by Howard Pyle
Robin Hood slayeth Guy of Gisbourne.
Then Robin Hood wiped his sword and thrust it back into the scabbard, and, coming to where Guy of Gisbourne lay, he stood over him with folded arms, talking to himself the while. “This is the first man I have slain since I shot the King’s forester in the hot days of my youth. I ofttimes think bitterly, even yet, of that first life I took, but of this I am as glad as though I had slain a wild boar that lay waste a fair country. Since the Sheriff of Nottingham hath sent such a one as this against me, I will put on the fellow’s garb and go forth to see whether I may not find his worship, and perchance pay him back some of the debt I owe him upon this score.”
Robin Hood putteth on Guy of Gisbourne’s clothes.
So saying, Robin Hood stripped the hairy garments from off the dead man, and put them on himself, all bloody as they were. Then, strapping the other’s sword and dagger around his body and carrying his own in his hand, together with the two bows of yew, he drew the cowl of horse’s hide over his face, so that none could tell who he was, and set forth from the forest, turning his steps toward the eastward and Nottingham Town. As he strode along the country roads, men, women, and children hid away from him, for the terror of Guy of Gisbourne’s name and of his doings had spread far and near.
And now let us see what befell Little John while these things were happening.
Little John heareth some one in distress.
Little John walked on his way through the forest paths until he had come to the outskirts of the woodlands, where, here and there, fields of barley, corn, or green meadow lands lay smiling in the sun. So he came to the high-road and to where a little thatched cottage stood back of a cluster of twisted crab-trees, with flowers in front of it. Here he stopped of a sudden, for he thought that he heard the sound of some one in sorrow. He listened, and found that it came from the cottage; so, turning his footsteps thither, he pushed open the wicket and entered the place. There he saw a gray-haired dame sitting beside a cold hearthstone, rocking herself to and fro and weeping bitterly.
The widow telleth Little John her story.
Now Little John had a tender heart for the sorrows of other folk, so, coming to the old woman and patting her kindly upon the shoulder, he spoke comforting words to her, bidding her cheer up and tell him her troubles, for that mayhap he might do something to ease them. At all this the good dame shook her head; but all the same his kind words did soothe her somewhat, so after a while she told him all that bore upon her mind. That that morning she had three as fair, tall sons beside her as one could find in all Nottinghamshire, but that they were now taken from her, and were like to be hanged straightway; that, want having come upon them, her eldest boy had gone out, the night before, into the forest, and had slain a hind in the moonlight; that the King’s rangers had followed the blood upon the grass until they had come to her cottage, and had there found the deer’s meat in the cupboard; that, as neither of the younger sons would betray their brother, the foresters had taken all three away, in spite of the oldest saying that he alone had slain the deer; that, as they went, she had heard the rangers talking among themselves, saying that the Sheriff had sworn that he would put a check upon the great slaughter of deer that had been going on of late by hanging the very first rogue caught thereat upon the nearest tree, and that they would take the three youths to the King’s Head Inn, near Nottingham Town, where the Sheriff was abiding that day, there to await the return of a certain fellow he had sent into Sherwood to seek for Robin Hood.
To all this Little John listened, shaking his head sadly now and then. “Alas,” quoth he, when the good dame had finished her speech, “this is indeed an ill case. But who is this that goeth into Sherwood after Robin Hood, and why doth he go to seek him? But no matter for that now; only that I would that Robin Hood were here to advise us. Nevertheless, no time may be lost in sending for him at this hour, if we would save the lives of thy three sons. Tell me, hast thou any clothes hereabouts that I may put on in place of these of Lincoln green? Marry, if our stout Sheriff catcheth me without disguise, I am like to be run up more quickly than thy sons, let me tell thee, dame.”
Little John disguises himself in the old shepherd’s clothes.
Then the old woman told him that she had in the house some of the clothes of her good husband, who had died only two years before. These she brought to Little John, who, doffing his garb of Lincoln green, put them on in its stead. Then, making a wig and false beard of uncarded wool, he covered his own brown hair and beard, and, putting on a great, tall hat that had belonged to the old peasant, he took his staff in one hand and his bow in the other, and set forth with all speed to where the Sheriff had taken up his inn.
The Sheriff of Nottingham abideth merrily at the King’s Head Inn.
A mile or more from Nottingham Town, and not far from the southern borders of Sherwood Forest, stood the cosy inn bearing the sign of the King’s Head. Here was a great bustle and stir on this bright morning, for the Sheriff and a score of his men had come to stop there and await Guy of Gisbourne’s return from the forest. Great hiss and fuss of cooking was going on in the kitchen, and great rapping and tapping of wine kegs and beer barrels was going on in the cellar. The Sheriff sat within, feasting merrily of the best the place afforded, and the Sheriffs men sat upon the bench before the door, quaffing ale, or lay beneath the shade of the broad-spreading oak trees, talking and jesting and laughing. All around stood the horses of the band, with a great noise of stamping feet and a great switching of tails. To this inn came the King’s rangers, driving the widow’s three sons before them. The hands of the three youths were tied tightly behind their backs, and a cord from neck to neck fastened them all together. So they were marched to the room where the Sheriff sat at meat, and stood trembling before him as he scowled sternly upon them.
“So,” quoth he, in a great, loud, angry voice, “ye have been poaching upon the King’s deer, have you? Now I will make short work of you this day, for I will hang up all three of you as a farmer would hang up three crows to scare others of the kind from the field. Our fair county of Nottingham hath been too long a breeding-place for such naughty knaves as ye are. I have put up with these things for many years, but now I will stamp them out once for all, and with you I will begin.”
The widow’s three sons are brought before the Sheriff of Nottingham.
Then one of the poor fellows opened his mouth to speak, but the Sheriff roared at him in a loud voice to be silent, and bade the rangers to take them away till he had done his eating and could attend to the matters concerning them. So the three poor youths were marched outside, where they stood with bowed heads and despairing hearts, till after a while the Sheriff came forth. Then he called his men about him, and quoth he, “These three villains shall be hanged straightway, but not here, lest they breed ill-luck to this goodly inn. We will take them over yonder to that belt of woodlands, for I would fain hang them upon the very trees of Sherwood itself, to show those vile outlaws therein what they may expect of me if I ever have the good luck to lay hands upon them.” So saying he mounted his horse, as did his men-at-arms likewise, and altogether they set forth for the belt of woodlands he had spoken of, the poor youths walking in their midst guarded by the rangers. So they came at last to the spot, and here nooses were fastened around the necks of the three, and the ends of the cords flung over the branch of a great oak tree that stood there. Then the three youths fell upon their knees and loudly besought mercy of the Sheriff; but the Sheriff of Nottingham laughed scornfully. “Now,” quoth he, “I would that I had a priest here to shrive you; but, as none is nigh, you must e’en travel your road with all your sins packed upon your backs, and trust to Saint Peter to let you in through the gates of Paradise like three pedlers into the town.”
The Sheriff speaketh with the old man with the curly hair.
In the mean time, whilst all this had been going forward, an old man had drawn near and stood leaning on his staff, looking on. His hair and beard were all c
urly and white, and across his back was a bow of yew that looked much too strong for him to draw. As the Sheriff looked around ere he ordered his men to string the three youths up to the oak tree, his eyes fell upon this strange old man. Then his worship beckoned to him, saying, “Come hither, father, I have a few words to say to thee.” So Little John, for it was none other than he, came forward, and the Sheriff looked upon him thinking that there was something strangely familiar in the face before him. “How, now,” said he, “methinks I have seen thee before. What may thy name be, father?”
“Please your worship,” said Little John, in a cracked voice like that of an old man, “my name is Giles Hobble, at your worship’s service.”
“Giles Hobble; Giles Hobble,” muttered the Sheriff to himself, turning over the names that he had in his mind to try to find one to fit to this. “I remember not thy name,” said he at last, “but it matters not. Hast thou a mind to earn sixpence this bright morn?”
“Ay, marry,” quoth Little John, “for money is not so plenty with me that I should cast sixpence away an I could earn it by an honest turn. What is it your worship would have me do?”
“Why, this,” said the Sheriff. “Here are three men that need hanging as badly as any e’er I saw. If thou wilt string them up I will pay thee twopence apiece for them. I like not that my men-at-arms should turn hang-men. Wilt thou try thy hand?”
Little John promises to hang the widow’s three sons for sixpence.
“In sooth,” said Little John, still in the old man’s voice, “I ha’ never done such a thing before ; but an a sixpence is to be earned so easily I might as well ha’ it as anybody. But, your worship, are these naughty fellows shrived?”
“Nay,” said the Sheriff, laughing, “never a whit; but thou mayst turn thy hand to that also if thou art so minded. But hasten, I prythee, for I would get back to mine inn betimes.”
Little John loosens the bonds that bind the three youths.
So Little John came to where the three youths stood trembling, and, putting his face to the first fellow’s cheek as though he were listening to him, he whispered softly into his ear, “Stand still, brother, when thou feelest thy bonds cut, but when thou seest me throw my woollen wig and beard from my head and face, cast the noose from thy neck and run for the woodlands.” Then he slyly cut the cord that bound the youth’s hands; who, upon his part, stood still as though he were yet bound. Then he went to the second fellow, and spoke to him in the same way, and also cut his bonds. This he did to the third likewise, but all so slyly that the Sheriff, who sat upon his horse laughing, wotted not what was being done, nor his men either.
The Sheriff giveth Little John leave to string his bow.
Then Little John turned to the Sheriff. “Please your worship,” said he, “will you give me leave to string my bow? for I would fain help these fellows along the way, when they are swinging, with an arrow beneath the ribs.”
“With all my heart,” said the Sheriff, “only, as I said before, make thou haste in thy doings.”
Little John put the tip of his bow to his instep, and strung the weapon so deftly that all wondered to see an old man so strong. Next he drew a good smooth arrow from his quiver and fitted it to the string; then, looking all around to see that the way was clear behind him, he suddenly cast away the wool from his head and face, shouting in a mighty voice, “Run!” Quick as a flash the three youths flung the nooses from their necks and sped across the open to the woodlands as the arrow speeds from the bow. Little John also flew toward the covert like a greyhound, while the Sheriff and his men gazed after him all bewildered with the sudden doing. But ere the yeoman had gone far the Sheriff roused himself. “After him!” he roared in a mighty voice; for he knew now who it was with whom he had been talking, and wondered that he had not known him before.
Little John and the widow’s three sons escape.
Little John heard the Sheriffs words, and seeing that he could not hope to reach the woodlands before they would be upon him, he stopped and turned suddenly, holding his bow as though he were about to shoot. “Stand back!” cried he, fiercely. “The first man that cometh a foot forward, or toucheth finger to bowstring, dieth!”
At these words the Sheriffs men stood as still as stocks, for they knew right well that Little John would be as good as his word, and that to disobey him meant death. In vain the Sheriff roared at them, calling them cowards, and urging them forward in a body; they would not budge an inch, but stood and watched Little John as he moved slowly away toward the forest, keeping his gaze fixed upon them. But when the Sheriff saw his enemy thus slipping betwixt his fingers he grew mad with his rage, so that his head swam and he knew not what he did. Then of a sudden he turned his horse’s head, and plunging his spurs into its sides he gave a great shout, and, rising in his stirrups, came down upon Little John like the wind. Then Little John raised his deadly bow and drew the gray goose feather to his cheek. But alas for him! for, ere he could loose the shaft, the good bow that had served him so long, split in his hands, and the arrow fell harmless at his feet. Seeing what had happened, the Sheriffs men raised a shout, and, following their master, came rushing down upon Little John. But the Sheriff was ahead of the others, and so caught up with the yeoman before he reached the shelter of the woodlands, then leaning forward he struck a mighty blow. Little John ducked and the Sheriffs sword turned in his hand, but the flat of the blade struck the other upon the head and smote him down, stunned and senseless.
“Now, I am right glad,” said the Sheriff, when the men came up and found that Little John was not dead, “that I have not slain this man in my haste! I would rather lose five hundred pounds than have him die thus instead of hanging, as such a vile thief should do. Go, get some water from yonder fountain, William, and pour it over his head.”
The Sheriff striketh down Little John with the flat of his sword.
The man did as he was bidden, and presently Little John opened his eyes and looked around him, all dazed and bewildered with the stun of the blow. Then they tied his hands behind him, and lifting him up set him upon the back of one of the horses, with his face to its tail and his feet strapped beneath its belly. So they took him back to the King’s Head Inn, laughing and rejoicing as they went along. But in the mean time the widow’s three sons had gotten safely away, and were hidden in the woodlands.
The Sheriff of Nottingham feareth lest Robin Hood will rescue Little John.
Once more the Sheriff of Nottingham sat within the King’s Head Inn. His heart rejoiced within him, for he had at last done that which he had sought to do for years, taken Little John prisoner. Quoth he to himself, “This time tomorrow the rogue shall hang upon the gallows tree in front of the great gate of Nottingham Town, and thus shall I make my long score with him even.” So saying he took a deep draught of Canary. But it seemed as if the Sheriff had swallowed a thought with his wine, for he shook his head and put the cup down hastily. ”Now,” he muttered to himself, ”I would not for a thousand pounds have this fellow slip through my fingers; yet, should his master escape that foul Guy of Gisbourne, there is no knowing what he may do, for he is the cunningest knave in all the world,—this same Robin Hood. Belike I had better not wait until to-morrow to hang the fellow.” So saying, he pushed his chair back hastily, and going forth from the inn called his men together. Quoth he, ”I will wait no longer for the hanging of this rogue, but it shall be done forthwith, and that from the very tree whence he saved those three young villains by stepping so boldly betwixt them and the law. So get ye ready straightway.”
The Sheriff and his men set forth to hang Little John without delay.
Then once more they sat Little John upon the horse, with his face to the tail, and so, one leading the horse whereon he sat and the others riding around him, they went forward to that tree from the branches of which they had thought to hang the poachers. On they went, rattling and jingling along the road till they came to the tree. Here one of the men spake to the Sheriff of a sudden. “Your worshi
p,” cried he, “is not yon fellow coming along toward us that same Guy of Gisbourne whom thou didst send into the forest to seek the outlaw, Robin Hood?”
At these words the Sheriff shaded his eyes and looked eagerly.
