The Adventures of Robin Hood

by Roger Green

  ‘How now, Master Worman?’ asked the disguised Sheriff in an undertone. ‘What does this mean?’

  ‘Yonder is Earl Robert’s man, William Scathlock,’ answered Worman, ‘and he brings with him the son of that traitor who threatened your highness this afternoon, and in whose black heart I was lucky enough to plant an arrow.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Your Highness, when I inquired for Much the Miller’s son – never mind from whom – they told me that all was well with him since a certain Will Scarlet had come and taken him away to be cared for by Robin Hood!’

  ‘Will Scarlet!… Robin Hood,’ mused Prince John. ‘The devil!… Master Worman, and you, good Sir Sheriff, we are in better luck than ever we dreamed of! Do you not see? Will Scarlet takes Much to the care of Robin Hood… William Scathlock brings that same Much to the care of Robert Fitzooth – to that false Earl Robert who sells his lands and uses the proceeds so mysteriously… Why, my good fellows, it is proof positive… And that song they were singing:

  Long live Richard,

  Robin and Richard!

  Yes, there’s no doubt of it… Well, your fortunes are made. Tomorrow this traitor Robert or Robin is declared an outlaw – and you take and hang him forthwith. Then of course all his lands and goods are forfeit to me: I take them – and that attractive young heiress the Lady Marian lacks a husband… She has one waiting for her though, as I know well, and one true to my cause… Yes, Sir Guy of Gisborne shall have her – and with her father’s good will, or I am much mistaken in my man… And Sir Guy shall pay me a fine fat dowry for his bride!’

  No one suspected the two supposed palmers at Earl Robert’s feast, but none the less there was an air of anxiety over the wedding preparations in the chapel of Fountains Abbey next day.

  Lord Fitzwalter seemed troubled and uneasy, though his daughter Marian was calm enough, even though she and her father stood waiting at the altar some time before Earl Robert rode up to the door with his troop of bowmen. Placing his men in the aisles in military formation – much to Lord Fitzwalter’s surprise and the Abbot’s indignation – Earl Robert only then came forward to take his place beside Marian.

  Looking anything but pleased, the fat little Abbot began to intone the ceremony, his long lines of monks chanting the responses in the wide chancel behind him.

  But before ever the words were spoken which would make Robert and Marian man and wife, there came the sound of galloping hooves, the clash and jingle of armour, and into the chapel strode a knight with a drawn sword in his hand and followed by a band of men at arms.

  ‘What means this sacrilege?’ cried the Abbot, torn between fear and indignation.

  ‘Hold!’ cried the knight. ‘I, Sir Guy of Gisborne, come in the King’s name to forbid this ceremony to proceed! Pursuivant, read the mandate!’

  A man dressed in the livery of the Sheriff of Nottingham stepped forward, unrolled a parchment, and read in a loud voice:

  ‘Be it known to all, in the name of Prince John, Regent of all England, that Robert Fitzooth, known as Robert Earl of Huntingdon – known also as Robin Hood; for as much as he hath aided the King’s enemies, broken the King’s laws, and is a traitor to the King and to those by him set in authority; that the same Robert Fitzooth or Robin Hood is hereby declared outlaw, his lands and goods forfeit, and his person proscribed and banished. In the name of Richard our King and of the Regent, Prince John!’

  ‘Sir Guy,’ said Robert quietly, ‘this is an ill quest you come on, and all unworthy of the high order of knighthood which you profess. As for this mandate, I question its force! Show me King Richard’s seal attached to it… You cannot. Show me then the seal of My Lord Bishop of Ely the King’s only lawfully appointed Regent… Why, that is missing from the mandate also!… Tell me wherein I have played the part of a traitor – and wherefore I, Robert Fitzooth, Esquire of Locksley and Earl of Huntingdon, should answer for the supposed misdeeds of this mythical wood-demon called Robin Hood who is surely no more than a bogey raised by the credulity and superstition of the ignorant!’

  Guy of Gisborne laughed harshly.

  ‘This is no time for jests and fairy tales,’ he cried. ‘We all know that you have ever flouted the laws and striven to set the serfs against their masters. Why, the very act of calling yourself Earl of Huntingdon in right of your mother’s Saxon forbears shows you as a traitor: the old Saxon earls were deprived and outlawed for refusing to obey their rightful King, William of Normandy, and only the Earldom created by the King has any right in law. As for your trespasses in the matter of the Forest Laws – everyone knows your skill in archery – and there are few travellers in these parts who have not eaten the King’s venison under your roof. Finally, it is useless to pretend ignorance of the crimes committed by you under the false name of Robin Hood. How many among your own followers are proscribed felons who are said to belong to Robin Hood’s band?… What of his lieutenant who is also of your household?… What of Much, the Miller’s son, whom Robin Hood has under his care – in your house of Locksley Hall?’

  ‘Why then,’ came the quiet answer, ‘here and now Robert Fitzooth, Earl of Huntingdon, ceases to be. You have called me Robin Hood: both you and your Sheriff – yes and Prince John himself shall live to fear that name. And not only you, but all those like you: the abbots and bishops who grow fat on the sufferings of the poor; the Norman knights and barons who break both the King’s law and the law of God in their cruelties and oppressions – yes, and all their kind shall go in terror so long as Robin Hood reigns in Sherwood Forest: in Sherwood, and wherever else wrongs need to be righted – until King Richard comes home from the Crusade and there is justice once more in this fair land of England.’

  Then, turning to Marian Fitzwalter who had stood all this while by his side, Robin said gently:

  ‘Lady Marian, did you give your love to the Earl of Huntingdon whose lands stretch from the Trent to the Ouse, or to plain Robin Hood the outlaw who returns now to the home of his birth under the green leaves of Sherwood Forest?’

  ‘Neither to the Earl nor to his Earldom,’ answered Marian firmly, ‘but to the man whom I love and whose wife alone I shall be.’

  ‘Indeed, I thought no other,’ said Robin gravely, ‘and though the ceremony is but half completed, I hold that we are none the less man and wife in the sight of God and of this congregation… Lord Fitzwalter, to your care I commit your daughter: guard her well at Arlingford Castle, and I will demand her of you again when King Richard is here to place her hand in mine.’

  ‘To that also I swear!’ cried Marian. ‘You, Robin, are my lord and my husband, and no other shall ever be aught to me, though I live and die a maid!’

  ‘Go quickly now,’ said Robin to Lord Fitzwalter, ‘and go you quickly with him, sweet Marian. No, you cannot help me: when I have beaten off these curs, I ride to the merry greenwood, there to set up my court!’

  ‘Come now, false traitor and outlaw Robin Hood!’ cried Guy of Gisborne. ‘Out of your own mouth are you convicted of treason many times over before this company – whom I call upon to witness… Come now, deliver up your sword and submit yourself to the authority of your undoubted lord, Prince John. If you do so, there may still be mercy for you!’

  ‘He knows of no mercy!’ cried Robin. ‘Prince John knows only the desires of his own evil heart – and you do ill to serve him… As for my sword, I deliver it up to John and his officers – thus!’

  With a sudden lightning movement Robin whipped the sword from his side and smote Guy of Gisborne such a blow upon his iron helmet that he stumbled and fell to the ground insensible. Then he charged down the nave, his men closing in from either side as he went, and a short sharp battle took place near the chapel door.

  ‘Help! Murder! Sacrilege!’ shouted the fat Abbot, and his monks and friars took up the cry as they pushed and crowded in their eagerness to escape through the narrow door which led to the Abbey. They were speeded on their way by an occasional arrow from Robin’s archers who continue
d to send shaft after shaft among Sir Guy’s followers until they too fell back towards the door by which the Abbot had already squeezed his way into safety.

  When the sound of horses’ hooves told him that Lord Fitzwalter with Marian and their followers were well away in the direction of Arlingford Castle, Robin gave the signal to his men, and with one determined charge they were out of the chapel and away through Sherwood Forest in the direction of Locksley Hall.

  Sir Guy, still half stunned, was only just raising himself from the floor of the chapel, and Robin had disappeared with all his following into the green depths of Sherwood by the time he had gathered his wits and staggered to his feet.

  ‘There’s no use in following him now, God’s malaison upon this rogue Fitzooth and his friends!’ he exclaimed. ‘But he’ll find the Sheriff and Master Worman waiting for him at Locksley Hall if he ventures there!’

  Bidding those of his followers who still stood upon their feet attend to those whom Robin’s followers had laid out on the chapel floor, Sir Guy made his way into the Abbey, where the Abbot was only too ready to entertain him to dinner.

  ‘An unholy scoundrel!’ spluttered the Abbot, who needed his goblet filling again and yet again with choice wine before he could recover from the shock to his dignity and the terror of those terrible whizzing arrows. ‘He is well outlawed. May a blessing rest upon the head of the man who cuts him off!’

  ‘A dangerous fellow,’ agreed Sir Guy, putting his hand to his aching head. ‘And I grieve that he escaped us for now he will grow more dangerous.’

  ‘Earl Robert is a worthy man,’ remarked a friar who was quite the tallest, broadest, and reddest in the face of any there. ‘He is the best marksman in England and can outshoot any forester or archer both for distance and for directness of aim.’

  ‘Brother Michael! Brother Michael!’ puffed the Abbot. ‘You speak treason! How can an outlaw be a worthy man? And as for his skill as an archer –’

  ‘He will draw the long bow with any yeoman,’ interrupted Brother Michael placidly, ‘and split a willow wand at two hundred paces!’

  ‘Be that as it may,’ said Sir Guy, glowering at the friar, ‘he is an outlaw now – and the sooner an arrow reaches his heart the better.’

  ‘It is a dangerous thing to outlaw such a man,’ boomed Brother Michael. ‘You have taken his home: where will he live? Why, in the Forest! You have taken his cattle and his swine: what will he eat? Why, the King’s deer! You have robbed him of money and goods – why then, he will rob you and all of your kind. Oh-ho, no knight nor sheriff, no abbot nor bishop will be safe from him now!’

  ‘All the more reason why we should catch him swiftly and string him to a gallows!’ snapped Sir Guy. ‘But father Abbot, tell me of the Lady Marian: how came Lord Fitzwalter to betroth her to such a man as Fitzooth – for surely neither father nor daughter can have been ignorant that he was Robin Hood?’

  ‘Oh, she is a fine lass, truly!’ cried Brother Michael before the Abbot could get in a word. ‘I am her confessor, and indeed I should know! Has she not beauty, grace, wit, good sense and high valour? Can she not fence with the sword, ply the quarter-staff and shoot with the long bow all but as well as – as Robin Hood himself? Truly a worthy mate for a worthy man: I would, sir knight, that you had delayed your coming but a brief half-hour, and a knot would have been tied that all our usurper Prince John’s mandates could not have untied.’

  ‘My sword would have cut it soon enough!’ shouted Sir Guy. ‘And it is only your cloth, master friar, that saves your head from feeling the edge of that same sword.’

  ‘Oh, the penances I will impose upon you for this!’ began the Abbot, turning to Brother Michael and almost bursting with rage.

  ‘Why then, holy Father,’ cried the friar, ‘I will not be here to suffer them! I have a ready welcome at Arlingford Castle – and thither I will hasten and take up my abode.’

  ‘And I will accompany you,’ said Guy of Gisborne grimly. ‘This paragon of beauty, the Lady Marian, is well worth a visit – and may well prove a bait that will draw this outlawed Robin Hood into a trap!’

  3

  The Outlaws of Sherwood Forest

  An hundred valiant men had this brave Robin Hood,

  Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good,

  All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and blue,

  His fellow’s winded horn not one of them knew…

  All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrous strong;

  They not an arrow drew but was a clothyard long.

  MICHAEL DRAYTON: Polyolbion xxvi (1622)

  Early next morning Sir Guy of Gisborne set out for Arlingford Castle, his guide being the fat friar called Brother Michael who had so disgraced himself on the previous night by praising the outlawed Robin Hood.

  The friar rode at his side singing lustily – in spite of the fact that as they left the Abbey, the Abbot had banished him in no uncertain terms: ‘You go out, false and traitorous man, as you came in many years ago – plain Michael Tuck – no longer a Brother of this Order. If you show your face at my doors again, my doors will be shut in your face!’

  ‘Why then!’ cried the Friar gaily, ‘farewell to the Abbey of Fountains, and all hail to the jolly greenwood – and catch me again if you can!’

  So he went on his way, singing:

  For hark! hark! hark!

  The dog doth bark,

  That watches the wild deer’s lair,

  The hunter awakes at the peep of the dawn,

  But the lair it is empty, the deer it is gone,

  And the hunter knows not where!

  As they came in sight of Arlingford Castle the Friar ceased from his singing, and turning to Sir Guy, remarked:

  ‘You had best turn back, sir knight – or at the least lower that visor of yours!’

  ‘How?’ exclaimed Guy of Gisborne. ‘Surely Lord Fitzwalter is not in league with Robin Hood?’

  ‘Far from it!’ laughed the fat Friar, ‘but Lady Marian Fitzwalter assuredly is. And Lady Marian is as apt with an arrow as most damsels are with a needle!’

  They reached the castle in safety, however, and Lord Fitzwalter welcomed them loudly, showing great eagerness to be on the side in power:

  ‘You have done me a wrong? How so? Would you have had me marry my daughter to an outlaw, a fly-by-night, a slayer of the King’s deer – and of the Prince’s followers? A man who flings away an earldom, broad lands and rich treasures to help a lot of miserable serfs and other riff-raff most justly persecuted by the laws of the land. No, sir, no: you have done me a service. A great service. I have finished with Fitzooth, or Robin Hood, or whatever that rascally beggar now calls himself. And so has my daughter.’

  ‘And yet she is half wedded to him by the dictates of the church,’ remarked the Friar, ‘and wholly his by the dictates of her heart.’

  ‘The marriage was not completed!’ shouted Lord Fitzwalter. ‘Therefore I care nothing for it. As for love – it is your business, as her confessor, to show her that her love for this traitor is sinful and to be stamped out!’

  ‘Marriages,’ quoth the Friar, ‘are made in Heaven. Love is God’s work – and it is not for me to meddle with it.’

  ‘The ceremony was cut short – sure proof that Heaven laid no blessing on it!’ roared Lord Fitzwalter. ‘Besides, I betrothed my daughter to the Earl of Huntingdon, not to the outlawed traitor Robin Hood.’

  ‘He may be pardoned,’ answered the Friar. ‘Cœur de Lion is a worthy king – and Fitzooth a worthy peer.’

  ‘There can be no pardon,’ said Sir Guy hastily. ‘He has killed the king’s subjects and defied the king’s sheriff.’

  Lord Fitzwalter was growing more and more red in the face with fury, but at this moment the Lady Marian came suddenly into the room, clad in Lincoln green, with a quiver of arrows at her side and a bow in her hand.

  ‘How now?’ roared her father. ‘Where are you off to now, wench?’

  ‘To the greenwood,�
� said Marian calmly.

  ‘That you shall not!’ bellowed Lord Fitzwalter.

  ‘But I am going,’ said Marian.

  ‘But I will have up the drawbridge.’

  ‘But I will swim the moat.’

  ‘But I will secure the gates.’

  ‘But I will leap from the battlement.’

  ‘But I will lock you in an upper chamber.’

  ‘But I will shred the tapestry and let myself down.’

  ‘But I will lock you in a turret where you shall only see light through a loophole.’

  ‘But I will find some way of escape. And, father, while I go freely, I shall return willingly. But once shut me up, and if I slip out then, I shall not return at all… Robin waits for me in the greenwood, and the knot half-tied yesterday can so easily be tied completely.’

  ‘Well spoken, lady,’ cried the Friar.

  ‘Ill spoken, Friar!’ thundered Lord Fitzwalter. ‘Get out of my castle this instant! You are in league with the traitor Robin Hood, I know it! If you come here again, I’ll have you whipped, monk or no monk!’

  ‘I go, I go!’ said the Friar calmly. ‘I know of a hermitage by the riverside where I may well take up my abode – and levy toll on all those who would pass by: payment, of course, for my prayers! Abbey and castle have cast me out, but not so easily shall Friar Tuck be cast down!’

  And away he strode, singing blithely:

  For I must seek some hermit cell,

  Where I alone my beads may tell,

  And on the wight who that way fares

  Levy a toll for my ghostly pray’rs!

  ‘So much for an impudent friar!’ puffed Lord Fitzwalter. ‘Now for a wayward girl!’

  ‘A husband,’ said Sir Guy with meaning, ‘is the best curb for such as she.’

  ‘Aye, a husband – and of my choosing!’ agreed Lord Fitzwalter. ‘No more earls of doubtful earldoms, but, shall we say, a knight with definite lands and treasures, and definitely in favour with Prince John! Such a man, in fact, as – well, no matter!’