CHAPTER XVI
Carry me over the water, thou fine fellowe.--Old Ballad.
The pilgrims, without experiencing further molestation, arrived at theretreat of Sir Guy of Gamwell. They found the old knight a cup too low;partly from being cut off from the scenes of his old hospitality and theshouts of his Nottinghamshire vassals, who were wont to make the raftersof his ancient hall re-echo to their revelry; but principally from beingparted from his son, who had long been the better half of his flask andpasty. The arrival of our visitors cheered him up; and finding thatthe baron was to remain with him, he testified his delight and thecordiality of his welcome by pegging him in the ribs till he made himroar.
Robin and Marian took an affectionate leave of the baron and the oldknight; and before they quitted the vicinity of Barnsdale, deemingit prudent to return in a different disguise, they laid aside theirpilgrim's attire, and assumed the habits and appurtenances of wanderingminstrels.
They travelled in this character safely and pleasantly, till one eveningat a late hour they arrived by the side of a river, where Robin lookingout for a mode of passage perceived a ferry-boat safely moored in a nookon the opposite bank; near which a chimney sending up a wreath of smokethrough the thick-set willows, was the only symptom of human habitation;and Robin naturally conceiving the said chimney and wreath of smoke tobe the outward signs of the inward ferryman, shouted "Over!" with muchstrength and clearness; but no voice replied, and no ferryman appeared.Robin raised his voice, and shouted with redoubled energy, "Over, Over,O-o-o-over!" A faint echo alone responded "Over!" and again died awayinto deep silence: but after a brief interval a voice from among thewillows, in a strange kind of mingled intonation that was half a shoutand half a song, answered:
Over, over, over, jolly, jolly rover, Would you then come over? Over, over, over? Jolly, jolly rover, here's one lives in clover: Who finds the clover? The jolly, jolly rover. He finds the clover, let him then come over, The jolly, jolly rover, over, over, over,
"I much doubt," said Marian, "if this ferryman do not mean by cloversomething more than the toll of his ferry-boat."
"I doubt not," answered Robin, "he is a levier of toll and tithe, whichI shall put him upon proof of his right to receive, by making trial ofhis might to enforce."
The ferryman emerged from the willows and stepped into his boat. "As Ilive," exclaimed Robin, "the ferryman is a friar."
"With a sword," said Marian, "stuck in his rope girdle."
The friar pushed his boat off manfully, and was presently half over theriver.
"It is friar Tuck," said Marian.
"He will scarcely know us," said Robin; "and if he do not, I will breaka staff with him for sport."
The friar came singing across the water: the boat touched the land:Robin and Marian stepped on board: the friar pushed off again.
"Silken doublets, silken doublets," said the friar: "slenderly lined, Ibow: your wandering minstrel is always poor toll: your sweet angels ofvoices pass current for a bed and a supper at the house of everylord that likes to hear the fame of his valour without the trouble offighting for it. What need you of purse or pouch? You may sing beforethieves. Pedlars, pedlars: wandering from door to door with the smallware of lies and cajolery: exploits for carpet-knights; honesty forcourtiers; truth for monks, and chastity for nuns: a good saleable stockthat costs the vender nothing, defies wear and tear, and when it hasserved a hundred customers is as plentiful and as marketable as ever.But, sirrahs, I'll none of your balderdash. You pass not hence withoutclink of brass, or I'll knock your musical noddles together tillthey ring like a pair of cymbals. That will be a new tune for yourminstrelships."
This friendly speech of the friar ended as they stepped on the oppositebank. Robin had noticed as they passed that the summer stream was low.
"Why, thou brawling mongrel," said Robin, "that whether thou be thief,friar, or ferryman, or an ill-mixed compound of all three, passesconjecture, though I judge thee to be simple thief, what barkest thouat thus? Villain, there is clink of brass for thee. Dost thou see thiscoin? Dost thou hear this music? Look and listen: for touch thou shaltnot: my minstrelship defies thee. Thou shalt carry me on thy back overthe water, and receive nothing but a cracked sconce for thy trouble."
"A bargain," said the friar: "for the water is low, the labour is light,and the reward is alluring." And he stooped down for Robin, who mountedhis back, and the friar waded with him over the river.
"Now, fine fellow," said the friar, "thou shalt carry me back over thewater, and thou shalt have a cracked sconce for thy trouble."
Robin took the friar on his back, and waded with him into the middleof the river, when by a dexterous jerk he suddenly flung him off andplunged him horizontally over head and ears in the water. Robin waded toshore, and the friar, half swimming and half scrambling, followed.
"Fine fellow, fine fellow," said the friar, "now will I pay thee thycracked sconce."
"Not so," said Robin, "I have not earned it: but thou hast earned it,and shalt have it."
It was not, even in those good old times, a sight of every day to see atroubadour and a friar playing at single-stick by the side of a river,each aiming with fell intent at the other's coxcomb. The parties wereboth so skilled in attack and defence, that their mutual efforts for along time expended themselves in quick and loud rappings on each other'soaken staves. At length Robin by a dexterous feint contrived to scoreone on the friar's crown: but in the careless moment of triumph asplendid sweep of the friar's staff struck Robin's out of his hand intothe middle of the river, and repaid his crack on the head with a degreeof vigour that might have passed the bounds of a jest if Marian had notretarded its descent by catching the friar's arm.
"How now, recreant friar," said Marian; "what have you to say why youshould not suffer instant execution, being detected in open rebellionagainst your liege lord? Therefore kneel down, traitor, and submit yourneck to the sword of the offended law."
"Benefit of clergy," said the friar: "I plead my clergy. And is it youindeed, ye scapegraces? Ye are well disguised: I knew ye not, by myflask. Robin, jolly Robin, he buys a jest dearly that pays for it witha bloody coxcomb. But here is balm for all bruises, outward and inward.(The friar produced a flask of canary.) Wash thy wound twice and thythroat thrice with this solar concoction, and thou shalt marvel wherewas thy hurt. But what moved ye to this frolic? Knew ye not that yecould not appear in a mask more fashioned to move my bile than in thatof these gilders and lackerers of the smooth surface of worthlessness,that bring the gold of true valour into disrepute, by stamping the basermetal with the fairer im-pression? I marvelled to find any such givento fighting (for they have an old instinct of self-preservation): butI rejoiced thereat, that I might discuss to them poetical justice:and therefore have I cracked thy sconce: for which, let this be thymedicine."
"But wherefore," said Marian, "do we find you here, when we left youjoint lord warden of Sherwood?"
"I do but retire to my devotions," replied the friar. "This is myhermitage, in which I first took refuge when I escaped from my belovedbrethren of Rubygill; and to which I still retreat at times from thevanities of the world, which else might cling to me too closely, sinceI have been promoted to be peer-spiritual of your forest-court. For,indeed, I do find in myself certain indications and admonitions that myday has past its noon; and none more cogent than this: that daily ofbad wine I grow more intolerant, and of good wine have a keener andmore fastidious relish. There is no surer symptom of receding years. Theferryman is my faithful varlet. I send him on some pious errand, that Imay meditate in ghostly privacy, when my presence in the forest can bestbe spared: and when can it be better spared than now, seeing thatthe neighbourhood of Prince John, and his incessant perquisitions forMarian, have made the forest too hot to hold more of us than areneedful to keep up a quorum, and preserve unbroken the continuity ofour forest-dominion? For, in truth, without your greenwood majesties, wehave hardly the wit to live in a body, and at the same time to keep ourn
ecks out of jeopardy, while that arch-rebel and traitor John infeststhe precincts of our territory."
The friar now conducted them to his peaceful cell, where he spread hisfrugal board with fish, venison, wild-fowl, fruit, and canary. Under thecompound operation of this materia medica Robin's wounds healed apace,and the friar, who hated minstrelsy, began as usual chirping in hiscups. Robin and Marian chimed in with his tuneful humour till themidnight moon peeped in upon their revelry.
It was now the very witching time of night, when they heard a voiceshouting, "Over!" They paused to listen, and the voice repeated "Over!"in accents clear and loud, but which at the same time either were inthemselves, or seemed to be, from the place and the hour, singularlyplaintive and dreary. The friar fidgetted about in his seat: fell into adeep musing: shook himself, and looked about him: first at Marian, thenat Robin, then at Marian again; filled and tossed off a cup of canary,and relapsed into his reverie.
"Will you not bring your passenger over?" said Robin. The friar shookhis head and looked mysterious.
"That passenger," said the friar, "will never come over. Every fullmoon, at midnight, that voice calls, 'Over!' I and my varlet have morethan once obeyed the summons, and we have sometimes had a glimpse of awhite figure under the opposite trees: but when the boat has touched thebank, nothing has been to be seen; and the voice has been heard no moretill the midnight of the next full moon."
"It is very strange," said Robin.
"Wondrous strange," said the friar, looking solemn.
The voice again called "Over!" in a long plaintive musical cry.
"I must go to it," said the friar, "or it will give us no peace. I wouldall my customers were of this world. I begin to think that I am Charon,and that this river is Styx."
"I will go with you, friar," said Robin.
"By my flask," said the friar, "but you shall not."
"Then I will," said Marian.
"Still less," said the friar, hurrying out of the cell. Robin and Marianfollowed: but the friar outstepped them, and pushed off his boat.
A white figure was visible under the shade of the opposite trees.The boat approached the shore, and the figure glided away. The friarreturned.
They re-entered the cottage, and sat some time conversing on thephenomenon they had seen. The friar sipped his wine, and after a time,said:
"There is a tradition of a damsel who was drowned here some years ago.The tradition is----"
But the friar could not narrate a plain tale: he therefore cleared histhroat, and sang with due solemnity, in a ghostly voice:
A damsel came in midnight rain, And called across the ferry: The weary wight she called in vain, Whose senses sleep did bury. At evening, from her father's door She turned to meet her lover: At midnight, on the lonely shore, She shouted "Over, over!"
She had not met him by the tree Of their accustomed meeting, And sad and sick at heart was she, Her heart all wildly beating. In chill suspense the hours went by, The wild storm burst above her: She turned her to the river nigh, And shouted, "Over, over!"
A dim, discoloured, doubtful light The moon's dark veil permitted, And thick before her troubled sight Fantastic shadows flitted. Her lover's form appeared to glide, And beckon o'er the water: Alas! his blood that morn had dyed Her brother's sword with slaughter.
Upon a little rock she stood, To make her invocation: She marked not that the rain-swoll'n flood Was islanding her station. The tempest mocked her feeble cry: No saint his aid would give her: The flood swelled high and yet more high, And swept her down the river.
Yet oft beneath the pale moonlight, When hollow winds are blowing, The shadow of that maiden bright Glides by the dark stream's flowing. And when the storms of midnight rave, While clouds the broad moon cover, The wild gusts waft across the wave The cry of, "Over, over!"
While the friar was singing, Marian was meditating: and when he hadended she said, "Honest friar, you have misplaced your tradition, whichbelongs to the aestuary of a nobler river, where the damsel wasswept away by the rising of the tide, for which your land-flood is anindifferent substitute. But the true tradition of this stream I think Imyself possess, and I will narrate it in your own way:
It was a friar of orders free, A friar of Rubygill: At the greenwood-tree a vow made he, But he kept it very ill: A vow made he of chastity, But he kept it very ill. He kept it, perchance, in the conscious shade Of the bounds of the forest wherein it was made: But he roamed where he listed, as free as the wind, And he left his good vow in the forest behind: For its woods out of sight were his vow out of mind, With the friar of Rubygill.
In lonely hut himself he shut, The friar of Rubygill; Where the ghostly elf absolved himself, To follow his own good will: And he had no lack of canary sack, To keep his conscience still. And a damsel well knew, when at lonely midnight It gleamed on the waters, his signal-lamp-light: "Over! over!" she warbled with nightingale throat, And the friar sprung forth at the magical note, And she crossed the dark stream in his trim ferryboat, With the friar of Rubygill."
"Look you now," said Robin, "if the friar does not blush. Many strangesights have I seen in my day, but never till this moment did I see ablushing friar."
"I think," said the friar, "you never saw one that blushed not, oryou saw good canary thrown away. But you are welcome to laugh if it soplease you. None shall laugh in my company, though it be at my expense,but I will have my share of the merriment. The world is a stage,and life is a farce, and he that laughs most has most profit of theperformance. The worst thing is good enough to be laughed at, thoughit be good for nothing else; and the best thing, though it be good forsomething else, is good for nothing better."
And he struck up a song in praise of laughing and quaffing, withoutfurther adverting to Marian's insinuated accusation; being, perhaps,of opinion, that it was a subject on which the least said would be thesoonest mended.
So passed the night. In the morning a forester came to the friar, withintelligence that Prince John had been compelled, by the urgency ofhis affairs in other quarters, to disembarrass Nottingham Castle ofhis royal presence. Our wanderers returned joyfully to theirforest-dominion, being thus relieved from the vicinity of any moreformidable belligerent than their old bruised and beaten enemy thesheriff of Nottingham.
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