by Roger Green
‘Twice a week,’ said Robin, ‘and he has never paid any toll to us! It is long since I fought with the quarter-staff, except in friendly wise with you or Friar Tuck. I’ll go and have words with this Butcher – and see if blows come of it!’
‘I’ll wager a piece of gold he beats you!’ said Little John.
‘Done!’ smiled Robin, and laying aside his weapons, he cut himself a good oak staff and strode down the road until he met the Butcher.
‘Now then!’ cried the Butcher sharply, as Robin laid a hand on the horse’s bridle. ‘What do you want, you impudent fellow?’
‘You have haunted these ways long enough,’ said Robin sternly, ‘without paying the due toll that you owe to me! Come, sirrah, pay up at once!’
‘And who do you think you are?’ cried the Butcher. ‘A Forest Guard or what? I serve the good Sheriff of Nottingham – and he’ll make your hide smart for this, after I’ve tanned you myself, and broken your head into the bargain.’
‘I am of Robin Hood’s company,’ was the reply, ‘and if you will not pay tribute in gold, get down out of that cart and pay it in blows.’
‘Right willingly!’ answered the Butcher, and jumping out of his cart he charged at Robin, whirling his staff about his head.
Then there was as good a fight, and as pretty a play of skill with the quarter-staves as ever one might see: but the long and short of it was that though Robin suffered a sore clout over one eye, in the end he brought the Butcher to the ground with a last stunning blow.
‘The piece of gold is yours,’ said Little John coming up.
‘This is a fine fellow,’ said Robin as the Butcher sat up and looked about him. ‘Give him wine, Little John, I’ll warrant his head is ringing even louder than mine!’
‘That it is!’ groaned the Butcher. ‘By the Mass, you are a bonny fighter. I think you must be Robin Hood himself, and no other!’
‘That I am indeed!’ said Robin.
‘Then I think no shame at being beaten,’ said the Butcher with a sigh of relief. ‘And I’ll willingly pay any toll you may ask of me.’
‘No, no,’ answered Robin, ‘you’ve paid toll enough with that broken head of yours. Come now to our camp and see what good cheer we can make for you.’
When the meal was over, Robin said suddenly to the Butcher:
‘Good friend, I have a mind to be a butcher myself. Will you sell me your horse, your cart and the meat now on it for ten pounds – and stay here in the forest with us?’
‘Right willingly,’ answered the Butcher, and the deal was made.
‘You go into danger for no good cause,’ said Will Scarlet doubtfully as Robin donned the Butcher’s garb.
‘Nevertheless I go,’ answered Robin. ‘I grow weary of this unchanging forest life – and also I would have news of what passes in the world outside. It is said that King Richard is a prisoner somewhere in Europe, and Prince John makes no effort to find and ransom him: I would know more of this. Never fear, not even the Sheriff will know me!’
With that Robin fixed a black patch over one eye, climbed into the cart and went rattling away through the forest and onto the Nottingham road once more. In the afternoon he came to Nottingham, drew up his cart in the market-place, and began to cry:
‘Meat to sell! Fresh meat to sell! Fresh meat a penny a pound!’
Then all that saw and heard him at his trade said that he had not been a Butcher for long, since at that price he could not expect to earn a living. But the thrifty housewives gathered round him eagerly, for never had they bought such cheap meat before.
Among them came the Sheriff’s wife, and seeing that the meat was good, fresh and tender – and most unusually cheap, she invited the Butcher to bring his cart up to the Sheriff’s house, sell to her what was left, and then sup with her and the Sheriff.
Robin accepted with delight, and as evening fell he stabled his horse and empty cart in the Sheriff’s stables and sat down to dine as an honoured guest at the Sheriff’s board.
At dinner that night Robin learned many things which he wished to know. He heard that King Richard was in truth a prisoner, but that Prince John was giving out that he was dead so that he himself might become King.
‘But a pestilent fellow called Blondel,’ added the Sheriff, ‘has gone in search of Richard. He is a minstrel, and so can pass unmolested through the most hostile lands: may the plague take him speedily!’
‘Will the great Barons and the Lords and Knights accept Prince John as King?’ asked Robin.
‘There the trouble lies,’ said the Sheriff shaking his head sadly. ‘Many, like the Earl of Chester, oppose him. But many more will be won over…’
Later in the evening the Sheriff asked Robin if he had any horned beasts that he could sell to him – meaning live cattle rather than joints of meat.
‘Yes, that I have, good master Sheriff,’ answered Robin, ‘I have two or three hundred of them, and many an acre of good free land, if you please to see it. I can let it to you with as good a right as ever my father made to me.’
‘The horned beasts interest me most,’ said the Sheriff. ‘Good master Butcher, I will come with you on the morrow – and make you a right fair offer for the whole herd, if they please me.’
Robin Hood slept well and comfortably in the Sheriff’s house, and ate a fine breakfast in the morning before they set off together, accompanied by only two men, to see the horned beasts.
The Sheriff seemed in high spirits when they started out, jesting and laughing with Robin. But presently as they went deeper and deeper into Sherwood Forest he grew more and more silent.
‘Have we much further to go, friend Butcher?’ he asked at last. ‘God protect us this day from a man they call Robin Hood!’
‘The outlaw, you mean?’ asked Robin. ‘I know him well, and have often shot at the butts with him. I am no bad archer myself, if it comes to that: indeed I dare swear that Robin Hood himself can shoot no better than I.’
‘Know you where he lies hid in Sherwood?’ asked the Sheriff eagerly.
‘Right well,’ replied Robin, ‘even his most secret place of hiding.’
‘I would pay you well if you were to bring me thither,’ said the Sheriff.
‘That will I do,’ answered Robin. ‘But hist now: we draw near the place where the horned beasts are to be found. Stay a moment, while I wind my horn so that the herdsmen may drive them hither.’
So saying Robin set his horn to his mouth and blew three blasts. Then he drew a little behind the Sheriff and waited.
Presently there was a crackling in the thicket, and a great troop of red deer came into view, tossing their antlers proudly.
‘How like you my horned beasts, Master Sheriff?’ asked Robin. ‘They be fat and fair to see!’
‘Good fellow, I wish I were far from here,’ said the Sheriff uncomfortably. ‘I like not your company…’
‘We will have better company anon,’ Robin remarked with a smile, and even as he spoke out of the thicket came Little John, followed by Will Scarlet, Much, Reynolde, William of Goldsbrough, and many another of the outlaws of Sherwood.
‘What is your will, good master?’ said Little John. ‘Come, tell us how you fared in Nottingham, and whether you did good trade as a butcher?’
‘Fine trade indeed,’ answered Robin, pulling off his eye-patch and the rest of his disguise. ‘And see, I have brought with me the Sheriff of Nottingham to dine with us this day.’
‘He is right welcome,’ said Little John. ‘And I am sure he will pay well for his dinner.’
‘Well indeed,’ laughed Robin. ‘For he has brought much money with him to buy three hundred head of deer from me. And even now he offered me a great sum to lead him to our secret glade.’
‘By the Rood,’ said the Sheriff, shaking with terror, ‘had I guessed who you were, a thousand pounds would not have brought me into Sherwood!’
‘I would that you had a thousand pounds to bring you out of Sherwood,’ said Robin. ‘Now then, bind him
and his men, blindfold them, and lead them to dinner. When we reach the glade we can see what they have brought us – and by then I will have earned every penny, ha, ha!’
So the Sheriff and his two trembling followers were blindfolded and led by the secret paths to the hidden glen, and Robin feasted them there full well. But afterwards he bade Little John spread his cloak upon the ground and pour into it all the money the Sheriff had brought with him, and the sum came to nearly five hundred pounds.
‘We will keep the three good horses also,’ said Robin, ‘and let Master Sheriff and his two men walk back to Nottingham – for the good of their health. But let Maid Marian send a present of needlework to the Sheriff’s lady, for she entertained me well at dinner and set fair dishes before me.’
Then the Sheriff and his two men were blindfolded once more and taken back to the Nottingham road, and there Robin bade them farewell.
‘You shall not defy me for much longer, Robin Hood,’ cried the Sheriff, shaking his fist at Robin in farewell. ‘I’ll come against you with a great force, depend upon it, and hang every man of you from the trees by this road side. And your head shall rot over Nottingham gate.’
‘When next you come to visit me in Sherwood,’ said Robin quietly, ‘you shall not get away on such easy terms. Come when you will, and the more of you the merrier – and I’ll send you all packing back to Nottingham in your shirts!’
Then he left them and returned to the secret glade where the Butcher, whose name was Gilbert-of-the-White-Hand, was waiting for him.
‘Here are your cart and horses back again, good master Butcher,’ said Robin. ‘I have had a fine holiday selling meat in your stead – but we must not play too many of such pranks.’
‘By the Mass,’ swore Gilbert the Butcher, ‘I’ll sell meat no longer, if you will have me as one of your merry men here in the greenwood. I cannot shoot with any skill – for see how my left hand was burnt white with fire when I once shot a deer to feed my starving family. But you have had some little proof of how I can smite with the quarter-staff.’
‘Proof enough, good Gilbert,’ cried Robin. ‘I am right glad to welcome you as one of us… Come, Friar Tuck, propound the oath to him. And then to dinner, and we’ll all drink to the health of our new companion, Gilbert-of-the-White-Hand, the jolly Butcher of Nottingham!’
12
The Adventure of the Beggars
Our hearts they are stout and our bows they are good
As well their masters know;
They’re cull’d in the forest of merry Sherwood,
And never will Spare a foe.
MOSES MENDEZ: Robin Hood: An Opera (1751)
After Robin’s adventure with the Butcher, Gilbert-of-the-White-Hand, and his trick played on the
Sheriff of Nottingham, Little John professed himself to be jealous.
‘I must change clothes with some body,’ he said, ‘and go into Nottingham, and beard master Sheriff! Robin Hood must not be the only man who has dared do it!’
Robin laughed: ‘I would scarcely risk it again without good cause: one does not put one’s head into a lion’s mouth twice over. I escaped scathless – but you may not.’
Little John, however, was determined, and one day when he and Robin were walking through the Forest together, the chance came to him.
There were in those days a great many beggars wandering about the country – and they were not always either too old or too maimed to work: often indeed they were lazy ruffians who, if they could not get what they wanted by begging, turned as readily to force or even murder.
Such a beggar as this Robin and John saw striding along the road waving a great staff in his hand and singing merrily. He was strangely dressed in ragged clothes but so many folds of these that they would have kept out any weather; his hat was of the same kind – three old hats stuffed into each other and stuck together – and round his neck hung a great leather bag.
‘There’s your man!’ said Robin. ‘Go and change clothes with him, Little John, – and I’ll warrant the Sheriff will never know you.’
‘The very thought had already come to me,’ said Little John. ‘Stay you here, good master, and see the sport.’
So Little John ran down onto the road and stood in front of the beggar.
‘Tarry, tarry!’ cried he. ‘Indeed you must tarry!’
‘Not I,’ answered the beggar. ‘It grows late, it’s far to my lodging, and I’ll look a fool if I get there to find all the supper finished.’
‘Ah,’ said Little John, ‘I see that you think only of your own supper. But what about me? I have gone without a meal all this day: will you not help me to my supper ere you hasten to yours?’
‘A likely thing indeed,’ scoffed the beggar. ‘I have no more than the one penny which will purchase mine.’
‘Then give me that!’ cried Little John.
‘By the Mass,’ answered the beggar, ‘I’ll give you more than that! I’ll give you the biggest thrashing you ever had in your life!’
With that he threw off his cloak and bag, and made for Little John with his quarter-staff lifted. So they fought, striking each other many shrewd blows, while Robin sat hidden on the hillside and watched.
Presently he saw the beggar knock Little John to the ground, and he hastily fitted an arrow to his bow and waited to see what would happen.
‘Ha, ha, my fine fellow!’ jeered the beggar. ‘You’d take the last penny from a poor man, would you? I’ll show you what it’s like to be a beggar!’
With that he stripped off Little John’s fine doublet, hose, hood, and cloak, and put them on in place of his own ragged gown and three-piece hat, took up his bag once more, put Little John’s purse into it, and set off up the road laughing to himself, while Little John sat up slowly and looked ruefully after him.
‘Farewell, beggar John!’ laughed Robin as he came down the hill. ‘There you have your disguise; hie away to Nottingham and call on the Sheriff!’
‘By the Rood!’ said Little John, rubbing his head, ‘I seem to have lost the first round. But I’ll wager you, good master, that I’ll bring back better gains as a beggar than ever you would!’
‘Done!’ laughed Robin. ‘Now I’ll hasten after your friend there and see what he has in his bag.’
Away went Robin at his best pace, and very soon caught up with the beggar. ‘Not so fast, there!’ shouted Robin. ‘Stand still a minute while I come and break your head as you have broken my companion’s!’
‘I’m always ready to give alms of that sort,’ answered the beggar cheerfully. ‘And when I’ve thrashed you, I’ll have a change of fine clothes – just like any squire in the country!’
To it they went with their staves, but this time it was the beggar who went down while Robin stood victorious over him, drawing his hunting-knife as he did so.
‘Ah, spare me!’ cried the beggar, ‘Be good to me! What will you gain by butchering so poor a wretch as I? I fought in my own defence – and only punished your friend as I thought proper for his presumption… Look you, good sir, I have a hundred pounds hidden in my bag, and all that will I pay you for my life.’
‘So,’ said Robin, sheathing his knife. ‘A beggar has more than a penny to bless himself with. Well, my fine fellow, let me see the colour of your gold.’
‘Right willingly,’ answered the beggar. And with that he opened the great bag and drew from it a cloak which he spread upon the ground. He put his hand into the bag again, and Robin bent down to see what he would take out, the brisk wind ruffling his hair as he did so. The beggar moved round a little so as to get the wind behind him. And then he suddenly pulled out a great handful of finely ground meal and flung it into Robin’s face.
Robin was quite blinded for the moment and could do nothing but cough and rub his eyes; and while he did so the beggar snatched up his staff and laid him out with a good blow on the back of his head. Then he stripped off Robin’s cloak, hood and doublet, took his purse also, crammed them into his bag, and set off again, l
aughing heartily at his own cleverness.
Little John, now dressed as a beggar, came along the road just as Robin sat up and looked about him.
‘We’re equal now, good master,’ he said with a grin. ‘Yonder beggar has left you his second coat – and you have your hose… Now I’m off to see what I can win back from this fellow.’
‘The day is not over yet,’ gasped Robin. ‘I may still bring the biggest booty to the trysting tree!’
He got slowly to his feet after Little John had left him, and put on the beggar’s second coat – which happened to be a better one than the strange, ragged garment which Little John was wearing. Then he went back to the hillside where he had left his bow, his quiver of arrows – and his horn.
Robin stowed away the arrows under his coat, unstrung the bow which he could then use as a staff, and set off by the shortest forest paths towards Nottingham.
He was well enough disguised, for his hair and beard were now all matted and tangled with blood and caked meal, and he had one black eye.
Through the wood he went, and at length he came to the edge of the forest where a great open meadow sloped down to the walls of Nottingham. Here he found a large gathering of people who had evidently flocked out from the city to see a hanging, for the place round which they were clustered was a low knoll on which stood the gallows.
Robin shouldered his way into the crowd and soon came near the front, where he paused to ask what was going on. He was told that three young men had been caught killing deer in Sherwood, and as Prince John had left special instructions on his last visit to Nottingham that the Forest Laws were to be strictly enforced, all three of them were to be blinded with hot irons.
‘This is no public spectacle, but a cruel, unlawful wickedness,’ said Robin.
‘Aye, so it is, good beggar,’ agreed a stout yeoman who stood beside him. ‘But the Sheriff has proclaimed that this horror must be done in public – as a warning to other people.’