Introduction
The outlaw of mediaeval England has always possessed a potent charm for
the minds of less rebellious persons. No doubt now the attraction has
somewhat waned, for in the exploration of distant lands and the study
of barbaric tribes men can find that breadth of outlook, that escape
from narrow conventionalities, which they could formerly gain only by
the cult of the "noble outlaw." The romance of life for many a worthy
citizen must have been found in secret sympathy with Robin Hood and
his merry band of banished men, robbing the purse-proud to help the
needy and gaily defying law and authority.
To the poor, however, the outlaw was something more than an easy
entrance to the realms of romance; he was a real embodiment of the
spirit of liberty. Of all the unjust laws which the Norman conquerors
laid upon England, perhaps the most bitterly resented were the forest
laws, and resistance to them was the most popular form of national
independence. Hence it follows that we find outlaw heroes popular very
early in our history--heroes who stand in the mind of the populace for
justice and true liberty against the oppressive tyranny of subordinate
officials, and who are always taken into favour by the king, the fount
of true justice.
Famous Outlaws
There is some slight tinge of the "outlaw hero" in Hereward, but the
outlaw period of that patriot's life is but an episode in his defence
of England against William the Norman. There is a fully developed
outlaw hero, the ideal of the type, in Robin Hood, but he has been
somewhat idealized and ennobled by being transformed into a banished
Earl of Huntingdon. Less known, but equally heroic, is William of
Cloudeslee, the William Tell of England, whose fame is that of a good
yeoman, a good archer, and a good patriot.
The Outlaws
In the green forest of Englewood, in the "North Countree," not far
from the fortified town of Carlisle, dwelt a merry band of outlaws.
They were not evildoers, but sturdy archers and yeomen, whose outlawry
had been incurred only for shooting the king's deer. Indeed, to most
men of that time--that is, to most men who were not in the royal
service--the shooting of deer, and the pursuit of game in general,
were not only venial offences, but the most natural thing in life. The
royal claim to exclusive hunting in the vast forests of Epping,
Sherwood, Needwood, Barnesdale, Englewood, and many others seemed
preposterous to the yeomen who lived on the borders of the forests,
and they took their risks and shot the deer and made venison pasty,
convinced that they were wronging no one and risking only their own
lives. They had the help and sympathy of many a man who was himself a
law-abiding citizen, as well as the less understanding help of the
town mob and the labourers in the country.
The Leaders
While the outlaws of merry Sherwood recognised no chief but Robin Hood
and no foe but the Sheriff of Nottingham, the outlaws of Englewood
were under the headship of three famous archers, brothers-in-arms
sworn to stand by each other, but not brothers in blood. Their names
were Adam Bell, William of Cloudeslee, and Clym of the Cleugh; and of
the three William of Cloudeslee alone was married. His wife, fair
Alice of Cloudeslee, dwelt in a strong house within the walls of
Carlisle, with her three children, for they were not included in
William's outlawry. It was possible thus for her to send her husband
warning of any attack planned by the Sheriff of Carlisle on the
outlaws, and she had saved him and his comrades from surprise already.
William Goes to Carlisle
When the blithe spring had come, and the forest was beautiful with its
fresh green leaves, William began to long for his home and family; he
had not ventured into Carlisle for some time, and it was more than six
months since he had seen his wife's face. Little wonder was it, then,
that he announced his intention of visiting his home, at the risk of
capture by his old enemy the Sheriff. In vain his comrades dissuaded
him from the venture. Adam Bell was especially urgent in his advice
that William should remain in the greenwood.
"You shall not go to Carlisle, brother, by my advice, nor with my
consent. If the sheriff or the justice should know that you are in the
town short would be your shrift and soon your span of life would end.
Stay with us, and we will fetch you tidings of your wife."
William replied: "Nay, I must go myself; I cannot rest content with
tidings only. If all is well I will return by prime to-morrow, and if
I fail you at that hour you may be sure I am taken or slain; and I
pray you guard well my family, if that be so."
Taking leave of his brother outlaws, William made his way unobserved
into the town and came to his wife's dwelling. It was closely shut,
with doors strongly bolted, and he was forced to knock long on the
window before his wife opened the shutter to see who was the
importunate visitor.
"Let me in quickly, my own Alice," he said. "I have come to see you
and my three children. How have you fared this long time?"
"Alas!" she replied, hurriedly admitting him, and bolting the door
again, "why have you come now, risking your dear life to gain news of
us? Know you not that this house has been watched for more than six
months, so eager are the sheriff and the justice to capture and hang
you? I would have come to you in the forest, or sent you word of our
welfare. I fear--oh, how I fear!--lest your coming be known!"
The Old Woman's Treachery
"Now that I am here, let us make merry," quoth William. "No man has
seen me enter, and I would fain enjoy my short stay with you and my
children, for I must be back in the forest by prime to-morrow. Can you
not give a hungry outlaw food and drink?"
Then Dame Alice bustled about and prepared the best she had for her
husband; and when all was ready a very happy little family sat down to
the meal, husband and wife talking cheerily together, while the
children watched in wondering silence the father who had been away so
long and came to them so seldom.
There was one inmate of the house who saw in William's return a means
of making shameful profit. She was an old bedridden woman, apparently
paralysed, whom he had rescued from utter poverty seven years before.
During all that time she had lain on a bed near the fire, had shared
all the life of the family, and had never once moved from her couch.
Now, while husband and wife talked together and the darkness deepened
in the room, this old impostor slipped from her bed and glided
stealthily out of the house.
News Brought to the Sheriff
It happened that the king's assize was being held just then in
Carlisle, and the sheriff and his staunch ally the justice were
sitting together in the Justice Hall. Thither this treacherous old
woman hurried with all speed and pushed into the hall, forcing her way
through the crowd till she came near the sheriff. "Ha! what would you,
good woman?" asked he, surprised. "Sir, I bring tidings of great
value." "Tell your tidings, and I shall see if they be of value or no.
If they are I will reward you handsomely." "Sir, this night William of
Cloudeslee has come into Carlisle, and is even now in his wife's
house. He is all alone, and you can take him easily. Now what will you
pay me, for I am sure this news is much to you?" "You say truth, good
woman. That bold outlaw is the worst of all who kill the king's deer
in his forest of Englewood, and if I could but catch him I should be
well content. Dame, you shall not go without a recompense for your
journey here and for your loyalty." The sheriff then bade his men give
the old woman a piece of scarlet cloth, dyed in grain, enough for a
gown, and the treacherous hag hid the gift under her cloak, hastened
away to Alice's house, and slipped unperceived into her place again,
hiding the scarlet cloth under the bed-coverings.
The Hue and Cry
Immediately he had heard of Cloudeslee's presence in Carlisle the
sheriff sent out the hue and cry, and with all speed raised the whole
town, for though none hated the outlaws men dared not refuse to obey
the king's officer. The justice, too, joined the sheriff in the
congenial task of capturing an outlaw whose condemnation was already
pronounced. With all the forces at their disposal, sheriff and justice
took their way towards the house where William and Alice unconscious
of the danger besetting them, still talked lovingly together.
Suddenly the outlaw's ears, sharpened by woodcraft and by constant
danger, heard a growing noise coming nearer and nearer. He knew the
sound of the footsteps of many people, and among the casual shuffling
of feet recognised the ominous tramp of soldiers.
"Wife, we are betrayed," cried William. "Hither comes the sheriff to
take me."
The Siege of the House
Alice ran quickly up to her bedchamber and opened a window looking to
the back, and saw, to her despair, that soldiers beset the house on
every side and filled all the neighbouring streets. Behind them
pressed a great throng of citizens, who seemed inclined to leave the
capture of the outlaw to the guard. At the same moment William from
the front called to his wife that the sheriff and justice were
besieging the house on that side.
"Alas! dear husband, what shall we do?" cried Alice. "Accursed be all
treason! But who can have betrayed you to your foes? Go into my
bedchamber, dear William, and defend yourself there, for it is the
strongest room in the house. The children and I will go with you, and
I will guard the door while you defend the windows."
The plan was speedily carried out, and while William took his stand by
the window Alice seized a pole-axe and stationed herself by the door.
"No man shall enter this door alive while I live," said she.
The Attack
From the window Cloudeslee could perceive his mortal enemies the
justice and the sheriff; and drawing his good longbow, he shot with
deadly aim fair at the breast of the justice. It was well for the
latter then that he wore a suit of good chain-mail under his robes;
the arrow hit his breast and split in three on the mail.
"Beshrew the man that clad you with that mail coat! You would have
been a dead man now if your coat had been no thicker than mine," said
William.
"Yield yourself, Cloudeslee, and lay down your bow and arrows," said
the justice. "You cannot escape, for we have you safe."
"Never shall my husband yield; it is evil counsel you give," exclaimed
the brave wife from her post at the door.
The House is Burnt
The sheriff, who grew more angered as the hours passed on and
Cloudeslee was not taken, now cried aloud: "Why do we waste time
trifling here? The man is an outlaw and his life is forfeit. Let us
burn him and his house, and if his wife and children will not leave
him they shall all burn together, for it is their own choice."
This cruel plan was soon carried out. Fire was set to the door and
wooden shutters, and the flames spread swiftly; the smoke rolled up in
thick clouds into the lofty bedchamber, where the little children,
crouching on the ground, began to weep for fear.
"Alas! must we all die?" cried fair Alice, grieving for her children.
William opened the window and looked out, but there was no chance of
escape; his foes filled every street and lane around the house.
"Surely they will spare my wife and babes," he thought; and, tearing
the sheets from the bed, he made a rope, with which he let down to the
ground his children, and last of all his weeping wife.
He called aloud to the sheriff: "Sir Sheriff, here have I trusted to
you my chief treasures. For God's sake do them no harm, but wreak all
your wrath on me!"
Gentle hands received Alice and her babes, and friendly citizens led
them from the press; but Alice went reluctantly, in utter grief,
knowing that her husband must be burnt with his house or taken by his
foes; but for her children she would have stayed with him. William
continued his wonderful archery, never missing his aim, till all his
arrows were spent, and the flames came so close that his bowstring was
burnt in two. Great blazing brands came falling upon him from the
burning roof, and the floor was hot beneath his feet. "An evil death
is this!" thought he. "Better it were that I should take sword and
buckler and leap down amid my foes and so die, striking good blows in
the throng of enemies, than stay here and let them see me burn."
[Illustration: "William continued his wonderful archery"]
Thereupon he leaped lightly down, and fought so fiercely that he
nearly escaped through the throng, for the worthy citizens of Carlisle
were not anxious to capture him; but the soldiers, urged by the
sheriff and justice, threw doors and windows upon him, hampered his
blows, and seized and bound him, and cast him into a deep dungeon.
The Sheriff Gives Sentence
"Now, William of Cloudeslee," quoth the sheriff, "you shall be hanged
with speed, as soon as I can have a new gallows made. So noted an
outlaw merits no common gibbet; a new one is most fitting.
To-morrow at prime you shall die. There is no hope of rescue, for the
gates of the town shall be shut. Your dear friends, Adam Bell and Clym
of the Cleugh, would be helpless to save you, though they brought a
thousand more like themselves, or even all the devils in Hell."
Early next morning the justice arose, went to the soldiers who guarded
the gates, and forbade them to open till the execution was over; then
he went to the market-place and superintended the erection of a
specially lofty gallows, beside the pillory.
News is Brought to the Greenwood
Among the crowd who watched the gallows being raised was a little lad,
the town swineherd, who asked a bystander the meaning of the new
gibbet.
"It is put up to hang a good yeoman, William of Cloudeslee, more's the
pity! He has done no wrong but kill the King's deer, and that merits
not hanging. It is a foul shame that such injustice can be wrought in
the king's name."
The little lad had often met William of Cloudeslee in the forest, and
had carried him messages from his wife; William had given the boy many
a dinner of venison, and now he determined to help his friend if he
could. The gates were shut and no man could pass out, but the boy
stole along the wall till he found a crevice, by which he clambered
down outside. Then he hastened to the forest of Englewood, and met
Adam Bell and Clym of the Cleugh.
"Come quickly, good yeomen; ye tarry here too long. While you are at
ease in the greenwood your friend, William of Cloudeslee, is taken,
condemned to death, and ready to be hanged. He needs your help this
very hour."
Adam Bell groaned. "Ah! if he had but taken our advice he would have
been here in safety with us now. In the greenwood there is no sorrow
or care, but when William went to the town he was running into
trouble." Then, bending his bow, he shot with unerring aim a hart,
which he gave to the lad as recompense for his labour and goodwill.
The Outlaws Go to Carlisle
"Come," said Clym to Adam Bell, "let us tarry no longer, but take our
bows and arrows and see what we can do. By God's grace we will rescue
our brother, though we may abide it full dearly ourselves. We will go
to Carlisle without delay."
The morning was fair as the two yeomen strode from the deep green
shades of Englewood Forest along the hard white road leading to
Carlisle Town. They were in time as yet, but when they drew near the
wall they were amazed to see that no entrance or exit was possible;
the gates were shut fast.
Stepping back into the green thickets beside the road, the two outlaws
consulted together. Adam Bell was for a valiant attempt to storm the
gate, but Clym suddenly bethought him of a wiser plan.
Clym's Stratagem
Said he: "Let us pretend to be messengers from the king, with urgent
letters to the justice. Surely that should win us admission. But alas!
I forgot. How can we bear out our pretence, for I am no learned clerk.
I cannot write."
Quoth Adam Bell: "I can write a good clerkly hand. Wait one instant
and I will speedily have a letter written; then we can say we have the
king's seal. The plan will do well enough, for I hold the gate-keeper
no learned clerk, and this will deceive him."
[Illustration: Adam Bell writes the letter]
Indeed, the letter which he quickly wrote and folded and sealed was
very well and clearly written, and addressed to the Justice of
Carlisle. Then the two bold outlaws hastened up the road and thundered
on the town gates.
They Enter the Town
So long and loud they knocked that the warder came in great wrath,
demanding who dared to make such clamour.
Adam Bell replied: "We are two messengers come straight from our lord
the king." Clym of the Cleugh added: "We have a letter for the justice
which we must deliver into his own hands. Let us in speedily to
perform our errand, for we must return to the king in haste."
"No," the warder replied, "that I cannot do. No man may enter these
gates till a false thief and outlaw be safely hanged. He is William of
Cloudeslee, who has long deserved death."
Now Clym saw that matters were becoming desperate, and time was
passing too quickly, so he adopted a more violent tone. "Ah, rascal,
scoundrel, madman!" quoth he. "If we be delayed here any longer thou
shalt be hanged for a false thief! To keep the king's messengers
waiting thus! Canst thou not see the king's seal? Canst thou not read
the address of the royal letter? Ah, blockhead, thou shalt dearly
abide this delay when my lord knows thereof."
Thus speaking, he flourished the forged letter, with its false seal,
in the porter's face; and the man, seeing the seal and the writing,
believed what was told him. Reverently he took off his hood and bent
the knee to the king's messengers, for whom he opened wide the gates,
and they entered, walking warily.
They Keep the Gates
"At last we are within Carlisle walls, and glad thereof are we," said
Adam Bell, "but when and how we shall go out again Christ only knows,
who harrowed Hell and brought out its prisoners."
"Now if we had the keys ourselves we should have a good chance of
life," said Clym, "for then we could go in and out at our own will."
"Let us call the warder," said Adam. When he came running at their
call both the yeomen sprang upon him, flung him to the ground, bound
him hand and foot, and cast him into a dark cell, taking his bunch of
keys from his girdle. Adam laughed and shook the heavy keys. "Now I am
gate-ward of merry Carlisle. See, here are my keys. I think I shall be
the worst warder they have had for three hundred years. Let us bend
our bows and hold our arrows ready, and walk into the town to deliver
our brother."
The Fight in the Market-place
When they came to the market-place they found a dense crowd of
sympathizers watching pityingly the hangman's cart, in which lay
William of Cloudeslee, bound hand and foot, with a rope round his
neck. The sheriff and the justice stood near the gallows, and
Cloudeslee would have been hanged already, but that the sheriff was
hiring a man to measure the outlaw for his grave. "You shall have the
dead man's clothes, good fellow, if you make his grave," said he.
Cloudeslee's courage was still undaunted. "I have seen as great a
marvel ere now," quoth he, "as that a man who digs a grave for another
may lie in it himself, in as short a time as from now to prime."
"You speak proudly, my fine fellow, but hanged you shall be, if I do
it with my own hand," retorted the sheriff furiously.
Now the cart moved a little nearer to the scaffold, and William was
raised up to be ready for execution. As he looked round the dense mass
of faces his keen sight soon made him aware of his friends. Adam Bell
and Clym of the Cleugh stood at one corner of the market-place with
arrow on string, and their deadly aim bent at the sheriff and justice,
whose horses raised them high above the murmuring throng. Cloudeslee
showed no surprise, but said aloud: "Lo! I see comfort, and hope to
fare well in my journey. Yet if I might have my hands free I would
care little what else befell me."
The Rescue
Now Adam said quietly to Clym: "Brother, do you take the justice, and
I will shoot the sheriff. Let us both loose at once and leave them
dying. It is an easy shot, though a long one."
Thus, while the sheriff yet waited for William to be measured for his
grave, suddenly men heard the twang of bowstrings and the whistling
flight of arrows through the air, and at the same moment both sheriff
and justice fell writhing from their steeds, with the grey goose
feathers standing in their breasts. All the bystanders fled from the
dangerous neighbourhood, and left the gallows, the fatal cart, and the
mortally wounded officials alone. The two bold outlaws rushed to
release their comrade, cut his bonds, and lifted him to his feet.
William seized an axe from a soldier and pursued the fleeing guard,
while his two friends with their deadly arrows slew a man at each
shot.
The Mayor of Carlisle
When the arrows were all used Adam Bell and Clym of the Cleugh threw
away their bows and took to sword and buckler. The fight continued
till midday for in the narrow streets the three comrades protected
each other, and drew gradually towards the gate. Adam Bell still
carried the keys at his girdle, and they could pass out easily if they
could but once reach the gateway. By this time the whole town was in a
commotion; again the hue and cry had been raised against the outlaws,
and the Mayor of Carlisle came in person with a mighty troop of armed
citizens, angered now at the fighting in the streets of the town.
The three yeomen retreated as steadily as they could towards the gate,
but the mayor followed valiantly armed with a pole-axe, with which he
clove Cloudeslee's shield in two. He soon perceived the object of the
outlaws, and bade his men guard the gates well, so that the three
should not escape.
The Escape from Carlisle
Terrible was the din in the town now, for trumpets blew, church-bells
were rung backward, women bewailed their dead in the streets, and over
all resounded the clash of arms, as the fighting drew nigh the gate.
When the gatehouse came in sight the outlaws were fighting
desperately, with diminishing strength, but the thought of safety
outside the walls gave them force to make one last stand. With backs
to the gate and faces to the foe, Adam and Clym and William made a
valiant onslaught on the townsfolk, who fled in terror, leaving a
breathing-space in which Adam Bell turned the key, flung open the
great ponderous gate, and flung it to again, when the three had passed
through.
[Illustration: The fight at the gate]
Adam and the Keys
As Adam locked the door they could hear inside the town the
hurrying footsteps of the rallying citizens, whose furious attack on
the great iron-studded door came too late. The door was locked, and
the three friends stood in safety outside, with their pleasant forest
home within easy reach. The change of feeling was so intense that Adam
Bell, always the man to seize the humorous point of a situation,
laughed lightly. He called through the barred wicket:
"Here are your keys. I resign my office as warder--one half-day's work
is enough for me; and as I have resigned, and the former gate-ward is
somewhat damaged and has disappeared, I advise you to find a new one.
Take your keys, and much good may you get from them. Next time I
advise you not to stop an honest yeoman from coming to see his own
wife and have a chat with her."
Thereupon he flung the keys over the gate on the heads of the crowd,
and the three brethren slipped away into the forest to their own
haunts, where they found fresh bows and arrows in such abundance that
they longed to be back in fair Carlisle with their foes before them.
William of Cloudeslee and his Wife Meet
While they were yet discussing all the details of the rescue they
heard a woman's pitiful lament and the crying of little children.
"Hark!" said Cloudeslee, and they all heard in the silence the words
she said. It was William's wife, and she cried: "Alas! why did I not
die before this day? Woe is me that my dear husband is slain! He is
dead, and I have no friend to lament with me. If only I could see his
comrades and tell what has befallen him my heart would be eased of
some of its pain."
William, as he listened, was deeply touched, and walked gently to
fair Alice, as she hid her face in her hands and wept. "Welcome, wife,
to the greenwood!" quoth he. "By heaven, I never thought to see you
again when I lay in bonds last night." Dame Alice sprang up most
joyously. "Oh, all is well with me now you are here; I have no care or
woe." "For that you must thank my dear brethren, Adam and Clym," said
he; and Alice began to load them with her thanks, but Adam cut short
the expression of her gratitude. "No need to talk about a little
matter like that," he said gruffly. "If we want any supper we had
better kill something, for the meat we must eat is yet running wild."
With three such good archers game was easily shot and a merry meal was
quickly prepared in the greenwood, and all joyfully partook of venison
and other dainties. Throughout the repast William devotedly waited on
his wife with deepest love and reverence, for he could not forget how
she had defended him and risked her life to stand by him.
William's Proposed Visit to London
When the meal was over, and they reclined on the green turf round the
fire, William began thoughtfully:
"It is in my mind that we ought speedily to go to London and try to
win our pardon from the king. Unless we approach him before news can
be brought from Carlisle he will assuredly slay us. Let us go at once,
leaving my dear wife and my two youngest sons in a convent here; but I
would fain take my eldest boy with me. If all goes well he can bring
good news to Alice in her nunnery, and if all goes ill he shall bring
her my last wishes. But I am sure I am not meant to die by the law."
His brethren approved the plan, and they took fair Alice and her two
youngest children to the nunnery, and then the three famous archers
with the little boy of seven set out at their best speed for London,
watching the passers-by carefully, that no news of the doings in
Carlisle should precede them to the king.
Outlaws in the Royal Palace
The three yeomen, on arriving in London, made their way at once to the
king's palace, and walked boldly into the hall, regardless of the
astonished and indignant shouts of the royal porter. He followed them
angrily into the hall, and began reproaching them and trying to induce
them to withdraw, but to no purpose. Finally an usher came and said:
"Yeomen, what is your wish? Pray tell me, and I will help you if I
can; but if you enter the king's presence thus unmannerly you will
cause us to be blamed. Tell me now whence you come."
William fearlessly answered: "Sir, we will tell the truth without
deceit. We are outlaws from the king's forests, outlawed for killing
the king's deer, and we come to beg for pardon and a charter of peace,
to show to the sheriff of our county."
The King and the Outlaws
The usher went to an inner room and begged to know the king's will,
whether he would see these outlaws or not. The king was interested in
these bold yeomen, who dared to avow themselves law-breakers, and bade
men bring them to audience with him. The three comrades, with the
little boy, on being introduced into the royal presence, knelt down
and held up their hands, beseeching pardon for their offences.
"Sire, we beseech your pardon for our breach of your laws. We are
forest outlaws, who have slain your fallow deer in many parts of your
royal forests." "Your names? Tell me at once," said the king. "Adam
Bell, Clym of the Cleugh, and William of Cloudeslee," they replied.
The king was very wrathful. "Are you those bold robbers of whom men
have told me? Do you now dare to come to me for pardon? On mine honour
I vow that you shall all three be hanged without mercy, as I am
crowned king of this realm of England. Arrest them and lay them in
bonds." There was no resistance possible, and the yeomen submitted
ruefully to their arrest. Adam Bell was the first to speak. "As I hope
to thrive, this game pleases me not at all," he said. "Sire, of your
mercy, we beg you to remember that we came to you of our own free
will, and to let us pass away again as freely. Give us back our
weapons and let us have free passage till we have left your palace; we
ask no more; we shall never ask another favour, however long we live."
The king was obdurate, however; he only replied: "You speak proudly
still, but you shall all three be hanged."
The Queen Intercedes
The queen, who was sitting beside her husband, now spoke for the first
time. "Sire, it were a pity that such good yeomen should die, if they
might in any wise be pardoned." "There is no pardon," said the king.
She then replied: "My lord, when I first left my native land and came
into this country as your bride you promised to grant me at once the
first boon I asked. I have never needed to ask one until to-day, but
now, sire, I claim one, and I beg you to grant it." "With all my
heart; ask your boon, and it shall be yours willingly." "Then, I pray
you, grant me the lives of these good yeomen." "Madam, you might have
had half my kingdom, and you ask a worthless trifle." "Sire, it seems
not worthless to me; I beg you to keep your promise." "Madam, it vexes
me that you have asked so little; yet since you will have these three
outlaws, take them." The queen rejoiced greatly. "Many thanks, my lord
and husband. I will be surety for them that they shall be true men
henceforth. But, good my lord, give them a word of comfort, that they
may not be wholly dismayed by your anger."
News Comes to the King
The king smiled at his wife. "Ah, madam! you will have your own way,
as all women will. Go, fellows, wash yourselves, and find places at
the tables, where you shall dine well enough, even if it be not on
venison pasty from the king's own forests."
The outlaws did reverence to the king and queen, and found seats with
the king's guard at the lower tables in the hall. They were still
satisfying their appetites when a messenger came in haste to the king;
and the three North Countrymen looked at one another uneasily, for
they knew the man was from Carlisle. The messenger knelt before the
king and presented his letters. "Sire, your officers greet you well."
"How fare they? How does my valiant sheriff? And the prudent justice?
Are they well?"
"Alas! my lord, they have been slain, and many another good officer
with them."
"Who hath done this?" questioned the king angrily.
"My lord, three bold outlaws, Adam Bell, Clym of the Cleugh, and
William of Cloudeslee."
"What! these three whom I have just pardoned? Ah, sorely I repent that
I forgave them! I would give a thousand pounds if I could have them
hanged all three; but I cannot."
The King's Test
As the king read the letters his anger and surprise increased. It
seemed impossible that three men should overawe a whole town, should
slay sheriff, justice, mayor, and nearly every official in the town,
forge a royal letter with the king's seal, and then lock the gates and
escape safely. There was no doubt of the fact, and the king raged
impotently against his own foolish mercy in giving them a free pardon.
It had been granted, however, and he could do nought but grieve over
the ruin they had wrought in Carlisle. At last he sprang up, for he
could endure the banquet no longer.
"Call my archers to go to the butts," he commanded. "I will see these
bold outlaws shoot, and try if their archery is so fine as men say."
Accordingly the king's archers and the queen's archers arrayed
themselves, and the three yeomen took their bows and looked well to
their silken bowstrings; and then all made their way to the butts
where the targets were set up. The archers shot in turn, aiming at an
ordinary target, but Cloudeslee soon grew weary of this childish
sport, and said aloud: "I shall never call a man a good archer who
shoots at a target as large as a buckler. We have another sort of butt
in my country, and that is worth shooting at."
William of Cloudeslee's Archery
"Make ready your own butts," the king commanded, and the three outlaws
went to a bush in a field close by and returned bearing hazel-rods,
peeled and shining white. These rods they set up at four hundred
yards apart, and, standing by one, they said to the king: "We should
account a man a fair archer if he could split one wand while standing
beside the other." "It cannot be done; the feat is too great,"
exclaimed the king. "Sire, I can easily do it," quoth Cloudeslee, and,
taking aim very carefully, he shot, and the arrow split the wand in
two. "In truth," said the king, "you are the best archer I have ever
seen. Can you do greater wonders?" "Yes," quoth Cloudeslee, "one thing
more I can do, but it is a more difficult feat. Nevertheless I will
try it, to show you our North Country shooting." "Try, then," the king
replied; "but if you fail you shall be hanged without mercy, because
of your boasting."
Cloudeslee Shoots the Apple from his Son's Head
Now Cloudeslee stood for a few moments as if doubtful of himself, and
the South Country archers watched him, hoping for a chance to retrieve
their defeat, when William suddenly said: "I have a son, a dear son,
seven years of age. I will tie him to a stake and place an apple on
his head. Then from a distance of a hundred and twenty yards I will
split the apple in two with a broad arrow." "By heaven!" the king
cried, "that is a dreadful feat. Do as you have said, or by Him who
died on the Cross I will hang you high. Do as you have said, but if
you touch one hair of his head, or the edge of his gown, I will hang
you and your two companions." "I have never broken my pledged word,"
said the North Country bowman, and he at once made ready for the
terrible trial. The stake was set in the ground, the boy tied to it,
with his face turned from his father, lest he should give a start and
destroy his aim. Cloudeslee then paced the hundred and twenty yards,
anxiously felt his string, bent his bow, chose his broadest arrow, and
fitted it with care.
[Illustration: William of Cloudeslee and his son]
The Last Shot
It was an anxious moment. The throng of spectators felt sick with
expectation, and many women wept and prayed for the father and his
innocent son. But Cloudeslee showed no fear. He addressed the crowd
gravely: "Good folk, stand all as still as may be. For such a shot a
man needs a steady hand, and your movements may destroy my aim and
make me slay my son. Pray for me."
Then, in an unbroken silence of breathless suspense, the bold marksman
shot, and the apple fell to the ground, cleft into two absolutely
equal halves. A cheer from every spectator burst forth deafeningly,
and did not die down till the king beckoned for silence.
The King and Queen Show Favour
"God forbid that I should ever be your target," quoth he. "You shall
be my chief forester in the North Country, with daily wage, and daily
right of killing venison; your two brethren shall become yeomen of my
guard, and I will advance the fortunes of your family in every way."
The queen smiled graciously upon William, and she bestowed a pension
upon him, and bade him bring his wife, fair Alice, to court, to take
up the post of chief woman of the bedchamber to the royal children.
Overwhelmed with these favours, the three yeomen became conscious of
their own offences, more than they had told to the royal pair; their
awakened consciences sent them to a holy bishop, who heard their
confessions, gave them penance and bade them live well for the
future, and then absolved them. When they had returned to Englewood
Forest and had broken up the outlaw band they came back to the royal
court, and spent the rest of their lives in great favour with the king
and queen.