The Adventures of Robin Hood

by Roger Green

  At earliest dawn next morning Robin set out with a band picked from the youngest and strongest of his followers, every man armed with a good broad sword and carrying a long yew bow. All of them, however, wore cloaks or other wraps which hid their Lincoln green.

  At the edge of the forest Robin bade them wait, sending one man forward to bring back news. Before long he returned in company with an old man, a palmer or pilgrim who had visited the Holy Land, muffled in the long cloak and hood which all such wanderers wore.

  ‘Now tell me, good palmer,’ said Robin Hood courteously, ‘do you know when and where Will Scathlock or Scarlet is to die?’

  ‘Aye, that I do, the more’s the pity,’ answered the old man. ‘They brought him in last night – said he was one of Robin Hood’s men – him you know as were the Earl of Huntingdon and helped all poor men. Well, they’ll hang Scathlock at noon on the green before the Castle: where the May-dances should be – only today they rear no Maypole, but a gallows.’

  Rumour of the hanging had gone through Nottingham, and there was a great crowd on the green when, punctually at noon, the Castle gates opened and out marched the Sheriff at the head of several dozen men at arms.

  Foremost in the crowd round the gallows was an old palmer muffled in a long cloak and hood, and leaning on a bow in place of a staff.

  ‘Eh!’ he exclaimed in a shrill, high voice. ‘Here be a fine guard for one man! Do the Sheriff expect scuffing, eh? A rescue, eh?’

  ‘There’s many here would swing a cudgel or ply a quarterstaff,’ said his neighbour, a yeoman farmer by his looks, ‘if Robin Hood were only here to give a lead. Lord, we all know Will Scathlock, the Earl’s man – and many a one knew him as Will Scarlet who came secretly with food and money for the poor and oppressed. Why he –’

  ‘Hush! Hush!’ hissed one or two in the crowd. ‘He’s speaking! Will’s speaking!’ The Sheriff had said something to Scarlet in a low voice, but the reply came in ringing tones:

  ‘My name is Scathlock – and not Worman! I am no grasping villain who would betray a good and generous master for any bribe that you could offer me – no, not for my life. Robin Hood is in Sherwood Forest – you must seek him there if you would have word with him.’

  ‘Rest assured we shall seek him!’ growled the Sheriff, red with anger. ‘And when we find him, burn out his eyes so that he must grope his way from Locksley to Nottingham to hang beside your rotting bones!’

  There were murmurs from the crowd at this, and the Sheriff hastened on to the business in hand:

  ‘William Scathlock or Scarlet, outlaw and traitor, the law decrees that you shall here and now be hanged by the neck, and thereafter be left hanging here as a warning to all men.’

  Scarlet looked down at the crowd, and seeing no sign of rescue turned to the Sheriff. ‘My lord Sheriff,’ he said quietly, ‘seeing that I needs must die and there is no help for it, I beg one last boon of you.’

  ‘Speak on,’ said the Sheriff. ‘It is your right.’

  ‘My noble master the Earl of Huntingdon, whom men call Robin Hood,’ said Scarlet, ‘had never yet one of his servants die by the dishonourable death of hanging. So now I pray you to unbind me, set a sword in my hand, and with you and all your men will I fight until you slay me.’

  ‘Not so,’ answered the Sheriff, ‘this I cannot grant.’

  ‘At least,’ said Scarlet, ‘unbind my hands and bid your men slay with their swords, though I myself am weaponless.’

  ‘It cannot be,’ declared the Sheriff. ‘I have sworn to hang you – and even so will I hang your master, and all who follow him.’

  ‘That will never be!’ cried Scarlet. ‘You dastard coward! You faint-hearted peasant slave! If ever my master shall meet with you, be sure he will pay you in full! He scorns such dastards as you, and all your coward followers: you and your paid murderers can never overcome bold Robin Hood!’

  ‘Enough of this!’ shouted the Sheriff impatiently. ‘Where is the hangman? Let him do his duty without delay!’

  There was a delay, nevertheless, for the hangman could not be found, and it was at last reported to the Sheriff that he lay dead-drunk in his room, having found an old friend the night before, and caroused with him until sunrise.

  The Sheriff was in a great rage, particularly when he commanded first one and then another of his followers to act as hangman, and each in turn politely but firmly refused.

  At last the Sheriff turned to the crowd: ‘Will any one here perform this office of justice?’ he demanded. ‘He who undertakes it shall have a double fee.’

  But the crowd only muttered and growled angrily, and the Sheriff was about to bid his men draw their swords and cut Will Scarlet down with them, since there seemed no chance of hanging him, when the old palmer suddenly stepped forward.

  ‘Good Master Sheriff!’ he cried in his shrill cracked voice, ‘I have a grudge against Will Scarlet! Let me have the task of sending him to heaven!’

  ‘Oh, the old devil!’ murmured several men in the crowd, and others showed signs of holding the palmer back.

  ‘Come on, then,’ ordered the Sheriff. ‘Stand clear, everyone! Proceed, old man!’

  The palmer came shuffling forward, while the crowd heaved and swayed behind him, cursing and muttering – and drawing closer and closer to the gallows.

  Now Scarlet had been brought out on a low cart and left right under the gallows: all that the hangman had to do was to set the noose round his victim’s neck, then get down and pull the cart away from beneath him.

  Slowly and painfully the palmer scrambled on to the cart, while the curses and threats grew louder round about him, and even a clod or two of earth was hurled in his direction.

  He fumbled with the rope which secured Scarlet’s hands behind his back, then made as if to fit the noose over his head – whispering something to the prisoner as he did so.

  Suddenly the palmer handed something from under his cloak to Will Scarlet, who dropped the rope which had bound his hands and stepped forward with a drawn sword held in front of him.

  ‘Treachery! Help!’ shouted the Sheriff. ‘Down with the villain!’

  But before any one could stir, Robin Hood had flung off the palmer’s cloak, fitted an arrow to his bow, and shouted:

  ‘Men of Sherwood! Freemen of England! Save this innocent man from death!’

  ‘Robin Hood!’ shouted the people.

  ‘It is the outlawed Earl of Huntingdon!’ cried the Sheriff. ‘There is a great reward for anyone who takes him! Down with him!’

  As he spoke the string hummed on Robin’s bow, and it was the Sheriff himself who came down, amidst a yell of laughter as the arrow appeared transfixing his hat.

  ‘The next arrow I shoot at you, Master Sheriff,’ said Robin gravely, ‘will be aimed two inches lower!’

  ‘Seize him!’ gasped the Sheriff, and his men sprang forward. But as they did so, the Lincoln green appeared as if by magic among the crowd, as man after man flung off their various disguises, unslung their bows or drew their swords, and ranged themselves round Robin and Scarlet.

  The men at arms hesitated, and at a sign from Robin a flight of arrows sped amongst them, wounding not a few. Then they turned and fled, the Sheriff setting a good example for speed in escape.

  ‘Now stay a while, good Master Sheriff!’ jeered Scarlet. ‘Let me at least thank you for my night’s lodging. Stay, for now I will tell you where you may find Robin Hood – whom you will never catch by running in the wrong direction!’

  ‘Let them go!’ laughed Robin. ‘I’ll warrant we shall meet again, though… Now, my friends, let us pass in peace back to the Forest. We mean no harm to any here save those who would harm us. And if any is to suffer unjustly, come one of you without fear into Sherwood and there ask for Robin Hood!’

  ‘God bless Robin Hood! Robin Hood for ever!’ shouted the crowd as they made way for the band of outlaws.

  ‘I thank you, my dear master and friend,’ said Scarlet as they went along. ‘I did not th
ink to see you here – nor that ever again I should tread the merry greenwood with you and our fellows and hear again the sweet music of the bowstrings and the woodman’s horn.’

  5

  How Little John Came to the Greenwood

  You gentlemen and yeomen good,

  Come in and drink with Robin Hood;

  If Robin Hood be not at home,

  Come in and drink with Little John.

  ANON.: Old Rhyme

  After Robin Hood had rescued Will Scarlet from the Sheriff of Nottingham, he remained quietly in Sherwood Forest for some time, building huts in several of the most secret and hidden clearings, drilling his followers and teaching those who were new to it all the secrets of woodlore.

  Many came to swell his band, outlaws, poor men who were suffering under cruel masters, and even a yeoman or two and several who had been forced into the service of the Sheriff or of various of the Norman knights and barons of the district.

  The Great North Road passed through the Forest at that time, and surprise attacks supplied them with all they needed in the way of Lincoln green cloth and arrows – or the money with which to buy these.

  When order and comfort had been brought to this new commonwealth of the greenwood, and precautions taken against surprise by the Sheriff or any of the neighbouring knights such as Sir Guy of Gisborne and their followers, Robin began to go further afield. He knew that it would be well to have several places of refuge should Prince John send a large force to drive him out of Sherwood, and in time he and his men were able to disappear from the Nottingham district, and were often to be found in Barnsdale, Yorkshire, or Plompton in Cumberland: on occasion they were known even to visit Pendle Forest in Lancashire and Delamere Forest in Cheshire.

  Much of their time was taken up in archery at which all became very proficient, though none could ever shoot so far or so true as Robin himself, and in fencing with swords, or playing at quarter-staff. But there was time for hunting as well, since venison was the most usual food, varied with pork from the wild boars, hares, and various wild fowl.

  Many a time Robin would grow weary of the general course of every day and wander off by himself, leaving Will Scarlet in command. Often he returned from these expeditions with news of a party of wealthy travellers to be waylaid and robbed, or of some new injustice or cruelty practised against a Saxon yeoman or Saxon serfs. Sometimes he returned with a new member for his band of outlaws – and the most noteworthy of these chance meetings won for him the truest and most faithful of all his friends.

  It was late in their first summer in Sherwood, and on a sudden Robin grew restless.

  ‘Stay you all here, my merry fellows,’ he said early one morning. ‘But come and come swiftly if you hear the blast on my horn that you all know as my special call. We have had no sport these fourteen days and more: no adventure has befallen us – so I will go forth and seek for one. But if I should find myself in difficulties, with no escape, then will I blow my horn.’

  Then he bade farewell to Scarlet and the rest, and set off blithely through the greenwood, his bow ready in his hand, his eyes and ears alert for anything of danger or of interest.

  About noon he came along a forest path to a wide, swiftly flowing stream which was crossed by a narrow bridge made of a single tree-trunk flattened on the top. As he approached it, he saw a tall yeoman hastening towards him beyond the stream.

  ‘We cannot both cross at once, the bridge is too narrow,’ thought Robin, and he quickened his pace meaning to be first over.

  But the tall yeoman quickened his pace also, with the result that they each set foot on the opposite ends of the bridge at the same moment.

  ‘Out of my way, little man!’ shouted the stranger, who was a good foot taller than Robin. ‘That is, unless you want a ducking in the stream!’

  ‘Not so fast, not so fast, tall fellow,’ answered Robin. ‘Go you back until I have passed – or may be I will do the ducking!’

  ‘Why then,’ cried the stranger, waving his staff, ‘I’ll break your head first, and tip you into the water afterwards!’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ said Robin, and taking an arrow well feathered from the wing of a goose, he fitted it to the string.

  ‘Draw that bow-string ever so little!’ shouted the stranger, ‘and I’ll first tan your hide with this good staff of mine, and then soak you well in the stream!’

  ‘You talk like a plain ass!’ exclaimed Robin scornfully, ‘for were I to bend my bow I could send an arrow quite through your proud heart before you could touch me with your staff.’

  ‘If I talk like an ass,’ answered the stranger, ‘you talk like a coward. You stand there well armed with a good long bow, while I have only a staff and am well out of your reach.’

  ‘I scorn the name of coward,’ cried Robin, slipping the arrow back into his quiver and unstringing his bow. ‘Therefore will I lay aside my weapons and try your manhood with a quarter-staff such as your own – if you will but wait there until I cut one in the thicket.’

  ‘Here I bide,’ said the stranger cheerfully, ‘one foot on the bridge – until you are ready for your cold bath in the stream!’

  Robin Hood stepped aside to a thicket of trees and chose himself a stout six-foot staff of ground oak, straight and true and strong. Then he returned to the bridge, lopping and trimming his weapon as he came. He flung his bow and quiver on the bank, with his hood and his horn beside them, and set foot again on the bridge, crying merrily:

  ‘Lo what a lusty staff I have, and a tough one at that – the very thing for knocking insolent rogues into the water! Let us fight here on the bridge, so that if one of us goes into the water, there will be no doubt who has won, and the victor may go on his way without a wetting.’

  ‘With all my heart,’ said the stranger. ‘I scorn to give way… Have at your head!’ So saying, he grasped his staff one quarter of the way from the end, held his other hand ready to grasp it by the middle when using it as a shield, and advanced along the narrow bridge.

  Robin came to meet him, flourishing his weapon round his head, and by a quick feint got the end in under his adversary’s guard and made his ribs ring with the blow.

  ‘This must be repaid!’ cried the stranger. ‘Be sure I’ll give you as good as I get for so long as I am able to handle a staff – and I scorn to die in your debt when a good crack will pay what I owe!’

  Then they went at it with mighty blows, rather as if threshing corn with flails. Presently the sharp rattle and clatter of wood upon wood was broken by a duller crack as the stranger struck Robin on the head, causing the blood to appear; and after that they lashed at each other all the more fiercely, Robin beating down the guard and getting in with blow after blow on shoulders and sides until the dust flew from the stranger’s jerkin like smoke.

  But on a sudden, with a great cry of rage the stranger whirled up his staff and smote so mightily and with such fury that even Robin could not withstand it, but tumbled head over heels into the stream and disappeared from sight.

  ‘Good fellow, good fellow, where are you now?’ shouted the stranger kneeling on the bridge and gazing anxiously down into the water.

  ‘Here I am!’ shouted Robin gaily as he pulled himself out by an overhanging hawthron, ‘just floating down the stream – and washing my bruised head as I go! I must acknowledge myself beaten: you’re a fine fellow, and a good hitter – and as the day is yours, let there be no more battle between us.’

  With that Robin picked up his horn and sounded a shrill blast on it. Then turning to the stranger he said:

  ‘Whither were you hastening in the greenwood? I trust that you can spare time from your business to dine with me? Indeed I insist upon it – and must use force, if persuasion will not bring you!’

  ‘To tell you truth,’ answered the stranger, ‘I was in search of a man they call Robin Hood –’

  Before Robin could answer there was a crashing in the thicket and out bounded Will Scarlet, followed by many another of his men, mak
ing a bold show in their well-fitting doublets and hose of Lincoln green.

  ‘Good master!’ cried Scarlet, ‘what has befallen you that you blew the call for us? You are bleeding – and wet to the skin!’

  ‘Nothing has befallen me,’ answered Robin, ‘save that this fine fellow here has just tumbled me into the stream with that long staff of his!’

  ‘By the Rood,’ exclaimed Scarlet, ‘he cannot go scot free after so insulting bold Robin Hood. Come on, my merry men, let us give him a turn of the cold water.’

  ‘No, no!’ laughed Robin. ‘He’s a stout fellow, and tumbled me over in fair fight – so let him be. Come now, my friend,’ he added, turning to the stranger, ‘these bowmen will give you no cause for fear – they are all my friends. And they shall be your friends too, if you’ll set your hand in mine and swear loyalty to Robin Hood and his companions. Speak up, jolly blade, and never fear – and we’ll soon have you as fine a shot with the long bow as you are a player with the stout quarter-staff!’

  ‘Why, here is my hand,’ cried the stranger, ‘and my heart goes with it, honest Robin. My name is John Little, and you need not fear that I will bring any shame upon you and your merry men: I am skilled in the arts of war and of the chase, and will follow you loyally wheresoever you may lead.’

  ‘I still think you need a ducking!’ said Scarlet, later that day as they all sat round a fire before which two plump does were roasting. ‘But a good sprinkling with brown ale will at least do you no harm. It is our custom here in the greenwood to give every man who joins us a new name. What say you, my friends, shall we not make this into a christening feast for our new friend, and bestow a greenwood name upon him?’

  ‘Well said, good Scarlet!’ cried the outlaws, gathering round in a ring of laughing faces. ‘And Robin shall be his godfather!’

  ‘Agreed!’ smiled Robin. ‘Now to your work, good Parson Scarlet!’

  ‘Why then,’ cried Scarlet, filling a gigantic mug with foaming ale, ‘attend all of you! This child, this babe brought here for christening, was called John Little. But seeing that he is so small, so puny a babe – being indeed no more than seven foot high, and a mere ell or so about the waist (what say you, child, a mere yard and no yard and a quarter? – well, well, a year of venison and strong ale will make you two yards about!) – As I was saying, seeing that the child is so under size –’