OUR FIFTH MEETING.
This evening we resumed our old seats under the sycamore tree in the shrubbery, when I thus continued my tales:—
“After the departure of the knight of Wierysdale, Little John determined upon seeking an adventure, that he might have something to boast of among his companions, when he returned to Barnesdale woods. By chance he learned that there was to be a grand archery meeting near Nottingham, and that the high sheriff was to award a prize to the best marksman. Without delay, he rode across the country bypaths which no one but a daring forester would have chosen, and upon the next morning reached the appointed ground, just as the sports were about to commence.
“The best bowmen of the county had entered the lists, and as a silver bugle-horn was to be awarded to the victor, each man had resolved to do his best to gain it. Upon the appearance of the new competitor, they looked at each other, and after whispering together, laughed at the presumption of the stranger, who had dared to offer himself as their rival. One by one the well-known and oft victorious archers advanced, and shot their arrows so near the centre of the target that it was next to impossible to say whose aim had been the truest; Little John shot last, and with such success that his arrow knocked out one of the very nearest of his opponents’. The sheriff, surprised at his dexterity, rode up, examined the target and declared that he could not pronounce a decision. At the suggestion of the forester, to whom the others now paid greater respect, a thick white wand, which a ranger had been using to keep back the spectators, was placed upright in the ground at twenty paces farther distance. Again the sports began.—The Nottingham men supported their reputation, and no less than three arrows stuck in the mark; the outlaw fired last, andalso hit the wand. These four again shot, when two of the bowmen missed, and the contest remained to be decided between the first marksman of Nottingham, and the bold stranger.
“The populace had often given vent to their admiration of such gallant archery, by loud huzzas, but now a breathless silence prevailed. The sheriff, anxious for the honour of his county, rode up and down in a perfect fever of excitement, and spoke encouraging words to the Nottingham champion. The man coolly took up his position and drew his bow with the greatest care, but the shaft unfortunately flew half an inch above the mark. Little John smiled, advanced and shot his arrow a third time into the middle of the wand. A feeling of disappointment seemed to spread over the spectators, and the defeated archer could ill conceal his chagrin.
“‘Tell me, my good friend,’ said the sheriff as he rode up to the victor, and presented him with the prize, ‘what name bearest thou? and what country dost thou dwell in?’
“‘My name is Reynolde Grenelefe,’ replied theforester; ‘I was born and bred in merry Holdernesse, and am now roving from town to town to seek a better fortune.’
“‘By St. Hubert,’ rejoined the sheriff, ‘thou art the best archer that e’er drew bow in Nottingham. Wilt dwell with me, and protect the king’s deer from the cursed outlaws?’
“‘Willingly, an thou’lt pay me well,’ answered the forester boldly.
“‘Thou shalt have forty pounds a year, and three new suits of clothes, and shalt dine every day off the king’s venison,’ said the sheriff.
“The artful forester readily agreed, and on the same day took up his abode in his new master’s mansion, where he soon became on good terms with all the household, except the steward, who took a mortal aversion to him on account of his favour with their master. One day the sheriff went out hunting early in the morning, leaving Reynolde Grenelefe asleep in bed, where he lay until it was nearly noon; he then rose, and going to the kitchen, asked the steward for his dinner.
“‘Thou lazy villain,’ he replied, ‘dost think thou hast earned it. By my troth thou shalt have neither to eat nor drink till my lord hears of thine idleness.’
“The forester laughed, and gave a stride towards the pantry door, but the steward was too quick for him: he turned the key in the lock, pulled it out, and placed it in his pocket. Without a word the outlaw stepped up and struck him with his open palm upon the ear, and the poor steward, stunned with the shock, fell heavily down. Reynolde then spurned the door with his foot, bursting lock and bar asunder, and entering the pantry, he found a goodly venison pasty and a bottle of strong ale, upon which, without either grace or ceremony, he began a most furious attack. While he was thus busy the cook came in, and seeing the steward lying on the floor, and the new servant devouring the contents of the pantry, he soon guessed the true state of the matter. Arming himself with a huge rolling pin, he crept quietly towards the offender, and before he could protect himself, struck him upon the back of his head; the outlaw well nigh fell, but catching at a board, he sustained himself, and then drawing his sword, rushed at his cowardlyantagonist. For full an hour did they thump and belabour each other till they could scarcely stand. ‘Give me thy hand,’ cried Reynolde, dropping his sword. ‘Thou art a valiant fellow, and ’twere pity to break thy bones. Come with me to the woods; I am one of Robin Hood’s men, and if thou’lt join us we’ll give thee a suit of Lincoln green, and teach thee the merry life of a forester.’
“The cook consented; and after breaking open their master’s treasury and seizing upon all the silver plate and money that it contained, the treacherous servants left the house, and mounting two of the finest horses in the sheriff’s stable, galloped off with their booty to Barnesdale forest.
“Welcome, my brave yeoman. Where hast thou tarried?’ exclaimed Robin Hood, as Little John presented himself and his companion before the gallant captain. ‘And who bringest thou to the green-wood?’
“‘Thou shalt hear all, good master,’ replied the tall forester. ‘Thy worthy friend, the sheriff of Nottingham, hath sent thee his cook, his silver chalices, and three hundred golden pounds:’ and herelated the story of his adventures with the greatest glee, while Robin Hood, who owed the poor sheriff many a grudge, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and he was obliged to throw himself upon the grass from sheer exhaustion.
“Just as Little John was concluding his narration, a huntsman’s bugle sounded in the distance. He stopped and listened for a moment. ’Tis my dear master’s horn,’ he exclaimed; ‘I must away to him;’ and darting through the woods, he ran over hill and dale until he reached the spot where the sheriff of Nottingham and his attendants were beating among the thickets in search of game.
“‘Ha! Reynolde Grenelefe,’ he exclaimed, as his servant stood before him, ‘where hast thou been?’
“‘Roving through the forest, good master,’ replied Reynolde; ‘and by my troth I have beheld the strangest sight that mortal eyes e’er saw. In yon dense wood is a fine stag, whose hide is of a bright green colour, and a herd of seven-score more lie scattered around him. His horns are so large and sharp that I dare not shoot for fear that he might rush at me and tear me, and hearing thy bugle-horn,I have hastened to tell thee of so strange a creature.’ The sheriff, filled with wonder, desired to be immediately conducted to the animal, and the outlaw started off again at his full speed, followed by his master until they arrived at the spot where Robin Hood was still lying upon the turf. ‘This is the hart, good master,’ said Little John, pointing to his captain; ‘and there is the gallant herd;’ and he directed the sheriff’s attention to a band of yeomen who were reclining under the shade of some neighbouring trees.
“‘Thou hast betrayed me,’ he cried, drawing his sword, and biting his lips with rage. ‘Thus shalt thou suffer for thy treachery;’ and he struck a fierce blow at his conductor.
“‘Calm thee, good master,’ exclaimed Little John, nimbly avoiding the weapon. ‘Thou hast given me many a good dinner, and now thou shalt have a jovial supper in return.’ Two foresters advanced, and gently disarmed the still threatening prisoner, who very quietly suffered himself to be seated at a well spread cloth. At the entreaty of the outlaws he began to eat; but when Little John brought him wine in his own cup, his mortification was so great that he couldnot swallow another morsel. The foresters pressed him so much the more, and laughed loud and long at his rueful countenance, while two or three sang ballads celebrating their own victory over the sheriff of Nottingham.
“The poor man could endure the scene no longer. He started to his feet, and would gladly have made his escape, but his flight was arrested. ‘For one night, sir sheriff, thou shalt be an outlaw like us,’ said Robin Hood to him. ‘Thou shalt have thy couch under the green trees of Barnesdale, and if on the morrow thou likest thy fare, we will give thee a green mantle, and teach thee to shoot the grey goose-wing.’ Night drew on; the foresters, wrapping themselves in their cloaks, laid themselves down under the most shady trees, and binding their prisoner, that he might not escape during the darkness, compelled him to share their broad couch. All night long he tossed about and groaned, and when, oppressed with weariness, he at length fell asleep, dreams of the most hideous nature wakened him to fresh torment. The darkness seemed to him interminable; but at length the sun rose, and the foresters one and all roused themselves from theirslumbers. ‘Hast thou passed a good night, sir sheriff?’ asked Robin Hood. ‘How likest thou our downy beds?’
“‘The beasts of the field lie more softly,’ replied the sheriff. ‘Rather than make me pass another night like this, I pray thee send an arrow through my heart, and I’ll forgive thee. But wherefore dost thou detain me? I have no gold, and that traitor Reynolde Grenelefe has robbed me of what I possessed at home. Suffer me to go and I will be thy best friend to my dying day.’
“‘Swear that thou wilt never harm the foresters of Barnesdale,’ replied Robin Hood, ‘and thou shalt depart;’ and he presented the cross of his sword to the sheriff’s lips.
“He took the oath, and the outlaw immediately cut his bonds; then ordering his horse to be brought, he helped the anxious sheriff to his saddle, and bade him a merry ride. The goaded steed flew along the narrow pathway, and quickly emerging from the woods, bore his glad rider home to Nottingham.
“A twelvemonth was nearly elapsed since Robin Hood had lent the four hundred pounds to the knight of Wierysdale, and but two days yet remained to Lammas-tide, when the money would become due.
“By economy and service in arms the worthy knight had been enabled to save much more than the required sum. He purchased a hundred tough yew bows, with strings of twisted silk, a hundred beautiful quivers, well stored with arrows, each of which was notched with silver, feathered with the plume of a peacock, and tipped with a head of burnished gold; and mounted on the outlaw’s steed, he set out to Barnesdale wood, followed by a troop of his attendants, bearing the weapons of the chase before them.
“On his way the knight passed through a little town, where the inhabitants were celebrating a rural fair. The banks of a stream, over which he crossed by a rustic wooden bridge, were crowded with gaily dressed peasants, anxious to purchase the rare commodities which they were able only once a year to procure at this long-expected mart. There were tentsof blue, and white, and crimson cloths, and long streaming banners floated proudly above them. There were open stalls too, and rich displays of costly goods, and the busy throngs, as they incessantly poured on and on, seemed full of merriment and gladness. It was a joyous scene, and the knight gazed upon it with heart-felt pleasure. He wished to join in it, but he remembered that the day was close at hand when he had promised repayment to the generous outlaw, and he struck his spurs into his charger’s sides. He had proceeded but a short way, when a loud noise broke upon the distant murmur that had hitherto reached him from the meadows, and caused him again to draw his rein. It seemed like the quarrelling of men in angry strife, and every moment it grew louder and louder. ‘There may be need of our assistance,’ said the knight to his followers; and he instantly galloped to the spot whence the confusion arose. At the sight of a band of armed horsemen the crowd became calm, and opened a passage-way.
“‘What means this uproar?’ asked the leader. ‘Are ye not celebrating games of joy and peace?’ A dead silence prevailed. ‘Tell me, my friend,’ hecontinued, addressing one who stood nearest him, ‘why are ye thus at variance?’
“‘Yon stranger,’ replied the man, pointing to a gallant looking yeoman who rested upon his bow, apart from the rest;—‘Yon stranger has borne off every prize this day. We know him not; and think ’tis unfair that the best men in our county should get no victory.’
“‘Come hither, sirrah,’ cried the knight to the offender. ‘Who art thou that darest to shoot and wrestle better than any man in Nottinghamshire?’
“The yeoman stepped forward boldly:—‘What can it matter, sir knight, who I am?’ he replied. ‘I’ve won the prizes, and have a right to them, but these poor clowns cannot stomach a heavy fall, or my arrow in the centre of their bull’s eye.’
“‘Shame on ye, my friends; would ye wrong a victor of his lawful reward?’ exclaimed the knight, turning to the multitude. ‘Where are the prizes?’ An old man advanced, and taking the horseman’s bridle, led him to a tent, where were spread upon the grass a handsome saddle and bridle, ornamented with gold, the prize of the swiftest runner; afinely carved bow, and an arrow, three feet long, of the purest white silver, to be given to the truest marksman; and a pipe of the best Rhenish wine to be awarded to him who should gain the day at wrestling. All these had the stranger indubitably won; but when he demanded them, the disappointment of the native peasants broke out into loud murmurings, and as few espoused the cause of the victor, it had well nigh gone hard with him. Staves had been brought into play, and more than one sword had been drawn, when the arrival of the knight and his attendants quieted the tumult.
“‘Hast thou a steed to bear this goodly saddle?’ said the knight to the stranger; ‘and how wilt thou carry off this pipe of wine?’
“‘I came a-foot,’ replied the man; ‘but rather than leave so brave a prize, I will bear the saddle on my own back; as for the cask, these good peasants are welcome to it.’
“‘Thou’rt a noble fellow,’ returned the knight of Wierysdale, throwing him a purse of gold. ‘There’s for thy wine, and if thou wilt follow me, thou shalt have a charger for thy saddle.’ The yeoman readilycomplied. One of the knight’s men dismounted, and gave up his horse to him; he quickly clapped on his elegant furniture, and with the how at his back, and quiver by his side, he sprung into the seat, and ranged himself with the rest of the attendants. The noble intercessor next ordered that the wine should be broached, and distributed to all who would partake of it. The command was quickly obeyed, amidst the cheers of the peasants, who soon forgot their previous quarrels and disappointments in the pleasures of the jovial cup. The knight waved his hand to them and rode on, but he had lost so much time at the fair, that the sun sank down long before he reached the woods of Barnesdale, and he was obliged to halt at a little cottage by the way-side.
“The morrow was Lammas-day; Robin Hood ordered a fat buck to be dressed, and preparations made for his expected guest; but noon passed without any appearance of him.
“‘Go thou,’ said the outlaw to his favourite attendant, ‘and see if thou canst espy this slothful knight. Take Will Scarlet and the Miller’s Son with thee, and if his faithful surety send any over-burdenedtravellers to pay my debt, bring them hither. But, I charge ye, if a poor man, or a merry jester, or a damsel in distress pass by, help them to your utmost, give them gold and assist them on their way.’
“The three foresters gladly obeyed, and soon reached the high road that ran through the wood. Many a stout yeoman and honest peasant did they encounter, and pass with a fair salutation, and one poor beggar, half clothed in rags, they sent on his path rejoicing. As they reached the summit of a hill, two monks riding upon palfreys, attended by about a score armed men on foot, and six sumpter mules heavily laden, appeared just ascending upon the opposite side.
“‘I’ll wager my best bow-string,’ exclaimed Little John, ‘that these holy fathers have brought our captain’s money. Bend your bows, my lads, and scatter the herd that follows them.’ The foresters let fly arrow after arrow in such quick succession that the frightened travellers turned and fled precipitately; the archers pursued, and soon gained upon the fugitives, who one and all rushed into the woods,and endeavoured to escape amid the concealment of the foliage. Those on foot soon disappeared, but the two monks on their palfreys and the sumpter mules were easily captured by the outlaws. They immediately tied the hands of their prisoners behind them, and fastening the reins of their steeds together, they drove them to the presence of the chief, who doffed his cap, and advanced with great courtesy to meet his guests.
“‘I pray ye, holy fathers,’ he said to them, ‘take not offence at the rough usage of my followers. I care not to dine unless in goodly company, and therefore did they bring ye from your straight journeying.’ The monks preserved a sullen silence, and suffered their bonds to be cut, and themselves dismounted without speaking a word.
“‘Gramercy, good sirs,’ cried Robin Hood, ‘methinks ye have but a small share of courtesy. What holy house do ye inhabit?’
“‘We are but poor brethren of St. Mary’s Abbey,’ replied one of the monks, who was the high cellarer, ‘and were on our way to London to do reverence to the pope’s legate, who has required our presence.’
“‘May his blessing attend ye,’ said the outlaw, in a mock solemn tone. ‘Come now, my good friends, the feast is spread, sit ye and make merry.’ It is probable that in their present condition the monks would have declined this request, had not the savoury odour that arose from a smoking haunch of venison and a roasted wild swan smoothed down their angry feelings. They were soon seated by the side of the gallant forester; sparkling wine was brought, and the health of the pope’s legate was drunk with great glee. The monks ate heartily, and quaffed many a cup to their host and his merry men; forgetting, in their enjoyment, that they would pay dearly for the treat. Robin Hood laughed and sang, and his men trolled out their legendary ballads, till the sun had nearly reached the horizon.
“‘I fear me,’ said the outlaw to Little John, ‘that our dear Lady is wroth with us. The day is well nigh spent, and our four hundred pounds are yet to come.’
“‘Ne’er fear,’ replied the tall forester. ‘These kind monks have brought it, I dare swear—for they come from her holy abbey. Tell us, goodfathers, have ye not repayment for us from your sainted patroness?’
“‘We have heard naught of this before,’ replied the high cellarer. ‘We possess but twenty marks wherewith to defray the expenses of our travelling. Let us away, kind sirs, or we shall ne’er reach Nottingham this night.’
“‘If ye have but twenty marks,’ returned Robin Hood, ‘ye will have to beg for charity ere ye reach your journey’s end. See, my bold Little John, how much thou canst find in yonder heavy looking trunks. If ’tis as ye say I will charge ye nothing for your feast; but if ye have a prize, ye must e’en be content to part company with it.’
“Little John soon returned with the trunk upon his shoulders, and spreading his mantle upon the grass, he poured out a heap of gold upon it.
“‘Good master, here are eight hundred pounds or more,’ he said, when he had counted out some few pieces and divided the rest into similar quantities. ‘By my troth thou could’st not have wished for better payment.’
“The monks’ vexation was now at its height;they bit their lips and cast anxious glances towards their palfreys.
“‘Ye will need some few of these,’ said Robin Hood, as he gave a handful of golden pieces to each of them; ‘the patron saint of St. Mary’s has sent us the rest as repayment for the money we lent to the knight of Wierysdale.’ They eagerly clutched the offered gold, and without opposition from the outlaws mounted their steeds with most surprising celerity, and, leaving the sumpter mules behind them, rode off amid loud shouts of laughter.
“The topmost branches of the trees alone were gilded with the rays of the setting sun, and the foliage had begun to cast a deeper shade, when a party of horsemen emerged from the woods upon the lawn where the bold foresters were merrily regaling themselves at the expense of the poor monks whom they had plundered.
“In an instant they started to their feet, and fifty shafts were levelled at the intruders, but when the foremost rider leaped from his horse and threw himself into the arms of Robin Hood, they easily recognised him as Sir Rychard o’ the Lee.
“‘Welcome, sir knight, thrice welcome,’ exclaimed the outlaw. ‘Truly thou look’st more merry than when last I saw thee in these woods? Hast thou recovered thy fair domains?’
“‘Ten thousand thanks to thee, my noble, my generous friend,’ cried the knight. ‘I still hold my fathers’ lands, and with the blessing of our Lady, I am come to return the sum I borrowed of thee.’
“‘’Tis already paid, my gallant sir,’ returned Robin Hood. ‘Two monks from the Abbey of the Holy Virgin have this day brought me back my gold with interest; so keep thy money, and when thou seest a man in need, remember Robin Hood.’
“‘Nay, thou wilt overwhelm me with thy kindness,’ replied the knight. ‘I would have been with thee ere the noon-tide, but yonder knave had the audacity to win every prize at a village festival, and, had I not interceded, he would have received but a sorry recompense for his achievements.’
“‘Ha! hast thou one of my truest men among thy followers?’ exclaimed the outlaw, as he recognised the victor. ‘George o’ the Green would havestood toughly against a score of lazy peasants, methinks.’
“‘Yes, good master,’ joined in the forester; ‘but what can one arm do against three-score? Of a truth I should have had a morning bath, an it had not been for this gallant knight.’
“Robin Hood whispered a few words to Little John, who left them and almost instantly returned with a bag of gold.
“‘Take this, good sir,’ said the chief outlaw, as he handed it to the knight. ‘The monks of St. Mary’s paid me too much by four hundred pounds. Thou canst not yet be rich; take it as a reward for thy generous intercession.’
“The knight would have refused, but he knew that by so doing he should displease his generous friend. ‘I accept thy gift,’ he replied. ‘One day I may be able to repay thy goodness; till then I shall remain a heavy debtor. But I entreat thee, receive this poor present as a humble tribute of my gratitude;’ and at his command, his followers alighted from their steeds, and laid the bows and quivers at the outlaw’s feet.
“The foresters all shouted for joy, as their chief distributed the handsome gifts among them. Many started off at once to try their new weapons; while the others resuming their seats upon the grass, helped the knight and his followers with unbounded liberality, and passed the rest of the evening in drinking and singing, till darkness closed upon their gaiety. Couches of fern and dried rushes were prepared for the guests, who slept soundly in the foresters’ rude bowers, until the bugle-horn wakened them from their dreams, at the dawn of morning. The knight, anxious to return to his lady, stayed not to break his fast: bidding farewell to the kind outlaws, he sprung into his horse’s saddle, and with his attendants rode off to his beloved home in Wierysdale.”