Part 2

“‘I have brought the sheriff of Nottingham to dine with ye to-day,’ replied Robin Hood; ‘make good cheer, and give him of the best.’

“‘Aye, marry, that will we,’ returned the tall forester, ‘for I know he has gold to pay for it:’ and gently obliging the sheriff to dismount, he unfastened the bag from the unfortunate man’s girdle, and taking his cloak from his shoulders, he spread it upon the grass, and emptied the gold upon it.

“‘Three hundred pounds will serve us for many a carouse,’ said Little John, when he had counted the money and replaced it in the bag. ‘And now, master sheriff,’ he continued, laughing, ‘would’st thou like venison for thy dinner? Hast thou any stomach for a smoking haunch?’

“‘Let me away,’ cried the sheriff, running to his horse’s side, ‘or you’ll all rue this day.’

“Robin Hood sprang to his assistance, held the stirrup while he mounted, and politely wishing him a pleasant journey home, desired to be especially commended to his wife. The poor sheriff, glad to escape sound in body, returned no answer; but striking spurs into his palfrey was soon out of sight. The merry foresters quickly repaired to their wonted spot, and with many a bumper of ale or wine, drank to the health and prosperity of the liberal sheriff of Nottingham.

ROBIN HOOD AND WILL SCARLET.

“The bold outlaws were afraid to show themselves for some time after this adventure, and for several weeks retired to a distant forest, where their haunts were not so well known as in Sherwood.

“Robin Hood was one morning rambling among the woods, when, through the branches of the trees, he caught sight of a gay young fellow walking carelessly along and whistling merrily. The stranger was clothed in a silken doublet of beautiful scarlet, his hose were likewise of the same bright colour, and his gay green cap was ornamented with a crimson feather. By his side hung a handsome broadsword, the hilt of which was studded with precious stones, and in his left hand he carried an elegantly carved bow; while a quiver of polished oak, inlaid with silver, was suspended by a silken baldric at his back.

“As he emerged from the thicket upon a little plain, on which the noon-day sun was permitted to shine unobscured by the deep foliage that on all sides surrounded him, the traveller’s heart leapt with joy at the sight of a herd of deer grazing quietly at the other end of the verdant glade.

“‘The fattest among ye,’ quoth he, loud enough for the outlaw to over-hear him, ‘shall serve my dinner to-day:’ and drawing an arrow from his quiver, he fixed it upon his bow, and discharged the weapon with such keen velocity that the noblest animal among the herd fell dead at the distance of forty yards.

“‘Well shot! well shot, my friend!’ cried Robin Hood, advancing from his concealment. ‘Would’st like to be a forester in this merry green-wood?’

“‘Where springest thou from?’ said the stranger, turning round sharply at the sound of a voice: ‘Go thou thine own way; I’ll go mine.’

“‘If thou’lt accept the place,’ returned the outlaw, unheeding this angry reply, ‘I’ll make thee a bold yeoman, and give thee livery of mine.’

“‘Livery!’ cried the other. ‘By St. George, an thou dost not take to thine heels, I’ll give thee such a buffet as shall make thine ears ring for many a mile.’

“Robin Hood drew back a step, and bent his ever-ready bow, and at the same time the stranger, quick as thought, drew another arrow from his quiver, and pointed it at the outlaw.

“‘Hold! hold!’ cried the latter. ‘This is cowards’ play. Take thy sword, man, and let’s fight it out under yonder tree.’

“‘With all my heart,’ replied the traveller; ‘and by my faith I will not leave thee till thou dost cry “‘a mercy.”’ Then laying aside their bows, each drew his sword, and stepping beneath the shade of a broad old oak, began the combat in right good earnest. The bold outlaw, seizing an unguarded moment, laid a blow upon the shoulder of his opponent that made him wince again; but, in retaliation, the stranger rushed furiously at Robin Hood, and struck him so violently upon the head that the blood ran trickling down from every hair.

“‘Mercy, good fellow—mercy,’ he cried, dropping his sword’s point to the earth, and leaning himself against the tree; ‘thou hast fairly beaten me. Tell me,—who art thou? and what seek’st thou here?’

“‘Ha! thou alterest thy tone now,’ answered the victor with a laugh; ‘but, if thou’rt a true man, thou may’st stand my friend. Know’st thou where dwells a yeoman they call Robin Hood?’

“‘Wherefore dost thou seek him?’ inquired the outlaw.

“‘I am his sister’s son,’ replied the youth. ‘I had the misfortune to slay my father’s steward in a quarrel, and am forced to flee from home.’

“‘Thy name?’ asked Robin Hood anxiously.

“‘Is Will Gamwell, of the town of Maxwell,’ replied the stranger.

“‘My brave boy, I am thine uncle,’ exclaimed the outlaw, clasping him in his arms with delight; ‘thou should’st have said this before we shed each other’s blood.’

“‘Forgive me—forgive me,’—cried the youth, bending on his knee; ‘and I’ll serve thee day and night.’

“‘Give me thy hand,’ replied Robin; ‘thou art a bold fellow, a true marksman, and a right valiant swordsman, as I know to my cost. Let us go seek my merry men.’ And with many a pleasant discourse the newly-found relations beguiled their path to the haunt of the outlaws. As they approached the spot, Robin Hood drew his bugle from his girdle, and sounded a few short notes. Before the music had ceased Little John stood at his side.

“‘Is danger at hand, good master?’ he said. ‘Where hast thou tarried so long? Whence this blood?’

“‘I met with this youth,’ replied Robin Hood, ‘and full sore has he beaten me.’

“‘Then I’ll have a bout with him,’ cried the tall forester, and see if he will beat me too;’ and with a staff in his hand he stepped before the stranger.

“‘Nay nay,’ said his captain, interfering, ‘that must not be; he is my own dear sister’s son, and next to thee shall be my chief yeoman.’

“‘Welcome, my friend, to merry Sherwood,’ exclaimed Little John, shaking the new comer by the hand. ‘We’ll have a rare feast for thee to-night. But by what name shall we call thee among our jovial comrades?’

“‘His name is Gamwell,’ replied Robin Hood; ‘but we had better re-christen him as we did thee; he has forsooth a fine scarlet doublet, and Will Scarlet shall be his name.’ Then again taking his bugle, he set it to his lips, and winded it till

“‘The warbling echoes wak’d from every dale and hill.’

“More than a hundred tall yeomen, clad in Lincoln green, soon attended this summons, bounding among the trees like so many playful deer.

“Will Scarlet, frightened at the sight of so many men, all armed with bows, cried to his uncle to fly from them, and was himself starting off at his full speed, when Robin Hood caught him by the arm, and laughing heartily at his terror, bade him behold his future companions.

“‘What want’st thou, good master?’ said Will Stutely, the leader of the band. ‘Thy bugle sounded so shrill we thought there had been work for us.’

“‘The danger’s over now,’ replied Robin Hood; ‘but welcome your new comrade; he is my own sister’s son, and has proved himself a gallant youth, for he has given me a famous beating.’

“The foresters set up a simultaneous shout, and each advancing in his turn took the hand of the delighted youth. The rest of the day was spent in feasting and sporting, till the departing rays of the sun warned them to their caves and bowers.”

Just as I had thus concluded, and my young companions were making their various remarks upon the merry life of the bold outlaws, the deep tone of our school-bell rang in our ears. Off we started, like a herd of deer frightened at the notes of Robin Hood’s bugle-horn.

OUR SECOND MEETING.

ROBIN HOOD AND ALLEN-A-DALE.

On the next evening, when I took my seat beneath the sycamore, I found that it was surrounded by no less than six of my school-fellows; so popular had been the legends of Robin Hood with my hearers of the previous day. I was mightily pleased at this, and with renewed confidence began the following tale:—

“Shortly after the accession of Will Scarlet to his company, Robin Hood was one morning roaming through the forest, when he beheld a young man, very elegantly dressed in crimson silk, skipping merrily over the green plain, singing a roundelay; his face was lighted up with gladness, and his heart seemed overflowing with joy.

“On the very next morning Robin Hood again encountered the same youth. All his finery was gone. He wore a russet suit, and his countenance was overspread with melancholy. He walked slowly, absorbed in meditation, and now and then broke out into exclamations of the keenest grief. The outlaw’s heart was moved. ‘What can have caused this sudden change,’ he said to himself: ‘perhaps I may relieve his sorrows;’ and emerging from the grove he stood before the young man’s path.

“‘What ailest thou my friend?’ he said to him; ‘but yesterday thou wert as gay as a lark, and to-day as thou wert at a funeral.’

“‘Why dost thou ask?’ said the youth: ‘thou canst not help me in my distress.’

“‘I have a hundred as good yeomen as ever drew bow in the green-wood,’ replied the outlaw, ‘that will do my bidding as I list.’

“‘Lend me thine aid,’ cried the young man eagerly, ‘and I’ll be thy true servant for ever. My name is Allen-a-Dale. But yesterday I was to have wedded the fairest maiden upon whom the sun ever shone. To-day she is taken from me, and will be forced to marry a rich old knight whom she detests.’

“‘Where is the wedding to take place,’ inquired Robin Hood.

“‘At the little church in the vale ’twixt here and Nottingham,’ replied the lover; ‘’tis not five miles distant.’

“‘We will try what’s to be done,’ rejoined Robin. ‘Come with me, and by my faith it shall go hard but thou gettest thy fair maiden yet;’ and taking the now hopeful youth by the hand, the outlaw led him away.

“Great preparations were made for the approaching wedding in the village church that Allen-a-Dale had mentioned. The lord bishop of the diocese was there, dressed in his gorgeous robes; and the cottagers, decked out in their holiday costume, were waiting anxiously to witness so grand a marriage. An old man with a long flowing beard likewise demanded and received admission into the interior of the sacred edifice. He wore a sombre-coloured mantle that entirely covered him, and carried, slung by a belt across his shoulders, a harp, which, as he seated himself near the altar, he placed at his feet, ready to strike on the appearance of the bridal party. Presently the grave old knight entered the church, leading the beautiful damsel by the hand. Young girls, dressed in white, scattered roses in their path as they advanced, and the harper sounded his noble instrument. The poor maiden seemed totally unconscious of all that passed. She walked slowly, with her head bent to the earth; and tears burst from her eyes, and coursed each other down her lovely cheeks: but the old knight was unmoved, and hurried her to the altar. The bishop opened his book and began the ceremony.

“‘I forbid this match,’ exclaimed a voice that seemed to proceed from where the harper sat.

“The reverend father, surprised at so unusual an interruption, stopped, and looked around:—‘Stand forth, whoever thou art, and state thy reasons,’ said he, after a long pause.

“‘This old knight is not the damsel’s free choice,’ cried the old man, rising from his seat, ‘and I forbid the marriage.’ At the same moment pulling away his false beard, and casting aside his cloak, ROBIN HOOD drew a bugle-horn from his baldric, and stunned the ears of bishop, knight, and maiden, with the loudness of his blast. At the summons four and twenty yeomen darted out of a grove that was close at hand, bounded like wild deer over the plain, and quickly entered the church. The first man among them was Allen-a-Dale. He ran to Robin Hood, and gave him his trusty bow; then, rushing to the altar, he hurled the old knight aside, and clasping the lovely maiden in his arms, bore her to the outlaw.

“‘Now, my good lord bishop,’ said Robin Hood, ‘thou may’st marry this fair lady to her own true love.’

“‘That cannot be,’ returned the bishop, closing his book with a loud clap; ‘the law requireth that the banns be published three times in the church.’

“‘We will soon remedy that,’ cried Little John, stepping forward from among the bowmen. ‘Lend me thy gown awhile, good master bishop, and I will do that office;’ and as he spake, he entered the enclosed space by the altar, and stood by the side of the reverend father, who, with a very ill will, suffered his robe to be taken from his person.

“The foresters and villagers, one and all, could not restrain their mirth when the tall yeoman put the garment upon himself, and took up the bishop’s volume. For fear that thrice might not be enough, he published the banns seven times, while Allen-a-Dale and his betrothed took their places at the altar steps.

“‘Who gives away this maid?’ asked Little John when he had finished that part of his duty.

“‘That do I,’ answered Robin Hood, who stood at the damsel’s side. ‘Where’s the man who dares dispute my gift?’ and clapping the bridegroom upon his shoulders—‘Cheer ye, my gallant friend,’ he cried; ‘by my troth thou hast boldly won the fairest maiden in Christendom.’

“Neither the old knight nor the bishop interposed, but while Little John proceeded with the ceremony they both left the church. As soon as all was concluded, the young girls again strewed flowers in the path of the now joyous bride, the bells struck up a merry peal, and the villagers and foresters, rushing out of the church, greeted the happy pair with loud shouts of joy. Robin Hood and his men escorted them home, and having drunk to the welfare and happiness of young Allen-a-Dale and his fair lady, they again returned to their green-wood shades.

ROBIN HOOD’S GOLDEN PRIZE.

“There were many days in which the outlaws of Sherwood scarcely knew how to pass away their time. They often grew tired of their easy and careless life, and longed for an adventure where more active exertions would be required. Robin Hood, especially, could ill brook the monotony of a forester’s life. He was ever bent upon some enterprise, either by himself alone, or with the assistance of his followers; and rarely a week passed but that the bold captain threw a good store of gold into his treasury. One day he disguised himself in the dress of a friar. A long dark-coloured gown completely covered his green doublet, and a large cowl over his head nearly concealed his features. His waist was girt round with a white woollen rope, from which were suspended a string of beads and an ivory crucifix. Thus attired, with a staff in his hand, he took the high road, and trudged on merrily. The first persons he met were, an honest husbandman, clad in tattered garments, carrying a chubby boy in his arms, and his wife, with an infant, following mournfully in his steps. Robin Hood stopped them, inquired the cause of their grief, and learned that their cottage had been burned down by a party of marauders, and that they were then on their way to Nottingham, where the poor man hoped to obtain employment.

“The seeming priest, moved with compassion at their forlorn state, drew forth a broad piece of gold and gave it to the wanderers, who ever after blessed the day they met the generous friar.

“Robin Hood walked on nearly a mile farther without meeting a single traveller, when at last he espied two monks in black gowns coming towards him, riding upon mules.

“‘Benedicite,’ said Robin Hood meekly, as they drew near him; ‘I pray ye, holy brethren, have pity upon a poor wandering friar, who has neither broken bread nor drank of the cup this day.’

“‘We are grieved, good brother,’ replied one of the monks, ‘we have not so much as a penny. Robbers met us on the way, who have stripped us of all our gold.’

“‘I fear thou tellest not the truth,’ returned the friar. ‘Wherefore did they leave ye those beasts?’

“‘Now by’r lady,’ cried the second monk, ‘thou art an insolent fellow,’ and pushing on their mules he and his companion galloped off. The outlaw laughed at their precipitate decampment, then starting off at his best speed, he soon overtook them. ‘Brethren,’ he cried, as one after the other he pulled them from their saddles, ‘since we have no money, let us pray to our dear lady to send us some;’ and falling on his knees he made the monks kneel down beside him. The old ballad says

“‘The priests did pray, with mournful cheer, Sometimes their hands did wring, Sometimes they wept and cried aloud, Whilst Robin did merrily sing.’

“After some time thus spent, the outlaw rose. ‘Now, my brethren,’ quoth he, ‘let us see what money has been sent us—we will all share alike;’ and putting his hand in his pocket he pulled forth twenty pieces of gold, and laid them on the grass. The monks fumbled a long time amid their garments, but could find nothing.

“‘Let me search,’ cried the friar; ‘perchance ye have not hit upon the right pocket.’ The monks reluctantly consented, and presently the outlaw drew forth two purses, and counted out five hundred golden crowns.

“‘Here is a brave show,’ said Robin Hood, ‘Such store of gold to see; And ye shall each of ye have a part ’Cause you prayed so heartily.’

“He then gave them back each fifty pieces, which the monks eagerly seized, and running to the side of their mules they were about to ride off. ‘Stay,’ cried the outlaw; ‘two things ye must swear: first—that ye will never tell lies again; and secondly—that ye will be charitable to the poor.’ The priests fell on their knees and gave the required promise to Robin Hood, and then

“‘He set them on their beasts again, And away then they did ride; And he returned to the merry green-wood With great joy, mirth, and pride.’”

“Can you remember the whole of any ballad?” asked one of my hearers. “If you could I should like very much to hear it.”

“And so should I.”—“And I.”—“And I.”—cried two or three other voices.

“I fear there will be some parts that you will scarcely understand,” I replied; “but as you wish it, you shall hear of

ROBIN HOOD AND THE RANGER; OR, TRUE FRIENDSHIP AFTER A FIERCE FIGHT.

“When Phœbus had melted the ‘sickles’ of ice, And likewise the mountains of snow, Bold Robin Hood he would ramble away, To frolic abroad with his bow.

“He left all his merry men waiting behind, Whilst through the green valleys he pass’d, Where he did behold a forester bold, Who cry’d out, ‘Friend, whither so fast?’

“I am going,’ quoth Robin, ‘to kill a fat buck, For me and my merry men all; Besides, ere I go, I’ll have a fat doe, Or else it shall cost me a fall.’

“‘You’d best have a care,’ said the forester then, ‘For these are his majesty’s deer; Before you shall shoot, the thing I’ll dispute, For I am head forester here.’

“‘These thirteen long summers,’ quoth Robin, ‘I’m sure, My arrows I here have let fly; Where freely I range, methinks it is strange You should have more power than I.

“‘This forest,’ quoth Robin, ‘I think is my own, And so are the nimble deer too; Therefore I declare, and solemnly swear, I’ll not be affronted by you.’

“The forester he had a long quarter staff, Likewise a broadsword by his side; Without more ado, he presently drew, Declaring the truth should be tried.

“Bold Robin Hood had a sword of the best, Thus, ere he could take any wrong, His courage was flush, he’d venture a brush, And thus they fell to it ding dong.

“The very first blow that the forester gave, He made his broad weapon cry twang; ’Twas over the head, he fell down for dead, O that was a terrible bang!

“But Robin he soon recovered himself, And bravely fell to it again; The very next stroke their weapons they broke, Yet never a man there was slain.

“At quarter staff then they resolved to play, Because they would have the other bout; And brave Robin Hood right valiantly stood; Unwilling he was to give out.

“Bold Robin he gave him very hard blows, The other return’d them as fast; At every stroke their jackets did smoke; Three hours the combat did last.

“At length in a rage the forester grew, And cudgel’d bold Robin so sore That he could not stand, so shaking his hand, He cry’d, ‘Let us freely give o’er.

“‘Thou art a brave fellow, I needs must confess I never knew any so good; Thou art fitting to be a yeoman for me, And range in the merry green-wood.’

“Robin Hood set his bugle horn to his mouth, A blast then he merrily blows; His yeomen did hear, and straight did appear A hundred with trusty long bows.

“Now Little John came at the head of them all, Cloth’d in a rich mantle of green; And likewise the rest were gloriously drest, A delicate sight to be seen!

“‘Lo! these are my yeomen,’ said bold Robin Hood, ‘And thou shalt be one of the train, A mantle and bow, and quiver also, I give them whom I entertain.’

“The forester willingly entered the list, They were such a beautiful sight; Then with a long bow they shot a fat doe, And made a rich supper that night,

“What singing and dancing was in the green-wood, For joy of another new mate! With might and delight they spent all the night, And liv’d at a plentiful rate.

“Quoth he, ‘My brave yeomen, be true to your trust, And then we may range the woods wide.’ They all did declare, and solemnly swear, They would conquer, or die by his side.”

This ballad was highly approved of; and when, as usual, a few remarks had been made upon the valour of the champions, I resumed my tales, and told of

ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE.

“How delightful are the woods upon a summer’s morn. The bright foliage of the trees now shines in its deepest verdure; the lawns and glades are clothed with luxuriant grass and sweet wild flowers, upon which the dew-drops glisten in the rising sun. The merry birds sitting upon the tender branches pour forth their morning lays; and yon lark, now soaring high towards the blue expanse of heaven, makes hill and dale re-echo with her melodious carol;—all telling of the goodness of their Creator, and praising him for his wondrous works. Thus thought Robin Hood as, on a bright morning in the pleasant month of June, he wandered amid the trees of Barnesdale. He had been awakened earlier than usual from his slumbers by the loud and incessant singing of a golden thrush: he arose, and rambled forth, enjoying the freshness of the morning breeze, and the sweet music that was borne upon it. Many a hart darted across his path, and many a young fawn skipped playfully at his side, and then bounded into the recesses of the forest. At another time the outlaw’s keen arrow would have followed them, but now he smiled at their merry gambols, and charmed with the loveliness of the scene, he rested upon his bow, and contemplated with heart-felt pleasure the tranquil beauty of the morn. He continued thus, absorbed in meditation, when suddenly a distant sound broke upon the stillness of the air.

“The outlaw listened for a moment. ‘’Tis the tramp of horses,’ he whispered to himself; and stepping to a tree, quick as thought he climbed amid its branches. Thence he could plainly distinguish the glitter of spear-heads and bright helmets, and scarce had he secured himself from observation, when several horsemen, followed by a troop of soldiers, passed within a few yards of his hiding-place. In the leader, Robin Hood at once recognised his old friend, the sheriff of Nottingham, who he had no doubt was now come with his men to seek for the traitorous butcher of Sherwood.