IN MERRY ENGLAND in the time of old, when good King Henry the
Second ruled the land, there lived within the green glades of
Sherwood Forest, near Nottingham Town, a famous outlaw whose name
was Robin Hood. No archer ever lived that could speed a gray goose
shaft with such skill and cunning as his, nor were there ever such
yeomen as the sevenscore merry men that roamed with him through the
greenwood shades. Right merrily they dwelled within the depths of
Sherwood Forest, suffering neither care nor want, but passing the
time in merry games of archery or bouts of cudgel play, living upon
the King's venison, washed down with draughts of ale of October
brewing.
Not only Robin himself but all the band were outlaws and
dwelled apart from other men, yet they were beloved by the country
people round about, for no one ever came to jolly Robin for help in
time of need and went away again with an empty fist.
And now I will tell how it came about that Robin Hood fell
afoul of the law.
When Robin was a youth of eighteen, stout of sinew and bold
of heart, the Sheriff of Nottingham proclaimed a shooting match and
offered a prize of a butt of ale to whosoever should shoot the best
shaft in Nottinghamshire. "Now," quoth Robin, "will I go too, for
fain would I draw a string for the bright eyes of my lass and a
butt of good October brewing." So up he got and took his good stout
yew bow and a score or more of broad clothyard arrows, and started
off from Locksley Town through Sherwood Forest to
Nottingham.
It was at the dawn of day in the merry Maytime, when
hedgerows are green and flowers bedeck the meadows; daisies pied
and yellow cuckoo buds and fair primroses all along the briery
hedges; when apple buds blossom and sweet birds sing, the lark at
dawn of day, the throstle cock and cuckoo; when lads and lasses
look upon each other with sweet thoughts; when busy housewives
spread their linen to bleach upon the bright green grass. Sweet was
the greenwood as he walked along its paths, and bright the green
and rustling leaves, amid which the little birds sang with might
and main: and blithely Robin whistled as he trudged along, thinking
of Maid Marian and her bright eyes, for at such times a youth's
thoughts are wont to turn pleasantly upon the lass that he loves
the best.
As thus he walked along with a brisk step and a merry
whistle, he came suddenly upon some foresters seated beneath a
great oak tree. Fifteen there were in all, making themselves merry
with feasting and drinking as they sat around a huge pasty, to
which each man helped himself, thrusting his hands into the pie,
and washing down that which they ate with great horns of ale which
they drew all foaming from a barrel that stood nigh. Each man was
clad in Lincoln green, and a fine show they made, seated upon the
sward beneath that fair, spreading tree. Then one of them, with his
mouth full, called out to Robin, "Hulloa, where goest thou, little
lad, with thy one-penny bow and thy farthing shafts?"
Then Robin grew angry, for no stripling likes to be taunted
with his green years.
"Now," quoth he, "my bow and eke mine arrows are as good as
shine; and moreover, I go to the shooting match at Nottingham Town,
which same has been proclaimed by our good Sheriff of
Nottinghamshire; there I will shoot with other stout yeomen, for a
prize has been offered of a fine butt of ale."
Then one who held a horn of ale in his hand said, "Ho! listen
to the lad! Why, boy, thy mother's milk is yet scarce dry upon thy
lips, and yet thou pratest of standing up with good stout men at
Nottingham butts, thou who art scarce able to draw one string of a
two-stone bow."
"I'll hold the best of you twenty marks," quoth bold Robin,
"that I hit the clout at threescore rods, by the good help of Our
Lady fair."
At this all laughed aloud, and one said, "Well boasted, thou
fair infant, well boasted! And well thou knowest that no target is
nigh to make good thy wager."
And another cried, "He will be taking ale with his milk
next."
At this Robin grew right mad. "Hark ye," said he, "yonder, at
the glade's end, I see a herd of deer, even more than threescore
rods distant. I'll hold you twenty marks that, by leave of Our
Lady, I cause the best hart among them to die."
"Now done!" cried he who had spoken first. "And here are
twenty marks. I wager that thou causest no beast to die, with or
without the aid of Our Lady."
Then Robin took his good yew bow in his hand, and placing the
tip at his instep, he strung it right deftly; then he nocked a
broad clothyard arrow and, raising the bow, drew the gray goose
feather to his ear; the next moment the bowstring rang and the
arrow sped down the glade as a sparrowhawk skims in a northern
wind. High leaped the noblest hart of all the herd, only to fall
dead, reddening the green path with his heart's blood.
"Ha!" cried Robin, "how likest thou that shot, good fellow? I
wot the wager were mine, an it were three hundred
pounds."
Then all the foresters were filled with rage, and he who had
spoken the first and had lost the wager was more angry than
all.
"Nay," cried he, "the wager is none of thine, and get thee
gone, straightway, or, by all the saints of heaven, I'll baste thy
sides until thou wilt ne'er be able to walk again." "Knowest thou
not," said another, "that thou hast killed the King's deer, and, by
the laws of our gracious lord and sovereign King Harry, thine ears
should be shaven close to thy head?"
"Catch him!" cried a third.
"Nay," said a fourth, "let him e'en go because of his tender
years."
Never a word said Robin Hood, but he looked at the foresters
with a grim face; then, turning on his heel, strode away from them
down the forest glade. But his heart was bitterly angry, for his
blood was hot and youthful and prone to boil.
Now, well would it have been for him who had first spoken had
he left Robin Hood alone; but his anger was hot, both because the
youth had gotten the better of him and because of the deep draughts
of ale that he had been quaffing. So, of a sudden, without any
warning, he sprang to his feet, and seized upon his bow and fitted
it to a shaft. "Ay," cried he, "and I'll hurry thee anon." And he
sent the arrow whistling after Robin.
It was well for Robin Hood that that same forester's head was
spinning with ale, or else he would never have taken another step.
As it was, the arrow whistled within three inches of his head. Then
he turned around and quickly drew his own bow, and sent an arrow
back in return.
"Ye said I was no archer," cried he aloud, "but say so now
again!"
The shaft flew straight; the archer fell forward with a cry,
and lay on his face upon the ground, his arrows rattling about him
from out of his quiver, the gray goose shaft wet with his; heart's
blood. Then, before the others could gather their wits about them,
Robin Hood was gone into the depths of the greenwood. Some started
after him, but not with much heart, for each feared to suffer the
death of his fellow; so presently they all came and lifted the dead
man up and bore him away to Nottingham Town.
Meanwhile Robin Hood ran through the greenwood. Gone was all
the joy and brightness from everything, for his heart was sick
within him, and it was borne in upon his soul that he had slain a
man.
"Alas!" cried he, "thou hast found me an archer that will
make thy wife to wring! I would that thou hadst ne'er said one word
to me, or that I had never passed thy way, or e'en that my right
forefinger had been stricken off ere that this had happened! In
haste I smote, but grieve I sore at leisure!" And then, even in his
trouble, he remembered the old saw that "What is done is done; and
the egg cracked cannot be cured."
And so he came to dwell in the greenwood that was to be his
home for many a year to come, never again to see the happy days
with the lads and lasses of sweet Locksley Town; for he was
outlawed, not only because he had killed a man, but also because he
had poached upon the King's deer, and two hundred pounds were set
upon his head, as a reward for whoever would bring him to the court
of the King.
Now the Sheriff of Nottingham swore that he himself would
bring this knave Robin Hood to justice, and for two reasons: first,
because he wanted the two hundred pounds, and next, because the
forester that Robin Hood had killed was of kin to him.
But Robin Hood lay hidden in Sherwood Forest for one year,
and in that time there gathered around him many others like
himself, cast out from other folk for this cause and for that. Some
had shot deer in hungry wintertime, when they could get no other
food, and had been seen in the act by the foresters, but had
escaped, thus saving their ears; some had been turned out of their
inheritance, that their farms might be added to the King's lands in
Sherwood Forest; some had been despoiled by a great baron or a rich
abbot or a powerful esquire—all, for one cause or another, had come
to Sherwood to escape wrong and oppression.
So, in all that year, fivescore or more good stout yeomen
gathered about Robin Hood, and chose him to be their leader and
chief. Then they vowed that even as they themselves had been
despoiled they would despoil their oppressors, whether baron,
abbot, knight, or squire, and that from each they would take that
which had been wrung from the poor by unjust taxes, or land rents,
or in wrongful fines. But to the poor folk they would give a
helping hand in need and trouble, and would return to them that
which had been unjustly taken from them. Besides this, they swore
never to harm a child nor to wrong a woman, be she maid, wife, or
widow; so that, after a while, when the people began to find that
no harm was meant to them, but that money or food came in time of
want to many a poor family, they came to praise Robin and his merry
men, and to tell many tales of him and of his doings in Sherwood
Forest, for they felt him to be one of themselves.
Up rose Robin Hood one merry morn when all the birds were
singing blithely among the leaves, and up rose all his merry men,
each fellow washing his head and hands in the cold brown brook that
leaped laughing from stone to stone. Then said Robin, "For fourteen
days have we seen no sport, so now I will go abroad to seek
adventures forthwith. But tarry ye, my merry men all, here in the
greenwood; only see that ye mind well my call. Three blasts upon
the bugle horn I will blow in my hour of need; then come quickly,
for I shall want your aid."
So saying, he strode away through the leafy forest glades
until he had come to the verge of Sherwood. There he wandered for a
long time, through highway and byway, through dingly dell and
forest skirts. Now he met a fair buxom lass in a shady lane, and
each gave the other a merry word and passed their way; now he saw a
fair lady upon an ambling pad, to whom he doffed his cap, and who
bowed sedately in return to the fair youth; now he saw a fat monk
on a pannier-laden ass; now a gallant knight, with spear and shield
and armor that flashed brightly in the sunlight; now a page clad in
crimson; and now a stout burgher from good Nottingham Town, pacing
along with serious footsteps; all these sights he saw, but
adventure found he none. At last he took a road by the forest
skirts, a bypath that dipped toward a broad, pebbly stream spanned
by a narrow bridge made of a log of wood. As he drew nigh this
bridge he saw a tall stranger coming from the other side. Thereupon
Robin quickened his pace, as did the stranger likewise, each
thinking to cross first.
"Now stand thou back," quoth Robin, "and let the better man
cross first."
"Nay," answered the stranger, "then stand back shine own
self, for the better man, I wet, am I."
"That will we presently see," quoth Robin, "and meanwhile
stand thou where thou art, or else, by the bright brow of Saint
AElfrida, I will show thee right good Nottingham play with a
clothyard shaft betwixt thy ribs."
"Now," quoth the stranger, "I will tan thy hide till it be as
many colors as a beggar's cloak, if thou darest so much as touch a
string of that same bow that thou holdest in thy
hands."
"Thou pratest like an ass," said Robin, "for I could send
this shaft clean through thy proud heart before a curtal friar
could say grace over a roast goose at Michaelmastide."
"And thou pratest like a coward," answered the stranger, "for
thou standest there with a good yew bow to shoot at my heart, while
I have nought in my hand but a plain blackthorn staff wherewith to
meet thee."
"Now," quoth Robin, "by the faith of my heart, never have I
had a coward's name in all my life before. I will lay by my trusty
bow and eke my arrows, and if thou darest abide my coming, I will
go and cut a cudgel to test thy manhood withal."
"Ay, marry, that will I abide thy coming, and joyously, too,"
quoth the stranger; whereupon he leaned sturdily upon his staff to
await Robin.
Then Robin Hood stepped quickly to the coverside and cut a
good staff of ground oak, straight, without new, and six feet in
length, and came back trimming away the tender stems from it, while
the stranger waited for him, leaning upon his staff, and whistling
as he gazed round about. Robin observed him furtively as he trimmed
his staff, measuring him from top to toe from out the corner of his
eye, and thought that he had never seen a lustier or a stouter man.
Tall was Robin, but taller was the stranger by a head and a neck,
for he was seven feet in height. Broad was Robin across the
shoulders, but broader was the stranger by twice the breadth of a
palm, while he measured at least an ell around the
waist.
"Nevertheless," said Robin to himself, "I will baste thy hide
right merrily, my good fellow;" then, aloud, "Lo, here is my good
staff, lusty and tough. Now wait my coming, an thou darest, and
meet me an thou fearest not. Then we will fight until one or the
other of us tumble into the stream by dint of blows."
"Marry, that meeteth my whole heart!" cried the stranger,
twirling his staff above his head, betwixt his fingers and thumb,
until it whistled again.
Never did the Knights of Arthur's Round Table meet in a
stouter fight than did these two. In a moment Robin stepped quickly
upon the bridge where the stranger stood; first he made a feint,
and then delivered a blow at the stranger's head that, had it met
its mark, would have tumbled him speedily into the water. But the
stranger turned the blow right deftly and in return gave one as
stout, which Robin also turned as the stranger had done. So they
stood, each in his place, neither moving a finger's-breadth back,
for one good hour, and many blows were given and received by each
in that time, till here and there were sore bones and bumps, yet
neither thought of crying "Enough," nor seemed likely to fall from
off the bridge. Now and then they stopped to rest, and each thought
that he never had seen in all his life before such a hand at
quarterstaff. At last Robin gave the stranger a blow upon the ribs
that made his jacket smoke like a damp straw thatch in the sun. So
shrewd was the stroke that the stranger came within a
hair's-breadth of falling off the bridge, but he regained himself
right quickly and, by a dexterous blow, gave Robin a crack on the
crown that caused the blood to flow. Then Robin grew mad with anger
and smote with all his might at the other. But the stranger warded
the blow and once again thwacked Robin, and this time so fairly
that he fell heels over head into the water, as the queen pin falls
in a game of bowls.
"And where art thou now, my good lad?" shouted the stranger,
roaring with laughter.
"Oh, in the flood and floating adown with the tide," cried
Robin, nor could he forbear laughing himself at his sorry plight.
Then, gaining his feet, he waded to the bank, the little fish
speeding hither and thither, all frightened at his
splashing.
"Give me thy hand," cried he, when he had reached the bank.
"I must needs own thou art a brave and a sturdy soul and, withal, a
good stout stroke with the cudgels. By this and by that, my head
hummeth like to a hive of bees on a hot June day."
Then he clapped his horn to his lips and winded a blast that
went echoing sweetly down the forest paths. "Ay, marry," quoth he
again, "thou art a tall lad, and eke a brave one, for ne'er, I bow,
is there a man betwixt here and Canterbury Town could do the like
to me that thou hast done."
"And thou," quoth the stranger, laughing, "takest thy
cudgeling like a brave heart and a stout yeoman."
But now the distant twigs and branches rustled with the
coming of men, and suddenly a score or two of good stout yeomen,
all clad in Lincoln green, burst from out the covert, with merry
Will Stutely at their head.
"Good master," cried Will, "how is this? Truly thou art all
wet from head to foot, and that to the very skin."
"Why, marry," answered jolly Robin, "yon stout fellow hath
tumbled me neck and crop into the water and hath given me a
drubbing beside."
"Then shall he not go without a ducking and eke a drubbing
himself!" cried Will Stutely. "Have at him, lads!"
Then Will and a score of yeomen leaped upon the stranger, but
though they sprang quickly they found him ready and felt him strike
right and left with his stout staff, so that, though he went down
with press of numbers, some of them rubbed cracked crowns before he
was overcome.
"Nay, forbear!" cried Robin, laughing until his sore sides
ached again. "He is a right good man and true, and no harm shall
befall him. Now hark ye, good youth, wilt thou stay with me and be
one of my band? Three suits of Lincoln green shalt thou have each
year, beside forty marks in fee, and share with us whatsoever good
shall befall us. Thou shalt eat sweet venison and quaff the
stoutest ale, and mine own good right-hand man shalt thou be, for
never did I see such a cudgel player in all my life before. Speak!
Wilt thou be one of my good merry men?"
"That know I not," quoth the stranger surlily, for he was
angry at being so tumbled about. "If ye handle yew bow and apple
shaft no better than ye do oaken cudgel, I wot ye are not fit to be
called yeomen in my country; but if there be any man here that can
shoot a better shaft than I, then will I bethink me of joining with
you."
"Now by my faith," said Robin, "thou art a right saucy
varlet, sirrah; yet I will stoop to thee as I never stooped to man
before. Good Stutely, cut thou a fair white piece of bark four
fingers in breadth, and set it fourscore yards distant on yonder
oak. Now, stranger, hit that fairly with a gray goose shaft and
call thyself an archer."
"Ay, marry, that will I," answered he. "Give me a good stout
bow and a fair broad arrow, and if I hit it not, strip me and beat
me blue with bowstrings."
Then he chose the stoutest bow among them all, next to
Robin's own, and a straight gray goose shaft, well-feathered and
smooth, and stepping to the mark—while all the band, sitting or
lying upon the greensward, watched to see him shoot—he drew the
arrow to his cheek and loosed the shaft right deftly, sending it so
straight down the path that it clove the mark in the very center.
"Aha!" cried he, "mend thou that if thou canst;" while even the
yeomen clapped their hands at so fair a shot.
"That is a keen shot indeed," quoth Robin. "Mend it I cannot,
but mar it I may, perhaps."
Then taking up his own good stout bow and nocking an arrow
with care, he shot with his very greatest skill. Straight flew the
arrow, and so true that it lit fairly upon the stranger's shaft and
split it into splinters. Then all the yeomen leaped to their feet
and shouted for joy that their master had shot so
well.
"Now by the lusty yew bow of good Saint Withold," cried the
stranger, "that is a shot indeed, and never saw I the like in all
my life before! Now truly will I be thy man henceforth and for aye.
Good Adam Bell(1) was a fair shot, but never shot he
so!"
(1) Adam Bell, Clym o' the Clough,
and William of Cloudesly
were three noted north-country
bowmen whose names have been
celebrated in many ballads of the
olden time.
"Then have I gained a right good man this day," quoth jolly
Robin. "What name goest thou by, good fellow?"
"Men call me John Little whence I came," answered the
stranger.
Then Will Stutely, who loved a good jest, spoke up. "Nay,
fair little stranger," said he, "I like not thy name and fain would
I have it otherwise. Little art thou indeed, and small of bone and
sinew, therefore shalt thou be christened Little John, and I will
be thy godfather."
Then Robin Hood and all his band laughed aloud until the
stranger began to grow angry.
"An thou make a jest of me," quoth he to Will Stutely, "thou
wilt have sore bones and little pay, and that in short
season."
"Nay, good friend," said Robin Hood, "bottle thine anger, for
the name fitteth thee well. Little John shall thou be called
henceforth, and Little John shall it be. So come, my merry men, we
will prepare a christening feast for this fair
infant."
So turning their backs upon the stream, they plunged into the
forest once more, through which they traced their steps till they
reached the spot where they dwelled in the depths of the woodland.
There had they built huts of bark and branches of trees, and made
couches of sweet rushes spread over with skins of fallow deer. Here
stood a great oak tree with branches spreading broadly around,
beneath which was a seat of green moss where Robin Hood was wont to
sit at feast and at merrymaking with his stout men about him. Here
they found the rest of the band, some of whom had come in with a
brace of fat does. Then they all built great fires and after a time
roasted the does and broached a barrel of humming ale. Then when
the feast was ready they all sat down, but Robin placed Little John
at his right hand, for he was henceforth to be the second in the
band.
Then when the feast was done Will Stutely spoke up. "It is
now time, I ween, to christen our bonny babe, is it not so, merry
boys?" And "Aye! Aye!" cried all, laughing till the woods echoed
with their mirth.
"Then seven sponsors shall we have," quoth Will Stutely, and
hunting among all the band, he chose the seven stoutest men of them
all.
"Now by Saint Dunstan," cried Little John, springing to his
feet, "more than one of you shall rue it an you lay finger upon
me."
But without a word they all ran upon him at once, seizing him
by his legs and arms and holding him tightly in spite of his
struggles, and they bore him forth while all stood around to see
the sport. Then one came forward who had been chosen to play the
priest because he had a bald crown, and in his hand he carried a
brimming pot of ale. "Now, who bringeth this babe?" asked he right
soberly.
"That do I," answered Will Stutely.
"And what name callest thou him?"
"Little John call I him."
"Now Little John," quoth the mock priest, "thou hast not
lived heretofore, but only got thee along through the world, but
henceforth thou wilt live indeed. When thou livedst not thou wast
called John Little, but now that thou dost live indeed, Little John
shalt thou be called, so christen I thee." And at these last words
he emptied the pot of ale upon Little John's head.
Then all shouted with laughter as they saw the good brown ale
stream over Little John's beard and trickle from his nose and chin,
while his eyes blinked with the smart of it. At first he was of a
mind to be angry but found he could not, because the others were so
merry; so he, too, laughed with the rest. Then Robin took this
sweet, pretty babe, clothed him all anew from top to toe in Lincoln
green, and gave him a good stout bow, and so made him a member of
the merry band.
And thus it was that Robin Hood became outlawed; thus a band
of merry companions gathered about him, and thus he gained his
right-hand man, Little John; and so the prologue ends. And now I
will tell how the Sheriff of Nottingham three times sought to take
Robin Hood, and how he failed each time.
