by Roger Green
‘I accept them gladly,’ said Robin. ‘As you say, we may need them soon… But come now, noon is not so long past but that a good stoop of wine would come amiss. And tonight we will feast you right royally…’
10
The Silver Arrow
I’ll send this arrow from my bow,
And in a wager will be bound
To hit the mark aright, although
It were for fifteen hundred pound.
Doubt not I’ll make the wager good,
Or ne’er believe bold Robin Hood.
ANON.: Robin Hood’s Garland (c. 1723)
Sir Richard of Legh was right when he warned Robin Hood that the Abbot of St Mary’s was not a man to forgive or forget such injuries and disappointments as he had suffered. But there was no sign of any warlike expedition either against Robin in Sherwood or against Sir Richard in his Cheshire home.
News came to Robin, however, not so very long after that Prince John, who was at that time travelling about the country with a large court of his especial followers, was holding a great archery contest in Cheshire. He was doing this, so rumour said, because a dispute had arisen between the Foresters of the Forests of Delamere and Wirral as to which were the best archers: and Prince John – hoping to increase his popularity – had proclaimed this great archery meeting, and thrown the contest open to the archers of the other northern forests such as Barnsdale, Plompton, and Sherwood. Furthermore, it was said that the prize which would be given to the best archer was an arrow made all of silver, with head and feathers of rich red gold.
‘I think,’ said Robin, when he heard all this, ‘that we should show Prince John that a Sherwood archer can shoot as well or better than any Delamere man… As for that silver arrow, I have a great desire to drop it into my quiver!’
‘We shall be in great danger,’ said Scarlet cautiously. ‘Prince John will certainly remember the outlawed Earl of Huntingdon – even if his servant has slipped his memory.’
Little John nodded. ‘And maybe,’ he said, ‘our enemies in Nottingham and York will expect Robin to compete for this arrow – and be ready for him should he dare to show himself at this shooting match.’
Robin Hood smiled slowly. ‘Exactly,’ he said, ‘should I show myself. But can I not go in disguise? Just I myself, since this is really rather a fool’s errand, and it is not right that I should risk any lives but my own.’
‘Never will I hear of it!’ exclaimed Little John indignantly.
‘Nor I!’ echoed Scarlet. ‘If you go, we go also – and the pick of our good fellows lie in wait near the butts in case of accident…’
The match was held on a bright October day, under a cold sun, with a touch of frost in the air to bring vigour and alertness to all who stood forth to show their prowess with the long-bow and cloth-yard shaft.
At Kingslea Park, on the edge of Delamere Forest, near the home of Sir Richard de Kingsley, Hereditary High Forester of Wirral and Delamere, a gay concourse was gathered together. Prince John, surrounded by the Knights and Gentlemen of Cheshire, and a fair number of his own followers, sat on a raised stand near the targets, and a large gathering of yeomen, foresters, and many others lined either side of the long strip of greensward which divided the archers from their targets.
All through the day the competitors shot and shot, with many a pause for refreshment. Prince John, to increase his popularity among the poorer sort, was giving free beef and beer to all comers that day – and found it hard to smile as more and more came trooping in from every direction to enjoy the shooting and his hospitality.
When the afternoon was far advanced all the heats had been shot off, leaving only six archers to compete – one from each of the forests. The excitement grew intense as each of them took their stand on the line and in turn bent the twenty-eight-inch arrows singing down the glade to the great target nearly a quarter of a mile away.
Up near the butts the excitement grew into wild enthusiasm as one by one the arrows came whizzing into the target with a sharp zip of tearing canvas. The long-drawn call ‘He! He!’ from each archer came ringing up the course, and in the hush that followed his arrow whistled through the air like a brown gleam of light.
Three arrows struck in the gold, two in the red which came next to it, and one in the black ring which was beyond the blue but better than the outside white. Yells of joy and triumph rose when it was proclaimed that both Delamere and Wirral were in the gold – the third arrow representing Sherwood.
‘And now,’ said Sir Richard de Kingsley, ‘since these three are equal, let them shoot at the eye – and that be the final test.’
So saying, he went down himself to the target and marked a little white eye in the centre of the great gold disc which shone in the light of the afternoon sun. When this was done, he returned to his place beside Prince John and blew a call on his bugle to bid the archers begin.
Then first the man from Delamere stood forward, gave his long, low cry of ‘He! He!’, notched his arrow, drew it to his cheek until the point was scarce an inch from the hand which gripped the bow – and loosed. The arrow hummed through the air, and a long sigh from the crowd went with it. Sir Richard stepped down to the target.
‘In the gold!’ he cried. ‘But a hair’s breadth out from the eye!’
In breathless silence the man from Wirral set the notch to the string, drew, hung a moment on the aim, and loosed – a tense murmur flying with the arrow and rising into excitement as it struck into the canvas.
‘Then Wirral has it!’ declared Sir Richard. ‘Unless Sherwood shoot better. The arrow is on the very line, and the white of the eye is wounded by it.’
Once more his bugle rang out, and every sound died with the echo of it. Quietly the man from Sherwood took his stand, notched the arrow, drew the string, glanced down the point at the distant target, and loosed with a calm air of certainty, striding up the course before ever it had reached the target.
As the arrow went on its way all heads turned to follow its course as if a great wind went with it, and the sound of its flight was drowned by a long moan which followed it, a moan of indrawn breaths which burst out with a cry of mingled praise and disappointment as Sir Richard de Kingsley proclaimed in a great voice:
‘True to the centre of the eye! I declare that Sherwood bears away the silver arrow from both Wirral and Delamere! Let the champion, the man of Sherwood, draw near and receive his prize.’
With his hood still over his head, the tall archer mounted the steps and knelt before Prince John.
‘Uncover, fellow, uncover!’ gasped the Sheriff of Chester in scandalized tones, and leaning forward he himself pulled back the archer’s hood.
‘I herewith bestow this silver arrow upon the best archer present,’ proclaimed Prince John, ‘and declare that, by the proof shown today, the archers of Sherwood outdo all others in skill, the archers of Wirral being second – a hair’s breadth ahead of the archers of Delamere.’
‘I thank your Royal Highness,’ answered the archer of Sherwood, inclining his head as he took the arrow.
‘What is your name, good yeoman?’ asked Prince John.
‘Robert Fitzwilliam,’ was the answer.
A knight dressed in chain mail, sitting behind Prince John, leant forward suddenly, scanned the speaker’s face, and then said quietly:
‘Once known as Fitzooth, and falsely called Earl of Huntingdon?’
‘Yes, Sir Guy of Gisborne,’ came the answer. ‘Once known as Fitzooth, and truly the Earl of Huntingdon.’
‘And now a traitor and an outlaw,’ added Prince John, his lips curling in a wolfish snarl. ‘Well, I am glad to have seen this far-famed Robin Hood – before I see him gracing a gallows.’
‘Shame upon you, false Prince!’ cried Robin, drawing himself up to his full height. ‘This is no way to treat a guest, and the lawful winner of your prize.’
Prince John was about to answer, when Sir Guy leaned over his shoulder and whispered something to him.
; ‘Go in peace this once, false traitor,’ said John, ‘but we shall meet again!’
With that Robin bowed, eyed Sir Guy coldly for a moment, and descended from the stand. The moment he was gone Sir Guy was away behind the stand, while Prince John remarked to the Sheriff of Chester:
‘To take him here might have caused a riot – and undone all today’s good work. But Sir Guy has men posted on every road, and he cannot escape. A clever trap indeed: Sir Guy knew his man well when he said that it was a bait this fellow could never resist!’
‘We are in great danger,’ said Robin in a low voice to Little John and Scarlet who were waiting for him in the crowd. ‘Gather the rest of our band and slip quietly away to the northwards where Delamere Forest lies deepest. If they overtake us, fire a volley, and then flee into the Forest: it will be dark in a couple of hours. If we lose one another, let each make his way separately to the trysting place in Sherwood.’
The danger came upon them sooner than Robin had expected. They were not yet out of Kingslea Park when the bushes on every side gave up armed men, and a shrill bugle call brought Sir Guy with several mounted followers galloping across the open towards them.
‘Now stand all together,’ directed Robin, ‘and shoot as you never shot before. Not one volley, but many, keeping back three or four arrows each man. There are but a dozen of us and at least four times that number of them – but has not today shown that the archers of Sherwood surpass all others?’
‘Yield, Robin Hood!’ shouted Sir Guy as soon as he was near enough. ‘My men surround you, and there is no escape!’
‘That rests with God,’ answered Robin. ‘And this is my answer to you, Sir Guy!’ As he spoke Robin drew his bow, loosed, the arrow hummed from the string and struck Guy of Gisborne on the front of his helmet. It failed to pierce the iron plate, but it toppled him backwards out of his saddle, and brought him to the ground with a crash.
Then the air grew dark with arrows, the men of Sherwood aiming and loosing with an almost incredible speed and accuracy, bringing down man after man of Sir Guy’s party dead or wounded. Two of Robin’s men fell dead beneath the answering arrows, but in a little while no one durst stand against the archers of Sherwood but fled in all directions pursued by the grim brown arrows.
‘Now,’ commanded Robin, ‘shoot no more but turn and run for the trees before they come again with reinforcements.’
But they were not to get away so easily. Sir Guy had recovered his senses and was up on horse-back again, urging on his men, while parties kept running in from various glades and rides in the Forest, which was almost continuously open in that part.
Twice small bands of men sprang on them out of ambush, and were only beaten back with quick volleys of arrows, and three more of Robin’s men had fallen by the time the darkness began to gather.
They were speeding along a wide, open glade now, and here the greatest disaster of all befell them. A small party of Sir Guy’s men came suddenly out of a side path ahead of them and discharged a volley of arrows. The answering volley sent them scurrying back among the trees, but the harm was done: Little John was hurt full sore with an arrow in his knee, so that he could run no longer, nor even stand upon that leg.
‘Good Master,’ then said Little John to Robin, ‘for the love of God, and for my love to you, and for all the service I have done you, never let Sir Guy find me alive and hang me. I can run no longer, and it were death to us all did you stay to defend me: therefore I pray you draw your good sword and smite off my head, or strike me to the heart, so that no life may be left in me when Sir Guy comes.’
‘Dear John, for all the gold in merry England I would not have you dead and myself still living,’ answered Robin. ‘No, though it leave Marian a widow ere she be wed, I would rather die at your side.’
‘God forbid that we should ever leave you behind us,’ echoed Scarlet.
‘Help him on to my back,’ commanded Robin curtly. ‘The rest of you follow behind, and shoot – but only when you can be certain of hitting your mark. Our arrows are nearly spent. Much, you are the youngest and nimblest – run on ahead and see if you can find any place of reasonable safety. Once darkness falls, we shall be safe enough – but only if we have got unseen into our hiding-place.’
They had proceeded but a little way, when Much came running back to them.
‘Yonder is a fine stone house,’ he exclaimed, ‘with towers and a good moat of water!’
‘If it be but the home of a friend!’ gasped Robin. ‘Much, did you note any crest or coat of arms, or other blazoning whereby we may tell who dwells there?’
‘Yes indeed,’ answered Much, ‘on a great slab of stone over the doorway is a shield painted gold, with a great ramping lion in red upon it.’
‘On a shield Or a Lion Rampant, Gules!’ said Robin. ‘Then our prayers are heard! Those are the arms of our good friend Sir Richard of Legh. Run back quickly, Much, sound our call upon your horn, and beg shelter for us of Sir Richard.’
Much did as he was told, and when Robin and his men came to the moat side, the bridge was down and Sir Richard himself there to greet them.
‘Welcome, welcome are you to me, bold Robin Hood!’ he cried. ‘I am overjoyed that so speedily the chance is given to me of repaying your great kindness shown to me when I was with you in Barnsdale.’
‘I bring you great danger!’ gasped Robin, setting down Little John in the entrance way. ‘Sir Guy of Gisborne follows with many men, and Prince John, now at Kingslea, will not let you shield me without striving to punish you.’
‘Come all within my hall,’ said Sir Richard, and when they were in, he bade his men draw up the bridge and defend the walls and the great tower. ‘I owe no allegiance to Prince John,’ he continued grimly. ‘Under King Richard, Ranulph Earl of Chester is my only over-lord – and so this upstart knight of Gisborne shall learn to his cost! But as for you, friend Robin, and for these your men, I shall hold you prisoners here for twelve days at least – and entertain you as royally as I may!’
Early next morning came Sir Guy of Gisborne with a large company of men, and demanded that Sir Richard of Legh should surrender Robin Hood and the other outlaws of Sherwood to him.
Sir Richard answered him courteously but firmly.
‘I am lord paramount of Legh,’ he said, ‘and only my over-lord, the Earl of Chester, has the right you seek – and of course the King himself. Robert of Locksley is my guest: I know nothing of this outlawry – which may hold good in Nottingham, but has no royal sanction in Cheshire. You, Sir Guy, a knight and a gentleman of coat armour, know well that neither by the laws of chivalry nor of hospitality can I surrender any guest within my gates to any but Royal authority.’
After this Sir Guy went away, and when the twelve days were up, Robin and his men bade farewell to kind Sir Richard and set out for Sherwood, Little John riding on horseback since his knee was not yet fully recovered.
But Robin was right in warning Sir Richard that Prince John would not let him rest in peace after crossing his will. Sir Guy had not dared to attack the house of Legh without fuller authority, and by the time he had overtaken Prince John (who was already on his way back to London) and could return with his mandate Robin and his party were back in Sherwood. Sir Guy did not then think it worth while to attack the heavily fortified house, but he and a picked band waited in the neighbourhood until one day Sir Richard, thinking no danger, went out hawking with only two attendants. Then they fell upon him from an ambush, took him captive and hustled him away to Nottingham where they cast him into prison.
Then Sir Richard’s lady mounted her horse and with two followers only rode day and night until she came to Sherwood.
‘God save you, Robin Hood!’ she cried when she had been found by several of his men and led to the secret glade. ‘For the love of Our Lady use all the power you have! Sir Guy of Gisborne has taken my husband, contrary to all law, and it is said that he is imprisoned in Nottingham Castle.’
‘We can scarce effect a
rescue there,’ said Robin, looking grave. ‘But I will come with you this instant and we will together to Chester there to beg the aid of Earl Ranulph – who will not lightly allow his liegeman to suffer durance in any shire but his own.’
Robin did as he promised, and it is a matter of history how Ranulph, Earl of Chester – as much a king in his own County Palatine as ever a king was of England in those days – defied Prince John and marched a small army of Cheshire men against Nottingham.
And the outcome was that Sir Richard of Legh was released from prison and escorted with all honour back to his own home – where neither Sir Guy of Gisborne nor John himself, even after he became King, ever dared to molest him again, however often he might entertain Robin Hood or any of his merry men.
11
Robin Hood and the Butcher
And thou, fine fellowe, who has tasted so
Of the forester’s greenwood game,
Will be in no haste thy time to waste
In seeking more taste of the same:
Of this can I read thee and riddle thee well,
Thou hast better by far be the devil in hell,
Than the Sheriff of Nottingham!
THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK: Maid Marian (1822)
Although there was so much to do in Sherwood where nearly all of the food they ate had to be hunted, trapped, or shot, and they were always in danger of surprise from the Sheriff of Nottingham, Sir Guy of Gisborne, and the rest, Robin Hood occasionally found time hang heavy on his hands.
On one such occasion he and Little John were walking by the high road to Nottingham where it runs through the forest, when they saw a Butcher with his cart of meat come jogging along on his way to market.
‘Younder comes a proud fellow,’ said Little John, ‘who fancies himself a master with the quarter-staff. He comes through the forest twice every week, and nothing gives him greater pleasure than the chance to thrash someone with his big stick.’