OUR HALF-HOLIDAY.
It was, I remember, upon a Saturday afternoon that I was again asked to tell a tale of Robin Hood. On this, the last day of our week of seclusion, how great were the pleasures of our half-holiday! Frequently we had permission granted us to stroll among the fields in the neighbourhood; in the spring time, to gather the bright yellow primrose, or search for the nests of the poor innocent birds; and, in the autumn season, to pluck the delicious blackberries that, in some places,—and we knew them well,—abounded among the thorny hedges.
At about the distance of a quarter of a mile from our old school-house there was an extensive park. Many hundred acres of land were covered with fine trees—oaks, elms, and firs, variously intermixed—while here and there were open lawns, clothed onlywith grass and the beautiful wild flowers, that spring up, unnurtured, in their native soil. An ancient mansion stood in the midst, upon the summit of a hill, whence, looking over the woods, the face of the country for miles around could be traced as upon a map. The house was deserted—the owner resided in a foreign land, and his noble English park was neglected: it had once been paled round, but in many places the wooden staves were broken, and a gap made, through which every passenger might enter. We often did, and chased each other among the crowded thickets; and now, glad of the opportunity of escaping from our confined play-ground, we repaired to this delightful park, where, seated upon the grass, with my companions lying around me, I told them the tale of
“In the time of Henry the Second, and for many years afterwards, until the use of gunpowder was known, the science of archery was greatly encouraged in England among all ranks and classes; and even the good citizens of London constantly exercised their bows in ‘Finsburie fielde.’
“The feast of St. Bartholomew was particularly celebrated by games of this kind: a finely wrought bow or a golden arrow was given as a prize to the best marksman, and the presence of the king and his court contributed not a little to add interest to the long looked-for contests.
“One year, towards the close of King Henry’s reign, proclamation was as usual made, that the ‘royal games of archery’ would be held in Finsbury field, upon St. Bartholomew’s day. Queen Eleanor was passionately fond of the sport, and rarely missed an opportunity of witnessing the superior skill displayed by the royal archers. She had heard much of Robin Hood, but had never seen that gallant outlaw; and as the fame of his rencontre with the bishop of Hereford had spread far and wide, she felt a secret desire to behold so daring and so celebrated a man. Summoning a young page who waited her commands, she gave him a beautiful golden ring, and bade him hasten with all speed to Sherwood forest, and deliver it to the forester, with her request that he would come to London and take a part in the approaching games. The youth lost no time in executing his mistress’command, and in two days arrived at Nottingham, where, from a good yeoman, he learned the dwelling-place of Robin Hood, and on the next morning he appeared before the bold outlaw. Falling gracefully upon one knee, he doffed his cap, and presented the ring to him, saying,—‘My royal and most gracious mistress, Eleanor, queen of England, greets thee well. She bids thee haste with all speed to fair London court, that thou may’st be her champion in the sports upon the feast of St. Bartholomew, in token whereof accept this ring.’
“The outlaw took the royal present, and placed it upon his finger. ‘Rise, my pretty page,’ he said; ‘wend thou back upon the fleetest steed that thou canst find. Deliver this arrow to Queen Eleanor, and say that Robin Hood will claim it ere three suns have set.’ The young page rose, placed the arrow in his belt, and with much courtesy bade the outlaw adieu; then hastening to his inn at Nottingham, he chose the swiftest horse in the stables, and flew back again to his royal mistress.
“Early in the morning of St. Bartholomew’s day, Finsbury field presented a gay and most enliveningscene. The large open space, which then existed where streets and squares are now crowded together, was covered with the good citizens of London and their wives and daughters, bedecked in their newest holiday costume. Lists, three hundred yards in length, were marked out in the centre of the field, and railed round, to prevent the entrance of the spectators. At one end a scaffold was erected for the accommodation of the king and queen and their attendants; it was hung with green silk, emblazoned with the royal arms in gold, and covered over with a beautiful bright blue cloth, spangled with silver stars. Near it were tents pitched for the use of the contending bowmen, and immediately opposite, at the far end of the lists, a broad target was placed, with a large wooden screen behind it, to stop the flight of any stray arrows that did not hit the mark. All were in busy expectation,—for the royal party had not yet arrived,—and many were the wagers laid upon the favourite archers of Finsbury. At length a blast of trumpets was heard, and two heralds, dressed in glittering coats of golden tissue, with emblazoned banners hanging from their spirit-stirring instruments, entered the ground. The king,mounted on a barbed charger, and the queen upon a milk-white palfrey, both magnificently caparisoned, then appeared, amid the waving of caps, and the deafening acclamations of the assembled thousands. Next followed, upon steeds of the purest white, a bevy of fair ladies in attendance upon their royal mistress; and a band of knights and gentlemen, well mounted and richly dressed, closed the procession.
“As soon as the royal party had alighted, and had taken their seats upon the gallery, proclamation was made by sound of trumpet, that a tun of the best Rhenish wine, and a hundred of the fattest harts that ran in ‘Dallom Chase,’ would be given to the truest marksman. The archers were then ordered to advance to their posts, and a line was drawn upon which they were to step when they discharged their arrows. Six bowmen appeared, wearing the king’s livery, and marching to the gallery, they doffed their caps to their royal master, and took their appointed station.
“‘Is there no one,’ asked King Henry aloud,—‘is there no bold forester to oppose my gallant archers?’
“‘A boon, my liege,—a boon,’—cried Queen Eleanor. ‘Promise me by the saint whose feast wecelebrate, that whoever draws bow on my side shall depart uninjured and free for forty days.’
“‘I grant thy boon, fair Eleanor,’ replied the king; ‘but who are these gallant bowmen that require thine intercession?’
“‘Bid the heralds sound again,’ said Eleanor, ‘and thou shalt see them.’ The trumpets again played, and the challenge from the king’s archers was repeated.
“‘The queen waved a light green scarf, and six tall yeomen entered the lists, and advancing to the gallery, bowed lowly to their royal patroness. One of them, evidently the commander of the little band, was clothed in a rich scarlet doublet and trunk hose of the same bright colour; a baldric of light blue silk, interwoven with threads of gold, crossed his shoulder, supporting his quiver and a small golden bugle, and in his hand he carried a most beautifully wrought bow. His companions were dressed in the favourite Lincoln green, and like their commander, each wore a black bonnet with a white streaming feather.
“‘Welcome, good Locksley,’ said the queen, addressing the yeoman in scarlet. ‘Thou must draw thybest bow for Queen Eleanor;’ then turning to the noblemen around her, ‘Who will support our brave party?’ she asked. ‘My good lord bishop of Hereford, wilt thou not in gallantry be on our side?’
“‘Thou hast six of the best archers of Finsbury to contend against, gracious madam,’ replied the prelate, ‘and thy men are all strangers; we know not if they can draw a bow-string.’
“‘Will your grace wager against us?’ asked Locksley of the bishop.
“‘Aye! by my mitre, willingly,’ returned the bishop rather warmly; ‘I’ll wager a purse of gold against thee and thy whole band;’ and he drew forth about fifty golden nobles. Locksley replied by throwing upon the turf before the gallery a little bag containing at least an equal quantity of the precious metal, and both stakes were given to the king as umpire of the sport.
“The royal archers now took their station upon the line, and one after another let fly an arrow at the broad target. ‘Why give us such a mark as that?’ cried one of them, named Clifton, as his arrow pierced the centre. ‘We’ll shoot at the sun and moon.‘Boldly said, my fine fellow,’ replied Locksley as he drew his bow-string; ‘you and I will have a bout together presently:’ and carelessly discharging his arrow, it quivered within a hair’s breadth of his opponent’s. The spectators pleased at such fine archery, shouted at the sight, but the king and the bishop of Hereford could ill conceal their surprise and disappointment. Locksley’s men followed, and each one’s arrow alighted within a few inches of the centre of the target, but so had those of the royal archers.
“‘The game is equal,’ said the king, when he had mounted his horse and galloped across the field; ‘ye must shoot again, my brave men. Finsbury has ne’er before seen such archery as this.’
“‘If my gallant friend here,’ cried Locksley, ‘who aims at nothing less than bringing down yon glorious sun, will but agree to the trial, he and I might decide this contest between ourselves. That is,’ he continued, ‘with your majesty’s royal leave.’
“‘What say’st thou, Clifton? art thou content to stake thy reputation against this braggart’s?’ asked King Henry.
“‘Right willingly, my liege,’ replied the archer;‘I’ll lay my own trusty bow against his, that he hits not the mark that I do.’
‘A fair wager,’ cried Locksley, ‘which I readily accept.’
“At the instigation of the champions the broad target was removed, and in its place, a slight willow wand, not above an inch and a half in circumference, was planted firmly in the earth. The spectators gazed with increased wonder. ‘They surely will not aim at such a mark as that,’ said they one to another. But the royal bowman stepped to the line, and after carefully adjusting his arrow, let it fly: it peeled off the bark of the wand as it passed by, and alighted in the earth a few yards farther on. A loud huzza rent the air, and ‘Clifton! a Clifton!’ was shouted from one end of the lists to the other. The gay yeoman did not wait till these cries had subsided. ‘I will notch his shaft,’ he said aloud as he advanced composedly to his post; and fitting his arrow, he drew the bow-string to his ear, and after one moment’s deliberation discharged the weapon with his utmost force. The shaft flew true, and to the amazement of the beholders, rived asunder that of hisopponent. At first a deep silence prevailed, many could not see where the arrow had struck, and some were dumb with astonishment; but when one of the attendants pulled it forth, a shout of applause was raised, so loud, so long, and so vehement, that those of the good citizens of London who had remained at home rushed forth from the gates in hundreds to inquire the cause of so violent an outbreak.
“The king’s vexation at this defeat of his party quickly changed into admiration of Locksley’s superior skill. He rode up to his side: ‘Wilt thou be one of my archers?’ he asked; ‘a hundred pounds a year, the free use of my pantry, and a new suit of livery each three months, shall be thy reward.’
“‘It grieves me, my liege,’ replied the yeoman, ‘that I cannot comply with thy request; but grant me one boon, and I and my gallant men will support thee to our deaths.’
“‘Name it, good Locksley; ’tis already granted;’ said the king.
“‘Pardon, most gracious liege, pardon for the outlawed Robin Hood and his brave followers.’
“‘And art thou Robin Hood?’ asked Henry,his countenance flushed with anger, ‘whose defiance of the law has filled the whole north country with alarm. By St. George, but thou art the boldest villain that e’er shot bow. Ho! guards there, take charge of this over-valiant knave.’
“‘Remember thy promise,’ cried a gentle voice from the gallery. ‘Remember thou hast pledged thine honour.
“King Henry turned as he recognised the sweet tones of his lovely consort, and a smile played upon his lips as he replied, ‘’Twas but in jest, fair Eleanor, ’twas but in jest.’ ‘We will willingly grant pardon to thee and thy followers,’ he continued to the outlaw, ‘if ye will forsake your unlawful pursuits, and lead the sober lives of honest yeomen.’
“‘We cannot quit the green woods of Sherwood,’ said Robin Hood; ‘but if your majesty will grant us leave to range the forest, and now and then exercise our archery upon one of the thousands of fat deer that bound so gaily o’er the lawns, we will promise that no traveller shall again complain of the outlaws of Nottinghamshire.’
“The king bit his lips in silence, but at thatmoment the defeated archer advanced and tendered his bow to the victor.
“‘Thou’rt a good marksman, Clifton,’ said he; ‘if thou hadst made a little more allowance for the distance, thine arrow would not have passed the wand; keep thy bow, man; though I tell it thee, there’s but one better archer in merry England.’
“‘If I had known that thou wert Robin Hood,’ cried the bishop of Hereford, as the king delivered the well-filled purses to the outlaw, ‘I would not have wagered against thee. Thou hast already had more gold of mine than I e’er intended.’
“‘Surely thou dost not forget the jovial dinner we gave thee under our trysting tree,’ replied Robin Hood; ‘yet if thou dost begrudge the payment, I will return it even now.’
“‘Nay, nay, master,’ cried Little John, who had accompanied his captain, ‘that were unwise; since thou hast promised not to relieve travellers of their superfluous wealth, ’twere folly not to keep all the gold thou comest honestly by.’ Robin Hood with a smile threw the purses to his more considerate follower, bowed low to the king, and still lower to his fairpatroness, and accompanied by his five gay yeomen, departed from the field.
“Sherwood forest soon rung again with the sound of his bugle-horn, but the promise given on Finsbury field was kept during King Henry’s life-time; no traveller had reason to complain of the bold outlaws.
“We must suppose that several years had elapsed since Robin Hood’s victory in Finsbury field, when the following tale commences. Richard the Lion-hearted had succeeded to his father’s throne, and with many of his nobles had joined the memorable crusades. During his absence in Palestine, the internal state of England had become far worse than it was at the time of his accession. Baron rose up against baron, and princes made war upon each other, till discord, tumult, and fierce rapine, reigned throughout the land. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at, when the laws were for a time suspended and force of arms alone decided the contest, that the bold foresters had again recourse to their superior strength.
“It was a bright morning in early summer, whena solitary horseman was proceeding upon his journey through one of the narrow roads that crossed Barnesdale forest;
“‘All dreary was his semblance,And little was his pride,His one foot in the stirrup stood,The other waved beside;“‘His hood was hanging o’er his eyes,He rode in simple array,A sorrier man than he was oneRode never on summer’s day.’
“‘All dreary was his semblance,And little was his pride,His one foot in the stirrup stood,The other waved beside;“‘His hood was hanging o’er his eyes,He rode in simple array,A sorrier man than he was oneRode never on summer’s day.’
“‘All dreary was his semblance,And little was his pride,His one foot in the stirrup stood,The other waved beside;
“‘All dreary was his semblance,
And little was his pride,
His one foot in the stirrup stood,
The other waved beside;
“‘His hood was hanging o’er his eyes,He rode in simple array,A sorrier man than he was oneRode never on summer’s day.’
“‘His hood was hanging o’er his eyes,
He rode in simple array,
A sorrier man than he was one
Rode never on summer’s day.’
“A deep sigh escaped from the melancholy horseman, and big tears coursed each other down his cheeks, at every step of his poor lean beast; and when three men suddenly emerged from the wood, and stood before his path, he seemed scarcely conscious of their presence.
“‘God save thee, sir knight,’ cried one of them, a tall forester, nearly seven feet high, moved with compassion at his forlorn appearance. ‘Welcome to our merry green-wood. Thou must be our guest to-day.’
“‘Leave me, good sirs, I pray ye,’ said the knightmournfully, ‘my sorrows are already too heavy for me to bear; add not to my distress.’
“‘Nay, be not so downcast,’ returned the former speaker. ‘Thou art in good hands, and may’st trust us. Our master waits dinner for a guest, and thou art the first man who has passed through Barnesdale this day.’ Then taking the knight’s rein in his hand, the forester led the jaded steed through the intricate paths of the wood, until he arrived at an open lawn, where a band of yeomen were reclining under the shade of a huge elm.
“‘Welcome, sir knight,’ said one of them rising and doffing his cap at the appearance of a stranger. ‘Welcome to merry Barnesdale.’
“‘Who art thou,’ inquired the horseman, ‘that causest travellers to be constrained from their way? I am but a poor knight, without so much as a piece of gold, wherewith to buy me food.’
“‘More welcome still,’ exclaimed the forester, assisting him from his horse. ‘We shall have the blessings of charity upon our deeds. Thou hast heard of Robin Hood,—I am that outlaw, and these are my gallant followers.’
“‘Unless report belie thee,’ replied the knight, ‘thou art a friend to the unfortunate. Dismiss me at once, and let me speed on.’
“‘Dine with us first,’ said the forester, ‘and freely shalt thou depart.’ A cloth was spread beneath the shady branches, and covered with a profusion of the most delicious viands. Rhenish wine also, and ale plentifully abounded, and with cheerful hearts about twenty yeomen seated themselves around. ‘Eat gladly, sir knight,’ said Robin Hood; ‘here’s to thy health, and a more merry countenance;’ and as he spake he tossed off the contents of a goblet.
“‘Thanks, thanks, my noble host,’ replied the stranger; ‘it grieves me that I shall ne’er be able to return thy goodness.’
“‘Truly, good sir, thou look’st but grievous,’ answered the outlaw. ‘Tell me, is there aught in which my services can avail thee; what is the cause of thy deep sorrow?’
“‘I have lost land and gold,’ returned the knight, ‘and I fear that my good name must follow them.’ His tears burst out afresh. ‘They call me,’ he continued, ‘Sir Rychard o’ the Lee. I am sprung ofnoble blood, and for these last three hundred years have mine ancestors wore spurs. Twelve short months ago I had a noble house and fine estate, with four hundred pounds a year; but now, except my lovely wife and my sweet children, I have nothing in the world.’
“‘How hast thou lost thy riches?” inquired Robin Hood anxiously.
“‘’Tis a short story,’ replied the knight; ‘I fought in a fair field with a knight of Lancashire, and slew him. To save my liberty, I mortgaged the broad lands of Wierysdale to St. Mary’s Abbey, and if I pay not the amount to-morrow, my castle will be forfeited.’
“‘What is the sum thou owest, and what wilt thou do if thou losest thy land?’ asked the outlaw.
“‘Four hundred golden pounds must I pay, if I would keep fair Wierysdale,’ he replied. ‘I go to beg grace for another year; if the holy abbot will not grant it, I must flee away across the broad seas to a country where they know me not.’
“‘Where are thy friends?’ asked Little John; ‘will they not be security for thee?’
“‘Alas,’ replied Sir Rychard, ‘when I had money and house, and lands, I lacked not friends, but now my oldest companions turn from me as a herd of deer would from a poor wounded hart. My only trust is in God and the blessed saints.’
“‘Will Peter, or Paul, or John, be surety for thee?’ asked the outlaw. ‘By my troth, good sir, thou must find wealthier friends than they.’
“‘I have none other,’ replied the knight mournfully, ‘except it be the Blessed Mary, who in all my trials has never failed me.’
“‘Thou hast indeed a good friend,’ said Robin Hood; ‘and if thou wilt swear by our dear Lady that in twelve months from this day it shalt be restored to me, I will lend thee what thou wantest.’ The knight fell upon his knees, gave the required promise, and drawing forth a silver image of the Virgin, he devoutly kissed it.
“In the meanwhile Little John had gone to the outlaws’ treasury, and now returned with a heavy bag. He quickly counted out four hundred pieces of gold and offered them to the knight, with a beautiful doublet of scarlet cloth. These he readilyaccepted. At Robin Hood’s bidding, a gallant grey steed with rich housings was next brought forth, and after having received a pair of golden spurs from the hands of the noble outlaw, the knight vaulted into the saddle.
“‘’Twould be a shame,’ said Robin Hood, ‘that so well equipped a knight should ride without esquire; ‘I will lend thee my brave man, Little John, until thou gettest a yeoman for thy service.’ The forester willingly agreed, and mounting a stout palfrey, he was soon ready to accompany his new master. With tears of joy instead of sorrow, the knight bade farewell to his kind and generous host, struck his spurs into his new charger, and followed by Little John, galloped swiftly over the plain.
“On the morning after this adventure, the holy superior of St. Mary’s Abbey, in the old city of York, was seated in his hall, attended by several of the monks.
“‘Upon this day twelve months ago,’ said he to his attentive listeners, ‘there came a knight who borrowed four hundred pounds, upon the security of his lands and castle. The hour is near at hand; unlesshe appear and pay the money before yon glass has run, the fair lands of Wierysdale will belong to this sanctuary.’
“‘It is early yet, holy father,’ replied the prior; ‘the poor man may be in a far country, and it would be hard to use him thus harshly. Methinks thy conscience, my lord abbot, would but ill bear so rude a treatment to an unfortunate knight.’
“‘Thou art ever in my beard,’ exclaimed the superior angrily. ‘By all the saints I swear that, unless the knight of Wierysdale appear ere the sun has set, he shall be disinherited.’
“‘He is either dead or he cannot pay,’ said a fat monk, who was high cellarer, ‘and St. Mary’s Abbey will be enriched with a goodly sum. Shall I not seek the lord justice, holy father, and bid him attend to prepare deeds for the transfer of the land.’
“‘Yea, brother,’ replied the abbot; ‘’tis but lost time to wait for our debtor, therefore use despatch, good brother—use despatch.’ The cellarer left the room as quickly as his fat limbs would carry him, and in less than an hour returned with the lord chief justice.
“In the mean time Sir Rychard o’ the Lee and his esquire had arrived in York, and taken up their abode at an inn. After they had rested for awhile from the fatigue of their journey, they dressed themselves in their sorriest habiliments, and set out to the abbey. Upon knocking at the great gates, they were immediately admitted, and conducted into a lofty and spacious room, whose high pointed roof ornamented with grotesque images, narrow Gothic windows, and beautifully tesselated pavement, combined to strike the beholder with admiration, and increase his reverence for the inmates of such a noble dwelling.
“The knight and his attendant doffed their caps and bowed low as they entered the hall, and advanced to the upper end, where, upon a carved oaken throne, sat the abbot of St. Mary’s, with the lord chief justice of York by his side.
“‘God save thee, holy father,’ said the knight, as he kneeled before him; ‘I have attended thee this day as thou didst bid me.’
“‘Hast thou brought any money, sir knight?’ asked the priest in a harsh tone.
“‘Not one penny,’ replied the suppliant. ‘I amcome to beg that thou wilt extend the time of payment for one more year.’
“‘That is unfortunate,’ rejoined the abbot, with difficulty repressing his delight at the intelligence. ‘The day is nearly gone, and unless thou canst pay down four hundred pounds ere the setting of the sun, thy lands must pass to the accruement of St. Mary’s Abbey. Sir justice,’ he continued, looking askance, ‘here’s to thee;’ and in the height of his satisfaction he emptied a goblet of wine at a single draught.
“‘Good sir justice,’ said the knight imploringly, ‘wilt thou not assist me in my distress. Day by day will I serve thee until I have repaid thy goodness.’
“‘Nay, sir,’ returned the justice, ‘I cannot do it if I had the will.’ ‘Give him two hundred pounds more, holy father, and the good knight will sign thee a release of the lands that he can no longer claim.’
“‘Never,’ replied the knight fiercely, as he started to his feet. ‘Merciless tyrants as ye are, ye get not my lands thus. Never shall monk or friar be heir to Wierysdale.’
“‘What,’ cried the priest, rising from his seat; ‘darest thou beard the abbot of St. Mary’s; outupon thee for a false knight, thy castle is no longer thine.’
‘Thou liest,’ returned the knight, stamping his heel upon the pavement until it rung again: ‘never was I false. I’ve stood in tournaments against noble earls and greater men than thou, and have oft proved myself a true knight and good. Take back thy gold,’ he continued, as he poured out the contents of his purse at the abbot’s feet; ‘and think not that thou canst so easily get the fair lands of Wierysdale. Hadst thou shown courtesy to a suppliant knight, thou should’st have had recompense.’ Then snatching away the papers which the justice had before him, Sir Rychard darted a look of defiance at the abbot, and with a firm step departed from the hall, leaving the holy father overwhelmed with astonishment, disappointment, and regret.
THE KNIGHT OF WIERYSDALEJ. Gilbert
THE KNIGHT OF WIERYSDALE
J. Gilbert
“Sir Rychard returned to his inn, gave away his old garments to the first beggar that passed by, and after dismissing his gallant esquire with the warmest thanks for his assistance, again started off with an attendant whom Little John had procured for him. He rode on, singing merrily, until he drew rein athis own gate in Wierysdale. His lady, with tears in her eyes, had been watching his approach, but when she saw the joyful countenance and proud bearing of her husband, she ran forth to clasp him in her arms, and learn the cause of such unexpected joy. The story was briefly told, and from that day to the end of their lives the good knight and his lady did not fail to remember in their prayers the name of Robin Hood.”
I had just finished this tale, when the chimes from the distant steeple faintly reached our ears. The hour at which we were expected back had arrived, and we were at least a quarter of an hour’s walk away. We started to our feet, bounded through the wood, and over the low palings, and made many a passenger laugh heartily as we chased past him to our home.