Part 1

=_Instructor Literature Series--No. 212_=

The Story of

Robin Hood

By

BERTHA E. BUSH

Published Jointly By

F. A. OWEN PUB. CO., DANSVILLE, N. Y.

HALL & McCREARY,--CHICAGO, ILL.

INSTRUCTOR LITERATURE SERIES

STORIES OF

ROBIN HOOD

BY

_Bertha E. Bush_

PUBLISHED JOINTLY BY F. A. OWEN PUB. CO., DANSVILLE, N. Y.

HALL & MCCREARY, CHICAGO, ILL.

COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY F. A. OWEN PUBLISHING CO

_Robin Hood_

CONTENTS

WINNING THE SHERIFF'S GOLDEN ARROW HOW LITTLE JOHN JOINED ROBIN HOOD ALLEN-A-DALE AND FRIAR TUCK ROBIN HOOD AND THE SORROWFUL KNIGHT ROBIN HOOD AND THE KING DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD ROBIN HOOD AND ALLEN-A-DALE

Stories of Robin Hood

"And what of Peter the Ploughman? He was a good friend of mine."

"Alack, Peter the Ploughman hath been hanged and his wife and little ones turned out of their home to beg."

The father of young Robin Hood with his little son at his side, had met a man from his old home and was eagerly questioning him about the welfare of his old neighbors. But much of the news was sad, for the times were evil in England. The Normans had conquered the country and were the lords and officials in the land, and they cruelly oppressed the common people, who were Saxons. The father said not a word although his face grew very sad, but the boy beside him burst out indignantly.

"But why should such a thing be done? Peter the Ploughman was one of the best men I ever knew and his wife was as good and kind as an angel. Why should such a dreadful thing be done to them?"

"Because he shot deer in the king's forest. But indeed he had an excuse for breaking the law if ever a man did. His crops had been destroyed by the huntsmen riding through them. The tax collector had taken all that he had, and his children were crying for hunger. He shot the deer that they might have food to eat; but the sheriff caught him and hung him for it. As to the reason why his wife was turned out from her home with her orphan children, the abbot wanted that bit of ground for an extension to his garden, so out the poor folks must go."

"It's a shame," cried the boy with flashing eyes. "Such laws as that are wicked laws and ought to be broken. The greedy lords and rich, ease-loving churchmen strip the people bare and go rolling in wealth while the rest of the people are starving."

"Hush, boy, hush," said the news-teller warningly. "Our England is indeed cruelly misgoverned, but it is not safe to say so, for the very walls have ears and many have been hanged because their tongues wagged too freely, as well as for shooting the king's deer."

"But the king,--the king is good," faltered the boy. He had been taught to love and reverence the king.

"The king would be a good king if he would stay at home and govern his people. But he is off at war all the time, and the nobles and officers he appoints grind the people as a miller grinds the wheat between his great millstones. They rob them continually, and the rich are growing richer and more greedy and the poor growing poorer and more miserable all the time."

"When I am a man," said the boy, Robin Hood, "I will make the rich give up a portion of their wealth to the poor, and then all will be provided for."

It was not strange, perhaps, considering the evils of the times, that this boy, Robin Hood, when he became a man, did do just what he said, and gathered a band of men about him in the forest whose pledged purpose was to despoil the rich of ill-gotten wealth and lend a helping hand to the poor. The Normans called them "highway robbers," but the common people called them "the merry men of greenwood" and loved them, for they were often helped out of trouble by them. Their robbing was certainly wrong according to our standards, but Robin Hood did not think it was wrong. He took from the rich what they had wrung unjustly from the poor to give it back to the poor, and he thought that it was right. Outlaw though he was, he stood ever for justice and fairness as he saw it. He was loyal to the king, though he resisted the unjust exactions made in the king's name. He was loyal to the church and prayed most reverently for himself and his band. It was his pride that he and his men had never harmed a woman, or burned a haystack, or robbed a husbandman, or hurt a parish priest. The Normans did all these things. Compared with their actions, Robin Hood's standards were wonderfully high.

He was trying to be a reformer; and though he went about his work in a wrong way, still he did much good. As the quaint old ballad says about him--in queer spelling which I revise,

"Christ have mercy on his soul That died on the rood! For he was a good outlaw And did poor men much good."

He was brave and kind and merry always, and all the English people--except England's oppressors--loved him with all their hearts and delighted in his adventures. The story of what he did was put into songs and sung at every fireside; and no man was better loved than this outlaw with a price upon his head.

Here are a few stories of Robin Hood and his men, and a great many more may be found which are well worth your reading.

WINNING THE SHERIFF'S GOLDEN ARROW

It was very pleasant in Sherwood Forest to those who did not fear hardship, and Robin Hood and his men came to love every tree that grew and every bird that sang there. They did not mind that they had no houses to live in. They made themselves shelters of bark and logs to keep the rain off, and mostly they stayed in the open. They did not sigh for soft beds or fine tables and furnishings. They put down rushes and spread deer skins over them to lie on, and slept under the stars. They cooked over a great fire built beside a big tree, and they sat and ate on the ground.

More than a hundred men were in Robin Hood's band; every one was devoted to him and obeyed his slightest word. They were the best archers, the best wrestlers, the best runners and the best wielders of cudgel and quarter-staff in all the country, and they grew better continually, for they practiced these things every day.

Robin Hood was the best archer in all the land. Even the king had heard of his wonderful marksmanship, and even though he knew him an outlaw, he had an admiring and almost kindly feeling for this bold outlaw who shot so marvelously well. But the greedy lords and churchmen who oppressed the people hated Robin Hood; and the sheriff of Nottingham hated him most of all, and wished above all things to hang him on the gallows.

He was a cruel, hard man with no kindness in his bosom, and all his spite was turned against Robin Hood, because every time that he tried to catch him, Robin outwitted him. Now he was especially angered, for he had sent a messenger with a warrant to take Robin Hood and the merry Robin had met the messenger and feasted him, and then, while he was asleep after the feast, stolen the very warrant out of his pocket so that he had to go back to the sheriff without man or warrant either. So the sheriff of Nottingham used all his wits to get another plan to take Robin Hood. It was plainly of no use to send men, no matter how stout, with warrants after him. He must be coaxed into their clutches.

"I have it," said the sheriff of Nottingham at last, with a very sour look on his grim face. "I'll catch him by craft. I'll proclaim a great archery festival, and get all the best archers in England to come here to shoot. I'll offer for the prize an arrow of beaten gold. That will be sure to fetch Robin Hood and his men here, and then I'll catch them and hang them."

Now Robin Hood and his men did come to the archery contest. But they did not come in the suits of Lincoln green that they wore as men of the forest. Each man dressed himself up to seem somebody else. Some appeared as barefoot friars, some as traveling tinkers or tradesmen, some as beggars, and some as rustic peasants. Robin Hood was the hardest to recognize of all.

"Don't go, master," his men had begged. "This archery contest is just a trap to catch you. The sheriff of Nottingham and his men will be looking for you and they will know you by your hair and eyes and face and height, even if you wear different clothes. The sheriff has made this festival just to lure you to death. Don't go."

But Robin Hood laughed merrily.

"Why, as to my yellow hair, I can stain that with walnut stain. As to my eyes, I can cover one of them with a patch and then my face will not be recognized. I would scorn to be afraid, and if an adventure is somewhat dangerous, I like it all the better."

So Robin Hood went, clad from top to toe in tattered scarlet, the raggedest beggarman that had ever been seen in Nottingham. The field where the contest was to be held was a splendid sight. Rows and rows of benches had been built on it for the gentlefolk to sit on, and they wore their best clothes and were gayer than birds of paradise. As for the sheriff and his wife, they wore velvet, the sheriff purple and his lady blue. Their rich garments were trimmed with ermine. They wore broad gold chains around their necks, and the sheriff had shoes with wondrously pointed toes that were fastened to his gold-embroidered garters by golden chains. Oh! they were dressed very splendidly, and if their faces had been kind, they would have looked beautiful. But their faces were full of pride and hate. The sheriff was looking everywhere with spiteful glances for Robin Hood, and very cross he was that he did not see Robin there.

But Robin was there, though the sheriff did not see him. There he stood in his ragged beggar's garments, not ten feet away from the sheriff.

The targets were placed eighty yards from where the archers were to stand. Pace that off, and see what a great distance it is. There were a great number of archers to shoot and each was to have one shot. Then the ten who shot best were to shoot two arrows each; and the three who shot best out of the ten were to shoot three arrows apiece. The one who came nearest to the center of the target was to get a prize.

The sheriff looked gloweringly at the ten.

"I was sure that Robin Hood would be among them," he said to the man-at-arms at his side. "Could no one of these ten be Robin Hood in disguise?"

"No," answered the man-at-arms. "Six of these I know well. They are the best archers in England. There is Gill o' the Red Cap, Diccon Cruikshank, Adam o' the Dell, William o' Leslie, Hubert o' Cloud, and Swithin o'Hertford. Of the four beside, one is too tall and one too short and one not broad-shouldered enough to be Robin Hood. There remains only this ragged beggar, and his hair and beard are much too dark to be Robin Hood's, and beside, he is blind in one eye. Robin Hood is safe in Sherwood Forest."

Even as he spoke, the man-at-arms was glad, for he was but a common soldier, and he loved Robin Hood and wished no harm to come to him. One reason why Robin Hood got away from the sheriff so many times was that the common people, even among the sheriff's own men, were friendly to him and helped him all they could. The gatekeepers shut their eyes when Robin Hood went through the gates that they might say they had not seen him enter. Hardly any one would betray him, and many, when they knew of evil being planned against him, sent warning to him. But even the man-at-arms who loved him did not recognize Robin Hood today.

The ten made wonderful shots. Not one arrow failed to come within the circles that surrounded the center. But when the three shot, it was more wonderful still. Gill o' the Red Cap's first arrow struck only a finger's breadth from the center, and his second was nearer still. But the beggar's arrow struck in the very center. Adam o' the Dell, who had one more shot, unstrung his bow when he saw it.

"Fourscore years and more have I shot shaft, and beaten many competitors, but I can never better that," he said.

The prize of the golden arrow belonged to the tattered beggar, but the sheriff's face was very sour as he gave it to him. He tried to induce him to enter his service, promising great wages.

"You are the best archer I have ever seen," he said. "I trow you shoot even better than that rascal and coward of a Robin Hood who dared not show his face here today. Will you join my service?"

"No, I will not," answered the scarlet-clad stranger, and then the sheriff looked at him so spitefully that he knew it was well to get away. As he walked toward Sherwood Forest, the sheriff's words rankled.

"I cannot bear to have even my enemy think that I am a coward," he said to Little John. "I wish there was a way to tell the sheriff that it was Robin Hood that won his golden arrow."

And they found a way. That evening the sheriff sat at supper, and though the supper was a fine one, his face was gloomy.

"I thought I could catch that rascal Robin Hood by means of this archery contest," he said to his wife, "but he was too much of a coward to show his face here."

Just then something came through the window and fell rattling among the dishes on the table. It was a blunted gray goose quill with a bit of writing tied to it. The sheriff unfolded the writing. It told that it was Robin Hood who had won the golden arrow. When the sheriff read it, even his wife thought best to slip away, for he was the crossest man in Nottingham.

HOW LITTLE JOHN JOINED ROBIN HOOD

This is the story of how Robin gained his right hand man and dearest friend, Little John. Little John was one of the tallest and strongest youths that ever walked through a forest. When Robin Hood first saw him, he was walking in the edge of the forest and came to a narrow bridge across a stream. The bridge was so narrow that but one could go across it at once, and it chanced that Robin Hood stepped upon it from one side just as Little John stepped on the other end.

"Go back, and let the better man cross before you," called Robin Hood, not because he cared a bit but rather with a mirthful wish to see what the tall youth would do.

"Stand back yourself. I am the better man," cried the stranger.

"Let us fight for it," said Robin Hood, who loved a good bout more than his dinner.

"With all my heart," answered the stranger.

Then Robin cut him a stick of oak to serve as a quarter-staff, for he would have held it a shame to use his bow and arrows when the other had no such weapon, and they met as joyously as two boys wrestling for sport.

"The one who can knock the other into the water is the better man," said Robin. Then the fight with the staves began. What a fight it was! They struck again and again, but so skilful was each one in warding off blows that neither could knock the other down. Many hard blows each one took, until there were sore bones and bumps, and black and blue spots in plenty, but neither thought of stopping for that. A whole hour they fought there on the bridge, and neither could get the better of the other, then another hour. At last Robin gave the stranger a terrible whack that made him stagger, but the stranger returned with a crack on the crown that made the blood flow. Robin whacked back at him savagely, but the stranger avoided the blow and gave one to Robin that tumbled him fairly into the water.

He lay there looking up and laughing, for Robin Hood never bore any malice.

"You have a right sturdy hand with the cudgel. Never have I been beaten before," he laughed. He splashed ashore and seized the stranger's hand.

"I like you well," he said. "Now watch, and I will show you something."

He put his horn to his lips and blew, and up came two score of Robin Hood's followers, all clothed in Lincoln green, and bearing bows and arrows and swords.

"How is this, master?" said the foremost. "You are all bruised and wet to the skin."

"Yon sturdy fellow has given me a drubbing and tumbled me into the water," he said.

"Then he shall get a ducking and a drubbing himself," said Will Stutely, starting forth angrily, followed by half a dozen, all eager to carry out his threat. But Robin Hood ordered him back.

"No," he said, "it was a fair fight, and he won. I would not have you hurt him for anything. But he is a right brave and lusty youth and I would fain have him in our band. Will you join yourself to my men?" he asked of the wondering stranger. "I am Robin Hood, and my band is the finest in all England."

Hardly a man in the country but would have trembled at the name. But John Little, the strange youth, was afraid of no man.

"If there is any man among you who can shoot a better shaft than I, I will," he said.

"Well, I will try," said Robin. He sent Will Stutely to set up a piece of white bark four fingers in breadth on an oak eighty yards away.

"Now choose any of our bows and arrows to shoot with," he said.

The stranger chose the very stoutest bow. Then he aimed his arrow carefully and sent it down the path and it struck the very center of the mark. All Robin Hood's followers caught their breaths in amaze.

"That is a fine shot indeed," said Robin Hood heartily. "No one could better it; but perhaps I may mar it."

Then he shot an arrow; and so true and swift it sped that it struck the stranger's arrow and splintered it into pieces. And all who saw it cried out that there never was such shooting before.

"Now, will you not come into my band?" said Robin Hood with a smile.

"With all my heart," answered the stranger; and from that minute he loved Robin as his dearest friend.

"What is your name?" said Will Stutely, taking out a tablet as though he would enroll it.

"John Little," answered the stranger youth.

"I like not the name," said merry Will. "This fellow is too small to be called John Little. Let us christen him over, Little John."

And so they had a christening and great sport; and from that day Little John was Robin's right hand man and second in command over the band. True and faithfully did he serve Robin for many years and loved him better with every year.

ALLEN-A-DALE AND FRIAR TUCK

This is the story of a merry friar and how he came to belong to Robin Hood's band. But it begins with the story of a sad youth with a harp in his hand, who could sing as sweetly as a thrush but who thought that he would never sing again for his heart was breaking. Robin Hood and his men found him in the forest, lying prone on the ground and sobbing as if he would weep his eyes out.

"Get up! Get up!" shouted Will Stutely, poking him with his foot. "I do hate to see a tall young fellow snivelling like a girl of fourteen over a dead bird."

But Robin Hood bade the others stand back, and touched the boy kindly.

"You are in trouble," he said. "Do not mind what these fellows say. They are rough, but their hearts are kind. Come with me and tell me what is wrong."

"Everything is wrong," said Allen-a-Dale miserably, and it was true that things were going very badly with him. For his true love and promised bride had been forced to give him up and promise her hand to a rich old knight who won her father's favor by means of his money.

"She will marry the old knight if her father bids her," cried Allen-a-Dale, "for she thinks it right to be an obedient daughter; but I know it will break her heart and she will die."

"Now this thing shall not be," cried Little John, starting forward. "Master, can we not prevent such a wrong?"

"We will see," answered Robin Hood.

"But she is to be married in two days."

"Then we will go to the church and see that she is married to you instead of the old knight. But we will need to find a priest who will marry you."

"Then I know the very priest," said Will Scarlet. "It is jolly Friar Tuck who lives in Fountain Dale."

"Then let us go and get him at once. We have no time to lose," said Robin Hood; and out they started without delay. Little John, Will Scarlet, young David of Doncaster, and Arthur-a-Bland went with him. They wore their best clothes.

"For," said Robin Hood, "we must look brave when we go to a wedding."

After they had walked a whole morning, they came to the bend in the river beyond which Friar Tuck dwelt. But his cell was across the river and to get to it they would have to wade through.

"Well," said Robin Hood, "had I known I would have to wade the river I would not have put on my best clothes."

Then he left his men, bidding them listen if his bugle should sound, and went on alone. As soon as he was out of sight of them, he thought he heard voices. There seemed to be two men talking on the river bank below, but the voices were wondrously alike. Robin Hood slipped to the edge and looked over.

With his broad back against a willow tree, sat a stout, brawny fellow in the robe of a friar, but no other man was by. He held a great pie in his lap, made of tender, juicy meats, compounded with young onions and other toothsome vegetables, which he munched at sturdily. As he ate he talked, and, listening to him, Robin Hood almost died of laughing. For the merry friar was pretending to be two people. He would offer a piece of the pasty first to his right hand and then to his left, with much politeness, and go through the same actions with a bottle of drink that he had. Robin looked and listened till the pie was all gone and the bottle empty. Then the monk began to urge his imaginary companion to sing.

"Now, sweet lad," he said to himself, "canst thou not tune me a song?" And then he answered himself bashfully.

"La, I know not. I am but in ill voice this day. Prythee, ask me not: dost thou not hear how I croak like a frog?"

Then he spoke again as the first one.

"Nay, nay, thy voice is as sweet as any bullfinch. Come sing, prythee. I would rather hear thee sing than eat a fair feast."

And so it went on till he began singing and that was as two persons, too. The song he sang was a duet between a youth and a maid, and he sung the maiden's part very high and squeaky and the youth's very deep and gruff. It was the funniest thing you can imagine, and when the last chorus was reached Robin Hood could hold in no more but joined in with the singing lustily.

Then the friar leaped forth, crying, "What spy have we here?" and from beneath his monk's robe he drew forth a sword as heavy and stout as any that Robin Hood's band carried.

"Put up thy sword, friend," called Robin. "Folks that have sung together should not fight." And then he leaped down beside the friar.

"Do you know the country round about, good and holy man?" he asked.

"Yes, somewhat," answered the friar cautiously.

"And do you know a spot called Fountain Dale, and a certain monk who is called the Curtal Friar of Fountain Abbey?"

"Yes, somewhat."

"Is it across the river?" asked Robin Hood.

"Yes," answered the monk.

"Do you know whether this friar is now on the other side of the river or on this side?" asked Robin.

"That," answered the friar very deliberately, "is something you will have to find out for yourself."

This angered Robin, and indeed it was not at all civil.

"Well," he said, "if I must cross the river, I must ask you to carry me across, for you can see that my clothes are such as the water would injure."

At first the friar was angry at the request, but soon a different thought seemed to come to him and he laughed.

"Well," he said, "if the holy St. Christopher carried pilgrims across the river, perhaps I ought to do so also. Give me your sword that it may not get wet, and I will carry you."

So he tucked his own sword and Robin's under his arm, bent his back for Robin to get on it, and waded across the water. He put Robin down very gently on the other bank, but he did not give him back his sword.

"Thanks, good father," said Robin. "Give me my sword, and I will away."

"Nay, good youth," answered the friar, pointing the sword at Robin. "You see, I got wet crossing the river. It is necessary for me to cross again, but I fear if I got wet once more I might get a crick in my back that would hinder my prayers. I pray thee, carry me back."