"Oh, sir priest, he was tired of the hard toil for Master Peter Greatrex the armourer, and he wandered away to do better, though I begged him to stay with us. And after many months we ha' learned that he ha' been took up for wanderin' and ha' been chained so long in prison at Tickhill till one foot is perished from him. And so we be going to claim him and take him home again."
"But, good soul," said the king, "they will not deliver thy son out of prison to thee."
"Oh, but we be his parents, sir priest," said the old woman, and tears came to her eyes, "and we be sure our Dickon hath done no wrong. Surely they will give him to US."
"Ay, old lass," said her husband, "dry thy tears and let be to me. Ha' I not Robin Hood's own words that he will see to it that when we get there they will give Dickon up to us?"
"And is Robin the gentle nobleman ye have met today, old man?" asked the king.
"Ay, sir priest, saving your presence, he is that. For 'twas he sent one of his men to us _ they spied us through the leaves as we passed along the fearsome road _ and when I thought 'twas a thievish rogue come to spoil us, why, 'twas a messenger from Robin himself who would have us speak with him."
"I would ha' run e'en then, sirs," said the old woman, "so feared was I of this Robin Hood, for he's a great outlaw as I've heard tell. But my old man said _ "
"I bade her have no fear, sir," went on the old man, impatient of his wife's interruption, "for I told her Robin was too good a man, as I heard tell, to rob poor folks, and belike he would but learn from us whether any rich merchants or priests _ saving your presence _ were coming behind us. But he asked us naught of that. Nay, sirs, 'twas the gentlest nobleman he was" _ the old fellow became quite excited as he went on; his face flushed, his eyes shone, and his hands gestured this way and that. "He asked us all about ourselves, who we were, whence we came, whither we were wending, and why. Then he ordered them to bring food and wine _ he fed us as if we were lord and lady, waiting upon us with his own hands-sirs, 'tis the truth I'm telling ye, as heaven is my witness. Then he crammed bread and meat into my bundle here and a bottle of wine, and led us to the road again. And he gave me this," he held up a coin which flashed dully in the torchlight: it was a silver penny; "and his last words were, 'Old lad, I'll see to it that thy son is given to thee when thou gettest to Tickhill. And if any saucy rogue stops thee on the road and would harm or rob thee, say to him that Robin gives thee peace through the forest land, and charge the rogue to let thee go, lest the fate of Richard Illbeast befall him.'"
"Saw one ever such a cross-grained rascal as this Robin," came the shrill voice of the merchant, who had heard all. "From me he taketh all I possess, and to this old churl who knoweth not the value of a groat, he giveth a silver penny, and belike it is one the rogue stole from me!"
"Oh, cease thy noise, old huckster!" cried the minstrel sternly. "I tell thee when the great trump sounds, 'twill be Robin will pass before thee up to St. Peter's knee, or I know not what is a good man, a noble doer. I will make a poem of this that thou tellest me, old man, for indeed 'tis a deed worthy of a poet's praise, and of the fame a poet's song can give to it."
The old man and his wife sat down to their meal; the minstrel became silent and absorbed, his eyes half closed as he murmured broken words over to himself, and began composing his poem, and the merchant and his men again wrapped themselves in their ~cloaks and turned to slumber on the truckle-beds ranged along the room.
Meanwhile the king had beckoned to de Warenne, and in a low voice asked what Robin had meant by "the fate of Richard Illbeast," on which the Earl and Ralph FitzStephen told the king all that had happened at York, of the flight of the leader of the mob who massacred the Jews, and of the capture of Richard Illbeast by Robin, who had executed him for his many crimes in the very presence of Sir Laurence de Raby, marshal of the king's justice. When they had finished speaking the king was silent for some time and was sunk in deep thought. At length he said:
"Methinks, this is no common man, this Robin Hood. Almost it seems that he doth right in spite of the laws, and that they be wrong indeed if they have forced him to flee to the greenwood and become outside the law. He robs the rich and the proud who themselves have robbed to glut their greed and their pride; but he giveth aid and comfort to the poor, and that seemeth to be no man's desire to do. I will gladly see this man, and by the favor of heaven I will make him my friend."
Then the king gave orders that beds should be set up, and all retired to rest.
Next morning the party of the king had not proceeded more than five miles along the leafy highway leading to Oilerton, when suddenly out of the wood came a tall man, dressed in an old green tunic and trunk hose of the same color. In his hand he bore a great bow taller than himself, at his side was a good sword, and in his belt a dagger of Spanish steel. On his head was a velvet hat, and stuck therein was a long feather from a cock pheasant's tail.
Manly of form and keen of look was he; his face and neck were browned by the summer sun and his dark curls hung to his shoulders. He lifted his sharp eyes to the foremost rider and said, holding up one big brown hand as he did so:
"Stay, sir abbot. By your leave ye must bide awhile with me."
He placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. Almost immediately, out of the shadow of the trees came forth some twenty archers on each side of the road. Each was dressed in green tunic and hose, torn and worn in places; but each was a stout man of his hands, well knit and bold of look, and each bore a bow.
"We be yeomen of this forest, sir abbot," said Robin, for the first man had been the outlaw himself; "and we live on the king's deer in this forest, and on what rich lords and knights and priests will give us of their wealth. Give us then some of thy money ere thou wouldst wend further, sir abbot."
"Good yeomen," replied the king, "I have with me no more than forty pounds, for I have stayed with our king at Blythe and I have spent much on lordings there. Nevertheless I will willingly give thee what I have."
The king commanded one of the cloaked figures behind him to produce his purse, which being done was handed to Robin, who took it and said:
"Lord abbot, thou speakest like an honest and a noble man. I will therefore not search thy saddle-bags to know whether thou speakest truth. Here," he said, "are twenty pounds which I render to thee again, since I would not have thee fare away without money to spend. The other twenty shall be toll for thy safe journey. Fare thee well, lord abbot."
Robin stood away to let the horses pass, taking off his hat in a dignified salute as he did so. But the abbot placed his hand in his breast and produced a piece of parchment, which he opened with much crackling of the stiff skin. There was writing upon it, and below hung a big red ball of wax, bearing a seal upon it.
"Gramercy, good yeomen," said the king, "but I bear with me the greetings of our good King Richard. He hath sent thee his seal and his bidding that ye should meet him in Nottingham in three days' time, and this shall be thy safe conduct to and fro."
Robin looked keenly into the shadowed face within the cowl of the abbot as he approached and took the parchment. He bent on his knee to show his respect for the king's letter and said:
"Sir abbot, I love no man in all the world so well as I do my comely king. His letter is welcome, and for thy tidings, sir abbot, do thou stay and dine with us in greenwood fashion."
"Gramercy," said the king, "that will I do willingly." Forthwith the king and his knights were led on foot into a deeper part of the forest, where, under the trystingtree of the outlaws, dinner was being cooked. Robin placed a horn to his lips and blew a curious blast. Hardly had the last notes died away ere from all parts of the forest which surrounded the glade in which they sat, came men in green, with bows in hand and swords at their side. Each had the quick, brave look of men used to the open air and a free life, and each as he approached where Robin stood, doffed his hat to his leader.
"By the soul of my father," muttered Richard into the ear of de Warenne, "this is a seemly s
ight, yet a sad one. These be fine men, and they be more at this outlaw's bidding than my own knights be at mine."
The king and his knights did full justice to the good dinner set before them, and when it was over Robin said:
"Now, lord abbot, thou shalt see what manner of life we lead, so that when thou dost return to our king thou mayst tell him."
Thereupon targets were set up at which a chosen number of the outlaws began to shoot, and so distant and small was the mark that the king marveled that any should hit it. But he marveled more when Robin ordered a wand to be set up, from the top of which hung a garland of roses.
"He that doth not shoot through the garland," cried Robin, "shall lose his bow and arrows, and shall bear a buffet from him that was the better archer."
"'Tis most marvelous shooting," said Richard, as he sat apart with his knights. "Oh that I could get five hundred as good archers to come with me across the sea. I would riddle the coat of the king of France and make him bow to me."
Twice Robin shot at the mark and each time he cleft the wand. But others missed, and those who fell before Robin's buffet were many. Even Scarlet and Little John had to bear the weight of his arm, but Gilbert of the White Hand was by now almost as good an archer as Robin. Then Robin shot for the third time, and he was unlucky, for his bolt missed the garland by the space of three fingers. There was a great burst of laughter from the archers, and a cry of "A miss! a miss!"
"I avow it," cried Robin laughing, and just then he saw through the trees at the other end of the glade a party riding toward them. They were Fair Marian his wife, clad in green, with her bow and arrows beside her, and with her were Sir Richard at Lee and Alan-a-Dale and Dame Alice his wife.
Robin turned to the abbot and said:
"I yield my bow and arrow to thee, lord abbot, for thou art my master. Do thou give me such a buffet as thou mayst."
"It is not fitting to my order," said the abbot, and drew his cowl closer about his face to hide it from Robin's keen glance and from the eyes of the party riding toward them.
"Smite boldly, sir abbot," urged Robin; "I give thee full leave."
The king smiled, bared his arm, and gave so stout a blow full on Robin's breast that the outlaw was hurled some feet away and almost fell to the ground. He kept his feet, however, and coming to the king, from whose face the cowl had dropped away by reason of the violence of his blow, he said:
"By the sweet Virgin, but there is pith in thy arm, lord abbot _ if abbot thou art or monk _ and a stalwart man art thou."
At this very moment Sir Richard at Lee leaped from his saddle, and doffing his hat ran forward, crying, "'Tis the king! kneel, Robin!" The knight knelt on his knees before the king, who now thrust the cowl from off his head of brown hair, and revealed the handsome face and blue eyes, in which a proud but genial light shone, of Richard Coeur-de-Lion. Then he tore aside the black robes he wore, showing beneath the rich silk surtout blazoned with the leopards of Anjou and the fleur-de-lys of France.
Robin and his outlaws and Alan-a-Dale kneeled at the sight, and Fair Marian and Dame Alice getting from their horses curtsied humbly.
"By the soul of my father," said Richard with a gay laugh, "but this is a right fair adventure. Why do ye kneel, good Robin? Art thou not king of the greenwood?"
"My lord, the King of England," said Robin; "I love thee and fear thee, and would crave thy mercy for myself and my men for all the deeds which we have done against thy laws. Of thy goodness and grace give us mercy!"
"Rise, Robin, for by the Trinity, I have never met in the greenwood a man so much after my heart as thou art," said the king. He caught Robin by the hand and lifted him to his feet. "But, by the Virgin, thou must leave this life and be my liege servant and rule thyself as a lawful man."
"This will I do willingly, my lord the king," said Robin, "for I would liefer keep thy law and do what good I may openly than live outside the law."
"So let it be," replied the king; "I have heard all that thou hast done. Thou hast wedded a rich ward of mine against all my right and due! Is this fair lady she who hath left wealth and honors and lands for love of thee?"
Fair Marian cast herself upon her knees before the king, who gave her his hand to kiss, after which he raised her to her feet.
"Come," said the king, "thou hast given up much to come to thy good archer, fair lady. I can only agree that thou hast chosen a bold man and a brave one. Thou wert ward of mine, and I give thee willingly where thou hast already given thyself."
So saying the king joined the hands of Robin and Marian, both of whom felt very happy in having the king himself pardon them for so wilfully acting against his rights.
"But," went on the king, smiling, "thou hast committed so many bold deeds, Robin, that I must doom thee to some punishment for them. Go thou and lead a quiet life after these years of strife and hiding. Take thy fair dame and dwell with her on her lands at Malaset, at peace with my deer and all thy fellow subjects. Uphold the laws which my wise councillors make for the peace and prosperity of this realm. By so doing thou shalt win my pardon."
"My lord king," said Robin, deeply moved at the king's generosity, "for this thy great mercy and favor I will ever be thy faithful and loyal servant."
"See to it, de Warenne," said Richard, "that Robin, by virtue of his dame Marian, be put in possession of all her lands and dues."
"I will see to it, sire," said the stout Earl Hamelin, "the more eagerly because I look forward to having Robin's good help in collecting thy taxes with due promptitude in the manors and boroughs on the Lancashire marches."
The king laughed and turned to Robin. "For thy aid in gathering my ransom I give thee thanks," he said.
Then Robin brought Sir Richard at Lee to the king, who heard Sir Richard's prayer and was pleased to give him his lands again, and to grant him full pardon for having offended against the laws in giving aid to Robin.
Finally Alan-a-Dale and Dame Alice kneeled before the king, who heard how they, with Sir Walter de Beauforest, the lady's father, had incurred the enmity of Sir Isenbart de Belame, and ever lived in fear of that knight's sudden attack upon their manors and lands. The king inquired narrowly of the deeds of the lords of Wrangby, and his brow went dark with anger, when he heard of their manifold and wicked oppressions.
"They are an evil brood!" he said at length sadly. "But I and my dear father's other undutiful sons did bring them to life, for we plunged the realm in wicked wars and confusion. And my brother John would do the same while I am fighting for the Holy Sepulchre, and these evil lords thrive in his company. De Warenne, I will speak further as to these lords of the Evil Hold! Let me but settle with that traitor, Philip of France, and thrust him from my lands in Normandy and Aquitaine, and I will come back and sweep these evil castles from the land and stamp out the nests of vipers and serpents that shelter behind their strong walls."
Two days later the king's messenger handed a parchment to the gate-guard at the castle of Wrangby and would not stay for food or lodging, as a sign of the king's displeasure. When Isenbart de Belame read the writing on the parchment his mouth went wry with a bitter sneer.
"So!" he said mockingly, "the king takes outlaws to his bosom because he wants good archers for his wars in Normandy. And he will have me to know that any harm done upon Sir Walter de Beauforest, Alan de Tranmire or Dame Alice, or any of their lands, manors, villeins, or other estate will be crimes against the king, to be punished as acts of treason."
He dashed the parchment to the floor and his eyes flashed with evil fire.
"I must bide my time a little longer," he muttered to himself. "Who knows? The king will play at castletaking with Philip of France. He may be slain any day, and then when Earl John shall take the throne, I shall have license to do all I wish with that insolent outlaw and all his friends. I will bide my time."
As the king had bidden him, Robin went with Fair Marian to the lands of Malaset, and received them back from the guardianship of Scrivel of Catsty, who yielded
up the castle, the manor and the fair broad lands with an evil grace. There Robin dwelled in peace and comfort, tending the estates of his wife with good husbandry and careful rule, guarding the lands from encroachment by neighboring lords, and knitting all his villeins and freeholders to himself by his kindliness and frankness.
With him went Hob o' the Hill and Ket the Trow, together with their two sisters. Their mother had died in the "howe," or green mound, a little while before, and they had therefore wished to leave the place. Little John also went with Robin, and Gilbert of the White Hand, who married Sibbie, one of the fairy sisters, and lived in a cottage which Robin gave to them. The other sister, Fenella, wedded Wat Graham of Car Peel, a brave fighter from the borderlands, and their children were long said to have the fairy gifts of second sight, invisibility and supernatural strength.
The other outlaws all yielded to King Richard's offer of high wages and great loot, and went with him to Normandy, there to fight the French king and the rebellious "weathercocks" of Poitou. Most of them left their bones there; a score or two came back, after King Richard was slain, some rich with plunder, others as poor as they went forth, and all these gradually drifted to Malaset, where "Squire Robin," as he was called, settled them on lands.
Henry Gilbert - Robin Hood Page 27