by Steve Barlow
Date 23 July 1194, 7.44pm
To len.dusomoney@huntingdon. com
Subject French vacation
Can you believe it? Richard let John off! No hot pokers, no prison cell. He just said, “John, you’ve been behaving like a big baby, don’t do it again.”
We’ve spent the past couple of months charging around France, chasing after Phi1ip’s army, but we kept missing them. Richard swore he’d cut Philip to pieces, but now he’s just agreed a truce with him. I wish he’d make up his mind!
Yours, as brassed off as a couple of candlesticks,
Basil
* * *
18th August 1194
It’s been a pleasant few months. No Robin and Marian with their lovey-dovey talk, no awful jokes, no Alan A’Dale, no forest.
I knew it was too good to last!
Marian and I were strolling in the courtyard today when we heard a yell from the sentry up on the battlements. I shouted up and asked him what he could see.
I asked him was he taking the mickey or what?
But it really was Robin and the rest of the lads, back from the wars. Richard sent them home to have a rest now he’s made peace with King Philip.
Robin was immediately smothered by Marian.
“Oh Wobin, I’ve missed you!” she said.
“So did the French archers,” laughed Robin.
“Oh, give me a cuddle, you gweat gween hunk!”
I staggered away to be sick.
Will Scarlet had his arm in a sling, but Much the Miller’s Son was carrying a crossbow that he must have nicked off some Frenchman, and they all seemed pretty chipper.
Let’s hope all the fighting’s over and we can have a bit of peace at last.
EDITORS’ NOTE
The following entries for the years 1195–1198 tell of life at Huntingdon. The diaries are mostly concerned with domestic details. Robin and Marian settled down to run a peaceful household and look after their estates.
The truce between Richard and King Philip soon broke down and the wars in France continued. Between 1196 and 1198, Richard built the greatest castle of the Middle Ages, Château Galliard.
Basil Count de Money continued to keep in touch with his cousin Leonard…
continues…
* * *
MICROHARD CHAIN MAIL MESSAGE
From Basil Count de Money ([email protected])
Date 26 March 1199, 11.54pm
To len.dusomoney@huntingdon. com
Subject A bolt from the blue
It’s finally happened! Richard has run out of luck.
We’ve been besieging the castle at Chalus. During the siege, Richard has been playing the game of “You shoot at me and I’ll dodge the arrow.” Usually, Richard’s very good at it. Only this time he wasn’t. The arrow hit him in the top of his shoulder.
He rode back to his tent and asked me to pull it out. I tried but it snapped, leaving the arrow head inside. Two surgeons tried to get the head out, but they made a right mess of doing it.
The wound’s started to swell and smell.
Things don’t look too good…
Yours, as worried as a bull in a
butcher’s backyard,
Basil
* * *
6th April 1199
I read today’s newspaper to Robin.
There were tears in Robin’s eyes when I finished reading. I had tears in my eyes as well. John is going to be King. That means major trouble.
7th April 1199
Marian and I waved Robin off this morning. He’s going to France for Richard’s funeral. I begged him not to, but I might as well have saved my breath. Robin’s always been faithful to Richard (not that Richard ever deserved it, in my opinion).
What worries me is that the minute Robin’s back is turned, the Sheriff of Nottingham will take Huntingdon away from him and give it back to that creep Guy of Gisborne.
Oh well. Back to the Greenwood.
28th June 1199
Robin got back from France a few days ago. He’d have got here faster but he’d had to dodge King John’s patrols.
A few of the lads have joined us in the forest. Everyone is trying to be cheerful, saying things will work out all right when a few more of the lads get here, it’ll be just like old times, etc – but that’s just talk. There’s no King Richard to fight for, nobody to come back one day and make everything better. Anyone who joins us now will be an outlaw for life.
The word is that the Sheriff is sniffing around looking for trouble, and so is Guy of Gisborne. Robin’s sent Marian to Kirklees Priory. The Prioress is his cousin, and she’ll make sure Marian is safe. Marian wasn’t keen on the idea, but she could see the sense in it.
“Never mind, Wobin,” she said as she left. “One day soon, we shall be weunited!”
I hope so.
I got a bang on the head when the fighting began and woke up tied to a tree. Shortly after this, Little John came rushing into the camp, roaring like a madman. He tried to shoot the Sheriff, but his bow broke and he was captured.
Little John told me that he and Robin were out on patrol when they saw a dodgy-looking character wearing a horse skin. Robin said he’d find out what this fellow was up to and sent Little John to fetch reinforcements. On the way home, Little John met Will Scarlet running for his life and found out what had happened at the camp. Being Little John, he decided he’d take on the Sheriff all by himself, which was not only very brave but incredibly stupid.
So there we were, both tied up like rabbits for the pot. The Sheriff was licking his lips and going, “Ho ho ho.” It didn’t look to me as if he was planning to let us off with a caution.
Then the man in the horse skin showed up.
“Gisborne!” yelled the Sheriff. “Have you killed Robin Hood?”
“I have, my lord,” said Gisborne in a husky voice. “His head is in my saddlebag.”
I felt a lump in my throat. Poor old Robin. Poor old me!
The Sheriff said, “Oh goody,” and went for a rummage.
Gisborne, the vicious swine, asked if he could kill the prisoners. The Sheriff said, “Oh, all right, seeing as it’s you.”
I was just bracing myself for a knife in the ribs when the man in the horse skin pulled off his hood (well, it was actually the horse’s head, yeuch) and I saw that it wasn’t Gisborne. It was Robin! He cut our ropes with a knife, and handed us a bow each.
While Robin was setting us free, the Sheriff was still rummaging in the saddlebag. He pulled Gisborne’s head out, and said, “Here, this isn’t Robin Hood.”
Robin said, “No, this is Robin Hood.”
And then he shot the Sheriff through the heart. The Sheriff’s men took one look and scarpered. Little John and I were bouncing round like kids shouting “bull’s-eye!” until we realised Robin was swaying on his feet.
He told us he’d met Sir Guy, killed him, cut off his head and stolen his horse skin as a disguise – but in the fight, Sir Guy had stabbed Robin in the side with his sword.
Robin is bleeding very badly. Little John and I will have to get him some help as soon as we can.
19th August 1199
We were wondering what to do with Robin when Little John fished a leaflet out of his britches pocket. It said:
Of course! It was so obvious! The Prioress was Robin’s cousin, and Marian would be there to look after him.
So we borrowed a cart from a mate of Little John’s, and we’re off tomorrow.
26th August 1199
It’s taken us a week to get here – we had to go slowly because Robin’s in so much pain.
He looks in a bad way to me, but as soon as we got here the Prioress said he must be bled and that would be ten silver pieces please.
I said, surely he’d lost enough blood already? The Prioress said, oh, thank you for the diagnosis, Mister Bigshot, and just exactly who was the doctor round here, her or me?
I can’t say I like the look of the Prioress much – she’s got nasty beady little eyes that look
right through you. But Marian (as soon as she’d stopped laying into Little John and me for letting Robin get hurt) said of course we must let the Prioress do whatever she thought was right, so that was that.
27th August 1199
Robin is dead.
I knew I was right not to trust the Prioress. It turns out she’s always been jealous of Robin. Even worse, she was a friend of the Sheriff. So she made a cut in Robin’s arm and let his blood drain into a porringer*. What none of us spotted was that the porringer had a hole in it, so we didn’t realise how much blood Robin had lost before it was too late. Little John wanted to burn the Priory to the ground, but Robin, weak as he was, still managed to say that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt a woman.
Robin realised he was dying. As he lay in Marian’s arms, he asked for his bow to be brought to him once more. Then he set an arrow to it and aimed out of the window.
With his dying breath, he murmured:
“Wherever this arrow falls, there let me lie.”
Actually, he was so weak that his arrow made a sad little arc across the room and stuck in the skirting-board, which would have been an awkward place for a grave. But when we looked out of the window, we saw a nice little clearing among the trees that Robin’s shot would probably have reached if he’d had his strength, and we reckoned that was near enough.
* A small bowl.
4th September 1199
It was Robin’s funeral today.
Friar Tuck came and read the service. Will Scarlet was there, and Alan A’Dale, Much, and all the lads who survived the attack on our camp – and Little John and me, of course. The Prioress has been driven out, and Marian has joined the nuns at the Priory. They all came to pay their respects.
We had a marble tombstone made for Robin to show our appreciation. It cost an arm and a leg, but I didn’t mind. I’ve put the cost against death duties!
Alan A’Dale wrote a poem (for once I didn’t object) and had carved it on the stone.
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Historical Note
by R. Celavie, Professor of History
at Trinity College, Basingstoke
This diary does nothing to solve the mystery of Robin Hood. It contains many references to things that did not exist in the twelfth century (e-mail, newspapers, package holidays, etc) and is therefore clearly a forgery.
The origins of the Robin Hood legend remain shrouded in mystery. There may have been an outlaw called Robin Hood who lived in the reign of King Richard the Lionheart. However, there is no real proof of his existence. All we know is that the tales of Robin Hood were so popular by the year 1262 that “Robin Hood” had become a common name for an outlaw. The first mention of “Robert Hod, a fugitive”, dates from 1226. So it is likely that over the years there have been many Robin Hoods living as outlaws, and their deeds have been added to the legend.
The fact that there is no record of the Robin Hood who was the enemy of the Sheriff of Nottingham and Prince John does not prove that this man never existed. Governments have always been better at recording their successes than their failures, and John certainly failed to capture Robin Hood.
All we can be sure of is that Robin Hood stands for freedom. Perhaps that is the only existence he has ever had.
But perhaps that is enough.
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