The Adventures of Robin Hood

by Roger Green

  ‘Now go!’ he commanded. ‘If you are visible five minutes from now, my men shall hunt you like a wolf. And if ever they see you again they have my command to shoot you as they would a wolf – and as I shall shoot you if ever you cross my path again.’

  Then Mother Maudlin turned and fled away swiftly, without a word, and was never more seen at Paplewick, nor anywhere in Sherwood Forest.

  But Robin and Little John and Eglamour entered the hovel, and there they found Earine alive and well, but gagged and bound so that she could neither move nor cry out.

  When they had released her and Eglamour, his wits quite restored at the sight of his beloved, had carried her away into the forest, Robin and John set fire to that evil dwelling, and stood by until only smouldering ashes remained to show where the witch of Paplewick had lived.

  Then they returned in joy and triumph to the feast, where Marian and Amie were waiting for them, and Friar Tuck was just serving up the savoury joints of venison.

  There was wild rejoicing over the recovery of Earine, and Friar Tuck swore that after dinner he would solemnize two marriages – not only Lionel and Amie, but Eglamour and Earine as well.

  ‘But now to dinner!’ he cried, ‘that comes before all!’ And with that he sang,

  Now to the feast, the greenwood feast,

  With happy heart each rural guest!

  Sound, bugles, sound! each nymph and swain

  Join in the cheerful choral strain;

  And nimbly trip it through the wood

  To the famed feast of Robin Hood!

  19

  The Last of Guy of Gisborne

  Now take thou golde and fee!

  Sir Guy, well cume mote thou bee!

  Golde and fee wylle I none,

  But yon outlawe alone.

  ANON.: Folk Play of Robin Hood (before 1476)

  It was a glorious Spring morning, the new leaves were fully opened, the greensward all fresh and daisy-clad, and the birds sang merrily in every tree and bush.

  Loudest of all sang the thrush who sat upon a spray of white hawthorn, so loud that at length he wakened Robin Hood who slept in the mouth of his cave nearby in the secret glade in Sherwood Forest.

  ‘Now, by my faith!’ cried Robin as he sat up, to find his men already moving about the glade, preparing breakfast. ‘I had a strange dream that kept me sleeping. I dreamed of two strong foresters who fought with me. And I dreamed that they overcame me and bound me. Then they beat me and took my bow away from me… I trust that this dream bodes no evil to me or to any of us this day.’

  ‘Dreams are light things,’ said Little John. ‘They come like the wind that blows over the hill – however loud it may be in the night, in the morning there may be no wind at all.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ said Robin, ‘we know that the Sheriff of Nottingham has been gathering men and sending spies through the forest this month past. He intends something against us, depend upon it.’

  ‘And we are ready for him,’ answered Little John. ‘Every path leading towards this glade is prepared, and men are on watch night and day.’

  ‘Then let them all be ready this day,’ said Robin, ‘and especially on guard. But John, you and I will go out into the greenwood – to see whether we chance upon the two men of my dream.’

  Robin Hood and Little John set out accordingly, and they had not gone half a mile when they saw a man dressed as a forester, with his hood rather over his face, leaning against a tree with a bow in his hand. By his side hung sword and dagger, and his jerkin was of horse-hide.

  ‘Stand you here, good master,’ said Little John, ‘under this shadowy tree. And I will go and speak with yonder strong forester and see if he intends us any harm.’

  But Robin answered rather more sharply than usual, perhaps still troubled by his dream or over anxious on account of the Sheriff’s expected attack:

  ‘I am not accustomed to let my men go first while I follow after them into danger. You put yourself forward too much, John – and I’ve half a mind to cut me a staff and give you a good beating – to show that I can still strike a shrewd blow or two.’

  Little John was also violent of temper, but he was accustomed to these occasional outbursts from Robin.

  ‘Then I’ll leave you to try whether dreams speak true,’ he said. ‘I’ll go along the Nottingham road and see if all is quiet there.’

  Off went Little John accordingly, and was soon whistling happily as he traced the forest paths and came out onto the grassy Nottingham road.

  But here he was brought up suddenly with no further desire to whistle. For in the grass on the roadside two men lay dead with arrows in their hearts, and it needed only a glance to tell John that both of them were fellow outlaws and members of Robin’s band. And even while he stood by them he heard shouts, and Will Scarlet came down the road, running for his life, and behind him a whole troop of the Sheriff’s men and with them several of Sir Guy’s men at arms, and two or three verderers.

  One verderer, William Trent, whom John knew well and had once thrashed at quarter-staff stepped up onto a log and loosed his arrow, and Will Scarlet pitched forward onto his face.

  ‘It were better for you, William Trent, that your hand had been smitten off at the wrist ere ever you fired that shot!’ cried Little John, and as he spoke his bow twanged, and Will Scarlet’s slayer lay dead in the high road. And so mightily had Little John drawn his bow in his grief and rage that the arrow passed clean through William Trent and slew another man who stood behind him. But the very fury of the shot was Little John’s undoing, for the bow broke into several pieces, and before he could draw his sword the Sheriff’s men were upon him and he was bound hand and foot.

  The Sheriff rode up and surveyed Little John from head to foot.

  ‘Here,’ he said exultantly, ‘we have one of the worst rascals of them all! Fellow, you shall be drawn at a rope’s end by down and dale back to Nottingham, and hanged on the castle hill!’

  ‘But, if God wills it otherwise,’ answered Little John, ‘you may yet be cheated of your purpose.’

  ‘There will be no escape this time,’ said the Sheriff with a grim smile. ‘For what can your wretched gang of outlaws do against the seven score men who are out this day to rid Sherwood Forest of the whole pack of you?’

  ‘Now Heaven protect my good master Robin Hood,’ said Little John, and he blamed himself sorely for leaving him alone merely because of a hasty word.

  Meanwhile Robin had gone forward to speak with the solitary forester, who stood waiting for him beneath the tree.

  ‘Good morrow, good fellow,’ said Robin courteously. ‘By the fine bow you carry in your hand, I take it that you are an archer, and a good one too.’

  ‘That am I,’ answered the stranger with a strong west country accent. ‘And a stranger in these parts who cannot find his way through these woods.’

  ‘Come with me then,’ said Robin, ‘and I will guide you on your way. What do you here, and where do you wish to go?’

  ‘I seek a man they call Robin Hood,’ said the stranger, ‘for fain would I serve him and be one of his company.’

  ‘That is easily accomplished,’ Robin assured him. ‘Come with me and I will lead you to where he dwells.’

  They strode through the wood for some time, the stranger always keeping his head down as if in deep thought. More than once he showed signs of dropping behind, but Robin was always ready to slacken his pace and apologize for his speed.

  Presently the stranger said:

  ‘Good sir, let us pause awhile in this glade and rest.’

  ‘Right willingly,’ answered Robin. ‘But while we are here, let us see how good a marksman you are.’

  ‘That is well thought of,’ said the stranger eagerly, and he strung his bow and set an arrow on the string.

  ‘At what shall we shoot?’ asked Robin. ‘The stump over yonder must be two hundred yards and more, and see a white patch of lichen on it which will make a bull’s eye.’

  ‘Fie!
’ cried the stranger scornfully. ‘Is that all you of Sherwood can do? Why, in Pendle Forest we would think scorn of so easy a mark.’

  Robin flushed at this.

  ‘I’ll set you a Sherwood mark,’ he said angrily, ‘that few men in the world can hit even at fifty yards!’

  With that he flung down his bow and quiver, and strode down the glade, pausing to cut a slim hazel wand which he began to peel with his hunting knife.

  ‘Robin Hood!’ called the stranger when he had gone a dozen yards or so – and now his voice had changed, and there was no longer any trace of an accent in it. But Robin spun round at the sound of the voice, for he recognized it as that of Guy of Gisborne, even if the stranger had not thrown off his hood.

  ‘This is the last round,’ said Guy grimly, and very slowly and deliberately he drew back the string of his bow, the point of his arrow in a line with Robin’s heart.

  ‘Coward as well as forsworn knight and false traitor,’ said Robin quietly. ‘Will you not even meet me fairly, man to man and sword to sword? There is no shame in that: I am gently born as yourself, you know well: but to shoot an unarmed man is shame indeed – and damnation to follow.’

  Sir Guy flushed a little at Robin’s words, for seldom indeed can those who are nobly born crush out the last flicker of the honour which is their birth-portion. But he only said:

  ‘When Robert of Locksley became Robin Hood of Sherwood he was cast out beyond the law of man and beyond the pale of honour. In a little while I shall wind my horn and thereby the Sheriff shall know that Robin Hood is dead: and by then the half of your followers will be dead or captive also. But if you like to yield yourself prisoner to me now, I can promise you a gallows in Nottingham.’

  ‘Why then,’ said Robin, ‘I choose an arrow in Sherwood – if you can plant one in my heart!’

  As he spoke he stooped slightly, and then with a sudden movement flung the knife which he still held in his hand and flung himself forward flat on the ground with the same movement.

  The knife flashed through the air as Guy’s bow twanged: the arrow flew above Robin’s head and as Guy raised his arm to ward off the knife its flashing blade bit deep into his bow, and glanced off, wounding him slightly in the cheek as it passed.

  A moment later Robin was on his feet again, his sword drawn in his hand, and charged down upon Guy, who flung aside his useless bow and also drew his sword.

  ‘This is indeed the last round,’ cried Robin. ‘But now the combat is even – and may God defend the right!’

  Then they came together, lashing and smiting with their swords until the sparks flew.

  It was not a long combat. Once Guy’s sword grazed Robin’s neck, but the next instant Robin swung his blade with a shout and smote Guy in the side. But the sword rebounded, and Guy did but stagger a little.

  ‘Chain armour!’ cried Robin, and he stepped back hastily to avoid Guy’s return blow – and tripped over a tree root.

  ‘Dear Mary, Mother of God, intercede for me now!’ prayed Robin, and he warded off the stab, which Guy aimed at his body with such good effect that Guy stumbled and drove his sword into the ground.

  That moment saved Robin, and the next he whirled up his sword and smote Guy a back-handed blow from beneath which clove the bone of his forehead. Then Sir Guy of Gisborne reeled back, his sword fell from his hand, and with one terrible cry he fell to the ground and died.

  Robin stood panting for a little while, looking on the dead body of his enemy. Then he said grimly:

  ‘There lies a false and dishonoured man, but in his death he may yet do good.’ With that he smote off Guy’s head, took off his own hood and wrapped it in it. Then he put on Guy’s horse-skin jerkin and Guy’s large hood. Finally he took the bugle-horn out of Guy’s pouch and wound it long and loud.

  An answer came directly from no very great distance, and Robin set off at once towards the sound, pausing only to sling his own bow and arrows over his shoulder.

  The Sheriff and the main body of his men were still marching into the depths of the forest, being joined every now and then by stray parties bringing with them news of guards posted to prevent the outlaws escaping.

  When the sound of the horn came echoing through the trees the Sheriff nearly fell off his horse with delight.

  ‘A mort! A mort!’ he cried. ‘Hearken to that! Sir Guy of Gisborne’s horn! That means he has killed Robin Hood – the best tidings that ever I heard!’ And with that he lugged out his own bugle-horn and blew an answering call.

  Very soon Robin appeared walking quickly through the forest, carrying the head hanging in the blood-stained hood.

  ‘Yonder he comes!’ cried the excited Sheriff. ‘I know him by his jerkin of horse-hide put on to disguise the chain mail underneath. Come hither, come hither, good Sir Guy and ask of me any reward you will!’

  ‘I ask none,’ said Robin, keeping his face as much in shadow as possible, and imitating Sir Guy’s voice, ‘for I have ever hated this man whose head I bring to you here – and the feud between us could be ended by death alone. But if you would do ought to pleasure me, I ask but this: As I have slain the master, give me the man to slay as and when I will!’

  And turning quickly, Robin pointed to Little John, who now lay bound upon the ground with several others of the outlaws.

  ‘A mad choice when gold might have been yours for the asking!’ said the Sheriff; ‘but such as it is, I give it to you freely. There lies the fellow they call Little John: he is yours to kill.’

  When Little John heard this, he thought that he was dreaming – and still more so when Robin knelt down beside him, knife in hand, and began to cut his bonds, whispering:

  ‘It is I, Robin Hood! When you are loose, wait until I call out, then take my bow and arrows which I shall leave on the grass beside you, and we will at least sell our lives more dearly than the Sheriff dreams of.’

  When he had loosed Little John, Robin moved quickly to the next prisoner, and he had cut the bonds of two other members of his band before the Sheriff realized what he was doing.

  ‘No, no, Sir Guy!’ he cried. ‘I granted you one life, not three!’

  ‘But I’ll take another!’ shouted Robin, and throwing off Sir Guy’s hood, he leapt upon the nearest of the Sheriff’s foresters, and in a moment had laid him dead on the ground and seized his bow, arrows, and sword.

  ‘To me, Little John!’ he cried, and straightway Little John sprang to his feet, an arrow on the string, and stood beside him.

  ‘It is Robin Hood – or the devil!’ shrieked the Sheriff. ‘Cut him down!’ And he tumbled backwards off his horse just in time to avoid an arrow which caught the man behind him in the throat.

  Then Robin and John shot fast and well, but the odds were too great, and presently they were forced to drop their bows and defend themselves with their swords.

  Once Robin paused in the fight, and at infinite risk drew out his own horn and sounded a piercing call on it. Then he fought on, and the two other outlaws whom he had loosed snatched up swords from beside the men who had fallen to their arrows, and fought desperately too.

  Valiantly though they fought, they would have been overwhelmed by sheer numbers before help could arrive had it not been for a sudden unexpected interruption.

  A knight clad from head to foot in black armour and riding a great black horse came riding up the road. The moment he saw the throng of men he snapped his visor shut – and rode closer.

  Then he suddenly unslung a mighty axe which hung at his saddle-bow and spurred his horse into the centre of the Sheriff’s men, shouting in a great voice:

  ‘What, so many against so few? Back, you damned wolves! I cannot see four men borne down by such a host! Charge, foresters! St George for merry England!’

  At this unexpected attack many of the Sheriff’s men broke and fled – and the first of all to set the example was the Sheriff himself, who had remounted his horse and now set spurs to it and got back to Nottingham, safe except for an arrow which Little Joh
n managed to plant in his backside as he disappeared round the corner out of sight.

  The Black Knight paused only for a moment to shout: ‘Stay, you base curs! Or I’ll beat you back to your kennel!’

  Then he thundered down the road after the Sheriff and those of his men who were mounted, and disappeared from view. But now Robin’s men, brought by the bugle-call, came pouring in from every side, and the rest of the Sheriff’s great company flung down their arms and either surrendered or ran for their lives.

  ‘Where is Will Scarlet?’ asked Robin suddenly.

  ‘I came too late to save him,’ answered Little John sadly. ‘But I slew the man, William Trent, who killed him, before they took me.’

  Then Robin’s brow became very dark. ‘Trent,’ he said, ‘the head verderer of the Forest?… Let no verderer live this day. As for the Sheriff’s men, they are poor serfs for the most part, forced to serve him. Strip all of them to their shirts, tie their hands behind them, hang halters round their necks and let them trudge barefoot back to Nottingham. Take command here, Little John: I follow the verderers.’

  Away went Robin, running swiftly through the Forest where he knew every path and all the shortest cuts, until he came out at the top of the hillside leading down towards Nottingham. The road was below him, and on it were several of the Sheriff’s men running for their lives. Robin let these pass, but presently when a troop of verderers or forest rangers in their Kendal green coats came into view, he shouted in a mighty voice:

  ‘Verderers of Sherwood! I exact vengeance from you alone, for you have this day slain my friend Will Scarlet. Run now to Nottingham – the gate is but a mile away! He who passes the gate may live: but so long as you are on the road, I shoot, and Robin Hood’s arrows do not miss!’