The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood
happening at the fair, and how it was like to go hard with young David;
so he told his tale, and quoth he, "It was this, good Robin, that kept
me so late on the way, otherwise I would have been here an hour agone."
Then, when he had done speaking, Robin stretched out his hand and
grasped the Knight's palm. Quoth he in a trembling voice, "I owe thee a
debt I can never hope to repay, Sir Richard, for let me tell thee, I
would rather lose my right hand than have such ill befall young David of
Doncaster as seemed like to come upon him at Denby."
So they talked until after a while one came forward to say that the
feast was spread; whereupon all arose and went thereto. When at last it
was done, the Knight called upon his men to bring the pack horses
forward, which they did according to his bidding. Then one of the men
brought the Knight a strongbox, which he opened and took from it a bag
and counted out five hundred pounds, the sum he had gotten from Robin.
"Sir Richard," quoth Robin, "thou wilt pleasure us all if thou wilt keep
that money as a gift from us of Sherwood. Is it not so, my lads?"
Then all shouted "Ay" with a mighty voice.
"I thank you all deeply," said the Knight earnestly, "but think it not
ill of me if I cannot take it. Gladly have I borrowed it from you, but
it may not be that I can take it as a gift."
Then Robin Hood said no more but gave the money to Little John to put
away in the treasury, for he had shrewdness enough to know that nought
breeds ill will and heart bitterness like gifts forced upon one that
cannot choose but take them.
Then Sir Richard had the packs laid upon the ground and opened,
whereupon a great shout went up that made the forest ring again, for lo,
there were tenscore bows of finest Spanish yew, all burnished till they
shone again, and each bow inlaid with fanciful figures in silver, yet
not inlaid so as to mar their strength. Beside these were tenscore
quivers of leather embroidered with golden thread, and in each quiver
were a score of shafts with burnished heads that shone like silver; each
shaft was feathered with peacock's plumes, innocked with silver.
Sir Richard gave to each yeoman a bow and a quiver of arrows, but to
Robin he gave a stout bow inlaid with the cunningest workmanship in
gold, while each arrow in his quiver was innocked with gold.
Then all shouted again for joy of the fair gift, and all swore among
themselves that they would die if need be for Sir Richard and his lady.
At last the time came when Sir Richard must go, whereupon Robin Hood
called his band around him, and each man of the yeomen took a torch in
his hand to light the way through the woodlands. So they came to the
edge of Sherwood, and there the Knight kissed Robin upon the cheeks and
left him and was gone.
Thus Robin Hood helped a noble knight out of his dire misfortunes, that
else would have smothered the happiness from his life.
Little John Turns Barefoot Friar
COLD WINTER had passed and spring had come. No leafy thickness had yet
clad the woodlands, but the budding leaves hung like a tender mist about
the trees. In the open country the meadow lands lay a sheeny green, the
cornfields a dark velvety color, for they were thick and soft with the
growing blades. The plowboy shouted in the sun, and in the purple
new-turned furrows flocks of birds hunted for fat worms. All the broad
moist earth smiled in the warm light, and each little green hill clapped
its hand for joy.
On a deer's hide, stretched on the ground in the open in front of the
greenwood tree, sat Robin Hood basking in the sun like an old dog fox.
Leaning back with his hands clasped about his knees, he lazily watched
Little John rolling a stout bowstring from long strands of hempen
thread, wetting the palms of his hands ever and anon, and rolling the
cord upon his thigh. Near by sat Allan a Dale fitting a new string to
his harp.
Quoth Robin at last, "Methinks I would rather roam this forest in the
gentle springtime than be King of all merry England. What palace in the
broad world is as fair as this sweet woodland just now, and what king in
all the world hath such appetite for plover's eggs and lampreys as I for
juicy venison and sparkling ale? Gaffer Swanthold speaks truly when he
saith, 'Better a crust with content than honey with a sour heart.'"
"Yea," quoth Little John, as he rubbed his new-made bowstring with
yellow beeswax, "the life we lead is the life for me. Thou speakest of
the springtime, but methinks even the winter hath its own joys. Thou
and I, good master, have had more than one merry day, this winter past,
at the Blue Boar. Dost thou not remember that night thou and Will
Stutely and Friar Tuck and I passed at that same hostelry with the two
beggars and the strolling friar?"
"Yea," quoth merry Robin, laughing, "that was the night that Will
Stutely must needs snatch a kiss from the stout hostess, and got a
canakin of ale emptied over his head for his pains."
"Truly, it was the same," said Little John, laughing also. "Methinks
that was a goodly song that the strolling friar sang. Friar Tuck, thou
hast a quick ear for a tune, dost thou not remember it?"
"I did have the catch of it one time," said Tuck. "Let me see," and he
touched his forefinger to his forehead in thought, humming to himself,
and stopping ever and anon to fit what he had got to what he searched
for in his mind. At last he found it all and clearing his throat, sang
merrily:
"_In the blossoming hedge the robin cock sings,
For the sun it is merry and bright,
And he joyfully hops and he flutters his wings,
For his heart is all full of delight.
For the May bloometh fair,
And there's little of care,
And plenty to eat in the Maytime rare.
When the flowers all die,
Then off he will fly,
To keep himself warm
In some jolly old barn
Where the snow and the wind neither chill him nor harm.
"And such is the life of the strolling friar,
With aplenty to eat and to drink;
For the goodwife will keep him a seat by the fire,
And the pretty girls smile at his wink.
Then he lustily trolls
As he onward strolls,
A rollicking song for the saving of souls.
When the wind doth blow,
With the coming of snow,
There's a place by the fire
For the fatherly friar,
And a crab in the bowl for his heart's desire_."
Thus Friar Tuck sang in a rich and mellow voice, rolling his head from
side to side in time with the music, and when he had done, all clapped
their hands and shouted with laughter, for the song fitted him well.
"In very sooth," quoth Little John, "it is a goodly song, and, were I
not a yeoman of Sherwood Forest, I had rather be a strolling friar than
aught else in the world."
"Yea, it is a goodly song," said Robin Hood, "but methought those two
burly beggars told the merrier tales and led the merrier life. Dost thou
not remember what that great black-bearded fellow told of his begging at
the fair in York?"
"Yea," said Little John, "but what told the friar of the harvest home in
Kentshire? I hold that he led a merrier life than the other two."
"Truly, for the honor of the cloth," quoth Friar Tuck, "I hold with my
good gossip, Little John."
"Now," quoth Robin, "I hold to mine own mind. But what sayst thou,
Little John, to a merry adventure this fair day? Take thou a friar's
gown from our chest of strange garments, and don the same, and I will
stop the first beggar I meet and change clothes with him. Then let us
wander the country about, this sweet day, and see what befalls each of
us."
"That fitteth my mind," quoth Little John, "so let us forth, say I."
Thereupon Little John and Friar Tuck went to the storehouse of the band,
and there chose for the yeoman the robe of a Gray Friar. Then they came
forth again, and a mighty roar of laughter went up, for not only had the
band never seen Little John in such guise before, but the robe was too
short for him by a good palm's-breadth. But Little John's hands were
folded in his loose sleeves, and Little John's eyes were cast upon the
ground, and at his girdle hung a great, long string of beads.
And now Little John took up his stout staff, at the end of which hung a
chubby little leathern pottle, such as palmers carry at the tips of
their staves; but in it was something, I wot, more like good Malmsey
than cold spring water, such as godly pilgrims carry. Then up rose
Robin and took his stout staff in his hand, likewise, and slipped ten
golden angels into his pouch; for no beggar's garb was among the stores
of the band, so he was fain to run his chance of meeting a beggar and
buying his clothes of him.
So, all being made ready, the two yeomen set forth on their way,
striding lustily along all in the misty morning. Thus they walked down
the forest path until they came to the highway, and then along the
highway till it split in twain, leading on one hand to Blyth and on the
other to Gainsborough. Here the yeomen stopped.
Quoth jolly Robin, "Take thou the road to Gainsborough, and I will take
that to Blyth. So, fare thee well, holy father, and mayst thou not ha'
cause to count thy beads in earnest ere we meet again."
"Good den, good beggar that is to be," quoth Little John, "and mayst
thou have no cause to beg for mercy ere I see thee next."
So each stepped sturdily upon his way until a green hill rose between
them, and the one was hid from the sight of the other.
Little John walked along, whistling, for no one was nigh upon all the
road. In the budding hedges the little birds twittered merrily, and on
either hand the green hills swept up to the sky, the great white clouds
of springtime sailing slowly over their crowns in lazy flight. Up hill
and down dale walked Little John, the fresh wind blowing in his face and
his robes fluttering behind him, and so at last he came to a crossroad
that led to Tuxford. Here he met three pretty lasses, each bearing a
basket of eggs to market. Quoth he, "Whither away, fair maids?" And he
stood in their path, holding his staff in front of them, to stop them.
Then they huddled together and nudged one another, and one presently
spake up and said, "We are going to the Tuxford market, holy friar, to
sell our eggs."
"Now out upon it!" quoth Little John, looking upon them with his head on
one side. "Surely, it is a pity that such fair lasses should be forced
to carry eggs to market. Let me tell you, an I had the shaping of things
in this world, ye should all three have been clothed in the finest
silks, and ride upon milk-white horses, with pages at your side, and
feed upon nothing but whipped cream and strawberries; for such a life
would surely befit your looks."
At this speech all three of the pretty maids looked down, blushing and
simpering. One said, "La!" another, "Marry, a' maketh sport of us!" and
the third, "Listen, now, to the holy man!" But at the same time they
looked at Little John from out the corners of their eyes.
"Now, look you," said Little John, "I cannot see such dainty damsels as
ye are carrying baskets along a highroad. Let me take them mine own
self, and one of you, if ye will, may carry my staff for me."
"Nay," said one of the lasses, "but thou canst not carry three baskets
all at one time."
"Yea, but I can," said Little John, "and that I will show you presently.
I thank the good Saint Wilfred that he hath given me a pretty wit. Look
ye, now. Here I take this great basket, so; here I tie my rosary around
the handle, thus; and here I slip the rosary over my head and sling the
basket upon my back, in this wise." And Little John did according to his
words, the basket hanging down behind him like a peddler's pack; then,