But although Robin laughed, he knew the wayfarer to be a certain rich corn engrosser of Worksop, who more than once had bought all the grain in the countryside and held it till it reached even famine prices, thus making much money from the needs of poor people, and for this he was hated far and near by every one that knew aught of him.
He seeth a strange man come a-riding.
Quoth Robin to himself, when he saw who it was that came, “Oho, my thieving magpie! It is thou, is it? Now I would that I could pluck thee bare, even to the naked skin! But thou art so sly that I misdoubt finding aught of thy ill-gotten gains upon thee so nigh to Sherwood. Nevertheless, I will see what can be done; for, as Gaffer Swanthold says, ‘If Ned never tries, Ned never does.’ ”
So, after a while, the Corn Engrosser came riding up to where Robin sat; whereupon merry Robin stepped straightway forth, in all his rags and tatters, his bags and pouches dangling about him, and laid his hand upon the horse’s bridle-rein, calling upon the other to stop.
Robin Hood stops the Corn Engrosser and beggeth a farthing of him.
“Who art thou, fellow, that doth dare to stop me thus upon the King’s highway?” said the lean man, in a dry, sour voice.
“Pity a poor beggar,” quoth Robin. “Give me but a farthing to buy me a piece of bread.”
“Now, out upon thee!” snarled the other. “Such sturdy rogues as thou art are better safe in the prisons or dancing upon nothing, with a hempen collar about the neck, than strolling the highways so freely.”
“Tut,” quoth Robin, “how thou talkest! Thou and I are brothers, man. Do we not both take from the poor people that which they can ill spare? Do we not make our livings by doing nought of any good? Do we not both live without touching palm to honest work? Have we either of us ever rubbed thumbs over honestly-gained farthings? Go to! We are brothers, I say; only thou art rich and I am poor; wherefore, I prythee once more, give me a penny.”
“Dost thou prate so to me, sirrah?” cried the Corn Engrosser, in a rage. “Now I will have thee soundly whipped if ever I catch thee in any town where the law can lay hold of thee! As for giving thee a penny, I swear to thee that I have not so much as a single groat in my purse. Were Robin Hood himself to take me, he might search me from crown to heel without finding the smallest piece of money upon me. I trust I am too sly to travel so nigh to Sherwood with money in my pouch, and that thief at large in the woods.”
Then merry Robin looked up and down, as if to see that there was no one nigh, and then, coming close to the Corn Engrosser, he stood on tiptoe and spake in his ear: “Thinkest thou in sooth that I am a beggar, as I seem to be? Look upon me. There is not a grain of dirt upon my hands or my face or my body; didst thou ever see a beggar so? I tell thee I am as honest a man as thou art. Look, friend.” Here he took the purse of money from his breast, and showed to the dazzled eyes of the Corn Engrosser the bright golden pieces. “Friend, these rags serve but to hide an honest rich man from the eyes of Robin Hood.”
Robin Hood showeth strange things to the Corn Engrosser.
“Put up thy money, lad,” cried the other, quickly. “Art thou a fool, to trust to beggar’s rags to shield thee from Robin Hood? If he caught thee he would strip thee to the skin, for he hates a lusty beggar as he doth a fat priest or those of my kind.”
“Is it indeed so?” quoth Robin. “Had I known this, mayhap I had not come hereabouts in this garb. But I must go forward now, as much depends upon my journeying. Where goest thou, friend?”
“I go to Grantham,” said the Corn Engrosser; “but I shall lodge to-night at Newark; if I can get so far upon my way.”
“Why, I myself am on the way to Newark,” quoth merry Robin; “so that, as two honest men are better than one in roads beset by such a fellow as this Robin Hood, I will jog along with thee, if thou hast no dislike to my company.”
“Why, as thou art an honest fellow and a rich fellow,” said the Corn Engrosser, “I mind not thy company; but, in sooth, I have no great fondness for beggars.”
“Then forward,” quoth Robin, “for the day wanes and it will be dark ere we reach Newark.” So off they went, the lean horse hobbling along as before, and Robin running beside, albeit he was so quaking with laughter within him that he could hardly stand; yet he dared not laugh aloud, lest the Corn Engrosser should suspect something. So they travelled along till they reached a hill just on the outskirts of Sherwood. Here the lean man checked his lean horse into a walk, for the road was steep, and he wished to save his nag’s strength, having far to go ere he reached Newark. Then he turned in his saddle and spake to Robin again, for the first time since they had left the cross. “Here is thy greatest danger, friend,” said he, “for here we are nighest to that vile thief, Robin Hood, and the place where he dwells. Beyond this we come again to the open honest country, and so are more safe in our journeying.”
Robin Hood and the Corn Engrosser travel along together.
“Alas!” quoth Robin, “I would that I had as little money by me as thou hast, for this day I fear that Robin Hood will get every groat of my wealth.”
Then the other looked at Robin and winked cunningly. Quoth he, “I tell thee, friend, that I have nigh as much by me as thou hast, but it is hidden so that never a knave in Sherwood could find it.”
“Thou dost surely jest,” quoth Robin. “How could one hide so much as two hundred pounds upon his person?”
“Now, as thou art so honest a fellow, and, withal, so much younger than I am, I will tell thee that which I have told to no man in all the world before, and thus thou mayst learn never again to do such a foolish thing as to trust to beggar’s garb to guard thee against Robin Hood. Seest thou these clogs upon my feet?”
“Yea,” quoth Robin, laughing; “truly, they are large enough for any man to see, even were his sight as foggy as that of Peter Patter, who never could see when it was time to go to work.”
The Corn Engrosser telleth Robin Hood a great secret.
“Peace, friend,” said the Corn Engrosser, “for this is no matter for jesting. The soles of these clogs are not what they seem to be, for each one is a sweet little box; and by twisting the second nail from the toe, the upper of the shoe and part of the sole lifts up like a lid, and in the spaces within are fourscore and ten bright golden pounds in each shoe, all wrapped in hair, to keep them from clinking and so telling tales of themselves.”
When the Corn Engrosser had told this, Robin broke into a roar of laughter, and, laying his hands upon the bridle-rein, stopped the sad-looking nag. “Stay, good friend,” quoth he, between bursts of merriment; “thou art the slyest old fox that e’er I saw in all my life!—In the soles of his shoon, quotha!—If ever I trust a poor seeming man again, shave my head and paint it blue! A corn factor, a horse jockey, an estate agent, and a jackdaw for cunningness, say I!” And he laughed again till he shook in his shoes with mirth.
All this time the Corn Engrosser had been staring at Robin, his mouth agape with wonder. “Art thou mad,” quoth he, “to talk in this way, so loud and in such a place? Let us forward, and save thy mirth till we are safe and sound at Newark.”
“Nay,” quoth Robin, the tears of merriment wet on his cheeks, “on second thoughts I go no farther than here, for I have good friends hereabouts. Thou mayst go forward if thou dost list, thou sweet pretty fellow, but thou must go forward barefoot, for I am afraid that thy shoon must be left behind. Off with them, friend, for I tell thee I have taken a great fancy to them.”
At these words the corn factor grew pale as a linen napkin. “Who art thou that talkest so?” said he.
Then merry Robin laughed again, and quoth he, “Men hereabouts call me Robin Hood; so, sweet friend, thou hadst best do my bidding and give me thy shoes, wherefore hasten, I prythee, or else thou wilt not get to fair Newark Town till after dark.”
At the sound of the name of Robin Hood the corn factor quaked with fear, so that he had to seize his horse by the mane to save himself from falling off its back. Then straightway, a
nd without more words, he stripped off his clogs and let them fall upon the road. Robin, still holding the bridle-rein, stooped and picked them up; then he said, “Sweet friend, I am used to ask those that I have dealings with to come and feast at Sherwood with me. I will not ask thee, because of our pleasant journey together; for I tell thee there be those in Sherwood that would not be so gentle with thee as I have been. The name of Corn Engrosser leaves a nasty taste upon the tongue of all honest men. Take a fool’s advice of me and come no more so nigh to Sherwood, or mayhap some day thou mayst of a sudden find a clothyard shaft betwixt thy ribs. So, with this, I give thee good den.“ Hereupon he clapped his hand to the horse’s flank and off went nag and rider. But the man’s face was all bedewed with the sweat of fright, and never again, I wot, was he found so close to Sherwood Forest as he had been this day.
Robin Hood goeth no farther, and the Corn Engrosser travelleth onward barefoot.
Robin stood and looked after him, and, when he was fairly gone, turned, laughing, and entered the forest carrying the shoes in his hand.
That night in sweet Sherwood the red fires glowed brightly in wavering light on tree and bush, and all around sat or lay the stout fellows of the band to hear Robin Hood and Little John tell their adventures. First Little John began and told about his meeting with the three lasses, amid great shouts of laughter, for he was quaint of speech, and told his doings merrily. Then Robin told of his meeting the stout beggar, and what befell behind the hedge under the lime tree.
Robin Hood and Little John tell of their merry adventures to those in Sherwood.
Then Little John told of meeting the good fellows at the inn, and Robin told of his adventure with the four beggars, and showed the money he had taken from them. Last of all, Little John told how he had prayed to Saint Dunstan with the Gray Friars, and showed the gold that the Saint had sent him. This Robin matched with his story of meeting the Corn Engrosser at the cross near Ollerton, and held up the shoes that he had taken from the lean man. All listened closely, and again and again the woods rang with shouts of laughter.
When all was told, Friar Tuck spoke up, “Good master,” said he, “thou hast had a pretty time, but still I hold to my saying, that the life of the barefoot friar is the merrier of the two.”
Friar Tuck and Will Stutely are of different minds.
“Nay,” quoth Will Stutely, “I hold with our master, that he hath had the pleasanter doings of the two, for he hath had two stout bouts at quarterstaff this day.”
So some of the band held with Robin Hood and some with Little John. As for me, I think—But I leave it with you to say for yourselves which you hold with.
After you have settled the matter in your minds, we will see how merry Robin went to famous London Town, and how he shot with the long bow before Queen Eleanor; likewise we will hear of the adventures that befell him thereafter; so listen to what follows.
PART SEVENTH.
In which it is told how Queen Eleanor sent for Robin Hood to come to the Court at famous London Town, and how Robin Hood came at her bidding. Likewise, it is told how King Henry chased Robin through the land, yet caught him not.
I.
Robin and Three of his Merry Men shoot before Queen Eleanor in Finsbury Fields.
THE high-road stretched white and dusty in the hot summer afternoon sun, and the trees stood motionless along the roadside. All across the meadow lands the hot air danced and quivered, and in the limpid waters of the lowland brook, spanned by a little stone bridge, the fish hung motionless above the yellow gravel, and the dragon-fly sat quite still, perched upon the sharp tip of a spike of the rushes, with its wings glistening in the sun.
Richard Partington cometh to Sherwood upon the bidding of Queen Eleanor.
Along the road a youth came riding upon a fair milk-white barb, and the folk that he passed stopped and turned and looked after him, for never had so lovely a lad or one so gayly clad been seen in Nottingham before. He could not have been more than sixteen years of age, and was as fair as any maiden. His long yellow hair flowed behind him as he rode along, all clad in silk and velvet, with jewels flashing and dagger jingling against the pommel of the saddle. Thus came the Queen’s Page, young Richard Partington, from famous London Town down into Nottinghamshire, upon her majesty’s bidding, to seek Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest.
Richard Partington stops at the Blue Boar Inn.
The road was hot and dusty and his journey had been long, for that day he had come all the way from Leicester Town, a good twenty miles and more; wherefore young Partington was right glad when he saw before him a sweet little inn, all shady and cool beneath the trees, in front of the door of which a sign hung pendant, bearing the picture of a Blue Boar. Here he drew rein and called loudly for a pottle of Rhenish wine to be brought him, for stout country ale was too coarse a drink for this young gentleman. Five lusty fellows sat upon the bench beneath the pleasant shade of the wide-spreading oak in front of the inn door, drinking ale and beer, and all stared amain at this fair and gallant lad. Two of the stoutest of them were clothed in Lincoln green, and a great heavy oaken staff leaned against the gnarled oak tree trunk beside each fellow.
The landlord came and brought a pottle of wine and a long narrow glass upon a salver, which he held up to the Page as he sat upon his horse. Young Partington poured forth the bright yellow wine, and holding the glass aloft, cried, “Here is to the health and long happiness of my royal mistress the noble Queen Eleanor; and may my journey and her desirings soon have end, and I find a certain stout yeoman men call Robin Hood.”
The Page is spoken to by two yeomen in Lincoln green.
At these words all stared, but presently the two stout yeomen in Lincoln green began whispering together. Then one of the two, whom Partington thought to be the tallest and stoutest fellow he had ever beheld, spoke up and said, “What seekest thou of Robin Hood, Sir Page? and what does our good Queen Eleanor wish of him? I ask this of thee, not foolishly, but with reason, for I know somewhat of this stout yeoman.”
“An thou knowest aught of him, good fellow,” said young Partington, “thou wilt do great service to him and great pleasure to our royal Queen by aiding me to find him.”
Then up spake the other yeoman, who was a handsome fellow with sunburnt face and nut-brown, curling hair, “Thou hast an honest look, Sir Page, and our Queen is kind and true to all stout yeomen. Methinks I and my friend here might safely guide thee to Robin Hood, for we know where he may be found. Yet I tell thee plainly, we would not for all merry England have aught of harm befall him.”
“Set thy mind at ease; I bring nought of ill with me,” quoth Richard Partington. “I bring a kind message to him from our Queen; therefore an ye know where he is to be found, I pray you to guide me thither.”
The two yeomen guide young Richard Partington to Sherwood Forest and to Robin Hood.
Then the two yeomen looked at one another again, and the tall man said, “Surely it were safe to do this thing, Will;” whereat the other nodded. Thereupon both arose, and the tall yeoman said, “We think thou art true, Sir Page, and meanest no harm, therefore we will guide thee to Robin Hood as thou dost wish.”
The Partington paid his score, and the yeomen coming forward, they straightway departed upon their way.
The Queen’s Page cometh before Robin Hood and telleth her majesty’s bidding.
Under the greenwood tree, in the cool shade that spread all around upon the sward, with flickering lights here and there, Robin Hood and many of his band lay upon the soft green grass, whilst Allan a Dale sang and played upon his sweetly-sounding harp. All listened in silence, for young Allan’s singing was one of the greatest joys in all the world to them; but as they so listened there came of a sudden a sound of horse’s feet, and presently Little John and Will Stutely came forth from the forest path into the open glade, young Richard Partington riding between them upon his milk-white horse. The three came toward where Robin Hood sat, all the band staring with might and main, for never had
they seen so gay a sight as this young Page, nor one so richly clad in silks and velvets and gold and jewels. Then Robin Hood arose and stepped forth to meet him, and Partington leaped from his horse, and doffing his cap of crimson velvet, met Robin as he came.
“Now, welcome!” cried Robin. “Now, welcome, fair youth; and tell me, I prythee, what bringeth one of so fair a presence and clad in such noble garb to our poor forest of Sherwood?”
Then young Partington said: “If I err not, thou art the famous Robin Hood, and these thy stout band of outlawed yeomen. To thee I bring greeting from our noble Queen Eleanor. Oft hath she heard thee spoken of and thy merry doings hereabouts, and fain would she behold thy face; therefore she bids me tell thee that if thou wilt presently come to London Town, she will do all in her power to guard thee against harm, and will send thee back safe to Sherwood Forest again. Four days hence, in Finsbury Fields, our good King Henry, of great renown, holdeth a grand shooting match, and all the most famous archers of merry England will be thereat. Our Queen would fain see thee strive with these, knowing that if thou wilt come thou wilt, with little doubt, carry off the prize. Therefore she hath sent me with this greeting, and furthermore sends thee, as a sign of great good will, this golden ring from off her own fair thumb, which I give herewith into thy hands.”
Then Robin Hood bowed his head, and taking the ring kissed it right loyally, and then slipped it upon his little finger. Quoth he, “Sooner would I lose my life than this ring; and ere it departs from me, my hand shall be cold in death or stricken off at the wrist. Fair Sir Page, I will do our Queen’s bidding, and will presently hie with thee to London; but, ere we go, I will feast thee here in the woodlands with the very best we have.”