Introduction
England during the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries was
slowly taught the value of firm administrative government. In Saxon
England, the keeping of the peace and the maintenance of justice had
been left largely to private and family enterprise and to local and
trading communities. In Norman England, the royal authority was
asserted throughout the kingdom, though as yet the king had to depend
in large measure upon the co-operation of his barons and the help of
the burghers to supply the lack of a standing army and an adequate
police. Under the Plantagenets, the older chivalry was slowly breaking
up, and a new, wealthy burgher and trading community was rapidly
gaining influence in the land; whilst the clergy, corrupted by excess
of wealth and power, had strained, almost to breaking, the controlling
force of religion. It was therefore natural that in these latter days
a class of men should arise to avail themselves of the unique
opportunities of the time--men who, loving liberty and hating
oppression, took the law into their own hands and executed a rough and
ready justice between the rich and the poor which embodied the best
traditions of knight-errantry, whilst they themselves lived a free and
merry life on the tolls they exacted from their wealthy victims. Such
a man may well have been the original Robin Hood, a man who, when once
he had captured the popular imagination, soon acquired heroic
reputation and was credited with every daring deed and every
magnanimous action in two centuries of 'freebooting.'
Robin Hood Seeks a Guest
At one time Robin Hood lived in the noble forest of Barnesdale, in
Yorkshire. He had but few of his merry men with him, for his
headquarters were in the glorious forest of Sherwood. Just now,
however, the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire was less active in his
endeavours to put down the band of outlaws, and the leader had
wandered farther north than usual. Robin's companions were his three
dearest comrades and most loyal followers, Little John (so called
because of his great stature), Will Scarlet, Robin's cousin, and Much,
the miller's son. These three were all devoted to their leader, and
never left his side, except at such times as he sent them away on his
business.
On this day Robin was leaning against a tree, lost in thought, and his
three followers grew impatient; they knew that before dinner could be
served there were the three customary Masses to hear, and their leader
gave no sign of being ready for Mass. Robin always heard three Masses
before his dinner, one of the Father, one of the Holy Spirit, and the
last of Our Lady, who was his patron saint and protector. As the three
yeomen were growing hungry, Little John ventured to address him.
"Master, it would do you good if you would dine early to-day, for you
have fasted long." Robin aroused himself and smiled. "Ah, Little John,
methinks care for thine own appetite hath a share in that speech, as
well as care for me. But in sooth I care not to dine alone. I would
have a stranger guest, some abbot or bishop or baron, who would pay us
for our hospitality. I will not dine till a guest be found, and I
leave it to you three to find him." Robin turned away, laughing at the
crestfallen faces of his followers, who had not counted on such a
vague commission; but Little John, quickly recovering himself, called
to him: "Master, tell us, before we leave you, where we shall meet,
and what sort of people we are to capture and bring to you in the
greenwood."
The Outlaws' Rules
"You know that already," said their master. "You are to do no harm to
women, nor to any company in which a woman is travelling; this is in
honour of our dear Lady. You are to be kind and gentle to husbandmen
and toilers of all degrees, to worthy knights and yeomen, to gallant
squires, and to all children and helpless people; but sheriffs
(especially him of Nottingham), bishops, and prelates of all kinds,
and usurers in Church and State, you may regard as your enemies, and
may rob, beat, and despoil in any way. Meet me with your guest at our
great trysting oak in the forest, and be speedy, for dinner must wait
until the visitor has arrived." "Now may God send us a suitable
traveller soon," said Little John, "for I am hungry for dinner now."
"So am I," said each of the others, and Robin laughed again. "Go ye
all three, with bows and arrows in hand, and I will stay alone at the
trysting tree and await your coming. As no man passes this way, you
can walk up to the willow plantation and take your stand on Watling
Street; there you will soon meet with likely travellers, and I will
accept the first who appears. I will find means to have dinner ready
against your return, and we will hope that our visitor's generosity
will compensate us for the trouble of cooking his dinner."
Robin Hood's Guest
The three yeomen, taking their longbows in hand and arrows in their
belts, walked up through the willow plantation to a place on Watling
Street where another road crossed it; but there was no one in sight.
As they stood with bows in hand, looking towards the forest of
Barnesdale, they saw in the distance a knight riding in their
direction. As he drew nearer they were struck by his appearance, for
he rode as a man who had lost all interest in life; his clothes were
disordered, he looked neither to right nor left, but drooped his head
sadly, while one foot hung in the stirrup and the other dangled
slackly in the air. The yeomen had never seen so doleful a rider; but,
sad as he was, this was a visitor and must be taken to Robin;
accordingly Little John stepped forward and caught the horse by the
bridle.
[Illustration: "Little John caught the horse by the bridle"]
Little John Escorts the Knight
The knight raised his head and looked blankly at the outlaw, who at
once doffed his cap, saying, "Welcome, Sir Knight! I give you, on my
master's behalf, a hearty welcome to the greenwood. Gentle knight,
come now to my master, who hath waited three hours, fasting, for your
approach before he would dine. Dinner is prepared, and only tarries
your courteous appearance." The stranger knight seemed to consider
this address carefully, for he sighed deeply, and then said: "I cry
thee mercy, good fellow, for the delay, though I wot not how I am the
cause thereof. But who is thy master?" Little John replied: "My
master's name is Robin Hood, and I am sent to guide you to him." The
knight said: "So Robin Hood is thy leader? I have heard of him, and
know him to be a good yeoman; therefore I am ready to accompany thee,
though, in good sooth, I had intended to eat my midday meal at Blythe
or Doncaster to-day. But it matters little where a broken man dines!"
Robin Hood's Feast
The three yeomen conducted the knight along the forest ways to the
trysting oak where Robin awaited them. As they went they observed
that the knight was weeping silently for some great distress, but
their courtesy forbade them to make any show of noticing his grief.
When the appointed spot was reached, Robin stepped forward and
courteously greeted his guest, with head uncovered and bended knee,
and welcomed him gladly to the wild greenwood. "Welcome, Sir Knight,
to our greenwood feast! I have waited three hours for a guest, and now
Our Lady has sent you to me we can dine, after we have heard Mass."
The knight said nothing but, "God save you, good Robin, and all your
merry men"; and then very devoutly they heard the three Masses, sung
by Friar Tuck. By this time others of the outlaw band had appeared,
having returned from various errands, and a gay company sat down to a
banquet as good as any the knight had ever eaten.
Robin Converses with the Knight
There was abundance of good things--venison and game of all kinds,
swans and river-fowl and fish, with bread and good wine. Every one
seemed joyous, and merry jests went round that jovial company, till
even the careworn guest began to smile, and then to laugh outright. At
this Robin was well pleased, for he saw that his visitor was a good
man, and was glad to have lifted the burden of his care, even if only
for a few minutes; so he smiled cheerfully at the knight and said: "Be
merry, Sir Knight, I pray, and eat heartily of our food, for it is
with great goodwill that we offer it to you." "Thanks, good Robin,"
replied the knight. "I have enjoyed my dinner to-day greatly; for
three weeks I have not had so good a meal. If I ever pass by this way
again I will do my best to repay you in kind; as good a dinner will I
try to provide as you have given me."
Robin Demands Payment
The outlaw chief seemed to be affronted by this suggestion, and
replied, with a touch of pride in his manner: "Thanks for your
proffer, Sir Knight, but, by Heaven! no man has ever yet deemed me a
glutton. While I eat one dinner I am not accustomed to look eagerly
for another--one is enough for me. But as for you, my guest, I think
it only fitting that you should pay before you go; a yeoman was never
meant to pay for a knight's banquet." The knight blushed, and looked
confused for a moment, and then said: "True, Robin, and gladly would I
reward you for my entertainment, but I have no money worth offering;
even all I have would not be worthy of your acceptance, and I should
be shamed in your eyes, and those of your men."
[Illustration: "I have no money worth offering"]
The Knight's Poverty
"Is that the truth?" asked Robin, making a sign to Little John, who
arose, and, going to the knight's steed, unstrapped a small coffer,
which he brought back and placed before his master. "Search it, Little
John," said he, and "You, sir, tell me the very truth, by your honour
as a belted knight." "It is truth, on my honour, that I have but ten
shillings," replied the knight, "and if Little John searches he will
find no more." "Open the coffer," said Robin, and Little John took it
away to the other side of the trysting oak, where he emptied its
contents on his outspread cloak, and found exactly ten shillings.
Returning to his master, who sat at his ease, drinking and gaily
conversing with his anxious guest, Little John whispered: "The knight
has told the truth," and thereupon Robin exclaimed aloud: "Sir Knight,
I will not take one penny from you; you may rather borrow of me if
you have need of more money, for ten shillings is but a miserable sum
for a knight. But tell me now, if it be your pleasure, how you come to
be in such distress." As he looked inquiringly at the stranger, whose
blush had faded once, only to be renewed as he found his word of
honour doubted, he noticed how thin and threadbare were his clothes
and how worn his russet leather shoes; and he was grieved to see so
noble-seeming a man in such a plight.
The Knight's Story
Yet Robin meant to fathom the cause of the knight's trouble, for then,
perhaps, he would be able to help him, so he continued pitilessly:
"Tell me just one word, which I will keep secret from all other men:
were you driven by compulsion to take up knighthood, or urged to beg
it by reason of the ownership of some small estate; or have you wasted
your old inheritance with fines for brawling and strife, or in
gambling and riotousness, or in borrowing at usury? All of these are
fatal to a good estate."
The knight replied: "Alas! good Robin, none of these hath been my
undoing. My ancestors have all been knights for over a hundred years,
and I have not lived wastefully, but soberly and sparely. As short a
time ago as last year I had over four hundred pounds saved, which I
could spend freely among my neighbours, and my income was four hundred
pounds a year, from my land; but now my only possessions are my wife
and children. This is the work of God's hand, and to Him I commit me
to amend my estate in His own good time."
How the Money was Lost
"But how have you so soon lost this great wealth?" asked Robin
incredulously; and the knight replied sadly: "Ah, Robin, you have no
son, or you would know that a father will give up all to save his
first-born. I have one gallant son, and when I went on the Crusade
with our noble Prince Edward I left him at home to guard my lands, for
he was twenty years old, and was a brave and comely youth. When I
returned, after two years' absence, it was to find him in great
danger, for in a public tournament he had slain in open fight a knight
of Lancashire and a bold young squire. He would have died a shameful
death had I not spent all my ready money and other property to save
him from prison, for his enemies were mighty and unjust; and even that
was not enough, for I was forced to mortgage my estates for more
money. All my land lies in pledge to the abbot of St. Mary's Abbey, in
York, and I have no hope to redeem it. I was riding to York when your
men found me."
The Sum Required
"For what sum is your land pledged?" asked the master-outlaw; and the
knight replied: "The Abbot lent me four hundred pounds, though the
value of the land is far beyond that." "What will you do if you fail
to redeem your land?" asked Robin. "I shall leave England at once, and
journey once more to Jerusalem, and tread again the sacred Hill of
Calvary, and never more return to my native land. That will be my
fate, for I see no likelihood of repaying the loan, and I will not
stay to see strangers holding my father's land. Farewell, my friend
Robin, farewell to you all! Keep the ten shillings; I would have paid
more if I could, but that is the best I can give you." "Have you no
friends at home?" asked Robin; and the knight said: "Many friends I
thought I had, sir. They were very kind and helpful in my days of
prosperity, when I did not need them; now they will not know me, so
much has my poverty seemed to alter my face and appearance."
Robin Offers a Loan
This pitiful story touched the hearts of the simple and kindly
outlaws; they wept for pity, and cared not to hide their tears from
each other, until Robin made them all pledge their guest in bumpers of
good red wine. Then their chief asked, as if continuing his own train
of thought: "Have you any friends who will act as sureties for the
repayment of the loan?" "None at all," replied the knight hopelessly,
"but God Himself, who suffered on the Tree for us." This last reply
angered Robin, who thought it savoured too much of companionship with
the fat and hypocritical monks whom he hated, and he retorted sharply:
"No such tricks for me! Do you think I will take such a surety, or
even one of the saints, in return for good solid gold? Get some more
substantial surety, or no gold shall you have from me. I cannot afford
to waste my money."
The Knight Offers Surety
The knight replied, sighing heavily: "If you will not take these I
have no earthly surety to offer; and in Heaven there is only our dear
Lady. I have served her truly, and she has never failed me till now,
when her servant, the abbot, is playing me so cruel a trick." "Do you
give Our Lady as your surety?" said Robin Hood. "I would take her bond
for any sum, for throughout all England you could find no better
surety than our dear Lady, who has always been gracious to me. She is
enough security. Go, Little John, to my treasury and bring me four
hundred pounds, well counted, with no false or clipped coin therein."
Robin Hood's Gifts
Little John, accompanied by Much, the careful treasurer of the band,
went quickly to the secret place where the master-outlaw kept his
gold. Very carefully they counted out the coins, testing each, to see
that it was of full weight and value. Then, on the suggestion of
Little John, they provided the knight with new clothing, even to boots
and spurs, and finally supplied him with two splendid horses, one for
riding and one to carry his baggage and the coffer of gold.
The guest watched all these preparations with bewildered eyes, and
turned to Robin, crying, "Why have you done all this for me, a perfect
stranger?" "You are no stranger, but Our Lady's messenger. She sent
you to me, and Heaven grant you may prove true."
The Bond of Repayment
"God grant it," echoed the knight. "But, Robin, when shall I repay
this loan, and where? Set me a day, and I will keep it." "Here,"
replied the outlaw, "under this greenwood tree, and in a twelvemonth's
time; so will you have time to regain your friends and gather your
rents from your redeemed lands. Now farewell, Sir Knight; and since it
is not meet for a worthy knight to journey unattended, I will lend you
also my comrade, Little John, to be your squire, and to do you yeoman
service, if need be." The knight bade farewell to Robin and his
generous followers, and was turning to ride away, when he suddenly
stopped and addressed the master-outlaw: "In faith, good Robin, I had
forgotten one thing. You know not my name. I am Sir Richard of the
Lea, and my land lies in Uterysdale." "As for that," said Robin Hood,
"I trouble not myself. You are Our Lady's messenger; that is enough
for me." So Sir Richard rode gladly away, blessing the generous outlaw
who lent him money to redeem his land, and a stout yeoman to defend
the loan.
Sir Richard's Journey
As the knight and his new servant rode on, Sir Richard called to his
man, saying, "I must by all means be in York to-morrow, to pay the
abbot of St. Mary's four hundred pounds; if I fail of my day I shall
lose my land and lordship for ever"; and Little John answered: "Fear
not, master; we will surely be there in time enough." Then they rode
on, and reached York early on the last day of the appointed time.
The Abbot and Prior of St. Mary's
In the meantime the abbot of St. Mary's was counting that Sir
Richard's lands were safely his; he had no pity for the poor unlucky
knight, but rather exulted in the legal cruelty which he could
inflict. Very joyfully he called aloud, early that morn: "A
twelvemonth ago to-day we lent four hundred pounds to a needy knight,
Sir Richard of the Lea, and unless he comes by noon to-day to repay
the money he will lose all his land and be disinherited, and our abbey
will be the richer by a fat estate, worth four hundred pounds a year.
Our Lady grant that he keep not his day." "Shame on you!" cried the
prior. "This poor knight may be ill, or beyond the sea; he may be in
hunger and cold as well as poverty, and it will be a foul wrong if you
declare his land forfeit."
"This is the set day," replied the abbot, "and he is not here." "You
dare not escheat his estates yet," replied the prior stubbornly. "It
is too early in the day; until noon the lands are still Sir Richard's,
and no man shall take them ere the clock strikes. Shame on your
conscience and your greed, to do a good knight such foul wrong! I
would willingly pay a hundred pounds myself to prevent it."
"Beshrew your meddlesome temper!" cried the abbot. "You are always
crossing me! But I have with me the Lord Chief Justice, and he will
declare my legal right." Just at that moment the high cellarer of the
abbey entered to congratulate the abbot on Sir Richard's absence. "He
is dead or ill, and we shall have the spending of four hundred pounds
a year," quoth he.
Sir Richard Returns
On his arrival Sir Richard had quietly gone round to his old tenants
in York, and had a goodly company of them ready to ride with him, but
he was minded to test the charity and true religion of the abbot, and
bade his followers assume pilgrims' robes. Thus attired, the company
rode to the abbey gate, where the porter recognised Sir Richard, and
the news of his coming, carried to the abbot and justice, caused them
great grief; but the prior rejoiced, hoping that a cruel injustice
would be prevented. As they dismounted the porter loudly called grooms
to lead the horses into the stable and have them relieved of their
burdens, but Sir Richard would not allow it, and left Little John to
watch over them at the abbey portal.
The Abbot and Sir Richard
Then Sir Richard came humbly into the hall, where a great banquet was
in progress, and knelt down in courteous salutation to the abbot and
his guests; but the prelate, who had made up his mind what conduct to
adopt, greeted him coldly, and many men did not return his salutation
at all. Sir Richard spoke aloud: "Rejoice, Sir Abbot, for I am come to
keep my day." "That is well," replied the monk, "but hast thou brought
the money?" "No money have I, not one penny," continued Sir Richard
sadly. "Pledge me in good red wine, Sir Justice," cried the abbot
callously; "the land is mine. And what dost thou here, Sir Richard, a
broken man, with no money to pay thy debt?" "I am come to beg you to
grant me a longer time for repayment." "Not one minute past the
appointed hour," said the exultant prelate. "Thou hast broken pledge,
and thy land is forfeit."
[Illustration: "Sir Richard knelt in courteous salutation"]
Sir Richard Implores the Justice
Still kneeling, Sir Richard turned to the justice and said: "Good Sir
Justice, be my friend and plead for me." "No," he replied, "I hold to
the law, and can give thee no help." "Gentle abbot, have pity on me,
and let me have my land again, and I will be the humble servant of
your monastery till I have repaid in full your four hundred pounds."
Then the cruel prelate swore a terrible oath that never should the
knight have his land again, and no one in the hall would speak for
him, kneeling there poor, friendless, and alone; so at last he began
to threaten violence. "Unless I have my land again," quoth he, "some
of you here shall dearly abide it. Now may I see the poor man has no
friends, for none will stand by me in my need."
The Justice Suggests a Compromise
The hint of violence made the abbot furiously angry, and, secure in
his position and the support of the justice, he shouted loudly: "Out,
thou false knight! Out of my hall!" Then at last Sir Richard rose to
his feet in just wrath. "Thou liest, Sir Abbot; foully thou liest! I
was never a false knight. In joust and tourney I have adventured as
far and as boldly as any man alive. There is no true courtesy in thee,
abbot, to suffer a knight to kneel so long." The quarrel now seemed so
serious that the justice intervened, saying to the angry prelate,
"What will you give me if I persuade him to sign a legal deed of
release? Without it you will never hold this land in peace." "You
shall have a hundred pounds for yourself," said the abbot, and the
justice nodded in token of assent.
Sir Richard Pays the Money
Now Sir Richard thought it was time to drop the mask, for noon was
nigh, and he would not risk his land again. Accordingly he cried:
"Nay, but not so easily shall ye have my lands. Even if you were to
pay a thousand pounds more you should not hold my father's estate.
Have here your money back again"; and, calling for Little John, he
bade him bring into the hall his coffer with the bags inside. Then he
counted out on the table four hundred good golden pounds, and said
sternly: "Abbot, here is your money again. Had you but been courteous
to me I would have rewarded you well; now take your money, give me a
quittance, and I will take my lands once more. Ye are all witnesses
that I have kept my day and have paid in full." Thereupon Sir Richard
strode haughtily out of the hall, and rode home gladly to his
recovered lands in Uterysdale, where he and his family ever prayed for
Robin Hood. The abbot of St. Mary's was bitterly enraged, for he had
lost the fair lands of Sir Richard of the Lea and had received a bare
four hundred pounds again. As for Little John, he went back to the
forest and told his master the whole story, to Robin Hood's great
satisfaction, for he enjoyed the chance of thwarting the schemes of a
wealthy and usurious prelate.
Sir Richard Sets Out to Repay the Loan
When a year had passed all but a few days, Sir Richard of the Lea said
to his wife: "Lady, I must shortly go to Barnesdale to repay Robin
Hood the loan which saved my lands, and would fain take him some small
gift in addition; what do you advise?" "Sir Richard, I would take a
hundred bows of Spanish yew and a hundred sheaves of arrows,
peacock-feathered, or grey-goose-feathered; methinks that will be to
Robin a most acceptable gift."
Sir Richard followed his wife's advice, and on the morning of the
appointed day set out to keep his tryst at the outlaws' oak in
Barnesdale, with the money duly counted, and the bows and arrows for
his present to the outlaw chief.
The Wrestling
As he rode, however, at the head of his troop he passed through a
village where there was a wrestling contest, which he stayed to watch.
He soon saw that the victorious wrestler, who was a stranger to the
village, would be defrauded of his well-earned prize, which consisted
of a white bull, a noble charger gaily caparisoned, a gold ring, a
pipe of wine, and a pair of embroidered gloves. This seemed so wrong
to Sir Richard that he stayed to defend the right, for love of Robin
Hood and of justice, and kept the wrestling ring in awe with his
well-appointed troop of men, so that the stranger was allowed to claim
his prize and carry it off. Sir Richard, anxious not to arouse the
hostility of the villagers, bought the pipe of wine from the winner,
and, setting it abroach, allowed all who would to drink; and so, in a
tumult of cheers and blessings, he rode away to keep his tryst. By
this time, however, it was nearly three in the afternoon, and he
should have been there at twelve. He comforted himself with the
thought that Robin would forgive the delay, for the sake of its cause,
and so rode on comfortably enough at the head of his gallant company.
Robin's Impatience
In the meantime Robin had waited patiently at the trysting tree till
noon, but when the hour passed and Sir Richard had not appeared he
began to grow impatient. "Master, let us dine," said Little John. "I
cannot; I fear Our Lady is angered with me, for she has not sent me my
money," returned the leader; but his follower replied: "The money is
not due till sunset, master, and Our Lady is true, and so is Sir
Richard; have no fear." "Do you three walk up through the willow
plantation to Watling Street, as you did last year, and bring me a
guest," said Robin Hood. "He may be a messenger, a minstrel, a poor
man, but he will come in God's name."
The Monks Approach
Again the three yeomen, Little John, Will Scarlet, and Much the
miller's son, took bow in hand and set out for Watling Street; but
this time they had not long to wait, for they at once saw a little
procession approaching. Two black monks rode at the head; then
followed seven sumpter-mules and a train of fifty-two men, so that the
clerics rode in almost royal state. "Seest thou yon monks?" said
Little John. "I will pledge my soul that they have brought our pay."
"But they are fifty-four, and we are but three," said Scarlet. "Unless
we bring them to dinner we dare not face our master," cried Little
John. "Look well to your bows, your strings and arrows, and have stout
hearts and steady hands. I will take the foremost monk, for life or
death."
The Capture of the Black Monk
The three outlaws stepped out into the road from the shelter of the
wood; they bent their bows and held their arrows on the string, and
Little John cried aloud: "Stay, churlish monk, or thou goest to thy
death, and it will be on thine own head! Evil on thee for keeping our
master fasting so long." "Who is your master?" asked the bewildered
monk; and Little John replied: "Robin Hood." The monk tossed his head.
"He is a foul thief," cried he, "and will come to a bad end. I have
heard no good of him all my days." So speaking, he tried to ride
forward and trample down the three yeomen; but Little John cried:
"Thou liest, churlish monk, and thou shalt rue the lie. He is a good
yeoman of this forest, and has bidden thee to dine with him this day";
and Much, drawing his bow, shot the monk to the heart, so that he fell
to the ground dead. The other black monk was taken, but all his
followers fled, except a little page, and a groom who tended the
sumpter-mules; and thus, with Little John's help and guidance, the
panic-stricken cleric and his train of baggage were brought to Robin
under the trysting tree.
[Illustration: "Much shot the monk to the heart"]
The Outlaws' Feast
Robin Hood doffed his cap and greeted his guest with all courtesy, but
the monk would not reply, and Little John's account of their meeting
made it evident that he was a churlish and unwilling guest. However,
he was obliged to celebrate the three usual Masses, was given water
for his ablutions before the banquet, and then when the whole
fellowship was assembled he was set in the place of honour at the
feast, and reverently served by Robin himself. "Be of good cheer, Sir
Monk," said Robin. "Where is your abbey when you are at home, and who
is your patron saint?" "I am of St. Mary's Abbey, in York, and, simple
though I be, I am the high cellarer."
The High Cellarer and the Suretyship
"For Our Lady's sake," said Robin, "we will give this monk the best of
cheer. Drink to me, Sir Monk; the wine is good. But I fear Our Lady is
wroth with me, for she has not sent me my money." "Fear not, master,"
returned Little John; "this monk is her cellarer, and no doubt she has
made him her messenger and he carries our money with him." "That is
likely," replied Robin. "Sir Monk, Our Lady was surety for a little
loan between a good knight and me, and to-day the money was to be
repaid. If you have brought it, pay it to me now, and I will thank you
heartily." The monk was quite amazed, and cried aloud: "I have never
heard of such a suretyship"; and as he spoke he looked so anxiously at
his sumpter-mules that Robin guessed there was gold in their
pack-saddles.
The Monk is Searched
Accordingly the leader feigned sudden anger. "Sir Monk, how dare you
defame our dear Lady? She is always true and faithful, and as you say
you are her servant, no doubt she has made you her messenger to bring
my money. Tell me truly how much you have in your coffers, and I will
thank you for coming so punctually." The monk replied: "Sir, I have
only twenty marks in my bags"; to which Robin answered: "If that be
all, and you have told the truth I will not touch one penny; rather
will I lend you some if you need it; but if I find more, I will leave
none, Sir Monk, for a religious man should have no silver to spend in
luxury." Now the monk looked very greatly alarmed, but he dared make
no protest, as Little John began to search his bags and coffers.
Success of the Search
When Little John opened the first coffer he emptied its contents, as
before, into his cloak, and counted eight hundred pounds, with which
he went to Robin Hood, saying, "Master, the monk has told the truth;
here are twenty marks of his own, and eight hundred pounds which Our
Lady has sent you in return for your loan." When Robin heard that he
cried to the miserable monk: "Did I not say so, monk? Is not Our Lady
the best surety a man could have? Has she not repaid me twice? Go back
to your abbey and say that if ever St. Mary's monks need a friend they
shall find one in Robin Hood."
The Monk Departs
"Where were you journeying?" asked the outlaw leader. "To settle
accounts with the bailiffs of our manors," replied the cellarer; but
he was in truth journeying to London, to obtain powers from the king
against Sir Richard of the Lea. Robin thought for a moment, and then
said: "Ah, then we must search your other coffer," and in spite of the
cellarer's indignant protests he was deprived of all the money that
second coffer contained. Then he was allowed to depart, vowing
bitterly that a dinner in Blythe or Doncaster would have cost him much
less dear.
Sir Richard Arrives
Late that afternoon Sir Richard of the Lea and his little company
arrived at the trysting tree, and full courteously the knight greeted
his deliverer and apologised for his delay. Robin asked of his
welfare, and the knight told of his protection of the poor wrestler,
for which Robin thanked him warmly. When he would fain have repaid the
loan the generous outlaw refused to accept the money, though he took
with hearty thanks the bows and arrows. In answer to the knight's
inquiries, Robin said that he had been paid the money twice over
before he came; and he told, to his debtor's great amusement, the
story of the high cellarer and his eight hundred pounds, and
concluded: "Our Lady owed me no more than four hundred pounds, and she
now gives you, by me, the other four hundred. Take them, with her
blessing, and if ever you need more come to Robin Hood."
So Sir Richard returned to Uterysdale, and long continued to use his
power to protect the bold outlaws, and Robin Hood dwelt securely in
the greenwood, doing good to the poor and worthy, but acting as a
thorn in the sides of all oppressors and tyrants.