as he moved slowly away toward
the forest, keeping his gaze fixed upon them. But when the Sheriff saw
his enemy thus slipping betwixt his fingers he grew mad with his rage,
so that his head swam and he knew not what he did. Then of a sudden he
turned his horse's head, and plunging his spurs into its sides he gave
a great shout, and, rising in his stirrups, came down upon Little John
like the wind. Then Little John raised his deadly bow and drew the gray
goose feather to his cheek. But alas for him! For, ere he could loose
the shaft, the good bow that had served him so long, split in his hands,
and the arrow fell harmless at his feet. Seeing what had happened, the
Sheriff's men raised a shout, and, following their master, came rushing
down upon Little John. But the Sheriff was ahead of the others, and
so caught up with the yeoman before he reached the shelter of the
woodlands, then leaning forward he struck a mighty blow. Little John
ducked and the Sheriff's sword turned in his hand, but the flat of the
blade struck the other upon the head and smote him down, stunned and
senseless.
"Now, I am right glad," said the Sheriff, when the men came up and found
that Little John was not dead, "that I have not slain this man in my
haste! I would rather lose five hundred pounds than have him die thus
instead of hanging, as such a vile thief should do. Go, get some water
from yonder fountain, William, and pour it over his head."
The man did as he was bidden, and presently Little John opened his eyes
and looked around him, all dazed and bewildered with the stun of the
blow. Then they tied his hands behind him, and lifting him up set him
upon the back of one of the horses, with his face to its tail and his
feet strapped beneath its belly. So they took him back to the King's
Head Inn, laughing and rejoicing as they went along. But in the meantime
the widow's three sons had gotten safely away, and were hidden in the
woodlands.
Once more the Sheriff of Nottingham sat within the King's Head Inn. His
heart rejoiced within him, for he had at last done that which he had
sought to do for years, taken Little John prisoner. Quoth he to himself,
"This time tomorrow the rogue shall hang upon the gallows tree in front
of the great gate of Nottingham Town, and thus shall I make my long
score with him even." So saying, he took a deep draught of Canary. But
it seemed as if the Sheriff had swallowed a thought with his wine, for
he shook his head and put the cup down hastily. "Now," he muttered
to himself, "I would not for a thousand pounds have this fellow slip
through my fingers; yet, should his master escape that foul Guy of
Gisbourne, there is no knowing what he may do, for he is the cunningest
knave in all the world--this same Robin Hood. Belike I had better not
wait until tomorrow to hang the fellow." So saying, he pushed his chair
back hastily, and going forth from the inn called his men together.
Quoth he, "I will wait no longer for the hanging of this rogue, but it
shall be done forthwith, and that from the very tree whence he saved
those three young villains by stepping betwixt them and the law. So get
ye ready straightway."
Then once more they sat Little John upon the horse, with his face to the
tail, and so, one leading the horse whereon he sat and the others riding
around him, they went forward to that tree from the branches of which
they had thought to hang the poachers. On they went, rattling and
jingling along the road till they came to the tree. Here one of the men
spake to the Sheriff of a sudden. "Your Worship," cried he, "is not yon
fellow coming along toward us that same Guy of Gisbourne whom thou didst
send into the forest to seek Robin Hood?" At these words the Sheriff
shaded his eyes and looked eagerly. "Why, certes," quoth he, "yon fellow
is the same. Now, Heaven send that he hath slain the master thief, as we
will presently slay the man!"
When Little John heard this speech he looked up, and straightway his
heart crumbled away within him, for not only were the man's garments all
covered with blood, but he wore Robin Hood's bugle horn and carried his
bow and broadsword.
"How now!" cried the Sheriff, when Robin Hood, in Guy of Gisbourne's
clothes, had come nigh to them. "What luck hath befallen thee in the
forest? Why, man, thy clothes are all over blood!"
"An thou likest not my clothes," said Robin in a harsh voice like that
of Guy of Gisbourne, "thou mayst shut thine eyes. Marry, the blood upon
me is that of the vilest outlaw that ever trod the woodlands, and one
whom I have slain this day, albeit not without wound to myself."
Then out spake Little John, for the first time since he had fallen into
the Sheriff's hands. "O thou vile, bloody wretch! I know thee, Guy of
Gisbourne, for who is there that hath not heard of thee and cursed thee
for thy vile deeds of blood and rapine? Is it by such a hand as thine
that the gentlest heart that ever beat is stilled in death? Truly,
thou art a fit tool for this coward Sheriff of Nottingham. Now I die
joyfully, nor do I care how I die, for life is nought to me!" So spake
Little John, the salt tears rolling down his brown cheeks.
But the Sheriff of Nottingham clapped his hands for joy. "Now, Guy of
Gisbourne," cried he, "if what thou tellest me is true, it will be the
best day's doings for thee that ever thou hast done in all thy life."
"What I have told thee is sooth, and I lie not," said Robin, still in
Guy of Gisbourne's voice. "Look, is not this Robin Hood's sword, and is
not this his good bow of yew, and is not this his bugle horn? Thinkest
thou he would have given them to Guy of Gisbourne of his own free will?"
Then the Sheriff laughed aloud for joy. "This is a good day!" cried he.
"The great outlaw dead and his right-hand man in my hands! Ask what thou
wilt of me, Guy of Gisbourne, and it is thine!"
"Then this I ask of thee," said Robin. "As I have slain the master
I would now kill the man. Give this fellow's life into my hands, Sir
Sheriff."
"Now thou art a fool!" cried the Sheriff. "Thou mightst have had money
enough for a knight's ransom if thou hadst asked for it. I like ill to
let this fellow pass from my hands, but as I have promised, thou shalt
have him."
"I thank thee right heartily for thy gift," cried Robin. "Take the rogue
down from the horse, men, and lean him against yonder tree, while I show
you how we stick a porker whence I come!"
At these words some of the Sheriff's men shook their heads; for, though
they cared not a whit whether Little John were hanged or not, they hated
to see him butchered in cold blood. But the Sheriff called to them in
a loud voice, ordering them to take the yeoman down from the horse and
lean him against the tree, as the other bade.
While they were doing this Robin Hood strung both his bow and that of
Guy of Gisbourne, albeit none of them took notice of his doing so. Then,
when Little John stood against the tree, he drew Guy of Gisbourne's
sharp, double-edged dagger. "Fall back! fall back!" cried he. "Would
ye crowd so on my pleasure, ye unmannerly knaves? Back, I say! Farther
yet!" So they crowded back, as he ordered, many of them turning their
faces away, that they might not see what was about to happen.
"Come!" cried Little John. "Here is my breast. It is meet that the same
hand that slew my dear master should butcher me also! I know thee, Guy
of Gisbourne!"
"Peace, Little John!" said Robin in a low voice. "Twice thou hast said
thou knowest me, and yet thou knowest me not at all. Couldst thou not
tell me beneath this wild beast's hide? Yonder, just in front of thee,
lie my bow and arrows, likewise my broadsword. Take them when I cut thy
bonds. Now! Get them quickly!" So saying, he cut the bonds, and Little
John, quick as a wink, leaped forward and caught up the bow and arrows
and the broadsword. At the same time Robin Hood threw back the cowl of
horse's hide from his face and bent Guy of Gisbourne's bow, with a keen,
barbed arrow fitted to the string. "Stand back!" cried he sternly. "The
first man that toucheth finger to bowstring dieth! I have slain thy
man, Sheriff; take heed that it is not thy turn next." Then, seeing that
Little John had armed himself, he clapped his bugle horn to his lips and
blew three blasts both loud and shrill.
Now when the Sheriff of Nottingham saw whose face it was beneath Guy of
Gisbourne's hood, and when he heard those bugle notes ring in his ear,
he felt as if his hour had come. "Robin Hood!" roared he, and without
another word he wheeled his horse in the road and went off in a cloud of
dust. The Sheriff's men, seeing their master thus fleeing for his life,
thought that it was not their business to tarry longer, so, clapping
spurs to their horses, they also dashed away after him. But though
the Sheriff of Nottingham went fast, he could not outstrip a clothyard
arrow. Little John twanged his bowstring with a shout, and when the
Sheriff dashed in through the gates of Nottingham Town at full speed, a
gray goose shaft stuck out behind him like a moulting sparrow with one
feather in its tail. For a month afterward the poor Sheriff could sit
upon nought but the softest cushions that could be gotten for him.
Thus the Sheriff and a score of men ran away from Robin Hood and Little
John; so that when Will Stutely and a dozen or more of stout yeomen
burst from out the covert, they saw nought of their master's enemies,
for the Sheriff and his men were scurrying away in the distance, hidden
within a cloud of dust like a little thunderstorm.
Then they all went back into the forest once more, where they found the
widow's three sons, who ran to Little John and kissed his hands. But
it would not do for them to roam the forest at large any more; so
they promised that, after they had gone and told their mother of
their escape, they would come that night to the greenwood tree, and
thenceforth become men of the band.