The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood - Howard Pyle (free reads TXT) 📗

So let no man draw up his lip, nor thrust his forefinger into his purse, for I swear that neither butcher nor Sheriff shall pay one penny for this feast.”

“Now thou art a right merry soul,” quoth the Sheriff, “and I wot thou must have many a head of horned beasts and many an acre of land, that thou dost spend thy money so freely.”

“Ay, that have I,” quoth Robin, laughing loudly again, “five hundred and more horned beasts have I and my brothers, and none of them have we been able to sell, else I might not have turned butcher. As for my land, I have never asked my steward how many acres I have.”

At this the Sheriff’s eyes twinkled, and he chuckled to himself. “Nay, good youth,” quoth he, “if thou canst not sell thy cattle, it may be I will find a man that will lift them from thy hands; perhaps that man may be myself, for I love a merry youth and would help such a one along the path of life. Now how much dost thou want for thy horned cattle?”

“Well,” quoth Robin, “they are worth at least five hundred pounds.”

“Nay,” answered the Sheriff slowly, and as if he were thinking within himself, “well do I love thee, and fain would I help thee along, but five hundred pounds in money is a good round sum; besides I have it not by me. Yet I will give thee three hundred pounds for them all, and that in good hard silver and gold.”

“Now thou old miser!” quoth Robin, “well thou knowest that so many horned cattle are worth seven hundred pounds and more, and even that is but small for them, and yet thou, with thy gray hairs and one foot in the grave, wouldst trade upon the folly of a wild youth.”

At this the Sheriff looked grimly at Robin. “Nay,” quoth Robin, “look not on me as though thou hadst sour beer in thy mouth, man. I will take thine offer, for I and my brothers do need the money. We lead a merry life, and no one leads a merry life for a farthing, so I will close the bargain with thee. But mind that thou bringest a good three hundred pounds with thee, for I trust not one that driveth so shrewd a bargain.”

“I will bring the money,” said the Sheriff. “But what is thy name, good youth?”

“Men call me Robert o’ Locksley,” quoth bold Robin.

“Then, good Robert o’ Locksley,” quoth the Sheriff, “I will come this day to see thy horned beasts. But first my clerk shall draw up a paper in which thou shalt be bound to the sale, for thou gettest not my money without I get thy beasts in return.”

Then Robin Hood laughed again. “So be it,” he said, smiting his palm upon the Sheriff’s hand. “Truly my brothers will be thankful to thee for thy money.”

Thus the bargain was closed, but many of the butchers talked among themselves of the Sheriff, saying that it was but a scurvy trick to beguile a poor spendthrift youth in this way.

The afternoon had come when the Sheriff mounted his horse and joined Robin Hood, who stood outside the gateway of the paved court waiting for him, for he had sold his horse and cart to a trader for two marks. Then they set forth upon their way, the Sheriff riding upon his horse and Robin running beside him. Thus they left Nottingham Town and traveled forward along the dusty highway, laughing and jesting together as though they had been old friends. But all the time the Sheriff said within himself, “Thy jest to me of Robin Hood shall cost thee dear, good fellow, even four hundred pounds, thou fool.” For he thought he would make at least that much by his bargain.

So they journeyed onward till they came within the verge of Sherwood Forest, when presently the Sheriff looked up and down and to the right and to the left of him, and then grew quiet and ceased his laughter. “Now,” quoth he, “may Heaven and its saints preserve us this day from a rogue men call Robin Hood.”

Then Robin laughed aloud. “Nay,” said he, “thou mayst set thy mind at rest, for well do I know Robin Hood and well do I know that thou art in no more danger from him this day than thou art from me.”

At this the Sheriff looked askance at Robin, saying to himself, “I like not that thou seemest so well acquainted with this bold outlaw, and I wish that I were well out of Sherwood Forest.”

But still they traveled deeper into the forest shades, and the deeper they went, the more quiet grew the Sheriff. At last they came to where the road took a sudden bend, and before them a herd of dun deer went tripping across the path. Then Robin Hood came close to the Sheriff and pointing his finger, he said, “These are my horned beasts, good Master Sheriff. How dost thou like them? Are they not fat and fair to see?”

At this the Sheriff drew rein quickly. “Now fellow,” quoth he, “I would I were well out of this forest, for I like not thy company. Go thou thine own path, good friend, and let me but go mine.”

But Robin only laughed and caught the Sheriff’s bridle rein. “Nay,” cried he, “stay awhile, for I would thou shouldst see my brothers, who own these fair horned beasts with me.” So saying, he clapped his bugle to his mouth and winded three merry notes, and presently up the path came leaping fivescore good stout yeomen with Little John at their head.

“What wouldst thou have, good master?” quoth Little John.

“Why,” answered Robin, “dost thou not see that I have brought goodly company to feast with us today? Fye, for shame! Do you not see our good and worshipful master, the Sheriff of Nottingham? Take thou his bridle, Little John, for he has honored us today by coming to feast with us.”

Then all doffed their hats humbly, without smiling or seeming to be in jest, while Little John took the bridle rein and led the palfrey still deeper into the forest, all marching in order, with Robin Hood walking beside the Sheriff, hat in hand.

All this time the Sheriff said never a word but only looked about him like one suddenly awakened from sleep; but when he found himself going within the very depths of Sherwood his heart sank within him, for he thought, “Surely my three hundred pounds will be taken from me, even if they take not my life itself, for I have plotted against their lives more than once.” But all seemed humble and meek and not a word was said of danger, either to life or money.

So at last they came to that part of Sherwood Forest where a noble oak spread its branches wide, and beneath it was a seat all made of moss, on which Robin sat down, placing the Sheriff at his right hand. “Now busk ye, my merry men all,” quoth he, “and bring forth the best we have, both of meat and wine, for his worship the Sheriff hath feasted me in Nottingham Guild Hall today, and I would not have him go back empty.”

All this time nothing had been said of the Sheriff’s money, so presently he began to pluck up heart. “For,” said he to himself, “maybe Robin Hood hath forgotten all about it.”

Then, while beyond in the forest bright fires crackled and savory smells of sweetly roasting venison and fat capons filled the glade, and brown pasties warmed beside the blaze, did Robin Hood entertain the Sheriff right royally. First, several couples stood forth at quarterstaff, and so shrewd were they at the game, and so quickly did they give stroke and parry, that the Sheriff, who loved to watch all lusty sports of the kind, clapped his hands, forgetting where he was, and crying aloud, “Well struck! Well struck, thou fellow with the black beard!” little knowing that the man he called upon was the Tinker that tried to serve his warrant upon Robin Hood.

Then several yeomen came forward and spread cloths upon the green grass, and placed a royal feast; while others still broached barrels of sack and Malmsey and good stout ale, and set them in jars upon the cloth, with drinking horns about them. Then all sat down and feasted and drank merrily together until the sun was low and the half-moon glimmered with a pale light betwixt the leaves of the trees overhead.

Then the Sheriff arose and said, “I thank you all, good yeomen, for the merry entertainment ye have given me this day. Right courteously have ye used me, showing therein that ye have much respect for our glorious King and his deputy in brave Nottinghamshire. But the shadows grow long, and I must away before darkness comes, lest I lose myself within the forest.”

Then Robin Hood and all his merry men arose also, and Robin said to the Sheriff, “If thou must go, worshipful sir, go thou must; but thou hast forgotten one thing.”

“Nay, I forgot nought,” said the Sheriff; yet all the same his heart sank within him.

“But I say thou hast forgot something,” quoth Robin. “We keep a merry inn here in the greenwood, but whoever becometh our guest must pay his reckoning.”

Then the Sheriff laughed, but the laugh was hollow. “Well, jolly boys,” quoth he, “we have had a merry time together today, and even if ye had not asked me, I would have given you a score of pounds for the sweet entertainment I have had.”

“Nay,” quoth Robin seriously, “it would ill beseem us to treat Your Worship so meanly. By my faith, Sir Sheriff, I would be ashamed to show my face if I did not reckon the King’s deputy at three hundred pounds. Is it not so, my merry men all?”

Then “Ay!” cried all, in a loud voice.

“Three hundred devils!” roared the Sheriff. “Think ye that your beggarly feast was worth three pounds, let alone three hundred?”

“Nay,” quoth Robin gravely. “Speak not so roundly, Your Worship. I do love thee for the sweet feast thou hast given me this day in merry Nottingham Town; but there be those here who love thee not so much. If thou wilt look down the cloth thou wilt see Will Stutely, in whose eyes thou hast no great favor; then two other stout fellows are there here that thou knowest not, that were wounded in a brawl nigh Nottingham Town, some time ago—thou wottest when; one of them was sore hurt in one arm, yet he hath got the use of it again. Good Sheriff, be advised by me; pay thy score without more ado, or maybe it may fare ill with thee.”

As he spoke the Sheriff’s ruddy cheeks grew pale, and he said nothing more but looked upon the ground and gnawed his nether lip. Then slowly he drew forth his fat purse and threw it upon the cloth in front of him.

“Now take the purse, Little John,” quoth Robin Hood, “and see that the reckoning be right. We would not doubt our Sheriff, but he might not like it if he should find he had not paid his full score.”

Then Little John counted the money and found that the bag held three hundred pounds in silver and gold. But to the Sheriff it seemed as if every clink of the bright money was a drop of blood from his veins. And when he saw it all counted out in a heap of silver and gold, filling a wooden platter, he turned away and silently mounted his horse.

“Never have we