Savior” for more than a fortnight, resolves to go to mass at Nottingham.
Much advises that he take twelve yeomen with him for safety, but Robin
will have only Little John. They improve the time, while on their way to
church, by shooting for a wager. Robin scornfully offers John three to
one; but John nevertheless wins five shillings of his master, at which
Robin loses his temper, and strikes John. John will be his man no more,
and returns to the wood. Robin, sorry for this consequence of his bad
humor, goes on to Nottingham alone. A monk at Saint Mary’s church
recognizes Robin, and gives information to the sheriff, who comes with a
large force to arrest the king’s felon. Robin kills or wounds many of
the posse, but his sword breaks upon the sheriff’s head. In some way
which we do not learn, owing to verses lost,[85] Robin’s men hear that
their master has been taken. They are all out of their wits but Little
John. Mild Mary, he tells his comrades, will never forsake one who has
been so long devoted to her, and he, with her help, will see to the
monk. The next day John and Much waylay the monk, who is carrying
letters to the king conveying the tidings of Robin’s capture; they kill
him, take the letters, and carry them to the king themselves. The king
gives them twenty pounds for their news, and makes them yeomen of the
crown; he sends his privy seal to the sheriff by John, commanding that
Robin Hood shall be brought to him unhurt. The sheriff, upon receiving
the seal, makes John good cheer, and goes to bed heavy with wine. John
and Much, while the sheriff is sleeping, make their way to the jail.
John rouses the porter, runs him through,[86] and takes his keys,
unbinds Robin Hood, and puts a good sword in his hand; they leap from
the wall where it is lowest. The sheriff finds the jailer dead in the
morning, and searches the town for his captive; but Robin is in merry
Sherwood. Farewell now, says John; I have done thee a good turn for an
ill. Nay, says Robin, I make thee master of my men and me. So shall it
never be, answers John; I care only to be a comrade. The king hears that
Robin has escaped, and that the sheriff is afraid to show himself.
Little John has beguiled us both, says the king. I made them yeomen of
the crown, and gave them pay with my own hand! Little John loves Robin
Hood better than he does us. Say no more. John has beguiled us all.
Too much could not be said in praise of this ballad, but nothing need be
said. It is very perfection in its kind; and yet we have others equally
good, and beyond doubt should have had more, if they had been written
down early, as this was, and had not been left to the chances of
tradition. Even writing would not have saved all, but writing has saved
this (in large part), and in excellent form.
The landscape background of the first two stanzas has been often
praised, and its beauty will never pall. It may be called landscape or
prelude, for both eyes and ears are addressed, and several others of
these woodland ballads have a like symphony or setting: Adam Bell, Robin
Hood and the Potter, Guy of Gisborne, even the much later ballad of The
Noble Fisherman. It is to be observed that the story of the outlaw Fulk
Fitz Warine, which has other traits in common with Robin Hood ballads,
begins somewhat after the same fashion.[87]
Robin Hood’s devotion to the Virgin, st. 34, is a feature which
reappears in Robin Hood and the Potter, Guy of Gisborne, Robin Hood and
the Curtal Friar, and above all in The Gest. His profound piety, as
evinced in stanzas 6, 7, and again in 8, 9 of The Gest, is commemorated
by Bower in a passage in the Scotichronicon, of about the same date as
the manuscript of the present ballad (1450), which we have every reason
to assume to be derived from a lost ballad.[88] Robin Hood had mass
regularly sung at Barnsdale, nor would he suffer the office to be
interrupted for the most pressing occasion. (We know from The Gest, st.
440, that he had a pretty chapel there, dedicated to Mary Magdalen.) One
day, while so engaged, he was informed that the sheriff and his men, old
foes of his, had tracked him to the very retired part of the forest
where the service was going on, and was urged to fly with his best
speed. This, for reverence of the sacrament, which he was then most
devoutly adoring, he utterly refused to do, and then, while the rest
were fearing for their lives, trusting in him whom he worshipped, fell
upon his enemies, with a few of his followers who had rallied to him,
and easily put them to rout. Enriched with their spoil and ransom, he
was led to hold the ministers of the church (but apparently not “bishops
and archbishops,” Gest, st. 15) and masses in greater veneration than
ever, mindful of the common saw, God hears the man who often hears the
mass.[89]
There is a general resemblance between the rescue of Robin Hood in
stanzas 61–81 and that of William of Cloudesly in Adam Bell, 56–94, and
the precaution suggested by Much in the eighth stanza corresponds to the
warning given by Adam in the eighth stanza of the other ballad. There is
a verbal agreement in stanzas 71 of the first and 66 of the second.[90]
Such agreements or repetitions are numerous in the Robin Hood ballads,
and in other traditional ballads, where similar situations occur.
Robin Hood’s rescue of Little John, in Guy of Gisborne, after
quarrelling with him on a fanciful provocation, is a partial offset for
Little John’s heart-stirring generosity in this ballad. We have already
had several cases of ballads in which the principal actors exchange
parts.
That portion of ‘Robin Hood’s Death’ in which Robin Hood gets angry with
Scarlet, and shoots with Little John on his way to be let blood, may
have been transferred, at least in part, from Robin Hood and the Monk.
It is hardly worth the while to ask whether the monk in this ballad is
the same who is pillaged in The Gest. So rational a suggestion as that
more than one monk must have fallen into Robin’s hands, in the course of
his long and lucrative career, may not be conclusive, but we may rest
certain that there were many Robin Hood ballads besides the few old ones
which have come down to us; and if so, there would be many variations
upon so agreeable a topic as the depleting of overstocked friars.
Translated, after Jamieson, by Grundtvig, Engelske og skotske
Folkeviser, p. 148, No 24; by Anastasius Grün, p. 89.
1
In som_er_, when þe shawes be sheyn_e_,
And leves be large and long,
Hit is full mery i_n_ feyre foreste
To here þe foulys song:
2
To se þe dere draw to þe dale,
And leve þe hilles hee,
And shadow he_m_ i_n_ þe levës grene,
Vnd_e_r the grene-wode tre.
3
Hit befel on Whitsontide,
Erly in a May mornyng,
The son vp feyre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.
4
‘This is a mery mornyng,’ seid Litull John,
‘Be hym þ_a_t dyed on tre;
A more mery man þen I am one
Lyves not in Cristiantë.
5
‘Pluk vp þi hert, my dere mayst_er_,’
Litull John can sey,
‘And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
In a mornyng of May.’
6
‘Ȝe, on thyng greves me,’ seid Robyn,
‘And does my hert mych woo;
Þ_a_t I may not no solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.
7
‘Hit is a fourtnet and more,’ seid he,
‘Syn I my sauyo_u_r see;
To day wil I to Notyngham,’ seid Robyn,
‘W_i_t_h_ þe myght of mylde Marye.’
8
Than spake Moche, þe myln_er_ sun,
Eu_er_ more wel hym betyde!
‘Take twelue of þi wyght ȝemen,
Well weppynd, be þi side.
Such on wolde þi selfe slon,
Þ_a_t twelue dar not abyde.’
9
‘Of all my mery men,’ seid Robyn,
‘Be my feith I wil non haue,
But Litull John shall beyre my bow,
Til þ_a_t me list to drawe.’
10
‘Þ_o_u shall beyre þin own,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Maist_er_, and I wyl beyre myne,
And we well shete a peny,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Vnd_e_r þe grene-wode lyne.’
11
‘I wil not shete a peny,’ seyd Robyn Hode,
‘In feith, Litull John, w_i_t_h_ the,
But eu_er_ for on as þ_o_u shet_is_,’ seid_e_ Robyn,
‘In feith I holde þe thre.’
12
Thus shet þei forth, þese ȝemen too,
Bothe at buske and brome,
Til Litull John wan of his maist_er_
Fiue shillings to hose and shone.
13
A ferly strife fel þem betwene,
As they went bi the wey;
Litull John seid he had won fiue shillings,
And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.
14
W_i_t_h_ þ_a_t Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jon,
And smote hym w_i_t_h_ his hande;
Litul Jon waxed wroth þ_erw_it_h_,
And pulled out his bright bronde.
15
‘Were þ_o_u not my maist_er_,’ seid Litull John,
‘Þ_o_u shuldis by hit ful sore;
Get þe a man wher þ_o_u w[ilt],
For þ_o_u get_is_ me no more.’
16
Þen Robyn goes to Notyngh_a_m,
Hym selfe mornyng allone,
And Litull John to mery Scherwode,
The pathes he knew ilkone.
17
Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,
S_er_tenly w_i_t_h_outen layn,
He prayed to God and myld Mary
To bryng hym out saue agayn.
18
He gos in to Seynt Mary chirch,
And kneled down before the rode;
Alle þ_a_t eu_er_ were þe church w_i_t_h_in
Beheld wel Robyn Hode.
19
Beside hym stod a gret-hedid munke,
I pray to God woo he be!
Fful sone he knew gode Robyn,
As sone as he hym se.
20
Out at þe durre he ran,
Fful sone and anon;
Alle þe ȝatis of Notyngham
He made to be sparred eu_er_ychon.
21
‘Rise vp,’ he seid, ‘þ_o_u prowde schereff,
Buske þe and make þe bowne;
I haue spyed þe kyngg_is_ felon,
Ffor sothe he is in þ_i_s town.
22
‘I haue spyed þe false felon,
As he stond_is_ at his masse;
Hit is long of þe,’ seide þe munke,
‘And eu_er_ he fro vs passe.
23
‘Þ_i_s trayt_u_r name is Robyn Hode,
Vnd_e_r þe grene-wode lynde;
He robbyt me onys of a hundred pound,
Hit shalle neu_er_ out of my mynde.’
24
Vp þen rose þ_i_s prowd_e_ shereff,
And radly made hym ȝare;
Many was þe mod_er_ son
To þe kyrk w_i_t_h_ hym can fare.
25
In at þe durres þei throly thrast,
W_i_t_h_ staves ful gode wone;
‘Alas, alas!’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘Now mysse I Litull John.’
26
But Robyn toke out a too-hond sworde,
Þ_a_t hangit down be his kne;
Þ_e_r as þe schereff and his men stode thyckust,
Thedurward_e_ wolde he.
27
Thryes thorowout þem he ran þen,
For soþe as I yow sey,
And woundyt mony a mod_er_ son,
And twelue he slew þ_a_t day.
28
His sworde vpon þe schireff hed
S_er_tanly he brake in too;
‘Þe smyth þ_a_t þe made,’ seid Robyn,
‘I pray to God wyrke hym woo!
29
‘Ffor now am I weppynlesse,’ seid Robyn,
‘Alasse! agayn my wyll_e_;
But if I may fle þese traytors fro,
I wot þei wil me kyll.’
30
Robyn in to the churchë ran,
Throout hem eu_er_ilkon,
* * * * *
31
Su_m_ fel in swonyng as þei were dede,
And lay stil as any stone;
Non of theym were i_n_ her mynde
But only Litull Jon.
32
‘Let be yo_u_r rule,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Ffor his luf þ_a_t dyed on tre,
Ȝe þ_a_t shulde be duȝty men;
Het is gret shame to se.
33
‘Oure maist_er_ has bene hard bystode
And ȝet scapyd away;
Pluk vp yo_u_r hert_is_, and leve þ_i_s mone,
And harkyn what I shal say.
34
‘He has s_er_uyd Oure Lady many a day,
And ȝet wil, securly;
Þ_er_for I trust in hir specialy
No wyckud deth shal he dye.
35
‘Þ_er_for be glad,’ seid Litul John,
‘And let þ_i_s mournyng be;
And I shal be þe munk_is_ gyde,
W_i_t_h_ þe myght of mylde Mary.
36
. . . . . . .
‘We will go but we too;
And I mete hym,’ seid Litul John,
. . . . . . .
37
‘Loke þ_a_t ȝe kepe wel owre tristil-tre,
Vnd_e_r þe levys smale,
And spare non of this venyson,
Þ_a_t gose in thys vale.’
38
Fforþe þen went these ȝemen too,
Litul John and Moche on fere,
And lokid on Moch emys hows,
Þe hye way lay full nere.
39
Litul John stode at a wyndow i_n_ þe mornyng,
And lokid forþ at a stage;
He was war wher þe munke came ridyng,
And w_i_t_h_ hym a litul page.
40
‘Be my feith,’ seid Litul John to Moch,
‘I can þe tel tithyngus gode;
I se wher þe munke cu_m_ys rydyng,
I know hym be his wyde hode.’
41
They went in to the way, þese ȝeme_n_ boþe,
As curtes men and hende;
Þei spyrred tithyngus at þe munke,
As they hade bene his frende.
42
‘Ffro whens come ȝe?’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Tel vs tithyngus, I yow pray,
Off a false owtlay, [callid Robyn Hode,]
Was takyn ȝist_e_rday.
43
‘He robbyt me and my felowes boþe
Of twenti marke in s_er_ten;
If þ_a_t false owtlay be takyn,
Ffor soþe we wolde be fayn.’
44
‘So did he me,’ seid þe munke,
‘Of a hundred pound and more;
I layde furst hande hym apon,
Ȝe may thonke me þ_er_fore.’
45
‘I pray God thanke you,’ seid Litull John,
‘And we wil when we may;
We wil go w_i_t_h_ you, w_i_t_h_ yo_u_r leve,
And bryng yow on yo_u_r way.
46
‘Ffor Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,
I tell you in certen;
If þei wist ȝe rode þ_i_s way,
In feith ȝe shulde be slayn.’
47
As þei went talking be þe way,
The munke and Litull John,
John toke þe munk_i_s horse be þe hede,
Fful sone and anon.
48
Johne toke þe munk_i_s horse be þe hed,
Ffor soþe as I yow say;
So did Much þe litull page,
Ffor he shulde not scape away.
49
Be þe golett of þe hode
John pulled þe munke down;
John was nothyng of hym agast,
He lete hym falle on his crown.
50
Litull John was so[re] agrevyd,
And drew owt his swerde in hye;
This munke saw he shulde be ded,
Lowd mercy can he crye.
51
‘He was my maist_er_,’ seid Litull John,
‘Þ_a_t þ_o_u hase browȝt in bale;
Shalle þ_o_u neu_er_ cu_m_ at our kyng,
Ffor to telle hym tale.’
52
John smote of þe munk_i_s hed,
No long_er_ wolde he dwell;
So did Moch þe litull page,
Ffor ferd lest he wolde tell.
53
Þ_e_r þei beryed hem boþe,
In nouþ_er_ mosse nor lyng,
And Litull John and Much infere
Bare þe letturs to oure kyng.
54
. . . . . . .
He knelid down vpon his kne:
‘God ȝow saue, my lege lorde,
Ih_es_us yow saue and se!
55
‘God yow saue, my lege kyng!’
To speke John was full bolde;
He gaf hym þe letturs i_n_ his hond,
The kyng did hit vnfold.
56
Þe kyng red þe letturs anon,
And seid, So mot I the,
Þ_er_ was neu_er_ ȝoman i_n_ mery Inglond
I longut so sore to se.
57
‘Wher is þe munke þ_a_t þese shuld haue brouȝt?’
Oure kyng can say:
‘Be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,
‘He dyed aft_e_r þe way.’
58
Þe kyng gaf Moch and Litul Jon
Twenti pound in s_er_tan,
And made þeim ȝemen of þe crown,
And bade þeim go agayn.
59
He gaf John þe seel in hand,
The sheref for to bere,
To bryng Robyn hym to,
And no man do hym dere.
60
John toke his leve at oure kyng,
Þe sothe as I yow say;
Þe next way to Notyngham
To take, he ȝede þe way.
61
Whan John came to Notyngham
The ȝatis were sparred ychon;
John callid vp þe porter,
He answerid sone anon.
62
‘What is þe cause,’ seid Litul Jon,
‘Þ_o_u sparris þe ȝates so fast?’
‘Because of Robyn Hode,’ seid [þe] porter,
‘In depe prison is cast.
63
‘John and Moch and Wyll Scathlok,
Ffor sothe as I yow say,
Þei slew oure men vpon our wallis,
And sawten vs eu_er_y day.’
64
Litull John spyrred aft_e_r þe schereff,
And sone he hym fonde;
He oppyned þe kyngus p_ri_ue seell,
And gaf hym in his honde.
65
Whan þe scheref saw þe kyngus seell,
He did of his hode anon:
‘Wher is þe munke þ_a_t bare þe letturs?’
He seid to Litull John.
66
‘He is so fayn of hym,’ seid Litul John,
‘Ffor soþe as I yow say,
He has made hym abot of Westmynst_er_,
A lorde of þ_a_t abbay.’
67
The scheref made John gode chere,
And gaf hym wyne of the best;
At nyȝt þei went to her bedde,
And eu_er_y man to his rest.
68
When þe scheref was on slepe,
Dronken of wyne and ale,
Litul John and Moch for soþe
Toke þe way vnto þe jale.
69
Litul John callid vp þe jayler,
And bade hym rise anon;
He seyd Robyn Hode had brokyn p_ri_son,
And out of hit was gon.
70
The porter rose anon s_er_tan,
As sone as he herd John calle;
Litul John was redy w_i_t_h_ a swerd,
And bare hym to þe walle.
71
‘Now wil I be porter,’ seid Litul John,
‘And take þe keyes in honde:’
He toke þe way to Robyn Hode,
And sone he hym vnbonde.
72
He gaf hym a gode swerd i_n_ his hond,
His hed [ther]w_i_t_h_ for to kepe,
And ther as þe walle was lowyst
Anon down can þei lepe.
73
Be þ_a_t þe cok began to crow,
The day began to spryng;
The scheref fond þe jaylier ded,
The comyn bell made he ryng.
74
He made a crye thoroout al þe tow[n],
Whed_e_r he be ȝoman or knave,
Þ_a_t cowþe bryng hym Robyn Hode,
His warison he shuld haue.
75
‘Ffor I dar neu_er_,’ said þe scheref,
‘Cu_m_ before oure kyng;
Ffor if I do, I wot s_er_ten
Ffor soþe he wil me heng.’
76
The scheref made to seke Notyngham,
Bothe be strete and stye,
And Robyn was in mery Scherwode,
As liȝt as lef on lynde.
77
Then bespake gode Litull John,
To Robyn Hode can he say,
I haue done þe a gode turne for an euyll,
Quyte þe whan þ_o_u may.
78
‘I haue done þe a gode turne,’ seid Litull John,
‘Ffor sothe as I yow say;
I haue brouȝt þe vnd_e_r grene-wod_e_ lyne;
Ffare wel, and haue gode day.’
79
‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘So shall hit neu_er_ be;
I make þe maist_er_,’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘Off alle my men and me.’
80
‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,
‘So shalle hit neu_er_ be;
But lat me be a felow,’ seid Litull John,
‘No nod_e_r kepe I be.’
81
Thus John gate Robyn Hod out of p_ri_son,
S_er_tan w_i_t_h_outyn layn;
Whan his men saw hym hol and sounde,
Ffor sothe they were full fayne.
82
They filled in wyne, and made hem glad,
Vnd_e_r þe levys smale,
And ȝete pastes of venyson,
Þat gode was w_i_t_h_ ale.
83
Than worde came to oure kyng
How Robyn Hode was gon,
And how þe scheref of Notyngham
Durst neu_er_ loke hym vpon.
84
Then bespake oure cu_m_ly kyng,
In an angur hye:
Litull John hase begyled þe schereff,
In faith so hase he me.
85
Litul John has begyled vs bothe,
And þ_a_t full wel I se;
Or ellis þe schereff of Notyngham
Hye hongut shuld_e_ he be.
86
‘I made hem ȝemen of þe crowne,
And gaf hem fee w_i_t_h_ my hond;
I gaf hem grith,’ seid oure kyng,
‘Thorowout all mery Inglond.
87
‘I gaf theym grith,’ þen seid oure kyng;
‘I say, so mot I the,
Ffor sothe soch a ȝeman as he is on
In all Inglond ar not thre.
88
‘He is trew to his maist_er_,’ seid our kyng;
‘I sey, be swete Seynt John,
He louys bett_e_r Robyn Hode
Then he dose vs ychon.
89
‘Robyn Hode is eu_er_ bond to hym,
Bothe in strete and stalle;
Speke no more of this mat_er_,’ seid oure kyng,
‘But John has begyled vs alle.’
90
Thus endys the talkyng of the munke
And Robyn Hode i-wysse;
God, þ_a_t is eu_er_ a crowned kyng,
Bryng vs all to his blisse!
* * * * *
#a.#
_A curl over final_ n, _as in_ Robyn, John, on, sawten, _etc.; a
crossed_ h, _as in_ John, mych, _etc.; crossed_ ll, _as in_
full, litull, well, _etc.; a hooked_ g, _as in_ mornyng, kyng,
_etc., have been treated as not significant. As to_ Robyn, _cf._
7^3, 11^{1,3}, 13^4, 14^1, _etc., where there is simple_ n; _as
to_ John, 10^{1,3}, 14^3, 31^4, _etc., where we have_ Jon; _as
to_ Litull, 14^{1,3}, 39^1, 68^3, 69^1, 70^3, 71^1, _where we
have_ Litul. And _is printed for_ &; be twene, be fore, be side,
be held, be spake, þer with, thorow out, with outen, _etc., are
joined_.
3^1. tide _no longer legible_.
7^1. seid h ..., _illegible after_ h.
8^{3,6}. xij.
10^1. þ^i nown.
12^4, 13^3. v s’.
14^1. lyed _before_ Robyn _struck through_.
23^3. of a C li.
27^1. thorow at: _but cf._ 30^2.
27^4. xij.
30^1. Robyns men to the churche ran: _Madden. There are no men
with Robin. “This line is almost illegible. It certainly begins
with_ Robyn, _and the second word is not_ men. _I read it_,
Robyn into the churche ran.” _Skeat._
30^2. _A gap here between two pages, and there are commonly six
stanzas to a page. At least six are required for the capture of
Robin Hood and the conveying of the tidings to his men._
43^2. Of xx.
44^1. me me _in my copy, probably by inadvertence_.
44^2. Of a C li.
53^1. hym.
56^1. Þ^e kyng.
58^2. xx li.
77^4. #b# _has_ Quit me, _which is perhaps better_.
78^2. _perhaps_ saie; _nearly illegible_.
90^2. I wysse.
#b.#
69^3. þe p_ri_s_o_n.
70^4. throw to.
71^1. be jayler.
71^2. toke.
72^2. hed ther with.
72^3. wallis wer_e_.
72^4. down ther they.
77^2. [t]hen _for_ can (?).
77^4. Quit me.
78^2. the saye.
78^3. þe grene.
79^{1,3}. Hode _wanting_.
120
ROBIN HOOD’S DEATH
#A.# ‘Robin Hoode his Death,’ Percy MS., p. 21; Hales and Furnivall,
I, 53.
#B.# ‘Robin Hood’s Death and Burial.’ #a.# The English Archer,
Paisley, John Neilson, 1786: Bodleian Library, Douce, F. F. 71 (6),
p. 81. #b.# The English Archer, York, printed by N. Nickson, in
Feasegate, n. d.: Bodleian Library, Douce, F. F. 71 (4), p. 70.
#B# is given in Ritson’s Robin Hood, 1795, II, 183, “from a collation of
two different copies” of a York garland, “containing numerous
variations, a few of which are retained in the margin.”
#A.# Robin Hood is ailing, and is convinced that the only course for him
is to go to Kirklees priory for blooding. Will Scarlet cannot counsel
this, unless his master take fifty bowmen with him; for a yeoman lives
there with whom there is sure to be a quarrel. Robin bids Scarlet stay
at home, if he is afraid. Scarlet, seeing that his master is wroth, will
say no more.[91] Robin Hood will have no one go with him but Little
John, who shall carry his bow. John proposes that they shall shoot for a
penny along the way, and Robin assents.
The opening of the ballad resembles that of Robin Hood and the Monk.
There Robin’s soul is ill at ease, as here his body, and he resolves to
go to Nottingham for mass; Much, the Miller’s son, advises a guard of
twelve yeomen; Robin will take none with him except John, to bear his
bow;[92] and John suggests that they shall shoot for a penny as they go.
A very interesting passage of the story here followed, of which we can
barely guess the contents, owing to nine stanzas having been torn away.
Robin Hood and John keep up their shooting all the way, until they come
to a black water, crossed by a plank. On the plank an old woman is
kneeling, and banning Robin Hood. Robin Hood asks why, but the answer is
lost, and it is not probable that we shall ever know: out of her proper
malignancy, surely, or because she is a hired witch, for Robin is the
friend of lowly folk. But if this old woman is banning, others, no doubt
women, are weeping, for somehow they have learned that he is to be let
blood that day at the priory, and foresee that ill will come of it.
Robin is disturbed by neither banning nor weeping; the prioress is his
cousin, and would not harm him for the world. So they shoot on until
they come to Kirklees.
Robin makes the prioress a present of twenty pound, with a promise of
more when she wants, and she falls to work with her bleeding-irons. The
thick blood comes, and then the thin, and Robin knows that there has
been treason. John asks, What cheer? Robin answers, Little good. Nine
stanzas are again wanting, and again in a place where we are not helped
by the other version. John must call from the outside of the building,
judging by what follows. An altercation seems to pass between Robin and
some one; we should suppose between Robin and Red Roger. Robin slips out
of a shot-window, and as he does so is thrust through the side by Red
Roger. Robin swoops off Red Roger’s head, and leaves him for dogs to
eat. Then Red Roger must be below, and John is certainly below. He would
have seen to Red Roger had they both been within. But John must be under
a window on a different side of the building from that whence Robin
issues, for otherwise, again, he would have seen to Red Roger. We are
driven to suppose that the words in st. 19 pass between Robin above and
Roger below.
Though Robin is near his last breath, he has, he says, life enough to
take his housel. He must get it in a very irregular way, but he trusts
it will “bestand” him.[93] John asks his master’s leave to set fire to
Kirklees, but Robin will not incur God’s blame by harming any woman
[“widow”] at his latter end. Let John make his grave of gravel and
greet, set his sword at his head, his arrows at his feet, and lay his
bow by his side.[94]
#B#, though found only in late garlands, is in the fine old strain.
Robin Hood says to Little John that he can no longer shoot matches, his
arrows will not flee; he must go to a cousin to be let blood. He goes,
alone, to Kirkley nunnery, and is received with a show of cordiality.
His cousin bloods him, locks him up in the room, and lets him bleed all
the livelong day, and until the next day at noon. Robin bethinks himself
of escaping through a casement, but is not strong enough. He sets his
horn to his mouth and blows thrice, but so wearily that Little John,
hearing, thinks his master must be nigh to death. John comes to Kirkley,
breaks the locks, and makes his way to Robin’s presence. He begs the
boon of setting fire to Kirkley, but Robin has never hurt woman in all
his life, and will not at his end. He asks for his bow to shoot his last
shot, and where the arrow lights there his grave shall be.[95] His grave
is to be of gravel and green, long enough and broad enough, a sod under
his head, another at his feet, and his bow by his side, that men may
say, Here lies bold Robin Hood.
The account of Robin Hood’s death which is given in The Gest, agrees as
to the main items with what we find in #A#. The prioress of Kirkesly,
his near kinswoman, betrayed him when he went to the nunnery to be let
blood, and this she did upon counsel with Sir Roger of Donkester, with
whom she was intimate. The Life of Robin Hood in the Sloane MS, which is
mostly made up from The Gest, naturally repeats this story.
Grafton, in his Chronicle, 1569, citing “an olde and auncient pamphlet,”
says: For the sayd Robert Hood, beyng afterwardes troubled with
sicknesse, came to a certain nonry in Yorkshire, called Bircklies,
where, desiryng to be let blood, he was betrayed and bled to death:
edition of 1809, p. 221. So the Harleian MS, No 1233, article 199, of
the middle of the seventeenth century, and not worth citing, but cited
by Ritson. According to Stanihurst, in Holinshed’s Ireland (p. 28 of ed.
of 1808), after Robin Hood had been betrayed at a nunnery in Scotland
called Bricklies, Little John was fain to flee the realm, and went to
Ireland, where he executed an extraordinary shot, by which he thought
his safety compromised, and so removed to Scotland, and died there.