The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood
saying, he clapped the flask to his lips and cast his eyes aloft, while
the good wine flooded his throat. Then he passed the pottle to the Cook,
who also said, "Lo, I drink thy health, sweet fellow!" Nor was he
behind Little John in drinking any more than in eating.
"Now," quoth Little John, "thy voice is right round and sweet, jolly
lad. I doubt not thou canst sing a ballad most blithely; canst thou
not?"
"Truly, I have trolled one now and then," quoth the Cook, "yet I would
not sing alone."
"Nay, truly," said Little John, "that were but ill courtesy. Strike up
thy ditty, and I will afterward sing one to match it, if I can.
"So be it, pretty boy," quoth the Cook. "And hast thou e'er heard the
song of the Deserted Shepherdess?"
"Truly, I know not," answered Little John, "but sing thou and let me
hear."
Then the Cook took another draught from the pottle, and, clearing his
throat, sang right sweetly:
THE SONG OF THE DESERTED SHEPHERDESS
"_In Lententime, when leaves wax green,
And pretty birds begin to mate,
When lark cloth sing, and thrush, I ween,
And stockdove cooeth soon and late,
Fair Phillis sat beside a stone,
And thus I heard her make her moan:
'O willow, willow, willow, willow!
I'll take me of thy branches fair
And twine a wreath to deck my hair.
"'The thrush hath taken him a she,
The robin, too, and eke the dove;
My Robin hath deserted me,
And left me for another love.
So here, by brookside, all alone,
I sit me down and make my moan.
O willow, willow, willow, willow!
I'll take me of thy branches fair
And twine a wreath to deck my hair.'
"But ne'er came herring from the sea,
But good as he were in the tide;
Young Corydon came o'er the lea,
And sat him Phillis down beside.
So, presently, she changed her tone,
And 'gan to cease her from her moan,
'O willow, willow, willow, willow!
Thou mayst e'en keep thy garlands fair,
I want them not to deck my hair_.'"
"Now, by my faith," cried Little John, "that same is a right good song,
and hath truth in it, also."
"Glad am I thou likest it, sweet lad," said the Cook. "Now sing thou
one also, for ne'er should a man be merry alone, or sing and list not."
"Then I will sing thee a song of a right good knight of Arthur's court,
and how he cured his heart's wound without running upon the dart again,
as did thy Phillis; for I wot she did but cure one smart by giving
herself another. So, list thou while I sing:
THE GOOD KNIGHT AND HIS LOVE
"_When Arthur, King, did rule this land,
A goodly king was he,
And had he of stout knights a band
Of merry company.
"Among them all, both great and small,
A good stout knight was there,
A lusty childe, and eke a tall,
That loved a lady fair.
"But nought would she to do with he,
But turned her face away;
So gat he gone to far countrye,
And left that lady gay.
"There all alone he made his moan,
And eke did sob and sigh,
And weep till it would move a stone,
And he was like to die.
"But still his heart did feel the smart,
And eke the dire distress,
And rather grew his pain more sharp
As grew his body less.
"Then gat he back where was good sack
And merry com panye,
And soon did cease to cry 'Alack!'
When blithe and gay was he.
"From which I hold, and feel full bold
To say, and eke believe,
That gin the belly go not cold
The heart will cease to grieve_."
"Now, by my faith," cried the Cook, as he rattled the pottle against the
sideboard, "I like that same song hugely, and eke the motive of it,
which lieth like a sweet kernel in a hazelnut"
"Now thou art a man of shrewd opinions," quoth Little John, "and I love
thee truly as thou wert my brother."
"And I love thee, too. But the day draweth on, and I have my cooking to
do ere our master cometh home; so let us e'en go and settle this brave
fight we have in hand."
"Ay, marry," quoth Little John, "and that right speedily. Never have I
been more laggard in fighting than in eating and drinking. So come thou
straight forth into the passageway, where there is good room to swing a
sword, and I will try to serve thee."
Then they both stepped forth into the broad passage that led to the
Steward's pantry, where each man drew his sword again and without more
ado fell upon the other as though he would hew his fellow limb from
limb. Then their swords clashed upon one another with great din, and
sparks flew from each blow in showers. So they fought up and down the
hall for an hour and more, neither striking the other a blow, though
they strove their best to do so; for both were skillful at the fence; so
nothing came of all their labor. Ever and anon they rested, panting;
then, after getting their wind, at it they would go again more fiercely
than ever. At last Little John cried aloud, "Hold, good Cook!" whereupon
each rested upon his sword, panting.
"Now will I make my vow," quoth Little John, "thou art the very best
swordsman that ever mine eyes beheld. Truly, I had thought to carve
thee ere now."
"And I had thought to do the same by thee," quoth the Cook, "but I have
missed the mark somehow."
"Now I have been thinking within myself," quoth Little John, "what we
are fighting for; but albeit I do not rightly know."
"Why, no more do I," said the Cook. "I bear no love for that pursy
Steward, but I thought that we had engaged to fight with one another and
that it must be done."
"Now," quoth Little John, "it doth seem to me that instead of striving
to cut one another's throats, it were better for us to be boon
companions. What sayst thou, jolly Cook, wilt thou go with me to
Sherwood Forest and join with Robin Hood's band? Thou shalt live a merry
life within the woodlands, and sevenscore good companions shalt thou
have, one of whom is mine own self. Thou shalt have three suits of
Lincoln green each year, and forty marks in pay."
"Now, thou art a man after mine own heart!" cried the Cook right
heartily, "and, as thou speakest of it, that is the very service for me.
I will go with thee, and that right gladly. Give me thy palm, sweet
fellow, and I will be thine own companion from henceforth. What may be
thy name, lad?"
"Men do call me Little John, good fellow."
"How? And art thou indeed Little John, and Robin Hood's own right-hand
man? Many a time and oft I heard of thee, but never did I hope to set
eyes upon thee. And thou art indeed the famous Little John!" And the
Cook seemed lost in amazement, and looked upon his companion with open
eyes.
"I am Little John, indeed, and I will bring to Robin Hood this day a
right stout fellow to join his merry band. But ere we go, good friend,
it seemeth to me to be a vast pity that, as we have had so much of the
Sheriff's food, we should not also carry off some of his silver plate to
Robin Hood, as a present from his worship."
"Ay, marry is it," said the Cook. And so they began hunting about, and
took as much silver as they could lay hands upon, clapping it into a
bag, and when they had filled the sack they set forth to Sherwood
Forest.
Plunging into the woods, they came at last to the greenwood tree, where
they found Robin Hood and threescore of his merry men lying upon the
fresh green grass. When Robin and his men saw who it was that came,
they leaped to their feet. "Now welcome!" cried Robin Hood. "Now
welcome, Little John! For long hath it been since we have heard from
thee, though we all knew that thou hadst joined the Sheriff's service.
And how hast thou fared all these long days?"
"Right merrily have I lived at the Lord Sheriff's," answered Little
John, "and I have come straight thence. See, good master! I have
brought thee his cook, and even his silver plate." Thereupon he told
Robin Hood and his merry men that were there, all that had befallen him
since he had left them to go to the Fair at Nottingham Town. Then all
shouted with laughter, except Robin Hood; but he looked grave.
"Nay, Little John," said he, "thou art a brave blade and a trusty
fellow. I am glad thou hast brought thyself back to us, and with such a
good companion as the Cook, whom we all welcome to Sherwood. But I like
not so well that thou hast stolen the Sheriff's plate like some paltry
thief. The Sheriff hath been punished by us, and hath lost three hundred
pounds, even as he sought to despoil another; but he hath done nought
that we should steal his household plate from him."
Though Little John was vexed with this, he strove to pass it off with a
jest. "Nay, good master," quoth he, "if thou thinkest the Sheriff gave
us not the plate, I will fetch him, that he may tell us with his own
lips he giveth it all to us." So saying he leaped to his feet, and was
gone before Robin could call him back.
Little John ran for full five miles till he came to where the Sheriff of
Nottingham and a gay company were hunting near the forest. When Little
John came to the Sheriff he doffed his cap and bent his knee. "God save
thee, good master," quoth he.
"Why, Reynold Greenleaf!" cried the Sheriff, "whence comest thou and
where hast thou been?"
"I have been in the forest," answered Little John, speaking amazedly,
"and there I saw a sight such as ne'er before man's eyes beheld! Yonder
I saw a young hart all in green from top to toe, and about him was a
herd of threescore deer, and they, too, were all of green from head to
foot. Yet I dared not shoot, good master, for fear lest they should slay
me."
"Why, how now, Reynold Greenleaf," cried the Sheriff, "art thou dreaming
or art thou mad, that thou dost bring me such, a tale?"
"Nay, I am not dreaming nor am I mad," said Little John, "and if thou
wilt come with me, I will show thee this fair sight, for I have seen it
with mine own eyes. But thou must come alone, good master, lest the
others frighten them and they get away."
So the party all rode forward, and Little John led them downward into
the forest.
"Now, good master," quoth he at last, "we are nigh where I saw this
herd."
Then the Sheriff descended from his horse and bade them wait for him
until he should return; and Little John led him forward through a close
copse until suddenly they came to a great open glade, at the end of
which Robin Hood sat beneath the shade of the great oak tree, with his
merry men all about him. "See, good Master Sheriff," quoth Little John,
"yonder is the hart of which I spake to thee."
At this the Sheriff turned to Little John and said bitterly, "Long ago I
thought I remembered thy face, but now I know thee. Woe betide thee,
Little John, for thou hast betrayed me this day."
In the meantime Robin Hood had come to them. "Now welcome, Master
Sheriff," said he. "Hast thou come today to take another feast with
me?"
"Nay, Heaven forbid!" said the Sheriff in tones of deep earnest. "I care
for no feast and have no hunger today."
"Nevertheless," quoth Robin, "if thou hast no hunger, maybe thou hast
thirst, and well I know thou wilt take a cup of sack with me. But I am
grieved that thou wilt not feast with me, for thou couldst have victuals
to thy liking, for there stands thy Cook."
Then he led the Sheriff, willy-nilly, to the seat he knew so well
beneath the greenwood tree.
"Ho, lads!" cried Robin, "fill our good friend the Sheriff a right
brimming cup of sack and fetch it hither, for he is faint and weary."
Then one of the band brought the Sheriff a cup of sack, bowing low as he
handed it to him; but the Sheriff could not touch the wine, for he saw
it served in one of his own silver flagons, on one of his own silver
plates.
"How now," quoth Robin, "dost thou not like our new silver service? We
have gotten a bag of it this day." So saying, he held up the sack of