by Steve Barlow
* * *
11th August 1191
Robin’s a law-abiding soul at heart. He robbed a tax collector today, which reminded him he hadn’t filled in his tax forms from last year.
I pointed out that as his accountant, it was my job to make sure he didn’t pay taxes – or at any rate, paid as little as possible. What’s more, by not paying taxes he was doing the Sheriff a favour because we’d only nick the money back anyway.
In the end I had to write it down for him.
IF WE PAY TAXES:
STEP 1) We give the money to the Sheriff
STEP 2) He has to think up a plan to keep the money safe from us
STEP 3) We have to think up a plan to pinch the money – that’s a lot of man-hours
STEP 4) He sends the taxes to Prince John
STEP 5) We ambush the soldiers guarding the taxes
STEP 6) We use up lots of arrows (which we’d put down as expenses anyway)
STEP 7) Some of the soldiers yet killed.
BUT, if we didn’t pay taxes in the first place, the Sheriff wouldn’t have to make up a plan, we wouldn’t have to spend money on arrows, the Sheriff’s soldiers wouldn’t get killed and we’d still have the money!
Isn’t accountancy wonderful!
* * *
MICROHARD CHAIN MAIL MESSAGE
From Basil Count de Money ([email protected])
Date 20 August 1191, 7.45pm
To [email protected]
Subject Slaughter at Acre
Saladin was supposed to pay up for the prisoners by this morning. But he didn’t.
Richard was furious. We need to set off for Jerusalem – we’ve spent far too long here. So what could we do with three thousand Muslims? We couldn’t leave them here or take them with us. And if we released them, they’d only return and fight us.
Richard came up with a solution. At midday, we roped the prisoners (men, women and children) together and marched them out of the city. Then we killed them. All three thousand.
Saladin now knows that Richard isn’t someone to be messed with.
Yours, a bit shocked,
Basil
* * *
21st August 1191
Robin still won’t hear a word against King Richard, but reading Basil’s chain mail really upset him. He called an outlaws’ meeting last night and said that we shouldn’t hurt anybody just to make them give us all their money.
I said, fair enough, but if people refused to give us their money, then it was all right to hurt them, wasn’t it?
Robin had to think about that for a bit. Eventually he said “Yes,” but he didn’t look too happy.
23rd August 1191
Little John went out this morning for a bit of robbery-with-not-too-much-violence. When he came back, he had a sorry-looking specimen in tow.
The stranger was a knight. At least, he was wearing armour and riding a horse, but the armour had holes in it and the horse looked as if it was about two canters and a trot away from being catfood.
The poor knight said his name was Sir Richard of the Lee. His son had accidentally killed another knight at a tournament, and Sir Richard had to pay a fine of four hundred quid which he’d borrowed from St Mary’s Abbey at York.
I said he must have been barmy to borrow from the Church. Abbots are loan sharks, and anybody who doesn’t pay back a loan on time is liable to find himself surrounded by burly monks with clubs and given a right good blessing.
Robin said, “Never mind, old fellow. I’ll lend you four hundred pounds.”
I tried to talk some sense into Robin. He didn’t know this knight from Adam – was it wise to risk an unsecured loan? And what about the interest repayments…?
Sir Richard said Robin was a noble fellow and he’d repay him when he could. So Robin sent him off to York to pay the Abbot and told him to call in on his way back to tell us how he’d got on.
* * *
MICROHARD CHAIN MAIL MESSAGE
From Basil Count de Money ([email protected])
Date 7 September 1191, 9.47pm
To [email protected]
Subject Battle of Arsuf
We are the champions!
We’ve spent the past few days marching towards Jaffa. We’d reached Arsuf when Saladin attacked us. He had thirty thousand soldiers against our fifteen thousand. However, numbers didn’t matter. Richard took control of the battle and we hammered Saladin’s army! We killed over seven thousand of them.
We’re not going on to Jerusalem yet. We need a base so we’re going to Jaffa. The Holy Land is going to be ours and Saladin isn’t singing any more!
Yours, as chuffed as a boar in a barley field,
Basil
* * *
15th December 1191
We were expecting Sir Richard back today, but instead Little John brought back a couple of fat monks from St Mary’s Abbey at York. Robin insisted they had dinner with us (venison, just for a change).
After dinner Robin asked them to pay for their meal, and they said things like “Golly, is that the time” and “Must dash”. Then Little John strung his bow in a meaningful sort of way. The monks suddenly started whining that they were poor and their saddlebags were empty. So Will Scarlet had a shufty and found they were carrying eight hundred quid.
“Heavens,” said the monks unconvincingly, “how did that get there? It’s a miracle!”
I said that if these monks were from St Mary’s Abbey, they must have brought Sir Richard’s repayment to save him the trouble. The monks started to protest, so we sent them on their way with a flea in the ear and a few arrows up the bum.
When Sir Richard turned up, Robin told him not to worry about repaying the loan and gave him another four hundred pounds to buy himself a decent horse.
So we bring this bloke in to rob him and end up giving him eight hundred smackers. I give up!
Boxing Day 1191
Sir Richard was so grateful to Robin that he invited us all back to his castle for Christmas. His castle’s a bit draughty, but it beats sleeping under a bush.
On Christmas Eve Marian turned up. She and Robin went off somewhere with a sprig of mistletoe and there was a lot of giggling.
This morning, we all trooped off to church and Sir Richard broke open the alms box in the church and gave all the money to the poor. Then we went out skating.
Will Scarlet made the skates out of cattle bones. I could hardly stand up on mine so I just pushed myself along with a stick, but Will Scarlet strapped his skates to his feet and went racing about like nobody’s business. Some of the others used their poles as lances and started having ice-jousts on piggyback while Much the Miller’s Son threw snowballs at them.
Outlaws? They’re just a bunch of big kids.
Easter Day 1192
We’re in York for a few days. Robin wanted to watch the Miracle Plays.
This is a sort of church panto. All the priests dress up as Noah and King Herod etc and act out Bible stories in the church (or in the churchyard if the weather’s nice). The Bible is written in Latin and most people don’t understand it, so the plays help people grasp the stories about Jesus and so on. I can’t be doing with all this happy-clappy stuff myself.
The other outlaws went off to find some sport. There’s usually a game of campball going at Easter. You can have hundreds of people on a side, all chasing a leather ball the size of a clenched fist. You can throw the ball, but not kick it. When a player gets the ball he sets off for his opponent’s goal while everybody else tries to kill him (or each other). Since the goals can be miles apart, games usually last all day. Scores are usually low, but casualties are high.
11th April 1192
With King Richard out of the way, the Sheriff of Nottingham and his cronies think they can do just what they like!
These so-called knights are supposed to behave honourably, and live by a strict set of rules:
The trouble is that when King Richard called on the barons and knights to go on his Cru
sade, all the decent ones said, “Oh, all right then, if you insist,” and off they went, while all the cowardly layabouts sent in notes to say they’d got a verucca and stayed behind. So now the cowardly layabouts are in charge!
I sent a chain mail to Basil today. I told him that the Sheriff of Nottingham is still throwing his weight about (there’s a lot to throw) and Prince John is starting to fancy himself as King, The word is that John is getting support from King Philip of France, so if Richard stays away much longer, he’s going to find he’s a King without a kingdom.
* * *
MICROHARD CHAIN MAIL MESSAGE
From Basil Count de Money([email protected])
Date 20 April 1192, 7.36pm
To len. dusomoney@sherwood. com
Subject Not a very Happy Easter
I told Richard your news about John. He wasn’t happy. He gathered all his commanders together for a high-level meeting at Ascalon. He told them that he was going to go home.
The other Crusaders said he was a partypooper etc, and offered the throne to Conrad of Montferrat. Conrad said, “Yes, oh yes, oh yes!” I think he was quite pleased.
So, with the King thing sorted out, it looks as though we’re coming home!
Yours, as cheered up as a goose at a
vegetarian banquet,
Basil
* * *
* * *
MICROHARD CHAIN MAIL MESSAGE
From Basil Count de Money ([email protected])
Date 28 April 1192, 7.45pm
To [email protected]
Subject Bad news
Cancel the coming home bit.
Conrad is dead. He’s been killed by two assassins. There’s no one to lead the Crusade except Richard. So we’ve got to stay.
Yours, as cross as a Crusader’s coat,
Basil
* * *
23rd May 1192
Alan A’Dale insisted on singing me his new song today. It goes:
“With a hey nonny no
And a nonny nonny no,
With a hey no nonny no hey…
And a nonny nonny no
Hey hey nonny no
And a nonny nonny no no nay… All together now!…
With a hey nonny no
And a nonny nonny no,
With a hey no nonny no hey…
And a nonny nonny no
Hey hey nonny no
And a nonny nonny no no,
Hey!”
He said, did I think that was good, hey?
I said, “Nonny nonny NO!!!!”
2nd July 1192
How Robin Hood Met Friar Tuck A Ballad By Alan A’Dale
I’ll tell you a tale of Bold Robin,
An outlaw, as some folks would say,
He was strong as an ox,
He wore Lincoln green socks,
And he lived over Snottingham way.
One day he was pulling his longbow
(It was long as a longbow could be),
When Will Scarlet said, “Hood!
There’s a Friar in the wood!”
And Robin said, “This, I must see!”
They found the fat Friar by the river
Singing hymns fit to waken the dead,
He was round, he was tanned,
He’d a sword in his hand
And a helmet on top of his head.
“What do they call you?” asked Robin,
The Friar said, “I’ll give you a clue,
Friar Tuck is my name,
And fighting’s my game
And anyway, what’s it to you?”
“Do me a favour,” said Robin,
“And carry me over this flood,
You can take me across
Like a knight on his hoss
‘Cos a Friar is supposed to do good.”
The friar made a back for bold Robin
And carried him over the beck*,
But upon reaching land
Robin felt a strong hand
At his throat, and a sword at his neck.
The Friar said, “Now then, young master,
I’ve carried you over one way,
Now you’ll carry me back
Or I swear I will hack
You to bits. No offence, as they say.”
Robin struggled to lift the fat Friar,
He must have weighed nearly a ton,
His strength soon diminished –
Before he had finished,
He wished that he’d never begun.
Then Robin got back on the Friar
And roared, “Take me back over there!
But quick as a wink,
He was dropped in the drink –
“You can sink!” said Tuck. “See if I care!”
Robin Hood blew his horn in a twinkling,
And his outlaws ran up by the score,
And when they saw Robin
In that stream a’bobbin
They laughed ‘til their insides were sore
Robin cried, “Join my band, worthy Friar!
You’re a fighter, as well as a priest,
And I have need of both,
So swear me an oath,
And come join us all in a feast!”
The Friar agreed to this bargain,
And he knelt down at Robin Hood’s feet
“I’m your man without fail,
While you still have good ale,
And venison for me to eat!”
That creep Alan A’Dale has been writing in my diary! I was going to write about Robin meeting Friar Tuck, and he’s spoilt it! I’ll pay him back, just you wait!
* * *
MICROHARD CHAIN MAIL MESSAGE
From Basil Count de Money ([email protected] )
Date 9 August 1192, 7.54pm
To [email protected]
Subject A lot to tell you
Sorry I’ve not been in touch. The chain
mail link has been down. There’s lots to
tell you:
1) Saladin put the squeeze on Jaffa and captured it
2) Richard captured it back
3) Saladin and Richard fell ill
4) Best of all, they’ve signed a three-year truce.
We keep the coastal cities and the Muslims keep Jerusalem, but Christian pilgrims can still visit the city. Richard’s not going to go to Jerusalem. He said if he couldn’t capture it, he didn’t want to see it.
It seems to me that there’s been a lot of death in exchange for not a lot else.
Yours, as tired as a tickled trout,
Basil
* * *
* Northern dialect word for a stream, or brook.
24th September 1192
I’ve been talking to Friar Tuck. I asked him, what was a priest doing in an outlaw band? He asked me, what was an accountant doing in an outlaw band? I said fair enough.
Friar Tuck said in any case, he’d be better off than the rest of us if we got caught. Robin and I and all the others would be sent to trial in the criminal courts, but a friar can only be tried in the Church courts, and the worst they could do would be to defrock him. I said what, pull his cassock off? He said no, it meant they could stop him being a priest anymore.
I asked him which abbey he was from. He said friars didn’t live in abbeys, they were wandering priests. Monks lived in abbeys. There were basically two sorts of monks – your Cistercians and your Benedictines. Your Benedictines (who follow the teachings of St Benedict) were filthy rich. Your Cistercians said men of God shouldn’t be rolling in money and going out partying until 3am etc, so they went and founded their own abbeys where they could sleep on stone mattresses and eat thistles to their hearts’ content.
If I ever get a religious calling, I know which lot I’ll join!
* * *
MICROHARD CHAIN MAIL MESSAGE
From Basil Count de Money ([email protected])
Date 9 October 1192, 8.33am
To [email protected]
Subject We’re
coming home, we’re coming home!
Make sure the goose is getting fat! We should be home in time for Christmas!
We set sail from Acre today (Queen Berengaria left ten days ago).
I’m happy to be getting away from the place, but Richard seems depressed. As we sailed away, he stared back at the Holy Land, sighed and promised he would return. I must say, rather him than me.
Yours, as pleased as a rat in a bucket of bacon rind,
Basil
* * *
30th October 1192
It turns out that Friar Tuck knows a lot about herbs. This will be useful if anyone gets sick or wounded*. He showed me his herb-book.
Remind me not to get ill!
* Doctors were rare and expensive in Robin Hood’s day. Poor people would use herbs as medicine if they got sick.
27th November 1192
The Ballad of Robin Hood and the Potter by Alan A’Dale
A potter drove to market on a frosty Autumn day,
To sell his goods in Nottingham he went upon his way,
But deep in Sherwood Forest, on the brakes he had to stand
For an outlaw stood before him with a longbow in hish and.
He said, “My name is Robin Hood. All travellers must pay
A toll to use the forest roads before they pass this way.”
The potter said, “I’ve used this road for twenty years and nine
So you can take your toll and stick it where the sun don’t shine!”
